A Butterfly

I’ve never seen a real butterfly before. Not until today.


That’s what happens when you grow up at a place like this. You miss all the little things. I was resting, staring at the ceiling.


That’s when I heard it. It fluttered past my makeshift window I had made years ago. As it passed, the soft sound of its wings flapping echoed throughout my room.


I jumped up and stared out my window. I didn’t hear it again after the first time, but I wanted to see what made the noise. I crawled out of my bed with fierce determination, more than I’ve had in a long time, and ran to my window. I peeked out with one eye, and that’s when I saw it.


A butterfly, as pretty as I’ve been told before this day, fluttered less than three feet from my window. It was so close, I could touch it. My heart swelled with happiness as it flew back and forth, left and right in front of me.


I wish I could’ve enjoyed the sight more but the bangs against the metal bars that are blocking me from the rest of the world jolted me away. That was my cue to turn around, though I wanted to keep staring outside. The outside world is the one place I am certain about, I don’t know where the room I’ve been sleeping in for the years even is. I turn around, and my stomach clenches at the sight of him. His evil eyes shine with joy as he sees me, and I already know he is excited to inflict more pain. I look away, staring at the walls of my horrible reality. The taunting smile from my captor fills my sight, and I am reminded yet again that I am never leaving this place. My wings have been clipped.

As I Stand Here

An emotion is a funny thing. We all know that they can be there, but we don’t know how they come to be or why we have them. We’re moved by our emotions, and it seems that everything anyone does is motivated by them. As of right now though, I don’t feel anything. I feel like I should be feeling something. I wonder if that makes me crazy? Or a sociopath? Or do I just not care anymore?




I snap out of my haze to look around. Everyone is dressed in black and tears are drenching their faces and napkins. I bite my lip out of awkwardness as I realize I am the only person not paying attention to the ceremony. I look away from the crowd of people in front of me to look at the picture right next to me that’s blown way too big for comfort. He was smiling, but I knew better than that. His brown eyes held the pain of a thousand men. His sleek hair was fake, to cover up the fact that he had none. His paleness was edited out, and he was made to look tan like he did before he got sick. Why am I the only one bothered by this picture? Does no one else see?


My father takes a step down from the stand, pain etched clearly into every part of his face. It was clear he is hurting, but who wasn’t? Well, I guess just me. He turns his head towards me and waves towards the stand, signaling my turn. I have been dreading this moment since the day I was told I had to do this. I don’t want to, but I also don’t have a choice. I take a deep breath, stand up from my chair, and slowly walk towards the stand. Every step I take, it seems to be getting further away. Out of frustration, I close my eyes and grab a hold of the stand. Whatever happens now is solely up to fate.


I open my eyes, and everyone is staring at me with their own creepy pairs. Anyone could tell in my spot that they were all holding their breath, as if they didn’t know what to expect. I laughed a little: it is a funny sight.


I started to speak with a smile on my face, “You know, I still don’t know what to say. I still don’t feel like he’s even left yet. Everyone is expecting me to showcase all these sad emotions, all this anger, but I just don’t feel anything like that. He was my best friend. Of course I miss him. But at the same time, I’m glad he’s gone. He was in constant pain, and no one could tell but me. He smiled for you all and made sure to not let anyone worry. I had seen through it all though. He’s not in pain anymore, and he sure as hell isn’t faking for anyone anymore. This to me is just a relief. I’ll love him for life, but I’m glad he’s gone.”


The gasps and whispers were instantaneous. I shrug and step down from the stand. I look at my dad, who is more shocked than anything, and my mom’s anger is written all over her face. I stood down and looked into the open casket. Everything about him looks wrong, but I knew it is still my Brian. I hold the end of his casket and stare down at my deceased half and whisper knowing this is the last time I’ll be seeing him in person, “I love you big brother, I don’t think I ever really told you that enough.”

In the Spirit of Halloween...

Let the Night Bring You Sweet Dreams

     When the old woman with wispy gray hair saw the baby at her doorstep, she was tempted to leave the child to die. The old woman never liked children and never had or wanted any of her own, but she was not cruel enough to leave the child. She would have gotten rid of the scoundrel, but no one lived in the woods where the old woman’s cottage sat, so she hesitantly took the baby in. When the old woman first held the baby, she did not gaze, but rather studied the child with disgust, expecting the vomit to erupt at any moment. Despite the old woman’s resentment for the child, even the old woman could not deny the baby was beautiful. She was a perfect baby girl, chubby cheeks and smooth, pale skin. The little tuft of hair on her head was a soft black and her mouth was the prettiest shade of pink. She was the doll every little girl wanted when the old woman was a child, every little girl except for the old woman, of course. Every part of the baby resembled an angel, except for her eyes, which were the purest obsidian, the color of the darkest night.
     The old woman’s disgust for the child lessened, though rather slowly. But as the old woman’s feeling of disgust lessened, a feeling of unsettlement began to settle in its place. The old woman could not deny the baby appeared an angel, but whenever she looked at the baby, the back of her neck would begin to tingle. The child merely sat. She did not cry, babble, giggle nor coo. She sat. Lips closed. Emotionless. Silent as the night. The old woman told herself she did not mind this. She did not desire a screaming red-faced abomination, but the sickening, prickling sensation would not go away.
     The old woman created a makeshift cradle from an old wooden drawer, which she kept by the fire. Every night, the old woman would sit by the fire and rock the child in her arms back and forth, back and forth, the soft cadence slowly lulling the baby to sleep. The old woman could not bring herself to gaze at the child, so she would stare at the child until the baby fell asleep. She would then look into the fire until the last ember’s glow faded into the night. Then she would take the little child and lay her in the cradle. Soon after, the old woman would fall into a dreamless sleep.
     One night, the old woman sang the baby a raspy lullaby and watched as the baby slowly drifted to sleep. She watched the baby for a few more moments in silence, then turned toward the dancing flames, entranced by its flickering tongues. When she finally turned back to the baby, she was surprised to find the small child staring back at her with wide dark eyes. The old woman frowned and said, “Go to sleep now, little child.” The baby stared back, expressionless. The old woman repeated, ever so slightly kinder this time, “Go to sleep now and let the night bring you sweet dreams.” The baby remained frozen. Then she smiled, but her eyes didn’t twinkle like the stars in the clear night sky. Her lips simply curved up at the sides, her eyes still and unchanging. The old woman found this a bit strange. This was the first time she had seen the baby smile, and she had not been expecting this. As the last ember’s glow faded into the night, the old woman laid the little child in her crib. The old woman then took her candle and walked back over to the crib to find the peculiar smile still on the child’s lips. Then the old women headed off to bed to fall into a dreamless sleep.
     The next night, as the old woman rocked the baby to sleep, she again became distracted by the flickering, scarlet tongues. When she looked back down at the baby, she saw the child’s wide obsidian eyes again, but this time, she noticed the slight smile on the baby’s lips from the night before. “Go to sleep now, my little child, and let the night bring you sweet dreams,” the old woman said to the baby. The child stared back, unmoving. Then the corners of her mouth curled upwards, ever so slightly, her eyes unchanging. The woman turned back to the fire and as the last ember’s glow faded into the night, she laid the little baby back into her cradle. The old woman then took her candle and walked over to the crib where she stared at the little child’s smile. Then she fell into a dreamless sleep.
     On the third night, the old woman rocked the baby to sleep. She stared at the flickering tongues until the last ember’s glow faded into the night. Then the old woman carried the little baby to her cradle. The old woman went back to her rocking chair and taking her candle, turned back to the cradle, only to find it empty. The old woman searched every corner of her small cottage, but she could not find the child. She checked her bedroom, looking behind her pillow and under the bed. Still, the baby was not to be seen. As the old woman walked back down the hallway to check the crib once more, she saw a faint glow and a soft flickering. The old woman slowly approached the growing light, and finally came into view of a roaring fire and sitting in front of it... a little child. The old woman stood, unmoving, and then the little baby turned her head. The child’s smile grew into a leer with a full set of glowing white teeth. Then the baby spoke. “Go to sleep now and let the night bring you sweet dreams.”

Alida's Tree

From the beginning of time came the god of the sun of an ancient civilization, located in present day Netherlands . The name of Zon shook mountains and tore through earth, only for his own satisfaction of destroying. Zon was created out of nothing, but he only ruled everything because he generated a mass amount of fear within people. Zon’s twin brother, Maan, presided over the moon. The brothers watched over humankind on the planet Earth. Zon and Maan were polar opposites, Zon known for being boastful and arrogant, while Maan was more withdrawn.
For thousands of years, Maan thought Zon to be an unfit ruler. It troubled him to think the Earth’s fate resided in such a loathsome leader. Anger steamed and boiled within Maan. One day, he developed a plan to rid the world of Zon forever. Maan knew if he made a direct attack, Zon would defeat him. So he did something unexpected.
     About five thousand years ago from today, an ordinary human was having an extraordinary dream. Alida could have sworn the moon was talking in her dream. She heard him say, “I grant you the powers of a sorceress, to overthrow the tyrant Zon. Do this and be showered with riches beyond imagination. Fail, and receive a fate worse than death.”
    When Alida awoke, she soon found the message in the dream to be true. Alida had the power of a great sorceress and was able to manipulate anything to her will.
    For several weeks she taught herself how to use her new powers. Through her training, she learned from many suitable teachers who specialized in magic. As it seemed she was exceptionally gifted when using magic, it was not long until she became a powerful sorceress and was well known throughout the country. Every night she would receive a dream from Maan urging her to destroy Zon but her response was always, “When I am ready, I will fight him.”
    She was kindhearted and fair to the people of the Netherlands and she only used her magic for the benefit of the people, but after many seasons, her kindness turned into bitterness. Alida began to wonder why she should be so kind and helpful to these people when they had done nothing for her in return. Paired with the insistence from the moon god to kill Zon, she was driven over the edge.
    At first, it was small things. Ignoring distress calls of failing crops or letting the sick die. Villagers pestered and begged for Alida to help, but she was compelled indoors and kept to herself. The dilemma of wanting to lash out at every person she met or to assist the public was a constant storm within her mind. Eventually, one side won, and she began to attack at the most insignificant of things. She caused a few injuries to the villagers when they wouldn’t stop knocking on her wooden door. As time passed, Alida eventually burned houses, destroyed villages, and made it storm for days on end. Maan began to notice and confronted her in a dream.
    “Why are you destroying trees when you could be destroying my brother instead?” He asked. Something in Alida’s brain snapped. “Do not tell me what to do, you lazy oaf! With all my power, I could destroy you instead!”
    Maan roared, “Fool! Did you fail to heed my warning? Fear tomorrow, for it will be the first in eternal suffering.”
    When Alida woke to find she was all in one piece, she brushed off Maan’s threat and continued her day. While terrorizing locals, she began to feel nauseous.
    “That’s odd,” She remarked, “I do not get sick. I am certainly the most powerful being in the world! In fact, most might consider me a god.” She smirked and bellowed for all to hear, “Fear me, humans! For I am the goddess Alida of the Earth.”
    With this remark, thunder came rolling ahead in the sky and a violent flash of bright lightning struck the crown of her head. The voltage ran down to her feet and into the ground.
    “Who could have done such a thing?” She shrieked, her angry outburst echoing throughout the village.
    When there was no reply, Alida picked up her foot to walk and continue to pester the villagers, but her foot did not budge. She glanced down and noticed roots wrapping around her feet. She screeched and tried using bursts of magic to tear through the growing roots, but it persisted in wrapping around her. Bark and wood piled up against her skin and climbed up to her neck. A crowd began to gather around Alida to see what all the commotion was about.
    “Help me foolish mortals!” Alida wailed, “Help me or be tortured and destroyed!”
    The villagers murmured amongst themselves, but no one moved. Her cries of protest were soon muffled when the bark was fastened over her mouth. When Alida was covered completely, she began to grow branches and leaves. A voiced carried by the wind whispered through the villagers’ ears, “And here you will stay in eternal consciousness, incapable of breathing but forever unable to die. Here you will reside until the end of time.”
    The growing of the roots stopped and in place of Alida was a full grown English Oak tree. A still silence fell over the village.
    To this day, Alida’s tree still stands in the heart of the town. Legend states if you press an ear to the trunk of the tree, you can hear her wail, still screaming for somebody to help her.

The War Cry

Ethan McFerren

Mr. Koch

English 9H

May 18, 2015

The War Cry

            Chinadyawaho, or Waho as his friends called him, was deeply saddened because of the cruel desires of the foreigners. When the foreigners had arrived in their beat-up, desperate looking wooden ships, their only thoughts were of pity, kindness, and friendliness. Waho’s Cheyenne ancestors had aided them, listening to their odd accented questions about building proper shelters and where to camp to avoid predators. They learned how to plant and preserve their precious crops of maize, carrots, and cabbage in the fertile young land. The foreigners had learned and grown; only too much. They knew the layout of the land, and where the camps were. They had developed selfish desires and plotted on their own friends, seeking out how to eliminate them. Before they had known it, they were pushed out of their true and rightful land, and outmatched in weaponry and numbers. This resulted in the natives being crowded into highly guarded and supervised complexes, these small, uncomfortable, and musty places of life, where innocent and guiltless dark skinned men, women and children were kept. They were treated like inmates in a jail, but why? They were Native Americans, who had helped their so-called friends. The only true Americans as Waho thought, the free and proud and… imprisoned.

They were like doves in a bronze cage and dolphins in an unforgiving net, trapped helplessly. The reservations were horrible. They were constantly being watched with no privacy whatsoever. The guards had specific and strict patrol duties and night shifts. This was their reward for helping their friends.

            Soon, this would all change. Navajo Nation, the biggest Native American reservation that covered the corners of Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico, was powerful. They consisted of close to 200,000 vengeful Native Americans. They had the numbers, the will, the want, and the need, to escape from their chains of shame. They needed much more space, a place where the natives could live like they wanted to, dress like they wanted to, have their own laws, and their own government. They needed a place where proud green forest rose high, a place of crisp, fresh wood for tools, filled with singing birds and leaping deer, fat turkeys, and silver wolves. A place that would conceal their elaborate and decorative teepees, with cool aqua pools, the overwhelming and rich aroma of venison cooking, the chopping of woodpeckers. They needed a home.

This was all a dream, until now.

The day of escape was near to come. Waho had talked to hundreds of strong and courageous men who hailed from tribes like the Navajo, Cheyenne, Sioux, and many others. They wanted to try to release themselves from their unrightfully determined predicament. Waho had to admit that they were weakened, but not dead. The nails of their captivity were tightened once, but now coming loose. The bars were holding, but not for much longer. The keys were dangling, but they weren’t out of reach.

He was stirring and mixing the unrest into something that would hopefully change the future of all Native Americans. He had heard tales from his equally optimistic son Jaulawena about the government plummeting, the economy struggling, the leaders rule shaky. If this wasn’t a better time to ambush, then when was?

            It was time for the retake, revival, and reawakening of Native Americans. It was time to regain what was rightfully theirs. It was time for the Native Americans to free the helpless natives from their reservations. Waho’s grandfather once said: “The difference between a wise man and a fool is one priceless asset: their wits.” Waho was growing old, but his dreams were not yet fulfilled. They were very close.

           

Works Cited

http://www.infoplease.com/toptens/indianreservations.html

The First Step

Hey Guys!

Here is a story that I made and sorry it is really long. This is a prequel of my poem, The Final Stand. I highly recommend that you read it first before reading this story, as it may help you understand this story a bit more. You can read it right here:

http://irockenglish.blogspot.com/2014/10/the-final-stand.html

Either way, thanks for reading this and hope you guys enjoy!

-Harish Karumuri

_______________________________________________________

Date: March 10, 3026

Location: Gamma Ray Cloud

R.A.: 05h 34m 33s

Dec.: +22:00:55

Houston Time: 3:48

In front of the Massive Terrier X-1 Photon Cruiser -a prime spacecraft of the fleet at my home planet of Xenonia - was a plethora of Gamma Radiation, an energy at the top of our radioactive wave chart. It powers our cities for years, if not decades. However, this particular source could run our planet for at least a century. This ball of gas and radioactivity is what our planet runs on, and without it our city would be devoid of the technological miracles that have been bestowed to us by the scientists of our planet. We have cures to many diseases, clean energy, and sustainable crops due to the energy harnessed within this destructive force. With my family being grown in the Pre-Bestowed time of Xenonia, a time when plague and famine had came across the planet, I felt a need to help our terrestrial sphere continue its prosperity.

“Captain, how’s the energy?” I hear, from my best friend and partner down at the base.

“Navtek, everything seems to be going well. Preparing to take in energy. And how many times have I told you to call me Clayton?” I hear a chuckle from his side as I begin to take out my Energy Absorbtors to take in the abundance of energy from the Gamma Radiation. Energy begins to first fuel up my spacecraft and then begins to store the excess. From my dock inside the shuttle I see the gauge of the Absorbtors slowly grow. But at the last second, the gauges start to show an excess amount of radiation and error messages along with red flashing lights everywhere. If you haven’t seen any good action movies, this means something bad is going to happen.

In this case, the gamma radiation was so much stronger than what I originally anticipated. The energy was seeping out of the Absorbtors and harming the ship itself.

“Sergeant! What is going on?” I hear through a crackly intermission.

“Navtek, it seems as if the energy source came into the infrastructure of the ship. Run a diagnostic now!”

Within seconds came a response. “The assumption you had was indeed correct. However, the radiation is much too extreme for a body to handle. It is required that the ship breaks apart for the escape of the energy as well. ”

“Then what the heck am I supposed to do?”

“First, wear the radiation armor. Then steer the ship to the coordinates you are about to receive.”

The pair of numbers are sent to me and the coordinates take me to some unknown planet. “What coordinates are these!” I scream in panic as I quickly put on the radiation exosuit. In my 5 years as an energy collector, this is my moment of most panic.

“Sergeant, getting back to Xenonia is literally death. This was the closest planet we could give you.”

With no other option, I hop on to driver’s seat and rush to the planet as fast as I can. “Houston, tell me the details of this planet!”

“Planet name: Un-own. Popula-on: Un-own. Biome: Un-now-.”

“IT’S BREAKING UP,” I scream at the top of my lungs with chaos going on around  me. Knowing that my communication was about to be cut off, I start to take precautionary actions.

“Sur-ival Chanc-: 1.2%” my computer practically shouts at me.

The two words to describe my feelings were, “Oh crap.”

“Out of all the things I hear, that’s the one thing that comes out of you, you stupid computer!? The one thing that totally can motivate me to survive!?” I practically scream.

Everything afterward is just an indecipherable mess of static. I guess cursing at the computer made my situation even worse. I throw my hands in the air in frustration and assess the predicament I was in.

I have no other option. I have to go to this planet and survive. As I wait in anticipation, my ship suddenly goes into overdrive.

Date: March 10th, 3026

Location: Planet Unknown

R.A. 06h 34m 33sec

Dec. +23:01:56

Houston Time: 4:50?

As I painfully open my eyes, I see a desolate land with withered trees outside the cockpit. Toward the back of this cockpit is a blown up and fragmented stern. The ringing sensation in my ears recedes. As I make my way into my ship and look for any undamaged gadgets, a display on ship’s front shows the outside air quality  as anything but breathable. If I go outside, I die. Luckily the cockpit itself stayed intact, retaining the oxygen inside.

I soon decide to scavenge the interior, looking for anything that I can use: mainly oxygen, food, water, and weapons. After a good while of searching, I find a small survival bunker [Thank the lords!], which gives me a week’s worth of nutrition packs with water, a small pistol with several cartridges, a blunt copper dagger, and the one thing I need the most: oxygen. There’s only one problem- I only have three days worth of it.

Three days.

I have to get out of here in three days if I ever want to see home.

See my family.

See Xenonia.

I put on my oxygen mask to head to the doors, leading to a world that I have no idea of- with no sense of what obstacles are going to come across my way, no idea of how I was going to get home, and no knowledge of surviving with any creatures that may be out there.

I take one more deep breath, and open the metal door. A screech of air releases and comes outward, causing red-orange dust to puff around and make my mask become unclear. Soon after I wipe it off, I experience a fearful awe that comes across me.

The sky was nearly dark with small sections of a yellow, glowing rock, dimly fading with a small source of light. Around and below me is a blood red crust that makes me feel miniscule, inferior, and disgraceful. Some sections seemed to be a poisonous and vicious gunk that threatened to melt the soul away from anyone who ventured into it. And across some edges were pools of molten magma, daring for something to come venture into the scalding sections. Some areas even had shriveled up plants and trees thriving for water and nutrition. In short, this place was as if Mars had crashed into the Hell.

As I walk in, I feel the swish of an arrow just above my ear.

So I fling my pistol out expecting to see the most horrifying creature alive. Well, I’m not sure if I should even call it a creature. The only thing that was visible was a charcoal black skeleton with one of the most powerful bows ever invented - a Manalyn Framed, Ferrouskyn stringed bow (Did I mention I got an A+ in Weapon Identification in college?). I had to be extremely lucky that he missed.

I shot him several times, and that only made him seem to rage even more. His body started to light up as a blinding flash came about. Then, I saw no longer a skeleton, but a flaring skeleton monster, with teeth sharper than a granite-sharpened damascus steel sword. His body grew to at least seven feet inside. When I look even closer, it seems as if it has a black smog releasing from him as his focus began to come on me.

Crap.

I began to once again shoot wildly, trying to hit every part of his evil, skeletal body. However, this came to no avail.

Then I took out the one weapon I had left. The copper dagger with a dull tip was what my life came down to. I had no other choice. I chucked the worthless piece of metal at him as hard as I could and when the knife struck him, a piercing screech shot out of him and his body slowly shriveled to ash leaving only one thing.

The copper dagger.

I slowly creep toward the body, hoping that it won’t somehow magically pop back to life in a more bloodthirsty form. But as I reach the death spot the glint of the dagger was the only thing found in the mound of dark ashes. I pick up this strange shard and begin to marvel at the power that seems to be inside.

That is, until when a hard thump of a club hits my head. The last thing I hear is a gruff man saying, “Dang it Billy! Boss told us to keep him alive!”

Date: March 11th?, 3026

Location: Planet Unknown

R.A. 06h 34m 33sec

Dec. +23:01:56

Houston Time: ?:??

“Hey Boss, I think the guy’s waking up.” I hear the same gruff voice.

I hear another unfamiliar voice, assuming it’s Billy’s saying, “I told you I didn’t kill him!”

I try to pretend to remain sleeping so I could eavesdrop into the conversation, but a third unfamiliar voice, “Wake up Clayton. We know you’ve already been awake for the past five minutes.”

What the. They know my name!

The same unfamiliar voice replied, “Yes. We know your name. That’s probably why I said it.”

I swear, these guys are freaking mind readers. I manage to open my eyes and sit up to find myself in a meager, metal-walled room with computers and flashing lights. Each screen had different things on it, like a security camera. The first camera had a picture of the atmosphere. The second was a picture of a fortress, seeming to be made out of a refined sort of the crust that I had crash landed on. A third screen trailed a buff man which seemed to embody evil. The man had a dark, ashen aura seeping out of his body. He was wearing obsidian armor with damascus iron boots, and a light, flexible black undercloth. His face showed a evil pair of eyes with no pupils showing. His blood-red colored hair was tied in an ornate fashion with jewels and gold, showing his vile face which was a stygian skin on top of the evilness that was already in him. The camera followed him until he reached a weak and undernourished boy. The boy moved his lips in fear, as if he had done something wrong. Then in a flash, the evil man took out a shadow iron sword and decapitated the poor little child.

I can’t say any more about what he did at that moment.

And on the fourth screen was a broken down Terrier X-1 Photon Cruiser.

“Wait a second, why is my Terrier X-1 Photon Cruiser on the screen!” I yell in frustration.

The third man who had spoken responded with, “Uuuuuuuuummmm. You should follow me.”

But then I realized I was talking without an oxygen mask. “Before you say anything else, where is my oxygen mask?”

“We went to refill it. There is oxygen constantly being filled in this base so you will be fine.”

Oh. So I guess these guys are friendly. What’s this guys name anyway?

“Yes, we are friendly. And the name is Ramhart. I am part of the Pure Blood clan. We are here in order to bring prosperity to this land.”

Once again, freaking mind readers! “What’s the name of this planet?”

“Welcome to planet Earth, or nicknamed by us as the Underworld.”

Yikes. I’ve only heard legends about this place by elders who escaped from the planet and fled to Xenonia. “And why do you want me?”

“You took down a monstrous force that kills three of our members every time it approaches. You took it down with no effort.”

“Well, I di-”

“Don’t say it was the copper dagger! There’s something inside of you that can help us. You may be...” Ramhart began to mumble off.

“What was that?”

“Oh nothing. Let me introduce you to the leaders.”

After what I think an hour has elapsed, I finally get an understanding of the “Pure Blood” clan. So this group has five different leaders, and each of them have mastered their minds and bodies and are now able to control one of the six elements. Ramhart has mastered spirit, giving him telekinetic powers, so he’s the only one who can mind read. The group also made him the general leader, so that’s who “Boss” was. A slender and fast girl, Bryze, controls the element of wind. Because of her, we have the oxygen in this area. A girl named Blaise pretty much bends fire, so she gives the heat when we need it. The Gruff guy, named Thomas, has electricity, so I think it’s self explanatory on how he helps the base. Finally, Billy can control water, so he gives the group hydration.

There was one more element which I questioned them about, but they all pretended like they didn’t hear it. It was frustrating, but I didn’t really want to get on the bad side of some people who could wreck my face in a few seconds.

There were also other members from crashed planes and refugees from the so called “Death Age” who helped the cause here as well. They didn’t manage to be able to “master” themselves, but they help out the place by developing new tools and such.

After being bored in the room I awoke to for a long time, I got up and and checked the place around. Despite what I originally thought, this place was gigantic and had intricate hallways and many different rooms. In the midst of roaming around, I heard Ramhart speaking from a small distance away. As I ventured closer to the sound, it seemed as if the leaders were having a discussion.

“Is Clayton the one?” Bryze says.

Wait, what? They’re talking about me? What do I have that can make this place great?

Then I hear a sound that I never thought that I would hear. Navtek.

“Clayton is your guy. He’s been one with nature since childhood. He loves animals and he has a huge garden back here. He will help Earth come back to how it was,” he said through a transmission.

I couldn’t hear anymore. I could not listen in. I immediately left the area. All that “unknown” crap he gave me about this planet. He knew the ins and outs of this place. He never wanted me to get back home. He wanted me to fight for some bloody cause. But then I heard my name once again.

“Clayton, I know you’re listening in on this. I’m sorry man. I had to do this. You know what? Xenonia is on its tipping point too. We may not have plague or hunger, but we have another problem. Greed. Wars are breaking out between us and many countries. There’s overpopulation. We need more room to grow. That’s why you are here.”

I just ran away as the ending click came. Thomas was coming out and trying to send a stun ball my way, but as he threw it, a trap door opened below my feet into a dim area. As I was falling, the door was going back into place and the only place I could go was down.

---

I seem to be waking up with paining eyes way too much within the past few, hours? Days? I don’t even know at this point. I get up off this dusty floor and I find myself in this old and decrepit room. On the far side of the room are podiums, each one with a small symbol on them. I come closer and see that the first one had a Purple circle with a four pointed star in the middle. The one after had strokes of white coming forward as if it showed a sense of wind. The one after was remarkably like a fire burst with colors of crimson and orange. The next had a lightning bolt on it with a golden yellow. The one after had waves of water.

The final one had a tree with branches that came forward at me and was calling my name. And what was really different about this one was that there was a sword handle sticking out of the top. It had an intricate carving of branches and leaves. There was a force belonging to this sword that was longing me to pull it out. I went forward to grab it and I clasp my hands around the handle.

As I tried to pull it up, the sword remained stiff and refused to come up no matter what I tried.

I pull with great strength for an extreme amount of time and begin to frustrate myself. After what I think is an hour, I give up and try to head back.

No need to though. Blaise and Bill manage to come in and help me out. They said nothing. They just get me out, take me to my room and left. Nothing more than that. I lay down on my bed, thinking about everything that happened and just fall asleep with the confusion in my head.

Date: March ??, 3026

Location: Planet Earth

R.A. 06h 34m 33sec

Dec. +23:01:56

Houston Time: ?:??

“BEEEEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEP”

I jolt awake immediately. Red flashing lights with ear-splitting sounds scream at me. A worker tells me to go to the conference room, the same room where I heard Navtek. Everyone was squished into the area to see a giant video message from the ominous man I had seen on the security camera.

“Hello there Pure bloods,” he said with a mocking tone. “My name is Oklarth Tenebis. It has come to my attention that you are attempting to steal my kingdom. If anyone tries to steal it, I punish them. So, I have done exactly that. Take a look at these people.” Gasps came out from all around the room. Each of the clan leaders were there, tied to a pole surrounded with billions of things that could kill them. Things from flame throwers, to tear gas, to motion detecting turrets ready to fire at the slightest bit of movement. “I have heard that these people are leading this cause. If you want them back, you have one thing to do. Fight. Otherwise, say goodbye. You have 2 hours starting now. May you lose!” He followed that with the most menacing laugh heard by any being’s ears. A timer came afterwards.

I had no idea what do or or say. But then I saw a small, green pathway, similar to the one on GPS, urging me to follow it like the yellow brick road. With the shock I was in, I decide to follow it. It leads me down some stairs and directly to the sword.

The Sword.

I was about to curse and scream in frustration, but I heard a voice. A small voice.  

Ramhart.

“Pull-the-sword.” I hear his croaking voice. “Pull-the-sword.”

It all begins to click in my head. Spirit. Wind. Fire. Lightning. Water. Life. A newfound will comes into me. Ramhart is right. I will pull this sword out of this podium. I will not be stopped. These are my friends at stake. This is the planet at stake.

This is Xenonia at stake.

I will be the warrior of life.

I take a good look into the sword and grasp the handle. As I pull my hand upward, there is a copper sword ready to destroy a skeleton army.