Short story: Write about the first time you saw your crush

I am at my desk, reading a review of this new book I already have plans on buying. My manager walks by with a man and a woman, I click down the tab and begin to click my mouse. Next to me my colleague, Benji, does the same except he has the football results up. I glance at him and we both smirk, then put on our professional faces. My manager walks by and my mouse hovers down to my tab again, I’m wondering if I can click and collect it. The trio walk back to my desk.

“O yeah Amy can do that for you, she is our tech girl,” my manager says smiling at the two people she is talking to. “This is Dorian and Lysa.”

I want to roll my eyes, but such actions could get me fired and I have plans to spend money, so I smile genially. The guy, Dorian, is handsome, looks like Tom Hardy my analytical mind points out, the woman, Lysa, standing beside him looks like Yara Shahidi.

I look back down, my finger inching to go back to my page, as I spy Benji who has shrank the footie results to a micro-size, so he can keep reading them.

I get an email from Benji. [You may be the tech genius but I’m the real clever one muwaha]

I burst out laughing then try and style it out as a cough, my manager who has been going on about my skills looks at me in concern as does her companions.

I email Benji a picture of a middle finger. Dorian who has just shifted, glances at my screen sees this and smiles, I am utterly mortified and look at my manager before meeting his gaze, he shakes his head smiling.

Something passes across his features as he stares at me and I am sure I haven’t drawn breath for a solid minute because my mind starts to haze over as I absolutely stare at him. My mind must have short-circuited because I can’t look away and I feel a strange energy build between us.

His companion, Lysa makes a comment and he looks away and so do I. That my face hasn’t caught on fire at how warm it is must be some kind of miracle. I look back at my monitor, my emotions in revolt, I take in a shallow breath, my heart jack hammering in my chest.

I can feel his eyes on me again and I want to look up, but strangely I am afraid, angry at how one look has done so much to me, but clearly some illogical part of my mind disobeys and I lock eyes with him again; electricity erupts between us once more as though by looking away we broke the circuit and our eyes need only meet again before the circuit was complete again.

A part of my brain notes that Lysa looks at him then at me but again I can’t look away for several long moments before sanity returns to me again and I look away.

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Free writing: Breaking up with him 

 “I think we should break-up, I don’t think this is working. I just…” I trail off as I say the words out loud, anyway I say it sounds harsh, cold and mean. Words that are used to describe me. I don’t want to be that person, but I refuse to stay in a relationship that after just two months makes me this unhappy I have to, no I need to end things.

Not just for me, for him, he is falling, I can feel it, it’s been hinted at and before he actually falls I need to stop him. He can’t fall not for me, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I allowed him to fall then broke up with him, even when I think of the idea of allowing him to love me, I hate myself a little, I can’t believe I’ve become this person, I roll my eyes at my own arrogance, but then it is true. He feels more than I do, he always did and that was why this would never work. When I felt more he was blasé, now he feels more I am indifferent. We are not on the same page, in the same book, we may even be in different library.

I jump as he picks up the phone, I’m scared because I don’t want to lose him but I can’t do this, I won’t, it’s cruel to pretend.

“I…” I begin, I hear him sigh and my heart which was never really invested wakes up from icey chamber to glance at me and shake it’s head, told you so, it says to my head, practical and logical, thought to cure itself with being practical but love is complex and despite this guy being good on paper, my heart doesn’t care.

The Saviour series: The Star

 

First visualistion of Aurelia aka The Star, new superhero from my up coming novel: The Saviour series: The Star.

Many thanks to illustrator extraordinaire: @cknightcomics

 

Short Story: What happened to all the love?

What happens when the person that you love, does not die, leave but is simply lost. What happens with the love that you shared? Where does it go? Does love find news homes in new souls, or does the love inside you change alter, mutate become something other? Does it disappear slowly over time, leaking from your pores like water, before the well finally runs dry? Or does it shift from one person to the other, a new love taking the place of where the old love was, replacing the stored memories with new ones? I can’t justify loving someone that is lost, nor can I justify not loving someone that is here, so where is it, all that love that was shared?

I can say that I love him still; his departure did not teach my heart to forget. I can say that I know what it means to love. I would say I felt regret about being heartbroken now that the object of my affection is gone but I don’t, my heart is delusional in its patience as if he will return, breathing new life into this love affair I have paused since his departure. My mind understands, it does not accept but it understands. But my heart, hopeless and illogical, stubborn in its inability to see reason is patiently waiting, a timer not set, no end date required. But time will not wait for me, and though my heart is steadfast my head knows the truth.

Though the truth is slowly fracturing my heart, I will not bring myself to remember the past with regret. I have been in love and have been loved, wholly unconditionally and without restraint. I have loved and been loved deeply without abandon, cared for so sweetly that my soul has been imprinted upon. This phenomenon is rare. I know what I had was real. Even if I was only able to taste heaven for a moment, I am a believer for life, I have been converted. Even though only I know, even though I have no discernable evidence, I believe. I have lived in that feeling for an infinite moment.

Is it enough to believe in love, even if you are no longer in it? You have seen Heaven, but now you are on earth once more, so is it enough? Is it enough to know that it exists even if you can’t have it ever again? What is the point of love if when you scour the world forever you may only be a silent witness. Or is love, akin to a treasure map, a wondrous prize we hope to find one day, never really knowing what we will do when we reach the X on the map, is love about the possibility, about the hope of it.

When I was in love, I was afraid and content. The emotions warring within me. Part of me was afraid of how much I had given of myself to another person, and how much I still wanted to give. How integral they had come to my way of life, how they had woven themselves into the fabric of my existence, my happiness a fragile ball they protected just as much if not more than I had. I was astounded and suspicious. If love felt like this why wasn’t everyone falling? I knew the answer before I had even asked the question; to be in love was to be afraid, because this person, this piece of your soul could leave, or die or break you in ways that you would never recover. It is terrifying, and the more you feel the more afraid you become, but your heart does not cease loving because of fear, and I found that John Donne was right, winter will not abate the springs increase. There is no capacity for love, it just keeps expanding and expanding, the heart forever growing, gorging on the love it keeps taking, its appetite insatiable. It can’t stop, it won’t stop and a part of you marvels at the feeling. A little slice of heaven, immortal in our love for each other.

I was content because here I had what everyone was looking for and I had found it almost accidently, without really searching. It wasn’t happiness, although there was a lot of that or sadness though there was some of that. Love to me is being perfectly content. My body at an equilibrium where it wants for absolutely nothing because it had found it in him. He wasn’t perfect and nor was I but somehow we had found peace and I was content.

Even though I lost him, my love, our love is everlasting. That love that we shared was soul deep. I can convince my mind that he is gone, my heart may never believe, but my soul? That I have no control over, that is his, there is a space inside my soul that will always be his no matter who I end up with. He will own a piece of my soul and I will own a piece of his.