It felt wrong. They were attached- like two molecules bonding and becoming one. Not that she knew enough about chemistry to make that analogy. But she hated it. It was like she was twisting and mutating; becoming something more. Yet at the same time she was losing herself. It felt good. It felt bad. She was happy. She was scared.

She didn’t know quite how to react. The feelings bubbling up inside her chest that made her feel as if she was being eaten alive by parasites. She could feel them slowly tearing her apart. They ripped and shredded her skin and organs until she was gasping and fighting for air. Her face cracked and broke, forming delirious smiles. Her mask shattered as she tried to keep some semblance of herself.

It was of no use. She was different. Maybe it was the way she talked or the glimmer in her eyes. There was a fire there that wasn’t before. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Was it better to have feverish, blazing eyes than dull, dead eyes?

She hated the change. She resented it and grit her teeth when she felt it sweep over her. Sometimes she could feel screams scrambling to climb out of her throat but she could never release them. She wanted to dig her nails into her throat and claw until she couldn’t breathe. Images of blood spurting and broken nails popped into her head like gunshot. It was so sweet. Blood lust drove her but she couldn’t spill a drop. One inch would lead to another and soon needles would be dancing in and out, thread and tapestry unraveling until she was a mess of ripped up cloth.

Her form of coping was pushing forward. She told herself she could do it and slept off the bad. It was a lie. Things never improved. It always fell apart when it was best; glass shattering so quickly that she had to scramble not to cut her feet. But they always ended up bloodied and scarred. The lines ran down the soles of her feet like tribal tattoos, marking her as a warrior all grown up and ready for battle. Sometimes she would trace the raised edges as tenderly as if she was holding a baby. She didn’t push hard enough for the psychological warfare to wreak havoc on her balance. No, she caressed them as a lover would; just enough to remember, not enough to hurt.

Every day was a fight. She worked her beat up feet to hold her up as she pushed head on. She could feel her skull splitting and becoming bruised. It was like banging her head on a wall, something she did when it got to be too much. The pressure would overflow and flood her head, washing away the good little villagers and sweeping them into the tide. They would reach up and gasp for air but soon their lungs would fill and their bodies would stop fighting.

There were monsters in the water. Big and dark with row upon row of razor sharp teeth. They sunk their fangs into her brain but she never screamed. How could she call for help? Everyone was dead and dying. She was alone in the current and sinking like a ship. Her hull was damaged- a hole too large to fix. Down, down into the deep where mermaids would push her eyelids close and lull her to sleep with their siren songs. Maybe her corpse would wash ashore, skin sagging and bones peeping through like a game of hide-and-seek.

Would they identify the remains or would the bite marks and rotting flesh be too much? Would they bury her in an unmarked grave or put a stupid title on it? “The Lost Girl who died at sea.” She could imagine the priest, feigning sympathy or maybe pity (she could never tell), and praying for her family; her soul. “May she find peace with God.” That brought a bitter laugh to her lips. Where was God when I was being dragged under?

She hated the happily ever afters she was force fed as a child. The thought of faeries and magic was more plausible than dying happily with your soul mate. And she hated the term soul mate. It brought to mind images of a person she couldn’t fathom; someone who put up with your bullshit and yet loved you unconditionally. She had too many cracks and runs for someone to love her. Not like she even wanted love.
Love was something so far away and yet she grasped for it. You always want what you can’t have, right? She would reach and reach, trying so hard to find it. Yet she stayed dark. She could barely bring herself to care for a friend. So she resigned herself. If Love came knocking, she wouldn’t turn him away. She wouldn’t exactly greet him with a plate of cookies and her “Good Wife” apron. She might stare and stare, not quite believing her eyes, until he bowed his head and whispered in a lilting, captivating voice to come in.

There were a couple of times that Love came to her doorstep. He sat there, not moving an inch, and smiled up at her. She wanted to bash his head in but she was transfixed- eyes like nothing she had ever seen before. She stood with her door half open until night fell- and night always fell- and she was forced, shivering and pale faced, to go stand by the fire. The fire was never warm enough. Only his gaze could cool or burn her. With the first ray of sunlight, she ran to the door but there was no one to be seen. All that was left was a footprint on her welcome mat that never seemed to leave. She turned it over but the other side was already branded.

She tried to scrub the memories and feelings away until she was raw and bleeding. There was no way to win. Either way, they would encompass her until she was beating her fists on the floor and screaming up to any god to just listen, to just once fucking listen. Still, there were good days. These were the days when she could push the thoughts to the back of her mind and only felt dull stabs. It only lasted so long, though. Soon she was back on her knees, pounding her fists to a bloody pulp.

But pain wasn’t unusual. It was a ritual for her to be tossed around like a ragdoll until she went limp. Fighting back left her exhausted. It was so much easier to just let the pain run rampant, burning down whatever sanity she had left. She didn’t have enough energy or pride to care about giving up. Why does it matter when you’re just going to pull a 360 and fall back to hurt?

She was unraveling. Her seams were showing and they were tattered and frayed. It was as if amateur hands crafted her, shaking with anxiety and racing to finish on time. Each thread that showed was taunting her, yelling and mocking her. She tried to pull out her hair but the ragdoll only had cloth hands that weren’t even strong enough to grip red string hair. She sat on a shelf growing dusty as she watched little kids with sticky hands eagerly grab the dolls around her. They didn’t want her. She was ugly and broken beyond repair. The toy maker’s first creation but even he didn’t like to look at her.

On her shelf she sat alone. The other dolls ignored her as she pleaded for them to look at her. Please, someone look at me! No one ever did. Their button eyes stared blankly at her as her cloth mouth opened in unheard cries.

There was one curiosity. There was a doll sitting on the shelf in front of her who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. In her head, she imagined him laughing at her plight. Yet she found herself growing fond of him.

He was beautiful- the toymaker’s finest work. His blushing cheeks and blue button eyes always reflected a smile. He wore rich clothes, as if he was a prince. Somehow, no one would buy this doll. He was expensive and too nice for a child to throw against the wall or chew on. She thought the toymaker would never sell him, anyways, because he was perfection.

One day, the toymaker moved him next to her. Maybe he thought the doll’s beauty would rub off on her and she would finally be sold. Maybe he saw how they were watching each other and thought they belonged together. It didn’t matter. She was sitting next to the most beautiful doll in the shop, a position the other dolls coveted.

They began talking. He hushed her cries and soothed her pain. Just being near him calmed her pounding head. Was it love? She couldn’t tell. The feeling broke over her in waves and filled up her lungs. It hurt but the pain was good. Still, she couldn’t shake away the fear that someday a child would come running into the store and beg for him. She would be left alone in the shop forever and he would surely forget her.

She was losing herself. She hated love but she also wanted it. She hated feelings but she loved the way he made her feel. Her heart was a warzone. One side wanted to wave a white flag and run away but the other made them keep on fighting. Always fighting.

She tried to choke it back. She gasped and gulped, trying desperately to get rid of the doubt. It replaced her blood until only doubt and insecurity was running through her veins. How could he love me? How could he ever love me?

Broken and beaten, she wasn’t the type for clichés. She didn’t want to be saved. She liked floundering towards the lighthouse instead of letting herself be dragged on a boat. She couldn’t stop him no matter how much she wanted to. He was there fighting away the demons as she rotted into the floorboards. No matter how she felt, he was always there. He haunted her like the ghost of a dead family member. She needed to know he was there but at the same time, all she wanted was for him to be gone.

The battles raged through out her body. From her head to her heart to her nerves, she kicked and punched. She wasn’t sure what side she was on. All she wanted was to be happy or to just fade away. But she wasn’t allowed to fade. There were strict rules against it that made it impossible for her to drift into the shadows. She had to adopt the sword or the bow to keep herself safe. Safety was never a problem before. She never cared.

Up, down, thrust, parry. It was the same routine. Even if he tried to save her, she was the one locked inside her mind. No one could help her. She was beyond the point of no return, cast over the edge of oblivion and exiled into darkness. She could only take refuge in his light. Sooner or later, he would leave her stranded. Everyone did. No amount of love could keep it from happening. It was how the books were written; what wind whispered with tongues older than time.

Her only hope was the relief in knowing she was right. If she left first, it would save her some pain. It would still burn like a firebrand to the heart but at least it wouldn’t turn her to ash. The heat wouldn’t disintegrate her even if it would leave her crumbling. But maybe it was better to break all at once. She didn’t care. She only had what she knew and that was the slow and steady build up. All at once, she would bust like a body that’s been gorged with food. That was what she was used to. Slowly falling to pieces as the world turned around her. It was home. Everything else felt wrong, no matter how right it was.

If Love wanted in, he could break a window.

I had to sprout wings, which is a painful process, and fly across the border. There were gunmen shooting at me and there were bombs being shot at me. I ended up taking a bullet in the wing and one in the leg. No bombs managed to hit me. I limped through a deep, dark forest filled with dangerous animals and waded through a river swimming with piranhas. I got chewed up but luckily I taste very bitter so the damage was minimal.
So, I’m now I’m soaking wet with water and blood. I’ve got a hole in my wing and leg. I’ve been bitten by piranhas. You’d think it couldn’t get any worse, right? Well, for some unfathomable reason there are mountains across the river. Who knew they could fit all this in a little country town? Anyways, this mountain is frickin’ huge. There are no paths so I have to stumble around trying to find my way. It’s getting dark now. Sadly, I’m unable to fly anymore. My wings are beyond repair.
I hobble a little ways up the mountain and stop. Is- is that a mountain lion? I think to myself. Well, it looks like one. So I stay still and hope it’ll go away. I can’t run anywhere as I’m surrounded by trees and have a hole in my leg. I just stand there as it comes closer and closer. Its yellow eyes stare at me hungrily and then it attacks. My blood is too bitter for even the mountain lion, though. After a few nibbles and one big bite, it leaves me alone.
I begin my trek across the mountain. It’s very slow going and it’s getting dark. I’m so cold. The blood won’t stop flowing so I rip up my jacket and tie up my wounds. I’m feeling a little light headed by now but I can’t rest. I have letters to send!
I trip and stumble over the mountain and finally reach town as morning breaks. But what’s this? THE TOWN IS BEING ATTACKED BY AN ANGRY MONSTER! The townspeople are scared and they ask me for help. I look pretty tough and gritty all covered in blood and dirt. So I tell them I’ll help because maybe I’ll get my letters sent for free.
This monster is huge and mean. He looks really sad, though, and I have an idea. Maybe if the whole town bands together and sings him a song he’ll cheer up. I spread the word and soon everyone is in the town square. People bring various instruments, including pots and pans. I start making up lines off the top of my head and everyone sings them together.The monster is a bit skeptical at first but after awhile one tiny tear rolls down his cheek. He leans down and looks me in the eyes with one of his big eyes and says, “Did you tell them to do this?”
I reply, “Yes, masir.”
He smiles at me and reaches out a clawed hand. He places the hand around me and the townsfolk start to look anxious. I’m not scared, though. His hand begins to glow rainbow. The townsfolk let out a collective gasp. Slowly, the rainbow light begins to make its way through me. I can feel my energy being restored and the wounds closing. It’s a funny feeling, really. A hush has fallen over the crowd and my eyes begin to close. When I awaken, I find myself in the monster’s palm.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask groggily.
“Only a few minutes,” He tells me with a small smile. I notice that his eyes have gone from a fiery red to a light purple. His skin has also gone from obsidian black to a pale blue. He seems to be doing a lot better. We talk for a bit and he tells me that he had been having a bad day. The roof on his underground home collapsed and it woke him up from his hibernation. He yawned as he said that. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone but his species has a bad temper.
I told him that it’s alright. His home would be rebuilt in time for spring. He looked at me with those sad eyes and said softly, “Where will I sleep?” I told him about a nice cave I had seen on the mountain and he nodded. He didn’t really want to find and new home but if he had to…
I told him thank you for healing me and he gave me a whistle. He said, “If you ever need anything, just blow this whistle and I’ll come.” We hugged, which was quite hard as he’s huge, and he put me down on the ground. I wiped away a tear as he walked away and slowly faded into the skyline. I stood around for some time trying to remember what I came to do. I knew it was important but I didn’t know what it was. Suddenly, I saw the letters clutched in my hand and remembered.
I walked to the post office wondering how my monster friend liked his new cave. I reached it within a few minutes and went inside. There was a long line because everyone was mailing letters about the monster attack. Their friends wouldn’t believe it! I waited in line and finally it was my turn. I stepped up and gave my letters to the man behind the counter. He put the stamps and whatnot on them and I paid. The town was a bit stingy and needed all the money they could get for rebuilding so I had to pay.
As I stepped outside the post office, the sun was setting. It had taken about two days to send off the letters. I sprouted my wings again and, probably because of the monster, it didn’t hurt. I also found I could turn invisible whilst flying so I wouldn’t get shot at. I made sure to check on my monster friend on the way home. He was sleeping soundly with a small smile on his face. I could hear him humming the song we sang him.
I gave him a pat on the head and took off. The fly home was quite nice. The sky was a mixture of colours and there was a light breeze. I didn’t have to worry about the guards which was great. There also wasn’t any wing pain to worry about.
I got home just as the sky was turning black. I immediately went to assess the damage. My clothes were ripped and beyond repair. I was covered in dirt and blood. There were no signs of having ever been wounded, though. I didn’t feel sore and I could move everything.

Looking back, the pain was worth it. It was excruciating but in the end it didn’t matter. I was a hero to a whole town and a sweet monster. That monster and I became good friends and I learned a lot about him. For instance, his name is Robaloffalus and he really likes to sew pillows with cats on them. He is of a rare species of monster that most call Rainbow Lragon. The scientific name is much too long to type and very hard to pronounce.
Robaloffalus also learned that his troubles were worth it. While in the mountains, he met a sweet boy Lragon named Jolaaar. They combined rainbow spirits and found out they were rainbowmates. This is a good thing because combining rainbow spirits is dangerous. If you try to combine with the wrong person, you will both be consumed by a rainbow fire. This fire will burn until not even your soul is intact. That’s why Rainbow Lragons are a rare species.
Robaloffalus and Jolaaar decided to stay in the mountains instead of going back to the town. I visit them at least twice a week. When I’m near them, I’m surrounded by a rainbow aura which instantly makes me feel better. They’ve adopted me as a bit of a brother and told me if they have a kid, not only can I name it, but I can be its uncle. I’ve been told that I have a bit of the rainbow spirit in me. I suppose that means I’m part Lragon. I kind of hope so.
Anyways, this is what I had to go through to mail the letters. I hope you’re all happy with what you get. It was surely an adventure.

Charles couldn’t sleep that night. His mind was a whirl of thoughts. It felt as if a train was driving through his head. He stood up, his legs barely able to hold him. The room was spinning faster and faster each second. Suddenly, there was a flash of bright light. The room stopped spinning and everything was quiet.

Charles couldn’t believe his eyes. There was a train in the middle of his room. Each car was a different colour of the rainbow and covered in glitter. The conductor grinned up at him madly.  He was wearing goggles, a suit and a rainbow cape which, like the train, was covered in glitter. The strange man pushed up the goggles to reveal hazel eyes that sparkled with insanity.

“Wh-who are you?” Charles asked, his voice faltering.

The man cackled and replied, “Oh my dear yada, you have so much to learn.” With a swoosh of his cape, he turned away. Charles watched him, unsure of what to do. “Are you coming, Charles?” The man inquired without even turning around.

“Where are we going?”

“To Yadaland, of course!”

What Charles didn’t know yet, was that there is magic. He himself is among the most magical of creatures. Every night he would wish that there was something more. Maybe a funny man in a big blue box would take him away or maybe a letter describing a school for witches and wizards would come in the mail. He didn’t know, he didn’t even care. All he wanted was to find that magic; find that place where he could shine.

So, there he sat in his room, thinking of how life could be. Little did he know that day would change his life. He went about the day as he usually did; wake up, go to school, go home, do homework. There was nothing that said it would be a good day.

The sky was grey and dripping with rain when he woke. The roads were wet and as he walked to school his heart filled with longing. Why am I here in this sad, grey world? he thought as he trudged along the sidewalks. His school bag felt heavy on his shoulder, almost as heavy as his aching heart. He hated his high school. The people there were so boring and close-minded. No concept of imagination, he thought bitterly.

Whenever he brought up magic, the other students scoffed. “Magic, Charles? Are you stupid?  If magic existed, we wouldn’t be in school right now. We’d all be flying around in the sky like birds!” A student named Amy remarked. Charles just crossed his arms and walked away. They won’t tell me what I know. I’ll show them all that magic exists! That was his plan. It seemed stupid even to him. What Amy said was true but he wouldn’t admit it.

The whole day he couldn’t concentrate. Even his most favourite subjects passed in a blur. All he could think of was finding that one little piece of magic. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He could be eaten by witches or kidnapped by faeries. He could be consumed by evil on his quest. There were so many things that could go wrong. He wasn’t even sure where to begin looking! It all seemed like a dream- just a children’s tale that he’d devote his whole life to and then grow old and insane alone.

He sighed and glanced at the clock. There were only a few minutes of class left. Soon the bell would ring and he could begin his journey. He directed his attention back to the blank piece of paper on his desk. He was supposed to be taking notes. How could he possibly concentrate on vocabulary when he was about to go on a life changing quest?

Suddenly, a loud ringing sound filled his ears. It took him a minute to realize it was the school bell. Frantically, he closed his books and packed everything up. The teacher stared at him, annoyance written all over her pale face. “Did I tell you that you were allowed to go yet, Mr. Wesley?” She called as he raced out the door. He didn’t even notice. His mind was already far, far away.

Charles looked up at the sky as he ran out of the school. The sun was blazing like the depths of his soul. There were no clouds to block the light. As he looked at that orb of burning light, he knew what he had to do. There was no doubt in his mind or shadow over his heart. He had to find magic at all costs.

NOTE: The events in this story are not exactly how it happened. This story is based on real life.

I hope you enjoy that tale. I’ll write Part Two, tomorrow. I’m now off to the post office to mail a package to my dear, sweet PLC.