un-expectations

“Janine, please stop. People are going to think I’m a monster.” I placed my hand gently on the back of her elbow. She was shaking. “We can figure this one out. There’s nothing to worry about.”
She brought her shining eyes up to meet mine. They were rimmed red and still infinitely beautiful. I felt my emotions catch in my own throat and I wondered if I really believed the words I was whispering to my girlfriend of 14 months. I wanted to believe it was the truth—that we could find a simple solution.
We were standing in front of a convenience store somewhere in Nebraska, en route to Janine’s parents’ house in Cleveland, Ohio. We were almost exactly 1,000 miles east of my family, and 1,000 miles west of hers. And wouldn’t you know it? Janine was going to be a mom. The news—only just acquired from a pregnancy test both purchased and used in the gas station—hadn’t quite sunk in for me. All I wanted to do was get back behind the wheel of my Jeep Compass and get on the road again. I was done with Nebraska only moments after we’d entered it. I hated the god-forsaken state, as nothing good ever happened in Nebraska.
“I can’t stop,” Janine managed. She then buried her mouth and nose in the soggy tissue she was clutching, and continued to weep. I sighed and cast my eyes to the horizon.
The sky was pale and expansive. I had known when I awoke that morning in our Salt Lake City hotel that it was going to be beautiful weather. I had known as soon as Janine exited the hotel bathroom with no color in her face and a sour scent on her breath that the weather would be the last pleasant thing in my life for a while. We had only put 30 miles between us and the hotel when Janine demanded we stop and buy a pregnancy test. And those are the events that brought us here: me gazing at the line where light meets land, Janine falling to pieces beside me. I wrapped one arm around her and kissed the crown of her head. “It’s all okay,” I assured us both. “Let’s get in the car and we’ll be to your mom’s house before you know it.”
With some effort, I coaxed Janine into the passenger seat and helped her fasten her seatbelt. I kissed her twice, asking if she was alright and getting nothing more than a sad shrug of her shoulders. Reluctantly, I closed her door and walked around to my side of the car. Before I even reached for the handle, I heard someone call me from the direction of the fuel pumps.
“Hey. Is she going to be alright? I couldn’t help noticing . . .” the man trailed off, making it sound like he was unsure what it was he had noticed. He was in the process of cleaning his windows, and he held the squeegee lifelessly in his left hand while he addressed me. I glanced at Janine through the window. She wasn’t looking at me, but I held one finger up anyway, to let her know I’d be a minute.
I crossed the parking lot to where the stranger stood beside his town car. The grill was smattered with bugs, but the windshield gleamed in the mid-morning light. “She’s pregnant,” I blurted without ado. “She’s freaking out.” I shot the stranger a helpless expression, hoping that somehow I could convince him I would be receptive to any advice he could offer me.
The man had close-set eyes and poufy grey hair. He was reminiscent of Will Farrell, add fifteen or twenty years. I hoped he was as good-natured as the comedian seemed in all his films, of which I’d always been a fan. The man smiled, his lips closed in an attempt to hide a snaggle-tooth in the top row. “We’ve all been there, my friend,” he said warmly. “My advice to you is to make an honest woman of her.” Before I could protest, or even offer a response to his suggestion, he added, “That’s what I did, and I have been a happy man all my life.”
He nodded towards the front of the convenience store, and I saw a beautiful middle-aged woman. She was holding hands with a boy who looked about seven years old. They were each licking at a freshly-made soft-serve ice cream cone and they were smiling and talking quietly. They looked both ways before crossing the parking area and arriving at the car where I stood with the missing piece of their perfect little family. I nodded at the woman, who smiled in return and proceeded to help fasten the child in the back seat, which was littered with toys and coloring books.
“Well, thank you for the advice, sir,” I offered the man my hand and he shook it. “You have a safe drive.”
The man smiled and gestured to my car across the way. “I trust you’ll do right by her,” the man offered with an encouraging nod before returning the squeegee to the bucket full of bug-ridden window washing fluid.
I strolled back to my Jeep, feeling just a little less burdened than I had before. I pulled open the driver’s door to find Janine had lowered the back of her seat and was dozing peacefully. Her head tilted to the right so I couldn’t see her features, only the pane of her cheek and the delicately exposed flesh behind her ear and the side of her neck. There was a pale, wiry vein curving behind her ear, punctured as it was with a vacant earring hole. I was so tempted to reach across the space between us and caress her sleeping form. I resisted, and slid silently behind the wheel. I turned the engine and Janine tipped her head the other way. The disturbance caused her to open her eyes. She looked at me with such depth and sincerity, my breath caught.
“I love you,” she breathed before letting her eyes fall closed again. As I pushed the car into Drive, I couldn’t hide the smile that spread like wildfire across my tinted face. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I touched the horn to draw the attention of the grey-haired man. He looked up at me through his windshield and offered me a warm smile. I decided that whatever happened on the other end of our 1,000-mile journey, I would do right by Janine.
That day we drove for thirteen hours and stopped for the night in a tiny town just shy of the Indiana border. Once when I was a child, I had camped with my family somewhere in Montana at a Kampgrounds of America. It had been one of the best overnight activities of my youth, and ever since Janine and I embarked on our trip, I had been hoping to take her to a KOA. She was not in on the surprise, however. As we pulled off the highway her spidey senses began tingling. She sat taller in her chair and muttered something about not having seen a hotel sign.
“I have a surprise for you,” I said with the same unabashed excitement with which men had been using to present the line for hundreds of years. I braced myself for Janine’s less-than-enthusiastic response.
“Jake,” she breathed, the syllable dripping with disapproving discomfort. “I am not sleeping at a KOA. I am with child.”
I tried not to grind my teeth too hard. She noticed when my jaw was tense. “Pretend it is fourteen hours ago and you have no idea what’s going on inside your body.”
“I know what goes on in my body, Jake,” she said with weak defensiveness. “I knew what was going on,” she whispered while one hand slipped subconsciously across her stomach.
As much as I needed the scents of fresh air, campfire smoke, Off! Mosquito Repellant—I let the KOA issue drop. I told her it was only 20 miles to a Hilton and she relaxed against the leather back of the front seat. I watched her for a moment, studying the way she melted against the material. I wanted to be that plush car seat more in that moment than I ever thought possible. I wanted to be her reason to exhale. I wanted to be there when she landed.
It took all my effort, but we managed to drive through to the Hilton I had promised. Janine was so exhausted, she climbed in the bed fully clothed and was asleep before I’d finished bringing our bags up from the car. The trip was turning out nothing like I’d expected a few days before. I had envisioned us getting frisky and falling asleep in a sensuous, naked embrace every night between the fresh, white sheets. I sighed and turned out the lamp light, removing my clothes and carefully crawling into bed beside her. I took notice that she had two pillows under her head, and one pinned between her knees as she slept on her side. My spot was left bare. I considered lying down on my own arm, as I was pretty exhausted as well. But I managed to find the energy to call down to the front desk for an extra pillow. When it arrived, I propped it beneath my own head and slipped in behind my girlfriend. I wrapped my legs beneath hers and draped one arm over her small stomach. I fell asleep lost in visions of a grey-haired version of myself, my gorgeous wife Janine licking at a soft-serve ice cream cone.
Janine was already up and out of the bed when the light spilled through the hotel curtains, dragging me reluctantly out of my sleep. I rolled over and saw her elbow around the edge of the wall that separated the main room from the bathroom area. She was doing her hair, which was a good sign.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” I heard her sweet voice lilt. She sounded infinitely more positive than she had at any point the day before.
“Morning,” I managed, pulling my aching body from beneath the tangled sheets. As always, we had kicked the comforter to the ground during the night. I bent to pick it up, and let out a groan. Driving for long periods of time sometimes got my back to hurting, an ailment I had yet kept from Janine. There were plenty of other things she wasn’t aware of, but as I considered the tiny byproduct of our lust that was growing rapidly inside her, I decided there would be enough time to fill her in.
“You okay?” she asked, tilting at the hips so she could see around the wall. Her eyes were concerned, adorned in makeup as they were.
I waved one hand in a gesture that suggested she not worry about it, and walked the space of the room so I was standing beside her. Her features looked so strange and crooked in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. It caused my heart to jump, the sensation that the woman I had awoken to was someone different than the one I had laid down with the night before. I turned her to look at me, and the emotions I usually felt upon looking at her returned to normal. I kissed her on the mouth, savoring the taste of her toothpaste. Without a word, I ducked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
The water cascaded through my hair, washing it over the back of my neck till it almost brushed my spine. I spat the droplets that had found their way into my mouth as I turned beneath the stream. I could see steam curling above the shower curtain, painting the mirror the color of clouds. The soap was harsh, hard as the water. It left my skin feeling dry and zapped. I missed my own shower, my Old Spice body wash. I turned the handle to the off position and stood within the confines of the porcelain until I was ready to brave the chill of the bathroom beyond the curtain. I pulled it back and was surprised to see Janine sitting on the toilet fully clothed; the lid down.
“Missed me?” I asked as I reached one dripping arm over her shoulder to the stack of towels the hotel staff had left us. I removed a towel, whipped it out, and wrapped it snugly about my slender waist.
“I don’t know how I got any sleep last night, but I did. So I’m well-rested. Is it okay if we start out with me driving today?”
I pretended to mull over the question, weighing the pros and cons of saying “yes” to her sweet, child-like inquiry. “Do you have a clean record?” I jested.
“As clean as your butt,” came her retort. She then stood and wrapped her arms around my exposed shoulders. She smiled up at me, and I took in every aspect of her beautiful face. Her light hair was beginning to frizz in the steam of the bathroom. I knew she hated it, but I thought the halo of fly-aways around her face was endearing. I brushed one out of the way before I kissed her.
“Okay, you can drive.”
Forty minutes later, with our bellies full of continental breakfast and an endless river of road stretching before us, we recommenced our journey. The car rules stated that whoever was driving got control of the stereo, so I sat patiently through several hours of Kate Nash, Regina Spektor, Alanis Morissette, and other female power singers. It was good to see Janine so animated, singing and belting the lyrics she knew so well. She was actually a good singer, and I was mildly surprised to find myself enjoying her vocal accompaniment to the music. For the first time, I found myself wondering about whether our child would be a good singer. The sensation that filled my stomach and limbs was so total and so foreign, I had to hold on to something. My sudden reach for the roll bar did not escape Janine’s notice.
“What is it?” she asked, gripping the steering wheel tighter with her left hand and turning the knob on the radio with her right. The music played quietly in the background while Janine glanced at me over and over, unwilling to take her eyes off the road for too long at a time.
I let my jaw open and close a couple times, unable to find words to capture what I was feeling. It was like the most powerful sensation of love I had ever felt, and I realized that no matter what happened between Janine and me, there would always be a part of our love for one another captured in the existence of the tiny child growing inside her. My mind darted back to the man at the gas station the day before, and I said the first thing that came to my cluttered mind.
“Pull into that rest stop.”
Without any further inquiry, Janine hit the right turn signal and maneuvered into the rest stop that had conveniently come up on our route. She parked the vehicle and turned her attention to me. “What’s wrong, Jake?”
I couldn’t bring my eyes to meet hers. I knew I’d get overwhelmed. “Can we get out of the car?”
At this point we’d made it to the western end of Ohio. The rest stop was situated beside a pleasant man-made lake. I exited the Jeep and walked to the nearest edge of the lake. I hardly noticed the family enjoying a picnic on the far side of the lake. I turned my full attention to Janine, who was standing uncomfortably on the edge of the water beside me. Without a word, I dropped to my knee and took Janine’s nimble hand in my own thick, clumsy ones. I looked up at her, grateful the sun was behind me, causing the light to hit Janine’s beautiful, bright eyes. She knew exactly what I was doing, but she said nothing.
“Janine,” I began, barely able to get through those first syllables. “I want to do right by you. But more importantly, I know that I want to spend my life with you; not only as the father of your child, but as the man who will stand beside you through everything.” I cleared my throat, a weak attempt at brushing away the emotions that were curling up through my stomach like smoke. “Will you be my wife?”
Janine was crying openly. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and cast her eyes to the small family on the other side of the water. I peeled my eyes away from her lovely face, and took in the same sights. The dad was holding a small girl on his lap. The little girl was shrieking with every bounce of her father’s knee. The mother was showing a little boy something very small. Their heads were leaning together conspiratorially. I knew Janine was trying to visualize us in the same roles. I hoped she liked what she saw.
“Thank you,” she said after a pause, “For not doing this in front of my family.” I looked up at her again, just in time to witness the beauty of her face as it split into a radiant smile. I knew her answer. “Of course I’ll marry you, Jake.”
She let me off the hook for not having a ring, and allowed me to purchase her a soda from the vending machine. She even gave me the keys and said her mind was too occupied to keep driving. I took this as a good sign and was grateful to have full control over the stereo. Truth be told, I was so appreciative of my new fiancé, I even left Regina Spektor playing.
We arrived at Janine’s parents’ house around eleven that night. We were both strung out from the road, and irritable to boot. To my great delight, Janine had the kind of parents who could read a person’s emotions. They let me go straight to the basement bedroom they had set up for me. Her dad assured me we’d have a nice, long, getting-to-know-you chat over breakfast. I was so tired, I didn’t even let this daunting bit of news bother me as I prepared for bed.
The house was small, and the bedroom took up half the basement. It was colder than I had prepared for, and I asked Janine if she could bring down an extra blanket. She said she’d have to sneak down past her father’s study door. When I reminded Janine she was twenty-four years old, she reminded me her father was the pastor of his congregation. It would be extremely unfitting for his daughter to spend the night with her boyfriend. Janine hadn’t agreed with her dad’s religious practices since middle school, however, and shortly after midnight I heard her on the stairs.
I watched her toes step delicately from one stair to the next, the shimmering silver toenail polish catching what little light was spilling from the main floor. Her slender ankles came next, and the curve and swell of her calves as they morphed into her flawless knees. She was wearing a tiny pair of shorts, and a form-fitting tank-top beneath a loose sweater. She looked like the epitome of comfort carrying a large quilt.
“Well, hello,” I whispered into the darkness, anticipating her eyes lighting on mine.
Janine looked at me seductively, and my body responded. At that moment her father’s office chair squeaked upstairs and I silently pleaded with my body to cooperate. I managed to relax just as Janine reached the side of the bed. She unfolded the quilt and spread it over the queen-sized mattress on which I laid. Just as she turned to go back upstairs, I stopped her.
“He won’t know if you stay for a couple minutes,” I reasoned.
Janine looked worried, but said nothing. She slipped into the bed beside me, wrapping her legs around mine. She was so warm I thought there might be something wrong. I asked her about it. “My mom keeps it, like, 80 degrees upstairs,” was her casual response. I knew she was tired as I was, but it felt like something was off. I wondered if her parents had given her a talking-to already. Though this didn’t seem likely, I couldn’t get the notion to leave me long enough to sleep comfortably. I tossed and turned and lie awake staring at the ceiling for much of the night. I was so distracted by my thoughts, I didn’t even remember to wake Janine and send her back upstairs before sunrise.
I heard the first sounds of life around eight the following morning. It amazed me how thunderous the footsteps of a hungry teenage brother could sound from below, as he ran down the stairs to join his parents for breakfast. I heard his voice first. “Janine’s not in her room,” he said casually—not accusing, merely stating the fact. At the words, my heart stopped and I looked beside me, where Janine was sleeping as peacefully and gracefully as any of the angels her father preached about. Before I woke her, I heard the tell-tale scooting sound of her father pushing his chair away from the table. There were footsteps, and then, “Janine? Are you down there?”
I shook her shoulder hard, more intent on waking her quickly than doing it delicately. “Janine, get up,” I hissed, praying to a god I didn’t believe in to keep the pastor at the top of the stairs. “Your family is awake,” I tried.
Janine muttered something about time, ignoring my pleading. I knew she didn’t remember where she was, or she’d be as eager to join the living as I was. I shook her shoulder again, aggressively. “Your dad is talking to you.”
These seemed to be the magic words. Janine sat up, her eyes wild and confused. “Where is he?” she asked, at top volume.
“I’m up here, young lady,” came his dark, disturbing response. “You’ve got one minute.”
Janine shot me a horrible look that reminded me it had been my job to wake her, to send her back to her room. She threw off the blankets that had uncharacteristically lasted through the night, and was just about to storm up the stairs when I saw the scene that made my heart stand still. Janine’s shorts were stained, as were the sheets beneath them. The color was vicious and offensive, it reeked of metal. My stomach churned at the realization that it was blood. I leaned over my side of the bed and let out a sticky, putrid stream of vomit.
“What’s going on down there?” was her father’s response to my upheaval. My eyes were watering, my ears ringing, my stomach writhing in upset. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if I should turn and face my future father-in-law, or if I should recover, be a man, and see to the needs of my fiancé, who would, in a matter of seconds, notice what had happened inside her body during the night. God only knew what kind of response the discovery would merit from Janine.
The steps on the stairs told me the older man was slowly descending. I was through vomiting, having expelled what little matter had remained in my stomach through the night. I turned to Janine, my eyes wild and pleading, despite my best efforts to remain collected. She wasn’t looking at me anymore. Her eyes were glued to the mess all around her. Her mouth was open just a little, the complete horror of the situation not yet registering on her sleepy face. I could feel the tears breaking past the barrier of my eyelids. I felt weak and defenseless.
“What in the hell?” was her father’s enraged response to the scene when he reached the foot of the stairs. Neither one of us heard him as he began to rant. Janine scooted closer to me, and I had no choice but to wrap my arms around her and hold her as we both fell to pieces at the end of the whirlwind ride that made up the past couple of days.
Oblivious to the anger, the sadness, and above all the confusion that was trickling down the stairs and accumulating in the puddle of Janine’s family, I held her while she sobbed. Our shoulders shook with the pain and confusion of what had occurred in the course of three days. At some point we had created a child, learned of its existence, and devastatingly lost it all before we really knew what a miracle we had possessed. I took a deep, stabilizing breath and pulled back from Janine. I placed my clumsy hands on either side of her face, and steadied it. I bore into her eyes with mine, and I whispered with enough passion and intensity to move mountains, “I will always want you. This doesn’t change a thing.” Without a word, I tore the hem of her ruined shorts and fashioned from it a tiny ring. I said nothing as I slid the piece of fabric over her knuckle and let it rest between her middle and pinky fingers. We looked at the ring, and then at each other, and the look we shared solidified the knowledge that no matter what happened down the road, Janine and I would be ready.

bedtime

i let my head roll to the left, then to the right. i breathed in deeply; exhaled slowly. i considered shifting positions, but decided against it. it wasn't worth the noise or the risk of waking my roommate. i closed my eyes tightly, but when your face was all that filled my view, i flicked them open again. i tried making out faces in the ceiling, but it was too dark. i had made sure no modicum of light could disrupt my insatiable desire to just sleep. every night i went through the trouble of shutting down my entire computer and entertainment system, so no blinking monitors or power strips could annoy. on a slow day in shop class i had covered two pieces of cardboard with aluminum foil, and every night i would place them snugly within the borders of my bedroom window. i would run a strip of duct tape around the edges, top, and bottom of my bedroom door, should my roommate come home in the night and flick on the hall light. i was prepared for sleep in every way, but it would never come. i don't know how to explain it any other way than to say you took the night away from me.
in days gone by, i used to be excellent at sleeping. i could fall asleep in under two minutes, and i could remain in the same position for nearly eight hours. my dreams were vivid and colorful. my sleep was always entertaining while restful. my bed and i shared a phenomenal relationship. i had never before let another person in, and i refused to sleep anywhere else. but then you came along.
we'd been dating four months already; i felt it was high time to let you spend the night. i remember i was already under the covers when you exited the bathroom in nothing but a tight cotton camisole and an adorably sexy pair of boyish x-men panties. i pulled back the soft, down comforter. i remembered the way the matress sunk beneath your delicate weight. your smooth legs slid down the length of the two sheets, brushing against the hairs on my legs, causing everything from my toes to my navel to begin tingling. you lulled me to sleep that night with the whispers of your thoughts. they flowed from your sweet, pink lips like spring water; washing my mind with their purity. i slept in the arms of angels that night.
the following night, i didn't even have to ask you to stay. you slid in beneath the sheets behind me and wrapped your slender arms around my chest. i played with your knuckles in the dark of the room, wishing it were light so i could count the fine hairs on each one. i breathed in the scent of your palm and smelled the same soap my mother had always bought when i was a kid. instead of my falice growing, my heart swelled and i wondered if that might be a taste of what it felt like to love.
as time went on, i grew even more in love with you in dreams than i did in the waking hours. that is not to say i didn't love you indelibly in the daylight; it only means the night was an ecstatic and euphoric time for me. i went so far as to invite you to nap beside me. you laughed, but never gave in. your life was too busy for that. i should have known better.
it was two entire years before you grew bored of sleeping with me. or maybe you were bored by some other facet of our relationship. whatever it was that drew you out the door, you followed it and never looked back. ever since that first night when all i could feel was your absence, i haven't been able to sleep. every night since that dreadful one, i have found myself lying flat on my back, begging some unseen gods to help me find relief. all my attempts have been unsuccessful.
i tried to imagine you there with me again, but it was such a vain mockery of my memories of us, i stopped. some nights, when sleep almost caught up to me, i felt the phantom sensation amputees sometimes speak of. my bed would sink on your side, and my leg hairs stood on end. my whole countenance went rigid and i couldn't get the feeling to leave. such sweet torment i felt those nights as i tossed and turned beneath the now-foreign sheets that adorned my sacrificial bed.

from left field

It seemed no matter where she looked, nothing looked the way it was supposed to. Nothing looked how she was used to seeing it. Even the sky was different. It glittered green, it was even paler than the usual sky blue. The clouds were pink. On really stormy days the sky looked like a watermelon, cut open. She thought it was beautiful. Some days she spent hours lying on her back in the bluegrass watching the sky morph and change. When she did go on walks, there was always something new and more intriguing lurking around the corner. One bright Tuesday morning she rounded a turn in the path to discover a walking, talking palm tree. Its leaves were a brilliant blood red and they shimmered in the early sun. The palm tree smiled at the girl. The girl waved, still half in awe of the brilliance of those leaves, spanned out so far above her head. She put her car in third gear and gunned past the palm tree, leaving it and its smile in her dust. At the bottom of a steep downhill slope, the girl—we shall now name her Elle—came upon a most glorious sight. There was a pool with the shadow of a rainbow coloring its surface. Frolicking in the water and running on the grass around it, were a dozen or so fluffy white puppies. Lurking back, in the shadows, were a few tiny kittens, barely able to lift their own heads; not quite ready to survey the scene. Elle approached the enclosure where the puppies and kitties reluctantly roamed. Standing near the entrance was a large bird. Elle would later identify it as an ostrich: an ostrich that bore a striking resemblance to Big Bird from her youth. She spoke with the ostrich, keeping her mouth in a big, round O as she spOke each wOrd. The ostrich informed her what the enclosure was. It was a farm. A breeding ground where only the most loving, friendly, compassionate puppies and kitties were produced. It was a euphoric place for breeders of ideal puppies and kitties. They were frequently paying the ostrich their two pence to spend an hour in the enclosure, admiring the young new animals. The ostrich offered Elle a discount of only one pence. She searched her pockets but could not find even half a pence. She explained this to the ostrich but he showed her no mercy. He rudely directed her up the hill to a second-rate kennel where crazy and vicious animals were accidently bred, only because the man in charge was a sparrow. He had no authority over the dogs, whatsoever. Elle decided not to go that way. She did not want to go somewhere she could accidentally be wounded. She sadly walked past the utopian dog kennel and hopped into her buggy that she had been cruising about in all this time. She put the car in gear and rolled down the hill and away from the many dogs. She dipped low until she was heading quickly down a beach towards some deep, purple water. Rather than step on the breaks, she pressed the gas and plunged into the sea. She kept going down until the pressure on the little car became a concern. But lower she went and the buggy held strong. She saw little cities from the future, in bright colors. She saw the statue of a woman holding a torch. She saw a tower, like a needle pointing straight towards the sky. There was a Golden bridge and a wall that stretched across the whole space. It was so beautiful down there on the bottom of the sea. There were tiny little fish that glowed in the water. They would look like stars to the tiny organisms living down among the sandy sidewalks. She was swimming among the stars, Elle thought. She tried looking around for more new discoveries, but the light was becoming dim. She turned on the headlights to her little vehicle, and they lit up only a small radius. She was not satisfied with the outcome, and she was going deeper still. As the pressure increased, Elle began to fear. Her stomach tied into a knot. Just then, the buggy crashed through the ceiling of a great big cave. The buggy fell like a pebble from top to bottom, and when it clattered down, the girl popped out. She looked up at the interior of the cave, and could scarcely believe her eyes. She looked up into a glorious atmosphere. It was like staring into the pictures from the Hubble Space Shuttle. It was bright and colorful and infinite. She stared at the ceiling until her head felt like a cloud that might float away and dissipate. She didn’t want that to happen, though. She closed her eyes tightly and looked down at the ground. Her head became a solid again, and she began following the path on foot. She saw giant one-dimensional Salvador Dali paintings, done in neon paints, glowing from black lights. She was having a psychedelic trip, feeling free and easy and afeared of nothing. She strolled along the neon-lit path. She reached a comfortable wooden door, knob on the right. She turned the knob and the door allowed her through. She walked down a great corridor, then down the steps to an endless ballroom. All the beautiful people she had ever seen in life or read about in magazines were twirling around the dance floor. The most handsome men were dancing with the B-list beauties. The Cougars were discussing facelifts and the DJ was a giant Swordfish, wearing a Tuxedo t-shirt. He was spinning 80s music and the bass was thumping. Elle had never seen or heard such a sound. She couldn’t help tapping her feet to the beat, just itching to join the beautiful people on the dance floor. She had just descended the stairs when the mood of the music turned sensual. Fields of Gold washed through Elle’s ears. She was very familiar with this song, she thought. She had lived her life to the tune of this song. Always mellow and unique. Always far eastern, never becoming the West Valley type. She was true to herself and all those she loved. She became a woman to that song that was now filling the ballroom. She searched the crowd of glamorous celebrities for the perfect partner with whom to dance. She glanced through the eyes of all her favorites: Russell Crowe, Robert Downey Jr, Colin Ferrell, Bruce Willis. Her eyes danced across Zac Efron’s and Bradley Cooper’s. Then they lighted on a pair of deep brown eyes, held in a tight manner, unsure of this beautiful woman he now had in his sights. She panned out from those perfect eyes and discovered the perfect nose and lips and jaw and hair that was Hugh Jackman. He was heroic even in person. When he saw the way her lip trembled, he eased his expression and his stance. He bid a quiet hello to the girl who was standing in the center of the ballroom. Elle could barely walk as she moved towards the prince before her. She extended her hands and the man took them both. He pressed his lips to the delicate skin between her knuckles, and the sky exploded with color. Elle could scarcely breathe, she was so entranced with the man. He was in every way flawless. From head to broad toe, he was the epitome of everything attractive and right and just in the world. He was the utopian man. Elle’s mind flashed to the perfect kennel where all the brilliant puppies and kitties were kept. But as her hands touched his forearms, any thought of overgrown pests went from her mind. She now had in her hands the girth and heat and passion of a real, human man. Her heart was hammering to beat the band. Her cheeks were flushed a red apple hue. She looked beautiful in all her embarrassment. The man leaned in to place a curious kiss on her lips. They kissed, passionately as can be expected. Then the camera panned out and away from the girl and her new mate. It showed the pond. The one with the rainbow surface. There were singing, dancing dolphins, twirling on the surface of the water like fountains. They were beautiful and shimmery as they sung and spun, looking like glory herself. Out came a lobster playing the electric guitar, making it scream and cry. It was a magnificent jam session with the crab playing the baby grand. Those dolphins kept singing and swaying until they began spinning and everyone got a bit of a headache as they twirled out of sight. The sun set. The stars and the moon rose bright in that deep green sky. It was like a green felt pool table with the contrast turned up. It was so green, nearly black. The stars looked pink, like little dots of watermelon in a vast shell.
As Elle looks up at that vast of sky, she notices the trees swaying at the outskirts of her vision. She is in a field, so it’s her field of vision. It’s a forest of those beautiful red palm trees. They’re like Midnight in Moscow red-black in this hollow night, when the stars look so distant. Elle walks to them and places her ear against the slow-moving trunk of the nearest giant palm tree. She hears beautiful music, the swells and dips of her favorite ballads and dirges. She hears Nick Cave and Mika and Norah Jones all serenading her, slowly and sweetly, with pain in their collective heart. Just as a tear wells up in her eye, Elle hears something rustle through the trees. She squints her eyes and discovers it’s a life-size My Little Pony. It’s a very pale yellow with a shooting star painted on its hindquarters. Elle can’t resist letting a smile spread over her face as she admires the pony’s shimmering white mane. She reaches out her hand, as if asking the pony if she may touch. The pony nods, and then giggles. “You know, I can speak,” the smooth, plastacine animal coos. Elle laughs as well and begins to carry on a conversation with the Little Pony

my name is mud

I looked down at the boots I had stolen. When I'd picked them up they'd been shiny black rubber. Now they were caked with a rich brown mud. The soles were disappearing in the muck with each step I took. I reveled in the squishing, squelching sound as I removed my foot and tromped again. I had always had such heightened auditory senses. I appreciated the seasons for their unique sounds: birds chirping in the summer, the infinitesimal sizzling of the sun on asphalt; the crunch and crackle of leaves and fire in the fall. I adored the audible silence of snow on snow, small animals breathing, the chomping noise of walking through a field of white in winter. In spring it was the mud. The mud and the movement of the trees as they pushed forth new and beautiful blossoms. I was very fond of the newness.

My arms were swinging in my sleeves, brushing against the top of my pants. The coat didn't belong to me, either. It was a dark wool exterior with a crimson satin liner. I loved the smooth swish of my arms against the fabric as I moved. For a change, I twirled my arms like windmill blades and listened to the zipping noise it produced. I wished I were as powerful as a windmill. I looked down at my small hands: punctuation marks on a short, slight frame. There was mud on the hem of the jacket, and lining the fingernails on my left hand. I didn't remember falling, but anything could have happened in the night. It had been such an incomprehensible blur. I swallowed the clouded memory and kept squishing along.

I didn't know where I was going. I had inadvertently run into the marsh in my desperation to escape the bad men. My brother had told me horses didn't do so good in the mud. He was always making things up, but this morsel of advice I chose to believe. If he was right, I figured I'd be home free. If he was wrong, well, I'd just end up in the orphanage right alongside him. That couldn't be the worst fate, could it? I shook this thought away and soldiered on.

Somewhere to my right I heard the rhythmic croak of a bullfrog. I squinted through the swamp trees and growth for the noisy amphibian, but had no luck. I wished I could camouflage myself with such ease. There was no telling who would spot me struggling through the mud, sticking out in my stolen wool coat like a black sheep in a flock of white. I hunched my narrow shoulders and kept my head down. Maybe my cap of dark brown curls would deceive any onlookers. Maybe they'd think I was just another weed.

After some distance, I heard the crackling and popping of a fire. I wondered first how anyone would start a fire burning in these wet conditions. I lifted my head and sniffed the air. It was a cooking fire. I detected the scent of melted butter curling around an air fowl as it floated on the breeze to meet me. I took a deep breath and redirected my footsteps so I would eventually come up on the food. I walked with my head back and my eyes closed, following the sounds of the spit and the scent of the vittles. I was so distracted by the enticing odor, I failed to notice the scent of dust and wood that suggested I was about to walk face-first into a cabin.

I did just that. There was a tremendous thud, and an uncomfortable throbbing in my nose that caused me to stumble backwards. The heel of the over-sized boot caught on a nearby root or rock, and I fell through the air like an axed tree. Timber! I thought as I landed heavily on my bottom in a sodding pool of mud. The goop splashed noisily before rocking back into place, hugging my body like porridge to the spoon. The very thought of food made my stomach tighten and ache once more. I felt my eyes smart with the pain and the humiliation of my situation. I wrapped my small fingers in a fist and was just about to punch the mud in defeat, when a voice distracted me.

"Eh, there's no use doing that. Gimme your hand before you muck it up," she said. I looked up into her soil-black eyes and gaped. She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen, and she had one arm stretched out to me. The other was holding up the hem of a long, blue skirt, so as to not let it drag in the marsh mud. I looked quickly down at my own clothes, and again felt miserably embarrassed. Without a word, I reached up and watched as she wrapped her capable hand around mine and lifted me effortlessly out of the mud.

jezebel waiting

She was sitting by the window, just as she’d done every day for a month. She was twirling the razor blade in her fingers, just as she’d done every day for five months. It just seemed more logical to do it here by the window, as opposed to cowering in the bathtub like before. At least if she got the nerve up, bled out, and slumped in a heap in the flower bed, the mailman would see her eventually. She couldn’t say the same if she were lying in four inches of her own viciously red lifeblood. She sighed, took a sip of her iced tea, and waited.
She wasn’t sure at all what she was waiting for. She just had the overwhelming sense that she must wait, and so she did. She had never been the type to second-guess the promptings of Mother Nature. And it was Mother Nature who had advised her to wait in the first place. She had been standing on the porch, watering her hanging vines, when a small songbird pranced up the stairs and looked up at her from it’s perch on the peeling planks of wood.
“Wayyyy,” it sang. She asked it politely to sing again. “Wayyyyt,” it repeated.
“Did you say ‘wait’?” she asked incredulously.
The little bird dipped its head in a nod, or more logically to pick an invisible bug off the dry, cracked wood. “Wayyyt. Wayyyyt.” It whistled a few more times before nodding once more and flying away in the direction of the river. She had stood on the porch, watering can in hand, and waited for the rest of the afternoon. She told herself that if nothing noteworthy had occurred by sundown, she would resume waiting the following morning. This pattern had repeated itself every day for the past twenty-nine. Jezebel was tired of waiting.
She was watching a dragonfly maintain it’s place above the bobbing heads of her violets, when the telephone rang. With a displeased sigh at having been interrupted, she stood and walked to the dividing wall in the kitchen. She placed one hand on the back of the fading yellow phone and lifted it from the hook and to her ear.
Without a word, she waited for the caller to make him or herself known. “What’re you waiting for, Jezebel!?” the voice asked sharply.
With her mouth in a perfect O, Jezebel looked at the receiver and tried frantically to place who was calling. “Well. I can’t rightly s—”
She was cut off. “It’s me, Joe Abernathy! I’m in town and I was ‘spectin’ to see you, young lady! Get your britches down to the post office so’s I can give you a squeeze!”
Jezebel placed her razor blade on the counter and lifted her free hand to her neck. “Joseph?” she asked, very quietly.
“Yeah! Joseph. Joe. Who else would it be? Why you sound like you just seen a ghost, Miss Jezebel?” She hoped he’d continue, but he honestly wanted a response.
“Well, I never did expect to hear from you again, Joseph. That’s all. And you do sound so… clear.”
At this, Joseph James Abernathy let out a deep laugh. “Well, yeah, Miss Jezebel. It’s these new-fangled phones they have. Don’t even have a cord. You just punch in the number and they’ll connect you to anyone, anywheres. Inn’t that something? I just picked me one up a couple months back and I have been burning up the phone lines. Guess I shoulda called you sooner, but I haven’t been in town.” He paused. “Am now, though, so get your britches down here!”
Jezebel was tempted to remind him she was a proper lady and wouldn’t be caught dead in britches. She smoothed one hand over the back of her skirt and mumbled that she’d be right down. Without waiting for another bright, positive word from Joseph Abernathy, she hung up the phone, picked up her razor blade, and returned to her perch by the window.
It wasn’t long before the mailman, Mister Arthur Winslow, came whistling and high-stepping up to her front porch. He twiddled a few fingers through the window at her, and set about putting the bills in her mailbox. It took a great amount of effort on Jezebel’s part, but she stood and rushed to the door before he’d finished.
“Mister Winslow,” she began, nearly out of breath and flushed in the cheeks.
“Why, good day Miss Jezebel. What can I do you for?” He smiled and removed the end of his gnawed cigar from beneath his thin white mustache. He waited for her response with gentle eyes.
“Actually, Mister Winslow, I have quite a favor to ask of you.” She realized she was still flicking the razor blade between her fingers, and with a small gasp tucked it behind her back. “I need a ride to the post office. Joseph Abernathy is there waiting for me, and I don’t think I could make it walking.”
Arthur pondered this a moment before nodding, his smile widening. “Sure thing, little miss. These letters n’ things can wait for tomorrow. Let’s get you to your groom.”
Jezebel felt her cheeks flush at this. She thought of protesting, but decided against it. Joseph’s return would cause enough of a stir without her denying everything he was probably saying right this moment at the post office. God only knew what kind of damage Joseph James Abernathy could cause on a Thursday afternoon.
“I’m just going to step inside and collect my things. You wouldn’t mind pulling the truck around, would you, Mister Winslow?”
The skin around Arthur’s blue eyes crinkled as he looked at the damaged girl. “No, not at all, Miss Jezebel. I’ll be waiting just out here.”
She retreated into the house and wondered very briefly what sort of things she should take with her to meet Joseph. She had an overnight bag packed, as her mother had always advised. But she didn’t want to appear presumptuous. She had a handbag, but there wasn’t much in it but several Crush bottle caps and a few crumpled, unused tissues left over from her father’s funeral service. She set the razor on the seat by the window and decided to take both the handbag and the overnight bag. Mama had always said there was no such thing as being too prepared.
She slipped her coat over her dress, despite it being a pleasant 76 degrees outside. She never had been good with predicting the weather, and it could turn to rain any time of day or night. She locked the door and patted her pocket to make sure the key was there. When she felt confident that all was right inside her little house, she made her way to where Mister Winslow was idling his mail delivery truck.
“All set, Miss Jezebel?” he asked, putting one hand on the gear shift and extending one to his fare. She accepted his hand and pulled herself into the shredded fabric seat. It smelled of exhaust and stamp glue, and Jezebel felt a little more at ease with the whole situation. “Do forgive me, these things don’t come equipped with belts. If we do get in any kind of situation between here and the post office, I’ll be sure to hold onto you real tight.”
Jezebel was startled at the realization that an automobile might not be completely safe. She tried not to let her alarm show, and sat back in the car seat. She held onto her handbag and pinned her knees together around her overnight bag, so it wouldn’t slide. The ride to the post office was only about five minutes with the way Mister Winslow drove, and Jezebel was grateful for that. She was never any good at conversation, especially around people she admired as much as her mailman.
When they arrived in front of the short, squat building that housed the post office, Jezebel thanked him and politely extracted herself and her bags from the vehicle. She took a deep breath and headed for the sagging steps of the little government building. She made it just to the top step when the rusty hinges of the door burst open and there stood the love of her short life, in all his glory.
“Well I’ll be damned if it isn’t my Miss Jezebel Baker,” he sang, holding his strong arms out wide.
Her cheeks flushed again and she avoided looking into those silver eyes. “You watch your mouth, Joseph James. I’m likely to think you’ve spent the last seven months dealing with sailors.”
“And how you know I hain’t?” he asked with a wicked gleam in his eye. “You get your cute ass up here and hug me proper.”
Jezebel reluctantly let go of both her bags, and stepped the remaining two feet to where Joseph stood, waiting. She smiled shyly and wrapped her arms around his trunk. She could barely touch her own fingertips around the girth of him, and she felt herself warm all over at the memory. She rested her cheek on the pane of his chest and breathed in the scent of man and adventure and dusty things. She also paid very close attention to how his arms fell around her. At first, he was cautious, moving his arms gently around her upper back. But when he realized he wasn’t about to break her in two, he swept her up into his arms and twirled her around one, despite her shrieks of delighted protest.
“My Jezebel,” he breathed upon placing her back on the boards. “Look at you, pretty lady. They been telling me you bin keepin’ yourself holed up in that old house. What kinda thing is that to do with the beautiful face God gave ya?”
Her cheeks colored for the dozenth time. “You know me,” she said quietly, not really wanting to elaborate or explain what, to Joseph, might seem like peculiar behavior.
“I’m not so sure,” he said after a little too long. “Girly, when I met you, you were something else entirely.”
Jezebel waited a beat as well. Then she brought her swimming brown eyes up to meet his. “You know what they say,” she said quietly. “Time changes a person.”
And with that, Jezebel picked up her bags and began the trek back to her little old house. As she walked, feeling the heat on her hunched shoulders, wishing she had chosen to leave the coat at home, she realized that if Joseph really meant the things he had said to her all that time ago, he knew just where to find her.

It was nearly eight p.m. when Jezebel arrived, sodden wet, to her house. She was no longer regretting the rain coat, but if she was being honest, it hadn’t helped make the trek any less humiliating. She dropped the bags on the floor, just as she had upon seeing Joseph, and stepped up to the door. She pulled open the screeching screen door and went for her key. Her heart skipped when she realized it was no longer in her pocket.
“Oh, Jesus!” she cursed, half-praying and half-damning. “How could I be so foolish!” she shouted, fists balled and eyes welling up. She stomped her feet several times before slumping down in the porch swing. The runoff began dripping from the roof right into the back of her rain coat. She couldn’t catch a break. She tried to ignore the filthy trickle of the dusty water running into her coat as she hung her head into her hands and began sobbing.
She was thinking of how wretched her meeting with Joseph had gone, and regretting terribly the weakness she felt in all her extremities, when she heard a creak on the porch step. She whipped her head up to see who it was, but the cloud cover and the late hour didn’t help in identifying her visitor.
“Wh-who’s there? Who is that?” she asked, too sad and weak to bother standing to face her intruder.
“Don’t you worry your pretty head, Jez. It’s just me, Joe. Joseph.”
Jezebel’s heart returned to it’s steady beating pattern before racing again when she realized that his presence was almost worse than that of a stranger’s. “What are you doing here, Joseph James? I think I made myself very clear at the post office that I don’t want to see you.”
She could almost make out the crease of his forehead as she watched him. “I do beg to differ on that, Jezebel. You made yourself ‘bout as clear as mud, is what you did. If you’ll let me in to dry off I promise I’ll try n’ explain it all to ya. Please, give me a chance to do that much.”
She didn’t say anything for a while. She listened to the rain drip off the porch and water her flowers for her. That was one less chore she’d have to do in the morning, she told herself. “Fine, Joseph. I would let you in, I’ll give you that much. I’d let you in but I don’t have my key. It seems to have slipped from my pocket at some point between the post office and my front door. So if it’s all the same to you I guess we’ll just have to speak out here and wait for our death to find us.”
Joseph stepped closer, his round shoulders silhouetted against the dim ambient light of the world outside her front porch. “Now don’t get all worked up, little lady. I found yer key in the mud just before the sun gone down. How else you think I was gonna get inside if you locked me out?”
Jezebel battled momentarily with relief and utter disdain at his sneaky ways. She decided there was no use being angry at him for helping her out. She plucked the key from his thick, square fingers and turned sharply to the door. She inserted it forcefully into the lock and turned. “Grab my things,” she ordered haughtily before entering the house. She listened with satisfaction as the screen door banged closed behind her.
Ten minutes later, Jezebel was changed into a long nightdress, sitting in front of the fire with a cup of hot tea in her hands. Her feet were tucked under her bottom and her eyes were bright as she looked across the room at Joseph. He was sitting Indian-style on the bare patch of floor, trying to dry off. He wasn’t doing anything but looking at the flicking flames, thinking.
“Well,” Jezebel began after some time. “I do believe I let you in to explain yourself, not just sit there looking like… like…” She couldn’t finish out of embarrassment.
Her flustered accusation brought Joseph’s sparkling grey eyes across the room to rest on her. He smirked just the slightest bit. “Like what, Miss Jezebel?” He wasn’t teasing, he was genuinely curious and Jezebel felt her cheeks heat up. They always did when he addressed her directly. It reminded her of so many times before when he had whispered her name that very same way. The intimate times.
“I lost my words. That’s all.”
“I plead with you to find ‘em,” he said, his smile sweet and honest.
She took an indignant sip of her tea, enjoying the sweet refuge of the sugar melting over her tied tongue. It seemed to loosen it just a bit, and she admitted, “I was going to say you look just like Christ come on Easter morning, that’s how handsome you are. Satisfied with yourself?”
What had been intended as a playful jest on Jezebel’s part seemed to strike a chord within Joseph. He lowered his eyes and slid them back to the lazy, licking flames of the fire. “Not at all, Jez. Not in the teeniest, tiniest bit. I bin downright rotten.”
The confession caught Jezebel off guard. She thought about readjusting her legs, sitting forward with her elbows on her knees, but thought better of it. Perhaps if she played it casual, he would continue. Perhaps he would apologize. She didn’t want to do anything that might break this strange, conspiratorial spell around her and her husband.
He took a deep breath, but kept his eyes glued to the fire. He began flicking his thumb against the inside of his index finger, like he usually did when he was nervous. He even had a callus from it, if Jezebel remembered correctly. She had always adored his hands.
“I know you probably got a million and two reasons to wanna be rid of me, girl. I know you got all sorts of reasons flying around in that head of yours, too. But sometimes, the worst part of it all, is that you don’ even know why I left. Do ya?” He still didn’t look at her, just waited for her response.
“Suppose I don’t, Joseph. Why don’t you just tell me, then?” She couldn’t help the bite in her voice. She hadn’t seen the man in seven long months. She had survived a hundred things without his help, and wasn’t so sure she needed him around after all. But it was at that moment, as she watched him in the firelight and remembered what the small bird had said, that she realized perhaps this is what she’d been waiting for after all. She swallowed the lump in her throat and set her tea on the small table beside her chair. She waited.
“Your father,” Joseph began darkly. “I hate to be a cliché, Jez, I really do. But you know better’n most that man was a sonuvabitch. I jus’ couldn’t be around him no more. I had to get out and get my head cleared.”
“And leave me here with him?” she asked quietly.
The air in the room went still. Silent. It felt almost as if Cleveland Baker had walked right through the front door. Jezebel’s heart stilled at the horrible idea, and she began kneading her hands, wishing she had the comfortable edge of her razor to occupy her fingers. She looked frantically at Joseph, silently pleading that he’d bring his eyes to hers. It seemed to work, and those bright, clear orbs of light looked right through her.
“What did he do to you?” he asked darkly, the flames reflecting in his eyes in such a way. He looked like the fury of the Devil was in him. Jezebel knew better than to be frightened of Joseph, but the whole situation was just too tense for her. Her bottom lip began to quiver and she folded her arms around her upper half. She shook her head once, as if to signal that the conversation was over. He was welcome to leave.
“No chance, Jezebel,” Joseph said in his throat, looking at her for all the answers. “You tell me what he did and I’ll do anything I can to fix it. Anything. I done wrong leaving you here with that monster. Tell me.”
Her thoughts were swirling and colliding within her head. They had a habit of doing that, creating an impossible whirlwind that left her confused and dizzy. She sometimes wished she were a bull rider with a lasso, so she could swing in there and grab the thoughts she wanted. She shook her head, hoping the debris of her mind would settle into something she could manage. “Take me to bed,” she finally whispered, not daring to look at Joseph.
“Jez, that’s not gonna help matters. We need to dis—”
“Take me to bed, damn it!” she shouted, still looking at the pattern in the carpet. She felt the flames behind her own eyes, and wondered if it would be enough to persuade her husband. The air was still as quiet and still as before, but Jezebel felt a strange sense of control now. “I’ve been waiting for you for eight months, Joseph James Abernathy. You come into my house tonight and ask me what happened while you were gone? Well all that can wait. First, I am going to get what I want. You are my husband, and you take me to bed.”
It amazed Jezebel that after all that time, and all those feelings, the sensation of her body against Joseph’s never really changed. She could be stark, raving mad at the man one minute, totally head-over-heels in love with him the next, and spectacularly indifferent right after that. But when it came time for lovemaking, Jezebel and Joseph Abernathy were completely and undeniably in synch.
The way she slid her delicate fingers over his chest and stomach and groin made every hair on both their bodies stand on end. The way her mouth moved around the landmarks—his lips, nipples, fingertips—made them both vibrate with excitement. The warmth and depth of their kisses reminded them both that no matter what kind of rough patches they hit, they would somehow make it out, hand-in-hand, on the other side.
They brought each other to euphoria several times that first night. By morning they were completely exhausted both physically and emotionally. The only logical choice was to sleep through much of the day. It wasn’t till well after noon that Jezebel finally declared it time to have the discussion.
“Joseph,” she began softly, in a tone that almost suggested another roll in the sheets. “Why did you leave me alone with him?”
He kept his eyes closed, obviously lost in thoughts that teetered on the edge of the relationship they were just now rebuilding, and the one he had thoughtlessly knocked down months before. He began flicking his finger again. Jezebel reached over and placed her hand in his, to quiet it. She admired the calluses, rough and dry as they were against her frail hands.
“I woulda killed him, Jez. I woulda killed him, no doubt an’ I sure as hell don’t know what that woulda done to you.”
She thought about how to proceed carefully. “Would that not have been better?”
She thought she saw Joseph’s eyelids flutter, but she must have been mistaken. If anything, he closed them tighter. “Okay, even if my killin’ Cleveland woulda made things better sooner, it woulda been a whole diff’rent game if I’da been hauled away to jail. You know that.”
She imagined Joseph being locked behind bars, the blood of her father staining his clothes and his hands and his reputation. He was too good a man for that kind of fate. At least he had been before. She wasn’t sure exactly what kind of man he was anymore. She sighed and realized he was right. Maybe leaving had been the only option.
“You really ought to have taken me with you,” she said quietly, not wishing to upset her husband, but not willing to let the words go unspoken. She was very determined to get the point across to Joseph: Never again in their marriage would he leave her behind.
He sighed, still refusing to open his eyes and face the world around him. She wondered if he was imagining he was somewhere else. Many nights she had laid down alone, she had imagined she was back in her childhood home, swaying in the hammock with her mama, listening to the crickets chirp and the water lap against the shore of the river. Some nights she had imagined she were back in the bed of her honeymoon, those pale blue sheets hugging her and Joseph like a cocoon.
“I know I shoulda. I know it now, but I din’t know it then. I din’t even know where I was headed, Jez. How did I know I coulda kept you safer out there with me than you were here with him?”
“Suppose you didn’t,” Jezebel conceded. She picked at a loose tie in the quilt and cast her eyes to the ceiling. “I guess I just need to hear you say you aren’t going to do it ever again. I just need to know for sure that you won’t abandon me again. I almost didn’t make it this time. Lord knows I won’t make it if you do it again.”
This statement, this final admission, was enough to draw Joseph from the sanctuary behind his eyelids. He turned his head just a bit and stared at her over her shoulder. “What you mean you almost didn’t make it, Jezebel? What do you mean by that?”
She sighed, not wishing to admit her weakness to this man who she truly believed could move mountains. But in the eight months she hadn’t uttered a word to him, she had certainly thought of this conversation enough to know she couldn’t keep quiet. She focused intently on the loose knot in the quilt. The yarn was red and frayed at both ends. She brushed the soft fibers against the pad of her finger and said quietly,
“You left a couple of your straight razors in the bathroom. I used to sit there on the toilet seat staring at the sharp edges, just dreaming I could escape. After a couple weeks of that, I picked the razor up. I would twirl it in my fingers and think of how easily it could slip and take me away. You probably never hit desperation like I hit, Joseph. You probably think I’m a crazy for even thinking these things, let alone saying them to you now.”
At some point during her confession, Joseph had slid up in the bed and was now sitting with his back against the headboard. His back was hunched, rounded by the weight of his thoughts. “Jezebel,” he began testily.
“No, sir. Keep quiet. I am not done.” She paused to make sure she had his cooperation. When he didn’t say another word, or even breathe, for that matter, she continued. “It wasn’t long before he began knocking down the door, telling me I had no business taking so long in there. I’d come out, do his bidding, whatever it was, and then I’d go back in there to stare at the razors some more. These days I’m quite good at twirling them between my fingers. Sure, I get nicked every once in a while, but I keep plenty of Band-Aids. I don’t think I’ve cut myself once since he passed. Just one of the small mercies that’s come from it, I guess.”
Joseph shrugged. “And you got me back.”
This surprised Jezebel a little. She wasn’t sure to that point exactly what had brought him back. “Is that so? You heard he died and came rushing back here? You know he’s been in the ground five weeks now.”
“I know that,” he said quietly, sadly. Perhaps he felt he should’ve been back much sooner. “I was quite a ways away when I got the news. I couldn’t just jump on a plane then. I had to find my own way back.”
Being as this was the first indication Joseph had given regarding his whereabouts, Jezebel chose to tread very lightly. Or as lightly as she knew how. “Where were you?”
Joseph sighed and thought for some time. Without a word he reached out and stroked the back of Jezebel’s arm with his knuckles. “You know I love you, Miss Jezebel. You know nothin’ could change that.”
She didn’t look at him. “Where were you?” she repeated impatiently.
Another sigh. “I was in Californ’a.”
Jezebel’s heart stopped for a moment. No wonder he’d been so reluctant, so silent. She knew, as did every other person in town aged twelve or greater, that Donatella Montego—previously Debbi McDaniels of local beauty pageant fame—lived in Los Angeles, California. Everyone else also knew that back in high school, Joseph and Debbi had been inseparable. Jezebel worried she might be sick. But Joseph swooped in with a quick save.
“It ain’t what you think, Jez. I never even saw Debbi outside them newspapers they keep by the check out counter at the supermarket. Boy, is she makin’ a mess of the life God gave her. That ain’t why I went there. I just thought—” He paused and looked more childish and sheepish than Jezebel had ever seen him. Her heart resumed beating and melted like sugar in the rain. “I thought I could make a better life for us, is all. Inn’t that where the American Dream comes from, anyhow? The sandy shores of Californ’a?”
Jezebel was quiet a moment. “I can’t rightly say. My American Dream has always been right here beside you.” She turned to look at him over her right shoulder, and wasn’t surprised to see the look of warmth and bashfulness on his handsome face. She laid back until her head was resting against the crook of his shoulder. She watched his strong fingers come up and brush a wisp of her hair out of her face. He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead. She looked up at him at such an angle it was giving her a headache, but she ignored it. “So did you bring me anything?”
Joseph smiled and shook his head slowly. “I did get ya a necklace, but it din’t survive the trip back east. I had to barter it for a bus ticket somewheres in Texas. I’ll make it up to you, Jez. I do promise you that.”
While she was mildly saddened to learn of the necklace she’d never receive, Jezebel couldn’t deny having her husband back was worth it. “Well, that’s good. You can start by making me breakfast.” With another kiss on her forehead, Joseph extracted himself from the bed and made his way to the kitchen. Jezebel watched the movement of his buttocks with a warm smile on her face and a glow in her heart. She didn’t have to wait any longer.

dragons

-For Brenna

In the days before dragons were a dying breed, we thrived in our own communities in places like New Zealand and rural England, North Africa and Alaska; even Ireland and Scotland, where I was born. Back then, dragons were everywhere, lurking in shadows, living in mountain caves, some making their homes under water, so as to lessen the possibility of getting hunted. Everywhere we went, we were followed by humans, those infuriating bipeds.
Compared to humans, dragons are as docile as cotton balls. Compared to humans, dragons are sweet, patient, compassionate beings. Compared to humans, we dragons are gods. Dragons all understand this, that we are a wiser, more advanced species. We tried for thousands of years to be patient with Man, but despite our best efforts to remain civil, Man continued to hunt us for our horns, our teeth, our scales, our tears, and our blood. It was not uncommon for Man to kill a dragon merely to study its flying mechanism, to learn how such a massive creature could become airborne with such comparably small wings.
I am certain you have heard countless tales to the contrary. I am sure that you came into this with preconceived notions of dragons, the terror we instill in the hearts of men and animals alike. I have no doubt that you have harbored your own opinions about how despicable we dragons truly are. My only hope is that by the end of my tale, you will have a far greater understanding of my species, and how we came to be slandered so by the lying tongue of Man.
They tell you it is not easy being green. But I have it on very good authority it is not easy being yellow, red, orange, or blue, either. I can tell you firsthand it is not easy being opalescent lavender. Even among my species, I am an oddity. In a world where none of us belong, I belong least of all.
I was born of an extremely rare pink father and a run-of-the-mill indigo mother. They, like all dragons, had scales that did not shimmer or sparkle in the light. They had a matte finish, if you will. Since the genetics of our skin color are so unreliable, so unscientific, nobody had any pre-conceived notions of what I would come out looking like. But when my mother laid that strange white opal egg, everyone knew something was up. When I hatched, and my scales shimmered in the afternoon sun, I was met with mixed emotions. Some of the authorities wanted to kill me, said I was too conspicuous. But all the mothers, and many of the fathers, the children; nearly everyone else found me to be beautiful and spectacular. They wanted to keep me around to observe and to show off like a prize to the other clans. Nobody else had a shiny purple dragon.
Even for a dragon, my youth was not typical. From birth, my life was a series of show-and-tell incidents. It was not the fault of my mother or my father that the dragons we ran with were so easily fascinated by my obvious differences in appearance. It was not surprising that the clan wanted to discover if I had any other less-glaring oddities; any other special powers.
By my second month of life, it was evident that something about me or my appearance had a calming effect on everyone. The mere sight of me would cause a dragon’s heart to slow, his breathing to lessen. After the initial gawking, I heard from countless dragons how comfortable and at ease they felt in my presence. Surprisingly to me, even when I looked at my own reflection in a still lake or shimmering pond, I would feel a warmth and sense of security melt over me. It was a nice gift, if seemingly useless to me at the time.
By my second birthday I had learned so many things, and at such an accelerated rate, the other dragons in the clan were really beginning to understand what an oddity I was. I had taught myself to fly and to breathe fire after only one demonstration by my very patient father. I could scale mountains faster than any of the others in our clan. I could find a herd of sheep by scent in a rainstorm, when other dragons would easily be thrown off by the confusing presence of precipitation.
But strangest to everyone, myself included, I was the smallest grown dragon any of us had ever seen. Where my father was easily as tall as a pine tree, a good 30 feet high, and my mother was only five feet shorter than him, I stood at an alarming 10 feet tall. I was strong, though, and smart, and I already told of all my precocious accomplishments. I am sure that it was because of my excellent mind and dexterity no other dragons gave me any grief for my short stature. It was not the only peculiar thing about my adult form. Where my father and every other male dragon I had ever encountered bore two horns on his head, I had a sort of crown of horns; a semi-circle of six horns around the front of my head. I had been given the nickname King from my small circle of friends (or admirers, depending on who you asked). To my parents, however, I was called,
“Gaelan!” my mother sang out, making sure she could be heard over the roar of the river across which I was standing. “Can you lead the little ones back home? The council wants to hold a meeting.”
I nodded, not offering a comment on the gathering of the council. All they ever wanted to talk about were two things: any new-found abilities I may have discovered since the last meeting, and the ever-growing presence of human clans in proximity to our clan. I did not care to discuss either of these things. I found it much more beneficial to go out and practice my powers, and to view the humans firsthand from a high place, like a mountain cave or a particularly large tree. I could learn so much more from my observations than I could from sitting with the council discussing rumors. It made me sad to think the poor little ones were being exposed to this nonsense at such a young age. Alright, maybe I just had a problem with authority. Regardless, I did not plan to attend this council meeting.
I herded the little ones across the river, and shook off with them on the other side. They followed me, their short tails swinging freely behind their waddling rear ends. I wondered if my mother had signed me up to work with the babies and children because she was eager for me to have one of my own. If that had been her intention, she was on the right track. I found the small dragons to be terribly endearing and lovable. Sometimes, if I let my imagination get away with me, I would fantasize about a family of my own. But in reality I knew it was a distant dream: there were no females to match me in any of the clans. I out-stripped them in wit and strength and I was very easily bored by them. Not to mention, every female in my age group was already several feet taller than me. I would never admit it to anyone, but that always embarrassed me. So I chose to remain a bachelor.
When we had reached the small, secluded area we referred to as the commune, I dropped the little ones off with their parents and went to speak to my own mother.
“I am not staying to endure another one of these meetings,” I informed her without prelude. I think all that preamble is a human trait. We dragons say what needs to be said and are done with it. The idea of beating around the bush does not make sense to a creature that would sooner tear through the bush.
“What is your issue with the council, Gaelan?” She looked concerned, afraid of what the council would say when my absence was brought to light.
“I am tired of being in their limelight. If they ask after any new developments, tell them I have acquired an allergy to nonsense and time wasted.” I did not wait for her response, but turned-tail and mounted the sky.
After flying only a short distance, I saw a new structure being built on a nearby hilltop. A hilltop I had perched upon many times in the past, in order to take in the valley below, which was crawling with oblivious, stupid humans. I landed silently among the scaffolds and tools and realized that since it was before sun break, the humans would still be sleeping and brewing their morning stews and teas. No one would be working construction at this hour. I decided to have a look around.
Of course I did not know much about the architectural appeal humans found in the buildings they called houses, churches, and castles. I did not understand why they chose to sleep in these unstable shacks that could so easily crumble on top of them in an earthquake or even a strong wind. But I could tell from looking at the basic layout of this new structure that it was going to be an immense one. The stone was sturdy, taken and formed with great care. This was undoubtedly to be the home of a noble, and for dragons, that meant only one thing: Danger.
I abandoned my hope of watching the humans wake and stumble through a new day. I took a strong, sturdy leap and soared away from the valley, back to the commune in time to tell the council about what I had found.
My timing was not perfect. I swooped in just in time to hear Alpha berating my father for answers as to my whereabouts. He stopped short when I landed and without salutation, walked past him to the front of the group. “Everyone, the humans are building a castle not far from here. Our clan is no longer safe here. When the castle is finished, the first wave of hunters will come. We must not be in these hills at that time.”
Alpha stepped up to me and growled deep in his throat. “What are you talking about?”
“I was out scoping the humans and I saw they were constructing a castle. I know enough about this species to know they will hold a competition of strength and power for the hunters as soon as the nobles move in.” I began pacing, drawing every golden eye to me. “It happened to the clan at Orr. Once the castle was finished, the king there held a competition for the men to see who could slay the most dragons. The hunter who returned with the most horns was the victor. If the king of this new castle holds a similar competition, these hills will be crawling with men with arrow and sword. We will not be safe here much longer.”
I knew I had belittled Alpha and his authority by speaking directly to the clan, but I did not care. The families here were as valuable to me as my own mother and father. It was my right and duty to make sure they were informed. I had brought things to Alpha before, and I knew how selective he could be when given the opportunity to speak to the clan. I decided whatever his punishment for me was it would be worth potentially sparing the lives of every one I knew.
“Gaelan may be correct,” he conceded, speaking loudly to the now surprised group of dragons. “I will look further into this matter. But for now, there is no threat. The castle is not complete; the king has made no such decree. It may not occur at all,” he offered. But I could hear the doubt behind each of his words. I knew he thought we were in just as much danger as I did. He was coming dangerously close to letting the clan see his fear, and I knew if that happened, it would be a greater blow to his authority than the one I had already issued.
“Sir,” I whispered so only he could hear. “I would be happy to keep an eye on the progress of the castle. There is no reason for these dragons to fear, yet. Nor you.” He only nodded, and when he spoke again it was with far greater resolve.
“Gaelan will watch the humans as they build the castle. We will be sure to take action before any hunters are released to hunt in these hills. Have no fear,” he said with such conviction I almost believed him. I did not wait around for the rest of his speech, but took to the skies once again. If I was going to monitor the progress of the people, it was never too soon to start.
I lighted on the hillside again, and was pleased to find the construction site still void of any humans. I peered out into the village in the valley. New plumes of smoke were curling out of the chimneys and vents in the shacks. A few villagers were milling about, stretching at their doors, adjusting their blankets and furs. That is another thing about humans that made me embarrassed for their sake: they are embarrassingly vulnerable to the elements. Water can so easily drown them, mere cold can kill them. We dragons would be practically immortal in a world without humans. If it were not for their discovery and invention of weapons, dragons would have no natural enemy. We could live under water. We could live comfortably in sub-zero temperatures. If it were not for humans, it was hard to imagine a scenario in which a dragon could die.
I was shaking my head at the miserable little creatures below, when I heard a clattering noise at the site of the construction. I ducked behind the nearest boulder and kept my eyes sharp, looking for who or what had made the sound. After a few moments, I saw a figure emerge from behind the logs that made the scaffolds of the site.
I held my breath and hoped the human had not seen me. As mentioned, I was not the most conspicuous figure lurking about the mountains. I had one downfall the other dragons did not: I could not camouflage my scales to match my surroundings. I stood out in nearly every setting. I swallowed thickly, but silently, and kept my eyes on the creature.
The first thing I noticed was the lack of hatred I felt towards this particular human. I did not immediately despise it. I did not have any desire to breathe fire at it, or stomp on it, or tear it apart with my talons. (A quick aside: I must reiterate that we dragons are gentle compared to humans. We are. None of my clan would harm a human without cause. But that does not mean that we do not frequently entertain thoughts of the human’s demise. After all, they are our only enemies.)
After the first peculiar wave of complacency crashed over me, I realized with some alarm this was a female human I was seeing. I had only ever seen the females from a distance, but this one was no more than 40 feet away. She had hair the color of gold, and the way it caught the light made me wonder if it truly was strands of gold that adorned her head. Her skin was pale and soft-looking. Her eyes were enormous, for a human. They were the color of a field after rain: a deep, earthy green. I watched the way her gown moved over her legs. It was a simple muslin fabric, tan in color, tied loosely about the waist with a pale blue ribbon. But I was completely transfixed. This new kind of human possessed a grace and air of confidence I had seen in none of the male humans I had encountered. I still had not taken a breath when she spoke.
“I see you, monster,” she said flatly. Her voice was surprisingly brusque, given her slender frame and fair features.
I thought my heart might cease beating when she addressed me. I lowered myself nearer to the ground, as if doing so would make me less visible. But it was a silly notion, as she was already approaching, her emerald eyes fixed on mine.
“You do not intend to kill me, I trust?” she asked in the same disinterested tone. I managed to draw a breath, and assured her I had no such intentions. “What are you doing here?” she asked, coming closer now that she had decided I was safe. She did not stop walking until she was a mere five feet from me.
“Just watching,” I offered, nodding my head in the direction of the valley below. When I gave it some attention, I was surprise that this human had scaled the hill so early in the morning. She could not possibly be on the construction crew. I did not think they used females for hard labor.
“Trying to be invisible,” she noted. “I suppose I should apologize for ruining your plan.” She plucked a wildflower from the grass beneath our feet. She brought it to her nose and breathed in, keeping her eyes on the valley, and not me. This surprised me a bit. I was far too used to being stared at by humans and dragons alike.
“Only apologize if you are sorry,” I said simply, unable to remove my eyes from her. When she did not respond, I decided to ask her one of the million questions that was wrestling for a spot at the front of my mind. “Are you helping to build this castle?”
At this, the female laughed. She discarded the flower and turned to me. “Do I look so common as to be hauling rock and constructing a castle for a pompous, infuriating, fat king?” She had such malice in her voice, I wondered briefly if I should worry that she would turn on me. I supposed there could be female hunters as well.
“You do not look common at all. I have never seen a female human up close before,” I said honestly. The arches above her eyes rose and she extended one of her hands. I looked at it a moment before admitting, “I do not know what to do with that.”
She laughed again before dropping her hand to her side. “You are a funny monster,” she said. “I am happy to have found you here. I was sure I was going to have a wretched, awful day. But now I think my luck may have changed. I am Malevolence.”
“Is this really your name?” I asked, taken aback.
She narrowed her eyes at me before smiling. “Yes, I assure you it is. That fat, pompous king I mentioned earlier? He is not very bright. I think he just liked the way the word rolled off his tongue when he gave it to me for a name. I choose to go by Eve.” When I could not think of an appropriate response for the information she had just given me, she prompted me. “And you are?”
I bowed my head the slightest. “I am Gaelan.”
Her eyes danced. “Such a human name for such a beast.”
“Such a beastly name for a human,” I retorted, almost challenging the princess.
She gave me another narrow look before stepping even closer. She lowered her voice as a breeze swept across the hilltop, causing her skirt to billow out in front of her. She hugged herself with her long, slender arms. “I am always trying to be invisible myself, Gaelan.” She spoke softly, almost as if she were speaking to another human; a child or a lover. I felt confused by this human. I was once again struck with the realization that I could not formulate words appropriate. I sat in silence as she nudged me with her shoulder, and began to walk away.
A hundred things raced through my mind like a herd of frightened deer. I wanted to call out to her. I wanted her to come back, to tell me about the castle and her father and the hunt that may or may not happen. I feared I would miss my chance to acquire the information, when she turned at the crest of the hill.
“Gaelan,” she said again. It was as if she enjoyed the flavor of the name on her tongue. “Come tomorrow?”
“I will,” I promised. As she disappeared down the hillside, I finally began breathing normally. When I could see her no longer, I flew away from the mountain and back to the clan.

“Father!” I called, running through the front room. This place was so much smaller than our last one, but I knew that in a matter of weeks we would occupy a gorgeous castle on the hill. It was enough to tide me over on days when the proximity to the old man made me squirm with discomfort. “Father, you must wake up!” I arrived at his chamber door and began rapping on the post. “Oh, get out of bed you lazy man! I have something extraordinary to tell you!”
I pressed my ear to the door and listened to the mutterings and grunting of the old man as he pulled himself from his bed. I could hear him putting on his slippers and his robe, and he snorted loudly before pulling open the chamber door. “You thorn,” he said loudly, after glaring at me through puffy, slit eyes. “Come in and get it done with.” He returned to his bed and sat heavily upon it. He folded his hands over his leg, and listened to me with his eyes closed.
“Father, I was up at the site this morning, only moments ago. I saw the most extraordinary thing!”
“Were the men working already? That would be a sight, would it not?” He groaned at his own witty comment, and scratched at the scruffy white stubble coming in on his chin and neck.
“No,” I said, frustrated. “It was a beast. A dragon, I think. But so small. He could not have been more than a dozen feet tall. And so beautiful! He had scales the color of heather, and eyes like diamonds. And not just two horns, but six!”
At the last comment, my father opened one eye. “Six? My, my. He will be quite a catch for one of the hunters in my competition. Imagine, the horns of three dragons all on one little one.”
My mouth fell open against my will. Not that the old man would notice. He kept his silly eyes sealed like that for a good hour upon waking, as if the sun could not infiltrate his pupils until he gave it permission. “Father, I am trying to tell you, you must not have the hunt. I will not allow it.”
He scoffed, as I knew he would. “‘Will not allow it?’ Who do you think it is running my kingdom, young lady?” His eyes were open now, his bushy white eyebrows drawn together over them. He shook his head in mock disbelief before closing them again. “You be careful the commands you throw at me in mixed company. It is one thing for you to imagine you have any authority in the confines of our home, but never in front of my magistrates.”
I felt a bit chagrined. It was a minor slap on the wrist, though. I would not give up so easily. “Father, that beast has a spirit, a personality. It has done nothing to harm us. It would be wrong to hunt it for sport. I know I am not the most moral creature—” a sharp glance from my father—“but my heart goes out to this beast. I will not see it killed for your enjoyment.”
The king was silent a while, and I knew the moment he spoke he was not taking me seriously. “Very well. Invite it for tea while I send out the hunters. That shall keep it safe, no doubt.” He began laughing, which led to coughing, which led to him waving his pudgy hand in an invitation for me to leave his company. I could not be more grateful for the excuse, I thought as I closed the door sharply behind me, wishing all the while he would just choke to death.
After leaving him, I spent the day wandering the village, getting to know the people on a level my father never would. I helped a mother feed and bathe her small, colicky child who refused to eat. I fed the livestock for an ancient farmer with crumpled, arthritic hands. As the sun was setting over the valley and the people who lived there, I could hear the clink and rattle of hammers and chains being dropped at the end of a hard day’s work. I looked up at the hillside I would soon call home, and I decided when I lived there, I would play music every evening for the people of the village. I would play my harp and my lyre and I might even sing them to sleep, if the night was right for it. When I went home and prepared for bed, I could not shake the beautiful music from my mind. As I dreamed, I remembered the meeting I was to have with my new friend the following morning, and somehow I knew he would be equally fond of my idea.

Dragons can go days without sleeping, so it is not much to say I did not sleep that night. I was replaying my encounter with the human female over and over, analyzing and dwelling on every word and every movement she had made. I flew over to the construction site before anyone else had arisen. I crouched behind the boulder and tried to sink lower on my haunches. I did not want to run the risk of any aspiring hunters discovering me before the female had a chance.
I must have drifted to sleep, because I was awoken not much later to a gentle stroking on the tip of my snout. I opened my eyes quickly, despite wanting to stay asleep to enjoy the sensations of such a gentle touch. Eve did not startle, but subtly removed her hand from my face, and offered me a good morning.
“Hello,” I said softly, marveling at this female’s bravery. Not even the strongest, most confident men would risk standing mere inches from the face of a sleeping dragon. I considered, not for the first time, what an anomaly this woman was.
“I trust you did not spend the night on this hill?” she asked softly in that low, rich voice.
“I spent it with my clan. I did not sleep.”
She sighed and looked out at the valley. “I did not sleep much myself. I had thoughts that would not leave me, despite my greatest efforts to shake them.” She fell silent and kept her eyes on the sleeping hamlet below.
“What of?” I asked after a short time. I could tell the question roused her. She turned and brought her eyes to mine. My breath caught again. I had never seen such a color in any eyes before, human or dragon.
“An idea came to me last night, as I listened to the clink and ring of the hammers being dropped by the workers.” She did not elucidate, but changed the course of the conversation rather suddenly. “Do you sing, Gaelan?”
Caught mildly off guard, I hastily admitted that yes, I did sing. I told her I had quite a magnificent tenor singing voice, and would be happy to show her. I felt immediately silly for admitting so much to such a simple, little question.
Eve’s eyes danced. She smiled and I envied the expression. If I tried to imitate such an expression, it only ever appeared as a grimace; frightening and the opposite of happy. I asked her what she was smiling about. She shrugged her shoulder and found a seat on another, smaller stone. She looked up at me with eyes admiring. “I want to make music for the people of the village. Not now, but when the castle is complete. Last night as the sun was setting, and I heard the gentle clink of the tools, I thought of how beautiful it would be to hear the sweet refrain of music lilting through these hills. I imagine it would warm the hearts of all those who could hear it.”
“You speak like a poet,” I blurted before I even really heard the meaning of her words. I felt silly and fumbling in her presence, two sensations I was remarkably unfamiliar with when I was in the company of my fellow dragons. But I could tell my words had an effect on Eve. Her cheeks turned a pink color that absolutely perplexed me. Aside from spending too much time in the sun, I was uneducated as to why a human’s skin would tint pink, and for only a moment.
“I would like to be. I love to create. It is why I so long to make music for these people.” She swept her hand to indicate the village before folding it in her lap. When she looked up at me again, her eyes were shining. “My father will not allow me to write. He is the one man who has the power to get around the laws of publication, and he refuses. It is a subject that pains me to discuss. But I blossom when I think of giving the gift of music to these people. If you join me, I am sure it will be like the moon kissing a cereus.”
As I heard to her speak, I decided I could listen to her voice for eternity, if she would allow me. I was struck with the sensation that this human could ask me to do anything, and no matter what it was, I would consent. “I would be honored to make music with you. There is only one thing I must ask of you in return.”
“What is it?”
“I am very concerned for the members of my clan. If we must relocate, I understand, but I will need to know soon, so that I may tell the council. It is no easy task to find a secluded area large enough to accommodate a herd of dragons.”
“How could you know of the hunt my father plans to host?” Even as she asked the question, she looked concerned. The arches above her eyes furrowed, and she bit her lip. “He has yet to make a formal announcement, but I know it is coming. This time yesterday I was trying to convince him to discard this horrid idea, but I am very concerned he will move forth with it.”
“The king in Orr issued a hunt. My kind was slaughtered in shocking numbers. The moment I saw the castle being built, I knew it was imperative to be on alert.” I shifted uncomfortably on my large, clawed feet. “But you say your father is decided in this?”
She nodded solemnly. “I am afraid so. He does not listen to a word I say. The things he hears, he does not take heed of. Will you be able to find a place to relocate? At least for the duration of the hunt?”
I shrugged as best I could. “I am certain the council will come to a decision. How long do we have before the castle is complete and the call for the hunt is issued?”
“They anticipate the construction will be finished in a week. The men are working at an alarming pace, no doubt under some horrible threat by my pig-headed father.”
“I will tell the council. We will seek a refuge immediately.”
“Must you go?” she asked, her eyes looking concerned.
I shifted my weight. In any other circumstance, I would have immediately left to tell the clan. I put their safety above all else. But I was so intoxicated by this individual; I did not want to leave her side. She said we had a week. Certainly a matter of hours would not mean life or death for the clan. I assured her I could stay. She looked relieved as she bent to pick up another wildflower. She began humming as she plucked at the petals. I had never seen something so delicate become so beautifully destructive.
“Will you rule this kingdom when your father dies?” I asked softly, trying to imagine her with a crown on her head and robes of violet and red.
She scoffed. “Yes, that is the usual way of things. But I have come to believe my father will never die. Sometimes, late at night, it is all I wish for. When I see the first star alight in heaven, I fold my hands in vain, praying that he will not wake the next morning.”
This alarmed me. I had had disagreements and misunderstandings with my own parents, but never had I wished death on them. Not even in the rough patch of my puberty. Either she was just a violent young human, or she had just cause to despise her father so. Being true to my dragon nature, I did not hesitate to call her on it.
“Does he hit you? Abuse you? Force you to do things without your consent?” I asked it as softly and with as much patience and understanding as I could. But I could still witness the way the words stung. I knew I did not need her to speak her response, but she spoke it nonetheless.
Her eyes watered a little as she looked out over the village, still blanketed in the shadow of the surrounding mountains. “For a long time, yes. I have learned through my own experience when to speak, when to stay silent. When to stand near and when to keep my distance. And I have since grown strong enough to withstand his attempts. I know how to defend myself.”
“You should not have to defend yourself in the company of your family.”
“What family?” she snorted again. “My mother died when I was a child, and my father sent both my brothers into unwinnable battles. I shudder to think what my fate would be had I been born a male.”
“I shudder to think of the way he mistreats you, Eve.”
She felt the gravity of my words, and turned to evaluate me. I watched her eyes as they smoothed over the curve of my back, the protrusion of my wings, the movement of my chest when I breathed. She looked so serene, but curious. I asked her to tell me what she was thinking.
“May I touch you?” she asked after only a moment of hesitation.
I nodded my approval, and she stepped nearer. She did not touch my face, but stepped into the curve of my neck, where she placed her outstretched hand against my scales. Her hand was so warm, like a small flame licking against me. She stroked down my neck, over my shoulder, and along the side of my body. It made me twitch a bit when she touched my stomach.
“You are ticklish?” she asked, laughter in her voice.
“So it appears. I do not think I have ever been tickled before,” I replied, not bothering to hide the amusement in my own voice.
“It is amazing how smooth you are. I imagined scales would feel rough. But you are soft. Like a serpent, I suppose. I hope that does not offend.”
Still amused, I replied, “I am not offended to be compared to a serpent. Some members of my clan are snakes.” I appreciated the way she laughed at my joke.
“I also imagined you would be more somber. Are all dragons so humorous?” She took a seat on the boulder nearby and looked up at me.
I kept my eyes on her as I spoke. “I am not like most dragons. In fact, I am quite different than all the dragons I know.” I proceeded to tell her about my differences in size, appearance, performance. I was reluctant to do so, but I also mentioned the strange power I had over the emotions of others. She did not seem manipulated by this inexplicable power, for which I was grateful.
“You are quite fantastic, Gaelan,” she said softly, when I had finished my Intro to Gaelan speech. I saw her eyes dance and felt my heart flutter. Could I be finding in this human what I had never been able to find in others of my kind?
“Tell me what sets you apart from the other humans. For I know you are not like them. You are different. Enlighten me.” I laid lower, trying to get as close to her eye level as possible.
Eve ho-hummed a bit, as if speaking of her own qualities was something she was not accustomed to doing. But after a few moments, she began to tell me about her life.

“Most people—humans, anyway—think the life of a princess is a glamorous thing. I suppose it should be. It is rumored to be a life of wealth and freedom and getting precisely what you want. My life was nothing like that. I suppose that does not set me apart from other humans so much as make me just like them.” I toyed with the flower stem in my hands, trying not to meet his eyes. The way they reflected light like diamonds took my breath away and made it difficult for me to speak of anything of consequence. I hoped he did not think I was avoiding his eyes for any other purpose. I continued,
“As I mentioned, my mother passed away when I was very young. I do not remember much of her life, but I do know that while she was on this earth, things were light and carefree. My father was a delightful person. And when she left this earth, things for me became dark and miserable.” I did not wish to drag him down with the negative details of my childhood, but there were some instances I felt it imperative to tell him. I cleared my throat and proceeded.
“My father became a terrible man after her death. He was mean and spiteful and negative. When I was nine years old, my father became a new kind of ogre I did not recognize. He would come in the night, not bothering to knock on the post before violating my chamber as well as my body.” I swallowed thickly, trying not to revert to those horrible nights. I stood and walked towards my dragon companion. I leaned against him and enjoyed the cool sensation of his scales on my skin. I remembered what he had said about making those near him feel comfortable. There was no denying this power, I thought as I felt the peace wash through me.
“It was such a dark time. But that is when my mother began coming to me. She would appear and tell me the things I needed to do to keep my father at bay. She would tell me the things I should or should not tell my brothers. She coached me on how to protect myself. I am certain without her help in those days, I would not have survived. It was so emotionally hard back then. And then when he sent my brothers away…”
Gaelan shifted, so he could look at me as I spoke. He was curled around me now, like a giant kitten with a ball of yarn, only I was not threatened by his sharp teeth or his claws, and he was a very different kind of soft. His chest cavity rumbled when he spoke.
“It sounds as though your youth was unbelievably difficult. I am so sorry to hear that there are humans who behave this way. I feel inclined to admit I would have happily defended you when you were unable, but it sounds as if you have conquered that particular beast. You have a confidence about you now that says he is no longer at liberty to have his way with you.”
“I cannot express my gratitude for your kind words, Gaelan. They are precisely the thing I need to hear when I think of the injustices that befell me in the past. I do thank you.”
I considered how perceptive of a dragon this was. I was almost certain dragons did not face the complex issues of humanity, especially when I was sharing the company of this dragon. He seemed so docile, so tame. I wondered where the horrible stories I had always heard about dragons had originated. It would have to wait for another day, I noted as I saw the sun breaking over the mountain, casting its light on the valley.
“The men will be coming to work very shortly,” I said with concern. I was not ready to part ways with him, but it seemed I did not have a choice. I could only imagine the way the men of the village would respond to a six-horned, diamond-eyed beauty like Gaelan. “You should probably take leave of this place.”
He nodded his large head and stood to his full height. He was beautiful, I thought for the hundredth time as I watched him stretch his legs and his wings.
“May we meet again tomorrow?” I implored, thinking of an excuse to see him again. As it was, I did not need one.
“Of course. I will come whenever you request my company. I shall see you here before dawn.” He nodded his head, as if to affirm our plans, and then he jumped to the sky. I watched in awe as his wings stretched and moved, beating the sky and carrying him away from me.

When I returned to the clan that morning, and shared with them the news of the impending hunt, it was the closest I had seen to mayhem in my life. It was not typical of dragons to be melodramatic, but there were some young mothers among the clan who actually swooned and screamed with alarm. I swallowed thickly my discomfort and tried to explain to the elders that there was always a solution.
“There are many hills nearby. It would not be difficult to hold a migration. I know these little ones; they will be able to fly the short distances between these near peaks until we reach the distant peaks. I am confident that this is a viable solution.”
There was an upheaval of agreement, met by equal uproarious discontent. Some of the mothers did not have faith in their offspring to make the journey. Some of the elders had doubts about their own migration abilities. The capable-bodied were eager to set off, saying it was not too soon to get out of our commune and eliminate the possibility of being caught by hunters who might come to prematurely scope out the landscape. I did not have much time, but I managed to block out the voices and roars of the feuding clan long enough to formulate a plan.
“I will go scope out landscapes. I will look for other clans that might be willing to host us for a few days. I will go out in a spiral, to all the nearest peaks before moving to those more distant.”
The council only had to counsel a moment before deciding to let me take on the task. They knew that I flew faster and had a sharper eye than any other in the clan. They also knew I was keeping a close watch on the castle. The thing they did not know was that I had a blossoming relationship with a human, and without her we would all be dragon meat before we knew what had hit us. I did not want to bring Eve to light, yet. I wanted to horde her like the secret, delicate morsel she was. So as I bid adieu to my parents and the children, I did my best to remain true to myself and cover my secret.
“I will see you in two days’ time,” I assured my mother, whose eyes began to tear. It was a trait only female dragons possessed, this ability to cry. It was the trade-off for having no horns, because the tears of a dragon were infinitely more valuable to humans than the horns. “It is a safe journey, mother. It is not necessary for you to worry so.”
She nodded, swallowing her emotion as best she could. “I know, Gaelan, I think I might be more worried for those of us left behind, wondering. Just hurry back to us with news.”
My father agreed with her. “The council can only do so much, son. It is because of you we have the information we do. We are all in the dark until your return.”
I accepted their pressured words and assured them that if there were any unexpected changes to the progress of the castle, or any nearby clans who could take us right away, I would inform them with haste. Then, I set off. I knew with a surety that the nearest clan was to the north, in the same direction as the castle. It would not be wise to request sanctuary of a clan who might very well be at the same risk as us. I circled around, instead, to the east. I knew of a clan that direction, and though I had heard they were reaching capacity for the glen which they inhabited, I decided it was worth a try to check.
After a good half hour in the air, I spotted the clan and swooped down to speak to their leaders. I knew when I found it difficult to find a place to land without getting too close to others, that I would not have success. I had to land in a nearby stream, and was still dripping wet when I found the leader of the clan. I introduced myself, and he introduced himself as Adolf. I tried not to show my discomfort at all the dragons who were staring at me so openly, and I told Adolf of the plight of my clan.
“As you can see, young one,” Adolf said, confusing my small stature for a representation of my age. “We are well beyond capacity here. We are, in fact, getting ready to send a party to find a new place to colonize. Some of the younger families will have to migrate their young ones up to two hundred miles away. We are in a crisis all our own. I am sorry we cannot help you in your time of need.”
I graciously accepted his apology, and advised him to keep an eye out for any kingdoms coming up in their vicinity. He thanked me for the tip, and nothing more was said before I took off again, in search of the next commune. The next leg of my trip took well over an hour, as I had to circle around to the south, keeping my eyes on the landscape, looking for any red or yellow dragons that would stand out against the earth. Fortunately for me, the defense mechanism of color-changing was rarely used by dragons who did not feel threatened. I spotted a small group of dragons in a raised, but browning meadow, and swooped down to have a word with them.
When I landed, I was mildly surprised to discover there were only eight dragons, and that they were all adults. There did not seem to be an alpha dragon among them, so I addressed the lot of them at once.
“My name is Gaelan, and I have come here to entreat of you, have you room or provisions here for a clan of sixty?” For a moment, they only stared, naturally enamored—or perhaps horrified—by my bizarre appearance. “There is danger near my clan, and we are looking for a place to relocate, if only for a few days. No more than two weeks.”
The dragons cast their eyes about at one another, unsure of who would break the bad news to me. Finally, the largest among them, a cobalt blue male, stepped forward. “I am sorry for your situation, friend Gaelan, but we are wanderers, and cannot guarantee the safety of this place any more than that from which you are fleeing. Even if you chose to bring your clan to this place, it is unlikely that the provisions will last long enough to sustain a group of that size, even for such a short time.” He seemed genuinely apologetic for the situation. I took a deep breath and prepared to mount the sky again when he continued.
“Though we are unable to assist you, I know of an old clan to the west. They have managed to stay concealed in the hills there for hundreds of years. I cannot promise you anything, but it would be worth your time to speak to the elder there. His name is Amethyst. I believe you will find you have something in common with him. Go in safety, Gaelan.”
Naturally, I assumed the dragon he spoke of would have scales the color of the precious stone, amethyst. I admit I was feeling a bit excited to find this dragon when I set out. I had to fly a great way to the west, but when I came to the ragged mountain range covered in low clouds, I felt I was in the right place. It was terrain that humans rarely chose to inhabit. It was becoming less of a mystery as to how Amethyst and his clan had been able to stay in one place for so long.
I landed and immediately began looking out for the purple dragon. The clan seemed to go on forever, but unlike Adolf’s cluttered group of dragons, these seemed few and far between, walking and scaling mountains as they were in all directions. I tried to imagine my clan here, and though it was difficult to see the little ones in such harsh climate, it was easier than imagining them being attacked by ruthless hunters. I began walking, not bothering to ask any of the locals where their leader was. I was confident I would know him when I saw him.
After fifteen minutes of searching, I decided to put aside my prideful notion and ask someone to enlighten me. I found a couple of dragons drinking from a rushing stream, and asked where I could find Amethyst.
One of them looked amused, the other irritated. Thankfully, the amused one spoke. “Young one, you just walked past him. He is that small figure, just there. You see him, behind the grove of pines?” She indicated with her tail to a spot over my shoulder. I turned and sure enough, spotted the dragon of which she spoke. I was disappointed to discover he was not purple, but a green so dark it was almost black. With confusion lacing my words, I thanked her and crossed the distance to Amethyst.
When he lifted his head at my approach, and saw the color and size of me, his eyes went wide. I could be sure I was wearing a matching expression when I saw his eyes were the same diamond color as my own. He was only two feet taller than me. I wondered what else I might have in common with the ancient dragon.
“Sir,” I began, bowing low to show my respect. “I have traveled a great distance. My clan is in danger and I seek your help.” The old dragon did not seem to listen to a word I spoke. His eyes were still wide, still unmoving from my face and form. “Sir?”
He cleared his throat and started a little. I wondered if he was suffering from dementia or senility. He had to be a hundred years old. “I do apologize,” he croaked. “You remind me of someone I once knew.”
Momentarily thrown off the scent of my initial purpose for coming to this place, I asked the old dragon who it was. Never in my life had I spurred memories of other dragons. I was one of a kind, a prototype. Or so I thought.
“My father,” the old dragon said feebly before leading me to a cave and inviting me inside. He lit a pile of kindling with one well-placed breath, and lay heavily on his side. His head rolled a bit, but he righted it and looked up at me through his matching diamond eyes. I tried to make myself comfortable and set in to listen to his tale.
“I am called Amethyst, as you already know. It is not for the color of my scales, but the color of my father’s. He was a rare dragon indeed. When I say you remind me of him, I mean the resemblance is startling. He was your size, if not smaller. His eyes, like mine and yours, looked as if they had been cut from diamonds. He was darker, and did not reflect the sunlight the same way that you do, but the purple of your scales is unmistakable.” He paused a moment before a realization struck him. “Have you discovered any special powers or abilities?”
Not accustomed to bragging about my own accomplishments, I hesitated before admitting to him that yes, I did have some abilities that other dragons did not seem to possess. With each new endowment that I presented, Amethyst’s expression brightened a little. When I told him I had mentioned everything, he looked a little surprised. Then,
“So you have not yet discovered the Changing?” he asked in a voice so airy and hollow and awe-stricken, I felt my blood chill a little. The ancient dragon must have read my reaction, because he let out a low laugh. “Oh, I am honored to be the one to tell you of this rare, spectacular ability. Please allow me to share a small morsel of my accumulated wisdom with you, young one. I believe you will find this information most valuable.”
It was hours before Amethyst had finished his tale. We had paused in our discussion only long enough to seek out provisions for supper, and had brought back three sheep and two cows on which to dine. He continued to speak as we ate, filling my head with images and promises and stories so wonderful and surprising, I felt like a child again. When he eventually spoke his final word, I had difficulty closing my jaw. It seemed to be hinged open in blatant surprise.
“You cannot wait to give it a try, I see,” the old dragon said with a wheezing laughter in his voice. “I say get on with it; you have quite a journey ahead.”
Unsure of how to respond to my newly-acquired information, I sat stunned and silent for a time. Amethyst hardly seemed to notice as he began using his tail to loosen any bone or meat that had been wedged between his cracked, yellowed teeth. I was so alarmed and amused by his tale, my thinking so muddled, I told him I had to go. I barely heard his well wishes and advice to use my knowledge wisely. I thanked him a thousand times before taking to the sky.
It was early evening, the stars were beginning to poke through the velvety indigo sky, offering pricks of light to guide my way back to my clan. But as I flew I began to get the strangest sense that I was going the wrong direction. Either I had been too distracted by my thoughts of Amethyst’s words, or I had become disoriented by some other force. Perhaps it was fatigue, given that I had not slept a wink the night previous. I tried to regain my bearings, but could not seem to get a sense of direction about me. I decided that rather than fly about aimlessly, wasting my own energy and causing my mind and heart to race with this new bewilderment, I would land for the night and try to regain my bearings at daybreak.
My night passed quickly, and I slept deeply, dreaming of what Amethyst’s revelation meant for my future, and the future of my clan. I awoke with a start when I remembered that my meeting with Amethyst had produced nothing of the results I had gone in search of. My stomach knotted with the realization that I had to return to the clan empty-handed. I had no olive branch to offer them. So I did something the humans referred to as cowering. I flew not back to the commune of my fellow dragons, but flew directly to the hillside where I had met Eve the previous two days.
When I landed on the lookout, I was surprised to find Eve already there. She was pacing back and forth and speaking quickly to no one but herself. I wondered if I should let her continue her personal monologue or if I should interrupt. I chose to make my presence known. It was my experience that eavesdropping rarely provided good results.
“Eve?”
She whirled around and a blanket of relief fell over her lovely face. “Oh, Gaelan. Thank you for coming. I have something terrible to tell you.”
I glanced around at the deserted castle project. It was really coming along. It would not be long before the structure would be suitable for Eve and her father to make it their residence. “What is it?”
“He is beginning the hunt early! He is issuing the call for hunters this morning and they will begin on the morrow, at day break!” she shouted, getting frantic again.
It was her words that brought to mind the horrible realization that I had failed to ask Amethyst if it would be possible to move my clan to his commune. Even if he had granted me permission, one day was not enough time. The young and the old alike would take two days to make the journey I had completed in hours. I felt my heart ache within my chest when I realized I did not have a solution to the problem before me.
“What are we going to do?” Eve finally asked, deflated and disheartened. I looked down into her earthy eyes and felt lightning strike my brain. The idea exhilarated me and I had to fight the urge to perform a back-flip in celebration. I took a deep, stabilizing breath and asked,
“Eve, do you love me?”
Her mouth fell open for a brief instant before she snapped it shut and cast her eyes around at anything but my imposing form. She did not appear to be angry or offended by my question, but I could tell she was searching for an appropriate answer. She began breathing quickly, and I stepped closer to her, hoping to wrap myself about her like a snug, well-meaning blanket. I watched as the peace and ease draped over her shoulders and waited for her response.
When she looked up at me, the arches above her eyes were drawn together. She did not look upset, but concerned. “Yes, Gaelan. I believe I do. Is that wrong?”
Not for the first time, I wished I could smile at my princess. “No, Eve, it is not wrong. But now that I know you love me, I have a favor to ask you.”
She rolled her eyes, but I was put at ease when her smile broke out. “Alright, what is it?”
I took a deep breath and asked, “Will you join me? As a dragon?” Her eyes darted back and forth between my own, looking for something. Jest or malice, perhaps. She looked so confused and so adorable in that instant. “Eve, I love you and want nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity by your side. How I know this, I do not know. But I feel it more surely than I have felt anything in all my life. You know the sensation of peace and comfort you feel when looking upon me? I feel that, intensified by thousands, when I look upon you.”
For some time, she did not say a word. Her eyes filled with crystal tears and I watched in confusion as they rolled silently down her cheeks. She cast her eyes out on the valley, and back at me. She looked back at the castle, and bit at her lips. She was experiencing a great deal of confusion as to how to answer my request, but in my heart I knew she would make the right decision.
She slowly wiped the tears from her face and looked up at me. “No one and no thing have ever made me feel the way that you make me feel, Gaelan. And I do not just mean the sense of peacefulness. You make me feel secure and beautiful. It would be an honor to stay by your side forever. But how?”
I took a deep breath and focused my mind on the task before me. Amethyst’s instructions were fresh in my mind. I advised Eve to stand in front of one of the boulders that blocked out the view of the valley. I wanted neither human nor dragon to discover what I was capable of. With one last hopeful glance at the glorious human female I closed my eyes and whispered the mantra Amethyst had taught me. With every effort to remain confident in my ability, I blew out a great stream of flames from my nostrils. I heard Eve’s scream before everything fell dark.

It is a frightening thing to stand face-to-face with a fire-breathing dragon. Even one you know to be docile and kind. Knowing that he is capable of forcing forge-like flames from his nostrils instills within you a sense of vulnerability. As I looked up into Gaelan’s diamond eyes falling closed, I had a brief vision of myself being roasted on a spit—my hair burnt and reeking, my eyes sockets empty but for a black powder that used to be my sparkling eyes, so full of life.
I am certain it is this vision that brought the scream from my lips at the very last instant. But how silly of me. The flame that protruded from the looming face before me did not bear the heat of the kiln. It was not fire at all. When I breathed in to scream, I breathed in the sweet smell of wildflowers, the scent of moonlight on lilies. I breathed in goodness and rejuvenation. I breathed in unconditional love. And in my next breath, I felt it transform me.
My chest filled with this strange magic, I felt it swell to inhuman size, like a great barrel. The rest of my body followed, my legs moving in their sockets so they would protrude on either side of my hips. I felt my skin harden and change into a continuous sheet of scales covering my muscular, morphing form. My face changed last, my eyes growing father apart and father from the ground. My sight—which I had never considered to be lacking—significantly improved. It was as if I could see things ten miles away. Rather, it was as if I could sense things I couldn’t see before. I felt infinitely wiser and more self-aware. When I was certain the change from human to dragon was complete, I felt a surge at my shoulders, and heard a great tearing sound as my scales split to make way for my wings to come in. It knocked the wind from me, and for a moment they just stretched and beat at their own accord, like a Monarch fresh from the comfort of its cocoon. After a few beats, I tried to focus on the muscles responsible for my new aviary accoutrements. It took all my concentration, but I was able to isolate a new system just beneath my scapulae. I flexed and pressed and strained, and finally got the wings to flap just once. Then I gave up and was about to lie down with the exhaustion of the effort, when I remembered Gaelan.
After expelling his great gust of magical fire, he had crumpled to the earth. I had been far too preoccupied to worry then, but now that the drama of the transformation had passed, I rushed to his side. As I moved alongside him, I was surprised to find we were nearly the same size. I nudged him with my snout, gently, in the side. It did not rouse him. I prodded him softly with one talon finger. Still nothing. I was beginning to grow anxious, when loudly and clearly I heard the voice of my mother: “Breathe his name and he will wake.”
Mildly surprised by the clarity of her voice in such a strange situation, I heeded her words. I lowered my great head to the small curve of Gaelan’s ear. Had I lips, they would have brushed the smooth surface of his scales. I closed my eyes and as a lover, spoke the name that had danced through my mind for days.
Gaelan groaned and roused. He blinked several times, his eyes cast to the dirt beneath him. Then it was as if he remembered where he was and what he had just accomplished. He stood quickly and turned to face me. I saw his diamond eyes go wide and wondered if he could still tell I was blushing.

The instant I laid eyes on Eve in her new form, I knew I would never doubt my decision to change her. My heart swelled in my chest and I would not have been surprised if she had heard it pounding. If she had been captivating and beautiful in human form, it was nothing to the phenomenon that stood before me.
I noticed everything at once, which made the moment so fantastic for me. I shall recount the things I saw from top to bottom, for organization’s sake. Her eyes were still a brilliant reflection of a rain-soaked meadow in late spring. They glimmered and shone in the morning sun, refracting the light and making it even more beautiful than it had ever before been. Her scales were the most alarming thing about her. All that glorious golden hair had translated into the color of her hide. She looked like one of the golden statues the jousters and swordsmen won in competition. She was even rarer than I. It made my eyes water, as I was so overwhelmed by how fantastic it was. And as if her overt beauty were not pleasing enough, she was at least a foot smaller in stature than I. I wondered if my heart could handle the adoration and excitement or if it would simply give up trying and cease to beat within me.
“You are incredible,” I breathed, fighting the urge to circle her and eye her up and down. She bowed her head slightly as if to say thank you. I moved closer and whispered, “I have waited all my life for you.”
At this, she brought her eyes to mine and watched as she began to cry. I could not tell at first if they were tears born of sorrow or joy, for I knew both were possible. After a moment, and upon closer inspection of her flawless facial features, I realized she was upset.
“Eve, what is wrong?” I moved closer, wrapping myself around her as much as I could. I waited for her tears to subside so she could answer, but no words came.
When I realized she had been stricken dumb in the course of the transformation, I began to panic. What had I done? Eve was a poet and a musician. Without a voice she would be without her gifts. It was no wonder why she cried so. I began to pace, racking my mind for a solution. I considered going back to Amethyst, but Eve could never make the journey, having only just acquired the gift of flight. I doubted if she could even make it back to my clan. I was about to become frantic when Amethyst’s voice snaked through my memory. “Kiss her…”
You may wonder how dragons kiss, given that we have no lips with which to do so. But the kiss began as an exchange of breath, and true to the origins of the gesture, I leaned down and placed my mouth near Eve’s. I closed my eyes and hoped hers followed suit. I took a deep breath, and expelled it into her mouth. I listened closely as she breathed in my soul. When the kiss was finished, I slowly opened my eyes and found myself staring into the flawless emerald eyes of my lover. I felt my heart quicken as I awaited the sound of her voice.
“What do you think?” she asked shyly. I was not surprised to discover her voice sounded the way it had since our first meeting: deep and smooth and rich. I loved it. I loved every single thing about her. I told her such.
She preened under my praises, and I kissed her again for good measure. “We have to leave this place,” she said suddenly, looking up at me with those great, emerald eyes. I gave myself over to her for the hundredth time.
“Has the call gone out for the hunt, then?” I asked, the panic not yet reaching my voice. She shifted her weight from one talon foot to the other. She looked at the ground, putting off telling me her bad news: a human trait. Then she nodded her head.
“I doubt it if you can fly a foot,” I said sadly, looking dubiously at her new wings.
“At least allow me the chance to try,” she argued, stubborn and sweet as can be.
I demonstrated for her the proper way to mount the sky. I flew a small circle around the opposite side of the mountain, not wishing to attract the attention of the hunters who were gearing up in the valley. After a few expert beats of my wings, I landed gracefully before her. “Can you do that?”
She swallowed and nodded. “I believe so.” She stretched her wings out to her sides and pumped them up and down a few times before taking a deep breath and pushing off of the hillside with all the strength of her haunches. I watched with my mouth agape as she coasted out and over the vacant valley on the back side of the mountain. The wind moved steadily and naturally over her beautiful golden wings and scales, propelling her like a master of flight. I could see how utterly happy and at peace she was, and without waiting for her to land again, I took to the sky along side her. Together we pressed through the crisp, clear air back to our clan.

I could hear the murmurs of alarm and fascination long before we landed among Gaelan’s friends and family. I attributed this acute sense of hearing to my new form, and wondered briefly if it was a good thing. I distinctly made out a small voice musing, “Look, Mommy! She’s barely bigger than me!” and the small dragon’s excited laughter. I cast a concerned eye at Gaelan, but he did not seem to sense my discomfort. He looked adoringly at me, and flew a little closer alongside me. We came around the last swell of hill and my eyes fell on the vast expanse of a dragon clan.
“Home, sweet home,” Gaelan breathed beside me, hardly doing anything to assuage my concerns about meeting a few dozen dragons.
We landed among the throngs of curious creatures, and I must admit I was staring as unabashedly at them as they were at me. The children excluded, nearly every beast was larger in stature than Gaelan or me. I was not so used to being towered over, especially by animals I had once assumed would sooner devour me than have a polite conversation.
I noticed as a large, beautiful female dragon approached. The crowd parted around her deep indigo form, and she gave nothing away as her eyes swept over Gaelan and me. “Gaelan,” she breathed in a voice centuries old. “We have waited patiently for an answer, the council demands you provide one immediately.”
He shifted beside me and tossed his head noncommittally from one side to the other. I knew as well as this female did that Gaelan did not have an answer to the predicament of the impending hunt. “The solution has not yet come to me, Mother.” I felt chagrined that he had not somehow indicated to me that this was his mother, but when I considered how we had not spent much of our time together discussing family ties, I easily forgave him and tried to put on a good face.
She seemed exasperated, the first crack in her veneer of flawless elegance. “I shudder to think of Alpha’s face when he hears you say that, Gaelan. Come with me.”
Gaelan nodded subtly to me, and I took it as an indication that I should follow him and his mother. My stomach began churning with discomfort under the curious eyes of the clan members. It was obvious to them that while Gaelan had not returned with a solution, he had managed to bring home a bit of eye candy for himself. It did not reflect well on our budding relationship. I swallowed and tried getting nearer to Gaelan in the hopes of his warmth and comfort penetrating my scales and somehow finding my heart.
We had not walked far when we came upon the council. I knew immediately which dragon was the one called Alpha as he reminded me uncomfortably of my father. He was fat and stern and my muscles clenched at the sight of him. He was speaking in a low, threatening voice to a large male dragon with pink scales. I vaguely remembered something Gaelan had said about his father’s scales being pink. I cast my eyes quickly around the rest of the clan and was not surprised to find this was the only pink dragon among them. Unnecessarily, Gaelan whispered over his shoulder, “That is my father, there.”
We made our way to the front of the throng, and I kept my eyes low as Alpha made his anger apparent to the few gathered close enough to hear him. “The call has gone out. We have waited in vain for this incompetent fool to bring us a solution, yet he returns with nothing but another dragon to share in our turmoil.” Before I knew what was happening, Alpha was speaking to me.
“Do you have an answer, then? Is that what I am to assume from your presence among us? Are you the key to our success? Well?” I floundered for a response, but Gaelan stepped between the horrible elder dragon and me, and bared his teeth.
“Leave her out of this, Alpha. This is another matter entirely and it can be discussed after we find a solution to the problem of the hunters.”
His eyes were dark and hateful. “Yes, if there are any of us left after the hunt to discuss, I suppose it can. Now stand back so I may address the clan as to the gravity of this situation.”
I stepped back, alongside Gaelan, and watched as the meeting unfolded before me. It was blessedly nothing like my father’s dictations and consultations with the people of the village. All my foolish, fat father ever did was shout at the people, telling them his proclamations and making demands of them. While I still could not find a spot of goodness in Alpha, I had to admire the involvement of the clan in the decision-making process.
“As many of you know, we face a dire situation. The people of the valley are sending a hunting party into these hills. The goal of the hunter is to bring back as many horns of the dragon as possible, and these men will stop at nothing to succeed. None of us are safe, because Man is a selfish creature, and where no horns are present, he will take our blood, our scales, our tears. I know I am supposed to lead you and protect you, but this event has snuck up on our clan in a way none of us could have foreseen.” He was not subtle about casting a hateful eye at Gaelan. It was an expression that seemed to say, “None of us except you, that is. And you failed us.”
“So while I am not able to present you with a solution at this time, I would like to open the council to all. Every suggestion will be considered, as time is very short, and it is imperative for us to have a plan when those humans begin spilling over the crests of our hills.”
I listened sadly to the suggestions of frantic mothers, confused children, devoted fathers. As Alpha said, each suggestion was briefly discussed among the council members before it was either dismissed or taken into further consideration. I was trying so hard to pay attention, but there was something almost tangible knocking at the back of my mind. It sounded at first like two small stones being clicked together. I looked about for the source of the sound, but every dragon was paying rapt attention to their leader.
Open the door, I told myself. Or rather, my mother told me, for the thought struck me in a voice that was unmistakably hers. I pictured in my mind the post of a door, and envisioned myself pulling it open. There she stood, glorious and shrouded in a gown of white and gold. Her hair flowed like a river over her shoulders. Her eyes were soft as sunrays breaking through storm clouds. I felt my heart swell and burn with love for her, and I listened as she gave me the instructions that I knew would save the clan.
As she spoke, I became vaguely aware of other voices, they sounded curious, concerned. I could almost make out Gaelan’s smooth words, but I knew better than to concentrate on anything other than the things my mother was telling me. I focused my mind on her and her alone, and the rest of the world fell away.
We were seated at a gorgeous, ornate table. I recognized it as the one that once stood in the dining hall in our old palace. My father had left it behind when we left and moved to this new, different place. She folded her hands across her lap and said, “You look different, my sweet daughter.”
I nodded, unable to meet her eye as I admitted, “I am a dragon now, Mother. But inside I am still the same.”
“Are you happy?” she asked as she extended an arm and placed her fingers delicately beneath my chin. She lifted my face so that our eyes would meet. I realized I could tell her anything, and she would not only listen, but would help me.
“I am. I know I made the right decision.” It was the truth, but she could see something else behind my large, confused eyes. “The clan—my new family—is in trouble. You see, fath—” I stumbled on the word, and she nodded to show she understood. “Well, he issued a hunt for the people of the valley, and that puts my new family in danger. Gaelan tried to find a solution, but instead brought me back and I do not think the council is very happy about this.”
She nodded again, taking in my words and processing them slowly and deliberately. “This Gaelan,” she spoke his name with as much reverence and adoration as I felt when I thought it. “You love him? You changed for him, yes?”
I stared into her eyes and was completely at peace. I could see the answer to the problem just behind her beautiful ice-blue irises. “Yes, Mother. He picked me up right where you left off. I will spend my life by his side, if only we manage to get through this trial.”
“Have you presented any suggestions to the council leaders?” she asked conversationally.
“I have not thought of any that will save the dragons without harming the humans. I still care for their well-being, despite no longer being one of them.”
The shadow of a smile crossed my mother’s angelic face and she leaned forward. “My daughter, I have always been here for you in your time of need. I will help you this day. Tell my words to the council and fear not. I will help you. Together we will deliver this clan.” She stood and came to me. I could feel her embrace in every cell of my body. I vibrated with the warmth and love and understanding that she shrouded me in. I never wanted her to let go, but I knew better than to be selfish at a time such as this. She released me and looked up into my eyes. “It is time.”

Every member of the clan had their eyes on Eve when she awoke. Even the children were still and silent as we watched her regain consciousness. I wanted to be the only one she saw, so she would not feel embarrassed by what had transpired. I stood directly in front of her as she slowly blinked her eyes open and looked up at me.
“I have a suggestion for the council,” she said blearily and without explanation. Without another word to me, she stood and walked to where Alpha stood. She bowed her head nearly to the ground before speaking to him. Their words were hushed, and Alpha looked confused for a moment, but at something she uttered his brow smoothed, and he stepped back to allow her room to address the clan.
“Members of the clan,” she began confidently. I was surprised at how comfortable she appeared before the crowd of my kind. It made me love her even more. “I know that you do not know me. You have no reason to trust me or even believe me when I say that I have the answer to the problem we all face. All you know is that I showed up with Gaelan in place of a solution, but now I am pleased to say that I have an answer.” We all listened as she told the story of her transformation from human to dragon. There was a stirring among the council, but she asked them to please let her speak, that the details could be discussed later. We listened as she told of her mother and the visions she had received since girlhood. We listened as she told us what had transpired when she slept and shook and we all stood watching in awe.
“My mother has come to me again, this time in person rather than through words. She had told me that she is gathering an army of her kind—spirits from beyond. They will protect these hills from the humans. You may or may not know, but humans are the most superstitious creatures on earth, and if they have reason to believe that these hills are haunted by the ghosts of the departed, they will never set foot in them again. My mother will succeed. We have no need to fear the hunters.”
When she finished speaking, I could almost hear the heartbeat of the herd, pounding in unison with faith in this beautiful, new, golden dragon. There was a whoop of agreement from somewhere in the back of the group, and it caused an uproar of accord. Wings were flapping and tails were lashing about, as every dragon showed his or her support of Eve and her mother’s plan.
We organized the clan as far from the valley as possible, so there would be plenty of room for Eve’s mother and her minions to ward off the humans. The children cowered in caves and streams, and the mothers stood behind the fathers. Everyone was on high alert, just waiting for that first hunter to crest the hill and bring with him a shower of arrows and hate.
It was not long before we heard the cries, the whoop and holler of the incoming warriors. They were fired up with the desire to slay in the name of the king. It made my claws itch for revenge. I wanted to silent them eternally. But if Eve’s plan worked as effectively as she seemed confident it would, we would never have to worry about the humans again.
I watched in suspense as the warriors spilled over the crest of the hill, their flags and ribbons and hair blowing in the early morning wind. The sun shone brilliantly off their helmets, shields and sword tips. It did not seem right for such despicable creatures to carry the power of the sun this way. As far as I cared, only Eve deserved to shine so gloriously in the light of the sun. I cast my eyes over to her, and was not surprised to see how uneasy she looked. There was far more emotion riding on this battle for her than the rest of us. She had empathy for the people and for the dragons. We cared only to survive these horrible monsters.
As the men approached by foot and on horseback, I began to become uneasy. There was yet no sign of Eve’s mother, and the men were gaining ground. In a few hundred yards they would be within shooting range, and after that we would be vulnerable to their blades. I stood as tall as I could, wishing in vain that I had the stature of my father. The men kept coming, and my nerves kept rising. I looked over at Eve, who seemed as uncomfortable as I was. I hissed, “Where is your mother?”
Her eyes looked helpless and lost, wide in green wonder. “I know not,” she said softly, defeated.
I moved closer, wrapping my tail around hers in a very intimate gesture. She softened a bit beneath my embrace, and I hoped my power of comfort was able to help in this instance. Together, we looked out at the encroaching danger.
As we did, we were both stricken with awe and disbelief at the things we saw. It was as if a great white whirlwind had begun in the center of the field, equidistant between our clan of dragons, and the throng of warriors. It was higher than three grown dragons, and as wide as a wingspan. The humans, on the far side of the spinning column, had stopped in their advance. They all watched with wide eyes as this pillar broke into several smaller wind columns, and spread out across the field. After it had divided, there stood nine spinning tubes of wind and white light. The one in the center still stood taller and larger than the others, and I knew it was the power of Eve’s mother.
The sky, which had started as clear and blue as the glassy surface of the ocean, had now turned a thunderous black-ish grey. The clouds were lower than I had ever seen them, and there was a rumble coming from them that made my heart pound. I wondered what the likelihood of Eve’s mother changing sides was, but the thought was fleeting. As I watched the pillars of white light spin around, captivating all audiences, my fear began to dissipate. The columns were morphing, changing. Soon they had taken shape of human beings, still glowing with an inner, ghostly light.
I looked at the nine figures before us, there were two children on the far edges, one girl and one boy. They looked no older than ten. Next to them were four young adults, possibly even pubescent young people. Their genders were indiscernible, as they all had shoulder-length hair and I was only seeing them from behind. The inside three, Eve’s mother included, were all adults and of impressive stature. It was a woman on the left side, and a man on the right. They all wore flowing white gowns, with varying embellishments, such as collars or lace-up backs. They seemed to hover a foot or two above the billowing, blowing grass of the field. They were glorious.
I pulled my eyes away from the unearthly beings, with some difficulty, and let them rest on the humans. Every face was etched with the same horrified expression, eyes stuck open, mouths spread in a ghastly, disturbing O shape. Their weapons had fallen to the ground about their feet. I noticed an uncomfortable stream of darkness between the legs of many men and felt embarrassed on their behalves. They were shaking and stammering and Eve’s mother had not yet spoken.
There was a wicked slash of lightning, and the thunder crashed with ear-splitting volume. Some of the men began to cry, and I found myself snickering at this. I huddled closer to Eve and listened as the voice of her mother shook the sky.
“Eila speaks,” she roared. Her voice was smooth and all-encompassing. “You hunters do not belong here. You have been sent by a wicked king who does not deserve the position he holds. It is a sin for you to act against these creatures, and your actions will not go unpunished.” Her statement was met by a flash-crack accentuation from the thunder storm above.
“You will leave this place,” Eila said ominously, bringing her minions a bit closer to the group of shivering men.
I hoped it would end at that. I hoped the men would heed her words and be gone. But in the nature of true pig-headed human behavior, one warrior shouted from the back of the group. All eyes were upon him as he stepped forward.
“What if we choose not to leave? There is a wealth of riches and promise on the other side of this field that I intend to get my hands on.”
Eila was silent a moment, but there was a communication coursing between her and her fellow spirits. The light shifted and moved like liquid through them. “Very well,” Eila said at last, drawing gasps from the dragons and an alarmed exchange of glances among the men.
The hunter who had spoken smiled arrogantly, and picked up his sword and shield. He stepped from the throng of his companions, eager to be the only one given a crack at besting the dragons. His pig eyes were small and hungry as he looked at us, as if he were deciding who to attack. I watched with no surprise as his eyes slid to me and the crown of horns upon my head. He scowled, grinned, and began his march across the field.
Despite protests from Eve and my mother, I separated myself from the group and began marching across the expanse of grass as well. I tried to go slowly, rationing my large steps so that we could meet directly in the middle. I did not want either one of us to become outnumbered.
My heart was thudding against the cage of my ribs, and I worried the human would sense my unease. The last thing I wanted was for him to think he was at an advantage. So when we were close enough for it to matter, I stood up on my hind legs and let out a phenomenal roar. It did not contain the surrounding effect of Eila’s voice, but it got my point across nicely, and the man seemed to hesitate.
Either his words were a bluff, or I did not instill fear in him as I had hoped. “You do not frighten me, beast. I am Grimwold the Great. I have defeated dragons three times your size and I will not be felled by you.” He laughed, a dangerous low sound in the back of his throat.
His words struck me just as he intended, making me feel small and insignificant. If this human was capable of killing dragons larger than even my father, what chance did I stand? I swallowed and braced myself, thinking of my dexterity and swiftness, and how often they had helped me in the past. If he drew an arrow, I would attack. If he got close enough to slice me with his blade, I would evade it. I was so busy planning my line of defense; I did not notice the small spirit of the young girl sidling up behind my opponent.
Just as Grimwold reached over his shoulder for an arrow, and I reared up on my hind legs, the frail young girl wrapped her ghostly hands around his elbow and his neck, pulling them close together until the snap of his dislocating shoulder sounded through the field. His face contorted in pain and alarm, and it stayed that way even after the spirit twisted his neck easily in her hands. She let his body fall, lifeless to the ground. The whole while her eyes stayed fixed on me.
The demonstration caused the men to wail and shout in surprise and dismay. They brought their hands to their own throats and kept their eyes on the other spirits, worrying that they would meet the same fate as their fearless friend. The young spirit girl nodded once at me, and returned to her position as one of Eila’s faithful minions.
As if on cue, the men began to scatter and run about, toward the hills, toward the river, toward the spirits: some so willing to meet their own demise. The young spirits twisted a couple of the heads off men who seemed threatening, as Grimwold had. The pubescent spirits held the arms of the men behind their backs while the children smacked them about a bit, roughed them up. In all the mayhem, however, no human managed to break through the barrier that Eila had created. The dragons remained safe on the far side of the field.
Just as I was thinking this, and marveling at her power, Eila’s voice filled the sky again. The men all stopped, whether by their own accord or by Eila’s unseen powers, I know not. But they stood still as stone and listened.
“Carry these words home with you, warriors. You are never to hunt in these hills again, whether it be for sport or survival. Find your fares elsewhere. These hills will forever be protected by the spirits of Eila. Tell your people, for their ignorance will not spare their lives, should they tread on this hollowed ground.”
With heads nodding, shocked and shaken, the men retreated. When the last man disappeared over the crest of the hill, we watched with awe and glee as Eila’s minions cleared the field of the bodies of the dead. Eila approached the dragons. When she spoke, her voice was low and intimate.
“My child,” she breathed, addressing Eve, and sparing a glance at me. She placed her large, glowing hands on either side of Eve’s face. She looked deep into her eyes, and they communicated silently. The light moved, pearlescent and beautiful, through Eila’s arms, flowing unbroken into Eve’s scales. The spots of lighter gold faded as Eila removed her hands and spoke to me.
“You are a brave soul, Gaelan. You will protect my daughter as we have protected your people. What I said to those men is not myth. Eila will always be here, watching over these hills and lakes. Love her, as I love her.” She placed one hand to my breast and I felt my heart sear with heat and strength under her touch. I was met by a stream of memories, belonging to both Eve and me. They were sweet and fleeting. When Eila removed her hand I was out of breath. But I understood what her daughter meant to her, and to me.
“I will always protect her. I will love her eternally,” I said gently, hoping Eila would hear the gratitude in my words.
She seemed satisfied, for she nodded and smiled, as beautiful as the sunrise. When she did, the clouds thinned and shards of light cascaded down upon us. The grass shone greener and tinkling of the river sounded like bells. I had never felt a part of something so wonderful and beautiful in my life.
We all watched as Eila gathered her minions. They stood before us in formation, just as they had arrived. They all nine smiled such brilliant smiles at us, and in one phenomenal flash of light, they disappeared. They left nothing behind but a dust like gold on the field where they had stood.
The dragons let out a collective breath, and the little ones were called forth from their hiding places. They could sense the spirit of Eila and the beauty she had left behind. They sauntered excitedly to the strip of golden grass and began sniffing at it, trying to discern the foreign substance. The parents laughed and families huddled together in relief. We were safe. We were safe for an eternity.
It was not long before the birth of our son. He was a flawless little monster, with scales of aqua and a long, slender neck. He was always made for water, and it did not surprise us when he made his home in the lake. You may have heard of him, for he lives in the depths of Loch Ness. Even if you never do lay eyes upon him, know that my glorious mate and I are never far away, protected eternally in the hills of Scotland.