Love and War: Short Story Collection

Midnight Kiss - Maria Elise

Shuffling the boiled peas around on my plate, I did my best to hide the butterflies in my stomach.

Every night we ate dinner like this, in utter silence. Every time my mother's face aged, my dad’s eyes darkened as we ate the same. A hand full of boiled peas and a piece of molded bread. The war had killed half our village, ruined our crops, and emptied our banks, and now they're blocking our trading routes and keeping us hostage on our own land.

A never-ending blood bath had resided in a hollow void—a limbo where the hybrids slowly died of hunger. No place to run, no place to shift, and the only way out was death. That was until the deal was made, and the Lycan king stopped the slaughter of us. My dad used to be this pack`s Alpha. He was a strict, old-fashioned ruler, but he cared for his people. Befriended all that until one of the neighboring packs decided hybrids were a waste of oxygen: an abomination, a mockery to the goddess herself. Nobody came to our aid, and all seemed to have forgotten what we had done for them in the past. It was us against them. Now we were outnumbered and only a shadow of what we used to be.

The bombings and attacks stopped the day they made the deal, the day my family sealed my fate. I was a rear breed, a hybrid with all the werewolf attributes. Even my wolf used to be stronger and faster than the average werewolf. Used to be before my body became so weak I could no longer shift. Blessed by the moon goddess, they said, the half-moon in my fur was supposed to be proof of that. For me, it was a curse. Half werewolf, half witch.

Magic coated my skin and heart, another curse. Witches and warlocks that possessed real magic died out long ago. So the legends say, at least, they were hunted down and killed for their blood. They were used as breeding mares. The magic made them strong, rich, and eventually crazy. One day all the magic was gone. But here I am, full of magic I can’t use because my body is too weak. Unable to shift because I’m too fragile. My mother and father agreed with the blood moons Alpha to give me to them. I've cried and begged, but to deaf ears. I’m going to end the war. My dad is magic, pure magic, and my mother is a werewolf, a forbidden merge that created me—the solution to ending the war.

Out of desperation and despair, I shouted that he should have offered himself, instead of me, his only daughter.

He beat me so severely that I couldn’t crawl out of my bed for over a week. That beating opened a cruel door, and my life became even more complicated. The war kept us caged here, but my prison keepers were my parents; my brother was the silent watcher. My only escape was out by the forest line. I could not cross the invisible line into the forest but linger by the edge. Sometimes I found mushrooms, sometimes just staring in between the threes, daydreaming. This is where I met him.

On a rainy day, I seek shelter under one of the massive trees hanging out over the grass field, trying to tend to the new cuts my mother gave me the night before. I had been demoted to the enemy's property, and they seemed to have forgotten I was their daughter, that they were the ones to decide to give me away. My future looked bleak, I knew. Torture, force, and eventually, a death I would beg for awaited me. But until then, I just existed here.

I kept on breathing because my lungs would not let me stop, one foot after the other. After all, that’s just what you do.

Until I met him.

The day I met the Alpha's bastard son should have been a gloomy day to match his bruises and cuts. Instead, petals were falling from the blooming trees, and the sun shone off the wings of butterflies.

His face was made starker under the shadow of the branches while he held his body in a defensive position, much like mine when father had beaten me.

He is my enemy, one of the reasons why I have to hand over my own life under the pressure of their king’s agreement with my parents. Was it right that I felt something akin to sympathy for him? He is my gate keeper, my prison guard.

He sought shelter under the same tree. The first time, we didn't speak; we just accepted the company. That we both needed to hide here for the moment. The next day he came back, and he brought me a couple of freshly baked bread slices. We ate in silence but carefully eyed each other between the bites. The next day he brought me fruit, sweet red apples. I hadn’t tasted anything this juicy for years, and the first word between us was a thank you, answered by a smile. On the third day, I snuck out some bandages, thread, and needle and closed the gaping wound on his shoulder, and his smile lit the tiniest little flame in my heart. This continued for weeks, until this was the only thing in my life that kept me alive: silent company and a smile.

It took me a while to understand who he was, but I did recognize the tattoo. All blood moon wolves had this on their neck, but it took weeks before we dared talk, and I learned he was the Alpha`s bastard son. That fire in my heart threatened to die, despair as the words left his lips. His father and his pack had slaughtered my pack, friends, and family for so long, and now they made sure we didn’t leave this place before I turned 19 and the Lycan king could come and collect me.

They didn't know I shifted as a scared 16-year-old, and nobody told them. Because nobody except me knew. I shifted alone and scared nearly 3 years ago. Like me, he was unloved, a burden, and annoyance to his family's eyes. Beaten, humiliated, and expected to fend for himself. Protect his brother, the rightful heir, and accept his status as scum in the pack.

I found my equal in a boy as ruined as me.

We met in the gutter of our lives; under pouring rain, sunshine, and harsh winds, we found safety. A bond grew, a connection formed, and a purpose continued blossoming. Kind words and gestures became sentences and hope. Small smiles and kind eyes developed into laughter. A stranger, a friend, and then a kiss. A trembling, heart-pounding moment where my lips softly brushed against his. The moment the first butterfly spread its wings; the first thing that made me forget what my future held. A kiss.

Our village's spirit and life slowly died. Day and night blended together, shorter, darker, and colder. Preparing for downfall. Waiting, dragging by. That’s all we did, all I did. I died a little every day, a piece of my heart, a piece of my soul, will, and body. Preparing to be nothing but an object. The sinister and wicked gleamed in this darkness; their eyes sparkled with anticipation as I passed them. They all knew it. I knew it. I was a dead girl walking.

Our meetings under the three made me stronger; every day, he brought me something to eat. My wolf began to stir, and the magic tickled under my skin.

For once, I felt alive.

He talked about his pack, his life hidden in the woods, patrolling the border so my pack would not leave. About mixed feelings between the wolves, how some cringed at the thought of letting us live. Some laughed as they talked about the Lycan King’s rare breeding mare, his magical playtoy. How she was dirty, cursed, and an abomination that would die slowly dead after providing the king with enough children to create an army. I paled, and I never said a word.

I hated listening; I hated knowing what would become of my life. But I kept quiet, and every day he held my hand. Warm, safe, and so big around mine. For that touch, that feeling of protection, I listened.

Despite my moments of peace with him, I still had to go through the mind-numbing chores of every day at home, the constant arguing with my parents, the harsh nudges, kicks, and punches as they had finally turned on me and now think of me as nothing more than a means to an end.

Each humiliation killed something more inside me, and only a little was left of my soul, which I saved for him.

One early morning, the grass was crisp with frost, and we shared more. I gave myself to him; he gave himself to me.

My first, my only, the last I would ever choose myself. Cold and warm, goosebumps and flustered cheeks, a magical moment. Caring hands and lusting kisses as the pain disappeared between us. A safe place hidden within the nightmare.

Weeks later, I cried, no longer able to hear his gruesome tales. And my secret became his; for a long time; he stared at me. For an eternity, I felt I had lost the only one that kept me alive. He didn’t spit on me, hit me, kick me or push me away. With his strong arms around me, I let myself melt against him: his protection, his apology. I took away his regret. I gave him my secret, and he tucked it away and kept it safe.

The first snow fell to the ground, and our molded bread was gone. Only boiled old peas were left. We were all gathered around the table; my mom looked older. My dad’s eyes were absent and darker, my brother only a wicked shadow of his former self. They ate in silence, but my plate was empty. I didn’t dare ask, and nobody even spared me a look. The first snow fell today; my birthday and new year’s eve are right around the corner! I felt sick; those fluttering butterflies had turned back to tiny larvae in my stomach. Crawling around, making my insides itch. Still, my wolf stirred, hidden deep down in my mind, and the magic flushed under my skin. Nothing I could use, just the mere sensation that it was there. Coming back. All because of a man under the tree.

He held my hand in his, so warm and protective over my pale, cold fingers. The last day, it was the previous day. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I needed to say, one thing I dreaded to say. But everything died in my throat, not a word. Just warm tears turned cold as they streamed down my frosty cheeks.

Warm hands grabbed my chin and forced my eyes to meet his. Intense blue eyes stared at me, filled with sadness and a spark I’d never seen before.

“Leave with me!”

That was all it took; it was all I wanted to hear, everything I needed to hear.

The kingdom had a spectacular firework at midnight, and that was our time to leave. Create a new life, hope, and a new family. All I ever wanted, more than I ever dared ask at midnight.

With trembling, cold fingers, I touched my lips. I could still feel the thud of our heartbeats between them—the kiss we shared.

My breath came out as white clouds in the cold winter air, and my blood stained the thin layer of snow around me. I waited in the darkness for my savior, my love. The one hiding my secret, my first, my only, my last.

There were no tears for me, no pain I could feel, only the sound of my heart breaking. Far, far away, I could hear his voice. He bragged that he would be the first werewolf to drain a witch´s magical blood in centuries. He would be substantial, invisible. The cold snow and the betrayal left me numb. All I could feel as the blood left my body was the faint heartbeat between my lips—our kiss between my lips and a faint heartbeat protected by fluttering butterflies in my stomach.

I tried to say it, I tried telling him, but all that came out of my mouth was blood and sounds I could not recognize.

White trembling fingers rested on my lips, touching the faint heartbeat that once was. The other hand rested on my stomach as I rolled over on my back, touching the last heartbeats protected.

Fireworks sparkled in my eyes as a single tear streamed down my cheek, and all heartbeats vanished.

I was supposed to end the war and the suffering of my people. I guess, in one way, I did, and I made the enemy even stronger. Naïve and in love, I killed my own people.

Mallik.

I found something beautiful growing in the darkness, a burning candle in the chamber of torture. In the sweet little wolf, I found peace and understanding. Acceptance and love without asking for it. Things I never even dared dream of—a flicker of gold in a pile of s**t.

My wolf pulled towards her; my body ached for her my mind felt free beside her. But no matter what I did, how she made me feel, and how I wanted it to last, my fathers taunting face occupied my mind.

Spat at me, how weak I was. A disgrace to the family, not worthy of the air I breathe in. I needed to shut him up, show him and teach him what I am.

I had meant it, that I loved her. With my whole heart, the way it could love. I wanted to run away, far away. It didn’t matter where, as long as she was by my side. But he would never let me be, never leave me alone.

He would forget about me, maybe curse my name because his precious son´s toilet wasn’t scrubbed clean because I left.

I brushed the sight of him away, his voice I buried in the back of my head as I planned our escape. But a dark whisper spoke as an infectious disease in my mind. She could make me so much stronger. She could give me the peace I craved. I knew it. I felt it every time we touched. Every time her hand rested on mine. My muscles relaxed, fusing me with strength and confidence. I was all she needed, all she wanted, and I loved that feeling. I mattered.

I knew I was wrong the second she fell to the ground, that I f****d up. But no matter how much everything inside me screamed to stop, I didn’t know how. Tears, I haven’t cried a tear since I was 12, but now they stream down my face as I watch the life leave her body. The safety she gave me and how she accepted me coated my heart as I screamed out in pain. Still not able to stop myself. Her sweet voice melted like butter in my mind, but my father’s voice trumped it. They collided in my head, and my hands had a life on their own. I killed her; I killed the only person able to love me. The only one that ever trusted me. I tasted her blood and felt the magic flow through my veins, and through tears, I saw how her fragile fingers caressed her tummy, and my wolf went vivid.

I can’t stop; I need to kill him; I need him to shut up; I need him to see me!

The pain rushed through me as my wolf left; he left with her. My body was filled with magic, meaningless, dangerous powers. But all alone, a monster without a wolf. An abomination, a tiny heart stopped beating, and my vision darkened. I’ve done the unspeakable, the unforgivable, but I still tasted her magic blood on my lips.

I can’t stop.

By Maria Elise

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