Drip.Drip.Drip. Kelsey woke up to the dripping. It seemed like forever until Kelsey had the energy to get up. She looked around to see a mild glow coming from the end of the humid tunnel. It was pitch black with tiles covering the walls. The ceiling was in an arch position, everything had a dark blue glow to it. Kelsey looked to the side to see a figure a couple of feet away. Kelsey slowly got up to look at the figure on the damp floor, she looked familiar.

“Giuliana, is that you?” Kelsey whispered at the figure.

The girls’ eyes fluttered open to see Kelsey shaking her shoulders on the floor. She squinted and slowly got up looking with the turn of her head. Then it all came back to Kelsey, that was her sister, it just had to be. Giuliana had a cut on her forehead. Kelsey saw two backpacks at the side of where she sat, that could help her sister. Kelsey slowly walked over there snatching the pack and looking at the contents inside.

“Hmm, there’s a flashlight, batteries, rations, water, and two jackets. That could be useful,” Kelsey thought.

But that still didn’t help with the cut. Kelsey looked at the other backpack.

“There’s a blanket, water, flashlight, batteries, and a first aid kit. Yes! That’s what I need!” Kelsey grinned.

Giuliana was still knocked out after waking up for a minute. Kelsey shook her awake and Giuliana sat up once more.

“Kelsey is that you? What’s that over-”

“Sit still Giuliana I need to put this bandage over your head, that’s it. Look your cut is covered!” Kelsey put out.

“Where are we, what happened?” Giuliana asked.

“ I don’t know and I woke up and there’s a light around that corner, lets go check it out, it might be a ticket out of here.” Kelsey replied.

“ But if something is out there.” Giuliana squeaked. We will fight them, or run.” Kelsey concluded.

“Ok, but you go first, I am not risking anything.” Giuliana whispered.

“Ok lets go“ Kelsey urged.

Kelsey and Giuliana saw a stick and pipe and grabbed on to their weapons.

“Lets go” Kelsey smirked, she was ready for whatever.

This tunnel led outside to little dock. But with a huge ship, big waving sails with skulls on it floated there near the dock.

Kelsey and Giuliana walked aboard a ship, they snuck on but they saw there chance to leave. They turned around to see a crew of men hold their swords. Screaming they pushed the scary men off the ship. They looked as they saw more men on the shore running, they put the sails up and off they went.

Splash! Kelsey went outside, the ships anchor put under the big blue sea. But something else was in the sea, splashing and screaming for dear life.Kelsey went straight into action throwing a rope and a nearby life coat attached to it.

The person was a girl, she seemed to be a bit older but Kelsey was able to put a blanket on her.

“Who..who are you?” the girl whimpered.

“Kelsey pleasure to meet you. But not like this’

“I’m Sacha but I was in my bed then I blacked out and… and fell and I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s go in, it’s warmer that way.” Kelsey smiled.

Giuliana walked in, confused. Kelsey tried to explain what happened, it was hard to believe but Giuliana still shaken nodded. Everyone was able to become best friends in days, those days eventually turned to months.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH, KELSEY! GIULIANA!”

The two girls screamed to find two more girls on the floor. They were both blond, one girl with the lightest hair, the other short and sandy brown. Sacha, who has brown hair and brown eyes widened was speechless.

“They just fell on the deck, no scratches no nothing” Sacha explained.

We are all here for a reason, but what?” Kelsey questioned.

Not all of them were there. Splash! One girl left, bobbing in the water. Kelsey and Sacha reeled her in, the girl sputtering.

“Liza? Is that you? Lily too?” the girl exclaimed.

“Sofia?” Liza and Lily questioned in unison.

Everyone sat in silence, confused as ever. They were here for a reason, they didn’t know. But she did. Sofia got up first, her brown hair and eyes looked around confused.

“Let’s settle down, we’ll go to a nearby stop and see if anyone knows anything about falling people.” Kelsey concluded sarcastically.

Sacha led the Liza, Sofia, and lily to the sleeping quarters. Giuliana watched the deck as Kelsey steered the ship to skull dock. The breeze cooled down heat of Kelseys problems. And she blacked out, words were whispered into her head. They swirled and twirled in her head.

“Darune is not satisfied, the girls will end it all, these words will save from fatal fall.”

And she woke. Kelsey sat up, everyone was asleep. They arrived at the dock, Kelsey sat up all night watching and making sure no one came on.

The girls all woke up stopping at Sharky’s Diner. An old but a classic place to eat. Everyone loved the food. No one knew that some food can be so good.

“Mmmmm, that’s good.” Liza gurgled, she was stuffed with all the good food.

Sacha was watching the window as she saw someone go to an alley, very suspicious.

“Hey can we go over there?” Sacha asked. “Sure lets see whats down that area but bring your weapons, this place isn’t the best.”

Everyone walked in seeing a bookstore, the girls walked in knowing answers could be there for what happened yesterday.

“That was suspiciously convenient” Kelsey sarcastically snickered.

Everyone walked in looking around, something caught Kelsey’s eye. The ancient city of Darune it said. Kelsey flipped through the book. Darune was an evil enchantress who ruled a kingdom, Darune. Hungry for power she took and took until the --- took her out. She seeks for revenge they say. Kelsey was confused, what was the missing piece? Who ever stopped her was ripped out of the old crumpled brown book.

Kelsey tiptoed around to find where everyone was. Giuliana had went outside, Liza and Sofia were looking at paintings while Lily and Sacha were giggling in the corner of the store.

“Hello, may I buy this book?” Kelsey asked.

“Take it. I don’t want that old lump of paper, I thought it went missing years ago though.” the old lady snarled with a snap.

Kelsey walked as everyone else was waiting.

“I found this old book in the store and it’s about this evil lady thing with powers who got taken out or something.” Kelsey remarked.

“Wait,wait,wait you mean the evil enchantress Darune?” Giuliana uttured

“How do you know--”

Wait this all matches up, the bones of paradise defeated her! They rose up from the oceans and fell from the sky! This is exactly what happened to us!” Giuliana squealed.

Everyone that day only went by the Bones of Paradise.

Off in an far away in the ruined city of Darune, an Ancient queen woke up from her slumber. She is ready to fight the Bones of Paradise once again.

“Alright, alright let’s vote who should be who” Kelsey concluded.

All morning they were fighting over captain and Kelsey won the title “leader of the ship” Of course other people got other jobs. Giuliana got co-captain, Sacha and Lily as look out’s, Liza with first-aid, and Sofia as the armour collector. Everyone agreed on a name they would love to be called by from other people. These six girls were now the bones of paradise.

Later that night Sacha was awoken by a huge crash. The boat was sinking. Sacha ran outside to see a tall woman holding a staff. The woman cackled and pointed her staff directly at Sacha. Then she blacked out, she never woke up like the other five girls who never awoke either.

Regna knows time better than just about anyone.

She has seen the ripples caused by every action. The more significant an event, the wider the ripples on the surface of the great time-river. But eventually, those ripples melt back into the ever-flowing current.

Regna, being ancient, sees time from such a distance that she comprehends the cosmic pattern. She sees that time is like variations on a musical theme; the same song, repeating in an endless cycle. There are changes in the orchestration. People, places, circumstances shift. History doesn't repeat itself exactly every time.

Still, the same melody may be perceived behind everything that happens.

Metaphor and allegory. It can be tiresome. But with something as grand and deliciously incomprehensible as time, metaphor is a mouthpiece for greater truths that you humans do not yet have the words to express.

Regna has a story. She cannot tell it like you would tell it, because she does not speak in words, so I must translate. A near impossible task. I had best stop putting this off.

Here is a story for you, Regna’s story, of a girl she knew long ago. It doesn’t come close to communicating any cosmic truth, but perhaps you may detect, behind these words, a strain of the melody of the universe.

There was once a child, on a planet far from here. Her name meant, in her language, something like eye of the hurricane. I am summarizing—names on this planet take pages to write out fully. Let us call her Linda. I am told that is a common name on your world.  

Linda’s people knew immediately that she was different. I will call them the Stormfolk, because they lived in a land where it was often raining. They raised her separate from others, exposed her to ideas they would not normally, because she was so different.

By the time Linda was only twelve of your years old, she was considered an elder. This is because she had been born with a strange gift.

On the rainswept night of her birth, her parents noticed two things. First: the eye of the hurricane passed over the city at the instant she was born. This is what led to her name. Second: her behavior was strange from the very start—her movements jerky, her voice high-pitched and distorted. Her parents soon deduced what was “wrong” with her.

She experienced time differently. You see—and I must resort to metaphor again to describe this—her planet was situated at the center of the time-river, where its current was strongest and wildest. I will call it Stormworld. The philosophers of Stormworld theorized that perhaps the storms occured during ripples in the time-river. Thus, children like Regna, born during a storm, often saw time in a much different way.

To Linda, all the worried nurses and relatives and elders who watched over her moved in slow motion. In the eyes of the rest of the Stormfolk, she was like a hummingbird, always in motion, flitting about, impossible to keep in sight for more than a moment. During one of her parents’ days, some twenty of Linda’s days passed.

When she learned to write, she was finally able to communicate with her parents, writing long, detailed messages in the blink of an eye. But when she spoke, her voice was like birdsong.

Having twenty times as much time as the rest of us, she was able to learn a great deal in a very short period of time. That is how she became a wise elder in twelve years. Linda soon took up residence in—here language fails me again.

I could say it was like a tree without branches, or a great beast with roots. If you crossed a tree and a winged lion, the result would be something like this. Whatever you want to call it, it was asleep. Always asleep. It would wake up someday, when it saw fit, according to legend.

I will call it a Qualgur. This is the beginning of the Stormfolk’s word for the beast. An unwieldy word, but it will do.

Qualgurs once flew in the sky like your birds, the legend goes, and the Stormfolk rode them, nestled in their cavernous mouths. But when the beasts first saw the forest, they were so taken with the trees that they decided to follow their example, anchoring themselves in the earth and falling into a plantlike slumber. It was impossible for the Stormfolk to awake their beloved steeds. Instead, many of them made homes out of the sleeping Qualgurs’ maws, so that they would not be parted from their companions. The tree-bird-houses did not seem to mind this repurposing of their bodies, they were so absorbed in their meditation, and so it was that Linda came to dwell inside of a Qualgur.

Regna is telling me now something very challenging to relay to you. I am of a race that can use both spoken language and telepathy, a race that has been observing humans for a long time and knows their languages, so I am her translator. However, I am beginning to think I may have bit off more than I can chew, to quote your expression. (I do not in fact chew, I absorb radiation for energy.) Much of what she says I myself barely understand.

How should I say this? I will give some background. The Qualgurs, when they were ridden and not used as homes, communicated with the Stormfolk through telepathy. The Stormfolk evolved to detect telepathic messages, developing a new section of their minds devoted to the interpretation of brain waves. When the Qualgurs fell asleep, this section of the mind became useless.

Yet during Linda’s first few days living in the Qualgur, she felt a sort of prickling in her mind, a waking-up feeling. An inner eye opened. No, not an eye, more of an ear. This part of her brain she had never used before began to pick up the dreams, the slow, meditative thoughts of the Qualgur. That sense of telepathic connection lost to her people returned, an almost imperceptible, a tingling, a crawling sensation.

Then, the Qualgur fell deeper into slumber, and that feeling was gone.

Linda wove a hammock from the hairs on the outside of the Qualgur, and meditated, and slept, and dreamed, just like her living, breathing home. Occasionally, she would wake with a hint of that tingling feeling. Any two creatures who have dreamed together share a strange and beautiful bond.

Linda would give whatever answers she could to the Stormfolk’s questions. Like Regna, she did not consider herself wise. She studied ancient texts and listened to the rushing of the time-river. If she found messages in it, or important ideas buried in the ancient texts, she would pass them on to the Stormfolk. If not, then she would dream, and the Qualgur would dream with her.

One day, she heard a clear and urgent message beneath the sound of the time-river. The storm brings with it something new today. Home will be home no longer.

Disturbed, Linda walked to the city to alert the people. Something was coming.

War had never come to Stormworld, because another kind of war was fought every day against the storms. The cruel elements forced the Stormfolk to work as one. Therefore, war had to come not from within, but from without.

There is a very distant world that is home to a species called the Gganth. They are more like you than they are like the Stormfolk, I am sad to say. Their language, appearance, and most importantly, their temperament are much like yours. They are explorers and adventurers. They are also warriors and conquerors. A path of destruction lies in their wake, wherever they fly in their spaceships. A party of their fighters had reached Stormworld.

Like you, these Gganth were fairly intelligent. They knew that a storm would cloak their arrival. They hid their ships in the hurricane’s eye and followed it towards the largest settlement.

The Gganth are different from you in one sense. They have a much better understanding of time. Instead of treating this knowledge as a gift, like the Stormfolk, they use it as a weapon. They have invented ugly machines that are like dams on the time-river, machines that start and stop time, freezing their enemies in place, helpless and robbed of their time, so that the Gganth can slaughter them. This is how the warrior race was able to extinguish so many cultures. It is impossible to fight back when you have no time to fight in.

The Gganth ships slid silently through the sky. The Gganth were certain they would not be discovered until they were directly above the natives. They would eradicate the native life and mine the planet for its resources.

They did not know that Linda, who was so attuned to the patterns in history, who understood time like no other, who listened to the rushing of the time-river and brought its messages to the people, anticipated their arrival. She was ready.

When the Gganth emerged from the storm clouds, they were shocked to find the city empty. Linda had convinced the other elders to evacuate the people. Alone in the silence was a girl, a twitching, fidgeting, darting girl who moved more like an insect.

“Regna,” laughed the Gganth king, his word for “child.” He was amused. Was this the valiant defense this world had to offer? On other worlds, the natives had at least put up a fight.

The Gganth king leapt from the ship, his fall cushioned by flaps of skin on his back that were the remains of wings shredded in battle.

“Regna,” he said, “lyutha kurgeli.” It was a challenge. Linda understood.

She examined the Gganth king, searching for weaknesses. She saw that he was confident, powerful, muscular. She saw that he held a club in one of his five hands, and in another, what looked like a small box.

He did not yet understand her power, so she decided to use it to her advantage, darting back in forth until she was a blur.

The Gganth king’s grin only widened. His fingers, which were riddled with burn marks from many battles, closed over the box in his hand.

It was some sort of trigger, Linda realized, for a weapon. She was not afraid. No weapon could harm her. She would dodge any bullet in an instant.

Then, the Gganth king activated the trigger.

Everything stopped.

Linda’s thoughts were somewhere else. They were not in her head anymore. She looked down and saw herself frozen. The clouds no longer moved. The droplets of rain hung, motionless, over the ground. The Gganth king alone moved, swiftly, without hesitating. With a blow of his club he felled Linda, and her body crumpled to the ground.

Linda saw herself fall, but felt no pain. She was separate now. She could do nothing.

A tingling. A waking-up feeling. The weapon had halted everything. Yet somehow, something was keeping her thoughts from stopping. A being that was asleep was keeping her awake.

The Qualgur was tugging at her, speaking to her.

Please, friend, said Linda with her mind, it is time to wake up now.

The Gganth king stepped closer to the lifeless form of Linda. Dead? Unconscious? He would answer all questions with a single stroke of his club. He would make sure she never moved again.

There was a noise like the world was ending, a wave of sound hurling itself at the Gganth invaders. A being of such power that even a dam on the time-river could not stop it.

The Qualgur erupted from the earth, spreading its wings for the first time in millenia. It roared, violently expelling Linda’s furniture from its mouth, and surged towards the Gganth ships. It slammed its horns into the king’s craft, causing a shower of sparks. The time-halting weapon shattered into pieces, and the rain fell once again.

The remaining Gganth did something they had never in the history of their people done before. They fled. The ships vanished, as abruptly as they had arrived.

Linda saw all this. Or maybe she felt more than saw. She no longer had eyes. Her body, down below, lay dead on the ground. The king, consumed by the explosion of his ship, was dead as well.

Linda was bodiless. She did not know how she was alive, only that she could still think. Then, she heard a gentle, wordless voice in her mind. The Qualgur. Here is what it said, translated to words.

You have left your physical self behind. I cannot bring it back. I was able to preserve your consciousness, but for you to survive, you need a host. I will allow you space within my body so that you may live on as part of me.

Linda was horrified. How will I tell my people that I am still alive? How will I ever feel anything again?

The Qualgur’s wordless voice was sad, but something about it gave Linda hope. You have always felt more with your mind than with your body. Together, we will be greater than either of us was alone. I have watched you since your birth. You are the first of the Stormfolk in generations who could communicate with me so well. We may spread our knowledge across the universe, so that other beings will not fall to darkness like the Gganth. But if you are to stay with me, you must learn to speak without words.

Linda was beginning to see what Qualgur meant. To understand the melody of the cosmos, she would need to learn to listen better. To listen to the song of the stars, the teachings of all living things across many galaxies.

The Qualgur knew she understood. What shall we call ourself?

Linda thought back to the Gganth king, the name he had called her.

We shall call ourself Regna.

This is where Regna’s story ends. I will continue it a bit further. Regna, her mind wedded with that of the Qualgur, travelled from world to world. Sometimes, the creatures ignored her teachings. Sometimes they embraced them. Every planet she visited, Regna gained more knowledge and understanding, until she arrived at Earth. A planet with many good listeners. However, she at first had trouble communicating, so she returned to my world, which she had visited several of your months before, and enlisted my help. A translator. I have done my best to put into words Regna’s story, in the hopes that it may open the eyes of humanity to new perspectives. I am afraid, though, that some very important sections were omitted because of the difficulties conveying them to you. I can only hope I have been as clear as possible. I hope someday that you will learn to move beyond words, so that you may learn Regna’s secrets firsthand. Until then, I will be your translator.

the flowers lie perfectly still in the pond of water

petals scattered, adrift and reflected

I had watched the vase tip over with someone’s accidental touch

a very light, quite faint motion

and it left the surface of the table, descending with little resistance

the vase was beautiful and ornate

valued as priceless by its owner, for it was a family heirloom

intricate patterns painted across the sides

strings of lanterns intertwined to show a path

with the darkened forest and silver crescent set behind

the pieces are sharp fragments

edges deep and straight enough to cause bleeding

but I hear the bleeding in the owner’s heart when she sees the scene

everyone heard the crash, but only she cradled the broken pieces

I too saw the beauty, but not in the same way

the broken vase was a form of art by itself

for destruction can sometimes be the same as creation

enough to move the mind, enough to create tears of emotion

enough to shake the soul, and enough to be remembered for all time

and I think to myself

is it not still even more astonishing when the pieces are brought back together?

just like when a person rises from their ashes and dust

as a stronger person with a vision to live and a future of hope

in the end, however

I laugh for the irony of the situation

for those flowers were a bouquet of freesias

a representation of joy.

An open envelope drops onto the table. Another one. A third, then one more. 

My hands are shaking, stained with ink. Papercuts line my fingertips. I don’t want another letter. 

Several more fall onto the table. The boy next to me works with a vacant stare, stamping addresses indifferently. I wish I was that mindless. 

I reach for the next envelope, folding back the flap. I pause. 

What if I didn’t close this one?

A shadow appears on my right, sensing my hesitation. Inching closer, it seeps like ink over the floor, the table, my clothes. Until I can feel it’s darkness on the back of my neck. 

I will myself to move, but I can’t even breathe, frozen. 

“Aw honey, cat got your tongue?”

The voice purrs above my ear, sour breath so close I gag.

“Get back to work. NOW!” 

The words shatter my defiance, sending ice slithering down my back. My hand jerks to my mouth. I run my tongue over the envelope so fast I cut it. My mouth fills with metal, but I reach for another. 

“Much better, kitten.”

The shadow slinks away, hovering just out of sight.

I reach for another envelope. 
 

The news crashed into me like a train. It made me stumble, fall, and crumble under the weight of it. It brought waves after waves of grief and tears that seemed like they would never end. I felt like I would never live again. As if I was the one who was gone; who would never return, who I would never see again.  Years later, I would think that 'yes, that person is now gone.' As of now, my pain and tribulation seemed eternal. I looked at the messenger of the bad news, hoping, praying, even begging; was there anything left? Did he have, even an ounce of, good news, an ounce of consolation?  He said a few incomprehensible words to me, words that probably made sense, but I could not understand anything. He seemed to realize this and handed me a sealed envelope, patted my shoulder and left. 

What would a pitiful, insignificant envelope do to console my screaming, broken heart?   I shoved the envelope deep inside a drawer, stumbled into my bed and sobbed until sleep pulled me under its shade. I spent days after days under a cloud of sadness and depression. I couldn't heal, I refused to. How could I, when the person who was my role model, who guided me through every part of my life was gone?  I wallowed in sadness. Even though days went on, it seemed as if my life wouldn't.  

After a month like this, my brother, Nick, came to me. He looked healthy, changed, almost happy. He saw me in this pitiful state and remarked, "Do you care at all about him? Do you even remember him?"  His words cut through me like a sword. Of course, I cared! Of course, I remember! How dare he say something like that?  I was going to retort back to him, hurt and angry, but then he said, " Have you even read the letter? The one inside the sealed envelope?"  I looked at him, confused and baffled. Suddenly it dawned on me, the envelope the messenger gave. I looked at him and shook my head. He sighed and said "Read it, Jess. It will help. I promise." And with this, he left. 

    A day later, I decided to open the drawer. I could not get myself to find the envelope. The next day, I located the envelope.  I could not stand to touch it. The day after, Tuesday, I held the envelope. On the front of it was scrawled my name in his handwriting. I could not bear to open it. The next day, I gently unsealed it. I could not make myself look inside of it. Two days later, I took out the neatly folded paper.  I did not unfold it. On Sunday, I unfolded it. I could not read a word. On Wednesday, I made the decision to embark on this painful journey.

It started, "My dear, dear girl, I'm sorry. " These six words made me want to stop, but I pushed myself. "I'm sorry that I had to go. I'm sorry that because of me, your hurting. But you need to know somethings.  First, I need you to forgive me. I could not control the time of my death. If I could, if anyone could, then this world would not be our world. This world is full of ups and downs.  Embrace them. And with this in mind, forgive me. " This is all I could read. I got up from the floor and started to pace. Should I really put myself through this? I was not sure. Can I forgive him for leaving me in this terrible world? And I realized, at the end of the day, I could. 

The next day, I started reading again. "Now that you have forgiven me, forgive yourself. There was nothing you could have done. Everyone has their time. This time, it was my turn. Nothing you could have done, nothing the doctors could have done would have saved me. I had to go, and I accepted it. Don't blame yourself for something you could not have controlled. I loved you and I know you loved me. If you still love me, then forgive yourself." I stopped reading. How did he know that is the way I felt. That deep down inside, I blamed myself.  That I wouldn't let myself out of this depression because of this pain I felt, this guiltiness. But could I ever forgive myself? These were the thoughts spinning in my head for the rest of the day.

On Friday, I began reading where I left off. " I hope you have forgiven yourself. With all that sadness, depression and negativity, how are you? Be happy Jessica. Live in this moment because it will never come back. No matter how sad, happy, depressed, excited you are, take advantage of the moment. Don't be a plant that only grows only towards the sun. Grow in every direction and spread your leaves. Give your shade to all who seek. Let your wisdom be as deep as the ocean. Let your kindness be like rain that falls everywhere on everyone.  Let your knowledge cover the Earth and beyond. Live your full potential. Don't let anyone stop you from being better. Cut through the world's prejudices and biases. Be someone who leaves a mark on this world, not someone who will live and die without anyone's remembrance.  I know you, Jessica. You are a human, just like the billions on this Earth, but be different. Anyone can be, and I am telling you, go show the world what they need. Show them the truth and never give up. You will always see good and bad, but the bravest one is the one who rises from their past and creates their future." I stopped at this. Did he really believe in me that much? Did he really think I can do this? I reflected on these questions the entire day. Just before I fell asleep, I understood what he was saying. He knows anyone can do this, but it's his dream for me to do this.

I woke up the next day and started reading right away. "I hope you have realized what you can become. Fly higher than the stars. But how can you without wings?  Remember Jessica, your wings are made of determination and balance. With determination, asses yourself and make changes. The world will change with you.  With determination, make goals. The world will challenge you. With balance, attain perfection in the work you do. You, yourself will never be perfect, but let perfection shine through your work. With balance, attain peace because through unbalance we only have chaos.  And remember, be who you are meant to be. I have one last thing to say to you, my girl, never forget about those who love you. This is all I have to give you, my girl. I hope my advice will push you to push the limits of the world and break through. Make this messed up world a better place, for yourself and those who will come after. I love you so much.
Sincerely and lovingly,
Your beloved father,"
I started crying. Could I do this? Can I grow? Can I live? Can I flourish? Can I fly? And the answer to all these questions is yes. Yes, I can. I can be better. And this is the advice that I am sharing with you that my father gave me. Will you fly? Will you soar? Will you change in order to make a change? Become better, become stronger.
 Later, I found out my dad had died of cancer. He hadn't told anyone. I found out from my mom that he had passed away peacefully. I hope I will be able to fulfill his dreams. I hope you all will be able to. I hope we will all change the world.

If I could paint with words

I’d dip my fingers into a hundred jars of ink

And I would light a page with a thousand sparks of joy

I’d start by sketching the sun, sky and moon

Twilight wild goosebumps, ghost tales and shivers

A sunrise warm, world caught in a sleepy yawn

Dusk still and quiet, empty of breath and song

Noon scorching with the real, all else burnt to dust

I might then turn to life, motion, excitement

With a galloping herd of zebras, breaking light

As a dark slick crocodile slunk forward

Then snap!, bright red blood flows

And energy grows

And running sprinting panic must escape

And I think I’d have to let the other zebras get away

And turn to still my heart beat

(As it thump thump thumped in it’s cage)

A flower, delicacy, glass, frost, beauty

Color seeping in, lending a vibrance

Spice, reds and yellows and orange

Or maybe sliding into a slick green leaf

Waxy, still, calm

I’d slip into a dream

Dancing figures leaping across a painted sky

Swans intertwined with candy canes

A thousand meters high

And they would spin and twirl

A blur of perfection

But faster

Faster

Faster still and no it’s not good now

But still spinning twisting whirling

A hurricane of light

And out spits a thousand frogs

And red trains chugging forward

A whirlpool of marbles

Falling through a giant’s hand

Flashing colors crazy

Purple yellow up and down

Zigzagging around

And pounding, breaking

A hurricane of sound

Until I can’t take it anymore

And I jump up!

And I settle back down

I don’t think I’ll go back

Quite yet at least

That’s plenty of dreams for me

So I think I’ll paint a lullaby

Warm, soft, safe, and real

Snuggle in a blanket

A glass of warm milk

Childhood returns

Innocent, fun, play a game

Silly, excitement, follow me

Happy giggles, wonder and delight

A teddy bear

A painted doll

A sleepy goodnight

An I’ll leave with just one more quick sight

A thousand lights in sync, twinkling

Far, beyond grasp

Close, I think I can reach

Colorful jewels

Tiny but so huge

I think I’ve shrunken

But I feel so large

The sky’s so large

Life in every direction

And there is so much light

your ideas are selective
you say the news is a bore
“nothing here concerns me”
and prove it first by closing your door
“I dont care”
and you draw your blinds
“it really can’t be that bad out there”
you shut your eyes tight 
lean into the silence 
“nothing is wrong on my planet earth”
you board up the windows
and nail down the door
“see, nothing's wrong, I'm here and just doing alright”
you turn out the lights 
climb into bed
plug in ear plugs
and tie the sheets over your head
you wrap a cloth around your eyes for good measure 
viva indifference 

the lengths you go to listen to silence 
for the screams of the end of the world are ear-splitting 
you do not want to know of pain and sorrow 
life is easier that way
even as you create silence in your own mind
editing out what you call negative thinking 
this negativity is someone’s everyday
this negativity is someone’s every breath
maybe it is so you don't have to care, to hurt, to think, to feel wrong, to feel wronged
you want to lay back and never try anymore a day in your life
because maybe it is easier pretending things are fine
with your headphones in you can't hear the planet being destroyed 
you don't want to put in effort for change
you don't want to see the things that’ll make you cry
you don't want to admit that we could fail as a species
and you definitely don't want to save the world today 
viva indifference

you build your house in the wilderness of avoidance  
far far away from the civilization in a path of pain
you move away, in fear of knowing the truth
convince yourself that you "just don't like the noise" 
decay speaks to you in the essence of seeking your tears
“but these tears belong to me I will not shed them upon the weak”
if you don't speak out you are just adding to the destruction 
you don't want to believe this 
you've plugged your ears again
the end of humanity is your fault if you chose to be naive
but you’ll probably just ignore this too
carry on and hold your indifference tight 
you will never change the world

“Alright Jake, try to be quick this time. I have to take your sister to soccer practice in just a few minutes.”

    My mom stopped the car right in front of Eric’s house. With a laugh and a tired smile, she turned to me.

    “You kids make it so chaotic all the time.” She sounded slightly irritated. “I can’t wait until you’re out of the house, so I can do something other than being everyone’s chauffeur.”

    “Sorry, mom.” I sighed and tried to unclick the scorching hot seatbelt buckle without burning my fingertips. I had to sacrifice an entire hand to open up the car door. 

    Hopping out of my seat, I scurried to Eric’s front door. Out of habit, I reached up to knock, but then remembered and dug the key out of my pocket. 

    Mid-July, it was scorching hot in the middle of Arizona. I was stuck here, swimming in my own sweat while Eric was off on vacation. He left me behind to care for his fish, his pride and joy. It took him three months of chores to prove he was responsible enough to take care of it. 

    I shoved the key into the lock and swung the door open. I looked back to my mom and she waved to me impatiently to hurry up.

    The minute I stepped inside I was met with a rush of cold air on my skin. We don’t have an air conditioner at home, so I spent most of the summer camped out at Eric’s house, shooting hoops until we overheated, and then playing video games in the basement until we had cooled off enough to do it again. Sometimes, we would have soda as a treat. The un-caffeinated kind, of course. Both of our parents agreed we are too young for caffeine. 

    I slipped off my shoes and tossed them next to the door. I breathed for a second, then headed to the back of the house. 

    My feet slid on the hardwood floors, and I made a game of sliding from one to another like I was ice skating.

 Swish…Swish...Swish.

I spun. 

Well, I tried to spin at least. I ended up with my elbow smacking against the hardwood floor, making my arm feel all tingly. 

Shaking my wrist, I walked into the kitchen to find the fish. 

Eric left me a note on the fridge with information about feeding. And a few other things too. I pulled it down, even though I read it yesterday.

It said:

Hey stinkface, Thanks for feeding my fish. Enjoy being a mature, responsible kid like me for 5 whole days. You should give it a big pinch of food every day, about the size of a quarter. Speaking of the size of a quarter, that’s the same size as your brain. I know you miss me. From, Eric

He was right, I did miss him. 

I pulled a stool over, climbed onto it, and peered into the tank, looking for the goldfish’s black and orange spots. 

The fish tank was big, at least to me. It had three plastic plants, which were bright purple and pink. The rocks at the bottom were light blue, dusted in fuzzy green. Algae, Eric said it was called. In the middle, there was a big white rock with a hole so the fish could swim right through it. That was my favorite part, the rock. I wanted to swim under an archway like that. 

I couldn’t find the fish right away. He wasn’t swimming around or hiding behind the big rock. I pressed my nose to the glass, leaving a little smudge. 

Eventually, I found him huddled behind the pink plant. 

He seemed to be almost lying on the bottom of the tank. Taking a rest, probably. I’d be tired from all that swimming. 

Satisfied with having found the fish, I grabbed the jar of food. I took a big pinch of green and yellow flakes, pulled the top off of the tank, sprinkled in the food, and closed it up. I pressed my nose back up against the glass. 

It was time for my favorite part: watching the fish eat. 

But the fish didn’t move. Instead of his usual frenzied feeding, he just lay next to the plant. 

    Slightly irritated by his lack of response, I tapped on the glass. Maybe I just needed to wake him up from a nap. I rested my forehead against the tank and tapped even more. 

“Come on, fishy,” I urged. I knew my mom was waiting impatiently in the car, but I didn’t want to miss watching the fish dart around to catch his lunch. I prodded the glass a final time. 

He didn’t even flinch. 

“Go, get your food.”

In a final attempt to wake him from his slumber, I pulled off the lid again and reached directly into the tank. My hand looked strange and distorted through the glass, so I waggled my fingers, admiring how they appeared to change shape. 

Then, I reached down to poke the fish. I nudged his slimy, scaly, skin, but he didn’t move. 

Why wasn’t he moving? I started to panic. There was only one reason I could think of.

I reached down again, this time closing my hand around the fish, and pulling him higher up in the tank. Surely this would wake him up. I let go, giving him room to start swimming. 

But he didn’t swim. He sank. 

When his motionless body hit the bottom of the tank, my worst fears were confirmed. 

I took a shuddering deep breath. 

Dead. 

Another breath, this one catching in my throat, turning into a sob.

Dead because of me. 

Tears formed at the corners of my eyes and trailed down my cheeks. My lungs felt tight like I couldn’t breathe fast enough.

I’d killed my best friend’s fish. 

My hand was still in the tank, hanging limply in the water. I pulled it out slowly, leaving the fish where he had fallen. Tears were running down my face, snot was leaking out of my nose, fish water was dripping down my arm. I was a wet mess. I was a murderer.

Five days. Eric had left me in charge of his fish for five days. Such a short time and I had still managed to kill his fish. I didn’t even know it’s name.

Eventually, I put the lid back on the tank and stepped down from the stool. I walked over to the sink and rinsed off my arms and face. I scrubbed at my hand for a whole minute, trying to erase the feeling of scales from my fingertips. 

I dried my hands, and then realized I had no idea what to do. The fish was dead, and Eric’s family wasn’t going to be home for another two days. Should I just leave it? That felt wrong. Leaving a dead body in a tank for them to find. My insides twisted with guilt. But what else was I going to do? Hold a funeral without Eric?

I decided to call Eric’s mom. She would know what to do.
 
I pulled the stool away from the fish tank and dragged it over to the cabinet that had the phone on top. I climbed up and grabbed the phone and the post-it that had her phone number on it. 

Setting the note on the counter, I punched the numbers into the phone and held it to my ear. It rang once, twice, and then Eric’s mom answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mrs. Perry?” My voice cracked as I spoke. 

“Is everything alright?” She sounded worried.

“Y-yeah. Well not really.” 

“Are you okay?” Now she sounded alarmed. “Did you get hurt, or-”

“No, no, I’m fine. It just…” I swallowed, holding back another wave of tears. 

“Just what?”

“Just I- the- the fish,” I choked out, “He’s dead.”

The other end of the phone was silent for a second. 

“Oh honey, it's alright,” she said, her voice soft and sympathetic. “He was getting old anyway. It’s time for him to leave this world and move onto the next, you know?”

“I-I guess,” I said, my voice shaky. 

“Everything is going to be fine. We needed him out of the house anyway, to do our kitchen remodel. He’s in a better place.”

    “Yeah,” I sniffed. “What should I do? Like with the fish?”

“Just leave him where he is, okay? We’ll take care of it when we get home.”
“Alright.” 

“See you soon, okay? And really, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Mrs. Perry.”

“Bye.”

The call ended with a beep, and I put the phone back on the cabinet. I pushed the stool back into the corner, where it belonged. 

    I took one last look at the fish. It lay on the bottom of the tank, pale orange with faded black spots. Dead. Left and moved on. Just like Mrs. Perry said. Out of the house. 

    Those words seemed familiar. 

“I can’t wait until you are out of the house,” My mom had said. 

Did she wish I was gone? Dead?

I could feel the prickling of tears at the back of my eyes. 

    “Goodbye,” I whispered to the fish. 
 

Laughter bubbles from a corner

Hair tucked behind ears,

Faces dotted with rainbow freckles

Hands and arms dance about

Colors fly through the air

Banana yellow,

Radish red,

Hints of blue and green

Bright accents,

Dynamic changes,

Spinning and singing,

Music for our eyes

An hour of bliss,

Unrestrained and bright,

New ideas flow

From young excited minds

The sun dips lower

Colors fade to pastel

Rosy cheeks wave goodbye

Until next week!

Light

and

Dark

Even

and

Odd

Up

and

Down

Cold

and

Hot

Peace

and

War

Clean

and

Dirty

True

and

False

Give

and

Take

Love

and

Hate

Good

and

Bad

Angels

and

Demons