Lucid Waking

They loved to dance.
They didn’t know why.
And when little girls frolicked
And little girls cried,
The little red shoes would glimmer and shine
For that special little girl to say,
“They’re mine.”

They loved to dance
And dance they would.
From the shadowy valley to the sun speckled wood.
They’d never stop dancing,
Through the kingdom they’d go:
Through dandelion powder and cotton wood snow,
Past mountains majestic and meadows so wide,
Past sea foam that tickled the sandy seaside,
Then back again to the girl’s humble abode,
Then out the front door to dance after a toad.

The girl they adored would sputter and pout
As she had to dance ‘til her life was worn out
But the shoes would continue as never before
Longing to dance forever more.

Filed under: Poems by Bri
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        It’s really sort of an unfortunate story. But hey, I’m a journalist I work with sad stories every day of the week. It’s getting to the point where I’ll just cry myself to sleep over all the horrible things going on. No one seems to give a damn any more. It’s depressing.
        Anyway, I was on assignment to interview a veteran. Only twenty-six years old. Depressing. Well, he was nice at first, making me tea and stuff. I had to get into the interview, but every time I tried he would stall. He played piano beautifully. He had quite an impressive video and record collection. His wife had a gorgeous garden. And they had quite a talented little dog. Yeah, he tried everything to distract me. It was kinda nice because I felt like I was with this old friend of mine and we had a lot of catching up to do. But I had a job and as much as I liked getting paid for drinking tea with an adorable twenty-eight year old, my boss wanted a story and I had to deliver. So I brought it down hard and asked him the first question.
        He sort of froze up after that. All he could say was that he had nightmares of all the mistakes he made and all the friends he lost in the war. He told me he tried to commit suicide and he started mixing chemicals in the basement in the hopes one of them would kill him. Even though he married his childhood sweetheart, she just didn’t seem attractive and lovely to him anymore. That made me even more depressed because I saw a picture of her and she was beautiful. He said he tried to find things he liked doing but every piano piece he played sounded like falling shells and his dog barking sounded like gunshots. He would wake up in the middle of the night afraid something was going to come down and smash him to pieces. He hated opening up jelly jars because he thought they would explode in his face. He never ate popcorn for the same reason. Therapy wasn’t helping because he didn’t think he could leave his wife to go to California (which they couldn’t afford anyway) in order to stay in therapy full time. He didn’t have any kids and he didn’t want any, which apparently killed his wife. She wanted them pretty badly and they’d often have fights about it, but he insisted he couldn’t handle it. He told her he’d kill them if he wasn’t careful. She told him to be careful and he said he wouldn’t even try.
        He said she worked as a stockbroker to sell stocks of companies that helped prolong the war. I said she didn’t mean to and he said, “all the same…”
        Anyway, we were depressed at the end. I tried to get him to play again or show me some more stuff that he had, but he said he didn’t feel like it. Last I heard he was in the hospital again for attempted suicide. Depressing isn’t it?
        That’s why I quite my job. That man was so happy before I had to screw up his day. So I decided to become a fiction writer instead. It’s much easier than addressing the actual pain. When someone wants to face it, they can pick up a newspaper. That’s their choice. I just don’t want to be the one to open up old wounds. It stings for everybody.

Filed under: Apocalypse, Realistic Fiction by Bri
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(Remember the original Madren’s Choice? Well, this is the beginning. It might make things a little clearer, but don’t read the other one unless you want to know what happens in the end before you find out what’s happening now. More will be added later.)

        “It seems like such a terrible waste,” Madren said, “of such a beautiful day.”
        Her sister, Mara, brushed a piece of gray hair out of her eyes. “Well if you would work faster, we’d be done quicker.”
        “Spoil sport,” Madren said, bending over to pick some more weeds out of the family vegetable garden. “What’s got you tied in knots?”
        “I don’t want to be stuck doing chores any more than you do,” Mara said.
        Madren smiled. “You told Sam you’d be there at three didn’t you?”
        Mara looked up quickly. “Don’t let mom know!”
        Madren pulled up a small tree that was growing in the yard and pretended to ignore her sister. Mara just sighed and continued raking. She was two years older than Madren and the oldest girl in the family. Her hair was charcoal silver, but her eyes were an electric blue and very striking.
        “When do you think these tomatoes will actually grow?” Mara asked, incredulously. “They’ve been flowering for months with no fruit!”
        “Pretty soon. That one has a little green—”
        Madren was cut off by a loud boom behind her and both girls dropped their things and turned to the noise. The screams of people and livestock along with yelling filled their quiet neighborhood. Smoke rose up from a house on the hill and the commotion was easily seen from their position below. Madren and Mara hopped their small log fence and ran to help.
        It was unclear what was going on and people were running back and forth shouting out orders and shoving buckets of water on the cottage. The lady of the house was running towards the town hall with her children, while her husband and other men who were around tried to put out the fire. Madren saw her brother and their father running back and forth from the stream in their field to the house. Even their youngest brother, Jacob, who was only ten years old, was struggling under the weight of a full water bucket. Madren ran to grab an empty bucket, but her eldest brother grabbed her wrist before she could fill it up.
        “Elix, what’s happening?” she asked.
        “Probably just an accidental fire. But stay with mom in case there are raiders.”
        Mara caught up to them and put her hand gently on Madren’s shoulder.
        “Take Jacob with you,” Elix ordered before another crack of the collapsing house sent him running back with a full bucket.
        Suddenly there was another crash and crack farther in towards town. Madren turned her back on it and ran to her house, with Mara close behind carrying Jacob. Someone yelled out “raiders” before Madren and Mara had reached the house. Jacob was crying.
        Madren shut the door and locked it, breathing a sigh of relief, but Mara was already searching the ground floor for their mother.
        “Mom?” Mara called out. Silence answered her call. Mara crept upstairs towards their bedroom. Madren heard her sister call out again, her voice trembling. Jacob started sobbing louder.
There was a crash of glass from another house nearby; the loud noise made Madren jump and Mara quickly descended the steps to the ground floor.
        “They’ve started burning the barn,” she said. She could barely keep her voice in control.
        “Let’s go down to the cellar,” Madren suggested and ran with her sister to the stairs in the kitchen. They had gotten the door shut just in time for their kitchen door to slammed open sending hundreds of dishes on a shelf crashing to the floor. These people were laughing and their voices were low. The humans went through her house, crashing things to the ground and pulling down tapestries off the wall.
        Jacob was too terrified to do anything and he sat in Mara’s arms staring at the wall over her shoulder. Mara moved silently and quickly behind their jam shelf and sat down on the floor. Madren quickly followed her. They listened to the noise above their heads in silence.
        “Stupid elves,” someone standing next to the door shouted.
        “Ah, but they have the best mead,” another answered. The group laughed and banged through the kitchen some more. Madren could feel her heart beating in her throat as she prayed they wouldn’t come down to the cellar. She heard the heavy footsteps of the men go upstairs and other leave to terrorize other areas. She could hear malicious laughter outside with the sudden cracks of burning wood and incessant screams. She could almost taste the blood and she realized she was biting her lip hard enough to make it bleed. Mara was pale, but calm and strong. She rocked Jacob back and forth gently.
        Finally the men left and the roar of fire was almost gone. Madren tentatively climbed the stairs. She knew Mara was too scared to object. But just as she reached the door, there was a blinding flash. She could feel the color green and then, her eyes saw black. She opened her eyelids.
        Nothing had changed. She looked around. The jars were still full on the shelves and nothing had collapsed. Outside, it was bright and sunny. The village was quiet and still. There were no more screams or crashing and silence filled the space.
        “I’m going to look around, Mara,” she said. Madren opened the door and stepped into her kitchen. She dodged broken bottles and shattered dishes to glance out the window to what it really looked like outside.
        The ground was covered in blood and ash. She couldn’t see who was killed, but the human men who had raided her village were carrying several bodies towards the center of town where she assumed they would set up a burial pyre. Her stomach tightened. The elves believed in reincarnation and the worst anybody could do for the dead was to cremate them.
        She was about to head back to the cellar when the door into her kitchen burst open again.
        “Hey!” a tall, auburn haired man called out. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be dead.”
        Madren turned to run, but he grabbed her arm and a fluid motion, slung her over his shoulder.
        “The General will sure be happy to see this little squirmer.”
        She smacked him with her fists hard, but he didn’t seem to notice. He brought her past dozens of houses towards the center of town. She saw shops burnt and livestock killed in the ensuing fight. She tried not to cry and focused on the ground at the man’s feet. Even the grass was completely gone and there was nothing left but barren earth.
        When he set her down she saw that the town hall had been kept in tact, but there were scorch marks on the outside of the building. The bodies of the town’s inhabitants were piled next to it, in front of the blacksmith’s shop. Smoke barreled out of the latter building, a sign she knew as a burning forge. One of the guards saw her and laughed at her before motioning for another person to join him. He whispered his orders before letting the second man go and crouched down to her level.
        “Don’t know how you slipped past,” he said starting to tie her hands with rope. She kicked him in the jaw and he fell backwards. Suddenly she was grabbed by at least half a dozen other people all pulling her in separate directions.
        “Fiesty one, huh?”
        She couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but she felt herself dropped and as she looked ahead again caught eyes with someone who was obviously in charge. He looked down at her and turned his head and spit.
        “Alive? That’s not right.” He kicked her hard in the ribs.
        “Maybe, the Lady’s—”
        “Don’t finish that sentence if you want to live,” the General said. The recruit who started the statement stepped back quickly to the ranks.
        “Call the Lady over here and tell her it’s an emergency,” the General said. “Now what to do with you,” he said stepping over Madren so he could seem taller. She shot out her tied legs into his shin.
        He laughed. “Nice try, you worm, but I’m not as weak as my captain.”
        He smacked her across the face.
        “What in the world is going on here?!” A woman on a silver white horse came galloping into the clearing. Her slanted eyes were tiger-lily orange and she wore a rather tight green leather armor. Her hair was blood red and was pulled up into a rather large bun. Protruding from her back were two large butterfly wings, which rustled in the small breeze.
        “One of my men found someone alive in the houses, my lady.”
        “Pah,” the woman led her horse forward. “All this trouble because of a live one.”
        “You had your promises.”
        “I intend to keep them, if you keep yours. Continue stacking bodies and then we’ll deal with this one special.”
        “You ugly spider!” Madren yelled. Everyone turned to her, some of the men close to laughter. Madren knew the fae loved their looks and even the best among them were terribly vain. Looking at this beautiful butterfly woman, it was the only thing Madren could think of to really sting. The woman on the horse turned bright red.
        “You little maggot!”
        “The same to you, mirror breaker.”
        The woman raised her hand and smacked the air. “That’ll teach you to sling insults at an upper fae.”
        “You—” Madren croaked and coughed. Her throat seized up and suddenly, became still. She tried to speak, but the words weren’t being formed and all the breath she pushed past her voice box became colomns of air.
        “That witch,” the upper fae said, spraying the ground with spit from her pronunciation. “Burn her alive.”
        But just as one of the near soldiers reached forward to grab Madren there was a gunshot. Everyone paused and in the following stillness the recruit that reached to grab her fell. Madren followed the line of motion, her heart beating fast. In the sudden silence, the fae had disappeared along with her silver steed.
        The General recovered first and turned towards the noise. “Ah, Mr. Aberdeen. Nice of you to arrive.” His voice dripped with superficial politeness and sarcasm.
        “Thank you, General.” The man was tall and cloaked. His gun disappeared quickly into the folds of his robe as he walked forward into the circle. His eyes were dark jade and his hair a chestnut brown. He glanced down at Madren before helping her to a standing position.
        “What do you think you’re doing?” someone yelled from the middle of the ranks.
        “Taking what the General owes me,” the stranger said.
        “You idiot,” the General said. “What makes you think you can barge in here and take this one? I’ve got orders to kill every last person in this stupid town and you’re not going to cause me to lose my head.”
        The stranger laughed. “Tell your employer one won’t make a difference in her calculations. But if you prefer, I could tell the gremlins you’ve been denying them payment for that favor they gave you.”
        The General cringed ever so slightly. “You! Cut her bonds,” he ordered. The stranger stood where he was. “I hope you realize I’m putting my life on the line.”
        “You should have remembered that before you made pacts with gremlins.”
        The General scoffed and waved his soldiers to continue salvaging for bodies. The stranger pushed Madren in front of him and continued walking down the road leading to the town. They walked until the day turned to dusk and Madren’s feet were cramping. She tried to get the stranger’s attention, but her voice wouldn’t work for her. Suddenly he pulled her off the road and through the forest to a large pine tree. He lifted up the bottom branches and pulled out his backpack. Then glancing at Madren’s weary expression, he sighed and broke of a couple of branches near the bottom of the tree in order to make room for them underneath it.
        “Sit down,” he said. Madren followed his orders. He pulled out food from his pack and handed her a small portion.
        “First I want to make it clear that whether you like it or not you’re property. Ever since your village has been sacked. Now, you belong to me so you’ll follow no ones orders but my own. Got it?”
        Madren nodded.
        “Don’t speak until spoken to and you’re going to sleep outside the shelter. I’ll feed you, but if you can catch game, all the better.”
        Madren stayed silent. She ached everywhere especially when she realized that this man who had saved her was no better than the General and his higher fae. At least, she thought, he wasn’t going to kill her.
        “What’s wrong?” he asked breaking her thoughts. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
        He reached over to pull her chin closer. “Hmmm. That’s what I thought.” He chuckled. “You must’ve gotten Lilly very angry indeed. Never insult a higher fae.”
        Madren rolled her eyes.
        “Well, we might as well start lessons. You’re going to learn to speak through telepathy. If you want to know how it works, ask a wizard. All I know is it’s very useful if you don’t want anyone to eavesdrop.” He chuckled at his own joke.
        “The technique is called Ped-ore,” he continued. “Have you heard of it?”
        Madren shook her head.
        “I’m not surprised. Just think of a sentence.”
         Ok. I’m cold, she thought.
        “You’re not thinking it hard enough. Everything you say has an emotion and when you’re just starting those emotions have to be strong to come through. Try again.”
        I’m freezing! she thought. She pulled the frozen pain from her toes and fingers and tried to add the worn out feeling in her legs and feet.
        You’re what? His voice echoed through her head. She shook it violently and thought again.
       I’m cold.
        Oh. Well too bad, he returned. He turned towards the base of the tree and leaned against it. Go to sleep.
        Madren tried to roll up in ball to conserve her body heat. She could barely feel her nose and she wondered why it was so cold.
        Because we’re getting into Northern territory, her companion said. The higher fae of this land is Shannondoa and she’s an ice fae. Not quite as angry as Lilly, but don’t go insulting her.
       I didn’t think you’d eavesdrop, Madren returned bitterly. But he didn’t seem to hear her.
        Go to sleep and don’t worry about it.
        Madren tried to use the leaves as cover, but it didn’t seem to work. Slowly, she let her natural instincts down and drifted off to freezing sleep.

Filed under: End of Childhood, Fantasy, God Teacher, Hero Cycle by Bri
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        “Now please stop the two playing,” said his mother said as she put a sizzling pot down off the stove to cool.
        Colan sighed and walked reluctantly toward the playpen.
        Screening was expensive and when Colan’s father was alive he helped the family squeeze just enough money for screens on the doors and for a playpen. Then, only Colan was a baby and even so the family was in debt for over a year. When Colan’s grandfather and father went with the army to get water for the town, Colan’s grandmother, mother, and aunt managed to get the family to rights again and out of debt. Soon after that the battalion came back, but only Grandfather returned to the family. No one exactly knew how his father disappeared, including his grandfather, who had lost sight of his son in the middle of a battle. Now, the playpen was old and had holes in it, but it would take a fortune to fix it.
        Colan went and picked up his cousin, Vick, trying to wrench away a little ball from his hands that his grandfather had brought him one day after returning from a water trip. Vick loved the ball and would often spend hours of time just rolling it between his hands. He was always a quiet child, but curious and even before he could walk the family had often found him somehow out of the playpen and crawling about the house. Since he learned how to use his legs, he was always wandering around the house and getting into even more trouble. When Grandfather brought the ball home, he gave it to Vick to hold onto, never intending for the boy to cling to it and never share.
        Colan sighed and watched Vick play for a while. Colan laid his hand on Vick’s forehead and quietly chanted the bliss hymn to let him be. There was an unspoken rule that his grandmother would never be satisfied unless he had done something to every child, though Colan didn’t know why. He wondered guiltily if he needed to chant to Grandmother more than the children.
        Kelly, his third and youngest cousin, was almost as grumpy as Grandmother in Colan’s opinion. She was having a temper tantrum for some reason unknown and beat Colan with her tiny fists when he held her to his chest for full effect of the hymn he was about to chant. Kelly was another child that no one could quiet, except for Colan and his father. Colan debated on what hymn to use and decided on his usual combination. First, he slowly started the silence hymn just starting with the introduction. Then, doing a transition that he improvised every time, went into the bliss hymn while etching horses and sunshine in her mind. Finishing off with the sleep hymn, he laid Kelly down in the playpen.
        By then his aunt and uncle had returned home, tired as always. His grandfather came sauntering into the house as soon as dinner was placed on the table. Colan admired his perfect timing, if not much else. His grandmother opened her eyes and wheeled over to the head of the table.
        “Mother,” Colan’s mother said testily. “Please don’t sit in Daniel’s spot.”
        “I’ll sit where I like,” his grandmother retorted. “You’ll say nothing of the sort.”
        His mother rolled her eyes, but said nothing more as she placed the steaming hot vegetable and lamb bowl in the center of the table. After retorting that Colan had taken too much to eat and not to be so greedy, his grandmother started off their dinner conversation, as she always did, with a little gossip.
        “Mother please,” Colan’s uncle said.
        “Nonsense,” she said, “what’s the use of being able to commune if you can’t use it?”
        Communing was a common trick that elderly witches who couldn’t use their powers in service often did. They were able to talk without ever leaving their houses and could do so silently without eavesdroppers. His grandmother had used her power as a fortuneteller and quite a famous one at that. She had worked in the service being able to accurately predict the motives and moves of the opponent they were fighting. She could predict the future and read minds, which Colan was sure hadn’t gone away. Luckily for her, she had gotten so well at her art, she needed to only concentrate to be able to perform a spell.
        Colan’s uncle rolled his eyes.
        “Silvia is looking for new nursemaids,” Colan’s grandmother said looking at her younger daughter-in-law, “no one knows how she got pregnant, but there are some rumors.”
        “Her last husband died from pneumonia, didn’t he?” Colan’s mother asked as she spooned out more dinner onto hers and Colan’s plates.
        “In that last rainstorm, yes, he did,” his grandmother answered back. “Jenna, you might want to look for a job, there,” she said to her younger daughter-in-law.
        Colan’s aunt blushed. “I don’t think so, mother.”
        His grandmother opened her mouth for a witty retort, but stopped herself and took another bite of food.
        “There seems to be quite a demand for young recruits,” Colan’s grandfather said turning to Colan. “There’s one place you haven’t looked and they’re looking long and hard for magis.”
        “Don’t be ridiculous, Charles,” his grandmother said, gaining her speech again. “You can’t possibly expect the boy to go into the service. He’s not even trained in his art and besides,” she said taking a sip of milk from her wooden goblet, “he doesn’t have the build.”
        Colan blushed.
        “Furthermore,” she continued, “I don’t think it would be good for him to march right into a death trap. The only reason they’re asking for more recruits is because there seem to be more fire dragons and dust wolves than ever before and they keep losing people in the fight.”
        “So you don’t just get gossip from those little chats of yours,” Grandfather said under his breath. But it didn’t matter how loud he said it, she still turned red and huffed out angrily.
        “I’ll help you clear the table, Maggie,” Aunt Jenna said rising from her chair and grabbing a couple plates that she could reach. Her stomach bulged under the blue dress she was wearing ever so slightly, but enough for her step to become cumbersome. She smiled at her husband as she walked towards the kitchen with their plates.
        Colan started to get up, but his grandfather stopped him and put his hand on his shoulder. Colan’s uncle got up from his seat and walked towards the bookshelf where their prayer books were held. Almost as important as the meal itself was the prayer afterwards in thanks for it. The service seemed the only thing keeping the family together, Colan remarked, as his grandfather opened up the books once everyone was seated again and began speaking in the ancient desert tongue various words of faith to their goddess, Alorian. She had supposedly saved the world from destruction by covering it with sand, the one thing the demons could not stand because whenever they looked up at the humans above to play tricks on them and kill them, it would get in their eyes and they were blinded. Colan had always wondered why she had created the dust wolves and fire dragons if her sand would be enough protection. And why her other creatures had to kill the villagers to be able to survive. But such talk was sacrilegious and would most likely get him punished severely by more than just his grandmother.
        When they finished everyone got ready for bed. His mother placed a plate of food outside for the desert spirits, guardians, and holy subjects of goddess Alorian and then went to her room with the other children, alone as always. Colan listened at his thin door as she shut the door and blew out her candle. He had listened to her tell countless stories to his family, but tonight, for some reason, she did not bother with her usual evening ritual. Close to getting out of bed and going down the hall, Colan heard his grandmother get up and go to her daughter-in-law’s room and shut the door.
        His grandmother must have performed a silent charm because he did not hear their voices, though he knew the walls were not thick enough to cover them up. He was afraid of what they were saying: that he needed to find an apprenticeship before he was too old. He also knew shortly after that, he was going to be pressured to find a wife and the prospect of both, scared him just a bit. He knew he had to grow up, but he wasn’t sure he was ready and with his father gone, completely lost as to how he was suppose to get there.

Filed under: Fantasy by Bri
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        He was supposed to be inside helping his mother with the housework, but it was too tempting and too easy to sneak out of the busy house. He sat down on the ground and stared at the open expanse of the desert he loved. He eyed the sunlit purple mountains covering the horizon longingly, shooting up into the rainbow painted sky as the shadows fell down to the base of the range. The wind rustled his short brown hair lovingly as small cloud of dust flew playfully across the ground several miles from his position. Faintly someone called to him above the usual evening din of the town.
        “Colan!” his worried mother called.
        Colan got up slowly and turned around towards the village. He knew that he shouldn’t have wandered from home, especially with all the trouble that his mother had been having trying to raise a family on her own. But it was more interesting out there than in the village. The expanse of the desert was much more seductive than the daily life of the town.
        He slipped through the marketplace where people bustled to and fro with their last minute shopping before the shops closed. A man held up food to the light and complained of the price. A mother bounced her child on her hip trying to figure out if she could afford cloth for new clothes. He could practically describe what daily life was in his sleep. Every day was cliché and he was tired of living the same basic hour over and over again.
        He entered the residential district and went around the edge. Colan wasn’t in the mood to go down the main street and talk, especially since he was most likely pulled away for chores and needed to get home fairly quickly or else he would punished for dawdling. He slipped through the front door of his house and winced at the noise. It was the typical sight: three screaming children and two playing, his mother preoccupied by cooking and trying to hush the children, and his grandmother meditating on the rocking chair in the corner. His grandfather had probably gone to the pub only to be home at dinner, his aunt was helping the weavers at the small factory, and his uncle worked at building more structures wherever the government saw fit. In any case, the only person to notice his arrival was his mother, who brushed a piece of dark brown hair out of her sweaty face and frowned.
        “Come please, Colan,” his mother whined as she pushed a boiling pot off the stove to keep the fire burning, “Help, with the children and aid grandmother’s head ache.” The house was hot and sticky and the smell wafting out of the kitchen was barely recognizable and most certainly not appetizing.
        Colan sighed and expelled his emotions with his breath. He picked up his baby sister, April, and bounced her up and down on his knee. He recalled the day she was born, the first of April, and he had first seen his baby sister; clean from the bath and rosy pink. He had wanted to name her, but his parents both insisted that they stay with traditions and name her after the month she was born as all the other children were who were born on the first of the month. It was considered lucky and the children who were, often had special festivals hosted by the government in honor of their birthday. Colan sighed and brushed April’s hair out of her wet, tear-stained face. She was almost two years old and knew nothing about her father. But none of them did; Colan didn’t even remember him very well any more.
        Colan’s only true connection to his father was through the ancient meditative hymns that his father had taught him. Every magus had a different requisite for which they can perform magic. Colan’s father could heal through music and Colan was lucky enough to inherit his father’s ability. He knew not every child born to a magus inherited the gift, but gifted though he was, it was not honorable to have to use his ability so often for such menial tasks.
        Colan closed his eyes and cleared his brain, focusing on April’s tired cries. Rule one, he thought, clear your mind. Rule two, focus on your goal. Carefully focusing on sleep, he placed his hand on her forehead and started to hum. He could feel the music came from his soul and exited through his hand. April’s blue eyes closed gently. He placed her down carefully; praying that the remaining noise and heat wouldn’t wake her.
        Next, Colan picked up Sandborn, his brother. Sandborn was always very fussy, but didn’t misbehave. His sister’s fussing was enough to set him screaming and crying for attention. Yet, Colan seemed to be the only one who could quiet him, which caused many problems when Colan was away from home looking for an apprenticeship now that his father was gone. Colan again cleared his mind and tried to use an easy trick to distract Sandborn. He reached over and laid his hand on Sandborn’s forehead slowly manipulating his younger brother’s mind’s eye to see small colors of light flit in and out of his vision. Sandborn was not truly upset, as Colan supposed, so as soon as Colan had him distracted, he was silent.
        Finally, Colan picked up his cousin, Sabra and easily put her to sleep.

Filed under: Fantasy by Bri
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Seven English roses in a garden set for tea,
With watercress sandwiches and potpourri.
Dressed in their Sunday finest and fresh
Dew drops settling on their velvety flesh.
They gossip with the butterflies,
And sing softly to the cerulean skies.
Daintily downing their herbal drink
They’re much too happy to even think.
But soon the garden party must be done,
The roses are left to soak up the sun.
Out of their Sunday finest they go,
Back to donning holly and mistletoe.
But never is a rose’s gossiping done,
And they chitter and chatter until night has come.
And in each other’s company they stay
For the garden party the very next day.

Filed under: Poems by Bri
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“Where are you going my sweet?” the woodpecker said to the swan.
“Down to the river to get a drink of the sweetest mulberry wine.
“Then I’ll dance under the moon
“And sing for the lilacs, too,
“And come home before the sun signals dawn.”

“Perhaps my love, a different date would serve you all the well,
“If instead you stayed with me, under the catalpa tree
“Sipping strawberry rhubarb tea
“Until the sun signals the dawn.”

“Oh no, my love that wouldn’t be a proper compromise.
“I think that you and I should be
“Separate, though in comradery,
“And I will leave you to your tree,
“As the sun is signaling dawn.”

The woodpecker sighed and watched her go,
Past the cherry blossom snow,
Through the water and misty haze
Contemplating his sacrifice of sleep.

Filed under: Poems by Bri
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            The room he had opened up was obviously a pantry. There were shelves filled with dry food and various barrels of salted fish and meats. A few wine bottles were on the higher shelves. Candles were in a box on the lower shelf along with various plates, silverware, and cooking utensils. Pots and pans lay opposite to it. Near the back of the room, the shelves stopped and there were two counters, a stove, and an oven. Devin stepped into the pantry silently. The ceiling was relatively high and supported by the height of the shelves. There was a large pipe to allow the stove to ventilate leading away from the kitchen and upward. I didn’t know where it came out above, but it was probably well concealed.
            Devin turned around and slunk back out of the kitchen and closed the door behind him carefully. He brushed the ground around it with his boot, but he didn’t find anything and walked off. The door on the opposite end of the cellar, where Edward has said was the thieves’ inn, was also well concealed. The doorknob was a piece of wood attached to the brick and tucked under the edge of a shelving unit. Devin knocked on the door and when no one answered opened it up.
            Only a few people were still sleeping, including that straw-haired girl we had seen last night. The room was filled with cots organized in a grid with a small space to walk in between. Blankets were folded on pillows on the empty beds and there were shelves higher up with clothes, hairbrushes, and mirrors. The right wall lead to a hallway to two sets of bathrooms, each with doors. Devin didn’t walk inside, but slipped out so quietly not a single sleeper stirred.
            Another secret door lead to a large dining area. A trap door in the floor led down to more bedrooms. Near the king’s bedroom was obviously a dungeon area with cages and torture devices. I could tell Devin was enjoying himself because of how meticulous he was. He wanted to find doors and traps and locks…he wanted to explore. Perhaps because of this, he found something he shouldn’t have.
            We were in the throne room again one last time before I had to leave, when Devin notices a small handle on the floor. The door would have been underneath a rather large table, but Devin shoves it asides and pulls up. The hinges creak with misuse, but by the time I can check over my shoulder, Devin has slipped under the door and has gone down a flight of stairs to the bottom. I decide to wait at the top.
            The room is dark, but there is a candle near the stairs. He lights it carefully and started around the perimeter of the room. I couldn’t pick up a clear connection to what he saw, but he was scared. Suddenly there were footsteps outside the throne room.
            “Someone’s coming,” I signal closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep. “Stay there.”
            I started getting calm when I remembered the table was moved from its previous spot. But as an excellent thief does, I stayed calm and pretended it was like that when I got there.
            The footsteps went towards the door and entered into the room, but whoever it was didn’t go near me and just collected the empty plates of food from the party the previous night and left. Devin probably felt the same relief I did because as soon as the other person left, he opened the door and pushed me off of my spot.
            “I didn’t know you were there,” he said.
            “I’m fine, but what was down there?”
           “Things I probably shouldn’t discuss.”
           “Devin, be rational! I’m your bestia; no one is going to overhear.”
           Devin paled. “He seems to have an unhealthy obsession with the Duchess of Auiriger. So much so it looks like he’s sacrificed people to her.”
          My whiskers felt on edge. “Lovely.”
          Just then another set of foot prints were heard as a little white mouse slipped into the room.
         “I thought I’d show you where we’re meeting,” Luna said.
         “That time already?” I said nonchalantly. “I’ve got to go,” I said to Devin. He shrugged and made his way out with us. Once we were outside, Luna and I went another way then him as he made his way back towards town. We went to the bridge to cross the creek and then skipped back around to a large tree on the edge of the grazing field. Diego, Hex, and Gina were all waiting for us. Luna stepped up neatly and bowed to Deigo, who was already perched on a branch above us. I bowed my head lightly just to be polite.
        “We’ll just wait for Osirus,” Diego said, bitterly. “Then we can start our meal. It’s just about ready.”
        “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves, your highness,” Luna said quietly.
        “Yes, please do.”
        I rolled my eyes softly. “I’m Miaka,” I said.
        “Luna,” the mouse said. “Second to the throne.”
        “Hex,” the rabbit said smiling.
        “Gina,” the parakeet sang. She ruffled her wings.
        “Please to meet you all,” I said.
        “And I’m Osssirusss,” someone hissed behind me. I turned to see a light green garter snake creep up to the rest of the crowd.
        “Miaka,” I said and the snake nodded.
        “Well now that we’re all here,” Diego said flying down from his perch. “We can start eating. He hopped from the ground into the base of the tree. It was a bit of a tight squeeze for me, but the birds had graciously flown above us to eat while Luna, Osirus, Hex, and I were down below. My back was thoroughly smashed against the trunk of the tree.
        The meal was meager of a few meats, vegetables, and seeds from local garbage piles. I wondered what sort of skullduggery passed for thievery these days that I, as a bestia, could steal better than this. But I ate in polite silence while Luna nervously nibbled across from me.
        “Perhaps you could tell us, sire, why we’re all gathered here?” Hex said quietly. He wiggled his nose impatiently.
        “Just a bit of information to make sure things go smoothly.”
        “Wait a minute,” Gina said. “You think King Jack will let this new boy into his court? He seemed adamantly against it yesterday.”
        “Besides,” Luna said. “It wouldn’t be fair to let Devin get special hints that the other boys didn’t get.”
        “I have plans,” Diego said.
        “Perhaps you could share them,” Hex said politely.
        “Somewhere else than here,” I added. They all looked at me, surprised and a little insulted. “I’m squished and refuse to debate this in a tree!”
        “But this is where we always go,” Luna squeaked.
        “I think both are legitimate requests,” Diego said and flew out of the hole in the tree. I followed the rest of the royal court out and across the field to a small hill.
        “I hope to unite the thieves’ guild,” Diego started, “by allowing Devin a certain position among the King’s staff. Not the court…just his staff. That will allow Jack to keep his position above his people while allowing Devin to stay.”
        “Why not let the boy go?” Gina asked.
        “His people already know that there is another bestiafama running around and if he is as good as to steal the Rasha Ruby, then we can assume that he will create a good reputation around himself. This reputation will take away from Jack’s and the court. So far, Jack has the best thieves’ guild around. If Devin leaves, Jack will no longer have the best thieves, his reputation could be undermined by Devin’s, and another small guild would most certainly take advantage of Devin’s skills. Therefore, its to Jack upmost advantage to keep Devin around.”
        “That seems logical,” Luna said, “but Jack was very upset about a threat to his position.”
        “True, but if Jack keeps Devin in a smaller role and keeps his accomplishments a secret, to the people, Jack has maintained his power and reputation as being the best and Devin is under his control.”
        “How is this to Devin’s advantage?” I asked.
        The raven smiled, if I could say what he was doing was a smile. “He gets food, shelter, a place to stay, and plenty of opportunities to steal.”
        “Devin does not steal because he likes to. He does it because he has to.”
        “Perhaps, but after a time, one passes up so many opportunities to be something honorable that it is silly to deny that one steals because it is thrilling.”
        I wanted to come up with something to counter such logic, but I didn’t. It wasn’t that I couldn’t, for I probably could come up with something equally witty if I tried, but there was some part of truth in that. Especially, if Devin found out how good he was and being a thief. I knew the time of him making that his calling would come with future events. I thought it best not to worry about that argument.
        “Let’s say we give Devin an unfair advantage over all of us and he gets into the guild, again. What’s to say King Jack will actually let him stay?” Hex said.
        “Nothing really,” Diego said. “But it would make a better argument.”
        “Dare I ask,” Osirus cut in. “How does this advantage us?”
        Diego looked at him as if he had just arrived. “If you have the best thief in your guild and you are on court, it makes your position in power even larger and more impressive.”
        “All right,” Luna said. “Everything sounds good to me, but I still don’t think its fair tell Miaka any hints.”
        “Why not?” Diego said.
          “Well, if Devin doesn’t succeed, his reputation will fall. He won’t be admitted into the guild and all this planning and manipulation won’t matter.”
        “But he’s already in the guild,” Hex said. “Don’t forget.”
        “He hasn’t has his initiation,” Gina answered. “Technically, he isn’t in.”
        “Yes he did,” Hex said. “The ruby. He’s in the guild, King Jack announced it yesterday, and everyone heard him.”
        “I agree,” I said. Everyone turned to stare at me as if I was crazy. I smiled involuntarily at the foolishness of the situation. “Allow me to speak as a partial observer of the situation. Devin was initiated yesterday evening in front of the Den’s party for stealing the Rasha Ruby—a rather difficult gem that Jack had told John to get because he believed Devin could never actually steal it. John neglected to tell Jack that Devin was a bestiafama, the fact slipping his mind when he saw the ruby. Jack allowed him to join the guild. Now, Jack wants another initiation to buy him time to make up his own mind about whether to allow Devin to stay, but according to the guild’s members, Devin is among them. Am I correct so far?”
        “Yes,” Diego said, frowning slightly. Or what was the closest to a frown a raven could get.
        “Jack’s bestia, Diego, is planning on convincing Jack to let Devin stay in the guild, of which he is already a member, in order to strengthen ties between Jack and the people by having Devin do the dirty work for Jack’s reputation as the best thief in the empire, strengthen the reputation of the guild, and prevent a political collapse when the people lose faith in their king because another bestiafama is running about either alone or with another guild. If Devin succeeds, the king’s reputation is either destroyed or saved, depending on whether or not Devin stays. If Devin fails, the outcome is the same.
        “You, Diego, want your king to succeed, so you would have Devin succeed at any cost at which point, Jack would see how good a thief he is and use him to do dirty jobs that he had trouble with. Jack would then appear to be an amazing thief in a world-famous guild that would become legendary. It seems to me everything is in a delicate balance that will collapse all because of a couple things you have overlooked.”
        “And what are these things?” Diego demanded.
        “Several I cannot foresee. But think: what if, even with your information, something happens and Devin fails? Or if you think Jack will send him on a mission to steal a fabled diamond and in fact, he has to assassinate a duke? Even look at us! What if one of us tells our connections what we have spoken about here and then Jack finds out? What if one of the boys just happens to overhear our connection? There are many I’m sure fate will figure out, but these are a few I could think of right now. While I appreciate your help, I think it would be best if we don’t get any hints. We’ve worked well enough without them; we should be fine.
        “I actually agree,” Osirus said. “She has many very valid pointsss.”
        “Well then its settled,” Luna said. “We won’t help Devin tonight. King Diego will convince King Jack of his plans, and hopefully everything will go well. I wish you both the best of luck.”
        “As do I,” Hex answered.
        “And I,” Gina said.
        “Then it’s settled,” Diego said. “I will go talk to Jack.”
        Osirus laughed as everyone else left. “He seems to forget I am involved as well.”
       “You do not speak much,” I said rather more pointedly than I had expected.
       “No, but when I do, I say exactly what needs to be heard.”
        I walked on with him in silence before realizing that Devin was still out and about on his own. I excused myself and tried to find him.

Filed under: End of Childhood, Fantasy by Bri
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        Devin was starting to wake up; the awareness was melting softly into his thoughts. I reached his side with breakfast and then jumped up onto the chair. I would have enough warning if the king came in. Devin coughed and sat up to look around the room. His mouth was dry, but I had placed his breakfast somewhere he would see it and he took up the meat hungrily. I watched him carefully, though I knew he was ignoring me. He was very good at closing the connection. He smiled at me, though, and reached out to scratch me behind the ears. Then he started eating and pretended not to know me.
        “It’s not my fault,” I said to him pushing hard our connection.
        “I don’t want you to screw this up, again.” His voice broke clearly into my thoughts. I jumped down from the chair in case I was too distracted from our conversation to notice someone coming in and catching my faux pas.
        “Again? It seemed to be John’s fault, not my own. Or if you really want to be picky, blame yourself for thinking you’d be all right.”
        “Mia, I don’t want to think about it.”
        “Well, then don’t think about it. But stop closing the connection if you don’t want to screw this up tonight. Besides, the bestia seem to be very suspicious of two connected not speaking to each other.”
        “How do they know?”
        “There is a way to figure out if two are talking through eye contact or facial expression and nonverbal communication—its as if two beings are talking without saying anything. When you get older, you’ll know. But for now, take if from me, please, that it is better to have a healthy open connection at this point. And trust me that I won’t screw things up. When have I so far?”
        “Give me a minute,” he smiled, “and I’ll think of something.”
        “If it takes you that long, I think you’re in safe hands.”
         He reached his hand out and petted the side of my face.
        “You’d best get clean,” I said, pulling away, “you don’t know where we’re going and we might need you presentable.”
        “Whatever,” he said, getting up. He walked out of the room into the main part of the cellar and snuck outside to the water pump outside. I told him to be careful, but he just told me there was no one out but the cows. I curled up underneath the throne and waited for him.
        I wasn’t prepared for a little white mouse to open the door and scuttle across the floor to my location. I recognized her instantly as Luna, but I decided to continue pretending to be asleep when she came. She cleared her throat daintily.
         “Miss Miaka,” she said and waited.
         I opened one eye. “Yes?”
         “King Diego wishes to meet with you over lunch today. He says he has some information to give you and all of us should be present.”
         “If I must,” I said and Luna gave a little gasp.
         “Of course you must! No one says no to the king.”
         “Of course they do,” I said smiling. “Most don’t live to tell the tale.”
         Luna squeaked before scuttling off in the other direction and almost heading straight into Devin’s boot. New boots, I should say. I sputtered an apology as the mouse ran off back towards the King’s chambers.
         “What was that about?” he asked. He was still sopping wet, so I let him stay in the corner where he couldn’t get me wet.
         “The menagerie wishes to speak politics,” I said. “Where did you get those boots?”
         “They were sitting outside.” He turned his ankle and admired them proudly. “They weren’t covered in cow cakes, so I thought they were good.”
         “I hope they’re not the king’s,” I said.
         “The king wasn’t there. If they are, I’ll just tell him I took them so no one would get suspicious.”
         “It’s your life on the line,” I said.
         “Well, why don’t you go look and see if he’s missing his shoes,” Devin said bitterly. “But my feet were cold and I didn’t want to get them dirty.”
         “What about your other boots?”
         “They’re too small for me.”
         “I hope these work just as well.”
         “I don’t see why not,” he said. “They’re not that much bigger than my feet.”
         “Well, triple knot the laces before we go on that job. And don’t get any more clothes. I don’t want you to trip.”
         “Fine,” he said paling. I could tell I had said the wrong things, but I couldn’t take it back. I put all the faith I had in those boots to stop my mind from worrying. Perhaps it would make him less jumpy. He did seem to relax a little bit as he practiced hanging onto the wall to see if the souls would slip. They did work almost perfectly, but he compromised the little slippage with the muscles in his legs and arms.
         “You’ll be fine,” I said honestly. The door opened just then and an ash-haired boy entered the room.
         “There you are,” he said. “John was wondering where you stayed the night.”
         “I’m sorry.”
         “No, it’s all right,” he said. He extended his hand. “I’m Edward.”
         Devin shook the boy’s hand. “Devin.”
         “I know,” the boy walked over to the table where the food was and sat on it. “You could’ve stayed in the bunks.”
         “I don’t think the King would’ve—”
         “Not with Jack; we’ve got cots on the other side. Some people of the den stay there.”
         “I didn’t know—”
         “You could’ve asked.”
         I glanced around the floor while this conversation was going on and noticed that beside me, they were alone. I wasn’t sure if Edward noticed I was there, but I thought it odd he didn’t bring Osirus while he was awake. But it wasn’t that odd. Luna probably left John to go invite me to lunch and I’ve left Devin to hunt or stake out certain areas. I watched the door for the snake.
         “I don’t think the King or his court would have liked me asking where I could have slept last night.”
         “How’d you get in here anyway? It’s usually locked.”
         Devin reddened. “I picked it.”
         Edward laughed. “A thief through and through. Except that I’ll have to find a new lock, you seem to show good potential.”
         “Thanks,” Devin said puzzled.
         “Anyway, just thought I’d say hello.”
         “Ok.”
         Edward waved on his way out and left the room as silent and dark as before. Devin waited a little while before leaving the room. I followed after him. He was brushing his hand against the wall and scuffing his foot against the floor gently, brushing bits of dirt away from the brick. Then he pushed against the wall and it gave way in a quiet little scrape of stone on stone.
         “This place has got to be full of doors,” he said under his breath.

(Previous Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Filed under: End of Childhood, Fantasy by Bri
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        The Silver Swan Apartments was a very tall building right next to the lake. It sat on the end of its block, but there were more apartment buildings continuing on the next block. She parked her car in the parking lot in an open space and took a deep breath of the fresh air. She walked in and stepped towards the first door that said: Landlady.
        The woman that opened the door did not look very kind. She was stout and short, looking like a very disgruntled fairy godmother. Her silver hair was in hot pink curlers and she had managed to scrunch into a pair of overalls over her nightgown. The apartment behind her smelled like apple pie and kitty litter. The woman took one look at Clara and then took a step backwards and closed the door. Clara was confused, and a bit hurt as she stood their not knowing what to do. On the left side of the hall though, opened a window, and the stout woman appeared through it.
        “I like to see when my tenants are coming and going,” she said in a surprisingly gruff voice. Clara nodded like she understood the woman’s nosiness.
        “What do you want?” she asked before Clara could cut to the chase.
        “I’m interested in the room for rent.”
        “I thought so. Why didn’t you call?”
        “I called on the way,” Clara said. After realizing in her haste that she hadn’t even called to see if the room was available, Clara had marched back up the stairs and called the number before leaving again.
        “Are you that girl that just called?”
        “Yes, I’m Clara White.”
        “Hmm. I don’t remember that conversation. Oh, well.”
        "May I see the apartment?”
        “Sure, I don’t have anything better to do today.” The woman closed the window and then left her room through the door. She beckoned for Clara to follow her up the stairs to the third floor.
        “You can have pets free of charge, but if they ruin the carpeting they are out without a warning. I’m not going to have a repeat of that stupid nervous Chihuahua piddling all over the carpeting. Oh, that was a pain.”
        The woman was huffing by the time she reached the door and pulled out a large ring of keys. She slipped one into the lock and opened the door smoothly.
        The door opened into a large, bright living space. There were honeycomb blinds on the windows on the walls across from her and on her right. The wall on the right led to a hall and next to the door she was standing in was a small coat closet. Like promised, she could see a wonderful view of the lake from the back window.
        The hallway had two doors on the right and a large linen closet and bathroom on the left. The hall led to a particularly large kitchen with more window views of the lake and an island kitchenette. The left wall of the kitchen had a door that went to the balcony, which she saw extended to her bedroom a little ways away. The sun was starting to set on the lake, casting a tangerine glow on the black water. The wind rustled her red hair and she felt…not relaxed, but rejuvenated.
        The landlady coughed, breaking her ecstasy. “I have a lot of people asking about this room, so I need to know if you’re going to have it today.”
        “Today?”
        “Yes today!”
        “Well I have a lot of questions to ask first.”
        “We’ll go downstairs and ask them, but I want an answer soon on whether or not you’re taking it.”
        “Why haven’t you leased this out sooner if it’s so popular?” Clara said a little more irritated than she had hoped.
        “Well? What are your questions?”
        “How often to I have to pay rent and how much is it?”
        “550 a month. Every payment is due by the first of the next month. You lease it out for a year.”
        “550! The ad said 500!”
        “Does it?” the woman wrinkled her nose. “No wonder I can’t get that apartment rented.” She looked Clara up and down. “What do you do for a living?”
        “I’m a writer,” she said. “I work at 1740 Bedford Street downtown where I edit the Arts and Entertainment section of the local paper and I edit various stories wanting to be published.”
        “How much do you get paid a year?”
        “$15,000.”
        “Any hope of a promotion?”
        “I just had a promotion.”
        “I guess I’ll give it to you for 500. But don’t ruin it or I’m adding to your rent.”
        “Does this include heat, electricity, gas, and water?”
        “Of course! What kind of a place do you think I have? We’ve got laundry on the premise, but that’ll cost you extra. You can have pets, but like I said, take care of them. I don’t want any unusual stains on the carpeting. If you want my opinion, get fish. If you want to change the length of your lease at the end of the year, you can. Parking’s in back but spaces are first come, first serve. Anything else you have to pay for yourself. Oh, and you can swim in the lake if you want, the beach is about a mile west.”
        “What sort of security do you have?”
        “I’ve got a shotgun and a window to the entrance.”
        “That it?”
        The woman laughed. “We’ve also got state of the art locks on the all the doors and an automatic burglary system for the front door. But you’re on the third floor, no one should get in through the window.”
        “Well,” Clara sighed. “When can I sign and move in?”

Filed under: Realistic Fiction by Bri
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