Sarah – Alternate Scribble

Author Note: Scrapped, but keeping as a scribble for inspiration.

Trying to start at the beginning and still capture the immediacy of that moment could be too difficult. I don’t know how to explain the monotony, the complete acceptance of normalcy that made everything I’m about to tell you so horribly unbelievable.

I didn’t believe in fantasy… but I wanted to. I wanted it so badly that I sacrificed reality on a daily basis in favor of computer games, books, movies. I sacrificed it all for a taste of the imagined and then when it all became real, I didn’t believe it.

I hate to be cliche, but sometimes the truth is just that. It started with a dream.

The lavish colors swirled around her so fast that her senses couldn’t keep up. Each flash of gold and whisper of red danced in and out of the spiraling darkness like sunset on dark water. With each swing, she was enfolded and brought close enough to feel the feathers of her mask shift and inhale a slight trace of vanilla, then set free in time to see the colors swirl again.

The beautiful masks flashing around her were styled in so many colors and in such a display that it seemed with such brilliant beauty filling the room, it shouldn’t be so dark. The masks were beautiful but expressionless and made each wearer seem void of a soul. No matter how hard she tried, with each turn she was unable to see anything but dark shadows where laughing eyes should be.

Awareness crept into her mind as she started assigning shapes to the masks. Dark wolves, pigs, long-beaked birds that mocked spiritual Native American totems found in her school’s heritage center. Despite the apprehension in her mind, her body was at ease. She was unsure if it was the soothing glide of the dance or the firm grip of her partner, but she felt safe; protected among the jungle of soulless porcelain.

Wait…That flash of blue. The room shifted just as she made contact with a pair of eyes flashing out from black shadow and pale white painted skin. She jerked her head around, suddenly intent on finding that face to affirm what she saw; a face, not a mask.

She woke to warmth, not the comforting kind but the suffocating warmth and blinding light behind closed eyelids that if not for the smothering feeling in her chest, she would have thought she were dead. When she finally found the will to open her eyes, everything was blurry and her eyes stung. Usually she could remember her dreams very well but this time, there was nothing but a feeling of deep loneliness.

The crisp voice of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance suddenly broke into her muddled mind. While definitely an odd choice for a ringtone, it never failed to crack through daily noise and catch her attention. It was a ringtone that demanded an answer. Floundering for the phone blindly she found it just long enough to smash the screen in the right direction to answer and turn on the speakerphone. Then she just dropped it back on the bed beside her and threw a lazy arm over her eyes.

A familiar sing-song voice demanded, “Honey, are you asleep? It’s two thirty in the afternoon. I’m downstairs, can you let me in?”

Sarah snapped up immediately. That explained the searing bright light that was burning her retinas when she woke up. “Shit. I’m coming.”

As she crawled out of bed, she wondered what the woman could possibly want.

“What’s love got to do with it?” Eva London was probably as unaware of the lyrical significance as she was about how awful that sounded coming from a mother’s mouth.

Her newest boy toy, Steven, was all of twenty-six, just a few years older than Sarah, and he was waiting out in her mint green Mazda convertible.

“I just wanted to stop by and see my baby girl before leaving for Portland. I didn’t come to get your approval.” She said the last with a southern twang that developed out of nowhere just seconds before. Loving this woman required a healthy ability to suspend belief in anything she said or did.

Sarah sighed. Her father was an asshole, but he was right about one thing. Trying to understand Eva was futile. “I thought you liked David. He was really nice.”

“Too nice. Love is a freaky thing!” There was another one. Some days, Sarah was sure that Eva’s life was just one long cheesy soundtrack. At this point, Sarah did the best thing she could do. She slid into her computer chair and started browsing the internet. It wouldn’t take long for Eva to get bored and leave.

There was an awkward silence filled with nothing but the occasional mouse click before Eva asked, “Does Doug still give you a hard time?”

Douglas Hale was Eva’s first and, as of yet, longest husband. He also happened to be Sarah’s father, although he questioned her validity constantly. It was an empty insult since he’d had paternity tests performed before the divorce was even final.

“Only when I visit.”

“It’s all lies, Sweetie. I loved your father, and I still do.”

“I thought you loved Harvey, Greg, David, and Steven too.”

Sarah heard the crinkle of another bribe before she even saw it. Eva sat the large gift bag on the desk next to her. “You know, Sarah, love is…a battlefield.” Most likely at a loss for anything more insightful to say about it, Eva rushed on to say, “This is for your birthday. I’ve got to be going.”

“My birthday isn’t-“

“I know. I’m giving it to you early.”

Ah, Sarah thought as she reached for her headphones. “You won’t be back by March.”

The silence was answer enough.

“I got the size right this time. Wear it out for your birthday. You’re so pretty when you try.” With that, Sarah opened Pandora and pretended to be engrossed with the screen.

About an hour later, Sarah finally removed her headset and looked around her room. As expected, Eva had gone, and in her place was Sarah’s roommate and best friend Miranda, who lay in the adjacent bed reading. Miranda was a girl with long dark hair and an amazing rack, which had been the bane of her existence since middle school. While Miranda had a beautiful Greek face and an outstanding mind, both were overshadowed by the twins on her chest.

“When did you get here?” Sarah crawled over a stack of clean clothes to lay on her own bed.

Miranda looked up from her book and smiled. “Oh, about the same time Eva left. Was that her new one?”

“Steven.”

Miranda smirked. “How do you know I wasn’t talking about her car?”

“Because the car is one of the only things she hasn’t changed every six months.”

“I know, right? What’s in the bag?” She asked, nodding towards the desk.

“My early birthday present.”

Miranda was already across the room, rustling through the peppermint-scented packing paper. “Holy crapola, Sis. Look. At. THIS!” She turned and held the dress out for Sarah to see. The motion made the gold sequins dance; they glittered and melted the cold fluorescent light from the desk into tiny little gold sparkles throughout the rest of the room.

Sarah groaned, “Are you kidding me? What am I supposed to do with that?”

Miranda folded it as neatly as she could and slid it back into the bag. “Hell if I know, but it’s pretty. Doesn’t she realize this town is lucky to have a Walmart? What are you going to do, strut this baby through the ice cream aisle?”

“Would you be my effects coordinator? You could just open a few freezer doors for the breeze and I could stand with my hands on my hips. Wonder Woman would be envious.” Sarah couldn’t help but grin.

“You know it.” Miranda plopped back on her bed. “Actually, I know one place you could wear it.”

“Oh?”

“There’s that New Year’s thing coming up Wednesday. “

“Hmm.” Despite the small jump in her chest at the idea of going to a masquerade, Sarah hesitated.

“It could be fun,” Miranda said in a sing-song voice before she added the final layer to the proverbial cake. “You’ll have a mask. No one will know who you are.”

Sarah hesitated. “I’m not worried about anyone knowing who I am. The hotel is forty minutes from here.”

“Come on, Sarah.” Miranda’s coercion skills were legendary. “This is your chance to see if there’s anything to your dreams. It could be a sign.”

“It’s not a sign,” Sarah insisted, turning back to her computer screen. But I’ll go. It could be fun.”

Unfortunately, being anonymous-a social butterfly does not make. Sarah stood in the darkest corner she could with her arms crossed over her chest. She looked like a golden inferno thanks to her friend, Joey, who had turned her carrot catastrophe into flaming curls. The dress did everything else. The neckline plunged so deep that Sarah felt like if she’d had anything substantial, it would have fallen out. The back was entirely bare but Sarah was in luck, what she was lacking in bust, she made up for in butt and it held the dress in place.

It drew quite a bit of attention when she had walked in arm in arm with Miranda, who sported a long black number with a slit to her thigh and while she had stayed away from any kind of V-Neck, her twins dictated a certain amount of property on their own that ended up with an ample amount of skin showing.

Both of them received numerous invitations to dance, which was what Miranda did, but Sarah just tightened her grip across her chest and shook her head. She even surprised herself at what a complete coward she was. She had a flaming red mask that hid more than half of her face and yet even when her feet itched to dance, she said no. Instead, she watched the curious sway of bodies. Somehow, all the men looked handsome when shrouded in mystery. However, her eyes kept returning to a Roman soldier whose costume couldn’t hide a strong jaw and lean thighs.

“Wanna dance?” The voice broke her reverie. A caveman with a goatee that looked like he was having trouble passing puberty swayed close to her. She gave him a slight push to straighten him up, but he was so drunk that he swung too far and slid down the wall behind them.

“Come on, baby.” He whined as he fought to straighten up. “You don’t come to a party dressed like that just to sit against the wall.”

| Roman |

The pixie in his arms smelled like Everclear and Chanel No. 5, which, when combined, smelled worse than horse piss. If it weren’t for the utter rage shuddering from her boyfriend dressed like a leaf warrior, Roman would have steered clear. As it was, every time her hand fluttered over his gold chest plate, or she tilted her head in the invitation, he felt a tingle of pleasure at the base of his skull as the boyfriend’s envy and wrath crept through him. Disgust stirred in his stomach. There was a time when he was a lion, feasting on the depravity of the newly fallen. Yet here he was, using shallow tricks for cheap thrills.

“I need a drink.” Roman dropped the pixie as soon as the song came to an end. He vaguely heard her whiny voice as he walked away, but he blocked it out. There was nothing left to gain from her or her boyfriend.

The only salvation to be found was that the bartender knew how to make a mojito. As he ordered his drink, he noticed a caveman romancing a fiery phoenix. Women these days had no class. Whether they were graced with beauty or not, the very fact that they were female granted them the power to move mountains and yet they wasted it on the very specimens that nature tried hard to eliminate.

“Please stop. I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

Strong words for a bird. The caveman had a grip on her arm and his face buried in her hair. He was juiced, and yet she was barely fending him off. Maybe Nature would win this round.

Roman heard a startled yelp, and the man crumbled to the ground, clutching at his crotch. Roman chuckled and turned away to scan the room and take a drink. Then he heard another cry, this time from her and his eyes snapped back.

The caveman had regained his senses although he sported a limp now, likely from his damaged goods. He had a hard grip on her arm and he was dragging her towards one of the side rooms. Roman’s lips tightened in annoyance but he closed his eyes and stood completely still.

If he were lucky, he could use this to his advantage. He allowed his senses to unfurl toward the retreating couple. He felt nothing from the man; he was just another bane on existence, but he felt a responding tingle from the bird. Perhaps tonight wouldn’t be such a pain after all.

| Sarah |

Sarah tried to walk away but he had a firm grip on her wrist. Too firm for someone who was falling around like a lush moments before. Her eyes flew to his face and she saw a slight smirk on his lips and gleem in his eyes. He turned and started pulling her towards one of the side rooms.

“Let go,” she said, no longer whispering. “Let go, or I’ll scream.”

“Scream, then. No one will hear you over the music.”

Shit. She dug her feet in and jerked. She must have caught him by surprise because her wrist snapped free and she lost her balance, colliding with someone behind her.

| Roman |

“If you wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask.” Roman mocked even as he caught her and helped her upright.

“Fuck off, man. She’s mine.” The caveman stepped forward to grab her again but stopped suddenly when he looked at Roman. Roman smiled slowly, letting the illusion drop from his eyes to reveal their true color. The caveman’s mouth opened as if to speak and then closed. Then he turned and limped away. For Roman, the more sin they had, the easier they were to control.

Finally alone with the bird, Roman drew in a slow breath through his lips. Her innocence tasted like minty white chocolate. A long-forgotten feeling shuddered through him. For the first time in ages, he wanted to touch her almost as much as he wanted to destroy her.

He would have to make this one last.

| Sarah |

Sarah could still feel her savior close behind her. She turned around slowly to find the Roman soldier close enough to smell, close enough to see the stubble on his chin, and see the most beautiful electric blue eyes.

“Shall we?” He prompted and slid an arm around her waist. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled her into the dancing bodies.

They were dancing too close. Sarah was torn between pushing him away and melting into the dance. It wasn’t that she hated to be touched, but his hand was flush against the bare skin of her back and when they turned, she felt the cool metal of his armor on her stomach. It was distracting and under his scrutiny, she couldn’t hide her flushed cheeks. Then she didn’t have to because he pulled her closer. She gave in and closed her eyes as the music lulled her mind.

| Roman |

Roman felt her slump in his arms and frowned. She was completely lax in his arms and when he leaned her back, he had to grab her neck to hold her up. Asleep. The bird had actually fallen asleep in the middle of the dance floor. He looked around, but it was too late to send her back to the caveman.

For fuck’s sake. He grabbed her jaw and tilted her face to get a good look at it and tried to ignore the tingle in his fingers. She was pretty enough, but how hard would it be to make her fall? Maybe harder because she was daft, he mused. He traced the curve of her neck and felt his pulse quicken strangely. Either way, he could afford a little vacation from work.

“Is that Sarah?” A brunette in a black dress untangled herself from a national guardsman and looked up at Roman with a raised eyebrow.

“Is that her name?” He smiled wide enough to show his teeth. It grated against his nerves, but he found that such a simple thing disarmed even the smartest human without using any of his abilities. “She must have been really tired. Where are you two from?”

The lavish colors swirled around her so fast that her senses couldn’t keep up. Each flash of gold and whisper of red danced in and out of the spiraling darkness like sunset on dark water. With each swing she was enfolded and brought close enough to feel the feathers of her mask shift and inhale a slight trace of vanilla then set free in time to see the colors swirl again.

The arms around her tightened, making it harder to search for the blue-eyed man. When the time came to shift away, her dance partner did not let go. This abrupt change made her look up at him for the first time. No eyes. She should have known. But unlike the expressionless masks worn by the others, his mask was smiling. In a room filled with monstrosities, this smile was more disturbing and surreal than all of them combined. She couldn’t help but look away. Blue. Again, she tried to turn and follow but was restrained. Suddenly terrified of the once firm but now restricting arms, she started struggling. It seemed impossible until they collided with another masked couple who clung to them with drunken cackles and smelled like cheap whisky and dusty velvet.

She took that opportunity to break away and run through the bodies, looking for a flash of blue eyes or a face that was not synthetic. There… leaving through a red velvet door to her right. Just as she reached the door, a hand on her arm held her back. Then another one touched her shoulder, then her back. Feeling so many hands begin to shuffle and grab at her; she looked back to see the sinister smile and a mass of soulless animals. A scream built up in her throat as they closed in.

“Sarah… Sarah?” Her eyes opened to find Miranda looking down at her. “Are you having that dream again? Why can’t you have normal dreams like I do? Young Antonio Banderas and I were playing hide the salami when all the sudden I hear you scream and not the good kind I might add- else I’d pretend I didn’t hear.”

Sarah rolled on her back and put a hand on her heart while she tried to slow her wild pulse by taking slow, deep breaths. Miranda’s voice was almost drowned out by the noise. When she felt like she could talk without her voice shaking, she replied, “How did I get home? What happened?”

“Ah girl, you must have drank a lot.”

“I didn’t drink at all. I passed out?” Sarah pushed her sweat-damped hair out of her face.

“So hard you snored.” Miranda’s lip curled upwards just slightly.

No way. “I did not.”

“You did not, but you could have. You were dancing it up with a hottie and you fell asleep. This is why you’re still single.”

Sarah groaned and slumped over, pillow and all. “He had blue eyes, right?”

“I think so. I can’t remember.”

“How could you forget? They were unreal.” She blushed, her embarrassment forgotten. She likely wouldn’t see him again anyway. “They were so unreal that I dreamt about them. He was the dream.”

“Wow…already?” Miranda asked as she stepped back and flomped on the bed behind her. “I thought you were only into gay guys.” With that, a small pillow hit her chest and tumbled down to her lap. It might have been in the face if Sarah hadn’t been still lying in bed and reluctant to get up.

“You’re such a bitch. I can’t help it if I have a lot in common with a gay man. Joey’s the only reason I look decent enough to be out in public, and he’s gorgeous. I’m just lucky we don’t have the same taste in men.”

Miranda pouted. “You’ve never said that about me.”

“Because I don’t want your head to get as big as your boobs.”

Miranda leaned over and whomped her on the leg with her pillow. “I’m going back to bed, where Antonio Banderas will lick my wounded pride, and I’ll continue my search for the sacred salami.”