Metempsychosis

By G.W. Oppenheimer

Ahena was a mere servant to the prince, when suddenly they fell in love. This was short- lived when they were executed on the king's orders for dishonor to the throne. Centuries later, Johanna, a senior in high school, begins to have glimpses of this love affair not spoken of in history books. When she finds out that someone else was having the same visions, she is more than enraged to find out it was her childhood crush, Demitry. He tries to convince Johanna that this is not a coincidenc

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781681392684

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Copyright © 2015 G.W. Oppenheimer 

All rights reserved 

First Edition 

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC. 

New York, NY 

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2015 

ISBN 978-1-68139-267-7 (pbk) 

ISBN 978-1-68139-268-4 (digital) 

Printed in the United States of America 

Please…No…Don’t go, she says almost in tears. 

All that can be heard throughout the echoing walls is his jagged breathing. 

I love you, he whispers. 

Don’t go…Please. Tears slowly begin trailing down her cheeks. 

He sucks in a sharp breath and groans in pain. She looks down at his wound, 

My dear, I’ll see you, he says weakly catching his breath. In another life. 

The tears were now uncontrollable. She leans down and presses her lips against his. In a moment, he’s gone. His eyes would never be opened again. 

Everything else passes in a blur. 

The mob begins pounding at the door. She caresses his forehead, taking a lock of his hair and putting it behind his ear. 

In comes the mob.

Many centuries later… 

And that concludes the epic tale of Ahena and Ludwig, announces the drama teacher. By our very own Demitry L. Taylor. 

Everyone stands and cheers…everyone but me. 

I stand and exit the auditorium. 

That man is a disgrace! He stole my story! Well…he stole my plot and characters. But…how could he have? I’m not even done writing it, and for all I know, he has no knowledge of my notebook. 

I went directly to my locker and put away the books of the classes that I missed because of the play. 

Everything I wrote had been a dream I had. The dreams had started a few months after I started eleventh grade. I’m almost at the end of twelfth grade now, but it’s irrelevant. I’ve never told anyone of it, nor have I showed anyone the notebook. I hadn’t even told Noah. 

I keep beating my head against the wall, trying to come up with a way that he could have stolen a glance at it, but it’s impossible, I take it everywhere. 

I walk to the next class. It’s completely empty. As I enter it, I automatically walk to my seat, at the end of the row of seats, next to the window. 

It’s not possible for him to have read it! Ugh! I dislike him so much. Why can’t I bring myself to hate him? 

I put my backpack down next to my seat and pull out an old clunky black hardcover notebook with a million papers sticking out of it in all types of directions. 

I stare at it and sigh. I will finish writing my story! I don’t care if he published his and stole my idea. Heck, I wasn’t doing mine for fame. I crack the notebook open where I had left off and began writing. 

I just wanted to remember…. 

A young gangly looking girl knelt next to a riverbank washing a white button shirt on a wooden washboard. A very attractive young man styling a royal red cape approaches her. Tucking his hair behind his ear, he clears his throat, making her look up. 

Good morning, your majesty, the girl says as she stands and curtsies. How may I be of service? 

What is your name, miss? he asks completely out of context. 

A—Ahena Urie, your majesty, she answers taken aback. 

Lovely name, he says and flashes a beautiful smile. 

Thank you, she says in a frightened voice. Aware that she is supposed to be working. 

Ahena, get back to work, yells a man in the distance as if reading her mind. 

I am so sorry, your majesty, but I need to get back to work. She curtsies once more and kneels back down taking once again the stubbornly stained shirt. 

No, says the prince firmly and grabs her arm. You’re coming with me. He began walking toward the palace as she reluctantly tried to get free from his grasp. 

The walk was brisk and decided; he knew where he was taking her. She knew this was premeditated. 

Finally, they made their way to a secluded tower on the east side of the palace. His stone-hard grip still has her trapped, they