Stargazer - C.C. Bran

I look at the moon, only a small sliver in the distance. Wondering what the first person there really felt. It must have been amazingly magical. It also had to have seemed a lot different than he thought it would be. Was it warm, or cold, when he stepped out of that ship? Could he tell through his suit that day? Did it even feel like day to him out there among the stars?

Thoughts like that always come to me when I look up at the sky. Wondering if one day I'll be closer to those stars. Right now, my feet are firmly on the ground. Where they will always stay. I can only hope to reach that far when my time comes.

The night is warm, but not hot. Spring barely touching the air around me. The nights still get cold and the days make you strip of your sweaters. Life is returning more each day. The grass is growing greener, the trees starting to bud, the animals beginning to chatter in the light of day. As the day is ending, the sounds of day are handing over their place to the creatures of the night.

The stars twinkle into existence, becoming more pronounced as the sky darkens. They fight to be seen through the darkening pink. The darkness makes the bats chirp as they dodge and dive above me. The few bugs that buzz about scattering as the danger sweeps past, again and again.

As dark violet begins to edge over the horizon it starts in earnest to push away the sun. The temperature begins its descent with the lowering light. A chill settles in the air as I walk along the path. The chill was always the part I loved about night. It woke me up where others decided to sleep. Being awake at night meant you saw things no one else would. Different animals, different sounds, a different world all its own.

How could cold seem like an embrace? No one else could tell me either, but it felt like home to me. More so tonight than usual. I could see the lights of home, just at the bottom of the hill. Still a good mile away, but within sight. Close enough I could get there when I was ready, far enough away I didn't feel the heat from the hearth or hear the words of the group. It was peaceful here by the tree overlooking the valley.

Peace is what only night sees.
Daytime sees the home, the road, the animals, the motion.
Night sees the quiet, the stars, the family comfort.
No one travels at night.
The tree, lonesome in its vigil, stands strong against the breeze. I take a deep breath, one that burns from the chill, the sensation tightening my chest. Even as I enjoy the sensation, I know it won't be long until the nights no longer cool off. The tree will bud and flower, and summer will take over. But tonight? The chill sets in like it should.

I lean back against the trunk, feeling the bark prick into my skin, the slight pain making me jump. Above, the light filters through the branches in shades of pink and orange, casting a gentle glow over everything. I look up into the branches as the chittering floats down upon my ears—squirrels playing in the last rays of sunlight. As I watch them, the purple of night slowly climbs across the sky, stretching out from the horizon and blending with the fading colors. The squirrels scurry around and knock the just formed buds down to the ground.

I smile as a leaf lands on my nose, tickling my senses and making my eyes close. The cold of the earth sinking into my legs and feet even as the warmth of the day still rises from my face. The energy to rise is gone, taken away by the incoming night and my wish to see the stars. It is time to just enjoy the sounds. When I open my eyes to take in the lowering light, the blanket of violet has drawn up close, like tucking in a child for bed.

The warmth spreads down my side. Slowly, due to the chill. The wetness crawling across my shirt, my palm, unable to stop the spread of it. I dare not pull my hand away, even as my breath grows heavy. My vision begins to blur and I can't see the house as well as I would like. The glow, almost fading away.

I almost feel, rather than see the blanket of darkness as it crawls across the valley, robbing me of the home I traveled to see. My hilltop holding out for the last rays of light and the final bit of warmth. Taken over slower than usual, but yet still too quickly for my liking.

I can feel the warmth leaving me, not completely unpleasant, as it seems more like I am becoming the night rather than sitting in it. It seems fitting, the tree I always read under is where I find myself tonight. Coughing, I taste the metallic tang as blood slides across my tongue.

Looks like I won't travel to the stars. I can hope I lived well enough to land among them.

Weird - Skylar Everwind

Growing up, the word weird was thrown around, a LOT. As a kid being called weird was an everyday occurrence. I knew I was weird.. I saw it, I felt it. It was the emotions that seemed to flip on and off but I could never see or feel the switch. It was the hour-long matches of screaming the same few sentences over and over at my parents, hoping to find the true words I needed. As if someone had wired my brain wrong and all of the wires were exposed, snapping, and sparking. Weird was the word people used when they saw a kid like me. One who was too loud,to sensitive,too much,too quiet..never the “right amount” of anything. My family always tried to brush it off, saying things like "well the whole family is weird,kiddo” as if its supposed to make it easier or hurt less. In reality it made me feel as though my issues were something to laugh off or dismiss. For most of my life I believed it, believed I would never fit in anywhere, and even used the word to describe myself without ever taking the time to define it for myself.

I carried that word like a scar I didn't realize was still healing. It didn't fade; with time, it just changed shape. With time my vision of weird changed and I realized it wasn't the insult everyone seemed to use it as. And it certainly wasn't a flaw of any kind. It was my power. Every part of me that they (and me) tried to label, shrink, or silence was a part that made me impossible to copy.


Weird was never an insult. It was a prophecy.

Two of a Kind - Skylar Everwind

             ¨WHY WON’T IT GO AWAY?¨ I yell

            ¨I’m sorry¨ mumbles my mother

 My name is  Fiona Hood, I am 20 years old and live in a small apartment. My mom lives in the apartment right next to me because I was diagnosed with Convutus Verli when I was only a year old. Convutus Verli is a rare brain condition that makes me think there is a 6 feet tall African penguin following me everywhere I go. I know, It’s weird. It is also genetic. My whole family has it but it’s a different animal for each of us. My mom, Morgan Hood, has a lion but the twist is that it is only 6 inches tall. Also, we can all see each other’s animals

¨It’s not your fault¨ I say and walk back to my apartment. I open my cupboard, but all my food is gone except for 2 boxes of macaroni and cheese. *I guess I need to go shopping* I think to myself. I grab my neon pink hoodie that has my family crest embroidered in the top left and a huge set of white wings covering the back. And slip on my jeans that actually fit instead of the pajama pants I was wearing, and head out to the store. Leaving my penguin at my apartment

As I’m walking around, I get sweaty so I take off my hoodie to reveal my sky blue tank top. I finished my shopping and head up to the checkout.

“Did you find everything ok?” the cashier asked.

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure what all I was coming in for” I responded.

“Do you only go shopping on Thursdays?” he asks.

“Y-..yes actually it’s kinda a habit of mine” I stutter.

“Well, you always seem to pick my register” he proclaims.

“Register number 3… 3 is my lucky number”

“It must be. Hey, do you maybe wanna go out to dinner sometime?” he suggests.

“Yes, that would be nice” I respond

            “Ok here’s my number¨ he says as I hand him my phone.

            ¨Ok thank you, and um…see you Saturday?¨ I ask

            ¨Sounds good to me¨

            Its Saturday and I show up at the restaurant only to find Flynn waiting outside for me. His eyes grew wide for a second when I showed up which didn’t make sense to me because we were both dressed comfy (I was wearing my pink hoodie and my favorite shinny jeans and my long jet black hair tied up into a  high ponytail. He was wearing a plain black hoodie that made his crystal blue eyes stand out and loose but not too loose jeans with his jet black hair that is the same color as mine slightly flopped to one side) His eyes soon returned back to normal and he leads me into the restaurant. We sit down and the waiter gets our drink order. Once the waiter walked away Flynn asked me

            ¨So… if you don't mind me asking… What’s up with the penguin?¨ My eyes grow wide and I turn around to see my penguin behind me.

            ¨You….You can see him?¨ I question in shock.

            ¨Yes…I actually have one of my own if you want to come back to my apartment after this?¨ Flynn replied.

            ¨YES I WOULD LOVE TOO” I said in a whispered yell

            We finish our meal and head back to his apartment which happens to be right next to mine. We walk in and I see another six-foot tall penguin standing in the living room.

            ¨We should go meet my mom¨ I said and started towards the door

            ¨Ok¨ He says and follows me out.

¨He can see my penguin and he has a penguin. The only time two people have had the same animal is when they were twins. So mom, what the HECK is going on here?¨ I practically yelled.

¨When me and your father separated, he took your brother and I, took you¨ mother spoke sheepishly.

¨So she is my sister?¨ questioned Flynn.

¨And he is my brother?¨ I quickly added.

¨Yes, I’m sorry I never told you that you had a twin brother¨ mother replied with a deep sadness in her voice.

Just then a strange man walked in.

            ¨Hi Morgan¨ He stated as he smiled at my mother.

            ¨Hello Shawn¨ She replied with a half-grin on her face.

            ¨Hi dad¨ said Flynn.

            ¨What the HECK is going on here?¨ I questioned loudly.

            As all eyes turned to me, my mother said, ¨Fiona, meet your father¨

Love is Blind - Skylar Everwind

  Something about the way the cafeteria light hit his huge green eyes captivated me. The way his hair shaped his face. His adorable smile that could light up an entire room. Just looking at him gave me butterflies. We became really good friends and after a few months I asked him out. He gave me one of his hoodies, took me out on dates to the pool, and told me he loved me. If I was sad, he was right there to cheer me up! He would give me little love notes in my locker. He would compliment me and tell me I was beautiful. He would text me all the time and ask me how my day was. He called me his “adorable little bean.” It was great. He even came to my uncle's birthday party and met my family. He talked about how great of a girlfriend I was when he talked to his friends. He would tell me he was proud of me whenever I did anything good.  I wanted nothing more than to be with him, by his side, through all of life's challenges….. 

I have never been more wrong in my life….

I didn't realize it because all I saw when I looked at him was perfection… He was perfect to me! My friends and family tried to tell me it was toxic, that what he was doing was wrong! But I didn't listen… I told them “You just don't know him like I do! You don't see things the way I do!”. 

I had a really bad depression day and the world seem to just, hate me! So I called him, in tears. Just hearing his voice gave me a bit of comfort. What I didn't realize though, and what I had no way of knowing, was that he was hanging out with his best friend when I called him. He listened to me talk for about a minute before he told me “You're just overreacting! Shut up” all I could hear was his best friend laughing before he hung up on me. I started to realize that maybe… just maybe…. My friends and family were right.

I started hearing rumors that he was talking bad about me behind my back. And I was told that he said something that, to me, was the last straw. 

“I don't actually want to date her. I just don't want her to date anyone else”

I broke up with him but I cried about it for hours. I was too caught up on what we used to be and didn't take a minute to look at what it had become. and now? Now I know what to look for to keep myself safe.

Words - C.C. Bran

Words are hard.

They are hard when you want to use them to acknowledge feelings.

Feelings are harsh, they hide their names.

Names of emotions are hidden because they wanna play like they are something else.

What is the else that they wanna be? Each other.

But names don’t matter. They are just words…

Words? Words are hard.

Yeah. A stupid circle that swirls around your brain. Swirls around, spins you, takes you down. Every time around it pulls in more things that didn’t bother you before, but now they do because there is too much. Too much what? Too much EVERYTHING and EVERYTHING hides what feeling it is and takes away its name and then pulls in another piece of the world.

It buries you. Then? It takes the shovel. You will never dig yourself out. There is no air to breathe as it took that too. The pressure surrounds you. You can’t call out for help for fear it will tear the sound from your throat and keep it away from you. You can’t reach out for assistance because the weight of everything pushes you further down.

The constriction and pull hurt. You just wanted to ask for help, that’s all. You wanted to tell them how you felt, you wanted to tell them how today it felt like excitement and happiness leading up to the moment you were supposed to leave the house. Then excitement ripped off the cloak it wore and you knew it was actually fear. That happiness stood beside it and laughed as it showed its true nature as foreboding joy. They have names. They have symptoms. They have descriptions. None of them can make it past your lips to describe your feelings to anyone who might help.

They don’t see where it comes from. They just see sudden hate. Unexplained hurt. Your body curled into itself as tears roll down your cheeks. They see you in the act of downing, with no way to toss you a life preserver. They will never see the mental fight to walk past the door. The moment to moment battle that is constantly ongoing in your head, in your chest, in the ache in your bones.

After a while, they look at you as if you have made it all up. You say you’re happy, but you cry. You smile, but flinch when people talk. You plan outings, but lie in bed when the time comes. You can’t be believed. You are not to be counted on when looking at the day to day activities. No one knows why you make that choice.

Yeah, you are able to find the time to be there when it really counts. When your friends are stranded, you can get past everything and be by their side, no matter what words have hidden themselves that day. You make sure that plans are built in such a way that there are backups and replacements for everything. The group needs to be taken care of. You are a mother hen who just can’t let her chicks run into danger. You would fight the wolf for your friends, but the words are not the occasional wolf.

This is your life. You wanted the job. You wanted the family. You wanted the home. You wanted… Happiness. You caused this. This is all your own fault. Take ownership. Deal with the ever changing feelings. Deal and push past the doorway. Place a smile and make sure no one around you feels uncomfortable. This little fit you have? They don’t need to be bothered. This stress would not be so bad if you planned better. If you quit making things up.

You can hear it all being said, even though no one is there. You know they all think it, even if they have never opened their mouth. You know you’re not enough. You will never be enough. No matter how much planning. No matter how far you stretch. No matter how many times you try. You can’t tell them how you feel. Even you don’t know how you feel. The feelings give you the wrong names. They hide. They pretend to be what they aren’t. You can’t ask for help if you can’t even say the words.

Then the day comes.

He has been looking. He has been paying attention. He is finally able to reach through your fog and make a difference. You have built your life together. You have grown, side by side. No, it wasn’t always this way. The battles were easier. The emotions, easier to deal with. The fights within yourself were fewer and farther in between. He was there the whole time, but life was different then.

He turns to you. He sees your smile, taped on as it is, and he carefully reaches out and removes it. He touches your cheek and wipes away the tear even though you didn’t know it was there. He reaches into your darkness and your fingers touch. He puts the air back in the space and you are allowed to breathe. His arms lift you. His heart beat steadies yours.

He sees your struggle. He doesn’t need words to know you are asking for help. He doesn’t understand in the moment what is in front of you, but he knows there is a battle and you just need to breathe and gives you time to find the words. He doesn’t push you out the door. He holds it open for when you are ready to cross. He doesn’t rip you out of bed, but crawls in beside you and holds you until you can find the strength to pull back the blanket again. He takes the plans you have made and helps find the pieces and parts that are manageable for you in the moment. He helps find the pitfalls so you can be counted on again.

He knows the battle. He is fighting one himself. He finds strength in you that you didn’t know existed because he had to find his while on his own. He knows the doorway is hard to push past when emotions stand in the way. He knows the crushing sand of being overwhelmed and alone. He fights his battle, hiding it from you all this time because he didn’t know how to ask for help either.

He is your hero. Your knight. Your protector.

The war is one that you both decide to fight together. That the battles will be won because you stand side by side. Stronger together. You chose him and he chose you.

You don’t need as many words. The words are not as hard anymore. You don’t have to use them to acknowledge feelings because you can look at him and he understands. The feelings don’t hold a lasting edge because he can hold you together when they tear you apart. The feelings can’t hide their names. They can’t play like they are something else, or another emotion.

You don’t need words when wrapped in his arms. You know of one word that means everything and you will never let it go for it gives you strength, energy, purpose, comfort, protection, and love.

Soulmate.

The Sky is On Fire - C.C. Bran

The sky is on fire.

The flames caress the trees.

The shadows of blue and purple lead the flames as they reach across the sky.

The clouds take on life as the light reaches out.

The sky is on fire.

The light brightens in intensity even as it is taken away.

One last burst as it says it’s goodbye.

The heat lingers even as the flames fall away.

The sky is on fire.

The whisper of a breeze cools the skin and pulls the heat away.

The fire leaves a passion in its wake.

Setting lovers to smolder for the night.

The sky is on fire.

The flames rolled across the sky.

Saying goodbye for another day.

Leading on the night as it burned away.

The sky is on fire.

The night begins as the lovers’ lips brush softly.

The heat finds a new home.

One that comes from within and not from the sky.

The sky is on fire.

Sweet heat rises to cheeks that are flushed.

Passion arises from fingertips skimmed across skin.

Eyes burn with lust born of love and trust.

The sky is on fire.

When embracing one another lights passion and heat.

When kisses send shivers of sweet, cooling relief.

When love is true and the time is right

The sky is on fire.

Vicious Spring - C.C. Bran

The changing of seasons will always be one that shows a love and hate relationship between the Gods. It is the changing of the guard as one would say.

As the season starts, we can watch a bud start to form on the top of a flower and the tendril form of a vine, we see the good of the returning of life and we are happy. We see the bubble of the water as it melts from the ice. We look to the field and see the stalk push out of the ground, well on its way to form the petals of the daisy. Flowers that will fill the horizon with color. We feel the welcome heat from the sun as it rises to warm the earth and make way for all the new life. As the season begins anew, people begin to meander along the paths, instead of rushing for the nearest shelter to get out of the cold. In the spring, we start to see the frogs begin to climb on the stones to soak in the warmth that will give them the energy to begin the day. Soaking in all the wonder that is the new beginning known as spring, one can swallow all the painful thoughts, the hurt of a cold, hard, past.

This new beginning, this returning of warmth and activity, it surrounds us like a warm meal. It is the meat and potatoes of our lives. It gives us the energy and strength to carry on through the good times and the bad. It brings us out of the dark and leads us to the light.

The Gods, however, do not see this change like we do. The spring is about hard work and painful growth. The painful way that things must go in order to thrive. The daisy must push aside the stone to even have a glance at the sun. While the water bubbles from the ground, it is quickly swallowed back in, quicker due to the dry, thawing ground that aches for the moisture. The heat that is so desperately needed for life, reaches out in tendrils, teasing, not giving its full strength to the air or the ground. The corn stalks are made to push through weeds that grow quicker than the meat on their seeds. Weeds meander through the fields, choking out the crops that do not grow quickly enough.

Spring is a time of happiness and renewal for the people of the world. But to the plants and animals of the world, it is a time of work. A time to take back and fight for the space to grow and flourish. This season may seem easy to us, but it is a time of war for the earth and its creatures.