What do readers have to say about Paper Hearts?
“A startling original and beautiful story. There's a lot of emotional folding going on here. Origami in text form.” –Ricc B.
“Well-written, brilliantly descriptive and a pure delight to read. And, I particularly enjoyed the twist at the end.” –Moondancer
“Paper Hearts was outstanding! You have a such a gift.” –Jeff O.
“This was amazingly well done, bitter-sweet and touching. The reveal at the end was great.” –Zander Vyne
PAPER HEARTS
by
Alice Gray
SMASHWORDS EDITION
~*~
PUBLISHED BY:
Alice Gray on Smashwords
Paper Hearts
Copyright © 2010 by Alice Gray
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Cover image acquired under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License. Heart Flow by geishaboy500.
~* * *~
The white square of paper trembled in her fingers, refusing to fold along the lines she dictated. Tears of panic and frustration filled her eyes. Stupid, the whole idea was stupid and pointless and never going to work. Why she’d ever agreed to her therapist’s suggestion was beyond her. The idea that folding paper into intricate forms would help ease the pain and horror of her traumatized mind was ridiculous. She saw that now.
Claire blinked, hot tears spilling over her lashes. Her fingers formed claws around the paper, preparing to rip and shred. She was like the paper, flat and plain but with the potential to become something whole and beautiful if she could just bend herself along the right lines and like the paper, she refused to yield, afraid to face the memories that would come with each crease. Her face crumpled at the impossibility of it all. Wanting the paper to reflect her emotions, she snapped her hands closed, crushing it into a useless ball.
The urge to crumple into an identical ball under the desk and let loose the fear and anguish almost overtook her. A public display of her instability would only make things worse. The last thing she needed was an embarrassing escort from the library for shattering its serenity with her madness. She squeezed the ruined paper harder, fighting back her emotions, trying to gain control of them so she could slip away to her apartment and really let go.
“You look like you could use a little help with that.”
The silken voice startled the breath from her. Good thing or she might have filled the library with her terrified screams. The expression of sympathy and compassion on the face of the speaker pulled her back from the precipice though she still couldn’t draw enough breath to speak.
“I’ve never seen anyone let a piece of paper upset them so much.” He smiled then, his face soft and unthreatening.
Claire managed to draw a ragged breath but was still unable to speak. He seemed harmless but then so had…no, not now, not here. She wanted to run but terror lanced through her, freezing her in place. Her eyes, the only part of her she still had control over, squeezed shut, the small reflex unable to hold back the horrifying images in her mind. Teeth slashing at her tender throat. The heavy, impossible weight of him holding her down. Delicate bones snapping under iron fists. The searing, unbearable heat of his ultimate violation.
It wasn’t him, wasn’t the one who’d done so much to hurt her. A quick peek at the stranger told her it was true. This man was slim and dark where the other was a hulking, sinister blond. She thought he might be Japanese but wasn’t sure. Something about him gave her an unfamiliar feeling, not bad, just a feeling of something long forgotten.
Claire opened both eyes, looking down at her clenched fists. “I’m sorry,” she managed to whisper.
The only sounds were the quiet flipping of pages, soft murmured conversations, books sliding from shelves, normal library sounds. Claire dared a glance at the man only to find that he was gone. Relief flooded through her, slumping her bunched shoulders and loosening her grip on the paper. Freed of her paralysis, she made a quick, cursory survey of the library but saw no sign of him.
She heaved a sigh, felt some of her reserve come back. Time to leave before he came back. The ball of paper went into the wastebasket. Claire abandoned the book she’d chosen on the desk, gathered her things and stood to leave.
“I’ll be here the day after tomorrow, if you want help with your origami.”
Claire spun around, adrenaline readying her for flight.
The man stood ten feet away, leaning against a book stack. “I’m very skilled in the art. If you aren’t interested, I’ll understand but I can help you.”
“Why do you care?” she asked.
He smiled again and the unfamiliar feeling grew stronger though she still couldn’t identify it.
“Origami is more than just folding pieces of paper. I’ll be here on Thursday. If you are not, you won’t see me again.” He turned and disappeared between the stacks.
The urge to follow him and demand a better explanation was hard to fight but she thought it best to take her leave. He was a stranger and Claire had more than a healthy fear of strangers.
Though she spent the two days between Tuesday and Thursday not thinking about pretty pieces of paper, Claire discovered she wasn’t surprised when she found herself cruising the book stacks for another book on origami Thursday morning.
Strange, there was only a single book on the stack where before there had been a least a dozen. Her hand shook just a little when she reached to pull Brilliant Origami: A Collection of Original Designs from the shelf.
“I don’t think you are quite ready for that,” the velvet voice said.
She jumped, startled, at the unexpected sound of someone talking when she’d thought she was alone. A sense of peace rolled through her. She let go of the book, her steady hand dropping to her side.
“It’s the only book there is,” she said.
“Not to worry. I took the liberty of bringing a book, though I don’t think we will need it today.”
She gave him a shy smile, a flush of amazement creeping into her cheeks. How long had it been since she’d smiled at anyone? She knew the answer to the question, knew it down to the second. Claire suppressed a shudder and locked the torrent of images behind a steel vault.
“Okay.” It was the only response she could manage.
“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve already picked a spot for us to work,” he said.
Apprehension pushed the peaceful feeling aside.
“Oh, I don’t think…” Claire swallowed the lump of indecision in her throat. “Is there some reason we can’t work here?”
“How about this, let me show you the place I’ve picked and then you can decide?” he asked.
Claire glanced at the library’s security guard.
“I’ll respect your decision, Claire. There won’t be any hard feelings if you decide you’re more comfortable here.”
She looked him full in the face, gauging her willingness to trust him.
“Okay, I’ll let you show me but if I want to come back, we come right back here.”
He smiled and gave a quick bow. “Of course! Come, this way.”
The man led her through the rows of stacks, winding deeper into the library until she lost track of exactly where they were. Her breath caught when she rounded the final turn and stepped into a secluded corner of the building. A single large desk sat alone before a towering wall of windows reaching two stories high. Claire gasped at the small Japanese garden outside the windows.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? This is my favorite place in the library,” he said.
“It’s stunning. I had no idea this was here.”
He answered with just a smile and seemed pleased by her reaction.
Claire had almost forgotten the reason they were both standing there until he spoke again.
“Do you think you’d be comfortable working here?”
The garden set her imagination in motion. “Oh, yes! It’s the perfect place to practice origami.”
“We could wait until next time for the lessons, if you’d rather just enjoy the garden.”
The garden was beautiful but the purpose of today’s library visit was not idle enjoyment.
“The garden will be here another day.” She didn’t say the rest of her thought aloud, that he might not be.
The biggest smile she’d seen yet from him broke over his face. “I’m ready if you are.”
Claire took a seat at the desk. Soft light filtered down onto the table, highlighting a small stack of paper printed with brilliant, delicate designs.
He pulled up a chair and sat next to her, his nearness untroubling.
“Would you like to play a game?”
“A game?” Claire was suspicious but not threatened.
“I was thinking we could start with some basic folds and forms but instead of telling you what we are making, you will discover it once the piece is finished.”
She brightened, suspicion turning to enthusiasm. “Okay.”
He nodded and set a square piece of paper in front of each of them.
“Turn the paper this way, with the edge pointing up like a diamond.”
Claire followed his instructions.
“Now fold it in half, the left point meeting the right.”
She concentrated on his words and the paper in her hands. More instructions. Claire found it easy to keep up with him. Four folds in and a smug smile crossed her face.
“Paper airplane,” she said.
He gave a low chuckle but didn’t confirm her guess. Her smile faltered as she watched him fold the nose of the airplane back against the body.
“Not a paper airplane,” she said.
“No.”
His fingers flew with ease, making the last few creases and bending what she thought of as the wings under.
“Do you need help with the last part?”
“I don’t know.” Claire bent over the project and came up with an identical shape.
“Now, grab here and pull.” He leaned closer so he could point to the place he wanted her to grasp.
The tip of Claire’s tongue peeked from the corner of her mouth as she tugged the small piece of paper. Her eyes lit up with delight.
“A swan!”
“And a very good one for your first attempt.” He was still leaning toward her, a pleased look on his face.
Claire flushed at his nearness, realizing with a start that her speeding heart had nothing to do with fear.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It’s my pleasure.” He gazed at her a moment before straightening up in his seat. “Would you like to play again?”
“Yes, please!”
They spent all afternoon creasing, folding, bending, pulling. The desktop grew littered with paper fauna: swans, frogs, bats, butterflies.
“You have a natural talent. Next time we will work on more complex pieces.”
Next time!
“When can we get together next?” Claire heard the excitement in her voice. Her heart was trip hammering again.
“Saturday afternoon?”
Claire thought she should hesitate, as though she had to think about whether she had anything else scheduled but she answered with barely a pause for breath.
“What time?”
“Anytime. I’ll be here when you are.”
She looked at her watch, surprised to see that six hours had gone by. Her rumbling stomach confirmed the time.
“Wow, I didn’t realize–” She looked up and found the space where he’d been empty. She started to call his name and realized she had no idea what it was.
It was much more difficult to keep her mind focused during the days leading up to Saturday. Questions pinged around inside her head. Most often, the question was whether she’d gone crazy, trusting a stranger. She reminded herself that the library was a public place, always full of people. They even had an armed security guard on staff.
She kept herself busy during the day recreating all the little animals he’d shown her. At night, when the fear and terror tried to sneak in, she closed her eyes and thought of folding brilliant pieces of paper into beautiful, intricate shapes. Claire slept better than she had in a very long time.
She dressed on Saturday morning, taking more care with her appearance than she had in months, even going so far as to apply a light coat of lip gloss. Her biggest fear, that he wouldn’t be there, proved unfounded.
“You’re here early.”
She gave him a huge grin. “Not as early as you.”
His return smile brought heat to her cheeks.
“You look very nice today,” he said.
The burn in her face intensified. “Thank you. Uhm—” She hesitated to ask her next question, unsure of herself for no reason that she could think of. It was a reasonable thing to ask.
“Satoru,” he said, providing the answer to her unspoken question. “My name is Satoru.”
“I’m Claire.” She held her hand out, surprised when he took it and bowed deep from his waist.
“It is my pleasure to meet you, Claire.”
She wasn’t sure if she was expected to return his greeting but she gave an awkward bow just the same, not wanting to offend him.
He straightened, dropping her hand and said, “Shall we go?”
Claire nodded, not trusting herself to answer.
He turned without another word and led her deep into the library. The little corner seemed even more beautiful and enchanting than she remembered. She let out a small gasp, entranced by the cherry trees in full bloom.
“How did I ever miss discovering this place? I thought I knew the entire library by heart.”
“Some things are not meant to be seen until the time is right,” he said, his voice as soft as she imagined the petals of the cherry blossoms.
Claire glanced away from the windows, away from the serenity of garden, and saw a large stack of paper waiting on the desk.
Torn between the tranquil landscape and allure of the paper, Claire hesitated.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said.
“You do?”
“Yes, although it can wait if you’d rather visit the garden.”
Claire cast another longing glance out the windows but the memory of the paper in her fingers and his promise of a surprise decided it.
“Maybe later on the garden. I’d rather get started on our lesson.”
He pulled a chair out for her and took a seat next to her.
As intrigued as she about his surprise, the appeal of the paper was stronger. “You said you’d show me some more difficult pieces this time.”
“I thought, since we made animals last time, that we could make flowers this time.”
Their paper garden grew and spread until soft pink roses, lavender lilies and yellow five-petaled daisies drifted off the edges of the desk, falling softly to the floor. Claire would have been content to sit next to him folding until the pastel piles of paper touched the ceiling.
“I think that’s enough for today.”
Claire looked at him, her disappointment obvious.
“Besides,” he said, amusement coloring his voice. “We’re out of paper and I still have a surprise for you.”
Excitement trilled in her belly. She’d forgotten all about it.
“What is it?”
His laugh rang in musical notes off the walls. He stood and said, “Come on, let’s go out to the garden.”
Claire let him take her hand and lead her outside. The air still held the chill of winter but the breeze blew warm through her hair.
“It’s so beautiful, peaceful.”
They walked over a small, bright red bridge. Water lilies covered the surface of the pond beneath them with kaleidoscopes of green. Claire caught sight of a small stone Buddha nestled on a knoll. She was surprised at the lack of fragrance in the air. The cherry trees were in full bloom but gave off no scent. It didn’t detract from their quiet majesty.
“This way, just over there.”
With his free hand, he pointed out a small willow tree growing beside a short waterfall that fed the pond.
Claire didn’t answer, just followed him, awed to silence by the garden. It seemed larger than she thought possible. The grass under the weeping boughs of the tree was cool and dry when she sat.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” A moment of panic raced through her.
“Don’t worry. It’s safe here. I’ll be back before you can miss me.”
Until he let go of her hand, she’d forgotten that he was holding it. Her palm felt cold without his but she didn’t have time to really think about it. He was back before the worry could creep in. She watched him sink to the grass, almost as though he floated down like the cherry blossoms, something cupped in his hands.
“Here. I made this for you.”
He held his hands out to her, keeping them closed for just a moment, before lifting away the one on top.
Claire gasped and met his gaze.
“It’s…I’ve never seen anything like it. You made this?”
In his palm, a tiny box rested. Not quite two inches square and about three inches tall, it was quite obviously made of paper. The body and lid of the box were deep matte black embellished with panels depicting delicate embossed green ferns, the panels themselves bordered by thin dark gold edges that glinted in the sunshine.
“Go ahead, take it.”
She plucked it carefully from his grasp, surprised at how sturdy the box felt.
“It’s not empty,” she said.
“No, but before you open the lid, you should set it down here.” He brushed his hand across the smooth, flat top of a small rock that sat between them.
She followed his instructions, still marveling at the beauty of the little box.
“When you open it, pull the lid straight off without touching the sides of the box.”
“Okay.” Her words came out a whisper. With fingers that trembled, Claire eased the lid up in a single, smooth motion.
“Oh…” The soft exhalation was all she could manage before the tears filled her eyes and obscured her vision. She blinked and stared at the tiny diorama contained within the box.
With the lid no longer holding them in place, the sides had dropped away to settle in the shape of a symmetrical cross on the flat surface of the rock. Four intricate paper dragonflies sprang up out of the box, bobbing in the soft spring breeze, wings glinting with rainbow light. A fern motif decorated each panel that made up a side, the vein of each frond highlighted with topaz jewels. Delicate, yellow paper flowers accented the ferns, each with a tiny, jeweled center. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The tears flooded back. She heard him shift, felt him settle himself next to her, close but not too close.
“In Japanese culture, we believe that dragonflies represent new light and joy. They are reminders that we are light and can reflect the light in powerful ways if we choose to do so. If you let them, they will help you see through your illusions and allow your own light to shine in a new vision.”
Claire brushed tears from her cheeks and took a deep, steadying breath.
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you seems so…pathetic. Thank you.”
He took her hand in his, the warmth radiating up her arm.
“You’re welcome. I’m pleased you like it.”
She squeezed her fingers tighter around his and met his warm, liquid gaze. Fire danced in his deep brown eyes, touching her with their heat.
“So bright,” he whispered, reaching slender fingers up to caress the places on her face ravaged by the other. “I won’t hurt you.”
The words I know came to her lips. Instead of speaking them, she showed him with a light, gentle touch of her mouth against his. He sat, still except for his fingers, which sought the places ripped and torn by a monster, his touch smoothing the raw edges.
Claire wound her arms around his neck and leaned back, pulling him with her until the cool green grass met her back. He settled next to her, his mouth still on hers and ran his fingers across the pale crescent-shaped scars on her throat. Silvery strands of light flashed in her mind, flowing into each other like quicksilver, their jagged edges knitting together, folding and bending until a perfect lotus flower bloomed forth.
She stared with blind eyes, entranced by the effect of his touch.
His tongue traced the gentle swell of her lips. Burnt orange, a shimmering butterfly flitted around the lotus.
Claire pulled him closer, eager for more and kissed him hard. The flower and the butterfly shattered into a river of color behind her eyes.
“Show me more,” she whispered, her fingers searching for the buttons on her shirt, ready to expose the rest of her scars. “Show me all of it.”
It seemed their clothing melted away until there was nothing left but the silk of his skin, the whisper of his lips against hers, the solidarity of twined fingers.
A suckled nipple brought forth a pale, perfect rose.
A black paper panther sprang forth when his tongue dipped into her navel.
Claire reached for his hand, drawing his fingers across her collarbone, healed now except for the small ripple where the bones had knitted themselves back together. A graceful crane spread its wings and took to the sky when he touched her.
She drew his hand across her ribcage, feeling the staccato rhythm of his fingers’ advance. Serpents twisted, writhing with their urgent need for freedom.
With newfound strength, Claire clamped her hands around his wrists and twisted with all her might until she sat atop Satoru.
His eyes were fire and rain and wind.
Desperate for freedom, she closed her eyes and took him deep.
Her crumpled form of self unfolded, bright and amorphous, a clean slate.
Claire rose up, her deep cry resonating through the garden. Her soul creased and folded.
Another thrust, another crease.
Each acceptance of him folded her faster, hotter.
The edges of her existence curled and blackened. Cleansing flame took hold, orange and black, hunted like the tiger.
A primal scream erupted from her throat snapping her head back. The world contracted before exploding in a blinding white flash that stopped time. Claire howled in triumph.
“Miss?”
Someone shook her shoulder.
“Miss? The library is closing. The checkout lines will be open another five minutes before closing for the night.”
Claire pulled her head up from the warm nest of her arms and met the librarian’s concerned gaze.
“We’re closing,” he said, his tone apologetic. “But you still have time to check out books, if you like.”
Confusion clouded Claire’s head. She shook it to clear her thoughts.
“Okay. Thanks.”
The librarian gave her a cautious smile. “Five minutes before we close,” he said.
Claire nodded and was happy when he left to spread the message to other patrons.
With the librarian focused on closing time, Claire took in her surrounding. She wasn’t in the garden. Satoru was nowhere to be found. In fact, she found herself sitting where she’d started her day: the main room of the library.
There was no trace of him.
Five minutes. That was all she had.
Claire pushed away from her carrel and began winding her way through the book stacks searching for him, for the garden, for anything. She found nothing but rows and rows of books and the librarian.
“Ma’am? The library is closed. We open again at 8:00am.”
Panic snuck around her heart. “Where’s the garden?” she asked.
The man gave her a puzzled look. “What garden?”
“The garden next to the library,” she said.
The man’s puzzlement turned into a frown. “There’s no garden by the library.”
A pit opened in Claire’s belly.
“Have you seen an Asian man?” she asked.
The man gave her an apologetic look. “There are so many people who come here each day, I couldn’t possibly…” He shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.
“Never mind.” She turned away from him and started back through the stacks.
“Ma’am?”
The librarian’s footsteps sounded behind her. “Ma’am? The library is closed. I’m going to have to ask that you leave and come back tomorrow. Ma’am?”
Claire ignored him, following the twists and turns of the book stacks. All she found were tomes laden with fiction, non-fiction, history, sports, science but no Satoru, no garden.
Her desperate race through the library ended at the carrel she’d claimed as her own earlier in the day.
On the desktop sat the book she’d chosen, a small stack of pristine paper, and Satoru’s tiny box that held within its depths the brilliance of her paper heart.
~* * *~
Alice Gray is a freelance graphic and web designer with a passion for writing erotic fiction. Her work has appeared in Clean Sheets Erotica Magazine, Frequently Felt by M. Christian, and the Erotica Readers & Writers Association’s Treasure Chest for 2009 and 2010. Alice lives in San Francisco, California with her husband and two young sons.
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