Broken Lens - A Short Story

Anna snapped the lens into place, checking the battery light for the fourth time. She slipped the red strap of her Nikon D3X over her head and left shoulder, allowing the weight to sink against her chest. Then she pulled her phone out of her jeans to check it. A text popped in blue across the smooth surface. She slid it open and punched the screen.

Any chance I get an answer today? The opening in our company is still available if you want it?

Anna stared at the small square gray bubble. You won’t give up will you, mom? The tiniest frown twisted up her lips as she slammed the door shut to her truck and trudged out onto the sand, slipping the thin phone back into her butt pocket. Her shoulder length, tangled blonde hair poked out from under a navy blue Texas Rangers cap, offsetting vibrant green eyes and a very determined small chin. She tugged the zipper of her gray Columbia closer to her chin, covering a small pale scar on her collar bone.

Santa Monica Beach was empty as it was still early in the day. It was February after all, with rain in the forecast. The morning mists still hung in the air, hovering over the lapping tides. Anna’s boots sank into the sand, creating a trail of indentions behind her. She knelt behind a large wooden row boat leaning up against one of the white lifeguard stands. The tide was up, bubbling against the sand, chasing the seagulls from some dead jellyfish; the ocean farther out was white capping, foretelling a coming storm.  Two figures, a young man and a girl, were standing off in the distance near the Santa Monica pier. 

Anna pulled the strap off her shoulder so it dangled from her neck and powered on her camera. She pointed the lens at them and adjusted the focus, zooming in until both their faces filled her view. After an entire week of tailing Heather Grayson, Anna knew everything: the styles she liked, how she liked her lattes with skim milk, what eyeliners she wore to school and what she wore at home, where she liked to shop and who styled her hair ; although none of this mattered.

Anna was patient, though, and today her patience was being rewarded. Only yesterday, she had heard Heather setting up a meeting with someone here at the beach. Anna made an educated guess that this was also the person whose calls Heather kept hidden from her mother and always took out by the boat house on her family’s estate in Palos Verdes. Richard would be pleased with her. He had been waiting for two weeks for her to find him new evidence. Anna never knew the full extent of what he did with the photographs, but she really didn’t care. This was her fifth assignment for him, which helped pay for her rent and gave her the independence she needed from her mother.

Come on, mystery man; turn around. Anna stared patiently at the back of his brown curly head. He wore loose jeans and a light brown jacket like he had just stepped out of the house for stroll down the street. From what she could tell he was quite a bit older than Heather, probably just out of college. Heather was only a junior at Palos Verdes High.

Heather had just walked up to him, a huge frown on her Barbie shaped face. He reached out for her as if for an embrace, but Heather stepped back, speaking forcefully at him, frustration written in her squinted baby blues. Anna watched the man’s broad shoulders slowly sag as Heather circled him, still lecturing, moving her small manicured hands in animated gestures. He turned Anna’s direction in the midst of this one-sided dialogue and she caught a shot of his entire face. In the same moment she gasped and nearly dropped her camera. It couldn’t be! She pressed her eye to the lens, her gaze sweeping every inch of his strikingly familiar face. Looking closer showed several inconsistencies, however; the shape of the nose was just off, the tilt of the chin and length of the forehead.

It wasn’t him, but nevertheless Anna’s heart rate quickened and a cold sweat broke on her skin. She was fighting hard to forget. As Heather continued on her little rant or tantrum or whatever the girl was doing, Anna kept her camera fixed on the young man’s worried eyes. He never took them away from Heather, but watched her with deep concern. He obviously cared for her. Anna cursed quietly and set the camera down, watching them for a few minutes from a safer distance. A thousand images were spinning through her mind.

She cursed again, this time a little louder.

**

He promised me once that one day it would all end, our crazy lives, our crazy parents, our crazy town. He said we would leave it all behind, become different people. It seemed to be an impossible promise, one we both knew he couldn’t keep.  We were sitting on the roof that evening, just outside my bedroom window, trying to ward off the inevitable sleep and my dreadful dreams.

The trees were nearly bare of their leaves and autumn’s chill sank down from the sky. Luke’s calloused hand, which was warmly wrapped around mine, could not erase the images that seemed permanently burned on my brain, but he could change the way I felt. His eyes were fixed on the tangled branches of the old pecan tree that draped across the gray slated roof, face anxious. He knew what I was thinking; about the Widow Thompson and the pills she had overdosed on yesterday. I had not been able to stop her. It was the first time I had failed. I saw her gray lifeless eyes, her wrinkled clenched fist and the broken pieces of the empty wine glass. I could feel the heaviness leaving me, even as the scene flashed bright in my memory. I had not stopped my depressing thoughts; it was him, pulling them from my emotions. I squeezed his hand, wanting to tell him to stop. He pulled his eyes away from the trees in response. I could see it was weighing on him. His eyes looked tired. I knew that no matter how he felt would never stop. He didn’t know how to stop. It was a part of who he was.

“She was old and lonely, Anna. You can’t save everyone,” Luke whispered, leaning his forehead against my cheek, I could feel his warm breath on my ear.

“I’m only sixteen, Luke. I shouldn’t have to do this.”

“You don’t.”

“Then why the dreams?” I let go of his hand. “Why do I have to see?”

He grabbed my hand before I could pull it out of reach, uncurling my tightly knotted fingers and rubbing them gently between his own,” I don’t know. I don’t understand it either. I wish I could tell you why. I know it can’t just be a curse, it hasn’t been all bad.”

I was not able to answer. I buried my head in his shoulder, allowing the musky smell of his cologne and slightly sweaty t-shirt to numb my senses. His words were soothing. It was just his way, thought it wasn’t easy for either of us. He didn’t always know how to handle my feelings, or anyone else’s for that matter. I didn’t know what to do with my own dark, telling dreams.

“Hey…” Luke lifted my chin, forcing me to make contact with his eyes. “I love you.”

I knew he meant it, but somehow the words fell to the ground. Empty.

**

Anna turned up the heat and peered through her windshield into the small café shop where Heather and her companion sat perched over their frothy lattes. Santa Monica was now sitting under a downpour, the palm trees struggling against the wind. Anna’s camera sat useless in her lap. She had managed to snap one last shot before the torrent fell. Her pocket vibrated for the second time that day and after minute she realized it was a phone call and started digging for it. She glanced at the screen. Dr. Susan Faulkner.

Anna sighed heavily and let it ring twice more before answering.

“I’m working.”

“Then why did you answer?”

“What do you want, Susan?” Anna leaned back in her seat, drumming her uneven nails along the steering wheel.

“I was just calling to check…”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Anna stiffly offered.

“Ok. Fine. How’s school?”

“I’m passing.”

“Good,” there was a long pause. “I wanted to ask, well, I wanted to know how things are going?”

Anna didn’t have to guess to know what she meant, but she didn’t answer right away.

“Well, I’m sleeping and eating and walking to class and…”

“Anna…” she interrupted.

“Ok! It’s working, alright, at least, there haven’t been any more nightmares. The same as last time you called. Why do you keep calling and asking?”

“You were the one who asked me for the pills, Anna. It’s my job to care.”

“Look, I know my mom calls you.”

“Is it that hard to let her into your life, to open yourself up to her even a little? She is still your mother, Anna.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You are way too cynical for someone your age,” Anna could hear her sigh.

“I didn’t choose any of this.”

“But you left Texas to find healing, right?”

Anna stared glumly at the rain beating against the glass. She could still see the two forms sitting in the café.

“Right?”

“Right,” she managed, ignoring the first question. “Listen, Susan. I really am at work. I need to go.”

“Where are you working?”

“I’ve recently picked up some freelance photography jobs here and there,” Anna replied, hoping that she didn’t ask anything else.

“Sounds normal.”

“That’s what I am. Normal…” Anna’s voice trailed off. “Anything else?”

“I guess I’ll leave you alone. Sometime I don’t know why I even try.”

 “I appreciate the call, Susan.” She really didn’t care but Anna just wanted to hang up now.

“Yeah. Remember you can actually call me if you want.”

Anna laughed, skeptically. “Bye.”

“Bye, Anna.”

She hung up and closed her eyes. The rain started to come down harder.

**

The closet was completely dark, but I could still hear the storm outside. There was another flash of lightning and a rumble in the distance. I buried my head between my knees, scrunching farther back in the narrow space until my back was pressed against the rough cedar paneling. I knew my mother was still standing there, saying my name over and over again, begging me to come out. I vaguely remember her talking to someone on her cell.

I was still screaming, but the noise was muffled against my flannel pajamas. I had been shaking in shock and it had nothing to do with the tempest outside. I’m not sure how long I had been sitting there, but eventually I heard a knock. Before I heard his voice, I felt his presence settle in around my emotions. The fear lessened immediately.

            

            "Anna?”

            I choked down a sob.

            

            The door opened and a boy my own age popped his curly head inside, a soft frown of concern on his face. He knelt down on one knee so he was eye level with me. He said nothing at first, just stared at me, with a half curious, half serious expression in his blue eyes.

            

            Normally I would have been embarrassed. He was cute and I was puffy-faced and wet with swollen eyes. I had no idea how he got here. How did he get past my mom? I should have been worried, but I wasn’t. All I could do was stare blankly at him for several long seconds as a smooth, calm warmth spread over my head and down my shoulders. I was almost positive it was coming from his eyes. Why did I suddenly feel like everything was right in the world? The fear vanished.

            

           “What did you do?” was the first thing that came out of my twelve-year-old mouth.

          

            He held one finger to his lips. “Sshh, it’s a secret.”

          

            I wanted to panic. What if this was just another nightmare? What if the boy was only a ghost of some dead child on the other side of town? What if…?

The boy shook his head slowly and I could feel that somehow he understood though he didn’t speak a word.

          

            “Who are you?”

            

             He grinned, shaking his long curly bangs from his eyes. “I’m Luke.”

**

After another half hour of waiting, the rain stopped. Anna lifted her camera, to get a fuller view of the two inside the café. Their faces were bent closer together now, holding hands across the small yellow table. Anna could see that Heather was asking the young man several questions. He was only nodding or shaking his head in response to each. The snap of the camera lens echoed in her car.

Then Anna watched as the both rose and slipped into each other’s arms. Anna’s finger thumped on the camera buttons. The young man gave the girl a lengthy intimate kiss. Anna felt her gut contort. She lowered her camera. This was it. The evidence Richard needed.

Anna waited a few minutes more until he left the café, slipped into his gray SUV and drove east out of Santa Monica. The camera clicked away, capturing his license plate. Five minutes later a taxi pulled up at the curb and Heather slipped inside. The rain had slowed to a quiet drizzle. Anna waited until the cab was nearly a block away before pulling her own vehicle from the curb. It was time to call it a day. She needed to send these pictures off to Richard before tonight. Anna turned north on Lincoln and headed home. Images of Luke still would not leave her mind. Normally she could distract herself, but today they wouldn’t leave. She hadn’t expected to react so emotionally on the beach earlier.

            

             In the parking lot below her apartment Anna checked her phone again. No new messages. She opened her last one from her mom and stared at it, finger pausing over the key pad. She didn’t want to work for her mom; working for her mom meant dreaming again. Anna was through with dreams? She was in college now; her mom needed to let it go. Anna shouldered her camera gear, pocketed the phone and stepped out of her car.

            

              Susan would tell her she was scared; scared of the confrontation of telling her mom the truth. And the truth is it was over. I’m done.

Just as she reached the door her phone vibrated again.  It was her mom.

            

            Please text me back.

            

            Anna gripped the phone as she walked up the stairs to her front door. The words of the text seem to swirl across the phone’s surface. She could see the young man’s familiar eyes staring at Heather. She remembered another moment two years ago when she had received a similar text. Anna dumped her camera stuff on the faded green couch as soon as she stumbled into her apartment. Without a moment’s hesitation she poured herself a glass of vodka and downed several uncomfortable gulps. She leaned against the kitchen counter staring into the empty space of her bedroom as the alcohol burned in her throat. A gray cat wandered into the kitchen, weaving in between her legs, mewing piteously. Anna ignored him, took another drink of the clear liquor and charged into the bedroom. She let the door to her closet swing open as she began digging under several piles of shoes. She knocked over her surfboard, sand still stuck in the waxed grooves. It bumped against her bed, nearly falling on the cat who disappeared into safety under the bed. It took several more minutes of searching but Anna finally uncovered a small leather journal tucked inside a box under her cowboy boots. She took a swig from her glass and opened the stained pages. Several folded pieces of worn paper fell into her hand and a faded photo. She held the photo up to the midday light flooding in from the bedroom window, sparkling through the glass in her left hand and bouncing off the black and white print in her other.

            

             The journal slid from Anna’s hands as she sank down against the bed, fighting back tears. In the photo Luke’s head was thrown back, mouth wide in mid-laugh. His hair was shaggy and long. He had been growing it out that summer. She bit her lip, pressing one trembling hand against her mouth. She had taken the snapshot more than two years ago only minutes before the disagreement that had sent her running out of his back yard. It had been nearly six months since she had last looked at it.

            

             Why had she not seen it coming?

Anna clutched at the picture, staring so hard her eyes could not focus. She could feel a headache coming on. His eyes seemed so alive. It only added to the agony of how she felt. They’d had arguments before; surely their disagreement that day had not been so bad. It had only been over her frustration with him controlling her emotions, something they fought over a lot. Had he really been that insecure with his ability? She had run through it in her mind a thousand times. Susan would tell her to stop blaming herself, but she couldn’t help it. She would always blame herself. Why had her dreams told her nothing?

Her phone buzzed loudly. Anna deleted the text without reading it and blindly reached up to a bottle of tiny blue pills lying on her nightstand.  No dreams tonight. 

**

I had no nightmares last night. Nothing. No warning, no premonitions. Luke’s last text was still in my inbox.

            

             Please call me back.

I glanced at it briefly before sliding into my truck to head to school. My finger hovered over the delete button before I snapped it shut, turned it off and slid it into the back of my jeans. I flipped on the headlights of my old Chevy. I pulled into the street and headed towards Big Springs High. Somewhere in the distance police sirens were blaring.

I arrived at the high school five minutes early and slid into my desk before half the class room was full. I didn’t feel my phone ring either time it buzzed. Thirty minutes into Coach Henry’s lecture on the Battle of the Bulge, the school’s guidance counselor, Mrs. Barron, walked into the classroom. I didn’t even look up, until Coach Henry said my name. My head popped up and my eyes snapped to attention. I could feel my cheeks flush as Mrs. Barron motioned me to follow her out into the hall. There was a low rumble of voices as I made my way around the other students’ desks and followed the older woman out the door.

Mrs. Barron’s normally firm and severe countenance was pinched and worried. Her gray eyes were red-rimmed.

“There is no easy way to tell you this, Anna,” she whispered. “It’s Luke.”

“What has he done now?” I asked, unable to hide my frustration.

 “There was an accident, Anna, at the lake.”

The words had hung there for several long seconds. I felt my hands instinctively clench at my sides. Her words had tumbled out so forcefully, echoing down the hall.

“What did you say?” I said, feeling like I might need to sit down on the hall floor.

 “Your mom called,” Mrs. Barron said. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Where is he?”

“At the Peterson’s lake house?”

“Is he all right?” I asked her, feeling the heat draining from my face.

Mrs. Barron just shook her head.

 “I’m going there now.” I pulled out my phone with shaky hands. There were two missed called from my mom.

“I don’t think that is such a good idea…” she began.

“No. I have to go.”

“Ok. Then I will drive,” she said quickly. “Get your stuff.”

We were on the road within two minutes heading for the lake. I was trembling for the entire ride. Mrs. Barron was talking nonstop, a stream of guidance counselor nonsense. I didn’t hear a thing she said. I saw the flashing blue and red lights when we were still several houses away. She had barely parked the car in the Peterson’s drive before my feet were on the pavement running towards the lake behind the house and the officers in the black uniforms.

My mother came out of nowhere and grabbed me, swinging my shoulders around to face her.

“Anna, don’t go down there!”

“What happened?” I screamed at her. “Where is he?”

“Anna…stop it,” her dark brown eyes pleaded with me. She grabbed my wrists pulling me towards the Peterson’s house.

I struggled against her. “No, where is he? Luke!”

“Anna, no, you don’t understand…”

“Where is he, Mother?” I repeated, trying to look over her shoulder.

 “Anna, he’s gone.” She began weeping, still holding my wrists tightly.

I stood there shaking.” No…”

“Don’t go down there, Anna. Please. It’s bad.”

“How?” I managed to get out.

She released my hands, looking as shocked as I felt. “Both of his wrists were cut.”

I shoved away from her and rushed towards the ambulance. They were putting his body in a black bag. I was probably screaming hysterically. All I could see was the pale whiteness of his face and limpness of his body. Someone grabbed me from behind, pulling me back. Luke disappeared inside the bag as one of the officers zipped it up.

 All I could think about was that this was my fault. Luke had killed himself and I had never dreamed it. I sank to the ground, buried my head in my arms and wept.

**

Anna lifted her head nearly an hour later as her phone rang. She sluggishly picked it up.  “Mom” the screen read. She threw it on the bed out of reach and stumbled to her feet still holding Luke’s picture. She wished the pills could block her memories instead of only her dreams. Susan seemed think that over time Anna could forget, but nothing could remove the images, least of all the agony of not having a clue about what Luke had been about to do. She could have stopped him. So why didn’t she dream it before it happened? It was the question she would probably go to her grave asking. But it was too late to change it, so why even think about it. None of this mattered. Luke was dead.

Her phone beeped. She glanced down, it was Richard.

Where are my pictures?

She wiped both eyes and slid off the bed still holding the phone and Luke’s photo. She walked into the living room and picked up her camera. She flipped it on and began scrolling through shots of the beach. She held up Luke’s picture when she found the one of Heather’s friend. They weren’t so similar now that she saw them side by side, but the eyes were pretty close. Funny how he had triggered so much emotion.

Anna scrolled quickly ahead until she found the pictures from the café. The couple’s moments of affection were perfectly captured in her moment by moment frames. Suddenly curious, Anna hooked her camera up to her MacBook to open the pictures on the wider screen. Heather and the man’s faces popped up large and clear. Anna felt herself especially drawn towards Heather. The girl’s nonverbal expression of the emotions she was experiencing was evident in the dreamy gaze of her eyes, the soft curve of her lips and the shy hesitation of her smile. Anna wondered if that is what she looked like when she had been with Luke. She felt embarrassed and yet empathetic all at once. Poor Heather, the girl didn’t know what was coming. These pictures could change everything for her.

Anna impulsively selected every photo in the café sequence and hit delete.

**

The dream was less vivid than most, but the facts were no less clear. There were strong male arms grabbing a young girl’s mouth, pinning her arms against her sides and shoving her into a white sedan. She had been standing on a curb in front of a pale blue two-story home, checking the mail. Why her parents would let a seven-year-old check the mail in that part of town was a mystery to me. A single solitary white envelope fluttered to the grass. “Claire Dalton” was scrawled in childish writing across the front. I could hear her frightened screams before the man slammed the car door. There was a screech of tires and a rumble of the engine as he sped off out of the neighborhood. The next thing I saw was the girl lying on a torn and thin mattress in a dirty room. The man’s shadow was in the doorway. I could the feel the child’s terror.

I woke up screaming, like I always did. My mom didn’t even come into the bedroom. It wasn’t as bad as others. Normally I saw more. I was thankful for the lack of details. I slid from the bed. It was almost morning. The air outside my window was light pink. I picked up my phone and dialed Luke. No dial tone.

I threw the phone across the room and rolled over into my pillow weeping.

                                                                                  **

Anna gently closed her laptop. She texted Richard quickly.

Pictures will be coming this evening. I didn’t get much this time. Sorry.

Her mom called as she was typing. She ignored it and sent her message to Richard. Afterwards her phone beeped and she knew her mom had broken down and left her a voicemail. She poured herself another drink before punching the phone on speaker and letting the message play:

“Anna, we need to talk. You’ve avoided me long enough.”

Anna grimaced. Her mom didn’t get it. She never did. Anna just wanted to be normal, to forget who she had been and to never dream again. This had never been her mom’s idea of healing from the tragedy.

Anna deleted the voicemail and turned off the phone. She wondered how long it would take before her mom would give up. 

The Wilderness - Chapter Two

Chapter Two:

It was nearly two days later when Sarah, her brother and the others dared to emerge from their underground refuge. They had huddled the entire time in the darkness, listening to the savage shrieks of their enemies and the terrified screams of the Shataiki’s innocent victims. Numb shock had encompassed everyone into an almost unconscious state of mental awareness. No one understood what was going on.

The sounds of massacre continued on for several hours at first. Then what followed afterwards was a lot of thumping and scratching as the horrible black bats attempted to break into their small shelter. But by the first night, the sounds faded into silence. An unearthly silence that filled their hearts with fear...fear, something they had never experienced before. Elyon’s name was whispered continually in prayer for their deliverance and salvation. But no answer came.

Then the second day had come, but no one had been brave enough to open the door. They ate of the fruit that was stored around them in jars. It gave them some renewed strength. Night fell again and the next morning Daniel announced he was going out.

“If everything’s seems safe, I’ll come back. If I don’t...well...” he let his words trail, their meaning clear.

Some of the older men began to argue among themselves, reluctant to let a boy go in what should be their place. Never had Sarah seen anyone argue, but she also strangely disagreed and joined her voice into the protest.

But Daniel ignored them and ran up the stairs flinging the door aside before anyone could stop him.

Sarah sucked in her breath at this act of defiance. The young had always before respected the older on all things. She moaned as a filmy gray light flooded into their cramped space. Everything was so wrong....

Daniel’s body was momentarily silhouetted against this light and then the door fell back into place. Everyone held their breath, expecting to hear the Shataiki’s familiar shriek.

Nothing.

Sarah held a sleeping Rachelle, exhausted from crying and hunger across her lap. One arm was wrapped around Valerie who was curled beside her in the dirt.

Please, let them be gone, Elyon, Sarah prayed, bending of her small daughters. Her mind instantly shot to the image of her older daughter Keira, bouncing on her father’s shoulders, both laughing. Caleb’s eyes locked with hers immersed with Elyon’s love.

Let them be alive....she pleaded silently, tears falling down her cheeks.

Then Daniel’s voice jerked her back to reality. The door flew open, letting in the light once more and his smiling face appeared.

“Its safe...everything’s gone!”

The group slowly stood, stretching cramped muscles and filed up the steps. Sarah didn’t quite know what her brother’s words meant until she emerged into the light. Her hand flew to her mouth.

Everything was gone! Shataiki, the people, trees, flowers, grass, animals...Roush. A barren, black wasteland surrounded them in no way resembling the world they had left only days before. The village was empty and desolate, the houses no longer glowed their radiant colors. A gray-like ash seemed to have settled on everything, sucking away any life.

The group of refugees stood in grief, their heads bowed, a deep heaviness settling over them.

Some fell to their knees weeping, others just continued in their numb state of shock, walking aimlessly through the barren remains of their once beautiful village. Valerie began to sob as she gazed at the unfamiliarity around her. Daniel quickly scooped her up, trying to comfort her, his own anguish evident through the downward turn of his mouth.

“There has to be survivors,” Sarah said hopefully. Those nearest looked at her in disbelief. Daniel shook his head and pointed down what had once been the main street. Dark wide stains of blood lay scattered in every direction, covering the dirt.

“No bodies,” her brother murmured, dazed.

Sarah whirled around, staring across the village, the hard, cold truth settling in. There were no bodies...

“Elyon!” someone wailed. Sarah slowly sank to her knees, cradling Rachelle, closing her eyes to block out the miserable scene. She could feel her strength leaving her, a strange weakness settling throughout her bones. The unfamiliar desire to kill something surge through her mind. That’s what she would do to the Shataiki again if she ever saw one.

She heard a small exclamation from Daniel and her eyes slowly opened, glancing towards him.

He was holding Valerie at arms length and look of revulsion covering his features.

“Her eyes, Sarah....her eyes,” he stammered.

Sarah stumbled to her feet, lurching towards him and then stopped short as his own eyes met hers.

They were like glass marble...the clear cerulean blue had vanished. Her eyes flew to Valerie’s. The toddler’s were exactly the same, the beauty gone.

She felt Daniel gasp and knew her eyes revealed the same truth. She shifted Rachelle’s sleeping form. The child’s eyes were closed in blissful sleep. But Sarah knew that under those soft eye-lids her baby girl’s eyes had changed as well. She heard the upraised voice of the others and knew they weren’t the only ones discovering this new phenomenon. The voices were filled with the now familiar sensation...fear. Some were touching and scratching their exposed bodies.

Sarah glanced at her and Daniel’s arms. Dry as a bone. Thin lines were breaking out across the skin.

Daniel spun around,” We must get to the lake!”

He took off running. Sarah followed. Elyon was at the lake...Elyon was the lake. He could save them. He could explain what was happening.

Several others shouted in confusion after them, wondering where they were going, but realization soon took hold and Sarah heard pounding feet behind them.

Ten minutes later Sarah, Daniel and five others skidded to a stop at the banks of the great wide lake, the largest in the world...but now only a small pond. The great waterfall had dwindled to a trickle; the edges of the water were growing stagnant, and murky. But the center was still clear and sparkling.

Daniel screamed in panic and plunged in, still holding Valerie. Sarah followed.

The relief and pure delight was instant. Peace washed over them. Their terror dissipated and strength returned to their veins. They gulped the water into their bodies, desperate for its life-sustaining source.

Some one screamed as the water began to recede, first to their waists, then their knees then there ankles, sinking into a muddy ditch.

Sarah stumbled back to the dry beach, moaning. Glancing at everyone’s eyes, she realized their color had returned. That was good. But what would they do now?

The others joined her on the beach.

“Go to the nearest crossing,” said a voice above their heads.

Everyone pivoted to find the familiar comforting sight of a white Roush. Balin was his name, the wise one assigned to their tribe.

He looked wearied and burdened with a thousand cares of the world.

“What has happened, Balin?” asked one of the men, a broad-shoulder man by the name of Marcus.

“Evil has been given permission to release itself. Tanis drank the enemy’s water and ate their fruit.”

It was the “truth” no one had been willing to speak. But now coming from the Roush’s mouth, they realized finally that it was real.

Tanis...the father of mankind. The firstborn of the tribes had fallen. What had lured him there? How could he have desired such evil?

Sarah didn’t know if they’d ever know.

“What’s at the crossing?” she said weakly, gazing up at the white bird.

“There is refuge beyond the river deep in the desert towards the southeast,” Balin pointed in that direction with one of his wings,” but you must go through the Black forest to reach it.”

“Is that our only hope?” Daniel asked.

The Roush sadly nodded his head,” Evil has been released. It’s already infected your hearts...there is no escape. Gather what fruit you can and do not drink any water but Elyon’s. Perhaps you will make it. Many have already been taken. But if you remain here, all will die.”

Sarah held Rachelle tightly to her chest.

“How many survived?” she asked in choked voice.

The Roush’s kind, tired eyes swung to hers.

“Very few.”

She read the answer to her question between the lines. She began to weep softly.

“Hurry, there isn’t much time. Gather the others,” he urged them and then lifting his wings Balin flew away.

Marcus began to take charge, hurrying them back the village. Sarah stumbled along behind Daniel near the rear, vision blurred.

At village, they were surprised with shouts of joy when they discovered that more survivors had appeared, coming up out of basements and the houses. Two or three here...one maybe there. The biggest group was ten men and women who’d taken refuge in the Thrall. Among them were some of the village leaders. Ciphus and Jeremiah. Quickly everyone gathered, now numbering nearly fifty and Marcus informed them of the drying up lake and Balin’s words.

After a lengthy discussion, which involved several opinions, and consisted of one very determined group who wished to remain at the village and rebuild, they finally came to the decision to follow Balin’s instructions. Those who had disagreed, quickly realized how foolish their hopes had been. Like Balin had said, they would die if they remained here, in the charred remains of the once breathtaking forest.

Quickly the people gathered together any fruit they could find. Some had already rotted away, turning into ash, but some, like what had been in basements, was still good. Collecting these in several huge sacks they set off towards the south....the river and the crossing. It would be a nearly two day journey.

Sarah held her breath as she glanced towards the skies. What would they do if the Shataiki suddenly appeared again? She would never be able to shake the horrifying image of the swirling black mass as long as she lived. Following the others into the charred, dead forest of leafless trees, she prayed they would make it to the river. And as for the black forest?

...she doubted they would live through that.

Forgotten

Poem inspired by my Multicultural class this semester! This was my reflection response to our first unit!

The train stopped

when the tracks ended

it dumped me here

the child without a father

whose mother no one loves

with skin that no one understands

eyes that no one sees

lips that no one will kiss

feet that no one will clean

No one will tell me who I am

I don’t know how to tell myself

I’ve tried

over and over

but the heat inside

won’t let go

it cheers me on

and jerks me back

like puppet on a string

with a painted wooden face

the real boy was never meant to be

Memories tug at my membranes

massaging the tissues of my insides

mocking my stolen innocence

and shattered hopes

and then persistently fade

like black and white photographs

Tomorrow could be their last breath

before they are gone

like my grandparents who left

me for some place in the clouds

I grew up when

no one was watching

except the eyes of a cruel god

and empty moonbeams

I tried

I really did

but no one looked

even the girl

the one I thought would know

but the blood on her hands

matched the blood of others

and I had to cover my ears

to stop the screaming

my white rose

fell long ago

crushed under

the weight of heavy boots

and careless hands

pierced by a million

little lies that burned

every page of my journal

I might die today

but you won’t watch

because the blood

in my veins

is not yours

Year 2080

I wrote this for my final project in my fiction class last semester!...

I have lived longer than any seventeen-year-old girl should be allowed to live.

Today when I stepped out my front door onto the green lawn of our village square, I knew I had lived one day longer than I wanted to.

He was standing there. It was Jacob, the boy from my dreams, who wore the ripped jeans and tattered green army cap. I blinked and grabbed my jacket from behind the front door. I hurried off the porch and walked straight past him, not looking, not even glancing. If he was real, then I knew he would follow. If he wasn’t, then I was too far gone to care.

I was eleven-years-old when the dreams first began. The village physician had more aptly diagnosed them as night terrors. I would wake up at my parents’ bedroom door every time, screaming in fear and covered in sweat from head to toe. My gentle and docile parents were driven out of their minds with worry, trying cure me of whatever “disease” they feared was afflicting me. No herbal remedies or hypnosis or prayers or dream catchers seemed to do the trick. It was beyond ironic that though our village existed in perfect peace and harmony, we never seemed to escape from our violent past; a past that was not only our own, but also the past of the entire world.

As a child I was schooled in depth about the history of the past. It was expected that I know every detail, every one wrong choice and every consequence. It must never be repeated, ever again. This was drilled and hammered into my very existence with such a penetrating and forceful significance that it seemed at times to fill every corner and inch of my subconscious. I wondered if anyone could truly move forward into the future without the weight of our awful history keeping them frozen in time. I asked my instructor Mr. Hammerstein once, “ Why do we exist?” He told me we were here to create a better future then the past that we destroyed.

I’m not sure I agree with him, or maybe something is wrong with me. Maybe my dreams are a curse I have been given, a way for the past to hold onto me with a tenacious grip of terror. Everything I have been taught has fueled the nightmares. The past reaches out for me with tight, tangled claws. What better future am I creating if I can never live in it? What if I can never be free from fear of the past?

There is only one hope in every nightmare, and it is Jacob. His blue eyes haunt me as he holds out his hand and begs for me to grab it. I never have; I always wake up gasping for air.

I walk towards the forest behind our dairy barns. I can hear his footsteps following me, crunching on the dead leaves that have begun to fall from the trees. He cannot be real. My mind is playing tricks. The dreams are crashing into my reality. They are merging the line between sleep and wakefulness. I have learned to numb myself, to ignore the dreams and to hold back my screaming. I do this for the sake of my family, my village and my own sanity. I thought I had mastered it. I thought I was strong enough until now.

I did not turn around until the village was hidden behind the trees. I glared at Jacob as he stopped five feet in front of me. My eyes met his, but I refused to be the first to speak.

“You don’t believe I am real, do you, Havyn? ” he asked slowly.

“That you even know to ask me is not encouraging my belief in your reality,” I retorted cynically.

“Well, whether you believe or not now does not affect what you will believe.” He stuck out his right hand,” I’m Jacob.”

I folded my arms coldly,” How do you know my name?”

“Why did you let me follow you into the forest?” he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

I stumbled for a reply,” I don’t know...I was trying to – I was trying...”

I stared at him unable to say anything clearly. He slowly smiled and this expression more than anything else sent chills down my spine. Why would he smile?

“I know you need to be able to trust me, Havyn,” he said slowly,” and by the look on your face I can tell I am freaking you out. I have never seen you before, yet you look at me as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

I held a hand to my cheek self-consciously, “I have seen you. You are the boy in my nightmares.”

Jacob was now the one who seemed confused and his bright eyes darkened, “What?”

“I have nightmares, and you are always the boy who tries to save me. I knew your name was Jacob, even before you told me your name.” I watched him let this information sink in then asked,” Why are you here now and how do you know my name?”

I was beginning to tremble slightly in my fingers. Jacob immediately grabbed my left hand and held it gently as he spoke forcefully, “Please don’t be frightened. I am not here to hurt you. Did I ever hurt you in your dreams?”

His eyes searched mine and I slowly shook my head, “No, you were always the only thing that made sense, the only thing I could trust.”

Jacob squeezed my hand between his own, “Then will you listen to everything I have to say? I am not asking you to believe, only to listen. Can you do that?”

I hesitantly nodded my head in agreement and let him lead to me to a large rock lying nearby. We sat down as he began to talk.

“The first thing you need to know, Havyn, is not going be easy to understand.” He shuffled his feet before continuing, “I am not from here, or even from this time. I am from the past, from before the Great War. I was born on August 7, 1999. I grew up in the country once known as the Unites States. I can’t explain why you’ve seen me in your dreams. I don’t know what I would do or who I would have become when the war began, but I do know why I’ve been sent here and I know why I can’t go back.”

I could feel my hands gripping the rock under me, rubbing my nails raw, “So you are a time traveler?”

Jacob nodded, “Yes.”

“And you’ve been sent here to do what?”

“Well, technically, to save you, among other things,” he winked.

This took me back, “Save me from what?”

“Yeah, well, that will take longer to explain.” He leaned back against the rock, “The world is a lot bigger than this village, Havyn, and evil did not stop when the war ended. Your picture perfect life is not going to last.”

“I am only half able to believe you because of my nightmares.” I wanted to cry as feelings of fear touched my heart. I had less ability to walk as innocently as the other children. The nightmares had always stained my soul.  I didn’t believe in picture perfect, even though every day I lived it. Who could accept it when the night hours were so filled with terrors?

“I am not expecting you to get it right away.” He closed his eyes as if he was in pain himself, “I didn’t want to come at first. It was hard knowing the future, but not being able to show you.”

I felt my head spinning, “How do you know the future if you are from the past?”

He opened his eyes, “Because, you sent people back to us. They told us what will come, so I chose to come here. You need to know now, today, what the truth is.”

I closed my eyes. I could feel tears squeezing their way to the surface. The future had always been bright, always full of hope until now. The village I lived in was one of so many on the earth. Life was simple. We lived by rules and obeyed them to the letter.

There was no reason to refute them. They kept us safe. We were secure from the terrors of the past; there were no cars, no lights, no computers, no TVs and absolutely no weapons of any kind. No technology from the past had been carried over into the future.

We were creating perfection. Our elders told us this every Sunday morning in chapel, but in all our simple perfection no one could erase my nightmares. This was why I was still sitting on the rock, listening to Jacob.

I wiped away my tears and asked him, “How could I send anyone into the past? We don’t even have phones here.”

“Because it was ‘future’ you from the year 3000. You don’t live in a village anymore, Havyn. You are a soldier in an army of rebels who have uncovered a powerful government that has created and controlled all the villages since the Great War ended in 2040. The technology that has grown under cover and in secret is so far advanced that anything we had a hundred years before is completely obsolete. The ability for time travel is created in 2090 and many men and women have been sent back in time to repair the damages the Great War did to our world. You sent two men back to 2018. They found me and many others and convinced us of the truth. I was trained by them and taught on many things, but they were killed before we effectively recreated our own time machine. Only one person could go. I volunteered and came here. There is no way to get back.”

I had no choice but to accept what Jacob was saying, “Why did you come to me now instead of  further in the future?”

Jacob frowned, “Because the future is always changing, and not just the good guys have the ability to bend space and time.” His voice grew very deep and solemn,“You are not the only one with nightmares, Havyn. There are 874 others who were born on the same day as you who are the same age and you are all going to be destroyed.”

I couldn’t breathe for a minute as I stared out into the trees. I could not see my village, but I could imagine it. It is immaculately green with little white cottages, blooming gardens and cobbled streets. Everyone would be preparing for the noon meal. The baker would be setting out fresh loafs in his front windows and the children would be picking ripe vegetables from the gardens. Could all of it really be meaningless?

I didn’t even blink as I replied, “And the nightmares? They have them too?”

He nodded, his eyes sad and dark.

“Why do they want us to be destroyed?” I asked.

“Because you will ask questions and you will keep looking for truth.”

I slid off the rock,” And this is a bad thing?”

He stood, brushing off his jeans, “No, it’s not. You must never stop. That is why I am here.” He suddenly jerked his head as though he heard something loud. I didn’t hear a thing.

“It’s begun. They are here.” He pulled something from under his shirt behind him. I gasped and stepped back, recognizing the object in his hands from the drawings in our history books. It was black and shiny and shaped like an L.

It was gun.

“No…this can’t be the way!” I whispered.

“I’m not going to kill anyone who is innocent, Havyn,” he frowned,” this is only for protection. I will shoot anything that tries to kill you.”

“What are we going to do?” I asked, watching him fiddle with the gun for a second and causing it to make a loud clicking noise.

“We are leaving your village. You must disappear completely in order for this to

work,” Jacob stood as if waiting for me to agree or make a decision.

“The boundaries,” I said softly, “we can’t cross the boundaries.”

He chuckled almost mockingly, “It’s all in your mind, Havyn. They are not real; nothing will happen if you step outside of them.”

He brushed past me, “Hurry.”

“Wait,” I grabbed his arm, halting him, “What of all the villages?”

“In two more years there will be no such thing,” Jacob replied, face downcast.

“I’m sorry Havyn, it was only a vain dream, it isn’t real. What you are about to see when I take you away from here will scare you. Not even your nightmares will be enough. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry.”

I felt my fingers involuntarily tighten around his arm, “How do I know you are not just another dream?”

He held out his hand, “Have you ever taken my hand and actually followed me in your dreams?”

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply and then opened them to still see Jacob standing there. I released his arm and slowly took his hand. My palm slid against his. It  felt warm and sticky. He was flesh and bone. There was no doubt.

Jacob grinned and began walking fast, pulling me after him, “We only have ten minutes before they know you are gone, maybe less.”

My breath quickened as we ducked deeper under the trees. A soft ping sounded near my face. I let out a cry as bark flew harshly against my cheek. Jacob shoved me forward and whispered fiercely in my ear, “Run! That was a bullet!”

I broke into a desperate sprint, zigzagging through the undergrowth with terrified breaths. It was just like the nightmares! I heard the sound of Jacob’s gun, louder and more abrupt. It fired once, then twice and then a third time. There was immediately more soft rapid return fire. More bark flew off the trees around my head and funnels of dirt erupted at my feet. I heard Jacob immediately behind me, feet pounding the earth and breath heavy on my neck.

“Don’t look back!” he screamed,” We are almost there!”

I glanced forward and saw the wooden fence. It was the boundary. I skidded to a halt, but only found myself catapulted towards the fence as Jacob grabbed me from behind, “Jump!”

I felt the splintered wood dig into my knees as we both stumbled across and fell in a heap on ground that felt like loose gravel. I hit my head just above my left ear with hard crack! and pain cascaded down my body. It blinded my vision.

“Havyn!” I could hear Jacob shouting my name and pulling me to my feet. I squinted, vaguely seeing the outline of his face and a sky that was absolutely black. Starless. Only the moon hung like a fingernail scraping a blackboard.

And then I lost consciousness…

***

My parents threw a huge birthday party in the village gardens the year I turned eleven. I remember the satin white dress I wore with the green ribbons. I begged to wear green because I didn’t want to be like the other girls who wore pink. My mother had conceded with exasperation, complaining that I was too opinionated for my own good. I am sure I was, now that I think about it.

It is tradition for an eleventh birthday party to last all day in my village. Everyone stops what they are doing to celebrate. We gathered in the gardens and meadows all day eating, playing games and taking naps on colorful quilts across the emerald grass. I remember all the good things people said about me, reasons why they loved me and why I was going to do so well when I grew up. I remember all the gifts I received and all the gifts I gave away. I remember all the song I sang to the other children.

But what I remember the most about my eleventh birthday was my very first nightmare. It happened right at midnight. It is seared in my mind like an ugly scar. That was the night I lost my innocence. Forever…

My dream consisted of three things: two men ripping up the village gardens with axes, my mother lying dead on our front porch, blooding streaming from her nose, and Jacob running from the forest begging me to come with him.

I always knew my dreams were more real than my parents would let me believe. I had too many questions for my teachers and too much imagination for my friends. Only a few people knew about my nightmares. It had to be secret, because it couldn’t be explained. My dreams were an imperfect horror in a perfect world. That was why I could believe Jacob when he showed up. I had been waiting for him for a long time.

Jumping over the boundary was more than just running away from an obvious enemy who were wielding weapons, as surreal as that sounded. When I landed on the ground opposite the boundary I knew had done something real for the first time in my life. 

***

Jacob brought me around within five minutes. I was bleeding from a cut behind

my ear and shaking from the rush of adrenaline.

“They didn’t follow us?” I asked incredulously, staring around in confusion.

There were indeed no stars in the sky and it seemed to be the dead of night. The wooden

fence stood only a few feet away, but I saw no forest, only a massive, jagged cliff.  Where did that come from?

Jacob was shaking his head. He helped me sit up, ”They are just security officers

doing their job. They won’t go past the boundaries any more then you would have two

hours ago.”

I winced as he touched my head, “Does it hurt?”

“Like hell,” I grinned. I’d always wanted to say that, “Am I hurt bad?”

He shook his head,” No, the bleeding has already stopped. Can you walk?”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. Jacob’s gun was still in his right hand and I

caught myself staring at it. I wondered if he had hit any of the men chasing us. I didn’t ask.

“We have two hours until sunrise,” he began, “Only two. That’s enough time to make you disappear.”

He started walking along the fence line. I stumbled after him, “It’s so dark. Why?”

I vaguely saw his hand point to the sky,” We lost the stars 40 years ago. The sun only shines for six hours a day. The moon is almost gone too.”

I stared at the ghostly thin light of pale moon in the lower corner of the western sky. It looked nearly dead.

            “Hurry up,” he insisted. I saw his dim form circling a huge rock ahead. I reached Jacob just in time to see him climbing into some kind of oval object hovering above the ground. It was black and sleek with curved windows.

            “Get in,” he said, poking his head out and gesturing to the other side. One of the windows raised itself with a soft hiss and I saw an empty seat waiting for me. I quickly slipped in finding myself in what I could only guess was some kind of vehicle like those in the past, only this must be more far advanced than anything I had ever read about.

            “Strap yourself in,” Jacob gestured to a thin strap of material beside my right arm. I grabbed it and snapped the buckle into place. Green and red and white lights erupted in a clustered array on the dash in front of us. Jacob began pushing and pulling and flipping things so fast I couldn’t keep up.

            “It’s like a car, only we fly and it runs on air,” he grinned, “It won’t be that long of a ride.”

            We suddenly shot forward across the desert. My hand gripped my seat in fright. I felt my head spinning for little bit. I was sure Jacob would crash us in only a few seconds. I had never ridden anything so fast, except maybe horse.

            “Don’t look back,” Jacob said without warning. I glanced over at him, heat spreading across my face. What the heck did…?

            A sudden blazing light and explosion glared in our windows from behind. I started to spin around, but Jacob’s arm reached out holding me back,” You don’t want to do that. Please, Havyn. It’s better you don’t.”

            His eyes told me the truth of what I didn’t want to know. I sank into my seat

weeping, “The dreams were all true?”

            I felt Jacob shaking his head,” No, they were not…”

            “But…” I began, tears streaming uncontrollably.

“Havyn, don’t believe for a minute your dreams are true, do you understand me?”

He was gripping the wheel, as he spoke, with such force I was silent. The flames from behind reflected on both our faces through the windows. I slowly nodded,” ok.”

            I leaned my head against the window pane, softly crying. Jacob said nothing for a very long time. The desert slipped past us mile after mile.

            “Why did you come all this way to get me out?” I asked him finally,” Why me when there are so many others?”

            Jacob shrugged, “You were the one who sent men back to us. It seem only right that we pull you out first.”

            “I don’t want to die?” I whispered, still choked by tears.

            “I never said anyone was going to kill you,” he replied, and his voice suddenly grew very deep, “I’m sorry your village is gone, Havyn.”