We met in “the pits”, the holding area beneath the coliseum. He was Ephrates. I introduced myself as Laodice. We were surprised to find that we had lived near each other our whole lives, but never chanced to meet until we found ourselves here under different circumstances. Even more bizarre, neither of us knew how we arrived in this situation. The only points we could agree on were that we were on the paths to our homes one evening, were startled by a flurry of sounds and flashes, and found ourselves here. Our “guards” we covered in heavy leather and metal armor which obscured their faces and they did not deem it necessary to answer our questions. Finally, the gates opened and we were pushed into the arena. The crowd erupted. There were cheers and boos, but not in any tongue Ephrates or I were familiar with. Yet we knew that we were not in our ancestral home. In the large crowd were beings of all shapes and sizes, with skin the color of blue or red or green, or yellow and sometimes mixtures of the colors. My eyes, drawn to the crowd did not take in our other surroundings until Ephrates placed a hand upon my shoulder, staring up at a harsh angle. My gaze follows his and I understand now that we were not in fact in our homeland. In the sky above us, hanging like the moon but infinitely larger, was a heavenly body floating as if close enough to reach.

Gregor Samsa looks up at the vast sea of human-sized insects, barely making out their large carapacious bodies. He lifts an arm to block out the blinding lights of the stadium. The clicking, snuffling, hissing language of the crowds is deafening.

A voice (voice?) screams shrilly over a loudspeaker. The noise from the crowds dies down. A thick scraping noise is the only sound that can be heard for a minute or so. Then the crowd erupts once again in that strange clicking and howling and spitting.

Gregor stares down at his dirtied hands, his shredded shirt. He’s shaking.

The cage door lifts.

Gregor stares dumbly at the creatures in the stadium seats, three vital pieces of information slotting into place in his head:

1. The sounds he heard before are being made not just by a crowd, but by an audience.

2. There is an armored, beetle-like creature standing (standing?) before him, beating a a stick of metal against a curved, metallic surface.

3. He is going to die.

He is going to die, in this strange arena, filled with strange people (people?), who sound very, very excited to watch him get torn apart.

The three of us just wanted an escape from our normal boring lives. There was Henry, he was an office assistant. His life consisted of fetching coffees. There was Benni, he is a high school student who was top of all his classes. Then there was me the street rat who lived from shelter to shelter. Little did the three of us know that the escape we wanted would come in the form of a letter offering a vacation in paradise. That vacation turned out to be a trip outside of our solar system and sold to pirates. We were preparing for a competition. They wanted us to fight or something, I’m not exactly sure. As we stepped into the arena, we could the crowd screaming but it wasn’t in a language we could understand. “What do think they are saying?” Benni asked us. “Probably something like ‘kill’ or ‘die.’ My understanding is they want us to fight.” I responded. “What do they want us to fight?” Henry asked with a look of fear. “Whatever it is as long as we’re not fighting each other.” I said. We stopped talking as a loud bang sounded in the arena. Another bang sounded as the rolled open a huge door on the other side of the arena. Through the open door entered a huge ugly monster. It was a dull green, about seven feet tall, and covered in a snot like slime. “I guess we know what it is we are fighting.” I stated.

The strange mixes of languages boomed through the air, sending chills down Asha’s spine. She could smell the blood, and see it where innocent victims had been killed.

Ira grunted and flicked his tail. He tightened his grip on his diamond daggers and looked around fiercely. He licked his lips at the smell of blood, and the taste of flesh.

It was animal vs. human, but like no other. Animals had grown in intelligence, and now were smart enough to speak and walk like humans.

Asha finally realized why she could not understand the language, though she had studied almost every kind, it was because it was the unique animal language.

Fox and Eagle held onto each other tightly, praying both Asha and Ira would make it through the battle. Eagle cawed to Ira for support, while Fox spoke smoothly in English. “It’s gonna be fine, Asha, you will make it, remember, just look to us for support.” Asha nodded and felt strength bore into her soul.

“Let the battle begin!” Exclaimed a young man with a scar over his left eye. Asha took a deep breath and ran towards Ira, holding her sword in-front of her, ready to slice Ira.

Ira dodged Asha’s attack with grace, and danced around her, his daggers above his head. He growled playfully as they continued to fight and yell in anger.

Right as Asha was about to be sliced in the head, Fox took a deep breath and smiled sadly at Eagle. “I’m sorry.” She about cried as she jumped into the arena, taking a hard blow from Ira. “No!” Screamed Asha and Eagle.

Eagle flew over to Fox and bawled. Fox’s head was bleeding and she took slow, labored breaths. Her eyes glazed over as she held Eagle’s chin in her paw. “I-I love you, Eagle.”

She breathed what they thought was her last breaths when Ira appeared with the Light of Life in his paw. “This might help her.” He purred. Asha was surprised by Ira’s act of kindness, but gladly took the light and placed it on Fox’s forehead.

A beam of light radiated from Fox, and she slowly opened her eyes. Eagle laughed with joy and hugged Fox tightly, which soon turned into a passionate kiss.

Asha and Ira smiled at their two friends, and then remembered that they were both fighting to the death. The crowd erupted with cheers for Fox and Eagle, and Asha found herself holding Ira’s big, furry paw.

“Thank you, Asha.” Ira said, flicking his tail. “For what?” Asha asked. Ira grinned at her, “for showing me the true meaning of friendship.”

The End

As I step into the arena, I begin to hear the crowd screaming in a language I can’t understand. Once in a while I can pick out names in amidst shouting. “…Yuri… Pak Yan…” “Daniel, Daniel, Daniel!” “….Amira!” The last one churns my empty stomach as I can’t stop myself from wondering what these aliens are chanting about me. Fear paralyzes me so suddenly that my “mulatto” guard walks right into my back. He grips my shoulder viciously with his mutant hand, an ugly pale thing with green and blue streaks invading the pigmentation. He shoves me forward into the circular space. Rage fills my chest so suddenly upon seeing his hand. He’s half human. I’m fully human. Therefore we are both discriminated enemies of this alien race. I can’t believe he would let himself be organized into this job, just because of his DNA. Across the arena, about 200 yards, Pak Yan stumbles into the sunlight. I can’t get a good look at him, though, because just as I spot him, a foot-long beetle zips right up in my face. I nearly gasp, but along its side I notice a screen with my startled face on it. It’s no beetle; it’s a camera. The mega jumbotrons at the top of the crowd seating display my face beside Pak Yan’s before switching to footage of my pregame interview. Alien text is displayed at the top of the screen, and I assume it must have been the question they had asked me: “What are you most looking forward to in the battle?” They edited out my scoff. “Seeing other humans,” I had replied. The mulattos had kept us competitors separate for several days prior to the “battle”, so I really had been fed up with the hideous lizard-like faces of the aliens. I look passed the camera to the other dark arches. I can now make out the figures of Daniel, Yuri, and Emma. I start to get so dizzy all of a sudden that I drift to the center of the arena without even taking in anything around me. The mulattos stand us all in a tight circle, back to back, as all the trapdoors in the ground begin to open. Any moment, gargantuan alien creatures will leap out and we’ll have to fight until either they’re all dead, or we are. The mulattos leave us there and for a moment I’m sure that’s the end of me, but then the mentors come running out of our arches. Mine, Risba, makes it here before the others and puts his green hands on my shoulders. His face is remarkable for an alien, not stretched and gaunt like the others, but full and kind. He touches his forehead to mine. “Amira,” he whispers in that thick accent, “there’s something I never told you.” His tone is full of dread and sadness. “The game… it’s rigged against you.” My heart is threatening to hammer its way right out of my chest. “What do you mean?” “You know each competitor is taught one of the five skills to fight in the arena?” “Yeah.” “Well.” He pauses for just a moment, closing his eyes. “Your skill has too many wins. The betting has to be profitable.” Tears prick my eyes. “So you’re saying-“ I never get to finish, though, because foreign words call the mentors back. I look back at all the competitors: terrified children who will never graduate high school. My hands start to shake. “I can’t do this,” Emma mumbles. “We can all do this,” Pak Yan says. A red circle comes up on the jumbotron and a big orchestral fanfare blares through the arena. A tenth of the circle disappears. And then another. And another. The whole thing really makes me miss pizza, if I’m being honest. Finally, the last slice is eaten and the nauseating sound of grinding gears replacing the music—the creatures coming up in the lifts.

(In the same universe as Evaporation)

Pippa groans as her hazy mind clears.

She opens her eyes, and expects to see something. Anything. Instead, darkness still.

Not all her senses are off. She can hear loud cheering, almost as if she were near a football game or something like that. Her fingers grasp around, and she finds that she is laying on a dirt floor.

Just as she gets herself to a stand, a rumbling vibrates the ground. Light comes streaming in from two very heavy doors being opened, blinding her for a quick moment.

The shouting is louder, but she can’t make out the words. She debates not going out but there doesn’t seem to be another exit, so out the door she goes.

First thing she realizes when she steps outside is that she isn’t outside. It’s some sort of indoor stadium. Bright spotlights hang above the area, and there is a visible barrier around the circle space.

Second thing she notices is the number of people in the stands. If she thought it was loud before, it is almost deafening once they saw her.

“Is everyone ready for a great show?!” It sounded like a wrestling announcer with a commanding, low voice.

“In this corner is Beacon, the light-based superhero that shines brighter than the sun!” The spotlight emphasizes her position. She panics for a brief moment but calms slightly that she is wearing her hero costume, mask still in place.

Once she takes in the rest of the announcement, her uneasiness skyrockets. Is she in a fighting ring? Like in Fight Club?

“And in the opposing corner is Reflection, the defensive vigilante that deflects more than my last girlfriend!” Pippa follows the light and sees her opponent for the first time.

The figure has striking white hair that almost shimmers from the exaggerated light. Crystal eyes that give her a death glare so sharp that it looks could kill, she would be dead. A mask that’s looks to be made of broken mirror shards adorns her face.

Armor covers her arms and legs made from shattered glass. From her admiration of the girl’s combat suit, Pippa nearly forgot she has to fight her.

That is until the announcer speaks again. “And now the battle you were all waiting for, Beacon vs Reflection!”

Immediately, Reflection conjures a shiny shield that she holds up in front of her body.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Pippa says, holding her hands up in front of her. “You clearly don’t understand what a fighting ring is. What did you think? We’d be braiding each other’s hair?” Reflection asks, sarcasm and annoyance evident.

The hand not holding the shield is thrown in her direction and mirror shards whip through the air. Pippa creates a light screen, the shards hitting and falling into the ground, harmless.

“Can we talk about this?!” Pippa yelps as she lunges to the side to dodge more shards.

She flicks her hand and a small ball of light flies to Reflection, but she doesn’t move at all. It bounces right off her armor. Shit.

With her opponent’s superior defensive skills, she knows she has to play this smart. She can’t use her light beams or usual offensive attacks.

“It appears that Reflection has the upper hand! Let’s see if Beacon can adapt or fail trying!” The announcer’s voice booms. She really begins to hate that guy.

She flies up to make avoid any physical combat.

Reflection’s eyes narrow at this. “You think I can’t get you up there?”

“We don’t have to fight,” Pippa suggests. That doesn’t seem to get through her head. The mirror pieces on the ground shake for a moment and then shoot at her command.

As she glides through the air, and they follow her. She groans because of course they do.

The audience appear to enjoy this chasing game as the screaming gets louder.

One particularly fast piece slices her arm. With first blood drawn, the crowd goes wild.

“First blood goes to Reflection! Will she overtake Beacon in the battle?” Pippa never has wished for a different power than right about now. Manipulating sound to shut him up would be nice. Or maybe teleportation to just leave.

Pippa blasts her light to the barrier, hoping to find a weak spot. The barrier flickers but remains, having absorbed her attack.

“How about we make this more interesting? What do you say?” The announcer questions, though Pippa knows it is rhetorical. The fight is getting boring with her not fighting back. Something is going to change it up.

“Welcome a third fighter, liquid manipulating villain, Water Craze!”

Pippa gasps and her smooth flight falters. He was here?

“Place your bets!”

From a third entrance that she didn’t even notice before, he staggers through. The watchers going nuts when they see him.

His head swings side to side, taking in his surroundings, but his gaze settles on her.

“Tink?” Confusion controlling his tone and facial expressions. He rolls to the side to dodge Reflection’s oncoming attacks.

“We’re in some sort of gladiator fight,” Pippa attempts to elucidate for him. At least with all the information she knew.

Reflection focuses her energy on her new opponent as mirror pieces are now aimed at Water Craze. A swirling whirlpool catch the attack, and they once again fall to the ground.

Pippa lands next to him just as Reflection directs another bunch of shattered glass his way. “If we want to get out of here, we may have to work together,” she says as she conjures a shield for both of them.

“Wow, Tink, don’t sound so excited at the prospect of working with me,” he teases.

“We were kidnapped and trapped in a fighting ring and yet you want to joke with me right now?” She deadpans, glaring at him.

“With you? Always.”

Her unimpressed look continues until he sighs. “Fine, truce until we get out of here.”

“Ok, let’s do this.”

“I can’t believe my parents let us just not continue on with the fight.” Dakota states. He is cleaning his daggers after Shraydin and him went hunting to get the urge to fight out of their systems. Shraydin on the other hand is sitting there, staring at Dakota with a face of if you were to make it an emoji it would be the heart eyes emoji. They’re being quiet since they can’t stop thinking about the fact their parents were the head of the kings’ warriors. That means if they had been raised with them still working for the kings they’d be a part of the kings’ warriors as well. They would’ve basically grown up with Dakota. What would Shraydin’s life been like if their parents hadn’t moved when they learned they were pregnant with them? Shraydin wouldn’t have had to fend for themself on the road since they were seven years old. Shraydin had been picked on for being different than the other shifters in Riverside. Since they didn’t have the ability to go to school without a proper guardian they other kids saw that as an opportunity to make them even more vulnerable. They didn’t eat everyday because the kids would find their stash and steal all they had left. There was one time during the spring of their 17th year in life, that they found great land to make a farm off of. But the other shifters found out and destroyed the little farm by torching it. The kids found joy in it especially since some of them were fire dragon shifters so they were the ones to bring the fire to torch the farm. Shraydin wouldn’t had to have gone through that in their teens if they had grown up with the kings’ warriors. “Whatcha thinking about over there?” Dakota interrupts Shraydin’s thoughts. “Just how my life would’ve been different if my parents hadn’t moved across the globe when they found out they were with child. I would’ve had the chance to grow up with you and we would be even closer than we are now. We would’ve fought together during the Battle of Dew that happened a few years ago. I wove been trained a lot better to fight. Uuurgh!!!” “Stop it! We can’t control everything that happens to our lives. What we can control is how we react to it. Your parents probably thought that they wouldn’t be killed so soon after moving to Riverside. They probably were thinking you would’ve had a better life without having to deal with much of the politics that comes with this kingdom. Basically everyone here in this kingdom is caught up in the political system that just needs a complete redo. When it’s my time to rule, I’ll be trying to change it. Be glad you didn’t grow up in the amount of politics I did. It drew my parents away from me resulting in not the best of bonds with them.” “I didn’t realize that’s what you had to deal with.” “No one does.” Dakota the decides that hugging Shraydin would help ease some of the tension that kind of built up in the room. They’re both sitting the living room of Dakota’s little cabin house that his parents built for him when he decided he wanted to move out. Even though his parents disagreed with it, they knew he’d just leave and move out anyways. So they insisted that he let them build his cabin house that is far enough away from society he can feel free to, but it’s still close enough to them that he can drive or portal over quickly when he’s needed or just when he wants to visit. … The next morning, after they barely got rest, they had to get up to go visit Kings Mason and Oliver. “I’m so glad you could join us this morning. We are wanting to discuss how will be going about your situation. Will you be suitors to each other?” King Mason asks while pouring a cup of coffee and adding peppermint mocha creamer. “Dad, seriously?! Let us have time to even process the fact you’re allowing this for me. Last week you were discussing about finding me a wife and not letting me have a say in it. And now you’re all about letting me choice my fated mate and want us to complete the mate bond and marry as soon as possible?” “Chill out, now we didn’t say anything about completing the mate bond, just that it would be best to announce you guys suiting each other sooner rather than later, especially considering that fight was going to be in front of almost the whole kingdom.” King Oliver chimes in. “Might I say that I am not conditioned to your ways and need time to process this? I wasn’t raised as one of your warriors but that doesn’t mean you should dismiss me, since I am the child of your head warriors. I am aware they aren’t here with us anymore. They were killed right in front of me twenty years ago. I was dismissed like I wasn’t even there. I had to fend for myself on the streets. I didn’t have any relatives to take care of me. No one knew of anyone that was willing to take care of me. Now please, teach me your ways and then ask that again!” “You’re a feisty one. You did say you had to live on the streets so that would explain that, but you mother was also very feisty as well. Dakota, keep that one with us, their important not just because of being your fated mate, their a phoenix dragon, velociraptor demon kreatcher. Those are like the rarest types of kreatchers and even rarer as shifters. Keep them safe. And I know you probably know how to put up a fight, but allow our warriors to train even further, especially with some weapons and shifting.” Both of the kings leave.

“They’re barbarians..” Jae muttered so quietly I almost missed it. I shrugged, “ It’s normal here.” “But does it not bother you at all what they’re doing these innocent people?” Jae winced, looking at field and the new blood splatter. “I’m not saying it’s right but that’s how it is” I retorted, losing my cool a split second. I quickly take a deep breath. Most of the time, ‘clients’ don’t get me as riled up as Jae’s doing, “C’mon” I grab her arm quickly walking to our seats. Once we sit down, we have about 20 minutes of silence with Jae wincing at every blood splatter. “Quit wincing.” I mutter to her, “They’re already onto you. You’re just making them suspect us more.” “Us.” Jae whispered, attempting to crack a smile even though she looked at green as the plants growing throughout the stadium, “You’re the boss here..” I rolled my eyes playing with the ivy that was growing next to my seat. The plants were carefully cared for, attempting to make this dump of a city look good. Like it was the place to be. A while later Jae leans over, “But are you sure we need to be here..?” She looked pale now. “As I’ve said, multiple times, they are on to us. Going to The Reaping is about the most normal thing we can do to get their suspicions off of us. We can’t get you home if they’re watching us.” “Yeah, but couldn’t we just do something else?” Jae asked pulling on my sweater. I rolled my eyes. Jae knew the answer. I returned to staring at the field but not actually watching what was going on. Jae shivered, tightly gripping the arm of my sweater. We sat like that for a while

(~Author’s Note - I honestly struggled with this. I had no idea where it was going. Sorry for the ending heh heh.. I might use these characters again. Also yes, the main character is currently unnamed. Time to work on the next :]~)

Sara y su amigo de pluma visitaron a Juan en España.para el partido final de fútbol, el único problema es que Sara no hablo español todavía. Así que Juan tiene que traducirlo todo en inglés.

“Me alegro de verte sara” Dijo Juan

Sara miró a Juan y hizo una pequeña ola

“Right, no hablo español, sorry.” Says Juan in a Mexican accent

“It’s ok I’ve always wanted to learn.” Said Sarah

“¡Muy bien! My padre will take us to the game.” Juan said

Caminaron al auto fuera del aeropuerto, cuando entraron el coche, Juan le presentó a su padre a Sara

“Papá, Ella es Sara mi amigo de pluma de los Estados Unidos.” Dijo Juan

“Mucho gusto Sara, welcome to Spain I’m José. I will be driving you to Barcelona.

“Mucho gusto señor Pérez, gracias.” Sara said in the best way she could

Mientras conducían a los juegos Juan señaló las cosas divertidas que hacer en España

“Mira over there is the best restaurante to eat at they have the best churros too, and in Madrid they are going to have a festival while your here it’s were we all dress in white clothes then through tomatoes at each other.”

“That sounds really fun maybe so could go, if it’s ok with you guys that is.” Sarah said

“ we would love to take you Sara.” José said mientras conducía al jugo

——————— At the games Sarah couldn’t believe how big the stadium was as she looked out through the window all of the parking spots were full and crowds of many people were all walking to the stadium doors. They eventually found a parking spot and started walking too José turned to Juan and said “ make sure Sara doesn’t get lost in the crowds, she isn’t in her homeland.”

“Sí, papá.” Juan responded to his dad then looked at Sara “don’t worry few people get lost and it’s mainly the little kids.”

“That’s ok I’ll stay close to you guys.” Sarah said as they walked up to the gates

Save the poet, save the universe. With one line, just one verse.

Weaving words, for their craft. What is heard, not their wrath.

Creating rhyme, is the passion. Lost in time, out of fashion.

Treat them kindly, sensitive heart. Words are timely, on a lark. Kozmyk