Julianne said goodnight to the same sunset each day. The orange beams laying across the horizon, dodged by the flock of birds dancing in the sky. And, she liked it. It was peaceful each night that she needed it to be, and it never let her down. For Julianne, moving to the lake had been hard. She missed the city where all of her friends lived, and this she did not know why. Unlike this sunset, her friends did let her down. Countless times. Living at the lake over the summer helped her to realize that it wasn’t solely them, but herself most of all. The version of herself in the city was not who she needed, yet remained who she wanted. This, she did not know why. When the sun says goodmorning, Julianne goes sailing. She loved to sail, mostly to follow the birds. To follow the wind, because maybe she’d find someplace. The place, for which she endured all this pain. All this confusion, and the tears she doesn’t even feel pool in her eyes anylonger. The tears that simply flow, like the creek under the city lights she used to lay under. Lost, confused, but accepted. Maybe that acceptance was fake, and maybe Julianne knew this; and maybe it was awful that she didn’t care either way. The rain was different here. It wasn’t skipping down the town square with her friends in matching boots and coat, latte in hand. It wasn’t returning home immediately after, wondering why she couldn’t escape this feeling of emptiness. Wondering why she had ever skipped in the first place. She didn’t mean it. That wasn’t how they made her feel. Then came the tears again, uncontrolled, unprevented. Instead, the rain was pitter patter on the single window in her room. It was wrapping up in a blanket on the porch, latte on the coffee table. This latte was better. Julianne would accept that one day. She wondered when. When would these days be ones she simply remembered, rather than endured. She wondered when the sun would say, “Goodmorning.” And she would be free. She would sail, and she would know where to go. She would know a place, and she would lead the birds this time. But, until then, she had the sun no matter what. To say “Goodnight.” And the sun never let her down.

A, The clock strikes 12, and what do you know. As I write, it’s July 23rd, again. Happy birthday to us. Just as you predicted, I lived on without you. I never thought I could, but I did. Maybe what drove me was your desperate want for me to do so. They took over. The quartids invaded Earth 67 years ago, and we work for them now. Days get rough, and nights are never quiet. They toss us like useless rags after a cleanse, and sometimes I find myself glad you’re not here. I know that if you were here, you wouldn’t be for long, because you would have tried to stop them. You would have stood out from the crowd, just as you always did. Without a care in the world, burning down cities with that fire behind your eyes. What I’d give to see you one more time. What I’ll do today, on our special day, will be no different than what I’ve always done. I’ll wake up, go to work, get pushed around, steal food from the local markets, then come home and go to sleep. I’ll do all those things while finding a way to refer them back to you. As I always do. I remember our last birthday together. On this day 100 years ago, I touched you for the last time. I heard your laugh for the last time, and I was warmed by your kindling love. For the last time. “I know you, Kenneth. You’ll live on. One day this day will be your day rather than ours, and I’ve accepted that, so you can too. You’re a liver. I’m a fighter. There’s a difference.” So, I sit here alone, lighting our cake. Lemon was always your favorite, but I hate lemon. So, as I eat my angel food slice, I have a lit lemon cupcake right beside me. Just like you were supposed to be. One last thing. You were wrong. I am not a liver. Well, you could say I was at the time. But, time without you has taken my status as a liver and beaten it to a status of survivor. There’s no living without you A. Happy Birthday to me.

                                            Kenneth.

“Jillian!” Maverick pleaded. “Jill!” Jillian heard him, but she didn’t stop walking. She didn’t even turn around. She was tired of his fiddling with her, and she needed him to know she wasn’t putting up with it anymore. He constantly used her, and she hated it. She hated him. The party was crowded. Jillian made her way through the many rooms, filled with smokers, couples, and drunk teenagers. The music was booming, and she swore she could feel the ground shaking from underneath her. She could also hear Maverick’s cries still, but not as loudly. Sighing, she continued to pace, looking for the exit. She would talk to him later. After what felt like years, she found the front door. “Well don’t you have a good shirt? Do you need a shirt? I have a shirt! Take my shirt!” A drunk boy around her age stopped her as he said this, pulling his shirt off and spilling his drink everywhere. “Jillian!” Crap. This boy had stopped her, and Maverick found her. Thanks drunk boy, she thought. “I’m not doing this with you Maverick.” She hissed, pushing the boy off of her. She continued out the door, and so did Maverick, right behind her. “Jill! Stop. You never walk out on me. What did I do? If you didn’t want to come to the party just say that! We can go home. Is that what you want?” He said aggressively. She stopped walking, and turned to him slowly. “What I want is for you to admit you’re only with me for show. I want you to stop with the questions that you clearly know the answer to. But, mostly, I want you to stop asking me what I want. Save it, because I know you don’t care at all, Mav.” Maverick watched as Jill stormed to her car and drove off. He didn’t dare say another word, because Jill was right. She was mainly good for his reputation, so he kept her around solely because that was the most important thing in his life. So, he let her go tonight. But, he’d need her back eventually, and she loved him enough to come willingly. He chuckled to himself, reassuring the chase wasn’t over. But, Maverick knew this wasn’t a chase. This was, for him, a game.

“Mother.” Deloris hadn’t been home since it happened. The castle wasn’t the castle she had grown up in, for it was now dusted in the corners and any feeling of homeliness was torn from it. She and Mother sat in the dark dining room, nibbling at raspberry pastries and tea. “Deloris.” Mother looked tired. Deloris watched as she motioned her maid from the corner, asking for more tea although her cup was nearly full. She was avoiding the talk, avoiding the reason why she brought Deloris home in the first place. She also knew that although she would get around to it eventually, she didn’t have to say anything. Deloris knew. “Where is he?” Deloris mumbled sternly, breaking the cold silence. Mother looked up at her, her lips trembling and her eyes pleading with hope. Deloris shivered at her mother’s condition. “Where. Is. He?” Deloris was close to tears. “Gone. He took it, and he’s been gone. Ever since that night.” Mother finally muttered. Then it hit her. Mother was tired because he took it. He took the dagger, and he left. “And where is,” Deloris was close to tears. She knew what was coming. “Where is Father?” Mother paused, her eyes darting to the floor. Deloris broke. “Dead.” It took her 5 minutes to call a carriage, prepare a bag, and then she was off. She knew exactly where she was going, and who she was going to. She was ready. “I knew you’d come back.” The sound of his voice sent a shiver up her neck. She had found him in the Forrest pavilion only minutes away from the castle. He always came here when it stormed. “Where is the Dagger, Odin.” She spoke coldly. He began to chuckle, still not turning around to face her. She grew angry. “I said. Where. Is. The. Dagger? My father is dead. That dagger has been a part of the royal family for centuries. You knew that, and you took it.” She couldn’t help the tears rolling down her face. “I didn’t take it.” He argued. “No, Odin. You took it because it wasn’t meant for you.” He froze at those words. She had hit a nerve, and she knew what she was doing. “That dagger drew the soulmates of my ancestors. I told you that. That dagger allows my family to ascend. Without the dagger, the universe kills them off. You took the dagger, and so you killed my Father. The man drawn to my mother, the former Princess and now Queen of Quetestia. You killed the Prince Consort of Quetestia. You’re angry because you weren’t my soulmate. The dagger didn’t draw you to me, and we weren’t meant to be. But most of all you’re angry because despite all of that, despite the fact that you aren’t my soulmate; I will always be yours.” Odin stood from his seat at these words, storming toward Deloris with a determination in his eyes. He stopped right before her, and not even a coin could fit between the distance of their faces. Without breaking their eye contact, he lifted his shirt, revealing cuts all over his stomach and back, even some still bleeding. Deloris froze. “I didn’t take your dagger, Deloris. You left, and it follows me. It hurts me. So, you’re a liar. You do love me, and you never stopped.” Deloris was without words. Before she could speak, he grabbed her face, pulling her in. When their kiss broke, she looked down at his stomach once more. There was not a cut in sight. “Your mother didn’t bring you back, Deloris. The dagger did. The dagger brought you to me, because you were wrong. I am your soulmate, whether you like it or not.”

His hair was auburn, reminding her of the leaves changing with the autumn season. Her favorite season. His freckles dotted his face like speckles of paint on a canvas representing rain drops, only his were drops of sun. His eyes of green glistened in the light as they stared into hers, reminding her of the prettiest grass on a summer day, but not even that could describe the beauty of their hue. His hand in hers, she could feel his thumb gliding across her fingers, and he gave her a little squeeze every now and then. “So that you won’t forget it’s there,” he would always tell her, and she loved it. She loved him. “You can’t hold my hand forever you know.” She argued playfully as they sat on the roof of her house, watching the sun set and the sky fade into the most beautiful mixture of purple and orange. “This pretty hand? I’ll never let go.” He chuckles, and she joins as she rests her blonde head on his shoulder. She never wanted him to let go either. “I don’t like the sun set.” He said, breaking the peaceful silence. The only sound they could hear for miles was the songs of the birds and chirps of the crickets. She looked up at him, a smile on her face, her eyebrow cocking. He continued. “The blue sky fades, therefor it doesn’t bring out your eyes. I don’t like it. As I do, everything in this world should contribute to your beauty. I pity the sky, and the sun for setting, and everyone either than me. Because there is nobody else in this world holding you right now.” It took a moment, but in no time a smile ran across his face. His eyes yet again met hers. He saw a fire behind her eyes of blue, a fire he knew was kindled by his love and that burned for him. He noticed her dotted freckles just as she noticed his. He was infatuated with the girl sitting in front of him. The girl whose beauty faltered the sunset. “I’m in love with you.” She replied finally, running her fingers through his hair as they lost the sunlight and welcomed the moon.

The two were separated. He laughed gleefully with the ones he foolishly considered friends; slowly but surely losing himself to the cruelty of their time. She watched him from a distance, reminiscing in the faint sound of his voice saying her name; and secretly longing to hear it once more. Even still. Even as everyone thought the world of him, even as everyone cherished his name and purpose like gold at the end of the rainbow; he still looked for her in the crowd. Even as she swore she was better off, that nothing he could ever do would mend the promises broken and love shattered; she always looked too, only to find his eyes glued to hers as well. Their gaze lasted only seconds (but for them a lifetime), each of them exchanging their feelings and grief without any words spoken or tears shed. The two were connected. The gaze being broken would hurt the most, because she would see as he returned to his life of popularity, and he would be too late to return his eyes only to see her leaving.

“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!” She heard that a lot, from mostly anyone that approached her. She carried a smile for everyone around her and spread laughter like a contagious disease. Her book in one hand, coffee in the other, she was confident. She was the happiest person in the world, after all. She goes from class to class, conversing and catching up with all of her friends. She had a lot of those, and they smiled with her; because how could you possibly not? She helped those that were in need of it, and when she asked you how you were doing, she genuinely cared. After a long day, she parts from her dearest school personality, and returns home. Her room is a mess. Bed is barely made, and her closet is piled with dirty clothes and blankets. She sets her book down, and kicks off her shoes. Her bed was the hardest part. She stares longingly at the covers, wishing she could curl up under them and pass out. “Just a few more hours. Then you can sleep.” She says to herself. “Keep going.” “If you’re not going to tell us what’s wrong, then go upstairs. And clean your room while you’re at it. You used to do so well.” Her parents would say these things to her, and she would never reply. She knew they didn’t understand, but neither did anyone else. The happiest person in the world was alone in the world. Hours pass. She lays on her unmade bed, writing and peering out the window. The night falls, and the happiest person in the world is eager for the first time that day. The moon was coming. She took most appreciation for the little gifts in life. The gifts that nobody ever cherished because they didn’t come in a vibrant wrapping paper, or a card that talks. She stares at the moon until she determines it’s phase. “You didn’t do anything today.” She says aloud to herself in the shower. The happiest person in the world would punish herself, and then the tears would flow like a river after a storm. The happiest person in the world was the most disciplining to herself. She was her own enemy. The morning comes, and she groans at the sounds of footsteps roaming the household hallways. The happiest person in the world was drained. She got out of bad at the last second possible, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She closed her eyes and sighed, a part of her thinking that if she waited long enough, she would open them, and the day would be over. After getting dressed, she grabs her book and slips on her shoes. Downstairs, the coffee pot is still full a bit, just enough for her cup. Her backpack is then thrown over her shoulder, and she’s ready. Or so it seems. “Have a good day.” Her mother says as she gets out of the car. The first forced smile of the day is always the hardest, but if she could do that, she could do anything. The happiest person in the world was hardworking. “Hey!” She had just walked in, and her friends had surrounded her with smiles and greetings. Just a few more hours, and she could go home. She held on to that and reminded herself of it consistently. “You did it yesterday, and you’ll do it tomorrow. So do it today.” She mumbles to herself. What people didn’t realize is, they in fact hadn’t just met the happiest person in the world. They had met just another person. Maybe even an actress. The happiest person in the world was not happy. Not at all.

You would want to believe that I found her all those years ago. I didn’t. Times were different now. I was different. She was gone, so how could I not be? I live in the town of Terrowin. 184 years it had been since I last saw her. Since I last heard her voice. It felt like just yesterday sometimes, and other times she felt so distant from my brain that it was all a dream. I longed to wake up. We used to live in a state called New York. She and I together in a little apartment complex, smack down in the middle of the city. We were happy. She promised me we would live forever, that not even the splitting of the Earth could pull me from her grasp. She lied. It was 5:04 a.m. when I woke up to her sitting up in the bed, gasping for air. “Lorelei?” I struggled to sit up, but I got there. She hadn’t looked my way. “Bad dream, Lor?” The thing about Lorelei was her imagination. She was labeled as the “crazy girl” in our hometown. I loved her endlessly, but the labels were true. Lor was always very passionate about make believe concepts, and when she told me about them, all I could do was smile in awe of her love for something that was just for her. Nobody else understood. I met her when we were only four years old. Crazy that 14 years felt like forever when I gazed in to her eyes. We had been together for a long time. Little four year old me saw her. Her curly auburn hair caught my short attention span, and that was a rare thing to do back then. “I’m Bo.” She squinted at me, and gave an almost scary grin from ear to ear. “I’m Lorelei. Lor is my nickname, though. The rest is too hard.” At this she looked at me, waiting to see what I would say. “Hey Lor. We can be friends now.”She grabbed my hand carelessly, smiling the whole time. Struggling to catch up, I let her guide me from the park into the nearby woods. We sat down by a huge oak tree, and she looked at me sincerely. The smile was gone. “Since we’re friends now, I should tell you that the Earth will split soon. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, but it will, and we will be here for it.” She grabbed my hand. “Well, I’ll find you. We will be okay!” My four year old heart. So good, but so off. She smiled, and I never forgot those words. “It’s happening. I’m not ready. I can’t go. Bo!” She screamed, getting up out of the bed. Her slippers barely on her feet, her robe being positioned over her nightgown as she ran out the door. “Lorelei!” I screeched. I had been running for hours. She was always faster than me. I was temporarily comforted by the first time I ever saw her run so carelessly. The day I met her. That’s when it hit me. The tree. “I knew you’d be here.” I said, startling her as she turned to see me, limping toward her in the pouring rain. “Bo, you need to go hide. Now! It’s happening.” “Come with me, Lor. Let’s go home.” She scoffed. “Fourteen years ago I told you this would happen. Have you forgotten? I’m telling you to go hide. So go.” “Stop! Lorelei, stop with all of this nonsense! Come home! I’ve put up with these fantasies because I love you, but you’re crazy Lor. Come home!” I hissed, only realizing what I had said before it was too late. Her eyebrows scrunched, and she shook her head. “You were the only person that had never called me that.” I went to say more, but the ground under me began to crack, shaking me to the ground. I hopelessly backed up on my feet. “You’ve broken me. Us. You never loved me. And now, you will never find me. You can live with those broken promises for the rest of your sorry life.” She gushed. I got one last look at her face before I was swept under the ground, rolling and tumbling for minutes until I landed safely on a deserted underground. Terrowin. The look of her face as I fell was hopelessly depressing. She was lost. But, I would find her. Count on that.

The door was wide open when I pulled up the driveway. She hadn’t come back for months. I wondered why now? Prissy and I were together for a long time. A lot can happen in 5 years, and a partner for that long would surely see it all. We broke up on and off, but for 5 years, I was undoubtedly hers. Prissy and Me. That wasn’t a question. Priscilla was a gun, and I was the provider of the bullets. She was a burnt out wood pile, and I was the match to kindle her fury. Her and I were fire on fire, growing and growing with every moment spent. Only, this fire didn’t burn out without the destruction of a home on the way. Of our home. We weren’t meant to love. There were plenty of good times. Prissy and I went to Latte Shoppe, the local coffee shop, every Sunday morning. She wore a summer dress, with the same white cardigan and white beach hat every time. Maybe she was back to get those. I hadn’t noticed how long I had been pondering our unlovable love. I returned back to reality by the beeping of my car telling me I needed to put my seatbelt on. I turned it off. The walk up to my house from my car felt years and years long. I thought about it all. What was I going to say? There wasn’t anything to say with the way we left things. There was also no more time to think as I approached the steps. Here goes everything. The sound of sobbing and shredding paperback echoed from the hall, and I was instantly reminded of what it felt like when the good times faded. When we got home, our coffee downed, her hat and cardigan off. Hung up to use the next Sunday. “Quit! You didn’t!” She sighed between deep breaths , sobs sneaking in occasionally. Her face was brought to a sudden calm as she realized I was standing in my bedroom doorframe; and I had been watching her for moments. Her ocean blue eyes met mine, and she immediately hid her face in her hands. It was almost as if she assumed that if she couldn’t see me, I couldn’t see her. “I have a few questions.” I broke the silence after minutes of her sobs and pants slithering up my neck into my ears. “I’m sure. A lot was left unanswered.” She finally stood to her feet, wiping her eyes and rubbing her temples. “I mean, yes. But I was referring to the fact that you broke into my home, and—“ “Your home?” Her face didn’t break, but I could see her eyes gloom and her mouth quiver. “Priscilla, this became my home a long time ago.”
She scoffed, and I was finally able to look down at what had been ripped. My drawing. I broke this time. Prissy had drawn me two cats knitting a yarn ball in to a heart when we were in 4th grade. I was the weirdo, she was the prissy popular princess. Hence the nickname. Everyone made fun of her for it, but her confidence was persistent. I went straight home and framed it. The same frame. And she ripped it. “How— how could you do this?” I yelled falling to the floor. The paper had been ripped down the middle. Straight down the yarn heart. “It’s a metaphor.” She mumbled. I looked into her eyes. “I did that to the heart on the paper. You did that to the heart in my chest.” I stood, about to say more. She stormed through my left shoulder, grabbed her purse, and slammed the door behind her. That door opened just as fast as it shut. She stormed right back in, her purse dropping carelessly. She grabbed my arm and pulled me in. I could feel the anger leaving her body in her kiss. When she pulled away, I bent to get the paper. Reaching in her purse, I pulled out her scotch tape. She always had everything handy. I’ve always found that really cute. I carefully taped the paper back down the middle, reviving the heart of yarn. “I fixed this heart, and I’ll fix yours. I love you, Prissy.” She took the paper from me, embracing me once more. “I love you, Red. It hurts, but I do.” We held each other for hours and hours more. Just me and Prissy. Fire on fire.

“You better run!” Maven yelled as she chased Amy through the trees. Tag was a game they had played since they were little. “Wait up!” Quilt screamed, catching up to both of them as they sped. Quilt and Amy had been dating for months now, and they always let Maven tag along with them when she wanted. “You got me, you got me!” Amy stopped out of breathe, accepting her defeat. Maven chuckled as she came to a halt, smacking Amy’s arm. “What’s wrong?” Quilt questioned Amy. He had slowed down a long while ago, and was still a ways behind them. Amy gave both of them a rude glare, and started to run again. “But I tagged you!” Maven yelled, sprinting towards Amy. Quilt grunted in frustration. He didn’t want to run. He liked the outdoors, and the game of tag wasn’t exactly the idea of enjoying it. He would never say anything to Amy, but Maven wasn’t his favorite way to spend the afternoon with his girlfriend. Amy was his whole world, and he thought of this as he continued to walk, smiling at the ground. “Quilt!” Maven grinned, skipping back toward him. Amy followed, jealously glaring at Quilt. “Hey Maven. Sorry, just enjoying the scene.” He smiled politely and passed her, pacing towards Amy. “Maven, I’m done. I know you love him.” Amy countered in the silence. “What?” Maven looked stunned at her friend’s words, but not denying. There was a long silence. “You love him. Why him? What did I have to do?” Amy paused, her jaw falling. The others stared in confusion. “What?” Quilt mumbled. Amy stood, tears pooling in her eyes. “Quilt, I was going to tell you tonight. I was.” She stepped toward him, but he backed away. “Ames? You like me?” Maven asked gently. Unable to speak, Amy nodded. Maven looked at Quilt, who was unable to take his eyes off Amy. “What she said is true, Quilt. I do love you. I was also going to tell you that tonight.” Maven said. He looked back and forth at both of them, forcing himself to focus on the sound of the wind and the trees. His vision became blurry. Amy struggled to catch her breath from the sound of her sobs. Maven stared blankly in to the woods. There they were. All of them wanting, none of them wanted.