The night air was crisp and cool upon Jake’s face. Millions of tiny lights filled the sky like a field of fireflies. Like most nights, Jake sat on the old oak stump in the center of the silent woods. But tonight was special; he could feel it, the tension in the air, the stillness of the seemingly nonexistent wildlife. Something was to happen. A warm breeze stirred the trees, their great green leaves shimmering in the moonlight. Jake looked up at the moon, he broke out in a grin and rose to his feet, the air before him shimmered like waves lapping at his bare feet. His ragged jeans hung loosely about his slender frame, his rough crop of midnight-black hair dancing in the breeze, his leather jacket dully reflecting the light from the iridescent moon. It was happening. In the distance a lone wolf released its mournful cry, the forest around seemed to answer. All at once a great clamor arose as out of the trees broke hundreds of birds. Below them on the ground picturesque white-tail deer, along with bears and foxes, ran away from the clearing. As soon as it had begun, it ended, and everything was still once more. They knew it was to happen. In the distance a lone wolf released its mournful cry The aurora of shimmering air encircled Jake, glittering around him like morning dew in the new sun’s light. Jake stood stock still, the grin gone from his face to be replaced by a look of awe, nothing like this had happened before in his lifetime, he knew nothing about what was going on, except that it was part of him, and that it was meant to be. A loud, earsplitting crack broke the silence of the night. Out of nowhere a bluegreen bolt of lightning flew towards the earth at an astounding speed. Jake’s body began to change, the smile had returned as he crouched on the ground. The bolt of lightning struck the ground not an inch before Jake’s face. Fiery multicolored sparks flew, striking Jake all over. It was happening. The ragged jeans and leather jacket fell away, along with the other articles of clothing, no longer necessary on this body of dense black fur. Jake lifted his new ca- nine head and loosed such a howl that the very air seemed to vibrate with its melodious notes. Jake turned, the shimmering air was gone, his time had come, as it now would for the rest of his life. He was a lycan, a demon, a werewolf. Another call answered his, and he trotted off towards the reply. Above him the clouds parted, revealing a full blue moon. The Jake-wolf sat on his haunches, and howled once more at this sign of power. It had happened. Brian Hoover, 12Bend, Oregon Hannah Tyler, 13Grapevine, Texas
Fantasy
Secrets in the Forest
Casping peered out of the curtains hiding her in the carriage speeding down a gravel road. A guard on the seat beside her grunted and reached over to pull her back inside. With a sigh of grief and understanding, Casping sat back against the silk-covered seat. She hung her head and let the burning sensation behind her eyes ascend. She let her soft blond hair cover her pale, angelic face as she wept. The carriage took a sharp turn, stopping her in the middle of a sob. She quickly reminded herself this was all for the best. She needed to stay hidden, and stay safe. Death was not an option; she needed to survive long enough to rule her parents’ kingdom. If she did not hide, then surely her family’s enemy, the powerful Rasha, would find and kill her. Casping knew she must accept her fate. Besides, her family must really love her to go to these measures of safety. Casping shivered as the cold winter wind blew open the curtains. She caught a glimpse of frost-covered trees and bushes and wondered what it would be like living in the middle of a deserted forest. At least she would have a cabin to live in and the two guards riding beside her to protect her. Sighing, now out of boredom and impatience, Casping turned to ask the guard on her right how much longer it would be. Suddenly an arrow came flying through the curtains as they burst into flames. The arrow was on fire! It struck the guard in the chest and he immediately fell. Casping let out a terrified scream, jumping up in panic. She turned to find her left guard was already dead as well. She turned her wide silver eyes to the man who was leading the horses. He was slumped over in the seat, bleeding from a very recent wound. Casping shivered as the cold winter wind blew open the curtains Casping’s heart seemed to stop, but her mind didn’t. She jumped into the front seat and pushed the body out of the way with a muttered “sorry.” She urged the horses into a full gallop. Racing down a slope, she could hear more arrows being shot towards her, and the orange flames just missing her. As the carriage suddenly erupted into flames, Casping knew she was done for. She saw her only chance of escape to her left. It was a forest, dark and mysterious. Everything seemed to slow down as she jumped out of the carriage. She rapidly undid the leather straps connecting the horses to the carriage and jumped atop the one who was the fastest, Kundra. The other horse ran in the opposite direction, towards the enemy. Casping cringed as she heard it let out a last whinny, but she didn’t stop. She coaxed Kundra into a blinding run towards any ounce of safety the forest held and prayed they’d make it. The moon was already up by the time Casping was sure she and Kundra were alone. The over-exercised horse’s sides were heaving as he wheezed. Casping staggered off the sweaty black horse. Tying up Kundra by his bridle, she murmured soft words, “There, there, good boy It’ll be all right.” Her once melodic voice was now oozing with mental pain and emptiness. Kundra whinnied hoarsely in reply. A strong wind began to blow, sending shivers to caress Casping. Clouds overhead were as dark and as thick smoke, and full of threatening snow. Only moments later, the promised snow began to glide down to earth. In an attempt to shield herself from winter’s unforgiving embrace, Casping pulled her soft robe over her head. Kundra was sleeping by the time Casping had created a reasonably warm fire. She knew she could not cry, for the water might freeze her face even more. Instead, she lay down beside the fire and gratefully gave herself up to her dreams. It must have been in the wee hours of the morning when Casping woke up. Something was wrong. She never woke up this early without a reason. Then the sound that had awakened her repeated. It was howling. The howl sounded like it was coming from one lonely wolf. “Calm down, Kundra. I won’t let it hurt you,” Casping whispered, trying to soothe the panicking horse. He bucked, then froze with wide, rolling eyes. “What is…” Casping began to ask, but a growl interrupted her from a few yards at least behind her. Kundra yanked on his bridle, cutting his mouth on the bit. Casping untied the reins, about to ride him out of the forest. But, with other intentions, Kundra sped off into the woods. Casping heard the trample of hooves on the undergrowth and howling that was moving towards the trampling. Suddenly, a sickening whinny sounded across the forest to Casping, making her cringe. She wanted to run after Kundra, bring him back to safety, but feared what she would see. Fearful of the wolf’s return, she built up another fire and fell into a freezing sleep. Movement woke Casping. She opened her eyes in a confused daze. She couldn’t feel her face! What was going on? Her fingers were stiff and felt frozen. Casping finally realized someone was carrying her. She looked into an unfamiliar face. He was handsome and young, only a few years older-looking than her. He looked down at her, concern in his sharp eyes. His eyes were odd. They were golden brown colors, but that wasn’t the odd part. They didn’t look… very human. After a few minutes, or so it seemed, Casping realized she was in a hut, and a very warm and cozy hut at that. She was placed on a soft blanket, one made of brown fur. The stranger had his back turned to her. She watched him weakly, feeling some warmth creeping around in her body. He turned around, watching her intently, almost studying her. She looked away and felt her eyes
The Time Magicians
Sunlight beamed onto Gareth Then’s face, forcing him awake. It was the morning after Gareth had arrived at his Uncle Turif’s cabin on the island of Belmopan. The cabin was in a clearing of the isolated Zel Forest, and Turif lived there alone. Gareth was there against his wishes. Dinner the night before had been a silent, simple meal of meat and greens, and his uncle had turned out to be cold and grouchy. But that wasn’t the worst of it: Gareth had seen Turif do Time Magic. As he lay in the chair that had been his bed, Gareth thought back to the day before, when Turif had used his Magic to speed up a tree in Time, causing it to age and then die in a minute. Gareth shuddered. Time Magic was believed to be evil. Gareth’s father, Seramon, always said that Turif was the black sheep of the family With cold eyes, Seramon would tell of the day he had found Turif practicing Time Magic, playing with Time itself. “Bad stuff, Time Magic is,” said Seramon. “Normal magic’s fine and all; it’s OK. Time Magic, though, well you want to keep clear of that. Messing with Time, you never can tell what’s going to happen.” Luckily for Seramon, Turif was one of the few Time Magicians left in the known world, if not the only one. Then, everything stopped. Except for Turif and Gareth, the world was frozen Gareth stretched, and listened for any telltale sound that Turif was awake. He heard nothing, and tiptoed across the hall into the kitchen to find something to eat; he decided upon a juicy red apple. He bit into it as he tiptoed back across the kitchen—colliding with the scowling Turif. “Stealing now, are we?” said Turif dryly, stepping past Gareth and into the kitchen. He grabbed a loaf of bread for himself. “I- I… Gareth stood there, looking at the apple. “I wasn’t trying to steal, U- Uncle. I was just… hungry.” Turif snorted, munching on the bread. “Well, that apple’s your breakfast, boy,” said Turif. He walked outside into the clearing, calling, “Follow me.” Turif sat on the trunk of a fallen tree, and motioned for Gareth to do the same. “Boy,” he said, taking a deep breath, “you have potential.” “What?” Turif sighed. “Has your father told you nothing?” he muttered. The boy blinked. “You’re a Time Magician. Well, not a Time Magician in full,” frowned Turif, considering. “Wait,” said Gareth. “I’m…” he coughed, “I’m a Time Magician?” “Are you listening, boy?” hissed Turif “You have the potential to become one! And I’m going to make sure that that potential is fulfilled.” “I- I don’t understand.” Turif stood up and began to pace in irritation. “With my help, you can become a Time Magician,” he said slowly and with a calm that threatened to break at any second. “Then you and I will be the only two Time Magicians in the world.” “Well, do I have to be one?” asked Gareth, not fully comprehending the situation. Turif roared with irritation. He swung his hand in the air, causing the fleeting sound of a stream. Then, everything stopped. Except for Turif and Gareth, the world was frozen. Butterflies were suspended in the air. The wind ceased to blow, and the birds were silent and held unnaturally still. “That,” said Turif quietly, “is what you will do when I finish with you.” Gareth understood. Still, he was divided. Part of him wanted to accept Turif’s offer, wanted the power of Time Magic. The other heard the echo of his father’s voice: “Bad stuff, Time Magic is… ” As the clearing around him came back into motion, Gareth worried that Seramon was right. Turif was interfering with Time itself, and although it was amazing, it was also terrible. “Sorry” replied Gareth, “but I can’t be a Time Magician.” Turif stared at him. “I’m not asking you if you want to,” he said, anger edging his voice again. “You will be a Time Magician: When I die, the art of Time Magic will die with me if you aren’t. And I’m not about to let that happen.” Without waiting for a response from Gareth, he stood. “Your lessons will begin now.” Gareth began to argue, but Turif’s glare made him decide to cooperate, for now. “First, you must learn about The River of Time,” Turif said. “It is everywhere, always there, always flowing. Normally, The River flows at a certain speed, and everything is drawn along with it. All Time Magic really does is manipulate it. “What a Time Magician needs to do is change The River’s speed. If you can make it go faster, Time goes faster. And vice versa. You can also make it stop flowing. The only thing you cannot do to The River is reverse it. You cannot go back to the past. “People around the Magician, even those who are not Magicians themselves, hear The River flow when Time Magic is used.” “That’s what I heard yesterday when you sped up the tree!” exclaimed Gareth, excited despite himself Turif nodded, and continued. “You never change all of the river. That would take enough power to kill a Magician. What you have to do is manipulate parts of it. For instance, when I stopped Time just now, Time outside of the clearing didn’t stop moving. And we weren’t frozen in place. “Time Magic can also have disastrous results. For instance, if I had let Time escape my control it could have frozen the entire forest. Time Magic can be very dangerous. “And now it’s time for you to try feeling The River.” Gareth admitted that Time Magic sounded amazing, but he remembered what Seramon had said. He would pretend to go along, and maybe Turif would forget the whole thing. “Sit still,” said Turif “Close your eyes. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Don’t even think. Try to feel The River flowing around you.” Gareth did as he
