All the World’s a Stage: Part 2

Kessy 

Her eyes opened slowly, fluttering, unused to the dark. Where am I? What happened? Where is the sun?  

“Are you okay?” She realized someone was addressing her, and she turned her head, focusing her gaze on the boy in front of her. 

“Where am I?” she asked before her legs collapsed beneath her.  

The boy lunged for her, unable to reach her in time. She hit the ground hard, the jolt somehow simultaneously waking her up and deadening her senses again. Blearily, she realized the boy was throwing himself down beside her, cradling her gently. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you—Sassa, down!”  

Something wet and fuzzy shoved itself in her face, and she realized a dog was snuffling at her, presumably making sure she wasn’t a danger to the boy who had saved her. Then the dog licked her gently, and she smiled.  

“Are you all right?” the boy asked. He had a nice face—square and angular with kind eyes. She couldn’t make out the color—she couldn’t make out much of anything in the dark. Was she in the Lower Court? How did she get here? 

“I…I don’t know,” she murmured.  

“Can you tell me your name?” His voice was gentle. Soothing. She found herself trusting him, even though she didn’t know if she should.  

“Kassiopeia—I mean, Kessy,” she said.  

The boy chuckled. “Which is it?” 

“I go by Kessy.” 

He helped her sit up a bit more. “Well, Kessy, my name is Kandor, and you’ve already met Sassa. She’s friendly, don’t worry.” 

Kessy rubbed Sassa’s silky ears absently, trying to remember back. What happened before? She knew she came from the High Court, but to her horror, she couldn’t remember why—or how—she left.  

Kandor must have noticed the fear in her eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll help you. You’re safe here.”  

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be here,” Kessy said.  

“How did you get here?” 

“I don’t know.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t remember anything.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I have to get home!” 

Kandor stood with her. “I’ll take you home, Kessy. Where…where is home?” 

She looked up, searching futilely for a sun she knew wasn’t there. “I’m…from the High Court, Kandor. I don’t belong here.” 

Kessy dared a look into Kandor’s eyes. He looked as surprised as she felt. “The High Court? You shouldn’t even be allowed to pass through the Medial Court to here.” 

“I know.” A tear dripped off of her cheek, and Kandor must have been able to see it, because he rested his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll fix this, Kessy.”  

She looked up at him gratefully. “How?” 

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Not sure yet. I’ll figure something out; I always do. For now, why don’t you come home with me? Get something to eat, maybe sleep for a while. Tomorrow, I promise, I’ll help bring you home.” 

Kessy hesitated. Every instinct she had told her not to follow a stranger in a strange land back to his house—not to eat his food or indulge in any kind of his hospitality. But Kandor seemed genuine. His hand on her shoulder was gentle and reassuring. And Sassa didn’t seem cautious with her at all.  

She relented. “Okay…thank you…”  

He winked at her. “Sure thing. Can you walk?” 

Kessy gingerly took a step forward, then another. Pain shot up her legs, the spidery kind of discomfort one feels after sitting on their foot for too long. She took a deep breath and tried again. The pain flared sharply, then diminished. “Yes.” 

“You sure?” 

Kessy nodded. “Let’s just…go slow.” 

Kandor clicked his tongue for Sassa, who had wandered off, sniffing along the leave-covered floor, no doubt looking for bugs to consume. “Come on, girl.” Sassa abandoned her hunt and padded faithfully back to Kandor, and he worried her head between his hands affectionately. “Keep your hand on Sassa’s head,” he told Kessy. “She’ll follow me.” 

Kessy let her fingers rest on Sassa’s golden head, scratching the soft fur gently. Kandor turned, and Sassa followed her boy, guiding Kessy out of the dark forest and into the deepness of the night beyond.  

Kandor, it turned out, lived in a small apartment on a university campus. “They pay for my housing while I’m a student here, because I care for my sister full-time,” he explained. “Sorry, it’s pretty tight.” 

“I don’t mind.” Kessy craned her neck, studying the towering spiers above her. “How old is your sister?” 

“She’s five,” Kandor said, and Kessy didn’t miss the love in his voice. “Our parents died when she was three, so it’s just the two of us.” He backtracked. “Well, that’s not entirely true. My best friend and his wife help a lot. They don’t technically live with us, but they might as well,” he added with a smirk.  

“What’s her name? Your sister, I mean.” 

“Amily.” He flashed her that crooked smile again. “And she’s a handful. Just letting you know. I’ll tell her to behave.” 

“No, I don’t mind,” Kessy said, a smile turning up her lips again.  

“All right, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Kandor knocked on the door, rapping a short beat that Kessy guessed was their special code. After a few minutes, the door unlocked and opened, and Amily stood there, frowning. 

“You’re late.”  

Kandor chuckled, scooping her up. “Sorry, Ami. I got a little distracted.”  

Amily glanced over his shoulder. “Who is that?” 

“Ah yes, the distraction in question. Amily, this is Kessy; Kessy, this is Amily. Say hi, Ami.” 

“Hi,” Amily said, “Your hair is pretty.”  

“Thank you,” Kessy said, blushing slightly. “So is yours.” 

Amily had the wispy curls of a toddler just growing into childhood, the same brown as her brother. Her eyes, huge and luminous, almost perfectly matched Kandor’s, grey and sparkling. She bore a contented air about her, probably due to a life with nothing more than her brother’s love and a tiny suite to grow up in. She didn’t know how to want more.  

“Where did you come from?” Amily asked, her face scrunched in confusion.  

“Amily, you can’t just ask that,” Kandor scolded, but Kessy laughed.  

“No, she’s fine. I came from the High Court.” 

Amily’s already round eyes grew even rounder. “Really? Where the sunshine is?” 

Kessy nodded, realizing just how much she took eternal daylight for granted.  

“What does it look like?” Amily’s voice was soft. Full of wonder. 

“Well…” How did one describe what they considered monotonous? Normal? “The colors are so bright, all the time. And it’s warm. The buildings sparkle. The water is so blue and so clear, you can see all of the fish swimming in it.” 

Amily’s mouth was open. “Wow. I want to go—Kandor, can I go back with her? When she leaves?” 

Kandor’s smile was sad. “I don’t think so, Ami girl. I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s not safe.” 

Amily sighed, resting her head down on her brother’s shoulder. “You say that about everything.” 

Kandor met Kessy’s gaze, and she could see how sad it made him to say no to his sister. “What’s the moon like, Amily?” Kessy asked, changing the subject, and Amily haltingly described a night with a full moon as Kandor led them all inside.  

The suite was small but cozy, with a door off to the side that Kessy supposed was the bedroom. Kandor set Amily up on the counter and busied himself with getting them dinner.  

“Can I help?” Kessy asked.  

Kandor smirked at her. “Nope.”  

She smiled back and leaned against the counter next to Amily, listening to the two of them chatter back and forth as Kandor prepped their meal.  

“What did you do today, Amily?” 

“Aunt Hadda came by today and made me lunch.” 

“That’s Hadassy, my best friend Juna’s wife,” Kandor explained to Kessy. 

“And she made me take a nap.” Amily wrinkled her nose. “Uncle Juna never makes me take a nap.” 

“It’s good for you. Don’t touch this, it’s hot.” He moved a pan off of the stove. 

“I’m too big for naps.” Amily stood up, wobbling slightly.  

“No one is too big for naps.” Expertly, he set the pan down with one hand and pulled her back down to a seated position with the other. “Sit.”  

Amily plopped back down dejectedly. “Are you?” 

“Stars, no. I could take a nap right now if I tried.” He smiled at Kessy.  

Remembering they had a guest, Amily turned to her. “How old are you? I’m five.” 

Kessy ruffled her curls. “I’m eighteen.” 

Amily thought for a moment. “Kandor is nineteen. Why are you down here instead of up where the sun is?” 

Kessy hesitated. “I…don’t know.” 

Kandor cut in here. “That’s what we’re going to find out. I…found her in the woods tonight.” 

“Can you not remember?” Amily slowed down on the word remember, and Kessy guessed it was a word she was learning.  

Kessy shook her head sadly. “No, I can’t.” 

“Oh.” Amily scooted a bit closer. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I’m…sure I will, eventually.”  

Kandor helped his sister off of the counter. “Time to eat.” 

Amily clamored up into her chair and watched Kandor ladle soup into her bowl. “Blow on it first,” Kandor instructed.  

“Why?” 

“Remember how you burned your tongue last week?” 

“Oh, yes.” Amily blew loudly on her soup while Kandor served Kessy.  

“Careful, it’s hot,” he said, almost as an afterthought. Kessy supposed he said that to Amily at nearly every meal. He probably didn’t even realize he said it.  

“Thank you,” she said softly. Shyly. She felt her blush creep up again.  

“Sure.” Kandor sat down and ladled soup into his own bowl, only to be interrupted by the door opening again. “Stars’ sakes, Juna.” 

“Hi, all!” came a cheery voice, and then someone new strode into the room. He was tall, taller than Kandor, with light brown hair. He punched Kandor in the shoulder, dropped a kiss on Amily’s head, and paused when he saw Kessy. “Kandor, did you bring home a g—” 

Kandor smacked him. “No, I did not. Kessy, this is Juna. Juna, shut up.” He was beet red.  

“Hellewwww, Kessy,” Juna said, shaking her hand dramatically. “You should know that you are the first girl Kandor has ever brought home.” 

“Juna was just leaving,” Kandor said tightly. 

“Juna was not just leaving.” Juna pulled out a chair and sat beside Kessy. “Tell me everything about yourself, Kessy.” 

“Juna,” Kandor warned, raising his voice in pleading emphasis on the last syllable. Amily giggled, reaching over to smack him too.  

Juna clutched his heart. “Even Amily turns on me.” 

Kessy smiled, watching them all interact. “It’s really not what you think,” she said.  

Kandor jumped on this. “Hear that, Juna, you bonehead? It’s not what you think.” 

“It never is, is it?” Juna propped his chin on his fists, looking at Kessy intently. “Well? Details.” 

“I…wish I had details to give.” She really did. She liked Juna. “I’m from the High Court but I don’t know why I’m here.” 

Juna sucked in a breath. “What?” 

Kessy sighed, looking down at her bowl. “I’m just as confused as you are.” 

Kandor kicked Juna underneath the table. “That’s all we know.” She saw him give Juna a pointed look, like Not in front of the child.  

Juna paused, then cleared his throat. “Well then, Kessy from the High Court, let me be the first to say welcome to the void that is the Lower Court. I hope you enjoy your stay. Stars know the rest of us don’t.”  

Behind the Glass

~A continuation of Mirror Mirror~

It’s been 2 hours and I’ve decided that there’s nothing wrong with the mirror. I didn’t look that way. The glass couldn’t have shattered around my reflection only to mend itself perfectly again. It was merely a delusion concocted by my mind. A startled, silly reaction and nothing less. I’d been getting too little sleep and reading too many fantastical stories in my spare time, longing for a life of freedom and magic someplace else as someone other than myself. Clearly, my imagination had been running wild. 

With a quick step of courage, I reached for the mirror again, sweeping it off the ground. See? It was just an object…or so I thought, until I looked into it again. Placing the mirror at an angle meant to avoid my face, I surveyed my room cell through the mirror and found it to be quite different from what I could naturally perceive with my own eyes. The furniture was the same, everything a perfect reflection except… for the faces haunting the dark. Creatures of smokey black and gray with twisted smiles and filmy white eyes laughed at me through the mirror. They clung to the corners of the room with hands like a spider’s webs, attached to bubbling bodies of varying shapes and sizes that breathed with sulfurous yellow breath. 

“Look at your reflection,” One taunted, crawling up on my shoulder and squeezing its webbed fingers into my shoulder blade. “Oh, you’re an ugly one, aren’t you? An ugly body for an even uglier soul.” 

Another phantom creature laughed in response. “That’s right. We know what you’ve done. We know what happened that night. It must have been something like 152 days ago, wasn’t it?” It laughed maniacally. “I won’t let you forget.” 

“You’re to blame,” the phantoms whispered in unison. “Just look at yourself. See who you really are.” 

Forcing my eyes to peer into the glass surface of the mirror, I saw the same reflection as before. The face looking back at me was shattered, but the glass wasn’t broken, the girl was. 

No she wasn’t, no, no… 

She’s fine.
I’m fine.

But the mirror said otherwise. My heart caved in, shivering in misery, and before I knew it, my hands moved on their own and the mirror was thrown into the air. It twisted and turned, my broken reflection passing by once, then twice, the phantoms laughing with each spin before the handheld mirror shattered against the wall. Only then did it truly crack. A ripple spread across the glass, revealing a glowing light underneath the surface. For once, the light was golden, not gray. Something about it felt magnetic, and I found myself leaning into the glow, reaching for the light beneath the surface, the hope that lay behind the mess I’d made of myself. 

The light exploded outward, painting the walls of the room gold and bringing the world back into color. But along with the currents of gold came the world within the mirror. The glass shards flew at me, striking my face one by one with each palpitation of my heart. And in my heart I felt the sting of its pain as the pieces aligned themselves into a moon-like curve along my face, from the tip of my hairline to the bottom of my chin, covering the scars that textured my face. It felt no different from when the surgeries were taking place, a silent pain gone unnoticed, stitching together my imperfections to mirror the shattered reflection I had once seen. The floating phantoms laughed even as they were pushed back by the light of the mirror’s day. 

“This is who she is,” they jeered. “See her shattered face! See the monster she made herself into!” They called as they dissolved into the currents of gold, the last of the mirror’s strength pushing them away. Each word felt like yet another jab to the heart, and as my hand rose to feel the newly textured side of my face, I couldn’t help but believe they were right. Sharp fragments pushed against the fragile skin of my fingers, drawing a single drop of blood from my pointer finger. This part of me hurt everything it touched. It was cursed. I was cursed.  

Maybe that’s why I couldn’t save her that night. 

A voice cut through the thoughts circling around my head. “You shouldn’t listen to that.” 

Looking over to where the remnants of the mirror lay, I saw a spirit like that of a golden dove resting atop of the mirror’s face. Small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, it glowed with light brighter than day. With wings like sunbeams and eyes as bright as the moon, it didn’t take me long to realize where the golden glow of light within the mirror came from. This spirit hid behind the glass the entire time, and its glow now basked my room in light. With a flutter of its wings, it raised its small body into the air and came to rest on my shoulder where it plucked a thin, wormlike phantom from behind my ear. 

“This one nearly escaped,” it said, before swallowing the creature whole. Strangely, once the phantom was gone, I felt like a weight lifted off of me. I was suddenly far more comfortable than I remembered ever being, and in this moment, my heart felt like it was at peace. 

“What is all of this? And what are you?” I whispered to the dove, astonished by all I saw, and hardly able to make sense of it. 

The dove titled it’s head and looked at me with gentle eyes. “Calm your heart; looking into the Beyond takes everyone by surprise when they first see it.” 

“The Beyond?” 

The dove nodded at my exclamation. “Yes, it’s a plane of existence beyond what your eyes can naturally see. Some would call it a spirit realm, others an alternate dimension within your own. The mirror your grandmother gave you allowed you to gaze into this realm, and now it is a part of you. You will continue to be able to see into this realm until each piece of glass falls from your face and you allow yourself to heal.” It replied, raising a gentle wing to grace the side of my face where the glass still lay in fragmented shards. Two pieces fell off into its wing, shining like mosaic tiles. 

“It looks like you’re healing already, now that those dark phantoms you saw are gone,” the dove explained. “The ones you saw earlier are what we in the Beyond call Shrouds. They are dark creatures that feed off of the worst of human emotions. They taunt people by keeping them in a cycle of misery where they continue reliving their worst fears, worries, and despairs. The more you hate yourself, the worse you feel, and the harder it becomes to distinguish your own thoughts from their words, the better the Shrouds feel.” The dove explained. “As for me, think of me like a guide. My purpose is to help you, just as I have done for generations before you.” 

“Help me with what?” I asked, feeling my voice fill with emotion. “You want to help me heal? Well, I’ve been trying and nothing has worked. Nothing can fix what happened to me.” 

“I know what happened 152 days ago,” the dove stated with a boldness I didn’t expect. “The question is, are you willing to face it?” 

I wavered. I didn’t want to face it. I wanted to avoid it for the rest of time. The guilt of what happened, of the blood on my hands, was too much. Yet, away from the presence of the Shrouds, I felt like I finally stood a chance. “Sure,” I whispered, barely able to say any more. My eyes surveyed the walls around me, trying to remember the last time I stepped outside of them, the last time I tried to face my fears. I kept count of everything, everything but that. It was shameful to think of how long I’d been there. Trapped. Cornered. Locked in. So maybe, just maybe, it could be nice, learning to live again. 

~To be continued~

Written By: Naomi Hernandez
Image Credit

How to Start Saving People

Inspired by the HBO Adaptation of The Last of Us 

5 – A Time 3 Months Later 

The world looks about the same as it did 3 months ago. It’s still cold and gross outside, but a bit of green is starting to come back; I don’t look forward to the pollen that will grace the woods around us in the weeks to come. By some miracle, I’m still alive and so is Ellie. She’s growing fast, and I owe everything to Stevie. She has the sort of patience I simply don’t possess. Children are not my forte, but I love Ellie. She’s Anna’s blessing.  

Marlene is happy these days. Her little smuggler man does her dirty work, and with more intel on the happenings inside the QZ, she created more connections and initiated more people into the Fireflies. I do hate how many more visitors we have at the safehouse. I feel almost useless amidst the coming and going of men and women who apparently do good work or something. It’s mid-morning and I’m going to try to pitch an idea to Marlene…..again. 

“So,” I say as I sip some nasty coffee, “you seem good, huh?” 

“What?” Marlene barely glances my way; she’s deep into studying a map. 

“Like, you seem in a good enough mood to take on a suggestion.” 

“Goodness, Maya. What is it?” 

Not a bad start. 

“Well, I don’t know what you need to like make the Fireflies better and all. However, you know how sneaky and well-equipped I am, and—“ 

“No, Maya.” 

“I did not finish, actually.” 

“You did. You’re not doing anything besides staying here and helping Stevie take care of Ellie.”  

“And that’s fun and all! But…” 

She looks up at me with an unamused stare. 

“Maya, I cannot lose you too,” 

Oh. 

“Or deal with the headache of putting you on a team.” 

Ah. 

“Wow. So touching.” I take another sip. Still gross.  

“I’m serious.” She puts down her pencil. “We have plenty of people who are willing to put aside their lives for our mission. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger with all you have to at stake.” 

“I—“ 

Dang. I hate when she makes good points. Or more so, I hate the fact that she has that point to make.  

“I love Ellie, and I want to take care of her. I want to protect her. Wouldn’t being a part of this help her? Help her have a life outside of hiding? Outside FEDRA? Plus, I’m not the only one with someone to take care of. I’m not so special.” 

Marlene pauses. She pushes back some papers. I can tell this means she’s actually listening to me.  

“Maya.” She sighs. “I agree with you. I agree that you should be a part of this and help build a better future for Ellie. I do not, however, want to throw you into danger.” 

She cuts me off before I can retort. “So, let’s do this. You can stay here in the safehouse and help me and the others strategize. You can see what all this encompasses. You can see men and women walk through that door after a mission with a broken leg, a broken rib, a missing partner. You can see the reality of this.” 

I chew the inside of my lip and start to taste metal. I look back up at Marlene, as she gazes at me with a severe face of worry mixed with care; a parent giving their child a task they know will challenge them but will show them the reality of life. I don’t like how I see her as a parent. 

“You make a hard bargain, ma’am, but I must comply.” 

She’s unamused. 

“Okay, sounds good. Thanks,” I say, cringing inside.  

So, the afternoon comes, and she calls me into the kitchen to listen in on a meeting. I’m sitting in the corner on a wobbly bar stool. Grif walks in, seeing me out of his peripheral.  

“Howdy, lil’ terrorist.” 

“Howdy, humongous terrorist.” I pretend to tip a hat. 

“Cut it,” Marlene snaps.  

We both hold in laughter. This will be fun.  

People begin to enter, some of them in pairs and some of them alone. It’s a mixed bag of individuals: about 10 of them. Most of them are men, but all of them look rough.  

“Let’s get started, people,” Marlene calls out. 

Everyone quickly hushes and directs their attention to her. 

“Let’s get this straight. The demonstrations are strictly demonstrations, not riots. Yesterday exemplifies why I feel the need to clarify this…again. Joseph,” she turns to a 30-something-year-old man with very round eyes (he looks like if a pug was a person), “I’m sorry about Andrea.” He nods in quiet thankfulness. Oh gosh, maybe he has pug-like eyes cause he’s been crying? Was Andrea his wife? Oh shoot, I’m a terrible person. 

“Despite this, we are seeing success with our paths through the border and some morale within the QZ—“ 

“Heh ha!” Everyone shifts their attention to me. Me and my awful, snorty laugh and my little wobbly bar stool.  

“Sorry,” I say, my face is definitely red. Just the thought of “morale” inside the QZ made me laugh…I’m sure she just means people are scowling less.  

Marlene doesn’t skip a beat. “So, we are going to keep doing what we’re doing, except for a couple of you. I need a few people to meet up with an individual who I know for a fact has major connections. These connections will bridge a source to supplies. I would give you more details as usual, but in order for this deal to be done, the other party needs anonymity.” 

A couple of people scoff or make faces of disapproval.  

“I know, I know,” she says with calming gestures. “It sounds stupid, but I need your trust. Who is willing to give me that?” 

The silence rests heavily. Honestly, I would not volunteer even if she let me. This is not typical Marlene behavior, which means this job in particular is either really important or someone outsmarted her.  

“I’m in.” 

A voice speaks up, and it’s oddly familiar. I look over to match Marlene’s gaze. 

“Thank you, Tommy.” She smiles.  

“You, Grif?” Tommy raises an eyebrow at the largest man in the room. 

“Oh, well, I figured my inclusion was implied?”  

The group chuckles, and for a moment, something seemed normal. So normal that it felt weird, like the uneasy moment before a terrible accident. And Tommy – well, I finally see his face fully. He comes to the house every so often to check in with Marlene, but I have never really met him or seen him up close. He’s tall and well-built, with messy black hair and facial hair. He’s wearing dirty jeans and a flannel over an even dirtier shirt. We all seem like cartoon characters, wearing the same thing every day. Tommy looks like the main character of an action movie; a normal guy who discovers he has superpowers and goes on to save something or someone or yada yada. Anyways, he looks nice.  

“I’ll go along, I guess, to keep these hippies in line,” another voice says, catching my attention.  

It’s Mel, a regular visitor of the safehouse who’s around sixty and is a pretty cool dude.  

“Alright. Thank you, Mel. I would send some of my guys with you, but the nature of the job will make more people more of a hassle.”  

The meeting seems to go on forever. The first bit was the only part worth listening in on, but I couldn’t escape the kitchen without shoving my way past a handful of grimy Fireflies. I really don’t know if Marlene has a showering protocol, but she should add one.  

6 – A Barn 

An hour later and the kitchen is finally clear of strangers, so Stevie and Ellie come down to get some fresh air and food. Marlene’s super-secret-mission volunteers remain in the house, talking with serious tones in the living room. Stevie and I sit on the porch, Ellie lays on a mat with some makeshift toys.  

“Do you have any idea what Mar’s mission is for the supplies? Like, she was super vague about it during the meeting.” 

“So, it wasn’t all you hoped it to be? Firefly business.” 

“Well, kind of. I know I shouldn’t complain of boredom because we could be running for our lives from infected right now, but it’s so dull!” 

“Yep! I tried to listen in, too. It just goes over my head, honestly.” 

Stevie looks down with the last sentence. I can’t tell if it’s out of some shame or because the sun is in our eyes.  

“I think you were born to help other people. But not through fighting or politics. Through caring for and healing others. You look after us all.” 

“Thanks.” She smiles. “We all have a special role to play in life, and each one is integral to the whole. I’m glad I can live out my role in some way…even in this world.” 

I hear footsteps from behind, and as I turn, Tommy walks out to the porch. He closes the screen door softly, looking at Ellie with a smile.  

He looks up at us, “She’s real cute.” 

“Yeah. But she bites.” 

“Maya!” Stevie starts laughing. 

“Oh, wow,” Tommy holds his hands up in surrender, still looking down at Ellie, “I ain’t no communist, ma’am.” 

“’Cause that’s the biggest threat.” Stevie snorts. 

We all snicker. Again, it feels like normality. After every casual conversation, my heart pounds, waiting for the monster to jump out from around the corner, because my happiness distracted me. Tommy nods at us with a smile and hops off the porch, heading toward the barn to the right of the house. Stevie and I watch him as he goes. 

“That’s a fine man right there.” 

“Oh my gosh!” I bust out laughing, again. 

“What!? It’s true, Maya!” 

“I mean….” She raises an eyebrow at me. “Yeah, okay you’re right.” 

Stevie and I enjoy our porch time for a while longer, but the pollen starts to get to us. So, we head inside. I get Ellie ready for a nap a little earlier than usual. It’s okay because Stevie is in the room across the hall, and I’ll be right back. I pop my head into the room where she’s reading by the window. 

“Hey! Ellie’s napping, and I’m going downstairs for a hot minute. Just so you know.” 

“Okay,” she nods with a smile. 

I head downstairs and take a quick look around the common room on my way to the kitchen. Smooth, I think. Everyone but Tommy is inside. He must still be in the barn. I go into the utility room connected to the kitchen and quietly out the back door. I’ve only ever been in the barn a handful of times. I hated it every time though. It’s a hot spot for bugs to lurk and randomly fall on you. It’s nasty.  

After a brief moment of hyping myself up, I gingerly open the barn door. To my great displeasure, I’m greeted by the squeakiest door sound I’ve ever encountered.  

“Frick!” I whisper. 

“Hi.” 

I look up and there he is. 

“Oh, hi.” I give my best smile, meaning it’s the fakest smile imaginable.  

“You need anything?” 

“Uhhh.” I look around at the piles of supplies, all sorted and protected against the elements. He’s been busy. 

“I actually don’t know what I’m looking for…” I say this absolute falsity with a rise in my tone; a dead giveaway that I’m lying. 

“Um, well does-“ 

“Are you southern?” I ask. Oh my gosh, I want to dissolve right now. 

“I-. Uh, yes I am.” He chuckles. “Did the accent give it away?” 

“Yeah. I mean! Well, yes it did.” Someone kill me. 

“Well, you’d be correct. I’m from Texas.” He smiles the curtesy smile you throw at people you make eye contact with on the street. 

“Okay.” I attempt to reset myself. “I actually wanted to ask you something. I don’t need anything. Marlene would kill me if I touched anything in here.” I close the door behind me.  

He raises his eyebrows and folds his arms, but in an intrigued way. So, I continue. 

“You volunteered for that job. The one she won’t really give details about. I don’t know if you know how Marlene is, but she always gives a good amount of detail about things. I’m just unsure if she told you guys more about it.” 

“And you need to know?” 

“Oh. Uh, yes actually. I’m, what you’d call a concerned party.” Maybe being sarcastic will help me return to my former glory of chill? 

“Right.” He looks amused, but not willing to tell me squat. 

“C’mon, man. Marlene is the only reason I’m alive right now.” This is kind of an overstatement, but it’ll do the job. “I’ll admit I’m a little paranoid about all this Firefly stuff and I’d like a little peace of mind that her plan isn’t stupid or something.” 

“Don’t you trust her?” He asks genuinely. 

“I do. I don’t always agree with her. But I trust her intentions and her strength, a lot. I just don’t trust that the world is not bigger or badder than her.” I pause. “I know badder isn’t a word, just by the way.” 

He looks at me silently. A little longer than I’d like because I start to notice his deep brown eyes and his arms.  

“I don’t know why I trust her. She doesn’t always make sense to me. But, I’m not goin’ back to where I was before her. I’m with you on that feeling. Like,” he lingers, “the world will crumble if you step outside of the light from her torch.” 

“Yeah.” I’m distant now. Thinking about everything he said and starting to feel emotions rumble in my throat. I push them down. 

“So, Tommy. Do you know anything? Does this mission sound too compromising?” 

He sighs, “Listen Maya—“ 

“You know my name?’ I butt in. 

“Yes, you’re always here. I’ve been around for months, ya’ know.” 

“Yeah I know I know. We just haven’t met properly, so…” 

“No, I get you.” 

“Proceed, sorry.” I move over to a post and sit on it, focusing on the space between his eyes to distract myself from Stevie’s voice in my head calling him fine. 

“Well, I don’t know much I admit. I know we’re leaving at sunrise tomorrow and headed to a mid-point between the border and the closer safehouse. The old one that no one stays at. We’re meeting a lady who might have some info on people farther out from the city. People who have some sort of fortress. Marlene wants to create connections. Relationships. She’s not asking for anything from anyone. She just wants good favor with people. And you know how important information can be in and of itself.” 

“Right.” 

“It’ll be short and doesn’t sound too dangerous either. It’s just infected we might have to be concerned about.” 

“Why’d she ask for volunteers? Would she have let Pug-Man go? He just joined us not long after you. Like, it’s weird to me.” 

“Pug-Man?” 

“Oh. It’s the guy who-. You know, don’t worry about it.” 

“No. I wanna know who Pug-Man is!” 

“No! I misspoke” 

“Come on!” He laughs. 

“No! I have to set an example for a child!” I protest dramatically, but my face is lit up with a smile.  

“Is it Ron?” 

“No.” 

“So, Steve?” 

“I will not confirm or deny anyone.” I push my face up. This is the battle of wits and sarcasm I love. 

“Oh, it’s got to be…Oh! I know! It’s Joseph!” 

I close my eyes and cross my arms, trying not to burst out laughing. 

“It is! It is! I knew it!” 

“I have neither confirmed nor denied!!” I say in a snobbish accent.  

“But you know why I know, huh?” He says, eyes bright. 

“Why?” I ask, with a guise of disinterest. 

“He really does look like one. And to make it worse, I met him during a job where we got attacked by a big dog, and he looked so scared after. His eyes were bulging so bad I thought they’d pop!” Tommy had a big grin on his face.  

“What the heck!?” I laugh now. A long laugh. And Tommy joins. We laugh and laugh, with teary eyes.  

“My stomach!” I hold my side, almost falling off the post while Tommy lowers himself the floor, giving up on trying to keep his balance. 

He wipes tears from his eyes, and rests his arms on his legs, “Ohhh my goodness! I don’t remember laughing hurtin’ so much.” 

I catch my breath. “Yeah, everything’s got to feel a certain way I guess.” 

He looks up at me, and I fold my hands together on my legs, leaning on the post and forgetting how to engage in conversation. But he says what I think. 

“I honestly don’t remember what I was saying or what you were sayin’. I’m worn out, dang!” He stares off, still a smile on his face.  

Written by: Kayla Harper

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Nameless

Chapter 1 

“Come home!” the woman demanded as her hand gripped my wrist, attempting to pull me off the bridge. The place she ignorantly labeled as home restricted any sound produced from my lips. There, I slumbered in the closet to remain unseen from the public eye. A small, miscalculated movement garnered severe punishment. On every window and wall supporting that house, I often imagined steel bars, the only thing that the prison lacked.  

“Hand over our daughter!” the woman’s husband screamed in Atlas’ face. As he turned to me, I tugged my wrist out of the woman’s claws and returned to the center of the bridge. I clutched my wrist as it throbbed. Atlas stood two heads taller than the couple and planted himself between us. “How dare you join a village in war! At home, you’re safe away from all this conflict,” they repeated. I remained silent, but they refused to stand by while the property stolen from them walked away. The couple dashed behind Atlas and reached out their hands to get any hold on me. However, Evander pulled my hood from the other end of the bridge. My body dropped into Eleni’s arms, as Dimitris and Colin forcefully pushed the couple away.  

Eleni propped me up and gently took my hand. We followed Evander away from the commotion at the bridge. When my head tugged back, I saw Ajax dragging the aggressors away from the bridge. “They are right, you know. If you go with them, you won’t get slaughtered with us.” I kept silent as I responded with a simple nod. My prison escape succeeded, and the three of us peacefully returned to my true home. 

The first time I escaped from my birthplace, I ran until I hit a sign on a stone wall that bordered a beautiful pasture. “Welcome to Aigaion!” the sign celebrated. Outside stood two guards laughing with each other until they spotted my stunted frame shivering. Before I fled, they approached me with concern written on their faces. “Where are your parents?” they interrogated. A word never left my lips, yet the taller one, Dimitris, hauled a stool over and propped it up in front of their station.  

“You can sit here if you like,” the other guard, Colin, added. Eventually, I accepted after standing at a distance for a while. They tried to involve me in their conversation, but I stayed silent. When the sun dimmed orange, Colin brought food for the three of us. They placed a soft round loaf in my hands. I sunk my teeth into the freshest bread I had ever eaten as they continued to discuss the matters of Aigaion.  

“Rumor is negotiations aren’t going so well,” Colin stated.  

“There are no negotiations to be made,” Dimitris replied sternly. “Dodasa’s insane, if they think heavily overstepping like this is acceptable.”  

The two of them briefly glanced at me as I scarfed down their gift.  

“Time for you to go home, little one. Our shift’s over now.” Dimitris informed as he gestured for me to get up. Colin grabbed the stool and the two of them disappeared inside the walls. I dared not follow them then, but the next time I tumbled into those pristine cream stones, they invited me inside. Each building faced inward and welcomed passersby through their doors. Dimitris and Colin continued their conversations as I followed behind them.  

“War? Where are you hearing these ridiculous rumors? I refuse to believe Ajax suggested that,” Dimitris scoffed. 

“He did not suggest it. Dodasa declared war on us! It’s official news,” Colin clarified.  

Their words reached my ears, but the lush beauty of the meadow which Aigaion sat on stole my focus. The buildings never intruded on the rich nature that the villagers cultivated inside their walls. Still, time barely passed before I met Ajax. An intimidating man with a foreboding presence interrupted the guard’s conversation. “Who’s this girl with you?” he inquired, pointing to me. 

“No clue, sir.” Colin answered. 

“She may be mute,” Dimitris jested.  

Ajax kneeled next to me and asked, “What’s your name, child?” 

I just shook my head in response.  

Ajax chuckled. Then, he extended his hand and properly introduced himself, “Welcome to my Aigaion! Enjoy your stay; just don’t make trouble, you hear?” I shook his hand and enthusiastically nodded. Soon everyone knew of me. The time between my visits grew shorter and shorter. No one in the village yelled at me to go away, and some even gave me spare items to make toys out of. They fed me, sometimes clothed me. Best of all they gave me a name. 

“Hera!” Evander proudly announced, while sharpening a sword. 
“Hera?” I questioned. 

Evander, the blacksmith, shocked, replied to my first words, “Do you like it? It kills me that no one refers to you by name. Even if it’s not your real name, can I call you Hera?” 

“Mhmm.” I nodded as I tried to forge a sword like him.  

On the days I sneaked off to that beautiful pasture, I tinkered with my stash of objects at Evander’s establishment, then watched over Dimitris and Colin as they joined the rest of the warriors to train with Ajax. Occasionally, I ran down to them with the sword I made and insisted on inclusion. “I can do that too!” I shouted. 

“Hera, this is very important. We need to prepare and not be distracted. Please go back to Evander for the day,” Ajax pleaded.   

The last time I appeared at Aigaion’s gate, the skin around my eye turned black and swollen. Dried blood stained my shirt. I shivered again. Before I entered, I composed myself and made sure no trace of tears imprinted my face. I never knew when returning to the village would end, so I made the most of every day. I walked up to the gate and smiled. “Hi Colin! Where’s Dimitris?” 

“Woah! Are you okay?” Colin reacted.  

“I’m fine, as always,” I replied. 

He knelt in front of me and asked, “Did a bully get you again?” 

I nodded yes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 
I shook my head no.  

Eventually, Colin could not ignore it. Again, I cleaned up as best I could, but the confrontation from the night prior violently painted itself on my canvas. That day progressed with a greater amount of interrogation, “What happened? Who did this to you? Why won’t you say anything?” I grew quiet like before. Colin asked Dimitris to escort me home safely. Dimitris accompanied me home despite my insistence that he return. When we arrived, I asked him to stand a decent distance away from the house. He watched as I crawled into the back window and remained silent. The next time I approached them Colin exclaimed, “Stay with us!” 

Dimitris interjected, “Idiot, she’s better off not involved with our conflict.”  

“I’d like to,” I replied with my eyes shining at them. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Dimitris continued. “All of us could be gone tomorrow.” 

“She’s just a child!” Colin expressed. 

“She’s old enough to make an informed decision!” Dimitris shouted. 

He knelt next to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and looked me in the eye. “Dodasa’s coming any day now to take our land. You should not get involved in that stupid mess, but…” He resumed. “But it’s your choice, kid. We’ll stand by whatever you decide. However, know that Aigaion could be gone the next time you visit, and you’d be safe.” 

“I understand,” I affirmed. 

The day I joined Aigaion could never be described as pretty. The homeowner of my previous residence bent my nose in as I tried to leave. Both the adults ran after me as I crossed the river to Aigaion. After the altercation, Evander’s wife, Eleni, attended to my wounds as usual, except this was the last time she would treat me for insignificant black eyes. After she finished, I went and played with Helios, Evander’s new son. We shared a room, and I assisted in any way I could, to show my gratefulness to Evander and Eleni.  

In my new home, I beamed. I brought Helios with me everywhere. I made toys for him out of my tinker box. Together, the four of us, Evander, Eleni, Helios, and I, ate dinner every night, where I got time to show Evander everything I made that day. Since living in the village, I did everything I could to help. I repaired flower beds, installed new door hinges, entertained the little ones, and tried to give advice to Colin and Dimitris’s training. However, Ajax often had to pull me away for being “distracting.” I wanted my home to stand strong.  

As I observed it every day, it surprised me how tight-knit and friendly Aigaion seemed, since two thirds of the population formed the militia. My life completely flipped after finding my home. They gave me a name. They welcomed me. They allowed me to lay peacefully in the flower fields without worry of being yelled at. They provided me freedom to pursue inventing and improve the village with my ideas. Colin and Dimitris often helped find places for my inventions to shine throughout the village. Then, I would explain how they worked to Helios even though he could not form words. They valued me. A stupid war could not make me lose that.  

Unfortunately, that day came. The modified horns I installed sounded louder than ever before, and all the women and children fled to the central hall, except for me. Despite Ajax screaming at me to go with them, I grabbed my sword and followed Colin to the gate. Dimitris waited for Colin there, and he prevented me from going further. I was no match for him, and Evander dragged me with them to safety. Eleni watched over me with hawk eyes and attempted to distract me by playing games with Helios. Evander periodically left the hall and returned with whispers he only gave to the elders.  

The door opened again slowly, as Evander fell to the floor forming a puddle of tears. “We lost,” he whispered. I charged for the gate. Eleni chased after me leaving Helios screaming in tears. She begged me to stay put. She could not stop me. Upon opening the gate, my eyes met the corpses of Colin, Dimitris, Ajax, and the rest of my friends.

Written By: Rachel Caña

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All the World’s a Stage

PROLOGUE

Power demands sacrifice.  

Sacrifice demands power.  

And at the end of the day, she was just a girl, and he was just a boy. The moon and the sun.  

And a vast expanse of stars between them. 

PART 1 

Kandor 

The Lower Court 

Kandor trudged through the dark, swampy nightmare of the forest. He was used to the dark, obviously, but in the middle of the woods, caged in on every side by trees and strange animals who wanted him dead, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit afraid.  

His faithful dog, Sassa, walked beside him. Her constant, panting breath soothed him, but even then, Kandor found himself speaking aloud to her when the darkness began to feel as if it pressed down on him.  

“Bad night for hunting, isn’t it, girl?” he murmured, resting his hand on Sassa’s soft head. She licked his hand, and then kept licking, no doubt cleaning off any remaining evidence of the rabbit he had roasted earlier. Kandor chuckled, wiping his hand on his shirt. “You little freeloader.”  

Sassa wagged her tail cheerfully. Yup. That’s me.  

They kept walking, Kandor keeping his fingers lightly on Sassa’s head. Soon, he knew, he would have to give up. He peered up at the dark sky, just barely making out the sliver of the moon. Tomorrow, there would be no moon. He gritted his teeth. No moon meant no light at all. And he hadn’t caught anything to tide them over. Stars confound it.  

Kandor was just about to head home—it was starting to rain and both he and Sassa shivered—when something caught his eye. Sassa noticed it too, for her ears pricked up and she gave a short bark, under her breath. Even she knew not to scare away potential game.  

Kandor removed his hand from her head, her signal to go, and she took off, her big feet expertly landing with such softness Kandor could barely hear them. He jogged after her, knowing Sassa would hold the creature there until he reached them.  

Most people weren’t so lucky. They had to hunt on their own. Kandor had found Sassa when she was just a baby, nursing a broken leg, caught in another hunter’s traps. Kandor freed her, took care of her, and then kept her, the two of them bound by some unspoken oath that turned into love. His mother had been less than thrilled—“Kandor, she’s just one more mouth to feed”—but Sassa, sensing how badly she was needed, starting showing up at their back door with rabbits and squirrels, no doubt slain by the creatures of the wood. Kandor had originally thought the dog killed them, but after witnessing Sassa’s hunting prowess firsthand, he knew she never killed for food. Her tracking skills remained unmatched, however, and the two of them made an excellent team, Sassa sniffing out prey and keeping them in place, Kandor making the final kill. He always positioned himself between Sassa and her prize, never wanting her to see the blow that would kill them.  

The first time he killed an animal, he had thrown up. The second time, he cried. The third time, he took a deep breath and got to work skinning it, because this was food for his family, and stars take him, he was not going to be the one responsible for his little sister starving to death. 

Amily. His pride and joy. When their father died, Kandor stepped up to help his mother raise her. Fifteen years younger than he, little Amily was a surprise to everyone. At just fifteen himself, Kandor knew nothing about raising a child, but when his mother died the following year, he found himself the sole provider for a one-year-old baby girl, a stray dog with a limp, and himself. Amily was five now, and he hated leaving her alone, but he couldn’t bring a virtual toddler with him to hunt. His best friend, Juna, and his wife Hadassy, usually took care of her during the day, and in exchange, Kandor would give him a third of his game. It worked out well; Amily adored Juna and Kandor kept them all fed.  

Kandor worked a real job, of course. Technically. The same job his father had, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father. “Protector of the Sanctioned,” they called it. Most people just called him the Handler. The Lower Court had been waiting on the so-called “Sanctioned” for years. Kandor had no faith that she would come while he was the Handler.  

His official job description read, “Protector, mentor, and guide for the Sanctioned of the Light, the willing, able, and chosen sacrifice set aside to appease the tyranny of the High Court in exchange for their sun’s light and warmth.”  

Kandor shivered. Light and warmth, indeed. 

Realistically, he knew that “light and warmth” meant that the overlords of the High Court, that glittering, celestial city in the sky, allowed them to dwell on the lands of the Lower Court, the light of the sun above providing moonlight below. He also knew that his job title mandated that if the “Sanctioned” were to appear, the sacrifice to keep the High Court appeased, he would have to drop everything and prepare her for her service to the celestial realm.  

The service was her life, of course. The Handlers had to be ready to guide the Sanctioned every step of the way, right up until the ritual killing that supposedly placated their overlords.  

Kandor’s father never groomed a Sanctioned, and neither had his father. Word on the street said that his great-grandfather was the last one to prep a Sanctioned for sacrifice. Kandor knew that the Lower Court would appoint one when they saw fit, but as years turned to decades, he felt less and less inclined to think that he would be the next one to take up the mantle. 

Kandor picked up the pace when he realized Sassa had run out of his line of vision. When he finally caught up with her, he paused, surveying her catch with both confusion and irritation.  

Sassa hadn’t found an animal at all, but a white marble statue of a girl, almost phosphorescent in the snip of moonlight. Stars confound it, Sassa, Kandor thought, but he would never scold her like that out loud. Besides, it was an honest mistake. The statue looked almost human, perfectly clean and sculpted. Kandor might have been fooled if she—it—wasn’t clearly carved out of the finest marble he had ever seen.  

What on earth was a statue doing in the middle of the woods? He was positive he had been in this sector of the forest many times, and he surely had never seen it before. Had someone left it? Refugees, perhaps? The creatures of the wood rarely attacked humans, but in recent years they had grown more and more restless, and some of the deep wood’s inhabitants had fled for more urban areas, leaving most of their things behind.  

“Good girl, Sassa,” Kandor murmured, resting his hand on her head in thanks. He reached the statue, wondering who in their right mind would try to haul a marble statue through the woods before they got their wits about them and left it.  

One good thing though, he mused, running his fingers along the statue’s arm, he could sell it and make himself and Amily quite a bit of— 

The cold stone underneath his fingers suddenly turned warm and pliable. He yanked his hand back, staring at the marble in confusion. You’re dreaming this, he told himself.  

Because there was no way. Truly no way he was seeing this right now.  

Sassa barked.  

Kandor watched the life breathe into the statue, watched the cold, unfeeling marble transform into the living, breathing flesh of a girl.  

The girl turned her head to look at him, her blue eyes piercing through his very soul.  

“Where am I?” she asked, and her voice was celestial and sparkling and a million other things, and Kandor didn’t answer for a moment, only moving when her legs gave out and she collapsed onto the forest floor.  

Written by: Caroline Johnson

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CT-6983

The first thing he saw were blaring white lights and a square patterned ceiling. Beneath him lay a hard, cold metal table covered in a sheet as a guise of comfort. It was a standard medical bay, one designed for clones, made to be simple, sterile, and efficient.

“How are you doing there, Scratch?” 

Hearing his name, Scratch looked up to see a face identical to his, looking down at him. Tan skin, cropped black hair, a prominent nose, and a helmet tucked under his arm. Though his features were remarkably similar, Scratch had come to pick out the subtle differences in each of his clone brother’s faces. While impossible to notice at first, the trooper’s right eye held a slight squint to it. Since birth, it had never been quite as open as the left. The tiniest defect had become his commander’s key feature. 

“It’s good to see you, Commander Shadow,” Scratch answered, itching at the thin line drawn from the corner of his mouth to his ear. His scar, no larger than the line of loath cat’s scratch, had been the trait for which he was named by his brothers. “Looks like I’m in the med bay again. What idiotic mistake did I make to earn myself a stay here?” 

Commander Shadow laughed. “You saved our operation, that’s what you did. But in the process you got a bit banged up by the Hydroid Medusa we were trying to disarm. Biological weapons like that are real terrors. I’m just thankful all you received was a bump on the head and a brief nap.” 

“That’s it, huh? Then I guess I’m cleared for duty.” 

“Incorrect,” a medical droid declared in a pre-recorded, monotone voice as it rolled over to his bedside. “CT-6983 has not been cleared for active duty. He sustained an injury to the head and must be kept for a brain scan.” 

“I’m afraid we don’t have time for that,” Commander Shadow replied. “We just received another mission. The galaxy is in a state of high tension currently, and new battlegrounds between the Separatists and the Republic are breaking out every day. Some are saying the war is nearing its end, and if that’s true, we need to be doing our part to finish it.” 

“If CT-6983 leaves, he will be going against medical recommendation.” Came the droid’s automatic reply. 

“Do you feel well enough, Scratch?” Commander Shadow asked, a knowing look in his eye. They had spent their entire lives together and knew each other’s actions by heart. He didn’t have to ask to know how Scratch would respond. 

“Yep, let’s go.” 

“CT-6983 is scheduled for a brain scan in room 21B in an hour…” the medical droid started, but Scratch was already donning his armor. A small sense of pride glowed in his heart as he studied the gray plates, each designed to be a little different from a regular trooper’s armor. The design was sleeker and lighter, and the coloring helped him blend into the shadows. That was after all, what a stealth trooper was created for. Blending in, acting behind the scenes, and striking quickly to take down entire operations without notice. 

Scratch smiled just a hair as he noticed his armor had been cleaned since their last operation. He had reason to suspect that one of his brothers had done it themselves. Perhaps another member of his squad decided to help out in silent appreciation. Reme or Shade would be the most likely candidates. They’d been stealth troopers before Scratch had earned the pale blue markings of lieutenant on his armor. Though he was younger than the two of them, he had garnered their full respect, and they cared for one another like what Scratch assumed a family would. 

“I’m glad you’re up for the mission. I don’t know what I would have done without my second in command.” Commander Shadow spoke the closest thing to a compliment Scratch had heard from him in a long time. As he and Scratch left the medbay, winding their way through the uniform corridors of a Republic light cruiser, his commander began detailing their mission to come. “Our next mission is an odd one. We’ll be paired with Jedi master Ja-feri and his Padawan Luline Dumi on a scouting mission to the outer rim territory of Sy Myrth. Apparently, it’s Padawan Dumi’s first mission, so try not to give the kid too hard a time.”   

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Scratch replied sarcastically, planning on messing with the kid anyhow. Suddenly, he felt a tug on the back of his head as his helmet was mysteriously pulled off. The force of it gave him whiplash and left his head spinning as he stumbled around to see the grinning face of a small, green Twi’lek behind him. His helmet drifted into the girl’s hands, suspended in the air by the force. 

“If you’re going to mess with me, you better be prepared for me to do the same,” she laughed, only to receive a disapproving frown from her master as he rounded the corner. 

“Luline, what have I told you about using the force for tricks?” Master Ja-feri, a tall, graying Lassat asked, his cat-like eyes narrowing in on his apprentice. 

Luline suddenly appeared quite interested in the shine of her boots. “I’m sorry, Master,” she mumbled, her eyes slowly rising to meet those of Scratch as she extended his helmet to him. “Here’s your helmet, Lieutenant.” 

“You can call me Scratch,” he winked, taking his helmet back, “I like someone who’s got a sense of humor. I think you and I could be good friends.” 

“I would like that.” Luline giggled, happily running ahead of the clones. “Come on, I’ll show you to our ship!” 

Scratch matched the young Twi’lek’s fast pace, surprised by how effortlessly quick she moved on her feet. As he followed her, a certain heaviness sunk into his heart. This was her first mission, and despite knowing she had likely trained for war her whole life at the Jedi temple, there was something different about experiencing it for the first time. Though this was only supposed to be a simple scouting mission, one could never be certain what types of risks a mission could entail. There was always danger, and if this mission were to be anything like his first one…anything could happen. 

Scratch recalled the sounds of blaster fire, and it felt as if the shots were still ringing out in the back of his mind. The memory brought a series of battle scars with it, as he remembered a red flare of pain striking the back of his leg. The pain caused him to stumble and fall as his helmet flew off his head, and a rock cut into the side of his face, drawing a permanent scratch from his lip to his ear. His first mission gave him his nickname, but it also taught him how painfully ill-prepared he was for the realities of war. 

He didn’t want that for Luline, or anyone for that matter. But he was a clone, not a senator. He held no say in such matters. His fate, like the fate of Luline, had been decided for them the day he was born a clone, and she a Jedi. 

At last, Luline lead them to the fourth docking bay where a VCX-100 light freighter waited for them. It was painted with the red symbol of the republic on the door and lined with red and gray stripes along the wings. Two clones stood outside waiting with sly grins on their faces, Reme and Shade, the last two troopers in his unit. 

“Look who’s back!” Reme called out to Scratch, slapping a hand on his back. “Did you have a good nap, or did the medroid wake you up?” 

“I slept just fine, thank you.” Scratch laughed. “I’m glad to see you guys missed me.”
“I didn’t miss you,” Shade grumbled, messing with his fluffy black hair that certainly grew out past regulation standards. “I hoped you’d be out longer so I could use your blaster. The safety on yours doesn’t get stuck like mine.” He huffed, but Scratch could see right through him, he only pretended not to care. 

He wasn’t the only one who saw through Shade’s cold demeanor. Luline watched the clones with happy wonder. “I hope I have friends as good as you guys someday,” she whispered to Scratch once they boarded the ship. She took a seat next to him in the cockpit and strapped herself into the chair, double checking to make sure the seat-belt was tight before continuing. “Master Ja-feri says that attachments are not good. He says they are burdens we place on ourselves. But I think that living a life without anyone to care about sounds lonely.” 

“I agree with you, kid. You need friends to both laugh with and watch your back.” Scratch nodded, but quieted himself when Master Ja-feri boarded the ship, the two of them falling in line like children caught sharing secrets in the dark. 

“Everything alright?” Master Ja-feri asked, taking a seat next to his Padawan. 

“Yes sir,” Scratch answered a little too quickly. “We’re prepared for takeoff.” 

*** 

It wasn’t long before the troop landed on Sy Myrth. Dust stirred in the air as the ship touched down, fogging up the windshield and coating the whole ship in a thin layer of yellow sand. The outer rim planet, a little known location that fell under the territory of the Hutts, currently held allegiance to the Separatists, protecting their resources with battle droids.   

“We made it.” Luline grinned, anxiously crowding the dirtied window for a chance to look out upon the desert planet. 

“We have,” Master Ja-feri confirmed, gently taking his Padawan’s hand in one of his fluffy claws and pulling her away from the window to meet with the clones who had gathered in the aircraft’s cockpit. “Listen closely, everyone; these are the mission details. We are to explore and observe the residence of former senator Toonbuck Toora who recently fled to this system after being accused of participating in illegal spice trade.” 

“Sounds simple enough,” Commander Shadow replied. “I would advise we split into two groups to avoid detection, with one Jedi and two clones per group. Scratch, you and Luline seem to have taken a liking to one another. I’ll trust you to lead a team with her and Shade. I’ll travel with Master Ja-feri and Reme.”  

“We’ll communicate via comm, everyone stay attentive, listen for orders, and report in if you see any sign of trouble. Especially you, Luline,” Master Ja-feri instructed before lowering the hatch to the ship and following the entrance ramp down to the sandy ground below, his Padawan close beside him. 

“Master, I don’t want to leave you,” Luline whispered to him in confidence before the groups split. 

Overhearing her words, Scratch appeared at her side and gave the girl a small pat on the head. “You don’t have anything to worry about, kiddo. You’ve got me watching your back while your master is gone.” 

“And you’ve got me watching Scratch to make sure he doesn’t come back with any more scratches than he already has.” Shade teased, earning a small bout of giggles from the Padawan and an angry glare from his Lieutenant.

The two parties trekked through sand and strom for several miles, resting on the dunes and using them as cover as they made their approach. Just as the pointed spires of Toonbuck Toora’s residence appeared on the horizon, a blue indicator light flashed in the corner of Scratch’s vision. 

“Incoming transmission,” Shade said aloud, apparently seeing the indicator light too, before following through and listening to it. 

A gravelly voice sounded in Scratch’s helmet as the transition came through. He recognized it instantly as not belonging to any of his party’s members, but to that of Chancellor Palpatine. “Execute order 66…” 

“Something’s wrong,” Luline whispered before the transmission in Scratch’s helmet even concluded, her deep connection to the force alerting her before anything even happened. She unsheathed her blade, her emerald green lightsaber’s light cutting through the monochromatic color of the surrounding sands. 

For an instant, it felt like time stopped. Scratch’s head spun with the message he’d just received. Order 66 branded all Jedi traitors to the Republic and called for their execution. How could this be possible? Like them, the Jedi were only following orders… 

 Shade raised his blaster. With what could only be described as mindless mechanics, he pivoted to face Luline. 

“No!” Scratch reached for his brother, attempting to pull the blaster from his hands. 

Click.  

The blaster should have fired. But it seemed the Force was with them more than they knew. The faulty safety had gotten stuck yet again on Shade’s weapon, and Scratch was able to pull the blaster from his hands. 

“What do you think you’re doing? Stand down, soldier!” Scratch ordered as Shade dove for his blaster. 

“I’m following orders,” Shade answered, his voice distant and removed. But all Scratch could stand to think was that this wasn’t like him. Something had come over his brother, his movements were mechanical, his eyes focused only on the blaster Scratch held, so intent on doing one thing. He was programmed, just like a droid. 

“What are you waiting for?” Shade yelled. “You have to follow orders, Lieutenant! I’m on your side! We’re brothers! Give me the blaster and let’s finish this together.”

 “If we were brothers, you would have called me by my name,” Scratch whispered, flicking a switch on the blaster and setting it to stun. “Don’t do this, Shade. It’s all in your head. We don’t have to follow that order…Luline is only a padawan. We can’t kill her. This has to be a misunderstanding.” 

“If you support the Jedi, you’ll be branded a traitor too,” Shade replied coldly. “Which means I need to do what has to be done!” He called before diving for the blaster in Scratch’s hands one last time, before Luline reached forward with the Force and pushed him into a sand dune. 

With tears in his eyes, Scratch raised the blaster and stunned his brother. As Shade’s body sank into the sand, unconscious, Scratch kneeled next to him. Hands shaking, he removed the helmet from Shade’s face. “What happened to you?” he whispered, emotion swelling inside his chest. The Shade he knew would never do this. Sure he was cold, aloof, and a tease…but he would never, ever, attempt to harm a child. 

A hand on his shoulder surprised him, and he found Luline at his side. Her lightsaber was sheathed and she appeared surprisingly calm. “You protected me,” she whispered.

“What we were ordered to do was wrong,” Scratch began to say, before he was cut off by another blue light flaring in the corner of his vision. A comm, this time from his commander, Shadow. 

“Has the Jedi been neutralized?” 

Scratch froze. There was no doubt the voice coming across the comm transmission was the one of his commander, but it felt cold and distant… like Shade’s had. 

“Yes,” he lied, trying to keep his composure. 

“Any losses?” 

“No.” 

“Excellent. We succeeded as well. Rendezvous at the ship when clean up is complete.”  

The blue light went dim as the comm was cut off, and the realization hit Scratch. He couldn’t go back to his brothers. He couldn’t return to the friends he had trusted his life with, fought beside, and considered akin to family. They weren’t the same anymore. Nothing would be the same anymore. 

With a heart heavily weighted with grief, he turned to Luline and found her sitting in the sands. Fresh tears sprang from her eyes as she held a hand out as if to reach for the Force. “My master is dead… isn’t he?” She breathed, her arms coming to wrap around herself. “He’s dead…so many are dead…I can feel them in the Force. It’s like the world is screaming.” 

Scratch looked down at his helmet, wondering if the screaming voices she heard were the ones at war in his head. The ones begging him to return to his brothers, to all return to the ship and just follow orders. If only he could leave his conscience behind. If only he could hit his head and cause whatever programming allowed them to go numb to the idea of killing those they swore to support to kick in. 

Hit his head… 

Suddenly Scratch realized why the medical droid claimed it was ill advised to leave without a brain scan. He wasn’t supposed to be behaving like this. Yet, as painful as it was, perhaps he was all the better for it. Perhaps this was as the force willed it. 

Because someone needed him. 

With heavy steps, Scratch trudged toward Luline, lifting the girl from the sands and into his arms. Her head fell against his armor, her tears turning the sand sprinkled across her pale green face to mud. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Scratch whispered, knowing he would mean the words to his last breath. Luline was all he had left, and he would do everything in his power to ensure a future for her. A safe place she could grow up, away from war, and away from the fear of being hunted for being a Jedi. He was already in the Outer Rim, a place few would search, and as a stealth trooper he practically spent his whole life learning the art of how to disappear. 

“Thanks, Scratch,” Luline whimpered, her fingers grasping at his armor and holding on tight. “You’re a good friend.” 

“You too,” Scratch replied, forcing down the emotion that welled in the back of his throat. “I’ve got your back, remember?” 

With a long look to Shade, Luline whispered, “No one has your back anymore though.” 

“I guess you’re going to have to watch out for me.”

“I can do that,” the young Jedi promised. “But I’m going to miss all of them.” 

With one last look at the dunes, Shade, and his brothers Scratch knew lay waiting behind the piles of sand, he whispered, “me too.”

Written By: Naomi Hernandez

Image Credit: Ashton Jenson & Midjourney software

Little Soul

In darkness, she waits. A lone soul long dead, a girl stripped of everything from a tender age. She remembers little of her life, but clings to one memory of something called “light.” She recalls it being warm and bright, golden or white, a welcoming sight. But she has not seen nor heard of anything like that for years, you see, not here, not in Hades. 

Day in and day out, souls drift through a canyon of black, across a glossy dark river. Styx is an unforgiving stream, and her waters take everything. Names, memories, one’s very being, until all that remains is a lifeless husk, the empty soul of someone who once was. Only the strongest of souls are said to retain any thoughts from their past lives. Perhaps this was why King Hades sought her out as a useful device. 

“Little Soul,” he called her, “How do you remember such things? You surrendered your life to me when you were only three.”

Little Soul paused, calculating her reply. “Perhaps I am like Achilles who still remembers his name. I could have been a great hero if it weren’t for the Fates.” 

“Is that so?” Hades laughed as he approached, his ominous figure coming in close. Curling an arm around Little Soul’s side, he swept his dark cloak open wide so as to cover her shoulders and take her under his wing. “Tell me more of who you think you could be.” 

“Perhaps I am like the king who never forgot his epic journey, the one he calls his odyssey. Or maybe my soul is like that of the muse who still sways and hums to her unforgettable tune.”
          

“Fine then, I have a job for you,” Hades declared, giving Little Soul a scare. She couldn’t imagine what he would require of her, a tragic being who’d barely spent any time on Earth. Though she longed to have spent her life as a hero, a poet, or a princess, the Fates had something else in store: death. If there was one thing she knew for certain, the fates were as cruel as a serpent. 

“I have someone I want you to meet,” Hades began, sweeping Little Soul up off her feet and carrying her to Styx’s beach. “A new soul came in this morning, one with memories. She goes by the name of Eurydice.” 

True as it can be, the soul of a beautiful young woman stood looking longingly over her shoulder on the beach. Her eyes searched the waters past the river Styx, as if waiting for someone or something. 

“What are you looking for?” Hades inquired, setting Little Soul down next to Eurydice. 

“My lover,” Eurydice whispered, eyes still searching the waves. 

A wry grin crossed Hades’s face. “Your lover isn’t here. He’s up in the world above. Eurydice, you’re separated from your love.” 

“Then he will come find me. I know he will,” she replied with total certainty, shocking the watching Little Soul. 

But Hades just laughed and laughed. “Mortal! You’re dead! Would you wish the same fate on Orpheus?” 

“So you know his name.” Eurydice smiled, unintimidated by the god of the underworld. “Hades, are you perhaps afraid?”  

The dark god shook with rage, trapped by his own words. Little Soul could tell that he knew about Orpheus, and by the smile on Eurydice’s lips, she knew that the stranger had full confidence her love would come. 

“What was he like?” Little Soul whispered, moving from the shadows to face Eurydice. She found something in the girl’s eyes intriguing. It almost reminded her of…light. 

“Orpheus could sing the world into motion. His words moved my heart and I fell in love.” Eurydice explained. “He’s soft and gentle, a tenderhearted man with a strong soul. For he was the son of a muse, and his voice could soothe even the hearts of the gods.” 

Little Soul felt her heart warm as Eurydice went on telling the story of her love, how they’d met, where they’d fallen for one another, and how they’d married. Much to Hades’s disturbance, she remembered it all, for their love was so strong. And much to his dismay, Orpheus would come for Eurydice that very day. 

Eurydice waited by the river, Little Soul with her, when the waters parted with the sound of music. A lyre’s strings strummed, and a heavenly voice hummed a tune above it all. The ghosts of the departed startled and bowed at the feet of a young man with a gentle face, bright eyes, and a glowing voice so warm and welcoming…it reminded her of light. 

“Eurydice,” he called, wrapping his arms around his love. “Remember me? It’s Orpheus. I’ve come for you. You don’t belong here in this land of night; return with me to the light.” 

“Not so fast!” Hades’s voice boomed, the dark god’s presence looming over the two. “What are you doing here boy? You’re trespassing in my kingdom.” 

Orpheus strung his lyre and a silky tune filled everyone’s ears. His melody sang so pure and smooth that the very air shivered with his words. The waters shook, and every soul turned to look as Orpheus begged Hades to set them free. Little Soul felt her heart melt with Oprheus’ words. His honey-sweet melodies drew her in and filled her mind with greater beauty than she’d ever known. 

“Stop it! Enough!” Hades chose to interrupt, pointing a finger back to whence the couple had come. “Leave, before you remind these dead souls of what they’re missing. But beware Orpheus, there’s only one way out. Walk single file and don’t look back. If you turn before you enter the land of the living, if you look back at Eurydice, I’ll claim her soul for eternity.” 

Little Soul’s heart lurched, watching them go. Who were these two, and how were they blessed enough to know one another? It wasn’t fair. When all she could cling to was the slightest memory of light…they remembered each other. She envied Eurydice. All this talk of life and love made her stomach churn with jealousy. She never got to experience those things. She never got to grow up, never got to experience love. The only life she’d ever known was a life in Hades, a slave to the dark, a useless puppet taunted with a single glimmering memory of light. 

Hades leaned down by her side. “Remember how I had a job for you?” 

Little Soul looked up at him with wide eyes. “Yes?” 

“I know what you long for; they are the very things you will never find here, my dear,” Hades told her. “But make a deal with me, and I will set you free.”

Little Soul gasped. “I’ll do anything.” 

“Don’t allow Eurydice to escape. Her soul is mine, and I won’t let it be stolen from me by an ambitious young boy and his musical strings.” Hades huffed. “Follow them, and when Eurydice falls, you can take her place in the land of the living.” 

“Really?” Little Soul whispered, amazed by the offer. 

“Yes, now go!” Hades declared, pushing her forward. So, off she went, following behind Orpheus and his wife. Though they could not see one another, the couple communicated beautifully. Orpheus would sing warnings as he led the way, his gentle words calming Eurydice. 

“Careful now, my love, this ledge would be terrible to fall off of.” 

“Be wary now my flower, the cave is narrow; so cower low and let me sing you home.” 

At last they reached a great door, one Orpheus claimed he’d walked through before. He swung it open wide and walked his way inside. But something caused little soul to pause, as what she knew to always be true spilled out through the door. Her dream, her vision, the hope she clung to. 

“Light!” she exclaimed, gasping at a sunny day. 

It was spring, and flowers were blooming with the wonder of Persephone. A gust of wind caught the sides of her face in a chilly embrace, as bluebirds caught hold of the same breeze, using it to fly with ease. Grass peeked through the melting snow, like the little squirrels buried in a hollow. This was nothing like the world below… this was a world of light. 

With every ounce of her little soul, the girl longed to know what it felt like to live a life in the world of light. But with her exclamation of joy, Orpheus turned to look back once more, before his wife could walk through the door. 

She saw the brokenness in his eyes as he contemplated his wife’s demise. He reacted a second too soon, a second so unfortunate that he would lose everything to it. Little Soul saw Orpheus’s eyes grow dark, as he realized they would be forced to part. 

On the line between death and day, Eurydice gave a final wave as the ground beneath her feet gave way. 

“No!” Little Soul sang, pushing Eurydice into the day and taking her place. She never saw the lover’s expressions, but as she fell she saw the light again, streaming down into the cave of the grave she’d dug. Painful as it was to leave the world above, she couldn’t help but smile as she was whisked away. 

She’d saved the light. 

Not the one streaming from the skies above…no, the one that existed in love. A new kind of light she would cherish, knowing that because of her, Eurydice didn’t perish.

Written by: Naomi Hernandez

Image Credit

Excerpt from Deadwater

The hollow steps of the corridor echoed in Blaise’s ear. Swiftly, he followed his guide as if he would lose them in the dark expanse. Nothing but glossy darkness down the hallway, with only silence aside the footsteps. After endless paperwork and interviews, the world began closing in. He knew this was the last step in the process, where he would meet Lavinia, the executive. A powerful shadow spoken of in nothing but proper regard. Blaise felt heat around his ears. The guide slowed, and with panic in his stomach, he saw the door.

His accompaniment halted and turned to him. “She is waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” were the only words he whispered.

Since arriving, he felt the overwhelming urge to speak in nothing more than hushed tones. Each person he met inside Obsidian spoke directly and quietly. He followed suite. Pushing into the door, he entered her office, attempting confidence.

A small office. It was decorated minimally with the same black, glossy walls except for the back wall which looked to be foggy, black glass with a flat waterfall running down it. Her desk was situated in the center, near the back of the room, and her figure spoke for the space.

“Welcome, Blaise. Please, have a seat.”

She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. He complied, keeping his focus on her face. She appeared calm and lovely, dressed in sleek, dark garments and a strong posture.

“Thank you, Ms. Sparro. It is wonderful to finally make your acquaintance.”

She smiled, “I’m sure.”

Silence – but he wouldn’t let that shake him. Blaise knew his confidence and charm should never waver, and silence is powerful. One should use silence and embrace it. The nature of Obsidian is silence; the world needed it.

“The time has not been wasted by you, yet, and that I thank you for.” Her voice was cool and collected, with a tenderness to it.

“I’m glad,” he answered.

What to say next? Why did she not continue and ask questions? Blaise smiled but felt a spinning unresolve in his head as he felt the conversation stagnate. Did she want me to introduce myself and pitch to her my value? Why isn’t she speaking?

“I desire our time here together to be efficient and valuable to you, Ms. Sparro. And with the interviews and assessments I surmounted already I ask what it is you would like to know further?”

She listened well, gazing into him as he spoke. Blaise began to feel his clothes more – the tightness of his collar.

She said, “I know so much about you Mx. Ridley. I only appreciate the experience of listening to your presence as you sit before me in my office. You know the work you will be doing here, and I think you will succeed greatly.”

“Thank you,” Blaise nodded his head.

This is a test of will and patience I presume. I can sit here all day and speak pleasantries with you, Lavinia.

A harsh knock almost caused Blaise to visibly startle.

A muffled tone erupted from behind the door, “Lavinia, I won’t have this nonsense you’re scheming with Lana. She’s not going to that school!”

Lavinia never dropped her focus on Blaise, but her eyes narrowed slightly. She stood up, approached the door, and opened it slightly. The light scent of cedar wafted toward Blaise, and he didn’t dare turn his head to see who the guest was.

In a low tone he heard, “Cirrus, I will gladly discuss this with you later. Now, leave my office.”

“You have no right to delegate where she goes and who she lives with. She’s my daughter!” Blaise heard a tired desperation in the person’s voice.

“I hold every right to decide how family is treated and brought up in our house. You will soon learn this, despite your failure as a father.”

She closed the door and walked back over to her desk. Blaise heard footsteps recede from the door.

“Now Mx. Blaise, I believe you should see the facilities of Obsidian if you are to articulate what we do and acquire us the clients we deserve.”

As she walked to her place behind the desk, she tapped on the center of the desk’s surface. A divided playing board flipped open with pieces laid, ready to play.

“Let’s see our beautiful research center first.”

Lightly pressing on a piece, a doorway opened from behind the waterfall.

“Follow me, Blaise Ridley.”

Written by Kayla

Image credit

Welcome at the Well

            As I walked through the greenery towards the only entrance with my hand gliding along the circular stone wall, I saw the guard. She sleepily leaned against the front of the gate. My footsteps continued, avoiding any sound that might startle her. Suddenly, she spotted me and shouted, “Welcome!” with the biggest smile. After taking a few steps inside, many stares of confusion, mixed with excitement, greeted my figure. The fairy in front of me introduced herself as Ayesha, while others behind her waved. She served as the guardian of the Well, a fairy town hiding an artifact that grants wishes. Over the years, I had heard many stories and legends of this town, but never expected to find a welcome at the gate.

            “Why are they staring?” I inquired. Ayesha grabbed my hand, gave it a shake, and exclaimed, “Oh, we haven’t had a visitor in years! Let me show you around.” Within a minute passing, I made it beyond the gates, met the guard, and began touring the town. “Shouldn’t you stay at your post? Aren’t you worried about your defenses?” I questioned.

Ayesha stopped, mid-thought, and leveled her eyes with mine. “We have all the defenses we need. No need to worry,” she answered. After a bit more of her rambling about the town, I asked her the question that surged into my mind, “Why did you welcome me so quickly?”

            She extended her arm and pointed towards my back. “Your wings!” Ayesha remarked. “It’s rare to find a fairy outside of our town, and many here love hearing stories of the outside world.” She turned her back to me once again, explaining different aspects of the town while I followed. She must have forgotten to ask my name, what I came here for, or who I am. Her willing trust alarmed me with its unfamiliarity. I stayed silent and kept my guard up, while Ayesha blissfully guided me to the center of the Well.

            A crowd of fairies began to gather; all their heads angled upward. Suddenly, a huge circular shadow appeared on the ground. I immediately lifted my gaze. A few fairies leapt from the ground to fly towards the flying object. They extended their arms and stabilized it in the air. The fairies guided it to the center of the Well, and Ayesha prompted me to step back. Then they released it. A coin slammed face down in the middle of town.

            Ayesha prompted me to sit and watch the ritual. A few fairies gathered around the edges of the coin, placing petals to create distinctive marks on it. Then an old, frail lady walked towards the center carrying an excessively ornamented gold lamp. When she sat down and placed the lamp in front of her knees, everyone gathered closer. The lady spoke, “This one comes from a child. He wishes for his mother to recover from a terrible sickness.” In response everyone instantly raised their thumbs in acceptance of this wish. The lady nodded and proceeded to light a candle inside the ornate lamp.

            Silence covered the edges of the town as everyone slowly watched the wax drip down the candle. I copied their reactions to remain inconspicuous. The atmosphere changed after an hour when the flame abruptly formed into a purple smoke. I stood up. Everyone raised their heads, and the lady proclaimed the first break from silence, “The wish was granted!” As the fairies of the town cheered, I prepared my wings and lunged straight for the lamp. My arms collapsed around it. I propelled my body as fast as I could up towards the limits of the walls.

            No one followed. Not even Ayesha, the supposed guardian of this artifact. Once I flew over the walls, I continued to stay airborne until my feet plopped onto desolate sand. There, I continued my journey on foot, kicking the heavy sand away from my path. Eventually, I returned to the mostly empty cave I claimed as home. I placed the artifact on the table and stared. I searched in my mind for something to wish for, but I couldn’t imagine anything that would make me happy. I thought successfully obtaining such a rare artifact would at least let my face profit a smile, but nothing appeared.

            I sat at my desk intending to write a letter to my client informing him of my success. However, my drifting stares toward the artifact continually interrupted my focus. finally, I got up from my desk, approached the artifact, and thought of how Ayesha treated me followed in return with my betrayal. I clutched the artifact in my arms and headed out the door. I began the journey back to the Well wondering if they would accept me again or deal me a reasonable punishment. On my way, I prepared myself to face her.

            Once there, Ayesha’s eyes greeted mine. I froze in place as she walked toward me with her serious face. She grabbed the artifact and her face changed. She exclaimed, “It always works! Welcome home!” She gave me the same smile as before. I returned a confused and startled stare. She teased, “I told you we have all the defenses we need.” Ayesha paced back towards the gate and opened it wide. Then she turned to me and remarked, “Isn’t this what you wished for?”

Written by Rachel

Image credit

Lucky’s Cookies

Boredom overcame the hotel employees as 3am approached. The midnight crowd turned out lighter than usual; Lester greatly appreciated this. Monica fostered the bad habit of snacking on the job. Even though she worked behind the giant front desk, hiding her from common view, her image needed to remain impeccable; the fudge chocolate cookies did not help.

Lester’s feet dragged the short carpet hallway. He heard the lights buzzing and ice machine churning every so often. His stomach also churned. “Chocolate fudge cookies will not fulfill me, so don’t eat them.” His inner monologue became a dialogue when a voice from his stomach replied, “well, it’s something.” Lester paused. Blinking a of couple times for good measure and popping his wrist, he continued down the hallway unphased. “These carpets need cleaning!” He directed this complaint to Monica as he arrived at the front desk. Looking over to his silent coworker, he found a tablet propped up against the computer, cookies in her hand, and half-dazed eyes watching a crime show. “Monica.” He repeated with a tired attempt at sternness. Her face turned towards his direction; her eyes still stuck to the screen. “Mhm?” “You can’t be serious. You’re not even going to try and hide it now, are you?” Lester experienced no shock at his coworker’s unprofessional conduct. He technically stood over her in authority, but he held no intention of dealing out consequences today. Consequences do not exist past 1am. “Well, could you at least write a note to get the carpet cleaner down here in the coming week?” Monica’s wizardry at multitasking manifested through a slow raise of the hand, sloppy scribble on a sticky note, and the crooked pasting of the note on the computer, all without her eyes leaving the screen.

Lester sat down at his desk in the back office. He began sorting papers but found himself so overwhelmed he fidgeted with miscellaneous office supplies instead. His head buzzed in tandem with the florescent lights. The clock read 3:15am. “This is going to be such a long night.” He groaned. “Let’s have some cookies!” His stomach chimed in at this moment of sober silence. “What!?” He halfway called towards the door. He assumed Monica saw his wretched state and spoke out a suggestion. “I’m not eating those darn cookies, Monica!” He replied. Silence followed, and he opened his laptop with the intention of playing solitaire. However, his feet held different ideas. The restlessness that overcame him ached from his feet to his face. No amount of fidgeting could sustain his body in his position on the cracking leather swivel chair. In an effort to aid the static flowing through his veins, he stood up and made his way down the other first floor hallway.

The hotel’s yellow lighting and long, horseshoe hallway made a great racetrack for slow, dissociative pacing. Lester walked and walked, swinging his legs as he strode down the vacant hotel corridor. “Monica will surely eat all the cookies. Turn around you fool.” Lester paused. “Who’s that?” He asked, glancing around him. No one occupied the hallway beside him, no door was ajar, and no phone call was in session. “I suppose a snack wouldn’t hurt, but not cookies.” He thought it best to entertain the voice rather than argue with it, for he did not like arguing. “No. Cookies or bust!” replied his stomach. “I have some almonds in the office, would that work?” Lester tried to negotiate. “Absolutely not!” His stomach seemed as stubborn as appropriate. As passive a person as Lester, some part of his vessel needed to store the firmness his consciousness lacked. Lester’s legs drug him onward down the hall and an almost endless, dizzy feeling started emerging through his hunger pains. Nausea rippled through his head much like dense desert heat waves. He walked on and on and on. “What a wonderful time to eat cookies with gooey fudge baked inside and perhaps a bit of chocolate frosting to dress it,” said his stomach in sarcastic reprimand. “No, no…” Lester said as his knees bent and buckled. He caught himself and the nausea fled, just for a moment. He blinked to clear his tunnel-like vision. “Just need to clean these blasted carpets,” he muttered under a ragged breath. His legs carried him farther down the hallway until he delivered his dizzy skull to the other side, back at the front desk. Lester sat in one of the lime-green lobby chairs. For the first time, the usually rough fabric of the cushions felt dull to the touch. Inside his mind, a place that felt to hover just above his limp body, he heard a small noise from the front desk. The sound of Monica’s crime show wafted to his ear. “Now you will die in these horrid chairs” said his stomach with a shooting pain to accompany the sentence. “You’ll have to listen to her awful shows forever more.” “What about the almonds?” Lester barely whispered to himself. “Forget the almonds, you’re dying, Lester!”

Monica tasted the chocolate fudge cookies from Lucky’s Cookies for the first time at her little niece’s ninth birthday two weeks ago. They immediately became her new favorite. She started her show promptly at 1am and began enjoying them, attempting to spread them out across the night. She had brought a batch of her second favorite cookies (previously first favorite) a while back and finished them within an hour. This night, she set out to enjoy them slowly throughout her shift, savoring every bite. With Lester’s usual pacing and the hotel’s quiet night shift, she anticipated an enjoyable evening. Sitting cozy behind the large front desk, she continued binging the next episodes of her crime show. By the 3:30am hour, she felt like the show’s writers relied a little too much on basic serial killer villains. So, she switched to a spooky thriller instead. Half the batch gone. She set a timer on her phone for the next time she could grab one. She failed to comply. Peering over the desk, she saw Lester slouched in the lime-green lobby chairs. “Want a cookie?” Monica inquired, her eyes squinting from the lights as she hadn’t looked up in over an hour. “Lester?” Monica called once more before returning to her cookies and show. What a weird guy.

“Do you know the benefits of chocolate, Lester?” “Stop talking to me please.” Lester had energy only for internal speech. “Kings ate chocolate by the barrel you know?” His stomach reflected. “That’s probably not true.” Lester’s eyes rolled up into his head. His world went dark.

Back in elementary school, your mom packed you a cookie with your lunch every day, remember Lester? She didn’t know the way she loved you never fit right in your head. Maybe you just didn’t know how to receive love, like you tried so hard to function outside your bedroom you didn’t know how to eat. Do you know how to eat, Lester? You’re an adult now. You should know. Every hug she gave you your body went rigid. No one, not even your mother, could give you the love you wanted. Why are you so particular? Why can’t you eat? Why can’t you just feel grateful for a mother who hugged you and packed you lunch every day, with cookies no less.

Lester, not by his own volition, took a nap in the lime-green lobby chair. He woke up to even greater hunger pains but a softened fuzziness in his head. He carefully walked back to the office behind the front desk. Sitting in the cracked leather swivel chair, he nibbled on some almonds. His eyes caught part of Monica’s tablet as her thriller show played. His blank staring subsided as he began to watch it more intently. The almonds tasted like nothing, but the fuzziness in his head started to clear as he slowly took bites. He only heard his deep breaths and the crinkling of the almond bag. The clock read 3:45am. He looked a bit closer at the tablet: a couple of characters franticly dug in a graveyard. He shook his head, amused, “these shows – all the same.” Nevertheless, he continued watching. “Don’t watch that show, Lester,” remarked his eyeballs.

Written by Kayla

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