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Melissa Albert Books

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The Hazel Wood

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The Bad Ones

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“Once upon a time,' I whispered, "there was a girl who got away.' The light burned a little less brightly through my lids. Maybe. 'Once upon a time there was a girl who changed her fate,' I said, louder. The words ran together like beads on a string. Like a story, or a bridge I could climb-- up, up, up, like a nursery-rhyme spider. 'She grew up like a fugitive, because her life belonged to another place." I held my fingertips out, feeling the ice of them melt the wall's fine, hot fizzing. 'She remembered her real mother, far away on an Earth made of particles and elements and /reason/. Not stories. And she ripped a hole in the world so she could find her way home. And she lived happily ever after in a place far, far from the Hinterland,' I said. I begged. 'And the freeze left her skin. And she found her real mother in the world where she had left her.' Slowly, slowly, I opened my eyes.”

“Why did you make me?' I asked her, before she could speak. I felt like a convict standing on a gallows with a noose around my neck, asking about the nature of God. 'Why like this? Can I really end my story? Were you ever going to let me go?' 'Let you go?' Her voice was honey on razor blades. 'Go to /what/? This is your purpose-- the start of your story. This is what you were made to do.' 'So you lied. I can't really change anything.' She smiled at me, a tender smile that sent fear jackrabbiting through my blood. 'You wouldn't want to... can't you see that yet? The Stories are perfect. The Stories are /worlds/. I made a whole world just for you, and in it you get to do what no one else gets to: you get to live, and live, and live. And everything will come out the way it's meant to be, no matter what. I made it that way.' 'But how is that living?' I whispered.”

“Les ténèbres étaient vastes et coulantes. Elles ondulaient au bord de moi. Tout n’était qu’écho, pulsation, flottement, étirement, sommeil, éveil et faim. Dans mon cœur qui vibrait comme un colibri, quelque chose attendait : un potentiel. Une rage lointaine qui crépitait. Puis il y a eut un souffle, un déchirement en moi et les ténèbres de velours se fendirent. Froid, terreur et lumière blanche glaciale.”

“Let's say your the girl who saved your best friends life. The person who apparently kept her alive With your love and your constancey. With your steadfast disregard for the worser parts of her nature. Like the way she had, of acting like she and you were the last real people on earth. Then let's say she changed over night. Became elusive, Unpredictable. Treated your love like it was a cage Untill you hit your limit And canceled your constancy. Held your love in reserve. saw her for what she was, and let her know it too. What happens then? What becomes of her life? when your sick of saving it.”