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  1. Hello, this is my YA novel, Max and the Spracketts. I worked on two novels for my MA, which i completed this year. Morrigan's Curse/Feathered Heart is one and this is the other. Both are complete--although I am making minor structural edits to both in light of some stuff I've been reading on here-- hahahha CHAPTER ONE Max Somewhere inside all of us is the power to change the world. (Roald Dahl, Matilda) The snow fell in thick curtains around him, the houses twinkling with warm Christmas lights and the skinny streetlamps glowing with misty orbs. He had no idea it was so late—he’d not missed a train in five years, and he wasn’t missing this one. Wiping sleet from his eyes while he ran, Max slipped on the pavement and stumbled toward a lamplighter. “OY! Watch it, lad!” the lamplighter yelled, as Max crashed into him. The man wobbled on his ladder, hands grasped tight as the ladder tilted away from the lamp post until he stood like he was walking on stilts. “Whoa, woa!” he called, voice deep with panic, like he was talking to an unbridled horse. “Gotcha!” said Max, clutching the grainy ladder. He was going to get a splinter from this. He set the ladder back against the lamppost. “Sorry, I didn’t…” Max stammered, the cold air like blades in his throat. “Sorry I didn’t,” the lamplighter mimicked him. “Alright, no need for that, I saved you, didn’t I!” “Why you cheeky little—” The lamplighter lunged at him, stale breath reeking of ale. Max ran, snow seeping beneath his collar, skin numb to the coldness, fear pushing him on. He had to get back to the train! His whole life was on that train! No way could he spend a month on the streets in Vienna. He’d freeze for one thing! How could he be so stupid? Getting carried away playing his violin. He couldn’t help smiling, though. He loved it when a crowd drew around him, listening to him weave his father’s old song out of the new strings he’d just bought. Then he’d left the violin under the bench next to the carousel. Stupid mistake. It was that hooded girl, ratting him out to the Scouts when he was doing an innocent bit of thieving from that fat rich guy. Rookie move, letting her distract him, and he was no rookie. How had he forgotten his violin? He could always leave the violin, if he did, he’d definitely catch the train before it left the station. Darn violin was all he had of his dad he couldn’t leave the thing. Even if no one stole it, the wood wouldn’t last a week in this snow. That girl! He saw her—actually saw her—point him out to the Scouts! She wasn’t one of the rich. Her clothes were too dull and drab. Plus, she had no nanny with her, and couldn’t be older than thirteen, maybe fourteen. So who was she? She had to be street kid. Someone needed to sit her down and explain the street code to her. Rule number one: no ratting each other out. Max dragged his hands over his face, his mind clouded with images of her. She’d distracted him, and he couldn’t understand why, which distracted him even more. He didn’t like it. All he could think of was her hooded figure. That and his poor cold violin! Oh and his train. He had to focus, focus on the train! Get the violin, catch the train! Get the violin, catch the train! Pausing to catch his breath. The thick snow blanketed everything—where was he? He dragged his fingers through his hair, stinging with the cold. He should have worn full gloves, not the fingerless ones. The air from his breath hardly warmed them. The wind picked up, parting the snow momentarily and offering a glimpse the Vienna Ferris Wheel, hanging in the sky like a giant spider's web. A grin cracked his cheeks. He knew exactly where he was—not far from the town square. His eyes stung from the cold. Popping the latch on his leather satchel, he took out his brass goggles. His heart tugged at the empty space where his violin should be. He opened the pouch to reveal an array of colored lenses, neatly stacked in individual silk sleeves. Flicking through them, he found what he was looking for: copper. Always, copper for twilight. Inserting the lenses into the goggles, he pulled them down and felt familiar relief. He could wear his copper lenses at night, and see as well as in daytime. This was one of the reasons he wore the goggles. The other reason? They were a gift, and those hadn’t come by him very often in his short life. The main main reason, though, was Max had gold rings around the pupils of his eyes, and if he didn’t wear the goggles, people got too excited around him. Many people wore goggles, but no one had gold rings around their pupils. No one he’d met, anyway. They helped him fit in. People stared at his inky black pupils ringed with gold—after all, why wouldn’t they? One time he got a mirror and stared at them for so long he could have sworn he saw flames. He preferred the goggles. He checked his watch – 7:45 – the train left at 8:00. He took off at a sprint. Not far now. The question nagged at him again – why would anyone bother to snitch on him to the Scouts? It didn’t make any sense. He was a nobody, a thirteen-year-old orphan who lived on a train. He wasn’t like one of those rich kids the Scouts could ransom out for cash. Who was that girl, anyway? He had a pretty good grasp on the street kids. He’d visited Vienna every two weeks for over five years, but her…he’d never seen her before. He’d always liked his stops in Vienna. This one he’d got new strings for his violin, long overdue, but they weren’t cheap. This stop had gone very wrong. His dad had said they’d lived here once, before his mother had died. Max couldn’t remember it, but he felt it. Felt the near-touchable familiarity of the streets and the smells. It was by far the best train route, because they traveled through the Carpathians. Max loved to thieve off the passengers, hit Budapest and go straight to the new Opera house where he and his dad would sit in the rafters and listen to the music. And that was his plan today. If he missed the train, where would he go? He entered a broad street lined with grand houses, each one with a flight of steps leading to ornate front doors with large windows. Inside, maids lit candles, and Christmas trees were strung with so much popcorn Max could swear the smell of butter filled the air. It looked cozy. Max hated cozy. He suspected it had something to do with the peaceful look on children's faces as they snuggled into their parent's arms. This was what he suspected. It was a feeling, not something he could see, touch, smell, or taste—thus, not something he could really believe existed. Feelings were ghostly, unreliable. Max didn't like unreliable. Unreliable didn't work in his world. He skirted the corner and saw the town square. Music flowed down the street towards him. All the streets leading off the square glowed, snow fell, lamplighters protected their flames, grim faces undeterred. And the square was lit up like a snow globe. The warm aroma of toasted chestnuts filled the air. Children laughed at clowns cavorting on the circular wall around the main fountain. Couples linked arms as they stood in line for the chestnuts baking in orange fires. Old couples wrapped against the cold sat on benches watching the merry scene and listening to street musicians play beautiful music for copper and silver Gulden. And there it was, sitting beneath a bench—his violin! With its smooth, brown wood, polished so often it felt soft like an old shirt could feel soft after a thousand washes until it felt like a fine garment. His violin was not a fine garment, but it was treasured. From near the carousel came a shout: “There he is!” Max looked up. It was one of the Scouts the girl had ratted him out to. There was a gang of them patrolling the square. Helpers of the law my arse, thought Max. What were the chances of running into them here. Perfect. Just perfect! He leapt over a chained fence, slid across the dirt, under the bench and snatched up his violin. “Gotcha!” Opening his satchel, he slipped the violin inside. No time to wrap it properly—right now he had to shrug off those Scouts and get on the train. “Get him!” yelled the tall one. Max rolled his eyes. That Scout never gave up. He was like a puppy with an old rag. The station was two blocks away going east. He had to try! At the end of the street, the bright domed ceiling of Wien Hauptbahnhof, Vienna’s Central Station, lit up the night. He was almost home. He ran down the wide two-way road. Outside, the station buzzed with those arriving, those leaving and those ready to make a quick korona carrying trunks. He knew the inside was no different. Without a second thought he leapt into the traffic standing between him and home. Carriages beeped and swerved, horses reared but Max dodged them all. Reaching the curb where the carriages lined up for passengers, he was tempted to snatch a suitcase as it was being loaded, but slipped on ice and narrowly avoided a clap round the head from a grim-looking cab driver. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the Scouts trapped on the other side of the road—he wanted to tease them, but had no time to waste. He ran to the entrance. The large clock hung above the doorway read 7:56pm, and the train was leaving at eight sharp. Stars peeked through the station’s domed skylight windows. Max craned his neck to see the Platform Board. He needed to know where he was departing from—there it was, Platform 16! He slipped into the crowd and let it carry him through mental tunnels towards the Platform area, slipping out when they reached Platform 16. Bursts of steam enveloped his ankles. Passengers emerged like specters, forcing him to sidestep out of their way. There were too many people blocking his path, he’d never make it to the train in time. His breath caught. There it was: his train, pulling out of the station. His only hope was to jump down onto the tracks of Platform 16 and run after his train. Taking a quick, courageous breath, he did just that, narrowly missing the tracks. "There he is!" Max felt his legs stiffen. Above him, on Platform 16, stood the Scouts. The scrawny one jumped onto the tracks, the other two stayed put. Max ran after his train, lungs burning, slipping and sliding on the icy tracks. The scrawny scout lunged for him but Max dodged to the side, sending him crashing to the ground. The hard ice was like a punch to the face but Max just winced and kept running. The tracks ahead glistened with ice. The train was just within his reach! He had to get alongside and find one of the ladders that ran up to the roof. The train hissed. Chugged. Slowly building momentum. Max was seconds ahead of the Scout. Steam gathered in clouds all around him. The sleek black side of the train beside him. The steam parted and he saw the ladder. Max broke into a sprint. The ladder inches from his grasp. The cold rungs bit his palms and fingers as he clutched them—Yes! He had it! A hand grabbed the back of his neck and yanked down hard. Max clung to the ladder, fingers white and firm, arm now wrapped through the rung. "I’ve got you!" It was the scrawny Scout, face burned from where he hit the tracks. The train let out a long whistle. The pistons fired harder, the wheels picking up speed. Max closed his eyes and clung on for all he was worth. The Scout’s sweaty hand slipped from his neck, only to grasp his ankle. Max kicked out and felt the hand, mercifully, release. “Yes!” he cried. "No!” "Hahah! Better luck next time!" Max laughed giving him a mock salute. “I’ll get you in Lemburg!” The Scout screamed. Clouds of steam quickly consumed his angry puce face. Max paled at the threat. Blimps allowed Scouts to travel quickly through the skies. It would be easy to find him if they decided to. But would they? He clung to their ladder. The train rushed beneath the sweeping arched tunnel of Vienna’s Central Station. A sigh escaped his lips when he felt the crisp night air. He’d probably be fine. Probably. The train lurched forward. Max scampered onto the roof and gripped the rails running along the sides. It was the throttle, releasing steam into the belly of the train. The train vibrated through his feet and up his legs, but Max stood firm as if he stood on solid ground. Relishing the wind in his face as the train thrust forward, he stole a glance over his shoulder and there she was: his Vienna, twinkling in the night. Max decided to sit down before he fell. Just for a moment—the same moment that swept over him every time he left Vienna. With his back to the city, he faced the approaching snow-capped peaks of the Carpathian Mountains. Tenderly, he withdrew his violin, the wood so tarnished it scratched against his chin as he tucked it in place. The chords strident and piercing as they twisted out of the warm wood. Max swayed to the familiar childhood rhythm his dad had played every day. His song. Their song. His mother’s song. Almost certain he could see the notes marching off into the sky. Max played until his fingers felt stiff with cold and he could play no more. "Until next time," he whispered, wrapping the violin in the cloth and packing it carefully in the satchel. Max dipped a hand into some unseen pocket and pulled out a greasy pack of chewing gum. Popping a stick into his mouth, he let out a sigh. Snowflakes fell heavy and fast, and he wiped them from his eyes. Relief flooded him. He’d made it. He’d made it back to his train. He’d made it home. For a moment, running through the streets, he’d lost everything. But he’d made it. And he’d found his violin. The train picked up speed. Time to move inside. Max got to his feet and ran. One destination in mind. Bounding over carriages and leaping across the divides, the rush of wind blinding, the clatter of steel wheels on steel tracks deafening. The front of the train was in view. Which meant he had to duck beneath the thick stream of smoke from the boiler room chimney. Ahead, he saw the hatch and skidded to halt next to it, blinded by smoke. But for what he needed to do, he didn’t need to see—he just had to be quick. The temperature plummeted, the farther they traveled from the city. Wrapping his fingers around the hatch’s frozen wheel, he fought to spin it open. Fat chunks of ice cracked and shattered. A hiss of steam belted him in the face. The hatch popped open. Before anything else could go wrong, Max swung through the hole. Closing the hatch behind him. Inside, he landed hard, but on both feet. He always hated how the drop was twice his height. He really had to fix a retractable ladder somewhere the guards wouldn’t find it, but that he could access with ease. The engine room was dark, but his goggles helped him snake his way around the back of one of the furnaces. The familiar din embraced him like an old comforter, with its endless clattering of steel wheels and the soft pulse of firing pistons. At the back of the furnace was a narrow walkway, barely wide enough for one person. With his back flat against the wall, Max inched his way along, careful not to touch the furnace’s scorching metal. He counted his paces. “One. Two. Three…” At three, Max stopped and felt the wall behind him until his hand found what it sought—a small handle set into the wall. He pulled forcefully and it moved only a fraction, but that’s all he needed to release the mechanism. The wall behind him hissed with steam as it separated into two sliding doors that slowly opened on a hidden room. “Home.” Max walked inside and pulled a level on his right. The wall hissed with more steam as it closed, sealing off the clamor of the engine room. “Ah, quiet. No need to wear you now old friends." He pulled off the goggles and placed them back inside his satchel, before hanging it on a hook. Max hadn’t always lived on a train, but it felt like he had. He knew every nook, hook, and baggage rack. There wasn't a place to hide, spy hole or quick exit he wasn't privy to. He had even found one or two 'special' places wide enough for his arm to enter carriages and swipe a quick bite to eat from unwitting passengers. He stepped through the dark towards an old lamp hanging from a pipe. He struck a match, igniting the oil. The flaming wick cast the room in a muddy light. The kind of light that summons dusty memories. He prodded them into the recesses of his mind and let his hand brush over his beloved books: Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, a Roget’s Thesaurus, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and a leather-bound copy of Greek Myths. A small yet mighty shelf. "Time to investigate the new passengers. But first, what to wear?" he smirked, pushing the Scout’s threat out of his mind. Maybe they would be at Lemburg, but maybe not. It would take them time to organize. He pulled hard on a rope above his head. A small trap door opened, releasing a shower of clothing—bloomers, starched shirts, beards, cravats, wigs, and boots. A mass collection of disguises. "Not today, thank you.” He muttered, tossing a corset aside. "Ah, you will do nicely!” He held up a scarlet velvet suit and struggled into it, yanking at the lace collar. Too tight. How did these bourgeois put up with it? Trussed up in tight suits and decorated in baubles made them easy pickings. He grinned. Always the best to steal from. Max slipped through the engine room and was out the door quicker than a wink.
  2. REBELRY- YA Science Fiction, American Royals meets Divergent Opening chapter - introduces main character, setting, tone, inciting incident CHAPTER 1 Summoned “. . . though we have toiled and emerged from the War victorious, now our labor truly begins. Today we grant our oppressors an amnesty they have not earned. We shall not exact vengeance, but they will learn to follow and serve. With wisdom, mercy, and compassion, we will build a magnificent world and show our oppressors that we can create paradise on Earth. And so, let it be shouted in every street, the Age of Man is no more. For I proclaim to you, the Age of Woman has begun!” Excerpt from General Roxana Darieos’ address to the Women’s Coalition Army New York City ruins, 22 August 2124 Dust from the pages of the twenty-second century chronicles tickled my nose. Its thick cover, warped by time, felt rough to my fingertips. As I soaked up our founding mother’s words, just knowing I was breaking rules made me giddy. Not that I went out of my way to read censored books, but my history tutor never shared these firsthand accounts of the Magnificent Revolution, and it could help me with my Grad Exam. As I read, I stretched myself long on the sofa like a cat, one foot landing up on the sofa’s back and the other resting on the seat cushion. Midnight pressed chilly on our French door that led to the east wing patio, but here in the library it was toasty. The fireplace radiated warmth with a sweet cedar scent. The fire crackled, and its sparks reflected in the bay window’s dark glass. Being cozy and safe inside with my nose buried in a book, while outside the air grew frigid, was a special sort of wonderful. And this book—whoa. I reread the passage and gasped. But this part couldn’t be true. Was this why the book was censored? “Ryver?” I called out. “Is it true that some women stood against the Revolution?” Across the room, the desk-high titanium hub spooled into active mode. Blue lights ticked up its sides, and the luminescent nectoliquid fountained from its crystal basin, swishing into a floating azure sphere. The sphere vibrated when the Ryver spoke in her deep motherly voice. “What a curious question, Miss Xandra.” “That’s weird, right?” “There is no historical record of any female opposition before, during or after the Magnificent Revolution. It did not happen.” “Then why would it be written here?” “Written where? Are you reading one of the censored books from your grandmother’s collection?” “Umm, I’m not sure?” I lied. “It’s not like Gamma’s books have big red stamps across their covers to indicate which ones I’m not supposed to read.” “I will have to send a note to the Governor.” I lifted my head and pleaded over the sofa’s arm. “Please, don’t. Do you really want to distract Mother when she’s at the Summit? Anyway, it’s for my studies. The Grad Exam is only three months away. It’ll be here before I know it, and history’s a huge chunk of it.” “Checking now on your latest performance chart.” Oh, Mother God. I dropped my head on the sofa’s cushion and buried my eyes under a pillow to escape. Its tassels made my nose itch. Sometimes I wished we had a basic Ryver hub that only spit out info, instead of a criterion hub with its Wisdom and Nurture built-ins. “As I suspected,” the Ryver said, “among sixteen-year-old girls you are rated at the ninety-eighth percentile in history studies.” Which meant I still had two percent to go. I pressed the pillow around my ears, trying to shut out the Ryver’s lecture. “If you’re concerned about your Graduation Examination, might I suggest that instead of focusing on your strongest subject, you may wish to shift your focus to your weakest—oratory. Most of the girls in your level have already completed the public speaking requirement.” The mere suggestion sent a chill through me. I shoved the pillow under my head. “I have three whole months until the exam. Plenty of time.” I tucked my nose back into the book. “If you’re experiencing anxiety about the speech . . .” The room went silent. I lowered the book to my belly. Weird. The Ryver never stopped in mid-sentence. BEHH-BEHH-BEEEEEE blared throughout the chamber. I jerked up. The emergency alert. My book hit the floor with a thunk as I rushed to the bay window and yanked the drapes closed, then hid behind a wing chair. In the case of imminent danger, it was protocol for the security team to flood our estate lawns with light, but it was still dark outside. “Ryver, what’s going on?” I started my breathing exercises. Breathe in-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four. “A guest has arrived at the estate, Miss Xandra. Madam Qiu is bringing her to you now.” I blew out my breath in a gust, and my shoulders dropped. “Since when is a guest an emergency?” Madam Qiu was Mother’s closest aid and protected the family like a Doberman. Normally, she’d educate uninvited guests to make an appointment during office hours. Not fire off an emergency alert and usher them into the family’s private wing in the middle of the night. “Your guest is an officer with the Arbiter Corp,” the Ryver replied. My back went rigid. “What?” I said too loudly. Now the alert made sense. And with Mother away, I had to greet guests. My stomach twisted into a painful knot. “Please tell me there’s time to run up to my quarters to change.” “I’m afraid not. They will be here any minute.” A noise came out of my throat that sounded like a half-throttled whinny. I spun back to the window to use it as a mirror. My leggers had a big stain on them, my shirt was from my brother’s closet, and when did my hair tie fall out? The Arbiter Corp would not be impressed with messiness or boyswear. I combed through my long brown tangles with my fingers. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to make my nose daintier or russet eyes less dull. And where were my shoes? Skidding through the chamber in socks, I checked the study table and Ryver hub, and along the shelves lining the walls, then circled back to the sofa by the fire. Ah ha. As I reached for my loafers tucked under our tea table, a high-pitched ping signaled that someone had entered the library’s archway. I popped up, slapping a smile on my face, with a shoe on one foot and the other held behind my back. Madam Qiu entered first, eyeing my hair and shoeless foot. I shot her a helpless shrug, then cranked up my smile for our guest. A tall woman in a cobalt blue uniform with gold buttons and shiny boots strode into our library holding the most erect posture I’d ever seen. Her hair was spun into a tight twist, not a wisp out of place. The woman’s magnolia-scented perfume bit into my nose with its tart bouquet. Her male guard cast a mountainous shadow. Madam Qiu’s gentle Pacifican accent and quilted overrobe masked her steely reserves. She displayed a soft smile and offered a gracious nod of her head, as if guests stopped by every midnight. “Miss Xandra, may I present Lieutenant Noma from Cyprus.” I tightened my smile. “Oh. Whoa, hey, all that way?” Cyprus? That made no sense. “Um.” I cleared my throat and tried to mimic Qiu’s gracious nod. “How do you do?” The lieutenant scanned me from tangles to toes. Her nostrils flared a fraction. Then she pulled out a silver scroll-tube with a hard wax seal. I hesitated to touch it. Clinging to my smile, I popped on my second loafer. “Lieutenant Noma, was it? Sorry, there must be a mix-up. Mother is at the Leadership Summit. In Cyprus. Where you came from?” “You are Miss Xandra Fallow?” the lieutenant said. “Of the East Atlantic Fallows?” “Yes?” The lieutenant thrust the tube at me. I accepted it gingerly and broke the seal. A slip of paper tumbled out. Paper? But paper was reserved for the highest degree of secrecy. 10 Matrona 2496 To Miss Xandra Fallow, by order of Her Serene Luminance. You will present yourself at Palace Darieos for a private audience with the Arbitrix Iliana Darieos. A slipjet is waiting at Providence City Skygrid Center to transport you to Cyprus. You are to leave immediately. Goosebumps spread across the back of my neck. Officially, as arbiter of the Grand Council, the Arbitrix served as the builder of consensus over the domains’ queens. But everyone understood that Arbitrix Iliana ruled the world. I passed the paper to Qiu before swinging back to the officer. “What’s going on?” Lieutenant Noma’s diction was crisp. “You’ve been summoned to meet the Arbitrix.” “Thanks for spelling that out. That was helpful.” I clamped my lips shut. Whoops. I pulled my smile back on. “Do you, maybe, have any idea why?” “It is not my duty to know,” she replied. Turning from the unhelpful titan, I huddled with Qiu, “Does Mother know about this?” “The Governor has been unavailable tonight,” she whispered. “She’s missing?” My heart thumped faster. Qiu rested a warm hand on my arm. “She’s been called into several ad hoc meetings this Summit. I expect it’s more of that.” I spun back to the lieutenant. “Did something bad happen to my mother?” “Last I saw, Governor Kalliope was as healthy as a tiger.” I blew out a long exhale. Okay. But I’d never met such a rude officer. Why the bad attitude? The guard cleared his throat. When Lieutenant Noma looked over to signal orders to him, a Divina Matrem pendant popped out of her collar. Oh. Its beveled diamond shape that contained a revolving number four symbolized the Temple of the Divine Mother. This Noma was a Femenina, a member of my mother’s opposing political party. “You’ve ten minutes to gather presentable attire,” the lieutenant said. “The journey will take an hour. Bring whatever personnel are needed to prepare you.” Madam Qiu propelled me through the archway and across the grand foyer while firing orders into her ryvulet—a device inserted behind the jaw that connected her to the Ryver. Mother’s adorners were coming along. Qiu too. But someone had to stop this dreadful mistake. The Arbitrix didn’t want me. The one time I’d met her it didn’t end well. I looked back toward the library where my Arbiter Corp escorts waited. They should be flying out of the archway any second, the lieutenant howling that it was all cancelled because the message belonged to a different girl. Any second now. Any second. The archway remained empty. I whimpered. Oh, no. I couldn’t go to Palace Darieos. They’d expect a governor’s daughter, and especially the heir-elect, to have mastered a strong posture and commanding voice by my age. I couldn’t even walk into a room of strangers without panic—I gasped. No-no-no. The Leadership Summit was still in session. “Qiu, how many people attend the Summit?” Qiu tugged me up the staircase. “Delegates include the global assembly of queens, governors, Sapphic ministers, ambassadors, and mayors. Also, their teams, a few husbands—” “A big crowd you’re saying? Like really, really big.” I dragged my feet on the stairs. Qiu slipped a supportive squeeze into her iron grip. “You’ll be fine, Miss Xandra.” But my heart was beating way too fast. Breathe in two-three-four. Mother God, someone was going to look awfully foolish when this mistake was sorted. Please don’t let it be me.
  3. Dragon Nightmare? Only two more centuries. I’m never going to make it. Quarter to midnight, six hours left. Kay Linda Taylor worried she wasn’t going to make it and then jumped when her mother came to check on her. Angrily she said, “Why are you up? You don’t have to worry about me, I can worry about myself. It’s my own fault I have to cram for this history test.” “You and Mary had fun taking care of Grandpop, before he died. There is more to life than A’s,” her mother said. “If you’re Mary, and are rich with a legacy, there is. But not me. If I want to go to an Ivy league school I have to get As. All As. But you wouldn’t understand because you don’t understand the value of a private school education.” “You’ve had straight A’s your whole life and this one class won’t break your record. Plus, I’m sure you’ll end up with an A.” Kay knew her mother wanted her to agree, but instead she was glaringly silent. “Ok, but don’t stay up too late. You need your rest.” “If I go to sleep now, not only will I fail, but all the stress will cause nightmares.” “Oh, honey. I worry. You are too young for all this stress. When this test is over, I want to go with you to your next appointments with Dr. Ong.” Traditional nightmares were child’s play, Kay’s were horrific. So, Dr. Ong, Kay’s therapist, who used her patented Lucid Dreams Therapy to teach Kay to control her chronic nightmares. In Kay’s nightmares she had learned to defend herself. In one she splashed jacuzzi water on visiting friends who turned to monsters melting them into smelly, black puddles. In another, a teacher threw Western Taipan snakes at her. Kay knew that one bite has enough venom to kill one hundred people in 30 seconds. She turned them into harmless corn snakes. One night, she was running and fell into a tank filled with tiny Irukandji jellyfish, whose venom causes excruciating pain. She turned them into Swedish fish and ate them. Last week, two T. rexes ripped her to shreds. While she lay on the ground in pieces bleeding out, they played tug of war with her large intestine. She pulled herself together, picked up a stick, and threw it miles away; the rexes ran off to fetch. Kay’s mother asked if she could get her a cup of coffee, but Kay gruffly told her to just go to bed. Her mother offered a kiss. Kay did not accept. When the door closed she felt guilty but instead of addressing the guilt she addressed her studies. Jarred by a loud sound, Kay bolted upright. She listened but heard nothing. She rubbed her eyes and picked up her phone. Two a.m. She realized she had fallen asleep and tried to find where she had left off in her History of the World text but was startled again by the noise, hurricane winds rushing through a barely open window paired with an electrical screeching so loud she could feel it in her spine. A shimmery light appeared across the room between the window and the closet, like thermal waves above the road on a hot summer’s day. Suddenly, the originator supplanted the shimmery light. That makes sense. I told mom this would happen if I went to sleep. She turned off her study lamp to focus the waning gibbous moon shining through the second story window on whatever had entered her room. It stood on the other side of her curtained four-poster bed, so she didn’t have a clear view, but the outline looked like a dinosaur. Kay smiled. A beastly representation of her history teacher Mr. Humbert, she thought. What should I do with this beast? She needed to know what this beast truly was and find out its intentions, which was difficult to see in the dim light. She tried to will the room brighter where the beast stood. When it didn’t work, she reached over and turned on the overhead lamp and adjusted it to dim with the remote. The beast was crawling toward her. As rounded the bedpost, she saw small, collared holes, close to the scaly skin on the side of its head reflected in her full-length mirror. It had a long jaw, horse-like, but flattened around the mandible, lizard-like. Inside the beast’s mouth large, sharp, white teeth reflected in the moonlight. It had two strong back legs and thinner arm-like legs in front. It stopped at the foot of her bed to look around the room, showing no obvious signs that it had seen her yet. One of its sharply clawed hands grabbed the bedpost as it came around to her side of the room. Kay saw wings connected to its broad shoulders and a ridge of triangular shaped plates that ran down its back. The arrowhead-shaped tip of its muscular tail whipped back and forth as the beast moved toward her. It saw her sitting at her desk, raised up on its knees, and bellowed in a thick, baritone voice “Where is Diseeodis?” Unbelievable, it talks. That’s different. Kay realized she had never dreamed of a talking animal. But if it were a manifestation of Mr. Humbert, it would, wouldn’t it? Because he never shuts up. She stood up, cleared her throat, gave a shrug, and in a calm and polite tone, said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know that person.” Remembering her manners, she added, “Uh, Sir.” Then she forced a small polite smile. Dr. Ong’s treatment taught her nightmare individuals were more manageable when treated with calm, polite, and self-control behavior. “Did you not activate the time-space re-fracturer opening the portal between the Dragon Dimension and the Human Dimension so that Diseeodis could enter?” the beast interrogated. “Do not lie to me, for I will reduce your home and all within it to ash before your lie is complete!” Kay shuddered. Nightmare characters had threatened her, and she learned to keep her composure, but this one seemed so real and so dangerous. Now, she thought, it couldn’t be a mental representation of Mr. Humbert. She wondered; what could have caused her mind to create a dragon? Then she remembered her mom had brought home an old album, Comedy Caravan, from the Thrift Store where she worked. It had a bunch of old guys doing funny radio skits. One skit, called St. George and the Dragonet, was a detective story about a cop arresting a dragon. “Well? I need your answer, human. Now!” The dragon shouted. She tried to turn him into a Whip tail. No luck. “Please, Sir, I’m telling the truth. This is the weirdest nightmare I have ever had. I don’t know this Diseeodis dude, and I didn’t open any dimensional portal. The only portals I know about are in video games. I’d like to help you find your friend, but I don’t know how to help.” “Diseeodis is many things to me but assuredly not my friend,” the dragon replied vehemently. He moved his green scaly face close to hers and peered into her eyes. She was startled by the smell of smoke and garlic on his breath. She’d never had a dream smell so real. It was unnerving to have this giant face with its impressive set of teeth so close to her face. After a long look, she saw his eyes soften. He stood up with a thoughtful hum, nodded, and said, “I sense truth, human girl.” His eyes darted back and forth as if struggling with a complicated word problem. Finally, he said, “I am Jiuristus. I am tasked, by Queen Regina to retrieve Diseeodis and take him home.” “Who are Diseeodis and Queen Regina. I have never heard of them,” Kay said. “Queen Regina is the ruler of Criloune and Diseeodis has come into this dimension without permission and must be returned to the Dragon Dimension as soon as possible.” After another thoughtful pause he said, “Right then, there is nothing for it except to take you back with me. I think that would be the best course of action and the only one to satisfy the Queen.” Kay tried to change the beast into a large talking rabbit. Still nothing. Then she tried to get it to say, “Just kidding. Go back to what you were doing, and I will go home.” She had no control. A nauseating fear soured her stomach. This is a nightmare. It must be a nightmare. If it weren’t someone would have heard the noise and come by now. Should I run for the door? Could I even make it to the door? Being grabbed by those claws would hurt. But, as Dr. Ong says, nightmare can’t hurt you. But they do like to mess with you. When I open a door there will be another scary nightmare thing to deal with like an endless pit. Oh, great, now there will absolutely be an endless pit. Kay tried to clear her mind and think of something pleasant. Field of flowers, field of flowers, field of flowers. She decided to play along. “OK, you want to take me back. Take me back, where?” “I must take you through the portal to Criloune in the Dragon Dimension,” said Jiuristus. Dr. Ong said dreams are where movie ideas come from. She thought she’d like to see this in the theater, but she didn’t enjoy being in the scene. “Well, I don’t want to go with you. Is there another possibility? I mean it sounds like an adventure, but you should know I am not an adventurous person.” Kay said. Jiuristus’ head tilted, as if recalculating. “No, I cannot think of any other satisfactory course of action. If I leave you here, Queen Regina may think you have deceived me to protect Diseeodis. Plus, you may have information, even information you are unaware of. The Queen can extract such information, and it could give us the key to find Diseeodis,” said Jiuristus. “How will she extract information? Torture?” “No, not torture. Queen Regina can tap into your subconscious.” Finding the polite façade ineffectual, she tried a different strategy. Kay screamed, “Well, I am not going. So there!” she said balling her fists and stamping her foot. “Please, human girl. Please control yourself.” “I can’t go. I have a very important test tomorrow.” “You will be back before tomorrow. When you return, you will have missed no time. Unless, of course, you are misrepresenting the truth, in which case the temporary dimension will close without you, and you will not be returning,” Jiuristus assured her. “Well, I’m not lying!” she said, stamping her foot again. Feeling the boards under feet and the rush of adrenaline made her question the reality of the situation. She rejected reality and embraced the dream. “And I’m not going with you,” Kay said. “If you do not go your whole human race could be in grave danger. Diseeodis has come to the your dimension to take revenge for the slayings of the fifteenth century, and he must be found and taken back to our dimension before he can hurt anyone or everyone.” “What? The slayings of the fifteenth century. That was a long time ago. Why now?” Kay asked. “He wants to be King, and he thinks this will make him a hero,” Jiuristus said. “I am not asking you to help us catch him. I am only taking you back in case you can help with information that will help us catch him.” “OK. Let’s say I go with you. Will I be hurt?” Jiuristus’ face softened. “You will not be tortured, and you will not be hurt. You have my word, human girl. No one will hurt you, as long as you tell the truth.” “What if I just run, run to my parents, right now?” Jiuristus looked astonished. “I assumed you understood the state of things because you did not run when I showed myself. That is also why I assumed you were the operator.” He searched her eyes. “You really have no knowledge of dimensional laws? Interesting. If you had run, you would have frozen in the temporary dimension. Go, see for yourself, but stay close to me, or you will get frozen in time.” She ran into the hall and saw her mother and father coming out of their room. She called them. And they shouted “Kay,” in unison just before she felt the dragon’s hand on her shoulder pulling her backwards. As she fell, she heard Jiuristus say, “You got too far away and froze. I had to pull you back into the temporary dimension.” “I didn’t freeze. I saw my parents. See, right there. They spoke to me,” Kay said. Kay pointed at her parents and saw that her father was reaching out to her and her mother was tying her robe. But neither moved. “They were coming to save me,” Kay said under her breath. “You were outside of my dimensional bubble and fully in the Human Dimension. I pulled you back. Please do not get too close to them again. When you reanimate them and if they reanimate inside my dimensional time bubble and see me then I will have to take them to Criloune with us. With so many humans affected by this situation, I am not sure you all will be able to return.” “So, you are saying if I go, it will help save the Human Race, and I will be back before tomorrow but if they go, we will not be able to come back ever? That seems a bit random.” “You must take my word. Or you could reanimate your parents, I can take all of you, and we can see if you can return.” She wanted to claw him, but she was afraid he would claw back. Through the bedroom door Kay could see her father’s vintage alarm clock, on the nightstand which usually buzzed loudly and showed time by flipping the hours and minutes. But it was quiet, and the minute's flap was stuck midway between 2:00 and 2:01. Her hope that she would wake her parents and have this all end up in her sleep journal was waning. Kay ran to her brother Tom’s room. He was in a deep sleep and the family cat, Muscipula, was at the end of the bed frozen in the act of jumping off. Kay took a defeated breath then turned to Jiuristus. “I don’t understand what’s going on. But I want it to stop.” “Human girl, for you to return things to normal, you must come with me to see the Queen. She will make an assessment and may more fully explain what is happening. But the most important thing is that we go now if you want to get back before your big day tomorrow.” Dredging up every bit of self-control she had left she said, “My name is Kay Linda Taylor, not human girl, and you can call me Kay. What did you say your name was, Jee-your something?” Kay smiled to herself when she heard the phrase. He told her his name was Jiuristus. She tried to repeat it but stumbled. He told her to call him Jiuri. “OK, Jiuri. You promise to bring me back before tomorrow and my family will be, OK? And I will not be hurt?” “Yes, Kay, if you are telling the truth, I can assure that you will be returned safely to your family and that none of you will be harmed in any way.” He nudged her toward her room. As they faced the distortion, ready to step through, Kay asked if his ‘word’ was any good. “It seemed like you were here to kill me when you came into my room,” Kay said. “I did not intend to scare an innocent, I meant to scare the human who helped Diseeodis open the portal to your dimension. I will stand by my ‘word’ and will do everything in my power to return you to your home,” Jiuri said and his supportive, kind face made her unwittingly assured of his sincerity. “Wait,” Kay said. She turned up the overhead light, went to her closet, and closed the door. When she reappeared, she had changed into jeans, a light blue t-shirt, a cardigan, tennis shoes, and a jacket. “I don’t want to go through a portal to another dimension in my PJs.” As they prepared to enter the portal, Jiuri reached out for her hand. It was warm and soft. His long bulbous digits had claws the size of her fingers, which, because of the cautious way he held her hand, didn’t poke or scratch. Hand-in-hand with Jiuristis reminded her of crossing the street with her mother when she was little. But, unlike her mother’s, the dragon’s thumbs had no center joint and was conspicuously smaller than the other three fingers. Her gaze followed the arm up, up, up. In the now lit room she saw that most of his body was covered in iridescent green scales, each no larger than the head of a tack. His chest scales were three times larger, teardrop-shaped with a raised center shaft from which a rainbow of colored lines extended, like feather barbs, and soft white down peeked out here and there. She wanted to touch them to see if the scales would separate like feathers. Jiuri’s wing feathers were long, green, and red, tipped with royal blue. In sum, a cross between a lizard or snake and a bird. She thought, maybe I should use Ong’s dream trick to turn him into a real bird-snake or maybe I should try the pinch test. The pinch test she’d learned long before Dr. Ong nightmare therapy, and she knew that if she felt the pinch she this was not a dream. Kay decided not to try either. She thought it best to keep believing it could be a dream, if only to prevent fear from taking control. Because if this was real, she would have to accept the fact that she was leaving her home and family to go to an unknown place, a place unimaginable on any map, with a beast by means of an unknown transportation. Her eyes and nose pinched, and she could feel clouds gathering in her eyes preparing for a storm. Her hands were clammy, and her stomach felt as if it had flipped. If she couldn’t control the environment, she would have to control herself. She blinked the tempest away, took a deep breath, and smiled, encouraging herself to enjoy the story her mind was creating as they stepped into the distortion.
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