If I Dreamed- Excerpt

For the last long (long, long) while, I've been working on a novel. It all started with my warped fascination with Stockholm Syndrome and the relationships formed out of it. I also wanted to take a stab at fantasy. I'm finding that it hardly qualifies as fantasy anymore, though. Other than the fact that it takes place in a non-existant world and features an oracle as a minor character, there is a great lacking of fantastical elements.
Anyways, I thought I'd post an excerpt from the novel in progress.




She was dying. Her mouth tasted of ashes, the world was grey. Where there had once been light, there was only darkness. She had never felt the icy chill of death, but she knew this was it. This was all there was. She was dying.

Lacey lay herself down against the fine linen sheets, her eyes, like the darkest of nights, stared up at the roof. There were 328 wood panels covering the roof held up by 32 rafters and 416 knots that could be seen. There could be more under the rafters, she idly wondered how many there might be. She had confirmed this number thirty-four times. The first few attempts she had counted different numbers, but she had become talented at this odd game she had created. It was how she passed the time now.

Sometimes she pulled herself up from the bed, but the pain often made her think twice. When ever she needed the reassurance that she was still alive, she would sit up, throw her legs over the edge of the bed and stare out the window, out into the villa’s courtyard. Sometimes she went out into the garden and sat in the sun. She would sit and tilt her head back, gazing into the sun feeling it scorch her eyes. She would stare until her body gave her no other option than to blink. And then she would sit and feel the warm caress of the sun on her skin. She had darkened during her time in Ehsias. Not considerably, but if she were to go home, she would be a pariah among the alabaster skinned nobles of Adronus.

Slowly, she sat up from the bed, untangled herself from the sheets and examined the small bruises covering her body. They were scattered across her body, slight and pale compared to her darkened skin. In her first year in Ehsias, the bruises were anomalous against her white skin. They blended better now. Her body had learned to adapt. It had been two years since her arrival in this odd country, so far from home. She had learned to change her ways. What made him happy, what didn’t. What not to do, things she couldn’t say. Little tricks, but it all helped. It was worth it in the morning, when the bright sun filtered through the cotton curtains, when she could move. It was worth it to wake and be able to dress in the morning. She had learned so much over the years. How to smile when all you wanted to do was cry and scream. How to live when all you wanted was to die.

Sometimes, she forgot why she was in this place. She would wake and think she was a young child, still in her bed, safe in Adronus. When the body beside her shifted she would remember-- sometimes. Every so often she would lay still in fear, and when she remember the tears would roll down her cheeks and soak into the pillow. He would wake, lean over her and stare into her eyes. His black pools staring into hers, an odd sense of confusion swimming in his eyes. He didn’t understand. And that would make her cry harder. So she would hold him to her, cling him to her breast until she had finished. When the heaving sobs finally subsided he would caress her head like a master would stroke a pet he held a certain fondness for. He had never understood and he never would.


She draped the linen wrap around her body, tying the band around her waist and frowning. There was so much more extra material than there once had been. She wrapped it twice for good measure and stared into the mirror. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, winding down and tangling with the cloth. It had lost the volume it once had. She had once had a full head of voluptuous curls. They had died. Now they hung, sad and lifeless like slick ink spills. She wanted it to cut it, she hated it. She wanted to chop it all off and stomp on the excess. She stood before the mirror and fingered the tresses. It would be so easy. Surely there was a blade somewhere in this room. She could just slit it all off. So easy.

“What are you doing?” She didn’t jump, she didn’t even start. Her reflection captivated her. Her dark eyes were sunken in, surrounded by the waxy, dark pigment that normally came with illness and lack of sleep. She didn’t know which one it was.

Lacey turned and faced the man standing behind her. So many emotions raced through her when she saw him. His black eyes stared out at her with that blank glare that always accompanied his stare. She idly wondered how eyes so impassive could be so piercing.

“Thinking. I think I’m falling ill.”

Arius frowned. “Do you feel ill?”

Lacey turned back to the mirror and examined her reflection. For one shocking second, she didn’t recognize the figure staring back at her.

“Do I look like me?” She watched Arius’ reflection in the mirror. An odd glimmer of concern flitted across his face.

“What are you asking?” Lacey continued to stare at her reflection. It was her again, but she was sure that it hadn’t been her seconds ago. It had been someone else, a corpse.

“When you look at me, do you see me, or do you see someone else? Sometimes I don’t think I look like me. I think I’m someone else sometimes.” He was staring at her, his eyes thinning into slits, his jaw tightening. That look of concern was back, he seemed strangely frightened.

“You’re not making any sense. Why would you be someone else?” Lacey shook her head and smiled into the mirror, meeting Arius’ eyes.

“Nothing. It’s not important.” She turned to face him. “How was your training? You left early this morning.”

He nodded slowly, seeming to be reluctant to drop the subject, though at the same time glad to avoid what could turn into a weighty conversation.

“It was good. But I am tired now.” Lacey smiled and reached forwards to help him remove the linen drapery on his shoulders.

“Of course you are. It has been a long day for you. You have been up much longer than I have.” She stepped close to him and pressed her body against his, leaning her head into his chest, listening to the deep beating of his heart.

“Why do you do that?” When ever the emotion became too much she listed to his heart. It reminded her that he was human.

“Because, you’re like me.” She placed his hand against her chest. “They beat the same, see?”

Arius pulled his hand away, but she left her head where it was, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

He made her feel alive, it was only when he was gone that she felt dead. He made her feel so many things. She felt hatred, loathing, execration, so many words could define her feelings. And yet, there was an odd fondness, she needed him like she needed air. Like she needed to feel the sun against her face. She hated herself for it. She hated him for it. She loved him for it.

“Come to bed, you should rest. Tomorrow you will go to war.”

She was dying. There was no doubt of it.

Today, We Are the Heavens- WIP

I was recently given the challenge of writing a short romance story. I've never really tried to write romance, the closest I've ever come was about Stockholm Syndrome (a novel in the works). Needless to say, this truly has been a challenge. I've abandoned three stories--which I do hope to one day come back to--and drank several liters of Pepsi in an attempt to stay awake to the wee hours of the morning, but I think I finally have something.

I have a certain fascination with unrequited love. I don't know why. I have an even stronger fascination for stories about whirlwind love stories that fall apart in the end. I think it's my love for horrible, horrible angst.

I only have about 500 words done of the 1,500 word story, but I'm enjoying where it's going this time. Hopefully this keeps up.

If there had ever been a day where the sun shone so beautifully, Isaac had never seen it. He would remember a day like this, it would be imprinted in his mind until he drew his dying breath. Slowly, he drew his hand across the lush grass, bringing his hand up until it brushed the long tendrils of auburn hair. He glanced to his side, taking in the profile of the young woman lying beside him. Her eyes were closed against the onslaught of the sun’s rays, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in the fresh air.

“Come with me.” She had spoken so quietly that Isaac had nearly missed it. A whisper into the wind. He wondered if she had even intended to say it aloud.

“Sam,” he sighed into the deep blue sky, his eyes closed as he drew a deep breath.

“Come with me,” she repeated, slowly as if afraid he would miss a single word.

“Sam,” as he spoke it, Isaac realised he hardly knew what he had intended.

“I can’t stand it here and I know you can’t either. I need to leave, Isaac.” Isaac rolled to stare into the deep blue of her eyes, so alit with a passionate fire that he felt himself cringing away. “What’s holding you back?” Isaac closed his eyes. “What good are we even doing here, Isaac?”

“My mother,” he whispered.

“She’s not even there anymore. I don’t know what’s left, but it’s not her. She doesn’t…” Sam paused as though searching for the right words to phrase something that should never be said. “She doesn’t even know when you’re in the room.” She paused again and leaned forwards. “And your father? He’s too drunk to even notice when you’re in the house.”

“I know.”

“So,” she breathed, bringing her hand up to curl around his. “Why not?”

“School.” He paused, opening his eyes once again to stare into that great, open sky. “Graduation is in two months.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want to get out. I want to see the world.”

“Sam, please.” Please, save me. Please, take me away from here. Please, please, leave me alone. “Why me?”

“I need you.” He grasped her hand with his own. She wanted a friend.

And that was all.