The Burning Pen

A Monologue: She Remembers Arriving
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

Original Work ~ One Shot

A Monologue: She Remembers Arriving


Unknown to the common everyday man and woman there is a world that mirrors our world in that the beings look and sound like us, they have their wars and peaces, their loves and hates, their saviors and their despots. Unlike us here on what we call the "normal" side of the world they have something else.

Magic.

What these people are called we can't say for sure. But for purposes of identification we will call them witches and wizards. We think them miraculous, that having powers beyond our own give them some sort of leg up, but even with these powers they are subject to human frailties and lapses in character. They don't come here often, unless they sense one of us is actually one of them, and they appear to deliver us to our proper home. It seems the universe does on occasion, make mistakes and we are born outside our proper place. And the gap that we leave in this world closes…the memory of us fades. 

Our mothers no longer remember the absent baby, our brothers and sisters don't acknowledge the missing sibling. The world folds over on our presence and makes us disappear without a seam or even a ripple. As if we had never been.

Suddenly we are in a new place, a wand pressed into our hands a history pressed into our minds, and we are given the choice of darkness or light, and a few, just a few of us walk in the gray areas between, with just enough selfishness to keep us from that side of good, and this side of evil, often becoming a target of both as the result.

It is the Gray ones who come to our world and take us from it. They are unreasonable, and care nothing for the friends, family or life situations that will be lost.

"You do not belong here," is their mantra.

Then you are taken, a new world wrapped around you like a cocoon. At first you find it hard to breathe. Then you fight for what you've lost. Then you give in. Then you choose.

And after all that, you go to war.

Desmond was the Gray One who came for me. My name is Kasia. My father was a black man, my mother was white. I look like I'm Italian. Thick, dark wavy hair, tanned skin, brown eyes, full lips. I have to admit I have a bumping body. My mother says I got it from my father's side.

In the real world, I was a single mother of twenty-six with an eight-year old daughter, Aleia. I never attended college because I had her so early and my mother, a party animal, wouldn't help me. She was "too young to be a grandma." Now she doesn't know I ever existed. She's probably happier.

My daughter Aleia. My "little accident". Trataar, I miss her.

Aleia's daddy, a guy I met at party with blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes, was never seen again. I think he was just visiting the area. He was cute, sexy and had a body that sent me into immediate meltdown. We found an empty bedroom as soon as we could. I don't know why I was drawn to him the way I was, but the sex was amazing. And he left me Aleia. His name was simply "Bob."

I suppose when I was taken, Aleia simply returned to a state of non-birth, a potential child floating in the ethers, waiting for another suitable mother, another suitable situation to be born into. At least that is what Desmond said happened to her when I was reasonable enough to talk to, and that she was not sad or in pain, because she had no remembrance of life, or of me. She was still to Be.

Desmond took me from work. I was a cashier at Mermon's Supermarket on Delmar Street. When he entered the store, my jaw dropped. He was dressed like a priest, pale-skinned dark-haired and dark eyed. He was the whitest man I had ever seen, and looked as if he hadn't smiled for years. He appeared to be in his early thirties. A very well kept early thirties. He had a sword tied to his side.

What struck me was as he moved through the customers and their carts, no one acknowledged him. How they could ignore such a man was beyond me. He strode through the milling crowd, never hesitating, yet never colliding with anyone. He walked right up to me, standing in front of the register next to the bag boy, who didn't stop bagging.

"Kasia Adams?" he said, looking at me with his dark eyes.

"How do you know my name?" I asked the strangely dressed man.

Rick, the bagboy answered me.

"What are you talking about, Kasia? I've worked with you for three months now. Of course I know your name," the red haired, freckled-face youth answered me.

Desmond looked at me, his eyes taking on a dark light.

"I am Desmond…a wizard…a Gray One. You do not belong here," he said, pulling out a little wooden dowel about a foot long. He pointed it at me.

"Come to the other side," he said.

Then my stomach dropped to my feet and I was pulled through wind and colors, Desmond floating before me, his dark hair and robes streaming backwards as we flew. I didn't get a chance to say no. I didn't get a chance to say anything.

We stopped, standing on a large white marble stone on top of a high mountain. Two suns blazed in the sky. I could smell nature and looked down on a lush green land, and to the far right I could see a rocky, almost lifeless area bordering it.

"Where am I?" I asked the wizard.

He looked at me soberly.

"Home," he replied, stepping down from the white stone and walking away.

I had no choice but to follow him. 

It took hours to walk down the mountain. I tried to ask the wizard questions but all he said was I would know what I needed to know in good time.

At the foot of the mountain stood a pure white citadel, circular and seamless as if cut from one great white stone. It was at least four stories high, with several rows of small, slatted windows encircling it. The building looked like a big white cake. Around the citadel stood a number of black-robed witches and wizards, wands in their hands and swords at their sides. They appeared to be guards and were of many races. They watched us attentively as we approached.

An Asian man walked up to us. His hair was black, close-cropped and spiky. He looked at me with small, dark, quick eyes. Although he was short, he was powerfully built under those black robes. I could tell by his neck, which was corded.

"Another?" he asked Desmond.

The pale wizard nodded.

"Yes. She has been connected for eight years," the wizard replied.

The Asian wizard looked very interested and a bit incredulous.

"Eight years? Amazing she survived that long," he commented.

"I think she has the shield, Khan" Desmond said, looking me over. "That's the only explanation for her survival I can figure."

Khan's eyebrows rose.

"Get her inside, Desmond. Quickly," he hissed. "If she has the shield, it will only be a matter of time before her presence is divined."

"Shield? What shield? What are you talking about? Where am I? What the fuck is going on here?" I demanded, digging in. I wasn't taking a step further until I got some answers.

Both wizards looked at me.

"Spunky," Khan said, smirking at me.

Desmond frowned.

"Yes. I hate spunky," he replied, pointing his wand at me. Suddenly I couldn't move and was lifted a foot off the ground.

"Put me down!" I screamed at the wizard.

Khan looked at me consideringly.

"You forgot to bind her mouth," he commented to Desmond, who turned and looked at me. I was cursing by then.

"Right," he said, flicking his wand at me again. My mouth snapped shut.

Khan nodded with approval.

"Much better," he said, walking ahead of Desmond as I floated behind both of them as if on a lead. "Though I dread giving her a wand."

"It will be days before she gets one. When she is in a better state of mind," Desmond replied, following Khan between two white pillars. The other wizards and witches looked at me curiously as I drifted past. If I could have moved my mouth I would have stuck my tongue out at them.

A wand? I couldn't wait. If I really could use one of those things, somebody was going to give me all the answers and quickly. Then I was going back home.

I figured I'd just bide my time.

But I was wrong. It soon became apparent I was never going back.

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A/N: I was having writer's block this morning and typed this first person monologue out. I decided to post it. It's not something I am pursing now, but thought I'd share it. Please leave your thoughts.


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