Prose Fiction

He puts his pillow over his head and closes his eyes again. Jesse groans as he shouts back, “No, leave me alone. I don’t want to go to school!”

Why does he feel the need to do this every morning? It gets on my damn nerves, Ember thinks before barging into his room. She walks up to her older brother, sees his sleeping frame, takes a pillow, and hits him repeatedly to wake him up.

“Stop, Ember, just leave me alone,” Jesse begs.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Ember grins before hitting him again. “Maybe if you get up, I might just stop,” she continues.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll get up, Ember,” he says, “Just stop hitting me and get out!”

“You promise?” 

He sighs and nods. “Yes, I promise, now please go.”

Ember holds her hands in victory before putting her brother’s pillow back on his bed and turning to him again with a mischievous look. 

Noticing her expression, Jesse knows his sister is up to no good. “What is it? What did you do this time?”

“Do you not notice the time, dear brother?” She pulls out her phone, and the time is 6:30. “You only have ten minutes to shower, put your clothes on, and get breakfast. How are you planning to do all that?”

‘Ten minutes? Ten? TEN?” Jesse gasps before sprinting out of the room. Ember laughs at her brother as he runs. 

What an idiot! School does not start until next week. I wonder how long it will take him to realize this, Ember thinks as she chuckles.

Then, when Milo accused Serona of having cooties, all hell broke loose. Friend turned against friend, brother against sister, until factions formed. There were the girls, being led by Serona. And the boys, who were led by Milo. Milo has managed to convince the majority of the boys that all the girls were cootie-carriers, and that they only wished to infect the boys. Serona, conversely, has convinced the girls that the boys are all rough meanies who don’t care about them at all. Being a girl, I had naturally sided with Serona. My sources among the boys had told me of Milo’s fear mongering, and I told them of Serona’s. The war has been going on for three long days, with us girls having claimed the overhang, the sandbox, and the see-saw. The boys have claimed the swingset, the four-square square, and the slide. The central playground was considered no-man's land, as it was directly between the girls and boys territory. The only people who went there were strikers, whose only job was to throw the mulch and then get out of there as fast as possible. Of course, there had been losses on both sides. Addie scraped her elbow and had to go get a band aid. Theo twisted his ankle and has been ordered by the nurse to take it easy for a few days. 

It’s easy to look at all this loss and strife and see a kindergarten class incapable of peace. But all is not lost, not yet at least. A few boys and girls, including myself, have formed a pseudo-resistance. We have been meeting in secret during nap-time, devising plans to undermine both sides and bring peace back to the playground. So far we number only five, but we are rapidly recruiting more. If you’ve found this chalk drawing, it means that we are still fighting. I ask you to think for yourself, and choose peace. For the sake of everyone. This is Martha, signing off.

“Hello, little girl,” says Gingy the Gingerbread Tree. 

“Hello, Ms. Gingy,” the little girl replies.

“Are you sticking around this time?” asks Gingy. She asks the same question every time the little girl passes by her. 

“No, I am just passing through. I am trying to get back to the Candy Castle,” replies the little girl.

“Good luck, sweetie. Watch out for Lord Licorice. I hear he is on the lookout for children sneaking through his forest,” Gingy warns. This warning is new. The little girl always looks out for the scary Lord Licorice, but Gingy has never told her to beware of him before.

The next card shows two red squares. The little girl hops to the first red square and then hops to the second red square. She is making her way into the peppermint forest. From her red square, she sees the sign that points to the forest. There is already a slight nip in the air from where the little girl is standing. She sees a touch of snow in the distance and her nose and cheeks turn pink from the chill. The next card reads green, so she hops to the green square. She has finally entered the Peppermint Forest. 

Mr. Mint pops up from behind a peppermint stick. He has always scared the living sweetness out of the little girl. He is tall and looks like a clown. He has bright red hair and a big red nose. He always wears big red shoes and candy cane-patterned clothes. Mr. Mint carries around an axe to chop down peppermint sticks in his forest. “TIMBER!” Mr. Mint yells as a 10-foot-tall peppermint stick falls over the path. 

The little girl has to hop back one spot to the blue square in order to avoid getting hit by the tasty tree. The little girl hops over the peppermint stick.

“Sorry, little girl. I didn’t see you there!”

“That’s okay, Mr. Mint. Have a nice day!” the little girl says.  

She hops along the path, following the directions of the cards picked up from the pile. She hops across the Gumdrop Pass. The path was bouncy and sticky, leaving sugar on the soles of her shoes. It was like hopping across a sugar-coated trampoline. 

She reaches a green square and sees a trap placed by Lord Licorice. Sticky black licorice is stuck to a red square, and if she lands on that square, she will be stuck. The next card is flipped over. The card shows a blue square. Thank goodness, she wants to be the first child to arrive at the Candy Castle. The girl hops to the blue square joyfully, but then she realizes where she is. She is in the Licorice Forest. 

It is dark here. Tall dark trees surround the path. She hears stomping in the distance. She gets nervous. She tries to hop along the path faster, but she can only hop as far as the cards command. Lord Licorice’s stomps are getting closer and closer; she hears the thump, thump, thump getting louder and louder. She can see the start of light from where the path leads back out of the forest. Just a few more squares and she would be out. The card reads green, she hops to the blue square and then to the green. She is stuck. She tries to lift her feet off the path, but they feel as though they are permanently glued there.

 Lord Licorice is right behind her. “Hello, little girl. Trying to pass through my forest I see.” 

She trembles in fear. She has heard stories about Lord Licorice. According to the rumors, he holds little boys and girls captive in a licorice tree house and all they get to eat is back licorice. The little girl hates the taste of black licorice. It tastes bitter and is a little bit like medicine. The flavor stays forever and the chewy candy, if it can even be called that, sticks to her back teeth.

“Yes sir, I am very sorry, but I need to get to the Candy Castle,” the little girl says. 

“Oh, you need to get to the Candy Castle now, do you? You have to answer a question first and then you go.” 

“Okay,” says the little girl.

“What word has three e’s but only one letter?” Lord Licorice asks. He likes riddles because he enjoys watching little boys and girls struggle to answer his questions.

The little girl thinks long and hard. She knows that if she got this wrong she will be stuck here in the Licorice Forest, and she really wants to win the race to the castle. What has 3 e’s, but only one letter? It suddenly comes to her!

 “An envelope!” She exclaimed.

Lord Licorice looks angry. He is not used to little children answering his questions correctly.

 “Move along!” He growls. He pours some warm water over her feet. 

She struggles to remove her feet from the square at first, but she finally managed to hop to the next square. Her shoes make a pop as they unattach themselves from the sticky candy. 

As she hops along, her next stop is Peanut Acres. The salty nutty smell hits her immediately. She sees Gramma Nutt in the front yard with her hoe. Gramma Nutt is the kindest woman in Candy Land. Her hugs were even warmer and better than her peanut butter cookies.

“Hello Gramma!” says the little girl.

“Hello, sweetie! Do you have time to come in for some Peanut Brittle?” Gramma Nutt asks with an inviting smile.

“No ma’am, I have to get to the Candy Castle. I think I am in the lead,” says the little girl.

“Okay, sweetie. I will see you when you come back around then!” Gramma Nutt calls after her as the little girl hops to the next purple square.

 She approaches the Lollipop Woods. This is her second favorite place in Candy Land. She loves the colors of all the lollipop trees. There are blue, pink, purple, and green trees all around. The woods smell sweet and delicious. Every time she passes by, she wants to take a big lick of every colored tree, and sometimes she does when she is not in so much of a hurry. Lolly the fairy is busy kissing the trees to make them even sweeter. She is too busy to say hello, but she does blow the little girl a sweet kiss. 

The little girl keeps on hopping through the Lollipop Woods. Green, purple, blue, green. Hop, hop, hop. She knows she is getting closer and closer to Candy Castle. She just has one more stop before she got there: the Chocolate Swamp. This place always ruins her clothes, but it tastes so good. When she arrives, gingerbread children are playing with Gloppy the chocolate swamp monster. The little girl struggles as she hops through the chocolate. Chocolate is everywhere. In her hair, her pants, and best of all her mouth. It was a nice dark chocolate. It isn’t too sweet or too bitter. Swamp chocolate is the best chocolate in all of Candy Land. She only has a few more squares to go before she makes it to Candy Castle. The next card is flipped over and takes her right to the Castle. King Kandy is sitting at the entrance waiting for her. 

Instead of grass, the grounds of Candy Castle are made out of Skittles. When the little girl picks one up to eat, immediately a new one pops up out of the ground. The castle is built out of every candy in the world. Columns are created by Twilzlers twisted tightly together, a dome on top of the castle is made out of a giant bubble gum container, and a chocolate moat surrounds the palace. She never wants to leave this place. Every time she comes here, she discovers a new candy that she loves more than the last. 

“You made it, little girl. You are the first one! Congratulations!” King Kandy says joyously. 

King Kandy is always jolly. The little girl gives him a quick curtsey and smiles back at him. 

“Now it is time to send you back to the start,” King Kandy sprinkles some sprinkles over her head and the little girl is sent back to the start of the path to repeat her journey all over again.

Sometimes you can hear the lilting songs of birds, sometimes you can hear the rustling wind in the trees, sometimes the clay-dirt will shine a mirage of the green it used to behold.

Your legs hurt.

The wind whistles across the wasteland, a dry hollow note that carries with it the whispers of a time long forgotten. In its broken tune is the sound of an oasis: cloud-dotted sky plentiful with birds, the soft flutter of butterfly wings landing on a nearby flower, a gentle brush of shrubs in the wind.

It’s so close.

The wind stills and the vision fades, bringing back the graveyard of dusty and arid atmosphere, a landscape brutal in its roots–or lack thereof. A tumbleweed flies by, brown and crinkling, almost seeming to catch on the ghosts of long-dead grasses and flower-weeds that sprouted nearby.

Just this last step.

Heat refracts and draws lines on the horizon, playing on the sand like a mirror of water, a pool forgotten in time. It shimmers under the sun, fresh and blue, beholding small fish. A pool of water. You’re so close and it feels so cool on your skin already.

You collapse.

Outside the mall, people hustle and bustle on their way to work, dropping off their children at school, going to God knows where, but they were always going. Madison looked entirely out of place here, and she knew it. She was a kindergarten teacher in a struggling school district. She barely made enough to pay for weekly groceries.

She lived in the apartment building just across the street from the glorious Dynamic Deluxe Shopping Centre. She had lived there for exactly 2 years, 2 years of watching the mall expand and adapt and grow upon itself greedily. She had only been inside once to look for her father’s birthday present and found upon arrival that the mall had become overtaken completely by tourists. The line to the Starbucks, the smallest shop in the whole building, had to have been at least a mile wide. She turned on her heel, left, and bought him a goofy mug from the CVS store 5 minutes down the road. It seemed to be the smarter option.

The old lady who lived in the apartment building across from her was always out, sitting on her porch, sipping a cup of rose tea. She smelled like honey and old England and was always grimacing, staring out into the mall. At anyone she saw passing by on their way to the mall, she would lean onto the balcony railing and squint, scrutinizing the person completely. Madison would often giggle to herself when she saw this. She quite admired the old woman's attitude. 

The woman’s name was Lily and she was 85 years old. Madison knew this because Lily had told her on one occasion that they met accidentally in the elevator. Madison knew that at one time in her life, Lily had been a famous actress. Back in the late 50s and early 60s, Lily had been Miss Lillian Agnelli, the most gorgeous and talented singer and actress next to Elizabeth Taylor. She also knew that Miss Agnelli had skillfully slipped out of fame as delicately as a feather would slip out of a pillow. They replaced her with the newest, hottest actress. She faded away, a speck of dust in an antique store.

Lily didn’t know Madison knew this. Madison was 25, after all, and wasn’t that sort of young to be watching movies from the ’50s?

On this particular spring day, it was windy and filled with sunshine—completely beautiful outside. Madison opened up her apartment window to let the breeze in. She smiled and leaned forward. She watched the passersby on the street below but felt a strange, odd kind of feeling as if she was being watched.

“Young lady, if you want to fully appreciate the breeze, you might want to do it without leaning too far out of your window. I sure hope you have insurance!” And sure enough, it was Miss Agnelli, walking below her in the streetway. 

“Good morning, ma’am! Yes, I’ll get right on that insurance, thank you!” Madison called back, laughing. She saw that Lily was wearing a large purple sun hat, with a wide black rim and little daisy details etched in it. Lily frowned. “Would you like to have a cup of tea?” Madison suddenly was very intrigued. Lillian Agnelli wanted to hang out with her? “Yes, that sounds lovely,” she replied, choosing her words very carefully.  She wanted to be especially respectful towards her. “I’ll be up in 10 minutes.” Lily waved. Madison waved as well and suddenly was oozing with anticipation. 

“Come in, come in.” Lily stood outside her apartment ushering in Madison a few minutes later. Madison was led out to Lily’s balcony, where a small white table and two chairs looked out to the mall. On top of the table sat a glass vase with peculiar blue-colored roses perched delicately inside it. “What kind of tea would you like? I have chai, oolong, Earl Gray, green tea, a bunch of others probably as well—I would just have to find them.” Lily chuckled.

“I’ll have green tea. Thanks.” Madison sat down and waited for the old woman to prepare the tea. She wondered whether Lily needed any help, but just as she was thinking this, Lily responded, “I know what you’re probably thinking, but I am really quite capable of preparing my own cup of tea. Been doing it for over 40 years.”

She shuffled down with the two mugs in hand and passed one to Madison. “If you really want to enjoy the weather, you should either go for a walk or sit out on a patio.” Madison watched Lily intently as she sipped her tea. She was a very classy old lady, and yet she did not seem delicate in any way. The way she dressed, the way she smiled, the way she carried herself—she had a certain element of uniqueness and beauty, a je ne sais quoi.

Madison could see how someone like her had a star quality. “Nice weather we’ve been having lately,” she remarked. “Madison, is it?” Lily looked curiously at her. Madison nodded. Lily sighed, “If I wanted to chit-chat about the weather, I would have called up the local fed-ex guy. Not an awfully bright young man, is he?” Madison was once a fed-ex worker too- picking up another job in order to help pay for rent. “Then what is it you would like to discuss?” Madison promptly asked, starting to pick up the same pace and tone. Madison curiously sipped her tea, which happened to be exactly the perfect temperature. It was the best green tea she had ever had in her whole life. 

 “I was wondering if you wanted to hear a story. My story. I’ve kept it in all these years, and you seem just like the sort of intelligent, driven, curious young woman to share it with,” Lily said. Madison smiled. “Wow!” she exclaimed.  “I know you know who I am. I can see it on your face. But I don’t know if you know where I came from.” 

Madison raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Lily gestured to the mall. “This mall, this place, this desecrated consumerist wasteland used to be my home. Did you know there used to be a theatre here? My father owned the theatre back when I was small, and that's when I started acting.”

“This is it, kid. Take a look at it. Life will never be the same!” My father yelled happily into the red ribbon outside our new theatre. Wow. I just couldn’t believe it was really ours. Everything about it seemed shiny. The stage was huge and brilliant with a dazzling crystal chandelier in the center of the room. We had all the equipment one could possibly need. The theater filled my heart with hope for the future, hope for what was to come. 

My father and I had never been well off. We struggled enormously when my mother left us. My father was an accountant, but he had dreams of being a director. When he quit his job and took out a loan for this theater, all I could think about was how rich and happy we were going to be. No more living in the crappy, cold apartment with flickering lights, eating cereal for dinner half of the nights of the week. We could finally get a dog, go out to eat for our birthdays, and relax a little. 

The theater stretched about a mile wide. My father called it “modern classy”. It had enormous golden doors and a huge marquee that lit up with gold and white patterns of stars around it. We were so proud.

 My dad tried to find actors to put on his plays. He started out simple— Shakespeare and nothing else—but he could never find actors that were any good. One day, when I was just sitting around on the stage, and my dad was on the phone with his lawyer, trying desperately to get more time before he had to pay back the loan, I decided to pick up the script and try it. How hard could it be, after all?

“I’ll follow you and

Make a heaven out 

Of hell, and I’ll die

By your hand,

Which I love so well.”

I guess I must have been pretty good because my dad had tears welling in his eyes. “You. You and I are gonna make this work. You’re gonna be my star, Lily.”

I was ten years old when I first realized how much I loved being onstage. I could scream and shout and cry and people would applaud me for it. Small plays, only 30 or 40 people in the theatre, but to me, it was everyone in the whole world. I learned how to navigate life through that stage. Love revenge and boredom all passed through my eyes in the characters I was playing.

When my dad finally started to get real, good actors to take part in his plays, I was already a teenager. By then we had sold out shows every night, an amazing prop and set and costume team, and life just seemed to sparkle. I still helped act in some of the plays, the ensemble, and the smaller characters. I was content but not ecstatic. On one particular night in June, we must have made about half a million dollars. Our little theatre had become the hit of the town. 

But what I didn’t realize was what was happening behind the scenes of my life. My father, the strong and creative man that he was, had been keeping a secret for my whole life. Madison raised her eyebrows and took a sip of her tea once again. It really was the best damn cup of tea she had ever had. 

“Well?” She stared at Lily in anticipation. Lily smiled. “You want to know what he was keeping from me? Big deal. What matters most is what I did when I found out.”The air around them buzzed with anticipation. People walking out of the mall with shopping bags, the cars on the street going by, and some blasting music at full volume. But all Madison could think of was the story. Lily smirked and continued.

My father, for my whole life, had been having an affair with his old partner at his workplace when he was an accountant. That would have been fine, considering he was now single, except for the fact that it was the early, and not so accepting,1950’s and my dad’s partner was male.

If it got leaked to the public that at the height of his career, my father was gay, let me just put it this way—it wouldn’t have gone down so well. I remember the day I found out. I found the secret letters that they would send to each other. 

“Dad! What the hell are these?” I yelled, running up to him, letters in hand as I shoved them down on the coffee table. I could feel a red blush creeping up on my cheeks. I was embarrassed. Embarrassed beyond belief. Not because my father was gay, but because he hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me. I had found the letters behind a drawer where he kept important documents—it had no knob, so it looked just like a regular part of the wall.

“Lily, I know what this looks like—” But I cut him off. “Is this why mom left us?!” I was screaming now. My father had gone pale. “Yes.”

My whole life had been a lie. “Lily, sweetheart, you gotta understand that I never meant to hurt your mom. I mean, she was my best friend, but of course, I didn’t really love her in the same way you think I did…” My jaw had been literally on the floor for the past 10 minutes.

“Stop. Talking. You can’t make this right in one day,” I yelled. I stormed off into the theatre, my favorite place in the whole world that had been built on a foundation of lies.

There was no turning back now. I shivered in the cold, our heater had broken on December 29th. It was icy everywhere.

I did the only thing that I could do. I knew my father loved me, but I didn’t think he trusted me. I needed to get away, just for a little while. I packed my bags and bought a ticket for the next train to Chicago.  I didn’t really know why, I just knew that it felt like the right place to be. I had been listening to “Chicago” by Frank Sinatra religiously the last few weeks. I had a plan to go to the first theatre I found and buy a ticket to whatever show was going on. I needed to be immersed in a story that wasn’t my own life. 

I was sixteen but looked around nineteen, so I could easily purchase tickets and get in. Once in the theatre, I found my seat and shuffled in. A small part of my stomach still managed to feel really, really guilty for leaving town. I hope my dad hadn’t called the police. Suddenly, a strange-looking woman in a bow tie with curly blonde hair shook my arm.“Hey kid, can you sing?” 

I sighed. “Um, what?” But I think she must have heard me say something else because she grabbed my arm and dragged me all the way up backstage. 

I can’t remember exactly what happened for the rest of that night, but I know that I was shoved into a formal satin emerald dress with sleeves down around the shoulders, polished off with some perfume that glittered when sprayed on my skin. My makeup was done hastily: blush mascara powder and concealer were glossed across my face. I had never seen anyone curl hair as fast as my hair was curled that night.

“Sing anything. Sing whatever you want. Just SING.” This man with a really crusty-looking mustache barked at me in a British accent. “OK?” I said. I wasn’t really nervous, I was having fun with all this chaos. I was supposed to be the lead-up to the show. Their singer had canceled last minute, and there was no one else.

When I got up to the stage, I don’t even believe I said hello or introduced myself to the crowd. I just sang. I sang “It’s Been a Long, Long, Time” and I felt the band below me follow my lead with the words. I felt electric. I felt powerful. At the start, I was shaking so much I could feel my voice start to give. Then I remembered that if I didn’t calm the hell down, this performance would be awful.

At the end of it, I believe, if I do say so myself, that I got a fine standing ovation. But that wasn’t what stood out to me. What really got me was the fact that I could clearly see my father, sitting directly in the third row to the left. He looked absolutely flabbergasted. 

I ran off the stage and gave him a hug immediately after it ended. “How did you find out I was here?” I said. My dad frowned. “I tracked down your tickets. Also, I know you-especially your favorite song.” He sighed. 

“What are you gonna do? Am I grounded for the rest of my life?” I felt completely spent. We turned to walk away from the show. I knew that I was about to get in big trouble, bigger trouble than I’d ever been in so far. To my surprise, my father said, “No. You aren’t. Lillian, I didn’t know you could sing like that. You are wildly talented.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I smiled. We kept walking. “Let's go home,” he said and turned to the train station where the ticket booth was inevitably still open, even though it was close to 11. Suddenly, I heard running and panting and a voice behind me that said, “Do you need a manager?”

I turned around and the same woman with curly blonde hair was staring at us. “A manager? What for?” I asked. The woman giggled. “Girlie, with a voice like the one you have, you’re gonna be expecting business at every turn. What you did tonight alone, without any rehearsal time, was spectacular.”

“And that was exactly how it all started. I was cast in my first film only 6 months later, and my stardom continued to rise. My dad got to be a director in real Hollywood, for a good few years. And then, suddenly, I made enough money for us both to not have to work anymore. Everyone thought there was so much drama behind the reason why I didn’t work anymore or didn’t want to. But really my father and I just decided to spend the rest of our lives traveling together. We went to Fez, Spain, Iceland, Costa Rica, London, Canada, God, anywhere we wanted to. Until my dad was diagnosed with cancer when he was 50 and died the next year. The only thing I really regret is that my dad couldn’t love who he really loved in order to protect my name and my career. That and the fact that I didn’t get nearly enough time with him.”

Madison’s eyes welled up with sympathy. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Agnelli.”

“Please, call me Lily. And don’t feel sorry, it was a long time ago.” Lily looked out towards the sky with a sort of dreamy look. “I still think about him. Everyday. Every time I look at this mall. Where they bulldozed down my father’s dream. But I think, I realize now, that his real dream was just to see me happy.” Lily smiled.

“Did he get his wish?” Madison asked, quietly, almost to herself.“I think so. I mean, I never really wanted to be famous in the first place, I just wanted to do what I loved in that little theater a little while longer. And now I sit out here and watch the people go by. The theatre in Chicago still gives me free tickets to all their shows, you know,” Lily explained. 

“Well, thanks for sharing, Miss Agnelli,” Madison said.

Lily beamed. “Thank you for listening, and come back if you want more of the best tea you’ve ever had!”Madison couldn’t help but wonder if she meant this in the way of literal tea or the most interesting gossip she had ever heard, but she had to laugh. “Bye Lily!” she called. Lily smiled. “Bye Madison!”

Two weeks later, when Madison found out about the old woman’s death, she shed a few tears. “I better watch one of her movies today, to really remember her.” Just as Madison was about to do this and watch her debut movie, Mourning in Paris, on Netflix, she heard a rapping at the door.

“Hello?” she answered. Two short, fat men with overalls on handed her a piece of paper. “Ms. Madison Eloise Smith?” the one with the red hair spoke first. “Yes?” Madison answered. She looked down at the paper that she was handed, and there, written in scraggly but organized format were Lily’s words:

Dear Madison, I hope you really do know how much I appreciate you taking an interest in a washed-up old broad like me, and to show this, I’d like you to have my apartment and the rest of my fortune. It should be enough to allow you to do whatever you like for the rest of your life, and go wherever you like. It is close to 7 million dollars. 

Best wishes to you,

Lillian Agnelli

“Oh my God!” Madison cried and jumped up and down in excitement.

THE END.

Back when his mother was still alive, Wes could gaze at the sky without worrying about keeping the farm. His father said that his mother had come from a faraway magical land, and her runic abilities blessed the farm with good fortune. Once Wes started thinking about the past, he couldn’t stop unless he got busy. He sat up and shook his head. His stomach grumbled, but only rotten apples hung from the trees. Ever since his mother died, their farm had been ravaged by crows. These crows were a plague. They never left the farm, always pecking at the fruit and spoiling them. There I go again, Wes thought, and he jumped to his feet.

Lower in the valley but still in the orchard, there was a puddle between two trees. Wes sat on his knees and rolled up his sleeves. Sculpting the mud, his mind wandered back to a dream he had of the night before. He had sculpted once before, but his mother forbade him from doing it again. Suddenly disgusted, he shut his eyes and dropped the mud figure. It was getting late, so he headed back up the hill to the house.

That night, a storm came. Rain flooded the orchard, and lightning cracked down on the tree bells. In the dark, something changed.

The next day, Wes was strolling down the hill to the apple orchard when he heard the tree bells ringing. He looked up and saw a pack of crows swarming around one of the trees. It seemed as though they were attacking something, but the apple trees blocked his view. Wes thought this was strange behavior, as the crows weren’t scared of much and rarely left his father’s trees. His father had spent their wealth on various contraptions designed to scare the birds away, but the birds adapted to each new trap, net, or bell sold by the traders. Now he and his father had little to eat, but Wes was happy, since he no longer had to go to the school a few miles away, for his father had kept him home to help on the farm. 

As he reached the edge of the orchard, Wes stepped over abandoned nets and traps and peeked around the trees. A strange sight lay before him: electricity cracked in the air while the bells hung in the trees rang around him. The nets that covered the trees writhed as though they were snakes, biting out at nearby crows. A mountain of mud with limbs swung at the birds in the air, splattering mud that stuck the birds’ wings together. Each step shook the nearby trees, continually ringing the bells on the branches. By now, only a few birds remained in the air, the rest away to nurse their wings. Wes watched as the last of the crows gave up their assault and the giant mud creature turned around to face Wes. Wes quickly snapped his head back behind the tree, hoping the mud giant did not see him.

The giant spoke with a gravelly voice, and though it was in some unknown language, Wes could understand its meaning.

“Come here, little boy. I will do no harm, as I am an earth spirit raised by the powers of nature.”

Wes carefully poked his head back around the tree, just enough to see the mud giant’s gravelly mouth forming somehow familiar shapes as it spoke.

“It is my understanding that you have summoned me for the purpose of guarding this orchard. Until the magic bestowed in me runs out, I will protect these trees.”

Wes was confused at first. He didn’t know anything about magic. Or did he?

Knock knock. “Master, may I come in?” I say as I hit the dark oak wood of the head's office door.

“Come in,” he replies, “Ah! It’s wonderful to see you again, Blossom.” 

I mentally cringe at his open affection towards me and walk into his oddly dim office in the morning. I stand right in front of him while he sits behind his pink ivory and dark oak wood desk, copper trinkets and papers line his workspace.  

“I missed you, have you been busy lately? All of this alone time is making me feel lonely. Oh! I know how about you tell me what you have been doing recently, I am dying to know,” he says with a grin. 

I stand there for a moment to look at the dark amber paint and gold-patterned wallpaper that most visitors notice when they step into his domain. Almost every room has the color of his choosing: dark amber. Not to mention every room in this place screams wealth. Oak wood is his personal favorite and most of his furniture is commissioned to be that type of wood. His estate is a sight for sore eyes, even having bricked walls and large windows, which in his case is pretty impressive for someone who is the heir to corrupt nobles. I would normally like a place like this. However, the master that runs this place is as grimy as the others, worse than his own business partners, and that is saying something. I realize I have not been talking for a little too long so I speak up. 

“I wanted to inform you that the servants are fast at work doing what is needed to prepare your luxurious estate up to your standards,” I explain. “I have also told the cooks what they would need to be fixing for tonight's dinner. That would include fresh oysters from the local fishing docks earlier today, light potato soup, and roast lamb leg accompanied by an arrangement of roasted vegetables. Then for dessert, there will be green grape jello and queen cakes, and throughout the meal, there will be the finest wines to cleanse the senses. This meal is fit for a king.”

“Perfect, perfect, always such a good girl, keeping this place running when the master is hard at work with his business partners,” he says with a perverted glint in his eyes. Obviously not listen to what I had to say and only undressed me with his fat face, ugly wrinkles, and awful old man's breath.  

I can guess why this old fart is looking at me like that. That pervert can die for all I care, the way he makes all the women dress in extremely short skirts with lace ruffles embroidered on the ends. The uniform has colors of crimson, white, and shiny black. It also comes with expensive jewelry only an esteemed British noble would be able to afford, I think. 

“Of course, master, anything for you,” I say in a deep bow. “Now will you excuse me—”

I feel my forearm start to get tugged on, the fabric making a poomp sound. “Would you be a dearie and help me with some of my work?” Wooler says as he watches my taken-aback reaction.

“I—Of course, yes master,” I instantly say. Ugh, he knows fully that I am a busy woman, especially since I am the head maid, is all I could think about as I sigh and roll my eyes to myself. 

Constant work is always on my plate, always needed, always wanted: that is the basic requirement for the Wooler Head Maid. Yet, I find it funny that I have to subject myself to all this bossing around for a simple assignment. It’s not like I have to scratch around for a coin. I would say I am wealthier than this old fart could ever be. I should not complain since I was assigned this position to gather intel on Wooler’s movements and his disgusting business partners in England's underworld. I should have assumed this because I am a top agent at The Order of The Ethereal Light. 

For me, there are a huge number of ways I know to suck the information dry from this old fart but many other agents deem my ways to be “aggressive.” Whatever, I was told to build my rank and that was exactly what I did so no stopping now. All I know is that I am fooling all those around me and that I hoped for at the beginning. 

Finally, that took forever and that guy would not get off my back for a single moment, I grumble to myself as I head out from his office to go and check on the progress of the other workers. Again, I notice two pairs of eyes as I make my rounds. Tch. I will have to deal with these losers later, but I have to keep off this facade until later tonight after the guests leave and everyone is asleep, I think as a headache starts forming in the back of my head. 

Clunk Clunk Clunk. I quietly walk through the dark amber halls of the Wooler Estate. My mind is at peace with the hard day’s work behind me. However, my moment of peace is interrupted by the sound of black polished dress shoes walking almost silently behind me. This is so trivial. Can a girl like myself not get a second of time to herself? Do they think I’m an airhead? Assuming they don’t know I can hear them? I wonder if they knew I noticed them way earlier, I thought to myself. 

I stopped in my tracks not looking back. “You individuals can stop attempting to be inconspicuous. I know you are there.

“I find it honorable that you insignificant scums decided to bother me at 11:56 pm.

“I find it cute that you small fries assume I’m so stupidly dumb that I couldn’t sense you wandering around this estate since this morning.

“Or the fact you thought you could fool ME the head maid and walk around like you are new ignorant employees.” 

The silence was apparent for an agonizing 30 seconds before I heard one of the losers speaking up. With that, I change my gaze from the dark amber walls with a floral print and an old copper antique vase filled with gladiolus flowers to the intruders behind me.

“Ah! Head Maid, it is an honor to finally meet you,” the one with their hair parted on the right says as both start to bow, the rest of their bodies unmoving.

As I looked upon the two intruders dressed like butlers before me, I noticed both of them had dark brown hair, their parts on different sides, and fair skin. They couldn’t be any older than 17 or 18, I thought to myself as we all stood motionless. The moonlight that seeps from the big window with purple curtains on the right of me casts moonlight on the two of them making their eyes seemingly glow. They move to stand upright.

“My brother and I have been on a hunt for you all day! It seems you're a busy woman, especially since you are a part of the Order of The Ethereal. We know why you are really here, Belladonna!” the boy with the left part says as he does a creepy grin.

 I admit I am startled. That look is very familiar, the look of something unholy and crude. I knew at that moment they weren’t normal intruders. The first thought in my head was to kill. Kill those who try to get in the way of my ultimate goal. 

“I see, I see…well I hope you had a good day following me around because I am the last person you will be seeing alive,” I whisper.

I grab the dagger from my pocket and with a flick of my wrist, my dagger flies right between the eyes of the boy who had the left part. The kid slumps over with a thunk just missing the vase on the left of him.  

“How dare you!” the boy with the left part says in horror. 

At that moment he grabs a sword and lunges at me. I swiftly dodge his attacks making sure he was just inches away from me to mock him. Also ensuring he won't mess up the purple curtain, I start to sprint to the garden. As I run, I pass the well-decorated rooms of the estate. I hear a light pat pat of his shoes. I also hear his huffs and puffs as he struggles to catch up with me. 

“Get back here, you coward!” the boy yells.

We reach the garden and I dodge his moves, each swing of his sword cutting the bushes around me.

“Haha, getting so worked up for a pawn in your lousy gang, the Ticking Bomb,” I laugh as I avoid his relentless attacks that only seem to cut the bushes and tree leaves. 

“You witch! You trash from the Order of The Ethereal Light! Belladonna! This won’t be the last time you see me. Mark my words: the next time we meet I’ll kill you!” he screams.

“Aww, having a temper tantrum right before you meet your demise? How on earth do you think you can kill me when the only thing you did tonight was lose your brother and clean my garden up?” I remark as I start to cackle.  

At that moment his movements started to get quicker and more desperate as he cut some of the lush grass a little bit too short. 

“Stop moving around so much!” He screams and starts to tumble.

Swoosh— thpmpth. With a clear and precise stab to the side of his head, he drops to the ground. Red thick blood covers the assortment of flowers in the garden. Changing the one green grass into a puddle of blood. 

“You see, sir, all you did today was make me have another task to do in the middle of the night. I will say I loved the attempt and dance,” I say with a low chuckle.

My night continues as I clean up the mess from earlier, making sure all the furniture and blood are cleaned off from the Wooler Estate grounds. The blood ruined the rug in the hallway of the west wing, but I am able to find an exact replacement. I even polish all the copper in every hallway to make sure all the copper vases look the same. I must make sure no one could discover what I am here for. None of the current higher-ups must get suspicious. It is too early for others to find out why I am so dedicated. Dedicated to taking the agency for myself and bestowing the leadership through my own hands.

The woman awakes with a start. Gasping for air as if she was just drowning. She then looks over at where I am. Tears well up in her eyes. 

“Doctor! Doctor! She’s awake! Oh my goodness, my baby is awake!” 

Baby? Who is this lady calling her baby?

Doctors rush in with all sorts of equipment. The lady who was next to me was crying and trying to hold my hand. I can get a good look at her from here now. She has dark heavy eye bags. Her honey blonde hair is in a messy bun and she’s wearing a stained shirt and sweatpants. She looks like a crazy lady. 

As people in white check on my pulse, I take a good look at my surroundings. I’m in a room with plain white walls covered with flowers and gifts. The flowers look like they’ve been dead for a while. The people in blue are moving my head side to side, up and down, and asking me questions. They are taking in every detail of my face. 

By the time they are done, more people are in the room. And even more tears. I get hugs from strangers every time a new one comes in. A doctor comes in and clears the room.

“I have to give her a screening,” he says calmly. The strangers slowly trickle out one by one, each giving me a sympathetic look. 

“Let’s start with some pretty easy questions,” the man in white says.

I nod slowly. 

“Okay, so what is your name?” he says with a questionable look.

“Uhm I—” I stutter.

Take your time, no rush,” he assures me. After five minutes of silence, I finally say something.

“ I—I don’t know,” I choke. 

Why am I crying?

“That's ok. Do you at least know what year it is?” His face has concern written all over it.

“Uhm… no,” I say questioning what I just said. He asks about a hundred more questions. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up. I watch as he exits the room heading for the woman from earlier. He says something I can’t quite understand. As soon as he says those words though, the lady breaks down. A man walks up next to her hugging her as she cries. The woman then starts walking towards my room. I look at her questioning her next move.

“Oh my God…” she says, holding back tears. She moves to hug me but I move away. That seems to upset her more and now she’s crying again. 

“ My sweet Raya…” she chokes.

Who’s that? Why does my brain hurt?

My head starts throbbing. And I wince from the pain. The lady notices it and yells for people. The people rush in and roll me out of the room. 

The pain gets worse as we move. I hug my knees to my chest hoping it would help. It only makes it worse. As we pull into a new room with even brighter lights, I hear footsteps behind me. I hear the doors shut. A mask is pulled over my mouth. And the world goes black.

I wake up to the sound of laughing—a child’s laughter. 

Strange…

My eyes open to a warm glow. I’m in a child's room. There are toys all over the floor. A giggling child suddenly runs by me. A larger woman follows her slowly. Huge smiles spread up to both of their cheeks.

I feel like I’ve seen this woman before. I just can’t put my finger on it.

I start to stand up and realize the throbbing pain in my head is no longer there. 

Where am I?

I begin walking and then step on a stuffed train. 

I’ve seen this before.

As soon as I pick it up, the woman and the child come back into the room. I have forgotten they even left. The child is running straight towards me. I try to move out of the way but I’m too late. I expect to be run into, but the child just walks right through me. I stare at them. What the hell…?

The doorbell rings, startling all of us. As I walk to the door, a small boy opens it. It makes me jump a little. 

“Oh! Raya!” the woman says.

That name… I’ve heard that name before.

“Noah’s here!” She yells to the small girl.

Another name that I recognize…

The small boy runs through the door to the small girl. They give each other a big hug like they haven’t seen each other in years. I feel a warm brush against my skin. I look over and see that the boy is rubbing the girl's arm. 

The world goes black again.

I’m in a different room this time. And I’m with that boy again. 

Noah? Yeah, I think that's his name.

We are both outside playing in a treehouse. I look over my shoulder and see a couch. With the same stuffed train on it. 

“Raya! Noah! Lunch is ready!” a voice yells.

The two children look at each other with mischievous grins. 

“Wanna race?” Noah asks, smirking.

“Ready…Set…” The girl smiles.

“GO!” they both say in unison. His honey-blonde hair bounces as they run. He has this blissful look in his brown eyes. His freckles look like they’re dancing.

When we all get to the house the two kids are out of breath. Their chests heaving. And they give each other that look again. I feel warm inside my stomach. And I can feel myself smiling. As I’m about to sit down at the table, the world goes black again.

Another room. Same guy. But this time he’s kissing the girl. They are on the bed holding each other as if they are dying. I feel warm all over. I want to cover up and hide myself from this. It feels like I’m invading their privacy. 

“Knock, knock. I’m coming in Raya,” a female voice says as I go to open the door.

Their eyes are a mix of horror and excitement. They immediately stop and scoot away from each other. The lady from lunch walks in, smirking. 

“Now what were you two doing up here? I told you doors open at all times.” The lady says, hands on her hips. 

“Oh my God, mom! Just leave!” The girl rolls her eyes. The boy laughs. Then the girl elbows him in the stomach. 

“Now be nice, Raya.” the lady says.

Mom?

The door shuts and everything goes dark.

Great.

This time I’m not even in a room. I’m in a car.  A boy who looks like Noah is driving, but I still feel warm inside. The girl is in the seat next to him. They’re holding hands and she’s looking at him with so much love in her eyes. 

“I love you so much—” She turns her head to see massive headlights.  “WATCH OUT!” she yells. 

She grabs the wheel and yanks it. But it’s too late. The glass shatters. Airbags deploy. Blood splatters on the seats. Darkness... 

I’m back in the room with the bright lights. The same woman next to me. And then I remember. That girl. That girl was me. And the lady next to me. That’s my mom.

“Mom..?” I whimper. The woman looks right at me with a shocked look in her eyes.

“Raya….” She whispers. 

“Oh my god, Raya!” She screams. She comes running to the side of my bed giving me a huge hug. 

“Mom?!”

“Yes, sweetie?” she says, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Where’s Noah?! Is he ok?!” I say worriedly. 

“He’s fine, sweetie. Just fine. He’s right outside the door. Do you want to see him?” she asks. 

I nod my head quickly. I look over my shoulder and find that same stuffed train. Pulling it to my chest, I give it a tight squeeze. Mom gets up and opens the door. A boy walks in. But it's not him….

My body goes rigid. This isn’t the boy I fell in love with. This isn’t him. He has warm eyes. This man’s eyes are cold and dark. I try to tell my mom that this isn’t Noah, but nothing comes out. The man comes up to hug me and I back away quickly. My mom’s face goes pale.

“What’s the matter, Raya?” There is worry in her voice as she speaks

“I think she just needs some time alone with me, probably embarrassed with you here.” A forced smirk merged on his lips. I try to stop my mom from leaving but it’s too late. I look at him, rage growing in his eyes as soon as the door shuts. 

“You thought you could get away from me, Raya,” he says in a harsh whisper. 

What does he mean to get away?

“Escaping with my brother. You know, I thought you were the one, but they always fall for the brother. Always.” His voice is slowly getting louder.

“What did you do to him?” I say, finally getting the courage to speak. I can feel his eyes searching my face, but I refuse to look at him.

“He’s fine. He’s still my brother, after all, he’s just learning his lesson.” He says, lifting my chin so I’m forced to look at him. His eyes are dancing with anger. A smirk forms on his face as he sees how scared I am. 

“You should have known better than to leave me Raya. I will always find you.” Rage fills my lungs as he says the words. A single tear rolls down my cheek. 

“Noah, just tell me if he’s ok. We can get back together. Everything can go back to the way it was. Please,” I choke.

“It’s too late for that now, Raya. But let me tell you what you are going to do. You are going to pretend you love me if you want Owen to stay alive. Got it?” he says, gripping onto my chin. I nod quickly.

“Good. Now I’m going to go get your mom, and you follow my orders,” he says heading for the door. I nod again. When he opens the door, I plaster a smile on my face. Pretending whatever happened before never did.

I have bright blue eyes and pin-straight long blonde hair, which is very rare where I live and I get a lot of compliments because of it. Mrs. Fritzerman especially loves to tell me how “gorgeous” I am and that I'm so very lucky.

I am 29 now and I’ve moved away from home, to Brooklyn NY which is where I've always dreamed of living. When I first moved up here at 19 years old for college it wasn’t the “dream” I had in mind, but I've grown to love the city.

Halfway through college, I got too stressed and I didn't feel like I was learning anything anymore so I decided to drop out. I still made lots of friends who I have to this day, although it’s not the same anymore… 

My friends got involved into a bad group of people over the years… 

and so have I.
At first, we just wanted to steal some drinks. Then it was hundreds of dollars of clothes, and then it got serious and we started robbing banks. I would be so disappointed, but I'm okay with this. I am still scared if I get caught. However, I like to live a rich life and never know what could happen next. 

We had planned to steal a red beryl necklace that belongs to the Princess of Charlemagne, and it is worth $245,000. 

Today is September 17th. We planned to steal the necklace from the king's Palace, at the party on October 1st, the new princess's birthday. 

We need to be prepared. We are making a fake necklace with very realistic fake jewels that we will plant on the stand after taking the real one. This is so we have time to escape, hopefully to another state.

                                     October 1st

                                        ……………………….

The party started at 3 pm, and it was 4 pm when we arrived. We walk through the gate and into the mansion. 

My best friend Ashley and I go on a little tour of our own to scan the area of people and security guards, where the doors are, and where the room with the necklace is. Now that we know where to go and how to proceed, we tell the others in our earpieces as they are watching on the security cameras.

There is a distraction planned to happen any minute now, for a fight to break out  between two of our men getting into a fist fight, in the ballroom which is a few rooms away.  When that begins, we watch the security guards running away, we put our ski masks and gloves on, and then Ashley proceeds to unlock the door with her special key tool. As we enter, we see it is a pretty small room, only meant for the most expensive jewelry to be protected. The red beryl necklace is in the center of the room in an enclosed glass case. I walk over to it and cut a hole in the glass with my laser pen. It falls out perfectly, I quickly switch out the real necklace for the fake one. I want to take the other jewelry as well, Like the beautiful baby blue colored gem within a bracelet sitting in the corner, which is stunning. But I know we don't have enough time.

I put the necklace into my purse and we exit the room cautiously after we are told by the earpieces it is safe to come out. We take off our masks and gloves and throw them away in a restroom garbage bin. The fight is still being pulled apart as we are walking out. When we get to the street and behind some trees and we are sure it is safe, we sprint to the van around the corner and drive off.

After many breaks and a couple of car swaps, we finally made it to Maine which was our destination. We pull up to one of our mutual friend's houses who is letting us stay at her place while she is in Africa living her best life.

Ashley grabs the key from under the 3rd gnome to the right and we go inside. Charley, who is one of my best friends from college, starts doing his thing, taking the jewels out of the necklace and making it into smaller jewelry like rings, earrings, or bracelets.

We will take it all to the pawn shop tomorrow.

The next morning we go to the pawn shop, and as we walk in, I am shocked to see Mrs. Fritzerman standing behind the counter, counting her change. I try to hide behind some old chairs I find in the shop, but Charley tells me I'm acting weird and he pulls me in front of him heading to the counter. I'm hoping that she won't recognize me right now. The last time she saw me I was about 11 years old, so she shouldn't know who I was. 

I walk up near the counter and the very second she looks at me I can see something in her eyes has clicked. She begins to look at me every chance she gets while still talking to Ashley about the jewelry, trying to figure out where she knew me from. Then she realized. She interrupts Ashley immediately to say, “Is that you, Clara?”  

“Y-yes it is, Mrs. Fritzerman,” I respond. But I can't handle it, and I run out the door to hopefully never see her again. I don't want to disappoint her. I'm done with this kind of life. I'm going to be better…

There were Air flowers that floated down from the trees that could make you fly. Fire flowers were found buried deep in caves and gave the user flames. Water, life, earth, death, light, and anything in between grew in the forest. But you couldn’t glean the powers just from picking them. You had to crush them into potions or elixirs. 

Either way this forest was renowned for its powerful forest, Many wizards and witches passed through the town to pick the flowers. At the many stores and Inns were in the village, some passersbys will set up shop themselves

“Could you please try again, Nix?” A short woman with puffy brown hair tripped over herself to keep up with a tall wizard. The town square buzzed around them, pushing them to hurry. Nix huffed and pulled his black beard in a nervous tick. 

“I’m sorry, Rose, I just can’t find anything,” Nix started with a long exhale. “I really am sorry that I can’t help. But I’ve got to start on my own potions while I can still be here.” The two broke through the crowd and he opened the double swing doors that led into the Drunken Beagle Inn and Bar, a place Rose had known all her life. The inside was quiet compared to the outside but hummed with a steady beat of conversation. Many mages would stop by bars or shops right before they headed into the evergreen forest, so establishments like this were always busy.

Rose followed Nix’s tail when he started up to his room. “I paid you to make me a potion that could bring me my dad back!” She hissed, waving her finger in his face. She had seen many mages come and go through the town, some leaving with loved ones who hadn’t come in with them. She knew bringing back someone from the dead was possible.

Rose’s father, Abraham, had been ailing for months before his death. She had tried everything in his sickness to help him, paying many doctors and witches alike to heal him. The doctors said he couldn’t be helped, and the witches said they couldn’t work around a curse that strong. Rose had no idea how her father could’ve gotten cursed. He was endlessly kind and worked hard like anyone else in the village. Rose would hear him mumbling about “the thing with the golden flowers,” though she could hardly know what he meant.

Almost two weeks after his death, his daughter has still worked to bring him back, asking any traveler who gives her a sideways glance to look for a flower that can bring someone back.

Nix has been the third person she has asked, and now the third one to throw up his hands. 

“And I told you that such a thing doesn’t exist.” Nix unlocked his door, Room 4, and skirted inside. He pulls the door shut and turns to Rose. “I don’t care what you saw. People can’t come back from the dead. I can’t help you anymore.” His sad blue eyes gazed at her and he shuffled in his navy blue cloak pockets. “Please take your money back. I didn’t help at all.” 

Rose hung her head. “It’s ok, Nix, please keep the money for the trouble I gave you.”  She knew that she couldn’t keep him here any longer. Despair pooled cold and heavy in her gut, her father was her only rock and the only thing that mattered and now he was gone. She wouldn’t ever hear his laugh again or his complaints that Ms. Stearns still hadn’t paid her tab.

“Rose?” The caramel black haired hand of nix landed on my shoulder. “I think it’s time to recognize that…” Nix trailed off but squeezed my shoulder in a comforting manner. “Please take at least half back?” He asked hesitantly, and not waiting for my answer he pulled a string of gold coins from the leather pouch I had given him. His hand slid from my shoulder and I held my palm open to take the coins. The coins felt cool in my palm and jiggled lightly. Nix closed his hand around the coins in my hand and shook it lightly. “Goodbye Rose.” 

His door shuts quietly and I let out a sigh. The laughter and loud conversation drifted up from under the floorboards and seemed to make the hall even more empty. I rattle the coins in my hand and stuff them into the front of my apron and rub my hands down my red corset.  Preparing myself for the hours on my feet, I adjust my steel-toed dark brown boots. 

As I walk I rub my hands down my face, trying to stop the stinging of new tears and the heaviness of my eyes. The noise grows louder as I walk down the stairs, and I can hear the call of drink orders and the raucous laughter of drunk men.

“Rosey! There you are!” A smoke-addled throaty voice from Gregory Beagle shouted. He had taken over the business of the Drunken Beagle after my father died. I don’t know him that well but when I was younger he would visit. He’s my father’s younger brother but says that Uncle Greg ages him so he insists I call him Buddy like everyone else. He is stationed behind the bar and waves a polished beer mug at me.

“Hey Buddy. Do you need me to take any orders?” I ask, walking over and leaning in to talk to him. A roar erupts from the bar, an arm wrestling competition most likely.

“Yes, if you could take this to table…uhh—. “ He checks the notepad beside his hand. “Table 3.” He nods proudly and hands me a plate piled with turkey legs. Taking it calmly, I shift it onto my shoulder and peddle to table 3. It’s full of a solemn group of rugged men with clubs, but they seem to light up when they see the plate piled high with their food.

After a round of thanks from the men I head back to my uncle. He greets me with a smile but continues to take a skinny rogue's drink order. My skirts furl around the barstool when I take a seat close to Buddy. 

He comes over a second later. “We should be okay right now, the chef is making a new round of bread rolls so get ready for that in a minute.” He moved up on his elbows beside me and comically leaned over the bar to meet my eyes that were staring listlessly over the bar's customers. “Who was that man? Someone incite your wrath?” he joked.

“No, just another mage with no answers.” I sigh and turn to the bar to rest my chin in my hand. Buddy gives a low hum, an annoyed sound. He had never liked mages and the fact that my father died from a curse didn’t help his distaste. He kept it mostly to himself, as most of his clients were mages. 

“Humph, if you ask me, you’re just wasting your money.” Buddy huffed but moved to the other end of the bar to get some knights’ food order. Then I hear the bar chef announce the new bread rolls and get to work.

After a flurry of cheering tables I reach my last one to give the new bread rolls to Table 18. My arrival is met with thanks and as I move around plates and take some away I hear their conversation. 

“Did you ever hear about the creature in the woods?” a dark-skinned smith asked his tablemates. I had, of course, heard of such a thing, as living somewhere your whole life lets you hear the crazy theories. “Its name is Mors, Death. And he prowls the forest, guarding the more powerful flowers with his huge claws and teeth.” The smith holds his hands up menacingly and bares his teeth in a growl, much to the amusement of his friends. “It’s said that the most rare flowers grow upon its back and that you must slay it to pick them.” The table hums appropriately in interest. “The flowers are an enchanting yellow hue that blends into the ghoulish yellow eyes all over the creature.” Even I find myself waiting for his next words. I hadn’t heard this part of the rumor yet. “The flowers are rumored to turn back time, and that they can even bring back the dead.” The group of friends busted out with good-natured gasps of awe and chuckles.

Now that sounds like something I want. “Excuse me sir? Would you go get me that flower if I paid you well?” I feel awful waving my money but there is a really good reason for it.

The smith looks at me oddly and his buddies snicker. “Sorry kid, I’m not going to risk my life to get you something you could risk your own life for.” He smirks jokingly, playing it up for his friends. 

Though that was obviously a snide comment, it gave me an idea. Why don’t I get It myself? It would certainly be cheaper and I would know that I was doing all that could be done. Excusing myself from the table, my feet rush over to Buddy’s bar again. 

“Hey Buddy? Can I have the rest of the day off?” I say excitedly, leaning heavily on the bar counter. Buddy seems surprised but altogether happy. I hadn’t asked for time off for weeks. The last time I had time off was my father’s funeral. 

“Of course, Rosey!” He boisterously shouted, “Take all the time you need!” With that I ran up the stairs to our family room. It was the biggest in the inn and it was where I had grown up. Sometimes it’s painful to look at the empty room where my father would stay. My uncle has refused to move into his brother's old room yet mostly from the grief and respect he holds for his older brother. 

The room doesn’t bother with a kitchen or bathroom, as we have many downstairs, so we have lots of room for beds and couches. We have no central theme, just a bunch of comfortable chairs around a fireplace.

I stumble into my room and start to pack. It’s early morning now, Nix having just come back from a night trip into the forest, so I had plenty of day to head into the forest myself. I start to pack, pull up my hair and put a pair of pants on under my skirt and take my apron off.

My eye catches on the silver hair pin my father had given me for my last birthday. I add that to my hair just for good luck. Solidifying my reason for the excursion I head down to the kitchen to grab a couple weapons. 

The sun shines bright over the town of Merlin's Glen and the people rush about in the early morning. Not much later than earlier this morning Rose Beagle walks through the square and down the path to the main entrance of the forest.

A smooth current of people flow in and out of the gate, some clutching their prizes and others whispering to their partners their game plans. Rose walks with purpose one foot in front of the other with her head held high. She refuses to be seen as incompetent to any one around her.

There is a gate into the forest, where mages coming in and out stop by. It was long implemented after many disappearances of people who go into the forest. People would sign into a magical book and pen, leaving their name and the estimated time they will spend in the forest. They also mark on their arm with the pen, this allows a tracking system connected with the book when needed. If the witch or wizard stays in the forest longer than they said the ink will glow yellow in warning and the gatekeeper will alert other mages in the town. 

There is no police force in a town this small, but a search patrol of knights, other mages, and villagers will form to rescue the person. Additionally, the ink will turn a menacing blood red if its writer dies though the tracking system still works the same. The mages coming back just sign out and rub the ink off with special cloth. Otherwise it won’t come off.

Rose comes to a halt in front of the book and quickly scrawls her name and her estimated time: 8 hours. She draws a short line on the back of her left hand and moves into the forest.

The trees seem to arch darkly like those gothic church ceilings above me. Even just inside the forest, light seems to recede giving the forest a foreboding feeling. My left hand holds on to the straps of my pack while my right grabs for the oil lamp I’d hung. 

Lighting it shortly I then head forward with the rest of the hushed crowd, seemingly quiet with reverence for the powers residing in the forest. 

There are several signs down the main path pointing down others, some for healing flowers or earth flowers and the odd case of a “meat flower,” whatever that means. 

But I head steadily down the path, the crowd trickling down to only one or two other people. It feels strange to be alone. I was so used to the company of people in my everyday life I forgot how lonely being alone could be.

At last I made it to the end of the main path. The smaller ones had tapered off long past but now it truly felt like I was deep enough for there to still be mystery. Nix had told me his planned path a couple days ago, after we had exhausted the other patches that could possibly rescue my dad from death's clutches. He planned to push through the tree line at the very back and head due east for a while. Which was where I was right now, so I stepped into the dark trees and turned right. 

The forest echoed with bird calls and leaves rustling in the wind. Sun poured through in golden streams of light between the trees' large canopies. In the quiet it seemed almost peaceful instead of threatening.

Nix had also created a plan so he didn’t just go straight using these glowing stones he called wayfinders. They would leave a residue on your hand that could pull you back to the stone after you utter the words “adducere me ad petram”. I reach into my backpack and pull a glowing blue stone.

This would allow me to go and properly explore the forest in its full glory. The azure blue left a shining and crusty chalk residue all over my right palm. The flora glows and shimmers in the dark shade of the trees and some even reflect the lights from my lamp and my palm. 

Setting it down where the grass was short and carving the dirt behind it into an arrow pointing back to the main path, I headed out into the sprawling forest with a set-in-stone plan. 

Rose finds many things in her search. A huge pink lined venus flytrap poses to strike at the sky that she serves around. She nearly falls into a cave full of lava-hot fire flowers and resolves to better watch the ground in front of her. A small door opens at the roots of a tall and sprawling tree that she jumps back from, having heard the awful stories of the people who angered fae.

Only she didn’t find anything relating to this Mors creature. It has been almost five hours now and she only has so much oil for her lamp. 

It’s been hours and I still have nothing! I thought bitterly, suddenly understanding the frustration of the people I had been nagging to find these flowers for me. My oil canister was close to empty, but if I head back now I’d be okay. My arm swinged wide as I turned to go back to Nix’s glowing stone but the light caught on something in the bushes.

Eyes.

A cluster of bright yellow eyes. I froze with my arm reaching out towards the thing, the oil lamp teetered back and forth. The eyes followed the light as it swung like a pendulum daunting and slow in front of me. My breath came out shuttering and loud in the silence, a monster was feet in front of me. A scream ripped out of my throat and I dropped the lamp, extinguishing the low light. My feet ran away fast and I looked over my shoulder as a loud low groan echoed through the trees. The sight of a hulking creature standing from its rest greeted me.

The thing was huge standing as tall as the trees around it, and sprawling tall antlers likened to lightning struck out at odd angles from its head. And the eyes. They covered every inch of the thing glowing a ghoulish and sickly yellow. Each had its gaze trained upon me, following my foot falls and staring me in my own eyes. Long gnarled roots stick from its face like crude imitations of teeth and hanging sharp from its fingers are claws of the same material.

Fear courses through my whole body and I nearly forget about the stone. It would bring me back way faster than I could run, and I would surely lose the beast. Reassured of my plan I say the words, “Adducere me ad petram.”I have forgotten where the rock was, realizing too late that it is behind me--in the same direction as the creature's. Another scream ripped from me as I was thrown backwards.

The last thing I saw was the claws of the thing reaching out towards me as it almost went cross-eyed to keep its eyes on me. Then in the rush my eye caught something yellow. Not the sick yellow of the eyes but a beautiful sunset yellow that seemed to come from its upper chest.

A harsh thud of my head knocking against the thing finally took my consciousness.

“Rose!”

“Rosemary, can you hear us?”

“You head that way, I’ll take this path. Rose!”

“Rosey! Please come out!”

“Rose!”

I woke up with a pounding headache. The setting sun's rays break through the tree leaves to pour into my eyes. Wincing from the bright light, I feel as though my brain rings with loud bells. Then suddenly my vision is covered by a shadow with glowing blue hands. The figure leans in and suddenly a very concerned caramel face comes into view, bordered by black hair. In my state I can’t recognize him but feel like I should.

“She’s here!” The man shouts, and a group of stomping feet make their way over. The voice finally reminds me of his name.

“Nix…?” My voice comes out hoarse but the figure leans in again. As my vision comes back, I’m greeted by the most worried looking Nix I’ve ever seen. Several heads join him in gazing over me, and I feel a hand on my arm looking for wounds. “My head…” 

“Yes, it’s me,” Nix said absentmindedly. “Can someone please check her head?” As he says that, a hand pushes under my head and lifts it off the ground. My vision spins again from the motion and a groan slips from my lips. “Does she have a concussion?” I hear Nix ask nervously.

“No blood,” says someone behind me. “Hold up the lantern so I can see her eyes.” A shining lantern comes from somewhere on the right side of me and is pushed close to my face. A woman I don’t recognize bends in close and pulls my right eye open to look at my pupils closely. 

After a moment she announces, “She’s alright! Just needs some rest.” And a relieved sigh makes its way out of every mouth in the area. “Can someone please alert her uncle?”

Nix shoots up and activates his wayfinder stone with a couple uttered words and takes off. He’s much better at dodging around obstacles than I am… wait.

“Where is it?!” I shout hysterically. “The monster! I was just in its grasp!” The people around me give each other nervous glances and check the trees around us. 

“Sorry, we don’t see anything,” the same woman as before says and smooths a lock of my hair off my face. “Does anything hurt?” She pulls out a stick from my hair. A voice from the distance is shouting loudly, and I know who it is almost immediately.

“ROSEY! Oh thank god, you're ok!” My uncle's loud throaty voice calls to me before I am almost tackled by him. He falls to his knees and grabs my shoulders leaning me this way and that. Nix follows behind him, and gives me an apologetic look for the shaking.

“Let go of me! I’m fine, Buddy,” I shouted, annoyed. The shaking wasn’t helping my headache at all. He scoops me up and tucks me into his chest whispering how glad he was that I was okay.

Nix hovers by my uncle's elbow looking down at my face, “Just relax, we’ll get you home.” 

I nod and lean my forehead against my uncle's chest, the faint smell of smoke and beer wafts in my nose. 

The silent moment allows a thought to pour into my head, How am I alive? Why didn’t that thing kill me? I lift my chin onto my uncle’s shoulder to look around behind him. And like I suspected, a suspiciously shaped bush seems to be curled up where I was picked up from. After a second more, a yellow silver of its eye peaks open but immediately shuts when it sees me looking. 

I don’t feel afraid, just confused, then my eye catches on the sunset yellow flowers covering its back. My mind flicks back to the story in the bar. This monster is Mors and those are the flowers I need. 

“Buddy, look at the monster! It has the flowers I need!” I tug on my uncle's sleeves and he turns around.

“I don’t see anything Rosey. We need to go home,” he says sternly. He pulls me close and marches off. Nix seems to stare directly at Mors but he doesn’t see what I do and starts after my uncle again. I am too tired to keep my eyes open anymore, so my eyes slide shut. But not before catching the slow creeping bush moving after us. 

“Buddy, I didn’t sneak anywhere! You let me go!” I shout at my uncle. After I woke up, he had started to chew me out for not telling him where I was going.

“Do you know how scared I was?! We just lost your father to magic! The whole reason he was cursed was because he went into that damn forest!” Buddy had tears threatening to fall, and he smoothed his hand over the bottom of his face. “You’re grounded, okay? Just for a little bit. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.” 

I couldn’t believe this, he was going to lock me in my damn room like a child!? “You're not my dad dammit!” I seethe and slam my bedroom door harshly. His muffled voice might say that that was just the problem here. 

Sitting on my bed I stuff my head into my hands and groan into them. The noise seems to be eaten by the silence of my bedroom. I had been so close too, I could get my father back If I could only find that thing again.

A loud scratching sound comes from my window and I start violently. What could reach up to the second floor? A sinking feeling consumes me, It must have followed me home. The scratching comes again and I make the decision to check. It could be nothing, just a branch I hadn't noticed before. 

When I fling open my curtains I am greeted by something I’d rather not have been. Five yellow eyes peer up at my window and its long antlers reach the window, moving with each breath it takes. Somewhere in my mind, I am suprised that this creature is breathing, but I am mostly in shock. 

“What the hell”  was the most eloquent thing I could think to say at that moment. Seriously? Me, of all people? I haven’t done anything to deserve this! I promise I’m not that much of a prick.

But… it doesn’t seem to be violent. It just sits and gazes up at me like a puppy who's just found home. Its many eyes look up at me in reverence. It tilts his head at my words bringing his long antlers over the window with a grating noise.

I wince at the noise and stupidly shoot out my hand to stop the noise. The birch antlers felt more likened to tree branches than anything else. The smooth antlers slip past my hands like cool flames. The thing seems to freeze in my hand and gaze up at me in trepidation.

“Uh. Hello?” I say, looking accusingly at the creature. It lets out a low hum in response. “Hi.” I let out a disbelieving chuckle. He hums again and grabs onto the window sill below mine to pull himself up.

“Uh! No no no!” I whisper-shout. “Please don’t come up here.” The thing seemed to huff and fell back to the ground with a padded thump. The creature seems to be very annoyed by my resistance. 

All at once the memory of the beautiful yellow flower on his comes back to me. I lean out of the window and catch sight of them again. They glow lightly and sway in the wind, almost inviting me closer. 

“I’ll come down to you,” I whisper and pull back from my window. After pumping myself up I leap from the window recklessly at the creature.

It seems to shout in shock just before I smack into its face causing it to grumble and snort wildly.

Its long claws come around my waist and pull me off. Several yellow eyes blink rapidly trying to adjust to the weight that mussed their vision. They adjust and focus on me with a mild glare of annoyance.

“Sorry?” I smile nervously. Its scoff hits my face like a gust of wind as it sets me down. Gazing up at it now makes my skin crawl, seeing all its eyes locked onto me and its body blocking all the moonlight. The warm glow of the roots of the flower up on his back filtering through his chest gives me a hopeful feeling. The golden roots dig into its chest and fractal throughout its body. The roots shift with its breath and beat with its black heart, that is beating between the roots of its chest.

“Why are you here?” I ask. It seems very unlikely that it would follow me without reason. And an awful thought appeared at the back of my mind, What if it’s here to kill me? It seems to think hard and its eyes each give off a sad look. It points towards my father’s window, urging me to understand. 

“You knew my father?” I ask, much too loudly for the quiet night I'm trying to hide in. I look around for a person that could’ve heard me but am met with the dark shadows of moonlight. Mors nods its head in a quick jerk and spins on its heels to offer his back. My face lights up with the glow and my happiness that he would give me one. My greedy hands snatch the flower and tug. Mors lets out a pained noise and shakes me off with a growl. It turns back to me again with accusing eyes. 

Its face reminds me of another part of the smith's story, that the creature must be dead to use the flower properly. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” I say, awfully guilty. My hands wave in front of me to placate the creature.

It huffs again and points back to my father’s room but then opens his hands like a book and pretends to flip through the pages. I realize it must be asking for something in my father’s room. 

Turning around again I now can see that he is offering his back so I could climb back up to my father’s window. I nod my head and carefully climb up, making sure to mind the sensitive flower on his back. 

In my father’s room I rifle through his desk for a book. He’d never been one to read but I know he kept a journal. My search produces a well-loved bound notebook with pages of loose paper spilling out of its sides. I flick through it non committedly until my eyes snag on the name “Mors” and I start to actually read the page.

I went to see Mors again tonight. After what he could tell me last night, I was able to find a spell that could be strong enough to reverse what happened to him. The fae are watching me as I walk to him, they are snickering and laughing. I hope they are happy for what they did to that poor boy but he won’t be like this for much longer.

Nix, the poor sod, was convinced to make this potion for me. But that's what he gets for being my friend and being a wizard. 

I’ve become nervous these fae are not leaving me, they are hovering over me and I cannot say for how much longer I can hide my fear. 

I want to write this for those who read it to know that the creature, Mors, was human and he needs help. He was cursed, as I fear I will be as well. His name is Caine Huntsman, he was a lumber worker and cut down the wrong tree and paid dearly for it. Please help him, no one deserves th–

The text cuts off with a huge ink blot on the paper and my hands shake as my eyes catch on the creature—the man—outside waiting for me. And I realize I must make a decision. Either I can heal this man with whatever potion my father wanted to use, or I must kill him to gain my father’s life back. I lose a life either way.

My mind breaks in half, both merciless in their arguments. 

It's my father! Of course I chose him!

How would your father feel after you sacrificed the life he was trying to save for his?

I don't know! He's currently dead because he tried just that!

Your father lived a long life, but this boy hasn’t been allowed to even begin. Make the right and moral decision, we cannot be selfish in this moment.

Look what being selfless means! A death sentence, I am not going to give my father’s life to this random man. Make the right choice!

My head spins and my visions become focused again as I see an old picture of my father and my long-deceased mother. My mind flashes to a house of clouds in an endless summer day where they can be together again and I come to a decision. It was my father’s last wish, and it would be unfair to go against it.

The door creaks open and my uncle's snores fill the silence. My socked feet slide quietly past him and I squeeze through the door. The bar is still humming with the steady drivel of men long gone. I can hear the night bartender working his cocktail shaker with a sharp rattle of ice. At room four's door I knock rapidly and loudly. 

“Nix! I have something I have to ask you!” I hiss at the brown door, pounding my fist. The stumble of a person just woken from a deep sleep comes from behind the door. Several things are knocked over, at least going from what I hear, before he reaches the door.

“Rose? What…” A large yawn escapes his mouth. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you grounded?” His normally smooth hair is rumpled unflatteringly and a telling pillow crease covers most of his right cheek. His navy cloak is tied hastily around his neck.

I immediately got to business, “My father asked you to make a potion for him a couple of days before he got sick right?” At Nix’s confused nod, I continue my questioning. “How long did it take you? Can you make me one right now?” I was rather worried that he would take days for this potion and that I might run the risk of the fae taking notice as well.

“Well, it took me almost a week to make it.” No! “But since I know your father was—not to speak ill of the dead, of course!- extremely clumsy, I made extras.” Yes! “But why would you need something like a fairy transformation curse antidote this strong anyway?” Nix seems to have finally woken up fully and his eyes flood with concern. “Is this about your father again? Please, Rose,” he starts but I cut him off swiftly.

“No! It isn’t about my father, I promise. I actually need it to help me move on. I’ve decided that you're right and I can’t pretend that he’ll come back any longer.” The words seem final even in the half truth and my head hangs low. Two arms reach out and wrap around my shoulders tightly. Nix’s cloak comes around me like a mourning shroud.

Nix says nothing but I understand, I’m proud and I’m sorry. I feel some tears drip from my eyes but I wipe them away and clear my throat. “The potion, please, Nix?” I say thickly.

He nods and backs away into his dark room, and I hear a string of curses after he stubs his toe a light flickers on. Nix has been on a long-term quest for many summers, taking Room 4 each time. It’s very cluttered with books and glowing flowers sprinkled amongst potion bottles and the like.

Nix comes back shortly after my glimpse into the room and shoves a red potion into my hands.”Be careful with this Rose, it’s very strong,” Nix warns seriously, though it is rather hard to be intimidated by his horrible bedhead.

I snatch the potion and shout, “Thank you!” over my shoulder as I rush down the stairs into the Drunken Beagle. The bar is in full swing and I have to dodge through many people.

Ripping through the door a gust of cold wind blows my hair and seeps into my socks. Mors meets me at my window again and looks excited to see me. I hold up the potion triumphantly and he dashes over to reach for the bottle, taking it into his hands.

His claws fumble with it so much that I snatch it back so he doesn’t break it open on the ground. Mors makes a sound of protest but kneels down so I can reach his open maw. All of his yellow eyes focus upon the elixir in rapt attention. I uncap the thing and dump it into his mouth. 

A bright white light explodes forth from Mors the moment the potion touches his tongue and I jump back to shield my eyes. A loud and horrifying screech is ripping itself from Mors’ mouth, slowly becoming human in tone. What was originally a huge shadow at the center of the blast could be seen shrinking into something more human.

I can hear the crack of bones sliding into their proper place and the rubberband snap of malformed muscles going back to their place. Several squinting yellow eyes close to never open again and moss retreats back to the forest floor.

At the end of the blast a man is left at the epicenter. Shocking blonde hair is matted to his head and pale bruised skin shimmers under the moonlight. The man is looking at his hands in amazement, seemingly astounded to see himself again. 

A curtain of moss hangs on him but I still blush and look away. I see the bar's patrons are stumbling out of the door to see what the brightness was. Even some civilians poke their heads out of their doors and windows. I can see Nix’s scowling face from one of the Drunken Beagle’s second floor windows, unhappy I woke him up yet again.

Townspeople gather around the elated blonde man, who was now chuckling to himself as he flexed his toes. I hear questions whispered by the crowd drowning each other out.

Who is he?

I go to answer, “Mors--”

“Caine!” The man shouts, with tears streaming down his cheeks.“My name is Caine Huntsman, No longer am I Mors.”

She didn’t really know how to talk about it or express the way she felt so she found this passion for singing. She loved all country singers but one of them really stuck out and inspired her.

My mom always told me stories about this girl. She pointed out the soft voice she has and the beauty she holds. The day my mom met her changed her life. My mom always enjoyed singing so she looked up to Lainey Wilson. 

My mom also had a hard time singing in front of others, and every time she would, she’d get nasty looks from the people around. Those people giving her those looks made her very insecure about her voice. All she wanted was to be like Lainey Wilson. As my mom got older she kind of grew out of the singing phase since it never really worked out. 

When my mom was 24 she got pregnant with her first child (me). Once I was born she had to choose a name, so of course she chose Lainey. Ever since I was born I have always looked up to her and her music. I am inspired by her and want to be like her.

She had found it going through one of the large chests in the Tower, and decided that it looked simple enough, never mind that she had found it under a mysterious trap door in the basement, or the fact that all the villagers thought the Tower itself was cursed. Since an old powerful archmage used to live there, she supposed it made sense that they all thought it was haunted or cursed. But it had been the only place she could find to find shelter that terrible night, and it was sound enough, so she had decided to stay there. She hadn't dared to do anything with the few books she had found so far, but she thought it couldn't hurt to try this one. She had always believed the best in people, and it was written in the book that she would have control over it. Plus she was getting desperate and this was one of the only spells she had the materials for. The sickness was getting worse every day, Lily couldn't afford to wait any longer trying to scrounge up some money to cure him. 

Today was the day. She went to the small kitchen with the few ingredients she had managed to scrounge up. Once she had it all mixed she tasted a little bit, it seemed right from what she knew, and the dark red color looked about right. 

The next step was to find a place to do it. After a little thought, she cleaned up the basement and brought all the necessary supplies down there. She drew the symbol on the floor using the concoction she mixed up. She hoped it worked since she didn't want to have to get the real thing. Next, she placed the candles—she had gotten from a shop that had cost her almost all of her remaining money— in the correct places. Then, she brought her usually fat, black cat Orion down and sat him on a cushion where he mewed pitifully, his eyes glazed with sickness. 

¨Don't worry buddy, I'm gonna get you fixed right up,¨ she told him. 

Orion was her best and most constant friend. He was not about to die from a little food poisoning! 

She checked over her work again and nodded in satisfaction, it was all perfect. She hefted the Tome in her hands and began chanting the words. The blood runes on the floor started glowing and the wind started picking up in the small room. She continued holding tighter to the book and after the final line was said a blinding flash of blood-red light filled the room. When it faded, there, kneeling with his wings folded in the center of the circle was the demon she had summoned. 

She had to admit he was handsome, for a demon anyway, and didn't look anything like the demons she had heard about. He must have recently Fallen, because his wings were still mostly intact, with only a few feathers missing at the top, and at the very bottom, the smallest little glimpse of gray. He had impressive curling black ram horns and as he glanced up to look at her she sucked in her breath as she saw his glowing red eyes. They faded along with the glow from the runes as he stood up to his full height of about six feet. For probably being a few hundred centuries old he only looked about 20. He had black hair and pale skin with a carefully chiseled face. He was wearing light close-fitting armor made of some polished black metal. 

She stood there mutely, staring at him in astonishment, with the book clutched to her chest. 

Suddenly he stumbled, but quickly righted himself and shook his head once as if to clear it. He took another look about him and his gaze landed on her, he gave his wings one more flick and then folded them against his back. He looked at her expectantly but suddenly wrinkled his nose.

¨This blood smells…weird,¨ he announced, his voice surprisingly smooth and silky like a businessman’s, with a sort of dry humor about it. 

¨It's homemade,¨ she finally blurted out, ¨I made it myself.¨

¨I hope that doesn't mean it's yours,¨ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

¨No, no,¨ she hastened to assure him, ¨ It's just I made it out of different ingredients.¨

¨Hmm…¨ He looked at her skeptically for another moment and then asked, ¨Well I assume you didn't summon me here to chat. I've only done this once before but I assume you need something short of a miracle.¨ He looked at her thoughtfully. ¨You look a little young to want someone killed, and your clothes are…questionable. Do you simply want a fortune in gold?¨ 

He looked at her expectantly. She needed money of course, but she heard that demon money was cursed, and if she showed up in town with a fortune in gold, the townsfolk would know something was up and would probably kill her if they suspected she had gotten the money from a questionable source. Lily gathered her wits about her for about the third time during this encounter and walked over to where Orion was sitting, looking rather bewildered at these events. He looked at her as if to say, What have you done?

¨I need you to cure my cat. He got food poisoning and I don't have enough money to buy him medicine, and even if I did, there isn’t a healer specialized enough in animals to help him.¨

He looked at her with a mildly surprised expression on his face. 

¨Well, from the stories I've heard, I don't think anyone's ever asked that before.¨

He walked over to where she was standing and she unconsciously shied back a bit. He smiled dryly at her and said, ¨Don't worry, I'm under contract not to hurt you.¨

He took a good look at Orion and nodded.

¨This will be simple to cure–¨ He started

¨Great go ahead!¨ She motioned at Orion, then looked at him again, with a wary expression, ¨You're under contract not to hurt him either…right?¨

¨Not really,¨ he replied, ¨But I would gain nothing from hurting him, and besides, I’m fond of cats.¨

She relaxed a little bit and gestured expectantly toward the sick cat.

¨Well then? Go ahead and restore him to his healthy state before the sickness,¨ she said, wording her request carefully, remembering stories she'd heard about people who got their wishes granted, only for the meanings to become twisted. 

The demon gave her one of his dry smiles, ¨Just a second now, what do you have in return for me first?¨

She started as she had forgotten that the whole thing with summoning a demon was that they always wanted something in return, usually your soul. She had almost forgotten and had made no other plans than to not sell her soul and to ask them before offering something. She had been a bit rushed, as it was. 

¨Well, what do you want? I'm not giving you my soul!¨ she added.

¨I wouldn't want it,¨ he replied. ¨I'm more into material compensation. The last person who summoned me was a wealthy noble, who had connections with the best blacksmith in the country at the time, he made me this armor.¨

Material goods… She thought for a moment, then had a thought. 

¨Mister…?¨

¨Damianos.¨

¨Well, Mister Damianos, how do you like Hell?¨

Damian looked startled for a moment but quickly recovered. 

¨Well it's certainly not the most pleasant place in creation, but I don't have anywhere else to go.¨ 

Lily shuffled her feet. 

¨Well…I was thinking…if you promised not to hurt me of course…that…you could stay here?¨

Damian looked astonished and before he gathered his wits enough to reply, Lily plowed on, speaking quicker now and with more conviction. 

¨I mean you can't hurt me or Orion and there are a few other things we need to sort out, but Hell doesn't seem very nice and if you wanted to get out of there then you could hide here.¨

The Demon considered for a moment. 

¨What sort of rules would you have in place?¨

¨Well, like I said you can't hurt me or Orion in any way, but I will promise not to hurt you either. You will have to be okay with me going to church every once in a while and you'll have to help me find food and stuff. Oh! And also help me translate all these magic books, truthfully of course, because I want to try and learn a few things.¨

He snorted. ¨Well, that is quite a few things, but not outrageous.¨

He mulled it over for another minute. 

¨Very well.¨ He snapped his fingers. ¨I accept your offer.¨

As he said this a burst of fire lit up in front of him, revealing a blank sheet of parchment with a blood-red quill hovering beside it. 

¨So let's discuss the terms, shall we? Let's see… the basics. We can't hurt each other, or the cat, correct? You can't reveal my presence and you can go to church as you please. I will help you translate spells and find food. I, in turn, won't reveal you to any demons. And we may both go about as we please. ¨

She repeatedly nodded in response to all of the rules, the quill jotting it all down as he spoke. 

¨Now, we just both sign here,¨ He said, indicating the bottom of the parchment. 

She took the quill carefully and signed her name, Lily Rosescroll. She had made the last name up a while ago, not having one on account of being raised in an orphanage. He also took the quill and signed, Damianos of the Fourth Circle of Hell. 

The scroll burst into flames with a spark flying into each of their chests. 

¨Well, now that that's done, let me cure your cat. Oh, and maybe I should disguise myself a bit more.¨ He shrugged his shoulders and his wings and horns disappeared, and his eyes turned a deep shade of blackish gray. 

Lily stood there for a moment. What have I just agreed to? she thought, as her new tower-mate walked up to her cat and gently touched his nose with his forefinger. Nothing appeared to happen except the sick glaze left his eyes and he shook his head, already looking happier. 

Well, at least Orion feels better. This can't go too bad right? He did sign the contract.

Damianos nodded at his work and started walking towards the door. 

¨Mister Damianos, wait!"

He stopped and sent a glance over his shoulder. 

¨Please, since we are going to be roommates, you may call me Damian,¨ He said with a not-so-dry smile. ¨Now, how about a tour?¨

She took a deep breath and walked after him, scooping up the now-healthy Orion as she went. 

This will be fine. He seems okay for a demon and is under contract, she reminded herself.

After all, she had always believed the best in people. 

She came out on the porch with her coffee like she always did and took a seat on the bench starting to sip her hot coffee. It was a dark, foggy, cool morning and she was taking in the view of the woods when she heard a small pitter patter coming up the porch stairs. She looked and there was a small calico tabby cat staring up at her with wide eyes. 

“Oh, hello, little guy, where did you come from?” 

The cat cocked its head to the side and dashed down the stairs stopping at the bottom and staring back at Nellie. It looked like the cat wanted her to follow 

“Where are you going? Oh, do you want me to come with you?” Nellie set her coffee down and walked down the stairs. 

The cat led her into the dark foggy forest. The coffee on the bench went cold and the old log cabin in the woods slowly fell apart.

I grab a tray and find a spot in line. I can see that breakfast is the usual undercooked scrambled eggs. I am finally at the front of the line. I reach my tray out to Margret, a plump woman who looks like she’s been sixty her whole life. She puts a small scoop of eggs on my plate and a rotting apple. I can’t believe I’m actually going to eat this. I find a seat to myself and try my best to eat. The eggs are slimy and creep down my throat most unpleasantly. I eat about two bites before I’ve had enough. I then move on to the apple. It is a discolored red shade and the outer skin is moldable and squishy. I don’t bother eating it. I know I’m still going to be hungry even if I did. A few minutes pass and the next bell sounds—time for training. 

“All right, you maggots,” the drill sergeant said. “I’d like you to welcome a new recruit.” A young man stood beside the drill sergeant. He had dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. He had a killer's gaze, and he was looking right at me. “This is Nikolas Patel. For those of you wondering, he murdered a family of three. Nickolas, fall in.” The drill sergeant doesn’t look too happy today, but then again, he never is. Nickolas took a spot in line that was a person away from me. I could feel his cold, hard gaze still linger on me. “Hope you all ate today because we’re doing the obstacle course.” A menacing smile spread across the drill sergeant’s face. This is gonna be a long day.

“Faster. FASTER,” the drill sergeant was screaming in my ear. I was running as hard as I could. The rain from last night made the course slippery, making it hard to do anything. I arrived at the rock wall. I started climbing. I’m not gonna mess up this time. I reached the hardest part of the wall, the highest area right before the platform. I struggled to maintain my grip. My right hand slipped and it was all over. I landed flat on my back, and every ounce of air in my lungs left my body. Everyone behind me caught up and easily made it up the wall. I can’t be last again. I stood on shaky knees as I struggled to breathe. My heart pounded in my chest. Black specks clouded my vision and my head was aching. I ignored the need to faint and began climbing again. I watched carefully, slowly placing my hands on the small ridges of the wall. Then I heard the all too familiar sound of a gun being cocked. 

“Soldier,” the drill sergeant said. “If you don’t get up in ten seconds you’re too weak for this.” I could feel the barrel of the gun being pointed at me. Adrenaline, the need to live, coursed through my veins. I scrambled to the top of the wall and thrust my body over. My knees buckled when I landed, and a numbing sensation ran through my feet, but I was alive. A gunshot sounded. He must have shot the air. I immediately started to sprint as fast as I could. 

“She’s a prodigy!” “She should be in the Olympics!” “She’s the best I’ve ever seen!” Why? Why am I thinking of this now? I embrace my thoughts to keep my mind off of the course. I’m back at school, on the track field. The championship. I’m in position. To my left and my right, I see the faces of my opponents. They are hyper-fixated on the track. We started. I remember this day so vividly. Because it is the day I was wrongly accused. I was leading for so long. I was supposed to win. I needed to win… But I didn’t. At the last second, a sophomore named Judy Lance got one step in front of me. My prospective career was over. Any chance I had of getting into college that day was gone. I didn’t congratulate her. I simply walked to the bathroom. I broke down crying. Everyone told me I would win, I was supposed to win. I was such a child. I was sitting in a stall for a while, sobbing silently. Then Judy walked in. According to the police, this is when I enacted my revenge. The opposite happened. I sucked it up, stepped out of the stall, and gave her a high five. She said thanks and that I did a really good job, all that crap. Then I realized I actually did need to go to the bathroom. I went back into the stall, and I thought she did too. Instead, she lay dead on the floor. When I walked out, I was shocked and bent down to examine her. She had stab wounds all over her, but I hadn’t heard anyone come in. I didn’t understand. Then her mom walked in and it was all over. In no time I was sent here to die. 

The daydream ended when I stepped over the finish line. I wasn’t last, but very close. Nikolas was staring directly at me. I got scared. This man was a true murderer. I weasel my way through some other cadets, trying to dodge out of his sight. I wasn’t looking at where I was going and before I knew it I slammed into someone's back. When I regained my senses I looked up and saw the beast of a man I bumped into. He had a scruffy beard and had to be at least 7ft tall. I barely managed to let out a squeak of an apology and rushed through the crowd once again. I don’t belong here. 

After lunch, we are called back to formation. Somehow Nikolas found himself in the spot next to me. He lowered his head to my ear. A sliver of sweat beaded on my forehead. “I don’t care what you do or where you run, I will make you pay.” What is he talking about? I’ve never seen this man before. Is he insane? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, trying to sound calm. “You don’t know the reason you’re here?” That’s when I realized. Nikolas. He was there. He was at the court. He did a testimony. He was her boyfriend. The shock must have been visible on my face. “Don’t worry. You won’t be here much longer.” 

I couldn’t sleep that night. Not only because of Nikolas but because of the news. The U.S. is officially in the war? How the hell will I get out of this? Any hope I had of leaving was gone. As a trained murderer, I will be sent to the front lines. They don’t care about me. They think that since we already know how to kill we might knock down a few enemies before getting killed ourselves. They get two things for the price of one: we kill some of the Russians, and we eventually get the death sentence we deserve. Who will kill me first, the Russians, or Nikolas? 

Here Lies Lucia Walls

2088 - 2180

A loving mother, spouse, and friend

After a life-threatening injury from someone in her squad, she was sent away for treatment. While there, her case was picked up again and new evidence proved her innocence. She never had to go to the front lines. Lucia was able to live her long life to the fullest and broke barriers for the falsely accused. She ended the use of prisoners in wars and became an amazing advocate for changing prison life. She had a wonderful family that loved her very much. 

Fallen Soldier

2092 - 2115

Murderer

“Thank you, though the credit should be given to Angelica. She has worked exceptionally hard to get to this point!” exclaimed the King, chuckling.

“Yes! We are so very proud of her,” the Queen said, smiling.

The guest smiled and opened their mouth to talk again when all of a sudden the lights went out. The guests gasped and looked around, as if to find the one who turned them off. A small dark cloud started to form in the middle of the ballroom. The guests stared at it with confused expressions. The cloud started to get bigger and bigger. Finally realizing that it might be a threat, the guests broke into hysteria and tried to run to the grand doors, but it was too late. The doors were locked. They looked back up at the dark cloud, which now revealed a woman wearing a long black gown, a raven on her shoulder and a wand in her hand. The King and Queen looked over to where their daughter was sitting, only to realize that she had vanished.

Furious, the King asked the woman, “What have you done with our daughter?!”

The woman smiled, clearly amused by it all.

“Why, she’s right here,” she said, pointing to herself.

But we both did our part to protect the city from threats with our powers. He controlled fire and I controlled ice. Perfect balance, even if it meant he got most of the fame, being the more confident one. It didn’t matter much to me though. It was doing the right thing and helping people that mattered, and that’s what we did. He always represented hope and good, not just to me but to the whole city. He was our hero, our savior, a light in our darkest times. But all of that is gone now. A perfect ideal, crumpled and tossed aside like a discarded piece of trash. Justice is gone and here I lie in an alley, broken and afraid, the skyscrapers towering over me. 

Some good things, such as a house, food, and clothes. Bare minimum things. But you took things from me too. You took away my mental health, my freedom, and my childhood. You talked me down, blamed me for your problems, lied to me. You gave me worries and doubts. When I remember what you took from me, I try to remind myself of those basic survival things you gave me. 

Thanks to you, I have developed some things: anxiety, anger and the inability to trust. After I thought about what you have given and taken, I have decided you were a thief. I survived, but was I really living? No, I wasn't. You watched me through the years. You have seen the life drain from my eyes, brain, and heart. I felt like a walking zombie, life depleted from me, just a walking corpse. 

It is really a sad sense of irony. You have died, but you somehow took my life. That makes you a thief. I got robbed of my life. That makes you the Life Thief.

“I like mine,” Will said between bites. “Call me crazy all you want, but I like ranch on my burger, and this is good ranch.” 

The three all continued to eat their food, glancing over at Sam. Sam didn’t speak. His burger was completely untouched. He didn’t even motion toward his food. Awkwardly, Barry cleared his throat and pointed at Sam’s food.

“Your burger is going to get cold.” The table fell silent. Sam still didn’t move as the entire table stared at him, waiting for him to speak. Finally, he let out a deep sigh.

“So…we’re not going to talk about what just happened, then?” A sarcastic smile spread across Will’s face.

“Oh, you mean the fact that we were expecting to lie to an old schizophrenic woman but ended up finding an actual monster in her woods? Actually, I don’t think anybody here wants to address that.” Will took a bite from one of his fries and laughed to himself. Mary looked over at Sam unenthusiastically.

“Here’s the deal, Sam. We’re eating our burgers here, and we’re going to eat them and chat like a normal group of friends would. Once we finish our food, we’re all going home. All of us are going to watch TV, take a bath, whatever. Then, we’re all going to bed. We were never at an old woman’s house, we were never in anybody’s woods, and we never ever saw a skinwalker.”

“Wendigo,” Will corrected. The entire table looked at him like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. “A skinwalker is something that can turn into an animal. A wendigo looks like a corpse and eats people.”

“Wendigo, skinwalker, whatever,” Mary continued angrily. “I don’t care if it’s Jimmy Carter himself. We didn’t see it and we were never there.” The table fell silent again. 

Finally, Sam grabbed his now-cold burger and took a reluctant bite. The rest of the group continued their dinner. All except Barry. Much like Sam had done earlier, Barry left his burger untouched and stared into space. Unlike Sam, though, Barry was grinning wide.

Will was the first to notice. He looked at his eerie smile with confusion. Then, realization. Then, horror. “Barry…” he warned.

“Guys,” Barry began, but Will cut him off.

“No, no, no! Don’t you dare say it.” 

Barry grinned even wider.

“Do you understand just how much we could make off of this?” Barry asked. The moment he said this, Sam and Mary realized immediately what he wanted to do.

“I still have to do my eye makeup and put on lip gloss,” she says to her friend.

“Hurry up please, I’ve been done for 15 minutes already. What’s taking you so long?” The friend puts her hands on her hips impatiently.

“I have to make sure I look perfect, obviously.” She rolls her eyes at the friend.

“You used to be so carefree.” The friend stares into the distance.

“Right, we all did, kids don’t care, simple as that. But I’m not a kid, and neither are you. We’re both legal adults now getting ready for senior prom. Plus, if I’m trying to win prom queen, I have to look beautiful tonight.”

“You already are beautiful,” the best friend says.

“But he’s gonna be my date, and I’m telling you now, he’s my future husband,” she tells the friend.

“Let me guess, it’s because he has such gorgeous eyes,” jokes the friend.

“No, it’s because I believe we’re meant for each other, we met by fate when we were little. I remember it like it was yesterday.”

The grass is so tall it reaches her hips. You wouldn’t even barely be able to see her if she were any shorter. She stops, lays down, and looks to the sun. It’s brighter than she remembered, but blocked by the grass blades.

She blinks.

“Of course I love him, why else would I be marrying him?” She looked at her mother with annoyance and a small smile.

“I know you’ve been asked this plenty of times by now, I’m sure. It’s just important for us parents, that’s all. My mother asked me before my wedding.” The mother showed a smile, same as her daughter, but there was worry behind it.

“Well, just like Grandma, you have nothing to worry about. You have to trust me. I’m going to walk down that aisle, say ‘I do’ and live my life happily. Can you please just let me do that in peace?”

“Yes, I won’t bother you anymore.” The mother didn’t hide her sorrow.

Bugs climb up the stalks of grass that must seem like skyscrapers to them. They crawl on her legs and tickle her. She is fascinated by the ladybug as it flies away from her. She watches it in awe.

She blinks.

“Don’t touch me!” She swats at her husband's arm.

“I didn’t mean to, sweetheart, please believe me. I would never hurt you on purpose.” The husband looks at her with great sorrow.

“I don’t trust you anymore.” Mascara runs down her face with tears.

“You should because I’m sorry, I’m telling you the truth.” He holds her hand gently.

“The truth is that you hit me in the face. I’m your wife, I shouldn’t even have to worry about that happening, but it did.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises her.

She stood up and brushed the traces of the ground off her. She stuck out her arms on both sides of her and spun in a circle, palms facing the sky. A wide smile spread across her face.

She blinks.

“Don’t cry, do anything but cry,” her best friend says while hugging her.

“What do I do? How could I possibly screw up so badly?” Another wave of sobs begins to choke her up.

“You did nothing wrong. No one saw this coming,” the friend reassured.

“I did.” She was done keeping this secret.

“Is this not the first time?” The friend covers her mouth when it drops completely open from the shock.

“No, not at all.” She shivers from the memories.

“Then how many times has he done this to you?” The friend's face starts to fill with disappointment and worry.

“Five. I’m worried one day he’ll hurt the baby too.”

A small bird flaps its wings nearby. She decides to chase it and ends up at a small pond. She giggles and jumps in once the bird is officially out of reach.

She blinks.

“Where are you going?” her husband asks her in a stern voice.

“I’m leaving,” she says, trying to hold back the tears.

“Leaving? Leaving to go where? You didn’t answer my question. So go ahead, answer it, now.” He’s mad at her again.

“I want to be anywhere but here,” Even though she gave an answer, he is angrier.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere. Especially if neither one of us knows where that is. You’re my wife, you’re pregnant with my child, you’re not leaving.”

“Then stop me.” He grabs her shoulders and shoves her hard. There’s a loud thud when she hits the ground.

“Don’t suggest things you don’t actually want to happen.”

Little minnows swim all around her ankles, tickling her just like the grass and bugs. She scoops water into her hands and tosses it into the air. It falls down on her head like rain. 

She blinks.

“I need you to take her for a bit,” she suggests to her mother.

“Why exactly do I need to watch the baby? And for how long?” The mother assumes the worst, as she should.

“I’m not sure, a while though. She’s not safe at home right now,” she avoids her mother’s eyes when saying this part.

“But you are?” The mother tilts up the cheek of her only child.

“I’ll be fine, please just take her, and don’t ask questions.”

A stick floats in the water. She grabs it and draws in the mud as she props up on the shore. She writes the names of everyone she knows. She draws the scenery around her. If she could take it home, she would show her mother. There is pride in her eyes.

She blinks.

“What have I done?” she whispers, cupping her hand over her mouth. 

Her hands shake so much that she has no choice but to release the gun. It goes off again, this time into her thigh. 

She passes out and falls to the ground next to her husband.

She breaks her stick and tosses it into the pond. It floats away from her. Little pebbles sit nearby where she lounges, so she tries skipping them. One rock after another hops into the water until there are none left for her to use.

She blinks.

“Ma’am, what do you remember about the incident?” A police officer sits in front of her with a notepad.

“I remember being shot. I remember me and my husband hearing noises within the house, so we stood up to see what was going on. But we didn’t get far, and I didn’t see anyone. Whoever it was stood behind a wall I’m guessing. That must be why they missed and got my leg,” her story flows from her lips just as she had practiced it in her head.

“Yes, okay, continue,” the officer instructs.

“That’s all I remember sir. I passed out after I got shot. I had no idea anything else even happened until I got to the hospital. That’s when they stitched me up and told me he died. I wish I had more to tell you, I really do.”

She dives back into the pond and swims to the bottom to retrieve some of her pebbles. It is no use, she comes up gasping for breath. She laughs a little at her useless attempts. Her mother would scold her for nearly drowning herself.

She blinks.

“We’re gonna be taking custody of her, it’s what’s best,” the mother says to her.

“You can’t do that. She’s my kid, not yours.”

“With everything that's been going on I know you’re not in the mental state to be a parent right now. I know the cops believed you, but I don’t. I mean, you came and dropped the baby off saying that she wasn’t safe at home and next thing I know your husband has been shot dead,” explains the mother.

“The cops’ opinion matters more than yours, Mom,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

“Fine then, I’m still taking your child and I’m still suggesting therapy. Have a nice life, sweetheart, it’s clear you no longer want me in it.”

She swims up to the shore and crawls out of the ponds. Since her hair is soaking wet, she flips her head over and shakes it out like a dog, laughing the whole time.

She blinks.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the therapist asks.

“No,” she responds.

“Are you sure?” It is clear the therapist doesn’t believe her.

“Yes,” she says.

“Your mother says she believes that you have developed a new drug issue due to an incident involving your husband. Can you verify this?” The therapist sits down the clipboard to look her in the eyes.

“The part regarding there being an incident with my husband, yes. The drugs no.” 

“Are you sure?” asks the therapist again.

“No,” she admits.

“And why is that?” The clipboard is picked up again, and the pen begins to move across it swiftly.

“Because I don’t remember well, that’s why. Everything is in pieces at the moment, including my memory. So am I on drugs? Maybe. Do I just take a hit when I need one and then move along with my day just fine? Maybe. Truth is I don’t know, so you’re wasting your time even trying with me.”

Even though it’s not the right consistency, she tries to make a sand castle with the dirt by the shore of the pond. It immediately becomes a shapeless mound with a blade of grass acting as its flag. She sighs in disappointment.

She blinks.

“There is no way I just heard you right, because I could have sworn you just said you now work at a strip club,” the best friend says in complete shock.

“Try to be a little quiet please, I don’t want everyone and their grandma to know that,” she says, trying to hold a hand to the friend’s mouth.

“I’m sorry. But why, you could be doing something good with your life, you have so much potential, don’t demean yourself,” pleads the friend.

“I’m not demeaning myself, I got laid off. I applied for tons of jobs and didn’t get a single one. So I went to my last resort, and it turns out I fit the mold.”

“What about the baby?” the friend asks.

“My Mom won’t give her back to me anyways, so it doesn’t matter.”

She’s startled when she heard a branch snap somewhere in the woods. She rolls onto her stomach and sits up, frantically looking around for a possibly dangerous animal. 

She blinks.

“What’s happened to you? You look so frail, you didn’t use to be,” says her mother, with extreme sadness on her face. 

“People change,” she croaks. Her voice makes her seem weaker than she is, if that’s even possible.

“Not like this.” Tears stream down the mothers face.

“What can I say, trauma takes a toll on people. It's not like you made an effort to help,” she says, breaking eye contact.

“I did. I took your own daughter out of your hands in hopes that maybe you could focus on yourself some. Also, I wanna let you know that some people survive their whole lives with trauma. Two years shouldn’t make you age 30.” The mother tries to grab her hand, but she yanks it away.

“I didn’t ask you to take her, and heck, that actually made things worse. You took away the main thing I was living for, so what did you expect to happen?”

A boy emerges from the trees behind her, looking to be close to her age. Although far away, the two of them make eye contact. 

She blinks.

“Mama, please hold on just a bit longer, I wanna get to know you someday,” the daughter pleads to her.

She remains sitting on her knees when the boy walks up to her. Once he gets close enough, the first thing she notices is the color of his eyes, and how gorgeous they are.

She blinks.

“No, not now, don’t go yet, you can’t.” Tears stream down the daughter's face.

The boy offers out a hand to help her up, and she accepts, letting him pull her off the ground. She can’t seem to look anywhere besides his eyes, he notices. 

She blinks.

“Please. Mama, please.” She can barely hear her daughter anymore as her eyelids begin to feel far too heavy to keep open.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we met by fate,” the boy says, sitting next to her on the shore of the pond.

“What do you mean by that?” she asks him, looking up at him after watching her feet kick back and forth in the water.

“I mean, what are the odds that two people, roughly the same age, just happen to be wandering around the woods at the same time and end up crossing paths?” He looks up at the sky. She does the same.

“Very small, I guess,” she answers with a shrug.

“Can I give you some advice?” With the sun right behind her head, he scrunches up his nose to focus on her.

“Sure?” Only her parents and teachers ever gave her advice. She looks at him and stares, waiting for an answer.

“Never grow up,” he states matter of factly.

“What?” She had never been told anything like this before.

“I saw you a few minutes before you heard me. I was trying to figure out if I should come say hi, or leave you be. I’ve never seen someone so at peace with herself and the world like you are. Don’t ever lose that.”

She blinks.

The line marking her heart rate begins to slowly flatline. Second by second, her time to live runs out. The daughter's pleads are replaced with heartbreaking sobs.

And for the last time, she blinks.

The good thing that came out of it was an alliance would be formed. The bad thing was she didn’t have a say in who she would agree to be with. As Princess Tinelly was walking down the jade garden she heard familiar footsteps. “Hello Mother,” she called out as she watered her golden roses. 

“Hello, my child,” Chieftess Tanya replied with loving authority. “I see the garden has grown to be its own little family, It starts—” she began to advise.

“I know, it starts as one seed and once you add it to soil and give it the right amount of water and sunlight, more will grow. I know you say this every year leading to this day,” replied Princess Tinelly with an annoyed tone. Chieftess Tanya knew Tinelly was an independent princess and if she had to do something she would want a say in it rather than someone choosing for her. 

“I know today is going to be a little rough for you. I just want you to know that I’ve been in your position and I can help make the situation not feel like you’re forced,” coaxed the chieftess. “When I was chosen I made sure to tell your father my core beliefs and made sure he knew I wasn’t going just to be there. Just to make children for him.”

“I know but what if I'm not ready to be sent off yet? What if I get chosen by a bad person who ends up using the alliance to take down our village?” Princess Tinelly worried as she began to pluck the weeds growing around her precious flowers. Before Cheiftess Tanya could respond, Chief Toga interrupted

“Then I will find them and take everything they consider valuable to them. Now let us  get this over with so we can feast, honor you, and send you off.”

Leaving the jade garden, Princess Tinelly created a bouquet of her finest gold roses to give to the visiting village who came to ask for her hand. They entered the throne room and the villagers and soldiers all kneeled in respect of the royal family. As they approached their seats, Prince Tongo was seen in his chair ready to leave. 

“ Hello, Mother, Father, Tinelly,” he greeted as he stood to give them hugs. Hugging Tinelly he added, ”Don’t be nervous, I’ll be right here. If you don’t like them I’ll send them out.” 

Feeling a bit of relief, Tinelly sat down ready to accept her fate. There were other villages throughout the land. Their village was  one of three who had villages surrounded by water. The rest were villages surrounded by a vast desert.  Today she had to be sent off to a village in the desert so their village could get more spices and herbs and they could get more water to keep their village and livestock healthy.  Seven princes entered the throne room.  Most were good looking, but Tinelly wondered if they had a good heart. 

Each prince came up and kissed her hand except one. He stood out from the rest. He stayed where he was and introduced himself as Prince Javiar. 

“I come to ask for your daughter's hand and create an alliance so both our villages will have more resources. Your daughter, Princess Tinelly,  will be the Chieftess of my village and contribute to making positive changes throughout the village to make it a better and stronger place in her image. She does not have to have kids right now.  She can bring anything she wants and come back and visit at any time,” he stated before bowing and kissing the Chieftess and Princess’s hand. 

“It has been decided!” declared the princess as she gave him the gold bouquet of roses. “Prince Javiar is the one I choose to take my hand. We shall have a ceremony in the village of sand and declare our loyalty to each other.”

Without hesitation, everyone got up and cheered as the soon-to-be chief and Chieftess began to exit the throne room. Prince Javiar was greeted at the front of the village lawn with congratulations and gifts from some of his people. 

“You are a lifesaver to our people!” screamed a teen boy.

“You're our hero, we can finally eat more meals each day and better provide for each other,” cried an older woman. 

In the distance the six princes who weren’t chosen came up with a plan to take Prince Javiar out of the picture, forcing the princess to choose again. 

“We should try to poison one of his drinks when they have the ceremony; he won't make it to the signing of the alliance,” suggested the biggest prince. 

“We could create a bounty on his head so the Chief realizes his daughter is in danger and calls it off?” suggested the nervous prince. 

“Those are good suggestions but no,” stated the prince with one eye. “ We need to do something to the princess. We need to make it seem like Javiar lied about what he promised and that he kidnapped the princess to make Chief Toga cast him out.” 

In agreement, all six princes declared, “I agree, let's take him out.”

In her chambers, Princess Tinelly was packing things to take with her for the trip when she felt an odd presence. Before she could turn around, the one-eyed prince had already put a piece of cloth on her nose that made her pass out. Without causing a disruption he wrote a letter to the Chief as if he was Prince Javiar.

“Dear Chief, I have taken your daughter and want complete access to your docks if you want her back.  You have till the day of the Merge to send someone with 10,000 gold coins, an albino doe, and a flower that heals any injury. Once those have been brought to me  you can get the location of your daughter.”

He went to the woods and into a boat that drove them miles away from the village of water and to his kingdom. The six princes took Tinelly into the dungeon room and took turns watching her until she woke up. 

Back at the water village, Prince Javiar was woken up by soldiers who dragged him to Chief Toga.

“WHERE IS SHE?” screamed the Chief. “How dare you come to my village, ask for MY daughter's hand, and you turn around and kidnap her to get our resources?”

Chieftess Tanya and Prince Tongo began to glare at Javiar as if he were the enemy. 

“I came here to ask for Princess Tinelly’s hand and help my village thrive better. I would never kidnap her or marry her just for resources. She has amazing ideas that can improve my village and help us create more resources,” responded the confused prince. 

The Chief ignored his response and told him, “You need to get their demands and meet whoever it is and get my daughter back. You have a week or else we are going to find you and make you eat fire ants.”

Leaving the village, Prince Javiar headed to the forest where he stayed to see if he could catch an albino doe and flower that healed all injuries. As the stars began to gleam down on him, he stalked through the woods where he found some of the princes who didn’t get chosen. He pleadingly called out, “Fellow princes, I have been blamed for something I never did and am tasked with the impossible. Will you help me find the whitest of does and the flower with the power to heal all injuries?”

Without hesitation, they all laughed at how helpless Prince Javiar sounded. “As if we’d help the one who took our chances at more money. Go track your own doe and flower,” they replied hatefully. 

Treading through the sloshy forest he sat on the diamond rock and stared at the stars, wondering what he did to be treated like this, why he was being treated like this. As he thought about what he could’ve possibly done, a gentle presence started to surround the eerie environment. As he looked around, his eyes met those of the albino doe. It didn’t run off or try to attack him. It came to him and spoke to him through its mind. 

“I know they have wronged you. I will help you because I see your heart and soul are pure.” While saying this, the gentle doe began to grow antlers that grew flowers that looked like the stars themselves. 

With the 10,000 gold coins, albino doe, and magical healing flower, he headed to the village of sand in hopes he wasn’t too late. Meanwhile in the dungeon of the sand village, Princess Tinelly had awoken from her forced slumber and lay in her cell waiting, wishing someone was on their way to come rescue her from her captors. She began to hum a lullaby only her brother could hear.

Hearing this song, Prince Tongo began to hum back. Letting her know she was going to be okay and someone was going to find her. He ran to the Chief's tent, and with exhaustion in his voice, interrupted, “She is alive. Tinelly is alive and being held captive in the sand dungeon but not by Prince Javiar. By the one-eyed prince and the rest who weren’t chosen.” 

Outraged, the Chief sent out a platoon of soldiers to meet up with Prince Javiar. As they followed Javiar’s tracks, they found five of the princes asleep in their tents. Without a sound, the soldiers rounded them up and half of them took them back to the water village. The other half went ahead and found Prince Javiar at the entrance of the sand castle walls. 

Javiar turned to find the water village platoon there to help him. “I have the albino doe, the magical flower, and 10,000 gold coins. I'm about to go in and confront the kidnapper. There are no guards from what I can tell so I was going to go through the doors. Maybe you guys can sneak in on the sides and surround them and one of you can give him his demands while I go find Princess Tinelly, “ he hurriedly explained. 

They all nodded in agreement and some fanned out to surround the kidnapper while one had the ransom and walked in the front door. The one-eyed prince welcomed the soldier and began to take the ransom but was interrupted by the soldier.

“The princess,” he demanded. 

With a fake smile, the one-eyed prince greedily replied, “She’s in the dungeon surrounded by cobras. Now hand over what I asked for” Hearing where the princess was, Prince Javiar began to run down to the dungeon. He began to cross the serpent-infested path and entered the cell without a scratch. 

Knowing it was a trap, the one-eyed prince took the items and ran to the dungeon before the soldiers could surround him. He didn’t realize Prince Javiar had made it to the cell or was at the castle, so like the idiot he was, he told the princess his selfish plan. “I plan to use the power from this  albino doe to create healing flowers that can raise the dead. I will raid the town of water with my army of undead and you will be my bride no matter what.” As he was about to put the princess to sleep again, the princess transformed into Prince Javiar, who put the one-eyed prince to sleep first.

The one-eyed prince didn’t know that the albino doe could do more than grow healing plants. It could make you look like someone else as long as it was for good purposes. Prince Javiar had already taken the princess to the soldiers waiting for them outside. Taking the criminal to the soldiers outside, they traveled back to the village of water. The albino doe used its powers to heal the princess from any toxic fumes she was given. 

As they approached the village’s throne room the albino doe made its way back to its home in the forest and Princess Tinelly ran to her family. They embraced one another and began to check her to make sure she was not hurt. 

Chief Toga turned to Prince Javiar and with great appreciation he called out, “Prince Javiar, I would like to thank you for bringing my daughter back to me. I should’ve trusted you instead of speaking out of emotion. You may keep my daughter's hand if you would like and everything will be repaired and brought back together. You have my word.” 

Prince Javiar replied with a warm heart, “I understand your way of handling things. You have the right to speak out of emotion when it comes to family—it's what makes you human. I would love to have your daughter's hand still, as long as she’s okay with it.” 

Princess Tinelly thought back to how she dreaded the day she was to be sent off. She remembered how her mother tried to comfort her and to prepare her and how her brother was there ready to send out those she didn’t see fit. Without hesitation, she replied happily, “Of course, you can still have my hand. We will become the village that excels because we know how to consider the other's values and respect their beliefs.” 

Later that day Prince Javiar and Princess Tinelly became Chief Javiar and Cheiftess Tinelly of the village of the glowing sand. This was the beginning of a new era. An era where everyone had a say in what they believed in. An era where they weren’t forced into a marriage they never wanted. This is the tale of the glowing merge where my father, the purest of heart and soul, saved the princess from the evil of the one-eyed prince.