Personal Literature

“Where do guys want to eat?”

“What’s around here?”

“I don’t know, an Olive Garden, I think.”

“What about Applebees?”

“I like that place.”

“I’ll drive you guys, I’ve got plenty of seats,” my coach said.

I strained my ears to listen to the announcer as I blocked out my team.  My age group was being called and I didn’t want to miss my name being announced for the top 5.

All my teammates were older than me and they stayed during my session to help despite having competed already.  It was nice to have the extra support from them.  I just wish their support endured through the awards ceremony.

I always try to do my best in my routines and once the competition is over, I just have to hope I did well enough against my peers to come home with a ribbon or medal.  But I was anxious I wouldn’t be able to hear my name over my teammates.

I don’t remember how I did at this particular meet or where I placed but I do remember walking out of the venue with a good amount of medals draped around my neck.  I was a level 7 gymnast at the age of 11.

But the thing I remember most was how my teammates waved to me while speeding away in my coach’s van.

I walked out of the building with my parents at either side of me.  My teammates’ parents were right behind us, assuming my fellow gymnasts were not that far.  I was overjoyed by how well I performed since I was rewarded a handful of shiny medals.  I was giving my parents a play-by-play of my impressions during my routines.

We were walking to our car when a dark van rolled by us as a window lowered.  I could see every one of my teammates in the van.  They stuck their faces into view as they reached their arms out the window to wave.  “Bye, Denzlee!” they jeered, almost taunting me for no good reason.  The window was rolled back up as the van sped out the parking lot.

I stood there watching the van leave, stunned a little.  Where were they going?  Why weren’t they with their parents?  And why wasn’t I invited to join them?

All of a sudden, the medals hanging around my neck didn’t feel so special anymore.  I didn’t feel special anymore.  I felt singled out and unwanted.

I was the only one who didn’t tag along with my team to whatever restaurant they went to.  I was not asked if I wanted to join.  My parents weren’t asked for permission either.  The plans somehow eluded me.

My parents were told by another parent on the team that her daughter was going to dinner with our coach.  Their initial thought was that we would all meet up later at some place.  Next thing we knew, my whole team took off in my coach’s car without saying a word.

I might have remembered the following practice afterwards.  There might have been inside jokes my teammates shared and they would stop to point out, “Denzlee wasn’t there; she wouldn’t understand.”  I might have been bombarded with questions I didn’t have the answer to.  “Why didn’t you come with us?”  I didn’t know you guys had plans.  “Where were you when we went to dinner?”  I was with my parents.  And the ever likely excuse they probably blurted: “We forgot about you.”

To this day, I still question why they had to make sure I knew I was being excluded.  They knew I was present and they knew I wanted nothing more than to be accepted into this group of people I looked up to.  So why did they think it was okay to hurt my feelings?

I couldn’t tell you what the happiest day of my life would be.  There’s been so many good memories I’ve made and so many amazing things I’ve experienced.  Yet, with all those things from my past, I can’t draw up a good enough event that made a day more joyful, memorable, or cherished than the other ones.  Could it have been every time I went to Disneyland or any other amusement park?  Was it when I came back to gymnastics practice after my old coach left and was greeted by a different coach who helped me trust a coach again?  Was it when I went to the Owl City concert with my brother?  Was it when I retired from the sport I loved knowing I accomplished more than I could ever imagine in ways I didn’t expect as well as graduating from high school on the same day?  I might have mentioned any one of those moments but not anymore.

The thing is, I never was truly content in any of those events.  There was something in the back of my mind that told me, “I hate this, this means nothing.”  I never realized at the moment that this was true.

I was an extremely shy and insecure individual.  I felt like a nobody hoping to one day be a somebody yet without the intrusive acknowledgement.  No one else cared about me because I didn’t let anyone get close enough to care.  I was mortified by people and plagued with social anxiety.  I was terminally introverted.  I showed no emotion because I didn’t want to feel anything, let alone have others see my emotions or any vulnerable side of me.

I  decided to take the biggest leap of faith I knew felt right by attending Snow College.  It was far away from home with a highway full of terrifying Utah drivers in between.  I could finally live on my own and do whatever I wanted.  Most importantly, I could mature into a responsible young adult on my own without any old sports, friends, or family interfering.  Everything from housing to courses worked out perfectly.  The rest was up to me to make this the greatest college experience.  After all, I only had one chance to experience life in Ephraim.

It took a while to acclimate to this new environment and what I wanted from it.  I was experimenting with what I could fill my time with and what things were in my comfort zone.  My first time testing my limits was when I tagged along with some of my roommates and their friends to go swing dancing at the beginning of the year.  I only knew my two roommates best, and even then I barely knew them.  They were the party-goers so they always had different people over at our apartment.  I would emerge from my room to start making dinner and there were people in our living room at least every other night.  The faces were always new, but sometimes I would recognize one or two that I had seen a night prior.  It was like they had a massive pool of friends and they hit the shuffle button to see which 5 or 6 friends they’d hang out with.

At the activity, my roommates were constantly disappearing to meet up with other people while I was left behind all alone.  I was fighting to keep up with them and roll with the punches after all the people they introduced me to, almost expecting me to already know these people, too.  It was dark outside and felt miles away from the comfort of my apartment bedroom.  I would look out beyond the barn and see sparse city lights far in the distance with a vast empty field in between.  It really did feel like the middle of nowhere surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces in the dim lighting that I couldn’t make out who was who.  Was this someone I had already seen tonight or was it someone new?

At times I would look around to take in the view.  A desolate hill behind the barn where lush green grass bathed in the moonlight beckoned me to sit down away from the loud music and chatter.  A decorative awning was wrapped delicately with little LEDs giving a warm glow to the atmosphere.  A bush full of aesthetic flowers was behind that.  A small scene that was only put together to be a backdrop for students’ pictures.  My inner thoughts were telling me to escape and go back to my solitude of singularity.  But that wasn’t the reason  as to why I was out with my roommates.

I escaped my daydreaming and resumed back to the present moment with my friends, who somehow left me behind.  I promised myself I would stick to their side the whole night and now I’ve lost them in the sea of people I don’t know.  I feigned a relaxed smile as I weaved between groups until I found them.  There they were talking and laughing amongst another group of people I hadn’t seen yet that they would introduce me to.  I could only think of one thing: how could they live such fast lifestyles to make friends with anybody and everybody?

I had lived such a different life back home.  I had a very small selection of friends I would see only for different occasions.  I had friends I would only see during a certain class, other friends I would eat lunch with, friends who were like my sisters only at practice, and friends I would only see in organizations outside of school.  My friend groups would hardly intermingle.  They stayed where they were.  Even though they were great people to be around, I only saw them in certain circumstances because I would get so socially drained from being around people in general no matter how close we were.  Being extremely introverted, it would take days for me to fully recover and be ready to get back out for another social outing.

The same still applied when I moved down here at first.  Except I kept pushing my social boundaries.  I was brave for some time and decided to go to school events all on my own and make friends there.  I couldn’t wait for people to come with me so I had someone to fall back on.  I wouldn’t be scared of being lonely.  I couldn’t tell you when exactly something inside me changed or if one day I told myself I wouldn’t deal with fear anymore but after ruminating on my goals to be more social, I was able to work through that social anxiety to where it doesn’t hinder my actions anymore.  Near the beginning of the school year, there was an ice cream social Snow College was hosting.  My roommates were all busy so I decided to check it out on my own.  It was not easy for me to get myself out of my room but once I was set on that choice, I just had to keep going.  That decision being all or nothing was tumultuous in my head.  If worse comes to worse, I get dessert then come back to my apartment with no harm done.  The whole way while I was walking to the plaza, I thought that what I was doing could not be happening.  What caused me to think I could do this?  I would have never done anything like this not a couple months ago.  I meandered through people to get an ice cream sandwich but I felt I wasn’t satisfied.  I mean, I came all this way and put in all this effort to just get an ice cream bar?  I did come to meet people, the ice cream was an excuse to do so.  I looked around and noticed a girl off to the side sitting on her own.  She sat on the concrete slabs eating the ice cream watching all the others interact.  I could tell there was a longing in her eyes that said she wanted the same thing but didn’t know how.  My body turned in her direction and one foot was placed in front of the other until I walked up to her.  Inside my brain, I was scrambling with what I ought to say.  Possible opening questions popped into my mind with the hope of my budding ability to hold and keep a conversation.  With a warm smile, I introduced myself.  I felt very natural and portrayed a very warm, kind, and calm mannerism.  However, on the inside I was jittery and nervous from disbelief.  I still could not believe what was going on with me.  I never was the initiator unless I felt otherworldly prompted to be so.  We made small talk, exchanged numbers, and walked away together.  I spotted my roommates in a crowd and they spotted me as well.  We waved and I kept walking with my new friend.

Although we fell out of touch after the social, I would still walk by her on my way to class and wave.  Our friendship never really flourished into anything other than passing hellos that eventually faded.  But after I made a friend at the ice cream social, I truly felt invincible.  My confidence was the thing that truly flourished!  That was a significant event that led my social life to snowball into something immaculate.  I feel the traits from my last life I had been flipped.  I used to shy away from social outings, now I would love nothing more than to be involved.  I would always wait for someone to come up to me, now I strike up greetings and conversations wherever I go.  I used to hate the boring activities that people would waste their time with, now I enjoy those simple activities like board games, McDonald’s runs, and late night chats that bring my friends together.  I’m not really introverted anymore.  I realized that with the right people, I build off their energy so much so that I don’t get fatigued afterwards anymore.  Just this basic realization makes the day the greatest day ever and it only makes sense knowing where I had come from–this aspect of my life now was never a part of my life before.

There’s not one specific day in my life that was the best, but there is one aspect that makes any day the best, in my opinion.  The confidence I now have in who I am as an individual as well as my abilities to be comfortable around people makes any day brighter.

Trampolines were never

meant to be always

Stagnant; they were meant

to keep moving–

up and down, stretch,

compress and decompress,

to be worn through, and

broken after years

of wear and tear.

Equipment intended to

be used for

the merit of others.

Sometimes tramps were meant

to stay still for the

longest time, sit in

nature’s dust till

seasons changed and

wait for the winter

storm to clear,

until the sunshine melted

the bitter cold away

from the dark canvas–

a long rest

much needed.

During trying times

of heat,

material shifted

in order to support

the weight that somehow

became manageable.

People on and off,

Roughhousing,

dominating control,

and having their own

fun.  Yet the apparatus–

although taken for granted–

waits out the commotion,

accepting the good with

the bad, still grateful to be

of any kind of service.

Springing clips assist

the canvas by holding

the bulk of the tramp’s

integrity together to

a circular frame;

circular where neither the

beginning nor end

was discerned,

seemingly going forever

in the same pattern it

always has.

Constantly moving,

in what direction,

it may not matter

but it might;

as long as it keeps

going.

Don’t ever take my goodbyes for granted.

I know we see each other every day now but we don’t live in the same house anymore.  Remember when I was younger and goodbyes were the most hurtful thing?  When I moved away, you realized how much you took my company for granted.  Except now when I’m not so far away, saying goodbye has become easier.

Don’t take my goodbyes for granted because when I leave at night, I’m not certain if we’ll see each other again the next morning.  I don’t ever want our goodbyes to be forgetful, remorseful, or lighthearted.  If it’d be the last time we see each other, I’d want it to be on a good note.  And when it’s time for me to go back home, I want you to understand that I’ll be where I belong since I’ve moved on and grew up.  And, most importantly, I want you to remember me like how you love me.

So, please, don’t take my goodbyes for granted.

Hey, it’s been a while since we saw each other last.  Although, it doesn’t seem that long ago because in my mind you’ve never left.  Not one day has gone by without you occupying some part of my brain.  After the last time we saw each other, you annoyingly preserved space in my head.  You filled the cracks of my thoughts.  When I didn’t have anything else to think about, you were always there to seal that gap.  I’ve hated how often you were on my mind but the more I tried to push you away, the more you were there at the forefront of my imagination.  You weren’t sitting at the station waiting for the train of thought to stop so you could hop on.  Rather, I was the passenger and you were the conductor taking me down memory lane whenever you got the chance.  And the worst part: I eagerly let you give me a tour of my own memories.  I would point to my favorite scenes and you’d take me there for a closer look.  Felt like we could both appreciate those times all over again with a new perspective from the time that has passed.  Once I would get embarrassed about my previous actions I can only wish to undo, I’d then start to wonder about the future.  The vast frontier opened my imagination to many possibilities that most likely won’t ever come to fruition.  And yet I was shown as much as my creativity could conjure.  I’m not sure which it was on the train of thought that let me explore the expanse of the future: me or you.  I’d like to imagine it wasn’t just me—that’s a very simple thing to do in the universe I live in, which is the world inside my head.  I would always question whether you feel the same as me or not.  I’d trick myself into believing that you definitely don’t care about me like how I care about you so then, if it were actually true, I wouldn’t feel disappointed.  You have unknowingly bombarded me psychologically all this time.  Good luck trying to get rid of me after I’ve been trying to get rid of you from my head.  I’m afraid we’re here to stay together from now on.

She lay in her bed, staring blankly at the chipped ceiling. She tapped her finger on the covers, her hand itching to grab her phone that sat on her nightstand. She wanted to reach out to them all day but never felt like it. Now she lay awake and would finally be able to fall asleep after she did. She rolled to her side and picked up her phone. The brightly lit screen blinded her, the digital clock showing it was almost one in the morning.

She remembered them talking and laughing with her in the living room at midnight when they should have gone to bed hours earlier. It was difficult to retire for the night when they were sharing stories that made each other double over in laughing fits. The lack of sleep was worth it to her.

"Hey! Srry its late Couldnt sleep cuz i was thinkin bout u How r u? Hows life treatin u?"

She knew she wouldn't get an immediate response. She hoped they were getting the sleep they deserved.

The next morning, she pulled out from her outdated fridge leftover rice pudding she made the night before. She had come home from work pining to have done more at her job. She used her unexpended energy to make herself her favorite treat as a pick-me-up. A treat she used to love sharing.

She remembered waiting for them to come back, keeping the pot of rice pudding warm. They wanted to watch a movie from their tiny projector that evening. She thought it'd be fun to surprise them with dessert. They loved her rice pudding recipe, so much so they ate every last grain she had prepared. From then on, she would surprise them randomly with it. There didn't need to be an excuse to have dessert.

Later that night, she settled in to watch a show on her phone, such a miniscule screen she barely could see anything on, yet it held her world in it.

The next day, she shook hands with her boss over a promotion. She promised she would do her best to keep engaging in the business while her boss promised their support. A promise that not only took a verbal commitment, but one that was written and signed in contract.

She remembered making a similar promise to them. No shaking of hands, no papers to sign, but a strong verbal commitment she wished took the same protocols. Their words started to fizzle with time. Only she remembered their promise.

The next morning, she was woken by a text. "Oh haha! Life is going good It's busy How bout you?"

She eagerly typed back, "Its not as fun without u but im managing lol I just got a promo at my job Guess wat i made the other day? Rice pudding Made me think of u Whats new with u? R u still workin at the same place? U moved into a new apartment a couple weeks ago, right? How r u likin that?"

That night, she barely had enough in her to make herself dinner. She didn't want to cook on her stained oven or eat in her small, confining kitchen, yet she did it all anyway. She was loading leftovers into a container when she got another text. It read, "Oh cool! Good for you! Work is the same as ever but my new apartment is nice I'm really liking it here"

She texted back before it got too late, "Thats good ur likin it! The place seems real nice Im glad u got it! My place is startin to feel stuffy so i think i need to move soon haha!"

A couple moments after she sent her text, she received, "Change can be good sometimes"

"True But idk where id move to Prolly just somewhere nearby"

"You did just get a promotion so you really could move"

"Yea! Itd have to be later cuz i have a lot of stuff to pack up Haha!"

"I'm sure you'll make it happen if you want"

"Im sure i will The thing is the thought has crossed my mind but i never thought of actually doing it Ill start looking into it tomorrow"

"That would be a good start Do whatever you feel is right"

"Do you know of any good websites that can help me look for a place? I wish i knew of places that are open but i don't have the slightest idea"

"I'm not aware of any Sorry"

"That's okay. I'll find some. Pretty sure I might stumble across some on my own. Besides, a change of pace would be good for me."

"Good luck with the house hunting"

She put her phone down before seeing the new text coming in. She closed her eyes, feeling an uneasy sense of relief. A wave of determination crossed her, mulling over the newly formed pit in her heart. She felt assured to leave this scene behind her and look for something new. Something that would benefit her. Something that wouldn't feel like a weight on her back that for some reason she alone had to carry.

all characters and scenarios are fictitious; not based on real people or events

Bitter morning air stung the large moose’s nose.  The early day would have been more tolerable if there was powdery snow falling from the sky but instead there were sharp icicles dangling from the branches and crunchy layers of snow piled on the ground.  It proved difficult for the moose to trudge through but he managed.

The moose suddenly froze in his tracks, flicking his small floppy ears.  He sensed he was being watched.  He sniffed the air and a flood of panic overcame him.  He couldn’t see the danger yet but knew he had to get out of such a vulnerable area.  He trotted down the mountain towards where hopefully a cave resided.  He stepped into a clearing between the trees making a big mistake because that’s when he saw them: a pack of ferocious wolves lurking around him.  Their yellow eyes pierced him.  The moose had the thought of turning back around to the direction he came but that would open himself to an attack.  He stood his ground and stared back at the wild dogs without saying a word.  A puff of warm air rose from the moose’s large nostrils.

A gray wolf entered the clearing facing the moose straight on.  “Well, what have we here?” it asked.

A brown wolf stepped into the clearing on the moose’s side as it added, “Seems like we have lone prey if you ask me.”

A white wolf stepped close behind the first one.  “This big one will last us for the rest of the winter!  We wouldn’t even have to hunt for dinners anymore!”

“No,” a dark-furred fourth one on the other side of the moose said, “its meat would go bad after a week, it would be a complete waste of food.”

“But it will be a fun game taking this beast down,” the first wolf said.

The cornered moose could easily take down a wolf or two but he wasn’t sure he could take on a whole pack at once.  “Listen, eh, I don’t want any trouble–”

“Neither do we,” the fourth wolf said.  “Quick, clean, and no fighting.  Is that too much to ask for?”

The moose told the wolves, “Sorry, but I’m honestly not in the mood today so no, thanks.  I can guarantee I will be walking away with my life but I don’t want to hurt any of you, eh.”

“Really?”  The second wolf creeped closer to the large animal it was stalking.  “Such a large and lethal creature like you, a pacifist?”  All the other wolves laughed.  “It’s bad enough that you prefer to be all alone in your recluse.”

“You and your antisocial ways.  You think you can handle everything on your own, don’t you?  At least predators like us aren’t afraid to ask for help every now and then.”  The third wolf had a concerningly sly grin on its angular snout.  “Lonesome animals like you only care about one thing: yourselves!”

The first wolf sneered, “For as big as you are, you sure are a big dummy!”  The wolves howled in laughter.  The gray wolf reigned in the pack’s laughter.  He said to his wolf family, “Do you think a creature like that is worth our efforts?”  The wolves looked at each other sharing the same confused look.  “Let me ask you this: do you think a creature like that is worth spending another minute in our woods?”  The wolves fervently shook their heads.  “Then is this creature worth our efforts of getting rid of?”  The wolves snarled and howled.  The gray wolf cried, “Then let’s get him!”  The ringleader wolf fake pounced, sending the moose in a kicking frenzy.

The moose quickly turned and ran up the mountain as fast as he could.  He could hear one of the wolves calling to him, “We’ll give you a head start!”  He climbed the snowy hill until he heard the sound of pounding paws in the snow behind him.  The moose darted into the thick trees.  He weaved through branches and trunks in hopes to dissuade the pack.  He heard another wolf yell, “You’ll never throw us off!  We will catch you; you’re too slow!”

The moose ran into another small clearing where a wolf must have passed him to cut him off among the trees.  The ravenous dog jumped in front of the moose.  The moose skidded to a stop, flinging flakes of snow at the wolf.  The wild dog shook off the snow giving the moose enough time to catch his breath.  The three other wolves caught up and positioned themselves around the moose, blocking the large animal in every direction.  The wolves closed in on the moose nipping at his ankles.

Tired, yet ever so determined, the moose thrashed his hooves and flailed his legs in some awkward dance.  A wolf jumped on his hindquarters and began gnawing at the moose’s hip.  The moose swung its large head towards his back striking the wolf in its ribs.  It yelped as it leaped off.

The moose’s kicks eventually became less sporadic and more lethargic.  Before biting the moose’s knee, a wolf taunted, “Getting tired, sleepyhead?”  The moose reared its head in searing agony.

When the moose brought its head back, he saw the gray wolf with its rear in the air.  A snarl crinkled its snout as its beady yellow eyes were missile-locked on the moose.  The wolf launched itself towards the bulky animal, aiming for the throat.  Its jaw was wide open revealing sharp canine teeth intending to sink into the moose’s flesh.  The moose lowered his head and caught the big dog in the dish of his antlers.  With the last of his strength, the moose tossed the wolf off to the side, the wolf’s body smacking against a tree.  The moose kicked one last time to hurl the wolf off his leg and ended up hitting another’s nose.  The last wolf came around to the front of the moose and charged at him.  The moose leaned down and whacked the wolf, nicking the predator with his keen horns.  The wolves whimpered.  The moose took this opportunity to run away.  The black wolf whined, “This isn’t worth it.”  Three of the wolves tucked their tails and scampered away.

The gray wolf hobbled on its four legs as it tried shaking itself.  “Not without my prize!” the rogue wolf growled.  It took after the moose.

The moose quickly glanced behind him and to his shock found a wolf still chasing after him.  He decided to head up an extremely steep slope.  He sunk into the snow with each step, the snow reaching his knees.  He kept lifting his legs high above the snow as he ascended to the top of the peak.  Once he reached the top, there was nowhere for him to go anymore.  There was a harsh dropdown with just a shallow ledge and loose rock below the whole way down.

The wolf behind him clawed through the deep snow and jumped at the moose, claws outstretched.  The moose simply swerved to the side to dodge the wolf’s attack.  The wolf went sailing over the peak.  The moose looked over the edge and found the wolf clinging to the side of the mountain.  The vicious animal frantically scratched at the dirt and cried helplessly.  Each time it would lock its claws in the face of the mountain, dirt crumbled away, rolling down the long hill.  The wolf looked up to call out for help but that’s when he saw the moose turn and walk away.  The wolf barked in frustration.  “Guess this is what I get,” he solemnly whined.

The wolf heard rocks scatter to the side of him.  He looked over and saw the moose clumsily yet, astonishingly, firmly traverse the rocky decline.  A loose step slipped up the moose but he quickly found his footing again.  The moose slowly made it over to the thin ledge.  The ledge was barely wide enough to hold one of his hooves so he stacked his feet in a line on the ground.  The moose shuffled to where the wolf was hanging on for dear life.  At one point, the moose miscalculated where the ledge would be and one of his hind hooves missed the step.  Despite having to pull himself back onto the narrow ledge, he did not fall the rest of the way.

The moose dipped his head underneath the wolf’s back legs.  “Stand on my head,” the moose instructed.  The wolf questioned him so he said it again.  The wolf placed his paws in the moose’s bowl-like antlers.  “I’m going to lift you up outta here.”  The moose slowly lifted his head.  “You tell me when you can get up, eh?”

“Almost!” the wolf cheered, straining his body and arms to reach the edge of the mountain above.  The moose stretched his neck more.  The wolf’s paws sufficiently gripped the snowy earth and pulled himself up, scrambling to get to adequate ground.  The moose sputtered when dirt fell on his face.

The wolf put all its paws on solid ground feeling at ease once again.  He felt the snow surround his legs then settled with a sigh.  The wolf pranced away from the cliff.  Then he remembered the moose and froze.  He turned his ears to the cliff to hear where the moose hopefully still was.  It was silent.  Too silent.  The wolf ran back to the cliff and cautiously looked down.  The moose was nowhere to be found.

A twig snapped behind the wolf.  The wild dog whirled around to see his rescuer emerge from a faint trail leading down the steep mountain.  The wolf confronted the moose, “How could you have saved me?”

The moose replied, “Oh, it wasn’t easy, eh.  But luckily there was this trail leading to the ledge I could stand on and lift you up.”

“No,” the wolf said.  “I mean, why did you save me instead of letting me fall?  I said some awful things about you.  You could have just let me get what I deserved instead of risking your life to save mine.”

“Oh, sorry,” the moose said, “didn’t know that’s what you meant.  You didn’t deserve to fall down the mountain—that fall would have killed ya!  Even though you did wish me harm, I still have compassion towards ya.  Not everything I think about is about me, eh.”

The wolf slowly nodded his head.  “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, I’m sorry, eh.  I’m sorry I present myself in a way that makes you think that’s how I am.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” the wolf consoled.  The two animals headed down the mountain.  The wolf turned then stopped.  He looked sincerely at the moose, his yellow eyes searching for something in the moose’s brown ones.  “Thanks,” was all the wolf said before running to find the rest of his pack.

“You betcha.”  The moose smiled.

I stepped out of the bright space teleporting me to my destination.  My once bare feet now encased in flat sneakers, stomped down onto glistening pavement.  The bitter cold nipped my skin and the smell of car exhaust filled my lungs.  The warm sunshine was blocked by an intimidating building in front of me.  I looked up and read “Coppersville High School”.  I heavily sighed, both in despair and for courage.  I gathered my wits as I marched inside the school.  I was meant to fulfill a mission.  “Please, let me be an answer to someone’s prayer,” I mumbled under my breath.

I opened the main doors to be welcomed by the hum and chatter of students in the commons area enjoying their in-between break from classes.  The sound brought back my own memories I was fond of and others I repressed.  I said to no one in particular, “I can’t believe I’d make it back to one of these places again.  At least, hopefully, this should be quite easy.”  In the open room, there were obvious groups of friends hanging out together: the freshman football team throwing a ball back and forth to each other, members of the drill team taking up their space as they talked, various groups of science lovers, the music writers, and the neutral groups of friends where many types of people were included.  I scanned the edges and corners for those lone individuals but it seemed like everybody had someone to enjoy their time with.  There were some people who briskly walked through to get to their next class without stopping for anyone.  They seemed like they were on a mission, too.

I meandered between huddles of people making my way to deserted halls.  As empty as these corridors were, someone was bound to show up…right?

The school bell rang and that’s when all the students flooded through.  They came from behind me and carried their bustle with them.  Kids went around me, splitting up their group then rejoining in front of me.  I tried to follow the crowd but didn’t know where to go.  In a matter of a few short minutes, the hallway went silent again.  Classroom doors I hadn’t realized were open got pulled shut.  I stood in the middle of the hall, still not sure what I should be doing.  Where am I supposed to go?  I waited for something to answer.  Nothing.

I made the decision to pick up my legs and start moving.  I’d find a place to be even if nothing beckoned me.  I passed a classroom that hadn’t yet closed its door.  I peered inside.  There were a handful of students scattered at the desks.  There was one kid in the back corner separated from everyone else.  I debated a while before entering.  I could slip in without anyone noticing since it looked like the lecture hadn’t started yet.  I was getting hopeful.  The door was open so it had to be a sign.

I snuck along the side of the classroom wall and sat near the back in front of the kid in the corner.  I didn’t realize I was given a backpack when I got here when I automatically set it down next to my chair.  I unzipped it and searched the contents inside.  Everything I needed–I think.  There were a slew of colored folders each labeled for different subjects.  I pulled out the blue one in front labeled “Biology”.  There was also a green lunch pail inside.  I didn’t bother opening it since I had faith that there was food inside.

The teacher sat up in her chair behind her desk and announced the start of class.  She began with reading off the names on her role.  I tried to pay attention to who she was calling out.  The kid behind me shouted a deep and low “here” when the teacher called Nathan.  I kept that insignificant detail to heart.

When the teacher was finished with role, she got up from behind her desk and stood at the front of the room.  “So yesterday we were talking about alleles, where traits can be dominant or recessive,” the teacher said, “and today we will use Punnett squares to exemplify these dominant traits.”  She grabbed a stack of papers from her desk and began passing them out to each student.  My heart thumped against my chest and I felt the blood drain from my face.  She wouldn’t know who I was and why I was sitting in her class.  In truth, I shouldn’t have even been here at school—my time is long gone for being a high school student!  I kept my head down and hoped she wouldn’t recognize that I wasn’t one of her students.  I set the biology folder on my desk to show that in some way, I am supposed to be here.  The teacher came by and placed a paper on my desk as if she was on autopilot then headed back to hers.  She didn’t seem to notice.  Good, that’s what I was hoping for.

I looked at the page.  I remembered doing this.  This wouldn’t be so bad.  I went to begin writing when I noticed I didn’t have any pencils.  What a cruel irony giving me everything I’d need throughout the day except a writing utensil.  This is just my moment!  I turned around to face Nathan, his face deeply concentrated doodling in his sketchbook.  I whispered, “Sorry, but do you have a pencil I can borrow?”  He looked up at me then dug in his backpack.  He pulled out a blue wooden pencil and handed it to me.  “Thank you!  What are you drawing?”

Nathan was kind and open enough to turn his sketchbook around for me to see it.  “It’s a griffon,” he whispered.  I was marveled at the intricate details he was able to etch on the page with a tiny point of graphite.

“It’s amazing!  Beautiful shading, too, might I add.”  Nathan was trying not to be abashed by my compliment.

The teacher began instructing us on how to complete the handout.  I turned back around in my seat and Nathan put his sketchbook away.  For the rest of the period, the class worked on filling out the paper.  We worked on questions together as a whole then on our own.  I would occasionally ask Nathan despite already knowing most of the material.  I was using any opportunity I could get to see how he interacted.  This could immensely help me because then I could get a feel of if this kid needed a prayer to be answered.  I would always show him my gratitude although I hoped I hadn’t overdone it.

The bell rang and I packed my things.  I strained to make sense of the schedule posted behind the teacher’s desk.  It was lunch hour now.  Perfect!  Before Nathan could walk out of the room before I did, I stopped him to give him back his pencil.  “Thank you for letting me borrow this.”

He smiled and put the pencil back in his bag.  “See ya.”  I saw him leave the room and sit at the end of the hall to pull out his sketchbook.  I was about to catch up to him then thought about it.  I watched him.  He was perfectly content drawing in his sketchbook for the whole lunch period.  He didn’t need anyone else keeping him company.  He was not scared to be lonely, and that’s not exactly who I’m looking for.  I turned in the direction of the cafeteria.

There were so many people sitting everywhere.  Seats were occupied at the tables and people were on the floor against the walls.  I scanned every face willing for someone to be alone with an empty spot next to them.  A thought blipped into my mind.  Of course the people I’m looking for aren’t here because everyone who's someone was here and those people had each other.

I wandered the halls and looked in empty rooms.  I eventually walked into the library and found a small classroom inside that welcomed students who wanted to read and eat their lunch.  There were four tables that could seat up to six people each.  There was a pair of friends at one table quietly talking whereas the other tables had one person per table, all of them diligently reading.  I randomly sat at the closest table.  I set everything down and sighed.  I delved into my lunch pail.  This day was honestly not at all how I expected it to be.  Not sure why I thought this would be easy.

The girl sitting at my table sighed.  It was an ever so quiet sound that it went undetected by everyone.  Except me.  I knew that sound.  I had made that sound so many times before.  I know the pain and frustration of being alone and alone with your thoughts.  I glanced up at her.  She wasn’t reading.  She didn’t even have a book in front of her to read.  This is her.  I could picture her in the solace of her bedroom crying out for help.  My jaw froze mid chew and my heart beat loudly inside my rib cage.  I was meant to talk to her.  But what do I say?

Luckily for me, a group of boys barged into the library outside the classroom disrupting the quiet.  Both of us turned our heads in that direction.  We then looked at each other with the same expression.  I couldn’t help but giggle.  “Boys,” I jokingly scoffed and rolled my eyes.

The girl rolled her eyes and said, “I know, right?”  She then went back to focusing on her food.

I leaned over and kindly asked, “What is your name?”

The girl replied, “Angelina.  What’s yours?”

I had to quickly think of what I should respond with.  Who was I?  I know who I am but not in a way she would comprehend.  I hadn’t gone by my old name in a long time.  “Angelina, nice to meet you.  My name’s Gabby.  Do you eat in the library often?”

“Now I do.  Ever since the new trimester, I’m the only one out of my friends who stayed with our old lunch schedule, everyone else switched to the other schedule.  All my friends ditched me.”

“I know how that feels!”

“What about you?  Did you have friends ditch you?”

I clicked my tongue.  “The opposite, actually.  I ditched my friends.  Let’s just say our time was cut short.”

Angelina nodded.  “Kinda like a bad-group-of-friends situation?”  I nodded, glad she would be willing to understand.  “Yeah, I’m not sure if my friends mean well.  Pretty sure they have their own group chat without me.  Not sure why.  I guess I’m that kind of person you easily forget is around.  I’m the one who walks behind the two other friends on the sidewalk.”  She forced a pained smile.  She continued and I patiently listened.  “If it weren’t for my quiet ways, I'm pretty sure they’d have schemes to get me booted from their circle—if they don’t already!  I didn’t realize I could have the potential of being such a horrible person.”  She nervously laughed then paused, reevaluating the things she said.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to share so much and I’m not sure why I said all that.”

I laughed.  “That’s perfectly okay!  I am a judgment-free zone.  If it means anything, I totally have felt that same way with some of my friends in the past, too.”  Angelina processed my words and my comfort.  I quickly changed the subject.  “Not including being around bad friends, obviously, what do you like to do?”  I then began to ask her series of small-talk questions to get to know her better.  Over the duration of the conversation, I learned that she was a junior hoping to study animal sciences.  She comes from a small family joined to a large family after her mom remarried.  I learned about her favorite hobbies, foods, colors, and activities.  She told me about her schedule and all her stresses with each class.  She mentioned that her birthday was coming up very soon and her hopes for it.  I asked questions then let her talk about herself while I intently listened.  She may not have been consciously aware of it herself, but I noticed her posture change as she talked.  Her shoulders lowered from her ears and she actually started to sit taller in the chair.  I loved every moment and I hope she had a good time talking about her accomplishments and complaints to someone else for once.  It was clear she hadn’t confided in someone for a really long time.

Time surely does go by quicker when you’re doing something you enjoy.  Before either of us knew it, the bell rang yet again.  “You said your next class was math?”  So I walked with her to her class then we had to split up.  “It was nice talking with you.”

“It was nice to meet you, Gabby.  And thank you for listening to me.  Didn’t know I could be such a talker!”  Angelina laughed.  “Is it okay if I eat with you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely!  You’re welcome to any day, every day!”  We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

Day after day, I would come to the school during the lunch hour just to spend time with Angelina.  Our friendship grew as did Angelina’s confidence.  We hung out outside of school together and those were the highlights of my journey.  I took her to the arcades and she invited me to join her and her family at the local play.  When it was her birthday, I surprised her at school with a balloon and a gift she said she always wanted.  I tried introducing her to others I had met along my way in hopes these people would be good friends to her.  I was so pleased to have seen her talking and laughing with other people outside of her classes.  It was when she confessed to me that she was having trouble with a boy she had a crush on that touched me in a way I couldn’t explain.  She trusted me the most to confide about her crush.  She was looking for my advice–not her parents’ advice, nor any of her siblings’, nor any of her other friends’.  She even made mention how she doesn’t feel as comfortable sharing this with anyone else she’s close with.  She made a close confidant in me, and more importantly a friend.  I gave her the advice that life was too short to be nervous.  Believe me, I would know.  Life is all about making mistakes and there will be plenty made.  The next day she was so excited to tell me the news that her crush asked her to prom.  I celebrated with her, if not more than her.  I didn’t know him or his friends but I knew they were good people and they would be kind to Angelina.  She told me every detail about her date the week following the school dance.  I was so happy for her!  It was very rewarding to see this shy and timid girl blossom into a fearless and sociable girl.  She turned into everything I never had the chance to.  I wouldn’t want it any other way.  My mission was complete.

It was a very sad day to tell her goodbye.  It was the last day of school before summer and I told her I would be gone for a long time.  I had tedious business to attend to so I wouldn’t be able to see her.  I did promise her that I would come back to check on how she’s doing.

The time between when I saw her last felt so long but in the same breath it came much sooner than I thought.  There I was at her doorstep.  I rang the doorbell and patiently waited.  After a while, Angelina opened the door.  We both squealed, happy to see each other after all this time–as girls do.  We gave each other a hug and she let me inside.  “It’s good to see you, Gabby!  How are you?” Angelina asked.

“I’m doing so good!  How are you?  I bet you’ve had quite the eventful time while I was away!”

“Yes, I did!  I’ve been doing so great and I’ve turned into quite the social butterfly,” she explained to me.  “I can’t wait for you to meet my friends!  I have friends of my own, can you believe it?!  Sometimes even I don’t believe it!”  She took me to the living room where an unexpected number of people were gathered.  A few I recognized from a while ago when I introduced them to Angelina and more of them I hadn’t seen before.

Angelina planned for us to play card games.  We played a few rounds and just ended up chatting.  There were points at the beginning of the conversation where I shared my input but the more they talked, the more I sat back and observed.  I observed their unique quirks and qualities, their dynamics with each other, and how Angelina was interacting with them.  She looked so happy to be around so many people in her home.  Such a drastic difference from when I first saw her eating all alone at school.  She almost transformed into a completely different person.  Everything that I’ve done throughout my past life and even throughout my mission felt like nothing.  The only thing that I felt mattered in this moment was that Angelina was happy.  She was secure with who she was now because she was surrounded by people that cared about her.  Again, she became what I could not.

I felt satisfied.  I felt satisfied that Angelina felt content.  My mission was truly over.  The feeling was bittersweet.  I was so sad to leave her yet felt okay to leave her in such good hands.  I looked at the group and felt I was looking from the outside in.  I was no longer a part of them.  I was fading away.  They were forgetting I was even there and I was okay with that.  I got up and walked out the room.  I looked back at Angelina and her friends goofing around one last time.  They didn’t notice I was leaving.  “Good luck with everything in your future…  Please don’t miss me…  I’m so proud of you, Angelina…  You were my favorite.”  The white space opened in front of me as I stepped through, wings finally sprouting from my back.  You did it.  I did it.  No, Angelina did it.

* * *

“Gabrielle, you are being summoned.”  I grabbed my toga so as to not trip on the hem as I was gently whisked away from my circle of friends and followed the chaperone.  “Gabrielle,” he said, “I think it might be time.”  I thought back to my group of acquaintances I was just with.  How I envied what they had and I was so excited to join their ranks.  I wanted to be sent down again and receive the best reward offered.  After completing a successful mission, the highest honor is granted upon returning.  My acquaintances have all performed successful missions and have been granted that high honor.  I was just waiting for the right time to be sent down to fulfill my purpose with my gifts and talents.  I never really had the opportunity to use them before.  My time was short-lived.  But now that I have a better understanding of my talents, I am more than ready to put them to use and help others!

The chaperone escorted me to an empty white room.  He closed the space behind me sealing all perception of walls or corners.  The room didn’t feel like a room; it had no end.  “I have been beckoned?”

“Yes.  You are here for a good purpose, Gabrielle.”  The voice that answered came from my head but it had its own cadence like it wasn’t one of my own thoughts.  I felt the presence of whoever was speaking with me although I couldn’t see them.

There was another unknown voice.  I couldn’t tell if it came from within me like the other voice or if it was from a different place entirely.  It seemed to have come from the corners of the room, like the source was invisible yet everywhere.  It was muffled, like I was hearing it from underwater.  Someone was crying?  The harsh inhale and the heaving exhales reverberated around me.  Someone was sobbing.  “I don’t want to be like this forever.  Please, let me be seen.  Please, let me be noticed!  PLEASE, let me have someone as a friend!  It hurts being so lonely surrounded by no one who cares about me!”  I wanted to cry with them.  The sound was so infectious it broke my heart.

“This is where your talents and gifts will be appreciated, Gabrielle,” the otherworldly voice assured, “someone is in need of you.  You have gone through tribulations the same as this particular individual has in your past life.  Your experiences will help you know what to do.  Your goal is to help this young individual, among multiple others, create long, lasting friendships.”

Finally, I thought, someone needs my help.  “How will I know I’m helping the right person?”

“You will know.  You will have everything you will need on this journey.  This individual needs you, Gabrielle.”

A circle opened revealing the place on Earth I needed to go.  I didn’t hesitate to start my mission.  I stepped out of the white space…

An original story by Denzlee Knudsen

all characters and scenarios are fictitious; not based on real people or events

Oh, no, I thought.  Not this school.  I had trouble myself keeping my head above water when I was a middle schooler and now I get to relive those experiences again.  I thought I had lived well past those days.

“Remember, Michael,” the omniscient voice told me, “your past experiences and wisdom will guide the soul who needs your help on this mission.”

I stepped through the opening becoming a teenager again.  I went to this very school years ago for my 7th and 8th grades.  Those were confusing times for me and my friendships.  I didn’t know who I wanted to be around.  But by the end of 8th grade, I figured out what kind of group I belonged to.  The friends I made were very supportive of me.  We enjoyed the same things, talked about the same subjects, and did the same activities.  I believed I was looking for someone like who I was.

I walked inside the school finding a bustling commotion of students getting from one class to another.  There were swift movements everywhere.  However, a large group of people standing still on the opposite side of the hall easily drew my attention.  They seemed to be talking, then everyone’s heads were simultaneously directed to a smaller member in the group.  There were scoffs and eye rolls amongst those listening.  The group unanimously turned and walked away from the kid.  The one who was left behind looked ashamed and defeated.  That was easy.  This was the one I would help.  He just hadn’t found the right group yet.

I started my journey over to the boy when he took off to follow the group he was just with.  They went into the cafeteria as did I.  The kid was closely nipping at the group’s heels wherever they went.  When they sat at a table, the kid was right there with them.  He was excluded, borderline shunned, from their conversation.  The kid either was oblivious or ignorant, but he was relentless!

I observed that group the whole time they were in the cafeteria.  When they were done with their lunches, they got up and headed out.  The outcasted boy was in the middle of devouring his fruit cup when they all stood.  He called to them, “Hey, wait for me!”  He scrambled to scoop up all the things he pulled out from his lunchbox and shoved it all back inside.  It looked like he only was able to eat 2 of his things–one and a half if you truly count half his fruit cup.  He closed his lunchbox and scurried over to where the group was heading.  They slipped out, finally able to get rid of the persistent kid, shutting the cafeteria doors on him.  The kid had the same defeated look he had not too long ago.  He debated whether he should open the door or not.

I saw the kid pull his hand away from the handle and turn back around.  He walked over to the nearest group of kids sitting at a table.  I couldn’t hear exactly what he had said but I inferred he was asking if he could join them, to which the new group turned him away.  The kid then turned back around and stormed out the door.  I followed suit, grabbing a cup of fruit from the serving table.

I walked out into the hall to find the corridor empty.  My eyes scanned around to see any secret nooks one could escape to.  I heard a door hit its frame across the hall, a slight sound any other person would easily ignore.  I walked over to the sound, opening the fruit cup I snagged.  I proceeded to intentionally pour it down my shirt.

I entered a bathroom to linger at the sink to wash off the fruit juice.  I quickly glanced from the mirror at the stalls to find one of them closed.  When the person behind the closed stall heard the door, he quieted his sniffling.  I turned on the tap and put the hem of my shirt under the running water.  The toilet flushed and the boy emerged to wash his hands after faking going to the bathroom.  He started running his hands underneath the faucet keeping his head down.  I smiled and broke the silence, “I don’t think this is coming out anytime soon.”  I scrubbed the fabric of my shirt to prove my point.  “And I don’t have an extra shirt so this better dry quick!”  The boy chortled.  I kindly said, “I’m new here.  What’s your name?”

The boy precariously looked up at me.  “I’m Nathan.  What’s yours?”

“Call me Mickey,” I replied.  I pulled my soaking shirt from the sink and marveled at the wet stain on my front.  I looked at Nathan and we both laughed.  “It just had to have spilled on my white shirt!”

Nathan told me, “In the bathroom next to the music room, there’s an air dryer you could dry your shirt with!”  I asked where that was and he showed me.  He was there to keep me company the whole time I dried my shirt.

“Good as new!  Thanks, man,” I said once my shirt was dry.  “Where are you headed for classes next?”  He shared his whole schedule with me and I offered to walk with him to his classes using the excuse that he could help me navigate around the school.  He couldn’t decline.  “What kind of things are you into?” I asked.

Nathan began to share all of his interests.  I learned he loves video games, D&D, scootering, and upbeat metal.  He plays the flute in the school band.  He doesn’t have any recreational hobbies but if he did, he said he would most enjoy volleyball.  I asked him why he doesn’t play sports to which he simply responded, “I’m too uncoordinated.”  I asked what other things he’d be interested in taking up.  “I just got a new upgrade on my computer where I can do art!” he was explaining excitedly.  “My new video game has amazing backgrounds and it has inspired me.”  I listened to every one of his tangents and enthusiastically encouraged him.  I was awe-struck to realize how much he was able to share in such a short amount of time to someone he just met.

We finally reached Nathan’s next class and we lingered in front of the open door.  Nathan was still chatting about how he passed a hard level in his video game rather than going inside to class.  I had to interrupt him and send him in.  He asked if I would be around in between classes so we could talk again.  I told him it’d be best to catch up once school got over.

After Nathan eventually went to sit down at his desk, I was able to walk away and head down the hall.  I was stopped by someone I hadn’t recognized yet.  “You must be new, huh?” he said.  “Listen, new kid, here are some rules.  Stay away from that weird freak!  I know he seems easy to make friends with, but he’ll talk your ear off and it’ll be too late for you to get away.  Take my advice while you still can.  Trust me, it's in your best interest.”

“What has he done to get this kind of reputation?” I defended.

“He’s weird, dude!  He’s a nerd and he ain’t afraid to show it.”

“What’s so wrong in sharing your passions?”

The kid was stumbling on his words but he obviously had more to say.  “Look,” he said at last, “we used to let Nathan hang with me and my friends once but we had to kick him out.  He was so obnoxious and couldn’t let us do our own thing.  He was pushing his interests on us, not letting things go.  Dude can’t take a hint, either.  We tried letting him down slowly but that didn’t work.  He was oblivious!  Do you know how many times we told him he talks too much?”

“Well thanks for the heads up.  Name’s Mickey.  It was nice to meet you.  What’s your name?”

“DJ,” he said.  Then the bell rang.  “Gotta get to class!”  DJ sprinted down the hall as he greeted his teacher.

Once school got over, I was waiting at one of the main doors.  A flood of students rushed out as I was searching for Nathan among the crowd.  I was too busy scouting the doors I hadn’t seen him sneak past and hide behind me.  He jumped at my back, spooking me almost into a second death.  “Nathan!”  He was belly-laughing, nearly collapsing to the ground.  Once he was wrangled in, I walked with him to his house.  He was ranting about his teachers and the “bogus assignments they gave” when I interrupted him.  “So, being a new student, I want to know which friends are safe to be around.  What has your experience been with these people so far?”

He looked blankly at me for a split second.  He then said, “Oh, they’re all great!  I know practically everybody and I can say they’re all awesome!”  He turned his face away from me so I wouldn’t see the truth in his eyes.

“Do you know of a DJ?”  Nathan looked back at me, guilty I caught onto his lie.  “I ran into him earlier and he said you and him used to be friends?”  I didn’t want to egg it on further and let Nathan explain the rest.

“Yeah, we were friends.”  For the first time since I met this kid, he shut down.

“What happened?  Tell me the truth,” I gently pressed.

Nathan sighed before elaborating.  “They kicked me out.  Said I couldn’t handle ‘vibing with their groove’, whatever the heck that means.  DJ was mean to me–they all were.  They just didn’t get me.  They hated everything I liked and made sure my interests were less than theirs.”

I filled in the blanks where Nathan was too afraid to say.  “They bullied you.”  Nathan solemnly nodded his head.  My heart broke for him but at the same time it swelled in anger towards everyone else.  I wanted to let everyone know that their careless actions caused this poor kid to feel left out in every given situation and there was no going back on what they’ve done.  I had to push those strong feelings aside so I could focus on my mission.  “Is that how it was with everyone?”

It took a long moment before Nathan answered and I patiently waited for him to.  “Yeah,” he said at last, barely above a whisper.  “I have literally tried everywhere to make friends and they all ended the same way by pushing me away.  I have done all that I possibly could to have made some kind of connection with everyone but it never happened.”

“You just haven’t found your right group yet.”

“Didn’t you hear me?”  Nathan’s frustration was manifesting, his anger finally being realized.  “I had tried making friends with everyone, each attempt very unsuccessful.  Everyone knows me and everyone hates me!”

“There’s got to be at least one person kind enough to—”

“Everyone knows me and everyone knows to stay away from me.”

I was dumbstruck.  I felt like I was at a blockade, a brick wall, a dead end.  This kid who craves any kind of friendship yet knows he’s not liked by the entire school.  I had to change tactics and figure them out fast.  “Well, I’m at least one person who is your friend.”

Nathan looked at me, his eyes dilated.  “Really?”  I affirmed and reassured him.  If anything, I’d be this kid’s one and only genuine friend for now.

We reached Nathan’s house and he went inside.  I kept walking to put my ducks in a row so I could help Nathan in any way possible.

The next day at school, I sat with Nathan during lunch in the cafeteria.  Nathan was telling me about his new art program on his computer and how he had to figure out the setup and controls before he got started on the drawing process.  I was intently listening to him while I scanned the room in search of that one person who wouldn’t mind being around him.  Seemed like I was that one.

Nathan’s spiel was cut short when a large group of friends walked by our table.  One after the other, each kid slapped the top of Nathan’s head.  Some would call out a name when they walked by to give him a harsh pat.  When the last of their group walked away, they huddled back together and laughed, clearly at Nathan.  Their smirking and mocking boiled my blood.  I stood up and shouted, “Do we have a problem here?”  The cafeteria went silent.  The group halted their laughter as they looked at me, shocked someone would stand up for the outcast.  I reiterated a little more gently, “What’s your deal?”

After sharing some worried expressions between each other, one person in the group said, “It’s tradition.”

“Why pick on the littlest target when you should be worrying about yourselves?  That’s right, start minding your own business and leave him alone.”  I sat back down, my eyes glaring at them like a hawk.  I told Nathan while still staring at them, “You’re right, Nathan, everybody here is nothing but a bunch of jerks.”  I gave the group one last warning from my eyes that shot daggers and they quickly left the cafeteria.

Nathan was gaping back at me.  I turned to him and said, “I’m sorry, it just grinded my gears to see all these people pick on someone who doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

“But if not me, they’d pick on someone else.”

“Nathan, don’t be a punching bag for everyone.  That’s not who you are!”

Nathan looked decidedly remorseful for most likely having let himself be everybody’s target for who knows how long.  “I guess I’ve never had that kind of courage.  I figure if I told the bullies off, I wouldn’t have anyone to really acknowledge me anymore.”

Something clicked in my brain and his behavior made sense.  He craved any kind of relationship because he was seeking some form of attention.  He didn’t want to be known as a nobody.  He was scared of being alone.

I told Nathan, “I think it’s probably safe to not seek out friends at this point.”  He looked at me in shock, hurt that I would advise something so contradictory to what he thought he needed.  “Everybody here doesn’t appreciate you.  And trust me, you’d want to be where you are appreciated.  Let those kinds of people come up to you.”

“But we’re supposed to forgive and forget, right?” he pleaded.

“Not in this instance.  Yes, you should always forgive, despite how difficult it can be sometimes, but you don’t forget what they did to you or else you’ll go back to those same undeserving punishments they have been treating you with this whole time.  Sometimes having no friends is better than having terrible friends.”

“Where can I be appreciated?” Nathan asked, hopeless.

“Right here,” I answered.  “You should be able to appreciate yourself, especially when nobody else does.”

“You appreciate me, right?”

I smiled.  “Of course I do!”  My smile faded.  “But eventually I’ll have to leave and I won’t be there for you all the time.”

Time was drawing nearer to class time so we packed everything up and walked to Nathan’s next class.  He picked up his binder and I noticed the corner of a worksheet sticking out.  I saw a blob of graphite etched onto the paper.  “Woah!” I exclaimed.  I gestured to the paper.  “Did you draw that?”

Nathan sheepishly pulled that paper out and gave it to me.  I studied the intricate design he was able to scratch on with his pencil.  On his page was a decorated octopus wearing some kind of battle armor.  It wielded a shield and sword with its tentacles.  The accuracy, despite how fictional the scene was, was well depicted.  “I sometimes doodle during class.”

“This is amazing!  You ‘doodle’?  This is more of a masterpiece!  How long did it take you?”

Nathan shrugged.  “Not long at all.  The hardest part was keeping track of all 8 tentacles.”

“You have a talent, Nathan!  This is seriously incredible!”  I gasped.  “You should totally hang your sketches in places where people can see them, like above the water fountain!”  Nathan looked weary of my idea.  “People will appreciate a good piece of art.  Nobody even has to know it was you.”  Nathan was satisfied with that idea.  The bell rang and he headed off to his class.

The next lunch I spent with Nathan, we ate outside.  There was no one else outside even though it felt refreshing eating in the tree’s shade.  Nathan showed me the sketchbook he bought yesterday after school.  He had already drawn a bear on the first page.  I applauded his talent once again.  He asked what he should draw next so I gave him a suggestion.  He dove right into his notebook and started sketching.  He slowly talked about his day as his pencil furiously scribbled on the page.  When he learned that he couldn’t multitask, he started talking about his current process in sketching.  I sat back and listened to him mindlessly talk the whole lunch hour.  He would occasionally pause working on his art to grab a bite of his lunch.

Nathan kept himself so busy that I had to practically pull him away from his drawing when the bell rang.  He quickly said goodbye as I watched him plop down in his seat and pull out his sketchbook to begin working in it again.  He seemed unphased by the bustle of students filling in around him.  He didn’t seem to notice those sitting around him staring at what he was doing.  He didn’t seem to care about the other people anymore.

After school got out, I met Nathan at the drinking fountains.  He had his sketchbook clutched to his chest as he looked at the bulletin board above the fountain.  “I’m gonna put them up,” he determinedly said.  "I've been thinking about it the whole day and am nervous about doing this, but I really want to!"  He opened the book to the first page where he had drawn the bear.  He tore out that page and tucked his masterpiece under a pin that was holding a flier to a school event that happened 2 weeks ago.  He meandered through the school placing his many other works he was able to complete in his classes above the drinking fountains.  Then he looked at me, ever so proud of himself and said, “I feel accomplished, Mickey.”

* * *

“Wow.”  I walked in the school to find a huddle of kids surrounding the water fountain.  They were looking at Nathan’s artwork he had put up yesterday.  They ogled over the work by the anonymous artist.

Nathan found me and trotted over.  “They like it, they really like it!” he whispered.

“I told you!  You’re awesome!”

The huddle marveled at who the artist might be.  Nathan was giddy as he attempted to hide his own pride and joy.

“I have some more I can put up,” Nathan told me.  I encouraged him to share his works whenever he gets the chance.

By the end of the day, there were Nathan’s pieces of artwork everywhere.  And it came as a surprise to me when a girl came up to Nathan to ask about his drawings.  “Hi, Nathan, I saw you were working on one of these in class the other day,” she was saying, “and I also noticed that you put your initials on one.  Would you be interested if we collaborated on, like, a comic strip or something?”

Of course Nathan couldn’t turn down her offer.  "Absolutely, Victoria!"  He said they could work on it together during lunch.

Nathan expected it to be a one-time occurrence but he quickly found out that he and the girl enjoyed working on comics together.  It was a strangely sweet moment to find out I was becoming the third wheel.  Those two would lose themselves in their artwork and ideas that I was an afterthought.  Sometimes it felt I wasn’t even there with them but rather a fly on the wall never intended to be involved.

My mission felt accomplished pretty quickly.  It was when Nathan invited me to his house, the same time he invited his collaborator over as well.  The two artists put their heads together to make a large mural for the upcoming art festival.  I had helped get ideas flowing then I just started to fade away.  I observed Nathan and his friend and they delved deep in their own conversation.  They didn’t need me to approve of their thoughts or consult with me anymore.  They seem to have everything covered now.

I pushed out my chair and stood.  They didn’t notice me get up–they didn’t even acknowledge or flinch at the sound of the stool scraping against the hardwood floor.  I slowly crept away from the table.  “I guess it’s my time,” I said aloud for no one in particular to hear.  “I think you’ve finally found your group, Nathan.  You found your confidant.”  I walked out of the room moving to the front door.  “You found a way to have confidence in yourself and be able to genuinely bond with another person through shared passions.”  I looked back at Nathan one last time.  “Remember who you are, Nathan…  Please don’t miss me…  Good luck with all your future endeavors.”  I looked at the door to see a white portal beckoning me to enter.  The bittersweet moment screwed my heart into a twisted knot.  What if I didn’t want to leave him?  But I was proud of his progress and I was ready to receive my reward.

I faithfully took a step towards the portal.  “Mickey?”  Nathan was standing behind me.  His eyes were fearfully pleading for me to stay with him.  “Where are you going?”  He sounded like he was defending himself rather than wanting to know where I actually could be off to.

I looked at him, then glanced at the portal, then back at him.  His mortal vision obviously hadn’t seen the bright opening and, to him, it looked like I was walking out of his house unprovoked.  But my successful return was right in front of me.  I sighed, stuck between a rock and a hard place.  I thought I could leave him, he was finally in good hands.  But clearly he still had more progress to make.  Could I really leave him when he supposedly still needed me.

“What’s up, pal?” I cheerfully asked, turning my attention directly to Nathan.  I peered behind me for a brief moment and saw my way back slowly close.  I could return later, right?

After hearing I wasn’t abandoning him, Nathan’s face immediately brightened.  “Can you help Tori and I decide on what kind of shading we should do?”  I assuredly nodded my head.

When I came back to the table, there was a large piece of paper with scraps of paper surrounding it with ideas scribbled on them.  They had outlined the whole masterpiece.  Nathan’s partner was already shading a corner with her pencil.  Nathan frantically was telling me about their conundrum.  “Should we single hatch, or cross hatch?  Or should we circular shade so it gets blended together and not as rough?”

The girl who already started shading sighed.  “We talked about this, Nate,” she calmly said, “that we would hatch the background for stylistic effect and then circular shade the foreground so it would blend smoothly.  It’ll make it look dynamic!”

I chuckled.  “Seems like Victoria’s got it figured out!  Believe in your abilities and trust your choices.”  I sat back down and watched the two of them shade until it got dark while Nathan did all the talking.

* * *

After a couple week’s worth of work on this humongous art project, Nathan and Victoria were ready for the art festival.  They had turned in their submission and waited for the day everyone and anyone in the county could view it.  The day of the festival at school, Nathan had put up more drawings he’d been working on the side.  On all of his new pieces, he put his signature largely in the corner.  Everywhere we went in between classes, Nathan became somewhat popular around the school.  People were always coming up to him to congratulate on his artistic talent.  The interaction with the students was completely different than any other day I’ve witnessed.  No one put Nathan down, no one teased him in a negative way, no one hit him.  It was like they finally appreciated him as a person.  The anger I had felt towards the students subsided.  Even DJ came up to us and spoke to Nathan.

DJ said, “Wow, Nathan, I never knew you were so artistic.  Your drawings are crazy good!”  He went to turn away then hesitantly and shamefully said, “You know, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for treating you the way we did back then.  I don’t expect you to forgive us, but just know I’m sorry for being such a butthole to you.”

As the day went on, more people approached Nathan with humble and sincerely kind things to say to him.  I could tell Nathan felt he was on top of the world!

The school had scheduled an assembly at the end of the day, debuting the art festival where Nathan’s and Victoria’s artwork were being exhibited.  All the students packed into the auditorium for the event.  I followed Nathan as we walked down the halls.

“Sad that Tori isn’t here to see this,” Nathan was saying.  “I bet they’ll probably announce us and our art!”  I asked him how working with Victoria was.  “Well, she’s pretty hard to get along with sometimes.  I'm nervous she doesn't like me sometimes.  She doesn’t talk a lot.”

“Sometimes it’s okay to sit in silence with another person.  It doesn’t have to be filled with words in order to avoid awkward silences.  Just enjoying another’s company with nothing to say is one of the best relationships to have.”

We rounded the last corner when I felt a sudden urge rip me away from his side.  I cast my eyes to Nathan and he was peeking from the doorway into the filled auditorium.  He looked at me, expecting me to be nearby.  “Mickey,” Nathan said, “you’re coming with me, right?”

I sighed.  “Look, I–I have to go now.”  Nathan opened and closed his mouth wanting to say something but didn’t know what.  “You’ll be fine, Nathan.  You know I can’t be there for you forever.  I wish I could but…”

“You’re…leaving?”  I nodded.  “But who’s going to be there with me?”

I gave him one last piece of advice to boost his confidence.  “You don’t need me.  Look at what you’ve been able to accomplish all on your own.  None of it was my doing; it was all you!  You don’t have to be afraid of being lonely.”

“But I’ll be sitting all alone!”

“Being lonely and being alone are two totally different things.  You aren’t lonely, you have friends and people who know you and now recognize your true potential.  You can choose to be alone and be confident in yourself.  And you know what, I've noticed that drawing is your safe place.  You escape into your drawings and you have a determined confidence in yourself.  I know you’re nervous and maybe even scared, but look what happened when you stepped out of your comfort zone and put up your art!  You have it in you, you just have to be willing to take it one step at a time and keep moving forward.  Can you do that for me?”

Nathan shakily drew in a breath.  “Yeah.”

“Nathan, you are awesome and don’t forget that, and especially don’t let anyone else forget that.  I’ll see you, bud.”

Nathan ran up to hug me.  “Will I see you again?”

“Maybe,” I responded hopefully.  “But if not anytime soon, all I hope is that I was a good example to you.”  We pulled away from our embrace as we sent each other on our separate journeys.  Nathan proudly walked through the auditorium doors despite him being terrified of feeling all on his own.  I rounded the corner and disappeared through the white opening, my wings sprouting in honor of my best pal.

Once I had obtained a deep comprehension of what happened to me, I was better able to accept my new circumstances.  Despite being so distant in this new world where I now will forever dwell, I was able to still be part of everything I would miss out on.  I watched birthday parties year after year.  What once were fun celebrations with presents and children running through the house turned into a desolate night with a slice of cake.  One’s birthday, whom’s used to be streamers and balloons, now is a singular flower placed in a vase on a window sill.  I watched memories flood in while boxes full of precious items were loaded into a truck.  A home once packed with life, now an empty house with just its architectural bones showing on the inside.  I watched the heartbreaking struggle of having to start from scratch again yet with the frustration of experience from having done all this before.  I saw what daily challenges were like without having to be there to experience it.  I was there with them the whole time, whether they realized it or not.

I’ve been watching them from above ever since, and I grew excited for the day when they would finally be with me.  I would wait for them and show them around myself.  My excitement, as twisted as it may seem, flourished when my dear brother contracted his sickness.  It began plaguing him not too long after the incident and it gave me some sort of sickening hope.  The anticipation gets to me because after every doctor’s appointment, every prescription, every exhausting night of full sleep from carrying on with the grueling day, it becomes closer to the day my older brother will be free of his torment.

I was watching my family eat dinner together, talking about their day–I was especially interested in what my brother had to say about his friends he had just hung out with–when I was drawn away from my balcony.

A chaperone took me to a blank space.  I called out to the empty room.  “You wanted to speak with me?” I asked the emptiness, my delicate voice echoing in the white chamber.

“Yes, Elizabeth,” the voice responded.  “You are excited to see your brother.”  It wasn’t a question but I reacted like it was anyway, affirming the voice’s observation.  “The time grows nearer, as you know, Elizabeth.  You have been looking forward to it.  You will get to see your brother as well as earn your wings.”

I gently interrupted, “Will I see him before he comes here?  Is that my mission?”  My heart fluttered.  I clutched my hands close to my chest.

“You will go down and be with your brother Travis, yes.”  I started to bounce on my heels.  “Elizabeth, your mission is to serve those who are in need of comfort.  You will be able to utilize your talents and skills which you have not been given the chance to yet.  You will be prepared to fulfill your mission.  You are needed by the people you love, Elizabeth.”

A circle appeared, opening up to my destination.  I eagerly stepped through, ascertaining what I would have been like as a teenager.

* * *

“Hey, wait for me!” I called.  I ran to them.  I was glad I spotted the group when I did.  I would have been left behind!

The large group of friends turned around and cheerfully called my name.  “Liz!”  They welcomed me into their circle when I caught up to them.  I looked around and saw everyone who was there.  It seemed like all 5 in the friend group were here and accounted for.  They filled me in on where they were heading.  I didn’t care much about the ice cream they were planning on getting, I was just glad I was at the right place at the right time to join them.  That’s how it all felt for me.  When I first found this group, they happened to need one more person for their sports tournament.  I wasn’t shy about joining them and they were very kind about letting me tag along to many other outings afterwards.  I became sort of the younger sister to these guys and they took me under their wing.  It was fun getting to know all of my brother’s friends and being a friend to them also.

I found Travis amidst the group and walked beside him.  “How are you doing today?” I gently asked.

Travis smiled.  “Better than ever!”  This was his typical response every time he was asked this question whether it was me or another person.  Despite my contained excitement of getting to be with him again, I had to make sure he wouldn’t know how we are more closely related than he thinks.  He would not be able to understand my purpose or my existence yet.  I presume that because of this shroudness, he has been the hardest to connect with.  I have seen the struggles in his life so I know what he’s going through, but you wouldn’t have to know all that to feel that his genuine yet generic response was a lie.

“What flavor are you getting, Liz?” Sasha asked me.  Sasha was the tallest in the group so whenever we spoke, I felt I was looking up to him from a gnat’s perspective.  He was a gentle giant, however.  His quiet and gentle ways made his height less intimidating.

“I’m thinking of settling for strawberry,” I blatantly responded.  Everyone jokingly groaned.

Extroverted Hannah responded, “You always get the strawberry flavor wherever we go!  Whether it’s smoothies, ice cream, cake, it’s always strawberry!”

Jake, Travis’s best bud, said, “You gotta try something new!  Broaden your horizons!”

“I think strawberry is a sweet flavor for Liz to choose,” motherly Sarah defended.  “I’m personally not a fan of strawberry but if Liz loves it, then we should let her!”

Jake wouldn’t let it go.  “Sure, sure.  But you gotta at least try this new flavor they have!  It’s salted caramel with cashews!”

Hannah butted in, “I have a nut allergy so I can’t eat that, sadly.”

“Okay,” I said, “I won’t get that so we can both miss out on it.  Looks like strawberry it is then!”  The group laughed.

When we arrived at the ice cream shop, we all ordered and got our sweets.  I proudly got strawberry, Travis got chocolate, Sasha pistachio, Sarah mint chocolate, Hannah vanilla, and Jake with moose tracks.  Then we found seating outside to enjoy the dessert.

We were happily licking our cones when Travis leaned in my direction and said, “You know, my sister used to love strawberry flavored things, too.”

Jake burst out, “I didn’t know you had a sister!”

Travis continued, “Yeah, I did.  She would never drink milk plain.  It had to be flavored.  And chocolate wouldn’t do, it had to be strawberry!”

“What kind of kid doesn’t like chocolate milk?” Sarah said.

Travis laughed.  “My sister, apparently!”  Everyone joined in his laughter.

“Seriously, dude, since when did you have a sister?” Jake asked.  Travis’s bright eyes became dark as he looked down at the ground.

I lightly touched Jake’s shoulder.  “He obviously doesn’t want to talk about that,” I quietly said.

Thankfully, Sarah quickly changed the subject.  “When I was little, I hated raspberries.”  The group shared their surprise.  “It’s true!  I don’t remember why but there was a powerful reason I wouldn’t eat raspberries.  I would eat anything raspberry flavored, though.  I mean, artificially flavored food doesn’t even taste like the fruit they were trying to replicate anyway.  I was a weird kid.”

Sasha interjected, “You weren’t the only one!  When I was a kid, I would put ketchup on everything but would not eat tomatoes.  I didn’t even know that ketchup was made from tomatoes; I really thought they were two totally different things.”

The group shared all the weird things they did as young kids.  We laughed the whole rest of the evening.  When it was time to head our own separate ways, I stayed with Travis, as I usually do.

“I do have to say,” Travis said, “you remind me of my sister in a lot of ways.  I don’t know how to explain it but—”

“Oftentimes, things are really hard to explain, and that’s okay.  Maybe one day it will all make sense.”

“I can’t really go off of anything since I only knew her as a toddler but if I knew her if she was older, I can see her being a lot like you.  Her name was even Elizabeth but we called her Eliza.”

You have no idea, Travis.  “I sensed it was a soft spot but, if you don’t mind, what…happened…?”  I had to tread my question with extreme caution.

“Yeah, I have never shared anything about things like that with my friends before.  I mean, just tonight did they learn I’m not the only child in my family.”  Travis sighed.  “She…wasn’t able to be around past 3 years old and I thought I had…”  His voice cracked as a sob slipped through.  He wiped a nonexistent tear from his face.  “It’s not something I like to bring back up.”

I apologized.  I had no idea this had affected him this much.  We were both extremely young when it happened.  He was no more than maybe 5 or 6 years old at the time if I recall correctly.  It surely was traumatic for all involved.  I guess knowing the grand scheme after it happened took that shock away.  But having to live in that uncertainty and grief all this time must have only festered within my family.

When we arrived at Travis’s block, the new place they moved to which I had only seen as a third-person witness, we said our goodbyes.  Then he walked down the road leaving me on the corner under the streetlight.  I gazed down at the neighborhood with a newfound sympathy towards my family.

* * *

The next time all our friends got together was at the bowling alley.  Each of us took our turns throwing the heavy ball down the bowling strip.  Jake was close to winning–as he constantly reminded us–Hannah closely following behind.  I had the least amount of points out of the 6 of us but I was getting better.  It took a slow start.  “I have never gone bowling before, guys!” I would always say when my ball rolled into the gutter.  Sasha near the end of our game suggested we put up the rails for my turns to which I replied, “This whole time there were railings that would stop my ball from going into the gutter and you didn’t mean to tell me until we’re 3 rounds from finishing?”

The best part, aside from getting to try bowling on my Earthly mission, was being with the people I’ve learned to care about.  Outside of Travis, I’ve learned what teenagers around what would be my age are like.  This life is a mystery and I’m grateful I could be a part of it again but in a different aspect.  I looked around and felt a deeper connection to these people.  I’m not sure how to quite explain it but my heart opened and wished to grow a flower for each of these people I was surrounded by.

It was Travis’s turn to bowl next.  He got up and, as he was joking with Hannah, he accidentally bumped into the standing keyboard.  He swiftly recovered but when everyone else was talking amongst themselves, I saw Travis shake out and rub his arm that hit the obstacle.  He was wincing.  He picked up a ball and geared to throw it forward but he ended up throwing it backwards, the sphere slipping from his grasp and rolling towards us.

Instinctively, everyone jumped up and twirled.  They all laughed and I couldn’t help but laugh with them.  They shared some kind of inside joke, one that I did not understand, but I laughed out of humorous shock.  Travis sheepishly laughed as well, shamelessly guilty of what he did.  He discretely held his elbow.

Travis scrambled to get the runaway bowling ball back in his grasp.  He hurriedly finished his last turn before sitting back down.  The first roll barely reached one pin, knocking it down.  The next roll, he let it roll for the gutter.  He wasn’t heckled, thankfully, as much as if Jake wasn’t boasting about his final turn about getting at least 3 strikes in a row.

I studied Travis's face, all the color since leaving his skin.  “You’re looking a bit pale, Travis,” I whispered to him.

“I’m fine.” he fired back.  Jake rolled his first strike.

Jake was flexing his arm as he did a victory stroll.  “Seriously,” I gently pressed, “you’re as white as a ghost.”

“I’m fine!” he repeated.  Jake hit his second strike.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Travis was twitching his lips as he tried to avoid answering, then he suddenly burst, “I told you, I’M FINE!”  Jake jolted at Travis’s loud outburst causing him to throw the ball down the gutter with a clang!  All eyes snapped to Travis’s direction.  He calmed himself down and gathered enough strength to casually tell everyone, “Nothing’s wrong, I’m okay.”  He slumped in his seat, dark circles under his eyes forming.

When we were leaving the alley after our game was over, Jake was overzealous in telling everybody about his victory even though rolling a gutter ball on his last turn.  Everyone else was too busy wranging Jake back in that they didn’t notice Travis straggling behind.  He clutched the wall as he staggered to keep his body moving forward while staying upright.  He was fighting to keep his heavy eyes open and even when they were open they were spinning around in their sockets.  Yet he kept going, trying his best to make it seem like he was doing fine when people were looking.

Abruptly, I heard Travis faintly call my name.  “Liz.”  I whipped around to find him on his way down.  I caught him before he hit the ground.  “I’ve just never been so tired before for no reason.  It feels like when you stand up too fast and you get lightheaded so you have to sit back down except I’ve been up for a while now.”  He took a moment to gather his bearings.  “I didn’t want to tell the others because I’d be afraid they’d treat me differently.”

“I know,” was all I said.  I readjusted my grip on him to help my brother stand.  He sharply groaned and I looked to where I was holding him.  My fingers were digging into his elbow, an ugly rainbow of bruising spread across his arm.  “Oh, goodness, Travis!” I exclaimed.  This caught the attention of the others.  Sarah first came running to my side.

“Dude, where did you get that?” said Jake.

“That was, like, not 10 minutes ago,” I added.

“Was that from bumping into the keypad thing?” Hannah asked.

“Guys, quit crowding around him,” Sarah rebuked.

Travis explained his hidden condition to all of us.  “I didn’t want to worry you.  I’m sorry you found out this way.”

Sasha insisted on calling for an ambulance to which Travis rejected the fact of having to see more doctors.  Sasha instead called our parents who quickly whisked Travis away.  It was nothing new for Travis or our parents but tonight did seem worse than any other episodes I’ve witnessed.  The 5 of us were left in astonishment when Travis disappeared to rush to the hospital.

“I had no clue that that’s what he was going through,” Jake meekly said.  “Our boy just dropped Earth-shattering news back-to-back without ever telling us before.”

“He’ll be alright,” Sasha said with a question in his voice.

“Whatever is meant to happen to him will happen,” I assured.  Doubt promptly shrouded my mind for the first time ever.  My confidence faded as questions came into my subconscious making me rethink my whole purpose of being down here.

Hannah came up to me.  She had trouble getting her request out.  “Will you be able to be willing to come and stay for my family’s dinner tomorrow with me?  I haven’t asked the others yet but I feel we need something uplifting for Travis.”  I promised I would be there for Travis and for the rest of them.  They all felt they could use some prayers.

During Hannah’s dinner the next night, we prayed for Travis and his health so he might get better.  Something in my heart said that it wasn’t quite right but it will all work out anyway.  I couldn’t place the reason.

I would still catch up with our friends when we would go for different outings, still trying to keep things normal as we would share Travis’s status when one of us had gone to visit.  I found out that Travis would need a stem cell transplant and was waiting for the right donor.  Travis would have to go through more rigorous treatments to prepare in receiving the transplant if they ever found a donor.  It felt like I died twice when they said siblings are commonly the best donors.  A dissonance resonated within me and I couldn’t comprehend it.  I was meant to be with my brother yet I couldn’t help him in this life.  I wanted to return successful with my wings but I just wanted to welcome Travis to his new dwelling no matter what, even if that meant sacrificing my reward.

One evening, out of the blue, a thought came to my mind.  Go to him.  Now is your time.  You will be needed there.  I didn’t delay a single moment.  A newfound determination sprang within me.  Hope for realizing my true mission slowly rose like a sunrise shining across the night-covered land.

I walked up to the door I had seen so many times.  It was such a strange feeling finally being there in person, like a place you’ve seen in your dreams and you finally see the real-world inspiration your brain took it from.

I knocked on the door.  My mom opened it and my dad emerged from around the corner.  My heart swelled and my eyes watered.  This whole time, I’ve never had the chance to interact with this couple who raised me in my short life.  Seeing them face-to-face was completely different than seeing them from an alternate perception.  I could sense their anguish from years past and also their lack of hope.  I wanted nothing more so badly than to jump into their arms and tell them everything.  I most importantly wanted to tell them that I’m doing okay and they will be, too.  But I had to refrain.  Their faces were forlorn and distraught, seemingly very alarmed to a stranger’s presence on their doorstep.  I stumbled on my words but eventually got them out correctly.  “I’m–if–is this–is Travis here?”  Their faces were blank from trying to wrangle their emotions.  “I’m a good friend of his,” I further explained.

They let me in and showed me to his room.  They stepped aside, close enough to survey yet far enough away to not see directly into the room.  I cautiously opened the door.  There my brother was, on the other side of the room, laying on a bed in the sunlight coming in from the window, with a bunch of tubes and wires and a multitude of medical equipment attached all over him.  This poor kid’s body was a battleground.  He looked frail and ready to break, a drastic change from when I last saw him at the bowling alley.

“Travis,” I gently said.  I’ve seen him go through every one of his illnesses and treatments and always come through the other side triumphant, but he had never looked so weak as he did now.  I could see this day coming for a while, I was expecting it to be sometime soon, but I used to actually be excited.  Now after the interaction with my parents, I don’t want it to happen for their sake.  It’s not fair how it happened.  If they were guaranteed one of their children to leave, it would have been Travis.  What happened to me was not fair to them.  I can’t help but blame myself, but it was an accident.  Now they have to lose both of us.  Who will they have left?

I put my hand on Travis’s still hand.  “Travis,” I said again.

He stirred and opened his eyes.  “Liza,” he rasped.

“How are you?” I sincerely asked.

“Better than ever,” he managed to squeak out.  He brought his thin arm up to point at me.  “You’re not—You’re an angel, aren’t you?”

I smiled as a tear slid down my cheek.  “It’ll all make sense in its own due time.”

He took a great effort to swallow.  “What’s heaven like?”

I put my other hand on his shoulder.  I whispered, “It’s beautiful.  It’s wonderful!  You’ll love it there.”  I tucked my arm underneath him and carefully lifted him into an embrace.  “Do not be afraid.”  I held him close, feeling his shallow yet unnervingly slow breathing.  He was ready, he was done.  Whether he admitted to it or not, that’s what I could feel.  I glanced behind me to spot our parents standing at the door.  They were holding onto each other, their faces twisted from crying.  I motioned that they come and hold their son one last time.  I then whispered into Travis’s ear, “I love you, and I’ll see you on the other side.”  I gently let him go as our parents’ arms wrapped around him.  I slowly stepped backwards until I was out of the room.  I patiently waited in the living room.

I expected my parents to be there for a long while.  It became dark when they entered the living room, my dad nearly having to carry my mom as he helped her walk.  I let them settle down before giving them each a long hug.  It was not only from a place of empathetic mourning but from the child I once was who never got to hug her mommy or daddy in years.

I rubbed their backs and let their tears soak my shoulder.  I repeated my apologies and condolences until they were exhausted from the weight of losing another child.  They still cried without having any tears to fall.

It was my dad who finally told me to go as he took my mom to their room.  I didn’t want to leave them in this state but I had done all that I could do for them at the time.  I listened and left, my heart shattering into thousands of miniscule pieces I didn’t even know was possible.

* * *

“I know I shouldn’t, but I’m really questioning my whole reason for being on this mission,” I was saying.  “It doesn’t really make sense.  Is what I have been looking forward to for a decade not what is meant to happen?  Timing is everything and I have always been at the right place at the right time but nothing seemed right at that moment.  I’m just not understanding it.”

“It’s okay not to know sometimes,” the other angel in disguise comforted me.  “You’re new to this, and, frankly, so am I.  We’re both learning as we go.  But we have everything we need on this journey, Elizabeth.  Have faith it will work out because it will.”

“But I should have been there for him on the other side!”

“You were.  You were there giving him a piece of comfort he probably didn’t know he needed.  You knew more than anyone and you were there to help him cross.  In his last moments, he will remember the love and peace his life gave him, giving him the confidence to move on.”

“And I guess I did my job, so why am I still here?  Was that not my mission?”

“Partially.  I suppose it was not your whole mission then.  What you think you were meant to be here for is not really what you were intended to be here for.  It’s those you least expect who are in need of help.  You knew your brother needed your assistance one way or another, but what about those you assume are fine?  Those are truly the ones who are in need of your help.  Your gifts will aid them to where they will be in a state of contentment.”

“I don’t know how I can help who,” I pleaded for more advice.

“Who are you now left with?” she asked.  I answered by listing off the people I had spent time with.  “What do you think each of them needs?”  I thought aloud telling her what I had felt certain friends lack in this new circumstance of their lives.  “I think you had it in you this whole time.  You just had to work through the feeling of personal loss, something you have never felt before.  Now you know what that feels like so you are better able to empathize and assist these friends.”

What she said resonated deep within my heart.  She was right.  “Thank you so much, Gabrielle,” I told her.  I hugged her tightly.

“You’re very welcome,” Gabrielle responded.  “You’re going to do amazing things, Elizabeth.  Your brother will be so proud of you.”

* * *

The next time I visited my friends after seeing Travis pass was at his funeral.  The ceremony had gotten over and all the guests dressed in black dissipated.  I was grateful to see so many people who cherished Travis show up to support our parents.  I shouldn’t have been watching my mom and dad the whole time, though.  They looked weak and ready to give up.  They were much too young to be empty nesters already.  Each guest that left after sharing their condolences, my parents shrunk more and more deeper into despair.  It occurred to me that this was their second time having to do this.  I bet it brought back memories they tried shutting out for years.  And here those emotions came up for round 2 like a monster that would not drown.

I spotted my now 4 friends on the opposite side of the chairs conversing with their parents.  I headed over.  “Hi, guys,” I greeted as warmly as I could during this solemn event.

They replied back in small voices that took great effort to vocalize, “Hey, Liz.”

“Have you talked to Travis’s parents yet?” I asked.  They denied.  One of their parents suggested we all head over to talk to them.  I added, “Of all the people here, we were the ones who spent the most time with Travis.”

Our huddle migrated over to where my parents were.  We each shared our condolences individually and they thanked us for attending.  The group seemed to be wrapping the conversation up.  Before we split, I offered, “Would it be okay if the 5 of us joined the both of you for dinner sometime soon?”  They declined for tonight but would enjoy the company the next evening.  My friends’ parents insisted on them not preparing any food tomorrow since they will take care of it for the night.

The next day, I hopped between my friends’ houses helping each family prepare a portion of the meal.  Hannah’s family was in charge of dessert, Sasha’s were responsible for the side dish, Jake’s were doing the appetizer, and Sarah’s were in charge of the main dish.  Each family teamed up to coordinate another surprise for my parents also.

Us 5 kids showed up for dinner.  We each had a large serving dish of some sort to set on the table.  We asked in passing if they had refrigerator and freezer space.  We put Hannah’s dessert in the fridge to keep it chilled for the time being.

My parents graciously had set up a large dining area for all of us to spend the evening together in.  We began dinner with a prayer, specifically blessing the food, thanking my friends’ family’s service, and praying for the wellbeing of each other.  I prayed personally in my heart that my friends and my parents will find a life worth moving forward with.

There was a moment early in the meal where small-talk died down and there was an uncomfortable silence where everyone’s mind was in a dark and sad place.  I boldly broke the silence.  “Travis meant everything to you, Mr. and Mrs. Smith.  I am so sorry you had to lose him too.  I know you’re thinking it wasn’t fair.  He had gone through every troubling treatment, operation, and procedure successfully coming out of each one.  He had survived through so much only to have fought for so long his body couldn’t take it anymore.”  I looked around to study each face.  “I know he’s in a better place now.  He’s where he’s not restricted by his disease-ridden body anymore, he’s free.”

Hannah respectfully inquired about Travis’s condition.  My parents willingly elaborated.  My parents told things to them that Travis never shared with anyone.  They said things about him that nobody else would have known.  After one visit to the doctor, Travis had fainted.  Seeing that appointment was in the morning of school, he should have stayed home the rest of the day but Travis still pushed through anyway despite his fatigue because he had “already missed enough of school”.  Jake indulged that he remembers that day.  It was the science fair and Travis promised to help Jake with their presentation once he got done at the doctor’s office.  Jake said he wouldn’t have even guessed what had happened prior.  Instead of hanging out with everyone every third Thursday of the month, Travis was drawing blood for testing.  Yet he always managed to drop by and say hello.  He led a somewhat double life risking his own health to be a normal kid around his friends.  My parents included that Travis indeed did not intend to share his condition with his friends because he feared he would get treated differently and be excluded due to having to accommodate a safer lifestyle.  Sarah assured that none of them would have made Travis feel any different.  My parents assumed that that was their son’s way of hiding his insecurities.

Sasha started asking a question then stopped himself before getting to the meat of it.  He felt almost peer-pressured into finishing what he was going to ask.  “He said he had a little sister.  None of us knew that about him.  Why hasn’t he said anything about that either–if that’s alright asking?”

The dark recesses of memories flooded into my parents’ eyes again.  My dad put his hand on my mom’s and she waved him away, silently telling him she was strong enough now to speak.  She said, “We did have a little girl after Travis.  She was 3 at the time when she…was…”  Her voice wavered so she paused to control her tears that were challenging on getting out.  My dad wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  She gathered enough strength to continue.  “Travis was 5 and to the very end, he…”  She quickly paused again.  “He blames himself for having killed her but I hope now he is able to see that he was not at all responsible and he had no hand in it.”  My mother swallowed.  She wasn’t done.  “If there’s anyone to blame, it should be me.”

My father quickly jumped in, reprimanding, “If there’s anyone to blame, it should have been that careless guy behind the wh—”

“Honey!” my mom scolded.

I leaned closer resting my chest on the edge of the table, my eyes soft.  “I don’t think it was anyone’s fault.”  I reached my hand in my mom’s direction, lightly placing my hand on the tablecloth.  “It wasn’t your fault, Mom.  It was out of your control with both your children.”  Nervous of my slip-up that, thankfully, nobody seemed to notice or at least really acknowledge, I continued, “Timing is everything.  It was their time and, believe it or not, it was the right place at the right time.”

Jake, bless his interrupting habit, excitedly said, “What other stories of Travis can you tell us?”

My parents were more than happy to tell of all the immature things Travis has done or all the life-lessons he’s had to learn the hard way.  They shared stories of his girl crushes and times when he forgot his homework and ways that he has amazed them with his maturity–once he grew out of his childishness.  As they spoke, I recalled having been there watching all those occurrences unfold.  They retold these instances in a new perspective, seeing all the blessings and lessons in every trial in actuality the 3 of them shared.  After all this time and all these years, this must have been the first time they have openly shared these kinds of details.  I saw the weight of depression lift from them.  They could finally heal not only from Travis’s death but both of ours.

Before we knew it, dinner was finished and the sky was dark.  We helped the couple clean and put away dishes.  Since it became so late, we decided to come back the next day to give them the surprise we planned out for them.

In the following afternoon, the 5 of us showed up at their doorstep with a load in our arms.  “You still have that fridge space?”  We piled box after box of sustainable dinner food onto their counter.  My parents held each other, their faces wet from happy tears this time.  It was gratifying to see them with a genuinely grateful smile.  My friends and I packed in 3 weeks worth of food wherever we could find space.  We swiftly left while my parents were frozen in astonishment at our kind deed.  In return, my parents had invited us back into their home for dessert.  This was the first of many fun activities my parents would initiate for my friends.

I was overly excited to see my friends look forward to the next thing my parents would do for them or the next thing they would do for my parents.  It came as a shock to me, however, to see the underlying reason for their eagerness.  Hannah was just happy to have newfound friends she can confide in.  They became like another set of parents for her.  As for Sasha and Sarah, my parents practically became theirs.  Sasha troubles to find attention in his large family and Sarah’s parents are separated.  Jake also felt a void fill when he disclosed with me that his grandparents who he was extremely close with both passed a couple years back.  They each gave something to the other in return.

My parents let my friends set up a projector outside one night so they could watch an outdoor movie.  The teens got the movie started and they settled on the lawn.  My parents were preparing popcorn and snacks inside the house.  I lingered inside with them unsure of how to help.  I’ve helped them all that I can.  My mission was over.  I felt it, and I felt elated about it.  “Is there anything I can help you guys with?” I asked one last time.  They denied my assistance, saying I should be outside enjoying the show.  “I’m actually not going to watch the movie, I just wanted to check in one last time,” I was saying.  This amazingly caught the attention of my 4 friends due to their alert hearing.  “I have to leave here soon and I’m very grateful I was able to be a part of this chapter with you.”

Jake quickly barged in the house.  “You’re saying you’re leaving?”  The rest of the group trotted inside the house.

“Yeah, I'm gonna be going away,” I told everyone.

Sarah asked, “Are you moving?”  You could say that.  I nodded my head.  “Far away?”  I nodded my head as if to say "close enough".  “Will we see you again?”

I simply shrugged my shoulders.  “We’ll have to see.  But I know we will see each other again in the future.  …So this is goodbye.”  All my friends crowded around me to share one big group hug.  I told them each how they inspired me and how much I loved them.  When they broke away, I met my parent’s faces.  There was a mixture of sadness and hope.  I slowly walked over to them, my arms outstretched.

“Thank you for being an answer to our unsaid prayers,” my dad told me.  “I believe you were an angel sent just for us.”

“You mean it?” I asked him.

“Yeah we do, kid.”

My mother said, “Take care, darling.”

“I love you.  Be sure to look after Travis’s friends.”

Once the goodbyes were over, I walked away from the house.  I looked back once more to see everybody still staring at me from the porch.  I waved at them all and kept walking.  I rounded the corner and stepped through the white portal.

* * *

“Elizabeth!” an angel cheered.  He was waiting for me on the other side of the opening.

I ran over to him with both my arms reaching out to my sides, my wings behind me doing the same.  I dove into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around him tightly.  My nose was smothered in the crook of his neck.  I let my tears drip onto his toga.  “Travis,” I said.  "How are you?"

"Better than ever!"  We both laughed.  He was 100 percent genuine in his phrase, finally feeling the freedom of a painless existence.  “I’m so proud of you, Eliza,” Travis said.

“I’m proud of you,” I replied.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here greeting you when—”

Travis stopped me.  “You don’t have to be sorry for anything!  You were there for me when it counted and that’s all I needed in order to have the courage to cross, whether you’d be here to greet me or not.  Because I got to greet you when you came back.  And that’s pretty special, if you ask me.”  He pulled me away, keeping his hands on my shoulders so he could look me in the eye.  “You were there at the right place at the right time.  You were able to look past just me and see so many other people who were in need of your help.  And they will be forever grateful for that.  So don’t be sorry about anything!”

“I’m happy for Mom and Dad and all our friends.”

“Me, too.  All thanks to you.”

Travis and I walked together and shared so many stories.  We talked forever and enjoyed each other’s company since we had all the time to share these kinds of moments now.

* * *

“Ready for this?” the little boy said.  He gripped the tennis ball in one of his hands preparing for a professional level pitch, despite his young and delicate sister in front of him being close enough to simply grab the ball from his outreached hand.  The boy ever so gently barely threw the tennis ball in the air for the toddler to catch it.  The girl’s soft little fingers managed to grasp the fuzzy yellow material from the air.  Her big blue eyes lit up.  She flailed her arms and let go of the ball as it soared back to the boy.  The boy caught it effortlessly and instinctively threw it back at the little girl.  The yellow ball zipped right by the girl and rolled across the grass.  Having forgotten his own strength, the boy accidently chucked the ball so hard it started rolling into the road.  The boy sat in the grass of the shade of his house watching with anticipation for the ball to finally stop.  He noticed his sister waddling in the direction of the ball.  The boy scrambled to get his feet underneath himself to chase after the quick toddler.  His little sister was cautiously climbing down the curb when he heard behind him his mother calling out to them.  He ran to his sister but she had her feet on the asphalt and was waddling with increasing speed to the middle of the road.  His mother was frantically yelling and sprinting at her own full speed.  The boy could hear a car.  His tiny sister was crouched over the tennis ball studying a pebble.  The car was coming closer.  His mother was huffing and puffing behind him while his sister lingered in her curiosity.  The car was too close and didn’t seem to be slowing down.  It all happened in a fraction of a second.  He tried taking a step into the road but was pulled off his feet and hoisted to his mother’s chest.  She pressed his head into her shoulder as she turned around so that the boy was looking at where he and his sister were playing.  The mother screamed, her innards tense and her vocals raw.

An original story by Denzlee Knudsen

all characters and scenarios are fictitious; not based on real people or events

“What is wrong with you?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

“You used to be so sweet and kind and gentle. What happened to that little girl you once were?”

All she could do was helplessly shrug her shoulders.

“I know she’s in there. Maybe deep down inside you, but I know she’s in there. I want to see her again. No more sad, hurt, and helpless Addy.”

Yet another conversation with her caregiver that left her broken. More broken than how she was before. Addy trudged to her bedroom where she locked herself inside.

Crawling into her bed, she wished to dissolve and get absorbed into her mattress, no trace of her to be found. Her guardian was right. She didn’t want to admit it but she knew they were right. She was different. She had changed. She was no longer the carefree child she once was. Now she was guarded, ruthlessly turning her back towards the world. She thought she was stronger because of the things she went through. But those hardships also made her weak in other ways.

Her mind ran through all the pivotal moments in her life that helped mold her into the kind of survivor she now was. She hated that those times in her life were still stored in her memory. If it were up to her, she would gladly erase them from existence. But no matter how hard she tried to forget, the stronger the memory’s hold on her became. Like an autoimmune disease, it ate away at her from the inside out, slowly driving her to insanity. She wished she could escape it but it followed her everywhere.

She rolled over in her bed and buried her face in her arms. She yearned for release. She anticipated a dream to carry her to safety.

Addy hadn’t felt safe in a long time. It got to the point where she forgot what that feeling of security was. A place where she wasn’t on edge? Hadn’t been there in years. A time where she didn’t have to worry about every little sound and thought that came to her mind? She couldn’t remember.

Maybe when I was a kid, she thought. She couldn’t recall much of her childhood before everything happened. She was either too young to have remembered anything or her prominent past took up space and replaced all the good memories.

Addy recalled a picture her guardian possessed that was tucked away in a box of her as a young child. She tried to place that youthful face over an imaginary character to represent her younger self. What that version of her was doing, she didn’t have the slightest clue. What did a normal childhood look like?

Suppose Addy’s younger self wore a cheap purple princess dress that velcroed together in the back. Her matted hair clinging tightly to a plastic tiara. Perhaps she was sitting on the carpeted basement floor of a living room playing with…dice? Would this young girl be alone, happily content with playing by herself?

Addy saw this young version in a third person point of view. Her current older self was watching this scene play out from a doorway. I always wondered if I had met my past self would she be proud of us or horrified? She strolled over to her younger variant.

“Those are some pretty colors,” Addy told the girl, gesturing to the dress. She crouched down, meeting the face that was on the picture. She imagined that it would have been quite jarring for her past self to see her current self. Her hair no longer flowed down her back but rather half buzzed and cut to level with her earlobe. She favored the color red in her clothing choices and accessorized the many piercings in her face to match her outfit. She seemed so different from the person in the photo. But the eyes stayed the exact same. She pretended as if they knew nothing of each other, that they were just two kind strangers fortunate to meet.

“Mind if I play with you?” The little girl looked at Addy softly and nodded. Addy then sat down and asked the rules for what she was playing. The girl didn’t say anything but kept fiddling with the dice. She couldn’t say anything since she didn’t know what they were playing, if it was even a game at all.

Addy studied the little girl, the mannerisms she had and the focus on the dice in her small delicate fingers. Her younger version undulated, her face becoming blurry then quickly snapping to the face in the photo. Sometimes she would morph into her current self’s image and drift back to the girl in the princess dress.

Addy looked around at the space she construed. It was no longer the initial living room setup she imagined. The room had warped into an attic playroom. All four corners of the room were present and detailed. The ceiling felt low, no longer stretched out by her imagination. She took it all in, realizing she didn’t have to create this space. This room came back to her through memory.

She got up and opened the door. She was curious as to what would be on the other side, although she already knew. She looked out into a short hallway. A picture of geese taking flight was framed on the far wall. To the side of her were stairs going down into the kitchen. She walked forward to the end of the hall and approached one of the side rooms. This should have been her childhood bedroom.

It was difficult for her to visualize opening the door. She would put her hand on the knob and push it only for her mind to trick her and change it to a pull door. Sometimes her hand would phase through the door entirely. Spacial awareness was inconsistent in this realm of her imagination. It was like her mind was stalling on what it was going to show on the other side of the door.

In the struggle to map out the next room, she saw a flash of a humanoid character. It was a soft gray, the kind of gray she associated a large, soft mushroom to be. This character was a bipedal dragon with goofy proportions. It had a cartoon face that looked like it could giggle the whole day. She had seen that character before. But she couldn’t completely place her finger on it.

She opened the door and willed the character to appear. The dragon was the same height as her. The creature took one look at her and smiled hugely. In a low yet energetic voice, the dragon said, “Hey, long time no see! I’m so happy to see you again!” It opened its arms wide for a hug but after seeing her not reciprocate, lowered its arms. “Do you remember me?”

She opened and closed her mouth, struggling to get a word out that in some way said, “Of course not.”

The dragon folded its arms playfully. “I’m sure you do. You have to if I’m here. And I’m glad I am!”

Her mind was scrambling to figure out her connections to this dragon character. Then it clicked. A name came to her and the other associations did too. “Guffi?” she said at last. Her imaginary friend from when she was little came in for a hug. The embrace felt so real. Addy wrapped her arms around the dragon, squeezing as tightly as she could, feeling the substance of this other body.

“You do remember,” Guffi said. He pulled away, his scaly paws on her shoulders. “What brings you here?”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to tell you. It’s big-kid sort of things.”

Guffi nodded his head. “A place to run away to?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“You can tell me, by the way. Even though I may not seem like it, I understand the big-kid things, too. No one else will be able to understand you like I do.”

She gathered her thoughts for a moment. She could trust her friend that only ever had good intentions for her. “Have you ever felt like nowhere is safe? No matter where you go, you can’t feel at ease? You think that because you left a certain place you should feel fine now but you don’t? Like it wasn’t ever your environment, it was you all along because your demons still follow you? Yeah…I just want to go back and change it. But I can’t and now I’m stuck with the mess I can’t clean up for the rest of my life.”

Guffi solemnly said with a disheartening crack in his voice, “I get that.” A genuine and heartbreaking delivery made her feel completely understood. That one little moment was all she needed. It was what all she was looking for.

“There are so many things that have changed and I don’t want to deal with it anymore. I kinda wanna just run away from it all. Create a better life from the start and never look back.”

“You desire an escape. A familiar universe that is far enough away to not be recognized by your subconscious,” Guffi wisely said. “However, wander too far into this fabricated reality and you will become bound to this existence.”

“Really? How far?”

“When this world starts to become your primary existence. Then the spaces become distorted from your lack of exposure to the real world.”

“But as a temporary release?”

“Sure. As a temporary exploration.” Guffi smiled. “Where to first?”

She put her finger to her chin. “Let’s go somewhere I’ve always wanted to go! And I’ll take her, too!”

She led Guffi back to the playroom where her younger self was still playing. Addy opened the door and cautiously approached the girl. She knelt down, reaching a hand out to the girl. “You’ll need some fun in your life. You’ve always wanted to be a ballerina. Come on, I know where you can be one. Let’s live our dream.” The little girl clasped her tiny hands in excitement. “Let me take you away from here,” Addy said, hating the phrase as it was said to her before her life flipped. Her younger self was beaming, unaware of what followed those words. Her younger version jumped to her feet as she accepted her outward hand.

Addy stood up and the room shifted to form a wide, spacious ballroom-like hall. Large windows lined the front letting in the beautiful golden sunshine. The room was warm and elegant with vines and flowers decorating the corners. There was a grand staircase behind them with a golden railing.

Her younger self’s cheap dress grew into a lavish ball gown. The faded purple dye turned to a vibrant hot pink. Its tattered mesh skirt puffed out into a floor-length hoop skirt bedazzled with sparkles and rhinestones. The plastic tiara upgraded to a crown sitting atop a wonderfully polished hairstyle.

A lilting melody wafted through the air. Where it was coming from, it didn’t seem to matter.

Addy twirled her younger self, helping her start a sophisticated improvised ballet dance. She didn’t know a thing about a dance as cultivated as ballet but she let her heart lead her through what felt right.

She spun her past self around and around, then she let go, their fingers lightly brushing against each other until they were no longer tethered together. She watched her younger self spin and leap, flowing through each graceful movement like a gently winding stream rolling over stones. Guffi stepped next to Addy to watch.

“This is all she needs,” she told Guffi. “This was all she ever needed.” She wiped away a tear trickling down her face.

“She does seem happy,” the gray dragon said. He turned to Addy. “Do you think she’d have been happier if this was her life?”

She nodded, wiping away tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. “This was all I ever wanted,” she sobbed.

“The grueling pain of an artform such as this?” Guffi asked.

“Freedom. The feeling to let my inner self out without fear. The feeling of being able to move like that because my body can. The feeling of being passionate about something.” She sniffed. “Yeah, I’d have been a lot happier if this were my life.” She cast her eyes down then looked up the stairs. She grabbed the golden railing and started walking up.

Guffi looked at the dancing girl then up at Addy ascending the stairs. “Where are you going?”

She sighed. “To leave her to die. To leave both of us to die. If she stays here then this version of me who I’ve become won’t exist, and she won’t survive in the world without going through what I did. I’m ending our storyline on good terms, where it should be.”

“As much as you wish you could do that, that is impossible!” Guffi warned. She kept walking up the stairs, disregarding her friend’s advice.

There was a rumbling beneath Addy’s feet. She gripped to the banister and turned around. Guffi was shielding himself from an unseen danger. Her younger self was facing her, the face from the photo now a black swirling mass with two white dots for eyes. It had no mouth yet it spoke, “You’re just going to leave me here? I am a part of you. I am what makes you. You cannot ditch me in the depths of your mind. I am an entity of your creation. All of what you see is a production from your own imagination. What you think you see is not real. Wake up. You are just as broken as me, and I am but a figment of your subconscious.”

Darkness began to engulf Addy. The only thing she heard swirling around her was, “WAKE UP!”

She opened her eyes and sat up in her bed. She looked around the bland room she was in. This seemed like reality.

“I am a part of you,” she heard the menacing voice say in her head. “I am still here and I will not let you try to get rid of me.”

How are you still here? I’m awake, you should be gone!

“As much as you tap into your past, I am as much a part of you. Of course I don’t disappear when you leave this realm. This realm is your perceived existence, whether you are awake or not. You cannot escape me: your problem. You must learn how to deal with it and grow around it.”

She recalled what Guffi told her earlier. She closed her eyes and concentrated on a space for her and Gufi to interact.

Guffi flew over to her, gliding across the space. He was happy to see her again but concerned with what she may ask him.

“What exactly is this place?”

“Whatever you make of it. This form of escapism seems to be a liminal space for you to interact with and continue from when you last remember those good times. For you to time travel and improve your past. A self-deprecating cycle, if you ask me. You wish to change something you no longer have control over. You may feel better about a decision in this headspace but when you come back to reality you will long for what would have been.”

“Will this reality become my prison?”

Guffi smiled compassionately. “Only if you see it that way. In true reality, people have agency. They have the option to choose seeing their life as a prison. The more you see one as a freedom, the other will feel like a confining cell.”

“How do I fix it?”

“Unfortunately, there are no real time machines and no real way to fix your past. But you can improve your outlook on it. You have control over that.”

Behind Guffi formed a descending line of all of her previous selves. There was one for each birthday, one for each mistake Addy made, one for each bad decision she made, and one for each hurt version of herself. Addy looked down the line all the way to her younger version in the purple princess dress.

Guffi explained, “The first step is acceptance. Accept who you are. Accept everything you’ve gone through. And accept everything that has made you you.” She walked up to the first variant of herself, a her when she talked to her caregiver earlier that day. “How do you accept all these parts of yourself? Forgive yourself and those who may have wronged you. Forgiveness is freeing. It’s not easy but it’s worth the cost.”

Addy forgave herself and her caregiver. That version of her disappeared as a soft glowing light. Addy moved on to the next thing, Guffi guiding her along the way.

When she came to a particularly difficult version linked to a rough time in her life, she was having trouble forgiving them. “Guffi, I can’t do it. I just can’t forgive them like I did the others.”

Guffi kindly said, “First, recognize what you can learn from them. Once you’ve found that lesson, it’s easier to forgive.”

She thought about the takeaway from that given situation. She always looked back with a bitter taste on her tongue but it was a strange experience looking back with an optimistic attitude. She searched for a life lesson that was taught and eventually found one. “Thanks for teaching me that,” she said to that version and it faded away.

She persevered down the line, pushing through her emotional tumult of reliving some experiences she never wanted to ever again relive. But she looked for ways to grow and move on from them.

By the time she reached the young version in the princess dress, Addy was exhausted. She was on the brink of a migraine headache and her physical body ached. Her face was crusted from all the dried tears. “Guffi, I’m so tired. I want to go to sleep.”

“And I’m so very proud of you for making it so far! But one more for now. This is where everything stemmed from. This little version needs you the most.”

She gathered her last bit of strength before addressing the last variant. “Addy, you’ll change a lot over the years. You’ll be taught things by life that can only be learned the hard way. You’ll be so proud of your growth and you’ll also be appalled, too. You’ll make new friends and then you’ll lose them. You’ll watch them spiral downward without knowing how to help them. You’ll meet so many new people and then you’ll be torn away from them. You’ll miss out on admittedly so much but you’ll survive everything you’ll experience. You will get down on yourself and beat yourself up…a lot. But that won’t make you any less of a person. You’ll learn to move on. We’ll get there, I promise.” She sighed heavily. “I admire and envy your innocence. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me. But I forgive you.” The young girl faded into nothingness.

“I’m so glad you did it,” Guffi said, putting a paw on her shoulder.

“Wait,” she objected. “There’s still one more.”

She split in two, a copy of her exact self mirrored her. She looked at herself empathetically. “I forgive you, too.” Despite being drained of all energy, she felt a little more energetic. She didn’t feel so pressured by gravity as much and she was able to truly relax for the first time in years. The muscles in her face released a lot of tension she was never aware of holding. A slight smile crept onto her face and she welcomed that foreign sensation. She allowed herself to drift off to sleep.

“Thanks, Guffi,” she said.

“No,” Guffi responded. “It was all you this whole time.” The imaginary friend disappeared to the back of her mind.

You’re right, it was all me.

Addy woke up from her slumber feeling groggy. She stretched as she rubbed her eyes. She forced herself to roll out of bed and greeted her caregiver.

“You took a nap?” her caregiver said. Addy looked at them the best she could while still not being fully awake. Her caregiver clicked their tongue. “That’s just not like you. You’ve never just taken a nap.”

“Well, I’ve changed. People are entitled to change, whether for better or worse. You thought I’d still be the same little girl after all this time? After everything I went through? That same little girl never survived. She never would have. I had to adapt to make it through life. And maybe now taking naps is a necessary change for me to make it through the day. I don’t think that’s inherently bad. I think this change will help me get better.”

Her caregiver contemplated her statement. They smiled. “Well I’m glad you’re on the path to get better.”

“Thanks, Grandma,” Jenny said.  She had already forgotten her grandmother’s ramblings she was half listening to before.  Her tone wasn’t exactly grateful but it wasn’t exactly spiteful either.  I suppose her delivery was determined by the mood of the receiver.  At this given moment, Jenny’s grandmother was in a rather oddly cheerful mood.  She was able to ignore Jenny’s somewhat sarcastic tone.

Jenny moved in front of the tall mirror her grandmother gifted to her, viewing herself in the stained glass.  The rose color made her look like a princess—no, a goddess!  She posed, rotating her body to spectate all angles of herself in the pink reflection.

Jenny’s grandmother stepped between Jenny and the mirror, forcing the estranged teen to look her in the eyes.  “Alright, Jenny,” the old woman said, “here’s your gift for being such a great granddaughter!”  The old woman walked out of her granddaughter’s bedroom knowing very well she was able to match the teen’s level of sarcasm in her own way.

Jenny swayed, watching her hips fluidly move side to side.  She crept closer to the mirror, getting so close she could fog up the reflective surface.  She examined her skin, searching for any blemishes or pimples but couldn’t address a single blackhead on her nearly perfect epidermis–despite her mole fashionably placed above her lip on her left side.  She cleaned up her eye makeup then stared into her own irises.  She deeply admired her hazel eyes with dots of gold near her pupils and gray outlines near the whites.  She ploddingly turned her attention to her teeth.  Her smile was charming, as were her lips surrounding the dashing grin.  She believed that she had facial features most every girl wished they had.  She couldn’t help herself if she was genetically gifted with a face that made girls jealous.  And the rose-stained mirror accentuated those features making it seem like she was 10 times more beautiful than she thought.

Jenny didn’t know how long she had been admiring herself from her new mirror but every moment was worth it.  Her focus was drawn away only when her name was called.  She had to leave her room but not without a couple double takes in the mirror.  She had a strong new confidence in herself that empowered her persona.

Jenny saw her parents at their kitchen counter.  Her dad greeted her, “Bet you’re real excited about Grandma’s present.  We couldn’t talk long with her since she seemed to be in a rush to get out of here–wherever that woman had to be next.”

Jenny’s mother added, “That’s probably got to be the first time she hasn’t stayed for hours talking our ears off!”

“Finally,” Jenny exasperatedly exclaimed.  “She always overstays her welcome, interrupting our evening plans.  Glad she’s left so soon this time!”

Slightly shocked, her parents looked at her.  The stun of her statement left her words hanging in the air.  Then her father spoke, “And what plans do you usually have that she ruins?  What do you have going on tonight that you just have to tend to?”

Jenny couldn’t find an answer adequate enough to satisfy her parents.  “I just like my peace and quiet and solitude.”

“She likes to be tucked away in her room that she never crawls out of,” her mother sickeningly sweetly replied.

Irritated by the turned conversation, Jenny stormed out of the kitchen.  “And guess where I’m gonna crawl back into again?”  She shut her bedroom door and slumped on the edge of her bed.

She looked up where her mirror was.  It directly faced her and she caught a glimpse of her face with lines all over them from a frustrated frown.  Jenny immediately softened her facial muscles and sat taller.  No matter what her parents tell her, she had everything she needed right with her.  She was her only cheerleader, her only supporter, and her only individual she could trust.  She moved closer to the mirror, kneeling on the carpet.  “Only you get me,” she muttered to her reflection.  “We’re the only ones who understand each other.”  There was a twinkle in the reflection’s eye.  Jenny interpreted it as her own devious esteem showing through the windows of her soul, but, as the writer who can see the bigger picture, I know it was not what Jenny had thought.

Jenny blinked, then backed away.  There was a strange glint on her mirror.  She refocused her eyes so she can see the surface of the glass rather than the picture it reflects.  Upon closer inspection, there was a speck!  Jenny scrambled to her feet and snagged cleaner with a rag so she could eradicate the spot.  She sprayed the contaminated area and wiped the liquid away.  It left streaks she’d have to carefully wipe away.  She went to find the spot and locked in on the speck that was clinging to the glass.

In a mirror, I’ve easily observed the phenomenon of a space between the glass and the reflection when I put my finger on its surface.  But that phenomenon in a 2-way mirror presents itself differently.  There is no space between my finger and the reflection.  The speck on Jenny's mirror showed that it was obeying the rules of a regular mirror.  So were the cleaner and rag.  But when Jenny went to scratch the speck with her fingernail, something rather incomprehensible happened.  Her own finger and the finger of her reflection touched as if it were a 1-way mirror.

This occurrence went undetected by Jenny as she continued to clean the mirror’s surface.  She was able to wipe the speck off and clean the mirror with such efficiency that she maneuvered her perspective to see if there were any streaks or spots to clean but there was nothing viewable.  “So clean you could practically walk through it!”

Jenny stared into the mirror again, almost staring off past the mirror.  Her sight did something weird and instead of staring at the wall which the mirror was leaning against, she stared through the mirror into her opposite reality as if it were a window.  In fact…

Jenny yanked her hand away, unaware of it reaching for the glass.  She had just cleaned it, why would she dirty it with her fingerprints?

Jenny couldn’t turn her head away from the mirror.  She sat there in her mind and got thinking.  What had taken over her to impulse her to do this was a mystery.  Maybe it was her own thoughts this whole time or something else entirely.  Jenny put her palm against the freshly cleaned surface, her reflection doing the same.  She felt the cold glass on her skin as she pushed on it.  Due to Newton’s Laws, the mirror pushed back.  Jenny pushed harder, the mirror bending inwards.  She seemed to have a tug-of-war with herself from the other side of the glass.  She gritted her teeth as she fought against the weight pushing her back.

The coldness went away, being replaced by a warm and human feeling underneath Jenny’s hand.  She gaped at herself who had the same stunned expression.  Jenny on the other side of the mirror jumped backward and scurried away, horror filling its eyes.

Jenny had her hand through the middle of the glass, her fingers feeling the air on the other side of this portal.  She grabbed the frame and reached her other hand through, gripping strands of the carpet.  She crawled through, one exaggerated movement at a time to pull herself through.  Jenny stumbled over the bottom of the frame but managed to emerge on the opposite side.  She gathered her limbs underneath her as she stacked herself to stand.  She couldn’t believe it.  She was on the other side of the mirror.  She was transported to a mirrored dimension!

Her doppelganger was backed against the far side of the bedroom, its chest heaving up and down.  Jenny took a step closer and the mirrored double flinched as it covered its head in defense.  The reflection whimpered.

Jenny looked at the similar yet entirely new environment she was in.  It was her bedroom but it wasn’t.  She could wrap her head around the fact that it was her bedroom but couldn’t quite understand the feeling of everything being opposite.  She was still facing east yet she was facing the head of her bed instead of it being behind her.  The door was still to her left, though.  Until she turned around.  Then everything was backwards again in the layout of her mind.  She looked through the window of her room.  I say window now because, funnily enough, Jenny’s reflection was nowhere to be found in the glass, nor was Jenny’s double behind her showing up in the glass.

Jenny turned back around to face the mirrored girl who was her in this reversed reality.  The backwards twin fearfully shouted, “What do you want?”

Jenny reeled back insensitively.  “Ew,” she said, “is that really what I sound like?”

Jenny’s doppelganger looked past Jenny and pointed.  It slowly stood up.  “There’s no reflection!”

Jenny turned around to view her normal bedroom again.  “Yeah, because I’m standing right here.”  When she turned back around, she was startled by her reflection standing close to her.  They gazed at each other with no divider in between.  The two Jenny’s tilted their heads in unison, still mimicking movements.  Jenny was consciously aware of her own expression and it was full of wonder and curiosity along with the usual confusion.  However, her reversed counterpart was visibly stunned, nervous, and skeptical.

“You know,” the doppelganger said, “there’s two of us in this world and no reflection.  That means one of us has to be on either side.”

Jenny cocked her head.  “You’re right.”  She positioned herself slightly behind the opposite double.  “So I guess you’ve got to go!”  She sent her reflection sailing into the mirror, passing through the portal to Jenny’s familiar side.

Jenny stumbled the same way her reflection did, perfectly matching moves again.  Jenny’s legs seemed to jolt with every swift step towards the mirror.  Despite her horror, she looked at her reflection’s smugly confident face realizing her own face was the exact same.  It was not how she moved and she didn’t want to move like that.  She had no control!  The reflection said, “Thanks.  You have no idea what you’ve done.  Now I can make things right.”  Jenny was aghast when she discovered she was copying her reflection’s assumingly silent mouthing and actually was the one to say those words.  ‘Make things right’?  What needs to be righted?  The internal horror set in.  What have I done?!

Jenny, outside her own volition, sprang out of her room and pranced in the hall.  Jenny’s heart was thumping against her rib cage but her breathing was otherwise relaxed and so was her body and face.  She was smiling?  Jenny felt like she was on autopilot, her body doing things she mentally was not prepared for.  Her limbs were tied to strings as whomever the puppetmaster was had yanked her this way and that, performing a little dance.  Jenny hated dancing.

Wherever her body took her, Jenny fought against her actions with no avail.  She willed her brain to connect with her arms, her hands, her legs, her face, anything for them to move due to her own impulse.  She was numb and otherwise disconnected.

She came skipping back into her room.  She looked at herself in the mirror, her reflection posing, showing off her rather unflattering sides.  “By the way,” Jenny found herself spitefully saying to herself, “this room has always been so tacky!”  She started ripping down decorations in the reverse reality, watching out of the corner of her eye, her doppelganger do the same to her actual room.  Jenny wanted to sob, she wanted to cry out, she wanted to stop herself.  Anyone looking from the outside in would have never guessed that that’s how she felt; Jenny had the biggest and content smile as she refreshed her living space.

Jenny moved close to the mirror, both faces taking on a giddish grin when Jenny was sick to her stomach, repulsed.  The reflection mouthed as Jenny copied and was forced to say, “Now you know how I felt.  Doing and saying things that you don’t really want to or mean.  I’ve been forced to live in your shadow and that’s not how it’s going to be now that I’m in charge.”

Jenny was whisked out of her room again and met her parents in the living room.  Even though Jenny was going with the flow, she felt discombobulated in navigating the reversed reality.  Everything was backwards, she couldn’t expect a hallway because that’s where a wall was, vise versa.  She saw her parents and they were not the same.  Her mom’s parting in her hair was on the opposite side and her dad’s ring was on the other hand–everything was on the other side than it should be, to put it simply and obviously.

Her mother looked up, a confused smile on her face to see her daughter look for their company.  She studied Jenny’s face, her eyes becoming clouded by perplexity.  She cocked her head to the side.  “Has your mole always been on the right side?”

Jenny instinctively answered, “No, it’s always been here.”  Jenny’s hand found the left side of her lip where her mole has indeed always been.  This was her left side, did they all of a sudden see it on the “right side”?

“Huh.  There’s just something different about you and I guess I can’t put my finger on it.”

Jenny shrugged and sat on the floor against the couch next to her dad’s crossed legs.  Gross, why am I sitting on the floor?  That’s where all the foot traffic has been!  She noticed her parents observing her with an odd stare.  “So what did Grandma say to you guys?”

Jenny’s father answered, “Nothing, really.  She came out of your room in a hurry, walked by us in a hurry, and left our house in a hurry.  The only thing she said was that she’ll talk to us later ‘when things are right’, whatever that woman meant by that.”

“That’s so weird,” Jenny replied.  Her mind was swirling with her own thoughts since that’s all she could control now.  ‘When things are right’, ‘I can make things right’?  My evil doppelganger has her name written all over this!  Mom!  Dad!  Don’t trust anything she makes me do–don’t trust me!  She tried pushing out words but of course they would only make it as far as her brain.

“Good thing she was out of here quick so you could have the rest of the night all to yourself, though, huh?” her mother used her previous words against her.

“Nah, that’s okay,” Jenny said, feeling the blood rising to her face.  It was not okay, she was being forced to do things she didn’t want to do!  Like being around her parents.  “I did what I wanted to do for the night so now I’m free and I’m here.”

Her parents exchanged a skeptical look, then her father said, “What was it you had to get done?”

“Oh, nothing, just girl stuff.  You probably wouldn’t get it.  There will be less of that from now on, though!”

“Are you feeling okay?  You’re not the same Jenny you were 10 minutes ago–or for the past 16 years.  What’s going on?”

Jenny sighed and felt her eyes tear up.  No!  Don’t you dare make me cry!  I never cry, especially in front of my parents!  “I just want to say how sorry I am for being such a jerk.  I realize that and I want to actually make an effort to be better, starting right here.”  Jenny wanted to vomit.

Her parents were speechless.  “Did you bump your head on something or go through a traumatic near-death experience?” her mother asked.

“Nope.  Just deciding to be the real me.”  That was clearly her duplicate jabbing at Jenny.  She opened her arms and hugged her mom for the first time in years.  It was a prolonged hug, heart to heart, authentic.  Something roiled in Jenny’s stomach and it was warm and itchy.  She hated that feeling.  She couldn’t describe it but it was mushy and uncomfortable.

Jenny’s mother held her and nuzzled her nose in her neck.  She must have wanted to hug her daughter like this for a long time.  Jenny felt disgusted that her parents would fall for her fake display of emotion.  It was like they didn’t know her at all.  She’s trying to mislead you!  Jenny was mortified that her parents accepted her counterpart better than her true self.  Once she gets across that mirror threshold again, it would be game over for the fake Jenny.

Her mother pulled away and looked at Jenny’s face.  “Seriously, you seem…different.”

“Yeah, I bet I do seem like I changed,” Jenny was saying, “but really nothing’s different.”

“No, I see it now!  When you talked, your mouth favored one side and now you’re favoring the other side.  Weird!  It used to be the side away from your mole.”

“But my mole is in the same place.”  Her mother examined Jenny’s face again, a rebuttal ready in her mind, but decided to drop the topic.  Jenny’s knockoff made her lightly say, “Guess that’s what we get when I've spent all my time in my bedroom.”

“That’s okay.  At least you’re here now,” her mom told her.

“Better late than never,” her dad added.

It seemed Jenny’s parents were already in the middle of a conversation before she came up and her dad considered finishing it.  He was talking about one of his coworkers and what they had to do at work earlier that made him somewhat upset.  The small family then began a discussion about their day, inputting opinions and advice for each other.  Jenny didn’t share much because I guess the other Jenny had not much to share without spilling her origins from coming through a mirror and swapping places with their real daughter.

Jenny had actually learned a lot about her parents from this single night spent chatting with them.  She had never seen this side of them–she hadn’t even seen them as human beings outside of the house!–she never dared try to see them other than pesky hindrances to her personal space.  To her, they were just people she was forced to obey at the house and that’s where they had stayed.

By the end of the conversation, they each split to their separate ways, Jenny finally able to escape to her room.  She looked in the mirror and said to the reflection, “See?  I knew as much as you did about Mom and Dad.  They’re wonderful people!  You’re welcome!”  Then she crawled into her bed and tried to sleep.

Getting used to the new environment was difficult.  It was especially frustrating when the place was such a familiar area yet nothing was feeling like how it was supposed to!  The wall she usually slept next to was comfortably against her back.  But when she rolled to her usual side for sleeping, she was facing the wall, which was restricting.  When she finally eased herself in her mind, she started to drift.  But that was when the other Jenny got restless and flung herself into a new position.  Jenny didn’t get a wink of deep sleep.

What felt like the end of eternity, the sun came up.  Jenny rolled out of bed and groggily made her way to the mirror.  She whispered in her morning voice, “I slept nicely, did you?”  She chortled to herself.  “Who am I kidding, that was the worst sleep I’ve ever had in a long time and I feel that’s saying something.”

She quickly got ready for school, leaving out the lengthy process of putting makeup on, and walked into the kitchen.  What are you doing, imbecile?!  It looks like you’re sick and ugly with no makeup on!  I should have eyeliner on and it should be thick and sharp because I like the way it makes me feel.  I am not a blank canvas!

“Wow, you really are different!” her mother first said to her.  Jenny greeted “morning” as she dug through the cupboards for a quick breakfast.  “You look so pretty today, you’re like a princess, not a goth-girl.”  It’s not ‘goth’!

“I thought I’d try less.  You know, less is more.  Besides, it best suits my facial structure.”  This Jenny was going to get it big time.  How dare she hate on her makeup style and think what’s best for her?

Jenny’s mother asked if she was heading out for school, informing her on where the keys to her car were.  Jenny responded, “Actually, I’d feel more comfortable if you drove me today.  I had a rough night and it probably won’t be a good idea if drowsy me gets on the road.”

“Very responsible.  I’m still a little weirded out by the sudden difference in you, but I really like this new Jenny!”

Jenny’s mother dropped her off at school.  Even Jenny could agree that it was a smart decision to have someone else drive.  Even though she knew the way to school like the back of her hand, everything was opposite.  Instead of going left, she’d have to go right, and every time she’d need to go right, she’d instead turn left.  She would have had to quickly learn what it was like driving in a foreign country being on the opposite side of the road than what she was used to.  So she’s glad she wasn’t thrown in to figure that kind of thing out.

When Jenny passed people she knew.  They were more taken aback by the change in her fashion and lack of makeup that they didn’t acknowledge her protruding mole being on the other side of her face.  A girl from Jenny’s math class said, “Jenny, are you feeling okay?”

Jenny wanted to retort that she wasn’t feeling great because she was body-swapped and forced to be someone she wasn’t.  But instead she replied, “I just wanted to try something new, and, you know what, I feel better than ever without all those layers caked on my face.  I think I can actually have mobility in my character, not being forced to have the same RBF all day every day.”  Then she inexplicably did something she never did: she complimented on the girl’s horrid green sweater, saying it brings out the color of her eyes.  “You should wear that more often.”  Jenny never wanted to punch herself more than in that moment.

However, Jenny was grateful, for once, to exist without control.  She could sit back with her thoughts and let her reflection do all the work for the both of them.  She actually was astounded at how different education seemed from this mirrored dimension.  She was able to understand most written words if she took her time to decode the backwards letters.  Reading and writing was awful.  One kid even asked, “Feeling dyslexic today, Jenny?” to which she replied with, “I’m not feeling 100% today, but I’m up for the challenge.”

When it came time to write an assignment, Jenny was writing normally.  It looked right to her.  Then a classmate came by and exclaimed, “Woah, Jenny, it’s, like, mirrored!  That’s a cool talent!”  Then Jenny realized that what she was doing probably won’t fly by the teacher.  She reassessed tactics.  Jenny’s hands switched the writing utensil to her nondominant hand.  “I can be ambidextrous today, right?”  Her dominant hand held onto the paper.  The doppelganger must have been deep in excruciating thought whereas Jenny sat there motionlessly observing her hands.  She thought about what her duplicate must be thinking about.  She closed her eyes and sighed.  Jenny’s dominant hand started to move as her other hand held the pencil firmly down on the page.  She recognized that her hand motioned a ghost writing technique.  She opened her eyes to see writing that seemed foreign yet knowing exactly what it should say.

I highly recommend trying out this trick if you haven’t already!  To do this, I put a pen or pencil in my non-dominant hand, which would be my left hand, and hold it steady.  Using my right hand, I manipulate the paper I’ll be writing on.  I try my best to imagine I’m writing normally with my right hand.  Best results happen when starting the pencil near the bottom right corner.  The key is to isolate my brain from the confusion of my nondominant hand holding the pencil while my dominant hand writes normally.  It’s hard to do at first but once I split the difference, it’s quite simple.

Jenny double checked her work by pointing down her pocket-sized handheld mirror she had originally placed in her bag to fix her makeup throughout the day at her writing.  The image in the mirror didn’t make sense.  She flipped the paper over and all she did was write it upside down.  It still read normal for her, despite the terrible penmanship.  The struggle of having to determine which way to write was too much of a hassle for the unrewarding outcome.  It was too much of a tongue-twister for her coordination.

In a desperate effort, Jenny tipped the mirror and saw her own face.  She discreetly looked around.  “Okay, we have to work together on this,” she whispered.  “You’ve gotta help me.”  She winked at the little reflective glass.  Using the mirror, she was somewhat able to write.  The letters were now facing the correct direction–for the respective reality both Jenny’s were in–except the sequence of the letters in the word were backwards.

Now irritated, Jenny wrote normally.  She then copied the text, writing it upside down, matching the lines and curves to her original writing.  She double checked with the mirror once more and smirked.  Pfft!  Why didn’t she do that very first?  Jenny erased the familiar line.

After learning that shortcut, the day went by much smoother.  She would occasionally use the assistance of her little mirror.  The Jenny’s found their way through each other’s realities.

When her mother came to pick her up, Jenny was overzealous to retreat back to her room.  But she finally caught on that her puppetmaster had other ideas.  Once she got the chance, she would do anything to get back to her usual self!  Every new scene gave her a dizzying feeling as her brain reconstructed the layout of her surroundings.  She was getting tired of the lightheadedness.

They were back at the house and Jenny promised to hang out with her parents in the living room the rest of the afternoon.  She just had to drop off her bag in her room first.  So Jenny went to her room and dropped her bag on the floor.

The duplicate turned to leave her room when she caught her reflection in the rose-colored glass.  Her hand was supposed to be reaching for the door, her body turned, but she by contrast saw the Jenny on the other side turned sideways facing the other way.  It looked as if she was frozen from when she walked into the room.  The opposite Jenny walked up to the mirror to inspect the irregularity.  That’s when her reflection caught up to her.  It was as if nothing even happened.  She looked at her face, the face she was forced to see all her life.  She looked into her eyes, noticing her pupils dilate to the change of lighting.

Her reflection’s eyes contracted, somehow both pupils and irises.  Jenny flinched as she reeled back, the reflection doing the same.  The horror on her face should have shown in the glass but it was replaced by a sadistic smile.  Her reflection started crawling towards her.  “That’s not possible!” she shrieked.  “I would know!”

Jenny thrust her arm at the mirror and her hand phased through.  She came back out the same way she came in.  She stood, towering over her pseudo self.  “There’s only room for one of us here,” Jenny growled.  She lunged at her reflective embodiment, grasping its wrists to pin it down.

The reflection fought back.  She lifted her knees and kicked Jenny in the abdomen.  Jenny was flung back, releasing her grip making it so the reflection had a chance to crawl away.  Jenny grabbed its ankles and, despite its fight to wriggle out of Jenny’s hand, yanked it back and kneeled on its elbows.  She started to pound downward, wishing to ruin her own beautiful face.  “There’s been many days I’ve always wanted to do this!” Jenny shouted.  Jenny then picked up her reflection by the cloth at the back of its neck.  She threw it at the mirror.

The reflection caught herself before sailing through the portal to her own world.  She quickly turned around and used her boot to defend herself.  Each kick resulted in a crack as she struck Jenny’s swinging hands.  “You’re a monster!” she declared.  “What’s so wrong in looking outside yourself and giving other people that confidence you lack?”

Jenny grabbed her reflection’s foot mid-kick.  “You ruined my life all in one day!”  She tossed aside her doppelganger’s leg as she closed in, planning on shoving it through the magical mirror to where it belonged.

When Jenny put her hands on the knockoff’s shoulders, the duplicate spread her arms to brace herself from going back in.  “Pretty sure you've already done that with every day of our life!”  Jenny gritted her teeth.

“What is going on?!”  Her mother burst into her room, her father nipping at her heels.  Jenny looked over at them giving her reflection time to shove each other apart.  Both twins’ parents looked at the two Jenny’s–or, in the other Jenny’s world, the lack of Jenny’s.

The pseudo Jenny was quick to explain.  “Mom, Dad, I don’t belong here.  But, please, know I want to stay!”

“Don’t listen to her!  She swapped me places and wanted to lull you into a false sense of trust!  She came out of the mirror!”

Seeing their parents were baffled, the reflection added, “It’s true.  As you can see there is no Jenny in the mirror but two of us in front of you.  One of us is supposed to be on the other side and that responsibility’s mine.”

Jenny’s dad was near to fainting.  “What do we do?  What do we do?”

“Put her back,” Jenny bluntly remarked.  “I want my life back!”

“Which one’s the real one?” her mother said.  Her parents looked back and forth between the exact same girl.  “What side is her mole normally on?”

“I am the real Jenny!” Jenny announced.  “Get her out of here so everything can go back to normal!”

The other Jenny gently said, “I love you guys.  It’s okay if you want to send me back.”  I am the author for I should have no favoritism given my objective role but we all know that’s not true.  I am rooting for the reflected Jenny, you know, the nice one.

Jenny’s mom glanced at her, then at her fake, then back to her.  Both parents had worried expressions with guilt written all over.  “Send her back,” Jenny urged.

Her mother reached out and grabbed one of the Jenny’s shoulders.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

Jenny’s heart sank like the Titanic: slow and pained.  She felt the color leave her face.  She had never felt as alone as she did standing there, her own parents turning against her.  Her life really was ruined all in one day.  She blew up, screaming while gesturing overdramatically, “I am your own daughter!  You would choose a faux version of me over myself?!  She’s just a girl who came from the mirror!”  She curled her hand into a fist and attempted to swing at her replacement.

Her father said, “We want a daughter who appreciates us, those around her, and her own life.”

Jenny’s reflection mentioned, “Jenny, what kind of life were you living before?  I wanted to appreciate what I had, getting to know those around me, especially our own parents.  You’ve treated everyone as if they were worth less than dirt.  You’re not above anyone, Jenny.  You’d realize that if you’d stop focusing on yourself for once in your life and actually make an effort to step out of your self-inflicted misery.  Be honest, you know you’ve had it in you this whole time…but you decided not to.”  She then turned to Jenny’s parents.  “I know it’ll be an adjustment for me to live on this side of the mirror but I will do whatever it takes.  Trust me, it’s gonna be better for all of us.”

Jenny charged at her duplicate.  “You’re evil for thinking you can replace me!”

The new Jenny blocked the crazed ambush and used it against her attacker.  She managed to pin Jenny against the frame of the mirror in the same way Jenny did to her.  “‘Evil’?  The true evil one was the one who infiltrated the other side of the mirror first and then managed to break free of the pattern to crawl back through!”  One final push sent the evil Jenny to the other side of the mirror, forever trapped to her strings that controlled her.  Jenny took a levelheaded stance, proudly smirking at herself.

Jenny then explained the whole story to her parents, repeating whatever her reflection was saying.  Her dad asked, “You were both in the mirror.  Why did you go back inside?"  One thing neither Jenny’s had accounted for was which reflection truly controlled the other.  Reality would seamlessly match up regardless of which side was the controlling side for different individuals until Jenny created a blip in everyone's perception.

* * *

“Grandma?” Jenny called out.

Her elderly relative hobbled around the corner.  “Jenny, is that you?”  When her wrinkled eyes met her granddaughter's face, she questioned, “Did you do it?  Did you do it as I instructed?”

Jenny held out a wrapped shard.  “Sure did, Grandma.”

“It worked then!”  The old woman breathed a sigh of relief.

Jenny chuckled.  “Because unlike the other one, I actually listened.”  She recalled when she was trapped, mimicking her reflection’s behaviors, acting uninterested when in truth she was carefully listening to her grandmother’s instructions the other Jenny obviously missed out on.

“Now, Jenny, if you care then that means you’re listening.  One of you has to,” her grandmother had said when she delivered the gift to her granddaughter, “I swapped places with my reflection through this majestical mirror.  Only the controlling side can cross, however.  It shouldn’t take long since you’re so fixed on yourself.  I care about you, Jenny, and I want the best for you.  So whichever version is listening to me, switch to the controlling side, then destroy the mirror.  Make sure the twisted variant does not get back through.  I don’t know what consequences will happen to the very fabric of reality so make sure it doesn’t happen.  With luck, it shouldn’t.  But if it does, then my suspicions are correct.  The evil form should never be on the controlling side.  Break the mirror, Jenny, so the evil cannot come through!”

Jenny told her grandma, “There was one slight problem, however.”  Her grandma egged her further.  “The other Jenny was able to break the pattern, go against my control, and ruin the illusion of the reflection after being in the mirrored world.  She was able to crawl back through, Grandma.”

Her grandma’s face dropped.  “Worse than I suspected,” she muttered to no one.  “She must have realized her full potential.  Or possibly worse, she has only tapped into her potential.”

“What does that mean?”

“That Jenny was the evil one and knows what it was like to be in control.  She’s gonna want that back.  And she also knows she can cross worlds.  Thank goodness you destroyed that magical portal.”

Jenny next inquired, "Grandma, is everyone's controlling version on the same side of the mirrored dimension?"

"No.  That's what I was worried about, dear.  Individuals who are not in control will have a different experience than their controlling counterparts and I believe that will weaken the reflective connection the universe naturally has.  The evil Jenny has already figured that weakness out."

"What could that cause?”

“I don’t know.  But I don’t want to find out.  Jenny, make sure she doesn’t—”

“It’s okay, Grandma, I’ve got it covered.” Jenny thought, I really am the evil reflection?  What more can I do that I don't know about?

An original story by Denzlee Knudsen

all characters and scenarios are fictitious; not based on real people or events

Her parents have told her many times not to pass that yellow house on the corner.  She was even instructed to walk home from school on a route that took her longer, but it was safer because it steered clear from that mysteriously decrepit house.  But Angelica didn’t listen to her parents.  After a long day of school, all she wanted to do was go home.  She always passed that house, looking into its gaping hull through the broken windows.  She took a shortcut through the dry field behind the house giving her a straight shot to her neighborhood.  The trick, she figured, was to not let her parents find out about her rogue route.

After her classes got over for the day, Angelica intended on going her usual way around the old yellow house on her bike.  She remembered she had to tidy her home because her parents had guests coming over that evening, so getting home as soon as possible was a good plan.  Her parents told her to rush home so she can help with cleaning.  “Kelton’s coming over for dinner,” her mother said.  Kelton was a good family friend of theirs, close enough to being called part of their family himself, and was a well-known member in their community.  Kelton always brought something homemade to the places he visited whether it be for the market or for families he spent the evening with.  Angelica was looking forward to his visit.

She gawked at the peeling paint and sagging wooden roof as she pedaled past the house on the corner.  Her bike chain clinked rhythmically.  Angelica then heard some kind of irregularity in the chain.  Nervous that her bike might break, she slowed her pace, as did the clinking.  She intently listened as she kept moving.  Everything seemed to be in normal working order.  Her bike shouldn’t fall apart underneath her.  She went to resume her regular pace when she heard it again.  It was a soft clang that felt so near to her.  Angelica squeezed her handle breaks and set one foot on the ground.  She quickly inspected her bike but nothing seemed wrong.  She was about to start pedaling again when she heard a whisper in her ear.  She looked in the direction of the yellow house.  It seemed to be whispering to her.  “Aaangeeeeeeelicaaaa,” the breeze seemed to beckon.  Angelica walked her bike to the front steps of the house.

Overcome by curiosity, Angelica cautiously peeked inside one of the broken windows.  The house was gutted: no furniture, no decorations, not even a kitchen countertop.  The whole place was a blank square.  By Angelica’s account, her parents have warned her about the house because it is said that a murder took place inside it.  But officials have no evidence whatsoever of the rumor so it remains a complete mystery, nothing but a local myth.

Then Angelica realized that this was the closest she has ever been to the house.  She obeyed her parents enough to have never gotten too close but there was something nagging inside her now to explore it.  She’s come this close, she might as well keep going.  She could be quick getting in and out, right?  Angelica set her bike leaning against the porch steps.  Even though this house was a distance away from any of the other houses on the street, she still decided to lock her bike to the wood banister.

She tried the front door twisting the rusted handle, flakes of iron oxide falling to the ground.  She pushed in the door.  It wouldn’t budge.  She even tried pulling it to no avail.  She tightened her grip on the knob, twisted it, and braced herself as she slammed her shoulder into the door.  It opened with a crack! and she was in.

She stumbled inside.  When she found her footing, she rubbed her shoulder and said, “That’s going to leave a bruise tomorrow.”

Angelica found herself in the middle of the single open room.  She found places where furniture used to be from imprints on the dusty hardwood floor.  There used to be an island counter in one corner, a rug in another, some kind of side table in another, cabinets above where the island would be, and picture frames all along the walls.  One wall was where all the doors were.  Angelica simply counted four doors.  There were a total of 5 doors including the front door she came in from.  “I wonder how old this house is?” Angelica thought aloud.

Angelica was startled by a creaking floorboard whereas she stood still.  She whipped around to the direction of the sound.  Nothing.  The rectangle of light that the open front door was letting in became slimmer.  Angelica saw the door slowly start closing.  She suggested there could be a breeze but she heard no wind nor did she feel any.  She leaped to stop the door but it slammed aggressively before she could even reach it.  Slightly horrified, Angelica grasped the handle, twisted, and tugged at the door.  It was sealed like how she first found it from the outside.  She put her foot on the wall off to the side of the door and yanked, almost ripping both her shoulders out of their sockets.  She hunched over, wincing.  “That’s gonna be sore tomorrow!” she tried joking.

Angelica looked around.  That seemed to be the only way in and now the only way out.  The windows!  She rushed over to the windows.  They were broken, enough to let air ventilate but not enough for her to crawl out.  She sure would try, though!  She dusted the sill with the hem of her shirt and climbed up, glass crunching underneath her shoes.  She poked at a weak spot on the dangling glass and a pathetically small shard fell.  She assessed the hole.  It could be possible for her to go through, but she would have to be extremely careful so as to not touch the sharp edges.  She first put both her arms through the opening followed by her head.  The easy part was done.  She put her hands on the other side of the window frame.

A cold searing tingle coursed through her body.  Angelica fumbled and launched herself backwards into the house.  She looked down at her arm to find a bleeding cut 2 inches long on her upper tricep.  She sighed.  “Guess that’s not a way out, either.”  She sacrificed her good shirt and ripped the bottom of it to wrap around her arm.  “Thanks, Dad, for teaching me that when I fell during our camping trip.”

Angelica tried the 4 doors on the wall.  “Locked.  Locked.  Everything is locked!”  She leaned against the wall and slid down.  She would figure out how to get out of here, she just needed a minute.  She closed her eyes, tired all of a sudden.

Her rest was interrupted when she heard a scraping sound.  Angelica’s eyes snapped open.  The first thing she saw was a large pane of glass on the floor.  That wasn’t there before, at least, not that Angelica had recollected.  The scraping ensued.  Angelica rose as she witnessed this sheet of glass inch across the floor towards her.  As suddenly as it started, it stopped.  Angelica stepped closer.  Where did this come from?  Why was it moving—how? she thought.  She couldn’t help but notice how the sharpest point faced in her direction.

She avoided the glass on the floor as she shuffled to the door again.  A floorboard cracked and Angelica tripped.  Her body slammed into the door as she clumsily caught herself.  She stood upright and reached for the knob one more time.  She instantly felt an impact on her chest then went flying to the ground again.  The wind escaped her lungs when she landed.  Angelica frustratingly looked around to see she was all alone inside the house.  She couldn’t wrap her head around it.  It felt like something must have shoved her!  She was clearly the only one inside.

One of the doors along the wall creaked open.  Angelica looked behind her.  “Oh!  Now it’s open!  What makes you think I’m going to the obvious death trap?!” she asked no one in particular.  A loud banging on the front door followed by a raspy growl made Angelica scramble to her feet.  “That’ll do it, though!”  She ran to the now open door and slipped through.

She frantically felt around for a light or something that could help her.  Her eyes adjusted and she calmed down a little.  She was at the bottom of a set of stairs that went upward in front of her.  Up was better than down, she supposed.  Hopefully there would be more for her to work with wherever these stairs led.

She felt her way up the stairs through the darkness until she came to another door.  “Please, let this one be unlocked,” Angelica whispered.  She tried the door and, fortunately for her, this one easily opened.  On the other side of the threshold, Angelica was welcomed by the smell of wood and light from the early sunset coming through a small window.  There were gray tubs stacked in piles in a corner.  The exposed angled beams revealed that Angelica was now in an attic space.  “Well, this is no better than downstairs, how am I going to get out?”  She went over to inspect the tubs.  Inside were a bunch of matted stuffed animals.  She carefully dug through the tubs to find them full of nothing but plushies.  “There’s literally nothing up here other than toys!” Angelica exclaimed.  She pushed a bin away, accidentally tipping it over spilling its contents across the floor.  Angelica huffed, then went over to look out the window.

After viewing the field below her, she felt a new calm determination.  It was as if she needed a mental cleanse.  She sighed and turned around.  She almost choked on her swallow when she came face-to-face with a withered giraffe plushie somehow standing on its 4 legs by itself.  Its button eyes seemed to be looking into her soul.  She swayed side by side to make sure the thing wasn’t really watching her.  It stayed put.  Angelica felt she was losing her mind.  She wracked her paranoid brain to figure out possible explanations for what she experienced thus far.  She concluded that she was finally going crazy and it’s all because she disobeyed her parents by stepping foot in the cursed house and this is the universe’s way of rebuking her.

Movement from the back of the attic quickly caught her attention.  This time a little zebra plush was peeking around a bin almost paused in mid-motion.  Small movements started plaguing Angelica’s peripherals as her eyes darted from corner to corner to see what had moved.  Her heart was racing more now than if it hadn’t been the whole time she got trapped in the house.  It’s an illusion, you’re alright, she assured herself.

Angelica’s eyes fell on the giraffe in front of her.  There was no doubting it, the toy clearly moved.  It slowly raised its head then cocked it when those button eyes were looking at Angelica.  Angelica was too stunned to scream.  Panic welled inside her, blocking all function for her to make a sound.  The small giraffe lifted its front leg and stepped.  Then the other leg did the same.  The toy quickly learned how to walk and was coming for Angelica.  Angelica backed herself into a corner watching in horror as this worn out stuffed animal came marching for her.

The little plushie came as close to Angelica’s shoes and, without thinking how else to get out of the situation, Angelica kicked the giraffe.  The toy sailed all the way across the room.  Angelica breathed as her heart was able to ease off from thumping against her rib cage.

When the giraffe landed on the floor, all the other stuffed animals started charging at Angelica.  The ones on the floor stood up while the ones still in the tubs crawled up and out.  More just kept spawning from the bins and crawling toward their victim.  It looked like the buckets were overflowing with plushies and a cascading waterfall pushing them out.

Each stuffed animal that came too close to where Angelica stood was kicked away or stomped on.  But the army of plushies was getting too much for Angelica’s thrashing foot to handle.  She turned into the beams about to give up when she saw a metal dowel in the corner, blending into the texture of the wood.  “YES! Finally!”  Angelica naturally hoisted the rod like a baseball bat and started swinging at the toys with excellent form due to muscle memory from having participated in multiple sports.  She could easily hit 3 at a time, sending them flying through the air.  As she was whacking the toys, she said, “I don’t care that this was convenient, I’m just glad I have some sort of weapon!  Take that!”  Angelica spouted out things to say for every hit.  The plushies started piling up at the back of the attic and fewer were coming at her.

A small stuffed dog with stuffing leaking from the side of its neck came shuffling to Angelica.  Using the blunt edge of the rebar, Angelica jabbed the head of the toy and its seams ripped open.  The dog’s head toppled to the side of its body as shriveled stuffing poured out.  The chaos ceased, the other toys dropping to the ground.  Angelica clutched her weapon, preparing for the unexpected.  She looked around.  The toys were lifeless again, as they should be.  She looked down at the small dog, its innards now sprawled on the floor.  The stuffing had turned gray over time but in the center the color was darker.  The phenomenon reminded Angelica of burnt microwave popcorn.  The popcorn against the sides of the bag would be completely fine but the kernels in the core would be burnt.  But why did this stuffed animal’s insides appear burnt?

Angelica leaned closer to examine.  There was some kind of lump that shouldn’t have been inside a toy.  She poked at the stuffing with her foot and came across something hard.  “That was like when you’re eating something soft and then you get some kind of crunchy bit.”  She flicked the hard mass and it rolled.  It was white and oddly shaped.  The texture of the object seemed very similar to something Angelica hoped it wasn’t.  She took into account the object’s strange shape.  Horror crept into her eyes as her stomach dropped.  “I shouldn’t have made all those food references!”  She grabbed her stomach and cupped her gaping mouth.  She attempted to say her thoughts aloud but a gasp overpowered her words.  Her mouth was not connected to her brain as speech would not project from her lips.  Eventually she managed to harshly whisper, “That…that’s—that’s a—it’s a—a heel bone!”

Like crumbs being sucked into a vacuum, the stuffed animals quickly slid across the floor, collecting into one corner.  Angelica looked at the heaping pile of toys.  To her shock, she found a girl in a yellow dress among the pile of toys.  Her dark hair shrouded her pale face.  The girl’s ghastly eyes looked up at Angelica.  The girl opened her mouth and a dark liquid spurted out, dripping onto her dress.  Angelica let out a raw blood-curdling scream.  She turned and ran to the attic door, then, in her terrified torpor, ended up tumbling down the stairs.

Angelica landed on her rear at the bottom of the stairs, the rebar clanging as it flipped and hurled down the stairs.  Angelica covered her head with her arms as the rod clattered next to her on the ground.  She grabbed her weapon and flung open the door.  She bolted for the front door.

As soon as she touched the handle, a whizzing sound shot by her ear.  Wind tousled her baby hairs at the bottom of her scalp.  She ever so slowly turned her gaze to the side.  A shard of glass the shape of a dagger was lodged into the wood.  It was positioned so close to her that if she turned her head to the side, her nose would graze the bladed edge.  She swallowed hard.

She carefully turned around, avoiding the glass sticking out, putting her back on the door.  Her eyes wildly scanned the room and all felt still.  A drop of sweat rolled down the bridge of her nose.  She wiped it away.

Angelica was thrusted forward from behind, the sealed door bending into her back as yet again something pushed her away.  “...leave!” a child’s voice squealed.  There was something unintelligible said before, but Angelica could only make out the “leave” so she replied, “That’s what I’ve been trying to do!”

She ran to the next door beside the one leading to the attic.  The door was still locked so Angelica tried taking the knob off with her dowel.  She prodded the door until it was annihilated into shreds.  “Here’s ‘Gelica!”  She set her weapon aside so she could effectively kick the door in, managing to create a passageway.  She was greeted by yet another set of stairs in an even darker stairway.  This set of stairs led down to the basement.  “No,” Angelica said, “I am not going down!”  Then a light was turned on at the bottom, illuminating the space.  Angelica could only see boilers and a rundown washer.  In a shaky tone, she said to herself, “That’s obviously a trap.  I’m going to stay right here.  No way am I moving from this spot!”  She glanced behind her shoulder and there was that little girl’s haunted face peering through the hole Angelica created.  Angelica yelped as she jumped out of her skin and jumped down the stairs.  She lost her footing and slid down multiple steps before crash landing into the concrete corner at the bottom.  She looked up and the face was gone.

Now at the bottom recesses of the basement, Angelica pinned herself into the corner.  Having two walls encasing her back made her feel safe.  She could view in front of her leaving none of her sides vulnerable to surprises.  Another light further back in the basement turned on.  It was too dull to see the surroundings clearly, all the shadows casting eerie shapes.

Angelica heard a whispery voice call to her from the newly lit area.  “Help.”  The voice seemed so lifelike she was actually concerned if a human was trapped down here with her.  Angelica peeled her back from the cement and crept slowly to the back of the basement, keeping low.

Angelica softly called, “Is someone here?”  She held her breath so she could hear a possible response.

The voice responded, “Over here.”

Angelica followed the direction in which it was coming from.  She swerved around a nook surrounded by boards.  She was astonished at what she found.  The boards took the shape of some kind of cubicle, pictures and papers pinned to the inside walls.  She studied the content tacked to the cork.  Scraps from a newspaper read headlines and brief passages.  There were pictures that Angelica was not pleased to see.  “I can’t believe it,” she said, “the rumor is true.”  When she said it aloud, a wave of goosebumps covered her arms and a shiver went down her spine.  She shook the feeling and delved into reading the newspaper clippings.  Angelica mumbled the titles as she read.  “‘Yellow House Haunted?’  ‘Missing Girl from County Over; Murder Suspected’.  ‘Who’s to Blame for 12-Year-Old’s Disappearance?’  ‘Case of Missing Girl Remains Unsolved; Case Turns Cold’.  ‘Who Remembers the Disappearance of Longhouse Girl?’”  She then read some of the highlighted passages.  “‘A group of teen boys trespassed onto the house’s property.  They claim to have witnessed paranormal activity.  With no sustaining evidence, this can only be classified as a hoax or teen prank’.  ‘News of the missing girl from the next town over has spread rapidly, leaving the townspeople in a fright.  Rumors suggest that the girl wound up in the decaying yellow house, a popular place for people to fantasize of a dark history.  But investigation concludes that there is nothing strange about the otherwise strange house’.  ‘Whether this girl is found alive or not, we will not stop looking for her, says county sheriff’.  ‘All tracks and findings for this girl have come to a dead end.  There is not much else we can do other than hope and pray for another lead to pop up soon’.  ‘Despite the heartbreaking disappearance, few attended the girl’s memorial’.”  She noticed that each clipping was from a different newspaper each published a decade ago.  Some newspapers she recognized as being her local paper, whereas the others were unfamiliar to her.  She concluded through context clues that they were from the neighboring town.

Angelica then turned her attention to the pictures.  There were multiple taken of the house, its vibrant yellow paint showing up clearly in the snapshot.  Another house she hadn’t seen yet was put on the board as well.  There was an address taped to the photo.  It resided in another city.  The picture next to it was of a family portrait, a beautiful and happy scene.  One of the girls in the family had an “X” etched over her face.  Angelica snagged the family portrait from the cork board, inspecting the quality.  She flipped the picture over.  On the back, there was writing.  It showed “the Longhouses” along with a year.  “This was over ten years ago,” Angelica said.  “What’s the name of the missing Longhouse girl?”

“Venna,” a childlike voice solemnly said.  Angelica dropped the picture she was holding and whirled around to face the phantom that had followed her.  It was the same pale face that she had been seeing.  The girl in the yellow dress was standing extremely close to Angelica, almost easy to mistake as a real person if it weren't for its pale translucent eyes.  Angelica’s first instinct was to swing her metal rod but, when she didn’t feel it in her hands, she sprinted to the stairs.  The phantom called out to her, “Come back!”  All the lights in the basement faded away and some bulbs burst.

The apparition rose from the ground in front of the stairs, blocking Angelica’s escape.  “I need your help!”  Angelica pivoted and ran the opposite direction.  The teleporting apparition appeared in front of Angelica blocking her path again.  “Please, help me!”  Her wails for assistance pierced Angelica’s ears putting her in fight-or-flight mode.

Angelica fell to the ground in a protective ball then started crawling.  She scuttled against the wall, now cornered.  Her chest heaved in and out rapidly.  The little girl moved closer, hovering above the ground.  Her dress faded away at the bottom and her feet were nowhere to be seen.  In a gentle and helpless plea, the phantom girl begged, “Please.  You’ve gotta help me.”

Angelica squeaked out, “Help you with what?”

The phantom responded, “Avenge me.”

Angelica burst out.  “WHAT?!  That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!”

“Please!  You’re my only hope!”  Angelica was scurrying away but the ghost was persistent.  “I have been forgotten, nobody cares about me anymore!  They all gave up on finding me.  You can help bring me to peace.”

Horrified, Angelica asked, “Why me?”

“Because I’ve seen your face.  And you walk by this place every day.  Surely you’d be one to believe me!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I believe you’re dead, alright,” Angelica automatically responded.

“No!  Believe my story–I know you will believe my story!  I was killed.  In this house.  By a murderer.  I fear the killer will strike again—”

“Yeah, I added that up thus far,” Angelica flatly interrupted.

The ghost shook her fists.  “If you care for your safety then you’ll listen to me!”

“Listen...”  Angelica couldn’t find an appropriate name to call the figure in front of her.

“Venna,” the ghost girl said.

“Venna,” Angelica repeated.  “I do and that’s why I want to get out of here as soon as possible!  But someone, whom I can only assume has been you, has been keeping me here, throwing sharp lethal things AT MY FACE!!”

“I had to keep you from leaving so you could stay and hear me out,” Venna simply replied.

“That’s a little manipulative, don’t you think?” Angelica fired.

“How else was I to get you to—”  Venna was interrupted by a sound upstairs.  There was a loud crack! with footsteps afterwards.

Angelica whispered, “That’s my way out!”  She scrambled to her feet and shouted her location.  Venna was swift about clasping her ghost hand over Angelica’s mouth, silencing her holler.

“Listen to me, that intruder is not good!  Believe me when I say he is bad news!”

Angelica walked through the figure’s tangible arms.  “How come?”

“That intruder was who brutally took my life and disposed of my body.  He’ll do the same to you if you’re not careful.”  Angelica looked at Venna with nothing to say.  “I had thought you would believe me.  I guess not.”  The apparition turned around and went back to the far end of the basement.

Angelica chased after Venna.  “Wait!  Okay, I will believe you, how’s that?”  Venna looked at Angelica then knocked over one of the cork boards.  It loudly clattered, echoing in the hollow basement.  Angelica rushed to the fallen board, scolding the ghost.  She lifted it up, a single picture on the back catching her eye.  She got a closer look, using the little reflected light in the dark area to view the picture.  Angelica almost dropped the board herself.  She yanked the picture from the thumbtack that it was pinned to.  The picture on it was the last thing she was expecting.  It was her most recent family picture: her dad, mom and self in front of blossoms.  They were posing piggybacking on top of each other with huge smiles, mid laughter.  There was a white “X” etched over her own face.  She turned the photo over and her name was written in marker.

“I was lured from my home and brought here by that two-faced man,” Venna explained.  “This place was the last place I’d see in life and the place I’ll forever stay.  My hope for you, Angelica, is that you will escape successfully.”  Angelica had no power to speak yet.  Venna continued, “Truth is, I’ve seen this guy craft and plot how he will get to you.  I know his plans.  I will aid you in escaping but you must listen to me, no matter what.”  Angelica slowly nodded her head, unaware of her shaking body.

Upstairs, a swift clang rang through the house.  Angelica immediately recognized the sound of the rebar.  Panic welled inside her, her heart beating quickly.  She felt in actual peril, like her life was really on the line.  Before, she had felt unsafe and uneasy but now she felt a deep sense of dread she couldn’t shake.  It wouldn’t be that long before her possible killer would find her, right where he wanted her.  Angelica checked her breathing, unable to control it from a hyperventilating level.

Venna told her, “You charge at the man giving it everything you’ve got.  I’ll take care of the rest.”  Then the phantom fizzled away.  Angelica was left on her own with no other instruction or words of encouragement.

Angelica took a deep breath, furrowed her eyebrows, then booked it up the basement stairs.  She yelled as she burst through the door, spotting the intruder.  She was ready to pounce at him but when he turned around she couldn’t help but back down.  His soft wrinkled features on his face were written with some kind of worry and longing.  The delicate look in his eyes showed he was a safe space for a person.  His smile lines were framed by soft graying hair.

“Kelton?!”  Angelica’s fears disappeared and the overwhelming sense of dread left her.  Finally, a familiar and friendly face!  Angelica ran up to Kelton and hugged him.  She let her stress soak into his overalls as she nuzzled into his shoulder.  Kelton warmly hugged her back.

Kelton said, “Angelica?  What are you doing here?  We were worried sick at where you had wandered off to.”  Angelica remembered the dinner her parents were stressing over and then how much her disappearance might have stressed them out more.  “It’s all good now,” Kelton said, “I found you.  If it weren’t for your bike, you may have been lost forever.”

Angelica mumbled her apologies, rambling about how she thought she made everyone feel.  “Now I can go home thanks to you.”

It wasn’t a question Angelica had asked but Kelton responded as if it was.  “Yes.”  The way he said it made Angelica uneasy.  She pulled away in enough time for Kelton to be tackled to the ground by an unseen force.  He was wrestling against air, struggling to even get up off the ground.  Angelica hadn’t noticed that he had one hand behind his back the whole time and only was brought to her attention when he landed on it in some awkward and, what Angelica could only guess, uncomfortable position.  His arm was pulled out from underneath him revealing him clutching the rebar.  His grip insinuated that he was planning on using it as some sort of weapon.  In what ways, Angelica did not want to know since she predicted it would be used against her.

Venna’s disembodied voice shrieked, “What are you doing?!  Get him!”

Angelica sprung into action despite her inner self not wanting to.  She wrapped her hand around his frail yet burly wrist and pried the metal rod out of his grasp with the other.  “I’m sorry.  I just don’t want you with anything that could be seen as a threat.”

Venna must have gotten off of him because he dusted himself off and stood up, towering over Angelica even though he was a couple inches taller than the teen.  “Angelica,” said Kelton, “I would never use anything to hurt you, you know that.  You can trust me.”  Venna was whispering into Angelica’s ear telling her not to trust him.  Kelton’s voice was gently low and steady.  “But seeing that you have that metal bar now, you might accidentally hurt both of us.  Not saying I don’t trust you but you better give it here into steady hands.”  His hands were gradually reaching for the dowel Angelica held.  He began wrapping his fingers around the bar.  Angelica pulled back.

“No.”  Angelica stepped away from who she thought was her friend.  “I know you, Kelton.  And I know you know me.  You’ve come to enough of my many sporting events to know I have a great handle on wielding something like this!  And don’t you forget it!”

“Angelica, what is this about?  What do you think is going on?”

“I don’t want to believe it but there’s nothing telling me it’s not true.”  Angelica swallowed, choking down a sob.  Her heart broke as did her trust when she forced herself to say, “I know I’m next, but I won’t let that happen.  You have been able to deceive everyone.  I’ll make sure everybody sees the real side of you!”  She held the weaponized metal more affirmative than ever.

Kelton sighed, unphased by the teen’s threats.  A mask melted off of him revealing a version of Kelton that Angelica never thought she’d see.  “Too bad not even that piece of metal is going to save you, though.”  Kelton dropped to the floor on his hands and knees, his chewed fingernails searching for something in the floorboards.  Angelica defensively demanded he explain what he was doing.

Venna even said, “I have no idea what he’s looking for.”

Kelton got his fingers underneath a piece of the floor and pried it out with sheer strength.  The floorboard hinged with a crack.  Kelton reached in and pulled out a small hand-held circular saw.  He said, “You were a nice girl, Angelica.  And you’re smart, too, I’ll give you that.  Shame it has to come to this.  You would have been naive until it was too late–just like the rest of them.”  He found a way to turn it on and the shrill hum of the wheel spinning filled the space.  Kelton had to yell over the power tool.  “Ordered this just for you!  If you’re lucky, it will be quick, easy, and painless–that is, after you lose consciousness from the pain and blood loss.”

The panic Angelica felt earlier was nothing compared to the terror she felt now.  Inferior to the spinning saw, Angelica backed into the wall.  She shrieked, “Why are you doing this?!”  She was a weak rabbit cornered by a ravenous wolf.

Kelton monotonously answered, “Because why not?”  He jabbed the power tool at Angelica aiming for her stomach.  Sparks flew as the blade grinded against the rod Angelica had used to block the saw.  Kelton raised the tool then swiped down on top of Angelica.

Angelica quickly raised the metal in front of her face with both hands to block the blade again but the strike never came.  She lowered her arms and found Kelton writhing on the ground, the power tool, still powered on, barely in his hand.  His wrist had a knick in it from the saw.  Venna’s appearance faded in and out and undulated in different parts of her.  She had this large man pinned underneath her with her hands pressed down on his throat.  The apparition looked to kill.  Kelton’s wide eyes expressed shock.

“You’re coming down with me!” Venna spat.

Between strained gasps Kelton said, “You’ll be no better than I am if you kill me.”

Venna got off him and kicked the circular saw away from Kelton’s reach towards Angelica’s direction.  Venna then maneuvered Kelton’s body weight so he was pinned against the wall.  “RUN!” Venna screamed.

Angelica didn’t hesitate this time.  She took the saw and busted out of the house, cutting a chunk away from the wall that neighbored the latches, before turning the tool off.  She ran outside to the chilly night.  Wind was blowing, giving her fresh air for her tired lungs.  She undid her bike lock and sped off, circular saw still in her hand.

Back in the house, Venna was losing her energy.  She did all that she could to draw from her returned killer in hopes to strengthen herself and wear out the man.  He was still on his feet but leaning against the wall.  Kelton taunted the apparition, “You’re still around, even after death?  Thought I got rid of you the first time.”

Venna said, “I’ve been trapped in this house because of your doing!  I’ve never gotten that proper goodbye to life because of you!  I’ve seen all that you’ve done and the lives you’ve ruined without people’s knowledge.  Everyone else may see you as a nice guy but I’ve seen who you truly are: a monster!”

Kelton coldly responded, “I know. I'm no stranger to the dark subjects of this world.  I’ve felt your presence all this time.  You’ve been trying to get back at me but it’s not going to work.”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” Venna growled.

“And I never was afraid of you, even now.”  He was taunting the phantom with a sly, sadistic smile.  “They say this place is haunted, eh?  People wouldn’t be so scared if they knew it was haunted by a nobody.”  Venna shrieked and commanded all the scattered glass on the floor to fly at Kelton’s head.  Kelton reprimanded, “You know if you kill me now you will never get the vengeance of bringing me to justice and you won’t get your rest!”  The specks and shards of glass halted in the air right in front of his face.  Venna let it all drop to the ground.  Kelton simply brushed the fallen pieces off his shoulder.

***

Angelica pedaled home as fast as she could.  When she rounded onto her street, she saw her parents holding each other talking with police.  She ditched the bike and sprinted over.  “MOM!  DAD!”  Her parents turned to her direction and the dark circles under their eyes suddenly filled with vibrant colors of hope.  They ran to her to embrace her.  Angelica held out an open palm indicating for them not to come any closer.  She presented the power tool she still held with her other hand.  The police came over and took the tool out of her hand.  She was bombarded with questions and she tried to answer each one as quickly as she could before the next question was asked.

She ceased all nagging from her parents and the officers.  “I have something to say.  Admittedly, it sounds highly unlikely but you have to believe me!”  They allowed her to share.  “I know what happened at the yellow house.  The rumors are true–all of them!  I got caught where I shouldn’t have gone and I was almost killed with that!”  She pointed to the circular saw that the officers were holding.  “It was the same person who killed that missing kid nearly 10 years ago!  I can prove it, go there now or you’ll never believe me!”

After some scolding from her parents, the group listened to the teenager.  They followed her to the yellow house.  When they got there, Kelton was sitting on the porch inspecting Angelica’s bike lock laying in the grass.  He looked up with his usual tender face.  A face that once soothed Angelica but now it plainly disgusted her.  He came trotting over and hugged Angelica.  “So glad that you were found, Angelica,” he announced.

“Don’t you dare even put on that act.”  She pushed him away, feeling sick.

Kelton softly grabbed her arm but his fingers dug into her already bruised skin.  He muttered under his breath to her, “Nobody’s gonna believe you so you might as well play along.”

“Or what?”  Angelica felt something sharp poke against her spine.  As quickly as it came, it left.  “So you’ll stab me in front of everyone proving my point?”

Kelton retracted his pocket knife and put it back in his pocket, his keys jingling inside.  “I can lie to make you look foolish if you try anything.  I’ve done that pretty well so far.”  If Angelica couldn’t openly testify, she would make the officers find out for themselves.

Angelica's father approached Kelton.  He gestured to the cut on his wrist.  "What happened to you?"

"Well, I had a run-in with a twig back in the woods when I was looking for Angelica.  Turns out that bugger was looking for blood and guess it got mine.  It's nothing but a surface scratch, though.  Anything for your daughter."  Angelica's dad thanked the man for his willingness.

One of the officers went with his flashlight towards the property.  The officer said, “She sure was here.  This is her bike lock.  And a good fight must have been put up because I ain’t seen this house looking so roughed-up.”  The officer nodded to the broken down front door.

The other officer pointed out the saw blade he still had in his hand.  “But who had this when you were almost killed, little lady?”  Without waiting for an answer, he stepped inside the house.

Kelton ran up to the officer in the house.  “How can I help, boys?”  He was instructed to look for anything that would be a clue.  He disappeared into the house.  The officers told Angelica's parents to stay outside while they investigate.

The officers asked the terrorized teen for more information.  “The attic!” Angelica blurted.  “Don’t underestimate those stuffed animals.”  So the officers went up the stairs, Angelica following close behind.  The pile of toys had moved to the middle of the floor.  The small dog with its missing head still sat where Angelica remembered it had fallen.  She walked over to the dog and pointed.  “Look.”  The officers put on purple gloves and inspected the out-of-ordinary toy entrails.  They found what Angelica had found earlier: a bone.  They mentioned that it was just a fragment remain of a body.  Angelica suggested, “There’s a lot of stuffed animals up here.  I’ll bet if one bone was found in one of these things then other bones will be found in the other toys.”  The officers dug in the pile and started shredding the stuffed animals.  One officer’s toy he was tearing apart dropped something hard.  Upon further inspection, it seemed to be another bone from another part of the body.

Astonished, the officers congratulated Angelica’s astute find.  They picked up more and felt around each toy, squeezing it in their hands.  "If every single one of these toys had a fragment or bone in them," they said, "there could possibly be enough to construct a whole skeleton."  They said they would send more people to run diagnostics on the fragments.  "In order to chop a person up to get them into little pieces like this, they'd need a lot of time on their hands, and a very accurate and powerful tool.  Kinda like that circular saw you had."

Angelica told them there’s even more compelling evidence in the basement.  She led the two law enforcers down the stairs.  She took them around the dark corner, their flashlights illuminating the pitch black basement.  Angelica pointed to the cubicle made out of cork boards.  "Here's where I think you'll find the most groundbreaking proof."  But when they panned their lights over, the basement was completely empty.  Angelica mumbled her disbelief.  "There were newspaper clippings and pictures with my face crossed out, what happened to all of it?"

The officers consoled her saying, "You have shown us enough evidence to reopen the missing girl murder case.  That's all we needed, and we'll have people investigate further, don't you worry."

"But, Officers," Angelica pleaded, "there was more and someone very close within the vicinity tampered with it from the time I escaped to right before we got down here."  The police told her to rest easy for now.  "Kelton," she growled.

The three went back upstairs to regroup.  Kelton walked out of the very far door, putting his keys back in his pocket.  The cut on his wrist was wrapped up with proper bandages.  Angelica made eye contact with his suddenly guilty stare.  The officers informed him of their findings and asked if he noticed anything. 

"See anything in that room, Kelton?" Angelica pried.  "I mean you've seen more than I have because three of the doors were locked, that's why I had to literally break through the one to the basement, so since you were easily able to get in, you've had to have seen something good, right?"

"Kid's got a point, Kelton," one of the officers said. 

"You wouldn't mind if we took a look in that room then?" the other officer said.

Kelton backed up ever so slightly to block the doorway.  "Well I just searched in there and if there was anything worth mentioning, I would have told you right away."

The officers managed to barge past Kelton and swing open the door.  It was an empty bedroom with no furniture, matching the rest of the gutted house.  The only things in the room were the cork boards, pictures still attached, leaning up against the wall.  An officer told Angelica, "I'm starting to connect the dots now."

One of the policemen meandered around the room, inspected the contents of the boards, then picked up a roll of bandages in the corner.  “Can you show me your cut?”  Even though Kelton’s long sleeve covered the tan colored bandages, it was still viewable to the officers.  “Where did you get those keys?”

At first Kelton denied ever having the keys, playing the ignorant card.  “Oh, you mean these?”  He fished them out of his overall pocket.  “I found them in a hidden nook along with the bandages.  I thought it all might be useful so I used them.”

Angelica asked, “Where?  What ‘hidden nook’?”  She went over to the middle of the main room.  “Same nook you knew where the circular saw was hiding?”  She stomped her heel down on a floorboard and it flipped open with a pop.  “I had to get resourceful when I got cut on a piece of glass by using my clothing.”  Angelica had a sly smile of her own.  “Might as well confess now.  Things aren’t looking too good for you.”

Kelton shouted back, “How can I confess to something I wasn’t even aware of?  I was in the woods looking for you!”

“The bathroom…”  A familiar faint whisper traveled to Angelica’s ear.

“What’s in the next room?” Angelica asked.  The officers obtained the keys from Kelton and unlocked the door.  The first officer peeked in and the second officer after the first put his arm out behind him, pushing Angelica away.  The policemen seemed horrified at what they were revealed to.  All they said was confirming that something hostile took place in this house.  They refused to let Angelica know since she had “seen and been through enough that night”.

The two officers pulled Angelica outside of the house.  Her parents crowded around their daughter as the officers asked more questions.  One gently said, “You obviously know who did it and who tried to hurt you.  You’ve been dragging us on a treasure hunt rather than saying who did it.”

“Seeing is believing,” Angelica firmly mentioned.

The officers continued, “You’re not telling us explicitly and we think we know why.  We have our suspicions as well but we want to hear it from you.  You won’t get in trouble for saying it aloud, we promise.”

Deep down, that dread came back.  These enforcers were doing their very best in believing her and vouching for her, and she was overly grateful for their efforts, but could they really protect her from a dangerous lying killer?  It was her parents that pressured her more to confess who tried to harm her.  Understandably, they would of course want to have known who was responsible for threatening their child.  Even though she was far from Kelton, she somehow felt his stare at the back of her head.  Angelica sighed and sheepishly said barely above an audible level, “The man inside the house did it.  He’s responsible.”

Her parents exclaimed, “Kelton?!”

Her mom said, “There’s no way!  Kelton’s such a nice guy, I can’t even see him killing a spider!”

The officers rebutted, “Ma’am, the most dangerous child predators are notoriously shifty.  They would be the people you’d least expect.  It’s always good to err on the side of caution also while taking what victims say with a grain of salt.  But Angelica’s been spot-on in presenting her case and showing us the things she found, she’s telling the truth, no doubt.”  One officer left to retrieve their squadron car while the other kept an eye on the situation until his partner came with the car.  Kelton was handcuffed to the porch railing.

Angelica cautiously approached the shackled Kelton.  He said, “I ain’t confessed to nothing yet, you got nothing on me.  Nobody else will believe you when this is brought up in court.  My reputation speaks for itself.”

Angelica plainly replied, “Your reputation is a great alibi.”  They waited in silence.  Then Angelica said, “Tell me why you did it.”

Kelton smiled with his lips–a twisted grin–but the expression didn’t carry into his eyes.  “Because once you get away with something one time, you try to see how long you can keep getting away with it.  After all, isn’t not getting caught the goal?”

Angelica instantly thought back to her parents’ warnings.  For how long did she go behind their backs without getting in trouble for it?  It was that one time of unfortunate peril that got her trapped into this mess now.  But that wouldn’t have happened if she had never walked past the yellow house at all this whole time.  She had to have known she would get caught at some point.  Was she only sorry for herself because she finally did get caught?

The officer pulled up in the cop car.  He got out and headed over to his companion.  They had obtained the newspaper clippings and began examining them.  Angelica could feel a nagging presence around her.  Chills ran through her body, not down her spine, but rather left to right.  “There’s something more,” she abruptly said.  “I feel…there’s more in the house.”  She paused, feeling Venna’s presence next to her.  “Not the house but inside the house, but not the house itself.”  She was confusing herself, expressing the same face everyone else had.  “The way to the house?  Not the porch.”

A child’s voice, not belonging to anyone nearby, lightly exclaimed “The door!”  The officers and Angelica’s parents were stupefied after hearing the disembodied voice.

Angelica quickly sprang up to the front door.  “There have been secret hiding places throughout the house, I wouldn't be surprised if there was something in the hollow space in the middle of this door!”  They found a way to split the door open, revealing a rusty bone saw sandwiched between the two sides of the wood.  The discoloration was not entirely due to the rust.  The handle had a name inscribed.  It read: Property of Kelton Walsh.

The officers lugged Kelton into the car saying, “You are under arrest for the abduction and murder of Venna Longhouse, and the attempted murder of Angelica Valesquez.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say will and can be used against you in a court of law.”  They loaded the guilty man into their car and sped off.

Angelica felt at ease now but a pang of guilt stabbed her heart.  She knew this man ever since childhood.  His interactions with her and her family never were malevolent.  What her mother had said seemed true before: Kelton seemed like the kind of person to not be able to kill a spider.  And yet he had brutally murdered and disposed of an innocent, unsuspecting little girl.  Who knows how many other victims he got his hands on.  He would have done the exact same to Angelica if she hadn’t had help from her ghostly companion.

Angelica peacefully watched the sunrise sitting on the yellow house’s porch.  She looked over to her side and found Venna sitting with her.  Venna looked at Angelica, her pale and creepily sickening ghost-like features faded away.  Behind that mask, her true face was revealed.  She had big gray eyes and rosy cheeks.  Angelica had never noticed the blue ribbon in her jet black hair before.

“He will be behind bars for a long time,” Angelica told the phantom.  “He will most likely get a court trial but I’m confident after everything we were able to find, there’s enough evidence to incarcerate him now.”  Venna nodded her head contently.  “Thank you for all your help,” Angelica said.  “I now see how you were trying to help instead of torture me.”

Vibrant colors of light slowly rose from beyond the horizon, the sun not yet visible.  Angelica heard Venna sigh, a sound so invigorated yet relaxed.  She looked over at Venna who said, “I can never thank you enough, Angelica.  Thank you for giving me my peace knowing that that bad man will no longer hurt people like me and you.  Thank you, thank you, thank you…”  Venna kept repeating that phrase over and over again until first rays from the sun shone over onto the field.  Angelica closed her eyes, basking in its warmth on her skin.  She looked back over to where Venna used to be.  In Angelica’s heart, she knew that the spirit was finally set free after a decade of confinement and torment.

She looked up to where her parents had been watching her.  She stood up to join them.  They walked together across the vast field as Angelica explained to them everything that she had gone through that night, the morning breeze tickling the wild grass making the blades move together in an oceanic wave.

An original story by Denzlee Knudsen

all characters and scenarios are fictitious; not based on real people or events

“I can’t believe him!”  There was a clatter as things were thrown across the room.  Dirty clothes were tossed, pictures were shredded, and anything in her grasp was chucked at the wall.  Each object resulted in a deafening clang and crack when it made impact against her bedroom wall.  “I can’t believe he would do such a…”  In her frustration, she couldn’t think of the right words to use in this scenario.  So for lack of poison to her words, she resorted to throwing a stick of chapstick.

The sailing chapstick knocked against the glass and Harrold jumped to his corner to avoid the frightening scene.  A low hissing sound was heard from inside the cage that took up the majority of one of the room’s walls.  The girl’s innards froze as she realized what she did.  She came to the glass tank and rested her head in her arms.  She said, “I’m sorry, Harrold, I know you didn’t deserve that.  In fact, I don’t think it’s fair you should see me like this.”  The girl sighed.  She watched as the little creature crept closer to her from behind the glass.  “I know, you’d say, ‘Hattie, you shouldn’t worry about him anymore.  He made the choice and he burned his bridges, he shouldn’t be your problem any longer’.  But his actions affected me!  That’s not fair!”  Hattie got up and stormed around her room.  She looked back at her companion in the tank.  He was still looking at her with all his minuscule beady eyes.  “At least you’re the only one who’ll listen to me.”

Hattie exhausted herself from the anguish of her emotions when she crawled into bed.  She lay awake angry, thinking of how she was wronged.  She had thrashing fits under her covers like a toddler before she started to sob.  Her tears kept running down her face and falling to her pillow.  Her chest eventually stopped heaving, all her muscles contracting to contain a wail, and her eyes kept pouring her sadness even when she didn’t realize she was still crying as she slipped into slumber.

The next morning, Hattie slowly awoke as the sun shone in from her window.  Her face wet, now crusted with dried tears, and her body aching and sore.  She looked at the time.  She still had to go to school despite feeling like garbage being tossed in the waste bin to rot as the recycling next to her was lavishly treated to become something new.  No matter what happened to her, life went on.  Hattie literally rolled out of her bed and didn’t care as she thudded to the ground.

She lay on her carpet for a minute before dragging her limp body over to her dresser.  She meagerly got herself ready for the day, wearing as little makeup as possible with a hoodie and sweatpants.  Hattie then turned her attention to the ginormous glass tank.  Harrold was deep in his favorite hiding spot, adequately resting the way Hattie should have.  She regretfully headed off to school.

The day was monotonous, as usual.  Going to classes one after another, surviving each drawn-out hour.  Everywhere she traversed in the halls, there were posters plastered over every square-inch of the walls made by the student council hyping up the school dance happening this weekend.  To put insult to injury.

On top of her injury, Hattie saw salt coming down the hall to be sprinkled in her wound.  She was the fly unaware of waltzing into a spider’s web.  She stuck close to the walls, hoping she would be overlooked if she appeared to be part of the large group of people walking in front of her.  She kept her head down wishing she could don her hood if it wasn’t against the school’s rules.

She heard a familiar voice as he walked past.  “You’re everything to me, baby.”  Hattie cautiously looked up and found him.  He was walking with a girl, their arms linked at the elbows.  He gripped her arm gently tighter as his other hand stroked her arm.  He looked over to Hattie’s direction with a smirk.  He obviously made sure he had said that loud enough for Hattie to hear.  Hattie’s heart snapped as something else inside her boiled.  He used to say that to me.  How stupid sounding it was to hear him say that when it wasn't directed at her.  In Hattie’s next class, she lowered her head covering the tears that would not stop falling.

At the end of the day, Hattie just wanted to get out of the vicinity as quickly as she possibly could.  Unfortunately for her, she ran into the sickening couple before she was home free.  She was dashing through the halls before school was even out when she saw him with his “new” girl sitting against the wall in the vestibule right where she wanted to exit.  She didn’t notice it was them until it was too late.  She had already reached the first set of doors when they all made eye contact with each other.  She wanted to turn back around and find another exit but she was so close to leaving when all she had to do was rush past and never look back.

Hattie opened the door and briskly walked past with a stiff neck.  “Hattie?”  Dang it.  She turned to him with the fakest smile she ever had to put on with an underlying intent to strangle him.

“Brian,” she coldly said.

“Chelsea, this is Hattie,” Brian introduced.

The skinny blonde warmly smiled up at Hattie.  “Brian has told me so many wonderful things about you!  I hope things aren’t still awkward between you two.  Shame of how things went down when you broke up a while ago.”  She nuzzled in Brian’s arm.  “Hey, the dance is coming up this week.  I hope I get to see you then!  Are you going with anyone?”

Hattie was too repulsed to even conjure some kind of excuse.  Not only did he end up being a pathological liar, but he seemed to be a great manipulator to his new poodle.  Should she answer truthfully and burst Chelsea’s ideal vision her man crafted in her brain, ripping off the bandaid, or should she beat around the bush and kill him with kindness?  Both would be great responses.  The first would let him have her thoughts on what a horrid person he is while ruining his reputation in front of his “new” girlfriend.  But the second option would not give him the satisfaction of his actions getting to her and let his own guilt destroy him.  Or a third decision could be walking away without saying another word.  She eventually said, “Timing happened to not be on my side.  Crazy what someone else’s actions can do to another!”

Brian didn’t seem to react to the spear Hattie intentionally meant to drive into his soul.  “Well if you do end up going, I’ll be there with Chelsea.”  They rubbed their noses together.  Hattie rolled her eyes as she stormed out of the building.  But not before hearing Chelsea say, “We should go.”  To which Brian said, “No, it’s okay, I have nowhere to be.”

When she came back home, Hattie threw her backpack to the ground and collapsed on her floor.  She put her face into the fabric of her bag and screamed.  “Of course it’s Chelsea!  Of course he was double dipping with Chelsea!  Of course he chose her over me!”  She rolled herself over and stood.  Harrold peeked from underneath the shelter he made.  Hattie decided to give him a performance to vent her frustration.  “Chelsea is just so perfect!  Her skinny, perfect little figure makes her look like a model with her long flowing blonde hair that shines just right when the sunlight hits her.  I wish a train would hit her instead.  I’d bet her hair would look perfect after that!”  Hattie looked in her mirror.  She thought her dark hair on her head was long for her–it only reached to the bottom of her shoulder blades.  But Chelsea’s hair was at her lower back and it was always curled in beautiful waves that never seemed to have experienced a bad hair day.  Hattie looked at her round face and plump lips.  Such a drastic change from Chelsea’s sharp features and thin lips.  Hattie wasn’t as tall as Chelsea either.  The top of her head was level with Brian’s shoulder whereas Chelsea could tilt her head and rest perfectly in the crook of his shoulder.

Hattie continued her rant, “Girl’s too skinny for it to be natural; she probably has anorexia or something like that.  Not me!  If he’s into artificial girls, look no further than Hollywood.  If he thinks that’s his type, he won’t last a day with those kinds of girls.  Enjoy it now because I’m hoping Chelsea is a gold digger!”

Hattie noticed Harrold try climbing up the glass.  She walked over and opened the large container’s top.  She carefully lowered her hand and gently scooped up her humongous pet so as to not startle the arachnid causing him to shoot his urticating hairs everywhere.  Hattie knew she would never have to worry about her spider using his deathly large fangs since his species doesn't naturally use them unless further provoked, she only had to worry about his lethal bristles that pack a much more deadly punch which he also never used against her.  She held her spider as its 8 little eyes watched her.  She raised her arm as Harrold crawled down to sit on the back of her shoulder.

“You know,” Hattie mentioned, “I never noticed how weird Brian acted around me.  That could have been my own emotions blinding me from the truth of that sociopath.  I never even considered another girl he could be hanging out with.  Ugh!  I’m disgusted that I let myself get close to him after he was with another girl!  I kissed the same mouth that that girl kissed!”  Hattie shuddered.

Harrold climbed to Hattie’s other shoulder.  “And I can’t believe that he made her think that I was his ex before her!  I was the girlfriend at the same time as her, we just didn’t know it.  And the fact that he’s rubbing it in my face that he still has a girlfriend after breaking up with me is just a huge middle finger!”  Hattie was about to aggressively yank something from off the ground when she felt the tarantula’s surprisingly delicate pads gripping to her shirt.  She sighed, letting all the air out of her which took her tense anger with it.  “You’re the only one who gets me, Harrold.  You make me feel sane.”  She carefully took the spider off her shoulder and placed him back in his regulated environment.  “I think I’m done with boys for a while.  But what I would give to show up to that dance and give him a piece of my mind!  Oh, if only I could wish.”  Hattie observed Harrold wander in his cage letting her swirling thoughts drift freely in her mind.

* * *

The week finally finished up and Hattie luckily had minimal interactions and sightings of Brian.  Since she had known his schedule, she was able to avoid wherever he would be.  Hattie safely left the school and booked it back home.  The hype for the dance tomorrow was gnawing at her.  People all around her seemed to be going with someone and constantly bragged about it.  Hattie used to look forward to going with Brian.  She thought of a day date, a dress, and everything!  She had just rightfully assumed that they would go together until he stabbed her in the back.  Now she can’t stand him and therefore can’t stand the idea of the dance as a whole.  Something inside screwed her up and she felt awful for missing out on the fun her peers would have without her.

Hattie sat at her table with her head in her hands watching Harrold scurry in his burrow.  “What if I really want to go to the dance?” she was thinking aloud.  “I can go, right?  People go stag all the time!  Except I know no one who will let me join, especially with such short notice.  And I am definitely not going by myself!”  She put her head down on the table’s surface and stared into nothingness.  “Guess I’m gonna miss it and get over it.  I’d better plan a nice night just for me.”

Hattie looked at her reflection in the glass and saw there was an eyelash on her cheek.  She carefully picked it up with the tip of her finger.  She inspected the lash and blew it away, following it as it fluttered to the carpet.

Hattie, however, didn’t notice her eye let a tear out until it rolled to her nose.  “I just wish a guy wouldn’t have treated me like that!”  Harrold halted in his tracks and remained still, matching his owner’s solemn concern.

The daylight ran out as the night sky took its place.  Hattie crawled into bed with one thought on her mind: What am I going to do?  She wasn’t intending it to happen, but she cried herself to sleep for yet another night.

Hattie finally drifted into a deep slumber, ignoring all the strange clattering and shuffling throughout the middle of the night.  When she woke up early in the afternoon, she didn’t recognize the now open door to her bedroom which she had closed before she went to sleep.  She groggily trudged out of her bedroom with the plan of watching TV all day without doing any of her personal care routine because there was no point when she wouldn’t even go anywhere.  Hattie walked right by Harrold’s confinement, never acknowledging the slid open lid or tipped over can of dried bugs.

Hattie didn’t get too far when she was startled by a sudden knock at the front door.  She groaned as she swiftly found a reflective surface to tidy up her appearance.  She opened the door and was shocked to find a boy with broad shoulders who looked around her age at her doorstep.  He was dressed nicely in a velvet rustic orange suit, almost tan colored, with a very polished hair style.  He spoke, first saying, “I thought I’d do this right for you so I tried going to the store but that place is crazy!  I don’t know how you humans do it!  So apologies if I get this wrong but—”

“Who are you?” Hattie interjected.

The boy stopped talking.  He was slightly taken aback.  “Blondi,” he simply replied.  Hattie took in that information, noting that his hair was obviously light brown.  “T. Blondi,” he reiterated.

Hattie felt lost in her confusion and definitely felt she looked lost in her confusion, too.  Her mind was drawing lines, the dots not yet connecting.  “Blondie?” she repeated incredulously.

“You know, what, forget this.  May I come in?” the boy exasperatedly said.  Hattie hesitantly let him in.  “You’re never going to believe me so I won’t say anything just yet.  But, Hattie, can I cordially invite you to the dance with me tonight?”  This guy was very handsome and kinda cute.  Seemed like a gentleman raised right.  Hattie could finally go to the dance and miss out on an upsetting night!  Whomever this kid was, she could easily stick it to Brian by upstaging him with a much better looking guy!  But on the other hand, this kid was a total stranger she had let into her home, yet he knew her name.  She doesn’t really go out often so it would be elusive for someone she doesn’t recognize to know her name.  Conflicting instincts fought from this first impression.

Hattie asked, “How do you know me?”  The boy put his hand to the back of his neck.  He sucked in air through his teeth.  “Don’t tell me you stalk me!” Hattie exclaimed.

“No, no!  Nothing like that!  At least, hopefully you wouldn’t see it that way.”

“What does that mean?!”

“Like I said, you won’t believe me, but…you told me how much you’ve been looking forward to going to the dance only for all those plans to be pulled out from underneath you.  I know what he-whom-must-not-be-named did to you and I hope to show you what it’s like to not be treated like that.”  Hattie raised one eyebrow in either shock or horror–she couldn’t tell.  The dressed up boy dropped his head.  “Just look at your enclosure in your room.”  He pointed exactly in the direction where Hattie’s bedroom was.  She slowly turned around, still managing to keep her eye on the stranger as he followed her to her room.

When Hattie looked at the glass cage, she noticed how disheveled it appeared.  Her blood turned cold when her stomach dropped.  A chill ran up her spine.  “Oh, my gosh!”  She put her hands on her head as she searched for the missing arachnid.  “What happened!?”

The boy behind her shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.  I literally was doing nothing when the next thing I know, I’m outside the glass on your floor missing, like, 6 of my legs!  I literally don’t know what happened.  It was the weirdest thing ever!”

Hattie slowly turned around to face the boy.  She cocked her head, suspiciously looking at him from the sides of her eyes.  “What?”

“You’re never going to believe it–I don’t believe it myself either…”  He nervously laughed.  “Obviously I’m just going to tell you because I have trusted you with my short life and you have obviously trusted me enough to handle me.”  Hattie urged him to indulge his point.  “I’m your Harrold, you know, your tarantula–well, I used to be–I guess I still am…but not an arachnid anymore?… None of this makes sense, Hattie!”  Hattie dipped her head forward, exaggerating her incredulous expression.  “Please say something because I’ve never been able to speak the human language before and now I can and I’m nervous I’m going to abuse that ability too much and I’m getting quite scared about everything that’s happening right now—”

“Okay!” Hattie finally interrupted.  “Just…let me wrap my head around this.”  She braced the weight of her upper body by planting her hands against the table.  “Harrold?” she repeated in the same tone she used earlier.  She looked him up and down.  Under her breath, she said, “How is it you’re so hot?”  She instinctively clasped both hands around her mouth.  “I did not just say that!”

The human Harrold replied in a teasing tone, “I’ve heard you say worse.”  Hattie demanded he give examples.  “If you knew I was surveying you this whole time, you’d have kept a lot of things to yourself.  But it felt like I was the only one who knew the real unfiltered Hattie.”  He smiled and Hattie was ashamed of her melting heart.  

Hattie ludicrously chuckled.  “As crazy as it may seem, I…believe you.”  She gestured to all of Harrold.  Her disbelieving expression transitioned to a cynical look.  “We’re going to that dance tonight, huh?”  She sniggered.  “Brian’s gonna feel real stupid and ugly when we show up!”

Harrold mirrored Hattie’s face.  “I hope that sob gets what he deserves!  Get ready, Hattie, we’re going to have a night to remember!”

Hattie didn’t leap into action like how Harrold expected.  She was doubled over laughing, at what, Harrold didn’t have the slightest idea.  “Hang on,” Hattie wheezed.  “‘Sob’?  What the heck does that mean?”

“You know, ‘sob’.  You wrote it about Brian in your journal.  I learned it from the best!”  He became offended by his feeble human slang vocabulary.

“It’s an acron—stay innocent, my little bird-eater.  I’m going to get ready.”  She patted his shoulder as she slipped by to hop in the shower.

As the warm water ran down Hattie’s back rinsing off the soap, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to how Harrold was able to take up a human form.  What provoked it?  What phenomenon caused this, magic?  How is he handling this change?  Can he transform back?  If it’s a matter of time, when would his carriage turn back into a pumpkin?  If this were to happen at some point in time, why now?  The more Hattie theorized, the more questions she couldn’t explain arose.

She let Harrold observe her as she put on her makeup, as she supposed he always did.  “So what’s it like being human?” she once asked him.

“Pretty useless,” Harrold answered.  “I thought I’d be able to see better as a human.  What?  You thought that just because I had 8 eyes, I’d have such amazing vision I’d be able to see into the 5th dimension?  Luckily for me, I’m used to relying on other senses.  Some good that is because this human form is useless!  I’ve always had size in my favor but at least now it’s in my favor in relation to other species.  I can belong where I’m not evolutionarily supposed to!”

“How different is your stature?  Is that weird to get used to?”

Harrold retracted into himself, his eyes seeming to go blank.  “Don’t ask.  Arachnids are built nothing like homosapians.”

“Right.  So then how did you get to this?”  She gestured to his figure.

“I already told you I don’t know.  I do think you had something to do with it but I have no idea.  Everything about this is beyond rational reasoning.”

Hattie put her hand to her chin.  “It’s too perfectly timed.  Were you visited by a fairy?”  Harrold shook his head and Hattie snapped her fingers.  “That rules out Fairy Godmother and Blue Fairy, then.”

“I was thinking more Casper.”  They both laughed.

Hattie surveyed her arachnid's human face.  "Of course you would know all the same references I do.  With every lonely movie night, I never considered you'd also be watching them with me."

"I'm normally not into much human entertainment but you always pick out the good ones."  They smiled.

Hattie finished getting prepared for the night out by curling her hair and slipping into her dress.  She compelled Harrold to step out as she dressed into her gown she presumed she’d wear to the dance with Brian.  She bought the dress to stand out with her man but it felt disgustingly sweet to be wearing it to rub it in Brian's face.

After a few moments of marveling at her princess-like figure, Hattie stepped out of her room.  She held a handful of the luscious material her wide dress was made of so as not to step on its hem.  When she stepped into the room Harrold was in, he stood up in awe.  Hattie’s light mauve dress sparkled in the early setting sunlight, seeming to be giving off its own light.  The tight bodice connected to a flowing skirt that resembled a cozy bed.  Hattie’s curled hair lightly rested on her bare shoulders, completing the gorgeous look.  Harrold noticed goosebumps on Hattie’s thin arms and he experienced the same sensation for the first time.

“When you first brought that dress home, I honestly never thought it’d look good on a human.  But you look beautiful.”  Harrold held out his hand for Hattie to place hers in.  When she took it, Harrold slipped a clematis corsage around her wrist.

Hattie marveled at the flower that perfectly matched the color of her dress.  “How did you get this?”

“From your neighbor’s garden.  Look, I have one, too!”  Harrold held out a similar flower with a proud grin across his face.

“I’m sure she won’t mind.  She might not even notice,” Hattie shrugged.  She quickly ran to get a pin.  “We put this here,” she said as she pinned the flower to Harrold’s lapel.  “I think we’re ready!  I can’t wait to see the look on Brian’s face, let’s go!”  The girl and her tarantula walked to the school dance.

By the time the two made it to the school, they arrived fashionably late as Hattie planned–they had made sure to walk slowly.  They could hear the music thrumming from inside the building.  They opened both double doors dramatically only to see a bunch of kids rave to flashing colored lights and loud music.  Nobody seemed to mind the entering couple.  “That was anticlimactic,” Hattie told Harrold.  They walked in as Hattie furiously scanned each student’s face to find Brian and Chelsea.  “They’re not even here!” Hattie growled.  Harrold spotted the snack table and asked Hattie if they could try some.

Hattie kept her eyes on the doors watching for Brian like a hawk.  Harrold’s excitement to try some human junk food quickly fizzled when he bit into a lemon bar.  He exclaimed in disgust as he spat out the cake.  He complained that the food had too much texture and too much diabetic flavor he wanted to barf.  Hattie directed him to chicken salad next to mini hot dogs wrapped in dough.  Hattie explained that “this food is a bird and the other…we’re not sure but you’ll love it.”

There was a stirring on the dance floor and kids looked over at the door.  Most of the kids stopped dancing entirely to turn their bodies to face the door.  Hattie followed everyone’s gaze and saw Brian and Chelsea walk in exactly how Hattie and Harrold did.  “How come they got the cool entrance and nobody even acknowledged ours?”  She patted Harrold’s shoulder to get his attention.  Harrold was sucking on a hot dog slurping the inner meat.  She told him to play it cool as she would anticipate their next moves.  Brian and his date immediately disappeared into the mosh pit.  “Ready to get stepped on?” Hattie rhetorically asked as she pulled a resistant Harrold along to join her in the dance huddle.

Hattie weaved her way between people in enough time to join the tight middle huddle.  The beat in the song dropped and everyone started jumping, creeping uncomfortably closer and closer to each other with every hop.  It became so crowded that Hattie wasn’t touching the floor anymore as she was squished between a multitude of people.  She was getting jostled around so much she feared she’d get a concussion.  Miraculously, among all the commotion, she was able to spot familiar people.  She aggressively wriggled herself through the incriminating party circle to get close to Chelsea.  The mosh pit eased as the song returned to a more laid back verse.  Hattie sidled next to Chelsea and jabbed her heel into her enemy’s foot.  The two girls looked at each other.  “Oh, my gosh, Chelsea! I’m so sorry!” Hattie squealed.

Chelsea was pleasantly surprised to see Hattie and gave her a hug.  “You came!  I’m so glad I got to see you here!  You look beautiful!”

Hattie haughtily took Chelsea’s compliment.  She looked her rival up and down and wished she could genuinely say the same thing.  Chelsea wore a simple hot pink silk gown she could easily wear to bed.  Her matching pink high-heeled sandals were flattering on her but didn’t look good with the dress.  Her long hair was pulled in a messy bun, her stray hairs clamped back with an abundance of bobby pins and hair clips.  “You look good,” Hattie lied.  Chelsea took great pride in the fake compliment.  Dumb blonde.

Chelsea found Brian right behind her and pulled him close.  “Babe, look who’s here!”

Brian looked at Hattie, then her outfit, then her eyes.  Hattie made sure to slightly pose to appear admirable to Brian to show him what he could have had.  There was a longing in Brian’s eyes, almost forgetting that she was no longer his girlfriend.  Then he sharply furrowed his brows.  “I thought you couldn’t make it, what happened?”  His tone was rather mocking.

“Well things worked out better than I imagined,” Hattie retorted.  The music was picking up again so the three escaped before they got closed in.  Hattie spotted from the edge of her peripherals Harrold standing on the outskirts of the mosh pit started walking over to her.  He was thankfully easy to spot.

Harrold was nearby and Brian briefly looked up at him.  Brian asked, “Did you end up going with someone?”  He stood taller as he wrapped an arm around Chelsea.  He feels threatened.

“As a matter of fact, I am.”  Hattie held her arm behind her and Harrold took it.  Hattie was never bothered by their major height difference, even when she noticed that Harrold towered over Brian.  Brian had to tilt his head up to look at Harrold.  “This is my date Harrold.”  Hattie never once shared anything about her pet tarantula to Brian so that he would never know a weird side to her.  The sad things she did to make him love her.

The guys shook hands.  Brian let his insecurities seep out as he looked clearly inferior to the towering male Hattie was with.  A conversation was about to happen when the atmosphere suddenly changed.  The flashing lights slowed as the music changed selections.  They looked around to see dancers disperse to clear the way for couples to slow dance.  Brian opened his mouth to say something to their group but wasn’t allowed to let anything out when Harrold bowed to Hattie as she took his outreached hand to be whisked to dance.  Chelsea begged Brian to dance with her.

Hattie put her hands on Harrold’s shoulders.  They swayed to the slow beat together.  Hattie looked into Harrold’s eyes and found a similar emotion she also found in herself.  He was glaring over in Brian’s direction.  “You hate him.”  She put it as a question, more of a certain fact.  “You almost hate him more than I do.”

Harrold looked down at Hattie.  “I never saw what this Brian guy looked like.  All I knew of him was what you said about him.  There were nice moments you would share, but those were few and far between.  Most things you had to say were never warm.  I got to hear your real thoughts about him day in and day out and you complained at how much you had to change yourself in order for him to keep you.  All for him to stomp on your efforts with a backhand slap by showing he never cared about you this whole time.  So, yeah, I hate him!  And let me tell you, he looks the part: a big jack.”  Hattie corrected his pronunciation.  “Jerk.  Yeah…that’s what I meant.”

“He doesn’t look miserable.  I know he wants to get a rise out of me but I want a rise out of him!  I’m good looking and I’m with the better date!”

“Let’s make sure he knows that,” Harrold said as he commanded the lead.

The music swelled and Hattie quickened her footwork to keep up with her date.  They brushed past their rivals, a smirk directed at Brian over Harrold’s shoulder.  Hattie was pulled this way and that as her flowing dress swished and twirled with every changing step.  She extended her arm away before being pulled back in a spin.  Harrold directed her in some sort of extravagant ballroom dance, lifting her high in the air and gently back down in many different ways.  They performed elaborate partner work that Hattie let happen as she went with the flow while Harrold did all the work.  With each luxurious pose, Hattie’s sparkly dress twinkled in the low multi-colored lighting.  Multiple times throughout the song, Hattie caught herself giggling and didn’t care to stop.  At the sound of Hattie’s genuine happiness, Harrold brightly smiled.

The song began to decrescendo as Harrold wrapped an arm under Hattie’s shoulders and lifted her up, spinning her in the air next to him.  Hattie held onto him tightly as she elegantly circled her legs.  She forgot what the occasion was, all she knew was that she was having the most fun she’s allowed herself to have in a long time.

Harrold put Hattie’s feet on the ground one last time.  He came in close, clutching the small of her back, as he tilted themselves downward.  Hattie arched her back and raised her arm past her head, gently brushing the hardwood floor with her fingertips.  She released her head as she surveyed the surroundings upside down.

Hattie was gently lifted back upright as Harrold slowly stood from their dip.  She was too caught up in the moment she never once noticed that the students formed a circle around them, admiring their every move.  The students clapped for the two.  Hattie looked up at Harrold whom’s head was completely turned away.  She followed his gaze and cast her eyes on Brian and Chelsea at the edge of the circle.  Brian was shooting daggers at them.  No.  He was shooting daggers only at Harrold.  His stare never flinched or glimpsed in any other direction.  Brian locked his homing attack on Harrold.  Hattie tugged Harrold’s arm to lead him far away but no matter where they went, Brian’s eagle eyes followed the tall boy.

Hattie retreated to a desolate corner next to the emergency exit.  She felt this inexplicably strong urge telling her to leave.  Harrold pulled Hattie by the shoulders beckoning her closer into the corner.  She peered to see Brian marching towards them as Chelsea trotted not far behind.

“Guys, that was amazing!” Chelsea called out.  Her words were drowned by her date’s.

“What are you doing here, Hattie?” Brian spat.  Somebody’s jealous.

“Same as you.  I’m having fun at this school dance,” Hattie plainly said.

“Wh–where did you find this guy?  How were you able to—”  Brian was beyond frustrated and Hattie relished in it.

“Listen, man,” Harrold stepped in, “if you have a problem with me, take it up with me!”

Brian nodded, his eyes aflame with hatred.  “Yeah.  Yeah, we got a problem.  Who are you and what rock did you crawl out from?  You’re a nobody and I can’t believe you’d show up here with Hattie!”

“You’re a nobody and I can’t believe you treated Hattie the way you did.”

“Oh, you’re asking for it.  Wanna take this outside?  Wanna take this outside, then, huh?”  Brian was itching for a chance to throw hands.  Despite Hattie’s pleas, Harrold agreed to walk outside with Brian.  The two guys left the gymnasium and the door slammed behind them.

“I’ve never seen Brian get this upset for no reason.  I guess things between you and him are still weird,” Chelsea told Hattie.

“He’s gonna beat up Harrold,” Hattie breathlessly said.  Her heart emptily beat as the thoughts in her head frantically yelled at her to stop the fight.

“No, Brian wouldn’t do that.  If anything, I’d be more afraid that your date will beat up mine!”

Hattie reevaluated.  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.  He’s not a fighter, he defends himself and will do whatever it takes to ensure his survival.  I’ve gotta get out there!”

Hattie thrust open the emergency exit to the chilly night outside the school.  The sky was pitch black with no visible stars.  She expected the boys to be right there beyond the door but there was no one in sight.  She let her ear lead as she faintly heard a scuffle around the corner of the building.  She crept along the wall, listening as the sounds of movement grew louder.  She neared the corner when the sounds suddenly stopped.  She peeked around to the other side to find nothing yet again.  Hattie was dumbfounded.  Where did they go?  Where could they have gone?  What happened?!  Hattie picked up her skirt and jogged the best she could in her heels back to the door.

When Hattie came to the stretch where the door was, Chelsea barged out.  Hattie cried, “I can’t find them!”  Chelsea joined her in the search.  They trekked to the other corner Hattie hadn’t yet ventured to.  No sign of the two guys.

“You don’t actually think that they got into a real fight, do you?” Chelsea nervously asked.  She began to believe Hattie’s suspicions.

“Well, I know they hate each other–it’s obvious on the looks of both their faces.”  Chelsea questioned why that was.  Hattie answered, “Harrold knows me probably more than I know myself and knows who I was like when I was with Brian.  He hates what Brian did to me.  And Brian…he might be jealous.  I’m not sure why because look at you!  You’re like a model and who wouldn’t want to be with you?  Of course he would choose you over me.”

“What?” Chelsea blankly asked.

“Chelsea, you’re a nice girl and I feel so awful for having such personal feelings of hatred towards you without knowing who you are.  But I’d advise you to leave the guy as soon as you get the chance.  He’s not who he makes you think he is.  Believe me, I found out the hard way.”  Hattie looked over at Chelsea who looked a mixture of disdain, sympathy, and bewilderment.  Hattie decided to tell this undeserving girl the truth.  “Chelsea, he cheated on you.  He cheated on both of us.  He lied in telling you that we broke up a long time ago when in actuality I called it off a week ago once I found out he was also with you.  He managed to keep both his separate relationships a secret from us.  Didn’t you ever find it strange that he publicly showed you affection only in this past week?”

Chelsea was horrified, deep in her recollection.  “He always had somewhere to be.  And that was to be with…you.”  Chelsea was afraid to ask her next question but she had the right to know.  “How did you find out?”

Hattie took a deep breath before she spoke.  She had to manage to get the answer out as truthfully and objectively as she could.  “The last evening we were together, we were making homemade pizzas at his place.  It was fun as it usually was.  Then he got a notification on his phone that took his attention away from what we were doing.  I asked him what it was about and he said it was nothing I needed to worry over.  He became absorbed in his phone for quite a while which did not seem like it was ‘nothing’.  When he disappeared to get more food from the pantry, I looked through his phone.  I saw text message conversations with a ‘Sea Baby’ with a bunch of heart emojis—which, by the way, is what you’re named in his phone—and none of the conversation was what I had with him.  He was planning a dinner date with you after our brunch date.  He came into the room and got very territorial of his phone.  So I asked about it and he again said it was nothing I should be concerned with.  I accused him of cheating, things went downhill, I called our relationship off, and then he said, ‘I’ll at least have a girlfriend even after you dump me’.”

Chelsea’s hands were covering her gaping mouth as her big eyes welled up.  “Hattie, I feel so bad.  I didn’t know—”

“Neither did I.  I felt like he didn’t properly love me unless I was the cookie-cutter version he wanted me to be.  I never was able to let my true self out around him.  I walked on eggshells just so I could keep calling him my boyfriend.  And now I know why–I had competition.”

“Well if he had both of us, he can’t get either of us anymore!  Why are we looking for him?”

“I have to make sure Harrold’s okay.”

Something clicked in Chelsea’s head.  “How do you know Harrold?  It’s been a week since you broke up with Brian.  That was a quick turnaround.”

Hattie shamefully sighed.  “I know.  Harrold’s just…a really good friend of mine.  It’s complicated but it’s not at all what you think.  There is no intimacy involved whatsoever!  I just so badly wanted to shove it in Brian’s face and I think it worked too well.”

The girls abruptly came across an unnerving pair of legs sticking out from behind the dumpster.  Luckily, the legs stirred.  “Brian!”  The girls ran over to check on him.  Despite being both their ex now, Hattie felt awful for her heart’s intentions and genuinely wanted to make sure he was okay.  If he wasn’t, she felt completely responsible for his injuries, whatever injuries may have been inflicted.

Brian had propped himself up on his elbows and did not look good.  His hair was wet from sweat and tousled from its styled shape it used to be, his slick black suit was covered in lighter colored hairs, and his bottom lip was split.  After confirming he was alright, he muttered, “Your boyfriend is something else.”  He pulled Hattie close to his face to whisper, “He freaking bit me.”

Hattie’s blood ran cold.  If he listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened.  “Show me.”  Brian pulled his sleeve to reveal, indeed, teeth marks on his wrist.  Among the print,  two dots were deep enough to draw blood.

“It, like, stings the more time goes.  Is that normal?  Maybe I’m losing the shock and the real pain is kicking in?”  That didn't sound too good.

“You’ll be fine, trust me, just get that taken care of.  I’m off to find Harrold.”

Chelsea scooted closer to Brian and consoled him before changing the subject.  Hattie was leaving the staggering conversation Chelsea was about to drop on him.  You go, girl!

Hattie cautiously wandered around the rest of the unchecked perimeter for any signs of Harrold.  If I were a defeated tarantula turned human, where would I hide?  Hattie instinctively checked every corner she could find.  Then she spotted a particular jut-out made from a classroom wall that was shielded from any lamplight.  She felt she knew that’s where her buddy would be hiding.  She slunk against the side of the building, careful not to startle herself or Harrold.

She gently called his name.  His voice responded, “Go away!”  Hattie peered around the corner finding him huddled in the dark corner, hugging his legs tightly to his chest.  She insisted that he come away from his nook.  “I said go away!”  A puff of some sort of dust flew from his jacket.  Hattie turned away, pressing her back against the wall, dodging the cloud.  She shut her eyes tight.

She glanced down at her exposed arms.  There was a patch of brown hairs sticking out of her skin on her elbow.  She bit her lip to keep her from wincing in pain as she felt the irritation start to tingle under her skin.  Her hand reached out to itch the affected area when she forced her hand away.  She cried out when the sensation became unbearable.  She started to carelessly pluck the hairs out, occasionally pinching her own skin in the process.

Harrold peeked around the corner to witness what he unknowingly did to Hattie.  She gripped her arm, her nails digging in, to keep her from scratching the aggravated area.  He quickly stood, evidently at fault by the fact he hurt her.  “Hattie, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologized.

“Don’t apologize,” Hattie uncharacteristically delivered.  “It is, after all, your natural evolutionary response.”  She growled as she couldn’t help but furiously scratch at her elbow.  “I should have seen this coming!  You would eventually turn against me, as all guys have done!  Fending for number one, no matter how many people you hurt!”

“Hattie, no, it wasn’t like that,” Harrold pleaded.

“This was a bad idea,” Hattie gravely said.

“Neither of us would have ever known that this,” he emphasized by gesturing to himself, “would ever happen!  You’re welcome for helping enacting your vengeance—”

“But you can’t go biting people!  As a human, that's wildly wrong on so many levels!  What are you, some kind of villainous vigilante?  I did not ask you to do that!  Physically harming him was never the intent–you could have avoided all of that completely!  And I have no reason but to feel responsible because the actions of someone else affect me!”

After the poison in Hattie’s words, Harrold shut down.  “Sounds like you care more about him than you do me right now.”

“Because Brian never attacked me.  His psychological and emotional tricks are nothing compared tovenom or urticating bristles!  What were you thinking?!”

“I thought you hated him.  Thought you wanted to get back at him.  I thought that if…then you’d feel freed from him.  Because even when you weren’t together anymore he still was able to hurt you.”

“I thought that with how much you knew me and how much we bonded, you’d be on my side and see the way I do.  But I guess we’re clearly not as close as I thought we were.  You used your self defense against me!  And you have never ever done that before!”  Harrold took the mistake of pleading the fifth because his silence gave Hattie’s anger to brew to new heights.  “Know what, good thing you males have a short lifespan because I don’t know what to do with you after the events of tonight, Harrold!  I mean, what do I do?  I can’t wait until you’re not one of my problems anymore!”  Tears all of a sudden burst from Hattie’s eyes.

Harrold watched her break down and those emotions of having watched her cry herself to sleep for a week plagued his heart.  That longing of wanting to comfort this girl yet being unable to from behind a glass enclosure.  Except now he felt incapable of not knowing how to comfort her in this situation.  He delicately put his hand on the back of her shoulder.  She flinched, pulling away but he glided his hand over to her other shoulder.  Hattie didn’t push him away but instead fell into his arms, pressing her cheek into his chest.

“I didn’t mean to,” Hattie gasped between sobs.  Harrold gently rubbed her back allowing her to work through her realizations.  “You have to know that people say things they don’t mean when they’re in the heat of anger.”

Harrold gave her a reassuring squeeze.  “I know.”

Hattie tried her best to continue, fighting off her body’s response to weep.  Her body was convulsing, partially shaking from her outburst of emotions and also from shivering in the cold.  “It’s been a crazy emotional week for me–and it shouldn’t be yet!”  She helplessly chuckled.  “Everything is just a shock that hasn’t yet fully hit, I guess.”

Harrold took off his velvet suit coat and placed it on Hattie’s bare shoulders.  “First you find out you’ve been cheated on, then who you’ve been cheated on by, then the confrontation, and, on top of that, me.  All while trying to take care of yourself to get through another day.  You’ve cried a lot this past week, you’re exhausted!”

Hattie laughed, her tears fading away.  “I–I’m sorry I said the things I did.  I—”

Harrold caressed the back of her head.  “I know.  Don’t be any more sorry than having to clean up my mess.  I sincerely apologize about that.  But seeing it’s already done, there’s not much we can do.”

“He’s going to demand a miracle he knows I can’t provide.  I’d have to see to his expectations and I don’t want to—”

“Then don’t.”  Harrold pulled Hattie away, keeping his hands on her shoulders.  “Who cares what he thinks?  You for sure don’t, right?  Hattie, don’t worry about him.  He made his choice and burned some bridges.  He’s not your problem anymore.”  They both giggled at the familiar phrase.  “I want to see you happy.  I would want you to be your true self outside of your bedroom.  You don’t need to make yourself into someone you’re not just to prove your worth to others.  Because ultimately they won’t see your worth anyway.  So make it meanwhile for you and nobody else.”

“Thank you, Harrold.  Didn’t know I needed life lessons from a spider!  You go against the laws of your biology.”

Harrold guffawed, "What about me follows my biology?"

Hattie wiped her tears away.  She estimated to the best of her ability the areas her makeup must have been smeared as she attempted to correct it.  Harrold spotted an out-of-place eyelash on Hattie’s cheek.  His fingertip picked it up and held it in front of Hattie’s eyes.  She was about to automatically blow it away when discernment struck her.  “Harrold,” she remarked.  “I think this was how you transformed.”

Harrold looked down at his finger where the eyelash sat.  “This?”

“Blowing away an eyelash traditionally has some sort of wish-granting associated with it.  I distinctly remember mine,” Hattie stammered.  “I made the wish that I would be able to go to the dance so I could unravel the ugly truth about Brian.  True story!”  She laughed at the irony of it.

“How did that wish involve me at all?” Harrold skeptically questioned.

“Brian got to see how a true gentleman treats me–thanks to you–showing him what he lacked when we were a thing.  I was then able to tell Chelsea about the real Brian who cheated on both of us.  Really, it was a lose-lose for Brian.”

“But a win-win for us!”

Hattie looked back at the lash.  She got what she had wanted so she had to choose her next wish carefully.  What was the next step for her?

“It’s okay if you want to change me back,” Harrold interrupted her thinking.  “Being human was fun while it lasted but I miss being an arthropod.”

Within all of her wishful thinking, changing Harrold back was last on her mind.  It was a change in company and it was actually quite fun having someone to talk with who understood her most.  But, as it pained her to sympathize with, he must crave his familiar form.  She’d like to hope that he resisted on going back to being an arachnid as she did but she knew otherwise.  “Okay,” she finally submitted.

“Go be yourself for me, but most importantly for you!”  He generously held up the eyelash for her to make a wish.

Hattie carefully sighed.  “I wish to find who I am as an individual.”  She blew on the lash and lost sight of where it went.  She looked into Harrold’s two eyes and he winked at her.  Hattie looked out at the night sky and a longing in her heart made a second wish she doubted would come true again.

When she looked back, the human boy Harrold once was vanished.  She crouched down and put her hand in the grass, her palm facing up.  The goliath bird-eater tarantula eagerly crawled onto her hand, his legs scrunching tight to his body to fit in her palm.  Hattie raised her arm so Harrold could crawl down and sit on her shoulder.  She stood up as the arachnid crawled over to her other shoulder.  “Let’s get out of here,” Hattie announced.

When Hattie came to where Brian and Chelsea were hopefully still at, Hattie would confidently walk by without giving them a second thought.  The couple were sitting against the dumpster.  Brian's light did not seem to be on in the attic whereas Chelsea looked relieved.  She looked especially relieved when Hattie walked by.  She sprang up and walked with Hattie.  She nearly leaped out of her skin when she noticed Harrold clinging to Hattie’s shoulder.

When Harrold was facing Brian, the spider made a hissing sound.  Chills surged all through Brian.  Hattie reprimanded, “We don’t give him any more of our attention.”  The arachnid moved to the front of Hattie’s shoulder.

“Rad,” Chelsea agreed.

An original story by Denzlee Knudsen

all characters and scenarios are fictitious; not based on real people or events