In Other Words

Mickey Fisher opened his mouth, only to release a stream of nonsensical words that were most definitely not English. Well, it might have been some semblance of English, but it didn't make sense. Even to Laurel Richards, who had known Mickey for longer than she could remember. He might not have had many words, but Laurel always understood what he was trying to say in the end. It was just said in other words.

She sighed, a soft smile spreading across her lips as he approached, grinning brightly back at her. Ever the dapper gentleman, Mickey was dressed as if he'd just come from an evening cocktail reception in a dinner jacket of blue-green velvety suede. He might have, she reasoned. Mickey attended lots of fancy formal dinners for this charity or that fundraiser. She'd even accompanied him to a few. Just not this one, and she felt suddenly underdressed in her floaty mint green dress.

Mickey proffered his arm, smile unwavering, and she looped it through her own. He waltzed her around the expanse of the otherwise empty gazebo with gentle grace, their path lit by a few street lamps along the edges. With anyone else, Laurel would have been self conscious and worried about prying eyes judging them. But Mickey had this way of taking her away to another world. Another world where it was just the two of them, enjoying each other's company.

Pausing midstep, Mickey looked at her, eyes shining as he pointed at the bright full moon in the sky above them.
"Do you want to go to the moon Mickey?" Laurel asked.
He shook his head, let go of his hands and pointed, this time to himself, then her, and finally, back up at the moon.
"You want to go to the moon with me?"
Again, he shook his head. He pointed again; at himself, her, then the moon before laying his hand flat in the air and swiping it sideways.
Laurel gasped as understanding set in. It was like he'd read her mind. "It is kind of like we're on the moon!"
Mickey's grin widened.
"In other words," she said, smiling, "another world."
Again he nodded.
"I like us having our own little world."
Mickey's grin widened more, lighting his eyes and making them sparkle. Reaching out, he took her hand, kissing it before pulling her closer and starting to dance her round again.

They danced long enough for her to lose track of time. It must have been well after midnight be the time he pulled away. But Mickey held on to her hands, still beaming. He looked at Laurel in silence. She waited. He stayed silent. Suddenly, she realised that he was waiting. But she wasn't sure what for. "In other words?" she tried questioningly, wincing.
He nodded before letting go of his hands. As he pointed and signed, Laurel translated aloud to herself.
First, he pointed at himself.
"I."
Next, at his chest.
"Love," she said, making a heart shape with her hands.
Finally, he pointed at her.
"You." Laurel stopped, her jaw dropping a few inches. "Wait.. What?" She signed and spoke back to him slowly, still half in shock.
"You," She pointed to him.
"Love," made a heart shape with her hands over her chest.
"Me?" she pointed at herself.
Eagerly, he nodded.
"In other words," she filled in for him after a moment.
He signed again, pointing to himself, his chest and then at her.
"I love you."

Just A Blip

It's just a blip, it's just a blip, it's just a blip. Alex Murphy had said the same words over and over so many times he'd lost count. He felt like a broken record. The world as he knew it seemed on the verge of imploding. The life he'd built for himself felt like it hinged upon this one moment. This one decision. A decision that wasn't even up to him. 

Alex felt it ironic that he was a Murphy when the fate of his future lay in the hands of Mrs. Murphy. Well, soon to be ex Mrs Murphy. If things had been reversed, he might have thought it a sign in the beautiful lens that was hindsight. He would have beat himself up. He would have convinced himself that he should have seen it coming all along.  

She'd given him a taste of the life he'd always dreamed of. A life he'd longed for. Love, children, family. A life, full and rich. Then, she'd ripped it all away, like pulling a rug from beneath his feet. He'd been left on his knees, reeling as he watched them disappear. 

Somehow, she'd turned him into the bad guy. His life had been turned upside down in an instant. He didn't remember the last time he'd spoken properly to his little girl, or spent quality time with his son. "It's just a blip," he told himself again. And it was. 

His kids were still there, even if he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them. He just had to wait, and let fate run it's course. Because he knew, somewhere, deep down, that this wouldn't last forever. He was just in a blip, but it would go away, and life would be back to normal again. A new normal, maybe. But normal all the same.

One day, he'd look back on this time and remember the hurt and the heartache. He'd remember the fearful what if's that haunted his thoughts and the stress of the weight of all of it, resting upon him. One day, he'd remember all of it and breathe a sigh of relief that it was all over. But he'd smile too, knowing that it'd had to happen. He'd needed the reminder. The reminder that he was stronger than he thought he was. That he was a fighter, and that he could make it through. That no matter how bad it seemed, he would come out on the other side.  

Frozen Heart

As she sat weeping on the floor, the young man stood, arms folded as he scowled at her. “This is illogical,” he said matter of factly.

This snapped the woman momentarily from her sorrow, “What are you?” she asked, the volume of her voice rising. “The tin man?”

The young man stared back at her blankly.

“Were you raised by Vulcans?”  

He said nothing.

The woman continued to stare at him. Jamie stared unseeingly back. His mind raced ahead, trying to process the input and analyse it all for possible meaning. Keeley had been crying. Then, when she had spoken to him, her voice had been louder. She could almost have been growling like a dog. Dogs were mad when they growled. Jamie knew that. So Keeley was mad. He’d told her that what she was doing was illogical. That was true. So why was she angry? All he’d done was tell her the truth….

Oh. Wait. That was it. Right there. He’d told her the truth. You weren’t always supposed to do that, he remembered now. He’d always found the pesky business of emotions tricky. That’s why he’d flipped the switch to turn them off.

“I wasn’t supposed to say that,” he said suddenly, his voice a dull monotone. He stopped himself from adding the question, was I? The question was illogical. There was no point asking when he already knew the answer.

Keeley gasped.

“I wasn’t supposed to say that,” he said again. It sounded exactly the same as the first time he’d said it, as if he was now playing back a recording.

Robbed of speech, Keeley simply nodded, mouth agape.

Jamie’s brows furrowed together as he studied her. Why did she leave her mouth hanging open like that? Was she trying to imitate a koi fish when it saw food? That was also illogical. She was a human being who could feed herself a lot more than tiny, multi coloured pellets.

Jamie turned his head sideways, as if this new perspective would somehow give him the answer. “Why is your mouth open like that?”

Immediately, Keeley shut her jaw, her face growing warm.

Now, her face is going red, thought Jamie to himself. Is she hot? Embarrassed? He paused. That possibility seemed likely. He’d pointed out a non-conventional behaviour. Was that unacceptable? He moved a hand to scratch his head, ruffling his dark brown hair as he did so. He wouldn’t have thought so. In any case, it wasn’t as unacceptable as his earlier action of pointing out that her crying was illogical. The phrase ‘there’s no use crying over spilled milk’ came to mind. Crying would not change the fact that the milk had been spilled. If one cried enough, it may even add to the danger already posed by the existing puddle. Before he knew what was happening, laughter had escaped his lips. His eyes widened as the sound reached his ears, slapping his hand over his mouth. Keeley, continuing to watch him, raised an eyebrow.

Oh no. The clinicians who’d performed the procedure had warned him about this. But he didn’t think it would ever actually happen. Not to him. He was stronger than that. Much more stubborn.

“No one does,” he remembered them saying now, shaking their heads. With what? Pity? Oh no. It was happening!

He felt the heat rising within him as the effect of the flipped switch on his heart started to take effect. He shook his head wildly, scrunching his eyes tightly shut. As if this would make it all stop. Or go away. Or both.

“No!” he wailed, falling to the ground. He reached out as if he could close his fingers around what he’d had a moment ago. But it was only a feeling. And now, there were too many of them. He started to cry as all the emotions he’d erased with the literal flip of a switch came flooding back to haunt him, all at once. Each breath was a shaky gasp as he forced air in and out of his lungs.

“Now who’s the illogical one?” Keeley asked.  Jamie opened his eyes to see her standing over him, hands on hips. Was this… unimpressed? Yes. Keeley was unimpressed. Oh no. It was really coming back.

The wave of pent up emotions hit him, knocking him far beneath the surface. He remembered what it was like to feel unimpressed, annoyed, angry, frustrated. He remembered the headaches that had been caused by stress and anxiety over the tiniest little details. He could almost feel the tension building in his head at the mere thought. He certainly felt the heat. It was all over now, and growing hotter by the minute. He fell down further on to his back on the ground.

“Is there a fire?” he choked out, looking at Keeley’s boots.

“No, I think it’s just you,” she squatted down, her green eyes meeting his. “Sorry.” Her face softened. Pity. Definitely pity.

He remembered feeling pity, and sadness too. The memories felt like someone squeezing his heart. Jamie clutched at his chest, squeezing his eyes shut tight and gritting his teeth hard at the agony. He would not scream. He would not cry. He would not release the emotion that seemed to be threatening to kill him. That would be letting it win.

It felt like he’d been dropped into a pit of molten lava. His flesh was surely burning off. He was on fire. He must be. What other explanation was there? Another jolt of pain coursed through him, pounding in time with his heart. His heart. That was it. He focused on the sensation of his hand on his chest, feeling the thumping rhythm of his heart as he closed his eyes. That was it. His heart. As he paid close attention, Jamie noted that the rhythmic beating seemed to be growing fainter. It was melting. Like an iceblock under the heat of the sweltering summer sun. 

Ice. Cold. He remembered that feeling too. When he’d had the procedure to flip his switch. He’d been so cold. Like he was encased in ice. His heart was encased in ice. That’s how they did it. They froze around the heart. It was a delicate procedure. They had to ensure it could still beat and function properly to sustain life, but shut off transmissions to the emotion’s centre. Flick off his feelings. So at first, he was freezing.

“You’ll get used to it,” they’d told him. “The numbness the cold brings with it will help.” They’d been right. The cold numbness had coated Jamie like a protective second skin, shielding him from sentience.

Jamie gasped. It was that second skin that was melting, he realised, and the frozen casing around his heart. Not his heart itself. Still, he felt he could evaporate into steam from the scorching temperature alone. He shut his eyes again, focusing on the passage of air in and out through his nose and mouth.

The emotions washed over him like a crashing wave hitting the shore. Sadness, anger, fear, frustration. He remembered them all. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter still and longed for the freezing cold numbness of peace.    

You'll See Me Again

I remember all those nights when I cried myself to sleep without you. The pain is less now, but sometimes, I still miss you. There's not a day that goes by that I don't still wish you were here.

That day, I thought you'd gone for good. Never to be seen again. But I heard someone say recently that nothing's truly gone. It's only out of place, and for the first time in a while, a smile crept across my face. That's nicer than thinking I'll never see you again. But it's not easy. None of this is easy.

The tears well in my eyes when your face appears in my mind. It was like I only saw you yesterday, but it's been so much longer than that. Nearly half a year. But then I remember, you're still around, even if you've disappeared from view. You're not gone. Not really. You're just invisible. I feel bad, laughing at the thought. But you would have liked that. It's only a pity that you had to die before you finally got your superpower.

You're around. You're just hiding somewhere, waiting until the day I find you and we see each other again. Because I will see you again. You promised me that. I remember now.  You clasped my hands in yours, and forced me to look at you. I leaned in close to hear your words, your faint whisper the product of all the strength you could muster. A tiny weight rises with the memory, and the realisation that you no longer have that struggle or that frustration. You're free now. Free and invisible.

As pleased as you would have been with it, that pesky superpower is like pinpricks piercing my heart. I'd give anything to be able to see you again. One last laugh, one last talk, one last warm embrace. I say that, everyone who's lost someone says that. But you never want it to be just 'one last'. We all want more. To rewind time and pause with them still here. To stay with them forever.

But you promised me. I'll see you again, you told me. You promised. You'd better believe I'll be holding you to it.

Unseen to the young woman you loved, you sit watching, a stream of tears falling from your eyes. Her pain rubs off onto you, and you feel her hurt as keenly as if it were your own. But through the sadness, you laugh as she embarks on another rant about the superpower you waited for all your life. Yes, I've always wanted a superpower. You reply, another pinprick piercing your heart lightly when you realise she won't hear you. But now that I have one, know I'd give anything to be rid of it. To be with you again. Really with you.

You step forward, closing the space between the two of you with a few short strides. You want to put your arms around her, but she won't feel it if you do. She doesn't even know you're here. Not for certain. Keep believing. I'm just lost, hiding, just like you said. Only out of place. Trust I'll always be here, watching over you. You always said you wanted a guardian angel. You've got one now. So hold on to that promise I made you. Because you know I never break them. You'll see me again. 

Dead To Me

Alex,
You've been in my life for as long as I remember. I don't remember a time without you. You were always there, happy to help or give advice. You laughed, you loved and you shared with me. I've never known life without you in it. I can look back and see a thousand happy memories in the life of you and me. But now, I look back and tears start raining from my eyes.

Now, suddenly, somehow, everything is different. You're different. Once, I would have said I knew you almost as well as I knew myself. But as it turns out, I didn't know anything at all. I don't know if I ever knew you to begin with. I have no idea whether the person I've known for the past twenty years ever existed at all.

I can't take this. One of the few people in my life that I could always count on through thick and thin, vanished into thin air. You're still there, but I don't know this new person claiming to be you. This new person couldn't be further from the you I've known and loved all this time. There's this impostor posing as you. It's like you're possessed. Like some awful monster's taken you over. I hope you're in there somewhere, fighting to be set free. But I don't know if you are. I don't know where you are or if you're ever coming back.

I've tried to write you a thousand times, but the tears always take over. I can't finish. I can't bring myself to do what I know I have to. I don't want to let you go. Really, you took the choice with you when you vanished. I've just been pressing my hands to my ears, screaming. Refusing to hear the truth. I need you to be dead. It would be easier that way. So that's what I'm telling myself. That you're dead. Because you're dead to me now. I don't actually wish you were dead. What kind of person would I be then? But it's easier this way. Because you might not be dead, but the person that I knew is gone. I don't know if you're ever coming back. So, you're dead to me.

I hope there's some miracle someday and you'll be resurrected. But I can't just sit and wait for you forever. The very thought of facing this shadow of you leaves me shaking like a leaf. I haven't seen you since you disappeared. It's better this way. This way, I can remember the you I know and love, without my Alex being tainted by this new shadow of you. As it is, your shadow is lashing out, etching scratches in my skin. Only time will tell if the wounds will fade to scars and heal. All I've ever done is love you. But you aren't you anymore.You're dead. Dead to me. 

So know that I still love you and that I miss you more than you know. I know you're lost right now and it breaks me heart that I don't know where to find you or how to lead you back home. It's all too hard and I can't take it anymore. So I need to pretend that you're dead. Dead to me.

If you do find your way back home, know that I will be over the moon to have you back again. The Alex I know and love, back in my life. Everything right in the world again. I'm happy to forgive you. Because I know that you're not you right now. I hope I'll see you again one day. I hope you'll come back to me. The you I know and love.

But until then, I need to pretend that you're dead. Dead to me. I hope that one day, when you're not lost anymore, you'll understand. That for now, while the monster has taken you over, you're dead to me. It's the way it has to be. It's easier this way. But Alex, I love you. I miss you. Please come back. Please come home.

Sam

Dancing with Wolves

He'd been wandering the forest so long that the lantern he clutched tightly was the only light he had to see by. But he'd wandered so deep that he no longer had any idea where he was anymore. He looked around him, wide eyes trying to locate the source of the howling he could hear somewhere in the distance. He dropped the lantern in fright at the sound of another howl, seemingly louder now.

He turned around, to see two wolves. He tried to run through the small gap betweeen them in a bid to escapem but they were too fast, sidestepping to block his way. The force of his speed as he collided with them knocked him backwards to the ground.

By the time he got back up on his feet, the wolves had him surrounded. He spun around as they circled him slowly. Predators teasing their prey. He ruffled his hands through his hair, racking his brain for something, anything that would help him. And then he saw it. He burst through the weakest side of their makeshift cage and made a break for it.

He made the mistake of turning to see the wolves stalking toward him. Their lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth as they snarled back at him.  He straightened to his full height, hands on hips as he stared them down. A death glare that dared the wolves to come closer. The wolves did not fear him. They came closer still. He stomped and pounded his legs as they approach, releasing any last remnants of fear he had through a physical war cry.

Mere metres from him now, he stared the wolves down. The wolves lunged toward him. But this time, he was ready. He grabbed them firmly in his hands. They tried to drag him backwards, but stronger now, he pulled them forward instead. The three of them, locked in a fierce fight to the death as they moved about. He was thrown between the wolves before the dance continued. The beady eyes of the wolves remained on him at all times, as if to stare him into submission.

Instead, he took charge, throwing the wolves to the ground as he ran, spotting a spear on the ground, He came back swinging, knocking both to the ground in a single full swoop toward them. Clutching the spear just as tightly as he had the abandoned lantern, he threw his head back, a howl of triumph escaping his mouth as the wolves stared up at him from their places on the ground at his feet, a fire ignited in his eyes.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Another installment in the Silent Haunt collection. You can read the start of it all here.

That Quiet Whisper

He spied her across the room and gave her a once over. His eyes lingered on every detail about her. Her long, caramel coloured hair that cascaded down her shoulders in luscious waves. Her eyes, pools of emerald green glittering beneath long, dark lashes.

Just as he spied her, she spied him. She snuck glances in secret, a little scared, not prepared for actual interaction. His dark hair was combed neatly to one side, creating the illusion of a slightly rounded fringe. His sparkling blue eyes bewitched her in a way she'd never been before.

Before she knew it, he was by her side. They chatted away like old friends, despite the fact they'd never laid eyes on one another before that night. There was smiles and laughter. In a cartoon, there would possibly even have been a few sparks too. At the end of the night, they exchanged phone numbers.

She went home and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She studied each and every inch of herself as she worked down. She arched an eyebrow as she widened her focus to see her whole self, not just the different parts, and wondered why. Why had he gone for her? Of all people? There were loads of other girls there.
But why wouldn't he? So quiet, she almost couldn't hear, was a voice to challenge her endless torrent of critiques. And then, her phone dinged with a message.
Hi Shae, I really enjoyed talking with you last night. I'd love to see you again.
That was all it took for the butterflies within to be released to fly around inside. At the same time, there was a tiny little thrill, an excited buzzing that coursed through her filling her with glee.

So she saw him again. There was just as much conversation, smiling and laughter as the time before. Until the truth arose and he ran for the hills. Just like everyone always did. "Why do I even bother?" she asked out loud as she watched him go.
Because, said that tiny whisper, You need to have hope. Hope is important. Hope helps you to keep going and looking. He's out there somewhere
"Who says I've got anyone? Why would I? He could have any girl he wanted. Someone that's not so different. Someone who's not a creep. Why would anyone want a creep?"


It took years for Shae to even start to be ok with herself after so much time feeling like a creep. With so much time of that tiny whisper being so hushed. But eventually, she came to a place where that tiny, quiet little whisper became a little louder, it's message strengthened as she finally started to believe what it was trying to tell her. And with it, the power of the demons that plagued her thoughts was lessened.

Shae had changed. And so had that tiny whisper. Instead of preaching hope, it told her that she was enough. It told her that she didn't need abybody else. Maybe someday, someone else would come. But if that day never arrived, she was enough. Just as she was.

Shae was still a long way from believing what the voice told her, but she listened to it now. It was made stronger by being heard. And she was made stronger by the message it imparted. You are enough. Just as you are.

She Lived

She breezed by, brightening everything and everyone she passed on her way through. Her energy was one unrivaled by anyone. She wasn't just the life of the party. She was the party. She breathed life into people who had forgotten how to live. Places left for dead were brought to life again. She took their hands, lifted them up and guided them with gentle grace. She lived.

She was a bright spark of life. A breath of fresh air. A ray of light to illuminate the darkness. She was a friend to everyone she met. Everyone she met was enchanted by her kindness, her humour and how outgoing she was. She put a stamp on those whose lives she touched. She made her make. She made an impact on the world. She lived.

And now, in the blink of an eye, her light had been snuffed out. With a click of the fingers, she was gone. No one could believe it. How could? A lovely woman so young and full of life as she. How could it be her time to go? Nobody knew. Because there was no good answer. Simply, it wasn't her time. But she'd still gone. The only explanation was that life wasn't fair. But, if it was any consolation, she'd squeezed every little drop of life she possibly could have. She lived.

Even now, when she was gone, there was still life left behind. More life than there had been before she'd come along. She'd made her mark. She'd left behind her a legacy filled to the brim with life. The lives of others being lived to the fullest, reignited by her reminders. She lived. And because of her, others lived too. 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For Jenn. Gone too soon.

Illuminated

She stood before in the dark, her reflection gazing back at her from the mirror before her. Everything about her, and her world, was a dull, drizzly monochrome. She'd become used to it, and developed the ability to distinguish herself apart from her surroundings. Her world had always been this way though. She'd thought it always would be.

She was pulled from studying herself by a bright glimmer over her reflection's shoulder. The brightest sight she'd ever seen. Outside, it was raining. But this rain was unusual. This rain was rainbow. She gasped as she turned around for a better look out the window. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It was so bright. And beautiful. It brought with it a light that illuminated her world in a way it had never been illuminated before. Not only did it illuminate her world, but also the fact that she was the brightest thing in the world.


She turned back to the mirror, seeing herself a new. The colour of her hair, her clothes. Colour in general. "Is that really me?" she asked in a whisper. She leaned in closer to the mirror, her face now mere inches from her reflection. She tapped the mirror, her reflection doing the same. She blinked. Again, her reflection followed suit. And the woman she was seeing, like she'd never seen her before, was still there. "It's really me." She was breathless, gasping for air as she just stared at herself in a mixture of pure shock and awe. "This is really me."

She looked at the world around her. She stuck out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of the monochrome world she'd lived in for so long. Even as the grey started to melt away, as if the rain from outside had washed it away, she was still the brightest thing in the room. She always had been. She just hadn't known it yet. Little did she know, she always would be.

Advice From a Teen Idol

Chris Montgomery had the world at his feet. A world of young women that is. Wherever he went, Ben was followed by a torrent of young teenage girls. His fans male counterparts tried their best to steer clear, plagued by a mixture of jealousy and intimidation.

He sighed as he peered around the door to see the crowd of eager youngsters, practically jumping up and down just with the anticipation of the possibility of catching a mere glimpse of him. He squinted, scanning the crowd once more before looking over them to a bored looking young guy leaning against the brick wall. Chris raised an eyebrow. The young boy looked exactly how he felt. Bored, tired and slightly annoyed, all at once.

Chris turned to one of his security guards. "See that young guy?" he asked. The guard looked over Ben's shoulder, following his gaze to the bored teenager, and nodded. "I'd like to meet him." Immediately, the guard slipped out, heading toward the boy Chris had pointed out.

Chris watched with baited breath as his guard approached. No hope of hearing a single world over the gneral buzz of the teenage girls, he squinted further, testing out whether or not he could lip read. He couldn't. But, he got his answer anyway when the guard turned around, and the young boy followed.

"This is going to sound really odd, but what are you doing here?" Chris asked after introducing himself. "You seem really bored out here, and your're not hyped up like so many of the others."
"I always hang here," said the teenager, Ben. "You just had to come and bring a whole crowd with you."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "Well I'm sorry I'm such an inconvenience."
"What are you doing hiding back here anyway?" Ben asked. "You realise that if you just went out, it'd be over. All you've got to do is rush through the crowd to your limo." The words sounded like acid dripping from the boy's tongue.Toxicity in auditory form.
"Easy for you to say."
Ben shrugged. "The longer you wait, the worse it's gonna get. Just rip it off like a band aid I say."
Chris raised an eyebrow. Never in his life did he think he'd be getting advice from someone younger than him. His eyebrows scrunched together as he studied him more closely. Was he younger? He'd thought so?
"Look man," Ben took off his cap and shook out his hair.
Chris gasped involuntarily. How had he missed this? How had he not known? "Ben Anders," he breathed.
Ben nodded. "Yeah. See, I get it."
Chris was in shock. Back in his day, Ben Anders had been just as much of a household name among young teenage girls as Chris was then. And he didn't seem to have aged much at all. "Imagine all the mothers if you and I went out there together," he said, chuckling.
"We'd have all the girls going crazy then," Ben quipped.
Chris shook his head as he considered the reality of it. "No. I couldn't. I can hardly stand the thought of going out there now, let alone if everyone was all over us."
"Don't let the fear stop you," said Ben, clapping him gently on the shoulder. "I remember being your age. One day, they'll forget and you can just go back to doing what you do best. But this is how it is at the beginning."
"So how did you get through it?"
"I said, 'I want to do something with my life'. When my time here is up, I don't want to look back and see that I didn't do anything." As he spoke, Chris was nodding attentaively. Ben had him in the palm of his hand. "I see a lot of people that let their lives happen to them. I want to happen to my life."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In memory of Luke Perry. I knew him best as Fred Andrews in Riverdale.. R.I.P.

The Greatest Show

The older butterfly swatted his wing tips in the air, waving away the comment like it was nothing. "Oh Darling," he said, "It's all an act. Just one big show." He leaned forward toward the young caterpillar before continuing. "The greatest show, in my opinion. If anyone were to ask."
The young caterpillar gasped.
"Looks can be deceiving, my Dear." He leaned in closer still, so that his face was mere inches from the young caterpillar's. "Besides, when it all comes down to it, which are you going to pick? Laugh or cry?"

In truth, the older butterfly tried his hardest to strive for the former. But at the end of the day, when he was left all alone, the tears he'd resisted came pouring out. They rained down like a gushing waterfall, his only saving grace that there was no one there to see. "I'm such a hypocrite!" he wailed, gazing up toward the sky, where clouds were rolling in. He hovered back and forth, the winged insect's equivalent of pacing, as he chattered away to himself. "I tell everyone else how they must take the leap. Yet I can't bring myself to even peer over the edge. I tell the anxious young caterpillars how wonderful it will be when they have wings, yet I've never embraced my own..."

Years later, the older butterfly gazed down upon his reflection in the lake, seeing the backdrop of the night sky behind him, lit with a thousand stars.  His tears, fewer and farther between, met the lake water with a gentle plop as they fell. "I'm scared." he finally admitted in a whisper so quiet even he could hardly hear himself. "So scared."
"Scared?" a voice echoed. The older butterfly spun around, his heart beating quickly in time with his wings. He blinked, seeing his niece emerging from the shadows, now a butterfly, just like him. He darted in a quick circle; up, down, side to side before settling once more in his original position. "What are you doing here?"
"You weren't home," she said simply. "I came to check on you. Good thing I did." She flew closer and was at his side in a moment. She met his reluctant gaze with a gentle firmness. "Everything ok?"
"I'm scared," he said again. When his niece did not say anything, the older butterfly continued. "of everything. This whole time, I've been a hypocrite. I'm scared to step into the light. To take the big leap of faith. I'm scared of everything. Of everyone. What if they judge me? What if they hate me?"
"What if they don't?" asked his niece. "What if everyone thinks you're wonderful?"
Her uncle scoffed. "Yes, because that's really going to happen."
"Why wouldn't it?"
"What about me," he asked, swirling around, "says 'wonderful' to you?"
His niece opened and closed her mouth several times, at a loss for words. In that moment, she feared too. She knew her uncle would take it the wrong way, would take it as proof if she failed to say anything, but she wasn't entirely sure of what to say either. "No one's ever liked me. Why would they start now?" The older butterfly asked, filling the silence.
His niece sighed. "Uncle, that was years ago. Things have changed. People love you. You're the most respected elder in the whole kaleidoscope, especially among the caterpillars. Why can't you see that?"
"Because I don't know how to," said the older butterfly, raising his eyes to meet hers. "My whole life, I've expected hatred and rejection. It's been drilled into me. It's not like I can suddenly turn it off like you do with a light switch. I don't know how to not expect everyone not to reject me or hate me. As much as I'd love to expect the opposite, I've no idea how to make myself believe."
His niece spoke quietly. "So you put on this act, this big show,"
"The greatest show," the older star interjected, causing them both to chuckle.
"The greatest show," she continued, "to fool everyone into thinking you're the complete opposite to what you actually are."
The older butterfly's wings fluttered his agreement. "I'd love to laugh not because the alternative is crying a river, but because I want to laugh." He sighed. "Maybe one day."

Father Kane's Final Act Short Film Tribute

In honour of the wonderful Sir John Hurt's birthday, I'd like to share a short film tribute made in his memory. If you watch right to the end, regular readers of my blog may recognise a familiar face or two toward the end!

It should be noted that I am by no means a professional in the world of film making- I just do it for fun, and to honour and remember some of those I admire.

With that said, you can watch the short film below and read the original story here. I hope you enjoy them!

The Little Fairy

Nestled in the tallest tree, on the edge of the highest hill is the tiniest house surrounded by a beautiful garden abundant with beautiful blooms. Our house. Here, my two sisters and I live in our true and smallest form. We flutter about, our blue wings glittering in the sunlight that streams in through the window. Though we zoom about so quickly you'd miss us if you were to blink. It is the perfect viewing platform to gaze upon the humans going about their days in the town below.

I catch my little sister in her near-human form standing by the edge of the cliff, by the pretty little spring squill flowers one morning, doing exactly that, watching as they went about their day in the town below, oblivious to our existence  not too far away.
“What are you doing Aislie?” I asked, coming to stand behind my sister on the cliff's edge.
The humans are fascinating, don’t you think?” she asked, unable to tear her eyes from them.
“Mmm… I suppose you could say that,” mused Aisling softly. She inhaled deeply, finally tearing her eyes away to meet my gaze. “But I don’t know that humans are that different from us."
I raised an eyebrow in question, turning to the humans below.
“But, I wouldn’t want to actually be one of them," said Aisling.  "I mean, I love my wings too much to ever part with them.” She brushed her fingers loosely over her wings. I did the same, closing my eyes to revel in their soft, silken feel. Delicate as a flower petal.
I glanced back at Aisling, who had returned her attention back to the town below. “I do wish, sometimes, that I could be part of their world.”
“Don’t let Aoife hear you say that."
Aisling chuckled. "Who wouldn't want that kind of freedom, Orla?" she asked. "To not have to hide. Freedom to love, to play, to live a wonderful life." I could understand Aisling's longing. Our life as fairies did come with a lot of complaints. But, I was also familiar with the intensity of Aoife's hatred for humankind and the lengths she would got to to punish them if she suspected one had crossed a line.
"You can laugh Aisling," I said, searching her eyes for some hint of comprehension of the seriousness of what I was telling her. "But you wouldn't be laughing if Aoife actually did something. She has before, I wouldn't be surprised if she did it again." To put it lightly, our older sister was not a fan of humankind.

Below, a flash of colour caught my eye. Quickly, I scanned the crowd in search of it. When I found it again, I realised it’s one of us. But not just any one of us. I honed in on the butterfly blur to realise I recognised the shade of bright royal blue. Aoife!
“Ee..fa!!” Aisling growled through gritted teeth beside me. “What does she think she’s doing?”
“Aislie, I don’t think it’s a good idea to…” I threw an arm out to stop her, but it was already too late. I'd missed the vacuum zip sound and her swift spin that preceded a transformation into our more butterfly-like form. She now raced down toward the humans after Aoife. I sighed before spinning into my own butterfly fairy form  and flying off after my sisters.

I caught up with Aisling among the crowd. She darted through the humans unnoticed, still in search of Aofie. “Aislie. Just let her be!” My pleading came out as a pathetic, high-pitched squeal. Any fairy’s voice would when in their butterfly fairy from. It had to be, so the humans wouldn’t hear us. It's too high-pitched for them to hear, though it's still audible to fae-kind.
“No! I can’t. She mustn’t hurt them!” Aisling cried.
“Aislie,” I said between puffs. “Would you just stop? For a minute? Please?”
Mercifully, she paused and I panted a thank you. “You know Aofie. She’s a trickster. All she’ll do will be prank them. Not unless they’ve done something to tick her off..” I searched her tiny, beady eyes for any hint to the affirmative.
“What is it Aisling?”  I know my sister well enough to know there’s something going on.
“There might be someone among the humans…”
I gasped. “Aisling, you didn't... you haven't... You haven't actually done anything, have you?"
“Orla, he doesn’t know I exist!" She whined. "I like to watch him, is all. I… I might even like him.” Aisling's glow intensified as she said this, and she tried to shrink herself into invisibility from everyone, even me. It didn't work.
“Ohhoho.” I said. “If Aofie ever found out…”
“That’s the thing Orla,” Aisling cried, quivering. Even with her voice as a high pitched squeak, I could still hear the urgency in her tone. “What if she knows?”

I wanted to tell her that if she hadn’t done anything, it would be fine. But not with our sister. If she had even so much as a sneaking suspicion, there would be hell to pay. More for him. But poor Aisling would still get a fiery lecture from Aofie. If that was it, it would be best case scenario.
By then, Aisling had taken off again, and I followed at lightening speed, keeping my eyes peeled for any flashes of bright blue.

Finally, we located Aofie amongst a group of young human men playing ball on the beach and dragged her, just about kicking and screaming back to our clifftop, where we change back into our human-like forms in safety. I held her back by the arms as she screamed at Aisling.
“They’re no good Aisling! Don’t you remember what happened to our parents? Did no one ever tell you about the curse in our family?”
“Did no one ever fill you in on the historical peace treaty between humankind and us fae?” Aisling shouted back, angry tears falling from her eyes.
“What about the clause where we go to war if they hurt one of us?”
Letting go of Aoife, I rushed over to Aisling to whisper urgently in her ear. “Aislie. Think before you speak."
I stepped back, taking up the space between them as Aisling’s tears fell harder and faster than before.
“He didn’t hurt me though Aoife!” She yelled, her wings pulsing. “He doesn’t even know I exist!”
“Good!” Aoife snapped, turning on her heel and stalking off. I stood there a moment, frozen. Torn between my two sisters. Angry Aoife or poor, anguished Aisling, crying a river around us. If she’d stood right at the cliff’s edge, she could have made a waterfall, her tears pooling on the beach below.
I turned to Aisling, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. “All Aoife sees is what happened to our parents. She’s still mad at the humans for stealing them away from us.”
“What did the humans do?” Aisling asked, looking up at me through her long, dark lashes. “I don’t remember.”
“You wouldn’t. You were very small.” I gulped, trying to conjure the mental strength to tell the tale. “We don't like to talk about it. Our parents were tortured and killed at the hands of humankind.” I say, glancing over to the beach, the humans gathered there. I felt a burning sensation as I remembered. But it melted again when I looked at the soft innocence that was my sweet little sister.
“Really?” she asked, her voice a quiet whisper.
“Yes Aislie. Humankind feared us. They drowned our father in a lake. They forced him to the bottom with a stone tied to his leg. By the time he came free, he’d almost reached the surface when the lake froze over.”
Aisling gasped and a fresh round of tears began to fall from her eyes.
I cried a little too, breathing deep before I continued. “They tore off our mother’s wings and the witches stole her memories.” Once again, my gaze turned briefly to the humans below. “She may still be out there somewhere, but she wouldn’t remember us. After all this time, it's more likely that she died too.”

Aisling sniffed and wiped her eyes with her arm. “The humans can’t be all bad though. That was years ago.”
“It was,” I conceded. “But now, Aoife fears them. Though she'd rather fight than be defeated. Other than that, she steers clear. She doesn’t want us to suffer the same fate as our parents. She's afraid that should we get too close, we too will be tortured. Just like they were. If there's any sign that a human will cross the line, she wants to punish them.”
“I don’t know, Orla. Danny doesn’t seem the kind to do anything like that.”
“How would you know?” I pulled away to study her.
“I’ve seen him down at Luna Lake,” said Aisling. “Late at night. With Whisper. He’s so gentle with him, and patient.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You can never be too careful with humans.” I wasn’t as hell bent on revenge as Aoife, but I couldn’t bring myself to be as trusting as Aisling either...

Aisling crossed her arms. “Fine! I’ll prove it to you. What do I need to show you that will make you believe me?”
I opened and closed my mouth several times, not sure of an answer. I never got the chance before she transformed again and flew off.

-O0O-

Danny wasn't the most attractive looking man I had ever lied eyes on. His hair had not been groomed and hung down to his shoulders in an untangled mess. Nevertheless, I almost squealed at the sight of him by the lake, extending his hand out to Whisper, an old friend of our family. One could even say he's something of a guardian to my sisters and I. He looks out for us and is always there should we need assistance. He stood tall, his dark frame almost invisible in the shadows, though his pearl white horn shone brightly in the moonlight.
Whisper approached me the moment Danny moved on to fish in the water nearby. “What are you doing here, young filly?” he asked, nuzzling his horn against me. “Should you be out this late?”
I flew away, hovering invisibly around Danny, knowing Whisper’s gaze will follow me before I returned to him.
“You like him, don’t you?” Whisper asked.
I flapped my wings in confirmation.
Whisper shook his head and tutted. “Oh dear. Star crossed loves under a starry sky.”
“But what do you think Whisper? Is he good?”
“He’s not the kind like those your parents encountered,” he said.

Whisper, it suddenly dawned on me, had been the one who’d borne witness to our father’s demise all that time ago.
My mouth dropped open as realisation set in. “Whisper, is this the lake where…”
“Your father was frozen? I’m afraid so, young filly.” He glanced momentarily at the lake. “I’m sorry.”
“Whisper… Do you think. Do you think father is down there somewhere?”
“He may be. Down in the depths perhaps. I wouldn’t know. Although the lake is magical. They made your poor mother watch, and her tears began the waterfall, enchanting the waters here. Not that she would know it now.”

I returned my attention to Danny, approaching him unafraid, but knowing I am invisible to him like this. I watched as he interacted with Whisper. I witnessed his kindness, his patience, his generosity and his gentleness.
Whisper nodded his approval at me, as we hid behind a bush. “I will not go anywhere, young Filly,” he said softly. “I will protect you, should anything happen.”
I spin with glee, up into the air and down again. “Thank you.”

I hurried back behind the bush to change. I was about to step out, revealing myself, before I stopped. I reached back, feeling my delicate blue wings. I had no idea how to hide them. The last thing I wanted was to frighten him away. I breathed deeply. This would truly be a test. Of my courage, and his kindness.

Danny tore his gaze away from the water when the cracking of branches beneath my feet sounded behind him. “Hi there,” he said. His voice was soft, and silky smooth. Like my wings.
“What brings you out here?”
“It’s my favourite place,” I say. “My secret hideaway. I love the lake and the lotuses that float upon it. I come here to see my friend. Though he’s only here when the moon shines down upon us.”
Danny glanced toward Whisper. “You know him?”
I nodded. “Do you?”
“He seems scared of me,” Danny answered as Whisper retreated several paces.
“His kind often are,” I said. “Humans have ripped their horns from them, just as they’ve stolen our wings.” I spoke without thinking, the words past my lips before I realise what I had said. What I’d done.
“Wings?” Danny gasped. He appeared to be in a permanent state of awed shock, though I supposed you couldn’t expect much else from a human in his position.
I froze in place as he circled me, mouth agape.
“Are you an angel?” he asked. He blinked, briefly looking at Whisper again. “And he, is he your magical steed? Only… I’ve never seen you here before..”
“I appear when I choose to.”
“So why now?”
“I need help.”
“From me?” Struck dumb with disbelief, Danny pointed questioningly at himself. I nodded again.
“What is it?”
“My father, is trapped, frozen, at the bottom of the lake. Will you help me find him?” Without any words, Danny removed his clothing and dove into the lake.

I knelt at the lake's edge, staring into the clear blue water after him as if I could see through it. As if I could track Danny's explorations in the depth below. Just as my eyes seemed to glaze over, I felt the tip of Whisper's horn on my shoulder, pulling me back, and looked up to see his kind eyes gazing back at me as he stood beside.
"I can sense your apprehension, young filly. Have faith," he said. "I'm sure your Father will be down there somewhere." I smiled as Whisper stroked me with his horn, as gently and tenderly as he possibly could. I vaguely remembered my father stroking my hair in much the same way when I was a small girl and felt tears spring into my eyes at the memory.

Finally, Danny emerged, panting and gasping for breath. I gasped along with him as he swam toward Whisper and I on the lake's edge.
“I think he’s down there. I saw something like what you were describing. It looked like a statue.”
I felt my breath hitch in my throat.
“Could you get him for me?” As if under my spell, Danny obediently dove back beneath the water. He took longer beneath the surface this time before he finally returned, coughing and spluttering. Awkwardly, he heaved the statue of my father behind him. "Your Dad's really bloody heavy," he groaned as he trudged through the lake toward us. I hurried to meet him and help him back up onto the bank. "Well, he is kind of stone cold right now," I said, eliciting a chuckle from Danny.
Whisper was right behind us, somehow managing to help heave my father's statue up onto the lake's edge.

“Thank you,” I said. Before I realised what I was doing, I leapt into the air, hovering at his height and pressed my lips against his, closing my eyes to revel in the sweet taste of his kiss.

As we pulled apart, I heard an angry buzzing and turned to see two blue lights approaching us. My sisters had come to join us. I could almost imagine Aoife’s death glare, glad that she was too frightened of humans to transform and direct it at me. She buzzed around my head instead, a high pitched scream deafening my ears.

Orla, meanswhile, had noticed the statue of our father, lying on the ground beside a dumbstruck Danny, and hovered around it, closely inspecting it. She transformed, going to rest beside our frozen father and stroking his stony hair.
“It’s him,” she confirmed tearily. This seemed to calm Aoife somewhat, who disappeared behind the bush. She stalked far enough out to reach me, dragging me back behind her.
“What do you think you were doing?”
“Proving to you that not all humans are like the ones who tortured our parents.”
Aoife sighed heavily. She couldn’t disagree.

I watched, open mouthed as she stalked from her safe cover over to Danny, and hovering in mid air as she pulled him toward her by the shirt, so close their foggy breath mingled in the cold night air.

“You,” she said. “Had better not do anything to harm my sisters, or my family or I will kill you.” I shuddered, knowing she really would. “Understand?”

At Your Own Expense

Bailey emerged from the dark unknown to stand under the harsh gaze of the spotlight. He squinted as he peered out to see how big the crowd was tonight. He was in a small town, and as must be expected, it was small. Internally, he shrugged. What more could you expect?

Amara sat a few rows back and watched her friend appear on stage, take his place behind the microphone and quickly describe himself as a 'single, chubby guy who tells jokes'. Her eyebrows scrunched together as the description played over in her head. But it wasn't playing on a loop for long, because the description, particularly the little word in the very middle came up again. And again. And again. Amara watched in horror as Bailey referred to himself as 'chubby', again and again, and again as he moved through his set. She looked him up and down, and frowned. He was, by no definition of the word, definitely, most certainly not chubby. An eyebrow rose as she thought to herself. But you're just normal.. You're not chubby at all. You're... You're healthy. Besides, why does that have to be your defining charectistic?

The simple answer: It isn't. At least, it shouldn't be. Okay, maybe Bailey wasn't quite as stick skinny as society seems to expect nowadays, but he wasn't the biggest person Amara had seen either. Anyway, what sort of message was it sending to the kids of the world if society expected people to be no wider than one's pinky finger?

After his set was over, Amara stayed in her seat long after everyone else had left. Bailey had left his jacket out on the chair on stage. Surely, he'd come back to collect it. She sat quietly in her seat and waited, her eyes trained on the empty stage.

Amara wasn't sure how much time had passed before Bailey finally re-emerged on stage. She clapped politely at his entrance, a big smile on her face. Bailey jumped at the sound before squinting out to see Amara rising from her seat in the second row. "Amara?"
"Hi Bailey."
"Amara! I can't believe you're here! I haven't seen you in ages!"
"I saw your name on posters and thought it time for a little reunion. But Bailey, I have to ask, why did you keep referring to yourself as 'chubby' tonight? Because you're not, you know. And it shouldn't be your defining factor."
"Aww shucks," said Bailey with a small chuckle, waving his hand in the air as if to swat a fly. "It's a joke."
Amara raised an eyebrow. "At your own expense?"
Bailey simply shrugged. "It's my job to make people laugh, Amara."
"Surely, there's other things you can joke about without getting laughs at your own expense."
"I'm alright, Amara, if that's what you're worried about."
Amara nodded, folding her arms across her chest. "Well, so long as it doesn't bring you down. Just as long as you don't really believe that there's a problem. Because there isn't. You are perfectly healthy, and perfectly fine just as you are."

Shatter

Stella was glued to the screen. The dancer she watched jerked sharply from one side to the other like two people were trying to pull her to their side. As if she were the rope in a game of tug of war. Stella gaped. Suddenly, it all made sense. Yet it didn't. But the confusion she felt was just like that. Just like she were the rope in a game of tug of war between two people she loved dearly. Two people between whom she didn't want to choose. She looked at them both in turn. The best friend she'd grown up with, and her partner, who had been around as long as Stella could remember. The partner she'd come to love just as much as her best friend. She looked at them both, her eyes pleading. Please, she wanted to scream. Please don't make me choose. Please just let me be. Stella wanted nothing more than for the game to be over. To be allowed to fall in the centre, on the neutral line that was on the side of no one. But, it was no use, the rope was being pulled with equally harsh force from both sides. Soon, Stella was sure, it would snap. Then she would be forced onto a side.

It had seemed her perfect little world had been contained within a snow dome. Except the protective glass barrier had shattered, and she was suddenly exposed to the elements. Her world as she knew it had shattered along with that glass. Stella was left standing among the wreckage, searching desperately for something familiar. Something she knew, that she could cling on to for dear life until the Earth stopped shaking around her. Until the world was normal again. Except, Stella got the feeling it wouldn't ever be normal. 

Her friend had changed since the shattering. Things between them had changed. He wasn't the same person Stella remembered growing up with. She couldn't remember things being this awkward between them.Stella struggled not to squirm as she was made to sit and listen to him badmouth her. She'd never heard her friend talked about in this light before. She'd never heard either of them spoken badly of before now. She'd heard their other friends complained about plenty of times before, but Joe and Whitney had always been the golden couple. Even when everything else seemed to be falling apart, they stood together. They were the couple that made you believe in love. Until now. Now, the world really was falling apart. Everything was starting to shatter and Stella wasn't sure how to fix it again. She wasn't sure of anything, if she was really honest.

Yet, still, a small part of her hoped that one day the glass around her little world would be rebuilt. She wasn't sure how or when, nor how her world would look. But, she held out hope that somehow, someway, her world would be rebuilt, and both Joe and Whitney would be in it.