Chapter 7 Science “So, what should I call you?” I thought out loud as the shadow began to uncrumple and mend the six dead wasps that I had collected over the past two days back together. “How about Sebastian? No, How about Bainu? No still doesn’t sound right how about-” I continued listing off names to myself until the wasps were ready for a test run. I looked at my tattoo and saw around a third of it was no longer glowing an assure blue, which meant a third of my spiritual currency that I had put in it was already gone. I gritted my teeth in frustration at seeing just how weak I truly was and then focused my attention on my life energy to see how much of it had recovered. My life energy was recovering faster than when I first took a chunk out of it. It made me wonder if the energy was recovering faster because I took less of it out this time causing a mild case of light headiness compared to the passing out incident at the playground. I noticed something else about my life energy that made my eyes widen at the discovery. It had grown bigger than it was a few days ago. It was not an enormous difference but, it was noticeable not only that, but it was still had not fully recovered. I commanded the wasps to fly around my room in a circle expending their energy as I thought of what this could possibly mean. I went to call for my supernatural friend remembering that I still did not have a name for it and got annoyed again. “Victor, what does it mean that my life energy is stronger than it was a few days ago?” The shadow scarlet red eyes turned to me and its shapeless form rippled, and a humanoid head began to take shape. After only a few seconds of the shadow twisting and turning it took on the shape of a young man no older than his early twenties. Its shadowy hair blew in the nonexistent wind and it smiled at me with its shadowy teeth. “Is this my new name master?” It asked in a boyish voice. “Yes, I think it shall be your new name. Do you like it?” The shadows humanoid face smiled even wider its smile threatened to meet the back of its head causing even me to be slightly disturbed. “It is a fitting name since we will be victorious and stomp on our enemy’s bones and make them cower before us.” It said in a menacing voice. Gods damn it, I thought as I remembered how squeaky and high pitched my voice was. I wish I had my dark menacing voice back. The shadow frowned for a second and looked thoughtfully and it melted back into its shapeless form and then continued to speak. “I, unfortunately, do not have an answer for you on this question. I have never been to this world before and it seems spiritual currency is made differently here by your kind then it was back in the other world.” My frustration began to flare up again annoyed at the thought of another mystery I had to solve. I looked at the barely glowing tattoo on my right palm, opened a jar, and commanded the wasps to fly back into it each one of them landing in the jar and the energy leaving their bodies. They began to crumple back up almost immediately, and I slid the jar back under my bed and decided to take a break. “Look you were bonded to me Friday night after school. Today is Sunday which means tomorrow I have to go back to school. So when we go I need you to stay out of sight, I don’t need the mortals here to react violently.” “Why, do we fear them? You are a warlock after all should we not be able to have the power to slay any mortal that dares defy us?” “In my original world mortals that had no magic, they only had steel swords, shields, and arrows they were only a nuisance to me. The mortals in this world however seem to have science as their weapon.” I started to hold an imaginary object called and pretended to point it at the door closing one eye. “They have weapons in a verity of shapes and sizes called guns that need no magic, they just point at the target a loud bang is audible and the target falls over dead.” I stopped holding the imaginary gun and went to stroke my beard out of habit and for the umpteenth time got annoyed that I no longer had one. I growled as I tried to think of a way to acquire one of the weapons for myself. The problem was I didn’t have the foggiest idea on how to even find one not only that but, I wasn’t able to go to many places without an adult to supervise me. An idea popped into my head and I grinned and turned to Victor. “Victor, do you have any contacts in the other dimensions that would allow me to speak with a mind-spirit that would be relatively safe to talk to?” Victor form twisted and turned for a few moments until he took on the shadowy appearance of an older man that looked to be in his mid-fifties. He wore spectacles and had a bushy beard with a warlock’s robe on holding a book flipping through the pages slowly. He spoke with an educated voice that had an accent that I was not familiar with and talked to me like I was his apprentice and he was my master. “There are no such spirits that are relatively safe to deal with when they are not under contract.” He said closing the book it abruptly vanishing into a puff of shadowy smoke. “But, I gather you mean to ask me if there is a way for us to summon one under the right conditions that make it less likely that you will be harmed.” “Don’t speak to me like I am a child!” I said hotly. “But you are a child,” Victor said in a jesting voice. Victor's form went back to being shapeless his red eyes meeting mine. “Yes, I can think of a couple of ways to contact a few mind-spirits that I know in a relatively safe manner. Why what are thinking about master?” I grinned at Victor as excitement began to fill my veins. “I have a plan for us to acquire a gun.


Tris cast a probing look at the entryway a few yards in front of her. To any other person, the red haze emanating from the caged lights on either side of the expansive ingress served as an eerie repellent; the chasm of darkness beyond, a dissuasion from closer inspection. Her heartbeat quickened as she took in the depth of the dark, the untouched look of the natural stone walls. Everything in her trilled in anticipation of slick palms, cool, dark depths--the familiar unknown. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Tris squinted against waning sunlight, at the perfect angle in the sky to at create an eclipse around a broad-shouldered human with light eyes and a worried look as he passed Tris a harness. It was packed with the silver shine of a tightly wound thermal blanket, a small flashlight, a lighter, fire starters, and other charms. “I will be absolutely fine.” Tris eyed the pack, well intentioned and completely useless. She grimaced, pushing the harness back infinitesimally and quickly turning to another human with a bright smile and her own doubts. “Tris, have you ever thought that these things might be traps set by some evil, trying to pull you away from us?” The bright smile flipped off in a moment, concerned brown eyes set earnestly in a pleasant, sun-sweetened face. “‘Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.’” Tris smiled wryly, though she hoped it came across as a comfort, rather than a chide. Tris surveyed the klatsch of people, each representing a piece of her and currently present to wish her luck in what some of them viewed as a folly and others saw as bravery--another deep dive into places few dared venture. She felt each pair of eyes on her, and, regardless of their view on her sanity, an air of morbid curiosity seeped from most of them. Their gaze was a constraint that she would be free from once she delved into the mystery beyond. The darkness beckoned to her as the babble of a brook to those seeking respite. She breathed the leaden air, closing her eyes to begin to focus on her task. To be challenged and wholly met , to be heeded and allowed to explore in her own power--each lungful of air and tick in time and space it represented cleared their judgement. Tris opened her eyes, mind clear and calm. Her skin, eyes, hair--all were radiant with light that could be felt rather than truly seen. Her footsteps were sure and unhurried, resolute, as she approached the darkness. She did not turn to see who stayed to watch. On the wall outside of the darkness, Tris took a mallet from her belt along with a peculiar screw stretching into an eyelet on one end. She efficiently clocked the top of the eyelet twice, pummeling the sharp end into the wall between two stones, then twisting to create notches that would catch the threads. She attached a carabiner with the end of a length of rope to the eyelet and made sure the rope let out smoothly from her belt as she moved into the deep. The lifeline pulled easily away from her as she fingered the edges of the sarsen inside of the cavern. The edges of the rock whispered back to her in a solemn tone, wholly unintelligible. Further down the dark, rocks pattered onto the pathway. The walls of the cave changed from the natural, though wind-polished, stone to sharp, rough earth in a matter of minutes. The solidity of the ground changed as well, the clay floor sliding to limestone half steps as the walls closed in subtly around her. Tris stomped in some places, lips upturning as the floor gave way and she slid feet, sometimes yards, into the depths. She bent to the shape of the cairn, the walls and ceiling now twisting irregularly to produce odd and narrow spaces in the stone. The quiet pressed in on her ears until it wasn’t silence any longer. The rocks held voices like before, all at once dissonant and too quiet to understand, but perfectly evident nonetheless. Tris’ pace quickened as she realized she could understand more with each step deeper into the depths hidden by stone. Ahead of her, small stones pattered into the pathway. “What are you?” The words slipped from Tris’ mouth faster than her mind could stop her. “Fire and flame. And what are you?” The rich voice emanated from the same rocks around her. “Careful and sure.” Her words again came unbidden. “Are you sure?” She bit her lip, wryly noting that her hesitance negated her answer. She stared at her surroundings, focusing with extra caution on a small fissure at her feet. She stepped carefully through the narrow openings, placing her feet with delicate assuredness. A sure wrong step in this tight place could be better than one placed without confidence. One small decision could be the difference between fates. “I know what you are.” The deep voice came stronger from the rock. “Am I... careful? Sure? That’s what I’ve said, anyway.” “No. You are stubborn, calculating. You are a shrew, digging deep into places that ought not be delved.” “Hmm, no. But I implore you to try again.” Tris smiled through her words, the presence of the darkness pressing close, exploring her shape even as she contorted again to make her way through a large gouge in the stone. The voice spoke again, but far off, and Tris quickened her pace to catch the words in their energy, “...to... me.” “Let me ask a question...” Tris’ voice echoed in a larger chamber, startling herself. “Anything.” The voice breathed back gently. “Tell me who you are?” “I am impulsive and aggressive. I am self-serving.” The low voice spoke matter-of-factly. “Yet you’re... dependable. Expressive. Kind?” Tris matched the energy. The energy settled into a companionable silence. “I can shape what you are.” The deep voice emanated once more from in front of Tris, far enough away to quicken her steps once again. Tris shook her head, “Only should I choose.” She ducked into a smaller space, then inched her way through a tube to hear the even voice. The line on her belt tugged at her impatiently as she moved from the tight tube to the next small path. Tris sighed, untying the next bit of line to connect to the current one and back to the carabiner at her hip. She could hear the voice ahead of her, softly. “I’m retying my line,” Tris called to the... What am I talking to again? The light around Tris’ body dimmed as she tied off the line back to her carabiner. A deeper darkness crept across Tris’ boots as she slid her body through the slight openings in rocks. She breathed heavier than she had been. “You’re slow. Are you going to give up?” The voice observed and asked without inflection. “Hell no. I have to prove them wrong.” Tris stumbled over a low ledge in the stone floor. Her hands groped at imaginary supports as she tipped forward onto the hard, jagged floor of an open cavern. Tris hissed, pushing onto her butt, and touching her knees and shins where they smarted. Cool liquid from hot skin lubricated her fingertips. Tris stared into the darkness, eyes wide shut against the expansive room and the being across from her. The being glowed in infrared, red under black, like cooling lava, and flowed outward, darkness engulfing darkness as it perceived Tris’ presence. Small rocks pattered onto the stone floor. Tris’ eyes had yet to adjust to the change in their lighting, and she sat utterly blind in the darkness as she sifted through supplies at her waist by touch. She touched the nylon of the small first aid kit, tugging at the zipper, before she felt the distinctive edge of the carabiner she used for her lifeline holding it firmly in place. She unhitched the carabiner, momentarily setting it beside her, before sifting through the small nylon pouch for gauze and a Neosporin packet. “I know what you are.” Tris froze as she noted the difference in the origin of the voice. This time, the voice was much closer and tinged with something Tris was having trouble placing. “And I have told you what I am. It’s my turn.” The voice whispered through the air next to Tris’ ear, sending a shiver down her spine. She heard a slight scraping noise at her side. “Your turn? For what?” Tris whispered back, the second darkness creeping up her collarbone and closing around her throat. “More.” The voice sounded from behind her, back where she had tripped against the ridge in the floor. Tris placed her hand at her side to grab the carabiner and started. She moved her hand back and forth over the space next to her for a moment before she realized what she had heard as the voice had passed her. Her throat was tight as she jumped to her feet and spun. “No!” Her voice was too loud, echoing around the cavern. Then the sound morphed. A deafening noise rent the air as the pathway collapsed, sending a whoosh of air into Tris’ face. Tris felt the patter of several small rocks against her legs as the debris settled in front of her. All at once, the voices of doubt and caution of the gaggle echoed through the cavern, taunting as they matched the final reverberations from the fallen rocks. Tris stilled with the ebb of the sound, until the blackness around her and the silence within her threatened to do away with her completely. Another moment, and the pitch shifted. "No." She set her jaw and moved forward, slowly climbing a mound of rubble from the pathway’s roof. She began to silently unpack the stones.


“Come on Jen, the holiday is almost over by now!” Brad jeers out from the front of the van. “Give me a second, doofus,” I yell back, as I finish locking up my house. “I’m going now!” He pretends to drive off, as I lug my suitcase over to the van. “Very funny,” I say to him, and Micky helps me put all of my luggage in the boot. I smile gratefully at him. “Thanks M.” “You’re very welcome.” He treats me to a dazzling smile, as he opens the door for me to clamber in. “Just ignore Brad - he’s had far too much air already.” “We’re going on holiday!” Brad revs the engine, and then, without warning, drives off down the road. I look at everyone in the back of the van. Micky takes his seat right at the back, by himself, whilst Ella and Stephanie (or Steph, as she likes to be called) sit just a row in front of him. Ella gives me a small wave, whilst Steph jumps up and envelopes me in a warm embrace. “Lovely to see you,” she says to me, and draws back. Her thick, Scottish accent is really prominent now. “It’s been ages!” “Well, if you hadn’t been gallivanting around Scotland, I might have seen a bit more of you,” I tease, and she playfully hits me on the arm. I navigate around the luggage, which lies abandoned in the centre of the van, whilst Steph returns to her seat. I take my place next to Micky, who gives me a perky nudge. “Everyone ready?” Brad eyes us all in the mirror, as we reach the end of my road. Everyone hollers at the back of the van, and Brad grins at us. “Then let’s go!” We head onto the highway, and set off for our holiday. Brad swerves dangerously around cars, us clinging to our seats as we laugh through the journey. We have been planning this holiday for ages now - almost 7 months. After we left university, we vowed we would see each other often, not wanting the fantastic memories we made to fade into oblivion. However, once all of us got stuck into our jobs, none of us ever had corresponding schedules. I am currently a journalist - or trying to be. At the moment, I fetch coffee and page people, so not exactly living my best life yet. My dream is to be a news reporter on live TV, but there is still a long way to go before that. Ella has always been the most determined and sophisticated out of all of us, and is studying to be a scientist. Stephanie has a flair for cooking, so she’s aiming to be the best chef out there; and judging by the food she produces in the Michelin star restaurant she works at, it won’t be long before a food critic snatches her up and helps her start her own one. Then there’s Brad, who has simply no idea what he wants to do next. He barely made it through university, and we spent many sleepless and soul-destroying nights trying to teach him all the content in as minimal time as possible. Suffice to say, we were all flabbergasted (albeit, extremely pleased) when he passed. As for Micky... I’m not too sure what he’s moving onto next. He’s always been a very introverted soul, and doesn’t open his mouth much. Well, except to me. “I want to know what he’s taking,” Micky whispers to me, nodding at Brad, who is admiring himself in the reflection of his mirror. We are cruising along at a considerable speed, as the sun blazes down, hitting the roof. Windows rolled all the way down, a light breeze flutters in and out of the van, and it dances around all of us. I waggle my eyebrows at Micky. “Whatever he has, I want some,” I reply back to him, capturing a bit of fluff that soars through the window. “And I want vats of it.” “Hey, you need to share!” He says to me, and he digs me in the ribs playfully. “What you got there, J?” “It’s a fairy!” I unclench my hands, and show him the soft, white ball that is enclosed in them. “You make a wish on them, and then blow, and your wish will come true!” “I don’t believe in that magic nonsense,” Micky says to me. Another fairy floats in, and he catches it nonetheless. “But, I guess there’s no harm in trying it out. You go first.” I do as he instructs. I clasp the fairy carefully in my hands, and shut my eyes tightly. A million hopes and wishes blast through my mind, but eventually, I find one to settle on. I say it in my head, and blow the fairy out of the window. “Your turn.” “You’ll have to wait now; you took so long, my fairy went to sleep.” “Don’t be silly,” I roll my eyes at him, watching as he pulls the fairy close to his chest. He places it near his heart, and concentrates with all of his being. His cheeks are flushed with excitement - I wonder whether he’s nervous from talking to me, or if I’m just imagining it - and he has a soft smile on his face as he opens his eyes. He blows the fairy away, just like I did, and shoos it out of the van. “All done. I hope it comes true.” “I hope it does too. What did you wish for?” He tuts at me. “Don’t you know anything about magic? If I tell you, it won’t come true!” “Alright, Master of Magic, I won’t ask again,” I laugh at him, and we end up rolling about hysterically on our seats. The afternoon flies by, and by the time we reach our destination, everyone is asleep. Crazily, Brad is also included in that statement. I wake to the sound of the tires screeching, as he pulls out from behind a car he was unknowingly crawling behind. Ella thumps him around the head. “You could have killed us, chump!” She huffs, and at least he has the decency to look concerned. “Keep your bloody eyes on the road.” “Yes, mum.” He winks at me in the mirror, and I give him a smile. I turn my head to see Micky’s resting on my lap. He’s snoring peacefully, and although his chin is coated with dribble, he does look adorable. I brush a strand of hair from his forehead, which causes him to stir. He lifts his head up, notices me, and begins to grin from ear to ear. “Are we almost there? How long have I been asleep for?” “Yep, we’re just arriving now. And I don’t know; I also took a nap. But at least I didn’t drool all over your jeans.” I point out the wet patch on my knee, and he gasps. With his hair tousled from his sleep, he looks as if he hasn’t showered for days. He cradles his head in his hands. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, J.” He grabs a tissue from his pocket, and wipes at the stain, but alas, it doesn’t help at all. I place my hand on his, and give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t be silly, it’s okay,” I grab my handbag as Brad parks up at our holiday destination. “Just remember, it’s not normal for you to drool all over girl’s jeans - at least, not on the first date.” “Oh is that what this is? A first date?” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I can slowly feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a first date with you.” I mumble, and twiddle my thumbs, suddenly interested in the wooden flooring that adorns the van. “But I wouldn’t say this is a first date either. We’re just in a van, that’s all.” “That’s true.” He sucks in his tongue, and rubs at his eyes. He clasps his hands together, and then unclasps them. Whilst the others leap out the van with their luggage, me and Micky remain in the backseat, awkwardly sitting next to each other. Micky inhales deeply, and sits forward to face me better. “So, hypothetically, if I was to ask you on a first date, right now, what would your answer be?” “Well, hypothetically,” I answer, my breath taken away by the butterflies in my stomach, “I think you should probably ask, and then you’ll find out.” He nods. “Jenny Feather,” he looks me up and down with his hazelnut eyes, flecked with little spots of grey - unusual, but very pretty. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” “I’d love to!” I answer immediately, almost too ecstatically. He laughs, relieved by my answer, and my eagerness to meet up with him. “Thank God,” he says, “I guess that’s my wish complete.” “What? Really? You wished for that?” I ask him, and by the nervous look on his face, as well as the twinkle in his eye, I can confirm the answer. I beam at him, feeling my temperature rising to be hotter than the sun. “Well I wished for a kiss from you.” “Really?” Breath knocked out of him, Micky mulls over his thoughts, and then flashes his pearly smile at me. “Oh no! You told me, so it may not come true...” “But it still might!” I hint at him, and he lips his lips nervously. “So, shall we make your wish come true?” “I think we should,” I tell him innocently, but as he moves closer, the door to the van opens. “Come on lovebirds: the villa is ours!” Brad shouts at us, waggling the keys at us. He grabs my luggage, and throws it towards our holiday house. Micky shakes his head, and shrugs at me. “I guess your wish will have to wait for a little while longer.” “I guess so. Promise you’ll make it come true though?” “Promise.” He holds his pinkie out solemnly, and I follow with mine. We share a knowing look, one that sends ribbons of joy through my body. We bundle out of the van, excited for the new experiences we are about to have, and for the romances that have yet to occur.


I can't believe he's gone, Jolene thought as she sat down on the outside porch for her morning tea. Keith was the love of her life and in an instant that life was taken from her. They were together for six years. Sitting down for morning tea and talking about their future together was their favourite past time. As she sipped her warm chamomile tea she was thinking about their life together while a single tear was released from her eye. Jolene just couldn't believe how it happened. Keith was out of town for work. He worked in construction. He went wherever he was needed. He was staying in a cabin two hours outside of the city. There were four other men staying in the cabin with him. The story that Jolene heard from the other construction workers is that Keith was sleeping. Another worker put a pot of oil on the stove to cook some french fries and then went outside for a cigarette. The pot caught fire and the whole cabin went up so fast. They didn't have time to get back in the cabin to get Keith out. Keith was the only one caught in the fire. Jolene was so mad at the whole situation. Keith was just sleeping and he was the only one that lost his life. I'm never going to see him again, she thought. I'm never going to sleep next to him again. I'm never going to even have another fight with him. I'm never going to hear his voice again. "I never left you". "Huh", Jolene jumped. "Who's there?" Suddenly, a feeling of calm came over her. Her hand started to tingle. All of a sudden she had the over whelming feeling that Keith was with her in that moment. "Keith, is that you?" "Yes, my love! I have never left you. I never will." Jolene looked at the empty chair to her left. Slowly Keith's aura started to appear. He was smiling and holding her hand. "You are so beautiful, my love!" Jolene just started to sob. She wanted to hold him so close but she knew that she couldn't. "Honey, why did you leave me? I miss you so much, I have never felt this much pain before." "Oh Jolene," Keith exclaimed, "you know I didn't want to leave you. Things happen for a reason. I love you so, so much. You know that. I never would have left, if I had a choice." "I have been with you this entire time. I know you have been struggling and you have been in a lot of pain. That is why I am here. I have been granted this short time to appear to you, just this once, so you can have some closure." "No, Keith!" Jolene yelped. "Not short! Not once! Please stay." "You know I can't. Let's just sit here for a little while and enjoy each other's company. Like we used to. They continued to sit and talk for the next two hours talking about the life they had together. Keith was even able to get Jolene to laugh a few times. Jolene was enjoying the morning so much that she was starting to forget that Keith wasn't truly there with her, and that he was going to have to leave soon. After talking for two hours Keith realized that he was going to have to leave and he wanted to help her ease some of her pain. "Jolene, my love! Please know that I didn't suffer in those last moments!" Jolene let out an enormous sigh of relief. "That is one of the things that has had me so worried. I thought you went through so much pain when you died." "No, not at all. I didn't feel it at all. I was sleeping and just didn't wake up. It was just the smoke." "Well, I guess that's a little comforting to know at least." Jolene said. "What about now though? Are you in any pain?Are you at peace?" Keith smirked at her. "I told you I haven't left you, I meant that. To be with you everyday is the best thing ever. I am so happy. "I just wish I could be with you everyday." Jolene frowned. "I know you do, my love. But just remember, I'm always with you. When you are sitting out here drinking your chamomile tea every morning, I'm with you. Just look at this chair and you will know that I am sitting here with with you. You can talk to me. You might not hear my answers, but I will definitely hear what you say to me." "I will talk to you every day then." "You can talk to me about your good days and your bad days. Tell me funny stories that make you laugh. I love watching you laugh. You are so beautiful when you are just in the moment and laughing without a care in the world." "Jolene, um, when you're ready I don't want you to hesitate to move on either." "What do you mean? There is no one else for me." "Right now, maybe not, but I don't want you living a lonely life either. I know you won't be ready for a long time, but eventually, please think about finding someone else. Even just a friend for companionship. I don't want you to be all alone. That's not healthy for anyone." Jolene was feeling very uncomfortable and looking at the ground now. "I'll think about it." "That's all I ask. I think It's time that I go now, my love." Jolene's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Oh, okay. I love you so much, Keith." "I love you too. Forever and always." Keith stood to stand in front of Jolene. He bent down to give her a kiss on the lips. It didn't feel like a normal kiss though. She just felt a slight tingle on the tip of her lips. She will remember that feeling forever. When he stood he said "remember, I will always be with you," and with that, he was gone. Jolene took a few moments to cry and remember the last few hours. Once she composed herself she stood to bring her tea cup in the house, she had a smile on her face now. She couldn't wait for her morning tea tomorrow.


OH goodness me! how in the sweet heavens did you manage to even get up here?.. that sounds incredibly reckless. I'm not quite sure what you planned on gaining by ending up here but kudos to you. I’ll chock it up to being so tiny and I bet the lack of fur and scales helped with your efforts. It is quite nice to have someone show up even someone of your species, since I haven't seen another soul of any kind in well over a thousand years... You want information? Well I assume i could tell the story of how we both got here, you deserve it after managing to travel this far. Let me think, well i remember how you all used to look, still so young and you were covered in so much fur. Now you're building quaint little stone huts and starting the foundations of a real city. When i look back now, it makes me so proud to have supported all of that. Even with your company I cant hide the fact that I will always miss the others, it would at least be nice to get some sort of message from them through my crystal globe. I wish we would've added more globes to this room so I could gaze upon more than one planet and see all the other chosen species grow. Though, I suppose after being atmosphere locked here by my family I don't deserve little luxuries. When I was younger I definitely pushed too many things for it to be ethical. They are part of the reason you are what you are now. A little over a thousand years ago when I first showed up here, we were here to set up a base on this planet for the soul purpose of assisting a designated life form to become fully sentient and intelligent enough to eventually increase the population out in space so that more technology could be traded and that creativity could be pushed further. There was supposed to be a different species that we were going to assist but my meddling changed the plans. There were four others besides me when we first came here. The units we travel in are always composed of our siblings, this would allow for easier communication between planetary leaps since the dead of space doesn't let sound travel. I'm sure your species will figure out your own method when you're old enough. Having siblings also allows us to leave our parents at an earlier age since we will already have that established support system, which would take way too long and cause more problems than necessary if we had to do that with other Nogards, we only have 5,000 years to travel the universe after all. One of the members was my older brother, Galax. I think I miss him the most. He had to have been the most creative nogardian to ever exist. Then there are my 3 sisters; Stratia, Sapphora, and Luna. I believe they were the main ones to plan out my imprisonment here, if my sisters are any indication of what the rest of my clan are like then females are more intelligent than any male could ever be, almost to an evil conniving degree. Hmm? you appear to be hungry.


‘Humans are smart,’ his Mama had said. Between the gentle embrace of her teeth, neck prickling with heat as she carried him by the scruff, she had spoke that wisdom into his skin. Muzzle held high even as she had limped her way into their home, leaving bloody prints in the shape of her paws. ‘They are crafty’, she had continued, softly laying him on the cave floor, ‘Cautious and paranoid. *Dangerous*.’ Then she had lowered herself to the ground with a groan, leaning on her side. Stretched out her hind leg to inspect the wound there, fur matted and tinged with red. Licked at the side of his face when he had shrunk back and whimpered, eyes wide at the sight of her blood. ‘Don’t cry, little one. Take this as a lesson,’ she had whispered, slowly rubbing her neck into the space between his ears, ‘You may not have weapons like they do, but you have your *mind*. You have to be smarter than they are. Slyer. More cunning. Promise for me, son. Promise me that you will.’ ‘I promise, Mama,’ he had shakingly said, ‘I *promise*.’ And she had *smiled*, muzzle pulling back from her pretty teeth, eyes glazed. He had tucked himself against her chest, more terrified than he had ever been in his life. She hadn’t made it through the night. From then on, he had hardened. Adapted. *Survived*. Learned how to protect himself against the humans, how to keep himself fed. Knows which ones to go after and which ones to leave. Teaches himself to be wary. So, when he sees the little child in the red hood, he doesn’t immediately go after it. He stalks and waits and watches, hides behind trees and foliage. Eyes alert and ears flicking to catch any sounds. (Human children are inherently naive, he has learned. Clumsy too, struggling to walk when pups are already hunting on their own, helping out the pack. Their easy targets when they are solitary but it’s rare that they ever are. Almost always surrounded by the others in their pack. Not so different in that regard, he thinks wryly.) But, this child is well and truly *alone*. Humming to itself as it skips its way through the winding path, a basket held in its hand. It’s unaware and it’s careless. When it stops to talk to a squirrel that had happened to walk into its path, he thinks, *this is the one, this is it*. When it stops again to sniff some flowers, he makes himself known. Slinks out from between the leaves of a bush and watches as the child jumps back, blinking owlishly at him. “I’m sorry,” he says slowly, keeps his jaw loose and his tongue heavy, his maw feeling foreign like it always does when he speaks the human’s language, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just saw you walking here and wanted to say hello.” The child tilts its head before it smiles, jittery sounds coming from its mouth that he figures is laughter. It boldly walks up to him and lays its hand on his head, rubbing it. He fights the urge to snap at its fingers. “That’s okay, Mr. Wolf!” it says, patting his head before returning its arm back to its side, “It’s very nice to meetcha! My name’s Red, what’s yours?” He slowly wags his tail in a show of contentment, wiggling his ears in a way that has the child laughing again. He doesn’t try to smile as it tends to have the opposite effect on humans. “Red? What a peculiar name,” he replies, keeps his voice soft and light, “Though, I suppose, I’m not one to talk as I have no name. You may call me whatever you like.” The child brings its hands to its stretched cheeks, rocking on its feet. “I’ll stick with Mr. Wolf then!” it says, raising its arms like it just accomplished something, “Also, Red isn’t my real name, silly! It’s just what people call me.” It lifts its shoulders in a jerky movement that he still hasn’t found the exact meaning of. The child is still smiling so it mustn’t be bad. “Well, Red, may I ask what you are doing out here?” he questions, slightly tilting his head down to peer at her with wide eyes. “I’m here to see my granny, she lives just down this path, near the brook,” it says, “She’s sick and I brought some food to make her better!” It raises the basket up to his snout but he pays no attention to it, mind already working. (Granny means grandmother, he remembers. An elderly human, female; usually weak. And this one happens to be *ill*. If he plays this right, he can have more than what he had aimed for. He could have a feast like one he hasn’t had for *years*.) He has to fight down the pleased growl that crawls up his throat. “That’s a *shame*. I *truly* hope she gets better,” he says, flatting his ears and hunching his body in an appropriate fashion, “I wish there was someway I can help- Ah!” The child jumps at his exclamation, circling its arms. “I just remembered!” he continues, eyes glittering, “There’s a flower back from where you came, small and with blue petals. It soothes muscle aches and sores, if you eat it.” And the child looks at him with its mouth wide open, teeth displayed. Its hands are pressed together in front of its face. “*Really*?” it says, and he bobs his head up and down in a way he’s seen humans do a million times over; the child smiles big in response, “Thank you, *thank you* Mr. Wolf! I’m gonna go look for it right now!” It runs down the path, red cloak billowing around it and he finally allows himself to smile. He stalks up the road in the opposite direction, tail wagging softly behind him. He thinks he quite likes the name Mr. Wolf.


When Adelaide thought about how her day would be going, going down a canyon in a popped blimp that is currently on fire was not what she had in mind. The yellow snakes on her head hissed wildly as she felt the scorching heat on her skin. Of course she was going to get a faulty blimp! Just when she was going to get the most interesting story! No one in the city ever treated a gorgon with their utmost respect and concern. Let alone, a gorgon who is also a journalist. I am not dying like this! She thought fiercely. The blimp was being pulled by five pegasi. That was her only option for escape. She hitched up her skirt, gathered it, and tied it in a knot that hung by her knee. Her older sister had taught her how to do that a while back. She didn’t do it too often because her mother said it was “unlady-like.” She climbed onto the edge and without hesitation, jumped. She landed on the nearest pegasi and cut the ropes. The rest of the pegasi flew freely. Adelaide tried to steady the one she was on. It was a pretty navy one with a white stripe on its face. She had never even flown a horse before. Just as she predicted, she and the pegasus crashed into the river below. Adelaide crawled onto the riverbank, coughing and sputtering. She laid down on the soft red sand, looking up at the sky. She heard a fierce neighing and turned her head. The navy pegasus was trying and failing to fly. She stood up and untied her skirt. The pegasus whinnied in defeat. Adelaide neared the pegasus carefully. The winged creature snorted at her. She leapt back, but regained her courage and neared closer. The pegasus calmed down, and bowed its head letting Adelaide pet him. Adelaide’s snakes neared the horse in curiosity. She brushed them aside and looked at the pegasus’s wings. One of them was scorched. “I’m sorry about your wing...” she apologized quietly. The pegasus blinked. “Do you mind if I call you Midnight? You look like a Midnight.” she told him. Midnight bowed his head lower. “I think we need to find civilization. Or at least shelter for the night. I think the most logical thing to do is to travel home. First, we need to help your wing.” she informed Midnight. Adelaide looked around. She smiled when she found a cactus-like plant with blue tips. She took part of it and rubbed it on Midnight’s wing. “Nix Aloe Vera. Helps any burn no matter the degrees. Learned that trick from interviewing a medicine-woman.” she said proudly. Midnight relaxed. Adelaide took what was left of the reins and led him through the canyon. The wind blew across Adelaide's face. She heard a faint sound of a harmonica playing in the distance. She led Midnight towards the sound. She came across an old hut with an old human couple. The man played the harmonica and had a large torn-up hat. The lady was quickly knitting a scarf that had skeletons decorated into it. Adelaide cleared her throat. “Um... Excuse me... Do you know where the nearest town is?” she asked. The old man stopped playing his harmonica and mumbled something about corn syrup. “I beg your pardon?” Adelaide asked. The lady shrugged. Black shawl rustling. “He’s sayin’ there's a town a few miles up the river. You’ll get there sweetie.” she replied without looking up. Adelaide nodded, surprised that they didn’t even look disgusted by her appearance. “Thank you. What’s the name of the town?” She asked. “Jackalope, sweetie.” “Thank you.” Adelaide and Midnight walked through the canyon for several hours. Jackalope. Why did that sound familiar? The sun felt scorching. Adelaide feet dragged against the dirt. Thoughts about the town’s name buzzed around her head. Then she saw a grove of trees in the distance. Her face lit up. Usually in the desert, when there is a random grove of trees, that means someone planted them there. Her feet quickened. Sure enough, a faded wooden sign sat just a few feet in front of the grove. Jackalope. The town of Jackalope was fairly small. There were a few houses, an inn, and an old church. Adelaide found it a little off that there wasn’t a post office or even a library. It must have been a new settlement. What bothered me even more was the fact that there was not a person in sight. Just a lot of Jackalopes. They moved away when they saw her. A gust of wind flew through the trees. She began to feel uneasy. “Salutations.” said a small voice. Adelaide whipped around. It was a young girl with the complexion and ears of a deer. She even had white freckles dotting her cheeks. She looked to be about five years of age, which is why it surprised Adelaide that she knew a large word. “Um... Hello.” she replied. “You are exotic-looking. You must be a stranger.” said the deer-girl. Adelaide looked around to see where the girl’s parents were. “Y-yes. I’m trying to get home. My blimp crashed. I was supposed to interview someone.” she told her. The deer-girl put her hand on the ground. “May I ask who you are interviewing?” she asked. Orange flowers started to appear around the deer-girl’s fingers. Adelaide backed away. Magic. “It w-was a man... who disappeared for ten years... claimed to have stayed at a strange inn...in a strange town...” she continued warily. The deer-girl nodded. She pulled out a piece of chalk. “Can you write your name please?” She asked. With a shaking hand, Adelaide took the chalk. She knew she was being silly. After all, what could a piece of chalk do? She started writing. A. A wooden floor appeared under her. Adelaide gasped. “Go on.” the deer-girl assured her. Adelaide felt like she had to keep going. D. Framing appeared around the wooden floor. E. The wooden frame was covered in white walls. L. Wallpaper appeared. The wall paper was a navy blue with stars and yellow snakes on it. A. The ceiling appeared. A large dome with stars. I. From the ceiling came a circular chandelier. D. Shelves full of desks started to appear. E. A large desk appeared at the edge of the library. Adelaide felt herself growing dizzy. “Thank you for the library Adelaide.” the deer-girl chirped. Everything went black. “Over here! There she is!” yelled a voice. Adelaide opened her eyes. Midnight nuzzled one of her snakes. She saw the blimp on fire. The piece of chalk was in her hands. Adelaide closed her eyes again, and drifted off to sleep. When she woke up, she was in a soft white bed in a room of bustling nurses. A woman with yellow snakes on her head sat in front of her. Her sister. “Adelaide! We thought we lost you! You were asleep for three weeks! The doctor was about to declare you dead! Thank goodness gorgons are hearty!” her sister cried. Adelaide blinked. Could it all have been a dream? Then an elven man walked in. “Telegram for Adelaide!” he announced. “From who?” her sister asked. “I don’t know. It’s anonymous.” Adelaide took the telegram. A shiver ran down her spine. Adelaide’s library. Town of Jackalope. That was all that was said. Her sister looked at it. “Isn’t that the town the missing man was talking about in your letter?” she asked. Adelaide could only stare at the telegram. Jackalope. Adelaide.


**To: Lucas** **Fm: Tracey** Happy Birthday! I know it's been a long time but I wanted to say Happy Birthday! I don't know why you stopped talking to me, and sometimes it makes me furious but well... I still wanted to say happy 21st. I’m doing well, in case you are wondering. I’ve moved out of my parents place into a share house near the city. I’m still working at Lone Steaks, it sucks I know but it pays the bills. I am thinking about heading to uni next year. Maybe take a course in theater production or music or something. My Dad still thinks I should go into dentistry like him. But I mean yuck right? Who wants to spend all day with their hands in other peoples gross mouths. Plus who wants to spend that long at uni? I’d be like 25 or something by the time I finished. And even then I’d only just be starting out. I don’t know... All I know is I want to travel. Like we used to talk about. I miss you. I miss us hanging out and acting like idiots. I wanted you to know that. To know that I miss you and that if you would let me I would forgive you. Tracey:) **03-12-2011** **To: Lucas** **Fm: Tracey** Lucas, Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me? I don’t get it and it’s bullshit. How can you go from being someone’s best friend and always hanging out to BAM disappearing. Like WTF what happened? Please just email me back! Or better yet CALL ME! I want to be friends again OK? **21-06-2012** **To: Lucas** **Fm: Tracey** Hey, I know it’s been ages. And I still don’t get why you wont talk to me. But I figure fuck it. You don’t have to talk to me for me to talk to you. I heard from a little birdie that you moved to Sydney for uni. CONGRATULATIONS! I would love to have said goodbye to you in person but I suppose you didn’t want that. So here I am saying goodbye to you via email! GOODBYE! HAVE A GREAT TIME! Don’t forget about us up here. I still think about you all the time you know. I hear songs on the radio that we used to jam to and it tears me up inside. Part of me is so happy because of the great times we had, but then part of me is just burns because you won’t talk to me. Because you aren’t here. Please Lucas, just send me a message. Anything! Tell me you hate me and never want to speak to me again if you want! I don’t care. All I want is to understand. Is it because of George? I don’t even speak to him any more! And nothing ever even happened! Look, please just call me. I want to talk this all out. My parents still ask about you. My Mum is always like “Trace, why doesn’t Lucas come around any more?” I don’t know what to tell her. What should I tell my Mum Lucas? I miss you. Your old friend Tracey **05-10-2012** **To: Lucas** **Fm: Tracey** Hey M8, Well happy birthday again. I suppose we will probably never talk again. I don’t care Im going to keep sending these. It’s only fair! If I still have to dream about you then you have to hear from me. I had a dream the other night about the day we spent down near the creek. When we made boats out of bits of tree bark and then raced them. You named yours the Capt Price after that game you were obsessed with and I call mine the SS Ess because I’m hilarious. Remember who won? Yeah that’s right the SS Ess, because S stands for Speed! Actually I'm pretty sure you still owe me a donut from that day. A bets a bet and you lost mate. Probably time for you to pay up right? I suppose that’s probably a donut I’m going to have to buy myself. I hope you are having a great time at uni. Happy Birthday again. From some silly girl you used to know. **10-10-2012** **To: Lucas** **Fm: Tracey** Lucas, I miss you. I really fucking miss you. I don’t care about whatever this is about. Please just call me. **14-01-2013** **To: Lucas** **Fm: Tracey** I GOT IN! I know you don’t care but I got in to UNI! Not dentistry like dad wants. I'm going to do a Bachelor of Music at ANU! That’s right in Canberra! That means that as soon as you want to be friends again I will be only a short train ride away. Dad is super proud and happy for me. Mum is just freaking out about how I will take care of myself living so far away. She keeps going on about who will be there when I’m sick? Who will be there when I get the flu? I’ve told her a million times it’ll be OK. That I’ll make friends and that they will take care of me. I saw your little brother the other day BTW. He came in to my work to have dinner with that Leah girl from his grade. I think they were on a date. SO CUTE! I think they will be amazing together. I was going to ask him about you but didn’t want to ruin there date. I did organise to send them out a free banana split to share. Like we used to. I thought it’d be nice for them. And well the store hasn’t sold many splits since we stopped doing our Thursday night desserts. Anyway, Donut Boy. Call me when you decide to be a person again. I am still waiting for you Trace **05-10-2013** **To: Lucas** **Fm: Tracey** Happy 23rd Birthday! I don’t know if you read these or not but in case you do..... HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you are loving Sydney and uni. I know I am loving it here in Canberra. Well except the winter bit. It was RIDICULOUS! Who knew it could be so cold in Australia!? It was like living in a freaking fridge! From an old friend who still thinks of you Tracey **05-10-2014** **To: Lucas** **Fm: Tracey** Lucas, Happy birthday again. I suppose I will probably never hear from you. To be honest I don’t even know if you still use this email address. You are probably graduating soon which is awesome. I am finally going to go traveling! I’m going on exchange to New York! I leave in January. I am so excited and scared. I’m going to attend the Mannes School of Music for a full semester! I actually managed to get a scholarship to help pay for it too. So yeah, I thought I would let you know that life is going well and that I’m not mad at you any more. I suppose all I hope is that you are happy and that no matter what I will always be your friend. Yours always, Tracey P.S. My number hasn’t changed. You know in case you wanted to call. **05-10-2015** **To: Lucas** **Fm: Tracey** Lucas, I know it’s been a long time and you have probably forgotten I even exist but well I haven’t forgotten you. Even as everything in life changes the one constant is that at least once a month I will think of you and smile. You were the best friend a girl could ever ask for. Thanks for being there when I needed someone. Oh and Happy birthday again. Love your old friend Tracey. **16-05-2017** **To: Tracey** **Fm: Lucas** Tracey, I don’t know how to start this email. I’ve written it up maybe 1000 times over the years and every time it sounds wrong and I get all crazy so I delete it. I have so many things I want to say all at once. Sometimes I wish I could send you a psychic message. To tell you that it’s not your fault, that you are an amazing person and that I am sorry. Part of me wants us to be friends like we were when we were kids. Part of me wants to call you and tell you that I have thought of you every day. But that I just couldn’t do it. Because I am weak and scared of my own emotions. Another part of me thinks I should never reply. That it’s best we both just go on living our lives and forget about each other. Wouldn’t that be easier than apologising and dealing with all the stuff? But then I suppose if that was easier, I wouldn’t still dream of you and wake up filled with guilt. So I have decided to fix it. After all these years I am going to tell you why I disappeared. I disappeared because I can’t not love you. I love you Tracey! I love your smile and your laugh. Every time you send me an email I read it, I smile and I cry. I smile because I am happy that you are happy. And I cry because you never ever not even once say anything about that day. You go on and on about not understanding why I won’t talk to you. I told you Tracey! I told you at the creek that I loved you and I wanted to be with you and what did you do? You looked away all serious for a long time then you made up that silly boat race game. You ignored my feelings! And I being the wimp that I am let you get away with it. I went along with your silly game and I thought to myself that maybe you just needed time. Every day we hung out after that I would wait for you to bring it up, to say something. To give an answer to my love. But you never did. And eventually I decided that the only way for me to live my life was for me to live it without you. That’s why I disappeared Tracey. And to this day it hurts me. Deep in my soul it hurts me that you couldn’t love me back. It also hurts because I know that it’s not fair on you. You never asked for me to fall in love. All you wanted was a friend. So every time I think about you I feel guilty and ashamed because I wasn’t strong enough to be your friend. So there it is Trace. I disappeared because I loved you and knew you didn’t love me. I couldn’t live my life with you in it. I knew that I would never be able to love someone else with you around so I had to cut you out. I feel guilty about it all the time but well it is what I had to do to live my life. I am so sorry. You are an amazing person. Love always Lucas.


“Why did you give Gertrude the Baker a bat as a familiar?” Esmeralda asked, placing her pointed hat on her desk and leaning back in her chair. Her silvery curls spilled out, framing her sharply featured face. I shrugged and gave her my winning smile. “It was her arms,” I said. “They were the flabbiest I’d ever seen and she wouldn’t stop waving them around and shrieking in excitement. Boom. Bat familiar, perfect match.” A column of swirling smoke rose from her pipe as she held it between her teeth. “It seems you didn’t think about the fact that she is in the free-range child business, did you?” She replied. “With that giant bat flopping around, it’s scaring all the kids away. She’s only been able to lure two kids into her shack since then and they’ve been goth kids. Do you know how much extra work they require to prepare, removing all the piercings and so on?” “I’m sorry Miss Esmeralda,” I murmured. “Next time I’ll consider a puppy or a predatory balloon.” “By Hecate, I swear!” she snapped, sparks flying from her pipe to mirror her frustration. “Puppies turn to slavering dogs; Float-a-chokes would eat her supply of brats. Last month you give nearly blind sorcerer a snake as a companion. He mistook it for his wand and got bit a week later.” “Everyone makes mistakes,” I said. “He had a problem with rats eating his potion ingredients. I thought it would help.” “He died, Oswald,” she snapped. “Familiars and Friends has been in business for over a thousand years, and this is the first time we’ve ever been sued. If I lose the company my grandfather founded, I’ll banish you to one of Neptune’s moons, I swear it! Now go clean the kennels before the next client comes in.” I lowered my gaze and slunk out of her office. Okay, so maybe some of my matches have resulted in fires, businesses going under, and the occasional death - they all seemed like good ideas at the time. Perhaps they would have been good matches if it were not for them being used in spells and their dark workings. They were seen as tools, little more. Maybe if they spent the time to become friends and communicate, things would turn out a little differently. Maybe that entire suburb wouldn’t have been shifted into another dimension. With bucket and mop in hand, I made my way through the stone and mortar halls, scrubbing down the pens and taking ample time to scratch a black cat behind the ears and dispense treats to the otherwise squirmy and neglected sorts. Through my patrols and scouring, I finally came across a large door - the largest and heaviest of the lot. Runes of warning were carved into it, flashing red, and four massive locks kept it held shut. Even the faded streaks of blood and desperate claw marks pulling into it would frighten off most. But I couldn’t help but smile as I entered, and before I could even put my keys away I was met with a deep and thunderous snarl like the coming of a great storm, a snarl that seemed to echo with the dark and ominous incantations. “Muckle!” I said throwing my arms wide. “Good to see you too!” The hell beast crouched in the corner of the room, with a coat as black as coal and a single eye on the right side that smoldered red like the heart of flame itself. The other eye had been lost when he had eaten his first handler, and the next few didn’t last so well either. But he and I always seemed to get along well enough. Cleaning up after Muckle, however, was about as easy as you would expect for a ravenous dog almost as large as a horse. He came to Familiars and Friends when he was just a puppy and was thought to be some street mutt. It wasn’t until he made a meal of Jasper the Beastmaster that they became suspicious of his true nature. Strangely enough, the scent of sulfur didn’t give him away sooner. Muckle picked up a gnawed fragment of a ribcage and plodded over to me and dropped his offering at my feet, unleashing a gale of fetid breath as he tried to lick me. “Who didja bring me here,” I asked. “Is that a bit of... old Samuel? How sweet of you, sharing with me.” I gave him a good scratch behind the ears and rested my head on his muzzle. He was a gentle enough spirit once you got to know him, and put aside his history of devouring those who displeased him - and my love wasn’t feigned. I think he knew it, too, with affectionate snarling and snapping when I drew near. I felt like he understood me, almost as much as I understood him. A sudden crackling filled the air, and a nasally voice spilled from the wooden speaker in the corner of the room. “Oswald, a new client has entered admissions,” said Janice the secretary. “I’ll be back soon,” I said to Muckle, giving him a pat on the snout before rushing out the door. I stashed my mop and bucket in the closet and paused by the window which opened into a room enchanted to feel like a meadow where bunnies hopped joyfully. I focused more on my reflection and made myself presentable before rushing off towards the entrance. I staggered in, winded, and finding a young lady sitting at the table. She seemed lost in her thoughts, absently twirling a lock of her long, sapphire hair around her fingers. “Pleasure to meet you,” I said, introducing myself. She stood and gave a faint curtsy, keeping her eyes down. “My name is Misty,” he spoke softly. “I’m hoping you can help me find a proper familiar.” “Tell me what it is that you do, and what you need!” I said in my usual spiel. “I am a botanist, I spend a lot of time outdoors to find ingredients for potions,” she said. “Anything that could help would be nice.” I tapped my finger to my chin and nodded a few times as ideas flitted about my head like moths hypnotized by a lamp. “Well then,” I said confident in my conclusions - as I always was. “Let’s go on and find you a familiar!” I led Misty through the warrens and introduced her to a number of our more outdoorsy and mild familiars. “Meet Sir Stetchen! He’s covered in dangerous needles, can burrow, and loves nature,” I said, holding out a small hedgehog in cupped hands. “This one was bred for the spines to be venomous!” Her eyes soften and a faint smile pulled at her lips, which was the most of a reaction that I had gotten from her. I had thought for sure that the swarm of carnivorous butterflies would have been a good match - clearing away any insects from the herbs she sought, as well as handling any enemies she may have earned. But instead, she sighed and moved along. If Sir Stetchen could get a reaction, however, maybe one of the other rodents could catch her attention. “How do you feel about... Bunnies?” I asked. Part of me felt as though it would be a poor choice, considering they might eat the plants she needed but surely he wouldn’t be responsible for burning down a library this time. Damn, bunnies were flammable little things, and warlocks used far too many candles in their rituals. Misty shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt to meet them.” “Excellent,” I said as I lead her down the hall I had been cleaning earlier. “Maestro Llipa can turn into multiple rabbits when frightened, but always pulls back together after a few moments. Great amusement, but the cleanup can... can.” I found the words knotting up in my throat as my eyes traced the paw prints that were sunk into the stone, leading to the splintered door that led into the rabbit habitat - or the rabbitat as we in the business called it. Okay, maybe only I called it that. I looked through the window to find Muckle sitting there, a tatter of white fluff contrasting his ebon coat hanging from the corner of his mouth. He let out one of his snarls and the glass of the window rattled and quaked as if it could break at any moment. “Let’s ah... go back over there shall we?” I said with concerned joviality, but Misty stood planted firmly at the window. “He’s... perfect,” she said, her amber eyes growing wide. “I would have never guessed you to have a black shuck in your possession, considering... well, you know.” I nodded knowingly because I did indeed know. I knew better than old Samuel and so many others who met their fate in Muckle’s maw. Misty turned to me, brimming with excitement. It was the most emotion she had shown since they had met. “Bring the paperwork,” she said, then crooked a beckoning finger towards Muckle, who bounded out of the door with such force that he slammed against the wall, which brought a bright peal of laughter from Misty. “Come with me,” I said, swallowing hard as I led them back towards the office. My quill swung back and forth, sending flecks of black ink all hither and thither as I nervously eyed Muckle who had resigned himself to sitting in the corner, growling and staring straight ahead with his glaring red eye. “Alright,” I said as I pushed the vellum forward. “Sign and date here, here and... initials here... rune of binding and drop of blood there. Alright, by the power vested in me by Zavrael the Bitter Lord, I pronounce you Witch and Familiar.” I didn’t know if my sadness was because I knew that she was inevitably going to be eaten by the beast, or because Muckle was leaving. I had watched him grow from a small sulfurous whelp to the magnificent young shuck that he was now. Mop, feed, scoop the poop, mop, repeat. Unfortunately, none of the furry friends - or their poops - were as interesting as my dear friend. It felt like just yesterday he spilled out of the crate filled with straw and a deer carcass. The smell never quite improved, but our bond flourished. The familiar sound of static filled the air, and I picked up the bucket in preparation to head to admissions. But instead of Janice, Esmeralda’s voice boomed overhead, taking me off guard. “Oswald to my office - NOW!” I dropped my bucket in a strike of fear, and slowly made my way up the stairs, dread boiling in my guts like a cauldron full of poison. Esmeralda sat at her desk, pipe held so tightly in her teeth it seemed like she would bite through it as she sat blowing a column of sparkling red smoke. “The demon-damned Black Shuck?!” She snapped through her clenched teeth. “I thought that I had that thing put to sleep. You thought it was a brilliant idea to sign it off as a familiar? You’re more of a fool than I thought.” “She was fully aware of what Muckle is,” I said defiantly. “He seemed to take quite a liking to her.” Esmeralda rolled her eyes. “Of course he did. He was trying to get her guard down so he could eat her, no doubt!” I wrung my hands and furtively looked around her desk for a report. “Did he eat her?” I asked, not finding any such indication that he had. “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time! We’ll have to close our doors for good when it happens.” She slammed a small bag of coins on the table. “Take this, your last pay. Get out of here before you do any more damage.” I stared at the coin purse, taken by chill despite the warmth of my blushing cheeks. I had never felt so ashamed, failing despite my best efforts. Everything felt I did felt like the right thing to do. Unable to find the proper words, I took my payment and left. She was right. It was a bad decision to sign Muckle up as a familiar. I walked the busy streets, bundles of parchments detailing my history and talents tucked under my arm. It was difficult to find work in the line of matchmaking and beast tending. Even more so when you left a swath of destruction in your wake. Screams roused me from my grousing, and I looked up to see a crowd of frantic faces as the people charged towards me with little disregard for the fact that they knocked me square on my back. Before I could even right myself, a massive presence bounded upon me. It’s sharply clawed paws pinned my shoulders down and all I could see was a great maw of dagger-like fangs opening before me. Sulfurous breath choked me, and I was fairly certain I could see the decaying remnants of a hand in the back of its throat. I always knew my death would involve getting eaten by a beast or monster, but I always suspected it would be in the line of duty, not being ripped apart in the streets. But the maw of fangs did not close around me. I craned my head around to see a solitary red eye glaring at me menacingly. “Muckle?” I asked incredulously. “Is that really you?” The beast let out a strange snarl that echoed with thunder and familiar incantations. I laughed and reached up to run my fingers through his coarse black fur. “It’s lovely to see you, too!” “Sir? Sir, are you still alive?” asked a young woman running up to where I lay pinned. “Oh, I know you; you’re the gentleman who helped me meet Muckle!” “Naturally,” I said, beaming a smile at Misty who extended her hand to help me onto my feet. “He’s been better at going after people, but I knew something was important when he bounded through the streets towards you. He didn’t even stop to torment the children as he loves to do,” She gave Muckle a pat on the back and returned my smile. “I can’t thank you enough. With him as my familiar, I’ve gone about a change career.” “I fear that has culminated in quite the same for me,” I replied offhand. “But it brings me joy that he is helping you.” Muckle let out a snarl and nuzzled Misty. “I’ve come to think of him more as my emotional support monster than a familiar,” she said. “And then it made me realize, why don’t I start a home for misplaced monsters and those who need them?” I looked at the two of them, Muckle seeming happier than I’d ever known, and Misty who moved and spoke with a newfound passion, rather than the haunting distance she kept before. “The only thing is that they tend to frighten and scare people away. It’s been rather hard finding good help,” she continued. My eyes grew wide and I looked around for my resume, finding a copy on the ground I lifted it up. It had gotten sullied and a little worse for wear from Muckle’s tackle. However, it bore his paw print in the middle. I handed the parchment to Misty, who chuckled. “It looks like you have quite the mark of recommendation,” she said with a twinkle in her amber eyes. “Let’s get started, I have some unhatched terrorantula eggs that will need a lot of care, patience, and a loving parent once they hatch.”


When you are around 13 to 16 years, as a boy, some traditional cultures dress one like a magnet. That was exactly the situation I was in at that age. Some the cultures most guys at the age took part in, my family was not interested in such cultures. But what consumes ones thought, actions and speeches must have mattered to the person, if not, why do it disturb ones sleep?. It was so in my youths days to the extent that I usually walks miles to the village square, go to friends that were inclined to and took joy in discussing exploits like that I had feelings were being censored because of me in their presence. I am talking about masquerade initiation in Igbo land. Years back, it was sign of manhood like moustache and beards were. If you have not the privileged to have read the “ Bottled leopard” by Chukwuemeka Ike, do so, it would explain and educate more in all you need to know about the tradition and culture of Igbo people from Biafran land in Eastern Nigeria. It requires a little imagination to digest all what he was crying to pass across there for it somehow relate to another aspect and angle from which I am trying to relate my own experiences to you. During festivals like new yam and other similar ones, when there is a kind of mass returns to celebrate the harvest season, people gather in markets and village squares to celebrate the festival after the traditional ruler with his cabinets, and each representative of each village that made up the town would have prayed to the living God and our Ancestors and thanked them for the bounty harvest and request for their protections and progress. Then, it would be the time for people to gather to watch all manners of Masquerades that at times dance to the beaten of the drums that accompanies the events. Gatherings in village square and markets arenas were the only place where women and non- initiated can gather safely to watch Masquerades without molestation. Outside those areas, you stand the risk of receiving many rashes of cane and doing forced donations to the masquerade and his Entourage. Most towns has their own unique ways of carrying out their own masquerade initiations, activities and ages for initiation differs too. Some towns starts at age of 10 and above, while some, at 17. The functions of the Masquerade remain almost the same in each town: Keeping orders in certain gathering, Summoning interested parties in a dispute Leading young men to deliver punishments in any serious disputes Putting yellow raffia’s to the economic trees that people tampers with it’s fruits. They practically carry out the works of modern day police. So, all these many functions and activities of the Masquerade were what endeared it to the heart of the many young men in any town. The women and the young truly believed as they were meant to that masquerade were spirit that comes out of the ant hole whenever they are needed and return to the Spirit world after performing their duties. The fact that the Masquerade has a kind of diplomatic immunity that frees it from any damage it might have done and holds the person that summons or following it responsible for the damage will show you has it is seen as representative of the spirits in human world called to perform function that benefits humans. During my teenage years, I had tried in two occasions to be initiated into the Masquerade world without success. In those two occasions, one naturally thing or another would happen to disrupt the events. If hefty down pour don’t start without warning as if all the doors in heaven were thrown open and the event would be postponed to another occasions or related festival that warrants the appearance of the Masquerades which is usually months apart and the other initiation were done only in the night for secrecy sake. On another occasion, it was the death of the one well known old man that have contributed positively to the village and the town that occurred minutes to the events that brought it to another halt. In that particular occasion, I was forced to asked the Chief Priest some desperate questions: “ won’t some people go to the family to say sorry and others remain behind to carry on with the initiation?” “It is not done that way my son, even the death of the prominent man like this is an indicator that the Spirits were not in support of this event” “But it have been postponed in two different occasions, won’t be intelligent to see it through this time?” “ That type of intelligence is very dangerous. You don’t question the will of the spirits” “We take risk in coming out this time of the night to event that seen never to hold” “Night might be night to you mortal but the spirits, it is living day light” “Is there no way these intimation ceremony should be moved forward for you know our family house is far from the square” “ Young Man, as old as i am now, I came into this world met this ceremony as it is, I has no plan of tampering with anything involved in it, whether time or items. Our ancestors handed us over both the items and time involved, it is usually 1:30am to 5:00am so shall it continues in my watch” “ So, what are we going to do again with these things we bought ?” “ Only few can go bad, others can stay years, keep them well in about four months, coast might be clear” “Four months is very long time and temptation of not using them are enormous, then I will start wasting resources to buy new ones again” “ Give your parents to keep for you or you can hand them over to my boy to keep." That was how nature kept postponing the initiation till I moved away from my village to pursue other earthly events and somehow lost interest in people and the culture for my nature don’t agree with the whole events anymore.


There is so much hollow fury inside me. Hollow because the lights are out. There used to be lights inside of me but I short-circuited, and they all went out. Nobody knows how much fury I contain because there is no way to express it. A year of my life has dripped down the drain before it even had a chance to start. It happens, during power outages. Things break. Things fall. I am still falling. I was going to spend a year in Germany. I was going to work, I was going to meet new people, I was going to gain independence and I was going to learn. So, so much. But I had an epileptic episode coming off the plane, and all those lights went out. I thought I had only fainted, from lack of sleep. It didn’t feel like it usually does, with the tingling and the light plays behind my eyelids. But it was a five-hour seizure and an induced coma. I convulsed like an overloaded toy no one can turn off until it runs itself out. So they told me-I wasn’t there for any of it. For me, all the lights went out. They took me to a hospital. They put a tube inside me and took my clothes off to do it, and I have no idea how many people saw me naked. I have no idea who they are and no one expects me to ask. The corners of my mouth are still cut deep and I put calendula cream on them every day. My throat hurts from the ghost of the tube and I can’t talk, really, only rasp. I worry that I won’t be able to sing like I used to. But I’m not supposed to worry. I’m supposed to get better. I am no longer that independent adult going to work in Germany, I am once again my parents’ daughter, expected to do what is good for me. For my physical wellbeing. My limbs tremble every time I move them. I am dizzy, all the time. The nurses are French. They are wonderful people. There’s no one else I’d rather be with, now that all the lights inside me are out. Kind, sensible, considerate strangers. I wish my parents weren’t here, taking my powerlessness as a matter of course. I wish I could run away from them and take my powerless self to Germany, where all the sockets are. Where am I suppose to find other sockets? Back home? Waiting while everyone else I know is in college? Scrambling for a job my parents will have to drive me to? Polishing the language I worked so hard to learn, knowing the chances are slim to none, that I’ll ever get to use it? Always out of the loop. I wanted so badly to make that a good thing. There are two female nurses who take care of me, who joke and laugh and help me polish my French in the best of ways. Talking. Trying to understand. There are a couple male nurses who check up on me once in a while who are hella cute. I wish I could stay awake and spend more time talking to the nurses, but then again, I have never enjoyed sleeping so much as now. I don’t feel like listening to music, don’t feel like watching tv, like eating, or writing. Nothing. Just watching the nurses, listening to their talk. When I first woke up, one of the aforementioned female nurses took me to the bathroom and wiped my butt and helped me bathe with baby wipes. I was too tired to care-my heart is an open, busted wire with frayed ends. I don’t know if my dad saw me naked. He took a picture of my face with the tube in it, pale skin and punctured mouth and the impression of near-death. He refuses to delete it. My mom says I should leave him alone, that it’s part of his ‘process’ to have, to look at, to possess the power of deciding whether or not to delete that sickening thing. It’s my face, I want to say. But I am powerless. He isn’t. He should never have taken that picture-fathers take pictures for the sake of remembering beautiful moments. Why did he take that picture? To agonize over, in case I bit it? Out of horrified fascination? What made him pull out his camera while I was lying comatose, breathing through a plastic trachea? What was he thinking? I say nothing. I don’t ask. Because it was they who went through hell, not I. The least I can do is be considerate. I wish I wasn’t so fucking considerate. I am a broken object in a workshop. A tiny world revolves around me-I am acted upon. I go outside in a wheelchair, to a little bistro inside the hospital. There’s this delicious orange juice and delicious salad order that I know I won’t get anywhere else. And I can order them every day. I polish my French with lovely people...God, the French are so diverse. They dress so differently-dress so well. Every shade of skin color, every style of clothing in every color imaginable. All in impeccable taste. Pale, sun-brown, dark, tall, petite, skinny, curvy...they all know what works for them. I have not seen a single person who isn’t worthy of a runway. I am an object, an invalid, so I am allowed to stare. And there is so much beauty to stare at. Outside, the hospital is filled with flowers. The sky is Disney-movie blue. If I could stay here and stare my whole life long...I wouldn’t mind it. Driving a wheelchair is fun. Being driven, by my parents... I get too tired, too often, to mind. And there is so much more to mind about. But to act-I am deadly afraid of acting, of having to act again. What a frightful effort, that is going to be. My friends threw me a goodbye party. My grandmother told me, as I left, “I didn’t think you’d make it. But you have.” I still have the gifts in my suitcase, meant for my host family. A pen for Uschi, a palm grill fan for Miguel, books in Spanish for the kids, Albert and Nico. My favorite books. I wanted so bad to read with them. I made an Instagram account just to document this year. Just to share it. I wouldn’t have minded dying. Wouldn’t have minded at all.


The Stork We’d been trying for a baby for years before the stork came. Hundreds of letters sent to Stork Deliveries Inc., all ignored(or so we thought). I’d always be disappointed when months passed without any response, and my husband would try to cheer me up. We had already given up on the idea of raising our own children and accepted our fate as a barren couple years ago when a mysterious letter flew under our front door. Well, it wasn’t really a mysterious letter; the logo of Stork Deliveries Inc. was printed very obviously on the envelope. I was giddy with excitement when I rushed into the kitchen where my husband was eating his lunch. “Tom!” I cried. “The Storks send us a letter!” “A letter? Who uses those nowadays?” Tom replied with a twinkle in his eye as he took the letter from me and stared at its face. He reached to rip it open but paused. “Sarah,” he said slowly, “a letter from the Storks can only mean one thing. As soon as we take this letter out, a stork will come and hide a child in our house and if we don’t find it within a day, the stork has to live with us until the baby is 18.” “Well,” I said nervously, “we don’t have a large house; there aren’t many places you can hide a baby, and a day is plenty of time. Plus, even if the stork lives with us, it’ll be fine. The Patterson’s across the road failed finding their child and now they have a stork who helps with chores around the house.” Tom nodded, took a deep breath and ripped open the letter. “Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Campbell. Stork Deliveries Inc. are delighted to inform you that you have been deemed eligible to receive a son. A stork has arrived with your future child and is currently in the process of hiding it in your house. If you don’t find the child within 1 hour, the stork will live in your house until the baby is of age or it sees fit. Your timer starts now. STORK DISPATCHED NAME: Ben SEX: Male AGE: 58 ADDITIONAL NOTES: LMAOOOO good luck” “One hour?!” I exclaimed. “It’s changed!” Tom scanned the letter again. “I don’t think-“ He stopped speaking, staring at something past me. I turned and screamed. A stork with yellowed feathers and a stoned expression was staring at us from the entrance of the kitchen. It had a red bandanna tied to its balding head, a faded blue backpack and an orange tag with the number 208794 written on it was attached to its leg. “Is that a stork?” Tom gawked. “Yes, I’m a stork,” the stork replied. “It talks!” I jumped back. The stork shot me what looked like an annoyed expression. “Yes I talk, Sherlock, and I have a name. It’s Ben. Now I’d recommend getting a move on with this child-finding business before your timer runs out.” It pointed at a clock on the wall--which was definitely not there before--and winked. *Right,* I thought. *There’s a child to be found. A child! I’m going to be a mother!* I closed Tom’s open mouth. “Well, you heard it-- uh, him. We have to find the child!” For the next hour my husband and I turned the house upside down looking for the child to no avail. The clock started screeching and my husband and I had to run back home from the roof to turn it off. “Ha, y’all didn’t find him!” Ben taunted as we defeatedly walked through the front door. “Yes, we get it. Where’s the child?” I asked. Turns out the baby was in Ben’s backpack. Tom and I tried protesting that it wasn’t fair but Ben just threatened to fly away and take the child back to where it came from. We reluctantly agreed to let Ben stay for 18 years(“But drinking age is 21!” Ben protested. However, we were in Australia so take that, motherf-), but all complaints were forgotten as soon as we gazed upon the child’s face. And at that moment, I knew I would never, ever, ever give that baby up. Or let it down. We named our child Dave, and over the next 18 years he grew into a strapping young lad. He was a perfect son, and we were so proud of him at his graduation. However, those 18 years were the worst years of our lives. Because of Ben. Of course, after we received Dave, Ben moved into the master bedroom(Tom and I’s)and complained about how small and cramped it was. He constantly whined about how his old family had lived in a huge mansion and fed him the best fish that money could buy. We were too joyful over our son to give Ben much of a crap. The problem started when he stumbled across the cellar. We came home one evening after taking Dave out to the park to a very drunk Ben, slouching on our couch smoking and watching television while eating microwaved pizza with empty bottles of wine on the floor. I believe that the sight traumatised Dave and made him hate the taste of pizza, though he doesn’t seem to remember the incident. I put Dave to bed while Tom scolded Ben and cleaned him up. I hoped that this would be a one off incident, but whenever we were away I would always find evidence that someone had stolen more alcohol from our cellar and a smell of smoke that I could never scrub out afterward. 18 gruelling years of living with a literal animal took tolls on Tom and I’s health. By the time Dave graduated we were only 48 years old but had white hair and wrinkles(and probably lung cancer too). The day after Dave’s birthday, the master bedroom was empty, the cellar was missing 5 bottles of whiskey and Ben was nowhere to be found. Years later we received an invitation to Ben’s funeral. “Ben will always be remembered for the many good things he had done for the company,” the CEO of Stork Delivers Inc. said during his speech. “He had fun at parties, drinking with everyone. He took his colleagues to the bar, as long as the other stork was paying. He...thank you for listening.” Tom and I laughed for a full five minutes once we got home. It would seem that not even his boss thought much of him.