Devi was slow to wake from his transe-like sleep, at first only shifting before finally lifting his eyes to the light. The figure standing above him looked down, arms crossed with a scowl twisting their face. Devi smiled, not fully understanding what was going on but knowing that whatever it was, he could charm his way out of it.

Think back in time just a bit. The majority of writers were white as caucasians were taking over the world. The only books that people had access to were showing white characters writen by white authors. The main problem there was that even authors of other ethnicities were writing white characters because that's all they had read about.

Now, think of it like this. What if white people wrote the stories of black or asian people? How do you think that could change?

And now think of current day. We have increasing numbers of interracial people being born, but they are still being categorized in one group based on their skin tone. Where do you want to draw the line? On the identity people feel closest to, or to the one that is most relatable to their target audience? Or should they have all their characters identify as interracial?

Let's get into a bit more sketchy territory now. Look at the most famous authors of our time. How many of them are white? How many of them are any other skin tone? It's still disproportional to the ratios within America as a whole (I am taking an American-centric view for this). How can you tell someone to limit their characters and their experiences due to the experiences of the author? How does that send messages to the audience about how characters should be?

Recent works in the young adult section have been adding in people of color as the main character but that doens't mean they're easy to find. There's also the aspect that the general assumption of the character is that they're white no matter their experience, unless the cover shows the face of how the character has been imagined.

What message does this send people? That main characters should be white? What message does it send young white readers when they see white people writing about white people, or black readers when they see the same thing?

American culture is dominated by the belief that a white skin tone is the average, the norm. And books are a part of that system of belief, and the idea that people of different colors can't understand the struggles of others.

This should change. Why not start with books?

Every so often... it happens... they... the words... disappear. Not selective, not mute. Just gone, the words are gone, they don't plan to return. You can slow, you can search... but that doesn't mean they appear.

Go ahead, reach out, search for your sound. The color that escaped from your lungs, that were shaped through your lips and pressed with the tongue. Find them, if you can. Fail, because you can't.

Though English, Spanish, French, Hindi, the tongue continues to form shapes, the lips press words through their funnel, the lungs shoot air up the throat to begin the vibrations. Everything functions.

Except that it doesn't.

Silence roars out, defining in their lack of presence. Distracting, drawing attention, but not the type you're looking for. There is pity. Your lips are imposters. They move in a mimic of words that have given up, that no longer wish to leave the depths of your chest and vibrate through the free air.

Pen and paper, your last resort. But there is a lack of patience, no one wants to wait for the words to escape onto the page and travel through the light into their eyes.

The words are still lost in your throat, in your lungs, in the blood flowing through your veins and into the neurons of your brain.

The electricity doesn't make its way into your mouth, instead it stays in your brain, sending flashes of heat through your spine and into your body as irritation spikes and frustration grows.

Still no sound manages a whisper across your lips.

'I know that song. I know that beat, the tones that echo through the house,' Sonica thought as she raced down the stairs, practically leaping around the turn and dashing towards the TV her brothers were watching. She plunked herself down on the ground since the couch was already filled.

Leverage was just starting up as the intro goes through reintroducing the characters and their roles. Sonica could feel her heart racing and had to silence the urge to bounce around in excitement. Instead she vibrated a little and began quoting the lines with her brothers as the episode began.

By halfway through the episode, all three siblings were laughing with tears in their eyes before their parents called everyone up to get ready for dinner.

"Coming, dad!" Sonica yelled, before racing up the stairs once more. Much to her brothers’ annoyance, they were left to clean up the room and turn off the lights. She grabbed pans piled high with food from where her papa was cooking and brought them over to the table as her dad brought over utensils and plates.

"Oi, slow down Ica!" Papa said, "Some of these are hot, don't burn yourself."

"I know, I know. It's fine, I've got tough hands." He tried whacking her with the back of his wooden spoon, but she dodged out of the way with a grin. Papa returned it before turning back to the stove.

"Dad, how was work? Did you meet any interesting people today?" Her dad was an artist that was slowly building up his network after having moved to a new town. His work was fantastic and they had pieces all over the house of different animals and scenery. Some of them were outlines of the kids with colorful backgrounds. That series of paintings was Sonica's idea.

"Nah, not today. I did meet up with Robin again, though. She wondered if you were going to join me again soon, it's been a while since she's seen you."

"Robin's back? Awesome! I'll message her later. Did she have any new series? Or was she visiting her dad again?" Robin was similar to a mentor for Sonica. She was another artist for Sonica to learn from outside of her dad's influence, and it helped her develop her own style of art.

"Ica, put your phone away! You can message Robin later." Papa scolded before shouting, "Boys! Get your butts up here, it's time for dinner!" The two boys scrambled their way up the stairs, shoving each other to see who reached the top first.

"I won!" the older of the twins, Rayaan, said while almost punching Aarone in the face. Aarone responded with a sharp elbow to the side. "Rude," he said, holding his rib cage.

"Whatever dork, don't hit me." Rayaan responded with an attempted slap while Aarone aimed a kick to his legs.

"Hey! Move away from the stairs!" Papa shouted. The twins moved over to the table and sat down next to each other, still within shoving distance.

"Well then, you two missed out on hearing about Robin. She's around if you want to catch up." Dad said in an effort to distract the two from possibly causing an accidental blood bath.

"Cool," Aarone said and he and Rayaan simultaneously reached for a paratha. "I'll message her later. Has she been working on any new projects?"

"Not that I know of, but you can always ask. How were all of your guys' days?"

"Awesome! Remember Cali? I was telling you about her last week? The one who's awesome at physics?" Sonica waited until her dad and papa nodded. "Well, we're going to hang out tomorrow to try roller skating! Turns out she's really good! Hopefully I won't fall on my face, but we'll see!"

"Don't worry, Ica!" Rayaan said.

"You absolutely will! Man, I wish I could watch that... wonder if they'll have a video on the security camera. I bet you'd go viral!" Sonica launched her napkin at Aarone, but it floated down harmlessly.

"Oooh, you're right! I bet you'll manage to do a flip! And then land on your butt with your arms flying everywhere! Just don't squish the little children, okay, didi?" Sonica threw her spoon at Rayaan, hitting him in the chest. He laughed it off.

"You two are so rude!"

"And you shouldn't be throwing your silverware." Sonica shrugged at her dad. It was fine, no one got hurt or anything. Besides, everyone was used to it.

"Papa, what did you do today? Change any lives yet?"

"Sadly not yet," he said. "The team is still working on the internet problem, but it looks like we can at least extend broadband to more rural areas than it currently has. That doesn't do anything with the speed as of yet, but there's always the next steps."

"Well, that's progress at least! So, yay!" Sonica grinned at her papa and he grinned back.

"Okay, but can we change back to the topic of Sonica getting a date?"

"Oh, shut up, you menace!"

...

Sonica's brothers helped her pick an outfit, though helped might be a strong word for what actually happened.

"What do you think makes her look more gay? The flannel or the graphic tee? I can't tell anymore."

"Doesn't matter, Cali probably won't notice. She sounds straight, right?"

"Shut up you two! It's not even a date!" The boys were piling clothes onto her bed. They ranged from dresses to what some of Sonica's friends have called a 'hobo outfit'. Kicking the twins out didn't work, even though she needed to head out in just a few minutes in order to get to the skating rink in time.

"Alright, back up. I'm just gonna grab some stuff and throw it on, so leave me alone!"

"What, are you shyyyy?" Aarone asked with mischief shining in his eyes.

"No, I just want you out! Next thing I know you'll just start putting on the clothes I'm trying to wear. So, out!" Rayaan had already walked out the door as Sonica pushed Aarone the rest of the way. She swung the door shut, but it stayed just a little bit open as per usual. It didn't matter if she closed it fully or not, the two were already gone.

"Now, what to wear..." She grabbed an Iron Man shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, then some thin socks that went about halfway up her shin. Cali warned her that the shoes would rub up against her skin if she wore the ankle-length socks.

She searched through her wallet to find the $10 entrance fee for the rink before heading out the door. Another thing Cali warned her about was people trying to snatch cash from others. Turns out some rinks in the area had that type of culture, and this happened to be one of them. Most people leave extra cash at home.

"Bye dad, bye papa!" she shouted while walking through the door. Her and her brothers shared a car that used to be owned by their aunt until she got a newer one, which meant there would be times it was completely trashed - after Aarone drove - and other times it was extremely clean - after Rayaan drove. This time it was pretty clean, so Sonica didn't spend any time sifting through the extra trash to make the front seat usable.

She jammed out to Foster the People and lovelytheband as their top songs played on the radio, and switched the station once “Californication” started. Only twenty minutes later and she was at the rink where a small line had formed.

Cali was waiting with a small group of people. Sonica knew a couple of them. She was close friends with Lee, a sweet girl that was interested in drumming and helped out with show choir. She had a bubbly personality that fit with most groups and a wicked sense of humor that earned her a spot with the so-called punks.

"Lee! Cali! Hey!" The two waved as Sonica approached and Lee bounced over and launched herself onto Sonica who barely managed to catch the girl's flying body. With a pair of legs now wrapped around her waist, Sonica waddled over to the group. "Hey, Lee. It's been a bit!"

"Heh, I know, an entire four hours! How you could survive for so long is beyond me."

"Sure, munchkin. I'll just make sure to die the next time we separate, good?"

"Sounds perfect! You can never leave me again." They both grinned.

"Guys, come on!" Cali shouts. The line had been moving forwards while Lee and Sonica were in their own little world, and now the group was at the front. Lee jumped off Sonica so they could hand over their entry fee and walk into the rink.

"So, do you guys just skate the entire time? It's, like, five hours straight." Lee hummed and shook her head.

"Nope! There's a few people in our group who don't even like skating, so they stick with hanging out and talking. Or, you know, games. Truth or dare, never have I ever, that sort of thing."

"So what you're telling me is that this is basically a sleepover with the possibility of getting run over by people on wheels." In lieu of a response, Lee just pulled her away and to the roller skate checkout counter. After her feet were tied in, Sonica was dragged onto the skating floor, stumbling only a couple of times on the carpet.

"Cali!" Lee shouted. "Come teach her already! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

"Alright, I'm here. You can run off and I'll take good care of Sonica, happy?" Lee waited barely half a second before zooming off across the floor and seemingly racing with a random person whose hat she knocked off. Hopefully it was someone she actually knew.

"Alright, grab my hands. I'm going to skate backwards and guide you, just place some of your weight on me if you feel like you're going to fall. Other than that, it's just like walking. Okay?"

"Okay, sure. Walking, I can sometimes do that." Sonica stepped out onto the smooth plastic tiles, panicking a little as the skates shifted around underneath her. Cali slowly pulled her forwards, making sure to stay at the side of the rink in case Sonica fell. Which happened. A lot.

Lee was merciless whenever she stopped by to check out Sonica's progress. "Wow, you really do suck at this."

"It's okay, you don't have to love me. I'll just stew in my failures and inadequacy over here. Alone. With only strangers to console me."

"Hey, you still have me helping you out. And you're doing great, a lot better than some of the people that come here." Sonica smiled at Cali before sticking her tongue out at Lee. Her gesture was returned in kind.

"Come on, let's take a break. Lee, you coming?" Cali began guiding Sonica to the seating area.

"Sure, I could use a drink." Cali went to a booth that had another group of people sitting there, shoving her way to sit down and make enough room for Sonica to join as well. Lee went to grab her drink.

"Alright guys, this is Sonica. Sonica, this is everyone. Michael, Cat, Sarah, Tyler, Vala and Erbadersh. Don't mess with her, she's mine. And Lee will kill you. Yeah, I'm looking at you Vala."

"What? I was just going to ask about her shirt. Iron Man, huh? Not a Cap fan?"

"If you're looking to argue, might not want to get into it with me. I will crush your dreams," Sonica stated. She was willing to go through hell and back to protect her self-proclaimed baby.

"Wasn't going to fight you on that but noted."

"Good."

...

The rest of the night went by fine. Sonica managed a couple laps around the rink by herself, though Cali stayed close by to help if she fell. Lee ran into her a couple of times though thankfully she didn't knock Sonica down too hard. At the end of the night, with everyone exhausted, Sonica, Cali and Lee were sitting in the booth with all of their weight spread on the others. Sonica and Cali's fingers were interlaced until it was time to separate and drive home.

I mourn my inability to withdraw,

To back away from the pain inflicted by my children.

The damage has been done,

Healing must start and forgiveness must be given.

There is no other option.

Even as my children lie upon the ground,

Their homes destroyed by their siblings,

I must remember to quell my anger.

My body aches at the premature deaths,

But speaking my anger will lead to more.

And so I mourn.

I don't fight, not as I am destroyed,

Not as my trees are ripped from their roots,

Not my life burned away from me,

Not as I am struck deep in the side by a drill.

I won't fight. I no longer can.

Research is the bane of my existance.

What I write needs to make sense, it needs to be accurate, at least to the best of my ability. No, I can't just use a random acid, it needs to be perfect. No, the escape route can't be through a freaking window, how does that make sense? People could see.

So instead I stay stuck, same situation, same character, same issue. As I try and solve the problem they wait. And wait. And wait.

If I grow bored of research they never return to action. I don't mourn, I promise to return and continue their lives through their story, to extend their existance until the proper conclusion. I haven't, not yet. Not a single piece is brought to it's conclusion, instead the story lies in wait for one day of release from their frozen states within a statis screen.

I can't apologize. I know I will do it again, there's no way I will manage to hold onto the tails of my story and draw it's body back towards the pages to lay in black ink.

Instead it lays underneath the digital gravestone markers within the files of my computer. They don't ask to be recovered, they aren't yet loud enough to have a voice. They haven't been taught how to scream with all the personality I have added, they haven't existed long enough to know.

And so I leave them, hundreds of newborn pages lost in though. I do visit their graves, but none call out. I present their new siblings with the hope the new one will be fully brought into the world.

Only a few are successful yet, a few that haven't laid to rest with the others.

But still I don't mourn.

If a promise can't be kept but is still made, what trust can be left within the person? Will they still be able to trust people, still be able to hope? If, little by little, their beliefs are whittled down to the point where they no longer can open themselves up to others, is there really something worse?

Don't get me wrong, murder is horrible, so is sexual assult and bigotry. But people are still able to form trust in people as long as they live, as long as they haven't given up on trusting people close to them. Their last supports. Healing is still a possibility as long as there is trust and hope.

If someone is fooled multiple times, with multiple promises broken, can they continue to trust themself? They, as the person who has been fooled, will no longer be able to believe in their own actions, in their own beliefs. And will end up destroyed.

What could be worse?

Everyone would see the sun rule the skies during day. The shining light washed over everything and everyone, giving color and life and energy, and people loved it. However, the sun was not the only to watch over the world. Silently, the moon followed behind. It watched the beauty of people growing, watched as animals played and plants grew up towards the sun. But that wasn’t all it saw.

There were others, small creatures that slept through out the day. They weren’t able to join the others and play in the light, their eyes would not allow it. Instead, the moon would watch for brief periods as these small animals slowly left their hiding places at dusk while everyone else went to sleep, and after the sun had left.

The moon couldn’t watch for long, not if they were to follow the sun around the world as a silent presence.

As the days trailed past, the moon would wait longer and longer to see who all would show up after sun drifted past them and the light left their lands. Little winged creatures peaked out, testing their eyes in the dark as eyes that shown with their own glow darted around across the ground. The moon stayed watching for as long as it could, only trailing after once more when the sun grew worried.

The sun was not used to the moon wandering off. In all their time together, moon stayed close in sight even as the sun’s rays made it invisible to all on the land. The sun’s constant companion changing it’s actions was curious to say the least, but the sun did not dare to linger and watch what the moon did. Staying in the same land would cause havic to those below, the plants would start to burn and wither, while other areas would freeze and die.

The sun would not make that mistake again.

And so it traveled, mourning the moon’s absense as it drifted away from the sun for longer periods every day.

The moon did regret the lost of their friend at times. Not that they were forever to be apart, the moon could decide when to follow more closely behind during some days, though others they trailed farther away. At one point, the moon noticed the sky, not just the ground and those living on it. Up above and around it were twinkling lights, most white though some were blues and yellows and reds. They danced off in the distance and the moon longed to join, but there was a job to be done.

Since the moon began to wait and watched some of the critters living on earth, it noticed an improvemennt. They were better fed, though for what reason the moon wasn't able to decipher. An idea flitted through it's mind that maybe, maybe the light which was reflected off of itself allowed the animals to hunt better and for longer.

It was a silly idea, for the animals had survided for so long without the assistance of the moon, but it couldn't help but wonder.

The moon decided to talk with the sun and figure out what was best to do. It loved the night and watching the animals and the stars dance among the moonlight, and it loved the reflection it made in pools of water with stars sparkling among it. But the sun knew what was best for the earth and for the animals. It was more important to learn the opinion of the sun than to go off on its own.

The sun was sad, of course. It's best friend was leaving, even though it wasn't for good. Traveling the skys alone was not what the sun had in mind to spend the rest of days, but it agreed that with the last glimse of creatures which came out as the sun left, each creature was happier and healthier. It couldn't see the moon was it danced with the stars, with the sun's brehteren, but if the moon was happy with them, the sun was willing to comply.

They would meet often, and on those nights the sky stayed dark as it had for hundreds of years before the moon strayed away from the sun. As the sun worked, it listened to the moon's stories about each life it saw and the dances the stars performed.

It talked about the beauty of darkness, and how moonlight shining on a pond was the most gorgeous sight, surpassed only by the sun rising around the earth as the moon stayed only a small away ahead.

The sun told stories of the flowers growing and daylight animals playing, how animals would bask in the warm heat of its rays. How it loved spending time with the moon, and loved their reflection that would shine down on water with the moon floating right next to the sun.

And then they would part, and the sun would travel it's lonely route while the moon enjoyed the beauties of the world.

The lights behind her eyelids blurred and swayed.

Was she falling? No. Each pad of her finger tips had a solid base. Cool and smooth, but not fully. A crack of light become brighter and the skin of her hands shown through.

When did she close her eyes? Why are they opening now? She leaned back, enjoying the cushion provided. Was it a chair? Not a couch, too firm to be a couch. Where was she?

Opening her eyes more caused the blurred lights to gain colors. Dull browns and tans made up walls and desks. A classroom, it would seem. And empty one. Objects were scattered about in front of her. There was as a desk, that’s what she felt. Had class ended? When did class start? She lifted her bag and filled it with all her stuff. The world shifted again as she looked towards the door.

Voices filtered in, quietly murmuring among others, some cutting through the haze with excited tones. She walked out the door, still swaying, at least it seemed like that. There was a pressure on her neck as it moved, but nothing was there. She couldn’t find jewelry that would restrict here, nothing.

Her heart pounded a steady beat, she could feel it. Feel the pulse in her fingertips and the energy it sapped from her body with each thump. There was a face she recognized, and she smiled.

It was a reflex. Who was that again? A classmate? A friend? Who knows, she just had to smile.

What was next? A class? Studying? Was she free for the day, free to go back to the dorms and rest among her friends and the voices she knew, the presence she was warmed by? Could she bask in the heat of people and fall back to a dream? Was she already in a dream, and that was why the world moved as it did, has she ever woken up?

Who knows.

She watched time pass by, more blurs of motion as she woke with a bang. Someone was shouting, and she knew the voice but couldn’t place it, not now, not anymore. It was too much, too loud, and her heart raced but she couldn’t move. Despite the scare, no energy was left. Instead she watched with wide, blurred eyes as a man -- a friend? A classmate? Who knows -- gestures wildly with a smile on his face and too many grins around the room.

Some turn towards her, they soften and hands reach and she can’t move, not an inch. But she smiles, it’s a reflex. She should know these people, should have seen them before. But her eyes can’t distinguish, their faces are a mess of color and sound that attack her so she smiles and hope they calm.

The beating of her chest steadies but she isn’t able to relax, not again. The murmurs are too loud, too close. There’s not danger, there’s never danger, not here in this place.

Where was this place again?

She doesn't know. But it’s safe. What is a safe space?

Safety is a concept she knows and hasn’t felt, but allows to replicate. This space is meant to be safe, therefore she must feel safe. She must smile, she must relax, even as the world blurs together and she has lost track of herself. Here is safe, with the lines running along her cushions, her couch, and the color of voices streaming through her ears, a hand on her back, moving in circles of comfort.

This is meant to be safe, it must be safe.

Even as her heart continues to pound off beat. It can't think, it can't know.

She knows better, she's been told what Safe is. She'll listen, she'll smile. The blurred faces and their grins look down apon her and her eyes slip shut, she slips into darkess.