Boy Meets Girl (Grant)

My head shot up, still foggy from its slumber, while my mind worked overtime. Attempting to sort out my situation, I spoke to myself. "Dang it, I must've drifted off".

I looked around and attempted to make sense of my new surroundings. The scent of Alisar's sewers vanished, and the light from my laptop in front of me burned into my eyes. Gazing down, I was greeted by the all too familiar sight of my wrinkled, hand me down clothes. I was no longer an exiled prince accompanied by the daughter of my sworn enemy. I was no longer Edward Alisar. I was simply Grant Davis.

Disappointment set in as I got up to stretch. It's impressive how much damage sleeping at a desk in a shady bunker can do to your back. Letting out a ferocious yawn, loud enough to make lions tremble, I looked at the clock in the bottom right corner of my laptop screen reading 5:30am. Thank goodness. I wasn't going to be late. If possible, I'd like to avoid drawing the wrath of Ms. Langley again.

Although I wouldn't be late, I would have to hustle back to my apartment to change before I began yet another treacherous day among the many demons that parents had the misfortune to call their children. Fortunately, the bar was set pretty low for school experiences yesterday, so there wasn't anywhere to go but up, at least, that's what I told myself. I opened the door to go outside, and greeted by the grey skies of an early Ohio morning, I started my trek to the run down apartment complex that I call home.

Being left with little else to do on the long walk home, I explored my thoughts. I didn't believe in a god, or much else for that matter, but I reflected back on the church services I was dragged to as a child, trying to recall the sermons that I struggled to sit through at the time. One of them stood out in particular. The only one of which I could remember the name. "Our Eternal Father, The Author of Our Lives". The pastor, speaking as a silver-tongued politician, wove together a story. "Brothers and Sisters, today, I'd like to speak with you about our trials, and triumphs. Our joy, and despair... I'd like to talk to you about the story of our lives."

The pastor continued on, explaining how God's known as the author of eternal salvation, or the author of peace. I began to wonder, is this perhaps what God feels like? To create characters, and the trials that they have little choice but to overcome? And in this world that He's created, is there a protagonist?

I was brought out of my stupor by the familiar sight of my beaten up apartment door. Opening up the weathered door, I looked inside, and instantly, I began to miss the colorful walls of Alisar. The golden accents lining the perfectly white wall were replaced by chipping wallpaper, and the exotic vases that I spent the night dreaming of were replaced by empty supermarket cups. My heart fell, taking in the world which I was bound to. Ignoring the change of scenery as best I could, I rushed to get ready for yet another day of imprisonment. Rewrapping my arm as I walked out the door, I stepped onto the sidewalk with no choice other than to continue on. All things considered, today was off to a much better start than yesterday.

I wouldn't have to deal with Eric anymore, I'd be on time, hopefully avoid Ms. Langley's wrath, and to top it all off, the weather wasn't horrible this morning. So why did I feel so empty? I pondered this question until I arrived at Wailing. Once again pushing through the school day, I arrived in the halls, containing record breaking amounts of anxiety. Just like yesterday, the hall went silent at my arrival, but the stares that fell on me were different. Some were still cold and resigned, others contained hatred, but many were filled with an admiration. I wasn't the only one to suffer at the hands of Eric and his friends.

The bell rang, and I headed to Ms. Langley's class. Sitting down in the same seat as yesterday, I crossed my fingers that Eric wouldn't set himself down next to me. After a nerve-wracking five minutes, the second bell rang and my fears dissolved. He wouldn't be coming to class today. Hopefully not ever. Ms. Langley began going down the roll sheet, looking up and down as she went to match the face with the name. Everyone seemed to be accounted for, except for one, that is. Looking at the empty chair next to me, Ms. Langley asked the class, "Has anyone seen Eric today? Or did he decide that he's too good for my class?". The class fell silent. Finally, Ms. Langley grew tired of the quiet and with eyes full of hellfire spoke. "Kyle, I know that you're good friends with Eric. Do you know where he ran off to by any chance?"

Kyle was a confident man, but even he couldn't withstand the presence of Ms. Langley's attention for too long. "He transferred schools, ma'am" he blurted out." Ms. Langley responded as her fierce gaze returned to its typical, disappointed self. "Interesting. You think that somebody would've told me."

Ms. Langley began her lesson. The moment she wrote the first number on the whiteboard, the world around me disintegrated into an impenetrable black mist before reforming into a colossal room, bathed in light and lavishly decorated. I was no longer in my class. This was the familiar festival hall of Alisar.

Shadows appeared around me, slowly gaining shape and color until I found myself standing face to face with a woman who looked to be close to my age. She was arrayed in an ornate ball gown, bearing the embroidered green and white dragon of Jethuis along its hem. Music floated up from the orchestra laid out behind me, and the young woman began to dance. As she moved, the dragon along the bottom of her dress began to move with her, as if telling the stories of Jethuis's history with every step, and I was unable to look away. It was strange. It didn't feel like a dream, and yet, I knew that the world I created couldn't be anything but a figment of my imagination. The woman caught me staring, and pulling me out of my trance, spoke in a questioning, yet playful tone. "Are you going to ask me to dance, or are you content with watching the festivities from afar?"

Struggling to spit out an answer, I finally managed to stutter out a weak "Sure".

Unsurprisingly, she seemed discontent with that answer. Her emerald green eyes staring into mine, she waited for what felt like an eternity before speaking again. "My name's Janerra by the way, if you'd like to ask properly."

If this world was fake, which it must be, then I didn't have anything to lose. Taking in a deep breath, and speaking as boldly as I could in the strange circumstances, I tried again. "Janerra, would you care to dance with me?"

She pulled me into her arms, swinging me along the dance floor. "I'd love to." She answered.

I desperately tried to keep pace with her. Even in Ohio, I was far from a gifted dancer, and given that this was a dance from a foreign continent that I didn't believe existed, I wasn't doing a great job. As if tired of leading someone so blatantly lacking in talent, our dancing came to a stop. Janerra looked me up and down, and perhaps just now taking in my strange apparel began to question me. "You're not Etomian are you?" She asked.

As I opened my mouth to respond, my consciousness crashed back into my body, the world around me returning back to Ms. Langley's less than average classroom. By the time I regained my senses, class was dismissed. While everybody around me got up to leave, I remained seated. "What just happened?" I whispered to myself.

I shook my head, attempting to wake myself up and was shocked to see Ms. Langley standing directly in front of me. Choosing to respond to my rhetorical question, she spat out, "You tell me, you've been sitting there with a blank expression on your face all class" It took me a moment to process her words. As I opened my mouth to respond, she lost her patience and began to yell. "forget it, I don't have time to deal with a student that won't give me the basic courtesy of their attention in my own classroom, now take your stuff, AND GET OUT OF MY CLASS!"

Students from the next period began to file in while I hurriedly gathered up the few items sitting on my desk, and booked it out of the hostile environment. I'd need to move quickly if I were to make it to English on time. I pushed open the door leading to Mr. Yellum's room, and eagerly sat down in wait for the one class that I was excited for. The bell rang as I let out a sigh of relief. I made it in time. The noise in the classroom began to die down, and Mr. Yellum got up from his desk, commanding the attention of his students, and in bold lettering, began to write on the whiteboard, "Why do we create?"

Mr. Yellum, searching for an answer, began to call on the many eager students, raising their hands. One student after the other gave their own answers. "To express ourselves", one said. "To get a good grade," said another.

The class burst out into laughter. Once the noise died down, Mr. Yellum's gaze froze on me, as if contemplating something before he spoke. "Grant, what do you think?"

I froze for a minute, formulating my response. Finally, I decided on what I'd say. "To escape" I answered.

Mr. Yellum nodded before continuing on with his lesson. "It seems that each and every one of you has your own answer, but which one's right? What truly pushes humanity to create?" He paused, his eyes scanning the classroom, until they again rested on me. After what felt like an eternity, Mr. Yellum continued on. "The truth is, any reason that you might have to create, is the right answer. Whether it's an escape, a way to express yourself, or even just to get a good grade, that's enough. We've all been given a series of incredible gifts. We've been given hands to write, eyes to see, ears to hear, minds to think, and a soul that craves creation. I don't claim to know if God exists or not, but I know that if He does, then It is Him that has given our souls this desire. Ladies and gentlemen of the world's brightest generation... You must not throw away your inherent drive to create. You have a duty to follow after this underlying desire, you have a duty to explore the soul, and express its contents. You have a duty to create." His words flew around my head, before finding their resting place at the forefront of my mind.

"I have a duty to create."

The bell rang, and before I could get up, the girl that talked to me about the archetype project yesterday turned to me. "Hey, it's Grant, right?".

I was about to answer, until she cut me off. "What is it exactly that you're escaping from?"

I thought for a while. I wish she'd asked "What's your favorite color?", like a normal person. It would've been a heck of a lot easier to answer. I looked back on my life, on all the trials that I've had to push through, on my dead mother, my absentee father, and the bandages wrapped around my arm. I thought back to the day before, and the bloodthirsty masses that cheered for my suffering. Finally, I answered her. "Myself, I guess".

The girl's eyes were filled with something almost pitying while she responded. "Tell you what Grant, if you want some help escaping, I'm throwing a party. Drop by my place tonight, and we'll all escape together."

She began to smile and handed me a crumpled up paper. She got up to leave, as I opened up her gift, reading the words she placed there. "587 Rainforest Way, 7pm" I hurriedly followed after her, and reaching her, I tapped on the girl's shoulder. She turned her body to face me. "I don't know you, why are you inviting me?", I asked.

As if waiting for me to ask, she responded in an instant.

"First of all, My name's Annabelle, so now you know me, and secondly, I invited you because I want you to come, so you better show up, alright?".

Without waiting for a reply, Annabelle turned around, and began to walk away. I didn't go after her this time.

The school day continued on, turning out to be fairly uneventful. I zoned in and out of my classes, my mind getting caught up in a series of daydreams, until Finally, the last bell rang. I gave a silent prayer of thanks for my liberation from this prison. Gathering up my stuff and walking out the doors, I began the walk back to my refuge in the woods. The skies were their usual cloudy, grey color, and it started to sprinkle. As my walk continued on, the rain began to fall faster. I pulled up the hood of my second-rate sweatshirt, and by the time I reached the entrance of the bunker, I was drenched from head to toe.

I opened the door, turning on the generator, and the rundown electric heater, before sitting down at the familiar, yet wobbly desk. I pulled out my laptop, and once again, I began to write. I pounded on the keys, creating the life of adventure that I wished to live. I lost all awareness of the world around me, immersing myself into a life that wasn't my own. I wasn't the bullied student that I was a few minutes ago. I was no longer a pitiful excuse for a teenager. I was Edward Alisar, heir to the Eternal Throne. I wrote for minutes, and then hours, unable to break away from the world which I devoted myself to creating. I wrote of joy, and of sadness; triumph, and loss. I wrote of the emotions that humanity strives to feel.

Barely managing to break free from my obsession, I gazed down at the clock resting at the bottom of my screen, reading 6:00pm. "Dang it" I said to myself.

I shoved my laptop back into my bag, and shut off the generator before rushing out the door. I was going to be late to my first party. I speed walked home, until I reached my apartment door. As quickly as I could, I ran inside, showered, and put on the least cheap looking clothes I owned. A million thoughts danced around my head, "Who will be there?" was one. "What if this is just an elaborate prank", was another, but the biggest one stood prominently at the forefront of my mind. "What's wrong with Annabelle? No girl in her right mind would invite me to a party, right?"

Disregarding all semblance of common sense, I shoved open the door and began to sprint towards a street which I was well familiar with. Rainforest way. As a kid, my parents used to drive me there on Halloween night. It was one of the nicer neighborhoods in my part of Akron, and it was well known for handing out king-sized candy bars. Having arrived at the start of the road, I snapped out of the daze of childhood memories. The sun had long since gone down, but despite the darkness, Annabelle's house wasn't hard to find. It had cars pouring out of the driveway and onto the street. The door was wide open, and two people that I didn't recognize sat outside, drinking out of each other's plastic cups, and whispering into one another's ears as if they were in a young-adult romance film.

My nerves started to get the best of me, and the feeling that I shouldn't be here began to take control. Almost unconsciously, I started to turn away in order to begin the walk home. I took one step, and then another. I was about to take a third when I heard a familiar voice calling out to me. "Hey Grant"

I looked back to see Annabelle standing in front of her house, her face illuminated beneath the porchlight. She stared at me for a minute, her dark blue eyes studying me, before continuing on. "where are you headed off to so soon?"

I stood there for a minute, unmoving while I tried to compose a sorry excuse for my departure. As I was lost in thought, Annabelle walked down from her porch, and grabbed my arm, leading me inside. I was too shocked to respond, much less fight back. As if to add to my surprise, she didn't let go upon entering her house. She sat me down on a couch in the living room, before setting herself down beside me. "You want anything to drink?" She asked.

I responded curtly, while putting on my best attempt at a smile, "I'm fine, but thanks for asking."

She must've seen the way I fidgeted with my hands, or one of the many other symptoms of my unease, because as quickly as we sat down, she got up and began to speak to me, "Come on. I got some people that I need you to meet."

At this point, I gave up every last reservation of control and followed her lead. She guided me through a large room filled to the rim with dancing teenagers, through a kitchen packed with cheap beer, and people that I failed to recognize, and finally, out the back door leading to what I could only assume was Annabelle's back yard. It was filled with one of the prettiest gardens I've ever seen and stretched further than I could see in the little light available.

I took a deep breath. The cool night air filled my lungs, slightly calming my fears. After taking a moment to clear my head, I looked over to find Annabelle still clinging to my arm. She turned her head to look up at me. "You're not a big partier, are you?" She asked.

"What gave it away?" I answered.

I tried to sound sarcastic, but it didn't come out that way. Annabelle's face fell, and a sadness filled her eyes. She took her hand off of my arm before she spoke again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you come".

I wasn't exactly sure what to say. It had been awhile since I'd received any kind of genuine apology. After a while of silence, keeping my gaze focused on the garden sprawled out before me, I took her hand, and placed it in my own, our fingers interlocking. "Do you know why I've never been a big partier?" I asked.

Annabelle didn't answer. I let the quiet linger for a moment, listening to the muffled , mass-produced music coming from inside the house. After a few moments, I opened my mouth, and answered my own question. "Honestly, I've never been invited to one before".

The quiet once again overtook us, while Annabelle maintained her silence, as if deciding on what to say next. "Do you think you'll come to any more?" She asked.

I tried to answer her as honestly as I could. "I suppose that depends on how tonight goes."

Annabelle's hand squeezed mine. Taking my gaze off the yard, I turned to find her staring up at me. The moon reflected off the deep blue pool in her eyes, and for a second, I could almost hear the waves crashing down inside of them. In a whisper, Annabelle's voice drifted into my ears. "Come with me".

She tugged at my hand and led me into the center of a garden. I found myself in a clearing, with the company of a girl that I'd only met the day prior, and the stars watching from their celestial thrones. Reaching into her pocket, Annabelle pulled out her phone. Selecting a slow, romantic melody to play from it, she raised our intertwined fingers to point at the sky, and guided my remaining hand to rest on her hip. She placed her head onto my shoulder, and speaking to me in a soft voice, whispered "If you're going to keep coming to these, then you'll have to learn to dance."

We swayed back and forth, and my mind began to wander. I looked back on the coming-of-age ball that I wrote about the night before, and envisioned Edward and Alexandra moving gracefully around the dance floor, just as I found myself doing now, however, this time, something was different from my imaginations. Alexandra's face was no longer blurry, lacking definition. I could see her face perfectly in my head, it being burned in my mind. I recognized the eyes that contained the oceans of Etomia, and the brunette curls that could be found falling down her back. It was the same face that I felt resting on my shoulder. It was Annabelle.

We moved side to side until the world around us came to a stop. I felt our spirits leaving our bodies, and in the sky above, they continued to dance. Together, we soared through the air, looking not at the world lying beneath us, but at each other, until finally, the music stopped, and our spirits crashed back down to earth. For what might've been a minute, or perhaps an hour, I didn't move. Neither of us did. I simply held her against my chest; perhaps in fear that if I let go, she'd disappear. The weather began to get colder, and faced with the threat of hypothermia, we decided to head inside.

The party looked like it had died down. The majority of the people went home, and the few stragglers were either passed out, or throwing up in the toilets. Annabelle and I stood there in the dim lights of the living room, and I turned to look at her, studying her face. It really was beautiful. I don't know what I did to deserve this woman. All I know is that I was happier than I'd been in a long time. she wrapped her arms around me in an embrace that I wish lasted for a lifetime, burying her head in my chest. I took my hand, and lifted up her chin until her eyes were focused on my own. I spoke in a soft voice, as if to avoid killing the spirit of romance that sojourned between us. "Annabelle. I'd like you to promise me something."

Her gaze started to bore into my soul, and within my heart, began to carve an empire of emotion. "Anything," She replied.

I began to speak again. "Promise me that when the sun rises, and a new day begins, you'll still feel the same way about me." "I promise...♡/your Ash. p.s. I love you"

Annabelle squeezed my body even tighter. "I wouldn't dream of having it any other way." She answered.

I took her arms off from around me, and turned to leave. I almost reached the front door until I was spun around as if by a whirlwind. Before I could properly process what was going on, I felt something on my lips, and electricity shot through my body. Annabelle's lips fell away from mine, and she whispered, "You better not forget our promise, pretty boy."

She opened the door, and I began the walk home. My head was full of new memories and as I walked around the corner to leave her street, I turned my head up to face the stars. For the first time in a long time, I laughed.

I arrived at the door to my apartment, and walked inside. Nearly ready to pass out, I flopped down onto my bed. Scenes from my night with Annabelle drifted through my head. I saw the way that we moved throughout the garden's clearing, swaying back and forth. I saw the way that she grabbed onto my arm when I first arrived at her house, and finally, I saw her lips locked onto mine. Lost inside of my own thoughts, the world around me disappeared. My eyes shut, and fueled with the sweet memories that only love could bring, I was overtaken by the sweet embrace of sleep.