We find many kinds of love in this world, and nothing is ever what it seems. This IS a love story, but not the traditional boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, they live happily forever after kind. Although boy does meet girl.This is the kind of love story you won’t see coming, but remember this; I did warn you.
Once upon a time there lived a young woman with long and wavy raven coloured hair, as black as the night. Her eyes were as as light as a tiger’s, and as fierce to behold, if they happened to hold your gaze. Great power was held within their amber depths. She lived a quiet yet tumultuous life in a little fisherman’s village at the end of the middle of nowhere. She was a shy yet courageous young woman, with a sharp mind and a quick wit. And although she had much to say about everything that spun in the world, she kept to herself most of the time, preferring the company of stable trees who never went anywhere, and strong mountains, that never crumbled, and seas that never apologised for their mood swings, to the company of people, the only race who knew good and evil, who could leave, crumble, and rage. However, she was not altogether alone, because she had a black cat, with white paws, half a white smile and large orb like green eyes, her cat followed her everywhere, keeping up a non-stop stream of meows as they went. He kept her warm on dark rainy nights when the storm was both raging outside in the velvet black of night, and inside, in the velvet black parts of the young woman with the raven hair’s heart.
She was a beautiful woman, in an unusual, breath taking sort of way, though she didn’t know it, nor did she care for such frivolities. She had too much else to think about, like trolls and bridges and riddles. Destiny, magic and other peoples thoughts. And also, the little voice in her head, a childhood ‘friend’ who liked to toy with her light. For she was a light hearted woman most times, and good, to boot.
One fine summers day, as the sun shone brightly down for all to enjoy, the raven haired beauty realised with a painful jolt that she didn’t know who she was any more. In the sunlight, she felt no warmth. There were cold questions scratching the black board of her mind. She couldn’t decide between the dark and the light, and was awfully tired taking sides to begin with. And although she had a boyfriend (she always did), his company never felt quite right, and she could never express her confusion or ask her questions, and therefore she felt all alone in the world. With no way forward.This frustrated her to no end, for deep down, beyond the black board, in a secret placeless place, was the knowledge that she was here for a reason. What that reason was remained hidden. All in all she was not in a good place. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, was she. But she knew this much; change was calling her name. So she decided to quit her dead end job as a waitress in a little restaurant by the sea, dramatically, of course, because she always had a flair for the dramatics, feeling as deeply as she did, by storming into the managers office, telling him off for being an awful crook (and although this was not a very nice thing to do, the raven haired beauty never told lies), dropping her key in his lap, and then storming right out. It may not have been raining that day, but it was in her heart, and in her eyes. She then proceeded to try and break up with her boyfriend, a chef at the establishment she had just resigned from, but he wouldn’t let her. He thought her fligthty and capricious, endearingly so. And did not want to give up on her, as she was great company to be around, always having him in stitches with laughter, caring and kind, and a freak in the bedroom to boot. Plus… she was something to look at. Frustrated by his resilience though she was, she decided he was just the right amount of romantic and crazy to keep around.
A few days later she found herself without a job and therefore without any money. And still she had not found her purpose in life. But she felt it there, knocking at the door. She just didn’t have the key. The knocking became more and more persistent as the days trickled by, like sand through an hour glass, they fell, one grain n top of the other, filling her with dust, and soon she could not take the banging anymore. Wading through the sand, She pulled herself up, dusted herself off, and went job hunting. She found an opening in the local mall, at her favourite family restaurant. They served the best burgers in town and sang happy birthday to the children with a jig and sparklers. It seemed like a nice place to spend her wasted time. A distraction from the ever persistent questions that life brings. What is the meaning of this, who am I, what must I do to find the answers, where am I meant to be, what am I doing with my life? You see, she was a rather special someone, with the gift of the gab and an imagination that rivalled if not surpassed j.r.r tolkein, although she could never imagine that being the truth. And she was genuinely kind, compassionate and empathetic to others, as she understood more than she understood. And she had gifts and miracles to give. But who to give them to, and how, had her up at night.
She got the job instantly, much to her surprise, as everyone she interviewed with had much more experience in the service business than she. But there weren’t many attractive people wanting to be waiters at such an establishment, and she did look a little like a red Indian, which had her fitting right in, as this was a cowboy and indian themed restaurant.
And so she began the monotonous and hum drum job of waiting on others. Granted, this got her out of her shell, as she was forced to speak to people.
Whilst in training, behind the dessert bar, in a hair net, and feeling very uncomfortable under the florescent lights, the passing waiters greeted her and chatted her up. Wanting to know all about her and why she wanted to work in such a dead-end place. This made her feel all the worse but she kept her sense of humour gracefully. Still they asked her why she was so quiet, and wondered what went on behind those moving eyes and little smiles. But she would never tell, how she saw everything and everyone for what they were before they opened their mouths to tell her. It was a rather ironic gift she had, really, she knew everything about everyone but herself. She could sometimes hear thoughts from miles away. Little sentences that could almost be her own, but the voices were different, so she knew they couldn’t be. Most of the time she ignored them,but sometimes, when they were about her, or mean, or secrets, she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stop listening. As she watched the waiters dance and shout and smile, she felt herself relax, no one had dark secrets here.
At the end Of her first day as an official waitress, she went to the bathroom to take off her hair net and shake out her glossy main. She took off her uniform and put on her jeans and a flowy black t-shirt. She slipped into her red leather jacket, and swung the door open to leave, but was stopped in her tracks; The mens bathroom was right next to the woman’s, and leaning against the wall was a beautiful young man. He had a chiselled jaw, and deep blue eyes, with a half smile playing on his cheeky mouth. His nose was straight and his sandy coloured hair swept across his forehead. He was a god. And he was gaurded. He exuded confidence, but nothing else. She had seen him around. Even day dreamed of him once, when her and her family had come to dinner, before she had started working there. And one of her ex boyfriends was his friend.it was a small world indeed. she blushed, shied by his ease in himself. but still, she looked straight into his eyes and his crooked smile became a real beam. He introduced himself, holding out his nimble fingers and when they shook hands, they didn’t let go for almost too long. His hand was so warm, and hers so cold. Fire and ice, she thought to herself. Another thought that floated through her mind was that she could not hear his thoughts at all. He was a closed but beautifully bound book. Curiouser and curiouser. However, there was no darkness to him, and his easy and confident way of speaking relaxed her. He invited the raven haired beauty to join him and a co-worker for a smoke underground. Delighted, she nonchalantly agreed. Her stillness took him by surprise. Pleasantly so, as he was used to woman falling all over him. And he always had to pick up their pieces.
They all took the elevator together, and she stood too close to him, as if that was just where she was meant to be. He complained there was no elevator music, took out his phone and pressed play. The song that echoed through the elevator was her favourite song, Perth by an almost unknown band named Bon Iver. His lyrics were almost unintelligible but his music said It all for him.
Iʼm tearing up, across your face
Move dust through the light
To find your name
It’s something faint
This is not a place
Not yet awake, I’m raised of wake
Still alive who you Love
In a mother, out a moth
Furling forests for the soft
Gotta know been lead aloft
She quietly told him how she loved this band. He was impressed she knew such an underground band, as most people he met were only interested in commercial music, and although he did not tell her as much, this music was his only way of expressing his true and somewhat sad self, he had worn a mask so long that it had become his face. He loved how she said the name in a French accent unknowingly. The name meant good winter. her voice sent wintry chills down his rocky spine. They reached the underground parking space and sat on the asphalt as he smoked a cigarette. She forgot all about the other co-worker, a Christian girl who was sweet and funny, with large breasts and a thick accent. They spoke of music, and found that they shared many of the same musical interests, which was rare for the raven haired beauty, as she liked music that was not oft heard by the masses. Songs of sadness and haunting truth. The way he explained the songs, with such love in his words, had her loving him. Lightly, of course.
From then on, everyday at work, they grew closer. She loved to watch him with the customers, as he was always happy, entertaining and delightful. With an eccentric flair and a trickster persona. He was the opposite of her, who wore her heart on her sleeve and silence on her tongue. She made others nervous. He made everyone comfortable. They all wanted to talk to him and requested him as a waiter. She was mysterious, off hand, but kind, and intelligent, and he felt drawn to her in an almost telepathic kind of way. He felt her. Because her surface was his inside. One day a man and his children came in to the restaurant and asked for a table with a sea view. Of course this was meant as a joke as they were in a mall, but the young man, lets call him Romance, drew a giant “C” on a piece of paper and stuck it to their booth. The raven haired beauty, lets call her Raven, found this to be a very endearing quality and decided she really liked him. She was determined to know all that went on behind the pretty face.
Now if you remember Raven had a boyfriend, although she never felt as if she did. She was a free spirit, more in touch with the sky than with man. None of them matched her in mind or heart or soul, so she toyed with them, and gave them love when she could, but never her heart. One summers night, hidden under the roof of the restaurant, after much flirting, questions and competitions over who could do the best money-wise, for the night, Romance invited Raven to smoke some marijuana with him and his friends in a spot overlooking the pier, high up on the Old Way Mountain road. Together they stole balloons, pink and red, but he wouldn’t tell her what they were for. He waited for her while she called her boyfriend, who was supposed to be fetching her from work. She explained she would be late, and why. For Raven was always honest. Or as honest as she could be. No longer was she wondering who she was or what she was doing. When those questions arose she saw Romance’s cooky smile and his silent eyes and his expressive words and she felt a semblance of peace. Her boyfriend was not happy with her, but he knew that trying to tell her what to do would only drive her into his competitions arms. For he was a man and knew what Romance was up to. Even though Raven had no clue that her ever growing feelings were mutually exclusive. She was wise, but ever so naïve when it came to matters of the heart.
They drove to the secluded spot, cramped together in a car, with all of his noisy male friends, one of which was a co worker who she got along with. The music was loud, vibrating through her, electrifying her awake. Romance was the centre of attention. She melted into his side silently. She had no words for this occasion. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, as the lights of cars flashed by, and saw no human next to him, but an angel, hair lit up like a halo, and shadows under her eyes. When they reached their destination they all gathered around in a circle, and passed the joint around. Raven had been smoking for a few years already and enjoyed inhaling the smoke into her lungs, wish washing it down, letting it settle in her gut, watching it exhale into the city skyline beyond. Romance brought out the balloons they had stolen and showed her how to blow smoke into them, capture the smoke, and then exhale it all at once. It left her light headed. Although there were many people at the looking point that night, Romance and Raven were in a world of their own. They stood closely side by side, with no need for words, mulling over the shared and settled silence, looking at the lights of their home town. She heard none of his thoughts, but the musings of his friends were clear, they noticed the two together, and wondered what sexual activities Romance had performed on her already. She shook off these silly thoughts with a knowing smile.
Raven felt like in this moment, she would give a little of her heart to this man, the only one who could quiet its rapid beating.
After that night, work was a fun and easy place to be in, but it was also heavy with things unsaid. Every glance across the room was dripping with desire, every word uttered was said in urgency, and all day every day Raven longed to tell Romance her thoughts on little silly matters. She longed to break her silence. Never before had she cared enough to share her inner musings, but here was this man, silent in thought, opening her heart, her mouth, her eyes. They spoke of many things, likes and dislikes, fears and secrets, past and future, dreams and desires, although never of their desire for each other. There was another girl, with large eyes and a neat figure, in the fish restaurant across the way, who Romance had been involved with, although he spoke dismissively of her, confiding in Raven that he used her and she used him and there was no connection, only physical attraction. He came to work ith bite marks on his neck. Raven wanted to kiss the marks better. They looked painful. The fish girl was always staring at them jealously. Her big eyes in slits. Raven couldn’t feel jealous because she had a boyfriend. Although that boyfriend had noticed Raven was changing. She was brushing her lustrous black hair and trying to look nice and she couldn’t help but speak of Romance as he was all that was on her mind. She may have been blind, but he was not. So trouble in ‘paradise’ loomed as he became possessive, jealous, nasty, and almost violent in his love making, scaring Raven even farther away.
One work night Raven was staring at the LCD Order screen trying to log in food orders, but didn’t know where to look. Often she would ask Romance to help her but he was on the other side of the restaurant, helping out some customers. She said his name, lovingly, under her breath anyway, staring at him, and lo and behold, he looked up, excused himself, and crossed the expanse of the restaurant to ask what she needed. He told her he heard her. Which was impossible, as it was a whisper and they had been so far away. This spooked them both. Their connection was more than flesh and bone, it was magic and soul. They were destined for each other. There was no question about that. the only question was, why?
This scared Raven, as she was not accustomed to feeling such reliance on anyone else. Nor had she ever had her thoughts so full to the brim with another’s face. She went home that night, shaken and afraid. She had been hurt as a child, and as a young teenager, by the idea of love, and had thrown all her love into things like trees and animals and knowledge, who could not hurt her. Now she was turning her back on her rule, to never let her guard down, to never let anyone in. For she so desired to let him in. And it was unacceptable! She dreamt vividly that night…
She was following Romance along a wooden bridge, up crumbling stone steps and onto a sweet little front porch with a drooping willow tree in its middle. There sat Romance, at ease and smiling his half smile, and he looked into her eyes and said these words; ‘the meaning of life is in living.’
She woke up with a start, and felt her heart’s wings beating hard against her rib cage. She wanted desperately to let it free. And she now had the key. So she granted herself her wish, and let herself live. She let herself engage and participate in her own destiny. She forgot all about her boyfriend and right then and there, with sleep still in her eyes, she picked up her phone and called Romance, inviting him over for a walk in nature, to her favourite place in the world, a secret space she had never shown anyone else: passed the light house, into the forest, where there was a wooden board walk and a large rock, sheltered by trees, to sit on. He agreed and arrived that day, as it was both of their days off.
She met him at the little local shop, he had come on his blue and orange motorbike. She hopped on the back, and put her arms around him as they drove to her house. He smelt of leather and cigarettes. They dropped the bike off at home and went to the beach, where the board walk started. It lined the edges of the unbridled ocean. They walked and talked. Of childhood loves. His being bugs, hers being birds. They spoke of loves lost in terms of relationships, and she learnt he had been in love but once. She explained her relationship as best she could. How he was a dear friend and she loved him but wasn’t in love with him. How he never listened to her or took her seriously and how sometimes he was downright cruel. How she felt trapped. Romance soaked it all up and there was never a moments silence between them. which was a first, as they had lived off each others silence for months. They came to the large rock and sat down next to one another, facing the sea. she told him of her dream. Romance proclaimed that she spoke beautifully and asked her what she felt the meaning of life was. he liked her idea; that there was more. That we co created life. That there was magic in nature and animals and feelings. And that nothing was what it seemed to be. He revealed to her how he wished they lived in a different world, where all was equal and all was free. He shared his heart ache; how he was all alone, and how he hid behind his sense of humour, but inside, nothing was funny. He could never express his darkness for fear of being rejected. Everyone relied on him to be the life of every party, to be perfect, and he was exhausted. But too afraid to reveal his true colours. They had warped him into forgetting his and everyone elses human-ness. She saw them that day, his true colours; a kaleidoscope puddle, almost reverent, and was humbled. She began to prod his mind, feeling for soft spots, she loved that she was the one to find them, fresh and clean, ripe for the picking. The joint wouldn’t light but they both felt high enough.
Up and up they went as time went by. Soon after their day on the rock by the sea, Romance invited Raven after work to take a ride with him to his favourite spot. First they had a casual dinner at Mc Donalds and joked about, avoiding the subject of being alone, and loving it. He then stopped to get chocolate.
It was dark and cold on the highway, icy wind whipped Ravens hair this way and that, stinging her cheeks, but she liked the pain, it reminded her where she was and who she was with. As they drove, he gave her his ear phones and played her beautiful music as they sped past her friends, the mountains. He put her cold hands in his front pockets, and although it was dangerous, he drove with only one hand so he could hold hers. She felt little sparks ignite as their flesh touched. She stroked his long fingers until they got there. It was a wall on the edge of a mountain, over looking the sea and the city lights. He came up here to not-think, he told her. They sat together, but slightly apart, and ate sweet chocolate, in silence, as his music filled the air with a haunting reverie-melody.
I’m just a normal boy
That sank when I fell overboard
My ship would leave the country
But I’d rather swim ashore
Without a life that’s sadly stuck again
Wish I was much more masculine
Maybe then I could learn to swim
Like ‘fourteen miles away’
You’re floating up and down
I spin, colliding into sound
Like whales beneath me diving down
I’m sinking to the bottom of my
Everything that freaks me out
The lighthouse beam has just run out
I’m cold as cold as cold can be
be
I want to swim away but don’t know how
Sometimes it feels just like I’m falling in the ocean
Let the waves up take me down
Let the hurricane set in motion
Let the rain of what I feel right now…come down
Let the rain come down
Where is the coastguard
I keep looking each direction
For a spotlight, give me something
I need something for protection
Maybe flotsam junk will do just fine
The jets, I’m sunk, I’m left behind
I’m treading for my life believe me
(How can I keep up this breathing)
Not knowing how to think
I scream aloud, begin to sink
My legs and arms are broken down
With envy for the solid ground
I’m reaching for the life within me
How can one man stop his ending
I thought of just your face
Relaxed, and floated into space
Now waking to the sun
I calculate what I had done
Like jumping from the bow
Just to prove I knew how
It’s midnight’s late reminder of
The loss of her, the one I love
My will to quickly end it all
So thought no end my need to fall
Into the ocean, end it all
sung sleepily into their ears.
She listened intently, knowing the song was for her and about him…
Slowly but surely, like magnets, unbeknownst to them, they moved closer to one another… he put his arm around her, and the soft warm weight had her giddy, but she had also never felt so solid, so in the moment, so alive. Slowly, ever so slowly, but surely, surely…as if all on their own, with a force beyond logic pulling the strings, their faces turned towards each other until their cold noses were touching. Deep longing settled in her gut, and her thighs felt as if they’d burst into flame. They stared into one another’s eyes in the dark, and instead of kissing with lips, they kissed with souls. Every story untold spilled into one colourful puddle as they gazed upon each other, and knew everything and nothing all at the same time. Breathing became heavy and noses became warm, and it was so intense and so rich with life, that they didn’t need to kiss at all.
When he dropped her off, he got off his bike and enveloped her in a long, warm embrace. He didn’t want to let go. He had never felt at home until now. Never in his life. he had never felt so human. she allowed him the space to be. He drove home in awe, with no thought, but one; of her eyes finding his.
When he arrived at his house he saw all his clothes lying on the front yard, splayed everywhere. This was just another typical night at his house. He was unwelcome by his step mother, and she made it very clear. Instead of picking all of his clothes up like he always did, and going on inside to take more abuse, hiding behind a smile, he flung himself to the grass with a sigh and stared up at the stars, each one reminding him of the light in Raven’s eyes, and he didn’t feel so alone anymore. He called her up and told her what he was doing, admitting weakness for the first time in his life. Her voice was like music to his ears, and she sang him into calmer waters. He insisted they see one another again, and soon.
They continued to work side by side in the restaurant, goofing off and helping finish one another’s duties. Any way they could make it easier for each other they did, and quickly, making a game out of who could help who the most. Needless to say they were always in good spirits. They became powerful in their shared happiness and love. But they never spoke of their shared night that was almost spiritual. They never needed to speak. Silence said it best. The craving to see him at every hour was almost unbearable. And so, soon after, she invited Romance over to her place. She still had a boyfriend, but Romance couldn’t care less about the fact. They lay next to one another in her blue room on her white bed and listened to sweet melodies. They held hands and felt something unseen joining within both of them. Raven, having seen and known magic all her life, expressed that she could see colours, twirling like DNA between their hands. And he replied; pink and red. Those were the colours she had seen. In surprise, they kissed for the first time that night. Raven saw things in her mind when they kissed. Flowers and roads and unexplainable moments in time. Sunshine and truths. They kissed for so long they forgot to breathe. They were shaking, glued to one another, gasping for breath and more.
When he left, she felt awful, which was unexpected. But her moral compass had pointed her in a direction she could no longer ignore. She had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who knew her and put up with her crazy. For she was a little crazy. Or rather, sensitive to the world. and Romance didn’t know that. She hadn’t told Romance of her dark past, although she knew a little of his. She was scared he wouldn’t like her if he found out how human she was. He had put her on a pedastool, she was his angel. How then could she confess that she had demons for friends? So she did what she did best, she ran away. She ended it with Romance via a text and decided that the right thing to do was work on her relationship and her real life. When her boyfriend asked her if anything had happened, she could not lie. And so she told him. He was furious, and that night he hurt her. Strangled her and yelled at her and made her feel worthless and lost once again. And so she accepted that was the way her life was meant to be. She felt she needed to be punished. She could not understand that love had knocked at her door. Her boyfriend warped it into evil. Into dirt. Because that is what he saw. And perception, is everything.
And she felt so alone. And she started questioning life and herself again. And she didn’t trust her thought’s one bit, for they had lead her so astray.
Again.
She quit her dead end job, but not so dramatically this time. she had given in and given up. She resigned herself to a dull and meaningless life. This brought about a great depression. One that sank into her bones and drained the colour from her cheeks. Soon after she could no longer find the will to get out of bed. What was the point? No one loved her, she could never express her true self. She was tortured by her past again, she let herself drown in the emotions it evoked, and become the victim, she felt unworthy of saving. She felt like giving up. This lead to some serious consequences. The voice in her head became an apparition, grown strong from her pain and weakness, it dared her to end her wretched life, mocking her, showing her that no one cared, that she was a disappointment. She begged her mother to lock her up in an insane asylum and drug her to kingdom come, so as to numb the pain and disappointment she was. So as to silence the monster and the closed-door banging in her mind. She no longer found solace in nature and music, everything reminded her of what she was not good enough to have. Mean texts from her boyfriend flowed, telling her her personality was hard to handle. On the day of her birth she swallowed 20 pills for the 20 years she had survived, took off all her clothes, went to sit in the sun, and awaited death, baring all, her slim figure a stark white in comparison to her dark surroundings. She watched ants struggling under the weight of their find, knowing she would finally find peace.
Death didn’t come. But a doctor did. He had a concerned crease between his brow, but that was all she could remember. He injected her with a tranquillizer. Apparently she had been crying hysterically for hours and had upset the neighbours. But she couldn’t recall. All was lost to her. As the tranquillizer set in, she became less and less tranquil; afraid of herself, she ran into the street, she wanted to run away from the voices but they came with her, mocking her for being so weak, for not being the person she was meant to be, magic and strong. For not being the light. For not loving the right person. But who was the right person? She came home defeated and wrapped herself in blankets. They felt like twigs and she felt like an egg in a nest waiting to be hatched. Soon after she was sent to an insane asylum, like she had wished. And although this was a tragic turn of events, her sense of humour returned as she sung the words ‘be careful what you wish for because you just might get it’ as she entered the High stone gates of the ominous building.
Here, of all places, where one loses their mind, Raven found hers. once again she found her light and her will to live. She began to dream again, of letting go of the demons of her past, and she wrote poetry and made friends and made jokes and saw herself in the mirror and there, beautiful to behold was her own light and truth. She had missed them dearly. And rejoiced in having them back. Many events transpired in the mental hospital, and she met many special people and read many special books. Books that opened her up to the secrets of life. She came to know who she was: the wounded healer. She met angels and guides and herself.
In her last few weeks, on a weekend back home, Romance paid her a visit. It had been so long. She had chopped off all her raven hair in an attempt to be rid of her old self, but still he found her so beautiful. She told him of her time inside and he asked her a vital question: what brought you to the point where you felt you were insane? She pondered it deeply before answering… I lost hope.. in myself. When I lost you. He took her in his arms and whispered that she had never lost him. That day, in the sunlight, on crisp white sheets, they made love together for the first time. Such big love that it could not be contained, and was probably heard by all the neighbours, and perhaps even the whole village.
Once again she was faced with THE decision. She was still with her boyfriend, who had been very supportive whilst she was away. Although somewhat judgemental. And Romance had never asked her to make a choice, which bugged her a little bit. At night, when she was all alone in her little rickety single bed, in the dormitory of the insane asylum, she listened to the music playlist that Romance had made for her and fell more and more in love and more and more certain. On her first day free, she climbed a mountain near her home and entered a cave. Here she drew on its ceiling in pink and red pastel, a heart with the words ‘follow’ underneath.
She knew in her heart of hearts that choosing wasn’t really the plan. It was more about the flow of things. About following. She felt something big stirring, a wind of change, and so she decided to let things be, and just live for a while. This relaxed her. She knew herself well enough to let love in.
Romance visited her again, late at night, after his shift at the restaurant they once worked in together was over. He had been promoted to manager, and looked very handsome in his suit. He bought with him a bottle of bitter red wine. They lit candles and sat together drinking out of crystal glasses. They explored one another intellectually until they were too drunk to talk. And then they explored one another physically, and spoke with their bodies and their lips. And he made her feel beautiful. She wasn’t shy nor was she quiet. She rode him into oblivion, all the while seeing things she couldnt quite explain, or put her finger on, a feeling out of this world and in its very centre at the same time. whilst lying on his chest after, her phone began to ring. She saw that it was her boyfriend. Romance kissed her forehead sweetly, and told her to answer it. Her boyfriend is weeping on the other end of the phone, asking if she is with him. She cannot lie and says she is… but omits to being on top of him. He starts yelling at her , profanities, he says he knows she is fucking Romance. He hangs up. She begins to weep, whilst still on top of Romance, he holds her close, rocking her back and forth, and kisses her tears away, finding them more beautiful even then her smiles. The phone rings again. She answers. Her boyfriend tells her he just had a car accident, that he is drunk, and that he knows. She gets such a shock that she falls backwards, saving herself by putting out her arm. In that moment she feels great love for her boyfriend. For being so unapologetically human. Alas she breaks her glass and it cuts deeply into her wrist. She is as hurt as her boyfriend. Bleeding profusely and too drunk to clean up the mess. Romance helps her bandage the wound, picks up the broken pieces of crystal, and then leaves, knowing she needs to deal with this on her own. In that moment, raven feels horrendously guilty. She feels wrong. And she berates herself for being bad and unfaithful. Again. After all this time, she feels she is STILL making the wrong decisions. She is almost glad for her wound, she thinks the universe did it to her to punish her for the pain she is causing all around her. It hurts her all the more to know that unknowingly she has broken hearts. She feels like the queen of hearts, with too much power. OFF WITH MY HEAD! She decides that to be good, she must make amends with her boyfriend, and once again leave Romance behind. She goes against the flow.
But the truth is, only dead fish go with the flow.
A week goes by and she can no longer bare wondering how Romance is, she feels even more awful for having confused him so. So, she invites him over. He brings wine. She is not herself, but a pretty shell. A mess of confusion. It breaks his heart to see her so undone. He tries to kiss away her pain but there is nothing there to kiss. He tries to make love to her, and remind her of his love, but she is limp underneath him. In her mind, she is punishing herself for her misdeeds, for her confusion, for her imperfection,she is raped, her last bit of innocence torn from her. She cannot say no, but she didn’t say yes. She feels so good and so bad at the same time that she weeps and is sick. Her mind is playing tricks. He comes, sees her weeping, and becomes afraid. He begins to feel doubt. He wants to leave. This is not the woman he loves. This is a mess. And he was right. She was a mess. Her head had done her in, and her heart was nowhere to be seen to pick up the pieces.
When he leaves, she writes her version of the events down hurriedly, as if to convince herself:
She writes her soul
Butterflies soar from her mind
From places not seen,
Her heart holds her story
She unfolds her fears to paper and screen
A beautiful disaster
She calls it;
A chaotic mess
She writes her soul
To escape Herself
An uneasy, noxious mist hangs about our heads; a foreshadowing of doom and gloom, where things go boom, so thick one could stir it with a finger. We sit alone, together, in my room. He lights a candle, and turns off the lights. Sitting down on the edge of my bed, he takes a cigarette between his full lips and bows to the flickering light of the candle. The cigarette ignites one small, toxic, hot coal in a dark and cavernous room. A spark in the dark. I can barely see anything. Just his profile; his beautiful chiselled jaw, and his thick set brow, furrowed in thought. I am on edge, myself. Something is not quite right. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. A gut feel. A gut wrenching, heart crunching feeling; a long winded, dilapidated silent-scream: ‘RUN!’ But I don’t. I am in freeze mode. But my brain, it takes flight-working over time, as I remember every sick and perverse man that has stuck his sword inside me and twisted the blade. I am bleeding internally, eternally, from all the trouble I have seen. He, however, looks calm and collected. He hands me the bottle of wine without a word. He doesn’t even look at me. I yearn for his eyes to move my way and see the tears welling in mine. Recognise. I too, am human. He forces the bottle into my hands with nonchalance. If I do not grip its neck, it will fall, and bleed all over the floor. I take a gulp of the sickly sweet mess. It soothes my throat but not my erratic heartbeat. I am feeling heavy. Stuffed full with mistrust. Heavy in soul, as if the spirits have wish washed all the way down and formed into lead, weighing down my feet. I am dizzy, trying to stay upright. This balancing act between right and wrong has my head spinning. I fall, face first, into the pillows, and cannot move, although my breathing is now obscured slightly, and I am blind to his movements behind me. My mouth is full of cotton moths, fluttering sadistically, frantically this way and that, gluing its contours shut. I want to tell him it’s time to go home. That in fact, I feel ill, and I feel wrong, and I no longer want him around. He is my friend, is he not? I have let him in before… but that time I was lucid, and I was angry. Angry that I had put myself in a cage called love, (and what, pray tell, is love? I cannot answer myself this question. Not anymore. I know love exists, but it has never before graced me with its presence. I have thought to have known love, once upon a time. But love has always been a façade, an excuse, broken fairy wings, a genre of betwixt thriller/fantasy, a path to a graveyard, where one mourns trust. Love has been but an abyss of abuse for me)… and thrown away the key. No. I had not thrown it away, exactly. I had given it to the one I loved, the one who knew me all too well, and asked him to swallow it whole. He did so, sweetly. And I couldn’t forgive him for that; for loving me so innocently. When inside I am a polarity of good and evil and evil almost always wins. Innocence has long been buried underneath the rubble and ashes of my childhood. His good heart did not deserve to have my rusty key lodged in its side. A thorn to bear and carry throughout life, a slow death. How could I have been so cruel? So I fucked this man, now sitting behind me, to prove to myself just how I could be so cruel. Is that why I did what I did? Is everything else but a lie. It feels like it. Afterwards, at three in the morning, the witching hour, when the veil between this world and theirs is at its thinnest. he called me. My love. And he was weeping. He had just had a car accident. He was blinded by a vision of me with another man. We were so entwined, our hearts beating as one. He knew. He knew I had taken his heart between my fingers and squeezed until blood oozed out, as well as the key I had asked him to swallow. He felt the release, and it broke him. I wept, whilst still on top of the man friend who was to later become my enemy… my rapist. Mine, my own. My precious.. I wept until, exhausted, I fell sideways and onto a glass of half empty wine. It broke and shattered all over the floor, seeping stains into the carpet, and into my soul, and shards pierced my arm. The damage was done. I would have this scar for life. Gashed, blood gushed. And the to-be rapist left me alone to wipe away my tears, both translucent and ruby red. I gave consent that night. Or rather, my other half did. : The angry, loathsome and destructive half. Now, though, I want him to go, not come. He doesn’t take the hint. Instead he creeps ever closer.
He lies on top of me, wrenches my head back by my hair, and bites into my cheek. He says nothing, but his teeth say more than enough. These are not love bites. I feel afraid. I try to push him off but my arms are not my friends, they hang limp at my side. He pushes up my dress. In my head the word ‘no’ is running in circles, trying to catch itself, trying to find the finish line, so it can exit my mouth and utter its brevity for all ears. But, alas, there is another contender in my inside race, giving up chase. She is a curious cat, and wants to see what will happen next. She feeds off chaos. The Chaos Cat. She speeds up and catches ‘no’ before it can win, tackles ‘no’ to the ground, and whispers in no’s ear “you deserve to be punished, do you not?’ I can feel his limp dick brush over me. He pushes my head violently back into the pillows, and keeps his hand there, so i am nothing more than a muffled object. With his other hand, he twists my other arm around and lies on it, pegging it to me, gluing us together. For better or for worse. Destiny flips a coin and comes down tails; worse it is, then.. I am resigned to my fate. He enters me, and even though he is soft, I feel something. Like a rearing horse, frustrated by its rider, it gallops off into the sunset. My sun is setting, a master piece, depicting agony in all its fifty fucked up dark shades of grey. I am no longer in the present moment. I am at the beginning ofmy rat race. I feel someone else inside me. Some ancient evil, passed down from generation to generation. Flashes of darkness and funny feelings. Confusion melting into molten lava, as he touches my belly. It recoils, and I shiver, and that memory is more painful than the present moment, where ince again, I am but a dumping ground for the trash man has collected over the years. I am fear incarnate. Fear and relief. That I am a victim once again. That I cannot choose my fate. That bad things really do happen to good people. For intrinsically I am good. Damaged goods, but good nonetheless. Foolish goods. But good. Bad things happen. Not only in my imagination, but in my waking world. In my room. In my womb. He moves in me, fast and hard jerking movements, until he is hard. Still he doesn’t let me move or breathe. There is only silence. And then the sound of his balls flapping against my white cotton panties, pushed hastily to the side. An ugly sound. I feel bile in my throat, and while ‘No’ and the curious chaos cat are wrestling amongst themselves, bile comes out of nowhere, wins the race, and comes pouring out my mouth, a soliloquy of sadness and disgust. He smells the sick and it sets him off. He comes violently, yanks himself out of me, and without a word, does up his jeans, gets up, and walks out. It took but a minute to destroy a lifetime. Curiouser and curiouser. I hear him opening the front door, climbing over the gate, and starting his bike up. The revv’s he kicks into the pedals feel like kicks in my side. Still I cannot move. Tears mingle with my vomit. Salty waste. I am a waste. Of space. Of time. Inside I am screaming. Outside it looks like I am dreaming. I scream until, finally, sweet release in the form of sleep envelops me. As I fall into a dreamless slumber, his contaminated but innocent sperm discovers my lonely womb on its journey, and kicks in its door. Finding a warm place to rest, it nestles into my egg, and waits for me to wake. To vomit up some more. When I do finally come round, my nightmare will begin.
~*~
Two months later, raven has become very ill. And traumatised, and angry. She messages Romance, accusing him of raping her. He responds with great anger, a rage he has never before felt, an uncontrollable wave that sweeps him off his feet. He feels sick deep disbelief, he feels betrayed. He opened himself up to an angel, but the woman in the messages was the devil. She had no wings, and when she fell from her pedastool she smashed into a thousand jagged puzzle pieces, all of which pierced his flesh. He wished her dead. He wished himself dead. He could not sleep. Humans were cruel creatures, and he had allowed one to enter his life, he had been blinded by beauty. A mask to rival his own. He pummelled his fists into dry walls and bled all over the floor. he bled out all his rage and all his love and then he ran away. Never to be seen again.
And Raven too felt betrayed. She felt no love. For Romance, her silly, blind dumb and deaf boyfriend or for herself. She makes herself sick for days. She has no energy, she is sore and tired. She feels as if she were dying.
Her mother takes her to a doctor for a colonoscopy, ANYTHING to detoxify her poor body. Desperate to find a way to heal her little girl. In the doctors room, after being declined for a meeting with the practitioner, her mother breaks down, so exhausted by raven’s on going battle with life. Raven observes this wretched woman, so broken by her antics, and in her heart, witnessing her mothers desperation, raven finds a flicker. A flicker of light, because she knows she must get better. If not for herself than for the woman who raised her. Her boyfriend is not tolerating her exhaustion, he pushes her and lays heavy guilt on her when she cannot walk as fast as he can. Soon she realises she is pregnant. This almost comes as a blessing,for at least she knows what is wrong with her. The child is not her boyfriends. It is Romance’s baby.
And soon it begins to dictate to her how to live her life. She begins to eat healthily, caring for her body. She begins to talk to herself, soothing words and stories. She begins to feel deep love for this little creature inside of her, and for herself. She finds she is a miracle, to have created life. She doesn’t tell Romance or her boyfriend whose baby it is. She begins to swell, her breasts become big and bouncy, and she feels beautiful and connected to herself like never before. Her and her cat sit side by side in serenity. Alone but all one. No meowing necessary. she needs no one. Knowing she may have to give up her life to raise a child, raven starts to ponder what life she would be giving up, what things she could do with this world and her talents. She dreams of writing epic novels, of travelling the world and having adventures, of loving all she meets and being kind. Of being a nurse and healing others, bringing hope and smiles. She dreams of romances and friendships yet to come, she dreams of independence and of loving herself and being confident in the world. she dreams she finds her voice and her place. And all this dreaming plants a seed… of hoping.
She knows now what she needs to do. She finds the key under the mat, right by the door, and it opens, revealing to her the secrets waiting for her. She realises her great love for helping others, especially moulding the young minds of children and decides to become a teacher and care giver. She finds solice in spreading her words and her light to the young, who still know the magic she knows. She decides to terminate the pregnancy, although she has great love for the child growing within her, inspite of this great love, she knows she is not ready to become a mother. Yet. But. She knows what she must do to be her own mother in the world. eat right, exercise, be kind, learn how to live, and follow her dreams. The experience of the termination was traumatising, especially as she had to lie to her boyfriend and tell him it was his, she vomited in his car and he saw her at her worst, most weakest point. After her termination, she needed to express the day and release it, so, weeping for her loss, huddled in a ball, she scribbled these words:
~*~
So cold in the morning, the grey sky hovering like an ominous sign for the day ahead. My stomach aches and my brain is frazzled from hours of tossing and turning, thoughts a buzz in my head. I slept alone, although my boyfriend was there. I asked him to sleep in the spare room. I needed to be alone, to do my tossing and turning and come to peace with the decision I had already made and in a few hours would go through with. I was not sad. The tears had already sprung from eyes or days, ad I had swam in their salty depth, held my breath and touched the bottom, felt its surface and new I could not stay here forever.
Sick, and angry. Angry that the life inside of me was ending, that I was knowingly going into battle to lay down my sword and die. I couldn’t speak without anger dripping onto the subject, and it looked like hate and it scared those I loved. My mom says ‘just be glad it’s over’, a dictator with her finger wagging. I must fake it till I make it but I was never good at faking it. My face gives me away. It transforms into my emotions without my go ahead. And I am left as what I feel, not who I am. In the car on the way there I choose to sit in the back. Partly because I know I will get sick from the bumps in the road and mostly because I do not want to make conversation where there is none. We sit in angry silence, and the butterflies in my stomach turn to bats. I am going to be sick. Stop the car! But stage fright subsides the need and I am swaying with the waves of nausea like a lone buoy in the ocean. On the road again. And again I feel like I am going to be sick. ‘I am so sorry’ I whisper to him as I vomit into the white plastic bag my mom told me to bring home. I am so sorry for everything. For all the pain I feel and have caused. Blood and tea come from my throat. ‘I’m vomiting blood!’ I am scared, what is wrong with me? But he says it will be fine, all over soon, who cares if you’re vomiting blood now. I care. But I don’t say so. I find myself not saying much of what I think anymore. It feels like it goes unheard and I hate being ignored so I keep my mouth closed. The car smells like sick. I move to the front and he promises me the world. And love to live with. a part of me wishes he was telling the truth, another fears living this love over and over again, because it doesn’t feel like love a lot of the time, another part of me knows he makes empty promises to full the emptiness we have in. and I understand, so I smile. And I am so scared. The clouds are still so grey.
In front of the clinic is a black car dripping with fake blood, the paint spells out the words “abortion is evil.” it makes us angry. and it makes me feel like I have more of a right than ever to terminate an unwanted pregnancy, because I cannot take care of a child and would not want it in a world where ugly men hid in cars spreading the wrong message and calling it god’s word. I think to myself, he’s probably never even got anyone pregnant. We wait. And wait. In silence. His phone buzzes loudly and shocks me out of my reverie. I snap at him to turn it off, the battery is dying. He snaps back ‘fuck. Fine. I will switch it off. I start to cry, but hide behind my hair, I feel undone. I feel unsafe. I feel so alone. I just want him to hold me and tell me it will be ok but instead he is bracing me with his cold shoulder. The receptionist calls me in. she is harsh and her questions come too fast. When was your last period? Two months ago. Two months ago. We live in a world with dates! My bad. Scorned, but I don’t take it to heart. My heart is preoccupied, saying goodbye to its new neighbour and friend.
People start to come in. woman with bumps of all shapes and sizes. Woman ending the life they cannot raise. An Asian woman who is eating, then scolded by the nurse. ‘Why you eat? Don’t you know you can’t eat if you want to go under’. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I am so hungry. It eats at me, but I don’t want to be awake for when they stick things up me and take things out. they ask me questions, what allergies I have, what illnesses and I realise how lucky I am, how healthy I will feel after this, because I have been feeling like death, being sick, weak, heavy, tired, all the time, but soon it will be over and I will be a normal 20 year old again, frolicking in the sand and drinking up the sun of this new summer. They make me take two pills. Under my tongue, they melt slowly, a toxic waste pooling in my mouth and spreading to my stomach. Soon I am in severe pain; my stomach feels like it will burst. I wrap my arms around my middle to keep myself together. I inch my arm so I don’t scream. Concentrate on the pain. It spreads to my legs; they are on fire underneath my skin. I start to feel nauseous and rush to the bathroom where I vomit up more blood, and sob a while on the cold floor, holding my stomach and whispering to the baby I will never know that I am sorry. That it isn’t her time. Then I smell the ground, acrid and vomit some more. A mother and her child come in. they are waiting for someone. I watch the baby and think this is worse than the car with abortion is evil on it. Because now I see what I will lose in a few minutes. Or hours. We wait some more. I cannot speak. I watch the baby become annoying and I feel relieved I won’t have to devote my life to running after a baby when it wants to run away. The waiting makes me want to have the abortion ASAP. Finally the anaesthetist is here. A kindly looking young man with glasses. They reflect my scrunched up face when I look into his eyes… i am called into a room full of woman with blankets waiting for the end. They are friendly and tell me the woes of being a mother. And their life stories, how they came to be here. I like the sharing, it calms me. One woman sits up and screams. A pool of blood drips from her chair. The nurse takes her away. She is never seen again. Soon my name is called. The anaesthetist looks into my eyes and I see my face is no longer scrunched but relaxed. I am now ready. It is not my time to be a mother. He injects me in my arm and it hurts. More than when I usually get blood tests. Then leads me to a room with a machine beeping and a bed with stirrups on the end. I have a blue towel wrapped around my middle. I feel nervous, being naked under the towel. I want to fall asleep already. The air is too cold. They make me lie down and put my legs up, open them. I am exposed. I ask the anaesthetist when I will fall asleep/ ‘oh you want to be asleep, do you?’ I panic. Didn’t they know? I don’t want to be awake for this!
The next thing I know I am in another room, sitting in a very comfortable chair, with a blanket over me. The room is spinning, and I am seeing double. I feel giddy and not there. I feel like my soul is far away doing a trance dance. I speak my thoughts without thinking, and start to sing. My stomach hurts. My arm hurts. I see the Asian lady in a chair across from me. ‘I love Asians. I watched mulan when I was a kid and I thought all Asians died after that, so when I saw one on the beach a few months later it was the happiest day of my life! Now I just love the culture. Can you speak mandarin?” I tell her all this and laugh. Then I start singing ganam style and she speaks about an elephant and a gun. Am I tripping or are you saying that? She teaches me to say I love you. I can’t remember how now… how long have I been here? Two hours. Best drug ever. I tell the nurse that what she does here is a leap for the feminist movement and thank her. Then I dizzily dress. Blood smears my legs. I leave empty but so full. Of laughter. And hope. And then I vomit some more. And now I am free.
~*~
They broke up that day,her and her boyfriend, finally. And so, she begins her journey. The one she was always going to take, the love story she was always going to star in, her own.
The Unexpected End
Or
The Beginning
Fiction This 