The Chill at The Fairgrounds

After a tiring day at school, I came back home to find the house feeling emptier than usual. No one was home and I felt a cold, icy feeling of emptiness all around me as if something was wrong but it always feels like this after my mom, and I get into an argument. As I sat alone in the living room, I couldn’t help but feel tired and frustrated. The house is so quiet that even the slightest sound seemed amplified. I find the silence to be unsettling, especially since my dad and brother are away for the weekend, who knows where my mom is after the fight we had last night, leaving me all alone in the house.

Standing in the kitchen brought me back to last night, my mom and I were arguing about me going to the carnival. “Mom why not?” I said with a louder tone, “Emily, I said no, I am supposed to inspect it this week and something fishy is happening there and I don’t want you there!!” she said with anger in her voice.

“Mom everyone else is going, why can’t you just let me go!” I said with urgency, walking towards my room. “Emily there is a ride there that has been seen as extremely dangerous I don’t want you going, I forbid you from going and that is the end of this discussion, you go it!” she said loudly, “Fine!” I yelled from my room as I slammed the door behind me.

 Suddenly, my phone rang, and I am startled by the sound and I snapped back into reality. It’s my best friend, Makayla. Answering the call, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Finally, someone to talk to. “Oh my gosh, hi Makayla! What’s up?” I said eagerly.

“Hey Emily, I have an idea! Let’s go to the fairgrounds tonight!” Makayla exclaimed with excitement. I listened intently but hesitated, “I don’t know about that Makayla, my mom and I got into an argument about me going since she was supposed to an inspection. She said there was something going on there and she forbid me from going, especially since this one ride ‘The Ultimate…something’, seemed to be having complications and she said never to ride that specific one ever.”

“But the fairgrounds are so much fun, and we deserve a break from our boring routines. Let’s take a chance and experience it for ourselves tonight plus, come on,your moms not here she’ll never know!” “Fine, I’ll go with you!” I said with some excitement because I’ll finally be getting out of this quiet house.

After some time, I prepared to leave for the fairgrounds. I felt a bit nervous and wary because of my mom’s warning last night and with me sneaking out, but at the same time, I knew I wanted to go out and have some fun besides I’m sure my mom is just worrying to much. Makayla showed up a bit later, honking her horn, and I made my way outside. Once in her car, we started playing our favorite songs, and before we knew it, we arrived.

The bright lights of the fair could be seen from blocks away. As we walked towards the ticket booth, I felt a chill go across my body, as if something was warning me not to enter. “Maybe we should go see a movie or something instead of going to the fair tonight,” I suggested, starting to turn around.

“Come on, Emily! You used to be so much fun. Let’s go and have a good time,” Makayla pleaded, pulling me back towards the ticket booth.

“Fine,” I reluctantly agreed.

As I spent more time at the fairgrounds, I felt myself beginning to relax and start enjoying myself. The rush of adrenaline from each ride helped me relax and start having fun again.

 “Hey Emily, why don’t we give ‘The Ultimate Wind Coaster’ a chance. Let’s get on!!” Makayla says pulling me to the ride entrance.

“Wait, this is the ride my mom forbade me from riding. She was very adamant about it being fishy. I don’t think we should do it. Look, there are other rides to go on like the carousel, and you know that’s my favorite. Let’s go!” I said, pulling her away.

 “Emily, come on, why are you still listening to things your mom told you? She’s not here how would she be able to find out. You need to go back to living life like you used to and stop worrying about what she says. Let’s just have fun; just come on!” She said stopping me from going any further.

“Makayla, I still don’t think this is a good idea!” I said, raising my voice.

 “Emily, you’re no fun anymore. Let’s just do this one thing and then go on another ride. It’s only a few minutes, it’ll be over in no time,” Makayla replied with insistence.

 “Fine, I’ll go on this ride with you once, and that’s it. After that, we can do something else!” I said, slowly walking back to the ride with her. “Yes, thank you and come on you know you miss having fun with me!” said Makyla jokingly.

As Makayla and I approached the ride seats, the ride attendant stopped us and asked if we had anything that could slip off during the ride. We both replied that we didn’t have anything on us. The attendant allowed us to proceed, and we got on the ride.

As the lap bar came down, I felt that chilling sensation again. The attendant came over to check my bar, and although it seemed looser than Makayla’s, he nodded a yes to the other attendant to let us start the ride. The speaker began the countdown, and before they even finished it we were slingshotted forward into the ride.

We screamed as the ride went on, and when we reached the first loop, we lifted our arms. However, I suddenly felt that chilling feeling rushed over again. As we went through the loop, I began to feel loose in my seat, and all of a sudden I felt like I was falling out. I began to scream as loud as I could, but no one could help me in time, as I was suddenly thrown out of my seat. I continued to scream for help as loud as possible, but suddenly everything went dark, and the only sound I could hear was the repetitive loop of the fairground’s eerie music fading in the distance.

Written by: Amelia Ceccato

Image Credit

Lost in a Daydream

Winter’s cold breath brushed against Eden’s cheeks, a chill that she drew down her throat and into her chest with every soft breath in and out. Dim street light’s illuminated her face, just barely catching the shimmer of gold in the back of her brown eyes. With one hand she twisted a loose curl of brown hair between two fingers delicately painted purple with a shimmering polish, and with the other, she tugged at her white sweater sleeve. Two nervous habits no one in the crowd surrounding her noticed. Excited chatter filled the air as people from all across town poured into a square far too small to house such a gathering. At the center stood a huge evergreen tree strung with lights that had yet to glimmer. In one corner, a countdown clock ticked down bold green numbers that the crowd kept commenting on, their words blending into a garbled background hum.   

It was the day before December, and triumphant Christmas music poured from the speakers surrounding the tree. “Jingle Bell Rock”, “What Child is This”, and the classic “Little Drummer Boy” added to the noise becoming little more than fuzz in the back of Eden’s mind. Her thoughts, as always, were elsewhere. To her right, she could see her friends posing for photos, and laughing with a few faces she didn’t recognize in the dim light of night. Friends new and old, from all across Williamston Falls annually gathered in the square for the Christmas tree lighting. In their small town, when there was little to celebrate, even the smallest of events gathered great amounts of attention. The events weren’t the only thing that caught prying eyes; newcomers always drew the sights of the townsfolk. Though an unfamiliar face may only be that of ones’ cousin visiting for the holidays, it always garnered attention. In the center of her friend’s circle, Eden noted one such unfamiliar face. There was a bashfulness to his expression, one that came from just a bit too much teasing. The tips of his ears burned red under a cap of wavy black hair, parted like ocean waves to the side. It seemed he was looking for a way out of the commotion, and Eden pitied the poor soul. He’d be stuck in the center of attention all night if her friends had anything to do with it. Yet, while he seemed mildly uncomfortable with the excessive teasing, he played it off as naturally as if he’d expected this all along.  

Eden’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, he served a small focal point among the chaos of the gathering crowds. Their laughter, words, and the dimly lit light blurred around her, creating a general fuzz that pulled at the corners of her mind. She knew she was spacing out, and didn’t care. A friend would come help her snap back into reality whenever she was needed again. A daydream flitted through her mind, images of shooting stars falling like snow and landing upon the tree like silver ornaments. Stars always filled her dreams, and she liked to imagine them as her companions. Perhaps each one was a guiding light, a symbol of hope, or a faraway friend. Eden smiled to herself, imagining she alone stood before the star-covered tree and that that crowd dissipated into nothingness. She had the entire scene to herself, the world was bright, and she was safe, but also… lonely.  

A single star fell far away from the tree, landing in a river at the base of the famed Williamston Falls the town was named after. It sank into the current and glistened under the frozen waters, lost, alone, and cold. A small ache formed in the pit of her stomach and Eden shook her head. She tried to restructure the vision, willing the illusion back into the order she asked for. She tried to imagine the lost star returning to the tree, rejoining its friends from the heavens, but it remained separated, stuck, alone. 

Whether surrounded by water or a crowd, they were both so close to company but still alone.  

A hand on her shoulder snapped her out of the fantasy. Eden blinked, as a roar of cheers sprung up from the townsfolk and the tree was suddenly illuminated in golden light. But her attention wasn’t drawn to the tree so much as the hand resting on her shoulder, and the new face glowing in the golden light.    

“Sorry, but I didn’t want you to miss the big moment,” the stranger apologized, removing his hand from Eden’s shoulder. “It can be lonely being lost in your own little world.”  

 “How did you-” Eden never finished the phrase, as her friend scurried between the two of them.  

“Eden! Did you meet Atlas?” her friend asked excitedly, gesturing to the newcomer as the same bashful grin she’d seen him wear before crossed over his face. In an instant, she recognized him as being the stranger her friends had surrounded in a giddy crowd. His dark hair had begun to lose its wave-like shape, but his eyes shone with intrigue, and were surprisingly quite fixated on her own. With a blush slowly crawling across Eden’s face, she realized she found him quite handsome.  

“Y-yeah, we just met,” Eden stuttered, her eyes quickly flickering away from Atlas’s as she realized she’d been staring for a few seconds too long.  

“Oh perfect!” her friend continued, oblivious to the unspoken exchange filling the space between them with a nervous tension. “Atlas was just telling us that he’s new here and apparently he’s looking for lost treasure in Williamston Falls. Tell her about the map you found, Atlas!”  

“It’s a real mystery, but I happened to stumble upon a map that appears to be one of Williamston Falls,” Atlas explained, rolling a gray backpack over his shoulder and pulling a faded piece of parchment from beneath the front zipper pocket. Unrolling it, he revealed an unlabeled map with dark shapes and grooves penned in black ink. A soft waterfall pouring from the edge of a mountain range was etched into the right corner near a compass rose, and in the center of the map lay a town with a wide square and a tall tree at its center. 

“This is where we are,” Eden mused, pointing to the tree at the map’s center before allowing her finger to brush down the familiar trail of the town’s streets to a mysterious star drawn at the town’s edge. It was a marker of sorts, though not the typical X that one would expect to mark the spot of lost treasure. The star fell in what looked to be a narrow body of water, perhaps a small stream or river directing run-off from the falls.  

Eden’s finger paused on the spot. “I know this place,” she whispered, the breath quickly fading from her lungs with astonishment. She’d seen the site just moments ago, felt the cold of the river, and imagined the exact stream.  

She’d thought it was just another daydream.  

“You really know where it is?” Atlas grinned wide, his eyes shining with a strangely familiar silver glow. “Could you take me there?”  

“Yes. Yeah. I-I’ll lead the way.” Eden nodded, struggling to find the words she wanted to say. Too close to be coincidence, she hesitated to believe these events and her daydream could be connected. Yet, it seemed to be more than a possibility.  

“Have fun, you two!” Eden’s friend called in a teasing, sing-song tone as the two of them began to trail down the familiar roads of Williamston Falls. Eden gave a wave back, before turning her gaze to Atlas’s map. The shape of the star reminded her of the familiar lonely ache she’d felt, like it was asking to be saved, perhaps even begging for help.  

“Where did you find this map anyway?” Eden asked, her gaze flickering between the paths they followed and the eyes of the strange treasure hunter.  

“I’m not sure you’d believe me even if I told you.” Atlas laughed, tugging at the sleeve of the navy blue coat he wore, a nervous habit Eden recognized all too well. “It’s a little crazy.”  

“I like crazy.”  

Atlas took a breath and smiled. “Well, it started with a daydream.”  

Atlas opened the map again and pointed to a little farm out in the distance, somewhere in the expansive suburbs around Williamston Falls. “My grandfather lives on a small plot of land over here. It’s a ranch that’s been in my family for generations and we always meet there for the holidays, but since my grandfather had some medical difficulties, I came to visit early this year. I was helping him fix a section of fence that had lost a few posts in a storm when I started spacing out. I had the strangest daydream, and imagined a star falling on this exact corner of my grandfather’s property.” He tapped on the edge of the map, emphasizing the position. “I decided to visit the spot later out of curiosity and found a marker with this map buried underneath.”  

“That’s not possible,” she breathed, hardly able to believe his tale. It was too precise, and matched her own daydream far too closely to be a coincidence.  

“I warned you it was crazy.”  

“In more ways than one.” Eden muttered under her breath, catching a questioning look from Atlas. Before she could elaborate, the two found themselves already outside of town and facing a small stream that ran under a short wooden bridge.  

“This is the spot, isn’t it?” Atlas asked, spotting a note of recognition in Eden’s eyes as she gazed upon the stream’s current bubbling over the smooth stones. The waters had yet to freeze, but just by the look of it, Eden could already tell it would be frigid.  

“It should be here somewhere,” Eden replied, following her instinct rather than the map. She recognized the winding curves of the stream from that of her daydream, and could practically envision the silver star that fell from the heavens laying under a cool current up around the next bend.  

Atlas followed her, map in hand, searching for the little star shape that dotted the parchment’s design, using a more logical approach than intuition. Eden could hear his soft mumbling behind her speaking of how the “bridge wasn’t on the map” and his pondering about the small inaccuracies he noted. She watched as he twisted and turned the map, holding it close to his face as if he needed to inspect every line and crevice. Strangely, the vision of Atlas’s began to blur as Eden noticed her concentration start to fade. She felt her head lighten and her body begin to slowly sway. Eden recognized the pull of a daydream before she unintentionally fell into it, her mind softly slipping away into a familiar haze. 

“Wait-” she breathed, casting a glance back at Atlas before the daydream overtook her, her thoughts unconsciously moving outside of her control. This experience differed from previous daydreams in which she chose when to slip in and out of her imagination. This feeling gripped her mind and drew her in, causing the faint light of night, the sound of the stream, and the vision of Atlas’s hands suddenly reaching for her to fade to black. 

“Eden!” Atlas’s panic laced voice was the last thing she heard as her imagination cleared the scene, the riverbank she once stood by turned to an endless night sky dotted with stars as even Atlas faded from her view. She was floating on air, feet dangling in inky space where there was neither up nor down. Her only directional cue was a gentle stream of starlight with something glowing within it, just around a bend. With startling clarity, Eden realized this was the stream they were looking for all along.  

“I found it.” Eden whispered in wonder, attempting to float her way over to the stream by propelling herself through the space with a swift forward stroke as if she were swimming. Though odd, the motion worked, and Eden soon found herself face-to-face with the shimmering object in the stream. Small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, a silver star shone a brilliant light as it twinkled all alone. 

“I know you,” Eden said, gazing down upon the lost star from her previous daydream. Reaching into the stream with gentle hands, she scooped the star up into her hands and cradled it close to her. Remembering the words Atlas first said to her, she smiled. “It can be lonely being lost in your own little world.”  

With those words, the vision faded, and Eden found herself gazing up at the sky once more. However, this time the stars were far away and out of focus, and a strong set of hands were lowering her slowly onto the grass next to a gentle stream. She was back in Williamston Falls once more.  

“Oh, thank God you’re awake.” Atlas’s worried face loomed over her own, his cheeks flushed with cold, turning redder as he seemed to notice their nearness. With awkward concern, he started rambling. 

 “I think you fainted. Did you eat today? I might have some ibuprofen in my backpack. Does that do anything for fainting? I don’t know what to do actually.” Atlas paused, his brow wrinkling with concern. “I guess what I mean to say is, are you okay?”  

“I’m fine.” Eden laughed, finding she was somewhat fond of this new side of Atlas. “I found the treasure, actually.” 

“You- what?”  

Eden opened her hand to reveal a shining silver fragment that immediately illuminated the night. “I’m not sure what it is, but I suspect that it didn’t want to be left alone this Christmas.”  

“How would you know that?” Atlas inquired. 

Eden felt a bashful smile creep up her face as she took Atlas’s hand. “Because I found it the same way you found me, lost in a daydream.”  

Written by: Naomi Hernandez

Image Credit: Naomi Hernandez

Nameless Chapter 4

I needed strength. I forgot the goal that required achievement. I continued to think one day it would come back to me, but by the time I entered a neighboring village, the thought still never arrived. After the guards at the gate allowed me in, the village that greeted me felt so much more normal. The strangers that passed paid no mind to me and not a single person spoke a word. I felt more comfortable in this village that met my expectations: Dodasa.

I rested briefly on a bench as I ate the bread given to me. Then I carried on towards the military office, I observed how this different place opposed the place I woke up in. Clouds covered the sky. Tall fences guarded each establishment from the people beyond. No one outside did anything besides walk to their next destination. When I entered the military office, explaining that I would like to train and fight with them, they asked for my name. I knew I had to give an answer, so I gave them the only syllables that came to mind, “Hera.”

“And family name?” the intimidating woman asked.

I replied honestly this time, “I don’t have one.”

“Orphan?”
            I gave her a quick nod.

“Well, we will take anyone as long as you won’t hinder us,” she explained.

The woman told me to come back tomorrow for a fitness test. Realizing I had nowhere to rest, I halted penniless and alone asking if any strangers would open their doors to me, but I continued to be ignored. Eventually, I traveled outside the gates and camped out in the woods near the walls. In the morning, I ate the bread I had left. Then, I arrived at the office again determined to prove myself.

I followed the instructions given to me and performed as best I could to prove I would become a good warrior. After I completed every task, the examiner gave his verdict, “You’ll do.” Those were his only words. I left that day with a uniform, instructions, and a key for a room at the military training sight. I finally had a place to stay, but I could not call it my own.

Across from my bed stood another bed with a mid-aged woman laying on top. She introduced herself as Daphne and rarely spoke to me after. I woke up every morning and participated in training for Dodasa’s army. I listened to their instructions, put my upmost effort into gaining strength, and followed them into their battles. However, they looked down on me as an outsider with no family name. They hated it when I spoke or suggested alternative methods, so I spoke to no one. I looked up to no one. I grew stronger for no one.

Often, I sat alone at my desk trying to remember my goal, the reason I desired strength so much. Despite my persistence, my reason never revealed itself. Regardless of this, my will never dulled. I worked twice as hard as my peers and surpassed them. I pushed passed the physical tolls, so that I would no longer be looked at as weak. I always returned from the battles because I still needed to do something unforeseen to me. No longer would I be tossed aside, considered unworthy to fight.

I trained so hard every day, my whole body ached in pain, but it was worth it for the goal that was still hidden from me. I became known as one of the strongest warriors in Dodasa’s army, but that did not mean I would always be needed. When Daphne retired after years of service, I got a room to myself. Soon, my body started to imitate hers. I stopped improving, but instead started to decay. I got slower, weaker, and my bones crackled. I kept rejecting retirement, but one day they told me to pack my bags, saying “Go home, Hera.”

“Where?” I thought. As I packed my belongings, I found stuffed deep in my bag a mechanical toy. It surprised me and soon occupied my focus. I tore it apart and reassembled it with ease. I glanced at it every day wondering its origin. I began tinkering again as an old hobby that used to be a habit. I made more toys out of spare rubble, fixed the door hinges in the room I rented, and even made miniatures of weapons out of the images that that popped into my head. I filled my small apartment with a variety of inventions and at my desk existed a display of a walled off village across a bridge. However, every invention I made sat unused.

My mind haunted that room. I desired to get stronger, but I could no longer physically fulfill that request. The best I could do was create and innovate to improve what I could. However, Dodasa’s people saw me as a shut-in and refused to know any outsider. Even when I possessed the confidence to offer assistance with my inventions, they shouted at me to leave them alone. I grew more and more isolated, until a knock at my door intruded my ears.

I thought I heard wrong. Maybe something fell or the sound came from a ghost. I ignored it, but eventually another knock came louder than before. Then, the sound repeated until the door opened. The intruder was a tall, young woman with long black hair and a hood that covered her eyes. Her clothes were completely out of the ordinary, but she composed herself with confidence. She told me the story of a little girl who saved a hopeless village but ended it before the happy ending. I told her that the story needs a conclusion where the girl comes home to the village, and they celebrate the miracle. The young storyteller replied, “Then come with me,” she continued, “You have been gone from your home too long.”

I went with her out of curiosity and on the way, she slowly revealed more things about the girl. “She was an inventor. She lived with the blacksmith and his family. She wasn’t raised in the village but called it home. Just as she rescued the village from its oppressors so did the village for her. She considered everyone there her family!” Then she said, “Her name was Hera!”

We walked into a wilted, gloomy land. The stranger and I entered through an open space between large, cracked stone walls. There were many buildings but no people. With tears in my eyes I exclaimed, “I failed. I’m sorry. I failed to protect my home!” The hooded lady escaped my mind and the only thought left was an apology to a forgotten me.

We approached a small, fenced area with many engraved stone tablets on the ground. This place appeared to be the only maintained area within the walls. “Colin,” “Dimitris,” “Ajax,” “Eleni,” and “Evander,” all appeared on a plaque. I remembered Evander, my friend that took me in and who became like my father. In front of his grave, stood a family. A man looked at the two graves holding his children’s hands, telling them about their grandparents. Eventually, he turned around and faced me. His children stepping behind him. He told them in a soft voice, “Don’t be afraid. She is your aunt who saved my village.” He looked at me with a smile and tears in his eyes, “Hera?”

I still barely remembered any memories, but I knew that he was family. His children called out to me, “Auntie, where have you been?!” I stayed silent. Then, their father answered, “She’s been here, watching over the village even after everyone has gone!” He approached me and said, “You’re family, I grew up hearing my parents talk about the sister I had, and they knew you would return to see them.”

One of his children clutched my hand, “Come home with us!” she ordered. I answered, “I will. I promise I will never leave my family again.” We walked together past all the older buildings and through the entrance. Just before we left, I turned to the lady and comforted her, “You didn’t fail; here is your happy ending.”  Finally, I went home to meet my family once more with Helios.

Written by: Rachel Caña

Image Credit

All The World’s a Stage: Part 4

“All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.”

William Shakespeare, As You Like It.

Kessy

Of course Kessy knew the story. The High Court—or the Celestial Realm—was a glittering metropolis in the sky, fueled by the tale of its ruthless ruler: how King Olaris believed his wife, Thessaly, and younger brother Austore were plotting against him. How he banished Austore to the ground, or the Lower Court, forbidding him to return. How he threw Thessaly in prison, no matter how many times she told him they would never conspire to take his throne. How he had her killed and never remarried, ruling both the High and Lower Courts with an iron fist.

            Rightfully, Austore should have ruled the Lower Court, as was tradition. Instead Olaris, proclaiming his brother and wife’s supposed treason, usurped Austore’s power and now ruled both realms, locking travel between them with the Medial Court, that swirling mass of stars and nothingness that keeps the sunlight from reaching the Lower Court.

            Now, she listened in horrified silence as Olaris explained her own part in this story. Thessaly, innocent of treason, of course, had given birth in prison. Law and tradition forbade him from executing a pregnant woman, and as soon as Thessaly birthed their daughter, he swept in, ordering her execution. The young princess he also wished to kill, but tradition also forbade the murder of a child. Instead, Olaris bided his time, waiting until the little girl turned eighteen. Kassiopeia was raised in the palace, not quite a noble, not quite a commoner, completely unaware of her lineage.

            “And then she turned eighteen,” Kandor murmured, his voice hushed and horrified. “And you killed her.”

            Olaris huffed. “I tried to. She should not have survived the transformation. So I sent her away, through the Medial Realm. I thought surely that would kill her, and if not, she would have no way to return to the High Court.”

            “Except she did return,” Juna said, a little reverently. “We all passed through.”

            “Foolish boy,” Olaris spat. “You passed through because I let you pass through.”

            “You knew we were coming?” Kessy asked, her voice very, very small. I did this.

            “Of course. I know everything that happens and passes through the Medial Realm. I knew you were coming. I also knew that the most efficient way to end this was to finish it myself.”

            Out of the corner of her eye, Kessy saw Kandor squeeze Amily tighter, her little body trembling. “And how is that?” Kandor asked, his voice hard.

            Olaris smiled. “With the theater, of course.”

KANDOR

Amily’s hand in his felt clammy. He lifted it up absently to his lips and kissed it, wishing he could protect her from what was about to happen.

            The sounds of the amphitheater grew louder, an audience hungry for a show.

            A tragedy to rival Shakespeare’s, Olaris had said.

            The performance was indeed a tragedy. The end of the play saw its heroes vanquished, the heroine sacrificing herself for her friends only to watch them die regardless.

            Olaris had created a part for each of them.

            And the show was about to begin.

            Kandor looked down at his little sister, who had run out of tears hours ago. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, and Kandor wasn’t sure if he should tell her or not. His only consolation was that Amily’s character died relatively early on. She would not suffer like the other three would.

            His eyes panned to Juna, who Kandor knew was thinking of his wife. Kandor scooped up Amily and made his way to his best friend, resting his hand on Juna’s shoulder for a long moment.

            They said nothing. What was there to say?

            Amily reached for Juna and Kandor handed her over, looking over at Kessy. Her eyes seemed dull, sunken. Already lifeless, though she still breathed. Kandor went to her and took her hand.

            “You have a cut right here,” he murmured, touching her face.

            Kessy didn’t move. “It doesn’t matter now.”

            “Yes, it does.” Kandor inspected it. “Does it hurt?”

            Kessy shook her head. After a moment, he felt her small, trembling hand slide into his own. “I’m so sorry, Kandor,” she whispered.

            “Oh no…Kessy…why are you sorry?”

            A tear caught on her eyelashes, sparkling in the dim light of the coliseum just beyond them. “This is my fault.”

            “No.” Kandor put his hands on her shoulders. “This isn’t your fault. How could you have known?”

            “I—”

            “Right.” He flashed her a half smile. “You couldn’t have.”

            She looked down. “I’m sorry about Amily.”

            Kandor looked to his sister, still clinging to Juna. “She had so much life to live,” he murmured.

            Kessy swallowed an ill-contained sob, and before he quite realized it, Kandor took her in his arms and held her tightly. She sobbed into his chest, and Kandor stroked her blonde hair, overwhelmed with the amount of love he realized he had for her and the very little time he had left to tell her. He pulled back, taking her tearstained face in his hands.

            “Kessy—I wanted to—I need to tell you—”

            Kessy’s fingers gripped his wrists. “I know, I know,” she sobbed.

            Kandor kissed her suddenly, gently, tenderly. He had never kissed a girl before and he didn’t know if he did it right, but he also found that right now, it didn’t matter.

Kessy

Kessy remembered only bits and pieces of the performance: the firearm intended for Amily somehow wrested away by her brother, the blood pouring out of a wound from Juna’s shoulder, the flashing screen of lines, and the text that read: “I speak as my understanding instructs me and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.”

            Somehow, she felt life breathe into her. Her mother’s last gift. She heard a voice whisper, Speak, Kassiopeia.

            Kessy opened her mouth and spoke.

Kandor

“I am the rightful heir to a kingdom marked by violence and greed, and if that is to be my inheritance, then I want no part in it.”

            Kessy’s voice didn’t tremble. Kandor held Amily close and listened to her forego the lines Olaris wrote for them. Instead, she lobbied charge after charge against her father as she climbed to the top of the set laid out for them, at eye level with the king. “But if you take these innocent lives,” she said, the acoustics of the amphitheater carrying her voice to the ears of every listener, “how are you any better than the usurper you claimed my mother to be?” She held his gaze even as her father rose to meet her, standing nose to nose.

            “You will not give me orders in my own kingdom,” he said in a low voice, flanked on either side by his most powerful magicians.

            “No?” Kessy’s eyes held a strange glint. “I think you mean my kingdom.”

            Olaris laughed in her face. “Your kingdom? You stupid, foolish girl. You have more audacity than I thought.”

            The wind whipped around them both. “I spent a great many hours studying the royal texts,” Kessy said evenly, her voice unsettlingly calm. “In them, I learned every law that the Celestial Realm must adhere to. Everyone in the kingdom must follow these laws—including yourself, Your Majesty. The High Court leaves no room for criminals, especially not a criminal whose entire purpose is to lead our kingdom with wisdom, honor, and dignity.”

            A crack rang out; Olaris had slapped his daughter across the face. “How dare you insinuate such things about your king?”

            “Oh, but I’m not insinuating,” Kessy gasped, a hand to her cheek. “You said it yourself not three hours ago: the official age for public execution is eighteen years.” She pointed towards Kandor and Amily. “In sentencing this child to death, you have broken one of the Celestial Realm’s most sacred laws, and as such, are immediately disposed of your throne and all the rights that come with it.” She smiled faintly. “So, yes, I do mean ‘my kingdom,’ and you are no longer my king. Your reign is over, Father.”

            All was silent for a few moments. Kandor held his breath. Kessy lifted her chin a little bit higher. Olaris kept his gaze leveled on her as long as he dared, but he finally stepped back, acknowledging his defeat and his deposition. His part ended. Kessy’s was just beginning.

            Kessy’s shoulders slumped the tiniest bit, and Kandor could see the relief on her face. She turned to go, a princess descending her throne, when Amily suddenly screamed.

            “Kessy—look out!”

            Kessy whipped around just in time to see one of Olaris’ magicians fling a blinding spell at her. Kandor shoved Amily at Juna and ran to catch her body as it fell from the set and plummeted towards the ground.

Epilogue

There have been many stories about that day, passed down from mother to child and on and on and on. Some say Kandor made it to Kessy and caught her in his arms moments before impact. Others say she caught herself somehow. Still others swear they felt a breeze blow through the arena, buoying Kessy’s fall and setting her lightly on the ground.

            No one knows for sure.

            The only thing they do know is that following the deposition of King Olaris the Usurper, the Courts were once again split evenly. The Celestial Realm enjoyed many fruitful and prosperous years under the rule of a fair and kind queen. Minstrels spun sonnets about her flax-colored hair and sparkling blue eyes, cloudy as they were.

Kassiopeia didn’t need to see to be a good queen. She knew that simply being alive, surviving a curse that should have killed her, at the helm of the kingdom she was created to lead, was enough. Even more so, being alive with her family felt above and beyond enough.

Listening to Amily’s musical laugh or feeling Kandor’s gentle fingers run through her hair was more than she could have ever hoped for, and she thanked the stars every single day for the role she was blessed to play in this cosmic tale.

Written By: Caroline Johnson

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Faint Memories and Present Illusions: Part 2

A harsh glint of metal meets my eyes as I turn a dagger over in my hand, inspecting the blade for nicks, scratches, and grime. I sheath the blade and secure the weapon inside my boot. Peering up at my darling, fiancėe, Vera, as she touches up her hair in front of the vanity. I hide six more daggers around my body. The metal’s weight brings a familiar calm to my mind as I remember crafting each blade for this night and any subsequent events of a similar nature. I straighten and step towards my darling before saying, “You look immaculate tonight, love.”

Vera stands and candlelight dances across her golden hair. She moves forward and her blue gown glides over the wooden floor. Her hands raise and sign, “You truly think so?”

I swiftly move and stand in front of her, my footsteps light from over a year of training and experience. Grasping her chilly hand in my own, I say, “But of course, my beautiful Vera. The blue dress you wear flatters your golden hair, even though you look stunning in every attire.” I pause to brush my other hand against her cheek before continuing. “Each strand on your head looks elegant but natural. Your smile lights up the depths of my soul. If anyone thinks otherwise, that individual has less taste than the swine of the farm.”

Vera blushes and signs, “You are too kind.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I thank the heavens above for her humble, innocent nature. She blesses my life with her sparkling smile, beauty, and generosity. My time at war changed my life, but the constant stream of letters overflowing with kind and lovely words helped me as I went on assignments. I returned with damaged hearing but watched my fiancėe’s face glow with excitement making every action worth the mental and physical pain. Her smile brings me joy. Her love brings me peace. Her naivetė brings me bliss. What else could I ask for in a fiancėe?

Tapping my arm, Vera signs, “Should we not leave soon if we are to make it to your friend’s manor before sundown?”

I sigh and step away from my darling, readjusting the collar of my jacket before saying, “I do believe you are right, my love.”

We move to the door and I grab my wooden cane as we leave. I close the door and lock it with a silver key. Grasping Vera’s hand, I guide her to our humble carriage. I detest the thing, but transportation is transportation. Sir Capulon ‘gifted’ it to me as a spoil of war. I help Vera catch her footing and climb into the seat before moving to check the horses. After inspecting the leather straps that secure the creatures in place, I circle the carriage making certain the wheels are properly oiled and bear no cracks. While a short journey, a timely arrival is necessary when dealing with the Capulons and the rest of their company.

I walk back to the box seat and see the ratty floor and blood-caked cushions inside the carriage. Thankfully Vera loved the outdoors and preferred to sit in the box seat with me. It would be most difficult to explain how that happened or why I possess such an item. Hoisting myself onto the seat, I accept the reigns from dearest Vera and flick the leather straps to start our journey into the copper autumn world.

---

We ride in pleasant silence over dirt paths surrounded by endless fields of grass waving in the breeze and vultures swarming in the distance. I enjoy the winding roads and cool autumn breeze, as I brace myself for the night ahead, a final callback to the war. A celebration. A memorial. A mission. The grey sky foretells the plans of the night while the sun emits a strange red glow and sinks below a broken horizon of dense forests and crumbled stone. This night either ends my political connection or deepens their need for my services.

 I jolt out of my thoughts when Vera leans on my shoulder and asks for the time. I reply, “Just a few more moments. It is just around this turn.”

The dirt roads change to cobbled paths closer to the mansion. We cross a small bridge over a creek before passing through rows of hedges and beds of snapdragons, begonias, and lavender. To our left, a broken well sits, waiting to be filled. Our carriage pulls into the main driveway, and I stop in front of the large oak doors. Stone walls welcome us to the main entrance and flickering candles illuminate the windows.

Vera holds out her silk blindfold, which serves no physical purpose but grants her mind ease, and I gently tie it around her head, making sure to avoid ruining her golden hair. I climb down and help Vera off. Her light blue gown and bright smile seem directly oppositional to my dark suit and the glinting knives tucked inside my outfit. How could one so happy and innocent love someone as misleading and destructive as me? I thank the heavens above that Vera will not understand what takes place tonight, should everything go according to plan.

 I turn to my fiancėe and say, “Thank you for coming with me tonight, my love. Your willingness to meet my colleagues means a great amount to me. I hope you find that Mr. Douglas’ hosting skills and my other acquaintances present an excellent representation of my work.”

She smiles, “Robin, dear, you are my eyes and I, your ears. Why would I waste such an opportunity to see your friend’s home?” After that, Vera links our arms together. “Introduce me to them.”

            “But of course.”

I guide her up the stairs and into the marbled foyer. The crystal chandelier glitters in the warm candles and dozens of plants with creeping vines line the walls and sit on tables. Turning to the left, we enter the main hosting room. People dressed in a variety of colors scatter the wide hall in little groups and a live string quartet plays in the corner. There are many tables along the walls with snacks, beverages, and other such pleasantries. Spotting the red uniform attire of my colleagues, Caleb and Elanor, I move over to them with Vera still attached to my arm.

            “Monsieur Caleb, I would like you to meet my darling fiancėe, Vera. Dear, this is Caleb Monte and his wife Elanor.”

            Vera smiles and extends her hand, saying, “It is a pleasure to meet you both. Robin wholly refuses to reveal details about his work. Naturally, I am curious. How did you all come to meet?”

            As Caleb and Elanor tell my fiancėe how we met in the blacksmith when they placed an order of weapons for the war, I scan the room and see each unsuspecting noble laugh and mingle with the very people plotting against them. Michael and I make eye contact and he nods to a corner where Monsieur Taylor drinks from his glass. I return the nod and finish my scan of the room, noting the entrances, windows, and movable objects. Taking a deep breath to anchor my mind, I press my hand against the dagger attached to my waist. The dawn of a new era will begin soon, and the world is not prepared for what this group plans to change.

            I notice Vera gesture towards me and turn my attention back to my darling, reading her lips, “What genre of books do you sell in your Braile collection? I consider myself a literature fanatic, when I have the proper books, of course.”

            I move my arm to grab her hand and say, “Yes, my little Vera has quite the knack for reading. Darling, Monsieur Caleb’s store is the place where I get your specially printed books. Though I do sometimes wonder what it is in those books that captures your attention so well.” Leaning to kiss her cheek, I continue, “Now, Miss Elanor, would you introduce my fiancėe to Lady Rowena? I do believe the three of you ladies will get along splendidly.”

            The group voices their agreement, and my fiancėe remains silent before tapping my arm to get my attention. Vera signs, “Are you sure? I would love to meet new acquaintances, yet to leave you is unfamiliar. Should we not be together before the dinner begins?”

            “It is alright, my love. Elanor is a sweet young lady who I suspect understands our situation. Is that correct, Miss?”

            Elanor nods. “Indeed it is. Vera, I agree with your fiancé. Lady Rowena will adore you. I can guide you to her.”

            Vera nods, resolving to meet new people. “Very well. Robin, dearest, will we sit together at dinner?” she asks.

            “I would dream of nothing else,” I say, unlocking my arm from hers. “Enjoy the night, my love.”

            Walking away with Caleb, we start to mingle with the variety of guests. Many nobles with secrets darker than a black dahlia sip on crystal glasses of punch. They smile their ignorant little smiles, unaware of our host’s intentions. Every one of the guests is here for a purpose, some because of power or money, others because they hinder future plans. The Capulons designed this event to finish what we started during the war. Something illegal, perhaps. Definitely immoral. But above all, intentional. This night will go down in silent history, unknown to the citizens, but whispered in halls of stone. Life and death will unravel like loose threads from an old sweater, uncontrollable unless cut off from the whole.

            We move to a familiar group of red-clad men by the windows overlooking Marilyn’s garden. Joining their circle and leaning against the wall, I greet them, saying, “Good evening, gentlemen. Delightful event, now, is it?”

            The man on my right, Taylor Wilkins, nods and says, “Indeed. Your wife did a lovely job planning this, Michael.”

            “Thank you, Monsieur Taylor. We all knew Marilyn had a knack for planning. But I did provide a few ideas of my own for dinner.” Michael responds while polishing his glasses on his maroon blazer.

            We continue talking and Michael grabs my arm before laughing. During this moment, he slips a paper into my hand, and I pass him two of the many daggers on my person. He moves back and wipes a tear from his cheek before saying, “Robin, my friend, how is life treating you? Do you need anything?”

            “No, I believe you have given me enough.” I have no desire to be further connected to this family, yet I suspect Vera will get attached enough for the both of us. One year ago, Michael gave me the carriage for helping him during the war. Quite an ironic present because it came from a noble he ordered me to assassinate.

            “Very well, Caleb; Taylor, make sure you get what you need before dinner begins. Marilyn is quite picky about timeliness.” With that final word, Michael leaves the three of us alone.

            I look around the room, making certain there are no wandering eyes, if any of these guests possess an inkling of suspicion about this event, our plans could fall apart. Seeing all the nobles engaged and distracted with conversations, Taylor moves closer and I pass him a dagger, which he hides under his coat. I sip from my glass and hand another two blades to Caleb. We talk for a few more minutes before separating to converse with the other invitees. I walk past vases filled with black dahlias, pink snapdragons, red begonias, and fragrant lavender. I see Vera talking to Rowena, Marilyn, and Elanor by the snack table.

            Later, we move into the dining room. A long, black oak table sits in the middle of the room with twenty pleated chairs with armrests lining the sides. Floral arrangements, just like those in the hall, decorate the center. A large stained glass window is behind the head of the table, and each wall has three sets of closed doors. I stand by Caleb while we wait for the rest of the guests. Vera enters with the other ladies and they guide her to our seats.            

I walk over to my fiancėe and say, “Here is your chair, my love,” I say, pulling out the pleated chair for her.

            “Thank you, Robin,” Vera says as she sits in the designated chair. I push her seat closer to the table, step to my right, and sit in my chair. I look around the table and see Marilyn and Michael at the front, side-by-side, Taylor to Michael’s right, then Vera, myself, and to Marilyn’s left Caleb, Elanor, and Rowena. The other sixteen guests follow on either side, each seated in the chair designed for them and marked by the card in front of the table setting.

            I catch part of Taylor’s words to my fiancėe  “…close friends. He told me a great deal about your musical talents and language skills. Taylor Wilkins, at your service, miss.”

            “It is lovely to meet you, Monsieur Taylor. Meeting his acquaintances is always interesting. How did the two of you meet?” Vera asks both of us. I press my arm against hers and clasp our hands together.

            “Vera, my love, I met Taylor during a strategy meeting. He and Michael leaned over a table covered in maps while drinking hot tea. When I entered, Taylor passed me a third cup without looking up. I joined them and the other advisors and listened to the group talk through the statistics of either side’s troops. I worked to train the soldiers into swordsmen.”

            “Quite skilled in that field, Robin is. I do believe his swordsmanship skills only improved over the year or two when he trained the soldiers. Many would find it difficult to disarm your fiancé unless they could distract him.”

            Vera looks at me, pursing her lips, a sign of confusion, and asks why I never told her I fought with blades, not just making them. I sigh and say, “Love, I did not want to dwell on the past. Dueling for sport and killing to survive are extremely different actions. I prefer to enjoy my time with you or work in the forge, not thinking about what I did during the most challenging time of my life.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly and continue, “Anyway, you never showed interest in my duels before. I want to plan for the future, not think about the past.”

            The conversations around the table fall silent, and Michael welcomes the guests. “I hope you enjoyed your night has gone smoothly thus far. My wife and I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedules. Tonight, we dine on fresh baguettes with olive oil, a salad lightly tossed in a raspberry vinaigrette, followed by marvelous potato soup, which is Marilyn’s favorite, and a butterscotch soufflé for dessert.”

            Marilyn chimes in, “As always, we have tea, coffee, and fruit platters after the meal while we continue to fellowship and enjoy one another’s presence. But enough about our plans, let us eat!” With her final words, the doors lining the walls open, and multiple figures step out with plates of food balanced in their hands.

---

            After dinner, Vera leans over to ask me, “I wondered, my dear, if I could go see this garden I heard so much about from my new acquaintances. Simply sit in the moonlight and enjoy nature while you mingle with your friends.” 

            “I see no reason not to, my love, as long as Marilyn does not mind you venturing through her creation.” I smile and thank our luck that she decided to ask first. Otherwise, Marilyn planned to offer to show her the flowers.

Turning her face toward the head of the table, Vera repeats the question to Marilyn. She responds, “That sounds like a lovely idea, Vera. My hydrangeas and hyacinths are in full bloom, which is unusual for this time of year. The fruit trees bear harvests of sweet cherries, apples, and peaches. I will show you to my favorite bench and let you soak in the atmosphere.”

            Both stand and walk towards the manor’s exterior, and Marilyn looks back, nodding to the rest of the group, a nod that starts the unraveling. Caleb, Elanor, Taylor, Michael, Rowena, and I each draw our daggers, concealing them under the tablecloth. The other guests continue eating, unaware of the danger.

            Michael stands and says, “Now, I have a present for some of you.” He pulls out a little red button. “I want to thank you for coming here tonight, your trust is quite shocking, and unfortunately, we will not need you any longer. One might say, that we are restarting the little country we call home.” He pauses, “Too many stitches have fallen out and must be cut off. You must understand, business is business.”

He presses the button and metal snaps up from the armrests around each guest’s wrists. Caleb, Taylor, Elanor, and Rowena reveal their knives and show them off to the wide-eyed men and women who cry out from shock and fear. I see tears stream down some of the women’s faces as I stand. Part of me sees Vera in those tears, while the other half feels numb and knows how this will end. However, every project will end, and some get scrapped and reformed. The Capulons will reknit this sweater into a nation of their own. Drawing my blade, I move behind the first man. Time to cut loose strings.

---

Walking into the tall rows of hedges, I button up the coat that I borrowed from Michael. My own offers a dead giveaway if Vera felt the damp cloth. Rounding the corner, I see my fiancėe sitting on the stone bench. The moonlight reflects off her hair as I walk to her, grab her hands, and pull her to her feet. She stumbles before regaining her balance and signing, “Gracious, Robin! You startled me.”

            I chuckle. “Well, what did you expect? I cannot let a lady as beautiful as you sit alone. And you always liked dancing, so I thought we could live in the moment.” I slowly move and Vera follows, the two of us swaying and gliding across the soft grass. I spin Vera into my arms, and we stand together under the moonlight.

Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “Love, how did you like our little trip?”

She smiles up at me and replies, “I found it splendid and enjoyable. Your friends sound so sweet and friendly. Later, I would love to connect with them more because they seem like good people.”

            I smile at her ignorant trust and hug her. “That sounds like an excellent plan, darling. I will set up a gathering between you and the other ladies.” I spin Vera out on my left hand before stepping closer. I kiss her hand and continue, “We should leave soon so we get back home before midnight, my love.”

            “Sounds good.”

            We link arms and walk back through the garden. Vera stoops and puts her shoes on before following me around the manor. As we walk past the beds of flowers, I pluck a little pink snapdragon and tuck it behind Vera’s ear. My darling would never understand the life we live. I never want her involved in the crimes we commit. Her ignorance brings me bliss. However, I do not miss the irony of her desire for a garden. She never learned the communication of flowers, something our hosts know themselves and taught me.

Each flower holds a meaning, some positive, but others warning the viewer of a danger. Marilyn loved languages and wanted her garden to represent herself: beautiful, cunning, wealthy, but above all, deceptive as a snapdragon. The Capulons planned this night for a year and started a process of reforming a country and molding it into a new nation, one with them as its leaders. A string unraveled and reknit. A blade formed of reclaimed metal. A country overthrown and reordered after new ideas. Each project requires work and maintenance, each taking what failed and restoring it to a purpose, a purpose set by the maker. Marilyn and Michael mastered their craft and did not hesitate to use it.

I help Vera into the carriage and climb up after. She leans against me and relaxes in her seat. She signs to me, “I like Marilyn’s garden; do you think I can make my garden similar?”

            “Of course, love, not the same, but similar. She has a little broken well that I doubt we can replicate, but any flowers you desire, I will find for you.”

She gasps. “Thank you, Robin! I cannot wait to add more to my garden.”

“Would you like to start with snapdragons?” I say.

Vera and I walk out of the main garden and past the broken well, unto which my closest colleagues toss dark forms to its depths, never to rise again. It is truly a shame that they did not see such an event coming when we invited them to the Capulon mansion. But alas, every garden contains secrets, and sometimes our perspectives blind us to the truth.

Written By: Marian Markley

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How to Start Saving People: Parts 9 & 10 (Finale)

Inspired by the HBO Adaptation of The Last of Us

9 – A Mistake

            “To the building, just over there, keep running, hold her tightly, cover her ears, keep breathing.”

I must repeat it in order not to break down or look back or both. Ellie’s screams rattle my eardrums more than the echoing gunfire. I keep my vision on Tommy. He’s just ahead, carrying Stevie on his back, running toward the office building in front of us.

“Maya, watch my back!” Tommy says, setting Stevie down to break the barricades on the door. It’s been covered with wood panels and while only some remain intact, it’s not open enough for us to pass through. Tommy begins pulling at the boards but then starts to kick at them, breaking the doorway open. I keep my back to him, rocking Ellie. I hold her ears and head, scanning the surroundings.

            “Shhh, Ellie. It’s okay, baby girl. We’re almost in, then we can see the sky.” Tears start running down my face. This is cruel.

            The distant gunfire stops.

            “Tommy!”

            “I got it; come on!”

            “I can walk. Tommy, get her,” I hear Stevie say.

            His hands wrap around my shoulders, and he pulls me into his arms, walking me into the doorway, around corners, and to a stairwell.

            “Maya, look at me. Can you make the stairs? I need to help Stevie.”

            I look up at him. His eyes are alive; the glow almost hides the sadness behind them. But I still see it peeking through – a fear that quivers ever so softly behind the fire of adrenaline and reflex. I stand frozen. Where is my fire? Why won’t it cover the feeling that I’m always falling? I’m always curled up as small as I can get myself, scared of every flash of light or small sound. Where’s my adrenaline that makes me cold as stone, like Mar or Grif? All I do is panic and drop, falling endlessly until someone catches me. But, how many times will they catch me?

            “I got it. I’m sorry, Tommy.”

__________

            We see the skyline from the highest floor we could reach before the stairs were too ruined to climb.

            “Where were we?’

            “Over there?” Stevie points, leaning on the balcony ledge.

            “Yeah, that’s it. I don’t see nothing, though.” Tommy scans the scene.

            The building is not very tall and does not differ greatly in height from the other office buildings around, so seeing the area below is difficult.

            “I can’t believe I was that close.” My body recalls the chill I felt with the Infected practically at my back.

            “They must have come up through the rubble you were on. They didn’t come from anywhere else ’cause we would’ve seen ’em.”

            “That’s…concerning.”

            “They come up from underground?” Stevie raises an eyebrow at Tommy.

            “Like flowers.” I send a wicked smile at her.

            “I don’t know.” He sighs. “I’m guessing we wait for Mar…”

            “Shh! Guys, duck!” Stevie waves Tommy to silence, and we all drop to the ground.

            She looks over to us. “I saw a group of people. Not ours.”

            “I’ll check,” Tommy whispers and starts crawling his way over to the corner of the balcony. He raises his head just above the top.

            All I hear is my breath and my heart. I close my eyes, focusing my hearing down below, outside my body. My heartbeat starts to dull and so does my breathing until just a slight ringing remains. I hear the faint sounds of birds, the wind, and a car on gravel. We wait for so long. So long that my knees burn like crazy. I look over to Tommy, his gun is in his hands.

            It’s deadly silent. A forceful thud resurges in my chest and a soft warmth grows under my fingertips as I hold Ellie’s head close to me. Stevie and I keep our eyes locked on Tommy. Stevie sways subtly as she tries to keep her ragged breathing in check. I notice her wound is bleeding through it’s wrapping.

Wack!

            Stevie inhales sharply. A car door slams very close, right below us at the front of the building. Her face is pale with pain and anxiety. Tommy quickly snags a glance over the ledge. He descends to look back at me, his face pale, not from pain, but fear. We hear a muffled sound:

            “Get on…they must…”

            “In here.”

            “Careful, Will, I don’t…”

            There are people out there, and they are not our people. I guess they now stand too close to the building for Tommy to defend us from the balcony, as he signals us to stay while he stealthily moves back inside and out of sight. Yes, leave us won’t you, I think; my heart’s thuds feel like baseball bats hitting the inside of my chest.

            I expected the sounds, but they still sent shocks through my body. Quickly, a gunshot bursts through the building below; yelling, wood breaking, a loud metal sound, and rushing footsteps. Stevie and I move at the same time, a unified plan we don’t need to verbalize. I hand her Ellie as she slides out of the way of glass, where the building wall meets the balcony. I crouch forward, making my way into the room, still hearing shuffling down below. I hear a raspy sound, like a voice, behind me, but my mind is focused on the door ahead. My eyes move frantically around the disheveled space. A weapon? A weapon? I need a weapon. Behind a desk, I find a splintery wood panel. I frantically bolt toward the door to hide up against the wall.

More shuffling, a gunshot.

Tommy?

More steps.

Tommy, please.

They’re on our floor, now.

Tommy, c’mon.

A man enters the room. It’s not Tommy.

His movement slows slightly as a surge of panic leaps through my veins—I see a gun in his grasp. My hand is held high, and I barely feel the force I use to strike the back of his head with the panel. However, I assume it is enough for the splinters to pierce deep, because I feel friction in pulling the panel back. He cries out in pain, leaping to the side and bringing his gun up to my face. But his hand is limp, and his other hand holds the back of his head. I see blood flowing down his neck and shoulders.

            “You rotten—”

            “Shut up!” I blurt out. “Don’t kill me and I won’t kill you. Just leave.”

            “No, honey. See, I can’t do that.” His voice is rough.

            “Where’s Tommy?”

            “The fellow downstairs, huh?”

            “Leave, please!” I hold back the tears with words. I can’t show weakness.

            He staggers, clearly still in shock from my hit, “I’ll make it quick for ya, yea—”

            Bang!

            The man jolts, then turns toward the direction of the shot. I turn to see Stevie hunched up against the side of the glass door, a gun in her hand.

            “Stevie!”

            Bang!

            “Stevie!!”

10 – A Feeling

            That was it. I remember that day. The years have blurred since the breakout. And even before, those times are so dowsed in remorse and wanting that their color fades, too. But that day…it’s crystal. After that man shot Stevie, all the wheels came off the wagon. The tension between life and death seemed so real you could wave your hand out in front of you and feel its bite. We saved Ellie. That man didn’t last too long. A gang was traveling through the town as Marlene, Grif, and Mel fought off Infected. The fighting didn’t end when the last Infected dropped, however. Those greedy fools were ready to take and leave without a thought of humanity. We made it out of the building, though, and searched for our people, hoping they were still alive. Eventually, we found a trail marker from Grif near the south end.

            “They’re not far ahead, Maya.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Do you need me to take Ellie for a bit? Rest your arms?”

            “No, I’m good.”

            “Okay.”

            There was no healing from it, we both knew. You can’t just act normally after your friend dies right in front of you. Taken away without warning. Snatched up from a hellish world, true. But snatched up alone, leaving you behind in the flames to mourn.

            We walked for a ways, the abandoned suburban town center fading into an abandoned suburban outskirts. More houses, loosely spread apart. The others were nowhere in sight, and the mutual worry between us began to overshadow the silence of grief.

            “They must’ve died, Tommy.”

            “Nah, you saw that trail marker. That was Grif’s mark for sure.”

            “Yeah…”

            We stopped, facing each other. Our eyes were both watery, so full of doubt and grief and pain. The fire was broken, stomped on.

            “My eyes hurt.”

            “C’mere.”

            I didn’t realize it then, but that was the first hug I had in a long time. An emptiness filled my bones, like the strength I had been desperately gripping onto finally dispersed. Our bodies fell into each other’s embrace, with Ellie’s small form snugly wrapped up between us. I felt the soft thud of sobbing, and when we finally parted, both our faces were wet and flushed; we felt the tears from so many hours of hurt in that hug. I’ve never experienced a hug like it since.

            “Look there! Another marker!”

            “Good, my feet are melting off and Ellie is fussy.”

            The marker was on a road sign, telling us to keep going. Soon, the road curved a bit, and the trees began to thicken. A new town was in sight, though much smaller than the last. The sky bloomed soft oranges and pinks, summoning deeper shadows and dimmer landscapes.

            “Tommy, if I don’t see Grif lumbering around a corner soon I’m gonna call it. We can’t stay out past dark for too long. Ellie needs rest.”

            “I know. I wish…”

            “Hm?”

            “Okay, I just wish we knew where they’re hiding out. Safety in numbers, you know.”

            “What about that house over there.”

            We walked off the road toward what looked like an old house renovated to be a business.

            “Crampton Law?’”

            “Cozy.”

            We smiled at each other. There was not an inch between us painted in distrust or fear. Our fear resided everywhere else, outside of the warmth, the space we silently decided to make safe, as nothing else in the world could be that for us.

            The house didn’t take much work to break into, as it looked like people used it for shelter not long before us. The decision to take shelter seemed wise because the darkness of night fell thick and fast. We took turns on watch, holding out until the day we could enjoy a full night’s sleep again.

            That’s when I heard a sound coming from outside. It was probably 4a.m. A chilly breeze stirred the leaves and branches, the wood floor underneath my boots creaked as I shifted my weight, and the soft sounds of breathing from below me hummed in my ears. A small snap outside leaned in and struck me out of my half daze. The floorboards creaked louder as I crept over to the window, the frayed tarp covering it gently fluttered in the air. I knelt down, a stone chill spreading across my skin. My eyesight broke through the misty darkness out of pure stubbornness. I looked outside.

            Nothing.

            I exhaled.

            Snap!

            I raised my gun, ready.

            Snap!

            I searched the wooded lot feverishly.

            I looked down.

            An opossum scurried out of a bush and into another.

            Exhale.

            Snap!

            The chill leapt up to my skull. I peered to the right to see movement from behind the brush. My hand raised again, and I inched lower to the floor, taking cover underneath the window.

            And I heard that sound again.

            A figure caught the moonlight behind the brush, coming closer and closer. If it would just leave us unnoticed, I wouldn’t shoot. I held my breath.

            Click, click, click.

            What? I hadn’t heard that sound before. I scanned my sleeping companions, lingering on their faces, resting with a strength and tenderness I could never possess.

            Click, click, click.

            My heart raced as I gingerly lifted my eyes above the window seal to find it right there, not even a yard away from the side of the house. A horrid thing. A deformed, organic monster. My stomach lurched, and my gasp left my lungs before I could manage to stop it.

            Click, click, cl–

            I snapped below the window. Placing my hand over my mouth. My nose began to sting and my eyes watered. It had no eyes, no remnant of human features that I could see. It wasn’t like any Infected I had ever seen.

            I heard its footsteps in the grass, closer, closer, closer. Will it see them? Through the window? They may just be out of sight. When do I shoot? Once I shoot, it could alert more. What do I do?

            A dragging sound slowly sank into the side of the house. I swear it seemed to crawl inside my ears with an eerie low screech. Was it climbing? No, no, no. My chest pounded, my gun shook.

            Click, click, click.

            Thwack!

            I saw its shadow loom over the window and my gun soared upward. After that, the only clear thing I registered was the scream.

            The moments come back in flashes: the gun, the rough, putrid texture of the monster’s head, the cracking sound it made in what I can only imagine was pain, and how I sprinted toward them. I scooped up Ellie in no time, but its cold grasp sprawled up too fast and threw itself onto my back. I screamed. The feeling never goes away. And she dove forward, taking my gun.

            Thwack!

            Another hit. The cracking cry rang out and my gut told me there were more to come.

            “Move!” she screamed, holding up the gun, shaking.

            I dashed forward. I heard the quickness of her shot as soon as I ducked. She wasted no time. Maya never hesitated.

            “Tommy, take her!” Her last words.

            I saw what should never exist. The way the shot struck the monster and how its cracking recoil lashed back in agonizing, rapid hunger. It tore away at her. No speed could save her. That warmth snapped, broken. My warmth – Maya – fell away faster than I could save her.

            The only warmth left was the being in my arms, crying out in terrorizing belts. So, I followed instructions: I ran.

_________

I ran and didn’t stop. That’s just what I do best, isn’t it? I saw another trail marker on the other end of town directing me toward a farmhouse. I hit a dirt road and slowed to a walk, stopping to comfort Ellie, whose wails lessened and lessened slowly but surely. Soon enough, a farmhouse appeared two miles down that road where Marlene, Grif, and Mel were hiding out. Grif ran out the front door as soon as I got within eyeshot, and I saw his face change. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t need to. I didn’t say much for days, and no one asked me to take the night watch. I got a full night’s sleep, but it didn’t do a thing for me, so I just sat on the porch and stared down the street. Waiting? Thinking? I’m not sure. But I do remember Grif’s boot’s gently bowing the porch as he walked out from the house. He stopped off to the side of me, holding Ellie with one arm, not saying a thing. He held up a small boat made from bark and twigs, with a small pebble and white flower inside. He waited just a moment before continuing, heading toward the bank of a small stream on the south side of the house. My feet began to move, walking after Grif and Ellie, as the sound of memories flashed to my mind. Her laugh and my laugh, her voice, echoing:

“Everything’s got to feel a certain way, I guess.”

Written by: Kayla Harper

Image Credit

A Beautiful Day for Exploring

“It’s a beautiful day for exploring, Captain.”

Altha looked to the skies as the memory of her first mate’s words echoed in her mind. He’d spoken them on a day just like this one, a day beginning with clear skies and seas as smooth as glass, shining in the early morning light. Fin, had always been an early riser. He preferred to spend his mornings soaking in the sunrise before the rest of The Immobilis’s crew stirred from their slumber.

Altha, on the other hand, had never truly been fond of the mornings. Her wavy brown hair always worked itself into knots, and her blouses never ceased to find a way to wrinkle overnight. A tiny bedframe and rocking ship made her back constricted and stiff, and her waking mind was as muddled as gray fog. The only place the early morning fog seemed to clear was up in the crow’s nest, high atop the tallest mast, where the wind blew steady and the ocean spread high and wide.

And so, every morning before the break of dawn, Fin waited outside her chambers knocking twice to jar her from slumber. Once Altha managed to wrangle herself out of bed, he would took hand under the cover of the fading wisps of night, and escorted her to a ladder swaying in the wind. The ladder served as a rickety lifeline to The Immobilis’s crow’s nest, crafted from rapidly thinning rope ties, and anchored to the top with a bowline knot.

Fin always made her climb up first. He followed her closely, never outwardly admitting fear for her clumsy early-morning state. Occasionally, when she swayed in the wind, or lost her grip, she felt his firm hand resting on her back, holding her steady with a strength that only came from years of experience on the rough seas.

Crawling into the crow’s nest together, they sent the last sailor on night watch to bed. Altha still remembered hearing the sailor’s slight chuckle once he believed himself out of earshot. “The darn lovebirds are at it again,” he’d mumbled to himself, raising a flush of embarrassment in Altha’s cheeks.

“Watch your words or I’ll have your tongue,” she warned him, only for the sailor to turn with a shrug.

“You said that yesterday.”

As Captain of The Immobilis, a ship voyaging to explore the vast seas and whatever dangers lay within them, she needed to keep a reputation up among her crew. Their trust was paramount. Without their help, no exploration would take place, no treasure would be found, and no new worlds discovered. Stories told of her ship’s ferocity, courage, and unfailing resolve, so much so that The Immobilis was hailed as the ship that would never sink. Altha knew all the tales. Afterall, she’d perpetuated many of the myths herself. In her line of work, a reputation was the key to success.

But that reputation crumbled with Fin at her side.

Or perhaps it was she who crumbled.

Altha could still hear his ramblings, as he talked about a dream of finding a new world they could explore together. It was their shared dream, a belief that filled their waking minds with wonder as they theorized what it would look like when their ship finally crossed over to a new land. They’d vowed to explore whatever new sights they found together, always together. Altha still remembered how the corner of his mouth slanted into a smile as he told imaginary tales about what he theorized the new world would be like, sharing stories of tall gods that shook the earth, land stretching farther than the eye could see, and the two of them at the center of it all. He spoke of it with such clarity, she almost wondered if Fin really had seen the new world.

Every now and then, she remembered something that felt like a dream when Fin was telling his stories. Glimpses of an enormous wooden surface, carving tools, unfinished sails, and an unfamiliar voice speaking to her about her stories of ferocity, courage, and unfailing resolve, in soft tones that still managed to make her quiver. And each time, she’d shake off the hazy memories with thoughts of Fin. She remembered how his golden hair shone in dawn’s rising light as they huddled together in the crow’s nest, and how she lost track of time searching the ocean of his eyes. More than that, she pictured stolen moments, kisses hidden beneath the ship’s deck, love letters whisked away by the wind’s breath, and her terrible, terrible weakness.

His voice.

“It’s a beautiful day for exploring, Captain.”

His voice still called to her from the farthest shores of her mind. Rich and smooth, and as weighty as the ocean’s waves. When commanding the crew, there was a sharpness to it that demanded efficiency and respect, but when he spoke to her, the walls around his voice fell away into whispers of adoration every time he called her,“Captain.”  

He never said her name.

Perhaps it was out of respect for her, perhaps to hide the signs of their love from the rest of the crew, though everyone surely knew of it already.

Fin always addressed her as Captain.

Altha would have done anything to hear him say it again.

Staring into dawn’s rising light, she remembered how their last beautiful day had spiraled into skies as dark as night. Winds howled past, the seas turning on them as waves as tall as mountains crested over the bow of the ship. The Immobilis shook, sending sailors tumbling across the deck like drunken men unable to find their footing. Drenched in icy water, with salt stinging her eyes, Altha stood at the wheel, directing their course. She was responsible for keeping them steady.

She should have seen the wave coming.

Digging her nails into the wood of the ship’s wheel, Altha closed her eyes, letting the memory crash over her just like the wave.

“Brace yourselves!”

She remembered hearing Fin call to everyone, his voice especially loud at her ear level. He was at her side. He was always at her side.

Until…

For a moment, the entire ship was plunged underwater, the bow dipping under first before the rest of the body followed. Altha clung to the wheel with every muscle taunt, her breath caught in her chest, and her eyes squeezed shut. The water beat around her body, lifting her feet from under her, and threatening to pull her away before the ship emerged from under the current. The Immobilis, the ship that never sank, would live up to its legacy, but not without a cost.

The ship rose again, and Altha’s feet flew out from under her as her hands lost their grasp on the wheel. “Help!” She called, expecting to find a hand resting on her back, making sure that if she lost her grip she would not fall or fly away. 

But Fin wasn’t there.

The sharp sound of something shattering filled her ears, as The Immobilis was cast into uncharted territory. The sky fractured, pieces flying all around them in jagged shards, glassy shapes giving way to a new world. For a moment, as Altha glided in the air, her fear gave way to glory.

This was the world they’d been looking for. A new land across the sea. Altha watched as the glass ceiling she thought was the sky fell around her. Below, her ship lurched and tumbled, before coming to a standstill at last, on a smooth wooden surface. She too, collided with the hard surface, pain instantaneously spreading all across her body in furious waves.

Altha groaned as she tried to roll over, the shattered sky lay all around her ship, and the ocean spread farther than ever before, its waters mixing with small islands of dirt and dust bunnies on the floor of a new world.

Then came the tremors. Huge, bolder-like shoes shook the ground as the voice of a young god cried out above her. Tears spilled over the side of his mountainous face, like rivers joining with the ocean waters below. He stomped his feet, causing the ground to quake under his heavy stride, and shouting, “Oh no! I broke it!”

The feet of an older god appeared soon after, responding to his cries calmly. “Don’t worry, son. The ship is still intact, and I have another bottle I can put it in.”

Before Altha could comprehend what occurred, the hand of the older god picked her and the ship up. “It seems we almost lost our Captain too, hm?” he muttered, reaching for a bottle of what looked to be white paste on a wooden plateau. Too scared to move, Altha froze in his grip, her body still aching from the fall. She watched in immobile agony as he applied the paste to the bottom of her feet with his ever-so-cautious hands and planted her back at the wheel to her ship.

“A Captain has got to go down with her ship, you know,” The older god explained. “We can’t have the famous pirate, Captain Altha, known for her ferocity, courage, and unfailing resolve, getting separated from her ship.” 

While his tone teased, Altha felt her world shatter even farther with his words. His voice matched the one she’d heard whispers of in the hazy memories she dismissed as dreams. The words he spoke to her had been her stories, the ones she thought she’d crafted about herself weren’t hers after all. The world she’d lived and journeyed in hadn’t been hers either, but a construct created by someone else. And worst of all, she had let her ship sink. She’d let go, and sometime in the process, she’d lost Fin too. In that moment, it felt like she was drifting without any control, lost at sea without her anchor. Now, she was nothing but anchored. So secure that she would never drift away to explore new shores or fall into the arms of her love again.

The older god lowered the sails of the ship, bending it carefully to fit within the confines of a new sky, this one higher than the last, and the ocean wider as well. Altha would have been impressed if she’d never seen the world outside her own.

“I think one of the sailors broke,” She overheard the young god say. “The blond guy, he fell off the boat and snapped in half.”

Altha swore she felt her heart stop.

Fin.

He was talking about Fin.

Before she could hear the older god’s response, the sky was sealed off with a blot of porous wood. Silence overtook The Immobilis. Not even the sea breeze dared to breathe, or the ocean dare to sway. Everything returned to perfect stillness, just as it was before the storm.

Except for Altha.

Her heart felt like it had forgotten how to beat. Under the crushing news that Fin was no more, she wobbled and swayed, her body refusing to hold her weight, but she found that she could not fall to her knees. The glue on her feet would not allow her body to bend in such a way. Instead, she leaned against the ship’s wheel, her sobs echoing across the new world.

Fin was gone.

The day would never be beautiful again.

Altha opened her eyes, the memory receding to an ache she carried in her chest. The space at her side was still empty. Fin’s presence was still missing. Two full days had passed since the incident in which the sky shattered. Gradually, the crew had recovered from their shock. They soon began to mull about the ship once more, checking sails, mopping the deck, and taking shifts sleeping and keeping watch. Altha, however, found herself glued to her spot at the wheel with nothing to do but reminisce, watching the colors of dawn fade as time rolled by at a snail’s pace.

At last, she’d had enough.

“You there,” she called out her first order since the storm, pointing to a sailor meandering about. “Make yourself useful and help me remove the vile substance holding my feet hostage.”

“Yes, Cap’n,” The sailor replied with a quick salute, before shuffling off to grab a scraper and two other men. Together, the team of three sailors chipped away at the glue binding Altha to the ship deck, bit by bit. In what felt like an eternity later, Altha was freed.

“Well done. You’re a loyal crew indeed.” Altha congratulated her fellow sailors. “You will do well when I am gone.”

“Gone?” One of the sailors blinked up at her, his face scrunched up in confusion.

“Aye.” Altha nodded. “I’ve seen the new world we’ve all dreamed of reaching, and I don’t intend to stay in the confines of this one any longer. My goal is simple: I’m off to find Fin… or at least what remains of him. Should he truly be gone, he deserves a proper burial and send off. I cannot betray my dearest friend and give him any less.”

The crew nodded, each one understanding the weight of their Captain’s words. They knew her well enough to understand that she would go in search of her lost love until she either found him or lost herself.

“What are your orders?” a brave soul among them asked.

“Bring the ship forward, reach the porous wooden door that marks the end of the world, and ram The Immobilis against it. With luck, the force of such an action will fling it open.” Altha instructed, sending the crew into action immediately.

The Immobilis surged forward, following Altha’s commands. They raised the sails, straightened the rudder, and cast the ship into motion.

“Brace for impact!” Altha cried once more, her memory flashing back to the last time she’d exclaimed such similar words. She saw the fear in her crew’s eyes, as they doubtlessly imagined the same chain of events, the rocky storm that shattered their sky and sea, sending them tumbling into a world outside their own. A world Altha just pledged to return to. A world in which Fin still remained.

Altha gripped the wheel as The Immobilis crashed into the cork door, sending the blockade that sealed her inside the glass walled world flying out of place. A perfectly spherical exit opened up before her, raising a chorus of cheers from the crew. Altha felt she should cheer with them, to share in their joy of accomplishment, but all she could feel was a hollowness in her chest. Where a heart should beat, a hole remained, filled with the tension of looming anxiety.

 Now came the hard part: leaving.

Crossing over to the bow of the ship, Altha balanced on the ship’s end, and turned to face her crew. “Farewell, my loyal sailors. I leave The Immobilis to you now. Care for her as I have and sail bravely. Should fate be on my side, I may return to you. If not, live lives worthy of going down in history.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” The crew called back in unison, raising their hands to a salute as Altha climbed through the exit, squeezing her way through the narrow glass canal and back onto the wooden surface she recognized from before. It stretched as far and wide as a desert, before taking a steep drop off the sides. A variety of landmarks were scattered across its flat surface, each quite larger versions of things she recognized. A giant pen and pad of paper, a dried-up palette of paint, and a water glass. Then, a familiar set of colors, golden hair and ocean eyes walking, no running, towards her. His gait was sloppy, and he held a hand at his side, clutching his waist like he had a stitch in his side. A blue scarf was tied around his middle, a decorative ornament that likely served as more of a bandage than it did a fashion statement.

“Captain!” he shouted, his voice filled with all the tenderness she remembered, and a joy that matched the rapid beat that drummed in the heart Altha thought she’d lost.

She burst into tears.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Altha was running too. For once, she didn’t care if any eyes were watching, whether they be her crew or the gods of the new world. She threw herself at Fin, wrapping him in an embrace so tight she nearly knocked the breath out of him.

“You’re alive,” Altha breathed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “How can it be? I thought I lost you. I heard that you…” She paused and looked down at the scarf around Fin’s waist, recalling the young god’s words about him snapping in half.

“It’s true.” Fin confirmed her suspicions. “But, I was healed by the young god that caused the storm to surge by shaking our world. It seems he felt rather bad about what he’d done and wanted to make amends. He pieced me back together and gave me a colorful accessory to cover the wounds.”

“I can’t believe it.” Altha muttered, looking him over once more, expecting her eyes to betray her, and for Fin to disappear once more. However, his steady arms remained looped around her, holding her tighter than ever before.

“I can’t either. I saw you fall and I feared I’d lost you as well,” Fin replied, and she felt him release a long breath, his shoulders relaxing as he drew her in a little closer still. Then, he tensed as a soft tremor shook the ground.

“Someone’s coming.” Fin whispered, his arm slipping around her waist to hurriedly escort her away. The two hid behind the water glass as the hand of the familiar older god picked up the cork The Immobilis had recently discarded.

“How peculiar. I must not have secured this as tightly as I thought.” He mumbled to himself, reinserting the cork into the jar and closing off Altha and Fin’s only return to The Immobilis. With a gentle walk that had slowed with age, the god snatched the dried palette of paint off the desk, murmuring something about how it needed to be cleaned before walking off again.

Altha breathed a sigh of relief, grateful they hadn’t been caught. Fin cursed under his breath.

“That was our only way back,” he grumbled, visible frustration clouding his face.

Altha looked back at the ship with a different set of eyes. She couldn’t see it the same as before. What she saw now were the confines of a familiar world, a prison disguised as a great adventure, when in reality The Immobilis was bound to a glass jar and it always had been. Everything about it, from the stories she thought she’d created for herself, to the world’s design, had been crafted by someone else. She knew that now. She knew that if they returned, they’d never be able to choose a fate for themselves. They’d never go on a real adventure.

Altha shook her head. “There are no more journeys for us to take back there. Fin, this is the new world we’ve been searching for. The Immobilis can’t take us any farther.”

Fin paused for a moment, a bit of uncertainty crossing his face before he reluctantly nodded in agreement. “Perhaps you’re right.” A smile gently crept across his face as he offered her a hand. “It is a beautiful day for exploring, Captain.”

“Altha,” She corrected him softly. “I’m no longer your Captain.”

“Altha,” Fin repeated, the name bringing a smile to his lips. The sound of it drew a small shiver down Altha’s spine. She liked the delicate inflection of his voice, and the softness in the way he said her name.

“It’s a beautiful day for exploring, Altha,” Fin said once more, as Altha took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his as they took their first steps across the outside world together.

Altha agreed, looking across skies that were finally unfamiliar to her. “Aye, it is.”

Written by: Naomi Hernandez

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The Goodbye and The Hello – The New Beginning

“Hello, this is your Captain speaking! Switz Airlines welcomes you to Zürich, Switzerland. The local time is 1:00pm. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened, and keep the aisle clear until we are parked at the gate. Thank you for flying Switz.” I slept the whole way here, but the captain’s short landing speech woke me up right before landing. I still had time to watch the outside world from the little window, 1,000 feet up in the air. I slowly opened my eyes, rubbing them with my hands trying to find focus. The 13-hour plane ride, with less than 2 square feet to myself, isolated with just me and my thoughts and it seemed sleep was my only escape from the emotions piling up inside me. Too many emotions, too many feelings, and too many thoughts, all too much for me to embrace or deal with.

            As the plane parked, the passengers waited row, by, row to exit. Then came my turn to get up and grab my suitcase from the overhead. I had played that moment in my head, reaching up and trying to get my suitcase in the most non-embarrassing way possible because something about not being able to bring my suitcase down brought so much anxiety. But I slowly got up, and with all the might my little arms had, I grabbed my overstuffed suitcase and swung it down trying not to smash anyone around me. I rolled my suitcase down the aisle, saying goodbye to the plane because who knew how long it would be ‘till I rode another one.

            I made it out to the airport, so confused about where to go and where to exit, hoping an angel would just come down to guide me to my new apartment. Following the crowd out into the lobby, I pulled out the Uber app, checking to see who my ride was going to be because, for a mere second, I thought I saw a glimpse of my parents arriving to pick me up. I looked around for a silver vehicle, not familiar with the brand of this Switz car, and I found a face that looked similar enough to the one assigned to me in the Uber app.

“Hi, what’s your name?” I asked her, trying to look and sound as friendly as possible because she was indeed the first person I would be interacting with in this new country.

“Sofia! Are you Rebecca?” she asked.

“Umm yeah, that’s me.” She opened her trunk for me as I put my luggage in and got into the backseat. We sat in silence, probably because Sofia could sense the tiredness oozing out of me. I scrolled through my phone, sending updates to friends and family and my fingers naturally made their way to his number as well. They almost finished typing out an “I arrived” message until I caught and pulled myself back into reality. He no longer needed updates about my life. It was probably around 7am back in the States. I could imagine my parents waking up for their morning coffee and my friends still asleep, enjoying the last few days of sleeping in. I also wondered about him too, no matter how much I tried to resist it. But did he even care? Did his mind wonder about me like mine did him?

The other POV:

Of course, I thought of her. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was now 7:24am, exactly a day after she took off. I experienced a heartache like no other yesterday, and my body felt so tired and drained because it took everything in me to not stop her from boarding that plane and beg her for another chance, but I know I screwed up, and I know I probably lost the one person I could never replace. I also know I would have to live with that mistake for the rest of my life, just hoping this guilt and pain would slowly dim as time passed by. Because of all the pain I caused her and all the time I spent so selfishly, and now it was time to let her go because I owed her at least a little bit of selflessness. She had just landed. I knew this because I had kept up with her flight, making sure she was okay from afar. I had to come to terms and accept the new reality of being there for her, from afar. She might not have felt it, but I still cared, and for however long into the future I could see, I knew I would always care. Maybe in time, our paths would cross again, and as delusional as it seemed, maybe fate would be on our side, after all.

Written By: Bawi Sung

Image Credit

Faint Memories and Present Illusions: Part 1

The cold presence of my ivory hairbrush leaves my palm as I set the ornate handle down upon the smooth vanity. I lean against the worn wooden surface, purely out of habit, and lift my hand to hover above my head. Anxious thoughts flit through my mind, and I pinch my lips together. Not seeing my reflection does little to help my perfectionist tendencies. How I wish I knew I worked not in vain. Yet, I still glide my fingers over the simple style, adjusting stray hairs with slight nudges. 

            “You look immaculate tonight, love.” A familiar voice emanates from behind me. A voice that brought comfort to the darkened abyss I entered.

            I lower my hands and smile at the kind words. My fiancé has always reassured me, even when I do not recognize my actions. Gently moving my stool back, I stand and face his voice. As I shuffle forward, my dress brushes against the floor. I tilt my head and raise my hands to sign, “You truly think so?”

            Light footsteps move closer, and I feel his warm hand pick up my own. “But of course, my beautiful Vera. The blue dress you wear flatters your golden hair, even though you look stunning in every attire. Each strand on your head looks elegant but natural. Your smile lights up the depths of my soul,” He crosses our fingers together and leans down to my ear before saying, “If anyone thinks otherwise, that individual has less taste than the swine of the farm.”

            My cheeks warm with blood, and I hold my hands into Robin’s sight, signing, “You are too kind.” He pulls me into a hug, and I relish the feeling of his warm arms and the sound of his steady breathing. We stand in a calm embrace for a few moments longer before I tap his arm. “Should we not leave soon if we are to make it to your friend’s manor before sundown?” 

I hear Robin sigh and feel him step away. My heart yearns for him to envelop me with his warmth again while my mind swirls, anticipating the night ahead. A desire to stay and enjoy the calm night or to meet the friends my finance speaks of in few details, except for their mutual business interests. Yet, a promise is a promise. And Robin and I have promised to live life together. Such a promise formed out of young love and reinforced by trials and affiliations. 

He says, “I do believe you are right, my love.” 

The door squeaks as Robin opens it. Following muscle memory from hours of trial-and-error, I move swiftly toward the hallway while avoiding the furniture throughout my bedroom. After I reach Robin, I extend my hand, and he grasps it firmly. We enter the foyer and exit our house into the sun’s warm light. A soft breeze brushes against my cheek, and I smile as we approach our modest carriage. Robin helps me onto the bench and moves to prepare the horses. He returns quickly, and I pass him the worn leather reigns. The material leaves my palm, and Robin presses a soft kiss to my hand before the sound of the straps cracking through the air starts our journey. 

---

            The clomp of hooves against the dirt road and the creaky wheels echo in the brisk air. I love the feeling of autumn with the cooling weather and softly falling rain while the sun still holds the Earth in its warm embrace. Leaning onto my fiancé’s shoulder, I tap my wrist twice, signing to ask Robin for the time left in our travel. 

            He responds with, “Just a few more moments. It is just around this turn.”

            I nod as the smooth dirt path transitions to a loud, cobbled street. I fold my dress’s fabric between my fingers and steady my breathing. This night will be nothing other than sweet memories and new connections. Our carriage stops, and I glide my hand into the pocket of my dress to take out the final piece of my wardrobe, a blindfold. Passing the silky cloth to Robin, I let him tie the material around my eyes. Then, he climbs down and helps me get off. 

            “Thank you for coming with me tonight, my love. Your willingness to meet my colleagues means a great amount to me. I hope you find that Mr. Douglas’ hosting skills and my other acquaintances present an excellent representation of my work.”

            I sign my response, “Robin, dear, you are my eyes and I, your ears. Why would I waste such an opportunity to see your friend’s home?” After that, I link our arms together. “Introduce me to them.”

            “But of course.” 

            With that final comment, he guides us up the steps and into the manor’s foyer. I hear my heels click against the floor; perhaps it is made of stone? Voices mingle in the distance, and Robin guides me through the unknown space. We enter a spacious room filled with soft music and pleasant smells. 

            “Monsieur Caleb, I would like you to meet my darling fianceé, Vera. Dear, this is Caleb Monte and his wife Elanor.”

            I smile and extend my hand, saying, “It is a pleasure to meet you both. Robin wholly refuses to reveal details about his work. Naturally, I am curious. How did you all come to meet?”

            “Hmmm…Caleb and I met Mister Robin about three years ago,” a light voice responds, “We run a little bookstore next to the smithy he worked at. During lunches, we would dine together for company. It was quite a travesty when Robin went off to war. When the officials collected the drafted members, Caleb had an illness and stayed home with me. I believe that sickness saved his life. Now, we spend our time printing and selling books. I am particularly proud of our philosophy and Braile collections.”

            I give her a bittersweet smile and say, “It thrills me to hear that you have such happy memories with Robin. What genre of books do you sell in your Braile collection? I consider myself a literature fanatic, when I have the proper books, of course.”

            Robin moves his arm to grab my hand. He says, “Yes, my little Vera has quite the knack for reading. Darling, Monsieur Caleb’s store is the place where I get your specially printed books. Though I do sometimes wonder what it is in those books that captures your attention so well.” Leaning to kiss my cheek, he continues, “Now, Miss Elanor, would you introduce my fianceé to Lady Rowena? I do believe the three of you ladies will get along splendidly.”

            I ponder how I shall make it across the room without my guide. Tapping Robin’s arm to get his attention, signing, “Are you sure? I would love to meet new acquaintances, yet to leave you is unfamiliar. Should we not be together before the dinner begins?”

            “It is alright, my love. Elanor is a sweet young lady who I suspect understands our situation. Is that correct, Miss?”

            “Indeed, it is. Vera, I agree with your fiancé. Lady Rowena will adore you. I can guide you to her.”

            I think for a moment. Seeing nothing amiss in the situation, I respond, “Very well. Robin, dearest, will we sit together at dinner?”

            “I would dream of nothing else,” he says, unlocking his arm from mine. “Enjoy the night, my love.”

            I hear his light footsteps walk away. Shortly after, nimble fingers rest on my arm. Elanor guides me, saying, “Rowena is just over here. Nothing is between us and her other than guests.”

            The two of us walk across the large room. Pleasant aromas of dinner waft out of the kitchen, making my mouth water. I hear snippets of conversations as we walk past. Mentions of a Capulon, laughter between friends, and admiration of the manor’s beauty. What I would give to see the chandelier, table paintings, or the other decor my fellow guests speak of fondly, especially the garden.

            Elanor puts gentle pressure against my arm as she smoothly stops. She says, “My friend Rowena, I want you to meet Vera. I find her delightful with her interest in books and…do you have any other hobbies?”

            “I like baking, dancing, and playing music, specifically violin. But nothing compares to walks in a garden. Recently, I took up gardening, so I do not have to travel far for a relaxing spot to sit.”

            A new voice answers, “That sounds lovely, Vera. I am a bit of a musician if I do say so myself, vocal performance mostly. But I could never figure out baking, it is too complicated. Forgive me if this is rude, but how on Earth do you bake without your sight?”

            The suddenness of the question throws me off. “Muscle memory, I suppose. I spent so much time baking when Robin was away that it feels natural to make bread or other delicacies. Even after I lost my vision, the movements stayed,” I say.

            “That is truly incredible, Vera! You have quite a skill there.” Elanor exclaims.

            Rowena agrees, saying, “Perhaps you could come over and play the violin while I sing. Afterward, you could teach me to bake if you would like. Elanor, you would be welcome to come over as well.”

            Smiling at the thought of a new friend, I nod. “That sounds incredible, Rowena.”

            Elanor places her hand back on mine. “We were hoping you would get along with us. Robin speaks fondly of you but refuses to tell us anything beyond his admiration of your beauty and kindness.”

             I open my mouth to speak when Rowena adds a thought. “That man loves you, Vera. The way he looks at you even now from across the room shows his adoration. I remember the day you both started learning sign language. Robin came to work so excited and rejuvenated; it was almost as though he had never seen war. He told us you had found an old book with basic signs in one of the little retail shops and wanted to learn the language with him. That gesture meant more to Robin than you can imagine.”

            I feel a slight blush arise on my face because I had not realized he spoke of me when with others. Hearing how excited Robin was when we learned sign language warms my heart almost as much as it did when he helped me learn Braille a year ago. So much has happened since the day Robin went to war, the day he told me we would marry when he returned. He proposed the day after we reunited and intend to wed in 3 months. 

            “Rowena, we must introduce Vera to Marilyn!”

            “My goodness! You are correct, Elanor, the two must meet.”

            I tilt my head in confusion. I recognize the name but cannot recall where I heard it. Perhaps Robin had mentioned her at some point? As much as I connect to these two ladies, I do not know who this Marilyn figure is, nor what she could or can do. 

            “Do not worry, Vera. Miss Marilyn is a gracious host. You will find her a lovely addition to our friendship.”

            “Marilyn loves reading and baking. But her reputation comes from her beautiful garden outside. I suspect she would give you a tour if you so wished.” Elanor says as she reassuringly pats my hand.

            “She sounds interesting.” 

The person on my right, Rowena, by the sound of it, grabs my hand and guides me across the room while Elanor follows us on my left. We move steadily, and I hear new voices grow louder. I remove my hands from my acquaintances’ grasp and slightly lean against the table we stand in front of. 

A woman speaks, “Hello, I do not recognize your face nor do I think you recognize my voice. My name is Marilyn Capulon, and my husband and I own this manor.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Capulon. I am Vera Frazier. Thank you for having me in your home.”

“Ah, my dear, do not feel the need to address me as Mrs. Capulon. I shall think my mother-in-law is behind my shoulder. By chance are you engaged to Robin Achart?” 

“Why yes, yes I am. Do you know him just as Elanor and Rowena do?” 

Marilyn moves beside us and says, “If my memory serves me right, Michael and I met Robin about two years ago before he went off to the war. Michael wanted to commission a sword and your fiancé is one of the best smiths in the area. We started having lunch together with the Montes. I believe the gentlemen met up for a friendly sparring match every once in a while.”

I remember the days when Robin returned with dirty clothes and scratches. He would change and then tell me about his victories. He always had nimble and intentional movements when walking about town or completing tasks around the house; these movements played a part in his skill as a swordsman. When combining Robin’s natural skills with his talents as a smithy, I am not surprised that the army quickly claimed him as a soldier. Even though he had the skills for the job, as far as I know, killing foes goes against Robin’s morals. The war drained him in two ways: mentally from living among death, and physically from the explosion that took his hearing. It is peculiar that these people know him so well, yet Robin scarcely mentioned them or his work to me. Maybe during dinner, I can uncover what my love does when he leaves our home.

“Miss Marilyn,” a servant walks up and says, “dinner is ready, and the other guests are entering the dining room.” 

“Thank you. Rowena, Elanor, Vera, and I shall join the others momentarily.” 

            Elanor says, “Marilyn, what have you prepared for us tonight?”

            “Hmm, I will not say what we have planned precisely, but it is my favorite category, soup.” Marilyn pauses before saying, “Ladies, let us not keep the gentlemen waiting any longer. Vera, may I direct you to your seat?”

            “I would appreciate that.”

            Our group moves away from the table towards the delicious aroma from a neighboring room. Marilyn places her hand on my arm and guides me around the dining table to an empty chair. I hear the recognizable steps of my fiancé draw closer to us. 

            Robin’s voice says, “Here is your chair, my love.”

            “Thank you, Robin,” I say as I sit in the designated chair. He pushes my seat closer to the table, and I rest my hands on the soft cloth surface. Robin steps to my right and sits down in his chair. I hear the figure to my left speak. 

            “Hello, Vera, your fiancé and I are close friends. He has told me a great deal about your musical talents and language skills. Taylor Wilkins, at your service, miss.”

            “It is lovely to meet you, Monsieur Taylor. Meeting his acquaintances is always interesting. How did the two of you meet?” I ask both of the men at my side. Robin presses his arm against mine and clasps our hands together.

            “Vera, my love, I met Taylor during a strategy meeting. He and Michael were leaning over a table covered in maps while drinking hot tea. When I entered, Taylor passed me a third cup without looking up. I joined them and the other advisors and listened to the group talk through the statistics of either side’s troops. I worked to train the soldiers into swordsmen.”

            “Quite skilled in that field, Robin is. I do believe his swordsmanship skills only improved over the year or two when he trained the soldiers. Many would find it difficult to disarm your fiancé unless they had a distraction.”

            This information surprises me; not Robin’s skill and ability, but rather the frequency it seems he participates. I ask him why he neglected to share this with me.

            Robin sighs and says, “Love, I did not want to dwell on the past. Dueling for sport and killing to survive are extremely different actions. I prefer to enjoy my time with you or work in the forge, not thinking about what I did during the most challenging time of my life.” He squeezes my hand reassuringly and continues. “Anyways, you never showed interest in my duels before. I want to plan for the future, not think about the past.”

            The conversations around the table fall silent, and a clear voice welcomes the guests. “I hope your night has gone smoothly thus far. My wife and I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedules. Tonight, we dine on fresh baguettes with olive oil, a salad lightly tossed in a raspberry vinaigrette, followed by marvelous potato soup, which is Marilyn’s favorite, and a butterscotch soufflé for dessert.”

            Marilyn chimes in, “As always, we will have tea, coffee, and fruit mignardises after the meal while we continue to fellowship and enjoy one another’s presence. But enough about our plans, let us eat!” With her final words, I hear doors open, and multiple figures step out. Dinner begins.

---

            After dinner, I lean over to Robin and ask, “I was wondering, my dear, if I could go see this garden I have heard so much about from my new acquaintances. Simply sit in the moonlight and enjoy nature while you mingle with your friends.” It sounds like such a pleasant sight, but I will simply relish the cool air and fragrant scents. 

            “I see no reason not to, my love, as long as Marilyn does not mind you venturing through her creation.”

            Turning my face to the head of the table, I repeat my question to Marilyn. She responds, “That sounds like a lovely idea, Vera. My hydrangeas and hyacinths are in full bloom, which is unusual for this time of year. The fruit trees bear harvests of sweet cherries, apples, and peaches. I will show you to my favorite bench and let you soak in the atmosphere.”

            I thank her for her kindness, and we both stand and walk towards the manor’s exterior. Marilyn helps me down the stone staircase before guiding me across the courtyard to the aromatic garden. We remove our shoes and walk through the grass onto a stepping stone trail. After a moment, she steers us to the left.

 Marilyn stops before removing her hand, saying, “Directly behind you is the bench. I love this spot because the orchard surrounds the perimeter, and flowerbeds line the stone wall around the clearing. A little stream runs from this spot to the front entrance to the manor. I hope you enjoy the quiet and stillness of the world at night.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I will not hold you from your other guests longer, so if you must go, it was a pleasure to walk with you.” 

I hear her sigh and answer, “Unfortunately I cannot sit here with you for the rest of the night as I still have others to talk with. But I will find some other time to sit out here in the moonlight.” Marilyn steps away and walks back the way we entered. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Vera. You are a delight and I suspect we will get to meet again.”

I rest on the wooden bench and listen to the sounds of nature. A soft breeze rustles the leaves above my head, and chirps from crickets echo from the flowerbeds and grass. The fragrant scent of blossoms fills the air. I imagine the beautiful colors that decorate this spot. I think of purple hyacinths, classic red roses, a sunset of tulips, blue and white hydrangeas, deceptive pink snapdragons, and bright red apples and cherries nestling between leaves. Perhaps moths flit from flower to flower. Sitting in the calm of night brings a pleasant end to a lovely dinner.

            After about forty-five minutes of sitting in the moonlight, I hear Robin walk across the stepping stones into the clearing. He grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet. I sputter at the sudden movement and sign, “Gracious, Robin! You startled me.”

            He chuckles. “Well, what were you expecting? I cannot let a lady who is as beautiful as you sit alone. And you have always liked dancing, so I thought we could live in the moment.”

With that, he slowly moves, and I follow. My dress twirls as we spin around the clearing, our feet gliding to familiar steps. As we waltz, I reflect on the night and the people I met: Monsieur Caleb and his wife Elanor, a sweet couple whom I expect to spend more time with; Lady Rowena, a kind and passionate woman with a knack for politics and similar hobbies to mine; Monsieur Taylor, a charming young man who seems close with Robin, and our hosts, Michael and Marilyn, who appear generous and wise. Robin spins me into his arms, and we stand together under the moonlight. 

“Love, how did you like our little trip?”

I smile up at him, “I found it splendid and enjoyable. Your friends are so sweet and friendly. Later, I would love to connect with them more because they seem like good people.”

            Robin’s arms hug me. “That sounds like an excellent plan, darling. I will set up a gathering between you and the other ladies.” He spins me out on his left hand before stepping closer. He kisses my hand and continues, “We should leave soon so we get back home before midnight, my love.”

            “Sounds good.”

            We link arms and walk back through the garden. I stoop and put my shoes on before following Robin around the manor. He helps me into the carriage and climbs up after me. The cool night air keeps me awake while the carriage starts moving, and I lean against my fiancé and relax in my seat. I hold my hands out and sign to Robin, “I like Marilyn’s garden; do you think I can make my garden similar?”

            “Of course, love, not the same, but similar. She has a broken little well that I doubt we can replicate, but any flowers you desire, I will find for you.” 

I gasp. “Thank you, Robin! I cannot wait to add more to my garden.”

“Would you like to start with snapdragons?” He says with a smile.

Written By: Marian Markley

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Life Flipped Upside-Down Chapter Two

I haven’t moved from the doorway of their room, Deputy Williams just called for backup, and I can’t stop the tears from coming down my face. Noooo! They are gone, and I just didn’t realize that they’ve been here all day. Dead. And I just had no idea.

Oh man, that means I was probably here when they were murdered right? I mean I would have had to have been… but how did I not hear it? I mean yes, their bedrooms its on the other side of the house but it’s not that much of a distance from my room…

I slept in this house when someone murdered my parents, and I had no idea.

I started sobbing harder to the point where I lost control.

I feel someone move in front of me, I look up through the tears and see Mads, I can’t hold the tears back at all, I swear I never knew this much liquid can come out of a person. Yikes.

“Hey, Soph, why don’t we go to the living room? I don’t think sitting in here and seeing them this way…  I just think we should move you.”

All I could do was nod. I felt like my voice was literally taken from me. I don’t know what is happening, there are so many questions just spinning around in my head, and most of them unanswered.

I sit in the living room curled up in a ball; Mads sits next to me. I think she’s trying to comfort me, but I just don’t really feel it.

“Hey, you doing okay, Soph? Do you want some water or something to eat?”

“No… No thank you –  I just don’t know what to do anymore Mads, like, what’s next?”

“Oh, Sophia I have no idea, I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

I started sobbing again. and Mads wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug; that’s when I see him. A lot of people come in and out of my house tonight, but he acted differently. He walked in like he owned everybody around him, and they let him do that.

He strolls straight up to me, and I know he’s here about my parents. I mean they all are; I’m just not ready to answer 10 million questions that I don’t have answers to. I barely know what’s happening.

“Hello, I’m Detective Clark. I’ll be the lead detective on your parents murder.”

I was busy studying him and trying to figure out how this man got in my house. I mean obviously, he’s here for the death of my parents, but he’s not someone I picture doing this partly because he looks very young . But I guess I took too long studying him, since Mads times in with her opinion right away.  

“Lead Detective? Aren’t you a tad bit young? I mean, no offensive,e but this is my best friend, and she just found her parents dead in their own home. That means someone got in their house and killed them and but left her completely unharmed, so my question is do you really think you can figure out who did that and make sure she stays safe?”

“Mads, goodness, the man barley got here and hasn’t even started his job yet, and you’re already questioning if he can do his job?”

“It’s no problem, Miss Johnson, and yes I am young. I graduated early and worked hard to get here. I assure you that I will be putting all my effort into this case to figure out who killed your friend’s parents, but to do that I do need to ask questions.”  

He turned his head towards me, as if asking my permission to start asking the questions. The thing is once the questions start, they will never stop, at least until they find the killer and maybe even past that, too. The questions will never stop chasing me, and I don’t know if I can handle it.

“Okay I’m ready to answer your questions, but please call me Sophia –  Miss Johnson seems way to formal.”

He nodded and sat down next to me and Mads on the couch.

“Alright, Sophia, we are going to start with some basic questions, just so I can get an idea for time of death on your parents. When was the last time you saw them?”

“The last time I saw my parents physically alive was 7 p.m. last night: my mom wasn’t feeling well, and my dad followed her. They both went to sleep, and then I went to bed around 8pm.”

“What time did you leave for school this morning?”

“8:30 a.m. to arrive there by 9 a.m. I wake up at 8.”

“You didn’t say “good morning” to your parents or go to their room this morning?”

“My parents leave at 6:45 to be at their office by 7, so they leave an hour before I even wake up. No, I didn’t say good morning or go anywhere near their room because they should’ve been at work. Do you think I killed them? These don’t sound like questions but more of an interrogation.” 

“Do I think you killed your own parents? No, I don’t think that at all, not in the slightest, but someone did. These questions are not going to be easy; however, you’re the closest person to them, as well as the last person who saw them alive. Therefore, unfortunately, you are our only suspect in this entire investigation. We have a lot more questions unanswered that you probably want answers to. Please allow me to do my job and ask them, so I can figure out who killed your parents. That would be appreciated.”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you how to do your job; what’s the next question?”

“No worries, let’s just continue. When did you get home this evening from school?”

“I got home around 5:15. It’s about a 25-minute drive, and I don’t get out of school until 4:45.”

“Mmmm, okay, is there anyone else who works in this house or anyone who knows personal information about your parents? Also, is there anyone who has a key to his house and has access to this house.”

“There’s no one who works in this house. My parents always said they never wanted me to be surrounded by that kind of thing, and the only other person that has a key to my house is my best friend Maddie.”

“Are there any cameras in this house or any other security measures?”

“No cameras that I know about and no security, except for the alarm system.”

“Alright, I am going to need to collect the pajamas you both wore last night, and Sophia is this the outfit you wore to school, or did you change when you got home?”

“Uh, this is what I wore when I went to school; why do you need our pajamas?”

“We need to test them for DNA and blood from your parents.”

“But why Maddie’s? Is it because she has a key?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“So, then she is a possible suspect in this case, and her clothes must be tested, as well. I also need you to change out of these clothes, as I need to take them, too. Finally, I need you both to come to the station with me for further questioning and fingerprinting.”

I agreed with everything he was saying, he’s probably not blaming us just needs to clear us, but of course Mads had to open her mouth and make everything look ten times more suspicious than it needed to be.

“You think I killed my best friend’s parents just because I have a key to her house. I wasn’t even here at all last night. I spent the entire night with my parents, and I don’t have to give you anything at all. I didn’t kill them.”

“I never said you did, but to clear both of you from the investigation, I need to collect all of this for evidence. We’ve already contacted your parents, Miss Hanson, and they will meet us at the station. So, if you two would just please cooperate with this investigation, I can clear both you faster and search for the real killer. That would be great.”

He stood up to go and talk to some of the other investigators and left me and Mads alone on the couch; I never saw her so mad and so quiet.

“Come on, let’s go get all this together for him so we can get to the station, I would like to wake up from this nightmare as soon as possible. I know you didn’t kill them, and neither did I, so what’s the big deal in just doing what they ask?”

“I guess there’s not anything wrong with it. I just don’t like how everyone is acting like you didn’t just find your parents murdered in your own home and treat you like the prime suspect in their murder. Anyone who saw your reaction would know there’s no way you did it; you broke the minute you saw it.”

“Mads, he wasn’t here when I found them, and I don’t think anyone forgot about it. Trust me, it sucks but I would rather they try and find out who did it instead of sitting on their butts doing nothing. If that means they have to DNA test me and ask 5 million questions, then fine.”

“Okay. Okay, I just wanted you to be okay and not freak out. It’s a lot to take in.”

I throw my clothes from last night and the outfit I had on into a bag and tie it off ; then, I grab everything I’m going to need, including some clothes and my school bag because there’s no way I’m sleeping in a house that my parents were killed in.

Mads and I walk back out into the living room where Detective Clark is still talking to, I’m guessing, his team. We stand off to the side and wait for the okay to head to the station. Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in an empty room alone waiting for someone to come and talk to me. They took everything from me, my phone, my watch, and my laptop; then, they separated me and Maddie. About an hour goes by before anyone comes in, and it’s just someone to do my fingerprints. I ask how much longer I’m going to be here because it’s now already 1 a.m., but they have no answer.

It’s 1:30 when Detective Clark finally comes into the room; he sets a pile of folders in front of me and sits down across from me. I got a gut feeling that this isn’t a very good meeting we’re about to have.

“Sophia, when was the last time that you went into your parents’ bedroom?”

“I…don’t know maybe Wednesday.”

“What did you do in the room? Did you touch anything at all? Where exactly did you go in the room, and how often do your parents wash their sheets?”

“I don’t remember what I did exactly or what I touched. I know that I asked my mom for help on a paper, and I have no idea when they wash their sheets. What’s happening? What did you find?”

He just sits there and writes down every word that I say; he sets his pin down and looks at me, and it’s the kind of look that shows me he doesn’t want to tell me what’s coming next.  

Detective Clarks POV:

I got both Sophia and Maddie down at the station but once we get there, I’m called back to the scene almost immediately. My team found something that just couldn’t wait. I tell the deputies working to separate the girls into questioning rooms and take everything from them, especially electronics, and to have someone take both of their fingerprints.

I drive back to the scene, and once I enter, three men from my team meet me.

“What do you got, better be good or we will have problems?”

“Sir, we found the murder weapon and also 25 cameras all around the property.”

“Sophia said there weren’t any cameras, so how the heck did you find multiples?”

“She might not have known about them, they were hidden in and outside of the house, some even in her and the parents’ bedrooms.” 

“Are you saying that we may have solved this murder in less than 24 hours because the camera might’ve recorded the entire murder?”

“That’s exactly what we are saying, Sir.”

“Okay, take all the camera’s down, pack them up in evidence, gather more evidence of Sophia’s room, as well, and I need every computer in this house packed up, too.”

“Sir, this isn’t the only thing we found.”

“What else did ya got?”

They look at me like I just asked them to solve this murder themselves, like I’m some kind of mad man.

“SPIT IT OUT NOW.”

“We found tapes.”

“Tapes? Like video tapes?”

“Yes sir, they were hidden in the parents’ bedroom, in a safe in their closet.”

“Okay pack them up, then; we’ll look at them with the rest of the evidence.”

They do nothing, not a single movement toward the orders I gave them. When did my team become so stupid?

“What is wrong with you? Why are you still standing there when two very important lawyers lie dead in their bed. We need to figure out who did it and why; get a move on.”

“Sir, we think the videos may be attached to the girl, Miss Johnson their daughter.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They date going back to when she was 6 and continue all the way up to exactly a month from last night. Each is marked for 13^th of every month, from when she was six to now.”

“Okay, why is this so important?”

“Last night was the 13^th of May, so last night must also have been recorded for some reason.”

“Okay. Put them in a special evidence box and give them to me; I’ll view them at the station.”

This time, they finally listen to me and get to work; I walk back to the crime scene and note that it’s taped up and in the full swing of the investigation. Wow, whoever did this made sure the other person wouldn’t hear a struggle: the weapon of choice was a garrote. The murderer clearly wanted it to be quick and quiet but as messy as possible. I grab a few more things for evidence and make sure that I get all the pictures from the scene faxed over to me for development. 

The tapes get packed into a special evidence box, along with the murder weapon and everything else in the safe where the tapes were found. I grab the box head out. I load up my car as the forensic pathologist arrives to retrieve the bodies. Hopefully, I can get a time of death in a few hours and discover who died first. I drive back to the station and go to my office as I glance through the box.

My team was right: these date all the way back to 2011, which lines up with Sophia’s date of birth. They start when she was the age of six. I keep going through the dates until I find one from when she was about 10, popping it into my computer to see what was so important about these tapes that they had to be locked in a safe.

The entire thing is about 12 hours long, and it looks like it’s the camera in Sophia’s bedroom recording. I fast forward the video 6 hours to about 3 a.m. Nothing happens, so I start going through the box again, but then, I catch movement on my screen. The timer shows 3:33 a.m., and she’s standing up in her room staring at the door. She then starts walking towards the living room of her house, the camera follows her movements, and I deduce she’s not sleep walking. She’s perfectly awake and knows exactly what and where she’s headed. I sift through a couple more videos, skipping two ages at a time, until I get to the last three months.  All of them show her waking up at exactly 3:33 a.m., and she’s planning something in each one. She appears to be a completely different person. This confuses me.

Around 1a.m., my team arrives with the other evidence, and I locate the computer found in Mr. and Mrs. Johnson’s room. I scroll through and find footage from last night’s camera; just as in the other videos, at 3:33 a.m., Sophia gets out of bed and walks around the house. This time, she goes back to her room and pulls a box from her closet, bringing it to her parents’ bedroom door; she then opens the door and walks. The camera shifts to the bedroom, too,  and she walks to her father’s side of the bed, puts the box on the ground and opens it.

“Dang it the bed is blocking the view; what’s in the box, Sophia?”

I pause the video and pick up my notepad and folders from the case, going straight to Sophia’s interrogation room. I set the folders down and sit down across from her.

“Sophia, when was the last time you went into your parents’ bedroom?”

“I-…. don’t know maybe Wednesday.”

“What did you do in the room? Did you touch anything at all? Where exactly did you go in the room, and how often do your parents wash their sheets?”

“I don’t remember exactly what I did or what I touched. I know that I asked my mom for help on a paper, and I have no idea when they wash their sheets. What’s happening? What did you find?”

I stare at her, she just lied to my face; she was there in their room last night. Does she think we are really that stupid?

“Sophia, we know that you were in their room last night, around 3:45 a.m.”

“No, I wasn’t, I was asleep, and how do you know that?”

I stood up and signaled for my computer, which I set right in front of her with the camera footage paused from last night. 

“Why do you have camera footage of my house?”

“I’m guessing you didn’t know that your parents had cameras all around the house, did you?”

“No, I had no idea; this is me last night? Are you sure? There’s no way, I was asleep, I don’t remember this at all!”

“Sophia, we recovered tapes, recorded on the 13^th of every month, every year since you were 6,  hidden in your parents’ house.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your parents recorded your behavior on the 13^th of every month. You have no idea what you are doing in this video?”

“No… no, I don’t? Did I kill my parents? Oh my! Did I do this to them?”

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

Written By: Alexis Farino

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