A Love Letter to The Ric Flair Donair Burger

Everyone who has been following me on Facebook or Twitter knows that I was selected as a PEI Burger Love Blogger. Well, all my assignments were done and today is the last day of this month long, province wide celebration! I had to go out and find one more love to share my heart with and when I came upon the Big Orange Lunchbox, I knew this would be an experience to remember!

In honor of The Ric Flair Donair burger, I wrote this review and have some photos to share with you. Try not to eat your computer while you read this...

To understand the total epicness that is the Big Orange Lunchbox's Ric Flair Donair Burger is to know the love of Island Beef. As a girl, finding herself at the end of PEI Burger Love, I can't say I wasn't already lamenting the end of our fabulous month of culinary excellence. I was convinced that there was no way I could find a love that would last all the way until Burger Love 2014...

And then one day,
One magic day he passed my way

Who is he, you ask? The Ric Flair Donair Burger! And oh, what a magically memorable day this became once I was met face to face with such a paragon of Burger Love. As I was presented with this impressive Burger, the first thing that struck me was that there, surrounded by home made donair meat, roasted garlic donair sauce, veggies and a coriander bun was 9oz of purely fresh Island Beef.
With my first bite into this epitome of deliciousness, The Ric Flair Donair hit me like a love song that only needs one phrase, "Postman, postman, we're the perfect pair, send this love letter care of the Ric Flair Doniar!".

Every taste after it was like being introduced to the perfect Burger over and over again! It was fresh, crisp and perfectly seasoned. The peppery donair meat met the sweet and sour pickles for a trio of heavenly sensations dancing on my tongue. And while the provolone cheese melted in between the donair and beef, it created a soft creamy flavor alongside the zip of red onion and make perfect companions for the roasty garlic donair sauce that has a pinch of uniqueness that make it a taste exclusive to the Big Orange Lunchbox! Topped off with that gently spiced presence of the incredibly fresh house made Coriander bun and you're on a trip to Burger Love Cloud Nine!

The Big Orange Lunchbox is where's the party's at and with Ric Flair Donair at your side, you'll never look at a Burger or Donair the same way! All others pale in comparison to the vivacious combination of flavor, tang and spunk that Chef James brought to life in this treat for the senses. My taste buds owe you one, Chef!

And there's a true moral to this epic love story on the last day of Burger Love. It's never too late for true love and...

The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return

Burger Blogging for PEI Burger Love

To all of my readers from Prince Edward Island, you know the glorious feeling that April brings. Spring is here, the blooms are budding, the birds are singing and we've got a month of culinary excellence spread out across our entire Province!
You know what I'm talking about...PEI Burger Love, the amazing event where chefs create the most amazing creations in beef that man or woman has ever been subject to. As an ardent lover of PEI, Island Producers and food artistry it only makes sense that this is one of my favorite times of year!

As such, I was given the opportunity to be a an Official 'Certified' PEI Burger Love Burger Blogger! What does this mean, you ask? Only that I get to go and eat, savour and write Love Letters to Burgers that are so worthy of adoration that I wish I had a choir with me here to sing their praises!

So far I've had the chance to enjoy The Griffon Burger at the Dundee Arms, as you can see in the first picture with Sous Chef Michael and I.

And...Found my "Soul Mates" Burger at The Pilot House, where bonding with this Burger was like true second nature!

I've written odes to both of these Burgers terrific, live-changing qualities that I know by now you're just drooling to read...
So click away to visit the Official PEI Burger Love Website and find out what your next meal should look like!

The Griffon Burger - The Dundee Arms

The Soul Mates Burger - The Pilot House

An Epic Interview Celebrating From Away

When I asked readers to send me questions for an interview to celebrate the end of my serial story 'From Away' in the G! Magazine, I was overwhelmed by the way everyone wanted to pick my brain! Luckily, I just adore people doing this and find it thoroughly entertaining to answer just about any question a mind can conjure up. That said, questions of all kinds poured in and I did my best to select the ones that covered the most popular topics and threw in a few that struck me as funny!

But let me just say this, when it comes to From Away general consensus is that I either know, am in love with or have a hidden connection to Erik Deror. My all encompassing response to this is a resounding..."Erik, if you're out thee, drop me an email! I think we may have a future together!"

I would really love to thank everyone who sent me questions, I appreciate your interest in my complicated mind and am so thankful to have such a brilliant, creative and supportive readership. You all mean the world to me and these past seven month of having 'From Away' in the G! Magazine has been terrific!Without further ado, let the interview commence:

Roseanne via Facebook
Well, well there has been a question I've been burning to ask you...does Erik personify a love interest from your past...or a special someone your heart is drawn to?

M.K.R: Ah, Erik Deror; I can tell you one thing first off and it's that I've become very attached to him as a character. He however doesn't represent anyone from my past; if I had been lucky enough to meet someone as charming and disarming as Erik, I'd likely be married. Even so, however much as Erik has taken on a life of his own, is an allusion to someone who my affections are drawn towards.


Charity via Email
Inspiration is different from everyone, and it's fascinating to know why writers write what they write. What inspires you to write?

M.K.R.: If I had to boil it all down to one thing; the characters. An author spends more time with their characters than they will with any other physical human being. It's impossible not to since they're essentially a part of you. And when you're that connected with any one sense of being, they become a very real thing to you and from that stems an extremely strong need to tell their story. To express to people what the characters can't say for themselves. That responsibility in itself a massive force of inspiration.


Lydia via Facebook
Do you prefer writing with or without your socks on?

M.K.R.: Haha, I love your question! I gotta say though for this one...socks off! Maybe I'm trying to soak up creativity in the floor? Let out extra creativity into wherever I happen to be at the moment? I couldn't tell you for sure... But if the occasion arises when I'm in need of some fancy footwear to keep my toes happy; I find Toms my favourite things to write in and wear.


Celia via Facebok
Who is your muse? Where do you derive your inspiration?

M.K.R.: Muse is such a broad spectrum for me. I could apply it to any number of things, music, environment, books, fashion, lifestyle and all other matter of sensory experience. In the end it all boils down to humans; mankind, which has always fascinated me. All humans at some point become my muse in the things that they do or create. Of course some humans are more beautiful than other to me in their nature and temperament but I can become to comfortable with those specific people. It's those times that I find great revelation in learning to love other types of humans. So muse is a never-ending discovery for me. Although, I've noticed a suspicious trend in my interest regarding people whose names begin with a certain letter of the alphabet but I won't say which since it would be too revealing.


Kevin via Email
"What kind of music do you listen to when you write?"

M.K.R.: Well from the 5,000 song selection on my MP3 player, it's hard to pick just a few to mention. I tend to listen to movie scores a lot because they create ton of action and emotion without confusing what I'm writing by listening to lyrics. I will, however, listen to songs with lyrics if they come from a deeply artistic place. Most recently I've been listening to Hans Zimmer, Danny Elfman, Joe Hisaishi and Jack White's music.


Dillon via Facebook
As a reader AND writer do you feel the message you convey is more important than your audience's interpretation?

M.K.R.: It's a delicate balance really. When I'm crafting a novel, especially particular scenes, I often go back to what the reader's experience will be with the book. Author, character and reader relationships are specifically important for emotionally driven moments. The character's job is to deliver an experience, the reader to absorb and relate to it. As an author it becomes my responsibility to make it something both character and reader can share. Interpretation is key because no matter what it may be that I'm conveying, if I don't make it accessible to as many people as possible, it's lost is efficacy.


Kaye in Person
Is Erik Deror a real person that you know or is he a creation of your imagination?

M.K.R.: Erik is a creation of a creation, made as a compliment to someone; he's a lot of different pieces put together really. Honestly, no matter how closely related any character is a real life person, I could never say that was who they are once they hit the page. Any character, Erik included possess very strong personalities that won't be held within the boundaries of just one person. So even though Erik was made partially with a human in mind, that particular person has become very diluted through the process of Erik taking over his role.


Lydia via Facebook
Do you wake up in the middle of the night with a burning urge to write? Does said burning urge exist and if so, can it be repressed?

M.K.R.: There is definitely a burning urge and mostly it comes in the form of conversations characters are having in my head. They can either be talking to each other, vying for my attention or really expressing something profound about a story. That said, it can hit me in the middle of the night. The reason it's in the middle of the night though would be because they haven't let me sleep to begin with.
I can't really repress the experience and honestly it's better not to. If I'm lying in bed I'll just take it all in and record it in the morning. If it's during the day nothing can stop me from writing. I typically have my trusty writing book with me but if not I'll use napkins, facial tissue, pretty much the nearest thing to me that I can write on. I've always got a pen with me.


John via Email
"So you're always wearing a hat or something on your head. What's your obsession with headgear?"

M.K.R.: I've been asked this a lot in person because I do wear hats or scarfs every day, no matter what...and it's safe to say that they've become a part of me. As for why i wear them, there's been theories but I'm partial to the idea that they keep all the ideas in my head where they belong. It makes sense to me!


From Brenda via Facebook
What kind of stories do you like to write?

M.K.R.: I've discovered that I like to write almost any kind of story, as long as it challenges me on some level and is sort of offbeat. Ironically those are always the stories that come to me, the ones that I can relate to on some level emotionally and that make me step out of my comfort zone a little more each time. I find that a fundamental quality of my work though, the more I'm challenged the better my stories become and so it's grown into a bit of a craving. I want my stories to be the best they can be for my readers and I know the most effective way I can do that is through defying any form of convention I might have. I've grown a lot as a person and a writer through that and so it's safe to say I'll keep using this method for as long as I write.

My Short Story Indulgence: Figment

Something incredible happens when an author gives them self total abandon. When you take the opportunity to write something that's very much akin to an extremely emotional piece of modern art. On that concept, I've written a fictional short story that takes a deeper look at the concept of fiction itself, of the power that it has and the way humans use it to escape from reality.

My short fiction story "Figment" puts that under a microscope. Exploring the potential of someone completely given to the lure of fiction and how they're treated in return for such a strong obsession.

Without borders, I've used an artistic style of language and illustrated for readers something that I feel is like a very decadent dessert. So enjoy this indulgence and let it inspire your mind to see what you're capable of when fences are down and you're completely free.

"Figment"

Author: M.K.R. Mossey

That day when the little girl tumbled down the rabbit hole; she was in stitches.
Crowing in merriment during her descent from humanity.
She didn't grapple as adults do, clawing desperately to hold onto the superficial surface.
She could do better.
She wanted to do better than any of them ever had.

The laws of life and death were the first to be thrown away and this utopia could be whatever she wanted.
Perfection was no longer subjective, it became as close to her as what her mind could create.
Unrecognisable to the naked eye, that little girl is me.
Was me.
Is still a part of me with my caustic behaviour burning up the threads that keep me anchored to reality.

It was amusing to hide in the interfernestration. Peeking between reality and fiction at my whim. Taking advantage of both while they mocked me in my ignorance.
Selfish little girl.
Foolish little brat.
Those are the things they said behind my back.
Wanting it all and letting go little by little the further I stepped.
Loping down the garden path with pleasantries on my lips.

Conjuring up chimeras at will, invisible companions that served me in my imaginary world. I was never alone, every second was peppered with a fascination towards what would happen next.
Every square in the chess board suddenly belonged to me and I was intoxicated with the sweet nectar of power and the sheer ambrosia of control.

The Queen; myself.

Given to the nature of my position and a sense of entitlement that grew increasingly detrimental with every spoken word. The crown on my head was cacoethes, so powerful a diving force that each judgement I made became increasingly ludicrous and fanciful. I assumed roles of Queen and Subject. Fulfilling the duties of Murderer and Martyr. So palpable in their essence were my creations, each one with tender words to pacify my fitful existence. But like the tyrant Queen, when I was finally bored with one of my subjects I would kill them. My hands dripping with golden rings created from the ichor of my imaginary casualties. The mourning of the victimised subject that followed was simple audacity, blaming them for having left me alone and claiming vengeance on the evil that let them perish in such unsavoury ways. The masks I would wear were all part of the masquerade, the game of tactics which stained my heart with inky words of every movement I made.


The King; my world.

Bonded to my every move by the consequence of an accidental union. I laid upon my King a mantel of affection which made him bend and conform to every absurd wish I could conceive. I was wilful child, spoiled by her beloved and indulged in every possible form. Every brick in the path, each building in my view, filling the spaces in empty fields and re-drawing every line my vision fell upon. He would colour them in unrealistic shades and trace over the physical with delightful renditions of fictitious muses. Everything was a gift, wrapped up in surrealism for my collection of fabricated memories where I could be whatever I wanted while hidden in the shadow of my King's robes. A sire
to my phantasmagorical children as they came forth from the fabric of oblivion.


The Bishop; my conscience.

Nagging, pulling, pleading, begging through pathetic excuses that filled my mouth with acrid words which I refused to swallow. Bitter medicine that was easily spat out and traded for sharp insults used as a blade to combat logic, dripping with the venom that had filled every pore in my body until it reeked with that intoxicating virulence. I silenced the Bishop so easily in my times of rest, disregarding his sage advice as a nothing more than incessant rubbish. But in moments of discontent when I had been forsaken by my own creation I would retreat to him for absolution. I would nag, pull, plead and beg for an invocation that would cleanse my guilt ridden soul. Each time my repentance would lead to unrepentant folly and the vicious cycle was permitted to continue...


The Knight; my love.

Enticing me with his innocence and ethereal beauty. He was purer than the King and fairer than the reality I had left behind. Our affair was so potent a poison that I became addicted. Each thought laced with the saccharine sweat of our effort to meet against the odds of my mortal existence and my Love's tenuous connection to the realm of physicality. Sight unseen, there was still no retreat from his ubiquitary presence, every voice downed out by his mute demand for my attention as a Queen brought to her knees by illusory power. Keeping himself constantly beyond my grasp, I was inches away from insanity but ultimately obsessed with something I could never have. A game so dangerous it turned my blood to adrenaline and left me begging for more behind the wailing tears, praying for an end to the unceasing cruelty.


The Rook; my guardian.

The gossamer veil that I had drawn to protect myself. To keep my world from others and from the taint of their judgements. The champion that I used to shield myself from the aggressors of sensibility. My self assassinations were few but in the days when my nameless world was threatened, the Rook would hold my hands, lacing our fingers together so that my tantrum wouldn't give into cataclysmic urges. The sweet air that belonged to The Rook was transferred to my lungs, a drug that not only protected the world but me along with it. Each time the corners of creation came free for mortal view, the Rook drew them back behind the curtain of my abode only leaving unsuspecting humans to wonder in it's wake.


The Pawns; my playthings.

People around me forced to be unwilling participants, unwitting enablers in a world where they never knew they existed. Each one dressed in garbs that suited my perception and daily capriciousness. In the front line of my army, I would concatenate each figure and assign them a role in my theatrics. Kind, wicked, pious, vicious, virtuous, apathetic, empathetic, sympathetic but never dominant. Fulfilling the final role required by my voracious appetite for variety and constant stimulation. I used them in their place, no matter their significance they would become a member of the troupe under the fathomless reign of my sceptre. My toys were so numerous that I knew not what to do with all of them but as each position fell in line I could see them clearly for who they were, exactly who I wanted them to be.

The day I descended I had been in stitches, but the stitches came undone when I couldn't climb back out.

The apocalypse approached and my instincts scattered away from the crumbling foundation of all that I had created. But my betrayal and abandon were vain exercises as the mire consumed me, throttling from my throat a caterwaul that would shake the core of my entire being.

Stripped of my title, I suffered a clandestine death, the dust of my destroyed realm stinging my eyes and pulling forward repentant tears that bore the stench of my sins. I created alone and perished without anyone to aid me, the people on the outside only able to see a contented smile.

...and as everything slowly slipped away into the arid silence of realisation, I was left with nothing more than the waning petrichor of nihil.

My Mechanical Heart - Chapter Ten

This week of "My Mechanical Heart" is marked in a bittersweet way for me. It's the final chapter of this story and something that I feel was able to express what I loved the most about Will and Helena. The idea of acceptance, dealing with life's curves and embracing one another are all key notes that I hoped would be presented through their relationship.

I bid them farewell sadly; but have an inkling in my heart that it won't be a final goodbye. It's more of an adieu. I can feel my fingers itching to chronicle more of their time together...but when that will be remains a mystery.

But as I step back and observe the story on a whole I feel that boiling it down to one sentence can be very aptly done through Karen O's song "Strange Love" as she sings 'When there's beauty on the inside; the outside there's nothing to change."

So I thank everyone who has shared this time and story with me, I wouldn't have done it without you because a writer's work isn't truly complete until someone enjoys it.

Chapter Ten

- Helena Cope -

The weeks after which followed the dance were strictly ordinary according to Helena's standards.
But that was the amazing thing.
In all the qualities of life that Helena strove for, this was it. So many people would run around trying to impress, trying to make people notice them. For Helena being the centre of William's world was more than enough.
They would rely on each other and in an environment where they were nearly invisible, that was just fine. There was nothing particularly wrong with meaning the world to one person as long as you both felt that your purpose had been fulfilled.
At least that's how Helena felt and she was positive Will was just as completed by that same philosophy.
And on a typical Wednesday, after their classes were over, William and Helena would make their way to Maple Bakery for one of her favourite events.
A 'Gelato Date'.
While she sat in one of the Bakery's window seats, William would go and get a large cup of the delicious Italian ice cream with two spoons and sit down across from her with a quiet smile.
The treat was tasty but it was the company that made it all worth while.
One half of the cup was filled with banana flavor and the other chocolate. The latter facing Helena of course since it was her newly found favourite food. She was in fact obsessed with anything that had chocolate in it; even making efforts to bake better, new and improved triple chocolate cookies. Her surprising respect for chocolate had made Helena into a good baker and a quality that she was quite pleased with.
In the end, she chalked it up to another thing that William had taught her.
But today, as he slowly ate he gelato and waited for Helena to start before he made conversation, she watched him guiltily.
"Hey Helena...is everything okay?" He finally asked as she seemed to refuse to eat.
"Yeah...I guess." The girl replied, poking her little spoon around until her side of the gelato started to go mushy.
"I thought you never lied." Will said, reaching a hand across to table.
But instead of giving him her hand; Helena pulled out a piece of folded office paper from her bag and placed into Will's outstretched palm.
"What this?" He asked, staring at the white sheet.
"Read it..." Helena said softy, turning her face away and staring blankly out the window. And as William read out loud, Helena felt her heart jolt off and on from the way it wracked her emotions.
"Dear Mr. Cope." He started, realising it was for Helena's father-creator. "We, a the New York Museum of Modern Art are pleased to say we have reviewed your submission to our collection. After reading your passionate letter and examining the material you sent with it we are thoroughly impressed at the artistic engineering and modern thinking approach you have taken in the creation of 'Helena'. We take every effort possible to ensure that our Museum houses the most innovative and unique works of art across the globe. It is with all this in mind that we cordially invite you and your..." William's voice slowly slipped away from him in a tone of disbelief and Helena could only turn to look at him painfully.
"They want you?" He asked with a sudden wave of sadness to his usually unshakable positivity. "They want you in New York?" William said again, as if it would be any less true if he repeated it.
The words that Helena had rehearsed in front of the mirror over and over after Clarence had given her the letter failed Helena horribly as she reached forward and took William's hand; the letter crinkling between their palms.
"I found out this morning. I didn't know how to tell you." She said apologetically, staring down at their wasting cup of ice cream before William reached forward with his other hand and gently lifted her chin. His pain was just as clear to Helena she was sure he could see her own on display. But in front of all that, he forced his lips into a brave smile of acceptance that Helena wanted to kiss away.
"Isn't this what you wanted? What you were made for..." He asked delicately, already knowing the answer.
It took a moment for Helena to reply; she knew that he was right and while she wanted nothing more than to stay in their small, blissful existence there was something more that which she simply could not ignore.
"I don't want to leave you." Helena said, knowing that there wasn't a point in agreeing with something they both already knew.
"Hey, I don't want you to leave either..." Will replied weakly, one of those endearing chuckles passing his lips as he said it. "But what else is there to do? This will...complete you, it's what you've needed all this time." His statement was confident but the end of each word wavered with helplessness.
Helena knew that wasn't true; even though William thought that she needed this to make her feel total.
"No." Helena said in the firmest tone she knew how. "That's not true...it's you I needed. Will. I needed to come to this point into my existence, my life, before I could move onto what Clarence created me for." She explained, more assured of this than anything in her life. "If I hadn't met you...people would have loved and admired me vainly. I never would have been able to return any of it or even understand what it means. Everything would be wasted and for nothing, You taught me how to love and be loved. Without that...I'm nothing more than a pile of gears turning towards no purpose." The smile on Helena's face was understanding and grateful. "All those times people refused me was for me own good. Can't you see? If it hadn't happened, we never would have met." Was all Helena was able to say before Will pulled them both to their feet and boldly kissed Helena in the Bakery.
Maybe it was something that he wouldn't have done on any other day but the combination of realisation and understanding was so potent that he didn't know how to describe himself with words or phrases.
It would take something purely emotional for him to convey the strong feelings of love and pain that Helena's words had evoked in him. He would miss her; life wouldn't be the same until he could find a way for them to be together again.
...But until then he had to seal the moment somehow.
Of course, this was one of those moments between people that was simply understood and as Helena stood there in William's arms she knew that he was telling her so many things at once.
Thankfulness, completion, love, devotion and sadness of parting. Will's heart was on his lips. But most of all there was the knowledge that this was a promise; a bond that she too desired to keep between them.
And so that day Helena Cope and William Auditore's paths were entwined together, no matter how far they were made to part or the distance of time fate forced between them seeing one another again and they sealed it with a kiss.

- The End -

My Mechanical Heart - Chapter Nine

Happy New Year to all of my readers; I'm looking forward to giving you all a yearof new and fantastical stories in 2013. I hope that this year has already started off great for everyone and that the coming months will bring plenty of reasons to wake your imaginations.

This week in the Vaughan Weekly and on my Blog I have Chapter Nine of My Mechanical Heart. Last we saw of William and Helena it looked like their might have been a wedge driven between them from Will's good intentions at raising Helena's self-esteem. Sometimes things don't go as planed, but maybe if we take the unexpected reaction and do the best we can with it we'll learn a lesson ourselves.

We're drawing closer to the conclusion of My Mechanical Heart so savor each moment just like Helena and Will have learnt to do.


Chapter Nine

- William Auditore -

Will was filled with equal parts excitment and trepidation all at the same time.
He knew that it would be impossible to gauge the reaction Helena would have towards the dress he had bought for her.
He also knew she'd be ravishing, but would she be able to see that?
And as he stood in front of the door, tipping back and forth on his feels, there was a nervousness in him akin to the very first time he returned Helena's school books to her.
When she answered the door at first Will was just in such awe that he failed to notice the expression on Helena's face.
"Wow..." Was the only breathless word he could pull from his lips before Helena yanked him into the house with utterly surprising force.
That was when the hurt and angered look on her face made itself undeniably clear and Will felt his heart sink.
"Why did you do this?" Helena demanded in a heart-wrenching tone as she gestured to the dress that was on her. "Did you think it was funny? Didn't you hear anything I've said to you?" She persisted.
Will was only able to open and shut his mouth, trying to find words as he held up his hands in defence. "Helena...Helena, please listen to me!" Will pleaded.
The girl simply dropped her arms and stared down at her shoes.
"I only picked out the dress because I knew you would look beautiful in it. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted you to see yourself as I see you." William said in the most soothing voice he could muster.
At first Will wasn't sure if his attempt to do something good had done terribly wrong. The look Helena gave him was blank in expression but her eyes were deep in consideration.
"You mean it?" She finally asked defensively. "This isn't like the cookies? You're not lying just to be nice?" She queried on skeptically.
A soft and slightly unintentional chuckle passed William's lips as he reached out and embraced Helena. "Of course not. I wouldn't like about something so important to me." He assured her with a soft smile. "Trust me. You're perfect just like that and when you step out in confidence people will be so fascinated by the real you that they'll only be able to look at you in amazement." Will said confidently, stretching out his arms so that he could take another look at Helena. Over her shoulder he saw Clarence, waiting, watching with a small nod of approval and tight smile on his lips.
Helena's eyes watched William for a moment and he let her go as if to wordlessly say 'I'll wait until you're ready'. And after a second of the girl smoothing out the dress, looking at her self in the foyer mirror and reluctantly brushing her fingers against the stitching in her shoulder. Helena turned to Will. The smile on her face wasn't bright or exuberant but it was placid and accepting.
William couldn't have asked for her to be more gracious in such a situation.
Reaching out and taking her hand, he ushered Helena out of the house and to the car where his mother sat waiting to drive them to the Dance.

*

When William escorted Helena into the Banquet Hall where the dance was being hosted, his senses were overwhelmed by all the points of interest in the room.
Music filled every inch of the space with it's intense bass, lights flashed in time with the sounds and there was a constant buzz of drowned out conversation weaving throughout the crowd of teenagers. If William thought he felt intimidated by everything, he could only imagine what Helena was feeling upon their entrance. She gave no indication that anything bothered her though and William was stunned into silence by that sheer fact.
As the roamed they room together, observing everyone, Helena was so bold as to smile coyly when someone would drift past them and pay her a compliment. Will was sure he heard a few people tell him that he looked good but he merely smiled a nodded; every bit of his attention was spent on Helena with whom he was thoroughly impressed.
They lingered amongst their peers for awhile, tasting the food, taking in the tunes and nodding politely at people. It was too loud to do much or even to have a proper conversation so after a little bit of playing the part of routine party-goers both Will and Helena slipped out into the grand entrance of the Hall.
Sounds still exuded from the room they had left but it was much easier to have a conversation in the entrance where Helena dropped into a lovely wing chair and William sat on the arm of that same chair.
"No one noticed." Helena said in bewilderment, looking up at Will.
"They didn't notice that it was different." He corrected, placing a hand on Helena's shoulder. "When you're simply yourself people aren't blinded by what makes you different; they see it as part of what makes you who you are." Will said thoughtfully. "At least that's what I think." He added humbly, shrugging shyly.
Noddling slowly, Helena seemed to agree with Will as she let her fingers trace the window of her heart. It didn't seem so foreign to William anymore, in fact the clicking of her heart was soothing. William allowed his fingers to trace the stitchesalong Helena's arm; wanting to learn everything he could about what made her who she was.
"You've taught me a lot William." Helena said softly, her dark eyes staring straight into his soul.
"Me? No way, you're the one who's helped me find myself." He said in a truthful tone.
"You don't understand what you've given me William, I can tell." She told him in that soft way that always seemed to mark her charms.
Will was stunned into silence when Helena said this but it was a very lucky turn of events as she song which had been blaring out of the dance room had turned into a lilting melody that William was sure he had heard before. It was one of those popular songs that everyone knows but he just hadn't paid enough attention to.
However with the dim light of the room surrounding them William was inclined to make it something special.
Gently lifting Helena's hand he slipped from the arm of the chair and brought them both to their feet. She looked unsure of what they were doing but it felt too good for William to stop the moment and explain. Instead he brought her close, putting one arm around her waist and holding onto Helena's hand with the other.
Just like their kiss, the first movements of their dance were stiff and awkward but as they swayed to the song there was a natural flow that came to their dance. With the grand entrance all to themselves Helena and Will were able to find a way of their own to dance together across the vast marble floor with sweeping, turning motions that reflected not just the music but the gentle ebb of their emotions and the metronome like clicking of Helena's heart which was the sweetest music William was sure he had ever heard.

My Mechanical Heart - Chapter Eight

Well I've got one more chapter present for everyone before Christmas! This week I have Chapter Eight of My Mechanical Heart and as the characters grow closer we're reminded how grateful we can be; and should be for our friends and family. The people who support, love and care for us no matter who we are or what makes up our unique personalities. I feel that this was a strong message that came through in the relationship of Will and Helena. It was unintentional; but a wonderful thing that I have learnt from them and others too.

I know that I'm thankful not just for my stories and characters but most importantly my readers. There's something very irreplaceable in each of you and I wouldn't trade one of you for the world.


Chapter Eight

- Helena Cope -

How many times had Helena locked herself in this closet?
She'd lost count along time a go, but her mind was full of memories where she would stay there for days and read. She wasn't a human so being self-sustained made it all too easy. Back then when she was nothing more than an art piece it was simple. Helena needed nothing more than her books.
But now something was unmistakably different and the hollow place in her that had once been filled with verse would no longer yield to well memorised novel pages. Instead there was an ache within her that felt like some of her vital gears had been removed and even though her mind protested it, Helena knew that Will was the only one ho could fill those desolate spaces.
But how selfish was this?
How could Helena expect William to sacrifice his social life for her?
And in the deepest reaches of her mind, Helena spent most of her time ruminating over what their friendship would mean for Will's future. If things were to progress as Helena wished and Will too, then it would no doubt become and hindrance for his existence.
It was true, people found it too difficult to accept Helena for what she was and with Will's selfless nature she knew he would give up too much for her sake.
She cared for him too much to see that happen.
She loved him too much to watch him do that.
He needed better, he deserved so much more. Even if William failed to presently realise that.
Yes, love. What a strange and complicated thing it was.
In Helena's world where life was a simple black or white matter, love was confusing. Maybe Clarence hadn't been able to put real emotions into her steel heart, but something unculcated happened. Will had done the impossible and in such a deft way that she doubted either of them could ever figure it out.
Sitting with the thoughts of her mind made Helena feel closer to humanity than she had ever been, it reminded her of the complex emotions she would read about so often. It was while she sat amongst these strange companion thoughts that a voice broke through and pierced Helena's bitter reverie.
It was Will, he hadn't left and given up and there was a part of Helena that thrilled at this. That however didn't change how selfish Helena thought it was to cling to William.
"Helena, I'm not leaving without you." He reaffirmed in a strong yet sweet tone.
While that would have been enough reasons for most people to heed his words, Helena found it a great battle of strength.
Slowly getting to her feet, Helena felt the door knob. It quivered under her hand and Helena could hear a soft gasp on the other side of the door. Will no doubt, picking up on the subtle movement.
Fear had controlled Helena through all of her short life and even now the fear of hurting Will made her want to stay in the closet. But the stronger, more human sense of Helena that William had awoken wasn't thinking about fear, she was urged forwards by the strange and foreign sensation of love that so often made people do things that were beyond their comfort zone.
Slowly the door was pushed open by her hand and Helena stood there in front of Will with a forlorn look. She was still inside the closet and as though he was afraid she might retreat again, Will kept a respectful distance between them.
"I love you too Will...but I'm..." she was going to say frightened but before she could and amazing and unexpected thing happened. A warmth rushed through Helena as she was silenced by William's lips pressing against hers softly and yet firm enough that she didn't want to try and protest.
Both of them were stiff, awkward at first while under the influence of this sudden show of emotion. Helena of course had never experienced anything like this and the grand way books described it were nothing compared to it's true splendour. Even before they both eased into a proper kiss, her arms over Will's shoulders and his around her waist, Helena couldn't have found anything to compare with this.
It felt like little sparks were dancing on the edge of her lips and making her feel relaxed and excited all in the same wave of emotion. There were no words between them and Helena wouldn't have had it any other way. The kiss was sweeter than words and she would have traded the pages of a million novels just for this moment to stretch on even a second longer. Watching William so close to her, Helena could examine his eyes with new depth, the rich, dark brown that seemed to go on forever without any end which mesmerised her.
Everything was beautiful in that moment and fear had been chased away by William's gentle care and tender kiss; letting the rest of that day melt away in a blissful daze.

*

The next day was surrounded by remnants of that same glow which Helena and Will shared through a single kiss.
The whole school noticed it in equal parts of amazement and confusion. Of course, neither Will nor Helena completely understood how strong the power they were under was but it became something they didn't want to fight. Helena certainly didn't want to fight it.
And with the dance that evening she was bright with anticipation to prepare...
Sitting up in her room getting ready, Helena sat before a mirror with Clarence behind her, brushing her messy hair so that it would resemble the distant cousin of a tamed hair-style. He pulled it back and up; pinning it with a decorative black hair comb and sticking what looked like a Victorian hair pin in the bun so that it looked ornate.
"So Helena, what's your dress like?" Clarence asked with the trembling edge to his voice of a nervous father.
He didn't know about the escapade while her and William were Downtown and Helena planned to keep it that way.
"I let Will pick it out." She said, glancing to the bag that she had yet to open. Simply peeking in, Helena saw the colour of the dress which enticed her to heed Will when he asked her not to take it out until she was getting ready.
"I'm sure he picked out something very nice..." Clarence said, one of his curious eyes peeking towards the bag before Helena hopped out of her chair.
"No! You can't see it!" She protested, snapping it up and shooing Clarence out before he could take another look. He was chuckling the whole way out; clearly amused at how she was acting.
The very second Helena closed her bedroom door she commenced to changing from her school clothes and into the dress, very careful not to mess up her hair. She was in such a flurry of excitement that it wasn't until she looked at herself in the mirror that Helena realised what William had done.
There in front of her, staring at her in the mirror was a girl who could have looked pretty; even just a little bit. But the stitches that quilted her shoulder together and mechanical heart in her chest were like a centre piece for everyone to see. The dress didn't hide Helena and her imperfections as she had hoped. Instead it made her prominent and magnified everything that was Helena's essence.
She hated it.
Just as Helena was about to change out of the dress, a gentle knock came on the door.
"Helena, can I see your dress?" It was Clarence.
"No!" Helena protested, heading for the door.
But he was smarter and quicker than Helena. When he threw open the door, she stood like a deer in headlights. Clarence too looked stunned but that quickly shifted into marvel as he looked his piece of artwork from head to toe.
"It's absolutely perfect." He said, approaching Helena and taking one of her hands.
"No it's not!" She growled, pulling her hand away and looking at Clarence with contempt. "It makes me look...ugly! Like myself." She muttered, turning away. "I don't look normal at all." She seethed, feeling angry and betrayed that William wouldn't have chosen a dress she felt comfortable in.
Maybe he didn't truly love her, maybe it was all a big joke. Or maybe he changed his mind and would insult her like all the others.
"I'm not going if I can't be normal." She decided, not letting Clarence get in a word between her flustered statements.
"What's normal?" He finally got to ask, although it was rhetorical question. "Maybe William doesn't want what you think is normal Helena. Maybe that's why he's so happy when he's around you. Maybe, just maybe that's why he picked out that dress...to show you that you're beautiful to him exactly the way you are." Clarence's words were sage and gentle but Helena could hardly believe them.
"How would you know that? You're always wrong! You said everyone would love me before and you were wrong then too." She said behind tightly clenched teeth. Clarence however was unfazed and only looked out the window.
"If you don't believe me, why don't you ask Will?" He said softly.
And as if on cue, the doorbell chimed...