《Elateia》 One If you have received this letter, it means I am now dead and leaving to you the entire history of my life. It started around 3,000 years ago in Graecia which you know now as Greece. I was a girl then and lived with my adoring mother and father: in a beautiful villa overlooking a cliff top. Every morning the ocean waves sprayed greetings on the cliff face and licked salt into my face. I loved being awoken every morning by those greetings of the waves and the faint Hum-Buzz of the bees making their early morning trips to the Rose-bushes. This morning was different however, something felt off. I awoke to a strange noise; it started as a reverberating noise in the deepest pits of my ear and curled like a snake as it left. The ocean was more violent then usual, sending thunderous echoes throughout the cliff, and the clouds seemed to be creating violent messages. The sky was also the colour of old cat vomit: a sickly mauve brown with ink splatters. I walked slowly from my room and put on my chiton. The beautiful red linen hung around my shoulders in a sweeping curtain manner, and the gold flecks embroidered into the fabric caught every fleck of light and looked like dancing fireflies echoed onto my skin. The giant gold button securing my chiton was worn and had a faded quality to it: a gold coin rubbed too many times for good luck. The rest of the chiton was coloured like marble and had small purple tendrils battling for space and dominance. I awoke in a strange place; it was coved and domed in a dark stony cavern. I''ve had this dream many times, and everytime I''m transported, it feels like a candle wick getting brighter. This time was different however, I heard something calling my name. It was a faint whispering over and over in my heart, and the soft soil underneath felt all too real. The candle wick got brighter and the scene was more realized. The domed ceilings were skulls galore, the bones puckered were lips and eyes once were. They had funny drawings on them: little black figures distorted by age and much rubbing. It was a cascade of burnt looking bone, mixtures of grotesque browns with the most egg-shell white. As I moved further in, the ground began to have some type of flooring. Crude stones pushed carelessly together like entangled lovers and wood piled in between. It looked a violent imitation of peristyle with its roughly dug domed ceilings. There were also smashed tables and chairs, completely separated from their joints resembling pirate limbs. Each table had the remnants of meat sucked dry and deflated like an empty bladder. I heard the voice again, and my feet moved to follow. It was a soft bell jingling in my ears and traveling throughout my body. I came to a small chamber off to the side with wood burning on the wall and spaced in weird intervals. The voice called to me again; it sounded like honeysuckle to my ears. I could no longer move and was being kept in place. I felt a commanding grip on my neck and the voice again. ¡°You are here for a greater purpose, to become a living God amongst men.¡± Stolen story; please report. It was many voices and languages together at once, all converging into one yet making sense to me. Language seemed to be no obstacle to this strange being. Each syllable rolled effortlessly from its mouth and had no accent or unique pattern to it. All light was taken from the place, one by one in a repetitive sequence like the twinkling stars exploding one by one. My vision began to obscure, and I was taken back to my home. I was looking at it from above as a weightless bird soaring free through every room and weaving past the peristyle with its luscious blooming plants and towering columns. I saw the child I once was living her life peacefully. I was feeling warmth from the love of the sun, all other ages, and the people I''ve been, at once, carrying out the task of growing old and living. How strange to be watching myself while also being me, a private spectator in the ceiling and sky. Suddenly a strange combination of scarlet and dirty red began to fill the scene; something was rippling deep within. The drum of my heart was beating furiously, it all began to fade and mix into a strange vision. Beasts were watching me from the shadows, waiting to attack. I felt an urgency to flee from my home. Safety no longer washed its soft silks and warm colours over me, and my home was disappearing from view. That was when I felt it, the stinging sensation in my neck, the sweetness of the breath, and the language from the being behind me. It filled my neck with both death and the need to survive. A searing hot flash was discombobulating my surroundings and my need to stay on two feet. I felt my fingers and hands start to go limp and become sturdy like tree trunks. My legs were turning into marble. My childhome came back to me in the fumes of bittersweetness and was quickly swept away, a fleeting memory falling through my grasp. The pain continued and began to become all I knew and wanted, giving me the force I now needed to continue the beat of the drums in my heart. Crashing and tumbling deep within, ebbing and flowing through all my body. The web connected to my heart and brain responding also with pinpricks to my skin and warm chills. The wick began to burn like angels descending from heaven, and my home and memories were washed over me continually in deep and bright hues. I was rooted in place while my limbs felt like they were descending in the sky, unable to reach out. I was back in my home, repeating the events of this morning, and then the candle wick went out. That is all I remember before my turning and what made me who I am. Before I continue on with the story, I must tell you my name for formalities. I am known currently as Elateia, but I have been known as many names and lived many lives. I do not remember the name of the vulgar creature who bit me, but I remember the feeling. It was as if everything at once was taken into me and flowed through me. Every colour shone through my veins and illuminated my skin; every sound passed through me and entered in a way I never experienced before. It was every memory, every thought gliding along and wrapping me up in its sweet embrace like honeydew ripening a rose, but then another sensation came: a scorching, skin cracking sensation that mixed into the concoction and made it bitter sweet. That is how I became a vampire. Two Sitting alone in this coffee shop shuffling through the stacks of letters left to me through inheritance; it''s important to share this history with you. I''m currently organizing the first stack given to me and skimming the second letter, which you will find enclosed here. The first one hundred years of my life were extremely challenging to adjust to, I felt like a god amongst tiny ants and as my power grew so did my apathy. I began to care less and less for the life around me and let my need for more take over. There was bliss in taking and taking without objection and indulging in what I now was; I wreaked havoc on communities and towns where I grew up and became a symbol to be feared. On my first hunting night, I stumbled upon Cassopaei, even in the darkness the impending cliffs looked to be carved out of bleached bone and resembled faces carved by thousands of mortals. Lush overgrown forests were littered on top with giant ivy hands stroking the scenery down below. I dragged myself slowly through the rain-moistened, sand-ridden pathways; pearl-sized pieces of sand balled at my feet. As I walk I try to feel for life. I discovered a new gift I never had before as a mortal. The ability to feel one''s blood and memories through the vessel I now wander through. As I continue walking I begin to feel the opening rhythm of one''s heart, a rabbit caught in a snare kicking and punching for a way out; I take it into myself and begin to feel the sensation of a mortal organ working inside me. Each memory and thought rushes into me with each beat of the pump, filling me with new sensations. I follow the glorious scent of the colour and beats step by step, finding out more about my prey. They had just returned from the taverna, stumbling through the cliffs and sand clumps, leaving a colourful trail behind them that guided me and allowed me to see things I never had before. The beauty of it alone was enough to move me and make my body lose its control. I continued to stalk my prey and wait for my opening; then I found the opportunity. They were keeled over, releasing a Merlot grape purple substance. That was starting to form a puddle which rippled with each footfall and stumble. I slowly creep behind my prey and begin to unhinge my jaw, my hundreds of fangs aching for skin to meet them. I slowly plunge my fangs into their neck: the vein pulsating and waiting for the skin to break. The waterfall sprays each fang in my mouth and fills my body with human experience and life. A burning, pleasure-filled experience making my feet tingle. I release my grip when I am finished and slew their body into the deep merlot puddle they had once created. I return to the shadows and try to find a place to rest before sunrise. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. That was my first feeding night and the most powerful experience I ever had undead or mortal. In my next letter, you will find my first resting place enclosed and what happened hereafter but for now, I must stop writing. Three Before I continue on with discussing the whereabouts of my first resting place, I would very much like to tell you why I chose Cassiopeia. It was the perfect place for my feeding activities as it was shrouded by many trees and high cliff faces. It allowed me to sound like the whispering winds upon human ears when I approached and disappeared just as quickly. My first resting place was in a grotto, deep in a cliff face. It had protection from sunlight and her mighty beams and allowed me to stay hidden until the want of sustenance overtook me. Long arms and overhanging nails of leaves and bushes covered the entrance and moss began its life cycle in every crevice of the rock face. I dug small shafts as a way out which led me back onto the grainy sand paths and placed any available rock or piece of nature I could find to obscure it. My first few pitfalls after my first rest were exhilarating; I felt more alive than I ever had, like life itself was a part of me and all living things. Exhaustion was not a worry of mine anymore, and I felt no weakness within myself. It was all-consuming. Before I was fully unliving, I wanted to have a child and create a life that I could nurture and love. I still had a desire at that time for connection. I was a very emotional being back then; I look back now and feel completely adverse. It kept me rooted to things I didn''t belong to anymore and put me in danger more than I''d like to think about. I set about finding a mate to achieve this task, which started by me trying to look as presentable as Aphrodite herself. I brushed my hair into thick, loose curls with my nails and covered parts of my body with different fabrics. Each a different colour and pattern, one had golden lace and stars. Another was heavy velvet wrapped around most of my lower half, in a coral reef pink which was in marriage with the golden lace. The final fabric I obtained completed the look; it was a clownfish orange colour which looked like it had been dipped into the sun herself and was topped with unearthly embroidery of forests. As I made the finishing touches, I secured it all with a silver ring topped with a giant amethyst like a crown into the mid section. As night started to feel I left my home of rest and set out finding the male right to achieve my desire. I tuned into the sounds of the passing world, listening for the correct beat of a heart and the correct brain that could be molded. That''s when I heard it, the pulsating brain wanting connection and the tiger-like heart beating extremely fast. Thump, thump, thump, the sound continued waiting for the right one and the right time. I looked into him and told him I was willing and ready to take. Stolen novel; please report. He approached me, a dog in heat and that is when our souls started to merge. During this time I never felt so strongly, like I was fulfilling a purpose and that me and someone else were one and the same, connected by some signal that linked us and merged us. It was as if whatever we were made out of was blossoming from the same source and sprouting. An uncontrollable fruit tree leaving its branches bare and heavy. This is one experience I have never forgotten and in my recent years, I wish to relive it over and over. Experiencing the beauty of creation until I''m satisfied and fulfilled, a rose blossom blooming. My letter is getting too long but I will tell you what happened afterwards and if my attempt at creation was successful. Four Before presenting the fourth letter, I''d like to tell you some more about them. To be quite honest my heritage is a huge question to me. Why did I receive these letters? They were just left at my door in a sun-stained bundle, tied loosely by a stamp and ribbon. I''d like to remain nameless as they are published by the wish that came with the letters, so I''m not pursued. After my encounter with the mortal, I sent them on their way and returned to my sanctuary. I went about business as usual until I felt the first signs. It began when I was feeding, a faint drum that began inside my pits and traveled through my limbs. It felt like wasps kissing my skin over and over. Then the pain began, a thousand thorns raging through me and slicing my brain. My body began to reject these sensations and soon blood was rejecting me and expelling itself out. I was a broken body constantly regenerating to fight itself and keep me and my unborn alive. I lay bare on the cool rocks and let the breeze cleanse my body. It brought me temporary solitude and relief to feel another life form touching me. My battle was constant with myself and the need to feed was overbearing but I could not move for fear of pain. I gave myself sustenance from the small diving beetles; it was all I could handle at this time and still, my body was fighting to keep them down. By my two-hundredth day, I began to feel my body releasing the unborn that was draining me, bit by bit I braced myself. I propped myself up and moved near a small body of water with pads blooming on top and a dragonfly marionette dancing just above. I started to exert myself and with effort tried to expel this force feeding off me. Pushing and pushing I started to feel some pressure release and the air hit me more harshly. I felt like a cork in a wine bottle waiting to be free, as I continued pushing I felt parts of my heart be released and shared with this life I had created. As my orchard began to feel more free, I did too and the sweet pain only helped with this sensation, my whole body was being dipped in a sweet honey that was being pecked at by different birds. My mind was cleared as my orchard had more air flowing through it and I was no longer having thoughts clouded by a stormy sea. In my final push, my soul began to cling onto the sweet life released from me; the immediate ease and relief were indescribable and I felt as if I''d just walked a pilgrimage. I held the sweet peach closely in my arms and let it touch the tendrils of my remaining heart and follow the beat. I felt an overwhelming sense of tenderness and emotion. I wanted to give my sweet child all the pearls and moonlight in the solar system. I wrapped the new life in dried seaweed and brushed its small lines of hair. Its smooth golden brown scalp and little hairs were soft as fur and felt comforting to my fingertips. I held it up high as I traversed the craggy surfaces and held it tightly like any action could cause me to lose grip and smash the precious peach to a thousand pieces. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. In my next letter, I will discuss the formative years and how I cared for my precious unborn and gave all the things in the world. To cultivate the ripening peach and watch it blossom was my only goal at this time in my life and I''d very much like to tell you more Five After the birth, I set about finding food. I scouted the rural village close to me and used my soul to hear the passersby''s thoughts of where nourishment could be acquired. There was a small barn with few cows and chickens; their hearts beating furiously and without thought. A small Gioras was also situated close by and was filled with the smells of sweet grain and flour being spread and kneaded every hour: its scent like a ripe tree branch hanging in the air. I waited until the burning crown in the sky had set and moved the leaves protecting my sanctuary. I first went to the Gioras to find the sweetest, risen, sacred cake. As I approached, the giant archways of the entrance greeted me, and the delicate brocade in the metal glimmered like a rare jewel. The gold brilliantly shining and the deep red dripping like nectarine juice, weaving together into lines and shapes most wonderful. As I entered further the smooth textured white plaster walls had pores that carried the smells further and rose in the air as crudely carved beams that looked carried out of a dollhouse. Sacred cakes lined every shelf and were placed in strange holding chambers; they looked to be a birds nest holding these valuable items. Above me there were glowing balls of light dangling from the ceiling and filling the room with a warm fire. I moved to the center of the room where a garish fluffy square lay on the floor underneath a practical slat table. I chose the softest warmest piece of sacred cake to give to my child. It was filled with wondrous circles that looked like puffed up clouds waiting to be torn. I picked it up and let the soft cake expand and shrink in my hands with every movement as it left a sweet residue on my hands. I took my leave and headed to the barn to collect the last piece I needed. Walking closer it looked to be made from discarded and unloved objects that had fallen from the sky. Each piece of mismatching wood created odd angular lines and interesting colours that I''d never seen before. A speckle of grey powdered the off white slats, mixing with the shingles on top. It looked to be a relic from a different time with nature possessing it. The cows and chickens walked as if on a slope inside but seemed as if they were used to this wooden prison. I used all my available skill and knowledge to pass undetected and picked up a chicken. It was a marvelous offering and had deep blue, emerald feathers on its behind, like an odd looking peacock and large flap of red hanging underneath its head. I plunged my teeth into its neck and drained it. Then I proceeded to pluck every feather one by one until I held a ball of skin in my hands. I returned back to my sanctuary and set the items upon a set of leaves. I ripped the skinless chicken apart in my hands and carefully selected each piece. Then I set about finding a good place to create embers to cook it; I found an area that was dry nestled between some large rocks and surrounded by leaves. I plucked the leaves from the stems and furiously rubbed them together with the thoughts of feeding my child and the desperation to make her happy. Sparks began to dance and flicker to life, and soon a torrent of heat had been created. I placed each piece of chicken into it as if it were an offering to the gods themselves and then turned my attention to the sacred cake. I found some olives growing from a vine crawling up the wall; its sweet yet sour scent cascading down it. Plucking three one by one, I began to roll them in my hands and feel the soft contours. I squeezed and crushed them into a pulp in my hands and created a deep green, brown paste. I grabbed the sacred cake, carefully pulled it into different sections, and spread the paste on each one. When that was done the chicken had turned a bone like colour and had become the texture of fraying wool. I put each one on the sacred cake and slowly propped my child up on knee. I slowly brought each cake to my child''s mouth like it was a bird drinking from the surface of a lake. Each piece created small lumps in her throat and slid slowly down, satiating her cries and filling her brain with the love I have for her. The first few months of my child''s life were going as they should. Her body began to grow more plump, and her fat arms started to wave greetings at me. Her hair had started to grow ringlets of brown gold and were soft as petals to the touch. But as she grew my need for blood was starting to want to hurt her. Scared of myself and for my child I knew I had to give her to mortals who would cherish her for the precious jewel she was. At night I began to search for the correct mortals to care for her. I started by observing a merchant and his family in the village. Their house was a mountain of bricks and splendor and towered over everything. The columns in front are overbearing and too grand and the marble too pristine. The door was a beautifully carved wooden oval with parts of black lining and brightly coloured squares, dominating a large section of the wall. I saw the merchant returning late at night, giddy like a child and trying to say something unanswerable. His sleeves bouncing in the chill night air and his leather sandals cracking under the pressure of his body. His mass of brown curly hair sat precisely on his shoulders. His inner voice came to me and spoke only of money, material things and women proposing themselves. I knew he wouldn''t be a good fit and went on my way. I listened and searched every corner until I came upon something that seemed hopeful. A woman was singing a sweet hymn to herself over a pot and dropping different greenery inside, stirring and stirring as she went. Her child next to her begging to have involvement and creating loud beautiful cries. She lifted the child to her chest and continued to sing while she let the child hold a herb and drop it in. Her love was spreading to every area of the small room and made me feel an extension of it; it was filling the pot with thoughts of goodness and love for her child. I sat and observed more as she was finishing up and watched her child kick its smell feet about in excitement and snort while pulling the woman''s hair. She placed the child on a seat of some kind and carried the pot to the center of the room. She began to scoop the liquid mixture of greenery into an oval shaped object and feed it to her child. It began to squeal and show its little tooth as it was starting to feel content. I knew she''d be a good mother to my child and decided to leave a letter with my child wrapped in the old feathers I collected from the chicken. I spoke of my love for my child and how I had to leave and wanted her to be safe. I placed her carefully on the space outside the woman''s hut and patted her to make sure she was bundled warmly and safely. An overwhelming emotion began to fill me, and I wanted to touch her brown ringlets again and hold her close to me. I wanted to ask the sun for answers, cry out, and let the rising tornado inside me unleash. To feel her soft delicate forehead again, the smooth pearl luster of it seeming even rarer to me now, the sweet smell being the only thing I could think of. Wishing her small round fingers would always be attached to me and wrap around my hands like a bracelet too small. The overwhelming need to have her always be a part of me was all consuming, and I wanted her always close to me. But I knew it was dangerous and tried to swallow those feelings deep within me and lock them away in a different part of me. I began to walk away and stared at the blackness of the sky, the purple gleam of the moon beaming upon me. Everything seemed darker as I focused more on my feelings, my hands felt empty and my mind too occupied. I was falling within myself and was rooted in spot, trying to savor every memory and hang onto it. Slipping farther and farther away into the waterfall of my grief and sudden loneliness, the beautiful blues and hues of green consuming me. Every thought and memory was trying to scream at once and a deep cry was sounding within me, mounting and mounting with each thought. It was guttural and rising to my pit and stomach, ascending to my brain and trying to crawl out like a tick who''s been hiding and feeding. Nothing mattered in that moment but my need to scream; the need for the salt to fall from my eyes. I opened my mouth as far as it would go, but I was so consumed I could only whimper like an injured animal. I held my finger and tried to imitate my sweet child''s hold. It made the tornado inside whip faster and faster and an uncontrollable wind was dragging me back to my sanctuary. I laid in the rocks where she first entered the world and let the salt from my eyes stream down into everything. My eyes were filled with thoughts of her. I wrapped my finger tighter around my hand and held it close to me in the hopes some new wisdom would make it pass. My eyes began to fill with blackness, and the salt from my eyes began to taste sweet. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I awoke the next morning, feeling like I had no purpose and tried to busy myself with responsibilities of eating and things I did before. But it felt so empty and useless, so I laid back down in the rocks. That is all I remember from that period. I would like to pluck it from my mind, but it has always eaten at me and will continue to do so. Six It is with sadness I inform you that I have misplaced some of the letters, and we¡¯re not going in chronological order from this point. The next letter is about her time in the 1980s. It is an extremely windy day, but it feels alive and hot with the heat of the city. It''s electric and constantly on fire at all times. All one has to do is walk down the street to see all the grey and black alien pods in huge lines filling every street and the bright pink and phosphorescent signs telling you to buy things. I love this era of time and progression in mortals, the way their feet are in big spikes stomping or the huge grey blocks they hold to their ear and shout into. I feel like a walking sky building in my clothes. This new era has ushered in big building like porches on my shoulders and tight fitted black things on my legs which I so love to feel clinging to my skin. And these most curious soft circular straps on my chest that wrap all around and feel like it might slip at any moment. I also particularly enjoy the spikes my feet are currently resting on, further adding to the effect of me being a big building, with towering limbs and harsh blacks. I am currently situated in a funny stone building where people rush in the masses to hand over paper rectangles with foil on them to put onto these small plastic rectangles. I come every evening and leave in the early morning to collect these pieces of papers. I collect them in a big room they say is something called an ¡®offic?¡¯ It has a big desk and chairs which I sit in and a funny white block that produces light on it. In the corner it has a big green plant of marvelous proportions with drooping leaves that slowly caress the wall. And a funny soft texture on the entire floor which I enjoy walking in as it rises up and down. How funny these new inventions and customs are. As I help more people, I start to take my leave for the day. I put my plastic rectangle in a hole in the wall to see what notes I own. There is a list of numbers and many funny words for me to choose from; I chose the withdraw option. I set out to punch in the numbers on the metal square with brightly coloured lights and go for 200,000. It takes a while for all these pieces of paper to come out in a row. I open up my big pouch from this era in preparation. I put all the notes in one by one and set on my way. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. My sanctuary is now a big room in an oddly shaped tower. It has many stairs to reach it and big see through holes to see everything on the sides. It has a long corridor with many other doors like mine and the soft funny texture I so love on the floor. As I approach my door, I have to fumble with the line in it and put this odd metal contraption in. It turns and turns before my door can open and as I enter, it makes a strange slow sound. As it closes, I pull this chain onto the door so it cannot be opened from the outside and set my things down. It is a very large and spacious room with big see through holes everywhere and soft funny things all over the floor. It also has blank high walls everywhere and a rectangle with legs for me to sleep in. My most favorite thing in my new sanctuary is the black box which has pictures showing up on it every day and this mysterious white object that dispenses hot sweet brown liquid for me to drink. This is all I can describe for the moment, I''m too overwhelmed by everything, I shall write more later. Seven In my busy life working in a strange place, I found someone who I quite admire. Their skin has a beautiful pearl luster, and when they smile it looks like clouds rolling together in a wondrous blue sky. They fill the space in the room with a warm, dense heat that envelops me like a plant in a tropical fetid jungle. They open the rooms in my heart and fill the chambers with all kinds of colours: deep wines, pine greens and flaxen shades. I feel like at any moment he will turn into a giant titan and smash the ice caverns that used to protect me. His skin is the softest Umber with tints of yellow, and when the light catches the skin, it resembles pools of light on a pond''s surface. It''s soft to the touch like a finely woven silk cloak and makes me feel comfort and security. If he was a statue he could only be carved by Michelangelo; his beauty which the flesh encompasses would need to be captured to the last detail. His biceps are perfectly rounded and create the most pleasing shape to his upper half: an hourglass-like shape which flows down beautifully into his lower half. His broad chest is defined beautifully, and his collar bones meet perfectly to his neck. It has the perfect width and rises to his square aligned jaw. His jaw meets in union with his ears to create a neatly constructed circle. The eyes are in perfect proportion with the forehead on a perfect line. The eyelashes are long and wondrous, curving up to the heavens in a wilting S, where they meet with the lines of previous smiles and memories. The colour of them is most beautiful; they are like green planets floating through the atmosphere with flecks of ochre browns and golds. They are on their way to transmit light before their inevitable journey into a black hole. His nose finishes this journey with symmetry, adding to the lines of his face by finishing off in a line met by a circle. His hands lay perfectly by his side on his big mountainous thighs which flow down into his perfectly well formed feet. I think I''m experiencing what people call love! I want to give myself completely to him and never leave his side like an ancient god and goddess in slumber. I want to experience the heat and closeness every waking moment and all my thoughts are consumed with it. To feel him touching me with his warm embrace and wrapping my body in warmth and comfort. Protecting me from any danger that could hurt me. Keeping all space comfortable and secure with me in mind, allowing me to express myself freely. We embraced and it''s like the time and place we¡¯re in melts away, into a place where the greenest fields and perfect virgin clouds wait for me. Creating the most comfortable resting place with him, with the sweetest, towering roses and sunflowers everywhere. Stroking my nostrils gently with their dripping sweet smells and filling them with luscious scents. I lay with him staring at the endless rolling clouds in their perfect formations and the bright yellow jewel in the sky, casting tender kisses on our skin. As he pulls away, I''m violently ripped away from that place and brought back to the boring place I was in before. This sudden pull shocked and disturbed me and made me come back to my current senses. Everything felt dull and colourless, with no purpose or meaning. I never want this new place to be forgotten or lost to me, I want to cherish it always and feel its softness in my hands when I touch it, before it''s lost to time. We embrace again and the fabric is pulled away like a soft silk cloud and we¡¯re back in that wonderful place. We lay close to each other and let the fragrant petals fall into our hands, tenderly pulling each petal from our hearts and crushing them into one bright mesh of colours; pops of reds, and soft yellows combining into tangerine. The flecks of deep red hues and bright yellows create a show with each other in the new colour created. It shines in all its splendor and magnificence creating a crown which shines brightly. Reflecting on his skin beautifully and making him look like he grew from a seed sprouted from this wondrous earth. We walk through this new place, his hand guiding me. We see other versions of ourselves, with happy children and many friends. Our gathering to be devoted to one another and our families cheering and celebrating for us, melting into a big picture. Amorous and out of reach, a perfect apple from a still life painting yet feeling so close. I''m back in my office and feel the need to feed very strongly, I leave him and set out to find whatever mortal will satisfy me. I feed and feel the bright electric web moving through me again and conducting all my senses. I notice him watching and feel great shame and disappointment for this happening. He rushes at me and a void of anger and hatred spews forth. His body and mind became agitated and seemed to disregard me as quickly as we had embraced before. It was crippling to my chest and heart, squeezing it so tightly and filling my throat and mouth with the scent of anger and pain. In a searing flash it rips my throat and reaches through my chest to pull my heart out. He''s a hunter and waits to destroy me. I let this onslaught and crusade of my heart happen. I am a divided being, filled with so much love and adoration, but this feeling is too much to bear. A giant planet crushing my back and making it harder for me to breathe and protest. The blackness from my heart is spreading into my brain and eyes, making the previous beauty and security I felt seem distant and worlds away. I desperately want to go back to that place with him and feel untouchable. I scream and plead until my throat cannot move and sounds cant be processed. It seemed to be no use. He was so set and resolute in his anger towards me that it was like trying to move a towering giant marble statue. My body and soul are completely black and grey, only allowing this pain to root me in place. I cannot stop myself from feeling this way. I try to suppress it, but it''s no use. I can no longer plead and hold him and make him see my reality. I wail and feel the sweet saltiness streaming down my face as my lungs struggle for air and space. It''s crushing me over and over then rebuilding me only to tear me down again. I feel no longer whole and indestructible. I feel like a holy idol torn down and trampled on, uncared for and all love lost for it. I try to focus on my breathing, but I''m pulled back into his hateful void with blackness covering my body. I feel torn from my stem and anticipate his destruction. I shrink within myself as his shadow looms over me like a colossus; I wish to shrink and shrink to avoid him. The previous sweetness is blending into the mixture and making me doubt my feelings. I want to destroy myself or him before it consumes me fully, but the divided part of me will not let me. The love and adoration creeps around the corner keeping my heart anchored. Another version of me keeping my heart from turning into prune and pulp. Everything is a sickly pale violet and I want to scream, but my throat can no longer make sounds. I am no longer rooted to him and feel no need to exist. A weed growing where it shouldn''t on a planet that no longer belongs to me. Rejecting and expelling me only to pull me back and wrap in sweeter hatred. I feel a horrible mixture of anger and love, the most pain filled combination. Bright violent reds and dark pinks creating a fusion of ultraviolence and tenderness for things to be how they once were. I dig my nails into my palms and count each line and mark like they are the passing days of our love in my emotional cell. I must leave this time and place and be where I most want to be. Back with my child in the lands I so loved to call my own, her soft breezes and twinkling stars waiting for me. Brushing me gently and giving me the comfort and security I desire. I tread carefully not wanting to disturb this new found peace afraid it will shatter with any sudden movement. But he pulled me away again and reassured me, he felt too much and expressed it in a way I''ve never experienced before. Misunderstanding my intentions, he picks up my pruned and lifeless heart and brings back its colour and life. He places it back with care and touches my chest slowly. Its slow steady beats form again and stop my soul clinging to the floor and the blackness. I no longer feel rootless and feel put together. My stem growing back together and closing the tear. I''m back in that place with him, and while the colours are less vibrant I feel at ease. They have a new shine and luster to them, a sunset that''s settled after a storm. He embraces slower and more carefully and whispers my name so tenderly making my heart and ears tingle. He''s being more careful as though not to disrupt this place or himself, saying sweet things to me over and over. They reach my heart in a strange pattern, but start to fill my body with these colours. I can grow again and prosper in his light; he wants to nourish me more and never tear me down again. I want to prosper as one with him, a two headed sunflower with rose thorns, in a soil made for us. Always linked and independent to grow separately, to still feel him there when I need him. Our new petals will bloom bright and huge, giving us protection and the warmth of each other''s embrace always. He says I''ll be fine and I believe him with all my being and soul. To grow together even in a storm is a most necessary thing, to bloom from the cracks in stone. I know he''ll look out for me and not let our endless dance and song end in a minor key. I see now that conflict was bound to happen; it gave me more perspective and stopped him from being in a constant pink. I see him for all the beauty in the torn and ripped edges and he sees me too. I know his soul as well as my own and we are the same, fully formed and imperfect. Yet we link together in a most pleasing way, fitting around each other''s flaws and cloaking them together. We will trample them together and they will no longer get in the way. We will destroy anyone or anything that tries to get in the way together and grow together. As our embrace strengthens our bonded stem and makes the sunflower grow brighter and taller. The clouds seem to be imperfectly beautiful and part the way for the brighter sun rising over us and keeping us closer in union. I feel a new sensation, as if everything makes sense now and is no longer muddled with vibrant colors or the blacks and greys. I know him even better than I did before and will stand tall and proud with him. An ancient goddess standing by her god''s side, a new era and time forming for us. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. As I reflect on this time I realize how lucky I am to have met him, from the moment I met him my world felt completed and fully realized. A painting made from all the blacks and greys and pinks and oranges we''ve experienced filling my soul and heart. I feel completeness and security and I know now what my purpose is.