Stone Marbles and Lightening Rods
"Ailee!" Zoe threw something in a blinding arc of light. "Catch!"
The object landed near Ailee's feet but she was too busy trying to fend off the advancing panganibs. Her rod was whirling, sending off sparks, but all it was doing was delaying the creatures.
Determined to end things, she rushed forward ready to toast the panganibs. Suddenly she stumbled on a small globe of amethyst.
Zoe had managed to dart by the panganibs while they were focused on Ailee. She appeared next to her friend and pulled her up. "Hold onto the marble." She urged. "I can help us."
Ailee looked into Zoe's blue eyes. She saw no panic, only surety. Picking up the marble with her left hand she clutched Zoe's hand with her right.
Zoe took Ailee's other hand as well and squeezed them both.
Ailee felt herself being compressed as if she was a telescope being collapsed. Then all she saw was purple.
The Pillow Fort
The pillow fort seemed like a great idea until the scritches showed up. Scritches are a lot smarter than everyone gives them credit for. It's true that they don't look like much with their squat bodies, but those compact rocky forms unfurl and they become fairly vicious. They aren't inherently evil- well nothing is- but they just can't stand people having fun when they're not invited. And that's why the pillow fort was a problem
It's not that I set out to exclude the scritches I just didn't know they lived in my part of Analia. Scritches live in the mountains of Laindera in the east, not in the center in the capital of Munika. Some miner must have harvested them thinking they were diamonds and brought them into the city. I'd heard stories of accidental scritch mining but it had never happened to anyone I knew personally so I never considered the possibility. Urban creatures don't care what humans do. Sure they live in your house but they just watch us for the most part like we're museum exhibits. Scritches however aren't used to living in the city and they don't understand humans. So when they saw my pillow fort they took offense.
I guess if we're playing the blame game (a favorite pastime) then I can blame the rain for the pillow fort catastrophe. And the rain was Nellie's fault. She was home from school and decided to show us her mastery over weather spells. Well, she did make it rain but then she forgot the reversal spell. Or, to be more accurate, we found out later that she had skipped the class where her professor had taught the reversal spell. So all of Munika was suffering from the downpour and we were told that the city's wizards were dealing with dump dragons. However, the dragons were apparently more powerful than the wizards because all the wizards had been trapped in a garbage vortex. With no wizards we had to wait until the spell wore off. Unfortunately, Nellie was pretty powerful and we were looking at a week of casting and recasting water-repelling charms to keep everything from getting too water logged.
The rain also meant that even though it was summer vacation I couldn't really go outside. Mom had said she didn't want me wandering around in a flood zone, which I guess was sweet of her. But she also wouldn't let me use the tunnels to wander Munika's underground. So really, what other choice did I have but to construct and elaborate pillow fort?
My fort deserved a place in an art museum. It was a multi-level affair with ladder of blankets connecting the cushioned floors. The whole thing was draped in quilts and expertly (if I do say so myself) held together by binding spells. The structure was sturdy enough that even when Charlie decided to enchant our kitchen chairs to stampede into my fort it didn't fall down. All ion all, I was pretty proud of my handiwork.
Those first few days I spent most of my time in the fort. It wasn't like I did much. I read, ate, practiced my spells and basically did whatever I would have done in my room. But as is always the case, doing old things in a new location automatically makes them new again. And whenever I got bored I would explore the fort. The crowning jewel of my fort was the automatic-expansion spell I had managed to cast, resulting in an ever changing maze of pillows, cushions, and bolsters. I kept making additions to the map pinned by the fort's main entrance.
One day I was in what I thought of as my study working on the map when Charlie came in. I had forgiven him for attempting to destroy my fort and he had promptly given himself the title of second-in-command. (I was just glad he had refrained from calling himself commander). Nellie trailed behind him bringing droplets of water into the chamber.
"Nellie please dry off." I tossed her a towel.
She wrung out her leaking hair.
"That will take forever to dry," I complained pointing to the puddle she had left on the floor.
"Quit whining Ella. Your fort is fine."
I glared at her. "Why are you so wet anyway?"
Nellie started to towel off her arms. "I was trying to stop the rain." She gave up on her sweatshirt and tugged it over her head spraying Charlie with water. "It didn't work."
Charlie glared at Nellie. "Now I'm wet."
Nellie shrugged. "It's just water, like I said, it'll dry."
"You mean like the rain outside?"
I grabbed Nellie before she could do something nasty to Charlie. Weather spells might not have been Nellie's strong suite but she had jinxes down pat. Yesterday, just because she was bored she had given Charlie gills. he had to spend three hours with his head in a bowl of water until Mom figured out the correct counter-jinx.
"Why are you guys here anyway?"
Charlie peeled Nellie's sweatshirt off his stomach and placed his palm flat on it. In a matter of seconds it was dry. he gave it back to Nellie.
"That's what a drying charm looks like."
To me he said, "we dot bored. I wanted to build a boat and sail through the streets that Nellie flooded but mom seemed to think that would be dangerous. So we're here instead."
"I'm you're second choice? I'm flattered." I sighed. There was no point in trying to convince Charlie or Nellie to leave. When one of us did something exciting we all wanted to be a part of it. It could be annoying but it was an unwritten sibling law that had to be obeyed.
I got off my chair and dragged two stacks of cushions over to Charlie and Nellie. "Sit down then. You guys can hang out here. Hot chocolate?"
They both nodded. I snapped my fingers and an urn and three mugs floated off my desk. Still hovering in the air the urn poured graceful streams of liquid into each mug. With another snap of my fingers the urn returned to my desk and the mugs floated down into our hands.
"Show off." Nellie grumbled but she took a sip anyway.
I sat back down at my desk. "Look, you have jinxes, Charlie has charms, and I'm best at working with objects."
"You know we can all do everything." Nellie objected. "Magic isn't exclusive."
Charlie nudged Nellie with his foot. "C'mon Nell, don't be jealous. You know that we're all better at different things. I mean, you can technically cook but no one wants to eat your food. And we can all do magic but you're not going to the best at every type."
Nellie grumbled but since Charlie wasn't wearing gills again I guess she agreed.
When the hot chocolate was gone I stretched. "So now that you're here what do you want to do?"
Charlie leapt to his feet. "Can we build a boat here? I really do want to go sailing."
"I built this fort so I wouldn't get wet."
"Ella stop whining," Nellie ordered me. "We can keep your pillows dry with water-repellent charms."
"What is the water floods the house? Mom is barely tolerating a pillow-filled attic. I don't think she'd appreciate a soggy one."
"Ella we've got it under control. We'll find an empty room in your fort and build a pool. Then we'll build a boat, shrink ourselves, and have our own personal ocean." Nellie can be too persuasive at times. It's not magic, just something all older sisters can do.
River Story (Not actual Title)
I sat on a raft, which was very Huck Finn of me. Except my companion wasn't an escaped slave, it was a crotchety owl. Nigle was perched on my shoulder, worrying in my ear.
"You should not have done this. When your uncle finds out he will have both of us thrown into the dungeon."
I shrugged, forcing him to flap off me and land on the sail. "That's not a problem. Uncle has a cell for me down there. it's very comfortable."
"Ah yes, the famous Lena room. Wen were you down there last?"
I shooed Nigle off the sail so I could turn down the upcoming fork in the river. "I think I accidentally turned the Celerian ambassador into a phoenix. It wasn't such a disaster. He was immortal until they figured out how to turn him back."
"If I recall correctly, Celaria almost declared war on us because of your so called accident," Nigel hooted disdainfully reminding me that the cross-species transformation had been no accident.
Colgean Desert (VERY tentative title)
“It’s a desert
right?”
Jakknob laughed, a
small chuckle rippling through closed lips, humoring the human.
“You could say
that.” He paused. “But you shouldn’t. It’s a desertland.”
“And that makes a
difference how?”
“A desertland is
where boats land.” Rose could tell that Jakknob was actually trying to be
helpful, which made everything all the more confusing.
“Okay.” Rose took
off her glasses, and then resettled them onto her nose, hoping that would make
things clearer. “So there’s way there too?”
Liljini
returned from the bar sliding three Aquartic beers onto the table. Her
jewel-like eyes darted from Rose to Jakknob.
“She
still doesn’t get it?”
“No.
Now she thinks there’s water there.”
Liljini
managed to suppress her laughter, but
Rose could see her body quiver.
“The
desert is on the second floor, and the water is on the ground floor.” Jakknob
tried to explain one more time.
Rose
set down her beer. She wanted to have a clear mind for this conversation. “Wait
so it’s a building?”
Jakknob
sighed. “Rose you are an ambassador. How are you going to be able to negotiate
the treaty if you can’t even understand our homeland?”
Now
Rose was starting to get angry. “Well is that so inconceivable? We’re in a
building right now.”
She
had a point. Jakknob and Liljini had brought her to the Launchpad, a twelve
story building, for this briefing. It was the main link for those wishing to
travel between worlds. Rose figured that if you could travel from world to
world through a building, then why couldn’t a world itself be a building.
Liljini
studied Rose; taking in her soft peach skin, smooth long hair, and unblemished
face. She rubbed one hand along her own skin, more liquid metal than flesh, and
remembered that Rose was new, human were new, to the idea of other worlds.
While most species had known of the existence of other worlds for centuries,
humans had only just developed the technology to make the discovery. Now humans
were sending people from earth to the Launchpad, which was something of a
headquarters for the multiuniverse, to learn about these other cultures, and
ultimately travel to the other worlds.
Placing
her golden hand on top of Rose’s pale one, Liljini smiled at her.
“I
know you’re confused. But don’t worry. Our people don’t expect you to be an
expert on Colgea. They will be honored enough that you learned our language.”
Rose
cracked a small smile and sipped her beer. The process to become an ambassador
had been a long one, the most challenging part being to learn the Colgean
language. Now however, she was at her final briefing before she actually
traveled to the world she had studied about for so long.
Families and Fairytales
July 3, 2012
Dear Brian and Miriam,
I
don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing right now. At this point, I’m stuck in
a safe house. It’s actually pretty nice. “Safe house” would usually make me
think of some dinky shack. You know, the kind Mom and Dad used to take us to as
kids and call it a cottage? And it would always have strata of dust that an
archaeologist would love to excavate. And the shack would be stuck on this cliff
somewhere totally out of the way. Well ok, I am on a cliff. It took an hour to
get up the side and I even had to climb up with these metal pegs stuck into the
rock. But the safe house isn’t a cottage at all; it’s really more of a mansion with
all the trimmings: ballroom, a grand staircase (made out of marble of course)
and there are chandeliers everywhere.
There are
definitely a lot worse places I could be hiding while I’m on the run. The
bedroom I’m staying in right now is something every six-year-old girl dreams of
living in. The walls are a deep royal purple and the floor is covered in a
thick white rug. I’m lying on a four-poster bed, practically sinking into the
down comforter. Actually, it’s making it hard to write in this notebook, which
is the only thing I managed to grab before getting kicked out of the hotel. By
now, all my other stuff has probably been burned. I guess that’s a good thing,
we don’t want our enemies using my belongings to track me down. Anyway, I’m
going to try and send this letter to you when I’m done. A good journalist
always tells the story and you two are the only ones who will believe this
particular story.
Hopefully, I’ll
still be here when you get this letter and you can come and find me. Follow the
map I’ve sent, you’ll be able to figure it out. Once the three of us are
together I can’t tell you exactly what we’ll do, but at least we’ll be
together. We can track down Kyra at least, she owes us help, and some answers.
If I’m not here when you get my let, well, if we’ve learned something from all
of this its that we can’t expect anything to go as planned. Good luck wherever
you are right now and stay safe. I love you both so much.
Sarit
Three children kidnapped. Nope. Siblings Discover True Identity. Not
that one either. Children Traumatized as
Parents Go to Work for FBI. Definitely not. Writing headlines is, in my
opinion, harder than making them. I’d rather get straight to the story, to
telling something that will affect people. Not that I can really tell this
story. No one would believe me. But a good journalist always needs to be
practicing so I might as well start writing.
August
1, 2013
Going
on vacation is liberating. Not so much because you leave your normal life and
get a chance to relax, but because you can abandon your life completely. No one
knows who you are; you can almost try on a new persona, or, revert to an old
one. Or you can reveal to your three children that you’re part of the FBI,
which isn’t really the FBI, and force everyone to go on the run for their
lives.
No, I’m
getting ahead of myself. True, in creative writing they tell you that you can
write in any order you want as long as everything fits in the end. As a
journalist though, I can’t just patch the story together. I need an enticing
opening sentence and a quick outline of the story followed by details to bring
the reader in. So, let me backpedal.
July
2013, Cape Cod Massachusetts. “The Cape” as locals call it welcomes summer
tourists of all stripes every year. Its picturesque seaside towns and beaches
dot the peninsula and allow survivors of bitter Massachusetts’ winters to recuperate.
The Sagadah family parents Adam and Liora, and their three children Sarit,
Brian, and Miriam went down to West Yarmouth for what was supposed to be a
peaceful family vacation. During the duration of their stay however, they
managed to burn down their hotel, commit several robberies, and somehow stop a
rash of kidnappings in tandem with the local police.
I stopped typing and looked up at the screen to reread what
I had written. It was informational, interesting, and above all, caught a
reader’s attention. But how to continue? The story was complicated and I didn’t want to make my
family seem like the bad guys, because we weren’t. Mistakes had been made
though, and this story was one that needed to be written, if only so we didn’t
mess up again. Mom and Dad needed to remember this week, remember why telling
the truth is so important. So, where to go from here? There was a knock on my
door. I swiveled around in my desk chair to see Brian in the door frame, just as
I had only a month ago…
July 1, 2013
“Sarit, Mom
says to get downstairs and put your bag in the car. We’re leaving in twenty
minutes.”
I closed my
laptop. “I haven’t started packing yet, I thought I had an hour.”
“No but it
will take you an hour with the way you pack.” His dark brown eyes flicked to
the pajamas I was still wearing. “Sorry it will take you two hours. You still
have to get dressed.”
“I can move
quickly if I want to!”
“No you
can’t. You’re going to put on makeup and everything even though we’re just
going down to the Cape.”
Getting up
I ruffled his brown-black hair as I went to the bathroom. “Love the confidence
you have in me Bri.”
He smoothed his hair back into
place and pulled out his phone. “I’m going to time you.” He showed me the
stopwatch on his phone. Little brothers could be so annoying.
After brushing my teeth I did
the world’s quickest makeup application (Brian knew me well) and then went back
to my room. Shorts, four t-shirts, two bathing suites, sneakers, flip-flops,
sweatshirt, one nice dress. Yup, that was everything I needed for a long
weekend in Cape Cod. My laptop and notebook went into my backpack and I was
good to go. I hoisted my duffle onto my shoulder and started downstairs.
Miriam saw me coming out and
laughed. “Sarit, you’re still in your pajamas.”
Dropping my bags, I raced back
inside and pulled on some real clothes. Miriam followed me in.
“Can I borrow one of your
shirts?”
“Mir, they’re too big, they
won’t fit.”
“They do fit, just differently.”
I sighed and tossed her a turquoise and gray hooded shirt. “Here’s your
favorite one.”
Miriam smiled and pulled it over
her head.
I walked over to her and smushed
her cheeks together. “Love you goof.”
She backed away. “No touchy.”
I kissed her forehead. “You’re
my baby sister, I’m allowed to.”
“Sarit! Miriam!” Brian’s voice
rang up the stairs. “Dad says come down now!”
We looked at each other,
laughed, and sprinted downstairs.
Out in the driveway Dad was
loading the car, Mom was on the phone, and Brian had predictably decided to
kill time by shooting hoops. As I went over to the trunk I heard part of Mom’s
conversation.
“No Kyra. We haven’t left yet.”
She was talking to her sister. Aunt Kyra always met us at the Cape when we
went.
There was a pause, then “Kyra
let it be!” The words erupted sharp and abrupt.
A thump reverberated on the
pavement and I saw Brian race down the driveway after the ball.
Mom seemed to remember that we
were all listening and lowered her voice.
Soundlessly, I tossed my bag
into the trunk and drifted closer to Mom.
“No I haven’t told them yet.”
She frowned. “I know they’re in danger.” Uncharacteristically, she began to
bite her lip. “I know the renegades are coming, hopefully Adam and I can leave
on a day trip, deal with them, and come back without the kids knowing.”
Suddenly, she noticed me
eavesdropping and hung up. “Sarit go inside and get the cooler please.”
I took my time getting the
cooler, trying to puzzle out what I had just heard. Who was the “they” that was
in danger? And renegades. I thought that word was something only history
textbook authors used. The only thing I was sure about was that Mom was scared.
That, more than anything else worried me.
August 1, 2013
Brian came
in uninvited and sat on my bed. He always does it, and I’ve given up trying to
stop him.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing.”
“Writing what?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to share.
Writing this story was for me, it was my perspective on something that had
rearranged our family.
“Just practicing.”
“You still planning on being a
journalist?” Brian got off my bed and moved to stand by my dresser. He began to
play with my knick-knacks. Recent life-changing experiences or no, some things
never change.
“Yeah writing is what I love.”
“Even after everything that’s
happened?”
“Especially because of it. Why,
have you decided to go into the family business?”
Brian ignored me and came to
stand over my shoulder. He can never stay still for too long, he has to keep
shifting, hovering, always doing something. I could feel his eyes reading my
article draft.
“This isn’t just for practice is
it.”
“Not really.”
“What are you going to do with
it?”
“Not sure yet.”
“It’s not finished yet is it?”
“No.”
“So what comes next?”
I paused, running my fingers
over the keyboard, hoping my thoughts would somehow flow through my fingers and
write the story for me. Reaching a decision I typed:
The kidnappings, which had
been plaguing Cape Cod residents for almost a year were actually part of a
larger plan. The perpetrators had in fact been holding a grudge against Adam
and Liora Sagadah for years. The unfortunate side effect of this feud was
that they had unwittingly brought their children into the argument.
I tipped my chair back so Brian
could see the screen better. “What do you think?”
“It’s good. You should write
more about you, Miriam, and me though. Tell about when we first thought
something might be wrong.”
I grabbed my pen and notebook
and started scrawling down ideas. “You and Miriam didn’t think there was
anything wrong at first.”
“Yeah we did.”
I shook my head, still half absorbed in my thoughts.
“No. In the beginning, I was the only one who was worried…”
July 1, 2013
“Mom, where
do you want this?” I held up the green cooler with our lunch in it.
“Huh?” She
looked up form her phone keyboard. I wondered who she was texting. “Oh just
toss it in the middle of the car.”
I did,
almost hitting Miriam.
“Mir, why are
you already in here?”
“I got
tired of waiting for everyone else to be ready.”
“You might
be in here a while.”
“That’s
fine.”
“Hey.” I
leaned in to whisper to her. “Have you noticed anything strange about Mom?”
She shook
her long, brown curls. “Nope. She seems normal.”
“Are you
sure? She was yelling at Aunt Kyra over the phone earlier.”
“Mom and
Aunt Kyra argue. They’re sisters.”
“No. We
argue because we’re 18 and 14. They tease each other, or maybe bicker. This
time Mom was yelling. She actually sounded a bit scared.”
Mom’s never
scared. Not even at the hospital when she’s operating.” Mom was one of the
leading cardiac surgeons in the Boston area. Even when she was trying to save a
person from dying, she never broke a sweat.
“I know,
that’s why this is so strange.”
“Sarit!
Miriam!”
“In the car
Dad.”
Dad’s bald
head popped into the car followed by his torso. “You two ready to go?”
“Dad, we’re
the ones in the car.”
He tapped
me on the head. “Don’t be fresh.” He raised his voice over the renewed thump of
the basketball. “Brian! Liora! Get in the car, we’re leaving!”
He
extracted himself from the car and walked around towards the driver’s seat.
Before
getting in the back seat I told Miriam, “Just let me know if you notice
anything okay?”
We pulled
out of the driveway and started toward I-95 South. Out of the corner of my eye
I saw a small black car pull into our driveway.
“Dad,
someone just drove up to the house.”
Through the
rear view mirror I saw the wrinkles around Dad’s eyes deepen. “They probably got
lost and are turning around. See? The car’s gone already.”
The car had
left the driveway but I thought I saw it following us now. I decided not to
mention it though; I wasn’t sure what Dad would say. And if I did get an
answer, it might not be a truthful one.
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