Envy's Heart Continued

~*~

“Sneaking kitchen scraps again,� Rose said standing and stretching her fingers up towards her ceiling. Bull woke with a start and a yelp and then shook his head, blinking blearily at her. Rose smiled and said, “Stay here, I’ll bring you back something.�
Alone, Rose wandered the abandoned red halls to the kitchen where she collected parcels of food for Bull as well as herself and then started back towards her room.
On her way back to her haven, Rose passed Snow’s room and found herself unable to move forward. From beneath the closed door, golden-red light glittered tauntingly. Looking left and then right, Rose confirmed that she was alone and pushed the door open just enough for her to slip through.
The dancing light was coming from a small, round table set against one corner. Rose cast a clandestine peek over at her cousin who slept heavily beneath a mountain of blankets. The small girl was little more than a slight lump in the middle of a bed that looked far too big for her.
Silently, holding the basket of food on one arm and feeling absurdly guilty, Rose hurried across the room to study whatever it was making the taunting glow.
A gleaming pendant sat on the table, a fine, dark gold chain lay coiled like a sleeping snake above it and though the chain was lovely and as fine as spider-silk… the pendant out shone anything Rose could have imagined.
Shaped like a blooming flower with petals made of dark gold and the center made out a jewel that looked like a fire caught under glass. It shifted from deep orange to pale, buttery yellow, to a dark crimson that Rose found particularly fetching.
Completely spellbound, she reached out a tentative finger and brushed the jewel gently. The moment she caressed the face of the gem it pulsed to a deep red-black that called out to Rose in a way nothing else did.
She lifted the now pulsing jewel up by its chain and allowed the angry light to bathe her features. Carefully, she turned it over to look at the back, hoping to see more of that magnificent glow.
She was disappointed, there was nothing but that dark gold setting that, while pretty, did not compare to that blood light that came from the jewel. But… there seemed to be something more.
Squinting in the darkness, Rose managed to read the small inscription on the back of the jewel.
“To my love, Snow White, the loveliest flower in bloom, � Rose read allowed in a whisper.
The little lord who held in his hand something that sent out beams of light and color… this must be what he had been holding out to Snow, a gift.
“‘To my love’,� Rose whispered, looking over at her cousin. She held the jewel tightly in her hand, smothering the lovely crimson glow as she stared at her cousin, knowing nothing but hatred.
I’ll take it, Rose thought viciously, I’ll take it and hide it so she never finds it again… It’s not like she’d miss it anyway, stupid girl that she is.
Rose didn’t feel the tears spilling down her cheeks, didn’t notice how her entire body trembled. Her cousin rolled over fitfully, moaning gently as if she could feel the hatred in Rose’s glare.
But then, as if she had meant to do it to begin with, Rose opened her tightly clenched hand and let the pendent drop back onto the table.
“What would I do with such a foolish thing as love anyway?� she asked her sleeping cousin. “Everyone loves you best, cousin… But I can rule better with fear.�
Rose turned and slipped out of the darkened room, taking one last look at the glittering pendent on the table and then vanishing into the dark, crimson halls of a castle that would, sooner rather than later, belong to her.

~*~

I love that story. Rose Redd is so crazy and angsty! Yay angst! You might see more of her around here.

Another Creative Writing assignment. I can't help it, the teacher gave some good lessons! And these were all really fun to write. This one was supposed to be like Alfred Hitchcocks Psycho (hence the entire shower/bathroom setting) but I don't deal with non-fantasy stories so I made it horror fantasy!

~*~

The sound of water hitting tile echoed in the huge bathroom, deafening me to everything but my own thoughts. Moving with a briskness that betrayed my discomfort at being in a strange shower when no one else was home, I scrubbed shampoo into my scalp and rinsed it out. The sooner I was clean, the sooner I could go back to my book.
It wasn’t my shower, it wasn’t my bathroom, it wasn’t my house… I was jumping at the little creaks and groans that any old house has. I told myself over and over that I was being stupid, paranoid, jumpy, but no matter how many times I scolded myself (silently and in the confines of my own thoughts) I couldn’t help my own nerves.
From outside the bathroom door, closed despite the fact that no one else was in the house or was even expected in at least three days, there came a funny noise; a little like long, sharp nails being dragged slowly over wood.
I froze, my hand hovering over the bottle of hair-conditioner and stared through the opaque shower stall door that made the rest of the bathroom fuzzy and unreal. I waited, barely breathing and started to allow myself to think that it had been a branch scraping along the side of the house or some other, normal thing.
A low, soft clicking noise started then. It was quiet but made the hairs on the backs of my neck and arms stand on end, as if I was standing close to something electrical. I spun around, the soap and water beneath my feet easing the movement and snapped the water off.
Suddenly the bathroom was silent except for my soft breathing, sounding a little scratchy to me. I opened the door and grabbed the towel that was neatly folded on the shelf, wrapping it around me and shoving wet hanks of hair behind my ears distractedly.
As quietly as I could, I slid the glass-and-metal door over its tracks and stepped onto the soft rug that covered the chilly tiles. That horrible, odd clicking noise came again and this time, was accompanied by the sounds like nails over wood.
Three thousands images of serial killers, movie monsters and Hollywood horrors jumped into my mind and I felt panic rise to the back of my throat, hot and acidic as if I was getting ready to puke.
It’s nothing, I told myself firmly, I’ll open the door and there won’t be a thing out there… and won’t I feel foolish then?
Even so, I grabbed the plunger from beside the toilet; not much of a weapon but maybe it would be enough.
As I was about to step forward a saw a slight flicker of shadows dance beneath the floor and into the bathroom, as if something had been standing there but had quickly moved away.
My knees felt shaky and my skin felt cold despite the steam that filled the bathroom.
But it was okay, because nothing was out there and I was just jumping at shadows.
Shadows that moved across bathroom floors like something had known I was coming.

Psycho Story Continued

~*~

I made the short trip from the shower stall to the bathroom door, careful to keep to the wall so I didn’t throw shadows into the room bedroom beyond.
More of that odd clicking came from the other side of the door, followed by a soft thump and the nails-against-wood sound. It sounded almost like something was pawing at the floor with massive claws… But that was stupid, wasn’t it… Not like there was a lion out there, right?
Hysterical laughter bubbled into my mouth and it took a strong force of will not to giggle wildly and alert whatever was out there to my knowledge of them. Or it. I didn’t really know.
I turned the door know slowly and opened the door just enough to look out into the surrounding bedroom, keeping away from the crack beneath the door and ready to slam it shut again. Just in case.
I peeked out into the room and felt my entire body tense sharply, my eyes stretched wide and my mouth fell open in a silent scream. I could even feel my pupils contract as adrenaline was dumped into my blood.
Standing in the center of the room, with its back towards me was something right out of a nightmare. Whatever it was stood tall enough for the crown of its small, dark head to brush against the ceiling, which was at least 17 feet tall, if not more while its arms dangled awkwardly down to it’s knees where the six-inch fingers tipped in black talons that shone eerily in the warm light.
My brain stumbled and stuttered as I tried to understand exactly what I was seeing; from its back, a little below its broad shoulders, four other arms sprouted, each one tipped in those spidery fingers and skin-shredding claws.
It crouched down carefully, its long, spindly legs bunching and coiling oddly under it as if it had too-many joints and long, hair that was wide and flat, like seaweed, slid over the cream colored carpet beneath it.
Even its skin was gruesome; a pale green-grey with molted green, blue and purple veins standing out beneath it like it was some long-drowned thing and sores that oozed bloody white-yellow pus covered its many shoulders and back.
As I stared an odd smell wafted into the bathroom, carried by a city breeze that blew in from the window that I had not left open. I gagged softly as the stench assaulted my senses; a smell that was like rotting fish, like garbage moldering in the sun and the metallic smell of blood all rolled into one. It was thick enough to taste on the back of my tongue and vomit threatened again.
This time the thing heard my not-soft-enough gagging and turned on its long, stretched neck that bulged with twining, twisting veins and large bumps. At its slight movement some of those bumps erupted with a barely audible pop and more of that bloody yellow-white pus oozed down from the open sore. The stench of blood and garbage became stronger.
But it had been facing away from me, its back and those many arms displayed in frightening clarity so I watched, in silent, stunned horror as it neck turned and turned and turned and its bones cracked and popped and it’s skin stretched and stretched until it started to tear until it was looking right at me while the rest of its front faced away.
It stared at me with six rheumy eyes that wept pink-white ooze and bared layer upon layer of long, thin, broken teeth in a mouth that was too large for its narrow face. It opened its mouth and that horrible, so much more horrible now that I knew what was making it, sound of clicking and whirring came out from its throat as if there were millions of huge beetles in his stomach, clawing over one another and trying to escape through this things mouth.
The plunger had long since dropped from my hand so I had all my strength to scream in pure, bright, blinding terror and throw myself against the door, slapping it and, with numb, fumbling fingers, locked it.
I screamed and screamed, the noise echoing deafeningly off the walls and when huge, black talons dragged against the door, making it rattle on its hinges, I screamed louder, not knowing what else to do.

~*~

And that's that! When I turned this in, my teacher asked if I had given myself nightmares. :twisted: I was so proud!

These Next two posts were exploring settings and trying to envoke feeling with descriptions. I really like the winter version because, honestly, what's mroe depresseing than going to the beach in the middle of winter?

~*~

Winter:
The beach in the dreariest of winter months… is there anything bleaker?
The wind howls and screeches around me, chilling the tips of my ears and nipping at my cheeks and nose as if it was offended that I had dared set foot on the cool sand when there was no sun to warm the world.
The waves rush to the shore, eager to throw themselves against the sand only to retreat back into the salty breast of the ocean. With each wave comes the smell of salt, like tears at the back of my throat, and the fine mist of water that coats me in a grimy layer of chill.
The sky is iron grey above me and I can’t see more than five feet in front of my face for the thick, rolling fog that comes off the water. I know that the water is frigid… it’s a sign to how cold the air is that tendrils of mist still whisper from the green-grey waves and trail over the pallid sand underfoot, even when the water is cold enough to be bracing.
The wind abates briefly and the smell of fog, cold, damp and dreary assaults my nose and dampens my already lank hair, plastering it to my forehead and neck. I try to move it back but each hair seems to have grown suckers and the slimy tickling sensation that comes from moving my hair over my skin is enough to make me nauseous.
I give up on trying to move my hair and continue to trudge along the beach; a gloomy, one-woman parade where no one watches but the dark-eyed gulls who glare at my suspiciously and cry out to each other.
With every step I take, mist and ground fog cling and curl around my shoe, in a weak imitation of quicksand, trying to still my movement. Accompanying each step is the softest whisper of sand; grain against grain even at the slightest shift in my weight and now that the wind has quieted, if for however brief the reprieve, I can hear that so-soft sound, like the beach is whispering to itself, along with the roaring crash of the waves hurling themselves against the shore.
Then the wind gusts again, pushing me with bad tempered force and causing me to stumble a bit. The wind picks up the white foam that each wave creates at its tip and carries it off in silvery streamers, drifting lazily over the heaving mass of water, darkened from it true-blue by the sand that has been brought up from the violence of the waves.
Dune grass hisses like an angry cat as the wind rushes through it and trees, stripped of their leaves, rub branches together in imitation of the soft, warm murmure of summer leaves; much more eerie now that it’s only the bare branches that are grinding against one another.
One of the gulls calls out in its sad, mocking voice and takes off; dull, white wings arching in a drooping v against the grimly grey skies as it is lifted by an updraft over the cold water. It calls again, the sound fainter, losing its mocking quality and becoming a lonely echo over the beach.

Winter-Summer Descriptions Continued

~*~

Summer:
The beach is painfully crowded; brightly colored towels are snapped open and laid down on the baking sand. Coolers are nestled in the soft dunes, opened and cold drinks produced, passed around and cracked with much hissing and popping.
Children dart back and forth through the deep green waves, squealing in delight, calling out taunts and laughing at the replies. Braver children throw themselves headfirst into the waves, vanishing beneath the glittering emerald water only to pop back up, coughing and sputtering from the mouthful of salty sea that they swallowed.
Parents watch their children warily, one eye on the heaving water at all times, even while having a conversation with another parent, who also has their ever-watchful gaze pinned to a child darting in and out of the waves.
Enormous umbrellas provide artificial shade and a handful huddle beneath the shadow, paperback books out as they ignore the sun-bright world beyond the little sanctuary of darkness.
The sky is a bright, cheerful blue and the sun is the color of a lemon, sending down blinding rays of hot, bright light on those worshipers who lie on towels and allow the sun’s rays to darken their skin to a heated golden-brown.
The wind sallies through the scene, picking up unsecured towels and carrying it off as a young man chases after it, cursing freely. Those who lie in the path of the wind and its stolen towel are sprayed with sand as the young man kicks up waves of hot, golden rocks and the yells of surprise and outrage double until the towel is captured and returned to its place.
The smell of sunscreen and hot dogs mingle in the clear summer air, creating a perfume that would always, inexplicably be, the smell of summer if only one could bottle it up and sell it.
Hot, pink faces rush by to get a new layer of sunscreen lathered on by careful mothers and fathers who make their children sit under an umbrella for the lotion to dry, trying to get something healthy into impatient child and children grudgingly accept the offered fruit or drink of water, if only to please the over-worried parent so that they can get back to their fun.
The ocean reaches out to the beach goers eagerly, long fingers of water falling short of bare feet and dry towels. After reaching as far as it can, the water curls back in on itself invitingly, tempting children and adults alike with its soft, salty call.
Seagulls cry and squabble over the shred of food that was carelessly discarded by human hands, spreading white wings in a blatant challenge to another bird that hisses and screeches back; the birds circle and then each dive for the scrap of bread, flapping thin wings to get purchase on the slippery sand.

~*~

See what I mean? Winter was better.

And now, to go along with the Winter-Summer descriptions, we have day-night! I prefer night, I think.

~*~

Day:
The meadow was dripping in thick, golden sunshine. It clung to the bending stalks of grass that carpeted the meadow floor and bobbed in the gentle wind and was spattered over the deep green leaves of the surrounding oaks.
The air was warm, hazy and delicately scented with the perfume of summer flowers; sweet and fresh. Sun warmed earth and the smell of balmy grass joined the smell of flowers, creating a sleepy sort of aroma that hung over the entire meadow.
Butterflies fluttered from one delicate meadow-flower to the other, their shining wings glimmering in the lazy sunshine. Honey bees and bumble bees joined the delicate butterflies in each visit to the flowers that dipped beneath the weight of the heavy yellow and black bumble bee that didn’t look air-worthy.
Flies buzzed in sleepy circles above the sun-warmed ground, changing their lazy circles suddenly only to fall back into the stupefied spirals that seemed so natural to them.
The forest that cradled the clearing was filled with deep green softwoods that would, in a few more months, don their robes of gold, orange, red and brown in occasion for autumn. But now, in high summer, the entire forest was thickly robed in emerald.
Sitting in those branches were small song birds, chirping sleepily and half heartedly sometimes but more often simply staying quiet. They shared their branches with the webs of spiders, the spinners themselves hidden in the shadows and watching the lazy flies buzz in circles and all hoping that one of those lazy flies would buzz sleepily into a web.
The meadow was quiet, in its sun-drenched glory, and held a sleepy quality that came from all of the animals around the area, happily lying down until the sun started to set.
A grouse might explode from the underbrush, startling the birds awake to chirp fearfully at one another but soon everything would settle back down to its drowsy speed and the birds would go back to cheeping quietly to one another.
Far above, the deep blue sky shimmered with the suns warmth as puffy white clouds drifted over the ball of fire so far away. Below, a shadow was cast over the meadow and the birds hushed themselves suddenly, as if afraid that the darkness would stay if they did were not reverentially silent in the wake of the fearful shadow.
From another tree a crow laughed harshly, the sound echoing off the silence and cracking the peaceful day. Shining black wings spread, flapped and re-settled into a more comfortable position so that the bird could continue its harsh, screaming laughter.
The cloud drifted by and the meadow became bright once more, birds chirped softly and frantically, as if insulting the crow for not fearing the dark shadow that had interrupted the sunlight so suddenly. The crow merely laughed, not at all disturbed by the angry little birds.
Soon their cross voices became faint and thoughtfully sleepy once more. The soft hum of the meadow grew monotone and drowsy as flies flew in their circles, bees visited their flowers and crickets gave a soft, half-hearted chirp every once and a while.

Day-Night Descriptions Continued

~*~
Night:
The meadow seemed frosted with silver and glass beneath the eyelash of the moon. It was very quiet so late at night, with only the soft cricket song to provide any music to the darkness. But by now means was the night still.
Cloaked by the shifting shadows, a dark-tawny vixen silently padded through the grass, dark brown eyes flashing hungrily as she approached a small, beady-eyed mouse who had stilled suddenly, its whiskers trembling with fright; some instinct said that there was danger, but no instinct said where that danger was coming from.
The vixen paused, mid-step, one dark paw hovering above the soft, sandy earth. Her dark nose twitched as she breathed in the musky scent of the mouse, her mouth watered and her eyes glimmered like precious stones but she did not move a single muscle, waiting for the mouse to relax once more.
When the little brown rodent finally did, the vixen pounced, her muscles rippling beneath her smooth, tawny coat. The mouse was pinned beneath one paw and the vixen, triumphant in her meal, tossed the terrified creature up into the air, only to snatch it back with her sharp, white teeth and devour the little creature in a single swallow.
Satisfied and well fed, the vixen trotted off, her bushy tail trailing out behind her and, as she vanished into the darkness of the forest, the white plume at the end waved with triumph.
An owl hooted softly, as if commenting on the entire scene and spread its great wings wide, so that pale triangles of feathers stood out against the darkness of the forest.
Gossamer thin clouds trailed over the sliver of the moon, making the night even darker than it was before moving on with a gentle shove from the wind high, high above.
More wind, by far lower than that that pushed the clouds, rustled the top branches of the trees, making their leaves dance and shiver beneath the cool touch. The owl blinked its enormous yellow eyes and took off in complete silence, nothing more than a soft whisper of air to give any warning that it had been.
In the distance a coyote shrieked in laughter, startling a few mice hidden beneath the grass, but the sound was far away and though more high-pitched and frightening laughter joined in, it was not moving towards the clearing.
In the pale light of the moon, bats fluttered and emitted high, sharp screams, searching for bugs that would suit as meals and flying quickly and erratically about, chasing after small, blood sucking mosquitoes with their softly whining wings or they chased after terrified moths that flew in wildly zig-zagging patterns in a desperate attempt to free itself from its leathery-winged pursuer, but also careful of the fine, silver threads that were just as lethal to a small bug.
The forest around the clearing was dark, nothing but shadows lit by a daring shaft of moonlight that pierced the heart of darkness but did very little to light beneath the canopy. A small buck moved through the forest, his great, dark eyes wide and wary, enormous, woolly ears swiveling around to catch the slightest of sounds and his black nose flaring to catch even the faintest smell… like that of a little vixen who had left.
The stag froze, so still he could have been carved of wood as he tested the smell, weighed his chances and then moved on, still as cautious and wary as before.
At the edge of the meadow he looked out over the long, sweet grass that was dripping with cool, silver moonlight . When nothing moved in the meadow, the buck padded from the darkness of the forest to the relative lightness of the clearing, dipping his head to pull up a few stalks of the cool, sweet grass that flourished so well because of the sunlight that was poured into the meadow.
The bucks head jerked up from the grass, pointed tines stabbing at the velvety night sky and liquid eyes huge as it surveyed the clearing. He waited, every muscle tense and posed to dart back into the forest.
When nothing moved the stag, still slightly unnerved, turned around and bounded back into the protective shadows that the forest provided.

~*~

Night was also quite a bit longer than day... but, to me, the nightime has always been prettier than the day time.

SO! This was yet another creative writing assignment where we had to make our own pilot. I had been reading Clive Barker’s Imajica at the time so if you get that sort of surreal flavor, that’s why.

~*~

He waited.
Between the old, musty pages of his prison he waited in deafening silence… in maddening stillness. It had been ten thousand years since he had been captured and locked in the book. It had been two human generations since he had seen the light of day. So he had waited.
At least he had been captured in a book; he had been able to freely wander the worlds bound between covers but no where else. In a book, it seemed, there was little more to do than read.
Crow, he had been called when he had not been chained to a mass of pages. He had been Crow to the person that had captured him and so, Crow he remained until he was free of his bindings all together.
The book that he was locked in was hidden away in an old, dusty trunk. His prison was pushed into one corner, covered by old papers, yellowed with age and so delicate a breath would turn them into dust. Here he waited, long since forgotten by the waking world.
Crow stirred restlessly and the pages of his book fluttered like nervous birds. It was better not to move; it reminded of him what it was like to be free… and freedom was one thing he no longer believed in anymore.
Suddenly, from outside the trunk that contained his paged prison, there came heavy steps. Crow listened, not daring to hope.
The step was slow and languid; rolling like the gait of the long dead cowboy. But Crow, who had danced over the pages of history books, knew that there were no cowboys left. They were as dead as the mages and witches that had burned at the stake, as dead as the crusaders who had truly believed in what they were killing for… As dead as the world Crow had known.
No one had entered this room since the chest had been hidden there… Crow reached out his tendrils of magic and was surprised at how weak he was; once he had destroyed whole civilizations without breaking a sweat, and now even the simplest magic exhausted him.
The man who walked the room was a child to Crow, but by human standards he was old; nearly 60 with leathery skin and tough, work-hardened hands. Crow brushed through the man’s being, sensed the disease that was eating lungs and liver and withdrew with a small sneer.
“I know you’re in here,� the man mumbled to himself. Crow wondered who the man was talking to… surely he couldn’t be Crow’s newest master.
The man stood still for a moment, framed by the door and then he walked forward with that slow, cowboy gait of his and knelt in front of the chest where Crow’s book was contained.
The old, dying man unlocked the chest and flipped the top open. Fresh, cold air blasted in, ruffling the decades old papers into a whirl. Crow breathed deep through the pages in his book; it was a taste of freedom that was torturous because it never lasted.
Papers were pushed carelessly aside by the man’s calloused hands.
“I knew you were here,� he growled to himself and reached down and wrapped his fingers around Crow’s book.
Shock and elated, Crow had to force himself to not move and dance; he would have another chance at freedom! But, with the old man holding him, Crow didn’t dare to so much as breathe. He didn’t want to scare the old man away before he had even had a chance to lift the cover.
“Natasha’ll love you,� the cowboy said.
Natasha? Crow whispered.

Show Continued

~*~

In the Public Library, about 15 miles where Crow was questioning the cowboy that held him, Natasha browsed through towers of fantasy and science fiction.
Behind the delicate glasses, her hazel eyes sparkled; with a book was the one time when she was truly happy. She didn’t have many friends so the characters she read about became her friends, the dinky little town that she lived in wasn’t really home so the worlds that were contained between pages became her home.
Why deal with reality when fantasy was just a page away?
The wintery light that flooded in through the enormous windows illuminated the entire library. Outside children the same age as Natasha ran back and forth, engaged in a furious snow ball fight that sent innocent passerby’s scurrying for the safety of the indoors.
Natasha paid the children no mind. They were, after all, just children and she felt mild disdain for them.
Those children outside, children she knew by name and face since they went to the same middle school that she did, would spend the entire holiday break playing games, visiting friends and eagerly awaiting Christmas morning when they would rip open new toys and video games.
Natasha sniffed delicately; she would do nothing of that sort. She was far to refined to play stupid little kid games. That was why she was at the Library; she needed a nice, long book to keep her occupied over the holiday break.
A pretty, blue and gold book on one of the higher shelves looked interesting to Natasha. She was very small, even for her age, and even with the stool that the Library provided to its small patrons, Natasha had to stand on her tiptoes and stretch her arms to its fullest extent to brush her fingers across the spine of her chosen book.
While perched on the stool, Natasha could see between the shelves and she watched, in growing horror as three, pretty girls walked into the library. The leader of the pack was the tallest, prettiest and slenderest of the three.
“Amber Wilkes,� Natasha breathed.
As if Amber had heard her, she looked over to where Natasha was stretched out, trying to reach a now forgotten book. Amber’s pretty face split into a malicious smile and she, trailed by the two other girls, walked over.
“Well, hello, Natasha!� Amber said cheerfully. She looked up at the book at Natasha was reaching towards and smiled sweetly. She lifted up onto her toes and plucked the book from the shelf.
“H-hi, Amber,� Natasha said warily, stepping down from the stool.
Sometimes Amber would be nice to Natasha, giving her a soda or helping her with her homework, but then other times she would spread rumors about Natasha and push her down in puddles.
“This looks interesting,� Amber said, and smiled down at Natasha like they were best friends.

Show Continue

~*~

“Y-yeah,� the smaller girl said, not wanting to give Amber a reason to start being cruel.
“You remember last week when I gave you that note?� Amber asked, her pretty green eyes still on the book in her hand.
Natasha stared blankly, trying to remember what Amber was talking about.
“I tucked it into your book,� Amber said kindly.
“Oh!� Natasha exclaimed and then glanced around for the Librarian. When all of the girls saw that Mr. Graham was sitting at the front desk stamping books, they all relaxed.
“I’m glad you remember,� Amber giggled, “Did you give it to your brother?�
“C-Calvin?� Natasha asked uncertainly.
“That is your brother’s name,� Amber said, dropping her kind manner and rolling her eyes. “Did you give him the note?�
“Um,� Natasha said.
The book that Amber had tucked her note into had been bland. The plot had been slow ands the characters two dimensional. After getting to the middle of the book and finding it unsatisfactory, Natasha had returned it.
With the note still tucked inside.
“Well… I… meant to…� Natasha said haltingly. Amber’s pretty eyes became sharp and cold.
“Don’t lie to me, Natasha,� she said softly, stepping forward. The two other girls who followed amber around like dogs, closed in behind Natasha, blocking off her escape.
“The b-book,� Natasha stuttered, “W-wasn’t that g-g-good so I r-r-r--�
“You returned it?� Amber hissed furiously. Natasha shrank back. “Was my note…?�
Natasha nodded miserably.
A muscle in Amber’s jaw jumped and her eyes were wide and shiny. Natasha’s eyes were darting around for someone to help but they were in an isolated corner of the Library and there was no one around.
“Well,� Amber said softly, “I told you to do a very simple thing and you couldn’t even do that.�
She slid the book that Natasha had wanted back into its spot and dusted her hands together as if she had touched something gross.
“You lost something very important to me,� Amber whispered, “So I’m going to lose something very important of yours.�
The two girls wrapped long, manicured fingers around Natasha’s arms. She looked up at Amber through watering eyes, terrified of the older, taller girl.
Amber reached out and pulled Natasha’s glasses off her face. Natasha blinked as the entire world lost focus and everything became vague and fuzzy. She squinted, recognizing Amber only through the mass of dark hair around her heart-shaped face.
“Amber,� Natasha murmured, “can’t you just write another note? I’ll give it right to Calvin this time, I promise!�
Amber hesitated for a moment, twirling Natasha’s glasses around her fingers.
“It’s the principle of the matter, Natasha,� Amber said. “I can’t trust you to give Calvin a note.�

Show Continued

~*~

The taller girl dropped Natasha’s glasses on the floor and, with a quiet, meek crunching, ground her heel into the glass.
The two other girls let go of Natasha. She immediately went down on her knees, feeling for whatever was left of her glasses blindly.
“You think your life is bad now?� Amber whispered from somewhere above Natasha’s head. “Just wait until after break.�
Then, giggling and gossiping, the three girls left the Library.
Hot, angry tears were sliding silently down Natasha’s face as she felt for her glasses. She yelped when a piece of glass sliced open her finger but at least she had found her glasses.
One of the lenses had shattered completely; an edge of the broken glass had been the thing that had cut her finger. The other lens was simply badly cracked. But, when walking home in the snow, a cracked lens was better than nothing.
Natasha slipped the glasses back onto her face and walked out of the Library without a book.
The trip home was a miserable one; it was getting darker by the minute and the tears on Natasha’s face just made her colder.
She lived with her brother and Uncle Eddie at the edge of town, so it was a long, cold, wretched walk and she was still crying quietly to herself when she walked through the door.
“There she is!� her uncle called from the kitchen. He came stomping up to her and stopped. Natasha looked up at him. Having only one eye working properly was a little dizzying, so she pulled the remnants of the glasses off.
“Was it Amber again?� her uncle growled. Natasha sniffled and nodded, wiping her tears away on the arms of her sweater.
Her uncle sighed deeply, “Go sit in the kitchen, hon. I’ll go get extra pair.�
Natasha did as she was told, sitting at the scrubbed wooden table that, according to Uncle Eddie, had been in the family since they had come over as colonists. There was cup of hot cocoa sitting on the table.
She smiled a watery little smile and took a sip.
When Eddie came back, he had Natasha’s spare glasses held delicately in his paw-like hands. He handed them to his niece and sat down across from her as she fitted them on her nose.
He came into view, a great, grey handle-bar mustache above a smiling mouth. Startlingly pale blue eyes peered at her from their nest of crow’s feet.
“There’s my girl,� he said with gruff affection. Amber smiled at him, reaching under her new glasses to wipe away the remnant of tears.
“No use crying over it, right?� she asked. Uncle Eddie sighed, ruffling his mustache.
“S’pose not, hon. But I got something for you that might make you feel a bit better,� her uncle said, reaching into the big, leather bag that carried all of his horse-shoeing equipment.
Natasha leaned forward and a bright grin lit up her face when she saw a book in his hand. Uncle Eddie set on the table and pushed it forward.
“My grandfather read it to me whenever I’d go over,� Eddie said, “But my pa never really approved of reading when there was work to be done, and back then there was always work to be done. So I thought I’d give it to the only book worm we have in the family.�

Show Continued

~*~

“Thank you, Papa!� Natasha said, gathering the book to her and throwing her arms around her Uncle. Eddie chuckled and squeezed back.
Natasha was already running her fingers along the spine of the book eagerly and looked up at her uncle hopefully. The big man laughed, his mustache ruffling.
“No chores for you today,� he said, “Go have fun.�
“Thanks!� Natasha said. She took the last, burning gulp of hot cocoa and ran up to her room to get started on the book.
It was perfect timing that Uncle Eddie had decided to give her the book today, Natasha thought; after all, she hadn’t had a chance to pick out a holiday book from the library.
Once in her room, Natasha shrugged out of her backpack, coat and sweater before she kicked her door shut and settled on her bed to crack her newest book.
Ever inch of wall space in Natasha’s room was covered in mismatched book shelves and all of the bookshelves were crammed with books, all organized alphabetically and by date of acquisition.
Natasha took a moment to look at her collection with a prideful eye before opening the newest member.
As she opened the book her cut finger, covered in crusted blood, pressed against the pages and left a dark red-brown, spiraling fingerprint. Natasha sighed in dismay; she hated stained books.
The sigh turned into a yelp as the book began to shudder and shake in her hand and the fingerprint started glowing bright, bloody crimson. The pages flipped back and forth in a panicked frenzy and the cover began to heat until Natasha could no longer hold onto it.
She tossed it away from her and pressed herself into the corner of her room, her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes huge behind her glasses.
A great, shrieking wind spiraled out from the book, ripping books from the shelves, tugging the curtains into a tornado of cloth and violence. Natasha couldn’t draw a proper breath to scream for help, all she could do was watch in horror as more and more of her books were drawn into the whirlwind that came from the book.
The room was filled with light and sound; flashes of bright, impossible colors were accompanied by bell-like thunder that rattled the door in its frame. Natasha, buried her face in her arms and covered her ears, willing the violence to be over.
And suddenly it was.
Cautiously, Natasha peeked over her arm to see what had happened.
Her room was a mess; books, blankets and school supplies were scattered all over the floor. The curtains were hanging off the window lopsidedly and streaks of black covered the walls, as if they had been singed by lightning.
In the center of the room, standing over the book that had been the cause of the chaos, stood a tall, graceful man.
Natasha gaped at him in open wonder.
At first, she thought his skin was black. Not dark brown, but true black, like coal and obsidian… But then, as he turned to look around the room, she saw a play of colors, like he had the northern lights hidden just beneath his so-dark skin.

Show Continued

~*~

He had long, ragged hair the color of oil that fell in a tangled tumble down his back to his hips.
Natasha flushed bright red when she realized that the stranger was completely naked.
The man… though Natasha was no longer sure if he was human, had the palest eyes she had ever seen. They glinted like jade stones one minute and then rose quartz the next, as if they were made of the inside of an abalone shell. He lifted one long-fingered hand and gazed at the long, deadly talons. Each point looked sharp enough to rend skin from bone without any effort.
From the man’s chin a ragged swatch of dark hair grew, but no other facial hair hid his handsome features.
He looked down at his long, spindly hands with narrow, tip-tilted eyes and a blaze of fire suddenly erupted in the palm of his hand. Most of the flame was black, but contained within were flickers of the bright, impossible colors that had come from the book a few seconds ago.
The man held the flames up to his face so that its bright glow bathed his features.
Without turning his head, the creature looked over at Natasha and a slow smile curled his lips up.
“Hello, Natasha,� he said. His voice was deep, musical and accented, though Natasha didn’t know from where, “I am here to answer your every prayer.� Natasha drew a breath to scream. Uncle Eddie would come and kill this strange, fire-starting man that had come out of book and then they would burn the book and forget any of it had ever happened.
“If you scream I shall go back into the book and then you shall seem crazy,� the man said calmly. Natasha expelled her scream-breath in a soft squeak.
The stranger nodded a little and then closed his fingers around the fire. The glow came through in bright shots of light through the cracks of his fingers and danced over his naked body. Natasha blushed again and squeezed her eyes shut.
“You may look now, child,� the man said, sounding amused. Natasha opened one eye a little bit and saw that he was dressed as a priest might be dressed. His long, dark hair was tamed and pulled into an austere braid down his back and even his beard had been smoothed down so that it didn’t look so ragged.
“That is better,� he said softly, brushing non-existent dust off his sleeves.
“What are you?� Natasha whispered.
The man looked over at her with pale, pale eyes and smirked a little.
“I am a spirit,� he said, “Once I was worshiped as the god of magic… but those days have long since been over. Now I am a captive and you, my dear child, are my master.�
“What do you mean by that?�
“Which part?�
“The being a spirit part,� Natasha murmured, “Are you a… ghost?�
“Not quite that powerless,� the man said with a sneer, “A spirit is the energy of something. A spirit of a human is a small, weak, pathetic thing because that is all a human is. I am the spirit of magic so I was once very powerful.�
“Once?� Natasha echoed. The man looked at her with mounting dislike. Natasha shrank back against the wall.

Show Continued

~*~

“Yes,� he said bitterly, “Once I was feared. Once I had temples in my honor where the brave asked for my blessing and brought sacrifices for me… once I was a god, terrible and awful… but then I was captured by the Archangel Michael and here I stand; your slave until you die.�
Natasha stared at the man, the spirit, with her mouth hanging open. Dreamily she pinched herself hard enough to bruise. It hurt… a lot.
“Not a dream,� she said weakly.
“That is one of the most common responses to my kind,� the spirit said as he perched on nothing in the middle of the room, his feet three feet above the ground. “Humans desire magic with every fiber of their beings; they pray for it, for adventure and magic… and yet the moment magic presents itself, you all run away screaming or deny it exists. No wonder your world has been forsaken by the Powers.�
“My world?� Natasha asked, “There are others?�
“Countless worlds are beyond this one,� the spirit said dryly, “It is only human arrogance that says this is the one and only world.�
“And… what are the Powers?�
The spirit grimaced a little, “The Divine.�
“You mean… God?� Natasha whispered. The spirit rolled his pale eyes and Natasha got dizzy from the rainbow of colors that they changed to in that simple movement.
“If you must choose such a simple word so you can wrap your pitiful mind around the concept, then yes, God,� the spirit said.
“Is there a devil too?� Natasha asked. The spirit gave her a very odd look.
“Of course there is,� he said slowly. “There are hundreds of them.�
“Are there hundreds of gods too?�
“More,� the spirit said, “Each world must have its separate God, mustn’t it?�
“Wow,� Natasha said, her mind was reeling.
The spirit gazed at her curiously for a long moment; now that she had accepted him as part of her reality it seemed that she was adjusting remarkably well, especially for a child.
Then again, perhaps it was children who were more open to the truth than adults.
“What do I call you?� Natasha asked shyly.
“I have had many names… but the first name I ever had was Crow,� the spirit said, “so you may call me that.�
Natasha slid from the bed and walked forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. When they were an arms length away, she held out her hand.
“I’m Natasha,� she said with a shy smile.
Crow smirked a little and held her tiny hand in his and pressed chilly lips to the backs of her knuckles.
“A true honor, my lady,� he purred.
She was too young to understand his attempted seductions so she simply grinned at him. Crow had to restrain an exasperated sigh.
“So are you a genie?� Natasha asked.
Crow tilted his head to one side and asked, “Do you mean djinn?�
Natasha nodded and Crow frowned a little, not out of anger but out of thoughtfulness.

Show Continued

~*~

“I have been called as such,� he said, “but I am no such thing.�
“But you do grant wishes, right?� Natasha asked breathlessly.
“That I do, child,� Crow said easily.
“How many wishes to I get?� she asked. Crow raised an eyebrow; it was a question he had not been asked in a very, very long time.
“As many as you can think of, child,� he said calmly. Natasha looked like she might start floating from her elation.
“Do the wishes have rules?� she asked.
“None at all,� Crow said.
“Is there a catch to all this?�
“A catch?� Crow asked with a smirk, “No. They are no strings attached wishes.�
Natasha giggled, jumping up and down. Crow watched her with both eyebrows raised; what strange creatures human children were.
“Alright, alright,� Natasha said, panting. “I know my first wish.�
“By all means,� Crow said dryly, waving a hand to indicate that she should continue.
“I wish I didn’t need glasses,� Natasha said so quickly that the sentence blurred into one word.
“Easy enough,� Crow said softly, “Come here, child.�
Natasha stepped closer to him without any hesitation or fear and the spirit hooked one long, deadly claw on the bridge of her glasses and pulled them away before carefully covering her eyes with his hand.
“This will feel strange, child,� Crow warned.
Natasha gasped as some of the strange, colorful fire spread from the spirits hand. It felt look putting warm honey into her eyes and, even after he had pulled his hand away, she kept blinking to rid herself of the sensation.
But when she finally stopped blinking she could see perfectly without her glasses.
“Amazing,� Natasha said. Crow had put her useless glasses on her desk and was now looking at her expectantly.
“What is your next wish, child?� he asked.
“Tell me more about the other worlds,� Natasha said.
Crow looked a little taken aback; usually humans simply wanted power, money or other useless frivolities. This child wanted knowledge… perhaps she was smarter than she looked.
Crow set about explaining the worlds that he had visited before he had been bound to the book. He described in great deal to the awed, silent and wide-eyed child of the great sky-castles that existed in one world and then dazzled her with the tales of monstrous beasts that roamed black-sand beaches in another.
It was nice to have such an attentive listener, even if she was just a child.
She vanished for a short time to go eat but when she returned she had a hundred new questions of the worlds that Crow had walked. She fell asleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning listening to the spirit.
But when, she woke in the afternoon, Natasha knew that she had spent too much time on herself and told Crow, in no uncertain terms, that they were going to go do her holiday shopping.

Show Continued

~*~

“Child,� Crow had said slowly, staring fixedly at a wall, “I don’t think I should accompany you.�
“Nonsense,� Natasha said, dressing. She also faced a wall and her face was hot with embarrassment. “You can just create a disguise, can’t you?�
“And how shall you explain my presence to the cowboy?� Crow asked.
“The cowboy? You mean Uncle Eddie?� Natasha said, turning and staring at the spirit after she was dressed. “I suppose he is a lot like a cowboy, isn’t he? Well… you’ll just have to make a disguise that looks like a kid my age.�
“I don’t suppose I could just be invisible?� Crow asked, cringing away from even looking like a human.
“That would work,� Natasha said, pulling her jacket on.
Relieved that he did not have to demean himself by appearing as a human child, Crow cast a simple invisibility charm on himself.
“Don’t forget the book, child,� he said. Natasha looked around, frowning.
“This is going to be a little strange,� she muttered and picked up the book, “Why do we need it?�
“It is my prison, child,� Crow said, “I can’t go very far from it.�
Natasha bit her lip a little out of sympathy and slipped the book into a small messenger bag that Uncle Eddie had given her for her last birthday, when she had turned thirteen.
Then she walked out, Crow following her at a slow stride.
When they were downtown, Natasha wished for enough money to take care of Uncle Eddie and Calvin’s every possible Christmas wish and, with Crow trailing behind, walked in and out of stores, looking for gifts.
“That’s a new store,� Natasha said to Crow as she carefully shifted her load of bags from one hand to another. Crow followed her gaze and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
“Gregory’s Antique Emporium,� Natasha read, “Antiques… maybe there’s something in there for Uncle Eddie.�
“Be careful, child,� Crow murmured. Natasha looked back to where his voice had come from and then back at the store.
“Is it dangerous?� Natasha whispered.
“It could be,� the spirit said, “be cautious.�
“You… you won’t leave me, will you?� Natasha asked uncertainly.
“I can’t,� Crow told her, “You are my master.�
Oddly, this did not seem to reassure the girl. But she went towards the store nonetheless.
When she walked in a bell chimed softly somewhere in the store.
Crow walked in behind the girl, keeping a hand on her shoulder. There were knick-knacks and bric-a-brac everywhere. A large, mahogany wardrobe claimed the most of the back of the store and Persian carpets were leaned against another wall.
There was nothing in the store that looked particularly threatening… and yet, Crow couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding.
“Hello, little one,� a voice said from the back of the store. Natasha jumped a little and the voice laughed kindly, “Didn’t mean to startle you.�
“I just didn’t see you,� Natasha said, scanning the shadows.

Show Continued

~*~

“I know,� the voice said calmly. He stepped out from behind the counter, seeming to melt out from the shadows. He was sword-thin with piercing black eyes and a sharp-edged smile.
“Most children don’t come into antique shops,� the man said, leaving the comment open.
“I’m not like most children,� Natasha said, “I prefer reading to playing and tea to soda.�
“Ah!� the man said with another sharp smile, “A kindred spirit. I much rather spend my holidays with a good book than with anyone else.�
“Me too!� Natasha said, stepping away from Crow. The spirit let his hand drop but followed after the girl carefully.
“I’m glad to hear that I’m not the only one in this world,� the man said with a smile, he held out his hand to Natasha, “My name is Gregory.�
“I’m Natasha,� she said, shaking his hand. His skin felt dry and papery under her fingers.
“Well, Natasha, what are you looking for?�
“Nothing in particular,� Natasha replied, wandering away from Gregory, “Just looking.�
“Let me know if you see anything you like!� Gregory said and turned back to whatever he had been doing before Natasha had walked in.
Crow watched Gregory for a moment before following Natasha. She was exclaiming over the music boxes at the back of the store. Crow stood near her and watched Gregory.
There was magic, thick in this store and it was making the spirit nervous.
“Oh,� Natasha breathed, “Crow, look at these.�
The spirit glanced over briefly, not really paying attention. But when he saw what she was staring out, his pale eyes became wide.
“Ah,� Gregory said. Crow snapped his neck around so fast, his features blurred. He stared at Gregory who was looking right through Crow and at Natasha, “You’ve found the Seven Jewels. It’s a lovely collection, isn’t…�
The man’s voice trailed off as he stared at the collection.
It was made up of seven large jewels; purple, green, yellow, blue, red, white and black. Six of the seven were lovely, but nothing special… but the black one was shining and glittering as if a fire was burning from within.
Gregory was staring at the seventh gem with bright, hungry eyes.
“My dear,� he said softly to Natasha, “may I ask you an odd question?�
“Sure,� Natasha said with a smile at her new friend.
“There’s a book I’ve been looking every where for. Each town I move to I ask special children like you… kids that like to read, if they’ve seen this book,� Gregory said, putting his arm around Natasha.
“What kind of book?� Natasha asked uncertainly.
“A very special book,� Gregory murmured, looking down at Natasha, “It tells the story of a spirit name Crow.�
In her mind, Natasha suddenly heard Crow’s voice: Get away from him, child. He’s a dangerous man.

Show Continued

~*~

Natasha pulled away from Gregory and closer to Crow, who set his hands on her shoulders.
“You gave seen it, haven’t you?� Gregory asked softly, “Where is it?�
Natasha’s fingers tightened around her little messenger bag protectively. Crow squeezed Natasha’s shoulder gently, reassuring and warning he had seen that Gregory’s sharp eyes had caught the minute curling of her fingers.
The dark eyed man took a slow step forward.
“You have it?� he breathed, “Here? Now?�
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,� Natasha said, trying to sound haughty. She reached up and put her hand on top of Crow’s for comfort. He squeezed her hand and began backing away from Gregory. Natasha followed his steps blindly.
“Have you opened the book?� Gregory asked gently, “Have you released the spirit? Because if you have child, it’s very dangerous for you… he could kill you, he’s done it before.�
“He has not!� Natasha snapped.
Gregory’s dark eyes widened sharply and he stepped forward again.
“So you have opened the book,� he said angrily, “That will complicate matters a little… But it’s just a minor set back. Hand over the book, Natasha.�
Crow dropped the invisibility spell and glared at Gregory. The man’s breath rushed out his mouth in a low oath.
“The Spirit of Magic, one of the Blessed Seven… After years and years of searching, my collection is almost complete,� Gregory breathed.
“How many of the Seven do you have, Gregory?� Crow asked coldly.
“I need only you and the Lady of White,� Gregory said, stepping forward. Crow drew Natasha close to him and stepped back again. His back was pressed against a wall.
“Be grateful that you have not met her,� Crow said. “She will not be easily captured.�
“But I have all the others… Didn’t you see them in their pretty prisons?�
“You’re a small, weak, cowardly little man,� Crow said darkly, “and you will be dead sooner than you think.�
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be dead any time soon, Crow,� Gregory said, “I have been around longer than you would believe. Now… give me the book, girl.�
“No,� Natasha whispered.
Gregory’s dark eyes narrowed. Moving with the speed of a striking snake he lunged forward and hooked suddenly long claws into the bag, ripping it apart. The book fell to the floor. Gregory stooped to snatch it up but Natasha was there a breath before him; as her hands closed around the book, Gregory’s hands clamped around her wrists.
“Let it go,� he hissed. Then he smiled at her kindly, “You do not understand what sort of creatures these things are, my dear, sweet child. These are the liars of the world; they wish only to be free of their prisons so that they may wreak havoc on the world of man… Please, let me have the book and then, together we can capture the seventh spirit and the world will be safer.�
Natasha could feel her grip on the book relaxing, could feel her entire body slumping towards the floor as if she was falling asleep; it was like he was reaching into her brain and pressing the power button.
“Crow…� Natasha whispered hoarsely, “Help me.�

Show Continued

~*~

And then the spirit was there, in her mind in a blaze of the colorful fire he controlled, he burned away Gregory’s magic, washed away the sleepiness. Natasha’s hands clamped around Crow’s book tight enough to make her knuckles shine white.
“I don’t like you,� she hissed at Gregory and then kicked him hard in the shin.
Crow wrapped his arms around Natasha’s waist and pulled her away from Gregory, who was howling in pain, clutching his leg. Crow was flitting around the store as if he was a real bird and not just one in name.
Gregory came running after them, shoving shelves over in a shower of sparkling baubles until the store was covered in broken pieces and the way to the spirit and Natasha was clear.
Gregory planted his feet; black eyes locked on Crow, and curled his fingers into claws, smiling a ghastly smile up at Natasha. Between his fingers a bright, snaking light began to grow; poison red and as angry as his eyes.
“That’s stolen magic,� Crow told Natasha. He held out his hand and some of the colorful fire appeared there. “That’s… powerful stolen magic.�
“But you can beat him, right?� Natasha asked, “He won’t hurt you, will he?�
“I’m not sure… I’m not as strong as I once was,� Crow replied, not looking away from Gregory.
“If the girl’s dead, you belong to me, Crow!� Gregory snarled and threw a fistful of that angry magic at Crow and Natasha. Crow flung his handful of fire at the Magic and jumped out of the way.
Where the two magics met, an explosion erupted, throwing Gregory across the store. He hit the wall and slumped for a moment before forcing himself back to his feet. Crow was more agile; he was blown off his course and then changed with it so that, when he hit the wall, it was with his feet and he simply pushed off.
The magic had obviously taxed him. He was breathing hard and his dark, colorful skin was shining with sweat.
“Crow? Are you alright?� Natasha cried.
“No,� he grunted, watching Gregory create another ball of that poison light. Natasha looked over and fear made her stomach squirm.
“I wish we were somewhere safe!� she screamed. Crow grinned and pushed backwards from the counter where he had perched. A portal of bright, dancing lights opened around him and swallowed the spirit and Natasha…
Gregory looked up at where Crow had been a moment ago and felt a bitter resentment and disappointment welling up inside him… but he controlled it.
He knew where Crow would go… and he would meet the spirit there, and the little girl. Carefully, Gregory put the Seven Jewels into a leather pouch and ripped open the fabric of the world.
Crow’s portal had opened up with a sigh of delight, as if the world welcomed him, Gregory’s portal screamed and shrieked. The man paid no mind to the pain he was causing the worlds and stepped through using his stolen magic to pursue his prey.

Show Continued

~*~

Travelling through the fiery place between two worlds was a breath taking experience. Colors, thoughts, feeling, dreams, nightmares… it all passed by so quickly that Natasha was struggling to breathe. She clung to Crow, pressing her face into his chest and trying not to see.
Sounds assaulted her; crying, laughing, screaming, singing, moaning, gasping… it was like being in a reversed vacuum. Instead of the nothingness that it should have been it was a maddening everything.
And then, as suddenly as it had started, it all stopped.
There was still sound, the hustle and bustle of a city, but compared to the cacophony of the non-place they had just gone through, it was library quiet.
“What,� Natasha whimpered, “was that?�
Crow looked down at the child he held; she was shaking and cold to the touch.
“Have you ever had those thoughts that you can’t remember a moment later?� he asked gently, kneeling so he could set Natasha on the ground; he didn’t think her legs would hold up right now.
Natasha nodded, her eyes still closed tightly and refused to let go of Crow.
“All of those thoughts, along with the dreams you can’t remember in the morning and memories that fade over time, go there,� Crow explained, “And they wait until they have an opening to return to one of the worlds. That’s why, you sometimes remember what you were thinking in the middle of the night, or remember something that happened a long time ago… Sometimes though the memories find new people to enter and that’s why you can’t stop thinking of a certain song, or phrase, or place.�
“Oh,� Natasha said softly.
“It’s a bit surprising when you first go through it,� Crow said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you.�
“It’s alright. You didn’t have the chance,� Natasha said and then leaned away and opening her eyes. She looked up at Crow and blinked.
His skin had lost the lovely, shifting colors and the so-dark hue… he looked human. Even his pale eyes had settled on a jade-green tone.
“It’s my disguise,� he said calmly, helping Natasha to her feet. “For now it would be better if no one knew what I was.�
“Alright,� Natasha said uncertainly. “Will we have to go back through the memory place to get back ton Earth?�
Crow looked down at Natasha and frowned a little, “We can’t go back.�
“What do you mean?� she whispered.
“Traveling from Earth to the other worlds is easier than traveling back to Earth… When people stopped believing in magic on your world it created a barrier that doesn’t let anything magic back in. Do you understand?�
“But it lets things out,� Natasha said. “Like a one way mirror.�
Crow nodded. Natasha looked up at him, a question shining in her eyes. Crow sighed deeply.
“You will never go back, child,� he said gently. “I’m sorry.�

~*~

And that's it! I really like Crow but I wish I had been able to expand on his slow warming to Natasha more than I did... but it was only supposed to be three pages at most and I have almost 13. So, you know, had to cut back a bit.

This was a birthday story star for a very good friend of mine :D

~*~

Fifteen years ago Eliza was born. She was born in the middle of a screaming storm in the middle of a small town in Ireland, where her parents were staying do her mothers job.
Fifteen seconds ago Eliza stepped into her closet to hang up her coat and stepped out to a forest… her sweater still clutched in her hand.
“Oh…� she said softly, looking around with a half disappointed half amused look on her face.
Eliza looked up at the sky and was rewarded when a gossamer thin cloud whispered past a bright orange moon… and then covered another moon that was the color of blood. The moons reflected into her bright silver eyes and turned her normally pale skin a tone of peach that was so perfect as to be princess like.
“Crap.�
She let her eyes fall from the moons and began to take in her surroundings, the moons (a third had joined the other two this one looked like the blushing cheek of a delicate girl) and to the forest around her.
The trees were as tall as sky scrapers and as wide as an apartment complex and where she stood was one of the few places where the triple moon light could get through; it was a small clearing, not ten feet across, and the ground rippled with roots that were as wide as Eliza was tall, each one shining with silver and blue sap.
“Double crap.�
There was very little brush surrounding the trees but there were great, spiraling vines that climbed up the monsters, some of them blooming with the most amazing flowers; each one had pear shaped petals with the wide part connected to a center that was shaped like a crown and dusted with sparkling golden pollen. Each one of those petals was a deep, luscious crimson and tipped in black and each one of them smelled like cinnamon and honey.
Eliza didn’t take too much note of these, though one part of her mind admired their incredible beauty, the rest of her mind was focused on where she was and how she arrived there.
Carefully, she turned in a circled, aware that one misstep could lead to a sprained or even broken ankle from the snarling roots. She looked around her, behind her, and above her but she found no closet in the middle of all the forest, and there was plenty of forest to scan over; it went for miles and miles in each direction and almost all of it was in shadow save for the little puddle of light where Eliza stood, gripping her sweater like it was the only solid thing within reach.
Eliza stepped forward carefully, balancing each tennis shoe on a root before placing her weight upon it. Her first step ended in pain as a branch snagged at her loosely braided black hair, yanking her head backwards.
She turned and glared at the offending branch, twisting her arms around her hair and yanking… and as if it understood her intent, the branch released the lock of hair letting the braid flop back onto Eliza’s back with the tip swinging just above her knees.
The hard yank that apparently wasn’t needed threw Eliza off balance and she toppled forward, towards the nest of vines. It was only from years of dodging poking, tickling hands that Eliza managed to stay on her feet.
“This sucks,� she growled to no one in particular.

Birthday Story Continued

~*~

“Oh, it can’t be that bad, lovely!� said a cheerful voice somewhere near Eliza’ knees. Startled, she glanced down and then, just as quickly, looked away again, closing her eyes as if trying to will the forest and the knee-high voices away.
“No. No, no, no, no, no, no. I am… having a hallucination. I’m tired; I just ate a bad burrito; I breathed in swamp gas; I hit my head. I am not in the middle of a forest in my closet having a conversation with a talking cat!�
“Not much of a conversation, love,� the cat said, looking up at Eliza with huge yellow eyes that gleamed up from a gray face.
“Shh!� she hissed at the animal. “You aren’t there.�
“Yes. Well. Forgive me for popping your little bubble of a delusion but I am indeed, here,� the cat said dryly. Had it been under normal circumstances Eliza would have chortled.
“I… I don’t suppose you know where here is, do you?� Eliza asked.
“A forest would be a good answer, right now I think,� the animal replied sarcastically. “But as I doubt that would help you I will tell you this; I was simply sitting in my room reading a book when I got up to get some water and when I came back and walked through my bedroom door I was here.�
“You were reading a book?� Eliza asked, finally opening her eyes and looking down at the cat. “How did you turn the pages?�
“I wasn’t always a cat, you silly girl,� said the cat. “I turned into a cat when I walked into my bedroom again.�
“Of course,� Eliza muttered, “how stupid of me.�
“It’s alright, love, we all have stupid moments,� the cat said with a smirk. Eliza glared down at the gray cat and he turned his attention to his paw, looking over his long, pearly claws.
“Alright,� the girl said, looking around the forest. “I need to get out of the forest and find…� she paused and considered for a moment then grinned. “I need to find a closet!�
“Don’t be silly!� the cat said. “You don’t need to find a closet; you need to find your closet. We’re in an alternate reality so you need to find your alternate self and go through your alternate closet.�
“Ah. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?� Eliza asked.
“Because you aren’t as smart as me,� the cat said smugly. Slowly the girl turned to him and, balancing with a ballerina’s precision, crouched down so they were almost on eye level.
“Keep in mind, kitty…� she said softly, the cat perked up his ears and watched her carefully… “that I am under a lot of stress right now, and I don’t respond well to snippy comment under pressure… so… hush!�
“Well said, love, but please don’t call me kitty again. My name is Aaron,� the cat said.
“Fine.�
Eliza straightened and looked around the forest again, narrowing her eyes in thought. When she chose a direction she chose the post primal; forward. And as she started to walk away Aaron sprang up and clawed his way up her arm, now covered by the sweater, until her was perched on her shoulder.
With a sigh, the fifteen-year-old resigned herself to whatever was to come and muttered under her breath, “Happy Birthday, Eliza.�

~*~

That's it! The friend liked the cat best XD

I have no idea what this is. It demanded to be written so I wrote it.

~*~

Oh lost and forsaken country that burns within my head, behind my eyes, I see you. You call to me with a voice of sweet endlessness. You tell me stories in song and in dance and you hold secrets I could never understand.
Oh sweet world I hold within me. Tell me your secrets and I shall tell you mine! Oh secret world I hold within me, tell me your sweetness and I shall share with you mine.
Do you remember me, oh sweet, forsaken city? Do you recall how I wandered your gilded roads and ivory halls? Do you recall how much I loved to walk within you? Could you forgive me for abandoning you? Forgive me, lost and forsaken world, for I am a wanderer and no world can ever possess me completely.
I recall, oh my sweet city, how I gazed upon you for the first time. How glorious you shone beneath the light of the gilded sun. I recall how the sea shone like silver silk, how your towers and parapets reached to pierce the Dalmatian sky. You call to me, my adored city. I wish to return to your shining walls.
But you have bared the doors against me, my sweet city, you have long since abandoned me to the coldness of the outside world… outside your city walls is no world but a blasted and damned realm where only the lost and broken wander.
How foolish was I to leave you! How foolish was I to turn away. For here I stand, gazing down upon your twisting, labyrinthine streets and only wish to see them once more. Once more to walk through your walls, my sweet city, please allow me this.
I wish for nothing more than to drink from the cool fountains in the courtyards again, sweet city, I wish only to bask in the glory that is the center palace… I wish only to pass through these iron doors that lock me out with the cold solidity of the seraphim guarding the gated of Eden.
Sweet city, forgive me, I was wrong.

~*~

That's it!