The Stones

 

                I tripped over my skirts several times while sprinting to The Stones.  It didn’t matter how torn my clothing was. It didn’t matter how ragged I looked. I couldn’t let him marry her. 

                The day started with the smell of distant snow in the air. There was surely to be a storm on this day that lead to the longest night. My morning chores were nearly complete when I reached into the pocket of my lamb’s wool cloak to warm my hands. I was surprised to find a letter stashed there. My hand trembled a bit as I unfolded the missive. Creighton’s familiar handwriting danced across the page. 

“I’m marrying Rhiannon. I do not want or need to hear from you again.”

                My overwhelming anguish manifested in a strangled sob. He’d loved me once. Or so he claimed. Wanted me. Needed me. He would tell me how his heart raced at the thought of us together. And now this letter exposed the depth of his lies. I felt my heart hammering in my chest while wrenching itself to pieces. I desperately fought to draw in air. My head was spinning, and all I could smell was the stench of bile as it rose its way from my twisted stomach.  I had to go to him.

                Father said he’d seen Creighton with Rhiannon and her druid earlier in the morn. I frantically searched the entire village for them, and they were nowhere to be found. It was nearly suncrest. I knew I had no time to waste. There was only one other place they could be.

                I grabbed my heaviest wrap and took off toward The Stones.

                Blinded by winter winds and scorching tears, I rubbed the back of my wool-wrapped hand across my leaking eyes. The snow fell harder and harder. It endangered my plan and nearly forced me to return to the safety of my home, but my desperation to see him overrode all reason. I had to hear it from his lips before I could truly believe the ugliness of his written words.

                I made it to The Stones just before the sun hit its zenith on the shortest day of the year. Three figures stood in the middle of The Stones. There was still time for me to intervene.

                I drew a deep breath into my blazing lungs. “CREIGHTON!” I screamed with every last ounce of strength I had. I fell to my hands and knees, exhausted. 

                My voice caused all three figures to turn toward me. The druid looked smug as he lowered his hands to his sides. Rhiannon looked radiant and triumphant. Creighton looked at me like he was reclaiming a long faded memory.

                I looked at Rhiannon. “Don’t do this,” I pleaded. But the incantations had already been chanted and the offerings had already been burnt.

                The sun peaked and bathed The Stones in white light. I raised my arm to shield my eyes from the glare. I saw the kiss they shared as a silhouette against the shimmering ice crystals. My love was lost. The ceremony was over. Creighton belonged to her.

                “You WITCH!” I screamed. I tried to stand, but my legs refused to heed my wishes. 

                Rhiannon leaned in close to Creighton’s ear. “Remember her.” It wasn’t a question. It was a command.

                Creighton turned to look at me. His eyes rushed full of tears while the bewitched memories came flooding back. “Lioslaith…” he whispered as his tears embodied his heartbreak.  

                “Now watch as your beloved dies,” Rhiannon purred.

                My eyes widened it terror. 

                Rhiannon lifted her graceful arm and backhanded the air.

                My head jerked violently to the left as my neck cracked.

                Darkness.

 

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - White

                “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Tom, and I’m madly in love with you.”

                The message flashed across the blank White of the screen.

                Six years. Six years that flew in a heartbeat. She wished on every wishing star and four leaf clover to be noticed. And if she had to be honest with herself, she loved him for the last two of those six years. He was funny, charming, clever, and incredibly pretty. Unsure about making such an irrational confession, she chose to watch and to dream. Every day she would make her social media rounds hoping he’d posted a joke or funny story about gaming. Some days she was rewarded with the slightly crooked smile of an avatar while chatting with friends. Some days her heart would gallop when she got a Guild log-in notification.

                So here she sat facing a computer screen that made her cover her mouth with her hand. Unable to breathe and on the verge of tears, she sat dumfounded. The harsh White backdrop contrasted sharply against the black letters. There it was. Everything she ever wanted.

                And she had no idea what to do next.

                FIFTEEN SECONDS AGO…………

                This time he would hit send. He swore it. He’d seen her struggle each time she was told she was fat or ugly or dumb. He’d watched the façade of self-esteem break behind the scenes. She was plenty strong on the surface and had nearly everyone fooled. But he knew for years about the fragileness that she kept from the world. He’d seen it in heartbreaking posts she was convinced no one saw.

                It devastated him.

                He had no idea how she felt about him, but he knew she deserved better.

                She deserved to know how he felt.

                He took a deep breath and stared at the blank White typing field.

                And once again Tom started to type. “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met………”

Red's Cross

                The blood had been on the table for about twenty minutes. The edges had already started to dry and darken. I continued to swirl my finger through the middle of the pool like it was finger paint. “What is your name?” I asked her.

                She was slack on her cross, so I knew she was having trouble focusing. I licked my finger and crossed the room. Grabbing her chin roughly, I pressed again. “What… is your name?”

                Groggy eyes tried to focus on my face. I felt the flutter of joy in my stomach as her eyes widened and she recognized where she was. The nervous shine returned to her eyes. Her sharp intake of breath warned me of her impending wail, so I moved my hand from her chin to her mouth, covering it before she could exhale her scream.

                “Tsk tsk tsk…..” I chastised. I leaned into her with my full body. She smelled like daffodils in early spring. God I wanted her. “You’ve done that before. Better think twice before screaming again,” I warned her. I ran my free hand up her leg to where I’d carved her name in her thigh. “Now, I’ll remove my hand if you tell me your name. Yes?”

                She nodded and closed her eyes. A single tear slipped from her eye as I felt her body relax. I removed my hand, but kept myself pressed against her. “Now, what is your name?”

                “Red. My name is Red.”

                “That’s my good girl.” I pushed forward with my hips a little before I took a step backward. I was rock hard with lust. 

                A quick glance at the hourglass let me know she had about five minutes left to be chained on her rack. I spent that time taunting her with flogs and canes. Each concussion reverberated throughout the tiny room. All too soon, the bell rang. And the assignment was complete.

                I unchained her wrists and ankles. She fell like a ragdoll into my arms, and I carried her to a lavender bath that waited. I stepped back wondering if I’d performed as she had wished.

                I was rewarded with a generous smile. The warmth of the bath restored the color to her cheeks. She practically purred as the heat eased the tension in her strained muscles. 

                I bowed and turned to leave. 

                “Thing,” she said.

                I stood frozen.

                “Take off your clothes and sit in the corner. I want to watch you finish. No point in letting that erection go to waste.”

                “Yes, Mistress,” I replied, all too eager to comply.

 

The Kitty and The Archer

Emily walked quickly down the hallway. Her heels were silenced by the intricately patterned carpet. 

Best to hide spills and mishaps…

Excitement pooled in her belly. She wondered where he’d be. She only knew that he was here... at this location. She wondered what he’d look like. How his voice would sound in person. Her scalp tickled with excitement mixed with a healthy dose of anxiety. 

“Breathe,” she said softly to remind herself of the most basic need. Air. 

Her leather bag rode heavy on her shoulder, and she tried to remember exactly what she’d put inside. Probably nothing she truly needed for today. Or maybe everything she’d ever need for a day like today. There really was no telling until they were in the moment.

She heard the elevator ding as it arrived. Her phone buzzed in her hip pocket as she rounded the corner and…

#

Brock fished in his jacket pocket for his car keys as he exited the elevator. He was already behind schedule. But this was going to work. It had to work.

Because he was so preoccupied with the meeting today, he rounded the corner and made full contact with a beautiful brunette. She was sent sprawling, her leather satchel and cell phone scattered on the carpet. He caught a glimpse of her panties as she struggled with embarrassment to right herself.

“Fuck. I am so sorry,” he said as he extended a hand to help her up.

“All my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” She grabbed his outstretched hand and looked up to meet his gaze.

Brock noticed her hand was soft. He caught a soft draught of vanilla from her as he helped her to her feet. She was stunningly beautiful. She had hair the color of chocolate. Her figure was curvy, and he couldn’t help but stare at her wide hips. And then he saw the rose print scarf around her neck. This had to be Kitty.

“You’re ok?” he asked.

“Yeah. Totally fine. Thank you,” she replied. Her voice sounded much richer than the many times they had talked on the phone. 

“Okay, then. Be careful.” 

He walked off towards the lobby and disappeared behind a column, praying she didn’t recognize his voice.

Brock had to take a couple deep breaths to steady his nerves and calm his racing heart. Her voice had worked magic on him. He knew he was in for a wild ride.

#

Emily still flush from the awkwardness of being knocked on her ass, ran her fingers through her chin length layers to smooth her tresses. Today was off to a bang. Luckily, her heels hadn’t broken, and her clothing wasn’t torn. No damage done. Only a bruised ego.

“Way to screw it up before it even starts,” she whispered harshly to herself. 

She walked her way over to the front desk. “Hello. I’m Kitty. Is there a message left here for me?”

The front desk clerk said with a bright, cheery voice, “Let me check for you.”

She rummaged through some scattered pieces of paper on a side desk. When she found what she was looking for, she piped, “Ah yes! Right here.” She handed the small ecru envelope across the desk to Emily’s waiting hand.

“Thank you. Have a great day.”

“You too, Miss.”

The envelope was so light that Emily didn’t think it held anything. Her alias was written neatly in quill and ink calligraphy. When she turned it over in her hand, she noticed the tiny arrow drawn the bottom left corner. It was definitely from Archer.

Her hands shook nervously as she opened the envelope. The single sheet of parchment said simply ROOM 1024. She raised her gaze to the elevators and started to cross back across the lobby.

Looking in that direction, she thought back to her collision. The man was tall. Nearly too tall. He had a tousle of messy blonde hair and really broad shoulders. He could have been a linebacker on the old high school football team. But the incident had happened all so fast that Emily didn’t even really register what his face looked like.

“No matter. Room 1024 awaits,” she said aloud. 

She entered the elevator and pressed the button for the tenth floor.

#

Brock checked back after five minutes to see that Kitty had taken the elevator. The empty lobby confirmed that she was well on her way. He leaned back against the column once again. Tilting his head back and letting out a deep breath, he relaxed for a second. All was nearly lost.

He counted off the seconds it would take for the elevator to reach the suite he had secured on the tenth floor. He imagined her red heels stepping off the elevator. He imagined the steps she took as she got closer and closer to the suite. The door had been left slightly ajar so she could let herself in. He imagined how her hand would fly to her mouth as she stepped into the room. He thought about how the tiny chocolate roses would make her smile. He could see her look around the room wide-eyed in anticipation. She would drop her leather bag on the coffee table. He felt his cock jump at the thought of her reading the note he’d left behind.

Put this on. A black velvet blindfold had been left beside the note.

He left the shadow of the column and started for the elevator. By the time he reached the suite, she would be ready.

#

Emily gingerly touched the blindfold. The velvet tickled her fingers. She sat on the nearby ottoman and brought the cloth to her eyes. The darkening of her surroundings made her other senses heighten. She could smell the peonies and hibiscus in a nearby vase. She could hear the ticking of an anniversary clock on the mantle perched above the gas fireplace. It would make sense that Archer would want to meet like this. The comforting lilt of his voice tickled her thighs as she waited for him to appear.

She heard the soft click of the door. Instantly the air was electric. 

“Hello Kitty.”

The voice. The voice she grew to love. The voice that over the last three months was here. Just feet away from her. 

She leaned her ear towards where the voice had spoken. “Archer,” she said.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“I hadn’t planned on rushing this, fuck all if I can stop from kissing you.”

Before she could even reply, she heard three quick steps hit the carpet as he crossed the room. He gathered her face in his hands and planted a firm kiss on her pink lips.

Emily felt the months of distance vanish in the space of a heartbeat. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back fervently. 

“How far are you willing to go, Kitty?” he asked as he broke the kiss.

“All the way,” she said breathlessly. He had no idea how much she longed to have him hold her, kiss her, caress her. Fuck her.

To reinforce her statement, she shrugged out of her jacket and let her fingers play with the buttons of her blouse. She’d worn this shirt several times before, but the blindfold made her notice the smoothness of the tiny pearl buttons that held her blouse closed. She made quick work of the buttons and was soon left in her bra, skirt and panties.

He breathed into her ear, “Let me.” 

So she did.

#

 He knelt before her and unzipped her skirt. It fell to the floor in a soft whoosh. He kissed her belly and inwardly grinned when he felt the flutter there. He continued to kiss her as he slipped a finger into the elastic of her panties. Her body gave an uncontrollable twitch as his touch tickled her hip. She smelled like vanilla all over and his hungry mouth explored her hips, her stomach, her thighs as he pulled down her panties.

#

She unlatched her bra while he made quick work of the bottom half. She quivered as his lips touched everywhere. 

She felt him rise as she stood naked before him. His hands grasped her shoulders. He guided her backwards towards the bedroom. After fifteen steps she knew she was just inches from the bed. The room had changed from a bright floral to a deep musky candle. While she stood there she listened to his clothes fall on the floor.

#

Letting his pants fall to the ground was a relief to his straining cock. The taste of her, the smell of her was nearly more than he could take. He had grabbed the rose print scarf from the floor of the front room, and he used it now to tie her wrists in front of her. He grabbed her bound wrists and guided her backwards to the bed. Letting her fall gently, she stretched her arms above her head. The picture was exquisite. His skin was on fire to touch hers.

#

She drew in a solid breath as his weight came upon her, pinning her to the bed. His naked flesh touched her and lit her afire. There was electricity in his touch. Urgency in his mouth. He crushed his lips to hers, and she fought back with equal passion. She knew in a matter of moments she would be undone.

#

Pausing only long enough to grab a condom, he parted her legs with his knee. The treasure there was ready to be discovered. He pressed the tip of his cock to the wet nether lips that begged to be touched. She was breathing raggedly as he pressed further inside her.

#

The touch of his head drove her to near madness. She strained upwards with her hips in order to encourage deeper penetration. He read her actions perfectly and pushed farther and farther inside her. They seemed a perfect fit.

“Kitty…” he whispered. 

The thickness of his voice, the motion of his hips, and the heavy scent of the room was all she needed to be pushed beyond the point of no return.

#

“Archer,” she whispered breathlessly back. The name like a song on his ears. He pumped harder and faster. Her nipples perked and darkened and he knew she was close. He ground his pubic bone against her crotch as he twisted his hips in small circles. The penetration and the friction making him reach his boiling point.

#

“Now,” she pleaded.

#

“Now,” he whispered.

He watched her blindfolded face contort with passion. Her lips slightly parted as her ragged breath escaped her lungs. Their rhythm was a frantic pace as she locked her heels into his buttocks to drive him deeper. The sweat from their torsos making a slick mess of their bodies. He matched her pace and came with a force he’d never known before. 

#

She gave a groan and felt her orgasm explode with his. The throbbing ache of longing was replaced with the highest plateau of passion. The orgasm was more intense than anything she could have imagined. The gentle decent back to earth left her calm and peacefully exhausted.

He rolled to her right side on the bed. “Do you want to see?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

#

He reached up and tugged the blindfold from her eyes. He waited as her eyes adjusted to the light. 

Satisfaction washed over him as he saw the spark of recognition in her eyes when she realized he was the gentleman from downstairs. 

“My name is Brock Bowyer. Nice to meet you.”

“My name is Emily Ducat. Nice to meet you,” she answered with a bright smile and a twinkle in her eye. She wrapped her bound wrists around his neck and snuggled close to his naked chest, practically tasting the magic of their contact. 

#

And here I was worried about things I packed in my damned leather bag, she thought inwardly. And giggled.

###

New Grey 4

 

            I tried desperately to make sense of what The King had said.

            “Who are you?”

            The question rang in my ears over and over. How could my own Father no longer recognize me? I used the edge of my war torn cloak to wipe at the tears and dirt that stained my face, praying for Him to see me.

            “Father,” I said softly. “It’s me. It’s your son. Your lastborn.”

            “You look familiar to me. News had come my lastborn was dead. You look nothing like him.” The King said as he leaned forward in his throne. His eyes narrowed as He looked hard into my eyes, searching for the answers held in my soul. When finally a spark of recognition reached His eyes, it was all I could do to not weep from joy. 

            “Lastborn, it seems you speak the truth, but your form is not as it should be. Tell me of your time on the fields.”

            I explained how my courier mission had taken me to the front lines. I told Him how the angel stood above me ready to strike but stilled his sword. I left out no detail when describing how the angel’s mortal wound mixed blood into mine. All the while, He stared with calculating eyes as I relayed every piece of how I found myself to be here.

            “You speak truth, Lastborn. But you are no longer one of us. The angel’s blood that courses through your veins will only grow stronger as it binds with yours.”

            The King sat back and rubbed his fingers against weary eyes. “It is no light decision that I make. You must know this. But we can no longer support you here.”

            I felt like I had been kicked down an endless well. Banished. From my home. The thought was near unbearable. “Father,” I pleaded, hoping beyond hope he would change his mind.

            “Have you not seen yourself since battle, Lastborn?”

            Suddenly, the question pulled me from my free fall. I hadn’t. I don’t know why looking at myself would make any difference. Surely this had to be a trick question of some sort. “No, I haven’t, Father. But why…”

            The King cut me off and waved toward polished marble floor surrounding His throne.

            I slowly tilted my eyes downward.

 

 

 

The Halls

 

 

 

 

            When he walked into the room, it was as if a gust blew in heat from a brush fire along with him. The grand hall was immediately hot and charged with electricity. Every face turned toward the open door, and every pair of eyes glossed from his unintentional hypnosis. Mine included.

            He was calm. Debonair. Jet black hair perfectly swept back with just a few rogue strands against his forehead. Unruly curls that refused to be tamed. His wicked grin extended to his crystal eyes. He crossed the threshold, and all in attendance seemed to remember how to breathe.

            His eyes tiptoed across the room. While no one knew what this stranger was looking for, everyone internally pleaded to be his target. The warm candlelight in the room made his cream skin seem flush as he began his stalk throughout the room. His gaze danced from this face to that face and from this tuxedo to that dress. He knew his target and kept scanning the room.

            Until his eyes locked into mine.

            Although he had looked familiar, it took the electric jolt of his near white eyes to shock the memory back to life. How many lifetimes had it been? How many times had the fates conspired against us? It seemed unreal that my Osiris stood before me once again. My Mark Antony. My Romeo. My personal, beautiful, tragic love story.

            Instantly the crowd dissolved to smoke and it was just the two of us.

            “Shayera,” he whispered as he smiled and extended his graceful hand.

            “Carter,” I replied with hardly a breath.

            My heart was pounding and tears were racing down my cheeks. I knew where my home was. It was with him. Always and always.

            We left the cotillion hand in hand and ran until my shoes were broken and our legs gave way. It didn’t matter where we were going, as long as he never let go of my hand. I’d followed him to Hell to save him. I wasn’t about to let him go on Earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

New Grey 3

     After three days of travel, the landscape started to look familiar. The trees became more twisted. The ground became more barren. The familiar scent of sulfur danced in my nose. I never realized how home sick I had been until that moment.
     I had been fighting in the fifth civil war for over twelve years. For most of that time, I was in charge of messaging and correspondence. I knew I would never be called as a general, and I excelled at my position. The last mission I was commissioned to do put me on the front lines. That's when I found myself with fatal wounds and trapped under a fallen sister. The Unknown Angel gave his blood and I found myself changed. After a bizarre encounter with strange creatures in the woods, I knew I needed to find answers. Home was calling me back.
     I breathed deeply of the acrid air and tears nearly spilled from my eyes. Had it been so long since I'd seen this place? The sprawling castle of The King looked sweeter than I'd ever seen it look before. I kicked my heels in to drive my horse faster. The last five minutes of the ride were at a dead sprint. I jumped from my horse and crashed through the castle gates. I barely heard my feet hit the cold stone flooring. My all consuming thought was to enter the throne room and throw myself at The King's feet and weep with joy at being home.
     And suddenly my perfect vision was before me. There He was. The King. Shining and beautiful and everything that made sense in my world. I finally loosed the tears from my eyes and they streamed down my dirty face. I raced across the room and grabbed at His ankles.
     "FATHER!" I cried with breathless joy.
     I was met with silence.
     "Who are you?" He asked.
     Then the world I thought had just been righted completely tilted.

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - Red

 

 

 

 

 

            Every day the Clever Boy, with his tiny mechanical feet, shuffled down the same cobblestone path. And every day the Clever Boy saw the same sights and turned the same turns and whistled the same song. And the Clever Boy was happy.

            Until one day something was different.

            The Clever Boy, whistling the same song, shuffling his tiny mechanical feet suddenly stopped. He saw a box. This was new. He approached it with caution. He saw an ordinary brown packing box full of gears and pieces. Next to this box was a sign: I CAN’T FIGURE HER OUT. MUST BE BROKEN - FREE.

            The Clever Boy turned his square head this way and that wondering why in the world anyone would discard such beautiful, shiny pieces. He gathered the box into his jointed copper arms and returned to shuffling his tiny mechanical feet, turning the same turns, and whistling the same song until he reached his home.

            Once the Clever Boy was home, he began to unpack the many shiny pieces. He laid them out gently and lovingly. It seemed as if everything was in order, so he decided he would reassemble the Broken Girl.

            Every day after his walk the Clever Boy would work on his Girl. The work was slow, but he was patient. And after a time, the Broken Girl no longer looked broken. However, it seemed as if a piece was missing after all. Luckily, the Clever Boy knew exactly what to do.

            He pinched the corner of his chest plate and pulled it open, exposing all the whirring cogs and gears. He reached in his chest and pulled out his Red metallic heart. He knew it would only hurt for a second, so he took a big mechanical breath and broke off a piece of it. He quickly put his heart back and closed the latch. He drove his tiny mechanical hand into the Broken Girl’s chest. He pulled back his hand and clutched it close to his chest. Then waited.

            A sputter.

            A clunk.

            A wheeze.

            And suddenly she wasn’t so broken anymore.

            So every day the Clever Boy, with his tiny mechanical feet, shuffled down the same cobblestone path. And every day the Clever Boy saw the same sights and turned the same turns and whistled the same song. And the Clever Boy was very, very happy because his Girl was holding his tiny mechanical hand.

 

New Grey 2

 

 

 

            My horse was skittish for a while. Not sure if it was the lingering scent of death or apprehension about moving forward. With each step farther from the battlefield, I could feel strength and power growing inside me. The Unknown Angel giving the Faceless Demon his blood. And now I was something new.

            My horse took me away from the battlefield and toward the timberline. Once I was surrounded by trees, I could hear whisperings. Each time I turned my head to see the source, my eyes saw nothing and the noise would stop. I nudged my horse to move a bit faster.

            I was very nearly through the trees when I finally saw black smoke tendrils dancing in the tree tops. Strange smoke creatures with reddened eyes looked back at me. Weird dog-shaped creatures that had clawed feet. They talked to each other in whistles and clicks, a language I was unfamiliar with. They moved almost ghostlike between trees just to reform ahead of me and watch me pass. I keep my eyes upward, watching them as I rode past. They didn’t seem malicious even though the sight of them was unnerving.

            Once I was through the thicket, I turned my horse around and looked back at the wood. There were hundreds of them crawling all over the tree tops, their red eyes luminous. “You don’t frighten me,” I stated in a clear voice.

            The murmurings stopped and they all stared at me. Then they hissed. I almost drew the sword I had at my side, when I realized they were laughing. They were laughing at me. All of them in unison, shaking the trees from their amusement. Why was I funny? And who were these things?

            I turned my horse away from the tree line and rocked forward in the saddle, encouraging my horse forward. There was only one place I knew to start looking for answers. And that was home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

New Grey

     It was black and charred. A twisted mess beyond recognition. It was hard to tell if it was a brother or sister. And the field continued like that for miles. Bodies broken and smoldering. The battlefield an overwhelming scene of death. I rode my horse along a twisted path to avoid touching the corpses. I did not want to disturb. I did not want anyone to know I was here. Everyone thought I was dead.
     After ten minutes of careful treading, I could finally turn around and take in the entire scene. There were hundreds of thousands of bodies from both sides littering the open field. The angels lay dead with the demons. The battle had taken more than its due from each opponent. I wanted to cry at the number lost by all. And where did it leave me? What was I now? Why was I spared?
     It almost seemed like a dream now. I was on my back, trapped under one of my dead sisters. The angel stood over me. I was sure he meant to drive his fiery weapon through me and claim his victory. He paused, and spoke “Surely, your wounds have already claimed your life. I can not claim what is already taken.” As he held his weapon aside, one of my brothers across the field made true with his bow and arrow. This nameless angel looked at his chest. He looked at me. “Learn,” was all he said. He pulled the arrow from his chest with a grimace. The blood from his wound was a fountain. It poured over me. It fell into my mouth and my eyes. I nearly choked. The angel fell forward and hid me from view. For the next three hours, I could only listen as casualties mounted all around me. The screams of my dying siblings intermingled with the prayers of the dying angels rang in my ears. At some point, I lost consciousness.
     When I awoke and heard nothing but silence, I pushed the dead angel from me. I was surprised by the ease of it. I sat up and moved my dead demon sister. Again, the actions were easier than they should have been. I stood up and found all my wounds had been healed. The angel’s blood coursed through my veins now as surely as my own. Some bizarre hybrid of light and dark. “Good” and “Evil”.
     Now the future lie unbearably open as I kicked my heels into my horse’s sides. I wasn’t sure where to go, so I let my horse decide the path.

The First Lie

 

 

            “Are you okay?”

            It was a simple enough question. And yet instantly time stopped and my brain was flooded with a million thoughts.

            Four years together. Four years that boiled down to this single moment. His confession was surprising but not completely unsuspected. I wasn’t a fool. I just never thought he’d admit it.

            My mind raced to hang on to the good things. The dinners. The laughter. The late night phone calls. My four years were spent telling him any thing and everything.  The first person I’d ever wanted to share all of my truths. And standing on this precipice of knowledge that I’d shared more than I ever had before with someone crushed my soul. I wanted to run away. I wanted to reject his words. I wanted to pretend nothing had changed. And yet here was his truth. His truth staring me in the eyes. His truth breaking my heart into a million pieces. His truth demanding an answer I could not give.

            What benefit was there in telling my truths any more?

             I raised my eyes. 

            “I’m fine.”

 

 

 

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - Black

 

 

         I’m not sure how long I’d been there. Ten minutes? Thirty? It seemed like an eternity passed since The Maestro had closed the door. My elbows and wrists were bound in front of me. I’d been given instruction to remain on my knees with my elbows propped on the side table. I’m sure at a casual glance I looked like I was praying. And maybe I was just a bit.

            When I heard the click of the door, my heart raced. I remained perfectly still. Looking towards the door would have been wasteful since I was blindfolded.

            Everything was perfectly Black.

            “You look perfect, girl. Well done. Your instructions are this: You may only answer Me with the word ‘no’. Is this understood?”   

            “No,” I replied without hesitation.

            I could hear the smile in His voice. “Very good, clever little girl.” The richness of his voice touched deep in my chest. The compliment made my heart grow.

            I listened as His feet crossed the room. I heard the hiss from a can of some carbonated beverage. “Would you like a drink?” The Maestro asked.

            The thought of the cool liquid was enticing. “No,” I countered.

            “Is there anyone else you’d rather have here?”

            “No.” It was the truest answer I’d given since He opened the door.

            I could hear Him as He crossed the room to reach me. He stood behind me and drew a line down my spine with the handle of the crop. Despite being surrounded by the Black, I could tell just how close He was to me. His presence always lit me like a bonfire. Just knowing He was close to me was enough to set every part of my body tingling.

            He leaned in behind me and breathed into my ear, “Do you love me?”

            I panicked. “No.” It was a lie. And He knew it.

            CRACK.

            It happened so quickly. The fire spread across my backside, and I flinched from the unexpected punishment. I clenched my teeth and steadied my breath.

            “Do you love me?” He repeated.

            “No,” I replied.

            CRACK

            This time the whimper was out before I could catch it. The Black had somehow gotten darker. I did not move from my knees or take my elbows from the side table.

            “Think on this, girl. I will ask again: do you love me?”

            I hesitated, unsure of what I had done wrong. “No.”

            CRACK CRACK

            Both cheeks were on fire as I felt the lick from each of His strikes. I could feel the panic rising in my chest as I struggled to understand my failure. Despite closed eyes and a heavy mask, I could feel the tears press their way from the corners of my eyes and make their way down my cheeks.

            “Do you love me?” He pressed.

            My voice was a mixture of a choke and whisper. “Yes.” I confessed. My tears were burning my cheeks as surely as the crop burned my backside.

            “Louder.”

            I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

            He plunged His hand deep into my hair and pulled downward, turning my face toward the sky. “Again.”

            “YES.” I said, the honesty of the statement crushing me and filling me at the same time.

            He pulled the blindfold from my eyes. What was pitch before was replaced with glaring light. I blinked several times while my eyes tried to adjust to the sudden shift. “Here is your lesson, girl. Your honesty means more to me than your obedience. You are to never lie about your feelings.”

            He released my wrists and elbows from their bindings and allowed me to rest on my heels. “Does a girl understand why this is important?” He asked as He sat on the edge of the bed.

            “I understand Maestro,” I answered as I turned to place my head in his lap.

            “That’s my good doll,” He soothed while toying with my hair. “Now when you are collected, you shall receive your reward.”

            And my soul smiled.

 

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - Blue

            She heard it long before she ever saw it. Jack, she whispered.

            She ran her fingers through her mussed hair in order to tame it a bit. When she turned around on her best friend’s front porch, she spied the 1968 Camaro rumbling down the street. Even in the yellow street lights, she could make out the rich, electric blue of the paint job. As many times as she had seen it, she never got over how breathtakingly beautiful that car was. As Jack put the car in park, he gave the gas pedal a good tap. The rumble of that motor matched the feeling in her gut. Powerful. Exciting.

            She took a step off the porch and headed toward the car. “Jaaaaa-aaaack!” she yelled in a sing-song voice. “What are you doing here?”

            The passenger side window was already rolled down. Jack leaned across the car and replied, “Heidi said you might need a ride home. How ya feeling, Rhi?”

            Rhiannon casually tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the door. “I’m just fine. Two or three glasses of wine aren’t enough to do me in,” she teased.

            “But what about the two or three mixed drinks after the two or three glasses of wine?”

            “Fine. Busted. I suppose I’ll have to thank Heidi tomorrow.” She waved to her friend and climbed into The Blue. The seats were soft and conditioned, just like she knew they would be. Jack always kept The Blue immaculate. “So Heidi called you to be my White Knight come to the rescue?” she said. The booze had allowed just a hint of southern drawl to come through in her voice.

            “Something like that,” Jack offered in response. He did a quick glance at his passenger. It was the height of summer, so Rhiannon had on a soft and frilly sundress. The gauzy material was hiked up just a bit more than it would normally fall, and he didn’t fail to notice how smooth her thigh was. Keeping his hands occupied, he shifted the car into drive and headed down the street.

            Rhiannon closed her eyes and rested her head on the seat. She turned her head to the left and opened her eyes. “You’re pretty, you know that?” she teased.

            “I’ve been told once or twice,” he replied with a laugh in his voice.

            “I’ve thought about you for a while now, Jack.” Rhiannon drew her fingers across the bench seat and onto Jack’s leg. “Quite a while now,” she repeated.

            “What about your husband? What would he think about this?”

            “Oh, that boy is at home and asleep already. Probably sacked out on the couch watching action movies.” Her hand continued to draw lines over Jack’s thigh. “But you…You’re the one come to take me home.”

            Jack felt an uneasy tension in his groin as the combination of Rhiannon’s drawl and light touch made it difficult to concentrate. “Well, he’s certainly missing out,” he said, wishing the five minute drive would be over.

            “You don’t have to take me home straight away, do you?” Rhiannon said with a small pout.

            “I think it best, Rhi. I’m meant to see you home safely.”

            Rhiannon gave his crotch a good rub. “Then until you drop me off at my door, this is what you get. Between you and the car, you get a girl all worked up just to shut her down. I can’t be the only left wanting.”

            Jack clenched his teeth and turned the corner. “I believe this is your house, m’lady,” he said, resting the transmission in park.

            “Fine. You’ll be back. Miss me while I’m gone,” she teased as she climbed out of The Blue. She strolled up the front walk and didn’t even bother to look back.

            Jack laughed and shook his head. “Goddammit woman. You’ll be the death of me yet.” He opened the garage door and pulled into the drive, eager to tuck his wife into bed.

Cavern

"You won't let go, right?" she said anxiously. She only stared ahead as we moved along with our group. 

I glanced over at her and gave her a grin. "I won't," I said. Her hand was already in mine. 

The tour guide had let us know that up ahead we would stop. We were Lord knows how deep inside the cavern, and they were going to shut off the lights. And here she was about to collide with anxiety. 

The group bunched up, and the guide told everyone to close their eyes. 

"Promise me," she whispered, closing her eyes. 

I turned to face her and grabbed both of her hands. "Promise."

Then off went the lights. 

Her grip tightened immediately when the guide said we could open our eyes. The cavern was as dark as pitch. There was nothing to be seen. I leaned into her and rested my forehead on hers. In that moment no one else was there. I rubbed my nose on her cheek and leaned close to her ear. "I'm right here," I whispered. I heard her exhale. I felt her tears fall onto my face. My lips found her cheek, beside the corner of her eye. I gave her a light kiss to wipe them away. "So brave," I said in honest admiration. 

Then the guide instructed us to close our eyes again as she brought up the lights. And moment was over. The lights came up and I watched as she opened her eyes again. This time accomplishment and relief shined in her eyes instead of fear. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

"I promised," I said. 

"I know," she replied. 

She pressed up to her tiptoes, and kissed me.