[name_f]Astra[/name_f] wriggled in anticipation, wondering what location they’d end up in for training today. From under her blindfold she tried to piece it out by cocking her head to either side, but it wouldn’t do. The radio was playing in the old canvas top Jeep and the path they traveled on was far too bumpy. Besides, she knew to just wait.
A few agonizing minutes later, [name_f]Carol[/name_f]‘s voice rang out from behind the wheel. "You ready, ol’ girl? We’re here!"
The smell of raw meat singed her nostrils. [name_f]Carol[/name_f] removed the falcon’s hood and set aside the perch as [name_f]Astra[/name_f] hopped onto her gloved arm. Then, with a nudge and the signal they’d practiced, [name_f]Astra[/name_f] took to the air. It was a good day to have wings.
(I took a look back at the rules and saw that we could do animals! Lol surprise, [name_f]Astra[/name_f]'s a peregrine falcon, the fastest moving animal in the world reaching speeds of 240mph in a dive! )
He stood tall, in an almost proud way, as he studied the area around him. [name_u]Auburn[/name_u] hair brushed back out of his face, [name_m]Lord[/name_m] [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] Abernathy studied the envelope in his hand, the address on it ever so slightly smudged by the one who’d written it. The place was rundown, practically falling apart, but it was where he was supposed to be. His ice-blue eyes seemed to cloud up as he thought about his reason for being there. But, he shook off the feeling and, with a glance down the road in each direction, he prepared himself. Straightening out his vest, he made his way up to the door and rang the bell.
Thea hadn’t heard that name before, and at Catholic school in the [name_u]South[/name_u], you knew everyone. She turned and craned her neck to see who this newcomer was.
She nearly gasped. It was him. Dressed dissimilarly, in the required [name_m]Ignatius[/name_m] uniform instead of the ragged jeans and sweater she had met him in, but she would never forget that face. Tousled brown hair, light brush of freckles across a tan face, and a star shaped birthmark on the top of his nose, the words escaped her mouth before her brain could even catch up.
“[name_u]Kit[/name_u]?”
He didn’t seem as surprised to see her as she was to see him. “Hey, [name_f]Thea[/name_f].”
Catherine got her letter last month. [name_f]Gertrude[/name_f], last week. While I hold onto hope like a lifeline that I wouldn’t receive my letter, every morning I sit, cross-legged at my doorstep, until I see the postman glance at me, then continue to bike past. [name_f]Susan[/name_f] and [name_m]Vincent[/name_m] ask me each morning what I’m waiting for, but I don’t have the heart to tell them.
“Mother, it’s no use waiting. You’re hurting yourself.” [name_f]Wendy[/name_f] is old enough to know the truth. She knows what I’m waiting for. She misses him too, but she’s stronger than me. She inherited her father’s bravery.
The following morning, I’m greeted at my doorstep by an unwelcome voice.
“[name_f]Mary[/name_f] [name_f]Margaret[/name_f] O’[name_m]Donnell[/name_m], yes?”
I glance up. “This is she.”
“A letter.”
I reach out, and he passes me the letter. I gently open it, my hands shaking.
"Dear Mrs. O’[name_m]Donnell[/name_m]
Please accept my deepest sympathy in the loss of your husband, Private First Class [name_m]Roger[/name_m] V. O’[name_m]Donnell[/name_m], who died in the service of his country on 6 [name_u]December[/name_u] 1918…"
There was no way she should have survived the snakes’ lair, especially with an open wound in one arm and a broken leg. She had no weapons. No food. No water.
The next month I was forced to think again.
Eve [name_u]Frost[/name_u] could never be defeated.
This time she had the snakes by her side. Each and every one of them had her symbol painted across their hoods in blood. The lilting lines twisted across each other to form a spiral-like shape, still shining.
Her eyes were always glassier than before. Her hair was always paler. There was always one more spiral scar etched into her arm, and there was one more fang hanging from the chain on her neck.
This time, however, more things were different than the same. A cloud of fog surrounded her, obscuring the silhouette that was her body. The grass beneath her feet would brown and shrivel up with her every step. She seemed much taller, and her eyes were a deep blood red. The thing that made me most curious, however, was the lack of a shining sword strapped to her side.
When she spoke, her voice was cold and lifeless. “[name_m]Don[/name_m]’t worry,” she said, sending ice down the back of my neck. “This time, our duel will be quick.”
At a snap of her fingers, each and every last snake charged.
[name_u]Snow[/name_u] gently fell in the garden. The little snowflakes did their tiny dance, slowly, side to side, before resting on the grass. [name_f]Valencia[/name_f] held out her hand and caught one. She could see its intricate design, unique and masterful, only briefly before it melted on her slender fingers. She took a deep breath. She was ready. [name_f]Valencia[/name_f] sank to her knees and carefully placed the pale lace box in the hole she had dug earlier. She thought about its contents; a teacup she and [name_f]Constance[/name_f] had used for their weekly tea parties, where [name_f]Valencia[/name_f] had stained her favorite bear trying to serve him earl grey. A bow their father had bought [name_f]Constance[/name_f] on his trip to Constantinople, which she wore every day for a year. A picture of the sisters at the ball, dolled up in blush and fancy hairdos that had taken them hours. The diamond ring [name_f]Constance[/name_f] had made [name_f]Valencia[/name_f] for her sixteenth birthday. [name_f]Valencia[/name_f] remembered what her sister had told her: “Diamonds are forever. I’ll love you forever, [name_u]Val[/name_u].” [name_f]Valencia[/name_f] tenderly shoveled snow over the box. “I’ll love you forever, [name_f]Constance[/name_f]”.
Michelle lazily walked to the dean’s office, as long as she got there before the hour is up there’s nothing anyone can do about it, so she likes to take her sweet time.
Upon arriving at the office and opening the door that lead to it, [name_f]Michelle[/name_f] was met with the dean sitting patiently in his chair.
“Take a seat.” The dean instructed, [name_f]Michelle[/name_f] did so as the dean opened a file.
“Miss… [name_f]Michelle[/name_f] [name_f]Alexandria[/name_f]… no surname?” The dean asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Bold of you to assume ‘[name_f]Alexandria[/name_f]’ isn’t my surname.” [name_f]Michelle[/name_f] shot back, leaning back on her chair.
“Is it?”
“I dunno, how about you take a guess?” [name_f]Michelle[/name_f] smirked.
Theodosia [name_f]Elena[/name_f] [name_m]Jenkins[/name_m] didn’t realize she was doing it again until the bitter taste of blood reached her tongue. She pulled her hand away from her mouth, disgusted with the mess she had made of her nail. She hurried to the kitchen to wrap it with a towel. Mama had told her to grow them out; that long, groomed fingernails would be the start of becoming civilized. [name_f]Theodosia[/name_f] didn’t care much for civilization. Her father’s job for the bank meant he could only make snowmen on Sundays. Not that they could make snowmen, since his automobile always turned the snow around it into sloshy grey mush. Papa didn’t need to work Saturdays, he just wanted his boss to like him. He certainly didn’t need a car, either, it was only a mile to town, but he wanted to show he can afford one. Life without such civil expectations would provide [name_f]Theodosia[/name_f] with peace. If she had that, maybe she’d stop biting her nails.
Timothy Williamsen climbed out of his father’s shiny black limousine and stretched his back.
“[name_m]Timmy[/name_m]!” he heard from behind him as his grandma ran up to wrap him in a warm bear hug. Taken by surprise, [name_u]Timothy[/name_u] tensed, then relaxed and laughed.
“[name_f]Mimi[/name_f], hello!” he greeted her, returning the embrace.
“How’s [name_m]Harvard[/name_m], [name_m]Timmy[/name_m]-boy?” She said, staring playfully into his joyful black eyes.
Suddenly, all of the pain was replaced with immense joy. The squinted blue eyes were ones I knew so well. I held her so very close and everything else in the world was reduced to blurred noise. It was completely awe striking to be finally holding my own child. A bittersweet feeling filled my heart as I noticed her soft strawberry blonde hair matched my late mother’s. That was the moment I decided on a name. [name_f]Every[/name_f] other one paled in comparison.
“[name_u]Aven[/name_u] [name_f]Ruth[/name_f] [name_u]Winslow[/name_u],” I whispered, unprompted.
She was there. She was there and I couldn’t believe it. Her spiky blonde hair caught my eye between the posters for [name_f]Amelia[/name_f] [name_m]Mitchell[/name_m]’s Student [name_m]Council[/name_m] campaign and a reminder that the library was closed during lunch as I pulled on the door. It had to be my imagination. No one would sit in that seat and anyone who tried, rushed to correct their mistake as soon as they saw me coming. But not her. She sat there, unbothered, picking at the corner of her book.
The pages were covered in flowers—a botany book, perhaps? The randomness of that subject was the only reason I didn’t have my eyebrows narrowed in the rigid, intimidating glare that no one challenged, even though I was a hopeless nerd who wouldn’t know how to hold a fist.
On the floor beside the coveted chair, the one in the corner away from the vent with the perfect butt-imprint in the center, was a purple backpack covered in pins. Stitched in rainbow thread across the front was the name [name_u]Endellion[/name_u] J. [name_m]Hersch[/name_m].
I stopped at [name_u]Endellion[/name_u]’s feet but she didn’t glance up until I cleared my throat. Her eyes, a deep and striking brown, blinked in surprise.
The first time I lay my eyes in her the last bell had just wrung. The courtyard was bustling with excitement. The little kids were running around and shrieking, playing tag or some other game of that sort. “Funny aren’t they?” someone asked behind me. Without bothering to turn around I answered the girl (which I new she was judging by the pitch of her voice) with a question. “[name_f]Do[/name_f] you think we were like that too?”
next name: [name_m]Wesley[/name_m] [name_u]Archer[/name_u]
A favorite song of mine echoed inside my head as I was met with the warmth of the classroom. In a swift motion, I set my heavy backpack on the floor next to my desk. I’d barely sat down before Ms. Grimbly’s squeaky wheelchair slid through the door. Behind her was a boy with firey red hair and a face full of freckles. His eyes matched my own, a rich hazel hue.
“Class,” our teacher announced “this is our new student, [name_m]Wesley[/name_m] [name_u]Archer[/name_u]. [name_m]Say[/name_m] hello to [name_m]Wes[/name_m] everybody.”
The room filled with a quilt of awkward greetings. [name_m]Wes[/name_m]'s shiny braces shone as he smiled at everyone. The empty desk beside me caught his eye, and Ms. Grimbly nodded. That’s where [name_f]Marla[/name_f] [name_m]Webb[/name_m] spent her weekday mornings before she got cancer.
“H-hi.” I managed to say. I’d always been shy.
“Hello! Oh, do you like Pokémon?” He gestured toward my bracelet.
“Yes, I do.” I knew this was the best friend I’d been waiting for.
Phillipa was minding her own business at the local grocery store, trying to tell the difference between grape and cherry tomatoes, when a tall-ish boy with a round head and glasses came running up to her.
He stammered the words in an excited voice. “P-P-[name_f]Pippa[/name_f]? [name_f]Pippa[/name_f] [name_u]Harmony[/name_u]?”
[name_f]Phillipa[/name_f] felt the familiar rush of recognition, a combination of ego-boost and annoyance. However, it had been years since anyone had recognized her, so her smile was far more real than forced.
“Yeah, but it’s [name_f]Phillipa[/name_f] now, [name_f]Phillipa[/name_f] [name_m]Winters[/name_m].”
“I can’t believe I’m really meeting you! I heard your song ‘Vaseline’ in my mom’s car,” he said, nodding toward a dowdy woman standing by the onions, “and I’ve just loved you ever since!”
“Well, kid, it was good to meet you. Stay in school,” [name_f]Phillipa[/name_f] replied with a wink.
Anne was never especially friendly. [name_m]Even[/name_m] as a baby, her piercing little eyes made nobody want to hold her for long. As an adult, things weren’t much different. Her mother told her to smile more. Her father told her to make conversation. Her grandmother told her to get some friends. [name_u]Anne[/name_u] had what her sister said was “chronic cantankerosity” and what [name_u]Anne[/name_u] herself called “chronic cantankerousness”. The official term was never determined, although not without a struggle. [name_u]Anne[/name_u]’s world revolved around each current complaint. Self-pity was a comforting bath that she didn’t care to leave, even when it ran cold. That is, until everything changed for [name_u]Anne[/name_u] [name_u]Sheridan[/name_u] Bisset.
Agnes [name_f]Irene[/name_f] (last name of your choice)
The flight attendent was not particularly sensitive as she announced over the intercom:
“The pilot has ordered that all seatbelts be properly fastened during this time.”
As she spoke, the attendent’s hostile gaze was fastened on a curious character behind me. I turned to see the target in question, and my turn was met with the pointed stare of a lovely woman in her twenties. The woman responded to the attendent’s orders by abruptly taking the seat beside me and securing the seatbelt. I was almost too shocked to respond, yet I managed to inform her that she had taken the wrong seat. She smiled.
“Of course I didn’t. You’re simply in the wrong aisle. No worries, I don’t mind.”
I couldn’t comprehend what she was telling me. I must have looked very strange in my state of confusion, because my mysterious neighbor was visibly concerned for my well-being.
“I’m [name_f]Agnes[/name_f]. [name_f]Agnes[/name_f] [name_f]Irene[/name_f],” she said, “you don’t look well. Have some water.”
I accepted, surprised. I took a single sip, and that was all I remembered of the rest of that flight, and for that matter, the rest of the day.
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