Some years ago, an eagle tried to make off with our puppy, Frederick (named after my favorite philosopher). I cannot begin to tell you how traumatic that was for us, especially Freddie. Ever since, he's been afraid of his own shadow, wholly and completely unable to savor the joy that is a dog's life. He is happiest tamely chewing his rubber sword on the rug in front of the fireplace rather than running around in the fresh air chasing squirrels digging up the bulbs in my flower beds, the postman or the neighborhood children.

Desiring justice for Freddie, we chose to ignore our good sense and general love of all God's creatures. I'm not proud to say we sprinkled poison on some wild bunnies who we knew were destined to be the eagle's meal before long. It didn't matter, though. The damage was done to poor Freddie.

I used to laugh when he would trip over his massive puppy paws (a Mastiff, he is now a two hundred pound big baby) to escape the shadow of the robins that nest in our trees...until he caused himself serious injury when he turned and crashed against a tree that, in his anxious state, he forgot was there. Let's just say, it is not easy getting him to the vet. Plus, our veterinary bills horrify me almost as much as Freddie's repeatedly bloody head.

Recently, after bumping into one of our less sturdy fruit trees, Freddie made a more pleasant discovery. An apple fell on his head. He attacked it, and realized he loved the flavor. He tried to scale the tree to reach more. The tree won. How he whined. But we cheered him up that evening with a dish of sliced apples. Little Charlotte tried to share some of her raisins to go with the apple slices. Fortunately, we caught her before we had to make another emergency visit to the vet.

Did know a single raisin or grape can give your dog kidney failure?

The poisoned apple of ignorance strikes against science once more. There is no justicein the sword which strikes like an eagle hunting an innocent puppy. I cannot ignore this horrifying love of misinformation. Not in this time. Survival rests on the truth.

As I begin this treatise, I must say I am afraid the populace will savor my demise. The scale of the fraud the world insists upon, is an injury to the rational mind. It brings to mind the flavor of a rotten raisin hidden among the grapes in the vat.

My ghost will laugh when the future vindicates me. The Earth is not the center of the universe. For as far as I can see, we turn our year around the sun, and therefore it is the middle of our heavens. The idea is as necessary as the bulb is to the crocus, which brings forth precious saffron.

My words will be held over my head as my spirit leaves my body. I am accused of the greatest hearsay a man may contrive; the Inquisition has spoken. I am under house arrest, forced into silence. Mark my words. I speak the truth.

Galileo

in youth we are taught to SAVOR

the BULB of burgeoning life.

AGAINST the advice of our elders,

we forget to relish our youth,

preferring resentment OVER

LAUGHTER.

we would rather HORRIFY

than LOVE,

rather disobey

than conform,

desperate in our innocence

to taste the forbidden APPLE

of adulthood

even if it causes us INJURY.

we are content to POISON ourselves

with a lust for the future.

we pluck the seeds of development

early

in an attempt to hasten

our bodies

towards the sweet freedom of adulthood.

readily, we IGNORE the responsibility

that falls upon our shoulders in the process.

and JUSTICE all too often

raises her SWORD to strike us down,

SCALE tipped,

but not in our favor.

in our rush to taste the FLAVOR of adulthood,

we have turned from grapes to RAISINS,

losing the substance that gave us our

vitality,

and set out to dry

in nursing homes and hospice care.

the world has shriveled us,

and thus our life is over

before we even let it BEGIN.

in our fear of youth,

we've started to understand

why our parents are AFRAID of age.

every PUPPY loses its energy,

every EAGLE goes bald.

youth is fleeting,

and the young are afraid of its

impermanence.

but age is eternal,

passed from generation to generation

like a cursed heirloom,

and the old are afraid

to acknowledge

that they're

just like

their parents.

True words are spoken with conviction.

They spill from the lips with nectar and POISON,

Soothing the soul or adding INJURY to one's ego.

JUSTICE lives in the depths of true words.

To SAVOR the truth, you must be of it,

Never going AGAINST its nature by soiling yourself with lies.

An EAGLE flies with truth under its wings.

A PUPPY begins his life with truth under his paws and runs with ease.

LOVE in its entirety is truth.

To IGNORE that love is true, is to unbalance the SCALE that is life,

To HORRIFY the soul,

And to LAUGH at all kindness and fairness.

We BEGIN life as a fresh, plump grape filled with truth,

Then the sun dries us OVER time with hurt and lies.

We are then as RAISINS,

Forever retaining the FLAVOR of the lies we have absorbed.

Like a flower still yet a BULB, we bloom slowly.

Climbing the climbs on the tree of life,

Then we fall to the ground like an APPLE,

AFRAID to get up again for fear of being stricken by a SWORD of the enemies lies.

Yet, as resilience resides within the heart of every person,

We rise again,

To fight forever, the battle of truth and lies,

In the ongoing war of life.

"IGNORE the POISON APPLEs"

the PUPPY told the creatures HOORIFIed

"Ha! Be not AFRAID

I LOVE JUSTICE RISing up

OVER and AGAINST INJURY"

the eagle LAUGHed.

With that the EAGLE SCALEd the tree

and with a swoop of his SWORD

cut the fruit

and BEGAN SAVORing

the FLAVOR of the golden BULB.

Two teenagers walked on in the pouring rain, their boots splashing in the puddles, as they shivered in the wind. The streets were eerily empty because of the weather. They walked on through the cobblestone streets eventually reaching a small house. A bird chirped in the distance, somehow audible OVER the rain. The wind pierced their faces like a SWORD. On the door the name Steven Fairwell was engraved. Once undercover of the small awning projected from the roof, they removed the hoods of their raincoats, revealing a girl and a boy.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” The girl asked, impatiently, her dark hair whipping in the wind. “It seems sketchy, Billy, the whole place, the whole plan.”

“I trust Fairewell, Isabelle,” the boy named Billy said calmly. “If anyone can figure out time travel it’s Fairewell. You haven’t met him, he’s a genius. And it can’t hurt to ask.”

“You heard one rumor, Billy! One rumor that Fairewell might know how to time travel! And if you ask me he seems a little insane.”

He IGNOREd her and knocked thrice on the black door. They waited for a few moments, and then he knocked louder. The door opened and there stood a tall man, with rather eccentric graying hair. He was wearing an old gray bathrobe, shirtless underneath, his chest was bare and slippers.

“Mr. Fairewell, hi,” Billy said, extending his hand. Fairewell shook it.

“This is Isabelle Potter,” Billy added and Fairewell nodded at her.

“I wasn’t expecting visitors. You must excuse me, my house is rather messy at the moment,” Fairewell said.

“That’s no problem, we just had a few questions,” Billy said loudly over the rain.

Isabelle cleared her throat pointedly.

“I had a few questions,” he added, giving her a dirty look.

“Come in, come in,” Fairewell said, gesturing with his arm.

The small house was unlike any other. Books and stacks of papers lay everywhere; on the floor, on tables, shelves. There were also random objects lying on the floor, marbles, empty water bottles, plastic flowers. It seemed as if there had been an earthquake. Billy and Isabelle had to tiptoe carefully to make sure they wouldn’t step on anything. They were led into what seemed to be a living room, it was too littered. Fairewell motioned for them to sit on an old couch, and he sat opposite them on a blue armchair.

“How can I help you, dear children?” Fairewell asked grandly.

“Well, Mr. Fairewell-” Billy began

“Please call me Steven,” Fairewell interrupted.

“Steven, there have been rumors. Strange rumors, and I only thought that someone with brains like yours would have figured out, well, time travel.”

There was a pause.

“Rumors are not usually true, but do generally start with some fact,” Fairewell said. “I certainly have experimented with the matter and have gotten some success, but it would be too risky.”

“Some things are worth the risk,” Billy said. “I mean how risky could it possibly be?”

“My dear boy, we are talking about the secrets of the universe, changing the past, changing life as we know it,” Fairewell said. “You do not understand the SCALE of disaster that can come with that.”

“But it’s possible. You can go back and change the past,” Isabelle said, sounding fearful, speaking for the first time to Fairewell.

“Certainly it’s possible. Come here,” he said, standing up and starting to walk. The other two followed him, exchanging curious glances.

He led them through the kitchen into another small room with a large wooden table. On the table was an odd looking upside-down silver bowl. There was a keypad with buttons numbered one through nine.

“This is my newest project. I’ve been working on it for months. And I’ve finally got it. This is my Time Machine, the Fairewell 1500. The buttons are used to enter the exact date and time you want to go back. Push the green button and you get transported to where your past self was at that exact moment. You change your course of actions, now knowing what they do in the future, and then press and you come back. Maximum three people can use it at once, one person wears that hat and he holds the other two people’s hands. You get turned into your past self that you were at the date you put in until you decide to leave when you push the green button on the back. You’ll get transported back to the present and the past will have been altered.”

“Does it—work?” Isabelle said, unable to keep the skepticism out of her voice. She looked uncertainly at Fairewell.

“Of course it works. But it must be used very carefully. It in fact should never be used. The world is too perfect to risk rewriting its past,” Fairwell said kindly. “I know why you’re here, Billy. And I can’t help you.”

“You do?”

“Does this have something to do with the recent demise of your girlfriend?”

Billy nodded.

“I’m AFRAID I cannot help you there. Time travel could theoretically change the past. You could go back and fix things, change how you do something. Then come back into the future. But you have to understand how lucky we are. Everything worked out so perfectly for us to be standing here. Just to be alive is a miracle and something to be grateful for. Changing even one thing could affect so many others,” Fairewell said, looking exhausted. “You could seriously hurt yourselves helping her. What could go wrong would HORRIFY you, you could attain great physical INJURY, I cannot even BEGIN to state what could go wrong.“

“What if it’s worth it. Some things are worth sacrificing yourself for,” Billy said, sounding angry. He looked at Isabelle who shook her head slightly. “I don’t care. You don’t understand. It’s my fault she died. It’s all my fault,” Billy said, sounding as if he were ready to cry. “I texted her, while she was driving, she was answering me. I sent the Last Text.”

“You don’t need to blame yourself, Billy, it could have been anyone,” Fairewell said, as Isabelle put her arm around him.

“I need to use your time machine, and you can help me. Please, Steven,” Billy said, with a plea in his voice. “I need her, it was my fault, I need to help her.”

“Time travel can be used to fix small problems. You redo a question on a test. You trip in front of everyone. You forget your lunch at home. But you’re talking about life and death. You can’t change that. You don’t get to play God, decide who dies when. And even if you did that she wouldn’t be alive completely.”

“What does that mean?” Isabelle asked sharply. “What do you mean completely, is half of her alive?"

“She would be alive and dead at the same time. Both here and there. She would be miserable and so would everyone else. You wouldn’t get the Olivia you knew you would get some mutated version of her. A version you don’t want. If she was honey before she would turn into POISON. She doesn’t belong here. It would not do you or her any JUSTICE.”

“She does, she’s supposed to be here!” yelled Billy. “She was too young, she ever was supposed to go, it was a stupid mistake! Fairewell, help me!”

“I’m sorry, Billy, but that is my final word,” said Fairewell, and without another word Billy left the house and Isabelle followed.

“Stupid old coward,”Billy said once they were outside. He spat on the ground outside Fairewell’s house.

The rain had cleared now, but the streets were still muddy. The two started walking, leaving muddy footprints behind them.

“Billy, it’s not his fault,” Isabelle said quietly as if she was worried he would start yelling at her.

“No, it’s not, it’s mine! Mine, Isabelle, mine. And I screwed up and am ready to fix it. I want to help, what’s his problem?”

“Look, Billy, I know you’re angry at Fairewell but he’s not stupid. He’s brilliant, smarter than me and you put together. He invented time travel, for goodness’ sake. I mean maybe you just have to trust him on this.”

They kept arguing with each other, until reaching their houses. After a few nights of restless sleep and little appetite Billy brought up the subject again.

They were sitting in Billy’s house, which was luckily empty except for them. Billy’s parents had developed an annoying habit of always keeping close to him, asking how he was coping with Olivia’s death, if he was okay. He could not get angry with them, they were doing it out of concern, yet he could not help but feel exasperated.

“I’m going to do it, with or without Fairewell, with or without you, Isabelle,” Billy said.

“You heard what Fairewell said, it’s dangerous, it’s stupid, Billy!” Isabelle said, her eyes blazing again. She seemed as determined as he did.

“I don’t care, I need to do this for my own sanity. I’m not going to regret failing, I’m going to regret not trying. I don’t think I can live with myself if I don’t try.”

This seemed to resonate with Isabelle more than anything he had said yet. She looked as if she finally had given in.

“While you’re not doing it alone, I can guarantee you that much. We’re in this together, Billy. We always have been, we always will be.”

It was her willingness to stay with him, her desire to risk everything just for him, that caught Billy off guard. His eyes watered and he looked away embarrassed. He was not a crier; he only cried once since his girlfriend’s death. He always was proud of his masculinity. Hoping Isabelle had not seen. However she stood up and put her arms around his waist and he hugged her back.

“What’s the plan?” Isabelle asked.

Over the next two weeks they planned all they could, thinking of every single flaw, every bump in the road. “What can go wrong will go wrong.” Isabelle kept saying. Finally when they had worked out every detail, every problem, planned out every exact minute, they thought they couldn’t delay it any longer.

“I think we’re ready,” Billy said. “Planning can only go so far, we’re just going to have to grit our teeth and do it.”

Isabelle agreed, rather hesitantly. They were going to break into Fairewell’s house using a key Billy knew was under the doormat. Years ago he used to go in to feed the goldfish Fairewell used to have, when he was on vacation. Fairewell’s calendar, which Isabelle brilliantly had paid attention to, said that he went and got clear polish manicures on the third Sunday every month for four hours. Billy could not stop LAUGHing at this unexpected piece of information.

On Sunday they both told their parents they were at a friend’s house, and tipped the friend off. Thankfully he did not raise too many questions and agreed to keep their cover. They both sneaked off into the old house. Using the large brass key under the doormat they entered. The place looked exactly as it had the previous time. Carefully walking over to the Time Machine room, trying not to move anything they crossed the house.

“Who’s going to wear it?” Billy asked

“Not me,” she replied.

“What, I don’t want to, it’s hideous.”

“She’s your girlfriend, and it's your mission.”

“Fine.”

He punched the date of Olivia’s death and put the time an hour before, to give himself some time to prepare.

“Remember, we’re going to be split up, we’ll be sent back to where we were at this moment. I was at my house and you were at yours. You will meet me by the Salvia Drive road sign and whatever you do you will not text Olivia.”

“Yes, Isabelle, I got it, we’ve gone over it a hundred times.”

“I know, okay, you ready?“ She asked, looking AFRAID, yet determined.

Billy nodded and put the time machine on.

“How do I look?” He asked, not really wanting to know.

“Awful,” she said smiling

Billy grabbed Isabelle’s hand very tightly and pressed the green button with her free hand. They felt as if they were falling, as if they had jumped off of a skyscraper and kept falling until their hands were forced apart. Billy landed in his kitchen, two months ago. His mother was making APPLE and RAISIN FLAVORed bread, its scent drifting through the house, and talking about plans for his little sister’s birthday. He quickly took the time machine off and hid it under the table. Now he remembered the small details of the day, he had forgotten them in the height of what would happen. But he knew he didn’t have time to SAVOR the smell. He looked at the clock on his stove and adjusted his wristwatch.

“Mom, I need to go to Isabelle’s house, I need help with a homework assignment,” Billy lied.

“Okay, honey be back soon.”

He agreed and hurried off towards the sign. Isabelle was already there waiting for him.

“Okay she’s supposed to die in 45 minutes,” Billy said, checking his watch.

“Now we wait in the park, not talking to anyone, or adjusting anyone’s life and wait until she safely reaches her destination.”

They walked quickly to the park where they sat on a secluded bench. Billy leaned AGAINST a tree watching as an EAGLE flew across the sky. He kicked over an unbloomed rose bulb. They talked about pointless things to pass the time, the weather, school, Isabelle’s LOVE life. She was not too happy with this subject and changed it as quickly as possible. Billy checked his watch.

“Okay, she has safely arrived at her destination. We can go home now.”

A young woman strolled by walking a small PUPPY and started talking to them. Small talk between strangers, it seemed completely harmless. She complimented Isabelle’s necklace and Isabelle told her where she bought it from. They spoke for less than two minutes.

Once Olivia was supposed to be at her destination Billy put the time machine back on and grabbed Isabelle’s hand. She once again pressed the green button and they were transported back to Fairewell's house.

“We did it!!” Billy exclaimed, hugging her. “We really did it!”

“Now we just have to call Olivia and make sure she’s alive. Call her.”

Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Olivia up. After a few rings with no answer he ended and put it back in his pocket, swearing.

“Maybe she doesn’t have it on, or was busy,” Isabelle offered. “We’ll just have to go to her house.”

They set off to her house, half walking half running. The streets were eerily empty. After they reached ten minutes later, Isabelle was panting, clutching her rib. Rather apprehensive, unsure of what to expect Billy knocked. Olivia’s mother,  Ava, opened the door. She looked tired, dark circles under her eyes. She looked thinner than ever before, even sick.

“What are you doing outside at a time like this? Do you want to get murdered?” Ava said, looking very alarmed. “Come inside, do your parents know you guys are here?”

“Um yes, we just wanted to see Olivia,” said Billy tentatively. He was unsure what to expect and had no idea what Ava was talking about.

“I’m not sure this is the best time. She’s really not well as you know,” Ava said and Billy and Isabelle seemed puzzled. Neither knew how to ask what happened without raising suspicion, yet both were dying for answers.

They walked inside the house.

“How can you both be out and about at a time like this? It is so dangerous to even be outside!“ Ava yelled once inside

“Well, Mrs. Weasley, we really just wanted to check in on Olivia,“ Billy said now looking and sounding rather desperate. “She is okay, right? And why is everyone saying it is dangerous to be outside.“

“Why are you acting so dumb. The murderer, Bailey Green, is still out there and claiming lives every day. No one can seem to catch her. And well you know how Olivia is, she‘s still all depressed and refuses to talk to anyone. She acts like she isn‘t even living anymore, she just sits and stares all day. She doesn‘t do anything or go anywhere, it is not getting better.“

Billy remembered what Fairewell said, she would be neither here nor there. She would not be able to really live, but she would not be dead.

“Can we please talk to her, Mrs. Weasley,“ Isabelle asked tentatively.

“You can go try, although she doesn‘t do a lot of talking these days.“

They walked up the stairs into Olivia‘s room. Billy knocked once he reached there. He saw Olivia sitting on the bed, but she was not like he had ever seen her alive. She looked terrifyingly skinny and pale. There were shadows under her brown eyes, like she had not slept in days. She sat in the fetal position, shivering slightly, looking up when they entered the room, not saying anything.

“Olivia, how are you?“ Billy asked.

She did not answer, but shook her head and looked away. No one said anything for a few minutes until, unexpectedly, Olivia broke the silence.

“I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to live. It makes no sense, but it’s like I’m struggling to do anything. It’s so difficult, physically and mentally, for me to do anything. There’s something holding me back from living, a physical weight that wasn’t there before,“ she said and started sobbing. Billy put his arms around her, making note of how skinny her waist had gotten.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,“ he said soothingly.

Isabelle wandered over to Olivia’s dresser and picked up a newspaper.

“Billy, look at this,“ she said, sounding worried. She handed him the paper and he began to read. It was a report on the murders of Bailey Green.

“This woman, we talked to her, the day we-you know,“ he said.

Isabelle nodded gravely.

“She’s a murderer? But she seemed so nice, the dog and the necklace,“ Billy said.

“We need to talk to Fairewell,“ Isabelle said and Billy agreed. They both said goodbye to Olivia and snuck out before they were seen by Ava.

“Wait, Isabelle, there’s a serial killer loose, maybe we shouldn’t just walk down the street trying to get killed.”

“ We'll go the back way, cut through people’s yards. And it’s broad daylight no one kills someone at four in the afternoon.”

They strolled down the streets hyper aware of any noise around them. There was a noise and Billy grabbed Isabelle’s wrist pulling her behind a tree.

“It’s a car, its gone,” she said looking rather shaken.

Finally they reached Fairewell‘s house and Billy knocked. Fairewell answered, hurrying to let them in.

“You scared me, I wasn’t expecting visitors,” he said once inside. “Billy, this is a pleasant surprise. I haven't seen you in months.”

Billy was perplexed, he and Isabelle went to visit Fairewell a month ago. Then it dawned on him: since their plan worked, since Olivia never died, in this timeline they never visited Fairewell, and he would never remember their visit.

“Mr. Fairewell, we have to talk to you about something important,” Billy said.

“My dear boy, please call me Steven.”

“Yes, Steven, do you know what this is?” Billy asked, pulling the Time Machine out from under his coat.

“Yes, why do you have it?” He asked.

Billy and Isabelle explained everything, the alternate timeline, how they talked to the murderer, how Olivia wasn’t supposed to be alive.

Fairewell stood up.

“The time machine was never really meant to be used. I never dreamed that it would work as well as it did. But you yourselves have seen firsthand the dangers of meddling with time. I presume you understand what must be done now. You must go back in time, and bring back the original timeline. The one only you both remember. You have to go back and kill Olivia, and make sure you do not under any circumstances talk to the murderer,” Fairewell said. He did not look angry at them.

“I don’t understand, how did a small conversation with the woman turn her into a murderer?” Isabelle asked.

“I don’t know but something must have changed in her timeline when you talked to her. Sometimes the smallest actions have the biggest impacts,” Fairewell said. “Now you both must be off, to the date of Olivia’s death.”

Billy punched in the date again, putting on the time machine and gripping Isabelle’s hand. Once again they were transformed back and Billy landed in his kitchen a few months prior. For the third time he listened to his mother’s conversation about his sister’s birthday. He once again said he needed to see Isabelle for something important, feeling extreme deja vu. Running and meeting her once again at the old signpost they set off, however instead of going to the park, they decided to go to an extremely quiet and rather dodgy alleyway. It was completely deserted and they were out of sight from the main street. Once there they sat leaning against an old brick wall, breathing heavily from the running.

“Are you ready, Billy?” Isabelle asked.

Billy nodded an odd feeling in his stomach. He felt rather nauseous knowing what he was about to do. Isabelle seemed to guess this because she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. He started texting Olivia, meaningless conversation, hating himself for what he was doing. Her responses came back quickly until he asked her what she wanted to do this weekend. She started to type and all of a sudden stopped. He knew what happened. He knew what he did. He collapsed into Isabelle’s arms, full of guilt and sorrow. Tears poured down his face, but he did not care. She put the time machine back on and they were transported back to Fairewell’s house.

Once there Billy sat down on the sofa and Isabelle sat next to him. Fairewell sat across from them.

“You did a very brave thing, Billy,” he said. “You must be wondering why what happened happened.”

Billy did not answer. At that moment he did not know nor care why some things had worked and others did not. He did not care about anything.

“The past cannot really be changed, just accepted. You can’t fix things like that, Billy,” Fairewell went on, sadly. “You can’t bring back the dead, they’re gone. But you can keep them alive in your heart.”

Fairewell’s words seemed so meaningless right now to Billy but he knew he was right. He missed Olivia, but knew that she was up there, watching him.

This can't be over

Justice isn't on my side

I tried to shut my jaw, not taste the flavor, nothing to savor

But this poison apple is dry,

Love drained and gave me injury

Like a raisin under a light bulb

Your sword pierced me gingerly

The world is now afraid and dull

You clipped my wings

Made the great eagle laugh

Time to begin pulling strings

Horrify the flightless bird, tear it in half

Puppy love is against reality

The scale tipped in favor of hate

Ignore my bitter dying plea

Just place the rotten apple on my plate

SAVOR this, your youth my child,

the BULB will bloom and become a flower

and AGAINST your better judgement

this experience will soon be OVER.

LAUGH freely, readily, openly,

your joy is the APPLE of my eye.

in LOVE, and in peace I beg you persist

lest the nature of this world HORRIFY

and set upon you disastrous expectations.

But still do not allow

INJURY AGAINST yourself,

or those you know you should protect,

remember the EAGLE in all her beauty,

still kills when it is necessary,

do not IGNORE the wicked things that people do

lest the SWORD of JUSTICE fall upon you, too.

Live cautiously, but do not be AFRAID,

and remember the deadliest POISON

often has a pleasant FLAVOR.

Be wary and keep yourself guarded.

A PUPPY will grow quickly and become an old hound

grapes not used for wine, dry up and become RASINs

and so in my state there is no wisdom I can give,

that will tip the SCALE in your favor,

or even mean anything to you.

Despite that I have faith you will be fine.

I *savor* that light the *bulb* gives,

I *savor* that light the *bulb* gives,I *savor* that light the *bulb* gives,

I *laugh,* and *love* my little light!

But everytime you *begin* you have to end,

I *ignore,* and fight *against,* *over* and over,

I *horrify* and cause *injury* but I am *afraid* of *justice.*

My *poison* will finally be meet with a *sword,*

Leaving only a *scale* behind,

Letting that *eagle* fly free.

I wanted to savor the moment. Wrap it up in paper and put it in my pocket. Then, a light bulb lit up in my dim brain. It would take only a camera, a pen, and a willing heart. Against all odds, I would climb over the wall I had placed in my mind and heart. I ran down the street, past a laughing couple and a horrifying looking bug tanning on the sidewalk. I reached the store, running in and passing all the directions for the holiday of love. I ran and grabbed a camera, went in self checkout, and left with my brand new camera. I steered around the rotten apple core, avoiding a painful injury. I hoped whoever ate it wasn't poisoned by their evil step-mother. I walked along. I ignored the endless chatter coming from the pedestrians. I ignored the posters flapping in the wind, demanding justice for the victims of the world (although, aren't we all?). Although, I let my eyes stray and capture the moment of two boys playing with their sticks, using them as play swords as they jabbed at each other. I could almost see the ruins around them, the two crowns on top of their blond heads. They would be fighting over a simple thing like a dragon scale I bet. I would have taken the picture, but my gut told me it wasn't the right time. All the walking made me a bit hungry, so I made a small detour into the ice cream shop. The familiar smell of flavors hit me. I picked an oatmeal raisin cookie to go with my praline ice cream. It was my grandmother's favorite kind. I then started to walk again, beginning to think about the nights me and my grandmother would tell stories huddled in bed. I was afraid to start bawling in the middle of the sidewalk, so I started to run. Before I knew it, I was back to where it all started. I sat down on the grassy hill, hearing the playful bark of a puppy. I took the camera out of the package, lifted it up to my eye, and pressed the button, capturing an eagle soaring across the pink, golden sky. I set my camera on the grass, taking a long, deep breath.

Truly in the moment, I took out my little notebook from my jacket pocket, my dull pencil, and wrote,

A new day, a new beginning has arrived. Here's what happened...