Isabelle

The wind blows lightly, swirls of dust kicking up in the makeshift traffic alleys of the carnival stalls. Paint chipped and weather worn, the shacks stand teetering and leaning from the onslaught of summer rainstorms. Sarah walks slowly through the wooden tunnels, her sandaled feet leaving footprints. She does not worry about the tracks for as she looks over her shoulder the breeze picks them up and disperses them, the dry dust resettling to cover her passage.

Sarah wanders, traveling the same path men, women, children, old and young, sick or healthy, ran or walked ages ago. She faintly hears the sounds of the old carnival. The giddy laughter of experiencing the thrill of a first ride, the satisfied hum of tasting a delicious greasy morsel, the maliciousness of an argument between a girl and the love of her life whom she just caught sitting on the Ferris wheel with another, the short squeak of the wheelchair as a family moves their matriarch through the crowds and sets her in the shade of the small oak tree to watch the passersby.

Sarah stops at the oak tree, large now, wild and unkempt but beautiful in its own regard, the sentinel to the crossroads. Palm outstretched, Sarah caresses the rough bark, running her fingertips across the grooves and knots. She looks up, glimpsing the starry sky through the veil of fluttering leaves. Midnight blue turned emerald green. Sarah grips the solid trunk and seeks deep within her. She slowly feels the energy the tree possesses and draws it to her. Strong, pulsing through her hands, Sarah pulls at the stoic life force and pools it into her very veins.

It felt like ages since she gathered energy. She collects it, feasting greedily. Tendrils of energy snap between her and the tree. Stepping back quickly and looking at her hands, Sarah realizes her selfishness.

In the gathering dark her hands stand out like small twin beacons of light. They glow with energy they have amassed. Bringing her hands palm to palm, Sarah transfers a cluster of energy to their center and creates a small ball of light. She toys with the shining sphere, floating it briefly in the air and circling it with the merest touch of her delicate fingertips. Balancing it on her index finger, Sarah draws her face close to the ball and blows it gently back towards the tree. In the smooth breeze, the light sails in the air, blowing up into the canopy. The tree sighs and collects its energy, the light dimming as the oak essentially absorbs itself back.

A small smile plays across her lips, she is thankful for the surge of power. She needed it today, needs it to make the pass. Sarah remembers that morning and disappointment laces the edges of her thoughts.


*****

“Sarah, we are sorry.” Dr. Knot draped his exam coat over the back of his brown secretary chair as he walked around and sat opposite her. His mahogany table, gleaming and immaculate, spans the sea of intimacy between them.

“There is no easy way to say this... you are not responding to any medication we have prescribed to you, and if you do it seems to be an adverse reaction that only exacerbates your condition.” At this he leaned forward, his highly skilled surgical hands, well manicured and bristly with hair, folded in on themselves. “Sarah you are functioning on twenty percent. How is defying me, but you are functioning, barely. Your heart failure rate is climbing. It is only a matter of time.”

Sarah stared into her doctor’s blue eyes, fighting back the tears, fighting the energy tempting to explode.

“Sarah, we have placed you on a donor list. I have sent a request to the board. I want you at the top of the list. With your blood type and unresponsiveness to any medication, I am confident it will be approved.” Puzzled, Dr. Knot leaned back in his chair. “Sarah, I think this is the only way to go. Do you have any questions?”

Unable to trust herself, Sarah swallowed hard and shook her head forcefully. Dr. Knot watched her, concern clouding his face. He studied her closely as she went through the motions he had come to understand in the time he had spent treating her. Of all his patients, Sarah was his main concern. And the woman he loved and lost.

*****

Sarah had been carefree then, a dream siren, who consumed every fiber of his being. He had just moved his residency to the city and after weeks of juggling new patients, setting new routines, settling old affairs and tracking his furniture across the country, Derek had a day off. He decided to explore his new surroundings and with no destination in mind, he printed a series of maps and public transportation routes and set out to the train station two blocks from his apartment.

He stood on the platform, towards the back, away from the gaping drop to the tracks, studying a tourist map from the welcome desk above. He was trying to decide which train to hop on when he felt a tug. Confused, for no one touched him, he looked up and saw her. The train on the opposite track had just deposited some commuters, and she stood on the platform as the train pulled away. Her hair hung loose, curling wildly and hanging low. Her shirt, white and thin with pearl buttons, hugged her and was cut short, a bit of her tanned belly showing. Her skirt, also white and made of the same material as the shirt, spanned her slim waist, pulled daringly low as it fell and floated to her ankles.

Derek just stared at her. He watched her curiously as she began to dig in her bag, producing a small pill bottle. She tapped the bottle twice, hesitated and tapped it into her palm again. Sealing the cap, she replaced the bottle in her bag and popped the pills into her mouth like candy. Her eyes swept the station, scanning to see if anyone saw her. By then her hand fluttered to her collar, held lightly there as she tapped the beat with her other hand on her leg. Derek counted the taps, his index finger thrumming the beat on his own leg, his head tilting to the side as he pondered the irregularity.

As the train began to come into the station, she realized he was watching her, her eyes locking with his. And then she smiled, a dazzling smile that lit his very soul on fire. She dropped her hands, turned and walked away. Dumbfounded, he followed her with his eyes, even leaning to keep her in his sight. When his brain began to function clearly, he realized the obvious thing to do was to follow her. He sensed a medical complication, saw the signs, and he rationalized she might need a doctor's assistance. Politely as possible, regardless of the fact he wanted to shove everyone out of the way, he made his way through the platform and up the stairs she had taken.

How he wished he could go back to that day. To be able to see her as just Sarah again, as he saw her in those brief first glimpses, was the one thing he wished for most. Not as his patient, or as her doctor boring into every nook and cranny of her heart, only finding the defeating flaws. He remembered all the minute details of her that day. That day and every day after. They immediately connected and spent all their free time together. But the day he remembered most came a few months afterward, after she had her first massive attack and he became involved in her medical life.

“I’m pregnant.” She whispered so lightly in his ear, it was as though the breeze blew him a kiss. He couldn't comprehend the words and rolled over to face her. She was radiant, glowing, smiling. Clearly she was overjoyed, but before he could think his mouth opened.

“You cannot keep it. The meds are not designed for a pregnant woman. The complications are astronomical, let alone the strain to your heart.”

Her face fell. His heart broke. Her chin darted forward a bit, determination set. “I am pregnant.” With that she stood, dressed and left the apartment. He let her go.

He found her months later sitting in his office. She was distant, detached, but as beautiful as ever. On his desk sat a chart, her chart, thicker than he remembered. He looked to her, his right eyebrow raised, waiting for her to start.

“You are the best. Fix me. The attacks are unbearable. I have seen every specialist and they all say the same... you are the best. If I want a shot at being cured, you are my last resort.” Her tone, flat, was not his Sarah and he responded as such. He became her exclusive consulting doctor, and began instructing his staff through a barrage of tests, guinea-pigging her on every new and experimentive drug he could legally acquire. One test result he selfishly added to the list baffled him. Her pregnancy test came back negative. Sarah was no longer carrying his child.


*****

Sarah moves from the oak, walking the remaining steps to the center of the carnival. Sitting, resolutely, is a carousel. The craftsmanship and sweat behind every beast is apparent despite its age. Of all the articles left behind, the carousel was the one that held its own. The architect of the carousel wanted something different, not your average horse going around in circles. He created a mythical merry-go-round, studying ancient lore and folktales of every heritage and culture of the world. What was created was his masterpiece, a masterpiece that once he died was left behind.

Sarah steps on the ledge of the carousel, walking clockwise, facing each beast individually. She lets a hand trail behind her, touching each animal as she passes. The ethereal unicorn, the knowledgeable sphinx, the powerful dragon. Sarah ducks under the blue wings of the dragon, outstretched, ready to catch the willing breeze and sees her peryton.

Its sleek body, bronzed, strong, lithe, was set in a jump, hind legs crouching. The peryton's amber eyes aimed toward the sky, seeking the next flight. Sarah stood in front of this beautiful beast, placing a hand on its forehead.

“Will you take me tonight? Will you take me again?” Sarah closes her eyes as she asks the statue her question, as she does every time she makes a pass. Her hands, filling with the energy she has stored and drawing from her own, begin the transfer to her peryton.

The dull bronze of the peryton begins to shine, the sleek body rounding out, the wooden statue becoming flesh. Wings, unfurling, stretch and tuck neatly back to its sides. Eyes deepening to liquid honey blink and stare back at Sarah. Unquestioningly, the peryton kneels on one knee, granting Sarah her answer.

Sarah, breathless, hands numb, chest throbbing, scrambles onto the peryton and lets it lift off and glide through the air. She has exhausted more energy than ever before, stealing from the reserves she holds to keep her functioning. As the peryton takes her through the air, Sarah hangs on and lets her mind loose.

She must keep the energy running through her; she is taking a big chance making the pass this time. Her medication is failing, her heart is deteriorating. She had left her world to find a cure, and perhaps an escape; in her quest she found so much more and now has left so much behind that begged for her to return. Her hands, the keeper of most of her energy, feel dull and lifeless. There is nowhere for her to collect more, and the peryton needs and will use all that she has given it to get her there and back. All she can do is hold on, rest and let her faithful creature get her home.

The journey, slow and deliberate, has taken its toll on Sarah. She is not only traveling through distance but through the veil of worlds, through the veil of time. She leaves the world she lives in now, the world of constant forward reality, and enters the shroud of her true world, a world comprised of altered time and reality. She fears this may be her last pass, one she should not have made. She could not resist, not today, not with the prospect of never returning. Sarah fights hard the tears wanting to overflow. She needs to be cured; she knows it is her only salvation. In her world there are no guarantees to the sick. Altered reality means altered life, and only the strong, the healthy survive.

The peryton makes its descent, floating and landing softly on its small black hooves. It takes a few paces toward a forest of willows, and stops. Sarah slides off the peryton, her hand brushing its back where she had sat. Knowing it would stand and wait for her, she heads toward the forest and steps into it.

Sarah pulls a drape of the willow branches back, the silky leaves heavy with moisture and cool to the touch. Ducking her head below her upstretched arm, Sarah pauses and peers through the small gap she creates in the wall of willows. Ahead of her sits a floating island, lush and full of foliage. The surrounding water is the only sustenance they receive and it is sufficient. Every living thing thrives and none stand lacking. To the far right a marble gazebo is raised, exploding in vines and flowers of every color vividly imaginable.

The moon gleams, glittering off the smooth ripples of the clear black waters surrounding the small island. Mystic fireflies, twinkling blue, yellow and green light portions of the sky. It is in these flashes she lays eyes on the child.

Sarah hears the child before she comes through the gazebo’s gilded arches. Her laughter, a filter of giggles, sighs and breaths, ripple on the breeze. It surrounds Sarah on all sides, thrumming. Sarah’s eyes cloud with tears and she drags a hand across them, frustration building at missing the child for the briefest of moments.

Fireflies surround the child, illuminating her in a rainbow of colors, making her clearly visible to Sarah. Absorbing her details, Sarah watches the child, her smooth pale face, upturned towards the lights, baby fat clinging to her cheeks. Her rosy lips, full and moist, spread wide in a smile and then dip in a pout while the fireflies skim out of reach. Dusty wheat ringlets fall down her back, the golden wisps framing her face bobbing with each toddle of her sturdy legs.

Her blue gown, cut short, gives her the freedom to move. Pearls and sapphires hem her full sleeves and sit in her ears and on her throat. Luxury has come naturally to a child so young, the luxury of living in a world of dreams. Sarah watches, her breath ragged with longing, her hands tingling. Sarah begins collecting the energy surrounding her and creates a small ball, white and clear, and sends it across the water.

It takes the child time to notice the new light, so encased in her small rainbow, but as the ball grows closer the fireflies retreat, awed by the purity of white. The child reaches, chubby hands, small and stretched. Velvet-wrapped feet, warm and wrinkled, rise on tip-toes as the ball hovers. Sarah controls the ball, letting the child smile and babble in delight. Selfishly she begins to withdraw the sphere, back across the lake, turning the child toward her spot on the willow bank.

“Your absences grow longer.” A sharp voice rasps through the branches. A tall, frail woman steps through, pulling at the branches as well, peering through the same gap.

“One day you must return to claim her. She cannot live here alone forever, she must know of you.”

“I cannot, not until I know I can stay with her.” Sarah's hands, powerful in their own right, clutch at her chest, the dull pain throbbing, her heart racing its peculiar beat. “Only there can I have a chance of being saved. She is not of the world, she cannot follow me there, though it pains me to leave her behind and only steal glimpses of her.”

With that Sarah looks back to the child. The orb she created still dancing delicately out of reach, the child fully facing the willows. Big brown eyes face the trees, visible in the light. Sarah pulls the ball toward her, willing the child to follow its dips and swirls, daring her to see.

Just inches from her place in the trees, she extinguishes the energy returning it, knowing this energy cannot follow her back. She continues to watch the child in the dimming moonlight. Fresh tears sit on the brim of Sarah’s eyes. Turning from the island, she moves deeper back into the willow branches.

“A name, she must have a name.” The old woman croaks behind her.

Sarah breathes... “Isabelle.”


Author: Bianca Pagani
Copyright: SalvationWriter Publishing 2010

Angel and Salvation

As the midnight wind blew

The world moved without realization

That between the brink of heaven and hell

Stood an Angel and Salvation


The Angel stood

tears falling from her eyes.

Salvation stared willing a way to bring

Her back from the ledge, from the depths

To heal her and mend her broken wings


She turned her head

to cast a glance

Behind her he prayed and beckoned

Salvation willed the Angel's return

And hoped she'd pause for a second


"This is all willed by god himself"

Salvation whispered to the Angel

"These are games of the devil"

Against Salvation cried the Angel


"Peace I shall bring to thee"

Salvation resolved again

"Peace is laced with bitterness"

The Angel she defended


Pulling from depths of his soul

Salvation slowly relented

"My dearest Angel

let me love you

In that all may be mended"


The Angel

wings battered and defeated

Toes pulled

curled along the edge

Took breath and let bitterness dissolve away

And move she did

further from the ledge


As the midnight wind blew

The world moved without realization

That together in each other's arms

Stood an Angel and Salvation.


Author: Bianca Pagani
Copyrighted by SalvationWriter Publishing 2009

Witching Hour

Set upon the Witching Hour


Neither pauses to think

Across the span of time and space

We stand upon the brink



Illuminated against the pale moonlight

Unwillingly you show your fear

Undeniable is the fact

Your desire to pull me near



Flickering in and out of shadows

My eyes, deep, you see

Smoldering fire within their depths

Of untold passions that can be



A shiver courses over your skin

Internally you fight against

Emotions vying to take control

Growling, you give into torment



My hands began to throb

Gathering the energy you exude

Pooling, drawing power to me

My body I elude



Swiftly I rise in the air

Golden wings spread wide

To circle my fierce Lycan

And fly along his side



Set upon the Witching Hour

Neither pauses to think

A Hawk teaches a Wolf to fly

To cross the span between the brink


Author: Bianca Pagani
Copyrighted by SalvationWriter Publishing 2009

Slow Burn

I can feel it


Breathtaking, magnificent

Tingling, the joy

Wondrous excitement,

Fulfilling dreams of tomorrow

The winds of change blow strong


Overpowering

Overwhelming

Yet I cannot touch it


I can feel it


Simmering, bubbling

Intensifying the pain


Creeping up

Unexpectedly

From the darkest corners

Illuminating the reminder of what is real


Searing inside my flesh

Agonizing, burning

Tearing me apart


A cool breeze soars in

Flames tempered but not snuffed

And the remnants of the burn

Persist


In time the tempest will subside

Air flowing freely

Without restriction

The slow burn extinguished


A bright and beautiful blaze emerges

With the wind to carry it

Spreading across the land


Together

The two forces

Unstoppable


Author: David Gruben
Copyrighted by SalvationWriter Publishing 2009

Wolf Song

I sit surrounded by the tall grass


Golden stalks swaying in the wind

I close my eyes and strain to hear

The rumbling songs as they begin



Distant, low, the chorus starts

All vying to overpower

I stay, patiently still

As the songs course through the hours



A shimmering sphere across the sky

The full moon makes its way

Closer the songs reach my ears

Blood warm, I am unafraid



Slowly the mournful bales die away

All except for one

My heart begins to race

As a familiar song is begun



Low, deep the cadence fills my soul

Melodic, the strains catch my breath

Crying the song of yearning and loss

Haunting, the sounds will stay with me till death



Closer still my singer dares

The distant howls have come near

I feel his breath, exhaled deeply

Warming, soothingly in my ear



Across from me in the dusky fields

The starry sky lending its light

Amber eyes amid a coat of black

Have come for me tonight



Through all time and space

I have sat many a night alone

Waiting for my wolf to return

To find his way back home


Author: Bianca Pagani
Copyrighted by SalvationWriter Publishing 2009

Line in the Sand

I stand, silently still


On the edge of the horizon

Wind blowing, bringing careful whispers

As the waves crash beyond



The sun, its warmth across my heart

Give the sky a mellow glow

My toes, they seek in the sand

A line drawn below



White crested waves, they begin

The tide it has turned

Closer to shore they come

On them my dreams returned



Slinking, rippling towards the line

The waters they have reached

Claiming resolve and determination

Inhibitions have been breached



Walls broken, barriers dropped

I step over a line once was

Arms outstretched, I soar above

Into a land of lost desires and love


Author: Bianca Pagani
Copyrighted by SalvationWriter Publishing 2009

New Dawn

A small town

In the middle

Of nowhere

Destiny converged.


Two like minds

And two like spirits

Lead completely separate lives


Two comets aflame

Each bound by fate

For the same destination


Reaching ground zero

An explosive, cataclysmic event


As hopes and dreams,

Friendship and love

All came together


To create a new dawn

They

Would never be the same.


Author: David Gruben
Copyrighted by SalvationWriter Publishing 2009