C.M. Selbrede's Blog, page 8

Starlight #1: Nebula

Starlight is a series I started writing for fun in 2016, written in the “style” of a comic book.  As such, this is not my best writing, but it’s something I had fun doing.

“Stars in His Eyes, Pt I: Nebula”

Cadmus (Narration): I’ve been told I was born, December 7, 1999 in a hospital in the nearest city.

A hospital is shown, from the hallway. There are sounds of a woman crying out, and then somebody says “Its a boy!”

Cadmus: They tell me my name is Cadmus Oliver Way, and that I’ve been raised in this small, small town for my whole life.

A small, midwestern town is shown, filled with farms.

Cadmus: This is the only birth I remember.

The panel is dark. Voices say “Cadmus?” and “Dude, you okay?” A circle of light appears, and a group of concerned boys looking down at the camera in football uniforms becomes visible.

Boy: Coach, he’s up.

The kids part as an older man kneels down and extends a hand to the camera.

Coach: Way, are you okay? Can you hear me?

Full page shot of Cadmus for the first time, a kid with messy black hair and confused brown eyes, being offered a hand by the coach with the group of kids behind him. On this page, Cadmus says:

Cadmus: Who are you?

Boy: Hey you serious–

Other Boy: Nah, he just joking–

Coach: Quiet, both of you!

The coach kneels down and stares into Cadmus’ eyes.

Coach: Son, do you remember me?

Cadmus: No.

Cadmus: No.

Cadmus: I couldn’t remember anything.

Cadmus: They took me to the doctor’s office, telling me I had a concussion. The coach seemed upset- he talked about needing me for a game against the Iron Men. I wasn’t sure what that meant. I would later find out they were a football team, as were we- the South Ridge Hill Hawkeyes.

The doctor finishes inspecting Cadmus, and turns to his concerned parents. His father is a rough looking man, and his mother is a quieter looking woman.

Doctor: It is strange, I’ll tell you that. Besides his loss of memory, it seems to me like he’s in peak condition for a boy his age.

Cadmus: How old am I?

His father shares a look with the doctor.

Cadmus: It was a simple question.

Father: How long will it last, Doctor?

Cadmus: Great, ignore me. That’s cool.

Doctor: We have no way of knowing. *she places a hand on his father’s shoulder* I’m sorry. It could be forever.

Cadmus: …

A tear slips down the father’s cheek. His mother reaches out and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Mother: It will be okay, Michael. He’s still our son.

Cadmus watches, looking detached.

Cadmus: Am I, though?

Cut to a farmhouse.

Cadmus: We returned to what was apparently my home after a few days at the hospital. As far as they could tell, my concussion was gone, but my memory-loss remained.

Cadmus stands in his bedroom, looking around.

Cadmus: Okay…

Cadmus picks up a framed picture of himself and some friends he doesn’t recognize.

Cadmus: These pictures, this room…

Cadmus: *whispers* They’re not mine.

Off-panel voice*: Hey, Cad!

Cadmus turns, looking shocked.

Cadmus: Who–?

The newcomer is revealed as a teenage boy with a very short haircut.

Boy: I saw your folks pull up! The Cadster is back!

Cadmus: Who is the Cads-

Cadmus: Oh, I’m the Cadster

There is a panel of an awkward silence.

Boy: You still don’t remember me?

Cadmus: Should I?

Boy: Bro.

Cadmus: *incredulous* Bro?

Boy: Seriously, you don’t remember anything about me?

Cadmus: He looks like a Josh.

Cadmus: Josh?

Boy: *shakes head* I’m your neighbor! Park? Parker?

Cadmus: So not Josh.

Cadmus: Not ringing any bells.

Parker: So you can’t remember the time we snuck into that club?

Cadmus: No.

Parker: Or the time we both asked out the same–

Cadmus: No.

Parker: Or–

Cadmus: I feel like you’re not really getting this.

Parker: …

Parker: I know just what will help jog your memory.

Cadmus: Please don’t be another baby picture, please don’t be another baby picture…

Parker: Booze!

Cadmus: Beg pardon?

Parker: There’s a party at my place tonight. You’ll feel better once you’re reeeeal drunk.

Cadmus: I don’t think that’s how that works.

Parker: My boy Cadmus never turns down a beer–

Cadmus: *upset* Well, I’m not your boy.

Parker: Hey, I get it, you’re heads a little funky from that awesome play from the other day. I mean, it was sweet. That quarterback was so dumb, man. I–

Cadmus: He went on like this for a bit.

Panels are shown of Parker talking to Cadmus, as Cadmus gets progressively less interested.

Cadmus: And by a lot I mean forever.

Cadmus: (Seriously, football is not that interesting).

Panel of Parker leaving as Cadmus waves goodbye.

Parker: Seriously dude, be there!

Cadmus: But finally he left, and it was just me and my thoughts.

Cadmus walks up the stairs back to his room.

Cadmus: My parents said they had work, but part of me suspected that they were just trying to get away from the fact that their son didn’t know who they were anymore.”

Cadmus enters his room and faces the mirror.

Cadmus: What a douche. Who forgets his own parents?

Cadmus squeezes his eyes shut, and a tear trickles out.

Cadmus: Who would do something like that?

Cadmus: I don’t know who I am.

Scene change- the starry void of space. Cadmus drifts, his eyes shut.

Cadmus: What–Where–

His eyes fly open.

Cadmus: What the–

Around him, light zips, forming strange geometric patterns. Cadmus watches, terrified as they form a sort of box around him. Tentatively, he reaches out and touches one of the lines of light. His hand glows a deep blue with stars inside.

Cadmus: Agh!

Cadmus withdraws his hand, and we briefly see the stars reflected in his eyes.

Cadmus: I don’t understand what’s happening.

A shape forms in front of Cadmus, humanoid, its skin the same as Cadmus’ hand had glowed.

Strange Being: You… will… pay…

Cadmus’ eyes fly open for real- it was a dream. He is sitting on his bed, still dressed.

Cadmus: Crap! I fell asleep.

He looks over at the time. It’s 9:00 PM.

Cadmus: This is around when Parker said the party would start.

Cadmus hesitates.

Cadmus: You wanted to connect with your real life, Cad. This is how you do that.

Cut to Cadmus locking up his home, looking nervous.

Cadmus: Here goes.

As Cadmus walks away, a weak voice comes from the cellar doors.

Voice: Help… me…

Cut to the party. Cadmus is standing there, awkwardly, as everyone parties around him.

Cadmus: This is crazy.

Camera cuts to Parker, who is downing a huge jug of liquor.

Crowd: Chug! Chug! Chug!

Cadmus: They’re destroying themselves and they don’t even see it.

Parker falls to the ground, and starts throwing up.

Cadmus: They’re burning out.

Close up on Parker.

Cadmus: Their stars are going out, but they don’t even care because the explosion was so breathtaking.

Cadmus looks horrified. A pretty girl approaches him.

Girl: Hey, Cad! Good to see you’re back!

Cadmus: Great, another one.

Cadmus: Uh, I’m sorry, I don’t know if you’ve heard–

Girl: You can’t remember me, right?

Cadmus: Nope. *rubs back of neck*

Girl: I’m Eliza. We… dated.

Cadmus: We did?

Cadmus: We did?

Eliza: Ha, yeah. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a big thing. You moved on to Nala pretty quickly.

Eliza motions to a girl, who is dancing provocatively and wearing an extremely fashionable yet skimpy outfit. She catches Cadmus’ eye, and blows him a kiss.

Cadmus: Please, no.

Cadmus:…okay.

Eliza: I know everyone’s all freaked out that you lost your memory but– I mean– that seems like its fixable, you know what I’m saying? Not like what happened to Abby.

Cadmus: Abby?

Eliza: Oh, uh… Abby was a girl in our grade until a few months ago. She was a friend of yours back in middle school.

Cadmus: What happened to her?

Eliza:…

Eliza: She committed suicide last year.

Cadmus:…oh.

Eliza:…yeah. It was something.

Cadmus:…

Cut to the exterior of Parker’s house, hours later.

Cadmus: They all burn out, like stars. Was I ever like them? Did it take the destruction of my mind for me to value it?

Cadmus is helping a drunk Parker down the stairs.

Parker: I gotta say bye… nice thing to do…

Cadmus: And then I think I figure it out. This is a gift. It has to be. A wake-up-call, to keep me from becoming like them.

Nala waves goodbye to Cadmus flirtily.

Nala: Bye Cadmus!

Cadmus: Bye…

Cadmus: I think it all makes sense.

There are a few scattered screams. Cadmus turns to see a car hurtling off the road, towards him. Cadmus reaches out unconsciously, and starlike material sprays from his hands.

Cadmus: That’s when I realize I know nothing at all.

NEXT: TAKE FLIGHT!

Preview: The Valley Chronicles: Tempest

Check out this preview of The Valley Chronicles: Tempest, coming 2019!

Chapter Three: John

We
reappeared in the circle of stones, smack dab in the middle of my wooded
backyard. Before I could say anything Sapphire was moving, wrenching her hand
from mine and sprinting towards my house. I blinked, disoriented, and followed.
Great. It had been like five seconds and I’d already lost her. Ruby was going
to kill me.

Sapphire
skidded to a stop in front of my home, tentatively touching the siding and
hooting in delight. “This isn’t wood,” she turned to me, grinning. “What is
it?”

“Uh,
plastic?” I guessed, not one hundred percent sure. Sapphire laughed and was off
again, running along the perimeter of my house, taking it in with sheer
delight. We reached the front of the house and Sapphire zeroed in on the
windows, pressing up against them curiously, taking in the interior of the
house with a hungry enthusiasm. She moved so quickly it was giving me whiplash.
I stumbled after her, trying not to screw up my suit.

“You
live here?” she turned back to me with a look of wonder.

“No, I
dropped us in front of a random house,” I told her sarcastically, ducking with
a laugh as Sapphire conjured a threatening blue flame. Suddenly she was in
motion again, jumping the short stairway to my house’s small entryway, looking
the red door up and down and slamming on the doorbell. She turned, and her gaze
fell upon the road. I watched nervously as her eyes grew large.

“The
ground is black,” she observed.

“More or
less,” I admitted.

Sapphire
gave a little yelp as one of my neighbors drove by, cruising through the
neighborhood in a small grey sedan. He gave me a small wave, which I returned
as Sapphire watched in amazement.

“What…
in the name of the Great Seed… was that?” Sapphire breathed, far too excited.

“Um,
they’re sort of like horseless wagons?” I fumbled for the right words. “That’s
what we use, mostly.”

“Ha!
This place is insane,” Sapphire closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep
breath with a smile. “I love it.”

“I
wouldn’t breathe the air in too heavily, it’s probably got all sorts of
diseases you don’t have in the Valley,” I mumbled. The princess rolled her eyes
and grabbed my hand.

“Come
on, you promised me a party,” she tugged me towards the street, grinning from
ear to ear.

“Alright,
alright, I’m coming,” I laughed, loosening up a bit. For the first time, it
occurred to me- This would be fun. “Get ready to be weirded out by my gross
friends.”

“Nobody
can be worse than you,” she elbowed me, and I jostled her back, laughing.

Sapphire
observed the other homes with wonder as we made our way down the street towards
Evan’s house. “Wow, this is weird,” she murmured to herself after we passed yet
another brightly lit house. “It’s like the lamps in the Silvermen city, or
those things on your phone. Everything is electric.”

“Electricity
is sort of our magic,” I shrugged. “Limited as it may be.”

Finally,
we approached Evan’s house, set apart from the rest by the strings of white
lights and the booming music which indicated a party. Scattered shouts and
laughs sounded from his backyard, along with some splashing.

“Is
there a lake back there?” Sapphire frowned.

“Not
exactly,” I bit my lip. “They have an artificial one called a pool.” I paused
at the unlocked gate to the backyard, giving my friend a final nervous look.
“You ready for this?”

“Absolutely,
I definitely memorized all that weird backstory you gave me,” she rolled her
eyes.

“Come
on, Sapphire, this is serious,” I crossed my arms. “There is no record of you
here. You could be locked up in an insane asylum, forced into the foster
system, or, I don’t know… deported to Mexico.”

Sapphire
smirked and pushed open the gate before I could say anything else. Groaning, I
followed her into Evan’s lovely upper middle class backyard. Evan, Sara,
Humphrie, Jason, and some other kids were already clustered by the pool, fully
dressed, while the parents watched proudly from the deck. Humphrie’s father was
setting up a large camera- he was a photographer, so he took the pre-dance
photos very seriously. Evan sighted me immediately, waving me over with a grin,
but before I could pull Sapphire towards him we were intercepted by his mother.

Mrs.
Mycroft was a tall woman with a kind face, for once without the two or three
younger kids I associated her so heavily with. She was dressed nicer than usual
in a dress and a black sweater, and I could’ve been wrong but I thought she
might’ve been wearing makeup.

“John,
I’m so glad you could make it,” Mrs. Mycroft smiled at me. “Evan was worried
he’d be the only guy in a tie. Kept going on about whether I was sure he wasn’t
over or under dressing.”

Nice, so
I wasn’t the only one with insecurities. I was definitely still going to find a
way to tease him about it though.

“Thanks
for inviting us, Mrs. Mycroft,” I did my best polite adult voice and plastered
a winning smile on my face. Sapphire made a sound like she was choking on
something, and Evan’s mother seemed to notice her for the first time.

“Oh! I don’t
believe we’ve met,” Ms. Mycroft extended a hand towards Sapphire. “Are you a
classmate of Evan’s?”

“Nope,”
Sapphire shook her head, taking Ms. Mycroft’s hand gracefully. My stomach
twisted nervously. “I’m actually from out of town.”

“Really?
That’s very exciting,” Ms. Mycroft grinned and I cringed. She was interested,
which meant she was going to ask questions, and this had not been a very good
idea. “How do you know John?”

Geez,
why did parents always have to make everything an interrogation? I opened my
mouth to save our cover, but Sapphire cut me off. “Actually, I’m from around
D.C., where John used to live,” she told Ms. Mycroft earnestly. “My name is
Sophie. I was homeschooled, but I lived in their neighborhood.”

“Oh! So
you’re childhood friends,” Ms. Mycroft clasped her hands together like this was
some kind of revelation. I, for one, was shell-shocked that Sapphire had
remembered her lines so well.

“Yes,”
Sapphire sighed ruefully, flashing me a mischievous look. “Believe it or not,
John used to be bullied mercilessly.” I raised an eyebrow, but the princess was
not done. “I had to protect him from the big kids all the time. It was a real
problem.”

“Woah,
hey, I protected you too,” I glared at Sapphire, wishing I could mentally
convey to her that I was going to kill her.

“Of
course, John,” Sapphire put an insultingly patronizing hand on my shoulder and
smiled at me. “You were a big help.”

“Whelp,
Evan’s waving to us, got to go,” I grabbed Sapphire’s hand and yanked her away
from the adults towards the kids.

“Have
fun, Sophie!” Mrs. Mycroft called after Sapphire as we entered the throng of
kids. “You look like a princess tonight!”

“That’s
the goal!” Sapphire hollered back, and I punched her in the shoulder.

“Dude,
seriously?” I stopped us right smack in the middle of the others, where I
figured the adults wouldn’t come for us with more questions.

“It
wasn’t technically a lie,” Sapphire shrugged, clearly pleased with herself. “I
saved you from the Soldiers what, like three of four times our first time
around?”

“John!
You made it back!” Suddenly an arm looped around my shoulder, and I grinned as
Evan tousled my hair a bit. “I had a bet with Sara that you’d get pulled into
some war and wouldn’t show!”

“And
you’ve dragged some poor girl with you and forced her to endure your company,”
Sara smiled sadly at Sapphire, taking her hands and patting them. “I’m sorry. I
can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

Sapphire
laughed. “I like her.”

“Sara,
Evan, this is Sapphire,” I removed Evan’s arm from me and patted him on the
shoulder. “Princess of the Crown, Savior of the Valley, fellow member of the
Quest, sort of annoying…”

“All of
this is true,” Sapphire curtsied. “Annoying John is a privilege, but also a
responsibility which I take very seriously.”

“I like
her,” Evan said.

“Can we
not make everything be about roasting me?” I folded my arms, which was
difficult with the suit I was wearing.

“But
it’s something we have in common,” Sara pointed out. “We need to bond over it.”

“Jeez,
don’t you want us to make friends?” Evan shook his head in disgust.

“Oh
thank God, we’re doing pictures now,” I practically leapt towards front of the
pool, where the kids were now conglomerating and posing under Humphrie’s dad’s
watchful eye. My face was red- having Sapphire, Evan, and Sara in the same room
was beyond weird.

“I
definitely should’ve brought Elden,” I muttered to myself as I took my place in
the group photo.

“Sorry,
what was that?” Sapphire raised a questioning eyebrow from her spot next to
Sara in the girls’ row.

“Nothing
you’re a good friend and I love you,” I smirked at Sapphire, and she kicked at me.
I was briefly very glad that she wasn’t wearing high heels.

As we
finished up the pictures, stars emerging in the deep blue sky above, it came
time to finally drive to the dance. Sapphire and I would be getting a ride in
Sara’s car (something Sapphire was immensely excited for), and my dad would
pick us up at the end of the dance. Then Sapphire and I would blink back to the
Valley and sleep for five years.

However,
just as the cars were pulling up into Evan’s large driveway, I noticed my
father at the edge of the party, waving me over. A bit nervously, I nodded towards
him and turned to Sara.

“Hey,
can you get Sapphire settled in your car? My dad wants me.”

“Yeah,
sure,” Sara smiled. “No problem.”

“Great,
thanks,” I gave her a thumbs up, moving towards the deck. “Make sure she
understands seatbelts!”

“Will
do!” she called after me, and I hopped up the stairs to the deck. My father was
waiting for me at the edge, looking a little anxious. His eyes lit up as he saw
me.

“John!
Come here,” He opened his arms and pulled me into a hug to my surprise.

“Okay,
we’re hugging I guess,” I murmured, taken aback, as my father stepped away from
me and looked me up and down.  He was a
lot more emotional than I was used to and it was sort of freaking me out. Was
this how Mom had been with Violet?

But my
father didn’t say anything about how proud he was of me or anything, which was
kind of a relief. Instead, he cleared his throat, face reddening, and abruptly
changed the subject. “I notice you didn’t introduce me to your date,” he bit
his lip. “Ellen said she knew you in D.C.?”

“Uh,
yeah…?” I scratched the back of my neck, face reddening.

“Well,
it was nice of her parents to fly her out here,” he smiled. “I would’ve offered
to let them stay with us if I’d known.”

“Okay,”
I nodded, shifting my weight awkwardly. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

My
father regarded me for a second. “You can talk to me, you know? You’re growing
up so fast, and into such an amazing person, but you don’t have to do
everything alone. I could’ve helped with this, I could’ve been more present for
everything and…” he sighed. “Look, things have been stewing for a while I
guess, since you and Violet vanished last year. I want to make the most of the
time we have together. I want to be there for you.”

“You
already are,” I said, my mouth dry. I appreciated the sentiment, I really did-
but it was way too late in the game for Dad to start micromanaging me. The last
thing I wanted was for him to start noticing, well… anything magical.

“Alright,
I’ve said my piece,” My father clapped me on the shoulder, his mood passing.
“Go, have fun. I’ll be picking you up at 11, text if it’s going to be earlier.”

“You’ve
got it,” I grinned, my gaze darting towards the driveway where Sara’s car was
stirring. As my eyes fell upon the bluish minivan, dinged from years of use, a
strange shadow fell over my heart. A moment of foreboding. I turned back to my
father, wanting to say something to him, almost as if I knew that this moment
was all we had left.

“I love
you, Dad,” I told him, and went to join the party.

My 10 Favorite Comics of 2018 (#10-6)

As anyone who knows me knows, I’m a huge fan of comics! Marvel, DC, Indie, etc. and there was a lot to like this year. Over the course of two articles, I’ll be breaking down my favorite comics of the previous year,

10. Vampironica



[image error]Art by the Smallwoods

First up on this list is an oddity- An Archie Horror miniseries called Vampironica written and illustrated by the Smallwoods where Veronica is bitten by a vampire and forced to singlehandedly take down the vampire scourge of Riverdale before it gets to her friends. The art, last seen in Jeff Lemire’s Moon Knight, is stark, gorgeous, and gritty, even once Greg Smallwood lets Greg Scott take over art duties.

The story is brief but intensely personal, allowing great growth for Veronica as she finds her place in Riverdale rewritten. It was heartfelt and a ton of fun (not to mention it sported a killer mythology) and I’m bummed it ended after only 6 issues.

9. Black Bolt



Art by Christian Ward

I’ve always been interested in the character of Black Bolt (even with Marvel’s misguided recent attempt to push the Inhumans) and with the gorgeous art of Christian Ward, I just knew I had to check out Saladin Ahmed’s take on the character. Black Bolt ran for 12 issues through 2018, and while it lost some steam near the end it consistently remained a tense, emotional thriller from its start in a terrifying intergalactic prison to its end in the post-Secret Empire Marvel Universe.

This book started out as an Absorbing Man comic pitch, and one can tell, but the character of the Absorbing Man adds so much that it’s hard to fault Ahmed for this. The story and art are both so kinetic and unique that every issue was worth every cent and I sincerely wish it had continued.

8. The Wild Storm



Art by Jon Davis Hunt

We momentarily move on from ongoings that were canceled to a maxi-series that was designed from the start to cover 24 issues of comics. The Wild Storm by Warren Ellis, a bold reinterpretation of the WildStorm mythos that is so boring that it’s intriguing. Even now, as the story nears its end, superhuman battles have taken a backseat to a dense sociopolitical conflict between two organizations– I.O. and Skywatch– and the characters this conflict effects.

Out of the Wild Storm characters, Grifter is my favorite by far, but even with him in the background of the book it’s such a good time, whether we’re spending an issue on exposition, violence, or more negotiations, one never knows what to expect from this comic except the unexpected.

7. Rogue & Gambit / Mr. & Mrs. X



Art by Terry Dodson

I’m a big Gambit fan, and more or less a Rogue fan, and so I was thrilled when a Rogue & Gambit miniseries launched and offered me the chance to atone for the egregious way I missed Gambit’s last ongoing series. Despite being skeptical about the romantic marketing of the book and the fact that I’m not super invested in the Rogue/Gambit relationship, this book surpassed all my expectations and delivered a character-centric, classicly fun superhero adventure.

I was pleasantly surprised, of course, when Kelly Thompson subsequently returned for an ongoing Rogue & Gambit comic following the characters’ shocking marriage in X-Men: Gold, a series which (while I little wilder than its predecessor) carries just as much heart and fun and is one of my favorites to read every month.

6. Aquaman / Mera: Queen of Atlantis



Art by Nicola Scott

I’ve read every issue of Aquaman since 2011, but 2018 marked a special year for the series as Dan Abnett’s two-year epic came to an emotional conclusion, the Aquaman movie came out, and Mera (who I liked arguably more than Arthur) received her own breathtaking miniseries Mera: Queen of Atlantis. 2018 marked the culmination of all the plots Abnett had been seeding since he came onto the title in February 2016, and it was all very emotional and very much worth the wait (although I still miss clean-shaved Aquaman).

It’s difficult to describe just how much I’m going to miss Abnett’s flair for mythology and pitch-perfect interpretations of Arthur and Mera, but I had a ton of fun during his run and can’t wait to see what he does next.

Keep a look out for #5-1 in May!

ACC in 2019: April

April Showers bring an end to ACC Pub Ink’s all-encompassing hiatus as ACC Cinematic begins its first “season” of consistent content! Starting now, our YouTube channel will produce 3 original videos every month until the end of the season, typically consisting of a sketch and one promotional video related to Two, The Valley Chronicles, or something else along those lines!

Meanwhile, other fun features will premiere in Electric/Eccentric, including a warm-up project of mine called Starlight! This month you can expect:

Monday, April 1st- “My Favorite Comics of 2018!” (Opinion)Monday, April 8th- “Chapter Three: John” (The Valley Chronicles: Tempest Preview)Friday, April 12th- “The Party” (two Special Feature)Sunday, April 21st- “Everyone Else” (two Featurette)Thursday, April 25th- “Issue #1: Nova” (Starlight)Sunday, April 28th- “iPhone Group Chats” (Self-Shame)Monday, April 29th- “May ’19” (ACC in 2019 Inventory)

There’s admittedly a chance I’ll have to delay ACC Cinematic’s Self-Shame to the Summer. Well see how that pans out.

Squirrel Academy: The Castle of Carnage Island XXIII

[image error]Colored by Lexxi Skochinski

Preview: The Outsiders Club

Coming 2021…

Photo by Stephan Seeber on Pexels.com

It only took a few moments of awkward
silence for my parents to start grilling me about my day.

“So, sweetie, how was school?” My
father leaned forward as he cut into his filet mignon, tenderly rubbing his
bite in béarnaise before consuming it. He regarded me with that same mix of
curiosity and concern that had been ever present in my parents’ brown eyes
since I’d been expelled from Hareswood Hall, a look I found equal parts
frustrating and gratifying.

“Fine,” I lied, my face lapsing into a
practiced smile as I kept my eyes on my own food. “I think I’m going to have a
lot of fun here.”

“Are you sure about this?” My mother
pursed her lips, accentuated by a fancy shade of red I knew to be a favorite of
hers. “My old friend Ella Tremaine is dean at a gorgeous school in Jersey. You
wouldn’t be too far from us.”

“No, I’m fine.” My heart raced at the
thought of returning to the world I’d left behind. “This is better.” Time to
change the subject. Time to change the subject. “Besides, I like the new house.
What is it? Colonial? Victorian?”

My gambit worked- my mother’s face
soured at the mention of the creaking, ancient mansion we were currently
sitting in the refurbished dining room of. “That makes one of us.” She scowled
at my father. “Dearest, I know your brother recommended the place to us, but
I’m not seeing the appeal. There were nicer places in Rochester for half the
price. And they were right on the water! We don’t even have a pool.”

“Why do we even need a pool, Margaret?”
My father threw down his utensils with exasperation. “You’re the only one who
swims anyway.”

I choked on my steak, all too aware of
the error my father had just made. Chugging down a glass of water, I kept my
eyes on the meal as my mother’s gaze went cold.

“Oh, and  my interests are unimportant to the family, I
suppose?” she laughed sourly. “In case you forgot, Charles, I’m not your trophy wife. I contribute just as much to the
company as you do.”

I served myself some potatoes, well
aware of the fact that this argument would not be over anytime soon. They’d
been having the same one, or variations of it, as long as I could remember.
Their differences had only been exacerbated by our recent losses. They’d even
argued at the funeral, and my grandparents had to pull them apart for
everyone’s good. I knew they loved each other, and I was sure they would get
through this, but unfortunately I was cursed to deal with their constant
squabbling for the foreseeable future. I guess it’s true what they say…
everyone grieves in their own way.

Some ways are more annoying than
others. But anyway, argument:

“This house is an investment in our future,”
my father reiterated to his seething wife. “Knowles says old houses will triple
in value over the next decade, especially ones in this style. He’s never led us
wrong before.”

“Well, there’s a first time for
everything,” Mom huffed. “After all, I never thought I’d see my daughter in
anything but designer clothes, and yet here we are.”

My face went red. My mother always
found a way to bring things back to this. I pretended I hadn’t heard her,
finishing with the potatoes and placing them back in the center of the table.
My parents turned their gaze to me, remembering I had been the topic of
conversation before deflecting. They regarded me with something like concern.

“Uh… you guys okay?” I raised an
eyebrow, my mouth still half full of potatoes.

“Sally…” my mother hesitated. “Are you
okay? Really?”

“Well, still sort of mad that you named
me Sally,” I tried to keep the mood light despite the churning in my stomach.
“Everybody expects me to be really old and then they’re just a little disappointed
when they see I’m young and beautiful.” I paused.

 “You
know we can find you another therapist if you need it,” Dad offered.

I shook my head. My last experience
hasn’t been ideal… Dr. Rowland refused to keep meeting me after only two
appointments, insisting I was lying to her. I mean, I was lying to her, but the
experience had still turned me off from therapy.

I wasn’t in the mood to be hospitalized
for the things I’d seen, the insane things I knew to be true.  I figured I’d save my crazy stories for if I
felt like getting out of exams.

“All good here,” I smiled weakly. Well,
as good as I could be after losing my best friend, getting expelled from my
high school, and moving to a new one where nobody would even talk to me without
cringing.

“Mhm.” I could tell by the look they
shared that neither of my parents really believed me. My mother sat forward,
her pool and meal both forgotten. I could tell she was trying to figure out how
to say something without sounding insulting. I doubted she’d have much luck.

“Sally, sweetie…” she tucked a stray
lock of hair behind her ear. “You know that your stylist is still available,
right? I know you were trying to make some sort of statement when you threw out
your old clothes–”

“It’s not throwing out if you donate
them,” I muttered, but my mother wasn’t listening.

“—but you’ve made your point,” she
continued, folding her hands in an attempt to seem attentive. “Nobody would
hold it against you if you started dressing well again.”

“I’m not dressing for anybody else,” I crossed my arms. “I like the way I look. And
if anyone has a problem with that, I really don’t care.”

My mother swallowed hard and glanced
over at my father for support. He jumped in quickly, taking her across the vast
dining table and turning towards me. “We don’t like seeing you so angry,
Sally.”

I laughed bitterly despite myself, and
my parents exchanged looks. “You guys don’t get it,” I smiled at them, a bit
sadly. “I’m not angry. I’m me.”

The rest of dinner went about as well
as that conversation allowed, and I was relieved to finally slip away to my
room. It wasn’t like I had much to do- I had already finished my homework out
of sheer boredom- but it was far enough away from my parents to offer a much
needed sense of solitude. When the realtor had first offered us a tour of the
house, a few months ago, this room immediately stood out to me- it was smaller
than most of the others, tucked far away in the back of the house, but it had a
personality to it that I really appreciated. There were huge, tall, beautiful
windows which opened up to what had once been a beautiful garden, with a nice
view of the woods which surrounded the area. I knew restoring the garden was
high on my father’s list- he’d already started looking into some flowers and
topiary- but I was just as happy with it as it was. Decaying, sure, but
interesting, beautiful in its own way. Like the rest of the house, it had a
story.

Despite my protests, our interior
designer had made some minor changes to the room. Jacquie had installed a
window seat in the corner of the room, jutting out like a tiny gazebo, and had
raised the ceiling a bit at the expense of the room above. My loft bed was
built into the wall, leaving room for a desk underneath. I’d been allowed to do
the rest of the decorating, and I hadn’t changed much. I restored the
rose-patterned wallpaper which had been already present, pulled some small pink
rugs over the hardwood floor, and brought in some furniture from my old room. I
hadn’t lived here long enough for it to feel like home, but I was confident it
would get there.

It had to.

Sighing, I moved towards the windowseat
and practically collapsed onto it. I closed my eyes, and everything sucky that
had happened today seemed to wash over me. I opened my eyes, automatically
pulling out my phone and unlocking it in the hopes that I had some game or app
that would make me feel better. Instead, I was greeted by my lock screen- a
picture from just over a year ago, me and another girl, pale skin and green
eyes, smiling as we linked arms. Behind us was my old school, my old life, and
with that I realized that this hadn’t really helped me at all.

“I guess a distraction would be too
much to hope for?” I said to nobody in particular. I sort of wish that this
place was haunted… that would at least give me someone to talk to. This house
was creaky, old, big, and maybe a little creepy, but it was still just a house.

Was it sad that this house was probably
my only friend?

Suddenly, the quiet evening was split
open by sirens. I started, whirling towards the window and craned my head
towards the distant road. Just in time, as several police cars whizzed past. I
frowned… I had asked for a distraction, but this seemed extreme.

“Whatever,” I muttered to myself,
grabbing a nearby jacket and heading for the door. I could totally be home
before it got too late- the town wasn’t super far away. Carefully, I snuck out
into the empty hallway, glancing around just to make sure there was nobody
lurking around. I headed straight for the garage, which I knew my parents
wouldn’t be anywhere near. The darkened hallways were only slightly creepy as I
jogged quickly through them, focusing more on my destination than on the empty,
shadowy rooms. Finally I pushed my way through a heavy door into the garage,
grabbed my helmet, and buckled it on as I swung over onto my bicycle.

Here’s hoping I remembered enough about
the ride to school to not get deathly lost. Also that I wasn’t about to bike
all the way into town to watch somebody get ticketed. That would be a royal
waste of time, but something compelled me to keep going, keep pumping at the
pedals.

I knew I could fit into Golden Springs
somewhere. Maybe this was how I would learn where I belonged.

My house vanished into the distance and
I found myself deep in the forest, browning as it prepared for Winter. The
sounds of the forest washed over me- the chirping of birds, the whistling of
wind, the faraway footsteps of some woodland creatures. I shivered in the brisk
air. This forest seemed far larger, far creepier, than it had any right to be.
Especially since I knew the town couldn’t be more than two or three miles away.

There had been forests in Virginia, but
none like this. It fit with my overall impression of Golden Springs- ordinary
enough, with this eerie undertone I couldn’t quite place. It felt like the town
was holding its breath, waiting for something. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to
know what that something was.

Finally, I emerged from the shadows,
cycling into the sleepy outskirts of town. There was a bit of a bump as my bike
moved from the pavement onto the now-present sidewalk. I breathed in a deep
breath as I passed Clara’s Bakery, relishing the smell of the fresh-baked
cookies I knew they kept in stock, and I waved to an elderly couple walking
towards a small park on my right. I watched as the old, but well kept buildings
grew closer together, and tried to pick out as many interesting people and
enticing places as I could. I sighted a blue haired boy with his arm around a
guy in a football jersey walking out of an indie movie theater, and a frazzled
looking mother pushing a large stroller past a bustling tavern. I saw a small
bookstore, and a giant pet shop, and this place was just so magical that I
almost biked straight into the crowd of people clustered in front of me.

Abruptly, I swerved to a stop, hopping
off my bike and kicking out the stand so it stood propped out at the edge of
the crowd. A bit hesitantly, I left my helmet by the cycle and prayed it
wouldn’t be stolen as I moved away from it. Hey, what good was being rich if I
didn’t get to be careless sometimes?

All sorts of people stood in a large
clump before me, packed tightly together as they gazed at something I could not
see and muttered amongst themselves. I realized abruptly that I’d reached what
should have been the center of down, glimpsing an intricate fountain of stone
beyond the crowd. I rocked onto my toes, struggling for a better look, but all
I could see was police tape, and some officers pacing back and forth with
cameras and rubber gloves. My eyes widened.

Here I was.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, pushing into
the crowd. I was definitely short enough to deserve being in the front of this
mess. An old lady clucked, and a middle aged mom with that kind of haircut
glared at me, but I made it to the front mostly without incident.

When I got my first look at the body, I
almost regretted coming. Almost.

The man (or at least I assumed he had
been a man) was mostly obscured by a white tarp, but his hands and legs peeked
out enough for me to identify his general shape. He was sprawled by the
fountain, in a puddle of dark liquid I would later identify as blood, and he
smelled so strongly of death that I could taste it in the air from where I
stood. I swallowed hard, averting my eyes.

Seeing him was hard, but I’d had
practice seeing dead bodies.

“Everybody please move along,” a frumpy
woman in uniform spoke flatly into a megaphone, attempting to disperse the
crowd. “This is a crime scene.”

I didn’t really see how this was going
to make people any less interested, but hey, I wasn’t one to tell anybody else
how to do their job.

“They’re totally stumped,” a voice next
to me said, and I started as I realized they were talking to me. I turned to
see a boy my age, dark skin and eyes, his face speckled with freckles. He
smiled at me, hands in his green parka.

“You don’t seem to have a lot of faith
in the system,” I observed with some amusement, smiling. I brushed some hair
out of my eyes, trying not to seem as excited as I was. Somebody was actually
talking to me. Bicycling into a crime scene hadn’t been such a crazy idea after
all. Who was I kidding, it was still ridiculous but nothing about my life
wasn’t.

“My dad’s a detective,” the boy’s face
split into a wide grin as he observed my own smile. “I hear him yelling at his
partner on the phone all the time. This happened a half hour ago, he had to
leave in the middle of dinner. They’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a big city,” I
pointed out. “I assume Murder isn’t all that common around here.”

“You’d be surprised,” he shrugged. “A
woman killed her husband while camping around here just four or five years
ago.”

“Um… cool?” I frowned, not sure how to
feel about that.

“Anyway, it’s the murder weapon that’s
freaking them,” the boy continued, and then as if it was the most natural next
sentence in the world he added: “My name’s Forrest, by the way. Forrest
Williams.”

“I’m Sally,” I extended a hand and he
shook it. His hands were cold and clammy.

“Oh, hey, you’re new at my school,
right?” Forrest leaned back, curious. “Thunder Hill?”

“Yup, go Lightning,” I confirmed with a
half hearted cheer. This earned a laugh from Forrest.

“I still don’t get why we’re the
Lightning if it’s Thunder Hill,” he voiced something which had certainly been
bothering me. “I mean, shouldn’t it be the Thunder Hill Thunder?”

“I know, right?” I laughed, harder than
I meant to. I briefly wondered if I was starved for human interaction. “Crazy.”

“Well, that’s certainly not a word I’m
used to associating with Golden Springs,” Forrest snorted. “Crazy.”

It occurred to me that I liked Forrest
Williams, and would not mind at all being his friend.

“Have you lived here your whole life?”
I asked, blowing a strand of stray hair from my face as I questioned Forrest.
“In Golden Springs, I mean.”

“Unfortunately,” Forrest’s lips turned
downward into a sour frown. “Everybody acts like staying in one place is so
great but it’s not like on TV, you know? No close knit friend group since
kindergarten or anything. Just a class of kids who you’ve learned way too much
about over the last 13 years. The people around here would do anything for a
change.”

“Yeah, I would argue that,” I bit my
lip as I thought of the looks I had gotten from the other kids this morning.
They hadn’t exactly been lining up to be my friend. I didn’t want to bum
Forrest out, though, so I hurriedly moved the conversation along. “Er, how
often do new kids come along? Am I a rarity?”

“More or less,” Forrest shrugged.
“You’re the first real exciting addition in a while, that’s for sure. I mean, there
was Lilianna, but…” His voice trailed off as though there was nothing more to
say. I wasn’t buying it.

“Lilianna?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Lilianna who?”

“Lilianna there,” Forrest nudged me,
pointing towards a girl sequestered a ways off from the rest of the crowd. She
looked shorter than average, with curly brown hair braided neatly and tucked
over her shoulder. She dressed simply, in quiet and unassuming shades of blue,
brown, and green that encouraged the eye to skate right over her.

So… the opposite of my unconventional
ensemble.

“Wow, she seems…” I frowned. “Very
interested in the dead body.” Indeed, Lilianna seemed extraordinarily engaged
by the crime scene before her, observing it with a stony sort of grimace. “Why
isn’t she with the crowd?”

“Not a crowd kinda girl,” Forrest
shrugged, a goofy half-smile flitting over his countenance as we watched the
stranger. “She, uh… doesn’t really like other people.”

“Hm,” I raised an eyebrow. “But you
like her?”

Forrest snapped back to reality,
swerving so that his horrified eyes met mine. “What?”

“Admit it,” I chuckled. “You’re sort of
into her.”

“I am not,” Forrest sputtered,
attempting to regain his composure. “She’s just… interesting, is all.”

“Well, that’s for sure,” I admitted, an
elfish grin turning the corner of my lips up into a smile. “Which makes her the
perfect addition to our brand new friend group.”

“Wait, what?” My new friend scrambled
to follow me as I started towards an oblivious Lilianna. “Sally, what are you
doing?”

“Being friendly,” I smirked at the
flustered boy, turning back to my intended target. As we became closer, she
seemed to notice us for the first time, giving Forrest and I a stony look of
uninterested confusion as we came to stand in front of her.

“Er…” she said, looking me up and down
with undisguised discomfort. “Do you want something?”

“Maybe,” I raised a hand. “The name’s
Sally. I’m new here.”

Lilianna pursed her lips, not moving to
meet my gesture. “Why are you dressed like cotton candy dropped on top of a
discarded little girl’s doll?”

Ooh, she was forward. I liked that- it
was a welcome change from the indirect stares and whispers I’d gotten at
school. “Because I want to be,” I met her gaze, unblinking. “You know, I think
the three of us go to school together.”

Lilianna’s brown eyes flitted behind me
to regard Forrest. “I’ve seen him around.”

“Hi,” Forrest choked.

“You know, a girl told me today that
the lunchroom’s been crazy crowded lately,” I crossed my arms. “Right,
Forrest?”

“So crazy…” Forrest mumbled.

“We were talking about how we might sit
with you at lunch tomorrow,” I continued. “Yours has a little more room.”

Lilianna’s eyes widened. She had
clearly not expected that. “Why would you do that?”

“This might come as a shock to you, but
I’m not all that popular around school,” I told her honestly. “You haven’t been
rude to me.”

“Yes, I have,” Lilianna looked
thoroughly confused. “I’m rude to everyone.”

“Exactly!” I clapped my hands together.
“You haven’t treated me like I’m diseased just because I’m weird.”

“I can start,” the girl raised an
eyebrow.

“Too late,” I clapped her on the
shoulder. “We’re already friends. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I don’t know about that,” Lilianna
grasped my hand and curtly moved it from her shoulder. “I’m a very busy
person.”

“Oh, yeah, investigating the murder,” I
glanced back at the crime scene she was so fixated on. Lilianna flinched. “Not
all that subtle. That’s fine, Forrest and I are happy to help. You know, his
dad’s on the force.”

“He is?” Lilianna’s gaze shifted, and
she regarded Forrest with something like curiosity. “Has any evidence been
found?”

“Not yet,” Forrest was getting the
idea. “But they might have found something by lunch tomorrow.”

Lilianna sighed. “You two are very
irritating.”

“Oh, probably,” I nodded, starting to
back away as I motioned for Forrest to follow. “See you tomorrow! We can get
our Nancy Drew on!”

As Lilianna stared after us, looking
conflicted, Forrest shoved his hands into his pockets. “Um, what just
happened?”

“Two birds, one stone,” I replied. “We
get to befriend your icy outcast, and we get to find out what she knows about the
Hunters.”

“The Hunters?” Forrest blinked, and I
swore inwardly. This is what happened when I got cocky- things slipped out.
“What Hunters? And why are you so sure Lilianna knows anything?”

“Because she was looking at the
fountain, not the corpse,” I grimaced. “And because I’ve seen this before.”

Opinion: Plurality

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

I believe in the complexity of mankind; That every person is multifaceted and multilayered beyond imagination, that our selves are so much wilder and weirder than we ever dared to believe. I believe that the human spirit is indefinable; That experiences alone cannot define another to us… there is always more to see. We are three dimensional, fantastical, glorious, yet when we see others, we see in 2D. One only ever knows a small fraction of the picture.

When we see others, we define them in relation to one another. He is buffer than average and plays for the school’s football team, so he is a jock. She is dedicated to her grades and gets As in AP Calculus BC, so she is a nerd. We use these labels and limitations to navigate our world, to make it feel safer, kinder. Yet in the process, we can lose sight of the truth— No two people are the same. We all have our triumphs and tragedies, battles and better days, and we all have so many more dimensions than we can imagine.

Nothing fits neatly into the genres and archetypes we, as humans, love- lives are not comedies, or tragedies, they are fiery mixes of laughter and sadness, pain and pleasure, kindness and cruelty. Good books don’t just keep you safe, they scare you… good movies should show you a whole new world but offer glimpses of landscapes more familiar. People are like that, we are like that. Do not force your parts to add up to your sum: You are more than that. You don’t make sense, and you shouldn’t.

When I was younger, I was different from the other guys, often ostracized for my close friendship with my sisters. My classmates called me a girl and my teacher even attempted to ban me from reading “girly” books. However, once I realized I was an outsider, I defined myself by this label, wearing it proudly like a shiny, new badge. I stopped trying to get along with others, decided I was automatically introverted and bad at sports, and, ironically, began to look down upon other guys. By deeming them lesser beings just for being who they were, I was becoming just as narrow-minded and sexist as those who I saw as my persecutors. It would be a while before I realized that nobody is one thing- not my friends who ran and played with me every day at recess, not the boys who called me names and ate hand sanitizer to scare me, and not myself.

We are not immutable. I am a writer, but I refuse to be just a writer- I want to act, and sing, and debate politics, and read about science. I want to play hockey, because even though I suck at it, the sound of skates cutting through ice and pucks slapping sideboards is still a part of who I am. I refuse to limit myself to a narrow definition when I can let loose and lose form. I am not spreading myself thin- I am allowing my true shape to escape the plastic box in which it has been confined.

Take risks and push beyond what you believe to be possible. Be kind to those who you do not understand. To understand somebody is to limit them, but to believe in them is to give them wings.

ACC in 2019: March

Welcome to the last month of ACC’s all-encompassing hiatus! This is our last sparsely-populated, unassuming period before a new season of something or other starts up in April. Keep hanging with me and check out this fun content!

Sunday, March 3- “I Believe…” (Personal Essay)Thursday, March 7- “Chapter 3: Sally” (The Outsiders Club Excerpt)Friday, March 15- “Knife Man / Matt Island” (two Featurette)Sunday, March 24- “Tempest Book Teaser” (The Valley Chronicles: Tempest Trailer)Monday, March 25- “Good Night” (Squirrel Academy)Sunday, March 31- April ’19 (ACC in 2019)

Squirrel Academy: The Castle of Carnage Island XXII

[image error]Colored by Lexxi Skochinski

Short Story: Lament

[image error]Photo by suzukii xingfu on Pexels.com

It
was a light, trilling melody, reminiscent of a carol, but not a happy one—more
like those sad songs Charlie heard on the radio about poor people or loss,
created in a half-hearted attempt to reject the commercialized truth of the
season. With a haunting hum, the tune looped through his head: One, two, three, two, three, two, one. There
was a plodding quality to it, which made him feel somewhat impatient. But
Charlie probably would’ve felt impatient anyway, lying on the uncomfortable and
coarse carpet of his bedroom floor, staring up at the ceiling, a notebook of
half done and wholly forgotten homework pushed away almost an hour ago.

It
occurred to Charlie that the music was annoying, but not intolerable… more
intriguing if anything. He suspected this was partially
because for the last two weeks, he’d had
a rather lewd rap stuck in his head which his friend Jack had played for him.
It had been tacky but catchy and had taken root deep in Charlie’s misshapen
brain, torturing him for what felt like an eternity. Charlie had no idea when
it had stopped, just as he had no idea when this sad symphony had begun. Not
that it really mattered.

There
was a low grumble as Charlie’s stomach gave a decisive shudder. He’d forgotten
both breakfast and lunch in his haste to catch up on his work, and even now, he
found he had no desire to get up and scrounge some sustenance for the day. As
of late, this had become a common occurrence.

One, two, three, two, three, two,
one.

Charlie
stared at the immobile ceiling fan, a large weight pressing down upon his tight
chest.

~

Charlie got a B- on his homework,
which was more than he expected. This should’ve made him feel significantly
better, but it didn’t. Instead, Charlie
found his mind leaping forward to the two papers due at the end of the week,
and the sheer density of the studying he would have to do for his math midterm
and the way he’d smiled a bit too long at the boy who sat next to him in Social
Studies, and how tired he was. These thoughts spun through his stomach like a
spinning blade, leaving sharp nausea
behind every short breath Charlie took.

Instead of taking the bus home,
Charlie decided to walk. He felt that there was a chance the fresh air would do
him some good, and more importantly, he had no desire to cram into the
overcrowded yellow tin alongside the other students, who seemed to crackle with
a strange energy Charlie was incapable of matching. Even around his friends,
like Meg or Jack, Charlie could feel this strange gap between his brain and his
eyes, so that his thoughts and feelings were stranded indefinitely away from
the action all around him. There was a lonely claustrophobia to this sensation.

Charlie felt more at ease on the
side of the road (there were no sidewalks where he lived), the wind whistling
over his bare arms and legs and drawing goosebumps from his flesh. There was no
avoiding the emptiness, but he could immerse himself in it. At times like
these, there was no Charlie… just one foot in front of the other, deep breaths
of fresh air, and the occasional shiver
timed to an inaudible beat. The absence ached but kept Charlie warm.

He continued on like this for some
time until the sky began to darken, and Charlie realized with a jolt that he
had been walking for a very long time. Though he should’ve long since arrived
at home, Charlie was still on the side of
the road, or more accurately, a road,
an unfamiliar one at that. On his left stretched a sort of highway, empty in an
eerily familiar way, and on his right, a forest, so thick and dark that he
could see nothing beyond the initial line of pines. A cold dryness settled
behind Charlie’s tongue. For the first time in hours, he stopped.

Nervously,
Charlie reached into his shorts’ pocket, only to find his phone was gone. His
heart quickened, thumping with a tense urgency as he realized that he was absolutely, completely, lost.

Before
Charlie could descend into a proper panic, he became aware of a soft whirring steadily
increasing in volume. Whirling around, the boy caught sight of an odd
silhouette in the distance, growing closer as it moved—no, bounced—towards him.
As the shape grew larger, Charlie realized it was a large bicycle, dragging
along what appeared to be some sort of carriage built out of rickety wood.
Riding the bicycle was the small, gangly form of a little boy, with dark hair,
dark skin, and freckles that Charlie could pick out several feet away.

As
the carriage grew closer, it began to slow down. Unconsciously, Charlie took a
step backwards, wondering if he should move, or flee. Indecision held him in
place as the young boy came to a stop, saluting Charlie from his red bike.

“Hello,”
said the young boy.

“Hello,”
said Charlie.

“I
think I’m lost,” the young boy told him earnestly. It seemed to Charlie that
this boy was somewhat familiar.

“So
am I,” Charlie scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Sorry.”

“No,
don’t be,” the boy gave him a sad smile. “I’ve been lost for a very long time.
It isn’t your fault.” He extended a hand in greeting. “I’m Charlie.”

Charlie
blinked. “I’m Charlie,” he stuttered.
“I mean, that’s also my name. My name is Charlie.”

“What
a strange coincidence,” the young boy laughed, but there was no warmth in his
eyes. Only a kind of foreboding. It occurred to Charlie that the reason that
this Other Charlie looked so familiar was that he had the same flushed cheeks…
the same half dimples… Charlie saw every day in the mirror. Aside from the odd,
misplaced freckles, they could’ve been brothers.

“Where
are we?” Charlie asked the other, his voice dim.

“I’m
not sure,” Other Charlie confessed. “I thought it was a dream but now I’m not
so sure.”

Charlie
blinked. “Why?”

“Well,”
Other Charlie tilted his head, puzzled,
as if the answer should be obvious. “You’re awake.”

The
two Charlies lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Charlie hated uncomfortable
silences… he was a part of so many, and they always made him feel so
uncomfortably present.

“Would
you like a ride?” Other Charlie asked abruptly, ending the brief torment.

“Where?”
Charlie frowned. “We’re lost.”

“Somewhere
else I suppose,” Other Charlie shrugged. It was a nonsensical answer but this
was a nonsensical situation and Charlie saw no reason why he should continue to
wander aimlessly.

“Yes,
please,” Charlie nodded, and Other Charlie gave a small smile.

“Cool,”
he said, beginning to crack his knuckles one by one. “There’s plenty of room in
the back. Just don’t sit on Tiberius.”

Charlie’s
stomach turned somewhat at this statement… there was somebody else here? As
much as Charlie was frightened of this nightmare’s strange silence, he was far
more uncomfortable with the idea of having to fill it with conversation.
Nervously, he climbed into the misshapen wooden carriage; and immediately,
Charlie was faced with a very strange sight. This carriage, ugly and makeshift
as it was on the outside, was oddly colorful on the inside. Though constructed
of the same uneven wood, and lacking any sort of comfortable cushions, the cart
was painted just about every color of the rainbow, a dizzying assortment of
colors which drew attention to a single button hanging from the ceiling like a
chandelier.

On
the bench across from Charlie sat a small greenish brown lump, which he
realized momentarily to be a turtle hiding inside
its shell. It took a few more seconds for Charlie to recognize that this turtle
must be the Tiberius the Other Charlie had spoken of. Charlie could not discern
how he felt about this.

“Are
you comfortable back there?” Other Charlie called back, his voice clear through
the thin carriage walls.

“Yes,”
Charlie murmured, feeling somewhat dizzy.

“Good,”
the young boy replied, and the carriage jolted suddenly and began moving. There
were no windows in the carriage, so Charlie could not know for sure, but it
seemed to him they were moving pretty fast. He wondered why; it wasn’t as if
they had anywhere to go.

The
Other Charlie began humming shortly, an unfamiliar tune, quick and lively, with
a very distinctive beat that quickly ingrained itself in Charlie’s head.
Charlie was surprised to find he didn’t mind this—there was something idyllic,
he found, about this journey, about the silence only broken by the humming of
the young boy up ahead, and the solitude, shattered only by the quiet turtle
who never once emerged from his shell. Strange as it was, Charlie would be
perfectly content if he and Other Charlie and Tiberius never found their way
out of this strange place. Sure, he wasn’t happy per se… but his chest didn’t
hammer quite so hard here.

The
sudden roar of an engine streaking past the carriage shattered Charlie’s calm.
Starting, he thrust the door to the carriage open, peering ahead only to see
the silhouette of a large vehicle vanishing into the distance. “What–?”

“That’s
the Caterpillar,” Other Charlie explained dully from his bicycle, never once
looking back at his double.

“The
Caterpillar?” Charlie frowned.

“Yes,”
Other Charlie’s posture slipped ever so slightly. “Please, get back into the
carriage. I’ll explain.”

Obediently,
Charlie sat back onto the uncomfortable bench, closing the door behind him. At
the squeaking of the carriage’s rusty hinges, Other Charlie began speaking.

“The
Caterpillar seems to know the way out of here,” Other Charlie intoned, his
voice flat with disappointment. “It drives past us every hour or so. But it
moves so fast, I’ve never been able to catch its attention.”

Charlie
opened his mouth, about to suggest the Other Charlie honk at the Caterpillar
the next time it passed, before he remembered that Other Charlie was riding a
bicycle without so much as a bell. His face flushed, and he gave an inward sigh
of relief in his close call with stupidity.

~

It
didn’t take long for Charlie to get comfortable again; so comfortable, in fact,
he found himself nodding in and out of sleep with his head against the
carriage’s bouncing wooden frame, the lilting voice of Other Charlie echoing in
his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long he rested like this, but once, when he
opened his eyes, he found that Tiberius had apparently wandered onto his lap
and decided to stay there, nestled into Charlie, his small green head and legs
finally visible from their shell. Other Charlie was no longer humming his
jaunty lullaby. Instead, the young driver was muttering urgently to himself.

“It’s
risky, but it could work,” Charlie could barely make out the words. “They’ll
help them… maybe…”

“Er…
Charlie?” Charlie called out to the driver, careful not to disturb the sleeping
turtle. “Everything okay?”

There
was a brief silence, just as painful as the last. “Yes, I’m fine,” Other
Charlie called back. “We’re almost there. Please, rest.” And then the young boy
began humming once more.

~

Charlie
hadn’t intended to fall back asleep, but he evidently had no say in the matter
as the next thing he knew he was jerking awake at the sound of a thickening
thud. His eyes flew open as gravity seemed to lose all meaning, and the carriage
suddenly tipped over violently, sending Charlie and Tiberius careening with
fearful yelps out of the splintering wagon and onto the hard, painful asphalt.

Groaning,
Charlie struggled to clear his spinning head and make sense of his
surroundings. He could hear a man chattering urgently but couldn’t make out the
words. Despite the pain shooting through his battered body, Charlie struggled
to his feet, turning towards the voice. His vision cleared, ever so slowly, and
Charlie’s heart wrenched out of place as he witnessed the scene before him.

Other
Charlie’s twisted body and bicycle lay in front of the stopped Caterpillar… a
long, yellow vehicle which Charlie now knew to be a schoolbus. The driver paced
back and forth, his eyes wet with tears.

“I
didn’t even see him,” he wrung his hands, his eyes meeting Charlie’s with a
familiar desperation. “He just swerved in front of me.”

“Of
course he did,” Charlie shook his head. His frown felt wrong on his face.

The
bus driver made some calls and as the ambulance pulled up, invited Charlie onto
the bus. Numb, Charlie climbed the stairs and took a seat at the front of the
vehicle, ignoring the stares of his peers. When he got home, he floated as if
in a dream to his bedroom, laid down next to his homework on the carpeted
floor, and closed his eyes. He could hear Other Charlie, and his song– One, two, three, two, three, two, one—only
it was slower, sadder.

Charlie
stared at the immobile ceiling fan, breathing in and out as if he was tasting
air for the first time.