When the sun sets and the blue fades to black, I once again wonder, what is true love? What it is that I lack?

I have tried to learn, to pick up the knack, From when I hear the early song of the dove, To when the sun sets and the blue fades to black.

What have I done, to be sent away with a smack? That when I offer a smile, I receive a good shove? What is it that I lack?

I’ll never wish upon anyone this awful attack. Of being left alone and left unloved, When the sun sets and the blue fades to black.

I know that love shouldn’t be as sharp as a tack. Nor hidden away and long forgotten of. What is it that I lack?

When at last I lie down on my back, And all I see are the stars shining above, When the sun sets and the blue fades to black, I wonder, what it is that I lack?

There is a place I go that only a few know about. It is quite a hike to get to, which deters all but the most adventurous. Or the most desperate. The path steep for my hoverboard, so I keep it folded in the pack slung across my back. And mag-cars break down if someone tries driving them past the city limits, so no use trying to use one of those.

It is important to wear the right shoes when climbing the rocky slope. I recommend sturdy boots with good traction. Not those smooth-soled, flimsy things that are the peak of style this month. Those things are barely good for walking down the flat city streets. All the glitter in the world will not help you if you twist an ankle halfway up the rough trail.

But for those who dare leave the dubious safety and comfort of progress and technology, there is a secret place high above the city’s smog and smoke. My uncle used to take me there when he needed to get away from the noise and the lights and constant hustle. I could see the years fall from his face the further we climbed. I think he found peace there, as he gazed over the city to the distant horizon. Now though, he has a different kind of peace.

It is definitely worth it, to make the climb. I still make the long trek when I can. Sometimes I sit in the simple swing some other adventurous soul set up and pretend I am soaring through the clouds. Other times I just close my eyes as I sway in the wind, recalling one of my uncle’s many stories…

I can take you there, if you’d like. Leave all the noisy and shiny things behind for a few hours or so. The city is bigger now, the path slightly more worn down than before. I assure you it’s worth it, the feeling you get when you make the journey. As if you are leaving the world and its worries behind.

And I’d like to share this experience with you.

As the sun dips lower to kiss the horizon a clear sound rings in the early autumn air. The sound is echoed by the varying tones of a multitude of bells swinging in their scattered towers standing sentinel across the land claimed by the castle town.

Although the work is not yet finished, those toiling in the fields and orchards immediately gather their tools and scurry towards the single open gate in the town’s outer wall. This close to dusk the other two gates embedded into the wall have already been sealed, the portcullis lowered and the drawbridge drawn up.

The bells continue to ring on, calling all stragglers to hurry inside the thick stone walls. Those on foot quicken their pace, not stopping if an item dropped. Those guiding the mules hitched to the smalls wagons snap the reins nervously, urging the plodding animals onwards.

The horses carrying riders clothed in leather and metal are more sensitive to the changes in the air. They paw at the ground, shifting and tensing their lean muscles, ready to run. The soldiers and commanding knights tighten their hold on the reins and check their bows and long swords while keeping their gaze fixed outwards, away from the walls and across the fields to the distant hills beyond.

The furthest bells, the two closest to the hills, fall silent. Moments later three more cease to ring and change is noticeable to all but the deaf or dead. The armed men begin their retreat. All should be behind the walls now. They turn and gallop to the gate, their steeds deftly avoiding abandoned tools.

One soldier spies someone fifty yards from the slowly closing gate. A boy struggle to unhitch his mule from a broken cart. The soldier alters his course and shouts to the foolish boy.

The boy lifts his head and widens his eyes seeing the horse and rider bearing down on him. With out slowing, the soldier catches the boy by his collar, lifting him to sit in front of him the saddle. The soldier snaps they reins and steers the horse back to the gate.

The bell ahead of them goes silent though it is still swinging in its perch. They are running out of time. The soldier urges the horse faster, faster. Pushing it past its limits. It is a race to the gate.

No.

It is a chase and they are the prey.

They soldier does not dare look behind as he pushes forward. The gate is almost closed, the drawbridge beginning to rise. It is only because the lookout sees them that the portcullis has not been lowered, but that cannot be delayed much longer.

The horse leaps the gap, barreling through gate doors and the soldier barely registers the pain of his legs shoulders scrape against the stone.

The gates doors are sealed behind him and he hears the the chains rattle as the portcullis is swiftly lowered. The soldier and the boy dismount. The soldier checks the boy and seeing he is fine, if breathing heavily, the soldier opens his mouth to scold him when the last bell, the one that hangs on top the wall above the gate silences.

The soldier, the boy, and everyone still lingering by the gate freeze as if by a spell until, as one, they turn towards the gate. Waiting. Listening.

And moments later, howling winds batter against the thick stone walls and inhuman screams fill the air.

May I have a puppy, please? A pretty puppy would be perfect, Don’t you agree?

About the puppy, did I ask Daddy? Tell him my dream of having a dog all my own? What did he say?

No.

But please, Mommy, may I? My puppy will have the bestest care, I swear.

I will walk her and bath her and brush out her fur. I will love her forever and ever, and ever and ever. Please?

No.

…May I have a kitty, please?

Screeching alarms echoed throughout the ship silencing all chatter on the mess deck. At the same time, the lights along the top and bottom of the walls turned orange and began pulsing in a steady pattern. What we heard next had us scrambling to our feet, meals forgotten.

“Alert! Alert!” The ship’s voice sounded over all comm channels. “This is a code orange! Alert! Alert! This is a code orange! Unnecessary personnel are to return to their quarters. All other crew are to report to their superiors for further instructions. . . Alert! Alert! This is a code orange!”

‘This is bad!’ I thought to myself. ‘This is bad, this is bad. This is really, really bad!’ Luckily no one noticed my panic. Mostly because I was not the only one who had a slight breakdown. An orange alert meant the ship sensed it had been infiltrated by a Chidecki.

The Chideck are a race of shape-shifting aliens humans discovered during the infancy of their space exploration. Let’s just say that ‘first contact’ did not go well. Only a threat by Chidecki warrants an orange alert. Should any of the other space-faring races threaten humans, they would only get a red alert.

This is not good. The ship is on the edge of chartered space. The closest possible help is a light-week away. By the time anyone reaches us…let’s not think about that.

I followed the others out of the mess hall and tried to clear my head. I would need all my wits about me for the foreseeable future. An orange alert. I thought I had covered everything. Taken all the precautions, both necessary and unnecessary.

Human technology could sense when a Chidecki phased, or shifted forms, and I know I haven’t. Not since I stepped aboard. Not even in my sleep, or I would have been found out by now.

The jarring alarm quieted to a manageable level, but the orange lights continued to pulse throughout the ship. If I did not set off the alert then…

There must be another Chidecki aboard this ship.

*Kelson, Drew, and Edith are seated on a couch playing a racing game. Ryan walks into room looking at his phone.

Ryan: Did you all know that there’s a place called Christmas Island?

Kelson: Do you mean the island with the giant heads?

Edith: That’s Easter Island.

Drew: There’s a Christmas Island in the Indian Ocean that was invaded by the Japs during World War Two. Is that the one?

R: No, this one’s smack dab in the middle of the Pacific. It actually goes by a different name, but it translates to Christmas. I can’t pronounce it. Kiri..Kirita…Kitima…

D: Kiritimati?

R: That’s it!

E: Of course Drew’s heard of it.

K: So, there’s an Easter Island and TWO Christmas Islands? Mind blown.

R: Yah. And fun fact, nuclearbombs were tested in the fifties and sixties on Kirita…

D: Kiritimati

R: Kiritimati Island.

D: I knew that! Now it’s some sort of bird sanctuary, or something.

*Edith wins race.

K: No!!!!

E: Yes! Thank you gentlemen, fork over the cash.

D: Ryan distracted me. He should pay.

R: What!

K: I demand a rematch!

E: Drew’s got a point, Ryan. What’s up with the random trivia? Trivia Night’s not ‘til next week.

R: Haven’t you all seen the news?

D:…

E:…

K: Why? I never watch it. It’s always depressing.

E: Or fake.

D: And too many advertisements.

*Ryan sighs and turns television to a random news station.

Reporter: This just in, government officials confirm that the unidentified ship that set down off the coast of Kiritimati is extraterrestrial in origin. Officials urge everyone to stay in their homes and to not panic. The…

*A burst of static that clears to reveal a green skinned being.

K: The hell?

Alien: We…jikot desa…come in peace. Hutge…and bring warning…yiip ukkol…The…Dapi…ghu…The Dapier Theocracy is…feer…coming….

*Another burst of static. Reporter reappears briefly before screen goes black. The four friends stare at each other.

E: Aliens?!

D: First contact. We are witnessing history.

K: What. The. Hell.

R: This is why I keep saying you should watch the news.

“Good morning Sam!”

“Good morning Miss Kim!” I waved to her as I walked by on my way to class. Then my brain registered what I was seeing and I halted mid-step.

“Decorating for Halloween, Miss Kim?” I asked even though the answer was obvious. She was busy rearranging the arms of one of the skeletons on her porch. Two were already set up, posed sitting at a table as if studying the game of chess in front of them.

“Yes, Sam. Don’t they look great?!” Miss Kim made a motion with her hand and I felt obliged to take a closer look. I wished I had just kept walking. Those skeletons were just too realistic to have been bought from a store’s seasonal section. Come to think of it, these particular bones looked awfully familiar…

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Miss Kim?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Does Dean Mitchell know that you’ve borrowed the biology department’s teaching skeletons again?”

‘The hustle and bustle of a city that never sleeps. The glimmer and glamour of lights always aglow. Every day the same, every day a change. What would I do…’

“Music off.” The mag-car’s computer complied as the autopilot maneuvered through the narrow streets. The pedestrians below barely glanced upwards as the car flew by. Its single passenger gazed past her reflection to watch the street signs as she neared her destination.

Clara tucked an errant lock of golden hair behind her ear. She never imagined she would return to her childhood home. It had been years. Too many years. Too many memories. The street names may have stayed the same, but the store faces were all unfamiliar to her.

For a brief moment she would see the coffee shop where they first met, or the jewelers where they picked out their rings. Then reality would lift the veil of memory and reveal a grocers or a boutique trying to hide timeworn scars.

“Why did I come back?” Clara mused aloud, although she already knew the answer. There was no place else she could go. A better question would be, would he still remember her, from their past life together? Would he recognize her in this shell of a woman she had become? It had taken her a long time to heal even this far.

The mag-car slowed as it descended before finally coming to a halt in front of an art gallery. “You have reached your destination on the left,” the computer said in a monotone. At least some things never change. Clara pressed a button on the screen. Once the payment was processed, the door lifted smoothly upwards.

The familiar sounds and smells hit her hard. Clara took a moment to still her trembling hands. She tightly gripped the handle of her bag and stepped onto the sidewalk. The door closed behind her and the car immediately lifted off back into the air.

“There’s no going back now.” She readjusted her grip on the bag and pulled open the door to the gallery. She heard a bell chime somewhere in the back as she entered and a faint, “Be with you in a moment.”

Clara wandered the gallery while she waited. The beautiful works of art soothed her, just as they always had, from the highly detailed landscapes to the bright abstract splashes of color. It felt like home.

A portrait further down the wall drew her eye. It was as tall as she was and no other artworks dared to claim a space on the wall beside it. The painting depicted a young woman laughing as she gazed at the artist, her untamed golden hair caught by the wind. But it was her eyes that mesmerized Clara. It was the sadness in them that had her ghosting her fingers over the the painted face.

“A most beautiful lady is she not?” Clara froze when a man’s voice spoke up behind her. She had not heard anyone approaching. She lowered her hand.

Not facing him she asked, “Who is she?”

“She is the artist’s wife. The love of his life.”

Clara let a small smile reach her lips. “I can tell.” She gripped her bag tighter. “When was this painted? I don’t remember it from my last visit.”

“It is a recent work. The artist saw his wife in a dream and could not rest until he had put it to canvas.” The man paused for a moment. “The artist hoped that the dream was a sign, that he would soon see his wife again.”

Tears flowed freely down Clara’s checks as she turned to face the man beside her. He had tears in his own eyes as well. She dropped her bag as he pulled her close, burying her face in his shoulder.

He held her tightly as they both wept in relief and joy. “Welcome home, Clara.”

He would never let her go again.

Once upon a time there was a great battle among the gods that almost destroyed the very world they created. On one side was Aetos, the great golden eagle. On the other was his younger half-brother, Typhon, the winged emerald serpent.

Both loved the world they created, full of varied lands and life. From the giants that lived among the tallest mountains to the denizens of the deepest seas, all were cared for like a gardener cares for his flowers.

But they, Sun-touched Aetos and Jeweled Typhon, they disagreed on what to do when their youngest children emerged from their forested home and began to shape the world around them.

Aetos wished to send the beings called humans back into the forest. The forest was where they were made and the forest was where they belonged.

Typhon, instead of agreeing with his brother, was intrigued by the humans. He wished to see what curious new things they would think of, and maybe even help them a little.

Typhon, without the knowledge of Aetos, gave a tiny drop of his essence to a single human, a leader among the rest. This allowed the human have a glimpse of the fabric of the world, to see it, feel it, maybe even manipulate it.

Thus, the first wizard was created.

Furious Aetos, angered with Inquisitive Typhon, demanded that his brother destroy the wizard.

“Destroy the god-touched!” Aetos roared, leaving deep trenches in the land when Typhon’s refusal pushed him back. “A mortal can never be trusted with the power of a god, however slight it may be.”

“No!” Typhon prepared another blast of power as Aetos charged him again. All creatures trembled at the sight. Their prayers beseeching the two deities to end this feud all went unanswered and they knew the clash would destroy the world.

With one final desperate prayer, the wizard called upon Sleeping Zephyr, sister to both Aetos and Typhon. Only she would be able to stand between the two raging gods. By a great miracle, the wizard’s plea reached her ear.

A strong gust wind suddenly danced across the land and sea, sending all mortal creatures to their knees and knocking Aetos and Typhon from the sky.

Zephyr, the lady of the calming breeze and the mighty wind, had awoken.

She stood before her brothers who watched her every move. She covered another yawn, but was only able to block part of the resulting breeze.

As she gazed between the two, she asked, “How long have I been asleep? It must be close to a thousand years.” Aetos and Typhon silently nodded in agreement.

Then Zephyr noticed the creatures, the life they had created to cherish and love, cowering in fear around them. She demanded her brothers explain the cause and, hanging their heads in shame, they did.

When they finished, she summoned the wizard forward. With a controlled wind, she lifted the wizard up and set the brave human in the palm of her hand. There she studied the wizard while all held their breath awaiting her decision.

Wise Zephyr said, “What will come, will come. They are our creations and so reflect all parts of ourselves. Let them be.”

Her decision final, she gently sent the wizard back to the ground. Such a small creature to cause such a commotion.

As she watched the wizard walk away, she spoke again to her brothers. “No more interference,” she told them, “it is time to rest awhile. Let time take its course and let’s wait and see what other surprises our children will bring.”

And so Aetos the Eagle, Typhon the Serpent, and Zephyr the Wind hid themselves from mortal sight to let what will be, be.

What would it be like, To gaze into an unfamiliar sky, And name the countless stars, As they dance throughout the night?

It would be like a dream, Seeing familiar things anew, For a star is more than a star, When it breathes new wonder into you.

Who would be beside me, To watch the endless waltz, Of twin moons rising in the distance, Showering all below in silver light?

It would be me lying beside you, On grass that could be blue or gold, For I would explore the far most planets, As long as I could remain with you.