Pretend that it is raining

Turn your face to the sky

Can you feel the little pin pricks

Just above your eyes

*Deep breath*

There is water running

Gently down your cheek

But it is warm, and it’s ok

Let your muscles go weak

*Deep breath*

Feel the breeze that’s blowing?

It’s carrying the drops

Smell them as they hit the ground

release your tension, stop.

She awoke from her sleep with a fierce headache. She couldn’t understand why it was so dark in her chambers and why she felt as if she had been run over by a wagon. Her body ached from toe to crown. Her eyelids felt heavy and her fingers numb. It felt as if her entire body had been sleeping and wasn’t ready to wake up yet, too tired to wake up.

She tried to sit up in her bed, but fell over the edge and hit the rocky floor. The stone was cold underneath her hands; she could even feel the stony touch and the coldness through her dress.

The world was swimming in front of her eyes, not that she could see much of it. She couldn’t see the walls of the room she was in, but when she lifted her head she saw the swimming outline of a door.

She suddenly remembered about a man with raven locks, blue eyes, and a taunting smile. She remembered that he had called himself Count Fidel Guillermo Hasta del Fizanto. It was the blue of his eyes that forced her to believe him.

During all those times spent together, the fake count had fooled with her. Or perhaps he was just a lying count. It was uncertain whether he had just been telling some lies, or whether he really was a count. At this moment, though, it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was finding Giuliana and a way out of wherever they were.

She rose to her feet, but the world turned and her ears dived underwater. She fell to the ground again, and stood on hands and knees, waiting for the swimming sensation to leave.

As soon as it subsided, she started crawling towards the door. She felt that the floor was definitely stone, possibly the floor of a cave.

The entrance of the cave room she was in had been dug out ruggedly, and fitted with wooden doorposts.

Outside of the cave room, she looked up and saw she was in a hallway. To her left, it was darkness. To her right, a light flickered over the end of the hallway, where the tunnel opened into a large room.

She crawled in this direction, slowly and painstakingly making her way past three entrances on her right and one on her left.

The light grew stronger and the floor less rugged. The hallway opened up into a large underground space. Here, there were three torches besides every exit out of the room. They counted twenty-four torches, and the effect was magnificent. In the middle of the room, there hung some kind of rough chandelier from the vaulted ceiling, and hundreds of candles burned in this.

The entire room was well-lit. She could see three exits, one at each wall, and wondered what lay beyond them.

“A lady on hands and knees,” he mocked from behind her. She swung around, too quickly, and fell backwards, her head spinning furiously once more.

She felt strong hands pick her up and felt the sensation of being moved. The count, fake or true, carried her to the exit across from them. This room had one exit out of it. It was also well-lit, and though her head was swimming, she could see a bed and chests by its foot and next to it, acting as a table.

There was a desk in the one corner, and bookshelves mounted on the wall over it. An exit was to the right side. The left lower corner, closest to them, had an armchair and smaller table. The right lower corner had the door and nothing else in it.

She saw all this, for he stood still in his sanctuary, giving her the moment to introspect.

“I apologize for the lack of style in my choice of décor, Milady. This is an underground cave system, after all. Finery should be left for castles.”

She didn’t look at him, but watched warily as he carried her towards the bed. He thumped her unceremoniously and turned away, walking out of the cave room. He returned but a moment later with a silver goblet.

The liquid reminded her of wine, but the smell was repulsive. She turned her head away from it, pulling up her nose.

“Milady, you will obey me or suffer the consequences.” He grabbed her chin and forced the liquid to her lips. Though she fought and struggled, his force and fight was stronger. The liquid sloshed at her lips, entered the cracks, slipped into her mouth and down her throat.

She felt the foul-smelling liquid dripping off her chin and onto her already-filthy dress.

He was merciless, though, and soon more of the liquid was landing on her tongue than her dress. Every last drop was forced into her, and then he let go of her. She had been fighting his hold and her head whipped back, lightly hitting the rock wall.

His smile was mysterious and mocking in the light of wall-mounted torches. He stepped away and towards the desk, where he placed the goblet and then seated himself.

The swimming sensation departed from her brain, even though her body felt exhausted and ready to sleep once more.

“Who are you really?” She muttered, willing her numb lips to life.

“I am really Count Fidel Guillermo Hasta del Fizanto.” He glanced over at her and back at the letter he was composing.

“What do you want with me?” Her head started swimming and dots splattered in her vision. “Why did you kidnap me?” Her tongue was getting heavy and she fell onto the bed.

The count stood from his chair and walked over to the bed. Without any effort, he picked her up and placed her back more comfortably. He then crossed over to the foot of the bed and pulled a light blanket from the chest. He covered Edelia and then sat down, rubbing his finger down the side of her face.

“You are Lady Edelia, a favourite of Queen Charlisia, and noticed by King Yulio. I am a man with great dreams for the day of tomorrow. It is time to end what exists, Milady. It is time to create the future. Your father is a generous man…He will not allow any scoundrel to walk away with his daughter.”

He cupped her cheek and leaned in closer.

“My dearest Lady, I require the perfect sacrifice. Who else but the daughter of Lord Evinson, the lord of property encompassing the magnitude of the King and Queen’s lands combined? Who else but the King’s favoured Lord to threaten?”

“Fear not, Milady…” He chuckled, pressing his nose against hers. “It will be painless.”

Fall Memories

Fall breezes gently blowing

Dark gray painted skies

Highlighting the trees below

Cool temperatures

Crisp and clean air

Bright colored leaves

Red, orange and yellow

Like precious jewels

Rustling in the breeze

Hugging the branches ever so tightly

Before falling to the ground

Chimes ringing in the wind

Moving back and forth

Playing their own muted tune

Serenading

On another day

Fall Memories

She'd begun to keep a mental tally of all the little gestures and omissions that indicated he might be pulling away: a sudden, obsessive interest in his phone, a distracted, mechanical quality to his embraces, increasingly vague replies to her questions and unreadable facial expressions. Each occurrence triggered a small alarm in her brain which kept her body into a near constant state of restlessness.

Though she lay beside him in bed each night, she imagined he was on his own blanketted island where placid, impersonal waters guarded his private thoughts and dreams from her. The harder she swam towards it, she realized, the further it shrank into the distance.

Frustration was replaced with panic then, as if she were in actual danger of drowning: she'd already paddled too far out, she thought, and didn't have the energy to turn back.

you smell like honey, gingerbread

and the promise of snow,

my winter sun,

dripping slowly from a jar

sticky fingertips and a trace of nutmeg,

tangerine zest, your love

and all those trickling stars,

lost in the beating

of a pulse,

almost as if powder sugar

slowly coating

our raspberry hearts

Sometimes the most heartfelt words

Are lost in the air

Drowned in the cacophony

Of the ever busy world

But they'll reach their client eventually

Because destiny is persistent

And it'll bring together like minded souls

“Sixteen... seventeen... eighteen,” I whispered under my breath. Locating my row, I plunked down into seat ‘B’ with a sigh and dropped my backpack onto my shoes.

“You should stow that in the overhead compartment,” said a little voice nearby, and I turned, startled, toward the occupant of seat ‘A’, whom I somehow missed noticing before. She wore a white blouse and a grey skirt that camouflaged with the seat. What sort of little girl dresses like that? I wondered. It looked like a uniform. She had a stuffed bear tucked under one arm, a stern-faced character that looked like a reproduction of an antique bear, the kind with a long, pointed snout and no fur. Its limbs were stiff and unfriendly, not at all cuddly like I thought a bear should be.

I put in an effort to smile. I’d never been comfortable around children.

“I thought I’d keep it under the seat... easier to get at,” I explained, kicking my bag under the seat in front of me.

The girl reached into the pouch in front of her and pulled out the dog-eared airline safety manual. I watched as she studied it soberly for a few minutes. She glanced up at me finally.

“It’s important to know these things.”

I nodded my agreement. “So... are you flying alone?” I asked.

“Yes. I always do.”

“You do a lot of flying then?”

“I suppose.”

She didn’t seem to want to discuss the matter further, so I gave up on the small talk and sat back in my seat, shutting my eyes until the plane started to move. For lack of anything else to do, I watched the flight attendant demonstrate the safety procedures as we began to taxi toward the runway. I took a deep breath and smiled, feeling the exciting press of force against my chest as the plane built up speed, and then lifted off. I watched out the window, over the little girl’s head, as the airport steadily shrank from sight.

“My name’s Hetty,” she said, smoothing out the wrinkles of the safety manual and tucking it back into its pocket.

“That’s an unusual name.”

“I suppose it is nowadays.”

I grinned at the girl, trying not to laugh at her. She probably had older parents, the kind that didn’t have the energy to play with her. She was a miniature grown-up.

“I’m Chris,” I offered.

“That’s a very... usual name,” she said, smiling proudly at her wit. I laughed politely and shook her hand as she offered it.

“So how old are you?” I asked.

“I don’t really keep track anymore.”

I chuckled silently. “Yeah... after six, it all becomes kind of a blur.”

Hetty folded her hands neatly in her lap, her bear still tucked under one arm. It looked out of place there, as if a mere affectation of childhood. Its black button eyes glared at me. I shivered and looked across the aisle to see who was on my other side. A sixtyish man sat alone, his hands gripping the armrests tightly. The airsick bag peeked out of the pouch in front of him, and he seemed to be staring at it with intent. I decided I was satisfied with the neighbour I had been assigned.

“So,” I began again, “flying alone isn’t scary for you? I think I would have been pretty scared, at your age.”

The corners of her mouth turned up smugly, as if at some private joke. “I’m not scared,” she said, and I knew she wasn’t lying.

Soon the flight attendants began serving drinks. The man across the aisle, now looking a bit pale and sweaty, ordered straight vodka, and his hand trembled slightly as he took it.

“And for you?”

“Would a white wine be possible?” I asked.

“Certainly.” She poured the drink, and then moved on to the girl beside me. “What would you like to drink, sweetheart?”

“Apple juice, please. No ice.”

I watched the drink as it was passed in front of me—only a shade yellower than mine. Two tiny packets of pretzel sticks were dropped onto our tray tables, and the cart moved on. I let my mind settle into a haze, slowly sipping my drink.

“Let’s trade,” Hetty said.

I nursed the small plastic cup of apple juice mindlessly for a few minutes before it occurred to me as strange. I turned to face Hetty; she sipped contentedly.

“Wait... you shouldn’t be drinking that!” I exclaimed, wondering where my head had been when I agreed to the trade. “Here, take your juice.”

She glared at me darkly and took her cup back, handing me mine. “Tasted rather cheap anyway,” she muttered. “Give me your pretzels.”

I passed her the package and finished off my drink in a few gulps.

Half an hour into the flight, the man across the aisle used his airsick bag. I tried not to stare. Hetty giggled quietly into her hand. I turned to her, shocked. She beckoned me to come close. I leaned down to let her whisper in my ear:

“That man is going to die next Thursday.”

I swallowed hard, wishing I had another drink. And what happened to my pretzels? “Why would you say a thing like that?” I finally whispered back.

“Because it’s true.”

“Yeah?” I said in a challenging tone, starting to be angry with the girl. “And when am I going to die?”

She studied me in the same serious way she had studied the safety manual. “Not for a while. I don’t know exactly. But it’ll probably be cancer.” She smiled widely at my astonishment. “Do you think I’m strange?”

“To be honest, I do.”

“You just don’t understand me yet. But you’ll get there.” She lifted up her bear in both hands to face it eye-to-eye. “Just like Teddy. He understands me. He never complains.”

“Well, your bear is a little strange too,” I muttered, closing my eyes.

I woke when the pilot announced we were about to land. Hetty pulled out a little paper bag of mints from her skirt pocket and popped one into her mouth. She offered me one and I took it, sucking hard on it and swallowing frequently to clear my ears.

The plane touched down, taxied to its gate, and then the passengers began to unstrap themselves and gather their belongings. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and shoved my way into the crowded aisle. I was faintly aware of Hetty following me as I migrated with the others toward the baggage claim. I yawned silently, watching the hypnotic procession of luggage going round and round the carousel. Finally I located my duffel bag and grabbed it before it could pass me by. I turned to leave, but Hetty stopped me.

“Wait!” she called.

“Oh... sorry,” I murmured, glancing at my watch but not really seeing the time.

Hetty seized a tiny brown suitcase and set it down on the floor, opening it up to check its contents. “You never can trust those baggage handlers,” she explained. Satisfied, she stuffed her bear into the case and latched it shut. Taking its handle with one hand and offering me the other, she stared up at me expectantly. I took her hand and we left the baggage carousel.

The man who had been sick on the plane looked at me and then at Hetty, staring at her with wide eyes. I pulled her closer to my side. She grasped my hand tighter, and we walked together toward the exit.

* * *

This was originally written c. 2007, in answer to the hypothetical question, 'What if a child abducted an adult?'