 
Wandering

Published by Angela Koeller at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Angela Koeller

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Note from the Author

This is a book of short stories all written by Angela Koeller. She would like to beg your help. One of these stories, apart from Singing in Limbo, shall become a novel in its own right. Please submit your votes to wandering07ak@gmail.com and the final tally will be taken 07.09.14. The chosen story will turned into a novel and published by 07.09.15. Thank you for your time and please enjoy these works.

The Sea Girl

Why is it so foggy? It made no sense to her as she walked alone on the ocean's shore. The sky had been clear, the sun shining, and no sign of rain, yet now there was a solid bank of fog over the ocean. Maybe it was the mist clouding her brain but she couldn't quite remember why she was wandering all by herself when she had her new husband waking up in their bed. Just thinking about him made her happy so she didn't know why she kept walking. She should go back to him and she knew she would, eventually. There was something she had to do first. What did she have to do so badly?

The sand was warm and soft beneath her feet. Waves crept toward her feet like naughty children, coming close and then backing away, as if they would be punished for touching. As she looked ahead of her, she thought she saw a figure lying on the sand. Curiosity took over and she hurried toward the spot. It was indeed a child lying in the sand, motionless as if sleeping. She knelt by the child and noticed in passing that it was a girl. Taking off her jacket, she covered her small body. When she picked her up, it started to rain. Perhaps the gods are crying for her, she thought to herself.

After she got home, she went to the spare bedroom and tucked the child in. She returned to her sleeping husband and decided to explain the situation when he woke up. Surely he would understand, or so she hoped.

\- - -

She woke abruptly to someone jabbing her arm. "Darlin', what's with the kid in the spare room? And after that, do you think you could make somethin' to eat, I'm hungry and you know I'm hopeless in the kitchen." It took her a few moments to remember what happened and then another few to gather her thoughts. Apparently that was too long for her husband because he began poking her again.

"Will you quit the poking, dear?"

He stopped and looked at her expectantly.

"Last night after you fell asleep, I went for a walk on the beach. She was just lying there. I couldn't leave her, she looked so helpless." Pausing, she waited for his acceptance and mild approval, which she got in the form of a small nod. She kissed him and after putting clothes on, went to make breakfast. Their honeymoon wouldn't turn out quite the way he had hoped, but she knew he loved her enough to take the loss for something important to her.

For days, the child lay in the bed sleeping. Although she was concerned, she did not attempt to wake her. Every once and while, water was forced through her lips that she swallowed automatically, which was a good sign. On the fifth day, a sudden burst of crying came from the spare room that she was informed of by a loud shout of, "Hey, Kari, the kid's awake!" She hurried to the room. Smiling at the tiny girl, she sat down on the bed beside her and held her close. How long it took to calm her was anyone's guess but after a while, her crying slowed and finally stopped. There was silence and the only noise that could be heard was the waves on the beach just out the door, which interested the girl once she could hear it. Kari gently picked her up and carried her to the beach, sitting down and holding the girl on her lap.

"What's your name?"

Moments passed with this question hanging in the air, and then the child answered. "I don't know."

"Where are your parents?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what do you know?"

"I love the sea."

-

"What are we supposed to do, Hugh? We can't abandon her; she doesn't know anything about herself, her family, or her past."

"So she claims."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. She needs us."

"I know." He said, smiling at her. "Damn, I can't deny you anything, can I? Too bad though, this is kick-starting the family idea a little sooner than I had anticipated."

She kissed him and went to go find the little girl. Well, not so much find her as figure out which beach she was on. It didn't take long because, in her fear, she hadn't wandered far from the people that had helped her. The little girl was sitting as close to the water as she could get without getting wet. She looked so hopeless sitting there in Kari's smallest t-shirt and shorts.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I don't know, dear, what do you want to happen?"

She didn't answer for several minutes, just sat there, looking at the sea. Then, she slowly rose to her feet and abruptly ran into Kari's arms. "Can't I stay with you? Or would the man be mad?"

"No, sweetie, the man wouldn't be mad. He looks mad sometimes but he's not."

A voice came from behind them, "You can stay with us if you want, kid, but you should know we don't live by the ocean, we're just here temporarily."

"Why don't you want to live by the ocean?"

They looked at each other and Hugh said, "Because we have commitments back home. Things that we have to do. That's our home."

"Well, I guess it would be ok to not be by the ocean all the time if I'm with you. Do you think we could come visit it sometimes?"

"Of course we could. Probably not as often as you want, but I think we could manage," Kari looked at her husband, "once a year, at least?" He nodded.

"Maybe more, if you're a good girl." Hugh added.

"I'll be a very good girl!" She ran and hugged him. He looked surprised but hugged her back. Then, he picked her up easily and put her on his shoulders. They all laughed for the first time as a family.

-

"Do you think we can adopt her? She'll need a birth certificate and everything to start school."

"They might send her picture and prints around to see if anyone claims her but then they should let us adopt her."

"What should we call her? We can't keep calling her dear and sweetie, even though she is."

"I don't know anything about naming a kid, you know that. You can name her whatever you want. Get a baby name book or something when you go into town to get her some clothes."

"You aren't coming with?"

"We can't just leave this state with her. We need to contact the authorities, let them do whatever it is they have to do to verify that she has no family here and no record period, and then they'll tell us what we need to do. Buy her what she needs for now. We can go all out when we get home. There'll probably be police here when you get back so warn her and try to keep her calm."

"Is it such an outrageous idea, moving out here? It's beautiful and not too far from a city where you could work."

"What about you? Will you be able to write your books with her around all the time?"

"I could write with her always hanging on my back. Writing for me is like breathing. You know that. As long as I have pen and paper, there's nothing that can stop me."

"Maybe we can move in a year or two, but not right now. Our parents would flip and you know it. Besides, they'll want to get to know our little water girl before we move away."

"You're right, I suppose. We'd better get going if we want to take care of all of the authority stuff before we go home in a week and a half. Be patient with the police, Hugh, this is a strange case for them."

"Yes, dear. Have a good time with her and don't take too long." He kissed her cheek and went to go find a phone in the area. Kari sighed. Too bad he had to do all of the tedious and difficult things while she got to go shopping and such. She would make it up to him but how she would do that, she didn't even know.

\- - -

Whatever reaction Kari had expected from the little girl when they were in town, she didn't see. Perhaps she thought fear would rule one so seemingly inexperienced with strange situations. Curiosity filled every action, every response that she had. This endeared her deeper into Kari's heart. It helped that the child was so invisibly bound to her, if she hadn't been, surely her curiosity would've carried her to places of danger or get her lost. Her writer's soul was quivering, imagining endless possibilities that had set the girl in her path that night. Most of the more mundane ideas were abandoned because few of them would cause someone to completely forget their past, as this one had. After she had figured out the purpose of shopping and how it was done, her childish enthusiasm picked up where her knowledge left off. All of the clothes she was drawn to had either aquatic themes or were some shade of blue, the favored shade being one remarkably similar to the color of her eyes; something she probably had not seen. Convincing her to try on shoes was a chore that hadn't been anticipated, but was dealt with. Time passed quickly, and after pausing to grab the baby name book, they headed back toward the house.

As Hugh had said, there were policemen there. At first the little girl had panicked, calming only when being held by Kari, and much to his surprise, Hugh. She gave the same answers she had given the other two earlier. The police asked the couple how much longer they were planning on staying, their month-long honeymoon working well for this adventure, since that how long they were asked/told to remain in the area.

-

They settled into a sort of routine after that. When they woke up in the morning, they would go play in the ocean for a while. Then they would have breakfast, Kari bathing and clothing the girl before whatever activity had been decided on for that afternoon. In the evening, Hugh would read to her or they'd build sand castles while Kari took some time to write. Every few days they were visited by someone, be it the police or social services, but they handled it in stride. As had been predicted, nothing came of the police searches or the social service's records.

Two weeks of pouring over the baby name book had led Kari to interesting thoughts.

"What do you want us to call you, sweetheart?"

An unhelpful shrug didn't help her growing frustration.

"Well, what would you like to call us?"

She opened her mouth only to close it again. Thoughts danced behind her eyes.

"If the people that keep coming here decide to let us keep you, we're going to need to tell them what name to put on your papers. Since you don't have one, you either need to pick one or let us pick for you."

"Can't I just call you Mommy and Daddy? Or is that wrong?"

"Does that feel right to you, calling us that?" She looked to Hugh and his answering nod led her to continue, "Whatever makes you happy is fine with us, dear. You can call us by those or by our names, whatever you are most comfortable with." This whole situation gave her an odd level of satisfaction and confusion at the same time. To be so abruptly shoved into motherhood was awkward but, seeing as she already loved the child, she may as well be her mother. Hugh felt the same, for the most part, acting more like a big brother than a father figure. If they got to keep her, he would learn.

Seemingly deep in thought, the girl went to play in the sand. Hiding her exasperation at yet another failed conversation relating to the little one's name, she turned away from her direction to glare at the wall, finding no solace in it. Hands moved up her back and ended up on her shoulders, trying to rub the tension from them, to no avail.

"Honey, are you sure you want to do this? Keeping her, I mean. Social services could find a home just as fit as ours with half our hesitations."

She turned to look at him. Whatever he saw in her eyes made him flinch.

"Sorry. I know you love her. I do too. But there are other options; we are not trapped in this. Choices can still be made. All of us can be happy. You finding her doesn't have to change our plans for the next fifteen years of our life, or more, were it to come to that. This isn't your burden to bear if you want it to be otherwise."

"I hear what you're saying, Hugh, truly I do. If you would like us to choose otherwise, you'd better speak up. In my heart, I want her, but my mind is having problems dealing with all of the details. Part of me feels I may be incapable of being someone's mother; that I'm too young, too inexperienced with children. But another part wants to believe that love can build that bridge, help me to care for her the way she needs to be cared for."

"Parenting is like anything, it's learned through trial and error. Our parent's weren't born knowing how to care for us. Besides, once we get back to the city, they can help us, their knowledge can help that bridge. Love is enough. It will make our lives harder if we keep her. That I know. But I also know she's worth it."

Kari seemed far away when he finished speaking, so he let her stay near whatever thought train she'd ended up on. Kissing her cheek, he went to go check on the tiny girl that had stolen what was left of his heart that he hadn't already given to his love. As is the nature of children, she asked him random questions about random things until it was time to go back inside and go to bed. If Kari decided it was better for the girl to live with people who already knew how to care for children, he would go along with that decision. People misunderstood all of the time the finer points of their relationship. He did not bend to her will --she won him over with her logic every time. Every once and a while, he had his own bouts of logic and, when he did, he won. On this matter though, her choice would rule, and he hated himself for forcing her to make this particular choice alone. It's not that he was incapable of deciding to keep the girl or not, quite on the contrary, he knew which he hoped his wife would pick. But her life would be much more profoundly affected than his and, because of this, he let her mull over her future. He could make either work, he was determined in this way, but she would be raising the girl until the whole school mess would be figured out and, even then, summers would fall to her. Tucking her in, her content smile shining in the darkness, he felt a peace he hadn't known could exist. Everything would be fine.

-

The choice was made and she was theirs, but they still needed a name for the birth certificate. A doctor, after examining her bone structure, teeth, and other details, had guessed she was around the age of six. Her birth date would be the day they found her, having no way to determine if this was false. In a way, she had been born that day.

"I get your last name, right?"

"Of course you do."

"So, do you guys have any ideas for my name?"

"How about Sasha?"

Something similar to a serious moue took over the child's face.

Kari laughed. "No, Hugh, that doesn't sound right at all. How about Toby or Jocelyn?

These suggestions made the little girl laugh outright.

"Oceana?"

More laughter.

"Moselle? Seems like a good fit, you were taken from the water after all, or near enough."

True seriousness controlled her features now. "Not right for a first name. Don't I need a middle name too?"

"Yes, you do, sweetheart. You like Hugh's idea for a middle name?"

Beaming, she chirped a, "Yup!"

They continued to go through countless ideas for a first name until one, randomly thrown out by Kari, was scooped up with more enthusiasm than the one for the middle name.

"Nixie? Really?"

"Yup!"

"Why?"

"Because maybe I really am a water sprite," she replied, giggling madly.

"How'd you know that, sweetie? I didn't tell you what it meant."

She shrugged while Kari and Hugh looked at each other with alarm. And thus, the mystery of little Nixie deepened.

\- - -

"Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Why is math boring?"

"Well, why do you think it's boring?"

"It's too easy." Her small voice had a smug sort of tone to it.

Rustling papers followed this. "Here, try this one."

Working on her newest novel and watching Nixie do preliminary schoolwork wasn't too difficult, although she was surprised at how advanced she seemed to be, in some subjects anyway. Despite all proof that she'd been outside any of any sort of educational system, she appeared to be a couple years ahead of her age group in artistic skills, math, and science. Unfortunately, she was behind in writing, history, and a couple of other vital areas, which meant she had to be home-schooled until she was at equal levels for everything. Kari was concerned about how this would affect her social development, but Nixie was able to meet other kids when she took her to the park before dinner every day. A lot of the kids thought she was kind of weird but there was one boy, Aidan, who enjoyed her company. They talked mostly about things relating to the water. He lived near the park so he would wander over whenever they got there just to talk to her. When they had first met it was because he was drawn to her clothes, the blues and water scenes calling to him, day after day. Aidan was a few years older than Nixie. The boy seemed desperate for her to start school, probably so they could talk more. Or maybe he was lonely. At his age, it was hard to believe he could be truly lonely, but children can be cruel to those they can't understand. Nixie was one of these, and Aidan must be too. Thankfully, for the two of them, they had each other.

It took a long time to convince Aidan to come over to the house. Kari talked to his mother countless times, tried to bribe him in all the ways she could think of that were acceptable. What finally convinced him to come was nothing she did. One day, Hugh had brought home a fish tank, with all the things needed to start a salt-water habitat. He and Nixie were co-conspirators for the next few days, setting it up, buying the fish, and naming them all. They managed to do all of this without Kari finding out because she was immersed in writing her novel. As soon as Hugh came home from work, it was his turn to take care of Nixie. The day after they finished it, they showed it to her, basking in her praise and awe. All of the fish glistened in a different shade of color, the whole rainbow represented. Nixie was so excited, she told her their names and why she had picked them. The next time she saw Aidan, she was bursting with the desire to tell him about it, sparing no detail. She had, apparently, begun to notice the personalities of the different fish. This drew Aidan in to such an extreme that he begged to leave right away to go see. That night they spent hours with their noses pressed against the glass, talking in low tones. A few days later, they had developed an elaborate story that explained the interactions between the fish in the tank. Drama, to Kari and Hugh's surprise, could thrive between fish. At least, that's what Nixie said, Aidan standing a step behind her, grinning like a fool. He came over every day after that, a craving almost to the point of obsession. Playing at the park became a chore for them, since Kari refused to take them home until they had a bit of fun there. Sometimes Aidan would bring his homework, not only to appease his mother, but so he could stay longer, not having to go home to do it. He'd sit right next to the fish tank, his eyes flashing between his paper and the racing fish. In the beginning, Nixie helped him with his math homework, until he got to material that was beyond her. They grew close, drawn together by the indefinable lure of the large, glowing fish tank. Some said that he only remained friends with Nixie because of it, but all who knew him knew this wasn't true.

Months later, with the help of Aidan and her own determination, she reached the point where she could enter a public school. She would be a grade behind Aidan and the school system said they would test her skills every few weeks to be sure that it was the proper placement. Kari missed her when she was gone at school and, although she accomplished much more as far as her writing was concerned, that and basic household chores she couldn't avoid, she wished she was back. Since Nixie had started school halfway through the year, it was summer soon enough and they were both glad to go back to their old routine. Things at school went much like they had at the playground. Aidan and Nixie found solace in one another's company. Because it was summer, Kari decided it was time to go back to the ocean. Nixie refused to go at first, concerned about her fish tank and its thriving occupants. Quizzing Hugh on how to take care of them, she didn't agree to go until she was satisfied, making him promise multiple times that he would give them the attention and love they deserved. He had to work so he was unable to join them, which was just as well, for the fishes' sake. Kari tried, and failed, to convince Aidan's mother to let him come with. Evidently, she got nervous when he was too far away from her. There was nothing they could do to change her mind though.

So they packed up everything they needed and some stuff that they didn't, and drove to the little house near where Nixie had been found. They spent most of the car ride singing with songs on the radio and chatting about what they wanted to do once they reached their destination. Nixie's ideas were fairly simple. She wanted to play in the sand and in the ocean, and to Kari's surprise, she asked to be taken to the highest point in the area that you could see the ocean from. Oh, and the lighthouse near there. To Kari's knowledge, Nixie wasn't fond of heights, so the ocean view request confused her. Their vacation was going to be long enough that they would have time to do all of these things and more. Two weeks was an acceptable amount of time for a vacation in any sense of the word. Hugh would miss them enough as it was, any longer would be cruel.

Mostly out of curiosity, Kari went about trying to figure out where the highest point was first. The locals knew, so it wasn't that hard to figure out. On the second day, they drove up a steep hill that had trees on both sides of the road. For the entire ride, Nixie kept asking how you could see the ocean from the top if you couldn't even see it on the way there. But as soon as they reached the top, she knew. It was hard to keep her away from the edge of the cliff; her excitement had her darting around looking at everything, though she said nothing. Kari drank in the view until she'd had enough, then she sat in the car, watching Nixie, yelling when she needed to. After a while, she must've gotten tired out because she just went as close to the edge as Kari would let her and sat down. She sat there, staring into the distance, not caring how much time passed. When the sun was ready to set, Kari told her it was time to go back. Without a word, she rose and climbed into the car. It was a couple days until she could be convinced to say anything, but she slowly worked up to her regular speech level. Time was on their side. They went to the lighthouse, shopping around the town, and they spent countless hours playing at the beach and in the ocean.

Watching her play in the ocean soothed Kari, especially since she hadn't been able to write for days. For whatever reason, her words had stopped coming and it hurt her in ways no one else could ever imagine. Hearing footsteps approach, she turned to see who was coming. A man, who looked ordinary in every way, came to stand next to where she was sitting.

"She's a remarkable child." His voice gave her chills.

"Yes, she is."

"You don't know the half of it. And how could you."

Bristling at his condescending tone, she shot back, "And how would you know any of it? That child is the one that Fate gave me. Whatever mysteries hide inside of her, surely she was given to me to bring about some end."

"I doubt her destiny is something _you_ are capable of encouraging."

With that, he walked away or, at least, it sounded like he did. Nothing would make her look in his direction. There was no way he should have been able to provoke her like that, and yet he had. That only made her angrier at him, whoever he was. After a while, she scanned the beach and noticed there were no footprints to commemorate his passage. It was as though he were a figment of her imagination. A figment of her nightmares.

\- - -

Hugh and Aidan were at the house when they returned, and there was no way to know which was more relieved. Aidan, who was usually very reserved, especially around Kari and Hugh, rushed Nixie for a hug that seemed to calm him considerably. The children went to go talk by the fish tank, which gave them the chance to have their emotional reunion. They had not been apart for that long since before they got engaged. There was kissing, hugging, and a lot of words that would've grossed the kids out.

The rest of the summer was spent lazily, for the most part. Kari studied with Nixie a little bit, to be sure that she was prepared for her next year of school. Other than that, they mostly played at the park, had movie days, and took a special trip to an aquarium a few towns away. As far as Kari's writing went, her words were still lost. She was also having problems sleeping, since the 'Dark Man', which is what she called him, kept creeping into her dreams. He never said anything, just stood in the background of whatever dream she was having, glaring at her. After a few weeks of this, she remembered a dream from the night before when she actually screamed at him to state his purpose and/or go away. At the time he had left, for which she was grateful. For a few months, he had stayed gone. Just long enough to lull her into a false sense of security. When she was finally used to getting normal amounts of sleep, he appeared in a dream dedicated to only him, rather than appearing in the background.

"I will take her and I will return her. If you show faith in me, I will return your words to you at the same time."

A realization struck her then. "You stole them from me to use as leverage! They were mine to start with, they always have been! You cannot return what has always been mine!"

"If they are always yours, why can't you find them now?"

She fumed, but had no response.

"As I said, if you show faith, you can have your words back when I return her."

"How long will she be gone? She has obligations in this world. Why do you even want her? What are you going to do?"

"She won't be harmed, that's all you really need to know. Time passes at a different speed where we're going versus where you are. Nixie, as you call her, will only be gone a few days."

"Let me think about this for a while. I need time to process this information." Anger still filled her, but she tried to force her voice to stay calm. There was no way to know the extent of his powers and what he could do to her. This whole mess would be easier if the Dark Man would express some emotions; he was always so neutral in tone and body language.

"Fine. I will return in a week. Sleep well until then." And then he was gone as if he'd never been there.

As if she could sleep well now.

-

Pretending as though nothing was wrong was no easy task. She told Hugh about the dream, not that it did any good. He decided that it was her subconscious trying to come up with some rational about her not being able to write. Part of her wanted to let her anger fly right then and there, though she knew Hugh didn't deserve her anger, the Dark Man did. There was no way he'd stand for it, but he did deserve it. Wishing he'd give her some glimpse of what he wanted with Nixie wouldn't do her any good either. If he thought she was capable of stopping him or if he wanted her to know, he would've told her already. That would've made this whole mess so much easier to deal with. But no, the Dark Man was a stubborn as every other man. Wow. She really needed to calm down. It was out of her hands, but she couldn't bring herself to admit defeat. Nixie was hers, maybe not by blood, only in every other way that mattered.

Stopping him wasn't an option. Telling Nixie wasn't an option either. Every time she tried, something came up that she had to do or take care of. This was a not-so-subtle way of the Dark Man mocking her and she hated him for it.

As he had promised, a week later he was back. Of course, it took her so long to fall asleep that night she almost missed him. Maybe he had something to do with how she managed to fall asleep in the end, since her mind was as restless as it had been. Apparently, she had a habit of pacing in her dreams too. He didn't say anything at first, just watched her pace, expressionless as always.

"Have you made a decision?"

"I didn't know there was a decision to be made. It didn't sound like there was; only two different reactions that I was allowed to have. That is not a decision in any sense of the word." Her growl seemed to amuse and annoy him, as though he wasn't used to people fighting against him.

"You make a valid point. I'd like an answer either way though."

"I have conditions." He was openly laughing at her now. "If she's gone more than three days our time, I don't care if I ever get my words back again, I will search for her using all of my resources. And everyone will hear about you." The laughter stopped then, she must've hit a nerve.

Now he was the one who was growling. "You ought to be careful about who you threaten."

"It wasn't a threat. It was a fact." Her falsely cheery voice was full of implications. "Whatever consequences I face, I love her and will find her, I don't care who you are. Just because you are a mysterious night creeper doesn't mean you can scare me."

He forced a civil smile then. "Fine, I accept your conditions and I will take good care of her." And he was gone, same as before.

\- - -

What Kari had no way of knowing was that she wasn't the only one having the Dark Man appear in her dreams. Nixie had been seeing him for as long as she could remember. For the longest time, he didn't say anything, just watched her do whatever it was she was doing in her dream. Then he started taking her to various places of beauty, places she knew she was incapable of imagining. She had theories that had something to do with her life before she had been found on the beach. There was no way to know for sure what happened before that, and she couldn't ask him; he'd never answer that question in a straight-mannered way. All she could do was enjoy the scenery and wait for him to speak.

One dream, she asked him to take her to a specific beautiful place that he'd already shown her. Before he took her there, he asked, "Why that one?"

Shocked that he had spoken, she hesitated before answering. "Because a part of my soul is there."

"How do you know that?"

"How does anyone know anything? I just do. That place makes my heart sing."

He almost smiled then, or so it seemed. They went, and he said nothing else for a long time. Every once and a while, he'd show her pictures of people, perhaps wondering what reactions she would have to them. She noted various details when this occurred, but nothing significant was learned. After several such sessions, he seemed frustrated, but she didn't know what he wanted. Though she knew little about him, she would give him whatever it was he wanted as far as it related to these pictures; she was at a complete loss. Her young mind saw nothing of value in these uses of her time. One day, she said so.

Sitting down on the ground, disregarding his pictures, she stated, "I'm not doing that today. This time, you're going to tell me about you. I don't even know your name. Mommy says it's bad to talk to strangers. Tell me things."

His face flipped through a variety of emotions and reactions before carefully composing itself. "Your mommy is right, talking to strangers is bad." Pausing for thought, he sighed. There was no way to talk his way out of this one. Her fierce expression told him that much, her head cocked to one side, openly curious. "You can call me Mr. Nessuno, if you want."

Her face twisted a little bit. "Mr. Nessuno? No, that's too stuffy if you're my friend. You are my friend, right?"

"I want to be, Nixie, if you'll let me."

"Good. Can I call you Uno? Nope. Not that. That's a game I played with Mom and Dad. Muno? Nomer?" Concentration filled her face as she thought for several moments. "I'll think about it, is that ok?"

"Yes, of course."

"Tell me other things."

Forcing a laugh, which sounded like it had been trapped in his chest for a very long time, he asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Well, that's a start."

"A start to what?"

She was too perceptive by far. "Never mind, little one. My mind was wandering."

"So, does that mean you won't tell me anything? Why do grown-ups always keep secrets from me?"

"It's not about keeping secrets from you, it's about keeping you safe."

"I want the truth over safety any day. But no one listens to me when I say that."

"Can I think about what I'll tell you and tell you next time? There's a lot I could tell you. I need to sort through all of it."

"I guess so. Do you pinkie promise you'll tell me next time?"

"Sure."

Then she smiled and made a goofy face. "You're still going to make me look at the pictures, aren't you?"

"Please?"

She grumbled for a little bit until she finally muttered, "Fine then." Her tone was hesitant when she made comments on them. It was almost time for her to wake up when they finished. Patting her on the head, he left, going wherever it was that he went when he wasn't with her. To say she was upset with him didn't cover all of it. Why was asking his origins such a hard question? He knew everything about her; it seemed only fair that he share as well. But he wouldn't, she knew, until he felt it was the 'right' time. Over time, he'd dodged every question he hadn't liked; it was only a matter of time.

-

Her waking hours were normal. She went to school, played with Aidan, and spent time with her family. They had no reason to suspect that she was visited by a strange dark figure in her dreams at least once a week, sometimes more. Although, after the conversation that demanded information from him, he disappeared for quite some time, so long in fact that she became very worried that she had made him angry. Well, it was true, she had made him angry. But he wasn't mad at her, he was mad at himself, and the people that had encouraged him in this path. There was no turning back now that he had seen the full extent of her potential. From a distance he had seen only so much. In person he could barely wrap his mind around it. Part of him was afraid of teaching her the things she needed to know to grow into her full potential, afraid of the person she would become with such powers at her disposal. He'd known too many people who had attained such power just to watch it destroy them, some slowly, some in a matter of days. He couldn't bring himself to quit now. Besides, how was he to know what her destiny was, at least in full? There was no way. All he could do is put his faith in this small girl and hope something came of it. To give her the truths she required was a heavy price though, and he didn't want to pay it, though he had little choice. He needed her trust in full, because this would never work if it was only given to him in pieces, driven by her whims. So he was forced to earn her trust in such a way that could make or break whatever it was that they had, be it friendship or some sort of teacher/student bond. Lying to her wasn't an option; she would know. She wouldn't know how she knew he was lying, but she would, and then the trust would be lost, never to be regained. In all ways, she really was quite a remarkable child.

-

"So, Sunny, tell me things. You promised you would."

He laughed internally at the irony of his poorly chosen nickname. "What do you want to know? I won't just go on tangents. You'll have to ask me direct questions for direct answers."

"You sound like Mommy."

"I don't mean to."

She smiled, "That's ok. Let me think for a minute."

Flipping through scenes, trying to decide where to settle for this dream sequence, he waited for her to find her thoughts.

"Stop," she commanded, "This one's new. I want to be here today. It feels right."

With a nod of his head, he settled the scene, still waiting for her questions.

"How were you born?" How, not when. She was far too clever.

"I don't know."

Confusion filled her features as she cocked her head to one side, her curiosity lit aflame.

"I don't remember being born and I don't remember being a child. One day I appeared, as you see me now. I've learned a lot since then, but essentially, I'm the same."

"Why were you created?"

"I can't be sure. No one ever really told me. But I like to think I was created to teach little girls like you."

"Teach what?"

"That depends on the person. You're still too young for me to know what to teach you, but when I figure out, I will."

She mumbled under her breath, even she didn't know what she said.

"Anymore questions?"

"Of course, I need to think of some more, give me a few minutes. Jeez."

Time passed, he didn't know how much.

"There are other girls like me?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. They are similar to you in some ways, and different in others."

"Can I meet them?"

"You will someday."

"Are there boys too?"

"Some. Less of them than girls though."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not sure. There may not be a reason. It just happens that way."

"Oh." She slumped, her face contorted, trying to think of more questions probably. Minutes later, she started pacing, which seemed to help her a little. Frustration had almost overtaken her. While he waited, he sat down on a rock, gazing into the water that was before him. Of course she had a tendency to favor water scenes.

"Sunny, what's your real name?"

"It's in a language you can't pronounce. One that's been long dead."

"How can a language die?"

"A language is dead when people stop speaking it. Only people like me remember it now."

"But then it's not really dead, right?"

"It's dead. We don't speak it. We can't. We only know it. That's the difference."

"That's sad."

"Yes, it is."

"So, there are other people like you?"

"Some."

"Will I ever meet them?"

He flinched and paled, the strongest reaction she'd ever gotten from him. "If you have faith, my dear girl, pray that you never ever do. They are very different from me and are kind in no ways. They don't want you to learn, and if you do, they will want to corrupt you so they can use whatever powers you have to reach their own ends. Had they the power, they would have snuffed out my existence long ago. Then the world would be an evil place and they would be worshipped, as they were centuries upon centuries ago."

Her voice was small when she spoke again. "There are no exceptions? All of them are bad?"

"Only one is like me. My twin sister, as far as I can tell. I don't know if she's actually my sister. We were created at the same time with the same purpose. Or so it seems. We use different methods, teach different people, but we strive for the same goal."

"Can I meet her?"

"I don't know. Even I haven't seen her in a very long time."

"But she's your sister. Don't you miss her?"

"Sometimes."

They both got lost in thought for a while until Nixie said, "It's almost time for me to wake up so I'll ask you more questions next time." And silence fell between them until the sun came up.

\- - -

It had been so long since Kari had the conversation with the Dark Man about him taking Nixie, she thought he might have changed his mind. Then came the day when she and Hugh woke up and she was gone without a trace. That was when Hugh finally believed Kari about the dreams with the Dark Man in them. He tried to pump her for information, but alas, she had little to share. At first, he wanted to call the police. Kari stopped him. There was nothing they could do. All they could do was try to trust the Dark Man and, if he failed to keep his promise, they would make good on Kari's threat. She didn't want to. The writer inside of her was, by this point, screaming for her words to return, feeling trapped inside her mind, in a box with no light or air or sound. If she followed through on her threat, there was no way he'd give her words back. Granted, it was hard to know if he'd do it anyway. But she desperately hoped he would. Who knows how much longer she could stay sane without them. After she was gone for two days, Aidan started freaking out. Kari told him some pretty lies to calm him down, hoping she would be back soon. He didn't seem to believe her.

\- - -

When he came to take her, she was surprised. She thought that the extent of the time they spent together would be in dreams only. So, when he appeared at her bedside, motioning for her to follow him, she wasn't sure what to do. A part of her knew that it would be wrong to leave without getting permission from Kari and Hugh, but then she'd have to explain her dreams and all she knew about Sunny, and she didn't want to do that. Because she trusted him, she took his hand and let him lead her from the house. Once they were outside, they seemed to jump from her front yard to a fantastic strange place where she'd never been before.

"What's going on, Sunny? Why are we here?"

"Because what I need to teach you cannot be taught in a dream."

"But what about Mommy and Daddy? They'll get worried if I'm gone when they wake up."

"You'll only be gone for a few days. I already asked your Mom and she said it was ok. Time passes differently here."

"Mommy knows about you? She never said anything."

"She doesn't think you know anything about me, and she couldn't talk to you about me because that would make this whole thing more complicated. It's best that I only talk to her in dreams, telling her what she needs to know, and nothing else."

Shuffling her feet, her curiosity slowly overcame her worry and frustration at his need to be mysterious. "What are you gonna teach me?"

"A lot of things. Are you ready?"

Hesitating, she was afraid of the future, if only for that moment.

"Yup!"

"Then let's get started."

One Tree in a Forest

Was it still a home when no one lived there? It had seen better days, that's for sure. But even when it was uninhabited, it had a personality all its own. The paint was worn, the metals dull, and when it was occupied the lighting made it slightly eerie. White paint looked clean in the daylight while darkness made it seem ghostly. Such coloring made it impossible for it to ever blend into the scenery, whether the owners wanted to or not. It seemed so artificial in the depths of nature.

But that was what she liked about it. As it floated on gentle waves, it was as out of place as she was when she was in civilization. Her mother's response had made it worth every penny she had paid. "A houseboat? How are you going to meet the father of my future grandbabies if you're living in the middle of nowhere?" Nothing she had said would convince her mother that it was a good idea, but at least she was giving her the silent treatment. This allowed Ivy to have a few days of peace in her perfect place.

She didn't work a normal nine to five job like most people. Her funds weren't endless but since she sent her editor things from time to time, there was nothing to worry about. He was kind and thorough enough to make sure she had money to live on.

It got lonely on the houseboat so every few days she'd have to drive it toward the societal hub that was the town in the harbor. After the long silences, the noise of town battered her sensibilities. She'd gas up her boat, go get groceries, and bring them back to her tiny kitchen. With the daylight she had left, she'd wander around town trying to find some clothes she may need, maybe getting a new book, and going in search of her single and greatest guilty pleasure, Caribou Coffee.

By the time she got to the nearest Caribou Coffee, it was starting to get dark out and the workers were anxiously waiting to be released from their heavenly smelling prison. One of them audibly groaned when she walked in, to her amusement and displeasure. Unhappy workers made bad coffee. The guy behind the counter tried to pretend interest and after a few moments, he asked, "What can I get for you?"

-

Her face twisted, flitting between indecisiveness and excitement. "A Vanilla Cooler with espresso beans."

I took her money while Suzie made her drink. When I brought it to her at the counter, her face almost glowed. "Thank you," she peeked at my nametag, "Todd."

Smiling quickly at her, I turned and went back to work. Continuing to draw my attention, she sat down at a table and started humming when she wasn't drinking her coffee, always smiling.

It seemed weird to me that someone could be so completely happy by themselves. I don't know when that mental shift happened and when I realized how cynical I'd become, I contented myself by watching her enjoying her own company.

Time passed and, after she'd finished drinking her caffeinated, diabetes inducing drink, she wandered out the door, still humming. Part of me wished that I'd tried to talk to her or that she'd started a conversation with me, but I knew that I would've ended up putting my foot in my mouth. And that was not the way I wanted to end my workday. Awkwardness really can be a way of life rather than a temporary state of mind. If only she hadn't been so terribly interesting.

I put her out of my mind with significant effort. Work was almost over so I had to finish everything that I had to do and ponder what I wanted to do after I made my escape. Um, I mean, after I punched out. Because of the time, my options were oddly limited. Spending time with friends was out because I was not in the mood to handle human interaction. Well, I probably could've managed, but they were already at parties. They felt the need to pretend that their high school years were full of meaning rather than just being a boring stage before reality slapped them in the face. I heard a disembodied giggle before I realized that it was coming from my own throat. My bitterness surprised even me sometimes.

Walking back from work, I focused on the sounds around me rather than my own thoughts. Surely this was a healthy way to attempt to function. Or not. Oh well. I bumped into someone while I was on autopilot and didn't even stop to say sorry. Why was that? I usually wasn't that rude. What was wrong with me that day? Frustrated by my own dissociation from my reality, I chose to simply go to sleep, thinking about not thinking.

-

The sun was beating on the top of my head. It made me want to crawl back into my room with its indirect lighting and the calm that comes with darkness. I never really understood how anyone could be afraid of the dark. In the darkness, there are no details; all is glossed over and given the same flatness as everything else around it. There was no doubt that things in the darkness could hurt anyone --of course they can-- but not to the extent of the details shown in light. Darkness allows the colorblind to see everything the same as everyone else, whether they are aware of it or not. It lets children imagine their bed is a sailboat taking them to fantastic places before miraculously returning them in time to get ready for school. Or lets a teenager believe that the shadow on their floor is actually their dog curled up as it always was, though it had disappeared years ago. Even an adult could use darkness to maintain their sanity like, let's say, a guy pretending he'd caught his wife in bed with a perfect stranger rather than his best friend. But that's just an example.

There was no real reason for me to be outside today. Some twisted compulsion had lured me out of my fluorescent haven. As my skin remembered how to receive the rays of sunshine, I was able to loose some of the tension from my body. Perhaps I was hoping to run into that jerk that had bumped into me when I was taking my nightly walk. Or perhaps I was subconsciously seeking a change in routine. An attempt at living instead of hiding.

Well, I thought, as long as I'm out I may as well go to the bookstore. New material would do amazing things for my imagination. Maybe. Last time went horribly wrong. Nightmares taught me that horror books would never be for me. Books had always been the best way for me to escape. Focusing on someone else's life gave the option of forgetting one's own. It was a lonely, pathetic way to live but what else could be done?

My feet led me through the streets to my favorite bookstore. It had the most random selection and changed owners almost as often as regular bookstores modified their staff. This was purely an assumption, of course, since I never really went anywhere else for my reading material. The new owner even knew me by name, which surprised me since no one really bothered to note it. A tiny bell seemed to clamor at my arrival. She was preoccupied when I got there so I perused the shelves trying to find something interesting and new. It would be easier to find something with her help; she knew entirely too much about everything. Despite the fact that the place was small and the shelves were packed in, the mildly lit store felt spacious. Although that may have been because every sound echoed as though it was screamed rather than being a muttered phrase or a dust-induced sneeze. The latter of which happened entirely too often there.

"Hello, Alex."

-

"Hey, Pandi." He smiled.

"How are you?" I paused. "Why are you out in the daylight?"

"I'm all right. And I have no idea."

It was interesting when Alex came to visit. He never said or did what I expected. "What are you looking for today?"

"Nothing specific. Although I thought of a question for you the other day after I left."

Attempting to keep my face neutral, I asked, "And what would that be?" Someone asking about my personal life was a novelty, though I was aware of Alex's extreme curiosity.

"Is Pandi your given name or is it short for something?"

"My parents enjoyed mythological things. Since it was a miracle that I was even conceived, they named me Pandora. But it sounds a bit silly so I introduce myself as Pandi instead."

"Interesting." He chuckled for a second. "I bet the kids in school called you Panda a lot." Clearing his throat, he added, "I'm not familiar with mythology. Could you help me find a good book about that?"

"Sure, I know the perfect one."

After finding the book for him, having him pay for it, and him meandering out while he attempted to prolong the conversation, I basked in the return of true silence. This bookstore had been my home for a few months, but it's still the only place that's truly been my own. The books I sold didn't draw the same masses as the big chain stores. Money was never the point. On any given day, I could walk down the aisles, immersing myself in the silence of the written word. At the rare moment when someone came in, the bell had a tendency to scare my wits from me. Sometimes my visitors would be looking for something specific while others, like Alex, seemed to like the place, the smell of old books, and the never-ending quiet.

I'd bought that place on a whim after finding it by accident. My move from where I had been to the apartment above the store had surprised neighbors, both past and present. Neither had spoken to me much, though my new neighbors had a tendency to wander through the store, eyeing me with questions they'd trapped inside themselves. If they had asked, I'm sure I would've answered, but no one did. It never really bothered me, being isolated that is. That was how it always had been. As they usually did, my parents kept asking how I could be the way I was, existing without close friends or even a pet. They were the reason I never had a phone installed in my apartment.

The tinkling of a bell, which was surprising twice in one day, interrupted my train of thought. He shuffled his feet, trying desperately not to be noticed. At least that's what it looked like. The attempt to look inconspicuous was a tactic I used more than I should. Over the course of the next twenty minutes, he slowly worked his way toward me. I could only sit behind the counter with my book of the day pretending he was as close to invisible as he thought he was. Eventually he made it to his short-term goal.

"Hi."

Curious and cautious, I tried to make my smile welcoming. "Hi."

He thought for a couple moments before saying, "I just moved to this town so I'm stopping at all the stores that look interesting to see what's where."

"That sounds like fun. What's your name?"

"Murphy. Yours?"

-

"Pandi."

"Short for Pandora?" The question was asked with my voice, but I didn't ask it. Which didn't make sense.

"Yes. No one else has guessed correctly."

My smile came on its own after that. "But it wasn't a guess. It makes sense."

Her sweet smile turned into laughter and suddenly my awkwardness was ok with me. To be able to make a stranger smile and laugh like that. So completely. As though the expressions of amusement were underused and appreciated being released on such an occasion.

"I hope you stop by again sometime. My shop has a bit of an eclectic selection, but I'd enjoy helping you find whatever you happen to be looking for." She quit talking abruptly, as though she had changed her mind about saying something else that was resting on her tongue.

I had run out of words, so all I could do was smile and nod. On my way toward the door, I very nearly tripped on my own feet. Exactly the opposite of the impression I wanted to leave her with. On that note, I decided to go home for the day. After walking the few blocks to my car, I fell into it, having unsurprisingly stumbling on a rock or something. A part of me wished my mother hadn't named me Murphy, regardless of our family history. I was relatively sure that she kicked herself for that as well, considering how many things I'd broken while growing up.

Starting the car went all right, as did putting it in gear and pulling away from the curb. That day my luck ended up being worse than days before and after it. But such is life. Driving back to my new house, I spaced out, which was never a good plan.

My brakes had given up since my luck had surrendered. The crash happened as though I was watching it from the sidewalk. I checked to make sure the woman was ok, so I could be sure I wouldn't end up back in prison. One mistake really can haunt you for the rest of your life because no one will believe guilt or innocence after you've gone through the twisted thing that was the court system. The cop gave me a dirty look when he ran my information but when they looked at the car, they could tell my version of the events was right. Thankfully the woman backed me up, even though she was still in a state of shock and her face was wet with tears.

Of course my car was totaled so I had to walk home. Fantastic. Great day. As I was walking, I noticed the woman who had been in the other car pause when driving by me. Her car had miraculously survived. My bitterness tried to eat me from the inside out. Impatience moved me to speak so rudely that I'm ashamed to think of it now. "What can I do for you? Or, rather, how much pity did it take to get you to stop and speak to me." I paused briefly before adding, "Thanks for backing me up though. The cops never want to believe an ex-con, no matter what their circumstances are."

Her face twisted and it looked for a minute like she was going to drive away.

-

"I'm sorry to bother you, Murphy, but I wanted to offer you a ride to wherever you're going."

His face moved between surprise, awkwardness, and remorse. "Um. That would be very nice. Thank you."

"My name's Liza." What was wrong with me? I was an idiot giving a self-proclaimed ex-con a ride. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? "Where can I drop you?"

Using clipped tones, he directed me to a house set off from the rest, not just by its distance from the other houses, but also in its architecture and coloring. Oddly, it suited him. At least it did as far as I could tell. I waited until he'd gotten all the way to his door. He tripped halfway there but caught himself quickly, almost running to his door afterward. A wave in my direction encouraged me to leave.

Overcompensation was the only word that could describe my cautious driving on the way home. All I did once I got there was drink some tea and crawl into bed, letting the shock I felt at the crash fill and slowly leave me. Hours later I fell into a deep sleep, so deep that my dreams were nearly non-existent. What woke me was the sensation I'd felt when the cars had collided and lights I'd never seen flashing behind my eyelids. I called in sick because I simply could not deal with reality. For most of that day and the next, all I did was lie in bed and watch movies, focusing every iota of attention I had on them, whether I thought they were good or not.

Days later, without looking at the clock, I dragged my lazy self out of bed and took a shower. That helped clear my mind, but the rest of me still wanted to collapse back into my warm, soft bed. It had comforted me and I wanted to rely on it a bit more. Coffee. I wanted coffee. Of all the things that would motivate me to keep moving, it was that. Pulling on sweats and a t-shirt, I walked, being temporarily afraid to drive, to the coffee shop downtown. After ordering and receiving my blessed cup of caffeine from a flighty blonde worker, I settled myself in a booth.

People around me examined my face, or it felt as though everyone did. A few must have seen something because they asked if I was all right. My coffee eventually ran out but I continued to sit there, not knowing what I was waiting for. An hour later, a woman I'd never seen before slid into the seat across from me.

Molding my face to how I thought it should look, I sat unmoving, hoping she'd explain herself. She was smiling, gazing adoringly at her drink. Moments passed, and then entire minutes. Still she said nothing.

"Hello. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, I think." She looked surprised that I'd spoken. "You looked like you could use some company, that's all. I'm Ivy."

-

"I'm Liza. Nice to meet you." The woman forced a smile.

Ivy stayed where she was, not talking and humming occasionally. She thoroughly enjoyed her drink, drawing her caffeinated experience out as long as humanly possible. When she'd finally finished, she patted Liza on the hand and took her leave, meandering back to her floating castle. Well, it seemed like it to her at least. Steering her boat toward nowhere, she drifted away. Away from civilization, away from everyone she knew or might someday know, and away from anyone who thought her to be anyone she was not. Only when alone was she herself. And, in the end, that's all anyone was. One insignificant bit of chaos in the universe. One soul among billions. One tree in a forest.

Unrequited

This is not your typical love story. Well, it sort of is. A typical unrequited love story, actually. Except for one big difference, which is me. I am a damned soul. Literally. More of a damned soul with perks since I'm not being burned for all of eternity. The top of the damned soul food chain in hell is kind of an errand boy for demons where they don't eat your face at the end of the day. It's a good gig, from a certain angle. So, what's my job, exactly? They send me top side through secret doors all over the planet to kill people that have huge positive impacts on humanity. Kind of a scale-tipper for the evil side. Not even the big guy downstairs knows when the world's going to end so he likes to have some contingency plans. How and why I got this gig is bit of a complicated story so we're moving past it for now.

You're probably curious about a few details at this point. Some guy tells you there's a love story and he kills people, I can understand why an eyebrow or two would pop. Girls like bad boys, don't they? I've heard that said but I also have pretty much the worst luck on the planet so, no, she's not into that. I wish. When I get sent to the surface, they give me a folder on the target and a time limit they expect me to accomplish the hit in and if I'm not back at the door by the end of that, they yank me back down. Why do they yank? Because it hurts and they can. The reason why this is considered the top of the damned chain is that there's a certain level of freedom involved. As long as I get the hit done and get back to the door, the rest of the time is my own. After being in a flaming cell for a few decades, The Offer looks glorious. There are strings, of course, no deal could exist without them. But even the strings looked like a life-line. You know what they say about strings, though. They're just long enough to hang yourself with.

I was up topside doing a job. Or rather, waiting to start a job, so I was doing my usual stuff. Walking through parks, listening to birds, and there was no way that I was in a sleazy strip club shoving ones into Candy's thong. Anyway, this guy approached me. He looked like either a bouncer or a mobster's lemming so I was surprised when he seemed to have a brain.

"I've seen you around town before."

"But I haven't been here before. I'm just visiting a friend of mine."

"Got a name?" By this point, I was just hoping he wasn't coming onto me because he really wasn't my type. It's not that he didn't have boobs; I just prefer them on women. Weird, I know.

"Terrance. You?" It's not, though.

"Hey, Terry, I'm Mike." It wasn't, though, but that's not important. "I was just concerned because after I see you around, some bad shit starts going down."

Awesome. An observant muscle-head. A new species? "Really? That's an odd coincidence."

"I would agree with the coincidence part if you weren't packing."

"You're good, but I'm also a part-time body guard with a permit for a concealed weapon. If you'd like to see it, I'm willing to show you." At that point I slipped a hundred into Candy's bra with a wink and a nod and she nodded back. And don't glare at me. Multi-tasking is important. Back to Muscle-head Mike.

"I believe you, for some reason."

I actually did have a magic piece of paper that would've looked like a permit if he had insisted. "So, tell me about this shit going down. Any places I should avoid?"

And he started telling me about shootings and crashed charity dinners and a bombing, only one of which was my fault, by the way. But then Candy came over to bring me into the back since she was finished dancing.

"Sorry, man, but I got to take this." I said, though Mike's sigh in response was a mystery.

"Yeah, whatever."

So, I tried to make it look like Candy was dragging me into the back, but she wasn't. I gave her another hundred and asked her to stay in the back for at least twenty minutes before I... kissed her and escaped through a window, since I knew Mike was at the back door.

Since I didn't know what else to do, I went back to my motel and went to sleep, trying to decide how to do the hit. They had to be different so they wouldn't be connected. The people had nothing in common, since they had yet to achieve what goodness they would've been known for. I didn't have anything against them. Work is work.

All right, so I didn't meet her that time. But it's "Mike's" fault I met her. His real name was Ryan and he's a private investigator. He was hired to investigate the death of a woman I had killed. If she had lived, she would've played the markets until she was a billionaire and then divided it all into various charities, saving countless lives. Though I had left no concrete evidence at the scene, I failed in making it look like something random or accidental. Foul-play was the only logical conclusion. I had been punished for that. The pitchfork stereotype is untrue but that doesn't mean the demons won't use them just for a change of pace. Not my point. Whenever I would do hits in that area, he would find me somehow. Mostly at the club, *cough*, I mean park. Sometimes he had a partner with him, who he called Brutus, but his real name was Carl. I honestly don't know why they bothered with the fake names. It's not like I would see them around town with their families or anything. Sorry, I'll get back to the point. You wanted to know about the woman.

It was over a year until I had a hit in that area again. Ryan met me at the club, which was about the time when I guessed Candy was an informant. Too bad, I really liked her. At the time, I had thought he was on a date or something because he had a girl with him.

"So, what's you damned deal, Terry? "Mike" ruined our evening to come and talk to your stupid self." Sass was something she wasn't short on.

"What do you mean? A single guy can't come to a club without getting the third degree?" If it was a date, I was ready to be understanding, mostly because her sass turned my crank.

"All guys that come here are pervs and low-lifes."

"What about your boyfriend? He's a perv?" I laughed then, just to watch her eyes stab me.

"He's my stupid brother who I almost never see. Why'd he want to talk to you as soon as you hit town? You some sort of bad dude? Because you sure don't look it."

Ryan was standing there watching the scene. "You let your baby sis do all the talking for ya, big guy?"

He chuckled, "She does well enough. Answer her before she kicks you. You'll regret it if you don't."

"Fine. He thinks I bring trouble but I'm in town for an interview, that's all."

"Not visiting your friend like before?"

"Nope, he moved. But he said this was a good place to settle so I took an interview offer seriously that I might not have otherwise."

Her spice, which had mellowed, was back. "So, why come to this place?"

"I was nervous. Trying to unwind a bit. But, if you'd rather, I could take you out to dinner instead." Wow. Had that come out of my mouth?

"Dude." Muscle-head didn't get it either.

"Whoa. Why the hell would I go out with you? You perv." Spitfire looked disgusted.

"Hey, lady, you don't know me. I could be a stand up guy for all you know."

"My name is not lady, it's Rindae. And that is something you should have asked before you asked me out."

"But..."

"Come on, "Mike." This loser isn't worth your time. He's probably harmless."

They left and suddenly I wasn't in the mood for Candy anymore. Weird.

Before doing the job I was in town for, I bought some high tech bugs and bugged Ryan's home, car, and office. I didn't want him following me to any of my future jobs. No need to confirm any of his nagging suspicions. I was tempted to bug Rindae's stuff too, but I restrained myself. She'd be back.

Or, maybe she wouldn't. Either way, it was a few more months until I had another errand in that part of the world. My friend this time was named Lola, but of course, that's not the point. "Mike" found me, as usual, but I knew when and where he was coming from, since he still hadn't found the bugs.

"Your sis not like me or something?"

"Speaking of my sis, dude, why did you ask her out?"

"That is an excellent question that I really would answer if I knew the answer myself."

Scoffing at me, he muttered, "Ya know, for some reason, I believe you."

"I wish I still thought it was funny. But that's not why you're here, is it? You still think I'm some sort of criminal catalyst."

"No, Ter, I think you're just a regular criminal like all the rest."

I paused for a moment, considering Lola and my next best move. There was no good move so I went with the one that was safest for "Mike" since the pitchfork gang would consider him collateral damage. "Is this such a boring town that all visitors are considered suspect of something illegal?"

"Of course not. Like I said the first time we met, it was all about the timing of your visits to our glorious city that raised concerns." His phone rang, which delighted me because he answered it and stopped asking me stupid questions. "Hello? Yeah? Uh-huh. Yeah. I know I said that. We will. I'm meeting with that guy again. Ri. No no no no, Ri, don't come here. Damnit." He glared at me for some reason before murmuring to himself and ordering a drink from a passing waitress.

"Sticking around, eh?"

Grumbling some more, he spat, "I have to wait for Ri now. She had time for me and she's nearby. If you ask her out again, I will punch your liver, if you haven't drunk it away yet."

"Noted."

Fractured Reflections

Go over there.

No.

You want to.

And your point is?

Just go.

Never.

Fine. Read and go to sleep like you always do. See what happiness it brings you.

I know it brings none. I'm not an idiot. But it would never work. People don't appreciate that we're a bit of an enigma.

Yeah. So?

Stop talking to me.

She looked in the mirror, blinked, and turned off the light.

\- - -

Mirror, mirror, tell me true,

How can I be me and you?

Why must I be one at all?

Why must I choose which does fall?

\- - -

"You should've been there last night. Rob was asking about you."

She couldn't decide what tone was dominating Daisy's voice. "I felt sick."

A sigh on the other end of the phone preceded "Quit the lies. You're fine."

"Don't pretend you know me."

"Sorry. You're right. I don't."

But she does know you.

After saying goodbye, they hung up.

She knows you're afraid, she just doesn't know why.

Good.

Stupid woman.

Maybe.

She looked at the phone but did not see it. A few minutes later, she stuck her tongue out at it and walked over to her bed. Climbing in was an appealing idea, though an impractical one. The rent would not pay itself. Too bad. Grabbing her camera, she left the apartment and hoped for a lucky day.

\- - -

A choice less heavy than life or death,

But not one lacking in some depth.

So, why is it so hard to see,

What the choice is going to be?

\- - -

The phone is ringing.

Sure is.

You'll have to answer it sometime.

Perhaps.

Who is it that you're really afraid of? You'll never be safe from yourself.

Stating the obvious again?

Why shouldn't I? You do it all the time.

For all the good it's done me, eh?

And you refuse to remember what I'm trying to protect you from.

You can't protect me. You're just a shadow.

\- - -

A door or a window,

Escape if you can,

The shadows will find you,

And reach for your hand.

\- - -

Someone was knocking on her door. The only question was, why?

Maybe if I'm quiet they'll go away. They'll think I'm not here.

You know it's her. And she won't. She's known you too long to fall for that trick.

The knocking hesitated for a few moments, giving brief hope, only to restart in a seemingly inevitable way.

She's not going anywhere.

Damn.

She'll start yelling soon. Do you want her to make a scene?

If I say I don't know her, they'll believe me, right?

Wrong. You have a young version of her face. Everyone who's met you both knows you're related somehow.

Damn.

"Sweetie, please let me in. I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't mean for that to happen before when that... thing happened. Please, Triste. Just listen to what I have to say."

"Mother, dearest, you left me for dead. So, please forgive me if I have no desire to see you. And no reason to believe you're actually sorry. Go away."

She's crying.

She's faking it.

And if she's not?

Who cares?

What if she did mean it?

She didn't.

So you say. But you've been wrong before. You were wrong about that other woman. The one with the flowing hair. Aimee.

How dare you speak of her.

And how dare you not. She was everything to us.

Everything and nothing.

Sometimes nothing can be everything.

Not when you have everything to lose.

We need to stop trying to be philosophers.

From somewhere, a disembodied giggle echoed.

\- - -

Tears rain down,

And sorrow reigns,

Till the shadow,

Is cast into the sun.

\- - -

Why does the sun have to be so bright? It makes all the pictures look weird.

After wandering around for over an hour trying to find a decent place to take pictures, she'd had enough. She sat down on a park bench and glared at the clear sky. Such intense light killed all the subtlety her pictures were famous for. Other people could find beauty in the light; she would keep trying to show everyone the beauty hidden in shadows.

I don't want to go back yet.

But you have no love for the light of day.

Doesn't everyone say that sunlight is good for the soul?

You don't care what everyone says.

True. But a few more minutes won't hurt me.

Maybe you'll get sunburned.

Pain is nothing. Besides, without pain, happiness can't truly be appreciated.

And how would you know?

Her hands brushed over the contours of the camera. It was obviously high-end and was the most expensive thing she owned. When it stayed at the apartment, it was kept in a nondescript bag with all the other things vital to her existence. Though selling her pictures paid the rent and bought food, that isn't what made the camera valuable. The fancy object that kept her alive was, ironically, a gift from Aimee. Perhaps it was her last effort to keep her alive. It was possible that she knew she would have to leave and so she left a token, a reminder of her presence. And, unsurprisingly, the first picture Triste had taken had been of her, with her long hair dancing on a breeze. Sometimes she considered throwing it into a pond or lake just to get it away from her. She had never been capable of doing that. Besides, she needed it to live. The last couple years she had tried to find her but no clue had substance and no memory had helped. There was no possible way to guess where she might have gone.

\- - -

Lost in a void,

Regret echoes 'round,

Though she looks for her heart,

It is not to be found.

\- - -

She couldn't see anything when she opened her eyes. There was no way to know what had forced her to consciousness. Like always, she couldn't fall back to sleep right away. Sleep was an easy out. It helped muffle the memories. Not all nightmares had to be remembered. After reflecting on why sleep was the most appealing thing in her life, she began to drag herself down memory lane. She was terrified to forget what had happened with Aimee. Her face was engraved in her mind. Maybe she had earned this pain by treating her mother so poorly.

Do you remember what she said? As long as you think you deserve only pain tonight.

Aimee said that she'd do anything for me. That she loved me. That it was her sole desire to keep me safe.

And what happened?

She couldn't protect me. Then she left.

Did she try to?

Yes. But she couldn't deal with it. When she failed to help me, she had to leave.

Her love was true, whatever kind of love it was.

So you say.

You know the truth.

I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Go back to sleep then.

\- - -

I sleep to escape,

From everything.

I hope my dreams,

Do not take wing.

\- - -

She's back.

A groan could be heard. Long and seemingly painful.

Don't fool yourself. You knew she wasn't going to let us be.

An obnoxious series of knocks echoed through the room.

"Triste, open the door."

She had never wanted to hear that man's voice again.

Not good. Get out.

"What do you want?"

Don't talk to him, you idiot!

What if he actually has something worth hearing?

He never has before.

But we haven't talked to him in almost four years.

"I want to talk to you. Even just see you. That'd be enough."

His tone made her hands twitch. "I don't want to see you. Go away."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"How did you even find me?"

"Your mom told me."

Damn her. She really wasn't sorry.

But we already knew that.

I know. I just didn't want to move again.

The fire escape.

His knocking refused to stop. She could imagine him pounding on her rather than the thick wooden door. Tears leaked from somewhere.

"I'll call the police."

"No, you won't."

Run away.

Yeah, we'd better. We'll talk to the landlord tomorrow.

I wish we didn't have to.

Me neither.

The knocking picked up another notch.

Grab the bag. It's time to go.

\- - -

The monster in the closet,

A specter of night,

Sometimes they are real,

And you must fight for your life.

\- - -

What if he knew where she is? We've been trying to figure out for so long.

How would he know?

He has access to resources that we don't.

He doesn't care if we find her. It's nothing to him. He'd probably prefer if we didn't find her. Maybe he thinks if we don't then we'll go back to where he is.

And Mom?

After telling him exactly where to find us, I won't forgive her. All I wanted was to be safe. But apparently that doesn't matter to her.

Maybe --

Don't bother trying to defend her. We both know she's crossed too many lines to be trusted anymore. She doesn't have our cell phone number so she can't call us or give our number to that man. If we feel like it, we could call her from a payphone in few weeks.

Yeah, that's true enough. And we definitely can't tell her where we live now. It's good that our landlord owned another building and felt mercy toward us. He even helped us pack. Wasn't that nice?

I think it's a bad sign if we're surprised when someone's nice to us.

He doesn't even know I'm here and he was still nice.

Why should he differentiate? We are the same person; we're just comfortable talking to ourselves. An act that most people would consider crazy.

If he knew I was here, he wouldn't be nice to you anymore. He'd run away, just like everyone else.

We don't need them. We never have needed them. We do fine on our own.

Sure we do. Until that man comes and we have absolutely no one to call for help. All we could do was run away and hope he didn't catch us.

Can we not think about him? That could've been worse than what happened before when my family fell apart. He sounded so mad right before we ran...

Ok. We're not going to think about it anymore. Let's just try to sleep some more.

Music enfolded her and she focused on it so she could ignore her own thoughts.

\- - -

Drowning in darkness,

Always betrayed,

And everyone wonders,

Why she's always afraid.

\- - -

Find someone. Do something.

I don't want to.

You never do.

You make it sound like I enjoy being this way. I don't. I never have.

And yet you've never tried to change.

I can't.

You won't.

Same difference.

Call someone. Go somewhere.

No.

Do it.

I can't.

Go!

She started pacing.

What are you waiting for? Do you want to die alone?

"Shut up!"

A silence fell around and within her.

What good could come of it? It wouldn't change anything. But maybe she's right. What if she's not? What do we have to lose?

"Hey, Daisy. You busy tonight?"

"I'm going to Rob's place. He's throwing a party."

"Can I come with?"

There was the briefest of pauses before she replied, "Sure, I'll give you directions."

\- - -

Open a window,

Breathe in the air,

After long stifled years,

She can start to care.

\- - -

She was walking by the waterfall, pausing every once in a while to take a picture. It was another sunny day but she didn't mind. The years of isolation still made her cautious of crowds, which is why she chose to photograph the waterfall and the surrounding area on a colder day. After being there for a few hours, she decided to head home. Climbing the stairs away from the falls, she thought she felt her phone vibrate but she ignored it and kept going. Exhausted at the top of the stairs, she collapsed on a bench. Though she didn't believe that anyone worth talking to would call her, she checked her phone. She felt her face twist in odd ways when she saw that she had a new text message from an unknown number. Skimming the contents, she hesitated before closing her phone and reread it.

It can't be.

But it sounds like her.

What are you going to reply with?

She read it again.

" **Hey, Triste. I miss you. Will you meet me where we met before? If you will, be sure to bring your purple galoshes."**

A decision was far from her, so she closed the phone to give herself time to think.

\- - -

Hide and seek,

Seek and find,

That nothing's wrong,

With your mind.

\- - -

You have to answer it.

I know I do, but I don't know what to say. It's my fault she left.

But she's back. She misses you.

So she says.

So she does.

What changed? Why did she come back now after I've been wallowing in bitterness for years?

Don't exaggerate, you melodramatic, self-absorbed --

Hey! I get it. I know.

Maybe she needs us as much as we need her.

Maybe.

Her phone vibrated then and after jumping half way out of her chair, she relaxed enough to sit back down. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she flipped it open to reveal the same text she'd gotten yesterday with a short something added on.

" **Please at least let me know you're alive."**

You have to say something.

I am. Relax. **"I'll bring my purple galoshes if you bring your rainbow umbrella."**

It was a few hours until there was any reply. **"Do you still have your parrot? I'll see you Saturday at 5."**

" **My parrot is as colorful as ever. I'll see you then, mon Aimee."**

\- - -

The wait was so long,

And the road was so hard.

There's no way to know,

What's on Fate's next card.

\- - -

You know, this is actually oddly fun for me. For one time in your existence, you're actually more nervous than I am. Just stop using my muscles to do your twitching.

I'm glad you're enjoying this. Aren't you the one whose supposed to be cynical, asking me what all could go wrong?

I could, I suppose, but I don't see the necessity. Would it make you feel better if I did?

Maybe.

Too bad. Now, be quiet. I have to finish doing my hair.

You act like all this fussing is going to change something. She still left.

No one should be expected to deal with that. He could've hurt her too. She had to leave.

Now she's back and you're going for the cutesy sundress with curls look? What makes you think...

Shut up. We have to leave or we'll be late.

She walked down the stairs and outside her apartment building, heading for the bus stop that was three blocks away. The wait was blissfully short. Though she wasn't afraid to go, her hands still twitched and her legs were reluctant. Sitting on a bus full of strangers had always made her a bit apprehensive, but this trip was worth it. After riding buses all around town for an hour or so, she finally got to where she was going. It was a tiny beach that no one really knew about. In reality, the sand of the beach was more like gravel. Thankfully the water was as clear and blue as it always had been. A huge umbrella with swirled rainbows on it stood halfway between the road and the water. Aimee had apparently gone for the "cutesy sundress" look as well, which probably comforted both of them. They still thought alike. As Triste walked over to her, as opposed to the running she wanted to do, Aimee moved toward her. Both of them smiled at the other and sat down under the umbrella, watching the waves.

Singing in Limbo

It seemed as though she was the only person on the planet. She was calmly sitting on that rock in the middle of the ocean, singing. What affects her song had on the world was not her concern. The girl sang not for the world, but because if she stopped singing it would hurt her heart. Her song expressed things that could not otherwise be said. Loneliness, betrayal, and love were just few of the many things that had put her on that rock. Her story is hard to tell, for few must suffer as she has. At the end of your life, she will sing for you, as she does for everyone, and may you be better for it.

There was once a young girl who loved a man. Her love was so deep that she would do anything for him. When the day finally came that she confessed her love to him, he laughed and the girl knew pain. In that pain, she began to sleep, waking for only hours at a time during which she refused food and water. As she wasted away, her family feared for her and when they could bear it no longer, they sent for a doctor. He said that she was heart-sick and had to be sent far from the man. Despite her tired objections, her family packed her bags and sent her with the doctor to live with his sister by the ocean. There she was forced to eat, drink, and sit outdoors by the water. Over time, she slept a little less, walked a little more, and after a few years, she could smile. Not often, mind you, but every once and a while, she could be caught with a tentative smile playing about her lips. This allusive smile was, more often than not, provoked by the antics of a young man who was a friend and neighbor to the doctor's sister. He came over often to help around the house and to visit with the fragile young woman. In his company, she began to get close to well, often going out for walks along the ocean, singing, listening to the waves crash against the shore. There was a time when the man came to the house to visit and was told she was out walking. Curious, he went to seek her out. When he caught sight of her on that beach, singing, her hair blowing softly in the wind, it was then that he knew his love for her. In that same moment, something called to him, forbidding him to speak of it. Confusion filled him but he went on as he always had, visiting, helping at the house, talking as though nothing had changed. She knew nothing of it except for when she looked deep into his eyes and saw his raging feeling. Of course, she refused to speak of it, afraid to earn his dislike or make him in any way uncomfortable. Over time, they grew quite close. Years passed and things never changed. His family began to pressure him to wed and still he never spoke of his love for her. It pained her to look into his eyes because they burned with a passionate love that she felt she had not earned. Then, one day, she told him in passing that his family was right about his needing to be wed. Upon hearing this, he gazed deeply into her eyes, to search for a hope, a glimmer, but no, her eyes could not express love. The pain covered the love. So, he wed. And from that day on, she knew great pain, a pain deeper than she knew possible. She knew that she loved him and to see him with his new young wife caused the pain to run deeper into herself. When she spoke to him, she smiled and said all the right things and yet, she cried inside. He couldn't see the love in her eyes. And so, life went on in this way. But, unlike the last time she felt the pain, she did not shut down, she refused to let the heart-sickness take her over. Or at least, she refused to let others see it. She would take her walks and talk to her friends, her life was not empty. It was her heart that was empty. When she would sing on the beach, as she had many times, her song just sounded a little sadder. As they have a way of doing, years passed. The young woman aged slowly but she became weaker. She was less prone to take her walks or seek out her friends. Conversations with her were rare. There were days when she wouldn't get out of bed, and then days where she couldn't. Then there was the day when she didn't wake up. No one knew why or how.

In the end, she couldn't go to heaven because her song was too sad for the souls there so she went to limbo. And still she is there, singing the song of love and heartbreak. She will sing your burdens from you, take them upon herself, and in that way, your eternity can be a bit lighter.

Bittersweet Requiem

It had just begun to rain, the hard drops pounding his car. And then he saw her. She was walking. To where and why, he had no clue, but something in her face made him give her a second glance. Surely she was no stunning beauty, that's not what made him pull over his car without thought. He didn't know what he was going to say when the window finished rolling down, and then suddenly he did.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere?"

"No, thank you."

Her tone was low, her voice curious, and her face full of distrust.

"I'm sorry to have startled you. But I have a question before I drive away, ok?"

She waited patiently for him to form the words.

"I think a lot can be told about a person by their answer to this question. Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I believe one could love a puppy at first sight, but this is not the love you ask about. Human love, so I've heard, is much more complex than that." Then she smiled such a bittersweet smile.

"That is the most unique answer I've ever gotten."

"So glad I didn't disappoint."

"Don't you love your family?"

"You said you only had one question but I'll answer regardless --the question was not about family love. It was about true love."

"I never said that."

"Not with words. It was your face, your tone. It was in your eyes."

With that, she walked away. He tried to call out to her, but his voice would not be forced. Pausing for a moment, he realized she was right. Truly complex emotion, as complex as she. The rain slowed as he started to drive again. They would meet another day.

\- - -

He checked his phone to see who was still trying to get in touch with him. Soon after, he dismissed the information. Why they bothered after all this time, he didn't know. Maybe he should change his phone number.

It had taken him a long time to figure it out, but he had realized that he needed no one. They didn't want to understand. Last time was the very last chance he was willing to take. A beep startled him. Someone left a voicemail. If he had to guess, he'd say it was his mother. Worried was what she often said she was, even though he knew better.

"Ah, Mother, always trying to keep up appearances," he muttered.

As for him, he was done with those petty games. His brother and sister would have to be puppets enough for her. They enjoyed the games well enough, which is the only reason his sister called every so often. Young as she was, she wanted puppets so she could be just like her mother. He began to pace. To think that they honestly believed he could be played, that he would allow it, that they would be able to trap him in that world by marriage to someone they chose. It was laughable! Sometimes, back at that place, it had felt as though he lived in the Victorian age. All his family cared about was social status, property, and wealth. How delusional he must've been not to see their chess pieces move, everyone vying for the checkmate. Fortunately, he had snapped out of it in time to free himself; he had left his gilded cage so he would have some chance of happiness. A box on the street would be preferable to that house of social horrors. How he wished they would give up so he could forget them.

No matter how fast or how much he paced, he couldn't find satisfaction. He kept turning the music on and off, fiddling with the volume when it was on. As he moved, he jumped at the slightest noise. It would be perfectly natural if she knocked on his door. Granted his nerves would probably have him twitched into next week if that actually happened, as illogical as the whole concept was. She didn't know his name, and he had no way of finding her. And yet, that was okay, too. No one had ever lit his curiosity on fire before; his apathy had known no bounds. Exhaustion was overtaking him. Thankfully, minutes later, it started to rain.

\- - -

He was dodging raindrops when he finally saw her again.

"Wait! Stop! I've been looking for you!"

She paused, perhaps hoping he'd say something else. But his brain had frozen.

"People seek things, such is life."

"Why?" His body felt so full of mixed emotions.

"It's human nature."

"And if they can't find anything?"

"Then it finds them." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"How do you know?"

"I don't."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't it? Everything and everyone in the world is lost. Eventually something must be found."

"What I've found thus far isn't what I've wanted."

Quietly, she sighed. "Of course not. Things change, you change."

"True."

"But it's been what you've needed."

"Who needs pain?"

"Everyone."

Silence fell between them.

All around, the rain slowed, and as it did, he wiped it from her cheeks. Without consulting the rest of him, his feet turned so he could walk away. As they moved, he marveled at how calm he was. Then he remembered something. Turning, he saw her back as she drifted away in the other direction.

"I forgot to ask your name! Tell me!"

"Shay!"

\- - -

That conversation kept sneaking back into his thought, despite how many times he banished it. What had possessed him to touch her like that? At least she hadn't slapped him, not that he would've blamed her. Actually, he was surprised that she hadn't. He laughed quietly at that moment locked in time. Whatever had happened to her that made her reactions so unpredictable, he was happy for. Guilt stepped on him then. The agony that had crept into her voice toward the end of that conversation was no laughing matter.

\- - -

"Shay?"

"Hey, question man."

"I wonder if it will always be raining when we meet."

"The sun has to shine sometime."

"Why does the sun make you sad?"

"I never said that."

He laughed quietly while choosing his response. "It was in your tone. In your eyes."

After a few moments she muttered, "I suppose it would be, wouldn't it?"

"Don't worry. I still don't understand you."

"And why would that worry me?"

Her icy eyes compelled him to back-pedal, even though they both saw the lie. "I'm not sure."

A comfortable silence fell between them. Shay seemed reluctant to make eye contact, and so he waited, knowing it was her move. So they stood in silence, he hoped she would decide soon. Some nice cars driving past caught his attention. When he looked back, her face was bold. Their eyes met and there was no way for him to know what she saw, though he desperately wished to. All he saw was the beautiful color of her eyes and their depth. But he could not see her soul as he had others. He wasn't worried about that, though; it only proved that which he already knew. To get to know her, understand her, would take time, not to mention her cooperation. Just because he felt like he knew her, had noticed some of her habits, didn't mean anything. If he knew anything, it was only that she had the same fear as him, the fear of getting close enough to understand and be understood. To his frustration, despite his fears, his curiosity would not be deterred.

Content with whatever it was that she saw, she sighed, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "You are afraid of being perceptive. How interesting."

He battled the impulse to smile at the expression on her face. "Ah, the things you accuse me of."

"I may be wrong, but I doubt it."

"Are you always right?"

"No, of course not. But if I'm right, you should trust your perception. It can teach you things that no one would ever tell you."

"You sound like a bad fortune cookie."

Laughing again, she waved as she moved to walk away.

He groaned, "Now you made me hungry!"

With that, they went their separate ways.

\- - -

She was right, of course, but he'd never tell her that. Had he trusted his perceptive abilities, that woman never would have been able to trick him. Yes, their mothers had introduced them, but the levels upon levels of ulterior motives had blown it to pieces. The worst part of it? His idiotic self still loved her. And there was nothing he could do about it. No matter how much he wanted to hate her, even though he knew she had never loved him, it changed nothing. Every single person he had trusted had betrayed him; friends, family, everyone. This way, he had a chance for a new start, but regardless of how disrespectful his family had been to him, he couldn't cut them out without guilt. That was the only reason he kept the same phone number. Now, on the other hand, if that woman called him, he might answer. After that fiasco at their engagement party, he wanted her explanation. But she would never be sorry and her pride made her think he deserved no rationalizations. As painful as that entire memory was, he was glad the toxic people were gone from his life.

\- - -

"Hi, there."

"Did you ever find your fortune cookie?"

He smirked, "You're here now. What's my fortune for today?"

"Give me a few minutes and I'll tell you."

"Okay. Great weather we're having lately."

"I suppose." Lightning slashed through the clouds.

"You're right. This storm is pretty weak."

With the way the rain was falling, it made everyone without an umbrella look like they were crying. Maybe that was the appeal. Granted, if you didn't like the rain, this was a bad place to live.

"The rain soothes your soul the way nothing else can."

"You're speaking for both of us when you say that."

As she laughed, he was thrilled at his ability to bring laughter to someone so unlike himself. Someone that deserved laughter and joy. A kind of person that he'd never met, that he might never meet again. Sadness filled him at that thought.

"Something just happened behind your eyes," she stated as her own probed him. "Tell me."

"I thought we never mentioned details. If I'm mistaken, I'd know more about you."

"You're right. It's better this way."

He groaned internally. "Better for whom?"

"You. Of course."

That put the smirk back on his face. "Just keeping telling yourself that, fortune cookie."

Her eyes rolled, seemingly of their own volition, though the laugh that followed was forced.

At that moment, the wind whipped her long hair around and slapped him in the face.

"Ow."

"Sorry," she muttered, trying to tame her now unruly hair. After she had it mostly tied down, he tucked that which was free behind her ear. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought she blushed.

Their eyes locked, unlocked, and then they both left.

\- - -

"Hello again."

Her low voice near his ear startled him. For a few moments he thought he had imagined it. He had to check. Sure enough, she was standing right behind him, her tentative bittersweet smile almost as bright in his view as the sun shining behind her.

"Hi, Shay."

Something in her face was different, or the way she carried herself, something; he couldn't place it. As he pondered, she spoke again. "No questions for me this time?"

"Only one."

Silence roared between them.

"What took you so long?"

Laughter spilled from her as it suddenly started down pouring.

About the Author

Angela is a simple woman who lives to write and sleep and adventure.

Please send in your votes for which story should be completed to wandering07ak@gmail.com and the final tally will be taken 07.09.14. Thank you for your time, effort, and whatever appreciation you have for the author's works.

Please enjoy a sneak peek of Angela Koeller's published novella, Forsaken.

Forsaken

Chapter One

Could it be that one such as I could walk this path and not feel the pains of hate and destruction? At the time, I suppose that was true. I could not feel pain. I could not speak. I could not even laugh or cry. I was locked inside myself and there was little I could do about it. By now, I am sure, you have gotten lost in my words, your mind saying, "Back up stranger, for I do not even know your name." All in good time, my friend.

In the beginning there was darkness and her pain. Movement was restricted but I did not care and moved as I wished, though the very surface around me punished my body. The beginning of the end gave me light and hope but it was all a lie. My destiny, it seemed, had been decided long before my birth and a happy ending was to become a foreign concept to me, though only God and the Devil knew the truth of it. Others look at my existence and tell me that it could have been worse but I just turn my gaze upon them and they quickly swallow their words. To many, my life itself was a game, played amongst the immortals as they took turns trying to manipulate my fate, for it would be too late when they realized that I was far from being a toy. I never had a real father or mother; a story was told of an angel and demon that fell in love and their child was passed to anyone who would take her. Love was never an option because I was their cursed child. Half evil and half angelic was not a good mix, or so I was told. At my birth I was banished from both Heaven and Hell because I could not serve either. Everlasting life was a useless thing when no one would have anything to do with me. I knew little of this at the time and was only told the rest after my destiny had been revealed; for good or evil, no one knew my purpose nor did anyone care to discover it for fear of being banished as I was. Thus my life began.

Death came with his scythe and named me, for none challenged his authority on the matter. I was given the name Amara, which meant eternal and it was accurate. He could not suffer more than he had already, which is why he dealt with me on that occasion. In at least one way Death was similar to me; he could never die but he also could never truly live. As the first to acknowledge me as a living creature, he is the one who passed me to the first mortal that tried to raise me. His choices were limited because few would take one such as me. She had been blind since birth and was alone in the world. It was she who taught me of kindness and love. Even now I hear a soft voice in my head, singing quietly and telling me stories about her life or how she thought I would live once I grew up. To her, I was perfect and could do no wrong. I was her angel and she was my mother and that was the way it would always be. My innocence led me to believe that was the complete truth until the day my world fell apart.

The sun had just risen and I was fetching water for the morning meal. Birds flew all around me, trilling their songs of joy and hope, the sky above me was a passive blue, and warm sunlight danced on my skin. A light breeze brushed hair from my face as I walked toward the well. I heard footsteps and turned to greet their owner. Screaming, a young man ran the short distance to the house where he found my mother and spoke in quick, urgent tones to her. He pointed to me, said something else, and made the sign of the cross. My mother gazed emptily at him until he subsided and noticed she could not see. Confusion filled me as I watched them and I could not understand what made the man so upset. Frustrated and terrified, the man disappeared back the way he had come. Once we were back in the house, she stood me in front of her, and 'looked' at me. Starting at the top of my head, one hand looking at each side, she first felt the nub on the left side of my head that would be a full-grown horn someday, and the cool heat on my right side from half of a halo. My hair was two different colors with distinctive textures as well; on the demon half there was the darkest black with a dry-to-the-touch feeling and on the angel half was brilliant blonde hair that was as soft as the finest silk. Her hands moved to my face, touching skin that had the same qualities as my locks. What she could not tell were the colors. The left side was a deep tan and on the right it was almost as white as alabaster. All who have seen me have feared my eyes more than any other part; one as deep blue as the ocean on a calm day but the other as bright red as the fires of Hell. Her hands traveled to my shoulders and then to my back, where she felt the wings that have always been there. I had yet to fly with them but one was black as a raven's wings and one as white as a swan's. Then, in a sudden movement, my mother, who was crying from her clouded eyes, was hugging me tightly. It was then she told me that we could not stay as we were forever. We were bonded heart to heart but if we stayed together physically one of us would break and she could not let this happen. There was only one way to save us; I would have to go away and someone else would care for me. Staring at her blankly, I wondered what she could possibly mean, she was my mother and she would always take care of me. Releasing me, she went in the kitchen and came back with a knife. Leading me to the garden, she asked me to find the nightshade flower that grew there. I led her toward it and we knelt when I indicated we had reached it. Taking my hand, she steadied the knife in the one that was not holding mine. Before I could stop her, she had made a light cut in both mine and her own palm. Serenely, she told me to hold them over the nightshade as glistening blood dripped on to the flower of death. Behind us, a step was heard but neither of us turned as I was gazing at my mother while she looked blankly at the source of her pain. No pain flowed through me because if I could feel it, the pain of my halves would have driven me to insanity.

What my mother had done was called Death, the only immortal that had tarried in my affairs, so she could speak with him. Tearfully, she explained that she could no longer keep me safe from mortal eyes and that the next step of my life was to begin early. Speaking not only to Death, but to me as well, she said she loved me more than my real mother ever would and that she hoped to see me again in the afterlife. Death told her that he would return for me on my twelfth birthday and take me to my new home but my mother was to cope until then. He reminded her that I could not die completely, feel pain, or even speak. Incriminating myself was not an option and the villager that saw me before would not recognize me if I was shrouded in cloths or hidden in the house, unless he saw my eyes. Gently, he led me to the creek that ran through our garden and together we looked at our reflections. Then he explained that my appearance appalled mortals but my eyes horrified them; none knew very much about Heaven or Hell but my vision held both. Mortals feared what they did not understand and no being alive or dead could truly explain the reason that I was the way that I had always been. Theoretically, my two halves should have cancelled each other out and then I never would have existed. I nodded, for I comprehended the idea but one thing still confused me. Silently, because for me there was no other option, I pointed first to my mother and then to him. Death sighed softly and in quiet tones told me the tale of my parents that most children heard in their cradles. In their creation of a love child they had denied themselves their own existence. Standing together for their Judgment they had been given a choice, their free will or their child's life. He then compared me to himself in the fact that we could both just exist, for there was no other option; we had to live for those who tried to drive us away. Duty and destiny were strong calls that we could not ignore.

Suddenly, he was gone as if he had never come. I sat among the fragrant flowers thinking of all I had learned while my mother continued to cry a small distance from me. She was still my mother, for I had known no other, and I loved her even though we were not blood related. Wait, I thought to myself, perhaps we are. In her calling of Death our blood had mingled, forever binding us. Content in that thought, I rose, kissed my mother on the head, and led her back to our house. Our lives were changed, that could not be denied, but we continued to live in the pattern we had for years. I could never tell her I loved her, but I would not leave her until she knew. This I promised myself.

Life went on. We cared for our garden and were wary of the sound of strange footsteps. If we heard any, I was to run to the house and my mother was to act as if she never knew me. My birthday was fast approaching but we both ignored its coming. Never had I thought I would really be separated from my loving mother and she soon regretted her summoning of Death. Though our imminent parting saddened me, I could not bring myself to regret what she had done, for if she had not, we would not be blood-bound. Sometimes, when I went out for a while, I would come back and find her crying. When I touched her shoulder, she flinched, but would not tell me the reason for her tears, though I always knew. All I had ever known had changed and it was a bittersweet concept. I knew more of my true origin but I did not like the price I had to pay for that knowledge. Never had I disillusioned myself about my birth. In my heart I had always known that the loving person in my life was not my real mother. One such as I could not be born to a mere mortal and I knew nothing of the pain my mother experienced as she cared for me. As I look back on it now, I knew very little.

On my twelfth birthday, Death came for me as he had promised. He told me that to truly live, one must experience a great many things. Things I could not experience or learn from being where I was. I gazed at his hooded face, wishing I could cry. My mother had brushed her honey-blonde hair and put on her nicest linen dress to see me off; I clung to her. Internally I declared I would not leave even if Death tried to force me. Few would defy such a powerful being but I did not care because I loved her. Since I did not seek this change that was being thrust upon me, I could see no reason to even act willing about it. Stroking my hair, my mother and I listened as Death told us of my new home.

My caretaker was going to be an older man. He lived in a large house and was taking me as an apprentice. Wary of my origin, he had hesitated but would take me regardless. All who knew him admitted that he was a powerful wizard and many feared him, though he was also known as a gentle and kind man. At a pause in his narrative, Death asked that I go somewhere else for a time and because of my general distaste for him in that moment, I stormed away. Only two people know what happened in my absence, neither of which would divulge the information. Upon my return, my mother's countenance was calm and confident, yet her hands shook when she reached for my face. They molded to my skin as she desperately tried to memorize every inch of my face, every smooth and patchy bit of it. I did not mind. We would have stayed like that forever, had we been allowed to. A bird was startled into flight near us and my mother came back to herself. She held me at arm's length and stared at me with empty eyes. Her lips moved, though no sound emerged. There was a sudden flash and her vision was blue, not white, for a few moments. I received one more surprise after all of this occurred. Quietly my mother asked me for a long feather from each of my wings. More out of love than a desire to comply, I spread my wings and reached to pull out black and white pinions. Clutching the feathers in her hand, she touched my angel face, turned, and walked quickly back to the house. Hurt by this, I turned to Death, seeking answers he did not have. Taking two pieces of string from my pocket, tied one tightly around my demon hair, and the other around my angel hair. I wandered through the garden and found the knife my mother had dropped so long ago. Carefully, I cut about a thumb's length above each string. Without thought, I flicked my wings open and flew after my mother. Though at the time I did not seek to find her, my heart wished I would. Once I reached the house, I went to my mother's room and placed the hair on her pillow. After that, I turned around and left. A being cannot live on love alone, for their heart will always be stuck in the ever continuing cycle of finding love, being loved and losing love. My heart broke that day as I flew to Death's embrace, knowing everything had to change, that I did not want it to, and things would never be as they were before.

Please look forward to Ms. Koeller's upcoming works:

Half

Tempest in the Tower
