As Willow dug through the dirt of the gigantic, old oak tree, she wiped her forehead free of sweat. Sprawling roots were scattered beneath the ground, tricking her brain into believing for a moment that she’d found what she was searching for. The hot, afternoon sun blazed on her back; hours ago, she’d shed her jacket and wrapped it around her waist due to the heat.

She sighed and plopped down on the soft grass. Willow had spent the last three hours digging in this exact spot. Still, nothing but burrowing worms and tree roots had revealed itself to her.

All of her friends had been searching for this last item for days. The most quirky and creative of the group, Gia had put together a massive scavenger hunt in which all of her closest friends could partake. Everything but the last item had been found, and the results of each task had been brilliant so far.

Shaking her head in temporary defeat, Willow wound her way down the lonely hill, eager to at least have a nice meal at Gia’s place.

Gia was not the most affluent of the group of friends, but what she lacked in funds, she made up for in spirit. Though relatively small, her home was covered in decorations and paintings that screamed of her personality. Each wall in the house was painted a different color, encompassing every shade of the rainbow. No less than five cuckoo clocks filled the walls, which also displayed photos in gilded frames that Gia had taken herself. A sculpture of a life-size unicorn stood standing on a bench window near the dining room.

However, the most stunning and intricate of all was a self-painted masterpiece on Gia’s bedroom wall. It contained all of her friends in a sunlit field, standing in poses of strength like queens and warriors. They were standing in front of a large oak tree which was surrounded by a myriad of ordinary and extraordinary sights.

In the grass flew many beautiful butterflies, which led up to lantern like fireflies in the night sky. The stars twinkled above as constellations spanned the top of the painting. Gia, in a spectacularly embellished space suit, rode a sparkling dolphin through the sky, a joyful grin on her lips. Unicorns and giants poked their heads through the forest on the right-hand side. This painting evoked a sense of wonder and joy for all those who laid eyes upon it.

The four friends sat around Gia’s wooden dining table, discussing the scavenger hunt and the challenge of the last task.

“The last one was the best,” Willow said with enthusiasm.

“Definitely,” Holly agreed, sipping her tea. She wore an ornate, silver and blue ring on her left hand. It caught the light from the nearby window in a mesmerizing fashion, reflecting onto the wall next to her like flowing ocean waves.

“And the way that dolphin jumped out of the water right when Holly found it,” Maeve interjected. “Amazing!”

“But we still can’t find the last item,” Willow said to the room at large, slightly frustrated. “It seems like we’ve looked everywhere.”

“It does have to do with the oak tree, right, Gia?” Holly asked.

“Maybe,” Gia replied with a slight grin on her face. They all knew now, thanks to Holly’s intellectual prowess, that the scavenger hunt was based off of the painting in Gia’s room.

“We’ve checked every tree,” Maeve said, groaning. “Maybe it doesn’t.”

“Are you sure you’ve checked every one?” Gia asked.

“Yes,” Willow replied. “I was just digging under the one by Melding Heart’s Lake, and nothing.”

Gia looked surprised. “Are you sure you looked hard enough?”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “I was there for three hours, so I don’t think I could’ve missed it.”

“Let’s go,” Gia said suddenly.

“What?” Maeve said, half of a croissant still in her mouth.

“I’m sure it was there,” Gia said distractedly, as the rest of the gang hurried to grab their things.

The sun was just peeking out over the horizon as they stood in front of the lone tree. Dirt was still scattered everywhere from Willow’s previous attempts at locating the treasure, and some fresh soil had been overturned from Gia’s search.

“I don’t get it. It was right here,” Gia said, frowning at the ground.

“I don’t know, G,” Holly said. “Maybe someone took it? Anyway, we should probably get back inside. It’s getting late.”

Reluctantly, the four friends trekked back to their car, unhappy with the dissatisfying end to their shared event.

The next week, however, brought interesting news. Willow, Maeve, and Gia were all gathered at Holly’s house for their weekly D&D game. Gia had arrived with a new companion, who she introduced as Beth.

Beth smiled shyly at the other girls and gave a friendly wave.

“Come. Sit,” Gia said, ushering Beth over to the table they used to play the game.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Gia said to her friends. “It’s the craziest story.”

Gia explained that Beth, a lover of nature, went out every weekend to find the best spots to observe the natural world and illustrate its many wonders. She’d come across the tree near Melding Heart’s Lake, and, after sitting down on the smooth dirt to draw the beautiful, sparkling water, she noticed an uneven patch of soil.

“So, I decided to dig it up and found this,” Beth interjected politely. She seemed to be a bit more comfortable around the girls now.

Beth held up a beautiful locket shaped like a heart. “I figured it was a geocaching sort of thing, so I took it, and I’ve been wearing it ever since. Gia saw me wearing it at the farmer’s market downtown a few days ago, and we got to talking and figured out that it was the same one she’d hidden for your scavenger hunt.”

Maeve laughed lightheartedly. “Well, I guess you’re a part of our group now.” She smiled.

Willow, Holly, Maeve, and Gia all became fast friends with the newcomer, who had much in common with all of them. Soon, they were laughing and talking as if they’d known each other for years. All too soon it seemed, the sun was setting on Holly’s pristine and well-organized home.

A few months later, the group of five walked into Gia’s bedroom. Beth’s eyes were covered by Maeve’s hands.

“One . . . two . . . three!” the girls said in unison, and Beth’s eyes fell upon the spectacular image on Gia’s bedroom wall.

There Beth was, leaning against the oak tree next to Willow, Holly, and Maeve, a sunflower placed delicately in her auburn hair and her smile mirroring the brightness of the sun.

“It’s beautiful,” Beth said, close to tears.

The group of friends captured Beth in a group hug, laughing and smiling in the joyful experience that is true friendship.

As I blaze a trail through the vast and overgrown forest, I realize that nothing can harm me now. The trees blur as I sprint between them. The leaves and branches that cover the ground barely touch my bare feet. I feel as though I’m flying, my worries left so far back that if I were to look behind myself, they would be mere phantoms in the distance.

But I do not look back. My future lies ahead, and if I were to turn away for just a second, everything I’ve been working towards would come to a crashing halt. Instead of the confident, agile, and quick-thinking being I once was, I would be reduced to a lost soul, struggling to find my bearings in a dark and unforgiving world.

Though you see me as strong and powerful in my stride, I am not as undaunted by difficulties as you may think. Fear is my constant companion. It creeps up on me even now.

At times, I will stumble. An obstacle I haven’t foreseen will break my focus, and I will become that lost version of myself. In those times, I tend to close my eyes and breath, centering my vision and place in this vast universe. Looking up, the full moon will shine down on my face, illuminating the path ahead and reminding me of my eternal purpose.

With the moon’s light to guide me, I will then sprint forward and find my way towards that weightless feeling I so desire with the realization that my life is a never-ending cycle of weightlessness and despair, hope and loss.

I’ve promised myself, like all others before me, to never surrender to the fear that comes in many forms. The fear that clouds my future, that resides in the unknown corners of a world I still haven’t fully explored, always has some place in my heart, but it will not conquer my spirit.

Who I desire to become is a dream that is possible to reach through thoughts and actions, all of which I can control. The greenery that blazes past my sprinting form has its own destiny, as do the leaves and the branches, the rocks and the others that reside in this forest. Our lives will all intertwine and create an unpredictable river of pure life that is both exhilarating and daunting to witness. I cannot control their actions, but it is my choice whether to be pushed by the river or trek my own path along it.

I choose to learn, to grow, to run with wild abandon, the wind flowing across my body with a burst of cool air, speeding me forward. The thing is, I don’t know whether I will reach my desired outcome or if I will become the full and true version of myself I was born to be.

A clearing arrives in front of me, and I stop to admire its beauty. In its center lies a cool, still expanse of water surrounded by many sturdy trees. The stars twinkle above, and the moon is reflected in the surface of that still pond. I stop to take a drink, savoring the refreshing liquid as it cascades down my throat.

No, I may never reach the end of this journey, but that’s not really the point, is it? My effort is what matters, the desire I have in my heart to be good, strong, powerful, purposeful, and helpful. I realize that I am already worthy, that I have been since the moment I was born. And the choices I make to do good and continue this fight are what make me the being I was destined to be.

Taking one last fleeting glance at the smiling light above and the comforting clearing that gave me strength, I move forward once more, sure that after I continue to run and fall and get back up, there will be another comforting rest ahead, and I will journey on once more into the never-ending night with a smile on my face and in my heart.

He stood there silently in the shadows, watching me. The light that drifted through the break between buildings behind him just missed his form as he walked forward. It cast an ethereal glow that seemed to surround his body, yet his features were still cloaked in darkness.

He was dressed in all grey; a bowler hat was perched atop his head and his suit was finely tailored, yet partially obscured by the long, sweeping coat he wore. The man doffed his hat in greeting.

I answered, “Hello.” Though but a whisper, my words echoed in the air of the deserted street. I could see my breath in front of me, like puffs of smoke on a cold winter night.

This place was unnaturally cold for this time of year, and the man brought with him a kind of warmth that I hadn’t anticipated.

We inched closer to one another, uneager to be overheard by any hidden ears.

He spoke in an unrecognizable tongue, swift and precise.

“I don’t understand,” I replied truthfully.

He looked into my eyes for a moment, unfazed by my confusion. Then, gently, he placed his right hand upon my forehead.

“Can you understand me now?” His voice rang in my head, completely clear and rather amused. It sounded as though he were talking to me underwater.

“Where are we?” I asked, for we were now not surrounded by dark, dull granite, but a swirl of color. Blues and purples whirled all around us in a gentle dance, and we were the only two solid beings in this strange new place.

“It is the pocket realm,” he explained. “It allows us to speak without difficulty. Though, I must impress upon you the urgency of our meeting. Our bodies may seem to be in this other dimension, but they are, in actuality, still standing on that dank, deserted street of moments ago. We are both in immediate danger and must move swiftly to avoid capture, so I will be brisk.”

I nodded, all trace of curiosity extinguished at his gentle reminder of the danger we were facing.

“I know the location of Terra Falls,” the man said.

“I’ve heard the rumors,” I replied briskly. “But, how can you be sure?”

“It was an accident. I was following one of our enemies, and it led me right to her. There was a whole mass of creatures just like it below the mountain. The place was cold as death. I think they could sense her magic, but didn’t realize what it truly meant. That’s why they were congregating there.”

“Did you speak with her?” I asked.

A sudden noise like a strangled bird reverberated through the air. My companion and I both looked around, alarmed.

“I didn’t get the chance,” he said, speaking with haste now. “But I saw her, high above in the mountain. I tried to reach her, but my way was blocked by a number of enchantments. In any sense, it would’ve been too much of a risk to try anything with the monsters so near; my concealment charms were wearing out.”

“I’ve heard she’s been up there for years, avoiding the war at all costs after what happened to her brother. I don’t believe it. The way she was during the beginning of the war, with her brains and her power and her bravery, she wouldn’t just give in. If anything, it’d give her more of a drive to stop this once and for all,” I insisted.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” the man replied. “She’s been hiding for years, hasn’t come out of her self-imposed seclusion at all to help us. Talking to her might not even make a difference.”

“Then, why did you tell me?” I asked.

“Because, she’s our only chance.”

A loud, bone-chilling shriek cut through the air after these words, stirring us from our argument.

I felt his hand being removed from my forehead, and blinked as the bright blues and purples the had previously surrounded us faded from my vision to be replaced by the increasing darkness of the now surrounded street.

“Come on,” he said. “They’ve found us.”

With my vision back to normal, I rushed ahead of him.

“Follow me,” I commanded.

My companion ran swiftly to my side, and we set off through the frozen, dark night into the imminent, unknowable future.

Waves of the ocean, colored glass,

The sky above, filled with soaring birds.

In the eyes of my best friend,

The hair of a stranger,

The soles of a runner that crunch the gravel.

In his voice, her weary smile,

The sound a dog makes as it howls for its lost owner.

A contrast to the blaring rays of the sunlight

That drifts through my window at dawn.

It cascades over the nighttime world,

Illuminating the stars and casting a wonderous glow

On the heavens above.

After the rain crashes down

And the sun comes out of hiding,

It is there, reflecting in the drops that span the sky,

A singular element of the miracle it creates with its brethren.

A knowable aspect of our world,

It evokes both sadness and joy.

Versatile, complex, simple, and elegant;

Solitary or a companion,

It is ingrained in us whether or not we may witness its beauty,

And we are all the better for it.

A stark silence engulfed the dimly lit theatre. Nothing moved, and yet, the feeling of anticipation lay thick in the air. Rows and rows of empty seats, all lined in soft, red velvet, stood waiting for the doors to open and the crowd to enter. It was almost time.

In the past, thousands of individuals had traversed this very room. If one were to look closely, they would witness fleeting images of a number of characters spanning centuries coming alive in this space. People from all places, beliefs, and customs were all gathered together for an experience they would never forget.

Tonight, however, was infinitely more significant than any other. It would be the night where boundaries would break, minds would warp, and challenges would be met.

The audience of that dark afternoon did not expect to witness the ingenious tragedy of this new masquerade as they filed into their seats. In hindsight, it is unclear to say if they were amazed or frightened. Maybe it was a little of both.

Regardless of their views, the show had no intention to cease its twisted mission. It had subjects to entrance and was not going to wait for permission.

This act, though new, was meticulously orchestrated so that there were no faults. The curtains would rise, and, though they wouldn’t know it at first, each person in those velvet lined seats would not be allowed escape.

Fire, acrobats, and all sorts of wonderous spectacles entranced the unassuming spectators. They assumed that this was the theatre’s true mission, to mystify and delight, but it was not. The miraculous goings-on onstage were simply distractions from the performers’ real aim.

These performers were sights to behold indeed. Dressed in outlandish costumes of bright and contrasting colors, their makeup matching their garb, they would eventually make their way off of the stage into the audience.

At first, the innocents would feel amazed at this interactive twist. Then, the screams would begin.

The first would echo through the closed off space, and the others would follow soon after, creating an unpracticed symphony of pure terror. A place which once felt full of possibility would transform into a dark coffin, constricting and suffocating each victim’s hopeful air.

The performers had to feed, and, urged on by the maddening energy of the theatre itself, their appetites were satisfied quite well indeed.

Rose woke from her dreamless slumber. The sun’s scorching rays forced her into the harsh reality of the day. Squinting, she slowly opened her eyes. She groaned. The light of the blazing sun reflected off of the sand surrounding her, providing no relief from the pounding headache from which she was currently suffering.

She sat up cautiously. Her body was sore from sleeping on the hard ground. According to the location on her phone, she was in Mexico. Rose’s eyes wandered aimlessly around the dull landscape as she attempted to get her bearings, both in her mind and in the real world. It was difficult for her to recall what had happened over the past few days. Judging by the fact that it felt like her brain was trying to box its way out of her skull, she’d obviously been drunk last night.

She looked to her left and noticed a road a few yards away. Though people must have passed by while she was lying on the ground, she wasn’t surprised that no one had tried to wake her because she was currently invisible.

Slowly, she stood up, trying her best not to tumble over as gravity took its hold. My powers, she thought. That’s why I came to Mexico. Rose did all she could to remember any other details of her excursion but failed in her attempt. It was as though her brain was full of an endless fog that was pervaded by the constant slamming of cymbals and drums.

She touched her face in exasperation, only to pull back quickly as she felt a jolt of harsh pain.

“Great,” she said, her voice croaky and her mouth dry. She’d gotten sunburn from laying in the desert for hours, and she needed water.

Before figuring out what she was doing here, Rose decided to first focus on getting her body back to near-working condition. She walked toward the road ahead, using her last ounce of energy for the journey to civilization.

Thankfully, after only a mile and a half, she found her way back to the motel she’d booked for her stay in Mexico (the information had been on her phone).

As soon as Rose arrived at her room, she rushed to the mini fridge. There, hidden behind the rotten remains of a half-eaten burrito, she found her solace. The bottled water tasted like heaven on her tongue, and she gulped it down until there wasn’t a drop left.

After quenching her thirst, she cleaned up and decided to go into town to get something for her hangover as well as a decent meal. She checked her hands. They were visible again. Good. She wouldn’t have to hide.

Rose made her way quickly through the store. While she was walking back to her car less than 5 minutes later, she saw something that made her stop in her tracks.

One of the cars in the parking lot had a sticker on its back windshield. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but something about it seemed familiar to her. Rose stared at it in confusion for a few moments before her stomach growled, reminding her of the food she was carrying. She decided to figure it out after she’d had her meal. Rose got into her car and drove off.

She reached a stoplight, and, as she waited for it to turn green, a maroon car rolled up next to her. In it, a group of teenagers were laughing and blasting their music. Rose popped the pills she’d grabbed in the store to relieve her headache and prayed that the light would turn green soon.

The song blasting from the crowded car changed, and Rose was instantly transported back in time.

Rose sat on a worn-out sofa in the middle of a large warehouse-turned-hangout space. Music was blasting from a radio set on the table, and Rose was nervous. She didn’t know anyone here, but according to what she’d read online, they all had the same problem she did.

“Turn that down, Raf. I can’t hear myself think,” the girl, Wanda, spoke to the slightly younger boy.

He lowered the volume, and all seven individuals gathered around, each sitting on their own bean bag chairs, the couch, or the sofa arms.

“So, new girl. What’s your story?” Heidi asked. She didn’t talk much, but was the most intimidating of the group. Her hair was jet black and styled in a pixie cut, and tattoos covered her arms.

Rose took a deep breath and began, thinking back to the day when her life first started spiraling past her control.

She’d gotten her powers unexpectedly a few weeks before the meeting. She’d just woken up, only to find that when she looked in the mirror, her reflection was nowhere to be found. Initially, Rose had tried to shove it off as some kind of tired haze, but after hours of walking past the reflective surfaces in her home and seeing nothing out of the corner of her eye coupled with the fact that as she was trying to cut tomatoes, her hands mysteriously disappeared, she realized that this wasn’t just her imagination playing tricks.

So, she’d taken to the internet in an attempt to find some sort of explanation about what she was experiencing. It took her nearly the whole day, but, finally, she came across a forum where people were describing experiences similar to her own. They all seemed to have different powers, but everyone agreed that their new abilities were impossible to control.

A sub-group took prominence in the forum. They insisted they were close to a solution. Rose was initially skeptical, but after talking with Beth, a 22-year-old who was afflicted with telekinesis, she agreed to meet up with the group in Mexico.

As Rose explained her story, everyone in the group listened, some nodding their heads in consolation. This was their struggle, too.

“There’s this rumor,” Beth began, “that it’s the military’s fault. They’ve been experimenting on unsuspecting people for years, trying to build the next superhuman.

My uncle’s close to someone who works with that sort of stuff and from what I’ve heard – and, I will admit, I’ve been sneaking around his office a bit, too – I’ve heard they’re targeting the younger generation next. That’s why Raf and Diana got their powers later than us. I guess it’s some kind of theory that the younger they start, the more time they’ll have for their powers to grow properly.

Anyway, it’s all highly illegal stuff. And they keep screwing up.”

“And, now, Beth thinks it’s a good idea to just go in there blind,” Wanda remarked, throwing Beth an exasperated look.

“I told you, we’re not going to the military,” Beth replied.

Then, to the entire group, she added, “There’s this base close by, and they say they can help us. It’s a bunch of the brains behind the operation who went rogue because they didn’t like what they were being told to do. I’ve looked into it, and I really think they can help.”

“I don’t know,” Raf said.

“Me either,” Diana agreed. She was the youngest of the group.

“How can we know we can really trust these people?” Adrianne asked. Not having said a word since Rose had arrived, she was surprised to hear them speak.

Beth huffed. “This is our only shot, people. And I, for one, am not just gonna sit around and do nothing when we have a chance to get our lives back to normal.”

Wanda and Heidi shook their heads. Raf, Diana, and Adrianne remained silent, still skeptical of Beth’s plan.

“Is no one going to go with me?” Beth asked.

There was a moment of silence, which was broken by Rose’s voice.

“I’ll go,” she said, standing up. “Beth’s right. I’m not just going to sit here and let this ruin the rest of my life.”

“Thank you! At least one of us has some sense,” Beth remarked.

Beth and Rose were set to leave the next day. With promises of returning knowledge (and, hopefully, a cure), they began their journey with the hope that their lives could finally return back to normal.

“I don’t know about this,” Rose said as they observed the base from afar. “It looks more like my grandma’s house than somewhere that can reverse the effects of a military experiment gone bad.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Beth assured. “Just trust me. Come on.”

Beth walked toward the building, leaving Rose with no choice but to follow.

An individual dressed in casual clothing greeted them at the door. Beth spoke to them quickly, and both women were ushered into the makeshift waiting room on the other side of the door.

Not long after, a woman in a bright white lab coat appeared from a side door.

“Follow me,” she spoke, and, with some hesitation on Rose’s part, they obeyed.

The woman led them through a labyrinth of tight, winding hallways until they reached an elevator. After a brief security check before squeezing into the small space, the elevator took them down to a much larger passage of tunnels. It seemed as though the house above served merely as a front for the actual operation.

Before reaching their destination, they were tried with a series of additional security checks and questions they had to answer to make sure they weren’t affiliated with the government. Each check increased Rose’s nervousness, and by the time they’d arrived at the lower levels, she was beginning to question her eagerness to follow through with this plan.

Rose and Beth were then led down another corridor with walls made of coarse rock. The corridor expanded out into a large, cavernous room, where they could see numerous people in lab coats doing various experiments.

“Doctor. The visitors,” the woman in the white coat alerted her co-worker.

A rather short man with a wisp of white hair on his head shuffled forward.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Interrogation Room 4A, I expect?”

“3B, actually,” the woman corrected.

“Right. Right. I must’ve mixed up the numbers again. 4B it is!”

He smiled dumbly for a moment as the woman stared at him.

“No, 3B,” he said quickly. “Yes, I know. I was just joking. Only joking.” Rose wasn’t sure he was telling the truth.

The woman rolled her eyes and walked past the doctor.

“Follow,” she said with her back to the visitors, and they rushed to catch up.

She led them to a separate area of the large room, where a group of five surveyed the newcomers with interest.

“These are you attendants,” she said to Rose and Beth. “They will monitor and analyze the condition of your powers before you speak with the leaders of this operation.”

After a few procedural tests coupled with a bunch of scribbling on notepads, the woman reappeared and led them to another subset of the underground cavern.

“In here.” She opened a steel door to a much smaller room. Behind a metal table sat four chairs. Three feet from the table were two lone chairs that sat side by side.

“Sit,” she said as she took her place behind the table.

Rose and Beth sat down.

Three other doctors arrived soon after, taking their places behind the table.

Rose felt oddly exposed as they stared at her and kept fidgeting in her seat. Beth seemed nervous as well, though she hid her anxiety with an emotionless expression.

“You’re here because you want to be fixed, normal again,” the woman who’d led them into the room spoke. “The government has taken control of your lives and you wish to gain that control back. We can provide the answer to your troubles.”

The woman stood up. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Doctor S. I run this operation. These are my consultants.” She gestured to the three individuals who sat next to her.

“I’m sure you know how fickle your powers are, how unpredictable,” she continued. “We can’t change that. We can, however, eliminate the problem altogether. This is the only coarse of action. Otherwise, you’ll simply wither away to nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose interrupted. “What do you mean ‘wither away to nothing’?”

Doctor S fixed Rose with a sickening smile. “You’ll die. The unpredictable effects of your powers will worsen until your atoms will no longer be able to contain the abnormality, and you will be killed by its intensity. It will be a painful and merciless death.”

Rose and Beth were stunned into silence.

“But there is a solution, remember?” Doctor S said casually, as if she had not just warned them about their imminent, painful deaths.

“Unfortunately, one caveat exists. Though our previous operations have been successful, we only have enough resources for one more rejuvenation. Our key ingredient for this reversal was stolen from the government’s resources, and, I’m afraid, to get more of it will be impossible, as their security measures have increased tenfold since our severance.”

“So, only one of us can be cured?” Beth asked.

“Precisely,” Doctor S agreed.

“Beth—” Rose began.

“I’ll let you discuss it further,” Doctor S said. The four doctors left the room, leaving Beth and Rose standing in the small space, alone.

“So, what are we gonna do? We have to tell the others,” Rose reasoned.

Beth shook her head. “There’s on time. If we leave, they’ll give the cure to someone else. Then, none of us will have a chance.”

“This isn’t fair,” Rose said.

She thought for a moment.

“No,” she said finally. “I’m not gonna do it. It’s all of us or none of us.”

Beth stared at her companion for a moment, thinking it over. “You’re right. This isn’t fair. We have to make the right choice.”

Doctor S was surprised to find out that neither of the women were going to go through with the cure. This had never happened before. Nevertheless, she allowed the visitors to stay the night before heading back when the sun rose.

Rose woke up early the next morning. Feeling slightly off, she realized that she was invisible again. Then, she remembered everything that had transpired the night before. Her heart dropped. The one hope she’d had of returning to her old life had been crushed like a fine pearl to useless powder.

No, she decided. She wasn’t going to let this be the end. There had to be a way to get what they needed to cure not just her, but everyone forcibly afflicted with their superhuman conditions.

She strode to the door, opening it with a flourish. She had to find Beth and come up with a plan.

Rose had been walking for only a minute and a half when she ran into one of the doctors.

“Ah, you’re up. Doctor S sent me to find you. Right this way.”

Rose nodded and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Uh, you’re leaving. Remember? This place is pretty large, so she thought it would be best if I saw you out.”

“Change of plans,” Rose countered. “I need to find Beth. I’m not giving up that easily.”

The doctor looked at her, confused. “Beth . . . I think it’s best if I just see you out. Follow me.”

“No. Where’s Beth?” Rose asked.

“She’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yes, uh, she received the procedure and left early this morning.” The doctor looked slightly intimidated by Rose’s stern gaze.

“She—no. We decided not to. We promised each other . . .” Rose’s head was spinning. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

“Ma’am, you need to leave now.” A guard attempted to usher her toward the exit by grabbing her arm.

“Let go of me.” Rose yanked her arm out of the guard’s grip. “There’s got to be another way. You can’t just kick me out.”

The doctor looked at her sadly. “You’re a hopeless case, Rose. Just accept it. It will make it easier.”

Two of the guards lifted Rose up, but she continued to fight.

“Taze her,” a calm voice spoke, and Rose’s world faded into darkness.

Rose woke up on the ground. The midday sun caused her to squint, and she realized that she was lying by the road that led to her motel.

How could Beth betray her like that? Rose took out her phone and dialed Beth’s number one, two, three times before giving up. The last sliver of hope she’d had, that maybe this was all just one big misunderstanding, was gone. Her supposed friend had betrayed her, and she had no good news to bring back to the people who were counting on her to save them.

Rose walked up to the motel and was surprised to see that her car was there; the last time she drove it was when she went to meet Beth and her group.

She didn’t even want to figure out how it had gotten there. It didn’t matter, in any case. Her whole life was a mess. She didn’t know who she could trust and she was sure she was going to die soon.

Rose gazed down at her hands. They flickered back to visibility. She got into her car and drove. She didn’t know where she was going, but she needed some soft of relief from how screwed up her life had become.

Driving by a bar, she decided that this was as good of a place as any to let go of her troubles, and steered into the parking lot.

Rose sat down in a shadowy corner of the bar, less she attract attention by suddenly turning invisible again. Judging by the current clientele, no one would have noticed, be she wanted to be sure that no one would bother her. Now, all she had was one goal and one goal only: to drink as much as she possibly could.

The loud honk of a horn startled Rose out of her reverie, and she jumped. The group off teenagers next to her laughed as they sped off. Her foot hit the gas pedal, and she continued the drive back to her motel.

Everything made sense now, but what was she going to do?

Rose knew one thing. The symbol on that car at the gas station was the logo from the base that had promised a cure. Maybe she could see who that car belonged to and find a way to get back to herself again.

In her current sober state, Rose’s mind was now overrun with possibilities. Now, she was determined to do everything in her power to get the justice that she and everyone touched by the government’s plan deserved.

It was the only thing that mattered to me. This box, covered in glittering jewels of captivating colors, held a family heirloom which was also one of the most powerful tools in existence. It had been passed down through generations, and each member of my family had guarded the secret of its location with their lives. They all possessed the restraint needed to guard such an item, our mission being to protect it, but never use it. I was the only one to let my family down.

I remember once, when I was a little boy, I caught a glimpse of the shimmering box in my mother’s closet. I asked her what it was, but she told me to put it out of my mind. Naturally, as children are wont to do, I ignored her warning.

I found my chance one Friday night. My mom was out with her friends, and my babysitter lay fast asleep on the couch. I snuck into my mother’s room as quietly as possible. Her closet door opened with a creak, and there it was, shimmering in the moonlight, tempting me toward its hidden mysteries.

Climbing up on the shelves, I pulled the box down. It was odd, but, regardless of where I moved in the dimly lit room, the box continued to glow as if some magical light source resided within. Eager to see what was inside, I attempted, with shaky hands, to pry open the lid, when—

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I looked up, frightened and embarrassed at being caught. My mom had come home early and found me here. She took the box from me and replaced it back on the highest shelf, covering it with a graying blanket. She made me promise to never go looking for the box again. Hearing the worry in her voice as she said this, I reluctantly agreed.

Years later, I’d finally been granted the honor of having this heirloom in my possession. Before she died, my mother told me that I was to let no harm come to what was inside and never let anyone possess the item under any circumstances. Most importantly of all, I was to never open the box.

Despite her warnings, I wasn’t worried. No harm seemed to come to my mom when she’d been in possession of the item, and I’d never heard any stories of my other relatives being in trouble either. So, I simply kept it safe, hidden away in the recesses of my home. I preferred my solitude, so there was never really any threat of anyone finding out about the item.

The only thing I had to worry about was myself. Even before I was aware of its immense power, I was drawn to this item. Every day, I had to remind myself of my mother’s warning that only disaster could come from releasing the power within the sealed vessel.

Still, some nights I would wander to its hiding place and gaze at the glittering stones that decorated the outside of the container. These nights, I’d have strange dreams about it calling to me. I wasn’t sure if I was the only one in my family to have these dreams. My mother and I never spoke much about the box, and when we did, it was brief. There was so much I should have asked her before she passed away, but time had been limited, and all thoughts other than her wellbeing had flown out of the window as soon as she’d gotten sick.

After her passing, I’d begun to hold the box whenever my grief started to overwhelm me. Somehow, it reminded me of her. If I closed my eyes while I held it, I could almost hear the faint whisper of a song she would sing to me when I was a child. It gave me more comfort than anything else in my life, and, though she warned me to keep it far away and out of sight, it was the only thing I could hold on to. It was what brought me closer to her even though she was gone.

In a night of restless slumber, I woke up to find a blinding light seeping through the floorboards. Prying one of them loose, I revealed the box, which was shaking and glowing more than it ever had before. Its warmth almost burned my hands as I picked it up, but still, I couldn’t let it go. Tonight was the anniversary of my mother’s death, and I needed something to focus on other than my sorrow.

Like all of those years ago, I attempted to pry open the lid with shaking hands. This time, there was no one to stop me, and I succeeded in my endeavor. I looked down at the item in awe. It was even more amazing than I could have ever imagined.

My reverie was cut short by a knock on the door. Startled, I quickly replaced the lid and shoved the box back into the floor. In my haste, the floor board was left haphazardly on the ground, barely covering the fading glow from below.

Opening the door, I greeted the three strangers. The two in the front explained to me that they were from the FBI and had arrived in lieu of some disturbances that had been called in from around the area. The woman who lingered behind them observed me and my home, never making a sound. All three were quite confident and allowed themselves into my home without question.

“Are you aware of the 17 lightning strikes that just occurred in your area?” one of the FBI agents asked. All three were looking around my apartment with interest.

“Um, no,” I replied, truthfully.

“And the swirling clouds in the sky, the colors? Some described it as resembling the auroras,” the other agent added.

“Did it? Well, no. I didn’t see that. It’s quite odd, though. Isn’t it?” I was never good with the authorities.

All three simply stared at me, and it was in that moment that I knew something was terribly wrong.

“Where is it?” the first agent asked.

“What?” I replied.

“Don’t play games. We know you have it,” the second agent added. She and her companions revealed what looked to be weapons resembling whips made out of lightning.

“You must be really stupid,” she remarked as she stalked toward me. “Your family has been protecting it for generations and, finally, you give us its exact location. Thanks for that, by the way. If I cared, my gratitude might make it difficult to kill you. Too bad; I don’t.”

I’d been slowly backing away all of this time, and at her words, I saw my moment. I sprinted toward my room, knowing that if I didn’t reach the box first, then they would.

I was there in seconds. Picking up the box, I noticed it had begun to glow brighter once more.

“Give it. We’re going to kill you either way,” the first agent demanded. All three reached my room just seconds after I’d fled.

My gaze flicked down to the box in my hands and back to my enemies who blocked my every chance of escape. I smiled, half-amused and half-delirious. Maybe my plan was crazy, but it was the only one I had.

“NO!” “DON’T!” the two “agents” said at the same time, but it was too late.

I grasped the glowing object in my hands, letting the box drop to the floor, and hoped that this would get me out of the mess I’d created for myself.

I screamed as a white-hot pain coursed through every fiber of my being. My senses raced into overdrive as a blinding light shut everything else from view, and I felt no more.

The fake FBI agents looked around at the shattered remains of the home. They alone were unharmed, having used their emergency shields in the blast. Their adversary was nowhere to be found, and all that was left of the treasure they so coveted was scattered bits of the box, which no longer shone with any power at all.

It’s always the same story, isn’t it? Generations rise and fall in a constant and never-ending wave of triumph and tragedy. Heroes and villains alike meet their greatest heights, and, eventually, their stories, too, must end. But what is the purpose of it all? Where do I fit into the story? Am I the hero or the villain? Or, am I something in between?

If you were to ask a passerby, they would say they’ve never known me. I’d be just another face to them, not good, not bad, not anything. But if you were to ask the ones who knew me, they would tell an entirely different story. To some, I would be the hero, the friend, the confidant. To others, I would be the selfish one, the coward, the failure.

What is the truth of me, you may ask? I don’t know myself. Am I an amalgam of all others’ impressions? Am I how I see myself to be? Am I something entirely different, neither good nor bad, but just simply another fleeting existence in the whirlpool of endless question?

It’s a fool’s errand to strive to know my purpose. It’s something I must choose to believe and to try my very best to fulfill. Or, it was. . .

You see, my life is ending now. All of my choices leading up to this moment have led me here. I don’t know if I believe in fate, but I feel that this is exactly where I was supposed to end up. It’s not a perfect ending, but it’s mine, and I am grateful for the time I’ve spent on this earth.

Now, I feel the icy wind biting my face as a fall. It numbs my entire body, my entire soul. The mountain peaks flash past in smeared colors of white and gray, and I know this will be final.

It was always going to end up this way. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon—

My chest tightens as I struggle to breathe. Words and sounds rush by me in a flurry of motion, but I’m unable make sense of either. The endless litany of noise causes me to feel as if I am being compacted, pushed, and pulled, until all that’s left are a few broken pieces of myself scattered here and there on the solid floor. It takes all of my strength to hold on. I curl up with my knees close to my chest, hugging myself tight. I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my eardrums, and all I want is to be anywhere but here.

Taking a deep breath, I observe my surroundings. Everything is still. My desk and piano lay dormant, awaiting a new surge of creative energy. There’s a wall of bookcases directly ahead. Stained in dark wood, they carefully display organized rows of the stories I’ve collected throughout the years.

A sudden sense of calm rushes over me as I take in the sight. Each novel waves a gentle hello, beaconing me to delve into the comforting escape they offer. All bring me joy, though each contains vastly different worlds and personalities. The characters in these stories are my friends. In the hours we’ve spent together, I’ve come to see them as more real than the strangers I observe outside of my window. We’ve laughed and cried, been anxious and excited, amazed and brave together. The adventures we’ve experienced have shaped how I view and treat the world. They are the foundation upon which I am based.

Now, I know what I need. Reaching carefully toward my faded copy of the particular novel that gives me more joy than anything, I hold it close, cherishing the familiar feeling of anticipation one experiences before embarking on a magical journey. Its corners are worn, some pages torn, and some of the letters are beginning to fade, but it’s just as beautiful as the day I first held it in my hands.

I huddle under the covers, careful not to bend the pages of the book to which I owe my happiness. The lights, save a small lamp I use for this very purpose, grow dim around me, and I’m finally able to breathe. Opening the cover, I embark on my journey into this familiar and fantastical escape, feeling an instant sense of relief as this story reminds me that everything will be alright.

They lie there, each on a bed, never moving.

Time passes them by in brief flashes,

But their minds are on another plane.

It’s eerie in these quarters,

Where noise and motion are obsolete.

The grey walls surround the bodies

And create a feeling of being packed under the dirt.

Any visitor would feel as if they are suffocating;

The thinning air neither affects nor stirs the silent figures.

In a world of constant motion and light,

Filled with joy and laughter, hope and energy,

This silent box is full of discomfort;

For even in our presumed silent quarters,

A noise perpetuates through the air:

A clock ticking, a fan whirring, children playing outside.

Here, all senses are dulled.

They do not hear. They do not see.

They do not hope or wish or dream,

And that is the worst of it all.

But maybe they find peace in the silence.

No disturbance can harm them there.