talents.”
“Wait.” Sinna jumped to his feet, then
quickly glanced at Demi and pressed his hand to his mouth. “No,
nothing. Sorry about that,” he murmured through his fingers.
He must have wanted to tell Fox and Demi
about the nightmare he’d made for me. Why’d he stopped? Maybe I should tell them…or maybe I should wait. Right now Demi
just might kill me if she learned Sinna and I had shared more than
a kiss.
Fox returned to his spiel, “So, as I said
earlier, the dream people might have gotten our gifts wrong, and if
we don’t perform real soon, Horgreth will have us killed and fed to
those rottweilers. That’s the small problem.”
I suddenly recalled the ice I had tasted that
morning. Yes, I’d felt the hard, cold chips on my tongue, and I’d
known the people around me were frightened, which could only mean
that I had sensed their emotions and that the butterfly woman had
been right: I was becoming a heart!
Fox plowed on, “Now, the big problem I
explained to you many times before, but it bears repeating because
that’s how kids learn. Ever-Jezebel, all the hearts who have ever
lived have turned evil. Catherine the Great, Queen Victoria,
Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin. They butchered millions. And you can
only do something like this if you don’t have to feel rotten about
it afterward. I guess they simply channeled happiness into
themselves after the deed and went right ahead with their day. And
I’m sure they didn’t start out that way, they weren’t born horrid
monsters, but if you can play with your feelings—create them, erase
them, channel them—then how long will it be before you start
cutting ethical corners, hmm?”
I stood silent. There had been decent
hearts—must have been—even if we’d never heard about them.
Fox sighed. “And I know my own moral
standards are awfully low because, given an opportunity, I would
not hold back from ripping any gift trafficker into bits the size
of our keyhole. Nor would I stop you from channeling pain into
them. Save for one catch . If you channel torture, it’ll be
all agony in your nerves. No love for me at all. Then, of course,
you’ll kill the pain and you’ll love me again, but with time—and I
can only imagine how dreadfully short that time will be—you’ll feel
that your love for me is just another feeling, nothing special, and
why even go back to it if your feelings are your juggling pins? And
then, with no goodness in you and no love, you’ll abandon me, and
I—” His voice broke, and he pulled me into a crushing hug. “I will
die without you.”
Terrified, I hugged him back.
“So, you see that I’m right, don’t you?” he
said.
Yes, I saw it; his words were logical; it all
made sense. I nodded into his chest, and he kissed the top of my
head. “Good girl. I love you.”
“Well, that settles it.” Demi stomped in her
new cardboard soles, testing them. “We’re escaping tonight. And we
are going to make it.”
***
Thank you for reading!
Into the Blind is available for purchase on
Amazon.com.
About
the Author
Helen Rena loves reading and writing novels.
And short stories. And flash fiction. She has a Ph.D. in
Comparative Literature, and a vast collection of books and green
bottles. She is still not sure why green bottles. She lives in
Southern Oregon with her husband and two children. Please visit her
at helenrena.com .
“Wait.” Sinna jumped to his feet, then
quickly glanced at Demi and pressed his hand to his mouth. “No,
nothing. Sorry about that,” he murmured through his fingers.
He must have wanted to tell Fox and Demi
about the nightmare he’d made for me. Why’d he stopped? Maybe I should tell them…or maybe I should wait. Right now Demi
just might kill me if she learned Sinna and I had shared more than
a kiss.
Fox returned to his spiel, “So, as I said
earlier, the dream people might have gotten our gifts wrong, and if
we don’t perform real soon, Horgreth will have us killed and fed to
those rottweilers. That’s the small problem.”
I suddenly recalled the ice I had tasted that
morning. Yes, I’d felt the hard, cold chips on my tongue, and I’d
known the people around me were frightened, which could only mean
that I had sensed their emotions and that the butterfly woman had
been right: I was becoming a heart!
Fox plowed on, “Now, the big problem I
explained to you many times before, but it bears repeating because
that’s how kids learn. Ever-Jezebel, all the hearts who have ever
lived have turned evil. Catherine the Great, Queen Victoria,
Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin. They butchered millions. And you can
only do something like this if you don’t have to feel rotten about
it afterward. I guess they simply channeled happiness into
themselves after the deed and went right ahead with their day. And
I’m sure they didn’t start out that way, they weren’t born horrid
monsters, but if you can play with your feelings—create them, erase
them, channel them—then how long will it be before you start
cutting ethical corners, hmm?”
I stood silent. There had been decent
hearts—must have been—even if we’d never heard about them.
Fox sighed. “And I know my own moral
standards are awfully low because, given an opportunity, I would
not hold back from ripping any gift trafficker into bits the size
of our keyhole. Nor would I stop you from channeling pain into
them. Save for one catch . If you channel torture, it’ll be
all agony in your nerves. No love for me at all. Then, of course,
you’ll kill the pain and you’ll love me again, but with time—and I
can only imagine how dreadfully short that time will be—you’ll feel
that your love for me is just another feeling, nothing special, and
why even go back to it if your feelings are your juggling pins? And
then, with no goodness in you and no love, you’ll abandon me, and
I—” His voice broke, and he pulled me into a crushing hug. “I will
die without you.”
Terrified, I hugged him back.
“So, you see that I’m right, don’t you?” he
said.
Yes, I saw it; his words were logical; it all
made sense. I nodded into his chest, and he kissed the top of my
head. “Good girl. I love you.”
“Well, that settles it.” Demi stomped in her
new cardboard soles, testing them. “We’re escaping tonight. And we
are going to make it.”
***
Thank you for reading!
Into the Blind is available for purchase on
Amazon.com.
About
the Author
Helen Rena loves reading and writing novels.
And short stories. And flash fiction. She has a Ph.D. in
Comparative Literature, and a vast collection of books and green
bottles. She is still not sure why green bottles. She lives in
Southern Oregon with her husband and two children. Please visit her
at helenrena.com .
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