Roger Fawkes

“I’m impressed,” Doctor Rollins commented. “You recovered from your accident quickly. I suppose that’s one of the benefits of a kid your age.”

Roger Fawkes smiled. “Thanks, Doc, when can I start running again?”

The Doctor smiled a sad smile. “I’m sorry, but the nature of your injury means that you won’t be able to do sports again. You’re lucky that you’re able to walk.”

Roger blinked. “What?”

The Doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry, Roger.”

Dad piped up. “Are you sure there isn’t some kind of physical therapy he can go through?”

The Doctor looked at Dad in the eyes. “The fact that your son can walk is a miracle, Mr. Fawkes, but the damage his nerves and hips took from that motorcycle means that any physical exertion will harm him not help.”

It felt like a significant piece of Roger had been cut from him. Cross-country was his sport. Nobody in the entire state could beat him, and he rocked the world at nationals last year by placing second when nobody expected him to. For this to happen to him was the worst curse anyone could have placed on them. The discussion happening between the Doctor and Dad in front of him faded into the background of his mind as he lost himself in fear and despair. What would he do now? The most important thing in the world to him was no longer something he could do.

Roger had spent a month recovering from a collision he had with a motorcycle on one of his runs. The injuries he sustained were mostly to his lower back, upper legs, and hips. The doctors were concerned he’d be a paraplegic for the rest of his life, but fortunately he escaped that fate. No more running. Training was supposed to start in two weeks, but now he can’t participate in that. Roger missed the marathon he was training for; a marathon that he was going to qualify for Boston with.

A question popped into Roger’s head. “What about cycling? Could I do that?”

The Doctor shook his head slowly. “I can’t even recommend you walk more than two or three miles a day. Any more than that and you may end up agitating your injury.”

Roger stood up. “I’m going to the car, Dad.”

Roger’s body ached as he made his way to the car. It took every ounce of control he had to keep from crying in public. As soon as he got into the passenger seat, he punched the dashboard a few times angrily and let out a few shouts. Shortly after, tears streamed down his face.

“What am I going to do now?” He sobbed.

Roger couldn’t even look at his father when he arrived to bring him home. The entire drive he stared out the window looking at the places he used to run. The places he’d never run again.

Once they made it home, Roger shuffled into his room. When dinner time came around, Roger declared his lack of an appetite. He spent the rest of the day lying in his bed, wallowing. When it came to be time to fall asleep, he didn’t. The entire night, his body ached and tightened and strained. The few times he came out of his room the next two weeks were to eat one meal a day, sometimes less, and go to the bathroom. Mom and Dad visited him and tried to console him; he asked to be alone. By the end of these two weeks, he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.

By the end of summer, Roger felt a great emptiness move into his heart. He almost didn’t go to school the first day. Class blurred by as he hardly paid attention to the teacher or his peers. He didn’t interact with anyone until lunch happened. Out of habit, he sat with the cross country team and immediately felt unwelcome.

“What are you doing sitting here?” Chad Brunswick, the team’s co-captain demanded. “You aren’t on the team anymore. You skipped out on all the practices this summer, like some big shot.”

“Whoa,” Isaac Halla interjected. “Chad, haven’t you been paying attention to anything that happened this summer? Roger got put in the hospital by a motorbike.”

Roger hung his head and murmured. “I can’t run anymore, doctor’s orders.”

“Put in the hospital?” Chad stood up. “So you can’t even run anymore? What the hell man. The team can’t afford to lose you. Screw this.”

Chad stormed off; most of the team followed him. Roger felt even more pathetic and buried his face in his arms on the table.

Isaac patted him on the back. “I’m sorry, man.”

Roger stood up and began walking away. Away from people. Into the hallway. Somehow, he found himself in the counselor’s office on the other side of Salisborough High. He sat down at the large table in the center of the offices and buried his face again into his arms. Tears began flowing down his face uncontrollably.

“What do I do?” He sobbed.

“What do you do?” A voice on his right asked.

Roger looked to see a shoulder-length brown-haired woman in a beautiful and elegant black dress. He blinked away the tears. “I used to run.”

She sat down next to him, putting a couple binders onto the table in front of her. “What do you do now?”

“Nothing. Hurt.”

Her brown eyes pierced into his soul. “What do you want to do?”

He turned his head away from her. “I don’t know. I want to run, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t even walk to class without my body screaming bloody murder.”

“Why don’t you look for something new to do?”

He sighed. “I don’t even know where to look.”

“Maybe I can help you out with that. What do you like?”

Roger thought for a moment. “Running.”

She chuckled. “That’s it, eh?” She pulled out a sticky pad and wrote something on it. “If you think of anything more give me a call.”

She stuck the sticky note to Roger’s hand and got up and left the office with her stuff. Rachel Kent 555-4923. Don’t lose faith in yourself.

Roger came to his last class late, and the entire time he spent staring at the black ink on the yellow sticky note. Don’t lose faith. Is that what happened to him? Did he lose faith and just give up?

“What do I like?” He whispered to himself. The words stirred something in him; the feeling he couldn’t quite figure. “What do I like?”

The rest of the day he spent trying to think of things he liked. The thoughts continued into the next day. He decided to start writing down a list just to keep track. Roger sat at an empty table in the cafeteria at lunch.

“Hey,” A familiar voice caught his attention. “You never came back yesterday. I was worried about you, man.”

Isaac sat down next to him. “You OK?”

Roger looked at him. “Not really.”

Isaac tilted his head. “You going to be OK?”

Roger looked back at the notepad with the list, nodding. “I will be. I just need time. I didn’t think I’d ever be OK, but now I think I will be.”

“Do you want to talk?”

Roger closed the notepad; clinging precariously onto it: the sticky note with the number. “One second.”

Roger pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number. After two rings there was an answer. “Hello?”

He smiled, it was her voice. “Rachel? This is Roger; we talked yesterday a little bit. Can we meet?”

Her voice brightened up. “Sure, same place?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

As Roger hung up, Isaac looked at him quizzically. “You want me to come along? Or should I have lunch alone again?”

Roger gave Isaac and odd look. “Do you even need to ask that? Of course you can have lunch alone, but only if you really want to.”

Isaac stood up after a good laugh. “Lead the way.”

Short Story Series: Blake

Blake Carpenter looked into the sea of people in front of him. His felt fine. Better. He felt fantastic. This was his element: people. He was going places in life and nobody was going to stop him. His fellows stood behind him on this wonderful stage. This was the recognition they all deserved. He stepped up to the podium, his graduation robes flowing around him. He removed his graduation cap and put it on the podium. To his right was the principal, a glowing smile on her face. To his left were both councilors, beaming.

He smiled and looked into the crowd to where he knew his parents were. “Today, is a glorious day for the whole lot of us. We students shall be moving forward in life, going to college, starting work, and various other activities. You are the parents, friends, and family members of this class of people, these young adults who are moving up to a new level of life. The feelings of pride that you have for us must be incredible, but if it hadn’t been for your support I know that many of us may not be standing up here right now. I was selected by my fellows to speak on behalf of all of us, and I say thank you.

“Thank you for the time you took to take us to sports and clubs. Thank you for tolerating us at our worst and loving us at our best. Thank you for spending thousands upon thousands on gas hauling us all over town before we could drive. Without you, we would have missed much.”

Blake pulled the microphone off of the podium and looked back to his fellow students. “This is our moment. We are at a new threshold of life. Many of you are going to college, some are actually heading to a professional career. You all have done well, congratulations.”

He turned back to the audience. “Finally, one last thank you. This one going out to my friends and family. I know I wouldn’t be standing here, speaking to all of you if it weren’t for you. Thank you. Mom. Dad. I love you guys. Thank you.”

Blake set the microphone back into place, stepped to the side of the podium, and performed a graceful bow at the applauding crowd before him. This was his moment, and he would cherish it for as long as he could.

Short Story Series: Rachel and Frank

Frank Kent looked at his latest disaster. He had never been good with cleaning, his parents reminded him of that every day, but this is the first time that while cleaning he ended up making a worse mess. Somehow, a bag of sugar had fallen from its cabinet when he was putting stuff into it and now it had split open and had spilled everywhere. Of course, due to bad timing, Mother came into the room just as it happened and was now screaming at Frank and calling him “useless” and “pathetic”. He just bowed his head and with each word he got hurt more. Sometimes he wished he’d disappear completely.

Mother told him to leave the kitchen, so he did, and she began cleaning up the mess while muttering mean statements just loudly enough that he could hear. He shuffled away to his room, his fortress of solitude, even if it was made of glass. He used to defend himself every time something like this happened, but now he agreed with every painful word that spewed forth from his parents’ mouths. He was useless. He was pathetic. He was good-for-nothing. Why didn’t he just disappear? Nobody would notice or if they did they wouldn’t care. All Frank Kent was ever good at was getting in the way and making things worse.

Frank sat on a stool in his room, before him was an easel with a canvass on it. Without thinking he began to paint. Each stroke calmed his nerves, and brought him to a comfortable place in his mind that no one could disturb. The scene he painted was dark, dreary, and depressing. It was so powerful in its themes that when he was done with it he valued himself even less. “I can’t even paint something happy and beautiful.”

“You can paint something powerful and dark and beautiful.” Rachel, Frank’s sister, had been standing there the entire time, watching him paint.

He jumped at the sound of her voice. “More along the lines of something dark and depressing. Nothing I do is any good, not even this.”

Rachel stepped into his room. “Hey, don’t you get all down on yourself. You’re art is fantastic. This is one of your best pieces, that I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen everything. Why don’t you show this or any of your art in art shows and stuff?”

Frank flopped on his bed, not caring about the paint stains that would be added to it later. “It’s not good enough. I’m never good enough.”

Rachel glared at him. “Just because Mom and Dad call you useless all the time doesn’t mean you are. You used to fight back all the time. What happened to you?”

Frank winced at the word “useless” and frowned. “Mom and Dad are right. I’m no good at cleaning, I’m no good at school, I’m no good at helping around the house, and I’m no good at painting.”

Rachel sighed. “Fine, when it’s dry can I take your no good painting? Because I like it.”

Frank waved at her dismissively. “Sure, I don’t care.”

Rachel stomped down the stairs and found Mom, who had just finished cleaning up the sugar disaster, and proceeded to yell at her trying to defend Frank for him. She pointed out the condition he’s in, and declared that he needed some kind of support and not being put down all the time. Mother hollered back a whole lot of nothing and eventually sent Rachel to her room, a useless gesture, but Rachel stormed off to her room anyway.

When Rachel made it to her room, she looked at the pamphlet on her dresser. It announced an art show this weekend that she was going to ask Frank to show his art there, but in his state that wasn’t an option. She decided that she would present his art on his behalf and force him to see other people’s reactions to his works. She had already sent two other pieces of his to be presented at the show, this third piece would be the last one. She hoped that Frank would make it through the rest of the week, but five days would be very long and painful for him.

The next day, she took the dried work of art, framed it for Frank, and brought it to the manager of the art show who gladly accepted it.

“Your brother’s works are some of the best I’ve ever seen, I do hope he shows up this weekend,” the manager told her.

She smiled. “I’ll make him. I know he’ll love it.”

When Rachel got back home, she had discovered that no incidents had happened, but aside from Frank going to school he had never left his room. When she investigated he was scrawling away on a sketch pad and several drawings were scattered on the floor. She quietly closed the door and whispered. “Hold on in there Frank, don’t lose yourself.”

The rest of the week skidded by. One day, Rachel heard about a teacher raising his voice at Frank and saying some mean things. She tried to get Frank to a counselor, but he refused to even try it. Another day, Dad exploded at him, fortunately Rachel was their to mitigate the explosion, but it didn’t really help Frank too much anyway. At least Dad showed some remorse and apologized to Frank. Mother yelled at him a few times. By the end of the week, Frank was a total wreck, and Rachel had to somehow get him to show up to the art show.

Frank was hiding in his room when Rachel found him to ask him to go to the show. “Frank, you need to get out of the house. Come with me, I’m going to be seeing a movie tonight and I want you to join.”

Frank glanced over to her. “A movie? Why would you want me to come with you to a movie?”

Rachel glared. “We need some brother-sister time. Come on.”

She walked over to him and grabbed his arm. He didn’t really struggle as he was pulled and practically dragged to Rachel’s car. “Fine, I’ll come,” he said halfway there.

Rachel smiled and started the engine as soon as Frank put his seat belt on. She backed out of the drive way and began to head to the art show. Frank noticed the direction they were going in. “I thought we were going to the movies, not the school.”

Rachel quickly glanced at him. “We’re going to stop at the school first before we go to the movies. You’re going to come with me.”

Frank shrugged. “OK.”

It took fifteen minutes to get there, and a few more for them to get inside. When Frank was inside, he noticed the place was having an art show. From a quick glance he saw his own art pieces, including the depressing one. Against his own will, his feet made him move closer to his works. Part of him really wanted to know what other people thought of his art. Rachel followed him, closely behind.

The things Frank heard were “I like the dark one, it expresses very powerful emotion”, “This is beautiful”, and other things very much like that. A couple tears rolled down his cheeks for the first time since he could remember the emotion called happiness erupted in his heart. He looked back at Rachel. “Thank you, you’re the best sister a brother could ask for.”

Short Story Series: Tyler

“Tyler Emmin, can you educate the class on the history of the Civil War?” The question had caught Tyler “T” Emmin off guard. Once again he had been caught staring at the brunette beauty Crystal Vaine, but this time it was by a teacher.

He blushed as the class laughed at him. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Mora, the history teacher, rolled his eyes. “Once again lost in the clouds and all you have to say is sorry. Next time, you’re going to have a talk with me after class. Now pay attention.”

Not that there ever was a talk, he just said that to try and get his students to pay attention, nobody ever had to talk with him after class unless they did something other than stare at beautiful women.

T listened to Mr. Mora drone on some more about Gettysburg before he began to space out again. He had a dream the other night, a dream about Crystal and him together in a relationship and it was beautiful. Of course in real life she probably didn’t even know T existed. Not very many people noticed him. T was shorter than the average sixteen year-old and didn’t fit in with the cliques in the high school. Even some outsiders treated him as an outsider. He did have a few important friends, one being his best friend since childhood: Tara Jenkins.

After class T walked to the cafeteria where he’d meet up with Tara and the Kents: Frank and Rachel. They all knew about his crush on Crystal.

As she sat at the dinner table, Rachel asked. “So, T, have you asked Crystal out yet?”

T blushed and shook his head. “No.”

Tara looked accusingly at T. “I still don’t get why you like her. She’s just a rich preppy girl, not even your type.”

T shrugged. “She’s pretty?”

Tara smacked her own forehead with the palm of her hand. “Right, because that means anything.”

T frowned. She didn’t have to be so rude about it. “I talked with her once.”

Tara began fixing her hair. “Yeah, I know. ‘She was really nice’. Of course you couldn’t say anything back to her, so it’s more like she talked to you not with you.”

Rachel smacked the table lightly. “Hey, you don’t have to be so mean about it. Yeah, he’s head over heels over her and there’s no real reason for it, but you don’t have to be so mean.”

Tara just glared at Rachel for a while. They began to stare each other down for a while until Rachel blinked.

Rachel then laughed. “You beat me every time.”

T then stood up. His heart pounded in his chest. “I’m going to ask her out.”

Frank glanced up at T. “Are you sure, dude? You look like you’re going to have a heart attack. I’m pretty sure the embarrassment might kill you.”

T quickly nodded. “Yeah. I got this. I’m sick and tired of losing chances to ask her out. She’s right over there, I’m right here, and I’m going over there to ask her.”

T took one step after the other each one seemed to take longer than the last. He tried to keep his breathing calm and his heart from pounding its way out of his chest. He felt the blood rush up to his head and he knew that some people were staring at him. Somehow he made it to the table that Crystal was sitting at although she was talking with her friends. T then tapped her shoulder and when she turned to him he lost his breath.

Crystal looked at him expectantly. “Yes?”

T then exhaled. “WouldyouliketogowithmetoRene’sDinerfordinner? Tonight?”

She blinked, then smiled after a little while. “No thank you, I’m not really interested in you. I don’t think it would work out anyways.”

T was shocked by the calm denial she performed. The cold denial. All those feelings washed away except the embarrassment and that hit him so hard he passed out.

When he came to Tara was sitting next to his bed in the nurse’s office. She smiled when she noticed him wake up. “Well, that could have been worse.”

T looked at her weird. “How so?”

Tara hugged him. “You could’ve passed out before getting denied by Crystal. By the way, real graceful way to ask her out.”

T blushed but he hugged her back. “Shut up.”

Tara looked him in the eyes with her vibrant green eyes. “You are OK, right?”

T’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Good.”

He looked down for a moment and then looked Tara back in the eyes. “Uh, Tara? How would you like to have dinner with me at Rene’s Diner tonight?”

She nearly tackled him. “I’d love to.”

Short Story Series: Yvette

The call had happened. The news had arrived. Yvette slowly hung up the phone after she got the message. The world around her slowed down and gravity seemed to get heavier. She slid down the wall into a seated position and curled up into a ball. The call was from her doctor. The news was she was going to die in July from an acute blood poisoning that no hospital could cure.

She had tried every possible way she could. Doctors tried every cure and experiment known to science. Reiki masters tried every healing method they knew. Hypnosis. Everything. Nobody could do anything. She was helpless. She was only nineteen and had recently graduated high school. She was going to go to Yale. Now, in one month, she was going to the grave.

None of her family knew what was happening to her; she didn’t want them to until she knew that there was nothing she could do. Now, the only thing she could do was cry. “I don’t want to die.”

Mom had gone shopping, but she’d be back in a couple of hours. Dad was at work and would be home a few hours after Mom. All Yvette wanted to do was wrap her arms around them and cry and tell them everything. The comfort they could give her was better than the cold comfort of the doctors telling her that her death would be painless and would probably happen in her sleep.

Yvette trembled at the thought of her parent’s reactions when she tells them. She knew they would try to find her a cure, but she already knew there wasn’t one. She’d tell them of course, but there’s no way they’d listen; she’s only a child fresh to the adult world how could she know? The only reason they didn’t know was because she lied to them about where she was going and asked the doctor, who was a friend of hers not to tell anyone.

There was a sound at the door and Mother came through. “Hello, Yvette. Oh, what’s wrong, dear?”

Yvette looked at her mother with teary eyes. “Mom, I need to tell you something. It’s really, really important. You’re going to want to sit down though.”

Mother put down the bags in her hands. “OK. Lets go to the kitchen.”

When Mom sat down Yvette let out a short sob. “Mom, y-you know all those times I said I went to Kelly’s house? Not all of those visits were true. I was going to the doctors and stuff. I-I am dying.”

Mother’s jaw dropped and then quickly closed up. “No, no you’re not. You can’t be, you’re too young. You can’t die. This has to be a lie.”

Yvette hugged herself. “It’s true. I didn’t want to tell you two because I didn’t know if I could cure it or not, but I have one month and nobody can do anything. I don’t want to die!”

Yvette embraced her mother in tears. Mom returned the embrace. “You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Yvette sobbed. “No!”

They held each other for the next few minutes. Mom denying and comforting. Yvette crying. The only words going through Yvette’s mind were “This is not fair”.

After a while Mom suggested that they bring in the groceries before the food goes bad from the heat, just to take their mind off of death for a while. After unpacking and putting away the groceries, Mom called Dad and told him about what happened, shortly after he came home. Yvette was terrified. She didn’t want to explain this to anyone, especially her parents. It wasn’t fair for her to keep this a secret anymore though. The same reaction came from Dad, but angrier and far more terrifying.

Dad called the hospital and heard the news from them. He slammed the phone after the hospital hung up on him, and defeated he slid down the wall into a seated position. Yvette and Mom joined him.

“What are we going to do?” He breathed. “I can’t lose you, my only child, my daughter.”

He broke down in tears and nobody said anything for quite some time. Yvette, Mom, and Dad all held each other crying.

Finally, Yvette spoke up. “There’s nothing that can be done. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything until now. I love you. Mom. Dad. I love you.”

Her voice broke up and for a while she couldn’t speak. “I-I’m going to die. I don’t want to. I want to live. But I’m going to die.”

Short Story Series: Ross

This was it, the day that he’d win it all. Ross smiled and walked to the mailbox. Within this mailbox would be a check written out to Ross’ name for 8 million dollars that he won from the lottery. Of course taxes were taken off, but the leftover amount of money was still so sizable that anyone could retire off of it. After walking into his house and opening the letter, Ross did a little dance. He nearly screamed like a little girl too.

His first ever lottery ticket and he won! How much more lucky could he get? Oh the things he could get with this money. First, he’d have to put the check in his bank account. With that thought he got into his old jalopy of a car and drove to the bank. The first thing to change would be his car. He had always been eyeing that Porsche 911, so that’s what he would get. What would be next though? Ross realized he was getting ahead of himself and put his mind to one thing at a time.

In the bank, the line was fortunately small and he knew the teller very well. She had at one point been Ross’ girlfriend, after they broke up they slowly reformed their friendship.

Alice noticed the size of the check. “That’s quite a lot, did you get lucky or something?”

Ross grinned a wolfish grin. “Yep.”

She handed him back a deposit slip. “It’ll be a week or two before you can actually use all of the money. Tomorrow you’ll be able to use about $5000 of the money.”

Ross was shocked. “A week or two? Why can’t I use it now?”

She smiled. “It takes a while for big checks like this one to completely transfer over. You’ll be able to use about half of the money in a week though.”

Ross wanted to use the money now. “Oh, OK. Uh, have a good one Alice.”

“Good bye, Ross.”

Ross drove back home in a trance. He won the lottery, but he couldn’t use the money right away. When he made it home, he rested his head against the wheel with his hands still grasping it. Luckiest day of his life and he couldn’t do anything with his luck until next week. “Just my kind of luck.”

College seemed a bit silly now that he had enough money he could retire. Mom and Dad wouldn’t be happy though if he told them he wasn’t going to go to college. A part of him still really wanted to give it a try anyways. Then the thought of being a debt free college student came to mind and he smiled. In one and a half semesters, he’d be graduated from high school and on to college. First, he wanted that car.

Then another dilemma came to Ross’ mind. Who should he tell about the money? His best friends would know. His parents  would find out anyways if he went and bought the Porsche. Should something this big be kept secret? Or should he tell those he knew the best? He had an hour to figure out if he should tell his parents or not, because they both would come home at the same time.

He stepped out of his car and went to his room to listen to rock ‘n’ roll and think. When his parents got home, they called him down for dinner. They had picked up pizza on their way home. At dinner, Ross listened to his parents talk and tried to figure out if he should tell them and how.

Dad looked at Ross. “Are you alright, son? You seem a bit lost today.”

Ross blinked. “Oh, yeah sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Did something interesting happen today at school?”

Ross coughed. “Well, actually. Um, not at school, but here. I, um, I won the lottery.”

Silence.

Ross continued. “It was a lot of money. Uh, and I went to the bank today and put it in my account. I, um, I need help with it though.”

Dad smiled. “You certainly are a lucky one aren’t ya? We’ll help you with it. What exactly do you need help with?”

Short Story Series: Helen and Thor

“Thor, I’m pregnant.” Helen’s reflection responded with a stressed expression.

She took a deep breath. Mixed emotions rose with the inhalation and almost came pouring out on her exhale. “A-and it’s yours. No it ours. Y-you’re the father. Oh God, I’m so screwed.”

She wiped the tears that began flowing down her pale face smearing some of the make-up she had on. Not that she could look any worse right now. Her blonde hair had tangles in the worst spots and her clothing was ruffled because she had rushed putting them on. Again she breathed in and out. “Thor, I’m pregnant. The baby is ours.”

She repeated this several times and eventually out of frustration tossed herself into her bed. Fortunately her house was really well insulated and her bathroom was right next door, or her parents would have heard what she had been saying. Helen was terrified. What was she going to do now? Thor needed to know. Her parents would find out anyways, so they needed to know. Everybody in school would find out and then she’d be a nobody. Not that she had many friends to begin with. She shook in fear on her bed, occasionally a sob escaped her lips.

She had found out this morning and spent the entire day avoiding Thor and trying to figure out how to tell him. It was only a matter of time that he’d come knocking and her parents would let him in, then everyone would know that she was upset, and they’d pester her and she’d eventually have to give in. She didn’t want that to happen. “Oh God, help me please. I don’t know what to do.”

Her parents were strict Catholics and believed in consummation, and when they’d find out that she’s pregnant she didn’t know what they’d do. Thor would be given the worst from them too. Every part of Helen hurt.

She didn’t even know if she wanted to have the child.

A small voice squeaked from her lips. “Mom, Dad, I’m pregnant.” Suddenly those emotions that she dammed up broke out and she put her head in a pillow and cried her heart out for a good fifteen minutes. After that she threw the pillow at the wall with significant force.

Then the dreaded door bell went off. After a few breathless moments the dreaded “Honey, it’s Thor.” echoed up the stairs. Helen’s heart skipped a few beats. She tried to say something, but her throat had closed shut and she could not speak.

“Honey?”

Helen began to panic. She hastily cleaned herself up and tried to wipe the make-up off of her face and then stepped to the top of the stairs. Her mother was at the bottom of the stairs with Thor right next to her. Thor in his handsome leather jacket. His wavy brunette hair. His perfect blue eyes. For a moment, Helen lost her breath, but she nodded at Mom and Thor, wincing at the stupid gesture.

Mom looked at Helen with concern as Helen descended the stair. “Are you OK, honey? You look like you’ve been crying.”

Again her throat closed up and she couldn’t say anything. She prayed to God to let her speak. Thor spoke up. “She had a rough day in school. I was just coming to check in on her.”

Mom smiled. “Aren’t you a sweetheart. You’ll grow up to be a wonderful gentleman.”

Thor blushed. “I’m not sure how much more I’ll grow up, ma’am.”

Mom chuckled and began walking away. “Alright, I’ll let you two be. Take care of her.”

Thor nodded and smiled back. “OK, ma’am.”

I whispered to him. “Can we talk?” as soon as Mom was out of sight.

We went upstairs to my room. After we made it he asked. “Where have you been all day?”

Helen sat on her bed and bowed her head. A couple tears dropped off of her face. “I’m pregnant. It’s ours.”

Thor’s expression changed from confusion to shock. His hands dropped in mid-gesture to his sides. “What?”

“I’m pregnant.” Helen dared to look into Thor’s eyes. “The baby is ours.”

“Y-you’re pregnant. That’s why you’ve been avoiding me all day? Why the hell didn’t you tell me at school?! God damn it!” A few other expletives exploded from his mouth and a few moments later, they heard stomping up the stairs.

Dad loomed into the room. “What is going on?” his bear like voice cowed Helen even more and Thor backed off a bit.

Thor looked back at Helen. “Screw this, I’m leaving. I’m not having anything to do with this.”

Dad grabbed Thor on his way out. “Not having anything to do with what?”

Thor jerked his arm out of Dad’s grasped and continued leaving. “Don’t touch me old man.”

Dad roared various statements at Thor and shortly after there was a loud bang as the door closed. Soon after, both Mom and Dad were in Helen’s room. They both had their arms crossed.

“What happened, honey?”

Helen looked at her parents and then burst out crying. “I’m pregnant. The baby is Thor’s. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

Dad was the first to react. “I’m calling that disrespectful punk’s parents.”

Mom wrapped arms around Helen. She cooed loving caring words. Helen was a little surprised at her parents. She hadn’t expected their support, in fact she had expected them to yell at her and throw her out of the house. She smiled and returned her mother’s warm loving embrace. One last tear, a tear of happiness rolled down her face, and all the fear and uncertainty washed away.

The last words out of Helen’s mouth for the rest of the night were. “I’m keeping it.”

Vane and Havoc

After I told her that her father had been killed, Leah went into a bit of a catatonic state. I knew the feeling, my own father had been murdered, but fortunately she was spared the sight of it unlike myself. We left Freeport and traveled north a ways before turning west towards Lourghn. I made sure our tracks were covered, but if the assassins had magic at their hands they might be able to find us anyways. If they have magic they’d have hunted us down already and you’d be fighting them every night all night. True.

I wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, but she has an uncanny ability to tell if somebody is lying to her, probably part of her ability as a Weaver, because it’s harder to lie to most of them. Yes, and you know why. I know that it’s because of the natural power and knowledge of magic that they contain. That wisdom is given to them at an early age, but their true power doesn’t manifest until puberty hits them, and she’s maybe a couple years away. If that. I promised I’d protect her, my heir, and that I will do. Yes, I know and while I don’t agree with you on that promise, I will support it.

Whenever I spoke with her the next few days she didn’t respond. The poor girl had lost so much so soon; she didn’t even get a chance to finish her painting. I wanted to tell her about her power. I wanted to tell her that she will eventually become on of the most powerful people in these realms. Weavers are magic, they contain it and live and breath it. Weavers have the knowledge of a specific type of magic and the power to use it to perfection, with some training. A disciplined Weaver is a force to be reckoned with, not even I have the power to defeat one with just my own skill. Yes, but with me you’re even more powerful. Shut up. You can’t deny the responsibility you gained when you earned my power, you know that some day you will have to use it again. Not today, not until the Apocalypse is freed, or when the Balance needs resetting.

We arrived at Lourghn, my first home, the great city that it now is was only a small town when I was born in it. In the center of it stands the statue of Aridios “Ironblade” Airstrider, my best friend, may he rest in peace. He’s honored as the greatest human hero to have been born ever, and he was even if they embellished his history a bit. If it wasn’t for his bravery and kindness and his ability to unite people under a belief, most of the places that exist now would never have existed.

“Vane, you’re crying,” these were the first words I had heard come out of Leah’s mouth since we left Freeport. You’re getting nostalgic.

I smiled. “These are good tears. Tears of remembrance and homecoming.”

She looked around the city’s grounds. “This is your home?”

“I was born here. My best friend lived and died for this town.”

Leah looked me in the eye. “Will we be safe here?”

I bowed my head. “Only for a couple days, then we need to move on. You remember the rules I told you right?”

She nodded. “Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t tell anyone where I’m from. If I have to talk to someone only let them know my first name. And keep in sight of you.”

“Good memory.”

Robert White: Trouble’s Brewing

What happened last night? This thought ran through my head as I sipped from a glass of cold water in my living room. The party I went to last night was the only thing on my mind. The bloody image of my dead best friend was the last thing I remembered before I panicked and ran. God, so much blood. Did I kill him? I hope not. I need to remember.

The first thing I remember was when I was getting ready to go to the Volcano, a night club, for a good time with my two best friends, Kevin and Alex. We were just out to celebrate our graduation. I was going to be a forensics specialist, Kev was going to go for a graduate’s degree in Biotechnology, and Alex, poor Alex, was going to begin to pursue his dream as a business owner. This headache is killing me and this Tylenol is not cutting it at all, but I need to remember last night. Why did I drink so much last night?

I only have so much time before the police come knocking at my door to haul me off to jail for something I may not have done. I left more than enough evidence behind to get me to the top of the list of suspects. I’ve been drunk before, I’m not a violent drunk, but I’ve never been blackout drunk before and who knows how I am then.

Ok, so first thing I remember at the club. We had taken a cab to the Volcano, and good lord were the lights to that place beautiful and annoying at the same time. Who would have know florescent lights could look so good and still bother the hell out of you?

“This is the place,” was what Alex had said as he paid the cabby after we got out. “Ready for a good night fellas?”

I grinned. “Are the lights always this bad?”

Kevin laughed. “Don’t worry about them, once we’re inside it’ll be different.”

“Yeah, then I have to deal with strobe lights and loud music. I’m impressed that there isn’t even a loud thumping sound from out here.”

Alex led us into the club and man it was loud. The sound of techno and the noise of loud conversations pounded and buzzed in my ears. It was Kevin and Alex’s ideal party location, but I wasn’t thrilled, at least not yet. I searched around for a good spot to sit and found one at a bar on the other side of the club. We all went there. It was there we started drinking.

Alex ordered the first round of drinks for us. “Here’s to a successful life in crime fighting, getting a graduate’s, and ruling the capitalist world,” was his toast to us when the drinks arrived.

Kevin leaned over towards me and pointed to a pretty auburn-haired woman at the other side of the bar. “Ever since we’ve gotten here that babe’s had her eye on you. Why don’t you go talk to her and then bring her over here to join us?”

I shook my head. “Nah, she’s probably looking at you or Alex. There’s no way someone as good looking as her would be interested in a guy like me.”

Kevin put his hand on my shoulder. “Dude, she’s not looking at me and definitely not ugly over here.” Alex punched his shoulder for that. “Don’t be a downer on yourself, you’re a better looking guy than you think, and you’re pretty damn smart.”

Alex then had an idea. “You know what? Lets get a couple more drinks in ya before you go talk with the lovely lady. That’ll loosen you up.”

I certainly caved under that peer pressure and eventually did talk with her. I don’t remember her name, and something tells me she had something to do with Alex’s murder. Maybe she saw what happened and remembers. I still don’t remember anything after that.

I got up from my sofa and walked into the bathroom to splash my face with some cool water when I heard a loud pounding at the door. My heart skipped a beat.

Vane and Havoc

Another person dead by my hand. Sometimes I wish that I hadn’t earned this curse. You know better than to think that. This other personality - Havoc! - haunts me, controls me even. Makes me live longer than any human should. It’s a gift, one that you earned. One I sometimes wish I didn’t. Death hounds me. You are death, in a way. Silence, you do not comfort me. I’m not here to comfort you, only to be a guide as you serve the Balance. Yes, power for service, father always did tell me that power needs responsibility to be wisely used.

I sheathed the black crystalline long sword that is the second Apocalypse Crystal and closed the eyes of the dead assassin before me. “May Saint Shadow accept you into his cold embrace bold assassin.”

I then looked at the two guards that had watched me slay the contracted assassin. Such a shame that skilled men such as this assassin have to sign blood contracts to accept a job. Shut up. “Clean up the body, and the blood. Leah can not be allowed into this room until that is done. Do you understand?”

The guards nodded and began to gather others to assist in the disposal of the assassin’s body and cleaning of the room. I left the room and began the short search for Leah, the little girl that I was hired to guard until her father returned to protect her himself. I still don’t understand why you wish to keep her safe, she’s unimportant to the Balance. She’s the last in my bloodline and she will be a very powerful Weaver, why do you think I want to protect her? I know that, I still don’t understand the point, if you wish to create a new bloodline you can. That’s right, Havoc, you can’t understand.

When I found Leah, she was in her other play room curled up in a corner, crying. As I approached her, she sobbed. “Why do people want to hurt me? What do the evil people want from me?” Evil is relative, sweetheart. Shut up.

“Leah, I wish I could tell you why, but your father told me not to, but I will ask him to tell you when he gets back.”

“But I want to know now.” Tell her, you’re wasting your time and her life if she doesn’t know. So now you’re offering advice on this? Make up your mind, you support my choice to protect her or you don’t. If you’re not going to change your mind on this then I suppose I have no choice to support you. There’s always a choice, but I appreciate your decision.

I smiled. “Let me make you a promise. If your father doesn’t tell you when he gets back, then I will come back in one year to tell you everything you need to know. You’ll be fourteen by then, and old enough to know.”

She wiped her face off and nodded. “OK.”

You intend to keep that promise? My word is my bond, you know this. A foolish bond. “Let me get you that painting you were working on.”

She grabbed my hand. “No, stay. I can paint later. You remind me of Daddy and I feel safe with him around.”

I smiled. “OK.”

There was a knocking at the door and I turned to see a courier standing there with a letter in his hand. “Come in,” I gestured to myself.

He scurried in. “Message for you, sir,” he then turned around and left quickly.

Something about this is off. I opened the envelope and pulled out a letter.

Dear Vane,

I will not be able to return home, ever. I had learned that the guild that hired an assassin to kill my daughter, also sent an assassin after me. I managed to kill him, but not after I was poisoned by him. I can feel myself fading as I write this. Tell Leah I’m sorry, and keep her safe. Do not tell her of her ability until she begins to manifest it. There will be other assassins coming after her, so the best thing for you to do is take her with you on your travels. You will have access to all the funds of this family as payment, there is my broach in the envelope, with it you will be able to access the currency. Please accept this last job from me and once she turns sixteen you may be free of this job.

Thank you.

This is not what I expected. Finally, something we can agree on. “Leah… I have something to tell you. You need to listen to me, and do as I tell you afterwards.”