The Last Story

 Well, the only true story anyway. I've told a lot of untrue stories (I'm really good at those); but this story, this is the one and only true story I'll ever tell. It's not because I don't like the truth or anything, I've just never felt the need. Why tell the truth when a lie is so much more fun? The challenge that comes with building and building on it. The rush you get when you know someone has fallen for your lie. It's a kind of drug. This time however, the truth is important. Lives are at stake. Not mine, mine is already lost; but the lives of those who need this truth. Those who are unaware of what hides not only in the dark, but also in the light. So, I tell this last, true story for them in the hopes that they can do what I could not.

To Save a Town 2

Soroya flew the short distance to the town square where the town's people, old and young, were being loaded into trucks. Those who were old and strong enough to offer resistance had been handcuffed or tied. Many of the children were crying. There as a news crew and its vans interspersed with the military vehicles. They were recording the scene and broadcasting it live. It was how she and her brother had become aware of the situation.

She came to a stop, floating in place just south of the square. Using some of her power, she projected her voice and spoke. "General Thrisen! Let these people go!"

All heads, cameras, and guns turned to face her. A collective gasp went through the crowd as they noticed her, floating above the streets. Very few of her people used their power for flight, it took too much power, and even fewer had used it where it could be seen. None had ever been captured on camera.

A man, tall and muscular, pushed his way through the soldiers and civilians to stand in the center of the square. He had a megaphone in his hand. "Ah, Soroya Kingschild. We meet at last." he spoke into the megaphone. "Where-"

"I'm here to trade myself for the town." She cut him of before he could ask where her brother was. "They've done nothing." As she spoke, she noticed soldiers moving through the news crews, making them lower their cameras and voice recorders.

"They gave shelter to enemies of the United States." was the general's reply.

"They had no idea I was here. I rarely came to town, and when I did, I made sure I could not be recognized. They did not know they were helping me. Let them go and I'll come peacefully."

The general thought about her words for a moment. "You'll come willingly? No fighting or resistance?"

"Yes. Provided you release them now. I won't come down until then." she replied.

The general spoke into his sleeve. "How about this, in addition to you surrendering peacefully, you also prove that there are no others like you among this crowd and I'll let the town go. No charges will be filed, no one arrested. If there are others like you, they will be taken and placed in the nearest camp, instead of being taken as a terrorist. Sound like a deal? As you think on this, you should know that I have men in place to shoot you out of the sky if you refuse this offer. "

She didn't immediately respond. He was asking her to betray her own people. It would have been one thing if no others had been here; but there was one man. He was a few years older than she and Corin, and taller. He stood with defiant posture among other young men who were waiting to be loaded onto a truck. Even from her height, she could see the markings that marked him as one of her people. The markings of her people were only visible on a certain wavelength of light. A wavelength that humans could not see or produce. Not with out help. What would be the most significant about this betrayal, even of one man, was the fact that she was supposed to be a leader of her people, a queen of sorts to her brother's role as a king. Even still, she knew what she was going to do.

"I'm sorry."she mentally said as she sent a telepathic burst of apology and deep regret. While her people could not exchange words telepathically, but they could send "bursts" of emotion with such precision that they might as well have. Her burst was returned with one understanding and acceptance. From the way he expressed it, she got the impression that he had known what she would do even before she had and that he was perfectly okay with it, possibly even proud. "Strange." she thought.

She closed her eyes concentrated. She felt the power flowing through her and molded it to her will. A moment later, she was filled with warmth. She opened her eyes and raised her right hand. A yellowish light emanated from it. She shone it over the crowd. She lit the rest of crowd, moving slowly so that the general and his soldiers could clearly see that there were none of her people among them, before coming to stop on the man she had noticed.

"Bring that man here." the general said through his megaphone. Soldiers moved to obey. They grasped the man by the arms and brought him to stand by the general. Once he was standing beside the general, arms still held by the soldiers, the general addressed her again. "Alright, Ms. Kingschild, it's time for you to hold up your end of the deal."

"What about the townspeople? They are free to go?" she asked.

"Yes. The town is free to go." the general responded. He spoke into his sleeve again and solders began to move through the crowd, releasing those who had been restrained.

She watched for a moment and then slowly began to descend, releasing the power that held her in the air . She did it slowly so that no one would assume she was flying off or attacking.

She had only descended a couple feet when she heard a muffled thwump and whooshing sound behind and above her. She whirled in the direction of the sound. She tried to dodge, but was not fast enough, so a second later, her chest and left arm exploded in pain and she lost all control of her power and descent.

She was vaguely aware that she was headed in the direction of where General Thrisen was standing. She hit the ground with a thud, cracking the asphalt.Her unconscious body rolled a few times and stopped. There was blood coming from a gash on her head and from her nose.

"Restrain her." the general said, and his men obeyed. They roughly rolled her over and cuffed her hands behind her back with cuffs made special for restraining her kind. Two of them lifted her by her arms and dragged her to a truck.

"Lieutenant," he said, addressing a man beside him who saluted, "make sure she stays unconscious until I say so. Also, take that man she identified with you. If he give you any trouble, shoot him." The lieutenant gave him a "yes, sir!" and scurried off to follow his orders. Then, the general turned to address the rest of his men and yelled, "Somebody confiscate those cameras!"

The Pen is Mightier

He stared at the pen sitting on his desk. It was nothing special, but he remembered the day he had received it with perfect clarity. He had been so nervous, unable to stop crossing and crossing his legs. He had turned twenty-one that month. Every month, all of those who had turned twenty-one received a weapon that embodied them perfectly. He had hoped his was a sword. Any sword would do. He was so engrossed in his hoping that his name had to be called twice. He hopped to his feet and had to remind himself not to dash to the podium. As he approached, the shakes in his hands intensified. He took his place and waited, a man went to a table filled with red boxes and picked one up. His heart immediately fell, the box was too small to contain any type of sword. A knife maybe? He could make do with a knife. He took the box with trembling hands and opened it. He stared in shock. Inside was nothing but a simple ball point pen. It had a simple clear plastic body with a black cap. Nothing special. He shuffled back to his seat. A pen? A stupid ball-point pen? Not even a fancy fountain pen with a sharp tip. How in the world could this be a weapon? As the days and months afterwards turned into years, his question had been answered. He life came to embody the Shakespearian quote, "The pen is mightier than the sword." He had never been, nor ever would be, a great, super-athletic warrior worthy of a sword. He was a simple man who was able to write in such a way that all of the world listened. His words convicted even the most hardened of criminals and brought down the most corrupt governments. They negotiated treaties between warring nations and brought light to hidden atrocities. Yes, this simple, plastic, ball point pen embodied him better than any sword or knife ever could.

To Lie or Not to Lie

“Wait….what?!”

“I said, normally I’d-”

“I know what you said!”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“You would lie to me?”

“Uhh…yes….”

“Why?”

“Is this really when you want to have this conversation?”

“Yes! I want to know before we crash and die.”

“Well, because I love you.”

…..“Okay, I know you didn’t grow-up in a ‘normal’ of environments, but that is not how you show someone that you love them.”

“Even if the lie is better than the truth?”

“A lie is never better!”

“What if telling you the truth would get you killed?”

“Then tell me that; but don’t lie to me.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good” …. “Do you really love me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then you won’t get upset when I tell you that we’re going the wrong way.”

“What?!”