Short Story – Inklings Fiction

The Cambridge’s Final Voyage

Kinn System

“She’s nearly ready to be scuttled, sir,” First Officer Reddy says with a salute.

Looking out of the bridge’s forward viewing area, Captain Mali can’t help but sigh.

Floating haplessly through space ahead of them is the Cambridge, an old frigate that had seen more action than most, but it hadn’t seen nearly enough to earn its salvation. The ship had fought alongside Mali and his ship, the Adelaide in the Corva Uprising.

Now the ship was about to join the countless others that had been intentionally crashed into one of the planets in the Kinn system, where the wreckage would be slowly picked through by salvagers, robots, and scavengers who thought they’d make a quick buck.

“We’re certain that there’s nothing else we can do with her?” Mali asks his First Officer.

Mali had been doing all he could for the past few years to save the Cambridge.

For Mali, this was a personal fight to save the old ship.

During the Corva Uprising, the Coalition-planted insurgents had commandeered a ship and sent it hurtling toward the Adelaide. The Adelaide, a large, lightly armored, semi-clumsy battle cruiser. Since the ship was still going through its shakedowns, it had a larger crew than usual, and it wasn’t ready for combat.

Chuckling, Mali recalls how he had summed up the situation afterwards, We were sitting ducks and the insurgents were like hawks, swooping in for the kill.

Out of nowhere, the Cambridge dropped out of warp and then raced between the Adelaide and the ship that the Coalition insurgents were using as a massive battering ram.

The Cambridge took the hostile ship along its portside and Mali had thought that everyone aboard the ship had to of been killed—or, if nothing else, the ship had to of been disabled.

But then its forward thrusters roared to life, pulling the Cambridge away from the now stricken insurgent ship which was largely shattered from the impact. Once it was a safe distance away, the Cambridge opened fire and reduced the remainder of the insurgent ship to dust.

Mali had reached out to the captain of the Cambridge, but he was never patched through. According to his sources, the Cambridge was on some secret mission and the captain had disobeyed orders in order to intervene in the Corva Uprising.

That decision saved the lives of Mali, and the thousands of people aboard the Adelaide.

“I’m sorry, Captain, there’s nothing left for us to do,” Reddy shakes her head, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Sighing, Mali takes a seat, and he stares at the dark hulk of the Cambridge.

Even in its current state, the Cambridge looked like a fearsome warship. Its sleek hull betrayed the ship’s ability to fly faster than even some of the fastest ships available today. The sharp edges of the remaining armor stand as a testament to the nigh-impenetrable armor that once lined the entire ship. Gaping holes up and down the ship’s length stand as reminders of the weapon systems that once occupied those same spaces.

“Such a travesty,” Mali sighs once more, “It was a wonderful ship.”

“Indeed, it was, sir,” Reddy nods.

Mali nods back and he recalls one of his more creative attempts to save the old Cambridge. This particular attempt revolved around the abilities of various skilled engineers from all over. The finished project, as Mali had tried to convince everyone, would have been one of the best fortified defense stations along the Alexandrian border. Any Coalition ship that saw the station would immediately turn back to find another way because the sheer capacity of the proposed station.

But that plan fell on deaf ears.

Everyone assured Mali that the Coalition’s days of recklessly attacking planets in Alexandrian Space was over. They said the Coalition was crumbling and they couldn’t spare the ships on such an attack.

Mali wasn’t convinced and reminded those who shot down the idea that desperation drove animals and people alike to lash out violently.

He was then escorted out of the building and sent out on a new assignment far from home.

“Sir, it’s time,” one of Mali’s officers urges from behind him.

Nodding slowly, Mali finally relents. With a nod, he gives his permission for his crew to deorbit the Cambridge, “We may proceed.”

“Would you like some privacy, sir?” Reddy asks as a few short alarms chirp over the ship’s speakers to notify everyone aboard the Adelaide that the Cambridge’s scuttling is about to commence.

“No,” Mali grunts.

Still sitting, Mali watches the scene unfold before him as the Cambridge is given the honor that it was entitled to.

All along the length of the Adelaide, colorful flares and gas canisters are shot out, illuminating and casting beautiful colors in all directions. As Mali saw things, the flares and gas canisters painted one last picture that he could remember the Cambridge by.

A light flashes to life overhead, indicating that the Adelaide is blasting its horns for the stricken ship before it, as per maritime tradition. Sure, the sound would never reach the Cambridge in the vacuum of space, but tradition dictated the need to blare a ship’s horns in order to honor the death of their brethren.

A few seconds pass and every gun on the Adelaide flashes to life as they all let off a round or two as yet another salute.

And then everything stops.

The flares that had been shot off gently die out.

The gas canisters expel the last of their contents and the clouds dissipate.

The light indicating that the Adelaide’s horns are blaring turns off.

Taking a slow breath, Mali gives the final order that he had been dreading for the past few years, “Scuttle the Cambridge.”

On cue, a small handful of deorbiting torpedoes emerge from the bow of the Adelaide.

The torpedoes aren’t much to look at, and the only thing that really set them apart from the blackness of space are their thrusters, which are slowly burning as they carefully approach the stricken ship.

A few minutes pass before the various torpedoes come to a stop on the portside of the Cambridge. Once they’re all in place, the torpedoes’ thrusters all flash as they turn to full power.

Feeling like he is watching an old friend die, Mali helplessly watches as the Cambridge begins slipping toward the atmosphere of the planet below.

Several more minutes pass and the first few signs of reentry flames start to pick at some of the sharper edges of the Cambridge as it slips into the atmosphere. Seconds later, the ship is one massive fireball hurtling toward the unforgiving ground below.

There was no going back now, the Cambridge was gone.

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Caleb Fast

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A Bootleg Christmas

*Author Note: This is a prequel/Christmas Short Story to the story: The Invasion of Allegra which is in Kindle Vella*

Watchtower XXIV, Deep Space

25 December, 2283 – 00.04

“Fahy!” Vansen whispers through the door that she had just barely cracked open.

Yawning, Fahy rolls onto his side and looks at the light that is streaming in through the crack from the bright hallway outside of his cabin. Rubbing his eyes, he asks, “Yeah?”

“Can we come in?” Vansen requests, “It’s just Boris, Fagan, and I.”

Nodding slowly, Fahy thinks about what Vansen was asking. A few beats pass and he can’t come up with any ideas. Confused, he finally says, “Yeah. Why?”

The door slides the rest of the way open, and Vansen, Fagan, and Boris slip in silently. Once they’re both in, Vansen taps on the console beside the door, and it whooshes shut. She taps in a few things on the console before she smiles and excitedly says, “It’s Christmas!”

“Christmas?” Fahy rubs his eyes tiredly, “Already?”

“Yes already!” Vansen sounds happily as she quietly claps her hands.

“She’s a little too happy about all this,” Boris chuckles.

Vansen gives Boris a playful scowl before she responds, “It’s a bit of a big deal!”

“We know,” Fagan smiles, “We all know.”

“Well, it’s a bit of a bummer since we’re not allowed to celebrate right,” Vansen sighs.

Fagan shrugs, “Doesn’t matter what’s allowed or not so long as we’ve got each other.”

Vansen smiles and nods at Fagan, “Exactly!”

“So, how are we celebrating?” Fahy asks as he swings his legs out of his bed and straightens out a few things that are in reach.

“Well…” Vansen slowly looks around before she answers, “I sort of smuggled in some gifts for all of us. I made a few things too.”

“I made a few things too,” Fagan smiles, “Been sneaking down to the maintenance area to get a chance to make things.”

“Me too,” Boris smiles. Chuckling, he adds, “Fagan and I had to hide our projects from one another.”

“D—did you get something?” Vansen asks after a few beats.

Smiling, Fahy pulls out a few small boxes. In them, there are the things that he had been slaving away at for the past few months for his team.

“I thought you’d remember!” Vansen squeals happily as she grabs the box with her name on it.

Smiling, Fahy hands out the other two boxes as he asks Vansen, “How’d you manage to smuggle in gifts?”

A twinkle in her eye, Vansen answers, “I have my ways.”

“Mysterious as always,” Fagan chuckles, “From what I heard, there were some people who owed her some favors.”

Vansen lets out a loud laugh, “That makes it sound so much easier than it was. You’ve got no idea.”

Nodding, Fahy chimes in, “I’m sure it was hard—there’s a reason why none of us were able to smuggle anything in!”

“It really was,” Vansen nods along slowly, “Well, are we ready to start opening them?”

“Let’s,” Fagan smiles, “Who first?”

“Oh, we’re taking turns?” Boris asks, his first present already halfway unwrapped.

Vansen chuckles, “Of course, we are civilized, after all!”

Smirking, Fagan says, “Well, Christmas is here to celebrate Jesus and he said whoever is first will be last so… Boris, I guess you’re up!”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Boris lets out a very sarcastic laugh before he turns his attention back to his gift from Fahy. A few moments later and Boris is poking at the small machine that Fahy had made for him.

“It’s a little farmer!” Fahy explains as he points out the small mechanism which is working slowly, “See how it’s using that thing like a hoe on the dirt? I thought it’d remind you of home!”

Boris chuckles and smiles slightly, “It does, that’s super neat. Thanks.”

“Alright, now I’m curious!” Vansen blurts out as she rips open her gift from Fahy. Once it’s open, she examines it and smiles, “It’s a cow!”

“Just like the ones on your ranch, right?” Fahy asks, his heart in his throat as he hopes that she likes it.

Vansen looks up from the cow after a few beats and assures him, “It’s awesome, thank you, Fahy!”

“Good, I’m glad you like it,” Fahy smiles back as he lets out a very quiet sigh.

Everyone else opens their various gifts and each gift is very well received. After a long while, Fahy is holding the very last gift.

“Well, you’re finishing things off, Fahy,” Vansen notes, “Hope you like it.”

Looking at the gift, Fahy briefly wonders what Vansen was able to make and what she could have smuggled all the way out to their Watchtower. The small, wrapped box isn’t large, but Fahy had suspected that it was impossible to smuggle anything larger than that out here.

“Well, are you going to open it?” Boris asks.

Nodding slowly, Fahy proceeds to begin unwrapping the gift. When he finishes, he sees that there are two boxes.

When Fahy hesitates, Vansen speaks up again, “The one on top is what I smuggled in, the one on the bottom is the one I made.”

Letting out a long sigh, Fahy stops and says, “Thank you all for this. As much as I’d like to be back at home with my family for Christmas, you all made this Christmas something special.”

“Oh, you can’t go and say that before you open your present!” Vansen laughs, “And besides, we haven’t even finished the party! Things are just getting started.”

Smiling slightly, Fahy presses his point, “All the same, you guys are the best. I hope we can keep doing this when this is all over—”

“You mean when we’re not in the middle of a deathly cold vacuum that could kill us and that the only thing keeping us alive is this little tin can?” Boris cuts in.

Fahy chuckles, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I don’t know if I’d like to stick around with you weirdos if I don’t have to,” Boris says sarcastically.

Vansen elbows Boris and then looks around. Smiling, she lets her head lull to the side slightly and she sighs, “I’d like that. You all are something else, and I think my family would love you all too.”

“Mine too,” Fagan chirps.

“Same here,” Fahy smiles, “Let’s just hope that we can get home sooner rather than later so we don’t have to spend another Christmas way out here.”

“And so I don’t have to go through so many hoops trying to get you all gifts!” Vansen adds with a laugh, “I mean, you guys are great and all, but sheesh!”

“And so I can just buy you guys your gifts,” Boris teases. Holding up a hand, he points out a few burns, “You have no idea how much of a struggle it was to make all your things.”

Fahy laughs and nods, “I think it would all be a lot easier back home. A lot less people to try and sneak things by that way too.”

Shaking her head, Vansen scoffs, “You guys don’t even understand how much of a struggle it was to make it through all the trainings and whatnot they forced me through to become an officer. If I stuck to the rules like I’m supposed to, we’d all be stuck in the brig for this.”

“And we’d be dead not long after that,” Fahy adds the grim caveat that they all knew was the truth.

“And we’d be dead,” Vansen echoes in agreement.

“Well, open your thing already, Fahy!” Boris urges, “I’m ready for our Christmas dinner!”

“Christmas dinner?” Fahy asks, his ears perking up.

“Oh, unwrap it already!” Vansen laughs, “Stop getting distracted.”

Chuckling, Fahy shrugs, admitting defeat at long last. He was, in fact, stalling and he knew it.

Turning his attention back to the present, he gently unwraps the bottom box.

“It’s a miner!” Vansen tells him, “I know it’s just a figurine and can’t move like yours do, but—”

“It’s awesome,” Fahy cuts Vansen off, “I love it.”

Fahy is slowly turning the piece over in his hand as he admires Vansen’s work. Sure enough, the figurine is a very well done miner and they are in the middle of swinging a pickaxe. Fahy knew full well that Vansen likely spent just as long as he did, if not longer, making this present. He also knew that she must have spent a lot of time coming up with something that would be the perfect gift for someone like him who spent so much of his life belowground working the various mines around his home on Allegra.

“The second gift—the one I smuggled in—is the other part to this one,” Vansen explains, “Go on, open it!”

Nodding obediently, Fahy opens up the next gift and is greeted by the sight of a chunk of iron pyrite.

“It’s fool’s gold!” Vansen pipes up.

Chuckling, Fahy rolls the piece of metal between his fingers as he recalls the story that Vansen had likely used as inspiration for this gift. That story, as Fahy had told it, had taken place maybe ten years before. Fahy had been working an abandoned part of one of the mines he worked in an effort to find something worthwhile to make a name for himself and hopefully breathe some new life into his town’s mine which had been struggling as the ore dried up. As he had been digging, he found some iron pyrite and was convinced it was gold. After running through town and making a complete fool of himself, Fahy had been informed that his discovery was nothing more than fool’s gold and that he was the fool.

“Just like your story,” Vansen continues, confirming Fahy’s suspicion.

Smiling, Fahy looks up at Vansen and says, “Thanks, Vansen, this is great.”

Vansen takes the two gifts from Fahy and then puts them together so that the miner figure is preparing to strike the lump of fool’s gold instead of empty space. Handing it back, she smiles and nods, “I’m glad you like it.”

“Well, with that out of thee way, that means it’s time for some chow!” Boris announces as he sets his presents aside and pulls out his bag.

“I guess it is,” Vansen nods as she pulls her own bag out and starts laying out small bags of food, “I had to pull some strings for these too.”

Smiling, Fahy takes a bag that Vansen hands him and he does his best to help finish laying out their little Christmas meal.

When the meal is all set up, Vansen looks out the window behind Fahy and sighs, “Despite everything else, we sure have a lot to be thankful for too. I mean, just look at that view.”

Turning, Fahy sees that they are looking over the whole of the Milky Way.

“Yeah, that’s a view alright,” Boris nods, “Makes me think about how small everything is in the grand scheme of things.”

“Come on, guys, let’s eat,” Vansen says after a few moments.

Turning back to Vansen, Fahy smiles and nods in agreement, “Let’s.”

“Prayers first,” Vansen reminds everyone as she stretches out her hands.

Taking Vansen’s hand, Fahy nods, “Prayers first.”

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Reference Point

Janell looked at the track and stroked her dragon steed, “We can do this, girl…” She looked at her best friend, “Ready, Taliba?”

Taliba smiled nervously, “I think so. I’m so excited! But nervous.”

“Yeah, It’s always like that- I remember the first time I raced! I almost got sick!”

Taliba giggled, “Yeah, I remember.”

Janell began to speak again but a man stepped out in front of the line of riders.

“Ready?” He shouted. Janell and Taliba mounted along with all the other dragon riders.

“Get set!” Janell made sure her safety rope’s hook was on right, checked her compass and then her speed meter to be sure they were working. Then she checked her footing and glanced at Taliba, giving her an encouraging smile.

“Go!” Swooshes, claps, and shouts filled the air as the racers and their dragons lept into the air. Janell gripped her saddle tight as Kendra, her dragon, flew vertically up.

“Level out!” She shouted. Kendra spread her wings to glide then forced them back pinning them to her body and dove. Janell knew that gravity’s pull would help give them speed with less work from Kendra. As they sped up the ground moved closer to their sight,

“Kendra! Up!” Janel instructed. Kendra spread her wings again and flapped to keep her built up speed but to stop their approach to the ground. Janell glanced quickly around to mark where the other riders were and see if Taliba was alright. Taliba waved slightly and smiled competitively. Janell grinned.

“Okay, Kendra, keep going!” She shouted, “Let’s try and pass Roc and Mysty!” Kendra obeyed and flapped hard speeding up their approach. The form of Roc and Mysty got closer and closer. Janell glanced behind her and noticed several others were also gaining on them.

“Keep going!”

“Reference points*,” Janell thought, “Since the grounds moving, we must be.” She looked at the closest approaching competitor, “He doesn’t appear to be moving from me as the reference point so we must be traveling the same velocity*.” She looked at her compass and speed meter, “North at 150 feet a second.” She smiled and patted Kendra, “Keep it up girl!” Janell looked at the approaching figure of Roc and thought, “He must be going under the speed of 150 because we are catching up.”

Roc glanced over his shoulder and scowled. “Think you can pass me, Janell?” He shouted, “I win every year, and you know it. You’re last every year, so forget it looser.”

Janell frowned slightly, it was true she always lost but he didn’t have to rub it in.

“We can do it, girl,” she whispered, “We aren’t going to give up are we?” Kendra shook her head in agreement and raised her wings then forced them down pushing through the air as hard as she could. A burst of speed responded and they zoomed closer to Roc and his steed.

Janell looked down to the path they were following and saw that it was turning, “Kendra! We need to change velocity, North-East at the speed of 140; we have to slow down a bit because of the poles they set up this year!”

Kendra made a clicking sound in reply and allowed herself to glide into the turn, the wind pushed against her and slowed her down to the needed speed. Jenell looked in front and noticed Roc hadn’t changed directions or slowed down. He continued straight as if to cut by the winding path and head immediately into the straight path.

“That’s cheating!” Janell thought, “But it is quicker… And none of the judges are out here…” For a moment she almost turned Kendra, but shook her head, “I’m going to do this right. That’s not what God would want me to do. *He’s my steady reference point, I’m suppose to look at Him for guidance. He never moves in His perfect ways so neither should I move from doing right.”

She smiled and looked forward as she and Kendra approached the poles and began navigating between them. “Left! Right! Left!” Janell shouted the instructions in a sing-song voice to keep a pattern. They made it past the obstacles and she looked behind her again. She smiled seeing Taliba behind her but no one was catching up to her. All she needed to do was to pass Roc. She looked ahead and tried to locate him.

“He’s already so far away! And he still seems to be moving away from me! He must be going really fast!” Janell shook her head and sighed.

“Kendra we have to go faster to catch up to Roc! Think you can speed up?”

In response, Kendra flapped faster and harder and Janell could see that from her seat on Kendra’s back they were getting closer.

“Yes!” Janell exclaimed, “Keep going, Kendra! You can do it!” Roc and his mount got closer and closer. In agitation, Roc looked back and kicked his dragon faster, but still Janell and Kendra gained on him.

Then Roc threw something at them! Kendra swerved to avoid the object.

“Hey!” Janell shouted and clutched the saddle as Kendra jerked to the side. Roc sped ahead. Kendra flapped to regain her forward momentum but couldn’t seem to catch the same speed.

Taliba caught up and gave her a half-hearted smile.

“You alright?” Taliba called. Janell nodded.

She sighed as she saw the finish line approach and Roc crossed it first.

“Oh well,” Janell patted Kendra’s neck, “Better luck next time for us. At least we didn’t cheat.” Then she glanced at Taliba and laughed, “Bet I can beat you to second!”

Taliba took the challenge and shouted, “Faster, Akili!”

“Faster, Kendra!”

Kendra nodded and sped up, diving for the finish line then leveling out for landing. Taliba laughed and landed beside her. Then they waited for the other riders to arrive. Once everyone made it the dragons and their riders lined up for the announcement of the winners.

“In third, we had Taliba Justice and her mount Akili!” Janel clapped for her best friend and waved as Taliba and Akili walked to the front. Excited, Janel bounced a little awaiting the second place announcement, “Seconds better than none!” She thought.

“In second is-” the announcer paused as man walked up and whispered something to him. The announcer nodded. Janell and the other riders looked around curiously and shifted nervously wondering what could be the matter.

“My apologies, everyone, I’ve just been informed that a group of observers saw. Roc bypass the obstacles, therefore, disqualifying himself.” Janell glanced at Roc and saw his angry red face, she looked away.

“Therefore, in third place, we have Caleb Dovin and his dragon Donavin! Taliba, you and Akili are now in second place and in first place we have…” Janell grinned as the announcer exclaimed, “Janell Everest and her steed Kendra!” She squealed with delight and hugged Kendra, then she walked up to the stand.

She gave Taliba a hug and they laughed patting their dragons and smiling at the crowd as each was handed their award.

“Great flying,” Janell said and gave Taliba another hug then high-fived Dovin. The three winners exited stage high fiving and began discussing celebration with all the other competitors.

Janell looked around and noticed Roc’s absence. Curious, she looked around and noticed him standing alone near the finish line.

“Maybe I should invite him… sure he cheated and was mean but that doesn’t give us the right to leave him out… Besides, we all make mistakes and even I was tempted to cheat. He just needs a second chance- a new reference point, one that shows him the Rock that never moves. Not one that seems to be stable just because it’s moving in the same, wrong direction as oneself. We can always see clearly when we know that God is true and stable, maybe I should show that to Roc, or at least show him I’m not angry,” Janell thought. She gave a quick glance around and slipped out of the crowd, running over to Roc.

“Hey,” She said. Roc turned around and glared.

“What do you want?” He asked bitterly, “Come to make fun of me? Tell me cheaters never win?”

Janell shook her head, “No, I just wanted to say good flying- you really are great at getting Mysty to follow your commands and a really fast flyer.”

Roc blinked, “Really? You’re not mad I cheated and threw stuff at you?”

Janell shook her head, “Nope. Hey, if you want you can join us. We’re all going to go have a picnic and celebrate.”

Roc shook his head in disbelief then nodded and gave a half-hearted smile, “I guess I’ll come…”

Janell smiled and nodded, “Great! See you soon!” Then she turned and ran back to the group.

Author Notes:

*Reference Points: Janell used herself as a point of reference from her to the other rider from this point it appeared that the other rider wasn’t moving, however when she used a reference point from the ground to looked as if the other rider was moving, and so was she. Look for other instances of Reference points in the story.

Extra Explanation of Reference Points: From what you use as a reference point is very important. If you placed an object on a table and looked at it it wouldn’t be moving, right? But someone in on a dragon would think it is moving, and the dragon would look like it’s moving to you. In these instances, there are different reference points. When you look at the dragon and look at the object you are the reference point for which you are gauging the object’s movement. When the dragon rider looks at you or the object you appear to be moving because it is the point of reference.

* Velocity and Speed are two different things. Velocity has a direction and speed put together like North at 150 feet per second. See if you can find other times where Janell used Velocity.

*God being a reference point:

In this story Janell compared God to being a reference point, a Rock, and she says he is steadfast. Deuteronomy 32:31 says “Indeed their rock is not like our Rock, Even our enemies themselves judge this.” and Hebrews 13:8 says, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” So if God is our Rock and He is always the same, and all His plans are the same (Psalm 33:11), and His love lasts forever (Psalm 136), everything about Him is steadfast, then when we look to Him as our reference point for doing anything, we shouldn’t find ourselves moving away from Him; we should find ourselves in line with His word. The world’s reference point is themselves, they think their own ways are right (Proverbs 21:2) so they live gaging everything off what they think is right or is better for themselves. But only God knows what is best and His way is the only right way. For the world’s rock isn’t like ours, and when we live in a way that is different from theirs they will notice. So we should live always looking to God to do our best to follow Him and by our actions lead others to Him. (James 1:22 and Matthew 5:16)

Work Cited: Exploring Creation with Physical Science 2^nd Edition by Dr. Jay L. Wile (Chapter 9 for Reference Points and Velocity)

NASB Bible.

All pictures are my own.

Credits: To mom for taking pictures of my paintings for me, my little brothers, Mattaniah and Zechariah, for being the first kids to listen to my story, and Nastassia Naskov for helping me proofread.

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Brianna Harpel

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Passion Ignited

Screech. The cell door was yanked open causing Faye’s heart to jump. Orange light flooded the room; her eyes watered and smarted but her weak arms couldn’t rise to rub the burn. She averted her gaze to a dim corner as tears warmed her cheeks. Her heart rushed blood through her ears causing them to ring.

Shackles clunked to the ground as the lead chain was unlocked. Rusted cuffs pressed into her wrists as a man jerked her out of the cell. She shuffled irregularly down the dim corridor, dragging her feet while allowing the weight of the iron to pull her shoulders forward. Her stomach ached; her body groaned. The floor swayed beneath her. So, she focused her heavy eyes on her chains as her soul throbbed. Is this it? My God, is this the end?

Orange, gray, and brown blurred before her, prompting her to stop gazing at her cuffs and rather to the side. Though everything swirled, her eyes recognized a dirty face, ringed by unkempt hair, peering through some bars.

“Asha,” Faye mouthed but wanted to shout with joy at seeing a friend. Asha wrapped her hands firmly around the bars, smiling. Faye’s chains pulled tight; she stumbled.

“Have hope, Faye!”

A guard smacked the bar with the hilt of his sword and Asha withdrew while Faye forced herself to stand up straight. Asha called out once more,

“God is with you!”

God is with me… Thank you, Lord. I know you are… But…

The door creaked open and Faye was pulled harshly out into the daylight; hollow sound echoed beneath her as she walked up a wooden slope. A voice, firm but not harsh, came from behind her.

“You know your charge; it’s the same as all the others, and I give you the same command. Now is your chance.”

Faye turned, squinting to make out the man’s shape. The sunset behind him in a brilliant display of purple, gold, and pink. As her eyes adjusted to the sun’s glare, she saw him. He stood tall and proud above her, a royal white robe draped around him with a silver circlet on his head.

“Be free.” He said. Her chains were unlocked. They fell, thumping against the slippery wood beneath her.

“Be… free?” She looked around her. Her bare feet rested on a oil-drenched platform. Along its border were bundles of sticks and four expressionless guards with downcast eyes, prepared to set ablaze. Faye shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

“This would be your fate, but you will make the right choice. Will you not?” The man laughed. “The choice is only to bow to me in worship.”

Faye’s heart nearly stopped. Her back and legs stiffen. Then, her heart began pounding rapidly. Lord…give me strength.

“I will… but not before you.” Her voice quivered with the last word.

The sun was now behind the wall and Faye could look up without hindrance- but she didn’t dare.

“To whom then will you bow? The god you worship? This is my kingdom! You worship me, you will bow to me… or burn as a sacrifice and proof of my authority.”

Faye’s heart pounded ever harder causing her knees to shake.

“Bow to me.”

Her stomach churned. My God? Where are you? Where is your strength? Your peace? I know who you are, Lord. I believe in your hope. Make me brave… a fire of passion for you.

“What good is dying, girl? Your god has abandoned you- can’t you see? I am lord here! I decide your fate.”

He slapped his hand on the stone wall before him punctuating his statement, but Faye hadn’t noticed. Her eyes rested on a line of people being led from the jail. Beaten, starved, and weary they moved slowly, but a few held their heads up and shoulders back while returning her gaze.

Do not be afraid.

Lip trembling, she lifted her face and spoke. “No, my God has not abandoned me! Even if I can’t see Him, can’t hear him, He is still here. Whether I live or die I am in His hands.”

“Lies! How can someone be here if you can’t see or hear him? It’s an illusion. A story for weak minds- are you truly that gullible? You can see me; you can see my power. It will be by my will that you live or suffer! Bow to me.”

No, you are not an illusion, your power will be made visible through me. Lord, you are not! Make your power visible, as you did in those before me, those… those I saw… I will not!

“I will not!” She shook, but spoke confidently. “My God is the only one with that authority, in Him is my hope. If I should die then I will be with Him, but He has the power to deliver me. I will not bow to you!” The pounding in her chest lessened and she stood straighter.

The man stiffened eyes focused on her. “Then you will die. Burn her!”

Faye did not resist as her hands were bound to the pole.

Torches were tossed onto the platform which immediately erupted into an inferno.

Expecting searing pain, Faye clenched her eyes shut and pressed herself against the pole. But instead, a gentle heat wrapped itself around her. The smoke tasted dry on her tongue but didn’t choke her. Her eyes opened to gaze at the flames that twirled up her legs seemingly consuming her but causing no pain. She laughed.

“All glory to the One True God!”

Fire leapt up the pole, burning through the ropes. As soon as their grip loosened, she lifted her arms to the sky that was hidden by the smoke. Energy surged through her and she grinned. She inhaled deeply, allowing the Lord’s spirit to fill her with song. Then, she danced in the flames.

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Brianna Harpel

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We Will Not Stay Broken

August 7, 1860

Fire reflected off the black window. It was two hours before midnight and five children sat near the hearth, cookies in hand but with only a few bites taken. To the right of them, seated in a rocking chair, was their maid. An African woman in her late thirties who, until a few moments ago, had captivated them with stories.

The room adjoining had fallen deathly silent, disconcerting from the previous moaning and screaming they’d heard. In response, they too had ceased their chatter. The eldest, a boy about sixteen, stood and inched toward the door. The floor creaked under him and mud fell off in dry clumps, shattering silently. His eyes darted back toward his siblings and cousins who were huddled in a group. His twelve, nearly thirteen year old sister caught his gaze, bit her lip, and looked at him pleadingly for an answer.

“Are they alright, Josiah?”

Josiah moved closer toward the door and there was a sudden wail. Jubilant exclamations burst from the room along with deep laughter.

“Josiah! Kesia! Lydia- everyone!” The door swung open to the face of their father. A trembling smile played on his face below his sagging, purple-ringed eyes. He brushed a hand across his moist face as the kids looked on wide eyed waiting expectantly for the news.

“Come meet the newest member of our family- Rebecca Rosie Jacobs.”

Squeals filled the room as the group leapt to their feet waving their partially eaten treats. They were quickly shushed and led into the room. Three young women walked about the room, cleaning things up. Kesia, the third eldest child, watched them dump a water basin out the window then looked at the other end of the room toward the bed. Her mother laid on the sheets, nearly as white as the covers. Her father was whispering with the maid about something she couldn’t make out. She approached the side of the bed and put her hand on it. Rebecca Rosie, her skin still unwashed was already wrapped in a blanket and resting on her mother’s chest. The quilt seemed to drown both of them. Kesia wrapped her fingers in Josiah’s sleeve, giving it a tug as she whispered to him.

“Are they going to be alright?”

He put his arm around her and his other hand he placed on the shoulder of his other sister, Lydia, who stood on his left. The both looked up at him waiting for the answer. Fire light made his brown hair look golden and gave his young face a wise glow, but he was really just as clueless as they. Kesia watched his eyes glance toward their dad, now deep in a conversation with the midwives, then down at their mom. Their two cousins, Hiram and Harriet sat on the end of the bed also looking toward Josiah for an answer.

“I don’t know.” He said gently as their dad left the room, walking the midwives out. “But God does. Why don’t we pray?”

Kesia, Lydia, and Harriet nodded solemnly in reply and closed their eyes. Kesia inched her hand forward across the sheets so that it rested on her mother’s shoulder. It was quiet for a few moments as Josiah sorted his thoughts trying to think of what to say. Kesia opened her eyes again and glanced up at him as he blinked tears from his eyes and began, quoting first a scripture from memory.

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven. Thank you for bringing our mother and new sister Rebecca Rosie safely to this moment. We ask that you would continue to carry them safely to strength and healing according to your will. In thy son’s holy name. Amen.”

“And thank you that you helped Josiah get the midwives here on time.” Kesia added, “And please continue to help us all the time and take care of Ma and Rebecca Rosie. Amen.”

The rest of the group echoed the amen including their father who now stood behind Josiah and Kesia. The two turned and looked up at him as he placed a hand on each of their shoulders and gave them a squeeze. A soft smile, now without the tremble, and glassy eyes met them. He gently pushed between them and sat on the edge of the bed placing his hand over Rosie’s head. It rested perfectly in his palm as he slipped his other hand beneath her and cradled her. His wife stirred, reaching out her hand.

“It’s alright, Charlotte. I’m just showing the kids Rebecca.”

He looked up at Josiah, pride radiating from his face and slowly stood. Charlotte opened her eyes and scooched up a little to watch, smiling slightly. He carefully transferred Rebecca into Josiah’s arms. Slowly, a wide grin spread across Josiah’s face, he gazed into his new sister’s face and rubbed one of her hands. Kesia gently ran her hand through Rebecca’s thick, fuzzy, black hair. Josiah looked at Kesia.

“Want to hold her?”

Kesia nodded rapidly and held out her arms. She pressed Rebecca gently to her chest, so as not to drop her. Her heart sped up as the tiny babies breaths pressed against her. She looked at Josiah smiling excitedly, then biting her lip as she bounced slightly on her toes. She glanced at her mother who smiled, then back at the pink face of her sister. A hand came from her right and stroked the baby’s face with the back of two fingers. Kesia glanced to her side to see Hiram standing beside her and looking sheepishly at her.

Her mother’s voice softly asked, “Would you like to hold your cousin, Hiram?”

Kesia held Rebecca a little tighter and glanced at her mom then disapprovingly at her cousin. Hiram put his hands behind his back and ducked slightly as he smiled broadly. Kesia moved a step closer to Josiah.

“Yes’m, Aunt Charlotte.” He said softly.

“Kesia, why don’t you give Hiram a turn?”

Kesia looked at Josiah helplessly, thinking of all the mischief Hiram had played in the past.

“You’ll have plenty of time to hold her in the future.”

Kesia looked at Rebecca again then slowly transferred her to Hiram.

“Be careful.” She said, adjusting Hiram’s arm to support Rebecca’s head. “Don’t drop her.”

“I’m not going to drop her, Kes.” Hiram responded, but without the usual spite. His eyes were wide and his hands shook a little. He sat on the edge of the bed then passed the baby to his uncle.

After Lydia and Harriet both had a chance to hold Rebecca, they all left the room and crept silently into bed. Kesia scribbled in her journal until a pillow tossed by Lydia knocked the pencil from her hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 5, 1860

The windows rattled and howls gave an ominous undertone to the otherwise cheery clapping of rain. Kesia was watching the dark hands of her maid shove towels into the crack under the door with a distant look as she held three month old Rebecca on her lap.

“Esther, do you think they’ll be alright? The storm is awful loud out there.”

Esther sat up and put her hands on her hips. “Miss Kesia- don’ be worryin yer’self about that storm. It’s just a little rain.”

“But they’re on their way to Lancaster! What if something happens on the road?”

“The roads as ever sure as it’s been. Massa Ezra, he been that road many times now- rain or not.”

Kesia sighed and leaned back, looking at Rebecca who smiled up at her. A clap of thunder made Kesia startle, but Rebecca just cooed happily. With a smile Kesia stood and hugged Rebecca, heading back to the parlor.

She paused and looked back at Esther. “Esther, do you mind if I help with dinner tonight? I’ve enjoyed learning to bake, would you teach me to cook too?”

“Of course, Miss Kesia.” Esther smiled and stood, lifting the bucket of sopping rags and drying her hand on her apron.

“Thanks, Esther.” Kesia turned and entered the room, taking a seat on a pile of blankets near Harriet and Lydia who sat near the window working on embroidery. Or rather, as Kesia observed, Harriet was working; Lydia was watching the drops make rivers down the glass with her pink skirt bunched up around her waist and feet up against the chair’s arm-rest. She lit up when Kesia entered and slapped her stocking feet onto the floor.

“Can I hold her?”

Kesia put Rebecca on Lydia’s lap and picked up Lydia’s project.

“What are you supposed to be making?”

“Nothing, I was just trying to put a verse around the edge of my handkerchief but embroidery is so tedious.”

Kesia smiled and turned the Bible so she could see what scripture Lydia was copying. “Psalm 139?”

“Yeah- verse 14.”

“I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.”

“Yeah- it’s one of my favorites.”

Kesia nodded while reading the entirety of the passage. Lydia bounced Rebecca on her lap and read over Kesia’s shoulder. Harriet sighed and put her project down.

“If everyone is going to read something you might as well read it out loud.”

Kesia’s mother had entered the room now and she took a seat.

“Yes, Kesia, why don’t you read it aloud? You carry the Psalms with such a melodic tone, it would be a great past time.”

“Alright.” Kesia stood and began reading from the beginning. “O lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways….”

As she read, the rain seemed to patter along with the speed she spoke and the wind was a gentle whistle harmonizing with her voice. Rebecca’s eyes closed and she curled up in Lydia’s arms. The fire crackled and Esther paused her sweeping to listen.

“…Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 29, 1861

Kesia’s toes curled as they came in contact with the white powder dusting the ground outside. Her eyes observed the two sets of boot-prints leaving the house as she shivered and brushed cold specs from her blonde curls.

“Lydia, Harriet, Hiram! There’s snow!”

She turned just in time to see her sister and two cousins, still dressed in night clothes, crash together at the door and gawk outside. She smiled and her hazel eyes took on a mischievous look.

“Quick- get dressed!”

There was no need for prompting- all four of them scrambled for their rooms.

“Lydia, have you seen my wool stockings?” Kesia asked, sweeping her hand under her bed.

“No- do you have my hat?”

“It’s in here.” Kesia shoved a box across the floor and checked under her night stand.

“Harriet, have you seen my socks?”

Harriet, pulling on her own stockings, shook her head. “Did they need to be mended?”

Kesia ran out to the parlor and ruffled through the mending basket. “Aha!”

She snatched them out and ran back to the room. “Thanks, Harriet. They still have the tear but that’s alright; I’ll just wear another pair under them.”

Harriet was helping Lydia get her skirt braced and simply nodded. “Do you have some other suspenders? Lydia’s won’t clip.”

Kesia yanked a drawer open and tossed a new pair to Harriet. Lydia caught it and passed it to Harriet. “Thanks.”

Kesia grabbed her lavender dress and pulled it over her underdress. They’d all ignored the stiff crinoline and simply layered on fabric for warmth. With a flourish, Kesia dumped a stack of shawls and gloves on Lydia’s bed then pulled on her boots.

Someone pounded on the door.

“You ready yet!”

“One minute, Hiram!”

The girls heard him groan and they laughed. Each slipped on a pair of gloves, grabbed a shawl, and pulled a hat from the hat box as they made their way to the door.

“Finally!”

The front door was flung open and a icy blast of air blew their unbuttoned coats. Lydia gave them a shove from the back.

“Come on!”

They tumbled out into the snow; balls of it immediately began to fling across the path as they laughed and screamed.

“Megan, John!” Lydia shouted as she passed by a house. “Come out and join us!”

Two dark faces peeked out the door then it opened wide. “Is it all right with Massa Ezra, Miss Lydia?”

Kesia laughed and tossed a snowball lightly at the door. “He isn’t home, but come on- it’s snow! How could he say no to that?”

Megan grinned and pulled at John’s arm, whispering to him.

“Well I suppose if i’s alright…” John began then he suddenly looked past the girls then down at his feet; Megan moved a bit back behind him. Kesia looked behind her. Hiram was glowering at the door.

“Hiram, come on, it’s snow- you can’t really not want them out here! The more the merrier- we could have an epic battle!”

“My pa would beat us and them both for that.”

“Our pa isn’t like that.” Lydia objected.

“But he don’t allow it either and you know it.”

“He wouldn’t have to know,” Kesia objected. “He won’t be back for a good while. Hiram, they’d just be out here to throw snow with us. Besides, I’m sure Pa would allow it this once. It’s the first good snow this winter!”

Hiram glowered at Kesia then at Megan and John. “Go inside and don’t you be out here bothering us!”

“Yes’r, Massa Hiram.” John replied and pushed Megan indoors.

Lydia crossed her arms and scowled at Hiram while Kesia looked apologetically at Megan and John as the door closed.

Lydia’s kicked a clump of snow at Hiram.

“You mess up all the fun.”

“Oh, grow up, Lydia.” He snapped then took a handful of snow and shoved it down her back. She squealed as he took off running, immediately forgetting their feud.

Later that day after hours of playing in the snow and ambushing Josiah and his dad, they all sat inside, bundled in blankets around the fire. Rebecca entertained them with her attempts to crawl.

Kesia was listening to her father, mother, Josiah, and Hiram talk while Harriet read and Lydia drew pictures with chalk.

“The South has seceded from the States.” She heard her father say.

Hiram scoffed, “About time.”

Josiah scowled at him and looked at his father, “What are they planning on doing?”

“Nothing much I presume. They’ve gone and called themselves the Confederate States but I doubt anything serious will happen. Congress will sort it all out.”

“Sort it out?” Hiram said glowering, “When snow comes in summer! No- it’s about time this happened! With all that abolitionist junk and escaping slaves it’s about time the South stood up and had its say. Whatever happened to the right to pursue happiness, hm? The South will be ruined without slaves. They’ve gone and stated the cause that impels them to separation just like the Declaration of Independence did.”

“That same document you quote, Hiram,” Josiah responded calmly, “also states ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life and Liberty’”

“Exactly!” Hiram exclaimed, “Some people think plantation owners are some cruel monsters because of what all them abolitionist folks say but we’re all created equal and allowed to do what we please with our liberty.”

Josiah slouched in his chair and sighed. “That’s not exactly the point I was trying to make…”

“What then- don’t tell me you’re an abolitionist.”

Josiah didn’t respond and glanced at his father.

“It’s all unfair. We got just the same rights, it’s our property that these people are trying to get the government to take away! And the South has its right to abolish whatever government that tries to tyrannically destroy our well being. Wouldn’t you agree, Uncle?”

Ezra glanced up from the paper in his hand. “Well, that is certainly what some people believe. I don’t know if you understand the implications of war, Hiram. We’re talking about death and disunity in a country the fathers of that document fought so hard to create. I doubt Congress will allow such a thing as war to take place over this little issue.”

Hiram shrugged. “If you say so.”

The room fell silent and everyone watched Rebecca push herself up on her knees and reach forward. She seemed stable for a second then flopped down on her stomach. She let out a wail and rolled over, looking expectantly at the people watching her with her wide blue eyes.

As her mother went and scooped Rebecca up, Kesia scooched closer to Josiah’s chair.

“What does it mean that the South has seceded?”

Josiah slipped off the chair and sat next to her on the floor and began fiddling with some wood and metal.

“Basically it means the South has decided it doesn’t want to be part of the United States.” He bent a wire and wound it into a hole in the rod.

“Why?”

“Well.” Josiah slipped some bells and rings onto the wire. “Because Lincoln was elected with virtually no southern consent, they feel neglected and unrepresented and have therefore declared they will no longer be united with the rest of the States.”

Kesia lied back, balling her blanket into a pillow. “Why don’t they like Lincoln?”

“It has to do with something he promised: keeping slavery out of the territories. This would potentially cause unequal amounts of slave and free states.” He bent the other end of the wire and stuck it through the hole.

“And that is a bad thing?”

“For the south it is.” He wrapped a strip of leather around the rod.

Kesia tilted her head and pointed at the object. “What did you make?”

Josiah grinned. “A rattle.”

He stood and walked over to his mom. He grabbed Rebecca’s hand and put the object in it, giving it a shake. It clanked and rang. She cooed and laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July 24, 1861

The door flung open and hit the wall with a thud.

“There’s been another!”

Everyone looked at Hiram as he announced the news. The front and back of his red shirt were dark with sweat and a black lock was dripping before his wildly excited brown eyes. One suspender had slid off his shoulder and hung at his left elbow as he waved the newspaper.

Josiah and Ezra both stood while Charlotte sighed.

“Hiram, go change your pants and bring me those so I can mend the hole.”

“Here, Uncle.” Hiram tossed the newspaper expertly to Ezra then walked down the hall to change.

Kesia glanced outside to see Lydia still digging in the garden with Harriet reading nearby then walked over to look at the newspaper with her brother and father.

“What happened?”

“Another battle in Virginia.” Ezra responded. Brown curls sprung between his fingers as he sighed, thinking.

“This is the fourth real battle right?” Charlotte asked, walking over with Rebecca at her breast.

Ezra nodded. “It’s only been a few. I honestly don’t believe it will go on much longer.”

“But what if it does?” Kesia asked.

Ezra was silent a moment as he gazed at his wife and then at his youngest child. His shoulders slumped. “Well, I may enlist.”

“Ezra!” Charlotte exclaimed.

Ezra put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “It’s my duty to the unity of this country, Charlotte.”

“You can do your duty without fighting, Ezra, think of your family. Rosie isn’t even a year yet!”

“I know- and I’m not enlisting yet, I simply said it is something I am possibly considering,” he said gently, “And I am thinking of this family. I’m thinking of what could happen if this war goes on. The Virginias aren’t so far from here.”

Charlotte seemed to want to say something but Ezra gently wound one of her stray blonde strips of hair around his finger and stroked her face.

“Alright.” She said. “Alright, we can talk about this later.” She pushed his hand away and smiled at him.

Hiram had returned by now and dropped his torn pants in the mending basket. Charlotte nodded at him then walked to the door to check on the Harriet and Lydia while Ezra took a seat to read the rest of the paper.

“So the war continues.” Hiram said, tilting his head up. “I told you it would. The South isn’t going to be so easy and rightly so.”

Josiah sighed and shot him a look but he didn’t shut up.

“I think it’s right that they fight for what they believe. I bet my father would already be on the front lines with the rest of them if he was alive.”

“But he isn’t,” Josiah snapped. “So drop it.”

Hiram clenched his fists. “Yeah? Well I bet your Pa won’t even join the Union.”

“Well yours was a-”

Ezra rested the paper on his knees. “That will be quite enough.”

Josiah’s face flushed and he hung his head.

“Sorry, Pa. I didn’t mean it…” He turned to walk out and calm down but Hiram hissed in his ear.

“Abolitionist filth.”

Josiah made to hit him but stopped short at his father’s gaze. He dropped his hand and stalked out, ignoring Kesia’s questioning gaze.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 12, 1861

“You will do no such thing!” Ezra slammed his hand down on the table. Josiah stood pushing his chair back. Charlotte glanced at the girls and waved them toward the door.

“Pa, you know I respect you in every way. But I can not understand why you wish to enlist when you’ve got a whole family to take care of! It would be better I enlist than you- I’ll be of age next July and I want to fight for the freedom of many.”

Kesia grabbed Rebecca’s hand as she wobbled into the hall. Harriet closed the door behind them, but they all crowded against it to listen.

“I need you to take care of the family.”

“Why can’t you stay and care for the family?”

“Because you are part of it!”

“What need of we to even join in the fight?” Charlotte’s voice interceded.

“Lottie, we’ve discussed this.”

“But there are other ways-”

“We are part of the United States and I will fight for unity to remain.”

There was a crash like that of a dish breaking and silence for a moment until Charlotte’s voice spoke softly but strained.

“Even if it means losing your life?”

“Or property?” Hiram added.

“Whether it means giving up every coin and breath I own! Don’t you understand? I couldn’t care less if slaves get their freedom or not. That’s not what I’m fighting for. If this country doesn’t remain united as one we might not have a home and the freedom to call anything property. There are people who won’t have a family to return to if this battle goes on- it could even come to us and I would have the guilt of knowing I did not stand to stop it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 12, 1862

The battle on February eighth had been the deciding marker. Everyone stood outside except Hiram. Kesia looked around for him and caught a glimpse of him peeking out from behind the brown curtain. His eyes were rimmed with red- but he glared with anger. He held his chin up as if to say he didn’t care, but his lip trembled. Kesia looked back at her father who held Rebecca with one arm, tickling her with the other.

Her throat tightened and she felt her eyes begin to burn but she shook her head- she wouldn’t cry until he was gone.

He passed Rebecca back to his wife and hugged them both tightly then looked at his son. He placed both hands on Josiah’s shoulders.

“I can still go instead… it’s only a few more months.” Josiah tried to persuade once more.

“Take care of them. You’re wise and strong, Josiah. I’m more proud of you than I can ever express.” Tears flooded Josiah’s eyes and he hugged his father.

Lydia and Kesia didn’t wait for him to approach them. They both ran to hug him. Lydia jumped up and hugged him around the neck. He squeezed them both tight.

“I love you my beautiful princesses.”

Kesia didn’t try to hold the tears back anymore. “Be careful, Pa.”

“How long will you be gone?” Lydia asked.

“I pray it won’t be long.” He whispered.

“We’ll pray too.”

He smiled and slowly released them; Lydia dropped back to the ground then wrapped her arm around Kesia. He stepped in front of Harriet who was sniffing and staring at the ground.

“Can I have a hug from my neice?”

She sniffed again and her lips twitched up in a slight smile as she nodded and gave him a hug.

“You’re turning into a lovely young lady, Harriet. Your parents would be proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

She let go and wrapped her arms around herself. He gave her a pat on the shoulder then looked toward the window. Hiram snapped the shade shut.

He turned back to his wife and gave her a kiss then pat Josiah once more on the shoulder. The door eased open a crack and Ezra spoke loudly.

“Tell Hiram I’m proud of him, too.”

The door closed again.

Ezra sighed and looked at his family then mounted his horse.

“I love you all.” He said softly, then kicked his horse.

Kesia watched him ride away noting, for a February day, it was unusually warm. When she could no longer see him she looked up at the sky. The sun was bright and high without a single cloud. She gave Lydia, who was still clinging to her side, a squeeze then whispered as she blinked back tears.

“Lord, please bring Pa home. Let this war end soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 11, 1863

Kesia snapped her hand away from the top of the fabric where the tip of a needle glinted in the light from the window.

“Ow!”

Harriet huffed and dropped the shirt she was sewing to her lap. “That’s like the tenth time today, Kesia!”

“Well, sorry if sewing isn’t my expertise!”

Harriet reached over and snatched the fabric that was suppose to become a pair of pants. “Your stitching isn’t even straight and it’s too wide, it’ll come undone to easy.”

“Well at least I’m in here doing it willingly.”

Harriet tossed the fabric back to Kesia and leaned back in her seat. “I’m in here willingly. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be in here at all.”

Lydia smirked. “You were all but bribed, Harriet.”

“Threatened is more like it- wash laundry and hang laundry or sew.”

“Washing and hanging is your only chore.” Kesia said while tying off the short thread. “Rosie, can you get me some more thread?” Rebecca squealed with delight and dropped her doll, running for the sewing basket.

“Yes, but when it’s all but snowing outside? It’s practically a death sentence! Of course I would choose sewing instead.”

Rebecca ran back with the spool of thread, grinning widely, then tripping over the edge of her gown and landing sprawled at Lydia’s feet.

“You’d have bribed Megan to do it anyway.” Lydia responded while helping Rebecca back to her feet and scruffing her blonde hair. Then she held up the shirt she had sewn. “How does it look?”

Rebecca walked the rest of the way to Kesia and handed her the thread.

“Thanks, Rosie.” Kesia said and gave her a piece of a cookie. She snatched it and popped it in her mouth happily while walking away. Kesia watched her walk away grinning then looked up at Lydia’s shirt.

“Left sleeve looks a little short.”

Lydia held it out further. “Really?”

She turned toward her mom. “Is it?”

Charlotte looked up. “Sorry, Lydia, it does look a bit off.”

“I thought I’d measured right… Oh well, I’ll just cut the other sleeve to match I suppose.”

She grabbed the scissors and the measuring rod then knelt on the floor to begin fixing the problem.

“Do you think we will get a letter today?”

Harriet sighed. “It’s been three months since the last letter, Lydia, and you’ve asked that every single day. Why don’t you give up asking? None of us know any better than you.” Her last statement came out spitefully as she jabbed the needle harshly through the fabric.

Lydia sat back on her knees and frowned at Harriet, her eyes a little glassy. “I still think one will come.”

“I’m sure it will, too,” Charlotte said and pat her daughter, “It’s just the mail has been a little slow lately.” She tried to comfort. Kesia though, gazing at her from the other side of the room, could see the redness of her eyes.

“Why don’t we read a Psalm?”

Harriet groaned and slumped in her chair but then sat back up again.

Lydia grabbed the Bible and opened it up to where they’d left off.

“Psalm 121. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth…”

Charlotte leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment listening contently. Kesia gazed at her needle thoughtfully and whispered along with Lydia from memory.

“…The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.”

“Amen.” Charlotte said then the door creaked open. Lydia slapped the Bible closed and looked hopefully at Josiah.

He shook his head. “Still no letter.”

They all sighed.

Hiram walked in behind him without saying a word and went straight to his room. His face was drawn tight and he had his hands tucked deep in his pockets.

Harriet stood up and placed the shirt down. “Hiram?” He closed the bedroom door. She bit her lip and sat back down, but didn’t pick her project back up.

“Where’s Rosie?” Josiah asked. “Normally she runs to the door when we get back.”

Everyone sat up suddenly and looked about.

“She was just here!” Kesia exclaimed and draped the shirt over the side of the chair. Lydia put the Bible back on the hearth and dropped to her hands and knees, looking under the chairs and tables to see if Rosie was hiding.

“I’ll go check the bedrooms!” Charlotte said.

Kesia and Harriet both made for the kitchen.

“Rosie!”

“Rebecca!”

Shouts echoed through the house. Kesia’s heart was pounding as she yanked open cabinets.

“Rebecca Rosie Jacobs- where are you!”

“Kesia- the cellar is open!” Harriet called.

Kesia grabbed a candle and ran over. They both descended the steps and looked around. White powder covered the floor and there were little white handprints across the wall. Harriet and Kesia gave each other knowing looks. To their left they heard a sneeze; Kesia turned and held out the light to see better in the dim corner. Rosie clapped her hands sending a little puff of white into the air and giggled.

“Rosieeee!” Kesia moaned but began laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July 5, 1863

Kesia laid in bed unable to sleep. Her mind was consumed with thoughts and she could hear her mother in the next room tossing and turning, crying. She seemed to do that every night- Kesia wasn’t sure she ever slept anymore.

They hadn’t heard from Pa in over nine months now. No one even asked or looked anymore when Josiah and Hiram came back. Hiram never spoke a word and Josiah would sigh and update them on the day’s work while picking up a shirt and helping mend it or making something from some spare leather he brought home.

They had groups every now and then of ladies who would come and sew- sometimes they’d go to another person’s house. It made it feel less confining to be with others in the same circumstance.

Kesia sighed and rolled to her side, pulling at a string in her quilt.

There had been a battle a few days ago in Pennsylvania. It was hard to sleep knowing they’d only been hours away from a battle. It wasn’t even comforting to know the Union had managed to push them out.

Her eyes started to drift closed as newspaper images of battle grounds flickered through her thoughts, but a scream bolted her upright. Her hands scrambled for the matches next to her bed and she tried to light the candle, shakily.

She heard the door down the hall bang open and footsteps running toward their room. She lit the candle and turned toward Harriet who was sobbing in bed. The door swung open and Hiram was the first through. He rushed to the side of the bed and put his arm around Harriet his face full of concern.

“Don’t go away, Hiram. Please, don’t go away.” She cried and hugged him. He held her tighter and rocked her.

“I’m right here, sis.”

Josiah stood in the doorway with his mom holding a lamp. He walked to the side of Kesia’s bed.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. She must have had a nightmare.”

Lydia moaned and rolled over covering her head with her pillow. After a few minutes spent comforting Harriet, everyone went back to their own beds. Kesia kept the candle burning on the stand and watched its flame flicker in and out. Harriet still cried softly so Kesia began to pray aloud.

“Father in Heaven, we need your comfort so much right now. I’ve barely got a hope to hear from Pa now and I’m so terrified. I hear Ma crying every night and some nights the rest of us do too. Won’t you give us some comfort, some peace? Something more steady than a flickering candle flame? ‘Lord, I cry unto thee: make haste unto me; give ear unto my voice, when I cry unto thee. Let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense!’” As she quoted the scripture from Psalms 141 she heard Harriet’s crying ceace. So she continued with another- Psalms 143 beginning at the fourth verse. “‘Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is desolate. I remember the days of old; I meditate on all thy works; I muse on the work of thy hands. I stretch forth my hands unto thee: my soul thirsteth after thee, as a thirsty land. Selah. Hear me speedily, O Lord: my spirit faileth: hide not thy face from me, lest I be like unto them that go down into the pit. Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee. Deliver me, O Lord, from mine enemies: I flee unto thee to hide me. Teach me to do thy will; for thou art my God: thy spirit is good; lead me into the land of uprightness. Quicken me, O Lord, for thy name’s sake: for thy righteousness’ sake bring my soul out of trouble. And of thy mercy cut off mine enemies, and destroy all them that afflict my soul: for I am thy servant.’”

Harriets breathing was steady now and Kesia could hardly keep her eyes open. She blew out the candle.

“Thank you that you will be our refuge, Lord. Amen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 8, 1863

“So, are you looking forward to tomorrow?” Charlotte asked, trying to prompt conversation at the dinner table.

Kesia shrugged. “Yay. I turn sixteen.” She chopped her baked potato into pieces and ran them along the rim of her plate.

“We’ve saved sugar. We’ll be making a cake for both you and Rosie, it should be fun. Is there anyone you want to come over?”

Kesia shrugged again. “Josiah, what’s the draft? Someone was talking about it the other day.”

Josiah sighed. “It’s a type of system that chooses people at random to fight in the war.”

Hiram piped up. “Yeah, the Confederates set one up last year. I hear the Union set it up cause they don’t have enough volunteers.”

Josiah nodded. “Yeah.”

Hiram nudged Josiah. “Say, you can be drafted can’t you?”

Josiah nodded again. “I don’t know when Pennsylvania will pick it up but there is a chance.”

“But they can’t!” Lydia exclaimed. “Pa went to the war- they can’t take you as well.”

“If I’m drafted they can, but it’s alright, Lydia, I doubt I’ll be drafted.”

Hiram scoffed, “But don’t you want to fight?”

Josiah glared at him. “Hiram, we aren’t going to talk about this again. Pa went, we both need to stay here to take care of the family.”

“Take care of the family? Isn’t that the reason he left? See what good fighting for the Union has done. The North should have just agreed with the South and we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Hiram. We are not going to talk about this here- alright?”

“And why shouldn’t we?” Hiram stood and slapped his hand on the table. “It’s all your fault and all your abolitionist friends and the like that got us in this mess! If they’da just kept their mouths shut and stuck to their own business there woulda never been a divide, never been a war, never been a reason for Uncle Ezra to leave and we’d all be here happily eating and excited about Kesia’s birthday and happy about how Rosie turned three yesterday. He’d be here right now laughing with us, planning the cake and games instead of out there fighting and maybe dead!”

He clenched his fists and glowered at Josiah who gaped and tried to come up with a response.

“For all your speeches on freedom you can’t come up with a simple response. The Confederates are right- the people up North don’t understand. They don’t listen and all they know is what their told. Haven’t you seen the papers about the South? They’re in ruins now cause of this. Prices are crazy, people are starving, and the economy is haywire just cause the North wouldn’t be fair. And they still aren’t! Lincoln’s gone passed a law saying if slaves from the South join the Union they can be free- doesn’t he know how devastating that’ll be? He’s practically given permission to steal.”

“They want the same freedom you seem to think the Confederates need. The freedom to pursue their life, liberty, and happiness. And you seem to forget it was the South that seceded- not the North. Lincoln never even said he’d ban slavery- only that he’d keep it out of the territories! It was the South that started the first battle and it is the South that is choosing not to change their ways.”

“Or maybe it’s the North that won’t accept the South’s.”

Josiah groaned and put his head in his hands. “Hiram. Just stop. You’re acting like a child.”

Everyone in the room held their breath as Hiram’s face flushed and he took a threatening step toward Josiah but Harriet suddenly stood.

“Hiram, don’t! Just drop it.”

He glanced at his sister and straightened, turned on the heel of his boot, and stalked out of the room.

Josiah looked apologetically at everyone left in the room. “I guess I didn’t handle that very well…”

Charlotte walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Josiah. He’s got a lot of stress. We all do.”

Rebecca chose that moment to kick the table, everyone startled. Rebecca gave a grin. “Play now?”

They all smiled slightly.

“Sure, Rosie. We can play now.” Josiah said, picking her up. “Who’s up for some dominos?”

Later that night after a great evening of dominoes and card towers, terrorized by Rosie and her rocking horse, everyone went to bed feeling exhausted but cheerful.

Kesia laid on her stomach and sketched in her notebook trying to decide what to write about that evening but her thoughts were suddenly distracted by the door slowly easing open. Harriet slipped out of bed and stepped lightly over, then slipped out of the room. Kesia heard whispers through the door but couldn’t make out the conversation. Shrugging, she went back to drawing, glancing up again when Harriet entered.

She eased the door slowly open, turning quickly to close it, then hurried to her bed with her face down. The candle illuminated a wet line trailing her face.

“What happened?” Kesia asked, rolling onto her side. Harriet curled into her bed and hid under her blankets.

“Harriet?”

The pillow was pulled under the covers.

Kesia sighed and flopped onto her back, gazing at the ceiling then finally beginning to journal.

I’m so worried. She wrote in her last line before snuffing out the candle. I wish we’d get some news of Pa. Why does everything feel so broken right now?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 18, 1863

Harriet sat at the window unmoving. A group of about fifteen ladies were in the parlor sewing, chattering, eating snacks, but Harriet was entirely uninterested. Kesia came and sat beside her, two small cakes in her hand. Harriet glanced at them but sighed.

“Bet soldiers don’t even have good bread.” Harriet whispered.

Kesia looked at the cakes a second then put them to the side.

“I’m scared he’ll never come back.”

“Hiram?”

Harriet nodded. “I can’t lose another person, Kesia. I lost my parents, I’m scared your Pa is gone forever, and now Hiram’s been gone two months. What if he gets hurt out there? What if he starves?”

Kesia gazed out the window with her and put an arm around her shoulder.

“I wish I could have stopped him but he hardly let me say a word. I’m so scared, Kesia.”

“I am too…”

“And now it’s agony waiting for Josiah to return. It’s just one more person to wonder about.”

Kesia nodded. “I know.”

“How much longer do you think it’ll be before he gets back from Lancaster?”

“I pray not too long.”

“I wish I had the strength to pray.”

Kesia simply squeezed her shoulder.

“I feel like He doesn’t listen any more. If He did- wouldn’t this have ended long ago?”

“I wish I knew,” Kesia whispered.

“I guess it can’t get much worse though, can it?”

Kesia didn’t know whether to nod or shake her head. Could it get worse? She didn’t know- that was, until she saw Josiah riding up, his face pasty white.

“Oh, God. Please, no.” She whispered. Harriet paled. Kesia turned and caught the eye of her mother and Lydia, waving them toward the door. They immediately understood and excused themselves, meeting Josiah as he entered.

They didn’t speak a word, simply standing there in silence as Josiah held a piece of paper out.

“Drafted,” was the only word he spoke. His mother started crying while the other three girls stood shocked. The guests wandered over and gave sympathetic looks, patting Charlotte on the back, and hugging Josiah.

“You have our prayers.” They kept saying but Kesia suddenly felt like Harriet.

She ran to her room and closed the door, falling to the floor and crying.

“Why God? Why? Why did you let this happen? What will we do? Wasn’t it enough that this war hasn’t ended? That we still have no news of Pa? That Hiram ran off? What will we do if Pa and Josiah don’t return? Lord, what happened to your thoughts for us that outnumber the sand? Did one of your thoughts include this? What happened to your mercy that endureth forever like it says in Psalms 136?” She curled up on her side, still crying, her dark pink silk dress crinkling around her. Her chest pressed against the corset uncomfortably as her lungs heaved in and out but she simply curled up tighter. “God, please help me have faith. Help me trust you. Protect Josiah, protect Pa if he still lives. Take care of Hiram wherever he is. And help us… Let this war end soon, Lord. Please. I feel like everything- my family, my country, is falling apart. So please help me…let me mean it as I speak your verses from Psalm 9: ‘I will praise thee, O Lord, with my whole heart; I will shew forth all thy marvellous works. I will be glad and rejoice in thee: I will sing praise to thy name, O thou most High. When mine enemies are turned back, they shall fall and perish at thy presence. For thou hast maintained my right and my cause; thou satest in the throne judging right. Thou hast rebuked the heathen, thou hast destroyed the wicked, thou hast put out their name forever and ever. O thou enemy, destructions are come to a perpetual end: and thou hast destroyed cities; their memorial is perished with them. But the Lord shall endure forever: he hath prepared his throne for judgment. And he shall judge the world in righteousness, he shall minister judgment to the people in uprightness. The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble. And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee. Sing praises to the Lord, which dwelleth in Zion: declare among the people his doings. When he maketh inquisition for blood, he remembereth them: he forgetteth not the cry of the humble. Have mercy upon me, O Lord; consider my trouble which I suffer of them that hate me, thou that liftest me up from the gates of death: That I may shew forth all thy praise in the gates of the daughter of Zion: I will rejoice in thy salvation. The heathen are sunk down in the pit that they made: in the net which they hid is their own foot taken. The Lord is known by the judgment which he executeth: the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands. Higgaion. Selah. The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God. For the needy shall not always be forgotten: the expectation of the poor shall not perish for ever. Arise, O Lord; let not man prevail: let the heathen be judged in thy sight. Put them in fear, O Lord: that the nations may know themselves to be but men. Selah.’

Be my praise, Lord, be the judgment… be the refuge, don’t forget our cries. Bring my family home, please. Don’t let us stay broken forever.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 30, 1863

There were no more tears to be shed as Josiah left. The crisp autumn wind seemed to drag him away with the leaves, while they all stuck like trees in front of the house. David, Esther, Megan, John, and the few other slaves they owned had also come to see him off, but they didn’t speak a word. It seemed to Kesia as if all emotion had been sucked into a swamp. Rebecca was the only one who made any noise or movement. She ran after Josiah waving, her frizzy blonde hair dancing about her shoulders and music jangling from the worn out rattle he’d made for her.

“Siah! Be safe, Siah!” She called out, waving the instrument. He turned in his saddle and smiled.

“And you be good, Rosie.”

She laughed and nodded, waving vigorously. He waved then turned forward so that she couldn’t see the fear and tears in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 2, 1864

Kesia ran inside waving a crumpled letter.

“Another letter from Josiah!”

Everyone gathered in the parlor for her to read it.

“Dear family,

There hasn’t been a battle yet; I’m sure you are glad to hear. Honestly, it’s quite boring here and the food is terrible- but with the stories I hear at least it’s food. I’ve taken to writing stories since all I have is free time. When I finish it I’ll try to see if I can ship it to you. We do have a merry time around the campfire playing music and singing hymns but most everyone here is homesick. There’s sickness going around the camp right now- please be praying for my health. Which reminds me, thank you for the soap you sent in the last care package. It’s been very handy. I can’t believe I forgot to pack that!

Also, Daniel, a friend I’ve made here, was very thankful for the extra outfits you sent me. He hadn’t had a change of clothes in over a year! Your hard work sewing these past few years has truly been appreciated. If you could, I know another boy who needs some new clothes and a deck of cards, books, or some other game would help a lot with the activity crisis here.

I miss you all, and I’ve been asking around about Pa. So far no one has heard about him. I’ve even gone to generals asking if there’s any way that they could find out what happened to him. I hope and pray he’s still alive and pray this war ends soon so I can return.

Love,

Josiah Peter Jacobson”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 30, 1864

Kesia held tightly to the little slip of paper they had received a week ago, watching at the door.

“It said the 30th.” She mumbled under her breath. “Why isn’t he here yet?”

Her mother put a hand on her shoulder. It was thin and rough. Kesia looked up at her mother and felt her heart sink a little. There were dark rings under her mother’s eyes that had been there for what seemed like an eternity. Wrinkles had begun to appear on her face and a gray hair hung loosely.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it Ma?” Kesia whispered, turning and giving her a hug.

“It has. But he’ll be here soon.”

“How bad do you think it’ll be?”

Charlotte shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Is Rosie in bed?”

Charlotte nodded. “And Lydia and Harriet are making sure Josiah’s room is as perfect as can be. Esther and Megan have prepared a meal fit for a king, John and David are out waiting on the path ready to make sure he arrives safely. Don’t worry, Kesia, he’ll get here safe.”

“You want to go and rest while I wait up? I’ll wake you when I catch sight of them”

Charlotte shook her head. “I can get sleep when I see my baby boy back here in bed resting himself.”

“At least sit.” Kesia pulled two chairs into the hall. They both sat; Kesia held her mother’s hand.

Lydia and Harriet came out and sat on the floor, waiting.

“It can’t have been too horrible or they wouldn’t be transporting him,” Harriet assured, twisting the edge of her petticoat around her fingers.

No one responded, they simply stared pensively at the door.

The clock chimed midnight, everyone’s eyes were heavy but they kept them open.

Suddenly, Harriet began to hum, mumbling the words, “What a friend we have in Jesus.”

Lydia joined in softly. “All our sins and griefs to bear.”

“What a privilege to carry,” Charlotte breathed, “Everything to God in prayer.”

“Oh, what a peace we often forfeit. Oh, what needless pain we bear. All because we do not carry.”

“Everything to God in prayer.” Kessia sang the last line with them in a whisper.

Voices could be heard approaching from outside and the door was flung open.

“Missus Charlotte! He’s a comin’!” John exclaimed, leaning against the door frame and breathing heavily.

All four of them shoved their chairs into the parlor and piled out the door, watching the road.

A wagon rode up slowly, driven by a young man in a disheveled uniform and led by David. Next to the driver was another young man with his arm cradled in his jacket. Blood stained his white shirt which hung open slightly revealing bandages wrapped around the chest, shoulder, and arm.

Charlotte ran to the wagon and climbed on, cradling her son’s face and kissing him on the forehead.

“Josiah…”

He smiled weakly and hugged her carefully with his uninjured arm. The cart pulled up in front of the door and they clambered out. Kesia, Lydia, and Harriet allowed him to embrace them each carefully. David gave Josiah a light pat on the back.

“Good to see you back, Massa ‘Osiah.”

Josiah smiled. “Good to be back, David.” He turned around and waved at the driver.

“Thanks for bringing me here, Oliver.”

The young man smiled and tipped his hat. “No problem.” He looked at Charlotte.

“Sorry we were so late, Ma’am. The directions they gave me in Lancaster were confusing and Josiah here was out cold most the way.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Thank you for bringing him here safely. You must be exhausted. Come in, have some dinner, and if you like you can spend the night.”

Oliver smiled. “Much obliged, Ma’am.”

He hopped down. David helped him stable the horses and they all went inside.

Esther and Megan brought out the soup and fussed over both the young soldiers while everyone listened rapt as Josiah explained his injury.

“It was during the battle of Petersburg,” he explained. “I got shot the third day in and Oliver here pulled me out. With the permission of the camp doctor, I was discharged and Oliver was given the privilege of taking me to a hospital and being relieved of duty. The bullet’s been removed and I’ve been given instruction on how to care for it. I’m one of the lucky ones- I saw a lot of soldiers die from infected bullet wounds.”

His face suddenly got gloomier and he sighed, “And speaking of infections. Ma… Pa’s dead.”

Charlotte bowed her head but she didn’t cry. They’d all known for some time.

“I pulled some strings and eventually got a medical report matching Pa’s description and bearing his name. It was a bullet to the leg, when amputation didn’t end the infection it was only a matter of time.” He choked. “I never thought I’d find out what happened. But by God’s grace, I did. He was a hero. I met the kid he took the bullet for. Just a young boy- fourteen at the time. He was fighting for the Confederates but got shot and was stuck right in the middle. He stuck with the Union as a nurse after Pa saved him, that’s how I met him. Pa moved him to a safer area with a bullet already in his arm. Then another in his leg. He passed out on the edge of the battle ground, Union medics came and took them both. The boy, his name was Joseph, was there when Pa said his last words: ‘let them know I did it so we can be one.’”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 10, 1865

Kesia sat outside alone watching a monarch on a flower nearby. She glanced down at her diary where she’d written an entry, reading it again to herself and echoing the first words.

“It’s over, truly over.”

She looked over at the butterfly, and whispered to it. “Its funny, when the war began we thought it would only last a little while but here we are five years later. Whatever happened to being united we use to think. Well…I suppose we still think. We’ve got a long way to go before that.”

She rolled to her back and gazed at the sky, thinking of the last year. It had taken some time to adjust to Josiah’s return. He struggled with memories from the war and they all grieved: for their father, for the pain Josiah was in, for their country that seemed beyond healing. In time, Josiah took up their father’s work, and the home returned to a sort of normality. Kesia and her mother continued to sew for the army. Lydia and Harriet had begun to teach Megan and John to read. Rosie had grown up so much, she jabbered and caused all sorts of mischief which lifted their spirits. Her new favorite thing was to take people’s shoes and hide them.

She sat up, noticing that Harriet had come out and taken a seat on the porch.

Since it had been announced a little over a week ago that the war was over, Harriet had taken to standing on the porch, watching. Though she never said why, Kesia knew it was in hope that Hiram would come home. They’d heard nothing since he left. Grief ached and pulled her to sit next to her cousin in silence. Harriet took her hand as they sat next to each other in silence. In her heart, Kesia prayed.

“Father, unite us again under you and make all the sacrifice worth it, worth the unity Pa fought for and worth the freedom so many wanted. Make it worth the pain and horror so many like Josiah have gone through, the pain of every man, woman, and child affected by this war. I know you’re there because you pulled me through. I’d have never made it through this battle without you. But we’re still so broken down here. Some of us have yet to come home, yet to heal, yet to understand, yet to gain what we desire and we need you so much. But we will not stay broken. One day…one day the lost will return, broken things will be repaired, and this nation and family will unite again. We just need you, Lord. For yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. We have gone through the shadow of death and behold we stand at the end. Be the comfort you promised long ago, my Lord. Shepherd your people into one flock…”

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Brianna Harpel

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Liquid Monster

~Journal of the day the Japan Tsunami hit~

May 11, 2011 started like any normal day, but I remember all the details perfectly unlike any other. I’d biked to school with my older brother, Yuuto. It was beautiful out and the cherry blossoms were still in bloom, which was unusual for that time of year. I wasn’t very interested in the trees though. I’d raced inside ahead of Yuuto, slowing down once in the hall and walking to my locker looking around for Sumire, my best friend. I wanted to tell her about my birthday that was coming up and how my parents had said we could have a sleepover. I changed my shoes to my school slippers and bounced on my toes, then I saw her. She bounded through the front doors grinning and clenching her sticker book. She waved it over her head as she charged over to me, her short black hair bouncing around her face.

“Look!” She’d shouted at me, shoving the book in my hand and flipping it to a new page. She always made the pages decorative and usually placed a photo, a note, or a pressed flower in it. This particular page featured a picture of a girl, about a year old, in a Kimono.

Cho is Sumire’s cousin and the absolute cutest thing. Several other girls came over and squealed “Kawai” with me.

Sumire giggled and stuffed the book into her locker with her shoes rather than put it in her backpack. “I can’t wait to see her next week.”

As we walked to our homeroom, I told her about my birthday plans. Then, for the next few hours, the normal day’s activities commenced…. until the room began shaking.

Earthquakes, they never cease to terrify me, even more so now. This is the only moment I don’t remember clearly as I was frozen in fear. I’d never been in an earthquake so strong before. I suppose someone told us to get under our desks because Sumire grabbed my arm and dragged me to the ground. It didn’t stop shaking. Someone screamed and several girls cried. I thought it would never end. Then it finally stopped. I continued clutching the legs of my desk until I heard someone say it was alright.

When I stood, I noticed a huge crack in the ceiling. Dust was already sprinkling from it.

Sumire tapped my shoulder and pulled me into the evacuation line. We moved smoothly out onto the park where we all stood anxiously. I observed the other buildings nearby noticing one that had fallen, its red tile roof slanted in and scattered across the street. I looked around for Yuuto, but I couldn’t see him.

I’ve never been so afraid in my life as I was March 11th. Sumire tried calling her mom and dad and I texted my grandpa, but we never got to check for replies in all the running that came after. More earthquakes took place as we were led in an orderly but prompt fashion to higher ground, a nearby shrine. As we hiked up to the temple, other people from the town started joining us and parents began searching for their kids.

At the top, Sumire and I huddled together near a stone sculpture of a komainu and watched the other kids huddle into groups of friends. I finally spotted Yuuto who was running toward me. The ground rumbled again, shaking petals from the trees recklessly, just as he reached me. We stood there, looking over the city for several minutes and watching the stairs as people climbed up them. We noticed many houses were already caving and it looked like some power lines had fallen. Off in the distance there was smoke. I couldn’t have felt more suffocated with fear than if I’d been standing in that smoke myself.

It was some relief to see Sumire’s mom appear in the train of people. All three of us ran up to her. Many parents argued with teachers about whether to stay here or drive away.

I asked Yuuto if we were high enough. He promised we were. I watched Sumire and her mother leave and get into their car; it was then that I noticed it: houses disappearing in a blackish-brown haze in the distance. Silence came quickly among us at the shrine as more noticed it rushing toward us. Rushing isn’t even the right word for how it moved. It wiped houses flat in mere seconds as it hurtled closer.

I looked down at the road where cars were being scooped up and rolled amongst its debris like clothing in a washing machine, except it wasn’t cleaning. I looked desperately for Sumire’s car. I saw it. I saw it… right as the wave swallowed it. I screamed, but it didn’t stop. It leapt its way up toward us. Its muddy mass foamed like a rabid beast flicking its claws upward, it devoured everything… and roared as it did so.

Yuuto pulled me away as the water reached where we were, sweeping at out feet. We ran further up into the shrine; I saw some people lose their footing and they were sucked into the dark mass.

Yuuto and I huddled together under the bell amongst hundreds of others as the water swept beneath us dragging wood, rent metal, bodies… I closed my eyes and sobbed as I held onto Yuuto. He hugged me close, but I could still hear it. It sounded like the monster it appeared to be.

The water receded for a bit, but we didn’t consider ourselves safe. Everyone climbed higher up. I didn’t watch when a second wave rushed over, sweeping away the shrine. People were not silent anymore. I heard kids screaming and crying, calling for their parents. I heard mothers singing softly trying to keep their own horror from their voice. I heard teachers calling out names frantically, trying to make sure all the kids were still there. I heard the sound of the bell from the shrine being left by the wave, clanging against itself and the ground. I wished I couldn’t hear.

We stayed there for hours. It was cold. It smelled terrible, like salt and sewage. When we finally were told it was safe to go down, I was terrified. Yuuto kept his hand over my shoulder and I kept both arms wrapped around him as we went down the soggy slopes with our classes. When we made it back to the school, it was clear it could not be used for a shelter. Large sections had collapsed. Buildings in the area had seemingly vanished leaving only wood and mud and warped metal, many that still stood looked ready to collapse, some houses looked as if they had been turned upside down, and some burned. I wondered how they could possibly burn when they’d been pounded by the ocean.

I pulled out my phone and noticed there had been a message from grandpa before the tsunami hit. I wondered if he had made it to higher ground like he said he was heading to. I tried to message but there was no service. Yuuto squeezed me tight and when I looked up at him I could see the same fear written on his face that I saw in the other people around me. Some were covered in mud, bleeding, holding broken limbs, crying. Many held phones trying to call people but finding themselves out of luck just as I had.

Yuuto and I sat on a soggy mattress that had been swept into the schoolyard, if that was indeed what it was. One wouldn’t know by the piles of trash that had been caught by the fence. A car that was bent in two lied beside a uprooted tree as if the roots had been the vise like paws of an enormous creature. I saw a hand hanging from the car’s shattered window. I swallowed hard and wondered if it was possible that Sumire and her mother had survived. I wondered if we would ever see grandpa again. I wondered where we would go. I wondered how so much could change… It had been just a normal day.

I wonder if all disasters start like that.

Works Cited:

Gorgo, Paolo. Japan Earthquake: Internet a Communication Lifeline as Telephone Lines Fail. 14

Mar. 2011. Seeking Alpha.

https://seekingalpha.com/article/258078-japan-earthquake-internet-a-communications-lif

eline-as-telephone-lines-fail. Accessed 5 Feb. 2019.

Johnson, Marcia L. Johnson, Jeffery R. Daily Life in Japanese High Schools. Oct. 1996. Freeman

Spogli Institute. Stanford University.

https://spice.fsi.stanford.edu/docs/daily_life_in_japanese_high_schools. Accessed 5 Feb.

2019.

Oskin, Becky. Japan Earthquake and Tsunami of 2011: Facts and Information. 13 Sep. 2017.

Live Science.

https://www.livescience.com/39110-japan-2011-earthquake-tsunami-facts.html. Accessed 5 Feb. 2019.

Parry, Richard Lloyd. The School Beneath the Wave. 24 Aug. 2017. The Guardian.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/aug/24/the-school-beneath-the-wave-the-unim

aginable-tragedy-of-japans-tsunami. Accessed 5 Feb. 2019.

Shaw, Rajib. Takeuchi, Yukiko. East Japan’s Earthquake and Tsunami. International

Environment and Disaster Management Laboratory. Kyoto University.

https://www.preventionweb.net/files/27138_03mrshaw.pdf. Accessed 5 Feb. 2019.

What if there’s an earthquake at school? Kids Web Japan.

https://web-japan.org/kidsweb/explore/schools/q6.html. Accessed 5 Feb. 2019.

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Brianna Harpel

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The New Falklands Breeze

New Falkland Islands, Islas de Ligera

Santiago Pueblo wrinkles his nose trying to dissuade what his tired mind thinks is some unseen fly from landing. He continues doing so for several moments before he finally opens his eyes to see what is going on. As he does so, he realizes that a stray blade of grass had been picked up in the early morning breeze and had been fluttering in his face.

Shaking his head, Santiago chuckles and he looks out over the ocean that is spread out before him like a vast holiday meal.

It was all his for as far as he could see.

Or at least that’s what he had been told when he joined the first expedition to Islas de Ligera to colonize the planet. Only time would tell if the Dawn royals would make good on their promises to the first colonists. Such generous tracts of land and sea seemed like something they could easily take away, especially when they were the ones financing so much of the endeavors.

Maybe a hundred meters from the coastline of Santiago’s little island, a few large fish leap from the water. A cloud of trumpet fish seem to skip across the gentle waves like well thrown stones.

Santiago shakes his head once more as he considers how much care went into transporting these fish, and so many other species of fish, wildlife, and plants all this way. The cost of shipping all of his worldly belongings just a couple of lightyears took two years of saving, to think that the Dawns could send such massive colony ships the 2.6 or so million lightyears all the way to Islas de Ligera seemed impossible.

And yet they managed to do it.

And they allowed whoever wanted a free ticket to come along for the ride.

Sure, there were plenty of rules and stipulations, but it was still a generous offer when they were the ones paying for it all.

‘Keep an eye out for anything,’ was the ominous warning that was repeated to colonists time and time again on the voyage over here.

Looking out to the horizon, Santiago smiles and lets out a lighthearted chuckle, “Keep ‘n eye ou’ for what? There ain’t ‘nythin’ out ‘ere!”

Shaking his head, Santiago walks over to a nearby tree, and he drops back to the ground so he can watch the deep red sun rise over the horizon. There were warnings about this particular star being on its last leg, but the experts assured Santiago and all the other colonists who settled this system that there were still at least ten thousand years left to the star’s lifespan, and probably a lot more. Regardless of how much time was left, Santiago and the other colonists who settled this system were promised one hundred years of more or less unfettered rights to their claims. After that, it all depended on how the red sun looked to the scientists. If they thought it would last longer, then Santiago knew that his family would be allowed to remain for much more time. And, if the sun looked like it would give out, then the Dawn royals assured him that another location would be provided far from here.

The thoughts about his family make Santiago smile, and he looks over his shoulder at the home that he had picked out back on Gethsemane, the Dawn clan’s seat of power. This particular home was built on stilts, and Santiago felt like any building built near any body of water belonged on stilts. Having grown up on a swampy planet, he learned just how destructive water could be and how much tides could rise and fall. With that, and the knowledge of the planet that he was heading to in mind, Santiago made his decision, and he can’t help but feel proud of it to this day.

Sure, there had yet to be any flooding, but Santiago knew that he’d be ready should it ever come.

Stilling looking toward his home, Santiago looks to the window of his own bedroom, where he had left his wife, Grace, the night before. Smirking, he shakes his head yet again as he thinks about how territorial the woman got of the bed every time that she was a few months from giving birth. Rather than fight it, Santiago simply surrendered his spot and slept outside. He enjoyed the warm, salty breeze from the ocean. The semi-sweet scent that the early morning winds brought in from far away always energized him and made him feel like a new man.

Taking a deep breath, Santiago savors the smell of the breeze. He had chosen this particular island to be his own for many reasons; the main reason was that it was on the windward side of the New Falkland Archipelago. Having grown up downwind of a swamp, Santiago felt like he needed to be guaranteed fresh air for the rest of his days. Thus far, this planet had more than provided that.

Santiago’s eyes drop from where his wife sleeps to the window below, where his three-year-old son, Quin, and six-year-old daughter, Sariah, shared a room. Ever since Quin had been born, Sariah hadn’t let him out of her sight. Smiling, Santiago reminds himself that Quin was in very good hands should anything ever happen to him.

Life is good, Santiago continues smiling as he turns back to the waves that are moving a lot like the seas of tall grasses in the fields that stood between the home he grew up in and the swamps.

Santiago had always enjoyed watching the grasses sway in the early morning breeze back then, even though the breeze brought the smell of rot in from the swamps. His mother had always scolded him for leaving windows and doors open and letting the stink in as he watched, but he couldn’t help it. Every sunrise deserved to be watched. Every aspect of the earl morning held a beauty that few others ever got to see.

Looking to the horizon once more, Santiago can see the reddish-brown bruises and golden ribbons that paint the sky in the final moments before the sun finally broke over the horizon. Something Santiago always enjoyed was the suddenness of the sun rising. It just seemed so impossible that the sun, which seemed to take hours and hours to come close to the horizon could then pop up and be fully exposed in the span of ten minutes. Its teasing light would wake Santiago up at least an hour before most every sunrise as it illuminated the world below and chased away the stars that teased of a world anywhere other than here.

“Home,” Santiago whispers to himself, echoing the very first word that came to his mind when he first arrived on this island.

He knew that he had never been here before. He knew that the odds were against any living creature every touching the orangish-white sands of his beaches since the dawn of time. There was nothing about this place that could have possibly seemed like home to anyone else.

And yet, it called to Santiago.

Even in the arial photos called to him. Those photos were taken by unmanned drones from the spreadships that the Dawn royals had sent out ahead of the colonists to terraform planets. The photos themselves had no soul behind them to direct the cameras to things that would speak to people, as pictures taken by living and breathing photographers would, and yet, the pictures of this island spoke to Santiago’s soul.

The sun suddenly begins peeking out from the deep, deep blue ocean on the horizon. The sight of such a dark sun rising over such a dark sea always made Santiago shudder.

Behind him, the island’s sole bird begins chirping as the sun awakens it. It wasn’t often that the bird slept in this long, and Santiago can’t help but feel even more blessed that he was the only living creature here who had been able to watch the sun’s first moments in this new day.

“New days, new discoveries,” Santiago whispers to himself as he rises alongside the sun. Today, he would explore the undersea caves that he had stumbled upon yesterday with his underwater drone. New planets held plenty of secrets, and the Dawn royals paid handsomely for the best of these discoveries.

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Caleb Fast

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Warm Heart

“Whoa. Your hands are cold.” Eric Morrow winced.

“Sorry. Sorry.” The EMT shoved her hands inside her jacket. Eric tried to smile through his grimace of pain.

“I guess that’s pretty petty of me, complaining about your cold hands, Erin,” He whispered, reading her ID badge as she went back to inserting the IV. “Considering you’re saving my life.”

“My husband always complained about my cold hands,” she said with a smile. “And I don’t know about saving your life. The doctors and nurses will work on that, when we get you to the hospital.”

“Wow, that was kind of cruel – your husband should have been happy that you wanted to touch him. I’ve met a lot of ice queens who didn’t want to touch or be touched.”

“My husband wasn’t complaining, really,” Erin replied. “I do have cold hands. But he always said that meant I had a warm heart.”

“You keep talking about your husband past tense,” Eric said, struggling against his weakness to keep talking, to keep from blacking out. “Can I be nosy and ask–?”

“He passed away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. Okay, you should have less pain now, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks. That is better.”

“That’s the best part of the job, when it’s that easy to make people feel better. So, you were all done waiting for this day?”

“Yeah, they told me when I described what was happening that it’s now or never. I should be thankful this match came up at just the right time.”

“I’m sure it’s not easy to come up with a match.”

“Yeah, and they tell me I’m a rare type.”

“Wow. My husband was, too. Small world.” Erin fell silent, apparently checking something out of Eric’s field of vision.

“Hey, could you take over on this for a minute?” Erin said to her partner. “I need to make a phone call.”

“A phone call? What can be so important?” His badge read Jose, and he grumbled as he moved over to take her place.

“Trust me. This is important.”

“Mr. Morrow! Eric!”

Eric climbed mentally out of that deep white place of unknowing as the echoing voice called him.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Strangely enough, Eric had found himself unable to let go of wondering why an EMT would interrupt her care of him to make a phone call. Man, of all the things for me to obsess over.

“You’re in recovery. Technically we have to list your condition as critical, this soon after surgery, but I’m authorized to tell you that the surgery and your responses couldn’t have gone better. The team is very optimistic that you will be downgraded to stable and out of Intensive Care in record time.”

“Great. That’s great.” As glad as Eric was to hear that he was in great shape from a post-surgical standpoint, he felt beat up and beat down and just plain beat. He slipped away again.

When he awoke, his mom sat by his bedside. “Hi, sweetie,” she said, touching his hand very gently. “Dad just went to get some coffee.”

“How long?” Eric’s words stuck in the rasp of his paper-dry throat. His mother quickly got him a cup with a bendy straw.

“Sip it slow, sweetie. Just rinse a little and swallow a little.”

“Thanks.”

“The surgeon said you’ve slept for twelve hours,” his mother said with a weary smile. “They said that’s good. Even the bloodwork didn’t wake you.”

“When did you get here?”

His dad came back into the room with two cups. “Four hours ago.” He apparently read the longing look in Eric’s eyes. No, sir,” his dad said, grinning. “They’re telling us no stimulants, no nothing that they don’t put in the IV for some time.”

“I’ve heard of mainlining coffee.” Eric pouted. “Sorry to drag you guys all the way across the country.”

“Son, hearing that you finally got a transplant match was worth traveling around the world.” Eric’s father handed a cup to his wife and sat down on the other side of the bed from her. “They told us this match came up very unexpectedly.

Someone actually called in to confirm that this was your perfect donor? How does that even happen?”

Eric didn’t answer, because something reminded him of a certain phone call.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Eric’s mother started fidgeting with his covers.

“As okay as I can be with somebody else’s heart inside me. This is the part when I start wondering who it was, and how he or she died. Will who and what that person was change who and what I am?”

“You watch too many sci fi shows,” his dad grumbled. It’s a heart, not a soul. Who that person was has no effect on you.”

“Is there any way to find out anything about the EMTs who brought me in?” Eric asked after a longer silence.

“The EMTs? Why would you want to know about them?”

“Well … just one of them, really.”

Next time Eric awoke, Erin stood beside his bed. She smiled down at him. “My fingers are itching to take your vitals. How are you?”

“Good,” Eric said. “It was your husband, right? He just died? Right when I had to have the heart, or else?”

Erin made a gulping, hiccupping noise and quickly turned away. Eric couldn’t do anything but wait until she turned back around, red-eyed and sniffling into her sleeve. “Yes.”

“Well, I know one thing he was right about.”

“Okay …?”

“That whole warm heart thing. That has got to be the ultimate warm heart. That phone call you made? You were checking on my match-worthiness?”

“Sort of. When you mentioned that you were a rare type, I remembered how they had to make special arrangements any time my husband needed care, so I wanted to make sure they were completely prepared to take care of you.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“That’s the best part of the job, remember? When it’s that easy to make people feel better.”

4.8

4.8 out of 5 stars (based on 4 reviews)

October 29, 2021

I WANT MORE!!! Nice easy read, catches your attention immediately..

9707393188

October 21, 2021

Lovely story! I do wish it had gone into the heads and hearts of the characters a bit more.

Laura Sue Brewer

October 19, 2021

IS THAT ALL THERE IS?!! I WANT MORE!!

KR LaLonde

October 19, 2021

Awesome. Catches and holds the attention.

Pamela Copeland

Mary C. Findley

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The Pillars

Three Years Prior to The Battle for Allegra,

San Sebastian Copper Mine, Raudona Akiratis

“What are we looking at, Greer?” Francis Reedsburg asks one of his workmen who is currently chipping away at an odd protrusion in the stone face.

Joseph Greer looks up and shrugs, “Looks like some sort of… tower. I don’t know, boss, it’s weird.”

Chuckling, Reedsburg shakes his head, “It doesn’t look like much of a tower, old man.”

The elderly man shrugs once more and he resumes his chipping away at the surface.

Turning away from Greer, Reedsburg looks at the rest of his mining crew and he shrugs for them. They had been pulling strange things out of this mine for some time now, so it was surprising that anyone paid any attention to new finds. A few of them had taken up what they called archeology in their spare time and they collected the odds and ends that they found around the mine and in the mine dumps, but Reedsburg did everything in his power to discourage that now. For some reason everyone who started collecting the items began coming up with theories, each theory sounding crazier than the last.

But that wasn’t the issue. Theories didn’t hurt anyone.

What hurt was the fact that many of the so-called archeologists began quitting in droves, citing their theories as their reasons for leaving.

“Boss,” one of the workmen who is still standing at the crater left by the latest blasting calls out worriedly.

“Get back to work, everyone,” Reedsburg shouts out to those who are still milling about aimlessly, “This copper isn’t going to mine itself! We got quotas; I don’t want to remind you what the Coalition does when we miss quotas!”

“Boss!” the workman calls out once more.

Returning to the edge of the blast, Reedsburg snaps at the workman, “What is it?”

“It’s—it’s glowing!” the man stammers as he points into the hole.

“What do you mean it’s glowing?” Reedsburg asks, feeling like he had heard every excuse in the book from people who didn’t want to do the job that they had agreed to take.

Staring into the hole, Reedsburg stops and he realizes that his jaw had dropped slightly. Snapping his mouth closed once more, he scows at the man who had summoned him and demands, “So what? It’s probably just… it’s probably just got some trace levels of radiation or something. We’ll deal with it. Now get back to work, Willies.”

“Yes, sir,” the man nods before he bows out and starts back toward his dump truck.

Now alone at the edge, Reedsburg takes the time to take a good look at the obstruction. As far as he could tell, the object did look rather strange, which unfortunately gave credit to all of the lousy amateur archaeologists who kept abandoning everyone and forcing everyone to work longer hours.

What’s worse, the object’s deep, almost black color perfectly matched that of the various chunks and fragments that had been dug up repeatedly since the San Sebastian mine had been established. Those pieces just grew more and more common the deeper the mine got.

And now this, Reedsburg thinks with a huff. It was days like this that made him want to join all the others who were quitting as they strung together theories.

Shaking his head, Reedsburg allows his mind to wander toward some of the theories that the others had been creating. Some of their theories did seem to hold weight, but others seemed a little out there. The best theories always came from those who did the most research and the most work, some of the people had gone as far as to build labs in their homes to identify the compounds that the strange greenish obsidian-like fragments were made of and where they had come from.

Other theories relied on rumors and legends that were told by alien races and by people who had voyaged far beyond the furthest outreaches of human civilization. In Reedsburg’s eyes, these were not the most dependable of sources, but the similarities between those stories made him nervous. It wasn’t often that so many people who were supposed to be crazy all came up with the same sort of story.

And the most alarming part of those stories was the name they all threw around.

War Makers.

Of course, there were many iterations to the name, but the most prevalent was the War Makers. Most of the archaeologists took to calling the shards they found artifacts of the War Makers. It made for good stories, but it didn’t help the mine at meeting the Coalition’s strict quotas.

And now this, Reedsburg thinks as he looks one more time at the obelisk that Greer is still cleaning off. The thing’s sharp squared off edges and the random polygonal and triangular planes and outcroppings just made it look all the more otherworldly.

“That’s what worries me,” Reedsburg whispers to himself as he reaches into his pocket and rubs his thumb along one of the alien fragments that he had chosen to keep for himself. Pulling it out, he studies it closely and he also studies his foggy reflection, if he could even call it that. Frowning, he recalls all the findings of his archeologists.

They all said the pieces were alien. They all said that they were sure there was more down here and that they didn’t want to be around when it was unearthed.

“There’s—there’s another one I think,” Greer sounds from down in the hole.

Shaking his head, Reedsburg lets out a long sigh before he looks down at the oaf of a man and asks, “What are you talking about now?”

“Huh?” Greer asks as he looks up from the glowing outcropping. A couple of beats pass before he says, “Oh, yeah, um, well there’s another one of these things over there.” Greer points off deeper into the hole.

Sure enough, Reedsburg can see another spot glowing further into the hole. The glow is coming up out of the freshly made gravel left behind from the blast. As he looks at it, Greer can’t help but notice yet another glowing patch further on still. Frowning, he notes that each glowing area appears to be evenly spaced, something that was anything but natural.

Swallowing, Reedsburg realizes that he was on the edge of something that was going to be either one of the greatest discoveries of the century, or it was going to be Pandora’s Box and it would unleash something terrible.

The theories had to be true. Or, at least a few of them had to be. There was too much happening that had been predicted for the theories to all be false.

“Step back, Greer,” Reedsburg warns the old coot.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Greer mumbles as he continues fiddling with the pillar.

Is it just me, or is that thing rising out of the ground? Reedsburg wonders as he eyes the glowing chunk of alien stone. The eerie green glow that it is giving off makes Reedsburg’s stomach ache and he momentarily wonders if the ache could be because of radiation.

He has to cut the thought short when the two pillars deeper in the hole break through the gravel ever so slowly. Sure enough, they were in fact rising.

“Get out of there, Greer!” Reedsburg shouts at the man. He is about to dive over the barricade that is set up around the lip of the crater, but he stops himself.

The pillars weren’t rising, the ground in the crater was falling.

And it was falling fast.

“No, this is my discovery,” Greer snaps as he reaches for the pillar one last time.

As if his luck had finally run out, Greer’s final touch seems to set off a chain of events that Reedsburg is immediately certain he would never be able to rehash properly when asked about them.

A bright flash illuminates the entire area of the massive kilometers-wide strip mine for a fraction of a fraction of a second. The light is a blinding white, but as it fades away, it becomes an iridescent green, much like the green stars in the neighboring systems.

Laying on the ground at least a dozen meters from the pillar is Greer’s body, which is smoking. The only identifying thing about the charred corpse is its uniform.

“Run!” Reedsburg shouts out loudly as he can as he spins on his heels.

Running away from the crater, Reedsburg realizes that he hadn’t heard his own shout and he begins repeating himself louder and louder. Every time, his ears fail to register the calls.

Flailing his hands like a madman, Reedsburg motions for everyone to run and, much to his relief, several of the miners do.

But most of the workforce bumble about aimlessly in a daze.

Racing toward one of thee nearest groups, Reedsburg shouts for them to move and, when they don’t, he begins shoving them toward the beaten gravel road that snaked its way around the massive mine all the way back to the surface world. While this escape wasn’t ideal, it was the only way out of the mine.

All Reedsburg knew at this moment was that he had to get out of here and he had to get as many other people as he could out as well.

The theories were right.

The War Makers were real, and they were waking up.

The next thing Reedsburg knew, he is running behind a surge of humanity. All his miners are racing toward the sole exit to the pit. It is at that moment that he realizes that there is a whole group of miners who are missing—the slaves. All the alien workers who the Coalition sent here to work until they died. Some of these aliens, Reedsburg was told, were royalty. Some were great leaders, inventors, artists, and so many other things back where they all came from. But, always keen to reduce every living being to the lowest point they could, the Coalition sent all these beings here to work as slaves.

Without another thought, Reedsburg skids to a stop, falling to the ground in the process. Spinning onto his front, he briefly remembers his time as a sprinter in the school he went to growing up. Summoning all the adrenaline he had, Reedsburg uses the loose gravel as a starting block as he sprints for all he is worth toward the caged off mineshafts where the slaves are held.

Running toward the caged shafts, Reedsburg can see all the alien beings clawing at the chain links that are holding them. They are yanking at the locked gates. He can see the fear in their eyes, their faces, and their actions all the way from over here.

They all knew that they would die here without a way out.

Reedsburg blinks and he finds himself at the first gate where he fumbles at the lock dumbly. He isn’t sure how he got here so quickly, but he chalks that up to a probable concussion, he had had one before, so he knew what it was like to black out for minutes at a time.

Still fumbling with the lock, Reedsburg realizes that he didn’t know the combination. He was the only one on the shift that was supposed to know it, but for some reason he couldn’t summon the memory. In all honesty, he couldn’t summon a lot of his memories right now.

As he fumbles with the lock, Reedsburg’s eyes rise to the aliens beyond the gate. They had retreated a few steps to allow him room to work, but the others are still tearing at the fence further away. It is in that moment that he realizes that everything he had been told about these aliens had to be a lie. They really were as human as he was.

Realizing that, he recalls all the things he had been told about the aliens from his miners who took the time to work with them. According to those men and women, these aliens all came from different planets the Coalition decided to war with and then enslave. These aliens came from both proud and humble races alike. Some were called Toaz, Dregg, and there were many others that Reedsburg couldn’t think of at the moment.

A few more precious seconds tick by when a thought hits Reedsburg. Reaching to his hip, he looses his pistol from his holster. The weapon had been given to him to keep the slaves in check, now he would use it to free them.

The slaves all see him pull out the gun and he can see an increased level of fear in their eyes. Part of Reedsburg feels dread at the thought of them fearing him more than whatever was going on in the crater, but he shoves those emotions down. He knew that he had never been cruel to them, it was the others who had been. He had always avoided the slaves because he despised the idea. But, he knew that in the aliens’ eyes, he was just another one of the oppressors.

Lining up his pistol to the padlock, Reedsburg lets off two rounds which pops the thing loose. The slaves do the rest of the job, and they swing the door wide.

When the first alien races out, Reedsburg can’t help but fear that they might turn on him, but they don’t. Instead, they race toward the escape route that everyone else is running up. Dozens of the now free slaves rush by and, before he had the chance to turn, one of the aliens stops in front of him.

The alien tries saying something, but Reedsburg motions that he can no longer hear. At that, the alien starts waving around and Reedsburg realizes that they are trying to convince him to save the others.

Nodding, Reedsburg does his best to assure the alien that that is exactly what he was intent on doing.

Turning, Reedsburg races over to the next caged off shaft and he gives it the same treatment as the first, but this time his newfound companion joins him.

This same thing happens three more times before it stops working.

And that’s when Reedsburg realizes that he had run out of ammo. What was worse was that he hadn’t packed any extra ammo today, he had never needed it.

Looking at the alien beside him, Reedsburg tries to communicate the predicament, but this seems to be a fruitless effort. Instead of pressing the issue, Reedsburg drops his weapon and he grabs a nearby chunk of metal which he uses to try and force the locked gate open.

If he was going to die, he would do so trying to save others.

Reedsburg knew that was the meaning of being a man—it was to put one’s life on the line for another. He had sworn an oath to himself and his God that he would do so, should the need arise.

Behind him, the black and green towers continue rumbling and the gravel that had buried them for so long continues receding. The glowing green continues lighting up the mine, more than making up for the lights which had been knocked out at some point.

This was his day. This was his hour.

There was no higher calling.

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Caleb Fast

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SPRING FOREVER

Romance, Short Story, Uplifting, Literary

Thin, wrinkled fingers turned the faded pages of her well-loved book with a strength that hadn’t failed for over sixty years. Frowning slightly, Rose glared toward the whirring machines in the room that would not stop their infernal beeping. At least the steady rhythm assured her worrywart niece that everything but her blasted leg was in top shape.

Sighing, Rose tried again to focus on the story set in her beloved Paris. Pushing a stray lock of silver hair behind her ear, she squinted. Her strength may not have deserted her all this time, but her eyesight was a different matter altogether. Adjusting her reading glasses with a sharp tweak, the blurred words cleared just in time to be obscured by a large orange rose that suddenly covered half the page.

Jerking her head up, Rose wondered who would be here at this hour. Her niece had gone to get dinner only twenty minutes ago. Her green eyes collided with a pair so dark and full of passion that a long-forgotten feeling, like a tornado of butterflies trying to escape her stomach, rose.

The angular face of her memories had softened with age, now framed by wavy grey hair. His long fingers clenched the fragrant bouquet of orange roses in his hands.

“Mon amour,” he breathed, more than said, the words.

“John,” Rose sighed and reached for the roses with hands sun-kissed by a Paris spring, no longer blue-veined and pale with a protruding IV line.

The accelerated beeping of the heart rate monitor melted away along with the whitewashed walls and disinfectant smells. They were replaced by the aroma of street vendors mixed with roses. Sunlight broke through the trees to glint on the river Seine.

Memories continued to swirl around the long-lost couple: glances stolen across pieces of art in the Louvre; passionate kisses in the shade of Notre Dame; mouthwatering picnics under an endless spring sky; early morning tea and coffee at their favorite cafes.

The thud of her book falling off the bed pulled them back to the present. John blinked unfocused eyes before time again stilled as he slowly lowered to one knee, pulling Rose’s hand to his lips.

“Mon amour,” he said again. “I finally found you.”

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Erudessa Gentian

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"Go Forth and Write." Isaiah 30:8