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by Janet Magsley

The Way of It By Coraline

If you are a god
let me worship at your altar.
If you are a king
let me obey you as a servant.
If you are a merchant
let me give you all my gold.
If you are a farmer
let me tend your cattle in the fields.
But I would wish you an exile
so I can follow you forever

Untitled by Avalon Rose

It's the way you feel when you can't stop laughing.
The way you feel after you've cried.
The way your heart leaps when you hear his voice;
The way you feel when you finally fall asleep.

It's the sound the rain makes on soft grass.
It's the dense fog that envelops the morning.
It's the sunshine that warms your whole body;
Making every problem seem a little smaller.

It's the dog that curls up in your lap when you're sad,
The teddy bear as old as you are, who absorbs your tears.
The way your best friend can always make you smile-
The pain when she moves away.

It's the music that makes your heart swell,
It's the silence that surrounds the night.
The stars that twinkle above you.
It's the sunset on the ocean.

It's the warmness that comes from a hot cup of tea;
It's the heartache of your father's death.
The splendour of a boquet of roses
And the delicate butterfly that alights upon them.

It's joy and excitement,
It's anger and sadness.
It's passion and rage and emotion and explosion.

Love is indescribable;
Unfathomable;
Everything and nothing pulled into one;
I love him. I'll love him forever.

The Fairy Tale Has Faded by Passion

The magic rose has wilted
The shredded petals fall
Leaving only lifeless earth
No one to hear my call

Baby you say you love me
But I know that’s just not true
Because the glass is not rose tinted
The lies shatter my illusions of you.

You’ll learn there are no happy endings
There are no stars to wish upon
And dreaming’s just for dreamers
When all your love is gone

I’ve lost you now completely
You’ve left a void in this soul of mine
And only shadows thrive in this darkness
And bring a sleep sublime

Sweetheart the end is coming
Grey clouds have covered the sunny sky
I hate you and yet I need you,
And it’s so hard to understand why.

Now I see that the magic isn’t real
Love can’t conquer my despair
And yes the roses have all wilted
Because you and I no longer care

My fairytale has faded
Like stars on a cloudy night
Yes, my fairy tale has faded
It’s faded right from sight.

Do you remember your first kiss... by Dusky Pidlerson

I remember mine, I was just turned five.
He made me feel so very alive.
We played cowboys and indians, doctors and nurses,
snakes and ladders, robbing fictional purses,
and also we kissed.

I remember another, I was just turned six.
He and I together - a jolly good mix.
We made cookies and milkshakes, cupcakes and sauces,
plenty of potions, but no magic forces.
and also we kissed.

I remember even more, when I was turned seven.
He made me feel like I was in heaven.
We sang and we danced, were in the school choir.
He made my heart sing, lifted higher and higher,
and also we kissed.

There were more kisses coming, when we were turned eight.
Often the teacher wondered why we were late.
We were hanging by the classroom, till hearing the bell chime.
whispering and laughing, is that such a crime,
and also we kissed.

A few more times we kissed when I was turned nine.
Despite all the cooties, we got along fine.
I knew time was short, but I didn't care.
There were still so many stickerbooks to share,
and also we kissed.

Now we've had to part, since I'm well past ten,
I'm going to Hogwarts, and you know that then
because he is a muggle, we cannot talk so much
I will miss his funny laugh and his timid touch,
and also his kisses.

The Scars of Love

Italics by Polly Huggs, Continuation by Riley Snow

Celia strolled down the corridor towards the Great Hall, late for breakfast, but maybe still in time to get a snack before lunch time. It was the weekend, and most of the school was out on the lawn playing in the snow. Celia hadn't made many friends at Hogwarts, so she had nothing to do this morning except to proofread an essay for Potions. Since she had the whole weekend to do it, she had decided to sleep in and spend the day in her room reading. After she got her snack, of course.

On her way down the corridor, Celia noticed an odd thing. There was a portrait on the North wall that was missing part of it's frame. As she got near it, she realized that not only was part of the frame missing, but part of the painting itself seemed to be gone. Not only that, but she had been staring at it closely for over a minute, and it hadn't moved, or spoken. Where she was from this wouldn't seem odd, but at Hogwarts the portraits had a more active social life than she did. Celia took a step back from the wall and studied the portrait. It was very well done, although the subject seemed very sad for such a lovely scene. It was a young woman, not much older than Celia was, with long dark hair, and beautiful green eyes. The girl seemed to be looking past Celia's shoulder, and she saw the hint of a tear in the corner of her eye. She was sitting on the edge of a large granite boulder, her back to the sparkling sea. There was a bundle of daises clutched loosely in the girls left hand, and her right hand looked as if she was reaching out.

Celia imagined what the girl might have been thinking at the time the painting had been done, and what could have been in the other half of the picture. She was sure now that the painting was missing another half, because of the crowded composition of the scene. The girl seemed to be far too close to the right edge of the painting. Celia ran her finger down the missing edge if the portrait, feeling the roughness of the canvas. This portrait had been cut, not torn. But ... why?

Celia was very troubled by the mystery of this lost picture. It just didn’t make sense. She furrowed her brow as she stepped back to study it once more, but was soon distracted by the grumbling of her stomach. She wasn’t sure why, but the mystery behind this painting was seriously troubling her. It had a strange lure to it – intrigue, that’s what it was.

On the way to the Great Hall, Celia’s mind mulled over all possible objects or people that might have occupied the missing half of the picture. She fancied that it was some great romantic story – the love of her life had died in the name of love or something tragic like that. But that still wouldn’t explain why half of it had been cut out.

With a sigh, the young girl sat down at the table of red and gold. The breakfast food had been cleared, but the usual assortment of trays of fruit, various crackers and nuts, and a diverse collection of sweets lay scattered over the table. When she reached out to pull the nearest tray of salty snacks in her direction, she felt it being pushed towards her by a hand that she only now noticed.

Celia glanced up and was met by the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen. An unfamiliar boy was smiling down at her, swinging his leg over the table.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked in a friendly tone. Celia stared up at the boy for a moment, completely unaware that she was staring dreamily at him.

“Erm, of course,” she finally responded, though rather feebly. Great. That was quite smooth, Celia, she reprimanded herself. Why are you acting like such a dunce? He’s only a boy, she pointed out. But then her subconscious commentary attacked her with, the most gorgeous boy you’ve ever seen. Oh shut up, she told it, futilely attempting to silence it. You know you want him. Just admit it to yourself. Celia smiled at the boy weakly, and, thankfully, he took over the conversation.

“So, I’m new here.” That’s obvious. I would have noticed you before. That level of hotness just isn’t normal. “Got any expert advice on this place to share with a newbie like myself?” he asked cleverly. God, why was he talking to her? Celia tucked a strand of long dark hair behind her ear. Where was her confidence? Oh wait, she didn’t have any.

“Hardly. But maybe I could help. What type of things are you interested in learning?” Because of the protruding sense of awkwardness, Celia reached into the bowl and pinched a peanut. She popped it in her mouth and sucked off all the salt before slowly chewing it. The sex god across from her seemed to really have to consider this question, or his answer to it, rather. Which was sort of odd, Celia realized when she considered this. All the first years she knew, herself included, had plenty of questions always on the tips of their tongues, and Celia has presumed that anyone new to Hogwarts would have such questions. While he contemplated his answer, thoughtfully twisting a pretzel stick in his teeth, Celia admired his striking features. He was a right Apollo, he was. His eyes possessed a true depth, and looked as if stories untold had latently mulled about inside them for an infinite sum of years. He had near perfect bone structure, and the dip of his lips blended perfectly into his milky olive skin. A splendidly rounded nose sloped off his face and dipped and pointed into just the right contours while his jaw created somewhat of a stark contrast to his pliable, smooth looking neck. Overall, he looked like he had come right out of a painting – a subtle softness radiated off his form, a quiet melting quality screamed out from his amazingly well shaded and blended features.

Finally, mystery Adonis spoke and his voice splashed cold water on Celia’s trance: “Well, where the dorms are, for a start,” he laughed. Celia’s eyes watched his features move with their picturesque characteristics, and found herself comparing him to a complex work of surrealist genius. “And probably where Dumbledore’s office is, too. I communicated with him through the owling system, but I’d like to alert him of my safe arrival. And how I should act to fit in and what not,” he added, smiling into the green eyes she had never before accredited as being very lovely.

Celia briefly wondered, once again, why on earth this incredibly attractive masculine form was asking her, considering that her social life wasn’t even as ample as that of the House Elves, but dismissed it for further contemplation. Fact had it that Mr. Gorgeous was sitting right here in front of her and talking to her, and for the fact that he might never again, she was going to enjoy this for all it was worth. And it was worth quite a bit.

Flipping a strand of long dark hair over her shoulder, Celia forgot about the hunger in her stomach, and the peanuts sitting in front of her, which, if she were to think about it, seemed to be just calling for the attention of a mouth. “The dorms? That would mean they put you in Gryffindor, no?” Celia asked, a tone of hopefulness slightly detectable in her voice. The boy nodded, and Celia suddenly felt very encouraged. She was the one controlling the conversation: someone was looking to her for answers, and that was a rare thing in the life of Celia. “Wait. Before I ask you anything else, might I have the pleasure of learning your name?” She inquired, a sparkle in her bright green eyes as the words flowed out of her slightly upturned lips.

“Right. That’s probably a good start,” the boy confirmed, nodding his head and laughing a little. Staring right into Celia’s eyes, he reached across the table and held out his hand while saying, “You can call me Kal.”

As Celia took Kal’s hand, she felt that a certain bond was forming. With every sentence that poured out of his mouth, she felt the gushing current of his words whisking her away, drowning her in some sea that felt oddly comfortable – like a place she wanted to remain until the end of eternity. As her fingertips exchanged voltage with Kal’s, Celia felt the electric rush surging through them both, like a power cord plugged into a wall. She suddenly just knew. She wasn’t sure what she knew, but she knew it. And she did know, as she chatted away with Kal, sharing the secrets of life at Hogwarts that she wasn’t even aware she had harbored away in her brain. The two chatted for the majority of the day, learning each other’s ways and thinking, and falling into each other’s hearts. Celia forgot all about the mysterious half-a-painting she had seen earlier; all thoughts that had previously occupied her mind were replaced by a dark, handsome face with a charming smile and a perfect personality, commonly called Kal.

One month later, Celia was sitting outside the castle, watching the current sweep the waves through the lake. The lake that would be perfectly calm without them. She had once wished that the lake would always be perfectly calm and serene, but now she found herself appreciating the waves. They seemed so sure, and they didn’t wonder where they were being carried off. It was just so ideal, and Celia fell into their trance as she sat waiting for Kal.

She never suspected that he wouldn’t show up. She never suspected anything about him – he was perfect, and she had come to accept that. She had some inkling in the depth of her mind that warned her to be on her guard and counseled her in the philosophy that the boy was too good to be true. But she never paid attention to that. She didn’t ever want to ruin the perfect image she had of him. Celia had spent that past month getting to know him, learning the things about him that she sometimes indulged herself in thinking no one else knew. Like his true name – Kalyptein. And his tragic past, along with his hopeful future. She knew his dreams, and he knew hers. She never wondered anymore why he talked to her. She trusted him, and she loved him. She had always been a hopeless romantic, but she had never actually expected to fall in love. Not at this point in her life, anyways. But when Kal came along, her whole world shifted. She didn’t know what she doubted anymore, she knew what she was sure of, and right now she was sure of Kal. She was sure of his graceful walk, his smooth speech. The way he fondly ran a finger down her cheek for no reason other than the fact that he loved her. Celia knew he felt the same way about her as she felt about him – it just went un-discussed. They had made some connection somewhere between their deep talks and perfect moments of silence. When they lay under the stars at night, they just understood. And that was all Celia wanted.

She didn’t have any friends, except Kal. She never had anyone to talk to about Kal, and she never really wished she did: other people wouldn’t understand. Other people never understood anything. At first she wondered why no one asked her about Kal – he was gorgeous, so other girls were bound to notice him. But thoughts like that were soon pushed out of her mind. All she saw was the good in Kal. Maybe that was all she wanted to see, but she liked life this way. She would daydream about him during History of Magic when Professor Binns droned on about the goblin wars or some such gibberish, and she would wonder what Kal was doing in his classes (he was older, so they didn’t share any, naturally). She never considered that he might not have gone to classes. She never saw him around the common room much either – she would run into him in empty hallways, or up in the north tower. Celia had very soon grown to be like the little waves on the lake – carried away in a stream filled with everything Kal.

It was as she stared out at the lake that she remembered the painting she had seen a while away – the one of the sad girl that had been cut in half. God, that seemed like ages ago! Celia stared out at the lake, and suddenly something clicked. The painting! Of course! This was the very spot that the image had been set in! She sat up excitedly just as a familiar step crumpled the grass behind her. “I hear I’m wanted somewhere out here,” the harmonious voice spoke up. Celia turned and smiled at the boy she had fallen very desperately in love with.

It was finally Valentine’s Day, and Celia barely survived her wretched classes. Who needed classes when they had Kal? She had known him for just over 2 months, and she had probably spent an accumulated 2 months time with him. And she still absolutely adored the boy. Tonight, he had something special planned, and Celia had been daydreaming about it all day. Well, special wasn’t what he had titled it – important was the word he had used. But important and special meant the same thing, didn’t they? Celia tapped her quill excitedly all through Defense Against the Dark Arts, and she couldn’t wait until 9 o’clock tonight – out by the lake: the same spot at which they always met. She smiled affectionately when an anonymous owl perched itself on her cup and dropped a heart-shaped valentine onto her empty plate. Kal was such a sweetheart.

When Celia showed up at the lakefront, Kal was already there, perched on a sharp rock leaning out over the water, a wistful and recollecting gaze misting his chocolate eyes. Celia approached him and ran a finger down his arm until it found his hand, which she grasped and squeezed tightly before taking a seat next to the tousle-haired figure. Kal smiled at the girl he had grown to love and gently attached a small bouquet of tulips to her warm fingers.

“Listen, Celia, there’s something I’ve got to tell you,” he began. A pool of regretful fear drained into the girl’s stomach. That always meant something bad. Celia nodded weakly, shivering slightly as the wind blew her long dark hair away from her face.

“I’m not everything you think I am,” he continued. God, this is so cliché, Celia thought, gulping down the lump forming in her tight throat. She suddenly felt her stomach lurch forward into a spinning vortex of worried anticipation. Hadn’t she been taught that nothing was perfect? That not all things were what they seemed? Had she really been so blind as to fall completely into Kal’s grasp?

“I…” he was faltering. That meant this was hard for him. So there was nothing good to come out of this. “I’m not a real person,” he blurted. “Well, I am, but not in the sense that you are.” Celia pulled a look of confusion – it was easier to do that. Kal looked down at the ground as he explained in a low voice, “I was the object of a painting. And the artist made me alive. I don’t know how, and I don’t know what, but I know that I have to go.”

Celia felt like she was about to hurl. She had been completely and utterly blinded by love. She had fallen trap to the sport of fate. Instead of standing up and crying, sobbing into the arms that she knew and loved so well, the arms that she already missed, she took a deep, steadying breath and averted her eyes from Kal – one glance at his picturesque perfection would send her over the edge – Celia responded, “That doesn’t make sense.”

She knew that Kal was faltering. He didn’t know what to say – he may be perfect, but even perfection has its flaws, she now realized. “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” he agreed sadly. “I just appeared one day, walking down the halls, and I knew things – like where I was, and what I was supposed to do. I was created not only in form, but in person too. My artist gave me thoughts and traits, characteristics to tell the story behind the painting. Then I was made real.”

Kal didn’t seem to understand this any more than Celia did, and after their first moment of awkward silence, the green-eyed girl broke in, “so why do you have to go?” “I just know. I just know a lot of things – like how I love you as much as you love me - and this is one of them.” A light bulb went off in Celia’s head, but she was too misted by disappointment to notice it for now. She limply dangled the forgotten flowers in her hand and watched Kal figure out the meaning of his words. He stood up slowly and turned to Celia, his brown eyes glued to her green ones. He leaned down and kissed her cheek before walking away. An electrical force broke and slapped Celia in the very spot Kal’s lips had just brushed as the boy distanced himself from Celia. Sad eyes turned around and met sadder ones as a boy walked away into the distant moonlight, disappearing as a single tear drop materialized in the girl’s eye and slid down her porcelain cheek as an arm stretched out in an attempt to retrieve what it had just lost.

Celia remained in that position for a long while, too shocked to think or move. The same thought chased each other through her head for half of the night. Finally, when the soft patter of tulips hitting a granite boulder startled her, she lifted her numb figure and carried it back to the castle. Her brain finally began to work again, and she found herself wondering random halls of Hogwarts, sorting out recent occurrences. Why had she been so stupid? So careless? So blind? So vulnerable. So utterly lost in the embrace of an unreal love. But it had been real – what she felt, what she depended on. It had been the most real thing she’d ever experienced. Then why was it stinging her in the heart like a deadly bee? Her footsteps padded along quietly, dancing from one beam of sparkling moonlight to the next. Celia rounded an oddly familiar corner and found herself staring at an oddly familiar painting. The one of the girl staring out into the distance. Celia glanced at it for a second before turning her gaze back to the ground, but she slowly lifted her eyes to it in remembrance. Her tired lids were pulled open and widened as she recognized not only the image of the tragic girl, but also the image of a boy, a gorgeous boy, slowly disappearing into the moonlight and glancing back at the lonely girl.

Celia stumbled back against the wall and gaped at the painting, very suddenly realizing a lot of things. For the boy in the painting was Kal, and the girl resembled Celia quite a bit. This was the exact scene that had played out earlier tonight, but it was different in some ways. This was the painting that Kal had been extracted from - Celia knew it. She was hurtled into a brick wall of understanding as her stomach flipped through her abdomen and her eyes popped out of her head in shock. She now knew exactly what the girl in the painting was feeling: that same stinging shock and slow burning that was consuming Celia’s soul. Kal had been taken out of the painting and sent to recreate it in real life. Celia looked just like the girl, and Kal had noticed that – he was destined to fall in love her, just how he was destined to break her heart. The picture had been based on her life, or had her life been based on the picture? The fates were playing some twisted game, but curiously, it all fit together like the perfect puzzle. The painting had been torn apart to make the boy in it alive, and it had been patched together when he evaporated back into it. Unprecedented, a sad smile crept up Celia’s sagging face, and a shaking finger found its way to the perfectly painted figure of a male god in the framed picture on the wall. Celia traced the outline of the boy she loved, knowing that he was in this painting, feeling the love she sent through her touch.

She never cried that night, as she thought she would. She simply smiled a wistful smile – for she had figured everything out, and it had all been so ironic. She mourned for her loss, but nurtured the deep scars on her still-pulsing heart, oddly appreciating the comfortable pain. Celia had once wondered why the painting on the wall had been torn, leaving the wretched girl to her misery in incomplete form, but now she understood why. And she understood what, and how.

She changed more than she ever would in her life over those two and a half months. Celia would never be so carelessly content or so pitifully dejected in all her life, and all of this suffering and bliss for the sake of love. She had basked in the delight of those sharp talons piercing into her heart, but the emptiness she felt when they were brutally wrenched away went unequaled. The scars of love would never heal, but the experience behind them was well worth the hurt.

The End

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