It was a catastrophe. The panicked look in his eyes, the snarl of anger crossing his lips simultaneously, while his fists clenched and unclenched set off warnings like the air raid sirens of World War II. He was a bomb, and I had only seconds to diffuse the situation before I faced the full force of his verbal assault.

– H. Danielle Crabtree

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I stared at the ivory and black of the eighty-eight keys that stretched before me, remembering the sound of the instrument without striking a note. It had been years since I had played. At first it was because I was too busy: school, then work, then family. I never found the time to just be anymore, to exist in a state outside of myself. Playing had done that for me, taken me to a place beyond mortal constraints, beyond the tangible laws of physics that governed the universe. Music had always been my other dimension, and I had freed myself of daydreams when responsibility screamed louder. My life had become this rigid existence that offered less than an ounce of happiness, if I could even measure the emotion. I was frustrated to the point that I wanted to scream, to let go of everything that had wound me up like a top. It was why I was sitting here, staring at the one thing that had always let my troubles float away.

I cracked my knuckles, cringing at the deplorable sound, and placed all ten fingers upon the ivory. My form was sloppy, but even still, I allowed my slender fingers to press down just enough to illicit the sweetest tone, and then I pressed another, and another, until the cadence of a song I thought I had long forgotten flowed from the hundred-year-old piano. I closed my eyes, feeling my way down the scales in much the same way a hand knows that of a lover. I increased the tempo, letting it time with my resting heart rate. And that’s when I found the peace that could come from nowhere else. I was in another world, one not bound by the fabric of reality, only by the harmonics my ears could decipher.

– H. Danielle Crabtree

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There was danger in his eyes, the kind you only come face to face with in a nightmare. But this was a waking dream, evolving into reality, and there was no chance that I could pull my gun before he pounced.

I really wished I had waited for backup.

– H. Danielle Crabtree

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I could feel his presence over the hum of the pounding music. It was a tingle, electricity, which coursed through my body, sending every hair up on in its end. I spun around, looking for the source of his unearthly aura. He stood across the room; his figure was obscured by the crowd dancing to the techno beat. Yet, his blue eyes were lamps within the darkness. They held me, controlled me, made me spin, and terrified me. Power like this was a thing of myths. Electrifying, tangible connections were products of love stories and silly sonnets and songs. It had no place in real life, and I could not help the fear. It kept me from teetering over the edge of insanity. I could not allow this energy that always formed between us to send me cascading into oblivion. He was a friend, and he could only be a friend. But he held me like static, and I craved his shock like a junkie.

I could only imagine what it would be like if we ever actually touched.

– H. Danielle Crabtree

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Sometimes, it was as if I could feel the world spinning beneath my feet. The motion would make me queasy, like a carnival ride after a bad hot dog. I hated the feeling of unease, compounding to the point that I felt locked into the Earth’s will. And that’s when I would spin, with my arms extended until I moved faster than the chaotic, rotating world. In those moments, when my body became the axis, everything else felt as if it answered only to me. The power left me breathless; it brought joy to my heart as it took me back to the days when the sun seemed to rise and set for me, the time before deadlines, appointments and duty. And, for an instant, I reveled in that place before the nausea became an everyday ailment that made me lament becoming an adult.

– H. Danielle Crabtree

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There were moments that I swore I could see the dead. The shadow forms, the remnants of a life ghosting down a sidewalk or through my living room. The strange noises that permeated from the old floor boards as if someone was walking no longer fazed me. I welcomed these souls that felt the need to invade my private space. After all, we all need friends … even the dead.

– H. Danielle Crabtree

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I was use to the slow pace of life, when each day began and ended without deviation from the norm. It was a boring existence, but the quiet days and quieter nights left me with a sense of peace that had been absent in my younger years. I knew most people believed that I was a soft-spoken, unassuming woman, but the saying about the quiet ones being the wildest was true in my case. Someday those wild days of youthful indiscretion would catch up with me, and then my beautiful existence would be turned upside down. Until then, I was content to watch the sun rise with a cup of coffee, play with the dogs, and toil about the house. Living quietly was all she ever wanted, and it was for her that I played this part.

– H. Danielle Crabtree

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It was three in the morning, and I was awake — wide awake — staring out my front window at the incessant rain. The gentle cadence used to lull me to sleep as a child, but I no longer found comfort in the rain or the night. Too many evil things happened in the shadows, and I knew that my quarry was out there now slinking in the shadows. I knew what he wanted; I knew the strength of his impulses; and that he was one of the scariest sociopaths that I had ever had to profile.

I had barely slept since I took this case, and more often then not, I stood watching the darkness trying to out think someone who by definition was unpredictable. He was drawing me into his delusions, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my gift forced me to cross from the realm of sanity to illusion. He was breaking my mind the harder I tried to analyze him, and I knew the wisest choice would be to step away. But I couldn’t. He was the spider and I had become the fly. Unfortunately for the spider, this fly was about to destroy his web — I had found the loose thread.

– H. Danielle Crabtree

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Here goes:

My body ached, screaming although my voice remained silent. It heeded the desires of my heart that were silenced by my willful mind. I dismissed the possibility that asking him to stay would take away the pain and make me once again feel whole. It was ludicrous for me to ask. He had made his choice, and I had made mine. Our roads split along time ago, and I had known for awhile that it was only a matter of time before the distance between us became as vast as the Grand Canyon. There was no bridge across, and I was not about to kamikaze off the rim to reach him.

It wasn’t until the door shut that the ache of my body overcame my will. I crumpled to the floor, rolling into a ball. I sobbed like a fool while I tried to remind myself why I had chosen this solitary fate. My pride. My anger. How easy they overshadowed and destroyed love when allowed to root and fester. They had burned me from the inside out, and I understood now why I hurt. Without love, without him, I was but a shell — not living, only existing in world once riddled with possibilities. Today, it held nothing for me but a dismal black maze that sought to keep me lost forever.

– H. Danielle Crabtree

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