A princess is a Rose in garden of Daisies;

One of a kind.

A prince is one Daisy in your garden;

There are many like it.

The rose catches the eye of many

in that garden.

But she may choose only one.

She chose me.

A princess rises;

A prince follows.

A love of always;

in a forest of birnam wood.

You are my princess;

I am your Prince.

And just as Hamilton loves Eliza;

I love you.

Happiest six months of my life, thank you for sticking around. <3

It wasn’t what you’d assumed it to be;

It was much more than a silly look or a grieving smile.

It wasn’t that you weren’t good enough, it’s that I wasn’t;

It was the choices I made that broke my sanity, not yours.

A day in the life of a dreaded decision is what hurt;

A meticulous plan, and a simple silver piece is what came of it;

A malicious glint and comforting words is what did it.

A shallow of blue and an ocean of red is what poured.

I called for your hand and you expertly declined;

I assumed you hated me, but who knew it was only because you were afraid.

I thought it was all my fault, that you hurt me, so I took it as a sign to flee;

I knew in reality that it had nothing to do with me, but it was already too late.

Your eyes terrified me in disgusted pleasure;

My hands were fearfully numb as you fiddled with my skin.

Things flashed, you smiled, I screamed, the walls laughed in wretched obscurity.

The sun fell and you shook, It’s all the same as it had been, so why are you scared?

It wasn’t what I’d assumed it to be;

It was much more than a frightened look or a painful grimace.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care, it’s that I wasn’t good enough.

It was the things you did to me that hurt you, not mine.

A day full of painful pleasure is what you wanted.

A disgusting decision and wrongful doings is what you chose.

A terrified glance and screaming is what you caused.

A bloody fight and terrified sobbing didn’t stop you.

You heard my pleas but shot me down with a second thought.

You loved me, but you didn’t know how bad it’d end up.

You knew what you were doing, that you hurt me, but you forced me to stay.

You knew it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t too late to tell me.

My eyes screamed yes, but I said no.

Your hands were steady as you slapped me.

Things flashed, you smiled, I screamed, the shadows screamed back.

The moon rose and I felt easy, nothing would ever be the same as it had been, so why am I not scared?

A day you were to meet the one you might have the privilege of spending the rest of your life with but the one thing that you feared all those years of waiting was to happen, yet you hadn’t a clue I’d actually go through with it. I spoke of it on occasion, because it terrified me to no end. I knew it was wrong, and I knew that I shouldn’t do it. It was a life, but what is a life? Nothing. Nothing as far as I’m concerned.

I hear the pleading in my head. The beating of my heart crashing into the walls of my chest. I feel the pain in their screams, but I also feel the rush of it all. The running, the hiding, the sound of them clawing at their necks. I’ve been called many things. Psychotic, a sociopath, messed up, wrong, a killer. But I don’t like to think of myself like that. I lead a relatively normal life. I drink tea in the mornings, clean in the afternoons, go to school, make a living, I even paint, and I earn cash for it.

I take a glance at the dates written on my wrists. There are two, one, which is today's date, and another, the same. The idea is simple, everyone is born with two dates written on either of their wrists, the day they meet the person they’re to spend the rest of their life with, and their death date. Now I suppose there’s room for concern where mine are set, but there’s really no reason. There’s a plan, and there’s an objectified way that it’s to play out and considering what’s written, my best guess is that it goes accordingly.

 Do you ever feel completely and utterly useless? You hurt the ones you love with simple words that to you, mean absolutely nothing in the end. They’re merely letters put together that shouldn’t even technically exist, that can completely shatter hopes and dreams, or create something much bigger than you thought possible. But it’s so small in comparison to what we live in. But how big is it really. Everyone and Everything you know is born and created to ultimately die and decompose into nothing. And yes, although the atoms that we’ve come to know might still remain long afterwards, it won’t matter. Anything you know now could be nothing the next day. Days..nights...all things we’ve created to make ourselves feel bigger than we actually are. Because, we’re nothing. Nothing is anything and anything is absolutely nothing. And there’s nothing we can do about it because in the grand scheme of things, anything we say and do isn’t real.

The words we speak often mean so much, but people often only speak them in regards to another person's emotional state, and it isn’t that it’s necessarily wrong, it’s just a little weird, because why say something that lasts “forever” when it doesn’t have any sort of backing to fall back on. I suppose it’s an interesting thought, but really it just destroys any kind of trust you could have had when presented in full. You say you love someone for example. But it’s only for the sake of not hurting them because you know how fragile they are inside. The things you say, the things you do, don’t mean anything to you, but why? Anything you could put a name to isn’t real. It’s a simple mind game so to say. Because anything that has a name on it, was scientifically become, and ultimately means nothing. That pain, it isn’t real, it’s your mind telling you to feel it, because if you don’t have it, you’ll disconnect yourself from the rest of the world. Worlds…

I’d like to think it’s where creativity comes from. Because it seems the more you question something, the more it seems to bring out in you, the more it makes you think. The more...it makes you want to just not be alive to see everything happen. Watch everyone walk through it without a real care. Without really knowing how they came to be, and without trying to understand what’s really going on. And some people do try, some people really do try to understand that big question, where did we come from? But they’ll never really know. People fight, and people die, people grieve, and people cry. But looking at it for what it is, destroys the fun in it. No matter how much you try to tell someone it doesn’t matter, you won’t care in a week, they don’t listen, they get angry, because they have that power. But how they got that power is a completely separate thing. They sort of gave it to themselves as a prize in which there was contest, but there was no clear winner, so they deemed it appropriate to present themselves with it.

Scorching ashes covered everything in sight, devouring any shred of hope left within the towns people. Screams echoed off every burning wall, cries came from children inside the fiery buildings begging for help from anyone, calling for their parents, who had long since jumped from the windows in hopes of saving themselves, or getting help from someone, anyone willing to help them and their spouses or children from burning to death.

The skies had been clear, children were laughing, the local church choir graced the town with their beautiful voices. Everyone was so happy, It was summer after all, you were considered crazy not to enjoy it.

Summer Holiday preparations were already underway at every shop and house in town. Children sang cheerful tunes in the park, raising money for local charities. But one person, one person walking among the shadows, had the ability to destroy everything with the snap of a finger.

One minute it was gumdrops and lollipops, the next, it was fire and corpses. There really wasn’t an inbetween. Though there was a girl, a girl whom everyone called Evangeline, not really having known where she’d come from. Her mother hardly ever appeared outside of the office, so Evangeline was always just wandering the streets on her own, memorizing the town in every way she could.

She’d never really spoken to anyone, she secluded herself from the population, it was actually quite sad. The only person she ever spoke to was a small boy named Matthew, they were the craziest duo anyone in Manchester had witnessed to that day. Evangeline had the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen, and a smile that could light up a town. Her blonde hair fell to her waist, and was always curled to perfection, whether it was natural or not, no one ever knew though, and they’d never live to know either.

6

Matthew had the strangest eyes anyone’d ever seen, they were a bright golden color that seemed so surreal, that almost everyone deemed it fake. Except for Evangeline, she either never noticed it, or just pushed it aside as another flaw that didn’t matter in the slightest. His hair was a deep brown that oddly resembled Evangeline’s in a weird twisted sort of way.

These two were the most unlikely pair you’d ever imagine, but they hardly ever left each others side until it was time to return home. But rumors spread, and townsfolk gossiped. People claimed every now and then that they’d seen Matthew and Evangeline roaming the streets at two, sometimes three in the morning, as if they were waiting for something to happen. Although no one ever spoke to the pair, and they never spoke to anyone, everyone always seemed so interested in them.

These two couldn’t be much over eight years old at the most, and yet they’d already learned that they would have to fend for themselves, especially in Manchester. But they were always laughing, and smiling at petty jokes either of them made about anything. But one day, it just stopped. Mathew came outside with a black eye and purple bruises up and down his arms, while Evangeline ceased wearing anything that flowed above the knees. Her hair was never curled, and she only wore sleeves that reached past her wrists. People said that they met up at the town center, looked at each other for a long while, never exchanging a word, and then disappeared. No one saw them for months, not until the day the war broke out.

It wasn’t a war with bombs, or cannons, or even weapons. It was war between the heros and the villains of the world. Heroes like Captain Z, and Silver Fire battled against villains like Red Genocide, and Bloody Disaster. No one like Superman or Wonder Woman existed, they were all fictional, and they could never survive a collision quite like that one.

It was all so sudden, why destroy a town full of such great people so that you could deal with your own problems? No one ever really understood what happened that day. But there was a man supposedly, that came out of nowhere, it was as if he’d never existed, and let all hell break loose. It’s not like he’d done anything major, but what he did was beyond anyone's comprehension. He simply reached for the sky and called out to god. He wanted to be saved from the hellish world he was in. Everyone was dumbstruck, a woman went up to him and she touched

his shoulder, but the strangest thing happened. She died.

Hell broke after that, it was as if someone opened the gates and let every evil thing out of them. Armies of the world's most evil villains assembled on the left, and heroes from every corner stood right. They all waited there and watched each other. Then, one from each side stepped forward and just stood there. At least an hour passed before they nodded and everyone flew in different directions, destroying everything in sight. Villains set fire to the chapels, and heros struck the villains with all the power they could muster up. Beams of Blue and Pink, Yellow and Purple bounced off every pillar and pole that they came in contact with.

Towns folk were sent running, some were caught in flames, and many were trapped in burning buildings with their children. The sky had gone from Blue to red in a matter of seconds. It was quite like World War III.

This was the day that Evangeline and Matthew returned. And it was also the day that they should have died. They were both dressed so formally, and had grown unrealistically. Evangeline looked ready for her wedding day, with her blonde hair secured in an elegant bun, white rose petals scattered around her, and a white gown that looked like it had taken years to perfect fell to the pavement, covering her entire body. Matthew looked no different. His hair was slicked back to perfection, not a strand out of place, with a white suit and tie to finish it off. Her piercing blue eyes shone brighter than anything he’d ever seen before. She was so beautiful, it was as if she was sent from heaven above. His Golden eyes brightened more than usual, his bruises had diminished to nothing and his smile had ceased to exist. It had been etched into a permanent frown, as had hers.

Although smoke surrounded the pair, and screams recollected every which way, the two were so focused on one another that nothing else seemed to matter. Balls of empty matter flew around them, and people screamed out in absolute terror, But Matthew and Evangeline ignored it all, and stood as if they were communicating telepathically. Which in an odd sense, they were.

Years passed, and people died, but the outbreak between the heros and the villains became known as the “The Second battle of Britain,” Many people grouped together to form

clans, while other tried to sacrifice themselves to the gods that they so horribly wished would save them from this wretched agony. But no one ever did. Evangeline and Matthew were never seen again. Not until the day a necklace was recovered, and a mother died several years later, did the two ever meet again.

The more the remaining townsfolk thought about it, the less they could remember about the two children. It was almost as if they had never existed.

31/12/11

11:59 P.M.

Martinique, France

“You’ve got about 60 seconds until you’re going to have to absolutely book it! Êtes-vous prêt?” I shot an incredulous glance at the beaming boy beside me.

“Non, I am not “prêt”, are you mad!” I shout with a trifling glare. I turn my eyes back towards my reflection, gripping the countertop with anxious hands.

"Plongeon." I mutter lowly.

“Oh who do you think it will be? I am sure she will be beau! Chaud even! I cannot wait, je me demande if she even lives in Martinique!” I shut my eyes in disdain as the boy continues to ramble on about his incredulous fantasies.

There is a blank piece of paper in front of me. It simply reads, 'Martinique, France; Nicolas Gendron, Bonjour mon amour! :)'

My heart beats furiously against my chest, “I am so nerveuse…” I whisper in the midst of his words. I shut my eyes and breathe. There is a low beep. The countdown begins. Dix.

“Oh mon Dieu, it is so close...I cannot believe it.” Neuf.

I scoff in incredulous belief. Huit.

My fists clench involuntarily, I smile. Sept.

He laughs, clicking his shoes against the ground. Six.

“Prêt?” He whispers. Cinq.

“Non,” I chuckle. Quatre.

Prêt… Trois.

Ensemble… Deux.

Aller. Un.

“Bonne chance!” The ghostly reminiscence of the boy's words are lost as I open my eyes. I am not in my bathroom in front of that mirror. I am sitting in front of des feutres. My breathing is ragged, and the feeling of a new body is exhilarating.

My hands are pinned to my chest...non...à mon cœur. I am holding a soft piece of Papier amalfi...this paper is very beautiful, expensive. I look at these hands...they are rugueux, they are doux, smooth, big...chaud...not a woman’s...there is a ring on my finger...c'est adorable.

My eyes take a moment to take in my surroundings…silk-like curtained windows...the architecture of this place is beau...rustique. I look to the paper in front of me. It has few words, but one catches my eye the most, 'Arrivederci.' I do not know very much Italian...But I do know the word for au revoir. And for bonjour. And au revoir was the last word I expected to see. There is a name, a providence, and a short note. The paper is slightly damp. I reach to rub my eyes...they are wet. The paper reads as follows;

My name is Ivan Mazzanti, you are in Sicily, Italy, arrivederci amore mio. Please write something...mi piacerebbe incontrarti...in bocca al lupo.

‘Ivan…Certainement pas une femme’ I chuckle. It’s a light sound, but broken. There is no light aside from the dim shadow of a rose candle. Moonlight streams in, slicing the paper in half. It creates a luminescent atmosphere.

Ivan, we will meet, I will travel as far as I must. I do not want you to say au revoir, I want you to say bonjour, and je t’aime mon cher. My address is 97200 Fort-De-France, I hope you like the loo…

Amour, Nicolas.

I stand. The feeling of these dark surroundings...It feels as if someone watches me. I spin around, there is a door. It’s old, there is no denying that. But, it just adds to the utter perfection. Before I can fully understand it, the door is open, it calls for me. Ivan...venire…

“Je ne suis pas Ivan,” I whisper. The sound is comforting. It sounds of...how you say...Ensoleillement...Sunshine. It is light, it is beautiful. I move forward, I am scared, I do not want to go. But it calls for my hand, it is not up for me. It is for him. “Je t'en prie, non…”

“Ivan...Venire…” My body convulses as I move forward...non...My hands shake. I am done...it watches me, I feel the eyes. Accueil… His heart...it beats furiously against his chest...why does it frighten me so. J'ai peur…

Venire.

“Non!” I scream, but nothing comes of it, my feet move without me, and yet I still follow, so intrigued. The door...It is so beautiful. And the dark...It is so inviting...je n'ai pas peur….Or at least...that’s what I tell myself.

When does it end? It can’t be much longer...Or is this how it is to end, Est-ce ainsi que je dois aller...Non, there is no way.

Ivan...His name, it speaks of religion...you would...you would think he would be safe, that this would not occur. But, maybe he is no good, Peut-être qu'il est mauvais… The moon seems to do nothing but swallow up the light, it is an odd feeling, because, as I look to the open door, something watches me, it does not breathe, it is hungry…But I am calm, Je me sens à l'aise. Mais pourquoi?

I still hold the note from Ivan, I do not know when I picked it up. But I raise it to my heart, and I walk forward, because, I can do nothing else, I do not wish to resist, “La curiosité a tué le chat”, after all, right?

‘Venire…’

Oui, maîtriser…

I feel him inside of me, he screams, but he does not hold the control that I do. His body, It is mine, the feeling of it all is so insanely exhilarating, I cannot contain myself, I want to make it through that door, it is so dark, the darkness...it yearns for him, it calls for him, he doesn’t wish to face it. He is frightened. “Moi aussi, mon doux,” I whisper to him. It doesn’t calm him in the slightest, but it numbs the burning sensation in my fingers. He backs away, is this your way of giving up?

It is so close, the darkness, I can feel it reaching for me, feel it reaching for my heart. And yet, I am calm, but I am mad. Why does it yearn for the one that I am meant to be with? Or are we meant to fall together?

‘Non si deve andare più vicino, Nicolas,’ He speaks, but I do not understand the words, but they drip with such intensity, and such fear. I stop, dead in my tracks. It is not my decision, it tells me to, a sense of something I’ve never felt before washes over me.

I shut my eyes and lower my head, the pressure in my chest is gone…’Ivan where have you gone off to?’ I listen...all I hear is the sound of my breath, and a beat that does not belong to me. I feel something wet and warm roll down my cheek. I do not feel that urge to cry, it is not my will. He is here, with me. But he has left all the same...I feel so much, and yet my head is clear, but...but I know, I know what I am here for.

I feel something behind me, looming highly over my shoulder...it sends shivers down my spine, ‘Maintenant ou jamais’ His body, it shakes, and I have lost it...I have lost the control but only for a moment. But in that moment, he tries to run, I feel it in my bones, but it is time, time to face your fears. But it is too late for that isn’t it.

I feel a smile crawl to my lips...yes, mes lèvres. It is no longer his. It took him, silly Ivan...we could have had a life together. We could have grown, how you say, contento. But…I turn to the side, and open my eyes. There is no light. The moon seems to have disparu. But I see it, out of the corner...it is so grand...it swallows everything...my jaw quivers. Je suis seul dans ce. Connard.

“Nicholas…” I hear it whisper into my ear, so seductively. It is like that of a woman. The power of seduction will surely be the end of me. I turn to face it. “Venire…” It wanted him. My cheeks burn in anticipation, this must be it. This must be what I was so ready for. Because I am.

“Je Vais! Je Vais! Je viendrais!” The excitement is overwhelming as I lurch forward. I feel it consume me, but it hurts...non non non...ça fait mal! I moan in agony, I screech. It is puny. It is too much, I can’t but...I must. Pour Ivan. L'obscurité. I am not so prepared as to die...but…

“Troppo tardi,” it rumbles. I feel myself give out...but I don’t feel mon amour.

“Oui, Trop tard, en effet.” and just like that, it is gone. And I feel nothing.

Whirling gases break away together.

Rocks burn through planetary atmospheres.

Colors explode in newfound glory.

Stars burst in unsatisfied anger.

A planet of apes survives.

“Two hundred and six years I waited. Two hundred and six god damned years. I was poked, I was prodded, mismatched, redesigned, manipulated, eaten from the inside out by fucking wasps! And still they glowed with undesirable pleasure, those things! I scream? I die. Speak? Torn apart. I move out of order? I was too afraid.”

“A light, a bright light, a blinding bright white light. Then I was encased by utter blackness. The sound of pressure being released, and a great crash that seemed to come from every which direction. And then a voice, “Simulation Complete.”

“A dim blue light blinked, black, blue, black, blue. “Simulation complete.””

“Another crash. Bustling, screaming. My heart, although filled to its peak with adrenaline, didn’t beat. I was petrified. I moved slowly to the light. A pounding came before I had the chance though. A voice, a voice filled to the brim with anxiety shouted something in a language I couldn’t wrap my head around, it’s not like it scared me, it just surprised me was all. So I ignored it. It didn’t last long. Because as soon as I slammed my hand down on that blue light, the door opened. sunlight flooded into a room. A room that I didn’t remember. Not the room I’d been in.”

“Everything was silent for what felt like hours, I hadn’t been scared of the voice, and I still wasn’t. But...two hundred years is a long time, and to see what I saw, it should’ve killed me. But I wasn’t allowed to die. So I walked to the door. Outside was a man, an old man. Grayed hair, wrinkles absolutely demolishing him, skin hanging loosely on his arms, cheeks, legs, you name it. He looked at me with worry. Then surprise. And finally anger. I didn’t have time to say a damn thing before he lunged for me, he looked puny, but he wasn’t. I couldn’t say now whether or not he was human, but his eyes were blue, blue like the light. But they were glazed over, he couldn’t see. He couldn’t see. I fell as he gutted into me, I must’ve hit my head, but I couldn’t tell you now.”

“He was one of those things. I didn’t remember what he was supposed to look like. But I knew what it was. I don’t know if they were human. But I do know that, looking back on it, there’s something that I must’ve missed.”

“I grunted and kicked, but he took me. Took me like I was a doll. “矿,” he said. And I don’t have a fucking clue what it meant, but he scooped me up and took me somewhere. I don’t remember exactly what happened after that, aside from the the fact that I’m here now. But, it’s something. I still have the scars from the operations. Stomach, back, neck, cheeks, arms. Every inch of my body was devoured by them. But I guess it’s over.” I took a deep breath and looked down at the paper in front of me. There was only thing written, but it oversaw the entire page. 矿. “So I looked it up. It meant, Mine, in Mandarin. I haven’t seen him since. But, I know what he is from that one word. And it wasn’t the last time I’d ever see him again. Because I know for certain, It wasn’t real. The scars weren’t there when I pulled up my shirt. And the memories are fading. But I’m still here, aren’t I?”