ERICA WHITFIELD - MY FAIRYTALE

Erica Whitfield is a novelist and website developer. Her primary genre of focus is Fiction. She is currently attending Full Sail University pursuing a BFA in Creative Writing and a member of the Black Student Union, expecting to graduate in August of 2022. She is a member of the American Writers and Artists Institute.

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​My Fairytale

​Something happened to me today that I never thought would happen. Not because I didn't believe it was possible, but because I didn’t think it could or would happen to me. I hear stories about chance meetings changing lives and I thought they were fairy tales. In my tale, there has never been a prince, only demons.
 My current scene with my son's father may be my last production. The stress alone is going to kill me. I am certain it will.  I wanted to leave and never look back, but I couldn’t, for my son’s sake. I was beginning to hate him more and more as every day passed. I hated the life he led and the air he breathed. Every day I wished I could disappear from the toxic, life-draining situationship with my child’s father like water evaporating in the sun.
I was going to my doctor’s appointment in a four-story, old building made of burnt orange bricks, with an old, crappy elevator. It had a horrible, blood-stained green carpet that reminded me of a hotel out of the 1950s. Strong smells of bleach and ammonia singed my nose hairs every time. My worst fear is being trapped in an elevator and this elevator scares me. This is my fourth time here in three months. If my son’s father hadn’t infected me again with another disease wrapped in a useless, I’m sorry I wouldn’t have been there.
As I was getting on the elevator, I felt some cold air. It was an unexpected guest appearance that was much appreciated. It was hot, and I was sweating so bad I could feel my thighs sticking together. When I turned around to see where the air came from, I saw a man. Five feet away, near the building’s entrance, there he was. I don’t know where he came from, but there he was. He had to have been an angel.
“Hey! Hold the door,” the man said as he walked towards the elevator.
He had smooth, blemish-free chocolate skin. Like 1,000 milk-chocolate Hershey bars were sacrificed to make his skin. He had a Colgate commercial smile and a perfect set of lips.
 I nodded yes and continued to stare at him as I became a temporary human doorstopper.
As I stared, I looked into his eyes. He had the most inviting, warm, brownish, soul-searching eyes that drew me in.  He had a diamond-encrusted, platinum halo that I almost missed in my hypnotized state.
“Thanks,” he said while holding the door for us to get on the elevator.
“Welcome,” I responded.
After getting on the elevator, I grabbed the handrail near the back.
“Which floor?” he asked while choosing our destinations on the keypad.
“Fourth floor,” I told him.
After he pressed the numbers, the elevator started to move.
“Excuse me. What is your name?” he asked.
“Kenya. Yours?”
“Eric. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
The elevator started to shake and make weird sounds, then it stopped, and the power went out.
“No! This will not be the day for this!” I screamed.
“What's wrong?” he asked as I held on to the rail for dear life.
I told him about my fear of elevators but still refused to take the stairs. He laughed while moving closer to me. I grabbed the rail tighter, not sure what was going to happen.
“I don’t bite,” he said.
“I’m not-,” I started to say.
“Shh,” he said. “I’m here and I’ll keep you safe.”
“Ok,” I said, knowing I was losing this battle.
I could hear him moving closer towards me in the dark as my worst fears had just come to light. I’m glad he was there with me; he was the only security blanket I had in this horrifying moment. Before he could touch me, I felt this warmth that drew me closer. I could feel my feet moving from the rail towards the radiating heat source.
I fell into his arms, and he caught me. When our bodies collided, I felt a spark of something. It felt like surges of electricity that flowed from him to me or from me to him. I had never felt that before and never wanted to let that feeling go.
“Did you feel that?” I asked.
“Feel what?” he questioned.
“That spark when we touched.”
“Yea, I felt it,”
“Have you ever felt anything like that before?” I asked.
“No. I never have. I only heard about it,” he responded.
“What was that?”
“The touch of your soulmate.”
“Interesting.”
“It is indeed. Do you want to give it a chance?”
I was scared he was Lucifer in human form. The form that comes to you and he was perfect and everything you ever wanted, but he was a sheep in wolves clothing. The kind that manipulates you into loving them and steals everything from you and damn near kills you.
I only knew these types of devils, and I couldn’t bear losing myself again. My heart has been broken too many times, and one more break would have left a pile of crimson-colored dust. In my mind, it was better to stay with the devil I knew.
“I wish I could, but I’m trying to give my son a shot at a real family. Even though it’s killing me in the process,” I told him.
“All families are real, just not whole. Sometimes half families merge and make whole families. I know you need some time to leave. I get it. I will wait as long as I need to,” he said, assuring me that he would always be here.
“Thank you.”
The elevator shook hard, causing him to clench me out of reflexes, and the lights came back on. He pressed his lips against mine in a kiss that made time stop, warmed my soul, and captured my heart. I closed my eyes, wanting to live in that moment forever.
END