The Fire That Came With Fang

                    Air. There wasn't enough air. It was so hot that my whole body throbbed in what I named as fire. Not fire, my skin was not singed, but it certainly felt like it was. Air. I couldn't get enough air. The fire wouldn't let me. This feeling was overwhelming. My heart was pounding with the effort it took to absorb it all. And I couldn't. But I had to. I couldn't, though, and that scared me most of all.

               Green eyes. Dark and gorgeous, brimming with emotions that I couldn't fully understand. Boring into my own eyes, surely wide with the worry and fear I felt. They explored an expanse of skin never revealed to any other but myself. Hands, much, much larger than my own, travled and traced odd shapes and things I wished I knew what they were, because a smile lightened his face when he made them, so surely they were nice. They fiddled with my hair and calmed the tension in my muscles, but did nothing for the fire. Made it worse. They rekindled the fire and poked at it to make it burn stronger. And I tried and tried to stop them, but he always whispered into my hair kind words that made me think for far too long. Soft lips. Full and gentle, parting as he spoke reassurances to me. Trailed light kisses down unexplored skin. Made me squirm and sometimes giggle. And he'd chuckle with me, because, he said, he loved me.

               He loved me.

               And what I felt could not be described. A warmth, in my tummy and chest, fluttering and tickling me, and what I figured to be a goofy smile crossed my features, and his laughter made me blush. But his eyes were no longer dark and scary, but shiny and happy. The room was dark, and the blankets were warm around us, and his skin was hot and flush against my own, but in the light of the moon I saw that strange golden hue that made him so unique. And a kiss from him was all I wanted. So my fingers tangled in soft, soft, dusty gray hair, and his lips were like velvet. The fire scoarched between us, and the noise he made was feral and made me shiver. I was on my back and we were so close, and the fire didn't leave. It burned me and left me breathless, and he did not break the kiss. The pain I felt was clouded over by the hunger for his proximity. So close that no part of me was not touching him in some way. My legs tangled with his, with his hard belly pressed against my own, his arms around me, one hand supporting the back of my head, the other around my lower back, pressing us closer.

               And his sudden but careful movement made me break away with a startled gasp. What was this? I struggled in his arms but he only tightened his grip on me. His hips pulled away, and then back in, and the foreign feeling made me panic. My frantic movements made him press his face into my hair and pant. And his hips pulled away again, pushing in a little more forcefully than before. The more he did it, the less I struggled, and I stopped moving. But his hand, the one that had held us together, grasped my hip and pulled me upward as he pushed down, and the noise he made brought another shiver. So I mimicked his movements, and he kissed me. The rhythm was slow, gentle, and the sighs and whispers he made made me whimper. The feeling was...amazing. Waves of heat and pleasure overtook me as we moved together.
                "You don't how long I've waited for this," he rasped in my ear.
                That stopped me. "What?"
                He pushed back a little to look at me. "You've been locked up for thirteen years. I was forced to wait for you to finally awaken..." He pressed his face into my neck, breathing in deeply. "It was torturous."
                 "So all you really cared about was this?" I gestured to our bodies, still pressed real close but unmoving.
                 "What? No. I wanted you. I longed to see you again, to hold you, to finally talk to my mate..." He brushed my hair from my face. "I know it's a lot to take in. I went through the same thing. I spent months trying to wrap my head around it. Years, actually, while you were locked up, and, until I saw you, I denied it and tried to fight it. But when I saw you...everything changed." He kissed the tip of my nose affectionately. "It's strange for me, too, this feeling," he motioned to our bodies. "But it feels natural," he murmured, and I nodded in agreement. He smiled. "Please, just let this happen. And I'll explain the rest later."
                 "Okay," I said. His smile was brilliant. He reached down and pulled my legs up to wrap around his waist, and he pressed closer. With his lips glued to mine, he began the same gentle rhythm that I mimicked perfectly. The friction burned us both in turn, heating our already hot skin. Drops of sweat rolled down his toned stomach, and disappeared between our bodies, in black hair and gray hair, mixed together in our intimacy. I briefly wondered what was going on down there. I wondered why our bodies could be so close, why the feeling was generating from there... I pushed him back gently, and though he looked confused, he let me. I shifted, sitting up a little as he continued moving, and gasped at what I saw. He was inside me. "Oh," I breathed. "Oh my... Wha...?" He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me.
                 "It's natural," he reminded me. I nodded, unsure, and allowed him to push me onto my back again. I felt small, very small beneath him, holding me close. Small and fragile. He treated me as if I'd break. And...it both pleased me in a strange way, and wounded my ego. I'd always wanted to be strong. I wanted to prove to him I was strong. I pushed his shoulder, and, again, although he looked confused, he let me. He trusted me enough to do as I wanted. I flipped us so he was on his back instead. My hands splayed on his chest at the sensation, his own hands automatically grabbing my hips. We stared at each other, unsure, and then I moved and he closed his eyes, sighing. He moved with me, saying things I didn't quite understand. "Hana," he moaned. And I felt a jolt. The first time he's said my name, and in such a way.
                 "Fang," I whimpered. There was a tightening feeling in my lower stomach, and I knew I was reaching something. I went faster, harder, and felt his hands tighten on my sides, copying me. He flipped us over but didn't slow. He grabbed my knees and hooked his arms under them, somehow going in deeper. He growled at me and attacked my neck with kisses, earning a shiver. "Wha...? Fang...what's happening?" I asked as the feeling tightened further, my body beginning to tremble.
                He shook his head. He trailed firey kisses down my neck, along my collarbone and toward my chest. His tongue traced shapes all around, nipping gently at me. "Just let go." And so I did. Everything went white, and, vaguely, I heard him howl my name, and I screamed his.

                 I woke up in his arms. He was softly humming a song I didn't know but calmed me, playing with my hair. He smiled when I opened my eyes. His eyes were golden, sparkling with happiness, and he kissed me on the lips lightly. I blushed and buried my face in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, feeling his soft laughter rumble through him. I gasped when I saw the necklace he wore. It was a fang.
                 When I had been younger, I had hung a necklace on my wall, because I was yet too small to wear it. I had told myself that one day, one day when I proved myself worthy enough of such a beautiful necklace, I'd wear it. In this world, people wear the fangs of animals they have conquered, animals they have rightfully slain. The fang I'd hung on my wall was a creature my own father had defended us from, and made into a necklace just for me. But I told him I would not wear it until I had slain an animal on my own. I had, but I'd given the tooth to my brother, the shark tooth. Before I got a chance to wear it, the whole incident occurred.
                 The necklace Fang wore was of a creature I'd recognize anywhere: A Nightmare. Nightmares were just what their name implied. They manifested someone's greatest fear, were born from fear, fed off of fear... They were highly dangerous, difficult to kill, and anyone who killed them was held highly in society. The necklace Fang wore wasn't my father's; it was his own. My father's necklace had been made out of hemp, tightly woven in a braided pattern with small, pink hued shells in honor of my being a girl, two midnight blue beads on either side of the actual fang, in honor of our eyes. But Fang's was a black leather necklace, with only two silver beads on either side of the fang. But this fang was longer, sharper, darker than my father's had been. Meaning it had been much, much stronger.
                  I didn't know what Fang had been through, what he's done in his life, what he goes through even now, but what I did know was that he was strong. Stronger than my own father. I had never known anyone could be stronger than my father. But now that I did, I felt a great sense of both security and apprehension. This man with the most beautiful eyes, with the kindest smiles, with the touch that burned me so, was my mate. My husband. He was here to  protect me, to care for me, to love me... But my mind could not fully accept it. My father had been the foundation of my life, the man I went to for saftey, for comfort. But I'd never felt more comfortable than right here in Fang's arms as he twisted midnight colored locks between two long fingers, humming that song that made my heart slow and my mind drift toward sleep, made me want to furrow deep in his chest and never leave. But my skin brushed the tooth, and I felt my heart begin to pound.
                  I was bigger now, an adult. I'd slain my own animal. And though it had been long, long ago, I'd still done it. So where was my own display of triumph? I sat up, looking around my room, as if I'd find it there. Fang lightly touched my shoulder as he sat up with me, moving to lie on his stomach, leaning upward toward me. He kissed me, my forehead, my cheeks, my chin, my ear, my jaw, until he was trailing down my neck, making my body come alive, burning for him again as he lit the fire all over again. As he reached my collarbone, me already gasping for air, he lightly pulled at something, his teeth--sharp and lethal as I'd seen last night--clicked against something, and he gave a playful growl. The sound made me giggle for some reason. As I looked down to see what it was he was playing with, the laughter ceased. I was already wearing my father's necklace. Fang had half of the long, sharp, pale tooth between his own line of teeth, pulling lightly, still giving soft growls. I felt an overwhelming amount of both adoration for my silly husband and pride in the necklace.
                 I combed my fingers through his gray hair and asked, "How did it get on me?" He tilted his head up, releasing the fang and letting it fall back toward me, a new feeling I hadn't noticed as the fang connected with my skin, and pressed his nose to my ear.
                 "I put it on you. As you slept." He smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry if that's strange."
                 I shook my head, smiling back. "It's not. Thank you."
                 He shrugged and kissed me. Something snapped between us, the fire surging through both of us, and I was suddenly lying down, clawing at his back as he quickly filled me. I cried out in what I guessed was relief, and our movements were frantic. Now that I knew a little more of what to do, I felt no shame in kissing his skin as well, tracing my own patterns on him. I murmured things in his ear, and he whispered things in mine. But it all ended with our names. With "I love you".
                  Lying in the aftermath, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me, he gently stroked my arm, a flame burning with every stroke. I couldn't deny this fire Fang brought, the one I was sure no one else could. He said he felt it, too. Felt it like no one else has ever caused. And I blushed. I didn't quite regret this all. Didn't quite hate it as I thought.                                    

While In The Prison Of Ice

The years I spent in that prison of ice had been very long and very tough. See, I had been in there for thirteen years. I was already twenty-five! Illogical now that I thought about it. What kind of an idiot would do that to a twleve-year-old? ...Of course that was a rhetorical question. Anyway, for the time being, they've given me supplements to give me the information I had missed whilst in my prison of ice. It was sometimes too much to take in, all these changes. And it pained me now that I had to see it.

~~~*~~~

Jagger was a whole foot taller than me now, with silvery-blonde hair and silvery-blue and silvery-green eyes. He had three metal rings in his thin, right eyebrow, green, red, and blue. Silver snake-bites in his pale pink, lower lip. Three piercings in his left ear, and four in his right. He wore raggedy, bright clothing with silly, meaningless quotes on the shirts, elaborate, intricate patterens all over them; torn up, pale pants with long chains hanging from his pockets and colorful buttons; black combat boots, wrecked from years of use. Years I wasn't there...

My brother was much taller than me now, too. And it hurt me how much he changed.

His face, now a man's, was hard and cold, calculating. His hair was longer, but brushed down from the wild mess it once was, tamed in a way I had never wanted it to be. His eyes, still the same color as my own, lost their old shine. They were emotionless now, with so much darkness lingering in them, so many things there I was sure I would never understand. Because I wasn't there. He now wore all black, with skulls or words, saying things I didn't quite understand. He no longer wore the shark-tooth necklace I had made him; he now wore the fangs and eyes of beasts I hadn't even seen yet. And when I smiled at him, he did not smile back. He did not look me in the eyes...

My father and mother now had wrinkles in place of smooth skin, white strands intermixed with black, softness in place of danger. They spoke of sweet things, comforting things, and smiled at me the warmest smiles. They did not mention prison and anger and hatred and loneliness and longing. They gave me food and warmth. But when I looked them in the eye, they looked away.

The other four girls had grown up to beautiful women. And I learned that I had not been the only one through suffering. But that was another story completely.

The real story lies with the boy-I-disliked-from-class, now turned the-man-I-cannot-look-away-from.

~~~*~~~

I had grown up quite a bit as well. But it was most startling in the beginning. It seemed that during my imprisonment, I had changed quite a bit. In the reflection of my prison of ice, I saw what had become of me. Instead of the pitch black hair I was so used to, I had hair as blue as the sky itself. Instead of my midnight blue eyes, I had eyes so pink, they almost glowed. Instead of the coffee brown skin I knew, my skin was as pale as snow. A hot bath cured that right up. For an hour, I sat in a boiling hot tub of water and scrubbed at my skin with peach-smelling soap until all the ice had cracked and fallen away, until my brown skin was once again my own. I massasged mango-scented shampoo into my scalp until my waist-length hair no longer had the remnants of my sorrow and pain and loneliness, back into the hair that reminded me of the starless, moonless night I saw every month. I kept my head underwater, eyes open, until all the anger and hatred and regret had left my eyes, and they were once again the blue I was so famous for.

And I saw how much I'd grown. Five-foot-six, with the voluptuous body my mom had had, and a face so lovely I surprised myself into silence. I resembled my mother greatly, beautiful and strong, but with the warmth my father had always had in his eyes and face. And so, as the Elders had said, I was a work of art, just as they had expected of the Goddess of Water. And I frowned because I didn't want to think of what I had become. What I had never wanted to be.

And the boy with the beautiful eyes was now a man with beautiful eyes. He was so tall, the top of my head barely reached his shoulders, and so handsome I scowled at the ground with a blush on my face the whole time the Elders spoke to us. His eyes, now more golden than green, shined so brightly that I almost cried. His skin was darker than mine, yes, but looked so soft, stretched over muscles gained from war and hardwork. He smiled a gentle smile at me, the first real smile I'd seen since he freed me, and did not look away when I looked him in the eye.

And they told us we were perfect for one another. And the confusion I felt was so strong I didn't notice his smile.

~~~*~~~

We were married.

Dear God... married... I was married to him?!

But the feeling I felt was not fully disgust. And not fully anger. And not fully disappointment.

It was part elation.

~~~*~~~

The wedding band was gold. Pure gold. With the word "Fang" on it. I had no idea why until he told me his name was Fang. The sudden rush of embarrassment I felt was somewhat painful... Honestly, what kind of a wife doesn't know her own husband's name?

The wedding band did not feel heavy on my finger like I had used to think it would when I was a kid. No, I barely felt it at all. But it was there. A reminder when I noticed good looking men walking around, when I would brush my hair back self consciously, the light catching off the lovely gold. And I would have a moment of guilt and self disgust and ignore the confused looks as I hurried off somewhere to wallow in self pity.

The wedding band was nothing special, but the simplicity implied the worth, and, if my assumption was correct, it had cost a fortune. And that made me bite my lip in the anxiety of my disbelief. I didn't like the thought of someone spending so much money just for me. But when I broached the subject, he merely smile and brushed my hair behind my ear.

He brushed my hair behind my ear.

And my heart had never felt so light.

~~~*~~~

It was Fang who started it.

In our new house. With the fog that never went away, on the wide wooden pier, above a crystal clear lake with a billion different kinds of fish and creatures that made my smile so very geniunely happy. The wooden house that made me feel comfortable and safe, with the two walls made of glass in the front that gave a clear view of who came and went and the front yard that had no grass but a huge garden where aquatic plants grew. The floors were all wooden except for the bedrooms, which had smooth white carpet, soft to the touch. The couch was made of wood, with white cushions and brown throw pillows. The coffee table in front of it was wooden, with a bunch of recent magazines of random things and books about animals and stuff that made me want to sit and read for a long long time. The kitchen was simple and the table was big enough for four people and was placed in front of one of the glass walls and that made me glad for some reason. The walls were bare and not many decorations lit up my new, quaint house, and when I asked why, he told me it was because he wanted me to choose. And that made me smile.

The master bedroom was where it started. The bed was large, king-sized, with a white comforter and a bunch of white pillows. The nightstands were wooden of course, with white lamps. I was sensing a pattern... The bathroom was big. There was a giant marble bathtub with lots of soaps and stuff. And the shower was behind a wall made up of opaque glass, the tiles of the shower a mud brown that made it dark but warm. Nice to be in. I liked the house. It was the kind of house you had never dreamed of having and are left wondering why. The kind of house you might have thought displeasing if seen in photos, but pleasing if seen in person. The kind of house that made me feel perfectly content to spend the rest of my life in.

And as I turned to share this feeling with him, I felt the world come to a stop. His eyes were dark, more green than gold now, and I felt a fear I had never felt before. He walked toward me and I backed away. My back hit the glass wall. And he was right there.

And I realized much more had changed while I was gone.

Most Unpredicted, Uncalled For, And Unnecessary Thing Ever

With all the rage and commotion going on around me about my situation, I had to be outright honest when I say I did not feel any different than before. So all of the attention I was getting was a little stupid. I wasn't trying to come off as rude or ungrateful or anything. No, I was glad people now knew I existed as something other than the girl who could make a kickass cupcake. What I didn't like was the attention. I'd lived my whole life, or at least the twelve years of it, living invisible. Now, obviously, it was impossible to be invisible, what with our poplulation size being so small, but I wasn't the most interesting thing ever...is what I'm trying to say. See, it all went down like this: The Elders found out about my Encounter and cornered me, asking question after question and whispering to each other, and then taking me to the Temple and checking to see if it was true with a test, which was just me fiddling with water and I guess I passed because they all looked real happy and congradulated me; my parents praised me repeatedly and so did many others; the-boy-I-disliked-from-class was thanked profusely for saving me; my brother was more quiet, and avoided me at school. Although the Goddess of Water had kept her promise on helping my brother, and he did make friends now and was more open at school, I felt more like I lost him. With my parents so focused on the quickly growing interest from people all around, my friends captivated by the attention that came to all of us as a group because of me, and my twin brother giving me the cold shoulder, I felt more alone than ever.

And yet I wasn't.

Four other girls, my exact age, had gone through the same exact thing with the other Elemental Goddesses. The Goddess of Earth: Senna, the daughter of two very active and exercize-loving, weapon specialists whom was planning on following in her parents' footsteps; she had been rock climbing with her parents and suddenly slipped and, if not for the Encounter, she would have surely met her doom. The Goddess of Wind: Maria, daughter of a mechanic and cook whom was planning on following in her father's footsteps, with her newfound fondness of cars; she had been on top of a ladder, looking for some pieces for her father, when her foot slipped, and had the Encounter in midair. The Goddess of Fire: Rem, daughter of a beast tamer and a recently late mother, planning to become a Math teacher; she had been practicing taming a dragon, and it became frustrated and blew fire at her, intending to burn her flesh, when she had her Encounter. The Goddess of Lightning: Suki, daughter of King, Princess and Heiress to the throne; she had been practicing her Power and it had backfired and almost consumed her, when her Encounter occurred; in the royal family, lightning-control was the trademark ability. I noticed the pattern: You must have had a near-death experience to have it. Which was unnerving.


~~*~~


"Why are you all by yourself?" Jagger asked one day. Ah, Jagger, how could I forget him? He was my very best friend, since we were five, playing on seesaws and building mud castles together. His hair was platinum blonde now, where as, back then, he was dirty blonde, and his hair color was getting lighter and lighter as the years passed, as well as his eyes. Back then his eyes had been a gray color, now, amazingly, they were two different colors--left blue, right green--and they were getting lighter with a silvery tint.

I shrugged. "I'm weird." He sat down next to me, on the dirty ground of the park. He handed me a juice box and we both drank in silence, watching other kids run around, playing games. For a moment, I imagined a bubble around us, protecting us from watchful eyes and scrutinizing glares. And I felt safe, because that's just what Jagger did to me. I felt comfortable, and accepted, and, right then, that was just what I needed. Even in the silence that would seem awkward to anyone who didn't understand us, I felt like I belonged, right there, sitting beside Jagger.

"You're not weird," he said after a while, meeting my eyes briefly before looking back out at the rest of the world. It wasn't to reassure me, I knew, but, rather, to remind me. "You're just different. You're unique."

"Aren't we all?" I asked. He looked at me, confused, and I smiled emotionlessly. "You're unique...just like everybody else." He smiled back ruthlessly.

"You know a little too much to be a tweleve-year-old." His expression took on a playful one. "Careful, Hana, they might just put you down."

I laughed. "Like a wounded horse?"

"Heck yeah," he said. He poked my side, and we both drank juice in comfortable silence.

~~*~~

It all started very simply. The constriction of my freedom drove me wild. The fact that I took action surprised not only the rest of the world, but me as well. But it was just so stupid. They believed that now that I was who I was, I could do no wrong. So that's how this all started. The finding of the beast within me was quite accidental, and yet it wasn't. They brought this out on their own. This was all their fault. Or so I told myself.

One wrong move, one simple slip of the tongue, one mistake, and I was suddenly a crimminal. At the age of tweleve, I was so notorious, I was surprised there wasn't a bounty on me. One bad judgement, one stupid decision, one childish act, and I was being contained in a cage like a monster. And I suddenly hoped for my old life back. Because the hard, emotionless glare in those mindnight blue eyes made my heart wrench in two. Because my little brother would never, ever smile at me again.

~~*~~

No longer did I feel the biting cold I once did, nor the painful loneliness. The darkness was blinding, but I had no need to see. The life and color had been sucked out of my life as it was. I needed nothing but the things they gave me. Because I was nothing without them. Thoughts were useless here. Happiness was but a dream.

Do they think of me, like I think of them? Do they wish they hadn't judged me so harshly? Or do they smile smugly because they know they won?

Frozen in ice as I was, emotion was nothing but a vague dream that I no longer saw. A hope I no longer had. Because I was nothing but a monster. Because I can still see the look in her eyes. The fear in those big brown eyes... No longer was I the saint I was before, no longer invisible to the world, though the world was invisible to me...

If I told someone of my pain, would they take pity on me? Or scowl at me and say it was what I deserved for losing control and slaughtering young life so coldly?

~~*~~

It was the heat that brought me back. My eyes had been closed for so long, that they opened with the hesitation of the shy little girl I used to be, and saw nothing but the webbed patterns of pale blue, silvery strands of what was once coal black hair, pale white flesh of what was once coffee-cream brown. Nothing but the nothing I had seen for the longest time. And, in the fear of being hated, I closed my eyes, and waited for it all to go black again. But it didn't and that, for some reason, angered me. I supposed having no emotion for so long had left me with nothing but the bitterness I never had the chance to feel, never had the chance to show. And so it happened. The control I forgot I had kept in check all this time crumbled to pieces, and I felt the surge of power I did that fateful night, and I suddenly no longer felt scared, no longer felt nothing.

All around me, bright and eerie, the light of my power, glowing in my peculiar prison, and then a sharp crack and I was free. But the terror I felt as I realized nothing was happening to the perpetrator. Or, rather, I could do nothing to the perpetrator. Because the most beautiful green eyes were staring right at me, and they gave me nothing to fear, nothing to hate, nothing to hurt, and I broke down for the first time in the longest time.

~~*~~

With those green eyes, kind smiles.

With those green eyes, gentle hands that took away the pain.

With those green eyes, promising reassurances.

With those green eyes, the warmth of a home.

With those green eyes, granted peace of mind.

With those green eyes, I fell in love.

The Day I Lost It All, I Gained It All

On hot days like these, I liked to close my eyes and just listen to the sounds around me. The crashing of the waves off in the distance, washing off on the shore, making that faint sizzle-sound I loved so much. The laughter of children while they play, the squeals when someone decides to try the water and find that it's cold, the chatter amongst adults, the calls of the seagulls up above. Closer, still; the sounds of glass against wood, the clink-clank of metal against glass, the rustle of leafs from the greenary around, the sound of a rocking hammock in the wind. I smiled when I felt a cool, damp rag fall across my forehead. Cracking open an eye, I met the gaze of my twin brother. We were the same height, same weight, with the same pitch black hair, dark skin, and midnight blue eyes. We always dressed the same despite our gender differences, except on Sundays because those were church days, and we had the same interests. The only way to tell us apart was our hair--his cropped short and spiky, mine long, down to my waist, and slightly shinier--and my hot pink, hibiscus-shaped flower necklace and his black, shark-toothed necklace. Today we both wore ripped, faded blue jeans, rolled up at the legs to clear our sandal-clad feet, and white t-shirts.

"Hi there," I said, with my smile still plastered on my face. He rolled his eyes.

"Hi," he murmured. "Let me on." I moved aside and he climbed into the hammock with me. We pulled the sides in so we could see through the white netting. The trees high above, the sun warming us from heads to toes, the clouds shaped artfully, the wind a ghost, passing over gently. I felt as relaxed as a baby. "It's a slow day today," he commented.

"Why do you think I'm back here?" I asked.

He shrugged and the hammock swayed. "Being lazy again."

I smiled. "Well...not today. I actually felt like working today." The sun burned on, and my eyes closed, a small smile frozen on my face. "What a waste."

"You're lying." His voice fit into the scene, calm and soothing and distant, as if he were afraid of ruining the day's perfection.

"Yes. Yes I am." We laughed together mutely. Our laughter died off with the wind, and there was only the warmth and the happiness left over.

"I hate school," he whispered, turning his head toward mine to say it in my ear, a secret only I will ever know. "Nobody talks to me."

"I do," I offered, mimicking his actions.

He shook his head. "It's not enough." His voice trembled. My heart gave a throb for my suffering brother. I hated to see him this way.

"You're fine," I said to him.

"I'm useless."

"You're perfect."

"...I...I'm not...I..."

Between us, through the netting and the pain, our hands intertwined. A silent promise, unspoke on our lips, a secret never to be revealed. His suffering, his lonesome days, were known to only me. My pain, my longing wishes, were known to none but him. I was the only one who knew he was all alone in this world, that he only had me. He was the only one who knew how much I mourned the loss of my dear, sweet grandmother. While he spent his time hating the world, I spent mine hating myself. I knew she was gone and never coming back. I accepted that fact. But he still had hope. He didn't have to be alone. He chose the path on his own.

"You're perfect," I repeated, because it was true. He was so much better than me. Smart, with vasts amounts of potential. My only hope was to run the family shop until I died.

A moment of contemplating silence. "I know."



~~*~~


My days as an eleven-year-old were spent going to school and working at the family shop. School was a piece of cake. While my brother gushed over getting those A's we always got, I just shrugged it off and said, "You're supposed to get those." Work was easy. The shop was on the beach, a cute little shack that served refreshments and homemade food and ice cream. I always got requests to make sweets so I did, and I was payed nicely, and saved the money in a turtle-shaped piggy bank in my room. It wasn't an exciting life, but I guess I had to get used to it. It was my future after all.

While my brother played videogames in the hammock, I worked. I wiped down the wooden countertop, fixed the pyramid-stacks of sodas and juice I'd made earlier, squeezed strawberry icing on a cupcake I'd made, and adjusted the temperature on the stoves as they heated our food. I was tying my hair up, my back to the counter, tapping my foot rhythmically to a song only I knew and would tell no one--insert cheesy evil laugh I was still working on here--when someone rung the bell-thing we had for customers.

I spun around on my heel, tightening the tie and dropping my hands to the counter loudly, lazily. Across the countertop was a boy I greatly disliked...hated...from class; we fought every day at school. His skin was just a little darker, very slight difference, than mine and his hair was messy and a dark gray color. His eyes were so very beautiful. I didn't care who he was, how much I hated him, who anyone was, those were some beautiful eyes. I'd tell him any day. I sometimes did, during class, and he'd only smile and look at me in amusement and then call me stupid. They were a lovely dark green, so brilliantly awesome, with a gold shine, as if melted in or something. I even looked up descriptive words, bettering my writing, just to tell him something new every other day. He wore a yellow t-shirt, and the rest was hidden by the counter. So, boldly, I leaned over the counter to see what else he wore. Dark blue cargo shorts and faded brown sandals. I nodded, "Huh, will you look at that."

"What?" he asked.

"You're on my beach." We stared at each other for a moment. He, assessing my answer, since it had nothing to do with his clothing. Me, loving the eye color.

"Yes...I...am," he finally said, "And...I'd like some ice cream."

"Sure, thing," I drawled, turning and grabbing a glass bowl. I scooped in some chocolate and vanilla, going by memory. He always asked for ice cream, in the same flavors. I squeezed some strawberry syrup, and then chocolate syrup. I sprinkled it with chocolate chips and stuck a spoon in. I grabbed two napkins, one to hold the cold bowl, and another for him to clean his face when he was done. "There you go." I set it down on the counter and smiled as pleasantly as I could, despite my urge to punch his face.

He handed me the money and watched as I put it into the cash register. "I'm gonna rob this place one day, you know that?"

"That's nice," I said vaguely, pushing it shut and listening for the familiar click of the register's lock, and then leaned back on my heels, my hands gripping the edge of the countertop. I looked at him expectantly.

His expression quickly turned to annoyance as the silence drew on. "You're ugly."

"You're face," I yawned. "Now, go on and enjoy that there sundae, 'fore it gets all liquidy and such." He rolled his eyes and left.

Yep, those were some beautiful eyes he had there. Shame they were his, though.


~~*~~


The night before we both turned twelve, just ten minutes 'till midnight, my twin and I snuck onto the roof of our house. We lived by the ocean, just a few minutes from our little shop, and it was on a cliffside we resided. Dangerous, yes, but the view was incredible. And, in the light of the moon, the water seemed to glisten like a work of art. I unrolled the red plaid blanket I was carrying and layed it over the spot he wanted to sit at. He quickly placed our things on there, so as to stop the wind from whisking away our blanket. Our books; mine, of animals and plants and space and far away cities; his, of science and buildings and dinosaurs and fossils. A small wooden picnic basket that held our favorite snacks; mine, a chocolate pudding cup, six orange slices, ten grapes, five strawberries, and a turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomatoe; his, an apple sauce cup, six apple slices, ten cherries, five blueberries, and a chicken sandwich with pickles and cheese. I had wrinkled my nose at his choice of food but otherwise said nothing.

We sat and stared out at the sky. This was the only time we had to remember how our year had played out. We'd done this since we were five. We'd sit in a quiet place and just remember. From our last birthdays to that very night, and then eat our most favorite snacks, read our most favorite books, to show that, although we were growing older and older every day, every year, and we were growing taller and taller, we never changed on the inside. I was still Hana and he was still Jacob.

I devoured my pudding cup, and he his apple sauce. I sucked at the juice of the orange slices, as he nibbled at his apple slices. I popped in my grapes; he ate around the cores of his cherries. I plucked off the tops of the strawberries and ate them slowly, and he carefully ate his blueberries. I ate my sandwich like there was no tomorrow, and he did the same. I read to him about blackholes and white dwarfs and asteroids; he read to me about t-rexes and triceratops and pterodactyls. We shared laughs and smiles and took in the sights before us with child-like awe. And we fell asleep there, together, our left hands just a hair's breadth from touching.


~~*~~


I felt cold. And yet not. It was an odd feeling that I didn't know whether I wanted to continue or stop. Curiously, I opened my eyes...and very nearly screamed. Had it not been for the water all around me, I just might would have. I was surrounded by cystal clear water, all around. Immersed in it. My haired curled and waved slowly all around me, my only hint. I held my breath and then pushed upwards, toward the surface. But it was getting further and further away, and I was getting desperate. Running out of breath, but never out of energy, I worked to get myself to safety...and got nowhere. I let go, and sucked in what I knew was water..and got air. Confusion, and then fear. How'd I get here?

"Hana," a beautiful, melodious female voice rang through the water, a vibration I more felt than heard. "You are Hana." The voice was relieved. The happiness it seemed to feel was almost too much, and I flinched.

"Where are you?" I demanded, quite rudely, now that I thought about it.

"What do you mean? Why, I'm right beside you," she said gently. I looked over, but only saw water.

"Don't play games with me, lady, I'm not in a very good mood." It was closest to the truth I'd been to in a long time.

"I assure you, my dear child," she murmured lightly, her voice was closer, in my ear now, "I play no games. I am merely answering your questions."

"Then where are you?" I hissed.

"I am...all around you." The water seemed to glow now, and I squinted, lifting my hands to cover my eyes. It dimmed almost instantly. "Do forgive me," she pleaded, "I do believe I'd forgotten just how fragile my precious little creations were." I felt something warm touch my left cheek tenderly, motherly. "But, I suppose that is the price of beauty," she said. I twisted away, shooting glares all around.

"What are you?" She was all around me. That wasn't possible. ...Was it?

"I am the Mother of all that Lives, Mother Nature, Goddess of Water." I froze. The Goddess of Water. I had speaking to the Goddess of Water. I was inside the Goddess of Water. I gulped. A lovely laugh filled my ears and warmed my insides. "Oh, no, my dear child! Do not fear me! I do not punish!"

I relaxed a little. "Then why...?" I trailed off, knowing she'd get what I meant.

I felt that warmth on my cheek again. "It's been far too long..." she murmured wistfully, "since I've walked amongst my children. I long to feel and see their happiness again. But to do that I need someone to assist me."

"So you chose me? To help you get to our world?" I guessed.

"I need to, regretfully, inhabit that body of yours." I could finally pinpoint were she was; the water was getting lower, and my feet touched the ground, surprisingly solid, and could see a white figure before, shaping out into something humanesque and fluttery, tall and slender, leaning down toward me, reaching toward me. I couldn't move.

"W-what?" I stuttered.

"I need to become one with you, my dear, sweet, Hana, and finally see my children." Warmth, upon my cheeks as she cupped my face. A body, a woman's body, voluptuous and pale, wrapped in beautiful silk of white and sky blues. Her hair, long enough to brush the floor that was now marble in place of sand, and curly and a lovely blonde. Her eyes, wide and warm and kind and loving and caring, a pretty peach color that sparkled almost pink in the blinding white all around. Her face, a work of art that left me speechless, breathless, brainless. "I chose you, Hana, because you had all of the qualities I seeked in my host. A heart of gold, an intelligent mind, a witty humor, a lovely personality, a sympathetic soul, an old soul. You."

"I..." I didn't understand. I wasn't meant to do anything besides run a crummy shop 'till I was too old to think. Not carry around the Goddess of Water. "I don't--"

She shushed me, placing a long slender finger against my lips, and then moving that hand to stroke my hair. "All will be perfectly clear soon," she reassured.

"Where am I? How did I get here?" I asked in a whisper in her tender embrace.

"I was glad you chose a place so close to water," she murmured. "This influence will work to your advantage."

"But--"

"Your brother, such a sweet little thing. He will no longer know the pain of isolation."

That silenced me. She'd help my brother overcome his insecurites. "Thank you," I whispered.

"No, Hana, thank you for bringing this to my attention." She pulled away slowly. The grace in which she moved amazed me, and so I didn't feel when the water began to rise again, until it was at waist-level. I glanced down uneasily, but she brought my face back up to look at her. I only saw her lips, curving into a gentle, mother-like smile. They were getting closer, until, finally, they were but centimeter from my own. And then, warmth, coursing through my whole body. I was blind, but I didn't care, because I had never felt this much warmth, this much security. The sense of safety, of knowing nothing could hurt me, was exhilarating. And then I was lost to the feeling.


~~*~~


"Oh no! Hana! Hana!" Shouts. So vague. Far, far away... Like those cities in those books I liked so much. I wanted to visit them...so bad... "Hana! Please, answer me!" Blockage. A burning heat, that made me tremble, against my lips. And then, a gust of air in my lungs. The heat gone, a plead frozen in my mouth for it to come back. An insistent pressure against my chest, pushing, pushing, pushing, gone. The heat back, more air. Pressure, pressure, pressure... "Hana, please..." The heat was back, but stayed, giving me air desperately, and then a sudden impulse to cough. I heaved and then sat up, the heat gone again as I coughed out water and sand. It was dark, the moon shining happily up above, stars scattered about, twinkling. I was on sand, my sand from my beach, water crashing onto shore a few feet away. I was in my pale pink pajama dress, my black furry slipper with pink bows on my feet, wet. My hair stuck to my skin, as did my clothing. I was dripping from head to toe, and I trembled as a breeze passed by. "Hana!" someone exclaimed in relief.

I looked up and over to see my brother at my left side, his eyebrows furrowed. As soon as I met his eyes, he threw his arms around me. "What happened?" I asked, groggy, my voice thick.

"You fell into the ocean from you roof," another voice explained. I looked over to see the-boy-I-disliked-from-class sitting on my other side. He stared at my emotionlessly. I noticed with confusion that he was wet, too, and, though the rest of his face was dry from the wind passing though here regularly, there was a wetness on and around his lips, and sand on his chin. I instinctively wiped my cheek; sand stuck to the skin of my palm. Had he...saved me? But why? He hated me, too. And why was he here? He didn't live anywhere near here...I think... "You were asleep. Or, at least, that's what your twin said."

"Why are you here?" I asked. His eyes narrowed--those beautiful eyes, glowing in the moonlight, more green than gold now--and he stood up.

"I was in the neighborhood and saw you fall. And I rescued you." He turned his back to me. "You're welcome."

"You were in the neighborhood at midnight?" I asked. Silence dragged on.

"What's going on out here?" We froze. That was the voice of authority. Mom. She walked toward us from our hillside house. She was beautiful. I so very much hoped I would look like her when I grew up. She was tall and slender, with a curvaceous body. Her hair long, dark, and beautiful. Her eyes wide and wise, kind and knowing, a clear brown. Her lips full and a deep pink. She made anything look good. Even those blue plaid pajama pants and large white t-shirt, her hair pulled up into a messy bun that was already loosening. She wore white socks and looked very worried. The-boy-I-disliked-from-class sat down in front of me, hiding me from sight as if that would buy us more time to just sit here and stare at her like deers caught in headlights. She stopped when she saw both me and him, dripping from heads to toes. "What happened?" she demanded, kneeling to feel us. Dad came out--tall and muscular and tough, with short black hair and our blue eyes--and looked us over with precise movements. He asked questions, we answered. What happened? Hana fell off the roof and into the ocean below--he sucked in a breath at this but remained otherwise unfazed. Why had we been on the roof? It was our birthday. What was this boy doing here? He saved Hana--which cancelled out any rational doubts in my dad's book.

My mom took the boys upstairs when we got home, while my dad sat me in a chair, wrapped up tight in a blanket. "What happened?"

Knowing what he meant and that he didn't like funny business in situations like these, I said, "I was visited by the Goddess of Water."

Another sucked in breath, this time by my mom who had just walked in. She held onto dad's arm and placed a hand over her heart. "What did she say? Did she save you?"

"Ah," I said, struggling to remember. "Something about longing to see her children again, I think."

Silence. I looked up but only saw my father's chest as he wrapped an arm around me and lifted me up. He took me to my room. Mom ran a warm bubble bath, dad, after helping out of my clothes, helped me in. They left, mom promising to have them washed and dried by the time I was done. I knew what came next. A small arguement and then an agreement. There was no such thing as disagreement between mom and dad. They were both evenly matched in brains, so they were rational together. But, despite the sound of bustling clothing in a washer, I could hear.

"She's in there," mom said.

"I know," dad replied.

"Do you think she realizes...?"

"No."

"Poor thing. To have someone else controlling your body like that."

"I don't think that's the case here, Arlene."

"..."

"Arlene--"

"Then what do you suppse this is. Not just another being residing within our little girl I presume?"

"The Goddess isn't another being anymore, Arlene."

"What do you mean?"

"Hana is the Goddess of Water."