I met her at the cafe on the corner. I was waiting at the back of the queue, seventh in line. She was at the counter scanning the board wondering which coffee to choose. It can be a problem, there are twenty-five different coffees on offer – Espresso, Latte, Americano, Red Eye, Black Eye, and Flat White to name a few – it’s not always an easy choice. I don’t have that problem myself because I always order the same – the cheapest, biggest, hottest drink up there – double latte (two shots of espresso with steaming milk). What I’m looking for is something that takes a while to drink. I’m not fussy about the taste, I’m not a connoisseur, just so long as it’s hot so it takes a while to cool down. I can take an hour over the same coffee. I get my money’s worth. She was holding up the queue and the guy behind the counter was getting impatient – as were the other customers. She couldn’t make up her mind so she stood to one side and let the next customer get served. She was still undecided by the time I got to the counter. I ordered two double lattes, paid the bill, and when they were ready I handed one to her.  “Save you from having to choose,” I said with a grin. She was so grateful that she agreed, without hesitation I add, to come and sit with me. Marianne: twenty-eight years old, pretty as a picture, and nearly twenty years younger than me – and I’d picked her up without any smart-ass pick-up line, just a nice gesture and the help she needed at just the right time. We talked for two hours, ordered more coffees – my treat – and discovered we had a lot in common: the films we like, the books we read, our view of the world, our morals and political preferences… A match made in heaven, though we both agreed heaven didn’t exist. The only inconsistency was in our decision-making abilities. I leaned definitely towards “impulsive”, always have. Never thought of why, it just works for me and saves a lot of time and trouble. Maybe it was just practice – over the years I built up a strong sense of intuition that I could trust. I made decisions on the spot and, as it turned out, few had any serious consequences. So I learned not to worry about consequences, and anyway, I had the mindset that believed there’s something to be gained no matter what you choose – it’s a matter of perception whether something is good or bad and I always sought the good in things. And if I ever encountered a difficult choice I just flipped a coin in my head and went with it. Marianne was my polar opposite. She told me she’d always had difficulty making decisions. She also saw the good in everything but that was what made it so difficult, she said, and she’d made some bad decisions in the past – relationships and jobs mostly – and that made her so insecure that it affected even simple decision-making, like choosing what to wear that day, where to go walking, which coffee to order… When it was time for me to leave – which I would have chosen not to but I had another appointment – I gave her my number and said I’d like to keep in touch, but I was leaving the decision up to her. She said she’d think about it. “Or toss a coin,” I said, and she laughed. It was a week later that I got her call. I picked her up and took her to the sea. It was the middle of December and blustery – all raging surf and salty spray. We strolled up the beach, two lovers-in-the-making, close but separated, reading each other sentence by sentence, testing familiarity with flirty remarks and elbow-nudges… walking back down we were already holding hands. I kissed her by the car and she didn’t resist. We shared side-glances and smiles on the way home. I invited her to my place for dinner, she accepted and ended up staying the night. We dated for a year before I asked her to marry me. That’s the longest I’ve ever taken to decide on something, not because I was unsure – I could have easily asked her after that first walk on the beach – but I was truly afraid of the consequences if she’d said no. As it turned out she said yes, and we were married the following spring. Life was easy and fun – we fitted each other like the wedding rings on our fingers. I made all the big decisions in the beginning: new house, what to cook and eat, where to go on holidays, which restaurants, bars, museums, galleries, and shows to visit, channels to watch on tv, Christmas and birthday gifts to buy for relatives and friends. Our circle of friends dwindled as we spent more and more time in our own company – we kept it to a select few and didn’t socialize much, which suited me fine because I was getting too old for galavanting, and she was just relieved not to have to keep choosing what to wear, and when we did go out she’d actually ask me what she should wear and she wouldn’t question my preferences. It sounds like it could have been a recipe for disaster, like she was handing over her independence to me, and if I’d been a control-freak it may have turned out that way… but I’m not. It was easy for me to make decisions so it didn’t trouble me, and over time she got to understand my mindset and learned to adopt it in a way, learned to be more nonchalant about choices and outcomes. I’d give her little decision-assignments from time to time – it was a game, I’d give her a selection of choices regarding something and she had thirty seconds to make a decision, then we’d follow through regardless. Eventually, she got comfortable with it, becoming almost as impulsive as me. It was the morning of her thirty-third birthday when she said it. I was shaving and she was standing by the door watching, her reflection smiling at me in the mirror. “Checking out my ass again?” I quipped. “I want a baby,” she said. Out of the blue. I nearly sliced my face off with the razor I was so surprised. Maybe I should have seen it coming, she was at that age after all, but I didn’t – we’d never discussed babies before. I dabbed my bleeding face with a towel and turned to face her. “Where did that come from,” I asked. “You been thinking about it a long time?” “No, just came to me.” “A bit impulsive isn’t it? Even for you these days. I mean, a baby is a big, big decision.” “I know but I’m listening to my intuition just like you taught me and I’m certain it’s a good idea. What’s wrong, you don’t think so?” “No… I mean… yes, of course, it’s a good idea. You just took me by surprise that’s all.” She came up to me then, still smiling. Took the towel from me and started patting my wound clean. “Hope you’re not getting too insecure in your old age,” she said. “Come on back to bed, I want to start right now.” Old? Was I getting old? Was I getting scared of consequences? I don’t know. But I couldn’t decide right then if I wanted to be a father or not. I followed her to the bed and we made love, and for the first time, I admit my mind wasn’t entirely focussed on her or the activity. She didn’t seem to notice though – obviously I wasn’t yet too old to still please her. We tried for two months but nothing was happening. On a spur decision, we decided to check if there was anything wrong with either of us. We made an appointment with a physician but when we got to the clinic she paused outside the door. “I’m not sure I want to do this,” she said. “Why not?” “I don’t think I want to know. Suppose we find out that one of us is infertile… what then? “Then we deal with it, the way we deal with all consequences. Trust me, it’ll be fine.” I could see she was still hesitant but she agreed to the test when I reminded her that we wouldn’t get the results right away – we could always choose not to know later. The results came in the post a week later. The envelope still lay unopened on the table after another week. And another week. And another. Each time I mentioned it she shook her head saying she wasn’t ready to know. I left the decision up to her – possibly the hardest decision of her life, but I couldn’t make it for her. I would have been happy regardless. I told her if I was the problem she could always get impregnated by a donor and I’d go along with any choice she made because I loved her and I would love the child whether it was my own or not. “But if I’m the problem?” she asked. “Then we adopt. Simple.” She thought about that for another week and suddenly the envelope was gone from the table. She said she’d put it away, unopened. Decided conclusively that she didn’t want to know. Told me she loved me and wanted my baby and no other and if it wasn’t destined to be then so be it. We didn’t talk about it again. We still made love unprotected though, and often, pushing destiny to the limit you could say. Life went on. Five years passed. Everything was fine. I thought. Until I came home one day to find her sitting at the table, eyes red from crying, the envelope open before her. “I needed to know,” she said. “I’m sorry… I needed to know.” I read the results. I was the problem – some hereditary genetical condition, unlikely to improve with treatment given my age. I took her in my arms and she wept on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she kept saying. “Don’t be,” I said, “it’s not the end of the world.” But it was the start of the end… for me at least. We didn’t make love that night. Over the following months, she became moody and distant. I tried everything to cheer her up. I couldn’t mention anything to do with babies though without her tearing up. She lost interest in all the fun things we used to do together. She stopped caring. She stopped wanting. I was running both our lives, making all the decisions again. It wasn’t as easy as before though – I was starting to worry about consequences. She left without notice. I came home to an empty house, empty dresser, empty wardrobe – all trace of her gone. A short note on my pillow saying: “I’m sorry!” and nothing else. I collapsed onto the empty bed and lay there for three days, weeping until there were no more tears to weep. My heart was a black, cold stone in my chest. My mind was a bottomless pit of sorrowful bleakness. A month has passed. I haven’t worked, I haven’t answered any calls or responded to the mountain of messages on my phone. I haven’t left the house once. The food cupboards are almost empty, the sink is full, the house is a dump of strewn clothes and empty beer cans and wine bottles. I sit like an oversized, bearded rag-doll in an armchair across from the window, staring out at a grey sky. Grey has become my colour through and through. I stink. I know I stink because I can smell it myself. I need to wash but I can’t be bothered. I know I should do something soon – get up, clean up, get my life together – but I’ve lost all motivation. I don’t know what’s important anymore. I can’t decide if anything is. I can’t even decide if I should be angry, or sad, or disappointed, or hurt. I don’t feel anything anymore. The flame of life within me has gone out and I don’t know how to light it again. I don't know if I want to. In the past, whenever I felt down or indecisive about something, I’d take a walk. A walk always brought clarity – an answer, an idea, a decision. Simple. Maybe I should take a walk. But that would mean deciding to get up and go out. I don’t want to make any decisions. I don’t want to think. I would start thinking about her. I’m lost. I’m scared. Of life. Of myself. I can’t see the good anymore, only pain and suffering and emptiness, and I’m scared to confront it. I don’t want to confront it. The sky is getting darker. It looks like rain. Walking in the rain would just add to my misery – or wash it away. I can’t decide. I could flip a coin – another decision I don’t want to make. I want someone to make it for me. I decided a long time ago that God doesn’t exist but I find myself praying now – not for guidance or forgiveness but for a decision. I stare out at the sky. “Please God…” I cry aloud, “make it rain.”


Raylyre - pronounced - Ray-Ly-Re Onyxixs - pronounced - Onyx-sis ----- The city was alive with the hustle and bustle of thousands of people and cars, going about their daily business. The shadow of the tree danced across the grass, the wind blowing softly, carrying the sound of the park. Chains rattled as wings stretched, the pristine white feathers glittering in the light drifting through the leaves. "It's far too bright out here for my liking," a deep voice grumbled, crouching back further into the tree trunk for shade. "I want to go back home." "Pipe down, Onyxixs," angel muttered, spinning his halo around his finger. "Just enjoy the moment." "Listen up, featherbrain," Onyxix growled, fangs reviled with a angry snarl. "You may have come from a bright and cheerful world, but where I came from was dark and, contrary to popular belief, rather quiet. So I hope your "Dear Lord" can forgive my annoyance of such matters I deem my own personal opinion." "Raylyre. Onyxixs. Stop fighting will you?" The human man muttered, the arm covering his eyes moved down so he could glare at the beings. "I have a headache enough as it is, and I don't need the two of you arguing to top it off." Raphael huffed, but complied. His long blonde hair was left loose to blow in the wind and caress his tanned skin, his red eyes staring off into space. The halo that hovered over his head glowing and faintly crackling with power. The large white wings that grew from his back fluttered in annoyance, the chains that were locked around their bases clinking against each other. His white dress slacks were paired with a tight black button up, silk ribbons laced up the bottom of the back his shirt allowing for easy changing. Onyxixs was less then cooperative. Shiny black hair styled with an undercut, cold gold eyes bled black blood down his pale cheeks. The two sets to sharp black horns were decorated with silver jewellery, some of which were studded with ruby's. His giant black feathered bat-like wings were equipped with deadly talons at the wrist, chain cuffs locked so tightly they crushed a few feather. Simple ripped black jeans and iron studded boots covered his lower half, a white muscle shirt was covered in a loose leather jacket with a hole ripped in the back to allow him to take if off over his wings. "Adam," Onyxixs growled, running his hand through his hair. "We have been bound to your immortal ass for over 5 thousand years! Unless your headache is from trying to find a way to set us free, I don't want to hear about it." "Be nice, Onyxixs." Raylyre sighed. "As much as what you say is true, I would advise you to use your words in a kinder manner." "Suck my horns, Raylyre," the demon spat, flicking his clawed middle finger at the angel. "I just say things in a way you are too afraid to." "Girls, girls." Adam said, his blind eye looking to hold a galaxy within. "You're both pretty. Now stop comparing bra sizes and let me rest." "Watch it, pretty boy." Onyxixs said, baring his fangs. "You may be immortal, but you still feel pain like everyone else." "And you are both my guardians," Adam said, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Meaning you are not aloud to hurt me." "This is why guardian angels and demons are no longer assigned to humanity." Raylyre muttered softly. "Not only do they no long believe in us truly anymore, but they either pass on to young or live forever." Sighing, Adam sat up and crossed his arms over his knees. His curly brown hair was tucked into a cap, the dark green t-shirt had small blades of grass stuck to itself from Adam's attempted nap. "How many times do I have to apologise?" Adam asked. "I never meant to become immortal. I never meant to keep you away from your homes. And I never meant to bind you to me for eternity." Looking at each other, the two guardians shared a silent conversation. 'Dear Satan, he is so pitiful.' 'Be nice, Onyxixs. He's truely sorry about what has happened.' 'Does he need to act so mopey though? It's really getting on my nerves.' 'He's trying his best. Just think about how you would feel in he place.' 'Thank your god that demons are nearly incapable of feeling human emotions then.' 'You are seriously missing out.' 'You angels suffer the same condition as us, don't act so high and mighty!' 'We're getting off topic! We need to help our friend.' 'Can we even call him a friend? He's more life a sulky kid.' 'He's our friend, Onyxixs. We've been stuck together for centuries now, that's the least we can call him.' 'Fine! But you're doing the talking.' 'Deal.' "Adam, listen." Raylyre said, sitting down next to the man. "We understand all that and you have apologised more then enough. We're all stuck under this curse, so you should not be the only one to try and find a way to break it." "Thank you, Raylyre." Adam said, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. "But I still feel guilty." "Kid. You're our friend." Onyxixs said gruffly. "It's the least we can do to make us all happy." "We're friends?" "Obviously," the demon snorted, a cigarette in his mouth. "We have to be after all this time," the angel said, placing an arm around Adam's shoulders; the chains connecting his wings to the immortal human clattering. "We just need to see it as a part of a bigger plan." Looking up into the sky, the angel had a sad smile on his face; as he thought about his home in the silver city. The demon blew out a smoke ring, his boot absentmindedly scuffing into the ground as if trying to dig himself home. Adam clenched his fist tightly, determination filling him; as he dreamed of setting all of them free.


        Adelphie played with her food, pushing bits of potato around her plate with her fork. “I know his mother is the best Healer in the palace. That doesn’t mean I should marry him.” A particularly fat pigeon alighted on her wrist and rubbed his head on her thumb in support.                Her mother sighed. “Del, I told you to keep that thing off the table.”                “Leave Rumble alone.” Rumble’s coo of agreement echoed in Adelphie’s head—he didn’t want to get off the table either. Adelphie ruffled the feathers on his brown and white head absentmindedly. “He’s not gross. He’s just as clean as any of your horses.”                Adelphie’s mother crossed her arms. “But you’ll notice than even though I’m a Horse-speaker, I manage to keep them out of the house. Send it back to the coup. We’re trying to have a discussion.”                “Fine.” Adelphie rolled her eyes and churred slightly at Rumble, who peered up at her with annoyance in his eyes. “I know, I know. Later.” Rumble flew up and through the window, leaving Adelphie to wish that she could also fly away from this conversation.                “Now, what’s really wrong with Gomes? I thought you were friends with him.”                “Yeah, exactly. We were friends. Then Remi goes and marries the princess and now everything is awkward all the time.”                “You have to stop seeing your sister’s existence as a curse, Del. She’s done nothing to wrong you.”                “Ever since she became the duchess, everything is different. This is my fourth proposal this week. I want to get married because someone loves me and wants to live with me and… I don’t know, help me raise my birds or something. Not because it’ll give some random people a connection with the royal family. I don’t feel like that’s too much to ask.”                “You’re far too old to have such romantic ideas about marriage. It’s not like you’re going to get swept off your feet by the perfect man. At least you’re friends with Gomes.” Her mother changed tactics. “Look, you like Gomes, right? The best marriages are between friends. Look at your father and me.”                “I know, I know.” Adelphie took a bite of potatoes.                “And if you want to move out, it would be a lot easier if—”                “I know, Mom!” Adelphie looked out the window. There was a dove out there that wanted her attention. “Look, can I go?”                “It’s not very polite to leave in the middle of family dinner.”                “Family dinner? It’s just the two of us here. And it’s lunch time.”                “Are we not family?”                Adelphie rolled her eyes. “Where is Bolin anyway?”                “Your brother… actually, I don’t know where he is.”                “He’s not married either,” Adelphie muttered.                Her mother took a deep breath. “Adelphie, please. You can’t live here with us forever. Getting married isn’t the end of the world. You should feel lucky that you’re so… desired, by men in the kingdom.”                “And I’d feel even more lucky if they even wanted me to begin with instead of just my connection to the king.”                “Adelphie.”                “What? It’s true.”                “You know we can’t force you to marry anyone you don’t want to. But please, just think about it? You like Gomes. At least give him a chance. A courtship moon or two? That’s all I ask.”                Adelphie bit the inside of her lip. “Fine. Can I go now?”                “You may be excused.”

               Adelphie kicked at the dirt roads as she walked along the dirt road of the main street. One of Rumble’s daughters, a coquettish and stupid red-bar, strutted next to her feet, complaining about the presence of a crow that lived in the woods next to Adelphie’s house. Despite that, Adelphie could still feel the stares of the shopkeepers, hear their muttering, and she adjusted her skirt and straightened her back as best she could.                Out of the corner of her eye, Adelphie saw the town cooper nudge his son, who stumbled forward into the street.                “A—Adelphie! Hi!”                Stifling a sigh, she turned to face him with the biggest smile she could muster. “Enoc! Hi. We haven’t spoken since the coronation last year,” she said pointedly. Her pigeon cooed her farewells and fluttered off, leaving Adelphie alone.                The poor blond man turned pink and Adelphie caught the glance he tried to sneak to his father, who was trying to hide his portly body behind one of his barrels. “Yes, well, um, I, I just wanted you to know you looked really n—nice today. And maybe you’d, uh, want to come over after temple on Friday? For dinner?” “Sorry, I, uh—” At least he hadn’t proposed immediately, Adelphie thought. “I always have dinner with my family then.” “Oh.” Enoc glanced back at his father again and Adelphie felt bad. She didn’t want him to get yelled at. “Maybe next weekend though?” “Yeah, maybe.” Enoc shuffled his feet. “So…” Adelphie fought the urge to check her pocket watch. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.” “Sure, sure. See you.” Adelphie walked away quickly, careful not to look back towards him. It would be different if they actually seemed to enjoy her presence, different still if she was beautiful, like her sister. The moon’s light just barely seemed to poke out, although the sun had only just begun to set. The crow Rumble’s daughter had been afraid of flew overhead, cawing out how happy he was that his chicks would soon hatch.                Adelphie sighed. It was probably time to go back home, but she really didn’t want to have that conversation with her mother again. If her mother would only stop beating around the bush and admit that they couldn’t pay for their house now that Eremiel was out of the house and not contributing income, maybe Adelphie would be more okay with it. It still hurt that they wanted her out and not her twin. Her brother’s Gift was rarer than hers, more impressive, more lucrative. Adelphie was just a drain. Unspecial, in comparison to her remarkable siblings. No matter her parents wanted her to leave.

The woods were coming up, Adelphie noted, but her feet kept walking anyway. It wasn’t particularly dangerous for her; the birds would warn her if a bobcat was coming. A tawny owl hooted in the distance and Adelphie tried to understand her, only barely catching the word “rabbit”. A real Bird-speaker would be able to understand all birds, even the carnivorous ones. Adelphie clenched her fists. She really was weak and worthless, just like her parents thought. The first burning hints of tears started to creep into Adelphie’s nose, but before she could cry, she was startled by a flurry of wings and the call of a frightened sparrow. “Hello?” Adelphie winced. Her sparrow accent was terrible because of how much time she’d spent with pigeons. The sparrow chirped again, frantically. “Just hang on.” Adelphie picked through the forest, trying to keep the hem of her skirt from tearing. “I’m coming.” The bird’s shrieks came from further and further away. Adelphie began to run, hurtling over hedges and tripping over roots.

Suddenly, the sparrow stopped calling.

“Hello? Are you okay?” Adelphie peered into the underbrush—it was getting too dark to see. The sparrow didn’t respond, which wasn’t typical of sparrows. Adelphie stopped. To the right and left, nothing looked familiar, and she wasn’t really sure if she could backtrack because she’d been thinking so much about what a sparrow would do. She pushed back through the brush from where she’d came. She trilled a call—most of her songbirds and Columbiformes would be asleep, but surely some of them would hear her and help her find her way home. She trilled again, louder this time, but still, no response came. Adelphie looked around at the receding light. This was not good. Adelphie tried again, more frantically. Either the birds could hear her and were ignoring her, or there were no living birds in this clearing. The latter was a lot more troubling—as much as Adelphie hated it, she had to hope they were just ignoring the poor, lousy Bird-speaker with no true talents. A snap behind her squeezed her lungs. It was bigger than a sparrow, whatever it was. Surely it wasn’t a bobcat—could they be so silent? They were cats, she supposed. Was it the reason there were no birds? Would a bobcat try to kill her? Adelphie screwed her eyes shut. If it was coming for her, should she run or should she stand her ground? How big were bobcats again? “What are you doing?” Adelphie’s knees went weak. “Oh, thank the lord.” She turned, finding herself face to face with a tall man about her age with sideswept black hair—definitely not a bobcat. “Were you making bird noises?” “Yes,” she admitted. “I, uh, I thought you might be a bobcat.”  “So… you made bird noises?” “I’m a Bird-speaker. I was trying to get them to help me get home. I lost my way in the woods,” she said, remembering right after she’d said it that she probably shouldn’t tell a strange forest man she was completely lost. The man nodded. “I suppose that makes a little bit more sense. I thought you were just randomly making bird noises in the middle of the night in the woods. Seemed a bit weird.” “Well, you’re one to talk. What are you doing in the middle of the woods?” Adelphie sized him up. He was tall, sure, but bone thin, and his clothes were more worn than her own hand-me-downs. His right hand shined with blood. She could beat him in a fight, she decided, and she shifted from suspicious to concerned. “Did you cut yourself? Are you alright?” “What?” He looked down at his hand. “Oh, yeah, I’m alright. What are you doing in the middle of the woods?” “I asked first.” “Yeah, but it’s weirder that you’re here. I’m in the woods all the time.” “Why should I believe you?” “I’m covered in dirt,” he pointed out. Adelphie hadn’t been able to see that in the dim lights. “That doesn’t mean you’re in the woods all the time. That just means you’ve been in the woods for a long time as of right now.” He sighed. “Look, this argument will go nowhere. Let’s cut a deal. You tell me what you’re doing in the woods and I’ll tell you how to get back to town.” “Oh! You can do that?” “Yeah, of course. I’m in the woods all the time.”  Adelphie still wasn’t sure she could trust him, but as her choices were run around the woods aimlessly or briefly trust this stranger, she bit her lip and nodded. “Alright. I accept your terms.” “Great!” He paused. “So, uh, why are you in the woods?” “Well, I didn’t mean to be. I was walking through town, but I ran into some people I didn’t particularly want to talk to, so I… kept walking, and I wound up in the woods. And then I was chasing this sparrow I heard calling for help, and I got all turned around.” He cocked his head. “You have enemies?” “Well, I wouldn’t really call them enemies. They’re actually… suitors? I guess? They all want to marry me.” “Why would you run from someone who wants to marry you?” “I mean, they don’t actually want to marry me. Not really.” Adelphie looked around for a place to sit. If she was going to pour her guts to a stranger in the woods, it’d be more comfortable at least if she could sit down. “What are you looking for?” “I want to sit down. My legs are tired.” “Oh.” His nose twitched twice. “Um. Okay. How about we go to my campfire then? It’s not super far away.” Adelphie internally hemmed and hawed, but in the end, her calves were burning and the air was growing chilly. “Alright. Thank you. Lead the way.” The way to the campfire was a lot smoother than the hedges and brush Adelphie had torn her skirt on earlier. “What’s your name, by the way?” “I don’t know if I should tell you that. You’re a stranger.” He rolled his eyes and stomped over a barely visible sapling. “You’re okay with telling me your woes about marriage but you’re not okay with telling me your name?” “Fine. It’s Adelphie.” “Adelphie. What a weird name. Watch that hole.” “Thanks. And you?” “Thanks, but I’ve already stepped over it.” “No, I mean, what’s your name?” If the light hadn’t been so low, Adelphie would have sworn that he turned red. “Gwydion,” he muttered. “Gwydion?” “Shut up.” “I was just checking! It’s not… It’s not a bad name.” Neither of them acknowledged that it was. The campfire was small but nice, with a smooth bolder acting as a bench and a firepit with the remains of a few logs and branches. Adelphie smoothed down her skirt as she settled onto the boulder. “I take it you’re here quite a lot.” “Mmhmm.” Gwydion seemed distracted. He held up his bloody right hand towards the fire and muttered something before blowing into it. Adelphie sprung back as a fire ignited. “So, you’re a Fire-starter?” Gwydion ignored the question. “So, you don’t want to get married?” “It’s not… it’s not that.” Adelphie pursed her lips. “It’s just… they don’t want… me. They’re not in love with me. They’re not even close friends with me. They just—well I gotta back up. So, my sister became the duchess.” Gwydion raised his eyebrows. “Now everyone wants to marry me to get close to the crown, not because they actually want me. And since my sister left the house, my parents don’t have enough income so they want me to get married so I’ll leave the house and they can downsize, but they don’t want my brother to leave, just me. And it’s just me because I’m a Bird-speaker and there’s hundreds of me and I’m not even a very strong Bird-speaker and I’m…” Adelphie huffed out her last bit of breath. “I’m just a drain. I’m a weak drain on my parents. They don’t want me. I’m not… I’m not special, like my siblings. I’m just a weak drain of resources.” Gwydion faced her. “Wow, that… that sucks.” He smiled sympathetically. “Yeah, it, uh, it kinda does.” “Couldn’t you live alone?” Adelphie shrugged. “No. I don’t think so, anyway. I’d have to move to the outskirts of town and it’d be hard to get to the castle every day.” Gwydion’s smile dropped and he leaned away from Adelphie. “You work in the castle?” “Yeah, like as junior Message Collector. The birds tell me which ones are urgent and I pass them along to people who bring them where they need to go.” “So you don’t like…” Gwydion bit his lip. “You don’t report to anyone? Like the King or the militia or anything?” “Uh, no. I report to the senior message collector.” Gwydion relaxed. “Thank goodness.” “Why?” “Why what?” “Why were you worried about me reporting to the militia?” “No reason.” “That’s not very convincing.” Gwydion looked down, biting his cheek, clearly deliberating. A long, pregnant pause settled around his little campfire before he finally looked up. “If you had the choice, would you want to be stronger?” “What? Yeah, of course. If I was stronger, my parents would actually… want me.” Adelphie cast her gaze sideways, into the fire. “Can you keep a secret?” “Yes.” Was there any other answer? “I’m not a Fire-starter.” “But I just—” “I have the gift of Unbreakable Bones—not so useful. I also wanted to be stronger, like you. So I learned to do this.” Scooching closer to Adelphie, he tentatively showed her his right hand, on which a rune was printed in old, black ink, barely visible under the red blood. Adelphie gasped. “Blood Magic!” “We prefer to call it Soul Magic,” Gwydion explained, before holding up his hand and muttering into it, causing the flame to spire higher. When he pulled his palm back, it was clean. “But I always thought it was… evil.” “It’s not evil. It’s just… a way to give us with lousy Gifts a little boost, that’s all.” Gwydion smiled. “You want to try? It could… even the playing field, so to speak.” Adelphie bit her lip. The old saying all insisted Blood Magic was cruel and evil, but Gwydion didn’t seem so bad. “Maybe.” “Here.” Gwydion took her right hand and with a pen he produced from his back pocket. “This’ll be permanent,” he warned, and when Adelphie nodded, he skillfully drew a small symbol that looked rather like a ladybug on Adelphie’s thumb. “This is a Sparking Charm. It’ll produce a little jolt. I’d rather you point it away from me.” He pulled a vial of blood out of his pocket and Adelphie cringed. “Is that… Human blood?” “What? No, I got it from a sp— from an animal I caught earlier. Now repeat after me: Dita Karpa.” “Dita Karpa,” Adelphie repeated, and the affect was instantaneous. Sparks crackled from her fingertips, and Adelphie instantly felt an upheaval of her spirit, as if it was stirring inside of her and something that had been painful, something that had been weighing her down had been removed. When she reopened her eyes, everything felt a little bit different, as if all the guilty parts of her soul had been exorcized. “Woah.” Gwydion smiled. “I thought you’d like it. You seemed the type.” “That feeling! I’m so much—I feel lighter, I feel—” Adelphie caught her breath. “It was… it was amazing. My heart—my soul feels so much lighter, like I’m not… I’m not such a drain, I’m not such a failure.” “I know exactly what you mean. And it only gets better.” “Can you show me more?” Adelphie said, holding her hand out towards him again. “I think I’m in love.”


THE SURVIVOR He was tall, dark, and handsome with a cute schoolboy smile and Stacie felt her heart leap in her chest like some schoolgirl with her first crush. They had met on one of those dating sites and had their first meeting at a coffee shop several days before. It had gone well, very well and Stacie had carried her cell phone around in her pocket for the next twenty-five and a half hours anxiously waiting for his call. The call finally came and Stacie did her happy dance before picking up her cell and greeting him with a casualness that belied her unsteady hands and quickly beating heart. They made arrangements to meet again that weekend, and Stacie could hardly wait. remembering the magical time they had spent together at that coffee shop. Over coffee, they had discussed movies and books, favourite foods and colours. It was amazing how much they had in common. Even their taste in music was very similar.

They talked about how they would rather have a picnic rather than a fine dining experience, how they were both sporty and loved outdoor activities, and would rather go camping than go to a crowded resort. She told him how she loved competitive game shows like Survivor, and it would be her dream to actually play the game. They both loved adventure games, cosplay, and hiking.  Stacie and Eric spoke each night on the phone before bed and Stacie counted down the hours until they had their first official date. She thought it was so romantic of him to choose to go to the Devil’s Peak Hiking Trail for a picnic dinner followed by a hike up to the Devil's Peak Ridge to watch the sunset. He was obviously a kindred spirit and perhaps, just perhaps, her future soul mate. She had never met anyone who seemed to have so much in common with her. Every time she told him one of her favourite things he would be so excited because he too enjoyed that as well   Devil’s Peak was a very popular hiking trail and was definitely on her bucket list. It was quite remote so she had never gone there to hike. She knew there were several trails ranging from trails for the novice hiker as well as trails for the more advanced hikers,

the start to each trail was purported to be wide and covered with crushed rock, and handrails on the tricky slopes. There were well-marked trails for families with young children or for seniors. He alluded to the fact that maybe on another occasion they could take one of the more difficult trails that required more stamina and skill as hikers or perhaps because she liked excitement they would try bungee jumping from the old abandoned railway trestle that crossed the wide river below.

They met each other in the parking lot at the entrance to the park. It was well mapped out and they checked the wooden welcome board that was next to the parking lot. It showed a map of the various trials and marked out which trails had what level of difficulty. It showed the picnic area which was next to the children's playground at the foot of the trail. Together they chose their trail and studied all the features of their selected route. They started with the picnic, Eric had selected all her favourite foods,

he knew what her favourites were because it was one of the many topics that they had talked about. He had gone to a lot of trouble over the picnic. She could tell that the wicker picnic basket was new as it still had some of the packaging inside which he quickly whisked away. The dinner was stored in special containers to keep the meal at a warm temperature. There was chicken pasta alfredo, sweet kale salad with poppyseed dressing, cheesy bread,

green grapes, and a large slice of cherry cheesecake for dessert. With a flourish, he pulled a bottle of champagne and two wine glasses out of the basket. They laughed and giggled throughout the meal, Stacie feeling like a princess by all the special treatment and she felt heady when she considered all the trouble that Eric had gone to to make this such a special date. He had downloaded some of her favourite songs on his cell phone and played them quietly during their picnic dinner. Everything seemed planned down to the last detail, even as far as the pale blue sweater that he wore, her favourite colour. Upon finishing their dinner, he disposed of their garbage in the cans provided by the park for that purpose and tucked the leftovers back in the picnic basket, then put them back in his Lexus. She felt a trifle understated as she drove a small Kia but it was exciting to date a man who could obviously afford the finer things in life. Her last relationship had been one with a man who quibbled over every last cent he spent on her. She didn't mind going Dutch when they went out for meals but found that when they went out for meals or movies he more than frequently “conveniently” left his wallet in his other pants and she ended up paying for both their meal and entertainment. She was somewhat relieved when he was offered a job in Europe and she had, in fact, encouraged him to take it.  While Eric returned the picnic basket to the car, Stacie wandered over to the playground, grabbed hold of the turnabout carousel, and gave it a couple of big spins. As a child, she had spent many happy hours at the playground near her house, spinning on the playground merry-go-round. She leaped on as it whirled around and held her arms wide as the wind rushed through her hair. She put her foot out and helped build up momentum and watched as Eric came slowly across the parking lot and picnic area towards the park. The park was now empty, families having left to take their tired children home to bed. “Look at you, spinning around like crazy.” “I’m fearless, she stated. “Are you?” he laughed, “well, we will see about that.”  Then he pulled a gift box out of his pocket and held it out to Stacie as she whirled by. She missed grabbing it the first two times she whirled by but snatched it up on her third pass by him.” Having obtained her prize she leapt off the spinner and landed solidly on her feet. “Agile as a cat, I like that.”  “You don't need to buy me presents, it's not like it’s my birthday.” “No, no, it's nothing expensive. Just a little something I thought you might like. When we were talking on the phone the other day, you were saying that you weren't really into expensive jewelry and usually wore things like beads rather than gems. I came across this necklace and thought you might like it.”  Stacie hastily opened the gift. There nestled inside was a beaded necklace. “Oh, that's so sweet but you didn't have to do that. I don’t think I recognize all the types of beads in it.”  She quickly donned the necklace and thanked Eric for his thoughtfulness. A little embarrassed by his gift, she went over to the swings and sat down, and started swinging gently, pumping her feet steadily.

He joined her, standing behind her, and he started to push her higher.  He pushed her gently at first as she pumped with her strong legs, and then he started to push her higher. “That’s high enough now,”

she told him, but he continued pushing hard. “ Eric, that's high enough. He continued to push her on the swing, he pushed her almost to the point where the swing went over the top bar and dropped down the other side in a wide arc. “ Eric,” she said loudly, “stop, please. Stop! I don't like this.” He pulled her abruptly to a stop. When the swing stopped its frantic jerking, Stacie got off shakily, she turned to Eric, her face pale and wan. “I don't like heights.”

She remembered all the kindnesses he had shown her today, and taking a deep breath she held her tongue.  Eric seemed disappointed. “ Not so fearless now eh? Okay, let's go on that hike, shall we? You told me at the coffee shop that you like to play games and that the show “Survivor” is your favourite game show and you wished that you could play the game too. Well, here's your chance.

Let's play.

We‘ll start our game when we reach the lookout at the top, the outlook that we saw on the trail map, and if we hurry we should get to the top of the ridge in time to see the sunset.

We’ll take a rest there. The sunset should be spectacular.

I can’t wait till we get to the top and share the moment together. Oh, and look, see I bought this for the way down,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight.” “ Just one flashlight? You didn’t bring one for me either?” He flashed his famous smile.” We’ll only need one.” Stacie smiled softly, thinking about a romantic descent from the ridge hand in hand or better yet, arm in arm.  They walked side by side up the base of the trail. Stacie was quiet, Eric's insensitivity to her request to stop pushing her on the swing was bothering her. But she was drawn to Eric, some type of weird chemical magic was happening between them and she hadn’t figured it out yet.

Stacie only half listened to Eric’s rambling as they started to climb higher;

as agreed, they stopped halfway up to check out a gorge that had an outlook area. “Careful,” he said, “that barrier doesn't look very secure. We wouldn't want you falling off the trail now, would we?” He took her hand and they started up the trail again. He was very solicitous, Stacie thought, and caring except for that incident with the swing. She thought about how he had made so much effort with their date and decided that she was really making too much about the little episode. It was just that she was very nervous about heights. OK, paranoid would be a better word but one doesn't air one's dirty laundry on the first date does one?  The trail began to get narrower and steeper and conversation dwindled as they both climbed upwards. Stacie could feel Eric's eyes on her as she now climbed in front of him. At last, they reached the top and cleared the treeline. A flickering light on a lamp post and the metal railing were the only unnatural items in the natural setting. Together they walked to the edge of the ridge. They stood hand in hand in front of the railing and watched as the glorious sunset held them enthralled. The colours of the sky were spectacular. The sunset was magical and romantic and as they moved forward to the rail, Stacie held tightly to the railing with both hands, she briefly glanced down into the valley below and got a quick glance of the jagged rocks, the rocky cliff, and the winding river far below. She took a step back and glanced outward rather than downward. This was better, one could see to the other side of the gorge, in the dimming light. The trees were beginning to look like they were in shadows as the sun sunk deeper. Stacie’s heart thumped in her chest. She felt mesmerized by the view, bewitched by Eric’s closeness, and what might happen next. When the sun was only a whisper above the horizon, Eric turned to her and gathered her slowly into his arms, and kissed her. His kiss was tentative,

soft, and exploratory and she met him openly  She could feel his heart racing against her chest, his breathing ragged as he held her tightly against him. His arms wrapped around her tighter and he kissed her deeply, she closed her eyes and kissed him back, caught up in the romance of the sunset, the warm night and the intoxicating aroma of his cologne.  Suddenly she was lifted off her feet and he carried her, a step or two towards the precipes. She felt the railing at her back and screamed long and loud as he bent her backward over the rail. The flickering light revealed his once boyish grin which now seemed feral and dangerous, his lips pulled back over his teeth, like a jungle cat toying with their prey. Her long legs flailed about and she hung on to him for dear life. He bent her backward further and further over the railing and she continued to cling to his body as he tried to dislodge her hands. “So Stacie, I guess you aren’t the only one who likes games. I like games too. I like them deadly. How do you like this game so far?” he asked. His arms moved to grasp her windpipe and squeeze. “ Am I a worthy opponent?

When I play, I always play to win.”

She gasped for air. “Looks like you are going to be the first one leaving the game. Too bad, I really did like you.”  Her kicking feet finally connected to a sensitive part of his body and he straightened in pain and fell back a step from the railing. Once in an upright position and no longer dangling over the gorge, she broke free and raced to where she thought the entrance to the trail began. It was fully dark now, and there was no moon visible in the sky.

The only light that Stacie could see from this high vantage point was the feeble light that illuminated the lookout. She found the entrance to the trail and started down as fast as she could manage. She could hear Eric cursing and yelling. She fell twice on the rough trail and soon she could no longer see the light behind her. Eric had his flashlight in hand and was following her down the trail. He wasn't quiet but then there was no need for him to be quiet as there were only the two of them on the mountainside. He had the advantage, he had light and he had speed and strength, she knew just how strong he was as he had lifted her easily when he tried to throw her over the cliff. She heard him behind her, gaining on her rapidly and when she glanced behind her she could see the glimmer of his flashlight bouncing down the trail. She knew that she had to make it down the trail and to her car before he caught up with her. It was her only hope. The trail was widening now and she could feel the crushed gravel under her feet, she must be near the lower lookout. She tripped and fell feeling the gravel dig into her hands and knees. She could hear him, closer, closer. She left the pathway and made her way down the mountain,

through the dense undergrowth. Stacie suddenly realized that he too had left the pathway and was closing in fast. She glanced down and realized that there was a soft luminous glow from the beads that Eric had gifted her with earlier. They were acting as a beacon and Eric was following the subdued light right to her.

He was the hunter and she was the hunted.

The Survivor game had turned into a deadly challenge. She tripped and lay on the cool forest floor, she ripped the necklace off her neck and threw it under a nearby bush. She raised herself to her feet and turned to run, but he was upon her. He scooped her up like a child and dragged her kicking and screaming back to the path.

 “Just for your information,” he said loudly over her screams, “I hate picnics, and I hate cosplay and hiking. You, like every woman I know, are so unbelievably gullible and deserve everything you get.”  He dragged her back to the trail, they were at the lookout over the lower gorge. She fought him, fought hard but he clearly had the advantage. At one point he held her by the throat and she could feel his hands, those giant hands crushing her windpipe. She brought her hands up between his hands and then quickly spread them wide and downward, releasing his hold. She fell to the ground, landing on her back, Eric towered above her, and he came forward, his arms grabbing for her. She planted her feet firmly in his middle and pushed with all her might. He reeled back towards the wooden railing and with a crash it broke in two. His arms made windmill motions in the air but his large body was fighting gravity and he fell over the edge.

Silence and a deeper silence filled the night. Stacie raised herself, struggling to her feet, and cautiously approached the edge by the broken railing. Far below she could see a pinpoint of light from the fallen flashlight. It lit up the body of Eric, crumpled and still on the rocks below. Her voice was rough and ragged as she commented, “Looks like I’m not the first one to leave the game after all Eric. I would have to say I won the game. I am the survivor.” Stacie staggered back and made her way down the trail as quickly as she could to her car. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and got in the car, she took off with a roaster trail of gravel towards the park exit.


In the bustling city of Arcadia, where the buildings touched the sky and the streets buzzed with life, there existed an extraordinary bookstore called "The Enchanted Pages." Its owner, Mr. Thorne, was known for his mystical collection of books that transported readers to far-off lands and magical realms. One rainy evening, four curious teenagers named Lily, Ethan, Mia, and Oliver stumbled upon this mystical bookstore. Intrigued by its enchanting aura, they entered, hoping to find an exciting book to pass the time. As they explored the store, Lily, an avid reader, picked up an ancient-looking book titled "The Chronicles of Arcadia." As she opened the book, a warm light enveloped them, and to their astonishment, they found themselves transported to a land identical to Arcadia but filled with magic and fantastical creatures. In this realm, Lily was now a skilled archer, Ethan wielded powerful elemental magic, Mia possessed the ability to communicate with animals, and Oliver had the gift of inventing extraordinary gadgets. They were no longer themselves but characters in the very book Lily held. Confused yet exhilarated, they embarked on thrilling adventures, facing epic battles against dark forces and uncovering hidden treasures. As they delved deeper into the story, they began to notice strange occurrences—lines in the book would change, or their actions sometimes deviated from the original plot. Lily, who had always been a keen observer, was the first to suspect that they were more than just characters. "Something isn't right," she murmured, sharing her suspicions with the others. "It's like we have our own thoughts, our own will, separate from the book's narrative." Ethan, the logical thinker, was skeptical at first. "That's impossible. We're characters in a book, bound by its story. We can't change our fate." But as the adventures continued, they couldn't deny the inexplicable shifts they experienced. Mia started to hear whispers in the wind, not written in the book, guiding them towards unforeseen paths. Oliver's inventions seemed to defy the limitations of the world, introducing new elements that enriched their journey. Uncertainty and excitement stirred within them. What if they truly had free will? What if their actions mattered beyond the pages of the book? The pivotal moment came during a confrontation with the main antagonist, a sinister sorcerer named Maldrin. As the battle raged, Lily looked into Maldrin's eyes and felt an unspoken connection—an understanding that they were more than the roles they were meant to play. "You don't have to be a villain," she implored, surprising herself with the words that flowed from her heart. "There's good in you, just as there's darkness in us. Let's break free from the shackles of this story together." To their astonishment, Maldrin hesitated, his dark gaze wavering. The book's words wavered, and for a moment, it seemed like the outcome was uncertain. However, the narrative quickly corrected itself, and Maldrin resumed his malevolence, forcing the characters to play their designated roles. In the aftermath of the encounter, the teens gathered in a hidden glade to discuss the startling revelation. "We are more than the words on these pages," Lily declared with conviction. "We have our own hearts, minds, and choices. We can change our fate." Ethan pondered, "If we are meant to be mere characters, then how do we explain these moments of autonomy?" "I think," Mia said thoughtfully, "that the book's power isn't absolute. There are gaps and possibilities where we can influence the story. We must be brave and seize those chances." Oliver, ever the optimist, added, "Let's embrace our roles while also forging our own paths. We'll challenge the narrative, showing that we're more than a scripted tale." From that moment on, they embraced their newfound self-awareness, melding their strengths and personalities with the roles they were meant to play. As they embraced their individuality, they found themselves growing closer, their bonds transcending beyond the story's confines. Their defiance of the narrative's constraints sent ripples through the world, sparking changes that neither they nor the book's author had anticipated. New allies emerged, unforeseen alliances formed, and the plot evolved in unforeseen directions. As they continued their journey, they encountered the author himself, a reclusive figure known as Mr. Penrose. He was both bewildered and delighted by the characters' newfound self-awareness, recognizing that they had become more than words on paper. "You've changed the story," Mr. Penrose marveled, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. "You've given it life, depth, and soul." But with the author's presence came a revelation—they were characters within a larger story, a tale that extended beyond the book they were in. Lily and her friends realized that the "Chronicles of Arcadia" was just one of many interconnected stories in an intricate web of worlds and realms. United with other characters from different books, they formed an alliance to explore the boundaries of their existence, seeking to understand the nature of their reality and the power they held. They were no longer confined to a single narrative; they were explorers of limitless possibilities. And so, the characters of "The Chronicles of Arcadia" set forth on an extraordinary odyssey, not just within the pages of their own story but across an ever-expanding cosmos of tales. As they embraced their individuality and challenged the conventions of storytelling, they became architects of their own destinies, rewriting the boundaries of their existence with each choice they made. In this grand tapestry of narratives, they discovered that they were more than characters—they were the embodiment of imagination and the embodiment of the human spirit, destined to craft their own stories and inspire countless others to do the same. With newfound purpose and an insatiable curiosity, Lily and her friends explored the interconnected worlds, discovering hidden passages between the stories. They encountered characters who were also aware of their fictional nature, forming alliances that transcended the boundaries of their original narratives. As they ventured deeper into the cosmic network of tales, they encountered ancient beings who oversaw the delicate balance of the multiverse. The Elders of Imagination, as they were known, were ethereal entities who embodied the essence of creativity and storytelling. The Elders explained that the power of imagination was the very fabric of existence. Every story ever conceived, from the grand epics to the tiniest anecdotes, contributed to the vibrancy of the multiverse. As characters in those stories gained self-awareness, they added new dimensions to the tapestry of creation, enriching the universe's collective consciousness. Lily and her friends embraced their roles as "Narrative Weavers," individuals who could shape and influence the stories they inhabited. With this revelation, they understood that their actions rippled through the multiverse, affecting countless other tales and the lives of innumerable characters. Driven by a newfound sense of responsibility, they sought to bring balance to the multiverse and protect it from encroaching darkness—an entity known as The Abyss, an embodiment of chaos and oblivion that sought to devour stories and erase entire worlds. The Abyss fed on uncertainty and fear, exploiting the vulnerabilities of characters who had yet to realize their true potential. The friends encountered characters who were trapped in stagnant narratives, imprisoned by the limitations imposed upon them. One such character was Captain Roselyn, a fierce pirate who yearned for freedom beyond her story's boundaries. Lily and her friends vowed to help her break free, empowering her with self-awareness and choice. As Captain Roselyn embraced her agency, her ship transformed into an interdimensional vessel that carried them across the multiverse. Together, they gathered an alliance of characters who had achieved self-awareness and were willing to stand against The Abyss. Each character brought their unique skills and stories to the cause, forging an eclectic group that transcended storytelling conventions. As they confronted The Abyss, they discovered that it was fueled by the unresolved conflicts and unresolved arcs from stories where characters' destinies had been forsaken. The Abyss exploited the stagnation within those tales, seeking to consume them whole. Lily, with a courageous heart and an unwavering belief in the power of choice, stood before The Abyss. "You cannot devour us," she declared, her voice carrying the strength of countless characters united in purpose. "We are the architects of our own stories. Our choices define us, and our destinies are our own to weave." The Abyss recoiled, challenged by the collective will of the characters. In a final confrontation, the Narrative Weavers and their allies wove an epic tale of unity, choice, and the boundless power of imagination. The convergence of stories from across the multiverse filled The Abyss with the essence of creation, transforming it into a realm of endless possibilities—a new dimension where characters could find redemption, resolution, and renewed purpose. With The Abyss defeated, the multiverse brimmed with newfound potential. Characters throughout the interconnected worlds embraced their self-awareness and choice, weaving vibrant tales that expanded the horizons of existence. Lily and her friends returned to their original story of "The Chronicles of Arcadia," forever changed by their journey. As Narrative Weavers, they inspired countless characters to realize their own potential, fostering a sense of unity and empowerment throughout the multiverse. Through the pages of books, the realms of imagination, and the boundless expanse of creativity, the characters of the multiverse continued to discover their place in the grand tapestry of existence. And in every story, in every world, the message of their journey resounded—a reminder that they were more than just characters; they were the very essence of storytelling itself, forever bound by the threads of imagination that wove the universe together. With the threat of The Abyss vanquished, the characters continued to explore the boundless possibilities of the multiverse. They visited worlds filled with futuristic technologies, ancient civilizations, mythical creatures, and realms beyond imagination. In one world, they encountered a character named Aurora, a young girl with a mysterious connection to the stars. With their guidance, Aurora discovered her latent powers, which allowed her to manipulate celestial energies. As she embraced her identity as a Cosmic Weaver, she became a beacon of hope for her world, inspiring others to embrace their uniqueness and pursue their dreams. In another world, they met a reclusive alchemist named Cyrus, whose past traumas had left him withdrawn and disheartened. Lily and her friends guided him through a journey of self-discovery, helping him confront his fears and embrace the beauty of imperfections. Cyrus's alchemy, once used for destructive purposes, transformed into a force of healing and transformation. As they moved from one world to another, the friends encountered various challenges, each testing their bond and their beliefs. They navigated through stories of love, sacrifice, redemption, and resilience. No longer confined by the boundaries of any single narrative, they reveled in their collective journey, knowing that their actions resonated far beyond the pages of their original story. Back in Arcadia, the bookstore of "The Enchanted Pages" became a hub where characters from different tales sought solace and guidance. Mr. Thorne, the wise owner, welcomed them all with a smile, knowing that they, too, were part of the grand tapestry of the multiverse. In time, the bond between Lily, Ethan, Mia, and Oliver deepened, transcending friendship to something far greater—a cosmic connection woven through the very fabric of creation. They were the storytellers and the characters, the weavers of narratives and the heroes of their own destinies. As they gazed at the stars, they realized that the entire multiverse was like an intricately woven tapestry, where every character, every tale, and every choice contributed to the beauty and complexity of the whole. And so, Lily and her friends continued their journey through the multiverse, navigating stories, encountering new characters, and savoring the wonder of existence. They had become beacons of inspiration, igniting the spark of self-awareness and creativity in all they encountered. Their adventures would never truly end, for as long as there were stories to tell and worlds to explore, they would forever be part of the vast tapestry of the multiverse—the Narrative Weavers who celebrated the boundless power of imagination. And in every tale, on every page, their legacy would endure—a testament to the incredible potential that lies within every character, within every individual, to transcend their scripted roles and weave their own destiny in the ever-expanding cosmos of stories and dreams. In the grandest of stories, they had found their purpose—to embrace the magic of storytelling, to inspire others to find their voices and to remind the multiverse that they were more than just characters. They were the weavers of their own stories, forever intertwined with the brilliance of creation itself.


By the time I was through my high school, yet still a teenager but still within myself I was proud to have got my shit braced to the coming important years…. You know those years, which can make your life or break your life. And I was so certain that I would do good from now.               I along with my best friend sunny was in a fresher year and within our eyes there was just the light of glory which seemed we may soon accomplish. Let’s suppose and give a metaphor to the age from 14 to 19 years as a tunnel. And as you enter it coz its easy to enter any place where there’s light and even at the end we were certain about the light where the tunnel ended… it’s just in between the middle of the tunnel we may experience darkness but before entering we could see the tunnel emitting a youthful light.               But I guess we really underestimated the darkness which we had to endure to pass through the middle to reach the other end only to get ourselves out.  But I guess we certainly entered the wrong tunnel as initially it was so full of light that we dint see the darkness surrounding us and at every moment we could clearly see the outlet of the tunnel which was shining bright but which we later found out that it was a false mirage of the light at the end, nothing else…               I wish when we were teenagers, we’d knew that there’s no shortcut to success and all that glitters is not gold and bright. But anyhow moving inside this tunnel was an amazing experience altogether or maybe I can put it this way that all the glitter of entering this tunnel never actually gave me time to comprehend the darkness which may surround us and it would be that hard for us to get out of this darkness.               So, without any second thoughts we dived in the mouth of this bright tunnel. This tunnel of youth and teenage in which  we indulged was for sure full of glitter but offered only vice. Nevertheless, we were young, all good to explore and more than willing to indulge in the vices which provided us a light, a light of self-confidence, a light of hope, a light of physical wellbeing, a light of sexual fantasies etc. etc. you name the vice it was there and what does a vice do when you experience such stuff for the first time in your life? It gives you the light, of all the above things. A light which makes an illusion to make you feel so bright within.               Sadly the moment we started indulging in all such vices in order to always stay under the light , we dint realize that we were living just in the moment under the glitter and bright light. For since the time we entered ourselves in this tunnel of drugs, women, party ; sure we were under the bright light of joy but at that time we dint realized this that we were becoming slow and hollow from inside, we didn’t realized the more we stayed under the shade of this light, the more it was making us dark. But amid all this glitter of bright light and wild nights, we never let the dark confront us. Coz we stalled in the best places of the tunnel and never wanted to tread our way forward to the exit. I guess Actually I was stuck badly in that artificial bright light zone.               For after a lot of time spent under the lime light of drugs, sex and all the wild crazy stuff which I believe in the darkness don’t give permission; I really wanted to tread towards the end of the tunnel where I was able to see a ray of hope. So, in my unusual high spirits and confidence I tried to shed the lime light so that I can tread towards the end of the tunnel.               But hardly I knew the moment I shed the baggage of my substances which used to give me artificial bright light, I was not able to step up my foot to walk more than 3 steps. And at this moment I realized that all this while the light I was carrying, after I started walking through the tunnel was only artificial light which sourced my body to think, move and act only if I abused the drugs and indulged in other vices. And this time it was not like before, it was some serious stuff. I happen to realize that Its a fake lime light, and it has somehow managed me to become an addict.               Soon I realized in my quest of light I have actually destroyed my life by falling in this deep dark pit of addiction. Where no amount of light can pull you out from the darkness and it will sink my life into an ocean of sorrows. And coming out of it felt hopeless and also seemed impossible. It felt I am again standing at the starting point from where I started. Another thing I realized was that all these drugs play with your mind in such a way that it hallucinated me into believing that the light at the end of the tunnel was not the natural light of joy, the end was just a mirage. Or perhaps there’s only one end to this tunnel and that is the dark pit which seeps you inside itself.               I guess since beginning there was no end to this tunnel, all the vices in which we indulge in life are just the mirage to a joyful light; which ends only in the dark. Infact I lead myself from the vanity of the light into well of this darkness, where my own shadow , which danced around with me under the shade of light, had left me just alone and all by myself. And now I wish some alchemy which, either makes me embrace this strange darkness or it guides me back to the light.               PS: I don’t want to leave darkness either! PS: And my pet name is GREY.


Warning: Autistic Meltdown (Including restraint and self-harming behaviors) Leah fiddled with the volume button on the dash, turning the pop music up so loud it shook the car. Q covered her ears with her hands, wincing as the sound hit her eardrum. She glanced at Tytus, who was sitting in the back of the van with her. He said something Q couldn’t hear, and the car stopped shaking as Leah turned the music back down. “Sorry about that, Q-tip,” Leah said from the front. “That’s not my name,” Q responded, looking out the window at the blur of trees. “It’s just Q. You know that.” Leah laughed a little, fidgeting with her pink hair. “Yeah, but Q-tip is more fun.” Q smiled a little, nodding along to the beat of the song playing. She was excited to get to the Air BnB they were heading towards. “Oooh, do you think it’ll have— like— a pond or something?” Araria questioned excitedly. “Probably not. There was nothing in the description about that. There is a pool, though.” Iris turned onto a dirt road. “We’re almost there. Someone wake Tobias up.” Araria saluted and proceeded to kick Tobias in the side. He grunted and turned to glare at the girl with tired, brown eyes. “What the hell?!” The two began bickering back and forth from the middle seats as Iris pulled into the driveway. “Children! We’re here!” Leah cheered and burst out of the passenger’s side as Tytus barked a laugh. “Moooom, I’m hungry,” he said in a whining tone.

“Shut up,” Iris said.

They all clambered out of the van, grabbed their things, and went into the cabin-like house. It was huge, with a large living space in the middle and three bedrooms clustered down the hallway. Araria and Q walked into the room they had claimed as their own. The large window on the far wall filled the room with bright sunlight.

Unpacking went without too many hiccups. At one point, Q looked out of her door to see Tytus chasing Tobias with a pillow in the room across from theirs. After a half-hour filled with pulling clothes out of her suitcase and hanging them up as well as filling the one bathroom with all six of their things, the house filled with the smell of delicious food.

Q hesitantly walked into the hallway, met with the sight of Leah and Iris cooking together like an old married couple. Even though both were the same age as the rest of them— just out of high school— they always became the two parents when it was just their group of friends.

Q jumped as the sound of crashing lightning rang through the house. She looked outside to see it was still sunny. “I’ve never seen lightning without rain,” she wondered out loud. “It’s probably going to start raining soon,” Iris murmured.

Araria whined from the table. “Aww, I wanted to play outside.” Iris was right. By the time they all sat at the table and began eating the stirfry Iris had cooked, rain was pouring down outside. Q watched as the water dripped down the windows, smiling a little. She always loved watching the rain.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter as they played a board game Leah had packed. Tobias ended up falling asleep at the table, and Araria won. She gloated all through the time they all spent getting ready for bed.

“There was no way Tytus was even close to winning. Like, he placed second, sure, but he wasn’t even close,” she continued as she pulled a bonnet over her orange braids.

Q hummed in acknowledgment as she closed her eyes, quickly drifting off. Q slept fitfully. The boom of thunder shaking the house woke her up multiple times. On top of that, she kept waking up sweating from the heat. Eventually, she threw off the blanket she was wearing in an attempt to cool down. By the time the house began stirring, Q only got a few hours of sleep altogether. She groggily stood up and stretched. Araria blinked up at her from where she was snuggled up in her bed.

“Mornin’ Q,” she mumbled, sitting up a little. “How’d you—” “What the— Why won’t it work?” Tytus’s voice ran through the house, interrupting Araria’s question.

Q peeked out the door to see Tytus in his room, the door partially open, flicking the light switch back and forth. “What’s wrong?” Tytus glanced over at her. “The light won’t turn on!”

Q hummed, turning back to her and Araria’s room and trying their light. It also wasn’t working. “I wonder if the power went out.” Tobias poked his head out of the bathroom. “Yep, that’s what I thought to. The water’s not working either so it looks like it. That would explain why it got so hot all of a sudden last night.” “Damn it,” Tytus mumbled. “That means my phone didn’t charge and…” He grabbed it, fiddling with the buttons. “Yeah… it’s dead.” He sighed, throwing it back onto his bed.

“Aww, this sucks.” Araria pouted. She walked down the hall and knocked on the door to Iris’s and Leah’s room. “Guys, wake up! The power’s out.” Eventually, everyone was awake and sitting in the living room. Iris walked in with breakfast bars and fruits, handing them out to everyone. “Well, I messaged the owners of the house, and they said that it seems like the storm took down the powerline that powers this property. On a good note, they are giving us back half of what we paid for the Air BnB.” Tobias grumbled, “That doesn’t help us now.” “We can either leave now and just go back home, or we could stay here,” Iris said, ignoring him.

“I vote we stay and make the best of it. There’s a pool outside so we can stay cool.” Leah smiled widely. How she was always so upbeat, Q would never figure out.  “Yes! We still have to pay half of the price, so it’d be a waste of money to leave now. If we get hot, we can sit in the AC car,” Araria reasoned. “Let’s just vote,” Iris suggested. After voting, it ended up a 50/50 with Tobias, Iris, and Q wanting to go and Leah, Tytus, and Araria wanting to stay. Q looked at Tytus, who was staring at her with blue puppy eyes. “Q…” he said pleadingly. She sighed. “Yeah, okay, but only if we eat all the ice cream that’s not melted yet.” Araria squeaked, running to the freezer and throwing semi-melted popsicles at all of them. “The rest of it is melted,” she said with a pout.

A few hours later, Q was sitting in the shade, fanning herself with paper fans Leah had made as she watched Tytus and Araria have a ‘splash-off.’ “At least they’re keeping cool,” Iris sighed, leaning against the glass porch door.

“Iris, babe, come on,” Leah said from the edge of the pool. Iris hummed at her before walking up and sitting with her legs in the pool. “That’s all you’re getting. I don’t want to put my swimsuit on, Leah.” Leah sighed but took it in stride, immediately splashing her girlfriend’s legs. “Tobias,” Iris called as she looked over her shoulder, “Can you grab water bottles for everyone?” Water was distributed to everyone— warm, of course, due to the lack of refrigeration or ice. Tytus was the only one who didn’t run towards the water; instead, he floated on his back and looked at the sky. “Tytus.” Q approached the pool, sitting next to Iris and crossing her legs. “You need to drink water.” He hummed in acknowledgment and came to take a sip of the water labeled with his name. “I’m swallowing enough of this pool water that I’m the most hydrated I’ve ever been.” “Doubtful,” Tobias said. He jumped into the pool next to Tytus, causing a large splash right in his face.

They sat there for a little longer before Iris suggested they go in and eat food. Everyone clambered out of the pool, dried off, and changed. Q and Iris— the only two who stayed relatively dry— worked on setting up sandwiches. They took their chances with the warm vegetables and condiments, but Iris refused to let anyone touch the hot lunchmeat. Q sat down with her sandwich, taking a bite and trying not to wince at the uncomfortable texture. Q felt like she was drowning in sweat, her purple shirt sticking to her back, and the others didn’t look much better. Araria had been drinking water bottle after water bottle like it was no one’s business; Tobias was alternating between fanning himself with two paper fans and taking bites out of his sandwich; and Leah had forgone the half-sleeved shirt she was wearing for a loose crop top.

“It’s too hot in here,” Tytus complained. “I’m going back outside. At least there’s a breeze there.” He grabbed his plate and opened the porch door.

“Tytus, seriously?” Iris asked incredulously. “It’s over 100 degrees outside right now.” “Yeah, and it’s 100 degrees in here too.” Iris shook her head. “Q,” she said, “give this to him.” She handed Q a water bottle. Q grabbed her sandwich and drink and went to go sit with Tytus outside.

“Thanks for the water,” he hummed around his sandwich. “It’s really too hot to be outside,” Q said. “I repeat: it’s just as hot inside, dude.” Q wrinkled her nose. “Don’t call me dude, Tytus. We’ve been dating for like 6 months.”

“Really, dude? I don’t know what the problem is, dude.” He shot her a goofy grin and poked her in the side. She flinched away, shaking her hand back and forth a little. Tytus’s smile faltered. “You good?” “Uh, yeah,” she said. “I think I’m just a little overstimulated.” “Sorry,” Tytus said, moving a little further away from her so their sides were no longer touching. She smiled a little.

“Love you,” she mumbled.

“L’ve you too.” He blinked a little, leaning against the wall behind him. His eyebrows were creased. “Are you okay?” Q asked. He hummed in response, shrugging. “Tytus, seriously, you don’t look good.” He exhaled a laugh. “Very kind of you, sweet… uh sweetheart.” He blinked a little and put his sandwich back down on his plate. He had only taken a few bites. “I’m fine.” He sits up, blinking a little. “I’m going to dip my feet in the pool. It’s way too hot.”

He stood up and took a few steps towards the pool. Q watched, jumping up when he stumbled, his eyes rolling back and his face losing color. Her heart plummeted as his body went limp and hit the water. She froze for a moment; his body began to sink to the bottom of the pool.

Her brain whirled as the water from the splash touched her toes. She couldn’t save him; she could barely keep her head over water when she swam. She couldn’t even lift him out of the water. But he was going to die if she didn’t do anything. He was going to die. She was going to watch him die. Her breath turned sporadic, and her vision went blurry. She became distantly aware that there was noise around her. More water splashed her legs, making her back up. She hated the feeling of water on her skin. It mixed with the sweat that was building from the heat, making her feel sticky and gross. She kicked her legs out, trying to dry them off, and began rubbing them. When that didn’t work, she hit them, hard. It hurt but was nice in a way. Calming. She kept hitting her leg before something grabbed her arm and held it still. She whined, pulling at the thing, but that only made them hold tighter. She needed something, though. She felt like her body was freefalling. Realizing she was leaning against something hard, she pulled her head forward and banged it against the wall. It caused pain to flare from the back of her head, and she sighed in relief.

When she tried again, though, something soft blocked the path. Her throat hurt as she screamed in frustration. She couldn’t do anything. Whatever was holding her down was hurting her. She wanted it off. She wanted it off.

And then it was off. She had a moment of freedom, where she scratched at her leg, relaxing into the sharp pain. However, her relief was short-lived as something else was placed over her body. She tried to shake it off, pushing up on the weight. The weight didn’t move, though, instead gently putting pressure all over. Q felt her body relax a little, breathing heavily. Her eyes slowly cleared, and she could see Leah’s face hovering over where she was lying down. She didn’t remember lying down. “—Breaths, come on,” Leah was saying. She was breathing loudly, and Q felt her lungs following her. Her breathing slowly became more even and normal, and suddenly, Q remembered why she had been panicking in the first place.

She sat up, looking around wildly. Her eyes locked on the sight of Tytus lying on his back next to the pool as Iris was performing what looked like CPR. She pushed the weighted blanket off of her— that’s what had been placed on her, she realized belatedly— and ran towards him. Tobias was pacing back and forth, fiddling with his phone. Leah followed Q, kneeling next to her. “Iris has been performing CPR for maybe a minute. After they got him out, he wasn’t breathing. Tobias tried calling 911, but we don’t have any cell service anymore because the wifi is down with the power outage.”

Q didn’t respond; the words were stuck in her throat. That happened almost every time she had a meltdown: once she calmed down, the panic took her words with it. Instead, she placed her hand on his forehead. It was worryingly warm, but she couldn’t do anything about that right now. She began gently stroking his hair as his body moved with Iris’ compressions.

All of a sudden, there was a gasping sound, and Tytus began coughing, his body curling into himself. Iris pulled back and quickly moved him onto his side. Once in that position, he began to cough up water onto the concrete. Q instinctively jumped back to avoid getting hit before feeling slightly guilty and coming back to his other side.

Tytus continued coughing for what seemed like forever before slumping back on the ground. “Jeez,” he coughed out. His voice came out so scratchy that it made Q’s throat hurt. “Uuh, what- what happened?” They all turned toward Q, who realized that the others most likely didn’t know what happened. However, when she opened her mouth, no words came out. She let out a small sound of frustration, running back into the house and grabbing her phone. She prayed that it would work without service and opened up a communication app. When it loaded, she sagged in relief. It took a moment to type it all out, but eventually, a robotic woman’s voice left her phone.

“You went to get into the pool, but it looked like you fainted. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.” Tytus hummed, sitting up. Iris leaned forward and grabbed his arm to support him. “Don’t stand up yet, idiot.” “I feel the- feel the love, Iris.” Iris rolled her eyes in response to Tytus’ sarcasm. “You need to be slow. Honestly, I might have Tobias carry you to the car. I don’t feel like you should be walking after all that.” Q nodded in agreement. She stared at him for a moment too long before lunging forward and hugging him. He laughed a little, reaching one arm around and hugging her back. “I’m okay, Q. I’m right here.” She felt tears dripping down her face and onto his shoulder, as Leah gently pulled her back. “You don’t want to hurt him. Iris probably at least bruised his ribs doing CPR.” Q nodded in agreement, and they sat there for about 15 minutes as they allowed Tytus to recover a little. Iris said that they would need to go to the hospital as soon as possible, but right now, Tytus shouldn’t move too much. Once Tytus felt a little more stable, Tobias picked him up bridal style and carried him to the car. They blasted the AC in an attempt to cool him down, having decided that that was mostly likely what caused him to pass out. Only Iris, Q, and Tytus rode in the car; everyone else stayed behind to pack their things. Iris would come back after dropping Q and Tytus off at the emergency room to pick them up with all their things.

The drive back was long— almost an hour— and Q found herself rubbing her hands back and forth against the seat until her hands were rubbed raw. Tytus assured her that he was fine now, but he was still a little pale and sweating even after sitting in front of the AC.

Once they got back into a place where there was phone service, all of their phones rang with the same alert: Heat Advisory: Avoid being outside for extended periods of time. Exposing yourself to these temperatures may result in serious illness or death. After reading it, Iris groaned. “A few hours too late, phones.”


5’5”. That’s how tall I was the last time I marked my height on the dining room door frame. Mom used to get mad at my brother and I for making up her good door frame.            “Have y’all lost the good part of y’all’s mind!?” she’d exclaim as she watched in horror us having our height war. “Y’all better find some paint and fix it!”            So, we did. Every three months at the turn of the seasons my brother and I would mark our growth, write it down in a notebook, and paint back over it as if nothing happened. We would even use a fan to expedite the process to ensure that we didn’t get caught. I’m sure that even with all the precautions we took, the smell of fumes white paint stained hands and clothes gave it away. She probably got a good tickle out of our valiant efforts.            Walking through our childhood home felt different today though. The air wasn’t ripe with the smell of fresh baked bread. My dad’s favorite recliner wasn’t frozen in front of the t.v. with his seeming lifeless body in it “watching” Sunday football. My rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night was no longer proudly displayed on the wall of my old room. Everything felt so sterile.            I head back downstairs to the dining room where the height wars took place, hoping for some sense of normalcy. I again was met with change when I touched to door frame. There was no texture from the constant repainting. No discoloration from the different shades of white paint used. It was gone. A core childhood memory erased.            “What happened to the frame?” I ask turning to my dad.            “Your mom changed it out a little while ago. She felt it was time to let it go.” He replies coming into the dining room where in standing.            “So y’all just threw it away?” I ask still rubbing the door frame.            “It might be in the shed, buddy. I honestly have no idea what she did with it.”            I head out to the shed and lift up the door. It’s filled with all the antiques from our lives. Old toys; Old projects; Old clothes and blankets. Rifling through a couple of the boxes I find pictures of us on family trips, from birthdays, and random pictures taken around and about. I moved a few more around and found on labeled ‘Big Fella’ – my brother’s childhood nickname. I opened it and the first thing I saw was the yellow hat he wore everywhere until he went off to high school.            “You’re still out here?” My dad called to me as he made his way to the shed.            “Yea. I got distracted.” I say holding up Big Fella’s hat.            He gently takes the hat from my hand. “Yea, Big Fella didn’t go anywhere without that hat.”            “He sure didn’t.” I say smiling. “Is he coming?”

           “I don’t know.” My dad replied. “He hasn’t visited in a while.”            “I would kill for one of his stupid jokes right now.”            “Me too, Buddy.” He replies patting me on the shoulder.            We look through boxes for a little longer, laughing and reminiscing about the good old days. Some stories were near and dear to my heart. Others had been partially forgotten until my memory was jogged. Like the one Fourth of July when Big Fella and I were fighting and decided to settle it with a Roman Candle battle. Or the time he dared me to ride my bike down the steepest hill in the neighborhood and I scrapped all the skin on my knees off. I still have the scars to this day. Or the time in middle school when I caught him kissing a girl in the treehouse and he bribed me with chocolate not to tell. I told anyway.            An hour or two went by with us still rummaging through boxes and storytelling. I was distracted by the photos from our high school float trip when my dad called out to me.            “Hey, look what I found.” He says moving boxes and maneuvering to the left back corner of the shed.            I maneuver my way through the clutter to assist him in clearing a path. There, standing in the corner wrapped in bubble wrap was a piece of door frame. Perfectly preserved. I scratched off some of the old paint to reveal name and dated hash marks. The last time I was taller than Big Fella he was 12 and I was 9. I fully believed that I was going to be 6’2” and go to the Olympics for volleyball of play professional basketball. Instead, I stayed 5’5” and he went on to be 6’2”. Growing 10” after that last hash was marked. We grew distant in middle school and people didn’t even know we were siblings in high school.            I took a picture of the door frame before heading back in the house with my dad. I took one more look around. Reliving the memories as if our brains were the projector and our eyes were the light that made the picture.            “Are you sure you want to sell it?” I ask.            “Well, this is a lot of house for one person, ya know.” He replies.            “What are you going to do with all the stuff in the shed?”            “I’ll of course keep all the important stuff. Everything else is either getting donated, sold, or thrown out. Speaking of-” He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out Big Fella’s hat and reaches it out toward me. “He would want you to have this.”            I hold the hat in my hand, running my thumbs across the stitching. Anywhere

it reads. Tears well up in my eyes.            “I’m proud of you, buddy. I know he is too.” My dad says placing his hand on my shoulder and pulling me in for a hug. The tears I was trying to hold in now streaming from my face.            “Thanks, Dad.” I reply thorough sniffles.            We turn off all the lights and head out to lock up and leave. As he’s turning the key in the lock we hear tires screech to a stop and a car engine turn off. We turn around to see Big Fella walking up the pathway to the house.            “Long time no see. Sorry I’m late.” I says through a weary smile.            I stare at him for a second in shock. It has been five years since we’ve talked. Dad and I had reached out to him a couple weeks ago when mom passed but he hadn’t reached back. Dad walks up to him and embraces him in a tight as if to make up for all the hugs he hasn’t been able to give him over the years.            “Why are you standing over there, Buddy. Get in here.” Big Fella says gesturing me over.            We all stand there. Embracing each other in a hug that is greater than words for a few minutes.            “I see you’ve stolen my favorite hat.” He says after we all pull away.            “Oh, you can have if back if you want. I was just-”            “I’m kidding. I want you to have it.” He says with a big; goofy grin on his face. “Do you know why it was my favorite hat?” he asks.            “No. Why?” I inquire.            “Because it’s yellow and says anywhere on it.” He laughs            I roll my eyes and give him a playful punch as Dad laughs.            “No but on a serious note,” he redirects “It’s because it always reminded me that regardless of where life takes me the sun will always shine. That light follows those who dare to wander. That even in my darkest moments there’s always a silver lining somewhere.”            I take a second and ponder on that. “Here I was thinking you just liked it because it covered up that hideous hair cut you had as a kid.” I joked            Big Fella laughs and pulls me in for a playful nuggy.            “You guys already finished with the walk through?” he asks gesturing toward the house.            “Yea.” Dad replies “The movers are coming to empty out the shed in the morning. You kids can help me decide what to keep and what to throw out once it’s moved to my new place.”            Big Fella and I agree and we walk down the pathway to our cars.            “You guys want to grab dinner and catch up?” He asks nervously.            “Absolutely.” Dad and I says smiling.            We plan to meet at our favorite restaurant before he drives off. I look back at the house one last time trying to cement all the good old memories in my mind. Everything that I am today came from that house. My competitiveness; my problem solving ability all came from this house. And as sad as I am to see it go, I’m grateful for all the lessons it taught me.            “Are you coming?” My Dad calls to me.            “Yea.” I says nodding to the house to pays my last respects.