“I don’t feel very brave.”
“Brave people hardly ever know they’re brave. But now, you’ve got to do the bravest thing of all.”
“What’s that?”
“Keep on living. Find your joy again and hold it close to you. Go back to making the world a little better for everyone you meet.”
She sniffed and shook her head. “I don’t think I can. After what happened, how can it ever be the same again?”
I’d been asking myself the same question for two weeks, and there was only one true answer. “It won’t be the same, Penny, and it may never stop hurting, but that doesn’t mean your life can’t be as fine and good as before. I’ll be around to help, and so will your parents, and your friends, and the people at your church, everyone whose life you’ve touched. Sometimes you don’t save your world, Penny. Sometimes your world saves you.”
~}~~~{~
Fifteen years ago. Penny recovered, and we all recovered with her, though the scars, physical and otherwise, still itch from time to time, just so we don’t forget them.
She was high school valedictorian, graduated from Auburn University summa cum laude in international affairs, and landed a job in Washington on our junior senator’s staff, where she’s earned a reputation as a problem-solver.
The children murmur and scribble, and the wasp departs the light fixtures to click stubbornly against a window, mere inches from escape.
I lean back in my chair and survey, for what must be the hundredth time, the framed picture Penny sent last week. It captures an historic moment: a table full of dignitaries, signing a peace treaty everybody said could never happen. She’s standing in the background, among the diplomatic aides and other supporting players, a petite girl with a dazzling smile, playfully flashing a “V” for victory. There’s a note handwritten on the photo’s margin:
To my favorite teacher. Still saving the world, one smile at a time. Love, Penny.
~}~~~{~
The girl blinked back a tear. It seems pain was not bound to any one world. She felt a longing in her chest, and she looked away.
“Tears are the mark of healing,” said her master.
“No! I will not let it go. Not now…not ever. They killed my parents!” She clenched her fists and rerouted her sadness into the hate she loved. She rounded on her master. “I will avenge them, no matter how long it takes.”
A flash of anger in Master Tok’s eyes warned her she had crossed a line. But his face firmed and no rebuke came. “Learn.” He pointed back to the pool.
She narrowed her eyes.
“LEARN!”
Begrudgingly, she turned back to the already icing pool of water. She saw another girl studying. A striking, black-haired girl about her own age.
~}~~~{~
Summer Snaps—Keven Newsome
A deleted scene from the novel Winter
Winter raked her hand through her jet-black hair, forehead to crown. She gritted her teeth as she stared at the college Algebra homework on her desk. She traced the variables again with her pencil, willing the answer to emerge. But it didn’t.
She slammed her pencil down and grunted. “I hate this!”
She got up and turned on the TV. Perhaps a few mind-numbing minutes of cartoons would help her concentrate. After grabbing a soda from the micro-fridge, she curled up in her papasan chair.
Something tingled at the base of her skull…a small nudging. She scratched the hairline at the back of her neck. Her eyes trained to her roommate’s desk and to the jumble of keys and girly key chains sitting beside the pink laptop. Somehow she knew the keys were there, though Summer usually took them with her. Why did she leave them? Whatever. None of my business. She turned back to the TV and took a giant swig from her can.
A nudging…more urgent this time. Winter jumped out of the papasan as if prodded.
“Okay, stop it. I’m going. Geez. Leave me alone.”
She took two giant steps toward Summer’s desk and snatched up the keys. They clanked as they hit the bottom of the giant pocket on the thigh of her black cargo pants. She went back to her papasan, plopping down to more blissful procrastination.
A rattle of the doorknob made her turn. Summer walked in and tossed her backpack and flute case onto her frilly pink bed.
“Where have you been?” Winter asked.
“Practicing.” Summer flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder and batted her perfectly painted eyes.
“Practicing what?”
“My flute of course. I have to practice everyday. That’s part of being a music major.” Summer tilted her head and raised her eyebrows as if Winter should have already known.
“Whatever,” said Winter. “I need some help. Get over here.”
Winter left comfort behind and went back to her desk. Summer grabbed her own desk chair and rolled it over.
“What’s wrong?” Summer asked.
“This…I don’t get how to solve for these stupid variables.”
“When in doubt, cross multiply,” Summer said.
“What?”
“It’s something my teacher back home told us. Hold on.” Summer grabbed Winter’s text book and began flipping through the pages.
Winter leaned back and crossed her arms. “Why do we even need this class, anyway? I don’t foresee me cross-multiplying for variables in everyday life.”
“I don’t know. They make everyone take it.”
“It’s stupid.”
Summer laughed and tossed her hair. “Maybe. When is this due?”
“Friday,” said Winter.
“Well, at least you have a couple of days.”
Winter shook her head. “No, Summer. Tomorrow is Friday.”
Summer stopped flipping pages and stared at her. Her face paled like a porcelain doll. “You mean today is Thursday?”
“Yeah. What did you think it was?”
“Oh no…” She jumped up and rushed to her backpack on the bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Today’s my mom’s birthday. I forgot to call her.”
Winter laughed. “She’ll forgive you.”
Summer fished out her cell phone and stuck it to her ear. A moment later, her eyes widened and she pulled the phone away. She sank to her bed without having said a word.
“What’s wrong?” Winter asked.
“Nobody’s there,” Summer whispered.
“They’re probably just out.”
“On a Thursday? No. Something’s wrong.”
Winter wasn’t sure how to respond. She came to Summer’s side and put an arm around her awkwardly. “I’m sure everything is fine, Summer.”
“They never go out on Thursday. Something has to be wrong. I have to talk to them.”
“Well, you said it was her birthday. Why wouldn’t they go out?”
“They just…they just don’t, okay?”
“I think you’re overreacting just a little.”
“You don’t know them. I do. Don’t tell me I’m overreacting!”
“Okay, sorry. Do they have a cell phone?”
Summer picked up her cell again and dialed. Her face changed from soap-white to sunburn-red. Tears ran down her cheeks. She pulled the phone back down after a few seconds.
“I’m going home,” Summer said. She went to her desk and started looking around.
“Whoa! Wait a second. Let’s just calm down a little.”
Summer flung notebooks and papers to the ground. “Calm down? They might be hurt! Where are my keys?”
“You don’t need them. Your parents are fine, Summer.”
“WHERE ARE MY KEYS?” She attacked Winter’s desk.
“Are you crazy? Stop this!” Winter stood, and Summer’s keys clinked in her pocket.
Summer straightened and turned to stare at Winter. Her face glowed red and glistened with beads of sweat. Winter almost thought she saw steam rising from the sides of her head. Winter took a step back, a first when it came to her roommate. Summer advanc
ed on her, and Winter backpedaled further.
“Where are my keys, Winter? You have them, don’t you?”
“I…uh…”
“Give them to me!”
A warmth of knowing flooded Winter’s mind. Suddenly, she could see exactly how the scene before her would unfold. A premonition. Hand. Summer would put out her hand next.
Summer shoved out her hand.
I want them!
“I want them!” Summer shouted.
Hesitate. That’s what the premonition said to do. So, Winter hesitated.
Summer stepped toward her, just as she was supposed to.
Winter let the premonition guide her through the next sequence of motions, playing out exactly what was supposed to happen. Lean. Shift weight. Look at the door. Look Summer in the eyes. Look at the far side of the room. Stare. Narrow eyes. Wait.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Winter saw Summer follow her gaze. Winter held her breath, waiting for Summer to take the two steps prescribed by the premonition. Summer turned and stalked two steps toward where Winter stared.
And when she did, Winter fled into the hall.
“Shanna!” Winter shouted. She could hear Summer pounding after her.
“Give me my keys! NOW!”
“SHANNA!”
“What’s going on?” Shanna asked as she emerged from her Resident Assistant’s room. Other girls poked their heads out of cracked doors.
“Summer’s snapped! She’s trying to go home!”
Summer jumped on Winter’s back with an Amazon cry, and Winter fell to the hall floor.
“Give them to me!” Summer shrieked.
“No!”
Shanna grabbed Summer from behind. When she leaned back, both Summer and Winter came off the floor. A moment later, they crashed back down and Shanna fell on her backside.
“Calm down, Summer!” Shanna said, reaching to grab her again. “Let’s talk about this first.”
“I need to go home! Something’s wrong, I need to go!”
Shanna leaned back, putting her full weight into pulling Summer, and Summer let go this time. Winter fell to the floor. Shanna and Summer flew backward and slammed to their backs.
“Now can we go talk?” Shanna asked, panting for air.
Winter rolled over and pushed herself up to sit against the wall.
Summer wept like a baby, almost to the point of hyperventilating. Tears streaked her once-perfect makeup, making her look like a melting raccoon. “I need my mommy,” she croaked.
“I know,” Shanna said. She stood and pulled Summer to her feet.
“I tried calling, but she wouldn’t answer.” Summer leaned into Shanna’s waiting arms, and sobbed.
“Come to my room. We’ll try calling again.” Shanna rolled her eyes at Winter as they passed.
Winter sprinted back to her room to retrieve her phone and call Kaci, their friend and small group leader at the Christian Life Center, for reinforcement. Doors closed in succession as the audience retreated back to their rooms, most of them laughing, but several looking homesick and already on cell phones. One girl lingered with crossed arms and a shower basket hanging from one hand.
“Freaks,” the girl mumbled.
Winter gave her the most hateful glare she could muster. The girl returned one of her own, before prissing down the hall to the shower room.
An ember ignited in the bottom of Winter’s stomach. Winter took a deep breath and let the fumes of the fire rise through her chest and into her mind. Past mistakes now presented themselves as possible options of retaliation. Winter knew this was an ungodly line of thought, but she didn’t care. She enjoyed the feeling of power that anger and hate brought.
The base of her skull tingled again, and Winter gritted her teeth. “Fine.” She shoved the contamination back into its cell.
Just before turning away and continuing to her room, Winter noticed that the girl had failed to pull her door completely to. She looked closer and saw the door was propped open purposefully by a shoe. Winter went over and kicked the shoe back into the room before her conscience could stop her. The door clicked shut, locking automatically. She smiled as the fire inside erupted with delight.
“What are you doing?”
Winter spun around to face Kaci. The fire froze over. “Uh, nothing. Just, um…I was about to call you.”
“Shanna did. She said Summer went crazy and thought I might could help.” Kaci brushed a strand of wavy brown hair out of her face.
“Yeah. I don’t know what came over her.” Winter shifted her eyes, avoiding Kaci’s.
Kaci started walking down the hall. “Well, come on. Shanna can’t handle that kind of drama by herself.”
Winter followed. “I don’t understand why Summer overreacted so much.”
“She’s not the only one who overreacts,” Kaci said without turning.
Nudge. Winter hesitated. She turned and looked back at the locked door. Conflicting emotions battled between instinct and the right thing to do. She sighed, when the victor was not the one she wanted. Turning back, she sprinted to catch up.
“Um…can I borrow…”
“How did you stop Summer from leaving, anyway? I can’t imagine that was easy.” Kaci looked at her, brown eyes twinkling.
“I had her keys already…here in my pocket.” Winter patted the bulge on her thigh and offered Kaci a sideways grin.
Kaci laughed. “How did you know?”
Winter shrugged. “Just a feeling, I guess.”
Kaci held up her RA’s master key.
Winter snatched it and looked at the floor. “Um…thanks. I’ll be right back.”
Kaci grinned. “I had a feeling.”
~}~~~{~
Guilt and anger collided. “I do not overreact!” Gizile shouted. “What is this place? What kind of magic is this? How does it know me?” She stood. “Why do we even linger? You teach me, but not what I need to know! I can use the ring now; I should be learning to wield it. Take me home.”
When she turned, Master Tok was there with his arms crossed. He blocked her way with firmly planted feet. She saw the rebuke in her teacher’s face.
“What is this?” she asked again, pointing to the pool.
He considered her a moment. “Aquasynthesis. A combining of worlds within a pool of water.”
“And why did you bring me here?” There was more bite in the question than she intended, and she winced.
“For you to learn.”
Realizing that he would not relent, she took a deep breath and forced the anger to dissipate. Guilt found its footing instead and she sank back to the rock. Gizile pulled her cloak tight again as a wave came in and ice exploded over the surface. Two young men approached a decrepit town…
~}~~~{~
Faith’s Fire—R. L. Copple
An excerpt from the novel Reality’s Dawn
Seth turned his head my direction. “Hey Sisko, where are we going, exactly?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know.”
He frowned. “After two years, you think I would know the answer. You’re not one for making plans.”
“God’s making the plans, my friend. I’m just following along.” I pointed to the city in the valley as we crested a hill. “But I can say we’re going to that city over there. Know its name?”
Seth raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun and grunted. “Yeah, it’s an old backwater town called Dragon’s Inn. Used to be a busy town named Crossroads, but fables of a dragon scared everyone away except for a few stalwart villagers. The name gradually changed when the dragon supposedly settled in these hills.”
“I take it you don’t believe this dragon exists?” I glanced to read his expression.
“Dragons? Really, I thought you wouldn’t be taken in by old fables and superstitions.” He chuckled.
“I’ve seen stranger things, like people turning into trees.”
“Oh yeah, your steam-house story. Interesting tale, but more superstit
ion if you ask me.”
I shook my head and held up the ring on my finger. “Then how do you explain my ring, and the miracles God does through it?”
He stared at it. He couldn’t deny the miracles he had watched me do, including those I had done on him and his sister, Gabrielle.
Gabrielle. Thoughts of her flooded my mind. How long before I could see her again? Would God ever finish with me so I could return to her?
Seth stared down the road again. “I guess God can use whatever He wants, but tell me why God would send a dragon to a village?”
I shrugged. “You’d have to ask Him, I guess. But God does use many things. You simply have to trust Him.”
“Trust Him, huh? I’ve lived by my wits in the wild far longer than you’ve been away from mommy and daddy. The only one I’ve been able to trust is myself.”
I chuckled. “All I can say is if you ever visit my village, do not use our steam house. You’ll be very sorry.”
“Sure, I’ll keep that in mind.” He pointed to the village gate a half-mile away. “But also keep in mind, this village is very superstitious. I wouldn’t talk about your ring openly. Trouble would follow.”
We entered the gate to see a few people milling around. They glanced up and scurried away as if not used to strangers. I saw older adults, but no children.
Occasionally, a creaking of rusty hinges would break the silence. Then the villager would jump back inside, slamming the door, knocking pieces of rotting wood onto their porch. Broken shutters swung in the wind and banged upon walls. Not a few houses had leaned slightly to one side. Maintenance hadn’t been a high priority, apparently.
“There’s the inn. I hope they have a good meal.” Seth turned toward it.
I nodded, but the outside didn’t seem too promising. The roof waved like a field of wheat in the wind, and holes dotted its surface. The dust swirled around us as we approached the door.
Inside, I squinted to see. At first, I thought the room seemed dark because my eyes needed to adjust. Yet a few seconds passed, and still I could only make out the outline of a counter. Little light penetrated here. A musty smell attacked my nostrils.