Compulsion

Give me your hand, your wrist;
Your trusting flesh under my own
Shaking grasp for the first time,
Wondering if you'll understand
That I still want to be your friend.
"You may not remember
What has happened here today."
My hopeful, alcoholic words filling out
The gaps in your weakened mind.

My spiral eyes in your conscious,
Gently caressing and brushing away
The surface thoughts to sweeten
Them with nothing but a dream.

My friend, my savior, my hope -
Could you even forgive me for
The monster you have released
From my ever-caged hunger
You have never believed in?
When my teeth, sharpened and
Bursting forth with anticipation
Finally grazed your sickly sweet,
Savory, necessary fluids?

My sanity slowly dripping away
Before your unbelieving sight,
My tongue pressed against
Your bloody, pulsing wrist.

"It will only sting for a moment."
My honeyed, silken words lean
Against your mental shields and
Soak through as a mist moving
Through a slightly cracked window.
The relief on your face tells me,
It will all be okay, in the end.
And I bite, and you don't scream,
The sting only for a brief moment.

My face contorted slightly,
Though you can not pinpoint how;
Or how to describe the dissonance
Of loving to lose so much blood.

Could the aftermath of such a
Mesmerizing, cathartic dance
Truly ruin what we once had?
I drink, until I no longer care.
The blood fills my near empty
Passages, veins filling with
Your softly singeing, tingling
Life essence until I am awake.
I see you on the ground, half dead.

"Well, aren't you a tough one?"
My voice rings out, cold and
Emotionless, conniving, with a
Disgusting clarity of tone.

I crouch down closer to your
Beautiful, cold features.
The marks tell a story of which
I no longer remember.
The snow begins to cover you.
I lift you up, wondering;
My friend, my savior, my hope -
Could you ever forgive me
For being half alive, forever?

Shapeshifter -Part IX-

Noon was sleepy and relaxed as I stretched my shoulders, still in my pajamas. I had fed Necro when he alerted me it was time, and drank from some of the best steaming hot apple cider. The autumn, fruity scent filled my heart with homely warmth and joy of the coming season. Narcissa's keys were gone from her tiny bowl, and I felt the sun from the window cascade over my back.

I cozied up in my knit, auburn sweater on my couch in my furry pajama pants, keeping the cool chill out, and resumed my favorite book from yesterday. Hungover-brain fogged my mind a bit but I was just getting to the good part. 

Hours slipped by quickly, and before I knew it I was pulling on my favorite jeans, trying not to fall on my face, scrambling out the door to go see Annabelle again at the bookshop.

I half-ran over to the bookstore, late by only a few minutes, the cool breeze chilling my warm face from rushing so hard. I could see my breath as the sun began to go down while I straightened myself up and pulled the door open.

My golden-haired, six foot friend stood in front of the counter, checking out some books. "Zeph?" I asked, my mouth wide. "When did you get back from Paris?" I smiled, walking up and hugging his soft frame tightly. 

"Just earlier today! It's so nice to be back." he smiled a gentle smile and straightened up his polo shirt. "And how are you doing?" 

"Good! I-" 

"Here to see me?" a melodic voice asked, as Belle strode up to us, silent as the calm before an impending storm.

"Belle! It's great to see you!" I squealed, hugging her a bit awkwardly. 

"This is Zeph, he's one of my best friends, he just got back from Paris!" 

"Oh, hello, I'm Annabelle. Have we met somewhere before?" she asked genuinely, shaking his hand firmly.

"Maybe in passing?" he scratched his head, giving an odd, questioning smirk.

"Eh, I don't know." Belle shrugged and turned to me, her olive skin looking so... soft… "I actually was wondering if you would take me to the local graveyard? I heard it's quite lovely at sun down."

"Well, don't let me spoil your fun." Zeph laughed and sat down at a nearby table with one of his tattered, ancient looking books. "Text me when you're done so we can catch up! And maybe the three of us can grab dinner, sometime." And he was lost to the rest of the universe into the deepest of fictional caverns.

"You know, we can absolutely catch up later. I won't be too long!" There was no response, just a silence left behind by my words going in one of his ears and out the other. I swore I could hear the wind rustling the bushes outside as the air became empty for a few moments.

I turned back to Belle. "Well, let's go then!" Without thinking I grabbed her by the wrist and away we went, back through the creaky, metal door and into the chilly autumn air. 

After the rush of chilled breeze I felt the warmth of her flannel jacket over her wrist and without skipping a beat, let go and felt my face heat up. We casually walked the old roads of Marblehead, the sidewalks crumbling and vines crawling up the sides of aged, crooked houses. I pulled her along by her arm occasionally, as she stopped to gape at our historic architecture.

"You are very new here, aren't you?" I asked with a smirk. "Are you impressed?"

She looked me up and down suggestively. "Absolutely." She reached out to take my waist. 

"Just wait until you see the gazebo." I turned before she could reach me and kept walking, knowingly up the winding roads, smirking along the way. What, am I seventeen again?

Finally we came to the steep, grassy hill with a set of stone stairs built into the side. The cemetery smelled of freshly cut grass, combined with dying leaves and an air of humidity. I could see why, as the sky filled with ashen, heavy clouds on our walk over. A single, cold rain drop touched my nose.

"Wow, this place looks ancient." Belle remarked, eyes wide at the steep mount of dirt, dotted with different ages of tombstones.

"It goes back to the seventeen-hundreds. There's a lot of history here." I said with pride. 

We marched up the smooth stone stairs, each gigantic step more tiring than the previous. As we came upon the halfway mark, we could see the wooden, cesious gazebo, the pointed roof towering above the old tombstones scattered in every direction. As we came upon the peak I shivered as the skies opened up above us, the cold rain drenching us completely. We ran up the grey stone path and onto the cement floor of the old structure.

"It wasn't supposed to rain today!" I nervously laughed, feeling the weight of my water-soaked braids coolly dripping all over me. A freezing chill rolled down my spine. I took off my icy sweater and laid it on the bench next to me, where I sat on the dry, old wood. I looked out at the misty, showering rain, which coated the tombstones darker and the ground with a richness I had seen so many times before. But this time was so… different. In my gut was a sense of profound, universal, almost magical timing. 

"Well, I suppose we're stuck here now, aren't we?" Belle remarked, sitting right next to me.

I looked from her over to the carvings myriads of people had made into the layers of paint upon the wooden support beams of the gazebo. Wow... Last time I was here... The memories left a dull wrench in my gut, reminding me of the last time I saw them, their perfectly picked outfit for our anniversary, and their eternally dark eyes filled with regret and anguish while I broke off our engagement. 

"I know you like me, a lot... But I'm not sure I can do this." I stood up, taking away my arm from touching Belle's, and breathed in deeply. I couldn't stop looking at the carvings I had made with my first love so many years ago on the beam standing right over me. Jagged hearts scarred the paint, and gave me an itch within my chest that I couldn't quite scratch away with my untrimmed nails; A reminder of all the time I had given up to the pursuit of love.

Annabelle intensely gazed at me, but I couldn't quite meet her face with my own eyes. I paused a few moments, but there was no reply.

"After all of the relationships I've been through, that have brought me up to this... This just feels a little too familiar. I didn't mean to lead you on." I finally looked at her face, and she gave up no emotion or expression in stark contrast with the flowery, pointed look she had just a few minutes prior. She stood up, still staring, hands in her pockets of her black, flannel coat. I couldn't quite be sure, but I did a double take as I thought I saw her standing there without water having even touched any part of her hair or clothes. I quickly shook my head as if to try to clear it, and I saw her standing there, drenched but not shivering a bit. 

"I see. So you need time?" She asked, the lack of inflection in her voice still unnerving and hollow. 

"I think so. I won't mind hearing from you now and then, but it's just too soon for me to be having any sort of crushes."

"So you do have a crush on me?" She asked, hesitantly.

"That's not really the point, dear." I felt a short rush of annoyance. Typical. "I think it would be best if I go home."

"As you wish." She said blankly, sitting back down the bench, just watching.

The rain, as if the thunderous skies had heard my request, settled down so I could walk away from this girl in peace. 

The walk home was cold, and lonely, but I couldn't escape the feeling of my heart beating through my chest and satisfaction every time my boots stomped the ground, one step after another. Oh, what did you do? I asked myself over and over, taking out my irritation on the soaked sidewalks underfoot. I can't feel bad for needing space.

But what if to move on, I need to give in?

Love and Cold Winds, Part 4.2

There was a brief pause as the echos of the living door faded, a silent agreement passing between the party members before Garn charged. His blade swung in a high arc before coming crashing down with an echoing boom that shook the dust off the walls.

"THAT IS THE INCORRECT ANSWER TO THE RIDDLE, AND QUITE RUDE!" The door bellowed.

The dragonborn winced as the sword dropped from his numb fingers, arms trembling from the shock of the impact.

"You okay Garn?"Vort walked up to him as he managed to get enough feeling back to give the mage a thumbs up.

"It was more cathartic than painful." he grinned.

"Well, before we try bludgeoning the door down again, let's perhaps try the riddle?" Lym strode up to the door with conviction. "Riddle me, door!"

"VERY WELL!" The door pretended to clear its thoughts before proudly proclaiming; "WHY IS A RAVEN LIKE A WRITING DESK?!"

Almost immediately Norra unleashed a volley of arrows at the doors eyes, while Vort called down bolts of lightning to punctuate the stream of colorful insults pouring out of Lym. Both the door and Garn looked on confused for the minute of coordinated abuse before the three stopped.

"Am...I missing something?"Garn asked in the ensuing rage-silence.

"The 'Riddle' this waste of metal and magic proposed technically doesn't have an answer." Norra explained,

"The answer is subjective to the person who set the door, which isn't part of the dungeon." Lym sighed and rubbed his temples, "Someone, presumably a mage of some kind set up this door to keep other adventurers out."

"Why, though?" asked Garn.

"Its a rule set down by the high guilds. If we managed to catch up with the party then the bragging rights and loot have to be split fairly among each group," Norra stuck her thumb toward the door. "So some simply make that impossible to happen."

"That is incredibly distasteful,"The group nodded in agreement to the former show fighter's words. "Can we do anything about it?"

"Because they are both obnoxious!" Lym shouted at the door

"INCORRECT!" the door shouted back.

"Because they both have shiny things?!"

"INCORRECT!"

"They both give authors ennui?!"

"INCORRECT!"

"Because they are both as ugly as you are?!!"

"INCORRECT AND HURTFUL!!"

Norra sighed, turning to the giggling storm mage.

" Vort? Do you have something up your sleeve?"

"Yup!" the mage grinned as he quite literally pulled a rod of glowing sky blue crystal from his sleeve at the same time as his sword unsheathed.

Garn blinked as he watched Vort make his way toward the door, the crystal rod pulsating and casting strange shadows over the scene unfolding. Lym managed to finish a long string of creative swears mixed with door puns before the mage smashed the rod against the steel of his blade. The tinny sound of vibrating metal mixed with the ethereal tinkling, before everything rose in pitch. The crystal broke down and sucked into the blades intricate runes, causing them to burn so intensely Garn was afraid the metal would melt away.

The scent of ozone filled the air as the tip of Vort's blade slowly leveled itself at the door, so bright it lit the worried expression of the Riddle door. Errant bolts of energy shot out as Vort slowly drew back, before forcefully stabbing at the general direction of the door.

A long whine filled the air before a hefty thump and the screech of lightning tore though the air, as a vertical beam of energy hit the door and obliterated it. The little mage was sent flying in the opposite direction. Garn, ever quick on his feet for such a hearty fellow, managed to position himself in time and catch Vort, the impact sending him sliding a few feet back.

“Good gods what was that?” Garn wheezed as he set Vort down on his feet, knowing an ache would be the first thing to greet him in the morning.

“Storm’s Fury.” Replied the mage cheerfully. “Add one ether crystal and watch doors fly.”

“Yeah but those crystals are expensive.” Norra pushed in.

“I have two more, we’ll be fine!”the little mage limped slightly toward the door, friends following after.

“As fine as people who loudly blew a Riddle door off its hinges, anyway.” Lym pipped up.

Radiant Cosmos [Love]

I take your hand into mine
Cosmos skin with vibrant lines
Mixture swirls beneath the bones
Phosphor clouds melodic notes

Sunshine stars gracing your wake
Dotting night within your stake
Deals were made up yesterday
Among your dark, here to stay

Ember arms with methane sight
Sparks and flint, tinder alight
Nighttime clouds smear the skies
Eyes of ember swarm like flies

Dancing softly, warm to warm
Gold filling your blackened eyes
Static plays my finger tips
Brushing your skin, beating skips

Waves bubble up my hair
Refreshing, cleans to repair
Shuffled memories, made to fear
Lonely thoughts I'd always hear

Golden liquid scorches veins
Tickles, sears anguish away
Planets line among the stars
Within your eyes, no more scars

Itching, molten gold fills in
Cracks and damage from their sin
Power pulses, aura brings
"Pull me deeper with these rings"

Tied among the stars on fire
Can you ever love a vampire
Ebony hair, skin of snow
Monster hidden under glow

Shapeshifter: ~Part VII & Part VIII~

"I... Umm...." Don't freak out now, Annabelle. Pull yourself together.

"Oh, you got it from my purse, huh? Such a sneak!" she playfully whacked my thigh with her over-sized, white designer bag.

"I.. uh... yeah." I tossed the key back into her open bag, and opened the door for her, stepping aside for her to go inside. "I... I'm... Sorry." I felt myself scratch the back of my neck, forcing a weak smile.

She laughed loudly, her deep, sharp giggles echoing down the empty street. "Such a joker, Belle. I like you." To my surprise, she took one calculated step to the side, putting herself in perfect position to take me by the shoulders and, with some impressive force, put me against the wall. A small sound escaped my lips and before I could say a word, she had her soft, lavender lips against my own. I closed my eyes and tasted fine liquor and the freshest fruit, harvested from the Garden of Eden itself. Temptation came over me like looming, shadowed hands on my arms, moving me like I was a puppet. And there was desire again, burning in my souls like a dragon's breath, moving my hands up and down her back, her sides, and up into her angelic hair.

The tingling of energy swam through my veins and into my core, resurrecting some of my spirit and waking up my human body for the first time in too long. I felt all of my arm hair stand on end, goosebumps lining my soft, olive skin under my jacket. I held her against me, letting her warm, heated form lean against me, against her best friend's house. When I felt her chest rested on mine, I slid my hand up the back of her black button up, digging my nails in just enough to show her I begged for more. At the same time, I put some will into my claws, making sure she wouldn't be sick that night. I felt her nausea creep into my fingers, up my hand, my arm, and into my shoulder, where I kept a spark of magic especially curated for this occasion. It would never make it into my system, and would never go back to hers.

Her breath was all I could hear, as it matched the rhythm of her lips and her hands in harmony. I felt a deep chill as she carefully slipped her hand up my side, under my tank top. When her warm, wanting hand made it to my ribs, I became lucid, all at once. It was like a smack in the face, reminding me of what I was doing. I mustered up the little bit of will I had left, and since I couldn't pull away with my head against the wall, I pushed her away as little as possible and was about to squeak out some words. The words didn't come out right away though, since I noticed something odd.

Her hand... Is over my heart.

"Wh-What? Why is it so hard to feel your pulse?" She blinked with wide eyes. "...Are you alright?????" She looked more concerned than frightened, but I knew I was internally shaking.

"I.. Um... I am very flattered... But you're really drunk, so I just didn't want to rush things with you. And about my heart... It's fine, I just have a condition." I forced a short laugh. "So, don't worry."

"Oh... I see." she smiled back then looked down, her face turning slightly red. "You're a great kisser, you know." she nervously giggled, but she had a genuine, charming smile.

"Well Belle, you were a fantastic date. Thank you." she stumbled into the doorway, where I saw a familiar black, fluffy cat who sat in the walkway just inside. I felt the blood finally rush to my face, then I rolled my eyes at my scared self, still standing outside their door in the nighttime wind. "If can't believe I was almost embarrassed because of Necro." I whispered. Still smiling, amused at myself, I reminded myself that cats can't speak English.

=========ACT II (PART VIII)=========

=====GODDESS AMONG MORTALS=====

I stumbled into the house haphazardly, almost tripping on my meowing ball of fuzz, and closed the door silently behind me. I slipped off my heels with great, drunken stealth, but I couldn't have been too quiet since I was startled by the sight of someone leaning against the corner of the stairs.

"That good a night, huh?" asked Narcissa, smugly. "Nice job trying to be quiet, but I waited up for you anyway. Nice girl though?"

Necro rubbed against my leg as I leaned against the wall. The floor kept tilting one way or the other, which worked against my spaghetti, drunk legs. I toppled backwards, the cushy carpet floor catching my fall, and I laid back, letting my head rest on the floor. Suddenly remembering where I was, I sat back up quickly, looking at my best friend in the world.   

"She was great." I genuinely smiled, for the first time in a while, and giggled up a storm while Cissa gave me a look of 'What am I going to do with you?'.

She held out her hand, partially covered by a brown knit jersey, and I took it. She pulled me up, and next thing I knew, I was laying sideways in bed, somehow having my flannel cat pajamas on, feeling as though my bed had turned into a cloud made of magic and fantasy. I turned to stare at my ceiling, still foggy from the booze. I wonder... I shot up out of bed, and to my delight, my stomach felt fine. Bouncing on my bed a little, I heard a strange sound and turned to see Necro yawning, looking sleepily at me. The light from the streetlamps outside lit my room just enough so I could see everything.

"Sorry, baby." I whispered to him, and he gave me a look that said 'I am greatly offended, mere human.'. But he curled up again indignantly in the same spot he was, and fell right back to sleep.

My phone said it was 3:29 A. M., and I smiled, as I realized I had numerous missed texts from Belle. She's just adorable. Today is going to be a great day... I breathed it all in; the cool, almost-fall air, the smell of apple cider filling the house, and the smell of her perfume all over my hair. She reminds me of someone wonderful...

I turned over, hugging my teddy, and I dreamed a long dream. I was floating on a cloud, somewhere so high in the sky that I couldn't see the ground. I felt a tickle on my face, and I awoke on a field of grass. Tall plants lined the edge of a river nearby, and large fields of a variety of crops filled in the river banks neatly. They seemed to go on forever, as they even met the horizon. An unfamiliar cat rubbed its face against my leg while I sat, and I got up, brushing the dirt off of my pajama pants. It was magnificent, with the warm beating sun blessing me with its mere presence, and the sky sparkling blue with few clouds. I could smell the heat baking some of the crops, while others were being watered by rain. But there aren't any clouds.

A larger thing walked over to me. A cat... human.. hybrid? The domestic cat rubbing my leg turned to face it, then lowered their head as if to bow. My mind almost couldn't comprehend how beautiful its wings were, once I saw them. They were as vibrant as the sun, and appeared somehow lighter than the air, yet they were still firm enough to carry this being. It had a sharp-toothed mouth with a cat-like head, had long, feline fore arms, human fingers with long talons, and fur covered human-like legs and feet.

It said something to me in several tones simultaneously, but I could not distinguish one syllable from the other as it tried to communicate. I looked at the bowing cat, and they looked at me, and as I awkwardly stared I felt that I was supposed to be responding to something I hadn't yet heard.

The large, human cat thing, at about nine feet tall, was intimidating on its own. To amplify that fear it let out a deep growl, clearly either impatiently waiting for an answer or just waiting to bite my face off. The sight and sounds knocked me off my feet, and the soft grass caught me while I fell backwards.

To my surprise, as I looked at this mountain of a creature, it coughed a little then said in several different tones at once, "Human... Be careful. Do you... Understand me?"

I let out a squeak in response, then cleared my dry throat, finally answering with the loudest whispered "Yes!" I could muster, the weight of fear holding me from actually speaking.

"Good."

My stomach sank, and the beautiful picture melted away, leaving blackness in its wake. I felt my bed underneath me once again, its pillowed blankets enveloping me in a cocoon of comfort and safety. Necro patted my face with his paw, his toe beans cold to the touch.

"Today is going to be a weird day, my friend."

Love and Cold Winds: Part 4: Obligatory Backstory

    Garn was one of those people who made pros and cons list in their head as they assess their life and long term goals. He was doing so now aboard the traveling caravan, which was as hospitable as a long wood and metal reinforced box that could comfortably fit a party of five human sized occupants. (8 if they were of the smaller races) The dragonborn was the tallest and widest of them all so it was rather cramped. The upside was that the storm flavored mage's own space was right next to his meaning the pair had plenty of time to talk and get to know each other.
    Downside? Flirting is incredibly awkward around a nosy halfling bard who made flagrant eyebrow gestures that flew over Vort's head, but the tall lizard caught all of them. Norra was fairly pleasant as she seemed too oblivious to all of this and was definitely more concerned about the rather fat horse's food intake. Though it did not need a diet, should you mention it the horse would hit every bump on the road until they stopped. Garn could only assume this through the grumpy whinnies in response to Norras' words.
    After the slog of a quest within Gardlid, what followed was an attempt to short change them due to the outdated paper work. It ended when Garn, Norra, and Vort loomed over the head secretary of the Gardlid guild management like a trio of angry deities while Lym spoke calmly and clearly to keep them from smiting the whole place. Thus the original reward was doubled, they stocked their wagon, and then they headed further north toward the larger city of Nomands to register their new party and head to the nearby dungeon.
    To pass the time, well-thumbed decks of tarot cards were pulled out and games from basic poker to a strategy game called Black Tower were played. Garn managed to sneak in a few wins against the seasoned players, though he guessed they were going easy on him. The days wore on as such, swampland slowly receding to allow firmer earth to support hearty trees. They stopped every now and again to cook and share stories of past adventures or of their personal lives when the alcohol was brought out.
    They learned of Garn's life within his tribe, raised by a pair of fiercely protective widows who taught him everything they knew. His friends laughed as he described the farewell meal that nearly made him comatose. He learned of Norra's life being adopted into a small band of rangers tasked with protecting a distant king's sacred forest, and how they stayed behind to fend off the usurper's men while she fled with what lay in the heart of that place.
    Lym sung his tale in the tavern of a small passing town, of how his family wished for him a life not of song and revels but of trade, merchantry, and arranged marriage. The switch from the somber song to a upbeat tempo of how he ran away with his favored lute, the dowry, and the clothes on his back sent the the spectators into an uproar of laughter and cheers.
    Vort was the last to really speak up, and the other two shared knowing glances when the young man held a melancholy smile and simply said he would share when the time was right. The time, as it seemed would be when Lym insisted they stop at a magically formed hot spring a 2 miles from the city proper before their backs all seized up from the mountain of paperwork they would have to work on. Norra vanished into the woman's section of the spring while Lym vanished into the massage parlour with a pair of elves in tow.
    Garn had settled into the hot spring, the slow season leaving the steaming body of water to himself, for at least a few minutes before someone stumbled and landed face first into the water. Steam rose and obscured the figure floating face first in the water, once it cleared enough he caught sight of storm grey hair. He jumped and quickly waded over to Vort and helped him up.
    "You alright?" he asked, keeping the very obviously drunk mage steady.
    Vort looked up unfocused at him and leaned up against him. "I'm drunk!"
    The dragonborn snorted, guiding him to the sunken benches and sitting him down. Vort apparently was a cuddly drunk as he found out, wrapping himself around a free arm. He noticed the scars fairly quickly, given the sheer quantity of them over his body. Old blade wounds and the strange twisting scars of magical attacks spotted his skin, but the most old and prominent were the branching pale lines that resembled lightning covering most of his body.
    "They're pretty ugly huh?" Vort slurred somberly, locking eyes with our narrative vehicle.
    "I wouldn't say that." he replied, the questions stuck to his tongue.
    As if reading his mind, Vort settled against him, hair sliding down to obscure his eyes.
    "Most magical orders find my sect, the Storm Callers, 'barbaric'. The nicer ones call it a relic of an old age, when the lines between druidism and magic were still blurred. They would both be kinda right and wrong in a way." He sluggishly kicked his leg up, sending rough ripples though the springs water. "We do not tame lightning or the air, instead we temper our bodies with intense training to make it our own, like forging. The storm we call on is inside us, made by the deep hate and respect forged from our cruel teachers."
    Silence followed as Vort said nothing else, as he didn't really need to. Garn could already get a far too vivid picture of the little human's early life washed in pain and fury. It made him wonder briefly if Vort's smile was ever genuine. His morbid thought was halted when he heard the mage giggle, and looked down to see him smiling up.
    "You know your tail twitches when your contemplating." he giggled again.
    At least this smile is genuine, Garn thought as returned the smile. "And you become a clumsy poet when you're drunk."
    They both laughed at that, after which a comfortable silence followed as the two enjoyed each other's company lounging in the springs. Garn did have to carry Vort back to his bed as he solidly passed out against the dragonborn, but it was rather obvious that he did not mind at all.

Shapeshifter: -Part VI- [edited]

Laying in bed, I watched my room grow ever darker, breathing and taking in the cushy, absorbent blankets. The sun set over Marblehead, and my room grew darker still. The time was approaching, and I swiftly threw my flannel pajamas to the side of the empty, black hamper. Into the steamy shower I stepped quickly, feeling the exhaustion of the day wash away with the infernal water. My fingers ran through my conditioned hair as it were composed of fairy silk, and I breathed slowly but largely, expanding my lungs wider with every inhale of pomegranate and sugar.  The scents and my energies swirled among the steaming room, caressing my aura and every inch of me into its grasp. The clouds of steam billowed around my hourglass, full figure while I stepped out to find my plush red towels folded neatly for me. I dried off and dressed to the tune of Mystery Skulls, amplifying my desires and anticipation even further. The usual bubbling sensation of refreshing energy wafted over all of my skin, not bothering me much since the early days of 'mirroring', as I called it.

I looked at the spotless, shining bathroom tiles and felt that I had forgotten something important... No matter. Time to dry. I blew out my midnight hair, pulling and brushing it out until it was straight as a ruler. I left it down, framing my made up face well, and dressed in a long black blazer on top of a black tank to keep out the cooling night time air; After all, Autumn was here. I paired it with gray skinny jeans and over the knee, flat black boots. My black faux leather purse paired with the outfit nicely, giving it an air of business casual. Perfect.

"Hot date tonight?" someone asked, and I whirred, my bones nearly escaping my skin.

"Oh, Serena!" I breathed. The spell had worked, after all.

"Just wanted to let you  know that your clothes will be done in the dryer soon. I'll be leaving now." she smiled.

"I'll walk you out!" I said, silently promising myself I'd never leave my door unlocked again.

I quickly poked my stereo to turn it off, and walked around quickly to the front door, holding it open for Serena's unassuming form. Who knew someone so unassuming could be so quiet? I scoffed at myself.

"Thank you for everything. Your work was very satisfactory, at the least, and I'm sure we'll be getting to know each other well." I handed her a key to the house. "For when I'm not here." I locked the door behind me and started down the mason stairs, about to start walking down the sidewalk.

"Um... Do you need a ride somewhere?" Serena asked, looking at the severe lack of vehicles on this side of the road.

"I'm just walking around the corner! Thank you, though!" I faked a smile and waved. The last thing I wanted to do was put her in danger. What a nice girl, but I just couldn't do that to her. The more distance between us, the better.

I marched down the sidewalk while Serena started up her car and carefully pulled away. The sun was almost completely gone then, emphasizing the glowing, promising full moon above.

A bit later, I walked up to the bar, taking a deep breath before checking the time at the door. 6:58 P. M. She'll be in her usual spot, and I looked around for a second before laying eyes on her.  She had her hair in long, tight braids which framed her face like a work of art. Her dark skin shimmered in the faint lights like the moonlight reflects upon precious onyx. I approached her and smiled, accepting my fate. She was sitting alone at the table as a queen, and I was lucky enough to have her undivided attention for the night.

We were serious at first, but after the first two martinis we were getting a bit more comfortable. As expected, she was making all of the first moves, and all I had to do was show her what a good, non-clingy, secure person I was. After doing this 5 previous times, I had become an expert at the early game with her, I hoped. She is as easy to start with as a hot knife cuts through butter.

Her dark eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and I looked into them deeply as she spoke about her job, her insecurities, her achievements, and her desires. Her dreams were beautiful, and her insecurities even more so. By the time I downed my fifth martini, however, we were barely speaking. At that point, we may as well have just been saying we wanted to have a nice night in bed together, but from what I could remember, we were just a mess of mumbled flirting and half-meant arm touches. By the end of the sixth, my mental emergency alarms rang in my head, bringing me back from the depths of drunkenness to heavily buzzed. I can't drink too much... I need my magic... To help... me... I struggled and stared at the table, refocusing my thoughts, turning my inhibitions back on, only taking a few seconds to realize that I was missing the previous ten minutes of my life. Idiot. I looked back at her dazzling eyes, her shiny braided hair behind her. She was drunk, but not too drunk to make okay choices. I can't sleep with her on the first date though, especially being intoxicated.

"This was s'posed to be a ...Date, you know? You are BEAUTIFUL!" she said a bit too loudly to me. Okay, maybe more intoxicated than I thought. She'll be getting sick soon if I don't stop her.

I asked for the check, to which she became only slightly confused, and quickly forgot as I stuffed my card into the bill as soon as it came.

After signing and paying I debated with myself for a bit. I won't sleep with her, but one kiss couldn't hurt... Could it? But she even said today was supposed to be a date... But I haven't seen her this drunk, at least we broke up last time... And honestly, I've never seen her drink this much...

"I'm... Not feelin' so good..." she half mumbled.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," I said lightly, helping her up from her chair. "I'll walk you home and you'll wake up tomorrow, totally fine." I smiled reassuringly.

"O-okay...." she said, stumbling a little on her feet.

And away we went from the bar, an epic journey of laughter and stumbling as we clamored through the quiet, chilly streets of Marblehead for a little while. We stopped at a familiar abode, one made of dark wood and angled rooftops that I had been in at least a thousand times before. I helped her up the small stairs, all the way to her door. And out of habit, I took out my own key that I had to her best friend's house, and slipped it into the keyhole. A perfect fit, as always.

"How... How'd you get that out of my purse??" She looked confusedly at the key in the lock, still drunk but clearly sobering up a little.

Time seemed to stop as I stared, wide-eyed, at what I had just done in front of her. And I froze in shock, unable to think of a clever thing to say.

Love and Cold Winds: Part Three

~A Slightly Gruul-ing Task~

    The meaty creature hit the earth with a similar noise to a club striking a recently deceased horse. The aforementioned metaphor would also convey the feelings of the bedraggled party. After their bender in Parnattha and a perhaps too weepy goodbye from the arena owners, they traveled northward to the swamp's border of the town of Gardlid. From there they were tasked with eliminating a tribe of Gruul, nasty goblin-like creatures that had taken residence in an old fort.
    The town didn't want to deal with the dungeon that might spawn there if they were left unintended, and so our party set off to subjugate them. They did not imagine a quest so simple could drag on for so long all thanks to a lack of motivation from the local guild's scout core.
    The quest had been up for weeks with no one claiming it, allowing the little pests to get a spawning pit up and running to double their numbers. Garn swung his blade back and forth like a grisly farmer cutting down the small hoard pouring into the cracked courtyard of the fort. Gruul are not smart creatures and did not think for a minute to try and flank the dragonborn. Norra was sure as hell using their idiocy to thin their numbers down with a volley of arrows while Lym aided and berated via bardic magic behind some nearby cover. Vort meanwhile was a few paces back behind Garn, excitedly chanting over a gently glowing blade.
    The mages' order of The Storm Callers Creed magic fighting style could be summarized as 'swift and brutal' or 'ominously distant.' This was due to the more destructive spells in this arsenal needed time to build a charge and have a high range and are supplemented by spells quickly cast and supporting blade work. With the final word the blade began to discharge small arcs of lightning, the many runes across it surface glowing brightly.
    "Now, Garn!" Vort called, raising the blade over his head.
    The dragonborn tossed his blade to the side and dropped to the ground, just in time for Vort to swing his blade down. A bolt of lightning tore free from its metal, magically honing onto the first Gruul, sending smaller bolts arching though the horde behind them. A swath of Gruuls lay melting while others were stunned, then pin cushioned and burnt to death.
    Garn stood up with a grunt, retrieving his blade as Vort sped past, literally hopping from one monster to another. Lym made sure he and Garn could keep up as Norra sprinted forward, quick sniping stragglers. To the untrained eye this whole scenario was the quick deployment of a well thought out plan, though this could not be farther from the truth. There were 10 whole minutes of bickering before Vort settled everything by with the simple plan of "Keep hitting them and wait for the signal!"
    But it worked, and the party pushed their way into the entrance hall. As mentioned before, Gruul are not the brightest monsters birthed from The Pit. When the leader of their kin began turning into a eldritch goo balloon, they thought it best to plunk him in the biggest room of their new lair. This was of course, the front entrance. Nestled between two crumbling statues was a circle of black bubbling ooze. At its center was a spiral of twisted metal spines, enclosing a fist-sized red sphere in a rough eye shape. It seemed to glare at them as they approached, the deceivingly thin surface bubbled with a false depth.
    "So, What are we going to do with that?" Garn asked, wary of all the vibes coming off of it.
    "We hit it until it breaks!" Vort said cheerily. "Unless we want to keep it for some reason."
    "Hard pass, the only people who want those things are the Dungeon Guild and shady ass people." Lym pipped up. "Both are similar really."
    "Welp, lets get to it then." Norra knocked an arrow and aimed it at the sphere. "I think we got here before this thing got too powerful."
    The arrow flew true, and hilariously bounced against the orb. There was a pause before the ooze below violently surged upward into a fist and came hurling at the archer. Vort quickly became the target as he pushed his friend away and it sent him hurtling toward a wall. Garn moved without thinking with speeds faster than people could comprehend, and caught the seemingly frail mage in his arms, taking the impact with his spine.
    Lym set fire to the ichor substance with a screech of his lute strings, followed up by the archers hail of arrows. The hefty dragonborn cushioned the impact with most of his back, hoping that cracking sound wasn't his own as he slid to the ground with enough care not to crush Vort. There was a long moment of silence (aside from the quiet shrieking of of the spawner burning to death) before  the mage spoke up.
    "You okay?"
    "Thats my line." Garn replied.
    "I'm not the one who took a stone wall to the back."
    "I'm a lot tougher than you." The big lizard felt Vort shift atop him and found his face entering his vision.
    "Do I look that frail?" Vort asked.
    "Perhaps?" Garn replied, realizing he was talking to the man who had slapped him into a wall and was a seasoned adventurer. He was glad scales couldn't blush.
    "Well thanks for having my back, I hope it doesn't harm yours." Vort said with a smile.
    From afar, Lym watched the little scene with a bemused grin while the ever stoic archer picked a thin crystal from the dissolving remains of the adolescent spawner's core.
    "I think someone has a crush on our little storm cloud." the bard half sung.
    "Neat." Said Norra curtly.
    "Oh come on now, you can't possibly be a grump about such a beauty as is a young loves' first bloom!" The halfing was already spinning a whirlwind affair between the mage helping the warrior into a sitting position to check on his back.
    "Sure I can." She replied. "We have known Garn for a handful of days. What you think is a crush could just of be him protecting the magic user like any good party member should."
    "I mean maybe," Lym replied, "But just look at them!"
    Norra looked at their mage inspecting their warrior's back, watching as he happily informed him that it wasn't his spine and helped him to his feet.
    "Yes," she replied with her arms folded. "A great show of teamwork."

Love and Cold Winds: Part Two

    Lym'rothlin Badgerheart (Also know as Lym to his friends and lovers) had heard and sung songs of heroes of happenstance using their wit or dumb luck to accomplish their goal. The handsome halfling had no idea he would ever find a living soul that would have both aspects wrapped in a uniquely eye-catching package such as Vort. 
    Norra was a hunter down to her core, born and raised in the dense Novera Forest. She knew how to track, hunt, and even cast a little magic to give her arrows and knives enough of an impact on monstrous beasts. Caution and distance had been her only companions 'till a boy with storm colored hair saved her from the club of a berserk minotaur, and so the wood elf swore a life debt to him.
    Their reasons aside, over the year of travelling and performing feats to gain a decent reputation, the three found themselves becoming fast friends. And while they decided things by diplomacy, Vort's cheerfully chaotic disposition often led them down very interesting roads. In this particular instance it had led them to the human settlement of Parnattha on the edge of Garr'thd's Swamp.
    Within this particular town was a Tavern (non) ironically called The Slippery Fish. Garn found himself sitting in a back booth with Vort and aforementioned company. His prospects of ale-powered flirting was dashed as he looked between the chipper bard and the ranger oozing stoicism out of her green cloak. Vort had sat himself right next to Garn while the height-apposed duo sat opposite of them. Lym had just finished regaling everyone within ear shot of the perilous tale of how the party got its name, The Happy Accidents.
    "Well...An excellent song." Garn finally said. The halfling stood on his seat and bowed, eliciting a smattering of applause from nearby patrons. To think this all stemmed from the harmless question of, "So, who are you?"
    "Anyway," Norra said, "Lets just cut to the chaise. We need a fourth member to get into the higher levels and you're the best option for miles."
    This was not the first time the dragonborn had heard this line. Once he left his little village and started making a splash in his newfound profession, a representative of the nearest local guild (The Hardy Serpent) came to fill him in on the way of the world while attempting to recruit him.
    In times long past past the five great heroes of old formed the first guilds to combat the evil sweeping across the land. The High Guilds are those guilds which follow the highest orders of the High King and the Collective Kingdoms. From each region they oversee the Lesser Guilds, those formed by seasoned adventures to tackle greater challenges and tasks with all the benefits involved. Further segmenting this are Parties, smaller bands of adventures who are either in a guild or trying to get into one. There are also Mercenaries, those who prefer the independence away from the political  and cutthroat practices guilds tend to accumulate in their ranks.
    Any adventurer also had a Level, which was a short hand for their experience and prowess, and depending on the guild the process of leveling up could have been stupidly easy or easily frustrating. Garn happily skipped all this nonsense and marked himself as 'Mercenary, not taking requests'.
    So, why would he even hear them out now? One could blame the small man with storm colored hair that bitch slapped him into a wall. He of course would not admit that to himself or anyone else.
    "I don't know, what's in it for me?" Garn finally said.
    "A chance to actually be challenged again." Vort spoke up, "Plus, the money isn't half bad!"
    Garn blinked and looked down at the smiling human. Given he was the one who bitch slapped him an hour ago this sentence out of context would have been condescending. However the sheer sincerity it was spoken with, combined with a very honest assessment, Garn had begun to feel ever so slightly bored with his lot in life. He had left his home village to experience the world, and only took the job to hone his sword skills and get some gold for himself.
    Given the mediocre challengers he was put up against, he was made into the child with the biggest stick in the age old game of 'don't hit me with that'. He was tempted to say no to them much like the other parties and guilds that had attempted to recruit him, but he was more tempted to say yes (definitely not from the silly flight of having a crush, how dare you imply that?).
    "Alright," he said finally after the correct amount of tension built. "I'm in."
    "Yes!" Vort shouted joyfully. "Drinks are on me!"
    The whole party cheered, and proceeded to partake in the age old adventuring bonding experience; Becoming amazingly drunk and rowdy for the rest of the night.

Shapeshifter: Part V

Shackles holding me upright against a smooth stone surface, I awoke to... a different realm entirely, turning my stomach to shreds and stealing my breath from my heaving chest. Spheres the size of houses tumbled and turned in a black infinite abyss, dotting the vista with stars of lost hope above and around me. The spheres barely missed me, but those dots in the sky didn't look quite right either, almost as if each one had its own expressions and emotions as if they were some how alive. This turned my vision blotchy, and I attempted to close my eyes but it burned with the strength of a searing pan from an oven. I didn't dare look down in the horror that I may have been, in fact, floating, as my legs dangled past the slab I was tied to. I tried to close my eyes but they refused, and my body screamed as I opened my mouth and no sound escaped, as if I had never had one. I saw nothing of myself besides my left arm, which looked darker and skinny, a long hand sprouting forth with even longer fingers; I wasn't sure I could get used to the sight of it and panicked even further than what I believed my limits were. The unease in my stomach came to a vomit as I felt something alive within me, trying to emerge (crawl?) up my throat. The lack of breath running through my throat did not disturb me in the least, as if I never even had lungs. A windy whirring sound caught my attention for a brief few seconds, which came louder and louder, as if something were moving towards my dangling, infinitesimal body in this chaotic world of the strange. The thing in me was slimy and was coming out any way it could, a few tendrils, possibly even tentacles, at a time. Expanding and stretching, I felt my throat about to burst.

I woke up face-planting the floor again, this time too late, and I squeaked with a half scream into the solid floor when I turned my head. With a muffled thud all of me landed without too much harm done. I coughed and gasped loudly, a horribly loud cacophony of wheezes coming from my exasperated body. I writhed along the floor and held onto the rug until my breath finally slowed a bit, sweat covering the once clean, pink fluff of my small rug. I felt the terrible stomach drop of foreboding and with a start, I paused, and ran to the bathroom to vomit what was left of my dinner.

I'm never eating calamari again, I repeated in my head like a broken record, tears flowing down my face from the toxic taste of bad, half-digested seafood and bile.  After hours of retching, I was finally empty and laid on my side on the cushy blue bath mat, my muscles aching and my stomach feeling like I had swallowed needles. 

"Water..." I croaked to the air, pushing on my leg to slowly shamble over to the kitchen to get a glass, nearly falling with each reach of my now weakly legs. The walls were an excellent tool for catching myself, at the least. The cool liquid soothed the irritation while that sustenance helped my stomach stop turning with every second gone by. With a fumble or two, I hastily searched for my phone, the only device between herself and I. My 'men's' flannel pajama pants tried to contain the phone forever, but alas, I beat them at their own game by taking the phone out of its textured, industrial case. No new notifications lit up the bleak, depressing screen with 9:52 A. M. read on it. I opened the texting app and quickly typed out "Good morning. It's Annabelle" before staring into the white, infinite light that was the message box.

If I put a winking face after, it might seem too forward or creepy. But if I put no smiley I might sound like an ass. But if I do use a smiley she might think I'm too friendly. Or she might hate smileys. Goddamned human norms...

I started breathing shorter and I placed my phone down, closed my eyes, and inhaled with all of my might. My lungs were squashed like the gods were clamping down on each one with a large, muscular hand.

Calm down, Annabelle... You idiot... I really need to do something about this anxiety, and this weird lung-squeezing sensation.. It's going to become a huge problem. And with that thought, I forced my shaking hands to pick up my phone, type a regular smiley face and send the message, then dragged myself over to the marshmallow couch with frailty. I let the couch devour all of me that it would allow, with a box of crackers in one hand and The Dreamlands Journals: X in the other.

Serena will be here soon, at least. Hopefully she's good. I'd hate to lose another mundane servant...

The Dreamlands series didn't sit as well with me today as it normally would, as I kept flashing back where I was a few hours ago. Each time I saw the long, thin, brown arm coming out of me, my stomach turned once more. My body crawled with specks of pins and needles all over with my strangely quick, but quite normal healing abilities. The clock chirped as it struck noon, and my crackers were running low. I prepared to see Serena by primping my messy bun and wiping off my streaked makeup from some days prior. After all, who doesn't love a post-scheming B. O.?

Serena was normal, to say the least; 'Mundane' and 'inconspicuous' were her middle names. The stomach churns pried my attention from The Journals and, giving up, I decided to watch Serena instead. I had barely noticed her coming in as she gave a mousy "hello!" and begun the work I was paying her for immediately. She had shoulder length wavy brown hair pulled into a top knot with a bandanna over most of it, with dark brown eyes and an earnest vibe that seeped into everything she touched. She was perfectly normal, for hired help. The best part about her was her lack of awareness of my false walls.

My leg itched when, with a buzz, my phone finally vibrated. I picked it up, and it was her.

"Good Afternoon :)

You and me, martinis, 7 o'clock tonight. You in?"

Her forwardness never ceased to impress me, and I dropped my phone onto the wooden table with a clatter while holding my breath. I read it over once, then twice, then three times, after picking it up with a careful grip.

"She wasn't supposed -" Serena turned and looked at me, listening, as she was the only person here. "I just -" I stopped at that, feeling my mind start shorting out, and made a heel turn before swiftly sliding on my striped socks into my bedroom.

"She wasn't... She wasn't supposed to ask me out... THIS soon..." I half-breathed to the air. The other half was a loud, ever increasing wheeze. My senses began veering, as I then heard the ticking of the analog clock as if it were right next to my ear, TICK... TOCK... TICK... TOCK... The ticking began to drift away, but before I could feel relief, I smelled the cleaning solution Serena used in the kitchen filling my nostrils with ammonia. My nose and sinuses were on fire, and I threw myself on the bed at the woozy unraveling of my balance.

After what felt like a whole day of having my eyes closed, I then could hear my phone vibrating inside my brain, my skull, my bones, like magical vibrations were torturing and sensationalizing my unassuming body before I even knew what was happening.

Magical seizure? The words came to mind, but I hadn't felt anything like it before in the 106 years I had been on this strange earth.

Asthma... Magic... HALT. I gathering up all the Willpower I could within myself, feeling it flow through me like a warm, violent liquid. That I could concentrate was certainly a miracle, allowing me to finally end the curse Annabelle had been stricken with from infancy. Warm liquid pooled in my lungs and it stung and burned as hot as lava. If you could imagine pouring bleach into your chest cavity, that wouldn't even begin to describe the agony I had just begun putting myself through. The pain in my chest completely covered all of the pain I would have had to bear within my skull.

I maintained a firm grip on the flannel sheets and quilted blankets of my bed, just barely being able to direct my screams into the bed, hopefully muffling them enough that Serena wouldn't hear.

I awoke several hours later facing my ceiling, all of my pain and mental anguish finally gone. The relief overflowed within my soft, squishy shell of a body. My lungs felt oddly clear and free from strain, and my head was sorting itself out at a quick and steady tempo. "Thank the Gods." I whispered to the peace and quiet of my room. The different recesses of my mind, no matter how deep, had been knocked around quite a bit. I could feel the disarray cluttering corners and niches of the dark halls that mapped my thoughts. My palms stung with nail marks where I had clawed through the silk, violet sheets, drawing drops of blood.


I rolled over with more ease than ever before, my new body finally becoming accustomed to my unfamiliar spirit. Enjoying the lifting of weights off of my chest, I reached for my phone on the cold, solid end table.

It was all real, right?
To my delight, the message was actually there. The anxiety of the day that had melted away was soon replaced with overwhelming determination. I caught myself smiling at my phone as I answered, "Sure! I'd love that." 

Shapeshifter -Part IV-

This woman I stole had been in impeccable physical health, but she had the anxiety of someone who had been through more than a few incidents in her life. I didn't have time to reflect on it as she sucked me into this deep conversation that I was letting her trap me into. I was a willing participant, strung up in her web of anecdotes. Her words always gave me both a flutter in my stomach and a tightness in my chest, like a titan squeezed around my lungs with an enormous grip. It was both familiar and incredible, though the squeezing was a bit harder than my liking in this body.

Not showing my unease, I hoped, I forced myself to breathe the best I could, and timed it with the ticking of my designer watch, at the same time demanding my eyes to stop looking anywhere but into hers.

"Do you understand what I mean?" she looked straight at me, a sincerely concerned look on her face. She's been talking this whole time and all I've been doing is breathing. God. Damn. It.

"Yeah. Thank you." I smiled, speaking slightly better than squeaking, this time.

"So what's bothering you? What's on your mind, hun? You look lost."

I looked down awkwardly, trying to use body language to my advantage. "I don't really want to talk about it, thanks though." Damn it, why did I do that? Looking around in a small panic I said, "Honestly I'd really just like to talk with you about other things, if that's okay."

"Oh? Well how would you like to hear about my most recent breakup?" She gave a smile that read about as innocent as a demon of depravity.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Shit. SHit. SHIt. SHIT. 

"Let me tell you something, this lady was incredible. She was beautiful, rich, good at making love, and cared about me. But you know how sometimes people can get a little too into you?"

I stared blankly and just barely nodded.

"She was possessive, you know? She said that she just couldn't bear to see me with anyone else, whether it be an acquaintance or a friend. Total bullshit, if you ask me. Happens all the time, though" she sighed. "Everyone else I know has issues with guys or ladies cheating on them, and I'm over here with the stalkers." she laughed. It sounded like the Christians' version of the Devil in my ears.

I believed that I was keeping my calm well, until I realized my eyes were spread wide in amazement. My mouth was definitely also agape. "I suppose I can imagine what you mean... After all, people need their space, right?"

I frantically searched my mind for hundreds of ways I could distract myself and have time for myself while dating her, and exactly zero of them were appealing to me. Reading? I've read every book I own plus I already read two books per day from the library. Painting? Boring. Music? Already d --

"Damn straight... What was your name again, sweetie?"

We exchanged names and numbers, and that was the moment I made it my mission to let her have time for herself at all costs, for the fifth time. The first time didn't count, since I didn't truly know her until it was too late. But this time, the sixth relationship, I am making my fifth attempt at this 'space' thing count.

That evening after I went home, all I could do was sit and breathe while my mind gradually churned slower from the excitement that afternoon. I sipped my finest whiskey with my back slouched into the new marshmallow couch I had delivered a few days prior. Even though the television was on, I didn't see it. I didn't even truly hear it. My eyes looked but the rest of me was seeing micro expressions, blinks, shimmering hair, all belonging to her. Why did I have to choose a body with such bad anxiety? I agonized over how the conversation went, over and over through my chaotic brain.

Though, after a while, it turned into my past faces, my new face, my plans, my life... And
like the waves of an ocean, my mind caressed the edges of the coast of where my wonder sat. Why am I the way I am? And if the Gods made humanity, then who made ME? I jumped out of my seat as I saw Vincent's face stare back at me from the lit screen. And now I'm hallucinating again. Great. My whiskey now covering the nearby rug, I wandered to bed and laid in the darkness, truly feeling how alone I was for the first time for as long as I could remember. Those questions lurked ever closer than before, creeping about the corners and niches of my mind while I tried to focus on anything, everything else. Each and every one haunted me into my sleep.

Shapeshifter -Part III-

Between shopping and moving, all I could remember was falling: falling into a dark living room, with a bear skin rug and a dim fireplace. A red velvet couch sat next to me as the music of life quickly muted to eerie silence. I floated still, feet touching the floor with no feeling. The lack of voices in my head was both a relief and horrifying. I was alone... Actually alone. No one would find me here. All that surrounded this room was pitch. Where there should have been walls there was shadow. Even with the irregularities, I held a feeling of calm underneath the dread. My stomach sank with realization. Is this mine? I shuddered with a cold chill, and when I blinked a gold and black crown appeared upon the velvet couch, about the size for a king. About my size, I silently thought to myself. I could hold myself back no longer, and temptation pulled me to the crown. With a leap, I was in my blankets, my bed, the beaming sunlight from my window on my face and reality sinking in. I could scarcely breathe with my lungs burning for air.

The weird, foreboding dream haunted me every night without fail.

I woke up in my bedroom, standing near the edge of my bed,  watching the floor come closer and closer to my face faster than you could say the word ‘ouch’. My life flashed before my eyes, reminding me again of her aura and presence, but luckily, my arms reached the floor before the rest of me did. Sweat poured from my head down to my chin, then dripped onto the fluffy, purple rug I picked up yesterday.

“Uuuuuuuuuggggggggghh,” I vocalized to myself and the ceiling, rolling onto my back. At least the softness of the rug was a little comforting, cushioning my back from the wooden floor. My beating head went away once I thought of her, and her velvet soft skin, her silver streaked, black silky hair in the wind like it was straight out of a shampoo commercial. I wondered how she was, if she smelled the same, if she cut her hair, if she got that promotion…

I snapped out of my mind as my phone buzzed in my pocket. A reminder read "PART I START" lit up across the screen. A grin grew across my face with a demure and maniacal feel. Let us begin.

I read my list one last time, rehearsing everything in my head based on how it went the last 6 times. I slipped on skinny jeans and a striped shirt with a new bracelet. It will work this time, I know it will. I just have to have a little faith. I brushed eye shadow and blush, and drew the sharpest cat eyeliner possible. My name is Annabelle Chevalier. I went to college for Literature and that I have an avid interest in reading and writing. I am 35, and I take vitamins. Exercise and health is important to me. I grabbed my new favorite bag, a classic brown messenger bag made of faux leather and careful planning. I was adopted and have no idea of my biological parents, and my adoptive parents passed away at least 3 years ago. I smiled a couple of times in the mirror to make sure I looked perfect, and then checked the clock. I was right on time.

I marched over to the corner, sirens blaring in my head, ignoring a couple of idiots on the street. I peered into the window of the bookstore. The angelic, silver haired wonder of my interest was indeed sitting at one of the three cafe tables, sipping her favorite tea and reading the first book of the Dreamlands Journals series for the 28th time. I felt my hair to make sure it was still pristine and walked in, shoulders straight and head high. I couldn't feel my limbs, as they disintegrated into nothing from just one look at her. My head nearly beat out of my skull while I badly feigned perusing the aisles for the next fiction novel to read. The temptation to look at her was pulling me ever deeper into this hole I was digging for myself.

Her long black hair becoming lustrous and metallic, sparkling under the ceiling lights appeared to glow with an otherworldly sheen. My hands ached to feel it swim in between my fingers. I caught myself shortening in breath, and I closed my eyes to force my lungs to take in as much air as possible, slowly. My breath was slightly audible as I inhaled with all of my might.

Needles shot up my arm as my nails dug deep into my palm. My other hand just trembled, fingers outstretched. Breathing helped a little with both cases.

I opened my eyes in time to see her smiling at me. From her table, probably 20 feet away, she clearly could have seen me attempting to squash an anxiety attack from possessing my body. Why me? I looked up at the ceiling as if to look at the sky, at the heavens, at the gods in embarrassment. I felt the flush of blood go to my ears and cheeks, as I had each and every time I attempted to seduce her again. Why do I even try to be subtle?

"Are you okay?" she asked, giggling a bit at my social failure. Gliding up to me with the poise of a beauty queen, she spoke, "I don't mean to pry, but... Well, I am a psychologist, and it appeared you were having a bit of a rough time there. Would you like to talk about it?"

I felt disbelief, which of course I probably showed on my stupid face, and while I paused she waiting only a few moments before, "Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have offered. I'll go sit down again." She walked back to her table looking down at her feet, fidgeting with her fingers together.

The awkwardness consumed us both, while I stood there speechless in front of the Miscellaneous Fiction aisle, and she tried but failed to concentrate on her book.

"I-- you know what? Sure. I'd love to ta--" I coughed as my voice cracked from nearly asphyxiating myself with anxiety. My lungs were squeezing themselves shut faster than I could breathe in. I forced another deep breath, and she smiled. "Talk. I'd love to talk."

Sweetwater: Anniversary II

Twilight had just begun creeping over the town by the time Gertie had made her way home, a cozy cottage amongst other cozy cottages tucked away along a road that neatly divided the edge of Sweetwater forest and civilization.
     Gertie hauled a few large bags up and fumbled her way into the kitchen, pausing to enjoy the ever present scent of dried herbs adding to the "witches kitchen" aesthetic that swallowed up the remnants of a tired and aged kitchen that was there when they moved in. (The living room had been Gerties project, turned into the home of mismatched comfy furniture, Persian rugs, and animal plushies.)
    The back door was open, screen door allowing a cool breeze to gently roll in bringing with it the scent of magic (such scent varies from person to person, for this particular witch they gave off the smell of cooked walnuts and honey). Gertie peeked out into the backyard with a smile creeping on her face. Much like the kitchen the backyard belonged to Sami and was soaked in mystique and magic the circular garden could cram into it.
    Plant life both familiar and strange grew in the beds; basil, mint, lavender, sage, foxgloves and butterfly bushes. Among them grew strange lupines, thin stalks that held fat golden buds that swayed without wind and held a swirling luminescence within their petals. The same invisible winds seemed to move the willow trees leaves as it sat at the front of the garden.
    At the center of all this was a simple stone bench which Sami sat. Love, one might say is sparked by the first glance of someone, Gertie however fell in love all over again when she laid eyes on Sami. They were petite and willowy, almost buried in the big fuzzy cardigan and rose printed skirt with long blond hair tumbling over her back. Their large round glasses sat next to a crescent sickle on the bench.
    Even if she couldn't see Sami's face Gertie knew they had a serene smile on their face as her hands slowly danced though the unseeable forces that swirled and flowed though the garden, through and around the strange Lupines and gold tinged leaves of Sami's willow.
    They had tried to explain magic to Gertie, how they had to "make sure it's an eddy not a swamp, so the flowers can grow right." The more complicated details went over Gerties head, but she knew garden tending took time. Which gave her ample time to prep her gift.
    After the sun stubbornly quit and the night made itself at home, Sami wandered back into the house. She set several bushels of herbs and now blooming lupines (the irony of the name not lost on either) and began separating them into twine held bundles. She could see Gertie holding herself back, and once she was finished she braced for her usual greeting: a bear (wolf?) hug, topped with a kiss to the top of Samis' head.
    "Happy Anniversary flower child." Gertie said sweetly.
    there was a short pause before Sami said, "Oh shoot, was that today?"
    Awkward silence came crashing in like a tree falling on top of a Prius. the werewolfs head spun with so many thoughts and responses to this situation and eventually decided to shift forms to hold Sami up and pout in a way only lycanthrops can.
    It took a good five seconds before the witches poker face cracked, a fit of giggles broke free. This prompted their girlfriend to sit her on the kitchen counter, cross her arms, huffing loudly and turning away.
    "No Floofs come back!" Sami giggled, only receiving an indignant grunt in response.
    " I got you that pink fur dye you wanted." she said in a sing song voice.
    Gertie looked over her shoulder.
    " I even got a heart stencil so we can do the pattern you liked from Para-naturals." 
    It must be said, werewolves do not have the best poker faces in their other forms, as Gertie's tail started to wag and eventually returned to hugging Sami in an even more warm and fluffy fashion. There tender moment was interuptted by Gerties brain, reminding her of the tidal wave of excietment and panic that congealed into the picnic basket sitting on the table, managing to look expectant without a face.
    She shifted Sami into one arm and grabbed the basket and jogged out the door, a big grin plastered to her face.
    " Uh Floofs? Where are we going?" Sami asked, wrapping their arms around the werewolves neck.
    " Someplace," she said making sure her mate and the basket was firmly in hand (paw?) before sprinting into the tree line at supernatural speeds that left the surprised, and then excited shouts of Sami behind them.
    If you asked any couple new or old, the adventure to Blue Moon Lake is just as     If you asked any couple new or old, the adventure to Blue Moon Lake is just as romantic as the place itself. Legend has it if you do find the lake with water so clear and blue the moon always reflects with the same shade, then your love will last eternal.
    Gertie had blindly found the correct series of woodland paths on their fist date with Sami. It had been a magical night, aided in its rose tinting by a copious amount of alcohol.  She thankfully remembered the way to the shore of the luminescent lake.
    A steriotypical checkered sheet laid out, wine, along with a chicken dinner and a bluetooth speaker playing a certian old song by a famous crooner that was the right amount of cheesy. Looking into Sami's eyes Gertie could see a mixture of surprise, love, and a bit of bemusemnt, further shown by her tell tale grin.
    " What?" asked Gertie.
    " Nothing, my romantic." she giggled.
    Gertie blushed and chuckled along with her, before she leaned in and kissed the little witch. The food and wine momentarily forgotten as they pulle themselves closer and held the moment as the song reached its climax before Gerties stomach grumbled and prompted Sami to giggle.
    " Well, we should eat before the food gets cold." the witch said. " So your stomach can't ruin any more romantic moments."
    "Agreed." Gertie said, happily tearing off a leg while Sami carved herself off a piece.