Part

One glance was enough to understand why no one stayed longer. Not only was her appearance off-putting, it made her seem out of place too. Had her plane from some other Halloween themed world crash landed, stranding her here? That was the story going around, but no one knew if it was the truth. That would have required not only approaching her, but interacting with her. Something none of the townspeople seemed game enough to do. 

"I'm not a psycho..." she'd try, but her whispers fell on deaf ears. The townspeople had made up their minds, and they didn't want anything tainting their version of her story. 

"But it's my story," she cried to herself, alone in her little house on the edge of town. "Shouldn't I get to decide it? If they'd give me a chance, they'd see." She sighed, looking out the window at the flowers growing. The flowers knew, even if no one else did. The flowers knew. That's why they bloomed for her and only her. 

The townspeople felt the flowers' selective blooming made her a witch. And definitely a bad witch, judging by her looks alone. Because that was all they allowed themselves to see. Her looks were enough, according to the townspeople. More than enough. 

Sometimes, she watched the children play from the safety of her home. She knew they'd run away if they saw her. She didn't want to make anyone cry. The last things she wanted was to scare anyone. But she liked the children. It wasn't their fault they feared her. It was the stories their young minds had been fed that fuelled the fear they felt. It wasn't their fault. 

But it did make her wish. That she could be part of things like that, rather than spectating from the sidelines. Maybe one day, someone would stop long enough to look part her exterior and really see her. Maybe one day, someone would take a chance on her. Then, her wish would come true. She'd be part of it. Could it be you?

The Siren's Sanctuary

 The darkness had ceased to exist. Because that was all there was now. Black. The perfect canvas for mind demons to run wild, and to rule. All that is left now is that small, voice that whispers in your ear. Part of you knows it means you harm. But that's only part of you. A very small part. 

That voice is a siren. Dangerous, yes, but also irresistibly alluring. The siren is just speaking the truth, after all. It's not telling you anything new. Only what you already know. Black is all there is now. Dark. But the dark, and the shadows, are a comfort. Because they allow you a place to hide. It feels safer in the dark, even if it is cold as ice. 

You don't want colour anymore. The colours are too bright. So bright, they seem sure not just to blind, but to burn as well. Here in the black, the concrete cold numbs any pain you might've felt otherwise. Pain you know well. You've felt it before, and you have no desire to revisit those sharp, stinging sensations again. 

The longer you stay in this blackness, the quieter the siren seems to become. Until the siren falls silent completely. The lack of noise... the absence of the siren's whisperings, are not things you're used to. It's a little disorientating to begin with, but you soon grow used to it. Even come to relish it. The siren doesn't say anything anymore because they don't need to. You've willingly joined their cool dark sanctuary, and it has become yours too. Your cool, dark, solitary and silent sanctuary.  

Under...Stand

 Though the air was icy, it was the soothing kind of cold rather than the kind that felt painful. She was grateful for that. Everyone around her seemed to be experiencing the painful kind of cold. The soothing cold allowed her to help her loved ones struggling through pain. "It's ok," she'd say. "I can take it. I can handle it." And she could. Until all of a sudden (or so it would seem), she couldn't. Because all of a sudden, she'd fallen under too. 

She started to tremble as the weight on her shoulders grew. She looked around, hoping the same support she'd given out may now be repaid. But alas, those who would normally help in return seemed to have disappeared. Others around those struggling seemed completely blind and apparently oblivious to the struggle. As if it wasn't going on at all.

Or, did those others around her think she could handle it just fine? Because she always did? Or was that just how it looked from the outside? How it seemed? Sure, she might have buckled and bent over backwards sometimes. But she didn't break. Right? At that question, she wanted to scream, or at the very least, raise an eyebrow. How could they know that? How could they be sure? Because behind closed doors, beneath the surface, hiding inside, she had started to break. 

Inside, she was breaking. And no one seemed to notice. If they did, she had to wonder if they cared. Because no one was doing anything. Unless she were mistaken, it seemed they felt it was ok for her to fall. Maybe, they needed her to fall. Maybe, the sound of her crashing would snap them out of whatever was distracting them. Maybe then, their eyes would be opened and they'd see. 

Or maybe, just maybe, they'd fallen too. Maybe, everyone was succumbing to the cold, the same way as those before her. The same as she had. If that was the case, couldn't they all support each other? Stand together? Maybe struggling and shaky, but standing nonetheless? 

A rush of cool air hit her as she something, or rather someone, someones, either side of her to help support her standing. The people she'd longed for had reappeared to stand by her, soft smiles on their faces. I'm here. I see you, they seemed to say. I've got you. 

She slipped an arm around each of them, unable to help but smile back. "And I've got you."     

It Will Be...

For such three small words, there were a vast array of reactions; 

vigorous head shaking; 

"... but..."

"... no it won't"; 

"... but... it's anything but.." 

The ending you were actually going for was; …ok. So the sentence as a whole read; It will be ok.  

"But it won't be," she says again, tears trailing the well worn track from her eyes. "it's anything but." 

"I know," you say. "I know it feels that way." 

"It feels that way..." You can't help tensing at the way their voice grows louder with each word. "It feels that way because that's the way it is." 

You take a breath, mustering every ounce of patience you can find. "Right now." You pause for another breath. "But it might not always be that way. Do you think that just maybe, sometime soon, it might just be ok?" 

She shrugs. It's not complete acceptance, but it's not flat out refusal either. It's something in between. It's something, and you'll take it. 

"I think that it will be," I say. "I think that it will be ok." 

This Little World, All Our Own

My hand sits outstretched in the space between us. I wish it was in theirs. Touched. Held close. But that's too great a risk. 

I'd like to be able to sit beside them and cuddle up tight. Lean in against them. Maybe have their head on my shoulder. Together. Closer. But that's a risk too. 

The only choice I seem to have, the  furthest I feel I can go, is to allow myself to get lost in the peridot green of their eyes, and their eyes in mine. Even that feels like a risk. But it's a risk we take. We can't take a step further. That's too much of a risk. But this, this we can do. To have no connection at all hurts too much. Even this feels painful. But we settle, because it's what we have. 

On the seat across from me, my beautiful partner sighs. I focus again on their eyes and scan them. Seeing me see them, a small smile cracks their straight lined lips. We both know. We both wish. I feel a renewed ache spread through my arm toward the arm outstretched on the seat between us and sigh in unified sympathy and sorrow.  

Stealing a glance at the driver in the front seat, my partner inhales, shaky but deep. Slowly but surely, their fingers inch their way toward mine. They settle their hand mere metres from mine. Close but not quite close enough. 

Our eyes lock on each other's again. There is a slither of comfort in our shared fantasy; a space that's just us. A world all our own. A place where we can get close without fear of judgement. Where we can be together without feeling any tension. A place where we get to be us. Really, truly us. 

My beautiful partner is this place, and I know I am theirs. Alone, together, we are there. Accompanied, together, like now, we imagine ourselves there. Always, we share and hold the daydream together. This wonderful space where there is no risk, no judgement and no tension. We also hold on to our silly little hope that one day, this will just be the world. Where anyone can be, no matter who they are, no matter who they love. People are just people, after all. And love is love. I know this, and they know this. All too well. There are many out there like us, who all know just as well as we do. But, there are others who have no idea. Those others are why my partner and I have this little world, all our own. This little world, all our own, that we can go to whenever we'd like. This little world, all our own, where we can just be. This little world, all our own, where we are free.