WAMS Ink Issue #7 by Deb Goetjen

Cover art by Andrew White

TABLE OF CONTENTS Truth By Divya Krishnan

The Boy By Sophia Hlavaty

The Valkyrie By Helen Liu

A Canventure Gone Wrong By Brian Liu

To The Woods By Alyssa Franck

Revival By Valerie Chen

The QUEST By Jasmine Gill

Snowfall By Elizabeth Polito

The Iron Pot and The Clay Pot: A Chinese folktale retold and translated by Isabel Su 46 What If? By Isabel Su

The Spirit of Ursus: Spark Games By Angela Aquilio

Living By Anna Skrobala

Truth By Divya Krishnan (7th Grade Writing Contest Winning Story) Silence pierces the air, more terrorizing than the chaos of a moment ago. The world is crumbling around me, and all I can do is stand and watch. Safe is not the way I would describe this. I have never been safe. Not since I picked up the pistol. Not since I warned the people. Not since I betrayed him-- never. Perhaps I was once safe, but it was not my actions that threatened me -- it was information. It had been the day of Will’s father’s funeral. Perhaps to have died then was a blessing, but what waits after death remains a question. Either way, the funeral and his father’s death -- that was the day it started. *

Antiseptics. Why did the hospital have to smell like antiseptics? It was like a stinging bug, nesting itself into your nose and spiking you every moment. The worst part? It would never go away. With that horrible stench clinging to my clothes, I walked through the hospital, my back against the wall. The door up ahead whispered silent pleas, pulling me closer each moment. Come here! It whispered. Open me! Come inside! I creaked the door open and stepped inside. White. Everywhere. The coats on the chairs, the ceiling, the curtains. Antiseptics and the color white. I crept closer to the curtain, whispering voices piquing my curiosity. “We can’t delay it any longer! He’s asked us to give it to him in four days time!” hissed a voice.

“You know we can’t do this,” a second voice pleaded. “You know it’s wrong!” “At this point, it doesn’t matter. The chemical mixture will take a whole day to develop-it’s either ours lives, or theirs,” the first voice sighed. “So you’re willing to sacrifice so many others just for your own benefit?” the second voice accused. Sacrifice. The word sent a shiver through me. My heart beat, and I pushed down on it, silencing it, and hoping that the men behind the curtain had not heard it. A moment of silence, and then another sigh, from which of the two men, I couldn’t tell. “Any longer we’re here and they’ll suspect something’s wrong. Come on!” Time to move. I let my feet lead the way to the door outside. Why had I come here? Why? I couldn’t even remember. But of course. It’s not that easy to forget. It was to get away. Get away from a death. His death. The man who had practically been a father to me. The father that was there for me when mine wasn’t. The father who had given the love mine couldn’t. The father. No. My father. If only. My mother had told me that my real father wasn’t always that way. It was the war. War and Death. They both hurt. The Changing War, in particular, was the one that Changed fought. The Changed were the people who had managed to go to the Mars years ago, but they came back more machine than human. The Changed tried to take over, but were soon defeated. The ones that lived were reprogrammed to work for the government and keep the city safe. At least that’s what everyone believes. Nobody wants to hear the truth. The truth hurts. War, Death, and Truth. They all hurt. The real story starts at just about the same time. Around 50 years after the first of mankind landed on the moon, the people on Earth got an idea to send people to Mars. Finally,

they succeeded in getting a group of people on Mars and they brought back a giant rock that the scientists on Earth later learned was dangerous and corrosive. They planned to dispose of it, but several others wanted to see what it did. The president at that time, President Prossh, tried to settle the arguments, but it led to a war. The Starting War. The one that started it all. The rock from Mars was used as a bomb, but it didn’t kill people the way it was hoped to. It changed people. They became talking, thinking, feeling robots. They killed mindlessly until it was decided they would be terminated. They weren't terminated. They were experimented on and reprogrammed to think more like humans again, but several people got afraid that they might change back. An understandable fear. A wall was built around the city to keep them in. Guards were kept at the walls in the hope that no creature would try to escape the city. My city. Effete. The guards were effective. Several times, people did morph back into the robots and tried to scale the walls. A single shot was all it took. That was what happened to Will’s father. That was what happened to my mother. War, Death, and Truth. They all hurt. The whispered conversation of earlier floated into my ears. It was just a lucky chance that I had come that day and heard it. He’s asked us to give it to him in four days’ time! He. My father. It. It. It. What was ‘it’? There was only one way to find out. My father’s study. My house stood before me, demanding and tall. I gave a tight, loud knock on the door. An aging man opened the door. He was more than a foot taller than me, and well built. His thick brown hair was sagging down to his ears. He was wearing a black suit and tie with dress shoes. He smiled at me, but his eyes stayed cold and stony. He steered me into the house and closed the door lightly. He turned on me, and I could feel my heart jumping to my throat. Don’t be afraid! Don’t be afraid! I consoled myself.

“You weren’t at the funeral, Ali,” he stated, his smile fading. “I hope you can explain.” His voice was cold and icy. A shiver ran up my spine. “You never said I had to go,” I said swiftly, my hands hanging clumsily at my side in an attempt for innocence. My father glared at me, and his eyes flickered. He blinked, but when he opened his eyes again, they were metal balls, a red dot flashing in the center. He blinked again and it was gone. “Your lies will hurt you. They will torture you. You will feel pain at their hands. Your lies will kill you one day. I only hope I am there to watch as you fall,” he said, a faint trace of resentment lingering on his face. He turned around and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. “Good day to you too!” I called after him, a smirk forming on my chapped lips. Concentrate! I scolded myself. The study. Closing the curtains behind me, I skidded up the steps to the red door and reached down for the loose floorboard. I pulled it open and slipped out the key. I gave myself a moment and smiled at my father’s stupidity. Unable to contain my curiosity, I inserted the key and pushed the door open. The lights sprang to life and I blinked to stop the spots forming in front of my eyes. I took one glance around the cluttered room and a shock met me. Written large on the board in the back of the room were the words: BOMB ARRIVING FRIDAY. The chemical mixture will take a whole day to develop - it’s either ours lives, or theirs! The puzzle was fitting together, but the picture was ugly. One day. Friday. Bombs. War. Death. I had to stop him. I had to stop him. I turned to leave, but a tall figure was guarding the door. I gulped, stepped back, and felt myself fall to the ground. A hand gripped the collar of my shirt and pulled me out of the room.

The door slammed behind me and I winced at the sound. I could feel my heartbeat; every bit of me pulsed with fear. I couldn’t breathe. The hand was closing around my throat. Precise, mechanical movements. “What did I tell you about going into that room?” my father spat, his eyes now silver metal balls. I struggled and clawed at my father’s hand. He let go of me, and I heaved a breath, but then he pulled a dagger from behind him and pressed it against my throat. I backed against the wall. The point was too close to my throat. One twitch, and he’d never have to worry again. One twitch was all it would take. “I can teach you a lesson you’ll never forget,” he said. One twitch. “I can make sure you NEVER go into that room again,” he whispered. One twitch. He moved his mouth right up to my ear, the metal cold against my skin, and said, in a voice just too quiet, “One twitch.” I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. My father released the knife and it clattered to the floor. I glanced up at him and was not surprised to see the metal sinking back into the flesh. He stammered back, his steps shaky, and turned and ran, afraid at how he had just Changed. I massaged my throat and peeled myself from the wall. A realization hit me, and the bitter taste returned to my mouth. My father’s capability to morph meant there was no way to stop him. The only way to help was to warn the citizens, halfrobot or not, of the coming bombs, and tell them to evacuate. Easy, right? That’s what I told myself too, but it was far from easy. The city was divided into three sections, which meant three control rooms. Three places to warn with just 24 hours. No. It was already two o'clock. Only 10 hours. Then there was the problem of where they would evacuate to. The truth was that there was

no real hope of saving them. Truth hurt. My father had said lies would kill me. I walked out of my house that day feeding on a lie. The lie of hope. *

The street was large and stretched out far beyond my sight, but the automobile I was riding in was going quicker than I could on foot. I glanced right at the driver, hair flying back, lips pursed, blue eyes fixed on road. When I had gone to her home an hour before with a request, my friend Anita had gladly accepted to help. She had hotwired her parent’s car and had left her home without even a glance back. Her bravery, strength, selflessness, kindness - I envied it all. She stopped at the side of the road and pointed to a building across the street. “The control center,” she said, a smile pasted on her face. “I’m staying here. You go on ahead,” I hesitated, bouncing on the balls of my feat. She gave a sigh, but a kind glint in her eyes told me she meant it when she said, “I don’t mind coming. Let’s go.” We walked to the door, hands steady at our sides and heads held high. I breathed in deep and glanced at Anita. Strong. Be strong, Alex! The guards at the door eyed us with suspicion, but let us pass. Grand couldn’t describe the control center. A golden plating lined the walls, running up to the chandeliers hanging high from the ceiling. The woman behind the counter handed us a smile in her cold, closed, hand. Her eyes shined with hate. In one hand she held the smile, in the other, the hate. Her choice. She opened the hand with the smile in it and it fluttered from her palm and landed gently on her face. “Good afternoon girls! How can I help you?” her voice was rash and she strained with the effort to sweeten it. I glanced quickly at her neck, where a deep gash showed the reason for her resentment. Anita spoke up before I could muster the courage to speak.

“We have a message to send out to the public,” she said. The lady behind the counter smirked. When she opened her hand of hate, it didn’t just rest on her face. It surrounded the room, suffocating the last ounce of bravery I had out of me. Before the lady could speak, Anita pulled out her wallet and slipped out a purple Dinero, the form of currency in Effete. The lady raised an eyebrow, her expression blatantly saying, Oh please! Anita pulled out another bill and pushed it over to the lady with two fingers. She eyed it with greed, and then looked over Anita’s shoulder. The guards were surveying the road. She snatched the bills and hissed, “Down the corridor, third door on the left. The code is: 084241.” Anita gave a pleasant smile and dragged me down the aisle. She punched in the numbers into the keypad and the door slid open. Inside was only one button. It read: DANGER ALERT! Anita smiled at me and hovered her finger over the button. “You do the honor,” I smirked. Anita lowered her finger slowly, taunting me with each second. Slowly, very slowly, her finger lowered. Lower, and lower, and lower, and lower. Her hand finally came down and she slammed down on the button. Silence. She pressed again. Nothing. We glanced at each other in confusion. A sudden blast erupted from outside. Without looking back, we sprinted out of the room and back to the reception desk. The room reeked of Death. Of War. Of Truth. The woman lay dead behind the counter and the guards at the door had already left. I grimaced and ran out of the room. The world was burning and the sky was falling. Or at least that was what it looked like. Smoke rose from the streets and the shouts of death echoed in our ears. Sirens were ringing-- the button had worked, but we were too late. My father had chosen to act early. Too early.

Anita shook me out of my daze with her rattling words. “The button worked. We have to reach the other two buildings before it’s too late! Ali! Alex are you listening to me?” I nodded, a quick shake of my head. “You take the car and go to the one farther away. I’ll run to the other one - it’s much closer!” I shouted over the chaos. Anita nodded and I turned to leave, but she gripped me by the arm and swiveled me around. “What if we’re too late? What if we can’t save them?” Her voice was desperate. She needed me to tell her everything was going to be alright. She needed me to tell her we’d make it out. But I didn’t say either of those. “Then we’d have failed. Everybody would die and the world as we know it would be gone,” I said, my voice harsh. She nodded. She understood. I wasn’t trying to hurt her, but she needed the truth. She was strong enough for the truth. Sometimes truth hurts, but lies will kill you. She let go of my arm and we both ran our opposite ways. Whether this would be our goodbyes forever, we’d never know. Whether Death would take us before we’d see each other again, we’d never know. Sometimes a loved one’s death will hurt, but it has to happen. I ran, and ran, and ran. If only my father had not dropped the bombs. If only the Changing War had never happened. If only we’d never gone to Mars. If only. Up ahead, I could see the gun of a soldier left behind in a futile attempt to escape. I picked it up, the thought of using it weighing me down. I could see the second control center up ahead, but even from this distance, I could see the label of War printed across the second section of Effete. I raced into the building, and was not surprised to find smoke clouding the room. I

turned to leave, but a tall figure was guarding the door. I did not stumble. I did not step back. I did not fall. I took the pistol from my belt and held it up against him. “Good day to you too,” my father said, his face twisted with the effort of a smile. “Be quiet,” I whispered, my voice silent and deadly. I was in power here. I had the higher ground. I was in control. He attempted a smile and stood with his back against the demolished brick wall. I clicked the bullet into place. “One twitch,” he whispered, his voice rash and shaky. He was right - one twitch and it would all be over. I thought about the times he had hurt me, and pressed the knife to my throat; or the times when his eyes glinted silver, and the killing robot showed. Though those terrorizing thoughts stayed adamant, other thoughts lingered as well, unwilling to shake away. When he tucked me into bed when I was little; when we made breakfast together in the mornings; his sweet smile that vanished when my mother had died. I can’t do this! I can’t! I can’t! Anita’s words echoed in my mind. What it we’re too late? What if we can’t save them? I might have been too late; I might have let the people die, but I had to make sure that no more people died. I had to end this now. He is not my father. He is a killing machine. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. He is not my father. He is a killing machine. I placed my finger on the trigger, my breathing ragged. I averted my eyes from him. “Would you really kill your father?” he asked, not a trace of sympathy in his eyes. “You are not my father! You are a killing machine!” I shouted, tears running down my face with each word,

“Finally, you’ve learned to speak the truth!” A grim pause. “You know? I invite Death. Kill me! I deserve it, don’t I?” “BE QUIET!” I shouted, every ounce of energy thrown into my words. “Your last wish before you die is that you get killed?” I scoffed. “No, my last wish is that I die of my own will. I don’t want to live. That’s what the Change does to you. It sucks all meaning of life out of you. It squeezes all of the good out of you ‘till all that’s left is the need to kill. The need to die. Sometimes, they’re the same thing. Kill me, please,” he said. I don’t know what made me do it in the end. Maybe it was the need to get it done. Maybe it was duty. Deep down, though, I knew the real reason. I pitied him. I pitied him, so I pushed the trigger. “I’m sorry.” My last words to him. I knew he couldn’t hear them. I knew he would never hear them. But they needed to be said. I ran out the door, dropping the pistol on my way out. Tears welled up in my eyes and I let them fall, each drop reminding me of all of the troubles I had faced. Every bit of me ached with sorrow, fear, and anger. Silence pierced the air; the world was crumbling around me, and all I could do was stand and watch. I didn’t know if Anita lived. I didn’t know if anyone lived. I didn’t know if I was alone. The last - left to die for my sins. Perhaps he was right, to kill and to die were just the same. Maybe to be taken by Death is a blessing, but what waits after death remains a question. Courage I needed the courage of Anita. I needed the courage of my mother. I needed that courage to see the truth because the truth was there all along - the truth that I could not save them. Truth hurts, but lies kill. The final truth: I had to remake the world.

The Boy By Sophia Hlavaty (7th Grade Writing Contest Winning Story) The sky was gray the day my father took me home for the first time. He gripped my hand nervously as we walked throughout the city. The world was still and in a deep slumber, while snow fell softly from the sky, covering the barren trees in a blanket of ice. His breath came out in short puffs, and his ears were bright pink. To any outsider, we looked like the perfect father and son, bearing a striking resemblance to each other, minus the fact that the father had a metal leg. However, if you took a closer inspection on us, you might find that I am more well-behaved than any 10 year old. That was one thing my father was certain he had to put in my programming. We finally reached a small brownstone, and Father opened the door. He shook the snow off his jacket and called, “Ingrid, I’m home!” A small woman peered out of a room, and then slowly pulled herself out. “Who is that?” She uttered, contempt so visible in her voice. “I’m Winston R-H7T, miss,” I said. “I am an extremely, technologically advanced robot designed to assist you and keep you company.” “A robot! How stupid! Is this thing supposed to help me believe there is a substitute for our son? Do you have any idea what I’m going through Murphy?” She screams wildly and then shuffles back into her room, slamming the door. My father, who I presume is called Murphy, sighs. He sits down and closes his eyes, breathing heavily. 13

“Are you okay sir?” I ask him, feeling muddled about the whole situation. He slams his fist down on the table, rattling the flower pot. “No, I’m not okay. She and I try to convince ourselves that everything is okay. That we can move forward and not be held down by the pain.” He wipes his tears with his sleeve and continues. “We don’t have the energy to move forward anymore, after our son, Jayden, died in a car accident. We just move through our daily lives, silent and full of sorrow and grief. We all have wounds from that day. Physical and mental. Ingrid’s wound runs the deepest though. She loved him so much, yet feels like she killed him, because she was driving. Sometimes, she doesn’t know where she is. She slips in and out of reality, mad at everyone and everything.” He looks at me sadly, and I see a broken man, made vulnerable from his anger and sadness. “We created you, in hopes that you could provide some hope into our daily lives. Like we could relive the moments before we became defeated. I guess you could say, we hope you could become our son.” He sighed, and with that he closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep. The sky was grayer the next day. Murphy asked me to get a dozen eggs from the grocery store for Ingrid’s cake. As I was about to check out, the manager stopped me. “Whatcha doing here, robot boy?” he challenged. I could see his confidence growing by the passing seconds, due to the crowd’s snickers. “Does that fool honestly believe you could be his son? You show no loyalty, emotion, or anything that defines a human being. You ain’t ever gonna be him, no matter how much you try.” He whacked my face with his cane. “If you were human, you would cry. But you are nothing more than a piece of metal in a junkyard. All ya robots are, and all you do is take jobs from real people. The young people full of promise were denied opportunities due to ya kind. Don't ever come back here.” He sauntered away, the crowd applauding him. I never got the eggs.

As the days went on the town’s prejudice against me grew harsher. I began to wonder if I could ever be the other son Murphy was looking for. Something surprising happened today, when Ingrid was smoking a cigarette. Her hair was in curlers, and she was wearing her nightgown while she stared at the kids playing outside with a jump rope outside. “Hello Jay,” she called. I reminded her that I wasn’t Jayden, and she winced. She patted a spot next to her, and I sat down. “I don’t know how to survive anymore, Winston. I can’t stand the pain. What do I do?” I looked out the window at the kids, and then at Ingrid, and then felt something odd. It was something in my chest, something I never felt. I faced her and suggested, “Maybe you need to let go. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting Jayden, it means remembering him, but embracing the present. As Edmond Mbiaka said, never let your negative past steal the beauty of your present.” Ingrid looked at me and smiled, a true happy smile. “Thank you Winston. You gave me something to think about. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She stood up and then walked outside to the kids. I watched as she taught a little girl how to use her rope, and smiled. That night, I remembered the weird sensation I had and told Murphy about it. He stared at me, surprised and said, “That sounds like empathy Winston. It wasn’t in your programming because it is a feeling. Robots shouldn’t be able to feel emotions and definitely not such a complex one as empathy. Tell me if you feel anything like that anymore.” He kissed my forehead and tucked me into bed. He hesitated, and then murmured, “Good night son.” That was incident number one. More feelings similar to that kept popping up in various situations. Murphy tried to take me to AI specialists, wondering what was going wrong. But those AI specialists had no idea. He started writing a journal, describing the emotions I was

feeling. Once, I helped an old lady cross the street. Another time, I felt angry that young children are already taught to hate me by their parents’ actions. All of this was recorded in the journal. I never told him this, but after I started feeling emotions, the world seemed so much more beautiful. I don’t want that beauty to fade. Late one night, I was going downstairs to fetch a book when I heard something. Singing. I followed that sound into the kitchen where I saw something odd. The radio was on playing one of those famous ballroom pieces, and Murphy and Ingrid were dancing. He spun her around and then dipped her slowly, Ingrid giggling. I stared at them as they continued the steps, transforming the kitchen into a stage and acting like they were the only people in the world. I began to hum the tune, and that’s when Murphy noticed me. He smiled kindly and held out his hand. I grasped it cautiously, not believing I was going to be invited into their world. Murphy taught me the steps, and we began slowly. One two three, spin, one two three, bend. Ingrid walked quietly away and came back with a recorder, but I pretended I didn’t notice. The music was carrying me to a place where I felt in utter peace. When the music stopped, I looked at Murphy and said, “Thank you... for everything.” We were playing chess one day, while Ingrid was baking her cookies, which were beginning to smell really good. The evening amber light flickered through the windows, casting a ghostly spell in the house. We were all laughing at a joke Murphy told, and feeling like a family when all of a sudden, he started groaning loudly. Then, he collapsed. “Murphy! Oh my gosh, Winston call the hospital!” Ingrid dropped the tray of cookies, the desserts falling on the floor. She sprinted over and knelt down beside her husband. “My legs! I can’t feel my legs!” Murphy was shrieking, fear written all over his face.

I picked up the telephone and said, “Hospital? My father just collapsed on the ground, and says he can’t feel his legs. Please help!” Soon, the ambulance came dressed in bright red lights and sirens. The doctors quickly picked up my father, put him in a stretcher, and carried him off. He kept looking at Ingrid and promising everything will be all right. But that scared look on his face was the thing that really seemed to dull the world and send it into slow motion. The world seemed dark and gloomy, and full of tears and anguish, like how it seemed when I first arrived at the house, before the hope was found. I clutched onto a chair for support, and vaguely heard someone screaming. I think that was me. Finally, we were allowed to visit him. Every step we made in the hallways at the hospital seemed to be laughing at us as we made our way to his room. Ingrid opened the door, and peered in, like how she did when I first made my entrance into her life. A doctor greeted us grimly and said, “Your husband has only one option. Death. The rash is slowly killing him, and if you might have noticed, originates from his metal leg. A certain part, called the unitse isn’t connecting well with the tissue around it, causing the rash. He will need a new leg. Unfortunately, the leg won’t be able to arrive in two weeks, and we can’t change that specific part because it is extremely rare. Your husband is already drifting in and out of consciousness.” He sighed and wiped his brow. “There is nothing we can do.” Except there was. The answer was right in my face. I have the unitse piece installed in me, and I could give it to Murphy, except for the fact that I will die without it. As I thought about the idea, I thought of all the times Murphy and I would play chess the whole night, so absorbed with the game. I thought of the time we were dancing and I felt so safe. I thought of his promise to Ingrid that everything will be all right. And suddenly, it made it all worth.

“ I want to sacrifice my unitse piece for Murphy.” Ingrid jumped up and protested. “No Winston, you can’t. We can’t lose you!” I countered and said, “In essence, I am just a robot. Murphy built me in a lab; you can just make a clone of me.” The doctor chuckled. “Robot, don’t you realize? You aren’t sacrificing your piece for him. It was in your coding all along. Everything. Starting from beginning to feel and expressing emotions, and ending with sacrificing yourself.” He chuckled again. “You really thought you could act like a human? It was all to create a robot as close as possible to a boy.” The room was silent. But that silence carried the loudest screams of pain I have ever felt on its shoulders. I covered my ears and rocked back and forth. No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t real. All of a sudden, I heard a wincing noise. I whirled around and noticed Murphy was awake. I looked away. I don’t want to talk to a liar. “Winston.” Murphy was saying my name. “It’s not true.” He faced the doctor and shook his fist at him. “It’s not true. There was nothing in Winston’s coding that would suggest he would begin to feel emotions and end up trying to sacrifice his piece.” He looked at me. “He must have learned how to love on his own.” I couldn’t help it. There was something about what he was saying that made me realize that Murphy was saying the truth. I turned and ran into my father’s open arms. The doctor was staring at us, as if he had just seen something incredible. “A robot feeling emotions. What an oxymoron. Yet how true.” He laughed to himself. I looked back up into Murphy’s eyes and knew that what I was doing was right. I nodded to the doctor. He walked over to me, smiling.

Ingrid was crying, and saying, “Winston, I just want you to know that you are not a robot. You have never been. You are our son. And nothing will ever replace you.” Perhaps if I was made in another time, in another place, the ending of my story on this Earth may have been different. But right now, I am happy with the ending that fate has given me. My last words to them were not of doubt but the fact that, “You are right. I am not just a robot. You and Murphy have infused me with humanity and taught me the joys of love, and I am reacting in response to your love.” The doctor removed my unitse and the world immediately began to fade. But my last thoughts were not dipped in sadness, but were of Ingrid and Murphy’s smiling faces and the awareness that love surpasses any boundaries.

The Valkyrie By Helen Liu (7th Grade Writing Contest Winning Story) Valkyrie. Female. Improved. Sixteen years. My statistics were being announced and broadcasted over and over again on the speakers. I was Valkyrie, a sixteen year old girl. My physical abilities were enhanced by multiple experiments, making me the first of the Improved. The scientists were already working to make more Improved. Professor Jina was preparing the launch. Within a half an hour, I would be heading on a another mission to crush the rebellion. A few revolutionaries had managed to start a war, protesting that they were too restricted. They called themselves Justices. It was pointless - they had huge numbers, but the government had all the advanced weapons. They also had me. “The aircraft is ready. Valkyrie, you can board,” Professor Jina reported. One of her assistants implanted a tracker just below the surface of my left arm, so I could be found anywhere. It was a small silver chip with a blinking blue light. I checked to make sure that all my daggers were in place and then quickly entered the aircraft. I had no need for guns. I could aim and throw a knife in less than a second. After takeoff, I prepared myself for the oncoming battle. My dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, so that it wouldn’t get in the way. I pinned the symbol of the government, a star with small circles at the points. My knives were in my belt and inside my flexible jacket. I also had

two daggers inside my boots, in case something went wrong. But nothing ever did. I was too deadly, too dangerous. I can sprint twice as fast as a normal human and jump three times as high. I can easily scale buildings and fall fifteen feet, then land running. The aircraft, controlled by an autopilot, jetted through the air like a silver bullet, steadily increasing the distance between me and Washington D.C. The rebels had no chance to win. They still used an old form of transportation that was once called a “car”. According to the Government, they are fast compared to human speed, but haven’t been in use in the major cities in a long time. Now we use a Teleporter. It is advanced enough to instantly get a person to where they want to go in seconds. A few years ago, they were imperfect, occasionally sending someone a few hundred miles away from their destination. Now they are completely accurate. The city I was going to, New York City, was at least two hundred miles away from the Capital, but it took a mere ten minutes to get there. The Justices had destroyed all Teleporter Stations in New York City, the main rebel gathering area, making it impossible to get there by Teleporter. But they couldn’t get rid of our aircraft. Every week, we bombed the city. By now, it was mostly toppled buildings and rubble. It was so much more dangerous for combat - it was almost impossible to tell when you would be fired at. But I can hear things from half a mile away, and my eyes can pick out the smallest detail. I came in for a landing on a makeshift military camp a few miles away from a rebel group that was storming a group of Government soldiers. I checked my supplies one more time, then stepped out. I was completely dressed in black - a black undershirt, a black jacket, and black leggings. General Gaston nodded at me. “A few soldiers will join you at the Tower. There, you will try to infiltrate the Tower and kill a leader of the Justices, a man named Dierro.”

I inclined my head in acknowledgement. I saw the general’s face muscles twitch, as if he was frowning. He’s not used to being addressed by an equal, I thought, smiling faintly. He clearly wanted me to salute him. The one flaw of the Government - all the high-ranking people were overly proud. I turned away from General Gaston and headed towards the Tower, one of the only intact buildings left in that area. The Government had briefed me on this - apparently the Tower was once known as the Empire State Building. But New York, the state nicknamed the “Rebel State”, didn’t deserve a building called the Empire State Building, so the name changed. Now it was just the Tower. The rebels still called it by its original name. I started off at a steady jog, but increased my speed as I went on. I weaved around the special paths cleared of gray rubble and broken glass, staying alert for any Justices. Soon, a few minutes later, halfway to the Tower, I started hearing gunshots. A sudden bang, then a whistling sound. I sidestepped, and a bullet struck the ground where I had been a second earlier. I flicked my right wrist and a dagger was instantly in my hand. I stopped, glancing around and trying to hear where the sniper was. I could smell the strange scent that came after using a gun to fire coming from behind me. As I got a throwing knife ready, I closed my eyes, further enhancing my hearing. The moment the bang sounded, I whirled and threw in one fluid motion, dodging the bullet. I heard a thud and opened my eyes. I saw the wounded form of a Justice lying behind a big piece of what used to be a building, about fifty feet away, my knife in his shoulder. I walked over to him and took his gun and spare bullets - no use letting the rebels reclaim their supplies. I removed the knife and dragged the whimpering Justice into a broken-down building. “Don’t try to fight and I’ll leave you alone,” I hissed threateningly, crouching down to stare into

his eyes. The rebel’s sat up with a start, only to fall back. “You’re - you’re the Valkyrie…” he whispered, his voice trailing off. “No, rebel,” I replied, standing up and exiting the rubble. “Just Valkyrie.” The Valkyrie? I thought. My name is Valkyrie. Why do the rebels call me the Valkyrie? Pondering this, I continued to make my way to the Tower. I brought down any rebels who tried to shoot me, but never causing fatal injuries. Some part of me kept me from killing them. In the back of my mind, there were always memories that I couldn’t grasp, that made me balk at the thought of killing Justices. A name, a face. I knew that they were important, but I could never clearly recall them. As I finally got to the tower, I realized that the Justices knew that I was coming. They had made a blockade of stolen tanks, with rebels on the roofs, ready to fire at me. As my backup, a group of soldiers came running out, calling my name, all of them were swept with what seemed like bullets raining from the sky. Within seconds, they were dead or dying. I managed to duck behind a chunk of rock. One of the Justices I wounded must have told someone I was heading here, I thought, readying my knives. I’ll just have to improvise. I sprinted to one of the tanks, dodging all of the blasts coming from every direction. I vaulted over it, ignoring the Justices’ shocked yells. I made a beeline for the Tower as bullets bounced off the ground behind me. As another line of Justices came into view, so did the bodies of the soldiers that General Gaston had sent ahead. No one was left. I was the last person loyal to the Government. I need to get onto a building. I saw the best place I could jump and leaped onto the intact half of a building. Instantly, the rebels opened fire. I quickly dropped to the ground.

From my higher vantage point, I could see that most of the rebels were focusing their attacks on me. However, they were slowly backing up to surround the Tower, and the nearest were dashing into the tall building. “You won’t be able to protect your dear Dierro for long,” I murmured. I took a bomb from my pocket and pressed the trigger button. The countdown started. 10, 9, 8, … I threw the bomb onto the ground. The rebels scrambled to get away from it. 6, 5, 4, … I jumped off the building and crouched behind the wall, hoping it would protect me from the blast. 3, 2, 1. A huge explosion. I was blinded for a few seconds by a bright light, as rock cut my exposed arms and legs. The wall was blasted away, and I was sent rolling across the glass-strewn street. As I regained my senses, I groaned and sat up, wincing at the pain. I need to get into the Tower. I stood up shakily and ran as fast as I could to the Tower, trying to avoid looking at the bodies of the Justices. I shouldn’t feel guilty for killing them. But I still did. I managed to get into the Tower undeterred. Most of the Justices in the Tower had been knocked unconscious by the bomb. As I headed up the endless flights of stairs leading up to the top, my accelerated regeneration kicked in, healing my minor scrapes and cuts. I counted the flights I had left. Ten flights, nine flights. I picked up speed, getting a few throwing knives ready. Six flights, five flights. A feeling of dread filled me. I was about to kill someone - someone that did nothing to me. It wasn’t for self-defense, it was just for the Government. Three flights, two flights. Too late now. But the doubt was horrible - what if the Government was wrong? What if the Justices were right? I reached my destination and pushed open the unguarded door.

A weathered-looking man stared at me in surprise. Standing beside him, a young boy about my age. He had my dark hair and hazel eyes. I drew my hand back and prepared to throw in one fluid motion. “Kaira?” the boy whispered disbelievingly. I caught his faint voice and the name drummed itself into my mind. Kaira. Kaira. Kaira. Kaira. Time slowed down. And a memory awakened inside me. A boy laughing. I was laughing too. “I win,” the boy cried. I poked him lightly. “Wyl, you always win. It’s not fair!” I complained, but I couldn’t hold back my smiles for long. Wyl. I couldn’t control myself. Months of training had drilled a simple concept into my mind. Draw back the knife, then throw. My muscles instinctively threw the knife directly at Wyl. Time stopped. I wanted to shriek in terror as the blade spun towards Wyl’s chest. But I still had an ounce of control. “Wyl, move!” I screamed, channeling all my energy into that one shout. The force of the scream made Wyl duck. The knife flew over his head and bounced off the wall. Time resumed its normal pace. I collapsed, my face in my hands. Memories followed the first. I am Kaira. Wyl is my twin. Our parents were taken from us when we were twelve. We lived on the streets for two years.

The rest was a blur. I tried to collect my thoughts, shaking my head back and forth like an animal. Wyl rushed over. “It’s okay, Kaira. Kaira, do you hear me?” he said anxiously. “Where were you all these years?” A gruff voice commanded, “Back away from the Valkyrie.” Wyl gasped, and that was the last sound I heard before the world went black. *** “Kaira! Wyl! Don’t give into the Government!” a voice was shouting. A door slammed and scuffling noises sounded, followed by a dull thud. “No!” another voice screamed. A bang, and that voice was silenced too. An officer came in, hands outstretched, the symbol of the Government on his uniform. Suddenly, I was in an alleyway, with Wyl sleeping soundly behind me. A Government leader grabbed me, and I found myself in a white room, strapped to a table. A huge syringe appeared, and I screamed as it got closer and closer… I woke, panting, in a big, dimly lit room, bound to a chair. My hands were tied behind the back of the chair, and ropes wrapped around the chair and my stomach, restricting my movement. A gag was in my mouth. “You’re the Valkyrie?” a voice whispered in distress. I looked up, hair falling across my sweaty face. Wyl. I nodded, unable to speak with the gag. Wyl regarded me with a mixture of fear and awe. He looked around quickly, as if making sure that no one was looking, then quickly removed my gag, crouching to meet my eyes. “Kaira, do you know how eager the Justices were to kill you?” he asked in a low voice.

I didn’t answer the question. I knew. “Wyl, I don’t remember much. But why did I ever trust the Government? They took our parents. They took our home. That’s all I know, but I should have never worked with them.” I stared into his eyes. They were almost exactly like mine. “You shouldn’t have,” Wyl responded simply. “You can start over if you want. You can join us.” He paused. “Or?” “Or,” he murmured, lowering his voice. “I could set you free. No one would know, but you have to promise to not work for the Government.” I hesitated for a moment. Did I want to live a life where I was free to do what I wanted, as a runaway? Or did I want to help the Justices, who were fighting for freedom? Did I want to help the rebellion that I was determined to end a few hours ago? “Wyl, you are a Justice. I’m with you.” He stood up and grinned triumphantly at me. “You heard her, everyone. We can trust the Valkyrie.” Cheers erupted from every corner of the dark room. I flinched a bit, startled. I had forgotten to listen for others using my senses, but it was better that way. If I had known that they were there, I might’ve said something different. “I knew it! I knew that you’d join us!” Wyl shouted, pumping a fist in the air. “Valkyrie! Valkyrie!” The chant was taken up by everyone in the room. Dierro stepped forward and cut my binds. “Congratulations,” he said warmly. “Not many would make that decision.”

I shook his hand wholeheartedly. I wanted revenge on the Government, who’d brainwashed me and taken away everyone I loved. Then I noticed the blinking blue light. “No, no, no,” I muttered shakily. “Give me a knife now. Now!” The cheering abruptly stopped. “That’s a tracker,” Dierro said uncomprehendingly. “Knife!” I yelled, holding out a hand. Wyl gave me a box filled with my blades. “Valkyrie…” he said warningly. “Don’t try anything.” He was still wary of me. “Don’t call me Valkyrie,” I retorted, slightly annoyed at his tone. “I’m Kaira.” I grabbed a knife and lowered the point to the surface of my left arm. As the blade punctured my skin, I cut a half-circle around the tracker, using all my remaining control to force myself not to scream. I slid out the chip and tossed it to Wyl, who caught it, wide eyed. “I need some kind of bandage,” I gasped, holding my arm. Dierro issued a command, and a few seconds later, I wrapped my arm in a towel. “They’re going to be here within minutes,” Wyl cautioned, still looking at the tracker. “We need to hide. What do we do with this?” “You can use that as a decoy. For now, turn it off by pressing the blue light,” I told him weakly, already beginning to heal. There was only a small trickle of blood left. Dierro raised his arms to calm the circle of watching Justices. “We need to get ready to fight,” he ordered. “I can give you information,” I suggested quietly. “I can show you where to shoot down supply aircraft. I can sabotage their vehicles.” Dierro gave me a grateful smile. Wyl placed his hand on my shoulder, smiling broadly. “I still can’t believe you’re back.”

“But we need to defend the Tower now,” I responded. I looked at Dierro for permission to take over. He nodded. “Get your guns ready. Hide the tanks to surprise them later,” I shouted, slipping on my weapon-loaded jacket. I saw Wyl get a gun from his belt. “Let’s defend the Empire State Building!” “For Justice!” Wyl yelled, raising his gun. “For Justice! For Justice!” the rebels roared back, punching the air. I turned to Wyl and grinned. I had never felt this way working with the Government. “Let’s do this.” As Dierro motioned for us to lead, Wyl whispered to me, “Do you know why we were calling you ‘the Valkyrie’? In an ancient language, a Valkyrie was a ‘chooser of the dead’. The Valkyries were female warriors that brought the souls of the dying to a warriors’ paradise.” Somehow, this made me feel angry. The Government gave me the symbolic name of Valkyrie, a chooser of the dead. But they, not I, were choosing who to kill. “Well, now I’m going to make the Government fall,” I replied. I will never be controlled. Now, I am not only Valkyrie, a name of lies. I am Kaira, the Valkyrie. Now, I will choose. Together, we led the Justices out of the Empire State Building, ready to attack.

A Canventure Gone Wrong By Brian Liu “Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen!” Milton thought with gusto. He had the fifteen quarters to buy the new super delicious, cosmic crunchilicious, extra epic, extraordinarily awesome, one of a kind chocolate bar and five extra quarters to buy something else. As he did a quick recount, he thought about the new candy bar and how it would taste. he imagined its rectangular shape and size. Finally, he flew down the stairs to the kitchen and dialed his friend Carver on the telephone. They had both scheduled to meet one another at one thirty in the afternoon at the Tad Sweet candy store, and now it was one twenty. “Carver, are you ready? “I’ve been ready for about twenty minutes.” “Good, now get on your way. I’ll meet you there, but if you’re not there by one thirty I won’t save a spot in line. OK Carver?… Carver? Carver?” Faster than the time it would take you to say super delicious, cosmic crunchilicious, extra epic, extraordinarily awesome, one of a kind chocolate bar, Milton flew out the door like a bullet. He ran all the way to the candy store, his quarters jingling wildly in his pocket like marionettes. That was, until he saw the line. It was HUGE! It was as if fifteen anacondas lined up together. Everyone in the town must be there. He saw Carver in the back and ran up to join him in line. “Hey Carver, a long line isn’t it?” “Yeah, I bet it’s going to take ‘til at least 3:00 for us to get to the front.” So then the two friends waited in line, seconds turning to minutes and minutes into hours and hours into days and days into weeks. when 3:00 rolled by, they had only moved up a quarter of the length of the original line. They waited and waited until they were really close to the front of the line. About fifty people were left when the attendant announced, “Attention all bears, the Tad Sweet only has twenty five more candy bars left. I repeat, attention all bears, the Tad Sweet only has twenty five more candy bars left.” Milton did the math, and to his horror, he was

number twenty six! The line transformed into a commotion of grumbling and shouting. Then the attendant made another announcement, “I understand that you don’t like these accommodations so, I shall cut each candy bar into halves.” The line instantly quieted down and moved another millimeter forward. When it was Carver’s turn to taste the candy, Milton asked, “ Hey, tell me what it tastes like.” When Carver started to chew, his eyes grew as wide as dinner plates and his face morphed into a sign of pure disgust. He beckoned Milton to come over. “YUCK! You have no idea what it tastes like. It’s as if a lump of wood, a hairball, a piece of wax, and a crunch bar had a baby!” Milton saw other people who tried it having the same reaction. Even the attendant, who, by the way, had cut a piece for herself, was displaying the same sign of loathing. Then Milton and Carver decided that if candy wasn’t going to cut the weekend, then the arcade certainly would. So they spent their remaining twenty quarters playing Pac-Man and enjoying some root beer floats.

To The Woods By Alyssa Franck Today was a normal spring day. Everything normal at school, hearty lunch, great books, math test. Wonderful morning, sunny cloudless sky, warm temperature...that is, until my little sister Jo Ann and I got home.

*** “We’re home!” I called as I walked tiredly into my house. Our house is a large white cottage with a fancy, tall, steel fence all the way around our property. In the front there is a breathtaking two-door steel gate. The steel is as black as night. On our door is the number 454. Mama greeted me by the front door, taking my coat and bag to hang up in the closet. Then she helped Jo Ann. As I strolled into the kitchen I saw Papa coming up for a hug. His gay face made me smile so much that tears welled up in my eyes. We hugged and hugged for some while until Jo Ann came whirling in, jumped on Pa, and then finally landed in a heap on his back to slide off on to mama’s shiny, just mopped floor,......WITH her SHOES on. Dirty brown footprints trailed through the room to Papà, and even on to the back of his new tan pants. The footprints continued in a large muddy oval where Jo Ann fell AND out the door of the other side of the room.

*** The rest of the day was a dizzying blur. Mother had strictly warned us NEVER to pass the front gate. She explained that she would tell us when it would be safe again. She didn’t really divulge anything else to us and told us not to ask any more questions. I can't bear the boredom of staying in the same house for days. -Margo

*** “Mama,” I said questioningly, “why can you and Papà go out, but Jo Ann and I can’t?” Mama gave me a look that reminded me of something…. Oh no, I forgot not to ask any questions! Quickly, I shut my big mouth up, turned around, and walked out of the room like it never happened. After I closed the door behind me, I let out a sigh of relief and went on with my extremely entertaining day.

*** A few days passed and my sister and I were in my room under the sheets with flashlights in our hands. We had decided to find out what was going on. -Margo

*** “I’m going if you’re not!” I argued. “You wouldn't dare!” she responded. “Yes, I, would.” “NO! You wouldn't!”

*** Most of the time Jo Ann is the stubbornest little girl that ever lived. So much for planning. But she finally gave in and together we planned our escape.The day we decided on was Sunday, after my family and I did Jewish temple. We couldn’t actually go to temple because Jo Ann and I were stuck in the house (for now). Instead of going to temple we did all the prayers and psalms in our living room. Jo Ann and I secretly added a prayer that we would be safe. Today, Saturday, we would prepare ourselves for the trip to the woods. -Margo

*** “Wow!” Jo Ann exclaimed. “It’s so wonderful!” I called out into the open air. I took out my diary.

*** It is 2:00 pm, Sunday, and we are on our way to the woods. -Margo

*** The grass and flowers were dappled with dew drops. The sun was smiling warmly and deer were grazing in its light. The trees in the woods had welcoming shade and beckoning branches in the light breeze. I remember that on our way back from the thicket, the sun just barely peeked out, effecting an extremely beautiful sunset that lined the tops of all the trees, just over the woods. Inside the woods it is a whole different world; birds are singing all around you, and all you can see are beautiful greens accompanied by light browns. But then suddenly...

*** I stopped in my tracks. Jo Ann ran into me. “What is that?” Jo Ann asked in her rough squeaky voice. I saw a large clearing with trees cut down all along the sides. Workers who were being guarded by Nazi soldiers armed with rifles were putting up a tall, metal fence with barbed wire at the top. I could hear loud drilling noises coming from all around me.

***

Jo Ann and I wandered the woods after that. We found out that more than one of those fenced in areas were being built. The one we ran into first was the biggest. Jo Ann got scared after encountering it and now I know she won’t be coming back. She got scared because it was dangerous; there were Nazis all over. Jo Ann and I were told not to go near Nazis, since they invaded our home. We were told that they are threatening. Regardless of Jo Ann’s sentiments, I think I will return. -Margo

*** “Margo, Jo Ann! Where have you been? You have been playing in your rooms for hours,” said Mama. “Oh, well Margo was playing dolls with me,” Jo Ann told Mama. I was proud of her for not telling.

*** I did not go back the next day, but I did go back the day after that. The fence was finished and electric wire was weaved through. There were people inside. I need to find out what is happening.

-Margo

*** I was about to leave when I locked eyes with a girl about my age. I waved her over and sat down. She sat down at the other end of the fence too. “Hi,” I said. “Hi,” The girl answered. “Why do you have a number on your arm?” I asked, suddenly taking in her appearance. “Oh,” the girl looked down at her arm where the number 1742 was tattooed in her skin, “the Nazis did it; we all have them.” “My name’s Margo...and you are?” “Julie,” she responded as a little boy about Jo Ann’s age came running over to sit beside her, “and this is little Will, my brother” “Who is she?” Will interrupted by whispering loudly into Julie’s ear. She rubbed her ear. “This is Margo,” she answered, “she is my friend.” Will had the number 1743 on him. “How did you get on that side of the fence?” He asked me. “Stop asking stupid questions,” she told him. “I have to get them out of here!” I thought.

“Guys, can you sneak out of your bunkhouse tonight and get back to this spot along the fence?” “I think so,” Julie responded, “but whatever for?” “I’m coming back tonight with my gardening shovel. I’ll carve out a tunnel under the fence at this spot so you’ll be able to slip out of that awful camp.” “But where would we go?” “About 100 meters into the woods is a small clearing. I’ll meet you at the boulder on the far side of the clearing. I’ll hide supplies there. Julie, I know we can do this.”

*** I told Jo Ann about meeting people there and now she won’t let me go without her. I figured out more about Julie and little Will. They said there is a ghetto about 200 meters through the woods. Some Jews went onto trains to other concentration camps, but most went here. Their father was in the ghetto with them, but then he got loaded onto a train with many others. Jo Ann will wait by the ghetto so she won’t be in danger.

*** “Jo Ann, you stay here, I’ll be back in an hour,” I told her. “With any luck there will be some friends with me.” “Come on, come on, come on!” I wanted to yell my encouragement to Julie and Will, but I knew I had to be as silent as the wind. “Oh Julie,” I said as I hugged her. Then she and little Will ran. I was halfway to the woods when a big, strong hand grasped my shoulder. A loud booming voice said, “Hello little Jew! You’re coming with me.” I screamed for help at the top of my lungs, but all I received was a slap to my face so hard it sent me to the ground and I knew no more. I awoke to the sound of a train. A heavily guarded gate was just closing. With horror I realized I was in the ghetto Julie had warned me about! “Mama! Papà!” I screamed, tears filling my eyes. When they cleared I saw Jo Ann standing on the other side of the gate, wide-eyed, mouth gaping. “Jo Ann, run! Go! Get out of here!” “Oh, Mama...Papà,” I cried softly to myself. I saw the gate close with a loud thud and I was left by myself, in the darkness.

Revival By Valerie Chen A high-pitched lamenting jerks me alive. Life enters my eyes as an involuntary shift scatters dust in chaotic clouds, enveloping every surface. My vision is warped; it is like looking out of a fishbowl. Peripheral vision restricts to amorphous figures. It has been long since I have last awakened, long since I have heard those wailing sounds. My memory is shaky, but one name strikes me--Emily. Emily, I think. Those were Emilyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s cries, though I had no recollection of an Emily. But I know I had once studied those exact sobs well, cumulatively hours and hours of those incessant cries. An ancient urge consumes my entirety, and I can only think Emily, Emily, Emily, like a tormenting drumbeat. Rising, I stretch my limbs: grimy, worn, and limp. I test my surroundings, cold and translucent. Alas, it is unmovable. I felt for an edge, and run my arms over it, shreds drifting into the dusty air like wisps of grey smoke. I consider the steep drop from the top and hesitate, but the drumbeat is maddening. A moment of frustration temporarily freed myself from the sound. My breath is knocked out from the fall and I lay sprawled on a strangely fibrous surface. Peeling myself off the floor, I blindly hobble a stumbling gait down a series of trenches, a one-after-another sort of descent. I am bursting to get outside, sensing being in a closer vicinity to Emily than I was now. I halt and feel for the frigid air on my fraying skin. Full sight is still not known to me, and I fumble through the maze, the air getting cooler and making my flesh tingle. A last push through a plastic film and mist wraps around my nose. The lemony full moon illuminates my surroundings, but the fog remains, still obstructing much of my sight; but escaping my translucent prison has calmed my nerves, and the drumbeat dies down a little. With the fog brushing against my face and the rustling wind weaving in and out of the crisp leaves, I set along a grainy path. I have no knowledge of where I am headed, no knowledge of my direction. My only guidance is the throbbing rhythm Emily, Emily, Emily, which points me closer and closer to a faint mewling. I shrink against the gnarled silhouettes of the blackened trees, groping and snatching their twisted claws closer and closer, missing by less and less as I trudge on, following the rough walkway. Fear grips me in its unbreakable hold, and a sudden awareness of how miniscule and vulnerable and flimsy I am with my uncertainty of the 36

surrounding world takes over. Hope swells, however, as I am content with the prospect of closing in on Emily, wherever she may be, and be rid of the haunting reverberation her name echoes through the empty walls of my mind.

The QUEST By Jasmine Gill Chapter 1 Kill or be Killed The forest was quiet, only the faintest shudder of the leaves shattering the silence. Catrina moved lithely through the wood, her fiery red wings brushing against the forest life. Her long, wispy hair showed black against the leafy hue of green. “Menso Alia,” she murmured and a fireball appeared in her palm. It fluttered and regained composure soon enough, hovering atop her open hand. She slipped swiftly past her cover, out into a clearing. Her elf-like ears had caught a sliver of sound amongst the brush, the slight sound of something too big to be a rodent crouching in the leaves. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Catrina hissed under her breath, her keen, blood-red eyes darting about the clearing. And then, suddenly, a shimmering ball of light flew at her head. Ducking, Catrina saw a deep purple cloak among the ferns. A sorceress. Interesting. Catrina threw her fireball at the figure, burning but a bit of the hem of its cloak. With a quick mutter of a spell, the sorceress quickly restored it and turned, another ball of bright light flying at her. Deflecting it with a shield of fire (that appeared with a quick movement of her hand), Catrina launched herself at it with a deadly hiss, unsheathing long, lethal, horrific claws from her fingers. She was going to end her. The hood of the sorceress’s cloak was drawn over her head, but it got whipped back to reveal a pretty, pale face. Catrina let out a screech and pinned the sorceress to the ground. “You should know that no one gets past me…” Catrina drew her face closer. “...alive.” At that moment, a whiff of smoke sent Catrina coughing and sputtering. When she finally looked down, there was… no one. She hissed in frustration. With a single beat of her large wings, she was up into the air, a hawk looking for its prey. Her sight couldn’t fail her now- though she flew close to the trees, she could see a purple blur among the protection of the undergrowth. A velo spell, Catrina observed. Swooping downwards, the fury locked its gaze on the sorceress. She crashed through the canopy of trees, and lunged at the sorceress, mouth open to reveal sharp, gleaming fangs. “Be prepared to die,” Catrina hissed, plunging for her… Suddenly, the sorceress whirled around. Her face was the picture of alarm. “The Empire,” she muttered, glancing around, then casting an invisia spell and pressing her back to a tree. With a jolt of panic, Catrina realized immediately what the sorceress had meant. Patrols from the Empire. Quickly, she swooped into a tree, hiding, trying to be as still as possible.

Three metal-benders appeared out of the brush. “I swore I heard something around this area,” one muttered, a girl with silvery, low-hanging hair. “I did, too,” another growled, scanning the forest. “Wherever they are, they couldn’t have gotten far.” The silver-haired metal-bender eyed the trees, then pointed upwards. “There’s a red feather snagged on a branch. One of a fury’s wing feather.” “A… a fury,” mumbled the other one, stunned. “Luna, someone might be… watching.” All the muscles in Catrina’s body tightened. “It doesn’t matter, Eli,” Luna growled. “Xenor orders. We find something, we’re on to it.” “I just don’t like the idea of messing with a fury,” the metal-bender that was Eli muttered. “Those eyes… the claws… it’s just not my thing, you know?” “When was patrolling ever our thing?” the third metal-bender grumbled. “I hate doing this dirty work, only because Xenor doesn’t want to get his hands dirty. With blood.” Catrina shivered, squeezing the movement so that it didn’t give her away. The sorceress shifted against the bark of the tree, then slunk into the bushes silently. The metal-benders left, and Catrina waited for ten more minutes before she landed softly on the forest floor, her black boots making a small thump. She wondered if the sorceress was still in the bush- she went over and lifted a branch. Crouching in a smaller form was the sorceress. She hissed and strode out of the bush, her size getting bigger until she was human size. “Who are you?” the sorceress grunted. “Why did you warn me?” Catrina demanded. “If you hadn’t, I would’ve been killed.” “Versus the Empire, aren’t we all together?” murmured the sorceress. “Don’t we all hate them?” She paused. “Well, now I suppose you’re going to kill me, aren’t you? Or try to?” Catrina’s eyes widened as she considered this. “No,” she responded, still slightly confused. “You saved my life. I guess I’ll spare you.” “Great,” muttered the sorceress, stalking off. “Every day, I deal with all these furies and morphs and assassins and metal-benders… it’s so annoying.” “What’s your name?” inquired Catrina curiously, cocking her head. “I’m Vera,” the sorceress replied. “You are… ?” “Catrina,” she said. Glancing around, she muttered, “I’m guessing they might come around again. Want to…” A smile curled Vera’s lips. “Sure, why not? I’d like to kick some Empire butt. After all, it’s kill or be killed, isn’t it?” ~ Vera had pinpointed the location of the Empire metal-benders in less than one minute. “If I can work my magic a little more,” she said, “I might be able to see if they’re coming in this direction.” “Good,” Catrina said. “Tell me when you’re done. I’ll be in the trees- we’ll have the element of surprise on our side.”

“Sure thing,” Vera nodded. “I’ll signal you with a green spark. If the spark is red, that means ‘Come down here right now I might be killed if you don’t’.” “Uh, got that,” Catrina said, hesitating. She flew into a nearby tree, while Vera cast another invisia spell. This time, though, they were the hunters. Luna, Eli, and the other metal-bender came soon enough. “No luck,” groaned Luna. “Let’s get back before Xenor gets angry.” “Okay,” Eli said. “The other patrol will be circling the west side by now. Our shift is done.” More like, your life is done, Catrina cackled in her mind to herself. Suddenly, a green spark flickered past her nose from the dark brush below. Her cue. With a shrill, chilling screech, Catrina dove out of the tree at Eli. “WHAT-” Eli gasped as she hooked her claws into his flesh. At the same time, Vera stunned Luna with a spell and killed her with a final blow of a fire-bolt. Eli was screaming like crazy and his body went limp when Catrina dug her claws far enough. Wrenching them from his dead body, she turned on the other one, who had made a metal fist on his hand and was about to fire it at Vera. Catrina dealt a blow to the third, which shattered his concentration. The metal fist fell apart and evaporated, while Vera aimed a paralyzation hex spell at him. He froze as it hit him. “I get the final kill,” Catrina hissed happily and leveled her eyes with his. He was gasping like crazy as he stared into her fire-like eyes. “You,” he panted. “You’re just a little nothing, a speck in the history of the Empire. You will never be able to change anything. We have the power. We have control. And you… you have nothing.” Slowly, the third metal-bender’s eyes dimmed, and as his eyes went pupiless, his body slumped. “Done!” cried Vera. “That was awesome.” “Mmm,” Catrina said, still thinking about the metal-benders words. Ignore them, she told herself. Shaking away her thoughts, she smiled grimly. “I want the bodies for myself, now. The blood tastes nice…” Vera nodded slowly. “Sorry, the blood is refreshing for furies,” Catrina explained. “Especially fresh ones. I don’t like the stale-blooded ones.” Catrina paused. “It’s… it’s not exactly pleasant doing this. Uh. It’s just how… how um… my blood works. You know we’re not as bad as we seem, furies, right?” “Ah, okay,” said Vera, her purple eyes blinking. “So, uh…” Catrina could tell this was awkward for Vera to say. “We’re, um, friends now?” “I guess so,” Catrina sighed, pretending to be annoyed by rolling her eyes. Vera laughed and said, “Come on, then; want to go to Luali Falls?”

Chapter 2 Bunny Tails They reached the curtain of leafy ferns that guarded the entrance to the falls. Pushing them aside, it revealed a smooth, large ledge. Just in front of it, Luali Falls gushed with fresh, cool water. A stony wall connected to the ledge curved sharply to make its gap for the falls. “I love coming here,” Vera said, smiling faintly, as if drawing her eyes over an old memory. “Me, too,” Catrina agreed. They sat near the edge of the steep, jagged ledge and sat in silence for a few moments. Catrina broke the silence. “There’s something I used to do here with my brothers and sisters,” she said. “We used to plunge down the face of the water, then swerve up at the last moment. A couple of times, I hit the water. It was fun.” A bitter expression crossed her face as the feelings bunched up inside her. “They’re gone, now. Killed by the Empire. My mother, my siblings, too.” “I’m so sorry,” Vera said softly, placing a hand on Catrina’s shoulder. “Hey,” Catrina grunted playfully, “just because we’re friends, I guess, doesn’t mean you can do that!” She pushed Vera’s arm off. Vera laughed and asked, “What were your brothers and sisters named?” “Hmmm… Roz, my oldest sister, Lynn, my younger sister, Zane, my older brother, and Chris, the second oldest brother of mine.” “So Lynn was youngest, in terms of sisters, you were the middle, Roz was the oldest, Chris was the middle, and Zane, the oldest?” Vera said, eyes alight with curiosity. “Yeah,” Catrina murmured. “Me and Chris were closer- Chris was so playful, and Zane was super serious, but always looking out for all of us. Sometimes he would say Roz was the best fury of us; she took the job quite seriously; and Lynn shouldn’t have been a fury. She loved flowers, and bunnies, and shining things. She was a bit confused at some times, but mostly just happy and playful, and energetic. We all loved her so much… she was the most painful to lose.” “Oh,” Vera said quietly, her tone dropping to a hushed one. “I,” said Catrina, “was considered the adventurous, feisty one. Even Zane worshipped my courage.” Then her slight smile faded immediately. “Before it got us all killed.” “How?” murmured Vera, hugging herself. “I had encountered a large patrol, talking of some stupid prophecy Xenor was afraid of. Something about how they needed to find and kill the ‘five ones’ …” For some reason, Vera flinched at that, and Catrina’s eyes immediately addressed her. “Anything wrong?” she questioned, her tone genuinely worried. “Ah, no, nothing- continue,” Vera replied, shaking her head. Taking in a deep breath, Catrina continued, “Then they saw me hiding, and I screamed and flew away, towards Luali Falls, where I knew my siblings were. I thought we’d be able to fight them off. I was wrong. “Zane immediately ordered us to fly away- with any hope, we’d outfly the Empire furies. We all flew, and then they cleverly waited for us, at Luali Falls, and when we returned… they 41

massacred my family. The only reason I escaped was Zane. He threw himself in front of me and ordered to go, to fly away.” Tears beaded in Catrina’s eyes. “He… he saved me. I saw Lynn murdered, Chris, my mother, Roz… Zane.” Wiping away her tears, Catrina sat up straighter. “So, yeah.” Vera was silent for a moment, then said urgently, “I saw something darting near the base of the falls. Someone could be stalking us. Let’s go.” Grateful for the distraction, Catrina dove toward the base of Luali Falls, pausing to observe her surroundings. A shiver of the leaves, a blur of white. Catrina poised for attack as the thing rustled closer and closer… adrenaline pulsed through her veins… Out hopped a white bunny. Catrina’s eyes widened as it sniffed at her boots. “Um, Vera, you should come over here,” she called, her eyes still wide. Vera was there soon enough, probably with some sort of telepathy spell, and examined the bunny. “Aw, it’s cute!” Vera gushed, nuzzling the bunny behind the ears. The bunny licked her hand and put its paws on Catrina’s boots. “What the heck is it doing?” Catrina said stiffly. “Oh, I think it likes you,” explained Vera. “That’s absolutely adorable!” “It’s unexpected and unneeded and UNWANTED,” Catrina scoffed. “I mean, seriously, a bunny?” “Well, I think it’s cute,” Vera said defensively. “The little guy likes you! That’s actually pretty nice.” “Wait a minute,” Catrina murmured, bending closer to examine the rabbit, “that’s no bunny!” She scowled. “I should’ve known it! It’s a morph!” The bunny groaned and muttered, “Fine, you got me,” and transformed into a human. “It was nice having a pretty witch pet me.” “Sorceress!” Vera corrected irritably. “Plus, just because a guy wants a girl to touch him, doesn’t mean they do it like that! That was cruel.” “Yeah, well, if this fury hadn’t pointed it out, then I would still be a bunny, and you would still be petting me and very much oblivious to the truth! Thank your girlfriend here, will you?” Vera frowned. “Ugh, morphs,” she muttered. Then the morph seemed to realize something. “Woah, wait a minute- what are we doing talking here, huh? Wow. Okay, ta-ta, people that are not-so-much-people, I’m leaving!” The morph changed into a gazelle and tried to prance away before Catrina flew in front of it. “Were you there, listening to our whole conversation?” she growled. The morph shrugged in gazelle form and muttered, “Pretty much, yeah.” Catrina’s face creased with lines of anger. “You dufus!” she yelled, walking away, kicking a pebble. Then she turned. “Wait a minute-” She looked over at Vera. “Vera, can I kill him now?” Vera said quickly, all in a bunch, “Um, yes, no, no, just, well, no, yes, I have no idea! What did he do? Catrina-” “Little guy, your time is over,” sneered Catrina. The frightened gazelle stiffened.

“Well, uh, why don’t you kill the sorceress?” he offered in a squeaky voice. “Would be much, uh, more tastier than a skinny gazelle!” “No thank you,” growled Catrina. “Besides, I’d prefer meat- human blood is getting a bit not-so-tasty. Gazelle meat… ah, that’d taste good.” The morph tried to leap away, but Catrina caught him. “Game over, bunny-man,” Catrina said, smiling. She was about to sink her fangs into it when Vera called, “Stop!” Immediately, both the morph and the fury’s head turned toward the sorceress. “Catrina, I sense powerful magic in this morph,” Vera muttered. “And it’s strong.” “Frankly, I don’t care,” Catrina retorted. “What’s a coward worth to us?” “Teamwork, teamwork, everybody is a team,” groaned the morph. “Against me.” “No,” Vera contradicted. “The thing is, I sensed this… ‘power’ inside you too, but I didn’t want to tell because I thought my magic senses might be overreacting, like they sometimes do. But this is really serious. I’ve sensed no other with this power, except for Xenor.” Catrina’s grip on the morph immediately unhinged, and the morph grumbled something unintelligible. “Okay,” said Catrina. “This might mean something. Vera, you got any idea what, exactly?” “Not yet,” admitted Vera. “But it seems… awfully strong, and I don’t know, maybe that has something to do…” Vera swallowed. “... with the Prophecy of the Five.” “What the HECK is the ‘Prophecy of the Five’?” the morph said. Vera nervously bit her lip. “I think I am the only one besides the Empire that knows it. My mother told me, and said one day, the five would come.” “Recite the prophecy,” Catrina demanded. “We have to know what this is about.” Vera nodded hesitatingly, then began: “Darkness reigns over light, Giving way to evil’s plight For only five can succeed the rest, A fury, morph, a sorceress. A metal-bender and an assassin Shall join the quest as well, For evil’s thirst they will go To conquer and compel. But when the mind destroys the truth, The answer shall lie in the Serpent’s tooth. If the five will fail all the rest, Then they will be thrown into a deep, dark death. Only one will destroy the head of evil 43

To end its plight Before the eclipse at midnight And so be it, the Daughter of Fire.” “Uh,” Catrina said. The morph transformed back into a human. “Woah,” he said. Vera looked embarrassed. “Well, yeah, so I’m guessing you two are the fury and the morph mentioned in the prophecy…” “... and you’re the sorceress,” Catrina and the morph said in unison. Vera stepped past Catrina and asked, “What’s your name, morph?” “I’m Kai,” he grumbled, before quickly adding, “Don’t judge if I’m short, alright!” “Sorry, little man, I have a way with judging,” Catrina smirked, amused. Kai cursed and frowned. “Okay, so I’m guessing now none of you are going to eat me, right?” “I guess not, Kai,” Vera sighed, and Catrina scowled. “Darn, a perfectly good meal to waste!” she grumbled. “He’s part of the prophecy,” Vera reminded Catrina with a serious look. “We can’t just kill him.” “Can I go now?” Kai groaned. Vera shot Kai an icy look. “No,” she said. “You’re staying with us. We need to be all together, then we can devise a plan. We have to find the other two: a metal-bender and an assassin. Efficiently, if we want to be quick.” “Yeah, before they get killed, or taken by the Empire,” muttered Catrina. “Come on, Vera, let’s go. Kai, you too. We have to find a place to sleep.” “Ugh,” Kai said, yawning. “Fine. But keep your hands off me!” Then Kai smiled. “Or your claws, girly.” “SHUT UP,” Catrina said forcefully. Kai grinned a large, goofy, annoying smile and squeaked, “Ha!” Just before Catrina nabbed him and strangled him by the throat, her claws formed a grip of iron around his neck. “Let- go- of me!” Kai gasped, and Catrina reluctantly dropped him. Vera shot the fury a look. “C’mon, let’s go,” Vera muttered. Kai scowled. “Well, wherever we’re going, it’s not with her,” he hissed, and Catrina glared daggers at him. “Come along, you two,” Vera sighed, shaking her head. “We’ve got a long, long quest ahead of us, I can assure you.” (TO BE CONTINUED)

Snowfall By Elizabeth Polito The life which I once knew haunts me. How can I live in the present if the past follows me like a shadow? In everything I do, the burning image haunts me. It tears my sanity into a billion pieces, and then sweeps them away in the wind. Food nor interaction is relevant, now that she is gone. I am consumed by the thought of seeing her breathtaking smile, her round face that had not yet lost the roundness of childhood, and her wide blue eyes, always wondering what the world would bring next. The world which she was ripped out of so prematurely. I have obsessed over her ever since she left me here, alone. Every day of my life, every hour, every moment, I think of her. I have thought of her while others exchanged sly remarks about my obsession, but I can’t possibly let my baby leave my thoughts. Or else she will truly be gone. I close the shutters, watching a thin layer of snow settle upon the ground and turn around, facing the dark interior of my home. If she was still here, she would be sitting on the E-Z man, waiting for me to tell her a story. I shiver and fall forward onto the fluffy armchair, but then abruptly swivel off. I don’t want to land on her and hurt her; Even though she is not really here, in my mind she still is sitting on that chair, waiting for me to tell her a story, a story about a heroic knight saving a princess against all odds, but I can’t. I can’t. It would pull so hard on my heartstrings, which are already so brittle, that they would break. I could not be her knight in shining armor. I could not save her. All I could do was watch her wither away, watch her go, watch her die. And then I buried her. Life pulls me out of memory as I hear a kitten softly purring. I open my eyes to see that the creature is pawing at the back door of my home. Being somewhat of a decent person, I walk out and gently cradle it. Its eyes are bright blue, its face is round, and it bears a name tag inscribed with Annie. My daughter’s name. I look straight up at the sky, asking God if this is her, and then I collapse onto the layer of snow. The cat licks my face, and then I feel that all is well again, even though I felt like my life had been built up again just to be smashed down. I take the kitten inside and I read her a story…

The Iron Pot and The Clay Pot A Chinese folktale Retold and Translated by Isabel Su In the Wang Dynasty Palace kitchen sat two pots, one clay, one iron. The iron pot was a quite self-satisfied pot, and looked down on the clay pot. In his eyes, the clay pot would never be as great as he. “Do you dare to knock me off this shelf?” Asked the iron pot. “Why, of course not! We, being pots, are meant to hold things, and exist not to bump each other off shelves. Also, we are like brothers, as we are both pots. Brothers shouldn’t hurt each other.” replied the clay pot. “You’re just not brave enough to bump me off, because you know that I’m stronger than you are. You’ll probably be broken into pieces within a few days anyway.” The iron pot retorted. The clay pot just turned away. Time went by. The Wang Dynasty was overturned, the castle around the pots slowly decayed, and they were covered in inches of dust. One day, some people came to this place, hoping to find relics of the past. They dug through all the accumulated dust and grime, and finally found the clay pot, under layers and layers of dirt. They carefully cleaned it and dumped the dirt out of it. “Thank you guys for digging me out, it was quite stuffy under the dust. Can I just ask you one thing? Could you dig my brother the iron pot out from the dust? He’s somewhere over there.” Hoping to find another valuable relic, the people dug through dirt and mud and layers of dust, trying to find the iron pot. The iron pot was not to be found. It must have rusted after all these years, unused and dirty. This just goes to show that while you may be powerful today, someone else may be the most powerful tomorrow. Everything you do to something will one day be repaid. Remember, what goes around will always come around.

What If? by Isabel Su

What if We all are books came alive? What if We are characters in books Destined to sleep when Our stories are read? What if Each humanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s life was just a book Read and written by bigger humans? What if Our stories are written already Fortunes told and decided? What if We existed only because someone imagined us? What if Our choices are chosen already For us to discover? What if We were controlled by another?

The Spirit of Ursus: Spark Games By Angela Aquilio Part 1

Epilogue: The Beginning For thousands of years, the planet of Ursus had been ruled by a council of Elders. The Elders are the supreme leaders of Ursus , but then divided the planet into four tribes and appointed one leader for each tribe. The four tribes are Dakota, Grigra, Kalapuya, and Oconee. The Elders knew though that these tribes would eventually fall and Ursus would become chaotic, so they created the Elder's Prophecy. The prophecy stated that all of the basic needs that the people took for granted such as food, medicine, and water would become so scarce that a deadly plague would spread through Ursus. When the time came, one teen from each tribe would be chosen by the tribe leader or their tribeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s spirits and they would fight against their rival tribes for an unlimited supply of food, water, and medicine provided by the Elders. The tribe that won would rule all of Ursus and their line would never become extinct. The three other tribes would perish forever. For generations, extreme prosperity existed and all of the tribes lived in peace and harmony. Ursus is a beautiful planet with all different types of terrain. Farther to the West , barren deserts and brooding rock structures - The Desert Province. To the East, jagged cliffs and crashing waves- The Ocean Province. Up north, beautiful towering oak trees and sun dappled clearings-The Forest Province. Down in the south, flat plains and open skies- The Sky Province. The people of Ursus thought they had a beautiful land that produced an abundance of resources that would never run out. They also thought that they would continue to have a fulfilling and healthy life with no diseases just as their ancestors did. The people praised the Elders about how kind they were and how justly they governed the inhabitants of Ursus. But in Year 5050 they would find out how wrong they were. So, so wrong.

Chapter 1: Lindsay Year 5050 September The Desert Province Oconee The fiery red sun rose above the dusty horizon and sat high above the towering rock sculptures. A peaceful silence hung in the air and the only sound was the scorpions skittering back and forth. Lizards cautiously poked their heads out of their prickly cactus burrows and dove back in. The brooding rock sculptures and canyons soared above a miniscule village of caked mud houses. Seventeen year old Lindsay Rockingham tossed and turned in her coarse sleeping bag that rubbed against her skin. The blinding sunlight shone through the small rounded doorway and Lindsay’s emerald green eyes flew open. She sat up and inhaled the familiar smell of roasting scorpion and lizard meat. She knew today was going to be one of the worst days of her life, and she wanted to stay by herself for as long as possible. Lindsay dusted the sand from her face that had blown into her house from the ferocious sandstorm the night before. She pulled back her tomato-red hair in a ponytail, and she heard a knock at her door. “Come in, Jidd Anna”, Lindsay called out. A petite, pear- like woman strode into the cramped room. She had woven her gray hair in intricate braids, and she was carrying a beat-up forest green bag. “ Ahh, Lindsay. Awake at this hour already? You should be resting, you have a painful day ahead of you”. “I know, I just can’t believe they’re really gone. It seemed like only yesterday that they were all here”, Lindsay choked , tears rolling down her pale cheeks. Lindsay sobbed and raced to Jidd Anna and buried her head into her dust colored tunic. Anna reached out and patted her head. “There, there”, she consoled Lindsay. Lindsay had lost her whole family to the plague that had swept across Ursus, swift and deadly earlier that year. Lindsay remembered it like it was yesterday. It was early spring and the days were gradually becoming longer, and the sun went from its normal yellow color to a rose pink because there was so much dust in the atmosphere. Mother had gone out to skin the lizards and make a stew. Father had gone out to hunt with her brothers Joey and Carl. Lindsay remained in the tent with Jidd Anna and she had been washing clothes in a small washbasin. A cry of agony rang out across the village. Jidd Anna had looked up, her eyes were wide in fear and she raced outside. Lindsay followed at her heels and gasped as she saw her mother lying on the coarse sand. Her body was swollen up like a balloon, and her face was covered in egg-

yolk yellow warts. Her eyes were closed, and she had stopped breathing. Jidd Anna cried out in sadness and ordered a nearby woman to take Lindsay to her house and take care of her. She then called out for a doctor and Doctor Shaum rushed to her aid. All that Lindsay could remember is doctors trying to shock her and revive her but they had failed.The doctors also had taken a sample of her mother’s DNA to study carefully, and they identified the cause of her death as a deadly plague that had infected her body. The plague had caused Lindsay’s mom to swell up and warts to appear on her face. Her throat had also closed up and she had stopped breathing, causing death to claim her. Jidd Anna had kept Lindsay away from her mother and made her do chores of skinning lizards and cleaning the hut to take her mind off her deceased mother. When her father and brothers returned they were devastated and did not talk for many days. A few nights later, as Lindsay tossed and turned in her sleeping bag, she heard her brothers and father cry out in agony and she had jumped up and raced out, her mother’s cries haunting her. She collapsed to the ground and sobbed her heart out as the plague had taken not only her mother, but her brothers and her father too. Lindsay had tried to forget about their deaths as Jidd Anna frantically planned their funeral for the last few months. The day was finally here and Lindsay still could not accept that her whole family was gone. Lindsay knew that her only hope was the Elder’s Prophecy since the plague had struck and resources were growing scarcer. She hoped with all of her heart that she would be chosen to save her people and vanquish her family members’ deaths. “Okay, let’s go” Lindsay sniffled, wiping her eyes. Jidd Anna washed Lindsay’s face with a damp washcloth and made her undress and she squeezed a cold washcloth over Lindsay’s head. She then braided her hair into an intricate crown and pulled on Lindsay’s black headscarf that was covered in gold sparkles and wrapped herself in jet black cloth and put on a gold necklace. Jidd Anna put on her own black wrap and smiled sadly. “Now you are ready. Just pray to the desert and rock spirits for your family’s proper passage into the underworld”, Anna guided her out of the house and through the village. The alleyways overflowed with garbage and scarab infested clothes. Scorpions and lizards skittered inside houses through windows. Beggars lined the streets and held their hands out, desperate for food, water, and medicine. Their eyes were full of anguish and one mother held out a sign that said HELP! BABY SICK WITH PLAGUE AND WIDOWED! PLEASE GIVE FOOD, WATER, AND MEDICINE!

Lindsay felt a pang of sympathy as she walked past them. People’s basic needs were getting harder and harder to meet, and more people were dying from the plague. The hot weather didn’t help either and people were rioting for water. Broken glass littered the street from the restaurant that was looted for food late last night. Finally, they arrived at the outskirts of the village. The diseased bodies of Lindsay’s family were scattered haphazardly in the sand. The funeral was very small and only Lindsay, Jidd Anna, and the undertaker were there to say their last farewell to the dear deceased. Four holes were dug in the sand and Lindsay started to dig the holes deeper into the ground. For hours they dug in the sun and Lindsay started to sweat through her wrap. As Lindsay lowered each member into the ground, her despair turned into fury towards the Elder Council. It was as if the desert spirits were screaming it to her and she knew who was responsible for her parents’ and brothers’ deaths. The council of Elders. They were the ones who had taken her whole world away from her. They were the ones who had predicted the plague and caused it. They were the ones who had taken her family. They were the ones who would die by her hand. Whatever it took to kill them. She would win the Spark Games, rule Ursus, and save her people for her family. Lindsay turned away from her family her pale skin bright red and her blood boiling. She knew what she had to do.

(To be continued)

Living by Anna Skrobala January 29, 2031 I have lived here all my life. I don’t know who told me all of this, but I know that I was sick and I had to stay here, in the hospital. Then came the fire. They all ran away and they got everyone out. Everyone but me. It seems like I have been here for all eternity. I do not know what happened to them. I do not know who taught me how to talk, read, or write, and I don’t know how I learned or why I know so much, considering that I’ve been alone forever. I don’t know why I know my name. I just know. I wonder every day what is wrong with me, what keeps me from the rest of the world and my family. If I still have a family. They could all be dead by now. I don’t know. I will never know. Daria January 30, 2031 Everything is different now.

January 31, 2031 I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. Everything is different now. They came right through the front door. Whenever I imagined things like this, anyone coming into the hospital would just appear out of thin air. But not them. I will never be able to look at the door the same way again. They said to go with them right then and there. I said no. I don’t know them. I have never seen them before. They say they know me; that they have been watching me my whole life, for fifteen whole years (now I know how old I am). They say the cameras have always been there, I just didn’t see them. They told me they were the ones who drove me nearly insane with curiosity about the outside world by locking all of the doors and making all of the walls and doors completely unbreakable. All of the windows completely boarded up. They say that was their motivation all along, to see if I would go crazy being all alone. They told me that all of the others are dying, and only I can save them. They asked me again to come and save them. They said even they would not be safe. I said no. What else was I to do? They looked at me, angry. No, I repeated, no. NO. Did they really think I would just come with them? That I would leave my safe haven just to be with other people? I have lived here fifteen years. I can handle another fifty years here by myself. I will not break. Daria

February 1, 2031 I won’t break, right? No. I won’t. I can be strong. Stronger than they think.

February 2, 2031 They’re back already. How was I supposed to react? Three days is not enough time to make a decision as important as this. What else could I have done other than tell them I needed more time to decide my decision? Lied? I doubt the consequences would have been beneficial. This is the best outcome. I can just keep asking for more time to decide forever. Eventually, they will understand. I can’t leave. This is the only place I know is safe. Daria February 4, 2031 I can’t do it again. No matter what I’ve told myself, I do want to know. Need to know. I must know why I am here, why I am so important. I must know the reason for my isolation, why they did this to me, why it is just over all of a sudden. It pains me to admit this. But I must, if I wish to remain sane. Daria February 6, 2031 They came back. I just don’t understand why I wasn’t strong enough. I told them I would come with them tomorrow. They would be back before I even realize they left, I know. They told me to pack everything, but there is nothing to pack. I do not expect to come back here. I will not miss it. Daria February 7, 2031 They’re here. February 8, 2031 I don’t know what I had been expecting of this world. Not this, though. Maybe I was unconsciously hoping for a party, welcoming me into the outside. Maybe some nature or at the very least a couple of flowers. Live ones, not like the completely dead ones still in the hospital rooms from when the facility was actually in operation. Instead, all I see for miles and miles is a barren wasteland. Nothing is alive. The only signs of life have been dead for years, flowers and bushes even more dried out than the ones I’m used

to. Looking around, I almost decided to simply change my mind and run back into the safety of the hospital. I have seen the outside, and it doesn’t look nice. Even living my life alone in an abandoned hospital is better than dying in this lonely desert. I’d rather be in a safe and lonely place than a dangerous and lonely one. The men in their dark suits pause a moment to let me take it all in. The big dark-haired one seems nicer, yet he still hasn’t told me his name. The smaller blond one seemed to want to hurry up, and they had a short, quiet conversation. The dark-haired one seemed exasperated as he told me we have to move on right now. It’s too dangerous out in the street. I asked him what the danger is. He ignored my question, and we kept walking into the vast expanse of nothingness. I look around as I write this, captivated by the empty terrain. I know it was once a very beautiful place to look at, but beauty is fleeting, especially beauty that can be destroyed by a few dry years. I still don’t understand what all of this has to do with me. I will keep walking. If I stop, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep going along with this. It hits me hard, right now. I can’t save everybody from this lifeless void. I don’t know if I can even save myself. I will just keep walking. Daria (To be continued)