A world, she understood without any sense of surprise or wonder, that she could change with a thought or on a whim.
There was no heartache unless she wished for it, no company unless she created it. Her life could spin out— color and movement and quiet and sound—like the pages of a book that never had to end.
If she wanted a companion, she had only to imagine one. Lover or friend.
But really, she needed no one
but herself. People brought problems, responsibilities, baggage, needs that were not her own. Life was so much simpler in solitude.
Her lips curved with contentment as she wandered along the sickle curve of beach where the only footprints were hers, toward the lush green shade of palms and trees heavy with fruit.
Cooler here, because she wished it to be. Soft, soft grass beneath her feet, sprinkles of sunlight through the fronds overhead, and the sharp, bright flash of birds with feathers the rich colors of jewels.
She plucked fruit from a branch—a mango, of course— and took the first sweet, juicy bite.
It was chilled, almost icy cold, just the way she liked it best, rather than warmed by that streaming sun.
She lifted her arms, saw they were tanned a smooth and dusky gold, and when she looked down she grinned to see her toes were painted a bold andcelebrational pink.
Exactly right, she realized. Thats exactly what I wanted.
Her mind began to wander as she roamed through the glade, watched goldfish dance in a pool of clear blue water. She wanted the fish to be red as rubies, and they were. Green as emeralds, and they became so.
The wonderful flash of bright color in the water made her laugh, and at the sound of it, birds— more jewels— glided into that perfect bowl of sky.
This could be her forever place, she realized, changing only as she wished it to change. Here, she would never hurt again, or need, or be disappointed.
Everything would always be just the way she wanted it to be… until she wanted it to be different.
She lifted the mango again, and a thought passed through her mind: But what will I do here, day after day?
She seemed to hear voices, just the murmur of them, far off. Even as the breeze kicked up, whisked them away, she turned, looked back.
Flowers tangled on lush green vines. Fruit dripped, glossy as gems, from the delicate branches of trees. The sound of the surf, a seductive whisper, shivered through the air.
She stood, alone, in the paradise she had made.
“No”
She said it out loud, as a kind of test.
This isnt right. This isnt who I am, isnt what I want.
The fruit she held slipped out of her fingers and hit the ground at her feet with an ugly splat. Her heart jolted in her chest as she saw it was rotten at the core.
The colors around her were too harsh, she realized, the textures too flat. Like a stage set, like standing on an elaborate set built for an endless play.
“This is a trick.” Angry wasps began to buzz around the spoiled fruit. “This is a lie!”
As she shouted it, the blue sky turned to boiling black. Wind screamed, ripping fronds, hurling flowers and fruit. The air turned bitterly cold.
She ran, with icy rain stinging her face, plastering the silk against her body.
In this wild and wicked world, trick or no trick, she knew she was no longer alone.
She ran, through the hurricane scream of the storm, through the lashing, razor-edged fronds that seemed to snatch at her arms and legs like grasping fingers.
Breathless, terrified, she spilled out onto the beach. The sea was a nightmare, walls of oily black water rising up, pounding down, eating away at the land bite by greedy bite. Palm trees crashed down behind her, and the white sand caved in on itself, like a world collapsing.