A Few Brilliant Ideas...

"We met over an empty glass. That's usually how it all begins with me. Well, perhaps not an empty glass in particular, but something so strange that when I try to remind people of it, they usually don't believe me. You remember though. You always have been good at remembering that type of thing. It was 2004 and I was with my family at Avalon in New Jersey. We always go to Avalon, every year, so that's really not that out of the ordinary. I was only fourteen at the time, and most kids at fourteen would kill to be at the beach, but not me. I've always hated it. It's become a family joke that we go down here just to irk me. Jessy, in particular, is especially annoying about it, and takes advantage of it every single year, but hey, what are thirteen year old girls for if not to bug their older brothers?

"Hey Jaaaames," Jessy taunted. I already knew where this was going.
"Hey Jessssyyy."
"Wanna go to the beach?" Jessy said, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she grinned at me. She was dressed in beach attire to the tee, and I mean her t-shirt literally had "BEACH LOVER" printed across the front in capital letters. She looked stupid of course, but neither of us would realize that until years later when we looked through photo albums.
"Nah, I'm good," I said, scooting a little further away from her on the couch, just in case she tried something.
"OMG, but the beach is your favoritest place in the world!" I could just feel more text lingo about to roll off her tongue. I decided I would forestall this and wipe the smirk off her face.
"You're right. Alright. Let's go." I said, hopping off the couch and strolling toward the stairs. Jessy trailed behind me in astonishment, as I rolled through the door and shut it behind me. I walked down the curb, making my way toward the beaches. I honestly wasn't looking forward to this, but the look on Jessy's face had been totally worth it. I grimaced as I thought about the gritty sand and freezing ocean all under a baking sun. I always feel like a turkey on Thanksgiving when I'm laying on the beach. Jessy eventually caught up to me, sunglasses on and bag on her arm per prep-girl fashion. I swear to this day that there was some sort of manual she was reading from, probably titled "How To Look Like All The Other Teenage Girls."
"I can't believe you're actually coming to the beach." Jessy said, looking through her bag for something. She pulled out another pair of glasses and traded. They looked identical to me, but hey, fashion. "Why are you carrying that?"
She pointed at my hand and I glanced down to find that I was still holding the glass of water.
"Huh, must have slipped my mind when I went out the door. Oh well." I said, drinking the last of the water and swallowing. The two of us made our way up the sandy road to the beach and I felt the sand run over my sandal and grimaced. Did I mention how much I hate sand? It's like having sandpaper rolled across your feet. Anyway, the two of us strolled to where the family was sitting/laying/playing. The family greeted us as we reached their encampment midst the scattered beach chairs, towels, and sun umbrellas. Hannah and Char looked a little shocked I was there, but Peter didn't bat an eyelash. It took a lot to surprise Peter. Hannah and Char assaulted me with inquiries until they were satisfied then I wandered off toward the ocean. I figured if I was going to torture myself by coming to the beach, I might as well go near the ocean. If I like anything about the beach, it has to be the ocean. The way the waves rolled in and out rhythmically, always constant. It's peaceful, unlike the ten children splashing around in the shallow water, but I smiled. I took a moment and stared out toward the ocean, watching the white ripples of waves crashing in the distance. I didn't realize there was anyone next to me.
"Your cup is empty." I jumped, the voice startling me out of my trance. I whirled around to find a red-headed kid next to me. It was you. You were about my height, and I guessed you were probably near my age too. Turned out I was right.
"W-w-what?" I managed. I remember you had freckles scattered across your face because of spending a lot of time in the sun, and your hair was curled back automatically, like it always is, which I'm still jealous of by the way. It's okay though, I don't mind that much. You gestured toward my hand.
"Your cup is empty," you repeated, unphased by my confusion. I looked down, remembering now that I was holding the glass from the kitchen.
"Uh yeah, I guess it is." I said lifting it to examine it closer.
"There's this saying about seeing the glass half full or half empty, but it's hard to see it either way when it's just plain empty." You pointed out, using one of your ridiculous proverbs, which I later learned was a thing you did regularly. I moved forward a few steps into the water, bent down and scooped up some water into the glass. "My name is Don."
"Better?" I asked, holding the glass towards you so that you could see.
"Much better if you ask me," you said, and a smile clung to your face. The smile you still wear now."

The room was mostly dark, with the exception of one window, in through which light streamed into the haunting study.  At that moment, Jessy entered the room, and shrieked in terror. In the far corner of the room, James sat with Don's head cradled across his lap, muttering words to the corpse in the dark, and in the hands of the corpse, a glass. "See how the corners of your mouth go up? I knew then that you would be my best friend."
"James? James!" Jessy called across the room, but James just kept muttering. Jessy ran across the room towards James and tried to pull him away from the body, but James just clung tighter.
"I told myself I'd never let you go." James muttered, as he stroked the hair of the dead twenty-four year old man.
Jessy was hyperventilating in between screams of "JAMES!" as tears rolled down her face.
"James, please look at me James! James, please! James!"
Eventually the other siblings were called, and James was separated from the body and nursed back to his bed, still muttering. "We met over an empty glass."

I wake up to the sound of traffic. My eyelids flicker open and all around me, all I can see, is darkness. I scour the world for a sign of anything, anyone. The horns continue to blare, cars moving along invisible pavement. "Am I blind?" I ask, tentatively, groping at the air.

"No," and as it speaks, all the sound ceases to exist. Who is this that sound obeys him? Glancing around, I fail to see anything. I shuffle a bit, waiting.

"You are not blind. However, you have chosen to cover yourself up. Quite well, I might add."

"Let me see."

"Ah, but I've spoken to you before, and you've chosen not to listen." With that, the sounds erupted all around me once again, in a cacophony. The man was still speaking, I tuned out the rest of the noise, the music, the horns, the screeching tires and focused only on him. "You won't hear me if you do not have ears. You have covered those, with layer after layer of cloak. What are you hiding from?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Then, come, take off the cloaks."

"What cloaks?"

"The ones that obscure your vision," and as if on command suddenly I felt a great weight upon me, pulling me down. I collapsed on the floor, groaning. I strained and strained against the constraining cloaks, but they refused to shift.

"Help!" I managed, as the cloaks crushed me. Suddenly, the weight on me relaxed just a bit and I heard the sound of fabric being torn in two. Still, I lay. I struggled to rise and I felt a hand press me down.

"You can't do it. Be still and know who I am." I heard another ripping sound followed by another weight lifted. Things finally began to grow lighter. I saw light filtering through the layers. Elated, I began to tear at the covering, only to feel it grow thicker and stronger. The light began to fade. "You can't do it. Be still." And once again a cloak was torn. This time, as the light filtered through, I waited for the shadowy figure to assist me in tearing off the next layer. Often, when a new layer of light came I would grow excited and attempt to push ahead too quickly, slipping back into darkness. This stranger, whoever he was, was patient with me though.
As the inner layers began to tear, I started to cringe at the light. "Wait! Stop! This hurts!"

"Of course it does."

"Now I remember, I'm hiding because underneath... Well there's a lot of junk that I don't want anyone to see. It'd be better if you just leave now, so that you don't see it. Nobody can fix that stuff."

"I suppose you've been told so?"

"Yes, by everyone."

"Why should you believe them?" I paused, thinking. I didn't really have an answer. "Come, lean against me."

Rising from the carnage of shredded cloaks, I leaned against the man. His grip was firm, secure, loving. I felt a pain in my side as the cloak was shred. However, as soon as the cloak was gone, I grew lighter, happier. "More!" I demanded. This time a searing pain: I screamed. "Why does this hurt so badly?"

"Because you have held onto these cloaks for so long that they have become part of your very flesh." And at that moment, the cloak was free. I felt free. A wave of joy swept across me as I luxuriated in the feeling. I looked into myself for the first time in a while. I looked for the bitterness I felt. Rejection, anger, fury: gone.

I screamed again, this time from pleasure. "Keep going! Cut all the cloaks!" The cloaks were shred from my body, one at a time. As they shred, the world grew brighter and brighter. "Was the world ever this bright?"

The man just smiled, something I could finally see. As the last of the cloaks were cut away, I looked at him. He was a beautiful man, perfect, really. His features were that of one balanced, so well balanced that he could easily hold anyone or anything in check. With a final shredding sound, all the cloaks were cut but one. This cloak looked more like a veil, like the shimmering white material a bride would wear for her bridegroom. "Come, there is a feast for us." He said, gesturing towards a tall, oak gate in the distance. The two of us walked up a golden path, and as I walked through the doorway, the final cloak dropped from me and the world became immersed in glorious light.

I lie on the hill with my back on the ground with my eyes lightly closed, wishing I could stay like this forever. Kassie jabs me in the ribs. "No Luke!" she whispers harshly. My eyes flicker open at this jab to the landscape around me. Kassie lies next to me, a five foot eight short haired blond, cut short for practical reasons, with clear blue eyes. She lies belly first beside me on the hill, scraping forward to get a better glimpse of the scene below. She looks beautiful. At another time, at another place, I might like her. But that place isn't here or that time now. I look around, everything in the small valley is beautiful. The valley is bright at midday, the trees green, the little river looks dark clear blue, gurgling along the bottom. It looks gorgeous, the console has that effect on things: people included.

I roll over onto my stomach and crawl up alongside of Kassie, likewise peering from the crest into the valley below. The console has done its work there too, the house is tall and grand, reminding me of an old mansion, but not the Gothic imposing type, it has a nice quality to it. I wouldn't mind living there... I used to, after all. The house is surrounded by a garden with a fence around it. I look for the places where I scratched my name into the paint as a child, and where I knocked little holes, or broke sections of it. All that is gone now, the console has done its work, turning it a bright white the whole way along.

I miss my home, the hours spent throwing a ball against the wall, running around the garden. Those were when things were normal, before the world turned upside down. My parents were secret agents, I always knew that would probably result in them dying or something, I just hadn't imagined the full possible consequences. They trained me to fight in their stead. As a result, I'm probably the most adept fifteen your old guy you'll ever meet. "Look," Kassie points down to the entrance where a bright shiny car has driven up to the house, it looks like a Mercedes. It's most likely someone important, but not someone important enough for us to really care. We watch as a couple of armed soldiers get out bearing over sized guns followed by a man in a bright red suit.

"That could be him." Kassie whispers close to my ear, inadvertantly spitting into it.
"We don't know that," I return, edging a little further away.

The man with the bright red suit is spotless, as are all of his soldiers. They promptly march up to the door, knock, and gain entrance. We wait awhile longer, since we decided that it was better to attempt our raid just before twilight. For a while I follow a butterfly, flitting around the area, in and out between trees, along the crick, until it comes toward me and rests nearby. At least, I figure it's resting until it doesn't move. I scooch down and reach to touch it. I gently pick it up with my hand and hold it. It has grown cold from the sensation of death. I shiver and drop it back onto the ground, resuming my position. This too is a result of the console.

The console works on radiation, it releases moderate doses of radiation at a certain frequency, changing the overall appearance of an area, making it beautiful. The result of this beauty, though, is eventual death and decay. The Creed know that, but it doesn't stop them from distributing consoles. The Creed, a name without a face. No one really knows where they came from, not even the Alliance. I mean after all, that's why Kassie and I are here.

"How do you fight an enemy you can't see?" John Lucas asked me before I left.
"I don't know sir." I replied, unsure.
"Neither do I boy, neither do I."

Twilight is approaching, Kassie and I prepare to go into the house, checking and loading our pistols, not that they'll do much good if it comes down to a gun fight. We're both wearing metal repellent fields, but bullets might buy us some time. I'm a crack shot with a pistol, I can always make do.

The two of us creep along the edge of the hill, getting as close as possible. We've studied the habits of the men on guard, at this time of day there's only one, which we assume to be because they're eating dinner. This guard evidently isn't very well liked, for he is always on duty during dinner time, and he doesn't do a very good job of watching the landscape. Just now, I can just make him out playing a game on some electronic device. I survey the surrounding area one last time then grab Kassie's attention. We lock eyes and I nod.

I hold up my fingers and count down from five. At five I smoothly step out from the hill into plain sight. I weave my way along the grounds until I'm up against the fence. Running, in a situation like this, would be idiotic. The human eye quickly accounts for fast moving objects, much more than it does slow objects. Kassie follows after me about thirty seconds later, gliding along the lawn. One of things that makes her a valuable companion is how gracefully she moves. With a companion like Kassie, you don't have to worry about her making noise or tripping over objects, she always has control of her body. You just you have to watch yourself. Once she reaches me, the two of us slide closer to the entrance, the two of us hidden behind the fence. I slowly peer around the edge and locate the cellar door, from which we'll be entering. The garden is thick with plants, providing ideal cover to someone who would rather not be noticed. The cellar door lies on the side of the house. I slip back and motion for Kassie to do likewise. She too understands the importance of layout. She looks, moves back, looks at me, and nods. I hold up my hand again, repeating the countdown sequence. I watch my hand, it doesn't shake, like anyone normal persons's would. That's a result of steadiness training from my parents. I hit zero and slither alongside the plants, following the path cut open by the gardeners. I grimace as my foot kicks the smallest of sticks, Sloppy! I reprimand myself, reaching the wall. I watch as Kassie emerges, picking to instead go straight through the garden. I stand, impressed, as I watch her complete the task. I would probably have tripped, and definitely have made some noise getting through. Kassie manages the task in minimal time.

"Beat that," she whispers, her breathing slightly rugged from holding her breath.
"What, you want me to die?" She grins as if it to say "Yes, I want you to die." and we go back to the task at hand. Before we open the door, Kassie oils the hinges, to prevent unnecessary groaning. I slowly, open the door and it utters the smallest creak. We pause, but there's no response from the guard. I didn't expect there to be one. The two of us slip in through the open crack and we lithely make our way into the cellar.

The cellar is covered from floor to ceiling with my family's stuff. I feel drawn to a lot of it: photographs, baseball bats, and a lot of other things. But this is house number two, not one. We went to Kassie's place first. Kassie nudges me, "Remember, you can't take anything home. This stuff is soaked in radiation." I nod, relinquishing any hope of taking any of it with me. "We get what we need, and we get out." She reiterates. I nod again, and we make our way through the piles of objects, never again to be used. On the far wall hangs a picture of my parents and I from my eighth birthday. I feel the tears start to come up, but I will them down and blink rapidly. Now's not the time Luke. I swallow and Kassie and I reach the steps. The two of us silently climb the stairs. The distant sounds of a dinner party echo down: glasses clinking together, laughter, and music. I scrunch my nose in disgust. A dinner party in radiation, sounds like a pretty dumb idea to me. 

We reach the top of the stairs and I slowly turn the knob and peer through the crack. Light floods through, partially blinding me until my eyes adjust. When it does, the hall is empty. I motion for Kassie to follow, and we come through the door, slowly closing it behind us. No ends left untied. We're in a grey carpeted hallway with a staircase next to us. The two of us quickly climb the staircase, the carpet stifling the sounds of our movement. At the end of the hall, the light is on under the door and the toilet flushes. I firmly grab Kassie by the arm and the two of us slip into the closest room swiftly shutting the door behind us. We're in my parent's bedroom. The light is off, and all I can see is the light filtering in through the bottom of the door. I listen, and I hear the sound of our breathing and then the sound of water at the end of the hall. A door opens followed by the sound of muffled footsteps. The steps grow nearer and then go down the staircase. I breathe in the scent of my parents room one last time and then open the door. I walk through the door, and Kassie follows, shutting the door after me. The two of us make our way down the hall, reaching our destination, my dad's office. We open the door and shut it after us. I flick on the light switch and a very familiar looking room comes into view. "Home sweet home." I mutter, striding forward. The back wall is covered with a bookshelf, full of books and a door sits on the side of the wall. I look at the empty chair behind the desk in the center of the room. I miss you Dad. Emotions rise, but I quell them and get back to the task at hand. Kassie and I are here for my identity papers: nothing more, nothing less. We had already been to her house and succeeded. Now it was my turn. I sat down by the desk and stared at the front right side. I reached for the leg on the bottom and pushed in one of the edges. A small puzzle drew itself in front of me in the wood. My parents had taught me to solve this puzzle ages ago. I quickly worked my way through the minute but extensive workings in the desk, making my way to the vault where my papers lay. Twist, push, rearrange, solve. Click. I pushed in the last corner of the puzzle and flicked the switch that appeared. The wall disassembled and a folder came into view. It was a manila folder, not extremely fancy looking. I quickly flipped it open to check and noticed an envelope that I'd never seen before.

Kassie, who had been listening at the door, now flicks off the lights. Panic floods over me. I frantically shut the envelope, flick the puzzle shut and lunge forward, grabbing onto her arm. I pull her toward the side door, quietly pulling open the door, half shoving her inside and clambering in after her; I then draw it shut. Five seconds later, a light turns on in the office. Crap, we're in serious trouble. While the person in the adjacent room, moves about slowly, my eyes manically search the darkness for an escape. I search the sink, the walls, the shower, the toilet, and the tub full of water, but I see nothing of any hope. For the lack of a better word, we're screwed.

I look at Kassie, and can just make out her expression: astonishment. She glances sharply at me then runs forward, jumps into the air, and dives into the bathtub. I stare flabbergasted for about two seconds. What choice do I have? I run, jump, and dive into the bathtub after her. All the while I'm thinking what the heck did I just do?

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I ran from task to task, marrying myself to business in my decaying state of affairs. I watched. I knew. God slowly dropped into the background, even though I tried my best to keep Him involved. We both know it wasn't adequate. The weekend brought a lot of relaxation, and with it a lot of great effects. A lot of time spent focused on God... But we both knew it still wasn't adequate. Monday rolled around, life got busy. He didn't disappear, but He wasn't nearly as evident as either of us would have liked. It was the same old problem. The same old daze. How was I to fight something that ate all my time? I couldn't drop it, lock it down and crop it, and I certainly couldn't stop it.
So, I prayed for rain.
And then the rain came.
You'd think paralysis would be extremely disorienting for someone who spends all of his time in physical activity. It wasn't.

I reach down and try to grab my phone, but I can't hold on to it. My finger won't clench, and the sensation is numb. I should be concerned right? All I feel is peace though, despite my lack of control. I realize that I'm losing control of parts of my body, and I surrender that knowledge to God. "Take it God, you do all things for the good of those you love, according to your purpose."

Paralysis should be frightening. Perhaps my emotions were paralyzed. I don't think so. I kept everyone else's spirits up, they all seemed so frightened by the prospects. I can't let them worry, after all, I'm at peace, they should be too. I joke, laugh, and make bad puns. They still seem concerned. Why?
I've been praying for rain.
And then the rain came.

Paralysis is strange because you're so disabled and yet so able. My mind ran a mile a minute, working better than it often does when the rest of my body is functioning. Maybe because its load was lightened. My heart rate exploded, that was okay. After all, if I died, what then? Heaven right? Sure, that sucks for everyone else that knows me, but not really for me. Freedom, that's what I've always longed for. True, God-dependent freedom. And I was pretty close to having what I wanted, at least closer than I'd ever been before.

And then the rain came.

Losing sight of God in a world that is filled with distractions is easy. Solomon saw that, "All is vanity and a striving after the wind." I certainly read that phrase enough that I should have been able to recognize its application. I misunderstood my distraction, I thought I was distracted by one thing, when, in truth, I was distracted by a great many. Each one tugging at my heart, beckoning me away from Christ. Good gifts, some of God's best, but gifts not the giver. We both knew it wasn't adequate. I knew it. He knew it. It was merely a matter of time until something happened.

"STOP!"

The voice reverberated around the mental chamber of my imagination. I stopped. I had no choice after all, God had spoken. He pulled me to my knees, quite literally, and cried out Be still and know I am God. I looked up and saw him looking down, and understanding flooded my eyes. Pure, divine light filtered through the cracks of my heart, illuminating its dirty exposed core. I lay there and waited. And waited. "Can I get up now?" Be still and know I am God. "Can I get up now?" Be still and know I am God. I knelt, and waited, and looked up into the lantern of God's wisdom. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." and waited. Do you not know? Have you not heard? "Yes, Lord." Then he who has ears let him hear.

And then the rain came.

Retrospect. A word generally understood but not generally applied. What good is experience without the ability to learn from it? To forget the past is to relive a thousand agonies. God started to blend, against His nature and against my knowledge. And when He did, life became a thousand shades of grey. I can't fall into that trap again. I need the diligence of friendship that pulls me closer to God. If you're reading this, be that person. So I prayed, and then the rain came.

Don't forget, why you're here.
Don't forget, to keep standing.
Don't forget, what's he's done.
Don't forget, what you're meant to do, 
because you were made for so much more.
So don't forget.

This is a combination of fiction and nonfiction from a lit project. :)
(Oh, and PianoWizzy bit the dust today. Don't choke wiz.)

“What do you mean you're leaving!?” said Stevie, as anger and confusion melded into a passing tear. There are some things people never forget. The passing of a loved one, the day they realize they're in love, or the day a friend moves away. “Where are you going!?”

William Evans was a kid. He was one of Stevie's best friends. He had short brown hair and dark brown eyes. Most of the people in Covenant Fellowship Church knew him as a pastor's kid. Stevie knew him as one of his best friends. Will carried whatever he could get his hands on, whether it was gum under the table or a penny left on the side of the street. His pockets were always full of rubbish. William was smart, genuinely intellectual, and he knew how to think deeper thoughts. He always had this weight on his shoulders, the heavy weight of responsibility. Perhaps it was his pockets that weighed him down; all the discarded gum wrappers, change, and bottle caps started to accumulate into a condensed ball of adventure. Then there was the Bible. It was a tiny little brown thing he somehow manged to jam it into his oversized pockets. He'd pull it out, with its worn leather cover, and it would always seem to warm the hearts of other people. One thing is sure, it certainly had an unnatural effect on the people around it. These weighty objects gave him an usually serious demeanor, something he inherited from his dad, but that didn't stop him from joining them on their many expeditions.

All of the guys, there were four of them at that point, wore the same type of clothes: t-shirts, shorts, and the occasional sweater. It never really seemed to matter what they were wearing, as long as it kept them warm enough and their parents didn't mind. Bill McMullin, resident energizer bunny, was an advocate of shorts all year round. The others joined in too, they couldn't help it. They all had the impressionable attitude of young boys; it was this impressionability that marked them. They also shared this sort of on-the-go mentality among themselves. If they weren't doing something, they were looking for something to do. There was one time where they got bored at the church during their siblings' enrichment classes. They tossed around ideas, searching for something to do. “We could play tag,” Will suggested.

“Nope, we just played tag. Besides, I don't really like it anyway.” Stevie fiddled with his shoes. Bill backed him up on this one, as he too began to play with his shoe.

“What about hide and go seek?” Stevie suggested, wriggling out of his left shoe. A glint came into his eye, “Or better yet, what about hide and go seek with shoes?” Will wasn't instantly infatuated with the idea as he was afraid he wouldn't get his shoes back, but they eventually convinced him. Years were spent playing that game. Running with shoes, hiding shoes, and carrying shoes.

This continuous search for thrill led them to their love for exploration. It's something that they all shared; they all loved to search out undiscovered territory. It isn't just the boys though, it's an innate desire that man has. Perhaps deep down, everyone has that desire to explore.

What is known is that the desire to explore is what led them into the dark sewer tunnels. Will loved it. It was full of all kinds of random bits and pieces. The smell though, the smell was something that they all carried with them. The clinging odor of a thousand rotting objects flushed down the drainage hung on to their clothes, drenching them in a thousand scents, not many of them being pleasant. The dark sewer tunnels were endless. All there was to see was black and more black. The darkness encroached on them, it called them names. It laughed at their fear, and enjoyed every minute of their pain. It never left them, at least not entirely; darkness always lurked in the back of their minds. Some of them were better at hiding their fear than others. Stevie started to slow his walking. “Guys, I don't like this dark. What if we never come out?” He hated being a coward, but something was telling him this was both stupid and wrong. Bill dropped back to keep him company, “It's alright, it's just like the Christmas play song remember? 'Take a step of faith, take a step of faith. When you can't see your hand in front of your face just take a step of faith.'” Before they knew it they were laughing and singing. Bill somehow knew the only way to fight the darkness was to carry something else. In this case, a tune that eventually became a memory. Darkness was no longer omnipotent, it had a foe. A foe that challenged its strength: melody.

Countless songs flowed through their subconscious, whether it was “Jesus Loves Me” or other Christmas play songs like “Take a Step of Faith”. These songs reminded them of their support, of their faith. The songs lurked in their minds, waiting to be utilized in moments of trial. They all carried one uniting thing that few others really shared; they had a faith that held them to reality. It's this exact truth that they carried above everything else. They carried Christ close to their hearts, a remarkable devotion to something besides themselves. As much as they carried it, it carried them; they each leaned on it for support whenever something went wrong.

Troubles were finite, they came and they went, that was how life worked. That was how troubles were carried. Like the time it was raining and they were playing outside. The Evan's backyard was divided into thirds, the back third dropping into a lower area with mud and bamboo growing at the very back. Stevie was on the swing, the rest of the guys were down in “the pit,” a huge muddy lowered area in the back yard, playing kickball. Stevie was swinging back and forth until he suddenly felt the swing hit something as he swung back. Jane, Will's younger sister lay on the ground crying. The simultaneous desire to get as far away as possible and the overwhelming guilt that pulled him back overtook him in that moment, as vital as it seemed back then, faded away. That's the beauty of youth. That fleeting moment left no real scars, physical or mental, only memories As soon as something became too bothersome, they would give it to someone else. They bore the innocence of youth, all its advantages and all of its disadvantages.

Another member of the troop was Josh Demi, the short, shy kid always wearing his large glasses. His huge family's house was an excellent meeting place for our crew. There were unforgettable hours of playing indoor golf with a K-Nex windmill spent in the ancient mansion. Up the three flights of scarcely lit stairways to the top, this is where they shared scary stories that followed them into their dreams. The endless laughter that echoed through the large crowded bedrooms, lots of silly laughter, giddy laughter, and memorable laughter. One night, the four friends crept down the stairs, out the back porch, and up into the maple tree in the front yard. There was a lot of stifled giggling throughout that night. In the morning there was a rude awakening when they were pushed out of their perches to fall the eight feet to the ground. The four of them looked up to find Josh's brother and their dad howling with laughter at their screeches. They weren't punished further for sleeping in the tree, their punishment had already been inflicted. They were all ashamed of sneaking out to sleep in the tree, but at the same time, they wouldn't have traded anything for that experience. The laughter they had that night would follow them through their lives. They would remember when they were children, when every small thing was just as intriguing. The memories would seek after them.

The lake was beautiful in the summer at the church retreat. A small red boat sailed across the water. The summer light reflected off of the lake, a blinding reflection. “What do you mean you're leaving?!” The trembling tear, the dark expression of pain. Will shuttered and remained silent. He felt ashamed, he hadn't even had the guts to tell Stevie himself, he had to get his dad to do it. Those events that seemed so important, so vital to the future. The events that made one question whether or not they would survive. The scars of a broken friendship, split apart by thousands of miles. The shame that he carried until it finally faded away into an intangible blob of confused feelings. The two boys shook hands and said their goodbyes.

The beauty of youth is innovation, and appreciation for the small things in life. This wonder and appreciation for the magnificent world around seems to fade as most people get older. It's a shame, really. Will, Stevie, Bill, and Josh knew something about the world, something they couldn't help but believe. They believed that the world is a place of excitement and adventure. It is this knowledge that drove them up the maple tree, through the tunnels, and into the nooks and crannies of hiding places. They had a simple faith in the world around them. They believed in God and that there were things to do and people to see. They were innocent and impressionable. They were unmarked by the events in their life, but rather strove forward into more expeditions. It was even true that day on the lake, the day when Will left.

The lake was a large one, ringed with trees along the edge with a few clearings scattered across the far side. The single little red boat was sailing across it, slowly making its way toward the opposite side of the lake.

“Goodbye Will,” said Stevie, looking Will in the eyes.

“Bye Stevie,” said Will, returning his gaze. In that handshake passed an understanding. I'll see you in a few years, okay? said Stevie's eyes. You know it. We'll share all our stories, returned Will. The two held the glance for a second or two, then dropped it to look off toward the lake. In a minute or two Will's dad urged Will off toward the car. As Stevie watched, Will's car disappeared around the corner of the road. He turned to look out toward the lake. The little red boat had disappeared...

(Looks like we lost one yesterday, ExtremeJengaChamp forgot to post.)
"I don't want to go bungee jumping." I repeated for about the twelfth time.

(Inspired by Del's post here)

"Dominic... Right?" I ask the eight year old that looks remarkably like an eight year old version of myself.

"Yup!" he says, fiddling with a ball that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Wana play catch?"

"Uhh, sure why not." I grin as I remember my original description of him that praised his cleverness and wit. Yup, some things just never change.

"Catch!" he yells and beams the bouncy ball in my direction. "Haha you missed it!" He grins as I scramble after it. For the first time, I actually begin to take note of my surroundings. It seems that somewhere in the process of recalling Dominic I decided the Demi's backyard was a good place to set the scene. That's odd.

"Yeah, it kind of just happens sometimes. Weird right?" says Dominic as fidgets with his buttons.

"How?" I begin.

"I'm a detective genius. Remember?" I toss the ball toward him, throwing it well over his head so that he too has to scramble after it. I facepalm as I remember Dominic's detective identity. He may not be as smart as I thought back in the day, but he's still pretty brilliant for an eight year old.

"Hey now, you're a catch without inviting me? I feel terribly offended." I turn to the voice and see some dude dressed in hipster clothes approaching me. He is probably just under six foot, he wears a sweater vest and dress shirt sleeves and skinny jeans. His blond hair is swept across his face, accentuating his delicate clean-shaven features.

"Who's that!" Dominic yells from the other side of the yard.

"I have no idea." I admit, shrugging my shoulders.

"You mean you don't know me? The essence of exceptional speech, the king of managing the tongue. The master of eloquence and chivalry. Your most prized and treasured creation!" He then swept into a low bow.

"Oh yeah, I know who you are." I grin. "Silvertongue right?"

"He talks funny. Are you from England?" asks Dominic, which is a perfectly logical assumption for an eight year old to make.

Silvertongue mutters something about simpletons and the annoyance of small children. Despite his uppity attitude, he has always been one of my favorite characters. "Throw me the ball," growls Silvertongue with a scowl that didn't quite belong on his features.

I look Silvertongue up and down again. "Why are you dressed like someone from my school on a spirit day?"

Silvertongue follows my eyes to his clothes, "I haven't the slightest idea." Silvertongue says sarcastically. "You're the author, shouldn't you know I just got back from shopping?" I roll my eyes. Of course. Shopping. "Speaking of you being the author what happened to my story?" Luckily, just then Dominic threw the ball at Silvertongue, distracting him. Roy hops over the fence. Whoa, Roy. That's a throwback. I rub my eyes to make sure. The one thing I'm beginning to notice is that I didn't finish any of their stories.

"Hey Stevie," he says and joins the circle.

"Wait, why does he get to call you Stevie?" asks Dominic, crossing his arms crossly.

"For once the boy makes some sense!" chimes in Silvertongue.

"Did I say you couldn't?" I ask them.

"I suppose not," says Silvertongue, and does a backflip just for kicks. Whoa. Forgot about that. I look at Roy, curious as to whether or not I forgot something about him too. He's never one to disappoint.

"Want a piece of gum?" Roy offers...

"Ooh, thanks," I say reaching forward to grab a piece. Before I knew it, Dominic was there and grabbed it instead of me. When did he get so fast?

"YOUCH!" he yells and jumps a good foot into the air. I laugh till my sides hurt, nor am I alone. Roy had tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard, and even Silvertongue was chuckling.

When I finally recover from my laughter, I look up to see Hans standing next to Silvertongue. "There you are! Lazy slug, I wondered where you had disappeared to so conveniently in the mall." Silvertongue turns on me resentfully, "Why did you have to make him so lazy? I was in line with a large number of packages and evaporated as soon as any work was to be done. I had to put on a light show to escape."

I point an accusing finger at him, "When did you get so whiny? You were perfectly appreciative before. Seriously, what happened to the whole optimism thing?"

He shrugs, "I forgot."

"The change is for the better if you ask me." Mutters Hans, who always seems to be muttering. "His perky hopefulness was just irritating." The short brown haired boy walked off into the house, presumably to get some food. I look around and noticed that my characters are beginning to scatter throughout the yard. Dominic is over on the swing, watching us talk. That leaves Silvertongue, Roy, and I still in the circle. For the first time I take note of Roy's attire. I was surprised by how normal he looked until I realized he was just that, a normal kid.
"I do have a question," Roy and Silvertongue watched me patiently. "Where are Peregrine, Bob, and Lelio?"

"Did somebody say our names?" roars Bob from around the corner. The three quickly come into view, each exactly as I imagined them.

"Now these three I remember." I grinn as Lelio trips over his out-of-place robe. I'm glad he's still wearing his robes though because I can't really imagine him any other way. Bob is dressed like he's about to go hiking. I began to wonder not for the first time if his character is based off of Hiker Bob from Pokemon. I shrug, it doesn't really matter.
Peregrine walks up to me, yet another character that is eerily close to me. "Hey."

"Um, what's up?" I ask him. Having a conversation with yourself is extremely disconcerting. I eventually give up my feeble attempts at conversation and focus on the very interesting groups that have formed. Dominic decided to follow Hans inside, probably for similar reasons. I can see them talking through the window. They seem to be having a grand time. Meanwhile, Roy and Silvertongue have become fast friends, their joking nature forming a quick bond between the two. Which leaves Peregrine and I.

"Funny huh?" he says to me and points toward the groups.

"Yeah." I say, scratching the back of my head. Something seems to be missing, I just can't quite place it.

"Seriously? Dude, they're all guys." Peregrine facepalms. "Luna isn't even here." I raise an eyebrow at him questioningly. "You know that's not what I meant," says Peregrine. I just grin and point toward Luna walking through the fence door, looking slightly confused. Peregrine's face lights up for a second before he mask his emotions.

"Perhaps you should go explain what's going on." I say, nudging him.

"Yeah... Okay," says Peregrine as he hurries off. I feel kind of bad for doing that to him, but at least it proved that we're different. I actually hadn't planned for any romantic qualities between the two of them in the story, but you throw a guy and a girl together in a story and the temptation of that eventual prospect is just too tempting. I observe my characters from a stump. Ernie has joined Luna and Peregrine, completing the trio. Silvertongue is showing Roy something extremely fiery that looks like a lot of fun. I'm pretty sure inside Dominic and Hans have engaged in a chugging contest. As I watch them, the sky darkens out of nowhere. The yard that was once bright and colorful is now dark and gloomy. Looking up the sky, I see something that I probably should have expected. Malus.

The villain dismounts from the giant shadow that is actually a black dragon. Odd, I didn't know he could ride it. I think as my perfect villain approaches me. His grimy outer appearance is matched only by his inner flaws. When he reaches me he grabs me by my collar and picks me up. "Hey Malus." I venture.

"Look what you've done to me!" he appears to be falling apart slowly, like a broken stone. "Where is it!?"

"Ahhh..." I say, grinning. "That's what you're looking for!" In a fury Peregrine came out of nowhere with a sword and started to fight Malus. Malus dropped me and focuses on his adversary drawing his own sword. Trechio, I decide. The sword is new, but fitting for his character nonetheless. Peregrine hacks, stabs, and parries in a whirl of activity. Malus is better though, he is more skilled with the blade. I grin as I see Luna sneaking up behind him, bearing a cooking pot too. Finally, Luna gets close enough and takes a swing at the busy villain and cracks him on his head.

Light floods my eyes and I lose my vision. When my eyes finally recover, the yard is empty of characters. I sigh, sitting down once again on the stump. I feel a hand tap me on the shoulder. I turn around to find Silvertongue standing behind me. "Stevie, I have a few ideas for the story..."