As some of you may know, I had begun working on a, well, for lack of better term, novel titled Barely Human.  Yeah, I know, the title is kinda sucky, but that's what I got for now.  I've kinda given up on it because it's very generic and has a pretty stupid plot overall.  Seeing as I don't write stories very much, this is the most I've accomplished with anything of the sort, but I really don't want to stop and just scrap the whole idea.

I'll post what I have of the story below.  Please, please, PLEASE feel free to critique the hell out of it, bash it, do whatever (so long as it is constructive and can help me write better).  I intend on having two separate parts (one from Lily's perspective, and another from Cowen's perspective) within the novel--like each chapter will recap itself from a different angle, perhaps.  I dunno . . . for your reading pleasure, here's my, uh . . . masterpiece (I guess).

______________________________________________________________________________________

Prologue

 

“Please, sir. Please don’t ask me to give these away,” I begged. He was asking me to give up a part of me, something that I don’t think I could ever live without. The man looked at me with uncaring, angry black eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lily, but this is the way it has to be. These were a privilege, not a right, and you broke the rules. I’m just following the rules that I have to obey—please give me your hand.” As I hesitantly swung forward my left arm, I could instantly feel my body being drained of any energy it had left. The colors throughout the wide, ballroom-like office began to fade and slowly turn from black to white. It was then that I knew I was going to die.

 

********************

 

Life is Changing

I woke up to a layer of fog and frost coating the grass outside of my window. “Ugh, I don’t want to go to work,” I whined under my breath as I saw the state of the weather just beyond my dark purple curtains. Throwing the blankets back over my head, it was apparent that the chill of autumn had finally broken through the final remains of summer. It was already mid-October, but the change seemed quite abrupt—although it’s not like the seasons defining the Midwest are very subtle. Finally, I slumped out from under the blankets, shivering at the change in temperature. Immediately I contemplated jumping back into bed and calling in sick, but I was quite sure my mom would come upstairs soon, checking to see if I had left yet.

That was the thing about my mom. She was very overprotective, and always wanted to know where I was going and what I was doing, even though I had never been much of a party animal or a huge dater. I don’t remember my father very well, but I assume that I had taken after him; quite, pale with dark hair, and very artistically inclined. Mom is often upset with me; probably because I resemble my dad so much. I suppose I don’t blame her for being bitter, especially because (from stories that I’ve been told) he left in the middle of the night the day before my mom found out she was pregnant.

Hearing the gurgle of the coffee pot was the definite sign that I should get up and get moving. I scrambled out of bed to put on my robe, then stood in front of my closet and began debating on what to wear to work. Finally, I chose my favorite teal long sleeved tee-shirt, which was undoubtedly going to be my first choice anyways.   Hoping that my mom didn’t barge in on me, I could tell that my thoughts were going to be relatively depressing today.  I’ve always tried to think open-mindedly about the weather, seeing as this was the same pattern that it followed every year in Ohio, and has for the nineteen years I’ve been alive.

With the weather on my mind, I sulked off to work as the cold wind whipped around my car. I work at the local Fairport Harbor craft store on the weekends in hopes of keeping myself busy between school days. Usually during the week, after studying for my respective classes, I frequently go down to Lake Erie, taking pictures compulsively—usually of anything that looked strange or out of place to me. When I finally arrive at work, I put on my ugly red smock and went to stand behind my assigned cash register.  I was now ready to take on my mindless job of scanning purchases, hopefully making a good impression on the customers.

Apparently, I do pretty well most days.  I can remember a few weeks back; there was a boy that looked not too much older than I who would stick around the store from the beginning of my shift until close.  He never left except to go outside for a few minutes, and then he proceeded to come back inside like he had never left.  In fact, I don’t recall hearing the bell on the door when he would leave.  He didn’t speak with anyone, not that I could tell, and he stood on the far side of the store; farthest away from my register.  It seemed as though he was watching . . . admiring me, almost.  He seemed very strange to me.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t ugly or anything like that.  He was actually strangely beautiful with pale Irish features, reddish blond hair, and from what I could tell; he had dark eyes along with a stance at about six foot four.  Every time I saw him, he always wore some of the strangest clothes that I had ever seen! From where I stood, the fabric of his jacket was almost like it was made out of hundreds of silk ribbons blended together; flowing all around him like some sort of god. The rest of his clothes, however, seemed like something that could be found in a department store, but looked quite expensive, nonetheless. Underneath his unusual jacket, I could see that his pants were casual light khakis paired with brown shoes and a chocolate brown sweater. [FIX!  Make it dream-like]     The more I watched him, the more I noticed him staring at me; not just glancing up at my gaze, then looking away; but staring and never backing down, which is odd for most people in Fairport Harbor. It was possible that he wasn’t from around here—maybe just moved from a different state or country.

Apart from his physical appearance, I couldn’t pinpoint what was so obviously different about him. Maybe it was his confidence—the fact that he was so obviously different from the rest of the people in the store. It may have also been the fact that he was watching me, of all people. I hadn’t changed much since high school; my hair had grown a few inches and some more freckles popped out on my nose, but overall, I looked exactly the same. I had always kept to myself, never having many friends, mostly because I’d never felt like I could relate to anyone my age. I’d lived in Fairport Harbor my entire life, but somehow I had always been seen as an oddity—my mom had always called me her “rare magical beauty” (which I never agreed with). It has never been much of a problem, but I’ve become accustomed to being overlooked by most—not stared at for perpetual amounts of time.   
Interrupting my thoughts midstream, a pair of stubby, white male fingers was snapping in front of my eyes. When I refocused my gaze, I realized that my neighbor, Mr. Miller, was standing in front of my register with a pile of canvas boards and paints, impatiently tapping his foot and strumming his fingers on the credit card machine.
“Hey, what’s the hold up?” he snapped after I had awoken from my slight daydream, jumping a little at his booming voice.
“Oh, uh… I’m very sorry, Mr. Miller. I apologize for any inconvenience. I’ll have to get more sleep tomorrow night,” I said as calm as possible with a shaky laugh, hoping that he would find a little bit of humor in the situation. As I was attempting not to upset Mr. Miller’s temper, I glanced over and noticed that the line following him was a line backed up very far into the scrapbooking isle. Oh crap, I thought, quickly tuning back to Mr. Miller’s ranting.
“…been standing in the confounded line for ten minutes, waiting for you to snap out of it and stop drooling over the loner in the back!” I abruptly looked away from him, and I couldn’t say or think another word while I rang up the rest of his items. I just stood there, feeling my cheeks and ears slowly turn the vibrant color of my ugly smock. How embarrassing, to have my neighbor follow my vacant stare to where this stranger stood… at least, he’d been standing there just a few seconds ago. Oh well, maybe he had heard the fiasco with Mr. Miller, and thought it best if he left. Sigh. That was the best daydream of my life, I thought as I smiled to myself, even if Mr. Miller had ruined it. During the rest of my shift, I paid little attention to my work because after the enormous line that I had caused earlier, there was little traffic throughout the duration of the day.

-*-

 

When Monday finally rolled around, I was very exhausted. I hadn’t slept well over the weekend, not since Mr. Miller’s lovely outburst on Friday morning. I wasn’t having nightmares, at least none that I could remember. Just a lot of tossing and turning, from what I had gathered when I woke up numb with all of my blankets scattered on the floor. Getting up and ready for school took me an unusually long time, maybe because I was dreading classes, or possibly because I was tired. Driving to school in the frigid gusts of wind, I hit almost every red light on the way. Fantastic. It’s going to be a great day, I thought sarcastically. My first class of the day was computers, so I wasn’t extremely worried about getting to school on time.

I had barely made it with a few minutes to spare before my professor had to start lecture. I was the last one in the room and took the only empty seat. To my surprise, my red-haired admirer was sitting in the seat opposite me. He was even more handsome up close, even though he was turned toward the monitor. I noticed that his hair was more red than blond, and his jacket was made out of patches of silk and suede; I had the urge to touch the sleeve because it looked so soft and comfortable, but I thought better of it. I hadn’t had any idea that he took this class…why, then, didn’t I know his name? Why had I only seen him during my shift at work?

About a hundred questions buzzed in my head, all of which I’d almost blurted out to him. I’m very glad that I didn’t, because the second that I had sat down and recognized him, his eyes met mine. I was debating on whether or not to introduce myself, but he continued to render me speechless. It was obvious that he realized that I had recognized him. Though his face was full of confusion, the other part of his reaction was very different, however, despite last Friday. The beautiful boy gave me the same look that a child would give toward a vegetable he didn’t like. He wrinkled his nose and everything! How rude. Not only that, but he had edged his chair as close to the keyboard as possible, and began staring blankly at the screen. I could see his feet twitching underneath the desk, like he was severely anxious or had drunk too much caffeine before class.

“What a jerk!” I mumbled under my breath in his direction, in hopes that maybe he would hear me.

-*-

 

I could barely pay attention in any of my classes that day. Thankfully I only had English and Photography, and was being lectured in both. My head was swimming with the reaction of the red-haired boy. His nose had wrinkled, his back had stiffened, and his feet had twitched. There was definitely something else that he had done; something very strange, otherwise I probably would have been able to concentrate. Whatever it was, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. It hadn’t come to me until I was driving home in the pouring rain, going a bit faster than I would be normally. The sudden flash of his look given to me during class came into my vision abruptly, causing me almost to swerve into an oncoming Jeep in the next lane over. It was his eyes. His eyes had flashed, just momentarily, from his gorgeous deep green-blue eyes to the brightest yellow-gold that I had ever seen. By the time I had blinked again, they were back to jade, but he had forced his torso as far into the computer desk as it would allow. Remembering this image scared me, making me wonder what exactly I had done wrong to make him react in such a ridiculously hateful way. Hopefully it didn’t happen again, because I couldn’t handle, or afford, to subconsciously ignore my other classes because this one boy decided he only liked me from a distance. I tried to think of other things to keep my mind off of the boy, but I failed miserably; my thoughts always ended with a flash of green to yellow. Eventually I had given up and just went to bed early.

-*-

 

The rest of the week had gone by sluggishly; I hadn’t seen the boy since this past Monday in Computers. By Friday, however, he was in his usual spot in the back of the craft store. I was assigned to stock shelves that day instead of working the cash register, and on my way to my first isle, I met his gaze. Despite Monday, he still seemed to find me fascinating somehow; thankfully his eyes stayed that brilliant shade of jade and he didn’t cringe like I had expected.  Then, out of nowhere, I heard a voice behind me.

“Hello,” he said; his voice just as beautiful as his face. It was like a low bass with a soft edge to it, like the silk from his jacket. I had jumped about a foot when he spoke, unaware that he had even walked up next to me.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said after I had caught my breath, “my name is Cowen Quinn. You must be Lillian Pierce.” He smiled a brilliant white smile, holding out his pale hand for me to shake. I held mine out warily and took his, giving it a light shake. His hand felt unusually rough, like he had worked outside with his hands often, though there wasn’t any hint of freckles or a suntan. I blushed at the contact as he gripped my hand with a bit more force than I had expected.

“I’d rather you call me Lily.”

“Lily.” He said my name with an understanding voice, almost as if he’d forget it as soon as he’d left the store. “You’re in my computer class,” it wasn’t a question, but a statement; “I want to apologize for my reaction the other day. That was very rude of me.” His shining green eyes burned into my dull honey-brown ones. I struggled to breathe as he spoke to me, his voice made my heart hammer in my throat. He spoke with a strange formality, a very old fashioned maturity that wasn’t heard much from men my age.

“Uh…it’s fine. No worries,” I managed to choke out. My eyes grew wide as he smiled another dazzling smile.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. I hope that I didn’t scare you, though. I just had never expected anyone so lovely to be in my class, let alone to be sitting right behind me.” Cowen thought I was lovely? This explanation confused me, making me suddenly very angry, mostly because his reaction on Monday didn’t match up with the same reaction that most would give when thinking you are “lovely.”

I took a deep breath, trying to compose my sudden rush of anger. Narrowing my eyes, I asked a question that I knew would make him uncomfortable. “Then how can you explain that awful look you gave me on Monday? Can you explain the wrinkled nose and burning stare, all while you shoved yourself aggressively into your computer desk?” I had hit the nail on the head. Cowen’s eyes shifted, and he looked as if he were going to run away from me. I stood my ground, widening my stance and concentrating on making my face look angry so as to not let his beauty distract me. Cowen did not run away, much to my surprise; instead he took a deep breath, inhaling for an unusually long time, and composed himself while he closed his eyes. When he finally exhaled, his breath hit me like a bus and washed over my face, causing me to stumble out of my widened stance and temporarily stunning me out of anger. The scent that lingered was an unbelievable vanilla musk-like fragrance that almost forced me to lean in closer, similar to it’s own gravitational pull, towards his lips and nose to keep the smell from leaving mine. My anger had now completely fallen from my facial expression as I stared at him with wide brown eyes and gaping mouth; in fact, I had forgotten why I was mad in the first place. When Cowen opened his eyes again, he began laughing a boisterous laugh, which shook me out of my vacant stare.

“What?” I said. I had tried to sound angry, but I failed remarkably. My voice cracked, making me sound like a complete idiot. He laughed again, but attempted to stifle it quickly when I gave him the most ferocious look that I could come up with.

“Oh nothing,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I was just trying to think of the best way to explain my behavior on Monday, but your . . . uh . . . lovely face distracted me. Also, I believe I can see a bit of drool, just--,” he wiped at a spot on the corner of my mouth, “there.” He laughed again much more loudly and guttural than before, and at that moment I had then given up trying to stay angry. I sighed and looked away, returning my attention to stocking shelves. My reaction seemed to confuse him, and I could see a questioning look from the corner of my eye.

“Are you no longer upset with me?” Cowen asked with an upset undertone in his voice, indicating to me that he was having fun at my expense.

“Well,” I said, still concentrating on my work, “Yes, I am still very upset with you, but I have a difficult time trying to stay angry at someone who keeps intentionally trying to distract me.” I was handling breakable objects, and didn’t really want to pay for any broken items because I turned to face him while I spoke. I didn’t exactly trust myself to remember how to grasp things with his eye contact, for he was much too handsome not to gawk at.

“Hmm. Well how about I take you to dinner tonight, to make up for my behavior. Would you be opposed?” He was asking me out to dinner? I must have been dreaming. At first I was somewhat excited that my day might actually involve me doing something other than work, but then I remembered something.

“I don’t get off of work until eight. I hope that’s alright with you. Also, is there anything in particular that I should wear?” As I asked the last part of my question, realizing that any normal male my age would have left my question open to interpretation, I immediately flushed a violent shade of red, and quickly shied away from his gaze. Seeming to dismiss my embarrassment, he took his rough hand, placed it gently on by blazing cheek, and lifted my chin up so that I was looking into his eyes.

“That all depends on where you would like to eat. I was thinking Italian, possibly? That would probably require something a bit more sophisticated than jeans, but I’m positive you’ll look radiant in whatever you choose.” All I could do was nod because his vocabulary absolutely amazed me. His compliment had also left me somewhat speechless.

“I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty,” Cowen said. He turned to leave, I still stood there dumbfounded, with my cheeks blazing; either from blushing or the place where his hand was.

 

-*-

The rest of my shift slugged by, and I was unexpectedly, yet thankfully, able to leave a half hour early. Now that I had more time to actually process the meeting with Cowen earlier, I could start getting ready for my . . . date. It had been a while since I had actually been on any sort of date, so I was really nervous about making a fool out of myself. As soon as I had my foot in the door, I ran upstairs, not even acknowledging mom’s calls after me, and jumped into the shower in hopes that the hot water would calm my racing heart. The warm water fell from above, quickly soaking my waist-length, curly auburn hair down to my toes. Small rivers or warmth trickled over my eyelids while I stood there, letting the steamy shower fully embrace me. In the midst of scrubbing my hair, mom was pounding on the bathroom door, in hopes to get a couple answers out of me.

“Lily, honey, what are you doing? Are you actually going out?” she yelled from the other side of the door.

Frustrated and nervous, I called back to her “Yes, I’ve been invited to dinner. Just a friend from school; I won’t be out late. You don’t have to wait up for me I’m nineteen years old!” As I said that last part, I knew it was a lost cause. I could come home at four o’clock in the morning and mom would still be sitting at the dining room table, drinking coffee and strumming her fingers to the tick-tock-tick of the extremely loud grandfather clock. Any feeling of relaxation was completely gone now, but everything that could be done in the shower, including shaving my legs, was fulfilled and it was time for me to dry off. As soon as I had wrapped my robe around my waist and wrapped the towel around my head, my heart began pounding again as if I had never stepped foot in the shower, not that mom’s questioning had helped at all. Sigh. On that note, I went to my closet and began scanning my limited amount of dressy clothes, hoping that something would jump out at me. Unfortunately, nothing did, so I just gave up and opted for a black halter, knee-length dress with silver trim around the bottom. Since it was starting to cool down quickly outside, I also grabbed my grey-silver button-down sweater for over top.

“Lily, you look beautiful. Is it a boy taking you to dinner?” I had completely forgotten that mom had probably followed me into my room after I bolted out of the bathroom. After running a comb through my tangled hair unnecessarily rough, I hoped my natural curl would be okay for the occasion.

“Yes, mom,” I answered through my gritted teeth, “his name is Cowen. It’s our first . . . uh—date, I guess you could call it. We’re just going to eat, and then I’ll be home. Please don’t embarrass me and insist on meeting him tonight. If all goes well, maybe there will be a next time.” That obviously wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but, with a sigh, she left my room and went down to the living room. When I could safely hear the television blaring, I made my way downstairs.

When nine-thirty struck the clock, much too soon, I promptly heard a sharp knock on the front door.  Oh, crap.  Mom was going to do something stupid, no doubt.  I had to think of something!

 “MOM,” I shouted, “I’m leaving. Remember what I asked you—please keep watching your show!  And don’t put on anything stupid!” With that said, I took a final glance at myself in the mirror and a deep breath. Slowly, I opened the door to see where Cowen stood.

“Good evening, Lily,” he said in a whisper, “you look astonishing.” He smiled his breathtaking smile and put my right hand to his lips, kissing it like a gentleman.

I’d soon forgotten that I wasn’t breathing, and quickly choked out a response, “Uh . . . thank you. You look great, too.” The word ‘great’ didn’t even begin to cover the way Cowen looked at that moment. He was wearing a black fitted suit with an emerald dress shirt and a dark golden yellow tie, making his eyes glisten more than they did earlier today. Interrupting me from my thoughts, Cowen held out his arm, motioning for me to take hold of it.

“So, where exactly are we going?” I asked warily. I had to admit, I was a bit scared. If he was asking me to choose fine cuisine, I wasn’t entirely sure I could; I had never exactly left Fairport Harbor.

“Well,” he began as we walked across the lawn, “since you look so beautiful tonight, I believe I may have to make adjustments to my original plans. I was originally planning on taking you to La Bella Noché, but I must insist that we go somewhere much nicer.” La Bella Noché? That was the nicest restaurant in town!

“No, uh, that restaurant is fine. We don’t need to go anywhere else,” I protested. I really didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of rich strangers—it was bad enough that I was going to make a fool out of myself in front of local strangers.

“Well, alright, if you insist. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” As Cowen and I were walking down the porch steps, I stopped short when I saw the vehicle sitting in the driveway.

“THAT is your car?!?” I exclaimed. A jet black mustang, brand-spankin’-new, was occupying the empty space at the end of my driveway. It was the most luxurious car that I had ever seen.

“Yes, that would be my car. Is there something wrong with it?” He looked at me with a confused, somewhat hurt look on his face, which made me quickly regret mentioning anything at all.

“Oh . . . n-no,” I stuttered feebly, “Cowen, it’s an amazing car! It’s so pretty!” Instantly he smiled wide, his stunning white teeth glinting in the streetlight. He then opened the passenger door and held it open for me, making sure my dress wasn’t in the way of the door before he closed it. Not only did he speak in a tongue that was completely foreign to me, his behaviors were off the chart as well. Never have I had the door held open for me before, or complimented so much in a single conversation as I had with him. His chivalry made him even more charming, causing me to like him much more than I had ever intended.

When I was settled inside the car, the vanilla-musk scent—same as his breath—washed over me again, calming my nerves more quickly than I had thought possible. After a few seconds, Cowen was in the driver’s seat next to me, and we were on our way to our very first date.

 

-*-

 

 

The Truth

I was dreaming; there was absolutely not a chance in hell that what Cowen had just told me was, or could ever be, real.

“Cowen, you really need to stop kidding with me now,” my voice began to rise with anger and embarrassment, “if you didn’t really like me, all you had to do was say so! But instead you ask me on a ‘date’ and make up some crack-pot story about how I’m some sort of faerie-witch with powers and crap?” With tears streaming down my face in humiliation, I stormed out of the restaurant, intent on walking home. When I reach the glass doors, Cowen is somehow already on the other side, standing on the sidewalk waiting for me.

“What the --,” I started to sputter between tears. Before I knew it, Cowen was inside with his arms wrapped around me. I was so confused—the doors hadn’t even opened!

“Shhh. . . Lily. It’s okay,” his voice instantly calmed me, “There are a lot of things, that I’m going to bet my life on, that you mother has failed to mention to you. You, my dear, are nineteen years old with no clue as to your true family history. Would you like to come to my house with me and have some coffee? Or, I could take you home if you’d rather.” His voice was reassuring, comforting even.

“I suppose I could come over; for a little while, anyways. If what you are telling me is true, then I don’t really want to see my mom right now. Just so you know, I’m going to have a ton of questions regarding pretty much everything. Do you think you can handle that?” My voice was still a bit shaky from crying, but getting some questions about my past answered seemed like a good idea.

“Yes, sweetheart, I’ll be able to handle pretty much anything you throw at me,” he said. I smiled weakly at him, reached for his hand, and lead him back to our table so he could pay.

 

-*-

 

“So, why do you even bother with a car, if you can just charm yourself everywhere?” It was a valid question—even though I knew the answer as soon as I had asked the question.

“Well, when I take beautiful women out to dinner, usually they don’t expect to be materialized to the restaurant out of thin air. A car makes me seem a bit more like the rest of society, I guess.” Cowen chewed on his lip while he paused, making me nervous.

“Don’t be nervous, Lily. We are just coming up on my house right now.” How did he . . .? Oh, forget it. I kept forgetting that Cowen wasn’t human, and could probably sense my emotions as well as hear the pounding of my heart.

Trying to relax, I focused my attention out of the window. The view, even in the dark, was breath-taking. The road had veered off into the trees, and there were no signs of other homes around where we were. The dirt road was practically invisible by fallen leaves and pebbles, and it took me a bit to realize that next to us on our left, was Lake Erie.

“Wow.” I whispered to myself. I had never seen the lake look so beautiful before, and apparently Cowen could tell. I heard him chuckle at my reaction, but I ignored him. Suddenly, without warning, Cowen sped the Mustang up so fast that the trees went past in a blur.

“What are you doing??” I practically screamed!

“Just wait and see. Be patient, dear.” Cowen seemed to know what he was doing, but that didn’t really keep me from holding my breath. We were going to crash into something—he was nuts!
To confirm my thoughts on his sanity, Cowen made a sharp left, heading straight for the lake. At this point, a scream escaped my lips, for I was sure I was going to die. I closed my eyes awaiting the crash of metal and water, but it never came.

“Lily, we’re here.” I didn’t believe him. He was crazy—an absolute nut-job.
Finally, he nudged me and pried my hands from the door’s handle. Slowly, I gave in, opening my eyes one at a time. My jaw dropped at the sight in front of me.

 

-*-

As soon as my hands were pried from the door, the beautiful Mustang seemed to dissolve from under us.
                “Where did your car go?” I asked in bewilderment.
                “I sent it to the garage.  It would be somewhat in the way up here, wouldn’t you agree?”
                I was staring at a living room—a huge, almost medieval style great room with a large bear-skin rug set in front of an enormous fire place.  There would have actually been room in here to fit the Mustang, I was sure of it.  On the far wall, I could see a family portrait, facing a flight of enormous, stone stairs.
                “This is amazing, Cowen; absolutely gorgeous!”
                “I’ll be more than happy to show you around, but first—let’s make some coffee, shall we?  I am sure you have so many questions for me.”  I had actually forgotten most of my questions that I had for him on the drive over.  As I followed Cowen into the kitchen, however, the all came flooding back.

-*-

                The things that Cowen and I had discussed were unreal.  He told me that my father was a very powerful warlock—my father was one of the strongest warlocks in the universe—and this power was very much a part of me.  No matter how hard I tried, I was still having a difficult time comprehending this information.  There was one other thing as well; my mother was a faerie.
                “Aren’t faeries supposed to be small?  Like . . . fit in your palm, kind of small?”  this news was actually more shocking to me than the fact that dad was a warlock.
                “That is the thing about humans—they just don’t really understand our world.  Faeries are the same size as the average human, just as you are.  Now, faeries do have wings, though I’m sure your mother keeps them tucked away.”  He stared into his coffee as he said this, which made me uneasy.
                “What do you mean . . . ‘tucked away’?” I asked him hesitantly.  Looking at me with sad eyes, he quietly told me what had happened to my mother, leaving me speechless.
                “Lily, when your mother found out that she was pregnant, she was banished from her community.  You see, faeries are not allowed to mate with other creatures.  Well, it is not that it is impossible, but in the faerie community, they see it as socially unacceptable.”  After he said this, Cowen stood up to get himself another cup of coffee.
                “So what are you saying?  When my mother was banished—what happened?  Why hasn’t she ever told me any of this?”  So many questions were buzzing through my brain, making me dizzy.  This wasn’t possible . . . only the worst things were coming to mind right now.
                “Lily . . .” Cowen paused for a long time; too long.  “Lily, your mother had her wings clipped; a very painful process that scarred your mom physically and emotionally.  The High King may have even wiped some of her memory, but I cannot be sure.”  My insides dropped, and I felt my throat slowly close up.  This must have been why mom never talked to me about my father; why she never mentioned her youth; why she was always so insanely worried about me . . .
                “Help me, Cowen,” I gasped as the tears began to flow, “Help me reach my full potential.  I want to know just what it is that I can do.”

-*-

I woke up in the grass, covered in dew, wearing a dark yellow satin gown.  Disoriented, I sat up and tried to figure out where exactly I was.
                Hello, deary.  Lost are we?  I jumped a foot in the air when I heard the voice.  Oh, I can see that you’re alone.  Master is going to be so happy when she finds out!  I searched around, seeing nobody.  The voice seemed to be coming from the sky.
                “Who’s there?” I asked; which was stupid because I knew there wasn’t anybody there.  You need not worry about who I am, sweetheart.  I think it is best if you figure out who you are first.  Just as soon as the voice had come, after that statement, it was gone.
                “Where the hell am I?” I asked myself.  Why would I need to figure out who I am?  The voice from the sky stuck in my brain, constantly taunting me to answer the question of who I was.  Walking through the trees, I finally came upon a cottage.  ‘Oh Christ,’ I thought, ‘If there are seven tiny beds in this place, I’m going to freak.’  Alas, there were no beds; there was actually nothing in the house at all; just an empty room.  As I entered the room, I felt itchy all over; like my dress was suddenly made of fleas.
                “I see you’ve found my home.”  I looked up, and in the raptors of the roof stood Felicity—the most powerful sorceress in the world.
                “Uh, hi . . . how’ve you been, Felicity?” I said between scratches.  “Where exactly am I, and could you, uhm . . . stop with the spell?”  When she jumped down from the raptor, out of the dark, I had immediately realized that the itchiness was a spell to keep out intruders.
                “Certainly Lily; where’s your hubby?  Didn’t he want to watch you die today?”  Felicity could be such a bitch sometimes.  Even with her waist-length blonde ringlets and turquoise sundress, she was just as menacing as any other threat that I’ve encountered.
                “Listen, Felicity, I don’t even know how I got here, let alone know where Cowen is.  This whole ‘waking up in the middle of nowhere’ thing kind of messes with you sense of time and space  I mean, not like you would really know, seeing as you have been alive for, like, ever and just pop in and out of places as you please.”  Oye . . . I immediately began to regret saying that last bit because Felicity shifted her right hand my way and forced me against the wall.  Did I forget to mention that there was an invisible hand around my neck?
                “Lily, I really would like to kill you right now.  I’ve waited nineteen years and here are, finally within death’s reach.  You really need to think before you open that big mouth of yours, sweetheart.”  It was at that point that I snapped.  With all of my concentration, I shoved my left index finger forward, and charmed Felicity into the exact position I was in—up against the wall by her neck.  Unfortunately, I had no idea what to do now, because her charm was holding me.
                “Lily, hasn’t your man been teaching you anything?  Charming me up here was just stupid; and very juvenile, might I add.”  Felicity easily broke my bond and in one consecutive motion, somersaulted in the air and tossed me on the floor like a ragdoll.  The old stone floor of the house crumbled under the force of my body, covering me in rock and dust.
                “Felicity,” I said while rubbing my head where it hit the ground, “was that really necessary?  I still don’t know what I ever did to you to make you hate me so much.”  I mean, I knew she didn’t like me because I was alive; that much was obvious.

© Alyson Stock; 2009

Oh yeah, by the way, the writing in another color is what I was currently working on, and it was to help keep track of different sections.  Right now, I have no idea where the part in green is going to fit into the rest of the story, but I thought of it, so I wrote it out.

The process known as photogravure is becoming a forgotten art, along with its counterpart, film photography.  Photogravure is originally a process that was essential for the development of modern photography, and has also had its own issues with becoming known as a fine art.  This process was used to make books, journals, portfolios, etc. and photographers chose this process to showcase their final prints.

            Photogravure is originally traced back to original printmaking as early as 1829.  This was a good ten years before Louis Daguerre first announced the invention of photography.  A brief history collaborated by www.photogravure.com will describe the process that Niépce used to discover photogravure:

“As early as 1814, Niépce had begun experimenting with light-sensitive varnish used in the new art of lithography. His landmark success came 12 years later when he reproduced the engraved portrait of Cardinal d'Amboise from a lithographic plate. To do this, he first coated a pewter plate with Bitumen of Judea (asphaltum), which by its nature is light sensitive. Then he covered the sensitized plate with the original waxed engraving and placed it in sunlight, which hardened the bitumen under the light areas of the image. The plate was then washed with a solvent, which washed away the unexposed areas of the image, and etched in an acid bath. After etching all of the bitumen was removed and the plate was printed with the traditional intaglio method. That same year, Niepce also succeeded making the first camera image showing a view out the window of his house and relying on the same materials and techniques borrowed from etching - bitumen of Judea on a pewter plate.  Unfortunately, Niépce's death in 1833 left Daguerre to pursue image making alone and, in 1840, he announced that he had developed the photographic process that bears his name. Daguerreotypes were magically precise mirror-like images produced on silver-plated copper. The new medium was quickly and enthusiastically embraced. ”

            Film photographers have simulated this style of photogravure by actually exposing their image onto paper, then use transfer solution to set the emulsion onto, in this case, a copper backing.  After processing the image on the copper backing as they would on photographic paper, the most difficult part of this replication is the Etching bath.  This is an extra step that is taken after the stop-bath, and this unique look is created by using Ferric chloride as a liquid solution.

            With my image that I’ve taken, digitally, this process was much simpler than with film, or even with the original process of photogravure.  With filters and paintbrushes, I was able to get an effect that was much like the film process.

This was a fun project.  The type above is my research paper that I included with the print.  I kind of want to do more with this type of photo process, but I'm not sure exactly how to go about doing it.  Anybody have any ideas?