Chapter Three

The figure began descending the stairs to The Cellar in slow, deliberate steps, revealing a pair of black shit-kicker boots, slim-fitting dark wash jeans, followed by a black t-shirt that clung to chiseled muscle with a pocket that read “STAFF” in red stitching.
“Do you mind telling me why you just killed my messenger, angel?” I hissed. He let out a low laugh and tossed me the vampire’s cold, dripping heart. Snatching the organ midair, I brought it to my lips and took a bite out of it like it was a succulent peach I’d just plucked from a branch. Blood dripped down my chin, but I was too ravenous to care. Being part sanguis demon meant I was more than happy to gorge myself on the vampire delicacies laid out before me. I knew I’d regret it once I was back in my human form, but my bloodlust had been triggered by the carnage I’d inflicted. Waste not, right? The angel watched me as I continued my undead feast while I waited for his answer.
“They weren’t the only ones who had a job to carry out tonight. Lucian gets what he wants after all, as I’m sure you know all too well.”
My body went rigid as I met his gaze. That name was an acid bath against my flesh, and I was sick of hearing it, Lucian this and Lucian that.
“Fuck Lucian,” I spat the words, droplets of blood spraying from my lips.
“From what I’ve heard, you already have.”
The instant the words left his mouth I lunged forward, wrapping my hand around his throat, talons digging in as a single line of silver blood ran down his neck. To his credit, the angel didn’t even flinch, just stared down at me with that single blazing sapphire eye.
“Since when does Lucian Aramos associate with angels, hm? See, I think you’re full of shit. Why would he send an angel to kill his own men? Men he sent here, to kill me?” He opened his mouth to respond but I tightened my grip, and a shiver of pure satisfaction rolled through me as his Adam’s apple bobbed and caught against my fingers. “And I’d think twice before lying if I were you. Now speak,” I commanded, loosening my grip a fraction.
“Lucian only associates with disgraced angels,” he said through gritted teeth, and my brow furrowed at his words.
“How do I know you’re disgraced? You look like a regular ol’ angel to me.”
He brought his hand up and swiped the silver strands of hair back from his face.
“Well, how about that,” I whispered as my stare fixed on what he’d revealed. A black leather eye patch covered his right eye entirely, and recognition slammed into me.
“You’re The Deceiver. Oh, I’ve heard about you. Mostly myths and legends, I’m sure, but you’ve created quite the reputation for yourself. Someone was a bad, bad boy, wasn’t he?” I flashed a grin, and to my surprise he smiled back despite my hand being clamped around his throat. “If memory serves, you were branded as a traitor to the Seraphim. Something about working as a double agent with the demons to betray your angel bretheren? Sound about right?”
“Yeah, something like that,” the angel grumbled.
Pleased with his response I released my grasp and dropped the male as I took a step back, suddenly wanting to expand the space between us. He rubbed at his neck for a moment and cleared his throat, that streak of silver blood smudging against his tan skin.
“Lucian didn’t send Nico and Draven here to kill you. He sent them here to die. Those two made the mistake of disobeying their master, and as you can imagine he didn’t take too kindly to that. He may be a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Those two were never going to walk out of this room alive, Lucian knew you would see to that. But yet, you left one alive to deliver a message to him. Why?”
I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d done it. I could’ve killed both of them and been done with it, but my human intuition had been buzzing, and somehow had won out over my demon bloodlust. I wasn’t going to tell that to The Deceiver though. I crossed my arms at my chest and shrugged.
“Maybe I just liked the idea of him running back to his master, tail tucked between his legs with a story to tell about the demon bitch that tore his friend’s head off. Sounds like Lucian could use the reminder anyway.”
“You’re missing the point, demon. If Lucian wanted you dead, you’d be dead, believe that. This was all just a sort of… killing two birds with one stone… so to speak. He gets rid of two disloyal males, and he gains a meeting with you in the process.”
I couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that poured out of me. Only Lucian would have the balls to think that I would grant him a meeting after he had sicked his pathetic dogs on me. I popped the last of the heart into my mouth and wiped the blood from my chin.
“I have better things to do with my time than involve myself with vampire politics. Why does Lucian want to meet with me so badly, anyway?” I asked as I chewed.
“I’m sure your boss told you the answer to that. He has a job for you. He said you would be difficult to convince, which is why I’m here, to ensure that every aspect of tonight went exactly according to plan. This is for you,” he said as he pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and held it out to me. My eyebrow raised and I took the offering, feeling the weight of the envelope in my hands.
“What’s this?”
“An advance, if you agree to meet with Lucian, tonight.”
“Tonight? Oh, for fucks sake, why does it have to be tonight?” I groaned.
“Because he doesn’t want to give you any more time to reconsider. He does have a condition he asks, however.”
“Ha! Of course he does. What does King Leech want now? It’s not enough that I unknowingly did his dirty work for him, now he’s making demands too?”
“You know how he is,” the angel said with a shrug. “He wants you to wear the dress. He said he knows you still have it, and he asks that you wear it tonight when you grace him with your presence.”
I rolled my eyes but considered the request. He knew I loved that goddamn dress. I looked down to my bloodied palm that clutched the bulging envelope. I opened it up and peeked inside. Holy shit. There had to have been at least 100,000 marks in there, a generous advance. If the job was for real, then I couldn’t afford to turn it down, no matter how much I wanted to. One last job. I also couldn’t deny that some sick, curious side of me wanted to see Lucian again, wanted to show him the creature I’d become.
“When and where?” I asked.
“Midnight, at Aramos Manor.”
“Fine. I’ll be there. But hear this, Deceiver, you tell that asshole that if he tries to pull anything, I’ll make sure it’ll be the biggest regret of his long life. Got me?”
“Oh, I’ve got you. I’ll be sure to deliver the message. You better head home and get ready. You don’t want to keep Lucian waiting.”

Chapter Four

It had been almost ten years since I last stood at the rod iron gates of Aramos Manor. The sight of the sprawling mansion set back amongst the weeping willows that framed the property released the floodgate of memories I’d managed to bury deep within the recesses of my mind. Never forgotten, merely kept at bay.
Lucian had sent a car to pick me up at my condo. After politely declining with a flip of my middle finger to the driver, I began the walk to Oldetown. Back in my human form I took my time, using the crisp night air to clear my head and mull over exactly how I needed this meeting to go. Whatever happened, I couldn’t let Lucian take control.
I’d already humored him enough by agreeing to wear the dress he’d requested, and as much as I hated to admit it, the garment accentuated every curve of my body. The deep burgundy, almost black color reminded me of my demon half, not unlike the way it reminded Lucian of the half-breed blood that ran through my veins, ‘the most exquisite cocktail,’ he’d once called it. The plunging neckline drew the eye to my exposed neck and the swell of my breasts, just as the dual slits up the sides provided teasing glances of my thighs. I knew exactly why he loved the way I looked in the gown. It turned a seemingly ordinary, half-breed woman, into a delectable vampire feast for the senses, a role I’d played for Lucian and his clan more times than I cared to remember; But I needed to remember.
Tonight was going to go down on my terms, not his. I’d play the little mindfuck games he enjoyed so much, but only as a means to get what I wanted out of the deal. And if Lucian refused to play by my rules, then all bets were off. I nearly moaned at the thought of shedding blood at Aramos Manor. Blood that I had earned by the spilling of my own. But the more I thought about the revenge I craved to the depths of my soul and back, the more questions I had, and now they were boiling to the surface. Was this job as real as the envelope of marks I’d been given? Or was it just a sleight of hand gesture to lure me back to this damn place? If there really was a job, why was Lucian so insistent that I was the only Prowler he would accept? He’s trying to get to me, I fucking know he is. Lucian Aramos didn’t do anything without some sort of ulterior motive. I knew him better than most, or at least I did once.
Metal scraped and groaned, jolting me from my thoughts as the iron gates suddenly opened, beckoning me inside to begin the night’s festivities. Putting one black stiletto carefully in front of the other, I walked down the cobblestone drive, swiping my hands along the sides of my hair, making sure that every single strand of my midnight waves was swept into the high chignon bun. Lucian loved it when I wore my hair up, and I wasn’t above giving him what I knew he wanted to see. I was counting on the fact that I could still make his breath catch after all these years. He never was very good at exercising self-control, and I had every intention of using that to my advantage. A good prowler made it a point to know everything about their target, and tonight, Lucian was in my crosshairs. I would hear what he had to say, but he was treading on very thin ice.
Craning my head back, my eyes trailed over the mansion. It was exactly as I remembered it. The Tudor-style walls that towered above the ground, and the massive, slim windows that housed beautiful stained glass in varying shades of crimson and smoke evoked memories of my time spent within the beautiful prison. Days that bled into night, weeks that had turned to months. The stunning mansion was a beautiful lie that hid the horrors within from the outside world, lies that I would one day expose, when the time was right. But for now, I was content to just bide my time, and take whatever job Lucian was about to offer. The bastard had no idea that he was about to fund his own downfall, and the thought brought a smile to my lips as I finally reached the front door of the manor. Drawing in a deep breath, I exhaled slowly as I reached out and rang the doorbell.
Time slowed. My chest heaved as I sucked in a lung-full of cool midnight air. I rubbed my trembling palms together and ran them down the front of my dress, smoothing the fabric against my stomach, feeling the nerves within fluttering up through my chest. Do not let him see you hesitate. Do not cower. I squared my shoulders as the door swung open and Lucian was suddenly standing before me.
“Hello, my sweet,” he crooned in that low baritone that raked down my spine, but I suppressed the shiver that threatened to overtake me.
“Hello, Lucian. It’s been a long time. You look well,” I said in the most gracious tone I could muster, a sweet smile dancing across my ruby lips. The annoying thing was that I hadn’t lied, he did look every bit as handsome as the last time I’d seen him. His dark hair was cropped short on the sides, the top left a bit longer and swept back from his face. High cheekbones accentuated his deep-set eyes, eyes the color of my blood. His granite jawline housed a wide mouth, set into what appeared to be a permanent smirk. Arrogance radiated from the male, and my fist clenched at my side at the reminder. He wore black, slim fitting trousers paired with a matching dress shirt, the sleeves rolled nearly to his elbows, sporting little diamond studded cuff links with a sparkling “A” on them. The look was completed with a grey tweed waistcoat, cut low so that it perfectly highlighted his narrow, yet strong frame. My eyes trailed back up only to find Lucian watching me intently, that obnoxious smile still pinned in place.
“Well, are you going to invite me in or are you just going to stand there gawking?” I asked as I lifted my chin to meet his gaze.
“There she is,” Lucian said with a wink. “I wondered how long you could keep up with the ruse of well-mannered house guest. Of course, come in.”
I stepped into the grand foyer that hadn’t changed at all in the last ten years, much like Lucian.
“It’s good to see you, Kali. You look every bit the way I remembered,” He said softly, and to my absolute horror he reached forward and wrapped his arms around me in an embrace. Before I could stop myself, my own arms were wrapped around him, palms flat against his muscular back. We lingered there for a moment, stuck in a past I’d tried so fucking hard to forget. But with every second we stayed locked against one another, the old, painful memories blurred, and different, gentler ones surfaced. Memories of our bodies entwined much like this, on a bed of silken sheets and feather-soft pillows, kisses being trailed over creamy, delicate flesh in flickering candlelight. I could practically feel his lips pressing against my neck, fangs scraping gently against my pebbled skin as I shuddered. A hot breath against my ear, and then that sinfully beautiful voice that had haunted me for years.
“You smell just as I remember as well, my pet.”
I gasped at hearing the name I’d come to despise. Pulling back, Lucian smiled as we finally broke contact and I swallowed, my throat bobbing as I attempted to reign in my nerves.
“Come, let’s have dinner,” he said as he took me by the hand gently and led me from the foyer and into the adjoining dining room. I followed, still speechless at the way my mind had so quickly turned on me, the traitorous bitch. He had always managed to have this effect on me, right up until the end, that is. Remember, Kali. Remember why you’re here. I pulled my hand away abruptly and Lucian turned back to look at me, and I swore I saw that smirk waiver for just a moment before he recovered and nodded towards the table before us.
“Please, sit. We have so much to talk about,” he said as he pulled the heavy wooden chair out in front of me. I sat and Lucian gently pushed me closer to the table before taking up his own seat on the end to my right. The table was covered in plates of steaming hot food. Roast beef and duck, garlic noodles, savory root vegetable blends, buttery rolls and more. It smelled incredible, but I had no interest in eating. I just wanted to get the details of the job and get out as soon as I possibly could. A door opened and closed from somewhere nearby, and I turned towards the sound to find the angel from Club Sin stalking toward us.
“Ah, Elias, you’re just in time. Although, for fucks sake man, would it have killed you to dress up a bit? Tonight is important and we want to make a good impression on our lovely guest,” Lucian said, cutting a glance at me and flashing a fanged smile.
Elias. So, The Deceiver had a name after all.
The angel was wearing the same black jeans from earlier, but had exchanged his STAFF shirt for a simple, grey cotton V-neck tee.
“Unlike you, Lucian, I don’t feel the need to pretend to be something I’m not for the sake of company. No offense,” he said as he looked at me. I shrugged and the male nodded and took a seat at the other end of the table to my left.
Lucian glared at Elias from across the table before clearing his throat to speak.
“Doesn’t Kali look exquisite? I had that dress made specifically for her.”
“I would’ve thought you had that dress made specifically for you, Lucian. Kali wears it beautifully, yes, but who are you kidding? That was more of a gift to yourself than a gift to her. Vampires love to show off their pets, don’t they?”
I slammed my hand on the table and stood, rattling the delicate glassware as I sneered at the angel.
“I am not his fucking pet. If you know what’s good for you, Elias, you’ll do well to remember that. Got me?”
Lucian threw his head back, laughing uncontrollably, while Elias just stared at me.
“And you, enough of your bullshit, Lucian,” I spat, his laughter dwindling as he looked at me, those crimson eyes widening ever so slightly. “I’m not here to eat your food and rehash the past. I’m here for one reason, and one reason only. You have money, and I fucking want it. So tell me why you called me here tonight. And get me a scotch while you’re at it.”
Lucian and Elias both stared at me, blinking like big, stupid animals that had never been told to shut the hell up.
“Your scotch is right in front of you, Kali, as if I’d forget how much you love it.”
My eyes moved to the table and sure enough there was a crystal glass filled with scotch, the bottle placed next to it. I took the drink and downed it in one gulp before pouring myself another. I picked up the glass and raised it in Lucian’s direction.
“Cheers to you, Lucian, my dear. You wanted me and I’m here. Now cut the shit and tell me about this job, I’m all ears.”
Elias chuckled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked at Lucian, waiting for him to speak.
“Oh, how I’ve missed that fire in you, Kali,” Lucian said. “But you’re right, let us get down to business, shall we? What I’m about to tell you is not known by the general public. This information is extremely sensitive, and the last thing we want is to cause alarm amongst the people of Blackridge. Do you understand?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Lucian. I’m a Prowler, and a damn good one. You don’t need to tell me about the importance of discretion. Now get to the point.”
I saw the tick in his jaw that Lucian tried so very hard to conceal, but he continued.
“The Council has received reports that someone has been attempting to open portals to the Underworld.”
I froze. What did he just say? Opening portals to the Underworld? That couldn’t be right, it just… couldn’t.
“Yes, I can tell you’re equally as disturbed by the news as we on the Council were when we first learned of it. None have been opened as of yet, but whoever this is has been attempting to bypass the security wards.”
“But those wards have been in place for over a century,” I said.
“Yes, they have. Which means they have had plenty of time to learn how to bring them down.”
“There have been attempts before though. No one has ever succeeded or even come close. So why is this any different?” I asked as question upon question began forming in my mind.
“Because this time it’s happening on a larger scale,” Elias said, and I turned to look at the angel as he continued. “It began as a singular incident, so nobody thought anything of it. But then shortly after, another attempt was made. Then another. Then one night, three separate attempts were made, simultaneously.”
My blood ran cold as I tried to comprehend exactly what he was saying. I took a long, slow drink of my scotch, letting the liquid burn as I swirled it around inside my mouth, gears churning in my mind.
“Why would anyone want to open portals to the Underworld? To what benefit? Those wards are in place for a reason, everyone knows that. I’m half demon and even I’m not stupid enough to want the portals opened. Fuck, could you imagine what would happen if…”
“Yes, the entire Council knows just how serious this situation could potentially be. Which is why everyone voted to get a Prowler on the job as soon as possible to figure out who is behind the attempts. After all, you’re the ones who were originally tasked with keeping the balance, and I think this falls under that umbrella. Naturally, I thought of you,” Lucian said.
“Naturally,” I replied with a grin. Charming bastard. I leaned back in my chair and propped my legs up onto the table, crossing them at the ankles. “Let’s just say, for sake of argument, that I agree to take the job. What kind of pay is the Council willing to provide a lowly Prowler such as myself?” I asked as I rocked my legs back and forth, watching Lucian as his eyes followed the length of my legs up to my thighs. His eyes flashed to mine, those crimson irises rippling with lust, and I smiled broadly at him as I waited.
“The Council is willing to offer you one hundred thousand marks.”
“The Council can get fucked if they think I’m going to accept this job for one hundred thousand marks.”
Lucian leaned forward in his chair; elbows perched on the table as he continued to watch me.
“How about two hundred thousand marks?”
My head fell back as I laughed. I was going to make the Council work for this one. I had every intention of taking the job, of course. They needed the best Prowler money could buy if they had any hope of finding and stopping the culprit before things took a really bad turn. And I was the best, plain and simple.
“Five hundred thousand marks.”
Elias let out a low whistle. I’d almost forgotten we weren’t alone. Almost.
“You’re getting warmer, Lucian,” I said as I ran my fingers down the neckline of the dress. His eyes were blazing now as he ran his tongue along his lips, weighing his options.
“The Council is only willing to offer you five hundred thousand, Kali. I tried to tell them you wouldn’t accept it. They think any Prowler would do just fine but I know better. I was the one who pushed for you, specifically. I’ll make you a deal, my sweet. I’ll make it an even one million marks, on one condition,” he said, and I raised an eyebrow signaling him to continue. “One Million marks, and an evening of dinner and conversation here, with you. One evening in each other’s company. No preconceptions, no expectations. What do you say to that?”
I considered the offer, but only for a moment. I knew he had more to give, and I wasn’t even surprised by his little condition he’d added in so nonchalantly. Lucian was an important figure in Blackridge. A wealthy business and aristocrat, but also the newest member of the Council. Since he’d taken the position, his notoriety had risen in the city. He wanted to prove that he could be the one to get this not-so-little problem under control. As his station in life had increased though, so had his security measures. And with our sordid past together, it wasn’t exactly easy to get him in a position to let down his guard. But I knew Lucian better than most, and he loved making deals that worked in his favor. He always had to get a little something extra out of every bargain he struck, and these days, so did I. If he wanted time alone with me, I was going to make him pay out the nose for it. He’d shown his hand now, and I was about to go for the jugular.

“I’ll do you one better. Five million marks, and one night with me. From sundown to sunrise, I’m yours, in every sense, just like the old days. I’ll even agree to it in writing. Five million, and one night with little old me. Do we have a deal, Lucian?”
Lucian’s chest rose and fell, but his gaze never left mine.
“Deal.”

Home — Creative Coffee Cafe (thehouseofvoid.com)

In March 2024, the Creative Coffee Cafe hosted their first of many Monthly Writing Contests. The theme was “The Unknown”. This was my submission that ultimately was deemed the winner. It was my first attempt at flash fiction, and I’ve got to admit, I’m incredibly proud of it. Enjoy ❤

I ran until my bare, aching feet couldn’t carry me a single step further. There’d been no stopping me, not even when my lungs began to burn and my legs threatened to give out under the weight of the choice I’d made. I didn’t have a clue where I was going. The only thing I knew was where I’d been and that if I ever had to go back, it would be the ruin of me.

Deep down I knew I’d been running for years. I felt it to my bones, no matter how long I’d been telling myself the lie that everything was fine. I’d taken the first steps, but I had so much further to go before I was out of the woods and could finally see the sun rise again, feel its warmth more than just flesh deep. And I craved it something fierce.

It was only when the cover of night had approached that I dared to stop and catch my breath. My body doubled over, stomach retching at the insatiable thirst in my throat. Finally, my legs couldn’t hold me any longer and I collapsed to the ground, leaves and sticks pressing into my knees, fingers digging into the damp soil beneath me.

“Your dress is getting dirty.”

My head jerked up at the voice. A man in a black suit was leaning against a nearby tree, his face shrouded in darkness.

“Stay away from me.” I stumbled back, needing to put distance between us.

“Get off the ground, Maggie, you look ridiculous.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Oh, I know everything about you. I know you’re destroying the dress your mother paid so much for.”

My gaze drifted down to the dirty, torn black dress. The tulle skirt was shredded at the bottom, highlighting the tiny cuts on my shins from my desperate escape into the woods.

“I know you’re running away from the problems you helped to create. That you’re a selfish, scared little girl. And I know that in the end, no matter how far or fast you run, you’ll end up right back where you started. Because you’re weak, Maggie. Now get up and go back where you belong.”

“I’m not weak,” I said softly as I pushed myself up off the ground to my feet.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m not weak.”’

“But you are. You know it, I know it, and so does everyone else. All this time you could’ve changed everything. But you didn’t. You just stayed quiet, day after day. Pretending, smiling, laughing. Now it’s too late. This is what you are. This is what you deserve. Now, turn around and go back.”

A part of me whispered that he was right. This was my fault, all of it. If I hadn’t been too scared of the unknown, I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. Years I’d wasted. But it wasn’t too late, it just couldn’t be.

I stepped to the side, and he did the same in turn.

“Don’t do it,” he murmured. “Please, just come back.”

His voice was so familiar. And something in my chest heaved and broke as he spoke, his entire demeanor shifting into something softer.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as I took another step, and the stranger mimicked the motion.

“Things will be different, better. Please, Maggie.”

Tears fell down my cheeks, but I didn’t wipe them away. There was truth in them, my truth that I’d ignored and pushed down time and time again. But I couldn’t do it any longer.

“I can’t, I’m sorry.”

The stranger lunged toward me, and I broke into a sprint, running deeper into the darkness of the forest. I chanced a look behind me, but he hadn’t followed. I didn’t dare stop. Thorns cut into my flesh, tearing into the delicate fabric of my dress, but I pushed onwards.

Eventually I came to a river and changed direction to follow it. I didn’t dare cross, too afraid of getting swept up in a current I wouldn’t be able to fight. The trees ahead began to thin out and a clearing appeared. Stars littered the night sky overhead, the newfound moonlight glittered off the river. My legs slowed and the sound of rushing water drowned out my beating heart. The river had become ravenous, catapulting over an edge of jagged rocks into a massive waterfall.

I moved closer to the edge, peering over to the pool of water below. I glanced left, then right. The cliff face was enormous, cutting off any further route of escape. I’d hit a dead end. The only option was to turn back. I spun, and was met with nothing but stark, unyielding darkness. No forest, no river, no nothing. Just an endless black void.

“You have to go forward.”

I turned towards the voice, this time a familiar female one. The waterfall was still there in front of me, but I could feel the looming darkness at my back that seemed to inch closer with every passing second. A woman stood at the edge of the cliff; her face turned towards the falls just out of view.

“You have to jump.”

I moved closer, legs trembling but she didn’t look at me.

“I can’t. What if I don’t survive the fall?”

“But you will. You’ve survived everything thus far. You can’t live your life afraid of the unknown, Maggie. You just have to be brave. There’s nothing left for you back there. Take my hand. I’ll jump with you.”

I glanced back, the void still pressing down on us from all sides. She was right. I knew what the darkness held, and I wanted no part of it anymore. I steeled myself and took her hand as we stepped up to the edge. She finally looked at me, and I smiled as my reflection smiled back. Together, we jumped.

I jolted awake, drenched in sweat.

Today, I will be brave, and embrace the unknown.

Today has been a shitty day. Fucking Tuesday. Eight hours sitting in an office, listening to phones ringing and staring at invoices totaling more than I make in six months has ground my brain to mush. My nerves are fried, and I have exactly zero fucks left to give.

The end of the workday brings a hint of relief, but it’s not enough. In the confines of my living room, I sit in front of the tv, not noticing or caring, what the people in the 34-inch box are saying as I eat my caesar salad dinner. I love a good caesar salad, but my lingering stress from the day turns the crispy greens to ashes on my tongue. A migraine thrashes against my skull, threatening to tear away the last shred of sanity I am clinging to so desperately.

Anxiety and exhaustion rule my mind and cripple my body from 8:30- 5, every single day. Go to work, die a little inside, then go home. Repeat again the following day. My only saving grace in a world where I fear I’ll lose my mind entirely to boredom and routine, is knowing that after the shit from the day has been sorted, there is a big, fat joint waiting to make me feel human again.

It’s the only routine that brings me joy. Freed from the confines of my work clothes, I slip into my pink leopard print nighty that makes me feel just the slightest bit sexy and assume my position on the floor. Ready to begin my relaxation ritual, I slide my little magic box of green sunshine out from its hiding spot under the coffee table. I don’t need to hide my stash, being a grown ass woman and all, but old habits die hard, and I can never quite shake the feeling that I’m doing something I’m not supposed to. Maybe I don’t want to lose that piece of myself, too.

I open the box to begin the best part of my day. This week's herb of choice is good old Northern Lights, an indica dominant strain that is sure to squeeze every last ounce of adulting and responsibility from my weary soul. I pull out the small, coffin shaped box of my favorite rolling papers, cleverly titled Blazey Susans, and gingerly tug one thin, powder pink paper out of its housing, careful not to crinkle it.

Next comes the handy Zig-Zag rolling tray. The tray is a necessity as I refuse to drop any of the precious and expensive herb onto the worn-out carpet beneath my exposed legs. I peer into the sandwich bag, debating which fuzzy green nugget will be sacrificed tonight in my journey to happiness. Finding just the right one for the job, I set about my last task of the evening. One final thing, and I will finally be able to breathe and think and feel again.

I crumble the sticky, aromatic plant onto the tray. I focus on the ground up dust that sticks to my fingers as I continue to break the nugget down in preparation for the final step.

Next comes the actual rolling process, which could, and should, be considered an art in itself. Folding my pretty pink paper in half, I begin sprinkling the weed into its final resting place. As it was once a living thing, it does my soul good to know it is serving its purpose in life, sacrificing itself to lead this shell of a person back to normality. I roll the papers between my fingers, taking extra care to let the herb spread out evenly, the key to a perfectly rolled joint. My ability to roll said perfect joint is a small source of pride, especially when I was barely capable of functioning at all after a long work day. I move my fingers along the chubby little creation, rolling the paper up tight until finally, I run my tongue along the edge and smooth it with my finger. Last but not least, a quick flick of flame from my scorpio pride lighter to dry any lingering dampness, and my final task of the day is complete.

Unable to help myself, I lick the sticky resin from my fingertips, the tartness of citrus fruits, and just a hint of fresh pine coats my tongue, making my mouth water. Smoking weed is a way to allow myself the comfort of letting down the walls I’d built and just be who I am unabashedly. I am well and truly addicted to the freedom it provides, and I’m not ashamed of that fact. Cannabis has done more for my mental, emotional, and physical health than any cocktail of pills ever could. And tonight, it was going to work its magic all over again.

I place the joint between my lips and flick my bic, inhaling slowly as that familiar orange tip flares to life. I take a strong drag. Holding my breath, I close my weary eyes for the first time in nearly fourteen hours. Warm, thick, pine flavored smoke lingers in my mouth before I finally exhale a long, deep breath. I open my eyes slowly, a sense of calm already washing over me.

I take another puff, opening my mouth slightly to let a milky white stream of smoke drift out and upwards. I inhale through my nose this time, bringing the smoke into my nostrils in the classic french inhale I had learned when I was thirteen and watching the Pink Ladies from Grease. I’d thought it was the coolest trick I’d ever seen back then, and I have been french inhaling ever since. With every inhale, a layer of anxiety is peeled away, making me feel shiny and new and human once more. With every exhale of silky smooth smoke, the persistent ache in my skull seems to dwindle.

I rub my fingers vigorously against my closed eyes as my body regains all sensation I'd lost to my earlier exhaustion. My migraine is gone, and I say a silent prayer to the ganga goddess for easing my body back to life so gently. I sit back into my 70s vintage olive green armchair, and my body goes limp against its plush fabric as I let my beloved THC quiet my thoughts. A wave of euphoria dances into my heart, and my normally frantic pulse begins to slow.

I don’t have to do anything but be in this moment. My bare legs are propped onto the table, crossed at the ankles, and I shift them against one another, the action releasing all the feel-good endorphins I’ve been craving so badly into my brain. They are smooth as satin sheets, and I eventually realize I’m rubbing my legs together like some stoned cricket. My body turns to liquid, and a comforting sense of heaviness overtakes me.

I continue the ritual until the joint is nothing more than a resin soaked roach. Every time I take a drag, the slightly bitter oil soaks into my flesh, and I run my cotton tongue over my buzzing lips. I’m so fucking thirsty, a telltale sign that I am good and properly baked. A mere half hour passes and I am more and more sure that if I close my eyes, I could float out of my body entirely. How freeing would life be if we didn’t have these stupid, anxiety ridden, old age bearing bodies to contend with? The thought makes me giggle.

I’ll spend the rest of the night watching my favorite shows and laughing in my blissfully stoned reality. THIS. This is how I was meant to feel. Stress was now a distant memory. Anxiety is non-existent in my currently hazy existence. My mind is a wide open cavern, where my wildest dreams are not only valid but attainable. Every day, I am worn down to the frailest version of myself. But every night, with the help of a happy little green plant, I am reborn into the real me.

It’s now or never, and now is fleeting.

Choices made don’t have to be forever.

The swell of a heart that beats to the rhythm you created.

A gaze that urges, beckons me to fall.

The fear that falling could lead me to ruin.

Dance as we may, we know our destination.

Why shouldn’t I dare, dare to face oblivion?

You could be my abyss that consumes and destroys.

Maybe I want to burn. Maybe I want to stay.

The sweet inhale of accepting my fate,

An exhale that pushes me closer to the edge.

Right where I want to be.

Even if just for tonight, for one night only.