Novel Excerpts

Reconnaissance

Grant Mort

Recon log Entry 1:

I started my day in a spaceship, not a spaceship bed or any other metaphorical substitute. As I awoke in space that day, I smiled at the familiar sound of my shuttle, and reviewed my mission. My eyes fluttered open in my chamber within a saucer-shaped vessel as we approached Earth, just as the moment was structured to be. My name is Cody Pilgrim, grandson of Billy and Montana. I do, in fact, have parents. Billy and Montana’s son is my father, but my mother was a batch of Tralfamadorian chemicals designed to structure my DNA and allow me my existence.

I knew what I was supposed to do. I had already done it and always will be doing it. I landed in a city called Ilium, at night, and walked into a house that had only been described to me before. As I looked around, I could almost imagine my biological aunt walking in to berate my grandfather. How silly she was to doubt him, even as living proof of his exploits on Tralfamadore stood in their backyard. I made my way around to the front of the house and noticed a peculiar family sitting on the porch. This family seemed to be the new residents of the home, considering my other Earth-family members had abandoned this house long ago.These people seemed very ashamed of themselves. My grandmother had described human fashion to me, but they wore nothing like that. My grandmother had described the Hollywood fashion from when she was still on Earth. She had even given me a small silver necklace that she had brought with her to our home planet. This family wore baggy things with plastic over them in different shapes and colors. I didn’t particularly understand the petty need for clothes, anyway. Back home, my family didn’t use them. Nonetheless, I was wearing basic, human, street clothes I had picked out and fabricated on the flight here. I hated the shoes; they were uneven, so I walked up and down, up and down. So it goes.

“Yo! What the hell are you doing! This is private property!” rang the call I heard from the father.

“Be calm, friend, we have already met, and always will meet. I will be but a moment,” I calmly responded before catching myself in a cringe at my alien custom. I was supposed to be like an Earthling.

“What?...Get out of here, you freaking lunatic!” He called back. At the same time, a bird called that sounded strangely like sounds of my ship, and my head turned to see if everything was in order.

“What are you looking at?! Have you never heard an owl before?! Get out!”

I took the hint and swiftly walked down the street toward an unattended car. Before the family could protest, I pulled out my Tralfamadorian tallywhig and unlocked the door before driving off. Many things had changed since my grandfather’s departure; and with his ability to time travel, he had seen much. The one thing my grandfather couldn’t see, however, was the future. In order to gain a human perspective on the current Earth's culture, I was sent to look about and learn. My first stop was to the moonscape my grandfather remembered, Dresden, and see what lay there. On my drive I saw many things, including a dead animal that lay forgotten on the side of the road. So it goes.

I wasn’t able to fabricate tickets for a public plane, so I continued driving past the airport until I could see the private hangars. Again with a swish and a flick of my tallywhig, I entered the airfield. Earthlings had made such amazing amounts of progress compared to what I knew, but these rudimentary machines were nothing compared to Tralfamadorian technology. Once I entered the hangar itself, it occurred to me that as a human, no matter what the moment was structured to be, I would not be fully aware of it happening. So I was free to pick whatever plane struck my fancy. I found a small, white craft with red stripes down the sides and entered the cockpit. Once I signaled the doors open, I drove down the runway and took to the skies. The trip was slower than my shuttle, but this allowed me to have a better view of the world beneath me. I had practiced flying with similar controls back home to prepare for this mission, so I enjoyed the peace of the sky and began this recording. It didn’t matter that I stole the plane. It was already abandoned, its owner already dead.

At the moment, I am reclining in the cockpit, enjoying the sight of Iceland coming into view. I have just enough to make it to the small island where I can refuel and continue my journey. While my flight has been peaceful, the closer I get to Dresden the lighter I feel, as if I’m losing weight just approaching the area. The runway has begun to come into view, so I must resume my logs at a later time.

Recon Log Entry 2:

Typically, one does not simply fly into another airspace; however the Tralfamadorians were able to give me some instruction on how to do it. All I had to do was explain that I was a “wartime researcher” from ilium, New York, and I was on my way. As I drew closer and closer to my inevitable destination, I couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was happening. Occasionally, I would smell blood, raw meat like that of a bucher’s or a slaughterhouse. I still felt a light, airy sensation like I was not fully connected to reality or gravity. Then I realized what it was.

I hadn’t talked with my grandfather much before leaving, I got along with Grandma much better. There was one thing I had learned from Billy Pilgrim though. I knew what I was about to do just before it happened. I found myself back at home, on Tralfamadore. I had just been born.

“Good morning, Cody,” cooed the now-grey Montana Wildhack, “I’m glad you’re finally able to come out.”

I was standing there having been born at age ten. I age much faster than humans. Even now, I am only thirteen human years old.

I felt that airiness again, and I was talking to a Tralfamadorian zoologist, explaining to me what I should do: You see, young Pilgrim, you are more Tralfamadorian than human - yet more human than us. We would like to see how you interact with the world of Earth.

For a moment, there was nothing but a soft, violet light and a soft hum. Then suddenly, something odd happened. I realized I hadn’t just become unstuck in time. I had become unstuck in reality. I found myself at that moment in a dreary, gray encampment looking into what appeared to be a homemade latrine. “There they go, there they go!” was the only thing I heard any of them say. I stumbled into a wall an realized something else. I wasn’t just in my own life. I was in another body. My limbs were too long; my body was too thin; I felt completely uncoordinated. Out of sheer luck, I tripped my way through a doorway. When I blinked, I found myself in what appeared to be the bathroom of a Honeymoon Suite. I fumbled around in the dark, found a light switch, and took stock. I already had a hunch who I was, but I had to be sure.

Sure enough, I was a lanky optometrist with short blond hair. Somehow the anomaly that had caused my grandfather to become unstuck in time had affected me as well. When I came to Earth, the Tralfamadorian portion of my DNA must have connected myself and Billy, allowing me to see through his eyes. Billy walked back out into the main room and sat down in a chair just as I reclined back in my chair in the plane I had stolen. Below me the city of Dresden was stretched out across the dark landscape like its own galaxy.

Before I could register what had happened further, a familiar shuttle appeared in front of me. A Tralfamadorian ship was hovering, and as I approached it, the pilot oriented the ship on its side so that I was flying into the side of a flat disk. Hello, young Pilgrim. A sinister voice whispered in my head. Now that you have discovered yourself, you are ready. We shall use you as the power source for our new craft.

In that moment my grandmother’s fiery personality shone through: “I swear to you that ship will never fly, and I will wipe you out.”

Then I shifted again and suddenly found myself standing in a field with a saber on my belt. It was raining hard, and all around me were more soldiers like Billy. The last thought I had of my own was this: What does “poo-twee-weet” mean?

Familiar Romance

Katelyn Dodge

Chapter Four

I was asleep. It was about one or two in the morning when I suddenly heard a loud, cracking noise. It sounded as though lightning had hit my home. I tiptoed out of bed to investigate. I was just about to step through my bedroom door when I noticed the floor was gone, in its place was a huge cloudy void of what appeared to be tornadoes. A shadowy figure emerged from the mist and floated towards me. I took a step back as the woman landed in my door frame. She had shiny, black hair that floated down to her ankles and wore a strange suit, almost like a leotard that had been altered into a dress. The skirt of the dress looked as though it were made purely from stars. She wore a cloak that gleamed a deep, maroon color that matched her boots. I took a step back as she landed in my door frame. Lightning struck, and it illuminated her face. “Who are you?” I boldly stood my ground.

The strange woman just smiled at me, an almost pitiful smile. Then she spoke: “My sweet child, I know this must be a strange and confusing time for you. Believe me, I was shocked too when I first discovered magic. Just know that I believe in you, and you are destined for great things. I had a suspicion that out of all our blood relatives, you would be the one to inherit my powers. I knew ever since that day we had a picnic, and you told me you believed.”

“Grandma?” I whispered, “This doesn’t make sense. I’m just dreaming, I have to be dreaming. This is just my grief trying to compensate for my loss. It can’t possibly be….”

The woman continued on, “You probably don’t recognize me, but that's mainly because I’m transformed. You must believe that I am a younger version of the grandmother you knew, but I am still your grandmother. You must hurry now, there isn’t a lot of time left. Do you accept my powers? Will you take my place as the top witch in the world?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My legs were shaking badly, so badly I thought I was about to collapse. In response to my grandmother’s question, I nodded my head yes. She nodded back at me to show that she acknowledged my answer.

“Very well, I wish you good luck on all of your upcoming adventures. I’m proud of you. As soon as you wake up, follow the fox. He will explain more, but I’m afraid my time is up.”

Grandma opened her arms as if to embrace me. I opened my arms in return, and she pulled me into a tight hug. At first I thought she was evaporating, but then I realized that my grandmother was morphing into me. The last thing I saw was a smile from her before she vanished completely and my room plunged into the cloudy void.

~

My room slowly faded back into view. I had jolted awake from the feeling of falling. I turned my head to glance at my blindingly bright alarm clock which read 2:17 AM. “Great, I have school tomorrow, and I’m going to fall asleep during class because there is no way I can go back to sleep now.” I quietly crawled out of bed and crept to my bedroom door. I cringed as the door hinge squeaked, but soon gave a sigh of relief, for it didn't seem to have disturbed anyone. Making it halfway down the hallway, I stopped to crouch by my parents' bedroom door.

I heard a low murmur of voices amongst some quiet sobs. Mom…. She must be crying over the loss of her mother, and Dad must be comforting her. I give a sympathetic sigh, I can’t imagine what she’s going through. I know I lost my grandmother, my friend, but to lose the person who raised you, the person who taught you, and helped you, the person who helped shape you into who you are today. I said a silent prayer, hoping to help her recover from her loss. Silently, a few tears escaped from my eyes.

In order to get my mind off of the sorrow, I decided to fetch a glass of water. As I tip-toed away from the door, down the hallway, and into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and raising it to my lips, a million questions swirled around in my head. Was that really Grandma? What did she mean, follow the fox? Magic? The moon gazed down on me, and I raised my head to look at it. It coaxed a small smile out of me. I didn’t know why. I’d never really paid too much attention to the moon before, but now... There’s just something about it, something mysterious. A noise came from behind and snapped me out of my daze. I slowly turned around to face...a fox?

I closed my eyes: “This isn’t real. There’s no way. It’s probably just a shadow, or my imagination. I know! This is another dream. Soon I’ll wake up, and it will be another completely normal day.”

“While I wish that were true, I can assure you that this is not a dream,” the fox whispered barely loudly enough to be heard.

Wait a second. The fox talked? Am I losing my mind?! I stared back at the fox which tilted its head and strolled to the window. Then it looked back at me. I heard a thud from upstairs, then the slam of a door. The fox opened its mouth once again. “You must quickly make a decision. Follow me, or stay here and lose everything. You need to hurry. Your parents can’t know about your powers, or anyone for that matter.” And it leaped on to the windowsill and took a last look at me before jumping to the ground below.

I slowly crept to the window where I could hear footsteps behind me - getting closer. If this is just a dream, then it won’t matter where I go. Besides, I’m curious to find out more about this talking fox. I slid myself down the ledge before dropping to the ground in an ungraceful landing. Ouch! This is definitely not a dream. I looked back up at the window just before bolting into the forest to see the kitchen light turn on.

~

The night air was chilly, and my breath emerged in small puffs of steam. Neither the fox nor I said a word as we darted between the trees. Its coat was peculiar; I noticed how it shined a dark blue in the moonlight. I shouldn’t be too surprised about its coat. This fox talks! And it said something about magic… Is this fox connected to my dream? To my grandmother?

The fox suddenly stopped running and took a seat by a clearing in the woods, a small brook bubbling off to the side. I came to a stop beside it: “Who are you exactly?”

The fox’s voice has a sense of urgency. “It’s not safe to speak here. We must make haste! Quickly, before the sun rises.” He then ducked under a small bush and disappeared.

~

I emerged to find a small wooden hut in the middle of a larger clearing with glowing mushrooms adorning the sides of it. The trees varied in different shades of blues and pinks, and a small waterfall bubbled as it fell into the lower part of the brook. Wow, this place...it’s so magical. I have to be dreaming.

The fox waited for me to open the door to the hut before he ushered me inside. I closed the door before taking a look around. It had a cozy feel to it. Only one window presented itself by the kitchen sink, and the hut was lit up by fairy lights. A few bean bags were in the back of the hut next to an old-looking computer. I was more interested in the glass containers on the shelves seemingly brimming with weird substances. Some looked like ingredients. Others held a purple liquid. A work table was placed in the middle of the hut with beakers and test tubes on top along with other scientific equipment. I was too busy looking around the hut to notice that the fox had strolled to the back and laid down on one of the bean bags. I took a moment to catch my breath before sitting down next to him: “Are we safe now?”

“Yes, this land will protect us,” The fox answered.

I tilted my head, and with an intriguing tone I asked, “Who are you?”

The fox gazed out the window before answering, “My name is Minute, and I am your familiar.” Minute sat up as a blue light flashed. There was no longer a fox beside me but a teenage boy sitting there. He had dark blue hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of the night sky. Minute wore dark grey sweatpants, a white shirt, and a light blue jacket over it. The hood of his jacket was shaped so that his ears would fit inside, and a soft tail pushed through a hole in the back of his sweatpants. It took me a moment to wrap my head around what just happened, “Minute?”

“In the flesh,” he answered, “human flesh, more specifically.”

I pushed his terrible joke out of my mind: “You need to start explaining. What is so special about this place? Why isn’t it safe? Who do I need to be protected from?”

Minute took on a serious expression, “Would you like me to start at the very beginning, or should I skip to your heritage?”

“The beginning?” I answered, unsure which one to choose.

Minute sighed. “I will give you a brief overview. About two million years ago, magic wielders walked the earth. They ranged from witches, warlocks, wizards, spell casters, and sorcerers. Their classes depended upon their power level and their element. Witches and warlocks go hand in hand and are usually the strongest. Wizards and spell casters are similar in power level, but each one has a distinct fighting style and usage of magic. Finally, sorcerers are the weakest because they require certain potions and sacrifices in order to even access magic. Each magic wielder gains strength from a certain element, the top two elements being the sun and the moon. No two magic wielders share the same element. Each one is different and unique. These magic wielders had their own society until one day a human was born. Soon there was an army of humans who couldn’t use magic, and they felt threatened by the wielders. A war lasted for one hundred years, and magic wielders were nearly wiped to extinction. Hunters created weapons capable of stifling magic, objects of steel and iron, strong enough to pierce through magic and kill the one that wielded it. The magic wielders fought valiantly, but the survivors are still in hiding, even to this day. Their legacy is passed on through the blood line. When a magic wielder dies peacefully, the magic chooses a descendant to wield its power.”

“What does this have to do with me?” I ask, “I’m just an ordinary schoolgirl.”

“You can’t lie to me, I know that you’ve always been more than ordinary. Even as a child everyone could see that you were different. That’s why they bullied you. They feared you.” Minute’s expression turned more serious: “It’s about time I told you about your heritage.”

“Wait! I think I need a minute to process that...magic is real,” I stood up and began to make my way towards the front door when Minute sprinted in front of me. “You can’t go out there,” he growled.

“Why not?!” I shoved past him, but he grabbed the back of my shirt.

“It’s the night of a crescent moon. You have no control over your powers, and by now they should be fully activated. If you go out there right now and lose control, then you will be caught, and I will not be able to save you.” Minute’s grip tightened. I stared at the Oaken door while I let his words sink in. After another minute, I silently turned around and walked past him to the back of the room, standing there with my back facing him for a while, taking deep breaths. “I’m ready to hear about my heritage.” I turned around to face him.

Minute sat on the table in his fox form. “No, it’s getting late, and I think you’ve had enough for one night. Try to get some sleep, okay?”

I grudgingly gave him a sigh of agreement: “Goodnight.” He jumped off the table and strolled over to one of the sidewalls where he stuck his paw in a small hole. The wall opened up to reveal another room. Inside the room was a small bed along with a few dressers. Minute then walked back over to the bean bags and curled up in one of them: “You can have the bed tonight.”

Clarisse’s Interlude

Liz Vermillon and Lorraine Carroll

Chapter One: August

Many people would struggle if given the chance to travel to a moment in time and back. Perhaps they would prevent a personal tragedy, or fix their mistakes before they’d happened in the first place. Of course, the idea of accidentally worsening the present may unsettle someone else. They might choose, instead, to go back in time simply to observe and bear witness to a moment lost in time, to allow what was a fleeting experience to live on in their own thoughts and memories.

Perhaps they’re less apprehensive about the possibility of disrupting the flow of space and time, and thinking on a greater historical scale. 1940’s Berlin, for instance, might present them the opportunity to make that difference they’re looking for.

If Clarisse McCellan were given the opportunity, she’s sure that she’d use it to travel back to September 7th 1927 to punch Philo Taylor Farnsworth square in the nose for setting this country on the path that led her to have to sit in this class, absentmindedly tracing the grains in her wooden desk as the rest of her class sat with their eyes glued to the Wall in front of them. What was this lesson even meant to be about again? Not that it mattered, she’d given up on caring a long time ago. The cold harsh light emitting from the screen strained her eyes anyways. Would it really be so bad to turn on the overhead light, or even a lamp?

Instead, she occupied herself by gazing at her slack-jawed classmates in quiet contemplation. Oddly enough, upon further examination, she realized she wasn’t the only student here who was less than elated to watch this enthralling informative programming for an hour. Across the room, Clarisse noticed a dark head of curls looking down at her hands. With only the disorienting fluorescence of the Wall and the fair distance between them, she couldn’t make out the figure very well, but it looked as though they were twirling their thumbs or perhaps fiddling with a small object. Had this person always been there? Probably not, children seemed to enroll in this school just as fast as they left (at an impressive rate). Clarisse herself had only been a part of the student body for a little over a year, yet was deemed ancient (relatively speaking).

She’d become desensitized and disillusioned to the excitement of potential new friends and typically didn’t even notice their arrival anymore. But something about the stranger sitting a couple yards length away sparked a curiosity in Clarisse this academic prison hadn’t ever been able to.

In an hour’s time the video lesson finally ended, and the class transitioned to their athletics period. She might have been lost on the video lessons, but the weekly schedule of sports was ingrained in her head by now. The repetition almost felt comforting, in a monotonous sort of way. Baseball, running, basketball, running, soccer, repeat next Monday. Today was Thursday, so she headed to the locker room to slip on her track shoes. For as fast as everyone rushed from class to class, she was surprised that they dedicated a full class to running. What was everyone’s rush, anyways?

Clarisse walked through the open doors of the changing room, appreciating the recently risen sun streaming through the skylight. Distracted by her thoughts of this class and by the warm sun on her face, Clarisse didn’t register the individual bent over tightening their shoelaces until she nearly tripped over them.

Just before collision, the crouching figure called “Hey! Watch out!”

In surprise, Clarisse stopped in her tracks, safe from tumbling onto the dusty tile floor, however, the hunched girl was not so lucky. She grimaced as she rocked back onto her heel and fell onto her back with a grunt. In the sunlight, Clarisse could not only make out the bits of dust stirring around her impact, but also recognize the girl as the curly haired stranger from TV class. Under the natural lighting, her hair wasn’t as dark as it had appeared, and Clarisse detected the slight spattering of freckles across this girl’s nose and forehead. The girl squinted up at Clarisse, a combination of being caught off guard and her inability to see in the intense light. The surprise having worn off, Clarisse bent over and offered help up, which the girl took after a moment of hesitation.

She dusted herself off, apologizing with a bright but quiet smile, “My bad, that wasn’t a great place to put on my shoes.”

Clarisse reached out with little regard for personal space, tugging gently at the new girl’s curls. It sprung back up, bouncing delicately back into place.

“I’ve never seen hair like yours before. Wavy, sure. My cousin has wavy hair, I have wavy hair, a lot of people at this school too, but not like yours,” she remarked with a slight tilt of her head.

Clarisse went to tug on another curl, but the girl dodged the hand this time. She didn’t necessarily come off as angry, but her expression revealed at least a mild discomfort at Clarisse’s infatuation. The girl better took in the details of Clarisse’s appearance.

“Hey...you’re in my TV study class, aren’t you? I think I remember seeing you in the back of the classroom.”

Clarisse nodded. “That’s right.”

The girl continued her inspection, Clarisse almost able to see the wheels turning in her head. The girl snapped her fingers in recognition. “You’re that Clara girl that people talk about, the peculiar one!”

“Well, close, but it’s actually Clarisse. Besides, you’re one to talk about being peculiar. I noticed you in our class today, you weren’t watching the lesson like everyone else.”

“Seems that neither were you, by any means I’m not the one spying on the rest of my classmates, am I?”

Clarisse was about to respond before she stopped mid syllable, realizing something was unusual here. She closed her mouth and looked at the girl with a sort of perplexed look. The freckled one raised an eyebrow and waved a hand in front of Clarisse’s face.

“Are you all right?”

This girl didn’t know it, but Clarisse’s disorientation stemmed from the realization that this was the longest interaction she’d had in months outside her family. She’d become so used to being blown off or ignored by the classmates she tried to talk to that she simply didn’t try anymore, and yet this new girl seemed willing to continue to banter.

“Who are you?”

The girl gave another quiet smile. “My name’s Kennedy, my family recently moved here from Dallas.”

The edge’s of Clarisse’s mouth quirked up in a soft expression of benevolence.

“Nice to meet you Kennedy, I’m Clarisse McCellan.”

Before she was able to continue, she suddenly became aware of the empty locker room they stood in. Remembering why she was there in the first place, she grabbed her shoes out of her cobalt blue locker and hurriedly attempted to slip them on without having to re-tie her laces. Kennedy, also having realized she was late, finished tightening her shoes. Despite the expense of a couple seconds’ time, however, she lingered at the door as Clarisse tested out her sneakers.

Satisfied, Clarisse jogged over to meet her at the doorway. She nodded her subtle appreciation, to which Kennedy grinned in understanding. Together, they made their way out to the field with the rest of their class. Looking around at her peers, Clarisse made note of how disinterested and lifeless they all looked. They were pale and squinted in the natural light. It made sense, Clarisse had only ever seen children out and about long after the sun set. The only other person not squinting in the sunshine was Kennedy.

Although much more quiet than in the locker room, the two girls kept a similar pace as they ran around the track together for the next hour. One foot in front of the other, Clarisse focused on the sound of their feet slapping the track. She synced the rhythm of her steps with Kennedy’s, taking special note of the color of the girl’s shoes. They stood out in the crowd of greys and dark blues she and the other classmates wore, as Kennedy’s sneakers were yellow. Not an obnoxious yellow, not one that the Parlor Walls would use in an attempt to keep your attention locked to the screen, but the yellow of autumn leaves that were just about to fall to the ground in late August. Clarisse found herself wanting her own pair of colorful running shoes, perhaps a matching set of yellow, or maybe green.

60 minutes passed of feet on the track and thoughts of pretty yellow shoes, although it felt more like 10, and Kennedy and Clarisse found themselves in the locker room again. Clarisse watched Kennedy unlace the sneakers and move to put them in her locker, however before locking them up, Kennedy instead walked back over with a friendly light behind her eyes and a question on her lips.

“Maybe I could keep my running shoes in the locker next to yours? Then I’ll remember to just lace them up over here instead of in the way of people trying to walk through the door.”

Clarisse had no question in her mind, she liked Kennedy. She liked her curly hair, her yellow shoes. Clarisse liked that she didn’t watch the TV lessons. What Clarisse liked the most was that even knowing her reputation as the odd one, Kennedy wasn’t afraid to talk to or be seen with her.

“Yeah, that’s alright with me!” Clarisse agreed.

Kennedy placed the yellow sneakers into their new home, gently patting Clarisse’s shoulder as she walked past. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around campus, Clarisse. Maybe we have another class together?” she said with an air of hope in her tone.

Clarisse could not remember the last time she felt a friendly touch from someone who was not her mother or uncle. She liked it. “Maybe, I guess we’ll have to see,” Clarisse figured as she put her own shoes away into the cobalt blue locker.

Sadly, they did not, in fact, have another class together. But Clarisse had still managed to get through the rest of her school day somewhat painlessly and now she could not wait to get home, which felt like an entirely other planet compared to her school environment. Unlike any other household she’d seen, the McCellens were a family full of life and laughter. Unlike the others, they owned one single television that was no bigger than a picture frame. They used it sparingly, however, only to watch important news programs. As strange as it sounds, they actually liked to talk to each other about their days and bond.

“How was school today?” Clarisse's mother Diana asked as Clarisse walked in the door after making the 20 minute walk from school. Clarisse had always preferred to walk places, if she could, instead of riding in an automobile. The school bus’s reckless driving speeds frightened her, and she liked to breathe in the air around her, catch glimpses of the nature that snuck its way into the starkly artificial city she’d come to know. She liked the feeling of the sun on her face and the wind blowing through her hair as she walked. Whether it be blistering heat or bitter cold she much preferred experiencing the world up close at her own pace than through the window of a speeding car.

“It was okay,” Clarisse responded with disdain, “would be better if they would actually teach us.” She hated the way school was. Everyday she went to school and sat in front of the Wall as it played whatever lesson lined up for the day. Such a waste of time for a world wanting to run so quickly. The school had teachers, but they were more like orderlies, sitting in rooms watching over the kids as the screens relayed answers to questions no one asked. Clarisse could not remember the last time she heard one of her teachers actually speak, they didn't even take attendance anymore. Nobody asked for clarification on anything, nobody spoke or seemed to think at all. It was as if they were all mindless drones moving from point A to point B completing government imposed tasks, going to bed, and repeating it all the next day. Clarisse wanted more from life.

Diana looked at daughter and felt sorry for her.

“I know, honey,” she sighed.

She knew how Clarisse felt about her curriculum. Clarisse yearned for knowledge, for mental stimulation and connection, and Diana knew it. They all did, but they also knew the risks in looking for anything greater.

The two sat there for a considerable amount of time before Clarisse spoke, “There is a new girl at school,” she said waiting for her mother to look at her before continuing, “she’s not quite like the other students. I mean, for one, she actually spoke to me, unprovoked. Well, I admit I almost tripped over her, so maybe it was a little provoked,” she said.

Her mother chuckled softly, “How so?”

“Well I was walking into the locker room to get my track shoes for running and she was there right in front of the door crouched down tying her shoe w-”

“No,” her mother interrupted, “how is she different from the others?” she finished with an amused smile directed towards her daughter.

“Oh, right. Well we were in TV studies watching some lesson about some guy named, hmm something something cogsworth,” her mother laughed and shook her head at her daughter's clear disinterest, “and I was looking around the class and she stuck out mainly because her seat was empty yesterday. When I noticed her, she wasn't even looking at the Wall, she was looking down at something she was holding in her hands.”

“Hmm. That is different, did you find out what she was holding?”

“I know! That's what I was thinking. And no, I didn’t find out. I guess it slipped my mind. Now, she did have these very peculiar running shoes. I didn’t notice them until we were out on the track, but they were such a lovely shade of yellow.”

“Yellow? Why, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a yellow pair of shoes,” her mother remarked in an interested tone.

Clarisse continued on about her day, until they were interrupted by her uncle and cousin coming through the door.

Diana greeted them, “Hey, there you guys are. Just in time for dinner!”

At this comment, Clarisse noticed for the first time that her mother had been making dinner the entire time they were talking. How long have we been talking? Not that it was any bother of course. Clarisse took her few school supplies to her room and went back down to the kitchen to wash her hands and set the table while the others washed up.

They were all now sitting around the table eating their dinner and making small conversation. Yet another way they were unlike the other ‘families’ of their city, they made a point to eat dinner together every single night and talk about their day. Most would never even think of sitting in the same room as their family members for such a length of time. Even finding a household with children present was a long winded task in itself, most children having been sent to live in dormitories on the school campus.

Clarisse’s family was known to stay up late into the night talking and laughing with each other, just enjoying each other's company. While the rest of the town was sleeping with their seashells stuck in their ears, Clarisse and her family would be up and talking about what their day had entailed. Tonight, Clarisse was telling the rest of her family the story she had told her mom earlier in the day when she got home from school, the story of the strange girl from TV studies. The girl who was much like Clarisse.

“I think she said her name was Kennedy,” Clarisse noted at the end of her story realizing that she had never mentioned her name.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind meeting this Kennedy if she is anything like you described,” her uncle said after she had finished talking.

Clarisse and her uncle were very much alike. Both of them liked to learn about new things in any way they could, although, their options were very limited due to the censorship imposed by the government. Unbeknownst to most but likely suspected by many, Clarisse’s uncle Calvin dealt in literature related affairs once, many years ago in Atlanta. A ring of smugglers, you could call it, involving Calvin himself, Clarisse’s father William, and a childhood friend Benjamin. Once a month, the bunch snuck out of their city, across a creek, and met with the travelers along the railroads. Disregarding however you might understand these factions to behave today, the original goal of this organization was to trade novels and documents in an attempt to keep the words alive and active. It ran smoothly for many years to the point it became as routine as slipping a pair of pajamas on before bed. Sneaking across the creek, trading books with the travelers, sneaking back while avoiding any police or firemen. Calvin and William would often share these publications with the very young Clarisse and even younger cousin Isaac. They were less than enthralled by the Articles of Confederation, however, the odd fairy tale would pop up now and again that gave the children a night to look forward to. Diana was never very comfortable with the arrangement, but understood why the men acted as they did and knew she couldn’t stop it if they tried. As nervous as she was, she wasn’t sure she wanted them to stop. She was perfectly content loitering near the childrens bedroom door listening as her brother-in-law and husband recounted tales of princesses and dragons and whatnot.

Of course, this happy arrangement couldn’t last forever. 15 days after Clarisse’s fourth birthday, the men came face to face with a Hound that was waiting on the bed of the creek they’d crossed so many times before.

“Hurry up Willam!” Calvin called out loud enough for just the two men to hear, “We only have a few hours until we have to be back.”

“I know that,” William responded in a hushed tone, “I can hear the water flowing, we’re almost there anyways.” William couldn’t remember a time that he and his brother wouldn’t meet up with their childhood friend, Benjamin. Even as young boys, the men and their fathers would make the monthly trip. The three of them would cross the stream and meet whatever group of travelers was passing at the time and trade various goods. The men would often give the travelers food, water, clothing, and matches in exchange for something greater than currency. Books. These men were risking their lives for pieces of literature they would otherwise have no way of obtaining.

“Where is Benjamin?” Calvin questioned as they stood at their meeting spot before crossing the river, “And that new guy? Where is he?”

The group had recently adopted a fourth into their group. An old professor, called Fabio, or maybe Fainer. William had only met him once, so he couldn’t quite remember. The man had been an english teacher at a local university, that is, very long ago. Before they were shut down. There was no use for professors of any sort anymore. No one attended school beyond what the government required, not that there would be anywhere to gain a higher education anyhow.

“Sorry I’m late boys,” Benjamin stated in his familiar gravely whisper as he walked up to the duo. They all made a point to speak in hushed tones only, even all the way out here in the woods. They could never be sure who was listening.

“Where is your friend, Ben? The old guy,” Calvin asked as his friend walked up.

“Dunno, haven't heard from him in a while” Benjamin started with a long look on his face.

They all knew what this could mean. The man had either been found out, or he decided to get out before anything bad could happen to him. They all hoped it was the latter for his sake.

“Doesn't matter,” William stated with determination in his voice, “let’s get a move on.”

The men all turned to face the river and began the rest of their journey. Before they could wade into the water, they all stopped dead in their tracks.

“Did you hear that?”

Of course they all heard it, they all stopped so they all must have heard it. They looked at each other, with a look of fear in their eyes. There was a snapping of a twig. A rustling of the dry leaves that had fallen from the trees. And that's when they noticed the threat.

“Is that-”

Benjamin’s hand flew to cover Calvin’s mouth, urging him to be more quiet. The Hound. They all heard the somewhat familiar mechanical whirling of the beast. It sat across the creek, waiting for them to cross. It had found them.

Ben slowly retracted his hand, “What do we do?” Calvin asked, much more quietly with fear in his voice.

“Think we could outrun it?” William asked, knowing the answer to that question before he even asked it.

“Not all of us. Maybe if we split up…” Benjamin began but stopped before finishing.

“Maybe if we split up, two of us could make it home...” William finished, knowing what his friend was going to say.

The three stood there for longer than they should have. They now could see the infamous glowing green eyes stalking them. How could something so robotic, so impersonal, radiate such an evil energy?

“We haven't much time. We need to make a decision. Now” William whispered harshly.

“You two go,” Benjamin said hesitantly, “You’ve both got families and children, I’ll do my best to hold it off.”

“Ben, we can’t just leave you here to die” Willaim retorted in disbelief that his best friend would even suggest something like that.

“If you don’t get a move on, we are all going to die,” Benjamin urged.

He looked at his childhood friend William with a sad, but reassuring look in his eyes. Ben was right and they all knew it. He’d already made his decision even if the brothers wouldn’t agree.

William knew this wasn’t his choice to make. Ben wasn’t going to go with them, and William couldn’t stay here and leave his daughter fatherless. He pulled his friend into a hug and gave him a sad look, whispering his gratitude before tearing his eyes away and quietly but quickly making his way back through the woods. Calvin squeezed Ben’s shoulder with tears welling up in his eyes, before catching up to his brother. They were only 20 feet away when they heard Ben scream out and then silence. They both knew exactly what had just happened. They glanced back just in time to hear the Hound coming straight for them in a sprint. They barely had time to react.

Both men took off in a sprint back the way they had come. The foliage soon grew thicker, more difficult to run straight through. Calvin reasoned that it might be even more difficult for the Hound, with its large stature and clunky paws. Maybe they could make it! He glanced to his left, catching a seconds-long glimpse at his older brother. William was looking back, and gave a grim smile. The expression confused Calvin. He turned away and focused only on the trail beneath him. He ran and ran, his lungs and legs threatening to give out beneath him. Even when he couldn’t hear the metallic clattering of Hound against tree bark, he still ran. Another glance to his left, and he realized the treacherous wooded path had split him and his brother up. He could only keep running, reasoning his brother was in the same condition as himself. William was always stronger, always smarter and more agile. He had to be alright. It wasn’t until Calvin had reached the outskirts of the forest and stopped to catch his breath that he realized the eerie silence that had settled around him, and he began to worry.

In a shaky voice, he quietly called out, “...William? Did you make it out alright?”

He was only met with silence and a faint buzzing from a street light he could see in the near distance. He swallowed thickly.

“William!” Calvin called out loudly this time, not caring anymore who knew he was out there. His voice broke with exhaustion from the chase, and from the grief as reality sat in.There was no response. William had known the only way either would make it was if they were to split up. That's why he did it, Calvin was sure. He thought back to William’s unusual expression right before he’d disappeared. Calvin realized his brother knew that was the last time they would see each other. Calvin sank to his knees as his eyes began to water.

When Calvin had finally gone home that night he could barely face Diana. How was he supposed to tell her that her husband and father to her only child was dead? His stomach dropped as he opened the back door to be greeted by Diana’s carefree humming, as she wiped down the oven with an old white rag. On the table sat three plates of food, freshly prepared after what should have been a successful trade. Calvin felt silent tears roll down his dirty face as he looked at the plates. The tears stung in the scratches the tree branches and vines had given him during the fateful dash home from the creek.

Without looking up from the stove, Diana called out, “Gosh, you boys are home early! How was the trade tonight? Pick up anything interest--”

She turned expecting to see three men, but instead found herself facing only her brother-in-law. His hair was slick from sweat and sticking out in all directions, and his eyes were red and sorrowful. Her breath hitched as she realized what had happened. She dropped the rag and her knees buckled, and lean on the counter for support. Calvin couldn’t find any words, he only silently walked over and attempted to console her. She shoved him off and pointed a finger at him, her jaw set in an expression of contempt. This anger quickly faded into agony, knowing she shouldn’t blame him any more than she could William or Ben.

In a shaky whisper, she said “...I always told you three...I was NEVER comfortable with this. I knew you guys wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever, I told Billy, I...I…”

She wept quietly, attempting to not wake the children, and accepted Calvin’s hug. Pulling away, she asked “Are they still after you? Did the Hound catch your scent?”

Calvin shook his head. If the beast had caught his scent, he doubted he would’ve made it home. The two stood there, sniffling and trying to compose themselves.

“All those books you’ve collected up in the attic? I want them gone, burned by sundown tomorrow. I’m not putting Isaac or Clarisse in any more danger.”

As much as it pained him, Calvin nodded in agreement. If there was anything Calvin learned that night, it was to keep his own desires in check in regards to the safety of his loved ones.

Calvin hated to think back on that night. He hated that there was nothing that he could’ve done. He knew he was not the only one to blame, but that fact wasn’t going to bring back his brother. They’d all known the risks when they started, they'd known what could happen, but they’d tricked themselves into believing it never would.

Though only influenced by the novels for four short years, Clarisse grew up with a wisdom beyond her years. An old soul, someone with such innocence and yet her eyes seemed to carry an enigmatic presence behind them. Calvin and Diana did their best to nurture her obvious growing intellect and imagination, and it showed. Clarisse had blossomed into a young woman with an intense desire for mental stimulation, for a fulfilling and purposeful life. Although they would have loved her no matter what she grew to be, her mother and uncle couldn’t be any more proud of how she turned out. Of course, not many children of this day and age grew up in such a supportive household.

The ideals and steady morality they had instilled in her along with her unique temperament was off putting to many of the children in her class, therefore, it wasn’t often she was able to find someone who both wanted to talk to her and was worth talking to. She had an odd energy about her. Although her personality was decidedly a strong and solid one, she had a reflective quality about her. As though talking to her made one recognize the things wrong with themselves and the people around them. It made people uncomfortable, everyone preferred to remain happy and ignorant to their own dissatisfaction with themselves and life. And so, she grew up with only herself, and her family. Although it was a bit sad, Calvin and Diana were almost relieved. They’d heard of what happened to the children after school hours, what they would get up to. There was a reason that 16 children died in the past year alone. They knew the reason those children didn’t want to become self aware was because they knew the guilt and weight of their actions would cripple them. The horror stories they’d heard of children killing one another, both by accident and with intent, kept the two of them up at night wondering how the world ever turned so rotten.

Even though she was excluded from this tragedy, Clarisse empathized with these students to the point where she almost took on guilt for not being able to help them. She pitied them rather than blamed them for their often disturbing behavior, instead, pointing a finger at the mind numbing and excruciatingly boring school days.

Diana had questioned her, “Well if that’s true and the schools are to blame, why haven’t you? You go through all the same motions as them.”

Clarisse tilted her head in thoughtful expression.

“I suppose it’s not just school, I mean, not everyone has grown up with a mom like you, and an uncle like Calvin. I’m sure that makes a difference. Besides, who knows what I’ll be like when I’m grown. There’s still a couple of years of school left to melt my brain,” she said.

Diana glanced over with mild concern to be greeted by a nonchalant smile from her daughter, indicating she was only joking.

Calvin passed down stories from his own grandfather, of times that children didn’t kill one another for fun or to blow off steam. Clarisse was skeptical, could this really be true, a time when children didn’t kill other children? But he swore it to be true. He didn’t say it outloud for fear of upsetting the apparently comfortable Clarisse, but he deeply wished she might be able to find someone more like her, someone outside her family to connect to. He thought back to the bond between him, William, and Benjamin, even outside their book affairs. He wished profoundly for Clarisse and his own son Isaac to be able to find at least a third for their dynamic, someone who matched their energy, but he had essentially given up hope by this point. However, the news of this new girl, Kennedy, stirred the little hope he still held onto these days.

“I don’t know her very well yet, but would it be okay if the two of us hung out after school? I think she’d get along well with me and Isaac,” Clarisse asked hopefully.

Isaac glanced between his cousin and his father, awaiting an answer. Although holding the same morals as his family, he took after his aunt, Clarisse’s mother, and her often reserved or nervous personality. Where Clarisse stood out at her school and found herself often alienated, Isaac better blended into the social scene of his classes. That is to say, he didn’t have the same preceding reputation as the slightly older cousin. Many didn’t notice him at all, and wouldn’t guess they were related. Even around his family, the people he trusted, he appeared introverted. Someone who was content to just listen.

“Well I don’t have any issues with it,” Calvin said with a shrug, “what do you think about it Diana?”

Diana chewed on her lip, thinking over the preposition.

“Do you think her parents would be ok with it?”

Clarisse replied, “Well, most parents I know let their kids do whatever they want from the time classes let out to midnight, so I’m sure they’d be alright with her coming over for dinner or something. Anyways, I can have her ask her parents for permission.”

Diana smoothed the napkin beside her plate. She didn’t trust many people, and regardless of how nice the girl was, there was the potential of upsetting parents by taking her into their home, especially given their family’s notoriety as the odd family of the town.

“Just be sure that she asks her family, but otherwise I’m okay with it too,” Diana finally replied with a small smile and a nod.

Isaac and Clarisse grinned at each other from across the table in anticipation of a great friendship to come.