Ysbryd Iawn o Ryfeddod

Part IV
     
some dreams are beyond our power. like the inexplicable desire in a little girl to spin round and round until she falls to her face and feels sick.
     Alaric could only stand there and watch as Lovey walked across the street in a beautiful pink and black dress. as her lips formed a smile an formerly unlit car flipped on its lights and gunned its engine. it hit before she had even turned to face it. she spun over the hood across the roof and plummetted onto the asphalt with a crack of bone that made his whole body ache. creamy blood made rivers on the black ground.
     he woke up in his bed, paralyzed. he hadn't been able to stop it. he sat up and held his face in his hands to keep it from being pulled apart as it tried to expel the anguish that perforated him. by a singular chance one eye saw through his fingers to the clock on a small table at the foot of his bed. 3am June 2nd it said. his body froze again. it was the early morning of June 2nd. the party was still to come. she was still alive. and fully alive she would remain.
     as Alaric climbed out of bed for some nefarious late night activities, Lovey was awakened by the sound of her father screaming. she put in her headphones. rain and metal made her happy. was that mad? her fingers caressed a leather blank book that she had fallen asleep considering. she had had it for seven months and yet the pages were still unmarked.  she let her fingers go back and forth along the cover running over the edges of pages lightly. no paper cuts to interupt her reveries. she didn’t know how long she stayed like that. knees up to her chin. arms crossed against her chest. lips a hard line. only her fingers daring to move. it could have been minuetes, but it wasn’t. three hours. finally she heard the door slam. safety. if all the world was made of men and women like those who gave her birth perhaps it would be better to be alone.
     she opened the black blank book. pulled out the black ribbon that had never before been touched. she paused her pen above the page. her favorite pen that left soft unrevocable lines across the cream page. she wrote carefully in scripted letters in middle left of the first page:
     “Dedicated to the Great Spirit of Wonder”
     She had heard that in a song once. by Secret & Whisper called Warrior.
            “Dark Spirit. Dark Spirit. will fear me cause I’m a warrior. a warrior. a warrior ventures on his own. a warrior.”
     THE DARK SPIRIT WILL FEAR ME CAUSE I’M A WARRIOR. She would be a warrior to be feared. She closed the book and brought her fist down like a hammer on the leather cover. this book would be worth reading someday. it was time for a revolution.