“I’m swimming in that lake whether you’re coming with me or not” “Annabelle, I just don’t think this is a good idea,” my best friend said nervously. “I mean, the sign even says, ‘Private Property: No trespassing, No swimming, No exceptions!’” “Oh, come on, Sarah! Nobody’s home right now anyway,” I replied. I enjoy having fun. You know, taking risks and doing the most ridiculous dares ever. That was fun. Now, I had my eyes set on swimming in the lake right before my eyes. It was so close, and the water looked so cool and clean. It definitely beat swimming in the community pool. “Sarah, I’m swimming in that lake whether you’re coming with me or not.” “Annabelle, wait!” I had already slipped through the fence and was in the process of taking my shoes off. “Annabelle,” Sarah pleaded, “what if something happens to you, and I become known as the girl who just stood by and watched, and then no one will be my friend, and no adult would respect me, and then where would I be in life, and that would also cause me tons of emotional problems when I get older, I might get post-traumatic stress disorder seeing something horrible happen to you, I could have nightmares for the rest of my life…” “Sarah,” I stopped her from going into one of her complete run-on-sentence-type ordeals. When she’s nervous she never stops talking. “You are just trying to distract me from going in that lake by jabbering!” With that, I jumped right off the pier and into the water. It provided wonderful relief from the heat wave that had swept through my town in Virginia. I stayed under the water for a few more seconds before resurfacing. “Ohhh, that feels so nice,” I said, trying to get Sarah to jump in too. “Nice try, Annabelle,” Sarah said, “there is no way whatsoever that I am even going on the other side of this fence. No, sir, I’m staying right here on un-private property.” “Suit yourself, you can stay in that dreadful heat while I’m nice and cool in here.” “Humph,” Sarah grumbled. * * * Suddenly I felt… different. It was as if I was weightless and was floating through nothing. It was dark, and I was under the impression that I had gone underwater, but I was still breathing. My vision blurred, and the world started spinning. I closed my eyes, only wanting to stop spiraling and find out where I was. Then everything stopped. I wasn’t in the water anymore, but I was still soaking wet. I slowly opened my eyes and saw an open sky with fluffy, white clouds spread out above me. Where the heck am I? seemed to be the only thing that I could think at the moment. A lush, green meadow went as far as the eye could see. It was so peaceful. It wasn’t a lake in Virginia where I was just moments before. I finally made myself get up and walk around to help dry my wet clothes. I thought about what I should do next. My options were: stay where I was and wait for someone to find me, or start moving in a random direction and hope to find someone. Of course, there was always the possibility that I was dreaming or something, but it all felt real. I paced and paced like I typically do while thinking, when I no longer had to make a decision. The ground beneath my feet began to tremble and vibrate. On the horizon I spotted at least twenty figures that looked like men on horses. Maybe I was in the pasture of a horse ranch or something. A few minutes went by and the horses were still heading toward me. I started to walk forward so I could meet up with them sooner. As I strode up to greet the men, they formed a tight circle around me. They all drew their swords while murmurs spread throughout them. One man’s horse stepped forward a bit and the man’s eyes narrowed. “It is the glorious Harvest Day! One of the most important holidays celebrated in honor of Sir Nathaniel Corin of Morovia and his perilous quests to find food for his starving people. Why are you not working in the fields where a peasant like you belongs?” the man asked, sounding bored and irritated. “I… uh… well… you see, I don’t know who Nathaniel Corin is, and I’m kinda lost. All I want to do is get back home and, you know, not work in a field,” I replied, not really knowing the best way to respond to that whole spiel. All of the men gasped in unison and whispered urgently to one another. The man who had spoken to me clenched his fists, his eyes seemed to pop out of his head, and his face turned an unnatural shade of purple. “Now listen! Make sure you listen well, because that kind of talk can get you killed! It is Sir Nathaniel Corin, or Sir Corin. It is never, under any circumstance, just…” he swallowed hard before reluctantly saying, “it is never just Nathaniel Corin.” What kind of a freak was this guy? I mean, seriously! Nobody even worshipped Oprah that much and I highly doubted that not saying the “Sir” could get me a death sentence. I was really tempted to tell this man that, but instead I said in my best theatrical voice, “My most sincere and deepest apologies. I do hope that you will forgive me. I really do just want to get home.” OK, the last part wasn’t a lie, but I was kind of enjoying messing with this guy. Suddenly, someone in the crowd piped up. He cried, “Wait! Take a good look at her; she resembles the girl in Sir Corin’s puzzle!” The man who was now returning to a normal shade of skin screamed, “Hush! Why should she know about that?”
Fantasy
Daughter of Bastet
“Welcome, sister. We have long roads to run, you and I” Her eyes snapped open, instantly awake. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and jumped out, fully dressed. Lightly, she padded down the hall and through the house. Cautiously, she cracked the sliding-glass door open, wincing as it squealed across the floor. She froze, half expecting her father shouting to “get back to bed this instant or else.” Luckily, the house remained silent and she slipped out of the apartment and onto the balcony. She halted, staring at her reflection in the glass pane. Shaggy black hair, chocolate skin, intense amber eyes… they all added up to an outsider’s face. She had never fit in at school or anywhere else. Heck, even she and her dad didn’t get along well. She had always been the outsider, the weird girl, the loner. That, she vowed, was going to be changed tonight. Taking a deep breath, she scaled the apartment wall, finding minute hand- and footholds with ease. She swung herself over and landed lightly on her feet. Just like a real cat, she thought proudly. She cautiously padded over to the edge of the roof and looked down. Below her, eleven stories down, lay the sleeping city; so busy by day, yet so still at night. She looked up, past the asphalt jungle, and into the forest. Its cool green depths silently beckoned to her. Soon, she promised. Soon. It was, as she called it, a running night. It just made you want to move. The wind tugged at her hair, whispering move move move. A breezy, cool sky sparkled with thousands of stars over head like someone threw a handful of diamonds into the sky. Silently, she watched the still, sleeping city from her lofty perch. Suddenly, she stood up from her feral crouch. Sounding from across the city, almost inaudible, rang a bell, chiming louder by the second. Almost noiselessly, with superhuman strength and agility, she darted across the rooftops of the quiet city. Dodging or leaping over obstacles, she leaped gaps and scaled chimneys with ease. At the edge of the city, she paused again, straining her ears. From the shadowed forest came the faint sound of the bell, ringing… then silent. She grinned, took a reading on the fading sound, and leaped off of the roof and into the forest. Branches and leaves whipped her racing body and tugged at her hair. After a few minutes of breakneck racing through the forest, she halted at a small clearing. She was not, however, alone. Green-glinting eyes shone in pairs around the clearing. She slowly, deliberately walked forward, quelling the worm of fear in her gut. She bowed. “Sisters. Well met.” “Well met.” Her sensitive ears picked up the response in a chorus of quiet female voices. The glowing eyes moved forward out of the shadows and into the fickle light of the stars. A group of seven tall, lithe women stood in a circle under the stars around her. “We gather here today,” spoke-sang the tallest, most feline woman, “to welcome a sister.” Keen, sharp eyes turned to her, scrutinizing her. She could almost feel their stares, picking apart her personality and digging into her soul. Trying not to look afraid, she boldly gazed back, trying to look brave. She must’ve passed some unspoken test, for the eyes soon turned back to the woman talking. The older woman smiled, displaying a small, pointed canine. “Welcome, sister. We have long roads to run, you and I.” Her throat was dry, but she managed to cough out a “Yes, if fate wills it.” She wasn’t sure, but she thought she caught a glimpse of sympathy in her eyes, like she knew how it felt to be the newbie in a group. The leader stiffened, raising her head like she heard someone—something calling. In response, the other women tensed, turning into the wind. The breeze whipped her hair across her face, hiding her face in shadow. “Sisters!” she cried. “We hunt!” Like a smooth river flowing together, the daughters of Bastet leaped down from their collective perches and ran. Long limbs bunched and extended tirelessly, chasing after a strange, elusive scent. She brought up the back, for the first time in her life struggling to keep up with someone. As she ran, she laughed at the sheer glory and exhilaration of the hunt. This was how it was supposed to be. Running, following people who accepted her, understood her. She grinned wryly for a moment. This felt completely normal, perfect, even, to her, but a regular mortal, seeing seemingly ordinary humans in such an inhuman way would probably be shocked. She noticed the pace growing faster, speeding up. A sudden gust of wind brought with it a musky, herbivore scent: a deer. She suddenly stopped, letting the others race past her. A few things had clicked in her mind. Here was the predator. There was the prey. Soon the predator would meet the prey. She looked away, abruptly feeling nauseous. There was a snarl, a squeal, then silence. She cautiously looked up again, and then walked the few yards to where the rest of the group congregated. The leader, who apparently made the kill, looked up and saw her approach uneasily. The woman smiled at her and beckoned her to join them. She noted, with faint relief, that there was no (visible) sign of a scuffle. She wasn’t that catlike yet. The leader motioned her over. “Here, have some of the venison.” She sat down next to her, still feeling kind of awkward, and took a bite. It was tough and gamy, not like the venison in those fancy restaurants her dad took her to. It took some chewing, but it was full of good flavor. The leader watched her adjust to the setting, smiling. “I am Siv. The others are Veria, Sharza, Aislinn, Emili, Holly, and Renee.” As she named them, each woman looked up
In the Woods
Could something this wonderful and abnormal happen to her, and no one else? At last, Carrie thought, as “Fourth grade, Miss Ann” was called over the intercom. She grabbed her backpack and fought her way through the teeming hallway filled with excited children calling out goodbyes. Her first year at Crestview Middle School had been overflowing with new friends and experiences, but she couldn’t wait to be in the woods. After an excruciatingly long carpool wait, Carrie was finally at home. She rushed up the stairs, almost tumbling over her little sister. “Do you want to make potions with me?” Bridgette asked. Hurriedly, Carrie mumbled something about plans before flying over the remaining steps and changing like Superman into a T-shirt and shorts. She was about to rush out when she stopped to take a look at herself in the mirror. Had she changed during the school year? Big brown eyes, short curly red hair, and freckles all over her nose. Nope. She still was absolutely normal. Carrie sighed. At least she was going to the woods. If something special was ever going to happen to her, she always felt it would happen there. Only at the beginning of the forest did Carrie realize she had forgotten her shoes. The woods were so peaceful, with honey-toned light drifting gently through the laced treetops, and soft moss creating a pillow. After walking awhile, Carrie stopped to rest on the banks of a stream. She was about to take a drink, when she stopped herself. As inviting as it looked, she knew that in modern day only heroes in books could drink safely from streams. Regretfully, she was raising her head when she stopped as if she was a robot that had been abruptly turned off. On the mossy bank opposite Carrie was a perfect miniature house. It was the size of a notebook, and the height of one if turned sideways. A white fence surrounded the house and yard. Its walls were the color of butter and the texture of stucco. It had a pair of tiny front windows and six more scattered about the sides of the house. All the windows had wooden mullions the size of toothpicks. They were even filled with stained red, blue, green, and yellow glass molded together. A beautiful wooden door the size of a large pink eraser and intricately carved with climbing vines stood between the windows. Carrie also noticed a tiny brass handle that at one point must have been a regular button. The red roof was neatly patched together with what looked like hardened tree sap. A stone path winding around the house led to a grove of miniature trees, perfectly manicured and one even having a swing dangling from a branch! Near the back of the house, a rectangle of exposed ground with tiny sprouts peaking up in neat rows could only be a garden. Lying near it was a watering can the size of a thimble. The pathway also turned into steps leading down the steep, sandy bank to a tiny wooden dock tied to which a petite boat bobbed in the current. Carrie’s big eyes widened further as she drank the scene like a warm glass of milk before bedtime. Could she be dreaming? Could something this wonderful and abnormal happen to her, and no one else? Was this the difference she had been waiting for? Her mind swarmed with questions. She splashed across the stream to get a better look but stopped short when she noticed the flaming sun sinking steadily in the sky, casting shadows all around her. How far was she into the forest? She turned around but could not see the path she’d been following. Then she looked at the house where the evening sun through the glass was making tiny pictures on the moss. It was later then she thought; she had best be getting back. Besides, it was the beginning of summer, and she had weeks to explore. Something like that couldn’t just vanish, could it? Her parents were probably getting worried. Sadly, Carrie wiped her dripping feet on the moss and threw one last look over her shoulder before vanishing between the trees. * * * A small figure sitting in a nearby branch watched Carrie’s retreating back. The girl with the flaming hair had come, just as He’d predicted, but left so soon? Yet the figure was not worried. She’d be back. Oh yes, she’d be back. Tatum Schutt, 12Wilmington, Delaware Vaeya Nichols, 11Ozark, Missouri
