Page 59 of Lost to the Orcs

Why does that make me so sad?

Like a child holding a bird in its palm, I feel a warmth surround what must beme. It is gentle, and warm. Loving and curious.

And then I’m opening my eyes. So heavy. Like I’ve been sleeping forever and eternity. I blink, staring into an unnatural light. So bright. Brighter than any candle. Wait, why would I be thinking about a candle?

I squint at my computer screen. My favorite author has published her next book. It came in the mail a week ago. I’ve already read it.

But I don’t remember reading it.

My hand comes up to my chest, feeling for the scar that should be gracing my skin. It’s a puckered… hole. Not a line? Wait, why would it be a line? I shake my head, trying to dislodge this confusion. This fear that something is wrong.Ifeel wrong.

It’s me. I’ve brushed my teeth and seen my reflection. It’s me. But… things are missing.

I go to bed with this feeling peeling at my skin. My psyche. I wake up with it. I eat with it. And I’m driven mad by it. Day after day and night after night.

What’s wrong with me?

Me.

What? I jerk my head to look behind me. But there isn’t anyone.

It’sme. Not you.

A tear falls from my eye. A tear I didn't prompt. A tear that isn’t fromme.

~~~~~

Weeks pass with my days full of these strange and perplexing moments.

I’m confused about commissions for “authentic recreations”. A new account, I don’t recall making, for authentic archaic clothing. They’re asking for updates. I guess it makes sense that the spare room is full of sewing and other crafting materials. The patio in the back has a piece of furniture for tanning that I don’t remember buying.

And then, the kicker is whenheknocks on my door.

He’s broad of shoulder, with a slim waist, longer than normal hair tied into a low ponytail and hanging over his shoulder. Even if a tiny voice in my heart cries that it’s not long enough, I do my best to ignore it. His eyes are golden in color and he’s got a beautiful smile. That little voice is disappointed with his skin but it is normal beautiful brown skin. The guy looks normal so I don’t know why it would make me so upset.

“I got so worried.” He says, looking relieved when I open the door to his almost frantic knocking. “You call me every morning and yet you haven’t called me in weeks.”

I did get a text from someone several days ago but I don’t remember them. So I didn’t reply. “I’m sorry. I don’t–” He smiles, it’s so beautiful and yet lacking in everything. He cups my face and kisses my nose. I jerk back in surprise. “What? Why would you do that?” His smile falters.

“Addie?” My brow pinches. That… that’s not my name. His eyes widen, mouth gawping and he steps back away from me abruptly. Panic in his eyes. “Where’s Addie?”

“Who the fuck is Addie?” I breathe, panic filling my own chest with its sharp claws.

“Did you send her back?” There is pain and fear mixing with the panic in his golden gaze.

“Send who–

“That was her biggest fear. Going back there.” This man is cracked.

“Stop!” I snap and his mouth snaps closed. “Please, explain. I’m confused. And I don’t understand what the hell is going on.”

His gaze searches mine and he sighs, “C’mon I’ll make some tea and we can talk about this.” He beckons me as if this ishishouse andIam the guest. Am I? I sit in a chair in the kitchen, watching this man who seems familiar but isn’t as he adeptly, walks around my kitchen. He knows where everything is. He knows what he is doing with my things. If I thought I was being stalked he’d be confirming it were him doing it with his actions. But I don’t think that is the case.

What is going on here?

He places a saucer and cup I don’t recognize in front of me. But let’s face it, whatdoI recognize these days? The drink is something I’ve never had before. Honey jasmine.

I stare at it. The herbs still in the drink and look at him confused. “Sorry, you–ah,shecollected them. She loves this tea. Says, even though she doesn’t want to be there, it reminds her of home.” He looks like he’s talking about a deceased friend.

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