DOORS OF XMASS

"If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern." Aldous Huxley's The Doors of Perception, title from a quote in a book written by William Blake, "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell."

The snow falls in the meadow beyond the woods. The light dust is magical in the early morning twilight. I sit in my broken-down car, waiting for someone to wander by. An hour ago, I dug out the tail pipe and radiator. The rear axle thingy grinding and shaking till the wheels seized up pretty much tells the tale. It's broken for good. I have fuel, I hope for about one more hour. O' the joy of day before Christmas Eve in the mountains of Washington State.

I had to steal dad's car, the one he's been bitching about for the whole three weeks; Exiled to Forks. My frigging mother and her new husband wanted a romantic blue-sky sunshiny trip to Puerto Rico to play winter baseball. Then, drunk dad, frigging Charlie over weekend with Sylvia, the tramp waitress from the Diner. One cannot un-see one's father bare-ass humping a skank on the couch during the Seahawks highlight reel on channel 4.

The high point of my exile. Charlie is being an ass about me punching this Don Juan ass-wipe Newton or his sycophant Tyler. First week in school and I'm suspend for the next. After my girl's moment in the gym locker room, naked prep little sporty Jessica upside down; head in the toilet. Bitching I wanted ass-wipe Newton. What a loser! Middle of my third week in school and I'm allowed back to school on Jan 4; after the holiday break.

I just want to be left alone! These ass-wipe high school brats don't get it. Charlie doesn't get it: I'm a 4.0 student more in love with nature and books than boys and sex. I just want to be alone.

Drunk Sylvia barges into my room, offered me a go. EWWW! I chase her out of the house with my fish killing club; Mr. Black gave me when I was seven. Dad was out for the count on the sofa. I'll have to use two or three cans of Lysol on it; to sit there ever again.

The next morning, he asks if I'm ok with what happened. That led to the fight over everything and nothing. All my imagined offense in his police officer head. He stomps out to work pissed off. I don't know why? I don't care after he complains I should be nicer to Skank Sylvia. Since he can't have the woman he wants. I know it's not mom. I wonder who it is and why they can't be together?

I decide to take his old beat to hell car and head to the only place I have left in the world. Grandmothers house in Glenview, in the high Cascade Mountains. I should be able to make it before midnight. I take all the money I can find. It's a long ride.

Grandmother's house next to the perimeter of a big ski resort. This allows her to fleece the lonely husbands and lonely men whose families drag them there. Mom graciously calls her mother a semi-pro. I would call her a professional gold digger to her face, if I didn't need the room to hide out. I look out over the idyllic scene, losing hope.

This is supposed to be a major road to the resort. But no traffic has passed me all night into this glorious dawn. The snow has at least stopped for now. I start to fear I'm lost in the mountains. Alone, freezing to death. Another tragic tale of a hot-headed insolent virgin teenager; maybe they'll make an afterschool special about my stupidity.

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"Well, as you can plainly see, the possibilities are endless like meandering paths in a great big beautiful garden."― William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch

I snow shoe along the ridge, watching the dawn come into being. I need the exercise to release my pent-up emotions and angst; cabin fever has gripped me hard this Christmas. I crest over the ridge in the old logging tract cut. Feeling the idyllic world unfold in front of me. The snow has stopped and the glorious virgin snow covers the woods and meadows like a downy blanket. I watch the shadows retreat, leaving no traces on the white carpet. I'll slough on to the crossroads and back to the cabin. About a fifteen-mile jaunt. I'm alone this year by choice rather than punishment. I couldn't take the parents strife over my failure to fit in, be normal - what the hell that ever is or means. I can't be normal with my disease, without a soulmate.

Everyone but me has a partner. Even Alice has one since Jasper showed up last year. His path to the family was brutal leaving him very stiff and angry. The abuse scars at his stepfather hands are horrific. Emmet and Rose were a couple from before they joined the family. Both throwaways in a mental asylum; no one understood or cared about our illness. The parents hooked up after Carlie saved me from a nut house. She's a bright spot in my tormented existence, teaching me the love of books and writing.

The parents and my siblings are busting the Whistler ski slopes this morning I bet. I need to have some alone time after the disastrous last four months. Military school in Wisconsin was a bust - I'm not cut out to be a blind follower. I hated the campus, people, and the restrictions on my free time. Expulsion didn't help. Dad told me I am restarting at Forks High School after the break. The Joy of Forks; the petty bigoted locals. God help me to survive.

I want to write, a be-lost in the words, the fantasy. The words that harken a fantasy world of my mind's eye. Where I am right and true in thought and purpose. Where I get the hot girl, win the prizes, and make the world safe and sane. My teenage fantasies. But then again, I've sold a million. I'm not the only whack job in this world.

If the parents found out I have published three bestselling books on my science fiction alternate universe they would cheer till they read them. Then I'm dead meat. I based the main characters on my family. We are vampires in a future world. A world we hunt and change to suit our desires, our dreams. The publisher calls them blouse tearing softcore porn with a sci-fi theme.

I call them pent up porn for the super nerd in me. I want to be able to touch a girl, make love to her. Have her hold me when the darkness drives me down. But no girl wants a screwed-up angst ridden boy, even one who looks like an underwear model. My sister Rose teases me.

We are all adopted, all have the same genetic defect. Leaving us pale, cold, and weirdly immune to the emotions that normal people have. We seem to have only extremes. Thus, my exile to Military school after I put Newton's head into a toilet. He started the fight, over Jessica asking me to a dance. I hadn't even answered when he jumped me. Getting expelled for my fifth fight of the year. Hey two of them were with my big dumb older brother Emmet.

I walk thru a break. It should lead me to the old resort road. I can make the crossroad which should be six miles further on. I've only come about a mile from the cabin. At fifteen-year-old Dad's grandfather, won it in a poker game at the 1913 Tacoma Regatta. The two-acre plot on the side of a mountain above a flowing creek is beautiful and remote now that most of the old summer resort cabins are derelict and destroyed.

The road into the derelict resort long past gone to dirt and gravel, requires a four-wheel high clearance off road truck: In winter it's even harder to navigate. The rest are summer only with three-quarters of them for sale. I used some of my publishing money to buy up four two-acres plots along the creek. Remote, very remote. If one walks the old resort road its four miles to the cabin. Thru the logging tract it's just over a mile.

I turn the corner. Buried in the snow is an old, 'NAY,' ancient four door sedan from the 70's at least. I move closer and see a girl wrapped tight inside asleep, I hope. I dig out the door and check her vitals. They are good. One of the perks of having a father who's a doctor, I know how to check vitals. Especially with our genetic diseases we have a problem with blood, the opposite of hemophiliacs. We clot very quickly, makes blood clot thru the veins very nasty and deadly. We're all on daily blood thinners. One of the reasons in my fantasy world, I'm King Vampire. Getting more girls than Captain Kirk. Nice fantasy, the opposite of my pitiful reality.

I have no time to lose. I make a drag and get her and her bags onto it. I head up hill for the cabin. I hope the phone works. We have a T1 microwave link to the nearest town, Roslyn off of Highway 90. It powered by a windmill about the size of trolling motor. It usually works in everything except a whiteout blizzard. The phone is VOIP.

We have a shortwave radio set and satellite phone for emergencies. We have a house in Roslyn off Horvatt road. backing on to Roslyn Pioneer Park where we store the trucks to get up here. If need be, I can plow out to the main road in about four hours with one more to get into Roslyn

Pulling the drag; I slough thru the snow thinking about her face. The Virgin Madonna's plain compared to her ethereal beauty. Touching her fires my body like no girl ever has. Like we are meant to be forever. I hope the inner girl is as beautiful and fantastic as her outer shell. It's only a 1/2 mile maybe less as I crest the logging tract for the downhill to the cabin above the creek.

I see the abandoned summer resort camp. It was started back in the 1890's as a place to escape the end of the world in 1900. The camp was originally all Episcopalians. But several markers on the cabin showed a mishmash of faiths leading up to 1900. The end of the world; the second coming of the savior. I can remember Dad and Mom talking about the crazies worrying about 2000. The Y2K hysteria, must have been tame to this place's heyday.

The camp tried after the letdown to convert to a summer church camp retreat. But the remoteness and lack of amenities left it abandoned before our entry into WWI. Granddad was sure the cabin was a waste of money, till he came back from Europe scared and bitter. He spent five years hiding up here, rebuilding the cheap two-bedroom, one outhouse cabin, into a six-bedroom year-round cabin with indoor plumbing and a kitchen. The old resort had a cookhouse in the center, next to the chapel, now charred ruins. Dad said it was to make sure everyone was accounted for in the Rapture. Mom says they didn't want the cabins burned down. Several look like they did just that.

We kids played up here in the summer and winter. I can remember Emmet and me rebuilding one of the cabins as a no girls allowed clubhouse. Alice and Rose built a better clubhouse, with window glass. I can remember Dad sitting me in time out for a whole day for breaking them. Alice shouldn't have teased me.

I turn the corner of the wind break of hemlock trees almost thirty feet high. They and the lower juniper scrubs keep the winds coming off the mountain above from icing the house. Or as Mom laughs blowing the cabin into the creek. Granddad planted them the second spring up here. I always marvel at Grandad design; decades ahead of his peers. The open format and triple pane glass with storm windows make the house warm in the winter and cool in the summer. The new solar panel are still clean so we have extra power. The wood lot filled with twenty-four cords. Punishment over the summer for wrecking the car; drag racing the natives down on the reservation. They don't like us much. Money, whiteness I don't know which piss them off more. I don't care; I hate them too.

"It is a great misfortune to be alone, my friends; and it must be believed that solitude can quickly destroy reason." The Mysterious Island Author: Jules Verne Year: 1874

I get the girl into the house and up to my room. Each room has a wood fired potbelly parlor stove; for added warmth. I get my 1889 Beaver WP#25 going full blast. Turn up the heater control on the wall. The house heating can only do about seventy percent in the deep winter chill, like now.

Power is premier up here. I check the house computer display showing the propeller blade turbine generator in the creek, which always flows year-round, is going at eighty percent. A solid number for wear and tear on the generator. The house draws almost all of that for heating/cooling, lighting, and refrigerators. Solar panel drive the house electronics with the four-Power Cells on the garage wall. About 48 hours on batteries. Everything else is wood powered, from the parlor stoves to the Glenwood C kitchen wood fired stove in mom's favorite mint green.

I check her, she is still cold. I need to get her warm. I need to get her awake. I want her; to hold, skin to skin. I want to fu##k her brains out: If she'll let me. I take a step back. Am I that nuts like that lady in Misery. I look at the world before me in my mind's eye. She is everything I desire and need. And she hasn't spoken a word. 'Please god?' Looking down at her. Screwed up me: Edward Cullen. 'Let her love me.'

I need her. I strip her clothes and mine. Getting into bed, she curls into me. Making me feel things I didn't know I had. All thoughts of sex disappear in the warmth of her body. I mellow into deep peaceful sleep. First peaceful sleep in my short life. I never have peaceful sleep. My past is too haunting. Too bitter.

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"If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one."—Michelle Hodkin, The Evolution of Mara Dyer

Waking in heavenly warmth, feeling cherished and loved. Emotions I've seldom had, but always wanted. I cuddle back into a strong chest embraced in strong arms. A STRONG NAKED CHEST? HELD IN STRONG NAKED MALE ARMS! I turn to a sleeping Adonis with ruffled hair, a face that begs me to kiss it, fondle it and make him scream my name. An angel fallen to earth. I must be dead. I look from his sensual lips to piercing green eyes.

"Hi?" Squeaks out of me. I blush at my faltering courage.

"hi." He speaks in a baritone voice that does strange things to me. Tingles I've never felt before in my body. My sex wets at his gaze and voice.

"I'm Bella. You are? And why are we?" I ramble out before my mind can stop me.

"I'm Edward, Bella. You needed to get warm, its four o'clock day before Christmas eve. What are you doing for the holiday?"

"It appears I'm here, where ever this is. With you. Why what did you have in mind?"

"We are at the old Stoney Mountain resort camp on Stoney mountain in the shadow of MT. Daniel. Where were you headed?" Edward asks afraid, why is he afraid? Stroking his cheek, he melts to my touch, giving me courage to boldly go forth in what I want. Please don't send me away.

"I was headed to Cascadia resort."

"you took a wrong turn, that thirty miles south of here. Any one waiting for you?"

"NO, I was going to crash at my grandmother's place there. She may or may not be in residence. She's a bit of a skank." I blush at my words, laying here naked in his arms. Feeling his heat build, as his lower man pokes me. In a most invigorating and exciting ways. We are overheated teenagers in lust without any parental supervision to stop us. Bravery takes mind, I lower my head to suck his nipple. Naughty Bella. He tastes divine.

He moves my lips up to his. We merge into second base, hands exploring; caressing him, him me. I feel all the sensations roll and crash on us. We're rounding third base - deeper into the touching, finding things only seen in movies and sex ed classes. I'm riding a wave feelings and emotions. He's stimulating me to heavenly bliss, as the first of many orgasms takes me. I want him now and forever. This is heaven within his bed.

I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in. I want to feel him inside of me. I want to hear his breath catch as the rhythm takes us apart. I want to hear him scream my name. MY Name! As the feeling build, "BELLA!" as we slide into home plate. My first man, the first time I've made love. The emotions break my walls and makes me a slave to this man. "EDWARD!" Oblivion takes us to sleep. My last thought 'he's still inside of me.'

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I awake with the need to pee. I get out of bed and look about me. The mantel clock rings six pm. The room is colder without the warm blankets and man. "Second door on the right" I turn to his smirking glare. Piercing eyes alight with me. I blush and dash for the door.

I run into the bathroom, at least it's warm under the sunlamp. Peeing, I see the mark of womanhood. Cleaned up; seeing the dried blood on my leg, makes me realize I just slept with a man. I'm no longer a virgin, will he still want me after this is over. I let the world defocus in a replay of our lust and love. Love? Do I regret it? Hell NO! No, fantasy of how I would lose my virgin card was ever like this. More cheesy Hallmark Movie romance than this glorious reality.

"Bella you ok" I hear thru the door. I don't know how or what to say.

"Yea, kind-a. I guess?" I ramble, to my horror a naked Edward walks in, starts the shower and drags me into the hot water. Washing each other leads to more sex. I feel him pound me against the cold tiles and widow looking out into the fresh nocturnal snow storm. I release as we drift into a pile in the bottom of the tub. Encased and held lovingly in his warmth. I kiss him as we recover our strength.

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"True happiness is… to enjoy the present without anxious dependence on the future." Seneca (circa 4 BCE—65 AD)

With Edward's help, I get the wood stove going. There was a roast in the frig waiting to go with instructions. I look at him, raised eyebrow.

"MOM packed that before I left three days ago."

"She loved you. Why the diet of stew and chile cans?"

"I'm not very good at cooking, kind of suck at it. I always burn everything. Even the chile. See the pans?" Edward looking out the window as he confesses his domesticated shortfall. I rise on tip toes to kiss his ear. Drawing him into my arms. I feel the wanton femme fatal in his shirt with his sister's long john pants.

"We have an hour before the roast is ready. I set the timer. What to do with the down time?"

He hoists me up and carries me to the large living room, fires up the TV. Handing me the control, pointing out how the movie files are set up on the hard drives. I chose an old favorite, very apropos to our current situation. Trapped in Paradise (1994) is the movie for us.

Later as witches spring into the air in delight for their namesake hour. The stars shine thru the upper windows in the great room. The fire is still bright and playful on a large yule log. Light plays stories about the walls and shadows. The night outside hides the world. Just us alone, here, and now. I long to taste the sweetness of his lips and delight in the pleasures of his body. But too tired to do anything but just sit here entwined in strong arms. Music plays some Clare de Lune teases my mind. As we drift into peaceful slumber.

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Dawn Christmas eve:

"Fine old Christmas, with the snowy hair and ruddy face, had done his duty that year in the noblest fashion, and had set off his rich gifts of warmth and color with all the heightening contrast of frost and snow": The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot

Wakening in my room, with this woman in my arms. I slowly touch her skin. Feather touch along her shoulder and thigh. Watching the goosebumps rise. The blood pinken marks my trace. I must get up and chores done. Or we will freeze. When did we move from the great room to here last night? I don't remember. Wild things she does to me.

Donning clothes I head out to refill the various room wood shuttles. Shift the ash out and relight the kitchen stove. I dig out the patio deck and paths to the wood pile and the garage. I'm hungry for food and Bella.

I watch as she dances around the kitchen. Pancakes and sausage waffle thru the air. Coffee steams from my cup. I watch this goddess in my socks and my flannel shirt. Music blasts from the speaker, oldies of the 90's. I dance up and startle her. Kissing her neck. Lips. Making her whimper in need for my love. LOVE?

I look into her eyes and know the answer to the question haunting me. I let the world go and just give her everything I am and will ever be in her eyes. I let the sun into my bitter heart and feel it rise and lift us to peaceful glens with children playing about us. I see the future in her eyes, alighted with me; the true me.

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Later Christmas eve.

"Make the best use of what's in your power and take the rest as it happens." Epictetus (circa 55—135 AD)

We sled, build snowmen, and make snow angels in the white powder of winter. I let him ravage me in the snow. I scream his name into the woods as we explode in the orgasms. This is the world as it should be. Tomorrow I don't care whatever comes. Today is what we have and we will live it to the fullest.

Before going inside to hot drinks and warm cuddles, we decorate the Edward family Christmas tree which alive; in the corner of the raised patio deck. His father planted it twenty years ago when original one died from a lightning strike. The evergreen is regal and loved. The sitting box hold the outside decoration, suited to the wind and temperature.

Later inside we will decorate - a fake evergreen garland over the window with the family's delicate ornaments. Edwards grandfather didn't believe in killing a tree for vanity. So; the outside tree is the main Christmas tree. I feel Edwards heart as he watches the finished tree; a touchstone to his family and past. Even if he's adopted, this is his families place in the world. Living in harmony with nature and the world.

I shiver at my families spiked eggnog, and tinfoil paper towel tree. Mom's avarices buy me list or Dad's I don't need anything, but this would be nice. My family as some serious bullshit excuses for holiday's. I feel Edwards arms embrace me; pulling me from the self-loathing the family breeds in me during these days.

Near noon we retire to the couch in the great room, watch Christmas cartoons, goofing and making love. I put a healthier stew together than Edwards canned stew. We have a small turkey loaf from the freezer cooking with most of the sides. Took me about an hour to get it all going. Might have been faster without Edwards domestic incompetence or his wicked hands and lips. I bite his nipple, letting him know my displeasure at his teasing the chef.

We talk a little about family, not getting into specifics. Time for that after the holiday, when we must return to reality and parental demands. I giggle as shirtless Edward rushes to get logs on the fire, while naked me taunts him. He jumps on the coffee table and gives me a private X-rated Chippendale show.

I stand and take him in my mouth as we crash into the sofa. Arms and legs in passionate sex. Mellow eating a late lunch. Dinner is set for about seven pm.

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Edward-pov

I check the house before dinner, nearing seven. Everything is set for the night. The winds are dying to a whisper. The snow is softly falling in clear flakes in the tree lights. Softly Classical Piano Music for the Christmas Season Selected Works by 20 Composers. Carl Reinecke's The Christmas Sonatina [Op. 251, No. 3] is almost over next should be Franz Liszt's Christmas Song. I hum the tune, fantasizing the finger movements on the piano in the great room.

I check the server: Kyle from Roslyn Automotive and Towing left a message: a WHP plane spotted a car near me; about noon. He plowed out to it when I didn't answer, found my note in Bella car. I quickly call him letting him know we are safe and here. He tells me the car's rear differential is toast. I tell him to replace it on my account. He tells me should be ready around December 28. I thank him. He'll call the Police. I let the mood return to me. Dancing into the kitchen to eat. Sexy Bella in long johns and topless with an apron, hardens me. I forget the car, food as we make the counter hot in our bodies heat.

Laying before the great room fireplace, watching the shooting stars thru the windows, speckling colored Christmas lights reflect in the glass. Soft shadow play about the room. I feel the world in my arms, my Christmas present Bella. My Bella, how will I ever let you go. How will I find you again? Will you still love me?

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Dec 28: Roslyn

I kiss my girl goodbye. We part without knowing if we will ever see each other ever again. We never broke the mood with last names or addresses. I stand frozen, a stone as she drives away to her grandmothers. I have to hop a flight to Boston. The Family has summoned me. Dad had to cut the holiday short for a rare surgery he pioneered. The ten-year old kid is desperate for a chance to live and only my father can give it to her.

I watch the grey below me wondering if Bella see me up here; life sucks.

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Jan 3 Forks high school. Bella-pov

I miss Edward, I miss the isolation we had in the mountains. Those idyllic snow peaks. Charlie was ballistic about the car, and me driving to Grandma's; who is in a rare moment was between sugar daddies and toys. To listen to my woes. Still sent me back to Forks, but at least I know now what love is, and how much I will reclaim my man.

I watch Newton and his posse scurry away from me. I bare my teeth and growled at them, pussies. I head into my first class of the day home room and calculus. The joy and burden of having a mind and thinking. I sit in the back at what was the only empty table. Bury my head in a tome of ancient lore- the latest Sci-Fi novel by Thomas Collins Esq... I find the sci-fi vampire tales my favorite, relaxing as I can now imagine Edward as King Vampire Christian de Greystone. Sexy! Sexy pantie melting Edward. I dream he just walked into my class in rains, snowy Fork, Washington.

I shake myself as I rise from my seat. "Edward!"

"Bella!" he whispers like he thinks I'm a ghost. I just forget myself and the world. My man is here in front of me. I jump into his arms, his books clatter to the floor. We kiss like the world has ended.

CULLEN! SWAN! STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!"

I look into his eyes. "Hi, I'm Edward Cullen. Your boyfriend?"

I kiss him. "Bella Swan, your fiancée!"

He laughs kissing me "Yes. My fiancée and happily forever." We sit he looks at my e-book, leaning in to lick my ear. "I'm the author."

"really?"

"Yes, I am."

"Cool I wouldn't tell your family. I always thought Alice and Rose were perfect for the demented vampire sister."

"yea, I kind of typecast the people I know."

"OH! SHIT! My dad Chief Swan is Vampire Henchman Wash. You'll have to ask him for my hand."

"After losing you; nothing is hard anymore."

"Yea, everything is easier from now on."

"hush my Christmas present, school then home to my room. My bed."

"Dream on Edward. My house and my room." We dream of the snow-covered meadow and flowing creek. The Christmas in the mountains.