Lucid Waking

Archive for the ‘Paradise Lost’ Category

Dilmun

        Eleven o’clock is pitch black. You’re walking a dog, but it’s too late at night. It can’t be the real reason you’re out, it really can’t. But you can’t remember why you’re there. You can’t remember anything.
        No drugs in your system, but your vision is cloudy and your head is light. The dog leads you around the block faithfully, but you aren’t sure which house is yours or where the dog came from. It pulls hard against the leash and you follow it, unsure of where you’re going.
        Dawn’s pallid head appears on the horizon and you can finally see in the growing light your destination. The dog sniffs at a piece of iron sticking out of the ground like a sign. You read the words:

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A Book

        It occurred to her, in the early morning hours, that perhaps the most unexplainable situation was the most possible. She got up and wrote her epiphany in her journal. As her head went back down upon the pillow, her mind reminded her that it was entirely possible then, that Jack had indeed killed the man and was just pretending that he didn’t. It was just a hunch, but she was sure he was guilty. She whisked off the covers again and wrote this new thought down. Then she thought angrily that if she continued like this through the night, she would never get any sleep and she needed to sleep if she was going to get to the bottom of the case.
        It was only a silly little book, but it kept her thinking throughout the day. She relished every page of the one thousand leafed wonder, but her obsession of figuring out its puzzle was making her tired. She wanted to know the answer, but every chapter she read brought her back to square one. She hated and loved the book at the same time. It was enjoyable, but it was driving her crazy, keeping her up, and ostracizing her from any social activities she might have been doing. Her life slipped away from her until one rainy evening when she had flipped the final page of the book.
        She had been wrong, of course, Jack didn’t do it—his wife did—but it wasn’t finding out that she was wrong that disappointed her. The book was finally finished and the marathon-like climax and resolution had left her wasted and empty. She had nothing to keep her occupied and her mind rewound the last scenes in a flurry of fleeting memories. She tried to hold on to the mystery, but once read the book had no secrets and became meaningless.
She stood up, but not having anything else to do, she sat down again. The phone rang and she picked it up, favoring the human voice on the other end.
        “Shall we go to tea tomorrow?” her friend said cheerfully.
        “Yes.”

Perfectland

            Cool, soft rain and warm caressing sunshine was the only weather. No one had to worry about winds whipping shelters to and fro, destroying everything in their paths. People almost forgot the fear of pelting rains and lightening storms to destroy the perfect nature. Some days, the sky was unspoiled by clouds, and the sun gently lit up the earth. Other days a light, but cheerful gray covered the sky, but allowed the sun’s light to shine through.
            Trees were allowed to live in harmony with people, and stood proud among the landscape. People kept the land clean and free of litter, although the occasional refuse pile for bones, nutshells, or seeds as well as human waste hidden in the forests. There were no plastic, glass, or paper containers strewn about the backwoods. The oceans were a blue-gray and had no refuse lying on the sides by the shore as an after thought. One could almost see the fish swimming, waiting to catch their breakfast on the surface. Various colors swam under the water, flitting back and forth in and out of sight. Sand was soft and faded gently into water; the water would leave fragile lines where it kissed the shore.
            Some of the predators helped the humans get food, but mostly the animals left them alone. They lived with each other, only taking enough food for from another species for themselves or a pack and leaving the rest to tend their ways. The animals lived anywhere, and were seen often by the shores and the forest, though occasionally they would venture out to the fields or human villages. They did not terrorize the people and the people generally left them alone.
            Children would come during their daily play sessions and try to play with the animals; the parents weren’t afraid because they knew the animals wouldn’t hurt the children. People lived believing what they wanted and didn’t force people to believe what they believed. The civilizations were excellent at weaving and painting and would use these as money. They would often have something another person made and so no one had anything someone else didn’t; there was no need for crime. The people lived their lives creating masterpieces and watching children, contently in paradise.

Freaks

            The freak show was in town and the only reason Alison was going was because James invited her. She would have never indulged in the crude practices the rest of her town enjoyed in, but she, like every other girl, couldn’t say no to James’ imploring smile. So in the middle of a slight drizzle, she was walking hand in hand with a tall, dark skinned, dark haired boy waiting to go into a large candy-cane circus tent. She sighed inaudibly and pretended that she was waiting in line at the cinema. James smiled back at her.
            “I heard they have a good batch this year,” he told her excitedly. “And the human tree is coming back.”
            Well, this isn’t the most romantic thing you could’ve done, she thought. But the more she kept looking at him, the less annoyed she got. She was too busy staring at his high cheekbones and sparkling eyes to notice him hand her a ticket and usher her inside.
            And she kept focusing on him in order to get her through the laughter at the unfortunate people on stage. Finally the laughter stopped and the people shifted excitedly. The announcer called out the derogatory term assigned to this person and the lights lifted on an empty platform. People booed and hissed as the master of ceremonies looked around nervously.
            “Ah, well,” the master of ceremonies said clearing his throat, “they must not have been able to get him out of his cage.”
            James stopped voicing his displeasure and started to take Alison’s hand. “Let’s go,” he said, but stopped as the crowd cheered again. Lumbering up to the stool under the light and being led like a dog from a chain around his neck was a large lumbering man looking much like a gorilla. His dark skin was scarred from whips and his sunken eyes were dull. The man had high cheekbones and identical smooth graceful hands to the one she was holding. James paled and stared silent at the new victim. A few minutes went by as people shouted and threw things at the man before Alison felt a tug on her hand and was sent flying through the crowd towards the exit. She was barely able to squeak out apologies before she was out into the fresh air of the darkening sky.
            James wouldn’t look at her, but even in the dying light she could tell he was crying. She squeezed his hand gently and pulled alongside him, resting her head on his shoulder.
            “What’s wrong?” she asked when they were far away from the tent and her perfect suburban house pulled into view. He led her up the stairs onto her porch in silence.
            “That was my dad,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know he…” his voice trailed off.
            “It’s all right,” Alison said. “How could you have known?”
            “He left my mom when I was young, so I never really knew him, but from what I remember from photographs…”
            They stood in silence a little longer, shock staying on James’ features much longer than sadness. Alison wasn’t sure how to leave politely, so she stood nervously on her porch, hoping her parents wouldn’t open the door and ask what was what. Finally he bowed politely and started down the steps.
            “I’m sorry,” he said. “How can I make it up to you?”
            “A movie would be nice,” she said.
            He smiled. “Good night, then. Pleasant dreams.” And with that, he walked down the steps and down the street, his hands shoved in his pockets as he walked towards the house he called home.

Damned Ants

            “I can pick up corpses with the best of them,” she said.
            “God, Helen. You’re such a braggart.”
            “Ladies will you settle down?” David said rolling his eyes as he dried a glass. “I think you both have had too much to drink.”
            Dave’s Bar was located in a prime location in the heart of the city about half a block away from the church. Occasionally the pastor would visit to preach about the morals of drinking, but David was a very good Christian who would go to church every Sunday and perform all of the expected duties. He even closed on Lent to help all of those in need, as he said it.
            “No really,” Helen said. “You haven’t lived until you’ve picked up ant corpses from under the pews. It’s one of those things that the pastor’s wife is a stickler about. If its summer and they’ve been having too many ants, she’ll have her husband tell all of those people who have confessed to sins to clean up the dead ants after she sprinkles baby powder like she’s baptizing the place. That’s why I never go to confession when the season’s changing.”
            Helen was a young girl who was chased out of the nunnery at the said church because she had been found pregnant one day. She was very pretty with silver-blond hair and aquamarine eyes. Quite possibly she was older than she looked and said she was. Although she had a quick tongue, she was the nicer of the two women.
            Sylvie had been going to the bar since before David worked there. She was graying a little in her auburn hair, but her hazel eyes sparkled with youth. “I don’t go to confessions at all,” she said downing another shot of rum. She didn’t talk much, mostly drank; in fact, she could easily drink a bottle a night.
            “Well why not?” David asked, putting away the glass. “You have a duty as a good person to cleanse your soul of your wrong-doings.”
            Sylvie laughed. “You do realize how many confessions I would have to do to make up all of this alcohol consumption,” she took another sip, “and the infidelity, heresy, pride.”
            “Come off it; you can’t be that bad,” Helen said.
            “I was seventeen when I had my first kid. The father took off like a rocket. At twenty-two I got married for the sake of the family. At twenty-four I caught him cheating on me with a little redheaded snot. He, however, refused to sign the divorce papers for the sake of my kid. At twenty-six I met someone else. At twenty-seven he took me to court with photographs of my boyfriend and me. I lost custody of my son. After praying devoutly for two years, at twenty-nine I gave up and became an atheist. At thirty, I moved into town and became the local alcoholic. Thus, my sins.”
            The counter was silent as David finished putting away the bottles and glasses. “I’d better wish you a good night.”
            “Well,” Helen said, giving him her glass. “It doesn’t seem to matter how many sins you have, there are always ants plaguing the church. But I admit, that’s a whole lot of ants to pick up.”
            Sylvie looked at her, flabbergasted.
            “Good night.”
            David watched her go and laughed. “As much as she hates the church, now, she still thinks like a nun.”
            “No,” Sylvie said putting on her coat, “she thinks like the pastor’s wife.”

Three Little Words

            It was winter. It was one of those winter days where you sit at home and watch the roses wilting on your newly polished dining room table with your back to the snow. I was hungry, but I dared not eat, my stomach could last just a little bit longer. I remember that my gaze had moved from the wilting roses on the dining room table to the ballet slippers on the piano when the phone rang. Like I was walking through jell-o I reached the phone and listened.
            “Look, Misaki, I’m sorry,” he said through the static of his cell phone.
            I had waited for that call. I knew the entire situation was my fault, but had been too proud to admit it. That Saturday was a difficult one. The university had called to cancel my foreign exchange and my parents were suing to get me back. The Thursday before I found out I was betrothed and that Friday I was sent plane tickets from my parents with a note saying that they would cancel my registration with the academy, bring me home, and marry me off. I was numb and so numb in fact, that I hadn’t watched my language in regards to the people I held close. I broke up with my American boyfriend without a word on the matter and had prepared myself for my descent back to the traditions I fought so hard to avoid.
            “Why?” I asked. It was the only word I could manage to get out. I knew I was using up his phone minutes and after he was out of those, he was out of luck. There was nothing to do in Michigan in winter with five feet of snow and if I used up his lifeline out of the house, I would have destroyed him for sure. I know it sounds superficial that he would rely so much on a cell phone, but he was stuck in the house as they couldn’t open the door for the snow and their phone lines were down because of the blizzard; this was his key to talking to someone other than his immediate family up there. He was already staying there for longer than he had originally expected.
            He didn’t wait for more on my end. “I just heard you were leaving. I’m sorry for whatever I did to get you angry.”
            “Jack,” I slammed my fist on the table to get my courage back. It was an odd habit, but for some reason, it cleared my head enough to continue. “It’s not your fault. It’s been a rough week. I find out my parents have pulled me out of school in order to be married to someone I’ve never met. I had to let you go free and I thought that if I took the first step, it would be easier for both of us.”
            There was silence and I felt the tension between us slowly tick away with the minutes.
            “Just tell me next time,” he said.
            “I’m sorry,” I said, obviously cutting him off. I loved him, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I had no choice but to let go and I didn’t want to prolong the pain.
            “If things get rough, don’t be afraid to talk to me. And if you come back, you’ll always have a place to stay. I understand you’ll be a married woman and it might be too hard to talk to your ex-boyfriend. You made quite an impression on my parents, Misaki. Don’t be afraid to ask for their help if you can’t stand talking to me.” There was a pause when neither one of us dared to speak. “I miss you already.”
            I bit my lip to choke back tears. “I’ve missed you since you left for Michigan,” I joked. “But this is going to be a lot harder. I’m afraid he’s going to abuse me like Dad abuses Mom.”
            Jack took in a sharp intake of breath and his phone crackled again slicing his next words. I didn’t care to have him repeat it, though at this point I would have done anything to continue our phone conversation. I knew I couldn’t call him again and I might not get away with contacting him for years. I choked back tears and listened to his voice ebb in and out of the static. If there was one thing I had to say before leaving, now was the time to do it. I prayed his phone would be clear enough just this once to get it out.
            “You know how to find me,” he said once the static cleared.
            I took a deep breath. “I love you,” I stammered. It was strange; in the two years of our relationship we had never said those three words to each other. I suppose we implied without words through flowers and smiles and various longing glance. Even though you can’t say everything, and in the art of conversation, there is much that isn’t said but understood anyway, there are some things that you have to say. And this was one of them.
            “I love you, too,” he said without missing a beat. My heart snapped and my tears rolled down my cheeks in great waves. I knew he meant it and I knew I was losing the one man who would love me forever. It was genuine, I felt it, and it tore me to shreds.
            “Bye,” he said. I could hear him crying on the other end.
            “Good bye.”

Inner City

Originally published on March 19, 2006

           The sky was a dull blue without stars or a moon. Streetlights flickered on as the bloody sun fell below the dark and weary skyscrapers reaching up towards the clouds for redemption. She pressed her gloved hands against the fogged up window as the taxi driver casually rode through the streets. A tall man with rustled black hair stood at the edge of an alley. He wore a long black coat with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette hanging nonchalantly out of the corner of his mouth. People huddled between doorways of closed shops and behind restaurants. These people needed help and they had been calling for it for years. She watched a pair of street performers with rosy cheeks; the girl looked no older than thirteen and her partner was maybe two or three years older. She was in a pair of baggy black pants and a white tank top with a hat that matched his tan suit combo perfectly. He looked like he came straight off the set of Guys and Dolls as an extra gangster whose clothes were a little big. They had a jar in front of their dance space that had a dollar bill with a couple coins on the bottom. She had the feeling that they were doing it for the sake of dancing as a couple now, since the money would never be enough to balance out their effort. As she went farther into the heart of the city, it started to snow small meager flakes whispering in and out and melting as soon as they landed. A small boy on a bicycle rode in and out of the moving crowd and stopped at the candy shop. He stood there staring in the window, one foot on the pedal, one leg straight and keeping balance as the traffic light turned green and she drove away. Finally, her destination arrived in sight: city hall. The building was strikingly neat compared to everything around it, further confirming her beliefs that the government did nothing but sit and sign papers. She got out and walked up the steps with a dignified air clutching her briefcase and purse close to her side. She opened the large doors and stepped inside. The lobby was a large open space with marble floors and a skylight far above on the ceiling. Lights around the skylight were turned on to make the illusion of daylight streaming in. A spiral staircase was in the center of the room leading to five floors that skirted the edge of the room. Her heels clicked against the floor as she passed several offices and walked up the stairs to the third floor. The door she arrived at had a plaque reading “Conference room” in curly letters. She took a deep breath and walked in.
           The conference room’s walls were white, but the seats had red velvet and the tables were cherry wood. She was the only one in the room. She glanced at her watched nervously to make sure she was on time. Confident that being there at 6:45 for a 7:00 meeting was acceptable enough, she sat down at a chair near the center of the room that was apart from the rest of the press area. She patiently sat for the fifteen minutes as people sprinkled in, going over her speech in her head. At 7:00, a short balding man stood on the podium before the council and cleared his throat.
           “This meeting was adjourned tonight to allow a very special woman to come to speak to us. She was requested by several anonymous members of the council to bring up the issues of the inner city. She has been studying public speaking in the prestigious Athenian Academy in South City, where she is currently seeking her PhD. At the Women’s Festival for five consecutive years, she has spoken on women’s issues at the beginning of the festival. I present to you, ladies and gentlemen, Sarah Carson.”
           Sarah shook the man’s hand heartily and set her notes down on the podium as the council applauded her politely. She glanced at her audience, calculating every expression, before she took a deep breath and started.
           “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council of Inner City Affairs, I do not believe I’m going to tell you something that none of you have heard before. But, I am going to tell you something that you refuse to listen to.
           “I decided to take a tour around Inner City three days before I was requested to speak. It was a Thursday night. Unrenowned to me, and probably to you, Thursday nights are drug days. While this is common in many cities, what still haunts me now, and even more so now that I am here, are the children. Alexander was his name and he told me he was eight. He walked up to a drug dealer and gave the woman a wad of cash and she gave him a packet of heroine, patted him on the head, and sent him on his way. The boy had no idea the crime of what he was doing and gladly told me who he buys, what he knew as candy, from. He also said he had been eating it for two years and steals money from Sandler’s Shoe Shop to pay for it. Children should not be allowed to buy heroine. Children should not be allowed to steal. And children should not be addicted at the age of eight.
           “If this isn’t enough, I’ll tell you about Megan. She’s sixteen and been in prostitution for five years. Tania tried getting a job but because people have told her she was too stupid to work, has been a prostitute for a while. Melanie never knew any other life but one of a prostitute. Upon interviewing other people on the street, the people who are considered rich are the prostitutes. There are no men, crudely known as pimps, because the women do their own businesses to receive maximum profit. People who live by City Hall have told me that the rich also include politicians, but the people on the edge of town, have no idea who you are.
           “I need not remind any people here of the common crimes that seem to be abundant here: robberies, murders, rape, arson. It has gotten so bad that I saw an eleven-year-old boy walk him and his six-year-old sister to the laundry mat with a pistol. I’m not even sure if he knew how to use it. For twenty dollars you can buy two-dozen grenades on the black market. All you have to do is walk three storefronts down to the grocery store.
           “These are extreme examples, but I assure you if you look outside and take a good look at this city, you will see the poverty, the hopelessness, the fear in every person’s face. And you here, have the power to change it. I sincerely thank every one in the council for listening and especially to the people who have enough sense in the future of their city to request me.”
           People started to clap but Sarah put her hand up and leaned forward into the microphone.
           “Before I leave I would like to mention a little girl. She was brutally murdered in a college dorm after she was raped by all of the roommates living there. The press was pushed out of the way, the police where never given and chance and the whole story was hushed up. That little girl was my sister, Martha. My father sold her to my cousins for money for health care for my mother, and that’s what my cousin did to her: killed her. That’s when we left home for Summerset. I’d like to say I have no personal feelings for Inner City, but I can’t lie. I’ve hated this place all my life and no one will be happier than myself to see a change.”
           Sarah nodded her head and stepped down swallowing tears. She looked out the window into the cloudy sky and saw a single star. She smiled. Her sister was congratulating her.

Leaving Home

            She put on her coat and stared at the silver sky thoughtfully before slipping on her black pumps and picking up the suitcase she left by the door. The lock clicked sadly open and she stepped a hosed foot out the door.
            “Mommy?” a little girl cried sleepily down the staircase towards the open door. “Don’t leave. Please.”
            She walked into the room again and shut the door against the cold. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be back soon.”
            The little girl shook her head and nuzzled her face into her teddy bear. “You and Daddy were yelling last night. He said he would kill you if he saw you with Uncle Tim again and you told him to stop drinking. I was scared, Mommy. You said you would leave,” the little girl started crying and looked up at her mother with scared red eyes.
            “Angel I wouldn’t leave you. I’m just going across the river to live with Uncle Tim. I’ll be back to see you at school. If you don’t like it here, you can always come to live with me over there. This isn’t for forever,” she hugged the girl and tried to suppress tears. “Mommy will be back for you, ok?”
            The little girl didn’t answer, but buried her face into her mother’s coat.
            “Mommy has to go now,” she said standing up. The little girl clung to her leg, but as soon as she opened the door, she pried the little girl’s arms away. “I’ll be back tonight, ok?”
            Walking away from the little protests, she silently closed the door. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the suitcase and started walking towards the bridge.

Fairy Wings and Pixie Dust

Originally published on December 28, 2005

I heard the title song from Faith Hill’s album Firefly. I fell in love with the lyrics and was very tempted to buy the CD just for this one song. Courtesy of Leo’s Lyrics Database, here are the lyrics to the song:

Before you met me, I was a fairy princess
I caught frogs and called them princes
And made myself a queen
And before you knew me
I’d traveled ’round the world
And I slept in castles and fell in love
Because I was taught to dream 

I found mayonnaise bottles and pokes holes on top
To capture Tinkerbell
And they were just fireflies to the untrained eye
But I could always tell

‘Cause I believe in fairy tales
And dreamer’s dreams
Like bedsheet sails
And I believe in Peter Pan and miracles
Anything I can to get by
And fireflies

Now before I grew up I saw you on a cloud
And I could bless myself in your name
And pat you on your wings
And before I grew up I heard you whisper so loud
Well life is hard and so is love
Child, believe in all these things

           Heather Rose was my favorite little girl. I would see her playing on the sidewalk in front of her house with her sidewalk chalk drawing pictures of flowers and small women with paper-like wings. I knew she cried when it rained and all her beautiful artwork would run together and blend into the sewers. I lived across the street at the time and I would watch her out of my front window. I watched her pick up frogs from the backyard and take them to the front for tea parties. I watched her try and give the rabbits carrots. But I watched her particularly when she would go out at night and catch fireflies. When her parents would call her in for sleep, she would open up the lid of the jar and let them out. She would then replace the jar by the side of the house and go in. When she was older she had a butterfly collection and she would sit on top of the roof in the morning at dawn and catch the dew-laden butterflies. She would ride her bike in the summer and spring to the forest preserve and pick flowers; in the fall she would gather fallen leaves.
           It was one spring that seemed clearer than our past springs. Not a drop of rain was in the forecast and the weather was warmer than usual. Heather was fourteen. Her mother came home late one day, driving much slower than she usually did, barely turning tight enough to miss their neighbor’s lawn. Later that night when the ambulance came roaring down the street, I knew something was wrong, something much worse than the weather. I decided this was as good a time as any, perhaps a better time, to introduce myself to the family so I put on my jeans and walked across the street.
           “Hi, I’m Megan DuCross. I’m your neighbor across the street,” I said.
           Heather’s dad seemed a little distracted and worried and he nodded abstractly at my while hugging Heather. Heather hid her face in her father’s sweater and faced away from me.
           “Look,” I said, “I’m a doctor. If there’s anything I could do for you or your family—“
           “Dr. DuCross,” one of the paramedics ran over to me gently grabbed my elbow. “We don’t know what happened to her, she seems to have collapsed.”
           “Any signs of physical distress?”
           The paramedic stared at me. “Megan, she collapsed.”
           “I…” I was frazzled and didn’t quite know what to say or do. I wanted to stay with the family but I wasn’t sure what I could do. I had only just introduced myself seconds before and this wasn’t the best time to make friends.
           The paramedic pulled me towards the ambulance. “Perhaps it’s best if you come with us.”
           “Besides,” she whispered, “you can deal with emergency staff and getting her in a room. If you want to help the family, this is how you do it.”
           I wasn’t sure the last bit of that was for me, but I didn’t resist her nudging. I climbed into he back, expertly if I do say so myself, and got on my knees beside her. Heather’s mother was a beautiful woman with clear pale skin and slight freckles dotting her high cheekbones. She looked perfectly fine to me; her golden brown hair was even neatly place around her head.
           “Well?” a second paramedic had sat down across from me. He already had rubber gloves on and he had his hands out in question.
           “I’m afraid I can’t do anything until we’re in the hospital. If it’s anything at all, I’ll need an x-ray.”
           “Are you sure?” the female paramedic asked. She was in the navigator seat and she turned back to face us.
           I closed my eyes and breathed out as slowly as I could. “I really hope this isn’t brain cancer,” I said and shut my eyes tighter. “Please God, don’t let this be cancer.”

Explanations of an Earth

           Before the Earth came into being, there was a nothing that filled the existence of every living thing. It was defined as darkness, but that was only a relative term, since no one had seen darkness before. The only thing in this darkness was thirteen glowing stones in a circle, by thirteen sleeping figures.
           The first of the thirteen woke up and took her glowing sphere out from under her head. Her stone was a garnet and shone with a proud red vibrancy. She looked at it quietly with a child-like curiosity and innocence before placing in down in the center of the circle. The garnet grew into a glowing sphere; slowly loosing it’s scarlet color as it grew in size and intensity. This she called “Sun” and named herself its keeper. One kept Sun’s rays controlled and modest, bright but not too hot, and set it spinning, more out of her playfulness than for an actual purpose. After a time, the second rose from the heat and shine of the One’s Sun. He smiled at her playful responsibility and curiosity as he picked up the stone at his feet. His stone was a deep amethyst and glowed on its own a dark purple, beside the backlit from the sun. Two smiled and threw the Amethyst into a path around Sun. It spun around and around, growing in size as it traveled. One smiled with joy at the stone circling her creation. In her distraction, Sun stopped spinning around itself; One didn’t notice and smiled at Two while watching the second creation go around the first. Soon the two got bored with it and woke up Three, who shook her head fondly at the toy they had made. She was caring and was willing to dismiss her stone to make them happy. Humoring One and Two, she picked up her aquamarine and spun it around the amethyst seven times until the blue- green stone covered it. Then she let the aquamarine calm into the stone, splashing around the surface of the amethyst. Three called this “Water” before going to sleep again, leaving One in Two’s care.
           The fourth woke up and calmly watched One and Two before gently picking up the amethyst and aventurine creation. He took his stone, a diamond, and wrapped it around the stone. Because the size of the amethyst aventurine was so large, the diamond covered it thinly. A white layer covered the entire stone, lying above the water and amethyst to create a bubble. One laughed with childish glee as Four replaced the stone on it’s way around the sun. Four called the new stone “Earth,” and watched it quietly. Five woke up after sleeping restlessly and saw Earth and Sun. She smiled at One’s joy and, having no powers herself, gave One her emerald to do as she would. Five watched One cover the rest of Two’s stone with the green. She called the covering “Plants.” Several times more the Earth went around the sun, then Five decided that Earth would do better with more color and she woke up wise Six. Six was not pleased with being woken up, but when presented with Five’s problem, Six focused on it. He decided, however, that Five’s true concern lay with how barren Earth seemed, rather than the lack of colors; he thought it was quite colorful enough. He spent the remainder of his time carving his stone into several different creatures, some with gills and some with fins. He placed them all in Three’s creation. One was even more pleased with the new creations moving about in the water and eating the plants; she squealed her joy and woke up Seven. Seven went unnoticed and she sat quietly in the corner turning her stone over and over in her hands, admiring yet jealous of One’s Sun. Her stone, a ruby, started getting hotter and harder to handle, but Seven didn’t notice. No one realized she was there until Eight woke up and asked her what she was doing. Seven, surprised, dropped her stone and burned Eight’s foot, causing a sickly sweet smell to fill the air. She picked it up again, secretly amused, calling it “Fire” and saved it for herself. Seeing the pain that Fire caused Eight, One shrugged at them and turned to watch the Earth go around the Sun. Eight noticed One’s interest in the creatures on Earth and proceeded to carve large and small animals out of his stone peridot and gave them to One to set on the Earth. One eagerly took them and gave some to Two and Four to help place. Nine woke up as Eight continued to carve and One, Two, and Four were placing the animals around the Earth. Nine had an idea and carved from her sapphire stone winged animals with beaks. She tapped Four on the shoulder when she was done and handed him her creations, which she called “Birds.”
           Five mused in the background, trying to figure out what she thought was wrong with Earth; She woke Ten and asked him. He crushed his stone and handed it to her telling her to scatter the pieces. She did so, and the pieces turned into colored plants, which she called “Flowers.” Eleven woke up as Ten went back to sleep, and created Tall plants from amber, which she called “Trees.” Twelve woke up and created “Moon,” from his moonstone, and sent it spinning around Earth.
           At last, Thirteen woke up and saw the Earth and it’s creatures; She saw both day and night and the harmony in which the plants and animals lived. She decided to live on the Earth and rule it with her brothers and sisters. Deep in her heart she felt something was missing. She decided not to use her stone of Zircon, but instead took pieces of adamantine coal and clay to fashion what she called “Humans.”
           “These,” she said, “will be the caretakers of the Earth and they will treat it as if they had created it.”
           But the humans didn’t care for the animals and thought only of themselves; they discovered what the Earth had to offer and wanted it for their own. Thirteen tried to show the humans the good things about Earth and why it was better if everyone shared. This worked and soon they found all the beautiful things on Earth.
           Seven was sitting playing with her creation; “Fire,” when she saw two humans sitting on a rock holding hands and watching the fish in the water. Seven snickered at them and decided to test these curious creatures. Not seeing Thirteen in sight, Seven threw a piece of her fire down on one of the humans. A sickly sweet smell, like the smell that came from Eight, rose into the air. Seven smiled and threw a little down for the other human.
           The people near by saw the fire kill their friends, but they also wondered whether it would keep them warm at night as well and allow easier hunting. And so, they learned how to create fire and use it. Seven was angry that the humans had learned about her toy, and tried to stop her secret from getting out. She threw down the rest of her stone of fire and let the winds scatter it across the grass creating a sea of fire. Thirteen noticed the fire chasing her humans and took the humans in the palm of her hand to heaven, where they stayed until the fire had died down at the water. Furious at Seven, the remaining twelve cast her down into a tree deep within a forest in the middle of the world, made it invisible so that no human could discover where it was and free her. Five, Six, Eight, Ten, and Eleven set to work again trying to repair the things that were destroyed; but none of it was the same for they didn’t have any more of their stones left and had very little resources in which to create the plants and animals again. When everything was somewhat the way it was, humans were placed on the earth again. The Twelve lay down to sleep and let the humans rule the world the way they wished.