A Writer Looking to Change the World

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Friday, December 31, 2021

The Big Book of Enchantments, Chapter 4, Jessica's Story

   Today me, Zachary, Michael, Johnathan, Julia, and Rachel arrived at the capital. It’s smaller than I thought it would be. I know Portland is bigger but, even taking that into account, this place feels small and shabby. To be honest, it reminds me of the Citadel, in that everything here is old, about to fall apart, or both. 

   When we arrived, Michael was deeply moved. He said he’d never seen a place as nice as this. Zac said he spent a lot of time here until the head of guards kicked him out. He doesn’t think it’s all that great. My impression is that this was once a great a noble city, but as the country started to outgrow the need for a king, it’s fallen off of everyone’s priority list. There’s something great about this city, beneath all the grime and decrepitude, but it would take a strong person with a passion for change to really bring it back to its glory days. 

    Johnathan says he used to live here. I wonder, how would he like the Citadel. It’s the oldest place in the entire kingdom, or so I was told, but as we’ve walked to the capital, I couldn’t help but notice how out of place it is. When you look at pictures of the Citadel from a hundred years or so ago, it looks almost identical to what it’s like now. But even when I got to Portland, I was struck by how different it was from the pictures in my history books. I remember hearing that the Citadel was once the place every mage tried to enter, it was where all great magic was performed. When artifacts began to get traction, power was drawn elsewhere, but the mages of the Citadel were able to hold their own against the changing tide. But now artifacts have gone out of fashion. 

    I remember a visitor to the citadel telling the enchantress “This place is dead. It would be better for everyone if it was gone for good.” The enchantress was furious. I thought he was just dumb, as most outsiders are, but even the Capital has changed more than the Citadel has. My biology teacher once said that everything, dead or alive, is subject to change. When will the Citadel change?

***

    Tomorrow, Johnathan, Rachel and Julia are going to meet the king and queen to ask if they can stop the assassin that’s harassing Rachel. Zac says he’s going around town looking for wallets to steal. I’m not proud of relying on a pickpocket, but it’s hard to make ends meet just by making charms. No one wants to pay that much for them. I promised Zac I’d look after Michael. 

    My plan is to look around the capital for any news about the Enchantress. I know she’s after me for something, and she apparently went after Michael for some reason. I know she’s related to the queen’s sister, and Johnathan think’s the queen is connected to the Assassin that’s after Rachel. I’m guessing she’s plotting to usurp the throne in some way. 

    The enchantress always complained that nobody outside the Citadel took her seriously. At the Citadel, if we were ever rude to her for any reason, she would curse us. If you were lucky, you got turned into a toad. If you weren’t, you would feel total unending pain for three days. Outside the Citadel, nobody cared about her. The elders wouldn’t let her curse guests, and she knew that if she cursed anyone from the outside without very good reason, the queen would execute her. She hated that. She was the one in charge of the Big Book of Knowledge, the one artifact that the Citadel held claim too, an artifact that was built before most of the other artifacts were. It’s powerful, but so unstable that no one who isn’t from the enchantress’ bloodline can use it. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work. When I was about five, she lost her ability to use it, and now she can’t even touch it without getting burned. As time has gone on, she’s kept her position as leader of the Citadel, but has lost influence. In fact, last month, just after my thirteenth birthday, one of the teachers forgot to bow to her. You’d have thought Armageddon was coming based on the spell she let loose. 

    So, I’m guessing she’s going after people to show that even without the Big Book of Knowledge, she’s a major threat and everyone should take her seriously. I don’t honestly think that’s going to work. She’s a mage, but from what Julia told me mages fell out of fashion almost two hundred years ago. Any magic you could want is done by computers these days. 

    I need to learn more about life outside the Citadel. I was told when I was little that since I can’t cast spells, I could never be a proper mage. Julia and Rachel both say that not only have they never cast a spell on their own, they don’t know anyone who has. And they’re related to the owner of a Magitronics corporation. 

   Zac says he doesn’t know much about what normal people do. He hasn’t even gone to school in years. Michael says his teacher told him that raw magic was dangerous and if we saw anyone performing it, they should tell an adult. 

     My first memory involving magic was me accidently blowing up a wall in one of the dormitories. I can’t cast a spell, but I channel magic like crazy, and when I was very little, I was prone to accidents. Not minor accidents either. I melted books. I set tables on fire. I cause rooms to be filled with horrible voices. But when I blew up the dormitory wall, it was the last straw. The elder’s banished me to a tower high above everything, and said I could only come down for meals, schoolwork, and to study in the library. I still live there today, even though I’ve figured out how to control my magic.  I learned that if I channeled magic into something, and then used it for a spell, I could set of my magic in a way that was harmless. But that wasn’t enough for the Elders. 

    I wonder what my life would have been like if I had been born outside the Citadel. My accidents would have been a lot more dangerous for normal folk, and there wouldn’t be anyone who knew how to manage my problems. Maybe Julia’s aunt could have gotten me something to do the same job as my notebook. Every time I feel magic surging, I pull it into my notebook, and at least once a day I look through it for a spell to cast and then cast it, somewhere where nobody will get hurt. Ironically, all my practice writing, and casting spells has made me one of the best spell casters in the citadel. 

   I need to make more charms for tomorrow. I know Zac says no one wants them, but I’d like to have at least a little bit of honest money in my pocket. If I have to become a thief to survive, I will, but I don’t want to go that route unless I’m desperate. Mind you, I was perfectly honest, but the enchantress’ awful husband still stole all my money. I guess that means I shouldn’t steal. I don’t want to stoop to his level. Ever. 


Thursday, December 30, 2021

Bellevue Square Mall

    Bellevue has changed a lot in the past twenty years, but one thing that’s remained constant is the presence of Bellevue Square mall. A mall that is not aimed at the ordinary masses, but at the wealthy elites who populate the city.

    Everything about Belle-Square is built to capture wealth. The floor tile, the store layouts, the food available to eat, all of it is built to make sure you spend as much money as possible. All appeal is built on the idea that you, the consumer, want to keep up with your rich friends. So they show you the most expensive version of everything they can think of.

     Belle-Square’s other definitive trait is change. The mall has been in Bellevue since 1946, but nothing within is static. Stores come and go. Strategies change. But the mall is always as full as it can be because everyone who gets into business wants to be at the top.

    The mall is big, crowded, and overwhelming to people like me, but it’s undeniably successful. It’s the heart of downtown Bellevue for a reason. But it’s not without its flaws. It has no food court, only various restaurants spread throughout the mall, and not many places to sit. Its not a mall for everyone, and I feel as though that’s on purpose. You’re supposed to love going to a mall, not the mall itself. The mall is just where the good stores are.

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

The Big Book of enchantments, Chapter 3, Zac's story

     My friend’s call me Zac. My enemies don’t call me anything. Not because I don’t have enemies, but because all my enemies are the kinds of people who don’t care about a kid who decided to leave his family at the age of six. 

     Most people who know my story think I’m nuts. I guess I am. I was the kid who couldn’t learn anything, no matter how simple it was. I guess it makes sense I would think it was a good idea to leave home at six, and to still be on the road years later because someone like me will never learn their lesson, no matter how often it’s spelled out for them.

    I can’t even remember why it was I left to begin with. I think it had something to do with looking for my real parents. See, even though my mom and dad were alive, still are as far as I know, they didn’t like me at all. I think I had some brothers and sisters, and I remember them getting the lions share of my parents’ attention, but I don’t remember it clearly. The only thing I remember about my birth family clearly was the day I brought a report card home from school with a note saying I needed to be held back. I left the day after that.

    I can’t remember what they said that made me leave, all I remember is sitting in the closet in my room bawling my eyes out. I remember seeing a book belonging to one of my brothers or sisters, about a kid who got left on someone’s doorstep and was on a journey to find their birth family. I remember thinking “maybe I’m like that kid. Maybe my real mommy and daddy are out there missing me.” 

     I don’t know if that’s why I left. I do know that if I thought that, I didn’t look very hard. I just wandered from place to place, leaving when local residents drove me out. A few people tried to put me in an orphanage, but I just broke my way out. Nobody tried to find my birth parents. 

     But one day I found something special. I was walking one a road going somewhere, I’m not sure where, and I found a ring lying on the ground. It wasn’t anything special, just a silver band, but written on it were the words, “I will love you forever, Maggie.” When I saw it, my heart just started beating like crazy. I thought “This is it. This is how I find my family.”

    That was about two years ago. I haven’t found who, if anyone, it belongs to. 

***

    The nice thing about traveling with royalty is that nobody suspects you’re a thief. I’ve been stealing to get by ever since I left home. Jessica keeps telling me that I shouldn’t steal things because she can make charms that’ll let us get by. I say dream on. Charms are going the way of magic artifacts these days. 

   I don’t steal anything from people who’ll be ruined. I look at people and guess how rich they are and how much of jerk they are, and if I think they’re mean I swipe their wallet when they aren’t paying attention. I told Jessica this and she asked me “How do you know for sure they weren’t just having a bad day when you met them?” I said, “I don’t know, but I don’t have to look to see where they keep their wallets, so I’m willing to bet I can judge character pretty well.”

    I don’t think Jessica’s comfortable with me stealing. Why she hasn’t left I don’t know. It’s not like she has to put up with me. From what she’s told me, she left her family the same way that I did. 

    Maybe she doesn’t think she can make it on her own. She did say she comes from a high-class family from someplace called “The Citadel”. She might just need me to take care of her. Or she’s just looking to take advantage of me. 


Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Crossroads Mall

     The signs on the outside say Crossroads Mall, but it doesn’t fit the traditional image of a mall. In a mall, your supposed to come in with a wallet full of cash and leave overloaded with shopping bags. In crossroads, your meant to linger. You come in by yourself, or with a few friends, and then you sit and chat and take in the world around you.

      The heart of Crossroads mall is its food court. Most of it is ethnic food from many parts of the world, all in one place. Close to the food court is a stage where people, mostly locals, can come and perform. The music is always loud, but rarely good. It’s not supposed to be good. It’s supposed to represent the people local to the area. Most people who come to crossroads come to eat food and watch performances.

    Surrounding the food court is the shops. Most of them are small stores run by people who cater to the weirder parts of Bellevue. The exceptions are places like Old Navy and Bed, Bath and Beyond. You won’t find Nordstrom’s or Macy’s here. Those stores go to Belle-Square mall, a place not to far away from Crossroads, but a world apart in terms of experience. 

   The essence of Crossroads is belonging. This is not a place you go to because you want to feel wealthy. You come here because the people are friendly, and the atmosphere is like that of your grandparents’ house. It’s a safe place. Covid may have taken most of the second-tier stores, but it left the mall mostly intact. 

    


Monday, December 27, 2021

The playground

 In the beginning, there was only a playground.
A field,
A playset,
A neighbors backyard,
A place our parents would leave us to while away the time,
Until dinner,
Until we became exhausted,
Until we needed their attention.

We loved the playground,
Hated it when mom told us to leave,
Told friends we would see them tomorrow. 
We left,
But we came back.

We came in spite of wounds, 
In spite of fights,
In spite of bullies.
We came in spite of the pain, anger, and fear we saw.
We came because it was fun,
Because we could be free,
Because, for as long as we were there,
We could do whatever we liked.

For that time we were the hero,
Saving the innocent,
The cashier, selling goods for the public.
A firefighter,
A racecar driver,
A president. 

And then we left,
And we never came back.

All of us knew it would come,
When a bully hit or yelled, we told him we would hit back, when we were bigger.
When Father made a joke, and mother laughed, and we didn't know why, they told us we would know, when we were older.
When we were on the playground, all we could think of was the time, long into the future, when we would have all the answers.
When we could yell when we wanted to.
When we could play when we wanted to.
When we could do whatever we wanted to.
In our minds, it would be heaven,
So we left the playground.

Adults would warn us to cherish what we had,
But we did not listen.
Until we left.
Then we saw that, though we could do whatever we wanted, 
Other people wanted something else.
We wanted to find love,
But we couldn't understand the other side.
We wanted respect,
But no one wanted to listen.
We wanted fun,
But we had to pay a price.

All at once, we hit a wall.
We didn't know what to do.

Sunday, December 26, 2021

The day after Christmas

     This post is going up the day after Christmas, but it’s being written about ten days in advance. It’s nice to live in a world where you can build up a buffer. 

     I confess, I can’t think of anything I want to write about in particular, but since this is going up in that no-man’s land where Christmas is over, but the new year hasn’t arrived yet, I figure this is as good a time as any to just ramble. 

     I have to say, I’m growing to like the fact that people can read what I’m writing. I kept it private for so long because I was afraid criticism would break me, but I’m coming to accept that, in all likelihood, nobody is going to care about what I have to say. I find that a little bit liberating actually. Though one of my goals is to mentally go from “I hope nobody reads this” to “I hope everybody reads this” about my normal posts. I do hope people read my poetry. I don’t know if it’s any good, I just know that it matters to me, and I think a lot of people would, if not find meaning, at least like what I have to say. 

    I do wish I could come up with more to say in my posts. I know I could stop posting but I’m a little worried that if I cut down on posting I’ll stop posting altogether. I figure that bad writing is acceptable at this point, since nobody is reading anything, I post anyway, but later on it’ll just get annoying. 

    I think my biggest hope for the future is to be somebody’s imaginary friend. If I follow you online, there is a one-hundred percent chance I’ve tried to have a “conversation” with you in my head. I realize this may sound creepy, and in all fairness, it possibly is, but when you find socializing as difficult as I do, it’s nice to know you can have friendships where you aren’t constantly paranoid about screwing up or making someone angry, if that isn’t what you wanted. So many people have given me that over the years. Maybe it wasn’t their intention, but I feel better knowing that there’s someone I feel safe caring about, who shares my views on life. I keep hoping that I could do that for some other lonely soul who feels trapped by family who doesn’t understand them, friends who don’t like them for what they are, or a world that just doesn’t care. 

   A lot of people view the internet as poisonous den of evil, which isn’t wrong. I can’t blame people for thinking that social media and search engines have proven to do more harm than good. But it’s been my home for at least the past fifteen years. It’s where I went to read news, play games, read the life stories of strangers, and learn about the world many wouldn’t talk about, but I still wanted to see in some way. 

    I think I should make my goal building a space for people like me, people who don’t want to be evil but find it hard to be good. People who don’t fit in and don’t really want too either. People who wish they could be themselves and still live in society. I think we underestimate just how hard it is to live when society won’t accept you. We have to. Being a member of society requires that you not see those who can’t live alongside you.

    Well, that got dark. I think I’m going to end it here. Hope you had a Merry Christmas. 


Saturday, December 25, 2021

Christmas Day

    This is my first Christmas post. More accurately, it’s the first post that’s going up on my blog on Christmas. I’m writing this about a week in advance. 

    I confess, I have very mixed feelings about Christmas. It’s not that it’s horribly corporate, although it is, or that there’s so much to do it’s honestly overwhelming, it’s that I don’t like my extended family that much. 

    I have to wonder if we put too much pressure on people to have fun during Christmas. I used to love Christmas. There were presents to give and be given of course, but it was also nice to be in the presence of family members. Then I grew up and realized just how much we didn’t like each other. Now Christmas is an annual reminder to cherish people I don’t feel close to. 

    Yet part of me almost likes Christmas. Not the part where your stuck in holiday traffic or trying to find gifts that your relatives will like. The part where you’re watching a holiday movie about the importance of love and family, or seeing Christmas lights everywhere, or seeing little kids go to visit Santa. The parts that I used to love the most about Christmas. 

    I think the issue is that Christmas doesn’t feel like a real thing to me. I’m not religious, so the part where we’re celebrating the birth of Christ doesn’t matter to me, I’m too old to believe in Santa Claus, and most of my family lives out of state. Christmas is a holiday built on the promise of a better future and nostalgia for an idealized past. If you can believe in either of those things, or both at once, it’s one of the more meaningful holidays. But I feel like I should acknowledge that at this point in time, doing either is very hard. We may idealize the past, but I can’t think of a point in my life I wish could have gone on longer than it had, and like most people my age I don’t have a lot of hope for the future. 

    On the other hand, I’m a firm believer that even if you don’t think the future is going to be much better than the present, you should still hold onto hope. Change happens a lot more slowly than you think it would, so slowly you often don’t notice it until there’s no going back. So, if you want to change things for the better, you have to do it consistently. So maybe a new version of Christmas is in order, one that’s not about reminiscing about the past, or talking about the future, but one that promises to be strong in the face of adversity. One that’s about acknowledging the pain we all feel from time to time, that the world we wanted won’t come and we don’t know what we could do instead. Maybe if, like me, you think that the only real hope we have is that we still could make the world a better place, you could find people who agree with you and talk about what you want the future to look like. Not everyone wants the same thing of course, but I wonder if we even know what we want the future to be at all. It’s scary, but we can only change the future if we learn what we want from it, what other want, and try to come up with a way to make a world that would keep us both happy. 

    So, with all that said, Merry Christmas. Happy Hannukah. Happy holidays to everyone. May your family love you and your community appreciate you for all you do. 


Friday, December 24, 2021

The Big book of enchantments, chapter 3, Julia's story

Warning: the following story contains adult language       


My aunt isn’t very religious, but she says that if people think you believe in nothing, they won’t want to buy things from you. So, every week, we head off to the temple to hear about how there are gods watching us and making sure we learn important lessons so when the time comes, we can save the world. I don’t believe a word of it.

     I haven’t seen my mother in eight years. When I was really young, I lived with her and a cramped and dirty apartment. Actually, there were a lot of apartments, but they all kind of looked the same. They were always only one room, or at least only one bedroom, always falling apart, and always filled with mold. When I was small, I had terrible asthma. I don’t know why we moved around so much, but I think it had something to do with either debt collectors or gangs. I remember a lot of shady people in our apartments, and I remember my mom taking a lot of strange men back to her bedroom or chasing me out of the place we were living in. I don’t think I need to tell you why. 

    I didn’t go to school back then. I knew school existed, but mom never bothered to enroll me. As long as I wasn’t bothering her, she didn’t care what I did all day. Bothering her often meant being in the same room as her, from what I remember, so I avoided her.

     Outside was heaven. Not that anywhere we were was great, but it was much better than being with my mom and seeing what shady shit was going on. I didn’t have a lot of friends, mostly because I spent a lot of time rummaging through trash. I think I was looking for food, but I soon learned there was all kinds of stuff there if you kept looking. 

     The best trash was the stuff by rich people’s homes. If you got lucky, you could find broken Magitronics. I would collect them and try to put them back together. Sometimes I couldn’t, because I couldn’t find manuals, but sometimes I could, and I kept getting better and better. Or maybe just lucky.

    When I was seven, Mom finally had enough of me. I don’t remember what broke her. I think it was just seeing my aunt on tv and realizing she couldn’t have that life because she wasn’t that great with magic. So she sent me away to Brooks Hallow, where my aunt lived, so she wouldn’t have to see me again.

      In hindsight, I was supposed to go straight to my Aunt’s house and beg her to take me in, but young me didn’t get that Mom didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, so I figured I’d wait it out on the streets until the clock ran out, then I could go home. I had a return ticket with the departure date. So I went to the streets and lived off of what I could find and steal.

       I lasted three weeks. The police found me and realized immediately that my departure ticket was fake. They also realized that what my mother told me was mostly a lie. I didn’t want to be sent to my aunt, but when I realized the alternative was the orphanage, I let them take me there.

     I don’t know why my aunt never contacted my mother. I didn’t know my mother’s phone number, or even her name, but my aunt has more money than almost anyone else, more than enough to get rid of unwanted family members. 

     Maybe she kept me for the same reason she goes to the temple every week. One more way of assuring the public that she’s the good person she isn’t. 

    I had nowhere else to go. It was clear that most of my aunt’s servants felt the same way about me that she did, but I consoled myself with the fact that I could escape to the streets, the way I always had. That lasted until that fall, when my aunt enrolled me in school.

      I hate school, but that first year cemented that I would never excel in anything. Thanks to collecting instruction manuals, I could read better than anyone else, but I couldn’t write or do math. I was put into a class for people with learning disabilities. I hated it. I felt bored most of the time. Worst of all, my aunt didn’t want her reputation ruined when it came out that I wasn’t smart, so she had her servants overload me with as much homework as possible so I could keep up with my classmates. 

     Things got better after Rachel was born. Funnily enough, my aunt didn’t even realize she was pregnant until I pointed it out to her. I know she wasn’t showing, but it’s not like it’s that hard to tell if a woman’s pregnant. She was frightened until Rachel was born. She hates children, but I like to think she hate’s Rachel a little less. 

     Rachel’s a good kid. She’s smart, cute, great at sports, the kind of kid everyone wishes they could have. I like her mostly because when she was born, my aunt hired Mathilda to be her nanny. Mathilda doesn’t like me anymore than my aunt does, but she’s always been nice to me, and helps me when I feel like I can’t take living with my aunt anymore. 

    I can’t wait until I can leave. I’m better at school than I was, but I’ve made no friends. The only good thing about living with the aunt is that, since she owns a Magitronics corporation, I get to see them being made. I’ve learned a lot since I first got here, and I own a lot of them and can fix them up myself. The nice thing about magitronics is they don’t care about how good you are or how smart you are. If you know how to fix them, they can’t ignore you. If I wasn’t as stupid as I am, I would love to be a magitronic’s engineer. 

    I just wish that we weren’t on the run. People don’t care if we’re on the streets, unlike when I was younger. I always thought that Rachel wouldn’t have to learn what it’s like when people don’t like you. I wish she didn’t have to learn now. 


Thursday, December 23, 2021

The future

     It feels weird to be blogging right now. In theory, writing these posts is easy, all you have to do is write down whatever you think into a word document and then copy and paste it onto whatever blogging platform you use. In practice, I’ve been dealing with this weird anxiety. Humans tend to put other humans, and themselves into boxes. I’ve never had a box I felt comfortable being in, but I was always an outsider, of a sort. I’ve never been good at making friends or being totally at ease among people. So posting my thoughts on line feels a bit dangerous, I won’t lie. I think a lot of me is waiting for the moment someone posts a comment saying that I talk a lot but don’t have anything to say.

     Still, the more I think about this, the more I want to keep doing this. It’s incredibly stressful, but not the kind of stress where most of your mental energy is going towards trying to keep yourself from thinking about how bad of an idea this is. 

    I do want to be a writer at some point. I’m not sure if I want to be the kind of writer who writes deep stories for people to get lost in, or shallow stories that anyone can enjoy, but I do know that I have this world I’ve lived in ever since I was young, and I want to share it. It’s not a happy world, but it is a world where if you believe in yourself, you will eventually succeed. 

   


Wednesday, December 22, 2021

The Big book of Enchantments, chapter 3, Rachel's story

     Mathilda used to warn me to never, ever go on an adventure. Adventures don’t get work done or make the world a better place. No matter what people say about adventures, there only purpose is to see the world. They don’t promote growth, they don’t bring understanding, they don’t even help people make money. The world, she often said, would be better off if we just stayed home and did what our parents told us to do. 

    Then a man entered the nursery unexpectedly. I wouldn’t have been frightened, but Julia was there, and I didn’t want her to be hurt. Julia doesn’t have a lot of magic. So I grabbed the wand Mommy gave me for my birthday, and flung a spell at the man. I think I hurt him. I hurt a lot of people when I throw spells at them. 

    Mommy found out there was a man after me. I decided to leave. I didn’t want that man to hurt Julia or Matilda. I’m strong enough to fend for myself. But Julia wouldn’t let me leave by myself. She told me, “I know you’re a lot stronger than I am, but you’re still eight years old.” So I brought her along.

     It turned out alright. Julia’s not a strong mage, but she used to live on the streets. She knows how to live on next to nothing. That didn’t help when we had to sleep out in the open so much that my clothes got filthy and filled with holes. Then we ran out of money.

     Fortunately, Julia’s a whiz with technology, so she took on jobs for money. That meant that the assassin could follow us again, but fortunately, he isn’t that bright, so we were able to hold him off. 

    I wish we could go home. I miss Mathilda, Mommy and all our servants. Julia says we’ll be home soon, but I don’t think she means it. Julia can be mean sometimes, but she’s always been nice to me. She told me once that, “I can’t understand how you came into this family. I belong in this family but the world doesn’t like me much. I guess it’s a good thing you don’t belong in the family, because the world might just like you more.”

    People do like me a lot more than they like Julia, but people would like Julia more if she wasn’t mean so much of the time. Mathilda thinks so to. Julia says she doesn’t care that people don’t like her, but I think she’s lying. Mommy has people over for dinner, and I often see Julia in the corner looking sad when people don’t talk to her. 

   Johnathon says he can get the assassin to stop attacking me. I hope he finds a way to make Julia happy. She keeps saying that when she turns eighteen, she’s leaving us and never looking back. I don’t want to lose her. 

    Why can’t she stay with us? Why doesn’t Mommy care if Julia leaves or stays? Why did a strange woman send an Assassin after me when I’ve never even spoken to her in my life? 

    I don’t know. I just wish that Julia and I could be happy. 


Tuesday, December 21, 2021

The law of attraction

     The law of attraction states that if you want something badly enough, eventually the universe will give it to you. This is stupid for a number of reasons, but my personal issue with this law is that it assumes that you are the only person who wants things. What if you want something, but someone else wanted you not to have it? Or what if there’s only one thing and two people want it the same amount? I don’t know if I’m the only person who thinks this, but there’s something wrong with an ideology that presumes you are the only person with any legitimate power in the world.

      I don’t think the Law of attraction is real, if only because science experiments seem to yield consistent outcomes regardless of how much the surrounding scientists believe in the principles they’re studying. I assume most of the people who read this feel the same way. But in a way, I kind of want it to be real.

     In A Little Princess, when Ermengarde asks Sara if she believes her doll Emily really moves when she’s out of her playroom, Sara says, “Yes, at least I believe she can. At least I pretend I believe she can.” That’s my feeling on the Law of attraction. I don’t think it’s real, but it’s fun to believe in. It’s part of my “I have no power, but I can still change the world fantasy.” 

     But while the law of attraction gives one the illusion of power, it doesn’t really force someone to take responsibility. If you can’t prove it’s real, how can anyone prove you were responsible for something that happened? I could be wrong, but I think that if something gives you power, even imaginary power, without giving you any responsibility, that’s dangerous. A big problem I have with the world right now is that too many of us assume that people in power don’t have to take responsibility, when I think the point of having power structures is that the people in charge get lots of wealth and influence, in exchange for the rest of us holding them responsible for there actions. That way, we have less power overall, but they have to take responsibility for keeping society running. But that’s not happening. 


Monday, December 20, 2021

Christmas

I don't know what it's like for you,
But for me Christmas is 
Walking through the mall when the decorations
Go up. 
Bright lights, loud voices, music I know by heart,
A promise that this year money won't just make you happy
It'll make everyone you love happy.

I don't know about you,
But my favorite part of Christmas
Comes when it's over
And I don't have to celebrate anymore.
During Independence Day we celebrate America,
During thanksgiving we celebrate gratitude,
During Christmas we're supposed to celebrate god,
Or each other,
Or just be grateful for family.

I know this isn't true for everyone,
But I'm not close with my family,
At least, not the one's I'm related to by blood.
They aren't mean, cruel, or thoughtless,
They're just too wrapped up in themselves to care about me.

I know a lot of people
Miss when they were small,
And Santa was real.
And Christmas could be fun 
And not a chore.

I don't hate Christmas,
But I can't wait until I don't have to celebrate it anymore.
 



Sunday, December 19, 2021

The nature of fantasies

     Para social relationships are odd. I don’t know how true this is, but to me it seems like you’re either the kind of person who has Para social relationships, or you don’t have them and find the group who does have them odd and a little creepy. I’m part of the former group. If I find a creator I like, online or offline, I will imagine a conversation with them. I will also imagine the methods used to converse with the creator in question, which tend to involve chance meet ups and time travel, but all of them involve me doing something that’s pretty close to impossible, willingly having a conversation with a complete stranger. 

    Honestly, if I ever did see someone I know about from online, I can’t imagine myself even wanting to initiate a conversation. I’m a writer, the kind of writer whose favorite website is Tv Tropes, and while it’s not a common trope, if you read enough books you will recognize it instantly. I’m referring to Broken pedestal, specifically the incarnation wherein we meet the protagonist as she’s obsessing over her favorite writer, or actor, or musician, see them planning to meet their hero in real life, and then see the meeting go down in flames. Weirdly, many of these cases show that the protagonist’s idol isn’t just human, but the kind of failure few humans could possibly manage. As a result, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s best to leave your idols as they are in you’re imagination. 

    One very nice upside of doing this is that while in real life, your idols have more power and influence than you could ever hope to have, in your head the reverse is true. Maybe the celebrity you idolize is scum, but as long as you don’t meet them (or seek out too much information) you will never know if that’s true, and so they can be your friend or enemy as you see fit. 

    I confess, while I have no desire to meet anyone of my favorite creators in real life, I really enjoy creating imaginary conversation with them in my head. It’s mostly a way of taking back what power I can. Sometimes I like to pretend that if I imagine or think about something, even if I never say it out loud, I change the world in a small way. It’s silly, but when you find even talking to people stressful, your avenues to change the world are limited. I think part of the reason I’ve been writing so much lately is that I want to give people that hope, that even if it doesn’t feel like they can change the world, their actions still matter and are meaningful. I’ll admit, it’s probably a little naïve, but I’ve come to believe that power, real power, doesn’t lie in those at the top, it lies with those of us at the bottom who make the money they horde. 


Saturday, December 18, 2021

The price of fame

    It feels so weird to be writing my thoughts online knowing that people could read them. I confess, I’m a little worried people are going to hate me. Although if no one’s reading your blog, that’s kind of difficult. It’s nice to just write about what I want to write about and not worry about people reading it and getting angry with me. I do hope I’ll get enough readers to eventually make a living out of this, of course, but I do like the idea that even if I don’t get enough views to make money, I still accomplished something. 

    I confess, I almost feel sorry for the famous creators, the ones with millions of followers on whatever social media platform they use. They do make a lot of money, but every move they make is being scrutinized by millions of people. Not only that, but at that level of fame, they can’t just say whatever they want to say anymore. One wrong move and they could lose everything, and they have a lot to lose. 

   I suppose you could argue that you don’t get that famous without choosing to be, and in a way I think it’s true. If you want to be famous you have to learn how to be famous, and you have to constantly do things that increase the chances of people noticing and remembering you. But how much power do you have over how famous you become? Many child actors didn’t choose to become actors, they were pushed into it by their parents. More than a few adults created something they hoped would flop, only for it be a smash hit. That’s to say nothing of those who want to be celebrities and influencers but have no way of getting the money to get in the door. 

     In a way, I’m very lucky. I don’t really want to be famous, and I don’t have the skills or charisma to be famous. Well, I don’t know that it’s entirely accurate to say that I don’t want to be famous. I want to be posthumously famous. Nothing about me can change, and I won’t be around to hear what people say about me, good or ill. 

    But as much as I don’t want to be famous, I do still want to help change things. I don’t think you need to be famous to change things; I don’t think you even need to be wealthy. I’m not talking about recycling more, or not buying things from evil companies (not that many people in the great US of A have a choice). I’m talking about knowing what you believe in and sticking by your beliefs. I’m grateful to be alive during a time where that’s easier than ever. 

   Power doesn’t belong to the wealthy or famous, no matter what they want to believe. They have the most, but they also have the most to lose. Power, real power, belongs in those they oppress. They are the ones building society, believing in it, keeping it as real as they can. If they didn’t, the things that make those who have value valuable would fall apart in an instant. But I acknowledge, getting people to give up on the wealthy isn’t easy. We’re born to believe that wealth is special, that if you have wealth than you did something to earn it. But if we don’t think that those in charge are proving themselves worthy, I think we owe it to say something. 

     Personally, my biggest issue is that in our current system, it’s become easy for someone to have too much power, more than they could ever hope to use effectively. One of society’s biggest problems is that we keep searching for a system where everyone will be happy. That system doesn’t exist. That problem is compounded by the fact that if someone can make multiple billions of dollars, they have power of a lot of society. And since they are human, they’re going to assume that whatever works for them would work for everyone else. Be honest, would you really be different in their position? The only way to make things fair for everyone is to make sure that everyone has someone that they feel represents them. As of this moment, that isn’t true. 


Friday, December 17, 2021

The Big Book of Enchantments, Chapter 2, Jessica's Story

    Every year at the citadel, the adults would put together a camping trip that anyone under the age of fourteen could attend. I never went. I was already hated by everyone in the Citadel, I didn’t want to spend hours at a time with my many enemies without any books to read. And they wouldn’t have wanted me to come along anyway. 

    I’ve come to regret that since I left the Citadel. I read every book I could find in our library about wilderness survival, but nature doesn’t really look the same in real life. The trees are much bigger, the plants all look mostly alike, and I’m never quite sure the water’s safe to drink even after I purify it. I was so excited when I made it to Portland because I knew the food was (mostly) safe to eat and the water from the taps was safe. But we had to leave, and now we’ve been walking for days, trying to survive on what we can find or what we can get strangers to part with. Zac’s been a godsend. He’s lived on his own since he was six and knows how to appear menacing or innocent if the situation calls for it. Michael and I have a lot to learn.  

   “My father kicked me out of the house for being stupid.” He told me one day after we stopped for the night. “I couldn’t get anything over an F at school and I kept running into things at home. He told me if I couldn’t shape up I should just leave. So I did.”

    “Didn’t your mother say anything?” I asked. I know parents can be truly terrible, but I find it hard to believe that people would be cruel enough to kick their small child out of the house because he was awful at math.

   “I don’t know.” Zac said. “It was years ago. If anyone said anything, it wasn’t enough to get me to stay home.” 

   From what I understand, Michael is in a somewhat similar situation, but what I don’t understand is why his family would kick him out for trying to give his father his doll, er, action figure. I find it tacky, but if the worst thing my sister ever did was offer me her Lulu Christie dolls, we’d be best friends instead of very bitter enemies. 

    “Are you sure he wasn’t cursed?” I asked Michael at some point. In books, whenever someone does something cruel, they are either evil or cursed.

    “I don’t think so. Papa doesn’t deal with magic all that often.” Michael said. “Though he did get a bit weird after that lady came to visit.” 

    “Which lady?” I asked.

   “I’m not sure. She looked very big to me, but Mama said she’s small for an adult.” He seemed unsure.

   “Don’t you remember anything else about her?” 

   “Not really. She was a little bit like you.” He said, pointing at me, “If you weren’t standing right there, I’d forget you even existed.” 

   We sat in silence for a moment as I swallowed the urge to say, “Why thank you for the gracious compliment.” When I wouldn’t have meant it at all. Instead, I said, “Did she do any magic?”

   “Not that I noticed, but I’m not good at magic. I think she had a mages badge though.” Michael said.

   “Did she wear any fancy jewelry or have any embroidery on her clothes?” I asked.

    Michael wrinkled his nose. “I think she had both.” 

   I don’t have any proof, but I would be very willing to bet that the enchantress paid him a visit. The fact that he couldn’t remember her is a good hint in and of itself. And anyone wearing fancy jewelry who wasn’t at some sort of party probably comes from the Citadel.

   See, it wasn’t that long ago when items imbued with magic were common. Not many people could afford them but anyone who could bought as many as they could get away with. While a lot of magical artifacts had everyday uses, such as beating eggs or washing clothes, the most popular were the ones with one very specific application: killing people as quickly as possible. 

   The artifacts that could kill could be in almost any shape and size, but the most common were wands, jewelry of various sorts, and specially embroidered clothes. Whole kingdoms rose and fell because they had access to the best woods for wand making, or the best materials for fancy vests and coats. But then one day, someone discovered that you could use computers to do the same job more cheaply and with a wider access to spells. Everyone wanted a computer after that, and the old magic artifacts fell out of fashion. Except for in the Citadel. 

   See, time moves slowly in the Citadel, hence the lack of indoor plumbing or central heating. Despite the fact that Magic artifacts had been in common use for about five hundred years, they were only just starting to catch on in the citadel when computers came into use. But everyone who lived at the Citadel took one look at computers and said, “Humph, it’s useful for those who don’t already have magic protecting them. Anyone of us can do what these things can do by just thinking about it. What use have we for these little toys?” 

   As a result, they still were embroidered clothes or jewels, and that’s mainly just for show. Any mage worth their salt knows the only reliable magic is the one you can perform by yourself. So any magic artifacts we keep on us just uses spells meant to disorient or confuse, not hurt or kill. We can do the hurting and killing on our own.

    Or, at least, most of us can. 

****

   We’ve come to our first village outside of Portland. I know there was a name for it on a sign somewhere, but I don’t remember what it said. I think it was something like Dog’s End or Hog’s Breath. It’s not a very large village, but it’s the only one for miles, and the towns people all know it and as a result are charging us way too much money for everything we might have wanted to buy. 

   We can’t afford to stay at the inn, and none of us think it looks safe, so we’re camping somewhere out of town. We’d worry about getting rained on, but I brought a copy of a spell that creates a water impervious shield for a ten-foot radius around the user. It doesn’t do anything for privacy, so we often try to sleep off the road if we can. 

   We were walking away from town when we saw some travelers walking towards us. I was going to ignore them, but then I felt a spell go off. Specifically, it was the shield-masters talking shield spell, supposedly the most widely used among assassins, but in reality it’s mostly used by people trying to prank people who don’t have any magic to defend themselves. I’ve been on the receiving end of far too many of these spells. Deciding I didn’t have the energy to argue with a wannabe spell master, I opened my Big Book of Enchantments to the cancel spell and cast it. I must have been fast, for the spell collapsed in a way that suggested the caster hadn’t had time to finish casting it. I looked around for the person responsible, but didn’t see anything, although it felt like someone was using an invisibility spell not far away from where we were. Maybe I should have been scared, but I was tired of people attacking me because they think I can’t fight back.

    “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to fall for that? If you were as sneaky as you think you are, you wouldn’t attack people in a public road in broad daylight. Go back to your mother. I’m sure she’s worried about her sweet little boy missing his Din-Din.”

    I turned to make sure Michael and Zac were alright, then saw that one of the traveler’s had a sword out. “Are you really planning on fighting us?” I asked, wondering why it was I had to deal with so many idiots at once. 

    The idiot with a sword jumped and shielding it. “The sword wasn’t for you, miss, it was for the assassin who just tried to ensnare and kill us.”

  “Do you really think that was an assassin?” I said, putting my forehead in my hands.

   “Yes it was.” A shrill voice piped up. “The Enchantress of the Citadel sent it after me and Julia.”

    I turned to see what looked like a young girl and her older sister. “Did she? Did you tell her that yes, the pants she was wearing did make her butt look big?” I smiled, but I’m not sure I was joking.

   The older of the two, I assume it was Julia, turned to me and said, “I don’t know what got into that woman’s head, but she sent an assassin after us, so far we’ve managed to avoid him, I don’t know if we’ve just gotten lucky or if assassins are normally this incompetent. I really hope I don’t have to learn.”

     I wish I could say I was surprised, but I’m one of the few people in the world who know just how mean the enchantress can be when she doesn’t get her way.

   “So are you on the run until he gives up in disgust?” I asked. I figured that if I knew what was going on, I might be able to help.

    “No,” said the idiot with a sword on his back, “I’m taking them to the capital city, where my mother can sort out this mess for them.” 

     “You’re going to the capital city?” I said. “Do you mind if we tag along?”

    “What for?” He asked.

    “Firstly, Michael here was kicked out of his home a while ago for reasons that sound very suspicious to me. I strongly suspect that a curse was involved, and I know the capital city has the largest library of magical tomes in the kingdom of Altra. Secondly, I just ran away from home a month ago and would like to find a place where I could live without worrying about being shipped back to my parents. Thirdly, I’ve never been to the capital City, and I would very much like to see it for myself.”

  “You ran away from home?” He asked me. 

  “If you’d spent you’re entire life in the Citadel of Magic, you’d have run away from home too.” I replied.

    He looked at Zac and said, “And what about you, are you on an errand for your parents?”

   “Nah,” He said, “I’ve been on my own for about four years at this point. I just go wherever they won’t throw me out.”

    “You don’t have a family?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

    “Is it any of your business?” Zachary replied.

    He shrugged and said. “Well, alright then. If we’re going to be travelling together, we may as well introduce ourselves. My name is Johnathan, and this is Rachel and Julia.”

    “I’m Jessica.” I said. “And this is Zachary and Michael.”

    “Can we get going?” Julia said, “It looks like it’s getting dark, and I want to be in the village before it gets too late.”

     “Why don’t we just sleep outside? I have a spell that’ll keep the rain off.” I said.

     “Does it do anything for privacy?”

    “No, but It’s much cheaper than an inn.” I said. “I don’t think there’ll be much of an opportunity to make money until we get to the city.” 

   Julia, Rachel, and Johnathan exchanged glances. “True enough.” Johnathan said. “Fine, then, let’s find a place to camp.” 


Thursday, December 16, 2021

A standard for people to aspire to

    I got my Associates in Science in 2019. Before that, I was in college for six years. I remember it being fun for the first few years, but the longer it went on, the harder it got to fight the sense that I was marching towards eternal doom. Every teacher I’d met since about high school talked about how smart they thought I was, and let me tell you, when you’re smart, people think that you should be doing things for the benefit of society, things like being a scientist, or a businessperson, or really any sort of person who works with numbers.

   I hated that so much.

   Chemistry was fascinating, parts of the math were interesting, and I still find myself fascinated by computer science, but mostly I was just thinking, “This is the rest of my life, working for someone else and hoping to god they don’t figure out that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. The only way I can live in this world is to do what somebody else wants me to do the rest of my life with no input of my own, ever.”

    Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I quit. Or rather, I stopped passing any of my classes. Let me tell you, it’s hard to pay attention to a subject when all you can think is, “I don’t want to do this anymore” especially when the course load is so high you can only keep going if you pay attention to two of your courses at a time. When it became clear that I couldn’t keep going in college, I was so relieved. I finally had a good excuse to just be done with it all. My mother didn’t see it that way. But by that point, I’d gotten used to the idea that we wouldn’t see eye to eye.

   What kept me going through that awful time was art. Specifically, the people I follow on the internet. To me, there are two kinds of art, the kind that rich people say we’re supposed to like, and the kind most of us actually enjoy. I prefer the latter. I think that the kind of art most people enjoy, the simple, straightforward, undetailed art we love when we think no ones watching, has a lot more societal significance than anything that gets put on cliffs notes. If only because you can look at that sort of art, and think “I could do that, I could absolutely make that sort of art if I wanted to.”

   One of the things I like about this blog is that I can make that sort of art, and there’s every possibility that someone who’s in the position I was in a few years ago can look at my blog and go “I can write posts like this. I can write stories like that. Even if I don’t get a job people consider useful, I can still contribute to society.” That thought, honestly, has made me feel so much better. Maybe I’m not a great writer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t inspire the next great writer. 

   I got my Associates in Science in 2019. Before that, I was in college for six years. I remember it being fun for the first few years, but the longer it went on, the harder it got to fight the sense that I was marching towards eternal doom. Every teacher I’d met since about high school talked about how smart they thought I was, and let me tell you, when you’re smart, people think that you should be doing things for the benefit of society, things like being a scientist, or a businessperson, or really any sort of person who works with numbers.

   I hated that so much.

   Chemistry was fascinating, parts of the math were interesting, and I still find myself fascinated by computer science, but mostly I was just thinking, “This is the rest of my life, working for someone else and hoping to god they don’t figure out that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. The only way I can live in this world is to do what somebody else wants me to do the rest of my life with no input of my own, ever.”

    Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I quit. Or rather, I stopped passing any of my classes. Let me tell you, it’s hard to pay attention to a subject when all you can think is, “I don’t want to do this anymore” especially when the course load is so high you can only keep going if you pay attention to two of your courses at a time. When it became clear that I couldn’t keep going in college, I was so relieved. I finally had a good excuse to just be done with it all. My mother didn’t see it that way. But by that point, I’d gotten used to the idea that we wouldn’t see eye to eye.

   What kept me going through that awful time was art. Specifically, the people I follow on the internet. To me, there are two kinds of art, the kind that rich people say we’re supposed to like, and the kind most of us actually enjoy. I prefer the latter. I think that the kind of art most people enjoy, the simple, straightforward, undetailed art we love when we think no ones watching, has a lot more societal significance than anything that gets put on cliffs notes. If only because you can look at that sort of art, and think “I could do that, I could absolutely make that sort of art if I wanted to.”

   One of the things I like about this blog is that I can make that sort of art, and there’s every possibility that someone who’s in the position I was in a few years ago can look at my blog and go “I can write posts like this. I can write stories like that. Even if I don’t get a job people consider useful, I can still contribute to society.” That thought, honestly, has made me feel so much better. Maybe I’m not a great writer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t inspire the next great writer.

Wednesday, December 15, 2021

The Big Book of Enchantments, Chapter 2, Johnathan's story

    I was the crown prince not that long ago. Heir to a grand and magnificent kingdom. A kingdom as old and vast as time itself. In every library in every province there are books dedicated to our grand and magnificent history. I was to rule over that. I would have been a kind, just and fair ruler. I would be the kind of ruler everyone says is amazing, without actually describing what about me was amazing. That was the future planned for me at birth. And I threw it all away.

    I left home not long ago with nothing but the clothes on my back, a sword from the armory, and what money I had in my dresser drawer. I’ve been wandering aimlessly for about three months now. I keep waiting for the moment mother sends out an officer to find me and bring me home, but that hasn’t happened. I’m beginning to think it never will.

   Who am I kidding? Just because I was first in line for the throne doesn’t mean that I would have been an even remotely decent ruler, even if I’m the tallest in my family. Everything requires so much administration that my father barely has any role to play in our leadership anymore. Or so I’ve been told at least. My mother likes to say that our role is to hold the kingdom together in a way that politicians could never do on their own. If that’s the case, couldn’t they hire an actor to play king? It would be a lot more convincing than seeing me kissing babies.

     “HELP!”

     Oh goodness, what now. There seems to be a young woman in distress. Well, I wouldn’t be a trained knight if I couldn’t save a damsel. “Don’t worry my lady, I’ll save you!” I cry out, before lifting my sword and charging in. Then I feel it, a strong net of magic surrounding me. And not just that, there’s a soft hum in the air. I know this hum. Every heir to the throne is trained to sense it from the time their old enough to lift a sword.  There’s an assassin nearby.

   “Come at me, foul fiend, and face me honorably in a fight to the death.”

   A voice speaks without sound. Clearly, this assassin is highly skilled. “Do you think that’s wise, young fool?”

   In truth, I don’t, but my fighting master always told me “In the heat of battle, never show fear.” I take a fighting stance and say as loudly as possible “Wisdom has nothing to do with true bravery.” Not the best fighting words, I really should have practiced this more before I had my first fight to the death.

   “What are you doing, idiot, you’ll just get us both killed. If you don’t have any fighting skills, then get out of the way.”

     I turn to the young woman and yell, “If you would kindly shut up, I’m trying to save you from almost certain death. This assassin is truly ferocious, if you were to fight him without help, he would kill you instantly, before cutting up your corpse to send back to your family piece at a time.”

    “What are you talking about? You’re the idiot trying to fight with a sword. Nobody with any sense fights using swords anymore. Did you grab the family heirloom on your way off to have your first adventure?”

    “Hah”

    A bolt from the heavens, or rather something that feels an awful lot like a bolt from the heavens, strikes some where close to us. I’m about to yell at someone for nearly roasting all of us, before realizing that the strange net surrounding us as vanished. I can’t tell for sure, but I think the assassin is gone. I doubt he or she is dead, no assassin worth their salt doesn’t prepare for the worst, but for now we seem to be safe.

    I turn to the young woman to thank her and see a young girl by her side. She seems to be about seven or eight, if I had to guess I’d say eight, with shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. Her clothes look expensive, or at least they look too expensive for anyone who isn’t very wealthy to buy for their children. She’s holding a stick up into the air, or maybe it’s a wand. All of the wands we have at the castle are handmade by the best craftsmen in the land, and I’ve never used one that wasn’t ornately built. But this wand, if it is a wand, is little more that a stick that’s been sanded smooth. It doesn’t seem to have been built to hold spells in it for more than a few seconds. But then again, the reason why every member of the royal family is taught swordplay is to make our opponents underestimate us, so we can get them with a spell we have prepared in advanced. My father taught me that the only way we could win was to make sure our opponents never knew how strong we actually were. Maybe this wand, if it is a wand, works by that same principle.

    “Good morning young lady,” I say, bowing to the little girl, “Do we have you to thank for saving us from that dastardly, devilish assassin.” 

    “Yep,” she says, cheerfully, “I kept trying to attack him, but he wouldn’t stay still. But when you started arguing with Julia, he just froze in place, so I could take him out with a spell instantly.” She shook her head somewhat sadly, “He’s been following us for days, but every time he’s tried to kill me, we’ve taken him out in less than a minute. I don’t think whoever’s paying for his services was willing to get the best, if you know what I mean.” She says with a wink.

     I know I do. People in the court are a lot more subtle with the things they say about politicians, even my father and mother. My father doesn’t do a whole lot, but he could still make life unpleasant if some one makes him too angry, or so my mother says.

    “I don’t think he’s a low-class assassin. Low class assassins can’t afford high level spells like that. Then again, it’s hard to find someone highly skilled who doesn’t have morals. Luckily for us all.”

    “So what exactly was your plan there?” The young woman asks.

     I turn to look at her. She looks about fifteen I’d say, with most of her head shaved except for a small patch at the top of her head. Her clothes don’t look as expensive, but they’re too well maintained for her to be a simple member of the populace. Looking at her, I have to assume that she’s related to the little girl, for they have the same hair color and eyes, and nearly the same face shape. The young woman doesn’t seem to like smiling, though.

    “Before revealing my amazing and incredible fighting secrets to you, I’d very much like to know your name.”

    “Why, so you can harass me?”

     “Oh, my, no, it’s so when I get threatening letter telling me I’ll be killed, I’ll know exactly who they’re from.” I try to smile so that she knows I’m joking. She doesn’t seem to find it funny.

     “I’m Rachel,” The little girl says, “And this is my cousin Julia.”

    Julia turns to Rachel and says “Rachel, don’t tell strangers your name. Don’t you remember that the reason we’re fleeing from Brooks Hallow is that Mildred Stonebridge paid for someone to kill you?”

    Stonebridge? Why does that name sound so familiar? I think for a minute, and then I remember, it was my mother’s last name before she married my father.

    “Would this Mildred Stonebridge be related to Regina Laurence Stuart by chance?” I ask.

    Julia turns to me and says, “How would I know, until a few months ago, I didn’t even know she existed. She came to visit my aunt Cecilia about six months ago and all she did was try and suck up to my aunt as hard as she could. It’s too bad she has no skills anyone would want at this point. When she left, we all just kind of forgot about her you know? She’s just not a memorable person.”

    I try and think back to what I’ve heard of my mother’s relatives. I know she was born in the citadel of magic, and I know she had three sisters, one older and two younger than her. I don’t recall her saying all that much about them, only that the only one of the girls who stayed in the citadel was her older sister, and that was only because she had to.

   “Does this Mildred Stonebridge originate from the citadel of magic by chance?” I ask.

    Julia squints. “I don’t remember. I think so though. I remember her going on and on about her origins, but my aunt said it wasn’t anything worth bragging about.”

   “If this is Mildred Stonebridge of the Citadel of Magic, then you might be in luck. My mother’s maiden name was Stonebridge. If you were to talk to her, we could get this cleared up and your cousin could go back home.”

   “And what if this isn’t Mildred Stonebridge of the Citadel of Magic? Will we be stuck wandering forever looking for somewhere that assassin won’t come after us?”

    “Of course not. My mother has friends in very high places. I’m sure she could pull some strings to make sure you and your cousin will be able to go home safely.”

   Julia looks at Rachel, “What do you think, Rachel?”

   Rachel shrugs, “I don’t think he’s lying Julia. If he’s right, then we’ll be able to go home without anyone getting hurt.”

   “I guess it’s worth a shot then.” Julia says.

                                                                           ****

   I didn’t think I’d be heading home so soon. I know it’ll be at least a week before we get to the capital city, but I’m already feeling very nervous.

   It’s about an hour before we reach a dirt path. “I think if we follow this path, we’ll reach the main road eventually.”

    “What, do you have some amazing sense of direction or something?” Julia asks.

     No, I say, pulling out one of the maps I bought when I first left home, “I’ve been wondering around for a few months now. I’ve learned a few tricks to navigate. This looks like a human maintained path. It should connect up with the main path eventually. All roads lead to the capital after all.”

    “Your mother lives in the capital city?” Rachel asks.

    “My entire family does.” I reply.

    Rachel looks at me for a moment, then asks, “You wouldn’t happen to be Crown prince Johnathan, would you?”

    I startle, then say, “What makes you say that?”

    “You’re from the capital, and you’re wandering around the countryside with a sword strapped to your back. Mama says that nobody outside of the royal family uses swords anymore. I’ve also heard that the crown prince disappeared a few months back, and you said you’ve been wandering around the countryside for a few months.”

    I think for a bit. I’m going to have to tell them eventually. “Yes, I am the Crown prince.” I say. Perhaps it would have been better to say that I was the crown prince.

   Julia glares at me, “Then why aren’t you back home learning how to be a king?”

   “I was… uh… exiled from the court.”

    Julia raises an eyebrow, “Why didn’t I hear about it then?”

    “I don’t think you would have been important enough to know.” I say, as haughtily as I can.

    “My Aunt runs the Corden Magitronics Corporation. If it happens, she knows it.”

     I have to think. What would happen that would cause me to get exiled that someone as important as the head of Corden Magitronics wouldn’t know about it.

    “My parents tried to keep it quiet. I was deeply embarrassing. If anyone knew about it, it could result in the monarchy being abolished.”

    “Then why are you heading back?”

    “Well, I’m a good citizen of course, and a prince must work hard to make sure all injustices are corrected promptly, no matter how far away from his throne they are.”

    “You do realize neither of us believes a word you’re saying, right?” Rachel chimes in.

    I sigh. I don’t know what to say.

   “Just tell us the truth.” Julia says. “I won’t trust you until you do.”

   “Alright, I, well, I couldn’t…” I trail off.

   “What?” Julia says, angrily.

   “I couldn’t take it anymore.” I burst out.

    Julia looks at me and folds her arms. “Couldn’t take what? The lavish meals, the pretty girls, the endless and interesting conversations with head statesmen?”

    “No. I mean, those parts were, nice enough, I guess. It was everything else that was too much.”

   I pause. I’m not used to talking about this. Not even mother and father know about this.

  “When I was younger, I thought being a king would be fun. You know how it’s like in stories. Kings can say whatever they want, and nobody can complain. But as I got older, more and more people wanted things from me. First my parents, then my father’s court, then the servants, then every single visitor we had. And I started seeing just how little power we have anymore.”

   I stop to catch my breath. Looking at Rachel and Julia, they don’t seem surprised.

  “I tried to keep everyone happy, I really did. But right before I left, everyone just started yelling at me. I’m not even sure what they were angry about anymore. When I finally got some time to myself, all I could think was ‘We don’t even really run the country anymore. My father even says he could get an actor to replace him, and he doesn’t think anyone would know. Why am I even here?’ I left that night.”

  “You didn’t think anyone would miss you?” Julia burst out.

  “Look, I know my mother and father are probably worried sick. I’m also certain that there’s a lot of jostling for position in my absence. I don’t care. I can’t take it anymore. If anyone gets up in my grill, I’ll abdicate.”

   I have to take a breath. It’s hard to talk about this. I’m the heir to the throne. I shouldn’t be so weak.

  “Look, I don’t care if you don’t want to be king. More than a few people I know wish that we didn’t have a king anymore. What I don’t like is you running out on your responsibilities like that.” Julia looks at me and takes a deep breath, “When I was seven, my mother sent me on a train to Brooks Hallow. I remember her telling me before I left that I needed to work for my aunt to pay off her debts. Or something. I don’t really remember. I just know that when I got there, I discovered that she lied, and my aunt didn’t want me at all. To top it off, it was a one-way ticket. I’ve spent the past eight years at my aunts praying I don’t get kicked out.”

    “Why didn’t you get sent back to your mother?” I ask.

    “I don’t know if they couldn’t find her or if she didn’t want me. No one answers if I ask. I think at this point if I do have to go back to living with her, I’ll get legally emancipated.” She looks at me. “Look, my aunt may be mean, but she knows she doesn’t like kids. When Rachel was born, she got a nanny to look after her and I, so neither of us sees her all that often. When I lived with my mother, we were always on the edge. That wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d liked me, but she hated me even more than my aunt does. I still have nightmares about the places we used to live.”

    I don’t really know what to say, so I say, “I’m sorry.”

   We all pause for a minute. “Look, this was all very enlightening, but we need to get going. I don’t think this would be a good night to sleep outside.” I pull up my map to look at it, “Looks like we’ll reach a village if we follow this road.”

   “How can you tell? I don’t see any signs.” Rachel says.

   I show her my map, where the road is glowing. “The royal family learns a lot about old magic. One of the spells we use most often is a spell to tell where you are on a map.” I fold up the map and put it under my arm, “Shall we get going?” I ask.

    “Yes let’s” Rachel says, “I’m tired of sleeping outside.”

                                                                          

 

Tuesday, December 14, 2021

Confession

   I recently looked up how long it takes for blogs to get traffic, and the article I found told me that, if you’re doing everything right, it should take about three to six months to get traffic. I confess, I was kind of relieved when I saw that.

   Everything that offers advice to novice writers talks about how crushing it is to get criticized. I confess, I’ve never been criticized, at least, not for work I thought didn’t deserve criticism. See, I’m one of those people who catastrophizes constantly. I worry all the time about what will happen if I screw up, and I’m always afraid that I will. It doesn’t help that I’m very, very prone to panic attacks, especially in situations that my brain finds stressful.

  As a result, I almost never show my writing to anyone, and I’ve never posted things online where I thought people were likely to see them. I think I’m a good writer, but that kind of thought only last until someone points out all the ways you screwed up. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.

   Truth is, I’m not worried about someone criticizing my writing. Considering how rarely I edit my work before I post it, I’m certain it’ll start happening when/if someone finds my blog. What really scares me is the possibility that I won’t be able to handle it. I find it really difficult to judge how I’ll be able to cope, sometimes I can keep my cool in a situation one day, and other days my anxiety will decide to ramp up for no reason. I want to think I can just brush off criticism and move on with my day, but I’m not sure.

  To be fair, I could just turn off the comments if it’s too much for me to handle. But I don’t want to be the kind of writer who stagnates. I want to be a good writer, not live in a fantasy where I already am a good writer.

   And also, there’s this poem I wrote last year, back when the George Floyd protests were in full swing. I just started writing my thoughts about what life felt like at that time, and I remember thinking “In a few months, this won’t even be relevant.” To my surprise, the general mood of that moment held on for longer than I thought it would. I finished it a few weeks ago, and I think I want to share it with the world. I don’t think it’ll change things, but I think it reflects the mood of people at the moment, at least in America, and I find that if I can put my thoughts into words, I feel a lot better. It’s my way of making sure I’m feeling something real I guess. My mother told me to send it somewhere to publish it, and I would if it wasn’t for the fact that most of the places that would publish it won’t let you publish it somewhere else if it gets accepted. Given the fact that nobody knows about me, so it’s entirely likely that any sight that would accept it won’t get enough traffic for it to gain traction, I decided it was better to publish on my blog. At least, once it starts to gain traffic. I don’t even know if it’s really a good poem, I’ve spent too much time on it to be able to tell anymore, but I want to give it the best chance I can. If it was a novel, I’d feel differently, but since it’s just a poem, I don’t think it’ll make a lot of difference.

   I have to admit, the idea of fame is scary to me. I’ve read so many horror stories about how fame ruins people’s lives. But writing matters to me in a way that so much else doesn’t. It’s not that I have something important to say, it’s more that I just want to feel like I’m allowed to say it. I’ve gone through so much of my life feeling like I have to keep quiet so that I don’t accidentally upset people. I do think that it’s important to be careful so that people don’t get hurt, but I still wish I could talk to someone about what matters to me and not have them get angry at me. I’ll admit, there’s a lot I don’t know, and there are a lot more people who are better qualified to talk about this. I also know that it’s very likely that my opinions don’t matter, and whether I say these things or don’t, it won’t make a difference. But I became I writer because I don’t want to believe that that’s true, and I keep hoping that someday, somehow, I can help people. I may not be able to raise people up, but if I can get people to talk about what’s bothering them, that’ll be enough. I may not be able to do anything that can fix our world, but if I can get a few people to change their minds, that’s good enough for me. I don’t know if a better world is possible, but I write because I want to believe that it is.

Monday, December 13, 2021

Believe


Floating on an ocean of chaos, I cry

For help,

Desperate for someone to hear my voice screaming in the darkness.

Trapped in this never ending night,

I fear for those who no longer cry.

 

Somebody give me hope, in these last dark days

As the moon starts to wane.

Give me something to believe in:

Biology, psychology, astrology

I don't care.

I just need someone who cares

About me.

A god who won't abandon us in our darkest hour.

 

Let them nurture me, hold me, kill me.

Let me hold on until I'm pulled into the deep, never to surface again.

 

Opening my eyes, I see something that defies description.

It's not darkness, or light,

And I can't make out any solid objects.

Is this what nothing is?

Am I seeing the end of the world?

 

How can I hold onto hope

When even darkness has abandoned me?

Is this the fate that awaits us all?

Am I seeing the future?

 

God,

Wherever you are,

Whoever you are,

Hear me,

Hear the voices of those who can no longer speak.

Hear us as we beg you to bring back the world we once knew.

It wasn't perfect, It wasn't great, most  days it wasn't even good,

But even in our darkest hour

It was home. 

 

The sun crests over the horizon.

The nightmare is over at last.

I'm home.

And yet nothing's as it should be.

When I look, everything looks normal, but when I close my eyes

Everything feels wrong.

 

Why?

I thought things would get better.

Yet no matter how much time passes, things only seem to get worse.

Have you truly abandoned us

Oh ye gods of the past.

 

Give us something to believe in, in these last dark days

As the moon starts to crest.

Give us a god who can bring us together

The way gods did not so very long ago.

Jehovah, Yahweh, Allah,

Buddhism, Hinduism, Wicca,

Or any of the others.

I don't care.

I just want a world that feels safe,

A world that wants me

Not just for the work I do

But who I am as a person.

I want a community that's safe,

A neighborhood that welcomes me.

And most of all, when I close my eyes,

I want to see something.

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