I’m very happy with myself. This idea just hit me after my job interview today, and I’ve already got about ten pages worth for it. This, of course, is just a snippet. I even researched a couple things to make sure I wasn’t just talking out of my ass. xD

-

Weston leaned forward on the picnic table, holding a half-full bottle of water in front of him. As soon as they’d gotten home his dad had dropped the nice father routine and jumped into his role of doctor, making sure he was drinking plenty of water. He was a little irked, but he did as told, for he knew it was necessary to get back on his feet.

“So… Tawny? How old is she?” his father asked conversationally as he grilled, glancing at his youngest son over his shoulder.

Weston smirked a tad before answering, “Twenty-one.”

His father spluttered, and Weston laughed. “She looked your age!” he said, much as Weston himself had earlier that day.

“Mm,” he hummed in agreement. “She’s in college,” he supplied further.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on your brother tonight,” his father said, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “If he comes home.”

Weston frowned. His brother was… well, he loved his brother, but it was more of an obligatory love, because he was his brother. He could be quite the asshole. He was in college, and was a smart kid, but… he was an asshole. A ladies’ man, he liked to party and get drunk, but somehow managed to keep up his grades. But it was the former quality that had both Weston and his father so worried. If Shawn did come home for supper (which he probably would; everyone in their family loved Walden Breton’s steak and potatoes), he would start in on Tawny in a New York minute…

Just then the doorbell rang, and Walden and Weston grinned at each other before they both went for the door. Weston already knew he liked Tawny, and obviously his father had taken a liking to her, as well. Even though they knew next to nothing about her…

Upon opening the door, both Breton men were surprised.

“Hello. Thank you for inviting us to your home…” Tawny said, smiling slightly and bowing a bit.

“Thank you!” piped in another voice. This voice came from a tiny girl clinging to Tawny’s back for a piggyback ride. She looked like a miniature version of Tawny to a ‘T,’ but with much longer hair. Rather than the many shades of green, her hazel eyes had more browns, and they were big and expressive. She grinned at the two men in front of her, and they saw she was missing a tooth on the top and bottom of her mouth.

The little girl slid down her sister’s back and held up a hand to shake. “My sister Tawny and I are very pleased to meet you, and thank you very much for inviting us over,” she said. Walden grinned and took her hand before Weston did the same. The little girl had obviously practiced her little intro before hand, for she said it with surety, but still with the underlying ‘accent’ of a child. “I am Celia Powell.”

“What a well-mannered peach,” Walden chuckled, moving aside to let the girls in. As Tawny passed him with a sheepish smile and a soft ‘thank you,’ he whispered to her as he shut the door, “I’ll be honest in saying I think my son and I assumed your sister was…”

“Older?” She laughed. “That’s why I was a bit leery about her coming here… She means well, but she can be quite the handful.”

“You watch her a lot?” Weston asked, and she looked away toward Celia before nodding.

“Your parents must be real proud of you for keeping an eye on her,” Walden added, ushering them onto the porch so he could finish grilling. In so doing, both he and Weston missed the look that crossed her face.

When she didn’t say anything, Walden turned to her as he opened up the grill again. “There’s a swing set if you’d like to go and play, Celia,” he told her gently, pointing out into the yard. “Dinner will be a bit, yet.”

She squealed happily and thanked him, and would have run down the porch steps, but she instead went to Tawny and asked, “Taw’, can I?”

“Of course,” she smiled, brushing her fingers through her little sister’s hair gently before patting her back, gently directing her to the yard. “Go have fun.” She jumped up and lightly pecked her older sister on the cheek before scurrying down the steps and to the swings.

Not looking away from the grill, Walden continued. “You don’t live with your parents and take care of her yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

So insightful, Dad, Weston thought. He wouldn’t have caught that at all, but by the look on Tawny’s face, he guessed his dad had hit the nail on the head. “How old is she?” Weston asked softly.

“Six and three quarters,” she chuckled, watching as Celia began by swinging on her stomach. “As she is so fond of reminding me…”

“Why aren’t your parents watching her?” he asked without thinking. His dad glared at him lightly over Tawny’s head. Weston shrugged sheepishly at him

Guessing at the exchange, Tawny sighed. “No, it’s fine. Uh… Well, they weren’t the greatest; we’ll leave it there. So when I turned eighteen we moved here and I took her with me. It was a messy legal battle, but in the end it was decided I was a better guardian for her. I had already raised her practically by myself, as is.” She shrugged and looked them both squarely in the eyes.

“But you’re in school, right? How—?”

“I work when not in school, and she’s in school or daycare herself, otherwise.” 1 week ago

He heaved in as much air in as few breaths as he could, trying not to draw attention to him while also trying to get his energy back. But a sob wracked through his frame again, and he let the bloodied sword drop from his hand and collapsed to the ground. Zane saw the image fly before his eyes over and over: Nekane shoving him through the portal back home; the look on her face that went against her normally dour and irritable attitude by showing concern, for him or her he didn’t know; and the ablaze blade that cleanly sliced through her gut just before the world was engulfed in white and he was back home, so unfairly far from where he was desperately needed. And the portal had closed.

He knew that she was gone. Even a demon surely couldn’t live through a flaming sword in the middle, could they? He could tell himself otherwise, but the false hope gave him little solace. And so he grieved, not knowing what to do now that his mission had failed.

Rain pelted the back of his shirt, soaking him through quickly even though he’d only been sitting there mere minutes. He didn’t even know where he was; Nekane had simply said the portal was fairly near to where she thought he lived. A fact that had given him little confidence at the time, but now he couldn’t care less. He felt sick to his stomach, and hugged his middle tightly as if to keep his innards from spilling out of his own gut.

“Z?” a soft voice called to him over the rain, and he jerked up, hand reflexively reaching for Draig sitting on the wet grass next to him before he saw who had spoken.

Haze stood over him, seemingly much taller than usual considering Zane’s position on the ground. He had the hood of his rain jacket over his head and was holding his oversize umbrella over Zane, a look of awe on his face.

Haze hadn’t been sure that it was his brother; it’s hard to tell when the person is huddled in a lump on the ground. Haze still wasn’t sure it was Zane, for his eyes were wide and wild, and a heavy sadness was etched deep into his face. Seeming to realize how he probably looked to his little brother, Zane hurriedly looked away.

Looking around, making sure to keep his eyes firmly trained on anything and everything but Haze, Zane realized he was, indeed, very near to his house. They were sitting in Douty Park, a small playground and some picnic tables that he used to pass when he walked home from school everyday as a kid, much like his brother did now.

Getting unsteadily to his feet, Zane turned to Haze, still not looking him in the eye, and gently took the umbrella from his hand. He knelt down and motioned for Haze to hop on his back. Haze was shocked, for Zane hadn’t initiated a piggy back ride in years, but because of the odd situation he gladly clung to a familiar comfort and hopped on, not even noticing the blade that Zane retrieved from the ground and slid into a sheath at his hip. Zane silently thanked his lucky stars that the rain had washed the majority of the blood away before Haze could have seen it. Letting the umbrella rest on its own on top of his head, Zane used both hands to secure Haze’s position on his back and trudged toward home.

Haze had wrapped his arms around Zane’s neck tightly, unnerved by his normally confident brother’s subdued attitude. He was about to ask him what was wrong when he felt something drip on his hands. Assuming it was water, the young boy leaned forward to wipe away the moisture that, he presumed, dripped from his brother’s hair, and saw instead tears rolling down his strong brother’s cheeks. Retreating back into his former position, Haze gave Zane a small kiss on the cheek before hugging him even tighter, feeling his brother’s shoulders begin to quake with soft sobs.

Zane was his big brother, and was therefore his role model and solid rock to lean on when he himself felt down. So he promised he would give what little comfort he could, and he wouldn’t say a word to anyone about his brother’s moment of weakness. He knew Zane kept a pretty good fake face when it came to most others, and he didn’t want that carefully crafted disguise to be found out as a lie. While it was only minor, he knew Zane’s reputation was at stake.

Besides, you never want anyone to know you’ve cried. That was something better left alone. Haze had learned as much when their papa had left them. 4 weeks ago

“And here I thought you were a bad-ass or something.” Gina sighed sadly as she watched Drake shoveling snow across the street from her vantage point at her friend’s house.

“He IS still a bad-ass. He just doesn’t do what we thought he did,” Christie replied, handing Gina a mug of hot chocolate.

It had been under the assumption (by the whole school, no less) that Drake, resident keep-to-yourself-guy, was a kid with street smarts and attitude, and who was seen shoveling snow because it was used as punishment for his punk adventures. Gina and Christie had both simply assumed it was community service. That had been dashed when, the night before, Gina had run into Drake just starting to shovel at the same house he was currently still at.

They had both exchanged pleasantries, since they knew each other from school so it was simply common courtesy, when finally Gina bolstered up the courage to simply ask, “So, what did you do this time?”

“Pardon?” he’d asked, giving her an odd look. He still shoveled, hauling the snow out into the small yard and off the concrete driveway.

“Well…” Gina fumbled for words, a blush colored her cheeks an even brighter red than they had been from the cold. “You were shoveling somewhere else last week. Uh, supposedly, I wasn’t watching you or anything—”

“Yeah, that was my place. Now I’m here.”

“Right.” Gina had huffed, shrugged her shoulders and asked again, “So what didja do?”

“I’m still not following you, uhm…”

“Gina,” she supplied.

“Right. What are you getting at?”

“What got you into trouble now that you have to shovel again?” she finally had asked, her arms raising in exasperation.

It had started to snow again, and Drake looked skyward (possibly asking for help to get away from Gina, or just to look at the snow) before he had looked back to her. He pulled his scarf away from his mouth and had asked, slowly and with a hint of annoyance, “You think I’m doing this because I got in trouble?”

“Well…”

“This is my grandma’s place,” he said, and had pointed to the house behind him. “She’s old, and doesn’t get around as well as she used to, so I come over and help out when I can. I’ve never been in trouble in my life. Not the way you seem to think I have been, anyway.”

“O-oh,” she’d stuttered, and waved her hands apologetically, “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, honest!”

“No, I know,” he’d sighed, and pulled his scarf back up. “I’ve got the face for it, so I can’t blame people for thinking that way.”

And he did. His face had no trace of baby fat like Gina’s still seemed to, looking as if it were chiseled from stone. He even had a scar to go with the bad boy visage over his left eye. A dark brow rested over darker eyes, which seemed to always be narrowed. Overall his face simply had a scary look about it, and that was when the assumptions had started.

“I’m so sorry, Drake, I don’t even know why I asked…”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m used to it.” He’d smirked.

Just then the door to the house had opened and Drake’s grandmother, or that’s what Gina had assumed (though considering where that had gotten her so far…), stepped out in a bath robe and slippers. “Oh, you’re still here, good!” she’d called.

“Go back inside!” he cried, and had looked astonished as he ran over to her. “Dressed like that, you’ll die out here!”

“Nonsense.” Then she took his hand and placed what looked like money in his hand. Gina couldn’t tell from the sidewalk where she still stood. “Here, this is for you.”

“I already told you I don’t…”

“Nonsense,” she said again, smiling. “You come over here without my even asking and shovel my walk for me! Better yet,” she laughed, patting his shoulder as a look of pain crossed his face at her next words, “I scarcely know you!”

The two had talked a bit more before Drake’s grandma walked back inside. Drake had sighed then, his breath coming forth even from behind his scarf, as he walked back to his previous position.

At the perplexed expression Gina had then given him, he shrugged sadly. “She has Alzheimer’s. Won’t let us do anything for her, the few of us she still remembers. She has trouble with things that’ve happened in the last twenty years or so. So she doesn’t really remember us grand kids.”

“Drake, I’m sorry,” Gina had whispered, hoping her feelings showed. She really had no response for the sad tale.

“Not your fault,” he’d replied, and with a tiny crinkling of his eyes – a smile – he went back to his shoveling, and Gina had left him to it. 4 months ago

“Wish I knew where the hell he went,” Jay mumbled, idly doodling varying sizes of swirls on a sticky note. While physically she was present at work, sitting at her desk in a seemingly productive position, her mind was elsewhere. Kelsey looked over the short wall separating their ‘offices’ and shrugged her shoulders.

“He’s a guy, Jay-Jay. Probably AWOL or something.” She tossed a pen over the wall, and Jay caught it, twirling it about her fingers. She gave Kelsey a confused look.

“AWOL?”

“Away with other ladies,” her friend explained, counting off on her fingers for each word.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what that stands for,” she snorted, tossing the pen back over to continue their game. Kelsey caught it easily and smiled sheepishly. “And that in no way made me feel better.”

“Wasn’t meant to,” she shot back, bouncing the pen off her desk and over the wall again. Jay snagged it out of the air just before it landed.

“Seriously, though,” Jay said, throwing the pen so it somersaulted in the air. Kelsey had to lean back abruptly in order to catch it. “He’s never just up and disappeared in all the years I’ve known him without an explanation…” Lost in thought, Jay didn’t see the pen flying back at her until it smacked her in the nose. Jerking back sharply in a delayed reaction, she pushed her chair so far back it hit the opposite wall loudly. “Dammit Kelsey-!”

“Hey!” Both women turned to look at Jay’s other office neighbor, Carrie. The pen must have been flung back at her after Jay’s quick movement, because she held it in her hand, and her freckled face was pinched in annoyance. “Unlike you two, I’ve got work to do, so could you please keep it down?” She chucked the pen over Jay’s head, almost hitting Kelsey in the face as well if she hadn’t caught it.

Kelsey smiled. “You should play with us! You’re good-”

“Sorry Carrie, we’re done,” Jay interrupted, turning to give her friend a mild glare. 4 months ago

The scenery, the flora and fauna, was so vastly different than anything he’d ever seen. He was truly grateful that Nekane had told him to bring his camera. He’d been cautious at first – it was, after all, his CAMERA, what he hoped to make a possible career out of and was therefore expensive – but now that he was here… ‘No one will think the photos are real,’ he thought sadly.

The greens were so deep and rich he could almost taste the color in the air. The ground, though looking parched in this area, was still a nice cocoa brown. He knelt down and felt the earth, sifting it through his fingers. It was soft, unpolluted and pure. As pure as dirt could be, anyway.

But the plants… he longed to reach out and stroke the trunk of a tree, to grasp a large leaf in hand, but being somewhere so foreign, he wasn’t sure what was safe to touch. Or taste. What looked to be fruit clung to spindly branches on some trees, and suddenly again remembering his camera he pulled it out of his case and snapped some photos. He had brought multiple memory cards with him, so that he could take as many pictures as he pleased while here. He wasn’t sure how much time he would have to sight see on their mission, but…

He sighed, then sniffed tentatively. He couldn’t tell if the air was thicker here or just cleaner. He took a deep breath through his nose and sighed out slowly through his mouth. The air definitely had something to it that his world certainly did not, but he couldn’t place it. He was thankful it wasn’t poisonous or anything like that; he’d been worried that only demons could breathe the, what he had imagined was, putrid air of the demonic realm.

As if reading his thoughts, Nekane turned to him and smirked. “Breathe too deep and you’ll become one with the air, Zane.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. Stowing his camera for the time being, but leaving the zipper open for easy access, Zane hurried until he was in step with the demon once more. “So… what exactly are we doing here first?” He wanted to see everything, but he also knew they were in the middle of something important. It was damn hard to keep focused though. He continued to turn his head, eventually turning his whole body to take in the sights around him as he listened to Nekane’s response.

“I have an acquaintance a few miles from here. He’ll be able to help us.”

“Uh-huh…” Zane was obviously not giving his full attention. He’d spotted a strange bird clinging to the side of one of the fruit-bearing trees, and Nekane was now ahead of him as he stopped to look. It appeared to be some kind of woodpecker. Making sure the flash was off so the creature didn’t startle, he again pulled out his camera and took a picture, looking down at the screen to see the shot.

It was a bright scarlet bird, with black feet and long claws on the toes to help it remain upright upon the bark of the tree. It’s tail and wings hand black and white feathers intermittently mixed in with the red, and its eyes shone black as pitch, glittering the sunlight that filtered through the canopy of leaves.

“Say…” he called, and Nekane, suddenly realizing she was alone on the path, turned to see him staring down at his camera in front of the bird, still perched on the tree. “What type of bird is this?”

“A Finny-Picker.” At the odd look he gave her she smirked again. “Finny-Picker’s pick at Finny trees.” She pointed to the tree he stood in front of. “That’s a Finny tree,” she explained unnecessarily.

Still Zane was fascinated. “Why?” he asked, turning again to look at the bird and the tree it rested on.

“Why does your woodpecker peck at trees?” she retorted, shrugging, seeming to have read his mind yet again. He turned to her again. “Rather than the fruits only having seeds, Finny trees have seeds in the bark, as well. Lots of animals eat the bark because of the nutrients inside of it, because the fruits are more often than not unfit to eat. The bark is safer.”

“Huh…” He whistled softly in awe, and the bird, not enjoying the sound despite all the talking, flit off into the distance. 5 months ago

The trees were starting to complain again at the lack of rain. Or at least, he imagined they were. The year had already been full of some of the oddest weather, although scorching heat wasn’t so odd for the summer…

His mother’s flowers were wilting under the relentless heat as well, despite being watered what felt like constantly. And her clamadis had already died. “I need to take that back to the store and get another one. It didn’t even last a year!” The dead flower was still sitting in a grocery bag waiting to be returned. Poor plant.

Josh sniffed, enjoying the fresh air but also wishing it wasn’t so damn hot out. It wouldn’t be such a problem if he hadn’t lost his key, and now he had to wait on the front steps of the complex for either the building manager or Trish to come home. God knew about the manager, and Trish wouldn’t be back from work until after five. Josh checked his watch. It was only 3:30.

“God it’s hot…” He leaned backwards to lay on the steps, stretching much like a cat as he did. Then he thought better of it and sat up. The concrete was way too hot. 10 months ago

After twenty minutes of chasing a laughing madman through the streets, James was exhausted. His lungs felt ready to burst and his legs were going to collapse any minute. And yet his mentor, thirty years (at least) his senior, was still moving forward as if this were a everyday occurrence.

Alan fired fired his pistol again in the lunatic’s direction as he turned yet another corner, still laughing. The sound echoed in the alley ways of the city.

“Alan, for the love of God, haven’t we-”

“Quiet.” They stopped and listened, no longer hearing their target’s footsteps. Alan sniffed the air and said with a bit of surprise, “He’s afraid,” and then was on the move again.

“you can actually smell fear?” James asked dubiously, trying to keep up. Alan snorted.

“Of course not, you fool. My nose is plugged from this damn city smog. I can tell by his movements.”

“And here I thought you were a bloodhound.” 12 months ago

I had been perfectly fine with just moping around the school after eating lunch. It was my regular routine, and also helped me work off the weight of all the food. I would end up feeling gorged without the walk.

But today, instead of taking a leisurely stroll through the halls and out on the grounds, I was instead hauled—dragged through hallways and doorways.

Damn it anyhow, I thought, sighing as I slouched in my chair in the empty club room.

Lin had taken way too much from our conversation. It was almost way too Suzumiya for me. Sure, let her like music, and sure, let her want to be in a band. But for the love of God, did she have to drag me along, too?

“I barely know you!” I had shouted at her, my feet tripping over each other in an attempt to keep up. Her grip around my forearm was vice-like, painful, and unrelenting. We were maneuvering up the stairs of the music and arts building, and I had a sneaking suspision as to where she was headed.

“Who cares? You bring it up, you help, lackey!”

“What?!”

And so I ended up sitting in the old band room. They had since built a new addition to the building, and that was where the band, jazz band, etc. would meet up for classes and practices.

I huffed, looking around at the old equipment. Now this room was mainly storage, with old instruments that the school had once supplied when the band was smaller. A couple drum sets, some with punctured tops, sat in a corner, while a piano sat in another. There was even an old keyboard, some guitars and a few brass and woodwinds in here, too.

What a waste… must be something wrong with them, I thought, standing and walking over to the piano. I had my own keyboards at home, and my mother had a grand piano in the sitting room. It was the only instrument I knew how to play.

The seat was covered in dust, so I brushed it off quick before taking a seat. Just as I was lifting the lid over the keys, the door slammed into the wall and bounced back. it almost hit Lin in the face.

I almost wish it had.

“Hey! I found some kids that can join us in the band!” she said, pushing two students, a boy and a girl, into the room.

Totally getting a Suzumiya feeling from this.

Instead out loud I asked, “So where’d you kidnap these two from?”

The boy laughed and rubbed his arm nervously, stepping away from Lin in a hurried way. “Lin kind-of just saw us walking and asked us, “Hey, you play an instrument?” We both said yes and then she drug us here.” He sighed with an exasperated smile and nodded his head toward me. “I’m Josh. This is my sister Jamie.”

The girl looked over at me, her eyes wide and her body shaking. Obviously she was a bit shaken by Lin’s brash behavior.

“Great! So you can be on keyboard,” she said, pointing at me rudely.

“Excuse me—?”

“And you play what?” she asked, ignoring me and turning to Jamie.

She jumped. “Um, ah, I play… I play a little bass—”

“Perfect! And you play drums, right Josh?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Then I’ll play lead guitar and be the lead vocals, and you guys can—”

“Would you hold on for a minute please?” I begged. She was whipping all this out so quickly, I couldn’t understand how Josh was keeping up. And poor Jamie looked like she might fall over.

A band? This was just too sudden and silly.

“What’s your problem, Troy? It was your idea, too!”

Like I knew you’d take it way too far!14 months ago

(I’m slacking in these, but… ffff too late.)

“Are you sure we won’t get caught? I don’t want to start my criminal record at sixteen…” Cherie fretted, her hands wringing in her skirt.

“It’s a shopping cart. Relax. We’ll bring it back when we’re done, so get a grip.”

“What if someone comes out to stop us, though? Seriously, Dee, I don’t want to get yelled at.”

Dee snorted and, more-so because Cherie had brought it up than him actually being worried, looked around, back and forth, before snagging one of the carts from the outside rack in the parking lot. “Seriously, it’s not gonna be a problem. The cart guys never do a good job of this, anyway.”

“You’re one of the cart guys,” she reminded him, smiling as she walked next to him.

“Eh.”

They pushed the cart out of the parking lot and toward the hill next to it. It wasn’t especially steep, and it was paved for who knew what reason, but the cart would glide over it long enough for some fun, and there were minimal cracks. Nothing to stop it or cause an extremely jerky ride.

Once Dee got to the perfect spot he stopped, trying to hold the cart still so he could climb into it. “Wait a sec, let me hold it,” Cherie said, gripping the handle before the shopping cart slid away from them both.

“Thanks.” He’d settled into a half crouch, one leg underneath him and the other bent. He gripped the side with one hand and raised the other over his eyes as he scanned the horizon. The sun was setting and it was bright, but that made it more fun.

Ha-ha, riding off into the sunset.

“You ready?” Cherie asked, bracing herself against the concrete. She was much faster than Dee, and so she would be the one to run. And, while Dee wouldn’t admit it and Cherie resisted saying so to spare his pride, she was also stronger.

“Aye-aye, Cap’n. On the count of three! O—”

“Three!” she laughed giddily, well before he was finished, and took off at a quick sprint.

“Woah-woah-woah, slow down, Silver!” Dee shouted, the wind whipping his hair. He was joking, of course, and Cherie knew it. He still kept his hand over his eyes to see, while Cherie had her’s closed, enjoying the feel of just running, really running for the first time in so long. This was something that made her miss being on the track team.

Maybe that’s why Dee had us come out and do this today…

“Y’gonna hop on?! We’re gonna run out of concrete!” Dee hollered, snapping Cherie out of her thoughts.

Laughing delightedly Cherie allowed her feet to fly upward, missing the feeling of pounding down on the hard ground, and let them land on the bottom bar of the cart. She raised one arm over her head, fist clenched, and she gave a hoot of excitement.

“Woo-hoo!” both of the teens cried out together, both now with an arm raised in the air. This was the closest they would get to flying, and how exhilarating it was.

Dee turned his head just the slightest bit, enough to see the most beautiful grin he’d ever seen on Cherie’s blushing face, and with a smile of his own he reached back and clasped her hand with his own.

The answering squeeze he received spoke volumes, but most prominent was Thank you.14 months ago

A stabbing pain ripped through my gut and I wheezed, doubling over in sheer agony as I clutched my stomach. My teeth were gritting together so hard that my ears were starting to ring. What in the world was going on?! This frickin’ hurt!

“Hey, what the hell are you doing? Are you all right?” Jason asked, kneeling next to me and grabbing my shoulders. “Dude, what’s going on?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t form words. All I could do was shake my head and huff, pressing my forehead on the cold tile of the floor. “W-well, we need to get to a doctor or something, right? C’mon, we gotta get you up!”

Jason one of his arms around my shoulder blades and the other underneath me, trying to hoist me up. Moving was torture. I don’t care how bad it was – I could NOT move. “C-can’t…”

“Dude, don’t even! We need to! I know it hurts, but it’ll get worse if we don’t move you!”

He jerked me up suddenly and I yelled at him to stop, but he kept dragging me to the door.

Next thing I knew I was waking up to a white ceiling on starchy, itchy sheets. I went to scratch my arm and felt something stuck to it, so I lifted my head to get a look. Turns out an I.V. was sticking out of it. I huffed and plopped my head back down on the pillow.

“Aw, dude, thank God you’re awake!” I looked over to see Jason sitting in the corner of the small room, looking tired and ragged but none the less happy to see I was… well, I’m guessing alive.

”’Ey dude…” I said weakly, my voice sounding hoarse and my mouth feeling like it was just stuffed with cotton. Jason smirked and carried his chair over to the bed, then reached over to the table next to the bed for a cup of water.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me. Then he paused and pulled it back. “Wait, y’need help with it?”

“Nah,” I laughed, reaching for it with my I.V. free hand. My bed was propped up enough so that I didn’t spill all over myself, and when I was done I handed the water back. “Thanks, man.”

“Sure thing. You feelin’ all right now? It was sounding pretty touch-and-go there for awhile…”

“What happened, exactly?” I asked. Sure I was in the hospital and had an I.V. in my arm but that didn’t explain much for me.

“Appendicitis. Dude, frickin’ doctor made us wait three hours before he would even touch you, and then another doctor had to come in anyway! I ended up finding him at his frickin’ desk with his feet up, checkin’ out the damn nurses. What the hell? I mean, how’s that guy even a damn doctor?!”

“Seriously? What an ass,” I sighed. Thank God that other doctor came in, then! I’d be long gone if he hadn’t. “So, appendicitis, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, angry tone gone from his voice. He looked at me seriously and huffed. “You’re mom’s on the way, by the way.”

“Damn it,” I cursed, scratching my head awkwardly. “What’s she comin’ for?”

“They gotta have family, dude. D’you know how hard it was for them to even let ME in here? I almost wish I had just said I was y’damn brother or something.”

“Hey, you got me here and helped me LIVE, dude. You’re totally my brother,” I said, smiling.

He smiled back and lifted his fist so we could do our fist bump. “Thanks, man. I’m just glad you’re all good now.”

“You and me both.” I leaned back into the stiff pillow and tried to roll my shoulders. “So, how long we been here, anyway?”

“Aw hell, man, I don’t even remember…” He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, it’s three in the morning now, and you fell over, what… at six-ish?”

“Damn,” I huffed, surprised. “Why didn’t you go home and SLEEP, man?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t wanna be here alone when I woke up!”

“Good point… really man, thanks a lot.”

“Don’t sweat it. You just owe me one.” 15 months ago

The room was a source of torment, of horror, but for some was a sanctuary.

Every wall, even the ceiling, compromised of mirrors. In the center of the room was a wooden stool painted white, and every time one of the patients entered the room it didn’t seem like the paint ever aged. Perhaps it was repainted constantly, because who the hell knew what fluids and other nasty substances covered that stool every time a patient was forced into the room.

The room was there for various purposes. Sometimes it was used to make women see that they were, in fact, beautiful. They simply had to stare at their bodies, naked and quaking in fear, for hours until they accepted it. Sometimes it was for the exact opposite purpose; you’re ugly, scum of the earth, lower than the worms in the dirt.

Sometimes Jews were placed in the room and told that Hitler was right in what he’d attempted – that they were vermin and should be exterminated. Sometimes They placed little girls that had been raped on the stool, nude and fearful and distraught, and after telling them that it either was or wasn’t their fault that man had touched them in such a manner, they had to sit and accept.

The room was used for criminals, victims, people that They simply wanted to either help or torture. No one knew the original intent for the room, other than now it was simply a tool, and They used it.

Such was the treatment and the way the room worked.

And here Louis sat, cold and shaking and wishing They’d at least give him a God damn blanket, and not even knowing why he was there.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had an idea… or… he thought he did. Why was he here again?

He sighed and lifted his foot to place on one of the wooden bars attaching the legs of the stool together. He wondered if the mirrors were like the ones in cop shows – They could see in, but he couldn’t see them. Perverts, thought Louis. He moved his knees together in an attempt to cover himself anyway, whether They looked or not.

Standing, he went to where he’d come in. The ‘door’ seemed to mold into the rest of the mirror wall, and there was no door knob on his side. He pressed where the knob should have been, and when that yielded no reaction but to leave his hand print on the mirror he stepped back.

Was there no way out? 15 months ago

The cat purred four times and hissed once, then turned to stare out the window as it had been doing moments before. Four thirty already. That meant the meeting was starting.

“Oh,” Opi huffed, realizing he was actually supposed to be at the meeting. Standing quickly from his plush velvet chair, he walked past the cat and pet its head quickly before continuing on. He grabbed his coat from the coat rack and his dusty blue top hat from the top of the rack before opening his closet door, having pulled the handle upward rather than down, and walking inside.

Everyone was already seated in their respective chairs, except for himself. Quietly shutting the door behind him, Opi casually walked to the empty chair – his chair, a seat that looked more throne-like than chair – and sat, resting both legs over the arm of the chair. His feet knocked into Francesca, sitting next to him on a simple green dining room seat, and she turned sharply and glared at him. He smiled languidly and looked down toward the head of the table.

Gavin sat at the head on a blue chair compromising of two large spheres, one for the seat and the other for the backrest. His white-gloved hands were folded together with his chin resting on them on top of the table. His white suit, typically impeccable, was sliced in various places, and his own white top hat was askew on his head.

And he looked positively calm, and was staring straight at Opi.

“Now that we’re finally all here,” he said quietly, and Opi had to suppress a snort. It’s not like he’d been extremely late… “I have a issue that’s in desperate need of addressing.”

“Gavin,” Raltz interrupted him quickly, raising his hand as if a child in school. Gavin’s gaze swiftly focused in on Raltz, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table, and lazily motioned for him to continue. “May we ask what happened to you first?” He moved his hand to the ring on his thumb, twirling it round in a manner that everyone at the table knew as a sign he was thinking. His eyes, steely grey with questions burning in them, stared back at Gavin’s always blankly staring ones. “Your attire is rather odd for you; something serious must have happened to cause this slovenly behavior.”

Opi again suppressed a snort. Slovenly? He merely had his suit coat torn in places; it wasn’t as if he was sitting there nude or, worse yet, wearing a dress off of a dirty stripper covered in all manner of questionable fluids and disease.

“That is part of the issue. Someone here,” he began, looking at all twelve of them in turn, “has taken my cat.”

Everyone gasped at the table, even Opi. This was serious.

“But who could have?!” Francesca asked, shoving Opi’s feet away from her as she waved her arms. “None of us even know where you live, Gavin, let alone what your cat even looks like.”

“Someone must have, though, because the cat I found when I returned home this morning,” he said as he gestured toward his tattered suit, “looked exactly like Elijah, but attacked me as I went to pet him.”

“I thought we weren’t aloud to touch each others’ cats?” Opi piped up, also raising his hand as he spoke with his eyebrow raised. “Plus, as Francesca said, none of us know your cat by looks; how would we know and have a replacement at the ready?”

“Could someone else have seen Elijah?” asked Jeen, leaning forward so as to be seen. Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Unheard of!” shouted Knice, slamming the table with the flat of his hand as he did. Knice was the oldest of them, and though his namesake sounded otherwise, he was far from nice. He rested his elbow on the table and rolled his wrist in a lackadaisical manner, giving Jeen a look that clearly said he was daft. “Our cats are sacred to us, Jeen, and are the source of our essence. No one else could have possibly seen him.”

“Merely a suggestion, brother Knice,” Jeen replied, holding up his hands in defense.

Suddenly, from next to Raltz, who recoiled at the movement, Dredge stood on top of his seat. No one really knew why Dredge was in their little group, other than they needed thirteen and he was like them in the barest sense. He sat on a seat so similar to a toilet that it probably was one, and looked just as disgusting. Worst of all, Dredge always had his cat with him – an orange tabby with one green eye, the other blind. He was a short man who dressed in rags that were surprisingly clean and was almost as old as Knice.

“Well,” Dredge began, his German accent thick in his speech, “did you maybe forget to feed him, and so he was angry with you?”

Silence filled the small room, and Dredge looked unblinkingly down at Gavin. Here they had all been expecting a nugget of wisdom from the usually silent old man, and he comes up with that?

Gavin blinked numbly back at him before a grin split his face, and then he threw his head back in raucous laughter, his sharpened teeth gleaming in the bright light. “Ha, Dredge, you doddering old fool!” he chortled, standing from his own seat and strolling to the door. He knocked on it twice before opening it and entering, disappearing for but a moment before returning with a squirming feline under his arm. Unceremoniously he tossed it on the table, making everyone near it shove back in their seats. It hissed violently at them.

“This thing,” Gavin continued, pointing to the cat on the table, “May look very much like Elijah, but is nowhere near him. In fact, it’s not even male!”

The cat turned and glared with bright silver eyes – eyes that matched Gavin’s, its supposed master, as all the cats did – at Gavin. “You’re as much of a fool as your cat!” she hissed in the cat’s tongue, and everyone at the table gasped again.

“It spoke!”

“To all of us!”

“But how?!”

“Exactly what I want to know,” Gavin said, striding to the table and picking the female cat up by her neck. She hissed again. “You should only be able to be understood by your master, vermin,” he said, eyes narrowed. “How is it we understand you?”

“When stolen from our masters, we are able to speak to all of you,” she said, swatting her paw at his arm. He released her, and she landed on her feet on the table. “Until returned to our original master, we must serve whomever has stolen us. So asking me who has done this and stolen Elijah is useless.”

“How have we never heard of this before?” Raltz asked.

She raised a white-footed paw and placed it on her head, a cat-like smirk on her face. “You’ve never let each other see your cats before, yes? So your stupidity is due to lack of… experience, in a sense.” She licked her paw and leg, using it to clean her black face. She was all black except for her paws and the tip of her tail.

So this was what Gavin’s cat looked like?

“Stupidity,” scoffed Knice and Gilbert simultaneously. “We’ve no need to steal each others’ cats. What’s the point?” Gilbert asked.

“The point…” she said, turning to him with a sly glance, “is that if you have another master’s cat, you practically hold his or her life in your hands.”

Dredge’s tabby purred five times. Five o’clock. 15 months ago

Bridgette sighed, twirling the ribbon around her ear absently as Bartholomew continued to whine about the injustice of life and how horses could be extremely stupid. Hector replied by saying bats were just as stupid, seeing as they slept upside down of all things and obviously didn’t know how to use a bed.

“But horses sleep standing up!” Bartholomew responded, pointing his claw at Hector.

“We can sleep laying down, too, though,” Hector replied snobbishly, puffing at Bartholomew and sending him sprawling back. It was times like these that Bartholomew truly despised being a bat; they were far too small. Or, horses were simply too damned large.

The banter was ridiculous, but seeing as how she was neither a bat nor a horse, Bridgette found herself not caring in the least. She sighed again and stood up, turning to hop away from the two bickering boys.

“Bridge, where are you going?” Hector said immediately, trotting after her.

“You two are worse than an octopus who doesn’t know how to use his legs. I don’t feel like listening to you complain about the others’ species.”

Bartholomew flew over to her, setting down and then walking shakily on his small feet, trying to keep pace with the bored bunny. “But an octopus is just as stupid—”

“Don’t you dare,” Hector interrupted him, stomping his hoof next to them harshly. Both stopped and turned to look up at him. Bridgette twiddled with her ribbon while Bartholomew glared up at him. “An octopus and a horse have absolutely nothing in common!”

“The other bats and myself seem to think so,” Bartholomew retorted, snorting at him. “Another horse fault; so full of themselves…!”

“Would you two shut up?” Bridgette said, becoming extremely annoyed with the conversation. “I’m about ready to take this ribbon and tie you together!”

“The horror!” Hector whinnied, rearing up on his back legs and plopping back down heavily, making both Bridgette and Bartholomew jump.

“I said stop it!” she seethed, baring her tiny teeth up at the horse. He knew very well how sharp they were. “Why are you both even bickering about this, anyway?”

Both paused and looked at each other, and at their shrugs Bridgette squealed angrily and hopped away from them as fast as she could, not wanting to bother with them anymore.

“Bridge!”

“Where are you going?!”

“Shut up!” 15 months ago

I had never looked at a girl like this before. It was strange, and left a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sure I’d look at girls in movies and models and think, “Wow, she’s hot,” but that’s different. This was so much more… real, more than me thinking, “Wow, she’s hot.”

And to be honest, she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous. I know in movies and crap the guy’ll always be saying things like, “She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” whatever, but Julie wasn’t like that. In fact, she was kind of average. She was curvy and light and strong, definitely, but no long blond hair or huge breasts that made a guy want to bury his face in them. Average breasts, brown hair that wasn’t super long, but long enough to grab and yank if you wanted.

I had to admit, though, that her eyes… maybe she had makeup on, or it WAS like in a movie, or maybe she did just have the most beautiful eyes ever. They lit up when she smiled, clouded over when she was thinking really hard and scrunched up her nose, and they darkened when she was annoyed or angry. Which I, sadly, have seen a lot. But at least she was looking at me. The color wasn’t exactly spectacular, just a hazel green-brown color, but I’d much rather look at her eyes than the prettiest blue-eyed babe you could find.

But unfortunately, despite all the mushy feelings I could spew and fill a pool with, Julie didn’t really think much of me. Or, I don’t think she did, anyway. She didn’t seem to notice my existence half the time, and the other half I was trying to make her notice me and I got the dark-hazel eyes in my direction. While I don’t enjoy being glowered at, I just love watching her nose scrunch up and her mouth purse together.

Now I just needed to see her smile. Not just at something her friends say or at a cute little puppy sitting in a box waiting to be adopted, either. I just want that beautiful smile to be at me. For me. 15 months ago

Nate continued to barrage me with insults and swears, and silently I cried in the front seat, my eyes misting over and my hands tightly clenching the steering wheel. It was so strange, hearing such venom in a ten year old’s voice. I did my best to hide the fact that I was crying, being especially quiet, even though if he did hear me, I doubt that Nate would care. Most likely he would sneer and make more comments. Which is exactly why I kept it to myself. Thankfully, he sat in the backseat.

But this was normal.

I had no idea why he was like that. Well, maybe I did. Ever since we knew Mom was pregnant, suddenly the focus shifted and nothing else mattered. Mom would still pay attention to me, of course, but then, there wasn’t a new baby to dote on just yet. Dad would constantly be at her side, however. He did everything for her-“A boy, a boy, I’ve always wanted a little boy…!”-and it was as though I didn’t exist.

At the time I was only five, and thought this was normal. I just bragged to the kids in daycare and kindergarten that I was going to be a big sister in five months… four… three… two… one…

And then I was alone.

Nate came and even my mom, who had always had time for me, even when she was having pains because of the pregnancy, seemed to forget I was there. Nobody played with me anymore, and it even seemed that the kids at school were drifting away from me. Or perhaps I was simply so down trodden that I scared them away myself.

And as Nate grew and grew, I tried my best to be a good big sister. But… that may have been part of the problem. He seemed to grow up with the idea that, because I was trying so hard to help Mom with him and was always doing things for him, that I was more like a pet or servant than his sister. In fact, I remember clearly…

“Nate, sit next to Haylee so we can take your pictures! Grandma wants to see how big her little grand kids have gotten!”

He had given her the most odd combination of disgust and confusion I had ever seen on an eight year old’s face. Even though the word sister was tossed around at home, it had seemed to finally sink in that we were actually related.

And that’s when he deemed himself to be the favorite, and began to insult and ridicule.

“If you’re my sister,” he said soon after the picture incident, “how come mommy and daddy don’t play with you as much? How come They never ask you how school was? You must not be as special.”

The window in the front seat was fogging up, probably because I was bawling so much, but finally it was time to drop Nate off at school. He said nothing and slammed the door behind him, walking up to his friends and laughing carelessly.

I clenched my teeth and gripped the steering wheel so hard it hurt. I quickly pulled away and left the grade school, speeding across town to get to the high school, though I didn’t feel like showing my face. The few friends I had, bless them, would know something was up (again) when they saw me. So when I pulled into the school parking lot I sat and sat and cried and cried, willing myself to stop so I could at least make myself look presentable before walking inside.

It was eight thirty before I could finally calm myself down, and the icy wind outside bit at my damp cheeks as I slid across ice to the doors. I was late, but I couldn’t care less at this point. I made it into the class and sat down next to Trisha, who gave me a look that clearly said, “What happened to you?!” I frowned sadly and shook my head, mouthing, “I’ll tell you later.”

“Thanks for joining us, Haylee,” Mr. Appo said from the front of the room, where he was writing the day’s assignment on the board. “You missed a pop quiz, it’s sitting on my desk.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, leaning over and swiping the paper from the corner of his desk. I’d chosen a seat by the teacher’s desk in case I had questions, but because my being late was a normal occurrence anymore (much like Mr. Appo’s pop quizzes seemed to be becoming) it was more convenient than I’d thought it would be.

—

As soon as class was finished, Trisha grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the door, but Mr. Appo stopped her. “Trisha,” he called, “I’d like to have a word with Haylee if I may have your permission?” He had a smirk on his face, probably because of how we looked, her dragging me away and all.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she said, letting me go and giving me another look. “We’re talking as soon as you’re done!” it said.

“I know,” I silently thought waving as I walked back in.

“Shut the door, please.”

“Don’t you have another class next?”

“Not today, no. Sit down, Haylee.” He motioned to the desk I always sat in and I sat, turning to face him. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like this conversation.

“I’m going to get right to the point,” he said, folding his hands together on top of his desk. I unconsciously mimicked the motion, feeling nervous. “Are you having problems at home?”

“No, Sir,” I said immediately, shaking my head. I’d already told myself back in middle school that, if asked, I would deny. It was my problem and I was dealing with it. It’s not like the school could make my brother shape up and my parents notice me again, anyway.

“Then why are you so late all the time?” he asked gently. “At first you would come in so early, sometimes earlier than me. Which was nice,” he added, a joking tone in his voice, “because my homeroom always needed a guard dog.”

“That’s just because—”

“You drop your brother off early, I know how it is. So what happened? Did your brother start waking up late or something?” he asked, eyes showing the frown that appeared on his face.

“No…” I began, “He’s perfect about getting up on time and doing what he’s told.” I cleared my throat, realizing I was using my parents’ words. Perfect.

“Then what’s going on?” he asked, sounding like he was pleading, almost. “I enjoy having you in my class, Haylee, and I’ve already had you in my homeroom last year and this year. I’d like to think I know you a little bit, at least. And so I worry when you come in late looking like you just cried for hours straight.”

I was shocked that he’d noticed. I looked up at him, wide-eyed, before staring down at my lap. The bell rang in the background for the next class to start, but neither of us moved.

Finally Mr. Appo sighed and motioned to the door. “Obviously you won’t speak to me, but talk to someone Haylee, please?”

I nodded and grabbed my bag, hurrying to stand and leave the room.

“Oh, I’ll email Mrs. Faust and tell her I kept you so late, all right?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you,” I said quickly, rushing for the door.

“Have a better day, Haylee,” he called after me.

“You too,” I said, waving as I slammed the door shut.

The sound echoed down the hall, which was completely empty, and I ran for my next class, desperately trying to hold in more tears that I hadn’t thought I had. 16 months ago

It was raining that day. How could I forget? Not raining, pouring, absolute buckets of water were streaming down from the sky. And it was the first time I had thought, “How strange, I’d always thought fire was doused by water…”

Even fires as big as that one had been.

The blaze had been as big as our home, which was understandable, considering it was our home that was ablaze with roaring, crackling flames of red and yellow. It had lasted for what seemed like hours. Perhaps it had been hours, I honestly couldn’t say. All I saw was the crumbling within the flames and the torrents of rain splashing down, but having absolutely no effect on the fire.

And screams. Screaming, wailing, shrill cries and howls of pain. Tormented sobs and sniffling whimpers. From inside and out. Those trapped within cried out for mercy, cried for help, for the pain to stop. Those watching outside cried for help as well, cried for those they could not help themselves and cried for their pain and loss. They were going to die, and none of us outside could do a thing about it.

And all I could think as I watched was, “What does it feel like, to burn?” I’d heard you simply continued screaming in pain as your body slowly melted and popped and singed. But, there was only momentary pain, it didn’t last throughout the duration of the ordeal. So… why continue to scream? For your loss of feeling? For your life that was slowly burning away in front of you, inside of you?

Why do you keep screaming when it does no good? Why does it still hurt, and why does it seem like the screaming helps?

“What does it feel like, to burn?”

Excruciating pain. Never ending, and yet so little time passes.16 months ago

Knuckles wrapped against the thin door, sounding impatient. A few moments passed before they wrapped again, this time with more urgency.

“Are you alive in there?” a voice said through the door, only slightly muffled. “It’s been over an hour…”

A quiet huff of a sigh was heard in response, and some cloth moved, shifting against what the knocker assumed was a body. “You have no patience,” a girl replied, yanking the door open. Her hair was still damp and face a bit red from the steam, and her eyes were narrowed in annoyance. “I know you like your baths, but so do I. Can’t you wait?”

“When it’s been…” he paused and looked at his watch to give her an exact time, but had forgotten when she had actually stepped into the bathroom. He shook his head and continued, “When it’s been this long, I’d like to think you’ve had a long enough bath.”

“Bite me,” she grumbled, shoving him with her shoulder on her way out the door.

“You could have at least turned the fan on! It’s like a sauna in here!”

—

Just to let anyone who… I dunno, might read this know, I just wanted to have some kinda goal oriented around me writing. Gets the creative juices flowing. Won’t necessarily make sense, might be longer, might be shorter, but whatever. Just need to WRITE.

But now I must get to work. 16 months ago