Story

“No. No. No!” screamed Saera. Tears came from her silver eyes, Thinking of her mother and the warmth of her tight hugs. “It is true,” said Arius, “however much you wish To deny it. The real truth is, WE created you. We used our technology to form the four of you Metaphysically, each one joined with their element.” Arius then chuckled, faintly, underneath his breath. “Who would have imagined that old Plato was correct?” “Who the FUCK is Plato?” Ardo asked, his voice a snarl. “

Saera, Marin, Ardo, Terry one by one could feel Pricking over all their bodies, something subtle, small, But it grew, as time went on. It came into their hearts Then spread through their chests, their limbs, their spines, their heads, their brains, Bringing all of them ever so slowly out of sleep, Tickling them with the faintest hints of cruelest pain, Breaking them from slumber. They awoke, each one by one. Saera slowly opened up her gleaming silver eyes... But then they bul

That evening, Saera was reading in bed. She was getting a head start on reading for Monday, because there would be a test on the novel they’d been assigned for English class. She had already showered and changed into her pajamas. “Saera?” “Oh, yes, Mama!” said Saera brightly, as her mother came into the room. “Hello!” “I just wanted to tell you good night,” said Aemelia. “I have to be at the office early tomorrow for a weekend work session, so it’s possible I won’t see you

It was Friday, April 15th. The sky was sunny, and nearly empty of clouds. A cool, gentle breeze blew from the south. Terry sat with his back against a tree, in his backyard, and stared up into the sky. His hand idly flicked, down near his waist. As it did, the dirt around this hand shifted, moved, rolled and danced, sending up the faintest puffs of dust. He glanced down, seeing the dirt move. “This is still so weird,” he said. “But it feels good, doesn’t it?” said Marin, si

That evening Terry was reading in his room. Or trying to do so. More homework, as a test crept closer in his English class. This was a novel about a family on the verge of falling apart. “I don’t need you telling me what to do!” cried Daniel. “You do so many stupid things it would be better if you listened!” cried Abigail. “You’re the worst mother ever!” Daniel responded. Mother. Terry put the book down and sighed, as a lonely emptiness bubbled to the fore of his heart. H

Terry smiled. “Happy birthday, man.” Ardo grinned at him. “Thanks, dude!” It was April 1st, and Ardo was fifteen years old today. They were walking away from the curb, where Ardo’s aunts’ car was just pulling back into the street. Ardo stuffed his hands into his pockets. The day was warm, and breezy; Spring was in full bloom, flower petals drifting on the air. Ardo twitched his gaze at Terry, then, ruby red eyes sparkling. “How have you been? I know you didn’t want us to com

That evening, Saera laid on her bed, reading. She kept on reading, though she was displeased with what she read. She was reading the book of poems that her mother had gotten her for Christmas. She had tried to pace herself, reading only a few poems a day; Saera liked to stretch out the pleasures of a book, and so she was a deliberately slow reader, only reading short amounts of any given book on any given day. For Saera, a book ending was cause for alarm, and sadness. So she

Softly blew the breeze of Spring ‘round Saera as she sat, Sat and yet could not ignore the cramps that she now felt, Felt amid her thighs and in her abdomen as well: Not too bad a pain, yet something she could not ignore. “Mmm,” she mumbled, softly, sitting in the silence of English class, as the teacher lectured. It was such a normal sound, to almost anyone. But Marin sat in the desk right next to her, and Marin was not anyone. Her navy eyebrows rose as she heard the noise

Ardo’s success at the sewage treatment plant had left him in an excellent mood. He grinned, fiercely and proudly, as he grabbed his plate of orange chicken and white rice, and even picked up an extra crab rangoon—a reward for his success. The cafeteria lady did not seem to notice, or mind. And he surged through the crowd of students milling about the cafeteria at the start of Lunch. Many of them saw him coming, and gave him a wide berth. Ardo had a reputation in the school b

Ardo bit angrily into his food. It was Indian food day, and Ardo stabbed at bites of chicken korma, spicy and creamy, forking them into his mouth. Terry arched a glinting, metallic brown eyebrow at him. “It’s not going to get away, you know.” “I’m mad,” said Ardo under his breath. “You’ll get it,” said Terry. “I’ve been trying for weeks!” cried Ardo, eyes flaring neon red as he did. Steam rose sharply from the food in front of him at this. “Your trouble, it would seem to

Marin sat in the car with Bellona, as it drove itself through the streets. Her mother eyed her daughter from the corners of her gaze. “So…” said Bellona. “Did you have a fun time?” “I did,” said Marin, speaking softly. She had drawn her knees up to her chest. “What did you all do out there, anyway?” asked Bellona. “Just… hung out. Terry’s got a big backyard, it’s fun to wander around.” “Ah.” Marin huffed a sharp breath. “Come on, Mom, I know you want to ask about my hair

Marin twirled her hair, and breathed, and sighed. “We still haven’t forgiven you, you know.” “I know.” She said this, and she breathed her breath out, and turned to Lindsey, who wore her hair shorter these days. She’d gotten it cut a few months ago, and had kept it short. Marin saw this, and turned her head to the side, and said, “Linds, you should have kept your hair long. It would have looked better on you.” Lindsey bared her fangs. “My hair? You’re commenting on my ha

He could barely stand Marin practically skipping through the halls after History was done. She bounded into the cafeteria, with him hot on her heels, Hot and blazing, burning, and he felt it in his chest, Snarling, and a line of smoke came wafting from his mouth. Marin had slipped through the food line before him. It was once again burrito day, a fact which brought him a certain amount of pleasure; the school cafeteria actually made pretty good burritos. He grabbed his stand

Terry awoke, a few days later, and yawned. It was Monday, actually. The clear, clean brilliance of the morning sun gleamed through his windows. It was time for school. Terry was somewhat proud of himself for training his body to wake up well in time to make the bus; this despite not really naturally being a morning person. But his internal clock had been properly set, and it clicked and chimed perfectly to wake him up at the right hour. He walked into the bathroom, wearing o

“So that was uneventful,” said Bellona as their self-driving car meandered through the quiet Atlanta streets, taking this turn and that back to their home. “I guess we could have got more testing,” said Marin, staring at her phone. “I’m willing to trust Doctor Crickson,” said Bellona. “If he says there’s no real point to getting more tests done, I am willing to believe that.” Marin was texting. >Done at the doctor. No health problems they could detect. They couldn’t expla

And Marin’s hair billowed and sank, as she sat there, in Dr. Crickson’s office three days later. Bellona sat next to her, wearing a beautiful cashmere pantsuit in deep purple. Marin herself was wearing a dress, and she seethed as she sat. She thought about her left eyebrow. They had been preparing, on this Thursday, to skip the school day and take her to the doctor. Marin had gotten dolled up; she did not typically wear makeup, but she had at least put on some blush, consid

Three periods later, they were at Lunch. “Uuuggghhhhh,” groaned Marin, slumping heavily into her seat with her tray. Her heavy red wool dress kept her warm in the slight chill of the cafeteria. She was also wearing green leggings. Actually, all of them had some green on, somewhere. In addition to Saera’s dark green pants, Ardo was wearing a henley with green sleeves and a gray body, atop some jeans. Terry, of course, had his usual green field jacket on, atop some heavy brown

School started on Monday, January 8th. So a day was bent, and posed, and Saera wandered around the house. She had felt weak when she had first recovered, after so many days being sick and fighting the sickness. But one day of good health and good food was enough to restore her stamina, and on the 7th of January, by midday, she had felt as good as new. She had thought of going to see Marin. But Marin had texted her curtly: >Not now And Saera had heard no more from her frie

“Gah!” barked Saera as she shot upward in bed. Bright white sunlight streamed into her windows. She sweated and she shuddered and she sighed and she… Felt better. Her silver eyes went wide. She breathed, and though some soreness lingered from the coughing she had done for days, the cough itself was completely gone. Her fever, her chills, her nausea and the urge to vomit—gone. She felt well, and healthy, and a surge of joy ran up her chest at the idea. But… something else. H

When on poetic venture one begins, When to a great endeavor one aspires; When to the earth a great new thing is born, When something mighty is in the attempt; When wielding water, fire, air, and earth, When knitting flesh and steel, circuit and bone; When dreaming plots, and vast conspiracy, When naming faction, tumult, strife, and war; When of heroes and villains one would speak; When speaking, too, of those who blur such lines; When dealing of great things, and small things