Midnight Cove

Chapter One: A Brush with Death

With ticking time this tale is told,
Upon this earth the young turn old,
Innocent blood like tears are shed,
Two kindred souls bound for dead;
With their pasts made present and their future unclear.

Only because of the terrible memories, had it been possible for me to leave. I saw my wings in the mirror, and finally accepted, I was not the human girl I thought I was. Magick had saved me from the happiest day of my life, and now, I sat and sobbed on my bathroom floor.

My wings disappeared again. Who knew how, or why? Who cared? All prospects of hope and joy for the future faded. I could not foretell the moments that would come any more than I could have guessed at the ones that led me to where I was now. I was a stranger adrift in a sea of unknown circumstances. At that moment all I had was a toilet smelling of refuse, a black wedding dress, and my memories.

I don't want to give you the wrong impression, the struggle has been worth the journey; as is the case with most epic adventures. If I could have but one more moment with him, I would endure it all again. I would risk everything for one kiss, one look. One touch from him would be a soothing balm to my burned and ravaged soul.

I am getting ahead of myself though. Let me revisit my last summer as a normal girl of nineteen. Not quite sure how many years ago now, but I do remember it was the beginning of the apex of my life.

I didn't remember my parents back then. They died when I was very young. My sister took on the responsibility of my upbringing, but she too, died within the last year. The doctors had told me it was heart failure. One morning, she just didn't wake up.

At first, I didn't want to remember any of it, but as each day passed it became harder. I couldn't recall the little details anymore. I wrote about her in my journal, worried one day I might completely forget her. With her gone, I was forced to go on alone.

Life was more good days than bad though. I was proud of my place. I had cultivated a safe space to grow and heal. A place filled with sunlight and simple happiness. I lived in a strange studio apartment above a garage; a quaint and clean space with a view of Coast Highway and the beach.

My studio and my work were both there, in Encinitas. I worked six days a week at a drive-thru coffee shop. My shift usually ended by eleven o'clock in the morning, and I enjoyed having the afternoons to myself. With my simple, white-washed doors opened wide, I liked to lie on the floor, and bask in the glorious warmth of the afternoon sunlight; the feeling of smooth bamboo floors under my skin.

My place was separated from the main house by the backyard. An older gentleman, Terry, owned the place. He liked to surf, and kept mostly to himself so I was free to be at peace. Here, I would amble through the beautiful garden filled with luscious ferns and fragrant flowers.

The town, like my apartment, was bright and warm. Filled with a laid-back, welcoming aura that many of these small, funky beach towns have here in Southern California. Huge windows faced the beach and when opened caught the salty sea breeze. I loved the free-flowing beauty that constantly surrounded me. It was almost easy to be happy when I was there. I didn't have to try as hard.

The days were my favorite, especially during those hot summer months. On clear nights, I could count the few stars outside my windows, but most nights a thick fog rolled in. The coastline was blanketed in a ghost-like ambiance. In the early morning hours, it looked as though mesh cotton had been strewn about my doors and windows. Beautiful as it was, I feared the suffocating white fog. Inexplicable feelings of cold, bitter loneliness seeped through me.

It was on an early morning just like that, when I had my first brush with Death. It was August and getting close to the beginning of the school year. I decided to ride my bike over to the junior college. Being a family of one on a very limited income the community college was the cheapest route to a higher education. I made sure to get up extra early and had set my alarm to four a.m. the night before. It was almost a ten-mile trek on my bike to get there.