Jim’s – place sketch

RGH – person sketch

Papa and Becky – dialogue

The Justice – short story

By: Scott Moore

Where am I?

This is not my ocean.  The speakers are too loud – the waves are wrong.  The pier is wrong.  I don’t believe him – mom and dad will come back, they always do.  *OFF* the blankness of the walls was better than the Nevada Beach default – Mom and dad knew I liked Venice Beach.  Seeing it reminded me of the stories they told of how mom’s parents met there.  It seemed so magical.  I wish we could have seen it before you needed scuba gear…

Without the waves I could hear a man’s voice.  I could hear my name – He was explaining about me being safe and how I was doing as well as expected and seemingly in shock.  He seemed to be arguing, he felt my family should be told sooner than later.  I tried to listen, to understand, but my eyelids are too heavy.

Three of us were all that shown back when I stared at my parents coffins.  I looked so small and weak sandwiched in-between my host and my Ms. May.  My hand smelled of coconut lotion once I reclaimed it from her.  In the car on the way back to Mr. Thompson’s house, Ms. May took my lotion free hand (rendering me a short pina colada) and told me it is ok to cry and everything else actors scriptfully say at their given cues.  I stopped listening.  She realized and asking me to look at her … I looked.  I realized she still had my hand and was further imbuing that horrid lotion into my skin forcing her extended presence after her actually one had finally vanished.  “God has a plan, your parents died for this country and God will bring something good out of that.  God would not let something bad happen to a boy like you.”  Her words were meant to make me feel better but I was weary of her scriptfullness.

I recognized the clinking as plates and wine glasses.  How can he be having a party?  My parents died a week ago!  I set the wall dial to show downstairs.  As what I had taken the time to download of Venice beach slowly dissolved away and the image of the dining room slowly formed, women dressed like the old pictures of maids with their black cotton dresses and while lace aprons tied in the back slowly took shape.  This was too much; I am not staying for a party.  I’m leaving.

Once inside I quietly returned to my room.  A card sat on my pillow. My name had been carefully written in self-embossing ink.  Now I was mad for leaving, there was no signature on the card; I had missed whoever it was…

I knew your father.  Something I promised to show you.  Library 0900 tomorrow.

I’ve never been to the library … I don’t know anyone who has besides mom and dad.  Apple said everything known could be quickly downloaded to my wall panels….

He said he knew my father.

I stood in front of the scanner along the wall and selected left arm on the screen.  It beeped.  My face with the letters approved flashed on the screen.  The door opened and it was dark. My pupils adjusted…huge bookshelves towered around me.  So many colors – all covered with gray film that came off into the air when you touched it.  The further back I walked the more familiar things became … Books to Compact Disks to long tables with projecting wall panels set into them all glowing with that familiar dim blue signaling their readiness to be commanded to use.  I began to realize there was no sound in the room except the panels hums.  I haven’t seen anyone.  Its 0859 …. Footsteps … what should I do?  The Compact disk shelves were dense enough to hide me.  A tall man, old styled hat, perfectly cleaned hair and face, military uniform with polished buttons and matching cufflinks, he had a case protecting something small in his left hand as he walked past me.  After passing me he called my name.  I stepped out from my place acting as if to have been browsing among this collection that was so foreign to me.  Tilting his head towards the back wall he resumed his stride.  Following him a small scanner came into view on the wall.  He unfastened the case and pulled out two dog tags.  Again a beep.  My parents’ faces came onto the screen along with the words secure.  A door cut itself from the solid wall.  Following him through the sudden door, I was immediately struck by a terrifying machine.  Not only primitive but archaic..a huge metal piece outlined the shape of a person with a large globe head filled with still gel.  There were many different colored cables running not only from the globe but also from places to put your arms – huge elbow gloves like chainmail that had sprouted its own wire forest.  All of this was attached to a gear conglomeration that obviously moved the platform into something resembling a table or I guess a makeshift bed.  Puke was crawling up my throat trying to escape and distract this man so I could run away but nothing came for the moment.  He said nothing.  He walked up to the machine and inserted a chip at the crown of the globe head and the gel immediately lit up, the machine almost came to life… the body support clamps and the gel drained out of the globe which eventually opened, the wires retracted from the gloves revealing needles instead of wired ends as the retreated.  Again I was going to run away but I realized the door had re-secured its place into the wall and I had no idea where or how to get out.  No escape but to please my captor… I walked up to the machine and placed my arms into the gloves, without a word the man clamped the globe around my neck and I felt it form a seal around me…the gel began to pour in around my head.  I began gasping for air and tried to move my arms, my body, anything… but I had been clamped down.  I began to breathe deeply to prepare for my final breath.   It came.  I held it.  The gel began covering my eyes.  I synched them shut.  Something stabbed into my arm, the pain was momentary but noticeable.  The gel was done pumping, I could hear a voice but my fear and the headgear muted the words to being indistinguishable.  My lungs were burning, I needed air, I needed to breathe, my mind began to take over itself.  I couldn’t focus.  Black stars and colored dots began to appear around my eyelids.

I awoke in a valley.  A singing voice materialized a mouth which slowly bled its color like a spring head.  Its oozing trickled down itself slowly building a young woman in a toga the way a volcano would build an island.  She walked up to me and asked me if I would prefer to be a God or a mortal.  Having no idea what was going on I opened my mouth to ask what was happening and strange sounds came out.  She understood, I understood…but this was not any language I knew.  I tried to ask a question but although I was trying to, all I could say was mortal or God.  I tried a few times and she stared at me blankly.  Deciding this was some sort of mental escape before my body fully died I decided to pick one to see what would happen while I still had some time.    I answered.  Slowly the valley and the girl were swept away with the outgoing tide.

I was left in darkness.  After the waves of image had subsided my mind attempted a process job on everything that had occurred.  Why would my father want me to see this?  What was this man?  A blistering ray of heat shot over my back.  I whipped around immediately straining my eyes in the darkness to find its soure.  Stepping forwards I was groping at whatever was there..connection…Searing metal met my flesh and the pain began traveling up my arm, I was trapped again.  Fooled again.  Tears streamed down my face without my consent.  It was laughing, screaming, whimpering.  The feeling was intensifying as it moved up my arm to my brain.  Everything stopped.  I opened my eyes and felt so powerful.  Ther was something in my hair, leaves.  I threw them off of me and never heard them land, instead, there weight was back on my hair.  A speck of light appeared in the thing I was holding, a cup.  It slowly filled the cup and began to overflow.  Slowly the light spread outwards instead of falling down the cup.  Slowly I was back in the valley and the light spread into the distance.  Now the rolling hills were covered with a vineyard.  A woman’s voice behind me – I recognized it from the last time I had been in this place.  I turned.  “I am Metis.  Do you know where you are?”  This was all too much, I couldn’t slow down my thoughts enough to choose one to articulate.  The wind warmed my skin and smelled sweet with grape blossoms.  She smiled and approached me.  That smile was so reassuring, she was graceful, beautiful.  “I see you’ve found your cup” Looking down, I realized she was speaking of the medal that had caused me such painful jubilation.  It was stunning, perfect craftsmanship, ornate with etchings of women dancing and grapes growing next to ivy leaves.  “Come, we must go and see Anake, she has something to give you”  I did not will my legs to move, but they did, I followed her.

I could not fine my cup.  How infuriating.  The Maenads began their nervous chatter hoping for and dreading my impending loss of control and the explosion of passion and emotion that would couple that moment.  I enjoyed doing it to them but couldn’t bring myself to do it on purpose since I knew in addition to the pleasure it caused them pain.  Anake said for me to enjoy myself and wait… it had been three months.  Metis had shown me to Lamark, hidden somewhere in Oklahoma, far from Los Angelos where I was being awaited by my followers.  My return was a secret until Caerus decided to notify me otherwise.  Finally..here it is, under my chair, they must of hidden it from me hoping for an outburst.  I told the women to go gather flowers from the fields and the men to find us meat for a feast tonight.  We had not partied since Wednesday and it was Sunday after all.  While they were gone I slept on my couch.  While I was sleeping a dream came to me.  Thanarus came to me and touched my chest over my heart.  I awoke with a burning sensation in my chest and short of breath.  The Maenads sense my pain and ran back to me.  Being around them brought me some comfort but we did not know how to assuage the pain.  Metis suddenly appeared and sent my Maenads back on their tasks promising I will be happier with their meat and flowers.  “Morpheus came to me and explained Alastor and Peitha had visited Thanarus and incited him to kill you.  Luckily, you are watched over by Iapetos so Thanarus could not kill you this time.  Who is your fastest runner?”  I was glad Metis had arrived, she always knew what to do.  I replied Anthony was the fastest of my men.  I heard her explain to Anthony he must run out of Lamark to Sulfur Springs where he could find Palici.  Palici was to send for Paeon under the pretense of Asclepius being sick and taking refuge in Lamark.  I watched Anthony run off, I hoped he would be ok, I hated when one of them left me.  I looked back to where Metis had been standing and instead there was a Cheetah.  I knew it was Metis, I had seen her change before.  She ran off into the woods leaving a vile containing pink fluid where a Maenad had left a flower.  I reached down and poured it into my cup which hummed with approval.  I swallowed it.

When I next opened my eyes, I heard a voice I recognized but my maenads where gone.  A man’s back was too me and he was explaining to Metis that I was fine.  “Thank you for looking at him Paeon, we all know how important Asclepius is these days.”  When he turned, I saw him properly for the fist time.  It was Mr. Thompson!  He did not let on recognizing me if he in fact did.  She saw him out.  Once he was gone, she gave me a vile looking green berry.  I ate it and felt a shift in my face and I slept against my will again.

My eyes opened and my maenads were once again with me.  I felt whole again.  They had brought all the things I had asked them for.  Now it was my turn.  I asked them to pile everything in the center of our space; I placed my cup on the top of everything.  We all joined hands in a circle around the meat and flowers.  I began to call to the ivy atop my head.  I felt it slowly creep down my arms and stretch from body to body of my maenads.  After a few moments I could sense all of us were unified and the ivy had connected to itself forming a solid ring.  We were bound to one another; the feeling was exhilarating and tense.  I dug my toes into the earth and felt it, recognized it for what it was; a canvas.  I began painting with my mind using words as my brush, the maenads were crying, screaming in pleasure, yelling in anger, the moment had come.  There was an explosion from the ring of Ivy, we were all set free. The maenads ripped at their clothes and mine, we danced and sang, the meat had been cooked and the flowers were hung in our hair.  The party was bombastic and we danced and drank for three days.

“No Metis I know that man from before we met and I must see him as myself. “ “You are wrong Dionysus, no one may know you are here.”  “That man is my only chance to seeing what I’ve come for, completing what Anake prophesized.  You must have him come here.”  The Maenads began to feel my frustration and growl at Metis.  She finally agreed and left to seek him out herself.  A few days passed, I was growing tired of Lamark.  It’s not a real city anymore.  The Maenads were explaining how grand it once was, before Dinlas destroyed its grandeur at the behest of Ares.  Finally she returned with Mr. Thompson at her side.   As soon as he saw me, the color left his face and he stopped where he was and began to privately speak with Metis.  She looked concerned then the face of serenity came over her, she was planning something.  I was lucky to have her.  Together they came up to us.  Mr. Thompson asked me to dismiss the Maenads, I did so by sending them on more small tasks.  He sat down and explained that he had been looking for me since he strapped me into the machine and had feared my death since he could not find me in the mortal world and no one had heard of a God returning that had been missing since the first war.  Metis explained to him why she had put me there in secret: she talked of a prophecy.  Thompson saw my cup and gasped.  “You are Dionysus”.  He explained that although my parents had died, they had stored themselves into this reality that I was now a member of permanently.    The machine was meant to allow temporary access but since he could not fine me for so long to bring me back, my body had died and this was now my reality.  He explained that Metis was actually my mother’s conscience and that’s why she had taken such special care of me.  “But she doesn’t know its me.”  “Yes, well, when they saved themselves inside the machine, it was not very advanced; they were due for another upload a few days after they died.”  This is your mothers disposition and connection to you but she is unaware of her actual self.  “Where is my father?”  Your father is Iapetos.  It was my job to bring you here to find them and help them unlock their true selves with the knowledge in your mind that is now uploaded into the computer.  One of my Maenads desired to be with me, I could feel it and it was distracting me.  I asked Mr. Thompson to wait a moment and wondered off to find him.  Finally I came to him, it was Chadden.  “Anake just appeared to me and gave this to me, it belong s to you she said.“  It was a funny scepter with a pinecone on the tip.  As soon as I gripped it, the pinecone lit up to the brightness of a star.  It sent out a shockwave without sound or damage.  I did not know what happened, but once I returned, Metis and Mr. Thompson where hugging one another.  When Metis saw me, she ran to me and hugged me, she said she knew everything and was my mother and was happy we were together again.  She explained the staff I was holding was the final piece to my power amplifier and once united with me had sent out my memories to all of the existence.  An eagle crossed the sun as it dived for mom and me.  Just before hitting the ground its talons sprouted into legs and the wings arms, it was my father!  We were all tougher once again!  Mr. Thompson said he had completed his task.  The Maenads were screaming and crying with the purest of joy as they felt my sense of wholeness.

Conversations with Objects

His sword hissed its way back into its sheath, an ornate black casing with winding serpents and jade emblems. He didn’t bother wiping the blood from the blade first, nor did he tend to any of the many cuts and wounds he had received during the battle. The battle didn’t matter to him anymore. It was over. The wanderer had come to the end of his journey. The desert would consume that rotting carcass. With his limping sword low on his side, and the harsh desert winds in his face, he began his way back.

Upon the last arid peak of the desert, the wanderer stood, his crimson eyes fixed on the horizon. Despite being wounded, starving and half alive, he denied himself the pity his situation craved. But there were other matters on his mind. He stood in thought, remembering, as twilight nestled softly in the distance.

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Li had returned from the desert about a year ago. His journey had made him into one of the most feared warriors throughout the land. Once, in the Village Between the Falls, Li confronted the traveling band of warriors known as the Kima, who had recently gained control over the village with their ferocity and large numbers. The Kima, comprised of over a hundred well trained men had never lost a battle. The Kima were known for taking over villages at whim, and using up all of the resources there. Once the villages were dry, they moved on, never hindered in the least by the local law enforcements. However this time, when the screams ceased and the dust settled, the Kima did not emerge victorious. Only Li remained alive. The entire Kima band fell to Li’s double short sword style. The amazing numbers of the Kima were no match for the power Li had attained through his journey in the desert. Consequently, the people of the village praised Li. Whether against his will or not, Li became a celebrity in the village– the Two Sworded Protector– and received special treatment and gifts from the villagers. Li grew fond of the attention and treatment and therefore regularly visited the village for extended periods to bask in the life of luxury.

Qinn never got to see Li defeat the Kima at the Village Between the Falls. While on the road, he had heard tales of his good friend’s triumphs through gossip in small shops and restaurants. Qinn had been preparing for his desert journey for almost a year, that very same year Li had returned from his. Qinn knew that he needed to take the next step in his training even before hearing of Li’s great new power.
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He stood tall in the wind, the rustling leaves camouflaging the sound of his heavy breath. His foe, a two sworded silhouette sat nestled menacingly upon the highest branch of the tallest oak. The only part of him not draped in shadow were his glaring eyes, and like lightning they stuck Qinn. Qinn’s glace back was colder than ice. His frigid pupils widened, calculating the possibilities his enemy might conjure from his arborous vantage. As the shadow stood, the lights of his eyes gradually receded into the abyss of his face. In their place, two shining blades pierced the darkness. Between them, his thirsty grin lit up. He spoke.

“Posers like you make us look back.” His voice was rough and agitated. He lifted his swords upwards and outwards. “I won’t allow it.”

The shadow lurched from the tree with such speed that Qinn’s focused eyes almost couldn’t keep up in the dim forest sunlight. However, the few rays that peaked their way through the canopy were just enough for Qinn as he grasped his own blade from its snake adorned sheath. The sparks from the clash danced boldly in the woodland light, stopping briefly only when the sheer momentum of the colliding swords repelled the rivals too far from each other. Qinn’s reaction time countered all assaults; his rival’s speed countered the leverage Qinn needed to mount his own assaults. As dusk drew nearer and the sparks grew brighter still, the deadlocked warriors’ resolves became the brightest flames in in the forest.

“Is two swords not enough for you?” Qinn said, searching his foe’s eyes for a solution to the stalemate. His opponent scowled in disgust.

“If you’re so confident… then COME AT ME!” yelled the rival. At that, the two of them charged at each other, swords drawn to kill. As the trails of dust they left in their wakes lifted skyward, a single leaf drifted its way down from the treetops. Just as the leaf was about to hit the ground, they broke off.

Standing between them was a tall figure with long black hair like flames shooting from his head. With half his face in shadow, and half revealing a long scar down one eye, he remained standing silently. On his strong broad shoulders rested a massive weapon, at least two meters in length, a giant sword with the words Never Regret etched into the metal. In the blossoming twilight of the forest, his long frame and build matched the sword he carried well. He spoke.

“Li. Obviously we were mistaken to take him lightly.” As he turned to Qinn, a patch of the setting sun‘s light illuminated the youth of his face. His eyes were aware and intense as he stared upon Qinn, who returned the favor with his usual icy gaze. Suddenly, the man smiled. “I’m very sorry, you see… Li and I thought you were posing to have real martial arts skills.” He gestured to Quinn’s rival, who bowed his head slightly. The man continued, “Let me make it up to you. I know this little village nearby that has the finest drinks around, please join us”. As he insisted, his smile rested a little higher on his face.

Qinn’s reaction was as carefully calculated as his battle had been, and although he knew he shouldn’t trust them, he neither feared them, nor was able to calculate how grabbing a few drinks could be dangerous. Qinn wanted to see if the nobility and true warrior virtue he sensed in these men could be true.

“May I ask your names?” Qinn replied.

“Chuyg.” the man said, as he shifted his giant sword to his other shoulder.

“I am Li”, Qinn’s former rival sung, and he struck his chest proudly.

“My name is Qinn” he said in reply. “Li, thank you for the match.“ He turned to Chuyg. “I accept your offer.”

“I am most grateful Qinn” replied Chuyg. Now his smile seemed more at ease. “There is much to be gained through the company of other true warriors.”

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The sun shined surprising brightly through the lattice windows of the restaurant. All three drinks on the cherry-wood table reflected the light and diffused it about the room, as if the stars had come out during the day, running and playing along the wood panel walls. The drinks drained themselves just the same way they had been doing for three years now, three years since that day when the three warriors had their first drinks together.
Li, Qinn, and Chuyg began traveling together that day. Since then they had trained, ate, and fought together, for the benefit of their warrior ways. However, the strongest bond the three developed over those years was from facing death day to day, and having each other‘s trust along the way– a trust that allowed them to tackle feats far beyond what they could on their own.
The three glasses, now empty, stomped their ways back to the cherry-wood in triumph. On the table laid an official looking piece of parchment. On it was a sketch of a hooded man with a large spear, and in large bold print the word Wanted and the numbers 10,000. Li, with a grin on his face, crumpled the paper into a tight sphere and tossed it at Qinn, who let it him and roll off onto the floor. Li proceeded to lift an monstrous leather money satchel in new condition onto the table top. As he did so, the clang of the coins turned every head in the restaurant, customers and severs alike. A young women with bright eyes and a flower in her hair seemed to take note extra well.

“Please don’t do that.” Chuyg demanded of Li. “You’re making a spectacle out of us.”

Li retorted, “Why should we hide it, we took down the loser on this poster and earned as this for ourselves.” The raised volume of his voice implied he wanted the people to know. “You agree with me right Qinn?” Qinn was lost in thought. He was wondering if the flower in the girl’s hair had fallen off naturally, or if she had picked it off. He then wondered if picking a flower is the same as killing it, when he snapped out of it.

“I really don’t care about the money” Qinn stuttered, fixated on the flower girl.

“Well you like food don’t you, and drinks right….” he noticed where Qinn’s attention was, “….and women, right.” “How much do you want to bet I could that girl over there with this money?” He feigned getting up from his chair.

Qinn’s stare broke and he frowned, “What.”

“Women only hold us back from achieving true power” Chuyg’s surprise words echoed through the thoughts of both Qinn and Li. “Have I ever told you two about my time wandering the Desmati Desert?” said Chuyg.

They both knew of the legend well, the desert where countless wandering warriors attempt to achieve true power. They recalled, according to legend, when a warrior was successful in striking a fatal blow in everyday of the new moon cycle, he is gifted by the desert. The Desmati Eye. The ability to predict when a fatal blow is going to be given, thusly allowing the user to either cause them, or prevent them.

Confused yet intrigued, Li spoke, “So you attempted to gain the power that lays in the desert?” He laughed, “well obviously you failed.” Chuyg’s intense eyes scowled at Li.

He began, “I once loved a women, but I had to leave her in order to journey for ultimate power. With out her, I entered into that pit of hell known as Desmati. There, I searched in agony, spiraling down deeper and darker everyday into abyss. I finished my quest, and conquered my foes….but the Desmati Eye did not take to me. It is because I was weak. Because I was weak enough to give in to a women, I remain unworthy of the eye I sought.” Chuyg finished his story and closed his eyes in reflection.

Li couldn’t contain his questions. He spoke, “Wait, you survived in the Desmati? Are you telling me it’s that easy?” The dumbfounded look on his face couldn’t contain his excitement.

Chuyg opened his eyes slowly and spoke, “Perhaps it is not too late for you two.” He paused, his eyes low. They widened and he continued “Ah well, never regret right.”

Qinn’s thoughts about the whole matter, including whether or not he should attempt a journey in the desert melted away into the girl with the flower in her hair. He pictured the sweet little flower floating gently in the breeze. He began to study her face intently, bent on discovering the truth behind her flora killing ways, when suddenly he noticed something was wrong. The girl was gazing out the window wide mouthed and clearly in terror. Qinn snuffed out the remaining flowers in his mind and turned quickly to face what the girl was looking at.

Commotion and panic began to set in inside the restaurant. “He’s got the doctor’s daughter!” one costumer shouted out. “Oh know it’s him!” cried another. “We all have to leave town NOW!” yelled yet another.
Qinn quickly turned his head back to his friends, in order to decide what to do. Li, took one look outside and laughed out, “Oh look, he’s got himself a nice little whore, I bet you I could get him to sell me that girl with this money we’ve got here!”

Chuyg, calmly as ever, replied, “I don’t think so.” He pulled out another piece of official looking parchment with a picture and the words Wanted. However, this time the number at the bottom read 100,000. Li’s face lit up, his grin rising steadily as he reread the number again and again. After reading it one final time, he suddenly leapt up onto the table and called out through the restaurant, “Townspeople, do not fear, for we traveling swordsman have can to your humble town tracking the evil criminal Soba. We shall rid this world of this scum once and for all!” Chuyg and Qinn shrugged and joined Li out the door to confront Soba. They both had their reasons for wanting to face Soba, but both knew it was unnecessary to share at the moment. The made their way down the main road of town, to the place where the criminal Soba had brought the girl. There, they faced him.

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Qinn awoke to find himself lying in bed. In unfamiliar amounts of pain, he reached across his chest to find heavy bandages over what appeared to be a serious wound. He couldn’t quite remember how he received the wound.

“Oh you’re awake!”, a women’s voice called out. To Qinn it seemed strangely soothing. She spoke again, “Please try and take it easy, don’t worry I’ll take good care of you. I owe you my life.” Qinn couldn’t remember the details of this statement, but somehow he knew it was true.

Curious, Qinn asked, “I’m sorry, but why did Soba kidnap you in the first place?” He was in too much pain to care about manners.

The woman stopped what she was doing and sat down. He long dark hair glistened in the candlelit room. The flames swayed in her pearly brown eyes, and she used them to look upon Qinn, who had not looked up to see her yet.

She spoke, “Well you see, my father was the number one doctor in the village and one day Soba showed up at our doorstep demanding treatment. Soba ended up abusing the graciousness of my father and used way more resources and time than my father could afford. It got to the point where my father had no choice but to make public Soba’s whereabouts to bounty hunters, government agents, and other enemies of his, just in order to support us, his family. Soba was forced to flee town and lay low because of my father’s bravery, however, he managed to avoid capture and returned for his revenge on my father.” A single tear slowly dripped down her cheek. She continued, “His plan was to kill me in front of my father, but I was saved thanks to you. I only wish, Father….”. Tears began streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, please excuse me.” She walked out of the room, and shortly after, Li and Chuyg entered.

“Hey, Qinn’s up! What the hell were you thinking, taking that blow from Soba in order to protect that little whore girl? And just when we finally had him cornered too. You do know he got away right? I just can’t understand why you would risk all of our money on some stunt like that. If its because you were interested in her, I’m telling you, quality of her level could’ve been easily bought ten times over with that reward money. I’m sure that little whore would’ve let you die for that much money.” Qinn felt nauseated having to listen to Li preach.

Chuyg interrupted Li, “That’s enough. Let him rest. He already knows he’ll never achieve true power in that way, I’m sure he feels bad enough. Let him recover so we can go after Soba.”

The doctor’s daughter returned to the room, her tears somewhat under control now. She bore an old straw hat, tightly woven and pointed at the top. The girl placed the hat on Qinn’s lap and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.
“This was my father’s” she whispered. “I want you to take it with you when you leave for your travels. Hopefully it will keep you dry and well, and maybe remind you of the girl you risked your life for in a small village between the falls.” She smiled, her eyes still glossy from the tears. He put on the hat.
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The wanderer’s crimson glance broke, as the rising flame of the east beckoned him to the land Between the Falls for the final time. His descent from the mountain was strangely harder than its ascent. Whether it was the festering of his untreated wounds, or the heightened sense of failure after having recalled so many memories, the wanderer was getting weaker.

Once fully down the mountain, the vegetation became lush and inviting. The wanderer took a rest atop a small boulder beside a modest waterfall. The showers danced in the sunlight, and the mist rising up from the base of the fall soothed and comforted him. The wanderer removed his straw hat, and gazed into the mist with the last of his strength. As he fell to the ground and lost consciousness, a shadow emerged from within the mist.

“So do you think you are ready?” she asked Qinn. The starlight blanketed them as they lay face up, counting the night’s diamonds and treasuring them equally as well.

“The journey? Who knows, if my true power is out there waiting for me, I have to find it.” He turned from the sky towards her, his face close to hers. The grass on which they lay was as green as the jade snakes that adorned his treasured sheath, and as soft as the skin he wished so longingly to touch. Without turning her head from the sky, she took his rough and callused hand into her own, nimble fingers.

She spoke, “I wonder what is awaiting me on my own journey.” She squeezed his hand firmly, and turned. Sundered starlight sat and stirred within each others eyes, as they locked gazes.

Qinn advanced toward her, and whispered into her ear, “Do you think you are ready?”

She let out one long breath and then kissed Qinn’s lips.

******************************************

“I need to be free. I care about you, but when two people really care about each other, they shouldn’t own each other” she declared.

He stared into her eyes hoping to somehow be convinced by these words. They were laying in bed together, the doctor’s daughter and Qinn, half warmed by the one draped sheet over them, and half warmed by each other’s warm moist skin. This talk wasn‘t coming at a particularly good time, at least to Qinn. Being rejected by a girl while laying with her somehow seemed like something warriors shouldn’t have to deal with. Qinn took one deep breath and sealed away his feelings. He could feel his icy eyes judging her, calculating the best defense to this onslaught.

He countered, “It’s fine. I never saw us like that in the first place.” He was almost telling the truth. The onslaught continued.

“It’s ok to tell the truth”, she said, “I know you’re lying.” Qinn couldn’t help but raise an icebrow to this reaction. Moisture began welling up in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you. You must hate me.” Qinn thought how lucky he was that his deep breath had managed to calm him before this extra stress. Her tears began to stream. The fatal blow.

“Hey, it’s fine, it’s really fine” he said. “I’ll always care for you ok, I don’t need anything more than that.” She lay in his arms, as he comforted her.

****************************************
Qinn awoke once again in that same familiar bed, with the usual wounds that he wouldn’t remember receiving. She was asleep at the foot of the bed, her head resting beside Qinn’s legs. The rustling of Qinn’s awakening caused her to wake as well. Being a doctor’s daughter, she first make sure that Qinn’s wounds were healing properly. She was glad to see that they all were coming along nicely.

Qinn wanted to give her a genuine smile expressing how happy he was to see her again, the first time since his journey, but the irony of the situation wouldn’t wipe itself off of his grin. She, however, was not grinning or smiling. She didn’t hide being upset well. Her usually flawless complexion and bright smile seemed dimmer and sicklier than usual. Her melodious voice sang in minor, and her hands were cold and stiff upon his flesh, as she replaced the bandages.

Just then, a tall man with a long scar down his face entered the room.

“Hello Qinn, it has been a while” he said. “I see that you have completed your journey. How does it feel?” he scanned Qinn’s face for any trace of the Desmati Eye.

“Hello old friend“, Qinn said. “I completed my journey, I mastered my enemies, but I can find no trace of the power I was searching for. The power that he achieved.”

“I can’t believe that”, replied Chuyg. In the back of his mind he knew that the girl could be the reason Qinn didn’t achieve Desmati, but he was unwilling to accept it. “If he could achieve that power, I know that you did as well. I’ve had faith in you from the moment to decided on this path, and I’m not about to let that faith go now. We use our power in the right way, and I can’t accept the fact that he uses his power in that way. You are a truly gifted and righteous warrior. I would expect you to achieve power far beyond his.” Qinn was flattered, but at the same time convince he hadn’t achieved his power.

“Perhaps your right,” Qinn said, “maybe I did become more powerful than I realized.”

Qinn really didn’t believe that was the case, but the pressure of letting down the values he and his friend stood for seemed to overcome his need to be realistic. He wondered if power could really be such a fickle thing.

Later that night, the doctor’s daughter came to Qinn’s bed, unable to hold in her feelings any longer. She broke her painful silence and said, “There’s something that’s been bothering me, but I really don’t know how to tell you.” Her voice had a whining quality.

. Well Qinn could relate. Being back in the Village Between the Falls, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his failure in the desert– failure that the great Two Sworded Protector hadn’t experienced. In fact, he had gone on to become a celebrity in this village and abandoned the ways of his friends Chuyg and Qinn. Neither of the two saw him often after the battle of the Kima, and their friendship for him had gradually decayed into bitterness. Qinn wished that he could’ve discovered his power in the desert, if at least to be able to approach Li as an equal and convince him use his powers to help people.

“What’s the matter?” said Qinn

“Actually no, I shouldn’t tell you” she replied.

“Just tell me.”

She conceited. “………..Li came to me last night drunk” she said. “He claimed he wasn’t, but I could tell.” She began choking up a bit. “He said he just wanted me to give him a check-up, and he said he would pay for everything up front.” She was crying now. “He came over, and he was offering me all this money, so I didn’t know what to do. I was so confused. And he….he.” Anger was boiling inside of Qinn, and he knew he should control it. Qinn took a deep breath, sealing up the anger inside, but not extinguishing it.

“He did what?” His voice was calm, but his heart was almost too much to control

Now bawling and grasping onto Qinn, she replied. “You know what he did. I’m so sorry I had to tell you about this, I’ve just been feeling so awful.”

Qinn stood up and punched a hole in the wall. Thoughts raced to his head. How could Li have done this? What was he thinking. Li had known about Qinn and her ever since that day he save her from Soba. Li had known, who this girl was and where she was from. Qinn wasn’t thinking about how a confrontation with Li would be futile given he had the Desmati eye. Qinn didn’t care. He was going to make Li pay or die trying.

“What are you going to do?” she managed to choke out. “Please don’t fight him, you two are friends. I should have never told you. I just couldn’t keep it in, I feel so awful!”

Qinn looked out the window and into the dismal dusk.

“I’ll face him tomorrow.“ His bloodlust dueled the pity he felt for his former friend.

“Then it will be decided.”

*************************************************

The sun was nearing its highest point in the sky, its bitter rays snapped at his skin and soaked him in heat. Only the straw hat, with its woven shielding, could repel its solar attacks. The lack of breeze was stifling, and it allowed his footsteps to ring out upon the long dirt road. It was time for battle, a battle discontinued for over 5 years, finally it was to be decided. Desmati eye or not, Qinn no longer could accept Li’s decisions. Li approached.

“Qinn, asked me to be the witness for this duel,” said Chuyg to Li, “and on my honor I will not interfere in an honorable challenge to the death.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Li, “the power that I have gained is too much to overcome, and from what I have heard, Qinn has failed his only chance at rivaling me.”

“Yeah, it’s true I don’t have the eye,” called Qinn, “but people like you who betray their friends, treat women like objects, and gain power for fame and glory, need to be snuffed out. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have the Desmati Eye like you, I WON”T LOSE!” At that Qinn’s icy cold stare took lock upon, Li’s bitter face.

“We’ll aren’t you so righteous”, Li retorted, his sarcasm festered in the sun. “ Did it ever occurred to you that perhaps I am more righteous one, I mean– look which one of us has the Eye. Look which one of us was not rejected by women. Look which one of us is a town hero.” Qinn could hardly consider Li a hero, nor could he consider his type of solicitation as “not being rejected“.

A random gust of wind rushed by Qinn, his clothing waved, bidding their adieu to either their good friend Li, or their master, Qinn. Qinn took hold on his sheath with one hand, and using his thumb, he revealed the first inch or so of his steel blade.

“LET”S FINISH THIS!” Qinn’s cry sounded out. He charged with an unparalleled speed, the likes of which Li had to raise one eyebrow too. Qinn was moving so fast, that not only did the kicked up dirt under his feet leave a cloud, but the very air in front of him was torn through and spat back out in his wake. Qinn stared fiercely into Li’s eyes as he approached, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Desmati power and somehow counter it.

With a thud, Qinn hit the ground headfirst and slid along the dirt road for at least 3 or 4 meters. It didn’t work. The Desmati had seen his move, probably even before he started charging.

“I see you have become physically much stronger Qinn, however you can not hope to defeat the Desmati Eye with such meager power” Li said, amused.

Qinn used his sword as a crutch in order to pull himself up from the dirt. As he picked up his hat and returned it to his head, he realized that he would not be able to take many blows like that, and that every attack he used on Li would have to be aimed for fatality. He knew he couldn’t hold himself back if he hoped to defeat Li, however a piece of Qinn could not let go of the friend Li, and the trust they shared for all those years.

“Please stop!” her voice cried out. She had managed to find the location of the duel, despite Qinn and Chuyg’s attempts. Qinn took his free hand and caressed the matted straws of his hat. He wanted to listen to her.

“You mustn’t interfere between an honorable fight to the death,” Chuyg said, the seriousness of the affair evident in his tone. She didn’t care about what he had to say.

“Qinn listen”, she demanded, Qinn half expecting her to be in tears by now. “It is all my fault…. I… I…” she stuttered, “ I am the one who called Li to my home. I called upon him that night and many others. Li is a great hero, just like you. There is no reason for you to have to die here. Li is the most powerful warrior throughout the land. You stand no chance.” Her voice had the usual whining quality.
Qinn no longer had any need for rational thoughts. He had heard enough. He charged Li again, the fury in his eyes fueled him to become faster still. As he lurched, his jade serpents slithered in the sunlight. His furious eyes had given up on calculating and studying. Instead, Qinn’s thoughts shifted to the desert. He pictured a desert flower being blown fiercely about in the wind. He wished the flower could float down gently, but the arid winds ravaged the poor flower. He was the wanderer. She was the flower. And he was the inexplicable power of the desert that he hated with all his heart. He needed that desert wind to die. He couldn’t take it any longer.

Their three swords met. Blasted by the impact, Qinn slide back a few meters, but remained on his feet. Li, however, rolled across the dusty road like tumbleweed in the desert wind. When he came to a halt, he staggered himself back to his feet, his usual grin wiped right off.

Beside Qinn lay his straw hat, or rather what used to be his straw hat. The girl began bawling. It had finally succumb to the damage it had been subjected to for almost two years. On the dirty floor, a pile of loosely related straws stirred in the subtle breeze. The pyramid like structure in which they stood, was almost reminiscent of a hat.

Qinn took one look at the hat, and another at the girl. He became calm, his furious eyes gradually receded to his usual, calculating stare. Qinn relished the moment, he had just seen death and prevented it. There could be no mistaking it, he had achieved the Desmati Eye.

Baffled, Li thought back to the clash. He was sure that he saw the fatal blow on Qinn. But somehow, Qinn countered, and gained the upper hand. This did not sit well in Li’s stomach. He never anticipated an actual fight to the death. He knew that if Qinn’s Eye had indeed awakened, that there would be little chance of running away safely, he needed a distraction. Desperate, Li struggled to think of a way out of his situation. His whole face grinned, from his widespread lips to his focused brows .

“So your Eye has finally come in?” he cackled. “Convenient don’t you think. I wonder whose will have the upper hand.” He began circling Qinn. “So judging from the reaction time of that last clash, I think it’s safe to assume the speed of you’re predictions at least matches that of my own.” He stopped. His grin widened. “Shall we put it to the test?”

At full speed, Li ran at the girl, confident that Qinn would detect his deadly intentions. Before Li had his second foot dug into the dirt, Qinn was already on his way to intercept, sword drawn.

A small amount of blood spattered on the girl’s face. It was Qinn’s. The tips of the two swords that ran through him were only inches from her, as he stood in front of her, back turned. His sword struck true as well, and it pierced Li through completely, although it didn’t hid any vital points.

The two faced each other, swords through them, calculating an infinite amount of attacks and defenses with their Desmati gifts. They stood there, stalemated by the powers they wandered so long for. Qinn’s face had a large, but bloody smile on it. He was glad that he made it in time to save her, even if it cost him his advantage in the fight. Surprisingly, Li’s smile was even wider. He began laughing, and blood spit up from his mouth.

Qinn never saw the blow coming, is focus locked on countering the other Desmati Eye. The doctor’s daughter had pulled out a large knife, and stabbed Qinn in the back, killing him in a matter of seconds. Qinn’s body slid off of Li’s swords, and he faded away, chasing a floating flower into the next world.

Chuyg rested himself against his massive sword. It was stained with fresh blood and beneath it lay two bodies. The girl’s and Li’s. Chuyg thought to himself how ironic the power of the Desmati was. He had realized the secret after watching his friend Qinn die. Chuyg realized that only after a desert warrior has turned against a person whom he trusted completely, will he achieve the Eye. With that he set off into the horizon, leaving his sword behind. The blood on his blade dripped down and covered the N etched in the metal.

The sun gleamed its tainted light upon his lonely steel, reading EVER REGRET.

Patrick

Here’s my revision of Doris Chiswick in a Pdf. Thanks!

fiction

Please come and support your fellow students as the show their good stuff.  It’s been a great year, and it’s time to kick back. Almost.  After the Origins final.  And all the other finals.  And the papers.  And the recitals and concerts.  Oh, never mind, just be there!  You have to eat anyway!

Patrick

Short Story

“What are you doing here?”

Is there someone asking me a question? I open my eyes. What a strange place! I am standing inside a forest, but every tree here is white.  In fact, it’s kind of too quiet.  I try to remember how I came to this place.  Suddenly I see a woman with a pair of white wings looking at me sofly, peacefully.

“My name is Linda,” says the pretty woman with wings. “I’m an angel.”

Oh, she’s an angel, that’s why she has wings. Wait! An angel?!  How come I can see angels?  Where am I?

“You were crushed by a black car,” she says, apparently knowing my thoughts. “This is heaven, and you are the first human being to arrive here.” She smiles at me, but I can’t smile back. I feel a little bit weird, and I have no idea why.

“Am I dead?” I say. All I can think about is my family, friends, and all my unfinished work.

“The answer can be both.” She keeps smiling, but a little bit more strangely this time.

“What? You’re really confusing me. Could you explain why you said that?”  I’m still thinking about the things which I’ve left in the “real world,” like my dog who needs to be walked, the many bills that I needed to pay, and my parents, who are waiting to see me this weekend!

“Actually, we’re confused too,” the angel Linda says. “Usually when people die they become an angel and come to heaven automatically.  But you are sill human.  So after discussing your situation, we’ve decided to let you stay in heaven for some time and let you decide if you want to stay or go back to your life.”  As she says all this, her expression never changes; she just keeps smiling and smiling.

“Do you mean I can go back?” I say surprised and happy.

“Sure,” she says, “but I think you might prefer to stay here. Come with me, I want to show you the real heaven.”

She turns around and begins flying to some place.  Luckily, she is flying slowly enough that I can follow her by walking at a normal pace.

It seems like I follow her for a minute, an hour, or a day, I can’t tell.  We finally arrive at a small town, comprised of a small group of white buildings.  I see many angels here, all with the same happy and peaceful smiles on their faces.

Linda smiles the same way and says, “This is the town I am living in.  We don’t have money here, so we don’t need to work.  Everything is just happy here.”

I look around again.  I feel that I could that I could get used to this slow tempo, as well as to that strange smile, which makes me oddly comfortable and relaxed.  ”So… What do you usually do in heaven?”

“Oh, play and do whatever you like to do, every moment.  If you live with us, you will not worry about so many things.  All you need to think about is how to have more fun.”

I smile back–maybe not quite like Linda does, but close enough, I guess.  It sounds good—isn’t this life I ‘m looking for?  “Do I need to do anything to live in here?”

“No, just be yourself.” She smiles strangely this time.

“Do you like it here?” I ask suddenly.  I don’t know where this question comes from, and at once I feel bad.  They must love to live here, because it’s such a wonderful place–no pain, no desire, no bad things at all.  But Linda the angel’s face suddenly goes blank.

“I don’t  know the feeling of ‘liking’ or not ‘liking’,” she says, “but there’s nothing to be worried about here.  We’re all the same.”  Her answer surprises me, as does the fact that she is no longer smiling.  I look around.  No matter what the other angels are doing, they seem nice and all, but they act like robots.  It occurs to me that none of these angels can really feel happiness, hope, or anything like that.

I turn to Linda.  ”Why aren’t you smiling?” I ask.  Linda continues to look back at me blankly.  I smile and continue, “I think heaven is a nice place, but I’ve decided to go back to my real world.  Although sometimes I hate that world, I like it, and I can really feel myself there, not being the same as everyone else.  I can feel not only happy, but angry and sad.  In my country, there is an old saying, ‘If there’s no dark, there’s no light.’  If I can’t feel the dark, how can I feel the bright?  Life should be more colorful.  I want to go back!”

Linda still makes no response.  I can’t ever tell if she is looking at me. Is she mad? Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that…

It seems like this silence could last forever, but then she suddenly smiles so nicely, and differently than before, more like a real person.  ”Thank you for telling me this,” she says, “Now I am getting a special feeling which I never had from you.  I am very interested in your country.” She pauses, then smiles and takes out a wonderful stone from her pocket.  ”Here, take this.  A kind of leaving present.  This stone includes all our best wishes for you, and I hope it can bring you good luck.”

I look down at the stone, which is shining and has the seven colors of a rainbow.

Did she know I wouldn’t stay here?  She wouldn’t have brought the stone with her if she really thought I would stay here.

“Thanks,” I say, matching her smile.  I take the stone from her.  My hand drops with the weight; it’s like a piece of lead.  “I really wish you could go to my world.  For a little while anyway!”

She looks at the stone and then right at me.  ”Maybe, who knows!”

Suddenly I fall into darkness that I can’t even see.

*

“Ring…..Ring…………..Ring……..”

Wait!  Where am I now?  Heaven?!

I open my eyes, and then see my old tiny apartment.  Oh, it was a dream!  I open my hand to make sure that I am not holding the heaven stone from the angel Linda.

Come on, I say, there is no angel and heaven in this world.  I take a deep breath, relieved and happy that I didn’t really have an accident, and that I am now going to get up and go to the bathroom to start my usual day.  But then when I get to the bathroom, I find that the room is locked.  That’s strange.  I live alone, so how can the door be locked?!

Suddenly I hear a woman’s voice.  ”Come in, I’m finished.”

Wait, a woman?!  Where had I heard this voice before?!

I open the door, a little scared.  Standing before the mirror is a pretty woman with a pair of white wings.

“Hi, I’m the Angel Linda……”

Oh shit!  My mouth drops, “W–Why, why are you here!?”

“Don’t you want me to be in your world?” she says.  She seems much stranger than I remember in my “dream”, more like a real human in this world, except for those wings.

“I’m just surprised that it wasn’t a dream,” I say.  I bite my finger to make sure if I can feel pain.  Ouch.  No, it’s real.  “What are you… going to do here?”

The angel Linda smiles.  “What else?  Of course, live with you!” she says. Her wings give a couple of amused flaps.

I stare at her, still trying to get over my amazement.  Live with me?  ”Go back, please!!”

She frowns, puzzled.  ”No,” she says sweetly. “You made a wish with the heaven stone that I would come to the human world, so it became true.  We can’t go to the other world freely…” She trails off; it seems like she’s about to cry.

I was trying to get her out of the bathroom, but now my hands stop in the air.

“Then tell me how can I send you back to the heaven,” I say. “There’s no way for a person with wings to live in this world.”  I look into her eyes to make sure she knows that I am telling the truth.

“Oh, is that all.”  Slowly her wings become smaller and smaller, and then finally disappear.  She looks back at me.  “Now can I stay?”

“No!” I want to cry now.  “I mean, I don’t know.  Listen, I have to go now!” Then I gently move her out of bathroom and lock the door.

When I finish, I peek out through the crack in the door to see if she’s still there.  Her face slides right into the crack.

“Where are you going?” she says, looking at me with shining eyes that seems to be saying “Take me with you!”

I shake my head.  “Look, I have to go to school, take classes, and all that.  Let’s talk after I come back.  You do whatever you want here—just don’t go out!”  I leave in a hurry without hearing her answer.

*

Three hours later, I finish my classes and return home.  I pause at the door, thinking what I’m going to say to the Angel Linda to get her to go back to heaven where she belongs.  I enter slowly.  ”Linda? Where are you, Linda?”  No answer.  I look all over to apartment.  ”Are you hungry? Do you want to have some human food?”  She’s gone–but where?  If she can’t go back, she must be in this world.  At first I’m just glad to be rid of her, but then I realize I’m responsible for her being here—I am the only person she knows!

I run out my apartment, hoping I can  find this strange “person”.  After searching for fifteen minutes, I find a group of people standing around a store called “Symphony Market.”  I have a really bad feeling, and making my way through the crowd, I finally see the Angel Linda standing and crying in front of a policeman and holding half a piece of cheesecake.

“What did she do, sir?” I ask the policeman.

He looks at me impatiently. “Is she your friend?  She ate some of this cheesecake here but didn’t pay for it, and now she says she doesn’t know cheesecake needs to be paid for!  She’s been crying for ten minutes without saying anything!!”

I breathe a sigh—it could have been a lot worse.  “Look, officer, I am her friend, I guess.  She’s got some problems…here.”  I point at my head.  ”I’ll pay for the cheesecake.”

The policeman turns to his car, relieved.  “Okay, but be careful with her!” he says, thebn adds softly, “She seems really out of it.”

I pay for the cheesecake, but then she pokes her finger into two more, so I have to buy these too.

On the way home, we don’t talk at all.  She stops crying; she knows she made a trouble for me—I think.  When we get home, we sit down around the table in the kitchen.  ”Why didn’t you wait for me?” I say to break the silence.

“You didn’t tell me when you’d come back!” she says, her face becoming hysterical.  ”You just left without telling me anything!”

“Okay, okay…..” I say, trying to calm her down.  ”My mistake.  I was just so surprised, I couldn’t think.”  Actually it seems a little funny to see an angel getting angry, but I don’t think laughing at her is a good idea now.

“I forgive you this time,” she says, but suddenly she begins to cry so sadly.  ”I lied to you this morning. I have to go back to heaven now, I can just spend a morning in this world.”

“Oh,” I say. “Well …..problem solved.”

“Yeah…” she says and looks at me sadly.

“I didn’t mean that!  I….”  I try to find something to say that won’t hurt her feelings.

“Oh! You do want me here,” she says, her eyes shining again.  Just then a golden door opens in the sky, and the Angel Linda sprouts her wings and flies towards the door.  Suddenly she stops flying, turns back to me, and takes the two pieces of cheesecake from the table. “Thanks!” she says, flies into the door, and disappears.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.  Everything suddenly becomes simple again, just like before, and I’m relieved beyond words.  I just do whatever I have to do and say whatever I have to say.  By the end of the day, though, I feel confused.  Everything is like a dream, only it’s not.

*

“Ring…..Ring…….Ring…….” The clock rings as usual, and I turn it off without opening my eyes. After five minutes “fighting” with the bed, I get up sleepily and walk to the bathroom slowly.  But the door of bathroom is closed.

Wait, did I close it last night?   I try to open it softly.  Fortunately, it’s not locked.

But things always go in a way you can’t imagine.  As soon as I open the door, I see the Angel Linda gazing at herself in the mirror, a huge smile on her face.  “Hi, it’s me again,” she says, then dutifully dissolves her wings.   “I really like that cheesecake.  A lot.”

Oh, shit!!

Craning my stiff neck over my naked, cranky shoulder, I thought maybe he was there. But instead the big, green, lumpy, bulging body pillow slept comfortably next to me, a sorry replacement for my usual company. “I wish he were here.” Picturing his translucent, soft paleness, his tiny side smile that made his gentle face charming as he slept. I could count each one of his hundreds of multi-colored freckles that covered his lanky body. The pathway of dotted grizzle that traveled from his clay nose to his plump pink lips would scratch my mouth in defiance as I tried to kiss him awake.

I had slept the whole night through, hugging that chunky green pillow instead of being folded in long, falling arms and being happily awakened by his usual rhinoceros-sized snore. Waking up to that snore was the best thing in the world. I would be comforted just to know I was alive, and with him. But now I awoke alone, digging the crust out from my eyes and airing out my coffin of a mouth.

Knock, knock, knock. The pounding continued once more. Pain had come back, now slicing into my upper back and dribbling down my spiteful spine. I was clouded and confused; I must of have taken too many muscle relaxants last night. Waking up wasn’t a battle, it was a war.

10:30? No. Now I was late. I was always late. I didn’t want to even go. I stared at the clock hopelessly, watching the seconds drip-drop and drain me of self-worth. I used to rush to ensemble class and climb into a seat, out of breath, ready to wail. I was known for being too eager. Annoyingly optimistic. Always singing the tenor part a little too loud. Now I didn’t want to even go. I felt defeated. I was thirty minutes late. No point in showing up.

I remember what it was like just months ago. No pain, except for a bad case of fidgety anxiety, a tendency to be tardy, and my normal list of obsessive neuroses. I was performing almost four times a month, and attempting to lead my band of eclectic jazz conservatory personalities to some sort of musical victory. I seemed confident as I introduced each tune, coupling the titles with some trying-way-too-hard-to-be-witty story about my day, where the song came from, or how my parents were once again in the audience and had become my official “claque.”

I was always so energized when I sang. Too animated, like I was performing with a cartoon jazz combo from the forties. But I couldn’t help it. I was in it.

I remember that concert in late September. I wore a sleeveless black bow-tie cocktail dress, clinging to the final remnants of our Indian summer. The windows to Café Luna were still opened, and sent in a warm breeze as we danced through our set list. The only people in the audience were my parents, my roommate, and this dorky classical guitarist who used to give me sleazy looks in the hallways. Even so, I felt light and careless.

He’d snuck in the back. I couldn’t help but gaze at him. He was nerdy, but intriguing in those huge rounded turtle shell glasses. He sat alone, and was so quiet compared to his obnoxious rotten-tomato red sweater. When we started to play our funk portion of the set, his smile slid into a definite smugness. He watched so intently, with a mysterious intensity, and a distant joy. I could feel his feet keeping time from the back of the room, hole-filled and ravaged grey converse, feverishly stomping on the linoleum.

Later we’d be giggling and gallivanting in my room, locked in a heated battle over Woody Allen movies, LA vs. NYC, starry-eyed and enchanted by the coincidences of our lives. Our older siblings were both screen writers, and we both loved green tea ice cream, and Tuck and Patti.

Then, I was healthy and ruthlessly chased after him with a reckless abandon. Then I didn’t know how to play hard to get.

Now it was hard to get out of bed. Forget performing, forget funk music, cocktail dresses, an audience. Now walking, sitting, standing, sleeping. Being. Just being was a burden. The pain was like a crowd of little children hanging all over my body, just poking and poking and poking me all over, then biting and poking me some more. I couldn’t peel them off me. They were inside me, never giving me a goddamn break. There was no relief… unless I was with him.

Fibromyalgia. It sounds like a mechanical kind of bacteria. More like a bad excuse to feel sorry for myself.

Forget the past.

I’ll get up.

I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror. Slouching in my cut-up, ragged and tired sweatshirt. Hardly glamorous. The bags under my eyes clung desperately to my bottom lids, falling off my face. “I’m dead.” I put on my usual mask of too much Egyptian-style eyeliner, some clingy black thing to cover my heavy body. I hated the way anything looked, but I thought it might be able to hide my giant, blaring red pain– a flashing neon sign switching from ”cripple” to ”ou.” I wondered if people could see that. I hoped they could, sometimes.

I wished he were there to yank me back into my big messy purple bed, to say, ”Hey, don’t go,” and lock me onto his body with his foot around one of my thighs. He’d clench me in between his shoulders and say, ”Super body hold! Let’s see if you can get out of this one.” I would pretend to try, but I never wanted to get out. It was the only time I felt like the nagging pain would go away.

But he wasn’t there. I didn’t need him. The deceitful clock was punching me in the face, and pushing me into reality. 10:45. The minutes had snuck by my dizzying lapse into self-pity.

I eased carefully back into bed. My muscles melted into the sheets. My body bathed in warmth from the electric heating pad that had now become a part of me. I tried to turn off my spinning thoughts of agony, and I tried to focus elsewhere. “Think about him. Think about last night.”

Last night we’d sat in his room, underneath towers of books, in the crackling hazy echoes of his record player. Everything was a shade of green. He was distracted from his tedious temp work, and I wrapped my compassion around his shoulders. He slid his hand onto the back of my leg, and traipsed up and down the back of my knee up between my thighs. This warm, nervous feeling started. My body was a pot full of bubbling chicken soup on a stove. I was just right, ready to be sipped.

Dinner came, but the kitchen lights didn’t suit our quiet coos and intimate glances. Instead, he arranged a romantic table for two amidst the clutter of his bedroom. My throne was the butt of a computer chair, his a drum stool. Our table was a snare drum on a stand covered with a napkin, and voila! A regal banquet of rolls and raviolis. We shared. He nudged me to eat more.

He was artistic even in the way that he doled out food. So particular about it. Even when we’d gone to a Chinese restaurant the week before, he’d arranged the entire meal. His placement of each piece of “Orange Favored Chicken” (as it was written in the menu) was angled precisely, creating a perfectly intact abstract collage of gooey chicken and vibrant green broccoli. To me, it was entitled “love dinner art.”

As we’d dined in our makeshift restaurant, I’d quickly realized my lack of appetite. Being near him made me forget my infatuation for food, and my stomach was full of stones.

Or was it the medication that did that?

No. Don’t think about your medication. Don’t focus on the pain. Stay in the memory. Stay in the memory.

It was a nice break, thinking about the night before, with him. But today wasn’t going to retreat so easily. I was still late. My heating pad began to burn into my back. My life had come down to this. Living off memories of him, and struggling to function. Can’t I just get up? The answer was always yes. I had to.

I glared at my enemy, the clock. Still ticking. Faster than I could stand. Behind the demon-clock were six looming bottles full of little pink and white and blue and green pills. I resented the whole team of them. They didn’t do enough. Behind them, though, standing tall, was the poem he’d written for me for my birthday. I wish I could bottle him up. Take one of him every time I felt so, so bad. He was a medicine that could cure.

The night of my birthday party, he’d shown up late. Racing back from his trip to New York. He’d called me the night before just at midnight. “I’m sorry I’m not there. Happy Birthday. I wanted to be the first to tell you.”

Just when I thought he’d never make it to the party, he’d finally arrived. I tried not to act excited at the door. I secretly wanted to jump on him and cover him in kisses. The party grew stale after a few hours, and I was mad at him for something stupid. Not protecting me when some drugged up, drunken creep slobbered all over me.

But before I could complain, he’d cleared out all the stragglers from my room and pulled out an ivory piece of paper. He sat in my purple desk chair, spinning and spinning in silence forever. Then he began to read.

No one had ever written me a poem before. My birthday poem. It sounded like Frank O’Hara, but it was better, it was by him.

Halfway through his dramatic recitation, he toppled off the purple chair onto the floor, and we laughed for hours.

Now, that night was laminated on my dresser, but instead, with meds for an audience. I snagged the laminated poem, a rebellious bottle of pills, and shoved both into my bag. I was going to make it through. I limped into class, my head down, embarrassed to be there so late, embarrassed to be there at all. I didn’t want to look as pathetic as I felt, but at least it helped my case. They couldn’t be mad at fibro-girl, right?

Of course they could. They didn’t know what it felt like to have nutcrackers for knees. “How do you feel?” “Like I just finished running an entire marathon every day for the past six months, without training.” “You run?” I shook my head. Hopeless.

I tried to focus for the last hour of ensemble. We sang a drone piece. The extra octaves were swirling around in my ears and asking my headache to dance.

I tried to focus during the rest of my classes for the day, but each one was a minute-by-minute battle with the clock warrior, while on the inside I screamed as angry men with large clubs beat every part of my body repeatedly. I kept traveling back to him in defiance. Trying to jet into our dinner for two, or climb back into the abyss of his unmade, crumpled green bed, or catch that deep endless look he’d give me. His honey and pistachio green eyes gleaming at me under his “Where’s Waldo” glasses.

But I had more to endure. I sat through two more hours. Shuffling from class to class, completely lost in my own perils. Singing “Everything Happens to Me” quietly, over and over again in my head. Chet Baker was my best friend now.

I clicked and cracked and limped and loped all the way home. I grieved the leftover homework that awaited me, the night ahead filling me with worry. I tripped up the ragged stairs, struggled into my apartment. I fell into my purple mess, and there he was.

My aches from the day slid off my back along with my bags, and I sunk into him. He squeezed out my pain, and held me so tight against his Play-Doh chest that I forgot which skin was my own. His heartbeat became my headache, his breath warmed my worries away. He had won. Fibromyalgia retreated. Love is the best medicine.