I want to start off with a story. It’s a story about a girl and a boy who fell in love with each other but never had a chance. I’m sure you’ve heard the tale. But this is much more personal.

I had just been dumped pretty hard by someone I cared for immensely. One might say I even loved her. I was in the prototypical sad state of affairs after this when I met Jennifer. I couldn’t tell you, even to this day, what it was about her. She was gorgeous, sure, but that wasn’t it. Her eyes sparkled with all the stars of the night sky, but that wasn’t it either. Her smile. There are no words to describe her smile, even now, but suffice it to say that it could make any dreary day bright again. But it wasn’t even that.

I felt something. Something inexplicable, something intangible, something…that caused my heart rate to elevate, my palms to get sweaty, and my breathing to become slightly labored. I remember thinking my stomach was in my throat and wondering how on earth this could be. Love at first sight? That was a mere fallacy, no such thing existed.

Oh, but it existed alright. Even if I didn’t want to believe it, it happened. I can’t explain it so it makes sense even to me, but from the moment our eyes met, I knew I had loved her all my life. As it turned out, I wasn’t alone in my feelings, either.

Now, one might think how lovely a story, and when I start with something like this I’m often asked, “So how long have you two been together?” The answer is: We never were.

The mere strength of the emotions scared the living crap out of both of us, and in different ways. First, I was afraid to think, say or do anything that might bring up such an admission, and when I finally admitted it to myself it took a while for me to work up the courage to say anything. When I finally did speak up, Jennifer stopped talking to me for three long months. I don’t know if I’d ever felt more devastated in my life, even up to now. But it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know how to react, because she felt the same way. The whole thing is frightening on a whole other level.

If we fast forward to today, you’d see that I’ve now been married for six years to an amazing woman who’s been by my side for eight years now. Her name is Melody. She takes my breath away, even after all this time, and I am always falling deeper in love with her. Each day I wake, I realize my heart has gotten bigger, I feel like my chest is going to explode it’s so filled with love and passion for her. But, even after all that time, Jennifer is an ever-present force in my life.

I’m not using pseudonyms or changing names here, this is my reality. I’m not telling the story of Phaedra and Dane here (although those tales have a basis in the truth of my relationship with Jennifer); instead, I’m trying to make sense of something so few could possibly comprehend, and even fewer bother with. And that is the idea of soul mates.

If you’ll be so kind as to indulge me, I have a theory.

The soul, or spirit if you will, is eternal. Each soul has a different beginning, some being old, others being relatively young. But they are not bound to life and death as a mortal is. Instead, they weave in and out of time, sharing a life with a person of their choosing.

Have you ever had memories that aren’t yours? Have you ever dreamed of things that you know had to have happened but never actually happened to you? I believe these memories are not our own, but connects us to all those our spirit has shared its time with – I believe that the spirit chooses us at conception and bonds with us, staying with us until our final breath. After that, it will carry us into the future, bringing all our memories as well – a form of immortality, if you will.

Now, what if my spirit meets up with another spirit that it shared a life with in the distant past? The power of that kind of connection is immeasurable. I’ve met two such people in my life. But the connection I share with Jennifer is by far the most powerful thing I’ve ever felt.

I can feel her pains, her frustrations, and tears. I can feel her happiness and joys. I may not be able to know why or how, but it’s there. Every time a tear falls from her beautiful face, it lands upon my heart. Even over great distances of time and space it was ever-present. I can’t speak for her, but for me it is the single most incredible experience of my life…and I didn’t even get to share my life with her.

It’s an odd thing, trying to make sense of the nonsensical, but I hope I’m not alone here. I hope I don’t come across as this mind-numbingly insane guy that blows a lot of hot air up your skirt. Even if I can’t explain it, it doesn’t detract from the magnitude of what I feel. A flood of emotions doesn’t begin to describe it.

To say that I love Jennifer isn’t enough. To try to explain it is impossible. You see, I love and adore my wife, but that’s different. What I feel from her I can attribute to intuition, or being able to see her reactions to whatever is going on. I know the story, I know the stimulus. But with Jennifer it’s something beyond me, beyond us. Something I may never know or understand.

And somehow, I have to be okay with that.

But, I think I’ve won in some weird way. Jennifer, after many years of silence between us, is now in my life again and we’ve sort of redirected our energies into being friends. Some days I imagine it must be hard, but for some reason I feel whole knowing I can talk to her, and I’m okay with knowing that I can never have what I thought was the only woman in the world for me – in that way.

Ever heard the term “old soul”? Well, if I were to guess, I’d say that our souls might be some of the eldest… But that’s just speculation.

So, what is the purpose of this post? Honestly, I have no idea. I felt like talking about something personal for once, instead of posting stories or guides. And don’t worry too much, if you think me odd now, just give it time…you may find I’m not such an oddball after all.

A war may last for years, but a battle can be determined in minutes.

Despite the stupidities of any given society throughout history, it should be noted that whether or not warriors are admired, war is ugly. It is cruel, unrelenting, cold, and brutal. A warrior doesn’t have the luxury of playing sides in the heat of debate, for a battle is won by the swiftest steel, or the higher ground, or the better tactical advantage/mind. A battle is won by employing trickery, sacrificing pawns, and applying a strategy that ensures victory.

“The supreme Art of War is to subdue the enemy without fighting.” ~Sun Tzu.

For those of us who have served in the military, The Art of War was required reading. For many of us who have studied any form of martial arts, The Art of War holds firm in bringing out the strategic mind in any encounter.

Sun Tzu used deception in many of his teachings as a method to overcoming one’s adversary, but in the end, he showed that it was best to avoid war where possible, but always to be ready for it.

A battle, by definition, is any encounter where there are two or more opposing forces seeking to overcome each other with violence. A force is two or more people. Most often, the numbers are much higher, but you get the point.

Points to ponder:

• What are sizes of the forces? Is one significantly larger? Or are they fairly equivalent?
• Were there scouts dispatched to ascertain the size of the opposing force? And, most importantly, did they make it back?
• Who has the high ground? Higher ground is a huge tactical advantage. It doesn’t ensure victory, but it certainly helps.
• What is the caliber of warriors on either side? Seasoned warriors? Young forces? These things matter. After all, if one side is seeking to retreat because they about crapped themselves by knowing who they’re facing, or the sheer numbers of those they face…it says a lot.
• What are the commanders on the battlefield like? Are they tacticians, able to think on their feet and adjust? Or are they more of the type that plans and sticks to the plan. Both methods can be equally effective, but can add a lot of dimension to a story.
• Should one wish to, one could employ Sun Tzu’s teachings to their story. For instance, a small force could use a tactic that employs them being spread out so as to appear larger than they are. Likewise, a larger force could do the opposite in an effort to appear smaller.
• What are they fighting for? Lands? Conquest? Defense? Retribution or vengeance?
• And what may be one of the most fun things to contemplate…what is your MC/protagonist/antagonist thinking? Obviously, point of view here will be a big deal, but the events leading up to will cause a stir of emotions, as will the prelude, the battle and the aftermath…

It is of utmost importance that the idea for how the battle will play out is done in advance. For instance:

• If the fight is going to be linear in progression, or if there will be instances where certain deaths will swing the tide in one or another direction. To put this in movie terms, let’s look at Troy for inspiration, specifically where Hector defeats Ajax. The defeat of Ajax deflated the Greeks and the Trojans won the day.
• If one of the forces has backup that shows up at a key moment, or at all.
• What kinds of tactics are being used by each side? Sheer numbers and force of will? Or perhaps applying strategic thinking to the battle? Bear in mind that the higher the difference in numbers, the higher the chance the sheer numbers will win – but at what cost?
• No army has unlimited resources. Resources, supplies, etc are the keys to victory. Taking away an opponent’s resources is a devastating blow to them, and will almost ensure victory. As was mentioned when discussing the Anatomy of a Fight Scene, a well fed warrior is far superior to a starving, dehydrated one. Imagine then the ramifications of an entire army being malnourished going up against a rested, well-fed army.
• To piggyback on the above statement, a blow to the supply lines large enough can force an opposing force to draw down and give up the fight before it starts.
• What is the reason for the battle? Often it’ll be positioning for a greater plan/scheme, or perhaps a foolhardy attempt at retribution or vengeance. Stupidity in action can either pay dividends or get an entire fighting force decimated.
• What is the terrain like? Has there been rain lately? If there has been rain, the grounds could be wet and muddy. Are there cliffs to work with/use? How much higher is the high ground? Are there any choke points? For many medieval castles, this was the point of the drawbridge and moat. A choke point means a much smaller force can take the taste for battle out of any army…

The focus should be on key elements. Placement, mindset, parts of the action. Timing is also key in any battle, and when writing of it, this should play a rather large factor. Momentum and time of day should also be considered. An early morning raid with a small party can cause panic and it would be possible to push the panicked individuals toward their death; whether it be a cliff or to the rest of the standing army waiting to end the fight.

And here’s the biggest question of all… What does it look like? In cover of darkness is there a moon? In daytime is the sun out? Or perhaps it’s cloudy that day. What’s the weather? Rain? Snow? Dry? Consider what a dry day could do, especially if under drought conditions…fire could be used to great effect. What are the winds like? It would be foolish to have the wind against you and still use fire. But if the winds are at your back the battle could be over before it starts.

Of course, this is not all inclusive, to say the least, but I do hope it gives you some things to ponder when considering what and how to write your battle scenes. Remember to attack it from a bird’s eye view and from the ground. Focus on the little things that make a battle scary, but also on those things that make a battle worth fighting. What do the movements look like? How do I show this? Have a visual of the terrain in your mind and run with it.

Phaedra had given up on Dane and finally allowed herself to move on. After all, Dane had gotten everything he ever wanted in the arms of another woman, why should she dwell? Besides, it wasn’t as though she wasn’t marketable. A stunning beauty in her own right, she had her pick of the litter…she just hoped that Dane was happy.

But there was always something resting there in the back of her mind, a constant nagging feeling that all was not right.

They still talked sporadically. For some odd reason, they could never remain apart, even when they weren’t talking. The distances that somehow always kept them apart could never be enough, for their hearts were linked. If ever there was a time to believe in soul mates, this was probably it. But life is harsh and unfair – cruel even – and now she found herself alone, attempting to keep herself busy so she wouldn’t think on him anymore, it hurt too much.

And yet, without fail, nighttime always fell upon her, and with the coming of the darkness came the loneliness.

Her sighs were absorbed into the pillows that held her head in their cradle. Her tears soaked up by the same. It was a terrible tragedy that had befallen her (and indeed them), and her cries knew no end as she often cried herself to sleep at night, only to wake up exhausted, rendering herself quite useless to her activities, at least until she had enough caffeine in her to face the day.

As her mind often wandered to him, she began to wonder just what they were doing. Neither Phaedra nor Dane had ever gotten past their feelings for each other, but never once did they have a chance to go out on a date, or hold hands, or kiss. No, they had been relegated to long distance hopes that just never panned out.

She had hurt him; she knew this, but God how she wished he was with her now. Even just the sound of his voice was enough to bring a smile to her face – but that smile had since vanished, as it had been months since she’d heard his voice. Each day was longer than the last; the nights filled with sorrow and dashed dreams.

Phaedra had broken his heart. And now he had shattered hers. They were meant to be together, but no matter how much she believed this he was with her now, and if the rumors were true, his girlfriend was pregnant with his child.

She couldn’t possibly call him now, it would ruin everything.

Then, one fateful day, months and months after he’d gotten married, Phaedra received a call from Dane.

“Hello?” …Phaedra’s voice was quiet, timid, and broken as it cracked slightly under her breath.

“Hi, my dear,” came the solemn reply, “I can’t do this. I can’t pretend with one while I love another. It’s not fair to anyone. And so, even if I end up alone, I’m getting a divorce.”

“I knew a lady very like your sister – the same impulsive sweetness of temper – who was forced into, as you put it, a better acquaintance with the world. The result was only ruination and despair.”

~Col Brandon, movie version…

“You keep this up, and I will kill your family, slowly…while you watch.” David’s threats rang true, and he had the power and resources to deliver on these threats.

“Kill me, that’s fine, but don’t you dare threaten my family…” his name was James, but he was better known by the code name ‘Raven’. His wrists were raw and beginning to bleed from the ropes tied perhaps a bit too tightly, which was probably the point, and his face and body were beaten. Shirt ripped and tattered, his body bore the same marks as his face, the bruising visible in dark blue blobs, and it was possible there was a broken rib or two.

“Raven. Raven, Raven, Raven… Do you even realize what you’ve already cost me? Your little movement has created quite the stir, and my counterparts and I are hardly gleeful about your quaint attempt at a coup. So here’s how it’s going to be: you disband your group, stop the movement, and I’ll allow you to luxuriate in a dark cell for the remainder of your pathetic life. Should you refuse, I will personally kill your family in ways so intimate you will be unable remove the images from your mind for the rest of your life, which will be a very long time, which I will see to personally.

“Your suffering will be my joy. But make no mistake, either way, I win. You may not know how this little game is played, but it goes like this. You shut the fuck up and get out of my way, and I continue to run this ridiculous country however I damn well please. So long as people are afraid my power will remain in check. Your uprising is over, your voice quelled.”

James sat quietly, no emotion on his face, eyes boring through David’s. “You don’t get it, do you? What life is there for my family if I give up, anyway? Living isn’t about converting oxygen to carbon dioxide, or serving your ridiculous notions. This is bigger than me…” and James looked down, contemplatively, as he thought about his next words and their ramifications, “…or my family.”

“You just signed the death warrant for everyone you ever loved.”

At this, James began to laugh. “You still don’t get it. My loved ones are safe, but you…” he trailed off, a grin forming at the corners of his mouth, “you have now lost everything. Your family is dying, they’ll be dead within the hour, for out of the mouth of my enemy comes their punishment.”

And as he ended his sentence, the bruising on his body and face disappeared, the ropes and chains holding him in the chair vanished, and then, without touching David, lifted him up with a power never before seen, as David yelled, “What witchcraft is this?”

James just remained silent as he searched David’s mind. As soon as he got the information he needed, he placed images within David’s mind, of his family dying before his eyes. David would remember these things as memories, but the truth is that James would never kill innocents. Instead, the family was being moved at that moment to a safe house.

It was done, James now had knowledge of every assassin at David’s disposal, and some of them were incredibly dangerous. Possibly with more power than he had. With this final thought he launched David through the air with but a thought and a flick of the wrist, and he turned around to walk out as David crashed into the wall and crumpled unconsciously into a heap behind him.

Next step: eliminate the assassins.

A recurring question that I keep seeing is, “How do I write a fight scene?” This is easy and difficult, simple and complex, depending on what needs to be conveyed.

Allow me to explain.

Is the fight scene a pivotal moment? Or is it something that sprung up, a surprise of sorts? How long does the fight last? Is the fight between two masters, or between a novice and experienced fighter? What kind of weapons do they use? Is this a battle scene, or is it a duel? What is the energy level of the fighters?

If you’re attempting a David vs Goliath type battle, with the underdog pulling out the win, that’s cool, and makes for a great story, but needs to be done right. Make it believable. A seasoned warrior could become overconfident when it’s a size/build issue. Underestimation in a fight is a powerful weapon in its own right. Overconfidence can often be someone’s undoing. So can rage.

These questions and many more, need to be hashed out prior to figuring out how the scene is going to go forward. Here are some things to keep in mind when trying to flesh out a fight scene:

• Only in rare and extreme cases does a fight last longer than a minute. Keep in mind this is in more of a duel setting, one pitted against another.
• A war may last for many years, but a battle can be determined in minutes.
• Have both parties been eating well? Are they both at peak performance? A tired warrior is prone to rash decisions in the heat of battle due to wanting to get it over with quickly, and can make a costly choice. However, the endurance of a battle-trained/hardened warrior is far beyond the endurance of a traveling mercenary.
• A battle hardened warrior doesn’t need to size up his opponent… He did that the moment he saw his opponent. Hence, there will be very little walking around each other, staring into each other’s eyes ominously. No, they’ll just try to end the fight as quickly as possible.
• If there’s an opening, the skilled fighter will go for it.
• A purely defensive fighter will most likely lose. Seeking the right opportunity usually means you miss it. Instead, an advanced warrior will make the opportunity present itself, predicting his opponents’ moves beforehand and dictating the outcome of the fight. And yes, this can fail under the right circumstances. For instance, if, defensively, the opponent is using terrain to trip the assailant, this can result in an opportunity.
• Acrobatics mean nothing. Except maybe a quicker death.
• Just because one doesn’t want to fight doesn’t mean he won’t still be killed. It just means he has no chance of defending himself when he throws down his sword in an effort to make a point. Unless he’s an amazing fighter and can incapacitate his opponent, he’s dead.
• With fighters of equal skill level, the fight can go either way.
• A fighter isn’t necessarily the same thing as a killer. A warrior who’s seen the battlefield can be hardened and calloused to the horrors, but a trained fighter who’s never seen blood will be affected. A killer seeks the killing stroke with every strike, a fighter will seek to incapacitate – the victor will most likely be the killer.
• What is the purpose of the fight? Have tensions risen to the point of boiling over? Are they mortal enemies? Is it an inevitable battle between the forces of your protagonist and the opposing forces?

Magic. Or Magick. Or Magicka. Or Magecraft. You get the point.

The idea of magic throws a standard fight into an uproar. A sorcerer or wizard has the ability to cast a spell that can hurt or confuse or kill an opponent. So how does someone fight against that?

Well, this is just me speculating, and every person’s magic system should be taken into account, but here goes:

• Is there previous knowledge of the arcane within your world? If a warrior faces off against a mage of any type without knowing, he’s more than likely dead.
• What resistances are there to the arcane, if any? Might be a specific race of people (or non humanoid), or perhaps a certain trinket or flower that holds magical properties.
• Does the sword-bearer have the ability to get within striking range of the caster in a very short time?
• Stealth abilities? An ability to catch a sorcerer unaware would be incredible, and very rare (at least to me, keep in mind this is speculatory).
• How does the caster fight? Does he use illusions or tricks? What is the length and breadth of his control over his craft?
• Spell effects? What are they, and what do they look like?
• Weaknesses? Does magic drain the caster? Does it draw from their life-force? Can there be a mastery over magic that makes the caster immune to any weaknesses?

Anatomy of a Fight (one on one)

The normal fight consists of a few events.

• Reason, or cause
  1. There has to be a reason for the fight. Even if killing is just purely fun for the individual, this has to be established, and does suffice as reason.
• Meeting
  1. This might be a fateful meeting of chance, or one that was set up by one or both of the characters
  2. Some martial arts forms teach to fight before you fight (a choreograph of the fight within one’s mind). Would your characters have this kind of upbringing? Or would they just rely on their sheer strength or weaponry?
  3. Is there a dialogue? Or are there no words as they just get to hacking at each other?
• The fight itself
  1. What is going on in the fight? Sights, scents, thoughts, the feel of the weapon clashing against the opponent’s shield, for instance, and the odd thudding sound it made.
  2. Is there pure hatred? Or is there cold calculation? The power of emotions within a fight can either make or break the fight. A cold, calculated individual may have presence of mind over any actions of his aggressor, being able to remain calm in the face of rage. Keep in mind, there is no easier way to piss off an already irate individual than with a lack of emotion…
  3. What is the end goal of the fight? Is it to the death? Or is it to make a point? Are they killers? Training? Whatever the goal, make certain it’s clearly defined.
• Resulting circumstances
  1. Every fight has an outcome. Whatever happens will have circumstances that need to be dealt with. This is important. What are the repercussions of my protagonist losing? If the protagonist wins, what will happen now that he’s won?

As writers, it is our job to bring our readers into our world, help them experience what our characters experience, and build up the excitement and tension within the story to draw them further into it. A well-executed and well placed fight scene can help us do just that.

His eyes were welling up, a solitary tear finding its way out of his deep brown eyes as he contemplated the monster that now stood before him was once his brother. His hair was unkempt, and had grown long in his chase, having reached his shoulders and covering the left side of his face. He stood squared with his opponent, a dark cloak draped over the left shoulder where his sword lay in wait.

There was no speaking to this monster, no reasoning with him, all words were wasted, he knew, and so moved his hand to the hilt of the sword sitting off his forward hip in anticipation.

It was then that his brother attacked with such ferocity and power that even in expectation it took him by surprise. But he knew the attack sequence – he had already seen how this fight played out in his mind, and deftly sidestepped the incoming thrust, moving his right foot back and twisting the same shoulder in turn, quickly returning to his initial position and ducking in the next movement to avoid the downward swing aiming for his chest.

It was then he drew his sword, just after dropping, pulling his sword out of its sheath and across the stomach of his unguarded adversary. Having drawn his sword in reverse grip (Zatoichi), he pulled the sword to full arm length, using the momentum of the sword to switch grips in one motion, then stepped back on his left foot, crouching with his sword above his shoulder, point facing toward his nemesis. 

His brother may have become a monster, but he was still as predictable as ever, and with this one swipe the fight was over as he realized that a monster’s entrails spill as easily as a hero’s…

He stood up, brought his sword back to Zatoichi style, and bowed.

He had to hand it to the man that stood before him. Even with the intensity of the bleeding and his entrails becoming extrails, The Man with No Name was adamant, his eyes gleaming in hate. He watched from a safe distance as the man he once called brother dropped to his knees, his body weakening by the second.

He came around then, drew his brother’s dagger from the monster’s side, and stuck it so deeply into his neck that he bled out in seconds, whispering in the monster’s ear, “I love you, my brother.”

He left then, knowing he would be unable to overpower the others who would soon find their master dead. Somewhere deep down he realized that the war wasn’t over…it had just begun.

Her dreams were always unsettled, unless she was in Dane’s arms.  It didn’t matter how much distance was between them, or how much time had passed, all that mattered was his return to her.

Phaedra’s smile was waning, however.  The concern visible on her face as she wondered.  She tried to pass the time with well-meaning friends and the odd-sounding laughter that accompanied these moments, but in her heart she knew it was all a facade, for her real smile had largely disappeared.

It was only during those rare events where she received some type of correspondence from Dane that her smile would be seen again.  His voice, his words in a letter and how eloquent he was, or a quick email in between the activities of the day – it was what kept her alive, this is how her heart kept beating.

Indeed, time passed for her, albeit quite slowly.  Sometimes her mind would wander to a life without him, and she would break down in the very thought of losing him.  Whether to the horrors of war, or just from the distance and time they’d been separated, this was a very real fear, and she felt every bit of it.  But she couldn’t think on that right now, for she and Dane were meant to be together, and nothing could destroy that.

She was loathe to say it out loud, but she strongly believed that he was quite literally created just for her by a very loving God.

Imagining that being taken away was enough to rob her of breath.

As she looked at his last letter again, mostly for the comfort his mere words could bring her soul, she felt his love and held it close.

“My Dearest Phaedra,

I’ve come to realize something while I’ve been away from you.  I’ve learned that across these great distances I can feel you.  I feel your smiles, which have been lessening of late, and I feel when you’re afraid.  I know when something is wrong, and when your mind races to the worst possible ‘what-ifs’.

Please, do not fret for me.  And do not fret for us.  There has never been another I’ve trusted so much in my life, and I know you’ll be there with open arms upon my return.

In my studies of the world around me, I’ve wondered more and more about the intangibles.  Specifically of love.  There is something between you and me that equates to a form of ‘quantum entanglement’, the idea that two or more quantum particles once ‘entangled’ (having interaction with one another) become mirrors of each other (over simplified version, but you get the idea) even over great distances.

At the end of the day, I’ve learned the most valuable thing I can learn…that I know absolutely nothing.  And you know what?  I’m okay with this, because I have your love, because I can feel you, and because nothing can change these things.

Hopefully soon, you’ll be back where you belong – in my arms.

~With Love,  Dane”

Dane was so close to graduation. Things between he and Phaedra were going well, and soon he’d be able to head home for some much needed rest and relaxation. But no matter how much he wanted everything to be headed his way, Dane had long since learned that nothing in life was that simple – something, he knew deep down, was amiss.

“I’ll be done in a week,” he told Phaedra, excitedly.

“That’s great!” she replied, “I’m so happy for you. So, where are you off to next?”

Dane told her, “Well, I’m going to be stationed just southeast of here, but I get ten days to relax after graduation, so I was going to head home and see the family. But you know what would be even better?”

“What’s that?”

“If I just shot straight through and came to see you instead.” His smile was uncontrollable at the thought of seeing her again, as it had been far too long.

Phaedra hesitated, “…No, you can’t do that. You need to see your family, I’m sure they miss you.”

“Nah, I just saw them in July, I can stop by on my way back, though.” Dane should have caught it in her voice, in her hesitation, but he refused to.

“You know I’d love to see you, but…”

Now Dane caught it, “But?”

“Dane, look…” she trailed off, “There’s something I’ve needed to tell you, but I don’t know how.”

His heart felt like it was about to burst, his good mood and excitement to see the love of his life giving way to the worst possible scenarios as this conversation played out in his mind. But he wasn’t ready for what came.

When he remained silent, she went on, “Well, I guess I’ll just come out with it. When I was at camp, I met someone. His name is John,” his stunned silence at this revelation forced her to keep the air between them filled with something, “I moved out here to be closer to him.”

Dane’s mind was reeling, his emotions in an uproar as his face contorted in a visible show of pain from the agony his heart was feeling in this moment. Then, after a few moments and almost inaudibly, he responded, “You could move to be closer to him, but you couldn’t come to my graduation? You couldn’t find it in your heart to come see me, to give us a chance?” His tears were falling now, it felt like a waterfall.

Phaedra didn’t have the words. All she could muster was, “I do love you Dane, but…”

“Don’t waste your breath.” His heart became solid ice with those words. “You say you love me, yet you do this to me? And the worst part is that you moved out there at least 3 months ago and only now you tell me!?”

Now it was Phaedra’s turn to cry, “I didn’t want to hurt you, Dane! And I DO love you!”

“Clearly…” his sarcastic tone and coldness caused her voice to shudder.

“Dane…please.”

“I’m going to get some sleep. Bye.” He hung up then, but of course there was no sleep to be had that night. His thoughts wandered, wished, hoped, and finally, if mercifully, gave up. No matter the power of what they had between them, it wasn’t enough for her, and so, the only thing left for him was to find a way to move on. While he doubted that could happen, he would certainly try.

Of all the places he’d been to in world, nothing compared to her beauty.  He found himself thinking this but unable to see her face, staring blankly at the screen instead, absentmindedly running his fingers through her long, brown hair as his thoughts rested solely on her.

Phaedra was asleep, breathing deeply, restfully upon his chest.  He smiled as he thought about her last statement before nodding off, something to the effect of, “You’re so comfortable, I could fall asleep right here to the rhythm of your rising and falling chest.”

Dane’s back was twisted, his left leg was asleep from the awkward angle he maintained so as to not wake her, and he completely content in this, allowing himself a laugh because of it.

Her skin was so soft.  As tired as he was, he didn’t want to go to sleep.  Somewhere, deep down, he was afraid she was only a dream, and he didn’t want to lose her.  Falling asleep meant that at some point he’d have to wake, and he feared it.  Admittedly, although he really didn’t want to fall asleep, he understood that if he were dreaming, his ass would probably be a lot less tingly right now.

Dane shifted just slightly so as to get the blood flow going again.  And as soon as the pins and needles subsided, he twisted his body just enough to be able to get his hands under her, and he bent just enough for her head to rest on his shoulder.  Gently, and with ease, he carried her to his bed and laid her down, tucking her in carefully so as to not wake her.

He went to the other side of the bed and lay on top of the covers, staring at her until finally at long last, he drifted off.

Soon, he felt lips on his.  And in his dream it was Phaedra.  When he moaned involuntarily, she giggled at him and he opened his eyes to see that it wasn’t a dream after all.

“I couldn’t feel your heartbeat anymore, my love,” she told him.  He could see her smile by the soft light coming in through the window.

“I’m sorry.  I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, I’d say you did a great job, but you forgot the most important part.”

“Which is?” he implored.

“You, silly.”  She moved the covers back so he could slip in next to her.  And very soon, she found her place on his chest again, and he smiled that smile only he could, and she could feel it.  “What are you smiling at?” she asked him, knowingly.

“I’m smiling at you, at us – the wonder of it all.”  It really was hard to explain, but she understood.

“Want to hear something cool?”

“Of course,” he said.

Phaedra smiled, “Our heartbeats are beating as one.  They’re in perfect unison.”

Dane pulled her in close, held her tightly.  He lifted her head by her chin and stared into her deep, brown eyes as he traced her face – and he kissed her.  When he pulled away he could see a faint smile, it appeared as though she was in another world, and he whispered, “I love you, Phaedra.”

“I love you, Dane.”  With that, she settled back on his chest, her arm on his shoulder, her legs wrapped around his, finding herself as close as she could possibly be to him, and they fell asleep.

If ever there had been a Romeo and Juliet in real life, Phaedra had not known it until she witnessed it firsthand in hers.

She was loved.  And as great a feeling as that was, she’d never known it before, and she was scared of it, frightened of what that meant for her heart.

So she did what anyone would do.  She ran.  She hid herself away from Dane for months, refusing to take his calls for fear of the perceived power his voice held over her.  The real power, she soon understood, was beyond either of them.  But I’m so young.  I’m not supposed to feel this way.  Her thoughts drove her further and further from him until she finally realized that her hurt and pain was far beyond her fears.

And so, she decided to pay him a visit.  But the warm welcome she was hoping for, the joy in his eyes she longed to see never came to pass, as Dane couldn’t even look at her, so thoroughly had she crushed his soul.

She knew she didn’t deserve his love now.  Especially now.  And, after a short time, she broke down – her knees buckling under the weight of her collapsing heart.  Without his touch, there was no amount of consolation that could make her think otherwise, for she had just lost everything.  The sheer power of her emotions, however, made her soon realize that this was far from over, because not even the greatest of love stories told of such power…of such a connection.

And they were connected, weren’t they?  Her and Dane?  But what did that mean?

She knew she had messed up.  She knew she hurt him.  But why did he have to be so cruel?  Didn’t he realize how much it hurt her as well?

She loved him with all her heart.  And it was all beyond her control for she had no choice, as he was chosen for her.  Finally, with one last look, she left him there to his own devices, and sullenly left, soft-footed and heavy-hearted, as though a ghost.

It wasn’t but a few hours’ time that had passed before she got a call.  As she looked down she saw it was Dane and her heart skipped.  It rang, What if he just starts yelling at me?  What if he’s still pissed off and refuses to hear me out?  She answered it right before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Hi Phaedra.”  His voice was soft, gentle, and reassuring.  There was a slight hint of annoyance or frustration, but he was trying to remind her how much he cared for her.

“I’m so sorry…” and the tears began to flow.  She must have looked and sounded like an idiot to everyone around her, but in this moment, somehow, she forgot to care.

“Don’t be, I should have understood, I was just so frustrated and angry.  Can you ever forgive me?”  He was starting to choke up, she could hear it, and it broke her heart even more, but it also gave her hope, and she found a smile.

“There is nothing to forgive.  I was so confused, so lost…” she hesitated a moment, “I was trying to figure out who I was, what happened.  None of this makes any sense to me.”

“What do you mean?”  Dane’s voice was so kind in this moment, and she held onto the sound of his voice – so strong, so passionate and loving.

Phaedra continued, “I…When you told me how you felt I realized I felt the same way…and it scared me.”

“I understand.  I fought with myself for months, and I don’t know if I took a single breath when I decided to tell you…in many ways I feel like this is the first time I’ve been able to breathe since that day.”

“Why?” her voice was filled with sorrow at the sound of this confession.

“Because I can’t breathe without you.”

“I know what you mean.  I need you, Dane.  I can’t figure it out or explain it, but since the moment I saw you I knew…you’re meant to be important to me.”

She couldn’t explain it.  But somehow, she knew he was smiling through his tears, she could feel him.  In that moment, in some inexplicable way, she felt everything he had felt, and she was overwhelmed with passion.  She could feel him within her now, and she was safe within his heart as well…

“Remember the letters we sent each other over the summer?” he asked.

Her tears began to well up again, “Of course,” she replied, and in that moment she knew all would be well.