Continuum: Story 1 Part 2/2 (DRAFT)

The following day Chloe sat in same spot and watched workers repair a sky rocket. She wondered if the loud, haunting bangs were some sort of melody for the longing they both shared to be one with the sky. Her pulse jumped as she felt someone sit down on the bench.

“Another tale?” Chloe turned to look at the stranger with hair like the galaxy, his smile remaining soft and his leg crossed as if he hadn’t moved from his spot yesterday. She gave him a shoulder shrug.

“Alright then. This time we’ll talk about our life in Egypt.”

“...Egypt, as in the region now covering what once was North Africa?”

“You must be a history lover. This time, you met me first on the Nile river...”

    For the next few weeks, their routine was the same. Every other day, Chloe would sit with this man, who she soon learned was named Andrew, and he described their past lives together. He described different forms and areas of life; from marine life to life as ancient Romans. Chloe went to sleep every night and relived these lives of romance, euphoria, and extravagant adventures in her dreams only to wake up at the point of one of their deaths in cold sweat. They grew close enough where he could lay his head in her lap and she would find comfort combing her fingers through the twinkling strands on his head. His voice was husky and soft while relaying their past lives and demise. 

She learned he was an engineer who grew tired of Mars and missed Earth from the late 1980s as he remembered in a past life before. He learned she was simply a young girl who worked mornings at a coffee shop and spent her afternoons putting her heart onto rockets that shot into the sky. They found things about each other that caused chills: both had matching infinity symbol tattoos on their wrists and when they touched, a pleasant heat shot through her and the gold in his eyes intensified. At night when she was dreaming about their past life of the day, he could barely sleep because the energy from her dreams left him breathless.

Chloe, however, wanted a final scene where they both remained alive. A happier ending. Each time she asked if their ending changed, he gave her a sad smile and the silence spoke volumes. He traced her fingers in apology, lips humming a quiet tune that only she could understand, and she felt a piece of her deflate. She found herself stopping him before they would die, even though at night her dreams now played out the whole sequence. Eventually, she gave up on sleep so she wouldn’t wake up agonized.

Another day came and Andrew could feel her reluctance to come near him. He frowned as he turned to look at her sitting rod straight and staring straight ahead.

“You haven’t been sleeping lately.” he said quietly. “I’ve managed to get a full 8 hours this whole week... Why are you so distant to me?”

Her fingers remained in her lap and her eyes didn’t meet his as she listened to the robotic chirps of the station in the distance, cars racing around and men yelling out words she couldn’t decipher.

“Andrew,” she finally said, voice low and shaky as her knuckles grew pale from squeezing too tight.

“Every meeting we’ve had throughout history results in us falling in love and dying? None of them result in us being victorious?”

Andrew gave her a soft smile, sadness making the curl in his lips falter at the edge.

“Not even one?” His head shook.

“No matter what, we eventually die. We’ve tried to beat death, to cheat it somehow, but it never works out. One of us has to part before the other or we both go together. Loss is definite.”

A soft chuckle escaped Andrew’s mouth, his arm reaching over the back of the bench to grip his fingers around the wood, squeezing as tight as his strength allowed. Star filled hair shook while he dropped his head back and inhaled.

“We are the Romeo and Juliet of the Universe.”

Teeth gnawed on a swollen lower lip as her fingers folded and made cranes in the fabric of her skirt, smoothing them over to erase them and start anew. Chloe turned her head away, throat choked, and Andrew continued to watch the leaves above him shift into rust and gold.

“What’s the point?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard it clear with the sirens screeching about another rocket searching for a bulls eye to dock on.

“Why do we even stay together?”

Long fingers released their tight hold on the bench and slowly slid up Chloe’s shoulder blade in a gentle, yet firm path to remind her of his physical presence. Still, she refused to glance. His eyes reminded her of the sun: intense, bright, and confident of its purpose in the world. She felt the pleasant warmth from his fingertips slide down her arm, curl around her elbow, and then latch onto her waist, pulling her close within a moment’s breath.

“The love that results is so powerful it vibrates through our skin. Our tattoos burn our wrists every time we think about making love and when our eyes meet it feels like everyone has finally vanished from Earth and we are the sole missionaries here to revive it’s beauty. It drives us to pleasant madness, sleepless nights, wars declared in the name of rapture. We forget where our limbs begin and end because they’re so entangled in the morning. We develop a sixth sense for each other’s every movement and thought.

“We stay,” he leaned in, their eyes closing as he inhaled the floral, yet spicy scent of her perfume, “because there’s nothing else like it. No other compares. We feel full with shared energy until our final breath.”

    Her breathing became shaky, and Andrew pressed his lips to the crown of her forehead.

“We are destined. To deny it is foolish. There is no ‘what-if’ for our ending. Let’s live out our days together in happiness, no matter the outcome, because the present is more important than the future.”

Andrew pressed his forehead against hers, his skin hot and his heart now racing as she clung to his shirt. “I know you’re afraid,” he stroked his and against her cheek, “But you don’t have to be. I’m here now and I’ll be here til the end. Will you spend the rest with me?”

    Chloe searched sun filled eyes and she could only give a soft smile and wrap her arms around his waist.

“Will they be the best moments of my life?” Andrew let out relieved laughter and pressed a firm kiss to her lips.  

“If they’re not, you can kill me yourself.” Chloe’s smile grew against his mouth before he held her face tenderly in his hands and hummed his comforting tune, the ‘dings’ and ‘tings’ of repair work began anew in the distance.

    Their adventure together was inspiring. They moved in together quickly and Andrew introduced her to a world of light filled rooms, calm silences and sporadics. She gave him the art of appreciating the little things, dancing in empty rooms with no music, and sky gazing on the roof into stars that were barely visible to make constellations match. His hands couldn’t stop holding her, his lips starved for contact, and she craved the intense heat that he created with just a smirk and a stare throughout the day. Mornings were spent with shared breaths and entangled limbs, afternoons with roaming, evenings curled into each other with music from decades past.

    With four years passing, she forgot about her fate. He took her as far as they could go:  former national parks, frames of palaces in India, to Africa where mankind’s oldest bones were found. Yet no matter where they were in the world, Andrew caught Chloe staring into the sky and following shooting beams of light. Imagining herself shooting in the beams to another planet. Reaching her hand into the sky to grab a rocket and hold on for the ride.

    When Chloe’s birthday came around on the fifth year, Andrew held her in his apartment and presented her with two iridescent tickets. She paled with shock, trembling as she covered her surprised cry with her hand.

“I know this is all you’ve ever wanted,” he placed the tickets in her hand as she let out  a choked sob, “And all I want is for you to see, first hand, what shooting through the stars is really like. It took some favors, but we can pack up what we have and go to Mars."

He smiled as she hugged him tight and cried in his chest happily. "Are you ready?”

“I’m ready. I’ve always been ready.”

    The next seven days were a whirlwind.  Chloe said goodbye to her job, her coworkers, and made sure her apartment was out of her hands. She traced things with her eyes closed to remember the feel of things in her home and the coffee shop, smiling as she thought about what it would feel like on Mars. They celebrated with wine and music from the early 1970s on their last night, drunk and happy and light.

She had never been more elated in her entire life. With the same wheat field colored dress from their first meeting she clung to Andrew and her ticket, her face bright and full of hope. Andrew would kiss the crown of her head every few feet they moved forward and they were greeted as they handed over their tickets at the threshold of the rocket. With one last look back at the home she always knew, she followed Andrew to their seating and held his hand tight as the rocket grew closer to launch.

Andrew leaned his head against hers and they both shut their eyes as they heard the exhausts building with fire. “Whatever happens, we’re happy in this moment, okay?”

Chloe smiled, fingers holding a bit tighter as the feeling of rising through the air began.  

It usually takes three weeks to get to Mars. No one would have guessed that during the first week a malfunction would lead to the crashing of their rocket into an asteroid belt, killing everyone on board in a flash. Chloe would never get to see Mars, but with Andrew holding her close she didn’t mind. The stars were within a hand’s reach and she was content to join the solar system after being full of nothing but happiness.

All she could hope for now is to be reunited within the next life sooner than later.

*Story 1 Complete*

Continuum: Story 1 Part 1/2 (DRAFT)

It was giant, gleaming with the light from full on rays and a wash from head to toe. It’s metal body curved, wrapped tight into itself so the end and beginning point were synonymous, crowned with a fire colored headpiece and tailed with exhaust pipes that were blue like the ocean used to be. People were lined up with suitcases, faces in awe and hope, eyes welled up with happiness to the point of crying, fingers clenched to tickets bright as the rocket. Families clung to each other and awaited as last minute carvings of scriptures for safety and health were being lasered below the crown and above the body of the roaring machine.

This was the third rocket this week destined for Mars. Tomorrow’s would be for Venus.

The rockets had been moving more frequently now and for Chloe, it gave her mental peace and agony to watch the large, godly ships venture into the solar system. It was her daily ritual to walk down the worn brick road surrounded by the dirt and dust and old, dying trees that to watch the sky station that was about two miles to the east send cargo and families through the atmosphere. She was happy for the families who got a chance to live with fresh water, air, and real food. She wanted to strap herself into a seat with nothing but the clothes on her back, shut her eyes, and revel in the feeling of her heart leaping into her throat with ascension.

‘I want to fly.’

“A lot of space birds are rushing to Mars and Venus lately.”

She felt the worn wooden bench rock slightly beneath her as the speaker sat down on the other end and let out a sigh. Curiously, she turned her eyes to see a perplexed expression etched across his face as he watched the last minutes of the ship launch. The rocket was building up power; flames swimming throughout the exhaust and curling around the edges, ready to destroy and burn everything in it’s path. Within seconds, the latches were off and the rocket was shooting into the clouds with a high pitched whistle of air being cut quickly.

“It’s still weird to think about how this planet used to be vibrant in color and life. Before the oil battle of the early 2000s that set off a world war. So much color in the history books and the animals and plants... God, what a mess we’ve made for the pursuit of money we can’t even spend here now. Even this park we’re in has suffered so immensely it’s unrecognizable.”

    His hair was the color space, stardust twinkling through the slicked back strands with each fleck of sunlight and wind. His smile was soft, head tilted as his hazel eyes met brown warmly and examined the shimmers in her dress. Tan fingers drummed against the cracked frame.

“Your dress reminds me of the wheat fields on Mars in the springtime.”

“You’ve been to Mars?” she asked; the ship was now a speck of red in the sky.

“I have. It’s a lovely planet to visit if you can. They’ve made themselves to live like the 1960s, before climate change really started to become an issue in this world, and it’s worked like a dream. With some added altercations in health and sciences, of course.”

“Of course...”

“Have you ever gone? To Mars or Venus, I mean.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure. Lived on Earth my whole life.” she gave him a grin, her eyes showing the desire to float throughout space and watch meteors from the window of a metal shell. She shrugged before pulling her shawl closer to her, wrapping the fabric around her in hopes to hide the insecurity of remaining grounded forever, and tilted her head back to avoid his gaze. The two of them stared at the launch site.

“Pardon me, miss,” he said after a few moments of silence, “but can I tell you something?”

“It depends,” she answered, her head still up towards the heavens trying to see any last sights of the fire in the sea of blue.

“I know this may sound crazy,” he began again after a moment’s pause, “but I believe in our past lives we were mates.”

The statement caught her off guard. Chloe’s eyebrow arched and his smile widened as she turned to look at him and determine if he was serious or not.

“Mates. As in animals who are lifelong partners.”

“Yes. Mates. Animals in a few, but mostly of the human form.”

Chloe slowly shifted to the edge of the bench, caution signs ringing in her head as he rolled midnight colored sleeves up to his elbows and casually crossed his legs. The breeze came, gentle and caressing against their skin, vanishing as quick as it came.

“Would you like to hear about one of our forms? We were lions at one point.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as curiosity began to take hold and slowly reel her in. He enjoyed the fact that she unconsciously moved back towards him.. “..Lions. As in the extinct felines once known to be king of the safari. The ones they’ve failed to clone on Earth.”

“Lions,” he gave a slight nod, “Proud leaders of the pack. We basked in the sun near watering holes and nipped at each others faces in displays of affection. You were the best hunter around and I fought for you against every male who wanted the top female in the pack. We were attached by the tail.”

“How cheesy. So, what happened to us?” she asked haughtily. “Let me guess. We were hunted?”

“Why, that’s correct,” he examined the lines on his palm, “I was killed on a safari accident; a rogue bullet really since it was against the law to hunt lions in this decade. It was the first time they saw a lion physically devastated over the loss of a significant other. You mourned over me with such intensity that it made them question what it meant to be human. You died from a broken heart.”

Chloe sucked her teeth and leaned back to her side in annoyance.  “How anthropomorphic. Typical early 2000s classic. Now I’m supposed to ‘aww’ and fall into your charm and agree to a dinner date at the diner down the street, right? Not tonight, sir, no way.”

He watched her rise to her feet, a small ‘hmph’ escaping her lips as she dusted off the back of her dress and pulled her hair behind her ear. Her irritation made her adorable, lips bent in a pout and eyes narrowed in disagreement as she turned to walk away. He chuckled and as she bid him a good day, he stretched out on the bench and waved his hand in the air.

“Come back tomorrow around the same time so I can tell you more about our past lives!”

    As much as Chloe wanted to deny it that night she laid in bed restless, thoughts plagued with lions and lakes and the idea that they were truly attached.

To Be Continued.

#14 Draft (An Excerpt From 'The Reasons For Happiness Series')

    It was Thursday and the forecast had lied. The sky, one thought to remain blue and clear for the day, was gray with white splotches darkening by the minutes. The cloud were slashed open, water bleeding from the wounds and dripping upon the streets. Rumbles of thunder echoed in the distance, seconds between each drum beat showing how fast the real storm was charging in.

    It was going to get messy, yet they burst out their front doors like rockets. Shirtless, shoeless, fearless: their hollers were loud enough to challenge the booming from the sky while they spun and leaped and became slick with rain. It fell into their eyes, made the trees and picket fences blurry, and they were borderline deaf with the way their laughs echoed in their heads, but the dull light and the games in the street were exciting enough to stick around and continue to holler like maniacs in the spring storm.

---

    Winter brings such harsh weather. Low temperatures can be a real drag, the breeze is dry and icy enough to cut skin, and the sun seats so early these days. What once was rain is now fluffy, frozen, and covering the earth in layers that can reach the height of cars.  It’s a slow time, and for many who enjoy energy from the sun, a miserable experience.

   Instead of hollering, they were silent as they suited up for war. Gloves, thick socks, fleece lined hats, thermal onesies and shiny, swishy, outerwear. Lips were curved in pure mischief and the empty street was soon filled with two teams that split the neighborhood. Adrenaline was building at the faceoff, chests puffing out and eyes of all shades dilating in anticipation of the mayhem they were about to cause.

    With a breath of crisp, cold air, their once still bodies broke into a mass movement of arms flailing and legs jerking and loud, exhilarating noise. Snow angels were made by fallen comrades, balls exploded like gunshots against puffy jackets, and their world was a mist of snow and cloudy puff of air and glory for the victors.

---

    Scorching heat made the sun seem like an enemy of the state. It left people holed up in their homes and their cars, sitting in front of air conditioners on high and dreading the moment they had to move for ANY reason. The heat wave caused ocular migraines (were those houses truly shaking?), the trees looked dried up, and you literally could fry an egg on the pavement.

July was a truly force to be reckoned with.

When had any season ever stopped them?

They pedaled through the trees, the heat causing sweat to slide and glisten and make everything slick from their seats to their handlebars. Their laughter and jokes echoed against wood and the man made breeze from speed was worth the ache building up in their calves. The sound of rushing water brought gasps and quick yaps of excitement, bikes squeaking as they sped up along the bank of flowing water and little fish towards the drop off the edge.

    Metal hit the ground, clothes flew off in a show of color and cotton, and the first run to the edge was lined with chants and applause. With a leap the feeling of weightless and air filled every sense and their stomachs lept into their throats with the rush of descending through the air. In those few seconds they were alive more than anyone.

    Cool water engulfed them, causing brief stasis as they sunk and simply existed, but air became necessity and their legs propelled them back to the surface. Gasps of air were followed by sighs and splashing and giggling. The rays of the sun cut through trees and decorated the water’s surface with patches of light. They laid on wide rocks like seals, shook water out of their faces like dogs, and seeked more adrenalin climbed up the rocks to run and re-leap off the edge of the waterfall in a display of flips and dives olympic worthy.

#14.

     Whether you’re as adventurous as the group here or more low-key, the weather is something to be grateful for. It means that the world is alive, the powers of nature are still in effect and they can be the perfect back-drop to memorable moments and ideas of pure fun.  

Enjoy the moments in weather you can participate in.

Desires (An Excerpt from the Rise and Fall of Chase & Eri)

{Retrieved from July 2011}

You shine brighter than any streetlight I can stand under
And your aura makes time around me seem nonexistent.
Just one look at you and I sometimes forget to breathe...
My fingers itch at the sight of your skin from inside that jacket.

All I want to do is touch you.
To collapse in a nest of the softest pillows around
And watch my fingertips create masterpieces along your spine...
Picasso will be jealous of all the new colors we create on this canvas.

Combust with me.
Let our bodies create a friction, igniting a flame so hot
That even God has to flinch at the scalding on his fingertips
And kick us off the clouds.

See, you may not know this or understand just yet,
But I love you more than Paris loved Helena,
Stronger than any arrow Cupid may fire--
Yeah, Romeo & Juliet ain't got shit on us
Because I'd dash you away before you even TOUCH the sleeping elixir
And we're not made for heaven because the angels will sin the skies with jealousy!--

So right now, on this corner, kiss me under the streetlights of the city.
Hold me close enough so we mold into each other
And as our lips touch with the world spinning around us,
We create a passion so powerful that even Aphrodite will stand back in awe and envy.

If I could, I would change the Milky-Way so that it spells every letter in your name.

-Chase ♥

Author's Note: Tumblr!

Hello, everyone!

To accompany this blog, I have recently started a Tumblr account that will be filled with pictures, music, and even MORE writing that I don't submit to this page. It gives a little bit more insight into who I am and what drives me to write as much as I do. It's definitely worth checking out!

http://zuzumahjuzu.tumblr.com/

-ZM

Glow (Draft)

I watched a firefly die last night. On a night where the heat really lingered in the parting of the sun, a glowing ball swirled into the ground, shooting past my eye and startling me out my usual summer daze. I looked down at the sidewalk across from me and was captivated by the summer darling unusually sitting on the ground and blinking. Slowly, as if not to startle, I laid my cheek against the warm cement and held my arms close to my ribs. Small pebbles pressed uncomfortably into my thigh, but fascination took over and pinned me to my spot. It was then that it began. 

Wings that flicker as fast as strobe lights were now just languid flutters in the final attempts to stay in the present. Flight was impossible and it slowly moved into short blades of grass, almost seeming modest and urgent to hide its physical ending from its fellow kin. The stars were clear, covering the sky in an array of small, distant suns, but even outer space was dull in comparison. I felt like an intruder witnessing something sacred, but as sad as this moment was I knew I’d never see something like this again. The seconds passed like minutes, but I remained lying down, only moving my eyes, absorbing every movement I could register as my heart fluttered in my chest.  

The most captivating part was the glow growing on its tiny back. It was a beacon, fading and then brightening with every passing moment, illuminating a small piece of the grass in neon yellow, shaking with each step closer to it’s last pulse in the living. Cicadas chirped quieter, fellow lightning bugs blinked rapidly as if saying farewell to an elder, and I was afraid to breathe. It wasn’t the biggest firefly I’d ever seen, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last I’d see before the end of summer, but this little bug of light caused a pang within that I couldn’t understand. 

I wanted mother nature to explain why I was drawn to this parting of the physical realm, why I was so moved by it when others would deem it depressing. Did the spirit of the light flow into the others? Was that why they were blinking so rapidly? Did they even have spirits like the rest of the kingdom since their lives were such short specks in the sea of time, barely leaving an impression? I felt awful wanting to prolong it’s death just so I could get some kind of sign, but it’s wings jerked upward so suddenly that my heart leapt in my throat at the twitch, and its light illuminated brightly and strongly across my eyes for the last time, shrinking into nothingness as quick as it came. Nature resumed, the sounds came back into my ears, and the fireflies drifted lazily across the sky above me as I laid on my back and ignored the feeling of a worm sliding across my bare feet.

I wonder if all lightning bugs die by giving one final showcase.

The Samurai and The Sitar (Jan. 2013 Writing Assignment)

Four AM has a quiet cloaked over the park, and He is the only one that seemed
to be awake, walking through the park with an emotionless look on his face.
A modern day samurai, a katana on his hip was hidden by a black trench
and dried blood under his fingernails from his recent assignment. He strolled
past a small lake and in the distance, he heard music coming from a bench.
A lady, donned in flowing pants and a royal blue top sits on the bench. Nimble
fingers strummed a sitar and filled the morning air with relaxing, exotic sound.

The samurai was quickly intrigued, but was prepared to pass her without colloquy.
She raised her head and observed him walking towards her before she dropped
her head with a soft smile. “Are you proud of the bodies that fall by your blade?”
His footsteps froze, his eyes narrowed, and his head tilted in her direction.
“What do you mean?” he asked. He watched her fingers pluck the strings softer,
eyes full of knowledge meeting his. “Are you not a samurai? I know your kind.”
“And what do you know of us?” he challenged.

“You’re naive to what this world needs for change. You spill blood for the evil.”
His hand tightened in his pocket, a small surge of rage built within his core.
“You know nothing of me. I fight to better the system in place. For my mother,
slain with no justice and for my kin separated from me. I want to alter the law,
have people in place to fix the wrong-doings, and finally gain peace for all.”
The sitar player only smiled softly and stopped playing the sitar completely.
Her small fingers released the strings and she raised it for him to take, calmly
waiting for him to come close. “Take my hand,” she said with laughter
on the edge of her lips. He stared at it dubiously. “Come now, one moment
of your time. I don’t bite.” Curiosity got the better of this morning samurai
and he took a step forward, removing his stained hand from his pocket
and slowly placing his hand in hers.

A surge of heat shot through his hand and he felt as if he soul was sucked
from his body. Visions of his present, his past, his future flashed before him.
Colors burst before his eyes at what would happen if he kept fighting for beliefs
and a leader that he thought true. He could hear the screams, the battle cries,
see the flames and the betrayal, smell the smoke and the burning homes.
With a gasp, everything went into rewind and he yanked his hand from hers.

“Do you understand?” she asked, but it fell upon deaf ears as he stumbled
backwards and fought to catch his breath. “Go,” she breathed, “Your bed
awaits you.” The samurai stared at her in disbelief as he started to walk
down the path again, but he turned back and said, “I don’t know what you’ve
done to me... but I will make sure that never happens.” The sitar player already
had begun to strum again as he held his hand close to himself and continued
on his way home.

Even in sleep the colors continued to rush before his eyes, his skin burning with
heat and his body thrashing the nightmares that plagued from his encounter that
occurred days ago. Cold sweats surrounded him even in small naps and the
samurai lost the drive he once held to kill everyone and everything that stood
in the way of a better future for where he lived. “What have you done to me,”
he seethed as he found the sitar player sitting on the same bench where they
met before. “I simply opened your eyes to the truth,” was her quiet reply, eyes
closed as she strummed a tune to welcome in the reds and oranges that came
with the sunrise that morning. “You’ve ruined me,” he whispered violently. His
feet moved him to pace back and forth, arms held close to himself as he attempted
to harm her with the deadliest glare he could muster up from within.“I can’t even
sleep without feeling like something is melting my skin.”

“So, fix it.” their eyes met, clashing as his narrowed viciously. The samurai was
furious and the desire to end her life was strong, but the sitar player could only
watch as he rubbed his palm into his eyes and stormed off down the path. Music
followed his footsteps as he clenched his fists and returned to another night full
of nightmares. Like a map laid out, the samurai watched as the visions he was
plagued with came to life. Houses began to burn, lives were wrongly taken, and
the screams that plagued his mind were now a reality as he fought within himself
to not leave the town behind. The mornings were like infernos and greys fell from
the sky as ash from the buildings littered the streets. The samurai realized that
the leader he was once working with was not who he thought he was at all. Even
the self-notion that he had been brainwashed this whole time made him feel lost.

‘Fix it.’ the samurai’s head rang with these words and he pulled his blade from its

sheath, eyes of resolve and remorse reflecting back at him. That morning, he held

his doorknob in his palm for what he felt might be the last time in a while. He slammed the door shut and he walked through the sitar player’s path in the park, registering her absence from her bench. His blade went into overdrive and the fire blazed under his veins as he threw himself into war and tried as best as he could to keep the bodies to a minimum under his blade.

Weeks later, the sitar player hummed softly and strummed her sitar with a touch that was as soft as a feather. The tune barely rose to be heard along the path and the sound of boots against the pavement brought her eyes up to see the samurai that she thought dead on the path. Their eyes met briefly and he walked past her, acting as if he didn’t register who she was. “The flames are gone,” he replied, her eyes rising and looking at his back. “I took your advice and now I can sleep.” Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles and she shook her head softly before she prepared her fingers to play once more. The samurai continued on his path home and unfortunately would never cross paths with the sitar player again, her memory and her music forever lingering in the back of his mind.