next to a gutter

a liquid rainbow waltzes

till one raindrop falls

from a ragged golden leaf,

disturbing the short-lived peace.

-Paul

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synopsis of the

Some marriages don't work out for unknown reasons. Sometimes for meaningless and pathetic mantras. Others, as it is in this case, for death.

Charlie was not what you would call an unexpected death; he was roughly 70 years old, and didn't look a year less. A man, so robust that doors squeaked when he passed by but with an undeniably big dusty heart, never been used before. Yes, he tried: he tried so hard to ignore the young woman kneeling by his polished shoes that scratched and marked for him to take that little bundle of life. Charlie couldn't deny; he couldn't deny taking one.

So he took two; two beautiful Eve's from their broken garden of promises.

In that time, Renee was only 16 years old, with this withering essence of death that nagged in her ruby brown eyes, if there ever was such a thing. But old Charlie saw them that way. He could see things away with the 38 years in between the two humans. Every note gone from couch and milk, every wrinkle and perspiration, to the love he and only him felt. Renee never actually saw the absurdity that was going before her eyes and, as a young fool, she only thought of the bundle, her Bella.

When in days Charlie would talk to her, she never responded with the word love; she had this crystal in her that was never functioning—her heart, filled with steam that was recovered from the sex of her past. Renee never loved, not Charlie, not any man. Only her child, little Eve that would also one day sin.

Charlie was a man of evident dignity; he wished for a cremation, not wanting to be seen as the old man he was. He never enjoyed the stares of scandal as to being seen with the young woman that was Renee, but he always carried her and little Bella with pride, raising the little child as his own and seeing her grow fully into what he described as 'a siren of the night'. For she always stayed up late reading novels they both enjoyed and counting worthless fake money that they would use to buy wings to fly to the moon, their dream was kept alive.

Reason number one for the tear that shed from the eyes of little 13-year-old Bella.

Still, not one from Renee.

In the nights, she was grateful Bella and Charlie stayed occupied with themselves and their reading. There was a time before those were it was filled of sweat and moans from both, yes, from one, not. Renee tried to enjoy herself the most that she could, but sexuality was beyond the veins that were also not hers.

The reason why she was pregnant in the first place wasn't one of foolish behavior: it was one of pure desperation and confusion by her bare. She tried to take this personal test when she was young, a physical test of want.

To be with a woman.

This she enjoyed a little too much. She was devastated and, in search of what was called right, she went and made another human being, not out of a mistake. With a man. A boy.

And until this day her heart belongs to those who are called Adam's and her body to those called Eve's. With an utter respect to her daughter, she, who shall not be touched by her.

Reason number one for the tear that dropped from Renee's ruby.

As Charlie burned she couldn't help to think he was a faithful man to thee.

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When years pass, in this case three, widows are allowed in an indirect way by society to move on to another man or out of grief. Renee did neither; she moved on to a boy. A handsome one, with money and need for a woman who could do such things as he required. Renee had no obligation to do this; her little child was already 16, and she was a somewhat old piece of apple.

But as she descended down the carpet less hallway she didn't mind that this was an elope to a man and a boy.

Sign, Renee.

Sign, Edward.

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A Prologue.