Rowen

Prologue: Adoration

                There are few things in life I can remember anymore. I can hardly remember the games I played in school so long ago. I can, however, remember every inch of her face. I know the exact shade of green her eyes are. They are like a field in summer, long and tall blades of grass bending in the breeze with a few flecks of gold where the sun burned them. Her lips a natural plumpness that I wish I could taste, and I assume they would taste similar to the deep cherry color they are. Her hair is red, like a blazing fire with strands of dark embers. It looks like silk and smells like the crisp ocean air. Her pale face is dotted with the most adorable freckles. Angel kisses, I believe, my mother once called them so long ago.

               She is near perfection in many ways, simple but many. It began in the way she cried into her favorite novel over the death of a character she so adored, despite her knowledge of the books notoriety for killing anyone and everyone. Then the way she dances to her music while cooking dinner as if no one was watching, but I watched. I watched her in fascination every time I witnessed her beauty. The way those emerald eyes would light up when a certain song would play on her radio, or a funny scene played on her television set. The dimples showed in her cheeks whenever she would really smile, not one of those fake smiled you give to appease one, but those real smiles I always felt I was the only one to witness.

                I never realized how this woman affected me, but as time passed and I basked in her presence I began to notice my entire existence was changing. I noticed every passing day that I grew stronger. I was able to do more and feel more. I began to flex and enjoy the sheer power that was mere existence I hadn't felt in so long. This was all her doing. My perfect creature, my dear sweet Rowen, you know not the spell you have placed upon me. Someday I might be strong enough to approach her. Someday I will be strong enough to speak to her, and maybe even strong enough that she can see me. I can hardly imagine it. The idea of holding her alone is enough to make my chest tighten with warmth, if there was anything inside. No more will I hide in shadows and watch from afar, begging for the chance to have her hands in my own. For the first time since I died I will be... alive.