Telepsis - Chapter 1, Part II WC: 7,756

Anna was sitting at her computer staring at the screen when Corrine came in.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asked as she walked in and over to her closet.
“Not sure yet,” answered Anna, “Probably going to the Theta party. Why?”
“I think I’d like to come,” stated Corrine.
Anna was a little bit shocked by this.
“But you don’t go to parties!” she said incredulously.
“I decided to give it another shot,” replied Corrine calmly. “I think maybe I was thinking about it wrong before. Could you help me pick out clothes?”
********
The party was already in full swing by the time Corrine and Anna showed up. It was all the things Corrine disliked about parties – loud, smelly, and crowded. About five minutes after she walked in the door, she was already having serious misgivings about what she was doing here.
The kitchen was just inside the door of the house. There were two open coolers next to the fridge. Anna immediately made for these.
“Wait,” cried Corrine. It was quite loud though, so Anna was already too far to reach her. She followed Anna and looked into the cooler. She realized she had absolutely no idea what any of these drinks were. She assumed most of them were types of beer, but she wasn’t sure. As she was staring at the beers, she heard a voice from behind her.
“Hey, you showed up!” intoned Aaron, boisterously, as he clapped Corrine on the back. Corrine turned around from her contemplation of the beers and looked at him.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he said, “Have a drink!”
Corrine looked down. She didn’t want to let on that she knew nothing about beer, but she also didn’t want to send the wrong message. She had this idea that taking the “wrong” beer would let everyone know she’s never drunk before. She glanced up at what Aaron was holding, and grabbed one of those.
“So, great party, eh?” said Aaron.
“Yeah,” lied Corrine, “Really great,” In fact, she had no idea what made a party good or bad – they all looked pretty much the same to her.
“What did you think of the discussion this morning?” asked Aaron casually.
“It was pretty good,” said Corrine. She was staring down at her feet again.
“Don’t you love how the book is called Don Quixote, but Sancho is actually the main character?” he went on, “I found that fascinating,”
“Yeah,” said Corrine, still contemplating her own footwear.
“You want me to help you open that?” asked the boy.
Corrine looked around, slightly confused.
“Your beer,” specified Aaron, “it’s not opened,”
“I got it,” said Corrine. She pulled the tab and popped open the can. It smelled terrible. She instinctively held it away from her.
“What’s the problem?” asked Aaron.
“Nothing,” said Corrine, quickly. She looked around the room for someone else to talk to, but there was no one she knew. That’s good, she thought. No where to run. Forces me to have a real conversation with this guy.
“You seem distracted,” said Aaron.
“I’m just… a little out of my element,” admitted Corrine.
“Ah,” said Aaron, “Well, drink up. It’ll relax you; make you a little less nervous,”
Corrine put the can up to her lips, and then promptly moved it down again. The smell was awful, but that wasn’t why she was hesitant. Something just felt wrong.
“Something wrong?” asked Aaron again.
“No, I’m really ok,” said Corrine. She tried to take a sip of the beer again, but again just couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“You just don’t seem to be enjoying that beer much,” observed Aaron. “You want something else? I think there’s a couple wine coolers in that cooler. Or maybe a lemonade?”
“A lemonade sounds good,” answered Corrine. Maybe having something non-alcoholic to drink would make her less awkward.
“No problem,” said Aaron. He took the beer from her and handed her a bottle from the fridge. She opened this quickly and took a sip.
Something tasted very strange about it. She looked at the label. It was a hard lemonade.
“That better?” asked Aaron.
“Yeah,” Corrine said, unconvincingly, “Much better,”
She began trying to move away from Aaron. He did not; however, seem to understand this intention, as he followed her into the next room.
“I like those earrings,” he said. She turned around to face him.
The earrings she had borrowed from her roommate – they were small, glass icicles which picked up the light blue in her headband very nicely, contrasting beautifully with her bright red hair. She’d spent some time putting the whole ensemble together.
“Thanks,” she said. Then after a moment, she added, “They’re Anna’s,”
“Well, they look good on you,” commented Aaron. He reached up to touch one. Remembering Luke’s warning, Corrine drew back.
“Whoah, sorry,” said Aaron.
“I… have to go,” said Corrine. She was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable around Aaron, so she turned around and wove her way through the crowd.
Anna was at the counter in the Kitchen, laughing and talking with a couple of upperclassmen. The guys seemed relatively sober, Anna was clearly a bit tipsy. As she approached them, Corrine noticed one of the guys pouring something from a bottle into a glass. There were several other open bottles on the counter.
“I think you’re going to like this one, Anna,” he said, “It’s my own invention,”
“Oooh,” said Anna. She took the glass and sipped. Then she stared at it for a moment and took a huge swig.
“I like it,” she said. Then she noticed Corrine. “Hey girl,” she said, “Having fun?”
Corrine just shrugged. She looked at the practically untouched lemonade in her hand.
“Try some of this,” said one of the upperclassmen. He had obviously implied from her glance that she didn’t like the lemonade.
“I’m okay,” replied Corrine.
“You sure?” asked the boy, “It’s really good,”
“She’s sure,” intoned a familiar voice from behind Corrine.
“Okay, Okay,” said the boy. “You want some, Luke?”
Luke walked past Corrine and took the glass.
“What’s in it?” he asked.
“It’s a surprise,” said the drink-mixer. “Take a swig and see if you can tell,”
“If he doesn’t want it, I’ll take the rest,” decreed Anna, to the room in general. She had finished her first glass fairly quickly. Luke turned and looked at her for a moment.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said. He sniffed the glass and took a swig.
“Not bad,” he said, “I’m thinking there’s some rum in here, a little vodka… is that cider?”
“Close,” said the mixer, “Actually it’s basically a Long Island Ice Tea, but with.. a little something of my own in there,”
“Nice,” complimented Luke, “Especially if you’re trying to get drunk very quickly. Here.”
Aaron had finally caught up with Corrine, and had been about to start talking to her again when Luke handed him the glass.
“Drink up,” he said, “You’ll like it. Corrine, what are you doing here?”
As he said this, he steered her away from the crowd. Aaron looked at the drink, shrugged and took a very large gulp.
“I thought I’d try and expand my horizons,” explained Corrine matter-of-factly.
“And how’s that going?” asked Luke, with a hint of sarcasm.
Corrine shrugged.
“This isn’t you, Corrine,” Luke continued, putting his hand on her shoulder. She was a little uncomfortable, but she didn’t pull away this time. “Trust me,” he went on, “You’d be better off at home, or watching TV with my roommate. I’m sure he’d love the company,”
Corrine couldn’t think of anything to say to that. She looked down at the lemonade in her hand thoughtfully.
“Look,” said Luke, taking the bottle from her, “It’s your life, and I’m not gonna tell you what to do with it. But you have to ask yourself, is this really what you want?”
Corrine started to reply, but was interrupted by a crash. Anna had stumbled and knocked over a couple of bottles. She was now sitting on the floor laughing uncontrollably at something. Luke and Corrine went over to her. Luke helped her up.
“Up,” he said, “Come on. Let’s get you home,”
“But I was just starting to have fun…” said Anna.
“Let’s just take a walk then, shall we?” asked Luke.
“Ok,” said Anna. She looked up at Luke, “You’re pretty,” she said.
“And you’re pretty damn drunk,” answered the boy, “Bye guys,”
“Leaving already?” asked Aaron.
“I think so,” said Corrine. She looked at the lemonade one last time, and then set it down on the counter and followed Luke and Anna out the door.
It was just after midnight, and the streets were deserted. It was, for the most part, too late for anyone to be going to parties and too early for anyone to be coming back. They lived in a small freshman dorm called Glaston Hall, located in one of the most remote corners of the campus. Corrine would have gone back by passing through the academic quad and coming out on the other side. Luke, however, with Anna on his arm, turned the other direction, towards the downtown area. Corrine wasn’t sure whether to follow him or go the way she knew.
“Luke, where are we going?” she finally asked.
“Home,” he answered, “Where do you think?”
Corrine looked at him quizzically.
“We’re gonna cut through the alley behind the gas station,” said Luke calmly, “It’s a lot faster,”
Corrine hesitated for a moment, then went on.
Suddenly, a very strange sound rang out from quite nearby. It sounded sort of like a machine gun, but softer, and with each shot followed by an electric hum.
“What’s that?” asked Anna.
“No idea,” said Luke. Suddenly there was another sound, like a strong gust of wind. Corrine could hear a man speaking, but he couldn’t make out any of the words. Then there was a loud scream.
“Stay here!” cautioned Luke to Anna. Then, turning to Corrine, “Make sure she stays put,”
Luke ran off toward the sounds. “Wait!?” Corrine tried to say, but he was already gone.
“I wanna see!” cried Anna. She ran off after Luke. Corrine tried to restrain her, but she had a head start. She turned the corner and caught up with Luke.
The first thing Corrine noticed in the alley was a bright, blue light. It was coming from a human-like shape, completely covered in it except for his face. It was an older, male face with a small dark grey beard. The blinding blue light made it hard to make out anything else about him. He had a pair of bright blue, shining discs, and he was using them like shields, spinning and weaving constantly.
What he was shielding himself from were some sort of gunshots. Every time one hit a shield it exploded with a pop. At least five men, as far as Corrine could see, were shooting at him. They were all dressed in sleek, black armor, and wearing helmets that made them look like a S.W.A.T. team. It seemed like it was all he could do to block the shots with his shields. Luke and Anna were also watching this scene, shocked.
As he was spinning around, the old man caught sight of them.
“Get out of here!” he cried. Then he put both shields into the air. As they rose over his head, they stretched out, turning into an enormous whip made of shining blue light. This he swung out away from the students, hitting two of his attackers and knocking them into the wall. Then instantaneously the whip formed back into a shield, as he backed himself towards the now clear wall.
“GO!” he yelled.
Corrine tried to move, but she couldn’t bring herself to. The other two seemed the same way – they were transfixed.
Slowly though, looking over his shoulder, Luke started to back away. He out one hand on Corrine’s shoulder and took Anna’s hand in the other.
Two more soldiers ran out from each side of the wall the man was trying to back himself against. He saw them and turned around, but he was too late. Four shots hit him in the side, discharging an electric shock with each hit. He screamed, and looked like he was going to collapse. But then he stood up. Everything seemed to pause for a moment as the soldiers waited to see if he’d go down.
Suddenly he flew into a rage. He began to spin even more feverishly then before, still spinning a pair of shields, only this time out of the shields were coming little balls of blue light. The soldiers all tried to take cover or knelt on the ground, emptying as many rounds as they could into him in the hopes that one would make it past his fury of shields.
The balls of light were flying at the soldiers as if they were heat seeking or something. But when one hit one, all it seemed to do was sting slightly. The soldiers were not letting this deter them, as they stood and began to advance on him.
“Corrine!” Luke was shaking her. He and Anna had already turned to go, but she was standing there, staring. Paralyzed with fear, she couldn’t bring herself to move. Luke lunged to pick her up and carry her out of danger. Then it happened.
The man exploded in a fiery flash of light. An enormous shockwave of blue energy erupted from him, completely engulfing his advancing assailants. The wave stopped short of the students, but a single, small ball of light flew out of it. Corrine watched it unable to look away, as if in slow motion. It sped towards her, and hit her in the stomach. Then everything went black.

Telepsis - Chapter 1, part one WC: 5,454

Chapter one is turning out quite a bit long then anticipated, so I decided to post it in two parts. I highly doubt I'll finish this story this month even if I get 50,000 words, seeing as these last 5,000 words are such an insignificantly tiny part of my outline.

Chapter 1:
The Last Day of Their Lives

October 15th, 2006 started out like any other Friday. Corrine Ellison woke up around 8:15. Her roommate Anna was still asleep. This wasn’t surprising, since Anna hadn’t gotten in until about 4:15, when, drunk out of her mind, she’d stumbled in and knocked over the lamp, waking Corrine. Corrine was surprised she’d come home at all – usually when she started her weekend early she did it with some guy. She didn’t bring the guys here anymore, at least. She had Ethan to thank for that.
Ethan lived upstairs. Early on, he developed a bit of a fixation with Anna. He would hang around their room at night, waiting for her to get home from parties to “make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.” Whenever she brought a guy home, though, he’s get scared and run off, and Corrine would be left covering her ears and pretending to be asleep. She thought about confronting Anna about this, but she didn’t want to risk her being mad at her.
One night, about a week earlier, Anna tried to bring home a burly running back named Carl. They were both wasted as they barged into the dorm and headed for her room. That’s where they ran into Ethan.
“Anna,” he said. She remembered how nervous he sounded, but he was resolute. “What are you doing?”
“Who’re you?” asked Carl.
“I’m her guardian angel,” answered Ethan. It was supposed to sound threatening, but coming from Ethan’s thin, five foot six inch frame it must have sounded quite ridiculous.
“Go to bed, Ethan,” said Anna.
“Think about this, Anna,” Ethan answered, still trying very hard to sound sure of himself. “Would you sleep with this guy if you were sober?”
“Is it any a yer business?” asked Carl.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” said Ethan.
“I don’t have to take this!” yelled Carl. He swung at Ethan, but the alcohol had seriously impaired his reflexes. By this time Corrine had come outside to see what the commotion was all about, so she’d seen this all quite clearly. Ethan stepped out of the way, then grabbed Carl’s arm and swung him with a remarkable amount of force against the wall. Infuriated, Carl jumped on Ethan, who stepped out of the way, causing Carl to land in a pile on the floor. Somewhere between the head trauma and the alcohol, he passed out. And that was the last time Anna had taken a guy home. Consequently, it was the last time she’d even spoken to Ethan.
But anyway, she’d come home the previous night, albeit late, and since she’s already missed 15 minutes of her first class, and by the time she got up and made it to the lecture hall it would be half over, Corrine decided to just let her sleep. So she went to the bathroom, took a shower, got dressed, and headed to breakfast.
Not a lot of people at Keansley College ever showed up for breakfast. This was partly because they all stayed up pretty late, and partly because the food wasn’t really worth getting up for. Regardless of the reason, of the twenty or so people in the cafeteria, there were none that Corrine knew well enough to feel comfortable sitting with, so she got her bowl of cereal and sat down at a table by herself, and got to thinking.
She had been at Keansley for about two months now, and the only people she really felt like she knew were her roommate and the weird guy who had a crush on her roommate. And she only knew him because he hung around in her room all the time hoping Anna would notice him. She had met his roommate, Luke, a couple of times and decided he was a pompous jerk. Ethan spoke quite highly of him though.
That was how it was though. There were other people she knew. She had a fair number of people she talked to in class and things. She just didn’t know any of them well enough to hang out with them outside of class.
The thing was, she and Anna weren’t even really friends. She just hung out with her because she couldn’t find anyone else to hang out with. At first, Anna objected to this, because she was convinced that Corrine was prettier then she was and was going to steal all the guys from her. Once it became clear, however, that Corrine couldn’t bring herself to talk to a guy no matter what he said to her (or how drunk he was) she was happy to let her tag along with her to parties.
Parties, it had turned out, were not Corrine’s scene. She didn’t drink, nor could she bring herself to. And she felt very akward standing around watching everyone get drunk while she stayed completely sober. The akwardness only increased when the drunk guys started hitting on her. So she had stopped going to parties. Now it was a Friday morning, and she was wondering whether to spend her Friday night reading or watching Stargate with Ethan. Was this really what college was supposed to be like?
“Hey,” said a familiar accented voice from behind her, “Mind if I sit down?”
Radhika Aggarwal was standing behind her with her tray. Radhika was an international student from India. She had long, black hair with a streak of blue in it and huge, expressive eyes that caught a person completely off guard. She and Corrine had talked a few times but not very many.
“Not at all,” said Corrine. She was glad to have the company, at any rate.
“No one eats breakfast here,” Radhika commented as she sat down.
“I do,” said Corrine, matter-of-factly.
“Well, obviously,” answered Radhika.
They ate in silence for a little while. Corrine was not good at furthering conversations.
“You’re taking Anthropology with Dr. Bronson, aren’t you?” Radhika inquired after a little while.
“No, I have Professor White,” answered Corrine. “Why?”
“His class has been cancelled for three days in a row now!” explained Radhika angrily, “No one will tell me anything about what’s going on.”
“Have you tried e-mailing him?” asked Corrine.
“Yes,” answered Radhika, “He got back to me this morning,”
“Well what did he say?” asked Corrine.
Radhika pulled a small, folded piece of paper and handed it to Corrine. Corrine unfolded it. It was a print-out of an e-mail.
“Concerned students,” It read, “I apologize for the unfortunate canceling of the last three classes. Unforeseen circumstances the nature of which I can not describe to you have required my attention elsewhere, and I did not have time to secure a temporary replacement. With any luck, however, I should be back by Tuesday and classes can resume as normal. Tuesday’s test will be postponed a week, but we will have to work hard to catch up. Everyone please continue with the readings as listed on the reading schedule. Thank you for your understanding. Sincerely, Daniel Bronson,”
“He probably had a death in the family or something,” said Corrine, “Nothing to worry about,”
“I just wish he’d have found some way to tell us what was going on,” answered Radhika. “’Unforeseen circumstances’ could mean a lot of different things,”
“It sucks,” agreed Corrine. As usual, she couldn’t really think of anything else to say. “I have to get to class,” she finished.
She didn’t actually have to get to class. She just didn’t feel like continuing the conversation. Corrine did that a lot. She wasn’t sure why, but when ever she started to have a real conversation with anyone, male or female, she found herself trying to find some excuse to leave. That was, she reflected, probably why she had so few friends. She pushed people away.
Her nine o’clock class was Introductory English, and she both loved and hated it. She loved that she was forced to read fifty to a hundred pages of a novel every day, because she loved to read, and if she wasn’t being forced to she would have felt bad about it. Not that she had anything better to do. But she wished she did, and it was easier to justify a Friday or Saturday night at home with a book if she could say it was “for a class”.
She hated it because of the participation grade. Two sides of her personality conflicted on this issue. On the one hand, Corrine liked to do everything that was for a grade the best she possibly could. It gave her a sense of pride in her grades that she really couldn’t take in anything else. On the other hand, she hated any situation where she was forced to speak, especially if a large group of people were listening. Unfortunately, ten percent of the class grade was participating in class discussion. Usually her desire to be invisible won out over her need for perfect grades, and she ended up just sitting in the bcack listening and taking copious notes, like she did in every class. Sometimes, though, she was called upon to speak, and she generally made, in her mind at least, a total fool of herself.
Today, like most days, she got to class about ten minutes early. Being the first one there, she took her customary place in the back of the room and began reading Don Quixote. Of course she’d finished the reading for that day’s class. But she’d noticed that the reading for the next class skipped ahead several chapters. The professor would probably summarize what happened in that section, but Corrine didn’t like to read just part of a book, so she was reading those chapters anyway. She was about four pages in when someone plopped a backpack down next to her.
“Yo,” he said. She looked up. A tall, lanky boy with longish blonde hair had dropped the backpack, and was now pulling out a chair and trying to fold his beanpole-like body into it. It was quite comical. His name was Aaron. Corrine knew this because he had no problem talking in class – in fact; he sometimes talked even if he had nothing constructive to say. Most of the time, though, his ideas were quite interesting. He also talked with his whole body, which always reminded Corrine of an enthusiastic air traffic controller.
“It’s Corrine, isn’t it?” he asked as he sat down.
She nodded. She was amazed he actually knew what her name was.
“It’s a cool name,” he said. “Always reminds me of, like, a gemstone or something. I don’t know, that’s just what it sounds like,”
Corrine briefly wondered if he was flirting with her. She decided he was probably just talking for the sake of talking. He seemed to do that a lot.
“Why are you sitting in the back today?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered defensively. Then more casually, “Just wanted a change of scenery, I guess,”
Corrine shrugged her shoulders and went back to her reading. Aaron leaned over and peered at the book. Corrine leaned over and shifted positions. She didn’t like people reading over her shoulder.
“You know we don’t have to read that part, right?” said Aaron.
Corrine looked up. What she wanted to say was, Yes, you idiot, some of us like to read things because we want to, not because we’re being forced to. All she actually did was nod.
“Just making sure,” he said.
Because it would be such a pity if I accidentally read something I didn’t have to, thought Corrine.
Fortunately, about that time, the professor came in and started class, so she didn’t have to listen to Aaron any more then anyone else did. It was a pretty good class – Corrine was not called upon to speak.
After class, however, Aaron seemed determined to talk to her. He followed her out of the classroom.
“You’re Anna’s roommate, right?” he asked her as they were walking down the hall. She nodded again.
“She’s a fun girl,” Aaron commented, “How come you never come to any parties? She’s always there?”
You just answered your own question, Corrine thought.
“I’m … not really a party person,” she said finally.
“Too bad,” answered Aaron. “They’re a lot of fun. You should come tonight,”
“No, really,” said Corrine, “I’m fine,”
“Oh, come on,” he pushed, “Psi Kappa Theta’s having a great one tonight. It’s in that big house down the street from Hellen Hall,”
“I’m sorry,” said Corrine, “I’m really not interested,”
They had left the building now, and Corrine tried to turn the opposite direction from where she wanted to go, just to keep him from following her. Unfortunately, he turned with her.
“Where are you headed?” he asked, “Your dorm is that way,”
“Library,” she said. It was the first thing that came to mind. “Studying to do,” she added.
“Well, suit yourself then,” said Aaron, “I’m gonna get some breakfast. You should come tonight, though. It’s gonna be a lot of fun,”
“I’ll think about it,” said Corrine, in the hopes of getting him to leave her alone.
“Do that,” the boy answered. “See ya! Oh, hey Luke,”
Corrine very nearly ran into the six foot three bulky frame of Ethan’s roommate. He was build like a football player, but he hadn’t played since high school. Still, his size and muscle structure tended to command a certain amount of respect from anyone he spent any time with.
“Hey Aaron,” he called out. “Corrine. What’s goin’ on?”
“Nothing much,” said Corrine, turning and going around him. Her intention was to circle around the library then head back to her dorm when she was quite sure Aaron was gone.
“Aaron Masterson?” said Luke, quizzically, as soon as he was out of ear-shot, “Promise me you won’t fall in with that jerk,”
Corrine looked up at him confusedly. “We were just talking,” she said.
“Yeah, I’ve seen him talk to girls that way,” he said.
“What way?” asked Corrine.
“Was he trying to get you to come to a party?” asked Luke.
Corrine blushed a little.
“Yeah, he wants to sleep with you,” stated Luke.
“What?” asked Corrine.
“It’s a game Aaron and his friends play,” Luke explained, “They try to find girls who don’t normally sleep around, get them drunk, and have sex with them. Don’t go tonight, ok?”
“I wasn’t planning to,” said Corrine.
“Good,” said Luke. “And if he keeps bothering you, you find me ok?”
“Ok,” she said.
He turned off the other way. Corrine was very puzzled. First, Luke was being unusually nice to her. Second, whatever his attentions, some guy was actually paying attention to her. It was turning out to be a very unusual day.
She got to her room, opened the door and flipped on the lights. Unfortunately, her roommate was still asleep.
“Wha?” said Anna, groggily.
“Sorry,” said Corrine, hastily turning the light’s back off.
“No, it’s ok,” said Anna, sitting up. “What time is it?”
“Just after ten,” answered Corrine.
“Unggghhhh,” groaned Anna, rubbing her sinuses, “I had a class at eight, didn’t I?”
Corrine nodded.
“Shit.” Lamented Anna.
“It was half over by the time I got up,” apologized Corrine, “I figured better to just let you sleep,”
“Probably just as well,” conceded her roommate. “Well, I should probably take a… a…”
“Shower?” suggested Corrine.
“Yeah, one of those,” Anna mumbled. She left the room. Corrine sat down to work on a paper for his Anthropology class. A few minutes later, Anna came back. Her hair was a complete disaster, the result of last night’s carefully prepared style collapsing in a fitful sleep. Her make-up, likewise, was smeared all over her face.
“Forgot my, er, uh….” She began, as she went through her stuff.
“Towel?” Corrine volunteered.
“That thing, right,” said Anna, grabbing hers. She stood there for a moment, a look of complete bewilderment on her face.
“What else do I usually take to the shower?” she asked, after a little while.
“Ummm… soap?” said Corrine. “Shampoo, conditioner, usually a robe, your keys so you don’t get locked out if I’m gone when you get out,”
“Is that all?” asked Anna.
“I think so,” answered Corrine.
“Ok,” said Anna. She then proceeded to collapse back onto her bed.
“Uh, Anna?” asked Corrine. There was no answer.
She walked over to her roommates bed and shook her.
“Anna?” she said timidly, “I know it’s not really my business, but you really shouldn’t miss another class today,”
“Yer right,” mumbled the sleepy girl into her pillow, “Ten minutes, k?”
Corrine shrugged hopelessly. She didn’t know why she felt she was responsible for making sure Anna didn’t flunk out. Some days she felt as if without her prodding, the girl wouldn’t go to class at all. She was sure she was failing most of classes by now anyway.
She sat down to write. Five minutes or so later, Anna managed to drag herself out of bed and again left for the shower. Corrine sighed, then got up, gathered her roommate’s shower things, and brought them out to her.
“Thanks Corrie,” mumbled Anna, “You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”
Corrine just shrugged and headed back to the room to try and get her work done. She hated being called Corrie. Anna had started it, and since she’d been to shy to object, the rest of the girls on the floor had picked it up to. Fortunately, she had very little contact with the other girls on her floor.
Corrine sat down and began to write. She had a very peculiar process for writing. For days before hand, she would gather information, outline, and figure out exactly what she wanted the paper to look like. Then she would find a large block of time, usually three to four hours, and just sit down and write. She would not stop to eat or sleep. She would only stop to go to class, if her writing took her long enough that this was necessary. This was only a three page paper though. She knocked it off in about an hour and a half. Then she decided to go to lunch.
Lunch was much like breakfast for Corrine – a time for eating mediocre food and enjoying generally awkward conversation. She didn’t relish it. There were four lines at Riley Dining hall. One contained normal food, one always contained Pizza, and one offered “International” cuisine, which generally consisted of either bad Chinese food or something Eastern European with an unpronounceable name. The fourth line was a vegetarian option. Today the regular line was very long, and International was serving Borsch, so Corrine decided to go for vegetarian. There was some sort of cheese ravioli that seemed vaguely palatable, so she piled some of that on her plate, and went to try and find a place to sit.
To Corrine, finding people to eat lunch with was generally a lot like choosing what to eat – there tended to be very few options, and she seldom liked any of them. She spotted Radhika sitting with the other Indian students. She’d definitely feel like an outsider there. She moved further away from the line, and saw Aaron talking to some of his friends, including a rapt audience of freshman girls. She quickly turned the other way, and nearly bumped into Ethan.
“Hey Corrine,” he said, “Where are you sitting?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she answered meekly.
“Is Anna here?” Ethan asked hopefully.
“I don’t think so,” replied Corrine.
“Well, I’m sitting over there with a couple of guys from my D & D group,” offered Ethan, “You can come sit with us if you’d like,”
Corrine didn’t think she’d fit in with Ethan’s D & D group, whatever that meant, any more than she would with Radhika and her Indian friends, but she didn’t have anywhere else to go, so she followed him and sat down.
There were two guys already at the table, and one girl. One of the guys was short and slightly overweight, with curly red hair. He was tearing away at a hamburger, and had two more on his plate. So that’s what the long line was for, Corrine thought. The other was a tall, wiry boy with very large ears. He had also opted for the vegetarian ravioli, and was eyeing it suspiciously. The girl Corrine had seen before – she was in her Religious perspectives class. She wasn’t a hard girl to recognize – the short-cropped, bright green hair and the two lip-rngs tended to give her away. She had gotten nothing but a plate full of fries, which she was slowly munching away at, and eight muffins, which she was busily wrapping up in napkins and sticking in her large bag.
“Hey guys,” said Ethan, as he pulled out a chair and sat down, “This is Corrine. Corrine, this is Johnny,” (he indicated the red haired boy) “Zeke, and Tara,”
Johnny and Zeke waved to her awkwardly. Tara didn’t look up. Corrine sat down.
“So,” said Ethan, “Saturday. I have it all planned out now. We’re ready to go,”
“I have to work until three on Saturday,” Zeke informed them.
“Ok, then, we’ll start at three,” answered Ethan.
“But I have a meeting at seven,” said Tara without looking up, “And so does Luke,”
“That still gives us four hours,” pointed out Johnny, “Hey, where is Luke anyway?”
“With his friends,” answered Zeke. He said this last word as if he was saying ‘maggots’ or ‘cockroaches’.
“I’ll pass this all along to him,” said Ethan “I don’t think four hours is long even to get through what I have planned. I was gonna have you guys actually reach the fortress of darkness finally, and I want you to have time to really explain it,”
Corrine was very confused now. Up until Ethan had mentioned the fortress of darkness, she figured they were just discussing some kind of meeting. Now she had no idea.
“We could just run it with three if it goes over,” suggested Johnny.
“You can’t get through the forest of darkness without a Cleric or a Rogue!” Protested Ethan, “Then you have no one to disable traps, or heal anyone.”
“Then NPC us for an hour,” said Tara.
Corrine had no idea what was going on, so she got up to leave.
“Leaving?” asked Ethan, slightly awkwardly.
“I have things to do,” said Corrine. She actually had absolutely nothing to do for the next hour, but saying that would not justify her leaving. She went off to contemplate her existence.
Corrine didn’t know very much about Dungeons and Dragons, but she knew the people who played it were generally not the ones at the top of the social latter. In fact she was pretty sure they were pretty near the bottom. And yet, they had friends. They had a community. She envied them that. She had no community to speak of. She had maybe four people who even knew her name (Five, she supposed, if she counted Aaron.) She needed to do something. Find some sort of direction.
Why didn’t she know anyone? It’s not that no one was interested in getting to know her. But she pushed them away. She couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone for more than a couple of minutes, so the only ones who even sort of knew her were the ones who were forced to spend a fair amount of time around her – Anna and Ethan.
She decided she was going to meet people. She was going to get friends, and she was going to start tonight. She turned around and headed back to her dorm room.

Telepsis - WC: 1,500

The human is named Corrine. Names are a purely human invention – a function of their reliance on language to convey ideas. What’s always amused it is that humans don’t just use this “language” to communicate thoughts and ideas to other humans – they actually think in it, severely limiting what they’re capable of thinking about. For instance, while all this had been rolling around its mind, the human, in her attempt to translate her thoughts into language, had only managed this:

“Huh?”

It didn’t know what that meant. If she ever got around to asking it something, it suspected it would try to answer.

“Who are you? And how are you talking so fast?”

“The first question I can’t answer yet”, it thinks. It has to work hard to translate its thought into something Corrine – yes, it will start using the name now – will understand.
“The name humans call me is Aeolus.”
It just remembered that. It wonders how it came up with that name. It must have some significance. It decides to ask Corrine.
“Does that mean anything to you?”

“What? You – who are you? What are you doing in my head? “

The poor thing. So confused. It occurs to Aeolus that he’s never inhabited a female human before. He wondered if she was taking this differently then a male would have. He wished he could remember. He wished he could remember a lot of things. Why couldn’t he?

“I… I can’t understand what you are saying!”

Silly girl, it thinks. She could understand fine if she stopped trying to translate everything I thought into language. It decides to tell her as much.

“I’m not saying anything. I’m thinking. Stop treating this like it’s a conversation,”

“What is it? Who are you? Why are you in my head?”

“You’ve already asked two of those questions,”

“You never answered them!”

“Whoa, Whoa, Corrine?”

“I was getting around to it. I know this is a lot for you to process but – “

“What was that?”

“What?”

“Anna?”

Another voice, deeper and male.

“What happened?”
“She moved! I swear she did. Look, look, she’s stirring!”

Her eyes open. Aeolus is amazed at the clarity with which she sees. He remembers vision, but he remembers it blurred, and fuzzy. Now he can make things out quite nicely as she turns her head. A ceiling. A rectangular light fixture. Now a face – older, sort of rugged looking, wearing a strange, light blue outfit. That outfit has some significance. What is it?

“A doctor? Why am I in a hospital? What’s going on?”

More faces peer in. One is female, with long wavy hair tied loosely into a bun. This must be Anna. The other has long hair hanging down in front of it, and a small beard on its chin. Is this Ethan? The one in blue pushes them away. She tries to sit up, but falls back down again. It wants a mirror. I wants to see what it’s new body looks like. He could go into her mind and pull an image, but she’s under enough stress already. Best to stay on the surface of her consciousness for now.

“Surface of my consciousness? What is that supposed to mean? Who are you?”

“It’s me, Anna. Your roommate,”

“That’s not coming from inside my head. Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes, you did. And this is gonna get mighty confusing if you keep trying to talk to me as if you had to use language,”

“Corrine?”

“How else should I talk to you?”

“Pure thought. Ideas themselves. Words are a human construction, useless here,”

“Are you ok?”

“Where is here? Who are you?”

“Please stop asking that. Your friends are concerned about you. Best wake up and let them know you’re alright,”

She sits up. It looks through her eyes, at a hospital room filled with flowers and balloons. The Doctor, Ethan, and Anna are standing a little ways back now. She rubs her eyes and he sees her hands – small, pale, white. Tubes are stuck in one of her wrists. The doctor cautions her about this.

“What’s going on?” she asks, this time out loud. Aeolus decides to be as silent as it can for now.

“You’ve been in a coma for about two weeks,” explains the doctor, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Aeolus sees Corrine peruse her memory, pulling out the first thing she finds. A familiar figure – familiar to Aeolus, anyway. Could it be – yes it is. Danny! He’s fighting, blasting telepsis circles at everything. Then, suddenly, he explodes in a flash of blinding blue light.

“A bright flash of light,” Corrine finally relates, “And then I felt dizzy. And then I was here,”

“You passed out,” says Anna, “And you wouldn’t wake up. At first we thought it was alchohol poisoning, but you don’t drink, so we figured maybe you just fainted from the shock, and Luke carried you to the Wellness center, and –“

“Slow down,” says Corrine, “That’s a lot to process, and I’m still a little… I need some time,”

She lays back down. Slowly, gently, Aeolus peruses her memory. It needs answers as much as she does, and this is where he thinks he can find them.

Telepsis - WC: 626

“Ah, look at all the lonely people.
Ah, look at all the lonely people.”

Lonely. So Lonely. Long ago it remembered the voices, chattering together in a sort of harmonious cacophony. It had been such a long time though. It could remember nothing they said, or thought, since they had no voices really, at least no language. There was no need for it. Language was just a way humans transmitted thoughts to one another. Useless when you can do it directly.

“Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,”

The words float to him, and he pulls what little sense and meaning he can find in them out. Rice. Church. Wedding. All of these words it knows have meaning, but it can’t think of them. Eleanor – that one sounds especially familiar. It knew – had known until recently – a human who used that name. It seemed to recall it had been quite fond of her.

“Lives in a dream,”

A dream. That’s what it felt like. That’s how much of it it could remember. 10,000 years of existence, of memory, reduced to bits, pieces, scraps impossible to put together. The gaps too large to fill in. And the parts it remembers seem so random. Where is it? What is it doing here? And where is the music coming from?

“Waits at the window, wearing a face she keeps in a jar by the door,
Who is it for?”

It knows what that’s like. It remembers wearing a lot of faces. Danny was what the last one called itself – a tall, gaunt face, with a pair of dark glasses. But there were others. So many others. It could remember all the faces, but only Danny’s had a name with it. And precious little else. Soon it would see it’s new face. It wondered what it would be like.

“All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?”

Where did it come from? Where did it belong? The first question it thought it had once known the answer to. The second it somehow suspected had always been out of reach. Belonging was something it could not remember, except perhaps back before. Before what? It wasn’t sure. That time before was even more vague and shadowy then the rest of the dream.

“Ah, look at all the lonely people.
Ah, look at all the lonely people.”

Lonely people. It had known so many. There faces floated back to him again, but still nothing more then that. Faces. At one point they must have been real people. But now, in his mind, they are reduced to this. Mere shadows, nothing more. Would this one be the same?

The music has stopped. Another voice, this one female, speaks. The singer was male. It isn’t sure how it knows this, or even what that means.

“Isn’t that song a little depressing, considering the circumstances?”

“It’s one of her favorites,”

“She probably can’t even hear you,”

“The doctor said people in comas are often completely conscious of what’s going on around them,”

“She’s been out for two weeks, Ethan,”

Two weeks? Of course, a mere fraction of a second to it, but it still seems to it to be far too long.

“People have woken up after longer,”

“I think it’s silly,”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I… just came to sit with her for a while. Keep her company,”

“Ok, Anna. I should get some sleep. Goodnight Anna…. Goodnight Corrine,”

And she awakens. It’s not sure how it knows this, it just does. Suddenly it becomes aware of another voice. Asking questions. Her mind opens up to it, and it begins to probe it for information.

NaNoWriMo 2006

The banner below is for my NaNoWriMo novel, tentatively titled Telepsis. It's about a girl who gets an ancient and powerful psychic energy being blended with her, and becomes a symbiotic creature. It's a lot more complicated then that, but the rest you get later. Whether I succeed or not, I'll post what I have in long segments in December.

I needed to get this onto the internet

I'll explain what it is soon.

Update

I'm having trouble coming back to either COM or the Dragon story. It just feels like they belong to a completely different time. High school is like a whole other life, and it feels strange to go back to the things I was writing there.
Being here has also made me think about my style and my process, and I think it needs to be reworked in general. Hopefully I'll beng taking a fictional writing course next semester and then I can come back to these stories with a fresh eye. Until then... well I don't know. Starting a new story I feel would infuriate people, and it annoys me, seeing as I've still never finished one (a long one, that is.) So for now I think I'm gonna stick to trying to write short, artsy stories without much plot and poetry. I'm also thinking about using this site for some writing excercises I've been playing with in my head.

If I think of anything to write, I may post something today.

Origin story

So I was writing a paper on Dante and I came up with an idea for a story. Like most of my ideas, it's probably been done before by someone famous who I've never heard of, but to me it's original. I'm not saying I believe any of this is true, just that it would be an interesting take on history and especially the events of the Bible, and a really good setting for an epic adventure story. Basically, the idea is that a supreme being creates the universe, and sets evolution and everything in motion, but doesn't anticipate humans evolving into self-aware beings. So humanity starts completely screwing with the divine plan, and the supreme being has to improvise. So the supreme being creates lesser beings to rule over individual groups of humans - The Greek, Norse, Hindu, and other Pantheons. Unfortunately, these lesser beings start telling the humans that they really created the universe, and leaving out any mention of the supreme being. This wasn't in the deal, and the supreme being tries to eliminate these false gods. Unfortunately, he does this too late - humans are already believing in and worshiping all kinds of things. And so the other gods are stronger now, because belief strengthens them, and mount a battle against the supreme being for control of the earth. The commodity they fight over is belief- Any god can shape physical things, but the ability to shape humans is elusive, and they can't figure out how to.
This, I think, is where I set the story - with a group of humans being commisioned by the supreme being to be his instruments in fighting the false Gods he himself created. Here it diverges from mirroring history and delves into a fantastic world populated by creatures from every mythology imaginable.
The scope here is enormous, so it will staying on the drawing board for a while, but I think I could do some really good things with this basic concept.
I know, I know, finish the two stories you've started already. I will, I will. I'm just putting this here so I won't forget it, and so you guys can give me feedback on the concept.

A Pseudo-Romantic Vignette

Romance is a sordid affair - it's a combination of conditional hormonal responses, complex emotions, and god knows what else. Sex has a lot to do with it, especially for college students. Anyway, it's too complicated to understand, so we don't really try. If we're smart, that is.
I've never been all that smart, which is why I'm thinking about this at all, especially here and now.
She's sitting next to me, leaning against my chest, almost more out lack of space than anything else. Twelve people, four chairs, and a couch that seats maybe four? You do the math. People are sprawled all over the floor, the chairs, and each other. Anyhow, we're kind of friends, so it shouldn't be weird.
Well, for most guys it wouldn't. But as I said earlier, I've never been all that smart when it comes to this sort of thing. I try to figure out how things work. and I end up getting hurt. I overthink and ruin things that would work out fine if I let them be. So a few days ago, I decided just to stop planning, stop strategizing, and just let things happen.
And now stuff is happening. I'm enjoying the physical contact. I think she is too, but it's hard to say. It feels like she has me at a disadvantage. That's probably not true, but I tend to assume the worst. You would too, if you'd been through what I have. After a while you tend to stop getting your hopes up.
I look down and realize my arm is around her. How did it get there? I think I'd remember doing something like that. But she doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she turns her head slightly and smiles at me. A week ago I'd have been trying to analyze that smile. But not now. You learn not to read people. If you never guess, you're never wrong. You just enjoy it while it lasts - it is what it is.
Most guys actually get this concept. I mean, you see it all the time - guys and girls who aren't in a relationship holding each other, lying together, and generally being close. I've always wondered how they did it. And to think, it was this simple.
She leans her head back on my shoulder. Her hair smells nice. I've never been this close to her before, but it smells oddly familiar. I wonder if she uses the same shampoo as a girl I've dated. Probably not. The scent of female hair always seems to have this effect on me. It's probably pheromones or something.
Her head is maybe an inch away from mine. If she were my girlfriend I'd kiss her right now. But she's not, and that would definitely be going too far. I actually have no reason to believe she wants anything romantic from me. Because she's not me. She doesn't plan ahead. She's probably just living in the moment, enjoying this while it lasts - you know, what I should be doing instead of all this thinking.
But alas, I am a creature of habit, and despite my best efforts, my mind is already reverting to its old ways.
What is she thinking? Does she like me? Does she like someone else? Who is it? Why do I immediately assume there is a "he"? Why wouldn't there be? Is it even possible there's a she?
No, that's silly. It's all silly. I manage to get that part of my brain shut off again. Live in the moment, I tell myself, Don't make plans. Plans just get screwed up and screw you over.
The thing is, I'm not even sure I like her that way. To be perfectly honest, I've never thought about her like that before. Do I really even want to be with her? Or do I just want to be with someone, and she seems convenient?
She laughs, shaking me out of my trance. Something amusing has happened in the movie I haven't exactly been watching. She lifts her head off of my shoulder and turns to look at me again.
she smiles.
I smile.
The person sitting at the other end of the couch gets up, and she slides down a bit to make use of the extra space. Her head is now resting on my rib cage. I reach up absent-mindedly and run my fingers through her hair. She leans back further into my chest. It's still pleasant, but now slightly painful. But I don't want her to go.
The film, ostensibly our reason for being here, has now reached a rather suspensful point. I feel her hand clench my leg. This seems to me beyond the realm of friendly flirting, but I force myself not to overthink. It is what it is. Let it be.
My fingers have moved, seemingly of their own accord, down her neck to her shoulder. I'm not really sure what I'm doing. My hand closes around her shoulder and I can feel her bra strap through her shirt. She yawns, and her body shakes. I move my hand as she lies back.
And now the movie is over. We lie there through the credits, all of us, talking and laughing. Her laugh is beautiful, and I can feel her head vibrating against my chest.
After a while, she gets up. She should go to bed, she says. I should too. I look around. The other loungers are slowly rousing themselves. I notice two friends more intertwined then we were. They show no signs of wanting to get up.
I realize if I wanted something to happen between us, now would be the time. But really, I don't. It was nice, now it's over. It may be too late, but I'm finally coming to terms with that.
I walk home alone, smiling to myself. I don't know what will happen with her. Probably nothing. But I'm content. I've finally found the crucial fact I've been looking for: learning to be single doesn't mean learning to be alone.

Why am I such an idiot!?!?

Why do I keep doing this to myself? I see the pattern - meet girl, fall for girl, watch girl get swept up by some other guy, get over girl, repeat FOUR FRICKIN' TIMES! And yet I continue to fall for them. And next week, Shane will manage to steal Claire from me, I'll cry, I'll get over her, and I'll start over with someone else around Thursday. Well, I'm sick of it. This time I'm not stepping aside. If he wants her, he's going to have to win her over before I do. Don't envy the other guy. Be the other guy. Because she asked me out. She's interested. So she's not just leading me on - I do have a shot of coming out on top this time. I just have to not give in.
And if I lose, that's it. No more falling for anyone at all until at least next semester. (Like that's gonna happen.)

The Alphabet is out to get me!

Today the answer to all my problems occured to me: the letters of the alphabet are sentient beings locked in constant battle with one another. I am nothing more than a casualty in a great battle between A and G.
Crazy? It may sound that way, but think about the facts. I am Nathan Andrew Comstock. Now think about that name. It contains 3 a's and no G's. This year, I was asigned to live in the Annex with Adam. So while G has no bias towards me, A has a strong interest in me.
I've had two girlfriends: Ashley and Amy. Adding in their middle and last names, you find two As in Ashley's name and three in Amy's. And my relationship with Amy lasted longer than my relationship with Ashley.
Now look at the last to girls I've had problems with: Ginny and Grace. Notice how both names start with G, the letter absent from my name. And several years ago, Glennie also gave me a very hard time. Obviously, A has some problem with G. Having identified myself with A, I can no longer have any luck with the G people.
As I was walking down the street having just come up with this theory, I looked up and saw Amanda and Alexa walking down the street, like the letter A saying to me: yup. You're one of us now. Get used to it.

Problems with this theory:

Amy's name has a G in it.
Grace has at least two A's in her name
Ginny's name actually starts with V
Ashlee Pugh rejected me as well
It's total BS.

Emo poetry time

Seriously, blame my friend Grace.

Your Smile

I smile at you
Across the room
And you smile back and pull me in

Your eyes are wormholes
To a strange and fantastic world
I peer into them and see the possibilities
Of what we could be
And I can’t look away

But of course I know I must
And I know at this point I must be staring,
So I glance around,
Trying to find something,
Anything else to look at.

I settle on my feet.

Then he comes in.
He smiles at you
Across the room
And you smile back, the same smile

The same smile
Yet he is the one
Who will take your hand in his
And hold you when your world falls apart

And in your eyes,
I see what we have,
And what could be fade away,
And I know I will have to be content
with a whispered “hello”
and a smile from across the room

Dragon story redux

This is the actual first chapter of the dragon story. It's still only like half as long as a real chapter, but If I made them all actual chapter length then my story would be a depressingly short two and a half chapters, so I decided to delude myself into thinking it's longer by making them each about ten pages. Anyway, this is mostly stuff you've already read, but that was a long time ago and I've added descriptive passages and quite a bit of dialogue - all in all, fully a page of new material - and I also replaced several sections I didn't like or found akward. This comprises the first 6 or 7 old chapters.

Prologue

Where does a story begin? Aside from the creation narrative in the Bible, no story really starts where the narrative does - they tend to have at least a little background. Even if a story begins with the birth of the main character, there are still older characters whose early life and background will be alluded to, and thus an earlier part of the story remains untold. My story begins more than ten thousand years before I was born - but I'm a little sketchy on the details of that part. So I'm going to start at the earliest part where I can have some degree of accuracy, about a hundred and seventy years ago.
In 1856 in the town of Riverview, Indiana, population two hundred some, a stranger showed up. His name was Skyler Woods Brimmer. Skyler had no parents, and no family history to speak of - he said he was found by his mother on her doorstep when he was a baby. The woman who had raised him, he maintained, had lived alone, and she had just died, so he had come to Riverview to seek his fortune. Of course, none of this was true, but they had no reason to doubt it, so they all believed him. Hoosiers are simple folk, not used to deception, and ready to accept anyone who's willing to work hard and support themselves.
Skyler was well-liked by all of his neighbors, and set about making a life for himself. Four or five years later he got married. His wife was pregnant with his first son when the war broke out. Most of the men in the town signed up to fight on one side or the other, but Skyler had no desire to fight. Pressured by his friends, though, he eventually gave in. He fought with distinction but was put on the front lines at the battle of Shiloh. As his body was never recovered, he was proclaimed MIA, but his wife pretty much gave up hope when she heard the news. She named the boy Skyler Woods Brimmer Jr.
The second Skyler Woods Brimmer lived a fairly normal life, had two sons and three daughters, though what befell his daughters is information I've been unable to acquire. His second son died in a fire at the age of fourteen, His first son he named Skyler Woods Brimmer III, and the name has been passed down ever since. Interestingly enough, only one male heir from each generation has survived - any boys not named Skyler Woods tended to perish at an early age. In 1955, Skyler Woods Brimmer V gave birth to a daughter, Lisa Brimmer, my mother. Number five had the unfortunate distinction of being the first not to bear a son to carry on the name, though he did have three daughters. He was rather distraught about this fact most of his life, and it was his dying wish that Lisa name her son Skyler Woods Brimmer.
In 1983 Lisa married Wallace Tamsworth, a funeral parlor owner from Minnesota. When she married him, she insisted that their first son be named after her father, to honor his wishes. He found her obsession a little eccentric, but he was in love with her, so he agreed. They first gave birth to a daughter, my sister Katherine Tamsworth, and then 3 years later to me, Skyler Woods Brimmer VI. Three months later my mother disappeared. My father remarried a few years later, but it left me in the difficult position of being the only member of my family with my last name. Even more difficult when I learned the import of that name.
Skyler Woods Brimmer the first was no ordinary man. He passed on certain... talents to his descendants, and with them a name both famous and infamous in circles most people don't even know exist. I would discover all this eventually. But at the time, all it was was a long, cumbersome name, inherited from a woman I never got a chance to meet. I was an ordinary kid, with an ordinary life. But all that was about to change.

Chapter 1

Aside from a few isolated events that were lost on me at the time, the trouble really started when I was 16. The year was 2004, and anti-magic sentiment was sweeping the nation. The presidential election had been a close one, with magic–related issues at the forefront of both campaigns. The Magical Security and Protection Act, a conservative initiative that would allow the government to lock up suspected part-dragons and other semi-magical creatures, had just failed by a narrow margin in the Senate, but a provision had recently passed to cut off government funding to arcane research. On top off that, the supreme court had just upheld the decision of a Kansas schoolboard to remove any mention of the Arcane age from history classes. The officials claimed the so-called history was based on “rumor and speculation” – and contradicted biblical sources. They didn’t want their children exposed to it.
I personally didn't care much either way. As far as I knew I didn't know any part-humans, and there were so few left I thought the whole thing was blown way out of proportion. My older sister, however, had recently taken a fervent magical rights stand I didn’t completely understand. In fact, she had spent the past few months campaigning for a democratic Senator named Sean Walsh, who had eventually won reelection by a close margin. The presidential candidate she’d been supporting, however, had lost. I was a little upset, but it really didn’t matter all that much - I was just focusing on teenager things, trying to get through school and learn to drive.
My constant companions throughout high school were Jason Anderson and his little sister, Fay. Jason was my age, Fay was a year younger, and the three of us were inseperable. I probably spent as much if not more time at the Anderson home as I did at my own. The fourth member of our little quartet was Fay's best friend, Zhong Hua. Her parents had moved here from China before the first war, but she’d been very young then, and she was quite Americanized. I had acquaintances besides these three, but none were close friends, with one possible exception who I'll tell you about soon.
As close as they were, Jason and Fay were about as different as a brother and sister can be. Physically, they were both blonde and blue-eyed, but the resemblence ended there. Jason was a few inches taller than me and fairly well-built, but liked to make himself as small as possible. Fay, a diminutive 4'10", filled the room with her personality. She flirted incessantly with everyone, but had no desire for a boyfriend (or a girlfriend for that matter, though people did talk). Fay saw everything as a game, and dedicated her whole life to having as much fun as possible. This, combined with her inexhaustible energy, made her very attractive and a lot of fun to be around.
Jason, on the other hand, had until a few months ago had trouble even talking to anyone he didn't know. He seemed to have gotten over that and was now hopelessly trying to romance a very attractive young woman with whom he had no chance whatsoever. What was amusing was the zeal he put into it. It was as if instead of creeping out of his shell like most shy people do, he had done a complete one-eighty into being a vibrant, dynamic, and almost intimidating personality. He had lost all inhibitions and no longer cared what anyone thought about him. So far in his quest to win her heart had had tried everything from making her a new origami animal every day for a month to writing a song in four part harmony and mustering a quartet to sing outside her window. The girl, her name was Marissa, was either incredibly dense or just had a cruel sense of humor- she appeared to be totally oblivious to his advances. Jason, undeterred, continued to come up with new and increasingly absurd plans based on shaky or nonexistant logic. I watched this all unfold with a mix of bewilderment and pity.
The only other person I spent any amount of time with was a girl by the name of Mora Bridges. We met because we were seated in study hall together, the seating arrangments having been made alphabetically. Mora was an anomaly. She was fed up with the prevailing high-school culture, and as a result tried to get as far away from it as possible. Somewhere along the line, however, she discover these attempts had alligned her with a subculture, smaller but no less ‘fake’, as she put it, than regular culture. She was also openly gay, the one change from her counterculture days that had stuck. All these factors combined to create a very interesting person to be around. Her hair had been dyed so many times no one remembered its original color, but was currently black streaked with green. Her skin was pale and acne ridden, and her features severe. Her sharp nose was frequently ornamented with a small stud – she had given up on large rings, saying they were for ‘attention whores’. Her clothing was mostly black robes and cloaks from her ‘goth’ days combined with bright colors, tie-dye, and items she bought at vintage stores. She always wore layers, though, and flowing clothing which made her body type hard to determine. She was interested in various occult things – most of them on a purely scholarly level, although she had retained some pagan beliefs. Frequently, she would show me something from a book or website, and through her I learned a lot of seemingly useless trivia about the Arcane age. She had some very interesting theories about everything, and while I found them amusing, I seldom payed too much attention. Recently I wish I had.
So that’s what my life was like when all this started. One day, I came into the lunch room and sat down with Jason and Fay. Jason was looking, as always, across the table to where Marissa was sitting talking to her friends.
"How's it going?" I asked him
He sighed plaintively.
"Nothing's working," he said eventually, "I've tried gifts, singing, quoting the Bard... even baking cookies. No luck,"
"Everything short of, you know, asking her out," answered his sister sarcastically.
"Not my style," he answered, "I mean, eventually, of course, but first I have to win her over. She'd never say yes now,"
"How do you know if you haven't tried?" I asked.
"If I try and she says no," he explained, "I'll have to try again later, and asking for a second date after you've been rejected is just pathetic,"
"And following her down the hallway reading sonnets isn't?" asked Fay.
"I should go on a quest for her," said Jason suddenly, ignoring his sister, "Too bad there's no more dragons to slay,"
"Half-Dragons?" I suggested jokingly.
"Look," Fay cut in, "Jason, here's your problem. Well, one of many problems,” she snickered. “Every attempt you've made has been anywhere from a few decades to a few centuries out of date. If you want a quest that will impress her, you need something modern,"
"That's it!" cried Jason suddenly, as if an idea had coming flying from the sky like a meteor and hit him in the back of the head, "I'm going to steal Harvey!"
Ok, perhaps I should explain about Harvey. Jason and Fay's grandparents, Samuel and Samantha Anderson (people called them Sam & Sammy), were a little bit crazy. When they were in their late sixties, about eleven years ago, Sam found out he had a brain tumor and was going to die in a few months. So he decided, since he had nothing to lose, he would go on a motorcycle trip zig-zagging across the entire U.S., visiting every state along the way. Sammy decided she would go with him - it would be like a second honey moon. So they went off for their last hurrah. Along the way they sent fifty post cards to their grandkids - Fay keeps them all in a little box. I've read them. They're very funny. Sam was quite the character. In them he refers to the motorcycle as "Harvey" - Harvey the Harley.
He died two days after he got home. About two years ago, Sammy died. In her will she left "Harvey" to Jason and Fay. They were thrilled to hear this - their parents were less enthusiastic. They said the thing was a death trap, and neither of their children was getting on it. After months of convincing, they finally conceded to let Jason take classes and get a motorcycle license. For a while he drove Harvey around and he was happy. Then one day he very nearly got in a fatal accident. His parents locked up Harvey and forbid him to ride it again until he was eighteen.
Jason had talked about stealing Harvey many times since then, but he had never worked up the guts to actually do it. I figured this time would be the same.
“Like you haven’t said that before,” said Fay.
“I’m serious this time,” answered her brother. “I mean think about it. What could be more romantic than riding up to her on a motorcycle and asking if she wanted a ride?”
I could think of quite a few things, but I didn’t see much point in bringing them up. One thing I’d learned about Jason was that once he’d made up his mind, it was hard to argue with him. So instead I just said, “I suppose I’ll end up being involved in this,”
“’Course,” answered Jason, “I mean, if you want to,”
“Why not?” I said. I’d been in on enough of Jason and Fay’s schemes to know it was better just to go with it. “We should get together somewhere to plan how we’re gonna do it though,”
“Well, our house is out,” said Fay.
“Ya think?” answered Jason sarcastically. “How about your house, Sky?”
“There’s never any good food at Skyler’s house,” protested Faye.
This was true. My stepmom was something of a health nut, and junk food was severely regulated. Scheming was no fun without root beer and cheese puffs.
“Yeah,” replied Jason, “Good point. How about Zhong’s place?”
“Oooh, Asian junk food,” said Fay, “I could go for that.,”
The lunch bell rang. There was a bustle of activity as everyone scrambled to get there things and say goodbye to each other.
“I’ll ask her next period,” I said, picking up my backpack. “Call you tonight,”
My next period was study hall with Mora. Zhong was confined to the other side of the cafeteria by evil Nazi woman, but occasionally managed to wander over on false pretenses. Today Mora was pouring over a rather large document she'd printed off the internet.
"What's that?" I asked, with the sort of half interest I reserved for my dealings with Mora.
"My friend hacked these from the FBI site," she answered. She was probably lying, but I thought I'd indulge her. "They're records of all the known Draconics and part-dragons with ties to the twin cities area," She looked at it for a minute. "A through I," she added.
"Cool," I said.
"Yeah, theres a lot more than you'd think. Let's see..." she started reading, "Name: Thadius Hawkins. Status: Missing, presumed dead. Last seen October 23rd, 2002. Classification: Blue. You know how these work?"
"How what work?"
"Classifications. See, there are a bunch of different kinds of Draconics, each with different powers and skills. It's all super classified but I've figured out some stuff. Black is the least dangerous. The most dangerous is either gold or silver, I think. You generally don't want to cross any that are metallic sounding, though,"
"What's the difference?" I asked. I was actually somewhat interested at this point.
"Oh, you know," she answered. "Size, power, if they can fly, if they can breath fire or anything, that kinda stuff. Some types also tend to folow weird codes,"
"Like what?" I asked.
"Well, the Asian ones follow some kinda code of honor, and the European ones don't have anything like that. They think of themselves like Samurai or something. I don't know much about it,"
"Samurai are Japanese," I said. "Dragons are Chinese,"
"Whatever," she answered, then went back to reading.
She read in silence for a while, then looked up.
"Hey," she said, "Brimmer. Any relation?"
She held up the picture. The last time I'd seen that face in person I was three months old, but I'd memorized the picture. The text confirmed it. Name: Lisa Brimmer. Status: Captured, January 13th, 1989.
My initial reaction was just sort of a numb shock. I didn't say anything. I just kind of stared at the picture, wishing it wasn't there. At first it was just the shock of discovering that my Mother was a criminal. Then I realized it also meant she was probably alive. It hadn't yet sunk in that if my mother had dragon blood, I, by extension, also had it. I was taking it one step at a time.
"You ok?" asked Mora.
"Fine," I said, "I'm fine," I didn't want it to get out that my mother was in prison, or that she was a Draconic - they weren't exactly loved by the public right now, what with everything that was going on in the political arena. Still, I wanted a closer look.
"Can I have a copy of this?" I asked.
"Sure," she answered, "I can get another. I saved it all on to a disc. Why do you want one?"
I am terrible at impromptu lying. I tried to think of a convincing reason, but my imagination failed me. So I told a modified version of the truth.
"She looks familiar," I said, "We might be related, I'd like to find out,"
"If you're related, that'd make you part dragon, wouldn't it?" Mora said, "That'd be sweet!"
That's when it hit me. I was part dragon. If this got out, it could ruin me. Being a white male, I didn't have much experience being discriminated against, and I wasn't eager for that to change. People don't like Draconics. Can you blame them? With all the stories about Draconics burning down buildings and things – I could understand why they weren’t well liked. Still, whether I went Draconic or not, this would be bad for me. It could keep me out of colleges, work places, any government job, especially if these new laws were passed. To me it was a terrifying prospect, and Mora’s making light of it made me irrationally upset.
"What do you mean sweet?" I asked. "People hating you, not letting you do things because of something you have no control over, why would that be cool?!"
"Because," answered Mora, "You'd be able to shape change and burn people's houses down if they mistreated you,”
"Only if I actually go Draconic!" I answered.
"And why wouldn't you?" she asked, "Look, I know a thing or two about discrimination, and I can tell you, it sucks. But if people find out, they’ll discriminate against you just as much whether you use your powers or not. I mean, if you were gonna get the bad part anyway, why not get the benefit's too?"
"Because they put you in Jail!" I answered, "Yes, being a part-dragon sucks, but all they can do is discriminate against you in small places, you know, like keeping you out of jobs and things. If you go Draconic, you don't even need to commit a crime – once they pass this “Magical Security and Protection” law, anyway. You have no rights,"
"You don't think being able to fly and breathe fire is worth the extra persecution?" She asked.
"Not really," I answered truthfully.
"Well I would,” she answered, “Not going draconic seems kind of cowardy to me, actually,”
“How so?” I asked.
“I dunno,” she said. “Like trying to be something you’re not,”
"It doesn't matter," I lied, trying to get off the subject. "We're probably not related anyway,"
"Too bad," she answered.
I went back to looking at he paper. There wasn't a huge amount of information on my mother. Her classification was listed as silver. Height: 5' 8 (human); 6'6 (draconic), Weight: 140.
Member of the influential Brimmer family. Married, two children. Suspected leader of the Northern regional cell of the MFA. Has been involved in at least two robberies and one assasination. Currently being held at the Camelot facility.
I desperately wanted to be able to click on that link. My mother, a cell leader for the MFA? Why had this been kept from me? I wanted to find out. I thought about asking my father, but I didn't know how he'd react. There was really only one person I could trust with this, and I decided to try and get in touch with her when I got home.
Just then Zhong approached us, having somehow escaped her side of the cafeteria. That was good. I needed a distraction.
"Zhong!" I called. She looked startled, then saw me and wandered over.
"We need to use your house for plotting," I said, "Is that cool?"
"Tonight?" she asked, "No. My parents are entertaining guests. Some of my dad's investors, very important. Tomorrow good?"
"It'll do," I answered.
"Is that your mother?" asked Zhong, pointing to the papers.
Zhong had been to my house enough times to have seen the pictures, and she had a notoriously photographic memory. So much for keeping this secret. I had to try though.
"No,” I said, trying to appear cool, “The resemblance is striking, though, isn't it?"
"Yes," answered Zhong sarcastically, taking the paper, "And with the same name, too. How unlikely is that?"
"Wait a minute," said Mora, "Your mother? So we weren't talking hypotheticals a minute ago! You're actually a -"
"Shut up!" I said. I lowered my voice, "Guys, seriously, we have to keep this low profile. If it get's out, it could ruin my chances of getting into a good college or getting a good job. I could end up in prison. This isn't a joke,"
"Your secret's safe with me," said Mora, "But I would so start trying to develop your powers,"
"No," I said.
"What a waste," she answered.
"Is this what we're plotting about?" asked Zhong, suddenly very serious.
"No. That's just something silly. But I'd prefer you not tell anyone about this - even Jason and Fay. Is that alright?" I asked hopefully.
"Don't worry," said Zhong, "I'm good at keeping secrets. I've been holding on to some for years now,"
"Good," I answered, "I need time to figure this out. It might not even be real,"
"Ok," answered Zhong. "I'll see you tomorrow then, no?"
"Yeah," I answered, "See you then."
The bell rang, and we got up to leave. All the way home I went over all this in my head - what I'd do when they came for me, why they hadn't already - I mean they had have my name in a book somewhere, didn't they? I wonderted if I could really trust Mora. And I wondered if my mother really was still alive in some cell somewhere. I didn't know where the answers to these questions were, but I knew where I was going to start looking. I decided to put it out of my head for a while and think about stealing a motorcycle.

These things are fun.

Canadian PC - the adventure continues

Lame PC #2

Motivators

I have to post these here first so I can post them on the TWOP PC.. provided my account is verified in time.

Chapter XVI

Because it's been too damn long since I've written anything.

Erdyn paced the lobby of the Sorcerer's guild Pyramid. Not fair, he thought. He had rushed through his breakfast to get here exactly on time, and he'd been waiting for nearly half a fig.* This was absurd.
He looked around the large, rectangular room. The sorcerers, it was obvious, liked to show off. The two large couches on either side of the entrance changed color every few twigs, oscillating from red to orange to yellow and all the way down the spectrum, inexplicably stopping off at plaid in between blue and turquoise. The door on the opposite side had a few simple wooden chairs by it, perfectly normal except that they occasionally got up and walked around the room on their four legs. On the floor surrounding the door, carved into the wooden floor, were two concentric rings, with an ornate pattern strung between them. Every foot or so was a tiny circular indentation, inlayed with silver. On the right wall was a large portrait of a dark-skinned, bald human. He was quite muscular, in a turquoise vest with silver trim and sparkly silver pants and holding a wooden staff with a shining gem in it. The staff Erdyn recognized - Xindor had been carrying it when he first arrived. The inscription on the portrait simply read "Damien Windhammer, first Lord of the Stargem." This confused Erdyn - he wasn't one humdred percent sure what the stargem was, but he didn't even know it needed one lord, much less several. The only other ornamentation in the room was definately the most bizarre - and enormous, pulsating pair of human-looking ears on the left wall.
"I'm sure they'll see you as soon as they can Erdyn," reassured his brother. "They must be very busy,"
Just then, an unfamiliar elf stepped through the door. He was short, for an elf, bald and quite wiry, and he was holding a clipboard.
"Erdyn son of Indryn?" he said, looking down at the clip board. Erdyn nodded. "The council will see you now,"
"Finally," said Erdyn.
"Erdyn," said Halyn sharply.
The younger gnome glared at him.
"This way," said the elf.
Erdyn and Halyn followed him out the doorand to the left. He led them into a long hallway filled with portraits of various sorcerers in decisive, take-charge, action poses. All carried the same shining wooden staff. After two right turns, they reached a small, black door. Well, not exactly a door. More sort of a doorway. It was pure black as if no light could possibly escape. As if looking into it too long could be spomehow dangerous.
The elf spoke some words in a language Erdyn couldn't understand, and suddenly the doorway changed. Now instead of pure darkness it was sheathed in pure light. Erdyn shielded his eyes and turned away.
"Step through please," said their guide.
What? said Erdyn.
"It's safe," said the elf. "This is the entrance to the floor. Your brother and I are going to the gallery. They're expecting you. Step through,"
Erdyn took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stepped into the light. RThe light was so bright he clould feel it with his eyes closed. He kept walking forward. He was about to risk opening his eyes when he heard a shrill, female voice.
"Close the damn gateway!" it said.
There was a flash, and the light was gone. Erdyn opened his eyes.
He was standing on a large, circular platform. The room was dark - the main source of light was a ring of blue lights on the cieling and a bright white rectangle somewhere far above him, which vanished shortly. Actually, the platform he was on appeared, inexplicably, quite well lit. It was empty except for a lecturn and a bench next to it, and another black doorway, which appeared to lead nowhere. Beyond the platform however, was total darkness.
"Clear the lecturn," said Xindor's voice. The lecturn and bench vanished.
"Welcome, Erdyn, son of Indryn, of the Hills of Gloob," said Xindor. "Why have you come before the Elder Council of the Sorerer's Guild?"
You could hear the capitalization.
Erdyn thought this was rather silly. Xindor obviously knew why he was here. But he decided to play along anyway.
"I want to become a sorcerer," he said clearly.
"The guild is not for everyone," said another voice, this one lower and gravelly, "What makes you think you posess the innate magical skill required to manipulate the universe?"
Damn he's dramatic, thought Erdyn. He wondered whether it would be better to seem humble or confident. He thought what he could do was pretty good, but having seen the wonders he had since coming to Errilliance, he was no longer quite so sure.
"Well?" asked the rumbling voice.
"I have powers," said Erdyn. "In the past couple of months I've realized I could do things - not normal things,"
"Have you any bloodline?" asked the grumbly voice.
"Yes," said Erdyn. This part he had rehearsed, "My Great, Great, Grandfather, Sildyn son of Moolyn, was a member of the guild,"
"That is all?" said the low voice.
"That I know of," answered Erdyn.
"These powers," said a third voice. It was higher, female sounding, and somewhat shrill, "Can you control them, or do they happen spontaneously?"
"They basically only happen when I want them to," said Erdyn. This was mostly true.
"Would you care to demonstrate them, then?" she asked.
Erdyn nodded. He took a deep breath in and beban to concentrate very hard. He was glad it was dark. That would make this more impressive.
"Take your time," said Xindor, "We're in no hurry,"
Erdyn clasped his hand together and focused. Then he opened his hands just slightly and peeked in. A bead of light was nestled in his palm. He closed his hands again and concentrated even harder. Finally, he opened his hands. Four tiny circles of light, like bright fireflies, floated out. There was a mix of sounds from the group, mostly murmurs of what Erdyn hoped was approval.
Spurred on somewhat by this, Erdyn moved on to his next trick. He raised his hands into the air and thrust them forward, willing the lights to follow. The little beads zoomed off in the direction he was pointing, straight out into the gallery, until the illuminated Xindor's face, which Erdyn saw had broken into a small smile.
Erdyn pulled his hands in, beckoning the lights to return to him, then winked them out.
The crowd was murmering excitedly now, which Erdyn thought of as a good sign. There seemed to be quite a few more of them then he'd originally thought, though.
"Is that all?" asked the gruff voice.
Erdyn considered for a moment. Aw, what the underrealm? he thought, Might as well give it a shot. "There is one more little thing," he said uncertainly.
"Well, by all means, show us," said Xindor.
Erdyn nodded. He concentrated again, this time on his ears. He had decided some time ago his large, gnomish ears made the best demonstration of this ability. He concentrated on shrinking them.
After a minute or so, he reached up and touched them. They were smaller, but he wasn't sure the change was enough to be noticable.
There was hushed talking going on in a language Erdyn couldn't understand. Then the female voice spoke up.
"Is it just your ears, or can you resize anything?" she asked.
They'd noticed! Erdyn breathed a sigh of relief.
"I've only managed my ears, nose, and eyes. I tried to grow my whole head and I got a massive headache,"
Xindor laughed - a brief, percussive laugh that stopped almost immediately.
"SO it's a real change then - " he said, "Not illusory?"
"As far as I know," answered Erdyn.
"Then I would stop experimenting with it," said XIndor, "Transmutation magic can be very dangerous in the hands of an amatuer. Is that everything?"
"Yes sir," said Erdyn.
"You may go then," said Xindor."We'll let you know our decision by tomorrow. Thank you for your time,"
The black doorway behind Erdyn flashed white again. Erdyn closed his eyes and stepped through. He strode through the portrait hall with a little bounce in his step. He'd impressed them, he was sure of it. And he was on his way to becoming a sorcerer!

*A fig is a period of 9 lengths. A day is divided into 18 figs.

Picture!

Unfortunately, you can't see the tail in this one, but it's better than nothing.

Mutants!

X-men has never had one unified canon. There was one canon for the comic books, one for the, TV show, and an entirely different one for the movies. The characters and events are basically the smae, but what order they happen in and who's involved in them, and even who's a good guy and whose a bad guy, changes with each incarnation.
This will be both a blessing and a curse as far as Mutants! the Musical is concerned. On the one hand, it can have it's own canon, designed to incorporate the maximum number of mutant song and dance numbers. On the other hand, a lot more writing will be involved.