The picture on the postcard was weird enough, showing the front of her house with the tree she had planted only last summer fully grown. But it was the message that was truly mind-tottering. “Mika- Time to get you back where you belong. Apply today to the Future Writers program.”
One poisoned pie in the mix made the journey that much more important. Though he hated saying goodby to his friends, he knew the only choice now was to follow the creature with the scaly texture and bird-like twitter. He would have to complete its quest to get the antidote.
Celia walked cautiously into the yard. In theory, her brother was expecting her, but that was just theory. She ignored the black mass. It was too small to be one of his guard dogs. And then it rushed her, honking loudly. She screamed and threw her suitcase at the goose.
The storm came knocking, the air so thick with moisture there wasn’t room for rain. Funny, Liam thought, that he couldn’t see his feet, but the distant skerries shone against the ocean. Of course, it might all be a mirage, as his last memory was of walking through the desert.
Sela looked at the book and then at the scissors in her hand. She could not delay any longer, for the wishful feeling the scripture awakened in her threatened to overcome what she knew she must be done. If she didn’t act now, everything they had fought for would be undone.
She heard the crows calling, and it took her back to a different age, a season in her life when her only responsibility was feeding the birds. Nothing had made her contrary little heart happier than giving the crows cat kibble, except the souvenirs the crows gave her in return.
“There are no stars anymore. The cold vastness of space is empty.”
“What are you talking about? Just look up.”
“Those are moss piglets.”
“Moss piglets?”
“Water bears, tardigrades.”
“Whatever you want to call them.”
“Shows what you know. They are too small to be seen with the naked eye.”
She had practiced her patter for weeks, the presentation for months. Getting real magic to feel like a trick pretending to be magic was not easy. But she had made it onto the stage of Fool Us. As Penn talked in coded words, she heard Teller’s voice in her head.
“Don’t you ever get tired of coaxing silent answers bare hearts, Inspector?”
“What, this? Flip it around and you’ll find a galaxy of words. It’s a venue for precious pearls and seasons in the sun.”
“You don’t need to be such a grouch. When was the last time you ate?”
She stood in front of another bridge to cross, listening to the hereafter echoes coming off the mountains in the scarlet sky. She twisted her ring, remembering how his suspenseful eyes used to irk her, but now she would do just about anything for his friendship, for one more “Hello”.
There was a litany of reasons she shouldn’t join a sorority. But all of her life she had dreamed of the good times, of late dinners of cheese and wine, and maybe even forbidden fruit, though that was another bridge to cross. She was a young woman, not a saint.
They floated high in the atmosphere. Perennial fires on the surface meant they mostly played cards. But today, through some accident of fate, there was a brief spell when a choke of ashes reached their craft, and they had to rush to save the rare Booby nesting in their vents.
Only in solitude could she catch her breath. She willed her heart to beat slow and steady as she gulped the air.
You can’t leave like that. We can’t wake up in the morgue again.
But your lungs are small, trapped between your ribs and spine. I just want freedom.
She swept away her tarot cards, weary of her own fortune teller daydreams. Where had they brought her? Far away from everything she’d ever known, to the far side of Goodbye, a planet moving away from its star, on the verge of permanent nightfall, searching for a key … to what?
The future had been written in the ashes of the first patient he wasn’t able to save. They never should have come to this planet. Now he was dripping in sweat, his body burning slowly from the inside. He made his way outside where the flowers reminded him of daisies.
He was here to photograph the macabre scene. The drought had been brutal. The energy grid was failing. The electric storms were just salt in the wound. He lamented the loss of life. But as he turned to clear his head, the hosorated lake unleashed tranquility. He took that picture.
For Echoes in the Mist, take sips of Troubled Wine.
Add to tumbler: 6 different tree nuts, 5 chrysanthemum petals, 2 lily pads, 1 rosebud with fresh dew, 6 oz rosé wine
Shake
Drop in 3 razor blades (do NOT stir, let gravity do the work)
Ensorcell with twilight reveries
Life aboard the ark wasn’t easy, especially for the cooks. You had to be careful with a hot skillet when almost everything was wood. But what Noela really hadn’t been prepared for was the frequency with which people craved meat, not an option with only two of every animal onboard.
Star, what are you doing walking ethereal blooms?
I am gathering the sea’s deepest blues in my amulet, Master Nebula. I need them for my potions test. I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you avoided the dark matter & energy.
Whiskey secrets & morning illusions, my dear.
Outcast, Lone Wolf, they called her. They misunderstood. She was a vixen, sneaking in and out of places she didn’t belong. Until now. In this sublime moment before her death, she was conscious to the empty and wishing only to once more hear the whispering pine confessions of the woods.
The best family tradition is telling stories in the starlight. Slowing it down, walking in the field, stopping to stare at the sky, spinning whatever yarns come to mind. But they take care to avoid the woods. Only shadows live there & tales told under the branches hold only madness.
“What is this?”
“It is my rebirth amouncement.”
“You mean announcement.”
“No. You announce someone else. This is to amounce myself, my new self”
“Your new self?”
“Yes, Lady Minuet del Tenore.”
“Lady? But you are…”
“Me. I am me. And that is why I am giving you an amouncement.”
She didn’t set out to kill anyone. She never did. But their heartbeats… She knew it sounded impossible, but their heartbeats told her they were tired, that they were ready to rest. So she visited, smiled as she listened to their happiest memories, and left them with a final kiss.
Time travel took time. An hour per year. No rest stops or drive-thrus. No electronics, books published after the destination date, or personal articles you had no reason to have. She had left the picture of her grandfather at home. But she had to know the secret behind his smile.
Looking through the box of old pictures left her sifting through memories. Summer Sunday nights. They could see the screen of the drive-in from the top of their RV in the KOA campground. They would get dressed up, eat their watermelon with forks, and called it “going to the cinema”.
The potential meter reset at dawn. Each day, it tracked the potential for good or bad. Usually, it settled within 1-2 degrees of center and moved during the day. But that morning, the sun on the water awakened something new. The needle did a full 360 and did not stop.
The branches stabbed at the sky, bare except for one perfect apple. Everyone in the village said it was poison, the ugliness of the tree temptingly camouflaged. But he saw a blessing. The tree had sacrificed all of its beauty for this one moment of perfection. He picked the apple.
She stared, unable to grasp what she was seeing. The mountain had not moved in generations. It had stayed fixed, as mountains were supposed to. Most people had forgotten it could move. But today, on a platform of clouds, it was coming closer. The gods were coming for a visit.
Twilight hovered in the wings. Day still held the spotlight, & Night would soon take the stage. But for the intermezzo, it would all belong to Twilight. For some, transitions were the hard part. For others, they were simply a thing to make it through. Twilight lived in the transitions.
She tripped over a shoe that was not where she had left it.
A dog bone skidded across the hardwood floor.
She sat down right there and then to cry yet again.
And that’s when she felt little licks on her hands.
They had told her the house was haunted.
She stood in the room that had once been hers. Trucks and action figures spilled out of the toy box her grandfather had built. Her bed, once the home of dolls, was covered in dinosaurs. Her father had a new life, a new wife, and the son he’d always wanted.
One foot in front of the other. Don’t look forward, don’t look back.
One foot in front of the other. The past forgotten, the future unwritten.
One foot in front of the other. To stop is to die.