Fame had different meaning these days, and he had no trouble finding it online. Soon, everything he did was watched and applauded. Soon everything he did was watched and analyzed to death.
People thought he did things for bizarre reasons that he never even thought of. People thought he did the right thing when he felt he did the wrong and the wrong thing when he did the right. People hated him or loved him, threatened him, stalked him, proposed to him without ever having met him.
Eventually, he just had to get away.
He went to the woods, an obscure wood, one long since forgotten in the age of the internet. It didn't even have web cams. He was sure no one would find him here.
He was wrong.
He groaned when he reached the high point on the trail and saw her. He turned to leave.
"Wait, don't go!" she called out.
He turned and tried to put on a fake smile, knowing she was about to ask to take a selfie with him.
But then her face fell. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you," she said. "And I didn't mean to tell you what to do. I just meant that I don't mind if you stay."
He felt puzzled. "You don't know who I am?" he asked.
She shrugged. "No. Should I?"
He smiled for what felt like the first time in years.
They stood in silence for a while, admiring the view overlooking the surrounding trees. After a while, she spoke again, "It's nice to get away."
"It is," he agreed.
They chatted more after that, and climbed back down the trail together.
She invited him to dinner and cooked some fish she had caught earlier that day around an open fire.
The next day she taught him how to catch some of his own.
They spent a whole week together, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and on the last day, she kissed him.
"Do you think we could meet up again?" he dared to ask.
She shrugged. "Maybe," she said. "I come here every couple of months."
"Perhaps I can, too?" he suggested.
She smiled softly. "Call me when you need to get away," she said, handing him a paper with her phone number already written on it.
As tempted as he was to call her that very next day, he waited until the next time he wanted to go to those woods.
It took three trips before it happened. Someone else found them there.
The fan's eyes lit up, and he though, Oh no, here it goes.
But the woman did not turn to him. The woman turned to his companion. "You're The Naturalist!" the fan exclaimed.
The outed celeb smiled back. "The one and only," she said.
"Can I get a selfie with you?" the newcomer asked.
His friend gave the weary look he was all too familiar with himself. "Of course," she agreed.
Once the well-meaning interloper was on her way, he turned to his companion and asked, "You're famous?"
She shrugged. "Only in some circles," she admitted.
"I had no idea," he replied.
"It's okay," she said. "I like it that way. Sometimes it's nice to not be famous."
He smiled and took her hand. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, it is."
Friday, May 24, 2019
Saturday, May 11, 2019
Too Young
Just a prick and it's done. A simple ceremony. Too simple for the impact, being bound for life, for eternity, to her new master. But what choice does she have? She's dying and she doesn't want to die.
He doesn't seem so bad. A bit old, a bit weird. But she can deal with that.
And it's not like she's the only one. He has other servants as well.
This is fine. It will all be fine.
Margaret is 23 and she is too young to die.
After the ceremony, a quiet affair to echo its simplicity, she goes to live with him in his house on the hill. To call it a mansion would be a bit extreme, but it's pretty darn close.
Margaret's job is cleaning. It would be cooking, too, if anyone in the house were still alive. But Margaret's new master has a strict rule about such things and no one who still has a beating heart has ever set foot in his home. Or so he says.
The ceremony he requires in everything is a bit strange. Strange that there are more rules about what to clean and how and where to go and when than there were about the change that was required to get Margaret here. But she supposes these rules of the house are his to make, whereas the ceremony to turn her is much older, far older even than he must be.
Margaret does her job. She speaks to others in the house when needed. She reads the books available and watches the town where she once lived from afar. Her parents send her letters sometimes, until they grow old and die.
Everyone grows old and dies outside the house and Margaret watches their burial ceremonies from afar, and Margaret lives on.
They become legends in the house, and even though they have never caused harm and even though they never turned anyone who didn't ask for it, the village grows older and the village grows more fearful.
She never meant to hurt anyone, but when they come to burn the mansion, Margaret has to defend herself.
She is 382 years old, and she is too young to die.
It's strange to think of being ready to move on. It's stranger still to think that her master had chosen to leave her in charge.
The village has changed by now. They don't fear the house or those who live there. Margaret and her brothers and sisters have moved from being legends to being myths. Some assume no one lives in the house at all, and those who try to come see if the house is empty are politely turned away, unless they happen to be looking for something more.
Margaret has learned much from her master over the centuries, and on the rare occasion that someone mortal does learn what's really going on, she is the one who must now perform the ceremony to turn them.
There is less choice in the matter now, and more need to force the rest of the town to forget.
Margaret doesn't want to lose anyone in the house ever again, since that day so long ago when she was so young.
And in many ways, Margaret is still young.
Her master had lived in this house for nearly a millennium.
Margaret, on the other hand, is only 517 years old, and she is too young to die.
She considers them her children, though she will never have as many as her master once did. Some of them decide to leave and she lets them, though she never knows if they can make it on their own. They leave the safety of the house and go beyond the village. Maybe she has grandchildren and great-grandchildren now.
She will never know.
Margaret has lived her whole life in this house. Well, technically she's lived about 97.7% of her life in this house, but those first 23 years hardly count for anything.
It's hard to even remember who she is anymore.
Really, she's all those she's turned and now she finally begins to understand why her master decided to go.
She leaves the house and responsibility to one of the others, one she turned a few centuries ago, and goes to lay out on the roof, to feel the direct sunlight on her face for the first time in nearly 1000 years and the last time in her existence.
She is 987 years old, and finally, she is no longer too young to die.
He doesn't seem so bad. A bit old, a bit weird. But she can deal with that.
And it's not like she's the only one. He has other servants as well.
This is fine. It will all be fine.
Margaret is 23 and she is too young to die.
After the ceremony, a quiet affair to echo its simplicity, she goes to live with him in his house on the hill. To call it a mansion would be a bit extreme, but it's pretty darn close.
Margaret's job is cleaning. It would be cooking, too, if anyone in the house were still alive. But Margaret's new master has a strict rule about such things and no one who still has a beating heart has ever set foot in his home. Or so he says.
The ceremony he requires in everything is a bit strange. Strange that there are more rules about what to clean and how and where to go and when than there were about the change that was required to get Margaret here. But she supposes these rules of the house are his to make, whereas the ceremony to turn her is much older, far older even than he must be.
Margaret does her job. She speaks to others in the house when needed. She reads the books available and watches the town where she once lived from afar. Her parents send her letters sometimes, until they grow old and die.
Everyone grows old and dies outside the house and Margaret watches their burial ceremonies from afar, and Margaret lives on.
They become legends in the house, and even though they have never caused harm and even though they never turned anyone who didn't ask for it, the village grows older and the village grows more fearful.
She never meant to hurt anyone, but when they come to burn the mansion, Margaret has to defend herself.
She is 382 years old, and she is too young to die.
It's strange to think of being ready to move on. It's stranger still to think that her master had chosen to leave her in charge.
The village has changed by now. They don't fear the house or those who live there. Margaret and her brothers and sisters have moved from being legends to being myths. Some assume no one lives in the house at all, and those who try to come see if the house is empty are politely turned away, unless they happen to be looking for something more.
Margaret has learned much from her master over the centuries, and on the rare occasion that someone mortal does learn what's really going on, she is the one who must now perform the ceremony to turn them.
There is less choice in the matter now, and more need to force the rest of the town to forget.
Margaret doesn't want to lose anyone in the house ever again, since that day so long ago when she was so young.
And in many ways, Margaret is still young.
Her master had lived in this house for nearly a millennium.
Margaret, on the other hand, is only 517 years old, and she is too young to die.
She considers them her children, though she will never have as many as her master once did. Some of them decide to leave and she lets them, though she never knows if they can make it on their own. They leave the safety of the house and go beyond the village. Maybe she has grandchildren and great-grandchildren now.
She will never know.
Margaret has lived her whole life in this house. Well, technically she's lived about 97.7% of her life in this house, but those first 23 years hardly count for anything.
It's hard to even remember who she is anymore.
Really, she's all those she's turned and now she finally begins to understand why her master decided to go.
She leaves the house and responsibility to one of the others, one she turned a few centuries ago, and goes to lay out on the roof, to feel the direct sunlight on her face for the first time in nearly 1000 years and the last time in her existence.
She is 987 years old, and finally, she is no longer too young to die.
Wednesday, May 8, 2019
Juxtapose prompt
I am the light and you are the darkness.
I am the heat and you are the cold.
I am pure joy and you are sick agony.
I am so young and you are so old.
I dance at midday and you slink at midnight.
I am above and you are below.
I think of grander things while you are so selfish.
I know so many things that you do not know.
I am so lovely; you'll never be beautiful.
I know I'm always right while you never are.
I have perspective but you don't have anything.
I am so close to you, yet you seem so far.
I am the greatest thing the world has ever seen.
I have true power while you have no might.
I do not seek you, so likely I'll never know
That I am the darkness while you yearn for light.
I am the heat and you are the cold.
I am pure joy and you are sick agony.
I am so young and you are so old.
I dance at midday and you slink at midnight.
I am above and you are below.
I think of grander things while you are so selfish.
I know so many things that you do not know.
I am so lovely; you'll never be beautiful.
I know I'm always right while you never are.
I have perspective but you don't have anything.
I am so close to you, yet you seem so far.
I am the greatest thing the world has ever seen.
I have true power while you have no might.
I do not seek you, so likely I'll never know
That I am the darkness while you yearn for light.
Monday, May 6, 2019
Broken
"It's broken," she said with a frown, holding out the two halves of the once whole vase. There were tears starting to form in her eyes.
I tried for a comforting smile. "No it's not," I said. "It's just something different."
We turned it into two bowls instead.
I tried for a comforting smile. "No it's not," I said. "It's just something different."
We turned it into two bowls instead.
Sunday, May 5, 2019
Looking
Most people live their lives looking back, but when you only see the future, that isn't an option.
I make a lot of money with my skill. I know that because I'm looking at my bank account right now and I can read each memo on the checks explaining what I saw that earned me those five figures. I can't remember what I saw, though. I've already seen it after all.
All I see is the future. When I look in the mirror, I see myself old. I don't remember how I was raised, but I must have been raised okay because I only have one scar (which looks like it was from having my appendix removed), and I feel pretty well adjusted. I wonder if my parents ever call? I would imagine they do, but all I know is they haven't called in the last 30 minutes. That's the only way I could remember it.
I have a nice house, full of things I must like, or must have liked at some time, because I have them.
I think I must have some friends, because I don't feel lonely. Whoever they are, they must be willing to put up with a lot. Or maybe they like me feeling like I'm meeting them for the first time whenever they call me up or text me or knock on my door.
I guess I could check my phone contacts to see who I know, but what's the point? The names I'll see, I'll just forget in half an hour anyway. My friends know how to find me. They must.
I wonder sometimes if it's better this way, seeing what's going to happen instead of what has, looking forward instead of looking back because you have no other choice.
I'll never know another way, and since I feel okay, then that must be alright with me.
I make a lot of money with my skill. I know that because I'm looking at my bank account right now and I can read each memo on the checks explaining what I saw that earned me those five figures. I can't remember what I saw, though. I've already seen it after all.
All I see is the future. When I look in the mirror, I see myself old. I don't remember how I was raised, but I must have been raised okay because I only have one scar (which looks like it was from having my appendix removed), and I feel pretty well adjusted. I wonder if my parents ever call? I would imagine they do, but all I know is they haven't called in the last 30 minutes. That's the only way I could remember it.
I have a nice house, full of things I must like, or must have liked at some time, because I have them.
I think I must have some friends, because I don't feel lonely. Whoever they are, they must be willing to put up with a lot. Or maybe they like me feeling like I'm meeting them for the first time whenever they call me up or text me or knock on my door.
I guess I could check my phone contacts to see who I know, but what's the point? The names I'll see, I'll just forget in half an hour anyway. My friends know how to find me. They must.
I wonder sometimes if it's better this way, seeing what's going to happen instead of what has, looking forward instead of looking back because you have no other choice.
I'll never know another way, and since I feel okay, then that must be alright with me.
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Good Night Valentines
"I hate Valentine's Day"
Natalie wasn't sure what prompted her to send that text to the previously anonymous guy she now knew as Aaron. She supposed she just wanted to complain. And it wouldn't really come off as flirting if he knew neither her gender nor sexual preferences, right?
She stared at her phone for a second and then saw he was typing a response. "Yeah, me too. But day after is great," her phone screen said.
"Whys that?" she typed back.
"Half price candy."
She smirked. He had clearly set her up for that, but she had let him.
"I guess thats not all bad," her reply text admitted. "U do anything else for this holiday?"
"Nope. I had a girlfriend one year but that didnt last"
Natalie frowned. "Sorry" she typed back, not knowing what else to say.
Across town Aaron shrugged. "No big. She wasnt right for me anyway"
He watched a reply being typed, wondered if this person on the other end had been trying to send some sort of hint with the text that started this, their third conversation of sorts. He was bad at relationships, he thought. Bad at reading people. Reading people through texts was even worse. He didn't even know who this person was really. He just knew whoever it was was a little over 24 and had been feeling lonely at the new year. For all he knew, they hated Valentine's Day because they had started a new relationship between then and now and didn't know what to do on a love based holiday with someone they hadn't been dating for very long. Then the message arrived and he was not sure what to do with it: "I havent found someone right either"
Aaron felt his pulse in his chest. Was he being flirted with? This person knew he was a guy, so if it was flirting, they were likely interested in men. He wasn't sure if this would turn out better if it happened that whoever it was was also a man and he could just say he was straight or if they were a woman and he might actually be interested. Before he could think too much about someone he didn't even know, he typed back, "Are you looking for someone?"
A pause before the typing started again and then, "I don't know."
That was, that was actually probably good. "Sometimes you just need a friend," he typed back.
"But not Greg," came the reply.
It took him a moment of confusion before he scrolled back up their texts and realized he had mentioned his brother. "Greg isn't that bad," he admitted in text format.
"Ok."
Aaron bit his lip as he considered whether this would be too forward, especially considering he wasn't sure where any of this was going to go, but ultimately he figured, what the heck and typed, "I could still use a real friend though."
The text came faster than he expected this time. "Tell me more about you and we'll see what I can do."
Aaron smiled. Whoever this was, it was nice to at least have someone to talk to. He thought about lying, making up a whole backstory that wasn't his, but even though he still didn't know who this person was, he felt like he wanted to be honest with them, so he typed back a little about his job and a hobby or two followed by, "What else do you want to know?"
They chatted for a couple hours after that, until the other person said, "I'm gonna go to bed now"
"Okay"
There was a pause and then: "Natalie"
He again had to process that for a moment until he realized she was giving her name. And that it was a she. And that he could possibly be attracted to her if they ever met in person. But that was too much. That was too creepy, right? He put that thought out of his head and instead just typed out and sent, "Good night, Natalie"
"Good night, Aaron."
Natalie wasn't sure what prompted her to send that text to the previously anonymous guy she now knew as Aaron. She supposed she just wanted to complain. And it wouldn't really come off as flirting if he knew neither her gender nor sexual preferences, right?
She stared at her phone for a second and then saw he was typing a response. "Yeah, me too. But day after is great," her phone screen said.
"Whys that?" she typed back.
"Half price candy."
She smirked. He had clearly set her up for that, but she had let him.
"I guess thats not all bad," her reply text admitted. "U do anything else for this holiday?"
"Nope. I had a girlfriend one year but that didnt last"
Natalie frowned. "Sorry" she typed back, not knowing what else to say.
Across town Aaron shrugged. "No big. She wasnt right for me anyway"
He watched a reply being typed, wondered if this person on the other end had been trying to send some sort of hint with the text that started this, their third conversation of sorts. He was bad at relationships, he thought. Bad at reading people. Reading people through texts was even worse. He didn't even know who this person was really. He just knew whoever it was was a little over 24 and had been feeling lonely at the new year. For all he knew, they hated Valentine's Day because they had started a new relationship between then and now and didn't know what to do on a love based holiday with someone they hadn't been dating for very long. Then the message arrived and he was not sure what to do with it: "I havent found someone right either"
Aaron felt his pulse in his chest. Was he being flirted with? This person knew he was a guy, so if it was flirting, they were likely interested in men. He wasn't sure if this would turn out better if it happened that whoever it was was also a man and he could just say he was straight or if they were a woman and he might actually be interested. Before he could think too much about someone he didn't even know, he typed back, "Are you looking for someone?"
A pause before the typing started again and then, "I don't know."
That was, that was actually probably good. "Sometimes you just need a friend," he typed back.
"But not Greg," came the reply.
It took him a moment of confusion before he scrolled back up their texts and realized he had mentioned his brother. "Greg isn't that bad," he admitted in text format.
"Ok."
Aaron bit his lip as he considered whether this would be too forward, especially considering he wasn't sure where any of this was going to go, but ultimately he figured, what the heck and typed, "I could still use a real friend though."
The text came faster than he expected this time. "Tell me more about you and we'll see what I can do."
Aaron smiled. Whoever this was, it was nice to at least have someone to talk to. He thought about lying, making up a whole backstory that wasn't his, but even though he still didn't know who this person was, he felt like he wanted to be honest with them, so he typed back a little about his job and a hobby or two followed by, "What else do you want to know?"
They chatted for a couple hours after that, until the other person said, "I'm gonna go to bed now"
"Okay"
There was a pause and then: "Natalie"
He again had to process that for a moment until he realized she was giving her name. And that it was a she. And that he could possibly be attracted to her if they ever met in person. But that was too much. That was too creepy, right? He put that thought out of his head and instead just typed out and sent, "Good night, Natalie"
"Good night, Aaron."
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
Happy Birthday
"It's my birthday today."
Natalie was very confused when the text message from a number she didn't recognize popped up on her phone. She clicked it to bring up her messaging app, intending to reply with something like "Sorry wrong number." But when the app loaded, it showed her a past conversation with this number. It had been the only response to her drunken gatling gun fire of new year messages. All she knew about this person was that they had a brother named Greg and apparently their birthday was January 31. She considered ignoring this new information as she allowed herself to feel embarrassed that this stranger had her number at all, but ultimately she figured why the hell not and typed back, "Happy birthday!" And then after a brief moment of hesitation wondering if she even wanted to know the answer to her next question, or if she would get an honest response at all, she decided to go all in and asked, "How old?"
"Thanks. 31." Came the combined response.
She smirked as she typed back, "31 on the 31st huh?"
"Only time," was sent back and it took her half a second to realize they meant this was the only day the day of the month would correspond with the number of years they were turning on their birthday, assuming of course they were even telling the truth.
"Already passed my only time. Was 24 on March 24 few yrs ago," she replied before she could think better of revealing this personal information to a stranger.
There was a longer pause this time with a bit of typing and apparent retyping before her mystery friend decided to simply send, "I'm Aaron btw".
Natalie took a moment for herself after that. Should she share her name? If this person was being honest, if it was a guy turning 31 and she admitted to being a woman in her late 20s, could that get awkward? She didn't want this to be awkward, but then again why should she even care? She had started this on a whim anyway, and she had no obligation to be honest about any of this. Heck, she didn't even know if he (assuming it really was a he) was being honest. Still, she couldn't bring herself to lie. With a sigh, she replied, "Happy Birthday, Aaron."
"Thx" was the shortest reply yet, followed by silence.
Natalie was very confused when the text message from a number she didn't recognize popped up on her phone. She clicked it to bring up her messaging app, intending to reply with something like "Sorry wrong number." But when the app loaded, it showed her a past conversation with this number. It had been the only response to her drunken gatling gun fire of new year messages. All she knew about this person was that they had a brother named Greg and apparently their birthday was January 31. She considered ignoring this new information as she allowed herself to feel embarrassed that this stranger had her number at all, but ultimately she figured why the hell not and typed back, "Happy birthday!" And then after a brief moment of hesitation wondering if she even wanted to know the answer to her next question, or if she would get an honest response at all, she decided to go all in and asked, "How old?"
"Thanks. 31." Came the combined response.
She smirked as she typed back, "31 on the 31st huh?"
"Only time," was sent back and it took her half a second to realize they meant this was the only day the day of the month would correspond with the number of years they were turning on their birthday, assuming of course they were even telling the truth.
"Already passed my only time. Was 24 on March 24 few yrs ago," she replied before she could think better of revealing this personal information to a stranger.
There was a longer pause this time with a bit of typing and apparent retyping before her mystery friend decided to simply send, "I'm Aaron btw".
Natalie took a moment for herself after that. Should she share her name? If this person was being honest, if it was a guy turning 31 and she admitted to being a woman in her late 20s, could that get awkward? She didn't want this to be awkward, but then again why should she even care? She had started this on a whim anyway, and she had no obligation to be honest about any of this. Heck, she didn't even know if he (assuming it really was a he) was being honest. Still, she couldn't bring herself to lie. With a sigh, she replied, "Happy Birthday, Aaron."
"Thx" was the shortest reply yet, followed by silence.
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