ONCE UPON A CREST

To Whomever it may Concern,

This letter holds the account of a story long forgotten, if not have ever been revealed. It's a story of Love. Loss. Adventure. Immortality. It's a story unlike any you've ever heard before, or ever will hear again. Believe it if you will. Perhaps you wont, ruling the story is based completely on my account, and who am I that you should believe anything I say? Let me tell you who I am. I am one who has grieved the ages. I am one who knows human nature better than the woman maliciously attacked by men. I am the one that you feel watching you, when you think are alone. I am one, that is alone, and will be, till the last dawn, and the last sunset, and I shall have the last breath. Even though that grieves me, I will laugh when the rest of you cease to exist, because I will know the truth that you spent your whole lives trying to figure out. I will die with a knowledge that you will never understand. I will have my last vision, knowing exactly what it is that haunts your dreams. What you see out of the corner of your eye, and look to find nothing. What it is that drives you on, even when there seems to be no hope. I have traveled the ages, me and my crest. The crest binds me, but I have fought it, and now I tell you this story of once upon a time. You would be wise to read it, because if you don't, the story will die, and so will I.



Jonathan looked down, from his seat on the tree stump, at the unsigned letter he held in his hands. He looked at the seal of candle wax, engraved with two long leaves that fit together like a puzzle piece. The letter had been left next to the stump, next to old brown tattered papers that had been rolled together, and tied shut with tiny vines. He stood up, and looked around at all the trees that surrounded him. This really was the most beautiful part of the forest, but he had yet to discover more.

Jonathan was a rich, 38 year old businessman from Europe. He left his country at 19 to go to America and become successful. Unlike most, he was very fortunate in his quest. He believed it was because he was very practical, and very determined. He was the kind of man that had to step on people to get to where he had come. The kind of man, that started with a dream, grew into a vision, and somewhere on his path, lost his soul.

At 33, when his life started to creep up the ladder of success, he met his future wife Vickie, his attractive assistant, with the long blond hair, and the perfect model figure. It wasn't long before their affair began, and not long at all before he took her for a bride. They didn't share much love for each other. Vickie had given up trying to make him love her long ago, but she was beautiful, and he liked showing her off.

At 38, Jonathan Statton had everything any man ever wanted. Money, fame, success, a beautiful wife, no children, and a recently bought 200 acres of woods in which a 36 bedroom mansion sat. He had bought the land for both privacy, and he had never lost his need to discover new worlds. He grew up in a place like this. As a boy, he loved the woods. Twice a week his mother had to send large company just to find him and return him home. It was a part of him that never left. And here he was, and the magic was still there. His first day exploring, and already a mysterious letter claiming to have a great story were just waiting for him. Sparks flew inside him, but he denied himself the belief of such a thing, and convinced his ego someone was playing a joke on him. But his subconscious would not let it go. So he picked up the story, sat back on his stump, and opened the roll of numerous papers.

He brushed back his full black hair, and shook of the few gray by his ears that had shed onto his hands. His large dark eyes starred hungrily at the words before him, and his large tan hands scratched his strong, unshaved chin. He took a moment to unbutton the top few buttons on his suit jacket, but his gaze instantly pried back to the endless train of letters and dust before him. Something, despite his sense of logic, hypnotized him to the paper. His heart, unnaturally desired to know its content.

He laughed, as if trying to prove to himself his better judgment, but the sound ceased within the first couple lines.

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They never expected to wake up and see their last sunrise. They didn't plan it to happen. No one does. They woke with the same feeling they had every morning. The person I love lies warm next to me, my child sleeps safe in her cradle not more than 10 feet away, and the air around me is fresh with the morning dew.

They would breath in deeply, and turn to each other, long having waited the night, for the morning to come, so they could stare into each other's eyes. His, as blue as the sky, and deep as the sea, and hers, gold like the flames that warmed the night, and calm like the sea before a storm.

There's was a special kind of love. A kind that could be broken by none but death himself.

She embraced her husband, stroking his golden face, and smoothing his long dark hair. He returned the affection to her own peach skin, kissing her rosy cheeks, and crying his happy tears into her long curly red hair, that reached her smooth hips.

If they'd had many friends, they would've told the couple they were too young to marry, but they were very much alone in the world, except for each other, and it was all they needed. He built the very house they slept in for her with his own hands, in the midst of the trees that provided strong protection, but not that day. There was something different in the air that morning, but they were too much in love to notice.

They ran through the trees, hand in hand, her carrying the baby, and him a basket with food for a sweetened lunch. They stopped every so often to steal a kiss, and this seemed to please the child, who cheered and clapped, and released a happy squeal.

They found a clearing they had never seen before. The field was long, and the trees circled around it. There was plenty of room for them to run fast, and wild, and not have to worry about scratching their perfect faces on branches. Not that they cared for beauty. They had never been around any people to learn the importance of beauty. To them, it was only them, and their child.

The little girl sat among a patch of flowers, while the two older held hands and spun in circles, until they were too dizzy, and fell on top of each other. She laughed and clapped and squealed. She ate the pink and purple flowers, and tried to grab the little lady bugs that flew around her. Her blond curly locks fell in front of her eyes, and she tried to pull them out. She lay back, and rolled around in the flowers.

Her parents stood up to run around the outer most edges of the fields. They got closer and closer, and their laughter continued to grow, when from somewhere in the trees, a silver blade flew, and struck straight into his heart, causing him to fall back. She was too stricken to scream out. She looked down at her love, who's chest had been torn open. His eyes stared wide, and he did not move.

She began to rock back and forth on her feet, not sure of what had happened, or what she should do, when a loud call like a beast sounded in the woods. It was then that she saw its face. I have said before they new nothing of appearance, but his face chilled her to her very bones. He looked half man, half wolf, half bear, and his body was covered in what looked like sap from the trees.

Her ears picked up the sound of her crying baby, and she turned and ran to the child. The creature behind her followed after, and in one scoop, she grabbed the little girl, and ran as fast as she could back into the trees. He wasn't far, but when she'd entered the woods she knew so well, he began to fall behind. She didn't fear her life, for she new it would soon come to an end, but only the life of her child.

She knew exactly where she was going, and it didn't take her long to get there. The tree had been hollowed from age and insects, and her child could hide in it perfectly. She didn't have time to kiss her, for the monster was just around a tree near by. She ran as far away as she could, leading it far from her baby, and the last thing the child heard was a scream in the distance. She fell silent. She felt alone, and scared, but by some force of nature unknown, kept silent.

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Jonathan released his attention from the story. Not exactly sure what to think. His heart had been hardened throughout his years of labor, and he still did not believe there was any truth in the story, but something kept whispering in the back of his mind. The story held some power over him.

He grabbed the documents, and headed back to his home. The house felt empty, and he wasn't sure where Vickie had gone to. He was never sure anymore. One of his maids, Freda, a midget of some sort, with black curly hair, and astoundingly big blue eyes, appeared and asked him if he had been thirsty. He waved his hand at her, and gave her his coat.

Gerald, his butler, also very short, with a thick beard, and a round belly, poked around from a corner, laughing heartily at a joke he had just heard. "The doctors coming later." He claimed, and walked back into the kitchen to converse with the cook.

Again, Jonathan was left alone, and he trudged into his study. He sat in his leather chair, and looked up at all his plaques. He had at least two awards for every year he had worked at Statton Corp. He laid the papers about his organized desk, as the adventure before him continued to unfold.