young adult – three good words

March 21, 2016

to a young(er) friend

ok, let’s talk about it
that thing that disturbs so many

oh god, not again
#sigh #rollseyes
though somewhere I read that
porn has become the new sex-ed

um, what?

i don’t even know what to think of that
where to start where to end
and, oh, the visuals
endless, endless
sunk deep into the web

which makes things so difficult
when the deed is actually to be done
because intercourse
depends on one thing a screen can’t provide
(not that people don’t try…)

bodies.
real bodies. alive.
living, breathing
actual people
humans
with skin and hands and mouths
personal scents and personal sounds.

touch. feeling.
such small words
doors to so many worlds.

#obvious I know
but think about it

a person’s presence
cannot be fast-forwarded
freeze-framed
clicked away
edited
photoshopped
or otherwise modified

not to mention their preferences
their pasts and presents
their hopes for the future
in unknown beds

that one moment in their lives
that can outlast all others for
hours, days
years on end
it all depends

on what actually happened.

there are infinite variations
like flowers and bees
and all the other species on the planet.
so let’s talk about it
that thing that disturbs so many

y’know
what needed to happen
for you to be here in the first place :D

oh my god TMI!!!

December 15, 2014May 16, 2020

‘Run,’ she said. ‘Run, Lucrese, run!’ And Lucrese picked up her skirts and ran, ran into the dark that rose high into the night, the forest with its welcoming trees, ran and ran and ran, hearing the screams behind her, the shadows flickering high before her, the torches so ominous with their blue flames. The Royal Line had found them, the Auditors had come. Lucrese ran behind a wide tree trunk, stopped and turned around. Yes, they had come. Their blue torches flaming high, dragging Mother, Father, William, Thea, even young Merla, dragging them to the eastern wall. She could hear the clank of chains, she could see how the hooks were lowered. One Auditor, covered entirely in black, unrolled a scroll and was reading aloud, proclaiming the treason her family had been found guilty of, ‘fraternizing with the blood enemy’, ‘engaging with Enchanters’ and ‘soliciting Sangín’. But Lucrese knew this was all lies. All Father did was invite one of the Selda to speak of what potions were possible to heal the Curse. And the Sangín, they had lived peacefully side by side for generations. Even her great-grandmother knew of no strife between them. Yet the Auditors were here, dressed in that ominous lightswallowing black, reading out the crimes Father and Mother apparently committed. Lucrese knew she should run further into the forest, hide deeper, never be seen, but she could not leave. She had to see, to know, to understand just what was being done to her family even though she knew what would happen now, she knew, she knew, she could hear Mother’s cries and Father’s furious shouting, for he knew he had done no wrong, no wrong at all.

And so Lucrese stood and watched as her mother, her father, her brother and sisters were chained to the eastern wall of their homestead, how the first Auditor declared they were to be executed in the name of the Law for high treason against their blood and kin, for Lucrese knew the Royal Line saw itself as the Lords and Kings of all Nightwalkers. And so she stood and waited in horror, tears filling her eyes, for in greatest despair even a Nightwalker could cry. And she stood and waited and watched as the sun began to rise, the shadows falling, falling, burning so slowly, such agony, wisps of smoke rising from her parent’s heads, Mother cried, Father cursed and the children stared up in horror at the encroaching sun, screaming for their dear lives. Lucrese stood and watched and saw the Auditors take out long dark oblongs that they raised high – a tug, a blinding light, and sunlight flashed hotly off the mirrors. Lucrese ducked in time. Slowly she raised herself, careful to stay in the dark, the only place where she could see beyond the shadows into the light. And there, right there, lined up against the eastern wall of their homestead, were five heaps of ashes, smoking in the sun.

* * *

Cornwall, 2010

10 days to Winter Solstice
203^rd year

Finally, some time to write and think. It’s done now, the Whelp is in the cellars, watered and fed, thought Mr Gellers down the road’s starting to give me weird looks. We might have to change our supplier.

Anyway, now, finally, I can actually sit down and just – I wish I could shout and scream and box Gav’s ears for his unbelievable stupidity. I told him it was an idiotic thing to do, but oh no, Mr Gavin C. Destrian himself had to show them the Sangín are real. I keep on telling him: the Aveugle are silly people. They only believe what they can touch and feel, what their little eyes can see. And even then they’ll start arguing. But no, Gav had to show them. He apparently was sick and tired of this talk as if our world doesn’t exist. I told him to be patient. A hundred years ago, that Potter woman would have been put behind bars for sorcery. Not to mention what would have happened during The Dark. Small steps, I said, you need to give them time. They’ll get to it, surely. Maybe in three generations to come, but it’s not like we can’t wait. Two hundred three and everyone still thinks I’m a teen. Mum’s stopped arguing, they think we’re sisters, and as for Gav. Well, I told him. I told him, don’t do it. The Sangín around here are not safe, they like to terrify people, Aveugle especially. But oh no. And now we have an Aveugle in the house, and she’s genuinely Bitten.

She’s very shocked. Spent the first week crying – when she wasn’t trying to rip our throats out . That Containing Spell Gran found in Romania back in 17-whatever really works. Probably even a full grown Sangín couldn’t break it, not that I’d ever try it out, unless I absolutely had to. I do feel sorry for her though, young Mel. Annabelle Lowry, but everyone call’s her Mel. And she didn’t even want to go, Gavin coaxed her to – probably why he feels like a stinking heap of dragon dung right now. I told him. The Sangín here are Not. Safe. But oh no. He knew better. They had to know. And now young Mel’s in our cellar so that she won’t rip out our throats by the merest irritation.

I think that’s the hardest part, acquiring unbreakable self control in so short a time. Never getting provoked. Holding yourself together to the very end. Until even the very last chain burst and suddenly you have a full grown werewolf on your hands. I told him. I really told him. Gav’s an Apprentice, he could never have kept the Containing Spell up so long. I told him. Even Mum told him, and Mum usually lets him get away with everything. Mum’s been awfully quiet actually. She hardly speaks to him, she just brews the potion and cuts the meat so that the poor thing won’t choke. She says nothing. A lot of nothing. A whole bookshelf and library full of nothing. I think it’s driving Gav mad. If Mum’d at least shout and scream, even curse him, I think he’d be relieved, but Mum doesn’t say anything.

It’s very hard for her though, young Mel. I can only imagine how it’s like, understanding that from now on, she’s one of the Sangín. It’s why I’ve been so busy. Mum’s been making me write letters to the Elders, and when I’m not writing, I’m making introductions all round. I’ve been up and down the Five Clans just to make sure nobody starts a war over this. Mum insisted I take Gav with me, I didn’t think it was wise, you never know how Nightwalkers might react to this, but they’ve been very civil, considering. Granted, Gav doesn’t say a word. He just stands there and lets them shout at him. At least they understand it’s done now, and the Elders are going to contact the Aveugle. Young Mel’s parents have already contacted their police. Gav and all his Aveugle friends lied very well, saying Mel got lost while they ran to the jeep. They’ve sent search parties into the woods, naturally they found nothing, Mum already went back and cleaned up the blood, you can’t have the parents terrified. Sensitive as Mel is now, she’ll feel her family’s fear and she’s already nervous enough. Nerves of steel is what a Sangín needs, at least that’s what Arrag says. He still comes to see me, brings me the paste once a week. The scars will remain, but they’ve healed. At least my clothes cover the most of it, though I can’t do low necklines any more. A pity, but I guess that is a small price for being alive at all.

7 Days to Winter Solstice
203^rd year

Gran’s in France again, someone’s broken into another vault. Tynne Edvan came to ask her to join the Déblay. Why do they always do this? How can anyone be so insane? The Royal Line has died out, they cannot be resurrected, and thank all the Stars, Gods and Spirits for that. Who would want them back? They’d never tolerate the Balance and then it would be like the Old Days and Arrag could never come and give me the paste. Tuilen and Janic would not be allowed to live together, in fact, they’d probably execute Tuilen for blood treason. Not to mention everyone else. Lucius. Meredith. Gwendolynn. Cedric and the John brothers. Leonid and Katelyn. They’d basically have to go into hiding. A Sangín and an Enchanter, united? The Royals would burn their house down with all of them inside by the mere mention. Every Sangín would get the silver cup, every Nightwalker in the Five Clans would be sunlit, and we Enchanters would be on the run again, forever escaping the Auditors who saw nothing in us than slaves. I don’t know why anyone would want the Royal Line back, no one would ever be able to live in peace again. Who are these madmen?

Anyway, young Mel is doing a little better now. Arrag already came to call, he was with Braig this time so we could not talk. Mum did the formalities, and she went down with Braig to see young Mel. It was awkward, standing in the parlour alone with Arrag. It’s been twenty years now. He still will not look me in the eye. If I touch him, he flinches. He barely accepted the drink I offered. I don’t know how many times I’ve told him that I know he was provoked. I know it. Everyone knows it. And back then I would have said the vows but he would not. He does not trust himself anymore. Even if I knew to brew the potion, maybe one night he might forget to drink it, and then what? Until that night he was convinced it would work, but after… may the Gods curse me, but if ever I see Alda and Ivan again, I will load my soulmaker with all the silver bullets I can get and send them back to the dark pits they belong to. Arrag was the best of them all and they just – broke him. Just like that. The Royal Line would have been so proud of them.

Anyway. Mum said Braig was satisfied. He will send Leonid to come after Winter Solstice to help. The Lupena have already been contacted, they will take Mel into the Fold once she is used to the bloodlust and knows how to control it. None of us want another Gerem – Gods, what a disaster. Ten Aveugle dead, and the 11^th so mauled they had to be merciful and let him pass as well. At least the Elders could convince the Aveugle officials that he was killed in self defence. The first time in decades that all Sangín-Clans joined together and went on a Hunt. They must have known the fault was entirely theirs. To let a Bitten Aveugle join the Fold without any safety valves… madness.

It’ll be another full moon tomorrow by the way, Gav’s already nervous. Last time young Mel mauled two cats and a dog. Had to bury them quick and explain the neighbours there’s been a very careless car-driver about. Gav is not happy. He said, ‘She was the nice one.’ Well, all I can say is that we Enchanters can’t have enough nice Sangín around.

July 28, 2014June 16, 2020

Caden

When the other kids asked Caden Tellis about his past, the first word that came to mind was ‘volatile’ followed closely by ‘violent’, both accompanied by an image: the man they called his father standing over him, red with rage, raising his fist to strike. The pain had long since subsided, but the impact, that crash of knuckle and bone into his body, that stayed. For the first years after he ran away just seeing a fist fight on the school grounds made him feel it again. Caden was known to be quiet, both in his old as well as his new school. Claremont Comprehensive was in the better part of town, up in the hills where the big houses with the two garages were, where there was grass and trees in the backyard and you could ride your bike in the streets without being run over. Until he ran away, Caden had only seen such houses on TV. But then he packed his backpack with crisps, a few bottles of something orange, a jumper, his favourite comic books and the picture of his mother, and slipped out the back while the man they said was his father was snoring in front of the TV.

What exactly triggered the impulse to run away, Caden could no longer say. He remembered thinking that it was his ninth birthday, and that the next year would be his tenth, which meant that he had lived ten years under the same roof with that violent drunk everyone said was his father. Maybe it was that. In any case, he packed his things and left. He had taken up what money he still had left from Aunt Vicky, the money that the man who said had sired him hadn’t taken from him, and with that Caden was able to get on a train and reach the biggest city he knew. He wanted to go to the top of the highest building and see how it was to be a bird. And he did see how it was, it was breathtaking. When he came back down the constable was waiting. He had gone missing for three days and Aunt Vicky had filed a search. While waiting for Aunt Vicky to pick him up a doctor asked him to sit on a bench in a quiet room and he was asked to remove his shirt. Caden still remembered the look on the doctor’s face, it had been calm at first and suddenly turned very serious. He touched the sore spots gently, asking Caden where it hurt, and if he felt any stinging. Caden answered and the doctor asked him to remain very still, he would be right back. An officer was called who looked as serious as the doctor and then the officer brought someone else in who took pictures of Caden and all the sore spots. Once that was done and more questions were asked and answered, Caden watched while the doctor bandaged him. He counted five bandages next to the wide strip around his chest.

Since it would take a day until Aunt Vicky arrived, Caden was taken to the doctor’s sister’s family, a Mrs Corrigan. They lived up in the hills in one of those big houses with the two garages and the large garden in the back. Mrs Corrigan did charity work, which meant she collected money for poor people. Mr Corrigan was an architect. They had two children, Matthew and Stephanie. Matthew was only a few months older than Caden, and Stephanie two years younger than both. They looked at him with wide eyes. Caden felt like an animal in a zoo. He had been once, no twice, with Aunt Vicky. Caden sat uncomfortably on a chair in the parlour, while Dr Martin explained ‘the circumstances’ to his sister. She said she would be glad to help, Caden could stay the night. So Caden stayed with the Corrigans, ate at their oval dinner table, tasting food he had never eaten before, eating with real forks and knives and drinking out of glasses made out of real glass, always aware of Matthew and Stephanie watching him.

Caden didn’t remember much more of that first dinner with the Corrigans. After dinner there was the bath Mrs Corrigan made him take, wincing herself every time she removed the bandages, shaking her head and murmuring, calling to Mr Corrigan (she called him Fred) so he could see ‘what had happened to the poor boy’. To Caden’s embarrassment Matthew and Stephanie came along and saw him half naked on the closed toilet, though they said nothing and Stephanie even gasped. Mr Corrigan moved them out of the bathroom, closed the door and knelt down next to Caden asking him if he was feeling any pain. Caden answered that after Dr Martin gave him two pills the stinging left. Mr and Mrs Corrigan exchanged a look, a look Caden would come to recognize in later years, and then Mr and Mrs Corrigan got to their feet. Mr Corrigan said something to Mrs Corrigan that Caden couldn’t hear. He took a bath then and Mrs Corrigan was nice enough to look away when he was naked, Caden hated it when Aunt Vicky would never leave the bathroom while he was in the tub.

After the bath he was given one of Matthew’s pyjamas and allowed to sleep in the guest-bedroom. The bed was enormous and the mattress heavenly, not to mention the covers and the pillows. Caden had never slept in such a bed. Mrs Corrigan brought him chocolate chip cookies, the American ones, and warm milk, even though he had already brushed his teeth. Then she asked him if he would like her to read a story. Since Mrs Corrigan had been so nice to him, though he was certain she had no stories he would like, he just shrugged which Mrs Corrigan took as a yes. She asked if he knew The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and Caden nodded, they’d had one of the teachers read a few chapters to them in school. Did they get to the end? No, the Pevensies were still with the Beavers. So Mrs Corrigan left the room and brought back the book and read on from where Caden’s teacher had left off. He finished his milk and cookies while he listened, Mrs Corrigan could read as good as a teacher. Caden didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he had a very nice dream of sleeping in a cave and waking up at the North Pole where he helped the Christmas Elves pack up the presents, though the presents themselves were odd, enormous toffees, tires the size of houses or a very, very small cavalry and a settlement of Red Indians. They were all alive, and you had to keep them apart otherwise they kept on fighting.

The next day, Caden was brought back to the police and Dr Martin, where Aunt Vicky was already waiting arguing very loudly with a large black woman Caden later found out was Mrs Julian. She worked for The City. She was the one who took care that children in orphanages found parents, or if parents weren’t good parents, then the children got new ones. Caden came to like Mrs Julian, she didn’t make a big fuss about things. That day however, she was shouting with Aunt Vicky, though the shouting stopped the moment Aunt Vicky saw him. She knelt down and spread her arms and Caden, seeing everyone was watching, went and let her hug him, though she still smelled of too much perfume. She asked how he was doing and if he had had a nice stay and said he’d been a very naughty boy for running away like that, which made Mrs Julian huff, ‘From what I see, that boy had all the sense to run away,’ which made Aunt Vicky angry. After some more shouting, Mrs Julian asked Caden to come to her, which he did, Mrs Julian wasn’t someone you wanted to say no to. Mrs Julian lifted his shirt and showed Aunt Vicky the bandaged sore spots. Mrs Corrigan could have been a doctor for the way she dressed the spots after his bath.

Aunt Vicky didn’t really understand until Dr Martin gave her the pictures. She looked very shocked. She started crying. Someone gave her a tissue but it became worse. Mrs Julian looked satisfied. Then Mrs Julian found out that Aunt Vicky was in fact not his aunt but Caden’s mother’s best friend. Since Caden’s mother died she always took care to see after him. She knew Greg, the man who apparently was Caden’s father. She knew he drank too much and had a foul temper but this… ‘If Mary would see this,’ she kept on saying. Mary was Caden’s mother’s name. Then Aunt Vicky asked, ‘Darling, why didn’t you tell me?’ which made Mrs Julian angry again. ‘Tell you? Dear God, are you –’ Caden was sure she wanted to say something rude, but instead Mrs Julian said, ‘In a situation like this children don’t talk. And what should he have told you, Hi Aunt Vicky, Daddy tried to kill me today?’ Caden wondered how Mrs Julian knew. Once he only escaped after kicking him where it really hurt. He ran out into the street and didn’t come back until late at night, but by then the man they said was his father was sitting with someone in front of the TV drinking cans of beer.

Aunt Vicky only cried more. There were more arguments, more shouting, and while Caden waited, sitting on a chair facing the glass window in the door, he saw how Mrs Julian and Aunt Vicky went at each other like bulls, only female bulls, and Mrs Julian was winning. Finally, Mrs Julian came out and Aunt Vicky was sitting on a chair, crying again. There was some more talk Caden didn’t understand except for ‘temporary arrangement’ and that the Corrigans were mentioned as well. The long and short of it was that Caden was brought back to the Corrigans, and what started as a temporary arrangement turned into a final one. By the end of three months’ time, Caden was the Corrigan’s Foster Child. From what Caden heard the man everyone said was his father was arrested and then set free and then arrested again, and this time he had to stay in prison for some time, though not due to Caden. Apparently he had stolen something or hurt somebody, a grown-up this time. Caden didn’t listen carefully, nor did he want to know. It was enough that he would never have to see that man again.