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My mother felt a sudden shiver down her spine. Rapid electrical pulses flood her veins waking her from a dream of a baby being born. She took wild, rapid gasps trying to steady her pulse. Her golden eyes were wide in the dark night trying to figure out what was happening. The feeling that flows through her body is hard to explain, she herself cannot understand it. Stories have only been told to her about it.

She always knew this day would come, the day that a special human would be born. The human that she would live to protect until he was eighteen. She hoped that protecting him would be easy; her mother, my grandmother, had told her stories that it was hard for her to keep her father, my grandfather, safe. This boy would become my father.

Years went by as she tried to stay near without him seeing her. It seemed really creepy to her to be following him from town to town, but somewhere deep down she knew it was important to keep him safe. If something was to happen to him and he died, a part of her would die. At least that is what the stories from the family book had said.

The time came when she would meet my father; well officially meet him that is. The moment when she would approach him and let him fix his eyes upon hers.

She takes long graceful strides down the brick sidewalk towards him, her dress flowing in the wind and her corset tight. Her long, golden brown hair flowing down her back in curls.

The day is beautiful and sunny with chirping birds. The wonderfulness of it being exaggerated by the moment. New booths of flowers and baked goods were set up at the market. She could see him standing with his mother by the flowers, happiness radiating from him.

Finally she stood before him. He is shorter than her only by a couple inches. His hair is a dark brown almost black, which seemed to glisten in the sunlight.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hello,” he and his mother say in response.

He looks up at her face into her golden hazel with his bright green eyes. There is a snap and tightness in the invisible threads that always held them together over the years. His eyes grow wide.

“Do I know you?” he asks while watching his mother proceed down the walk.

“I am not certain,” she responds.

“Your face is memorable,” he says persistently. “May I ask your name?”

“But you recognize me, I thought.”

“You seem familiar, but I do not know your name. May I have it, Miss?”

“Alice. Alice Marshall.”

“Nice to meet you, Alice Marshall. I am Antony Edwards,” he says while taking a gentlemanly bow. My mother was not expecting him to act in this way. Thoughts of keeping him safe hold a steady flood through her mind.

“Nice meeting you, too.”

My mother told me these stories after I found out our family secret. I do not remember exactly what happened on their first meeting. They went on a brief walk down the brick walk. She said that their bond was unusually strong at first. It had been some time since a promise, or soul mate, had noticed their promise. This usually resulted in a powerful offspring, but this is not about me.

After their first meeting, my father courted my mother with old fashioned ways, which was the normality of the time. She enjoyed it, so she let him proceed. He was also very protective over her, even though she was the one destined to keep him safe.

The night is cool and pleasant. They are at the walk where they first met. My mother has plans to tell him her secret, and my father has plans to make her his forever.

“Darling,” they both say at the same time.

“Go on,” mother says.

“Darling,” he clears his throat, “I feel as if our souls were always meant to be connected. My love for you is profound.” He bows down on one knee, exposes a small black box from within his pocket, and opens it. Mother gasps at the beautiful ring. “My love for you will last eternity. I promise you that. Alice Marshall, will you do the honor of being my wife?”

Mother is speechless, not knowing how to respond to this question when Father did not have the opportunity to know the true her.

“There is something I suppose you should know before I answer that.” Father’s face grew grim. Then mother’s eyes grew wide.

“Stop right there. Mister,” a man from behind Father says as he holds onto a gun. Father turns his head slightly to look at the man.

“Now let us not be so hasty,” Father says to the man.

“Mister, just give me your money.” The man holds a pause. “That ring, too,” he says as he points at the ring in my father’s hand and shakes the gun.

“No!” Father exclaims as he puts the box back in his pocket.

“Now!” the man yells, walking closer to them.

***If you want to read more feel free to email or IM me. For some reason when I post additional stuff it puts it at the top.