Maquis

“We’d like to welcome Dianne Hart to the stage!”, the announcement was met with enthusiasm.

Smoke hung low in the Parisian nightclub. As Dianne Hart stepped up to the microphone. Her gold accents glittered in the light as her rose red lips gave a coy smile to the audience. The piano started up a melancholy tune as she began to sing:

“They made a statue of us

And it put it on a mountain top”

Hart watched all of the men in the room. She was to meet her contact here, after the night was over. It was easy for her to pick out the German officers, their sharp uniforms distinct even in the haze.

“They'll name a city after us

And later say it's all our fault”

She had a beautiful stage presence, which was accented by her unusual choice in color for her ensemble. The beautiful olive green of her dress was complimented by her locks of chestnut hair, creating an air of mysterious vitality.

“We're living in a den of thieves

Rummaging for answers in the pages”

It was impossible to know whom, if any of the crowd were from the Maquis. She desperately wanted to be part of this resistance. The Nazis had vitiate her family, she would take her revenge.

“We wear our scarves just like a noose

But not 'cause we want eternal sleep”*

Dianne Hart was just beginning her journey into this world.

*Song Lyrics from Regina Spektor’s song “Us”

Mirror

There is something wrong with the mirror in the attic. We completed the sale of this old manor home months ago, and it has taken this long just to make it up to the top.

There are actually a half dozen mirrors up here, all of which seem normal, but the big gilded antique mirror seems off. I can’t see my reflection.

I can see my reflections in all of the other mirrors, but when I stand before the large mirror it is gone. I reached up to touch its surface, but it wasn’t solid. My hand passed through.

I could feel my eyes light up! I’ve heard of fantastic portals before, in literature and lore. But to find something real, sounds impossible.

I stepped through all excited, expecting a coruscating change in light or sound, something miraculous to happen.

I was a little disappointed. It is the same attic as the one I left. The only difference is that I had a terrible foreboding. I went to the small window and looked down.

My face grew pale at the sight below. It was was a scene that gave hideous allusions to the French Revolution. There was a river of blood in the street, and piles of slumped bodies on the lawn.  

I rushed back to the large mirror only to see my reflection pick up a wooden chair and smash the frame to pieces.

I was never going home.   

Tiarra

It was her coronation day. She didn’t want it to be. It should have been 20 or 30 years from now, when her mother passed away from old age, surrounded by a dozen grandchildren.

Three days ago she had died in an accident, helping a camp of refugee women and children flee to safety from the rising flood waters.

Her funeral was this morning, it both simple and beautiful, a fitting tribute to a magnificent queen, a doting mother and a glowing individual. The sun shone upon her subjects and glittered off of the sea.

The ceremonial boat that carried her mother into the depths of the sea had fractured Jasmine’s heart. She wanted to cry, her body ached to heave and weep at the shores of the sea. Not in front of her people, her mother would be disappointed in her if she did.

As the coronation drew closer the clouds formed an opacus over the evening sky. The wind stirred and the sea grew choppy. Then her second cousin, the grand high priestess, stepped forward with the royal crown. It was a weave of shells, diamonds, pearls, and silver. A precious treasure that had been in their family for generations.

It was slowly placed down on Jasmine’s head.

It was as if she had pressed a thousand seashells to her ears. Hundreds of whispers flooded through her ears.

The one that stood out the most was her mother's.

En Gardé

10 breaths to calm my soul and still my thrumming heart. It is one thing to run away with what you love, it’s another to let it drag you down a path you don’t want to go. The key is to be calm and let the storm of emotions rage outside.

9 micro stretches to warm the quivering muscles who have become tight as piano wires in anticipation.

8 unnecessary titivations. They don’t improve my performance but they channel my warspirit and help me feel beautiful.

7 chakras to remember and respect. If all are balanced then the rest of life can be maintained and endured.

6 tactics that I have practiced time and time again. I will never get tired of practicing these, since if one turns into a mistake it could cost me everything.

5 terrible memories replayed to remind myself of the importance of patience. Patience to learn, patience to forgive, patience to overcome, patience to grow and patience to become better.

4 smiles to brighten this event. One from the heart, a second from the head, the third from the body and the brightest from the soul.

3 waves of excitement. Each one building to the next and cresting on a glorious high.  

2 friends who will always be with me even if they will never again be by my side.

1 mantra “You do this because you love it, love it because you do it.”