Chasing Emma

Chapter One - The Forbidden

There are a million and one reasons why I shouldn't have done it, but I was young, and more naïve than I like to admit. I refused to believe there could be terrible consequences for disregarding the things I'd been taught. I made my decisions not knowing that one never appreciates what they have until they are forced to look back at what they had.

There are rules in the Fae Realm that pass down from generation to generation like seeds on the wind; planting their roots in each of us to keep us grounded, and safe. While I had never been one to challenge the rules, something in me changed the year I became of age. Probably because I was at that time in life when rebellion seeps in and gives you just enough courage to dare fate. I hungered for excitement. Anything beyond the mundane routine that consumed my days. I craved a different life. One that was full of adventure, rather than what I had come to know as my normal existence. I spent my idle time daydreaming about faraway places and romances that swept me up like a feather on the wind rather than a rooted bloom. There just had to be more to existing than what I'd experienced up to that moment in my life.

I justified my actions by telling myself that it's in our very nature to taunt that line that shouldn't be crossed. We play with havoc like a child who is amused with a new toy—even if the toy could be dangerous. Some of us even enjoy the risk! We were encouraged to explore our given traits, and to master them from the time we were old enough to process thoughts! Of course, we were told that there were some things we shouldn't tamper with. Some things were simply forbidden. The way I saw it, if you weren't willing to challenge the things that were forbidden, how would you ever know that they truly were bad things? I didn't enjoy the thought of risking danger. The truth was, I didn't believe there was anything to worry about. I trusted my heart and did the one thing that was most forbidden to our kind.

I should have known better than to have fallen for a human, but I can't allow myself to think about that now. It's way too late for that. There are no takebacks. There are only tomorrows. I hope I have a few more of those in my future. For now, all I can do is run and pretend. Even if I could take it back...I'm not entirely sure that I would anyway. As the song says...you have to take the bitter with the sweet.

The silence of the early morning hours always makes me feel like I'm at my lowest. As if every other being on the planet has a place and a purpose, and I don't. It's early November, and as I stand, leaning against my car, my breath comes out in puffs of visible smoke. I wish I had a jacket. Shit. I wish I had pants. I'd grown rather fond of human clothing; however, I still missed my raven feather cloak. It would serve me nicely in this weather too. I shiver and stomp my feet to drive out the numbness from my toes. My shorts and boots look great with my black and white checkered flannel though.

I'm broke. I'm hungry, and I'm desperate. I've got to get some food pretty soon, or I'm going to pass out. It's been two days since I've eaten. I've been living on bottled water, free sugar packets, and cigarettes since then — and I'm down to my last bottle of water. At least I have a half a pack of smokes left. I light another, and blow smoke straight upward, in defiance of the world I'm living in.

"Fuck it." I say, out loud. The truck stop is filled with Semi's. All of them fitted with comfortable little sleeper compartments. Meanwhile, I'm sleeping in "Betsy," my 1995 Toyota Avalon. She's got no air-conditioner, but her heater works like a charm. It's an advantage now, but I'll be miserable by late spring. The humidity creeps in slowly and by June it wraps around you like a wet blanket you can't shake. My vehicle registration tags have expired, and I learned very quickly how that attracts police. Fortunately for me, I got off with a warning rather than an impounding of Betsy. The tags I have now are current thanks to a plastic knife and an unfortunate upstanding citizen with a car parked in a dark parking lot one night. I scraped the registration tags off and glued them on my Betsy like a professional thief. I'd even stooped so low as to steal the glue.