I pick

Exile !

for I must

enter in-

to form &

Experience...

the where to where

& whether Twas

long or short...?

...what character

strength or flaw

broke the Key...

who betrayed

our Hero !

& what the

mortal saved

...from dark

to Grace &

with what

Expression,

at or below

the surface

was that

body or

its work

traced?

06.23.2023

Judging by the Title challenge @Celeben

Exile. Not in the form you might think. I’m not on a deserted island or locked away in a tower, but I have been exiled. Exiled by my friends and my enemies. The worst kind of exile. The kind where everyone has made a mutual agreement to hate you even though you did nothing! Or, at least, you wish you had done nothing. You see it wasn’t really my fault. I was just doing what I had to do. At my old school, nobody liked me. I was a nobody. I decided that at my new school, that wasn’t going to happen. I wanted to be somebody. I dressed nicely, talked nicely, and introduced myself to as many people as I could find, but it made no difference. I was still alone. No one talked to me. No one invited me over to their house. No one asked me to sit with them at their lunch table. I thought all hope was lost, that was until the most popular girl in the school wanted to talk to me. She had noticed that I wanted to be popular, so she made me an offer. She would help me make a ton of friends and become popular, and in return, I would tell her everything I found out from those friends. I would get details about their personal lives, including any gossip or information that could be used as a sort of blackmail, and report it back to her. It felt a little wrong, but I had wanted that for so long. I decided to take her up on her offer. So I went along with it for a little while, but once I became real friends with all of them, it felt more and more wrong to basically sell their information. Of course eventually my conscience got the worst of me, and I had to stop. In response to my quitting. The popular girl decided to make everyone know what I had been doing. As a result of all that coming to light, my friends hated me and my enemies hated me. so here we are. I’m alone once again. Just like I was before. Looks like that got me nowhere. It’s going to be hard, but I know what the right thing to do is. I have to apologize to all my friend. I know they will forgive me, because they‘re good friends. I just have to trust them. Well, here goes nothing.

The love of a mortal, so fragile and frail,

A flickering flame, a fleeting tale.

It burns so bright, but oh so brief,

A love that's born, but brings so much grief.

Their hearts so open, they love so free,

A love that's pure, a sight to see.

But time is cruel, and life so short,

Their love, a memory, a fading thought.

Yet envy seeps, through immortal veins,

For humans love, without any chains.

Their hearts ablaze, with a passion so true,

A love that lasts, forever anew.

To feel so deeply, and love so strong,

A mortal's love, it doesn't belong.

But oh, how we long, to love like they do,

A love that's pure, and forever true.

So mock their love, we may indeed,

But envy lingers, like a desperate need.

For the love of a mortal, may be brief,

But it burns so bright, a sight to behold, a relief.

I don't know how you did it but you found me. And I haven't been the same since.

I am nothing but the traces of a long-forgotten deity; the whispers of a religion lost to bloodshed and time. I know not where I am from or who I once took care of. But somehow, you found me. You gave me name and shape, turned me to more than a whisper in the trees.

Because of you, I am.

You are the reason I am whole.

So how could I not love you? And how could it not hurt me even more that this will not last, young one?

I had forgotten, for too long, how wonderful it was to be seen. And then you gazed into the depths of me with your dark eyes and made me a home for your prayers, your praises, your dearest sorrows. I have kept them. Labelled, memorised down to the very colour of the shoes you wore, placed carefully with the utmost reverence beside my heart.

But this will never last.

You will die, my saviour.

And I will fade away along with you.

But while we live, you and I, promise me this. That you will never leave me. That you will never stop gazing out into the aether for me with those lost, pretty eyes. I may be your deity but beneath, all I am is your humbled servant. You have my utmost devotion - I am tied to you; mind body and soul. There is no me without your existence.

And somewhere along the line, young one, it pains me to think that perhaps I may worship you just as much as you do me.

It is not supposed to be this way. Is it? I do not know the way of the gods of this age or any. I have always been on my own. I have been non-existent for as long as I can remember. You breathed life to me. You returned me here. I live for you. I am for your sake, alone.

Forgive me if this is not the way your gods treat their charges. You are the first person I've cared for in a long time and the devotion I have for you... It makes me feel like I am your child, your mother and father, your lover, sibling and friend.

Yet, I believe you are deserving of better than a guardian with no sense of self. I suppose this is why you may have chosen me. I cannot say for certain. But you did. Me of all the faiths in the world. You put your trust in me. You give me everything in you, hoping for the barest of kindness in return.

You are mine, then.

And I am yours, my little, mortal divinity.

For as long as you will have me. For as long as you may last.

Bert placed the needle slowly on the record and turned with the two saucers of tea towards his guest. Eugenia sat poised on the hideous floral couch with an almost automated smirk on her face. Bert placed the caucer down in front of her and smiled. "I know that the purple one is your favourite."

"You know me so well," Eugenia said though her voice cracked into a burlier voice halfway through. "You're so smart."

Bert smiled at the ground and sat across from Eugenia. She crossed her legs and tapped her finger into the tea. "It's imported Oolong from Siam. Should be 110.3 degrees, just how you like it. I measured it myself."

"Siam. It used to be called China before the collapse," Eugenia rattled off. Her normal voice had returned. "People adopted babies from there in the 1960s when the war began."

Bert looked at the wood-panneled walls. His parents smiled at him in greyscale, holding his older sister, who was sucking her fist and staring off-camera. It needed dusting. "Darling, you know I cannot give you children. It's against the rules."

"I'm enhanced for childbearing. I checked."

"Genie," Bert murmured. The record was playing an old song from the fifties, the one his brother was conceived to. "We can't raise a baby together."

"There is no anatomical reason we cannot."

"You don't understand."

"Help me understand." Eugenia sounded forceful. Bert put his saucer down and stood. He picked up a thick, dusty photo album from the shelf and sat next to Eugenia on the couch. Resting the album on their touching thighs, he opened the book to the page of his older sister, sitting in a diaper on the floral couch holding an antique rattle in her mouth. Bert glanced at Eugenia who was running her finger gently along the jaundiced edge of the picture. The next one was of Bert, his brother, and his younger sister opening Christmas gifts next to the fireplace. His father sat on the floral couch cradling a half-drank six pack of beer in his hand.

He flipped the page to a snowy day where he and his mother were making a lopsided snowman. The blue mittens that were two sizes too big were soaked with snow, and his mother wore pants that were too short. Bert eyed Eugenia again. She was still mesmerized by the pictures, though her facial expression had not changed.

"What are you thinking?"

"You were so little," Eugenia said with a hint of joy in her voice. "I want a little human that looks like you."

Bert smirked a little. "That's why we can't have one."

"What?" she whispered. Her face had fallen and she looked shocked.

"My children cannot have a sex robot for a mother."

"A--"Eugenia's mouth hung for a minute then she stiffened. "Yes sir."

"You'll just never be emotional enough." Bert looked at the picture of his mother, rubbing his index finger gently down her hair. "My mother knew our every need. She just knew. You weren't built for that. You're enhanced for it, but you'll never be there emotionally for human children. It'll be like... well... a robot is raising them."

Eugenia sat stiffly. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "You took out my fertility chip." She whispered after a long time.

"We don't need to have children. I'm fifty-seven, Genie. I won't always be there to help you raise a child. Plus, we cannot create a life together. It wouldn't even look like you. It would basically be all mine and an anonymous donor."

"Was it when I was sleeping?"

"Darling, you know--"

Eugenia stood and picked up both saucers without another word. "Dinner will be in ten," she murmured so he couldn't hear the sadness in her voice.

Exile (the back of the book)

Sixteen-year-old Greyer Mills has been running out of time. She has been running in general. She has been running all her life. Rejected at birth from a community of control and damnation, she has never belonged.

Due to her mother's ill health and father’s perjury, she would never find solace. A maiden bewitched can do only one thing…rebel.

When things go sour, Greyer has to run. She ran and never looked back for the girl who is exiled can never return unless she has found Jade Stone of Talgatha. But is there enough reason for Greyer to return?

In the promise lies her redemption. In a prophecy lies her fate but not all is what it seems for words cannot be trusted.

Greyer’s journey for redemption will not prove in a vain. The story will not unravel the way you think for a prophecy of a witch cannot hold true in the light of a pure heart.

Brief Synopsis: During the 17th Century, a "comfort woman" named Beatrice exiles to a small shack in the woods with her two young children after being accused as a witch. Over the course of their stay they encounter several demonic figures in the form of different animals such as a snake and an eagle. Because of this Beatrice increasingly starts to become paranoid, believing that her two children are "demonic".

Ending: Beatrice is burned inside the shack by the townspeople who had recently discovered her whereabouts.

*I'd think this would be a short novel consisting of less than 200 pages.

Bubblegum. Cherry pop. Go to the hop.

--Beach Teen Vimo

A hit movie.

Over fifty years ago!-- it was fifteen. Though it fit prep school, stylish queen of her clique and in fact the institution Margo Wentworth. Rich Dad, no-spend limit credit cards, the coolest friends, the hottest boyfriend she had it all.

"Don't be jealous sister of mine. Also do not look at me, speak to me, do NOT dare say we know each other at school."

Junior Year brought a pair-- finally-- Prom, ugh and frumpy half-sister Tanya. Some Mexican flavored affair or some other place with hot sauce and awful ponchos, Margo didn't have to know and she didn't want to. She just wasn't going to be associated with cleft lip, buggy glasses and whatever the deal was with her "sensitive ears." Tanya was far from deaf!

Until it came out that she was set to repeat the year! And getting another Asian was not going to be acceptable this year. Did Margo mention darling sister was a snitch? Posed with a study partner that never bothered to speak (or moisturize) she says one thing that-- sticks.

"You have dyslexia! And maybe some kind of developing neurosis but that may simply be me, you are very mean. It's like super obvious."

Is there anything more treacherous?

As you try to understand if you can have it both ways,

Relief, hope and an ecstatic mind when you choose to open the door, so perilous,

But when you're pushed out, hatred in a betrayed soul stays.

The embodiment of a sarcastic conclusion,

When your cage has the same traits as liberty,

When you go, guided by your own voice, the breeze is your salvation,

Otherwise, air turn to stone, ironically.

Cease freedom in a confined space on a time you chose,

And the door you opened is the escape to your fight.

But if it shuttered your destiny as it closed,

Intangible chains will forever darker your sight.

Everything you've cherished is now behind,

When you had to let them crook your lifeline.

This path has been set out for you and you're broken,

But was it you fault they decided for your portrait to be frozen?

And now that you're gone it all revolves around your absence,

Who could tell who you were before it all became intense?

Who would risk unveiling something and stop your oversight ?

You, who was left behind the door disappeared into the night.

A quest through unknown lands, a search through your own mind, in struggle.

A redemption through your own mistakes, through your regrets, in exile.