Grant took a sharp breath in, held it for five seconds, and then exhaled. He attempted to follow the breathing patter his therapist had spoken about, yet his heart pounded against his rib cage sreaming for him to get out of the school gym. Like a bird trapped in a cage, his heart seemed to almost escape from his chest. The entire school sat on the stand waiting for him to open his mouth. Just one word. He needed to say something, anything. Everyone was watching. He had practiced this for weeks, he was prepared, but he felt like everything around him was crashing to the ground. He silently hoped that the entire school would come crashing to the ground and in the rubble a large piece of the ceiling would crash on him. For a moment he was transported away, to a far away place. He stood on a board, high in the sky, above an angry ocean. He knew the moment he started speaking he would be jumping off of the board in to the choppy waters. Deep. The water was deep, and looked incredibly cold. Then, as though somone had wound him up like a windup toy, words started to spew from his mouth. One sentance after another. “And if you elect me as your student body president I will…” Each sentance escaped his mouth like a cool river on a summer day. Each word carefully chosen for his speech. He smiled. He didn’t even register half of the words he had memorized. The words had become second nature to him now, they were almost a part of who he was. The blank stares of the students gave him even more confidence as he spoke, not a single one reacted. Each was as still as a rock and emotionless as a mannequin. Grant was the quitest kid that Ella had ever met, so this was the most impressive thing she had ever seen. It was even hard to get him to share his thoughts about his day when she asked. His soft spoken nature was cute to her. She loved the gentle way he spoke, each word like a whisp of smoke, leaving his body, floating in the air around him, and then disappearing before anyone could hardly detect it. Today was different however, each word was sharp, forceful, and strong. The two had entered Grant in to the race, not to win, but to start an adventure, something they had never done before. Ella always seemed to know what to say, and when to say it, so when the question of class president was brought up she was the obvious candidate. It took weeks of convincing Grant to throw his hat in the ring. “Vote Grant Thompson for class president.” Grant smiled, and as a gut reaction walked to the bleachers as quickly as possible putting his hand on his chest. He breathed in and out feeling his chest rise and fall under his hand. Just feeling himself physically breath brought him a sense of comfort and control. He had done it. Ella elbowed him and gave him a thumbs up. He smiled. To him it didn’t matter if he won, he had simply given a public speech which was a win itself. He didn’t even notice the clapping after his speech. “That was so good Grant.” Ella congradulated him. The speech was completely written by her so it was a sort of self congratulatory compliment as well.

Parker lay in the long grass on the grassy hill just outside of town, staring up at the new fading blue sky. The sun dipped just below the horrizon shooting rays of orange and yellow across the horizon. A slight breeze whisped past him and Sarah. Summer was officially gone, and the cool breeze of fall seemed to welcome them home. He smiled. There might have been homework to think about, but all he could think about was the perfect moment of laying on the hill, right then, right there, nothing in this world could take that from him. “Aren’t you afraid?” Sarah whispered, her words being caught by the wind and drifting in to Parker’s ear. “Afraid?” “Afraid of being in love with a dying girl?” Parker smiled. He was in fact in love with a dying girl, and yes he was afraid, not because he was in love, but because he wasn’t sure how best to show it. He turned over on his side and looked at Sarah. She remained staring up at the sky, birds flew overhead, setting off south for the summer sun. The birds had their escape, but Sarah did not. He wondered what kind of answere she was looking for from him, as though he needed to say just the right thing. He wanted to say something like you seem pretty alive to me, but the words didn’t feel quite right. “I suppose I am.” He replied laying back down on his back, the air sat still for a moment. His heart pounded nearly out of his chest. He was in fact afraid, he was afraid of what was next for them, for where things could go, and what he was to do. This moment was so perfect because none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered right then was that they were there, laying on the hill, together. This was the same hill they would roll down as kids, run around on playing tag, and laugh on telling silly stories from school. The hill, the dirt, was filled with more memories than could be contained in either of their heads. “I am not afraid of the second part though. I am afraid of the first.” “What do you mean, Parker?” Sarah sat up and stared off at the setting sun just beyond the city they called home. The first few stars began to peak just through the twilight. “I mean, I am afraid of being in love. Dying or not, love is scary. Love is that kind of emotion that is difficult to control. Anger, frustration, joy, sadness, all revolve around myself, they all occur because of me. Love, however, deals with another person, and I cannot control how that other person might handle that emtion for me.” Parker sat up too, but instead stared at Sarah. Her long brown hair which was now falling out in clumps gently flowed in the wind. Her eyes darted across the horizon, and Parker wanted more than anything to know what was running through her head. She was the dying girl, and he was the living boy, but if he could have changed those places he would have. “I am just a tragedy waiting to happen.” Tears began to stream down her face. She knew that whoever she came in contact with, whatever relationship she built would just lead to pain, and sadness. “I am just a dark pit, waiting to swallow any happiness that comes my way.” “Sarah,” Parker trailed off, “you are a ball of light. Everyone who knows you would say that, and wherever there is the light, the flowers will find it.” Parker moved closer to Sarah so their shoulders were touching, she flinched, as though even the touch would lead to his own demise. “Sorry, would you like me to move away?” Parker asked. “No, no.” She wept, “Stay with me.” “Always.” He replied. He knew he couldn’t stop the forces of nature taking Sarah from this world, but he knew he could at least be with her through it. Death at sixteen was seemed like such a foreign concept to the two just three years ago, and yet they were so well aquainted with it now that it seemed like an old friend. Parker had watched his mom, his grandparents, and now Sarah, meet death, as morbid as it was. Sometimes he questioned God why He would be the one to take everything from him. Parker was angry and hurt that everything around him slowly faded in to the void, and yet in that moment, they sat, in silence watching the seconds tick by together.

I slid the bag across the table, the hooded figure opposite me peered inside. “Where the hell did you find this?!” I remained silent because we both knew where it came from, it was what we had been searching for for years. The hooded man lowered his hood and with shaking hands reached for the bag. “I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.” I coolly said as though the words were like smoke escaping from my mouth. “Could take ya some place ya don’t wanna go, ya know?” I smirked. It was kind of a joke, but only the kind of joke I enjoyed. The material was dangerous, and being unrefined left it to be volititle especially in contact with carbon. Lucan paused, the smile from his face was whisked away and replaced with a scowl. He put his hood back on and closed the bag in one swift motion. “You are meaning to tell me that you got unrefined Bolirium?” He snorted. I simply nodded, my smile never removed from my face. I knew he wouldn’t like it, and yet that gave me a sense of pleasure, nothing I ever did seemed to please Lucan. If only he knew the troubles I had to go through the get it, maybe he might be a little more grateful. He must have had some sense of the struggle just by his initial question. Bolirium, the most illusive substance in the universe, due to its properties to warp space and time, one second it is here, another it is there, and then poof, it is in another universe. “You know that the master is not going to be happy about this.” “Well then you can tell ‘im to find the damn substance ‘imself.” I spat back. To find even a table spoon of the subtance takes a lifetime or more, I had a whole bag of it. It was enough to make a whole world disappear, the only problem was controling where the world went exactly, that is where refinement helps. Refining Bolirium allows the user to direct where things go, and when. I knew Lucan was mad, he seemed to be fuming over in his chair across from me. The refinement process was only known to a select group of people, the Scholars, and their ranks were so selective and secretive that no one even knew where they were. “So now what?” Lucan stood up from his chair with the Bolirium in hand. “Now, we are needin’ to refine the stuff.” “I know that.” Lucan threw the bag on the table a small puff of Bolirium shot up in to the air and then in a flash of light disappeared. “Be careful ya fuckin’ idiot.” I cried out. I grabbed the cloth sack off the table and peered inside to make sure the bright blue powder was still inside, it was. Losing any amount would be a loss of a years worth of work. I sat back in my chair, my brain buzing with ideas. I knew we would need to refine the substance, but didn’t have a clear path as to how. Master Kuriun would have my head if he found out if had only retrieved unrefined Bolirium, and Lucan was afraid that he would meet the same fate, that must have been why he started to pace the floor. “What do you suggest we do?” “Well, refine the stuff.” I joked again. Lucan stopped pacing the floor and glared at me, or at least I assumed he glared at me, I couldn’t see his eyes under his hood. “I have an idea, okay?” I stood up and approached him. “The only people who know how to refine the stuff are the Scholars, right? So, we simply get me in with the Order of the Scholars and I learn the process.” In a process that was too quick for me to comprehend Lucan’s hand colided with my face as he spit on the floor at my feet. “This some sort of game for you Ramos? You think this is funny? You report to me, and I don’t like your attitude.” He began pacing again. I was upset that I was only slapped, I was expecting a punch right between the eyes. I was serious though, this was the only way that we could get this stuff in working order. Although the plan was simple it was near impossible, but it was either follow my plan or be seated on the right hand of Master Kuriun with my head on a stake. Lucan finally sat down again, this time his hands folded on the table in front of him. He seemed to have calmed down, and knew this was the only option. “I have some options for us, we will get you in to the Order, but it is going to take some work. Come back tomorrow.” Without another word I was dismissed. I grabbed my leather satchel from the ground and made my way out of the room. The long stone castle halls were gloomy this time of day, it didn’t help that there wasn’t movement in site. The guards were forced to stand still, completely still for hours on end, leading me to believe that some of them were just decoys. I thought they could liven up a little bit, but ironically that would lead to their death. Being a rouge scout meant that I was one of the only people to be able to come and go from the castle without question. I worked for Lucan, and yet some times had to do things my own way.

Thomas stood on the doorstep, staring at the large green oak door. The paint was fading, and the whole door was starting to fall off of its hinges. The frame looked as though it was holding on to the door for its own life. A small gust of wind pushed past the small group of eleven year old boys and for a moment Thomas wondered if it was going to push the entire house over. “Come on Thomas, you can’t be that scared of this old house.” Roy knudged Thomas in the side with his elbow. Thomas flinched as his stomach turned over. “I’m not scared.” Thomas retorted. He took a deep breath and moved towards the concrete steps leading up to the door. Memories of rumors about the house flooded his mind. Alex the Axe Murderer, Satanic rituals, Mrs. Harris his second grade teacher he wondered if all of them might actually be inside. Mindlessly his feet carried him up the steps, his hands curling in to fists as he reached the door. He needed to keep his head calm as to apear cool to Roy, as much as he hated the idea of entering this old run down house he wanted to lead the group on this daring adventure and be the hero that did so. “Are we sure this is a good idea?” Mark piped up from behind Roy. “I mean,” He stuttered, “there are only three of us, and who knows what could be lurking behind that door.” “Not you too.” Roy groaned. “We said we were going to go on adventures this summer, school starts tomorrow and we have not done one adventerous thing.” Thomas knew Roy was right, they had all agreed to a sense of adventure this summer, that was their summer motto, but this was not the type of adventure he had in mind. He wanted to go float the Boise River, or camping, not explore the town’s OSHA violation. The house had stood here, abandonded, since he was born, and everyone wanted to see it demolished and yet the town did nothing about it, it was like there was some force that stopped every effort to take it down. The bickering faded to the back of Thomas’s mind as he reached for the door handle, his heart seemed to almost beat out of his chest. This was it. It seemed as though there was no turning back now. The brass handle was hot to the touch in the late summer afternoon sun. He took a deep breath and turned the handle, but to his suprise it did not turn. Locked. He sighed a sense of relief. “Well,” Roy chitted, “open it.” “It’s locked, Roy.” “Well then, let’s find another way in.” Roy pushed past Mark and down the steps. Mark and Thomas remained on the porch staring at the large green door. There was something about this house that seemed to call to Thomas, a call that he wanted to refuse. “Roy!” Mark shouted. “It’s locked for a reason, we should just go play video games or something.” Roy was already around the corner of the house. “What do you think Thomas?” “He probably wont find another way in and then, yes, let’s go play video games.” Thomas hoped he was right. He then turned to follow Roy with Mark close behind him. Upon rounding the corner of the house they found Roy staring down at two cellar doors that looked as warn down as the front door. A devilish grin stretched across his face. Thomas knew in an instant that this was the way they were getting in to the old house. “Bingo!” Roy yelled. “Not so loud!” Mark yelled just as loud. “Remember, we are not supposed to be here. If our parents found out we were doing this they would kill us, or even worse, the cops…” Thomas and Mark came to stand next to Roy. He reached down and pulled up on the doors which opened without resistance. The smell of old musty water wafted from the pitch black abyss. The three boys stood there frozen, waiting for one of them to move. Thomas, knowing this was his chance to show his leadership took a step down on to the first cellar step. “There!” Mark exclaimed. “We did it, we entered the house. Can we go now?” “Not yet idiot.” Roy spat. “We said we would _explore _the house.” Thomas continued down in to the cellar followed by Roy and Mark. A small square of light surrounded their feet illuminted by the open cellar doors. The surrounding darkness seemed to engulf everything around them. Thomas squinted in to the darkness attempting to adjust his eyes to whatever might be looming. BAM! The boys were now completely surrounded in darkness. “What the fuck?” Roy shouted. “Roy!” Mark yelled back, “Don’t swear.” Thomas whirled around and squinted through the dark mist to see the cellar doors had slammed shut. Roy darted back to the doors and pushed up against them with his shoulder but they would not budge. They were stuck. “Well,” Roy said, huffing for breath making his way back down the stairs. “Only one way out of here now.” He seemed calm despite the boys now being locked in the cellar of the old house. Thomas, again, trying to stay calm as to appear cool for Roy. Mark grabbed on to Thomas’s arm. “The cellar doors didn’t have a lock on them.” Mark whispered. “Someone must have put something heavy over the doors or locked them some how.” Thomas was curious as to how or why someone would have locked them in the cellar but didn’t want to accept the fact that that might be the case. He shook his head. Glancing around the cellar his eyes were now adjusted and he could clearly see everything was draped in white cloth. Thomas moved forward in to the cellar leaving Mark’s grasp. He reached for a white cloth pulling it off the object which it sat sending dust flying through the air and revealing a grand piano in its place. Roy, now feeling the sense of adventure he had always wanted start to scout around the basement as well. “Look at all this stuff!” Roy exclaimed. Mark stayed close to Thomas’s side as he weaved through piles of old and forgotten items, boxes of vinyls, old magazines, dusty furniture. The boys wandered in the basement for no more than a moment when a large crash could be heard from the corner. “Hello?” Thomas cried out instinctively. Mark grabbed on to his arm again, this time tighter than before. There was no response, just a small stirring noise coming from the corner. Roy slowly made his way over to the center of the room where Thomas, and Mark stood staring at the corner. Through the darkness Thomas could see a small figure stand up and stare at the boys. No one moved. No one made a sound. The three boys and the figure just stood staring at each other. Then the figure spoke. “Hi.” It was a small voice, one of a child, no older than eight. He sounded scared. “Who are you?” Roy barked. “I don’t know.” The voice sheepishly replied. “You don’t know who you are?” Roy sounded sterner than before. The small figure took a step forward towards the group but Roy was quick to hiss back, “don’t come closer.” “I… I…” The young boy stuttered. “I don’t know where I am.” He muttered.

My hands were shaking, perhaps because of the train, but I think it had more to do with the words typed out on my screen. The strangers on the train had no interest in my panic, and yet each of them seemed to be staring right into my soul. I locked the screen and prayed that it would all just go away, perhaps the message wasn't real, or perhaps it would delete itself. I didn’t know the sender, but I knew what they indented to do with me, now they knew I was a double agent. There was no turning back now. I was alone, a solo woman on a solo mission, save my life. Maybe I would disappear as well, disappear from the train, from the city, from the world.

"No," I whispered. "There is no way." I had been discovered, and they knew who I was. This was worse than death itself. If they knew me then everyone did. It didn’t matter where I hid, they would find me. I knew I had to act, and act quickly, but where was I to go? I was on the train headed south to what used to be my home, this was no longer the case.