You may think me guilty. You may even be right about that. However! I will admit to nothing.

Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 3rd Generation
Current Date: June 26, 2058

Character: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Halfling – Angel / Elf (snow) / Human / Vampire
Age: 48, physically about 24
Current residence: Atheria City, Eresiel
 

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There are times when I think about that snowy owl that I dropped off to Faith those fifteen or so months ago. I never really checked in after I’d dropped it off, in a way, I think I was worried that by doing so, I’d be tempted to offer to foster it and I don’t know that I would have been the right person for that. So, I didn’t. I do faintly remember Faith letting me know that it was doing well, and it had been released back into the wild but that’s all I know about it.

For just a bare few moments, some time in the following week or so, I did give thought to the idea of a pet but it was a very, very brief thing. I know that we’re better off without an extra in our lives. I’ve heard so many stories—I might not socialize much but I do still go with Seb to the market—about pets that I can imagine all the ups and downs that might happen with having one and I’m just not sure I can deal with that kind of thing.

I don’t want to see myself as being emotionally fragile, but I think that after what happened while I was growing up, I don’t think I can handle so well the thought of rejection in any way, shape or form. Not really. Even if it’s just from a pet being a butthead about something or other. Yeah, I know it would probably be rare. Yeah, I know that there are likely going to be far more positive days than negative ones, but I can’t help it.

Yeah, I’ve imagined—even if briefly—myself smiling wryly at coming into our living room, or our kitchen, or whichever spot, to finding a mess clearly pet-made only for that pet to have that innocent little look on their face as though they’re claiming their innocence while we think them guilty but that they’d never admit to doing anything wrong even while it was clear that they’d done it.

Wild, the things I can think about even just briefly, right? Yeah.

Yes, I know that this particular situation could very well also never happen. It would depend on the type of pet we’d get. This whole refusal thing could also potentially never happen.

In a way, I think this whole thing is also based on the fact that I could never have kids of my own. Even if that was a thought at all in the community at large—which currently, it seems not to be—I just don’t think I could.

There is something very deeply set in me that is afraid that I would be one of the worse mothers there could be. This, I know, stems from my own childhood and I’ve spent enough time with my doc to know this very well but it’s trauma and it has left its mark. No amount of trying to talk me into believing I could be a good mother would help at all, I know.

All in all, one very shitty event in my life is all it took for me to have these beliefs and, you know what, I’ve mostly made my peace with that. I know that there’s only so much that can be done about it. I’ve forgiven both my fathers as much as I could. I do spend time with them but never truly on my own. I can still see the regret in their eyes, even if they’ve learned to hide it a bit better. I don’t know what feels worse, knowing that they have these scars just like I do but for different reasons.

It doesn’t help me in letting go of the whole thing. It really doesn’t. It’s probably for the best that it doesn’t too. In a way, we’ve settled into our lives in such a way that things work out well for us, but they will never be fixed—telling your kid that you wish they’d never been born will do that—and I’m okay with the way things are.

I tend to go and visit just a few short times a year, but certain holidays are avoided altogether. Father’s Day, for one. I used to when I was younger. Before the whole thing, and even now, I feel as though neither one of them was comfortable around that holiday. I don’t think it’s what led to the issue, but you know. It’s okay—it’s not, but it is. On that day, I tend to mostly let Seb take the reins because I prefer to not think about much of anything if I can help it.

I live my life as best as I can and I know my limitations, that’s all there is to it.

Final Word Count: 803

I have to admit I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time. I look forward to working with all of you again.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Characters: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Human
Age: 35
Current residence: New York City Ruins, New York
Final Word Count: 823 words
 

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This new, different life has allowed me—us all—a second chance in life. It might seem like a morbid thing to think about when you do stop for a moment to realize these things, but it is what it is. Without the snow, the bunker, Doctor Flynn, I wouldn’t be right here, where I am today. I wouldn’t be able to be out there in the sun for short bursts of time. I’ve loved being able to watch that sun rise without my skin almost instantly blistering. Not that it was that bad before, but I only had to spend a minute or two under that sun to have second-degree burns and it wasn’t exactly pleasant.

I can’t imagine that anyone likes the idea of being burned; it’s not exactly fun in the long run and the healing process is slow. I’ve been there, I’ve done that, I love my mother but at times she seemed to forget simple enough things. Not that I hold it against her. Furthest from. It’s just one of these things.

I had few contacts with the people I used to work with until I transferred to working from home. It was just easier. I could keep the windows of my sub-basement apartment covered and that was that. I worked during the days, and I did my shopping after the sun had set. I had a routine; a routine that changed when Seb stepped into my life, but I have absolutely no regrets on that particular front. None.

Even after Doc Flynn told me that I could stand to be outside for short periods of time, it was terrifying. I’d spent my whole life afraid of what being out in the sun would be like; I’d had a few first-hand experiences and I never wanted to go through that again if I could help it. When I stepped outside, I made sure to stay in the shadows at the very beginning but, eventually, I learned just how long, or not, I could spend in the light, and I adapted to that. I know that I’m not the only one with this condition. That a handful of us with this rare condition all managed to survive the snow makes me wonder as to the odds.

During that time spent in the deeper shadows of things while trying to come to terms with the fact that I could be in the sun, I people-watched. I didn’t do it so I could learn everything about everyone that came around, certainly not. I did it because it was about the only thing I could do. It was that or watch the greenery all around us grow and that never truly was appealing.

So, I watched people. I might have learned a hint of social behaviour from that watching too; yes, I’d worked with others, but our interactions had been minimal, then I’d landed a work-from-home job and I’d been around people, in a physical sense, even less so. Being in the bunker was hard because I didn’t know how to deal with so many people.

One of the things I’ve learned is that some people seem to need the presence of others to smile. It might seem like a truly simple thing to some, but it was an eye-opening moment for me. I’d seen this particular man quite a bit before I noticed this quirk of his; I mean, he lived in the same building we did. We’d crossed paths a few times, but we’d never shared more than a passing nod. It was one afternoon that I realized this little tidbit, though; at least, that’s how I remember it.

I’d been roaming the edge of the building, trying to will the courage to step into the sun into being but it was hard. I’d been in the dark shade of the building for a while at this point, giving quick looks at what had been growing in the garden that surrounds it. I heard him before I saw him and the others, but he was laughing, something I didn’t think he knew how to do. He always looked so sombre. Though I suppose I shouldn’t judge, I have no idea how others perceive me.

Still, I didn’t imagine him as the laughing type, and he was laughing on that day. It brightened up his whole face. I remember hearing him tell the others that were walking back with him that he hadn’t laughed as hard as he had in a very long time and that he was looking forward to working with the group again. In a way, it felt strangely good to witness that interaction they had. I might not know much about him—even now, years later as he’s very keep-to-himself—but I still believe that like everyone else, he deserves to smile and seeing him smile and laugh, on that particular afternoon, was a good thing.

When you’ve been alive for centuries, things like this stop surprising you.

 
Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 3rd Generation
Characters: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Halfling – Angel / Elf (snow) / Human / Vampire
Age: 46, physically about 24
Current residence: Atheria City, Eresiel
Final Word Count: 799 words
 

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At times, I dream that I’ve been alive for much longer than I have. In these dreams, I can never see myself. I only have my thoughts to base myself on and the thoughts do mostly sound as though they might have come from me. It’s fairly rare, in these dreams, that I even hear myself talk. There’s never really anyone to talk to and that’s one of the things that make these dreams borderline bad. I mean, I don’t think they’re bad dreams so much that they’re confusing dreams and I can never make heads or tails of them.

In most of these dreams, the recurring theme is usually about how I’ve been alive for so many centuries that a lot of things have stopped surprising me. That actually almost sums up most of these weird dreams that just come and go as they might please. I wake up in a place that seems to have nothing to really tell me where I am, and I complain, internally as I look out a window overlooking some other place that I’ve never seen before in my life, that I shouldn’t even be surprised that things are as they are, I’ve witnessed it all so often before.

Short version, it makes no sense.

Long version, it still makes no sense.

What is my brain trying to tell me, really? I have no idea. I know that I’m not that old. I haven’t made it to fifty yet, which is weird because I know that from reading older books and things about life out there, fifty isn’t young. It’s not ridiculously old, but it’s not young. There’s nothing young about being fifty but, to me, right this moment, fifty isn’t old.

So, whatever it is that triggers these odd dreams, I have no idea. It just is what it is, and I have to deal with them, but it gets repetitive fairly quickly when I have that dream more than once a week or so. I’m tired of waking up, in the dream, in a large room in what seems like a tower. Everything in the room is stone, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. The bed is a four-poster beast of a thing that could probably sleep five or six. I don’t remember ever settling into that bed when I’m in the dream state.

When I walk to the window, it’s to a terrain that is never actually the same. Most of the time, it feels somewhat desolate, but I don’t think that’s the right word. It’s just, it’s not barren, it doesn’t look like it’s unwelcoming to others, but it’s the fact that there are no others. As far as the eye can see, no matter the landscape in front of me, I can never see any single hint of there being another living, breathing being around.

A huge, dense forest of pines with a strange turquoise early-morning sky? No smoke, no houses, no cabins, not even the sound of birds. Not in this particular forest landscape. There have been some distant birds when, as I look out that window, I see the water landscape. An ocean just some yards away from the edge of whatever it is I am in. A housing perched atop a tall cliff or a hill. I’ve never been able to get out of this particular room. All dreams centre on my being in this room, complaining without words about how I’m too old and nothing is surprising anymore, and, well that’s about it. Me looking out of that window.

Some of the scenery I’ve been shown in these dreams is beautiful. I’ve tried to sketch things out but I’m not very good with that. What makes the dreams borderline bad is the fact that there’s no one else. There is such a sense of loneliness attached to the whole feel of the dream that it makes me ache. I don’t like being alone. I know I’m not emotionally dependent on Seb, but the less time I spend away from him, the better.

So, in these dreams, in which, at times, I’ve spent what feels like days just staring out that window—seeing the passing time by the sun going up and down and up again—there is no one else for me to even turn to or look at or feel their presence next to me, it’s not right. It’s uncomfortable in ways that I just can’t put into words and that’s all there is to it. I really don’t know how else to put it into words and I try not to because a tiny little part of me feels as though thinking about it all too much would make these dreams more frequent and that’s one of the last things I want.

I tried not to care. There’s no way I could turn away, though.

 
Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 3rd Generation
Characters: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Halfling – Angel / Elf (snow) / Human / Vampire
Age: 45, physically about 24
Final Word Count: 701 words
 

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It’s not every day you come across a tiny little bird—it wasn’t tiny but at that time it looked tiny to me—that clearly looks like it is struggling to keep moving? You help it, of course. I turned to actually ignore it. I did. I wasn’t equipped to help with a bird that was dealing with a potentially broken wing but the thought of leaving it there also bothered me. I also admit that it took me way too long to realize that I could just bring it to Faith and technically, that would have been that.

My mind was a bit of a mussy mess right at that point. I hadn’t been sleeping well and I’d gone for a very early morning walk during which I’d gathered branches and whatnot that would be set out to be dried and later on used in the fireplace. Mind you, we have plenty of wood for the fireplace. We didn’t need more but I’d been so spaced out from the weird dream I had that just gathering wood had been done as an automatism.

So there I was, my arms loaded with branches and a tiny bird—a snowy owl, I later learned—not far from me. It wasn’t that small, it just looked small to me at that point but I think I’ve pointed out that my brain wasn’t exactly functioning at a hundred percent yet; it still was dark out.

I might have remained standing there for nearly ten minutes, the little—not that little—thing just not moving and me with my armload of branches and twigs standing there. I wanted to turn away, I did. I just couldn’t. So I set my armload down, I looked at the bird a moment more and I carefully approached.

In a way, I thought it would have maybe tried to hop away or something but it stayed where it was, seeming to be watching me, that one wing limp at its side. It still was partially covered in downy feathers so I’m not even sure why I thought that it might have had an issue with its wing. It wasn’t all that visible that it was holding that wing limp, I mostly realized that as I picked it up.

Branches and twigs at my feet, not so tiny bird in my hands—there was no struggling, no fussing, as though perhaps it was hoping I would help it or it had simply given up on things. I stared at it for a long moment, my brain taking a long moment more to finally realize I wasn’t just looking at a cute little tweety bird and what I was handling definitely looked more owlish than not.

I’m not sure how long it took me to walk back to the house. It still was way too early to bother Faith about it so I just went back home, made it a little box with an old towel in it, set it down there and just, waited. I did give it some water, figuring that that, at least, was something I could do. I had no idea as far as food was concerned and I didn’t really want to chance it.

Only once I knew it was settled properly and I assumed it wouldn’t move much—it hadn’t—did I go back out there to get my armful of wood back. There was no point in letting that go to waste. So I went back out, walked the distance barely realizing just how far I’d walked, and I walked back. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon by the time I’d come back and inside where I warmed up a little and just sat down to keep an eye on the little thing.

I waited until Seb was awake, we waited for a little longer before we got in touch with Faith and the little bugger has been with her since. I don’t really know what’s going to happen to it at this point but that’s okay. I’d like to think I’ve sort of done my thing and that this is as good as things are going to get. So that’s that.

The leather jacket was supposed to help my image, but I’ve been laughed at twice now.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Characters: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Human
Age: 33
Final Word Count: 722 words
 

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I suppose it might be strange to admit that I didn’t know a single thing about leather as a wearable, or, well, leather at all, up until I was an adult. Not that it changed much in my life. Once I discovered all that I’d never known about—and I know there is plenty I never had time to discover—I didn’t change the way I lived my life. I didn’t go out of my way to find a leather jacket or leather pants. I didn’t go out of my way to try this or that thing because it was new and strange and unusual. I didn’t really have any need for that.

I’d even left most of that behind when we came to the bunker. I figured that with all that snow, most things I never had had a chance to try in life never would be available for me again and I was actually fine with that. I hadn’t led a complicated life and I liked to keep things simple. It meant I didn’t have to fuss with making sure that everything I was trying for would fit my nocturnal lifestyle. A lifestyle I changed a little when Seb came into my life, of course, but still.

So I’m sure that my surprise wasn’t all that surprising when one of our neighbours came out of their apartment one day with an old but well-worn looking leather jacket. Not that I knew it was a leather jacket from the get-go, it was only when she told me that this was what it was that I knew. I didn’t want to touch it, it looked weird to me but she seemed comfortable in it.

Cue a few hours later, however, as she’s coming back inside, she’s huffing and almost in tears. She tells me that the leather jacket had been meant to help her image—whatever that is supposed to mean, was she trying to be one of the ‘cool kids’?—but that she’d been laughed at twice during the few hours she’d been outside. I suppose it might have been inevitable, maybe. I mean, I don’t know how many people have had time to pack up items like these in their escape from the clutches of the snow and I assume that the jacket came from a raid to one of the recovered stores.

That it was in as good condition as it looked was surprising. So many clothing items hadn’t fared so well with the snow, though quite a bit had done well too. I think it depended on how far or deep down and ‘safe’ from the weather the stores had been. Not that I’ve changed my wardrobe much over the last few years but I know that quite a few people didn’t have a whole lot to bring with them, clothing-wise, when the transports picked up.

Life has changed in such a drastic way but we’re still just as we’ve always been, I think. My neighbour is a prime example of this. Why go through the trouble of trying to look ‘cool’ when it doesn’t really matter much anymore? Am I just wrong about that? Are there still stupid cliques out there and people grouping together because that’s just normal human behaviour?

We’re pack animals, for the most part, I know. That doesn’t mean that it’s right for cliques to crop back up and pick on other people. It’s not really fair, that’s how I see it. Not that I get much of a say. I never had friends growing up, not with the lifestyle I had to keep to. That I made friends with Seb at all is a mystery in and of itself. That he’s in my life so many years later is nothing short of a beautiful and wonderful miracle for which I’m thankful every single day of my life. We’ve found one another, we were both a little broken but we worked so well together that it’s all I could ever ask for. All I could ever dream of.

That I now can spend a little bit of time in the sun is also a sweet little miracle I’m absolutely grateful for but even if I couldn’t and he was in my life, I would have been one very happy woman.

Look deep into my eyes. I. Do. Not. Care.

 
Timeline/World: New York City – Surviving Earth
Characters: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Human
Age: 32
Final Word Count: 632 words
 

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I’m patient. I mean, I’ve learned to be. Being stuck inside most places and living at night for the longest of times because of my skin condition, there wasn’t much I could do beyond learn patience and all. I worked from home once I left my mother’s care. She was a good person but I needed to do my own thing and well, I couldn’t do that while still living at the house. I spent nineteen years living at night, two years in a hospital for treatment and after that, I was living on my own.

I had a job in the daytime; it was in an office without any nearby windows so it was mostly safe. Let me tell you that when the snow first started falling and we had to go to the pick-up point, it was terrifying. I still couldn’t handle the sunlight and the pick-up was during the day. Sure, there were clouds and it wasn’t bright outside beyond the white of the snow but it still wasn’t a pleasant experience.

Still, we made it and look at us now. I can handle some sunlight for short periods of time but it’s better than no sun at all and it has allowed me to help around the hub. I don’t like feeling useless. I don’t know that anyone likes feeling useless but I suppose it’s possible. I’m not one of these people and even though my job back before the snow was repetitive and frustrating, it still was a job and it helped me keep a roof over my head.

Here, that wasn’t much of an issue, there were no payments necessary for that roof, and food was usually handed out at first and then gotten through an exchange of goods later on. Still, I felt the need to pull my weight and I did.

Now, as I said, I’m patient. Almost to a fault, I think you could say but there’s this one woman recently who has been pushing too far. I think she’s blind to things that are right in front of her, one of them being my relationship to Seb. Now, we’re not all in your face about it, but we hold hands, we share the same apartment, we kiss in public—pecks, none of that face-sucking thing—it’s easy to see, really.

She’s blind to it. I think she’s been doing this for a month solid and it’s been an every-day sort of thing where she comes to me, somehow finding me no matter where I’m at, and telling me about her perfect brother who’s got a soft spot for me and how she thinks we’d be so good together.

It’s getting old. I even got in her face just yesterday about it. I told her to take the hint, to realize I wasn’t interested. I told her to look way deep into my eyes and see that I just didn’t care about her brother. It was tempting to tell her that if he’s so perfect, she should just date him herself but I’m not that kind of person, no matter how frustrated I am with her behaviour. Seb’s aware, he’s been aware from day one but I don’t think this woman is going to take the hint. I might just have to meet that oh-so-wonderful brother of hers and tell him about her behaviour and my lack of desire to be anything to him. I hope it can get through to him but at this point, I’m almost just, I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m at my wit’s end and if she doesn’t take the hint, I’m going to have to do something I might regret and who knows what that might turn out to be.

We never understood each other.

 
Timeline/World: Atheria – 3rd Generation
Characters: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Halfling – Angel / Elf (snow) / Human / Vampire
Age: 44, physically about 24
Final Word Count: 628 words
 

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I wish I could say I had a happy childhood and that I love visiting my parents but I would be lying. My childhood, for the most part, wasn’t a horror story, not really. My fathers did their best and I didn’t know any better, I couldn’t tell that there was something different about my parents; I didn’t know that there really was something odd about them, at least compared to other families.

I didn’t have many friends while growing up but that’s because I wasn’t very outgoing, it came from my parents, that. I saw family members every so often but they didn’t seem to be spending a lot of time with other friends and they weren’t overly demonstrative of affection, be it towards me or towards one another—at least, when I was there. I don’t know what their private life was like and I’m not going to ask, it’s not my place.

So when Seb came into my life and I got to spend some rare time at his place, when I met his parents properly for the first time, I was a little confused but I kept it to myself. I figured that every family was different and I had no right to really judge anyone. I was honestly worried when he met my parents for the first time but they were warm and welcoming to him.

Of course, by that time, my life had just gone to hell in a handbasket when I was told that they’d never wanted a child but that came out in anger and while it was hard to forgive and forget, time helped. Though I forgave, I did, I don’t know that I’ll ever forget. There’s no way to explain how much it hurts to be told that you’re unwanted, that you shouldn’t exist.

So when they met Seb as I introduced him as my boyfriend more than just my friend, they were struggling to make amends so they were going out of their way to be nice.

I moved out as soon as I could. I can wrap my mind around the fact that it was clear I never understood my fathers and they likely never understood me. Sure, my grandparents on both sides tore each of them a new one when they learned about their little ‘slip’ but the ‘bad’ had already been done and there was no salvaging it, not in a proper way.

So sure, I do go to my parents’ house for particular holidays but not all of them, I go to Seb’s more often than not because it’s what makes sense and I feel welcomed there. With my parents, even though it’s been decades, we still walk on eggshells around each other. I spend time with my grandparents, though, they’re great and they were supportive during the issue.

Do I look at families where everyone gets along fine with some longing? Sure. I think I’d be a fool not to but I know that’s never going to happen. I’ve forgiven as much as I can. I’ve moved on as best as I can but there’s still a stone somewhere in there, something maybe more like a shackle than a stone. They’ve crossed that one line that likely never should have been crossed when they were fighting and they took that anger out on me.

I refuse to believe that I’m just a mistake, something they weren’t ready for, something they regret. Thinking back on that day just hurts so much, no matter how long it’s been, that I’d rather forget about the whole thing if I could but I can’t. There are options, I know there are but there’s a lesson here to be remembered and that’s why I refuse to forget.

I was hoping you’d have all the answers. What a sham.

Timeline/World: New York City – Surviving Earth
Characters: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Human
Age: 30
Final Word Count: 572 words

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Before I could be out in the sun, not that I can be out for long periods of time still but I’ve felt its heat on my skin and it feels so good, I was a loner. For the most part, I still am a loner, I don’t know that this has changed much, except that now I’m a loner with someone in my life, someone I doubt I could live without and that I do have to somewhat mingle with others for the sake of this whole survival thing. I think the odds that three of us with the same skin condition would survive this whole winter blizzard thing are so slim that it has made mingling at least with them a little less difficult to manage. Not that I can get away from somewhat mingling with others but Seb makes it so much easier, that and I tend to somewhat let him do the socializing and mingling when he feels like it, otherwise I brave the ‘storm,’ as it stands.

Now, all of this to bring me back to my childhood. I was kept inside, I lived at night for the most parts and my parents raised me in the dark. I would play outside in the dark, never really meeting anyone else my age and just wondering why. I remember, when I was about eleven, I did meet this one little girl, I was out just after sunset, watching the colour still play over the horizon. Several of the parents must have spoken about me to their kids because the rare ones I crossed paths with as the sun was setting, would cross over to the other sidewalk.

This little girl though, she was looking at me with those wide, curious eyes, I was wondering what this was all about. I wasn’t used to other kids so when she asked me if I was the vampire, I sort of blinked. I knew what vampires were, I just wasn’t sure why she’d think I was the vampire but I wanted a friend so I shrugged, I told her I was—what harm could it do? She gave me this huge grin and even hugged me; she started talking at me because she certainly wasn’t talking to me. Just talking and talking nonstop, I couldn’t get a word in and I wouldn’t have known what to say, even if she’d have let me.

Then she stopped, gave me this really expectant look and just went ‘so?’ I blinked, asked her ‘so what?’ and things derailed from there. She started on this speech about how vampires were supposed to know everything and be aware of everything and just, I was confused, to say the least. She called me a sham, called me a liar, said no one would ever play with me—that was no different than my life had been to that point—and that she was going to put a curse on me. That one scared me to bits, back then, but thinking about it now, I can only smile somewhat, a little sadly, and just shake my head because, well it is sad but amusing, really.

How could I not be a gullible child when I’d never had any friends? I didn’t cry, that wasn’t worth the tears and I never saw her again anyway. The kids kept on switching sidewalks and life remained as it had been before.

What’s the point of the game then?

Timeline/World: Atheria 3rd Generation
Characters: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Halfling – Angel / Elf (snow) / Human / Vampire
Age: 42, physically about 24
Final Word Count: 524 words

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I have spent a lot of my time indoors while I was growing up. Even now, I’m not much of an outdoor fan still and I don’t think that will ever change. I could blame a lot of things, my parents, my childhood, my life as a whole, my gene, my perfectly perfect mate but there’s no blame to be laid to anyone. It’s not anyone’s fault and I don’t think there’s any blame to be had. I might be part vampire, I might be part snow elf, but just the same I’m part human and part angel and that’s just that, I’m a nice, well-mixed mix and I just like darker, quieter environments.

You’d say I’m a likely introvert and I’d tell you that you’re right. I go with Seb to get the shopping done because I just want to be with him and I know I need to be ‘out there’ every so often. I just need to recharge my battery once we get back and I’ve mingled a bit with everyone else.

A little while ago, Ophelia dropped by with a small box, a board game of sorts that I’d never heard of. She comes by now and again to see how I’m doing and I return the favour, it’s not as exhausting as socializing out there around others and it’s always nice to see what new thing she’s discovered. At times it’s a book, now and again a new recipe. It’s always something neat and new and I appreciate what she’s doing, I try to do the same but I’m just not as great about digging through things to find something she might not know, it’s a little frustrating now and again.

This little game though, it baffled me and I think she must have spent an hour or so just trying to explain the goal of it, the point. I couldn’t wrap my mind around how simple and yet complicated it looked to be. When she left, I gave it a small try, it’s a one-person sort of game and the goal is deceptively simple, just gotta jump over pegs to remove them but not all the pegs are the same colours and jumping a particular colour then requires a change in the rules that you can either just one, or two, or in a certain direction or not, it was pretty confusing, to say the least.

When Seb came home, I just gave him the whole thing with a slightly frustrated huff. Of course, later on, I told him why I was in such a huff and that was it but I think it amused him more than anything else. It’s not the first time she’s brought in little games of the sort and I usually pounce on them and learn to beat them in a heartbeat but that one was just confusing the ever-loving heck out of me and I wanted nothing to do with it if I could help it.

I’m not sure what he’s done with it at this point and I haven’t asked. I’m in no rush to try it again.

Public Affections

Timeline/World: New York City – Surviving Earth
Characters: Alexandra Westlake
Race: Human
Age: 30
Final Word Count: 532 words

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I grew up having to keep to the shadow, literally. I had, still partially have, a skin condition that made it impossible for me to be out in the sunlight. Just a passing ray and I’d be blistering in a bad way.

So meeting new people, meeting anyone, really, and having any chance at a relationship was something I’d never really given much thought. My parents kept me safe for as long as they could but the moment I could manage by myself, I was out the door. I wanted a sort of life of my own, even if it meant living in a semi-basement sort of apartment with all of the blinds having an extra curtain to keep it all dark.

Meeting Seb was… it was a blessing. I have no other words for it other than that. In our own way, we were a little broken, at least, that’s how I saw it at first but eventually, I managed to convince myself otherwise. We weren’t broken, we were just different and it felt like we were two puzzle pieces that had been missing its match for too long.

I am still in awe, today, of how things worked out for us. How we made it this far and will continue on. How, despite that the world has gone to hell, we’ve managed to grow.

Of course, with the technological help from the doc, we have a better chance at survival and I can even spend time outside, preferably with a strong bit of sunscreen and preferably in the shade but I can still spend a few comfortable minutes under the sun before I can feel my skin start to redden. I haven’t had a single sun-related blister on my skin since she started her treatment.

All of this though, just to get back to the one fact that I have no words to use to express how blessed I feel that Sebestyén has entered my life. How he’s changed everything with just a few words.

I have someone in my life, I thought it would never happen. Someone I can curl up to at night, wake up to in the mornings, someone I can hold hands with when we’re out there, someone I can kiss to my heart’s content and just… there are so many things I have now that I never thought I would have.

Of course, living out here day to day isn’t what I’d call easy but I think that hardly matters. I do whatever I can to make our everyday life comfortable and I think that’s the one thing that really does matter at this point.

I look at other couples out there and I don’t think I can really find any big differences, at least not in the simpler things. The hand holding, the ‘have a good day at sorta-work’ kisses, the mushy way they look at one another. That last one leaves me wondering though, do we look at one another that way? I guess we probably do but it hardly matters. What matters is that he’s in my life and I’m not letting go.