Kaylie Smith

Of course, as with the magic, Ophelia was quickly learning that the idea of something was only pleasurable when it stayed an idea. A distant daydream.

“What a phantasmagoria the mind is and meeting-place of dissemblables!”

― Virginia Woolf, Orlando

Shadows can only be seen in the presence of light,” he told her, the words agonized. “I worry when you leave, there will be no one left to see me.”

He shook his head. “Nothing is eternal. Except for the fact that you’ve ruined me. All I’ve ever wanted was freedom from this wretched game, and I didn’t even hesitate for a second to give it up.”

“I was not made for you,” she repeated, though it was much less convincing this time.

“Then maybe I was made for you

I want you to know, I really would have waited for you, right here, forever if that’s what it would have taken. I would have stood in this spot until I could no longer distinguish my own soul from the shadows. Until your light came back to me.”

How else have you managed to get so deep under my skin in such a short amount of time? Why is it that every time I try to imagine what it would be like to sever our vows, I feel like the Hunting Blade is piercing my heart? Fifteen years I’ve lived for everyone else around me. I’ve withered away in this damned place. Until you showed up and you made me laugh. You gave me hope.”