Pink In The Air

When the days begin to be filled with more warm sunlight than blue fingers and hot chocolate, the flowers bloom and the world welcomes the newly hatched birds. The newly hatched birds that fill the sky with their colorful feathers and sing to the tune of new love in the warm summer air. The birds that turn the sky into their own private dance floor in their attempt to find a mate.

And just when the air switches from a comfortable cold breeze to a suffocating tight warm hug, I glance down at your head cuddled into my shoulder as you mourn the days filled with pink noses and scarfs. Mourn the days filled with walks down the beach as the cold air dances around us, instead of the condensation from the multiple bodies attempting to cool off in the cold ocean. And just when your body heat overheats my skin, I glance down at your content smile and sparkling eyes that melt all the uncomfortableness away, leaving only happiness for I have you by my side. I smile down at you, hoping for this to never end.

I take your rough hand into my soft ones, guiding you out of the couch and into our own private dancefloor, the tiny kitchen of our overpriced apartment. I take your trembling hand, twirling you back and forth in the small space provided. I spin you around once, twice, ten times, basking in the way your hair flies around us. Basking in the way your trembles go away leaving only a bright smile behind. A smile that reminds me of a younger you from the childhood photos your grandmother showed me behind your back. You know the ones, where you wanted bangs so bad that you took it upon yourself to create them with kitchen scissors. You had the brightest smile ever with your choppy bangs. A smile so tender that I’ll risk my life to protect and never let it dull.

I take your hand in mine and a flashlight in the other as I guide you down the allies to welcome the moon every warm summer night because I know how close you two are. Because I know how the moon consoled you in your darker days when you couldn’t get out of bed. Because I know how in love you are with the moon’s jokes, even if you don’t speak her language. Because I know that the moon worries if she goes a night without seeing you, I guide you outside even if I have to carry you when your legs are too exhausted to take another step. I guide you outside, even if you have to cover your tear-stained face because you don’t want her to see how much of a hard time you are having. I guide you outside because I know how much calmer you’ll be after seeing her.

When the birds switch their dancing shoes for construction shoes, you take my hand, guiding me outside my dark room into the colorful world, that I often forget about. You guide me outside to bid goodbye to the departing birds because you know I won’t forgive myself if I missed it. You take my hands in yours, using your thumb to caress my tears away because you know how hard goodbyes are for me, after having to say it one too many times. You take my hand as you stand silently by my side as I sob myself to sleep. Never judging or offering words of consolation because you know that in times like this all I need.

When brushing my hair becomes too hard, you take the brush from the floor, brushing it for me. You brush it, never letting it form nots or dry out, because you know how much my hair means to me. You force my limbs to move because you know how much my eyes depend on constant movement for full blood circulation.  You feed me boiled vegetables and smoothies every day when my skin pales knowing that I have neglected my wellbeing. You always know what I need. You always know before me when my skies are about to become stormy. You are always there for me and for that I am grateful.

And before we know it, the skies begin to darken faster, and our noses turn pink once again. We take each other on walks on the allies sharing jokes with the moon because somehow, we three have formed a new language that will be in history books. A language that will be immortal, for the moon will never let it die after our departure. For the moon will always remember us. Will always remember how deeply we loved one another.

I take your gloved hand in mine as we dance together in the snowy dancefloor, with all the birds watching from inside their homes. We dance until out coats are too warm and uncomfortable, but we don’t care and keep on dancing. I trip and you pull me up laughing. You trip and I fall with you, never letting you embark on a journey, no matter how small, on your own. Because I know that you hate solo journeys the most.

When the moon and the sun meet each other halfway, I bring you close weaving my fingers through your hair as yours do the same to mine. Locking eyes, I see the sparkle that I love so much. Bringing our pink noses close, we smile brightly as the moon brightens our dancefloor.

To be together is our greatest gift.

The First Step

He screamed until he could no longer remain conscious. He screamed out of pain from the puncture wounds on his neck. He screamed scratching his attacker over and over again ‘til his fingers bled. He screamed out for help. Screamed out of pain but no one heard him. No one heard him, not even the people passing a few feet from him.
Tossing his body aside, Izumi licks her blood-stained fingers clean, “young ones, always making a fuss” she complains. Glancing down at her ripped lace sleeve she frowns, “Aw man! I loved this shirt”
Putting her black fuzzy jacket back on, she ensures that the body is seated upright with all his wounds healed, before leaving the alley. Pretending to shiver, She zips up her jacket as while making her way between the humans dressed in various costumes varying from sexy to adorable. She holds in her laugh at the ones dressed as ‘vampires’ wishing she could just tell them that vampires have never worn a cape unless it was to make a fashion statement. But they look so adorable with all the red paint running down their mouths and white paint on all their exposed skin. Today was Halloween, or at least that’s what humans called it anyway. For her, today was feeding day and her would-be-one hundredth anniversary with her only lover. But one can never have two things at once: either you are well fed and healthy, or you are in the company of a lover, or if you are fortunate enough, you’ll have a family. But never all. That was the rule of life. You always have to give something up to get something else, that way you don’t become greedy and never forget what it means to have a soul.
Getting bored of human watching, Izumi speeds back home ensuring that no human eye can see her. Home, that used to be just a human dream she desired to have so badly. Home used to be something she dreamed off and wrote about in napkins she burned after. She wished to have something to call hers that wouldn’t die, get old, or be unfixable. But now after 35 centuries, she is able to call her small cottage home. Now after painful solitude she had a physical place to call her. Now there is no need to be on the move every day. She can buy decorations and expand her wardrobe without worrying about what she was willing to leave behind. She can now have a couch and mugs to drink warm blood out of. But despite having a permanent home, she misses the days filled with running away holding on to her lover’s warm hands. She misses the nights filled with those violet sparks coming from within him every time he would open a portal to a new city, pull-out dinner, or a new dress for her to wear. Those days were never filled with easiness, but she felt so calm by his side. He was the only source of warmth for her cold limbs. He was the reminder that she had a heart, not a beating one, but one that could still feel. That can still love. But he is gone now. ‘It’s better this way anyway’ she reminds herself, ‘Vampires are not supposed to mix with warlocks or anyone for that matter”
Pausing at the crossroad between her path home and down memory lane. She opts for a detour seeing as today was so special. Enchanting the grave watcher into dreamless sleep, She walks down the path she knows too well admiring the shiny stars and the aroma of dead and freshly changed flowers. On days like this when the stars are at their brightest, the human stay away from their dead love ones. ‘silly humans always making shortcoming decisions’ Izumi thinks wishing she too were as silly as those breakables and dying humans. When the soil is freshly put back into its place, the humans always make it their priority to come every day to either cry or insult the body underneath all the grass and flowers. They come time and time again with food and beer. Some come to sing, and others just come to enjoy a sunny day. But they all eventually stop coming either by choice or their living life takes over. Despite the years that have passed, she cannot bid her last farewell to this cemetery like other humans have. The thought of never coming back has never crossed her mind for something so dear and painful was buried here by her broken self. In her only time of weakness and complete desolation she came here, hoping that the human’s way of dealing with grief will help her keep going.
Her eyes mist over while tracing the purple letters spelling Kairo on the tombstone. Each letter was carefully carved onto the white marble by her own hands one hundred years ago. She stood in this very spot drench in her own blood crying over a warlock who promised her love and care to only toss her aside as a used napkin. She stood here with the moon as her witness of when she tried to bury her feelings for him. Of how she tried to believe all the hurtful words he called her over and over again until her spirit was broken. She stood her with the owls and crickets as her witness of the night she lost it all. She lost him and she lost herself in attempts to understand how parting ways that way was the best for both.
Tracing her long red nail across her wrist, she lets it sink deep enough to let it break skin. She lets her nail reopen the wound he caused when he broke her heart. Blood trickles down her wrist into the tombstone, staining it red just as the night when she placed it there. But this time her tears refuse to fall to wash it away.
Her hands reach for her locket at the sounds of twigs breaking under the weight of someone’s body. Feeling for a warning of who was approaching the deserted part of the cemetery. Her ears twitch at the movement of everything that surrounds her. Her feet itch with the need to leave as soon as she senses something wrong. The autumn breeze shifts the fallen leaves back and forth bringing with it the waft of the all-to familiar honeysuckle and burnt wood scent. Closing her eyes, she allows herself to be embraced with the familiar presence of someone whom she misses so dearly. She allows herself a moment of vulnerability and hopefulness of what that scent could mean of what the scent once meant.
“I hope my headstone will have more of a certain je ne sais quoi that this one lacks, maybe less weeds and more living flowers, under a tree will be great as well,” the voice behind her laughs awakening her anger, “But I have to admit that I love the touches of purple in the lettering”
Turning to face the voice, Izumi scoffs, “This is the only one you’ll get from me. You can have someone else arrange a better one once you die”
The man standing before her shows no change other than the switch from silk clothes to cotton ones. He looks just as he did when she first met him on her first trip by boat. His young-filled sense of adventure and lovely appearance attempts to bring her back to the past when she was naïve to think that a monster like her deserved something as pure as the love he offered.
The man frowns, “Wishing for my death so soon! Should I be flattered or offended?”
“How you feel has nothing to do with me anymore, you made it very clear”
The man smiles, “I did, didn’t I?”
Izumi forces a smile, “Best thing that happened to me, so a thanks is in order,” stretching out her hand she continues, “Kairo the warlock of Nasmond, I thank you! Tossing me aside when you did, allowed me to achieve greatness. Without you by my side I was no longer held back and used my full potential as the killer that I am.”
With trembling lips, she looks into his purple eyes, attempting to ignore the pain that swims inside them, “without you I was able to eat until I could no longer walk from satisfaction. I ate and ate all the exquisite meals I could get my hands on. Thank you!”
Retrieving her outstretched hands, she closes it in a tight fist inside her sweater pocket. She bows her head slightly before walking past him, savoring the last scent of honeysuckle with firewood that are so uniquely his. Passing by him, she sneaks her last glance at his silver hair, wishing to forget how soft it felt when she used to run her finger through them. Sneaking a last glance at his callus filled palms from all the labor he puts them through to help others. Sneaking a last glance to the purple sparks from his hands that match so well with her own hair. The callus hands that held hers tightly when she was first learning to love someone as good as him. The parks of his magic that once claimed her as their own. The sparks that showed her that she was not a monster that deserved hate. Rather a creature like any other that deserved the best of those she encounters. The warm hands that showed her a world filled with possibilities.
Her steps come to a halt at the touch of his magic on her trembling shoulders, “Please don’t go” he softly begs
Izumi’s tears fall hearing his painfilled voice. Her tears fall, feeling how sad his magic is, how exhausted it is. But she refuses to turn around. Refuses to make the same mistake twice.
“Zumi, please! I made a mistake”
“We both did but it was fixed!” she cleans her tears before facing him again, “We are fine now. We are in our own right paths”
His hands sparkle behind his back, “I was wrong then. Vampires and warlocks can be together! We can! I’m sorry I thought I was doing the right thing then, but I was wrong. I am wrong. I-I-”
“No! you were right. You being here, talking to me is wrong, so let’s pretend this never happened and go on about our lives”
Swallowing hard he takes a careful step towards her, “I have not been able to forget you. I think of you every day, every second of my damn life. I cannot keep going like this. I might as well die now! That’s how I feel without you! I thought we were too different, that we could not function together”
“And we couldn’t! I could not feed without you worrying about the human losing blood. You could not go out during the day because I could not. You couldn’t save the people you wanted because I held you back. I was an obstacle. And I couldn’t be a proper vampire with you there. The constant walking on eggshells got to us.”
“That’s all in the past! We are different now!”
“I almost killed you! You breathe, eat, and live as a human. I survive on the blood pumping veins of living things. I survive off what keeps you alive.”
Her hands tremble remembering them stained in the blood of someone she loved dearly. Tearing his wrist and neck in search of satisfying her hunger despite his pain filled screams. She didn’t, couldn’t control her hunger, even when she was hurting something so precious to her.
Taking another step closer he extends a trembling hand to wipe away her tears, “I was wrong, I made you starve. I guilt trip you into starving because I didn’t understand you. I pushed you away because I was guilty. Because I hated myself for what I forced you to do. I am to blame for that, not you. I—”
Seeing his red rimmed eyes shedding tears breaks her un-beating heart. His eyes are not meant for every shade of sad filled tears. His is not meant to be put through so much pain and heartache that she has place upon him. Pulling him into her cold embrace she lets her sobs out. Sobs from their previous goodbye. Sobs from their reunion after such a long time apart. She hugs him tenderly. She hugs him with all her pain and happiness of having him again, even if just briefly.
The wind picks up, blowing the leaves up and down making a shield between them and the prying eyes of the night. Holding his warm tear-stained face in between her stone-cold palms, Izumi takes in the warmth and love in his eyes for the last time. Moving her palms down to his neck, massaging his shoulder blades.
“what are you doing?” he whispers
“shh! Just look at my eyes”
Locking eyes, Izumi lets her last tears fall, “I love you so much, you know. All the time we spent together and even right now will forever be engraved in my mind, my soul.” Wiping away his tears she continues swallowing hard, “Forget me, forget all of our time together”
Sinking her nails into his neck observing his wide eyes as his blood leaves his body. Extracting her teeth, she sinks them into his neck injecting her venom into his blood stream. Taking a step back she glares into his love filled eyes.
“For the past century, you, Kairo the warlock of Nasmond, have been traveling the world giving a helping hand to anyone that needs it. Among those you have helped and saved, Izumi was just someone you helped come to terms with her new identity as a vampire. She lived with you for a short amount of time before venturing out on her own. Tonight was just moment to catch up.”
Seeing the love slowly being terminated in his eyes, hurt but it was a must. Walking way from him taking the tomb stone with her was hard. Her legs refused to move but the sun’s slow awakening works as a push for her to leave.
One step and then another. One foot in front of the other. One useless breath after another. Izumi walks out the commentary waving goodbye to the grave watcher for the last time.

Dancing Pen

The pen dances along the page creating works that play with your emotions. Words that some find comforting and others find boring. Words that captivate your attention making you forget your difficult day or week, for a short moment. Words that get into your mind capturing your attention in order to distract your from your reality for a short while. Words so complicated that make no sense at fist, but after hours of polishing like a one does to diamonds, you begin to see the beauty it tells. Words that need to be erased only to be rewritten once again, for multiple times a day until it finally makes sense.

The pen that only wants to write words of love, all types of love: unrequited love, lost love, first love, and so on. The pen that is so stubborn about wanting to write but not having the confidence to put its work out in the open. In the open for others to read, pull apart, strip to its simplest form, to critique, and label as worth reading or a waste of time. The pen that wants its work to be read from the purest to darkest minds and for them to feel something. Something that makes them cry like a hungry baby or laugh like a toddler that is being tickled. The pen that dances day and night until exhaustion hits, making it fall on the cold wooden table to not be picked for days or even months. But even after a long time of doing nothing, can get back to dancing, creating colorful words that appeal to any type of mood. A pen that even as time passes continues to create with passion with small improvements with the passing of time.

There is nothing like a fresh page waiting to be stained with ink in the oddest yet calming way. A blank page that is waiting to be filled with the darkest of emotions to the purest. There is nothing like having the power to write to your heart’s content, to write until your hands are begging you to take a break. Writing until your brain collapses from the exhaustion of putting words together. Writing not even when the ink runs out from your pen. Writing until the itch in your fingers stops because you have created something out of nothing. Something that many might find to be a waste of time but to you is something that makes you smile even when its rough and has many mistakes and needs serious improvement.

You smile for having your thoughts be part of something. Something that can be legible or maybe not. Smiling because you have just spent four to five hours, or maybe just ten minutes, of your day pulling ideas from your mind about an imaginary world that no one would get to see because you hide your work out of the fear of having others make fun of it. Getting mad and frustrated when the characters do something that ruins the progress they made, even when you have the power to change it. Smiling because you have just done something that expresses who you are without actually having to show it to the rest of the world.

There is nothing like having your hand move down a page so fast, faster than you thought possible. Filling the page with a thought that begged to be expanded and turned into something more than an idea. To bring it to life.

---

The Mirror

The clock reads three am as I find myself looking into my bathroom mirror. My eyeshadow is still there in its bright green color. My foundation is still on my face, hiding my dark circles and blemishes. My lips are still stained red and black. My nails are still long and of a glittery blue color. I am still wearing my favorite green cocktail dress that hugs me in the right places. I am still the same person I was when I left a few hours ago. I am still the same as I was when I woke up this morning at five am. I am still the same person I was when I agreed to go out. I am still the same person who burned her toast in the morning, yet still ate it with a shrug. 

But I am not the same person. Looking in the mirror despite everything still being there. There are things that are gone. Things that people don’t usually notice. Things that are invisible except for the person that owns them. That feels them.

This morning my eyes were bright and filled with excitement. This morning I was filled with motivation to complete everything that needed to get done. This morning I woke up feeling happy about being able to wake up. I was happy for starting a new day. This morning I pushed aside all the things that went wrong the previous day. This morning I was able to laugh at all the things that were wrong, unexpected, and unperfect. 

But the eyes in the mirror now lack all these. The eyes looking at me now, are red and filled with tears. The smile is forced and nonexistent. The lips are twitching forcing a sob back. The long nails stained with red from digging into my palms leaving small puncture marks. And everything that I pushed back and tried to forget is coming back at full force. The happiest moments of today are being erased, pushed to the back of my mind to make room for the darkest thoughts to take the spotlight. For the darkest thoughts to consume me, to devour me.  

 Turning on the tap, I let the water run going to waste. The minutes pass and the water continues to run. It continues to be wasted. Wasted by me. Wasted by my inability to torn my gaze away from my tear-stained face. Wasted by my stupidness that wants more than it deserves. Wasted by my obsession to present a perfect persona. A fake persona. Closing my eyes, I let a sob escapes my lips. A sob that starts out noiseless and develops into screams. Screams of desperation. Screams calling out for help. Calling out for something. Calling out to someone. Calling out to no one. For no one could help. No one can help me. No one can help. I am alone. All alone. 

I’m alone fighting these feelings of concern, confusion, and anger, and loneliness. Concern for all the decisions I made tonight. Deciding to go out and celebrate with friends was a good call, but was it? I ended up laughing and having a good time, but did I? I talked with friends, but did I really? The truth is that I didn’t. I talked and laughed but it was all a lie. It was all a pretense. It was all an act. An act for I no longer know how to do those things without ruining the mood. It has been years since I last had a truthful word leave my mouth. It was been years since I have been certain that I was enjoying what I was doing. I often question the emotions and motif behind everything I do. Why have I chosen toast over eggs? Why eggs? Why this or that. And as those questions fill up my mind, I feel anger. Anger for not being capable to be happy with my choices. Anger for second-guessing everything I say and do. Anger for being me.

And even when I laugh and enjoy myself, I feel alone. A lone for every laugh, every word, and smile were all rehearsed. Everything I do and say outside of these white walls is an act. An act to show that I am still the same I was years ago. To show that I am good and kind. To show that I can love and deserve to be loved. To show that I am worthy of being kept around. 

Turning off the tap I strip off the dress and into the cold shower. I scrub my body getting rid of all the sweat and dried-up tears. I scrub hard leaving only pink behind. I scrub hard over and over the same areas leaving behind red and pain. I scrub and scrub removing the mask I force myself to wear to the outside world. I scrub off all the pretense and lies I forced myself into believing for the day. I scrub and scrub leaving only my true self behind. Turning off the shower and wrapping a black towel around my trembling limbs, I stand before the mirror once again. 

My eyes are red just the like rest of my body. My hands are trembling and some of the nail polish has chipped off. My hair is dripping wet and all tangled up. Looking into the red eyes staring back at me I find comfort. Comfort for I am in my true form. I am not forcing a smile or okayness. I am not forcing out a laugh or contentment. I am not forcing anything. I am me. I am myself. My messy and uncontrollable self. 

Looking into the mirror I finally see myself. The self-filled with insecurities and internal struggles. The self-filled with sadness, anger, and confusion. All is exposed and I am glad. The image in the mirror is me at my worst but it is me. It is me

Day Begins and Ends

The clock ticks and ticks. Time passes and passes. Days begin and end. Begin and end. And I remain sitting at my black desk staring at my laptop screen without getting anything done. I stare at a blanc screen from dust ‘til dawn. I hear the world around me get loud and silent without joining in the fun or the regrets of everyone who actually got started with their day.

I sit at desk staring at my blanc screen as it turns off and on throughout the day. I charge it and uncharged it without getting things done. My pile of to do grows and grows with many things that need to get done. Things that I must complete to graduate college. Things that must get done to have a shot at making a living. Things that must get done to follow my dreams. Things that must get done to chase a foolish dream. A foolish dream that will never turn into a reality for I sit at my desk staring at a blanc screen.

A blanc screen that used to be a blanc page waiting to be filled with whatever came to mind. A blanc page waiting to be stained with ink. A blanc page filled with a sparkle. But somehow that page turned into a screen and lost its spark. It lost the spark that stained the page with ink. And when the spark was gone it was hard to get back to getting my day started.

With the spark was gone it was easier to fall into the void. A void filled with darkness, and the insecurities and judgement of others. A void filled with self loathe. Self-loathe for every decision I have ever made and didn’t made. Self-loathe for all the words that left my mouth and for those that didn’t. self-loathe for those whom I have met and for those I call friends. Self-loathe for the friends I have made for I have submerge them in my problems. For I have made them listen to my worries and insecurities. For I got myself involve in their lives. I made my problems theirs and I had no right to do that. I had no right to call them friends. I had no right to speak out about my problems for they were mine, mine alone to solve.
The clocks ticks and ticks. Days begin and end. As the sun rises, I get off my bed and get ready to start my day for the darkness, the void, is finally gone after its unexpected visit. The void is finally gone but it will be back again. It will come back tomorrow or within an hour. But for now, I will get started on my day. I will shower and get my make-up done for that makes me feel a little like myself. And after that is done, I will sit at my desk and decide if I have the strength to tackle my do to list. I sit and decide whether I want to work on schoolwork, blog stuff, or just a on random things.

The day ends and I continue to be seated in front of a bright screen, but this time is no longer blanc. Now it’s filled with words, so many words that make no sense at all. So many words that make so much sense. So many words that mean so much. So many words that mean nothing at all.

The day begins and I have a choice to make.

Distraction

Sitting on top of the red rug in her bedroom, Rae placed her throbbing head in the middle of her knees taking deep breaths. She inhaled and exhaled thinking of all the possible things that could go wrong at four in the afternoon.

She inhales and pictures her parents arriving early from work catching her on the act. She pictured her mother boiling with rage as she tells them to dress. She exhales imagining her father tossing the naked boy out of their home as her mother calls her names.

Inhale, slut, whore, shameful, her mother will call her. Exhale, her older sister would laugh at her for how foolish she was. Inhale her father would send her back to her grandmother to be raised in a proper Catholic household. Exhale.

Ding!  An in coming message makes her fast beating heart skip a beat and her palms sweaty. She quickly stands retrieving her phone off her black nightstand.

With shaking hands, she unlocks her phone, only to sigh in relief seeing that it’s not her parents but Steven

Be there in ten

  K, she texts backs and tossed her phone onto her bed.

Trying to stop her palms from sweating so much she begins to brush her hair, for the tenth time in the past thirty minutes.

“It’s okay! They don’t need to know, they won’t know. He will come and be gone hours before they come home. I’ll clean everything before they come.”

 Placing her black hairbrush down. She quickly scans her room.

Everything is clean, from her red carpeted floor to her balcony.

Exiting her room, she rushes into the kitchen to ensure that nothing is out of place. The dishes have all been put away, the counters and dinner table are spotless. The tomato stain in front of the stove is no longer there. And the smell of Bleach is well hidden by the lavender incest that she burned five minutes ago.

She exists the kitchen and into her parent’s bedroom. Their bed is made, and the multiple pillows are organized by color, just how her mother like it. Making sure to close the door on her way out, she enters her room once again.

She stands in front of the mirror, she stares at her sock cover feet, wondering if it would be appropriate to keep her socks on. In all the articles she had read they never mentioned if keeping her socks on would be appropriate. Glancing upwards she messes with the hems of her shorts, wondering if choosing shorts was a good idea, the articles didn’t include anything on what was the best outfit for this occasion.

Looking at the silver clock on her desk, it reads 3:55 pm. Seeing that there is only five minutes left she wonders if she is doing the right thing.

I mean she has never been one of those who believes in waiting until marriage or to be in a relationship. Besides this won’t be the first time that she had done something similar. But it was the first time she was going all the way with someone she barely spoke to. Someone who had called her a stalker and weird. Someone who had told her to go fuck herself when she wanted to explain why she happen to get off at the same bus stop as him. Someone whom she had admitted having a crush on last year. That same someone who had told her that he didn’t feel the same way and stopped talking to her.

But that was all in the past. She is no longer… her feelings are no longer there. This was all because he was the only one she felt comfortable doing this with. This was all because she could no longer rely on writing, reading, or running to make her feel better about all the arguments with her parents and sister. This was all because he was the only one with whom she felt comfortable enough to reveal herself to without worried about his judgement. This was all because he had shown an interest on doing it with her. Well that’s not true a boy whom she was friends with years ago ask her to do it in freshman year, but she had refused.

Ding! 

Steven

Here.

Rae rushed to her closet and open her bra drawer to take out the two square pockets that said, Durex. Fanning her flushed faced, she tossed the pockets on her bed and calmly walked to the front door.

Cleaning her sweaty palms on the back of her shorts, and taking a deep breath, she opens the door revealing the first boy, person, outside of her immediate family to ever be invited into her parents’ home.

“Come in” Rae says with a small smile.

“Nice home” Steven says

“want water?”

“sure”

Rae enters the kitchen and retrieves the two bottles of water that she had placed in the refrigerator at 3:05 this afternoon. Handing a bottle to him she signals him to follow her with the tilt of her head.

Once in front of her bedroom door, she opens it letting him go in first.

Closing the door and locking it, she exhales.

“so… want to put on some music” Steven says from behind her

Turning to face him she smiles and nods.

Steven fetches his phone from his back pocket and tosses himself into her bed, acting as this was his room. Rae walks next to her bed and hides the two square pockets under her phone.

She stands next to him wondering if it will be too late to send him home. She knows that he would go without much convincing, but she is not so certain that she wants him to go away. He… no what they agreed to do could be a way for her to have a few minutes of peace.

He glances at her and smiles extending his hand towards her. He invites her into the bed next to him and Rae lets him for he could help her without him knowing. She accepted because she knew this was a healthier option than the other methods she had tried or wanted to try. She takes his invitation knowing fully well that if at any moment she wishes to back out he will understand.

And so, they begin. He cares her skin making her closes her eyes forgetting everything. She forgets her acceptance and rejections letters form universities. Forgets it all the arguments over her wanting to go far away. Arguments over her wanting more time to explore her hobbies. Arguments over who should make decisions over her own future. Arguments over who is at fault for her desire to go to a new place away from everyone. Arguments over who she should want to be. She forgets it all. Forgets.

This is not how she pictured this going down, sleeping with someone just out of pure need of a distraction. But its not too bad that is happened this way. She is distracted for a few moments and that’s all she needs to get some of her sanity back.  A few moments of clarity are what this reckless decision got her and that’s all she was hoping for.

Bidding him goodbye she silently thanks him for the moment of calmness that he provided. Silently thanking him for distracting her.

The Price We Paid

Glancing down at their interlocked hands Bai Xian gives a half-hearted smile. Closing his eyes, he savors the warm feeling of holding hands with the one he loves the most. He savors the feeling of having his rough hands interlocked with Li Meng’s soft ones. He savors the feeling of holding the much smaller hands of his lover. Bringing their interlocked hands to his lips, he presses his cold lips in the back of Li Meng’s hand.

Li Meng whispers, “two hours ‘til sunrise, is there anything else you would like to do?”
Bai Xian, “I just want to stay here by your side”

Li Meng glances at Bai Xian with a small smile. Looking down at their interlocked hands he cannot help but curse the universe for being so unfair.

Bai Xian, “you know, when we were little, I really enjoyed watching you chase the butterflies and the light bugs, you were so carefree then. I thought and wishes for you to remain that carefree for the rest of your life. I wanted to help you remain carefree. I wanted to keep you smiling at the world and for you to never face any hardships but looking back now I did the complete opposite. Instead of making you smile I made you cry. I caused you problems and got you punished unfairly, yet you remain by my side. I often wonder if I burden you. I often wonder if one day you will regret meting me. I often wonder if you could ever forgive me. At times I want you to forget me and keep living but the selfish part of me wants to—”

Embracing Xian, Li Meng, “Back then I did all that because you seemed so happy watching me struggle to get a hold of the butterflies and light bugs. I did all that because I wanted for you to always be at peace. I wanted for you to remain at peace and happy. I wanted you live a long life filled with happiness. I…I did the exact opposite. But I hope that in your next life you can life a carefree life and be at peace. I want you to… and although I know that there is nothing that I can do, I want to keep you here with me, I want to keep you a live with me, I want to wake up next to you. I want to keep loving you for I just got you all to myself and now I have to return you. I don’t want to…I want more time in this life to be with you for I love you and I don’t know how long it will take for me to reunite with you.”

They hold on to each other tightly, wishing for sunrise to delay for a couple of years or even just for a few hours more. They hold on tightly wanting for more tome to be together. They hold on tight wishing that their faith will change. Wishing and hoping for a second chance to love one another.

As the sun begins to rise, Li Meng begins to sob softly as he feels the body of his lover going limb and cold on his hands. His sobs increase in volume as rainfall comes to spread his sadness and despair.

Li Meng shouts curses at the universe for taking the one he loves, for taking an innocent soul who deserved better. For making his lover suffer for an innocent act of loving another man.

His screams of sorrow get spread through the rivers of Soaring Waters and the winds of Violet Summit. His screams and sorrow go through the ears of those who supported their love and of those who opposed. His screams are heard and felt. His pain is felt by everyone who knew of their love story and even those who were unaware of their existence.

Those who supported their love wept along with him, wishing that in their next life, if they had one, that they get to meet one another in simpler terms. They hoped for the best for them in their next life. They hoped that the one remaining didn’t have to suffer alone for long.

For those who opposed their love, hearing his pain caused them to fall in shocking realization. For they thought that what they claimed to feel for one another was nothing more than a way to rebel. Hearing his pain caused them to see that what they felt was completely true. Hearing his shouts of despair caused them to wish to turn back time and be among those who celebrated their love. Hearing his screams caused them to wish that they didn’t play a role in their despair.

As the storm picks up his screams stop as his breathing cases to continue.

I Should have

A year has passed since I made the biggest mistake of my life, choosing the words of others instead of my wife’s. I knew deep down their words weren’t true, but I still chose them over hers.

I believed and chose them over her, for they were my disciples and knew me since birth. I chose them because I wanted my guilt to extinguish. I wanted to get rid of my shame for betraying the one person that adored and loved me as an individual and not for my position or ability to execute orders. I choose them over my wife.

Izumi, my wife, was like nobody that I had met before. She was the very definition of elegance and intelligence all in one. And she was beautiful. She was beautiful dressed in all those expensive robes and golden hair pins. She was beautiful as she played on the ground with our five-month-old son at that time. But she was breath taking as she leaned across a wooden table drawing out and studying maps with ink all over her robes and hands. Every time I glanced at her she took my breath away. I was left breathless when glancing at her whole being. From her long jet-black hair to her worn out shoes that she loved so much. She never failed to leave me breathless.

But my love for her didn’t stand a chance against their decisions of choosing another female disciple to take her position in official matters. Although I never glanced at that woman, I betrayed my wife for allowing them to place that woman by my side.

My love for her didn’t stand a chance against their words and judgement of her. My disciples disliked Izumi as my wife. They disliked her for her stubbornness to be valued as an individual and not as a woman. They complained about her constant refusal to follow common wife standards.

Izumi, refused all that for she wanted our marriage and family life to be based on teamwork and not gender roles. And I silently wanted the same thing. I wanted to help her out with the household duties. I wanted her to tell me how I could help either in the kitchen or with our son, Bai Xian Jinhai. I silently wanted what she wanted. Silently.

I silently supported her attitude, decisions, and personality. I silently cheered her on and was proud of her. Silently

And that was my problem. I never publicly stood up for her. I remained silent when others sinned her name with false accusations. I never contradicted their wrong assumptions. I never took a public stance by her side. I never did and that was my mistake.

My mistake was choosing their words over hers. I choose theirs as she cried and screamed the truth. I choose theirs as she spoke her truth with blood gushing out of her wounded body. I choose theirs as she cried with our son in her arms.

But when I was finally going to choose her, it was too late for she had taken her last breath.

The night she took her last breath I finally allowed myself to see the truth after speaking to her father. The truth was that Bing Kenson was nothing more than her half-brother. He was the only one that actually cared for her in Violet Summit. He was the one that was by her side when she needed support and someone to make her smile when things got hard. He was her support when I failed to do my duties as her husband. He was there for her instead of me because I placed more importance on a title than on my loving family.

That night I looked at Kenson and Xian, from far as they played. Kenson was consoling Xian for he missed his mother. As I observed them, I was finally able to see my son again. I was finally able to see his baby features as a combination of his mother and me. Xian was half me and half Izumi. And I didn’t see that when I choose to be blinded by the ill words of others.

The next morning, I was crushed with the announcement of Izumi’s death. I held our baby and cried harder than him. I cried and yearned for the woman I had betrayed. I yearned for the woman who always found a way to make me feel better. I sobbed and yelled for her, but she never came. And how could she. I pushed her away, I made her to be a villain when she was nothing but loving and good.

I stayed there embracing my baby and sobbing for the things I should have done.

I should have stood up for her

I should have defended her and her position by my side

I should have appreciated her

I should have loved her better

I should have…

~ Bai Fan Dequan II

The Rumor

My husband has lost his trust in me. Even after I have shown him my loyalty to not only him but to his people time and time again. Even after I had to reduce my rank from Crown princess to commoner.

 When we first met, I was nineteen and ready to find someone to call husband. My father, the king of Wind Strings, set up hundredths of dates with handsome and kind men. They, for the most part, were all very kind and well-mannered and seemed to have some interest in me. But although they were kind, they all saw me as a decoration to add for their bedchamber. After turning down men after men, my father had begun to get impatient and so was I. My father questioned what exactly I was looking for in a husband, since I was a woman and wasn’t supposed to have expectations for her future husband. 

When my mother was alive, she made sure to teach me all the basics of a good wife: to know how to cook, clean, provide support, and please a husband not only bed but also in the presence of others. She gave me endless lessons on the importance of pleasing one’s husband. Her efforts were not wasted for every word that she spoke was drilled into my head. I remember every lesson word for word.

And although I knew my role, I still couldn’t just marry the first man that flashed a kind smile. I wanted more than what my mother taught me to expect. I wanted a man that would treat me as an equal. A man that will realize that although I was a woman, I had read endless books not only of cooking but also on landscaped and poems. That I knew how to rule a kingdom, to read and make maps. I had the knowledge of a wise woman but also the knowledge of a wise man.

But with my father growing inpatient and my hopes of finding a man like that diminishing, I began considering lowering my expectations. I had friends who were married off to the first men that showed interest in them. Their lives weren’t so bad, if you were to ignore the constant cheating and humiliation of being treated of no higher status than a someone they pay to sleep with. But just as I began giving up on the hopes of finding someone who will treat me as a person, he appeared.

He was a man in his mid-twenties dressed in blue robs that had its hems embroider with violet mountains. His charcoal black hair was pulled back in a single braid in the back of his head, that reached his calves. Every step that he took was filled with elegance, an elegance that will put any woman to shame. His head was held high, making it impossible to miss his vibrant purple eyes. He was Bai Fan Dequan II, the crown prince of Violet Summit. He has come to String Winds to straighten the alliance between both kingdoms by inviting my father and three disciples of my father’s choosing to attend their annual Sword Fight.

The annual Sword Fight of the Violet Summit was spectacular. Not many were allowed to presence it, it was an honor to whoever they chose to invite and be part of the competition. The sword fight was, just as its name suggested, a sword fight among the most skilled of the Violet Summit and the other kingdoms that they choose to invite. The winner will have the opportunity to take home ten thousand bars of gold and silver as well as ten jars of the TEA, one of the best liquors in all seven kingdoms that is only made and sold in Violet Summit. My father had of coursed accepted and had planned to take his three most skilled warriors, but I insisted that he chose me as one of the three.

I might have been a woman, that seemed too weak to protect herself, but I had that skilled needed to have a chance at competing in the sword fight. Wind Strings is not a kingdom dominated by swordsmanship, instead men often focused on their instrument abilities. The masters of the instruments were capable of playing tunes that could either kill a person or save their lives. It was the symbolic skill of Wind Strings. But I, a woman wasn’t allowed to participate in any instrument lessons thus I focused on swords. I am by no means better than the warriors at Violet Summit, but I am better with a sword than the men my father was taking.

As expected, the warriors from home didn’t even last to the first match, but I did. But I was defeated in the third round by Bai Fan Dequan II, I didn’t even last a minute fighting against him, but I lasted enough to make an impression on him. After that quick match he and I engaged on a casual conversation, after he received the approval from both his father and mine. We walked around their territory, with his people gushing over us and insisting on giving us free food.

Besides having a handsome face, he was very knowledgeable, which is to expect from the crown prince of Violet Summit. But he treated me as his equal. After two springs since our first official date, we married and on that winter of the same year I gave birth to our son, Bia Xian Jinhai.

Although I had found a husband that respected me, it didn’t come at a cheap price. Since he was a crown prince, I had to give up my title making me a commoner. Now there is nothing wrong with a commoner, but when you are married to a crown prince, it’s not ideal. His father, although gave his blessing didn’t like that I refused to slave myself in the kitchen to cook for his son or to wait for him every night with a warm dinner.

I knew that waiting for him with a warm dinner was to be expected of me but since I was a commoner, I didn’t have access to helps. I needed to do everything all on my own. The cleaning, cooking, sewing, and take care of our first child. I was also in charge of his father’s meals and laundry. And on top of all of that I needed to look presentable at all times. That was too much to ask for and my husband agreed with me, but as months passed the disciples and his father grew more and more irritated with my lack of manners. I found myself being excluded from meals and had to watch as another woman, took my place in official manners.

 We both tried to get his family to accept me, but we didn’t succeed. They wanted me to obey the gender roles, but I couldn’t do it, although I tried. I tried to be well dressed as I waited for him at dinner. I often didn’t sleep for days in order to keep this perfect wife status. I went through severe sickness because I stopped caring about my health. I did all this because I hated the fact that another woman was chosen to stand by his side instead of me. I was a crown princess before marrying him and everyone knew it but after I became a Bai, they all forgot who I was.

Even as his people hated me and wanted me gone from his side, Bai Fan, stayed by my side. When I fell ill, he pushed all his responsibilities aside to make sure that he was the one that brought me back to health. He began arriving home early, so that the three of us could have dinner and he could spend more time with Xian. He would take days off from his duties, even when he knew he would get punished by his father, in order to take us on strolls around his territory. The common people still liked me by his side. They still cared for me just like they did on that afternoon after the Sword fight. But although he tried to spend more time with me, as his coronation approached it became impossible to make time for me and his son. I was once again left alone with his disciples and their judgment.

Thankfully, my loneliness didn’t last long, thanks to Bing Kenson. Bing Kenson is my mother’s first child with her side husband and my childhood best friend. My parents, although they seemed very much in love when my mother was alive, they had secret families and children. Everyone in Wind Strings knew of their side families but no one spoke ill of my parents, only their side families. I knew of Kenson when I was five, my mother introduced us with one purpose. To get me to take liking into him in order to protect him when others cursed his shameful birth. To me, Kenson is my older brother even if I have to call him “friend” in front of others.

Having Kenson by my side made me feel safe. He was the only friendly face, besides my husbands, that I had in Violet Summit. He helped me with the cooking and looking after Xian. He was the one that taught Xian to walk and to properly great his elders. I knew that Kenson wanted to marry and have children of his own but being born out of marriage made it impossible for anyone to want him as a son-in-law. Thus, I let him spend all the time he wanted with Xian, since that is as close to having a child that he will get in this lifetime. Kenson often took us on strolls and taught me more about maps and war strategies. He was my happy place when my husband wasn’t around.

Having Kenson with me made me forget about the exterior world, which was a mistake on my part. I was so happy spending time with someone that liked me to notice what the Bai disciples were saying. Without noticing, a rumor began spreading over the land of the Bai; that I, the crown prince’s wife, was having an affair with Kenson. The reason behind their false accusations was that I was spending so much time with Kenson and that Xian looked very similar to him.  My husband was the first to hear the rumors but didn’t bother to tell me. When I found out about all those lies it was too late to fix everything.

My once happy family that loved to laugh together became a war of screams and insults. He would come home and yell at me for every little thing. That I didn’t cook his father’s meal properly, that I made him late to his duties with my late breakfast. I tolerated all his yelling thinking that it was all stressed. I remain silent when the yelling began. But when he began insult Xian, I could not hold my tongue, I yelled back at him. I told him of how I was stripped from my title in order to marry him. Of how I had to give my melody away in order to become a Bai. I told him time and time again that those rumors were false. I even asked him to question my father about Kenson’s and I relationship, but I wasted all my energy in vain. He just wouldn’t listen.

The fights became so bad that we moved from insulting each other to physically harming one another. It was hard to believe that the man that I married out of love though so low of me. How he, that was so rational and intelligent, could not see how Xian wasn’t Kenson’s son, but his. How he who was the brightest could not see that Xian was a replica of himself. I went to sleep every night with a new broken rib, fractured bone, or a black eye. It was hard having to pretend that everything was fine in front of Kenson and Xian.

Kenson knew that there was something wrong between my husband and I, but he didn’t have the status to ask. On our last fight, I threw a bottle of wine at his head, he was not injured but a disciple saw me. I was sentenced to death after one hundred days of torture for treason, for almost ‘killing’ crown prince, and adultery.

Before being taken to the dungeon where I would receive my punishment, I was allowed to spend one final night with Xian. On my final night with Xian I wrote a letter to my husband telling him everything, starting with Kenson and I being half siblings to how him and Xian are so similar not only on appearance but also on their behavior. After sliding the letter under the door to the bedroom where I was the happiest and the saddest moments, I attempted my escape.

I wanted to escape not because I was afraid of death but because I was scared for the faith that Xian will face after my death. He is just five months old right now. Although Kenson loved him, he didn’t have the resources to take care of him. Unfortunately, before I place on foot down the steps of his bedroom, his disciples saw me sneaking around and took Xian from my arms and threw me in the dungeon.

Today marks the final day of my punishment. I have endured living in a rat-infested room wearing a torn and smelly robe, and multiple scars from the five hundredth slashes with the torn bush that I received daily. In these one hundredth days I was made an example of what will happen to those that commit adultery. I was forced to strip in front of the guards as they threw rocks at me. I was forced to eat of the floor covered with rate feces and other disgusting things. But the worst punishment of all was the shaving of my hair. Since I was born as the member of String Winds, my hair and its length determined my lifespan but with it gone marked my last hours in this life.

Although I have a tragic end, I wish and hope that Xian has something better. I wish that his father would read my letter and see how Xian and he are truly related.

My eyes feel heavy and for the first time in days I find comfort as the guards push me down to the ground.

~Izumi