Hidden Emerald's: Prologue

Where am I? Where are you? My thoughts escape me today. I began writing, as I always do - with a topic in mind, and a general idea of what I wish to convey. However, my muse, the Shadow Queen, is not happy. She is hiding from me, scrunching her nose at my latest work, but refusing to whisper her desires. She is annoyed with my recent draft, and is making her distaste known.

In my mind, I watch her, bare backed - huddled in a corner, looking more and more like J.R.R. Tolkien's Gollum, as the days pass by. In the dimly lit, wet cave where I keep her chained, I see her spine slithering, as she tears the pages I've recently written. One by one, she throws torn pieces of papers over her shoulder, in my direction, - where they land at my feet. When she's done, she gives me a snarl and crawls deeper into the shadows, whispering,

"Beautiful lies, you've written". I've lost sight of her for now. Unsure whether or not I want to follow her.

My muse doesn't always look like a sickly, starved hobbit. Quite the opposite - when I feed her my attention she exudes beauty, power and sensuality. She's pushed me to reveal her presence to the world - and I did. But now she demands unbridled openness and raw honesty. Something I am not yet ready to give.

Crossing my legs, I sit on the floor of the cave - at the invisible border where the dim light diminishes and the total abyss begins. I peer into the darkness she has disappeared into,

"I am not telling lies" I whisper back at her. "I'm just... writing about lighter, easier to swallow topics". We both knew that was a lie. I felt like I needed to further explain,

"You're scary, you know. I mean look how creepy you're acting right now! Besides, I have other interests. There are other things I'd like to write about - not just you - not just doom and gloom".

I hear her scoff and she begins to shuffle, quickly, so very quickly, towards me. In an instant, I am face to face with the Shadow Queen. She is leaning over me, so that her nose is a fraction of an inch away from mine. Pale faced, her eyes, ablaze with rage are boring holes into me, but I refuse to make eye contact. This is the closest I've ever been to her. And although every fiber in my body ached to run, I stayed firm in my resolve to face her. 

"Tell me," she sneers, crossing her own legs while she sits, and mirroring my posture,"where is your rage?"

I shake my head, "I feel hurt, pain, loneliness at times, but not rage."

The Shadow Queen throws her head back in a taunting laugh. I almost feel like I am beginning to hate her. She continues, 

"Beautiful lies. Beautiful lies you tell yourself...and others. I see the truth in your eyes. I see that storm that is brewing, there," she places her pointer finger on my forehead, "just outside this cave. You battle that storm every time you come visit me. Pretending. Always pretending, that it does not exist. But you cannot lie to me. Look into my eyes, for they are yours."

Frustrated, uncomfortable and full of pride, I force myself to look straight into her dark eyes - so much like my own. 

There we sit, 
both stoic, 
both unyielding. 

It could have been seconds- minutes, even- but it felt like hours. Eventually, I start to feel an uncomfortable warmth in my chest. My Muse's appearance begins to change - her features begin to soften, she looks more human, less deformed. The warmth turns to a scorching heat, and it takes all I have to block out thoughts and memories that begin to flood in. The more I accept my anger, the more I allow myself to feel the rage, the more beautiful she becomes. How can I hide from her? I cannot, for the simple fact that I cannot hide from myself.

She senses my strained uneasiness and restlessness. She reaches her hands to mine and clasps them in her warm hands. The warmth surprises me, and comforts me... 

"Shall we begin?" Her appearance is fully human once more, her eyes gentle, her mouth, a sympathetic smile - and her gentle beauty stirred the anger in me. 

"Where would you like me to start?" I spit out sarcastically, and full of venom, "At the beginning?!"

She shakes her head in slow, smooth motions, "No, no. That's no fun. Begin. Begin where it hurts the most. Or where it hurts the least. Simply, begin."

"Its just a story." I replied with a sigh. 

She closed her eyes and positioned herself comfortably before saying,"Only those who seek understanding, will ever see the truth. Now, you know what to do."

With one last deep breath - either for bravery, or to brace myself for the inevitable - I begin to write: