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thicclaurance · 5 years

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Two Hundred and Twenty Nine Days and Three Quarters.

Yody Yo! This is my piece from the summer Aphmau magazine that was put together by @aphmauzine ! Please check out the zine to see all the lovely work everyone submitted including my friends Char, Al, and Yesani!

This is also my first Aphmau writing piece, and the first of my writing that I’ve shared here on this blog; I hope its well recieved and that I’ll be able to share more work with y’all.

Pairing: Dan-Chan

Series: MCD (original)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2508

Two Hundred and Twenty Nine Days and Three Quarters.

Rays of golden sun cascaded through the glass of the window and into the bedroom. It heated the room, but instead of providing a comfortable and cozy warm like snuggling up with the one you love in front of the fire, it was a humid and sticky warm. It felt like being trapped in a pot of water that was quickly reaching boiling point. The heat was excruciating, it was so maddening it caused Dante to stir. He lifted his body only to twist before dropping back against the mattress like a sack of potatoes; but he only receive those lovely golden rays right in his eyes. His eyes opened, only a sliver, only to realise it was only another summer day.

To Dante, summer only ever felt like it droned on, It was like a meeting discussing how everyone was fine and the village faced no threats, but still lasted hours. Summer was only filled with sweltering days filled with humidity and annoying swarms of insects that buzzed in his ears and bit at his skin. The days felt like they droned on, lasting like weeks instead of hours as he almost roasted alive in his armor. Most people, especially in Phoenix Drop, felt that it was winter that droned on, and sure the season was a full month longer than the rest; but the days go by at the snap of a finger. You wake up and blink once and it’s already time to sit down for dinner with your lover. But for Dante, summer was the worst.

It took all the willpower he held in him to actually get up; he only got up because he knew he’d never be able to fall back asleep. Dante flipped onto his back and pushed his palms against the aged mattress to gain leverage as he forced himself into a seated position. His hands left the mattress and balled as he brought them to his eyes, a loud yawn escaped his mouth as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He felt the weight of the mattress shift next to him and heard a small and almost inaudible groan.

His gaze met the woman next to him as she shifted into a more comfortable position. Long pink hair laid tangled around her head and over her eyes, something Dante envied was the ability to ignore the sun. Her bare shoulder peaked out from the dull colored blanket as she curled herself back up. A smile spread across his face and his gaze softened as he looked at her, she was beyond compare to anyone nor anything. He leaned over and placed a sweet kiss to her shoulder; he twisted back around and let his feet rest on the upsettingly warm wooden floor. He stood and stretched his arms above his head and arched his back.

Dante’s next action was to track down his clothing that laid in various places on the floor alongside Kawaii-Chan’s. It was a simple yet tedious task to find specific articles and to dress himself, it only added to the heat. His chainmail, awful. The suit of armor, horrendous. It’d been about nine years since he took over as the head guard, nine and a half years since he began his daily task to watch the gate; nine years and a half since everyone’s disappearance. It was hard for him to think about all the friends he lost; but it was even harder not to seeing as he left his home at the same time every morning just to wait for them, waiting for them at the gate, hoping they’ll all return.

That’s where he found himself after hours, at the gate. The village walls had begun to crack and crumble as the weather took its toll, and ivy and moss grew against the sides. Birds chirped happily to one another, all enjoying the heat. The ground below his feet had worn down a bit and dipped down into the indent of his feet, it’s what happens when you three thousand four hundred and sixty nine days standing in one specific spot. And Dante stood in the same exact spot again today, he stood there for hours, hours spent almost succumbing to heat stroke. He stood there, until the sun had made it to the tree line and the air had cooled, until it was time to go home. He pivoted on one foot and turned away from the entrance. The trip to the gate and back was always nice. Though the houses had begun to suffer the same fate as the wall, they were still filled with kind villagers, well kind villagers that were still left.

“Fancy running into you here Dante!” The chipper country accent of a certain chipper brunette run out. She smiled brightly at him and lifted a hand to give a short wave from the end of the path. Instead of being able to walk down the path, she more waddled, one of her hands laid on her swollen stomach. “You headin’ home for the night?”

“Good evening Donna! My shift just ended so I’m heading home to Kawaii-Chan.” Dante responded as she approached him, a kind smile weaved it’s way into his face as he spoke to Donna.

“I’m sure she whipped up something nice for the two of you! I swear ever since she found out she was pregnant too all she has is baked! I can’t go a day without her springing some muffins or a cake on me!” She laughed.

“Don’t I know it! I don’t think I’ve gone a day without fresh baked goods in eight months!” He returned her laughter, it was a nice change of pace to laugh.

“Logan’s been enjoying it though, he can’t get enough if those cookies she brings over!” She placed a hand on her chest as she threw her head back and laughed. Dante was sure she hadn’t had a good slug in a while either. As their laughter died down, Donna’s gaze softened as she spoke again, “You gonna do what you talked to me about the other day?” She asked.

“I think I am, I plan on finally telling her” He nodded as he talked. “That you for helping me sort it all out!”

“Of course I would dear! Thank god you came along when you did! Logan won’t let me do anything as long as I have these creatures in me!” She motioned towards her stomach as she let out the complaint. “You better get going if you want things to go as planned.” Dante nodded again and said his goodbyes. The green eyes woman waved him off before returning to her evening stroll.

Dante took in the rest of the town’s scenery as he walked. Passing the village square that laid in disarray, the overgrown guard tower, half harvested golden fields, and even the hill the house of old lord, Aphmau, resided on. He passed a few people, Alexis and Kyle looked to be playing in the grass, but they were obviously training to be the next village guards, they swung wooden swords at each other and took turns dodging attacks. Not too far from them stood Molly and Dale, never seen too far from Alexis. They’ve both watched over her like hawks ever since the Zane incident about ten years ago. Dante provided a wave to the long term couple as he passed, they both returned his motions.

Finally, he had made it to his home. It was a standard house alongside the rest of the homes in Phoenix Drop. When him and Kawaii-Chan first decided to start living together she was upset at the lack of originality, she wanted a bright colored home, just like the pink one she lived in. It was a miracle Dante had convinced her otherwise, but he compromised with allowing her to plant whatever type of flowers she wanted in front of the house. He walked slowly up the cobble stone path and up the dark wooden door. He filled his lungs with one large breath and allowed his mind to become a blank slate, free of worry and hurt, before letting it out slowly like he releasing air from a balloon, and opened the door.

“Ah Dante-Kun! Welcome home!” He was greeted with the sweet voice of the woman who loved him. The atmosphere was warm and peaceful, like it always was around her. A few candles had been set out, ready to be lit as soon as it got dark enough, and she stood by the front door, in the kitchen. “How was your day Dante-Kun?” She asked as she waddled towards him and forced herself up to is height before she left a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“We don’t have time to talk about that darling, I need to bring you somewhere.” He spit out as soon as her heels came in contact with the wooden floor.

“What do you mean Dan-”

“I’m not joking Kawaii-Chan, I need you to come with me this instant.” Dante made sure his tone was calm as he spoke, careful not to scare the pregnant woman in front of him. He grabbed Kawaii-Chan’s hand, and barley let her slip into her shoes, before he led her out of the house.

“Where are you taking Kawaii-Chan, Dante-Kun?!” She asked, confused and slightly panicked. Their feet pounded against the cobblestone streets as they passed Molly and Dale who still stood watching the kids, and past the half golden fields.

“You’ll see when we get there!” He continued to remain vague as the two passed the street Dante took to and from the gate every morning and evening.

“Good luck Dante!” Donna yelled and waved as she made her way back up the street.

“We’re almost there” Dante huffed as he led her up the hill to the old lord’s house. Before stopping for a second to let Kawaii-Chan catch her breath.

“Why’re we at Aphmau-Senpai’s house?” She asked, before Dante dragged her to the left. They passed the large tree in the front yard and playset meant for the long gone Levin and Malachi, for they had left along with their caretaker Zoey, long ago. They weaved through the oak and birch trees, swerved past berry bushes, and avoided pesky evening insects.

“Be careful, I don’t want you to get hurt.” Dante said as he slid down a short sandy slope. They had arrived to the yellow sanded beach of the cove. “Take my hand.” He instructed as he reached a hand out to the amber eyed woman. Even though she was hesitant, afraid to fall and hurt herself let alone her unborn child, but yet she obliged. Her slim hand fit in Dante’s calloused one like puzzle pieces as he helped her down from the grassy area of the woods to the sandy shore of the beach.

“Just in time!” Dante mumbled and led Kawaii-Chan to the final destination, the shoreline of the beach.

It was a well known spot to the villagers. But it was rarely used since it was a place Aphmau had spent time and after her disappearance, no one picked up the habit of visiting. Dante and Kawaii-Chan were different though. They visited here on their first date, they didn’t care that it had been covered in snow at the time, instead they built snow maids and men together. That was exactly two hundred, twenty nine days and three quarters ago. He’d kept track of every day, every moment they shared together, and this was the perfect place.

“Dante-Kun, Kawaii-Chan is still confused.” She said her amber eyes trying to meet his deep sea blue ones, but instead of meeting her gaze he stared out at the horizon. The sun had just become halfway submerged into the sea leaving behind a painting of rose gold skies that blended into vibrant purples and deep blues.

“Kawaii-Chan, I need your one hundred percent attention.” Dante said and took both her frail hands into larger ones, finally able to meet her gaze. Unable to know how to respond, Kawaii-Chan simply nodded. “We’re alone so I know you’ll trust me to say this, Nana,” Dante took a deep breath to prepare himself to what he was going to say after this.

Dante felt her stiffen at the use of her real name. Something she’d trusted him enough to tell him just before they moved in together. He squeezed Kawaii-Chan’s hands in reassurance and she allowed herself to relax. It was short lived though, because immediately Dante released her hands and crouched down, kneeling on one knee.

“Nana, I know I’m not much with words. I never have been. But I’m going to speak from the heart.” He started off with, “I have known you for ten wonderful years, though we’ve only been together for eight months, I’ve never felt more connected to anyone before.”

As he finished that sentence, tears began to stream down Nana’s face. Tears of happiness, tears of surprise. She didn’t care when the tide had begun to come in and rolled over her feet, ruining her new dress. Dante didn’t care either, he didn’t care if it would leave his armor a sepia colored rust, he could get a new set.

“I never expected to fall in love with such an incredible woman, such an exciting woman, such a unique woman, such a gorgeous woman. Let alone did I expect to be expecting a child with her, to have a bundle of joy that would be a product of our love. I’ve had relationships in the past, good and bad, but none of them hold a candle to you Nana. None of them come close to how you make me feel.” Dante began to choke on his words, a tear began to slide down his cheek as he spoke, but it was no match the rivers flowing from Nana’s eyes.

He fumbled with his side, fingers mismanaging to grasp the box at his side. As he finally grasped it, his hands shook as he held it up to the beautiful pink haired woman in front of him. He opened it to reveal a small, but gorgeous silver ring encrusted with three small pink diamonds.

“I’ve cherished every day you’ve spent with me. All two hundred and twenty nine days and three quarters have been a dream, a blessing. So Nana, will you continue our two hundred and twenty nine days and three quarters streak and spend every day, until the day we die, together with me, and marry me?” He finally asked, a weight lifted from his chest as he finally got the words out, but it was replaced with the anxiety of rejection.

“Of course Kawaii-Chan will marry you Dante-Kun! Kawaii-Chan couldn’t think of anyone else she’d spend the rest of her life with!” She sobbed. She grabbed the sides of his face and bent down, as far as she could without crushing her stomach, and pulled Dante into a passionate kiss.

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phynxrizng · 6 years

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WHAT IS IMBOLC

All about Imbolc SOURCE, CLADDAGH DESIGN.COM by Claddagh Design on Jan 19, 2017 @ 9:26 pm in Special Days Imbolc, or Imbolg, is one of the lesser known festivals of the ancient Celts, but it was one of the four most important festivals in the Celtic calendar. For this ancient society, the year revolved around two main points; on the one hand, since the Celts were an agricultural society, everything was based around the harvest. On the other hand, they also had an in-depth knowledge about the alignment of the sun and stars, which history suggests had great significance for them. So their calendar was neatly divided up into four quarters, with a festival to celebrate reaching each one. The year started with Samhain at the end of October, when the harvest was in full swing, to prepare for the onset of winter. In Celtic philosophy, light must always follow dark, so this is why their year began on such a sombre note. Bealtaine at the beginning of May marked the coming of summer, the beginning of sowing crops, and the light half of the year, and was the biggest and happiest celebration. In between were Lughnasa in August, marking the beginning of the harvest, and Imbolc in February, to celebrate the beginning of spring. What was Imbolc about? Simply put, Imbolc was a celebration of the end of winter, and the impending light half of the year. The hardest part of the year was over; adverse weather, cold temperatures, food rationing, and of course, no warfare (an integral part of Celtic society) would soon be a thing of the past. Farmers were getting ready to go back to work, preparing animals for breeding, warriors were picking up their weapons again, and the political and social aspects of life that had been put on hold for winter were also beginning again. The name Imbolc originates from ‘i mbolg’, which translates as ‘in the belly’. This refers to livestock breeding season, particularly the pregnancy of ewes, which was one of the focal points of the celebration. Because the festival was so associated with this, its timing often varied – it could be anywhere from mid-January to mid- February depending on the weather and the animals’ behaviour. It also appeared to have a more spiritual significance for the Celts too, as it’s no coincidence that more than a few megalithic monuments around Ireland are perfectly aligned with the rising sun around the dates of Imbolc and Samhain. Imbolc was celebrated all across Ireland, Scotland, and the Isle of Man, with each region having slightly different variations in name and customs. Wales also had a remarkably similar version of the festival known as Gwyl Fair y Canhwyllau. After the onset of Christianity in Ireland, the festival was tied in with a celebration of Saint Bridget, and transformed from a pagan one into a Christian one. Christians used Brigid as the focal point of their celebrations to smooth the transition, as Imbolc had previously been associated with a goddess of a very similar name, Brighid. Essentially, Bridget and Brighid were the same woman! As with all Celtic festivals, Imbolc involved a host of unique customs and rituals to welcome the spring, say farewell to the winter, ward against evil and promote health and wellbeing. What happened during Imbolc? Imbolc was similar to Samhain and Bealtaine in that fire played an integral part of the celebrations, although not on the same scale. While at Samhain bonfires were lit to ward off evil spirits and at Bealtaine they served to offer protection and growth, at Imbolc they were symbolic of the sun’s return. Rather than a huge central bonfire at the centre of the festivities, Imbolc was more about the home and each home’s hearth. Every home in the community would have their own fire burning right through the night, and during medieval times when homes consisted of actual wood and stone buildings rather than the wattle and daub huts of the Celts, all of the fires in the house were lit for the night. If for some reason that was not possible, it was sufficient to have candles lit in every room instead. The Celts were always concerned about the weather (something that has lasted up until the present day with modern Irish people!), so Imbolc was an important time to read omens and attempt to predict the weather for the summer. An unusual but widely popular omen was if the weather was especially bad on the day of Imbolc, which meant a great summer was on the way. This is because one of the more malicious creatures in Irish folklore, the Cailleach, would spend the day of Imbolc collecting firewood for herself if winter was to last a while longer. To do this, she would obviously need a bright and dry day to collect her wood, so if Imbolc was wet and windy, that meant the Cailleach had gone to sleep and winter would soon be over. Visiting wells was another important custom for Imbolc, particularly holy wells. Visitors would walk around the well in the same direction as the sun traversed the sky at that point on the land, praying for health and wealth for the year. Offerings were left at the well once this was done; usually coins or ‘clooties’ (pieces of cloth). Special foods were also part of the festivities, usually consisiting of bannock – a flat bread cut into wedges – as well as dairy products and meat. Saint Bridget and Imbolc The early Celtic version of Imbolc was not all that different from the festival in early medieval times, when Christianity was taking hold in Ireland. One of the goddesses the Celts worshipped at this festival was Bhrigid, the daughter of Dagda (the chief Celtic deity) and one of the Tuatha De Dannan, the first inhabitants of Ireland. She is associated with many things, most significantly poetry and fertility, but such activities as healing, smithing, arts and crafts, tending to livestock and serpents also make the cut. She is credited with creating a whistle for people to call to one another through the night. Some legends claim that while one half of her face was beautiful, the other was horribly ugly. She is thought by many to be the Celtic equivalent of the Roman goddess Minerva and the Greek goddess Athena. Saint Bridget, on the other hand, was not a mythical goddess but a real woman, born in Dundalk, county Louth, around the 5th century AD. During her lifetime she became a nun, founded numerous monasteries and performed her fair share of miracles, becoming one of the foremost advocates of Christianity in Ireland. After her death, she was made one of Ireland’s patron saints (and the only female patron saint), along with Patrick and Columba. So it was a natural progression for Imbolc, the pagan festival worshipping the goddess Bhrigid, to become the Christian festival in honour of Saint Bridget. February 2nd was chosen as the permanent day of celebration. For the Celts, Bhrigid represented the all important light half of the year, so her presence was much revered during the festival. On Imbolc eve, it was claimed that she would visit the most virtuous homes and bless everyone who slept in them, so people would leave pieces of clothing, food, or other tokens outside the entrance for her to bless, or to entice her into the home, It was Bhrigid’s role as a fertility goddess that was most important here, but for the medieval people of Ireland, her healing powers and general protective sense were as important as well as her fertility. The majority of Imbolc traditions regarding Bhrigid or Bridget come from this time. While the tradition of leaving small tributes to Bridget on the doorstep continued for several centuries, several others sprang up too. Ashes from the fire that was left to burn all night long would be smoothed out and left to see if a mark from Bridget appeared, ro confirm that she had visited the house. Sometimes a makeshift bed would even be made up next to the fire, in case the saint wanted to rest a while. This tradition was particularly popular in the Isle of Man and Scotland, where there were several short rhymes to go along with the tradition, acting as a call to the Saint to come and visit – generally, they were some variation on the phrase ‘Bridget, come in to our home, your bed is ready’. In some areas across Ireland and Scotland, women played a very important part in the festivities. They would make a doll figure from rushes known as a ‘Brideog’, dress it in white and with flowers, and carry it in a procession while singing hymns and poems in honour of Bridget. At every home they passed, they would receive more pieces of cloth or small bits of food for the Brideog. Once the procession was finished, they would place the Brideog in a seat of honour and have a feast with all of the food, before placing it in a bed for the night while they began celebrations. The most well known tradition however, and one that is still practiced today, is making a Saint Bridget’s cross and hanging it in the home. These crosses were a unique symbol of the transition from Paganism to Christianity. Before, bunches of rushes were tied together and hung at the entrance to homes to welcome Bhrigid. One of the stories of Bridget’s lifetime however recounts how she wove a cross from rushes and placed it above a dying man’s bed. He roused from his delirium to ask what she was doing, and on hearing what it meant, he asked to be baptised before his death. Since then, the cross has been a symbol for Bridget, and was also a familiar symbol for the Celts, making it the perfect transition symbol for Imbolc. The cross is distinctive, with a square in the middle and each point of the cross placed at a corner of the square. Somewhere between then and now, placing a cross in your kitchen came to mean that your house would be protected from fire, Imbolc today Unlike Samhain, which transformed into the much loved night of Halloween, Imbolc is one Celtic festival that hasn’t quite survived through history. Although Christians still celebrate St. Bridget’s Day in Ireland and children still learn how to make crosses at the start of February, little else remains of the ancient Celtic spring festival. However, Saint Bridget’s cross, made from rushes and hung around the home just as the Celts would have done, is as good a reminder as any to the festival’s ancient and mythological origins. REPOSTED BY, PHYNXRIZNG

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kkintle · 7 years

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The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith (a.k.a. Carol)

Or to live against one’s grain, that is degeneration by definition.

Bu the most important point I did not mention and was not thought of by anyone - that is rapport between two men and two women can be absolute and perfect, as it can never be between man and woman, and perhaps some people want just this, as others want that more shifting and uncertain things that happens between men and women.

The music lived, but the world was dead. And the song would die one day, she thought, but how would the world come back to life? How would its salt come back?

Carol raised her hand slowly and brushed her hair back, once on either side, and Therese smiled because the gesture was Carol, and it was Carol she loved and would always love. Oh, in a different way now, because she was a different person, and it was like meeting Carol all over again, but it was Carol and no one else. It would be Carol, in a thousand cities, a thousand houses, in foreign lands where they would go together, in heaven and in hell.

“I wonder if I’ll ever want to create anything again,” she said. “What brought this on?” “I mean - what was I ever trying to do but this? I’m happy.”

“What’s going to happen when we get back to New York? It can’t be the same, can it?” “Yes,” Carol said. “Till you get tired of me.”

“Is it? You can just start and stop?” “When you haven’t got a chance,” Carol answered.

What was it to love someone, what was love exactly, and why did it end or not end? Those were real questions, and who could answer them?

“Lines,” Carol said. “I can’t compete. People talk of classics. These lines are classic. A hundred different people will say the same words. There are lines for the mother, lines for the daughter, for the husband and the lover. I’d rather see you dead at my feet. It’s the same play repeated with different casts. What do they say makes a play a classic, Therese?”

“A classic is something with a basic human situation.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling. (...) Her answer sounded rather flat, but what other answer was there?

She never saw here, but it was pleasant to have someone to look for in the store. It made all the difference in the world.

Therese struggled against the chair, knowing she was going to succumb to it, and even aware that she was attracted to it for that reason.

Therese dressed herself and went silently out the door. It was easy, after all, simply to open the door and escape. It was easy, she thought, because she was not really escaping at all.

She started to ask him (...), but he didn’t, because what would matter if he did or didn’t?

The name, the address, the town appeared beneath the pencil point like a secret Therese would never forget, like something stamping itself in her memory forever.

She took with the pen poised over the card, thinking of what she might have written - “You are magnificent” or even “I love you” - finally writing quickly the excruciating dull and impersonal: “Special salutations from Frankenberg’s.”

“(...) Do you think you have time?” “Yes, certainly.” It was twelve-fifteen already. Therese knew she would be terribly late, and it didn’t matter at all.

“I think you are magnificent,” Therese said with the courage of the second drink, not caring how it might sound, because she knew the woman knew anyway. She laughed, putting her head back. It was a sound more beautiful than music.

Therese glanced at her face that was somewhat turned away, and again she knew that instant of half-recognition. And knew, too, that it was not to be believed. She had never seen the woman before. If she had, could she have forgotten?

In the silence, Therese felt they both waited for the other to speak, yet the silence was not an awkward one.

“How is it you live alone?” the woman asked, and before Therese knew it, she had told the woman her life story. But not in tedious detail. In six sentences, as if it all mattered less to her than a story she had read somewhere. And what did the facts matter after all, whether her mother was French or English or Hungarian, or if her father had been an Irish painter, or a Czechoslovakian lawyer, whether he had been successful or not, or whether her mother had presented her to the Order of St. Margaret as a troublesome, bawling infant, or as a troublesome, melancholy eight-year-old? Or whether she had been happy there. Because she was happy now, starting today. She had no need of parents or background.

“What could be duller than past history!” Therese said, smiling. “Maybe futures that won’t have any history.”

She was still smiling, as if she had just learned how to smile and did not know how to stop. The woman smiled with her, amusedly, and perhaps she was laughing at her, Therese thought.

“What a strange girl you are.” “Why?” “Flung out of space,” Carol said.

As if they were lovers, Therese thought. It would be almost like love, what she felt for Carol, except that Carol was a woman. It was not quite insanity, but it was certainly blissful. A silly word, but how could she possibly be happier than she was now, and had been since Thursday?

The wind was like ice against her teeth. Carol was a quarter of an hour late. If she didn’t come, she would probably keep on waiting, all day and into the night.

Therese looked up at her, unable to bear her eyes now but bearing them nevertheless, not caring if she died that instant, if Carol strangled her, prostrate and vulnerable in her bed, the intruder.

A world was born around her, like a bright forest with a million shimmering leaves.

She remembered reading - even Richard once saying - that love usually dies after two years of marriage. That was a cruel thing, a trick. She tried to imagine Carol’s face, the smell of her perfume, becoming meaningless. But in the first place could she say she was in love with Carol? She had come to a question she could not answer.

“ (...) The first adventures are usually nothing but a satisfying of curiosity, and after the one keeps repeating the same actions, trying to find - what? (...) Is there a word? A friend, a companion, or maybe just a sharer. What good are words? I mean, I think people often try to find through sex things that are much easier to find in other ways.”

At any rate, Therese thought, she was happier than she had ever been before. And why worry about defining everything?

“Do people always fall in love with things they can’t have?” “Always,” Carol said, smiling too.

“Are you a painter, too?” “No,” Carol said with another smile. “I’m nothing.” “The hardest thing to be.” “Is it?”

The wine in her head promised music or poetry or truth, but she was stranded on the brink. Therese could not think of a single question that would be proper to ask, because all her questions were so enormous.

“Everything’s not as simple as a lot of combinations,” Therese added. “Some things don’t react. But everything’s alive.”

“I remember being sure that nothing would happen to me then, but some other time, yes, eventually. And it made me very happy. I thought of all the people who are afraid and hoard things, and themselves, and I thought, when everybody in the world comes to realise what I felt going up the hill, then there’ll be a kind of right economy of living and of using and using up. Do you know what I mean? (...) Did you ever wear out a sweater you particularly liked, and throw it away finally?”

I feel I am in love with you, she had written, and it should be spring. I want the sun throbbing on my head like chords of music. I think of a sun like Beethoven, a wind like Debussy and birdcalls like Stravinsky. But the tempo is all mine.

An inarticulate anxiety, a desire to know, know anything, for certain, had jammed itself in her throat so for a moment she felt she could hardly breathe. Do you think, do you think, it began. Do you think both of us will die violently someday, be suddenly shut of? But even that question wasn’t definite enough. Perhaps it was a statement after all: I don’t want to die yet without knowing you.

“It just seems vague,” Therese said. “What does?” “The whole lunch.” Carol gave her a glass. “Some things are always vague, darling.” It was the first time Carol has called her darling. “What things?” Therese asked. She wanted an answer, a definite answer. Carol signed. “A lot of things. The most important things. Taste your drink.”

I feel I stand in a desert with my hands outstretched, and you are raining down upon me.

“It’s an acquired taste. Acquired tastes are always more pleasant - and hard to get rid if.”

Therese waited by the table while Carol was gone, while time passed indefinitely or maybe not at all, until the door opened and Carol came in again.

She saw Carol’s pale hair across her eyes, and now Carol’s head was close against hers. And she did not have to ask if this was right, no one had to tell her, because this could not have been more right or perfect.

“Are you just a habit?” she asked, smiling, but she heard the resentment in her voice. “You mean it’s nothing but that?”

“I mean responsibilities in the world that other people live in and that might not be yours. Just that now it isn’t, and that’s why in New York I was exactly the wrong person for you to know - because I indulge you and keep you from growing up.” “Why don’t you stop? “I’ll try. The trouble is, I like to indulge you.” “You’re exactly the right person for me to know,” Therese said.” “Am I?”

Nothing about Richard mattered so much to her as the way Carol blotted her face with a towel.

Carol wanted her with her, and whatever happened they would meet it without running. How was it possible to be afraid and in love, Therese thought. The two things did not go together. How was it possible to be afraid, when he two of them grew stronger together every day? And every night. Every night was different, and every morning. Together they possessed a miracle.

#carol #cate blanchett #the price of salt #patricia highsmith #fiction #lgbt #1950s #books #quotes

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icosahedonist · 7 years

Text

The Secret Garden

Note: this has nothing to do with the novel, other than it shares a name. Many thanks to the group chat participants who stayed up with me while I wrote this, and graciously allowed me to fill the chat with fic in the first place.

As has been his habit for long years, Sid wanders the local forest, and happens upon a quiet, well-maintained garden, where he meets a young man reading on a stone bench. The young man looks up at Sid's intrusion, a little shocked, but his face smooths to a pleasant smile. "Hello," he says, his voice soft and accented in a way that makes Sid think of adventures in far-off lands.

A moment passes and Sid blurts out, "Hi!" Hoping to regain equilibrium, he says, "My name's Sidney. Sidney Crosby." And the young man introduces himself as Evgeni Malkin. "I've walked these woods for years and never come across this place. Are you new in town?"

Some emotion flits over Evgeni's face before he replies, "Not new, exactly. But I'm surprised you came here; my garden is hard to find sometimes."

Evgeni gestures for Sid to join him on the bench. Sid sits beside him, the stone cool beneath his hands. He nods at the book. "What are you reading?"

"Ah, it's—" And Evgeni pauses as if embarrassed. Sid puts on what he hopes is an encouraging smile. "It's some poetry. A little slow going, as my English is poor."

Immediately Sid scoffs. "Your English is fine. and who cares how fast you read? I can hardly get through my assigned reading without nodding off, I'm so slow."

Evgeni laughs. "All right." His smile is so easy and without artifice, it makes Sid warm from the inside.

Searching for something to say, Sid asks, "What did you mean when you said your garden is hard to find sometimes? I could swear I've been by this area before, and I would have remembered a place like this, and..." He hesitates, then says, "I would have remembered someone like you."

Evgeni looks down. Sid worries that he's offended him somehow, but Evgeni says, so softly Sid has to strain to hear, "This is a forgotten place."

Brow furrowing, Sid makes to speak when Evgeni looks back at him. "I don't mean to sound melodramatic," he says, his smile returning, "but it's true."

"How?" Sid breathes. Melodrama or no, this mystery is too terrible to think about.

Shrugging, Evgeni says, "A curse fell upon the estate long ago. All who lived here were cursed to be forgotten. Everyone who passes by would overlook it, and I..." He grimaces. "I'm the last now."

Sid doesn't know what to say. Curses aren't real. are they? But he doesn't get the feeling that Evgeni is lying to him... And to what end? If he wanted some sympathy, he surely wouldn't invent such a tall tale.

But Evgeni shakes his head. "I know. It doesn't sound real, does it? I didn't think so at first when I heard it, but I'd see people pass by in the garden, and no matter how I shouted, no one ever approached."

"That's. That's awful," Sid says finally.

Evgeni shakes his head again, his smile returning. "Well." He claps his hands on his knees and stands. "Since clearly you are here, and we're talking now, why don't I show you the estate?"

Sid springs up faster than necessary. "Oh, I. I'd like, yes. Of course." Bemused, Evgeni gathers up his book and leads the way. They wend their way through the lush greenery, flowers and scented herbs lining their mossy, paver-laid path. Evgeni points out a tree that he climbed as a child ("You don't know how often I scared my parents." "I can imagine."). They pass a pond with ducks lounging by it, paying them no mind as they doze and waddle about and generally do duckish things.

Then they come upon the house itself. It's a large, dark manor, imposing and Gothic-looking and altogether foreboding, but Evgeni leads Sid up the multitude of steps and they go inside, the stained glass door opening and closing on well-oiled hinges.

"Sorry, it's a bit much," Evgeni says.

"No no, it's fine," Sid says faintly. The entrance opens to a grand staircase, large windows at the landing letting in copious amounts of sunlight. Above, an ornate chandelier twinkles among the dust motes. To the left and right are archways to other areas, and Evgeni gestures toward the left.

"Since it's just me now, I've cut down my living quarters considerably. So now I take my meals in the kitchen, and sleep in what used to be the dining room." He looks back at Sid, grinning and inviting him to share in the silliness that is a too-big house.

Sid grins back. "I'm sure it's cozy enough." And Evgeni laughs, and Sid feels warm again

They come to what is clearly a library. Books bound in every color, in every shape, fill the wall-to-wall shelves. At one end is an unlit fireplace with a well-worn, overstuffed chair in front of it. A knit blanket drapes over it, askew, and on the side table are a stack of books.

"I maintain this room too," Evgeni says, pride suffused in his voice. Sid marvels at the immensity, thinking that these sorts of personal libraries were a relic of the past. Then he thinks, if what Evgeni says is true, then it is a relic. But a well-loved one, clearly, and Sid can't be sad about that.

Quietly Sid says, "It's wonderful, Evgeni."

Turning bashful all of a sudden, Evgeni strides past Sid. They make their way to the other wing, where the kitchen and Evgeni's converted bedroom reside. They pass by other rooms, parlors and sitting rooms and rooms Sid can't even name, all of them quiet and sheet-covered.

The bedroom, though clearly too large for just one man, is simple in its furniture: a small bed made up carefully, a bedside table with a lamp, a dresser with odds and ends atop it.

The kitchen is much the same, but its old-fashioned design is more pronounced. A pile of wood is stacked by the door, and Sid realizes then that because of all the natural lighting, he hadn't noticed that this house likely doesn't run electricity. Which perhaps only means it's a curiosity. But Sid says nothing, merely nods and smiles when Evgeni looks at him like he wants Sid to approve of his well-kept kitchen.

"I could make you something, perhaps? I could roast some vegetables, I grow them myself."

Charmed, Sid says, "Thank you, but—" He looks at his watch, and when he glances up Evgeni is looking at his wrist in fascination. He unlatches it and hands it over for Evgeni to inspect. He watches as Evgeni turns it this way and that, fiddles with the clasp, pokes at the plastic face, and finally holds it up to his ear.

Evgeni shakes his head ruefully then hands Sid back his watch. "I knew there were surely inventions beyond what my books describe, but this is fantastic."

Sid believes him then, he decides. It'd be too much otherwise, even if believing in curses is still a far-fetched and frankly ridiculous notion.

"What will happen if I go?" Sid asks.

Evgeni looks away. The sunlight through the kitchen window lines his face in gold. "I don't know," he says, softly. He turns back, then says a little louder, "It was a miracle just to see you again, and for you to see me."

Sid blinks. Slowly, he says, "What do you mean, 'again?'" He stares at a now-silent Evgeni.

Then Sid has a thought: "Wait, you don't mean we've... have we—" But Evgeni shakes his head.

"I assure you, you've never met me before. But I told you that I would see people wander by the garden. I've... I've seen you over the years." He glances away, a strange smile over his face. "This is the first time you've seen me."

Sid can't think of what to say. Evgeni continues, "So I don't know what will happen when you leave. And you will leave, Sidney, because you can't stay here." And Sid wants to protest that, but it's true: Sid has his family, and all his friends, and classes and everything beyond this estate, beyond Evgeni.

"Then come with me," Sid blurts out, face burning with some emotion he can't name.

Evgeni stills. Sid presses on. "If I can see you now, what's to say you can't leave too? Maybe you don't have to stay here."

"This is my home, Sidney," Evgeni says gently, but Sid shakes his head.

"I know, but. maybe you can come back, I—I don't know, or, what if I come back? Surely I could," he says earnestly.

Evgeni's hesitation draws out like a dwindling rope, and for a moment Sid wonders if he's gone too far, or made Evgeni hope too much for something that may have worked only this one time.

Finally, Evgeni says, slowly, "If I go with you..." He covers his eyes with his hand. "If I go with you," he repeats, voice rough, "and if I can't leave, then I will still have this moment with you. Even if you can't return."

Sid takes a step toward him. "But if I can't return," Evgeni says, "what shall I do? This is all I've ever known. This estate has been in my family for... for forever. For it to stand alone and fall to ruin..."

Sid's heart thumps painfully in his chest. "I don't know. I wish I did. I wish that I could say you can... make a life with me, be friends outside this place, but..."

"But we're friends now." And Evgeni sniffles loudly, and says, "Aren't we?" He uncovers his eyes and looks down at Sid, his brown eyes full of unshed tears that make Sid want to brush them away.

"Yes," Sid says with absolute certainty.

This earns him a weak but genuine smile. "Then I will always have this miracle at least, and fret over nothing else."

They return to the bench in the garden, saying nothing along the way. Sid undoes his watch and presses it into Evgeni's hands. "Please. If... if I can't, then..." And he can't finish his sentence.

Solemnly Evgeni nods. For just a second he pauses, then ducks down to kiss Sid's cheek. Sid's fingers come up unbidden to linger there, and Evgeni's face colors.

"I'm glad I met you, Sidney Crosby. No matter what happens, I won't forget you."

He steps away, biting his lip. And then Evgeni turns and strides away toward the manor, and in the blink of an eye he's gone.

Sid shakes himself out of his daze. He goes home straightaway, and in a fit of inspiration writes down everything he can remember of the encounter: Evgeni on the bench with his book of poetry, the ducks at the pond, the vast emptiness of the manor, Evgeni showing him his beloved library. He mentions only that they parted as friends, and that Sid hopes to retrace his steps and go back to the garden.

That night he falls into the deep, dreamless sleep of one who's been through some great event.

When Sid wakes the next day he goes about his regular business: morning classes, lunch, more classes in the afternoon. By the time he gets home he's exhausted. He sees the journal by his bed that night, and flips to the end of it and reads what he wrote.

Memory comes to him all at once, a great shiver overcoming him momentarily.

It's like finding his second wind: he throws on his clothes and grabs a flashlight. Tromping through the woods at night is already a dangerous affair; Sid tells himself that it would be better to do this in the morning, but what if he forgets again? No, he has to try, he has to find the garden.

What memory he does have, thankfully, is good, so he feels confident that he's retracing his steps. But though he knows he's in the right area, he can't find it. Turning this way and that, his flashlight strobing through the trees, he feels a creeping sense of loss. The bench is gone, the manor is gone, and Evgeni—

Sid hears crunching in the distance. Then a voice. "Hello?"

It takes everything in him not to collapse from relief so strong.

He musters up his voice and shouts back, "I'm here!" He stays put, turning his flashlight toward where he heard the voice.

The crunching gets louder, and then a swinging light appears in the trees. Sid spots Evgeni and goes to him at once.

Evgeni has time only to say Sid's name in confused wonder before Sid is barreling into him, his arms wrapped tight as they can go around him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't remember, but I wrote it down and I had to know, I just had to—" Sid babbles out.

"Sidney, Sidney! Calm down, Sidney, please, what—" And Sid buries his face in Evgeni's thick sweater, and for a long moment they stand there in an embrace.

Finally Sid pulls back to look at Evgeni. "I wrote everything down. I only remembered when I read it again. I'm sorry."

Evgeni shakes his head. "Don't be sorry, Sidney," and he wants to protest, but Evgeni shushes him.

"Sidney, don't you see? I told you it was a miracle."

Sid blinks. Looking carefully at Evgeni's face in the lantern light, he sees tears in his eyes. "I don't—what do you mean, I don't understand."

Evgeni laughs wetly and presses a long kiss to Sid's forehead. There he whispers, "We're beyond the boundary of the estate."

Sid jerks back, but Evgeni's arm holds firm.

"But. If..." Sid licks his lips. "If you're here, then... can you...?"

"I don't know," is all Evgeni says. He turns away, and hand-in-hand he leads them toward the boundary. Long seconds pass, the crunching of dead leaves under their feet the only noise in the forest. Then Evgeni stops abruptly, and then steps forward again just as quickly.

There, under Evgeni's weeping figure, is the stone bench.

Sid rushes to his side and holds him as Evgeni sobs in relief. He says words too fast to understand in some language Sid doesn't know.

Wiping his face, Evgeni stands and lurches toward the path to the house, Sid following closely behind. They pass the climbing tree, and the pond, and walk the multitude of steps to the too-big, too-empty manor. Evgeni's tears spring up again, and Sid hustles them inside to the kitchen.

He fumbles around for a glass, and then fumbles some more with getting water, but eventually he's able to set the glass in Evgeni's hands. Once he's drank two full glasses, Evgeni says, his accent stronger, "I didn't know. I didn't..."

"It's okay," Sid murmurs. He rubs at Evgeni's back, and they sit in silence for... Sid doesn't know how long.

Finally Evgeni speaks again. "Well. This is not only a miracle, but a romantic adventure too."

Startled, Sid laughs, a short honk that makes Evgeni smile widely. He puts his hand over Sid's.

"It doesn't matter that you forgot, Sidney, only that you remembered."

"And came back," Sid replies, quiet and steady.

Evgeni squeezes his hand. "Yes."

And by that point the adventure of the evening has exhausted them both, and Evgeni insists Sid take his bed while Evgeni fixes up one of the other rooms for himself.

Sid sleeps easily. In the morning, he comes awake to faint sounds, the kind one hears when someone is trying to be quiet while they go about their routine. At first he's disoriented; his parents aren't over for a visit, and Taylor would make much more noise.

But then he remembers, and he bolts up from Evgeni's bed to find him in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables.

Sid doesn't know if this strange feeling of relief at seeing Evgeni will ever pass. But maybe, he hopes, it will become something normal: something he could get used to.

And when Evgeni smiles and beckons him to join in making breakfast, Sid does, and forgets the outside world for the morning.

#fanfiction #my fanfiction #sidgeno #rpf #pittsburgh penguins

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referrina · 7 years

Text

My Bucket List

Have One Million Dollars

Visit the Globe Theatre

Visit Madame Tussauds

Go Rock Climbing

Run in a Marathon

Get a professional makeover

Learn to play the Piano

Learn a Martial Art

Try out vegetarianism for 28 days

Learn to fold and origami crane, then make one every day and keep them in a jar.

Go rock climbing

Visit the Dead Sea

See the London Eye (or ride on it!)

Go on a Meditation Retreat

See cherry blossoms in Japan

Hit bull’s-eye on a dartboard

Visit a Volcano

See the Mona Lisa

Pose nude for an art class

Get a tattoo- Got my first one 2011, it was the Deathly Hallows symbol behind my ear!

Get an exotic piercing- Got my nose pierced in may 2010 at the ink shop on independence.

Learn archery

Reach 100,000 views on DeviantART

Attend a traditional circus carnival- Went to see the final Barnam and Bailey show with Allie and her family! The tigers were my favorite part!

Learn a foreign language

Make a mural/do graffiti (chalk counts)- That time I illegally chalked campus with Cassidy all day. Happened April 2013.

Celebrate my birthday at some other country

Graduate high school- Graduated in May 2009 from the AIS

Visit all the continents

Have a white Christmas- It snowed one year at 11pm on Christmas day in 2011. That counts! Me and dad went out for a walk in the snow at midnight.

Write a song/sing it and put it on the internet- I wrote The Date Song in Summer 2012 while ‘dating’ Kyle. It got 10k notes on Tumblr!

Give my hair some kind of color treatment- I got blonde highlights that I died purple in October 2011. Then I dyed my hair under my top layer blonde! I prefer my natural color now.

Kiss in the snow - Allie and I did this in 2017! It snowed at her old apartment.

Kiss in the rain- I kissed Kyle in the rain after school circa 2006 while we were waiting for our parents to pick us up. We kissed behind the cafeteria while it was pouring. I remember he smelled like a wet dog and I was worried about my hair the whole time.

Lose my virginity- I lost my virginity to Jeremy April 5th (the day after Easter) in 2010. It was nice, we had lamb roast after.

Sing in public- Done it loads of times since the talent show in high school (Feb 2009), but my most notable time was when I sung Ariana’s part in Bang Bang with my a capella club in college (Nov 2014)

See the pyramids

Go to a concert for an underground band- Went to go see HEALTH with Kyle and Jonathan in summer 2010. I also so Motion City Soundtrack’s final show in Nov 2013, and discovered Now, now at the same show.

Learn how to juggle

Own an I Heart NY Shirt from New York- I bought a black one from my New York senior trip in high school.

Sleep in a cheap motel- Me, Allie, and Mariana slept in a waterfront hotel for 40$ a night (thats cheap!). It was pretty nice for the price, would try again!

Watch the sun rise- Me, Cassidy, and Lynn Jia stayed out all night one Thursday and saw the sunrise from east deck.

See some World Wonders:

Great Pyramid Of Giza, El Giza Egypt

Great Wall of China, Huairou, China

Machu Picchu, Andes Mountains, Peru

Taj Mahal, Agra, Uttar Pradesh, India

The Colosseum, Rome Italy

Eiffel Tower, Paris France

Leaning tower of Pisa, Italy

Stonehenge, England

Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia

Plitvice Lakes National Park, Croatia

Bora Bora, French Polynesia

Angkor Wat, Cambodia

Venice, Italy

Lençóis Maranhenses, Brazil

Victoria Falls, Livingstone, Zambia

Santa Maria dell’Isola, Italy

Sydney Opera House, Australia

Quinta de Regaleira, Portugal

Montreal Botanical Garden, Canada

See the Sistine Chapel

Visit some USA Wonders:

Glacier National Park, Montana, USA

Redwood National Park, California, USA

Yellowstone National Park, USA

The Grand Canyon, Arizona, USA

Mount Rushmore, South Dakota, USA

Statue of Liberty, New York

Seattle Space Needle, Seattle

Walk the Freedom Trail in Boston

Niagara Falls

Drive from Miami to Key West

Visit the Alamo in San Antonio

French Quarter in New Orleans

Ride the Millennium Force at Cedar Point

Visit the Iowa State Fair

Swim in a Great Lake

Walk across the Golden Gate Bridge

Visit Vegas (as an adult)

See the northern lights in Alaska

Go to the State Fair- Went to the state fair September 2013 with Ron, Allie, and Amanda Honey. I ate so much fried food, I got sick when I came home. To this day, smelling onion rings still makes me nauseous.

Be on a reality TV show

Graduate from college- Graduated with a Bachelors of Science from UNCC Dec 13th 2014

Sleep under the stars- Went camping plenty of times, a few with my dad (May 2015 Kings Mountain, Nov 2015 Cherokee), and most notable with Allie and Jaden in April 2017 (Asheville).

Live past 50

Spend a night in an igloo

Plant a tree

Get a speeding ticket- My first speeding ticket was Oct 2010 going 55 in a 25 zone off of farm pond road. The police officer was nice and only gave me a ticket instead of arresting me. I was also high as a kite, coming from Saun and Tylers house.

See the sun set in the desert

Go to all 50 states

Milk a cow

Go to a drive in movie

Stay awake for 24 hours

Sleep on the beach

Send a message in a bottle

Visit all Disneylands

Have a picture taken in a photo booth - Did this at work for NH!

Find a four leaf clover- I have 2 that I found in my parents backyard. I have them preserved between two strips of clear masking tape.

Watch all Disney Animated Films before 2000

Skinny dip

Get a masters degree

Get a book published

Run though a field of wheat

Wish on a shooting star- Wished on a shooting star on my way home one night from college in summer 2013. It streaked across the sky and I wished that I would find someone to love me. I met Allie that year.

Get featured in a magazine/newspaper

Have my portrait painted- Allie did this October 2013 and its still THE BEST THING EVER. She drew me in a watercolor with a flower crown!

Swim with a dolphin

Be an extra in a film

Write a fan letter to someone who inspired me- I wrote a fan letter to Marina Herald, who wrong the ‘Through a Glass Darkly’ fan fiction novel which was a HUGE part of my life in 2010. She wrote me back and complimented my art and asked me to keep drawing things for her story because I was as important to the VR fandom as her. It meant alot.

Learn to ballroom dance properly

Sit on a jury

Stay out all night dancing and go to work the next day without having gone home (just once)- Summer of 2011 I went out with Ashley and her Brazilian friends from NY. We went to no less than 5 bars and I didn’t get home until 9 am, and I had to be at work at Healthy Home Market by 10 on Sunday. I was dog tired all day, but I made it until 6 and passed out at home. It was a good day.

Go out dancing period for that matter- I’ve gone out dancing a few times since.

Spend a night in a haunted house

See a lunar or solar eclipse - 2017 I went with my family to the zoo in South Carolina and we saw the solar eclipse!

Write my own will

Spend a whole day reading a great novel- Summer 2015 I spent all of a single day reading A Thousand Splendid Suns in my hammock. That same summer I spent a day reading A Great and Terrible Beauty, also in the hammock.

Animate something!- I learned how to animate GIFs in 2010!

Go up in a hot-air balloon

Create my own web site

Make a hole-in-one

Make a sex tape

Fly a kite- I flew kites with my friends at Kitty Hawke in April 2013

Ride a mechanical bull- I rode a mechanical bull while in Cherokee 2007 with my family during Christmas.

Ride a roller coaster- My first Roller Coaster was Thunder Road at Carowinds

Adopt an accent for an entire day- 2012, adopted a British accent at work with Healthy Home Market for a Sunday, and literally it was all anyone could talk about and people were SO much nicer.

Fire a gun- Shot my first gun at Megs house in Marion with Cassidy and Lynn Jia. I found it exhilarating, but not something I was good at. Spring 2013.

Climb a tall tree all the way to the top (or as far as you can go!)

Meet someone I met on the Internet in real life- Krystal Johnson, Dec 2013.

Vote- First vote cast during Obama’s second term, Nov 2012

Be on TV/radio - When I was in line to meet Hilary Clinton, NPR interviewed me and put it on thier show! I am still embarrassed!!

Provide the police with an anonymous tip- Called about a car accident both me and Allie witnessed. The driver ran into an electrical pole during a rainstorm.

Hitchhike

Dance in the pouring rain- When Robbie died, I was alone in the house and I listened to the Edward Scissorhands soundtrack while dancing out in the pouring rain on a summer afternoon, 2008.

Receive a dozen roses- For the first time from Hayden during Valentines day 2013.

Get drivers license- Licensed driver in NC since Summer 2008. I got my first car (a chevy Lumina) in summer fall 2009 for community college.

See the Ball drop for New Years in Times Square

Donate Blood- Donated blood fall 2013 and faint during a group fitness class the next day.

Witness a miracle

Get Contacts

See a muscial ON BROADWAY- Saw Mama Mia in New York on Broadway, spring 2009.

Make $10 dollars an hour- Myers Park Presbyterian, May 2015

Make $20 dollars an hour- Novant Health, July 2016

Make $50 dollars an hour

Ride in a horse and carriage

Have my fortune told

Own a diamond

Buy a piece of art from a street artist- Bought two prints from a street artist in New York after seeing Mama Mia on Broadway, Spring 2009.

Receive a love letter

Read a book to a child- Read a little readers book to my niece in Summer 2015 to help her with her homework. She is not very bright.

Play in the mud during a rainstorm

Have a snowball fight- Had one with Allie Amanda Honey, Ad, and Meg at their apartment when it snowed, spring 2014.

Go to Japan

Go to England

Go to Australia

Go to Greece

Read a work of fiction more than 300 pages long- Harry Potter, naturally. But I had read many long books (HP was just the first)

Smoke a joint- Smoked my first joint with Sean and Tyler at thier house on Farmpond road. I also got pulled over for speeding that night.

Drink champagne FROM champagne- My parents brought back Champagne from France and I had a glass when they opened it (Spring 2014). It tasted more or less the same as regular champagne.

Build a sandcastle WITH a moat- Built plenty of sandcastles with my father, the most notable one was a mayan temple we made in the Dominican Republic that a kid smashed once we had left.

Go camping. In a tent.- Camped with my dad in May 2015, and Nov 2015, and then again with Allie in Spring 2016, and again with Jaden and Allie in April 2017. I love camping.

Cook a meal over an open flame- Cooked my first meal over an open flame with my dad on our May 2015 camping trip. I even made the fire. It was hot dogs and baked beans.

Smoke a cigarette- Smoked my first cigarette with Cassidy and Lynn while staying up late on campus, Fall 2012.

Be someones brides maid or maid of honor - I was my sisters maid of honor!

Learn how to whistle with a blade of grass or an acorn top

Catch a fish- I caught my first fish with my father when I was about 11, and my second fish on my own with Meg on our second solo trip to Marion one weekend at the lake.

Drink Absinthe- Drank authentic Absinthe with India at her parents house in Asheville. It was bitter and made us sweat and text our exes.

Go to a drag show- Saw a drag show Dec 2011 with David, Jarrell, and Renee at Scorpios.

Watch a sunset, then stay up to watch the following sunrise- Did this with Cassidy, and Lynn on campus. We smoked cigarettes at sunrise, had waffle house at midnight, and drank orange juice at sunrise on east deck.

Meet a Drag Queen- Met a famous Queen City Drag Queen with Violetta at the annual summer heart walk in 2011. Also met two Drag Queens at pride 2016.

Go on a cross-country road trip (at least 3-5 states!)

Learn to surf

Volunteer at a soup kitchen

See gay marriage legalized in all of USA- June 26th 2015 :)

See marijuana become legal in my state

Bet on the Kentucky Derby

Cosplay

Break a world record

Open a Swiss bank account

Start a food fight

Go the wrong way on an escalator - I did this ONCE in New Jersey and I fell and busted my ass. I ripped open an injury on my knee. It was chaos.

Get buried in the sand- Got buried in wet, cold sand by Allie in Oct 2015 before our parents knew we were dating. It was so ridiculous and fun!

Sleep on a roof

Play hide and seek at night in a graveyard

Kiss someone underwater- Kissed Allie underwater at her friends pool. It was oddly difficult!

Go to a midnight movie premiere- Went to the midnight premier of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 with Liz, Pippin, and Zoe at Concord Mills. Many people dressed up, and there was a fan play before the screens came on. We made a lot of friends and the movie was amazing!

Buy something with all pennies

Be in 2 places at once- On our trip to Carowinds, me, Kat, Joey and Allie stood on the two state lines dividing North Carolina and South Carolina.

Ride on the top of a double decker bus in England

Dress up as Waldo and walk around a crowded place

Be in a musical

Have a song written about me

Ride a horse- I ridden a horse to a spa with my parents, but more recently I rode one of Megs quarter horses both times I came to visit her in Marion (once during Spring of 2013 with Cassidy, and Lynn, and another time during Summer 2013 with Kat)

Go to the spa

Have a pint in England

Go on a helicopter ride

Go to a Mardi Gras in New Orleans

See ‘the wizarding world of harry potter’ in orlando- My parents took me Dec 2013 to celebrate my making the Deans list for a year! It was wonderful, AND I got to meet my internet friend Krystal.

Go to a convention, of any sort- Went to Heroes con Summer 2011 with Raven, Pippin, and Zoe! I bought a batman shirt.

Go to San Diego Comic Con

Learn to make candles - I do this every fall now!

Solve the Rubik’s Cube

Go to a SuperBowl

Learn to sculpt with clay, throw pottery on the wheel- Beka taught me how to throw on the wheel during the Raku event in Fall 2015. Allie taught me how to hand build that same year. I prefer throwing.

Learn to knit

Join a roller derby team

Read every novel that has won a Pulitzer Prize in the Fiction Category

Read every novel in TIME’s most influential novels of the 21st century category

Have a threesome

Make a web comic - I made a web comic in 2017! I got 4 issues in before I realized this was NOT for me. Maybe I’ll try again!

Audition for American idol- Auditioned summer 2012. Did not get in, but had a blast!

Have a tea party with a child- Had a tea party with my nieces in Summer 2016 with my old tea set and yoohoo.

Try yoga (in a class)

See the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade

Try churros- Had Churros from the State Fair in 2013. I have loved them ever since.

Own a real fur coat

Have sex in public- Allie, Caleb, Jason :)

Eat a girl out- Allie :)

Try anal- Caleb :)

Play slots (gamble)

Adopt a kitten - I adopted Anders the same year we put Jinxie down. Hes my baby boy :)

See my name in the credits of something

Go on a blind date- I went on a date with Dale. We saw a movie and got Mexican food. It was awkward, and he kissed me like he was starving for attention back at his car.

Skip school- Me and Courtney skipped school during a fire drill (we escaped from the track where we were all being held). Another time with Renee where we went to the Bistro and said school let out early for exams (it had not.)

Witness someone die

Swim in the Atlantic Ocean- Myrtle Beach with Allie and Mariana, Spring 2013.

Swim in the Pacific Ocean - Did this when I saw Jaden! It was SO COLD!!

Make prank phone calls- Once with Violetta, Audrey, and David, we made prank calls until sunrise.

Laugh until some kind of beverage comes out of your nose- Did this once while eating at crown. It was orange juice.

Catch a snowflake on my tongue- Caught a snowflake on my tongue during the snow of Feb 2013 with my friends. We went outside at night while snowing so meg could get some snow for snow cream.

Write a letter to Santa Claus - I used to do this all the time as a kid. I never realized they probably didnt go anywhere.

Kiss under the mistletoe - Allie and I do this every year now. Its her favorite thing!

Blow bubbles in summer- I’ve done this many summers since the first time making this list in 2004.

Go to Disneyworld- On my freshman trip during high school, I got my first kiss from Kyle at Disneyland, during the fireworks event at the castle. Our friends had been tricking us into hanging out together all day, and mysteriously disapeared once the fireworks started. When Kyle kissed me, our friends reappeared an started clapping. A few teachers said it was about time. It was a good trip.

Ride on an elephant

Go water-skiing

See the Northern Lights

Swim in the Mediterranean- Swam on a rocky beach in 2009 while visiting Croatia. Dad tried to eat a raw sea urchin. It was a good vacation.

Have a one night stand with a stranger- Jason, Andy :)

Have one of my videos go viral

Own a Niner Nation shirt- AD gave me her stash of Niner Nation shirts and I think I wore them a grand total of once. My mom also bought me one when I graduated.

Eat at Bistro 49 at UNCC- The Dean of Students is a personal friend and took me here during my first semester in Spring 2012. I had a spinach salad because I wanted to be fancy and could barely choke it down.

Have a bake sale outside the Union- Had a Bakesale for PotterWatch in Spring 2013 with Mariana, Cait, and ANel.

See a concert on campus- Saw Motion City Soundtrack play in the Student Union during my first fall semester with ANel

Go see KEANE live

Go see Tswift Live- Went to my first Tswfit concert March 2013 with Meg and Kat after I had JUST broken up with Hayden. I had a GREAT time, and it was really uplifting.

Go to Amelie’s in the middle of the night.-Me and Cassidy went at 3am and talked to these two guys (both named Keith) til sunrise. It was so weird, but it was good conversation and I’m still friends with Kieth #2.

With friends, create photo evidence suggesting that you went on an adventure that didn’t really happen.

Build forts out of furniture and blankets, and wage war with paper airplanes.

Write a book.

Have that book published.

Play hide and seek in the park.

Drive somewhere unknown and have dinner in a city you’ve never been to. With fake names.

Get both a red card and a yellow card in quidditch- My first Yellow card was in our first game every at Blacksburg Brawl. I pulled a girls hair. My first Red card was at the Greensboro Gauntlet when I knocked a girl unconscious (I had to sit out for one game)

Play a movie you’ve never seen before. Set on mute and improvise dialogue.

Go to the airport, get the cheapest, soonest departing flight to anywhere when you show up, and stay there for a weekend.

In the Middle of the night, drive to the beach, so you arrive just as the sun is rising. Have a breakfast picnic, then fall asleep together. Bring a sun umbrella.

With camera and pair of boots, make photolog of a day in the life of the invisible man.

Write an autobiography

Make pressed flowers

Purchase a house- I bought my first house on September 16th 2016 at 3015 Summercroft Lane for 78k.

Own more than one housing property

Throw Tomatoes at La Tomatina

Visit Area 51

Solve a 100+ piece puzzle

Eat a meal in a really famous / expensive restaurant

Help a complete stranger in trouble

Get a Deep-Tissue Massage

Get a Volcanic Clay mud mask

Find my way through a hedge or corn maze

Ride in a gondola

Get Married

Go on a Cruise - Did this in 2018!

Fly first class

Help someone cross something off THEIR bucketlist

Learn the Thriller dance routine

See Wicked- Saw it with my Mom in March 2013 and it was JUST AS AMAZING AS I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE.

See the Phantom of the Opera- I saw it with Renee in 2010 and it was actually REALLY good!

Go to a real Ballet. Dress up.- Allie has taken me to 2 ballets, Peter Pan (March 2016) and Sleeping Beauty (2017)

Do the 365 day project (Take picture everyday)

Make a music video

Be able to do a split

Throw a surprise party for someone Did this for Allie in 2021! it was only a few people but she really was surprised.

Have a surprise birthday party thrown for you- Amanda Honey, and Allie got me to go outside in the snow while Meg stayed upstairs and baked me a cake! Then we all ate tacos and watched Game of Thrones. It was a REALLY good birthday, because of the snow and the surprise!

Sing at a Karaoke Bar- Sang ‘You Oughta Know’ at Jeffs Bucket Shop and dedicated it to every girl who has ever been cheated on by a guy. I got everyone cheering and singing along and Allie said it was the best performance of the night.

Audition for a game show

Attend a Murder Mystery Dinner

Ride a Cable Car in San Francisco - Did this during san fran pride when we all visited Jaden.

Visit Hershey’s Chocolate World

Take a Cooking Class

Visit Toys ‘R’ Us Times Square- Visited during my Senior field trip Spring 2009

Go to homecoming- The only UNCC football game I ever went to was Homecoming. I tailgated with my friends in Fall 2013.

Take a picture with UNCC mascot- Took one with Allie during Fall Fest 2014

Visit the botanical gardens on campus and Bonnie Cones Grave- I did this with Allie and Lucas Nov 2014 right before a graduated for good luck

Join an acapella group- Joined the Finer Niners in Sept 2013 after a girl interrupted quidditch practice to leave to go audition. I went with her with a few friends from the team and I was the only one who made it in.

#Bucket List

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delicadenza · 7 years

Text

little beast

Summary: Otabek looks at him, hands buried in his jacket pockets. He sees the ends of Yuri’s hair feathering downward past his shoulders, the sharp slant of his clavicle under his shirt collar, and a quarter to midnight looks, suddenly, so much more like dawn.

“You’re growing it out,” he says, when he’d only meant to say hello, because Yuri Plisetsky has taught him how to forget himself too.

Crossposted to AO3.

—-

Before all else, Otabek knows him as the boy who’s always saying “no.” In the dining hall, no, he doesn’t need to eat any more. In the dorms, no, he doesn’t miss home. At the barre, on the ice, no, nothing hurts. No, no, no, he can keep going.

Otabek is twelve this past fall. This boy can be no older than ten; he is small and fair and makes all the adults chase after him, fawning even as they fuss and scold. Little Yuri Plisetsky, whom no one seems able to speak about without superlatives—so golden and gifted, so beautiful.

From where he sits on the floor, waiting out a pulled muscle in one calf and the sharp stinging burn of shame in the pit of his chest, Otabek watches him dance. What he sees is not gold, but iron in a fire, being tempered into steel. Steel in the soles of his feet and his arms and his eyes. Nowhere more than in those eyes.

Somehow that, too, is beautiful, though the word itself hardly seems like enough.

—-

Otabek never learns to dance, but with each year that passes, he gets better at moving.

It had cut at him, at twelve, to leave Almaty for St. Petersburg. The whole city had cut at him, returning home to him in little shards, bright and hard-edged—orange and yellow tulips afire in the window of a flower shop, the jagged silhouette of a mountain range, the sun and eagle of the Kazakh flag embroidered in gold thread above his heart.

It takes him a year to learn that moving forward is easier than staying still when no return is possible. A year and a flight across the sea to Chicago, stretching the distance between himself and longing. Another two years to Toronto, and he stops looking back.

Before him—every year, every day—is Yuri Plisetsky, the same image somehow always repeating itself back to him, white-lit and wavering on computer screens and televisions. Rigid back, dagger-points of his shoulders hiked aggressively high, bright hair a signal fire.

The eyes Otabek doesn’t need to see. The eyes he remembers, and carries close to himself as he flies.

—-

“Yuri, get on.”

They’re fifteen and eighteen in the alley in Barcelona, and Yuri Plisetsky’s knuckles are white around the curves of a spare motorcycle helmet. He has the hood of his jacket dragged all the way down over his forehead and a body like a coiled wire, fighting and tensing and pulling itself ever more inward with every distant Yurochka, Yurochka.

Otabek already knows he’s forgotten. He’s been ready, all this time, to do the work of remembering for both of them.

“Are you coming or not?”

He half-expects a no, as the boy in his memories said no without hesitation to all such questions (Does it hurt? Are you hungry? Do you need help?), but in the intervening years Yuri seems to have learned there are many ways to do battle. He lowers his hood, sets the helmet on his head and buckles himself into it. He squares his shoulders and comes.

—-

The year after is Vienna, maybe. Or Brussels, or Dornach. The truth is it doesn’t matter beyond being a new place to be strange in—the place where they meet, and unravel the months in between.

Otabek knows his own mind. He knows his own keen memory, his focused attention, but somehow he always underestimates how much Yuri Plisetsky has to teach him about forgetfulness. They step into each other’s shadows and forget the name of the city, the words on the street signs, the curfew they’re both deep in the middle of breaking. It’s anything but an accident, this time.

Otabek looks at him, hands buried in his jacket pockets. He sees the ends of Yuri’s hair feathering downward past his shoulders, the sharp slant of his clavicle under his shirt collar, and a quarter to midnight looks, suddenly, so much more like dawn.

“You’re growing it out,” he says, when he’d only meant to say hello, because Yuri Plisetsky has taught him how to forget himself too.

“Beka.” Yuri’s voice is strident, fracturing—Otabek hears the warning bells go off inside his head, but his hand’s already reaching out, and Yuri’s hair is so many skeins of silk to touch. “I want—”

When his fingers glide through that hair and press in, digging into Yuri’s scalp, he thinks he ought to apologize. Except upon reflection Yuri’s somehow doing the same to him, but with considerably more nail, and anyway their mouths are somewhat occupied.

—-

And then, too quickly, they are seventeen and twenty and Otabek is on his back on the floor of a hotel room in Marseilles, and Yuri Plisetsky is—somewhere, above him, all around him. Roughing him up, seeking him out with his hands.

Yuri’s hair is long now, so long that when Otabek pulls it free of its ties it tumbles down in one surging wave—down toward his face and down until the ends of it pool on the floor, tangled and brilliant and impossible, impossible to see past—

“Let me look at you,” he says, the air he finds to get the words out nothing short of a miracle. He reaches out, half-blind, his hands going up into Yuri’s hair, parting it like a curtain to reveal his face.

Yuri’s chest is heaving, his eyes glassy, but he bends to the curve of Otabek’s palm.

“Fuck, Beka.” His lips part in one rattling inhale and then he’s laughing, the sound a lightning-crackle in the lightless room. “Your thumb got my eye.”

“Those are your elbows in my ribcage.”

It’s well worth the lancing pain, the breathlessness, when Yuri looks down and smiles.

“Let me look at you,” Otabek says, again, and draws him closer.

—-

“Are you sure?”

The question stands for many things at once—his hand on Yuri’s neck, the strands sliding and parting under his fingertips, the pair of scissor blades at rest, cold and flat against the plane of milky skin. “Here?”

“Higher,” Yuri says. Obediently the scissors lift, pause a mere two finger-widths below the earlobe.

“So, all of it?”

“I don’t need it anymore.”

(Nearly spring in Moscow, in the hallway bathroom in Yuri’s grandfather’s house, and maybe it’s no surprise, none at all, that Yuri would ask him to do something so singularly important on the night of his eighteenth birthday, no less—)

That’s all the answer there is. A handful of words, and Yuri’s eyes in the mirror, fixed and fierce and utterly impossible to deny, silencing all questions.

Otabek bows his head, measures out a length of hair between his fingers (hears other people’s voices saying silk thread, spun gold, sunbeams, entirely too much poetry in that hair for a boy who talks like the edge of a knife) and starts to cut.

—-

There’s a big stink about it on the Internet over the next few weeks, of course, a smattering of headlines appended with some out-of-focus photo of Yuri with his hood down, sun or streetlights on his close-cropped hair, the angle of his exposed nape.

Trust people to spin out the answers to their own questions when they find none. Yuri Plisetsky is troubled. Yuri Plisetsky is ill. Yuri Plisetsky is clearly heartbroken about—something. Or someone.

Yuri Plisetsky himself shows Otabek the articles, both of them sprawled on their stomachs across the bed he’s slept in all his life. Close to midnight and they’re laughing about it, pressing their faces down into the pillows so as not to wake Yuri’s grandfather, already asleep in the room down the hall.

“Trust people,” Yuri says, shaking his head until his bangs flop down over his eyes, “to lose all their shit over something so small.”

They’d lose even more shit, Otabek wants to tell him, already reaching out to brush the strands back, turn those eyes back up to the light, if they knew what it meant.

Instead he says, “It wasn’t a small thing.” Just as it’s no small thing to be a guest in this house. His eyes are on Yuri Plisetsky, barefaced and unafraid, head tilted back in the lamplight like a challenge. “It wasn’t a small thing, and neither are you.”

It’s the only truth that matters. Perhaps, too, this is all the answer they need—Yuri catching his wrist in one hand and pulling, head dipping down to press a kiss into the center of his palm. Otabek feels the shape of those lips etch itself out on his skin like a brand, because this is Yuri Plisetsky and the last word is always his, always.

“Neither are you.”

#rarepairsonice #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #otayuri #fanfic

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ricandhaiz · 6 years

Text

The Rose of Castile, Part 11 (Bad Omen)

“Where could he be?” Inés asked as she paced back and forth in her bedchamber. It had been hours since she and Don Corto had returned from San Zoilo. “He should be here by now.”

“Be patient,” Don Corto replied. “He’ll arrive when the time is right.”

Inés frowned. “What if he decides not to come at all?”

Don Corto shook his head. “For pity’s sake, why must you always assume the worst? He’s just learned of the deaths of his two niños (children). He’s likely in shock and deeply distressed. Perhaps he’s gone to a chapel to pray or taken his horse for a ride around Carrión to clear his head.”

“Do you think I should I wait for him in the courtyard?” Inés asked and then wrung her hands, adding, “Oh Papá, what should I…”

But before Inés could finish her train of thought, the sight of a hooded figure clad in black standing in the doorway behind Don Corto stopped her short. She put a hand to her mouth and gasped. Alarmed, her papá quickly turned to face the source of Inés’ apparent astonishment.

Raul stepped into the room with a weary gate and stooped shoulders. He looked pale and gaunt with blood shot eyes that were glued to Inés’ face.

Sensing Raul and Inés’ need to be alone, Don Corto bowed and said, “I will take my leave.”

Inés’ stomach was twisted in knots as watched her padre exit the room. As her eyes flitted back and forth between Don Corto’s receding figure and the haunted expression on Raul’s face, she found herself having to squelch the impulse to retreat or run away. Don’t be a coward, she scolded herself. Stay where you are and hear him out.

When Raul stepped toward her, she closed her eyes and braced herself for an impending blow, a sharp reprimand, or maybe even both. But to her surprise, he instead wrapped his arms around her in a fierce and impassioned embrace that nearly took her breath away.

“Inés,” Raul groaned again and again as he buried his face in her hair and wept. “I was so worried about you. I don’t know what would have become of me if I’d lost you too.”

Overwhelmed with love, remorse and pity, Inés kissed Raul’s tear-strewn cheeks and cried with him as they fell to their knees. For a long while, they simply held each other close until the worst of their outpouring of grief had passed.

At that point, Inés had worked up the nerve to ask, “So you’re not angry with me then?”

“Why would you think that?” Raul asked with a bemused look.

“For refusing to leave Cuéllar,” Inés said with downcast eyes. “If I’d only listened to you and Papá maybe Estela and Gonzalo would be with us now.”

Grabbing hold of Inés’ face, Raul replied, “Then I am just as much at fault as you are. You and Estela were in Cuéllar because that is where I wished for you to be.”

Inés furrowed her brow and sighed. “I’ve borne you three children in the five years we’ve been married. Our two hijos died at or near birth, and the only one that lived past her infancy just succumbed to an attack of the fever. You need an heir to pass your patrimonial lands and wealth to. What if I’m no longer capable of doing that?”

“If I am unable to have a hijo with you, then my line will end with me,” Raul replied, matter-of-factly.

“But why should you be penalized for my failures? That wouldn’t be right or fair. I could go away to a convent. You could marry again and have the hijos and hijas I couldn’t give you.”

Raul grasped her upper arms with an exasperated look and shook her as he said, “Hear me well and then we’ll speak of this no more. I love you. I always have, and I always will. You’re the one I want at my side and in my bed. If I can’t have you, then I will have no one.”

Inés nodded as she took his hand in hers and led him to the bed. A long interval of silence ensued as she cradled his head to her breast and gently stroked his back and arms. Finally, Raul spoke again. “I made for Cuéllar as soon as your padre’s messenger arrived. It had taken him a little more than a week to find me. The king’s army was en route to Coria from Toledo at the time. He told me of Gonzalo’s death and Estela’s illness. I immediately went to the king and asked him for leave to depart. He said yes and told me that the situation with the taifa king of Badajoz, al-Mutawakkil, was well in hand and that he himself was going to depart for the Rioja soon. He wished me well asked me to give you his regards.”

After a brief pause, Raul continued. “You and your padre had already left by the time my men and I arrived in Cuéllar. I spoke to Mencia at length about what had happened to our hijos. She told me how you refused to let go of Gonzalo after his passing and how you stayed by Estela’s side until the end.”

“She asked for you,” Inés replied, her voice quivering. “I told her over and over again how much you loved her and that you would’ve been there for her too if the king hadn’t called you away.”

“Did she suffer much?”

Inés nodded and squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to keep her tears from falling. “She fought it as long and as hard as she could. I prayed for a miracle but as the days wore on, it became clear to me that that cursed fever had no intention of loosening its stranglehold on her until she was dead.”

At that point, their conversation abated for a little while, each lost in thought. Finally, Inés asked, “Who else did you speak to while you were there?”

“I spoke at length with Ramiro. He told me of his efforts to keep the fever from spreading further and his attempts to assuage the concerns of the townspeople.”

“Did he tell you about what happened to innkeeper’s granddaughter, Maria?”

Raul nodded. “He said that credible accusations of witchcraft had been made against her.”

“She was no witch.” Inés was adamant. “What else did he say?”

“He said that she killed herself shortly after escaping from jail.”

“Do you believe him?”

Raul’s eyes narrowed. He looked up at her with a quizzical expression and said, “Do you have reason to doubt him?”

“The story of her escape makes no sense. Maria was slight and nearly a foot shorter than the jailer and the bars to her cell were thick.”

“How would you know that?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Inés confessed, “I went to see her after I heard what happened.”

Raul’s eyes widened in shock and surprise. “Inés…”

Inés placed a finger on his lips to stop him from saying more. “You were gone and… and I couldn’t just stand by and let an innocent girl be crucified by the Abbot and his angry disciples. She seemed frightened but not at all inclined to take her own life.”

“Well then, you will likely be pleased to hear that Abbot Pablo’s days of fearmongering and demagoguery are now at an end.”

“Has he been reassigned?” Inés asked hopefully.

“No. He’s dead.” Inés gasped. Raul continued. “From what I was able to gather, it appears that his death occurred under rather unusual circumstances.”

“How so?”

“I’m told that one of his servants heard him screaming in the night. And then, when she went to his bedchamber to check on him, she found his body curled up in one corner of the room. She claims that he looked as though he had died of fright.”

“Was he ill or had he been harmed in any way at the time of his death?”

Raul shook his head. “The servant swore that she neither heard nor saw anyone enter or exit the Abbot’s residence that evening. Ramiro also told me that his body showed no outward signs of violence.”

“That’s strange.”

“Ramiro also told me that there were those in the town who believe that Maria had come back from the dead to haunt him.”

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

“No. But there are many things in this life that do defy explanation. As for the Abbot, we may never know what truly led to his demise.”

Inés nodded and was quiet for a moment before she speaking again. “I pray that the next abbot will adhere to the tenants of his faith and be a much more faithful practitioner then his predecessor.”

“We can only hope,” Raul replied with a yawn as he laid his head upon her breast once more.

“Sleep now,” Inés said as she kissed the top of his head and wrapped her arms around him. “We’ll talk again once you’ve had the chance to rest awhile.”

Raul and Inés lived in seclusion in the Kingdom of Leon to mourn the passing of their children until December of 1079 when they attended the wedding of King Alfonso VI to Constance of Burgundy in Leon. They did not return to Cuéllar until the spring of 1080.

The sky was overcast and threatening rain when Raul and Inés arrived in town with a small contingent of knights and squires. Along the way, they were greeted by various town officials, including the town’s new merino, Gustavo García, and abbot, Carlos López, before retiring to their newly constructed living quarters in the citadel.

As Inés entered the courtyard, a great sadness fell upon her heart. She looked around and recalled how much Estela had enjoyed watching her “castle” being constructed.

“Are you all right?” Raul asked as he helped Inés dismount from her horse.

Inés bit her lip and didn’t answer at first. She took a moment to look around instead before she responded. “I think she would have approved, don’t you?”

Raul nodded. “There’s still years of work to be done on the fortress itself and the town’s defensive walls but it should suit our purposes well enough for the time being.” He then offered her his arm, adding, “Come, let’s go inside and get some rest before tonight’s festivities.”

“From what Gustavo said, it sounds like nearly every member of the town council and their esposas (wives) will be joining us for dinner,” Inés replied with a sigh.

Raul stopped in his tracks and furrowed his brow. “I can always arrange for them to come another day if you’re not up to entertaining anyone on your first night back in Cuéllar.”

“I’ll be fine,” Inés replied as she patted Raul’s arm. “I just need to discuss the menu with the cook and make sure that we have enough food and drink for all our guests.”

As expected, the Abbot and the town’s governing body arrived for dinner shortly after sunset. They were greeted by Raul and Inés at the entrance to the Great Hall. Each of them expressed their heartfelt condolences for the loss of the lord’s children as they entered the dining area. Once they were all seated, Abbot Carlos said grace after the servants finished setting dishes filled with roast chicken, fresh fruit, loaves of bread and pitchers of wine on the table.

Halfway through the meal, Gustavo, who was sitting to Raul’s immediate right said, “Your presence was greatly missed, my lord. And I’m sure that I speak for everyone here when I say that your impending return has been the talk of the town for weeks.”

“I’ve been very pleased with all the reports that I’ve received from you during my absence. You and the other members of the council have done an exceptional job of keeping the town moving in a forward despite the few setbacks it’s experienced in the last year or so.”

Gustavo took a sip of wine and smiled. “The fever killed nearly a quarter of the town’s population. Ramiro, God rest his soul, was one of the last to succumb to it. And that business with the innkeeper’s nieta (granddaughter)…”

Inés’ ears perked up at the sound of Maria’s name while the merino’s wife, Isabella, who was sitting to her left, crossed herself.

“Are you all right?” Inés asked.

“Yes, my lady,” Isabella replied. Her hands shook as she lifted a cup of wine to her lips. “I’m grateful that that whole ugly episode is now behind us. You were lucky to have missed all the hysterical gossip that spread about her for months after her death.”

“What were people saying? Please tell me. I’d like to know.”

Isabella glanced at Gustavo and then said, “Maria was rumored to have put a curse on the men who played a part in her arrest. For the most part, I try not pay attention to stories of that kind, but I must admit that the deaths of Abbot Pablo, Ramiro, and the jailer within weeks of Maria’s got me thinking that they might actually be true.”

“Or it could all just have been a coincidence,” Inés offered while masking her disdain of those men and the rumor mongers who had circulated what she believed had been an obvious lie. “Maria was never tried and convicted for the alleged crime of witchcraft.”

“That’s very true,” Isabella replied demurely. “Forgive me. I meant no offense by my words.”

“No apology is necessary. I was merely pointing out facts as they existed at the time of Maria’s death. Do you know what became of her family? Do they still live in town?”

Abbot Carlos, who was sitting across from Raul and Inés, said, “The innkeeper’s still running the Inn. I often see his sister, Cecilia, sitting by the front doors whenever I pass by. She arrived not long after Maria’s death.”

“That must have been the woman we saw when we passed the Inn,” Inés said and glanced at Raul.

“She keeps to herself for the most part,” Abbot Carlos said. “She’s barely said two words to me since I’ve been in Cuéllar.”

“Nor anyone else,” Isabella said with a snort. “Don’t you agree Gustavo?”

Rather than respond to Isabella’s question, Gustavo cleared his throat and said, “Speak no more of that woman and her family. Don Raul and Doña Inés have probably had their fill of this subject and are likely eager to move on to other topics. Let us oblige them and do so.”

With that said, the subject turned from Maria to issues such as the likelihood of incursions by Moorish forces into towns like Cuéllar and the state of its defenses at the present time. Gustavo, like his predecessor before him, assured Raul that everything humanly possibly had been done in his absence to fortify the town and train every able-bodied man for a possible attack. Raul, in turn, informed the members of the town council that he had received assurances from the king and Count Pedro that the fortresses at Tordesillas, Valladolid, and/or Peñafiel could be relied upon to reinforce Cuéllar’s militia if needed. Near the end of the evening, Raul invited Gustavo to meet with him in the coming days to go over his proposed plan to evacuate at least the women and children of the town if, in his estimation, the danger of being overrun ever reached a crisis point.

Once all the guests had departed, Raul took a horseback ride around town while Inés bathed and unpacked her things. Given the lateness of the hour, he encountered few people along the way. But as he passed the Inn, he came upon the old woman which his guests had alluded to at dinnertime. She was sitting alone in a chair beside the front doors.

“Good evening,” Raul said with a slight nod to the woman. At first, he wasn’t sure that she’d heard him. Thus, he moved a closer and repeated his greeting.

That time, the old woman looked up at him and smiled toothlessly as she said, “Same to you, my lord.”

“Do you know who I am?”

The woman cackled. “How could I not? There’s not a man or woman in town who wouldn’t know who you are. I saw you pass with your lady and your men-at-arms earlier today.”

“I’m afraid that I’m at a slight disadvantage since I don’t know your name.”

Again, she laughed. “My name’s Cecilia.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Is it now?” Cecilia replied slowly. “I’m sure that there are many others who would disagree with you.”

“Why so?”

“Because they’re small-minded and foolish. You must know about what these people did to my Maria. She was a good girl.”

“I did. My lady, Doña Inés, was quite distressed when she’d heard that Maria had died.”

“She’s a very pretty lady. You love her a lot...or so I’ve been told. You’re worried about her. I can tell. Maybe I can help.”

“And how would you do that?”

Cecilia motioned for him to come closer. “When the time comes, I will show you how.”

Just then, a gush of cold wind sprang up, nearly knocking him off Bandido while it neighed and pawed at the ground. He patted the horse’s neck to calm him down even though his own heart was now pounding in his chest. Who was this woman? And what, if anything, was she capable of?

“I should go now,” Raul said. “My lady is probably wondering where I am.”

“Good night then,” Cecilia replied with a knowing smile. “I’m sure that we will see each other again soon. Please give your lady my regards.”

“I will,” Raul said as he backed away. He then turned his horse in the direction of the citadel and galloped all the way home. Once there, he bounded up the stairs to his bedchamber and flung the door open. It was only upon seeing Inés kneeling by the bed in prayer that the irrational fear which had seized and propelled him to return with undue haste at last began to dissipate.

Raul swooped Inés up in his arms and held her tight. “Thank God you’re well.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Inés asked as she pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Did something happen to you while you were out? You look as white as a sheet.”

“Don’t mind me,” Raul replied slowly. “It’s nothing.”

Inés frowned. “Something’s amiss. What’s troubling you?”

Raul took a deep breath as he cupped her face with his hands and said, “I love you. There’s nothing more important to me in this world than you are. God help me, but I think that I might even make a deal with the devil himself to keep you safe from harm.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you or me,” Inés replied. “Have faith, mi amor, and rest easy. All will be well.”

#hailee steinfeld #ricardo gomez #romance #love story #horror #historical fiction #medieval #reconquista

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michaelbartram · 7 years

Text

Illusion

Chapter 1

(Preceded by Prologue, posted below. Read this first if you haven’t already.)

Claudio heard about Arcadia from his old school friend Lazar.

He remembered Lazar as slim and pale. Then one afternoon, on his way to a favourite second-hand bookshop, Claudio saw walking towards him a plump, bearded man. By instinct Claudio looked away. He didn’t say to himself: ‘Lazar. Avoid him.’ There was no time for that. Already his old friend had passed before he breathed, ‘Mi Dios!’

Claudio kept on, not turning his head. He had no need to check anyway. It was Lazar. No doubt of it. Iron Maiden T-shirt. The flushed face and tangled hair. Above all the eyes, those miss-nothing blue eyes.

Claudio walked on, away, as he thought, from the complication. A tap on the shoulder electrified him. The finger of God, or the devil. He saw the cracked pavement, the rubbish in the gutter, the cheap goods in the shop windows as if for the first time. He turned to face a grinning Lazar.

‘You thought you could get away with that, did you?’

‘Oh… No… I…’

‘Yes, you did,’ said Lazar ‘You looked away and hoped I’d miss it.’

Helplessly, Claudio shook his head. ‘Lazar… what can I say?’

Lazar patted Claudio’s arm. ‘Never mind. Where are you living these days anyway?’

‘In San Telmo.’

‘Well, well! Me too… anyway, near enough.’

Claudio nodded warily. Again, Lazar’s grin. ‘Look at you, Claudio, standing there in your English jacket clutching a book. What are you reading these days? I hear you’re a poet. Hombre de letras.’

Claudio wondered whether to ask Lazar what happened to the ambitious novel he’d been writing in the old days but decided against. He wanted the encounter over.

‘Well,’ said Lazar, ‘perhaps we’ll bump into each other again, in San Telmo, or thereabouts.’ He looked steadily into Claudio’s eyes. ‘I hope so, Claudio. I do hope so.��

They shook hands, said good-bye and that, for the moment, was that.

But a few months later, in early summer, the further encounter Claudio dreaded came to pass. Lazar was cycling past Claudio’s flat.

‘Claudio!’ Lazar called above the noise of the traffic. He pulled his bicycle into a narrow doorway. Claudio hovered out on the pavement. A road drill started up.

‘It’s quieter here,’ Lazar shouted. ‘Cars! Autogeddon, eh?’

Lazar beckoned. Still Claudio hung back. Lazar watched him from his niche, grinning. ‘Anyway,’ he called, ’I’m on my way to see you.’

‘Really?’ said Claudio. ‘How did you know my address?’

Lazar’s answer was hard to hear. The drill numbed Claudio’s brain, He wished the traffic would pull Lazar away in its wake. ‘I’m rather busy just at the moment,’ Claudio shouted.

Bicycle in tow, Lazar stepped out. ‘It’ll only take a minute… if I can just pop up.’

Claudio glanced across at the elegant but dilapidated mansion block across the road. ‘OK, but my girlfriend is working at home. We mustn’t disturb her.’

The unlikely pair, one dapper, the other down-at-heel, jaywalked across the street. Lazar chained his bicycle to a jacaranda and they went in.

‘Hola! sweetie,’ Claudio called, ‘I met someone.’

‘Sorry,’ said Felicia, looking up briefly from her computer, ‘things are mad here. Wall Street’s in a tail spin.’

Lazar stood in the doorway. In Felicia’s glance Claudio thought he saw suspicion of his old friend’s beard and worn jeans. One of the local homeless. Dragging him in here? I don’t need this.

‘Do you remember Lazar?’ said Claudio. ‘I told you about him.’

‘Er…’

‘A representative figure, an influence, though not on me, I hasten to say. I was always too…’

Lazar supplied the word: ‘Reactionary?’

‘Come on, Lazar. I’m a liberal. Perhaps we might both agree I was basically non-political.’

‘No such thing,’ came from the doorway. How quickly the smouldering coals of ancient differences had flamed.

Felicia glanced at Lazar for the second time and shook her head. ‘No, I don’t remember…’

‘Don’t let me disturb you,’ said the visitor, arm raised. ‘Is there another room? I won’t stay long.’ He leant towards Felicia. ‘But if you’re stressed out you might be interested in what I came here to tell Claudio.’

He laughed, a forced, ugly laugh that broke the interior calm. Felicia smiled and went back to her screen.

‘Never mind,’ said Lazar, ‘I’ll tell him and he can tell you.’

Through in the kitchen-diner Claudio overcame his nerves and his distaste by preparing maté and making small talk. ‘Felicia is making money via the great whore, the computer, or trying to. It’s hard. She’ll get there if she keeps at it. But she only goes in bursts.’

‘She’s a charming girl.’

Claudio shrugged modestly. Lazar sat down on a chair which creaked under his weight. ‘Claudio, my old friend, to cut to the chase, can you take a holiday?’

‘We might do something at the last minute.’

‘Let me tell you about Arcadia,’ said Lazar.

‘Arcadia?’

‘A place in the mountains way up in the northwest near the border. A kind of retreat. It’s run on holistic, environmental principles.’

Claudio winced. Preparing the maté with his back turned, he reached for the gourd, his thin poet’s fingers toying agitatedly with the bombilla.

This is the old Lazar. He comes at you with half-baked schemes and tries to make you feel bad – ‘reactionary’ – if you turn him down. It’s all so adolescent. As if only he has found the true path and you’ve sold out.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ came from behind. ‘This is some boring hippy commune. Believe me, Claudio, I wouldn’t be wasting my time talking to you of all people if that were the case. This is far from being a commune. Let me tell you, this place was made for you. It’s luxurious, grotesquely luxurious you might say.’

Just as Claudio turned, curiosity mildly piqued, Lazar changed the subject.

‘Domesticity suits you,’ he beamed. ‘I half-wish I could settle myself but you know how it is. We freer spirits resist the pull of convention.’ He took the gourd proffered by Claudio and sucked the bombilla. ‘Well, however comfortable you are, I’m sure like everybody else you need a break at this time of the year.’

‘Maybe.’

‘I’m sure of it,’ said Lazar passing the gourd back to Claudio, who re-filled it and said, ‘I’ll just take this through to Felicia.’

Returning, Claudio left the door ajar since he liked to observe the sun drop over the dusty rooftops through the window in the next room, above where Felicia was working.

‘Spectacular,’ said Lazar.

‘What?’

‘Seeing the late afternoon sun, I’m reminded how it falls over the turrets of Arcadia. The thing about Arcadia is… is… the isolation, the wildness of the nature all around, the barren mountains and…’ – he paused dramatically – ‘… the key point.

‘Mm, the key point. What might that be?’

‘Something, let me tell you, right after your own heart.’

‘Really.’

‘No machines, Claudio. No machines… Machines are the death of us... You and I can surely agree on that.’

Claudio nodded reluctantly.

‘That apart,’ continued Lazar, ‘imagine turrets, mullioned windows, balconies: a miracle of art and nature such as only Renaissance Italy or a Chinese emperor might have dreamt up. An avenue lined with Lombardy poplars lead to a grand sculpted entrance. There are Dutch gardens with statues, colourful borders, peacocks. Beyond, a lake with flamingos, a summerhouse. It’s like a picture on an old Chinese plate. A line of mist separating the lake and the mountain peaks. The condor hovers high above.’

‘Have you any photographs of this wonder?’

Lazar hadn’t, but to make up for it he was willing to sound more and more like a travel agent.

‘Your quarters are en suite. All the rooms face the sun. Wow! The view! Inside Persian rugs run the length of panelled corridors, banisters curl down elegant stairways. The climate is excellent by the way. Arcadia is an oasis in the semi-desert of the Andean foothills. The vegetation is kind of… English. The garden was laid out in the English style by Charles Thays. Lawns surrounded by clipped box hedges, and so on. You get elms and oaks, and hawthorn in the spring.’ Lazar smiled. ‘You’ll come, Claudio! Eh?’

Claudio had no inclination to take up anything connected with Lazar. ‘Well, for myself, maybe,’ he lied, ‘but I can’t imagine Felicia signing up to something like that in a hundred years. She hates going out of town. Her idea of a holiday is a resort with discos and high-rise hotels. I…’ He broke off.’ And what is your connection with the place?’

‘Let’s say I help promote it.’ Lazar looked embarrassed. ‘One question.’

‘Go ahead?’

‘Just suppose you were to come – you will in the end, I know – do either of you do drugs?’

‘Drugs?’ blustered Claudio, thinking of Felicia’s cocaine habit. ‘You were the only person who ever got me interested in drugs, Lazar. We drink wine of course. I have the occasional whisky.’

‘Ah… Now that’s a thing. If you went to Arcadia, would you mind not drinking? Alcohol is right against what they are trying to achieve.’

‘It’s academic since I can’t see us going there, but I’m no alcoholic, I would survive – though I can’t say teetotalism exactly enhances the appeal of this holiday home you’re offering us. As for Felicia,’ he added, with partial truth, ‘her drug is ambition. Her school friends are bankers. She feels she’s lost out. Now it’s the banking system, Reuters, futures – whatever they are – Tokyo, Hang Seng, God knows what…’

‘So with you two it’s high culture versus the casino, is it?’

Claudio laughed ruefully. ‘Up to a point. At the moment I’m the one with the money. I bought that damn computer. Second-hand, still… She’s broke, poor dear.’

Felicia glided in. She had showered and changed into a lime green silk gown which flattered her figure and signified the end of her day’s labours.

‘How do you decide what to take to Arcadia?’ she asked.

‘Felicia!’ exclaimed Claudio. ‘You’ve been listening.’

‘Sure, the door was open, and now I know how you talk about me behind my back, Claudio. Don’t worry, Mr High Culture. You’ll get your money back from me. I’m a good investment.’

‘Oh, come on, Felicia…’

Lazar repeated in brief what he had already told Claudio about Arcadia, wrote down a few details and at last, to Claudio’s intense relief, got up to leave.

‘Hey, you two,’ he said. ‘Arcadia. Don’t forget. You have a week or two to decide. I’ll be back in touch. You’d kick yourselves to miss it. Especially you, Claudio. You hate this century. You were born to live in a previous one, and here’s your chance!’

Claudio smiled thinly.

Suddenly he saw an opportunity to knock the idea on its head. Leaving Felicia, he went with Lazar to the lift. As they stood on the darkened landing and the ancient conveyance trundled up the shaft he whispered to Lazar, hardly concealing his urgency. ‘Felicia may seem keen, but she’s terribly impulsive and wayward. She’ll change her mind in the morning.’

Then like a bad actor, he slapped his thigh. ‘Ah, besides, Lazar, I’ve just remembered. I can’t. I don’t know how I could have forgotten. It’s my uncle’s golden wedding. Big family party. We’re off to a place near Mendoza. Clearly with the expense, that’ll have to be our holiday this year.’

The lift arrived. Lazar hopped in. The door slid shut on a final grin and a wave. ‘I’ll be in touch, eh Claudio?’

Claudio raised his arm. ‘N… no… I don’t think…’ But the door was shut.

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