It’s exhilerating to stand this close to the edge of something; to have death staring me straight in the face. The water is thrashing underneath me, and for a moment I entertain the thought that it will just spit me back out if I decide to jump in. But why would that ugly mass of green spit me back out? I am no different than any person whom it has taken before me. In fact, I am probably even more insignificant than anyone else. Sure, I have a kid who would probably cry if I died, and a wife who would hate me for leaving her with a girl not even six and with another baby on the way, but right now, I do not really care. The cliff crumbles underneath my toes and I wish that I was strong enough to find out whether or not my brother felt any pain after he slipped into the oblivion.

It would be so easy to die. To jump off the cliff. To raise my wand and utter a curse that would end this pathetic existence. It would be too easy. So easy that I shouldn’t allow myself to entertain these thoughts. But I so dearly want to see Colin again.

Mother kneels by the body and kisses Colin’s hand. She presses it tightly to her pursed lips. Her tears trickle down his limp arm as a small sob breaks from her while she says good bye to her eldest son. Father has a hand on her shoulder. He squeezes it tightly, but I can’t tell whether it is meant to hold her up or to keep him from losing control. His eyes are wet: the closest I have seen him to crying in my short existence. Louisa, my younger sister, takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. From my peripheral vision I can see her looking up at me. There is a lot of concern in her small eyes. As usual, she sees more in me than I would like her to. I think she senses the pain that lies just beneath the surface of my cold face. I just hope she does not see the guilt beneath that. She knows something happened when he died. Something I have not told anyone.

My mother beckons me over, to look at him. She has made her peace, and my father has already shuffled out, broken and defeated. As she passes by me, she grabs my arm with her tiny little hand. “At least now, he is in the hands of God,� she whispers to me before following my father out. In the momentary pause before she starts for the door, I see that she has lines across her face that I had never noticed before. She turns back to look at me as she walks out and offers a weak smile that breaks my heart. I watch her walk across the parking lot to the car with the shuffle of a cripple. And then I go to face the thing I have been most dreading.

Louisa is already standing beside him, looking at his face as it will remain forever. She reaches out and runs her hand along a face I can’t see. A face I do not want to see. She looks up and sees my hesitant face. “It’s alright,� she says quietly, taking her hand off of the body. She beckons me with her hands. I slowly come to the place where my brother rests. My feet drag as I walk over to him. Do I even want to see him? I want to run, but it’s already too late.

Death has made his body so incredibly small. I avoid his face, avoid the fear that my greatest hope, that this is not him and he will walk through the door any moment laughing at me, will be destroyed when I see it. Louisa walks away, leaving me alone.

I stand in silence for a while, waiting for my miracle. I refuse to look at his face, because this can’t, will not, be him. Mother and father identified the wrong body.

And yet I find myself adressing Colin when I do finally speak. “Colin, I’m sorry,� I say through the heart beating loudly in my throat, “It’s not fair. You were the brave one: you should be standing here, not me. You should be here and I should be the dead one. Hell—you would be if I hadn’t been so damn stupid.�

I break off. I look at his face. It is his as it always will be. He will not get any older, he will not get any taller and his features will not change. Those are his eyes, closed forever, and—God this is so hard. He looks so peaceful now that life is over for him. Like he doesn’t care that he is dead. At least he doesn’t have the look of fear I have been dreading. Doesn’t the killing curse leave a person with a frightened expression in death? It kills me a bit that he looks as he does. Shouldn’t he have been afraid to die? Shouldn’t it have worried him what was coming?

It seems like everyone is saying I shouldn’t blame myself, but I can’t help it. Without me, Mother wouldn’t be crying. Father wouldn’t be so broken. Louisa wouldn’t be looking at me with those knowing eyes. We wouldn’t be dressed in black, ready to send my brother’s body into an incinerator. I watch him for a minute, letting his face burn into my eyes.

And suddenly, I can’t look at my brother any longer. I turn and I run from the mortuary. I run past the car and past the world that does not care that my brother is dead and leave everything behind for the moment. I just run and run and let tears and guilt and pain crush me with their weight.

I run for more than a mile before I notice my parent’s car driving behind me, making sure I do not do anything rash. As I come to a stop I see the frightened looks on their faces. Even Louisa has a glint of it in her eyes. I walk back to the car and apologise to them; it isn’t fair that they see me like that.

My lips become possessed by something I didn’t know was in me and I shout to the crashing waters, “Why did you leave me?� I look heavenward as the first drops of a growing storm fall around me. They land on my face and slowly slide down, like tears I want to cry. I somehow wind up on my knees, hitting the ground underneath me until my knuckles bleed.

I stay there for a moment, morbidly watching the blood slide off my hands in the rain. I hold in a hysterical chuckle. Bleeding is no reason to laugh like a lunatic. But it shows my mortality. How easy this body can be broken. I sit there on my knees until I am soaked through, waiting for the bolt of lightning that should have struck me down a long time ago.

“Dennis, come look at this!� Colin yelled at me as he reached the top of the cliff. The light was hitting him in a strange way: almost like he was a shadow with a golden outline. He looked back at me struggling over yet another boulder about five meters away. He laughed at my ridiculous posture until I was about to yell at him. Then he remembered himself and went back to help, having no trouble getting around and over the rocks in his path. Mother always called him her little monkey, for his toes and his ability to climb into places he shouldn’t go. He once climbed to the top of the tree in our front yard and she had to call the fire department to get him out of that mess.

At last, he pulled me up to the top of the cliff and we looked out to watch the waves.

“You know, I never understood why they called it the deep, blue sea,� he said to me after a moment of admiring the waves. I looked up at him, confused. He noticed me looking and explained further, “I haven’t seen it really blue, have you? It’s been gold and green and other colors, but I’ve never seen water that’s truly blue.�

The rock is crumbling underneath my feet and I can’t help but let everything overwhelm me. I stand again and open my arms to the rain and the wind. This decent into oblivion has been ten years in the making. I am so ready to jump over this edge. I want to do it, I want to leave everything I have ever loved behind. I want to know how he felt when he died more than anything I have ever wanted before. It does not matter that Gabrielle and Alexandria are at home waiting for me, or that Louisa will hate me for leaving her as an only child. I have gone past caring about all of that. I know that Mother will cry and father will stand there gripping her shoulder over my body, trying to keep from spinning out of control and I do not care.

I wonder if they will understand why I did it. Why I had to know. I only told Louisa about that black night. I hope that she will understand at least. I hope that she will explain to them why I should have done this a long time ago. She will help Gabrielle with the baby who will never have to know how truly despicable their father was.

A very small part of me wonders if this is the right choice. A part that wonders whether the baby will be a boy or a girl. If Alexandria will hate me for not being there to protect her when she grows up.

But these thoughts are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. We are all going to die in the end anyway. I am just going to find out what exists on the other side more quickly than most. And I have lived more years than Colin anyway. Why should I have eight years more on this earth than him if he died so that I could live?

And with that final thought, I plunge over the edge.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

-Edgar Allen Poe

I sit up in bed and wipe the dream from my eyes. I push my eyes into the heels of my hands, using the darkness to take the image from my head. It takes a moment to clear the sea rushing up to meet me, but I manage after a few moments of silence.

Even when it is gone I keep my eyes shut for a moment. I let the feeling of guilt wash over me again, appreciating it as I usually do. Every time the dreams break through I feel like I am betraying Gabrielle and Alexis. I want to be strong for them more than anything else. But these dreams keep me weak, small. I want them to stop so badly. I want to live my life without these haunting dreams. I have lived like this for so long; since Colin died ten years ago. I should have let my guilt go a long time ago, but I cannot. Sometimes I go as long as a month without thinking about the night he died, but the dreams always get me in the end.

I lean over and kiss Gabrielle on the forehead.

“Why can’t I be strong for you?� I ask aloud, kissing her again; this time on the lips. I would spend more time kissing Gabrielle, but I do not want to wake her up. I have not even looked at the clock yet and I know that it is earlier than a normal person would be awake. It would be cruel and inhuman to wake her now. She looks so peaceful. I do not want that smooth brow to crumple in concern like it always does when I get like this. I want her to sleep and have no thought of her troubled husband.

I slowly get out of bed. As I stand watching her for a minute, parts of me wish I had not been so selfish when I asked her to marry me. She could have had a man who was better for her. Stronger. Unbroken. I should not have even tried to imagine any sort of relationship with her. But I am glad I did. She turns over, ignorant of me watching her.

I smile as I leave the room.

“Dennis, you get out of bed this instant and answer the door or I will break it down.�

“Dennis, this is your final warning.�

“I guess you’ll be needing new hinges, then.�

And with that the door blows open. I lay lethargic on the couch, gone past caring for anything. Not even she can rouse me from this stupor, I think to myself. I would chuckle at the irony of this personal bet, but I cannot even find the energy to do that. I do not greet her or even acknowledge her presence, yet she wades through the mess I have accumulated and sits next to me on the couch anyway. She leans down and rests against my chest. She lies on top of me for a moment, rubbing my wiry muscles and kissing my neck. I should kiss her back, but I cannot. My eyes are shut, lost to the guilt of dreams. She sits up again, seeing that this tactic will get her nowhere. She places a hand on my bare chest and kisses my forehead. She mumbles something about a fever and then stands. She goes over to the windows. They are so thoroughly covered in drapes that the room is nearly pitch black. She reaches up to pull back the drapes.

“Don’t do that!� I manage to rasp out quickly. She just smiles and throws the curtains wide open.

I raise a hand to block out the sun.

I glance at the clock on the microwave as I enter out kitchen. 3:47. I grimace in spite of myself. This is getting ridiculous. I am a grown man who should be getting a full night’s sleep. I should set a good example for Alexis—face my fears and all—but I am not going back to bed tonight. I am no better than a little kid who thinks the nightmares will be waiting for me back in bed.

Instead of dwelling on the dream I put on some milk for cocoa. Alexis will be coming in a moment—she’s always disturbingly intuitive when it comes to my bad nights. I think she inherited it from Louisa. Right on queue I hear the slight thud of feet in the hall. I pull down another mug. I hear a yawn as she walks into the room. She wraps her little arms around my legs and I turn around to scoop her up like I usually do. She leans her petite head against my chest when I pick her up.

“Did you have a bad dream, père?� she asks me softly, not quite awake yet. I do not answer. I simply kiss her forehead and set her down so I can pour the cocoa. She takes the mug from me and goes to sit down at the table. She pushes back a long strand of white blonde hair behind her ear and stares at the mug for a moment. Then she looks up at me.

“Are you going to sit down or not?� she asks. Just like her mother. She even does the pout. I walk over and sit.

I enter the train with an empty feeling. I wonder whom I will sit with this year. I don’t exactly know. Colin isn’t here to lead the way. It was sort of just him and me last year. The only Muggleborns foolish enough to go to Hogwarts. Even most of our house avoided us. I didn’t hold it against them: they were scared for themselves. It just makes it harder now.

I let myself be pushed along by the current of other kids running along the corridor. I’ll just choose a random door. That’s a good idea. Besides, there is no need to worry about politics and old friendships when you’re alone. I push open a door two compartments further down. All full. Another six down? Full there too. I double back four. Only one person sits inside, yet I hesitate at the door. I summon my courage and push open the door and stop abruptly when I see the girl inside.

It is one of those moments I wish I had brought Colin’s camera with me. The shot is perfect, the light dancing across her cheekbones. Her casual pose is pure elegance without effort. She can’t be more than a second year and yet I think I’m irrevocably in love with her. I shut my mouth, but stand for another moment or so. She looks up at me finally.

“Zo, are you going to zit down, or stand zere gaping at me all day?�

I take the seat across from her and she looks pacified for the moment. She returns to staring wistfully out the window. I clear my throat and she looks back to me. Seeing this as a queue to begin a conversation, I ask, “So you’re from France?�

She rolls her eyes, disdain written across her features, “I vould zink zat it vas obvious. Ma père decided it vould be best eef I study at Hogvarts vile he vorks for your ministry,� in an undertone, she adds “J’ai préfère la Beauxbatons Académie.�

She goes back to staring out the window. I can’t bring myself to reply. I could tell her that it could be worse; that her father could be dead and that she could be alone, but this conversation has already lasted too long. I lean my head against the window and fall asleep.

I tuck Alexis back into bed and with a kiss. She grabs my hand with her tiny one as I turn to leave her. Her petite face is crinkled with concern. “I love you père, even if you are still a bit broken,� she whispers. I take her in my arms again and hug her tightly. She kisses my cheek as I let her go. “Père, can I come with you this time?� she asks. I debate it silently. But she knows she has won. She climbs out of bed and puts on her boots and her jumper. I leave her for a moment to go find some shoes.

This is progress, I tell myself. I usually don’t allow anyone to come with me when this house gets far too small and I need to escape its confines. I do want her to come, and she might make an interesting subject. I tie my shoes and make sure hers are firmly tied before going in search of the camera, which I find under the stack of mail I’ve been putting off replying to. I throw on a light windbreaker, take her hand in mine and head out into the brisk August morning.

I have spoken little to the pretty blonde throughout my fifth and sixth years, so I am surprised that she knows my birthday, let alone got me a present. The shiny paper glints in the sunlight as I debate opening it. She’ll be mad at me if I don’t even open it. At long last I pull it down from my slight stack of presents and begin unwrapping. I tear off the paper slowly, still unsure. Still hesitant.

At last the box appears and I drag a Nikon camera from the mess of wrapping paper. I lift it experimentally up to my eye and snap a photo. I’m not going to force her to take it back, I decide as my hand moulds to the grip of it. It is far too nice of a present for an acquaintance to give an acquaintance, but I’m going to keep it anyway.

I walk out of my dormitory, leaving the rest of my presents unopened, and head to breakfast. She spots me with the thing thumping against my chest as I walk in and comes over. “Do you like it?� she asks. I note that her accent has faded a bit. All I can do is nod, I am so speechless. She smiles and takes my hand loosely in hers. I can take it no longer. I’m beginning to lose myself in fantasies of her. She is far too pretty for her own good.

Despite myself, I manage to spit out “WillyoucomewithmetoHogsmeadethisweekend?�

She smiles even brighter and nods yes.

Alexis runs up ahead, already guessing our destination lays at the beach. I take a picture of her carefree run and allow myself to be lost in the moment. This is nice I decide, noticing that the sun’s rays are beginning to color the sky. Alexis should come more often with me. Her laughter is a nice sound this early in the morning. She waves back at me and I take another picture.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Alexis scoops up a shell and hurls it into the sea. Her footsteps leave small patterns in the sand and I find myself trying to step onto the little in the imprints like I used to do to my father. As the distance between each step gets smaller I give up and sit down. The camera thumps against my chest. I take it in my hands again and raise it to my eyes. Her shadowy outline is all I see on the plain coastline. I lay back on the ground, letting the sand climb into my hair.

“Père, look what I found!� cries Alexis and I sit up as she tears over. She carries over a tiny starfish in her hand. “Look at all its pretty colours, Père! Can we keep him?� I laugh a little: she doesn’t understand that it will die if we take it. I shake my head at her. She throws the little starfish back into the sea without a second thought and gallops away down the coast line. I lay back again to look at the fading stars.

“Are you sure?� I whisper in the spare moment she isn’t kissing my mouth. She stops kissing me and looks me straight in the eyes. Who am I kidding—I know she is more sure about this than I am. But she’s only fifteen. How could I even consider this? I love her—that is no question—but do I give myself to her in this broken state? Is it right that she has me, broken, miserable me, when she could be with anyone she chooses? With all of the things that could go wrong, I’m tempted to tell her that we should stop. But she’s so beautiful tonight. The way her hair is glinting off of her pale bare shoulders. Her eyes twinkle as she kisses my doubts away.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure, Dennis.�

“But what if—,�

She smothers the thought with her lips. This bed is suddenly far too small. I push her off of me and get out of bed. She looks up at me with those pretty blue eyes, her sleeve sliding off one shoulder. She’s confused, upset… She knows why I can’t have this happiness—I’ve told her why not. Why can’t she understand? I’m just as broken as she is by this simple action. I love her so much, but this is the wrong place, and the wrong time. And I’ve run out of excuses.

She looks away from me as I move in close again, ready to try this. She’s hiding tears, I can tell. “I’m sorry, Gabrielle. This should be special with you, and my bedroom isn’t special. Do you understand?� She nods as I pull her into my arms. She mumbles something into my arm, something I don’t catch.

“What?�

“It may not be special. But it’s what I want,� she clarifies, letting herself be held by me. I kiss her again, and I scoop her up in my arms. I carry her out of the door and out of my apartment and into the twilight. I have no idea where I’m going. I just know that she is going to get better than my matchbox apartment. She leans her head against my chest. I decide on the park. Under the stars is far better than my little room.

I set her down in the grass. The full moon’s light brightens her skin and for another moment, I try and fail to figure out why she chose me. Sure I’ve filled out a bit over the years, but I’m still not much. I kiss her on the neck and give myself up to this moment and this choice to let go of the pain for a little while.

She’s just so beautiful.

A scream. My little girl’s scream. I stand up and draw my wand. “Alexis?� I call. I call again louder, more frantically. She may not even be able to answer. “Alexis!�

“Poor little boy, can’t even save his own brother, let alone his pretty little girl.� I turn to the cold voice that wakes me up at night. Amycus Carrow. Alexis whimpers behind the hand that covers her mouth.

“I’m going to get you out of this, sweetie, everything is going to be okay,� I murmur gently, trying to reassure her that everything is okay. A mad chuckle and Amycus raises his wand from her throat to point it at me.

“Tell that to Alecto,� he screeches, “CRUCIO!�

God, what do I do? I can’t find him anywhere. He’s the only reason I came back to this place. But you would know all about that wouldn’t you? If you’re so omnipresent, can you tell me where he is? I slip past another hall and around another corner. He has to be here somewhere. But I don’t know where he went.

I’m about to cry with the stupid hopelessness of this task. How could I imagine it would be possible to find Collin in the middle of a battleground in a huge castle? Mum will kill him when she finds out he ran into the middle of a war. She'll kill me if she finds out I went to find him. If I can find him.

I want to run through the halls, calling his name, but my sense of self preservation tells that would be dangerous and stupid. I can’t summon the courage to speak anyway. But suddenly there he is, fighting Alecto Carrow, struggling for dominance. “Colin!� I cry happily. I’ve found him, I’ve found my brother! I don’t need to worry anymore: I can take him home and we can all be one big happy family again. Louisa can pester us and we can play on our brooms and mum can yell at us for not being better Christians. Father can lift his eyebrow at her and sneak us sweets behind her back. I'm so caught up in the fantasies that I nearly forget where we are.

“Dennis?� he calls, “Why didn’t you leave with the others?� His concentration is breaking now that he realises I’m here. “Dennis get out of here!� He screams at me as Alecto hurls another spell at his head. I duck into an alcove to avoid it. After a moment I ignore his order and step out from my hiding space, my wand raised at Alecto. This is my fatal mistake. In my hurry to help, I don’t realise that his fight is no longer about doing what’s right as he wanted it to be. He’s only protecting me now. Another spell lashes out and slams him against a wall.

“So, Colin, what would you do if I broke your brother a little bit before I killed you?� the hag screams to Colin as he tries to raise himself up.

“No!� he cries out when the Cruciatus curse strikes me for the first time.

It hurts so much I can hardly feel the pain. I’m tempted to let myself just shut down. If I’m dead, at least I wont be feeling the daggers shoving deeply into the skin. But through the constant throbs of it, I can see Colin as he watches me thrash on the floor. He's crying and I don't know why. Frustration? Anger? It makes anything that the old woman can do to me seem pale in comparison. Is he mad because I didn't listen? Or because I took this away from him? Which is worse? I don’t know how long the pain goes on for: maybe for a few minutes, maybe ten seconds. But then the pain is gone. I live on short ragged breaths, stolen seconds. I am gasping to get air into my lungs faster. I twitch slightly, compulsively. I pray for the tremors to stop.

And then it is my turn to watch. Watch as she steps over my body. Watch as she raises her wand to the space between Colin’s eyes. I can barely move with the pain but I have to help him. I have to do something. I raise my wand at her, I have to do something. Colin is too brave to die. He can’t die. God wont let him die. Will he?

“Avada Kedavra.�

The spell rushes past her, but I don’t mean it. You have to mean the Unforgivable spells. And I’m no killer. I may hate her in this moment but I am not strong enough to kill her to save him. She turns around, and looks at me again. A slight trickle of blood runs down her face, but otherwise she is no worse for the wear. She cackles again. My heart stops beating as she raises her wand once more in my direction.

“Your little brother obviously hasn’t learned his lesson,� Alecto whispers theatrically to Colin, “Should I teach him how to properly perform the spell?�

“No,� he breathes, realising the implication. He scrambles to his feet.

“Avada Keda—�

“NO!� screams Colin, using the last of his strength to push her off balance. The spell goes high, but now her eyes are set on the boy who denied her my death. I am too late to save him. I can’t move. I just can’t move. I am so tired. I just want to sleep.

Colin looks straight up at the woman standing over him. There isn’t a glimmer of fear on his young features. Have to save him. Spell. Something. Anything. Save. Colin. The bright green light. Colin.

She’s killed him. Colin is dead because I came for him.

“Avada Kedavra,� I whisper.

It wont bring him back. I know that.

Nor will it make me feel better.

But this time I mean it.

I am a killer.

I knew Amycus would come for me some day. But why today? Why the one day I had someone important with me? Is it because I had her with me? Or did he simply find me at the wrong time? I lay panting in the sand. I look up at the stars. Anything but the thought that my daughter had to witness an Unforgivable. That she'll have to watch this. I’ve lost. I can’t fight back.

“I wonder if your mummy is home. Uncle Amycus will have great fun with her,� he tells her. He’s goading me I realise, and it’s working. With a grunt I roll onto my feet. I move in a couple steps closer and he points his wand at me again.

“No,� I manage to get out before another curse strikes me down. My mind runs to anywhere that isn’t in this body.

“But I thought we were careful.�

“I know.�

“But—,�

“I’m sure of it, Dennis.�

“Don’t get rid of her Gabrielle. I wont let you raise her on your own.�

“Stop it your hurting him,� cries my baby girl as I struggle to my feet again. I don’t say anything. I just get closer to him. He just laughs and knocks me off my feet again. This time I can’t get up. It hurts to much. Alexis needs me to fight for her, but I can’t. Frustrated tears form in my eyes as I struggle to rise again. I can’t move. I can’t save her.

When he sees that I can no longer move, he puts her down. She runs over to me. Lays her head on my chest. This is just like last time. He’s going to kill us both if I don’t move. But I can’t move. I can barely breathe, let alone defeat him. “Père you have to wake up,� she cries. I can barely feel the tears slowly soaking through my shirt. I want to, I really do. I want to save her, but I cant.

I have to. But I’m so weak. He comes and stands over us. Will he kill her and make me watch? Or will he kil me first? He raises the wand again. He’s pointing it at her. A wicked smile dances across his face. The same one his sister had on hers as she struck down a seventeen year old boy. I’ll be too late again, I realise. She’ll die. But I can’t let that happen. She’s staring defiantly up at him.

“Avada—,� he starts.

“Well if it’s not blue than what is it?� I ask at last.

He ponders for a moment.

“White. Blinding white. Because the waters make you clean.�

“NO!� I shout, overcoming the pain to leap up. My fist crashes across his face in an uppercut and I don't waste a second in knocking him to the ground. I hit him again and again. Alexis will not be hurt by him. Cannot. I hit him until he no longer responds to my punches. “You won’t hurt them, not ever,� I cry. My hands are still acting against him. He’s dead, but I can’t stop. I’m can't tell if I'm weak or strong. I’m crying. I didn't mean to kill the man. I didn't want to lose control. I was weak, but I was strong enough to save her. I feel a tiny hand on my back. I stop hitting him, but I'm still crying. A strong man shouldn't cry should he?

“He can’t hurt us anymore.� My hands stop. I look back at her tiny face. She has her mother’s worry lines. She hugs me. I don’t want to touch her with these bloodstained hands. I can't soil her like that. She hugs the pain away for a moment, but then takes my protesting hand. She stands my up and walks me to the sea.

"Get clean, Père," she says. She walks in to the water, pulling me with her. Her little hands rob mine of the blood.

I was strong enough to save her.

And that is all that matters.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning to sail my ship.

-Louisa May Alcott