Cameo to the Moon

The wind whistled between the trees, a quiet rasp like the stillness in thought when you hold your breath too long—until the air burns your lungs and the world around you scorches your eyes red. Jane felt that same panic pressing in, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath, and with theirs, hers was trapped inside her body as well.

In that moment of panic and pain, her body froze, entirely focused on the stillness and the whisper of the wind. Then, the sudden caw of a nearby raven startled her. She jolted, her knees clanging against the doorframe and knocking her down to the floor. The only thing she could fixate on was the fire burning in her bones, her very being alight, radiating from her knees to her soul. Curled in on herself, she breathed deeply—in, out, in, out—trying to escape the inferno of the present.

Knock. Knock.

Her head shot up toward the entryway. “Who would be here this late?” she whispered. She knew she hadn’t ordered anything, nor was she expecting a visitor. Not a friend, not anyone. Why would anyone come? Slowly, she got up, her knee still burning, the knife-like pain of the hard floorboard pressing against her bruised skin. For a moment, that was all she could think about.

Knock. Knock.

The words to greet whoever was there lodged in her throat. She wanted to say anything, but no sound would escape, as if her own body had betrayed her.

That fear—who, what, why?—clung to her, freezing her voice. Trembling, she stepped toward the door, unable to speak, each movement heavy with dread. As she reached the door, her thin, pale hand found the knob, trembling uncontrollably. She exhaled shakily—and turned it, slowly opening the door. At first, she peeked through a crack, seeing no one. Slowly, she pushed it open fully. As she stepped forward, her toe struck something solid.

She froze, eyes dropping to a box at her feet. It was wrapped in black paper with a black ribbon, topped with a single rose and a letter—the only thing that stood out against the darkness. Slowly, she looked back up, wondering who could have left it there. The night was quiet, the only sound a faint rustle from the forest. Glancing over, she felt as if eyes were tracing her face, sliding slowly down her chest. Grabbing the box, she bolted, slamming the door shut with her foot as an afterthought.

Slowly walking over to the table with the box and the letter, she caressed the rose stem, “How odd, no thorns.” Gentle, touching the petals, the velvet feel of them is all she senses, the warmth the petals radiate, sticking to her fingers for a minute.  She carefully takes the rose and sets it on the box separating the letter the ribbon holding it against the flower looking at her name in elegant if not spiky curvsive on the front of the envelope moist section draws her attention and holing it to the angled to see better a invisible kiss sets on top of her name like the sender purpose lick his lips and kissed it horror and revulsion kicks in for a moment. One horrible moment, she felt like throwing the letter away from her into the fire and screaming at once she touched his spit!

  Even without knowing why, she knew it was a man  The only thing holding her hand from doing that was a deep curiosity that filled her what it says. Forgetting her revulsion and without thought nor knowledge that she even did it the hand that touch the kiss swipe against her lips a indirect kiss. After all if she thought about it her inner revulsion for germs would have stopped from happening sitting down by the window she pauses and flips the letter over to see wax dripped haphazardly in to a center of the letter sealing it shut she carefully slid her finger under the she and slowly pulled accidentally knicking her finger blood stains the envelope a wolf howling outside at the same moment glancing up she looks outside while sucking on the cut hoping her heart will slow down and her finger stops throbbing in time with her heart looking out she swear she sees glowing eyes a blink and they disappear.

“just my imagination” she murmured.

The wind whistled between the trees, a quiet rasp like the stillness in thought when you hold your breath too long—until the air burns your lungs and the world around you scorches your eyes red. Jane felt that same panic pressing in, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath, and with theirs, hers was trapped inside her body as well.

In that moment of panic and pain, her body froze, entirely focused on the stillness and the whisper of the wind. Then, the sudden caw of a nearby raven startled her. She jolted, her knees clanging against the doorframe and knocking her down to the floor. The only thing she could fixate on was the fire burning in her bones, her very being alight, radiating from her knees to her soul. Curled in on herself, she breathed deeply—in, out, in, out—trying to escape the inferno of the present. Knock. Knock. Her head shot up toward the entryway. “Who would be here this late?” she whispered. She knew she hadn’t ordered anything, nor was she expecting a visitor. Not a friend, not anyone. Why would anyone come? Slowly, she got up, her knee still burning, the knife-like pain of the hard floorboard pressing against her bruised skin. For a moment, that was all she could think about. Knock. Knock. The words to greet whoever was there lodged in her throat. She wanted to say anything, but no sound would escape, as if her own body had betrayed her. That fear—who, what, why?—clung to her, freezing her voice. Trembling, she stepped toward the door, unable to speak, each movement heavy with dread. As she reached the door, her thin, pale hand found the knob, trembling uncontrollably. She exhaled shakily—and turned it, slowly opening the door. At first, she peeked through a crack, seeing no one. Slowly, she pushed it open fully. As she stepped forward, her toe struck something solid. She froze, eyes dropping to a box at her feet. It was wrapped in black paper with a black ribbon, topped with a single rose and a letter—the only thing that stood out against the darkness. Slowly, she looked back up, wondering who could have left it there. The night was quiet, the only sound a faint rustle from the forest. Glancing over, she felt as if eyes were tracing her face, sliding slowly down her chest. Grabbing the box, she bolted, slamming the door shut with her foot as an afterthought. Slowly walking over to the table with the box and the letter, she caressed the rose stem, “How odd, no thorns.” Gentle, touching the petals, the velvet feel of them is all she senses, the warmth the petals radiate, sticking to her fingers for a minute.  She carefully takes the rose and sets it on the box separating the letter the ribbon holding it against the flower looking at her name in elegant if not spiky curvsive on the front of the envelope moist section draws her attention and holing it to the angled to see better a invisible kiss sets on top of her name like the sender purpose lick his lips and kissed it horror and revulsion kicks in for a moment. One horrible moment, she felt like throwing the letter away from her into the fire and screaming at once she touched his spit!  Even without knowing why, she knew it was a man  The only thing holding her hand from doing that was a deep curiosity that filled her what it says. Forgetting her revulsion and without thought nor knowledge that she even did it the hand that touch the kiss swipe against her lips a indirect kiss after all if she thought about it her inner revulsion for germs would have stopped from happening sitting down by the window she pauses and flips the letter over to see wax dripped haphazardly in to a center of the letter sealing it shut she carefully slid her finger under the she and slowly pulled accidentally knicking her finger blood stains the envelope a wolf howling outside at the same moment “ glancing up she looks outside while sucking on the cut hoping her heart will slow down and her finger stops throbbing in time with her heart looking out she swear she sees glowing eyes a blink and they disappear” just my imagination “ she murmured then looks back at the letter her hold breaking the seal she pulls the letter out opening the pages a fragrance hits the air at the same time she bends to smell the letter and the scent of currants and black pepper hints her nose She smiles subconsciously and starts to read Darling. Who would dare call her that? Her. Jane thought the word with a capital H. She was no one— a cowering waif of a human, not even worth mulling over. I have a gift for you. Her eyes flicked to the box. A sense of dread and wonder tangled in her chest. What is it? A whisper slithered through the back of her mind: They’re playing a joke on you, Jane. You’re nothing. Not only the present in front of you, the letter continued, but a gift of words as well. Jane’s entire being went still, thought stopping as if the calm before a storm. I know how easily you are frightened, and make no mistake: what I say may frighten you. Her heart started to pound, erratic and hot. She almost didn’t want to finish. But fear not. I would never harm you. That’s what they all say, the insidious part of her brain hissed. It’s all lies. Everyone only cares about themselves. Others who try to separate us… Well, let us hope none comes between us. She swallowed, idly wondering why there was a lump in her throat. And if you flee—ah, my heart—nothing will truly separate us. Not even you. Fear almost blinded her. She swallowed around the lump again, the only perverse sensation of curiosity pulling her on. Ah, I have made you afraid. That was not my intention. I desire you, it’s true. Me? a small part of her whispered, a question without breath. The real truth is this: you and I are meant to be. Love—true love—lets nothing stand in the way of fate. I have simply accepted it before you. Know this: I am always there. Always with you. Yours. Jane stared at the page. One thing she knew: nothing was going to be the same. She wanted it—desperately—to be a joke. But a larger, quieter part of her burned with a strange curiosity about what would happen next. Jane carefully set the letter down and, with trembling fingers, lifted the lid of the box. Nestled in a bed of black velvet lay a silver locket—a cameo in stark white with delicate jade inlay surrounding it. The carved image was of a wolf, head thrown back in a silent howl. Her breath hitched. She remembered the wolf’s cry from earlier and swallowed hard. Picking it up, she felt the rough etching on the back. Darling Heart Forevermore Yours The words were carved deep, like a promise… or a warning. She turned it over. A small clasp hid at the side of the cameo. Slowly, she opened it. At first, she didn’t understand what she was seeing. A photograph, black and white, slightly grainy. But then her stomach dropped. It was her. Not a photo she had taken, not one she had ever posed for—her face caught in a candid moment, turned slightly, looking off at something unseen. She had never seen this picture before. The realization slid through her like ice: he was watching her. Her heart plummeted. With a strangled gasp, she hurled the locket back into the box, as though the thing itself burned. Dread coiled tight inside her chest. Hastily, she slammed the lid shut and turned away, refusing to look back. “It’s just a nightmare,” she whispered. “Tomorrow.” She murmured the word like a prayer. Tomorrow, she would wake, and all of this would dissolve into nothing more than a bad dream. Without another glance at the table, Jane fled to the bedroom. She switched off the lamp, leaving only the fireplace’s flames crackling behind her. The light spilled into the room beyond, where the box still sat on the table. The open window breathed in the night’s chill, the forgotten rose stirring in the draft.  At that moment, a shadow passes, and the door slowly opens.

then looks back at the letter her hold breaking the seal she pulls the letter out opening the pages a fragrance hits the air at the same time she bends to smell the letter and the scent of currants and black pepper hints her nose She smiles subconsciously and starts to read.

Darling,

Who would dare call her that? Her! Jane thought the word with a capital H. She was no one— a cowering waif of a human, not even worth mulling over.

I have a gift for you.

Her eyes flicked to the box. A sense of dread and wonder tangled in her chest. What is it? A whisper slithered through the back of her mind: They’re playing a joke on you, Jane. You’re nothing.

Not only the present in front of you, the letter continued, but a gift of words as well.

Jane’s entire being went still, thought stopping as if the calm before a storm.

I know how easily you are frightened, and make no mistake: what I say may frighten you.

Her heart started to pound, erratic and hot. She almost didn’t want to finish.

But fear not. I would never harm you.

That’s what they all say, the insidious part of her brain hissed. It’s all lies. Everyone only cares about themselves.

Others who try to separate us… Well, let us hope none comes between us.

She swallowed, idly wondering why there was a lump in her throat.

And if you flee—ah, my heart—nothing will truly separate us. Not even you.

Fear almost blinded her. She swallowed around the lump again, the only perverse sensation of curiosity pulling her on.

Ah, I have made you afraid. That was not my intention. I desire you, it’s true.

Me? a small part of her whispered, a question without breath.

The real truth is this: you and I are meant to be. Love—true love—lets nothing stand in the way of fate. I have simply accepted it before you. Know this: I am always there.

Always with you,

Yours.

Jane stared at the page. One thing she knew: nothing was going to be the same. She wanted it—desperately—to be a joke. But a larger, quieter part of her burned with a strange curiosity about what would happen next. Jane carefully set the letter down and, with trembling fingers, lifted the lid of the box.

Nestled in a bed of black velvet lay a silver locket—a cameo in stark white with delicate jade inlay surrounding it. The carved image was of a wolf, head thrown back in a silent howl.

Her breath hitched. She remembered the wolf’s cry from earlier and swallowed hard. Picking it up, she felt the rough etching on the back.

My Darling Heart Forevermore One

The words were carved deep, like a promise… or a warning. She turned it over. A small clasp hid at the side of the cameo. Slowly, she opened it. At first, she didn’t understand what she was seeing.

A photograph, black and white, slightly grainy. But then her stomach dropped. It was her. Not a photo she had taken, not one she had ever posed for—her face caught in a candid moment, turned slightly, looking off at something unseen. She had never seen this picture before.

The realization slid through her like ice: he was watching her. Her heart plummeted. With a strangled gasp, she hurled the locket back into the box, as though the thing itself burned. Dread coiled tight inside her chest. Hastily, she slammed the lid shut and turned away, refusing to look back.

“It’s just a nightmare,” she whispered.

“Tomorrow.”

She murmured the word like a prayer.

Tomorrow, she would wake, and all of this would dissolve into nothing more than a bad dream. Without another glance at the table, Jane fled to the bedroom. Lamps left ignited and leaving the fireplace’s flames crackling behind her. The light spilled into the room beyond, where the box still sat on the table. The open window breathed in the night’s chill, the forgotten rose stirring in the draft.  At that moment, a shadow passes, and the door slowly opens.