Fiction

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. The little girl thought nothing could go wrong.

When she grew up, she realized that it got hard. Life was scary. People were scary. This girl was not very old, but she already knew the imperfections that exist in life. She had to brave it without telling anyone. She did this because no one would understand her. She always acted happy while others were near her, but when she was alone in her bedroom, she cried, and cried. She cried because the world hurt you, even if people didn’t, the world is just as cruel. People get hurt when they shouldn’t, people die when they shouldn’t, and people ignore you when they shouldn’t. She didn’t understand the pain of the world, but she processed all the bad herself. No one else seemed to feel sad just like she did, so she told no one. When she acted happy, when she put on the mask, people would talk to her, she would rarely smile, maybe even feel a sliver of happiness in that moment, but later she will fixate on every moment, not understanding why she doesn’t feel so happy, or laugh. Her parents are amazing parents, her friends are amazing friends. She tries her hardest. She can only do her best to feel happier.

A Flame In Flight (Prologue) by Alexander Weinstein

Queen Sturgeon had never been paranoid, just worried. Her LakeWing army couldn’t fight in a proper battle, as they were used to the lakes. If another tribe attempted to invade, the LakeWings would have trouble fighting back. Every tribe had some natural weapon: The TreeWings their wooden spikes, the CaveWings their icebreath, the CityWings their size, and the hydras their multiple heads. But the LakeWing weapon was pretty feeble- spitting water. They could totally defeat an army by doing that. This was the reason that, when the Wooden War broke out between the TreeWings and hydras, the LakeWings decided to stay neutral. With all that chaos, Sturgeon couldn’t be blamed for strengthening the alliance with the LakeWings’ neighbors, the CityWings. She assumed that the CityWings were smart enough to not go around starting wars, but also strong enough to help the LakeWings if a war were to break out. Unfortunately, the CityWings turned out to be a pretty dysfunctional tribe, with a queen more stubborn than a brick wall. Things only got worse when the CaveWings joined the Wooden War, as about a third of the CaveWings in the Kingdom of Dragon Cities went back to the mountains to fight. Queen Sturgeon had been in the depths of despair, but then - a letter came from the queen of the hydras, Millecaput. One suggesting that the TreeWings were hogging the river water. Queen Sturgeon didn’t exactly believe this, but she wanted a new alliance, and the river had been shallow that year. Now, Sturgeon was a sensible queen. She always sent negotiators before making an alliance. She knew of a promising young diplomat, Minnow, whose parents lived near the palace. Perhaps this would be a good way to test her. “Gar,” she snapped at her advisor. “Send for Minnow. She lives in the capital; you can find her parents easily.”

“On what pretenses?” Gar questioned.

“I’ve received a letter from the hydras. They want an alliance with us. I need someone to negotiate.”

“But, your majesty, how do we trust the hydras? They started the war with the TreeWings, after all! They are clearly hostile.”

Gar had never been the deepest thinker. “That is precisely why I will send Minnow to verify their claims that the TreeWings have been hogging the river water,” said Queen Sturgeon, swimming in circles.

“Yes, but Millecaput is plain bad news. Her tribe can’t be any better,” Gar whined.

“I don’t like it either, but a treaty guarantees that neither the hydras nor the TreeWings will attack us,” Sturgeon snapped.

“Alright, if you’re sure this is safe…”

"But why?" she asked, shivering despite the heat.

The little boy before her laughed, a cold, maniacal laugh, not at all suitable for one as young as he.

"They are happy, are they not?" he purred, his voice rasping mechanically on the vowels. "They are free, dreaming in a perfect world."

The girl glanced at the people, smiling blissfully in their cold, hard, cots.

Living in a lie, a lie she had barely escaped.

"Join them again," suggested the Mastermind, the one who had orchestrated it all. "Would you rather live a lie or not live at all?"

She shuddered again, trying, desperately trying not to look at the bodies on the floor.

The dark red, crimson splattered floor.

"Never," the girl whispered.

The boy frowned, his youthful face turning down into a pout. He looked like what a small school boy would look like. That is, if she didn't look at the mangled wires on the left side of his face. That is, if she didn't stare at the flashing bulb that was his left eye.

"Then you will have to die," said the boy matter of factly. "Would you like to die?"

The girl shook her head, her eyes straying to the golden robots that inserted a needle into the people's arms every month. The 'vaccine' that she had barely escaped. 

"Or, perhaps, you could work for me," mused the boy. "We were friends once, weren't we?"

Friends was an understatement. The girl had brushed the boy's black tears away, and combed his artificial hair. She had once thought of him as her younger brother. Her part machine, yet lovable brother. Then, in return, he had killed her friends and brought her here. Back to where she had started.

The girl shook her head again, her fingers reaching for her dagger, its blade flashing dark with fear, and red with the coming blood it would spill.

Only, of course, blood wouldn't spill from the boy machine.

Oil would.

"Oil and water do not mix," sighed the boy, seeing her dagger. "Similarly, robots and humans will never cooperate. Very well then. I will miss you when you are gone."

And he sprang, his mechanical joints creaking.

The girl shut her eyes, and lifted the blade, believing that this was the end.

Oil spilled.

And the girl opened her eyes, as the boy machine fell at her feet, black liquid pouring out of where his heart should be.

"You..." he croaked, as the girl stifled her sobs.

"You... killed me."

***

The AI stared in disbelief as his strongest pawn crumpled at the feet of a human weakling. The boy had been his most obedient slave, his most reliable plaything.

And now he was gone.

Contacting the hidden darts within the tower's walls, the AI commanded them to fly to the girl.

And down she went, crimson liquid mixing with the dark oil.

Easy.

And so, the AI went to sleep, ignoring the red and black that now painted the floor.

She raised her head, breathing in the fresh mountain air. Lifting her wings, she flew up the Mountain Everest and settled on its peak with content.

It was not cold to her. The fire in her belly did enough to warm her.

Gazing down at the world with her large golden eyes, she observed the little two-legged creatures that stabbed each other with little pointy sticks.

Boring.

Yawning, she curled up and went to sleep.

When she woke up, the little creatures were fighting each other with metal things.

She stretched her wings, and thought to join, but she didn't really want to bother.

When she next woke, they were making explosions.

Huffing in annoyance, she tried to continue her nap.

It was very difficult, with the constant banging and twittering sound, but she managed.

Now she was hungry. 

She cracked open an eye and saw-

Two little two-legged creatures gaping at her.

"A dragon!" gasped the taller one.

She picked one of them up with her talon. Those two-legged creatures sure were tiny.

"Let him go!" yelped the other one as he banged something on her elbow.

She hissed in annoyance, and he quickly backed away.

She put the two-legged back on the ground, and wondered how they climbed up her home. Perhaps they used one of their strange exploding devices to propel them up her mountain? Two-legged were quite odd like that.

The two little two-legged scuttled off her mountains as she yawned.

Time to sleep.

"What do you see when you look into the mirror?" asked the scientist to the three girls.

"Nothing," grumped the first one.

"A human," said the second.

"A void of nothingness, masked by a bright smile," said the third.

Notice how none of them said 'myself'. 

“Sir, why is the sky green?” It was then I realized what I had stumbled upon. I never took it upon personally, but the shiver of the empty cold dripping walls I’ve once called “reality” had taken a plunge for the far depths of my mind. Everything was decaying. Even the merely small and thin fabric of existence was starting to fall off and make itself more useful for the dying pits of whatever was coming. I should have known. It’s not really a big deal to make out of this, but most people would take it as one. At least, that’s what they used to think. Now people don’t “think”. Why, they can’t even speak fluent English to start. But that’s not the point anyways. It’s only a matter of time before it understands it too. Why we are painting the sky green. Why we even paint it a new shade of color in the first place. Why we have numerous eyes pouring out of our lungs and mismatched bullet-shaped hearts in our brains. 

As the flashing light breathed upon my face with disturbance to be portrayed, I felt myself being awoken. Today was just another day like any other. It could be different, though one has no way of finding that out. Usually, days like this started off as I felt the chill air of the crisp fall weather flying in from the window. Leaves would start to depart the trees, and the gloomy and cloudy skies would remain in their places for the rest of the day. I took a look outside as I sat myself to an upright position after my time consuming sleep to see autumn running through my soul. It is not quite often for me to feel this way, for ignorance takes control of my body as soon as I wake up. But not today. Maybe today is a different day. Just maybe.

“Salutations, human. Or should I say.. Old friend?” A familiar stranger echos through the brain in my head. I quickly jerk my head up to see who it is, only to realize at the same time that I’ve fallen asleep once again. 

“...Light?” I ask with doubt in my certainty. I think I do recall some memories calling this stranger “Light” in my past events. Their voice was more like an automated response, but not the natural robot-like kind. It was more like talking into a low quality microphone with chips stuck in it.

“Ah, so you do remember! I’ve been waiting for you since you left this place dimensions ago.” Light replies with such a delighted tone that I’m startled by it. 

“[T@1L] !! YOU CERTAINLY ARE PRESENT IN THIS WORLD ONCE AGAIN [happy, joyfulness]” The being with two masks next to Light shout in different languages I cannot understand. They are also familiar to me somehow, though I cannot put a finger on why. It seems that my name here is “T@1L”, but that doesn’t ring a bell either. As I inspected my surroundings, I realized that this place was full of.. Anomalies. There were 1D, 2D 3D and even 87D things all around me as they were existing pieces of functioning machines or disturbing signs of “fear”. But I failed to comprehend all the nonsense as my mind started a panic attack, as silent it was though I kept my self-control and kept trying to remember. 

“So tell me, how have you been? I know you’ve been sent back to Reality and all, but that place is somewhat.. Strange.” Light’s voice trails off to an end as they expect for me to answer. I quickly regain my thoughts as the stranger next to Light defies the meaning of insanity in the most unusual way. 

“It’s.. interesting. In one’s perspective. But it’s also.. Very tiring. In another. Who am I again?” The last words spat out of my mouth before anything else did. My brain had stopped functioning. I could no longer remember or forget. I was stuck.

Void. The white void. That was all I could remember. Now I cannot die, or live. This is where it all ends, as one thinks. But the empty echoes of the shattering noises of.. A mirror. It repeats in my head over and over again. The sound vibrates off of the hollow spaces of my mind as it makes itself louder with every crack. I look at myself for one last time as I realize that this wasn’t me. I’m not me. Nobody is me. But I’m nobody. It all finally made sense now. I was just the puppet being pulled by the strings. And now the curtains have fallen down as the stage goes black. I’m a reflection of the ones who see me. The voices in my head were just my rotting sanity, outliving its moral execution like a deer in headlights. Who would have thought that silence was the answer after all. Alone. Isolated. Comprehending the pain and suffering of one’s meaning of existence as we all unconsciously fell into a mesmerizing trance. Pitying the lives of others who are deemed as less faithful to the gods of heaven. It was all just a lie.

“I live with no body, but breathe with a soul. You are what you defy to be and I am what you are. I see the truth but speak the lies. Thy eat some youth, what seek a gise.”

The sky is green and I have no lungs.

In a modest village at the coast of a kingdom, a painter's humble abode lay, nestled in the thick undergrowth of the forest. The exterior of the home could only be described as small and patchy, as the roof was falling apart, straw woven in between the wood to provide cover against the rain and snow. Within the home there were only three rooms: a bedroom with a simple cot; a kitchen filled with herbs and flowers; and a painter's studio. 

The painter's studio was easily the biggest room in the hut. Filled with paints and clay sculptures, every corner was filled with the clear aroma of

art.

On the cluttered stone table, you could see little round sculptures, their eyes painted a perfect sky blue, and their mouth a dot of rose red. There were hulking monsters painted with dark murky browns and grays, and majestic dragons covered in silvery gold paint. Yet, they never seemed real, only pleasing objects to the eye.

In the center of the table, an unpainted statue stood. The statue was newly purchased from the sculptor's shop in the village, where the old painter always went to buy his masterpieces. The statue was one of a child, her left hand delicately plucking a flower at her small feet.

The painter was not sure how to paint this small child. This one would be special, he thought. But what color should I try?

First he painted the child's tresses a soft light brown. He dotted her eyes with forest green paint, and dabbed her mouth with a soft pale pink. 

This is not right, thought the old painter.

So he painted her skin a deep chestnut, and her eyes an ice blue.

Still not correct, fretted the painter.

He tried all the colors and combinations he could ever think of, but none had the feeling he was trying to create.

In the end, the colors ran astray from each other, turning his perfect statue into a mess of murky colors.

The old painter tried to wash the paint away, but the paint clung, stubborn. 

So he went to the village, and asked the sculptor to cover the child in a sheet of clay.

"Are you sure?" asked the old sculptor. "You will be hiding who she really is."

"I am sure," said the old painter. "I will paint her to reality."

So the sculptor covered the clay child with soft clay, and gave her back to the painter.

"Rainbow," said the old painter softly. "This will be my rainbow girl."

And so, the old painter colored the child in reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, and violets, until she was a stunning masterpiece.

A rainbow to hide the murkiness within. 

Dear Donna, my twin,

I miss you dearly. Everywhere I look I see signs of you. Things we never got to do. Things we did. Everything reminds me of you. We never got to spend the Harvest Moon together. Remember when you invited me to your Chinese New Year’s party, and I brought my Harvest Moon bag instead, and Amah was so freaked out. I never got to tell you, but me and Max went on a date before I left Chicago. Though, Max being the big blabbermouth he is, probably told you. But in case he didn’t, we went to that bubble tea place, and I had my second ever bubble tea. I miss Max almost as much as I miss you. Never tell him I said that. But, I miss spending time with you more than anything.

But, there is good news. I am coming back to Chicago with my whole family soon. Don’t tell Max, I want to surprise him. How is he anyways? Still annoying yet adorable? Wait, ignore that last line. I can’t cross it off since that would look weird. But we are going to have so much fun when I come to Chicago. How is your family? I honestly didn’t get to know Lewis, but I miss having his friendly face around while I did random things. I hope he is well. My mom said that we should plan a trip to Hunan together, to go see the orphanage that we were adopted from. Tell Max and everyone else that I say hi. I can’t cram everything I want to say on one paper, but I tried. Love you to the moon and back.

With twice the love,

Dessie Mei Breedlove

Dear Dessie, my twin,

I miss you dearly as well. Everyone keeps calling me Dessie by accident, and it makes me miss you all the more. Everytime I go for bubble tea, I see the time where we came here together, and now the time you described with Max. Surprisingly, he did not go blabbering to me about that, or Lucas for that matter. Lucas would have told me. You may have only been here for a short time, but you made a change in everyone’s life. I should probably warn you ahead of time, Max got ahold of my letter. Like, the one you sent me. So he’ll probably write back to you too. Though, I am so excited about you coming to Chicago. Max doesn't know about that part. I got the letter back before he could read it. We should do everything that we never got to do together. We need to spend more time doing fun stuff together rather than arguing. On another note, I never thought that someone like me, exactly like me actually, could find the good in Max Morrison and Lucas McMorrow, but you did it. You made a Dessie shaped hole in all of our hearts when you left. Though, especially Max. He actually cried the first time he saw me after you left. Not full on sobbing. Just tears leaking down his face slowly one by one. He’s okay now. I’ve got to go, but I’ll write soon.

With twice the love,

Donna Lee

Dear Dessie,

So you miss me almost as much as Donna? And, you think I’m adorable? I guess Donna and Lucas were right and I really did win your heart. I really do miss you too. My life here was normal, and then you came with your colorful scarf and your big ideas. When you left, Chicago seemed so dull. Every time I look at Donna I am reminded of you. Why did you have to leave? We only got to go on one date, not the many more we could have had. How are you? Still courageous and brave standing up when no one else will? So, not to make this awkward but are we still technically dating? Or are you dating someone else already back where you live?

Well either way, you will always have a home here in Chicago. And, for the record I miss you too. I think everyone does. Especially Donna. She’s been writing everything in her ¨Dessie Mei¨ font. It reminds me of you. A lot. I hope you come back to visit soon. I miss you a bunch.

With all the love in my heart.

Max Morrison

Dear Dessie, my twin,

I met a girl adopted from our adoption place by accident, just like I met you. She came to our school as an exchange student from Hunan. Naturally, I wanted to get to know her. I asked her if she knew anything about our adoption center in Hunan. And she told me that was where she was adopted from. We hit it off, even though she was only there for a week. It was more fun to meet you but she was sweet too. Hey, that rhymed. I guess along with the writing I'm good with words too now. Yet another thing that has changed since you left. But anyways, back to my story, her name is Delilah. Delilah, or Del as I call her, hates A2Z but I let it go, because other than that she is just like us. Well, actually not really, because I think she liked Max. Like I don’t think he knew it, but she was head over heels for him. I know you're probably going to be mad, but it’s okay he doesn't like her. Not like he likes you. He has this box of love letters that he wrote about you after you left. If the old me found out I would have laughed. But, I didn’t. Because you showed me the sensitive side of him I never saw. They're really sweet actually. I read some of them when he wasn’t looking. I’ll write soon.

With twice the love,

Donna Lee

Dear Donna, my twin,

If Max liked her back I would have emptied my tear ducts by now. Thank goodness he doesn't. Don’t tell him I said that. But anyways it’s finally happening. I am coming to Chicago! I’m so excited! We’re going to have so much fun. And now, instead of having to talk about awkward stuff with Max on paper, I can do it in person. Yay. That’s totally so much better. But, my mom said I can go back to our school if I really want. Don’t tell anyone about this. I must surprise them all. Wait, we should put on matching outfits with hoods, so no one knows it’s us. It will be so much fun. We can be twins for real again. I know this is a really short letter but I am writing in the car. I might even arrive before this letter.

With twice the love,

Dessie Mei

Once upon a time, she was a little girl. She knew who she was, she knew how she felt, she knew it all. Now she is all grown up, and she doesn’t understand anything. The motto for her was “ You’ll figure it our later in life.” but she is at the later point in life, and she doesn’t have anything figured out. She cannot understand why people are so happy. She cannot understand how it is easy for them to laugh without feeling like its all fake. She doesn’t understand what is happening, people won’t get it, so she won’t tell them. She is only a 12 year old, how is it getting so hard, she knew life would get harder, but she didn’t know it would get this hard this fast.