Until Forever (1st draft)

Part the Twentieth

Like most 15-year-olds, Geneva had thought quite a bit about love. Would she ever find that elusive paradise promised by true love? Would she even be able to recognize the "right one" if he came her way? What if the person who was predestined to be her match in a magical romance was right there in front of her but she didn't realize it and missed her once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Or what if he didn't love her back?

She certainly knew the love of family. She actually considered herself fortunate to have experienced that growing up. Even though she was sometimes jealous of friends that had big families, she was very close to her mother and that was an incredibly special relationship that she wouldn't trade for any other circumstances. She didn't have any siblings and her father had never been a part of her life, but her mother was almost a sister at times, certainly her best friend. That's why her death had been so utterly devastating to Geneva.

But so far she had never experienced that passionate love where one heart becomes synchronized to the beat of another. Her first boyfriend was in fifth grade and it didn't last long, which is to be expected at that age especially when it only started in the first place as a result of peer pressure. After that she realized she didn't need an association with a popular boy to complete her identity. So she refrained from playing the dating game again until she thought she had found something special. Aidan. He was her closest friend since preschool, a person you could cry with and trust to keep your secrets. When they got older their relationship took a strange turn into the dating realm after they both misinterpreted an experimental kiss. Unfortunately things weren't as blissful as they might have envisioned, and in the end it sadly spoiled their close bond when they tried to go back to "just friends."

Her feelings for Nellaf, on the other hand, were something completely different. She now understood the dizzying fever that inspired those stricken by it to write poetry and love songs. Laying there in his arms overnight, her skin tingling every time he shifted against her, she could think of nothing else but him. His voice, his smell, his body, his eyes, his touch. When she occasionally drifted off to sleep she dreamed only of him. She realized that she was probably being ridiculous, but she never wanted to leave his embrace. It was like he had cast a spell on her heart.

So when she awoke to a strange noise and discovered that she was alone in the oversized bed, she sat up quickly, surprised and disappointed. Why had he left without telling her? Morning light spilled into the room, but with all of the candles extinguished it was still dark and difficult to see through the wispy bed curtains. Maybe he had gone to make breakfast.

"Nellaf?" she asked quietly. No answer. The only sound was a faint melody drifting into the room. She realized now that it was this sound which had awoken her. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, then sat perfectly still and listened more intently with her wakening senses. The melody was actually a voice. A beautiful voice, singing softly in perfect intonation. Who was singing? It certainly wasn't Nellaf.

"Hello?" she asked, almost ashamed to interrupt the beautiful song. Again there was no answer to her question, but the singing continued. The voice clearly wasn't originating from this room. Geneva sat up and pushed through the curtains. There were two doorways in the room; one was open and led out to a long corridor, the other was closed off by a wooden door. Faint candlelight twinkled in the narrow space below the door.

Geneva got up and crept quietly on bare feet toward the door. Sure enough, the singing was coming from the other side. She bent down and leaned close, turning her head to focus an ear toward the weathered wood, and listened. The feminine voice was beautiful, yet haunting; soothing, yet incredibly sad; and the lilting cadence showcased the singer's incredible range. Even though Geneva couldn't understand the words, they gave her goosebumps. The song was enchanting. A wide smile came across her face even as a tear rolled out of one eye.

She had to find out who was singing.

Slowly and carefully she reached for the thick metal handle, hoping to open the door without disturbing the performance. But then she heard something else behind her.

"Sshhh!" somebody hushed at her. Startled, Geneva spun around to be confronted by an all-too-familiar face.

"Steekbunk!" she gasped from her bent position. Then, before she could utter another word, Steekbunk Lowbone pulled a thick, coarse hood over her head. A strong fragrance filled her nostrils, causing her vision to blur instantly and her knees to wobble. Gasping for air, she reached up for the tight covering but it was a futile effort as darkness claimed her.