A Summer's Eve

one

"Goddess forbid!" Alora screamed, her mouth now dry as her writing had been these past few weeks. "You can't even see 2 inches past your own mind's eye, can you? It has never been about me. My wants or my needs! All of this," she spread her arms wide, drawing attention to everything around the two of them. Their home, their space, her writings, his wood working, their entire investment in this life. The thin door with the carvings they had worked on together creaked in acknowledgement. She stared into his eyes. The deep brown that she had grown to love and envision during the late nights of turmoil between her and her editor. The pillows they spent a whole weekend weaving, stuffing, and sewing. The bear hide lay out under the small couch and tree stump coffee table from one of her hunts gone wrong. Her hands were burning, all of the anger I had felt like fire burning through my veins.

"All of this." Her voice dropping, "I thought that you and I may have spent our years working hard to build this. I worked so damn hard. But you? You were tearing it down from the inside."

Her last words came out a whisper at the realization. She balled up her fists, piecing her palms with her fingernails as she felt the sweat drip down the center of her back. The house still smelled the same as when they first purchased it. Wood, sage, and mildew all combined together. Breathing it in, Alora couldn't help but relax. It pained her to know she was leaving this place, the one she had forged through her exhaustingly hard work. She had been working tirelessly each day. Struggling to make all of their ends meet, always wondering why it never seemed to be quite enough. This was the last piece she was missing. Him.

Two nights ago, as she was finishing her third novel in her first series, Alora started to have the worst case of writer's block. So, as he slept peacefully in their bed, she took a silent walk around their small little home. Filing through anything and everything to get some ounce of thought back. She dug through the chest in their living room. It was hand carved out of the old oak that had fallen three days after they bought the property, their nightstands which held their most important belongings, and finally she went into their garage to see if any of his latest pieces could spark what she desperately needed. It was then that Alora found it.

He was smart. Smarter than she gave him credit for. Never would she have expected something so traitorous be put through standard letter carrier. It was tucked in a small drawer at the bottom of the new desk he was making. A secret compartment, a signature of his work. It was always a puzzle trying to figure out how to get them to open, how to figure out where he placed them. Alora figured solving his newest puzzle might be able to help her finish the novel. But there it was, the letter. Within this letter was every detail of the series that had yet to be written. Every plot line, sub plot, character development pieces, down to the simple setting details. All of this addressed to the one up and coming writer who had the chance to wipe her name off the shelves.

This new writer was insignificant, until her latest book was published. It contained plot twists that Alora had planned, story lines she was in the middle of writing, and everything else that would make her fourth book nearly impossible to write. It was his betrayal that caused this. His deceiving that had caused so many roadblocks, late nights, and breakdowns. Alora slept on this for two whole days, getting everything in place to leave. Over the course of two late nights she went about, silently packing her things and shipping them off on the next boat to Zytheria.

Alora's mother and sisters where there. She had received a letter two months ago telling her they were moving. She hadn't seen them in over two years. Zytheria was new, and mostly undiscovered. There had been stories spanning centuries covering all sorts of myths. A giant continent with no civilizations. Only dense forest and many rivers flowing out into the sea. There had been talk of settling the land out there. Develop it and raise the next generation Everyone always fantasized. However, every year the explorers sent there would not come back. Scouting missions would survey their route and occasionally find their ship, torn in two or set a flame burning so hot that it looked like the rising sun.

There were very few pictures of the land that sat there. Those that were captured seem to dull what the true beauty of it likely is she thought. Giant trees perched along high rocky cliffs, forest so dense it would swallow a person whole, and the rivers, many of them cascading down the black rock, billowing in the wind. Alora often looked at the pictures for inspiration. If she immersed herself in them enough, she almost felt like she could smell the fresh water as it hit the ocean below. The mix of rainwater and salt spraying up onto the rocky shore, and a fresh breeze carrying along notes of fern and fresh soil as it too whipped down from the cliffs. Moving there may not solve all of her problems, but it would solve the biggest one at the moment.

Thorne's voice bounced off the tight walls of the house, "Alora!" Her eyes shot to his, her expression unreadable as she stared, waiting for him to make his next move, her eyes darkened as a stray shadow swept the light off her face. "What on goddess green land are you going on about?" He yelled, albeit much more calmly than her own outbursts just moments ago.

She had no more words for him. He didn't deserve to hear a single thing that her powerful mind had in store. Reaching behind to the back pocket of the linen pants she wore, Alora grasped the wretched letter.

Her fingers slightly slid along the paper as the sweat began pooling in her palms. Alora's body raged with heat as she quickly pulled the letter and laid it before him, the paper rustled, the only sound in the room as it fluttered in the air before settling on the small uneven coffee table. She looked down to the letter sternly before looking up at his face. She wanted to laugh. Laugh so hard the walls shook and that stupid painting he hung on the mantle of their fireplace fell. His face contorted in such a hideous way that she couldn't help but wonder what had ever possessed her to find him attractive in the first place.

"Alora, I can explain. Please." He started to beg, his tone instantly shifting. She held up her hand, palm faced towards him and the sweat glistened in the sunlight pouring in from the skylight.

"The house is yours, but we," She motioned between the two of them, her throat feeling thick "We are done." Alora scanned his face as tears started racing down his cheeks and disappearing into his thick beard. That was enough.

"I am leaving Thorne. I don't ever want to see you again." she spoke quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. Her face trained into a cold nothingness. Something she had practiced over the two days of preparing. Reaching behind the couch and grabbing the last of her belongings, already stashed in a satchel, Alora strode out the front door. Looking over her shoulder at the house she would no longer call home one last time before continuing to the docks where the ship awaited. To take her on her next adventure she supposed. Her new home.