It stops here, today. Freya doesn't want to follow in her mother's footsteps. The only thing they'll share is those blue eyes and a name, because her mother was narcissistic enough to name her child after herself. She claims they're named after the goddess of love and fertility, who she prayed to when she struggled to get pregnant. Said that God wasn't taking her requests. Did she ever bother to consider him saying no was his way of responding? That maybe she wasn't cut out for parenting? She didn't want a child, she wanted a puppet. A clone. Freya, junior, fills the last box and tapes it shut. Her mother thinks she is packing her things to keep them safe as she repaints her room the same shade of white that it has been for eighteen years. She didn't even argue this time about wanting to paint it purple like when she was six, and twelve, because her mother insists it'll throw off the theme of the house (which evidentially is white and boring) and it's not like she's really going to paint anyway. The rain starts, just like the weatherman predicted. Which is great, because she had been banking on that, so that it'd be too wet to open the windows to let the paint fumes out. Looks like they'll have to wait until the sun comes out tomorrow. She'll be gone by sun up tomorrow. She sits through another dinner of overcooked porkchops. It's the last time, she promises herself, so tonight she clears her plate and excuses herself to go over her plan one final time. Her mother goes to bed at ten every night. By ten ten she is fast asleep, and by ten fifteen Freya will be packing up the back of her car until ten thirty, when the neighbor comes home from work. Then she'll pull away once the driveway is out of their line of sight, and drive until the sun comes up.

Moving the boxes downstairs to the front hallway, she fibs saying that it'll give her more room to move around tomorrow. Her mother buys it. She even volunteers to help, and claps excitedly about how they'll get to bond all day tomorrow, putting her room back together. As if they don't spend every waking moment together. Having graduated last month, she hasn't had school to keep her occupied. She wanted to get a job, but her mother insisted that she stay home before starting community college in the fall. The college that she wasn't going to, because she was going to try working and writing at night. There were so many ideas, idling in her head, waiting for a moment to escape. Tonight is her moment. She drives, a thermos of coffee in her cupholder. She stops every hour to refill it, and relieve herself, but otherwise it's a straight shoot until sunrise when she arrives in town. Checking into the airbnb, she checks the time. Her mother will be waking up in twenty minutes, like clockwork. Then in twenty five minutes she will notice the missing boxes, and in twenty eight minutes, her phone will get tracked. It'll say she's in a trash can about twenty minutes from home, in a convenience store parking lot. It won't however, say that she's bought a flip phone and transferred her contacts. It won't say that she got a new number yesterday when she went to 'buy paint,' and it definitely won't say that she made the ringtone that song her mom hates, because it has that one word that she's not supposed to say in it. The phone rings, and she sings along to her tone, too giddy to pick up immediately. It goes to voicemail, and she scrambles to call back. "Elias, sorry, hi." Her heart beats faster that it's supposed to, and picks up speed when he responds. "It's funny, I always thought your voice would be higher." They've only ever emailed, in a secret account that she's kept hidden from her mother. His voice sounds identical to what she pictured, and she wonders what other assumptions she has made about him are true. She stifles a yawn. "I'm tired. This is my tired voice. I haven't slept since Tuesday." "Rest up, and then meet me at the diner at three when I get off. Do you still have the address?" He had sent it to her a few weeks back while laying out the plan for her move. Come to Erie, move in to his spare room, get a job at the diner (his boss had already said she could start once settled in) and avoid all things Indiana for the rest of forever. She could finally be Freya the free. None of this Freya Junior nonsense. She could make her own choices, do and be what she wanted instead of some idealized doll modeled after the shambles of an overcontrolling narcissist. They meet, and he's even cuter in person that the picture he sent. She checks for a pulse to make sure she is still alive, and that this isn't some sort of post mortem fantasy. Thump thump, heart's beating. He wraps her in a hug. This time she doesn't have to search for a pulse. It's blaringly obvious. That afternoon he helps her move in. She hardly has anything, he points out. Her whole life fits into a car. "I left behind some things. Boxes of decor my mother picked out, clothes she insisted I wear. Which reminds me. Is there a second hand store around here? I have enough clothes to last maybe two weeks, if I'm lucky." She's saved money for the past few years, and while she has a sum in her account, that she removed her mother from Monday when she went to her dentist appointment, she doesn't want to go broke. Elias pulls out his phone and dials instead of responding. He exchanges a few words with someone on the other end. "My sister Hayley is donating a bunch of old clothes that she outgrew. She says you can take what you want, and take the rest to the thrift store. Which I will happily take you to, tomorrow. They close in half an hour, and that is not enough time to fix all of this." He gestures to her outfit. She hasn't changed since yesterday. The outfit reeks of her mother's taste, and body odor. She spends the next morning learning the ropes at the diner. It's her first job, but she wants to come off as confident, and does so, until she trips over a child playing on the floor and a plate of sunny side up eggs land on a customer's lap. "I guess they're sunny side down eggs now, huh?" The customer gives a big belly laugh. Turns out he's a regular, and he takes her by the shoulders in for a hug. The egg falls to the floor, and yolk smears everywhere. She doesn't care. She needs this hug. Running away to start over is freaking terrifying, and she sniffles into his shirt. He squeezes her harder before letting go. The rest of her shift goes fine. Not great, and while she is still upright, she vetoes clothes shopping for another day so she can collapse into the couch. It takes a few days of work until things become second nature. She learns to balance the tray, like how she learned to balance on her toes in ballet class years ago. She stops looking over her shoulder, thinking her mother is going to show up. There had been a few close calls. A lot of women had that God awful haircut.

She looks in the mirror. A haircut, of course. Her long locks had been a choice of her mother. "You have such gorgeous hair, Freya. It'd be a terrible shame to cut it." They'd trim off an inch, for dead ends sake. The weight pulled at her neck. "Elias, is there a beauty shop nearby?" The hairdresser pulls her hair into a ponytail. In four snips, it's over. Her head feels so light and free. He hands her the ponytail. "You're going to make some little princess very happy, darling." He shapes her bob up and demands that she closes her eyes before spinning her around to the mirror. When they open, she has to force them closed and open again to make sure she isn't dreaming.

"You look beautiful, Freya."

Well, if the blinking wasn't any indication, her pulse sure is. They take a photo, and she's beaming so wide that he doesn't even have to prompt her to say cheese. Elias asks for him to text him a copy, and suddenly it's his phone wallpaper, her holding onto one of the remnants of her past. She wants to cut more things. They return home, and she plops in front of the sacks of clothes, pawing through them with a sense of purpose. She digs out her sewing kit and makes a few adjustments. Her mother would say that hemline was a bit too short.

Please, as if the male population won't know she has thighs if her dress hits her knees. She pulls the dress over her head, and Elias walks in to find her in just her underwear. He blushes beet red and hurries back out. From the doorway, he calls to her.

"We have off tomorrow. Did you still want to go to the thrift store?" "Sure. If it's not too much trouble, could we stop by the nature preserve? Hiking has been on my to do list since before I got here." Her mother would never let her go, because she was afraid that bears would get her. Heck, she didn't even want her walking around the neighborhood when she was a teenager, because she could get lost, so it wasn't like she'd let her loose in the woods. They do both, and she's glad that she went shopping first, because she is pretty sure she can't feel her legs after five miles of trails. She's pretty sure she absolutely loves it. She goes back on her next day off to figure it out. She's alone this time, in a pair of leggings that she had picked up for a dollar. Her mother never let her wear skin tight clothes. A jogger passes, and she looks around to see if anyone is watching. They aren't, and she tries her hand at it. Her lungs hurt. She stops to walk, until the urge rises again, and she finds her stride quickening into something akin to a light jog.

She loves it. Every morning after, she's waking up early to run to the diner. She's flying through her shifts, and nothing can take her down. It's been two and a half weeks of becoming who she wants to be. Curiosity gets the better of her, and she pulls up her mother's social media accounts. She's had her blocked, but her account is public, so she uses Elias' account to snoop.

There's pictures of her, pleas for her safe return. She says she has no clue why Freya would leave. The pain hits her, hard. How can she not know how she has destroyed a life? How can she feel no guilt for making someone start over nearly two decades too late to make something of themselves? He spins her chair around and kisses the top of her head.

"Don't waste more tears over her. It's her turn to cry." He dries her eyes with his thumb, kissing the lids. When he pulls back, he finds an expression on her face that he can't place. She leans forward and kisses him. It's a bold move. She's never kissed a boy before, and she's definitely never let one kiss her back, or slid her hands around a guy's neck, but it's her metamorphosis, and she wants the guy. Judging by the thing his teeth are doing, she thinks it is mutual. She buys her first bit of makeup that afternoon. Concealer, because her hair can't quite cover it. It's been twenty two days since she fled. She has so much that she thought she could never have, and it's a bit intoxicating. She's gone from no choice, to all of them, and sometimes she can't tell left from right. Hayley helps teach her what it's meant to be a woman.

"Your mother never gave you the sex talk?" "We did. It went don't ever sleep with anyone until you're married, or you'll never make it into Heaven ." Freya's fingers trail over the ring on her lip. If her mother could see her, she'd tell her to take it out. She hated facial piercings, calling them tacky. Hayley pushes her hand away. "Don't fiddle with it. We don't need you snake bite getting infected. I don't think Elias would find that too attractive." "Should you really be giving me the sex talk about your brother?" "Would you rather find out what he likes from the girl that had to overhear it in her bedroom, or trust the internet to tell you what to do?" Five days later, she takes her advice. Girl knew what she was talking about. And yes, her other assumptions were correct, thank God. Three days pass. She's been free for a month, and she pulls out an old ragged checklist she had made the night before she left. I want to like the way I look. I want to feel loved. Both she could say were a raging success. She takes one last look at the last line, grinning like a fool as she shoves it away and laces up her running shoes. I want to be free.


Every palm tree was dressed in lights. Traffic zoomed by on either side of the median barrier. Crowds—families, couples, tourists—were all over the sidewalk. The open shops were packed. Cameras clicked and flashed at the decorations painting the downtown area.

I was leaving too much of my fate to this coat. Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything hooded. The hood on this oversized coat blocked at least a third of my vision. I had to turn my head to watch my six, a big no-no for me.

Because it was a couple sizes too big, it hid my figure. Unless someone was standing right in front of me, they couldn't see my face.

My hands were shoved in my pockets. I was mindful to keep my finger off the trigger of my micro nine-millimeter in my left hand. Keeping my head down, I avoided eye contact and kept moving. A few feet ahead, I saw a gray car pull up to the curb. Three older women got out of the back seat. They went straight to the shops. I walked up to the gray car, opened the door, and slid into the back.

Hearing the back door close made the gray-haired man in the front seat jump. "Don't look in your rearview mirror and don't ask questions," I said, "and I'll make this trip worth your while." His wrinkled hands squeezed the steering wheel. The movement was subtle, but I could see his shoulders moving up and down. "Take me to Third Street. Drop me at the first stop sign you see. Your payment will be in the back, got it?" The man nodded before pulling away from the curb.

When we reached Third, I tossed a couple of bills on the back seat before I got out. I turned my back to the car. Hearing it drive off, I went down Third Street on foot. It was as quiet as I remembered it. The occasional streetlamp was my only light. Noticing someone walking outside of their door, I turned my head slightly. My head was tilted down, but my ears were open.

After walking for several minutes, I saw the house with a brick mailbox—the only brick mailbox on the street. I turned the corner to get to the side of the two-story home. Brown vines climbed up the white trellis on the side of the house, next to the fence. I looked to my left. Silence hung in the air. I looked to my right. Nothing stirred. I climbed the trellis up to the window right above it. To my surprise, the window was open when I tried it.

Blackness was all I could see when I climbed in. When I hit the light, the pale pink walls were almost soothing. It was nine o'clock, according to the clock on the wall. I closed and locked the window behind me. It was quiet when I pressed my ear against the bedroom door. I slowly turned the doorknob as far as it would go before dragging the door open. I lunged across the narrow hallway, avoiding the loud floorboard that was right outside the bedroom door.

Tiptoeing down the hall, I took light, shallow breaths. I pressed my back against the wall and peeked around the corner next to the stairwell. Blue light bounced on my mom's face. The volume was turned all the way down. Judging by her bathrobe, she wasn't expecting company. I pulled my hood back and turned the corner.

"Jesus!" My mom clutched the front of her robe and panted loudly.

"Hey, Mom."

"God, Hannah!"

"Nice to see you too, but this isn't a social call."

My mom stood up and pulled her robe closed. "When did you get here," she yelled.

"Few seconds ago. I'd tell ya to look into an alarm system, but we need to leave no later than tomorrow morning."

She gasped. "Why?"

"The less you know, the better."

She stared at me. "Could you have called first?"

I scoffed. "We can't afford for your turtle-necking church friends to tell anyone I'm back in town."

"Are you hungry, at least?"

"Starved," I said, sitting on the couch.

I never knew why my mom got such a kick out of these game shows. I really didn't get why she turned the sound off just to watch them with the subtitles. My mom had done this ever since I could remember.

After a few minutes, she handed me a plate of spaghetti and sat back in her warm spot. She sighed. "I'm happy to see you." Her eyes were glued to the screen.

"Thanks."

"Thanks?"

I shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

"An 'I'm happy to see you too, Mom' would be nice."

I could've watched my hair grow with how far my eyes went in the back of my head. "It's not enough that I came all this way for you?" I cracked my knuckles. My mom stared at my hands when I started wiggling my fingers. Tatted snakes coiled around my last three fingers on both hands.

"I don't know why you marked your hands like that," she said, shaking her head.

"Good." It wasn't long before I felt myself nodding off. I got off the couch and stretched. "Night," I said with a wave. My mom waived back. I made my way back to my old bedroom.

The faint sound of a car door closing drew me out of bed. My heart was pounding. I rolled off the queen-sized bed and onto the floor on all fours. The coat I pulled off last night was next to the bed. I dug in the pocket and pulled it out. I crawled to my bedroom door. Pain stabbed my right shoulder. I clenched my jaw and held my breath. I released air slowly before I dragged myself on the carpet to the other side of the room with my left arm. I twisted the doorknob and took long, tiptoed strides down the hall. I was standing by the door when whoever was on the other side knocked.

My mom entered the room. Locking eyes with her, I put my finger over my mouth. She went to the door. Standing on her toes, she looked through the peephole. She glanced at me. I motioned with two fingers for her to keep her eyes on the visitor. Sunlight hit my mom's face as the door opened. She smiled through her squint. "Morning, officer."

"Hello, Mrs. Lee." A dark-skinned man in uniform crossed the threshold. "Sorry to show up unannounced, but I'm afraid—"

He stopped when he saw my mom glance in my direction. I put my barrel to the back of his head. My mom's jaw dropped, and she took a step back. "Blink," I said, "and it'll be the last thing you do."

The officer slowly raised his hands. "Hear me out before you blow my head off, Hannah," a smooth masculine voice said. I lowered my pistol. There was only one person in this town other than my mom, who called me Hannah. He turned to face me. His light gray eyes pinned me to the spot. "Boo," Tarrence said.

"Boo" was right. I was looking at the ghost from high school past. He’d traded his shoulder-length locs for a fade with deep waves but still had the same flawless skin. "What are you doing here," I said.

"Warning Mrs. Lee to get out of here."

"Way ahead of you. We were just leaving."

"Good. Word on the street is Viper isn't sure you're dead. This would likely be the first place he sent someone to draw you out."

"Thanks," I said. Tarrence nodded and turned.

"Before you go," my mom said, closing the door. "I think we should pray."

The three of us held hands and bowed our heads. "Yay, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death," my mom started, "we will fear no evil because You're with us." The only evil I feared anymore was my own. My only desire was to be out of this town and back to my new life in one piece. "Be a hedge of protection over us and extinguish the fiery arrows of the enemy." I nodded, opening my eyes. They were starting to sting. When my mom finished her prayer, Tarrence said goodbye to her. We locked eyes before he stepped out the door.

"Tarrence," I said, walking quickly after him. He looked over his shoulder and turned his body to face me. "Thank you." His eyes glistened. I placed my left hand on his face.

He put his hand over mine and kissed my palm. "If God wills it," he said, "I'll see you again."

I prayed the first silent prayer of my life when he said that. He didn't let my hand go when I turned to walk away. "Since when were you left-handed?"

I winked at him. "About nine months ago, sharpshooter."

"That how it's gonna be?"

I shook my head. "Takes a hitter to know one," I said, showing him the back of my hands. It takes a hitter to know that no one could miss at that range. Both my palms went to his cheeks. "Take care," I said before going back inside.

My mom was packed and walking to the door with her suitcase. "You were always a bad influence on that boy." I laughed. She wasn't wrong. Tarrence's squad car had gone by the time we pulled out. Hopefully, God forgave me enough to do me a solid.


When my mother called me last night, I never thought that the news would be so heart wrenching, but I guess finding out your dad has passed away kinda does that to a person. Me and my dad were never close. He liked books, I liked sports, he hated snakes, and I practically adored them. These were some of the reasons I would use to explain our distance from each other, but I never knew how stupid they all were until I went back home for his funeral.   As soon as I walked out of the airport the hot Florida sun shone brightly in my eyes, making me sneeze so much, you would have thought I was one of Snow Whites dwarfs. But I persisted and kept walking towards my mom’s ugly new red car. Once I got to the car I stepped in, and as soon as I did my mom asked, “Are you ok?”. She tried looking sad, but I could always see through her lies. I knew she was relieved that he was gone, because once the child support money stopped coming my mother was done with my dad. “I’m ok mom. Can you please just take me to the hotel.” I said in my annoyed voice. “Okay sweetie.” She tried looking in my eyes after she said this, but I turned my head.   The car ride wasn’t that interesting. We just sat in the car as my old Emo playlist blasted in the car, because that was way better than silence. Once we made it to the hotel I walked straight to my room, completely ignoring my mom. Then for some strange reason as soon as I stepped in the room I burst into tears. I started to realize that every on I loved was dead. My nana, my dad, my grandparents. And even though we weren’t super close, I still chose to stay with my dad over my mom. I just couldn’t process anything, so I left. I checked straight out of the hotel called an Uber and went to the one place I have always felt safe...my best friend’s house.   She was so welcoming, and the best part is she didn’t ask about my dad. We were having such a great time hanging out and catching up on the last 5 years, until she asked THE question. “This is fun and all, but what are you doing here? You need to be at the wake”. Her eyes were so gentle yet bright when she said this, and even though I was mad I couldn’t help but hug her. She is the only person who has ever understood me and I couldn’t bare to loose that. So I agreed to let her take me, to see my dad. After a big argument over what I should wear, I was eventually pushed out of the house in a nice black suit.

                                                      ...  When we got to the wake everyone was soaked in their tears, well, everyone except my mother. She was faking it as best as she could, but it was still extremely easy to see through. Even her dog was disgusted by her lame attempt at sadness. But like the strong woman I am I walked past her with out saying anything and went right inside the house. It was my childhood home. It triggered me, and all of a sudden when I looked around I realized that none of the people there cared about him. They were just unknown colleagues from work. Once I realized that, I lost it. I couldn’t help but scream as anxiety and memories rushed through my head. I started to throw glasses and flowers until I collapsed onto the floor in complete and utter sadness. I couldn’t hear anything outside my own thoughts, and all I kept thinking was how I wasted time. All I did was let the differences between me and my dad emotionally separate us. I just kept... keep wishing I spent more time with him figuring out what we had in common.

  I have always said not to look back and that’s what I did for a while, but now I can’t help it. I keep looking back at the wake and everything before it, and I regret everything. Well at least I know now that I have to soak up every moment I have with a person before they are gone. And that is why I am moving back to Florida, so I can patch up all my broken family relationships before it’s too late.


The kings' castle was full of laughter and light. It bounced off the walls and spread the joy of the night. The happiness of the night was contradicting the natural gloomy and goth look of the castle. Hundreds of people dancing, eating, and drinking till their life's content. A beautiful young women stepped out of a carriage with the help of her brother. She wore a dress layered dress, each a descending shade of green. The neckline being heartshaped and a dark green corset looking bodice. Her dark brown hair was twisted into braids that connected in the back and left half of her down.

"Are you ready, brother?" she asked quietly as to not draw to much attention to them. They didn't need it yet. They had planned this night for to long for it to go bad before it even started. "Ready as I'll ever be. Are you ready, Naomi?" he replied back to her with a cheeky smirk on his face. He wore a white shirt, a dark green waistcoat, and a black jacket and pants. His brown hair that was more of a light caramel color then her deep brown. He also had shaper features on his face then hers. You could only really tell that they were related by their eyes.

They both had stormy gray eyes that looked like a hurricane swirling. They were gifted these eyes from their mother's side of family. Naomi didn't reply to her brother, just rolled her eyes in a joking manner and kept walking towards the steps of the castle. Her brother-Roland- laughed and followed her.

They both stepped into the ball, the birthday of the prince to be exact. The room was swelled with people dancing, laughing, and drinking. Piles of food and drinks on tables and decorations  galore. Half the kingdom is starving, and the prince get a lavish party go figures Naomi thought with distain. Why care about your people? A tap on her shoulder brought her out of her thought. She looked over to see Roland mouthing to her to fix her face. Her face must have shown the distaste for the place. She did need to fix it or they would be caught. Noami looks at her brother nodding her head. " So, we can't start till everyone is drunk enough so let's have fun for a bit, yeah?" whispered Roland.

Before she could even blink let alone give him an answer Roland was lost in the sea of happy people. Rolling her eyes at her brother letting a chuckle escape at him. She turned her head to the side to get a read of the room when she made eye contact with someone sounded by people. A blond man with shaggy hair, that surprisingly didn't make him look like a dog, icy blue eyes that remined Noami of the icicles that would grow in the kingdom during the winters. Prince James Crown. His name was a bit on the nose if you asked Noami.

Should she start step 1 this early? Would that mess up the plan? A little flirting to start wouldn't hurt right? Smiling at the prince, she winked at him before looking away. Moving to the food table to see what they had before dancing. She found her favorite treat. Crackers with cheese and pomegranate seeds. Eating was a big part of their kingdom culture before when the villages could afford food like this. It seems from the arrangement of foods and drinks that the nobles and royalty could. Trying not to scoff at that thought she ate a few of the treats not knowing when she would be able to have one again. These treats always remined her of when she and Roland where young and before food and water got scarce in the lower villages. It remined her of home and her mom humming a soft tune while cleaning the mess made from making the food.

Snapping out of her trance before she got to lost Naomi moved towards the dance floor. A sea of bodies pressing up to each other and dancing. Many different colors flashing from the dresses and suits. She would start step one now as the sun was far pass setting and you could hear the drunken laughs of the men.

Noami was but a flash on the dance floor. Dancing with whoever she could acting as if she was just her to have fun. While dancing she kept subtly making eye contact with the prince as if to draw him to her. After a while of dancing, she got lost in the sea of people and laughs. For moment she forgot what she was here for and let genuine happiness show on her face. Throwing her head back in laughter, she moved to her next dance partner.

Coming face-to-face with the blonde prince from earlier. " Hello, my prince." muttered Noami with a smile to the prince. This is her chance. Her only chance, she need to find her brother to signal him to start his part of the plan. Thanking whatever god was on her side that the heels she wore let her see over the prince's shoulder.

Looking back at the prince after failing to find her brother, she found that he was looking expecting at her. Oh! he must have asked her a question or something like that she thought. "I'm sorry my prince. Could you please repeat what you said?" Noami asked the prince.

"Please, someone as beautiful as you can call me James. I said how are you enjoying my party?" the prince or should I say James replied.

A blush coats Noami cheeks at the complement. No! No! You will not blush at him. You are only here to distract, so your brother steal. This is not happing. " Oh! Thank you my pri- James. And I'm having a wonderful time tonight." said Noami with a smile. Continuing to look for her brother without looking suspicious. Finally finding him she bounced he eyes between the prince and him while giving a shooing motion. Seeing her with the prince and making sure the guards were watching the royals, her brother snuck off.

Looking back at the prince with a smile to not make how nervous for her brother obvious. " I'm glad you are having a wonderful night. Now may I ask, how I have never seen you before cause surely, I would remember a face as beautiful as you. " The prince askes with a smirk.

Truely looking at the prince for the first time tonight close up, she releases that he was fairly attractive with his blond hair that seemed to be a dirty blonde up close, a godly jaw line, and lest not forget those icy eyes. She would probably like him if it wasn't for him and his family being royals. If it wasn't for the fact that he was here eating, drinking, and partying till he's had his fill, while many villages were starving.

How should answer? Should i say I'm from a village? Or say I'm not from this kingdom? She didn't know what to say so she said the fist thing that came to mind." Well James I've never been up to the castle before or around any nobility." answered Noami. Shit! Why the fuck you say that? He'll know you're from a village now. Noami couldn't believe what she said. She could also feel his hand tighten around her waist while she answered. What for she also didn't know.

"Oh? So where are you from then if not nobility?" questioned the prince. Well, she was already too deep to go back so might as well answer truthfully. " I'm from one of the kingdoms villages, James." responded Noami cringing inside. Wondering how much longer her brother would be because she just keeps digging herself in a deeper hole. The prince thought out loud " The villages? We haven't had people from the villages to any of our parties in a while. Maybe you can answer why?"

Before she could answer, she was spun around for the current dance she was in, spotting her brother while being spun. He had a bag with him, and he was making his way out of the ballroom. Okay. She needs get away from this conversation so she could meet her brother and leave.

"Well, sire the villages barely have enough money for food, water, or shelter let alone money for dresses and suits" Noami mumbled her answer back to the prince. The prince looks puzzled, like he had never heard of anyone struggling. "No. You must be mistaken because all of our kingdom is plentiful and happy." grumbled the prince.

This causes a laugh out of Naomi followed by a scoff, thinking he was joking. When he looks at her confused on why she was laughing, she realizes he wasn't joking. " You're not joking" Noami says shocked. James shakes his head. " Oh, you naive prince. You truly don't know what happening in your own kingdom?" Noami scoffed. As the music for the dance came to an end, she backed up from the prince and told him " I would check on your villages truly."

As she turned to leave the prince grabbed her arm and asked, " What is your name?". She smiled at him and said "Noami". This caused the grip on her wrist to loosen enough for her to walk away. The prince lost Noami in the crowds of people.

Noami when outside to see if she could find Roland. While looking for him she couldn't help but think about how clueless the prince looked about how the villages where struggling. This didn't sit right with Naomi as the royal family was supposed to help and protect the people. If your clueless, how can you do anything? She had found Roland at the bottom of the steps. He was calling a carriage looking around. Roland spotted her an called her name out telling her to hurry up. Walking as fast as she could down the steps, with her heels on. She made it to the bottom of the steps just in time for a carriage to get there. Roland helped her into the carriage, and they set off.

Turning to Roland, she asked "Well did you get it?". He grinned at her unzipping his bag, he pulled out a long but thin brown box and opened it to show a necklace, which was worth more than both of their lives combined. Maybe even more then everyone in the village.

The whole reason they came tonight was to steal the necklace to sell to help the village out. They did it! Noami couldn't believe it. She screamed and hugged her brother. With the money from the necklace, they could feed everyone in the village for the rest of their lives. She could already taste the crackers with cheese and pomegranate seeds.


Talk to Me She wakes and dread seeps back into her like a tide, cold and inescapable. Please talk to me , she thinks. Let it be today . Across the bedroom, the window sill glows blue-grey beneath the shudder, and the room is dark and cool and vaguely antiseptic smelling. She must have cleaned for him; he loves a clean place, or rather he loves watching her clean: naked cleaning, they call it. There’s also naked dinner, naked TV (though never during his gameshows, she’s tried), and on one memorable occasion, naked car washing. They lead to love-making, these silly events. Had she rinsed dinner plates, or tossed his stained coveralls into the washing machine with nothing on – save an apron – and he’d enveloped her and they’d been together? She can’t remember. All has become a blur since … well, since he stopped talking to her. She turns towards him under the thin blanket. She’s cold, freezing in fact. She will get them the best blanket money can buy, she muses, one they will never want to come out from under, and then nestles timidly into his back. It’s a broad back, a rugby player’s (former), one she never hesitated to hop onto during those frenetic, hundred and eighty seconds between classes in high school, in college, or when they closed on their first home and he was literally being handed the key to the front door and she was out-of-her-mind happy. He stirs but does not move away from her. A good sign.

What’s wrong? She whispers into the nape of his neck. And this time he does react: “Maa … ehhh,” he stammers. It’s hollow and pained and seems to come from deep inside of him. It makes her feel insignificant, microscopic. Nightmares, so many lately.

It’s ok. It’s ok .

She can’t remember the last time he spoke to her. And he’s such a talker, especially after a few drinks. A small memory unfolds, bright and vivid: the two of them driving the Hana Highway in some ridiculously high-end rental; top down: sun and wind and hair everywhere; she with an un-corked bottle of red blend from the winery atop the mountain secreted in a brown paper bag; him grinning, hand very high on her thigh, saying: oh, yeah, that’ll throw the cops WAY off . She tries to remember the fullness of his voice, its tenor, his monologues, his contagious laugh, his pausing of CNN or FOX and contesting exasperatedly what is being posited, and then turning and providing unsolicited explanations for her, and her complete acceptance because in those moments she is awash in his true – if not closeted – intellectual colors.

She’s sure her husband is the only mechanic alive who reads two books a week, watches Jeopardy, America Says, or Idiot Test (his newest favorite) with a near fanatic intensity, and who actually incorporated the word anti-establishmentarianism into the first ever conversation with her asshole parents and made it not awkward.

God, how she loves him. She think-shouts: So talk to me now, damn it! Tears come. They burn like ice water in her eyes and on her cheeks. She sits up gingerly, careful not to wake him (always a concern, this), and wipes her face. Well, maybe that’s part of this whole mess: my ridiculous deference to him and this new trouble. And on the heels of that: Ugh, I’m becoming my mother. But that’s not entirely true, or fair, she admits to herself in the darkness. Barbara Montgomery feared Donald Montgomery, and with cause. And so did she all the way up to his thunderclap heart attack in a Safeway parking lot that put an abrupt, vacuous end to the black-happy bullshit. No, her mother couldn’t help herself, not then. And why she continues not to is maddening and horrifying. She doesn’t fear this man curled next to her, not that way; he’d no sooner hurt her than he would his own mother (or over-achieving younger sister, for that matter). But his hasty shutting off to her, as if she no longer existed, was worse, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she read an article recently in one of those impulse-buy women’s mags that a man who stops communicating is a man who, at the bottom of things, simply wants out?

Oh, Dear God. Please no. No one deserves this. No one. We love each other. Of course we do. Then STOP this black-happy-you-know-what . She gets out of bed then, and not like some ninny, either: she tosses the feeble coverlet aside, hops out, stands at the foot of the bed, and crosses her arms. Robert Dovin, she says, I just pressed the pause button, and you’d better start explaining yourself. Talk to me. Tell me what the matter is – Tell me what’s happened!

Her voice is strident and anomalous in the quiet, dim room. I won’t put up with this any longer, Robert. Robert? ROBERT! There is a tinny popping sound, and she is suddenly back-lit from what she intuits are the shudders somehow unhinging themselves from across the room. Her shadow is abrupt and wraith-like over his bound figure, causing her to start. Something hisses behind her. She spins. Two things: the big window is still very much closed (when did they replace shudders with drapes?), and a small, flat-screen TV glows brightly high on the opposite wall. Snow, just plain old TV snow. Black lines flicker and disappear, flicker and disappear. THIS IS KBAT! The television suddenly blurts, and she spooks again. NEWS THAT’S NEW TO YOU! An up-tempo, no-nonsense melody follows, and she’s sure she will hear the leathery voice of Tom Brokaw or Dan Rather break in. The TV snow fades, and a news woman in a taut blazer with padded shoulders materializes behind a sleek, glass desk. She is also no-nonsense, this reporter, but there’s more here, something solemn and grave. WE COME TO YOU TONIGHT WITH TRAGIC NEWS FROM THE BEAUTIFUL ISLAND OF MAUI IN THE HAWAIIAN ARCHIPELAGO … “Maa … geee.” For the third time in as many minutes, breath catches in her throat. She turns and sees her husband staring up at her. His eyes are bloodshot marbles in the quicksilver light of the TV.

Bobby! Yes, it’s me, sweetie, Maggie. I love you so much – so, so much. Talk to me, sweetie. I lov – A HORRENDOUS SINGLE CAR ACCIDENT ON THE OTHERWISE TRANQUIL AND HISTORIC ROAD TO HANA … “Noo … Maaggg … I-I-sorrryyy …” Bobby, Luv, no, please don’t be. I thought you were mad at me, that I’d done something – THE RENTED AUDI CAREENED SOME SIXTY FEET DOWN AN EMBANKMENT INTO ONE OF THE PICTURESQUE POOLS THAT ARE A TOURIST … “Noo … ahh-gawd … MAGGGG – “ Without warning, her body heaves involuntarily and a squelching, gargling sound comes from deep within her. She coughs, wretches, and vomits up something long and mossy and cold. It hangs from her mouth like an impossible black tongue. Gagging, frantic, she pulls it from her mouth like some nightmare version of a minstrel clown.

AT THIS TIME AUTHORITIES BELIEVE ALCOHOL MAY HAVE PLAYED A ROLE IN THE ILL-FATED INCIDENT … She staggers back against wall, some sort of thin, waterlogged reed in her hand. She looks at it disbelievingly, detachedly, then to her husband, who is not looking at her, but rather at the small screen above her. Oh, no – was he ever looking at me? Weakly, wincing in bright, clear pain, and never taking his eyes off the screen, he props himself on one elbow. And now she can see: neck brace burrowed under his chin, twisted leg enclosed in a sort of oblong cage with rods penetrating its purple skin at different angles, bandages, bandages everywhere seeping with what she hopes is only iodine. And when his swollen lips part in a feeble attempt to speak, wires crisscross his broken teeth. “Ohhh … Maageee … peeez-no … donn-be-gon … I-luff … alllmyfall … done-be-dea – .” Before he can finish, her mouth snaps open again, and a torrent of gritty, ice cold water jets forth, gallons upon gallons, spanning the room, splashing against the far wall and the solitary door with its perfectly square glass window, and settling into shimmery pools on the pea-green linoleum floor. OFFICIALS REPORT TWO OCCUPANTS WERE IN THE VEHICLE AT THE TIME OF THE ACCIDENT, BUT, SADLY, ONLY ONE SURVIVED … Of course it’s linoleum , she thinks from some far off place. And we never replaced the shutters – tisk, tisk. And that blanket’s an ineffectual piece of crap because – AN AUTOMOBILE MECHANIC FROM KONA, HAWAII … -- we’re not at home at all. We’re in a hospital room somewhere on Maui … or at least half of us is. THE PASSENGER, WHO REMAINS UNIDENTIFIED AT THIS TIME BUT IS BELIEVED TO BE THE SPOUSE OF THE DRIVER, DID NOT SURVIVE THE INCIDENT. BACK TO YOU, BOB. The last thing that occurs to her, as that ethereal part begins its mystical undoing, and Robert Dovin – son to Belinda and Peter, brother to Dr. Cassandra McFadden, D.D.S, and father to no one – cries his wife’s name though his ruined mouth and reaches for the television, is that her husband is, finally, talking to her again.

END


Princess Aoi awoke from her deep sleep and stretched. She rose and walked toward the balcony where, only two weeks prior, she encountered the glowing orb that aided her in appreciation of life and the people she loved. Taking a deep breath of the dewy morning air, she headed to her wardrobe and got dressed for the day. She left her room and walked down the large corridors to her office, where she found Giles, Alyn, Leo, and Louis waiting for her. They bowed as she entered. The princess grew cautious at the unusual sight. “Is something wrong?" “Your Highness,” Giles began, “we have just received a letter detailing an official request from the King of Stein.” Princess Aoi’s eyes widened at Giles’ words. “He would like to meet with you and visit the palace.” Alyn sighed in frustration. “Not only that, but His Majesty King Byron also requests a tour of the castle town with the princess who’s a mere commoner.” Princess Aoi frowned at Alyn. “Was it phrased that way in the letter, or are you being sardonic, Alyn?” He looked away, a harsh expression on his face. “It was clearly implied," he huffed. "I don’t trust this at all." Leo looked at his twin brother and sighed. “I agree with Alyn that it is suspicious, but I don’t think His Majesty believes you’re incapable of upholding your duties to your country.” Louis stepped forward and spoke reassuringly. “It’s likely nothing to worry over, Your Highness.” “Although,” Giles cautioned, “it’s not a stretch to be wary of this request. Stein is still fairly secluded and has only recently began to sign trading contracts with neighboring countries. And only two weeks have passed since they opened their borders.” Giles lifted the letter from the princess’s desk and walked toward her. “Ours and Isharui are the only two countries which Stein has not opened its borders or engaged in trading agreements with.” Giles handed the paper to the princess and she began scanning its contents. “But why would he request a meeting with me?” Princess Aoi looked up from the letter at the men. “Why not our King? Wouldn’t that be more appropriate or beneficial for King Byron?” “Not quite,” Leo said, leading the princess to her desk. “You are now the ruler of our country, so it’s vital that you begin making important decisions in His Majesty’s place.” “Leo is correct,” Louis said. “And there may be more to this request than negotiating trading contracts.” Princess Aoi tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean?” “He means,” Alyn sighed, “that King Byron may be planning to propose a unification of our countries” “Since you two are closer in age than any other nearby rulers, it makes perfect sense. And after all, who could resist a smile like yours?” Leo’s suggestive tone made the princess blush in embarrassment. “Enough, Leo.” Alyn pulled his brother away from her desk by his collar. Leo shrugged at him. “If that is what the meeting is centered around, agreeing to Stein’s request to visit is entirely your decision, Your Highness.” Giles gave her a reassuring smile. “However, I believe he is only asking to discuss trading between our countries. What would you like to do?” Princess Aoi looked down at the request document and smiled. --- Princess Aoi stood by the gates with Alyn and Giles on either side and a handful of guards as the dark blue carriage came to a careful stop in front of them. A tall man in regal attire stepped out following his aide. Princess Aoi took a few steps toward him and curtsied, bowing her head low. “I welcome you, King Byron.” She met his steady gaze with a smile. “I am the ruler of this country, Princess Aoi.” King Byron’s aide stepped forward and bowed to her. “His Majesty is humbled that you graciously accepted his request to visit.” Giles moved to stand at the princess’s side and bowed before speaking to the King’s aide. “You are Captain Albert, are you not? His Majesty’s advisor and captain of Stein’s Royal Military?” “I am,” Albert said, placing a hand across his chest and bowing again to Giles and the princess. “We have a traditional dinner being prepared tonight, Your Majesty. Our country’s national dish, in fact.” King Byron nodded. Giles turned is gaze to the princess. “Your Highness, would you like to escort His Majesty into the palace?” “Of course,” she said, turning and motioning toward the palace behind the open gates. “If you would please follow me, Your Majesty.” The King nodded and fell into step behind the princess with Albert at his side. Alyn walked next to Princess Aoi protectively as they headed up the brick path. Upon entering, Giles guided King Byron and Albert upstairs to the rooms they would be using for the few days they would stay at the palace. Princess Aoi sighed and walked to her office, followed by Alyn. There were documents she and King Byron were to look over and discuss in their meeting the next day. Giles informed her earlier that the King would rest from the long journey until their dinner in the evening. She sat at her desk and began reviewing the trading documents once more, making sure every detail was correct and looking for any overlooked mistakes. Though she was well prepared, she still felt anxious. Alyn sighed next to her. “You’ve reviewed those at least a dozen times, Your Highness. You don't need to go over them again.” “Just one more document,” she said, picking up three. Alyn reached over and pulled them out of her hands. “You should go rest. You’ve had an exhausting past few days. Tonight’s meal won’t settle in your stomach well if you’re worn out.” She sighed at Alyn and reluctantly rose from her chair. She walked over to the windows and looked at the garden below, only to find King Byron carefully inspecting a bed of flowers at his feet. “Alright, Alyn. I’ll go take a walk.” Alyn nodded to her and watched as she quickly walked out the doors of her office. He shook his head once he couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore. “You’re already doing great, but you’re so unsure of yourself.” He sighed to himself as he walked toward the doors to leave the room. “Maybe King Byron will help you find the confidence you need.” --- Princess Aoi walked slower once she reached the garden grounds. She looked around and found that no guards or servants were present. King Byron had been looking at a large willow tree that sheltered a bench underneath it. The princess took a calming breath and walked towards the tall man. “This is quite a beautiful tree,” he said quietly in a deep, smooth voice. She looked up at him in shock. It was the first time the princess ever heard him speak. She turned to the old tree, still a more than respectful distance from the King. “It is.” Princess Aoi carefully walked to his side and looked up at the tree with him, only just then appreciating its beauty in a way she hadn’t before. She then looked up at King Byron’s features. He was a handsome man, only a few years older than herself, with striking dark blue eyes. He looked down to the bench under the tree and began walking toward it. As he sat down, he calmly gazed at her. The King gestured for her to sit on the bench next to him, and she approached, sitting on the bench hesitantly. “Your country is a beautiful sight.” Princess Aoi’s eyes widened, and she turned to look at King Byron. “I quite enjoyed the long trip from my castle.” She nodded. “I’m glad, Your Majesty.” The princess turned to face the garden in front of them. “I love this country very much. Hearing others speak of it in such a way is heartwarming.” King Byron glanced down at her. “I’ve heard that you are very knowledgeable of your citizens’ ways of life, and that has aided you in trading with other countries. You are aware of what is needed and what is not.” “I simply think of all the times where I visited the market before I was princess and remember what was lacking and what kept coming in excess. I’ve never thought of it in the way you explained it." She met his gentle gaze. "Thank you, Your Majesty.” He gave her a small smile. “Princess, you do not need to be so formal with me.” Princess Aoi stared at his smile for a second before looking down uncomfortably at the grass. She got the feeling that his smile was a rare sight. “I don’t understand what you mean by that,” she said quietly as she looked back up. “Allow me to rephrase.” He turned his body towards her and placed his gloved hand over his heart, bowing to the princess. “I formally request we call each other by our names instead of formal titles while we are alone.” He straightened, giving her a beautiful, gentle smile. “I want you to just address me as Byron, if you’ll allow me to address you as Aoi.” “What do you mean ‘while we are alone?’” “Well, I don’t believe Al and Giles will like it if we were to be so informal around them.” Aoi giggled with Byron at the thought of their advisors’ reactions. “Alright, Byron.” They sat in silence for a while, watching the garden and sky and equally appreciating the calm moments they knew they would not experience again for a long time in their busy lives. Suddenly, Aoi spotted a familiar light at the far end of the garden. She watched the glowing orb travel from the ground to the side of the palace, heading in the direction of the balcony outside her room. A thought occurred to her. “Byron, have you ever wished that you could know what it is like to be a citizen of your country instead of royalty?” He nodded. “Yes. I find it difficult to know the needs of my citizens and make decisions that will benefit them.” He let out a long, melancholy sigh. “I love my country and would do anything to protect and aid my citizens.” Aoi gave him a smile. “I feel that way too. Though I do have experience as a lower-class citizen, I still find it hard to know what is best for my country. I want to do my best for my citizens and will do everything in my power to keep them happy.” Byron nodded and gazed up at the willow tree. “I know many bureaucrats of this country oppose the princess system, especially when a citizen of the lower class is chosen.” He reached down to the grass and picked a small blue flower. “However, I think they are wrong.” Aoi stared at him in awe as Byron carefully reached over and tucked the flower behind her ear. “I have more respect for you than I do any ruler in the world. I believe a perspective like yours will cultivate a much happier country than a leader who only lived in luxury and knows nothing about their citizens’ needs.” She gave him a beautiful smile and he returned one that could almost rival hers. “Aoi, I am here to unofficially ask you for your guidance in making decisions for my country.” He stood and offered his hand to help her up. Aoi placed her hand gently in his and rose. “I’d be honored to help you, Byron.” They exited the shade of the willow tree and entered the sunlight illuminating the garden around them. As they walked the path to the palace, Albert approached them in a rush. King Byron’s smile disappeared. “Your Majesty, I’ve been looking for you,” he said with a bow. “There are items that need your attention, and we must get you ready for dinner this evening.” The King showed no emotion. “Very well, Al.” He nodded to Princess Aoi and she watched them walk away and enter the palace. “Your Highness,” Louis called as he walked across the courtyard to where the princess stood. Leo waved from Louis’s side. “How’d the King treat you while you were alone, Your Highness?” Leo wore a teasing grin. “Shut up, Leo. She’s anxious enough without your teasing.” Louis stopped in front of Princess Aoi and looked down sympathetically. “His Majesty didn’t say anything to upset you or make you uncomfortable, did he?” “No,” she said, shaking her head quickly, “nothing like that. His Majesty told me that the journey over here was nice and he thinks our country is beautiful.” Leo's eyebrows furrowed. “I suppose he’s saving important conversation for dinner and the tour around the town,” Leo pondered, folding his arms. “Or our previous suspicions are correct,” Louis whispered, “and His Majesty is-” Louis stopped speaking when he noticed the princess’s ear. “What is it, Louis?” “Your Highness,” Louis said quietly, “what did you two speak about, exactly?” She tilted her head in confusion. “Yeah, Your Highness,” Leo said, pointing at what he and Louis noticed with a smirk. “If it was only about his journey here and the scenery, then why is there a flower tucked behind your ear?” The princess’s eyes widened and her cheeks reddened. “It’s just a flower, nothing significant or worrisome,” she rambled. “Anyway, I need to get ready for tonight’s dinner, so if you'll both excuse me.” She rushed past the two men and hurried into the palace, heading in the direction of her room. Leo and Louis looked at each other with astonished expressions, then walked into the palace after her. --- Princess Aoi rushed the door closed when she entered her bedroom, breathing heavily from running through halls and up many staircases, desperately wanting to scold whoever gave her the farthest bedroom in the palace. The orb she noticed earlier was dancing around her room as she walked to her vanity to get ready. “I thought you only came around to grant wishes,” she said as she sat down before the mirror, watching the familiar gorgeous glowing man approach from behind. “Well, I couldn’t aid my newest client without coming to see my favorite,” he said with a mischievous grin. The princess turned around to face him. “Newest client?” “You haven't realized?” She shook her head. “A man wished he could marry the woman with the most beautiful smile." The princess blinked as he gestured to her. "I told you not to underestimate your smile, little one.” “You mean King Byron made that wish?” He nodded. “But what about the trial period? What did you take from him?” “I took what others deem most important about him.” The man’s smile dropped into serious expression. “He is the son of a tyrannical king. The most important thing his citizens believed about him was that he would rule the same way his father did.” “But he seems so kind,” the princess whispered. “He is truly kind. I never changed anything about him. I merely erased his citizen’s negative assumptions about his abilities and values. A blank canvas for his actions to paint on." “And no trail period?" “He said if he did a poor job, his citizens had every right to hate him. He wants them to form their opinions on his actions, not his father's.” The man smiled at Princess Aoi and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Now, I believe you are needed in the dining hall, Your Highness.” She stood and raced to her bedroom door. Just as she began to open it, the glowing man spoke up “Oh, Princess?” “Yes?” “Smile for me.” She gave the glowing man one last beautiful smile filled with gratitude and happiness. “Never underestimate your smile.” “Thank you,” she whispered before hurrying down the corridor. She stopped near the entrance to the dining room where Giles stood waiting with Alyn. Giles gave her a stern look of impatience. “Where did you run off to? His Majesty will be here any second.” Suddenly, Princess Aoi heard the doors from the opposite hallway open and she moved to stand next to Giles, facing King Byron as he entered the room with Albert. Giles bowed to the King as Albert bowed to the princess. “We thank you for joining us for this evening’s dinner, Your Majesty,” Giles said. “His Majesty was glad to accept the offer,” Albert said as he straightened. Giles gestured toward the dining hall. “Please, follow me.” Alyn opened the doors and bowed as they walked in. The table had been set ahead of time as usual, though the two settings weren’t at opposite ends. Instead, a certain meddling bureaucrat had the settings across from each other at one end of the table. Princess Aoi looked over her shoulder at an annoyed Giles and the bureaucrat outside the dining room. She watched Leo wink before walking away from his scowling brother who closed the doors on him. She let out a quiet laugh and turned forward when she realized that King Byron had noticed too. Giles and Albert kept their distance and stood near the door behind King Byron. As he and the princess sat across from each other at the same end of the long table, King Byron gave Princess Aoi a wink. She caught her breath, remembering the smile he showed her in the garden that was absent while others were around. They were silent as the formal dinner was presented and their plates were set in front of them. The servants bowed and stepped away. “I hope Your Highness will accept the trading contracts that Stein will be proposing during this visit,” he said, lightly emphasizing the word ‘proposing.’ Aoi smiled beautifully at Byron. “We’ll see.”


On an ordinary day; on an ordinary street; in an ordinary state; was an ordinary town with nothing out of the ordinary going on in it. There lived an ordinary man named Milton Magee. Milton Magee had an average build with; an average weight and height. His features were non-descript. The clothing and shoes he wore were plain and non-trendy. He owned a used, plain, dull blue Toyota Sentry which he drove everyday to his simple job as a toll booth attendant on I-76 North. Milton Magee was an only child to parents that had him late in life and had passed away 10 years ago. Milton Magee was not married, didn't have any friends (close or otherwise), didn't have a hobby, didn't smoke or drink, and owned no pets. Nothing stood out about him to anyone who saw him in passing. The apartment he lived in was ordinary. His furnishings were ordinary. He shopped for ordinary items he needed from the store. He watched ordinary shows on t.v. He didn't know how to dance, play a musical instrument, or speak a foreign language. No one would ever say things about him like outgoing, (though he was polite and mannerable when addressed) vibrant, flashy, loud, sporty, life of the party, (he was rarely invited to those anyway and never went when an invitation was extended to him), or just a cool guy. No Milton Magee was just...well...ordinary. Milton Magee's life held no surprises. His daily morning routine was simple and orderly. 7:00 a.m. An alarm sounded Milton Magee hit the snooze button for 5 extra minutes. 7:05 a.m. Milton Magee gets out of bed only half awake and still yawning....shuffles to the bathroom where he pees, flushes, washes his hands, removes his pajamas, gets in the shower, washes his hair, washes himself, he then gets out of the shower towel dries his hair and himself, brushes and flosses his teeth, combs his hair, then exits the bathroom; towel wrapped around his waist at precisely 7:35 a.m. 7:35 a.m. Milton Magee heads to the kitchen where he turns on his coffee maker, peels and eats a banana, while he waited for the coffee to begin brewing. Then he fries three strips of turkey bacon, scrambles two eggs, toasts and butters two slices of bread, pours the freshly brewed joe in a mug adding milk and sugar. Lastly he grabs a bottled water from the fridge to go with his breakfast. After he eats he cleans up all dishes used; disposes of any garbage; and wipes the counter and sink clean. 8:00 a.m. Milton Magee heads back to the bathroom to brush and floss his teeth again and splash on some cologne. 8:05 a.m. Finds Milton Magee taking his Navy blue short sleeve shirt (it's summertime now in the winter he brings out the long sleeves and packs away the short sleeves) and tan khakis out of his closet. He takes Navy blue socks from his sock drawer puts them on and finishes getting dressed. 8:10 a.m. Dressed now including his belt Milton Magee checks himself out in the mirror. Then he grabs his watch wallet phone keys and his work duffel bag. 8:15 a.m. After getting his lunch from the fridge (that he placed in a double insulated lunch bag the night before) he's out the door. He gives the door knob two twist to ensure it's securely locked. 8:20 a.m. Milton Magee pulls out of his parking lot and heads to work. 8:45 a.m. Milton Magee arrives at his assigned toll booth, parks, grabs his work duffel and lunch bags making his way inside his booth. He then fires up his P.C. 9:00 a.m. Milton Magee clocks in and settles and waits for the first car to come through his lane. It happens this way Monday through Friday every week. (Milton Magee is off on Saturdays and Sundays) No surprises, no deviations, simple and just....well....ordinary. On Wednesday, however, after Milton Magee completed his morning routine and waits for the first car to come through his lane; he noticed a new add on a billboard that sat on the opposite toll booths side. It said in bold lettering. ♤TIRED OF YOUR MUNDANE, DRAB, BORING, ORDINARY LIFE?♤ Then take a walk on the wildside with 8th Wall. The worlds largest and best virtual reality company. Our company is reknown for creating style, pizzaz, zing, fun, excitement. We bring to the world some of the most amazing incredible experiences that make life worth living. Do you want to ski on the French Alps, scuba dive in Tahiti, do the walk about in Australia, hunt seals in Alaska, bunji jump, parasail, sky, dive, visit Madagascar?... well 8th Wall brings you face to face with your imagination combined with cutting edge technology and immerses you in a feeling that is out of the ordinary and all from the comfort of your living room sofa. The message on the headliner ran a repeat loop...'Don't be ordinary be EXTRAORDINARY!' After Milton Magee saw that billboard add he began to feel something he could not quite explain; something he couldn't put his finger on. He felt different, off, not like himself, odd, weird, strange. He looks around him hoping for a clue as to what is happening; what is making him feel this way. He is somewhat annoyed, and a bit scared; because the way he is feeling is out of the ordinary for him. Milton Magee closes his eyes inhales a deep breath and exhales slowly. He does this continuously while counting to ten. He had to calm his nerves before traffic picked up. He opened his eyes to see four cars fast approaching his lane. Good, he thought, time to get busy. Traffic distracted him for awhile....but the feeling persisted....not only did it persist it grew and got stronger. His pulse raced. His face flushed. His palms sweated. His mind demanded an answer he did not have to give. The feeling continued as the day went on and in between the steady flow and lulls in traffic Milton Magee determined his present state was not good. He could not last too much longer like this. He knew if he wanted to stop the feeling once and for all; he had work to do. He must investigate and get down to the bottom of the dilemma he found himself in. Yes, he told himself, he would find out the cause of why he felt the strange feeling he was feeling and then come up with a plan to stop it. Milton Magee wanted his life be just as it had always been. Simple, orderly, no frills, no drama, no surprises, plain, and...just...well ordinary.


Imagine if someone asked you, “If you could choose any superpower, what would it be?”.    What would you choose?    I bet a dozen different things came to mind.    I know at least a few of you would probably say something like super-strength. Or the ability to fly. With how popular some of the big supers are, heroes like Cosmic Man or Power Woman, I know that’s probably first on a few lists. Big and powerful. Flashy. The epitome of what you picture when you think “superhero”.    Still, maybe you’re rethinking that choice. Or maybe you had something else in mind. Maybe you even gave more than a knee-jerk response.    What else did you come up with?    Was it invisibility? The ability to hide from sight. To do whatever you want without worrying about being seen. Not very heroic of you, but still certainly superhuman. What about the ability to breathe fire? Would sure make cosplaying as a dragon fun. Or perhaps you chose something contrarian like “Money” just because you’re a fan of the playboy philanthropists with a penchant for justice and vigilantism.    It’s funny. For a lot of people, they don’t think of the ability to manipulate time as being very high on that list.    Until you mention it.    “Gee, that sounds like a great power.” You’re probably thinking. “Why didn’t I think about that?”    I wondered for a long time why nobody thought of time manipulation as a superpower. It just seemed obvious to me, but I guess it’s because I was born with it. A lot of people just take time for granted, I suppose. Everything exists within time. Everything is held by its laws. In a way, it’s easier to forget that it’s there. Now, though, I think it’s because some deep part of the universe knows better than to let too many people go mucking about with the very fabric holding everything together.    It’s better if people didn’t mess with it.    Now, don’t get me wrong, there are one or two comics out there that talk about the idea of a hero with the ability to manipulate time. But of all the big licensed supers out there fighting bad guys in the streets, not one of them has that power. You would sooner see a six-year-old fighting a t-rex with a tanker truck than you would see someone stop time.    Why is that?    I learned early on that the first reason is just because a lot of people can’t even conceptualize what we’re doing when we’re using our powers. Time manipulation is so outside of the scope of proper existence that, when it’s seen, people don’t even know they’re seeing it. There are a few different kinds of T.M.’s, that’s short for Time Manipulators, people like me that can alter the flow of time in the universe. But all of them are generally misunderstood for something else.    Take me for example: I can stop time. But what do you think that looks like to some guy watching? That’s right, it looks like I just moved super fast. So they just generally think I’m a speedster or something like that.    Easy, right?    Well, what about those who can move forward or backward in time? Same thing. If they move forward enough that they can be seen, provided the whole spatial issue, then POP, it looks like they just teleported. So someone thinks it’s a teleportation power. And going backward in time? Same thing, albeit with odd accents and money you’ve never seen.    The only thing I think could ever stand out for what it would be is if a T.M. was able to specifically mess with the age of a given object, but I’ve never seen one of us manage that. I’m sure it’s theoretically possible, but either it’s incredibly rare or you need to live long enough to develop it, and none of us have pulled that off.    That brings me nicely to the second problem with messing with time and why you don’t see many of us: it’s fucking dangerous. Simply put, despite T.M.’s showing up at about the same rate as other supers, we just don’t have a long shelf-life.    I mentioned earlier the “spatial issue”. While I’ve personally never dealt with it, an old buddy of mine explained it to me before he died. In short, while a lot of T.M.’s can manipulate time, the universe is made up of both time and space. Basic physics kind of stuff. But those basic physics make a big difference when you travel in time because there’s a fair chance that the planet you’re on won’t exist beneath your feet if you go too far backward or ahead. With very few exceptions, most T.M.’s couldn’t do anything about that and so any jumps they made had to be in weird, quick intervals to avoid leaving the Earth behind.    Space is pretty fucking cold and you can’t breathe out there.    Unfortunately, though, for someone like me with the ability to stop time, not breathing is also a big issue. As a kid, I remember seeing a bunch of comics about how cool it would be to stop time, to run around without anyone moving or even knowing what was going on, but those stories never took into account the fact that when you stop time, more than just people are frozen. And I don’t mean plants or animals or bugs or anything like that.    Like I said earlier, everything in the universe is bound to time.    You’ve heard of the speed of light, right? Maybe you haven’t thought of it too much, but speed implies movement. A lightyear is the speed of light measured against time. So naturally, if you stop time, you stop light.    Do you know what else requires time to move around?    Air.    Oxygen. Nitrogen. Hydrogen. All those little particles that make up our ability to breathe. To survive. All of those are just as dictated by time as the rest of us. And if they aren’t moving. You aren’t breathing them.    Even worse than that, if they aren’t moving, then you aren’t moving.    Yet again, if time isn’t moving, then none of those little particles are. Fully stopping time is like locking yourself in a prison of darkness, unable to move any part of your body. My mom and dad thought they were night terrors when I was a kid. Turned out it was just my superpower developing and no one understanding that the “sleep paralysis” that wore off after I passed out was me accidentally locking myself in that prison.    Who knew I’d put myself back in it willingly?    To be fair, I figured out what it was years ago and I haven’t used a full time-stop again until today. Normally I do what I call “Extreme Slo-mo”. You slow down time just enough so that you’ve still got photons bouncing around and the particles in the air can move around. It’s like moving through beef stew, and you still can’t breathe, but it lets me do my job and save people. It also comes with the cool side effect of making these big explosions when I move through a lot of space because it displaces all the air super fast. Everyone thinks I’m a speedster because of it, and I guess for a long time I was happy to just accept that.    Until today.    Man, everything was going great today. It was supposed to be nice and easy. Just go grab some shmuck that had taken some hostages. My friends and I had dealt with similar stuff a hundred times over since we became supers five years ago.    Why the fuck did he have a nuke?    Maybe if I was a speedster, I could have done something. At the very least, maybe I could have gotten away. I wouldn’t just be sitting here waiting for my body to give up and pass out. It’s already been three minutes since I locked myself in my little time prison. It’s pretty impressive I haven’t blacked out already.    Okay, maybe I’m being pedantic. I don’t have any light and I haven’t since that bastard set off the bomb.    I just wish I had realized what he was doing. Wish I had been proactive and not only been able to react. He’d already pressed the button. Already primed it to go off. He had never intended to get out of there. He just wanted to take some supers with him and used the hostages to do it.    I just wish I had a chance to do it over again.    Who knows, maybe I can figure out how to.    I’ve got all the time in the world.


The little town of New Evergreen was a haven for those who enjoyed the spirit of Christmas. Among the snowy hills and bright lights, it displayed a charm that made every day feel like a holiday. The Jackson family, known for their everlasting spirit for the Christmas season, were the heart and soul of the community. Every year, they hosted a huge Christmas party that had become the main event of New Evergreen's winter. The wait for this year's celebration was intense, as whispers of the Jacksons' plans spread through the town like a raging wildfire. As the sun fell below the horizon on Christmas Eve, the Jackson estate began to shine with the glow of a thousand lights. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked gingerbread cookies, and the sound of laughter from within the decorated halls. Friends and neighbors, in their festive clothing, made their way to the Jackson mansion, eager to participate in the celebration. Inside the mansion, the atmosphere was magical. Each room was covered with lights and ornaments. A beautiful Christmas tree stood tall in the grand hall, covered with a variety of ornaments. It was worth the wait to see the marvelous tree.

The festivities started with a great feast. Tables filled with all sorts of food—turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, and vegetables. The dining room was filled with the sounds of clinking wine glasses, and laughter. The Jackson family, in matching Christmas sweaters and hats, talked among the guests, ensuring everyone felt the warmth of Christmas. As the clock struck eight, the party transitioned into a dance. The spacious dance floor became lively with couples, their movements synced to the rhythm of classic holiday tunes. The air was electric, with the spirit of Christmas in every step.

However, inside the celebrations, a subtle movement of uncertainty began to make its way through the festivities. The brilliant Christmas tree, standing tall and bright in the middle of the grand hall, began to show signs of falling. A gasp rippled through the room as the towering tree swayed ominously, and ornaments fell to the floor.

Chaos ensued as the guests tried to steady the tree and save the ornaments. The dance floor transformed into a chaotic scene as the news spread. The Jackson family, known to face unexpected challenges, attempted to reassure the guests, with smiles and jokes, trying to bring back the festive spirit. As the now bad spirit cast a shadow over the celebration, an unexpected guest made an entrance. A mysterious figure, covered in a shimmering robe, appeared in the center of the room. The world seemed to freeze, as everyone turned and stared at the appearance of the guest. With a wave of the figure's hand, a warm glow took over the room. The fallen ornaments magically lifted themselves from the floor, hanging back on the tree as if being pickede up. The once bare tree now stood tal, radiating a glow that refilled the Christmas spirit. The mysterious guest revealed himself to be the Spirit of Christmas, a magical force there to ensure that the spirit of the season remained intact. With a twinkle in his eye and a voice like a soothing melody, the Spirit of Christmas addressed the gathering. "Fear not, as the Spirit Of Christmas is here! Ho Ho Ho!" After that, the Spirit of Christmas continued to spread his holiday magic through the party. The mess caused by the previous chaos was all cleaned up. The Spirit Of Christmas moved around the party, playing games and telling jokes. After a rough patch, the Christmas spirit had finally returned to the party, as everyone laughed and played. The party had been saved by the magical spirit. The dance floor, formerly a scene of chaos, now became a stage for jolly couples. Couples twirled and swirled with newfound energy, and the music fit perfectly with the mood of the guests. The Spirit of Christmas moved gracefully among the guests, bestowing his blessings of joy. As the night unfolded, it had slowly became very apparent that the unexpected twists and turns had turned the festive party into a magical celebration for everyone. The holiday magic had not just saved the almost ruined evening but had elevated it to be much better than it was before. The guests, initially scared by the unexplained and mood ruining occurrences, now embraced the newfound enchantment, eventually realizing that sometimes the most memorable moments come from the unexpected. The Jackson family, gracious and smart, took the lead in embracing the magical turn of events, playing into the twists and having the times of their lives. They shared stories of past holiday accidents, turning potential embarrassment into laughter and fun. The spilled cranberry sauce earlier in the night had become a story of shared laughter, and the tilted Christmas tree and fallen ornaments became a case to the resilience of the festive spirit. As the night drew to a close, the Spirit of Christmas said his goodbyes and bid farewell, his majestic robe disappearing into the air. The guests, still mesmerized by the enchantment of the evening, exchanged heartfelt laughter and expressions of gratitude and thanks. The Jackson mansion, almost fully chaotic and ruined by some odd occurances, now stood as a house of warmth and unity, lit by the glow of holiday magic. The tale of the festive party gone wrong but saved by holiday magic became a festive legend in the town of New Evergreen. It was retold with laughter in the eyes and a light and grateful heart, a reminder that the true magic of Christmas lies not just in planned parties and festivities but in the shared moments of joy, spirit , and enchanting surprises that tie us together to create unforgettable memories. The holiday season in New Evergreen would forever be marked by the year when the Spirit of Christmas graced the Jackson party, turning a potential disaster into a celebration that went over the ordinary and embraced the extraordinary magic of the season.


The cabin was eerily quiet despite how crowded it was, but this was typical for divinings. The silence seemed to seep in through the big bay windows as if the stillness of space muffled anything that anyone might want to say. But the truth is, they didn’t want to say anything. They were there to bear witness. They just wanted to see if maybe this would be the historic divining. The last one. There was a quiet, religious reverence to the room as Ludwig approached the sphere which sat elevated near the captain’s station. No one looked directly at Ludwig, their attention was all placed on the sphere. Ludwig resented them for that.

He stood in front of the bright white sphere. It sat on a pedestal, elevated to about chest height, and sat in a latticework bowl of metal probes which came halfway up the sides of the sphere. It looked like an enormous pearl, encased inside some great robotic clam. The top of the pearl was exposed and Ludwig placed his hand on it. It rolled smoothly, the unseen ball bearings hidden in the bowl below giving its movement a frictionless feel. Let’s get this over with . He reached into his pocket and pulled out his black divining glove, placing it on his right hand. It covered just his thumb, and middle and index fingers in a thin black velvet. On the tip of his index finger was a small metallic nub. Here goes literally nothing. Ludwig placed his hand back on the sphere and gave it a hard, twisting spin. The ball bearings made a small whirring noise as the sphere rapidly spun in a chaotic direction. He heard a sharp intake as several nearby watchers held their breath. He placed his three gloved fingertips lightly on the surface of the sphere. He could feel it spin underneath the soft velvet. It was still spinning very fast. Part of him wanted to see how long he could get away with waiting here. Let the people who had taken those big gulps begin to struggle, waiting for him to make a choice to release that breath. What if he never made a choice? The sphere could probably spin for a long time, for how long he didn’t know, but likely longer than their breath would hold out. Let them suffocate on their superstition. With his fingers still gently placed on the spinning globe, he looked up into the room. Everyone was still staring at the spinning sphere. Except one. In the back of the room, Ludwig noticed Aunty Gemma standing, wearing her regular dirty overalls. She was looking not at the sphere, but at his face. As they made eye contact she smiled, and gave a slight nod to the device in front of him. Do the job , the nod said. Ludwig closed his eyes, waited a moment, and pushed down on the sphere with his thumb and middle finger. The sphere came to a halting stop, and Ludwig heard the held breath release once more. With eyes still closed, Ludwig swirled the tip of his index finger across the surface of the ball.

Where? He asked, but as always, his prayer remained unanswered. Finally, with nothing left to do but act, he opened his eyes and pressed down with his index finger. “There, I guess.” The screens around the room lit up, showing a model of their ship, floating in empty space. After a moment, an arrow appeared, originating from the Mellifera and pointing down and to the right at an oblique angle. This was the vector Ludwig had chosen for this month. Immediately, the silent spell was broken and people around the room began talking in excited voices. Ludwig could hear the captain begin barking orders, telling crew members to initiate travel towards the new heading, and those not a part of the crew to leave the bridge. As people began to file out, a woman approached him. “God bless you, Ludwig, for what you do for us,” said Adelaide, the head chef and one of the oldest women on the ship. She always smelled like celery and Ludwig tried his best to avoid her when in the mess hall. “Thanks.” Ludwig kept his head down to conceal the grimace he felt rising there. His stomach tumbled with guilt, frustration. “But I haven’t actually done anything.” “Why of course you have, Ludwig,” she said. “I’m old enough to remember what it was like before your father was born, before we had our first Diviner. Things were much more difficult then, never knowing where we were going. But with your father, and you now, well I have hope we might find land yet, before I pass on.” As if on cue, Ludwig felt a hand clasp his shoulder and looked to see his father standing there. A broad man, Karl dwarfed his son. It was easy to see why he was so respected. He was an imposing figure. Karl smiled at the old woman. “Another step closer. Isn’t that right, Adelaide?” “Another step closer,” she repeated, smiling. The captain issued another series of commands, ordering any stragglers out of the room. Adelaide gave a nod to each of them and exited. Karl and Ludwig followed shortly thereafter, the father’s mighty hand still clasped heavily onto the boy’s shoulder, steering him down the hallway. “Excellent work, son. I feel really good about today. I think we’re getting much closer.” Ludwig’s father smiled at the other shipmates as they passed, beaming with obvious pride for his son.

“Shouldn’t be much longer yet, I figure. Any month now.” Ludwig could feel himself shrinking under the weight of his father’s hand and the looks of those they passed. The pressure continued to build until finally, when they reached an empty corridor, Ludwig shrugged off his father’s hand and turned to face him. “But it’s all bullshit!”

His father turned slowly. “Now, what do you mean by that Ludwig?” He asked. “That I haven’t a damn clue what I’m doing up there? I just pick a spot at random. I don’t actually know where any habitable planets are. And I don’t think you did either. I’m just guessing. I’m sure if we tried using the ship’s sensors, or thinking about it a bit more, we’d come up with something better than this nonsense.” Karl grabbed the boy by both shoulders, his grip now both forceful and fatherly. “Son, we’ve tried that. For generations, before you or I were born, our people have been floating around on this ship, using the sensors and the science they’d been taught. And look where it got us.”

A young couple walked past and waved towards the two of them. Karl smiled brightly at them, waiting until they had passed around the corner and out of sight before continuing. “The truth is, the science was never good in the first place. They sent the first shuttles out and told them to find a new Earth, that our old one was broken, except they didn’t give them the right tools to do it. And so our people have been out here a long while, son. Trying to find somewhere. Gemma keeps us fed as best she can, but that farm won’t last forever. That’s why they need us. Why they need you, Ludwig. We’ve got the right tools to finally find something.” “But, I’m literally choosing at random. I don’t know anything. I don’t feel anything. At all.” “I know it can feel that way sometimes, son.” Karl rubbed his hands up and down the boy’s shoulders. “I felt that way too, even just before we found that first exoplanet. Back when you were a boy, do you remember? And that one was nearly habitable. Do you remember it?” “Yes,” Ludwig said, shrinking again against his father’s intensity. “I remember.” “Then you see. It works. We just need to give it time. I had a touch of the gift. Of the old ways. But then you were born and I could see it. We all could. You have the gift. Every turn you have us take is one that brings us to salvation.” Karl gave a light shake to his son’s shoulders, indicating that the conversation was over. The two of them walked together to the mess hall and joined the rest of the colony for dinner. When they entered the hall, Adelaide made a big fuss, insisting they come sit at her table. “Make way for the Diviner.” ***** By the end of that month, the Mellifera still had not found any planets, let alone any suitably livable ones. This meant another divining and despite his conversation with Karl, Ludwig found himself even less inclined to go along with the charade. What did any of it matter, anyway? When he went to divine, he did his best to make a mockery of it. He put the glove on wrong, and made the selection with his pinky. His father stood in the back of the crowd with his arms crossed, but after the ceremony was over said nothing. Again, the month passed without discovery. And another. On and on the months went, as Ludwig found stranger ways to subvert the divining.

He spoke to the sphere, requesting it to tell him where it wanted to be poked. He asked members of the audience where they thought he should point. He tried using his foot. All the while he watched as the peoples’ faces grew concerned. As though they knew that something wasn’t right, but didn’t know what to say. When the next month came, Ludwig found he didn’t have the energy to play his game any longer. When he stood at the podium, he moved the sphere only a small fraction before plunking his index finger down near the same spot. “There.” The usual silence was overtaken by an uncomfortable one. Divinings were supposed to take longer than this. “Are you sure?” A voice called out from the crowd. “Yep,” Ludwig said, already retreating from the podium and heading towards the door.

“I’m sure of it.” He had made it halfway down the hall when he felt an arm link into his. He turned, expecting to see his father, and was surprised to see Aunt Gemma. “Come with me, Ludwig. I think we need to talk.” She guided them through empty halls until they reached the door to the Farm. Aunt Gemma was in charge of all agriculture onboard Mellifera , and so was allowed to freely enter and exit. The rest of the colony required special approval to enter. Gemma entered a passcode in a small terminal near the door. It opened and they stepped inside. Ludwig had visited the Farm a handful of times as a child, and again later during agricultural classes, but still he was struck by how green everything was. In a ship full of grays and browns, with windows pointing out to a limitless black, the green in here was so vibrant it was overwhelming. Towering, leafy plants touched the ceiling, the leaves hanging down to brush the top of Ludwig’s head. To his right was a large section of crops, green plants that came nearly up to his neck, and on them hung numerous, heavy tubers. Modified potatoes. These he was overly familiar with from the mess hall. Gemma led him further into the Farm, through a section full of large, multi-coloured flowers. The flowers grew up to his waist in places, in colours and shapes he hadn’t known were possible. “You seem to be having troubles lately. With the divining. Is that right?” She cocked an eyebrow at Ludwig. “Yeah,” he said, unsure of how much to say. He’d only ever talked about this with his father, and that hadn’t gone well. And yet, he felt compelled to continue. “It’s just bogus. I mean, you’re a scientist Auntie. You have to know that. I’m not special. I don’t have some magical ability to sniff out planets. I’m no Diviner.” The older woman paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Farmer.” She said. “I’m a farmer. And I don’t know much about space travel. Or divining. I mostly just know about gardening. Plants and animals.” Something caught her eye and she bent down to the flowers below, indicating to Ludwig to do the same. She pointed to a bright pink flower nearby. A fat little honeybee wandered across its petals, zig-zagging its way closer to the centre. Bees were one of the few animals maintained aboard the ship, and from his childhood visits Ludwig knew they were essential to the running of the farm. “Did you know that honeybees dance?” Gemma asked. “Maybe,” Ludwig replied. “I remember learning something like that in agro classes.” “Well they do dance. Waggle dancing, it’s called. People used to think the bees did it for fun. When a bee felt joyous, or wanted to celebrate, it would do a little dance. Well, eventually scientists figured out that when a foraging honeybee finds a particularly good flower patch, it will go back to the hive and dance. And that dance tells the other bees about the patch. Where it is, how to find it. How far to go. And the other bees, well they would listen to the dance, and they would follow.” “That’s interesting,” Ludwig said honestly, assuming that a point to all this was forthcoming. Gemma remained silent, squatting with her elbows on her knees, watching the bee for a while before continuing. “What I guess I mean to say is, even if it didn’t look like the dancing was doing much, it mattered to the bee. And,” she looked directly at Ludwig, “It stands to reason that there weren’t always bees. So at one point there must have been a first bee. And how do you think that first bee learned to dance?” She stood up and brushed her hands off on her overalls. “Come on, let me show you the hive.” ***** The next month concluded, and it was time again for a divining ceremony. The morning of, Ludwig found himself approaching things differently. He smiled to the others as they walked to the bridge. He felt an energy coursing through him. Buzzing , he thought to himself and laughed. A readiness. Perhaps there was something to this.

As he stood on the podium, he noticed trepidation in the faces of many in attendance. He realized how badly it hurt them when he made a mockery of things. A feeling of guilt rose up at the back of his throat, but he swallowed it, channeling it into focus. Today would be different. Once he had donned the glove he spun the sphere viciously, placing his fingertips just slightly on its spinning surface. Closing his eyes, he let the feeling consume him, felt his body begin to move and gyrate however it wished. Whatever felt natural. At first it felt awkward but as he began to give himself away to the process, letting his body take over, he forgot even that he was being watched. Suddenly he felt a spark, some twitch of energy in his left foot. He felt it rise up through his leg, fill his body with a white hot heat, before arcing out down his arm and into his outstretched finger, pressing it down onto the sphere and stopping its spin. “There. I am certain.” He opened his eyes and saw the crowd, awestruck and open-mouthed in the moment before they burst into jubilation. They felt it too. It had worked this time. The next few days were electric. Each day, Ludwig awoke, waiting for news of land. In the mess hall, people talked in excited whispers of what they would do first when they landed on the new planet. It made Ludwig happy to here these whispers. On the fifteenth day after the divining ceremony, an alert rang through the corridors of the ship.

“ Possible exoplanet detected. Arrival T-6 hours. ” Ludwig, along with the rest of the colony, rushed to the bridge. They chattered excitedly, their noise spilling out of the room, down the hall and out the windows to fill the space around the ship. This ship had finally completed its mission. These people, born in the harsh confines of the ship, had finally found a home. At last a small blip appeared through the central window, growing larger by the second. The new planet. Raucous cheers went up around the room. Someone had opened several bottles of wine, which were being passed around joyously. As the object grew closer, Ludwig pressed his face against the glass to get a closer look. He began to see forms on the planet. Swaths of blue and green. Closer now, he saw a painter’s swipe of grey. Mixed in with the green now, he saw red. Red fire, eating up the green. And around the planet, a haze of small metallic grey objects floated. Now they were close enough that he could take in the planet in its entirety. As the room began to quiet, he heard a sob escape from someone nearby. “No, it can’t be! There was no denying it however. They’d all seen it in pictures before. Earth. They’d found their way home.