The blue of reality encompassed all. Slowly, gray mists defined a horizon. White tuffs pulled my attention to what might be my right. As my gaze slid back, the horizon gained depth. Darkness flowed from the mists. Light sparkled and danced across waves as sounds (child laughing, old woman crying), then smells (pizza, wet dog, lilacs). A white dot appeared out of the mists… It grew as it flowed towards me leaving ripples in it wake.

Anxiety filled me as the stray memory came directly toward me

I peered into the tomb of forgotten souls as I cautiously slid the closet door open. Menacing boxes full of neglected memorabilia leered at me as I slowly looked from one to the other, reading the various classifications written in bold black marker: IMPORTANT, REALLY IMPORTAN, KINDA IMPORTANT, EH, MAYBE IMPORTANT,… Finally, I came to it. DOCU-IMPORTANT. It was scribbled on a tattered, beaten-up red Nike shoe box located on the top shelf.

As I reached up to carefully take the injured box down, the casualty tore open, spilling it’s innards of discarded documents onto my upturned face. The small box sighed with relief at the expenditure.

(more…)

random idea…

he always had a sense of how he would die… just like in a song… ‘leaving on a jet plane’ but it was never more than a vague wave of anxiety

the oldest twin daughter wasn’t wired like others… born way too early, her brain developed/grew at differing rates… synopsis wired in different ways, firing unusual thoughts.  Some things were faster, better, others slower, different.  since the beginning, she felt how things were going to be… as she grew, the feelings became thoughts, facts, visions… she knew how things would be… bad things caused by single/simple decisions could be changed… but changing events that resulted from series of interelated decisions, random events almost impossible

the youngest twin was distant… emotions couldn’t be controled or grasped without slipping between tight fingers.  when her father died when she was 6, there was just more reason to close off the world of feelings.  she pushed through the following years head down focusing on logic, facts, later science… her goal clearly articulated in her own mind was to control, predict everything

the oldest son was a thinker, story teller and scientist.  he believed in right and wrong taught to him from his dad, believed in dragons and knights and sought ways to make them all real.  his passion drove him and his innate ability to bridge dreams with science using the building blocks of what came before enabled his gifts

the youngest son was the solver… as far back as he could recall, his sisters and brother missed their father.  During the phase (grieving phase, they called it), he would bring them together and in his quiet voice show them the way through.  he grieved, but his father quickly faded into vague images and a voice off camera on family videos.  they told him his father was a builder and he tried to emulate that… he would build rather than take… he saw the problems blocking others and showed them the paths through…

25 years later could they save their daddy, dad, father… should they… would they…

Kremhok Drel was born the only child of only children of only children dating back seven generations. His great, great, great, great grandfather was the seventh son of a seventh son and his great, great, great, great grandmother the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. His parents, Rinbrahl Drel and Trinly Frinh, taught history and mathematics, respectively, at the Mrwist University. Mrwist was the capital seat of the Kingdom of Prilliad, made up of 14 island protectorates and crossing 8 continents.

1. Krem
2. father
3. grandfather
4. greatgrandfather
5. greatgreatgrandfather
6. greatgreatgreatgrandfather
7. greatgreatgreatgreatgrandfather

At the age of 5, Krem’s abilities manifested.
The last wizard to join the council of seven during the Glorious Age of Anarix.

In the beginning, it was the end of all we knew. The plague came out of the East spreading from rodent to rodent. Scientists spent two years finding a cure only to have the plague jump to another species. This cycle continued for

broken, bent, aged, worn… a wanderer hobbled into the village more dragging a heavy, gnarled walking staff than leaning on it. Gray streams of matted hair pressed his gnobby skull as dust rose from the unkempt robes with each wearied step.