Emperor Jim Lamb was an intelligent, careful, and patient man. Yesterday, complete strangers wearing even stranger clothing had shown up out of nowhere inside his palace. They didn’t seem like warriors or spies. "So how did they bypass all of his guards", he thought. Maybe there was a hole in the palace’s security that he was unaware of and the rebels knew it? Then again, if the rebels knew that there was a hole in his security and also knew that he was unaware of said hole, surely he would be dead right now. So they couldn’t be with the rebellion. To make matters even weirder, one of the strangers had spoken about traveling back through time. Were they talking nonsense or was time travel actually possible? Was it really possible that they were from the future? The Emperor wasn’t sure. If what they say is true, then his army could travel back in time to the day Fort Prose was taken over and crush the rebellion before it ever got started. This war would have never happened. He then decided that he needed to keep a close eye on these strangers. So instead of kicking them out, he let them spend the night in his palace and change into less strange attire. His guards watching their every move, without their knowledge of course.

         The Emperor had seen the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. The strangers had called her Ms.Vyxyn. Emperor Lamb was single and the empire was in desperate need of an empress. She would fulfill the role wonderfully. Ms. Vyxyn was not only beautiful but young. After this war was over and he had won, the emperor would need heirs to his throne. She was capable of delivering many heirs. “Ms. Vyxyn, you will be mine.”, thought the Emperor imaging that gorgeous body all hot and sweaty under him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

         At the crack of Dawn, Andy Betz, his fiancee Esther Flowers, Mnezz and Mtrubenfire had left General Chambers's campsite. General Jumotki would be attacking later today and they needed to be as close to entering Fort Prose as possible. General Chambers had also awakened his troops at the crack of dawn to prepare for the coming battle. If he could stop General Jumotki’s army, then the revolution would gain access to the Mills River, which leads to the open seas. The revolution would have expanded their supply lines, and cut off one of the many supply lines available to the empire. General Chambers was glad the strangers had arrived last night. He needed as many people as possible in the coming battle. He just hoped they knew how to fight. His troops had got them out of that ridiculous clothing and had them put on attire more suited for combat. This battle would be hard to win, but he was ready to fight.

                      The Day After the Contest (Present Day)

         Yesterday the superintendent, the principal, the vice principal, and several teachers and students went missing from Prose High. However, one of the adults that went missing didn’t work at Prose High at all. That adult was Harry Situation, who owned the biggest newspaper in the country. Everyone was at Prose High for the tenth annual playwright writing contest, which had taken place in the school’s auditorium after school that day. Something must have gone wrong. “How do so many people just disappear?”, thought the Chief of the Prose Police Department Andrew Regin. Sheriff Brittney Sowards had decided to find the surveillance tape from the auditorium. When they watched the tape, they saw everything up to and including the three flashes of light. After the third flash, everyone had vanished. It didn’t make sense.“Where could they have gone?”, said Sheriff Brittney Sowards to Chief Regin. “I don’t know, but with one of the missing persons being Harry Situation it won’t be long before this becomes a national story. Journalists from all over the country are going to want to ask us questions about this and we won’t have many answers. Conspiracy theorist are gonna have a field day with this one.”, said Chief Regin. “I hate to say it, but you are absolutely right about this one.”, said the sheriff.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

503 Years Earlier……….

Only the sound of metal against metal breaks the silence of the dark Dragon Forest. The wind picks up speed and becomes heavy. The temperature of the forest is dropping like a stone. Yet two spies are are fighting each other. The best spy of the Lambian Empire and the best spy of Revolution as a matter of fact. Fauxhero swings his sword at Sandflea68. She dodges. Sandflea68 tries to stab him in the chest and misses. This sword fight has been going on for almost an hour. Fauxhero starts to realize that those women he saw earlier has probably reached General Paul D. Chambers and warned him about the surprise attack. He had failed in his effort to stop them. Besides, Sandflea68 was not letting up and he would be no good to the empire by being dead, which he might soon be from fighting this woman. Fauxhero swings again at Sandflea68, but when she goes to dodge he then kicks her. As Sandflea68 is getting back up from the ground, he runs to his horse and mounts it. “Until next time, Sandflea68”, he says before taking off for the Emperor’s Palace. Emperor Lamb would want to see him. “I can’t believe that woman forced me to run, I need to find a way to take care of her.”, Fauxhero thinks to himself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Andy Betz had written the Twain Manifesto, a powerful pamphlet about the need for revolution. History would later say that he wrote the Twain Constitution as well. Right now though, he was with General Paul D. Chambers’s army and so was his fiancee Esther Flowers. He and Esther had realized they were best helpful to the revolution by being at Fort Prose, the Twain Revolutionary Army’s Headquarters. Mnezz and Mtrubenfire entered Andy and Esther’s tent. “Hello sir”, said Mtrubenfire and Mnezz. “We are here to get you to safety. When General Jumotki makes his move you and Esther need to be long gone” whispered Mnezz “We will all leave at dawn for Fort Prose.”, said Esther. They all nodded their head in agreement. Once Mnezz and Mtrubenfire left their tent, Esther turned to Andy. “ Do you think that Winterreign will be happy to see us, after....”, Esther trails off. “I don’t know, but we are about to find out.”, said Andy.

Here's the link for the Audio. 

https://app.box.com/s/o1x7o1a5zzo8epnwbtt7tpbixzeqztmb

This emotion

It is new to me

It is something

I never experienced before

Something

I never felt before

They call it love??

This foreign emotion

That I feel

It is strange

It is so very strange

When I’m with you

This strange emotion

It keeps making itself known

I can’t help,

but to express it

At first it felt weird

It felt awkward

Like something one should

Should never ever feel

But now

Now it feels wonderful

This emotion

It grows deeper

with every passing day

Is

Is that normal?

It feels normal

Weird

Is this

Is this why people love, love?

Is why people

People constantly write about it?

Is this why people

People want to feel it?

Of all the emotions

that I have ever felt

This is the most strange

This is the most powerful

This is the most painful

Yet it is the most beautiful

This emotion

Does it ever go away?

       My life was easier in 1717, but that damn storm took everything I ever held dear. The world became foreign, hostile and cruel. It had no place for a man thrown through time.

       I was born in Hittisleigh, a small run down town in Devonshire, England. 1689 was known for its cold beginning, and one January night was colder than the rest. Winds were wild outside as my mother screamed in pain, my father at her side. My two older brothers sat in the other room, waiting to be called upon to meet me. When I was finally delivered, my mother wept as she held me. Her name was Elizabeth, my father called Stephen. A single look at my frail body wrapped in wool and my parents chose the name that would one day be placed on my tombstone. From then on, I was named Samuel Bellamy.

       At first it seemed like life would continue in a positive way, but not long after my birth, my mother became ill. Her body could no longer produce milk for me, her arms becoming too weak to carry me. Eventually, her heart gave out and she passed in her sleep. After that, my father turned to whiskey and rum to subdue his emotions. My eldest brother Eric, no older than ten at the time, had to take on a lot more responsibilities than any child should be asked of. My father was in no shape to raise me, so Eric did it instead.

       He would milk the neighbor's Jersey cow and pour it into a leather pouch, putting a slit in the bottom and cover it with linen to create a barrier for my tiny lips to wrap around. He dressed me in his old clothes, too large for my infant body but still better than shivering through the nights with nothing. My other brother, Adam, was merely two years older than myself but still helped out as best he could. He would talk to the cow about how big I was getting, how helpful the cow was being after mommy had gone to a better place. He even held me a couple times while I drank, telling me that he would protect me from anything evil. At least, that were the stories told to me.

       My first memory was the summer of 1693 after Eric met a pretty girl named Amanda who was 15, a year older than him, a few towns over. He and our father were talking about marriage, and of course our father disapproved. He had a bottle of whiskey in his left hand, his right holding Eric’s shoulder either for support or to keep him from walking away. With a swig of his drink, our father looked straight into Eric’s eyes while the eldest stared right back.

       “You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’ll let you marry.” His breath must have smelt like liquor when he spoke, for when he did, Eric’s face convulsed in visible disgust. He brushed his father’s hand off his shoulder before responding, a thing we rarely did while our father was drunk.

       After clearing his throat, he once again met his father’s gaze. “It’s my life, you can’t control it.” A flash of movement happened and our father’s hands were gripping Eric’s collar hard, tightening it around his neck in an uncomfortable way. I felt the urge to intervene, but I knew I would merely get hurt in the process. With fear in my body, I just watched the fight take its course.

      Through clenched teeth, our father gave his reply; “I helped bring you into this world, don’t make me take you back out.” He watched Eric very closely, expecting a very specific response from his eldest son.

       “But-” Another flash and Eric was pinned up against the room wall, his pain shown through his expressions as our father held him there firmly.

       The limited control our father had over his drunken anger finally stopped, and his voice became a thunder directed toward Eric’s face a mere inches away from his. “Do I make myself clear boy?”

       “Yes sir.” Eric’s mumble was barely audible, but it was enough for our father to restrain himself and back away, releasing Eric from the wall. Eric felt his father’s grasp disappear from the collar of his shirt, and corrected the shirt’s position on his body before walking away. He strode with granite features masking his face, a brisk movement in his steps as he went to his room. From then on, our eldest brother rarely spoke to our father. When he did, it was always a “Yes sir,” or a “Right away, sir.” It was like the flame within Eric had been snuffed out, but in reality the fight had ignited an inferno.

       A month after the fight, I had awoken in the middle of the night to the sounds of glass smashing and wood splintering. Wiping my eyes from sleep, I descended the steps of our home to find Adam at the base, staring at our father in disbelief. He had thrown bottles of whiskey around the room, shattering them against the walls and floor. The table that used to sit next to a window was now mere planks of scattered wood throughout the entire house. In the middle of the entire mess sat our father on his knees, a single bottle of rum in his hands, still intact. Beside him laid a perfect piece of parchment, somehow unharmed by the destruction our father had caused. Taking a few steps closer, I noticed it was a letter. A letter addressed to me. Adam must have noticed too, for he crossed towards it through the sea of broken glass lying upon the floor. While wincing in pain, he leaned over and picked up the letter, adamant about not disturbing our father. Once back beside me, he placed the letter in my hands and went to his room, biting back screams of pain with every step he took. For a second I just stared at the letter, wondering what it had said.

       Then my legs began to work again, and I walked towards my room in a sluggish manner. Once on my bed, I scanned the parchment for anything I could make out. Eric, like he did with my other brother when Adam was four, was teaching me how to read. Sadly, I had only learned the alphabet and a few basic words. On the page I saw my name, Samuel Bellamy, written at the top. I could also make out a few scattered words like had to go and goodbye. Frustrated with how little I knew, I decided to hide the letter until I could read better. I removed a board in my bedroom floor that was loose from age. Inside, a small space could be reached. I folded the letter with timidness before placing it within the floor, then replaced the board back to its original position. I told myself I would return to the letter when I could, but for now its mysteries were left alone.

       I could no longer feel the beckoning of sleep. Instead, I dressed myself and went down to Adam’s room. He was sitting on his bed wrapping his foot in linen, the glass that was once piercing his skin now on the floor speckled with blood. “I can’t sleep,” I told him as he looked up at me, noticing the awareness in my face. He nodded once and got dressed, then we both left our home through his window. We traveled down the street to the river, oil lamp posts flickering as they illuminated the cobble streets. The moon and stars shone above us, a cloudless night filled with a soft mid-summer breeze. The calm warmth lowered my alertness, and soon we were lying next to the river, looking at the moon through the ripples of water made by the fish under the surface.

       “I want to see the world Samuel,” Adam said as he turned to me, a look of excitement and the hint of an inferno that was found in Eric. “I want to sail the ocean and be a captain. That’s my dream.”

       I looked at him, trying to think of a good response for my older brother. “Will you take me?” I smiled as he laughed at me, his eyes closing and his feet kicking the ground lightly.

       “Yeah, you can come along. I’m captain though.” he said with a small grin.

       “Promise?” I looked at him, the seriousness and hope in my face clear for him to see. He sat up, looked me in the eyes, and swore an oath to me that our dream would one day come true.

       “I promise, Sam.”

                                                    To Be Continued...

Title: The Prince of Pirates

Genre: Historical Fiction, Science Fiction

Age range: 16 - 45

Target audience: North America, Central America, Europe

Word count: 1111

Author's name: Jefferson House

Synopsis: "My life was easier in 1717, but that damn storm took everything I ever held dear. The world became foreign, hostile and cruel. It had no place for a man thrown through time." After losing his mother at birth, Samuel Bellamy is set on a path in his life that no one could predict. Filled with loss, blame, and a beloved to return to, Samuel must face the test of time in order to return home.

         After the green flash, I found myself in a crowded town square. The people were wearing strange clothes. With me were Fame Writer, Monk, Harry Situation, Braskii, Vice Principal Soul Hearts, Ms.Bunny and Superintendent Samantha Fowler. “Where are we?”, said Fame Writer. “More like when are we?”, said Braskii after noticing the strange clothing. “It’s like we’ve traveled back in time, I said. “I think your right, Andrometa,” said Harry Situation looking at me. “Pssst, over here”, said a womanly voice. We all turned around. The voice belonged to a brown haired woman wearing a hat. “Follow me, if you want to live”, she said. Since we didn’t know where we were, we hesitantly followed her. She leads us to what looked like a library and took us to the basement. Then she introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Northern Siren. My sister, Redwine27, will be here shortly. I felt a disturbance. A cosmic shift. You guys aren't from around here are you?”, she asked. We all shook our head no. “I and my sister are spies of the revolution. A number of people associated with the Empire stop at this Library to get books they think will help them win the war. Sometimes I and my sister overhear their conversations. We then report it to ALifeWitArt. She then reports it to Sandflea68, The Director of Intelligence.”, she said. “Why are you telling us this?”, Samantha Fowler asked. “Because I can trust you,” she said. “What war? What revolution?”, I asked. “Five years ago, James M. Byers, Andy Betz, Esther Flowers, General Paul D. Chambers, and Phynne Belle gathered an army and attacked a military compound called Fort Prose. They succeed in taking over the compound. They then declared war against the Emperor. After word got out about their success, it sparked the flames of revolution.” she said. “The Revolutionary War”, Ms. Bunny said. "Looks like Andrometa’s hunch was right, we’ve travel to the past”, said Soul Hearts.

         Wait, did she say Fort Prose?”, asked Monk. “Yes, I did,” said Northern Siren. “Before Prose was a city, it was a military compound. It’s the birthplace of the Revolution.” I tell him. “Oh”, said Monk.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

         In another dimension, there lies a bell tower. Inside the bell tower, there were hundreds of clocks, each tracking the time of different places in different dimensions. Humans like to call the guardian of the bell tower Father Time. There was just one problem with that. Father Time was a girl and her name was Chained-In Shadow. Chained-In Shadow felt a great disturbance, a cosmic shift. She frowned. "Someone has been messing with time”, she said. 

Earlier in Prose Universe….

“Oh no, it’s Fauxhero!”, said Mnezz. Fauxhero was a well-known spy of Emperor Lamb. “He must be here to stop us”, said Mtrubenfire. “Girls, go ahead I’m gonna take care of Fauxhero and his men. General Chambers must be warned in time.”, I said. I stop my horse and watched as their bodies quickly become smaller in the distance. I prepare for battle and ready my sword and shield.

Now…

I see Fauxhero and his men approaching me. There are six in total. I make my horse charge at them. My blue eyed brown horse quickly moving through the tall grass of the Dragon Forest. At first, Fauxhero and his men are surprised. A woman confidently charging at men with sword and shield in hand ready for battle. It’s just not something you see every day. It doesn’t take long for Fauxhero and his men to shake off the surprise and charge at me. Three of the men start to fire arrows from their bows at me while riding their horse. I jump several feet into the air, my horse stops running since I’m no longer on it. I land on the back of one of the men with a bow and arrow's horse. I immediately pierce his chest with my sword killing him instantly. He falls off the horse and I take the reins. The other two men with bows and arrows tried to trap me. One of them rides his horse to the left of me and the other to the right of me. They prepare their bow and arrows. They fire towards the center at me. I lean back and swing around the horse’s neck and re-mount myself on the horse. While I was swinging around the horse’s neck, the arrows flew past and hit the other guy with the bow and arrow. In other words, they missed me, hit each other, and both died instantly. Three down. Three to go.

At this point, Fauxhero was angry. Sandflea68 had taken down three of his best men with what seemed like ease. This was no ordinary woman. It was said Sandflea68 was the best spy the revolution had on their side. Now he believed it. Fauxhero watched as his last two men charged into battle against her and fail, ultimately suffering the same fate as the others. “So you’re the best spy the revolution has on their side. Let’s see how good you really are. Let’s see what you're made of. ”, Fauxhero said to Sandflea68. He then got off his horse and presented his sword and shield. Not one to back down a fight Sandflea68 got off her horse and did the same. They then charged toward each other. The battle of Fauxhero and Sandflea68 had begun. The best spy of the revolution versus the best spy of the empire.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

503 Years Later (Present Day)...............

         The school’s cafeteria was huge. Everyone in the school could comfortably sit in it. For the record that’s about 5,000 people. With it being half past noon most of the students in the school were eating lunch. Since today was Friday, mystery meat was being served. No one knew what was in the mystery meat and no one asked. We were all too afraid to find out the answer. Grateful that ignorance was bliss, we sucked it up and eat the mystery meat. It wasn’t terrible, but it didn’t taste all that great either. It was tolerable. Just tolerable enough to eat and at this school that is all that mattered. I, of course, was in line waiting my turn to be served the mysterious meat. 

         Suddenly, a dark haired girl walked into the cafeteria. Everyone turned their head. It was none other than OnyxCity, the school goth. OnyxCity is the great, great granddaughter of none other than the late Edgar Allen Poe. Her family is one of the most famous families in the world. The rumor about her is that her uncle is Stephen King. OnyxCity likes to bring her own lunch, especially on Fridays. She can’t stand mystery meat. Once she takes her seat, everyone goes back to doing what they were before. I’ve only talked to her once or twice. I get my food and take my seat.

I sit next to my friend Braskii. She can sometimes be shy and soft spoken. She is very kind and loves her dog. Suddenly, I hear Principal Ruby Pond’s voice over the loudspeaker. “Hello, Prose High School! I would like to remind everyone that the playwright writing contest is on Monday. The judges will be Mr. Dusty Grein, Ms. Firdaus, Ms. Vyxyn, Mr. Harry Situation, Ms. Bunny, Superintendent Samantha Fowler, Me, Vice Principal Soul Hearts, and Mr. Syne. The winner will get their play performed by the school. That is all”

         Just then Andrometa, the school’s best football player approaches our table. “ Hey, Salinger, are you participating in the contest.” “Yes I am”, I say “And so is Braskii. What about you?”, I ask. “Well, of course, I am Salinger, but so is OnyxCity, Trueblood, Tylas, Monk, and Nyxnight.”, said Andrometa. “Sounds like tough competition”, said Braskii.    

         Mr. Syne is no ordinary math teacher. At least, not at this school. Mr. Syne is one of those teachers that all the girls in the school find attractive. So instead of learning algebra a lot of the girls blackout and daydream about being Mrs. Syne. Apparently, Mr. Syne is their ideal husband. He’s cute, intelligent, kind, creative, and when he talks the sound of his voice makes women just want to drop their panties. However, Mr. Syne has got nothing on Ms. Vyxyn, the school’s drama teacher. I have her class after Mr. Syne. Ms. Vyxyn is considered the hottest teacher at the school. Every class she has fills the auditorium with no seats left over. With most of them being guys. Why? Because just about every boy in the school has a crush on her. Hell, even some of the adults have a crush on her. Her sweet, soothing country style voice is probably the reason a lot of boys around the school walk around with a textbook in front of their genitals in order to hide their boners. Since I’m gay, I’m one of the few boys in the school who don’t have a crush on Ms. Vyxyn.

         Earlier, I told you that even some of the adults had a crush on Ms. Vyxyn. Well, no one has a bigger crush on Ms.Vyxyn than Harry Situation, the owner of the biggest newspaper in the country. He’s rich, young, single, successful and also one of the toughest movie critics in the country. He destroyed one guy’s career by writing one word in the review. The poor guy hasn’t been able to make a come back since. Damn!

         A few years ago Harry came to the school to watch his niece in a school play. Ms. Vyxyn, of course, oversaw the overall production of the play and so at the end of the play she made a big thank you speech. Harry saw Ms. Vyxyn and has been chasing after her ever since. No one knows if Ms.Vyxyn likes Harry Situation, but the school happily takes the money he donates to the school’s drama program. Many think he is stuck in the friend zone, but sometimes she kisses him. This leads some to think they have an on and off relationship or at the very least are friends with benefits. Basically, no one is really certain of the nature of their relationship. From time to time, he will drop by unannounced to visit Ms.Vyxyn. Today was one of those days, so we were let out of drama class ten minutes early.

         After Ms.Vyxyn’s class is lunch and I was starving. On my way to the cafeteria, I noticed that AlSalehi is heading to the auditorium. AlSalehi is a biochemist. He teaches A.P science classes for the scientifically gifted. He has a crush on Ms. Vyxyn too. He hates seeing Harry around Ms.Vyxyn. I hope Harry’s gone before AlSalehi gets there or a fight might break out. That’s not my problem, I say to myself as I enter the cafeteria.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            503 Years Earlier (3 years before the Twain Revolutionary War Ends)

The sky is dark. The cold heavy wind blows through the forest. For most people work begins at dawn, but I’m not most people. So work begins at the dead of night. Few people know my name. I’m the Director of Twain Intelligence. I help the Revolution by providing important information. My code name is Sandflea68. Right now, I’m riding my horse as fast as I can to meet General Paul D. Chambers. I must make him aware that General Jumotki, a general of Emperor Jim Lamb’s forces, is planning a surprise attack. General Chambers is one of the best generals the revolution has on our side. If General Jumotki kills General Chambers, then any hope of defeating Emperor Lamb will be lost. I can’t fail. I only hope that I reach him in time. Mnezz and Mtrubenfire are not far behind me. These girls are some of the best spies we got. Once we get there, they will get Andy Betz, one of the faces of the revolution, to safety. “Stop now or die”, said a deep voice coming from behind me. I turn my head to see who the voice belonged to. He was on his own horse. He and some of his men were chasing us. “Oh no, it’s Fauxhero!”, said Mnezz. Fauxhero was a well-known spy of Emperor Lamb. “He must be here to stop us”, said Mtrubenfire. “Girls, go ahead I’m gonna take care of Fauxhero and his men. General Chambers must be warned in time.”, I said. I stop my horse and watched as their bodies quickly become smaller in the distance. I prepare for battle and ready my sword and shield.

         The day is hot and sunny. A light breeze blows into the town square. President James M. Byers stands on a podium in front of a large crowd. In the background is the Emperor’s Palace. Weeks earlier, it had been the home of the Emperor, the most powerful man in the country. That was before the war ended thus ending Emperor Jim Lamb's rule.

“Today society changes”, said newly elected President Byers. The crowd starts to cheer and applause the president. When the crowd calms down President Byers continues to speak. “We the people of Twain shall form a government that follows the will of the proletarian masses and not the will of the bourgeoisie. We form a government that shall take the power that belonged to the aristocrats and the oligarchs so that it gives it to the people. Corporatism has destroyed the middle class. It has made the rich richer and the poor poorer. It shall no longer!!!” The crowd erupts into applause and cheers.

         The video stops and the lights come back on. The history teacher stands in front of the high school class. “I’m sorry class, but we will have to continue the documentary on Monday. It is time to pack your things and go to your next class. Remember we will have a test over the Twain Revolutionary War, which happened 500 years ago. We will discuss the first Secretary of State Phynne Belle, the First Secretary of War General Paul D. Chambers, First Lady Winterreign, and the First Secretary of the Treasury Esther Flowers.”, said Mrs. Fidaus. A sense of gratitude is felt throughout the room. The class was glad class is over and begins to leave.

         I, of course, am one of the last to leave the classroom. I run down the long student packed hallway in fear that I will be late for Ms. Bunny’s class. Ms. Bunny is the school’s music teacher. She teaches students how to play a different number of instruments. However, she doesn’t like people being late for class. “Slow down and stop running in the hallway”, a medium pitched voice cried out. I turn around and find that the voice belongs to Principal Ruby Pond, who was standing next to Vice Principal Soul Hearts and Superintendent Samantha Fowler. “Yes, ma’am.”, I reply continuing on my way to class and walking quickly to my seat.

         After Ms. Bunny’s class, I head off to Mr. Syne’s class. He is my Algebra 1 teacher. On my way, I run into Dusty Grein, one of the school’s English 4 teachers. Supposedly, he teaches an english class in a laid back way, but grades very strict. It makes him one of the toughest English teachers at the school. I also run into Mrs. Alice Anne, who teaches philosophy. Her favorite philosopher is a guy who’s nickname is Creative Chaos and lived 200 years ago. Why they called him Creative Chaos, I will never know. 

I actually didn't start listening to Soundgarden until 1994, around the time where I assume a majority of their fan base did.  I assume this, of course, because this was the year of their huge commercial sales peak, and the summer of the Black Hole Sun music video on MTV. 

In my case, while it had a lot to do with the accessibility to Soundgarden's music, it also had a lot to do with the simple fact that I was 14 in 1994, and that's about the age where you start listening to your own music and not just what's being played. 

When Soundgarden formed, I was only 2.  When Soundgarden had major labels chasing them but decided to go with SST records because of what it meant to them, I was 6.  When they did finally sign a major label record deal, I was 7.  When they first went platinum, I was 9. 

So while I can't say I was there from the start, I feel that way in retrospect because I did go backwards from 1994.  I listened to Superunknown constantly.  I played Badmotorfinger while I slept (and on more than one occasion, the fade out of Searching, leading into the thunderous start of Room A Thousand Years Wide woke me up in a welcome terror), and I read and listened to the Soundgarden history all before Down on the Upside came out. 

I had every Soundgarden shirt that existed. I wore a different one to school every day, never repeating one in a 2 week span.  It became my identity and my life.  

As I grew older, I appreciated the lyrics more and more. As I learned guitar, I appreciated the music more and more.  And I remember the devastation in 1997 when they disbanded. 

For some reason, it never occurred to me that they would do any other projects. It felt like it was all over. I felt like, if they wanted to make music, they would have just kept Soundgarden going, right ? I'm still not sure if that was naivety or stupidity, or a combination of both, but of course I was wrong and the music didn't stop there. 

I remember Bleed Together playing on the radio at 2am while I was driving. I could tell in a second that it was Soundgarden, and I knew I had never heard this song before.  It was somehow a surprise to me, despite being so up on Soundgarden news, and it is still one of my top Soundgarden songs.  Only this band would record a song like Bleed Together and leave it off of a record.  If nothing else, that alone shows how amazing they were. 

I remember exactly, listening to Euphoria Morning for the first time.  It's hard to find the right word for how I felt on that initial listen.  It was certainly not what I was expecting.  I don't know if confusion does it justice, but it was definitely surprising.  I listened to the album just as much as I did the Soundgarden albums, but I didn't fully appreciate it till a few years later, and now, it is one of the hardest albums to listen to because it is just so perfect and under appreciated, like Chris himself. 

Audioslave was a fun time, and the start of seeing Chris perform live - again, because of the age issue and when Soundgarden broke up.  Now I was free to go to shows, wherever they were. Each show was special. Audioslave shows. Then Chris Cornell shows. And, amazingly, reunited Soundgarden and Temple of the Dog shows too.  39 shows in total.  Right around 100 hours of hearing Chris Cornell live, across really 4 bands if you consider the Chris Cornell band tours vs. the Songbook tours.  

Just, amazing how each band felt different. A songbook show and a Soundgarden show are just nowhere near the same experience. 

I was lucky enough to talk to Chris a few times as well, about his music, about the current tour, and about just some random thing that was going on at the time.  It never felt like a question/answer session, just 2 friends hanging out.  

I still haven't quite grasped what has happened.  I see a tribute and I wonder what Chris will say about it and then it hits me.  I'm fully aware of what happened but it feels like I hear it for the first time every few hours.  I relive the initial moment I found out over and over again.  I can't stop listening to all of the music.  It makes me so appreciative, and so happy, and so sad, and so destroyed, and I welcome all the feelings. 

I feel for the family and friends.  And I don't know if I should consider myself among them, but I do consider Chris to be among mine.  I will forever be a fan. I will forever be a friend. I will never stop listening. I will never stop sharing. I'm so sorry. I'm so thankful. 

Thank you Chris Cornell.