I watch as the prison guard shackles my hands and feet, the chains jangling. If you distance yourself away enough, it sounds a little like tinkling chimes... a broken music box. Huh. Who'd have thought it.

It's been a kind of haze, I've been living in. I've been living in a kind of 'half-light'. I wonder if I'm in shock?

Probably.

She's gone, isn't she? So what does that make me?

I knew every line, every curve, every part of her face. But now all I see is those blond curls. Blood-soaked, blonde curls.

She drove me to it. To madness. A momentary lapse of control.

But the way she was saying hello to that store clerk. The way the guy at the gas pump looked at her. The way the preacher's eyes lingered on her for that second too long when he passed her the hymn sheet...

She said she wasn't doing anything. But she knew what she was doing. She just had to stand there and look pretty and men flocked. She just oozed... appeal.

Yeh, she drove me too it.

Her fault.

That's when I became a monster.

And I plead... I plead not guilty.

Grip my heart Seize my mind Everything slows but time Beacon that Fear is, shines Solace, I’ve left behind.

Panic seizes my heart. Can’t breathe, My breath’s too short All that I want is to Stop.

Scream. Scream. Rabbit hole, down I go Mind pleads, No, no, no, no, no, no.

Breathe. Breathe. World spins to fast, I know. All that I want is to Stop.

Think. Think. Too fast, too deep, too slow. Forget everything that I know

Pause. Pause. Catch my breath. Wait, don’t go. All that I want is to Stop.

——

(This is not a volta as the prompt sets out. Just a free form poem that came to me this morning )

Jewel slowly descended the wire that she'd thrown down from the skylight of the great domed roof and paused. Her eyes scanned the vast space, barely lit by the kiss of moonlight that shone from above, ears straining to catch any rustling, any footsteps, any sign of life.

Silence.

Okay then. Show time.

She nimbly descended the remainder of the rope, sliver knife clenched between her teeth before landing on her feet like a cat in the night. Palm flat on the floor, she crouched and scanned the area once more.

The tick, tick, ticking of a clock to her right.

But aside that?

Nothing. Not a sound. Not a movement. Just the particles of dust hanging lazily in the air, caught in the moon's light that shone like her silent guide.

Convinced she was alone, and not being watched, Jewel stood up abruptly and sauntered over to a nearby glass cabinet, twirling her dagger nonchalantly in her hand as she moved. She peered over the first flat glass cabinet that stopped at her waistline. A golden crown bedecked with the brightest of sun-colored jewels sparkled back at her from inside its glassy-walled tomb.

Jewel meandered between the glass cabinets, but to no avail. She knew it was in here somewhere. She knew it. She scrunched her nose. Where could it be?

And then she saw it. A few feet away from her, in an oversized cabinet that was perhaps twice as tall as her, and nestled on a russet velvet cushion inside, was the wand.

The Wand of Asomere.

Jewel's lip curled. "There you are, baby," she purred softly as she began circling the cabinet slowly.

The wand was nothing much to look at. Just a roughly hewn stick of wood, with notches here and there, up and down its shaft. But appearances could be deceiving. And this wand? Well, it was the height of deceit in that respect.

Command this wand, and you could command armies. Or, at least that's what she'd been told. Although, she'd guessed that it had to be the best kept secret of the millennia. Else they wouldn't have kept it here, of all places.

Her eyes narrows as she examined a glass door on the cabinet's side, and its tiny metal handle.

Too obvious.

Her chin lifted upwards towards the top of the cabinet. There... she could see a square-shaped, glass inlay. Another way into the cabinet.

Jewel looked around her. There was nothing around her to jump from. Bookcases were too far away. Other cabinets... well they would likely be booby-trapped.

Her eyes flitted up to the balcony above her. Now that... that could work.

Eyes still fixed on the balcony she reached for her back pocket and pulled out another coil of hanging wire. Time for another descension.

Within moments, Jewel had climbed along the stairway bannister, up to the floor above the cabinet, and over to the balcony lip that overhung it by just a smidge too much. Hanging wire fastened, she kicked the back of each booted heel into the plush, red carpeted floor, almost like she was preparing to charge. She was charging all right, but not to jump - that charge would help her get away unseen if something should go awry. Not that it would but you could never be too careful. She hadn't got this far in her... 'career'... by being careless.

Knife between gritted teeth once more, Jewel dove silently towards the cabinet, head-first, stopping only within arms-length of the cabinet's top. And with a deep breath in, she began to swing slowly to the left, then to the right, gradually building slow momentum with each swing until got her closer and closer to the top of the tall glass cabinet.

Tentatively, Jewel reached out a gloved hand, touching one finger to the very cabinet's top edge. And holding herself in place, arm extended, Jewel paused.

Nothing.

With a deep breath in, Jewel slowly grabbed her knife from her mouth and gently moved herself over the center of the tall glass cabinet's top, her mouth quirking upwards in a slight smile. Sure enough there was a square piece of glass that had been inset into the cabinet's roof. It just needed to be carefully levered out. And that? Well, that was her forte.

Gently, every so gently, Jewel edged the tip of the knife into the groove between the square glass inlay and the surrounding cabinet roof. Easy now...

But she hadn't even begun to wiggle the knife when her heart jumped to her throat. She sucked in a breath as blazing white lights bathed her entire body, and red ember-like spheres appeared from nowhere, all trained on her head.

Flamed Targets.

She cursed under her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as a cacophony of voices shouted at her to remain still.

"Jewel Court, remain still!" shouted a male voice, whose volume had been made deafeningly loud via magical means. "You are being detained for the attempted theft of a Forbidden Instrument. Do not resist! I repeat! Do not resist!"

She knew that voice. Denner. Bane of her life. She should have known.

Slowly, Jewel extended her hands out to form an upside down cross-shape, palms splayed as a sign of surrender. She clenched her jaw as she peered into the blinding white light that seemingly swallowed her whole, spotted by those hovering red embers that shot red jets of focused light towards her head.

She could see nothing. But if she squinted and focused, she could just about see three black-clad figures ascend the stairs to her right, up to the balcony from which she had plummeted moments before.

Jewel trained her features, using all her will not to let the corner of her mouth quirk into a smile again. They were watching her - every slight movement, every facial expression. She'd have to be quick, she knew it. And so she just hung there, perfectly still, her hands stretched out as she inhaled slowly. And just as slowly, she breathed out a slow stream of air on the exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Steady, steady...

She felt a tug on the hanging wire as they cut her free from above, and immediately, she brought her knees into her chest, then kicked her legs outwards and downwards. Her body followed suit as she twisted completely, to land on her heels with one immense kick of both feet.

And as chaos erupted around her, and as her eyes trained on Denner's wide eyes as he stood in front of her, mouthing orders to his soldiers, that lop-sided grin reappeared on Jewel's face just as she disappeared from view, as though she was never there. She silently thanked her Cloaking Boots. Those things were worth all the gold in the realm and more.

And as Denner and the soldiers ran forward, clasping at air, where she once had stood, Jewel silently weaved in and out of them, she, the invisible intruder, backing away until well out of reach.

She shot the Wand of Asomere one last remorseful look. Not this time, she supposed. But she'd be back.

And as Denner and his men swarmed the domed space in search of the thief they had searched so long for, Jewel stole away.

Away.

Away.

Like a cat in the night.

Humphrey stifled a yawn and edged his hand towards the plate of biscuits again. Surely, one more wouldn’t hurt.

His eyes flitted up at the oversized clock that hung on the mahogany-paneled wall and groaned inwardly. Why did time seem to slow to snails’ pace whenever the board congregated like this?

“Good, good! Let’s move onto the next item on the agenda then,” said Witherby as he shuffled his papers and peered over his wire-rimmed spectacles. Humphrey clenched his jaw. Witherby’s glasses were wonky. Why didn’t the man ever take the care to adjust his glasses?

Humphrey’s wiry fingers surreptitiously reached for the last chocolate biscuit on the plate. At least there were biscuits. Biscuits always made the time go faster.

He was biting into the chocolate biscuit when, all of a sudden, the door burst open. A red-cheeked Arthur ran into the room, holding on to the door-knob to stop himself from colliding with the huge mahogany meeting table that Humphrey and his six other colleagues sat at.

“She’s done it!” Arthur gasped out, as he bent over panting, “She’s… done it!”

The full attention of the room snapped to the ruddy cheeked, panting young man as he grasped his stomach and winced. “Ouch. Stitch…” he said, gesturing to his midriff.

“Done… what?” Witherby said with a frown, peering over his spectacles that were now dangling precariously near the edge of his nose.

“The portal!” Arthur said through gulps of breath, with a wide grin. “I ran over from the lab as soon as I could. She’s done it!”

Humphrey’s eyes narrowed. Surely not...

"What do you mean, 'done' it?" he said, cautiously putting his biscuit back down on the table.

"The portal! It's working! We can finally access the Sapphire Bridge again. You can see it clearly! Come, come!" Arthur said, barely containing himself with excitement.

An excitement filled the room as Humphrey's other colleagues began to exclaim with glee, rising from their seats. But Humphrey? No. Humphrey remained seated as he held his breath.

This wasn't good.

If they could access the Sapphire Bridge again, then they'd be able to access the High Meadows Asylum. Well... they would if they looked hard enough. And that wouldn't do. For that is where he hid her.

And no-one could find her. Have her.

So he guessed it was time to end that. It was unfortunate, of course, as he'd grown fond of her. But sometimes you have to make tough decisions, for she was more risky to him alive than she was dead.

Heron glanced down at the wheelbarrow and looked behind him. He'd been pruning the hedges more slowly than he could have been doing. Far slower. Anything to extend the time before the Prince would deem it safe for him to pass through the magical wall of thorny roses.

His eyes flitted back to the wheelbarrow below him. Beautiful, oversized, luscious pink roses that sparkled and glinted in the sun lay crumpled within its metal bed. Huge, blood-red thorns protruded from their black stalks, the slightest sting from which, would send one into the realm of death before your face hit the ground.

Must have been well over his hundredth barrow-load. He wasn't sure. He'd lost count. But still... slowly.

But it wasn't because Heron was wary of being mortally wounded. For he knew he wouldn't. The magical blood that pulsed through his veins saw to that. Being a high fae had its advantages.

No, the reason for stalling was because of what lay on the other side. Or moreover, who.

She was beautiful. The sleeping beauty who lay dreaming in the gray, stony castle that loomed on the other side of the wall of thorns. He'd seen her. Because he'd made his way through that wall many a time. His nimbleness and grace allowing him to maneuver through the thorns with minimal damage to his moon-kissed skin.

The first time he saw her, he knew. He felt his heart answer hers. Something he could not quantify - a feeling that was just out of reach to put into words. But oh so all-encompassing. She was his mate. He knew it.

And so there he stood, that first time, deliberating what to do. For he did not know if waking her would hurt the delicate beauty he stood over. And hurt her - he could never, would never.

And so, he had spent all his free time scouring the great libraries for how to break her curse without his high-fae skin touching hers and thus, possibly shooting her to her death within moments. He searched for a way to wake her without hurting the fragile being. But so far, to no avail.

And so he stalled. He slowly removed a rose, one at a time. Slowly filled that wheelbarrow. And when it was barely half full, he would walk it over to the bonfire that lay a few fields away, all the while, his mind racing, trying to figure out a way to free her before the prince forced himself on her.

Because he would. And that, Heron would never allow.

Not her.

Not her.

It's funny - the thoughts you think about when life gets so grave that your mind just needs to escape. For Venus, it was Cedric. Who would look after him? He was just a plant. A sad looking plant at that, but...

Her head jerked up towards the high, tiny, barred window above her as she heard the raucous crowd jeering. They must have brought him out. He must be there. So close.

Her heart clenched and she swallowed, her eyes stinging. What could she do? What... could she do?

Her eyes fell down to the dark, dank stone floor on which she knelt. And hugging her arms against the piercing coldness, she gazed into nothing. Her mind spiralling into a daze fused with sorrow, and edged with an empty defeat that seemed to echo through the halls of her soul. And oh, such weariness.

She just wanted to lay her head down on the cold floor and close her eyes. To never wake up. Maybe then the nightmare would end.

Someone began announcing something, raising a deep, callous voice that was barely heard over the roaring crowd.

She would not listen.

No.

She would not listen to him being taken up to the gallows.

And yet her senses could not help but swim out to him, gliding and swooping through the souls between he and her.

And there he was. The one soul she never thought she'd encounter. The one soul who would have her heart well beyond his last breath and far into eternity.

Venus sucked in a sob with a sharp breath and shut her eyes tight. She had lost count of the hours she'd tried to figure out how it would not come to this. But all roads led here. All roads.

And as she heard the swish of the cold blade slam down, her whole body jerked, just as though someone had ripped her heart from her very soul.

And as a single tear fell down her cheek, she curled in on herself, arms around her chest, cocooning herself on that cold stone floor.

But not much longer now. For tomorrow, she would meet the same fate as he. And their hearts will finally find each other again.

Until tomorrow.

Yes. Stay the course, Venus. Until tomorrow.

Vines grow wild here Twisting into windows Over the rooftops And through the dreams of the city dwellers Who know nothing other than these vines That suck the air dry of its vitality And the life from their souls. For, to them, nothing is out of the ordinary To gasp for their next breath To sleep fitful nights Of stifled nightmares To live days bound in these organic chains. For this is the city that squeezes dry Every ounce of life force Until it leaves you on the precipice Of life and death.

The cashier’s hand tensed as he grabbed on to the brown paper bag a little too long. He wasn’t letting go.

I clenched my jaw and tried to ease my groceries out from his grasp, eyes flitting back at the line of people slowly building behind me.

My stomach growled, an indication of how long it had been since I’d eaten. Too long.

I inadvertently glanced at the cashier’s face to see that all-too knowing look of puppy-dog love staring back at me. I shouldn’t have come out.

“Thank you,” I muttered, yanking my paid groceries free and all but running out of the mini-supermarket.

I yanked my hood back over my head and strode purposefully back towards the nearby abandoned caravan park I’d taken solace in. 529 steps, 528 steps, 527…

I’d made it to the corner, eyes fixed on the pavement when a pair of scuffed black boots stepped out in front of me.

“There you are,” said a gruff sounding voice.

My eyes trailed up to meet the bearded, grisly face of the guy I’d encountered 2 months ago. 8 long weeks ago since our first and only encounter. And still, he looked at me with that all-too unsettling and besotted look that all males gave me, with no exception.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, taking a step closer. “Where did you go, beautiful?”

I looked back at the pavement and stepped around him. But he mirrored my steps, placing himself in my path.

“I just want to,” he said, eyes wide and extending his hand to touch my arm.

With a reflex reaction, my hand flew to grab his wrist, my bag of groceries falling and bursting open on the ground. As if stung by a swarm of bees all at once, he snapped his hand back and yelped.

“Argh! What did you do that for, you…”

I took off past him at a run, leaving my groceries sprawled on the pavement, littered around the man bent over, cradling his arm, and words slowly coming to a halt before he paused momentarily. The Daze was starting, that would give me time to disappear. He would ‘come to’ in an hour, maybe a few, who knew, with a hangover-feeling from hell, and a hazy memory of our encounter.

I ran back towards the caravan park without another look back. 89 steps, 88 steps, 87…

And that is when I heard the sound of a police siren scream flick on and off a couple of times. As the sound of a car trailing behind me came closer, slowed my pace untilI coming to a halt, closing my eyes.

Please be female, please be female.

“M’am,” said a male voice from the direction of the car.

I turned slowly, catching my breath. Male.

“Good afternoon, Officer” I said tersely, eyeing him and ready to run.

Even in his car, I could see his demeanour change as his car sidled up beside me.

“Oh,” he said softly, his bored, abrasive expression softening into one of unrequited love.

I let out a breath that I’d been holding. The abandoned caravan park had been home for a few weeks now. I’d grown to like it. Even envisaged myself getting a few plant pots, making things a little more homely.

But who was I kidding?

I smiled and stepped towards the car, all sweetness and light. And as he smiled back and opened his mouth to say something, I reached my hand in slowly and touched his shoulder with a finger.

Just one finger. But that is all it took to send him into a stupor, the same of any other.

He jerked and momentarily came to his senses, his brain changing gears, back into police officer-mode. But only for a few seconds. By the time he’d reached the end of his sentence, he too had succumbed to the daze.

Thankful he’d taken his foot off the pedal at least, I watched him for one moment, checking no further harm would come to him. His car was still idle but aside that, he’d be ok. They all would. In time.

My attention snapped back to my situation. Time to leave. I would stop off at the caravan park and grab my stuff. The mountains the next state over seemed like a good place. Trees, no-one about.

My stomach growled again, with painful pangs of hunger. I had been so close to finally getting food. But I’d have to resort back to the safer way.

Stealing food from unoccupied homes while people were at work was always safer. The only living beings were typically a pet dog or cat that would look at me quizzically as I’d forage their well-stocked kitchens while their owners were away.

It had been three days now, though. I may not have been human, but even sirens need to eat. I had to eat something soon. But for now, and with my mouth pursed, and my resolve set, I turned into the caravan park.

Yes, time to leave. I’d have to wait to eat until tomorrow.

Help me. Help.

I live within a cacophony. It seizes my heart in an iron-like grip as it roars the roars of a thousand lions. My screams drown in the never-ending noise, and as I close my eyes, my hands over my ears, I suddenly realize...

I can stop this. I can switch the outside off. Turn off the phone notifications. Hey, here's a wild idea... turn off the phone.

Turn off YouTube, email, Instagram, Tiktok, Facebook, Pinterest, LinkedIn, television, radio...

Turn it all off.

And then, maybe I'll be able to hear my heart think.

Wariner pursed his lips as his eyes looked skyward toward the Crystal castle that sprawled above him.

He blinked. There it was, soaring into the sky - a scene he’d travelled so far and for so long to reach. For months, it had been a vague, dim destination in his mind’s eye. And now that he stood facing it - well, it almost seemed as though he were in a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. Not a good one, anyway. A nightmare, maybe...

He heard a distant flourish of trumpets and sighed. Better get on with it…

He began the steep climb up the sloping walkway towards the grand castle’s entrance - his final act of endurance. His thigh muscles screamed at him to stop where he was - to collapse and to never move again. But move he must. Move, he must.

He screwed his eyes up as he tried to focus on a little round figure in a brown robe that was hurrying down the slope towards him.

“Wariner?” squeaked a little bald monk, waddling towards him with gusto. “Wariner is that you?”

“Well met, Branok,” Wariner said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s been so long.”

“Oh indeed, my dear boy!” said the little monk, beaming from ear to ear. “Why you’ve grown into a man! I cannot believe how long it’s-”

The little monk’s words trailed off as he saw Wariner’s expression. “Oh,” he said quietly. “You come with... news?”

Wariner nodded and continued trudging up the slope without breaking his step. “I’m afraid so, Branok. Not of the good kind, either.”

The little monk scurried beside him, his little feet rushing to keep pace. “Dare I ask?” he said, in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“They’re dead,” Wariner said, unable to meet the little monk’s eyes. Instead, the wizard-warrior focused on his journey upwards - left, right, left. Steeper and steeper was the climb, and heavier and heavier felt his heart.

Branok’s eyes fell to the ground as he tried to keep pace with the already slowing Wariner.

“Who?” Branok asked, his eyes wide and glassy and a trace of sorrow lacing his usually bright and jovial voice. “Which of them died?”

Wariner closed his eyes momentarily and stopped. He gave Branok a sideways glance before looking away into the ravine below them. “All of them.”

It was as though his words rang through the ravine, as they echoed against its hard rock faces. All of them, dead.

All of them.

“All?” Branok said, his voice feint.

Wariner began his ascent again, trudging one foot after another.

“But how can it be?” Branok called after him as his hurried footsteps drew closer again. “They were outnumbered. It was a-“

“It was as good as a suicide mission, Branok!” Wariner said as he whirled around to face his old-time friend. “We were sent to our deaths! We didn’t stand a chance. It’s a miracle that I’m even here at all.”

Silence rang in their ears.

“The Masters will know what to do,” Branok said after a few moments.

Wariner chuckled bitterly. “Just like they did when they sent us all on this ‘quest’ of theirs? Yes, I’m sure they will.”

The sarcasm that laced Wariner’s tone wasn’t lost on Branok. But he knew all too well that his little friend would be loyal to the end. How could anyone question the Masters, after all?

“They’ll likely round up some more troops and send the poor souls out to their death too,” Wariner muttered. “But I tell you, Branock, they cannot be turned. And we cannot defeat them. They are - they seem to be -“

Branok watched his friend intently as his words trailed off. “Be what?”

“Immortal,” Wariner said with a sigh as they turned the final corner. “They seem to be immortal.”

Branok’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide and his steps slowing to a halt as Wariner continued his last few steps. He would finish this quest, even if it were only to declare his dead compatriots.

A rather stately looking old man stepped forward from a huge archway that formed the entryway of the castle. “Well met, Wariner Pendarves!” he said serenely, hands clasped and head bowing slightly. “You come with news?”

Wariner nodded solemnly. “Yes,” he said, the last two years suddenly coming over him in an onslaught of weariness. “Yes. I come with news.”