Lucid Waking

Archive for the ‘Hero Cycle’ Category

Madren’s Choice (The Beginning)

(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.

The Raven and the Swan: Devin

        Devin walked into the bar as silent as a shadow and took a seat at a table next to a window farther along the wall by the door. The people here did not look intimidating and those who could cause trouble were occupied in the opposite corner in a drinking contest. A few people glanced at his presence, but went back to talking to their companions. Just like the gatekeeper had said, there were many mercenaries at the counter showing off their abilities to catch the eyes of commoners. He ordered a drink when asked, but kept his hood up risking whether he would appear conspicuous or not.
         “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in?” a woman with her blond hair pulled up in a bun sat down in the seat across from Devin. She smiled revealing pointy eye-teeth, which accentuated her pointed ears. One of her eyes was hazel with flecks of gold, the other so bright a blue it was almost white. “Or shall I say the devil himself?”
         “Good evening, Miss Stella.”
         “Quite some manners this evening,” she motioned for him to follow her to a table within a circular alcove in the corner. Once he had sat down, she pulled the curtain shut around the alcove and sat down again.
         “What do you need?”
         “I want to know about Munus.”
         “There’s quite a bit going on,” she said leaning back in her chair. “How about fifty gold? That’s enough for any questions you might have as well as full background on the town.”
         “That’s a ridiculous price.”
         “Well, knowledge isn’t cheap.”
         He put down a bag of gold on the table. “Only because I can trust you and only because no one else would know as much.”
         She smiled and blushed, emptying the bag on the table and counting it. Once she had reached fifty, she returned them to the bag and with a snap of her fingers made the bag disappear.
         “Let’s start at the beginning shall we? Munus started out as a small village in the middle of two mountain ranges: Helios and Lunos. A road runs through the path between them and the town blossoms around the main road. There are even a few houses and businesses on plateaus in mountains. Farms are practically non-existent, but you can find a few as you get closer to the city. They pay a lot for guards to take in their wares into town, by the way.
         “The government started with the town’s inn keeper as he was the one to see all of the visitors to the small town. In a way, this hasn’t changed. They decided on a monarchy and made an entire palace the town’s central inn. There are two others, but they’re mostly seedy taverns set up for…well.
         “Rumor has it that the current king was disrespectful to a pseudo-god and was given a curse: he would have two children complete opposites of each other. Neither would be set to rule or wish to continue the kingdom and thus the town would fail. The only way to break the curse was for one of the daughters to fall in love. Seems simple, but the pseudo-god designed it so that one child would be enamored of his or her reflection and the other would be ashamed of it. This didn’t mean one was ugly or not, just that the one who would never look at him or herself in a mirror would need to step outside and fall in love.
         “So we come to the current political situation: suitors for the two lovely daughters of King Nicolas. The vain one is Gwendolyn. She’s quite a lazy one and very…how shall I put it…loose. The bright one is Carey. There are very few people looking for her since she has a bit of a reputation of being a shrew. When you get there, you’ll find out who’s who.”
         The woman smiled. “I hear Carey’s quite a pretty girl. Are you thinking of courting her?” Her voice had become harsher all of a sudden, but her expression still remained light and her stance like she was in charge.
         “I’m not paying you to ask questions,” Devin said.
         The woman smiled. “Yes, then.”
         Devin decided not to answer. The truth of the matter was that he was hired to assist a government coup, but he was given complete confidentiality and if his informant wanted to lead herself on the wrong path, it was better that way. “What should I expect on the way there?”
         “The usual little creatures. Nothing you can’t handle.”
         “Is the curse foremost on everyone’s mind?”
         “Pretty much. The young men are involved in courting the princess; the king wants and end to his curse so he’s set up a reward for marrying the other daughter, only she’s turned it into a contest. Security is a bit lax right now, you’d want to be careful for pick pockets.”
         “Any one I should see if I’m there?”
         “We don’t have anyone stationed there,” she said. “Too risky right now and there’s really no reason. King Nicolas has everything public.”
        “Do you have a map with you?”
        “Do you want to spend more gold? You can just find a cheap one at a merchant stand.”
        “Do not try to fool me, Stella,” Devin said leaning forward. “Your guild has the most precise maps around.”
        “They take more time to make than you think.”
        “I’ll do without, then.”
        “Everything is very geometric. It shouldn’t be too hard to get around.”
        “Is the sewer system the same way?”
         “Goodness, why would you want to know that?”
        “Remember what I said about questions.”
        She sighed. “There is a complete underground road system under the regular streets in case of emergencies. The sewers are under that. No one gets underground without a key. No one has a key if they’re not royalty. Simple as that. And I’m not giving you the map.”
        He laughed. “We established that already.”
        She blushed. “Anything else?”
        “I think not.”
        She stood up and opened the curtain. She took a couple steps and stopped before turning around to face him again. She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and blushed again. She gave him a look that seemed tired but she smiled softly and handed him a fold of paper.
        “It wasn’t doing very good in my pocket anyway,” she whispered before turning quickly to walk away.
Devin opened it and examined the lines. The city map looked like large compass rose with the road moving straight through it. The castle sat just west of the road and consisted of many guesthouses apart from the main building.
        “Alia,” he whispered. The buildings faded to a series of passages and chambers in a perfect grid. The king’s treasury was under the castle and a few basements lead to other places. He repeated the word again and the map changed to an underground sewer system with various points marked off on the map. As far as he could tell, there were two paths, presumably one for clean water one for waste. He closed the map and tucked it into a belt pouch.
        He looked around again. People were still laughing and enjoying the conversation. The drinking contest in the corner ended with loud cheering as money changed hands to grumbling. He took a sip of ale. He would leave at dawn. He was already a couple days late.

Mia’s Journey

        The wind rustled the trees gently before dying down again. The leaves reflected the golden sun creating an iridescent green umbrella of the canopy and Moss covered the trees like a loving blanket in their long naps in the sun. The forest sighed again as the wind rustled the leaves and needles. The main clearing of the forest was a large turquoise lake pressing the trees away from the glowing center. The water was the sun’s mirror at high noon; presenting the vain celestial body it’s reflection for only an hour before the sun went off for better things to do. At midnight, the water reflected the moon for only an hour before the moon, too, got tired of its round reflection and went off for dawn.
         At the time that the sun was overhead looking at its reflection, a steamy smell would overcome the area surrounding the lake. The fish would take up their dance to avoid the hot water before diving down again to save their lives from air and the predators. Birds would swoop down in an equally tantalizing dance. The few fish that managed to leap out of talons stayed by the edge of the lake where the shade of the trees managed to keep the water cooler.
         Mia took the shaft of her spear and set out for the water. She knew that it was time as the sun just barely peaked its head over the edge of the lake. Her panther familiar, Abhay, lurked beside her, ever watchful of the petty fish and birds. Brushing her auburn hair out of her dark eyes, Mia crouched down under the low pine trees and waited.
         The flash of gold on the water reflected off the green scales of the fish flipping in the air. A large copper bird swooped and the spear went flying into the air catching the avian in the heart. There was a loud splash as the bird fell, disrupting the mirror of the lake. Caws broke the splashing, but the fish continued.
         “Come on,” Mia yelled to Abhay as she hit the ground running towards the lake. She dove in and under, keeping her eye on the bird and swimming as fast as she could just barely reaching her pike shaft and praying, pulled it upward. Abhay was busy with the fish on the edge of the water batting them up and snapping their spines in his jaws.
         Finally the sun left the morbid scene and sped away leaving the water a dark turquoise again. She gathered up the fish in her sack on her belt and tossed one to Abhay.
         “Good work,” she said and headed off with the bird and catch of fish.
         The village was an hour walk away and it was cool and buggy by the time they got there. The sun was mango orange just above the horizon line and the sky above was clear navy blue. Insects buzzed around her head as the last few birds sped through the camp, their mouths open for dinner. Mia walked inside the communal hunter’s tent and dropped off her load. The fire was lit in the middle of the tent partly to burn the skin and bones of the animals they had started cleaning and partly for light.
         “You got quite a good catch,” her mother said taking a fish from the sack and chopping off its head with a loud clunk.
         “Thank Orya.”
         Her mother smiled. “Mia, I need to bring up the marriage again…”
         “Mother, I said no.”
         “And this time, no isn’t an option. Your father was tired of waiting and they placed an even larger offer on the plate. I had no say in any of this, but you’re going to leave tomorrow morning.”
         “You realize what they do to Ochres. I’ll probably die by evening.”
         “The chief’s family seemed adamant against it. Give the boy a chance.”
         “He’s a boy. And their women weave. I would never fit in.”
         “I think you should go get ready for the morning.”
         Mia knew she had no choice and left the tent for her own. The village was starting the bonfire in the middle of the camp. The smoke was reaching with enticing fingers to dark blue sky and seducing the moon to shine on the clearing between the black trees. The birds were asleep and the only noise was the crackle of wood and fire. Mia sat down next to the flame, letting the wave of heat relax her muscles and warm her fingers. Abhay sat next to her, purring softly.
         “We’re being sent away,” Mia said to the black cat in the darkness. The eyes flickered in the firelight, but the rest of him was invisible with the landscape.
         “It’s not that they don’t want us, but we knew I couldn’t stay unmarried forever. I had just wanted it to be a local man.”
         Abhay put his chin on her knee.
         “I know Jack and I had hopes; he even made his familiar a panther like you, but he left a long time ago…”
         “You really shouldn’t talk to yourself,” a woman said behind Mia’s back. The woman sat down on the opposite side from Abhay and put her head on Mia’s shoulder. The firelight bathed the woman’s foreign face and light straw-colored hair in orange, but her cloak absorbed the light.
         “I’m just worried, Igala.”
         “I wouldn’t worry about it. Going somewhere away from home is frightening, but you should trust that it will be all right.”
         “Trust who?”
         “Anyone. You’re father. Your goddess. Me. Abhay. Yourself. It’s the only thing you can do to control the situation. Just let go.”
         “I’m sorry for seeming so—”
         “If you had left your home and family before, I would accept that apology. But this is what you know and this is what you’re comfortable with. I was scared to leave Scarlet and meet someone who grew up with women who fished and hunted their whole lives. I felt like I would never fit in having lived in a city, but everyone is different and my husband didn’t mind after a while. He didn’t have any expectations of me that I couldn’t meet. It ended up being fine. It wasn’t home, but I don’t feel a strong pull to leave.”
         Abhay got up and circled behind her back, leaning against her so that she could lie back onto him. Igala stood up and after telling Mia to see her if anything else bothered her, left to one of the tents on the left side of the circle. Mia sighed.
         “I’m not talking to myself.”
         She stared at the blue sky watching the twinkling spots emerge slowly and the moon rise to a golden yellow. The smell of cooking meat wafted out of the hunter’s tent tickling her nose. She rose, sighing, and went to her small family tent where the trunk was lying across from the opening. She picked out her usual hunting clothes and taking her favorite outfit, laid it aside. The dresses were at the bottom and though she would have preferred to just look at them, she put all of them with her hunting outfit. She sorted through papers and books, clothes and costumes until all of her most loved belongings were in a separate sack next to the trunk.
         She could hear the calls outside for dinner, but she ignored them and crawled into her sleeping back. The ground vibrated under her ear echoing the celebration outside, but she rolled over and closed her eyes, pressing her conscious into her silent pillow.
        The next morning she was woken by her father shaking her shoulder. He was a tall elderly man, who spoke very little and though he should have been upset, his face was stone and unreadable. He lead her to two horses outside, one already burdened with her pack. She mounted one and motioned for Abhay to follow them as they left the village she had known her whole life.

Sweet Home Chicago

    I was sitting on a park bench, reading a book, minding my own business, when up comes this little girl with a dollar in her hand and she says to me:
     “’Scuse, me, miss? You look poor. My mommy said that I should help poor people.”
     She shoves the dollar in my hand and then runs off. I don’t understand what about me makes people think I’m homeless, but she’s too young to know the word “bohemian” so I’ll give her some slack. So now I’m sitting on a park bench, holding a dollar, and minding my own business when someone else just shuffled up. Never seen the man before in my life. He’s wearing a trench coat and fedora, like Al Capone, and I wonder at what kind of town I’m in that he looks perfectly normal.
     He asks to sit down. I comply. He asks me about the dollar. I said lost of people have dollars what’s it to him. He said,
    “Did a little girl give you that?”
     I said: “The bank tellers look younger every day.”
     And he laughs.
     I was thinking something like the Devil in Damn Yankees, but he wasn’t nearly as sadistic. I mean, he just laughed, and it didn’t send shivers up my spine. He didn’t ask for my soul, he just wanted to know where I got the dollar. He reaches into his pocket and gives me another dollar and thanks me for the joke and leaves.
“Besides,” he says walking away. “You look poor.”
     Three more people who do that and I’ll have enough to get a cup of coffee. Ninety-eight more and I can get a blouse at Ann Taylor. Ah, well. I decided sitting on a park bench wasn’t good for my image, so I get up and start walking into the actually downtown area of the city. New York’s all right if you know what to look for. If you don’t have any money its just like Chicago, so I wasn’t missing much from the city I left. Except maybe Marshall Fields.
     But I wasn’t in New York because I’m an artist and that’s where artists go. I went because I was supposed to meet someone here who could give me a job. I put everything on the line. The modeling contract went to someone two sizes lower than me. I have no figure, I looked starved, I’m glad I’m not a model. But I’m stuck here until I can get money to go back. I liked Chicago anyway. It had better museums.
     So I’m thinking of just putting myself in a box and mailing myself there when the girl comes up to me again and tugs on my pants leg.
     “What?”
     “Where’s my brother?”
     “Who?”
     “My brother.”
     “Um, I don’t know. Ask the police.”
     “Nu-uh. The birds said you were with him.”
     “Yellow trench and fedora? That’s your brother?”
     “Uh-huh.”
     I shrugged.
     “Will you help me find him?”
     Eh. No money and all the time in the world. “Sure.”
     That was probably the best thing I had ever said. The looks I got: a skinny, rag-dressed, got-to-be-eighteen-year-old woman holding the hand of a prim, proper, rich-guy’s-daughter little girl. Well, it was fun while it lasted.
     She led me into the Macy’s building where my fashion originated. Basically, I took what Macy’s had and I patched it up. Anti-Macy’s; that’s me. So whatever. She leads me to the elevator and we go up to the twelfth floor and when the elevator dings, I’m pretty much in the manager’s office.
     His secretary does a double take.
     “Well, welcome Miss Lenoire.”
     I did a double take. How the hell did she know my name?
     “Welcome to the fashion offices of Les Beaux, Beau. We’re a private company,” she added to my look. “I see you’ve brought the manager’s sister back; thank you very much.”
     “Uh, yeah.”
     “I suppose you’ll start on Monday?”
     “Wait, what?!”
     “Very good. Eight o’clock sharp.”
     “I-I-I…”
     Takes a lot to make me speechless. I stormed into the manager’s office and yep, there was the strange gangster I had met in the park. He looked nicer now and his sister was playing a card game in the corner. Gosh kids look littler and littler every year. I asked him what the meaning of this was. He said he gave me a job; be grateful. I said I try not to get jobs from strangers in the park. And, I added, I was not homeless. He said he knew.
     “About what?”
     “Just about everything. Don’t worry about it, we’ll get you a ticket home once you’ve earned enough.”
     “Fine, but don’t think I’m not coming without pepper spray.”
     He laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you not to.”
     Feh, double negatives. Well, against my better judgment, I started work. The strangest family you’ll ever meet. They’re not human (he said fairies, or something like that), so I suppose that sort of made life easier for me. And like his promise, I’m on my way back home; sweet home Chicago!

Train of Thought (Part 3)

            The second train pulled up with a laugh of satisfaction. Fell into the trap didn’t you, it seemed to ask as Alex and Chris dutifully walked inside the open car. The car was clean and smelled slightly of lemons and lilacs. There was a table on one end of the car with a glass case of whiskey and a teapot with two cups. The two men exchanged a look at sat down on the leather bound seats.
            “I’m sorry; I didn’t expect the extra visitor,” Persephone said walking from the opposite end of the car to the table with the whiskey and tea. “Would you like anything to drink?”
            “No thank you,” Alex said. He was focusing all his energy on staying calm and making his hands not shake that he missed that she had poured him a drink anyway.
            “It might calm your nerves,” she said handing him a glass of whiskey and sitting next to Chris. “Besides you’re going to be here a while.”
            Alex set down his glass and leaned back in the seat. The train lurched forward and sped off. Through silence, the train pulled up out of the subway station and into a countryside in the middle of the afternoon. Alex continued to watch the countryside before asking: “Why did you need people to go into the second train?”
            Persephone took a sip. “Well, quite frankly, I was bored.”
            “What?” Chris jumped up and hit the glass out of Persephone’s hands, spilling the liquid everywhere. “You brought us to this hell hole just because you were bored? People were killed on that first train—my sister was killed. And you murdered these people because you were bored?”
            “The purpose of a game,” Persephone said in a tone that forced Chris to sit down, “is to have fun. You propose the game for entertainment; it’s not anybody’s fault it gets out of hand.”
            “But that’s when you stop it,” Alex said calmly.
            “Why stop it when you’re so close to winning? I realized later that it was a good thing the boy was so stubborn to leave. I used him to keep you there. Why do you think I let him leave that message in your apartment? I even told the boy where it was. I knew you would get through the first game—you’re a writer after all. It was a gamble when the kid figured out the second part, but for some reason you decided to stay.”
            “What about the other children?”
            “They weren’t real,” she said pouring out another glass of whiskey.
            The two men shared a glance before she turned around and went back to her seat. “So, a game of cards?”
            Chris started to decline, but Alex quieted him with a quick glance. “Of course. Gin Rummy?”
            Persephone pulled out a deck of cards and shuffled them nonchalantly. “I haven’t played Gin in a long time.” After dealing the cards, she snapped her fingers twice and put the deck in the center of the appearing table. As she reached for the first card, Alex stopped her.
            “Let’s up the stakes,” he said.
            She put the card down amusedly puzzled and rested her chin on her fist. “What did you have in mind?”
            “Let’s gamble.”
            “Gamble?” she said laughing, “What do you possibly have to gamble?”
            “Right now, we’ve got nothing but time. We’ll play seven hands and on each hand lies a day of the week. If I win, Chris and I get to leave the train on our designated day. If you win, we stay.”
            She gracefully grabbed all of their cards and reshuffled the deck. “Fine,” she said dealing the cards to just herself and Alex. “But I’m a horrible cheat.”
            “Its hard to cheat a game that requires mostly luck,” Chris said, disdainfully.
            “It all depends on the deck.”
            She flipped the first card over and rearranged the cards in her hand. “This one’s for Sunday.”
            They played the hand until Alex put down the last card. “Beginners luck,” she said, but shuffled the cards again.
            The second hand went the same way and so did the third. Persephone was getting more and more angry with every hand she lost. By Wednesday’s hand, she had switched to another deck and for Friday, she insisted that they use her tarot card deck without the major arcana and knights.
            He put down his last card on the deck and sat back in the seat, trying not to look too content. She threw down the cards on the table and got up towards the whiskey and tea. “One more hand and if I don’t win, I’m not honoring the bet.”
            Alex waved her back to her seat. “Gambling is always luck.”
            “You’re only laughing because you’re winning.”
            “No,” Alex said, “if I lost I would give you what you won.”
            “We’ll see about that.” She dealt the cards again and flipped over the first one: the page of swords. Alex picked up the card and discarded the nine of wands.
            “For every day that you have to leave,” she said farther into the game, “you have to have your mind erased so you don’t tell anyone about this place. I can’t have people just joining the train ride without proper testing first. Where would the fun be if I did?”
            “So then I’d have to go through the test every time?”
            “No,” she said placing her penultimate card on the discard deck. “Every Saturday, I’d restore your memory of what happened. It would serve as a reminder as well.”
            Alex picked up two more cards and put the six of swords down on the deck. She finished her hand with a flourish of the six of wands. “Saturdays you are mine.”
            “All right,” Alex said, “You won Saturdays. What day is it anyway?”
            Persephone laughed. “Tuesday.” At that word, the train pulled up to the original station with a screech. Have fun! it said teasingly as Alex and Chris got off and cackled off into the distance.
            The light was starting to trickle in from the stairs and the cool misty air of morning was barely penetrating the musty station. Chris ran towards the stairs and disappeared, but Alex followed more slowly, savoring the well-earned week in his hometown. The stores hadn’t even woken up and the sun was just barely visible above the buildings. Alex sighed and walked over to where Chris was starting to climb a tree..
            “Come on,” he motioned to Chris to follow him and they both walked back to Alex’s apartment. “You’d better get washed up and then we’re taking you to school.”
            “I don’t think it matters,” Chris said taking the towels Alex handed him and walking towards the bathroom, “I haven’t been in the longest time.”
            “We can at least bring you home. Where do your parents live?”
            “Brooklyn. But don’t worry about them.”
            “Why not? I’m sure your mother will be worried sick.”
            “Well seeing as I used to have a sister…how do I explain that?”
            Alex bit his lip. Damn, I forgot about that, he thought, but he said: “I’ll come up with something.”
            The more he thought about it, the worse the situation became. He had come to the fact that he had to return Chris home. His parents would probably be grateful for at least their son. But it’s difficult to explain how their daughter died and why their son has to go into the city every Saturday without coming across as a dangerous lunatic. Even if Chris matched his story, his parents wouldn’t believe them. He had to come up with a plausible lie, which was the biggest problem. Nothing that had happened could be even remotely explained by reality and Alex couldn’t even remember what had really occurred.
            The bathroom door opened and steam rolled out. “Maybe I should go alone,” Chris said placing the towels in the laundry basket by the door. “Then I could just say I got lost from my sister and after trying to look for her, just went home. I don’t really know why I was there and it seems like a plausible explanation.”
            “I’ll go with you,” Alex said, putting on a coat, “but if you prefer, I won’t go up to the house. I just don’t want to leave you on your own.”
            Chris nodded and walked towards the door. “I guess we should go now,” he said. Alex locked the door behind them and they both walked down the stairs and to the metro station. The train was perfectly on time and as always, Alex took the fourth car from the driver. The ride was a normal rickety stop-and-go trip through New York’s gray jungle of steel. The buildings faded off into normal small housing of New York City’s factory cousin: Brooklyn. Chris had fallen asleep by the time the train pulled up to the appropriate station and Alex gently woke him up before helping his sleepy companion down to a taxi. The car drove them past several parks to the address Chris had given him and pulled up in front of a medium sized white house. The roof and garden in front of it was well cared for, but there was a police car in the driveway and an officer talking to someone at the door.
            “Thanks,” Chris said getting out of the back, “you can come in if you want.”
            Alex smiled and got out of the back of the taxi. He paid the driver and went towards the door. When Alex got to the porch, a somewhat short woman with shoulder-length red hair was crying and holding Chris tightly.
            “Thank you very much,” the woman said as she hustled Chris into the house. Alex nodded and wished the woman a pleasant day. She returned the greeting, but turned to the police officer again.
            “My daughter is still missing,” she said. But that was the last thing Alex heard as he walked away towards the metro station.

            Alex checked his watch again before looking towards the steps. Finally he could hear a teenager’s clunky footsteps down the stairs. The boy didn’t say anything, but just sat down on the bench expectantly.
            “How was the funeral?”
            Chris shrugged. “Lots of crying.”
            Alex nodded. “There would be.”
            The train pulled up to the station with a normal squeal and opened up its doors with the usual rattle. Alex stepped in first and took a seat on one closest to a window. Chris followed him but went straight to the refreshment table.
            “Tea?” he asked, pouring himself a cup.
            “No, thanks,” Alex said laughing. The train started forward and soon went up into a perfectly lovely sunrise over farmland. Persephone brought out her cards, but she and Chris started playing without Alex. He continued watching the purple and pink watercolor sky slowly fade to a crystalline blue. The birds were waking up in the tall grass and trees beyond the cornfields. A few little robins dotted the cloudless sky, diving for insects among the crops. At least, they were pleasant Saturdays. Even if he couldn’t remember them.

Train of Thought (Part 2)

           Alex watched the last little boy gallop up the golden stairs with a rock in his heart. The train whistled impatiently and opened her doors to the last car. Throughout the ride, she had seemed more and more intolerant of small cliché slip-ups and he was getting more and more nervous the more cars he visited. She seemed to dislike that he had traveled so far into the game and now that he was almost done, irritably impatient. The last car was dusty except for one seat where a tall adolescent sat with a little girl on his lap. The girl’s breathing was labored and stuffy as she slept cuddled next to the boy’s body. The boy holding her looked no older than sixteen and he gently cradled her back and forth. Noticing Alex, he started to stand up, but Alex stopped him with a short raise of his hand and sat down in the seat adjacent.
           “It was December,” Alex started gazing at the girl, “when Frederik’s sister fell ill.” The lights started to flicker, but Alex ignored them. “Frederik lived alone with his sister in a small cottage next to the church. He was a stubborn boy and insisted that he have his own house. His parents had left them alone at least seven winters ago and Frederik was just getting used to living on their own. The pastor and his wife watched over them, but mostly, they were self-sufficient. So when she became ill, he didn’t know what to do for her and asked the pastor’s wife for help. She ended up taking away his sister into the church leaving Frederik utterly alone.”
           The second boy cocked his head at Alex with a tint of anger. “What sort of story is this?” he asked.
           Alex shook his head. “I’ve to keep going wherever it leads.”
           The boy set his jaw and brushed a bit of hair from the little girl’s face. From the look of her sweaty locks, she had a fever, but was still sleeping soundly. The train started to speed up in warning, but the lights remained constant.
           “In search for a friend, Frederik traveled the lands alone. A few people he met let him stay the night and gave him food, but their kindness seemed plastic and forced. He traveled on until he came to a ladder going up into the boughs of a tree. He couldn’t see any end to the ladder or where he would end up if he climbed it, but upward and onward he went. Eventually he reached the boughs of the tree and sitting among them was a little orange bird. The bird turned to him and started to sing. Frederik felt something tugging at his back, but he ignored it and pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the top rung of the ladder.”
           The train shook and the lights flickered, but Alex continued through the chaos. The little girl had woken up and the young man was rocking her gently back and forth. “The bird hit the final note of its song and in a soundless flap, fluttered upwards. Forced by something he didn’t know, Frederik soared above the clouds his newly formed orange wings beating steadily behind him. The bird led him to a mountaintop that was devoid of snow where an entire village of people with brightly colored wings lived. They came out to greet him from their huts on the peak.”
           The station started to pull into view and Alex’s stomach knotted up. “With the growth of new wings, Frederik forgot his sister and lived contentedly the rest of his days with his new-found friends.”
           The door to the train creaked open and Alex got out. The boy carrying the little girl followed him into the familiar station. The train sped off with an indignant huff and left the three of them in the exact subway station where Alex had started.
           “Didn’t you get my message?” the boy asked sitting down on the bench and cradling the little girl.
           “What are you talking about?”
           The boy sighed and visibly swallowed back tears. “There’s a catch. The girl you first met, Persephone, her sole purpose is to get people to go into the second train. So, she tells them to do a noble cause and go into the first, and the first train takes you in a circle for the second train to pick you up. The game is rigged: everyone wins no matter how creative they are or not. The rules only apply to the last car and if you don’t succeed, you have to stay there.” The boy paused and looked down at the little girl. “She’s cold,” he said and felt her sweaty neck for a pulse. “She’s been sick since we got onto that car.”
           Alex bit his lip. “What’s the next part of the game?”
           “You get into the second train and you’re never seen again.”
           Time seemed to stop as the boy dropped the girl and let her slip off his lap. The thud of her dead body hitting the ground reverberated around the walls and up the stairs, echoing Alex’s sealed fate. Alex sat down next to the boy as he started to cry and held him closer as if sympathy enough could suppress the pained sobs.
           “My sister and I,” the boy said pushing himself upright and rubbing away his tears, “were just walking downtown looking for a present for our mother when we realized that it was getting really late, so we went down to the nearest subway station. Persephone approached me down here and told me that the train was done for the day, but if I went into the first train, I could get home pretty fast. So I do what she says because, by now, my sister is scared stiff. And we met this little boy who explained the rules of the game. By the time we got to the last car, my sister had probably gotten herself sick from crying and the temperature changes. It was freezing in the car and warm outside, so whenever the door opened…” The boy paused and bit his lip to stop crying. “God, it’s almost as if they wanted her to die.” He took a deep breath. “In the last car, there was an elderly man being held at gunpoint by a deranged man. The gunman told me that he figured out the game and that the point of it is to die. The old man just sat there and stared and says in this mechanic voice—I’ll never forget it—he said that the point of the game is to go into the second train where you will just keep going until you hit your destination. And the gunman yelled at the old man asking where the destination is. My sister was hysterical and the train had started going down the track when all of a sudden, the old man grabs the gun from the second man and shoots him screaming that he’s scaring the child. Everything was silent and he dropped the gun and told me to start telling him a story. So I did and when the station pulled up, I stayed on the train. Persephone kept coming back to take me out of the train, but for some reason she couldn’t go into the car. Finally, she told the first train to get a move on. We got around to our beginning destination enough times that I stopped counting at fifty-five. My sister got worse and I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know if Persephone stopped getting storytellers for spite, or they never got farther than the second car, but regardless we stayed there. One day she let me out only because I complained about the dead man and she let me carry him to an alley and leave him there. That’s when I left that note in the alleyway for you, because I knew that you could get us out of here.”
           Alex frowned. “How did you know that?”
           The boy smiled. “Don’t you recognize me? I’m that boy who used to travel on your train every morning. Tony took a lot of pictures of me looking out that window. You know, the one you wrote Autumn about.”
           “I didn’t know you knew about that.”
           “I didn’t until I became part of the system,” the boy stood up. “Every time we came to the last station, the doors would open and Persephone would be waiting for me to come out. Often she would talk to me, but one of these times I noticed that there was an underlying voice to the one she was projecting into my head. And when I focused on that voice very well, I could hear what it was saying. I realized that I could hear her thoughts; the real thoughts that she has that she thinks no one can hear. But I can eavesdrop on those conversations she has with other people in their heads, too. I can sort of sense her when she’s near and what she’s thinking. She has no idea I can do that.”
           The second train started rumbling down the track like an impending storm. The boy stood up. “I’m Chris. And I think I can be use to you in part two of her game.”
           Alex sighed and faced the upcoming train. He picked up Chris’ dead sister and placed her neatly on the bench. “I have a feeling I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

Train of Thought (Part 1)

            Consider it, I don’t know, a warning. The note was left taped on the shower door with those seven words typed up in small letters on an otherwise blank white piece of paper. It was neatly centered in the middle of the page and just stared at him from its resting place as he prepared to take a shower. He ripped it off the tape and flipped it over several times, but couldn’t find out who was trying to warn him of something.
            Alex Duval shook his head and put the note on the kitchen table before shutting the door and going to work. The morning was foggy and wet, as usual mornings in New York were in the middle of spring. The metro station was only a few minutes walk from his apartment, but the words of the note started to worry him and he hitched a taxi down the station. Considering the small amount of cash he ever carried with him, it was easier to pay for the small fare to the station, he thought, than the long ride to the office. Besides, he added to help convince himself as the taxi pulled up, no one would kill in the middle of a train full of people.
            “Something got you down?” the driver asked, looking at the young man from the rear-view mirror.
            “Just take me to the nearest metro station,” he said, avoiding eye contact with the driver. He looked out the window at the people passing by and at the constant stops of traffic flow he would check that the two back doors were locked.
            “Well fine, keep that to yourself,” the driver said after a long moment of silence, “Besides, here’s the station.”
            Alex thanked the man and apologized for his silence, giving him an extra tip. When all exchanges were in order, he boarded the train. Alex always stepped into the fourth car from the driver ever since he had first used this route to his, then, new job. He considered moving into another car, but he had made a few friends and they all had traditions of going into that particular car. This is getting really silly, he told himself as he walked down the platform, no one is going to harm you. It’s just a stupid note. After spotting his friend’s face as soon as he stepped in, Alex breathed a sigh of relief.
            “You look like you’ve seen the dead; what happened?” his friend said, moving his duffel bag over a seat.
            “Whatever, Tony. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
            “I’m on your side, whatever happens,” Tony said and turned towards the window.
            The train lurched forward with a metallic slide and sped creakily down the track. Buildings flew by like streaks of gray on a big white canvas that was the sky. The sky eventually disappeared as the train flew further and further in the heart of the city. Even at this early in the morning, New York was throbbing with intensity especially as it started waking up and drinking coffee. The honking of cars was evident in the train car as it slowed down and reached its first destination.
            “You sure you’re ok? You haven’t even pulled out your notebook yet,” Tony said glancing at Alex, worry etching his delicate features. Tony was a tall lanky gentleman that looked nineteen no matter how many years went by. His hair was a short dark chocolate brown that would reflect sunlight even though there was none in New York. He was a photographer for the New York Times, so he was always with his camera, sometimes taking pictures of whatever Alex chose to write about during the commute.
            Alex shrugged and smiled. “I’ve written all I’ve seen about going into New York. After six months of this routine there’s nothing left to describe.”
            “Don’t give me that,” Tony smiled back and went back to looking out the dirty window. “You’ve written about people not just the scenery.”
            “Well, after six months, they haven’t changed much either.”

            It was the following Saturday when he thought about the letter again and it was the last Saturday he remembered. He was waiting for his boss at the lower Manhattan train station when a tall lanky woman came up to him. Her blue eyes scanned him from his brown eyes down to his black dress shoes and up again lingering where his hands were shoved into his pockets. He turned away from her and started farther down the station.
            Don’t go, she said, her voice echoing through his head. You’re that novelist. I’ve heard about you; you’ve saved those kids from that earthquake last year. You’ve got a silver heart.
            He turned around. “Most people would not agree.”
            Well, you only have a silver heart, not one of gold. Still, she walked over to him and ran her hand from his shoulder down his back, you seem like the type of person who’d be interested in helping out a good cause.
            He stepped away from her. “Sorry, I don’t hire prostitutes.”
            She laughed a dinner-bell sort of laugh that melted his previous inhibitions. Her mouth curled into a smile as she pulled up beside him, her hands now at her sides and she made no other move toward him.
            You think the train is done for the day, she said looking him in the eyes with a cold intensity, but it’s only just begun. You see, this train likes stories and secrets—it has such a vast collection. When it pulls up to the station, it will wait for you like always until the next train pushes it away. Tonight, you take the first one and, like always, I’ll be in the second. I can promise you, she finished as the rumble of a train grew in intensity, no one will hurt you.
            The train pulled up to the platform and smiled. Well hello sugar, it seemed to say and slid in neatly so he could take the first car. Alex stepped back warily and looked for the woman. She had disappeared with the first train’s arrival, which ironically had signaled the butterflies in his stomach to flap their wings frantically. Ain’t ‘cha gonna get in? the train said, pouting playfully. Alex looked up the stairs for his boss, but didn’t see anyone or hear anything besides the rhythmic breathing of the train.
            Consider it, I don’t know, a warning, he recalled. The rumble of a second train with more masculine intensity started crescendoing as he stood. Damn, the first train said under her breath and started pulling away.
            Alex was never one to go towards an adventure, and he knew this. But the overwhelming feeling of last chance opportunity was too much. Curiosity and guilt were the only things driving him as he ran towards the closing doors of the first train. In an excited squeal, the train picked up the pace and raced down the track, blurring the graffiti darkness to streaks.
            “Well hello there,” a little boy with small pointed ears ran up to where Alex had tumbled into the train. His little stubs of glittery wings flapped frantically as the boy helped Alex up. “Are you here to tell stories?”
            Alex sat down on the nearest seat. “I suppose so.”
            “All right then,” the boy sat down on the floor and flapped his wings expectantly.
            Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “How about this one: once upon a time—”
            “Oh, yeah! I forgot to mention. Every time you tell an original story, whoever is trapped on the train car, gets to leave. You can only tell one story in each car and as soon as the train stops, you’re finished forever. Sometimes there are lots of people on each car, but you only have to tell one story to free everybody. If you don’t satisfy the train, she keeps you here.”
            “Ah,” Alex said. “Well then…hmmm.”
            The boy bounced his knees up and down. “Please don’t take too long.”
            Alex sighed and looked at the little boy. “Once upon a time, there was a little boy named David. David had a curse where he had to answer whatever question someone asked him truthfully. David was part of a secret organization with a secret underground base beneath the castle. The only reason why he was part of this organization was because he was the king’s son. There was a big problem when spies would ask David where they could find this secret base or any information they had talked about because David would have to answer truthfully to their questions. This was very bad not only for the group but also for the king. So the king sent his son on a mission to end his curse.”
            During Alex’s story, the boy would occasionally look up at the lights and duck his head like something might fall from the ceiling of the car. When nothing would happen, the boy would smile and continue nodding and watching Alex. After a point, Alex would look up at the lights to make sure they were still their florescent bluish white. He wasn’t sure what the boy was afraid of in the ceiling, but the constant glances towards the lights were starting to increase his nervousness.
            “David had to first go to the house of an old witch who lived in a small hut in the middle of the forest.”
            The train lights flickered and turned pink. The ride became rickety and the train sped up. “Oh, no,” the boy said shifting so he was sitting on his knees. “She didn’t like that very much.”
            Not original enough, Alex thought. “But you see, this witch was a toad and her hut was in a tree. So it was exceptionally hard to find.” The lights flickered again, but this time turned back to white and the train was moving slower and smoother down the track. “Fortunately, the king had a map to where this witch lived for she was a citizen of the kingdom. When David reached the tree, he slipped money in the little hole at the bottom and waited. The toad came out and said ‘how may I help you?’ and David said ‘I need your help removing this curse.’ So, the witch pulled out her magic wand,” the train lights dimmed red, “and waved her slimy fingers,” the lights got more red and the boy started to whimper, “and then in an anti-climactic motion, she went back into her tree. No bright lights, no other words,” Alex added as the lights returned to normal. “So, David wasn’t sure whether or not she had really done his bidding. But he returned to the castle anyway, because he was a smart boy who knew never to question anything a witch does. The king seeing his son’s doubt asked David if he had stolen the money to pay the witch. Now both the king and David knew the answer, and both knew it was a test, so David said that he had (which was a lie). Both father and son rejoiced and David was allowed back into the secret society. The End.”
            The lights flickered and the train slowed to a stop in front of a dark gray station. The little boy cheered, but Alex paid no attention to that. He stood up quickly, the back of his neck tingling. The station lights flew on to reveal an empty platform and a set of glowing yellow stairs. Alex held onto the edge of the car door and peered out, but the little boy pushed him out in excitement. The car billowed with little children all jumping out and cheering. The first little boy Alex had told the story to had already bounded up the golden steps and the other little children followed his lead. A few of the more polite ones thanked him, before running up the stairs.
            The train let off a hiss of engine as the last little one waddled off to join with the others. All children, he thought awestruck. The train whistled again and moved forward. The door to the second car opened and, sighing, Alex got in.

The Prince: Time Has Passed

            King Aidan stood up and walked across the room to the windows. He looked outside at his kingdom between the trees. The merchants were busy selling their wares in the open market and beyond that, the farmers in the countryside were having a usual day at work. Birds flew by the window and perched on a nearby branch, chirping wildly at the topaz blue sky. It was a beautiful rain-free day, the first they had had in months and Aidan hadn’t believed until then that it could get any worse.
            “When was the last time anyone saw her?” he said turning to the messenger.
            “Last night,” the boy said bowing again. “She wasn’t present to perform tarot readings this morning and several of the people were worried.”
            “It was completely dark?”
            “Yes, sire.”
            Aidan sighed. “We’ll wait until morning. Perhaps she’s just gone on a small pilgrimage. I’m not one to bother a priestess of Goddess Fate. If she is not back by morning, send a small search party. But do not continue searching for her; if you haven’t found her after two weeks, she’s gone.”
            The boy nodded and exited the throne room. Aidan sighed and sat down again thinking. It had been years since Teagan had been raised from the dead and started making her livelihood with the fae. After she arrived, she made home with an old priestess of Lady Fate. Teagan learned the trade and became an avid follower of the Goddess. Beyond this and the occasional visits from Aidan, she tried to block out the world entirely. But much to her dismay, the coachman who had brought her there was not going to keep his mouth shut. Soon the entire fairy county was bubbling with news that the Prince’s cousin was staying right under their noses. Any problems they had that she was dead, no one made any objection, most likely because they had the imperial army breathing down their necks waiting for something to go wrong.
            Teagan had decided to live in the palace after all and watch over things in the kingdom when Aidan wasn’t there. Although she was the advisor, she would often visit the woods where she had previously lived. She remained out of the official nunnery of Goddess Fate, but every week, she would do a morning tarot reading for the few close friends and family of the King.
            Today, she was found completely gone from her chambers in the castle and those who had dared check the cottage, reported she wasn’t there either. Aidan stood up and walked over to the small servants door next to the throne.
            “Talia, what am I going to do?” he asked. A tall redheaded woman handed the spoon she was stirring with to another servant and walked over to him. She hadn’t seemed to age a day and she still looked like a child when she sighed and tilted her head to look at him.
            “She finally left did she?” Talia said disregarding his start of an explanation.
            “So its not another one of those visits she takes to visit Fate from time to time.”
            “I don’t think so.”
            Talia went back to the kitchen and grabbed a knife to start peeling carrots. Aidan followed her, ignoring the servants rushing away from him and trying not to stare. “She said she would,” Talia said engrossed in her peeling, “‘Peace has come,’ she told me last night. What a bunch of rubbish. She also said that Fate called her back to her soul. You might not want to start a search party.”
            “It seems a little late for that. Might as well give them something to do, though, the troops are getting bored. Word will get out anyway that she’s gone, so I might as well just let them find that out on their own.”
            “Maybe she’ll be back,” Talia said. She was uncomfortable at his despair and even though she didn’t believe what she was saying, she didn’t want to be the bringer of bad news for the rest of the kingdom.
            Aidan laughed. “If she told you she was leaving, then she’s gone. If I know Teagan, she isn’t coming back.”

            Teagan brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked down at the tombstone. Ironically, the words still stayed the same and she wondered if he was going to be buried there when he died again. Why would they have changed, she thought pressing the seal of the king and waiting for the elevator to rise, who wants to visit the grave of a live man, even if you are just changing the stone. She walked into the elevator like an actress in a well-rehearsed play and got off the elevator like she was going home to a place she knew quite well. Expertly, she walked down the passages towards the large meeting hall and entered.
            “You shouldn’t be allowed in here,” an older God said standing up quickly.
            “Where’s Lady Fate?”
            “This is only for the Gods and Goddesses. Get out!”
            “I am a Goddess. Any one who is dead, but lives is most certainly not a Child. Tell me where Lady Fate is.”
            The God made motion to speak, but was cut off by a golden voice. “Ah, my disciple is here again. I’m proud that you’ve answered my calls. Tonight you’re going to sleep; I’m done with you.”
            Teagan nodded. “I thought it was that.”
            “You’re taking this lightly,” Fate said pulling alongside Teagan and leading her down the corridor to the familiar room with the green light.
            Teagan shrugged. “My life was empty. I had no purpose for myself and I had no future that I could control. I came here to help a cousin I didn’t even know; I sacrificed myself for a stranger. Yet, I came back a lesser human in order to fulfill the tasks the Gods and Goddesses had in mind for me. A marionette has nothing to look forward to but the smiles on people’s faces at its performance. I had nothing to hold onto except the reassurance that I was really helping people and even then, I was not so sure. It’s time to end this and to bring things back to the way they should be.”
            Fate stopped her and opened a glass door set in the stone. Sleeping soundly was a glowing purple woman exactly like Teagan now. Her hair was longer and lay like a halo around her head. Her chest moved up and down lightly in the satin bed.
            “Please,” Teagan moved forward just as Fate was about to wake up her soul. “Could you at least give me my own grave?”
            Fate smiled and reached over to wake up Teagan’s soul. Teagan turned and watched her body fall to the floor. Fate pulled Teagan from her bed and led her out of the glass case, closing the door at her exit.

            Aidan went down to Teagan’s room as the sun went down to look for a clue of her leaving. Everything was as she left it: the bed was made and all her clothes were in the chest at the foot of the bed. Her tarot cards were in the top drawer of the armoire and some of her better dresses were hung up. He sighed and turned towards the door. A rustling sound behind him caused him to turn around and spot a dove in the window. It cocked its head before flying off to wherever it wanted to go. It was getting dark, but in his peripheral vision, the bed was no longer empty. He lit a candle and moved it over to illuminate the intruder, but only saw Teagan sleeping in her own bed. He held her hand and tried to wake her, but she didn’t move. Ah well, he thought sadly, she really has gone and left us.

            Three years afterwards, Duchess Talia went to the graveyard near the Devlin mansion with her husband. They said nothing to each other even when they split up, but while Talia chose the roundabout way around the cemetery, Aidan walked straight towards the grave. When she caught up, Talia put her hand on his shoulder, but remained silent. They both stared at the small gray gravestone in silence: “Here sleeps the body of Teagan Devlin, daughter of Count Liam and Countess Aingeal. May her body rest in peace forevermore.”

The Prince: Back Again

            The fire had gone out and Teagan’s body fell from its sitting position to a slump on the floor. Sir Drummond smudged the chalk lines and started to pick the stubs of candles off of the stands. Aidan stood in the corner looking out the window.
            “Don’t bother looking for her. She can’t follow you and she’s not coming back,” Sir Drummond said, annoyed. “Stop being such a child.”
            “I am a child,” Aidan said just as annoyed. He walked over to the candle stand on the opposite side of the circle and kicked it over. It fell with a loud crash and the candle popped of the stand and rolled across the room. “Everything I’ve learned was from Death, herself.”
            “Do not disrespect the Forces. They know more than you ever will.”
            “Quite,” Aidan said and walked out of the conservatory.

            “Child don’t cry,” a woman clad in white came out of the shadows and put her arm around Teagan. “Goddess Fate has seen your future and she insists that you see her right away.”
            Teagan wiped her tears away with her hand and stood up. The light had moved from behind her to in front and illuminated a long straight tunnel leading to a door.
            “I am Death,” the woman said before Teagan had a chance to inquire. “I was sent here on an errand to bring you back. My sister, Fate, has much in store for you, but she would not tell us what it was she wanted. She only promised that while you have to stay here, there was a way for you to go back.”
            Teagan grabbed the woman’s outstretched hand and followed her glowing white figure out of the darkness in into a cavernous room. The walls were lined with tapestries of kings and famous battles. The table in the center of the room was carved from ivory and had the thousands of names of heroes from every race carved into the legs and edge. Cloaked figures of various colors were seated at the table, some with their hoods down to reveal beautiful faces, some remaining anonymous with their hoods covering their features.
            At the head of the table in a large gold throne sat a golden skinned woman, who Teagan presumed to be Goddess Fate. She had her gold hair pulled back by flowers and she sat with her hood down at her neck. She looked at Teagan with pupil-less gold eyes and nodded for Teagan to take the seat across from her at the table. Death pulled the chair out for Teagan before walking to her own place beside two brightly colored figures with their hoods up.
            “Now that our final guest is here, I will do the honor of revealing what plans we have in store. It’s imperative for the future that Teagan is still alive. With careful consideration of our rules, I have come to the conclusion that we need to reanimate her body.”
            The crowd stayed silent, but a red hooded figure stood up and looked at Goddess Fate. “Should we tamper with the mortals again? They must be going through a lot to fathom the possibilities of trading the dead and then reanimating the bodies. Imagine how history will be different when the Children realize that all their heroes and lovers who have died can be brought back just by killing their brother or enemy. This power cannot be revealed. And if we animate her body? The Children will get the impression that as long as they keep the body, their loved ones can come back to them and live with them forever more.”
            “Your concern is one we must consider, but these actions should not lead to undesirable ends like you fear. We will animate her ourselves without the mortals knowing. Then she will complete the tasks set before her like Prince Aidan will complete his fate. And then both of them will die like their fates were written. We have no time,” Goddess Fate said waving her hand to cut off another protest, “we have to do this now, or it will be too late. Forgive me, my brothers and sisters, but we cannot debate this.” At once, she was next to Teagan and lifting her up from her chair. “All you have to do is sleep,” she said while leading Teagan out of the room and down the hall to a green-lit chamber. “We will do the rest.”
            Teagan shook her head to rid herself of the splitting headache. Her eyes were blurring everything and the only things she could make out on her surroundings were the large rosy windows. The floor was clean, but slippery and the light in the room was increasing. She propped herself up on one elbow and groaned from the pain in her head. The room was starting to focus, but she couldn’t look at the light for the pain. But as the room got brighter, her head started to clear. Finally, she sat up and examined her “animated” body. Her skin was a slight silver hue that shimmered in the light. The Forces had also changed her clothes: her dreadful dress was replaced by a page’s outfit with pants and her shoes were missing. Her hair had also been extended to long tresses reaching her shoulder blades. She stood up and leaned over the plants to look at the glass as a mirror. The only features that had visibly changed were her eyes. They were still hazel, but the gold flecks had disappeared. It was hard to tell in the crude mirror, but she guessed that her eyes were cloudier than they had been when she was fully alive. She sighed and started towards the door.
            The hall way was silent again, but the ocean of silence had dissipated and she heard the hall clock was ticking with familiar rhythm. She could hear Sinead in the kitchen making breakfast, but there was no other sound in the house of anyone stirring. The library door was open and Teagan glanced in. Aidan was sitting with his back to her reading a book. He remained engrossed in the text even when she walked in and sat down across from him at the table. After some time, he closed the book and looked at her annoyed for interrupting. His expression melted into pure surprise and he leapt up from his chair and ran over to her.
            “Teagan? What in the hells happened? I thought you were dead. What did They do to you?”
            Teagan put her finger to her lips to silence him and stood up. “Goddess Fate said it was not my time to die, so they reanimated my body.”
            “I’m glad you’re back,” he said smiling, “even though you really aren’t,” he added sadly. He walked back to his seat at the table and opened the book. “It’s amazing the books you have here,” he said cheerfully. “I could read these stories for hours.”
            “Aidan,” Teagan said closing the library door. He looked up at her expectantly, realizing how serious she was that she had said his name for the first time. “We have to talk about this. Lady Fate said that I had a purpose to fulfill alive. She gave me the impression that I was supposed to help you, but I don’t know how. Besides, everyone believes that I’m dead, so if someone found me like this and talking…”
            Aidan put his book down again and turned to face her. “What’s on your mind?”
            “I think maybe it would be best if I just stay out of the picture. I’ll help you rule in whatever ways I can, but perhaps it would be best if no one else knows of my existence.”
            Aidan nodded. “An admirable plan, but don’t you think your parents should know?”
            Teagan shook her head. “I’m only here to continue my fate, nothing more.”
            “Then you’d better get ready for a journey. The rest of the household has either left or gone to sleep just a few hours ago. They won’t wake up as long as you’re careful. Then go to the coach house, I’ll have a carriage ready for you.”
            Teagan ran off to pack her things, grabbing only enough clothes to last her a week. She realized he had not known she was a servant, because the travel through the maids was proving difficult. The girls were almost awake and those that were still asleep were sleeping lightly. She tiptoed through the line of maids and just managed to get to the door when someone grabbed her by the shoulder.
            “Teagan? What’s wrong? You look sick,” Talia said fearfully. She held her friend by the shoulders and looked her up and down. “Where are you going?”
            “I’m not supposed to be here,” Teagan said giving Talia a hug, “I’ve got to leave.”
            “What happened?” Talia asked starting to cry.
            “You’ll find out later today.”
            “Don’t go,” Talia said feebly pulling Teagan’s arm towards her.
            “Talk to Prince Aidan,” she said finally and pulling herself away went up the stairs. Talia didn’t follow, but went back to bed repeating her friend’s words over in her head to try and make sense to them.
            Teagan managed to sneak a bit of food from the kitchen by sneaking into the pantry when Sinead wasn’t looking. Just as simply, she snuck out the servants’ door in the kitchen and ran to the coach house. The morning was frosty and glittering in the slowly rising sun. The frost was starting to melt and her footprints left wet puddles of grass where she stepped in her bare feet. Breathless, she peered into the coach house.
            “Good morning, ladyship,” a short fae man came out from behind the large brown horses and bowed. He was wearing all green except for a conspicuous red hat, which he took off in her presence. “The lad said you’d be going to Wintershire Cove. Is this correct?”
            She nodded. “Would you like any pay for this inconvenience?”
            “Already got it,” the man said holding up a gold coin. “Besides, the Prince commanded it. He mentioned you were the one to get him out. I don’t need any other money besides for the tolls.”
            She nodded as he continued talking about the bloody roads and blasted laws the fairy folk had set up. She looked back at manor and sighed. She was leaving home for good, now. She glanced through the library window as they passed and caught a glimpse through the sun reflecting off the glass of Aidan waving to her out the window. She waved back and faced forward again. I hope this is what Lady Fate means when I have to complete the tasks set before me, she thought. Because if this isn’t, it’s a pretty horrible beginning to these turn of events.

The Prince: The Pentacle

I have to explain something at this point in the story. Souls age. Souls age in the body and souls age on their own after they are separated from the body. If a child dies, their soul continues to get older until they reach a certain point. Then their soul continues to age, but it gets "younger" until it is a child again. These "baby" souls are then given a body and are born again. For example, if a parent had the ability to talk to his or her ten year old child who died four years ago, he or she would see his or her son or daughter at age fourteen. So it doesn’t matter when they died, they would still be the equivalent age that they would be if they were alive.

            Lady Devlin smiled, but her face kept its melancholy seriousness. “The ceremony has to be preformed by one of kin to the deceased to be taken in place of the body restored.” She patted Teagan’s knee and stared out at the crowd, tears starting to fill her eyes. “Devils are very possessive of their soul collection.”
            “Well, if that’s my part, how am I related to this prince? I was the daughter of a miller who wanted his daughter to have a better life than he did. That’s what Lady Watson told me, anyway. I suppose that’s not it at all, anymore.”
            “This house has so many secrets, I’m surprised it hasn’t cracked much earlier than this. But no one knows how much longer it could last,” she stood up and carefully brushed the tears off her cheeks. “May I show you something Teagan?”
            Teagan agreed heartily and followed Lady Devlin out of the parlor. Lady Devlin closed the door behind them quietly and then hurried into the library. She pulled out a key from a ring of keys around her neck, and unlocked the door, returning it to its shut position before walking over to a particular shelf near the ground.
            “Teagan Miller,” she said thoughtfully as she pulled a large book from the shelf and put it onto the spotless table. The tome was stuffed carelessly with various papers of ownership and borrowing. She opened up the book and flipped through a few pages until she found a certificate of birth. She handed this to Teagan. “Teagan Miller is in fact Teagan Devlin. Given up by her parents to become a maid in their very house so that she could be kept safe from prying eyes,” Lady Devlin walked over to Teagan and put her arm around Teagan’s shoulder. “Teagan, people were furious at the king and his descendants and we were afraid that if things got difficult someone would come to kill you as the niece of the king. We didn’t just want to give you up to a peasant family since we didn’t know whom to trust; anyone might be turned by some money. Besides, we couldn’t be sure that the family we would give you to had completely sincere claims. We thought it best to keep a strict eye on you, so your father and I let Lady Watson take care of you until you were old enough to do chores around the house. I’m sorry to tell you this way, but I had no idea this entire affair was going to unravel around us.”
            The door opened slightly and Lord Devlin came in, quietly. “You told her, didn’t you?” he said closing the door behind him and locking it. “I’m sorry, Teagan.”
            Teagan looked from Lady Devlin to Lord Devlin, but neither one would return her gaze. Her childhood fantasies of a father who cared conflicted with the facts she knew, but she stood up and took a deep breath. Despite an intense feeling of despair, she felt no need to cry. She sighed. “I must do what my duty demands of me,” she said diplomatically. “Let’s go to the conservatory and see what’s going on.”
            Lord and Lady Devlin exchanged looks, but made no sign of protest. Teagan unlocked the door and started making her way down the eerily silent hall. She felt as if she was walking through water that slowly turned to ice. When she lost feeling in her fingers and toes, she turned towards her parents, but couldn’t see anything beyond the slowly dissipating image of the hall. Her heels didn’t even click on the polished surface as she continued to walk through the pool of silence. She arrived at the conservatory with surprisingly no fear and opened the door.
            Sir Drummond had set up a large purple pentacle in the center of stone floor. The five points of the star had candles burning steadily with a purple flame. At her entrance they flashed and slowly spread along the circle of the pentacle like someone had spilled the flame on gunpowder. She looked around the room, but found her self utterly alone. She stepped over the low flame of the circle, careful to not smudge the chalk and sat down in the middle of the five-pointed star. All at once a ripping sensation over came her, and she made motion to scream. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, but she didn’t feel any pain. Only when she opened her eyes did she realize she closed them and almost instinctively she looked up at the moon. She became enticed by the ethereal ocean of light. Reaching a hand out to touch the liquid beams she realized that her soul was now outside the graveyard and her body was, presumably, still in the pentacle. Her skin was a transparent purple like the chalk and she could see through her hand to the corporeal world beyond. Taking a deep breath, Teagan walked into the cemetery.
            Gravestones with cold angels loomed over her sobbing in the pale moonlight. Their tears were held fast to their cheeks where the artists had tried to capture the essence of rolling and their faces were warped into what one might have thought of as sadness, but came to her as anger and fear. Out of nowhere, she tripped over an invisible thread and landed on a large tombstone on the ground. Her joints were jarred from her fall, but otherwise she was, unsurprisingly, not hurt. Neatly wiping imaginary dust off her skirt to regain composure, she glanced at the stone. “Here sleeps the body of Prince Aidan Breckenridge, son of Duke Eric of the western empire and Queen Nostariel of the woodland fae. May his soul be held with peace he never found in this world.” At the bottom of the stone was the royal seal of both the woodland fae and the king. Teagan was compelled to press the seal of her king and all at once the tombstone rose up lifting a crude elevator with it. With a loud click of mechanics, it stopped at the ground and swung open its door for her. Her first instinct was to be afraid of the rickety vehicle, but that was soon replaced by the rationality that her soul couldn’t die, nor be harmed. With a final look over her shoulder, she stepped into the elevator. The door closed behind her and the elevator started its descent.
            The elevator stopped at the bottom on a mat of moss with the same click of mechanisms that it had previously sounded when it arrived to retrieve her. The door swung open to let her out before disappearing into the darkness. Strange, she thought, though she couldn’t fathom why. A disappearing elevator seemed to be the least strange thing of the evening. She herself emitted a bit of purple light, but not enough to see by as she groped forward in the dark. Still, she kept walking forward into a steadily increasing green light.
            “Lady Teagan?” a man’s voice sounded from behind the light source. He sounded tired and young, but a little wary of the ethereal intruder to his resting place.
            “Yes,” she answered, blocking her eyes from the now white light.
            “Oh, thank Gods,” the voice answered. All at once the light dimmed and she could see a glowing blue figure like herself. The man who came forward looked much like Lady Breckenridge with small pointed ears and defined bone structure, but mostly like his father with very muscular features. She shifted weight nervously as this stranger, who she presumed to be her cousin, came forward and embraced her. “They said you would come,” he said holding her at arms length and looking into her eyes as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Ah, forgive me,” he said glancing at her expression and letting his arm drop to his sides, “you never knew who I was.”
            “Well, neither did you. Unless I am mistaken, we’ve never met.”
            “Never in person. Not any time you would remember,” he stepped away from her and looked at the green light. “The Forces argued a lot about my death. They kept saying that it was never supposed to happen and that I was supposed to stay alive. Lots of them argued with each other. When they agreed to bring visions to the local priest and tell my parents to bring me back, they started talking a lot about you. They would let me go up to the corporeal world as a spirit and see the things I was missing. So that when I come back, I would…” his voice trailed off and his tears started again. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered and slumped down to a crouch. She stood above him looking into the dim green light listening to his sobs.
            Teagan felt sorrow, not for her fate, for his. She felt his despair as he fathomed the possibilities of coming back to life at the cost of a family stranger and how when he came back, war would break out again. She felt his anger at everything he knows will happen at his return and after everything he’s heard from the Forces, that they would allow the worst to happen. She felt pain as she realized he was becoming one of the Forces, one of the Gods, to fulfill a fate that he might not believe in. She realized that the only thing he could control were his own tears. She fought back her own tears and lent her cousin her hand.
            “Please stand up,” she said, “if I’m going to stay here for you to fulfill your fate, then you must go back. I refuse to die for you if you won’t change things for the better.”
            He grabbed her hand and propelled himself so he was standing up. He gave her a small smile and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I won’t let you be forgotten,” he said and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back for you, Teagan.”
            Teagan nodded and watched him go back into the darkness. She sat down on the ground and finally, cried.