NINE YEARS AGO。。。

**_HOLLAND

_**School was a living hell. The second hell I had other than my home. It was were people stared and judged, and I already had enough of that from my mother.

I was hiding in the library that day, eating my lunch and finishing up my homework, when he stopped in front of me. I looked up, eyes tired, and stared back at his dark gaze.

His hair, the color of blood, was shaggy and disoriented, curly at some ends, but straight at others. His glasses were perched on his nose, square and rigid. The glass inside the frames was clean; the light from the ceiling reflected off of the glass, causing his eyes to stay hidden behind the white sheen.

We stared at each other for a while, or, he stared at me. Then he licked his lips—I noticed that his nostrils flared as if he was smelling me—and said, “You look like an angel.”

I smiled and a warm feeling settled into my chest that day. An unfamiliar one at that. It excited me.

I didn’t know it then, but, I was in love.

Me, an angel living in hell.

PRESENT。。。

**_THOMAS

_**How is Jack going to get us out of this one?

How indeed.

At the moment, Holland and Treasure are preparing sandwiches with the materials we gathered from the store. Adon is laying down and muttering to himself, swaddled by a blanket that Holland folded him in.

On the other side of the van, Penny and Aubrey sit. Penny is rocking herself softly, eyes wide and in even worse shape than Adon. Aubrey is clutching her wounded leg close to her chest. Treasure had removed the bullets earlier this morning, but it still looked like she was in pain.

Jack, not having moved from the drivers seat although the van was parked, was stil. Rock still.

I took a deep breath and smelled them all:

Sugar, sweet, soft, and cavity inducing; Adon.

Red; Treasure.

A stench so pungent I cough to clear my throat if it; Penny.

The sharp, metallic smell of blood; Jack.

More feeling than smell, and it confuses me the same as it did when I first noticed it. An itch that creeps on the bridge of my nose; Aubrey.

And then the one I know best, the one of my love. A buttery scent, floating and wafting around the van lazily; Holland.

All different smells, but tinged with the same edge that I feel right now.

Fear.

We, the insane, are fearful of what comes next.

Under different circumstances, I would have laughed. But I am hungry, so painfully hungry, and if Holland weren’t in this van right now….

“Alright everyone!” Jack stands and moves into the spacey back of the travel van with the rest of us. Some of his confidence seems to have settled back; I smell it on him, a powdery smell of gun powder mixed with his usual scent. “I have a plan.”

Aubrey looks up, eyes narrowed. “And who said that we would follow your plan. Hell! I don’t even know you—you kidnapped me!”

Jack regards her with a lift of his nose. “Then go, run back to the police and see what they do with you. I’m sure they’ll protect you, a lady who was seen by two private investigators murdering an innocent woman outside of a public apartment complex. Go ahead, leave, no one will stop you.”

Treasure raises her hand, moving to Aubrey and wrapping the woman in her arms. “I will stop you.”

And that’s that. Aubrey is silent, leaning against Treasure with a goopy smile on her face and waves of pleasure wafting off of her, and Jack continues his speech.

“Penny,” he points to her rocking form, “has two very rich parents. These parents, who so kindly left her in that asylum for us to get—“

“They kidnapped you too?” Aubrey asks. Penny nods, then resumes rocking.

Jack continues as though none of that happened, but I see him working his jaw. He is aggravated—this situation is getting to him too, and he doesn’t want us to see it. “—have an old warehouse not too far from here. There we can get supplies, have shelter, and better yet, stay undetected.”

Adon, cheek squished against the floor and eyes drooping, squirms in his blanket. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Jack sighs, but goes to Adon and starts unwrapping him like an unwanted present. “We’ll head out tomorrow. For now, everyone rest and eat up. Treasure, you don’t mind driving tomorrow if I give you a map, do you?”

Treasure seems momentarily surprised at his question. Everyone does, except Aubrey and Penny who haven’t known him that long, and Adon who’s wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck after the blanket frees him.

Jack asked a question.

The smell of fear has never been more strong around us.

“No, no I do not,” she finally answers.

“Then the plan is finished and complete to follow,” he holds Adon up and opens the van door to the woods, “Meeting adjourned.”

HOLLAND

It’s our anniversary today. The anniversary of angel and the savior.

But he hasn’t called me an angel once today.

Obviously, this is a stressful time for all of us, but I really thought he’d remember.

Adon is sleeping on Jack tonight, the women back into their corner of the van. Thomas and I are side by side, my head on his shoulder, and his hand playing with the lobe of my ear.

It’s quiet. It’s dark. He can kiss me if he wants to.

He hasn’t yet.

“Thomas,” I mumble, leaning into his touch, “You must be hungry by now.”

He doesn’t speak, but his fingers trail down to my neck and stroke the skin there. There’s a moment of this, and my eyes close in peace. Then he says, “I am.”

“Would you like to go hunting?” Then, maybe then, he will remember our anniversary.

But he taps my neck in disagreement. “Doing so would get the police on our tracks. I’m sure their looking for every new possible cannibalism case they find on their desks.”

Oh, I had forgotten about that.

“Well, Tommy, don’t you have something to say to me today?”

“Like what?”

“I can’t tell you that. You should—you should know what I’m talking about.” My voice cracks.

His fingers still. “Holland, don’t play with me.”

I open my eyes and frown at him, my head lifting from his shoulder in hurt. “No! You don’t play with me, Thomas. How—how the hell do you not remember? We do this every year!”

“Well, if we do it every year, I’m sure I would remember.”

I stop, my breath rushing out of me like the raging waters of a waterfall. “Okay then.” I stand, brushing off my legs the moving to the van door. “Have a nice night, Thomas. Let’s see if you can spend the rest of it remembering what you should’ve known.”

He stares at me, his dark gaze hungry and restless, as I leave the van.

I wish it’d been hurt in his gaze more than anything else.

Tradition - writing sonnets to each other about how their love is / should be.

Note - This poem is in the voice of a character from a story of mine. She has just been told she is arranged to marry a prince of another kingdom (blah, blah, blahhhh) and then proceeded to get forced to write a poem for him. Here it is!

——

I don’t know you very well, future king,

but we are meant to be wed under the stars.

Our love, while yet to be, will be quite a thing,

a marvel, indeed, how this love heals scars.

So I’ve heard, my dear Prince Cinder,

our love, soon-to-be, could make nations cry.

Our love will be a fire, hard to hinder.

It will break all barriers and ties.

Yet, I don’t know my beloved Prince well,

not enough for it to matter, though.

Your name only brings Royal warning bells,

the two syllables only made for crows.

Our love, Prince Cinder, will only burn forever;

it will make my kingdom fall more than ever.

——

More on the story of this later! Look out for - **GLASSBLADE DUET **

The snow fell in thick, lazy flakes, blanketing Evergreen Creek in a pristine white that should have felt magical, but instead felt suffocating. Amelia trudged through the drifts, her boots crunching on the frozen ground, the sound echoing hollowly in the unusually quiet streets. Garlands hung limply on lampposts, their festive cheer dulled by the heavy gray sky. Even the carolers gathered around the town square seemed to lack their usual exuberance, their voices thin and reedy in the biting wind. This Christmas, the charm of Evergreen Creek, usually so potent, seemed to have deserted her. The festive decorations that once sparked joy now only served as a painful reminder of her isolation. Her family, the vibrant heart of her Christmases, had relocated to the bustling city, leaving Amelia alone in the cozy cottage that suddenly felt far too big. She clutched her shopping list, the paper crinkling in her gloved hand. It was Christmas Eve, and she should have been filled with excitement, but a dull ache of loneliness settled in her chest. The familiar traditions – the chaotic ornament decorating, the shared laughter over burnt cookies, the carols sung slightly off-key around the crackling fireplace – felt empty and meaningless without her loved ones. Lost in her melancholic thoughts, she rounded a corner and collided with a solid wall of warmth. A startled gasp escaped her lips as she stumbled backward, her list slipping from her numb fingers and disappearing into a snowdrift. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry!" a deep voice boomed, laced with concern. Amelia looked up, her gaze meeting a pair of the kindest blue eyes she had ever seen. They crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a dusting of snowflakes clinging to his thick, dark lashes. He knelt down, his strong hands brushing aside the snow with surprising gentleness, and retrieved her list. "No harm done," she mumbled, her cheeks flushing with warmth that had nothing to do with the cold. "I wasn't paying attention." "Lost in the Christmas spirit, perhaps?" he chuckled, his breath forming a white cloud in the frosty air. He straightened up, handing her the list. "Daniel," he introduced himself, his smile widening. "Amelia," she replied, her heart doing a curious little flutter in her chest. As they chatted, the snow continued to fall around them, softening the sharp edges of the world. Daniel, she learned, was a woodcarver who had recently moved his workshop to Evergreen Creek, seeking a respite from the clamor of city life. He was drawn to the town's old-fashioned charm, its Christmas spirit a stark contrast to the commercialized frenzy he had left behind. His voice, rich and resonant, painted vivid pictures of his childhood Christmases spent in a small cabin nestled deep in the woods, surrounded by the scent of pine and the crackling warmth of a wood-burning stove. Amelia found herself captivated, not just by his words, but by the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke about his craft, the way his hands gestured with an almost lyrical grace. He listened intently as she spoke, his gaze never wavering, making her feel seen and heard in a way she hadn't experienced in a long time. A comfortable warmth, not entirely from the shared body heat in the close proximity, bloomed within Amelia, thawing the loneliness that had been gripping her. For the first time that day, a genuine smile touched her lips. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bleak after all. The next morning, Christmas Eve, Amelia awoke to a world transformed. The snow had stopped, and the sun shone brightly, casting a glittering sheen on the snow-covered landscape. A sense of anticipation bubbled within her, a feeling she hadn't experienced since she was a child. She couldn't shake the memory of Daniel's kind eyes and the warmth in his voice, and an inexplicable pull drew her towards his workshop. Tucked away on a quiet lane, the workshop was a small, snow-dusted building with a plume of smoke curling from its chimney. The scent of pine shavings and the rhythmic tapping of his carving tools beckoned her closer. Hesitantly, she pushed open the door, a bell above it jingling merrily. The interior was cozy and inviting, with wood shavings littering the floor and tools neatly arranged on shelves. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Daniel was hunched over his workbench, his brow furrowed in concentration as he carved a delicate wooden ornament. He looked up as the bell announced her arrival, his face breaking into a wide smile. "Amelia! What a pleasant surprise." "I hope I'm not interrupting," she said, stepping inside, her gaze drawn to the intricate ornament in his hand. It was a five-pointed star, its surface smooth and polished, with delicate details etched into the wood. "Not at all," he assured her, setting the ornament down. "I was just trying to capture the essence of the Christmas star, the symbol of hope and guidance." "It's beautiful," she breathed, mesmerized by the craftsmanship. She reached out, her fingers tracing the delicate curves of the star. It was smooth and cool to the touch, the grain of the wood adding a subtle texture. "It's missing something though," Daniel mused, tilting his head, his gaze fixed on the ornament. "It needs a spark." Amelia's eyes fell on a small, shimmering crystal she had found on a hike, tucked away in a pocket of her coat. It had caught her eye with its unusual brilliance, the way it seemed to hold the light captive within its facets. "How about this?" she suggested, pulling it out and placing it in the center of the star. Daniel's eyes lit up. "Perfect!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder. He carefully secured the crystal with a tiny peg, and the star seemed to come alive, radiating a warm, inner glow. That evening, as the church bells chimed, announcing the start of the Christmas Eve service, Daniel presented Amelia with the finished ornament. They stood outside the church, the snow crunching beneath their feet, the sound of carols spilling out from the open doors. "It's a symbol of our unexpected meeting," he said, his voice husky with emotion, "of finding light in the midst of loneliness." Amelia's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Thank you, Daniel. It's the most beautiful gift I've ever received." She looked at the star, the crystal catching the light of the streetlamps and casting dancing reflections on the snow. It was more than just an ornament; it was a symbol of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, light could be found in the most unexpected places. As the years passed, their bond deepened, nurtured by shared laughter, quiet evenings by the fire, and long walks through the snow-covered woods. Their friendship blossomed into love, a slow and steady burn that warmed them from the inside out. Every Christmas Eve, they would return to Daniel's workshop and create a new star ornament together, each one unique, each one symbolizing a special memory of their growing love. There was the year they carved a star with delicate snowflakes etched into the wood, commemorating the blizzard that had snowed them in at his cabin, forcing them to spend a cozy week together, their laughter echoing through the silent woods. Another year, they created a star adorned with tiny pine cones, a reminder of the day they got lost in the forest, only to stumble upon a hidden waterfall, its icy beauty taking their breath away. Their tradition expanded to include their children, and then their grandchildren. The once quiet workshop became a haven of joyful chaos, filled with the sounds of excited chatter, the scent of freshly cut wood mingling with the aroma of hot chocolate, and the sight of little hands eagerly helping to carve and decorate their own stars. The Christmas Star Ornament became a cherished symbol of their family, a reminder of the enduring power of love, hope, and the magic of Christmas. Decades later, an elderly Amelia sat by the fireplace, the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls, their warmth a comforting presence. The Christmas tree shimmered with dozens of star ornaments, each telling a story, each a testament to a love story that began on a snowy Christmas Eve. She gently touched the very first star, the crystal still shining bright, a single tear tracing a path down her wrinkled cheek. Daniel was gone now, but his love, like the Christmas star, continued to guide her, reminding her that even in the darkest of nights, there is always light to be found.

Lock up my feelings Throw them in a pit Hide them from everyone Just somehow get rid of it

Nobody wants them here Nobody will want to hear Make them go away Then maybe they’ll stay near

I finished typing on my computer composing an email to my boss asking if there was anything I might need to catch up on while I was off for the weekend when I checked the date. It was 4th of July weekend. “Honey! Did you realize it’s 4th of July this weekend?” I called to Amanda who was in her room down the hall. Quickly she stumbled into my room bursting through the door. “Shit, no I didn’t. We gotta get out of the city then.” Amanda replied leaning against my doorframe whilst putting her outgrown bleached hair up out of her face. “Yeah I know. Let’s just go to my parent’s cabin I know they won’t be there.” I replied, turning around in my swivel chair to face Amanda now. Her facial expression dropped. The cherry red concealed in her cheeks plummeted into a ghostly pink now. “I know you’re fucking lying Lily.” Amanda responded to me. “What? Come on it’s only an hour away. Plus would you rather deal with the terrorizing sporadic blasts throughout the night?” I responded back. Amanda looked at me with about a thousand thoughts hidden behind her pupils. I watched her lips purse to speak, and go back down a few times before saying after what felt like hours. “I guess that wouldn’t be too bad.” Amanda responded her Boston accent fading away into the sincerity of her statement. Before I knew it the two of us were in her car, driving past the “Farewell New York” sign and on the highway. “So how much longer?” I asked Amanda to be annoying. “Lily, it’s your parents cabin, shouldn’t you know this route like the back of your hand?” Amanda responded, cracking her gum in her mouth after finishing her sentence. Her window was open and her hair blew so elegantly in her face. I stare at Amanda’s nose, the slopes and peaks of it in her side profile as she drove. She catches me staring, I know how much she randomly hates her side profile and she looks at me and smacks my glasses off my face. Playfully now hitting each other as her knees cruise down the highway. Then suddenly something crashes in front of us. “What the fuck!” Amanda screams. Swerving off the road the car falls off the shoulder of the highway into a ditch, instantly I heard/felt one of the tires puncture. “Shit shit shit” I said. Opening the door and getting out. “Are you okay?” I asked Amanda quickly. “Yeah I’m good Lily, are you?” Amanda asked. “I’m cool, what the hell was that?” I asked. “Seemed to be a deer or some sort, per usual, it went away unscathed, will probably trollop home to it’s family not even telling them how they almost killed two women.” Amanda responded. “You and your vendetta against deer.” I said, staring at the destruction. “From birth till death I don’t care.” Amanda responded. The headlight was a bit cracked now and the front right tire was definitely shit. I knew there was no spare anymore so we were stranded a bit. “I’ll call a tow.” I said. I quickly realized my phone was on the actual brink of death but I reached a towing service. “We unfortunately are closed due to the holiday, please try another local company for your towing needs this weekend.” “Shit, they’re closed for the weekend.” I said. Amanda now pacing around the wreck responded, “Just call literally any other one.” “Well I would but, my phone just died.” I said holding up my phone as the white led screen faded away. “Well we’ll just use my phone.” Amanda said. She immediately patted her light wash denim short pockets, front and back. Opened the front door searched the driver and passenger side. Now frantically looking in the car I began searching around outside. Retracing our theoretical steps in the car I found her phone. “Hey I think I found it.” I said with an air of unease. I may have found it but there wasn’t much to find. It was shattered and wasn’t turning on. “Well you know my password, just call somewhere.” Amanda said, wiping her forehead and walking towards me. “Hon it’s broken, won’t turn on. We seem to be a bit stranded.” I said. Once again I saw Amanda’s joy leave her face. “I knew we shouldn’t come out to your parents cabin!” Amanda said. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Maybe you’re right. But surprisingly I think I have an idea of where we are. If I’m right there should be an exit up maybe a mile with a quaint little hotel. We could just stay there and figure this all out tomorrow.” I said, pulling Amanda close and going on my tip toes to kiss her head. Traversing on the side of the road on a Friday night 4th of July weekend in the outskirts of New York we found it. Creeping into view was a quaint hotel. Not a chain like you may expect but one of those small 1 story hotels. Where the doors to each room you can walk up to, no hallways. Inside our room was a stain on the carpet and two small beds we pushed together to be a large one. It was quaint and cheap, with a delicious complimentary breakfast. “We should go up to your parents cabin more often.” Amanda said holding me in her arms in the bed.

Miriam was perched, lying in wait behind the blinds by the big chair when she heard the door open. She held her breath tightly inward. This had to be perfect.

The bedroom door now swung wide and she heard her husband toss his work bag aside and then fight to get his shoes off.

Then she pounced! Arms raised, wailing like a nightmare. Naturally he fell off the bed. She laughed.

“Holy shit, Miri. What was that!?”

“Payback!” She managed through laughter.

“For what?!” He collected himself onto the bed.

“Don’t give me that, you know; for all the times you pulled the shower curtain and did your Psycho gag. So funny-neh how’s it feel?”

He paused then smirked.

“Oh now it’s on. I’ma get you back…”

She spent time mulling it over, comparing it with every other instance that readily came to mind but it seemed outright to be the winner; that has been the best sex she’d ever had.

Ellen had been more nervous than almost any other time, which had surely contributed to the- shall we say- payoff. She had not expected it to work out at all with Grace, let alone that well on the second date.

She wiped swept from her forehead. Grace was now standing in front of the body length mirror on the back of the door. She looked to be admiring herself.

“You alright?” She asked, eyes locking through the glass.

Ellen, a bit swimmy in the head, blushed immediately but nodded. “Very…thank you.” The additional thanks just sort of fell from her mouth. She regretted the way it felt.

Grace simply smirked and came back to bed. “Welcome,” she planted a kiss on the back of her hand. “I don’t know about you but doing… that for as long as we did makes me hungry.”

Ellen’s blush was renewed. She wasn’t positive if it were a double entendres or an earnest statement so she only nodded. Grace smiled and kissed her for real.

“Great. Why don’t we slip into something a little less nothing and head across the street. I know an Asian fusion place that’s very okay…”

Ellen had never been with anyone like Grace.

And she loved it.

“Okay.”

Sue and Jay did not have the best luck. Their trip up north had been first beaten back by crowds and traffic and then had rained out, leaving them to drive around, sightseeing through windshield wipers.

As expected, this led to an argument or two. Tension leads to more tension, doubly so in confined spaces.

But as the rain abated some and they pulled into a local five-and-dime to get gas and snacks for the drive home, Sue spotted the adjoining parking lot and the signage above it.

“Hey hon?” She called out over the trickling of rainfall.

He looked up from the gas pump with little verve. Her pointed finger led him to the sign. It read “Divine’s.”

“So what?” He asked a bit more terse than he’d intended. She raised an annoyed eyebrow his way before she responded.

“I’m gonna go see what it is. Park the car. Please…” with that, she went.

He wanted to protest, to at least question why should would if they were leaving but he had little time and even less excuse. He wasn’t trying to fight.

He filled up, followed and parked, waiting for her to come out for a while before going in after her. When he did, he saw just how nice the place was.

Wall sconces held real candles, making the light low and warm. A pair of twin skylights, massive in their width, opened the main dining room up to a more natural look. The wall decor was abstract but not obnoxious.

A hostess asked, “are you with her?” And pointed to Sue, calmly sat at a corner booth.

He hesitated, then smiled.

They would make it a habit to come to Divines once a summer season at least. Seeing as it saved their trip, it was the least they could do, really.

Gina’s boot knocked a rock loose and, for some reason, she followed her intrusive instinct to wave at it as it fell.

Greg pushed through the brush at her back, breath heaving.

“You didn’t have to wait for me…” he assured her.

She assured him that she hadn’t. They had simply reached the point of elevation where you could see the world. At least that’s what her dad had said when she was little.

He saw from her vantage and pulled her close for a hug.

“Same…” he wheezed, she looked. “…time…next…year?” He smiled through his red cheeks. She returned it.

“So do I hit play now?” Martha asked, the remote suddenly foreign in her hand, as if she were holding some dead-eyed cod.

Tim chuckled with warmth, already ascending the ladder by the tree. “Yes, now, a minute ago, in an hour-whatever!” He shook his head softly. “As long as it’s on while we decorate, it counts.”

She pushed play and set the device down. “Counts? Didn’t realize there was a referee involved.”

“And a test. Better bone up on your studies.”

She eyed him down with scrutiny to make sure that wasn’t a double entendres. He looked innocent enough, head near the ceiling, hands fumbling not to drop porcelain gnome ornaments.

They went to work decorating their massive (for their apartment) twelve-foot tree, cheered on by the television and Tim’s favorite Christmas movie.

“So, how did this start?” She asked, handing him garland.

“It all began with this guy named Jesus…”

She smacked him with another bit of garland. She laughed at the face he made.

“I don’t know,” he said, “it’s just something my mom got us doing. Chicken before egg.”

“Hm?”

“This wasn’t my favorite Christmas movie before that.” He gestured toward the screen.

She turned to look, considering, but lost her grip on a ceramic R2-D2. It shattered on the fake hardwoods.

“Oh— I’m sorry.” Was all she could say. She knew he’d painted that one.

He knelt down, looking morose for only a moment before— smash!

There too went C-3P0. Her eyes were saucers.

“What are you—?!”

“Don’t want those two to be apart, do you?”

She smiled.

“Besides, now we have another tradition.” She questioned this with her eyes. “Always kinda hated those. Too niche. Every year we’ll smash our least favorite ornaments. It’ll encourage us to get new ones.” He laughed.

She hugged him and said that she loved him. He said it right back then they finished decorating by the sound of Red Rider BB Guns.