Finding Shade

“You do not belong here,” a smoky voice said.
Shade awoke with eyes wide and heart pounding. The voice had rescued her.

The dream replayed itself quickly in her mind:

She had been thrashing in something thick, ferocious and desperate to claim her. She tried propelling forward but could not. Glancing down to her waistline, she could see a thick skin of green, blue and threads of gold that appeared grafted on to her lower body.
She was half fish and was sinking in something like quicksand “red, coarse and sickeningly warm.” As she threw her head back, her body slipped quickly into the muck. The reddish, brown sludge began to form a circle around her face that was now the only flesh exposed to any hope of life. Her thoughts turned to despair and guilt; everything that once moved and excited her soul was no more.

In the divot above her once visible lips the horrid, thick liquid pooled, ready to begin a transfusion of blackness into her numb and hollow soul. She decided to accept this fate. Her body was finally becoming one with her spirit. Wasn’t this what she had always wanted to become one with her spirit? It was fitting…very fitting.

Gasping at the stale air and spitting gritty sand; she felt her body suddenly being turned and lifted upward by energy that seemed to move and think for her. She could feel an arm encircle her small waist yet she could not see whose arm. Instinctively she clung to her invisible rescuer.

Looking down she could see that the shimmering flesh of her lower body had begun to fall away, revealing her own legs. The humanness of them seemed strange to her. The pool of death below began to bubble and rising up from it were ugly bony hands that felt like coarse sand paper on her legs, as they tried to pull her back under.

A spiraling fountain of fresh, clean water traveled down her body and as she continued to be pulled upward. The hands retreated back into the depth; releasing the raking grip they had on her limbs. Finally the pulling and circling ceased. Shade’s near lifeless body was now suspended in space; her head bobbed forward, up, and to the side as she fought to focus but could not. Invisible fingers lifted and steadied her chin. The breath of a man moved upon her neck and then close to her ear. His voice spoke gently and firmly, "Shade, you do not belong here." She could feel flesh touch her cheek as his words lingered in her ear. She wanted to respond but was paralyzed with weakness.


The Voice she recognized from childhood, a voice she had not heard in twenty five years.
At the age of ten, her mother Cate had taken her on a road trip. Cate heard Shade giggling and laughing in the backseat. She looked in her rear view mirror and saw know one, but recognized the presence that entertained her daughter from her own childhood.



That night her Shade’s mother told her the story of Milo. He was the only male muse ever to walk the face of the earth. In the beginning there were nine muses, all had been females. Each of them inspiring a different art in a human’s soul. According to Cate, Milo was the muse of all the females in Cates ancestry, he was there to protect and inspire them on this trip.

Milo was blessed with each of the nine gifts enjoyed by the original muses. Because of his power, immense confidence and charm, restrictions had to be put on the slightly wild muse. He was not allowed to be seen in the flesh by his subject, or he would be forced into the life of a mortal man, die like a mortal man and be banned from his people forever. His mother Effie thought this curse kept him in check for the most part. Effie noticed that since he had taken on Shade, he seemed to be getting careless. She feared for the soul of her only son.

The Muse pulled Shade firmly against him. "I want you to listen to me, look,"
Her eyes were heavy and unfocused, her breath shallow. "Look, Shade… look. " A fleeting taste of annoyance moved over her as she struggled to focus on something that she felt but could not see. He turned her head gently so that she faced and looked into the distance towards what seemed to be a great body of water. Upon her other cheek she felt his breathe again. "You must go there," he said with certainty. Shade tried to speak, her lips barely parting and unable to bring forth words, simply closed again. He steadied her chin with one hand and brushed the hair from her eyes with the other, his lips nearly touched hers. "You do not belong here," the voice gently whispered to her soul.

***
As quickly as she had recalled the dream, it had begun to dissipate into pieces of leftover emotions that would not quite settle.

She switched on the bed lamp and pushed the covers away from her body. Shade was relieved to see her own legs. She drew them to her chest as if protecting them from something that threatened. Taking a deep breath she pushed the long auburn hair that clung to her damp cheeks, back and up and with natural skill whipped it into a knot that sat precariously on top of her head. She let her eyes move around the room. The soft eerie sounds of an owl could be heard outside the open window and the only movement was a breeze, barely lifting the sheer white curtains…up and then …down. No one was there, she was alone, she was always alone...she swallowed at that thought with difficulty.

Walking cautiously to the wooden framed mirror she tilted it slightly. Lifting her nightgown to her waist she curiously moved a hand over each shapely leg, relieved at what she did not see or feel. Shade held her hand up in front of her face turning it front and back looking at it as if for the first time. Moving close enough to place breath on the mirror, she squinted hard at her reflection. She ran her tongue over her teeth expecting to feel something gritty not knowing what or why. Looking deep into her own eyes she saw something or someone, she thought she did…it was him, the invisible one, the voice who … and then he was gone.
She turned quickly around, looking again at the room. As she did the knot that held her hair came undone, spilling and cascading over her face. Milo moved away from her eyes; he knew he was invisible to her yet there was a reason why the eyes were called the windows of the soul. He could not risk Shade seeing him. Somehow he had to persuade her to go to the ocean. She was not an easy subject to get near to. As time went on it became even more difficult, despite his own confidence and charming efforts to inspire.

Milo walked around her, watching her closely. She was so lovely, her pixy fairy like features, soft brown almond shaped eyes and creamy skin. As she lifted the light blue nightgown over her head, Milo moved the fabric with his thoughts; motioning with his hands the gown obeyed by slipping gently off of Shade’s shoulders it's silkiness barley kissing her spine as the garment made it’s way to the ground, causing a sensuous shiver, Shade perceived as a breeze.

Visions of the ocean at once filled her head; it had been a very long time since she had been to the Ocean. “Maybe I will go for a few days,” and in a childlike manner, Shade spun around in a circle, proclaiming to no one, at least no one that was visible anyway… "Yes, that is what I will do, take a day or two off and go to the beach.” The spontaneous decision caused a warmth an excitement deep within.

Milo accepted full credit for Shade’s sudden moment of inspiration. Taking a turn at the mirror, the muse smiled dangerously and ran a finger across his dark black mustache.
Though centuries old, Milo did not look a day over forty and he knew it. Wrapped in the demeanor and slightly rogue style of his gypsy father, Vigoe and possessing the drop dead gorgeous looks of his elegant mother Effie.

Milo rested on the bed, his hands behind his head and legs stretched and crossed. He watched Shade closely and with curiosity as she packed her bag. It was not often he got to watch her in the nude. His dark eyes widened and sparkled; from the perfect angular cheekbones hung a mischievous smile that deepened each time she held up a scant garment, as if asking for his approval before placing them in her bag. Milo took Shade fully into his mind instead of going into hers. As she bent to put on her jeans he watched the way her long hair teased her breast, the shimmering mane moving sensually over ivory skin. His eyes moved down to the gentle curves of her torso, watching the involuntary movement of her taut muscles as she lifted her arms to pull on her t-shirt.
His mind began to write freestyle poetry with the pureness he saw in her beauty and sensuality.

The smell of Shade’s skin entered his soul as he walked past her toward the window. Forcing himself to come back to earth. “Forgive me Mother,” he thought, knowing she would not approve of the way he tested his perimeters. But with Shade, he could not resist. Milo cursed Peter Pan’s odd luck that Wendy should be able to see Peter. He sat on the windowsill pondering and revising the famous fairy tale to his liking. “ Ah…I am a muse, not an angel,” as though the very thought sanctified him.

Looking out the window, he noticed the sun was just beginning to rise and for the
moment the world was very quiet, except for the soft hoot of the owl he had placed in the tree earlier, to call out to Shade. Forcing a serious face, the muse, tipped his well worn hat to her; deciding it would be best to take a walk and let the lady pack in peace. As he slipped out the window, a breeze moved through the bedroom and the owl called once again, further beckoning Shade to the sea.