Well, exams are over and what better way to celebrate than by posting a short story I wrote about a month ago. This is part of my ongoing training in efforts to become a better writer through practice and getting more experience. I hope you enjoy reading it!
I am the
crowned prince of our kingdom. I have known war and peace, love and grief, and
all the things life has to offer. Once, for a brief period of time, I was
almost a father as well.
My
own father was distant to me in my life. I saw him as more of a leader than a
father. He was the king and I was the prince. That was the structure of the
kingdom and I was to abide by it at all times.
I
was taught by the finest tutors and educated in warfare should the need arise
for it when I would one day take the throne. I learned of our nation’s own
bloody history and those of our neighbours too. I learned some of the finer
arts too, such as poetry and prose. I also learned, through tutelage and experience,
of the complicated political landscape for a prince and learned just as fully
that I did not like it.
Since
as long as I could remember, I hated the role of being a prince. I hated the
duty and formality of it. I would far rather have been an unwitting farmer than
someone in charge of the well-being of so many.
I
didn’t like the fact that one man could have dominion over so many others. If I
was a different man and chose to abuse my power, none would be able to stop me
– save for my father – under the guise of divine right. That power was more of
a curse than a gift. It was a curse that burdened me with conscience and duty
from such a young age. I felt as though I never had a childhood; that my
responsibilities loomed over me, casting a pall on what would have otherwise
been an enjoyable period in my life.
Still,
as I grew, I eventually decided that I must fit into my role and took my
position somewhat more seriously.
Little
did I know that being a prince would be the least of my concern.
I met Catherine when I was
sixteen. She was a farmer’s daughter. We had contracted her father to deliver
produce to the palace on a monthly basis. Catherine, enamoured by the prospect
of seeing royalty and the chance to revel in the splendor of our palace, begged
to accompany him. Like the unwilling and conflicted prince I was, she made me
feel weak and strong all at once, an all too familiar feeling, but one I had
never felt for a woman before.
That summer had been kind to us.
The weather was agreeable, yielding just enough rain to ensure good harvests,
but supplying us with beautiful sunny days all the same. I loved being outside
and taking in the scenery around the palace.
Our palace was large and ornate.
Inside, the ceilings were high and everything was made of marble, gleaming in
the sunlight during the day or glistening in the moon’s rays at night.
Portraits of previous rulers lined the walls at regular intervals and the
floors were adorned with royal red carpet, kept clean by our myriad servants.
Every main entrance to the palace was supported by pillars, giving way to
elegant arches. The outside was equally impressive with large bushes
surrounding the property, a handful of trees, and a stunning garden complete
with radiant flowers and grand bushes from all over the world.
On one
summer day, I was in those gardens being drilled in swordplay by my keen
instructor, Powell. Powell and I were training my ability to parry blows and
respond with a counter-blow of my own. I had gotten a little overzealous,
over-committing myself to a slicing blow after barely parrying Powell's initial
blow. Powell’s counter to my folly sliced my face, sending my heading jerking
sideways. It was at that moment that Catherine and her father, accompanied by
members of our royal guard, rounded the corner, touring the castle as a precursor
to their first of many visits.
I yelped
and staggered sideways, clutching my face as Catherine’s wandering gaze met my
eyes. “What in the name of the gods are you doing to him?” she screamed,
shifting her gaze onto Powell, fire in her eyes. I later learned that she
thought he was trying to kill me and that she was averse to unnecessary
violence.
Catherine
was a slight woman with fierce eyes and a fair complexion. Her blonde hair fell
straight, hanging at her sides, coming to rest at her shoulders. She had a kind
face and the disposition of a tomboy, having been raised on a farm her whole
life. Her playful spirit and cleverness accented her keen intellect, though ultimately
she was a very peaceful and happy person. She was a person I’d not yet met but
had already frightened.
“Apologies,
my lady,” I began, still clutching my face and walking towards her. She looked
mad with fury and I sought to calm her. “A training exercise gone somewhat
awry, I’m afraid, our pardons for having worried you.”
She looked
both relieved and frustrated at the same time, to the point where I thought she
might hit me herself. Later, I would come to love that passion. Not only was
Catherine passionate but she was caring and sweet as well. For the moment,
however, her mix of emotions was turning into a fiery fury.
“Training…with steel blades? Are you trying to get someone killed?”
“Quite the
opposite, my lady -” I trailed off, not yet knowing her name.
“Catherine,”
she stammered. “Catherine Fougars, of the Fougars farm just south of the
palace.”
“Well met,
my lady Catherine. I assure you we are not trying to kill anyone here. Rather,
we are practicing to ensure that none of us do
get killed,” I said with some amusement and the smallest hint of contempt.
The truth of the matter was that
Catherine was fraying my nerves somewhat. I understood the importance of
training. I understood the importance of knowing how to defend oneself and
thought that a scratch on the face was a small price to pay for a lesson
learned that could one day save my life. Catherine, however, didn’t seem to
understand that and it frustrated me.
I could tell she was taken back
slightly by my flippant comment. Straightening herself and regaining her
composure, she took on a more formal tone, finally discerning my role. “My
apologies, prince, I did not mean to speak out of turn.”
Having never been one to stand on
ceremony, I said, “Please, call me Claude.”
I could feel that she sensed I
wasn’t genuinely angry with her. She smiled and said, “Well met, Claude.”
Several months after first
meeting Catherine we began seeing each other. The romance evolved naturally
over many small visits. We found that we had a certain chemistry; that her
nascent passion mixed freely with my bottled potential. Simply put, the two of
us were compliments, covering for each other’s faults. We revelled in our time
together.
We were
passionate in all the ways of life, including the bed chamber.
One night,
after Catherine and I had gotten closer, I had invited her to a ball to be held
in the palace celebrating the zenith of the moon’s cycle in summer. It was the
most popular event of the summer and I wanted to share it with her. I had so
many fond memories of the event as a child, both for the pleasure derived from
the event itself and the mischief I frequently got into whilst attending it.
The palace
was decorated in its usual splendor but with a few special touches. Draped from
the ceilings were streamers of white and blue color, to signify the moon’s rays
and how they light our life even in darkness. The lights inside were kept dim
and special lamps were imported that shone a blue hue of light through crescent
moon shades. All said, the decorations provided the perfect atmosphere and mood
for fun.
Feeling
particularly sly, I felt wittier than usual and Catherine seemed impressed by
it. I wasn’t sure if it was due to my wit or the fact that I was happier than I
normally would have been, excited for one of my favorite days of the year.
Either way, Catherine seemed particularly amenable to my affections.
Between
dances I took her into a dimly lit corner of the hall.
“Come here,
I want to show you something,” I said. It was the place which I’d launched many
mischievous schemes from as a child; one such scheme involving pelting one of
our most beloved dukes with stink balls launched from that very same dark
corner by slingshot. My father was furious when he found out it was my doing and
restricted my activities for two weeks. Still, the novelty of it was more than
worth it in the end.
“A dark
corner?” she asked curiously.
“Very
astute,” I teased, putting one hand on the small of her back and pushing her up
against a pillar. I drew close to her and could feel her breath quickening,
small bursts blowing on my lips. “Actually, I just couldn’t wait to get you
alone.”
I kissed
her lips gently, teasing her with half-kisses and finally moving to her neck
where I began to kiss her more passionately as I moved to undo her bodice.
“Claude,”
she gasped, seemingly both surprised and aroused. “Claude! Not here. Let’s go
somewhere else.”
I smiled.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
That night
found us in my bedchambers.
Catherine
and I had shared some romantic nights prior but we had never consummated our
relationship. I remember thinking on how that was going to change and about how
excited I was. Nevertheless, I was quite nervous too.
It wasn’t
nervousness for lack of experience. I’d had my fair share of dalliances in the
past. But I’d never made love to someone that I truly cared about and was
somewhat surprised to find out how deeply my affections ran for Catherine. If
all my other relationships were pools of water, this one was a deep, vast lake,
just waiting to be explored, filled with wonders and secrets in its depths.
We hurried
into the room where I abruptly kicked the door shut, startling a maid down the
hall with the loud noise. She let out a small shriek. I didn’t care to
apologize.
Catherine and I set about
undressing each other with furious pace. She undid the buttons of my shirt,
planting light kisses down my neck and chest while doing so. I undid her bodice
and slipped off her dress, my hands moving to firmly clutch her waist as I slid
downwards and kissed her thighs. She pulled me back up towards her and I was
surprised by the force of it. Soon thereafter, she set about undoing by
breeches and finally we were both naked and all too ready for what was to
follow.
And what
was to follow did not disappoint.
It was
furious and it was carnage. It was a hurricane of passion and an unleashing of
pent up emotion. Near the beginning of it she took my phallus into her mouth,
moaning as it entered.
It was beautiful. She was
beautiful.
She kept at it for some time
until I was sure that my seed was ready to burst, at which point she stopped.
It was my turn to return the favour.
I slid backwards on the bed,
parting her legs with my arms when I reached the proper position. I began by
licking her thighs and teasing her entire nether region with heavy, warm
breaths.
“Claude, please,” she begged,
unable to contain herself any longer.
I obliged and set about licking
her opening. She moaned and moaned as her back arched, screaming out when she
reached the first of many climaxes.
Finally – Finally, I pulled our
bodies together and slid my phallus into her, accepting her long open
invitation, smiling and then laughing a little as she gasped.
“Something funny?” she asked,
half out of nervousness and half out of amusement, I supposed.
“You’re just so cute,” I replied.
“I’m laughing because it amuses me to make you happy.”
She placed two hands on my
buttocks, licked her lips, and said, “I know how you can keep me happy.”
“Oh, do you now?” I replied in a
husky voice before thrusting into her once again.
Again and again, thrusting and
thrusting until we both reached our climaxes and screamed aloud at the pleasure
of it.
Gods, it was good!
In the aftermath, we laid
together, content in holding each other and watching the moon slowly sink into
the deep night sky until exhaustion took us. Exhausted and happy, I slept a
dreamless sleep.
Two years later Catherine and I
were expecting child and I was happily married to her. For all purposes,
nothing could have been better. I sometimes tried to think of a time when I was
happier and laughed inwardly when I realized that I couldn’t.
And then it all fell apart.
The day was supposed to be
perfect. It was the date of Catherine’s delivery. I was filled with joy and
nervousness and so many emotions that I didn’t know what to make of them. I
daresay she was too but we were both all smiles.
Catherine began labour in the
early morning, awakening us both in her panic. I called for servants quickly
and in due course she was brought into the birthing chambers of the palace
where nurses and our court physician would attend to her. It was a fitting
location, outfitted with the finest medical instruments available and the
physician was one of the best.
After many hours of labour and time
spent nervously waiting, I was called back into the room by one of my wife’s
attendants. “Sire, it’s time.”
I entered to find Catherine
flushed and screaming, looking more stressed than I had ever seen her.
“Catherine…” I said softly,
feeling sorry for how much pain she was in; how much pain I’d more or less
indirectly put her in. But if that was the cost of love and a child, Catherine
and I would gladly endure it.
“Claude!” she yelled, seemingly
happy to see me despite her condition. “Claude, it’s coming. I can feel it.
She’s coming!”
“She?” I asked, dumbfounded. “How
can you know?”
“I’m not sure. I just do.”
A girl! I was about to have a
baby girl and the thought of it filled me with such joy. A simple nine months
ago I had no idea I would be a father and less of an idea that Catherine was
with child. I never would have said that I felt prepared or even that I was the
best person to be a father, but as I thought about it, I realized that I was
not only prepared for fatherhood, but was relishing the very thought of it.
But suddenly, I saw Catherine’s
face spasm with what looked to be incredible pain; the type of pain that was
surely not due to birthing. Just from looking at her face I could tell it was
something more.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, shocked.
She couldn’t reply. She couldn’t
communicate. She couldn’t even seem to control her movements.
“My lord, please,” a nurse
pleaded with me and I suddenly realized that I was in the way. I moved aside
quickly to try to allow them to work but I dared not stray far. I wanted to see
her through this.
The nurses worked at a frantic
pace, shouting instructions and information to one another. The court
physician, ever-present through the birthing thus far, stepped up slowly and
examined Catherine while the nurses worked. She suddenly stopped moving and the
physician felt for her pulse.
He frowned and turned to face me.
“I’m sorry, sire,” he said with gravity. “She’s gone.”
“What?” I roared, unable to
comprehend what had just occurred. “What do you mean ‘she’s gone?”
The physician stumbled for the
appropriate words. “Sometimes,” he paused, composing himself. “Sometimes it
happens, my lord. Sometimes they are lost during childbirth.”
This couldn’t be happening.
“No. No! No! Why did this happen?
Why?” I roared, in a stupor, unable to contain myself. “The babe! What about
the babe?” I asked, suddenly recovering some of my wits and remembering that
Catherine was about to give birth. “Please tell me the babe survived!”
“I’m sorry, my lord. They were
unable to save her. We were unable to save them.”
Defeated, the words hit me like a
boulder, crushing my world. Not knowing what else to do, I sank to my knees and
wept.
It had been
an entire year since Catherine and my unborn child’s passing. I was hopelessly
depressed and it had dire consequences on the rest of my life.
To begin
with, I was no longer nearly as sociable as I had once been and slowly but surely
began to lead a very insular life. I would confine myself to my quarters and
grieve by writing, trying to find the right words to describe how my life had
fallen apart. Gods willing, I would find the right words to put it back
together too, but they escaped me, as had any positive feelings for a long
while.
In fact, it
seemed that I barely felt anything anymore. I couldn’t bring myself to feel
compassion for our poorer citizens that royalty is charged with helping. I
couldn’t bring myself to smile when the sun came out or when happy children
strolled by, mirthful in playing children’s games. I couldn’t bring myself to
enjoy the way that food tasted. I couldn’t bring myself to be as depressed as
one ordinarily would on a rainy day. I couldn’t bring myself to feel much at
all and it was frustrating me.
It
frustrated me so much that I began to abuse alcohol for the false and temporary
emotions its effects would have on me. At least under its influence I could
laugh and be merry on the outside.
Simply put,
I was deeply depressed.
On one
crisp summer night we celebrated the same festival at which Catherine and I had
first consummated our relationship. The moon hung brightly in the sky. It
seemed even the moon, a body of the night sky, was in bright spirits. And yet,
no matter how hard I tried, I could feel nothing. Content to drink away the
remainder of the night, I assumed a station close to the wine servers and set
about getting very drunk.
It was then
that the most beautiful woman I had ever seen walked into the area in which
wine was served. She was tall, though not quite as tall as I was, and lean. She
had a very feminine but decidedly athletic build. Her tanned skin was clear and
looked as soft as velvet. Her shoulder-length black hair was coifed in
concentric circles, hanging high on her head and held in place by ornate golden
pins. But most of all, her eyes, a deep emerald-like hue caught my attention.
To be sure,
she gleamed like the precious metal that shared its color with her eyes. Those
eyes met mine as she approached. “Prince Claude, is it not?” She asked, clearly
eying me, whilst biting her lip.
The
attention made me nervous and made me think of Catherine. Though she had
passed, it still felt like a betrayal to feel any type of arousal for another
woman, not after I had loved so deeply with Catherine. But this foreign beauty
was making me feel just that. I was both guilty and intrigued at the same time
so I decided that I was going to let the situation play out. A little bit of
fun wouldn’t betray Catherine’s spirit.
“Indeed,” I
replied in cordial tone. “And you are?”
“Jade
Xnaga, a neighbour of yours to the far south,” she replied.
“Ah, that
explains your complexion,” I noted blandly.
“Drinking
alone, my lord?” She asked with genuine curiosity.
“Please
call me Claude. I’ve never been one to stand on ceremony,” I replied, suddenly
not wishing to be so formal. “And yes, I am, as I have many nights before,” I
added, not quite wishing to have her company. But it appeared that Jade had
other plans.
“Would you
care for a companion? I sense you might be in need of one.”
I’m not
sure why I accepted her offer. Maybe there was a part of me that was tired of
being lonely. Maybe there was a part of me that wanted to feel and wondered if
she could help me do just that. Maybe I was bored. Maybe she was bored. It
didn’t matter. There are some things that the gods decide and that we must
accept.
“I think
I’ll take you up on your offer, Jade. Well met,” I responded at length.
That night,
we had goblets upon goblets of wine. To my surprise, Jade could drink as well
as I could and held her liquor equally as well. All the same, we were good and
drunk within an hour’s time.
After much
drunken thought and deliberation I asked, “How can you hold so much liquor?” She
laughed and her face lit up. Such a beautiful thing to behold!
She smiled.
“My people, it would appear, are accomplished alcoholics,” she replied with a
roar of laughter I promptly echoed. The other patrons of the celebration looked
over at us, seemingly both ashamed at my behaviour and intrigued by our foreign
guest at the same time.
After,
there was an awkward silence between us. Finally, feeling quite intoxicated, I
asked her, “Why are you so beautiful?”
“Why are
you so forward?” she asked, half-teasingly. It was my opening and I would not
take it. I couldn’t dishonour Catherine like that.
“Forgive me,
I can’t do this,” I replied, suddenly feeling depressed once again.
“Yes, you
can,” she said, taking my hand and noticing as I tensed.
“You don’t
understand,” I began. “My wife…She passed away last year; her and our unborn
child. So,” I paused, feeling uneasy. “I simply can’t.”
I could see
the flicker of understanding in her eyes and infinite compassion. To my
surprise it moved something within me, easing my tension somewhat. “Come,” she
said, squeezing my hand and dragging me away. “Let us go somewhere private.” Not
knowing what to say, I let her drag me along up the stairs and into a random
bedroom. She pushed me down on the bed and began to undress.
“Please, my
lady. I cannot do this. I don’t mean to offend you,” I protested weakly.
“You
haven’t offended me,” she said in a sweet tone. “And you can do this. As a matter of fact, I think that you should do this
as I feel there may be some healing in it for you.”
Speechless
and confused, I let her continue. Before long she and I were undressed and she
was kissing me tenderly.
I’m still unsure how to describe
it. It wasn’t entirely sexual but it was sensual. She kissed me not only as a
lover would but like some sort of healer as well.
I was very averse to it in the
beginning but soon found that she was right; that there was some healing in it.
Jade did all of the work, imploring me to be still and let the feelings wash
over me. It reminded me of Catherine and the guilt crept up. It was almost as
if Jade sensed this, as every time I felt it, she backed off and let me get
comfortable again.
And so we made love in the
gentlest way I have ever known it, under a glowing moon. I fell asleep holding
her under that same moonlight that shared myself and Catherine’s night years
prior. Only this time, I felt healed and full for the first time since
Catherine had passed.
Jade and I
never married. Neither of us found marriage very practical and thought it would
be dishonorable to Catherine in any sense. We did live together, though, and we
shared a life together.
It had been
two years since I’d met Jade. We saw each other on and off when her country’s
dignitaries would come to visit our country. I discovered that she was a noble
woman herself and in command of some authority. After our first night together,
she had demanded to be on every ambassadorial trip to the palace and none dared
to counter her. She declared that it was for business but it became obvious to
both of us after six months that it was for love. After that, she decided to
move into a house on the outskirts of town with me. I was never one for formalities
and was less willing than I ever had been to fulfill my duties as prince from
the palace.
To my surprise, we had settled
into a routine. Jade would cook us meals with what I fetched from the local
marketplace in the mornings. Sometimes I would hunt for our meals. In the
afternoon we would enjoy each other’s company or sometimes set about to our own
devices. The evenings would come and we would have a romantic dinner for two.
We would make love again and fall asleep watching the stars.
It appeared that the gods did
have a purpose in uniting Jade and I. Jade was right after all: There was
healing in what took place between us that first night. Almost miraculously, a
large measure of it came to me right away and I learned that I could love and
feel once again. The balance of it came afterwards and I’d slowly become whole
over the entire two years since that night.
I still wrote, only less often
and of less depressing matters. I focused now on trying to tell stories and on
writing poetry. I wasn’t very good but it was a hobby that I enjoyed and it
helped to temper my mind.
I also took an interest in
botany, unlikely as it might have been. As such, I frequented the local
botanical gardens once or twice a week, both to study and to find a sense of
peace when things got hectic. If nothing else, I found it soothing as no one
else was ever around and I was interested in plants and herbs that could be
used to cure sickness. It also reminded me of swordplay in the palace gardens
with Powell; one of my more fond childhood memories.
One day, in the gardens, I sat
down on a bench in the centre of the park, contemplating a study I was engaged
in pertaining to an herb that could be used to slow the effects of certain
poisons. Ironically, the weather was sunny and beautiful despite my studying of
such a grim subject matter. It was around midday and I had just finished my
lunch. I decided to take a few minutes to myself to absorb the excellent
weather before getting back to work.
Suddenly, however, the sky
darkened from a sea-bright blue to a hazy shade of grey. Ominous rain clouds
filled the sky and thunder and lightning loomed ahead in the distance. Gods, it
came fast! I marvelled at how such sunny weather could take such a turn in
scarce more than the blink of an eye.
It began to rain. To my surprise,
however, I was not getting wet though everything around me was. I looked up to
find a hole in the cloud cover in the sky above me. As I did, a column of
sunlight shot through the hole and surrounded me, almost shielding me from the
rain and unpleasant weather. The light persisted for a few minutes while I
stood perplexed, and then it was gone. Looking around, I noticed that the rain
had stopped and that the storm clouds were quickly dispersing. The beautiful
weather that had characterized the day to this point was making its return.
Not knowing what to make of the
event or even if I should make
anything out of the event, I decided to quit my research for the day and head
home. I could no longer focus on my studies after such a freak event. The
bright and cheerful weather felt almost strange in its own right, and remained
throughout my walk home and for the duration of the day.
Sometime later, I arrived at our
humble countryside house. I saw through the front window as I approached the
front door that Jade was inside cooking a meal of beef stew and dumplings. I
could smell the delicious aroma of both through the open window. Eager to see
her, and also to eat, I entered hastily.
“Jade, I’m home,” I called out.
She didn’t reply. Maybe some charm would work. “Not feeling very talkative, I
see.” I was met with more silence. Deciding she was likely in a foul mood, I
said, “I’ll be in my study. Let me know if you want to talk.”
Hence I retired to my study for
the better part of an hour. Confirming by ear that she was no longer cooking, I
exited the study and joined her in our dining room where our places were set
and our meal was ready.
“It looks great,” I remarked
cautiously. If she was angry, I was going to have to choose my words carefully.
Jade didn’t have a fiery temper but her scorn could be just as intense in its
coolness.
She still didn’t reply and I was
frustrated. I went to her and shook her lightly only to find her staring
blankly back at me in response. Worry crept into my thoughts.
“Jade, what’s wrong?” I asked
earnestly. “Let me help you. Please don’t ignore me.”
But she did ignore me no matter
what I did. Eventually, defeated, I sat down to supper and finished mine as she
ate hers with that same bland stare.
It was so unlike her! Jade was
usually feisty, flirty, full of life. She was the type of person who would
never let you get away with just saying a few words in a conversation and
usually had a witty and sharp reply for just about anything you could imagine.
Something was different today, though. I could tell that something had rocked
her core and that I wasn’t going to be able to get through to her.
It was still early in the evening
and I figured that a venture to the palace to visit my father and the others
I’d known since my youth would be in order and could put me at ease. Surely
they would have some proper advice for me. Maybe I could reconnect with Powell,
my instructor of old. He was a wise man and a good one at that. He might know
what to say.
I quickly saddled and prepared a
mount from the nearby stable that was kept for us. It was small and only
consisted only of mounts for the two of us, but it was appropriate given the
remoteness and the size of our country abode. I chose the sturdier of the two
mounts, reasoning that Jade wouldn’t likely be going anywhere this evening and
also due in small part to rising contempt for the way she had acted towards me
that afternoon.
I rode hard, my thoughts playing
heavily on my mind, and made it to the palace in under an hour. I found no one
there to stable my mount so I did so myself. The palace seemed quiet. I could
only see a few guards and nobles within it from the stables.
No matter, I thought. I only
wanted to talk to a few of the palace’s inhabitants, anyway. I wasn’t in the
mood for anyone else’s company and came to think of the surprising emptiness as
a blessing rather than a curse or an oddity.
I ran into Powell in the main
corridor of the palace leading to the ballroom and anterior chambers in which
the summer moon festival occurred.
“Powell, well met!” I called out
to him. I was met, again, with silence.
I tried a few more times to get
him to speak but failed each time. Eventually, he simply walked past me,
adopting the same blank stare that Jade had given me earlier in the day.
I was worried now. What was
happening around here? Why was I the only one who seemed capable of intelligent
thought?
Hoping for an answer to my
question, I went to my father’s chambers to visit him. I hoped that whatever
was happening around here had not claimed him either. Frustrated and worried, I
flung open the door to his chambers.
“Father!” I yelled, while running
inside.
Again, I was met with no
reaction.
He gave me that same blank state
and seemed incapable of speech. I felt worried and scared. I was confused and
couldn’t figure out why these events were taking place.
“What’s happening?” I screamed
out to no one in particular, knowing that my calls would not be heard. “How is
this possible? Gods be damned!” I cursed, frustration taking me. “Father,
Powell, Jade. Why?” I asked, feeling as if my brain would explode in my head. I
felt defeated and hopeless. Almost as bad as I’d felt when Catherine died. It
was like I was stuck in a nightmare with no way out.
So I turned and ran. I ran as fast
as I could, trying to get out of the palace and back to Jade where I would make
her respond to me no matter what it took. As I was running, I slowly began to
realize that I could no longer see anyone at all. Slowly, it dawned on me: Not
only was everyone I knew becoming unresponsive, but they were disappearing.
I had to get to Jade.
I rode home faster than I’d ever
ridden before. If I weren’t so worried about the circumstances of my situation,
I daresay I would’ve noticed that I had broken a few speed records. When I
arrived at the house, my heart was pounding with fear. I ran inside as fast as
I could and scoured every room in the house in search of Jade. I found nothing.
Finally, something inside me did
snap and I felt worse than I had when Catherine passed. I wept openly and
loudly and curled up into a ball on the floor for several minutes, unable to
accept that my world had fallen apart around me.
Eventually, I snapped out of my
depression enough to have clear thoughts. I remembered where this awful chain
of events began: The botanical gardens. I had to go there! I had to find out
whether or not this was all real and if I could save them all.
I mounted my horse and went off
in the direction of the gardens, though at a slower pace than I’d just had my
mount run. I was worried about what might come to fall at that place but
ultimately knew I had no other options.
In time, I entered the gardens
and made my way to the same spot where the bright light had enveloped me
earlier in the afternoon; the spot where that terrible and surprising storm had
occurred a few hours ago. The first thing that I noticed was that the column of
light was present once more and inside of it stood Jade.
“Jade! Jade!” I called out, a
sense of relief temporarily dispersing my rising panic. To add to that relief
she turned to face me, acknowledging that she could see and hear me.
“Claude,” she said in a somber
tone. “You must be worried.”
“Not anymore,” I replied. “Not
now that I’ve found you.”
She smiled. “My thanks, but it is
not Jade that you have found.”
“What do you mean?” I asked,
feeling that same panic from earlier rising once more, my throat getting dry
and tight.
“I am not Jade. Jade never
existed.”
“What do you mean?” I asked,
feeling the uncertainty of the entire situation tug at my heartstrings, my eyes
watering in response. She had to exist! What was she talking about?
“Jade never existed. Your father,
your mother, and even Catherine,” she added, like rubbing salt in an open
wound. “None of them ever existed,” she said in a monotone voice with what
seemed like toxic conviction.
“But you’re right here! I can see
you!” I roared in confusion.
“You still don’t see, do you?”
she asked, turning her head to the side and turning back to re-centre her gaze
on me. “None of this was ever real. Even I am not real right now. In fact, you are the only thing that is real.”
“Just…Me?” I asked hesitantly,
not sure I wanted to hear what she had to say.
“Yes, Claude. Just you.”
“Then what are you?” I asked, not
quite believing her although everything she was saying did perfectly reflect
the unfathomable events of the day.
“I am what you might call a
God…Yes, some have called me that. I do not occupy your reality but I control
it and can manipulate it. I can tell that your world has collapsed and you
would not be content being the only real one in it, so I am prepared to offer
you a choice.”
“A choice?” I echoed.
“Yes, I am prepared to let you
live your life again; to continue as if this day had never occurred. And at the
end of your days we will meet again to discuss the next step.”
“Why? Why would I be the only one
who’s real?” I asked, not understanding any of what she was saying.
“Because I willed it to be so.
There is no other reason,” she replied as if that statement would make perfect
sense and that I would accept it.
“I don’t believe you,” I
countered. “You’re lying. You’re no God and, everyone I know - they’re all
real!”
“NO!” she roared, suddenly taking
on a much deeper and angrier voice. “You are the only one who is real! You must
accept this. If you do not believe me then reject my offer and walk the world
alone for the rest of your life!”
Her tone scared me. The whole
situation terrified me, but there was only one way to find out if what she was
saying was true or not; to squash all doubts in my mind either way.
“Assuming I do believe you,” I
began. “How would I accept your offer?”
“It is simple,” she replied.
“Step into the light and take my hand.”
“That’s it? No tricks or
anything?” I questioned.
“No tricks,” she agreed. “I
promise you.”
Hesitantly, I stepped into the
column of light. When I did her face softened and she offered her hand. It was
right there and all I had to do to make this nightmare end was to take it and
accept her offer. Questions plagued my mind, at once too numerous and too
specific to address at all. The words couldn’t escape my mouth and I was afraid
to know the answers. Giving into that fear, I took her hand and she squeezed
mine firmly in response. Then the column of light and everything else in the
world turned white and I remembered nothing else.
I awoke to a beautiful summer
day. I thought I would go to the Botanical Gardens in the afternoon to pursue
my interests in botany and medicine. The weather was fitting, as was my mood.
I descended the stairs to find
that Jade had prepared a breakfast of bacon and eggs for me. Kissing her in
greeting, I sat down to my meal.
“So you’ll be going to the
gardens today?” she asked.
“Yes, I think I’ll spend the
afternoon studying.”
“If only you’d give me half as
much attention as you give those plants,” she said wryly.
Finishing my breakfast, I rose
and kissed her. “I’ll give you all the attention you can muster later tonight!”
I exclaimed. She flushed, which I found to be slightly unusual. But I did love it
when she flushed!
After a brief silence, she said,
“I hope you have a good day out there. I love you, Claude.”
“I love you too,” I replied,
kissing her deeply. Then I put on my shoes and opened the door to leave. “I’ll
be back.”
“No matter what?” she asked.
“Again and again, always and
always,” I replied, meaning every word of it.
