They say a king ain’t a king

Without his rubies and gold,

But I know kings with little things and by god

Do they have it all

It’s not in dimes that defines

A way a man should show his love

Take the time to read between the lines

This is the age of the lost and the found

And now raise a glass to those who choose to live without

I don’t need a key for a castle or a ticket to the stars

so close your eyes and know how lucky you are

Last time I trust Henry Malone for anything.

Since the day we met he’s made his way pedaling snake-oil in the backalleys of Brighton Street. An alley cleaver like that isn’t to be depended on, not ever, least of all by a teenage girl.

It was early and my common sense had yet to wake up—it usually lags in about three hours behind me. I’d befriended this boy from school, Diggy, and for a few weeks we’d been conversatin’ in the cafeteria. I wanted to have him over. But I knew my last grounding had yet to release, which meant no company. We devised a plan where Diggy would sneak in through the window of my bedroom but therein resided the problem. My window was about twenty feet off the ground. Not even NBA jumping legs could get him that high. He offered to catapult off the dumpster, but alas, even Brighton’s notorious mountains of garbage couldn’t gain him enough leverage. So I made a rope by tying bedsheets together. Fortunately when it came untied he was less than three feet up.

Never one to surrender, I spent the night tossing and turning, desperate to form a plan. I’d have to utilize my creativity for this one, or so I thought till an answer broadsided me like a freighter flying 180. On my way to school the next morning I ran into Henry, his hair all greased-back and his trenchcoat hilariously oversized. Never one for subtlety, he threw it open, brandishing a vast spectrum of wares, from off-brand watches to off-brand perfumes to off-brand smartphones. If he had an off-brand kitchen sink in there somewhere I wouldn’t have been surprised. That was Henry.

“Hey kid. Wanna’ buy a watch?” he pressed.

“No thanks. I can miss the bus on my own. Those things are five minutes slow. You set ’em and a glitch stalls ’em out again.”

“Oh, come on. Perfume?”

“I have bad enough acne without a rash adding to the fray.”

“Smartphone?”

“Hear those things have a penchant for exploding. I want to keep my face.”

“Why?”

“Shut up.”

“Okayyy, Miss. What do you need?” he pursued. “Name anything and I’ll get it.”

The answer was only meant to be facetious.

“Got anything that’ll let me sneak someone in through my window? It’s two stories up and tying sheets just ain’t cutting it.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

“Just as I thought, you— Wait, what? You do?”

“Yeah. May sound crazy, but if yer willing to experiment I’d say there’s a way. You got real nice hair, see...”

“Okay. Creepy. Did your brain just short-circuit because that was totes non-sequitur.”

“Just listen. A tonic. It’ll make your hair grow at a hyperaccelerated rate, and you can use that hair as a rope.”

“That’s...the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I declared, before mulling it over a bit. “I mean it’s ridiculous. I feel insulted that you’d even—How much is it?”

“For you, five bucks.”

“Why do I pay you?” I huffed. “I’m not an idiot. But fool me this many times, shame ain’t even a factor anymore. It’s all numb.”

We made the exchange, and I slouched low in case anyone off the main road recognized me in passing. It felt dirty, like a drug deal. Was that it? Was I no more than his junkie now?

Speaking of junky, I slathered the stuff on my hair that night, hoping I wouldn’t die in my sleep. Maybe there wouldn’t be any bad reactions, or bad vibes. Maybe the hair wouldn’t grow inward and crush my brain to pulp. Like I was using it anyway...

The next morning I awoke to find myself an island amid a sea of hair. My golden locks churned around, leaving me to stifle a scream, be it from terror or joy I know not which. Well, at least I knew Henry hadn’t lied. In my cynicism I’d poured the whole bottle on, figuring it to be water. It was colorless and odorless. Easy mistake.

How was I gonna’ hide this from my parents, from my teachers, from everyone? I grabbed a baseball cap off my nightstand and attempted to stuff my hair into it like I used to. When that failed I slid on a hoodie, leaving my hair tucked inside. One problem—it flowed out the bottom like a fountain, dragging across the floor. So I gathered it and stuffed it under the hoodie’s copious flab, till I was inflated like a weather balloon. Thankfully Dad was already at work and Mom was busy with the baby. So I managed to slip out undetected.

“Dang. You cold, Zel?” Diggy made a face when he saw me. “What is this, a dare? Are you doing that dumb fifty hoodie challenge? You’re supposed to take them off right after. You’re not supposed to wear them around.”

Looking like an unhinged blob of humanity, I took him by the shoulders and guided him gently to the janitor’s closet where I proceeded to spill both my hair and my guts.

“This is insane,” he spat.

“Just one visit and I’ll cut it all off,” I pouted. “I want you to see my room.”

“That’s a long ways to go just to show me your room.”

“I’ve done stupider.”

“I believe you.”

That evening I was elated when a rock hit my window. I yanked the sash up and poked my head out to see Diggy standing below.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” he cried. I did. But I misjudged the distance and wound up crushing him. Slight collateral. He survived. And in five seconds he’d latched on and was shimmying up. I gritted my teeth, straining to hold his weight. Guess I didn’t really think that part through either. He weighed twice what I did, so it quickly became a contest of whether he’d make it or whether my head would pop off first. That would be unfortunate.

Speaking of unfortunate. When I was a kid I had this rope swing in the backyard of my fam’s old place. I’d enjoy hours of gliding through the air, till one day it snapped. Dryrot had eaten it from the inside, and though it looked perfectly intact and safe from the outside—it wasn’t. You probably get where I’m going with this. I even recalled the sensation. The rope jerked a bit, gave, gave more, then snap. I felt a similar sensation right then, as Diggy scaled my hair. He was almost to the window. But my hair was starting to jerk. The strands were breaking from the inside-out.

“Diggy!” I tried to scream, but it was too late. He was already on his way to the ground and I was already mentally throttling Henry Malone. A profound lapse of judgement. One of many.

The doctors said Diggy had a broken leg and a couple sprains. Nothing too serious. The tonic I’d used had worked, initially, but its cheap hack-job formula had weakened the hair, so while it was technically longer, that full look was just a brittle artifice. It wouldn’t have held a feather up long, let alone a human body.

Next time I saw Henry he had an ointment all whipped up that could supposedly heal Diggy’s broken leg.

“Woah, what happened to you?” he paused, after I’d lowered my hood and displayed the shaggy remnants of my new bob.

That was my only reply. Throttling him would’ve been overkill.

So I just kept walking.

#fiction

Often time, Death is deemed to be a dense veil of compounded disbeliefs,

or guarded series of cultural taboos.

Like a dark black airtight steel-wall,

behind which one could easily hide and push away all the deepest fears, doubts, worries, worst nightmares and all the unseen aspects of the self.

When dense negative emotions creeping into crevices of my consciousness,

I see two choices in front of me: freeze or work a pathway out.

Through time, I learned that very concept of Death could be my own initiatory gateway,

it is up to me to decide how to break through it:

Keep backing down in front of it? Or, simply surrender myself,

let divine grace and light

shining through that seemingly blocked void and inner portal…

Allow loaded burdens of long accumulated

fears and worries be laid behind,

let the dense shell of a defensive ego naturally be released...

Gradually and graciously,

letting my long neglected inner Chaudron of

unknown mythical powers finally be revealed,

so that I can finally grasp hold of my own intrinsic gifts, and

truly start to treasure who I really am and why I am here to begin with...

Death is not a punctuation mark of an ending,

but a mysterious ongoing bridges that enables me to touch the unknown sky-horizons.

It revealed to me in dreams, as a fair white-ray Angle,

who helps me mend detached flower petals of an injured sorrowful heart.

She taught me how to patch up my fragmented missing wing-feathers together,

and how to reclaim all the lost soul-pieces back home again…

Slowly through the healing grace of time,

She guided me how to transition onto a path of ascension.

Death is a gentle spiritual mentor,

who heralds the transmission and transmutation of soulful journeys.

She is the one, who tenderly and patiently assists wounded souls,

to take comforting walks...

Through layers of initiatory atonements,

my core-being of soul-essence can finally be awakened to the very path of learning...

Learning how to align my life’s purpose with my predestined blueprint on earth,

how to navigate through myriads gates of multiple life-time’s reincarnations,

and how to transverse tumultuous ocean of earthly paths, eventually onto the multidimensional transcendental places…

It is an initiation and continuation of another kind of transitory journey--

a continuation of spiritual awakening and soulful ascension.

Death is a riverbank that one can smoothly and graceful amble along…

just as easy as meandering through the thin veil of a dream-world...

like an ethereal fairy who can ride on a rainbow unicorn,

effortlessly leaping across gossamer webs and paths unto the astral space—

where one can easily continue this miraculous soulful journey:

gate after gate, path after path, life after life...

The embers in your veins lure me into the depths of your soul. I stumble into your darkness, tripping over old bones, painful heartaches, and sharp disappointments. Yet, being covered by the darkest parts of you does not deter me.

I am gently guided blindly through the paths of your unspoken truths and hesitations. The song of your heart entangles fragments of my emotions as I flow towards you like the rush of the ocean’s waves kissing the feet of the sand.

In the distance, I see your dancing flame, purring like a lazy snow leopard, causing sweet vibrations under my chest as I walk towards your glow. My idle hand reaches the warmth of you as I feel a lick of your dark passion caress my skin.

It does not b u r n.

Your existence has been foretold under the covers of my dreams. Your eyes, Nordic blue waters hugging soft embers, bore into my soul, causing shattered breaths that barely escape my lungs.

Like a siren that brings humans to their knees, I cannot escape your t h r a l l.

I do not care to t r y.

I know it hurts. I know it does. Thank you for listening. Please listen a little longer.

I know you're looking for a way out; you're looking for relief. You won't get it this way because relief is a feeling and you can't feel anything when you are dead.

But, I have some really good news for you. Most people who want to commit suicide, don't. Your chances of surviving is high.

I know what you really want isn't to die, but to be free of pain. You feel out of control and this is your way to get it. Other people can help you get that control and help you feel better and you don't have to die. A lot of us have been where you are and have survived and we can teach you how to survive to, and even thrive. You have the ability within you to overcome it.

When someone wants to kill themselves, it's because their coping abilities are outmatched by the pain they are feeling. It has nothing to do with being strong, okay? Almost everyone has felt like killing themselves at one point. And again, most of them survive.

We are going to help you get more coping abilities so that your pain, in time, will be outmatched by your ability to cope with pain and get through it.

Just promise me that you will think it over and you won't kill yourself tonight. I will stay with you, but promise me you will be alive tomorrow morning.

P.S. this is hard to do one-sided because most of it is actually just listening to the person.

For all the interwoven past lives’ stories and karmic tides of memories,

just to better prepare me

for this present moment’s first encounter, to

join spirits with you.

One sight, a million years...

White pigeons flapping wings,

soaring high and low,

hovering around us, to

celebrate every miracle we had successfully unwrapped in this life time...

We congratulate each,

the roads that had led us joining our efforts of energy together,

and the path that we each had walked,

upon eons of time-space,

of a soulful journey.

We are so grateful, for

every spirit and soul-being that had guided us to today..

And that, we learned to gather within the self,

such a certainty of knowingness—

for all the mutual past lives’ intertwining storylines,

were all just magnificent rhythmic rehearsals to,

help us gathering, celebrating and better preparing for

this life’s chances to reunite with each,

over and over again.

Rejoicing, and rewriting

our lifetime’s stories

again and again.

a glass dome

of ash

and wind

crumpled

leaves soaring

like mourning

doves

parched grass

scattered

across

the wasteland

cut wires

monsters

of plastic

and metal

dying

*sparks*

oblivion

and

insanity

there's

fire

dancing

on

the hills

a frantic

waltz

*creeping closer and closer*

i reach my hand

out across

the void

and

i

am

crushed

under

the weight

of the

letters

that come

spilling

back

forced smiles

and

half-true

promises

*smothered*

but i am

still waiting

to be saved

by

a

tragic

empty

question

that

remains

*unanswered*

she lives in a world of fiction, a universe of twisted truths and romanticized realities;

she’s a girl who lives hidden away behind book covers, in between italicized fairytales;

the clamor of society is drowned out by the lullabies of literature, by

the poetry and the prose to which she ever-so-tightly clings;

she falls in love twice a day, and once more in

the night, scrawling half-forgotten daydreams on her yellow walls

before they slip away, sand in between her fingers

pounded into castles, castles that will never crumble,

will they? with time, ignorance becomes insufficient,

imagination an illness, and dreams the

dust that has settled over

her right-side brain,

the sandy ashes

of her

soul

Darling Josephine,

I must admit that receiving your letter this morning felt as if a lone candle in the darkness had been lit.

I realise that is has been a long while since our youthful days; do you remember those midday lunchtimes in that meadow of buttercups and wild daisies? The pollen may have disturbed our noses, but my recollection of those days is blissful, and I too wish for them once again. The wispy white fae from the seeds of the dandelion would always pester you, however I don’t believe I’ve told you that against the backdrop of twilight, you were completely and utterly ethereal.

I often wonder what you wished for each time you blew the fae to the sky. Then again I suppose, the wish wouldn’t come true, would it?

I was vehemently in love with you then, just as I am now. The flowers you wore in your hair always reflected your eyes in the most beautiful fashion. Your graceful, angelic features blessed each of my days with happiness and a deep heartache. The sun would catch your eyes at just the right angle, and your kaleidoscope eyes would paralyse me. Until you snapped your fingers in front of my face to pull me back.

I ask the moon every night to watch over you as the streets become ever the more grimy and danger-filled, all the while I am locked in this estate with no place of solace.

I ardently desire the security and liberty of those days once again. When you visited my abode to play piano, your pieces played themselves into my dreams and I frequently awoke well rested and at ease. I do hope you are still able to play.

Dearest Jo, is it not your birthday next week? I must extend my most sincerest apologies for not having sent anything to you, and my deepest condolences for your current predicament. You were defenestrated?

Oh Josephine, what did you do? Are you injured? I have always admired your head-strong attributes and valiant displays of loyalty for each and every one of your companions, but you must take care, and not draw any unwanted attention to yourself!

Along with this letter, I have selected some pearl jewellery -- freshwater. It may not be much, buy I am certain that if you sold the earrings and necklace separately, you could earn enough to stablilise and buy yourself some necessities. Do not worry about the value, any misfortune that my husband causes is, to him, rectified by more jewels and a few short words. I wish that I could enclose real money, but you know how George is.

As a woman, he believes that I am incapable of handling the finances. You and I both understand this is childish prattle, but I’m afraid that I am powerless and he is too irascible to comprehend. He can snudge around all day, but upon finding me reading the poems of Keats, which you so endearingly gifted me, he sees crimson.

Unfortunately, he has been experiencing some... self-control issues these days. I do wish that he didn’t depend on scotch so heavily, as more often than not, I feel like a bird trapped in a metal cage in his prescence.

Did you know that he partakes in a weekly boxing club?

I am not very fond of this, not because I care for his safety, but because he is already unpredictable and arrogant, and adding strength to his alcohol-driven anger is certainly inviting danger into our home. It is an arduous task, soothing him after the sun kisses the horizon. I detest my father to this day for forcing George on me due to his status, when that is a result of his parent’s hard work, and through no merit of his own. I am sure my father had benevolent intentions, however my inexorable fate seems to be one of despair and anxiety. No matter, I have lasted these previous years with few tribulations.

I can wait for you.

Know that I cast no regard as to what he or my mother think of you, for they are encompassed by a toxic and merciless hatred that will only devour them in time.

You have never shown me any degree of malice as they have, you have only ever ignited the fire of love in my heart, that burns brighter every day.

Does absence make the heart grow fonder?

I believe that a disguise would not give anyone in the vicinity a reason to distrust you, although I am not certain how you could secure us a future when they already know your face. I await your response with the greatest ardour, for every beat of my heart is for you.

I long to be in your arms again soon.

I love you.

Farewell for now,

Lila

Majestic streets of ivory, towers of pearl, glorious wonders I can only dream about as I lay in the great field by my little hut, gazing at the wondrous kingdom of legend, hanging there in the sky.

Oh, the sight of it is unbearable, I want to glimpse these wonders for myself, but alas, I have no wings.

I have long dreamt of venturing up there, to the great kingdom in the sky. In fact, my fruitless dreams had brought me to where I now reside

I finally had just about had enough, and was about to return to my hut, when I heard the strangest sounds coming from the forest behind me.

I rushed over to see what the fuss was, and to my surprise, there was a wrinkly old wizard shouting for help.

His robes were somewhat of a muted purple with green stars all over it. His long beard, which extended to the ground, flopped around as he desperately tried to escape the bear trap he was caught in.

I obviously ran to help him as soon as I saw his predicament.

When he was finally free, he gave a sigh of relief and thanked me as he picked up his hat from the ground.

"*phew* Thanks a bunch son, what can I call you?"

"Well, my name's Peter Widjit, but you can call me Peter."

"Nice to meet you Pete, the name's Julius K. Argozant. As you can see, I'm a wizard."

I tilted my head to the side and probed for specifics.

"What kind of magic can you use?"

"All sorts!"

"Why couldn't you use your magic to free yourself?"

"Well, it doesn't work like that. I can do lots of things, but I am unfortunately without a spell that frees people from bear traps..."

Argozant gazed up at the trees around them.

"I know, how about I give you a reward for saving me?"

As I'm not the kind of person that rejects something free, I readily accepted his offer.

"Certainly! What did you have in mind?"

"I can cast a spell on you that lets you fly like a bird for a whole day!"

Stars flew around in my eyes when I pictured the joys I could have with such an endowment.

"I would be honored."

"Ohoho! the pleasure's all mine! You saved me, after all."

We stepped out of the forest and he started waving his hands around, chanting things that sounded like nonsense, but I recognized them from fairy tales about wizards my mom read to me when I was young.

"Bazow!"

A bolt of lightning struck me, yet I was not hurt at all.

"Well? Try it out."

I leapt as high as I could, and suddenly I found myself unable to land.

"Haha, this is great!"

"Glad you like it. Welp, I'll be off."

And he scurried off into the forest to do who knows what. But I didn't care, I had my ticket to the wondrous kingdom of my dreams.

I stopped off back home first, and loaded my backpack with fruits and a small pitchfork I dug out of the closet. I needed snacks, and having something to defend myself with was only sensible.

With my backpack full, and my 24 hours already ticking away, I had my sights set on the kingdom!

Without further ado, I took off towards the sky. It was surprisingly easy to control my flight, so I had no real problems, besides the occasional bird or two.

As I had suspected, it was much further away than it looked from my hut. I flew for almost half an hour before I realized I could accelerate my speed. So only a few minutes later, I arrived at the glorious kingdom in the sky.

The only problem I faced now, was that my increase in speed was quite difficult to stop. I realized this a little too late, as I ended up crashing through the side of a building, and then through the other side.

I brushed myself off, coughing from the dust I had kicked up, but then I noticed where I was.

It was a central courtyard to some sort of royal execution site. An important looking bird man in silvery robes was tied up next to a few other people that looked similarly dressed. A scary looking man with the head of a dragon was dragging another person towards the side of the kingdom. It looked like a girl.

From my years of reading mystery novels, I deduced that this man was trying to take over the kingdom and was beginning to execute the royalty. So I decided to act on behalf of the side that didn't terrify me.

Of course, as you might expect, my entrance was hardly unnoticed, the 'minions' of the dragon man surrounded me with tall, two-pronged spears pointed at me.

Timidly, I squeaked, "U-um, excuse me..." and left the way I came.

I flew out near the underside of the place to observe the proceedings, that way I could swoop in if necessary.

The dragon man stood the girl up, and pushed her onto a plank of wood leading off the side of the kingdom. She timidly walked towards the edge. I could see him yelling something at her, but I was too far to hear it.

With a final shove, she fell off the side and I knew it was my turn to help.

I swooped in and caught her in more than enough time.

I flew underneath the kingdom to the opposite side, just to be safe. And we landed in what appeared to be a garbage dump of sorts.

I set her down and untied her. She shook her feathers out and stretched her wing-like arms.

Upon further inspection, she was quite bird-like, but had no beak. Though her face did have feathers on it, it was more human in build.

"W-who are you?" She said.

"I'm just a man... who can fly for today."

She looked at me with great confusion, and inspected my appearance.

"Aren't you a grounder?"

"Grounder?"

"Someone from the ground."

"Oh. Yes, I am."

"How in the world did you get up here? No grounders can fly."

"I just said I can fly for today."

"Oh, that's right. How did that happen?"

"I saved a wizard, and he gave me this power for today."

"Oh, how nice of him!"

The room was quiet for 3 minutes.

"S-so, what was up back there?"

"The revolutionaries, headed by Holbeak Gallow, the man who made me walk the plank, are trying to take over Floatilla! In celebration of his victory, he decided to execute one of the royal family a day, so he chose me first. I don't know what I'm going to do, I have to save my family!"

I thought about it, and came to the only right conclusion.

"I know, I'll help you!"

"You will?"

"Why, certainly! I can't just let a pretty girl and her family get executed by a dragon man!"

"Oh, thank you!"

She jumped up and gave me a big hug.

"So what's your name?"

"Misty Cumulonimbus. Princess of Floatilla. And you?"

"I'm Peter Widjit. Normal human grounder."

We talked for a while about possible ways to stop Holbeak from killing the king's family, and came up with a simple plot that should work out for us.

We flew over to the sky castle and landed on the roof softly. We quietly tiptoed over to a skylight and peered in to see if Holbeak was there.

There he was, sitting in the royal throne meant for Misty's dad, laughing while sipping a cup that looked like it was filled with wine of some sort.

"Okay, you remember the plan?" I whispered to her.

Misty nodded.

"I'll do my best!"

She glided down to the front door, as although they have wings, they cannot exactly fly, at least, not until they are fully mature.

As loud as she could, she crashed through the door and proclaimed loudly:

"Holbeak Gallow, I have returned to claim what is rightfully mine!"

The revolutionaries in the castle were stunned to see her again.

Holbeak spat his wine all over the floor, exclaiming "Egad, how in the heavens are you still alive?!"

"I have powers beyond your understanding! Come and face me outside so we can finish this once and for all!"

"Guards, seize her!"

The guards were terrified of her return, they didn't know what kind of powers she had obtained, and didn't want to risk their lives.

"You morons! I guess I'll have to take care of this myself."

He got up and threw his cape to the side, which hurt Misty, as it was her father's.

He walked the distance of the humongous room and met up with her at the door.

"I'll have you know I was trained by the queen's bodyguard himself."

"I know. I was never going to fight you."

"Hm?"

I swooped down and grabbed Holbeak as they exited the castle.

"Wha- what is this?!"

"You've lost, Holbeak Gallow!"

"Hmph, trying to kill me, are you?"

"I don't approve of killing, so I'm taking you to a place you'll never hurt these people again."

While we were conversing about strategies to stop him earlier, Misty brought up a serious weakness of Holbeak's race, the dracos. They had no flight capabilities at all.

This meant my next stop was, of course, the ground.

I dropped him face first on the ground and made a u-turn back towards Floatilla.

In the evening, they had an extravagant party in celebration of their hero. But sadly, it wouldn't last forever.

"Are you sure you have to go?" Misty said with a tear in her eye.

"It's where I belong. You know, you could come with me."

"But I have my duties up here..."

I gave her a hug, and said, "You could always come visit me sometime. It doesn't need to be for long. Here."

I pulled out a small map I'd written up earlier.

"So you can always find me."

She smiled and replied softly, "I promise to visit you."

And so we parted ways, and I returned to my hut on the ground.

The next day, at around noon, I flew around for the last few minutes before it wore off. Which came quite suddenly, as I fell face first onto the ground and got a mouthful of dirt.

Satisfied with my adventure, I returned to my hut to fix up some lunch.

But outside, there lurked a shadowy figure bent on my destruction.

"Whoever you are, I found you and I will destroy you!"

Holbeak Gallow had found my home and was preparing to attack me with a primitive spear he'd constructed.

"Diiiieeee!"

*Poof*

"W-what's this? What happened to me? Why am I so short? What's this shell on my back?"

"Hohoho, I think you've done enough killing, Mr. Gallow."

Julius K. Argozant, the wizard who started this whole mess, stepped out from behind a tree. He had turned the terrible Holbeak Gallow into a turtle to prevent him from slaying Peter.

"And now," He said, picking up Holbeak and putting him in his pocket, "You're coming with me. No more mischief for you."

And he headed off into the forest to do who knows what.

END