You have lit

a candle inside

of me. With

every touch, each

caress, each brush

of your lips

against mine,

the flame grows.

I had thought

the flame to

be extinguished, only

a mere finger

of smoke that

moved and undulated

inside me. Now,

the tiny tongue

of flame is

a light all

its own inside

of me. Every

time you tell

me those three

simple words with

a precious magic

all their own,

(I love you)

each word like

a caress along

my heart, the

flame grows brighter

still until I

am filled to

the brim with

love and light

for you.

 

The room was

filled with smoke

when I came

in. They all

looked up at

me: Frank Fatigue,

Bob Balance, Steven

Speech. Travis Tremors,

Brian Brain Fog.

Sergio Spasm was

there too as

well as two

other shadowy shapes.

I looked at

all of them

and wished all

of them away.

Seven could see

the look of

distaste I wore.

“Come on, don’t be that way. Take a seat. We’re playing poker.”

I grumbled something

about needing a

cup of tea,

but Brian waved

a hand at

me. He let

out a laugh.

“Come on, it won’t take long. We’ll make it a short game. What’s the harm?”

The harm was

that I didn’t

like any of

them, that I

wanted all of

them to go

away and leave

me as I

was, as I

had been. Brian

was especially perceptive,

and I knew

he could read

my mind, having

shared so much

of it with

me. He nodded.

“We don’t like it much either. You’ll have to take that up with Max Shadow.”

One of the

shadow shapes moved

into the light

and I saw

Max Shadow for

the first time.

He was thin

with pallid skin

and long greasy

hair. He looked

like what I

imagined Flagg from

the Stand would

look like. He

smiled at me.

“Did someone say my name?”

He said, his

voice as oily

as his hair.

The other shadow

moved into sight

and I saw Cedric

Paulson for the

first time. He

looked like me

from a younger

age, but stretched

into adulthood, as

if he was

not fully in

control of his

thin limbs. He

looked as if

a stiff wind

would knock him

over and his

hands were shaking.

“Well, if you’re playing, so am I.”

He said. His

voice sounded unsure

of itself, as

if he was

not used to

standing up for

himself. He sighed

and his shoulders

dropped, though the

rest of him

still shook slightly.

“That is, if there’s room.”

“Of course there’s room.”

Travis said. His

voice was cheerful,

even though it

shook. He gave

me a smile.

“Come on, we saved a seat just for you.”

Sergio motioned with

his hand, also

smiling at me.

“Come on, it’s a good seat. Look, I have a cup of tea right here.”

He reached for

a cup on the

table, but back

chose that moment

to seize up

and when he

spoke next, it

was with obvious

pain. I motioned

to Sergio flippantly.

“Will he be all right?”

Max Shadow gave

me an oily

smile and a

small mirthless laugh.

“Of course he will. You’re okay, aren’t you?”

I didn’t know

how to answer

that question, so

moved through the

fog of smoke

and took my

seat. They watched

me as if

afraid I would

bolt from my

chair and run

from the room.

They all puffed

smoke out of

their mouths. I

did not, but

watched as the

smoke formed animals,

like each one

of them had

a Patronus of

some kind, an

animal that represented

their force. I

coughed and waved

my hand through

the smoke. Cedric

let out a

laugh and passed

me the deck

of cards. He

motioned to me.

“It’s your turn to deal.”

I took the

cards in my

hand and went

to shuffle them.

It was then

that I saw

they weren’t playing

cards. They were

tarot cards. I

looked up at

all of them,

not understanding. They

looked back at

me. Finally, from

inside a cloud

of smoke, Max

Shadow spoke softly.

“The game is simple, really. Draw five cards and see what they have to say.”

“What kind of poker is this?”

“Well, the stakes are a little high, I’m afraid.”

He smiled, his

teeth shining through

the smoke, and

held out his

hands to the

side, as if

to say mea

culpa. He motioned

to the cards.

“You just have to see what they say. We’ll all be playing along with you.”

“How is that possible?”

“We’re part of you and anything is possible. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

I blinked my

eyes and they

were gone from

the room. However,

I could feel

them in me:

Frank, Bob, Steven,

Travis, Brian, Sergio.

Max and Cedric

were there too.

They were all

looking through my

eyes. I sighed

and shuffled the

cards, thinking my

question silently. I

closed my eyes,

just for a

moment. Then I

drew three card

and looked down

at what the

cards had to

say.

It was the

same every year.

The day after

my birthday, a

thin crust would

begin to form

on my skin.

Throughout the year,

it would grow

tougher, as if

made from stone

or marble. It

would grow thicker,

It would become

more difficult to

move as the

year passed on,

harder to move

my body as

I wanted to.

The evening before

my birthday, the

crust would begin

to crack and

break, flaking off

and falling to

the floor. I

would sweep the

pile of dust

up off the

floor and place

it in a

small cloth bag.

I don’t know

why I kept

the dust, why

I held onto

1. It felt

right somehow, like

I was expected

1. This year

was different. The

layer of thickness

that covered my

skin began to

break and crack

the evening before

my birthday. However,

when the shell

that had made

a mould of

my body began

to break, it

slipped free to

reveal something different

about my body.

I had wings.

They were tattooed

along my skin

but if I focused

on flying, they

slipped out of

my skin and

would flutter in

the air and

I would rise

up a few

feet. When I

didn’t want to

fly, they would

rest once again

along my skin,

simple lines of

ink. I panicked,

wondering what was

wrong with me.

I gathered up

my cloth bags

of dust and

brought them to

a wise woman.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong with me?”

She looked at

the tattooed wings,

ran her fingers

along them. I

made the wings

flutter for her.

She then looked

at the bags

of dust. I

looked at her.

“This was not made from a shell as you describe.”

“What was it then?”

She looked at

me with eyes

that were a

deep, dark brown.

“It was a chrysalis.”

Her words sent

my wings fluttering

anew. It seemed

that they agreed

with her assessment.

“I don’t understand. It’s always been just a shell before. Why now?”

She put her

fingers in the

most recent cloth

bag and took

them out. Pinched

between her fingers

was a glittering

powder. She let

it trickle from

her fingers and

it glittered in

the soft light.

“Would a shell produce this? As to why now? Well, the butterfly goes through several stages. The Chrysalis is just one of them.”

I shook my

head in bewilderment.

“Why now?”

Her brown eyes

saw so much.

They saw right

into the core

of my heart.

“Because you were ready.”

“I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.”

She laughed lightly

and the sound

was calming instead

of being jarring.

“Isn’t it obvious? What does a butterfly do when it leaves it’s crysalis?”

I shook my

head, not knowing

how to respond.

She simply said:

“It flies.”