~ * ~

'For long you live and high you fly . . .'

Excerpt from Rhiannon Mary Lougher's diary

'For the sin of being different, the forgiveness they seek is lost forever. Banished from light, their life, their existence. Living like animals, shunned by all. An outcast from the world of men. An outcast from life itself. They are forgotten, and become that which they once feared most. They become one with the darkness, forbidden and forsaken.
They turn to the Dark Side, for it is the only friend they have left, seeking the kindness they once sought from the light.
Abandoned, they turn on others, finding those who are the same. Banding together in the embrace of evil. Forging into the darkness with an unholy drive. Slowly losing themselves in that which they once scorned. And finding their 'happiness' with every ally they uncover, those that fall from grace. Slowly losing their souls to the black hatred spreading within them. Decaying, dying, their souls shadows, the spirits of darkness. The festering swells up and eventually knocks them over the edge of sanity . . .'

~ * ~
October, 1998
New York City, New York

" . . .look, I'm tired and I'm not exactly in the mood to chat! . . . to tell you the truth I don't care Tessa . . . for God's sake -! . . . probably because you're calling me every five minutes!! . . . I honestly couldn't give a damn! . . . so what?! You think the world's going to explode just because you - . . . God you're such a bimbo!! . . . you heard me. Nothing but a brainless bimbo! . . . I can. I'm amazed I've put up with it for so long . . ." stretched out on the couch in their hotel room, Taylor stared at the ceiling as Isaac shouted down the phone.

What the hell was happening to him?

Rhiannon just stared at him from her perch on the opposite couch.

He wouldn't look at her. He wouldn't!

He was just hallucinating from lack of sleep.

Lack of sleep.

He hadn't been sleeping at all.

Those empty brown eyes, staring at him - staring through him! - kept him awake for hours on end.

Why was she doing this to him?

Why was she haunting him?

Or was she?

Was it all just his imagination?

" . . .don't pull the cry-baby act on me! It's not going to work this time Tessa . . ."

The dusty white ceiling was pretty. Through the peeling paint, he could just make out the alice blue colour underneath. The mottled white blue was nice. You really had to look hard to see it.

" . . .I don't care if it was harsh! If you're so dumb as to not see that I'm in a completely rotten mood right now, then you deserve everything you're getting! . . ."

This couch was really comfy. Brown faux velvet. Warm and cosy. It must have been really old, since only old couches could be this comfortable. It was better than the beds; they were hard, the sheets were starched. They had the sterilised hospital feel about them. No, he'd definitely be sleeping on this couch tonight. If he could get to sleep.

" . . .It started the second I picked up the phone and heard your voice!! . . . You're like a leech! And frankly I'm sick of it! . . ."

Zac was sitting about three inches away from the TV, watching South Park. It was an old one; the one where Jesus and Satan fought it out in a boxing ring. The kid was cracking up; God Zac had the most annoying laugh. Yet, it didn't seem to bother him today.

" . . .Oh! So now it's my fault you're completely brain-dead?! . . . Jesus Tessa, listen to yourself! You're raving like a lunatic! . . ."

A lunatic . . .

~ * ~
Early November, 1996
Tulsa, Oklahoma

Carlton had football practise that afternoon. Rhiannon'd never liked football. The perfect opportunity to visit the Lougher house.

Again.

It seemed like ages since they'd gotten back from California; at least, it did to Taylor. Every time he'd dragged himself up the very steep hill to the house on the corner of Elise Crescent, he hadn't even gotten past the front door. Why Carlton wouldn't even let him through the door was a mystery to him. The guy had said 'if it weren't for you, none of this shit would have happened', but since he didn't know what that was . . .
Rachael had pulled him aside the last time, told him that Carlton had football practise today and wouldn't be around.
"It should be okay for you to see Rhee,"
What had puzzled him was the slightly hopeful emphasis on the word 'should'. What was wrong with her?

Bundling up his courage, he knocked on the door.
'Fingers crossed'
The sight of dark brown pigtails released the breath Tay didn't even know he'd been holding.
"Hi Taylor," Rachael smiled, but she didn't open the door any wider.
"Hey Ice," they both stood, smiling courteously at one another, "Can I come in?"
"Um . . . I'm not sure," she answered earnestly. The completely serious look on her face, Tay burst out laughing.
"What, do you think I'm an axe-murderer or something?" Rachael just looked at him, bewildered.
'Probably wondering what this crazy idiot is doing on her doorstep!' he thought to himself.
"Why aren't you sure? Is it because of Carlton?"
"No," but the way she said it gave her away.
"Come on Ice, you said yourself your brother's gonna be at training all day, he won't find out,"
"No it's not that! It's . . . well . . ." how could she get him to leave without telling him what had happened? Oh gosh, she was in a fix! If he saw Rhee now . . . she couldn't let him in!
"What?"
"Well . . . um . . . Mom said not to let anybody in while they were gone!"
"So I've been demoted to 'anybody'?" why was Taylor grinning like that? Did he think this was a kind of game?
"No! But I don't wanna make Mom angry,"
"Do you think your Mom'd be angry to know that I came to see my best friend?"
"Well . . . I . . . I don't know,"
"Come on Ice, let me in," without waiting, he pushed open the door and went inside. For a second, Rachael just stood staring. What could she do now?

"Rhee? Rhee?" quickly he darted down the four carpeted stairs, through the living room and the kitchen.
But for some reason, he paused outside her door, suddenly hesitant to go in.

Why?

"Um . . . Rhee?" he called softly through the door.
"Tay?" Rachael said, swallowing the mouse that had suddenly crept into her throat. The small fingers that gripped his elbow were surprisingly strong.
"What's wrong Ice?"
"Please Taylor, just leave her alone," there was fear in her voice. Something he'd never expected to see in Rachael Iseult Lougher; she was such a calm girl.
"Why? What's going on?"
"Just leave her be; she doesn't really want company," the bright blue eyes were wide with entreaty. In that instant, she wasn't Rachael, she wasn't one of the smartest and most naïve seven year olds he knew; she was a little child, begging him to let be.
But he couldn't.
Rhiannon was his best friend.
"I can't," and he pushed open the door.

'The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path . . .'
Standing on the second of the four carpeted stairs down to Rhiannon's room, Taylor froze.

And gaped.

'The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folding faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more . . .'
The room was in shambles.

Overturned furniture was scattered everywhere.

'And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room on the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too . . .'
Shattered crystals decorated the floor.

Mangled iron charms lay bent and twisted at the foot of the bed.

Dreamcatchers, ripped from their places by the windows, lay in a tangled heap by the four carpeted stairs.

'The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me till I'm sane . . .'
The thin coloured candles had all been snapped in half, and some in half again.

One almost exhausted black candle sat on the window sill, the wax spread around it and dripping onto the polished wood floor.

'You lock the door
And throw away the key
And there's someone in my head
But it's not me . . .'
And in the midst of it all was Rhiannon.

Still in her pyjamas, her hair unbrushed.

Sitting on a bed covered by stripped sheets.

Her too-thin legs hugged to her chest.

She stared at the painted ankh on her wall.

Her wall was cris-crossed with parallel scratches, as if someone had run sharp fingernails across it.

Her wide eyes were empty.

'And if the cloud bursts thunder in your ears
You shout and no-one seems to hear
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes . . .'
"Rhee?" he choked on the words. The blaring music of Pink Floyd covered his weak attempt at words.

She stared still.

"Rhee?" he managed to speak, loud enough to be heard.
She whirled to stare at him.

His breath caught in his throat; he was suddenly very afraid.

Her eyes were no longer empty.

They were filled with rage.

And terror.

"Mynd ar gerdded!!" she shrieked at him.

Stunned, he could only gape.

"MYND AR GERDDED!!" she screamed and threw a pillow at him.

It missed him by a few feet.

He didn't move.

Screaming like a wild animal, she grabbed an empty drawer, pulled from its cabinet.

Shaken back to reality, Tay saw her go for it.

He ran.

She screamed.

He slammed the door.

She threw the drawer.

Taylor never heard it bash against the wall.
He never heard her long, tortured howl.

He was already half out the front door.

~ * ~
October, 1998
New York City, New York

"And I didn't stop running until I was at the bus-stop,"
"Wasn't the bus-stop just down the road?"
"Not the stop that was about three-quarters of a mile away,"
"Oh!" Doctor Jones laughed, and hoped to hell it didn't sound as forced as it was.
"Why do you think you ran that far?"
"Why do you think?! I was twelve years old and I was scared shitless!"
"Let's keep the language slightly more civilised please. I can understand you were scared, but do you think there were any other reasons behind it?"
"Like what?" Taylor was sceptical
"Perhaps running from confrontation,"
"Doc, if I hadn't 'run from confrontation', I'd probably have a drawer sticking out of my head!"
"No! No! That's not what I meant," she chuckled. Again forced, "I meant a confrontation within yourself," she could almost see the boy's confused expression; whether he honestly didn't understand or whether his subconscious was feigning bewilderment she couldn't tell.
"Huh?"
"Perhaps after seeing your best friend, you wouldn't let yourself accept what you knew was happening to her, because it hurt too much, so you ran,"
"No," he answered too quickly. That one had hit far too close!
'She's already building a mental checklist of all the things she has to organise to get me into Siberia and a straight-jacket. I know it!'
"Well, do you have any ideas?"
"It was two years ago, how am I supposed to remember?"
"You've remembered everything else pretty well,"
'Damn!'. Why could he never find a way to get himself out of situations like this? Right now, even a blatant lie was better than the truth. He couldn't face it again!
"Well, all I can remember is that I was scared shi- that the living daylights had been scared out of me,"
"If you're sure -"
"I am,"
"Okay then. All I can say then is that I'm glad you called me,"
"Yeah," from the tone in his voice, she could tell he wasn't. There was an awkward pause of silence. The doctor found herself listening to the dial-tone.
Disheartened, Dr. Jones rested the phone back in its cradle and sighed. Taylor had obviously expected her to offer some kind of miracle cure. The fact of the matter was, she'd given all she could. But if he wasn't willing to face his ghosts and tell her what he stubbornly kept guarded in his heart, there was nothing more she could do for him.
He'd sounded slightly absent, like he was just going through the routine, his mind somewhere else.
Not a good sign.
Not a good sign at all.

Tay stared at the phone for a few seconds. The doctor hadn't helped.
She'd helped him all those times before, why hadn't she helped this time?
There was only one person left he could turn to.
Who else could always be relied upon to be up in her room, working away, instead of being out shopping or flirting?
Elisabette.
Thank God for Liz Shephard!

For the third time, his shaking fingers attempted to dial Liz's number. Why was he nervous? It wasn't like he hadn't talked to Liz a thousand times before. So what if it was over a phone?
Why did he always keep pressing the wrong number?!
He had to dial twice more before he got the number right.
And then redial three times before he found the courage to not hang up before somebody answered.
'Please Liz! Pick up the phone!'

Mrs. Shephard:   Hello?

He hung up.

'Coward! You're nothing but a bloody coward!!' Tay berated himself as he hooked up his lap-top and logged onto the net.
'Stupid fricking coward!'

After about half an hour of aimless surfing, one particular link caught his eye.
The Goddess Rhiannon.
Despite the pain of buried memories, his curiosity was piqued.
Just a little look wouldn't hurt . . .
Would it?

Part Three of the First Branch of the Mabinogion Pwyll and Rhiannon ruled Dyfed prosperously the first and second year. The third year, however, the men of Dyfed began to fret at seeing this man whom they loved as their lord and foster-brother still childless. They summoned Pwyll to a meeting in Presseleu and spoke thus, "Lord, we realise you are not as old as some men in the land, but we fear that your wife will never bear you a child. Take another woman so that you may have an heir. You will not last forever, and though you may wish matters to remain as they are, we will not permit it." "Well, even now we have not been together long, and much may yet happen," answered Pwyll. "Give me another year. At the end of that time we will meet again and I will accept your advice." They set a date and before the end of that year Rhiannon bore Pwyll a son in Arberth. On the eve of his birth, women were brought to the chamber to care for the mother and child, but these women and Rhiannon fell asleep. Six women had been brought and they did watch part of the night but fell asleep before midnight and slept until dawn. Upon waking they searched around where they had left the boy, but there was nigh a trace of him. "Alas! The boy is lost!" said one woman. "Yes," said another, "And they would consider it getting off lightly if we were only burned or executed." "Is there any hope for us?" "There is - I have a good plan." "What is it?" they all asked. "There is a deerhound here with pups. We can kill some of the pups, smear Rhiannon's hands and face with the blood, throw the bones before her and insist that she destroyed her own child - it will be her word against the six of us." They agreed and settled on this plan. Towards daybreak Rhiannon woke and asked, "Women, where is my child?" "Lady, do not ask us for the lad. We are nothing but blows and bruises from struggling with you, and we are certain that we have never seen such a fight in any woman, so that all our struggling was in vain." "Poor souls," said Rhiannon, "by the Lord God who knows all things, do not accuse me falsely. God who knows all things knows your words are false. If you are afraid, by my confession to God, I will protect you." "God knows that we will not bring harm on ourselves for anyone's sake." "Poor souls, you will come to no harm telling the truth." But whether her words were kind or pleading, Rhiannon got only the one answer from the women. Pwyll Head of Annwfn rose, with his company and his retinue, and the incident could not be kept from them. The story went around the land and all the nobles heard it. They assembled and sent to Pwyll to ask him to separate from his wife because of the terrible outrage she had committed. Pwyll replied, "You have no reason to ask me to put away my wife, except for her being childless, and since I know that she has borne a child I will not part from her. If she has done wrong, let her be punished." Rhiannon summoned teachers and wise men, and as she preferred being punished to arguing with the women, she accepted her punishment. She had to remain for seven years at the court of Arberth, where she was to sit every day by the mounting-block near the gate and tell her story to those who might not already know it. She was also to offer to carry guests and strangers to the court on her back, though it was seldom that anyone let himself be transported thusly. Rhiannon spent part of a year in this manner. At that time, the lord of Gwent Ys Coed was Teirnon Twrfliant, the best man in the world. Teirnon had a mare in his house, and there was not a more handsome horse in the whole of the land. Every May Eve she foaled, but no one ever knew anything of the colt, so that Teirnon, in talking one night with his wife, said, "Wife, we are fools to lose the foal of our mare every year without getting even one of them." "What can you do about it?" "It is May Eve this night," said he, "God's revenge on me if I do not find out what fate the foals have met with." So he had the mare brought inside while he armed himself and took up watch. As night fell, the mare foaled. The colt was large and without flaw and already standing. Teirnon rose to note the sturdiness of the colt, and as he did so he heard a great noise. A great claw came through the window and seized the colt by the mane. Teirnon drew his sword and hacked the arm off at the elbow so that the colt and part of the arm were inside with him. Hearing a loud crash and a scream, he opened the door and tore out after the noise, but the night was dark and he could see nothing. He was about to rush off to follow when he remembered that he had left the door open. When he returned, he found a small child in swaddling clothes and wrapped in a silk mantle lying beside the door. Teirnon picked up the lad and noticed that he was strong for his age. He then closed the door and made for his wife's chamber. "Lady, are you asleep?" "No, lord, I was, but I awoke as you came in." "Here is a boy for you, if you want him, for that is the one thing you have never had." "Lord, what story is this?" she asked, and he told her what had happened. "Lord, what kind of cloth is this the boy is wrapped in?" "A brocade mantle." "Then he is the son of noble folk. Lord, if you approve, this could be a joy and a comfort to me. I will take some women into my confidence, and we will let out that I have been pregnant." "I will gladly agree to that," Teirnon said. The boy was baptised in the manner usual for that time and was given the name Gwri Golden Hair, because what hair was on his head was as yellow as gold. He was brought up at the court, and before he was a year old he could walk and was sturdier than a well-grown lad of three. At the end of the second year he was as strong as a six-year-old, and by the time he was four he was already bargaining with the stableboys to let him water the horses. "Lord," said Teirnon's wife, "Where is the colt you rescued the night you found the boy?" she asked. "I gave it into the care of the stableboys and ordered it to be looked after." "Would it not be a good idea to have it broken in and given to the boy? After all, you found the lad on the same night the colt was born." "I will not argue against that - I will let you give it to him." "God reward you, lord, I will do that." So the horse was given to the boy, and Teirnon's wife went to the stableboys and grooms and commanded them to look after the colt and break it in for when the boy would go riding and there would be a story about him. Meanwhile, they heard the new of Rhiannon and of her plight. Teirnon listened to the tales about her punishment and made constant inquiries. He heard numerous laments from those who came from Arberth over Rhiannon's misfortune and disgrace. He though about all this and looked closely at the lad. It was clear to him that his appearance was that of his father's. He had never seen father and son who resembled each other so much as Pwyll Head of Annwfn and this lad. Pwyll's appearance was well known to Teirnon, who had once been in his service. Teirnon looked now and was seized with anxiety, for he realised how wrong it was to keep a boy whom he knew to be another's son. He went to his wife and told her it was not right for them to keep the lad and allow so noble a lady as Rhiannon to be punished when the boy was actually Pwyll's son. His wife agreed to send Gwri back to Pwyll, "For we will gain in three ways, my lord: thanks and gratitude for releasing Rhiannon from her punishment, Pwyll's thanks for rearing the boy and returning him, and finally, if the boy grows into a good man, he will be our foster-son and will always do the best he can for us." They decided to give the boy back and the next day Teirnon and three companions equipped themselves and set out, with the boy as a fourth on the horse Teirnon's wife had given him. They made for Arberth and it wasn't long before they arrived. When they reached the court they saw Rhiannon sitting by the mounting-block, and as they drew near she said, "Chieftain, come no nearer. I will carry each one of you to the court, since that is my punishment for killing my son and destroying him with my own hands." "Lady," answered Teirnon, "I do not suppose any of us will allow you to carry him." Then the boy said, "Let him be carried who will, but I will not." "God knows, friend, none of us will." said Teirnon. When they entered the court there was great rejoicing at their arrival. A feast was about to begin. Pwyll himself had just returned from a circuit of Dyfed, so they all went in to wash, and Pwyll was glad to see Teirnon. They sat down thus: Teirnon between Pwyll and Rhiannon, and his two companions above Pwyll with the boy between them. After the first course they began to talk and carouse, and Teirnon told the tale of the mare and how he found the boy that same night. He spoke of how of how the lad had been in the care of himself and his wife and how they had brought him up, and he said to Rhiannon, "Lady, look upon your son, for whoever lied about you did wrong. When I heard of your grief I was sorrowful and grief stricken myself. I do not suppose that anyone in this company will deny that the lad is Pwyll's son." "No, we have no doubt that he is," they all said. "Between me and God," said Rhiannon, "What a relief from my anxiety if all this is true!" "Lady, you have named your son well," said the Chieftain of Dyfed, "For Pryderi son of Pwyll Head of Annwfn is the name which suits him best." Rhiannon answered, "Ask if his own name does not suit him better." "What was his name?" asked the Chieftain of Dyfed. "We called him Gwri Golden Hair." "Then Pryderi should be his name," said the Chieftain of Dyfed. Then Pwyll said, "It is right to name the boy after what his mother said when she received good news of him." So they named him Pryderi. Pwyll said, "Teirnon, God reward you for bring up the boy all this time. If he grows into a good man he too ought to reward you." "Lord, my wife reared the boy and no one in the world could grieve more over losing him than she does. He ought to remember, for my sake and hers, what we have done for him." "Between me and God," said Pwyll, "I will maintain both you and your land, so long as I am alive and able to maintain myself, and if he lives, it would be more fitting that he support you. If you and these nobles agree, since you have reared him until now, we will send him to be fostered by the Chieftain of Dyfed henceforth, and you shall all be companions and foster-fathers to him." Everyone agreed that this was a good idea, so the boy was given to the Chieftain of Dyfed and the nobles all allied themselves with him. Teirnon and his companions then set forth for their own land, amid gladness and rejoicing. Teirnon did not leave without being offered the finest jewels and the best horses and dogs, but he would accept nothing. They remained in their own realms after that and Pryderi son of Pwyll was brought up carefully, as was proper, until he was the most perfect lad and the handsomest and most accomplished at every feat in the kingdom. Thus they passed the years until Pwyll's life came to an end and he died. Pryderi ruled the seven cantrefs of Dyfed prosperously, beloved by his country and by all round him. Moreover, he conquered the three cantrefs of Ystrad Tywi and the four cantrefs of Ceridigyawn, and these are now called the seven cantrefs of Seissyllwch. He campaigned until it was time for him to take a wife, and he took Cigfa, daughter of Gwynn the Splendid, son of Gloyw Wide Hair, son of the ruler Casnar, one of the nobles of this island. With that this Branch of the Mabinogion ends.

He was almost in tears as the legend ended.

Too many parallels.

Both had been victims.

Both had suffered harsh injustice.

Both had been different.

The legend had a happy ending.

His best friend hadn't been so lucky.

Had it all been some kind of cruel joke?

A single tear trickled down his cheek as he went to log off, then changed his mind.

To:    elisabette_s_@hotmail.com   [Lizbet] From:  mmmbop@aol.com   [nobody in particular] Help me Liz. Please - Tay

Quickly, he logged off and locked himself in the tiny space that was his bedroom.
For tonight at least.

* * * *

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