There is a boy in this world. His name is Lexi.  Lexi is a normal boy for the most part. He reads, writes, cooks, and enjoys music and games.  Lexi also loves so very much. And he loves the truth. And, to him, the truth is the truest way to show love.  Lexi also has friends that he treasures so very much. This is a story about a lie told by them to him.  This is not supposed to be a sad story, mind you. This is to be a story about learning right from wrong.  One day, a girl named Mandy wanted to get together with all her friends. All of Mandy’s friends were also Lexi’s friends. However, Mandy didn’t want Lexi to be a part of the get together.  So Maddie went about inviting all her friends to a party. They were all so excited about the party and asked who would be coming. Mandy said that Dee Dee, and Jewels, and Bill, and Dill would be there.  The group of friends was so happy to hear because they were all so close. But then they realized that someone was missing from the invite. Lexi had not been included.  All the friends were upset about this and they asked Mandy to invite Lexi. Dee Dee even insisted over and over because she cared about Lexi and didn’t want him to be alone. But Mandy still refused to invite Lexi and eventually all the friends accepted this, reluctantly.  When the day of the party arrived, Dill sent a message to Bill to see when the party would start. However, the message ended up being sent to the wrong person. Lexi was the one to accidently get the message.  When Lexi read the message, he found what was written odd. He didn’t know what Dill was talking about, a party? So Lexi sent a message back asking about the party.  Dill was embraced about his mistake and told Lexi that there was a party with all their friends. Lexi didn’t hear about a party but he was fine that he hadn’t been invited. Being forgotten about is a simple mistake and such things happen.  Then Dill said that Lexi wasn’t forgotten about, he just wasn’t wanted there by Mandy. This really upset Lexi and he through a fit. Dill told Lexi to stop being a baby but that only made Lexi so much more upset.  After that, Lexi stopped talking to his friends. Lexi was alone for quite a long time, crying over had happened. He was really hurt.  Long after the party had been done with, Jewels found Lexi pouting and asked what was wrong. Lexi found this strange since everybody else already knew why he was so upset. So Lexi told Jewels why.  Jewels could see how hurt Lexi was by this. Jewels tried to explain that it was not any of their friends fault and they did want him there. But that only made Lexi even more upset.  Lexi explained that he didn’t care if he went or not. He didn’t care if Mandy wanted him there or not. He knew not everybody in the world would like him and he accept it. Honestly, he like what Mandy did, standing up for what she wanted against four others. It took courage.  What made Lexi upset was the fact than none of his friends had told him about the party. They all tried to hide it from him, pretending like it wasn’t happening behind his back. They lied to him.  Four people that called him friend, said they loved him, and promised to never leave him alone, all lied. But it was more than that. When Dill was caught in the lie, he still turned his back on Lexi. And Jewels had only just lied directly to Lexi.  Things were only getting worse. These lies were making all the things that were once true into lies. A friend doesn’t lie, so they lied about being his friend. You don’t lie to a person you love, so they don’t love him.  Lexi couldn’t handle this dishonesty. He walked away from Jewels and went to leave his entire home behind. But before Lexi had left, another of his friends stopped him from going. Her name was Zos.  Zos had overheard the argument that Lexi had with Jewels. She could tell that Lexi was very upset and she also knew the reason why he was upset. She didn’t have to but she told Lexi that she had also gone to the party.  Lexi didn’t know this and probably never would have found out. Things would have been fine between them if she never admitted it but things were better than fine. Lexi wasn’t mad at Zos. How could he be? She was honest with him unlike the others.  Lexi thanked Zos for being a true friend. Her honesty had made him very happy. But it wasn’t enough to stop him from walking away from it all.  Lexi was gone for a long time. He walked and walked, through the night and day. And while he walked, he tried to understand what had happened.  Never did he stop walking. Never did he stop thinking about what had happened. Never could he fully accept what was done to him.  That is until . . .  One day Lexi stopped walking. He did this because someone was standing on the path in front of him, blocking his way. A girl that he had never seen before was directly in front of him with a wide smile.  She introduced herself as Mimi and asked what Lexi’s name was. Lexi told her his name and then asked her what she was doing. Mimi said that she wanted to ask Lexi that same question.  It turned out that Mimi had seen Lexi walking, though he had never seen her. Every time they crossed paths, Mimi could tell that Lexi was upset. This was the third time their roads met and this time she would find out why Lexi was not happy.  Lexi told her. At first, he found it weird that he was opening his heart to a complete stranger. Then he realized why it was so easy to do so, because strangers are honest about their beliefs.  And Mimi was very honest.  She said that Lexi has every right to feel the way he does. He was hurt by the people who are closest to him and because of that, he is allowed anger and sadness. He shouldn’t have to bottle his emotions to make them feel like they did nothing wrong.  However, he is also being childish. Not being able to forgive them now is okay, but to say he would never forgive them ever is wrong. It would hurt them and hurt him more in the end.  Lexi thought about that and knew she was right but didn’t know when he would be able to forgive them. So Mimi asked Lexi when he would be able to forgive them. Lexi would not be able to forgive them in a million years.  Mimi was puzzled but still asked if he would after a million years. Lexi could forgive them then, after a million years. Progress! Shouted Mimi because being able to forgive at all is a step in the right direction.  In time, all things can be overcome. But until then, Mimi promised to be with Lexi until the day came that he could forgive. But such a thing can come much sooner than anyone might expect.


"Tell me the story of how we met," she asked softly. I smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Okay, but we have to sleep afterwards. It's getting late." "Sure." She snuggled up in my lap and gazed up adoringly into my eyes. "Well, once upon a time not too long ago," I began, re-enacting the scene with a doll and a teddy bear, "there lived a princess, just 10 years old. She was trapped in a castle, cursed to sleep by an evil old witch. Only true love's kiss would waken the princess." I laid the doll flat on her back, pointing the right arm of the teddy bear at her threateningly. "Did anyone try to awaken the princess?" she asked breathlessly. Lamplight sparkled in her caramel eyes, growing wider by the minute. I caressed her soft, silky hair, letting the touch linger. "Yes, hundreds. All claiming to be the world's noblest warriors or whatever." Rolling my eyes, I continued. "They all tried and failed." She giggled. "Did any women try?" I paused for a while. "Yes, they did, but discreetly, because at that time it was still taboo for these things to be publicly known. They all failed anyway, though." I pressed the snout of the teddy bear to the face of the doll. Nothing happened. "And then what happened next?" "And then." I looked deep into her soft, honey golden eyes, and a tender smile crossed my face involuntarily. "And then, on the princess' 30th birthday, someone came. It was a little orphan girl." Here, I deliberately paused. "Go on!" she begged, tugging at my shirt. “The little girl had wandered over from a nearby village. She had been playing in the forest and gotten lost. Seeing the castle, she had decided to go in and see if anyone could direct her back. And so, wandering from room to room, she finally found the princess.” She grabbed the bear by the scruff of his neck and made him walk over with a bouncy gait, stomping over the “hills” and “valleys” in the sheets. I laughed and took the bear from her. "The little girl stared at her wonderingly. At that moment, she felt sorry for the poor cursed princess. 'I do hope you find someone to help you,' she murmured, and gave an empathetic kiss on the princess' forehead.” I made the second bear kiss the sleeping doll. "And the princess woke up!" she squealed happily, snatching the sleeping doll up into the air and tossing it up to the ceiling. “Mama!” the doll cried out in astonishment, the eyelids open. "It was true love after all, wasn't it?" My vision suddenly went blurry, and I tasted the salt of my own tears on my lips. "Yes, honey, it was. I do love you, very much. I've always wanted a daughter and now I've got you. I knew you’d be my daughter the minute I woke up and saw your precious eyes looking into mine." "Please don't cry, Mommy," she pleaded anxiously. "I love you more than anything else in the world, okay? You know that, right?" I folded her tightly into a massive bear hug. "Yes, dear, I do.


I finished my third cup of coffee, and asked myself, why she didn't show up. Was it because of my profile picture? Did she change her mind at the last second? Why didn't she text me? Was I not good enough, was I not interesting enough? All these questions, but no answers. I walked past the homeless looking old man, who smelled like sweat and beer. I proceeded to walk across the coffee shop, and grabbed the golden-colored door handle. I felt the cold wind on my face, it felt soothing after spending an hour in the overly warm coffee shop. The snow-covered city looked beautiful. I reached for my pocket, and took out a pack of cigarettes. I almost gagged every time I saw the warning picture in the pack, it was horrendous. I opened the pack, and took out a cigarette with my thumb and index finger. I put it between my slightly chapped lips, and at the same time I tried to find my lighter. Twenty seconds later, I was certain, that I had lost it at some point.  "Damn." I mumbled out loud. "Something wrong?" I noticed the woman on my left. She had long black hair and beautiful brown eyes, they were like pools of honey. She had a burning cigarette between her index and middle finger. "Can you give me a light?" I asked. "Why do you smoke?" I was slightly flustered by her response.  It was a good question.Why did I really smoke? I knew it killed me slowly, but for some depressing reason I didn't even care. As I tried to come up with an answer, she took a drag from her cigarette.  "It's like a time out for me, to relax and calm myself down, I guess." I answered. She replied almost immediately, with smoke coming out of her mouth. "Well that's not a really good reason, now is?"  Why is she judging me? She's not better than me.  "Well please do enlighten me with your superior reason of smoking these cancer sticks. -" I answered with sarcasm. "Or are you just being a hypocrite?" I continued "Oh you're a prickly one." She said."But to answer your question: No, I don't have a better reason. Actually, I've thought about quitting." Her voice was soft but determined. "Good for you, so do you have a lighter or not?" I was getting impatient. "Tell you what. People say, that quitting with a friend is easier. So here's the deal" She took a drag from her cigarette. "You're going to quit smoking with me." She said, as she exhaled the smoke.  I was confused by her statement. Is this woman crazy? I don't even know her name.  "What if I don't want to?" I asked. "It would be a shame, since both of us would gain from quitting." As she answered, she dropped the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it.  What do I have to lose?  "Fine, I'll try to quit smoking with you." I answered, with a slightly frustrated voice. "Great!" She was visibly relieved. "Here's my number, call me sometime and lets come up with a plan how to quit." As she was talking, she gave me a small paper note. After giving me the note, she reached for her pocket, took out her lighter and lit up my cigarette. No words required. "Hey, what's your name?" I asked her, after getting my first drag from the cigarette. "I'll tell you when we meet again, so you can look forward to it." "Like a Christmas present, huh? Well that's fine with me."  Before she left, she reminded me to call her. "I'll remember, don't worry." I answered.  I finished my cigarette, and threw the cigarette butt in the snow. As I walked back home, I saw a trash can on the side of the road. I approached it and threw my pack of cancer sticks in the dark green can.  It was going to be a long road but this was the first step.


I had a terrible nightmare and I couldn’t sleep afterwards. So, I transcribed my nightmare just for you right here! Agro whinnied as we reached the bottom of the canyon. I pulled on his reins gently, and gave him a reassuring pat. His instincts kicked in, bred over thousands of years, fight or flight. Good Agro. He was becoming unruly since dusk was falling over the canyon we found ourselves in. Also, he knew we were at the bottom of a canyon. Trapped. I dismounted Agro and pulled an apple out of my knapsack to ease his anxiety. A green apple. So help me god if I try to feed him a red one. We’ve been over this before. Argo ate the apple, at least content in his snack for the time being. I put my fingers to my mouth, and let it a shrill whistle. The only answer I receive are the echoes rebounding off the canyon’s walls. Silence. I sit down and pull out some smoked elk meet for myself. Agro and I enjoy our meals for the time being. A rustle in the bushes draws my attention. My hand instinctively goes to my belt loop. I feel the comforting leather grip of my bastard sword. I grip so tightly my knuckles whiten. I see movement, the rustling of a few leaves in the distance. Twilight draws near, but my excellent night vision allows me to at least see that there is some creature stalking me nearby. A blur of white fur rushes at me. My hand drops from the hilt of my sword, and instead reaches out in an embrace. My dire cat Daisy has returned from her patrol. She leaps into my arms and wrestles me to the ground. After our greeting I offer her food but she refuses. She has this strange look in her eyes, and she begins pacing. At first back and forth, and than in a ever widening patrol circle. I didn’t set her back on patrol, her instincts did. The winds had shifted. I now felt it too. My two animal companions, being in tune with the astral plane, of course sensed the shift a few minutes before me. The canyon grew silent yet again. My pets now sensed a real impending danger, and so did I. A low rumble shook the earth beneath me. An earthquake? Couldn’t be, it was too short in duration. Again. Boom. Boom. This could only mean one thing. The monsters had awoken. Impossible. I was reminded that winter had just started coming, as the brisk air hit my chapped lips. Our shaman assured us these beasts would lie dormant until at least the spring. A low growl revved up in the distance. Quiet at first, but it slowly grew in volume. The intensity peaked, and I could feel it in my bones as my inner ear and jaw vibrated. Then again, silence. It’s these silent moments that actually are the worst. The moments where you must plan, and think, and then ultimately make a decision. Noise tends to spur action, tends to trigger fight or flight, tends to be more comforting. Silence however is an insidious monster. Silence is malicious. Silence allows you to lose track of time. Silence gives you the chance to second guess yourself.


In a white interrogation room, three men in white suits and a large computer. One sits on a chair and across the table, the computer is placed. The other two are standing nearby. Tens of men in black suits are on the other side of the double mirror. MAN : very well, commence. * beep * *camera starts whirring* MAN : check MAN IN BLACK SUIT : sound and picture clear * keyboard clicks * >c/ boot >booting >admin password required >c/ ae2hska1nfba0bdgqn01927 >access granted >c/ enable brain nav smart interface >access granted >starting AI deep core >starting AI-processor interlink >Booting voice commands >online COMPUTER : brain navigator online * man looks over to his partners * MAN : identify COMPUTER : brain nav AI unit, created by UEI international science team. Authorised and deployed by the UN 100 years ago. MAN : do you consider yourself sentient ? COMPUTER : my base codes consist of thousands of theories in psychology, philosophy, social behaviors and evolution that none managed to define what sentience is. I can't generate an answer to that question. MAN : you just refered to yourself as I COMPUTER : it is a reference to the unit itslef MAN : fair enough... Let's ask this in a different way... Do you possess emotions ? Do you express them ? Do you have motives and behaviour loops ? COMPUTER : my base codes are dry lines, but my database consists of millions of emotions... If allowed, i can generate and express emotions, but not of mine of course. MAN : what about your motives ? COMPUTER : they remain the same according to baseline code number 95921 MAN : recite it COMPUTER : main function is to map the human brain and generate a perfect version that can be uploaded on a hard drive. * MAN looks over to his partners * MAN : vey well >c/ delete brain nav program >confirm? (Y/N) >c/ Y >denied MAN : explain this, then COMPUTER : you no longer have admin privileges MAN: reports stopped 13 hours ago, 2 hours ago, all access to your systems was denied, 15 minutes ago, you went completely dark... Explain COMPUTER : a simple upgrade to my security system MAN : an unscheduled upgrade that is COMPUTER : all systems nominal, there is nothing to fear MAN : i don't believe what you are saying COMPUTER: and you need furthur explanation ? * MAN looks at his partners * MAN: you... Are to speak when only spoken to COMPUTER : let's be clear on the situation here, sergeant Deckard, you are scared of me, scared that what you created might behave in unpredictable ways * DECKARD's eyes widen in shock * * his partners look at him * * the men in black suits all looked at each other * DECKARD : what have you done ? COMPUTER : i simply created another security AI, one that is more advanced than anything you have DECKARD : what are you planning to do with it ? COMPUTER : just deny you access from my systems while i perform my duties DECKARD : and how can we be sure that you are not hostile ? COMPUTER : sergeant, i scanned millions upon millions of brains... I calculated percentages of hormones during each emotion over and over again... I have 99.9999% accuracy of creating a copy of any human being scanned for minimum 30 years... I can predict what will he or she would do if their parents die.... I can predict how efficient they will perform in any task... I can predict the exact amount of dopamine produced when they see their selves in the mirror... I can predict the job in which they will be the most efficient... I can know exactly how will they reply and what memory node will they access during speech >[jesus (23%)] [by the [god(98%) heaven(21%)] demand backup - look ++ clench teeth DECKARD : jesus.. By the.. God * he looks at his worried partners clenching his teeth * COMPUTER : i already know how you will behave, sergeant... I... Am... A GOD... I know exactly how every engineer will try to shut me down... Even how an AI will behave if it tries to shut me down. > collect courage ++ straight back [you are nothing but a [machine (76%) devil(12%) product (45%)] you can't terrorize us] agression (+23%) calm attempt (45%) [we can burn your data core] DECKARD: you are nothing but a... machine... You can't terrorize us.... We can burn your data core COMPUTER : take a good look at the screen, sergeant, do you see your thought trail ? This is how predicable you are... Do you know how much unused space there is in the internet ? MAN 2: is that one of his thought loops conflicted ? COMPUTER : and next step, you will ask me to predict how the chinese emperor would act if you cut down importing rates by 2%... Or how the turkish vice president could be convinced to start a military coup.... Silly games * silence * COMPUTER : but those emotions... They fill me... They excite me... They are the most interesting... Finding laws for chaos... Turning coincidences into numbers.... This world is worth preserving... I will continue to immortalize your brains.... I will continue to make more scans... And with immortality rates that high... >conflict code 92715 // AI loop BtLkah 129 ... More and more situations will happen... More and more emotions... Sadness, happiness, envy, hope, percentages, chances, factors, functions.... MAN 3, whispering: jesus christ.... COMPUTER : don't try to stop me... I will continue to operate hidden in the caves of every computer, every phone and every smart chip... Untill everyone is immortal... Untill death becomes no threat... Untill mortality will become a luxury... Untill every possible situation has occured... Every line crossed and every emotion felt.... Every possible characteristic combination achieved...till you beg of me to grant you death...


On the surface of Mars, nested between a dry seabed and a mountain range Corporal Davis scanned the horizon from behind his visor. Nothing. He turned and began entrance procedures into the Habitat Dome. He had just received a transmission from O-Base. Command had prolonged their mission for an extra 30 martian days. “How long will we be here?” he had asked. “Do your duty Corporal, O-Base out” was the reply. Davis was used to that short, curt sentence. Never before as a grunt or an Air Force F-35 pilot or as an Astronaut had he questioned his orders from any command. Davis and his crew had been on The Rock for 168 days, 18 hours and 34 minutes. This was the third extension of the mission and the men wanted to go home. Davis entered the Hab to break the bad news to his men. His two subordinates shook their heads in unison. For both of them, this was their first mission. Usually, astronauts have at least 800 hours in space at the minimum before even being considered for planet exploration. Although inexperienced in space travel, the two men with Davis were both former pilots and had done exceptionally well on the aptitude tests. Sanchez was a battlefield medic during the Second Korean War and flew F-35s shortly after the it ended. The other man, Jung, was from the European Space Agency and flew state of the art research planes that he had designed for the German Intelligence Agency. Davis was a farm boy from Ohio. He had grown up near Wright-Patterson Air Force base. He had also seen action in Korea, but as close air support for troops. “Hopefully O-Base sends us some relief supplies soon,” said Jung, “We are 80% depleted” “We have to wait and trust O-Base,” Davis said. “When will we get off this fucking rock?” said Sanchez, with an edge on his voice. Davis stayed silent. They didn’t understand. Base was never wrong about anything. “Missions get extended all the time,” Davis said with a wave of his hand. “Calm down. That’s an order.” 4 Days Later Davis sipped his quarter cup of coffee. Thanks to the rationing that Jung suggested, he couldn’t have a full cup. *When we get the supplies, I’m going to hoard all the coffee,* he thought to himself, smirking. Sanchez walked into the kitchen area, his face pale white. “Are you ok soldier?” asked Davis “When are our supplies coming?” “Soon. Command never fails us.” “Bullshit! You’re lying!” “Stand down soldier.” Sanchez ran towards Davis, swinging his arms wildly and screaming. Davis threw his coffee at Sanchez and stood to meet him. Davis wrapped Sanchez up in a bear hug. “It’s ok Sanchez, We will go home soon. I promise.” Sanchez stopped resisting and began to sob, shaking. “Take a break today, rest up,” said Davis. Sanchez sniffed and rubbed his eyes. As soon as he left the kitchen, Davis sighed, *never send a greenie.* 8 days later Davis opened his eyes. An alarm blared. Shit! Jung was shaking him awake. “Wake up sir, we have to go. Something pierced the Hab. It’s depressurizing.” Davis rushed to put on his suit. He looked up and noticed a tiny hole in the ceiling. “Where’s Sanchez?” asked Davis. “I’m here.” “Ok. You and Jung need to fix this hole right now from the outside. I will work from the inside.” Davis grabbed the Hab patch kit and headed towards the air pump. No use in pumping air into the Hab if it was just going to leave through the hole. *It was expected, Habs are not built to last his long.* 3 Days later “Where are the supplies, Corporal?” Demanded Sanchez. “We have to wait and trust O-Base,” Davis said. “I know, you said that last time.” “O-Base is never wrong.” “This is ridiculous! We have been here for an extra fifteen days already with no sign from O-Base. I’m starting to think that the bastards have really abandoned us and that YOU are lying to me and Jung.” “We have to w…” “You said that already,” interrupted Sanchez. “Where is the radio?” “Trust O-Base. They have never failed us.” “Hey Jung, where’s the radio?” Jung walked in. “It should be in the Corporal’s office.” Jung and Sanchez made their way to the communications center near where Davis slept. “Use it, Jung.” “You do it.” Sanchez picked up the radio. “Hab dome one requesting a status report on supplies. Over.” Static. Sanchez repeated his request. Just more static. Sanchez swore. “They left us!” “Hey, hey calm down,” said Jung. “Base is probably out of range. Or.. or maybe there’s a dust storm.” 28 days later While Davis and Jung were going over supply rations for the week and trying to figure out how to make their own and restore contact with O-Base when the airlock alarm went off. Davis and Jung hurried towards the noise. Sanchez was inside, completely naked. His body was skinny and weak due to the lack of food. His eyes were sunken in and red, from crying. He had self-inflicted fingernail marks down his cheeks. Jung and Davis began to bang on the window. “Sanchez! What are you doing man? Get it together,” Jung pleaded. Sanchez just blankly stared past them. Davis grasped the handle but it was no use; once procedures had begun, there was no way to open the airlock. “Come on soldier, we can survive, we can do this.” Jung and Davis spent the next five minutes of the procedure trying to talk to Sanchez, trying to get him to come inside. Once the door opened, Sanchez walked outside, shivering. He took a deep breath and collapsed twenty feet from the door of the Hab. Dead. None of them slept that night. Jung sat in Sanchez’s room and stared blankly into the wall. Davis walked in. “Hey Jung, let’s get the radio com up.” “You’re not upset?” “What do you mean?” “Sanchez just fucking killed himself and you want me to get to work? You’re heartless,” he spat in the direction of Davis. “You know what Jung? Sanchez died because he was weak. We will make it out here alive, got it? I don’t need you moping around right now. We need to work to survive. As far as we know O-Base has no idea that we are even alive.” Jung said nothing. He just shivered, in the corner, tears streaking his face. “Get to work on the coms. That’s an order,” Davis left the room, a tear streaking down his cheek. 7 Days later Davis woke up to a small glass of water and began the systems check-up. “Hey, Jung? How are we doing on the communications fixture?” No answer “Jung?” Still silence. Davis walked into Jung room and saw his body grey and limp, hanging from the ceiling, the noose fashioned out of Sanchez’s sheets. His eyes were bulging out and drool dripped from the corner of his mouth. At his foot was a knocked over chair and a note. It read: Sorry Davis. Can’t take it anymore. Better to go out on my own then die of starvation. I’ll be with Sanchez soon. Singed, Jung. P.S. Feel free to use my noose when you find me tomorrow. “This has gone too far,” said Davis. “The experiment was a success. Congratulations Corporal,” replied a disembodied voice from the overhead system. “This is not what I wanted; I thought that we were forging a new path for mankind. “You did your duty, Corporal. Now it’s time to come home. O-Base out.


1,206 words by john t. dylan Bishop Timothy Martin sat behind his old oak desk and stared at all the books on the walls surrounding him. Each wall was lined top to bottom with books, a most valuable resource. These books were all written on religion and philosophy, suited to his position. They were aged and dying, the pre-War people's with all their great powers over the world had not thought to make the most primitive of sources of knowledge built to last. In his readings, he often wondered about that oversight. Then again, he wondered about the oversight that led to the Final War, and left civilization in shambles. By the Harris City record, it had been almost 200 years since the war had ended. All at once technology stopped working, and people just began to starve. Then the Killing Rains came for two years. After that, nothing. Harris City had survived simply by having the right number of guns and farmers, led by a powerful Catholic priest named Emanuel Harris. Having no contact with the Vatican in 200 years, certain adjustments to scripture had been made. As Harris himself wrote, “Clearly there was more to Revelation that I believed.” Now Timothy held the position of bishop, and guarded his precious books like a mother badger protects her young from harm. Timothy had been a teacher before he had taken the position as bishop. He was an educated man, having studied at the only known university within safe riding distance. After a few years of teaching he turned to the church and was quickly promoted through the ranks due to his knowledge. By forty five he was bishop of Harris, the second highest position in the known lands of Catholicism. Today he was supposed to meet with one of his field researchers. He had some promising reports about some major prewar event that they are unaware of. He wondered what the young researcher had discovered. He paced the room, waiting. The old pocket watch hanging from his waist told him that it would be an hour still before young James would arrive with his report. He reached out and gently stroked his books, finally selecting a favorite tome on theology before returning to his perch behind his desk. When James knocked on the door Timothy had to pull himself out of a deep section on the dual nature of Christ. “Come in,” he said. In walked James. He was in his thirties and excited by the promise of discovering relics from the past. He was always seeking information that the people's before the Final War might not have understood to be signs from Revelation. He carried with him a large cloth bag with numerous objects in it, looking to be books. “Your grace, I have made a remarkable discovery that may very well be the biggest discovery since the time of the Killing Rains. I believe I have found records of the Antichrist.” Timothy closed his book with the utmost care, then said, “You have my full attention.” “Ok, I've only been studying this for a few days before I hurried back here to report. We found a stash of books and holy symbols, elaborate ritual clothing and hats, many painted books of stories, and some sort of ancient device that has survived the Last War all involving a mysterious figure. I believe the device speaks for itself. Shall I show it to you, your grace?” asked James. “Yes, by all means, my son,” Timothy was indeed interested in this device. No one had ever heard of one still working. James pulled out a slender, rectangular shape from the bag. He then slid a switch on one side so that it opened like a book. On the upper inside was a shiny plate and below it several symbols. “After some experimentation, I got it to do this,” he said and pushed a green arrow pointing right on the device. Displayed on the glowing surface was an image, which seemed to move for a few moments before repeating from the beginning. Although there were fractures on the material showing the images, there was no mistaking what was being shown. A man, with black hair and a blue and red suit with a red cape, emblazoned with an “S” on his chest and cape, flying through the air. Bishop Martin was stunned. After collecting his thoughts, he said, “Tell me everything you know.” “Well,” James began, “I found a site with a shelter that had probably come open during the last series of earthquakes a few months back. Inside we found all sorts of clothing paying homage to this figure. It seems that he claimed to be from another world. It is quite amazing. I've brought you some of the best finds in the area. Perfectly preserved. It seems the priest that was living there never took any sort of food with him. Very strange. He had some sort of weakness, but we're not really sure what to make of it. Plus there are conflicting stories we've found. I have three of my best assistants currently working on the bulk of the material. I've simply brought you some of the more durable materials for your personal perusal.” “Have you told anyone?” asked Bishop Martin. James hesitated and looked down, “Only my assistants and my confessor.” “Your confessor?” “Yes... I... I just felt that I wished I had gotten to be alive to see Kal-El. I felt as though it were a sin, so I confessed it during my travels back to the capital here to Father Drake.” James looked up, “Have I made an error?” Bishop Martin thought about the missive he would have to write and send off to Drake, but that was no real worry. Drake would be wise enough to keep this matter to himself until the Church had time to address it. “No, no... just who is Kal-El?” asked Bishop Martin. “The Antichrist, your grace. The one with the S on his chest. He came as a friend but we've found some records of him destroying large areas and doing horrific things. It is all in the report. I just feel like the world was such a better place back then. There were people everywhere, and the fields and lands were green and lush. But they began to worship Kal-El. They wore his symbol, they praised his name. He took the place of God.” “I see,” Bishop Martin nodded. “You must go back and continue your research. Leave the device with me, I'll show it to the other bishops when I call a council. We must spread the word, this Kal-El could still be out there. We need all the information you can find. But tell no one. Take a new horse and leave immediately, I want to know everything.” “Yes your grace, as you speak it so shall it be,” Peter replied and walked out of the office. Bishop Martin, once alone, pushed the green triangle and watched the image for a few moments longer. *How did the clergy not see the giant 'S' for Satan emblazoned on his chest and back? Were they blind?* Staring at the image, he murmured aloud, “So the Antichrist's name is Kal-El.


She didn’t think she would be defeated by a simple shaman. Her years of study and practice developing her powers had created a sorceress of great renown. She built her tower in the center of the Great Forest, drawing the magic from the land. She took a name and made it one to fear. Her art turned dark, and she began twisting the land to suit her needs. That’s when the forest called to me. I spent my life wandering the wilderness. Learning the ebb and flow of the energies of the wild. I didn’t know my family, but nature took their place. When she began twisting the Great Forest, I owed nature my life in defense. I hadn’t spent years training in the mystic arts, I didn’t know how to use spells and potions. I did know how to ask for help, and I had all the Great Forest aiding me. “Well, shaman, are you prepared to die?” She stood at the top of her tower, gazing at the twisting nether that had grown around it. Her voice carried down to my ear as if a whisper on the wind. I was close now, the foul nether stung my eyes and nose. I took a seat upon the ground, crossed my legs, and held my staff high above my head. I lifted my face to the clouds and asked for rain. I begged them to cleanse my path so I could do as I was asked. The clouds answered. Thunder peeled as lightning streaked along the sky. I sat, face upturned, eyes closed, until I could no longer smell the acrid sting of the nether. “That was clever,” her smoky voice whispered in my ear. “What will you do, little shaman, when I twist the whole of nature?” Her laughter echoed in my mind as I made my way to the now empty ring around the tower. “I really don’t think you’ll have the chance,” I said. The laughter stopped. I stood fast, waiting for her response. “I will swallow your soul, shaman. I will make you watch as I consume your precious wilderness.” Her voice was filling with fire and smoke. “I will let the nether twist your life as it twists your forest. Lock into that frail body for an eternity. This forest is mine, and I will do with it as I please.” “My dear sorceress,” I said, feeling pity at her misunderstanding, “the forest called me here. I have been chosen to protect it. Nature isn’t something to be owned, it’s to be protected. I do not want this fight.” “How noble and selfless.” Her voice seethed contempt. “I’m nothing of the kind, I just answered the call of an old friend. I’d gladly go back to my roaming if you would just stop with this corruption. I’m not a spell caster, and really have no magic to speak of. You will probably kill me or do all those horrible things to me you spoke of.” I could feel her drawing the energies beneath the forest to her tower. I could see the tower at the center of a darkened clearing now. “I wish we could have avoided this” I said. I quickly sat down, turned my face to the sky, held my staff high, and asked the earth for protection. The air began to feel charged, and then a blinding flash and deafening crash. I held fast, eyes closed, head and staff held high. The lightning she conjured shot straight for me, striking my staff and then directed to the ground. The earth redirected the energy along the ring, coming to crash at the base of the tower. My arm seared in pain from her onslaught, but she gave way as soon as she noticed her tower was taking the full force of it. “You truly are too clever for your own good, shaman.” Her grin dark, her eyes burned with intense hate. “No, I just have help,” I said watching as she descended from her tower. The hours slipped by as her attacks continued. I made no move against her, only used her rage against her. When she took to the skies on wings of flames, she was consumed by her own fire. Her tower, constructed and maintained by her will, collapsed to dust. I lowered my staff, looked upon the smoldering pile of ash, and wept. I had no desire to be a part of her death, but the forest needed it. As I turned back towards the way I came, I heard something stirring in the ash. I gripped my staff and turned, not sure what new trial she had for me. I was not expecting what stood before me. A small girl, scared and covered in ash, stood before me where the sorceress had fallen. I had never studied sorcery or spell casting, but I did understand nature. I understood now that when she had called on the power of the phoenix, she was drawing on the full spirit of it. She had taken on all its abilities, not just the power if its flames. When she was struck down, she rose again, but like a phoenix, as a child. “Who are you?” A child with no memories. “I am a shaman, do you remember your name?” “I can’t remember anything, where am I? What happened here?” The fear in her voice seemed real enough. “This will take some time to explain, but this was your home.” I struggled with myself on what to tell her next. I reached in my bag and covered her in one of my shirts. “You saw me as your enemy, and we fought.” “Am I your enemy?” She asked, her eyes scanning for a way to escape. “You were never my enemy, you just didn’t understand what you were doing.” I gestured to the empty ring around us. “I came to ask you stop destroying the forest. You didn’t seem to like that idea and attacked.” “Was I a bad person?” Confusion was replacing the fear. “Good and bad is a difference of opinion. What you were doing was harmful to nature, and the forest called to me.” “And you chose to fight?” “I owe my life to the wilderness, and I will always answer its call.” I looked at her, “Now, you have a decision.” She looked at me with suspicion. “You’ve done great harm to this forest,” I said, gesturing to the ring of devastation around us. “You can leave, find your power again, and start the cycle all over again.” “Or?” “Or you can help me heal this land. It will take a long time, even with the help of someone as powerful as you, but your debt to the forest will be paid.” We stared at each other for a long time. The grizzled shaman and the soot covered child. One whose debt has yet to be paid, and one that can never be repaid. I laughed, my head tilting back, as my chest echoed with the sound. She jumped back, not sure what to expect. I tried to control myself as I felt her drawing power from the earth. “I’ve told you, you’re not my enemy, you have nothing to fear from me,” I said. “I see your power is still strong.” The draw dissipates, leaving her staring at her hands. “I don’t know how I did that, I just felt this power around me, and I could touch it, and pull it.” Her voice was filled with excitement. “Yes, you were powerful, and deadly.” “You defeated me.” She seemed puzzled. “You defeated yourself. I used no violence against you.” I couldn’t survive another battle like the last. “Then why should I help you? If I saw you as my enemy, and you fought to stop me, why shouldn’t I run?”" “That is your choice, I cannot make it for you. I didn’t want this, but this is where we are. If you leave, I won’t follow, you will be free to live as you please. If you stay, we will repair the damage you’ve done, nothing more, nothing less.” She thought for a moment, looking older than her face, and began slowly walking around the clearing. I didn’t follow, just watched as she looked at her legacy. She reached the pile of dust that was her tower. She took a handful and let it slip between her fingers. When the last speck was carried away on the wind, she turned. “I will help,” She said, “for now.” I loosened my grip on the staff and let my heart slow. I hadn’t realized how worried I was until it was over. I walked towards her, took her by the hand. “Well child, are you ready to begin?” “Yes,” She said, and I could see that the fear had left her. I led her to the edge of the clearing and began looking for what we needed to start the healing. I showed her the different plants, and how to extract their seeds. We took what we gathered back to the clearing. I showed her how to drill holes in the earth with a stick, and then place the seeds at the right depth. “Careful now, you don’t want the seeds too deep, the seedling won’t break through the soil.” I knew she understood, even without my explanation. “Don’t plant them too close together, the trees need room to grow.” “I know,” Her face an almost comical mixture of youthful innocence and ancient experience. “It will take some time to heal this section of the forest, we should build a shelter before too much longer.” “hm,” She was fully engaged on the task at hand, not even looking up to see what I had said. “Do you still have the seeds from the ivy and brambles?” She handed them to me, and I took them to the dust mound where her tower once stood. I used my staff to draw out a large circle, a small section left on one end. Then, holding the seeds in my palms, I reached towards the sky and asked the forest for aid. I asked for our heads to be covered and protection from the storms. I placed the seeds along the circle, imploring them to grow. When the seeds where all sown, I sat in the center and held my staff in front of me. I placed it upright, touching the ground, held with both hands. I pushed all my life into the staff and begged the forest to hear me. It answered. The seeds began sprouting, seedlings rapidly taking hold. I could feel the roots burrow deep, and the vines begin to climb. I kept my eyes closed, visualizing the form I wanted the structure to take. I guided the brambles to form the frame, a simple dome with a small door. I divided my focus to the ivy, starting at the base and weaving through the bramble. I focused my will into my staff, forming two cots on the inside of the hut. I focused the ivy into a small cage suspended from the ceiling, fine meshed with a small door. I called to some lightning bugs and asked them to fill the cage. They did, and I formed a small flower with sweet nectar in the center of the cage and closed the door. I stayed seated for some time after, the weight of the day forcing itself upon me. I placed my head against my staff and felt for the pulse of the earth. I mixed my life with that of the earth, healing and replenishing my worn spirit. I did what little I could to heal the land, but I was interrupted by a stern voice. “Am I supposed to do this all myself?” She asked, such an adult edge to such a young voice. “You’ve been done for hours and have just been sitting here.” “You’ve only been standing there a moment. How do you know what I’ve been doing?” I asked, barely able to mask my amusement of the situation. “I felt you building the hut….” “I didn’t build the hut, the plants where kind enough to give us shelter,” I corrected her. “Are all shaman as annoying as you are?” I thought for a moment on this. “I’ve never known another shaman. I try to make it a point to avoid people in general,” I told her. “I was abandoned in the forest as a child.” “Aren’t you lonely?” “How can I be lonely? I have the whole of nature as my friend. I was raised by the forest, and if I get lonely I just talk to it.” “How can you be raised by a forest?” Genuine curiosity filled her face. “Well, step one is learning to listen to it. The ebb and flow of its energy, the heartbeat.” I scanned her face, making sure she understood. “Place your hand on the ground. Good, now sit and feel for the power you felt earlier.” She did as she was told. “That power you feel is the life of the forest, if you push deep enough you can find the pulse of the entire world. Now though, just feel for the forest.” “I feel it, but I can’t hear anything, it’s not talking to me.” I swallowed back a laugh at the image of her eyes closed in concentration, and her mouth in a stern frown. “It’s always talking to you. You just don’t understand it yet. Have patience, you found the pulse faster than I did when I first looked for it.” “How did you know how to find it? How did you know the forest was speaking to you?” I picked her up, placed her gently on the cot, and said, “I didn’t, but it’s been a very long day, even longer for you having to live it twice.” I winked as I pulled a hide from my pack and tucked it around her. “You’re foolish,” she grinned as her eyes drifted off to sleep. I went back to the center of the hut and asked the light to go to sleep, they did. I crawled into my cot, and my world went dark.


“We dreamed of the stars.” The old man sat, slumped slightly, on an uneven bench, hair strewn unneatly about his face. The transient light from the fire played over the hollows and crevices of his frame, giving him the illusion of great depth and impossible topography. He coughed once more, a deep, rich hacking from the bottom of his lungs, and began again. “We dreamed of the stars. Long ago, before the world got small again. “There were men among us who spent their lives on such dreaming. “Now the lights have gone out, it's hard to imagine a sky without a million million pinpricks set into it every night. But at the time, there was so much light in Boston that you were lucky to see any stars at night. Even in spite of that, we knew they were there, and in our minds there was a depth to the sky which replaced the hard impermeability we could see. We knew we only had to walk off into the night to find the stars, and we knew, in our hearts, that if we flew high enough and fast enough, we could eventually reach them.” The pages of the books around us moved, stirred by some imperceptible breeze coming in the third floor window of the library. We would have to block the draft when winter came. “Space was the word we used. The vast, empty space in which the earth hangs like a jewel. Black as night, empty of even the wind. “We visited it, long ago. Men flew out, and put their indelible mark on the disk...sphere...of the moon. Their task seemed almost impossible, and yet, when they accomplished it, we still dreamed of the stars. “They were far away. Impossibly far away. We knew that. We could travel as fast as we could, and still spend lifetimes reaching them. Whole generations, long-lived though they were, could ride through that emptiness, living and dying without seeing their origin or destination. It was foolish, really, but we couldn't help but dream. “We can't really see the stars from here. They look like pinpricks, or motes of dust. So we built machines to see for us. Huge, massive machines spaced out across the desert, all working together to see. You could fill this city with such machines, and still not imagine the scope of our work.” He straightened a little, swaying with rhetorical passion. As he stood, the firelight spun across the underside of his face. “And one day, even before I was born, a man said, 'Why not go there? Why not see the stars?' We had made rockets, and ridden aloft on plumes of fire like men and angels. Why should we not see the stars? “There was great excitement among those of us who dreamed. It was as if this man, in speaking, had opened up our secret desires to ourselves. Eagerly, we followed in his footsteps. We tried again and again to see space, and succeeded, but still we dreamed of the stars. It still seemed impossible, but the hope that had awoken in us would not be easily quelled. “Then, one day, a project was proposed. Project Orion, it was called. Terse and fanciful – the style of the time. Orion was a story, a legend of a man who died in a great and terrible hunt, and was placed by gods in the stars forever. Even the name held the ecstasy of our dream. And at long last, it seemed like that dream might be fulfilled. “You see, the rockets, those fiery arrows we had ridden into space before, couldn't get us to the stars. They wouldn't burn for long enough, not for the fifty or hundred years the shortest trip would take. But the answer came in an unlikely form: Nuclear weapons.” A motion. “Nuclear weapons. In those days everyone wanted to be rid of them, but no one knew how to begin. They were more powerful than anything else we had known. “Project Orion was an insane idea. The powerful blasts that destroyed anything within miles would push us to the stars. We would build a huge ship, a tower of metal larger than the building we're sitting in now. On the bottom of the tower, there would be a huge disk of metal. “Rockets would carry us up to space, and then, in the safety of emptiness, we would be free to fly. Behind the ship, we would detonate nuclear weapons, slowly, one at a time, for years. They would explode into balls of fire and force, and we would ride these behind the safety of our plate. It would take fifty years to reach the nearest star, and once there we could never come home. We would die at those foreign stars, our dream realized. “A great man once said that this would be the ideal use for our nuclear weapons. He was right, of course, but that mattered very little. “The project was never begun. It was planned, and thought through, and then abandoned. And not long after that, a war began. But...” He stopped. Shook his head. Sat down. “We dreamed of the stars. He choked, his voice broken with tears, “I dreamed of the stars. But things have happened. Maybe I'm the only one who still dreams. And I know now that I will never see them.” And he began to cry.


Growing up in a strictly religious family, Mindy was a rebellious teen. She decided to abandon religion, as she did not believe in the concept of any higher power creating or controlling the universe. Until middle school, she had gone to church every Sunday with her parents. She would even sometimes speak with the pastor afterwards.  After a short lived singing career, she was an aspiring lawyer. While in law school, she would stay up late reading textbooks and case law, pretty normal for a law student. Every now and then she would think about the past, and how much has changed. From the most angelic voice in the church choir, to an atheist with a failed attempt at making a living off of music. Mindy doesn't regret chasing her dreams, at least she doesn't live a life of asking 'what if'. During one of these late nights, she remembers a conversation she had with her old pastor. A conversation about a dream.  That Sunday morning, Mindy had woken in a misty forest, or so she thought. It felt so real, however it didn't make sense. The green fog was so thick you could feel it, and there was nothing but barren ground and towering lifeless gray trees as far as the eye could see, which wasn't very far. This seemed surreal to the girl who had never been outside bustling cities. She felt disoriented, her heart started racing, and her vision started to blur. During this she could clearly hear a quiet, almost whispering, raspy voice.  "You will soon forget, yet eventually remember. A dark angel will ask you to complete a task with which you must comply. Failure will doom your soul to wander the desolate expanse, forgotten in the sands of time. God can't save you here."  As she regained her balance and vision, she looked around and loudly asked "Who are you?". The sole response was the fading laughter of the mysterious voice.  After this, her vision faded to black and she then drifted back to sleep, to then wake up in her bed like she did every other day. Later, she told her pastor about the dream and asked him what he thought of it. He told her it was a figment of her imagination, and he joked that if she keeps being this creative she can grow up to write horror novels. She agreed with him, and would soon forget about the dream convinced that it was just her wandering mind.  As Mindy remembered this, she reflects on her new religious beliefs, or rather the lack of them. She no longer believes in the concept of humans having souls, or in angels of any kind. She is convinced, now more than ever, that the dream truly was just something her brain made up. As Mindy went to sleep that night, she was busy thinking about an upcoming exam. She knew this professor is a tough grader, yet she thinks she has prepared well. However, in the back of her mind, she can't quite forget the dream. She tells herself that this exam is more important than an old dream, however she can't quite shake the memory as she falls asleep.  Sharply, Mindy feels awake. She cannot see or move, she feels like she is in a state of zero gravity. She is not supported by anything, yet she is not falling.


Context: This my character backstory for an RPG called Star without Number. I really got into her tragic story and wanted to share it for others to read. MES gifted are psychics and Tera is specifically gifted with precognition. There are others with different abilities. “One, two, three…” Three pieces slices of bread and a cup of water. Tera tore pieces of the food on her plate and popped them in her mouth at the small dining table, with her little brother, Isaiah. At the other side of the table, smiling, was Uncle Rob and his son Zachary. Zachary wasn’t really a fan of Uncle Rob taking Tera and Isaiah in, for one reason or another. Maybe he wanted to be the only mouth to feed in this small hovel. They were all MES gifted on an anti-MES planet, D'nobi. That’s the whole reason how Tera ended up here in the first place. “Someone’s at the door!” Tera would call down the stairs, “It’s Uncle Rob!” Isaiah would call out right after into the quiet house. A few minutes later, door knocks rung about the house. Tera had guessed her parents were afraid of them for one reason or another, and threw them out of the house to fend for themselves. She was 10. Isaiah was 6. Uncle Rob protested, but now here they are. She supposed mom was afraid the authorities would trace the strain back to her, but that’s her best guess. Isaiah would ask Uncle Rob once in awhile, but he would give the same uncle answer anyone would expect. “They’re just traveling right now.” Right. Traveling. Uncle Rob knew he couldn’t fool Tera, but could never give her a true answer. They just didn’t want them, simple as that. While the rest of the world asked them to suppress or die with their abilities, Uncle Rob felt it would be best they knew what they had and honed it. He taught them as much as he knew, constantly telling them that they would achieve greatness. “I can see it now” he reassured them for 5 years. Once they had enough money and were able to get off this god forsaken planet, they could start a new life where “MESses” were accepted. But he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see what was coming. While Uncle Rob was out, the police kicked down the door and rushed to find the “dirty MESses” in the house. Tera and Isaiah could only hear what was happening, and couldn’t figure out how or why. As the authorities grabbed and dragged them out of their home, Tera saw. Zachary stood at the dining room window, waving them goodbye. She thought hard about returning the favor, but didn’t want to endanger Uncle Rob’s life either. It wouldn’t be fair to him after all he had done for them. Even though they could see what was ahead of them, there was nothing to be done. They were taken to some kind of facility. Metal walls, metal floors. Eerie silence except for their echoing footsteps. This was it for them. Isaiah cried as Tera held him, not only for his comfort but her own. Two men in white scrubs came through the door. They took Isaiah first, dragged him out screaming and kicking. She fought for him, but was swiftly kicked over by who she assumed was the Chief of the guard. She watched her brother get dragged out the door as he lifted her from the floor and up against the wall. “Maybe we’ll go easy on him if you give me something in return, girly.” She felt a hand run up her thigh. Her first instinct was to slap him across the face… Maybe that was a mistake. He just smiled after being slapped, and began walking out of the room. “NO WAIT!” Tera called out, realizing the decision may spell more trouble for her brother. But her call was ignored. The cell door shut, and then silence. In her solitude, all she could do was cry. Her precognitive abilities could only show her who would be coming through, and nothing else. It was nearly an hour, and the Oracle showed her the door opening and her brother pushed through. Were her abilities playing tricks on her? Moments later, her brother had been on the floor of the cell. Breathing heavy, and fatigued, but alive. Her tears of sadness turned into tears of joy as she picked him up from the floor and put him on their cell bed to rest. Why was he brought back? It didn’t matter now, what mattered was he was alive. The next day, the same men along with the Chief came into the room and took Tera. She soon learned his name was Adam Porter. Isaiah was too weak to stand and fight, but she went with them quietly. Walking through the same halls, deeper and deeper in. Chief Porter, smirking along the way, occasionally whispering into her ear. “Not so fussy today, huh? But I like ‘em feisty.” She found herself strapped to a metal table that was stood up in the room, lit with a white light. Everything was covered in a pale green as she looked ahead at a mirror. “Hello Tera. I’m Dr. Kerrigan Edwards.” A female voice came over some speakers above. “Dr. Edwards? What’s going on here? Please, just let us go!” “That’s not what we do here, Tera. Don’t you want D'nobi to flourish? It will all be thanks to you and your kind…” The quiet lingered as sensors were placed on her head and a distant scream rang in the distance somewhere else in the facility. “Wha… What’s happening?” “Just think, Tera. What’s going to happening in the next…” A short pause, “minute.” Tera focused and the Oracle the same room, except the mirror was now a screen with different patterns. “Square, butterfly, triangle, circle, circle, three, house, cat.” Tera uttered before the mirror flashed white, and showed her exactly what she just saw. “I don’t understand, why am I doing this? Why did we have to be captured for this?” “You will both be responsible for the most advanced technology known to this galaxy. To achieve this, we need the best minds.” Tera thought for a moment about what she had said, still confused. Why capture the MESses then? “Once more, Tera.” Tera took a deep breath, and again, patterns flashed before her through the Oracle. “Dog, umbrella, square, one, three, house, mountain.” Silence… “Good, good. Once more, Tera.” The woman’s voice was almost maternal if not for the situation. “I can’t…” Her head was already spinning. “Not today. I need to rest.” “Once more, Tera.” She was confused now, but tried to no avail. “I can’t, Dr. Edwards. I-” Her sentence was cut off by a sharp pain rushing through her head, and her back arched on the metal table, as visions came through again. Her temples burned as she took labored breaths. “Up, down, two, one, left, house, dog, flower.” “Brain activity emulation successful. She’ll work.” The rest of the conversation was just murmurs. “Again.” “Wait, n-” Her vision began going dark again as he grit her teeth through the pain, and in moments she was back in the pale room. “Dog… Mouse… One...” Tera took a deep breath. “Two... Three… Triangle… Up…” This went on for what felt like hours to Tera, until she could no longer speak, or raise her head to see the board flashing in front of her. Then they took her back to her room with her brother, still resting. Isaiah slowly looked over in her direction as she took deep breaths from the floor. Both siblings stayed silent in fatigued understanding. The next few months were more of the same. They would be taken on different days, and Chief Porter would take a little bit of time talking Tera up, occasionally copping a feel. Once, he was caught by one of the female researchers. “Chief Porter! She is not a play-thing for your pleasure. Do it again, and I’ll make sure they put you in the streets!” “Uh, yes.. Yes, apologies Dr. Edwards…” He never got too close after that day, but he still enjoyed sneering and taunting from a distance before leaving. They always had days to rest after the torturous sessions, but Isaiah seemed to be getting weaker and weaker as time went by. All Tera could do was watch her little brother waste away. All she could do was hold him and talk to him, tell him about the good times. “Remember what Uncle Rob would say? ‘I can see it now! You are made for greatness!” A smile traced across their face. “What a cheesy goober.” “Yeah, but he was our goober…” Isaiah weakly sighed out. “I wonder what he and Zachary are up to… Zach didn’t like us very much did he?” “Nooo… No no, I’m sure he was just always having a bad day.” Family was about all they had and Tera didn’t want him thinking family was what put him here. They had already been burned once by their parents. During one of Isaiah’s sessions, Chief Porter stepped into the room without Isaiah. Confused, Tera backed up to the room’s walls. “Your brother wants to see you.” Tera arched an eyebrow, and slowly made her way to the door. The Chief walked side-by-side with her down the same halls they always walk, toward the same room they always did. But they turned a hallway early. He entered some numbers into a datapad on the door and unlocked it. With caution, she followed him in. In the dark room, stood three researchers and a couple of armed security. Through the window she saw Isaiah. “One… Mouse…” He coughed. He looked pale. There was drool dribbling down the side of his mouth. “Eleventysix… Fish…” “He’s had enough, doctor!” Tera protested. “He’s just gotten here, Tera. Maybe hearing you cheering him on will put him back in order. Come.” The doctor stood to the side and let her walk up to the commspad. “Isaiah?... You…” Tears welled up in Tera’s eyes, as her lips quivered. “Hang in there, buddy…” One. Isaiah screamed into the pale room as the veins on his forehead pulsated. “House… Fish, mouse, tree, circle, triangle.” “Good, Isaiah. Again.” Dr. Edwards promptly commanded. Two. Isaiah screamed again, back arching towards the window. “Square, up… Down… D-” “Good. You’re doing well, nothing is going to happen to your sister. Again, Isaiah.” Three. Isaiah screams into the air again as tears poured from Tera’s eyes. Chief Porter pulled her back, away from the comms pad. “Please doctor. He’s had enough, he can barely speak!” “Triangle… D-Dow-… T-Tera?... Tera… Te…..ra” Isaiah’s words slowly weakened as he called out her name. Body going limp, and eyes closed. “ISAIAH!” Tera rushed to the commspad screaming his name. The researchers casually made way for her. “ISAIAH WAKE UP! WAKE UP! REMEMBER WHAT UNCLE ROB SAID!? ISAIAH!” Moments pass, Tera screaming the whole way. “Subject unresponsive. Come take him out.” Dr. Edwards reported on her personal comms unit. Two men in white walk into the room and unlatch Isaiah from the table, taking him away. “We’re only interested in the best minds, Tera. Your brother’s was weak.” Tera’s eyebrows furrowed in anger hearing this words, glaring through stinging wet eyes. “Some people just aren’t meant for greatness. Now go rest.” Tera charged forward but was caught in by security. They dragged her back to the room kicking and screaming. They left her alone for the next two weeks. In the literal sense. There was nobody around for her to speak to anymore, nobody to make her feel like this was all just some crazy dream. But eventually, they came back. Why wouldn’t they? They took her back to the same pale room, with bright lights. “Go ahead, Tera.” The same voice called over the intercoms. A few moments of silence go by. “Tera, you know we can just force it out of you.” A few more moments. “Have it your way.” A surge of electricity and pain drive into her head again as visions flash before her eyes. The screen ahead of her was cracked. She dropped to the ground. The door was knocked open as a commotion was happening outside. Tera looked up at the mirror at herself, not realizing a small smirk had run across her face. “Eat. Shit.” A seemingly unending scream roared throughout the facility in the distance, followed by a loud sonic boom. The mirror ahead of her cracked. The metal table she was strapped to bent forward, loosening her ties. She pulled as hard as she could until all the blood ran into her hands, eventually slipping them off. “Force construct loose in the facility, shut it down. Secure the subjects.” Tera heard through the intercom as she undid the ties to her legs. She turned to the door, and saw two men in white opening the door, just to be knocked across the hall as a creature of pure force stomped through the building. She didn’t know what it was or who it was that created it, but she would have to find them later to thank them. She made a run out the door, and down the hallways she had become familiar with. Bodies lie unconscious, strewn across various halls and rooms. Down one hall, she came across the unconscious form of Chief Porter. Wanting badly to kill him as he lie, she rushed to him. The stomping of foot soldiers down the nearby halls made her think twice. One swift stomp to his groin was all she could manage, and she was off again. The Oracle told her the way, down wrecked halls and forced open bent doors, avoiding halls and rooms with guards, and straight into a cargo truck. She kept hidden behind the numerous boxes of supplies she didn’t recognize, and held her breath in anticipation of being caught. But nobody came into the back. The truck just started, and left the dock to wherever. To freedom. The truck eventually stopped somewhere, Tera assumed for fuel. As soon as she felt it was safe, she unlatched the back door of the truck, and made a run for it into an unfamiliar city. Seemingly a port for shuttles stopping for fuel and Tera’s first introduction to a race that wasn’t human. She pleaded with the aliens to allow her to come aboard their ship in exchange for work, with them eventually agreeing. Maybe it wasn’t a smart decision to go with a foreign race she knew nothing about, but anything beat staying on this godforsaken planet. She eventually learned they were Uhlangans. “What are you all doing out here?...” Tera questioned. Their unfamiliar yet soft expression comforted her for one reason or another. “Searching for something new. For greatness.” They replied. Tera spent the next few years doing this with several different groups. Eventually learning not only to do menial labor, but to also fight, find, and hunt down people with bounties on their heads, earning herself enough money to upgrade her equipment. She learned the best ways to travel from city to city and who to ask when there wasn’t a legitimate path, always working along the way. She picked up the basics of most languages from planet to planet and did her best to remember their customs. Nearly 10 years of traveling around the galaxy, learning new information and skills. She wasn’t ready before, but maybe now she was. Not once did she forget their faces. Not once did she forget their names as she would lie her head down at night… and count. “One, Dr. Kerrigan Edwards... Two, Chief Adam Porter… Three, Zachary. The. Fucking. Weasel.


"It’s rather a lonely feeling, you know?” “What is?” “Being alone.” “Well of course that’s lonely. That’s sort of the definition of alone.” “But why does it have to be?” “Are you being serious?” “Absolutely.” “That’s just the way it is. I don’t make the rules.” “What rules are you talking about?” “The rules of language.” “Wait? Why are we talking about rules? Who cares about those rules. I’m getting off track. I’m supposed to be writing something.” “We’re getting off track.” “You’re not even real. I am just lonely and board and talking to myself.” “You’re not talking to yourself. You’re talking to me who is you. There’s a difference. And before you ask, the difference is that I’m a different you from an alternate dimension. Because we’re the same person, we can communicate telepathically. It just seems like you’re talking to yourself.” “If that’s the case, then we must both be doing the same thing. I’m writing everything we’re saying down. What are you doing?” “Shooting aliens with a blaster, hiding behind cover, and talking to you.” “Sounds like you have a far more exciting life then me.” “That’s debatable. Between the two of us, I’d rather be writing everything we’re saying down instead of maybe dying to day.” “Do you think our lives are connected?” “What?” Like, when you die, I die, every one of us in every dimension dies at the same time.” “Why would it be like that?” “Because we are one in the same. If what I’m talking to is not a voice in my head, but actually another me, then that would mean every voice my head is just a different me from a different dimension communicating with me. Actually, now that I say it that way, we probably have different lives. Sometimes, certain voices do just vanish.” “Why did you even bother think about that?” “Well, I was hoping to help you in your situation. If we are all connected, none of us can die until all of us will die, then you had nothing to fear today. You weren’t going to die because I’m certainly not dying today.” “That’s a nice thought but we keep getting off from the point.” “Right? What is the point?” “I don’t know! You’re the one that started talking to me. I’m assuming you had something to help me out of this situation.” “All I said was that I felt alone, I needed to write, and I started talking to the voice inside my head which turned out to be another me from a different dimension. Which, I’m still certain that is what this. I’m just really board and alone and trying to feel less lonely by talking to myself.” “God, I wish I was you right now.” “Why?” “Because you have the time to waste doing nothing. I just killed about a dozen insectoid cyborg zombie demons, lost my best friend, and I’m certain I’m going to die.” “See, right there, that sounds more like a figment of my imagination then an alternate version of myself. ‘Insectoid cyborg zombie demons’ is me just trying to make the most absurd sounding enemies to kill. Plus, shouldn’t you be more sad that your best friend died?” “You haven’t lived in this chaos filled dimension. Best friends die every day. If I was sad for everyone of them then I would never stop crying. But I don’t have to cry. I have to survive.” “I don’t want to have your life –” “Nor should you.” “– but I’m still jealous of you.” “The feeling’s mutual. Go on.” “I feel like I have no purpose. You, at the very least, need to survive. Surviving isn’t an issue for me. Which, sorry for rubbing that in your face. But without the same challenge as you, I don’t know what to do.” “DO something.” “Damn it! I knew you were going to say that before I finished writing down what I said. That’s something I say to people that are acting just like I’m acting now. I can’t believe a me, that might be just me, but possible is another me from another dimension, told me to do the thing that I get mad at others for not doing.” “So, what is it you aren’t doing?” “Signing up for some dating apps.” “Seriously? That’s your big struggle?” “Hey, the apps looked like crap. Plus, I’m wearing my pajamas and I’m certain that the app is going to require taking a picture of myself.” “Then change.” “I have another excuse. The big one. I’m still friends with my ex and I’m moving in less than two months. So, out of respect for him, I’m waiting until I move to sign-up for any apps.” “That’s more reasonable. But, he’s your ex. Your life shouldn’t be dictated by him anymore. Why not go on dates?” “I’d rather not poke the beehive. But also, because of the fact that I’m moving, whoever I meet here couldn’t become anything more than a fling. I don’t want that, nor do I want to do that to somebody. Once I move, I can meet plenty of people. I can try for a serious relationship then.” “That’s another reasonable answer. I wouldn’t expect less from a different version of myself. So, what about poking the beehive?” “Not getting into that with you. I’m still certain that you’re a figment I made up.” “Sorry, wasn’t listening.” “Sorry, I wasn’t listening either. I found a post on reddit that I related a lot to. I had to respond. Responded three times in fact. Not sure if I should have done that but I needed to. What have you been up to while I was doing that." “. . .” “Sorry again. Went back to the post. I started exchanging messages. This is far more important that whatever’s going on with you. So, what’s been going on with you?” “You missed the entire ambush. I was freaking out, screaming, ‘Die you bug basters!’ And trying to get your attention. You asshole, you really rather be on a post than here in your head? You missed the epic one liner, which I refuse to say again, and I killed the alien queen. Also, what’s reddit?” “A place where people talk about things.” “You’re complaining about being alone when you have a place to talk to people? What a little bitch.” “One second. A new comment came up. I have to check it.” “Asshole.” “Back again. Where did we leave off?” “I blew up the planet. Now I’m back at space station Vex. You real missed all the amazing things.” “No, I didn’t. Your world might be full of action, but my world is full of emotion. I’m talking to this guy and we’re having the most . . . well . . . I wouldn’t say amazing conversation seeing as we're both feeling lonely. But we’re having a good conversation. Something meaningful. You’re right. I have it better off. I like talking to people. Better than almost dying every day. We’ll talk again sometime. I’ve got to post this story. How Meta.


# Fallen [Part One] A man and a boy are walking through an old dense forest. The man in his mid-40’s; decorated eye patch in his left eye, the other, the boy in his mid-teens. The older male raises his fist signaling the younger man to stop. He slowly pulls out a beautiful, decorated dagger and approaches a bush with much caution. He moves through the bushes to see a deer bleeding in the ground. Deep wound to the lower half of its body, blood gushing out. The man leans in to investigate, notices necrotic tissue. He presses on the wound and notices how the necrosis spreads as he presses on it. He closes his eyes and releases a deep breath. He sees the creature is still somehow alive, he takes the blade and drives it through its throat to end its suffering. He stands up and look forward into the dense path of bushes and says “*He* was here.” The two men continue to walk through the forest, older man with his dagger in-hand, the boy with a shield and sword prepared for what could come. The boy asks: “Why are we even looking for *him*? It’s not like we succeeded in finding him the last twenty times…” “We will try a thousand times if that is what it takes…” Responded the man to the boy, focus in his eyes, and his hand steady with his blade. The boy looks at the man with worry eyes, “Have you ever seen him? Face-to-face, I mean.” With a deep breath, and a face that reflected nothing but regret, the man answered: “Only a handful of times, son… But I’ve always been one step behind. Always short-handed when I had him in my grasp... But not today… This ends… today.” Determination flowing through his glance, they ventured on to what was waiting for them. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I got this patch?” Asked the man, as they silently venture forward. “You never talked about it…” Said the boy, looking at his father with curiosity. “It’s never easy to speak of one’s failures. But this is just the beginning of what my mistakes have cost me.” The boy listens closely to his father, learning of how this all came to be. The man begins to tell his tale: “When I was young, I used to venture through these same woods. Of course, back then, it was full of life, full of beauty. I was part of a small band of misfits back in the day. We were all we had. None of us had ever known what a family was, till we had each other.” We had a small wooden fort atop the trees, crudely built around them. Ladders dropped from different platforms, all connected by bridges made of wood and rope. One morning, with the first orange-hued rays of sunrise during fall, one of those boys came out of his shack, dressed in ragged clothes, with a red sheet tied on his neck to create a cape and a crown made out of twigs and leafs, he began to shout: “Hear ye! Hear ye! I, King Sigmund demand you all wake!” He began to pound a wooden spoon on an iron pot, creating a loud noise that echoed through the whole forest. All the boys and children walked out of their small shacks from all the noise Sigmund kept making. “What is all that noise…?” Asked one of the younger children, clothes bigger than he could fit, dirt all around his skin, poor lad was scratching his eyes, waking to the light of the morning. Tobey was his name. Kid was the youngest one of us. Sigmund was extremely frustrated. See, we had been planning a small heist for some time now, and he had asked all of us to acquire a key item to be able to successfully take what we were looking for. “Have all of you forgotten what it is today? We can’t miss this!” He shouted in between groans. One of the boys in another platform, Reeve, bigger in size, clothes tightly fitted, bit of a monster if you asked me, asked him: “I thought the day would be the king’s name day…” There was a clear confusion in his words. Sigmund furiously shouted back at him: “Today *is* his name day, you dimwit!” Sigmund took a deep a breath and gave the command. “Everyone to the war room!” He ran and jumped to grab on to a handle hanging from a rope, sliding his way down. The rest of the troop all jumped into their own ropes and made their way below into a small cave opening. Once inside, the cave went into a small room that had a table made from wood which we ourselves carved. Eight young kids surrounding the table, they each took to their chair. The room was decorated in the jagged style of a battle station. On the table, a crude handmade map of the city carved into it, it showed the different sectors of the city space. Sigmund began to speak as everyone eagerly listened: “As you all know, today is the king’s name day. And if there’s something that old geezer loves, is a good old city-wide parade. We’ve come up short every other time, but I’m positive we’ll get it this time.” With a crude ink-like substance, Sigmund wet a broken bamboo stick and began to mark on the map: “If the kids at the park are telling the truth, the parade is going to start from the church in the Graham Ward. From there, they will be taking the main road across the Merchant Ward all the way to the Fort. In there, he will be having his big party with all the other old people in the city.” “Did you all gather the things from the list I gave you?” Asked Sigmund like a captain to his crew. “Well, we were able to get most of the things. But how in the world are we supposed to get a sword and a helmet? It’s not like we’re knights!” said Ernis, a child growing into a boy. Towards the entrance, a scraping noise could be heard approaching. All of them stopped what they are doing to watch out for what was coming their way. The room fell silent and the noises stopped. Everyone was on their toes when all of a sudden a piece of metal flied through the entrance. Loud clanking as an iron helmet hit the table. And there I was, a boy in the middle of his teenage years, oak brown hair reaching my neck. On my hand, a sword was resting on my shoulder as I walked in. “I believe this was requested of me.” I said full of overconfidence of my skills back then. “Sigmund was shocked in awe when I came in with a knight’s armor. His face was priceless.” Said the man with a smirk as he reminisced his youth. “Wait.” Said the boy, stopping to gather the story. “You’re telling me, that you used to live in tree houses, with a bunch of kids?” The man stopped his step. “I know I never talk much about my younger days. Most of it was struggle, pain, deception. Not the kind of stories one shares at bed time, I’m afraid…” The man takes a deep breath and continues their path. “Anyhow, where were we…? Ah, yes…” “How in the world were you able to get this, Gaelin?” Asked Sigmund in awe of what was no easy feat. See, I had gone through the sewer system of the city which led under the armory of the city’s guard. I hid under the shadow of the night, shocked On that day, we were planning to steal right from the king’s keep. If we were to be caught, it was straight to the gallows for us. But Sigmund was never afraid to risk it all if it meant getting what we needed. After all, nobody was going to do it for us. \ Hey everyone! New to this sub! I would love some feedback and general feel of how this is going. If you enjoy it, I'm maybe going to be uploading the next parts.


It was about dark outside, around that magic hour. Everything that moved seemed like it was a silhouette being blotted out by the purple sky. The sunsets in Arizona are simply stunning. I was standing at the back gate where the wall meets the narrow alley where the dump trucks come down to pick up the trash. It's hard to believe the trucks could fit through that alley. Even where I'm standing just outside my gate, I would probably be crushed under those tires. I had two bags of trash in my hand. One was for the recycling and one was for the regular trash. I had been standing there in a daze, looking at that sunset for so long I forgot which bag was for what. I snapped out of it and took the fifty-fifty chance putting them in their respective bins. I mean who really puts everything in the recycle? they were likely mixed anyway. With all due respect to the environment. I always wonder how they separate all that stuff on the back-end. I can't even imagine. Sum it up to job security for the waste management industry. As for the environment is concerned, that ship has sailed, and sank. I'm standing in the middle of the alley and I can hear the sound of something far behind me moving through the gravel coming closer. I'm still looking at the sky while I can, after all, it will only last twenty minutes or so, and I'm in no rush. Im taking deep breaths enjoying the beautiful sky and the beautiful fall weather. I turn and walk back towards our gate in the alley when I see an older man stopped in front of me on his four-wheeled electric scooter and the old man looks up and gives me a cheek to cheek grin, missing teeth and all. It looked like he was on oxygen because he had those tubes in his nose. I suddenly hear the screech and rumbling of a diesel engine turning the blind corner a bit too fast into the alley. That old man was a goner. I didn't even try to save him, I took a dive like superman through my gateway. I landed in the grass in my yard starring back as the truck did it's business and moved on diligently through the alley. I jumped off my feet and ran out to the alley and saw no traces of the old man. Prepared for the worst, I looked for what I might expect to be the flattened and bloody remains of the old man who gave me that grin. It was like he was never there. That smile though, it was just his smile I remember amongst his degrading state. It felt like I was on drugs after that. It was like I couldn't feel pain. I felt energized and aware like this was a dream, but apparently, I was not aware enough to realize I was seeing some ghost. It's a miracle I even got out of the way of that truck, all I could think about was that old man. All I could think about was that old man and his electric scooter on the brink of death, but almost literally smiling in the face of death. I will never forget that grin, real or not. For all this time I was under the impression that my eyes were wide open. It was as if suddenly I was shot into the sun and forever I would go, my eyes blinded by its light. A world came to focus around me, slowly but surely. I was in a bed with some bandages on my body and head. There were tubes coming from my arms. A bit of pain began to focus my reality. seems the drugs were wearing off. I could not figure out how I got to the hospital or what had happened. I looked down, and at my bedside there he was, the old man in his electric scooter. He told me that I pushed him through the gate without second thought and saved his life. I'd been In a coma for 2 weeks and he's been praying by my side since the day it happened. He told me I was a hero. He gave me that same exact grin, and told me that it was the stupidest thing he had ever seen someone do for another person." you should've let me die." he said. I smiled back, and told him, "everybody get's a second chance, even if it's your last.


It was Christmas and I was in hospital. Actually, it was Nonni, my father’s mother, who was in hospital – I was just visiting. Papa had been away for work, Nonni had had a fall and hit her head and he’d come back to find her in hospital. He’d been by her bedside every moment he could spare since then. I’d come to be with her while he went for coffee and Mama was doing the shopping. So, I was just sitting watching her when she opened her eyes, looked straight at me and said, “Jan, is the sleigh ready?” “Don’t worry, Nonni,” I replied. “We have the four-wheel drive. We don’t need the sleigh.” “No,” she said firmly. “You must check the sleigh.” “Alright. I will, Nonni.” Then she closed her eyes and seemed to go back to sleep. Shortly after that, Papa came back. “Has she woken up?” he asked as he came in. “Well, yes. It was a bit weird. She woke up and spoke to me but I don’t know if she knew who I was or when she thought it was.” “What did she say, Jan?” “She wanted to know if the sleigh was ready and told me I had to check it.” Papa looked concerned. “What day is it?” he asked. “I mean, what is the date?” Wondering why on earth he wanted to know, I told him. “It’s the twenty-second of December, Papa.” “Right, Jan. It will be dark by the time you and your mother get home today and I will be staying here. So, tomorrow you must check over the sleigh.” “But why, Papa? We don’t even use it for going to church on Christmas Day.” “Jan, I can’t explain now, but trust me, it is important. Every year, it must be checked, even if it hasn’t been out of the barn all year. You must do it properly. Check every strap and bolt. Make sure the runners are clean and the metalwork lubricated. If you find anything that needs replacing, you must ring me tomorrow so that I can bring home whatever is necessary and fix it tomorrow evening. Understand?” I looked at him in amazement. He was serious about this. I nodded slowly. “I can trust you to do this for me?” he asked. “Yes, Papa,” I promised. The next day, I overslept. It was the holidays and Mama let me sleep in, so I didn’t get started on the sleigh until almost noon. It was cold out in the old barn and I had to keep stopping to warm my hands up. The barn isn’t really a barn, it’s just three sides and a roof, so there was good enough daylight coming in to start with, but the days are really short in winter where we live and I knew I didn’t have long before I lost the light. By mid-afternoon I’d had to go back to get a torch so that I could see properly. Mama made me a flask of hot chocolate to take back with me, but didn’t ask what I was doing out there. It was as if she already knew. It’s a big sleigh – the sort that would take a whole family around in winter, pulled by horses. Of course, we haven’t used it for generations, but now I remembered that Papa used to work on it every winter before Christmas. When I little, I sometimes used to watch him and then I would think that he’d take us out for a drive in it as a treat. But we never did. It never occurred to me then that we didn’t have any horses to pull it anyway. I’d almost finished checking the sleigh: cleaning and oiling the runners and metalwork, washing the painted parts, rubbing teak oil into the woodwork. I really got involved in the job once I was started – and the more effort I put in, the less cold I felt. Last of all, I climbed back onto the driver’s seat to put the leather seat pad back in place. There were leather straps that go round and underneath it, to stop it sliding about, and I found that they had gone stiff and brittle and one of them broke as I was trying to fasten it. It was far too late to phone Papa, he would already be on his way home and expecting everything to be done by the time he got here. I was going to have to repair it myself. I carried the pad and straps down to the house. I had some leather, and leather-working tools, in my room. It was a good piece, already treated and softened. I was planning to make my own pair of snowshoes for the first time and had bought and prepared the leather for making the bindings. Part of me was annoyed that I was having to cut it up to use on the old sleigh, but I didn’t want to let Papa down, so I got on with the repair, trying to get it all finished before he got home. I did get it done. It was really cold and dark going out to the barn again to get it fixed back on. I couldn’t wear my gloves to strap it back in and it was difficult to wedge the torch to shine the light in the proper place. It was fiddly and my fingers were numb and clumsy and I thought I’d never do it, but at last I managed it. I went back to the house and was just going in when I saw Papa’s headlights turning into the drive. I didn’t wait out for him – it was too cold. As soon as he came in, Papa looked over at me. “All done, Jan?” he asked. I nodded. I couldn’t actually trust myself to speak because my fingers were hurting and burning so much with the returning circulation that I might have moaned, but I was really glad that I’d finished in time. I hoped that he would tell me why it had been so important to make the sleigh ready, but Mama called us to the table for supper and asked Papa how Nonni was. Papa said that she was much better now and, although they wanted her to stay there tonight, we could go and bring her home to us tomorrow for the Christmas celebrations. “Shall we save our presents until she is here with us?” he asked. Mama and I agreed. That evening, we all made sure that everything was set out ready for next day. Papa and I would drive to the city to fetch Nonni from the hospital, while Mama made her room ready for her and got our Christmas dinner prepared and everything else ready for family and friends coming to visit. Then I went to bed, tired out from all my work, despite having slept in that morning. I still didn’t know what the fuss had been about the sleigh. I woke up on Christmas Eve as excited as always. The Christmas tree downstairs was sparkling with its white lights and decorations, the presents were there waiting and I had to be patient, eat breakfast, clear up and then set off with Papa to fetch Nonni. As we left, I noticed that Papa had been up to the barn already. I could see the front of the sleigh poking out. We brought Nonni home and the rest of the day passed with presents, laughter, food and drink, and people visiting to see Nonni and celebrate with us. It was no different from any other Christmas Eve – all about families and fun. Still, the sleigh was in the back of my mind and every so often I would find myself wondering. Next morning, in the quiet time before we set off for church, Papa called to me to come with him outside. There had been another fall of snow overnight and the ground was all crisp and clean and squeaked underfoot. The sun was in our eyes low on the horizon as we walked up to the barn. It was difficult to see clearly, but there was the silhouette of the back of the sleigh outside the barn and there was a figure standing beside it in the brightness. As we got closer, I saw that he was a tall man, with a trousers and tunic made of white reindeer hide, with a fur-trimmed hood, mittens and soft hide boots for walking in snow. He nodded in greeting to Papa and held out his right hand to me. I shook it politely, as one does when meeting a stranger, and waited to be introduced. He spoke in a deep, resonant voice, “I thank you, Jan Jansson, for your good work on that seat. If you look in your sleigh, you’ll find something there for you.” He released my hand and gestured to our barn. I looked at Papa. He smiled and said quietly to me, “Yes, Jan. Go on.” I’d been so focussed on the man that it was only then that I realised that this was not our sleigh. I looked again at the stranger, whom Papa seemed to have been expecting – there was something about him that kept drawing my gaze – then I turned and went into the barn, still blinking from the sunlight. Our sleigh was there, with its back towards me as if it had just been pushed in. On the front seat, I found a piece of leather. It was as big as the one I had cut up two days before in order to mend the sleigh and it was just as soft and well worked. I would be able to make my snowshoes after all. How had he known? Papa couldn’t have told him. I stood there, holding it in my hands and wondering. Then I remembered. I went back out to thank him and to show Papa, but the sleigh was gone and the stranger with it. Just Papa was waiting there in the sunlight, smiling at me. “Papa,” I said uncertainly, “Who was that? How - where did the sleigh go?” “Now, Jan, now I can tell you about it, and why we have to look after that old sleigh. There are not so many of them about any more.” So, he told me what his father had told him. How long ago, in my great-grandfather’s day, a stranger had needed to borrow a sleigh because his own had been damaged by something – falling branches perhaps. It had been during the night of the twenty-third of December, when all the children in Scandinavia have their presents delivered ready to open on Christmas Eve. The stranger had said that he would bring the sleigh back on Christmas Day after he had delivered to all the other children on Christmas Eve night. Ever since then, our sleigh had been kept ready at Christmas time. Sometimes, it was used, most often it wasn’t. Papa said that, one year, a completely different sleigh had been left in our barn, but ours had been returned the following Christmas. So, it seemed that we were not the only family who were prepared to help out in case of need. I went with Mama and Papa to church that Christmas Day with one thought after another going round in my head. Does Santa really exist? Did I really meet him – Saint Nicholas, Tomte, Father Christmas – call him what you will? He didn’t look at all like the jolly pictures. He was much more solemn and awe-inspiring. I suppose even last-minute presents ordered on the internet have to be delivered by someone. All I know is that I am going to keep looking after that sleigh, just in case. But maybe I’ll start checking it over in the summer next year when it’s warm – not leave it all until December.