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by Jean Booth


  She laughed, running from me, as she knew the routine. I chased her around the living room before tackling her. I had her pinned with her shirt pulled to expose her belly and she screeched in anticipation.

  “Shh. Your mom is trying to sleep.” I said in a loud whisper with a big grin on my face. I lowered my head to her belly and blew raspberries until her shrieking giggles became too loud.

  She helped me unpack while her mom slept. I gave her the cotton dresses I’d found, the sarong pants I knew she’d find just crazy enough to love, and the seashell jewelry. She spent a few hours quietly looking at all the stuff I’d collected for her and her mom while I relaxed. It was peaceful; although I couldn’t remember a time I’d been more exhausted. I found myself dozing on and off while Ash played with her treasures. Neither one of us realized that Katie had left for work until she’d been gone for an hour. I was really concerned, as she’d never left the house without saying goodbye to us.

  “Did something happen with your mom this week, Ash?”

  “Nope. We went to the zoo, and up to Tahoe to go swimming. She’s fine. Are you gonna take me for ice cream? I’m starving.” She bounced out of the room with more energy than one person should ever have, leaving me with no choice but to follow.

  “AUNT TASH, will you tell me a story? I can’t sleep.”

  “Of course you can’t, you ate about five pounds of ice cream. Do you want one of your books?” I grinned at her as I got up from the couch to follow her to her room.

  “No, one of your stories,” she said as she wiggled under the covers with Bear next to her.

  “I thought you hated my stories,” I said as I snuggled next to her in my story seat.

  “You promised to have a good one made up when you got back. You’re back now and Bear wants a story. You owe me, and it had better be good!” She crossed her arms in a mock pout and I couldn’t help but laugh at her. I reached over and tickled her. She was a balm to my frayed existence. I decided I’d try to tell her about soul mates.

  “All right, settle down. Ready?” At her eager nod, I smiled and curled up next to her. I snuggled her protectively under my arm while I talked and stroked her hair. She closed her eyes and listened. It was our tradition, and one I was glad to resume.

  “Once upon a time, there was a soul. It was happy and content to play in the spray of water from a fountain, reflecting light into rainbows. It had never known pain, or sadness, only joy and contentment. This soul was pure, innocent, and full of love. One day an evil wizard came by and watched the soul. He was so jealous of its happiness that he contrived a spell that tore the soul in half. The wizard thought that the soul should know the pain of the loneliness that he felt, and it would amuse him to place the two pieces of soul into two separate beings.

  “One piece was placed into a beautiful young princess, and the other was put into a handsome farmer on a magical island. Years went by, and the soul learned sadness. The princess felt like she was missing something, but didn’t know what it was. She was very sad and lonely, despite being surrounded by people who loved and cherished her. She’d heard stories about soul mates, and how if you find yours, you’re whole again, and she wished for that on the evening star every night. Her father had arranged for her to marry a duke, so she knew time was running out to find her soul’s other half.

  “The night before the wedding was supposed to take place, the princess was making her wish. So intent was she in wishing to find her soul mate, she didn’t hear the intruder until it was too late. She was captured and taken to a magical hidden island by a very bad man. He was an evil prince who wanted the beautiful princess all to himself. He’d heard of her beauty and thought he deserved to have the most beautiful princess as his bride. He was a very selfish man.

  “The princess was very cunning, a trait that she hid behind her beauty. She outsmarted the evil prince and managed to escape his castle. She found her way to a small farm, deciding to hide herself in the hayfield until the evil prince passed by. The farmer was tending to his flock when he saw the girl trying to hide in his field. The moment their eyes met, their souls recognized each other and melded to become one again. The broken soul was happy for the first time since the evil wizard played his horrible trick.

  “Alas, in a cruel twist of fate, the princess was not allowed to stay on the island. For if she was found, the selfish prince would kill her and her mate. Her mate couldn’t return with her to her lands because there was powerful magic that prevented people who were born on the island from ever leaving. Because she was not born there, she could leave, knowing that her soul mate was safe and protected.

  “With a heavy heart, she made the decision to leave and made her way back to her land. She married the duke that her father wanted her to, thereby destroying the hopes of the selfish prince. She lived out her days as happy as she was able to be, hoping that someday it would be safe for her to return to her soul mate.” I kissed Ashlyn on the forehead as I finished the story. I hadn’t really meant to tell her that story. I’d wanted it to be happy so that she’d want to find her mate. She’d been quiet for quite a while, and I hoped that she had fallen asleep. I started to slide out of her room when she spoke.

  “Aunt Tash?”

  “Yeah, sugar?”

  “That story still sucked. It wasn’t a very happy story at all. Fairy tales are supposed to have happy endings. You must miss Reef really bad.”

  “Who?” My heart skipped a beat. How on earth did she know about him? I hadn’t been able to talk about him to anyone since I’d gotten back. I barely heard her response over the thudding in my chest.

  “You know, Reef, that name you said when you were taking a nap. He has a weird name. You said lots of weird words when you were asleep, but mostly Reef. Who is he?”

  “He’s just a person I dream about. It is getting late Ash, and you have school tomorrow. Sleep now. I love you,” I said through the pain crushing my chest.

  “What does meow axo mamada mean?” Her face scrunched up as she said it, and she completely butchered the language, but I understood what she was asking me. She couldn’t know how she was tearing me apart. I’d been feeling off all day, but her questions were destroying all the control I’d built up. I clenched my hands into fists to control the tremors and the pain wracking through my body. I wanted to share him with someone, but she was too young and I still wasn’t able to talk about it.

  “It means my beloved angel. Now, please, go to sleep, Ash. Goodnight.” My voice was quiet and rough with emotion as I kissed her forehead again.

  “Aunt Tash, I’m sorry you lost your angel,” she said with a yawn when I reached the door.

  “Me too, Ashlyn, me too,” I whispered past the lump in my throat. I barely made it to my room before I collapsed. I silently and tearlessly wept for everything I’d lost. I missed him so much. I thought about everything that had happened in the past week. It was overwhelming.

  The pain came so suddenly and so hard that I practically passed out. I barely made it to my trash bin before I threw up. My skin was burning, I felt like I was on fire. For some reason, I sensed a desperate need to be outside. I ran to the back door and into the brush at the base of the mountain, grateful that we lived far enough out of the city that our neighbors wouldn’t see me in my pajamas. My entire body hurt, my skin itched and felt stretched too thin. I felt like I was too big to be contained in such flimsy material as my own skin. Sweat was pouring from my body, my hair sticking to my neck. I didn’t know what was going on, all I knew was pain. It went all the way to my core.

  “Aunt Tash, are you out here? I heard a noise and saw the puke in your room. Are you feeling okay? You can have Bear tonight. He always makes me feel better. Aunt Tash?” I heard Ashlyn walking toward me but knew she couldn’t be near me now or I’d hurt her. I didn’t know how I knew this, but I did. I feared for her safety, both with and without me.

  “Go back inside and call your mom. Tell her I’m sick and she needs to come home. Do not leave
the house for any reason. Please, Ash, listen to me,” I croaked out with a voice that felt and sounded like I’d been swallowing glass. I heard her footsteps run back to the house and the slam of the back door. I prayed we’d both be okay, although it felt like I was dying.

  Suddenly I felt my bones pop and crack, throwing me to the ground. I panted as I tried to contain the screams. My skin rippled as an unseen force rubbed against it from the inside. I wanted to scream with the pain, but didn’t dare risk having Ashlyn come back out here. I struggled to maintain consciousness. My hands grew in front of my face, the palms doubling in size as my fingers shrank back into talons. I finally understood what was happening. I was changing, like Raif.

  Dear God, it hurt.

  My arms and legs followed my hands, the bones popping, muscles reforming. I curled up on myself in pain. I could feel my insides changing into my new form. I kept my eyes and mouth shut until the force of the change made it impossible. I felt my face elongate and teeth sharpen. My skin finally ruptured into a mass of tawny fur and I knew I was done. The growl that escaped my throat confirmed that I’d officially changed.

  JEAN BOOTH was born in Las Vegas, Nevada on a sweltering summer night. She’s spent most of her life in the midwest, alternating between Michigan, Minnesota and Florida before returning to her roots to settle down with a husband and cats. She, along with those that know her, affectionately refer to her as “The Crazy Cat Lady.” She’s worked in healthcare for the entirety of her adult life and was challenged in 2010 to finally start writing the stories that live in her head. When not writing, Jean enjoys cruising on the back of her motorcycle with her husband next to her. She’s an avid reader, reading everything and anything fiction. She’s also considered to be extremely “crafty,” making everything from clothing to jewelry to painting.

 

 

 


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