My Dark Prince

Staring at my screen, I tried to force my mental block away. I’ve been sitting here almost two hours and still nothing. My deadline is less than three months away, and I have yet to figure out the ending of my latest work of art. Following my mother’s advice, I purchased a sage bundle at the closest Spencer’s. I came home to the two-bedroom apartment that I shared with my red-nosed husky, Siree, and longtime friend Tiffany. Mom had told me to open the windows and smudge the whole apartment to relieve any spiritual blockage the apartment could be harboring. Then she said to light some lavender candles to keep yourself calm. So why is the only thing I have achieved is running Tiff out of the apartment for a couple of hours. “Come on, Rey,” I said to myself, out loud. “Think!” Taping my fingers on the keyboard, hoping they might know what to do on their own. I’ve been racking my brain trying to find a groove and get my imagination back flowing. Considering my previous history of novels, they were ecstatic when I sent them a piece of my most recent romance-thriller. Who wouldn’t? I, myself, was eager to see how it would end. My heroine, Maria, was cryo-genetically frozen and wakes up in the year 3004, to a futuristic world, which isn’t a ‘world’ at all. It’s a part of a spaceship about the size of Alaska, without all the harshness of its winter. Accommodated with its own solar heating system, Maria is lost in fascination before realizing she wasn’t alone. Upon awakening, she discovers other species, still frozen, in what she later finds out to be pods. Species, as in other than human? Yes. Some with four arms and three eyes, some had webbed fingers with some sort of slime dripping from them and all of them were still frozen in their own individual pod. All the pods were closed. All but one. Assuming the worst, she panics and proceeds to search for a way out. That is, until literally running into a snarling parasitic giant worm. With her back to the wall and her face inches away from yellowed five-inch teeth, she sees her life, or what she remembered of it, flash before her eyes. And as she turns her head away from the creature, it lets out a blood-curdling screech. The next thing she knows it explodes in a flash of bright red light followed by the sound of bits and pieces as they plop on the ground in front of her. A very irritated male voice comes to her with the question “Were you just going to let it eat you?”. Looking around for the source the voice had come from, she finds another human. A man. But this man wasn’t dressed in anything she'd seen before. He was in some form of wickedly cool space suit. She noted in her head that it looks like something of a cross between Halo and Tron. But not quite either. It was the strangest thing she had ever seen. He later informs her of the year and that she’d been in the sleeping pod for almost a thousand years. He almost tells her some more alarming news. That this is a mistake, and if it wasn’t, then it goes against the ‘Galactic Code of Ethics’. Which, in this time, is the highest offense an Other, could make. An Other is the term I devised to form anything in my book other than human. Not the most creative, but I thought it was clever enough. And I guess the publisher thought so too. Within an hour, they had contacted me back. Lucie, my publisher, said she couldn’t wait to see how it would turn out and that she would be patiently waiting for the finished product of my creative masterpiece. Hearing her excitement filled me to the brim with joy. It made me happy to hear that someone enjoyed reading my books, just as much as I had enjoyed writing them. But here lately, I’ve been having a problem with some of the slower, less action-packed parts. Just as most writers do. I wish it was that simple. But the fact of the matter was, in the midst of writers’ block, I have a suspicion that my roommate is sleeping with my ex. Shocking considering she claims to not be anything more than friends. And to top it off, has recently asked me to move out. Talk about mind-boggling. She had complained, almost the entire time we dated, that he was a prick and then, all of a sudden, they were all buddy-buddy when I broke it off when he tried to give me an ultimatum. Key word: tried. He had come to the apartment after a night of drinking at some ‘buddies’ house. I imagined he had come for a drunk late-night quickie, but that wasn’t the case. He was barely able to hold a tangible sentence between a bunch of fumbling followed by stuttering over simple syllables. I was finally able to comprehend what he was trying to conclude. It was either him or my books. Unable to help myself, a smile came across my face and I laughed as I slammed the door in his face. He just didn’t get it. Reading and writing were a major part of who I was. I felt like I was nothing without it. How were we supposed to be together if he only wanted me to be nothing? Why not all of me? Why did he get to decide what was important to me? I didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself the morning after. Especially considering he was hungover from hell and proceeded to curse me on the phone when I told him he didn’t own me. Looking down at Siree, I smiled at her. That smug bastard. That b***h. Together. And what was funny about my best friend with my ex? The fact that they thought I didn’t know. I had been thinking about it since I found out. It made me feel sick to my stomach. The more I thought about it, the sicker it made me feel. The sicker I felt, the more I thought of leaving Tiff and dickhead to struggle to keep the apartment. I paid half the rent, and she sure didn’t make enough on her own to pay the entirety of it. So, I don’t know what they are going to do with him not having a job. That’s most definitely not my problem. But as they say, karma is a b***h. And of course, she is! Being that, this is how I’m thinking. Because little does Tiff know that I have been trying to find one that was decent and in my price range. And if they were decent, it seemed they all had a strict ‘no dog’ policy. I absolutely could not leave Siree behind. I loved her so much. Jason had told me I could bring her to his house, but then I wouldn’t get to play with her and have her resting beside my feet as I typed and deleted phrases from my book. I wouldn’t have her comforting me when I’d become so frustrated, I wanted to throw away my laptop. I left like she needed me as much as I needed her. On the way home one night, after about an hour of driving from my parents’ house, I found her. She had been hit by a vehicle and left for dead. She was only a puppy. I scooped her up in my arms, and she let out a few scared cries. Or yelps of pain. I’m not sure. But I cradled her in my arms the rest of my rushed drive to the all-night animal hospital. When I got there, I wasn’t sure she was going to make it. The head vet didn’t think so either but told me she’d do her best. I stayed pacing by the operating room until the light went off. The vet came out with a grim expression but said she was stable. I remember the wave of relief washing over me. The vet told me if she made it through the night, she had a fighting chance. I stood by the window the rest of the night, praying for a miracle. Or I had planned to, the nurse on duty told me to go home and get some rest and if anything changed, they would contact me. Before I left, they asked for her name, shocked to find out she wasn’t my dog and asked why I had paid for treatment for a dog that wasn’t mine. I told them it was the right thing to do. She told me that since I had paid for treatment for the stray puppy that I should name her and take her home, if she made it. After finding out she had pulled through the night, it took some convincing, but our landlord agreed to allow us to have her, with a thousand-dollar deposit, of course. After that, Siree has always been there to comfort me. We have been inseparable. Though I trust Jason and Natalie to take care of her, I would definitely have separation anxiety. So that’s not going to happen. Jason had also said mom and dad would take her, but again, I would have separation anxiety. So that’s out. Unless I move back home too. Jason said mom had kept our rooms the way we had left them. The amount of land the house was on was more than enough, even substantially better than what she had now. Parts thick with trees for her to run through. As long as I could keep her from tearing up daddy’s garden. And I would love to have some of daddy’s garden fresh vegetable soup. “Mmm.” I hummed, licking my lips. And smelling mom’s beautiful flowers. She had all types of flowers. She had roses, in a wide variety. Small purple ones, red and white, white with pink tips, and so many more. But my favorite was her Sarah Bernhardt Peonies. In my opinion, this was the prettiest flower. And mom has several of them because she knows that. Mom would understand my reason for breaking up with Dan more than anyone. Not just because she’s my mom, but she is also a writer. She would know exactly what I needed right now. She would hear my side of the story and beg me immediately to move back home. She would tell daddy that sometimes mama knows best, and just like that, one of my problems would be gone. Still smiling at Siree, I nod. I have decided. Tonight, I will talk to mom about moving back home.