Cover Illustration by Anna Olver
a publication of Silver Pen
Issue 16 Oct 2012
The Silver Pen Writers’ Association Presents a Silver Pen, Incorporated Publication
'Magination Magazine Director and Publisher: Sue Babcock Fiction Editor: Kellee Kranendonk Cover Art: by Anna Olver ’Magination Magazine is a publication of Silver Pen, Incorporation, which is a non-profit organization focused on quality writing and reading. Kids’Magination Learning Center is a division of Silver Pen dedicated to children who are eager to write stories about the fantastic flights of their imaginations. Copyright ©2012. All reights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information contact sue@silverpen.org All stories herein have been compiled by Silver Pen, Incorporated under ’Magination Magazine. These are works of fiction. All characters and events protrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are fictitiously used.
www.kidsmagination.com
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About our Cover Illustrator
Anna Olver is a Studio Art and Creative writing major in her third year of college. Her work in both areas has been published previously. She hopes that her life continues to be the wonderful adventure it has been so far.
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Contents Contents
Swamp Hunt
1
by Cody Gros illustration by Anna Olver
The Actor and The Palace
9
by Sara Puls illustration by Anna Olver
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Fiction Swamp Hunt by Cody Gros illustration by Anna Olver
Cobalt lifted his sword from the brook once more. Only a few smudges remained on the cool, shining blade. He rubbed them with his tunic until his own blue eyes could be seen clearly in the mirror-like surface. He finished drying it and slid it back into its royal-blue sheath. Trudging back up shore, he spotted Violet turning small rocks and sticks into colorful dragonflies with her staff, their hues ranging from burning red and majestic gold to vibrant green and icy blue. Her purple eyes darted back and forth form fly Page 1
to fly as her smiling face followed each new creation in its flight toward the water. She stopped when Cobalt’s shadow reached her sandaled feet. “So, are we staying here for the night, Cobalt?” her smile sank in curiosity as she asked the question. “I’m not sure. The dragon’s lair is supposed to be half-a-day’s journey into the woods.” Cobalt laid his sword on the ground and sat in front of Violet. “Hmm. It sounds tiresome. Maybe we should rest up and visit the swamp tomorrow? I doubt the dragon’s going to go anywhere until then.” She smiled playfully at Cobalt. He turned away, his straight face not changing as he seemed suddenly interested in the woods surrounding them. “Where’s Lee? It’s getting late.” Violet spun her head back and forth in search so quickly that her face was a blur. She placed her staff and stood up, turning to face the darkness growing in the trees. “I don’t know. I thought he would have caught something by -- .” She was interrupted by a flock of doves flying out of the treetops, followed by three arrows, which hit several of the birds and sent them falling back to the ground below. A few moments later, a face with two leaf-green eyes emerged from some bushes, followed by five doves tied together and hung over his shoulder and a bow in his other hand. “Hey, guys, sorry I’m late. I got supper!” His steady voice heightened in enthusiasm as he lowered the birds to the ground, laying his bow and quiver beside them. “Excellent work, Lee! What we don’t eat tonight we can probably have for breakfast to save us some time,” Cobalt stated. Lee beamed in pride at his accomplishment. Violet’s eyes widened and her mouth watered at the sight. Cobalt spaced the birds then looked at Violet. “Hey, Violet, where did you put the firewood you gathered?” She glanced around and pointed to a neat stack of twigs beside a tree not far from where Lee had emerged a few moments ago. “It’s not much, sorry.” Violet hung her head. She knew she shouldn’t have spent so much time playing with her magic. Page 2
“Don’t worry about it. We don’t want a large fire anyway. It will attract others to our location.” Lee chimed in to make Violet feel better. Cobalt followed suit, “Lee’s right, the other hunters don’t know that we found the swamp entrance, and it’s better that they don’t figure it out before we get that dragon that destroyed half of the village.” “Yeah, I’m just aching to kill that miserable beast!” Lee announced. Cobalt began arranging the sticks for an effective cooking layout. When he finished, Violet lit it with a small fire spell. Lee hung two of the birds over the fire and watched over the cooking, while Cobalt returned to the brook to get some water to fill their canteens. Violet watched the sparks dance in the evening air, the warmth making her feel secure in the darkness of the woods. Magicians know better than to travel alone, because if they can’t use their magic they can get into a lot of danger. Even an experienced magician such as herself could get caught in a poacher’s trap or attacked by wild beasts. Luckily, Lee, a hunter, and Cobalt, a swordsman, had joined with her and together they had had no trouble on their journey. Cobalt finished filling the last canteen and set it on the shore. He stared at his reflection for a while. A long, but narrow red scar traced up the side of his face, covered slightly by his blue hair. He had gotten it from the last dragon attack on their village. A swamp dragon, one of the deadliest kinds, had unleashed its acidic breath on the people and their homes, injuring many, killing a few, and destroying the precious belongings of the families who lived there. He had gotten a scratch from one of the dragon’s slick black claws as he tried to defend his home. Returning to the present, Cobalt touched the scar lightly, remembering the pain as if it were for the first time. Lee watched the birds sizzle. It made him think of the flames which were still burning the morning after the attack. Struggling from the aftermath, the remaining villagers had organized hunting groups who would enter the swamp in hopes of finding and slaying the dragon. There was no real reward other than being considered a hero, but many felt it was worth it to get revenge for those lost in the nightmare. Already a hunter, Lee felt it would be a good opportunity for him to hunt Page 3
for something besides food, and he had spotted Cobalt and Violet without a third member. The three of them had decided to strike out on their own, hoping to beat the others to get the first chance at revenge. They had found themselves later this evening deep in the woods and, they hoped, far from the other groups. Cobalt said he remembered this swamp, as he had apparently gone there several times as a kid to practice his sword skills with his father. Violet had only heard of it in her mythology classes in the magic school, creepy stories of undead spirits, vile creatures, and dark magic which could render an intermediate student such as herself helpless. Lee returned his focus on the cooking at hand, and removed the nearly-perfect dove from the spit over the fire. As the three ate, they remained silent, except for Violet pausing after her first bite to say, “This reminds me of something I’ve eaten before.” She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then swallowed the meat. “It tastes like chicken.” The three went to sleep cradling their tools and weapons in their arms, ready to continue their hunt the next morning. §§§ Cobalt was the first awake, the reflection from the sunlight on the brook casting a white glare in his eyes. He woke Lee and Violet and rose to collect anything they were going to take with them into the swamp. Lee made breakfast, and he put out the fire. Violet used a light breeze to scatter the charred sticks and ashes into the forest so the others wouldn’t know they were there. Cobalt hooked his sheath to his waist and grabbed the canteens, Lee slung his quiver around his chest and picked up his bow, and Violet picked up her staff and the small satchel with the cooked remains of the last bird. Together they started walking into the forest. The only light was the flowing beams which poured through the dense treetops to the musky earth below. As they progressed, the dirt became mud, which grew softer and softer until the trio sank several inches into the ground with each step. Standing water became more abundant, and soon they were wading in knee-deep Page 4
water, trying to stay on tree roots and somewhat higher ground to avoid slipping in the dark brownish water. What little light remained was soon swallowed by the darkness of the swamp, and the water turned murkier until it was nearly a solid, pearly black. Mist was whirling along the surface on the swamp water, hardly stirring the deep green and brown algae that grew on top. The deeper they went, the warmer it got, until Violet could hardly stand it. “It’s hot, and I can’t see anything.” She raised her staff and summoned a small breeze. “Violet, no!” Cobalt was too late. The wind removed the fog and revealed something terrifying. A few yards in front of them, on top of a large, round stone -- which looked as old and mysterious as the swamp -- was lying a slimy, black mass of scales. It was the dragon. It breathed heavily, its breath like the mist they had walked through. Blackish acid dripped from its drooling mouth and sizzled as it pattered on the rock. Cobalt drew his sword, Lee his bow, and Violet slid behind them, ashamed of what she had done. The dragon’s breath hesitated, but continued, only slightly faster. One of its orange eyes flickered open and its narrow black pupil became a sliver in the sea of flame. It raised its head and growled. It opened its red mouth to unleash its acid breath, but before it could, Lee shot its tongue. The arrow barely hit it, but it was enough to stop its attack. Nostrils flared and it roared a sharp, stinging sound. Cobalt charged, ready to deliver a blow. The dragon slid to the side easily, then pushed Cobalt to the ground and dove into the swamp water. “Guys, get onto high ground! We can’t hit it in the water!” Cobalt was hardly audible over the splash of the murky water. Lee climbed up a tree, perching on a branch high enough that the dragon wouldn’t be able to simply jump up and grab him. Violet, still somewhat stunned, got onto the stone platform with Cobalt, who had by now gotten ready to defend himself when the dragon showed itself. “I see it! It’s headed for the rock!” Lee shouted. “Violet, can you summon an ice spell?” Cobalt shifted his hands on the hilt of his sword. Page 5
Violet thought for a moment. “Yeah, but where do you want me to hit the dragon with it?” “I don’t want you to hit the dragon. Hit the acid that it breathes.” Violet smirked. The dragon emerged from the black water and did not wait before spraying more acid at Cobalt. Violet jumped in front of him and used the ice spell on the rain. It froze the droplets into shards which fell into the water, as well as the spray still coming from its mouth, effectively stopping the dragon’s attack. To its dismay, it could not spew anymore acid, as its mouth was held open by ice, and the inside of his mouth was coated in frost as well. The dragon’s long snout blocked it from being able to see Cobalt as he jumped onto its back, grabbing its whiskers like the reins on a horse. It fought his control, splashing and attempting to throw Cobalt off him. Violet tried to avoid the flailing, but tripped and fell onto the rock. She opened her eyes after she caught herself and realized something. The rock bore an insignia of a water droplet. A water source. “Hey, guys! I think I have an idea! This stone is the source for this swamp!” Lee wasn’t sure what she meant. “What does that have to do with the dragon?” He fired an arrow at its eye to slow its rampage for a moment, and he unleashed a few more into its hide. Most of them bounced off the black scales, but some stuck, forcing the dragon to protect those spots, slowing it down even more. “This dragon must drink from this swamp. Dirty water is normally brown. This water is black. I think it’s sealed with dark magic. Which means…” “The dragon is tainted by the water!” Cobalt finished the thought. Violet smiled with glee at her revelation. “I’m going to try to purify the water, but I can’t force it to drink.” “We can handle that. Cobalt has it under tight control and I can herd it with arrows.” “But how will we make it drink?” Violet got an idea. She grabbed the satchel and opened it. “The bird! It will chase the bird into the water!” “Wonderful! Now purify the water!” Cobalt shouted. Violet concentrated, trying to use light magic to cleanse the water of the evil toxin. Page 6
Slowly, but then rapidly, the swamp water began to clear, turning an emerald green color. Violet grabbed the dove and waited until Cobalt focused the dragon’s attention on it. Once the bird caught its eye, Cobalt slid off of the beast’s back and Violet tossed the bird into the water. The dragon followed it hungrily, disappearing under the water for some time. When it returned, its scales had faded to a dark gray, and its eyes were the same green of the water. Its breath was heavy, but it showed no signs of hostility. Cobalt approached it, taking extra caution to sheath his sword before stroking its hard hide. The dragon seemed to wince when he reached its scar. Violet and Lee hopped down from their spots and waded to them. “It doesn’t appear evil anymore.” Lee was amazed at the quick transformation. “No, it was the dark magic which had made it angry. Now that its sanctuary has been cleansed, it has no reason to be aggressive.” “So, in a way, it was just getting revenge for its home, too?” Violet tilted her head to one side as she tried to make sense of this. “We were sent to kill a monster. This is a beast of peace, now.” Cobalt struggled to find a reason to kill the wounded, but tamed dragon. “Won’t the town be angry with us if we let him go?” Lee asked, worried. The dragon released a whimper. They looked and saw a small gash in its side. Violet looked for Cobalt’s permission before using healing magic, closing the cut and healing the scales around it. Three cracked scales fell to the water’s surface as new ones replaced them. The dragon sighed, and it turned to the trio. It lowered its head and pushed the floating scales toward them. Cobalt’s face showed a faint smile for the first time since their journey began. “I understand.” He nodded to the dragon, then lifted the scales form the water. He handed one each to Lee and Violet, who stared at him in confusion. The dragon dove under the water, splashing the group, and vanished. Cobalt stared at his scale for a while before speaking. “It doesn’t want to be hunted, but it understands the pain of having your home hurt. It gave us these scales as evidence that we fought it to show the village and as thanks Page 7
for saving it from the black water.” Violet cradled her scale, which shone like a smoothed piece of obsidian, laced with tiny cracks which spelled out the word “Wisdom”. Lee took a string from his tunic and tied it around the scale he received, hanging it around his neck so that the word “Mercy” was showing. Cobalt tucked his into his pocket, feeling the ridges which marked out the letters “F-R-I-EN-D”. Together, they began their journey back to the village, each with a smile on his or her face. THE END
AUTHOR BIO: Cody Gros was born in Louisiana. His family moved from there to South Carolina to Florida back to Louisiana, then back to South Carolina where they finally stayed. He’s been writing since he was little, and always wanted other people to read his stories so he could make them better and more fun for others to read. ILLUSTRATOR BIO: Anna Olver is a Studio Art and Creative writing major in her third year of college. Her work in both areas has been published previously. She hopes that her life continues to be the wonderful adventure it has been so far.
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Fiction The Actor and The Palace by Sara Puls illustration by Anna Olver
The day I met him, the morning air was warm and sweet with the smells of summer. Across the far side of the dancing blue green water, the sun had just begun to sweep its bright orange tentacles across the pale sky. Though the underbrush was not yet thick, the mosquitos were still eager for fresh, salty skin. Upon reaching the outskirts of town, I began collecting fruits, nuts, and greens. Everything went into my leather pack, and I was careful not to bruise the berries or Page 9
tear the delicate leaves. By the time I reached the foot of the mountain, I had enough edibles to make a nice meal. Stopping for a quick sip of water, I positioned my back against a large grey boulder--still cool to the touch from the previous night’s breeze. If I ran the rest of the way there, and back, I could easily afford a few moments at the old stone palace before returning home for breakfast. As I picked up pace, dust came to life along the earthen path. Mother’s voice scolded from within my head. It warned against soiling my good walking shoes and reminded me not to keep her waiting. But I couldn’t heed the advice. I continued along the narrow track as it curved and turned, tighter and tighter, up the mountain. Though already panting, I commanded my legs to go faster, faster. Finally, the stunning structure came into view. I soaked it in and my step slowed to a crawl. The palace had been there for centuries--nestled into the rock and trees, halfway up the great mountain. Tall and ornate, it was worthy of its label-Ingress Palace. I didn’t understand what Ingress meant--maybe someone’s name--but the edifice was the greatest fortress ever built. Despite its grandeur, however, not even the elders could tell tales about to whom it had once belonged. It was a world of its own; mysterious and quiet. Thinking myself a keeper of the illustrious Ingress Palace, I entered, as always, through the high arch. I was more than its maid, but not so selfassured as to imagine myself amongst the royalty. I soon found myself dusting the Queen’s imaginary dresser in what I had long-ago decided was the main bedroom. I gently replaced her golden brush and delicate hair pins on the sparkling surface of the expensive wood. I repositioned her bejeweled crown on its plush cushion. Next, I moved toward the make-believe mirror, planning to shine the glass to perfection. When I raised my eyes, however, a tall, thin boy stood just in front of me. Until that moment, no one had ever been able to pull me from my mind’s eye once I had entered my own world. But this boy commanded attention unlike any person I’d ever known. Willingly relinquishing my hold on the invented, I soaked in his remarkable looks. The boy had dark hair and olive coloring--neither of which was unusual for these parts. But there was something about his hue that reminded me more of an unripe olive--the green kind--than the ripe ones after which we Page 10
call our skin tone. He smiled, quizzically, and laughed. Only then did I realize just how intently I’d been examining him. My face grew warm. In the three years I’d been visiting the Palace, not once had I seen another living soul. It was unsettling, too, that this attractive stranger had seen my fantasy. Though small for my age, most people would say I was far too old for make-believe. “You may call me Erland,” he said almost immediately, and with an outstretched hand. Apparently, the boy had decided to do me a favor and ignore my little game. “Okay, Erland.” I smiled and shook his hand. His name sounded like a more masculine version of my own. “Nice to meet you. Do you happen to have a last name?” I hadn’t heard anyone speak of an Erland before, but since our village was small, I thought I might recognize his surname. “You may call me Erland Thespis.” His voice was deep and strong. That name, too, was utterly unfamiliar. “Well, Erland Thespis, my name is Airlea.” I couldn’t think of anything more to say. “It is no Tragedy to meet you, Lady Airlea. You must be the Princess of Ingress Palace.” Had he not said it with such sincerity I would have shoved him over right then for mocking me. But his voice was so convincingly sweet; he must have intended it as a compliment. I blushed again. Then, embarrassed by all my blushing, my cheeks turned still deeper red. I decided to play along with his joke, hoping the game would calm my nerves. Without further introductions or preparations, we began speaking as if the palace were our own. We walked from room to room, hand in hand, speculating on the night’s feast, on tomorrow’s special ceremony, and on a number of other topics we imagined the royalty might discuss. Erland took to the game easily. It seemed as effortless for him as it was for me. After a while, Erland and I wandered outside. We talked; he sang a strange song. We ate the sweet berries and meaty nuts that had been intended for breakfast with Mother hours earlier. By midafternoon, small red bites Page 11
covered my body and my skin was red with sun. As for Erland, not a single mosquito had touched him. Not a one. My father told me that bugs were funny that way—that they have a taste for some people more than others. Erland’s coloring likewise remained unaffected by the hot sun. He retained that same beautiful, yet almost unnatural, green olive hue. We bid our goodbyes a few hours later. Had I stayed out any longer, Mother would have come looking and I’d have had some serious explaining to do. Week after week passed by in this fashion. Every morning, I’d sneak out of the house well before sunrise and return to Ingress Palace. With each passing day, the space grew profoundly more special. Erland always managed to sneak up on me at some point after I arrived--he was clever like that. One day, although I had scoured every room looking for him, he didn’t make an appearance. I finally gave up and climbed the crumbling stone stairs to absorb the view. Suddenly, Erland grabbed my waist from behind. Startled, I spun to face him. He had been standing so close that we nearly brushed noses as I turned. Rather than pull away, though, Erland just stood there, gazing into my eyes. I giggled at the thought of him trying to jump right into the little black pools, which was precisely what he looked like he wanted to do. Then his lips were touching mine, drowning out the last bit of my girlish laughter. Though much colder than I’d imagined the touch of another human’s mouth would be, his lips fit perfectly against my own. Eventually, Erland pulled back. This time, I stared into his eyes--into the deep black puddles surrounded by green grass. “You really are too perfect for this world, Airlea.” As he said this, he stroked my skin. Although still olive, it looked pale and white compared to his. I laughed, never able to take compliments easily. “Don’t laugh, this is no Comedy. You’re delicate and graceful. You may be shy about your fondness of Fantasy, but I treasure it more than you can possibly know.” Erland often declared strange things like this, and plenty stranger. It usually took a long time to decipher what he meant; sometimes his words Page 12
had no meaning at all as they entered my ears. This time, I let myself bask in the sweet sound of his voice. “I love you,” I murmured. In that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms and watching the fading sun retreat into the night, it felt right. Erland gave no response. Not yet deterred, I repeated the words. “I’m of Thespis,” he grunted, as if it physically hurt to say the words. I laughed. That was exactly Erland’s style. To say something senseless when I meant to be thoughtful. “Stop it. I’m serious,” I retorted. I wanted to hear him say it. “Airlea, so, too, am I. This is no Comedy.” All the life leapt from his eyes. Erland must have been able to see that I still didn’t understand, because he continued without hesitation. “I’m, I’m what your kind would call an alien. Of Planet Thespis,” he said as he pointed up toward the ceiling with one finger. “We are called Thespians and Ingress Palace is our portal, our entrance to your world.” “A por-what?” This word, too, was unfamiliar. “A portal. You have not heard this word before?” “Uh, no.” “Portals facilitate travel through space from one planet to another. They are fairly common, too, if you know where to look.” He stopped explaining, as if he had said everything there was to know. “So you’re telling me you can just jump through space whenever you want?” My voice sounded harsh, but I was so confused I couldn’t help it. All his nonsense was frustrating. “Well, yes. You have to know the key, of course, and how to enter it. But when you are equipped with that knowledge, the portal provides immediate access to what lies on the other side. For example, you remember that dark brown stone in the front of the castle? The one that stands out from the others?” I barely nodded. “That stone is this portal’s code stone. If you press the correct spots on the stone, the portal will open to Thespis. Travel is instantaneous.” I was beginning to understand the basic idea. But right then I needed to Page 13
know more about why Erland was on Earth to begin with. I would make him show me the portal later. “Ok, I get it. You were talking about where you come from. I need to hear it.” “Why, of course.” Erland began again, just as willingly as he explained the portal. “The Theatre, Drama, Acting--whatever you may call it-is our Highest Art, our Great Honor. Those chosen are showered with much praise. The culmination of our schooling is to come here, through this portal, and take the Great Tour. We wear the Mask while our Master Teachers observe. That is why you found me here.” “Wear the mask? I don’t get it,” I mumbled. I was bewildered. “The Mask,” Erland smiled, his same gentle smile, “is the Actor’s greatest skill--the ability to mold our shape and speech and whole being into that of the Other. We call this talent wearing the Mask.” Erland’s face lit up with pride and excitement and he began to speak rapidly. “The skill is very rare, only one hundred or so Thespians in every generation possess it. So, you should know,” he declared in a mock tone, “you’re looking at something of a prodigy.” I let out a small laugh, though I had tried to hold it in. Erland smiled yet again, and went on talking. “At my age, we must test our skills on your people. If we can perform the Art without being discovered, we pass.” Erland stopped abruptly. He looked nervous. “What happens if you fail?” I had about thirty other questions, but given his sudden change of demeanor, that one was the only possible option. He spoke in a whisper, without looking at me. “I cannot speak to that,” he said, twisting his hands together. “Those who fail do not return to Thespis.” “Oh, Erland,” I gasped. Despite everything he was saying--that he wasn’t even human--the thought of Erland dying or being stranded in a foreign land was almost more than I could bear. “I’m so sorry.” Erland said nothing in response. He just continued wringing his hands. The silence was uncomfortable, and so rare between us. I had to say something. “Erland, you mentioned something about your teachers. Did you say they observe you?” Page 14
“Yes. The Master Dionysos is here right now.” Erland gestured to the corner at his right. As if following a cue in a script, a figure slowly emerged from the shadows. Not all at once, but from the bottom up. What I saw was not so extraordinary as to be unrecognizable--it was clearly two feet that emerged--but their color, size, and skin were all wrong. The skin was shiny--almost iridescent--and a clear cerulean blue. The extremities were too large, even for the tallest, biggest man I knew. I must have been concentrating intensely, because before I knew it, the creature Erland called Master Dionysos was in full view. I stared at him, not fully comprehending what had just occurred. But then, it finally sunk in. Erland’s so-called Masters had been spying on us, invading every moment we shared. Worse still, Erland had been acting--his whole purpose of being here was to put on a show. Rage surged in my veins and black stars began to cloud my vision. “How could you?” I screamed. “I have feelings! You meant something to me!” I stepped closer as I spoke, not resisting the urge to shout right in his face. Then, I suddenly leapt forward, shoving Erland’s shoulders back with both hands. He fell to the ground and slid a few feet on his bottom. I crouched over him, still seething. But he didn’t yell back, or even move. Erland just cowered there on the ground, as if I were going to destroy him. In that moment, I realized what Erland had meant when he said those who failed didn’t return to Thespis. He meant that my people killed them. I froze in my tracks, yet again embarrassed. Master Dionysos cleared his throat, probably hoping to distract me before I tried to tear Erland to pieces. Still clenching my fists, I turned to face him. As I did, the Master began his lesson. “I understand this is no Comedy, Airlea of Earth, but channel your rage.” His voice boomed deep; it was almost thunderous. “Our Actors have been coming here for ages and ages,” Master Dionysos explained. “The first was named Thespis. He came 1,478 years ago, measured in your time. When Thespis returned to us many Circles later, everyone knew the Art could be accomplished. The whole planet celebrated Page 15
his success--the Great Tour. Thespis died just a few Circles after his return, but not before teaching all the tricks of wearing the Mask to those who possessed his unique skill. Our ancestors voted and the decision was unanimous: we would rename our planet, and ourselves, after him.” Suddenly, Erland was up and speaking. I knew he still wore his Mask, as he looked like the only Erland I knew. “You must understand, Airlea, this is no game for me--for any of us. There are many Actors of Thespis among your people now, throughout your whole world. We take great pride in what we do. We love to entertain you.” I was speechless. He basically told me that all actors were aliens, or that a great number of them were, anyway. Unable to make sense of it, I gave up trying and just left the room. I wandered a few chambers over, to an old window cut from the stone. Gazing into the depths of the dark green forest, I thought back to my make-believe games. I hadn’t played alone since Erland arrived. In the past, I’d made up stories about majestic kings outwitting their evil brothers. I’d dreamt of saving the sweet princess who’d been locked away in solitude. On my darker days, I’d even imagined great and terrible battles spilling the blood of my ancestors over every hill on the island. But in all my days at the Palace, I’d never once crafted a gentle prince to sweep the small keeper, the quiet maid, right from her feet. Not knowing what else to do--or perhaps not being capable of anything else--I sat down and just closed my eyes. How much time passed, I didn’t know. But at some point, a large hand caressed my back. The hand felt larger than Erland’s, but equally as cold. I turned, and saw Erland’s sparkling green, translucent skin. Immediately, I understood why his human-looking body had manifested that unripe olive tone. Erland looked into my pupils as I looked into his. “Airlea, please, just let me explain. Although I am of Thespis, this does not mean that you do not know me. You have seen who I am.” But I was still furious. Just when I let myself believe Erland wasn’t another figment of my wild imagination, he all but told me he was. He was another being, of a completely different world. So what did it matter how much I Page 16
knew about him? “Airlea, you’re not understanding. This is no Tragedy. Master Dionysos has just informed me that, despite my accidental confession, I passed. I completed the Great Tour to his satisfaction. Therefore, if I wish, I may remain here.” My ears perked up. “Here?” I inquired meekly. Erland’s large green hand wiped away my tears. “Yes, here. With you.” # Ten years have gone by, or two Circles measured by those of Thespis, and this is the story we now tell our children. The elder child we adopted on Thespis, the younger on Earth. Each time we tell our tale, I am reminded that the Palace and the Actor were more than a dream. They were a dream come true. And while Erland still wears the Mask in public--most humans aren’t ready to see the true creatures of Thespis just yet--he doesn’t seem to mind. After all, Acting is what he was born to do. THE END
AUTHOR BIO: Sara Kathryn Puls is a Wisconsinite who lives in South Texas. By day, she is an attorney for a non-profit law firm. By night, she reads and writes as much as she can. Sara’s work has appeared in, or is forthcoming from, Scout & Engineer, Liquid Imagination, and other places ILLUSTRATOR BIO: Anna Olver is a Studio Art and Creative writing major in her third year of college. Her work in both areas has been published previously. She hopes that her life continues to be the wonderful adventure it has been so far.
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