It's Almost Here!

One of my stories is being featured in this inspiring book. Can't wait for next month!

http://www.100momsonejourney.com/

Choose an animal. Write about it.

The road is as black as the hair on my leg; hot, uncrossable. I place my right paw next to the heated yellow line, feel the burn through my skin, pull back. How am I supposed to get my family across this road without getting splattered onto the boiling pavement?

My babies jump behind me, their white lined tails high in the air. Their ebony eyes wide, the matching hair on their backs risen. The growl coming from the zooming engines scare them, make them almost impossible to contain. Not only does the sound send chills through the air, the smoky, choking and acidic smell, causes our muscles to tighten, our minds to jumble.

I listen to the growls, try to discern a break in their rhythmic churning. The ground vibrates under my feet as another one passes. The rush of wind slaps me in the face, sending me back into the huddled group of my babies. They squeal and scatter.

I motion for them to come back together, signal to move forward, onto the road. They follow with blind faith.

A loud blare booms through the valley. The sound frightens my babies, but I keep running forward, hoping they are as close behind. I can’t glance back and check, I must keep my eyes on the spot just ahead. If I don’t, the straight line I intended to make will become a zigzag, and more time on the road, means more time for death.  

A screech of rubber across asphalt. Wind rushing over, then pulling up and under, lifting my body with the power of its momentum. Peddles kick up and hit me in the side, causing instant pain. I command my body to keep moving, to keep going. If I keep going, so will my babies.

A shadow passes overhead, then sunlight returns. My eyes try to shift from the sudden change, but they’ve become blurry. I take a deep breath of air, smelling for grass to guide my way. But it’s overpowered by the smell of burned rubber and exhaust.

My babies bump into me, their tiny bleats of fear pushing me into action. I spur my muscles forward. After an agonizing, long second, my feet hit the soft grasses on the other side. My babies’ feet follow. I try to count their padding, but its drowned out by the pounding of my heart.

I quickly check them, make sure they’ve made it across. They have. We’ve made it, by some stroke of luck.

Taking the fastest path along the tree line, I direct my feet toward our destination: life giving water.

Can you guess which animal I am?

I Never Would've Married You if I'd Have Known...

I never would’ve married you if I’d have known…

He’s surrounded by all the beautiful people. The people I avoid. Too much judgement. Comparing. Gossip. Backstabbing. But I guess things are different when you’re the center of everyone’s universe. The hero of every story.

I tuck myself into the loft sofa with a book, pretending not to notice the overthrow of my sanctuary.

“We only need your home for a night. One night. We’ll be gone in the morning.” My overseer pleaded with me. “You won’t even know we’re there.”

Yeah right. How can twenty people, techs and alias alike, be so rowdy?

They’re clinking their champagne glasses together. Smiling. Mingling like they’re in the middle of a club, not my home. But I guess it’s easy to forget when you’re surrounded by this view. Not only is the cityscape of Phoenix framed in one-way glass, the whole house is made from it. And the furnishings are nicer than any club out there. Top of the line. Forget the fact that I have over ten bedrooms. Don’t ask me why I need them. I don’t. I’ve never used any, except for the one me and my robot, Lu, take up residence in.

Maybe that’s why they’ve come. To remind me that there’s more to life than just waiting for my next mission. Waiting for another hit. Another person to extract secrets from. Uncover the truth.

Of course, I can’t remember any of them. Their mind wipe keeps me free from conscience. I feel nothing. Nothing other than the urgency of the mission. Then the nothingness of accomplishment when it’s over.

“Want to join us?” My commander walks up to me. She’s tall, lithe. Like a midnight palm dancing on the slightest breeze.

“No thanks.” I lift the book in my hand. Its pages are worn, some with permanent creases where I’ve folded the pages over to hold my place.

She glances at it without really looking. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning, like I promised. Do you mind if I give Ronin your room for the night?”

I have a suspicion that she’s asking because she knows it’s the best bed in the house. The most comfortable. And she’ll probably be trying to spend the night in there with him.

I shake my head and wave her away. “I’ll probably spend the night out here anyway.”

“Thanks.” She smiles and walks away.

I have a sneaking suspicion she’s planned this. Planned the house, the furnishings, the luxury, so she could drop in with her associates whenever she wishes. The way she moves around the house makes it feel more like hers than mine, even though I’ve been here for as long as I can remember.

My eyes follow her path, colliding with beautiful eyes already staring in my direction. A spark ignites my soul. My jaw loosens as I realize it’s him, Ronin, looking at me. I hold his gaze, a keen look of interest flitting across his gaze. Then his brow furrows, like he’s trying to pull something from his memory. Good luck at that.

I turn my stare back out the window, away from the party. Away from the people who work alongside me, but don’t know me. 

My robot is in sleep mode. Curled up on the sofa like a cat. Another night alone. Another night cuddled up with my only friend.

I sigh and try to shove the feeling of emptiness from my chest. It wiggles its way back in. Why do I feel like something’s missing? Like I’ve lost something or someone. The mind wipe takes away the memories. But it doesn’t take away my feelings. Lost. Love lost. A yearning for little ones in my arms. But that’s impossible. I’ve been with the firm forever. Children were never mine. And a husband…my mind blanks, but my chest expands with an emotion so large, tears fall from my eyelashes.

I glance back at the people standing in my oversized kitchen, flowing into the dining room. There he is. His back is turned to me as he converses with my commander, Nicole. I wonder if that’s her real name. She doesn’t look like a Nicole. But none of us really believe our names and histories anyway. We can be changed, molded into what they want us to be. And that’s okay with me. I’d rather be someone, than no one, and that’s how I feel at this moment. A nobody.

Ronin follows Nicole into my bedroom and a tweak of something stabs my heart.

I take a deep breath and push it away. No room for emotion. I have another mission to accomplish in two days. Another mission that takes me to the far north of our country. Into no-man’s land. A land where I can transform into anyone I want to be.

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

I’m woken by the sound of soft footfalls on the bare tile floor.

My senses are instantly awake, my ears taking over in the darkness.

The even steps carry whoever is awake into the living room. A pause.

I remember that I’m not alone. That this isn’t an intruder, but probably someone getting up for a late-night snack.

I stretch and lift my arms high above my head as push out my legs. My body feels well rested, even though I couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.

My mouth is paper dry, so I decide to join whoever is in my house.

I stumble my waking up muscles into the kitchen, startling the person standing in the middle of it.

A knife is next to my throat, a body corded with muscles I’d been admiring all night long holding me in place.

My body comes to full awareness. My sleep logged muscles tighten, ready to take down the threat. I lift my hand and slip the knife from Ronin’s fingers before he has a chance to slit my throat. Then I twist his arm, pulling it away from my torso. But in the middle of my twist, he somehow spins me, and pulls my body flush with his. But, how would he know that move? I’ve never tried it on anyone.

“It’s you.” He whispers into my hair.

With my arm pinned behind my back, chests pressed together, hearts pumping side by side, body heat mixing, my world tilts and memories fall into place.

We’ve been here before. Not just before. But before. Before we came to this place. To the agency we now work for.

His hands release my arm, my body, and come up to frame my face. “It’s you.” He murmurs again.

His voice pierces my heart, and I feel right. Whole. The emptiness chased away by the sound.

His lips touch mine in a soft embrace. A long-lost caress I didn’t realize was missing until he reminded me.

Once I respond, which feels like the most natural thing, his hands find my hair. The kiss unties a cord that’s locked away the memories of us. Together. In love.

Love. That’s the feeling I’ve been missing. The hollowness in my chest.

I pull back and stare up into his eyes. Even though it’s dark, the shape, the frame of lashes, the light and passion for life behind them are familiar to me. How many times have I considered those eyes? How many times have I fallen for them?

We collapse onto the floor and remember. Remember each other. Remember the love we shared. And share new love. Love that feels so right that my chest bursts from the overwhelming rightness of it all.

He’s soft, gentle. And even though it feels like the first time as he reassures and compliments me, I know we’ve been here before. The way his hands move, his body, how we work together in perfect harmony. This. This is what I’ve been missing. It’s not something you can make up. Or read about in a novel. This is real. This is love. This is what life is all about. And I’ve found it. Remembered it.

He wraps his arms around me, holding on tight. “Where have you been?”

“Here.” I reply, not daring to close my eyes and make this a dream.

He shakes his head. “I’ve had glimpses of a past. Memories that they can’t quite wipe away. They say my mind is too strong. Too stubborn. So they’ve stopped wiping the memories.”

“You mean, you don’t get swept after your missions?”

He shakes his head. “No. I don’t need to anymore. It’s all filed away. I can still focus, even without the wipe. But you. I’ve been trying to find you since the beginning.” He brings his lips to the top of my head and tucks me under his chin. His body is hot, sweaty. I breath in the familiar smell. He lets out a small breath. “It’s crazy, because laying in your bedroom, I could sense you everywhere. Your smell. The way you organize. Your picture. It was all too familiar. But I couldn’t quite figure it all out until you were in my arms.” He presses his cheek to my forehead. “Now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting go.”

As good as those words sound, I know we can’t be together. Not really. “I’m assigned a task in a couple days. I have to fulfill my duties.”

After a long pause, he nods. “Go. Fulfill the job. But come back to me. While you’re gone, I will do some digging.”

I kiss him. A long, slow kiss. A promise to return.

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

Lu and I have the place locked down. There’s nobody left on the jobsite. Only towering cables and a drill rig that casts the late afternoon shadows miles into the distant rolling hills.

I scour the place for evidence of foul play. A man died here. A man that shouldn’t have. A man who held valuable information that could alter the future of the oil industry. And a wealthy company wants to find out who put an end to him.

A slight breeze pulls at my shirt. The humidity has stuck the material to my skin.

“We need to search the shack.” I tell Lu. His robotic legs have him turning in the direction of the trailer before I have a chance to take a step.

I like having him for an assistant. He’s quick, efficient, silent.

The skid shack door creaks as it opens. I shut it behind me and go to work.

The filing cabinets are well ordered and it doesn’t take me long before I find the incident report. It’s detailed, but not to my liking. There’s more information than what’s written here. I find the name of the safety man on the report and do a search on my database. His profile pops up with a phone number. Perfect.

A couple hours later, I’m walking into a hole in the wall café in Keene, North Dakota. There’s a handful of red dirt covered pickups in the gravel lot out front, that match their owners on the inside. I look completely out of place. They know it. I know it. Good thing I left Lu in sleep mode in the back seat of my rental. Nothing says “Out of Town” like a robot.

I try to be as inconspicuous as possible. But they eye me like they’ve never seen a woman before.

I slide into a creaky chair placed by a table in the back. The safety man said he’d be here in thirty. I’m ten minutes early. But I had to check the perimeter. The premises look secure, but who knows.

The front door shoves open and Ronin steps inside. My heart is in my throat before I have a chance to move.

He’s in black. Pure black. Like he wants to blend in. But he should’ve chosen plaid and grease stained work jeans. The oversight on his part shows a lack of consideration. Or he’s in too big of a hurry to notice.

Ronin places a hand on my arm and pulls. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

“But I’m supposed to meet…”

“Now.” He interrupts.

I see the fear in his eyes, the urgency in his voice, and comply.

The customers’ gazes follow our path out the door. They’re probably wondering what just happened in their small town. The scene won’t be of any benefit to my investigation. We probably just sent the word out that someone’s on their turf, sniffing around, and sent the guilty running for cover.

Once outside, he steers me toward an armored SUV. The annoyance comes out of my voice. “Where did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He replies and opens the door. “Get in.”

He slides into the driver’s seat and shoves the vehicle into gear. Rocks make popping noises against the metal as they spray away from the spinning tires. “Where we going? I have Lu back in the rental.”

“I did some digging.” He doesn’t answer my question.

“So?” I reply, putting my hand on the dash to keep myself from falling over as he turns a corner.

“We’re married.” The words sound wooden. An echo of time simplified.

“Married?” I push the word out.

“There’s more.” He says, speeding down a dirt road. “We have kids. Two boys.”

My stomach spills onto the floor boards. “What? How?”

A smirk crosses his face. “You know how.”

I shake my head. “How can you be joking at a moment like this?”

A huge explosion yanks the SUV to the side. He corrects the wheels as I twist to see a drone not twenty yards away, sending shots at our tail.

“Take the wheel.” He instructs as he rolls down the window, pulls a gun from his pocket, and fires.

It takes a few shots, but he finally gets in a shot, plummeting the drone into the badlands soil.

“Why are they after us?”

“Because we’re not supposed to know about who we are.”

I blink away the realization that I’m sitting next to my husband, running for our lives. The life we just found. Trying to hold onto something we just discovered.

“So now what?”

He takes a deep breath, his muscled arms flexing as he steers the SUV down a ravine. He glances around. “This should keep us covered for a bit. But we have to ditch it.” He smiles. “No pun intended.”

I roll my eyes. “What are you proposing?”

“Well, I’ve already proposed, and you’ve said yes. But this time, we run.” He says as he turns to face me. His eyes are full of life. He pulls me into his lap and kisses me like he’s a man who’s seen the sun for the first time.

“But why?” I ask as I pull back, resting our foreheads together. “Won’t the agency let us work side by side?”

He shakes his head. “They don’t allow married people to work together, especially not married people with kids. We’d be distracted. Sloppy. Try to protect each other. Get killed. You name it. Besides, I’m their best agent. You’re their best investigator. They don’t want to lose us. If we go back, they’ll wipe both our memories so clean we won’t even remember our real names.”

“And yet, you cracked this case, not me.”

He smiles. “That’s only because they’ve been too easy on me, not wiping my memories like they should’ve. They’ve come back.”

“You remember?”

He nods.

“What are our kids like? Where are they?”

His smile is warmer than the sun in the sky. He winds his fingers through my hair. “They’re perfect. Just like you.” He pauses, gives me a gentle kiss. His compliment warms my fear-chilled skin. “We’ll find them. Wherever they are.”

“Did you find their location?”

He closes his eyes for a moment before he opens them. Runs a hand through his hair. “The last known location. We’ll head there first. But right now, we need to get out of here. They’ll find our SUV soon.”

“They sent a drone after us. They’re trying to kill us.”

He opens the door and slides the both of us out. “Not kill us, just slow us down so they can catch us. If they wanted to kill us, we’d be dead right now.” He takes my hand and pulls me away from the SUV.

“But what about my case? The murder? Lu?”

He gives me a sad grimace. “I’m afraid we’ll have to leave them behind. Even Lu could become an issue. After all, how do you think they keep such good tabs on you and collect the information you uncover the moment you find it? Besides, Lu isn’t human, Bryn. At any moment, they could pull the trigger and you’d be dead.”

“You mean, Lu is a weapon too?”

He nods and the understanding hits me like a crater from the universe, yanked to the earth by gravity, creating a hole so big it shatters my world.

“They could’ve killed me. Anytime they wanted.”

“They still could, if they feel like you’ve become too big of a problem.”

I shake my head to clear the unwanted thoughts. “I never would have married you if I’d have known you were an agent.”

His eyes crinkle at the edges as he swings me into his arms. “And I never would have married you if I’d have known you’d be the best investigator on the planet. Did you know that every agency across the globe has tried to recruit you? That’s why they sweep your mind every time you finish a case.”

“Really?”

He places a hand on my cheek. I lean into his touch. “If only you knew how amazing you are.”

“And you.” I reply, trying to dodge the compliment. “Let’s use those amazing skills to find our kids.”

He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. The fact that he’s here, ready to get to tackle the impossible, says enough.

He places a tender kiss on my forehead. “To getting our lives back.”

Sticky: Imagine a situation that's very sticky (ie: maple syrup or tape or glue)- and write about it

Drip. Drip. Drip.
I'm lulled awake by the sound.
Drip. Drip.
What is that?
Drip. Drip.
I'm aware of the smell first. Earthy rich. Like warmed soil beneath my fingertips. I want to dig my hands into the aroma. Taste the deliciousness of it.
I'm lying down. Face up. But it's too dark to make out any surroundings. I wonder if I am back in the underground room. But why would that horrible creature of a man bring me back there? There's nothing but mud and moss.
My fingers sink into a thick fur that's stretched out beneath me. It's warm to the touch. I revel in the softness. It's can't be the skins of a normal animal. Their fur is much too coarse. But this, this is something I could bask in forever.
My tongue is dry as I open my mouth and try to swallow. I need water. Cool, moist water. Is that what the dripping noise is? And if it is water, where can I find it?
I blink open my eyes. They're as dry as my mouth, and tiny pieces of salt grate against my lids. The sting burns my eyes and I roll to my side. It's in that movement I realize I'm naked. I gasp and grab for the fur, pulling it up to cover me. To my horror, it's stuck, somehow attached to whatever cushion is beneath. I tug at it to no avail.
Fine. Nudity it is. Not like anyone can see me in this black abyss anyway.
"Hello?" My voice is even more hoarse than it was the last time I spoke. I didn't know that was possible, sounding like a pinched frog.
Humidity washes over me. A fine sheen of moisture clings to my bare skin. A faint touch of air tickles my nose.
I take a deep breath and hold it. Listening. Waiting. The drip is my only answer.
As I swing my legs over the side of the raised makeshift bed, my feet connect with a dirt packed floor. I move them side to side, checking for holes or sharp objects. Nothing assaults me. I risk the standing position.
My limbs are numb. Shaky. They tingle as circulation pounds through my veins, bringing them back to life. I feel like I've died. Been drug behind a horse for days. Bruised. Broken. Held together by pins and needles. 
I wish I could see.
Shapes start to become discernible in the darkness. I squint and rub at my eyes. There. A table pushed against the side of the...dirt? Is that a dirt wall? I truly am stuck back in that room. My body shivers with the thought. But wait. This room is different. Larger. The rounded ceiling higher, carved with large wooden roots entwined overhead. And there, a hollowed spot where some recently burned logs are turned to ash. A small flue opens above it. That must be where the air movement is coming from. And there, on top of the table that has two chairs seated on opposite sides of it, a bucket. The dripping noise is coming from that direction. It has to be water.
My legs propel me forward. My thirst driving me like a drunken lunatic toward the bucket.
As I tip the bucket back, I realize the color is all wrong for water. Instead of clear, it's brown. Like rust. But it's too late to pull back now. The contents flush over my mouth and down my chest as I barely close my lips before the sticky liquid gets inside.
I drop the bucket. It makes a loud clang as the handle hits against the metal side and bounces away.
I wipe at my face. The brown muck doesn't want to come off. It's sticks like honey to my skin. Now the stickiness is all over my arms, my hands, and tangled in my hair.
I stop and hold my arms out, taking a few deep breaths. I must look like a scarecrow. Though it's not a post that holds my back in position. Maybe a risen corpse, standing there with my arms held out, my shoulders hunched forward.
I stare down at my body. Long streaks of whatever carve dirty rivers down my skin. Now what?
Another glance around the room. A wooden doorway is on the opposite wall. Do I chance getting out of here? Or stay put?
Since I have no idea where I am, who I am with, because clearly, someone has been with me, note the lack of clothes, I should probably either find that person, or get the heck out of here.
I stumble toward the door. Another object catches my eyes. It's a long mirror. It appears to have a latch on the side. Like a door.
I brush my fingers against my leg to try and dislodge the goo as best as I can. It proves to be much worse that I thought. The goo is drying and starting to get hard.
The mirror opens with a creak. A wardrobe is behind it. Full of long dresses in muted tones that match the landscape of an autumn forest. The material is heavily woven, made for durability. And some of the pieces have very fine stitching. I notice a strange looking belt hanging from one of the pegs. It's elegant with some sort of fine gems attached to it, enough to pin a person down to earth.
I relatch the door before beginning to hobble toward door. It is indeed, a hobble now. For my skin is held in a crusted shell. It feels like my skin is being pulled away from my muscle. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable.
I cup my hands around my breasts for some semblance of modesty in the darkness and continue on my way. The crunch and crinkle of my movements against the dried glue the only sound in the darkness.
By the time I reach the door, the back of my neck prickles. The feeling that comes with being watched.
I spin and collide with a solid wall. How did that get there?
It takes me a moment to realize that wall is actually a man. Towering over me.
My jaw drops, making a popping noise as the glue cracks.
"What are you doing?" The man's voice is curious, amused. His eyes fall south of mine.
I lurch toward him to attack, my goo ridden skin making all sorts of noise as I shift under it. Some breaks off in bits and falls to the ground, others suck at my skin and tear off hair. I register the surprise in his eyes before we connect.
The impact catches him off guard and he stumbles backward. My fingers jam into his hair as I grab and get ready to snap his neck if he does anything against my will. My legs now wrap around his arms, pinning them to his sides. My face, inches above his as I tip his head back to look at me. A lesser man would've fallen, but he somehow caught his balance, and he now stands with me attached to him. Literally.
My breathing is heavy from the sudden onslaught of adrenaline. I can't believe I caught him so easily. Usually my face tells of my plans before I act on them. I must be getting even better at my attacks.
"Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
His eyes. They're his eyes. The man I'm bonded to. A glacial calculation held within.
"Shouldn't I be asking the questions?" He lifts an eyebrow. It's annoying and I tighten my grip in his hair, pulling a few strands from the scalp.
He tries to lift his hands as if in surrender, but I don't loosen my grip, only clamp down harder. My muscles are cramping from the sudden effort, but I tell them to shut up and obey.
"Why?"
"Because this is my hideout. And you're the one who's in my care."
"Yeah because you knocked me out, then stole my clothes. How do you think I feel waking up with nothing on, and a mouth as dry as a desert?"
He tries for a shrug. "Must've been pretty bad from the looks of it."
I register that he's smirking. Looking at me like I'm some sort of wild animal he intends to kill slowly. That's not going to happen.
I move his head back further and to the side. A necklace encircles his neck. The chain falling beneath his shirt that's...heaven forbid...I realize I'm naked, and my bare breasts are pressed up against his ample pectorals, bubbling up like two rounded hills. If he were to look down, he'd come face first with...And my legs, wrapped around him like a rope, my nether regions flush against his abs. My legs tremble. What was I thinking? Stupid. Stupid girl.
He seems to read my mind. Curse my honest face. The realization must be written all over. He takes advantage of my pause, somehow yanking his arms from beneath my legs and grabbing my forearms. I have no doubt that he can break my hold. After all, he just broke my leg hold. But now he's the one hesitating, as if he knows that by pulling me off, he will be exposed to my full nakedness. But why should that affect him, if he's the one caring for me.
"Why am I naked?" The question pops out before I can reel it back in.
He tries to tip his head to the side, but my hands hold fast. So he squints like I'm a puzzle he can't solve. "Because you were filthy, and your clothes were covered in blood and sweat. Took me two days trying to clean them before I gave up and threw them into the fire. My sister, Annaleigh, rummaged up some clothes for you. They're in the wardrobe. You could've put them on, but I see you've dirtied yourself again." He pauses, considering. "Is this some sort of habit of yours?"
A growl grows in my throat. Two days? I've already lost two days. I have no idea where I am or how I can get back to my friends. I begin to chalk up a list in my head of questions that need answering, pronto. 
Now what? Should I unleash him? Tell him to close his eyes while I'm doing it? Yeah right...that's not at all cowardly. But if he hasn't hurt me yet, that means he won't hurt me, right? I shake my head, trying to come up with the right solution to my predicament.
I look down at his face, considering him. Does he look malicious? Should I fear him? Of course I should, he's knocked me out and taken me captive. I have no idea where I am. Who he is. Anything.
His fingers tighten on my arms and I stiffen. "Are we going to stay like this all day? Because if we are, I'd like to know now."
My cheeks warm. I know I'm blushing but I doubt he can see it under the brown mess.
"Not all day, but I'm not going to release you just yet."
A smile forms on his lips but doesn't quite open over his teeth. "You, release me?"
"I choose not to be offended by that statement." Even though in the back of my mind I know he's in charge. That at any moment he could tire of me clinging to him and break my hold. I'm grateful he's being merciful in his own way, letting me cover myself, even if it is with him.
He takes a few steps over to one of the chairs by the table and pulls it out before sitting. The position puts me in an even more precarious situation, since I am sitting on his lap now, naked.
He seems to sense the frustration fighting for release in my eyes, because he lets out a breath like a huff. "Ready to move yet?"
"Not quite." I grit my teeth. "Why am I here?"
"Because we're bonded."
"Bonded. What does that even mean?" I lessen my grip on his hair so he can look at me.
"It means, you stupid little fool, that you drank my blood and became connected to me."
"I did not drink your blood!"
"Drank. Gagged. Same thing. It doesn't matter what you call it. It only matters what you did. And you did, swallow. So now we are together."
"How can swallowing," I make sure to emphasize the swallowing part to show him my skepticism, "your blood make us connected? I've swallowed plenty of blood in my lifetime and never had this happen. What's different about you?"
"I'm not human. Despite what you think or see. And neither are you."
My brain rears back like he's slapped me. "Not human? Yeah right. I'm the most human you can find, right down to the core. Emotions, flesh, blood. All of it."
He nods. "Right."
"So what, am I some type of vampire?" I scoff at the impossibility. This man is off his rocker. "Or, oooo...let me guess...a werewolf. Rarrrr..."
He sneers at me. "You're not some unrealistic being that's never existed, nor ever will exist. Humans make up some dumb, senseless tales to frighten themselves. You've been an unlucky recipient of their stories."
"Uh huh. And so what does that make me?"
"Something you've never heard of, nor will you, from me. If you want to find out, you'll have to discover it on your own. It's not something you can be told. It's something you become through learning our ways."
I roll my eyes. "Yeah. Right. And that doesn't sound crazy at all now does it?"
"And this is why I promised myself I would never be bonded to anyone. Not in a million years. And somehow I get stuck with someone like you. Someone who will jump first and think second. You, with no imagination. Nor any sense."
My blood boils. My veins steaming from the inside out, making my body hot like lava. How can he claim to know me when we've just met? And if this is really the way he feels about me, then how could he accept a bond with me? Didn't he yell at me for stealing his blood from him? It's not like I want this. If I would've known smashing his nose was going to bring such a terrible fate, then I would've saved us both the trouble and let him kill me.
The man's complexion pales before he sucks in a breath. I smell the burning flesh before I see it. Red blisters pop and blood oozes down his shirt from where my skin connects with his. I'm burning. My skin, red. The sticky substance sizzling on my overheated skin.
I yank my body back, trying to get away from him, but my fingers somehow get caught in his hair and sizzle the ends.
I gasp, thinking of ice. Cold, cold ice. My skin freezes over. I can't move. Can't breathe. I'm freaking out, but there's nothing I can do. My body is literally frozen. Stuck in place. Attached to this monster beneath me.
"Alright! Calm this madness!" His voice pierces my shock. His hands run up and down my arms, my back, soothing. "You need to calm down. Take a deep breath. Think of something good. A happy memory. Anything."
I clamp my eyes closed and concentrate. My mind struggles to find a path through the iceblock that's lodged in my coherent thoughts. Happy memory. Something good.
Lila and me playing outside under the wide open sky. Not a cloud in sight. Only blue. Endless blue. The air, so calm and crisp in springtime. The newborn grass under my feet, painting the hillside green. A tiny tulips popping up, readying to open their faces to the sunshine. It's peaceful. There's no war. There's no pain. No loss. Just the two of us. Stuck in that moment. Content. Happy to be alive.
I hold onto the memory like a lifeline. It warms my skin again. Tingles run down my arms, all the way to my feet. I feel hot after being frozen. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it's just the adjustment from the severe cold.
"Good. Now, open your eyes."
I do as he administers. His blisters are gone. There's nothing but smooth skin peaking out from his holey, roasted clothes. How he heals himself is a mystery. One I would like to know.
He runs his hands over my face. My hair. Until suddenly his hands are stuck in the knot at the ends where the brown stickiness has captured him. He stares at his hand, then brings it closer to his face as if to sniff.
"What is this stuff?" He takes a deep breath. "Oh..."
I become aware of the heat radiating through his shirt. The way it warms my own body. How it makes me sort of breathless now that we're not fighting. And I realize I've pulled back, exposing my nakedness to him. He doesn't seem to notice or care, but I quickly cover myself as best I can.
There's a subtle dip in the middle of his top lip. And his full bottom lip is parted from the top from the last word he spoke. I'm mesmerized. I can't stop staring. It's like an invisible string is pulling me forward, urging me to take just one taste. What would he feel like? Like all the other boys I've kissed? Or something more? Like magic? Because I feel like there's some sort of magic going on here.
"What are you doing?" A female voice shakes me free from the trance. "Why are you out of bed already? You should be resting."
My gaze darts to the door where a tall woman with a braid over her shoulder is standing with her arms crossed.
Another man enters the room, leaning over the woman with an arm on the door frame. "Well darling, just take a look. It's not that hard to see. They've accepted the bond. Now she really can be everything, as he."
The woman shoots him a quizzical look before returning her gaze to us. "Huh. Doesn't look like that to me."
I don't know whether to move or stay. To correct his wrong assumption or not.
"Oh come on. You remember the way we were when we first bonded. Couldn't get enough of each other when we were left in a room alone. She's healed. Strong. Look at her. She's got him pinned, not the other way around."
"Then why is the bucket of mastic sap all over her and not him? And why is he still dressed? Well, kinda. What are those holes doing in his clothes? Do I even want to know?"
Don't these people have any revulsion to nudity? She says it as if it's just the time of day.
The man seems stumped at this revelation. He shrugs and pouts out his lower lip.
"Helam, explain." The woman is now staring at the man whose lap I am in.
I turn to question him. I want to know what just happened as much as she does. If not more. I became a beakon of fire. Then a block of ice. That can't be normal. Can it?
He's staring at me. At my eyes. Searching. Filled with their own questions. Instead of icy pools of death, they're warm summer skies. Cloudless. As if he can see me through eternity with their depths.
Again, I feel that pull. That yearning. It's deeper this time. Somewhere within my soul, not just my heart.
The room feels like it's holding its breath. So still that time doesn't dare move. Neither do I.
His hand slides up the back of my head. My hair goes with it, lifting and tangling into a bigger mess. He tips my head forward, angling it toward him. I'm so caught up in the moment, in his eyes that I barely feel his lips as they cover mine in a gentle caress. He stills for a moment, letting our skin warm against the embrace. My lips move to fit into the groove of his, the touch sending a ripple of energy through my skin, my muscles, the sinew that holds me together. Then he's pulling away, with a protest not only from my body, but also from the glue that wants to seal our lips together forever. His eyes hold mine. Still questioning. Beckoning.
"See, told you it's over. A sealed deal. They're off for eternity now." The man's voice is jovial.
"Ugh. That was a fast change for mister, 'I want to be alone for eternity.' You two can find us later." The woman sounds exasperated as she slams the door shut.
We're alone again. And the full awareness of our situation hits me again.
"Helam." I say his name, letting the word sink in.
"Jentry." He replies.
"How did you know my name?"
"Your friend. What was her name?" He pauses to remember. "Oh yeah, Remy. She shouted it as I knocked you out."
"Right before you stole me away to this hell hole?"
He smiles. The motion opens his lips over straight teeth. And his cheeks have deep parentheses plated in them. I stare, dumbfounded. Maybe I really am unimaginative, because I have never seen anyone so handsome in my life. I suddenly feel a strange urge to laugh. Or cry. Because what are the chances that I get caught up in this mess, and it is a mess, a huge one, where I can burn or freeze, and I can be bonded to someone like this? Whatever he is.
"Yes. Right before."
"Are you going to tell me where we are? Or maybe explain any of this?" I try to motion toward my body without releasing too much.
"With time."
And with that, he simply vanishes, leaving me straddling the chair, with the goo all over me, feeling hopeless and helpless. Completely incapable of navigating my life anymore.
The door opens again. This time the woman holds a towel and some soaps. "How about we get you washed up before supper?"

Write about running away from someone or something

"Boarding flight 298, section one," the announcer's voice is a piercing blade to my heart. It makes me realize that this is not a dream. That I really am at the airport, standing next to my son.
I've dreamed about this moment many times. It usually comes across as a nightmare. Something I didn't look forward to, but knew was coming. It's not that I want him to stay home and never leave the nest, because I know he's an adult, but instead of seeing the eighteen year old young man I have raised, I still see the four year old who ran to me for kisses on his boo boos. The six year old who asked me for help with reading his papers and tying his shoes. The ten year old who secretly came to me for reassurance when he'd had a bad dream. The twelve year old with braces who cried behind the bedroom door because someone had bullied him at school. But those years are gone, replaced by my tall, strong, and handsome son, who now looks down at me instead of up. 
His voice is confident as he speaks with the attendant who runs the ticket counter. She blushes as he smiles.
I look away and ask myself the same questions that have been running through my head for the last couple days.
Did I pack him an extra pair of socks? Does he have enough white shirts? Will he be okay without me? Have I prepared him to live on his own? How will he survive the heat? Humidity? Learning a different language? Will he have good companionships? Enough food to eat?
"Have a great flight." The attendant's voice pulls me back to the present.
The luggage is gone, taken away by the moving track that circles around to grab more. I stare at it, wondering how many people have stood in my shoes and wondered where the time has gone.
It can't be time. I refuse to accept the fact that in a few steps, the last minutes of my borrowed time will be over. That I'll have to say goodbye.
"It's okay to cry." My son's face comes into view. We've made it to the end of the security line. "I'd be insulted if you didn't."
"Because if I cry, you know I love you?" I ask as I stare up at him. His brown hair is parted, compatible with the dark grey suit he is wearing. All grown up. And he looks the part.
It's time to let go. But why am I finding it so hard? I've raised him for this. Prepared him to be on his own from the time he could walk. Taught him as many life lessons as possible from the safety of our home. It's time for him to spread his wings and fly. He's no longer mine to guide.
He answers with a hug. "I love you, mom. I promise to write." He pauses and I wonder if he's collecting himself, holding back his own emotions. "It's only two years."
When he pulls back, tears hang on his lashes. "Two years." I echo.
I wish I had some amazing words of advice. Something strong enough to get him through the rough patches of his mission. But all I have are emotions. So strong they threaten to overthrow all rational and fall to my knees and beg him to stay. But I can't do that. That would be selfish. Insulting to him and his choices. I must support him. Support him in this decision. It's what I've been preparing him for for the last eighteen years. An opportunity to serve the Lord's children through humble service, and declaring the glad tidings that the fullness of the gospel has been restored to the earth, and that all mankind may be saved through the atonement of Jesus Christ.
He takes a step away. My heart go with him. I memorize his face. His features. I know he will change by the time I see him again, so I want to remember every detail in this moment.
The line carries him away. Soon, he stands at the edge of the elevator, a hand in the air. A final farewell. I mirror his gesture before I bring my hands to my lips and send him one last goodbye.
As he disappears around a corner. My heart crumbles. I can't hold in the emotions any longer. My strength is spent. My heart is gutted out. No longer inside my own chest. I turn and run away. Away from the pain. Away from the prying eyes. Away from reality.

What if your mirror started talking to you

I look forward to the mornings. To see you first out of bed, hair a mess, and dark circles under your eyes. As the natural person you are. Maybe it's because I get to see the real you all day. The way you laugh. The way you love. The way you serve. I get to see what you don't see in yourself. And no matter what is on the outside, it's the inner beauty that impresses me. The inner beauty that I admire.
I see you over there. Washing clothes. Washing kiddos in the bathtub. Wiping floors. Cleaning the room like you're going to take your next meal on the toilet. Don't think you have me fooled. I see you wash your hands before you touch your baby. Before you take a meal. It's commendable, really. And your dry, cracked hands are evidence of your dedication to cleanliness.
I see you smile at your husband. The sparkle in your eye unlike any other. Your love shining through. I see you laugh at a joke he's made. Run your fingers through his hair. Give him a kiss on the cheek. Embrace him when he needs reassurance. Or stare into the mirror as he tells you he's been laid off, searching me as I search you, wishing I could give you the answers you seek.
I see you lock the door and cry when you've lost someone you love. Or found out about a friend in need. I see your mascara make tracks down your cheeks. The display of pain, so real that I wish I had arms to wrap around you. I am always there. Yet you never see me.
I see you chasing your four year old through the house, trying to convince him to take a bath, turning it into a game. Wrapping him in a towel at the end, and carrying him to bed. I see you brush his teeth, his hair, washing his fingers and toes and face. How many times have you counted those toes and sang him funny songs? Or made him laugh with your funny faces? I watch and listen. Always waiting to see what will come next.
I see you carrying your newborn. Wrapping him in a blanket. Singing him to sleep. His soft coos an affirmation of his love for you. His chubby hands wrap around your hair and pull. Fists full. And tiny little toes that you tickle. Spit up on your shirt, that you try to wipe away.
I sit and I watch. Always still. Always silent. If only I had a voice. A voice to tell you well done. To validate you. To cheers you on. One that says the right words. One that could comfort your broken heart. If only...
I see you at the end of a long day; weary, tired. Some days, you look of accomplishment. Others, defeat. But no matter how the day ends, you're always there the next morning. With a smile. A yawn. And it's that knowledge, that you'll always be there, that keeps me hanging on. Waiting for the day when you'll realize just how special what you do for everyone else really is. Because without you, there would be no them. And life would be empty for all of us.

Imagine you are someone's shadow for the day...

He walks to the edge of trees, taking one last glance over his shoulder before he goes. His family's cabin sits on a hill not far away. The leftover smoke from the fire lifts into the sky on a gentle breeze. I can still smell that smoke in the air, on his clothes. The scratchy wool jacket he wears over his threadbare cotton shirt, itches at his skin, making it red. He pulls at the collar.
The dead grasses from last fall pull at his boots as he steps over fallen branches and scrub. They rejoice in the lightness of the air, quite the contrast to the heavy snow that's plagued them all year. Tiny green shoots spring forth at their base, a hope and promise of spring.
Birds fill the forest with song. Each of them dancing to their own tune. Bringing their own personality into the world. Their wings cast shadows through the sunlit branches, still bare. He looks up as if he's admiring the different colored wings. They seem to follow him, as if they know what serious journey he is on.
The place isn't far. Just another stretch or so. But it's been a few weeks since he's visited. The place he's designed to go for some time now. He's been waiting for the right time. For the courage. For the feeling inside his chest to let him know that it's time. And this morning, he knew, with every fiber of his being, he knew that today, he would walk into the forest and ask God a simple question that held the most importance.
He recites the scripture, James 1:5, aloud. "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him."
Never had any passage of scripture pierced his heart like that scripture. For how to act, he did not know. And as for wisdom, he knew he lacked, as uneducated as he was. So he decided to do as the scripture foretold, that is, ask of God.
Which brings him to this place. This forest, in upstate New York.
His pants are sticking to his legs by the time he reaches his destination. The wet dew has crawled up his legs. He rubs his hands down his arms and lets out a breath. It becomes a white puff with the chill.
The forest is alive with life, but there's a feeling, an energy, like it's holding its breath, waiting for him to kneel and ask his question.
His knees become instantly soaked as they hit the almost frozen ground. He removes his wool cap and twists it in his hands. A restless weight hangs in the air. Taking a moment to collect himself, he closes his eyes and counts to ten. The forest stills, quiets. In the back of my head, I feel a warning. But he must ask the question.
"Dear God," he begins his prayer. His words shake. His voice scratchy. Never before has he prayed vocally, and the moment is recorded in heaven.
I'm crippled. My body being ripped from limb to limb. Torment, unlike any I've known tears through my chest. I've lost my grip on reality. On myself. I can't even recall my name.
His body hits the earth with a thud.
It's a dull recollection compared to the overwhelming dark power I'm feeling inside. Fear deeper than the ocean's valleys. Pain stronger than human can bear. Hate, so bitter I can taste it. Or is that blood from biting my tongue? I struggle to grasp my thoughts. Any thought. But the power  holds me captive, bending my body in on itself. I wrestle with the darkness, trying to see, but even the forest has silenced, darkened beyond sight. What being wields this darkness? This power? How can one so evil exist?
I pry my eyes open and see that he appears to be wrestling the same darkness. For his muscles bulge at his neck. His fingers look like claws. And one hand wraps around his leg like he's trying to still a wild bull.
"Please God," he murmurs. Struggling to get the words to emerge. "Please, help me."
A pillar light so bright that it defies the sun, shatters the darkness.
His body sags in sudden relief.
The pain and anguish, suffering is gone. I'd forgotten what it felt like to feel whole. How good. Blissful, even. My body sighs in relief.
He lifts an arm to shield his eyes, for the light is blinding, then rises to look up.
Standing before him in the air are two personages, dressed in white. Their brightness and glory defy all description.
I squint against the light, trying to focus my eyes. My body is bathed in warmth. Surrounded by a tangible blanket of love and acceptance.
"Joseph," one of the men calls him by name, pointing to the other. "This is My Beloved Son. Hear him."
The boy gathers himself. So astonished by the look on his face, that he has to take a deep breath, but then words tumble out of his mouth.
"Which of the religious sects is right, so that I might know which one to join?"
The Son, gives a perceptible shake of his head before he answers. "You must join none of them."
Both he and I are taken back. His jaw drops, and my mind tumbles to a stop. How can it be? There are so many different religions upon the earth. One of them has to be correct.
The Son is still speaking and I struggle to keep up. "...they draw near to me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me, they teach for doctrines the commandments of men, having a form of godliness, but they deny the power thereof."
Time ceases to exist as The Son continues. So much information, I cannot contain it all.
I find myself standing over the boy, who is lying on his back, looking up into the heavens from whence the two personages came. They appear to have left, the forest alive with life, rejoicing again in the warming day. Do the animals and plants realize the importance of the event that just took place? Do I?
The boy's lips move of their own accord. He looks dazed, as if his spirit has overcome his body. I wait next to him. Wait for him to speak. To jump up and do something. For now that he has his questions answered, from God Himself, what will he do? Where will he go? Will he change the world? Will his words be believed? Will I believe?
I know that God has restored His church upon the earth, including the power to act in His name through the priesthood. It contains the fullness of the gospel. He has called prophets and apostles. He leads and guides His children through them. All we have to do, is listen. We don't need a vision. A heavenly messenger. We only need faith. Then determination to act on that faith. To follow in the Lord's footsteps. And maybe someday, we can change the world, just like this humble, innocent, 14 year old boy. If only I could be a shadow. This is an event I would love to witness.