I hummed a merry little tune whilst opening my shop along the street of the market. It was the Midieval Times and I ran a little stall along the side of Main Street, like many others. I’m no ordinary man—I am from lands far off. I came from the lands hidden from plain sight, or so I tell my customers. Many take me for a wacky man speaking blasphemy, with my strange slicked-back hair that has no white though I am past forty and my strange clothes, but I know powers far more dangerous than anyone else in this growing crowd. This crowd of my hapless, unkowing customers.

Most of my wares are dangerous. My statues come to life in the middle of the night to kill people. My china poisons those who drink from them. My books leave the person weeping tragically forever, or dangerously mad for a time, or unable to put them down. Like…for real. My jewelry drives people mad.

I could plead guilty, to convince you that I feel sorry for the people, that a man must eat sometimes. But…that would be lying. 

The truth is, I _like _when they buy the things and walk away pleased. I like looking in my crystal ball in the black of night to watch them scream in agony. I like to experience their pain. 

A customer! They walk up to my stall—a young boy around thirteen. “Hello, do you have any crystals for sale? It’s a gift for my sister. She’s obsessed with diamonds and stuff. It’s not her birthday or anything, but she’s going to go on her first rock hunt tomorrow and I wanted to get her something. Not too expensive—like, twelve gold coins?” He glances awkwardly at his pocket, where there are quite surely twelve coins exactly in his pocket—remnants from his twenty gold in allowance, no doubt. 

“Ah, yes!” _Dang it, _I think. When one recieves my items as a _gift, _it offsets the malice. The gem even begins to respect them because they got it through an act of kindness! Unless…

I turned and scrabbled through the drawers filled with shiny stones. Some are fake, some are gliterring pebbles I found on the road, some are real with evil spells. And one of them is powerful enough to get past any friendly gift idea offsetting spells. 

I placed the heavy, large and genuine pearl on the counter. It captivated our eyes for a moment. the pure milky white swirling in with many other colours, swishing in and out of the light, cloudy hand-sized ball. 

At last, the boy speaks. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured. “Where did you find it?”

“That, my lad, is a very interesting story,” I begin. “When I was a young man, not much older than you, I set out on a journey, on a complete and sudden foolish whim to kill a dragon. I wanted to prove myself to the village, I suppose. To prove, perhaps, that I was more than some fishermen. 

“I stalked into the lair of the beast. It was a dark and foul cave,” I hissed in a low voice. The boy leaned in. “It smelled of sulfer. A more duisgusting, stinky stench you never smelled. But there, piled into chests was piles upon piles of gold. Gold, my boy! Jewels and precious necklaces of coral dotted the pure yellow circles that were piled into chests, casually overflowing and cascading in a still waterfall onto the stony, cold floor. Then…I heard it.” The boy’s eyes widened. “The claws of the beast! I turned as it scraped into the cave on his scaly feet. His scales, they were blood red, and his belly was the same yellow as his eyes. The eyes were cat eyes, child, but fiery and malicious. I stumbled back. The dragon’s long, shiny snout, with his nostrils wreathed in smoke, paced ever closer, dangerously. It saw me as a threat to it’s treasure. I pulled out my sword, hiding it behind me back. It lunged, and I stabbed it down the throat!” I yanked my pocket knife out of my belt and stabbed it on the wood table. The boy jumped back.

“But that wasn’t the end of it. I yanked out my sword and watched, triumphant, and the lizard screeched with a sound undescribable to ears who have not heard it. It waddled this way and that, wobbling on its feet. It’s head tossed side to side, and then it collapsed, its legs failing. And then,” I continued proudly, “I grabbed my blade and carved the heart out of the very beast!” The boy gasped. “As I heaved the big, pulsing red object into my arms, I noticed it was quite cool to the touch, and hard. It was then that I realized the dragon had never known emotion, because their heart was made of cold, stony ruby.” The boy let out another surprised cry. I went on. “Then I noticed a pulsing white light in the center of the ruby. I slammed my sword onto the heart and it cracked in two, revealing this very pearl… the true heart of the dragon.”

The boy took in a breath. “Wow, sir. You’ve really been places.”

“Aye,” I said. “Anyway, this stone is worth thirteen gold, due to the gross symbolism and the fact that dragons are quite common these days, but because I am slightly superstitious and a kind old man, I’ll lower the price to eleven gold.”

“Sold,” gasped the boy breathlessly. He practically threw the coins on the table to snatch up his prize. “Thank you so much! She’ll love it. And the story was great! In fact, here.” He tossed me his last gold coin. “I was saving it for a piece of candy, but the tale you wove was brilliant! I bet the village children would love it if you volunteered for the Storytime Hour every day. I’ll try to replicate the story to my sis, but I doubt I can master it as well as you!” He smiled and waved farewell as he set off through the busy market streets.

I smiled and leaned back in my chair. It was so relieving to get rid of that thing. Ever since I’d defeated the dragon it had given me strange nightmares and visions. I was excited to watch the pair fall victim to the stone in my ball because unlike the others, the wizard I’d brought it to was unable to decipher what it did. He could only tell me that it was evil enough to overcome any good, meek spell, like the gift counterspell. 

So yes. I could not wait to see what it would do to that boy and his sister. Whatever it was, I was hoping it would change them forever.

I bopped to the radio station LatestJams 104.0 as I drove along the road on my way home from work. It was a country highway and one of my favourites. Not many people, several miles from the nearest town, which was a well known city. Perfect for picking up hitchhikers and bringing them to my house for a little fun.

I spot my first catch. Two young teenage girls, smiling and sticking their thumbs in the direction of the city.

Smiling, I slow to a stop. One of my hands rests on the window button, the other gently strokes the tranquilizer in my pocket. “Hey ladies. Need a ride?”

“Thanks, sir. My name is Raven and this is Hailey.” The girls look at each other with a grin. Both get in the car and instantly burst out laughing.

“What the?…” these girls are plain wierd.

“Sorry…” Hailey gasps for breath. “We’re delusional. We ran out of water an hour ago and we’re kinda going crazy.”

“Ah,” I say. “Here, I can turn up the air conditioning if you want.” I lean forward, but instead of putting on the AC, I grab my tranquilizer gun. Whipping around, I’m about to shot them both when I see they both have a knife themselves and are about to try to get me.

“What the…” I tried to make sense of the situation. Clearly, the girls were in just as much surprise as me.

“Dude, what? Our targets aren’t supposed to have us as targets,” said Raven.

“Wait… you’re a hitchhiker killer? I’m a hitchhiker picker-upper kidnapper.” I said.

“Yeah,” said Raven. “We’re besties, and orphans. We take turns killing the driver and then pinning it on the other, then we claim the cash prizes for figuring it out. We always have a different identity so the police don’t catch us. After one is caught, the girl who turned the other in breaks her out of juvie. It’s our way of earning money.”

Their story is kinda sad, I can’t help but doing something about it. “What if I take you gals under my wing?” I suggest. “No sneaky business, promise. We can keep doing our thing, just not on each other.”

“Well…ok,” said Raven, glancing at Hailey. “Just no funny stuff. We’re killers, remember.”

“Not for much longer,” I said. “Now you’re with me, you don’t have to kill. Kidnapping is one thing, but murder is another. I’d rather have spouses who only kidnapped. You’ll find it’s a lot more harrowing when you realize how many lives you ended later.” I sighed. “Besides, I’m sorta like a mad scientist, too. I’ve found the recipe to a memory loss elixer. You’d like it.” I grinned at Raven and Hailey. “Ready to see my house?”

They nod and I take the first exit on the right, zooming towards my home.

What colour is that of a soul, really?

What determines whether a person is good or bad? Greedy or giving? Envying or proud?

Who even determines that one colour represents this or that?

Take yellow, for example. It represents happiness. Why? Why yellow? What about green, the colour of nature, with the dark, leafy treetops, to the bright green of the moss, with yellow underneath, or the cheerful green of the grass? Blue, so many shades of beauty, from the dark blue of the sky at night, not ever quite black and glittering with stars, to the azure and peacock and all the other colours of the sea, to the burbling blues and whites in the streams? Orange, a colour to paint into a gorgeous sunset, or to represent oranges, that wonderful fruit that is sweet and tangy, with the slight sting on your lips, like life defined from a tree? All of these are possible colours.

And even then, colours show many emotions. Green could be envy or a love for nature. Red could be for hate, it’s true, but what about all the wonderful things it colours? If we lived in a world with red as hate, roses, tomatoes, part of the classic Christmas colours would be hateful. Christmas hateful! Holly berries evil! Red is not the colour of hate. Blood can be spilled red, but red can also be attributed to cranberry juice, and sometimes wine, and strawberries. Are these not good?

Let us take on blue again. It means sad, yes? This is what humanity defines it as. But then, is the world sad? Does the sea mourn, is it salty because it wishes for better? Is the sky upset? Blueberries—do they taste of tears? Do running rivers flow to get away from something? No! They can all be sad, or vengeful (take tsunamis and thunderstorms) or happy, like a cheerful, bubbling brook in the day, or peacful, like a calm sea at susnet. They can be sweet, with the example of blueberries—perhaps picked on a summer day with a loved one, piled into wooden baskets and jostled around as you dash laughing out of the brambles, joyful words springing from your mouth as you enjoy your prize, warmed by the sun, on the grass.

Have I given enough examples? I ask you again— is it simply that one colour means one thing? Or are our colours more than meets the eye, like us? Am I going off on a tangent, rambling on and on and personifying everything, or am I onto something? I am open to debate. But it is my opinion that not even colours should be stuffed into human’s neat little boxes. One thing I cannot stand is boundaries. They say do one thing, but I wish to do the other. I am a girl, but I hate dolls, dresses, pink— but I love sports and have a weird addiction to balls. Are all these boundaries really healthy? Or are they nessesary, to keep everyone in their neat little boxes?

So back to the prompt— what are the colours of anyone’s soul? Everyone feels different things at all times. Everyone is sad, happy, angry, jealous, tranquil, excited, inspired…a whole mash of different colours. And though some think that a mash of those colours would be brown. But you know what colours are before they are colours? When they are rays of light still, zooming to earth as a ray from the sun? White, my friends. White.

So _that, _I have decided, is the colour of someone’s soul.

…

Got a little carried away, LOL 😂. Guess I was in the poetic mood. In any case, thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!

Anya stared in shock at the young girl. River, an assassin. A girl Anya’s age. Sent out to kill her, the princess, only to defy orders because the princess was her twin sister. The only thing she could whisper was: “How?” “I don’t know.” River looked down. “All I know is that I was raised my whole life by the society of spies and assassins for the other side of the war. I only learned of my parents a few weeks ago. I only know we were separated when we were very young, perhaps two. I don’t know why or if the king is even our father or of the late queen was our mother. I don’t know if the two people who raised me are our parents.” “So what now?” Anya asked. “You say you are not going to kill me, but that will ultimately kill you. The spies and assassins you worked for will turn on you once they recognize your betrayal.” River stared back at her with those chilling blue eyes, so unlike Anya’s brown ones. “I am not about to kill the only family I know I have.” “I refuse to let you risk your life for me!” Anya whispered loudly. River shot a look at the door. “Keep it down, will you? Listen, tomorrow morning tell the king you were attacked by the assassin in the dead of night. Tell them you fought them off, stealing their dagger and killing them one-on-one.” She drizzled something over then tossed Anya the dagger she’d been sharpening. It was now tipped with a dark red substance. “A mixture of corn syrup and red food colouring,” explained River. “Take it. Tell them you shoved the body out the window and it fell from the cliffs into the water of the river beneath your room’s window.” Rider pulled out another vial of the liquid on the blade and dripped it around, creating what looked like a veritable battle scene. She shot another look at Anya. “I’ll come back tomorrow. That is, if you want me to come.” “But—But—why convince the king and the guards and everyone that you’re dead? And where are you going? Of course I want you to come back, but why leave now? Why do you want to come back?” “That’s a lot of questions,” grinned River. “About me looking to be dead? Well, if you think about it, the king will get more and more anxious about the assassin lurking in his castle. Everyone important, including you, will be practically surrounded by guards all the time. So, if I appear dead, he relaxes a bit, enough so that I can start seeing you again every night without having to be cautious about the guards. “As for question two, I’m not sure where I’ll go. Probably I’ll head into the town not far from here and snatch some food. I can’t be stealing from the castle when I’m dead, can I? For question three, it’s almost dawn and your maid will be coming in soon. I can’t let her catch me. Finally, question four… well, you’re my sister. I want to get to know you better.” She smirked at Anya before slipping out the window. “I’m sure we can get to know each other before we start driving us crazy.” Then she was gone. Anya ran over to her window and peered out. River was rapidly climbing down the steep walls of the castle. Anya settled back in her bed and smiled to herself. A twin sister in the form of an assassin… she wondered what on earth was to come next.

Anya yawned and stretched. Another day in the middle of a war, another boring day as the princess. She swung her legs out of her huge canopy bed. A maid rushed over to tend to her needs. “Do you wish for anything?” “Yes. A glass of water, if you please.” As the maid rushed off to grab the water, leaving Anya to get dressed, Anya hopped out of bed and wandered over to her closet door. Opening it, she pulled out a dress that was not as frilly as the others. She pulled it on and walked over to her vanity, brushing her hair and applying lipstick. The maid came back. “Here you are, princess. And your father has asked that you wear your new dress.” “Ugh.” Anya went back to her closet and grabbed her least favorite dress, a new pink one her father has bought for her. It was eyeball catching, with purple highlights and white lace, poofy sleeves, ruffles and a corset. She despised it. “Why must I wear this?” She complained after coming out of the closet, all dressed. “Your father is holding a convention of lords and ladies to speak about the war effort.” The maid pursed her lips. It was not right to speak against the king, or the princess, or question their orders, so Anya couldn’t tell which side the maid was on— her side, or her fathers side. But there would be no arguing with her father, especially today. Even if she was going to be forced to sit through a long, boring convention in a tight, itchy and heavy dress. She couldn’t afford to take his attention off the war, even if it was rather tedious. And so, that was how a few hours later she found herself sitting at the officially most boring meeting ever held and in the most uncomfortable dress ever created. The leaders of the towns and cities of her father’s domain were huddled over a map and talking. The map was of the battle zones, and they were talking about war stragtegies. “But maybe we can push him back here, a sneak attack here,” suggested the town leader of Folhelm. “No, no. They would spot us. See here? There’s another camp here,” countered the leader of Gangeo. “I guess. But what about here?” Anya sighed and tried not to slump. When would this be over? “Sir! Sir!” A solider dashed into the room. “Your majesty!” “Yes?” The king looked up. “Devan? What are you doing in here? You are on watch duty.” “We captured an intruder, sir. An assassin. She won’t say anything but she sure is an assassin.” “Silence,” said the king, quieting the murmurs that swept the room. He turned back to Devan. “Bring them in.” “Very well.” Devan opened the door and two guards trooped in, holding a small, hooded figure in between them. The guards threw back the hood to reveal a young face with shockingly blue eyes, wide in fear. The king sat forward. “What is this?” He asked. “You said there was an assassin. That child is an innocent civilian, I would bet anything.” Anya nodded. The girl, who looked about her age, was clearly not in the murdering business. “It’s true, your majesty,” said the girl in a small and scared voice. “I have no intention of murder.” “It’s settled. Show her to the interrogation rooms if she has something to tell me, or the door if she does not.” The king raised his hand to be dismissed, but— “Sir, wait.” It was Devan. “We found something on her that you might like to see.” The king leaned back. “Yes? Show away.” “It was this. Hidden in her boot.” The solider pulled a knife out of the girl’s boot. It was glitteringly sharp and the tip was dipped in what looked to be black ink. “This is a very sharp blade, sir,” the solider went on. “And very dangerous, too. The end is coated in a deadly poison. This is not the blade of a child passed on by her mother in a wish to defend herself. This here is the work of a deadly predator.” All was silent. Everyone looked in shock at first the solider, then the girl, who was staring at the floor. Finally, the girl looked up. Her blue eyes, now free of any fear, startled everyone yet again. “Caught me,” she said in a singsong voice. She no longer looked a scared little child. She looked capable of anything. “Now, let’s play a little game,” she continued, her voice sharp and carefree. “You searched only my first boot, so you left me some toys. Now…first you see me…” She looked straight at Anya. The princess jolted as she looked into those electric eyes, knowing in that moment who the girl’s target was. “Now,” continued the assassin softly, “You don’t.” The next things that happened were so sudden it took Anya’s brain a moment to catch up. Devan yelled, a small explosion of smoke came from the little group of guards and the assassin, and there was a small pattering of feet away. Anya felt something land on her lap, hidden in the folds of her corset. She looked down, then back up at where the commotion was stopping. The smoke had cleared. The girl was gone. And the guards, including Devan, were all slit in the throat. Devan’s hand was open, but it looked as though he had been clutching something. Then Anya remembered. She sucked in a breath, frantically glancing at the floor around the dead guards. There was no doubt about it. The knife and the assassin were gone, and she was in danger.

…

That night, Anya lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. Her four-poster covers kept her concealed from the rest of the world, but she knew even this and the two guards outside her door were not enough to calm her nerves. After seeing what had happened earlier, she was still shaken. Even the patrol sent around the castle searching 24/7 for the assassin wasn’t enough.
She sighed. One o clock in the morning and she hadn’t gotten a wink. She swung her legs out of bed and reached for the curtains of the bed. She should probably get some water.
Naturally, it gave her a heart attack when she saw the assassin sitting on the chair by her bed, sharpening her knife quietly and casually. She let out a squeaking sound. She wasn’t sure where it had come from, but it was probably just her trying to ask a question.
In any case, the girl looked up. She was unsurprised. “Hello, princess.”
“H-how did you get in here?” Anya’s voice finally returned.
“An assassin has her secrets. Those that she tries to generally keep from targets.” The girl looked back down at her knife. Anya opened her mouth, with half a mind to call her guards.
The assassin glanced up, guessing her motive. “Don’t try it. By the time they react you’ll be dead and when they open the door I’ll be gone.”
“Isn’t that your intention after all?” Anya asked. “Why wait to kill me?”
“My dear princess,” smirked the assassin. “It was just by my orders that I’m here at the castle. That means not that I will follow them. I brought false expectations to my boss, you could say.”
“So you’re not an assassin?” Anya asked. 
“Nope, I’m most certainly an assassin. This blade has killed many upon my own doing, and purposefully. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to kill you.” The assassin glanced at the door. “After all, we are linked souls. I did some digging when I heard you were my next target. It’s what I do often. What I found surprised me. I will not harm those of my own blood.”
“What do you mean?” Anya asked, curious in spite of herself.
All act of sharpening the knife gone, the girl stared out the window. “You know, family.”
She looked up at Anya, her blue eyes peircing the princess’s for the second time. 
“My name is River, Anya, and I am your twin sister.”

Matt scanned the misty, Irish seascape, his mood getting darker with every second. Where was that assasin? His boss should have known better than to hire HER. This was real life war, and she was just a mere child. Ok, she was thirteen. But still. Finally, a figure appeared, jogging towards him with impeccable ease. At last! Glaring at the ninja-clad figure, named River, that trotted up to a stop in front of him, shocking blue eyes piercing his soul joyfully, as if she knew she was late and was proud of it. “You’re late, agent,” Matt noted grumpily, an obvious point. “I am,” River responded. “Well, report,” he sighed. “The victim has been dealt with.” “And?” “Kai is dead.” “What?” The master spy that had gone with River on their mission— dead? “How?” “Enemy blade. He got caught. I escaped.” “Well, you have a new mission. The princess.” River’s eyes widened. “The princess? Why?” “Grubby urchins like you aren’t concerned it the matter. Do you job.” “Ok.” River shrugged and turned to walk away. “And Agent?” She turned. “You’re walking on thin ice,” he said softly. “Stop disobeying orders, Agent. Get the job done.” “Of course.” Chewing a wad of gum, Matt turned to walk away. Shaking his head, he thought about how River was such a good agent, if she just had some direction. That was when the arrow pierced his neck. He slumped over, dead at once. A figure appeared out of the mist, placing a foot on Matt’s body. Yanking the arrow out, they turned and looked seaward. Pulling some more gum out of Matt’s pocket, they popped it in their mouth, turned, and started walking away, in the direction of the palace. They were River.

I stumbled exhausted through the growing inches of snow. Man! I was grateful I’d brought proper gear, because instead of just cold to the bone, lost in the woods with no food, I’d have been dead in the woods instead. Hm. Actually, I’d rather be dead than where I am right now. My breath, mist in the freezing air, accompanies several crystals of ice on their drifting journey down from the gloomy white cotton candy clouds in the sky to the thick white blanket of their peers already on the ground. I watch them in envy for a minute— at least they are with other of their kind, unlike me, too stubborn to remember the number one rule of hiking, that being to always bring a friend. Then I stumble on, anything to keep me off the subject of my own stupidity. My hands, face and toes are cold and the rest of me hot as I stumble on once more, up a hill. Why did I get lost? Why did I even do this anyway? Why didn’t I charge my phone?? As I push up the hill, I become faintly aware of a glowing yellow light. I ignore it at first, thinking it’s probably just the sunset. I push that thought away, because I do not want to be lost with the wolves in the freezing cold forest. Luckily, as I reach the top of the hill I realize I have been spared after all. A cosy little cottage is in front of me, covered in snow. Windows invite me to catch a glimpse of a modern living room, modern yet rustic with a nice warm roaring fireplace. Books line the walls and above the fireplace is a tv connected to an Xbox. The thing that really catches me is the fact it’s on. Rushing up to the front door with all my draining energy, I knocked. The sound of someone walking to answer me is music to my ears, the sweetest sound on earth. I collapse on the doorstep, waiting, my cheeks red and freezing. The door opens, and a rush of warm, sweet air brushes my cheeks. I let out a happy sigh as relief sweeps over me. Looking up to see my host, I brace myself to beg my hopefully host for mercy. It’s a girl. Quite short. She rolls her eyes at the sight of me, sighs, and holds out her hand to help me up. As she leads me into a coat hall, I looks around curiously. She shuts the door behind her and points to the coat hanger and boot tray. “Go on, take your stuff off.” Her voice is quiet but holds a lot of assertance. I take my stuff off. Interesting. There is only shoes for one person, but there is enough space for more people. It didn’t look like anyone had left the cabin, though. The girl gestures to the kitchen. She sits me down on a couch in the living room and gives me a warm blanket and tissues for my dripping nose. As I warm up, I hear a whistling sound and a few minutes later she’s back with hot chocolate. Handing it to me, she sits down, and a dog that was lying on the carpet trots up to her. It’s a small but cute one, a cocker spaniel I think. She lifts it up to her lap and sits there for a while absentmindedly watching the fire and stroking her dog. I sip my hot chocolate. It’s warming and sweet with a chocolatey taste. Breathing in the sweet-smelling steam, I ponder about what would a girl this size be doing alone in the woods? She clearly wasn’t a child. “Are you a midget?” I finally blurt out, my big mouth rudely interrupting the silence. It’s the only logical conclusion I can come up with. “No.” She gives me a look. Just like the streak in her blond hair with brown her eyes are blue and framed with rectangular purple glasses. “I’m not a midget.” She has a voice like a child’s. So I guess that answers the question. “Why did you move out here?” “Someone had to, to give those lost to the point of no return hope. You will find me no matter where you live, waiting for someone lost forever to stumble to my door. They always do.” “Lost forever?” I gape. “Not anymore.” The girl stands up, much to the disappointment of her dog, who hops down and walks over to the fire. She goes into the kitchen and comes back with a map. Showing it to me, I see it’s a path that leads you from there to the nearest town. It’s not that far, which explains how she got the hot chocolate. “Oh. Thanks.” I accept it and she has me stand up. All my gear has dried off. I put it on, and looking outside I see it’s dark. “How about you wait till morning,” the girl suggests. I agree and she leads me to a guest bedroom. I settle down for the night. The next morning, I wake up. All is quiet. I creep out of my room and slip into the kitchen. But the girl is already there, sitting on a stool by the island and sipping more hot chocolate. I never changed out of my clothes, so I’m already ready. The girl gesture to a bag sitting on the counter. It’s my bag. “Packed some supplies for you, I think its time you left.” She hands me the bag and I take it without complaint. Putting it on, I walk out the door and wave farewell to her. Turning, I realize something, “Wait! I never got your name!” I turn back to the cottage, but it’s gone. Looking down at the map, I see that in the place of the cabin on the map is instead a mini picture of me. The map…the cabin…it’s too much, especially when I see a bunch of lines appear glowing in front of me to light the way to town. I run and never look back, especially when I reach the end of the forest. But when I reach my house, I can’t help but turn back. It’s crazy. The cabin is far off in the distance. But I keep hoping to see it. Why? I don’t know. But I’ll never forget the girl, cabin and dog who saved my life.

A girl. A boy. In a downpour. Both with umbrellas. The girl’s umbrella flew away. The boy saw and offered her his. They accidentally brushed hands as she stepped under the cover from the rain. Looking at each other, startled, they smiled nervously. It was the start of something.

A tense whisper echoed in the dimly lit alley. “We need to get out of here, now!”

The speaker was Jessica Aynes, a sixteen year old girl who was sick and tired of being prodded and poked at, studied for ten years of her life. She was one of the rare people who had magical powers— chikamago, if she remembered the term right. She recalled the day she was taken away quite well. She was sitting in the front yard in front of her and her parents’ little cottage. Her father was doing repairs in the backyard, where she usually played. Her mother was keeping a slight eye on her through the window in the kitchen. No one was worried about her. It was a safe neighborhood. No one would hurt a little six-year-old girl playing with her dolls.

She vaguely recalled her young self levitating a doll up, pretending she was a queen, when a carriage carrying a royal minister rode past. He gawped at her through the window and alerted the gaurds. Her mother had ran out the door, crying, to ask in horror why they were taking her daughter. She remembered the minister responding in a gruff voice: “She’s Magic, a Rare One. We need to study people like that. This is a rare opportunity. She won’t be lonely, there’s about five others her age in the lab.” Jessica remembered wondering what Rare Ones were as she was hoisted up into the carriage. She didn’t know why her mother was crying, but she felt excited.

Jessica shook the memory off. It wouldn’t help now. She looked around at her friends, all the same kids the minister had mentioned. There was Josie, the sweet younger girl who had arrived just recently at the labs, scaredy cat Avery who only agreed to try to escape the labs because he didn’t want to be the only one left, brainy Benjamin, who was the one who had devised the plan for escaping, hair-obsessed Penelope who just couldn’t bear having one more day without a good hair spray and lipstick, and mischievous Jonas who was the one let the skunk out (where he’d got it from, Jessica had no idea) to get rid of the guards.

But now the guards were catching up, and they had to leave.

“Why don’t we get to the woods?” Benjamin suggested. “The guards are afraid of it. They say there are rabid monsters in there.”

“There is?” Penelope gulped. Avery’s eyes grew as big as golf balls and only managed to peep, “I hope not!”

“Nah,” said Jonas. “Once, when I had been in trouble, a few nights before now, they put a collar on me and sent me out into the woods in the middle of the night. The collar kept me from going past the fence. There was nothing out there but some skunks and the usual rabbits and deer and fox. It really wasn’t that bad! The guards are all scardy cats.”

Guess that explains the skunk, Jessica thought. “Well, I guess we should go now, whatever we do.” The guard boots were drawing ever closer.

“You’re right,” said Benjamin. He tapped along the wall, humming.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for a loose board. It would take to long to get over the traditional way, even with rope.” He pushed lightly at a board, and it wobbled. Carefully, he pulled it back. Old nails creaked and popped free. Ushering them all through the hole, he went in last and pulled the board back into place as the guards rounded the corner.

They looked around. All was black, except for the night sky and the small illumination coming from beyond the fence from the lab. They were alone in the woods.

“I… I love you, Hal. I will always love you. I loved you ever since I met you.” Hallie, sitting on the boardwalk beside Madison, looked up. “I can’t believe that the feeling is mutual…” she smiled sweetly. “I love you too, Madison.” “So what happens now? The Captial will never accept us, and we’ll be forced to marry boys we don’t care about.” Madison looked sadly at the water shimmering below them, glowing with the moonlight. She’d hoped to acheive something with her confession. Now the words had left her mouth. She no longer felt like she was holding in a growing tide, always pushing and splashing against the sides when she was with Hallie, but in releasing it, she was drowning in the worry someone would find out, and she would be condemned for loving a girl. There was silence. Then Hallie said, “I haven’t been completely honest with you about my heritage, Maddy. I know a way for us to be together… if you can bound old wounds.” “Wh-what do you mean?” Madison’s heart beat faster, both panicked and hopeful at once. “I’m part of rebellion 13. If we succeed in our mission, equity will happen for both genders, and we can be together, forever. But… we have to overthrow the emperor. And I’ve stolen things, Maddy. I want you to know that. But it was small stuff- I promise. Just food.” Madison was more focused about the first thing that came out of Hallie’s mouth. She stood up suddenly, her chest exploding. Weeks of trust and love for Hal built up now crashed down, the rubble leaving her with only mistrust. Clenching her fists, she struggled to push her next words out. “I can’t believe you just said that, Hallie. Really? After all we’ve been through? Now you spring this on me?? I thought you would… I can’t forgive your stupid rebels. They killed my mom. They killed my sister. The emperor didn’t. That’s why.” Hot, furious tears clouding her vision, she turned on her heel and started to walk away. “Maddy, wait! Please!” Madison took a few more steps before turning. “What.” “I’m sorry! Please let me explain.” “Um, sure, but it won’t change anything. Maybe if you’re lucky I won’t turn you in.” “Maddy, the rebellion that your mother and sister were killed was not ours. That was rebellion 12.” “So?” “So we’re different people with different motives and different methods of getting to the public, ways that don’t include murder. Listen, Madison. We don’t kill. And it’s not like the emperor didn’t anything to help you when the murder happened.” “I don’t know if I can trust you.” Madison wanted to run, but her legs were too weak. She just wanted to crash to the ground and cry. She looked up at Hallie. “I want to trust you. But I can’t.” “Hey, it’s okay.” Hallie saw Madison crying and held out her arms. Knowing she shouldn’t, Madison couldn’t help but collapse on the ground and let Hallie wrap her arms around her. Hallie gently stroked her hair, and Madison let herself relax into Hal’s hug. “Please, trust me,” Hallie whispered, a plead. Madison looked at her, and she looked back. “I’ll try,” she whispered back. “I’ll join the rebellion and see if I can.” Hallie leaned in close and her lips brushed Madison’s, just a bit. Madison’s eyes grew wide and she blushed. Hallie leaned back. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.” She smiled mischivously. “Let me introduce you to the others.”