Believe

"I have something to show you," she said, her violet eyes laughingly shimmering as she stared into his clear pool-blue ones.

He smiled.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I can't tell you. It wouldn't be a surprise then."

"All right. I like surprises."

She took his hands and led him down to the back of the dark, cold castle laughing. They soon entered a dark, drafty room, where the only furnishings were Muslin curtains and a marble gargoyle in a shady corner. The cold slabs of gray stone were angry and unyielding to their Nike sneaker-covered feet. It was then that things began to get just a little strange.

She walked to the marble gargoyle, and pulled forward a tiny cane that protruded from its hand. The wall opened before them, and she led him inside as the wall slowly ground shut. There was no light in the shadow-filled passageway, and yet she seemed to know this well enough to not need any light. The air smelled of mildew and standing water, with dust particles floating through the shafts of light that wafted in through small windows, all no more than ten inches wide and perhaps the same long, near the ceiling. The floor was damp and cold, with a slightly slippery feel that gave him the image of green algae growing underneath his feet. In the distance, a crow cawed a melancholy note that echoed over the hillsides and flowed past the twos' ears like the rush of a river. How did she know about this, when it was so obviously hidden away from sight, he asked himself? He made a mental note to ask her later.

"Where are we going?" He asked, fear penetrating his best attempt at a calm voice.

"Shh," She cooed softly. "Don't be afraid. You will see. We are nearly there now." And with that, silence once more.

He squinted into the black distance, trying to make something out.

Then, he saw it.

A perfectly rectangular large, brown door with black hinges and handle was only about five meters ahead of them. The door looked old and rotted, and yet was still attached to the stone wall.

"Is that where you're taking me?" He asked softly.

"No more questions now," She said quietly, yet firmly as well.

He felt the fear and nervousness boiling in the pit of his stomach as they grew nearer and nearer to that door.

Just how long have I known Sheena anyway, he wondered? Longer than I can remember right now. Ha. I guess I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did. No, the Sheena I remember told me before she did stuff like this, always gave me a warning.

He thought back to that morning…

"TAY!!!!!" Zac bellowed across the house, which afterward left Taylor's ears ringing. I've always said that kid's got a good set of lungs, he mused.

"WHAT???" He yelled back.

"Geez, you don't have to shout," Zac said, walking into the room. "Sheena's here for you."

Those pretty violet eyes he loved so much then materialized before him, followed by blonde hair, pink lips coated with a sheer matte shade of lipstick, and white shoulders. His 'Sheena' smile, a smile he got only when she was around, melted across his face as he looked her over, from head to foot and back again.

Then he remembered that he was still sitting in his white tank top and red striped boxer shorts.

"Hey Sheena," he said, pulling his sheets up to his chin. She smiled.

"Hi Taylor. Sleep well?" Her light 98 pound frame caused the edge of the bed to squeak only slightly as she sat on his mattress.

"Yeah, but it would have been better if you were here," Taylor answered coyly, eyes sparkling.

"Um, I think I'll leave you two alone for a while," Zac said, and strode briskly from the room.

Sheena leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

"I know it. But I've got something to show you today, and it's very important."

"When?" He completely forgot about being embarrassed and pulled the sheets away from him, sitting up next to her. She looked him over a few times, then returned her eyes to his.

"Whenever you want."

"I'll get dressed." He stood up, smiling. She did also, a flirty smile playing on her lips. Her eyes were sparkling again, this time more than ever.

"Can I help?" She draped her arms around his neck.

"I'd like that very much," He answered, resting his arms on her hips, and leaning in for a kiss.

"Taylor?"

He blinked.

"What?"

Sheena was looking at him strangely.

"Are you okay? We're there now."

"Oh, yeah." They were, indeed, standing in front of the rotted wooden door. "Yeah, I'm okay." She smiled.

"Good." Sheena reached forward and pushed on the handle. With a groan, the door opened before them. To his amazement, there was nothing outside of the door but blue sky. The green stretched on for hundreds of miles until it touched the sky far in the distance. Straight down was a cliff, and farther down were sharply pointed rocks. Taylor's head snapped up and he looked at Sheena.

"What's going on, Sheen?" He asked. She only smiled.

"There's something you do not know about me, and you must know now. I love you very much, and I cannot keep this from you any longer."

Then, with a swift movement of her arms, her black robe was lying on the ground, and she was unbuttoning her shirt. Taylor just stood by and watched, mouth hanging slightly ajar, as her shirt joined the robe on the floor. But what caused him to fall over was not the sight of her topless, but rather the leathery black wings that stretched outward, one just brushing the tip of his nose, from her shoulder blades. They were beautiful, with a slight purple and green iridescence to them that shimmered in the sunlight.

"Taylor!" She cried, falling to her knees over him. "Are you okay?"

He blinked a few times, a bit dazed, for more than one reason, and then rubbed his eyes. Her wings were outstretched behind her, providing shade for him from the setting sun which poked it's head through the doorway.

"I think so. What are those? What are you?" He asked, standing up.

The wings flapped twice, proving a rush of wind towards his face. She threw her head back, letting her hair fall down her back. Then she smiled at him.

"I am one of an dying breed of creatures. We were some of the very first inhabitants of this planet." The wings folded about four times before lying flat against her back. "We look like any normal human, and even though are only a handful of us left, we blend into your society perfectly. We are all over this world, and study your species very carefully. You are very interesting to us." A soft smile found it's way to her face. "I've been studying your family line for just over a century."

"A century? That's how old you are?"

She thought for a moment, then said: "Actually, I'll be 150 in November." A pause. "That is considered very young for us, for we can live to be 450 years. Anyway, we come out mostly at night, when it is quiet. Then we fly. Out over the ravines and canyons, we talk about what we have learned about you, and then we go back to our country homes to sleep. But during the day, we are just average humans, going to work or school, talking with human friends who have no idea of what we really are. We live in the country because the air pollution in the cities, especially the exhaust from the cars and cigarette smoke, makes us very sick."

"But what ARE you?"

"I am a Hychruna." (*Author's note: pronounced 'hi-kroo-na'*)She sighed. "I guess I should also tell you that my name is not really Sheena. Really, my name is Taisheenan, but I've found that Sheena is easier to pronounce anyway."

"So, let me get this straight." Taylor placed one hand on the top of his head, the other on his chin. "You are two hundred years old, and a creature called a Hychruna. Your name really isn't Sheena, but Tai….Taish….Tai-something."

"Taisheenan."

"Right, whatever. Your name is really NOT Sheena, but Taisheenan, and you fly. Do I have this right so far?"

"Yes."

"Okay, good. Now, I've known you for, how many years has it been?"

"Five."

"Right, five. But now that I think of it, you actually haven't changed that much at all."

"Yes. We age very slowly. So five years ago, I still looked like this."

"Oh I see." He sat down on the stone again, trying to absorb all of this new information he'd been given. "So, if you can fly, show me."

"All right." Sheena slid on her robe, forcing her wings out the back. She slid off her jean shorts, and tied her robe. She flapped her wings, producing a sizeable amount of wind, and slowly lifted off the ground. Taylor stared bug-eyed as she tucked her hands in her pockets and fluttered gently above the ground at about a 45 degree angle in front of him. Then she laughed and took off straight down through the doorway. He jumped up and watched her plummet towards the rocks.

"Sheena!!"

Her wings were tucked against her back, as she dropped towards a certain death.

"Sheena!! Please!!"

Then, only about ten feet from the rocks, she spread her wings and zoomed back upwards. She flew straight past the doorway laughing, and did a few loop-the-loops in the sky, and flew back toward him.

She landed gently in the ledge, and smiled. But before she could speak, her smile faded into a look of utter concentration. Then she frowned.

"Oh no."

"What? What's going on, Sheena?"

"They need me. I must go."

"Go where?"

"Elsewhere. Far away. Something terrible has happened." She gathered up her clothes as she spoke. "My father is ill, and I have to go to him."

"Are you coming back?"

She looked up, her eyes suddenly sadder than he had ever seen them.

"I don't know."

"Sheena-" He started, his cerulean eyes brimming with tears.

"Shh," She hushed, and kissed him gently. "I'll see you again. But I must ask that you do not tell what I have told you. Our race is a very, very secret one. The only reason you do not know about us is because when your Government found three of our bodies, they kept it a very secure secret, but as far as I know those bodies are still there. Don’t forget me or what I've told you. And please, if nothing else, then just believe." She pressed her lips to his one last time, and, with hardly a glance back, took off into the distance.

*A week later*

"Yeah right," Isaac snorted, buried behind a Tabloid newspaper.

"What?" Taylor asked, strolling into the kitchen.

"Get a load of this." Isaac threw the tabloid onto the kitchen table. On the cover, was a girl of about seventeen with large, black wings, extended full length, attached to her back at the shoulder blades. It read: WINGED GIRL SPOTTED IN FRENCH CANADIAN SKIES. "They probably edited that picture." Taylor's smile widened.

"Anything's possible, Ike," He said, shrugging. "You've just got to believe."

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