Our Deathly Love

Nare; Letters; and Bald Popular Girls!

Crisp, flat, white, unstained, and perfect......

What do these things have in common? They, those things, are what envelopes should look like, absolutely nothing like the envelope that lay in front of me.

The envelope that lay before me was a rich deep blue, the ink that marked the letter was a scarlet red. A flurry of penmanship addressed strictly to be opened by Emelia & Aurora Badica graced its deep blue front. Mail was a rare thing around my house, even rarer letters!

The envelope had a tear in the side, as though hastily opened and shoved just as hastily back in. Even stranger was the fact that the letter was on my kitchen table! My mother had a cupboard by our front door that she stored mail/letters in when we did reaseve them... unless something really bad was in the letter... or really good.

                                                           'Shit! What if its about Lilly's hair?'

Of course that thought was quickly demolished. The school would never be able to send a letter out this soon. Plus it wasn't the vice principal's 3'rd grade penmanship. And lets face it: he's dumb as a sack of bricks. He would never be able to prove it was me who washed all of the locker room soap down the drain and instead put Nair in it! The guy can hardly tie his shoes for Christ sake! No way would he be able to prove it was me. I know he knows it was me but without proof, all he can do is help those bitches straighten their wigs! Which left me with one question still unanswered:                                                     'What is it!?'

I looked out the back window quickly to see my mother's small body pruning and weeding her garden. Her dark curly long brown hair was pulled up in a bandana, her dark brown eyes set determined on those pesky herb-killing weeds. She seemed busy, too busy to talk, too busy to be disturbed, too busy to really care.

I wrapped my finger around one of my dark brown curls, pondering the thought of how wise it would be to disturb her from her garden. If there was only one thing I have learned from my mother, it would be that gardening helps block out things. If you work hard enough, that is. At times it's a good way to keep the hands working and the mind thinking.

My mother was easy to upset these days, and it seems like the garden is her only reprieve, since my father died.

I remember small parts of that day, that month, and that year. I was only five but I remember the ring-ring-ring of the phone. It ringed 13 times. The unlucky, number before my mother picked it up. I remember my mother's smile slowly but surely fall as the blow of the news hit her. My father's brakes had given out; he had gone off the side of the Carpathian Mountains. Needless to say, it was a closed casket.

The days following the funeral my aunt moved in with us. Our small house had only 2 bedrooms so I was moved to the couch. I did not like my aunt. I still don't. A lot can be said about how a woman makes her pb&j's or the shiftiness of her eyes which seemed to follow me around. I hardly saw my mother more then her frequent trips to the bathroom. Which were once every 3 hours and 37 minutes. There's plenty of time for waiting when you have no friends.

It took my mother 2 months to start getting back into the swing of things, though things never went back to exactly the way they were. My mother slowly went back to obsessing over her garden. I do not blame her though. That was her job, which was all she ever knew. She was the local healer, the best in all of Romania, if you ask me. She would have been much better known if it wasn't for dad. Sometimes I think I hate him. For dying on us, for leaving us with the loud mouth villagers who are superstitious, and quick to place blame, to leave me as the scapegoat. A child without a father in the house is sure to bring bad luck.

I try not to tell my mother the things they say. I don't know if she could handle it. She would not be able to handle the fact that people cross themselves and the street when I'm around. So they can be far away from me. The girls at school giggle and spread rumors about me and don't allow people to be my friend. They say I will curse them. But even worse are what their parents say, whisper, smirk that I killed my Father, that it's my fault he is dead, that I'm evil, That I should have died, that I should have never been born. So in the end here I am, 11 years later friendless, fatherless, and lifeless.

With all of these things out in the open I know it's better not to disturb her so instead I take the hard deep blue envelope and pull the white letter from its dry scratchy bowels and read.

Dear Emelia,

You do not know me, I am ever so hopeful though that can change!

I would be pleased to tell you some simple things such as I am 34, single, white and a woman. My name is Pandora S. Box, and I, like you, have lost a loved one, my beloved mother. I know you are thinking: what does this happen to do with me? Well my mother loved to help. She was kind and considerate. She believed in love, friendship, and family, over war, segregation, and death. Right now there is a war going on. It is not visible to the human world. Wars, walls, and hate are being built up like mountains for our people!

Witches are being attacked, drained, and killed by all kinds and losing their minds and powers to the darkness. Dying well before their time like your father.

Weres and Vampires are being hunted down, exposed and killed by all kinds.

Angels are condemning their kind for hardly the right reason, corruption consuming the royals. With the way things are the angels are damning like crazy.

Fallens are becoming more and more evil like shifters and fey. There are inner feuds, bloodshed and hatred.

Ghosts never seem to be able to let go of the past so that they can age as they please so they can move on with their life (forgive the pun).

The world is changing fast. Will you be ready?

What hope is there when we cannot even get along with our magical brothers and sisters? My mother's last wish was that I HELP! That, I MAKE A DIFFERENCE! Which is why I wrote to you, Emelia. You should know that there were well over 1,000 of these letters sent out to teens just like you Witches, Weres, Shifters, Vampires, Fey, Fallens, Angels and more. All asking, no, begging, the same thing, to embrace the changing world.

I'm willing to supply you with a full scholarship to my school. I understand how hard things are when you are different, when you have no father, when you are alone. Everything you need to know about my school is on the separate pieces of paper behind this one. I hopefully look forward to seeing you there.

With the love of the world,

Pandora S. Box.

I stared blankly at the letter and even more blankly at the signature at the parental signature slot. My mother's curly brisk penmanship slashed across the slot seemed careless, harsh and horrid. She had signed. It might as well have been my death certificate!

Blind rage ran through me. I could feel the tingling coursing through my body as I slammed my fist with the letter on the table. Pain erupted in my hand but I paid no attention to the pain and stomped as loudly as I could muster to my room where, in a fury I slammed my door so hard that a multiple of pandas from my collection went flying from there starch white shelves on my bright teal wall to my plush white carpet.

Hot, salty, coarse tears streamed down my face as I stormed over to my Ipod speakers. I kicked random pandas as I went. I watched angrily as their spotted bodies hit the wall in disarray. I turned the dial all the way up and Flyleaf's chaotic music filled the room and the house.

I plopped angrily on my bed, shoved my head into my pillow and cried. My own mother was sending me away!

I mean I know I'm not perfect, but neither is she, for Christ's sake! I would be eaten alive at that school, literally!

I hate this town and all the people who live in it but I'd much rather stay here then become dinner for some hungry vampire's again! I shivered at the thought of my last encounter with the monsters, the leaches, the vampires.