When I first meet her—my golden-haired beauty—I stumble back a few steps from the brilliance of the light shining all around her. She looks at me kind of strange, laughs a nervous little laugh, and says maybe she’ll see me around campus. I can’t say a word, can’t see anything but that damn light throwing itself all over the bricks of the quad and the trees.
For days I follow her everywhere, taking pictures with my cell phone, watching her in class, writing her name on the pages of my textbooks and on the dorm walls, buying her things which I hide in my room until the day when I will surprise her with my love. Golden rings for her fingers and silver slippers for her feet, gold and silver to reflect my light back to hers.
I begin to notice that there are others who are attracted to her light. Those that would fatten her up with their admiration and compliments and gobble up her beauty and keep it for themselves. They are unworthy of her, of her light, and I double my vigilance and quest for her love.
Oh she starts to act like I’m bothering her, asking me to stop writing things about her, stop staring at her, stop following her around the campus. But it doesn’t matter because I am her Prince and our Light cannot be hidden under a bush oh no.
One night I go to her room I must be with her light and I knock at the door of the sweet place she sleeps and dresses and studies and laughs with her friends. When there is no answer, I knock again, harder this time, and the door opens slightly and there I am in her room and the light from the computer shines like the Light around her and the heat is radiating like from an oven and I take my phone and start filming the light from the computer and the light from the windows and the night light because they are all tiny remnants of her Light that she leaves like clues for me when she isn’t around.
Suddenly she is in the room and she is screaming “Get out get out get out of my fucking room!” and I stand there unable to see her because it is so bright and it is so loud and I’m confused about the words that are flying out of the Light at the doorway. I run blindly by her and briefly our Lights are close and then joined and hot hot hot and the heat spills into the hallway and out the windows and through the cracks in the wood on the floors and people come running to the Light and the heat and they are so jealous of it and want to bask in it and become a part of the brilliance that is us.
I run out of the building and I am on fire fire is billowing out from me heating me up and I see a flashing blue light but who cares their light is insignificant compared to ours. I answer their questions with questions and fill their forms out with her name and my name and even the paper shines now with both our names on it the frog and the princess who will transform him with one kiss from her rose red lips. I laugh, laugh at their silly authority and when they put me in the cell I laugh again and stare at the pitiful light in the ceiling that shines all night on the metal and the toilet and the white white cot the pitiful light that cowers at the top of the room because it has seen my Light and is ashamed.
My father comes to get me out of the cage and when we get to the dorm he says we are leaving I must pack my things that I need help and I cry and shout and beg that he cannot take me from my purpose my purpose we are only for each other we are two against the world of darkness shining our Lights out over sin and sorrow and sadness and wherever we go there will be pathways of Light which we must walk side by side.
As we leave I am calm because I have a plan and as I walk I leave small match-size pieces of my Light on the sidewalk and on the grass and in the parking lot between the cars and when we drive down the road I am tossing small Lights out the window so that she can hungrily follow them shining her Light in front of her, searching for me fulfilling the prophecy that we must be together. I am not afraid I am not afraid at all I am buoyed by the thought of her following the Light crumbs to her destiny.
Mamie Potter is a writer and photographer who lives in Raleigh, NC. Her work has appeared in the 2009 and 2011 Solstice Anthologies, Our State Magazine, and Impact Magazine.