I know you haven’t met Verٌónika.

Verónika became a pair of socks some time ago.

The two now make a living dispelling rumors on pages.

They wanted to be gloves, but we both realized

they could never handle that.

Turns out very few prophecies can be avoided

after losing that many bones.

The stars on the ocean theorize they are secretly gods

who will cover the world in clouds again, but

the truth is quite the opposite.

The last god left was a fly and

it suffocated inside of the left one. And the other one was an accomplice.

When I see the left one, I feel fear.

When I see the right one, I feel disgust.

If you have two eyes, you might only see one.

Verónika is an autostereogram puzzle, y’know.

Verónika has no missing pieces.

Yes, they’re supposed to be like that.

It becomes more obvious when you put

them in front of green lightning bugs.

Maybe that’s where the mud came from.  

We thought it might’ve been from a field trip back

in their hometown of Manatí, but

after it became a parking lot the case went cold. The next step will probably be

flooding it again. Then it only will be accessible

through trained mermaids. They were fans of Verónika, back in the day, but of course

those sea cows didn’t know her at all, as her

enemy Paola could tell you.

Verónika has never been the subject of rumors.

First: Think about it

Then: Stop

Then: Tape a calendar to the wall

Then: Forget to close a window

Then: Be scared of a bug

Then: Watch your step

Then: Encounter a child

Then: Solve an easy riddle

Then: Miscalculate a time for departure

Then: Spell something correctly

Then: Have it autocorrected anyway

Then: Choke on your own saliva

Then: Have a realization

Then: Forget it soon after

Then: Be reluctant

Then: Tend a wound by yourself

Clk!-Ckrrckrrckrrckrk grrp

I say.

Clk!-crkckrrckrrkI grrp

I say once more.

Clk!-Ckrrckrrckrrckrk grrp

I say it over and over until I’m sure I won’t say rrnnrrnrn.

If you listen closer you also hear me say

Fffffff…(and then) hhhhhh…

Fffffff…(and afterwards) hhhhhh…

Fffffff…(and sooner or later, if nothing else interferes or delays) hhhhhhh…

And if I’m lucky, somewhere deep inside I am saying

b-bp b-bp b-bp b-bp b-bp.

But if I’m not lucky, I might be saying

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

I knew the time was coming for the final draft for the story when the side characters started getting names. The chaos of the first draft was long gone from the bulletin board I was using to brainstorm, plan out, and the story overall. It was now much more organized; I had even chosen what language to write it in.

Grá was desperate. The sickness that had spread through the village was worsening daily. The rumors of it being a curse turned into a conspiracy; and surely, if it was a curse then as the only witch in town, she must have been the one responsible. It did not help that the witch could not cure it. Any potions or magical spells she attempted only worsened the condition of the afflicted, as did their wariness towards her. “Must be a trick from the witch”, the people speculated. As time went on, Grá had very few options left; It would not be long before a mob was formed.

 “Canerae! Rae! Stop! You win, he yielded!” Small as she was the blonde elf had managed to tackle her brother to the ground while her a mother yelled, a wooden training sword held to his throat. Zaeas never could take losing to his younger sister well and Canerae reasoned it must have been why he kept asking to spar. 

“He always starts it, Minn’da!” She dropped the blade and walked away with a pout, knowing it was only one of the many times this would happen. One of many truths her brother would never be able to accept. 

                                                     —–

  That very same piece of wood turned up in the huntress’ home, splintered in two, reminding her of a simpler time, a world in which she never would have had to hide, to conceal anger, or love for the sake of safety and peace.

“Oh come on, you’re not even trying!” You laughed, hands on your hips. It was a beautiful day in your home town, which was rare, hence why you’d decided to suggest going for a run to your only too compliant boyfriend. It sounded great in theory, a little more exercise here and there never hurt. Except for the fact that you hated running and got bored after 15 minutes, deciding you guy’s could get in your exercise through boxing instead. He’d always boasted about how good he’d gotten with his trainer, and now you wanted him to teach you.

“I just don’t want to hurt you!” He laughed back, eyes clouded with adoration at the scrappy girl stood before him with her fists up far too high to serve their purpose in what he assumed you were to hoping be a block. You were both stood in the middle of the park, sun beaming down on you both as he momentarily zoned out and tried to figure out how the fuck he’d managed to land you. Gaze lingering on you as you bounced about from foot to foot, trying your best to taunt him into engaging with you, completely clueless as to why you’d picked him out of all people, but more than thankful that you had.

“Jesus Christ, Calum, give me some credit. I’m not made of glass.” You sighed, head shaking fondly.

“To me you may as well be” he muttered, arms still crossed as he watched you chuck out several good punches. “I’m not going to hit you!”

“I don’t want you to! Just jab, just pretend ones, please?” You sang, halting your movements with another heavy sigh.

“Not a chance” he sang back, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Fine, I’ll just hit you then.” You huffed, stepping one foot forward as you began hitting him with a featherlight touch, sharing the same sentiment of never wanting to hurt him. You stood by your statement that you could handle yourself, growing up with a brother you were no stranger to both defending yourself and inflicting pain during sibling bickering. And you knew he’d never hurt you but, of course, he wasn’t willing to try because of what if’s. And you appreciated it, not really being that bothered that he wouldn’t teach you what he knew as you found your new game much more fun.

Skipping around you overplayed your moves, you practically danced around him pretending to have a set rhythm as you barely brushed your fists against him but acted as if every blow you were delivering was the one that got you the victory.

He tried to keep an unimpressed face for as long as he could, tried to pretend to anyone that may have passed by that was just as aware how silly his girlfriend looked as they were, keeping up the act that he wasn’t amused in the slightest, resisting the overwhelming urge to join in your fun. But it proved impossible, first and foremost because you were keeping your touches so gentle they were quite literally tickling him, not only breaking his facade but completely smashing through it as he erupted in a flurry of giddy laughter. Further, you looked too damn adorable as you played, your ponytail swinging around with your efforts, your shapely legs looking far too good in your running leggings for him to manage keeping a straight face for more than a minute.

“Okay, you want me to fight back?” He laughed, torso swaying to and fro as he began to humour you and try to dodge your hits.

“Yes!” You cheered enthusiastically. “Are you sure?” He smirked, eyes pinned to you despite your sporadic movements. “Oh my god, yes.” You groaned through your chuckle, still throwing out weak hits.

“Alright, you asked for it.” He sighed cockily, hands flat out as he shrugged, mirroring your stance. But he was far quicker than you, grabbing your hand as it jabbed out and pulling you to him with a surprised squeal from you. It was over pretty quickly, barely registering the swift peck to your lips before he leaned down, throwing you over his shoulder with no trouble at all.

“No!” You wailed petulantly breath short due to trying to speak through your laughter. “Calum, this is cheating. Boxers don’t do this!”

You stood alone at the raised table, fingers clutched tightly around the large glass of wine you’d gotten from the bar a few moments prior, eyes flitting from person to person as you watched them dance. It was your auntie’s 50th birthday and much like yourself she took any excuse to party. However you weren’t much in the party mood. It seemed as if everyone here was coupled up, even your parents were living it up on the dance floor as you stayed on the outskirts, making do with keeping yourself company with several glasses of rosé.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were avoiding me.” You recognised the voice without even having to turn around, the signature tones of it etched into your memory forever. Turning slightly, your lips stretched into a smile at the sight of him, the boyish charm still ever present in his features.

“Calum.” Your eyebrows rose in surprise that he was actually there in the flesh. His family with friends with yours, finding yourselves at the same parties and dinners throughout the years. Both being similar ages and about the only young ones at such events you had gravitated towards each other when you were kids, situating yourselves at the far end of the table from the adults as you giggled and joked over whatever kids do, having your own fun. This tradition carried on straight throughout most of your life. His family lived on the other side of town, not too far a stretch but still you found yourselves waiting only for the inevitable birthday or anniversary celebration to bring you both back together. As you’d both grown older, maturing into young adults and with the aid of the odd alcoholic drink sneaked to you by family members, you began to appreciate him as more than just the kid you hung out with at family gatherings. Your heart sped up a little faster at the sight of him, his presence as he sat next to you now far more overbearing, the touch of his skin against yours now evoking tingles throughout your entire being. And the feelings were reciprocated on his end too. He no longer saw you as just the girl he knew through family connections. You were the cute girl he knew through family connections. The girl that made him actually care about how he dressed for these things, the one that made his mouth go dry as you approached him with arms open wide for a hug when you greeted him, the one person he could never have wrapped in his arms for long enough.

Fate stepped in, or whatever higher power you chose to blame, and at some party that you couldn’t recall too well one of you - another detail you both fiercely disagreed on - finally grew a pair and crossed the line. It wasn’t glamorous, as not many kisses in early teenage years are, as you both stood outside the hall in which the party continued to rage on - as much as a group of middle ages family members could rage - oblivious to you both as keen hands grabbed at each other, lips moved eagerly against each other.

And so it continued, greeting each other as normal in front of family members knowing you’d never live it down from each respective side if you got caught and neither of you wishing to put yourselves through the inevitable interrogation. Evidently, your loved ones had seen it coming far before you two, calling it on only your second or third time meeting. It became something of an inside joke or game between you both to see how long you could go before finding an excuse to duck out for a while, competing to use the most inventive reason for leaving. Most times the doors had barely closed behind you before one was pulling the other into them, hearts pounding with desire.

It was clear that what was happening had been going on for far longer than necessary if it were nothing but harmless fun, but both camps were terrified of pushing for something more, scared that the other would shoot them down - not only ensuing an awkward night but ruining the relationship even in its most basic form of friendship for good. But as it turned out, it didn’t take loose lips and Dutch courage to achieve that. All it took was Calum turning up to your Dad’s New Years Eve party last year with his new girlfriend.

You’d stayed still as you hung in the doorway to the kitchen as you watched him move through everyone, surviving kiss on the cheek after kiss on the cheek from your many aunt’s - always welcomed as one of their own - working the room as he introduced her to everyone. It had hurt, more than any scrape on your knee or stubbed toe, but what hurt more was that he had the audacity to avoid you. Which you weren’t going to let happen. You knew he and you were nothing official, technically, and this was new territory for you both but you deserved more than this and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to make it right yourself. So you’d weaved through the clusters of drunken adults, dodging invitations to dance and calls for you to join your cousins for shots as you made your way to where he stood grabbing a drink from your dining room table. “Wow, I didn’t even see you come in.” You’d stayed loudly from behind him, painfully bright smile painted on your face.

His eyes were blown out with an emotion you couldn’t quite read, flicking his vision between you and his girlfriend who had also turned at your abrupt introduction clearly worried as to what was to follow. You’d assumed he hadn’t wanted you to let her know your history, when in reality he was terrified at the prospect that this could end in him losing you, knowing it was a shitty move to not have told you. In fact, if he dug a little deeper he knew it was a shifty move not to have just manned-up and ask you out a long time ago. You held a place in his heart that no one could take but the previously mentioned fears had paralysed him, fooling him into the belief that maybe another girl, maybe the one he had with him, could dull the lonely ache in his chest. But you’d acted civil, seeing no reason not to, introducing yourself to her followed by an obligatory compliment on her dress and finishing up by answering her enquiries regarding how you knew her boyfriend with a neutral ‘ah, our families are close friends so occasionally we’ll find ourselves overlapping’ before making a swift exit to find the bottle of vodka you’d hidden for yourself under the sink.

Which had been the last time you’d talked to him properly, both resorting to mere waves across tables whenever such overlapping of lives occured, even long after him and that girl were over. Until tonight that is, tonight was breaking the relatively newfound protocol.

“I had no idea you were coming.” You spoke, eyes still nervously taking him in never having been within 5 feet of him for a long time, raising the wine glass to your lips for a healthy sip.

“What, and miss a chance to have your Mum and Aunts tell me not only how cute I used to be but how ruggedly handsome I’ve become? No way, my ego thrives on these gatherings” he smirked, tight lipped until your loud laughter tumbled from your lips - which he was having to manually stop himself from staring at - joining you in the joyful sound.

As much as you hated it, in that moment it felt like nothing had changed. Yet you hated it so much because the nostalgic feeling was short lived, the silence that followed it reminding you that you were more or less nothing to him now. Despite the fact that he saw you, still, as the complete opposite. Especially as you stood before him, every bit as gorgeous as the last time he’d laid eyes on you, still mentally beating himself up for being the reason you always made sure to be stationed on the opposite side of any room to him. Which reminded him why he’d risked life and limb by coming over to you in the first place. “Do you wanna find somewhere to hide away, like we used to?” He blurted out, your wide eyes and dropped jaw pushing him to elaborate. “Just to talk!”

Your features softened, feeling a bittersweet wave of hope flowing through you. But you were determined not to be hurt again, not wanting to ruin the previous moment of happiness by putting more of an award strain on your already withered relationship with him. “I can’t I promised everyone I’d look after their bags.” It was a weak excuse, but you were rolling with it all the same.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Throwing all caution to the wind he swallowed his pride, valuing it far less than he did you, words drenched in remorse and regret. Your head tilted as you started at him, letting his words set in as you felt a familiar lump in your throat, a pinching at the back of your eyes at how sincere his statement was.

“You didn’t.” You shrugged limply, lips just managing to twitch up as you tried to offer him a smile of reassurance, feeling guilty for making him feel bad. Evidently it didn’t work, him shooting you a tell-tale look of utter disbelief. “It doesn’t matter.” Your head shook with more force than the last time, hoping he’d just drop it because you’d sure fought hard enough to, eyes shifting back to the dancefloor so as not to be worn down by how seemingly honest he was being.

“Yes it does!” He urged, stepping forward to lay a hand on your hip, bringing your attention swift back to him. “I don’t like the idea of anyone hurting you, even now as we communicate purely through half hearted hand gestures, I’ll never be okay with that. So you can imagine how torn up I am that I’m the one who hurt you. But what trumps that completely is that I miss you. A lot.” His tone was pleading, eyes begging you but for what you weren’t exactly sure and that had your blood pressure through the roof, breath ragged with nerves.

“You just miss having someone to make out with when the party gets boring.” you laughed uneasily, not unaware of how close he was getting to you.

“I miss making out with you, yes. But it’s much more than that and you know it. I know it’s been a while but I’ve been dying for someone in this stupid family to get married or christen their kid or buy a new house to throw a house warming party in, Jesus anything so I could hope to get even two seconds alone with you to tell you how sorry I am. How stupid I was to even try to fill the space not having you had created.” You swallowed thickly as words fell from his mouth at an unstoppable pace but you kept up with every syllable, hanging off of his every word as you felt your resolve depleting, no longer fighting against the current as you found yourself more and more willing to be swept up in him. Feelings you’d filed away before the bells had chimed that night flying from their confines.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” You breathed, not needing to be any louder as just inches separated you both, the party going on around you all but forgotten.

“I want you.” He was sure of himself now, fighting with everything in him not to close the space between you himself, determined to do this right this time. “All of you, in every sense of the word. Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll take whatever I can get at this point so long as–” Having heard enough you decided to follow your heart as your hands grasped at the material of his shirt pulling him in impossibly closer to you as your lips moulded against his, not realising you’d missed the feel of him as much as you had until then.