Writing

I’ve been published!

| rachelhamm

As a wedding planner, though, not a writer.  Although, I did write the copy for the layouts of the style shoots that are featured in this season’s issue of The Bride’s Book.

You can check out my work here: http://raleigh.thebridesbook.com/e-zine.php on pages 29-31, 47-49, 71-73.  I styled and organized the photo shoot, but worked with some really amazing event professionals to make it happen.  I’m just really proud, so even though there aren’t a lot of people reading this blog, and even though the people who do probably don’t care at all about weddings, I wanted to share it.  Enjoy!

Missing out

| rachelhamm

Days keep passing.  My life moves on every moment.  And I feel like I’m missing out.  I feel like I’m missing out on THE fundamental experiences of life.

I’ll turn 28 years old in three months.  It sounds young, but it doesn’t feel young- especially not for a woman.  Think about it- the potential for pregnancy complications and birth defects increases dramatically at age 35, which means I need to have children in the next seven years.  And even though that sounds like a fairly decent amount of time, you have to consider the time necessary to meeting, dating, and marrying the man who would be the father of my children.  Because, I’m sorry, but I’m not a person who would be strong enough to raise a child on my own.  Suddenly, seven years doesn’t feel like that much time, does it?  I think about my sister and her husband.  They started dating in high school and got married when they were 21.  He turned 30 this past November and she’ll turn 30 in four days.  They are expecting their first child in June.  Nine years of marriage, and almost 12 years together- that’s what they got before they had children.  And they still have plenty of time to have more kids if they want to.

But I’ll never have that.  It’s impossible.  I know not all relationships are the same.  Every person is different- no one has the same path in life.  I don’t know exactly how to put it, but it makes me sad – that kind of relationship was NEVER a possibility for me.  It’s unfair.

I’m turning 28 in three months and I’m not just upset that I haven’t had kids or a long term relationship.  What bothers me the most is never loving at all.  And never being loved.  In Twenty-Five, Abigail told Ben that no one had ever made her feel pretty, that no one had ever cared about her, or even liked her.  That’s me.  It’s a true for me now as it was three years ago when I wrote it.  I can’t figure out why.  It seems so incredibly unfair to me.  I can’t understand what I’ve done to deserve going through life completely alone.  Unless you’ve gone 28 (or more) years completely single- you have no idea, no idea whatsoever how it feels.  I can’t even describe it really.  Some days I’m fine.  It doesn’t even register on my radar that I’m a single person.  Other days, everything reminds me that no one loves me, and at this point, the likelihood that anyone ever will seems to be steadily decreasing.  You can’t imagine how that kind of thing affects your self-worth and overall happiness.

The absolute worst part of it is that I have no one I can really talk to about it.  The few people I have in my life who do genuinely care about me don’t understand, no matter how much they try to.  Comments like, “It’s better to be with nobody than with the wrong person,” are not helpful.  Getting advice on dealing with being single from a person who hasn’t been single since they hit puberty is not helpful.  I appreciate the thought, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

So many instances have happened recently to bring on this onslaught of self-pity.  I’ll mention the two that are most prominent in my mind.  I was at a meeting a couple of days ago with a couple and their officiant, planning their wedding ceremony.  The officiant asked them to share something personal about themselves to be included in the address and they mentioned their belief that one of the great things about marriage is having someone who is always your fan: someone who cheers you on and supports you no matter what.  The officiant likened it to being each other’s # 1 fan.  I teared up a little during the meeting, it was so sweet.  Then later, thinking back on it, I teared up again, realizing that I had no one who could claim to be my biggest fan, and no one I could claim to be their biggest fan.

The second instance happened during the St. Patrick’s Day Bar Crawl I went on with my (other) sister and her husband.  At some point in the evening, my brother-in-law told a story about how he once almost punched a guy my sister hugged while they were out at a bar.  Apparently, she used to date the guy, and my bro-in-law was drunk and jealous.  I know girls aren’t supposed to want their men to be jealous, but a little bit of envy shows passion.  And once again, no one has ever felt that kind of passion for me (nor have I felt it for anyone else).

This post probably makes me sound crazy.  At least, if you are a guy, you are jumping to that conclusion.  I don’t know- maybe I am a little insane, but I don’t think I am in a bad way, and truth be told, I think guys like to use the “crazy woman” explanation any time a woman behaves in ways they can’t (or won’t try to) understand.

I don’t expect to accomplish anything by writing this, except maybe a little relief.  I know it’s not the first time I’ve indulged my sadness and bemoaned singledom via the blog, so for those of you who have read through it more than once, thank you and I’m sorry.

Hello, Reality

| rachelhamm

If my life were a movie, here’s how last weekend would have gone:

I would have dreaded going to the 3-day conference about the unique technology we use at the office where I work in a job I’m way over-qualified for.  Because the conference really had nothing to offer me- I’d be leaving this job I’m way over-qualified for soon.  But I’d put a smile on my face and cheer in my voice and go along with the seemingly pointless classes and group activities.  At the end of the first day, I’d carefully curl my hair, apply fresh makeup, and slip into my brand new dress to attend the opening night welcome reception along with my co-workers.  While saving a table in the over-crowded hotel restaurant, I’d spot two very cute young men at the next table over, and being bold, would walk over and introduce myself.  We’d laugh, flirt a little, then I’d rejoin my party and the cute boys would have spent the rest of the evening thinking what a cool chick they’d just met.

The next day, I’d go to more classes, say fabulously witty things to all the conference presenters, and get an email from one of the graduate schools I’d applied to saying they’d made a decision regarding my application.  I’d bite the nails for the rest of the day, just waiting until we had a long enough break for me to check the school’s graduate website to see if I’d been accepted.  Finally, finally! the classes would be over for the day- I’d rush up to my room, log into the site and Yes! I got in!  They wanted me!  Armed with new confidence and excitement for the future- I’d get ready for the huge sports-themed party the conference was throwing.  Hair curled again, makeup re-applied again, and skinny jeans plus totally awesome black and pink Bowling shirt.  I’d enter the party with my co-workers, head held high, wondering when it would be appropriate to tell my boss that I’d be leaving for school in August.  The first person I see is one of the cute boys from the night before.  He’s dressed as an old-timey football player, complete with leather helmet, and he looks adorable.  He slyly makes his way over, looks at me with that “Hey, I recognize you,” look, and slowly says, “Rachel?”  I grin, and say back, “Joshua?”

Somehow, Joshua and I end up talking away from my group.  He offers to get me a drink.  We spend most of the party talking and dancing and as things are winding down, he walks me to my room and kisses me goodnight.  I can’t believe this is happening- the best news of my life on the same day as the best kiss of my life.

The next day, we spend as much time talking together as conference demands will allow.  He’s working, I’m attending.  I tell him about getting into school, and he’s impressed by my intelligence.  When the conference ends later that day, he insists on getting my number and email address- the long distance doesn’t matter, he wants to keep getting to know me.  A few days later, he’d show up unexpectedly in North Carolina at my office with a bouquet of flowers and the insistence that he knew we had a once-in-a-lifetime connection.

That's me on the far left, in the black dress. Too bad you can't really see my shoes, because they are AMAZING.

My life is not a movie.

What actually happened:

I was kinda looking forward to the conference.  I’d never been to Dallas (where it was being held), and hey, anything is better than answering the phone all day long.  And for the record- I didn’t have to answer the phone a single time while I was at the conference. Also for the record- we didn’t leave the hotel once while we were in Dallas.  So I might as well have been in North Carolina.

At the end of the first day, I did indeed curl my hair, re-apply my makeup, and put on a brand new dress I actually bought for a rehearsal dinner for my friend’s wedding, but wanted to test out somewhere not as important to make sure I actually liked the way it looked and was comfortable enough to wear all night.  When we got to the reception, I did hold a table for our group, and I did introduce myself to the two cute guys at the table behind ours.  We talked for a few minutes, the other guy, Jason, was the one I was initially attracted to, but the next night, he seemed kinda douche-baggy.  But anyways.  After a few minutes of (probably badly-executed on my part) flirting, I returned to my group and the boys returned to theirs.  I wondered for the rest of the evening if I’d get to talk to them again, they joined a table of “Woohoo” drunk girls who insisted on shouting and singing random songs for the remainder of the reception.  Joshua did shake my hand again and say it was nice meeting me as we (my group and I) were leaving.

The next day, as I sat waiting for the first class of the day to start, I checked my email and saw a new message from one of the schools I applied to: a decision had been made about my application and could be found on their website.  I couldn’t check the website on my phone because the password I needed was upstairs in my hotel room.  So, I had to sit through 6 or 7 hours of classes just waiting, waiting, waiting.  When I was finally dismissed, I went straight to my room, located the password in my red notebook, logged on and… Found rejection.  A form letter.  I didn’t get in.  I figured I should check the other schools’ websites while I was at it, even though they hadn’t sent me any kind of notification.  Another rejection from the second school.  I didn’t get in.  And the third school hadn’t posted anything.  I started crying while my roommate showered.  I laid down on my bed and cried and cried.  When I heard the water shut off, I sat up, wiped my face, and tried to compose myself.  I started ironing my awesome bowling shirt, then offered to iron hers.  I curled my hair.  She left to help one of our co-workers with makeup.  I cried some more.  Then re-applied my makeup and changed into my outfit.  By the time I went downstairs to meet the rest of my group, I managed to pull myself together and my eyes weren’t nearly as bloodshot as they could have been.

Joshua did approach me when we entered the party.  He was an adorable old-time football player with adorable leather helmet.  But he never offered to get me a drink, and while we did talk away from my group for a few minutes and we did dance for a few minutes, he spent just as much time with me as he did with everyone else there.  He certainly didn’t walk me to my hotel room and he most definitely didn’t kiss me goodnight.

The next morning, he was moderating the very first class I walked into.  I did not know he’d be there- I didn’t choose that class because I thought he’d be there.  He greeted me by name again, but then he had to work and I had to listen.  We kept running into each other throughout the day and it felt flirty and nice and I thought, maybe- maybe he likes me.  I also thought, maybe he’s just really good at networking.  At the end of the conference, we shook hands, said it was nice to meet each other, and “hey, maybe I’ll see you at next year’s conference.”  We didn’t exchange any contact information.

When I arrived back in North Carolina, my bag did not.  It decided to stay in Dallas.

I tried to find Joshua on facebook, but couldn’t.

I still haven’t heard back from school # 3, but I’m not keeping my hopes up.

I like the movie version a lot better.

The most awesome Bowling Shirt, ever.

Resolutions

| rachelhamm

I’m not good at keeping resolutions of any kind,  New Year’s or otherwise.  So that’s why I’ve stopped making them in the past.  I just don’t have the willpower or the motivation to follow through.  If no one else is depending on me doing something, chances are, I’m not going to stick with it.  I am not sure exactly why it is.  Perhaps I spend so much of my time working- where there is always someone anticipating or needing something from me, that when it comes to myself, it’s almost a break to not expect anything.

I’ve never gone on a true diet, because the times I’ve tried to “eat healthy” have lasted all of 3 days before I succumbed to my intense craving for Ben & Jerry’s.  I don’t exercise, because I’m just too tired at the end of the day (or the beginning of the day).  I realize that this is very bad.  Very bad indeed.  I want to be someone capable of improving myself, but let’s face it, that’s not who I am.

To get to my true point though, I sort of made a resolution this year to write more.  To be precise, I made a resolution to do something writing-related every day, even if it’s only for 5 minutes.  I’m not setting any kind of goals or holding myself to any kind of standard, but I felt like it was a resolution that needed to be made.  If I want to ever truly be a real writer, I need to be in the habit of writing on a daily basis.  When I wrote Twenty-Five, I couldn’t put my freaking pen down, but since then, it’s been a constant struggle to find the time and the energy to be creative.  I think I have a habit of sabotaging myself and I’m trying to break that with a new habit.

So far, I’ve been doing really well.  I haven’t spent a lot of time each day writing, but I’ve opened my computer and written something on The Death Effect every day since January 1st.  I have a brand new chapter that’s SOOO close to being finished and I find myself thinking about the characters and the scene I’m working on when I have down time (basically, when I’m driving to and from work and when I’m trying to fall asleep).  I think I may actually finish a first draft at some point.  At the rate I’m going, it might not happen in 2012, but it is going to happen.  You can check The Death Effect’s page to check my progress throughout the year.  As I’m writing this, I am up to 46, 924 words, 38 chapters written, and 4 chapters started (they are short chapters, just in case you aren’t familiar with how long 46K words is).  I’m estimating that the completed first draft will be between 65K and 80K words, with 55ish chapters.

I’m looking forward to this.  I hope I find it in myself to go through with it.  If you follow the blog and you notice I haven’t updated in a while, feel free to give me a good kick in the pants.  I’ll probably need it at some point.

Saying “Yes” to New Year’s Eve

| rachelhamm

 

Oh heck yeah, New Year’s Eve was awesome.

I went out with some friends to see an amazing local band (they are so outstanding it almost pains me to call them a “local” band, but they are from Raleigh, so technically that is the correct term) and they not only completely rocked, but my friends and I had a great time.  Plus, I got hit on, which always makes things better!

I don’t really have any fun anecdotes or crazy stories to share, I just wanted to mention that I went out.  If you’ve been following the blog over the past couple of years, you’ll know I’m trying really hard to live more and a big part of that is making sure that I have an active social life.  It is so easy for me to sit at home alone, watching tv in my pjs, feeling sorry for myself (for what- well, everything and nothing).  I don’t want to be that person all the time.  I want to have those experiences that you’re supposed to have when you are young, I want to create memories.  The past two New Year’s Eves, I’ve spent alone at home.  I didn’t even pay attention to the clock.  I was embarrassed to go out because I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight.  And really, how stupid is that?  I kissed my friends on their cheeks at midnight this year.  And later I gave a guy my number.  Much more productive than staying in.

 

 

The Design- so AMAZING. Check out their website: http://www.thedesignmusic.com

 

Being an Adult?

| rachelhamm

Today I took down my Christmas tree.  It was my first real Christmas tree that was all mine- I picked out the ornaments and the lights, I decorated it, and every night I plugged in the lights and sat in it’s glow (usually while watching television and/or answering emails).  A friend actually bought the tree for me because I’d mentioned that I wanted a mini-tree to put up in the condo since I would be spending most of the month of December here.  She had my name for Secret Santa at work and showed up to our Christmas party on December 11th toting a 2  1/2′ tall live tree (that’s an estimate- I didn’t actually measure it).

Full disclosure- she did text me a day or two before the party to let me know she bought the tree so I didn’t end up buying one for myself and so I’d have time to get some ornaments for it.

I’m sorry for the bad picture, but it’s the only one I have.  I actually added some larger ornaments to the tree a couple days after this was taken, but I forgot to take another picture.

I decided I’d take the tree down today because it was getting very dry and I didn’t see the point in watering it again when I knew I’d have to take it down by the 30th anyways (the owners of the condo come home from their Christmas vacation on December 31st), plus the cleaning man is coming tomorrow and so I have to straighten things up as much as possible (I know, it’s completely ironic that I have to clean before the cleaning man comes, but so it goes- also, full disclosure, the owners of the condo pay the cleaning man, not me; I could never afford a cleaning man.  Or this condo).

As I was removing the brightly colored shatter-resistant (a very important feature when you live with 4 cats who like to swat at anything and everything) baubles from the tree, I got to thinking about how it really was my very first adult Christmas tree.  This is the third year I’ve pet-sat over the holidays and during the previous two years I didn’t even consider getting a tree.  I knew I’d be spending Christmas Eve at my grandmother’s and Christmas day at my parents, ant they both have trees, so why would I need one?  Especially when I’d be the only one looking at it and there’d be no gifts under it.

I think I’ve spent a good portion of my adult(?) life waiting.  Waiting for the right career.  Waiting for the husband and family that is surely inevitable.  Was I waiting to put up a Christmas tree until I had someone to enjoy it with?  Probably.  And that’s just stupid.  No one gets anywhere by standing still and waiting.

I think I was probably also waiting to go back to school until I had someone to support me through it.  Not financially.  I can take care of myself in that respect (well, I try and as I’m still eating and filling my car with gas and don’t have creditors hunting me down in the street, I feel like I’m succeeding).  No, I mean to support me as in give me the encouragement I need when I’m having a shitty day and want to say “screw it, I’ll never be a writer.”  Support me as in, drive me to campus/work when my car is broken down and needs to be in the shop for a couple of days.   Support me as in, just saying “Hey, you’re awesome and I love you.”  Well.  That support isn’t coming from outside sources, so I guess I’ll have to do that, too.  And I can do that.  Because I am awesome.

All that to say, hey!  I finished my grad school applications!  Yay!  Lots of exclamation points, yay!!!!!!!!  I have this dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’m not going to get in, but at the same time, I feel this wonderful sense of empowerment that I actually completed the applications and sent them in.  I’ll never get in without applying, after all.  And if I don’t get in, oh well.  I try again next year.  Or I take it as a sign and get serious about trying to find an agent for Twenty-Five (I know I say that a lot, but hey 2012 is almost here and I see it as an amazing new start.  Who knows what can happen?).

My friend, Jaclyn, wants to write a book, so we’ve made a pact that we are going to meet once a month for a couple of hours and just write.  We won’t talk or distract each other- we’ll be holding each other accountable and making sure that we are writing something.  I’ve really missed the community of writers I had back in my TNBW days, and maybe this will bring back some of the motivation I had then.  I’m really looking forward to it.  And Jaclyn- now that I’ve put this out into the internet/blogging universe, you know we actually have to do it.

Wow.  So this is the most I’ve written on this blog in a while and I hope it’s been worth your while to read, if I even have any readers left.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!  This 27 1/2 year old envisions a fabulous 2012 and a lot more, “Hey, I’m an Adult!” moments ahead.  I’ll keep you posted…

I Need Your Help!

| rachelhamm

It’s official: I’m applying to graduate school!

Yay!

I’ve wanted to go to grad school for a long time, pretty much ever since I graduated college, but it’s never seemed to be the right time (i.e. I never had the $).  I still don’t know if it’s the right time, but I have the money for the GRE and for the application fees, so I’m going for it!  There’s no guarantee that I’ll get in anywhere, the programs are very selective, but I’m giving it all I’ve got.

I’m hoping to get into a Creative Writing program so I can earn an MFA.

All that to say: I need your help.  The most important part of the application is the writing sample.  30 pages or less of original work.  I’ve selected the pieces I’d like to include, but I’d like some feedback/critiquing before I send them in.

Here’s what I’m planning on:

The Painting

The Maidening Ceremony

My Pen

Love is on the List, Chapter Ten: Confession

Love is on the List, Chapter Sixteen: Another Confession

Please let me know your thoughts.  Tell me everything: room for improvement, grammatical or spelling errors, or if you’ve read other pieces you think would be better for me to submit.  I want to send in my absolute best work.

Thank you!

The Maidening Ceremony

| rachelhamm

Arilya burst through the surface of the water and flung her hair over her shoulder.  Her pink skin shone as it absorbed sunlight for the first time, and she propelled herself into the air, performing a perfect back flip and dive.  Her fins slipped back into the water effortlessly and without a splash.  She felt completely alive.

The dream of emerging from the ocean’s icy depths and feeling warmth caress her skin recurred every night.  Arilya had been waiting for this rite of passage since she was three years old.  Since her mother told her about her own first out-of-water experience, and every day since had just been one wave closer to her seventeenth birthday.

It is amazing above the water.  Sounds are clearer and colors are vibrant.  But I must warn you, Arilya, you may never touch land.  Death awaits the merperson who leaves the water and feels the earth.

When Arilya woke up on this fateful morning, she could barely stop her fins from swimming her straight to the surface, but she knew she must wait for the ceremony that would announce to all she was no longer a merphin, but instead, a full grown mermaid.  No one had told her the ceremony would be a wedding.  That part of the fairy tale told to merchildren had been conveniently left out.

You’ll just have to wait and see, Arilya.  The traditions of the Ceremony cannot be known until you are old enough for your own.

“Arilya, are you ready to go?” Dalphen cried out.  Her father was insistent she be on time for the Maidening Ceremony, but Arilya never liked to follow the rules. While he swam impatiently back and forth outside her cove, she and Finley stole away and made love on a bed of kelp.

“Oh Finley, will life still be this perfect tomorrow when I’m a mermaid?”

“Your life will always be perfect, because you are perfect, Arilya.”  He twitched his long yellow fin towards her, and her pink cheeks blushed a brilliant shade of violet.

“Will the world still be this colorful tomorrow when I’m a mermaid?”

“The world around you will always be colorful, Arilya, because you are like a rainbow among the storm clouds.”

“What is a rainbow, Finley?”

“Ah, you will see, Arilya, when you go to the surface.”

“Will I see storm clouds, too?”

“No, they will depart from the sky as soon as you appear, your loveliness will scare them away.  They only like dark and dreary things.  And you, Arilya, can never be dark and dreary.”

“Will you still love me tomorrow when I am a mermaid, Finley?”

“I will still love you tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day for eternity.”  He took her hands and wrapped them around his neck, smothering her lips with his mouth and caressing her blue tailfin with his own yellow one.  Finley knew if Dalphen knew about his love for the merman’s daughter, the safest place for him to swim would be in a monsoon, but he didn’t care.  He’d face hurricanes and sharks and piranhas before he gave up Arilya.

“I suppose I HAVE to go to the ceremony, now.”  Arilya sighed as she disentangled her fin from his.

“If you ever want to see the surface you do.”

“I definitely want to see the surface.”

“Well, then you must go.  But come find me here, after you taste the air.”

“What is air, Finley?”

“Ah, you will know it when you taste it.”

“But how will I know what to put in my mouth to taste if I don’t know what it is?”

“Ah, you won’t have to put it in your mouth, it will enter without your permission.”

“I don’t know if I like that.  The only thing I want entering my mouth without my permission is you!”  Giggling, she tapped her fin on his chest as she abruptly turned and swam away.  He allowed a reasonable distance between them before swimming after her and making his way to the ceremony.

The curse inflicted on him at his own Maning Ceremony last year prevented him from warning her.  But it wouldn’t prevent him from trying to stop the wedding.  And if he failed, it wouldn’t prevent him from trying to swim away with her tonight after she returned from the surface and met him on their bed of kelp.  He knew the penalty, knew he wouldn’t succeed in either endeavor, but again, he didn’t care, he would try anything for her.

As Arilya arrived at the preparation cove, her mother Chaslie, and sisters rushed out to greet her.  Chaslie enveloped her youngest daughter in a cold embrace, and when Arilya pulled away she found a necklace of shimmering black pearls encircling her throat.

“A tradition of the Maidening Ceremony.  The pearls will keep you young and beautiful for as long as you wear them,” Chaslie crooned.

“Is that why you forever have looked seventeen, mother?”  Arilya asked, touching the beads around her neck.  As her fingers brushed across their smooth surface, an electric jolt pulsed through her hands and down her arms, moving into chest and fin.

“Yes, I have worn my pearls ever since my own Maidening Ceremony, many, many years ago.  Should I ever remove them, I would shrivel up and die!”  Chaslie and her daughters laughed at the joke, knowing she would NEVER remove her strand.  But her mother grew serious soon, and continued, “The jolt you felt when you touched the necklace was the power of the pearls being transferred to you.”  Chaslie ended her explanation, unable to inform her daughter of the full extent of the pearls’ power.  Arilya could not learn of the curse of the merpeople until after her Maidening Ceremony.

Arilya again touched the precious jewelry, but her admiration was cut short as her gaggle of sisters flew at her and stripped off the blue seashells covering her breasts.  She protested, but her mother placed a firm hand on her shoulder, ending her cries.

“All merphin wear white seashells on the day of their Maidening Ceremony.  ‘Tis another tradition.”  Producing a pair swathed in seaweed, Chaslie handed them to her daughter, who eagerly unwrapped and held them up.  The whiteness of the shells stood in sharp contrast to her pink skin and blue fin and her hands trembled as she traced her fingers along the outer edges.

“I do not believe I have ever seen anything so white before.  I did not know color could shine like this,” she said with reverence.  “I wish I became a mermaid everyday so I could always wear shells as beautiful as these.”  With all around her watching, she pressed the shells firmly around her breasts and floated back to admire the effect in a mirror.  No sooner had she confirmed her belief that these shells would make her the most gorgeous mermaid who ever treaded these waters, than the shells began to melt into her skin.

“What is happening?  Owww!  Owwwww!  What is going on?  Someone take them off!  Take them off!  They are burning me!”  Her fingers scratched and clawed at the shells while the harem looked on horrified, but to no avail.  The shells would not release her.

Chaslie grabbed her daughter’s fin and bellowed, “Arilya!  You are a filthy whore!  The purity shells have exposed your misdeed.  With whom did you have sex?”

“Whaaat?” she sobbed back, still desperately trying to peel the shells off.

“No matter,” Chaslie regained her composure.  “The burning will only last a few moments longer, and then it will not be visible to your husband until after he removes the shells.  He can punish you as he deems fit.”

“My husband?  What do you mean?”  Fear replaced the pain around Arilya’s heart and her hands fell away from the evil shells.  “Finley and I wish to get married, but we have not told anyone yet.”

“Finley?  Oh, so he is your wicked merman.  It is a good thing the tradition prevents him from warning you.”

“Warning me?  Mother what is going on?”  Tears flowed out of Arilya’s eyes and mingled with the ocean around them.  Chaslie did not answer, but grabbed her daughter’s arm and jerked her away from the preparation cove.  They swam to the entrance of the cavern where all Maidening and Maning ceremonies took place.  Arilya had never been permitted inside before.  Merchildren weren’t allowed to come to the ceremonies.

Chaslie dropped her arm as Dalphen approached them.  He frowned at Arilya and turned to Chaslie. “She is late.  Did all go well with the preparations?”  He glanced from the pearls around his daughter’s throat to the pure white shells covering her chest.  He seemed satisfied, for he did not require an answer of his wife.

“Come.  The ceremony needs to begin.”  This time he gripped his daughter’s arm and pushed her in front of him into the cavern.  Arilya gasped in terror as she saw her friends and family chained by a thick gold coil wrapped around each individual’s wrists and connecting each member of the merpeople community together.  No one looked up as she entered, save Finley.  Catching his eyes as she was pushed past him, she saw anger mingled with pity and sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

Suddenly, she was thrust forward into the center of a smaller circle of merpeople she didn’t recognize.  They did not belong to her community.  Opposite her, a merphan unfamiliar to her was thrust into the circle as well.  His eyes widened as they fell on hers and she knew he shared her fear.  The circle closed in around them and a bright red coil ensnared the wrists of each member.  Arilya cried out in pain as a blazing white coil appeared in the water and began wrapping tightly around her fin and wrists.

“NO!” Finley shouted from the back of the cavern. He struggled against his bindings, flapping and twitching like a fish caught in a net.  “No!  Leave her alone!”  The community ignored his distress.

“Finley, what is happening?  Finley, please stop this, please get me out of here!” Arilya shouted out.  The red circle around her grew tighter and she realized the merphan’s fin and arms were bound in the same white trap.  Dalphen and Chaslie suddenly swam above her head, along with another couple she didn’t know.  Finley screamed, attempting to drown out the beginning of the end.

Dalphen addressed the crowd, “Today, my daughter Arilya becomes a mermaid.”

The unknown merman spoke next, “Today my son Japhet becomes a merman.”

Chaslie and the unknown mermaid spoke together, “The merphin becomes a mermaid, the merphan becomes a merman, only when wed together.  This is the joy of the merpeople.  Only when two becomes one can the other world be known, only when the mermaid and the merman are joined together can their heads break the surface of the water.”

The inner circle began to chant, “Marriage is right.  Love is wrong.  Marriage between two young souls brings peace to the merpeople.  Love between two young souls brings death to the merpeople.  Marriage is right.  Love is wrong.”

Arilya choked on the vomit rising in her throat and struggled fruitlessly against the hot coil burning her pink skin.  “Why are you doing this to me?  I do not wish to marry this stranger!  I am in love with Finley.”  The words tumbled from her mouth, silenced the chant, and carried to Finley.  A sword appeared in front of him and he braced himself against the golden coil restraining his arms, staring death in the face.

Arilya twisted and turned, desperate to see her beloved Finley, but the circle continued to grow tighter around her.  His piercing cry as the sword plunged into his heart was the last sound she heard before the white snake around her cut into her wrist and dragged her into the arms of Japhet.  The coil grew longer and thicker and fused their bodies together.

His fin slipped around hers and she screamed, “NOOO!  I don’t want this, please.”  But there was no escaping the white prison.  The community watched as Japhet plunged his fin into hers.  She sobbed uncontrollably as the rape continued and pleaded with her parents to end the torture.  They merely smirked at her.

When he was finished, Japhet floated backwards, the white coil around his fin and wrists dissolving.  “I’m sorry, Arilya, I did not want to do that to you, the coil made me.”  The guilt smeared across his face told her he was not lying, but she could not look at him for long.  The cords around her disappeared, too, and she tore through the circle back to Finley.  The golden chains holding the community together had fallen away, and Finley lay face up on the cold floor of the cavern, a gaping wound in his chest the only indication a sword took his life.

“Tis the curse of the merpeople, Arilya.  We were given a choice between a life underwater and a life with love.” Chaslie floated above Finley’s lifeless body, “We chose life underwater.  We are given the opportunity to go above the surface once we have sealed the commitment to our choice with an unloving marriage.  Finley himself was married in his Maning ceremony last year.  His wife’s name is Gorschen. He would have left you in a few years anyways.  When a merperson turns 21, they must go and live with their spouse.  He wouldn’t have a choice.”

Arilya did not respond.  She gathered Finley’s head in her hands and cradled it to her scorched bosom.

“The pearls you wear seek out love and destroy it.  Mermen do not have such a precaution bound to them, thus your life was spared.  Finley knew to love you meant death for him.  He was foolish.”  Arilya still did not respond in voice to her mother’s words.  Rather she ripped the pearls from her neck and the broken strand flung the beads in all directions.

“It makes no difference whether you wear the necklace now or not, save that you will not have eternal youth, for the power of the beads already lives in you.  From the first touch, they destroyed your ability to love.”

“No, I still love Finley.  They destroyed my ability to live.”  Arilya shot upwards through the water, sending currents into the cavern.  She kicked her fin ferociously, striving to get to the surface before her mother or father attempted to stop her.

After swimming a few leagues she glanced behind her, only to discover she wasn’t being followed.  They didn’t care if she left.  They didn’t love her.  She pushed on, her heart both broken and numb to the pain caused by this realization.

The water around her became clearer, bluer.  Her fin appeared darker than ever before and she thought she could see a golden orb ahead.  She changed direction slightly and sped along just below the surface.  Every few seconds she would glance upwards, looking for an indication her destination was approaching.  Finally, she saw it.  Finley had described it to her.

Boldly, she thrust her head out of the water and used her arms to propel herself closer.   The waves offered their assistance, and soon she was only a breaststroke away.  Her fingers closed around the grainy sand and she heard Finley’s voice, “I love you, Arilya,” before darkness closed around her.

My Pen

| rachelhamm

I picked up a pen one day
And set it to paper
And words flew out
My secret fears and desires
Seeped onto the page
Suddenly I’m looking at myself
With my own eyes
I’m a different person than I thought
No better
No worse
Just different
So I pick up another pen
And set it to paper
To see what else I can teach myself
Where do I want to go?
What do I want to see?
Who do I want to love?
It all reveals itself on the page
Finally I’m living a life worth living
Even if it is
In the pages of my notebook
So I don’t put the pen down
Even when I should
Because when its in my hand
When I set it to paper
I can make the pain go away
Or I can make the pain worse
I can FEEL
So I continue to write
Continue to discover myself
My hidden sexuality
My thirst for adventure
My longing for lust and love and friendship
Because the second I drop the pen
It all goes away
And I know nothing about myself
Or my secret fears and desires
I have nothing to teach myself
No life worth living
No longing or thirst to explore
So I cling to my pen
I cling to the paper
Praying that they are an anchor and a sail
Both at once
My tools for staying grounded
My means of floating away