The Girl by the Sea.

There once was a girl who lived with her fathers by the sea. 

High on the cliffs, the sights, sounds, and smells were all she knew. 

for 19 years she lived by those cliffs and had cherished each element of them. 

A year ago, everything changed this perspective. The love she once held was robbed from her, and they no longer held her captive in awe and wonder. These days the crashing of the waves was the impending doom she held in her heart, the feeling of one day being washed away with the rocks, swallowed up and forgotten.

 She wouldn’t go down to the beach anymore or step foot in town, she only ever staked it out. Taking notes and jotting down each notice of deterioration along with wave currents and signs of life (or death). 

Her father knew well of her fear and never tried coaxing her out of it, he knew what grew the fear, what held its importance. He saw her books of notes and empty cups in the cozy window spot she made her new home. It had come as no surprise to him. Perhaps it brought comfort knowing this is how she held herself together. He envied her in that regard, he wasn’t sure he had been doing the work to cope.  

It hadn’t always been like this. When she was younger she would embrace the sea air and take day trips around the cliffs, going down to the beaches, taking it all in while breathing in the fresh breeze, and begging for the sun’s warmth on her face. Those were different times and it felt like an eternity since she even held a smile on her face, a smile that once lit up her eyes. He longed to see her happiness. To share in that happiness and connection. These days it was minimal eye contact and one-worded answers over dinner. 

This surely would all be temporary, right? The lapse in connection, the silent dinners, the disconnection from each other. 

Could a pair spend the rest of their lives disconnected from one another? This home, which was once warm and inviting, lively and alive, was now a space full of sorrow and two hurting souls. 

   Each day at 9 o'clock she gathered her things. Notebooks and pen, binoculars, cup of tea, extra pens, camera, and a hoard of snacks to sit down for her first shift of observations. Her father would bring her anything she needed from town, and since ghosting her friends along with a budding social life, she needed nothing else. Everything was right here for her, in the home she would one day collapse into the sea with. 

This morning there were no new developments, the cliff birds were still guarding their eggs awaiting a new family, the waves were lower this early and the erosion wasn’t getting any worse. Their house was farther up than the waves could ever reach but sat so close to the edge, that time would only be on their side for so long. She wanted to have a calculated guess for when it would all go awry. Having a date for her death was ideal, and so each day it was the same. She jotted anything down of note. When a new ship went by, so she recorded the exact time, along with the direction it headed. She noted each and every person she saw down on the beach. Peeking at them with her binoculars, she noted what they wore that day, what time they were down there, their activity and when they left. Always checking the tide schedule and keeping an eye out for sharks, dolphins, whales and any other life-forms she could see. 

Around 1:30 she would take a lunch break, quickly going to the kitchen to make a bowl of noodles or a heavy portion of hashbrowns and eggs. And quickly she would return to the seat at the window-sill. Around 4:45 in the afternoon, her father would return from work, always walking in with an armful of groceries, and whatever ingredients he was craving for dinner that day. Most nights they would sit at the table, eating silently while her mind was always on the cliffs. 

  In the first 5 months, she stopped giving him her daily notes. She didn’t think he’d want to hear, and he quickly realized she was getting more comfortable with this routine, instead of it being a temporary coping mechanism. Her doctor assured him everyone grieves in their own way, but he wanted more than anything for her to leave that spot and come back to him. She never spoke of her true intention behind it, how it wasn’t just an obsession with “the spot” but something more impending. 

After dinner he began to do the washing and she quickly got back for her night watch. This had become her favorite part of the day, the vast darkness of it all held a special place in her heart. The sheer terror of it all, how easy it would be to get lost in it. She couldn’t see into the beach far, only the stunning moon reflecting off the water and the small batch of waves going in and out of the cove. On a cloudy night she could hardly see the beaches at all. She debated asking her father for a pair of night vision goggles, but was unsure if they would be helpful from so high up. 

She pulled out her “night-life” log book, and began jotting a few notes into it. There had only been a few night-fishing boats visible and no movement or activity on the beach. The warm fire behind her began to make her feel drowsy, the heat on her back felt good after a day of sitting slightly hunched over staring into her binoculars. Her father lay on the couch about 10 feet away reading a book, enjoying the sleepiness of the fire as well. Nights like these were her favorite. She didn’t know how to tell him, but his presence and acceptance even if he didn’t understand, were just what she needed. He never pried, but some days she wished he would. Most days she would’ve said nothing, but days like this when she especially missed how things were, she wished he would ask, so she could get it all out. The feelings of impending doom, the fear of leaving the window in case she missed anything. The fear she felt when he left for work every day, the unsure-ness of it all and the terror she felt being so distant from him. She would never say these things on her own, but if he had asked that evening, she would let it all free from her chest. Yell it if she had to, it was beginning to get too heavy for her. 

As the hour got later, she slowly began to fall asleep in her window nest. 

  A couple of hours had passed and she found herself startled awake from a nightmare. Sitting straight up she looked over and saw her father asleep on the couch, his book falling from his hand onto the floor. Relieved, she walked over and took it from him. Placing a bookmark in it and gently covering him with a blanket. The fire was beginning to dim, so she added a few more logs and stoked it with the poker. It soon began to catch fire and warm the room once more. She stood there staring into the center of its flame, wondering what time it was and how long she had been asleep. No longer tired, the dream made her wish she would never sleep again. She faded into the bright flame and began to fall into the thought of the dream. Except it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory that she wished she could forget. It was a memory of that night, the night that devastated her world. 

She quickly shook her head and walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She began rummaging through the fridge for a little snack, 1:37am, the stove illuminated. She rubbed her eyes and gently leaned against the counter waiting for the kettle to do its thing. She wondered what the day would bring, would she get more sleep or was she up for the remainder. She hardly slept these days and was beginning to feel restless, but the need for routine was imminent. So she made her cup of tea and went back to the window spot. Her father didn’t stir once and she began to observe him, the deepening lines in his face and the grays in his hair. Dark black with generous patches of gray and white, she always envied the coloring in it and wished she had his head of hair. He looked older in the light of the fire, you could see how much the last year had taken from him. She wondered how much the last year showed up on her face, if the lines around her eyes had grown into crows-feet from squinting into binoculars all day. Had the once prominent smile lines around her mouth faded? She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled. A smile that she felt in her soul or even had a good belly laugh. She missed being happy and care-free.

She stood up and walked to the fire, threw a few more logs in and began pacing the room. She held herself tightly, slightly chewing at the skin on her newest hang-nail, it seems I won’t be getting more sleep tonight. The feeling of horror the dream left was still coursing through her nervous system and she would be on alert until the cortisol wore her out. She hadn’t had a night terror since the first month after the incident. Why tonight? Nothing unusual had happened that day, no one and nothing had upset or disturbed her. So why now, why was her mind remembering it all over again. She must have been pacing for 30 minutes when she finally snapped out of it. Her father was still snuggled on the couch, this time his back to the fire. At least one of us is peaceful right now. She admired how stoic he looked, even curled up on the couch. He seems to be doing better, how is he holding himself together so well? she thought. After more pacing and cuticle biting she began feeling the drowsiness return to her body and went to lay in her window-nest. She felt the safety of the present moment, the warmth of the fire, and her father asleep on the couch. The coziness of this hugged her like a blanket as she drifted off. 

   The sun was gentle when it kissed her face early the next morning, when she awoke she felt as if she'd finally caught up on sleep. Her body was less stiff than it had been when she was jolted awake earlier that morning, as she sat up to stretch she noticed her father was still asleep on the couch. She looked at the clock on the wall and it was barely past 9. How odd, shouldn’t he be at work already? she thought to herself. 

Beginning a quick observation of the cliffs and beach, she jotted down the sight of a young boy and an older girl, they were by the water with a picnic blanket near them, and a kite in hand. Watching them closely she realized she envied them. She couldn’t remember the last time she flew a kite, let alone had fun and suddenly wanted to be part of it. Ignoring the final pull of envy, she turned to more observation, noticing the usual gulls flying around the cliffs, their nest was still the same full house of unhatched eggs.  

She went to the kitchen and began breakfast for the two of them. A quick meal of sausage and eggs would suffice, especially if he was running late for work. 

The smells in the air eventually wafted into the living room and her father rose from the couch, stretching slowly he began to rub his eyes and looked around. “You haven’t cooked breakfast in a long time, what’s the occasion?” She looked up at him and nodded gently  “I figured you would be hungry if you were running late for work, I didn't want you to go without breakfast. It’s half past 9.” 

He smiled at her, “I took the day off, I've been feeling a little more tired these days. I thought we could play cards, or cook something gourmet together later. I miss spending time with you, this past year has been hard for the both of us. I’d love to spend some time with you today.” He paused then walked toward the hallway to the bathroom. This is the first time he's brought up how hard this year has been, I didn’t know he was struggling too. She thought to herself. When he returned she had set the counter for the both of them. “I’d like that.. To play cards, and cook something together. This year has been hard..” she paused “I still have to keep monitoring the cliffs, if that’s okay. I have my break for lunch later and we can hangout then?” he nodded in agreement “I’ve got some work to do on the computer this morning, but a lunch date with cards sounds perfect. Come find me when you’re ready, okay or I'll come find you?” They parted ways and she got cozy in her spot, put her headphones on and grabbed the binoculars. Early mornings were the best time for keeping an eye on the beach, the kids were still down there and sitting on the beach blanket now. There was a couple in the water playfully splashing one another, and a dog running along the edge of the beach.

 By the gentle gliding of the birds, the wind seemed to be calmer than earlier. It must be a beautiful day out there. She thoughtfully gazed out and continued jotting her findings down in-between sips of scalding hot tea. 

This would be the same cup she has every morning. Earl grey with a healthy pour of honey and a generous splash of milk. Nothing was more comforting than it, and as much as she observed life outside and envied it, she still couldn’t bring herself to leave the house.  

She often sat and wondered if she ever would.   

She checked the tide schedule and noticed this evening was a full moon, the beach would be lit-up all night. Full moon nights were her second favorite moon cycle, with the new moon being the first. She loved how it was on those new moon nights. The whole world was swallowed up by darkness, nothing but vast darkness in sight.

With the full moon, she always saw sharks in the cove, swimming closer to shore than ever before. 

What was it about the full moon that made everyone and everything act so wild and different? 

She loved it no matter the explanation. 

Lunch-time rolled around and her dad emerged from his office and walked into the kitchen. He threw together a couple of fat BLTs for them while she finished up with her notes, and brought them to the living room table. She grabbed a deck of cards off the bookshelf and sat down on the floor across from him. After lunch they played games of rummy as she shared with him the news of the full moon. He listened intently to all she had to say, the past observations of shark activity on those nights, and the time she saw a couple dancing on the beach under the moonlight just 3 months ago. It was her favorite people observation to date, she’d never seen it before or since and often wondered who those strangers were. Hoping they were safe and just as in love as they were that night. As she talked he began observing her, and saw a small sparkle in her eye as she went on, something he hadn’t seen in a long time. Maybe her new routine has been helping her after all. He began admiring it, and how she was seemingly holding herself together. One of us needs to be doing better. He thought to himself.

After they cleaned up lunch and finished their rounds of rummy, he decided to head into town for ingredients. He was planning for it to be a surprise what they were cooking but had assured her it was something they would both enjoy. When he came home a couple of hours later, she had fallen asleep in her spot at the window. He gently and quietly crept in and put the groceries away and moved to starting a fire. 

   Although it was the warmer seasons, the coziness of the fire seemed to be something of a silent agreement between them. For the last year, it was lit day to night and had become a key in the harmony of their shared space. After he loaded the drinks into the fridge he gently nudged her “I’m back with ingredients, would you like to start on our dinner?” She gently sat up and looked around, then nodded and staggered over to the kitchen. About two hours later they had a gorgeous meal of pan-seared and iron skillet baked lamb steak, whipped golden and cauliflower mashed potatoes with a side of candied purple carrots.

This had been their favorite family meal for as long as they’d been a family. One they shared when there was just about anything to celebrate, something to mourn, to be grateful about, and really any “occasion” they thought of, just for the sake of the meal. This evening however, it was a reminder of how things used to be.

“Time to have dinner with my favorite girl in the whole world.” He said and looked over the brim of his glasses at her, raising an eyebrow playfully. 

“What are we drinking this evening father, perhaps a red with the steaks or a bubbly for the celebration of the full moon?” She stood up and walked over to the counter looking into the fridge, grabbed both bottles and began observing them. 

“I was thinking we start with the bubbly and we save the red for lunch tomorrow. I have another surprise.” She looked at him and cocked her head curiously, shrugged, set the red wine back on the counter and headed for the champagne flutes. Pouring them each a generous portion of Brut she set the glass down next to him on the table, got cozy and took a few sips of her own drink. She observed just how much food was left, they had made enough for three people. This was done subconsciously, though.. and they both knew why. They spent dinner happily sipping and indulging in each other's company. 

This was what she wanted, for them to finally settle it and talk about the elephant in the room. Their shared grief and the valley between them.  

Tonight was for their joy, the bubbly had given that away. For the first time in almost a year, she felt herself enjoying the presence of her body without the constant stress and worry about the cliff. When was the last time she felt her cheeks hurt from smiling so much? The food combined with the bubbles, and her fathers lively company reminded her of what was missing. This filled her with joy and sorrow all the same. It had become easy to fall into the distraction of the job of observation, it kept her mind busy and her grief under wraps. Was this another reason she chose to fill her time with that? Avoiding life and her friends, the outside world, kept her from having to talk about it. 

The time flew by and before she knew it the clock gleamed 12:01am.

 Noticing a shift in her demeanor he peered at the clock, and began clearing their plates.

 He walks over to the fridge, reaches inside and turns with the biggest grin of amusement on his face. She looks in his hands to see a chocolate pie.

“ Dad! You got my favorite?! You spoil me!” 

“ Even better... I made your favorite. I told you kiddo, I miss you. And there’s nothing I want more than to see you happy… for us to be happy with each other again. 

That starts tonight.” He grabs two small plates and serves them each a piece. 

“So…” he says coyly, hesitating a bit, “I’d love to know more about your game plan with this cliff study you have going on here..” She looks at him and furrows her eyebrows a little bit, 

“ What do you mean by that?” He softens his gaze at her,  

“You know I will always support you no matter what, we both have always supported you.” 

She feels a slight ping in her chest 

“..but I need to know, kiddo, is this a permanent thing? Are we going full agora-never leave the house? Or, is this simply a I-need a break and when I'm ready I'll reemerge into society- kind of thing? No pressure at all, I promise, I just want to know where your head is at and what I can do to help. I’m sure your back is feeling all the strain from sleeping there all this time. If I need to build you a bed or move the walls to make it your bedroom–” she stops him 

“ Dad, I don’t need you to move the walls for me.” She chuckles lightly, 

“ I don’t know, I– I’m having trouble sleeping and since that night… “ She stops and looks the other way. 

“ Since that night..” he begins “Nothing makes sense, I know.” She looks back over at him, tears welling in her eyes. 

“I can’t face it Dad, I can’t face the world. What am I supposed to do? He’s gone and he’s never coming back.” He reaches out to grab her hand, tears in his eyes now too. 

“ I know exactly how you feel, Kiddo. Since that night everything is different. We’ve had a rough go of it and now that it’s just the two of us, we’ll need to figure life out together. It doesn’t mean we’ll ever forget him, how could we? It only means we’ll find what works for the two of us. If it means for now you stay here all day, then I will make sure to always find time just for you and your new plan. How does this sound?” She felt relieved for a moment, and then remembered she hadn’t told him all the details and her chest tightened.  

“Ever since that night” she began “I’ve had this impending feeling in my chest, that if I were to leave this house then something bad would happen that I'd have no control over. Like my own death. The how, the where, the with whom, began taking over my mind. I couldn’t get it out. Then I became very frightened of what if I did what he did. 

With us being up here, on these cliffs. It presented me a middle ground, these cliffs, this house would one day crumble into the sea. Look out there enough every day and you can see the erosion happening. I know it could be another 1000 years before it happens, but what if by sitting here and watching I could predict and know the exact day it would happen. It wouldn’t be my own choosing, but the natural order of things. And with that, I'd go the same way he did, and in a way we would share one last thing.” She looked up at him with tear-soaked cheeks, he gently placed his hand on her cheek. “Oh, Sweetheart. I had no idea it was like that. You know there was nothing we could have done differently, right? You don’t need to lock yourself in because of what he chose to do. You are allowed to live your life. How else are you going to find everything you love the most?” she mulled it over in her mind, “but I love him the most. How can I leave this place, the spot where he forever lives?” Suddenly all his sorrow bubbled right to the surface, “Darling girl, he lives everywhere, not just that one spot. The end does not define the whole of it. He lives in your heart and in your memory. He lives right over there in his pastel chair, still holding a book and rattling on about something that nosey reverend said to him at the post office earlier in the week.” he chuckled to himself. “ We had fun though didn’t we, Dad?” 

“We sure did, kiddo. And guess what, there’s more to come. I love you, you know that right? More than anything, and I want you to know I would never let this house crumble into the ocean, not with you in it. You’re too precious to me.” She scooted closer to him and rested her head gently on his arm, “ I love you too, Dad. Now, are you gonna finish your piece of pie or can I have it?” She winks at him playfully, he chuckles and continues eating it. “You know there’s more pie in the fridge, right?” 

-- Dedicated to my Dang ol' Sweetheart, Amanda Kay.

The Hunger

The Hunger

    You couldn't blame him for the hunger that coursed through him, the ever-present demon summoning violence and bloodshed. This insatiable vice was his curse and his splendor, all the same. 

This was a necessity was it not? 

If you are hungry, do you not eat? 

If you are thirsty, do you not drink? 

You cannot blame them for what they had to do. For it was out of a need that they chose to devour endlessly, these.. un-deniable morsels. Need and not desire were the motives, or were they?

Were these the lies he told himself to press away the guilt that still tried creeping in? 

Or was this the truth?

 How do you (truly) get away from the thoughts that haunt you, telling you what you do is preposterous? Is there a line that crosses necessity into something more dark, and sinister? If you were someone close to the situation, you'd say he enjoyed it. That the demon was him, and not the hunger itself. Do we not become that which we consume and house inside of ourselves? 

He had seen the world change and shift for centuries, and he knew how to adapt alongside it. Changing his face and approach to society as each century turned on. What a splendor it had all been, the closest thing to divinity he could name. 

  This was all he ever cared to remember, a life of privilege and hunger. His humanity faded along with the care for warmth or anything less than satisfying the hunger of the demon. There was never regret nor empathy in his eyes, just the beast that glistened behind a stare. A heavy scent of frankincense and iron lingered on him, and all the charm in the world could not get you talked out of his call of death. He carefully chose where he stayed always small towns where no one would dare question a man of wealth moving in. His favorites were seaside towns which he frequented as his hunting grounds, full of travelers always coming and going.

There were always talks and haunts of night lurking creatures amongst people wherever he went.  These talks were only half-truths, for there was a monster that lurked.. but he didn't hunt for just anyone. On the outside he appeared put together, charming, generous to the community, classy, and occasionally social.

These superstitions were so primitive, he always thought. Could a monster only be vicious and stalking in the dark, a non-socialized monster, as if their whole identity was feeding that demon? This was a hypocrisy that lived inside him, yes of course he was this civilized being, but he was also this demon. He had been the demon for longer than he had ever been a human. His status as a wealthy merchant allowed him access to all the ports he could dream of, a world of opportunity at his fingertips. With this access, he had curated a taste. His taste for blood and flesh was something he prided himself in. He, of course, did not go and find these people but sent the only person with whom truly knew him, Adonis. He had carried him for three centuries. Within these centuries they spent time traveling and getting a taste of the world, the countries, and the flesh. Interesting how such a horror can transform a beast throughout small and large times. He was claiming to be "refined" and "ethical" with the killings. Oh, what beautiful lies we tell ourselves. 

   In the Spring he craved flesh from Greece, which was heavily saturated with oils, wine, and sweet figs. Summertime he craved French, flesh glistening with gorgeous make-ups always so freshly powdered and even more heavily wine saturated. Autumn brought the most delicious Spanish red blood, the warmest skin, and the fullest of lips. Winter, he craved flesh from Ethiopia, beautiful and dark tasting of spices like nothing else. 

You see, Nico felt as though he had a right to this style of hunting, named it more humane and he had been going on like this for centuries. Perhaps the manner of obtaining was ethical to his standards, but the way he dripped, drained, and devoured them was anything but. 

  Before each season's shift, Adonis would sail to their estate and prepare it for Nico. To seek out the locals and travelers alike. Every one of them was coerced with wine, food, and good company into the estate. 

On this fateful day, the journey of these two men would forever be intertwined with that of another in a way they never imagined. 

  Adonis was sitting under the hot sun, in a cafe courtyard, enjoying an espresso after his evening of devouring went a little haywire. There he saw her, his gift. He felt a force tugging on him, urging him to watch and seek her out. He couldn't turn away, and for what felt like the longest minute, he sat and stared. With every fiber of his being, he felt the need to pull away, but he could not. 

Her name was Prima and her scent carried in the wind right over to him, It smelled of lily and fresh soap.  Adonis watched her floating around the street market and quickly paid his tab to follow. He had never seen someone so effortlessly carry on, the way her black curls sat perfectly on the crease of her back. The sun reflected perfectly off her face where you could see a few sweat beads sitting. It seemed as if the sunlight softened and shifted to match her, to reflect off of her perfectly. He didn't approach her, just watched before deciding if he wanted her for Nico or himself. For three days he sat in the corner cafe, each day taking the same seat, watching her float about the street market. It appeared she was well known and took her time with each Vendor and their space, offering them conversation and authentic laughter. No matter the merchant, she made time and made sure they all felt thanked and appreciated. What a sight, he thought to himself. Who is this creature? She was perfection, almost too perfect to pluck her off the street and take her away from all of this life, all of these people. Would she be missed? 

This was when he decided she was the one. The intoxication he felt just watching and stalking. She was the most breathtaking sight he had seen in nearly two centuries.

He wasn't sure how he would approach this, she would be missed, and the clothes she wore denoted that she didn't need anything. 

  It took him those three days to come up with the plan, and he decided he would make the offer to her on the fourth. Invite her to the estate for tea and see what could grow from there. On that fourth day, he decided to approach her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt anxious and nervous at the thought of approaching someone. The closer he got, the more it felt like she was waiting for him, like she could feel him approaching her from the side. Before he could work up the nerve to say something, she turned towards him, 

"What do you think of these?" She said, holding up a pair of yellow earrings. 

The yellow popped and complimented the color of her complexion perfectly. She gently started, waiting for a reply. He said nothing. She sat them down and softly smiled at him, gesturing for him to walk with her. They walked for a while without speaking and he could feel something strange, as if he knew what the conversation would be like, there was something dark and heavy that he couldn't quite place.

 "I've never seen you in this market before, are you a traveler in these parts?" Prima finally broke the silence. 

"I travel here sometimes, yes. My employer has me manage his properties in the region, I'm here on business, you see. I would ask you the same. But it looks as if you are a local." He said, almost without thinking, giving himself away. 

"Have you been watching me?" She looked at him with curiosity and paused her walk… 

"It is true, I'm from here. It's been my home all my life. I lost my husband a few years ago, and the comfort of this town keeps me here. Some days, it feels like a prison. Holding me against my will, like a curse. But I could never bring myself to leave. All of the memories.." 

 What a strange and sad thing to say, he thought to himself. 

"That is truly unfortunate, I have lost many friends and loved ones, it never gets easier. I'm very sorry for your loss. Grief itself can be a prison. It's something I do understand. I would like to extend an invitation to the estates tonight. I'm having the cook prepare something spectacular, a local delicacy, and I would love to share it with you. Please say yes! I could use the company. I'll have wine pulled from the cellar, and we shall call it a dinner amongst friends, what do you say to this?" 

He grinned at her, an inviting and almost frightful smile. She could not resist. She too was drawn to him, she could sense his darkness and it made her feel at ease, she found him rather appetizing. 

 For 2 weeks, they had dinner and drinks regularly, sharing stories of the past. There seemed to be an air of mystery surrounding both of them, with their tales of woe and excitement all the same. From her stories it seemed she had suffered deep losses, first her husband and then her Mother and best friend. The way she told the tales was eerie, drawing you in, and leaving you feeling deep bellows of sorrow for her. It left him unable to pull his attention away. The draw of her story-telling was hypnotizing and he only wanted more. This must be natural for her, he thought to himself most nights. To speak on such deep sadness and loss. To observe and sit in the presence of someone so open and willing to share, was an intoxication in itself. 

  The evening before Nico was set to come to town, They sat outside on the patio. It was adorned with a terrace growing figs. Above them boasted a gorgeous starlit sky staring down offering all the possibilities in the world. Surrounding them were dozens of candles on the various tables and surfaces. While a fire burned nearby, crackling to remind them it was there. Their glasses seemed a never-ending stream of a deep red Chianti. They ate white cheeses and figs, dark goat meats, and the occasional spot of bird. The nights went on as if time stood still for these two strangers as they spilled their secrets and lives. Unbeknown to either of them, Nico had been observing from afar. He too found himself wildly drawn to this beautiful stranger. She reminded him of a lover he once had, perfect and wild. A love he never spoke of anymore, just a lost memory for him until this moment. He settled in for the night and waited to reveal himself there until the morning. 

In the morning Adonis and him shared breakfast and he told him about their evenings together and spoke with enthusiasm. Nico could tell he had grown fond of her and this is where they decided they were going to share in her flesh and blood. Something rare between the two of them. Adonis was Nico's lifelong companion but he was still under his employment. He had made plans with her that evening and this is when they would do it, slip a sedative into her wine so there was no struggle and she would slowly drift off. That evening she arrived wearing the most breathtaking velvet gown, and it hugged her body as if it were made just for her. They enjoyed dinner and conversation as usual, and when he brought after-dinner wine out to the patio she began to tell him a story from her childhood, about her mother. She had been cruel to them and because of it, something happened to her sister. As she sipped the wine she slowly became drowsy and by the end of it was draped over the chair, no longer conscious. Nico emerged from his bedroom just in time and Adonis looked up at him with a grin, he picked her body up and brought her to a lounge chair on the inside of the parlor, and they both began feeding on her. 

  Her blood tasted like nothing either of them had had before, and they couldn't help themselves. With each drink they grew hungrier and hungrier, becoming more ravenous as they began to tear at her flesh, ripping it apart. This evening the primal beast took over them and they were no longer holding their last threads of humanity, they gave in to the demon Nico had fought so hard to push down and deny. 

Their feast and night ended as a late one. They parted ways, drunk on Prima's flesh and blood they headed to their beds.  As they were beginning to drift off they heard a loud pounding at their doors. Both startled they went to open it, thinking it was each other, they stood out in the hall staring at one another with confusion. 

" Was there something you needed Adonis?" Nico asks with a concerned furrow in his brow. 

Adonis just stared in confusion still,  "It was not me, Sir. I had a knock as well" 

Deciding it was a dream one has as you're half asleep, they went back to their beds, puzzled but unaware of what was coming. 

Morning broke and they stumbled downstairs restless but foggy on the night's sleep. Their bodies were sore and they couldn't place the origin, just every muscle aching as if they had run a marathon and then wrestled a bear shortly after. Never had they felt hungover as an effect of consuming someone? As they sat out on the terrace enjoying their morning coffee and paper, a large crow landed next to them, squawking and hopping closer and closer still. Adonis shooed it away but another landed and then a whole flock began to circle above them, squawking and flapping louder and louder. They hurried inside and locked the terrace door. Suddenly, a loud series of knocks began happening at their front door and every other door in the house. Nico fell to his knees covering his ears and grabbing at his chest, something was wrong and he began to feel his eyes bleeding. Adonis sees this and crouches down to check on him when out of the corner of his eye he sees her, Prima standing there staring at them. Except it wasn't her at all, her eyes and mouth were black and she looked as if she belonged somewhere else, somewhere not of this place. He shuddered in fear and stumbled backward over his employer. Wiping his eyes, he let out a little yelp. When he stood up she was gone. 

He began to feverishly look around and began to shout "Where are you, where are you !"

 Nico stood up patting himself, checking his chest, and then ran over to a mirror. He was fine, with no blood, and his ears had stopped the drumming sound. They just stood and looked at each other immediately collapsing into the couch next to one another. Hours went by as they sat frozen in terror, not knowing what to do, say, or think. One thing was clear to both of them, they had made a mistake. The evening had rolled around and the knocking hadn't come back, nor the crows or the sight of the phantom. Yet, they still sat there unable to utter a word or move a muscle for fear it would all start again. Adonis broke the silence, he turned to Nico and quietly said

 " We need to get out of here", they slowly crept out into the yard and headed into town.

   The streets felt oddly empty and the brick road was colder and wetter than normal. They hurried their pace when they passed a series of street lamps, they saw something of a shadow underneath of it. The drizzle in the breeze made it hard to see across the road, but if you squinted hard enough you could see another shadow appear and then another. The light began to flicker and the shadows surrounded them, closing in closer and closer. They began to walk faster and faster but the road soon became hard to see. The rain began to pour harder and soon they were soaked completely. Nico began to stumble and he soon yelled to Adonis, 

"Quickly, come this way! I know a place we can hide." 

They scrambled through an open gate and fled into an abandoned monastery door. It was slightly hidden behind what looked like ancient vines. Closing the door behind them, quickly and quietly they brushed as much rain off themselves as they could. They began looking around for any source of light. They found a candle and quickly lit it, sitting against the door in case some force of nature decided to burst through it. They quickly fell asleep leaning on one another and the night turned to early morning. The morning light streaming in through a crack of broken glass shone on Nico's face, warming it and alerting him to the day's change. As he opened his eyes, he was exhausted and his back was sore. He shook Adonis awake and signaled at him to follow.

 "I once knew the man who ran this place, a long time ago. He was a good man, never asking any question when I would stumble in here distraught and drunk of regret all hours of the evening. He simply opened up his place of refuge and offered the comfort and warmth of a place and man who believed in redemption.." He paused ".. but that was years ago and as you can see, the place has been abandoned for a long time" 

They walked towards a door in the back, and he opened the door, shining the light into it. 

"This will lead us out of here and to the other side of town, from there we can take a ship away from this place. Don't worry about anything of ours in that house, I will replenish any supplies we need. Now quickly before we are sensed." 

They hurried through the underground path, Adonis occasionally looking behind him. He wondered how his employer and oldest friend had come to know this place, having known each other for nearly two centuries and he never once talked about his history. They reached the end and found themselves emerging into a newer and more vibrant church. Lit candles and empty pews were what greeted them, perfect for them leaving the place unnoticed. They hurried into town and quickly found the captain of the ship, Nico began speaking with him immediately while Adonis stood a few feet away, keeping an eye and looking at every face that passed by. The lack of sleep and general terror he felt, disallowed him from feeling anything other than paranoia. Within a few minutes, they were headed straight for the boat, with Adonis following quickly behind Nico still looking over his shoulder. So sure he would see her face in the crowd. As they approached the boat, Adonis began to relax, an escape from whatever horror found them was within reach. They boarded and went to their private quarters. Adonis lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling and clutching his chest. He suddenly had the sinking feeling that this wasn't over. As he sat up, he heard the horn of the ship and felt the steady motion of their journey beginning. On the other side of the ship, Nico was sitting motionless staring into the mirror at the desk in front of him. He had only known one other terror like this,  it was something he had heard of- long ago. Cursed blood. 

  The words loomed in his mind, but he dared not think it truly, or even say it out loud. The truth he knew to be their reality, but denied so deeply. If this were the case, their fate was sealed. There was no escape and running would only temporarily block it. Once they were found, they were caught up to, no ship nor house of worship would keep them safe. Safety no longer existed. 

The engine drummed on and the ocean sights became so vast, terrifying, and lovely to think of how far from land they were and how much mass surrounded them. Nico stood out on the deck, breathing in the fresh air around them. Never in his journeys had he enjoyed the spray of the ocean more, the freedom of his ships. He had given the captain vague details, they were just along for the ride. The next port would be reached in 14 days, and he had hoped that time would put enough space between them and Prima's vengeful spirit. 

The night reached them quickly and he and Adonis met in the hall for dinner. As they sat at their table no words were spoken, just the stiff air of a secret shared. As they finished, Adonis looked at him and uttered 

"We need to talk, please. I have no idea what to say.. what to do. Meet me in the library at 8." 

Nico nodded slowly and assuredly, it was time they talked about their next step. It was time they talked about their fate. 

  8 o'clock rolled around and they sat in the library in front of a small fireplace, drinks in hand, both just staring down at them. It was time the news was shared, Nico thought to himself.  Adonis deserved to know the truth and they needed to decide how long they would be running. They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, finally, Nico looked up from his glass and gently said to Adonis, " My old friend... I fear I have only grave news. I believe we have stumbled upon cursed blood. Which means, in turn, we are cursed. We are marked and our fate is sealed. No shaman, nor priest, or witch could undo this for us. It's only a matter of time until we are as gone as the bodies we have left behind." 

Adonis sat, frozen to his core. Cursed blood? He thought to himself. What on earth is cursed blood? How could this happen? Two hundred years and how had he never come across something like that?

 " You must be mistaken, Nico I've never heard of anything of this sort. Perhaps we were hallucinating. Prima could have taken something and that was just an effect of that, she must have known our plan. Please tell me what this means." He said pleadingly. 

Nico could think of nothing to ease his confusion, nor could he do anything to reverse what was happening. Adonis sighed heavily and defeatedly. He began scouring the library for anything he could find relating to curses and cursed blood, Nico sat heavy in his leather chair, sipping slowly from his glass, watching as the sun was setting and knowing what this meant. They could hide and run all they wanted but their evening was far from over and they had nowhere left to hide. Adonis was sitting in a corner surrounded by books on witches, on curses on monsters from lands far away, but nothing, not a single word of cursed blood. 

" Long ago.." Nico began 

"I met an old woman who told me of my fate in the distant future. She told me I would live a life so rich with blood and greed that I would feel invincible and one day it would all be taken away, just as it was intended to be. She said to me, creatures like you, never get away with things for long." 

  "At the time I thought nothing of it, a mad woman saying anything.. but now, it seems she was right." 

He kept staring out the window until his eyes got heavy and eventually he drifted into a deep sleep and began to dream. He dreamt of a past he had forgotten, he saw her, the woman he loved before all of this had happened. Before he knew the craving for blood. He saw them together happy and enjoying an afternoon in the garden. He was planting flowers, and she was picking mint from the side of the house. They looked peaceful in their routine as if no harm would ever befall them. They worked their way through the garden to each other, when all of a sudden the sky turned a dark gray and clouds started swirling. From the rooftop Prima ascended in a burst of lighting and a boom of thunder, the woman he loved fell to the ground and as he went to reach for her, Prima jumped on her in a fell swoop and ripped her throat out. Leaving her corpse on a bed of lettuce, blood squirting, as the life left her eyes. He couldn't scream he couldn't let out a single sound. Prima grew closer and closer to him, reaching out with black fingers and dark eyes. 

He jolted awake and yelled to Adonis " She's here!" They both leapt to their feet looking around in madness, 

"What do we do?!" Adonis yelled out, but Nico had no answers. 

He bolted out of the library and ran down the hall as fast as he could, abandoning Adonis, he avoided looking behind him while knocking down everything in his path. It was well into the night and the majority of the crew were asleep. Now, however, every door that was passed began to open as he ran and stumbled through every hallway. He couldn't face his fate, and this soon? Each turn he took began transforming into another hallway he didn't recognize and after a few corners, he found himself lost in a hall with no doors. 

  Beginning to hyperventilate he tried to turn around and go back, but it was only a wall. It was as if every turn he had taken was now gone. He gasped in shock. He had no choice but to go on. He began walking very slowly and the lights suddenly flickered, he saw someone emerge from the left. Quickly turning he sees a corpse version of his wife floating toward him, he falls to the floor and covers his mouth to shield the scream of terror he lets out. She comes over, places her hands over his eyes, and lowers her mouth to his ear to whisper,

 "Do you remember the garden, my sweet Nico? How the bees would dance through the small mass of flowers and how we would sit for hours talking and enjoying the scenes. The garden we had worked so hard for. Do you miss it, Nico? Do you ever wish you could go back? Would you like me to take you back?" Nico was frozen in terror, this couldn't be his wife, but how could anyone else know these things?

At this moment, he immediately regretted his decision to bring them on a boat. He was sure they would be able to run but it seemed Prima's spirit had been toying with them. Their plan had failed and they were right where she wanted, alone in the middle of the ocean with nowhere to hide. This was not his wife but Prima toying with him. 

This realization made his stomach sink, he knew he was going to die. The phantom corpse still had their hands over his eyes and she began digging her fingers into the sockets, Nico let out a blood-curdling scream as blood began squirting out. She drew her fingers out and whispered to him, 

"I'm taking you back to our home." She grabbed his hand and led him out onto the deck, he could barely stand from the pain. As they emerged onto the deck, a storm had overtaken the sea and skies, he could feel the spray of water on his face, and no matter what he tried to do, the grip she had on him wouldn't loosen. When they finally stopped walking he collapsed to the ground and felt her jump on top of him, as he lay there terrified, he felt a mouth on his throat and the pain of tearing flesh. Blood gushed everywhere, as she ripped more and more flesh from his neck and chest. 

 In his last moments, he thought of his companion, what would happen to him? Where was Adonis?

 She worked her way down to his heart, tore it out of his chest, and began eating it in the palms of her hands.

As his lifeless body lay there, she stood up smiling down at him, and grabbed his leg. She began dragging him back into the ship to finish what she came to do. As they headed down the hallway toward the library, Adonis was still sitting in there, frantically doing research. 

After Nico had fled the scene he saw no sign of Prima and quickly got back to work trying to find any way to get them out of this. She arrives a few moments later and stands at the door, staring at him. It takes him moments to notice her, and when he does, it's not the dark version of her that was following them but the first version he ever saw of her, this vision of beauty in a white sundress. 

She leaves Nico in the hallway and slowly approaches, 

"What happened Adonis? Is this all you wanted after we sat for nights and bore our souls? When we danced and ate when we shared secrets and gentle gazes over the fire? Was there any other option for us? We could have been so much more.." She paused  "..but did you know I chose you and not the other way around? I could smell the death on you the moment you spotted me. Have you ever wondered why you felt so drawn to me? This moment has been coming to you for a very long time. I've spent my lifetime finding and devouring men like you. You see a pretty young girl and you wish to devour her, to destroy her beauty and make it a fun little game for you. But I promise you this is what you deserve." 

Adonis stared at her with so much terror his blood felt frozen. The fire held no warmth for him. 

"Prima, please, I'm so sorry. If I could —" 

" Don't finish that sentence, Adonis, don't you dare utter another word. You aren't sorry, you're only sorry you got caught. You are now mine to devour, and do with what I wish." She paused and looked back, " I have something for you." 

She approaches the door and begins dragging Nico in, Adonis jolts back and falls over all the books he has laid out. He looks at her with tears in his eyes, 

" What did you do to him?!" She looks over at him and is no longer as she was, but is dark and decaying, she smiles a deep dark smile, 

"Are you ready to join him?"

Gratitude & Sorrow: The many faces of grief.

                                                                          

Today marks two years without my favorite person.

To claim it as a rollercoaster doesnt begin to cover the range of lows that've accompanied me, with the different faces of grief taking their turn housing my heart. 

Over time you just get used to calls and conversations with someone, and the thought of them one day being gone escapes your mind. Random texts asking how we are, or insisting that we come get this juice she bought for us. 

I got to experience a small lifetime of her banter, wonderful story-telling skills and forced yard work on us all. 

(To no avail, because I never developed a green thumb lol!).

Being fed small bowls of chicken and angel hair soup, 

while sitting on the stairs of her house.  Listening to her stories about being a kid or her adventures with Grandpa, while I slowly drifted in and out of sleepiness to the droning sound of her voice. 

That voice and those stories I hope to never forget. 

Or, the laugh she had when she cracked herself up, while slapping her knee. 

The feeling of her boney knuckles rubbing your spine when you needed it most. 

Or how she could untangle any chain with her nimble little fingers, and a grace and patience that was truly unmatched. 

Thousands of small details that now seem more important than ever, right? 

 I hope she knew how much I loved her. The special place she held and will always hold in my heart. 

In all our hearts.  With two down and a lifetime of years to come without her, Im grateful for the things she taught me, the silly moments I shared and the infinite space of love she held in her heart for us all. 

In the end, the cycle was completed, and I got to take care of her those last two years. 

Perhaps this is why the sorrow in my heart's so heavy somedays. 

Questions loom and watching you wither and wilt was a slow progression of spikes digging into me. The most beautiful Mass of being eventually would be gone and I was watching it happen.  I still remember the last thing I did for you, I still remember the last kiss I gave you. Dreams of these things still haunt me. 

But I hope you're floating in the ethereal, in peace at last. 

If there was a divine paradise, guaranteed you got in. 

So what do you say to someone who had such a wonderful impact on your life, and you never got to tell them how much you truly appreciated everything? She was someone who loved big and never let you feel unloved. With a heart and personality as large as life, this spot, the hole and special place in my heart will never be refilled. But a place that I take flowers to and hold onto and cry. Grief presents herself in many ways. One of the best ways is holding onto the overflowing love I felt from her.

In the end its not what they did for you or how they did it, its the conversations, and the quality time you had together. The more you mourn someone, the more you notice small details of yourself absorbing who they were. Mannerisms that are picked up by being around them so much. The hoarding of lids, or empty jars. How do you say thank you and I love you to someone who is gone? 

Perhaps today, I'll light a candle and send a prayer up in its smoke. Spend extra time dusting your shelf and making sure the pictures are perfectly placed. 

Thank you, Grandma for being just absolutely topnotch, the classiest and sassiest lady in the land. We're all better off because of you.

Grief ?! In these times, sheesh! (rants and resources for grief)

Grief is a strange mistress, isnt she. 

Walking next to you, as some gorgeous hooded creature. 

Faceless and heavy footed, as apparent as the elephants in the rooms of your heart

While they tell you about the stages of grief that we all inevitably go through, in whatever loss or suffering or global crisis etc we experience. What we cannot fully comprehend are the stages in their time frame, 

or how our behaviors will shift due to these things. 

You dont always  wake up one day sad, and say “ oh yes, this is sadness due to grief. I will face it and be onto the next.” And the next day and next. 

Frankly, 

most people do not wish to put aside the time to go inward and face these things.. 

Who can blame a person for wanting to avoid emotions and the trauma of grief..

I've been a grief soaked and soulless creature before, 

unable to comprehend a trauma so deep and shattering 

that I felt as if the world was the enemy

 and there was nothing left but the pit. 

They don’t tell you how much your character and behavior can and will change due to grief, 

for the good and bad. 

And I find myself, facing that creature of Grief once again, in two more forms. 

Loss and global pandemic. 

It has shown me the pit once again

 and I now peer into her, as the bottomless, 

yet eye opening free fall she is. 

Behaviors, emotions and senses heightened as they are on all levels. 

How, since grandmas passing,

 I find myself inevitably holding an ocd standard to house work and its routine.

 You see, She would not let me organize or keep things in order.. 

So now mess and clutter is an even huger stressor than it ever was.

 Is this Grief manifested ? ..

Moments, 

after I was told she passed, my first instinct was to start and organize and de clutter.

 All of the small areas she hoarded things in,

 or bottles and papers kept “just incase” Items or tasks that “She would do”. 

How the stubborn will of an incredible life force and powerhouse, 

was her inevitable downfall. 

How can one comprehend this?

Its hard to, at first,

 face all the small discrepancies that were there in the end. 

Face an ending that was fucking hard man, 

it was hard as shit. 

Harder than anything I have ever faced..

...

 In my heart,

 the grandma that I hold and know 

was the one that made me fall in love with books, and her storytelling. 

Taught me unimaginable things that always always were helpful. 

A brilliant light that ultimately helped shape me.

 Grief is so heavy.

 And its something that must be felt, on every level.

 Every fucking time, you need to face it.

What a strange thing to face,

 grief…

……

…..

…

 Inevitably changing us whether we accept or not.

 How, we, without consent are here in a global crisis ,

 with trauma and grief floating all around for every human to experience. 

Because grief, no doubt, and especially circumstantial trauma, brings up other things that need to be faced. 

Talk about some heavy shit, man. 

How do you face it? 

And move.. into the moment thats just waiting there? ..

….

…..

Grace is a fucking powerful thing. 

And sometimes its literally the only saving grace.

 (Haha I fucking get it now)

Grace with yourself, and the world around you.

 If you can Allot that grace, you’re un-fucking-stoppable. 

Experts say that grief can really change a mind, 

make you face your demons or help you choose to run away.

 It can make you feel all alone at night,

 whilst you’re laying in your bed. 

In a house surrounded by millions of other houses. 

But you’re not alone, and grief isn’t the end. 

It’s fucking true what they say, 

you gotta feel the shitty shit to get to the good shit. 

How hard and dark and sad is that shitty shit...

But how fucking great does that good shit feel when you can face the fuuuucking darkness that is grief? 

It feels top notch, My Darling. 

And once you conquer one set of darknesses,

 guess what. 

You got the rest of em. 

Remember that. 

Hey, I know life is heavy af rn, but its gonna be alright. Promises 

Here are a few resources on coping with things like Grief and Trauma. The more educated you allow yourself to be, the more equipped you’re gonna find yourself in every day life. 

Book smart and street smart. Enjoy, and Ciao for nowwww my loves :

Coping with Grief and Loss

Coping after Disaster

How to deal with Trauma

Understanding Uresolved Grief

A deeper look into grief couseling for those really struggling 

EB 

Philosophical asshat

Nov 19th 10:42 pm:

Fondly remembering a time when I was patient and content with life and what it had to offer.. 

these days, it seems, I’m becoming more patient and desiring to have an understanding of those around me on an intimate, constant basis , and less patient with life and what it has to offer. 

Adversity...

A tricky curve ball that chaos itself has thrown at you. 

Life seems to me, a constant straight with its own meanings and ways, that sometimes happens upon other sort of things... but is nonetheless, it’s own line. 

What do we do with it ?

 Now, that seems to me, the only thing we can have an answer to. 

I no longer believe that everything happens for a reason, I truly know now that when we are happening upon a bit of chaos that you call adversity, we can choose to find something within it that teaches us or shows us something. In any sort of light...

Complete devastation can allow us to feel so much suffering that one day, we can call on that pain with gratitude or complete grief.. 

 Some sort of strength was acquired in the future, because of that. Our hearts and life lessons (as I call them) are a collection of beautiful triumphs ( or failures) over something so devastating or disappointing. What do we take from these adversities, if anything at all? And what do we do with it as we are in the current state of ? If I take my heart as I am, then what will come of it ? Do I allow myself to suffer so ? If this is what I choose, will I come out with a better understanding or will I just stay the same ? As I question this, I know the latter is not possible. Me, stay the same ? Ha! One thing is for certain, a halt in evolution is not on my plate. But how do we discern the evolving from the stagnant waste? How can one possibly hate humanity and love it all at the same time? And when did I start sounding like some self pondering philosophical asshat... 

E.B

Taken from my private collections--

Reflections

 In the deepest most vibrant crevices of the heart, what humans long for the most, is to be understood, loved and cared for so deeply and honestly by another. That the purity of receiving this understanding from another, brings forth this pure, whole, true version of self.. without force or suggestion. This never has to mean a romantic connection, for those are generally clouded by societal labels and misunderstandings of communication/ versions of love etc etc... but a connection so pure in nature that it is nothing short of holy. 

 How truly rare it is to look into a mirror and see this clear vision of yourself, let alone this crystal clear view of another. 

My heart is the optimist in life, whilst my brain wears me down with the logical interpretations and realities that are sometimes a sad drain on who I am. 
My soul seems to come and go as she pleases, bringing forth wisdom, magick and perspective from all angles. 
The optimist hopes and loves, creates and sees the magick..while the pessimist scowls and scoffs, indulging in self pity and worldly cynicism.
 On reflection, there has never been one that leads more than the other, they just take their seasons and get on with it. 

Springs and Summers have turned to sadness, while Autumns and Winters offer up the Magick and answers I seek. And in different years time, the roles will shift. 

Each season is in itself,  not just a weather shift , but an emotional, spiritual, mental and creative change as well.

The cravings change, the people of frequent change, the expression of art changes, the desires of learning and the things I once held dear become examples of seasons past. 
And while the seasons change, so does my heart and this understanding of who I am. 

This brilliant and vibrant being who continues to thrive despite adversities and really bad versions of what my heart wants lol..

And while I continue to crave the sort of connection of kindred soul and heart love, 

I will continue holding that connection and understanding within the core of my own being. 

Deeply knowing, loving and understanding my own heart.

 I am continuously surprised by my own resilience to all things. 

Truly, my life has not turned out as I would have expected, and although at this very moment my heart is deeply and irrevocably broken. (Yet, completely whole by all the love I have felt, given or once have had.) I know there will be days in the future when I can look back with love, understanding and growth, and know it was not all for naught. (Haha double negative🙏🏼)

This offers me hope, and only makes me want to know those days already, just a little lol.
 Retrospect can be a beautiful gift to treasure and use.. and I truly wish to have and share it’s capacity this day and every other to follow. 
To be able to feel one thing, yet all things at once, this is my hearts greatest content and greatest sorrow. but for today, it is a gift. I do not offer more wisdom than I have, nor will I ever waste time pretending to know more than I do. I instead, offer myself as I am in whatever stage I am. 
How frightful and vulnerable to present your being to the world as you are in that moment. Good or bad (whatever that means) 
The interpretation of those who see you, will be entirely up to them...

Do we wish to see others as they present themselves (truthful or not) or do we want to see them as we think they are. 
These things can be at times, desperately hard to distinguish.. and I offer no advice or tricks in seeing one or the other.
 For me, it is always important to try and see a person for the truth of who they are, whether they offer it up or not. This is my blessing and my curse (that I lovingly hate.) Not everyone can see the soul of another, and this is something I have come to learn. Live your life as you honestly are, and you will see the world and others as they truly are, apparent or not. Within this, you can see the heart of another. Is it filled with love for themselves and the world around them, or is it something entirely different? 
Who are you and how do you perceive the world? 
These questions are yours alone to have and to answer, whether you share them is not relevant. 

-E.B

**Shared from my private collection**