The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

-Dust of Snow, Robert Frost.


Moonstruck toxin

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful girl, an ever so, delightfully contentious girl. Her mornings consisted of a mixture of loathsome screaming and shattering glass. Countless would say this girl had it all; a trust fund, setting her and her grandchildren for life, along with the perfect mixture of beauty and brains.

'This girl, she's everyone's dream, but things aren't always what they seem.'

She loved to live in the world of fantasy, starting her tales with the fabled "once upon a time" Because starting with that meant there would always be a "happily ever after" to follow. But her life was no fantasy, this was real life. And in real life, "happily ever after"s were nonexistent.

Real life ended with the dark figure cloaked in black, holding a sharp, pointy staff.

Part One.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of the roast-chestnut brunette's sleeping mouth, the dream she had developed was proving to be a good one. Few things could make the golden-honey-eyed girl smile, especially during this, a parlous morning. A loud crash, a single bone china plate smashing into a million diminutive pieces, awoke the girl from her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open followed by a sigh, and the sound of another flimsy piece of crockery shattering against the exorbitantly expensive wallpaper that lined the walls of the downstairs dining room.

Massie's gentle features hardened as she rose. Her lips now formed a line so tight you would think her previous smile had been a part of the very dream that had brought it into existence. She glanced sideways at the bedside digital clock; the time read 5:30am. On a Sunday morning. Her cold eyes clenched in disapprobation. That was a new record. She exhaled, pulling off the rose silk robe she had donned for warmth some time during the night. Pinching a hair elastic off her thin wrist, she pulled her messy ringlets into a ballerina bun at the top of her head.

Grabbing an oversized velour Juicy jumper off the white rug next on the floor to her bed, she shrugged it on above the satin singlet and boy shorts she had slept in as she slid her already-socked feet into purple adidas cross-trainers. She jolted at the sound of another smash, and hurried along with her morning routine. She hastily padded across her room and jerked the middling window open. She slid expertly to the ground below her second-floor bedroom with the aid of a ladder her mother had given her father for his thirty-seventh birthday, her sneakers crunching on the gravel, and her breath fogging in front of her face. Kendra claimed it as a useful gift, as it would help William's vertically challenged predicament. He had accepted it with a fake smile, for her sake. But she had known the full extent of his hatred of the gift after he stormed out of the house and threw it into the yard, one end landing in the duck pond and almost squashing an indignant-looking mallard. The dark pond still reflected the fading moonlight in its waters at this time of the morning. Massie closed her eyes. The calm water could not distract her from the constant unrest on the other side of the walls.

She was not afraid of being out in the dark by herself with no one knowing where she was. At a young age, Massie had taught herself that stupid fears like spiders and the dark were useless. Now the only thing she truly feared was people.

Reaching down, she plucked two pieces of gravel from the driveway, one for each of her parents, and tossed them into the water, not stopping to watch the ripples ruin the rest of the pond as well. She subsequently broke into a run, opening the gate and making her way onto the familiar trail.

Reaching into her pockets she pulled out the iconic white headphones and activated her customary playlist. The sound of electric guitars and heavy vocals filled her ears and she erupted into a grateful sigh.

She jogged at an exceedingly slow pace for the first ten minutes, the darkness of night still coloring her surroundings. The solitary lamppost's annular glow was the only indication of light among the willowing trees.

As the sound of fast-paced punk-rock filled her ears, Massie propelled herself into a sprint. She pushed herself as fast as her toned legs could take her, her breathing becoming ragged and irregular. She could feel a stich coming on, but she continued at the heavy pace, pushing herself harder. She could no longer hear the music blazing in her ears, the only sound being the erratic thumping of her heart, and the coughing fit she had suddenly broken out into.

The next thing Massie knew was the transpiring of utter darkness.

Massie jerked upward, but lay back down when she felt her head pounding. Her eyes scanned the significantly more illuminated area, and she found herself lying on a wooden bench in a place looking like Westchester Park. Ignoring all immense signs of pain, she pulled herself upright, feeling the weight of her fatigue as she stood, fighting to keep her balance.

She racked her brain for an explanation, but all she could recall was running, and then the sudden loss of breath. The park was empty, just trees, grass, the drinking fountain and a clueless girl, miles away from home.

She checked both her pockets for her phone, for her fingers to be met with only emptiness and inner stitching.

She swore out loud and sat, dumbfounded, on the park bench again. She blinked repeatedly to clear her head, hoping that in the short milliseconds her eyes shut, she would find recognition.

Monday rolled around, and Massie was still without her beautifully crafted, Swarovski crystallized iPhone. Without her phone, she wondered how she had even managed to make it to second period with ten minutes to spare. School, was school, the place with a million different faces, in none of which she found recognition. They graced her with meaningless greetings which she cheerily returned, but she knew that even as they asked her how her weekend had been, or invited her to a party, that they were not, and never would be, real friends.

She returned home Monday afternoon carrying an empty book bag, almost happy for the lack of homework, to find an empty house. At this, she breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to her room with a slight smile on her face. Happy, finally, for the few hours of peace.

The week flew by. Well, not really.

But she somehow she knew she would continue to put up with week after week of false niceties until that fateful day. The day she would receive her diploma; finally kissing high school, and all its bitches, goodbye.

It was Saturday; she awoke a tad later this time, at an hour in which the sun had already risen. It was almost eight. Massie proceeded to go about business as usual despite the quiet house, and jogged comfortably along the trail for the first half-hour. She sped up to a run next, pacing herself this time, not wanting a repeat of last week's memory loss fiasco. Her new and improved phone would not be arriving for another fortnight. She had run over two miles when she began to realize that she had neared Westchester Park. For an odd reason, she felt compelled to go there. It was around nine, judging by the position of the sun, as she arrived. She had passed a few couples running together, along with other nameless people walking their pets. She paused momentarily, catching her breath, and glanced over at the bench where she had awoken in daze last Sunday. Her gaze was drawn back when she found a lone man sitting in the middle, his fingers carelessly tossing something purple between them.

Massie stepped slowly toward him, the man not even glancing away from the item between his fingers until she was approximately two feet away. When he did, his face contoured into an amused smirk, his slightly shaggy blue-black tresses falling into his vibrant ultramarine and dazzling emerald eyes. Massie's amber irises momentarily widened at the sight of such magnificent raw beauty, such as she had only ever imagined in her many writings and dreams.

Before she knew it, a smile involuntarily tugged at her lips, following by a soft flushing of her cheeks. That was until she observed the mysterious item he held between his long piano fingers; a sparkling purple iPhone.

Massie's mouth opened slightly, and the man's smirk grew even larger. He then stood, towering over her by at least a foot. "Took you long enough!" He laughed, his bizarre multi-colored eyes twinkling with mischief.