by Mitzi Danielson-Kaslik
spring water
I
turned a harsh corner, as appropriated by the path and the scene before me
shocked me. Sylvester and Marius were facing each other, rapiers draw.
Sylvester’s waves of chestnut hair whipped around him as he fought. And Marius
fought back. Both men – brave men – fought so fiercely. My first feeling was
panic; one of these man, one of my lovers (only one of whom I had slept with),
was about to die. Secondly, I felt fear, almost as if this situation were my
doing, thought through my jealously, I could not fathom how it was entirely my
own fault. Sylvester. He was the one who had loved Camille. But there was
another feeling; an odd sense of joy – for the first time in my life someone
wanted me, not one, but two men, both handsome and charming and passionate were
fighting over me. Though my own sense sickened me, I found that I felt far more
feminine than I ever had done in an odd way. To myself, it was never what I
would have described as typically feminine; I was slender and small with long
dark hair and at around thirteen my chest had emerged. On top of that, I had
what had been described as a soft rather over enunciated voice with a certain
musicality to it. You see, I was not in the least bit feminine. Returned my
thoughts to the present moment, my lovers were fighting. The clash of the
rapiers and the silvery metal flashed in the subtle light of the moon and the
stars almost like stage effects, as if they were in a play to which I acted as
both a willing and unwilling audience.
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