The eager child ran through the streets, holding on to his cap lest it get blown away by the fierce west wind. It was happening! It was true!

Crowds of people began to thicken as he neared his viewpoint at the top of a tall building. Huffing and puffing, he ran up the steps. Finally! Smiling, he went to the edge of the gated rooftop and gazed into the massive expanse of the sky.

People were counting down. He could hear them shout below, next to him, everywhere. And as they finished, other, more excited voices began to fill streets. There it was!

The little boy watched in true astonishment and awe as the gigantic spaceship flew overhead and landed with a gentle thump on the ground. Suddenly, he felt magnetically attached to that space, and he ran as fast as he could: down the steps, jostling the crowd, jumping over the cobblestone streets. All that mattered now was HIM.

He feared he was too late, but he just got there in time to see the hatchet open up. Out walked what could only be described as otherworldly, literally. Three funny people clearly from other places in “the beyond”, as they referred to the great space. But where was he?

And then out walked the man from earth that everyone, but most of all the child, had been waiting for. Engulfed by sudden emotion, he ran forth towards the man he called father.

“Yes. I’ve told you this more than once.” “You didn’t give me a chance to-“ “Did I not tell you about second chances? As if you’re 7 years old, my gosh.” “Don’t you realize, though-“ “Do not speak unless I tell you! Now, all niceties aside, we shall begin. I see you’re raising your hand. Good. What would u like to say? And if it has anything to do with backing out, I’m sorry, there’s nothing that I can or will do, so save your breath for some other time when you’ll need it. Otherwise, speak.” “All I wanted to say was this: I surely accept the mission. It will be great for my record. However, the training necessary to attend this trip was not given to me. An-“ “Do you mean to imply the lessons I have been giving you, day after day, week after week, month after month, are not enough? I can’t see what you’re holding over there.” “It’s a manual .” “Hand it to me. Ah, so THIS is where you have been getting your information from. How many times have I told you not to take manual books from the library, whether or not you think it has MEANING???” “I am sorry, Master. I just thought our plan was to follow it, and- What’s wrong? Master, is everything ok? Wh-why, you look pale as a ghost. Pardon me saying so…” “No, no. It can’t be. It can’t be.” “What can’t be?” “Don’t touch it! It must be…” “What?” “Silence! It has to be. Yes… Do you know what this even is? The significance??” “It’s an instruction booklet.” “More than just that! I believe you have stumbled upon a relic of the great Master of Lands, Donomy Soto, the ancient patriarch of modern magical society we have today. This not just any plain old silly manual the school wishes to have in the reference section in the library. Look on this page, over here.” “What?! Is that-is it-“ “It is exactly what you think it is: the mark of the First Wizard Guild.” “Can-can we use it?” “That, my student, is a question only one man can answer: me. But first, you must prove yourself on this mission. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes!” “Alright then, move along and get going. And no need for that silly salute.”

Hmmm…..even the notes themselves are chicken scratch, not to mention the title. I look out among the people: man, woman, child, and in some cases dog. I clear my throat and decide on a few choice words to begin a speech that hopefully will not end in my slaughter by thousands of angry villagers.

To be clear, I have no idea where I am. I ended up in this 1800’s-like village by accident, and honestly, who would want to come here on purpose? I miss the tech boom of the 2080’s already, where my device would immediately see my predicament and produce an immaculate lecture, even for these primitives, leaving them with the best truth of their lives. Instead, I am currently standing on a box about 2 feet tall, staring into thousands of steely-eyes Viking rednecks in the middle of who knows where. Well, seeing as no sudden epiphany of knowledge is coming, I have but one choice.

“Gentlemen,” I begin. And immediately realize it may not have been the best way to start. These are not gentlemen. They are-are….“Warriors!” I thunder, looking around. Aha! That is it! Good. One word down, A LOT to go. “You are strong as the mightiest giant! As brave as King David facing Goliath! And-“ I search for one more simile. “Fearless as a mountain lion! But….why do we battle each other? Why is it that we, as humans, the most intelligent and ruler of species of all the world, kill each other out? Why must we pit one against the other, man vs man, in a world already so dangerous made by-by creatures of the forest?” The words are tumbling out now; whatever I say next, it is not my choice anymore. “And thus, I implore of all you: put down the spear! Throw away your bow and arrows! And treat your fellow man like you would yourself!” I breathe heavily looking around. And then, as one, they all begin to clap. I step down. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

So there I was. In bed. My mind making a valiant effort to help my body get up (“you’re gonna be late, you know Boss hates that, especially if he didn’t have his coffee this morning….), and the rest of me just refusing (yawn). Eventually my eyes began to close of their own accord, despite the rational part of me desperately seeking escape from the comforts of sleep (“the bus stop is just two feet away!”) when my alarm, currently on snooze, began clanging its horrible cheery wake-up tune, obviously designed in such a way that causes it to have a special place of hate for most people, especially those poor souls like me. I jolted awake, heart racing, like when you trip and begin to fall down in your dream and suddenly waken. Finally, after regaining full consciousness and convinced I’m not having a heart attack, I finally begin, with a groan, to roll out of bed, my whole body protesting every inch of the way. But, then again, I’m already used to it. After all, it’s a Monday like any other.

I rush to the pantry for my quick caffeine-fix savior: coffee. Shoot. Why? Why today of all days? No more coffee pods or instant brew or stuff. And because I’m running late, this means only one thing: I must teleport to the coffee shop!

Well, if only. That would really help matters. Then again, if I had that power, a lot of things would be different. For example, I could have stayed in bed longer.

When I arrive at the coffee shop, breathless and jelly-legged, I look down at my watch. 8:57 am. Yikes! But still, as I enter the shop I know I made the right decision. The aroma here is worth more than my salary, and the coffee? Forget about it.

I place my order and sit down at an empty booth, hoping the staff behind the counter don’t work at their normal pace, which is roughly the amount of time it takes for Boss to finish one of his “You’re late! And you haven’t even finished….I was waiting…..blah blah blah” speeches. I smile grimly, picturing my good friend and coworker hunching behind his cubicle, snickering as he sticks a piece of tape over his mouth and pointing to Boss. I clearly have very mature coworkers. Sigh.

And that’s when I realize I am truly going crazy. What Im seeing cannot be real. Either my senses and rational mind were rebelling against me or I was beginning to hallucinate, neither of which I am too excited about.

BOSS?? Now? In the coffee shop??? What is he doing here at-I steal a glance at my watch-9:07 am, the summit of Boss’s day, the time where he yells at everyone and gets the ol’ tired workforce running on its 2 cent rusty wheels. He’s missing out on work, his favorite time! And most shocking of all-I rubbed my eyes as the scene revealed itself before me to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, which, at this point, wasn’t really all that far-fetched- he was walking toward me….with a SMILE!!!! As if he was happy to see me here at this time. That’s when I was struck by a particularly surprising, but maybe not all that shocking, thought, considering what was happening in my weird life so far.

I try to make myself as small as possible, which is not an easy task; my scale can attest to that. I hope he’s headed for the person behind me, the drink machine on my left, ANYTHING! I try to avoid Boss on a regular day as much as possible; but when he has a smile?? That’s even scarier!

But, alas, to my unlucky fortunes, the grinning man slides onto the bench across from me. “Good morning!” His normally monotonous voice sounds as if he had injected helium and caffeine into it: I’ve never heard him sound so joyful and high-pitched before. “Well?” He asks in his unnaturally excited voice. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” He shoves a newspaper into my lap, nearly knocking over my half-finished iced vanilla. I look down at the headline. No way. Absolutely not. Can’t be. I will myself to think of what this means, and I feel a surging of what I think is hope (with a healthy dose of skepticism, of course). My life would be completely changed! I look up into the shining eyes of Boss. “C-congratulations o-on your new job,” I manage to stammer. And while he regales me with HIS new boss, how wonderful his life is going to be, how much money he’ll make, my mind is miles away. I’m not focused on Boss position change at all; no. I’m more focused on the result: a change of managers. And who was next in line, I think with increasing excitement. “…..and then we’ll all be happy!” He looks at me expectantly. I echo his feelings. “Good for you! I wish you only good fortune and success in your new job! We’ll really miss you here”-I add in, looking away so as not to meet his eyes-“but I’m sure we’ll get over it!” He beams at me, a rare occurrence, and walks out the door. There she is! My savior has just walked in! “Sheila, did u hear the news? Boss has left the company? Do you know what this means?” I am hugging her now, completely oblivious to all the stares and her confused look. “You are! You’re assistant manager, and thus inherit said vacant position,” I explain, assuming the role of professor temporarily. “But….why didn’t I hear about this before?” she asks reasonably. Oh Sheila. Always thinking logically. “Uh, hello? Since when has ex-Boss EVER told us about things like vacations and off-days in advance? NEVER, that’s when!” I finish emphatically. “And now you”-I point at her -“are taking over. Which means….” She looks at me with dawning comprehension. “……normal schedules, deadlines, breaks, and especially salaries!” This time she hugs me, and it’s for real. Aside from a normal boss, Sheila is my best friend, and we can finally have a normal, functional company without having to look elsewhere in this tiny isolated country town, which is a lot more than can be said for most. I am truly happy. She was my idol, and now my savior.

The day it happened, deep down, he knew, It may never come, the forgiveness. True, He had asked, she had laughed, “Of course I do!” But then why was she suddenly nowhere to be found?

Just to be sure, he inquired once more: “I am really sorry. Is this behind us? No more?” “What do you mean? The incident with the door? Psh”, she said, “I’d forgotten it already.”

But, he wondered, as he walked back home, As with a hand he wiped sweat off his balding dome, Why did she suddenly seem so alone, As if a stranger was standing there instead of me??

When one says “I forgive!”, does one really mean, To say: “Sure! But inside, it still hurts me”? “Forgive and forget”; what does it really mean???

“…..Hunt down the traitors, and bring them back to me alive,” the general hissed in a dangerously low voice. He looked at each of us in turn, boring holes with his razor sharp eyes to ensure his message had reached its destination. Finally, after a few uncomfortably quiet moments, he turned to the direction of his tent and left us there, shell-shocked from the highly crucial information we were now attempting to stomach. I stole a glance around at the rest of my young unit. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one having trouble digesting this time-bomb of an order. No, make that an ultimatum. Not only for the enemy, but us too. As in, fail or be remembered on shame by the country for the rest of your life.

Gradually, we recovered from our silent state and began moving numbly down toward our tents situated in the depths of the jungle. Night birds were out hunting now based on the noises issuing from the south. One cackled as it dove at an unsuspecting frog. If only we could be as lucky as that bird! I kicked a rock, and red ants scattered to safety.

I went over his words in my head, trying to remember them verbatim: “….there could be more of you like these trash cans of soldiers, that are traitors.” Yup. That would make for some peaceful rest tonight. “If you can catch these….these….” The general searched for the right noun for the deserters. “….Rats,” he finally said, “I will personally make sure each of you gets your dues for it. And trust me-“ at this he looked around at each of us, his favorite way to emphasize, “I can make that happen. More and better than what you can imagine.” Well, that was definitely true. He was the general, after all. It was becoming increasingly clear that he wanted these men. Badly. And who wouldn’t? Deserting the army was like ditching your best friend ina never-ending nightmare of violence. But to General, they were his soldiers that he could take pride in, his sacred way to protect his beloved country. This went on a much more personal note for him, in addition to his fierce protection and affection for his soldiers, as hidden as it may seem.

I feel like an ever growing pit of anger, my mind never satisfied with the amount of the toxic emotion it can fit into there.

I turn over on my side, more aggressively than a sleeping person would have. Why? Why is it that all this happens to ME? I have to be the one to deal with the worst class on the school, I have to be the one parents call up, yelling and cursing at me the whole way through, and I even have to step in to take care of some of the less capable teachers’ jobs! Who are they to think this is some institution where you can sit back watch the chaotic circus of classes unfold in brutal action? Who even hired them anyway?? Oh that’s right; the idiotic board that runs the school, the same one that decided to cut funding for the teachers in order to get a better building. It’s no coincidence that half of them now have brand new luxury cars or mansions???? I huff, punching my pillow in lieu of an actual punching bag.

A few minutes later, my heart is still racing, but I’m starting to calm down, and I realize that as harsh as it is life isn’t always fair. Besides I’ve gotten offered a potential position next year anyway in a respected school across town, so I’ll just stick it out. I roll over on my side and fall into a peaceful slumber.