by Mitzi Danielson-Kaslik
I turned a harsh corner, as appropriated by the path and the scene before me shocked me. Sylvester and Marius were facing each other, rapiers draw. Sylvester’s waves of chestnut hair whipped around him as he fought. And Marius fought back. Both men – brave men – fought so fiercely. My first feeling was panic; one of these man, one of my lovers (only one of whom I had slept with), was about to die. Secondly, I felt fear, almost as if this situation were my doing, thought through my jealously, I could not fathom how it was entirely my own fault. Sylvester. He was the one who had loved Camille. But there was another feeling; an odd sense of joy – for the first time in my life someone wanted me, not one, but two men, both handsome and charming and passionate were fighting over me. Though my own sense sickened me, I found that I felt far more feminine than I ever had done in an odd way. To myself, it was never what I would have described as typically feminine; I was slender and small with long dark hair and at around thirteen my chest had emerged. On top of that, I had what had been described as a soft rather over enunciated voice with a certain musicality to it. You see, I was not in the least bit feminine. Returned my thoughts to the present moment, my lovers were fighting. The clash of the rapiers and the silvery metal flashed in the subtle light of the moon and the stars almost like stage effects, as if they were in a play to which I acted as both a willing and unwilling audience.
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