From The Ward

The angels. They're coming. I can feel them now. They're everywhere: surrounding us all. They're going to come here one day. I don't know the day, or the hour, or even the week or month. All I know is that every day they get closer. Every time you close your eyes and take a breath, they creep closer to you and everyone else. They're hungry; can you hear them? They're practically licking their lips.

Some people think angels are supposed to be benign, with halos and harps and good news. They haven't met The angels. They will never know what they truly are- not until it's too late. You and I, though, we can take precautions. We know what is coming. We can do something about it. Help me. I need help.

Just let me out of this cage, let me out of these bonds, and we can run from the angels together. We can come up with a plan that will save the race and save us. We can run together and be safe and not worry about the angels. Please, please just let me out. I need to be free. I can't stand this any longer.

They told you I'm crazy, didn't they? They're wrong. They can feel the angels, too. They can hear them. I've seen their faces when I talk about the angels. They're as frightened as you are. As I am. As anyone who knows the danger truly should be. Can't you see, just standing there is doing nothing? Helping no one! You're no good if all you can do is stand there and look at me like that. I know it sounds crazy, but just listen. Listen.

You can hear them, too, can't you?

So let me out. Let me out! I have to stop the angels. Every time you blink! They're coming closer! Can't you feel them? They're practically breathing down your neck. They scare me. I need to get out of here, I need to get away, I need to figure out a way to stop them. I need to run from them! Please...please...help me.

The angels are coming.

Final

Final.

The very word brings fear to a college student's eyes and trembling to his knees. It brings aching to his hand. It produces a migraine and nightmares for a week.

It is the final word, the final grade.

College students either don't sleep at all or dream of sleeping through finals. They know that the grade they receive for this, their final assignment, may decide their future forever.

Food is a rare luxury. Any free moments a student has are spent worrying about finals or trying to remember the answer they forgot. Every word said in class leading up to a final seems of utmost importance- perhaps the difference between failing and passing.

Students who typically sleep through class set their alarms an hour early, just to make sure they can hit the snooze button and still make it to class on time to take the biggest test of the year.

Teachers grin evilly, knowing that they hold all the power. Students cower before them on Finals Day. There is not escape.

Homework is neglected for studying. Assignments are failed, but no one cares as long as they are studying for the final.

Meals are skipped. Notebooks are seen on everyone's lap. Drinks are barely touched, seeing as students don't have a free hand. They are occupied with books, pencils, and notes.

Computers slowly disappear, and are replaced by pages and pages of printed notes, usually accompanied by a highlighter in one of an assortment of bright, garish colors.

There is no safe place. No rest.

Sleep? Who does that during this most stressful of weeks?

Finals.

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

Instant Replay

The net swung with the impact of repeated bashings. The crowd was on their feet, cheering wildly, and yet, to Kaley, everything was still and silent. The players seemed to move in slow motion toward the rotating ball, bumping, setting- here it came, rotating slowly, white and perfect. High enough to spike, low enough to tip. In a split second, Kaley had to decide. Three steps- left, right left- pow! The ball suddenly flew into fast descent and landed on the floor on the other side of the net. The other team groaned and, without warning, the yells and cheers of the crowd washed back in to Kaley's ears. She stood tall, jumping and cheering with the rest of the team. One point more and they would win.

Whoever says volleyball isn't tough, Kaley thought, should watch one of our games.

The after party was amazing. All the players were in highest spirits. The game had been close, but they had managed to win by two points exactly. The only thing left now was celebration, and everyone was doing a great job at that. Only Kaley felt truly out of the celebration. She was happy, yes. They had won, yes. But still the thought of the last point weighed on her. It hadn't seemed right; something had gone wrong. But what?

The last point replayed in her mind. She saw herself going up and up toward the top of the net. As a short player, it was hard to block, but she was one of the best players on her team, and so was expected to at least try. The ball had been coming down, circling in the air slowly, almost as if it was waiting for her to clear the net. When it finally did connect with her hands, it did go straight down- but on Kaley's side of the net. Kaley had swung her arms wildly and only just managed to get the ball back up in the air. The setter had dived for the ball, which was only a couple feet off the floor, and pushed it up just enough for Kaley to get under it and free-ball it back over the net.

It was the other team that should have gotten that point, but it was as if they were all frozen, amazed at what had happened. The ball went high, plenty high enough for a player to get under it. And yet, somehow, it had fallen to the ground, touched by only one player, who dove for it at the last second.

Kaley smiled. Perhaps it wasn't so big a mystery, then. The other team had been in awe of the quickness with which Kaley and her teammate had acted. That had to be it.

Either way, they had won. They had.

Fair and square.

The Club

"The weight of this situation is really pulling me down here, guys."

"I know. Totally."

"I mean, she's turning eight! That means we have to include her in our eight-only club. I don't want her to be in our club. We made it eight-only just so that she couldn't join!"

"Yeah. Why couldn't she like, turn eight next year, after we make it a nine-only club?"

"Totally."

The situation was indeed grave. Charlotte, the most dumb girl in the world, was going to be eight soon. And she was going to want to join our club. We had started the club a couple months ago, my two friends and I. We were all eight, and we all had birthdays in the same month, so there was no problem thinking of a club that would keep her out and us safe from her. Now, though, we had a problem. She was eight- and we were doomed.

The next day at school, Charlotte bounced up to us and announced, "I'm in your club now. I'm eight!"

Like we didn't already know.

"Yeah, but Charlotte, we..." I stalled. What were we going to do to keep her out of the club?

My buddy Ryan stepped in. "We're redesigning the club. It's not going to be official for a couple of days. We're making drastic changes. We can't tell you what they are though."

"Totally. They're like, top secret and stuff." Good old Alison.

"Well, whenever you get it ready, I'm totally in it. I'm eight now."

Thank you, Captain Obvious. (Lee Dumb.)

That night, Ryan, Alison and I were thinking hard. What on earth could we do to keep dumb Charlotte out? We were wracking our brains.

Then it hit me. Actually, it hit all of us. I think we were probably all staring at the calendar.

We all talked at the same time: "The club has to be November-birthdays-only!"

"Only November birthdays should be allowed!"

"We all have to share the same birthday month!"

We all stared at each other.

We are brilliant sometimes.

Homework: The Simple Solution

Alone in your room?

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It's the only thing you will never want to finish!

Try some today!

Some side effects include:

Sleeping well at night

Good grades

Nice teachers

Free weekends

More relaxing down time

Patient Problem? Part 2

First dates are awkward at the best of times. Hardly knowing someone can go one of two ways; it can lessen the awkward air, or it can make the awkwardness so thick you can slice it with a fork. With David, however, there wasn't a single dull moment. Airica was kept on her toes and laughing all through dinner. In the movie theater- an unexpected treat- Airica was shushed several times by other viewers for her sudden, inexplicable bursts of laughter. She claimed later that David had been whispering riff-track-worthy sentences to her, but of course the disgruntled others really didn't care what she said. It wasn't until David dropped her off at home that things really began to seem like a first date- awkward and silent. David could only stare and smile. Airica looked at him and smiled back, suddenly shy and hesitant.

"You are so beautiful."

"David..."

"I mean it. You are. I've never met anyone like you."

"David, I've only known you for one day."

"But I've known you for weeks. Ever since you patched me up...I've...I've been following you, Airica. I've gone to the hospital every week since the accident. Only two of those visits were for follow ups. The others were to see you. I got a job near the hospital. I stay late and get there way early to see you. I watch you on Tuesdays. I know they're your days off. I want to spend every minute for you. I think you're amazing. Airica...I think you're in love."

"David-!"

"Just listen. It's true. I really do believe that I have found the one. I think you're it. I love you, Airica. I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know you better. Please let me."

Airica stared at him, suddenly shocked and scared. "David, I had a good time with you. I really did. But...you've been following me!?"

David nodded, a small smile on his face.

"You can't- you can't do that. That's not right. That's stalking someone. You could- I don't know, but...why did you do that? Why didn't you just talk to me first?"

"I wanted to get to know you when you're around other people before you were you around me. I know how you act all the time now, and I love it. Please, Airica. Please." David knelt and pulled a ring out of his pocket. No case, just a single ring. "Airica, I truly do love you. Please, marry me."

Patient Problem? Part 1

Tuesdays were the only days Airica truly had to herself. Every other day she was fully dedicated to her job. She worked almost ceaselessly. Being a doctor at the biggest hospital in the United States was taxing, and there was a constant need for her skills. Every day, Airica worked nine-hour shifts with no break, took an hour to eat and get a short nap, and then took on another ten-hour shift before heading home to sleep for the remaining four hours of the day, only to head back to the hospital for another shift.

Tuesdays were predominantly filled with sleeping and catching up with her few friends and her family. She loved her job, yes, but it was hard work, and she loved being able to rest and slow down for a whole day. It was during one of these blissfully calm Tuesdays that Airica met David. Airica had gone to a small, locally owned coffee shop to relax and read for a bit. David sat down opposite her at the two-person table and stuck out his hand.
"Hey, I'm David. What are you reading?"

His voice was deep, and a British accent was obvious in his speech. His face was jovial, full of life and purpose. Airica put her book down, surprised at the suddenness with which David had addressed her.

"I-I'm Airica. Nice to meet you. I'm reading...um..." She stole a quick glance at the spine of the book, suddenly forgetting what it was she had been reading. "Oh. I'm reading 'Les Miserables,' by Victor Hugo. He's brilliant!"

David looked impressed. "Who knew that doctors liked such ancient books? I thought all you people read was surgical magazines and thank-you letters from patients."

Airica blinked. "What? How did you know I'm a doctor?"

David laughed, an amazing and sincere laugh. "Well, that's probably due to the fact that you stitched me up after I was hit by that truck. Remember that? My car got clipped and I spun out, hitting my head splitting it pretty badly."

Airica smiled. "Yeah, I do remember that now. Wow, that was you? I guess you look a little different with a healed forehead."

"All thanks to you." He smiled.

Airica blushed. "You don't have to thank me."

David winked. "Didn't have to. Wanted to. And I was wondering...you want to go to dinner? Say, in an hour?"

Exiled

Four years. That's how long I was to be away. Exile, my friends and I nicknamed it. Of course, then, we thought it was innocent and for a good, wholesome purpose. It was then that we ourselves were innocent.

During the first few months of my 'exile,' I kept a note pad with me and took notes of the wonders of the new territory. Every week I wrote a letter to my friends, telling them of everything I saw and learned. As princess and soon-to-queen, I learned as much as I could of my people and their loves and interests. They told me of the coming rains, the drought that had killed so many crops, their families, their relatives who had gone to fight in the last Great War. They told me everything, and I listened, loving them and everything they did for the kingdom.

After a couple of months, all of my friends wrote back. They all had great news- the war was nearing its end, we had won the last battle, and the King, my father, had been rumored to ask after me. Perhaps I was to be brought back! The thought cheered me. To see my friends, my family, and my home again! Such a wonderful thought!

It wasn't until four months later that I received another letter. This one was from my best friend, Ann. She wrote of bad news; the war was stretching on, showing no sign of stopping; we had lost several battles and skirmishes; the King had been mortally wounded in battle and it was doubtful that he would recover. The next in line for the throne was myself, but Ann said there were whispers that my cousin, Charles, would challenge me and my family to claim the throne. He wanted to rule.

It was another year before I learned what had taken place in my homeland: My father had died. Charles had taken over the throne and executed everyone who supported me. Ann had fled, and was now living with me. Charles sent me an official edict- I was to remain in exile. If I returned, I was to be executed.

I had a duty, however, to my country. To my people.

Today

Yesterday won’t fade away

Tomorrow always creeps up

Today is the day today

And yet today is today

Yesterday is history

Tomorrow a mystery

Today is ours for taking

And so today is today

Yesterday was simply that

Tomorrow is who knows what

Today is worth living for

Because today is today

So since today is today

We should live for all we’re worth

We can lift our hands to God

And just say thanks for today

Hellena Foundation

Flight.

That is what every human secretly (or not secretly) wants to do. We crave wings of any kind. We find fascination in birds soaring high above the tree-tops and wish desperately that we could be like them. That we, too, could fly with such ease and weightlessness. That we could touch the clouds and not be bothered to mind the affairs of the world. That we, like the birds, could go where we please when we please.

Yet we all know this is unattainable. We all know it will never in a hundred years happen.

But it can.

Only a short time ago, the first plane, the aeroplane, was invented. It held people above the ground and, though not as efficient as could be, it pushed us over the surface and sent us to new places. Humans invented spacecraft, soaring to new heights every time a trip is made. Science is rapidly advancing.

So what is to stop us from having real wings? Wings of our own? What is to stop us from turning humans into their own sort of bird?

Nothing but ourselves.

So the Hellena Foundation was set up. The foundation that will change the human race as we know it forever.

Teens are brought to the facility- a tiny island, dedicated to research and development, disguised as a school so that no one would get in the way of its science. The teens undergo scientific and medicinal tests to discover which type of super-human they would be best suited to.

Then they become super.

Every teen comes to the island a volunteer. There are no more than three hundred teens at a time. After each becomes something more, they are moved to another corner of the island, but still attend classes and keep a steady schedule. They try to blend with other teens, as well as others like themselves. Everything about their physique is the same, apart from two or three small differences.

The island has become populated with teens, morphs, hergs, and other creatures that defy definition yet are incredible and wonderful to behold. Each is amazing and different.

No two are the same.

Flight.

Some are granted this.

Only the chosen few retain it.

Writing Wind

Writing the wind. That's what we called it in those days. Not riding, which would have been an adequate name for what we did, I suppose. Oh, no, we called it- and it was- much more than just that. We rode the wind, true, but we wrote it as well. We were the masters of the wind. We told it which way to blow. We told it where to take us, and how to handle our luggage. It was our home, our refuge. We were the wind people, and what we did was as important to life as was food. In fact, we helped the food. We brought the clouds full to bursting with rain; we swept the cold away. We kept the land thriving.

When the Summir Clan moved to this world, however, all that was changed. We became nomads, with no wind. We traveled restlessly on bare, broken feet, wandering aimlessly and searching, always searching. We thought the wind would return to us once it realized how cruel the Summir people were- harsh and unforgiving, brutal and fierce. But the wind didn't come, and the Summir people did not care about our lands or our peoples. We were left with no rain, little respite, and no help from the wind, which we once shaped with our own hands and our own minds.

We became people of the earth. We had been thrown out of our Eden, so we tried and tried again to form a new one. Without the wind, it was hard. We had to do everything with what we had, without aid, and without the helping lift of the wind by our side. We became low, and we stayed that way until we saw we had been waiting for.

The wind returned, and we rose up with it against the Summir people.

Shadows Rising

The shadows of this land are long and darker than any seen before. They have grown so over the last year. Ever since the quest for the orb failed, the darkness has kept closing in, getting heavier every year.

The man kept his head down the whole time, not even opening his mouth, but instead pointing to what he wanted to order. His eyes were hidden by his cap, casting them in shadows.

When he left, he placed a $20 on the counter and left without change. As soon as he walked out the door, he glanced back once. The waitress saw a glimpse of the face he had been hiding- and nearly screamed. His eyes were completely black. His mouth was rimmed by a blue-black circle. He smiled at her and it seemed as if black mist seeped from between his teeth- which were nearly completely black.

He was a Shadowlord.