bookstore

Sometimes I go to the bookstore just to people watch.  Often some of my favorite characters are inspired by people I meet or observe while looking for a good book.  Today was no different... so please enjoy.

He was the kind of handsome that snuck up on you, just like his smile.  Just when you least expect it the corners of his mouth would curl up slightly to reveal beautiful white teeth.  He never held your gaze with his almond brown eyes for more than a few seconds without looking to the ground as if reluctant to allow you to see what lay behind them.  Dark curls fell in neat layers surrounding a perfect jaw line he tried to hide behind a day’s stubble.  He was what one could call a quiet handsome, not overbearing with the uber-confidence of a gorgeous man, but approachable. When you spoke to him he listened intently, often chewing on his lower lip in concentration.  And when he answered his voice was like an audible whisper, just loud enough to be heard without disturbing the aura of calm that seemed to surround him.  His charm was of the variety that relied on dry wit rather than the defamation of another.  It was no wonder I fell in love with him that first moment, without even knowing his name.

I didn’t even officially meet him until weeks later.  Weeks of me going to the bookstore just to see if he was working, with no intentions beyond that.  There were days I’d purposely avoid his section, just to have the privilege of watching him while he worked.  Yes, of course I realize this behavior bordered on stalker- but love makes you change your perception of morality.  I had to know more before I took this simple infatuation with a stranger into a risky liaison that would forever change the course of my life.  I like to believe that was never my intention; that circumstances led me down this path.  But the truth is I think a small part of me knew from the beginning how badly things would proceed from this simple infatuation if I chose to act upon it.  After all I’m a married woman, it’s not appropriate for me to do more than look at the menu as my husband calls it.  But as I’ve said, love makes you change.

I spent several hours a day at the bookstore, observing.  I learned through overheard conversations and body language he was unmarried, a few years younger than me, and loved much of the same music and literature I did.  He had a girlfriend; he had told another young customer who had boldly asked.  I should have walked away, satisfied that I learned enough to know better.  But that smile kept drawing me in.  I was like a moth to the flame, and nothing in my world burned as brightly as his smile.  I won’t make excuses when I explain that my marriage was worn out.  My husband and I had worn out the romance and settled into complacency.  It was expected after 3 kids, a mortgage and finding me unemployable at 40. But as I said, no excuses because at one point I had come to my senses.  I had decided to end my infatuation and stop going to the bookstore everyday to see him.  It wasn’t worth the trouble it would eventually cause, and what was I thinking- he’d never find me attractive.  So I stopped going every day, and resigned myself to the life I had.  Until the impossible finally seemed possible.

Oprah had a book club pick I really wanted to read.  Not thinking about him being there I headed to the bookstore.  As soon as I walked in the door I knew it was a mistake.  I could feel him there, I knew he was there, without even setting eyes on him, I just knew.  I took a deep breath and walked toward the section I knew the book would be in.  I resigned myself to just getting the book, without wandering the sections leisurely in hopes of catching a glimpse of him as I typically would do.  Get in, get out- that was my plan.  That was the plan until I heard his voice behind me.  It was even more seductive than I remembered.

“Well, hello stranger,” his tone jovial.  “Where have you been?  I haven’t seen you in almost a week.  Is everything okay?”

I knew it was just performance of good customer service, I knew that.  But something in me stirred.  “I’ve just been really busy.”

“I thought maybe we had done something wrong.”

“No-“the lie came easily.  “I just had some things to do at home.”

He smiled.  That cock-eyed smile that always melted my resolve.  There it was, directed at me.   I was sunk.  “Well I hope it was more important that spending time here, we missed you.”

We missed you- he said.  Not I missed you… we.  I could feel my resolve steeling itself against that smile in a valiant effort.  The book I had picked up was pressed against me and I could feel my heart beat against its pages.  I needed a laugh, something to distract me from my fate.  “I probably shouldn’t spend so much time here.  You might start charging me rent.”

“We should pay you for beautifying the place.”

It was a self-conscious pause.  I didn’t know if I should answer or what I could say to that accolade.  So I just smiled back.  That was when he reached across the short distance between us and touched my elbow.  I felt the jolt of electricity and wondered if he did too. 

“I almost forgot,” he turned away.  “I have something for you.  Wait here I’ll be right back.”

Every fiber of my being screamed that I should run, run far, run fast, run away.  Instead I let out the breath I had been holding for what seemed like an eternity.  I looked for my escape routes, go to the cash register or move further into the aisles.  Because staying right there didn’t seem like the right thing to do.  I had visions of making a complete fool of myself by blurting out that I was in love with this stranger.  I had visions of him being completely disgusted by the very idea of it and laughing in my face.  I had visions of my husband along with our children being completely ignorant of Mommy’s insanity and realized that was just what this was… insanity.  So I took a deep breath, took a few steps toward the cash register, having every intention of never setting foot in this bookstore again.  Then suddenly he appeared in front of me.

“Here,” he placed another book on top of the one I had been holding.  “I know you’ve been reading this series, and this is the latest.”

“How did you remember?” I couldn’t form coherent words.  “Why would you?  How did you?”

 “We just got it two days ago,” he held his finger to his lips in a hushing gesture.  I’ve been holding one back for you. Don’t tell my manager.”

“Wow.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How much is it?” I fumbled in my purse for something to do, so I wouldn’t have to look into those soulful eyes.  I mumbled to myself, “I’m not sure I brought enough for them both.”

He touched my hands stilling them in mid search, “It’s on me.”

“I can’t let you do that-“

“Sure you can,” that smile crept back again.  “It’s the least I can do to get you to come back.  I’ve missed seeing you.”

I’ve missed seeing you, he said this time.  The logical part of my brain kicked in leaving me without emotion.  He didn’t mean it, I told myself.  He’s just being nice.  Don’t read into this, I told myself sternly.  What he said next blew it all out of the water.

“You know,” his feet were shuffling as his gaze left mine to look down at them.  “They’ve started a book club here.  Every Thursday night.  And that series is going to be the first ones they read.  You should come.  Then maybe afterwards we could go get a cup of coffee or something.”

“I’d like that,” I said without thought. 

“Great,” he extended his hand for a handshake.  “So I’ll see you here Thursday night about 7:00.  I’m Tyler by the way.”

“Oh, I’m-“taking his hand for that handshake, I didn’t finish, caught off guard by him.

“You’re Arianna,” he registered my shock.  “I’m not psychic or psycho or anything.  I just know from your credit card.  I remembered your name because it’s so beautiful and it fits you so well.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you Thursday,” he released my hand that was still tingling from his touch.  He turned and went back to work.  He walked through the aisles to the stack of science fiction he had been working on earlier.  I stood for a half second and watched before tearing myself away.

I tried not to look back as I approached the cash register, but I couldn’t resist sneaking a peek.  When I did I saw him watching me too.  We both turned away embarrassed at being caught in the act.  I left the bookstore with a bounce in my step anticipating Thursday night’s adventure.

I was dreaming of that sound again.  Even in my dream my eyes were closed but I could hear the flutter of wings.  I could feel the air move in wisps across my face as the wings brushed past.  Then in my dream or in a moment of lucid thought I opened my eyes.  I saw him.  As plain as I see the words I write now.  He stood at the foot of my bed a shadow of a figure of a dark entity.  His face was hidden from the light, his dark clothes doing little to give him definition.  But I know him.  And because I know him what I see doesn’t matter.  I could close my eyes again and he would still be him, he would still be there.  I just know him. 

When I was a child he would visit often.  Come to stand at the foot of my bed in the darkness of the deepest night.  Until I was told of the Boogie Man and the monsters that lurked in the shadows, I didn’t know to fear him.  Even after my childhood fears were formed, he never scared me.  There was always something soothing about his presence, my mind told me to fear, while my heart knew better. 

I tried once to tell my family about him.  Can you imagine?  Telling rational adults there is a man who lurks at the foot of your bed every night, but you aren’t scared of him.  It was of course dismissed as fanciful nonsense, the stuff of a child’s imagination.  Until my grandmother asked, “Do you hear his wings flapping before he arrives?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted, “Sometimes I don’t though.”

“The angels don’t always fly to us,” I remember the warmth of her hands covering mine.  “Sometimes they just walk into the room.”

Years have passed since my Grandmother’s death and I have difficulty remembering her voice.  But I cannot forget her hands.  My grandmother would often comment that she didn’t mind growing old, except for what it did to her hands.  She would take my downy smooth child’s fingers into her warm grasp admiring them in contrast to her own.  Her hands reflected the experience of her life.  Bones twisted by arthritis, skin as thin as parchment stretched across blue and violet veins, dotted with dark spots- age freckles she called them, nails perfectly manicured with red polish to hide the yellowing; you would expect them to be cold but they were always warm even in the harsh winters she survived alone in the country. 

I knew the exact moment of her passing because she came to tell me about it in a dream.  I had been away, unaware of her illness and came back only for the funeral.  My mother and I had needed the distance to be whole again, we ripped each other to shreds if we spent too much time in close proximity.  I was packing my bag when she called to tell me her mother had passed.   I knew logically Grandmother was gone, I could see her body in the casket.  But it wasn’t until I held her hand, felt the cold lifeless flesh against my own that I was convinced it wasn’t just a bad dream.  I knew better of course, but even I needed proof.

My grandmother has always worn the same three rings her entire life.  One was an emerald ring her father had given her at her high school graduation.  He had promised her another ring when she graduated from teacher’s college, but life and circumstances kept that from happening.  My great-grandfather died during the great depression never fulfilling his promise, while my grandmother chose a different path than teaching.  My cousin Josie inherited the emerald.  The second was an opal wrapped in delicate gold filigree that she had bought for herself years ago because she liked the design. She thought that buying it made her an independent woman of means.  My cousin Serena was given that one.  The third ring was a diamond engagement ring a boy before my grandfather had given to her upon proposing marriage.  The boy had died in the War and Grandmother had later met Grandfather.  It wasn’t the only tragedy in her life, losing that first love.  She had lost a child to polio and a husband to his mistress.  She gave me the diamond in her will.  She had given me so much more in life though.

She had been my ally in all things, the only adult who had believed in my angel.  She taught me about the voices and the dreams.  She knew how to make sense of the images that I could see and no one else believed.  She had explained it all in such a way that the nonsensical had made sense finally.  It wasn’t in my head, it was real.  I wasn’t crazy, I was gifted.  She made me believe in the one true thing that governed us all- death.  She made me believe that death was just a rite of passage to another existence, a higher plane of consciousness.  So when I heard the angel’s wings and I opened my eyes to see the dark figure at the end of my bed, I just knew.  I knew that death would follow soon enough. 

The phone rang jolting me completely awake.  I knew it would be one of two people before I even picked up the receiver. 

“Hello.”

“Anna,” Josie’s voice came through the line.  “Did you see him? Do you know what this means?”

How could she even ask me that stupid of a question after all this time?  “Has Serena seen him?”

“I dunno, I called you first.”

“Well, yes… I saw him.  And if Serena has seen him too, then we should probably meet at the cabin by Thursday.  Tell her to clear her schedule there’s work to be done.”

I hung up the receiver knowing the next few days would be filled with more questions than answers.  I had excuses to make, commitments to dodge for an unspecified amount of time.  The three of us had learned long ago how to lie well to hide what we knew, hide who are.  Josie and Serena were the only two living people I could trust with my secrets because we shared the same one.  But that was the way of things, when you work with the dead there is always more secrets to cover the truth.  Let’s face it, would you want to know the truth if you were going to die soon?   Let me answer that for you… no.  And in case you’re wondering, not many people want to hear messages from the other side either.  No the truth is sometimes an angel just has to walk into a room, because flying tends to upset the status quo.

Writing Exercise for Smokey-

I was tasked to do a writing exercise the rules were;  100 words, use a vegetable, a place and a power tool.  Here is what my imagination led me to... go figure!

Bunny eyed her unnatural reflection in the stage lit mirror. The aroma of stale beer, hairspray, marijuana, makeup and faux Chanel did nothing to break the unnatural atmosphere of Chainsaw Alley.  Even it had been something else before a strip club; giving the MC an act to excite the degenerates.  Bunny told her reflection, “When you hit rock bottom you can’t complain about the view.”

Doing things with a carrot that made Elmer Fudd drool, she wasn’t proud.  Promising herself tonight was it- at last.  Familiar roar of the MC’s blade signaled her last performance.  Until easy money called again.

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Brianna made her way by crook and by hook through the castle to the courtyard and fresh air.  If one could consider the air to be fresh with all the livestock, unwashed bodies and rotten foods ripening in the sunlight.  Brianna began to wish that her senses were more ethereal in this case. But there was no time to bemoan her circumstances when she had only seven days to accomplish the impossible.  She tried hard to remember the beginning of the fairy tale.

“Once upon a time,” she repeated to herself as if to jog some latent memory.  “That’s how they usually start.”

She walked through mud and muck unnoticed by everyone aside from the very young and slightly dubious.  Eventually she made her way out of the castle grounds into the nearby village.  She carried with her the ring the Queen had given her, still warm to her touch.  She couldn’t concentrate much beyond pondering the Queen’s fate come seven days from now.  Then a sliver of hope began to take root, and Brianna began to think perhaps there was a way to save the Queen, and get back home.  Nothing was improbable at this point.

“Once upon a time,” she repeated again.  “There lived a beautiful girl who would become a beautiful Queen.”

Brianna began to feel the fog lifting from her memory as an amnesiac would when regaining a lost lifetime.  “She was visited on three separate occasions by three fairy Godmothers, each one giving her counsel that would eventually save her life.

The first fairy Godmother taught her the lesson of kindness and compassion to all creatures.  It was this kindness that endeared her to the future King, and the man who would be her husband.

The second fairy Godmother taught her of magic and how to see the future.  It was this skill that warned her of the evil Cardinal who poisoned her King and would kill their son if she did not keep him hidden.

The Queen had escaped from the King’s madness, brought on by the poison the Cardinal put in his morning tea, just long enough to hide their son and save him from certain death.  Then she herself was caught and sentenced to death. 

It was the arrival of the third fairy Godmother, just before her sentence was passed that brought with it a good omen, that all would end well.  For it fell to the third fairy Godmother to deliver the talisman to the Prince in hiding, signifying the defeat of the evil Cardinal’s plans to end the royal bloodline.”

“Oh, my God,” Brianna stopped in her tracks.  “I’m the third fairy Godmother! Okay, think…think.  Where would I go to hide a prince?”

As Brianna contemplated the fate of her entire family line resting solely on her shoulders, she tried not to panic.  It was then the Queen’s voice came to her…”use the story like a map.”

“A map to where?” she asked no one in particular.  “Think. Think.”

“The fairy Godmother had great magic to bestow upon the young Prince.  But the Queen had hidden him so well the youngest fairy Godmother knew not where to look.  So she looked within the circle, and there she saw the young Prince.  Knowing she had only seven days to find the Prince and return to the castle, she wasted not a moment and flew to the Prince.”

“Flew? Seriously?  And what circle?  Where is this circle?”

Brianna could feel the frustration growing in strides with her panic.  “Calm down,” she told herself. “Prince Demetrius, Prince Demetrius, Prince Demetrious.”

She said his name as if to conjure him from thin air- but nothing happened.  She did notice the Queen’s ring grew steadily warmer when she said his name.  She raised the ring to eye level to examine it.  In the small void the circle of the ring created she saw him.  She saw a baby in a cradle, cooing softly.  “Prince Demetrius?”

“Take me to Prince Demetrius-“she no sooner had the words out of her mouth than she felt a pulling like being sucked through a straw.  She found herself going from the strong light of mid day, to near dusk in a completely unfamiliar village. The ground was covered with a light dusting of snow, and everyone around her was dressed in simple garments covered with the skins of a long haired animal she didn’t recognize. Everyone looked to be light skinned, blonde and blue eyed.   The people around her even spoke a different language.  What was stranger still was many of them seemed to be able to see her.

“We’ve been expecting you, Brianna,” said a gentle feminine voice from behind her.  “Prince Demetrius awaits you inside.”

Brianna turned and saw a tall blond woman enter what can only be described as a mud hut with an animal hide door.  Brianna followed as she entered her eyes had trouble adjusting to the darkness.  She heard his cooing before she was able to see him.  She followed the sound to stand before the dark haired child laying in a crib who was for all intents and purposes her great, great, many times great grandfather.  This baby was the beginning of her family line. There were not words to describe the surrealistic events of the moment she was living through.

“He’ll be wanting his supper,” the tall woman spoke again.  “Would you like to feed him?”

Before Brianna could protest the woman had placed her ancestral grandfather in her arms. She then guided Brianna to a chair, setting before her a crude bowl and spoon with some kind of gray looking gruel.  Seeing that she had no other choice in the matter, Brianna set about the process of getting more of the porridge into the baby Prince than onto him.  Not an easy task.  As she fed the Prince, the woman began to talk.

“I’m sure you’ll be having a million questions for me,” the woman’s voice was kind in contrast to her formidable physique.  She stood six feet tall if she were an inch.  Her body was lean with a musculature that was suggestive of a life lived working the land. Yet the rest of her appearance seemed to suggest otherwise.  Her hair was well kept and clean.  Her hands didn’t look rough or calloused.  And unlike most of the people Brianna had briefly encountered here her teeth were perfect and white.  “Shall we start with how you got here, and then how you can get home?”

“You know about all of this?” Brianna could do little to hide her amazement.

“Well of course we do,” she laughed a guttural laugh from deep within her chest. We’re the ones who made it happen after all.”

“You did? But why?”

“The why of it would take more time to explain than the how, I fear.”

“But there is a way home, right?”

“There is a possibility of a way home, yes.”

“A possibility doesn’t sound as sure as an actual way-“

“Well technically for you the way home hasn’t happened yet.  Just as you haven’t been born yet.  We believe all of these things will happen, but sometimes belief is little more than that. Just a belief it can happen- no assurance it will.”

“Remind me the next time I have any questions to ask someone else,” Brianna’s amazement was beginning to wear off.  “Please tell me I can get home.  You must know how.”

“You will, and I do,” she stated before continuing. “It's all very simple in theory.  You must think of it simply as coming through a doorway in time.  That doorway can take you to any place and time in which you or an ancestor exists.  Without the connection of a bloodline you simply can’t go there in time.  We think that as soon as you are aware of the ability that you can chose for yourself in which time to appear, but when you are unaware that is when we guide you. This particular doorway has been opened to allow you access to the very spot where your family line began.  Provided we can keep your family line in existence by keeping your great ancestral grandfather alive to begin it at all.”

“How would you know all of this?”

“We’re a race of people who are able to travel through those doorways regardless of bloodlines.  As a race of people we have been given the knowledge of the ancient ways, we can live in this time or any other we chose simply by opening a doorway in time. We use this skill to keep the balance of good and evil equal in the world.” 

“And my great, great… however many greats he is grandfather,” Brianna looked down into the face of her ancestor not able to imagine this sweet baby could be so ancient to her. “Is somehow involved in the balance of good and evil?”

“Well not directly,” she said as if it were common knowledge. “But your child will greatly influence the balance.”

“Mine?” Brianna’s amazement returned. Not only could she not imagine having a child, but really couldn’t fathom having one that would influence the balance of good and evil in the world.  “My child?  I’m going to have a child that is going to influence the balance between good and evil?  Is it going to be a demon?”

The tall blonde woman laughed again, heartily and with gusto.  “I was told you would doubt your abilities-“the laughter overtook her again.  “I cannot tell you much for fear it will influence our future decisions, but no- your child will be no demon.  Quite the opposite actually.”

“Really,” Brianna’s curiosity or motherly instinct took over.  Holding her ancestral grandfather in her arms she could only assume it was the natural maternal disposition to be curious.  “Will it be a boy or a girl?”

“I have said,” the woman repeated. “That I cannot tell you of your future.  Please don’t ask.”

“What good is it to know someone,” Brianna groused. “Who knows your future if they won’t even tell you something about it?”

“As I said,” she corrected.  “I know of many possible outcomes to your future, to influence you will change it perhaps for the worse.  We have rules my people and me.  I must not disregard centuries of your history or your future to satisfy your curiosity.”

“I won’t ask again,” Brianna conceded.  “So how do I get home then?”

“Well first the Queen must die,” was not the answer Brianna was expecting.

Chapter 4

The kiss seemed to end as abruptly as it began.  Brianna was caught under the cot wondering what would happen next.  The Queen stood in front of her King, her back to Brianna. Their emotions boiling to the surface put off a heat even Brianna could feel against the cold stone of the cell floor. She wondered if the Queen was blushing as she felt the rise of it against her own cheeks.  The King grasped the Queen with both hands, holding her at arm’s length.  The expressions that crossed his face were a mixture of adoration, bafflement and fear, concluding with vehemence.  If the Queen expected what came next she showed no sign of it from Brianna’s vantage point.  He used his grip on her arms to push her onto the cot.  She fell with a thud, which echoed through the small cell.  Brianna’s view was obstructed by the Queen’s garments, which also served to hide her from view.  What she heard next made her thankful she couldn’t see or be seen. 

“He was right,” the King seethed.  “You have bewitched me.  Why do I still desire you?”

“I have not bewitched you,” she said in a whisper that could do little to mask the pain of the last blow.  “Love is stronger than any magic or prayer.  I am yours my King, body and soul.  You have only to grant your forgiveness and we can once again be happy.”

“You would have me grant you forgiveness?  After all you have done?”  Brianna could hear him advancing across the stone floor.

“I would have you grant me mercy,” she replied.  “Mercy so that my life could be spared, and lived in recompense for my sins against you.”

“Or,” he began in a menacing tone.  “I could just take my damages from you in kind.”

“No,” she whispered as Brianna heard the sounds rustling of clothes just above her head. “I beg you my King, please… no.”

Nothing was said for the next few moments.  Brianna could hear movement, but couldn’t tell what was happening until suddenly there was an outburst from the King.  She couldn’t tell if it were from pain or guilt, until he spoke.

“You are maddening woman!” he screamed.  “I want nothing better than to see you tortured for the pain you have caused me.”

Brianna could hear his footsteps getting further and further away from where she hid.

“Yet when I touch you,” he whispered hoarsely.  “All of my pain seems to ebb away like the tide against the shore.  I want nothing more than to hold you in my arms.”

“Then do,” she said.  She crossed the room to where he was standing, Brianna’s vision of them no longer impaired.  “Give me that my King.  If only for a few days time, allow me that last request.  Allow me one week’s time to show you my regret and to earn your forgiveness.”

Brianna watched as the Queen moved slowly closer and closer to this volatile man, with more courage than she herself would have.  She watched as the Queen placed small kisses across his face, neck and then his mouth.  He stood immobile against her onslaught of gentle ardor. When her lips reached his mouth he took hold of her embracing her with a great passion.  The Queen surrendered to his embrace, and once again Brianna could feel the heat rising in her own cheeks.

“Not here,” the Queen whispered.  “I want to lay with you in our marriage bed.  Take me to our chambers, my love.”

As if driven by an unseen force the King moved to the cell door.  He knocked upon it gaining entrance to the corridor beyond.  The guard in the hallway opened the door wide enough to allow the King and Queen to depart.  Brianna knew this would be her only chance to leave the cell, but feared being seen.  She scooted out from under the cot, hoping the King would not turn around to look.  The Queen gave her a moment by stopping in the doorway, feigning that her garment was caught.  She gave Brianna a gesture to indicate that she should move quickly.  Brianna knew she would be trapped if the door closed before she could escape.  With the grace of a cat she slipped through the door just as the Queen moved across the threshold.  Brianna slipped unseen into a small alcove near the cell where they had just exited.  She watched from her perch as the King took his Queen away, not as if it were her last days on earth, but as if they were simply walking to a state function with all the regal nobility of their station.  Brianna wondered for a moment if she would ever see the Queen alive again.  She began to think about the journey ahead and where it would lead her.  She had a million questions and no answers to guide her.  As if reading her very thoughts, the Queen stopped in her progress with the King, and touched the very stone that had lead Brianna there. 

“Seven days,” she said touching the stone. Her voice was low spoken in English for Brianna’s sake; to the King it would sound like a strange prayer. Brianna leaned forward from her hiding place looking for a gesture or clue from the Queen.  The King turned toward where Brianna was standing, forcing her to shrink back into the shadows.  Undeterred the Queen continued, “Seven days you must come again to this very spot to return home.  Godspeed, my child, Godspeed.”