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Sally

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LuCA {Chapter Thirteen}

LuCA {Chapter Thirteen}

(c) Akire Zyll Flickerclaw

Aster Hawking had banged on the unrelenting stone for hours. He had called Mila's name over and over, tried to find some lever to open the door, and had even considered getting some dynamite and blowing it open. Finally, he sat down on the ground in despair. "I'm getting too old for this," he said to the symbols. They didn't respond.

He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and took a long sip of water from his canteen. He looked back up at the door and muttered a curse under his breath. But what he saw next made him sit up in astonishment and scramble backwards. The hieroglyphs were glowing with the same blue light again, only this time it spread throughout the entire cave. Hawking's flashlight flickered and died. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

And then Mila Arwyr crashed back through the solid stone. Softening her landing with a roll on the stone floor, she sprang up and blinked a few times, as if getting her bearings. "Mila!" Hawking exclaimed, glad to have his friend returned to him. Mila turned to him, an odd calculating look in her eyes, then blinked rapidly and seemed to recognize him again. "Oh. Hawking. It's you." Her voice was strange, distant sounding. She shook her head from side to side. "How long was I in there?"

He checked his watch. "Over three hours."

"What? It felt like...I don't know, maybe twenty, thirty minutes?" She noticed his bloody hands. "What have you been doing while I was out?"

"Trying to get through that blasted door," he said. "But it wouldn't move."

"Hmm," she said, looking at the door. Hawking noted that the symbols on the walls had faded. The only ones that were lit up were the closest to Mila. Her eyes were glowing slightly, and her robe seemed to be too light and quick to move with her. She crossed back to the wall and placed her hand on it. The symbols glowed under her hand, and there was a high pitched note that sounded like a flute. Mila took her hand away, smiling.

"There, now no one will be able to--" she broke off mid sentence and cocked her head to one side. "Do you hear that?"

"No, I--"

"Shhh," she quieted him. They stood for a moment in complete silence, and then Mila's eyes widened. Her pupils shrunk and she stood up pin-straight. "They're here," she whispered. "They've found me." She walked quickly over to Hawking in two long strides and pulled him up off his seat on the ground.

They raced past the stone pillars, halfway up the steps, until they could see the first light of dawn shining from the hole at the top of the stairway. Mila cautiously ascended the steps, keeping her body pressed to the wall and her head low. She peeked over the top of the coverstone.

Between fifteen and twenty people were walking in and out of the tents. As she watched, one of them picked up her tablet and began scrolling through it. Another selected one of Hawking's shoes and peered inside it. They seemed to be looking for something. With a sudden deprive of air, Mila spotted two of the people carrying a camel's body onto a large silver craft. Gamelru. The animal's eyes were blank and staring.

Mila blinked away tears, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Suddenly, the heads of all the people in the encampment turned to her as one. It was eerie and unreal. One of them pointed a hand at her, and several others drew long, dark blue guns out of their belts and fired. They didn't make a sound, but Mila ducked in a split second and the impact shattered the coverstone behind her. There was no sound, but the large stone cracked into four pieces.

Mila turned to Hawking, who was clutching his canteen with sweaty hands. "What's happening out there?" he whispered. "They've seen us," she answered. "We need to get out of here." She grabbed his hand and turned--

And stared into the bright green eyes of one of the people. Instantly, she took her free hand and slapped the man across the face. His head turned slightly, but he seemed unperturbed. His hand flew up and caught hers, twisting it at an angle until she heard a crack and pain almost blinded her. He let go of her hand and it fell to her side. He pulled out the blue gun from his belt.

No, Mila thought, her head a blur. I'm going to die. I'm going to die before I've even begun.

Then there are gunshots. Hawking's hand falls away from hers. She blinks to keep her eyes open, but they close anyways. Unrelenting blackness swarms over her vision.

Fireflies (5:5)

24 Years Later

It's raining again. It has for the past week or so. It's cold. I'm cold. My boots are soaked through with the rainwater and the dew. I hold a black umbrella over my head, but it does little to keep away the tears rolling down my face.

My hair has escaped it's ponytail. It's in my face and I can barely see the double grave through the tears and the hair. Two tombstones, side by side. One here since twenty-four years previously, one only three months fresh. They have my parents' names on them.

My father died the morning after I wandered into the woods looking for a firefly. He went out looking for me in his truck. He was worried, the tires were old, and he wasn't paying attention to the stoplight. He crashed into a pedestrian. The man died instantly, but my father suffered fatal injures to the head and passed away a few minutes before an ambulance reached him.

My mother died a few months ago, of a stroke. In her sleep, lying in her bed at my old house. The doctors were unable to explain the cause of the stroke, but I knew the answer. Twenty-four years of mourning had finally taken their toll on her fragile body.

I sold the house only recently, to a young couple and their twins. There's too much pain there for me to handle anymore.

Today is my parent's anniversary. I bring flowers for my mother. She liked purple tulips best. I've grown them myself, and I try to hold back a sob as I place them on her grave. My father has a different gift.

I pull out a jar from a brown paper bag. I kneel down beside my father's grave and unscrew the cap. The object inside flutters out. A firefly.

Look Daddy, I whisper. I caught it all by myself.

I begin to cry in earnest now. The knot inside my chest doesn't go away, it only grows colder and spreads throughout my whole body. I bury my face in my hands and sob.

I don't know how long I sit there, but when I lift my head up, it's dark outside. I get up from the grass, sniffing, and turn away from the graves. The knees of my jeans are soaked through. I leave the umbrella and run from this place, not slowing until I vault over the gate and jump into my car.

I take a minute to calm down, then I start the ignition. I drive all the way to the bridge overlooking a rushing river in a haze. I get out of the car, click the keys, and leave them on the windshield.

The water looks cold. But I've had so many cold things in my life that it seems right to end with something freezing as well. I swing my legs over the rail and brace my feet on the sliver of pavement on the other side. The torrent of water is so far below. I wonder if I'll survive the fall, or if my death will come when I drown in the depths. Will they bury me beside my parents? Or in some other place, far from my parents' graves?

My hands grasp the railing, but it's slick with rain water. What do I have left to live for? I let go.

And I do not fall. Someone grabs me from behind and pulls me back from my death. Let me go!, I scream. Leave me alone! I'm supposed to die!

You're important. You are not going to die.

I recognize the voice, even though I've only heard one word from him in my life and it was many years ago. I try to twist around, but the man drags me backwards. I start to scream again. I finally twist myself free to see...no one.

No one? I'm standing next to my car. In a daze, I grab my keys off the windshield, unlock my car, and climb in.

When I reach my apartment, I flop down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. The clock on my bedside ticks. Outside a cat meows in the night. The minutes drag on until the sky becomes light again and I voice my thoughts to the ceiling.

I'm important, I say aloud. I am not going to die.

[[I will have an "reflections" post in 5 days so if you want some questions cleared up, ask them then. Thanks!]]

Stuck- {Dream}

Stuck

A Speech (c) by Dream

This year is oral speaking, so I had to create a speech. This is what I got-

That was when I realized I was dead. I was stuck.

            I had that feeling. You know that feeling. That feeling where you think, you know, you are being watched, but no one’s around. My skin burned as unknown eyes watched me. I searched and searched for those penetrating eyes, but I found none. None, though I had lived here for eternity, though I knew, those eyes were always there. Watching, and waiting, just to punish me, never letting on of what I was doing here, in solitude.

I never knew why I had been brought here. I don’t remember. It had been so long since I woke up, to find myself in a dense forest. I had tried to get out, to go back to the living world, but each time I tried, I would fall back in terror. Creatures of other worlds would erupt from thin air. I ran. I always ran. I didn’t want to die. Dying… It was terrifying to think of. Could I even die here? I didn’t know. But I believed I could.

Couldn’t I just let myself die? Let the terror end. I would go to Heaven then, wouldn’t I? But somehow, I couldn’t do it. I still believed there was hope for a normal life for me. In the back of my mind, I knew that this would be my end. I would die here. But they wouldn’t have that, those eyes. They wouldn’t let me die. They wanted to watch me like a science experiment. Whenever I tried to kill myself, I would suddenly appear somewhere else, safe.

This dimension, I had started to call it by a name a while ago. I called it Oblivion. Oblivion… Seems like a fitting name. As nothing here seemed to be real and just disappeared and appeared at its own liking.  It was like that here. I could think of something, and it would appear. Just like that, it would materialize. It was actually quite wonderful. But living things wouldn’t stay. They would disappear eventually. That’s when I would break down, because I was truly the only living thing here.

Living, breathing, and solitude. I couldn’t include much else in my list. I didn’t even know who I was even more. My name, how old I was. Sometimes, when I encountered a puddle, I would see my reflection. Then the eyes would make it disappear. I looked like I was young, very young. But I couldn’t be sure from quick glances. I barely had any memories of these glances. Every few days memories of my reflection, or anything else that had to do with finding out who I was, would fade. The eyes did that. I was sure of it. They didn’t want me to know. They wanted me to live in a mystery.

I had never been hurt here. I don’t know why. It just had never happened. I had never had any cuts, no bruises, nothing. Today was different. Today I had stepped on a sharp stone walking along the river. It had bled for a second. A second.  When I checked, there was no cut, nothing. Sure, I had scars from when I had lived on Earth. Those never went away, but I knew now, that something was wrong. Even if I was in a different dimension, the cut shouldn’t have healed like that. I sat down and thought. Thought of what this place could be.

The day soon turned to darkness. Pitch black darkness. Pure black, no light, just as the day had no dark, all white. I kept thinking even in the looming blackness. Until, a terror filled idea hit me. I knew now. I knew the truth. Memories came flooding back, of myself.  I was remembering now that I knew the truth about Oblivion. I watched my memories, feeling greedy at finally being able to experience them. But only one memory came. My death.

I saw myself in school. I was nine years old. And it was the year of 1995. It was recess time, and many students noticed a dark figure circling the school. We took no notice though, knowing the teachers would take care of it. I saw myself hide by the gate to the playground. My friends and I were playing hide-and-seek tag. I heard the gate open, and hit me slightly, as the dark figure walked into the playground. I stared at him with wide eyes, wondering what he was doing. Then, he grabbed me.

I screamed. I was lifted off of the ground, and off of my feet. He was holding me by the neck, choking me. I then felt something cold pressed against my head. Kids started to scream, and teachers shouted. I heard only one word out of the screaming mass. “Gun”. I knew I was going to die, either by being shot, or being choked to death. I didn’t know what the man wanted. I only felt myself die, and, that was it. That was my end.

I gasped. I was back in Oblivion. I was nine years old. I rolled myself into a ball and wept. It had been so long ago. So ever long ago… yet, I was still nine.

That was when I realized I was dead. I was stuck. Stuck here, in between. The eyes couldn’t make me forget this memory now that I knew the truth. I walked over to the large lake. I looked into it, and I was looking down into Earth. It was changed greatly. Then, I saw the reflection of clouds. Of Heaven. I was too stunned for words. This was where I would forever be. Stuck.

The Second Trumpet ~ Return

After the horribly messed up summer, the students of Mansfeild Middle School, return as 8th graders, about to delve into another mystery.

Chapter 1: Return

Backpack slung carelessly over her shoulder Kasta, flanked by Sara and Jasmine, was the first person in the school when doors opened on the first day in September.

“Wow.” Remarked Kristy as she huffed up the stairs. “Eighth grade! The big shots! Top of the totem pole! Too bad next year we'll be back at the bottom...”

Alex was right behind Kristy on the stairs with her usual sarcastic remarks. “Sure it's great getting to scare the little sixth graders because we're just so intimidating, but I feel like there are about twenty bricks in my backpack, and we haven't even gotten any of our textbooks yet.”

“It's not the way it's supposed to be.” A melancholy Kasta whispered. “Everything should have been better, not worse. We were supposed to be heroes! We had a chance, and, well, we lost it.”

“Kasta. Listen. It's eighth grade. It's going to be an awesome year. So let's start fresh and not think about it. Here- they've got our homeroom postings over on that corkboard. We can find our homerooms, get our lockers and schedules and before long everyone will have forgotten about the summer.” Sara sensibly put things, and dragged the others over to the board. Her bright mood was dampened however, when she saw who her homeroom teacher was. “Ugh....” She groaned. “Anything but Mr. Camp. No no no no no. I hear he's purely awful” She buried her head in her hands.

Jasmine ran her finger down the lists. “Oh!” She said with a smile. “I've got Mrs Rinaldi. I've heard that she's ok, not awesome, not terrible.”

Suddenly Kristy jumped up. “YES!” She exclaimed with glee. “I've got Ms Schzer. Yes yes yes!”

The others all glared in her general direction.

“Sorry...”

Alex sighed. “Kasta, you and I are with Mrs Welker. Great, just great. Our psychotic health teacher for homeroom. Yay.”

“Oh NO. That's the room that gave me all those asthma problems last year too. We're doomed.”

•••

Schedule in hand Kasta and Alex met Sara, (who was in a bad mood after meeting Mr Camp) and Jasmine across the hall from their homeroom for French class with Ms Schzer. The room was colorful and bright as usual, and the four headed for spots at the table in the back. Carl tried to wave Kasta over to the seat next to him but she mouthed 'No way.' to him and he turned away looking dejected. The two had been going out during the past school year, but Carl dumped Kasta after her parents died in a plane crash. After Kasta's discovery at the end of seventh grade however, Carl was suddenly anxious to be her boyfriend again.

Kasta thought he was a slimy, good-for-nothing jerk.

After a class in which nothing got accomplished, they all ended up in the same place again, for social studies with Mrs Rinaldi, and then science with Mr Camp, who was, as Sara had predicted, a terrible teacher already. Their social studies class had seemed promising though. Mrs Rinaldi's first impression had been nice enough, she at least had some sense of humor anyway.

After a long, tediously boring science class, Kasta groaned as she looked at her schedule. “We still have one block before we get to eat, it's health class which already makes it bad, AND Kristy's not with us. Our only classes with her are full band and chorus.”

During health, once again Kasta found herself coughing. The room hadn't gotten any better than last year- if anything, it was worse. Sighing she got to her feet and walked out of the room to get the attack under control and to get her inhaler from her locker. Mrs Welker took no notice, this was a common experience for Kasta in her classroom.

Kasta walked out of the door, and turned left down the 8^th grade wing, when she nearly ran straight into Mrs Ochono walking with the math teacher Ms. Murder, who was not as mean as the name suggested. In fact, most people said that she was the best eighth grade teacher at the school. However she regarded Kasta's cough with suspicion. Mrs Ochono however, simply heaved a great sigh. “Couldn't get through even the first day, Kasta?”

Kasta just glared, coughed and fiddled with the lock on her locker, which she opened and grabbed her inhaler, which she shook and took immediately. “Shame, I know. I had hoped my particular problems associated with Mrs Welker's room might have dissipated over the summer, sadly, it's worse.”

•••

“Ms Murder made a face that was something like a grimace and said 'Well, Mrs Ochono has been telling me quite a lot about you, Kasta. I have to say, I'm looking forward to having you in my class.'” Kasta explained to her friends at lunch after.

“I had her for math this morning.” Said Kristy “She's a good teacher. Really knows her stuff, and is really nice actually.”

“Good.” Remarked Alex. “Because goodness knows I could do with a good teacher.”

Soon after, the bell rang for the beginning of fifth period and the five friends trooped up the stairs to their lockers to get their binders for the afternoon's classes. Kristy then headed to her science class, Jasmine to language arts, and Kasta, Alex and Sara to Ms Murder's Algebra I math course, along with Jason and Owen. Kasta smiled broadly throughout the period. THIS was a required class she would enjoy, unlike the junk she'd been getting in every other core class today.

Much too soon the class had ended though, and the three girls, with Jason in tow, went back to Mrs Rinaldi's for language arts. Kasta was not impressed, she had not been totally happy with that morning's Social Studies course, and LA looked like it was going to be even worse. Unlike math, she and the others were happy when the period was over, and felt cheered to begin a final study hall block at the end of the day. Finally, the long first day back was over. Kasta hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders, grabbed her laptop and waved goodbye to her friends, as she walked down the hallway toward that band room. There was important business to attend to.

Fireflies (4:5)

When I wake up, I'm not dead. I know because I'm sore. When you die, you don't hurt anymore. Do you?

I sit up very slowly. My body still aches. Did I fall out of that tree? Or was that a dream?

I look around. I lie at the edge of the forest, facing the hill and my house. My house!

I struggle up and sprint towards it, past the magnolia tree, up the hill, and then I have to catch my breath. I keep going, until I turn the knob on my screen door, and then the second door, and burst in.

It's completely silent. Not a sound.

I hear a phone ring in my dad's office, and I run towards the room. I'm at the door when I hear my mother pick up the phone.

Hello? I hover at the door, afraid to break the silence. She listens for a minute, then bursts into tears and starts wailing.

I open the door and run to her. The shock registers in her face. She starts to so even harder. I run to her and bury my face in her skirts. She clutches to me like we are the only two people left alive. Why is she crying?

Mom? Mom, what happened? Mommy!

She doesn't answer, she just presses me closer.

Where's Daddy? Mom! Mom!

Moving Into Middle School (Chapter Two)

OMG! Hawaii is awesome! I just got here, and it's so hot here!! But it's ok because there's a lot of water. I heard that there's a surfing club at my new school. Also, there are weekly visits to the beach. AWESOME!! So, to continue...

"Hello Autumn!" The plump lady at the front desk smiled to me. "Welcome to Kauai Middle and High School!"

"Thanks!" I looked around the room as the lady went to the back, bringing back my new books and some pamphlets, too. It was small with a half dozen puffy navy chairs pushed against the ocean blue wall. A table was in the corner of the room. On the table was a glass dolphin (the dolphin is the school mascot) and a few yearbooks. There were two other ladies in desks. They all had dolphin stuffed animals, glass figures, mugs, and more.

"Here you go!" The plump lady said happily. She handed me the books. I gently put them in my copper-colored backpack. It had red, brown, yellow and red leaves on it (not real ones). I picked up my bag, then grabbed the pamphlet.

"Thanks!" I smiled and went out into the hall. I looked in the pamphlet. "Great!" I said to myself. "A map!" I looked down a hallway, then looked at my locker number. 384, it said. I looked at the lockers. "378..." I said. I looked forward a bit. "3680...382...384!" I tried to remember what the lady told me. Right! My locker code is 15, 12, 57, 8, 20. I put it in, and the door popped open. I was glad that school started late on the first day, and that we had no real classes until next week. I took out a bag of decorations. Soon my locker was covered in pictures of cats. The walls were furry leopard, tiger, snow leopard, and lion-print. They weren't real, but they looked and felt just like the real thing.

I put my books on the top shelf. On the bottom shelf I put a stuffed animal cat and my swimming trophies. I couldn't wait for class to start.

"Hey!" Someone tapped me on the back. It was Penn.

"Hi Penn!" I smiled. "So you go here, too?"

"Yeah, and..." He studied his pamphlet. "My locker number is 382. Right next to yours!"

"Great!"

"So, who's your homeroom teacher?" Penn asked as her opened his locker and took out his football posters.

"Err.....Mrs. Willow."

"Me too!" Penn smiled as he set up his decoration. "Let's go then!" And we set off towards room 264.

Fireflies (3:5)

It seems like a dream. I sit with my back against the tree I fell from. There's a light in front of me. Not a pretty, calm green light like the fireflies, but a light like a fire. Everything's fuzzy. I can't see anything but shapes and vague colors. I feel bruises all over me. My head hurts. I can't feel my fingers. I'm cold. I'm cold.

I slowly try to move my left hand. Pain shoots through it, and I make a strangled sound deep in my throat. I flex my toes tentatively. That's not so bad. Neither is my right hand. I raise this one slowly to my head. But I stop, because I see that I'm wearing a dark suit jacket that is so much bigger than my frame that it looks like it would fit my dad. My hand touches the papery feeling of a bandage. Bigger than a band-aid. A lot bigger.

I'm starting to see normally again. It takes effort to blink, but I manage to. There is a fire in front of me. I was right with that one. It's warm. I try to inch nearer to it, but pain courses through my veins and I get dizzy and start to black out again.

I tilt my head up. There's no fireflies overhead anymore. Maybe it's the smoke, but the fire seems like it's weak and dying. Only the embers are left now. I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and I tilt my head downwards. There's a man standing just inside of the light of the fire. Dark pants, a white collared shirt and a tie. He's bald but wearing a black hat.

I try to say something, but I can't form the words. He comes over to me and holds out something in his hands. It's a firefly, and it looks almost like it's sleeping.

No, I say, and shake my head stubbornly. I'll catch one myself, or not catch one at all.

He doesn't say anything, but stands up. I'm starting to wonder if he can't talk, or just doesn't want to. He tilts his head on the side. I do the same thing, imitating him. He smiles, just a little twitch at the edges of his mouth. Then his face goes serious and he pulls something out of his pocket. I know what it is. A gun. I struggle to get up, but I can't. My pain is weighing me down, and I start to get dizzy again. This time the black starts to eat away at me.

The man points the gun at me, at my chest. I manage to choke out a few words.

Am I going to die?

He responds with a one-syllable answer. No.

He fires the gun. It doesn't make a sound, but a blue light rushes out of it and hits me. I go limp, and my world dissolves into black and blue and a one word promise.

LuCA {Chapter Twelve}

LuCA {Chapter Twelve}

(c) Akire Zyll Flickerclaw

When Mila awoke, she could hear nothing. She was lying on her side in a circular room lit only by a blue light that seemed to come from nowhere. She sat up, rubbing her head, and looked around. The walls of the room were covered in the same glyphs that had appeared on the walls of the previous room.

The previous room....Hawking! She struggled to her feet, the blood rushing to her head. She leaned against the wall. When she had regained her vision and senses, she ran her hands over the symbols. They matched those on the outside of the room, on the door. She willed them to open. Nothing happened.

"Great," she said aloud. "I'm stuck in here." She crossed to the other side of the room. It only took her a few paces. "And where is this light coming from?" she voiced angrily. There was no reply. "Figures," she said.

Mila Arwyr?

"What?" The new voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Like speakers into a prison cell.

Oh, you aren't in a prison. It's better than that. Much better.

"Then where am I?" Mila asked. "And who are you?"

You are in a facility that the Llachar created in order to communicate with their brethren on Terra. I am the guardian of this place. My voice mimics the patterns of the Llachan scientist Aphis Sol.

"Llachar, Llachar, Llachar. Why do I keep hearing so much about them?"

You're important, Mila.

"People keep telling me that too. What I want to know is why I'm important."

You have a great destiny ahead of you. You will be crucial to the survival of the Llachar. You are the last of them left on this earth.

"I'm a Llachar?"

Llachan, to be exact. The Llachar were a great people. Very advanced, very powerful. But they were killed by their own success. One of their creations turned against them. They multiplied, and swore to destroy any Llachar left alive.

"That's great. Just what I need. Some creature after me."

But they will not pursue you anymore. True, they are coming for you even now, but all that will change once you destroy them.

"Me? Destroy thousands of monsters?"

They aren't monsters, Mila. They are merely experiments gone wrong.

"Yeah. Like I said. Monsters. Can you at least tell me why it's me who has to do this? I'm no one special."

Maybe it will be best to start at the beginning. Take a seat. This may take a while. Mila sat down on the cold floor.

The Llachar, as I said before, were a race of people who lived long before most humans. They were very advanced. Some texts refer to them as the "First People", others as the "Arcanes", and so on and so forth. They made many advancements, but one of their greatest was a being they created called an Amoveon. Amoveons were made of mercury, a metal that has many properties as yet unknown to your generation.

"We know about mercury!" Mila said angrily. "We use it! In...um, thermometers! Yeah."

I said, many properties as yet unknown to your generation. Do you really think that the only purpose of mercury is to measure temperature? The voice laughed. There are many things in this world that you do not know about that the Llachar did. And there are even more things that no one in this world or out knows. Some things are meant to be hidden.

"Okay, can we skip the Yoda stuff and get to the point?"

Certainly. Where was I? Ah, the Amoveons. The Amoveons were made of mercury, a metal that has many properties, et cetera, et cetera. One of the uses of mercury was shape-changing. In this way, the Amoveons were able to change into any shape they wanted, provided that they didn't spread their molecules too thin. They were shape-shifters, changelings, whatever you call them these days. The Llachar originally created them to be used to infiltrate their enemies' bases, disguised as members of their army, sometimes even high-ranking soldiers, if the Llachar were able to take them out.

"So, wait. The Amo-whatevers can take any shape? Anything at all?"

Well, they have to see the subject first, but yes. They can also piece together a new form from parts of previous people that they have seen before.

"So why is that so bad?"

Because instead of staying limited to infiltrating enemy bases, they impersonated the Llachar themselves. They wanted to know all of the information the Llachar had, so they could use it to further their goal.

"Which was...?"

To become what the Llachar were: the ruling influence in the universe. They wanted domination. They were not satisfied with just being foot soldiers. They wanted to be royalty. They believed the Llachar unworthy of rule because of their mistakes.

"Okay, Mr. Mysterious Voice, this is starting to sound decidedly Star Wars-y."

That is beside the point. The Amoveons thought that their race was incapable of error, because they were not human.

"Just like HAL in that movie."

What movie?

"Never mind. What did the Amaveans-I mean Emovans-What did they do to the Llachar?"

They killed them from the inside out. Slowly, one by one, Llachar fell and were replaced by Amoveons. By the time the remaining Llachar realized what was happening, it was too late. So they enacted once last safety measure. They sent a crew of about a thousand Llachar to this galaxy. These Llachar spread throughout the Milky Way, establishing settlements on different planets in different solar systems. They grew in numbers. But they did not have the knowledge of their forebears. They became primitive again. They lost the wisdom of their elders. And so the human race was formed.

"You're telling me that the people who came before humans were the Llachar?"

That's exactly what I'm telling you. But there were a few who remembered the knowledge of their ancestors. They retreated to a corner of the Milky Way and went "undercover." They are still there, as far as I know.

"What happened to the rest of them?"

I do not know. I assume they were wiped out. There have been no messages from them. And the Amoveons have gotten what they wanted. They rule many galaxies. But this one is lucky. Or was, until now. When you touched that probe, you activated it.

"But Jakk touched it with his bare hands earlier than when I did. Shouldn't it have come online then?"

You are different. You are directly descended from the royal family of the Llachar, so you have more of their abilities than other humans. And that is why the Amoveons have targeted you. Their work may have already begun. Let me ask, do you have any family?

"No," Mila said, instantly growing protective. "My parents both died in a rover accident when I was really little."

That was no accident, Mila. They were murdered by the Amoveons in an attempt to kill all the direct descendants of the Llachar. As for you, they did not discover who you are until you touched their probe and unknowingly sent a message to them. They are coming even now, Mila. They are coming for you and the rest of humanity.

"So, an evil alien race murdered my parents, along with every other Llachan they could find, to prevent them from rising again? And I'm the one who is supposed to stop it all?"

In a nutshell, yes.

"Great. Just call me Luke Skywalker."

Bird Poems By Danielle

Bird In The Tree

By Danielle

Bird in the tree,

why are you sitting there,

staring at me?

Don't you have anything better to do

then to mock me?

Don't look at me with your head cocked!

I'm tired of your song,

it's too all over the place,

and it's too long!

You think your sooo great,

but you're too stupid to ignore a hunter's

bait!

Spread Your Wings

By Danielle

Spread your wings and fly little bird,

don't be ubsurd,

You need to be courageous,

don't be afraid,

You aren't a skin-thin book page,

You don't float to the ground,

You make beatiful sounds,

You go tweet, tweeet, tweet,

with your little beak!

You can't stay in your nest,

You can go out where there are worm fests!

You can catch your own lunch,

crunch, crunch, crunch,

Did I mention there was a branch there,

oh, sorry, that was my falt!

Watch out for the black top!

Still Soaring,

Danielle

A Note On Commenting

Hello! An annoyance that has come to my attention is the number of spam comments that keep pouring into my inbox from this blog. They're like 'Do you want to watch *movie title*? It's not released yet but you can watch it online....' and so on and so forth. It's quite annoying and I have no problem with this on Treble Clef, and I don't want to turn anonymous commenting off just yet. So, I've turned on word verification....yes I despise it too, but I really hope it will stop these spammers. If it doesn't, I'll turn it off and block anonymous comments. Thanks for understanding!

Fireflies (2:5)

I took more than a few steps into the forest. But it's not important, because I'm about to catch a firefly. I reach out my hands and try to grasp the light in my hands, but it blinks and flits away from me.

I huff and chase after another one, jumping over an old log to do it. That bug also flickers out of my reach. I look up at the dark sky through the trees' shadows. The sky above is alight with the glimmering and winking lights. Maybe if I can get up higher...

I grasp for the branches of a low hanging tree and hoist myself up onto the wood. I'm a pretty good tree climber: I've had a lot of practice with different trees. The ones in my grandma's yard, the magnolias near my house, a few at my school. This tree is different, though. It's branches are rougher and there's more of them, and the needles are thin and pointy. If I remember right, this tree is called a pine tree, and it's an evergreen, which means it has needles the whole year round, and it has pinecones.

I stretch up for the next branch and pull myself up, panting. I'm wearing a skirt, which makes it annoying to climb with, and it keeps getting tangled in the branches and there's sticky stuff all over it, which I think is sap. My hair keeps getting in my face, too. I don't like to wear it back because it feels too weird. My hair likes to be free. But now it's blowing all over my face, because the wind is picking up. And it's getting colder.

I wish I had brought my sweater out here with me. I'll just catch a firefly and go and show it to Dad. I'll say, Look Daddy, I caught it all by myself, and he'll smile and give me a hug. And then we'll sit and drink hot chocolate until I fall asleep at the kitchen table.

I'm warmed by this thought, and I reach for another branch. I pull myself up again, and then I look down. I'm far up the tree, but I'm not scared of heights. I'm not scared of anything. I sit down on the branch and look around. The fireflies are are glowing around me. I sit for a minute, drinking in the lights.

One of the bugs drifts near my tree. I stretch my arm out, but I can't quite reach it. I lean forward to grab it.My hand brushes the little insect, and then I'm falling, falling, falling, my body leaving the branch and hurtling through the air down, down, down. The fireflies are around me, blinking like the lights on a police car.

I start to scream, but I'm cut off by the ground caressing my face abruptly.

And then I don't see anything anymore.

Really, really Sorry

I am really sorry that I haven't posted, at all. To tell you the truth I just figured out how to shedule a post and I remembered that that was one of the requirments. So here's a poem.
Heaven On Earth

By Danielle

Is that an angel I hear,

or is there something wrong with my ear?

Is god coming for me,

in this heavenly place?

To leave only an empty space?

Will I go on to the afterlife in the presence of church,

Because its so holy?

Or is it just that Jesus

lurches in churches?

Helping and guiding,

people,

to never sin,

not to lie to their own kin?

Sorry that it's so, church-ful, I hope that's okay!

~Danielle

LuCA {Chapter Eleven}

LuCA {Chapter Eleven}

(c) Akire Zyll Flickerclaw

The way down into the mouth of the tomb was eriely silent. Along the walls, Mila could see paintings and etchings carved in the stone. They were fleeting images, but Mila felt like she recognized them from something long ago. Her boots clunked against the stone steps as she and Hawking descended into the dark. They had brought flashlights with them, and every now and then Hawking would stop to examine something.

"Amazing," he muttered. "Hawking," Mila said.

"What? Did you find something?"

"Yeah. An impassable door." Mila's flashlight shone on a door, carved again with symbols that matched the ones on the coverstone. She rapped on it with her free hand. Nothing happened. "What now?" she asked.

Hawking contemplated the situation for a second. "Well, I suppose if worst comes to worst we can ride back into Cairo and purchase some explosives. I know a dealer in town, a very interesting man, who owns a shop that carries what we might be looking for..." Unaware that Mila was not listening anymore, Hawking rambled on.

Mila was feeling very strange as she looked at the door. A cold was spreading in her chest, a cold that seeped through her whole body and enveloped her thoughts in a white fog. She raised her hand. She was seeing everything through a veil of mist. She pressed her hand against the stone. Hawking stopped talking. The stone lit up with the same blue luminescence as the coverstone had, and slid up into the wall above.

Mila moved forward into the blackness. The mist had receded from her vision, and she was now looking around at the inside of the tomb. She shone her flashlight at the walls. All around were the symbols. There lay five sarcophagi on the ground, their feet in a circle. Mila stepped over to one of them. Behind her, Hawking was examining the walls.

Mila looked down on one of the coffins. It was made of gold, and carved again with the strange symbols. Blue, white, and red stones were inlaid along it. The face on the cover was high boned and looked royal. Mila was suddenly reminded of the Elite, and she made a face. She turned away.

"Look over here," Hawking said. He pointed to a section of the wall. The carvings suggested a door. Mila walked over and looked at it. She put her hand up to it. Nothing. She tried tapping it. Rubbing it. Tracing the symbols. Pushing, pulling, even commanding it to open with her mind. Yelling at it. Nothing.

Frustrated, Mila put her back against the wall. "I guess we should-" Hawking started.

And then Mila fell through the open air backwards into a room.

She hit her head hard coming down and everything faded slowly away.

[Ugh, this was so short! I'll do better next time...]

Over The Edge ~ Discussion

Over The Edge is a story of overcoming adversity, heroes rising, and never giving up.

We start at the beginning with Summer. Summer the exuberant, sunshine-faced girl starting her week at camp.

She's also the girl who's been plagued with regular insomnia since school let out.

Away from home when she goes over the edge with 'the big one' in the middle of the night, this is a time to remember in so many lives.

So now that this epic series is over, what are your thoughts? Please discuss.

Fireflies (1:5)

The fireflies are out tonight, my dad says. Come and look at them, Lyra.

What's a firefly? I say, because I don't know what a firefly is, because I'm only going into the first grade and even though I know a lot of things one thing I don't know is what a firefly is.

It's an insect, my dad says.

And I nod because I know what an insect is, because I was taught it in my preschool even though most children aren't. Insects are bees and ants and mosquitoes and spiders, even though my teacher says that a spider is something that begins with ara, though I can't see the difference but I trust my teacher because she knows most things. But she won't be my teacher this coming year because I'll be in the first grade and she only teaches preschool and kindergarten. And it makes me kinda sad.

Look out the window, my dad says. So I get up and come over to the kitchen window, which looks out the back. And I see little tiny green lights flicking on off on off on off in the dark. I smile, and then laugh, cause they look so pretty, but then I have a thought and go serious. Are they really on fire?

No, he says, and laughs.

Oh. I thought they might burn up if they glow too long.

No, honey.

Then how come they glow?

I don't know. I think it's something to do with the chemicals in their body.

I see. Even though I don't see. Not the chemicals or the point.

Do you want to go out and catch some? I look up at him. Really?

Yes, really, he laughs. But first I have to check on your mother.

My mother is a short woman, with big, curly dark red black hair and green eyes. She cries a lot and I don't know why. And sometimes, when my parents are having a fight and I'm scared, I catch a glimpse of her going upstairs and she sparkles. But maybe it's my tears.

I go outside the back screen door without my dad and he goes upstairs to check on her. I sit down in the grass and look down the hill and watch the fireflies.

Our house is next to a large wood that's down the field that my dad says I should never ever go in because it's easy to get lost in there. There's a magnolia tree on the left side of our yard, and one down at the bottom of the hill, and both of them have just started to lose their blossoms.

I wait a long long time for my dad, but I get bored. I look up and around at all the fireflies. Dad won't mind if I try to catch just a few, will he? I reach for one, but it flies away and blinks out before I can reach it. I get up and chase after it. I run after one, and then another, tripping and tumbling and laughing the whole way. Until I finally fall down in the soft grass and laugh so hard that I can't catch my breath.

When I start breathing again, I look up into the branches of the magnolia. A petal lands on my face, and I blow it off with a puff of air. I sit up and realize that the magnolia tree is not the one that I expected. It's at the edge of the dark woods. I look into the tangle of dark branches and see all the glowing little lights twinkling.

I get up and walk towards the lights. At the edge of the woods I stop. I'll only go a few steps into the forest. I just want to catch a firefly and then I'll come back. I look back towards the house. Only one light is left on: the one in my parent's bedroom. Dad's probably consoling my mother. I turn and start into the forest.

Moving Into Middle School (Chapter One)

I remember when I was seven and I wanted to skip 3 grades so I could go to middle school and get an email. Well, NEWS FLASH! Middle school isn't how you think it will be. Sure, you get an email, maybe a cell phone, but there's a LOT of homework. It's even worse when you miss the first two weeks of school because of a plane crash (don't worry, it landed in the ocean, with those floaty thingys. Only a few stupid people died because they didn't buckle, even though we were going down and they told us to), go there for a month, then get transported from Illinois to Hawaii, and make an enemy on the first day at the new school only because a cute boy winks at you!

You guessed it! That's what happened to me! And it was crazy! Hmmm...let's start with us moving...

"Autumn! Time to go!" Wanda called to her 11 year old daughter.

"I'm coming!!!" Autumn took one last look at her bedroom, and closed the door behind her. She stepped down the stairs, looking at the walls of the staircase, where just days before were covered with billions of pictures of her family, all from Illinois. She walked out into the bright sunshine, the crisp fall sun beating on her, yet not making her any warmer. She shivered.

"Autumn!" Her best friend, Jessie (yes, a boy), called to her.

"Hi!" She cried, running to him and hugging him tightly. "I'm going to miss you so much." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Me too." Jessie whispered into her ear, his voice choked. Autumn sniffled and wiped her eyes dry. "Remember, Skype me when you get there." Jessie reminded her.

"Don't worry." Autumn let out a watery laugh. She wiped her tears once more, and waved good-bye as she stepped into the car. She kept on waving, until they turned the corner, and Jessie was gone. She searched through her bag of things she would need on the journey. Finally, she pulled out her journal, and scribbled,

October 5th, 2010

Hello,

SKYPE JESSIE WHEN IN HAWAII!!!!!!!!!!!

There! That's all I wanted to say.

Ciao!

When Autumn finished, she put the journal away and took out a book titled, "The Looking Glass Wars." She began to read it.

At the airport Autumn put her book away and went in. The family went through the procedure, including where they put their carry-ons through a machine and went through a metal detector. Finally, they got on the plane. It was three seats on each side, but there are four of us, me, mom, dad, and Silvia. Silvia's only six, so she sat with mom and dad, while I sat on the other side on the window seat.

A man and woman sat next to me. The flight was boring. We got off in Idaho and went directly onto another plane. Again, I had to sit alone on a window seat. It was crazy. I hoped I wasn't going to sit next to another fat guy! But, instead I sat next to a boy, a girl next to him.

"Hi." The boy said as soon as the plane took off. "I'm Penn."

"I'm Autumn." Autumn smiled to the boy.

"This is Dalia." Penn said, gesturing to the girl sitting next to him. The girl looked up from her book to wave at Autumn. "We're twins. Where you going?"

"Hawaii." Autumn said calmly.

"Really? Us too! We're going to Kauai (ka-wai)."

"Me too! I'm from Illinois. You?"

"Idaho." Dalia spoke for the first time.

"Cool..." Autumn tried to think of something to say. "That's my mom, dad, and sister." She gestured to her family.

"Wow. My family's bigger. Much bigger!" Dalia giggled.

"Yeah!" Penn agreed. "Our parents, 16 year old Ella, 15 year old John, 13 year old Jackie and Jason, 11 year old us," (they laughed at that) "9 year old Samuel, six year old William, and 2 year old Jessica."

"Wow." Autumn replied.

"I know!" Penn said, and they went into a conversation about families and Hawaii.

LuCA {Chapter Ten}

LuCA {Chapter Ten}

(c) Akire Zyll Flickerclaw

Mila woke in the middle of the night. She didn't know why, or how, but she slipped out of her tent and went to stand in front of the coverstone. The full moon illuminated the girl, dressed in long, flowing robes that were turned a blinding white by the moon's rays. Mila's blonde hair blew behind her, and her blue eyes were open, staring at the slab.

Hawking's tent flap stirred, and he emerged. "Mila?" She didn't turn or acknowledge his presence. She held her hand out above the slab. "Mila, what are you doing?" He touched her shoulder, and pulled his hand back sharply. A shock had zapped him as soon as he touched Mila.

Mila lowered her hand. Hawking saw that the engraving of the handprint was just below her hand. She placed her hand on the indention. Her eyes lit up, turning the irises white. Hawking backed away. As he watched, the handprint on the coverstone began to glow with the same light. The runes around Mila's hand glowed as well, and this spread throughout the entire slab, like blood through a person's veins. She took her hand away.

Hawking gasped. The heavy, large coverstone rose a few feet into the air, than slid away from her. Underneath it, dark, dusty steps led down into the interior of the Egyptian desert. "Well, that solves our problem," Hawking muttered. Mila said nothing. "Mila? Mila?" There was no reply. The light slowly faded out of her eyes. Mila jerked and twitched, and seemed to wake up. "What the heck was that?" she asked. "How did the coverstone open? What happened? Why am I out here?"

Hawking explained about the light on her eyes and the coverstone hovering and sliding away. "That sounds like what happened back on LuCA..." Mila said, half to herself. "What?" Hawking asked. Mila peered down the steps. "Back on LuCA, my friend Jakk and I found a ULO. It was a black slab, about the size of a computer. We brought it back to the lab, and when I touched it with my bare hands, it did sort of the same thing. It opened up, but there was nothing inside. And then it just--disappeared." Mila decided not to tell Hawking about the voice. She had learned her lesson the first time with Jakk.

Hawking was listening very intently. "Did this box have anything inside it?"

"No," Mila lied. "It was empty." Except for a creepy voice telling me that I was going to die.

"And was your friend with you when the box opened?"

"No, but I told him about it." The disappointment in Mila's voice was obvious.

"He didn't believe you, did he?"

"Nope." Mila shrugged her shoulders. "So, who wants to go down the creepy stairs first?"

Fireflies Sneak Peek

Hello everyone! One thing you should know about me is that when I get obsessed with a new show, I must go and make some spin on it. This particular story, titled Fireflies, is based on Fringe (a very confusing show about the science of unexplainable things, including alternate universes and very creepy Matrix-like people who can catch bullets). I won't go too into it, but here's the basic information that relates to this story:

Walter, a scientist, had a son named Peter that died of a rare disease. He found out how to cure Peter only after he had died. Walter built a contraption of some sort to go to the other universe so he could cure the Peter on that side. The only problem was, he had to take the other Peter back to our side to do it. He took the other Peter from his other self, but promised that he would bring him back. However, the machine was destroyed and he found no way to bring Peter back.

When Walter and Peter came back from the other side, the ice underneath them cracked and they began to drown. A man wearing a dark suit and fedora jumped in and saved them. This man, called the Observer (he is one of the aforementioned Matrix-bullet-catching-creepy-dudes) was not supposed to get involved, and let Peter and Walter drown.

Later, in the summer, Peter caught a firefly, which prevented a little girl many miles away from catching one. She walked deep into the woods in hope of catching a firefly, which caused her father to go out looking for her the next morning, and he crashed into a pedestrian, killing him. This person was the son of one of Walter's favorite musicians, and his band broke up.

Many years later, when Peter was grown up and working with his father, they investigate a case where the musician has seen his dead son, along with a mysterious guy in a fedora and dark suit. Walter and Peter realize that this is the Observer, and that the musician's son died because of the Observer saving them from the water.

There's a lot more to the show and the episode, but this 5-part story will focus on the little girl who did not catch a firefly and wandered off into the woods because of it. Enjoy!

Over The Edge ~ Part 4 {Summer} + Some Notes

The Twenty-Second, And Final, Installment Of:

Over The Edge

Summer

Slowly I feel my strength flooding back into me as the minutes pass and I grow stronger again. This medicine coursing through my veins now makes me shake and tremble, but I don't care. The worst is over.

Finally, around six the doctors come to release me. I can go back to camp. I am free again. Bryan drives the pickup back down the still quiet roads, down the bumpy dirt path down to camp. Yesterday, I was driven down this road ready for a week filled with fun and laughter. Can it be less than twenty-four hours ago? It feels like a lifetime.

On shaking legs I walk down the boardwalk, into the silent camp. Phil sees me from the porch or cabin five and exclaims 'Summer! You're OK!!!' with delight. I just smile and open the door to cabin six and quietly slip in while Beth and Bryan go to talk with Phil.

I tiptoe into the main room and find my cabinmates dozing, sitting up on Nicole's bunk. Emily sleeps in her rocking chair, but her eyes flutter open as I step on a squeaky board. “Summer?” She mumbles groggily. “SUMMER!” She jumps out of the chair to hug me, but her cry has made the other campers stir, and they pull me in close, and I remember why I didn't give up.

This is why I kept holding on, never going completely over the edge. Life is beautiful.

***Some Notes***

This story is based on real events.

Names have been changed to protect the people's identities.

For clarification: Summer has asthma, and one of her problems is that she's sort of like a tank filling up, up, up until something little pushes her over the edge into a full-blown attack. In this case, it was a different pillow, as she had forgotten her own.

Insomnia- especially when it comes in out of the blue, first sporadic then extremely frequent, coupled by chronic nausea, are signs of a soon coming very bad asthma attack. This is a little known fact, that Summer and her family did not find out until after the episode. 

LuCA {Chapter Nine}

LuCA {Chapter Nine}

(c) Akire Zyll Flickerclaw

The sand blew into Mila's eyes. She shielded her hand against the blinding sun and surveyed the scene in front of her. The remnants of a few tents, now just scraps of cloth and broken poles, stood next to a slab of rock lying on it's side. The rock was just a few feet high, but the side facing Mila was roughly 5 feet long. She walked around the great object.

It was a sandy yellow-orange, and was inscribed with runes and symbols all over it's surface. Mila recognized a handprint, a cat, a river, and something that looked like it could be either the sun or the moon. The slab itself was approximately 2 feet high, 5 feet wide, and 15 feet long. Mila recognized the slab from Thellas' journal. He had drawn the slab with extreme detail, and despite the weathering of the years, the object had remained relatively untouched.

Mila stepped back from the object. It had a quality to it that was enchanting and haunting, and she shook her head to get rid of it. What had Thellas said? She opened her messenger bag. She had dressed in the protective clothes of a camel rider: long, light colored robes and sturdy shoes. She had even gone so far as to pick up a headdress to shield her face from the sand and the sun, though it wasn't doing such a good job.

Mila pulled out her tablet, carried all the way from LuCA. It's sleek, professional surface looked odd against the sand and grit of Egypt. She pulled up Thellas' journal and found the section on the slab.

This object appears to be the coverstone for the tomb. We will work on removing it tomorrow. But for now, I will sleep.

There was nothing else. Thellas' journal hadn't been recovered in it's entirety. The next page that remained detailed the burial chamber. There was nothing about how Thellas had removed the coverstone.

Mila tucked her tablet back into her bag and crossed to her camel, an ornery male named Gamelru. The camel tossed his head and snorted. Mila ducked to avoid the wave of snot that passed overhead. "Yeah, yeah," she said. "We get it. You need food. But aren't you supposed to live off your own fat, or something?"

Gamelru tossed his head again in response. "Ok, ok," Mila said. "Just don't spray snot all over me, okay?" She patted Gamelru's neck and reached for her pack.

☯☯☯☯

Mila placed her hands on her hips and looked at her tent. "Clearly, I need practice," she said to Gamelru. He snorted in reply. The tent was lopsided, but it would have to do. It was made of a few poles, with a brown cloth stretched over all of it. Mila had placed it next to the ruins of the other tents. It had freaked her out to be so close to them, but the location had the best view of both the coverstone and the direction from which she had come.

Mila reached for Gamelru's reins. He flicked away, and she lunged after him. "Come back here, you filthy--" she tripped and landed facedown in the sand. The camel whinnied, the sound reminding Mila of laughter. She rolled over.

"It's better when you approach them from head on," a voice said from no where. A hand clasped Mila's and pulled her up. She cleared the sand from her eyes and gasped in delight. "Hawking?"

Hawking bowed slightly. He was dressed similarly to her, and he had even opted for a turban. He was holding the reins of Gamelru, who looked slightly ashamed, along with a dark chestnut horse. "Mila Arwyr. We meet again."

"But--how? Why? What about your business?"

"They postponed the meeting until September. Some of the interns got a little excited about their findings and didn't cite them right, so they'll need a few months to get everything in order. I decided to come and see you."

"But how did you get here so fast?"

Hawking smiled. "Camels may be more efficient, but horses are faster." He patted his horse's neck. "Now, let's fix your tent."

Over The Edge ~ Part 4 {Beth}

The Twenty-First Installment Of:

Over The Edge

Beth

Slowly but surely, Summer is regaining her strength. All the medicine they've pumped into her body, along with the energy she's burned is making her tremble and shake, but the worst has passed. Summer's made contact with her parents, doctors bring her more medicine to calm her, and food so she can refuel. Bryan and I can only sit in relief, still stunned from the night's events. Summer is silent for the most part, trying to get her strength back, attempting to at least get over some of the shock.

Tonight, heroes have risen. All of cabin six, dealing with the stress, and Kyleigh knowing enough to awaken Summer. Emily and her dedication throughout, Phil, Bryan, all the counselors. But, most of all, Summer. The girl who's fought through the most tonight. The one who's overcome the most adversity. The person who refused to give up and decided to keep fighting.

Summer won her battle, she's an example to us all to not give up, even when it is so easy to do so.