The Butterfly Ethic/0

Prologue

Wings of Icarus

The closing prayer was said.

“It is finished.” I had waited four years to say those words. I stood on the concrete and my enemies had fled, but that wasn’t enough. I made my way through the crowd of familiar faces. They went about their own business, unaware of what I had planned. I was uncertain whether or not I would see any of them for a long time, but I did know that, if I hadn’t already, I would rid them of their troubles. I rushed down the dimly lit stairwell and into the lobby. My heart pounded with anticipation. I had to act fast for my plan to work.

Sitting in a chair in the lobby was Julia. She seemed to be waiting for somebody. When she saw me, she simply said goodbye, thinking I’d see her again in a few days. I wanted to stay and talk to her, but I knew I had to go.

I went out to our van and took a seat with my brothers. They had all just seen The Dark Knight the other day and still talked about how breathtaking it was. I didn’t take part in that. I still thought of what had just happened. I fought that monster for four long years, and now finally rode out triumphant. It was a shame night had already fallen; a sunset to walk off into was the only thing missing from this picture. On those sleepless summer nights I had planned this day with a mixture of enthusiasm and anxiety. I often asked myself: What am I going to do when this is over? Now I knew.

5 years earlier

“Look Out!” my comrade cried, but it was too. I was hit. I sprang back as a searing pain shot up my arm. I lifted my sleeve to inspect the wound. It was solid red, and dodgeball textured.

“Aww, you stole my kill again!” someone from the opposing team yelled.

“You’re out, Martin!” Giovanni shouted. He coached me as though I were an idiot who didn’t know the first thing about dodgeball.

“I know, I know.” I muttered, shuffling toward the chain link fence. Seizing the moment, he threw another dodgeball at my back. It was a terrible waste of ammunition if you ask me, but to him, it was worth it. I leaned on the chain link fence with the others in the dodgeball graveyard as Giovanni had a good laugh with his half-brothers and discussed his latest dodgeball hounding. They listened with excitement as if they had no short-term memory.

This death wasn’t any more important than every other time I stood with my fallen comrades; their fragrant cologne was all too familiar to me. They cheered on their comrades, but I didn’t. I tried instead to recall my elusive dream from last night. It was something about fifth grade. Yes! That was it, but what else? The answer remained tangled in the knots of my mind for until the bell rang. I tried so hard I thought it was making me sick, until I realized it was just the meat from our lunch ravaging my intestines again. I wanted to remain with my thoughts, but that option sank as my music teacher, Charlotte Whigfield, strode across the tilted pavement toward me.

“Why aren’t you in class?” She asked me.

“I, uh… I have to return this ball to Sophia.” I told her. I pointed to the abandoned dodgeball caught in the center of the watershed that divided the playground.

"Sister Sophia." she corrected.

"Uuh, yeah. Her." I said.

“Well, be back in five minutes!” she said. “Or Amber will hear about this.” That was bad. Charlotte was a nice teacher, but some she was too nice, as she couldn’t bear to do more to us than stand us in the corner. One day, back in October, she did that to me, but it didn’t stop my bad behavior, so she sent me to Amber, my homeroom teacher, who had the iron nerve to do everything Charlotte couldn’t do. Since then, my punishment was to be sent to the girl’s seminary class to meet my doom at her hands, but not today.

I dashed down the hall to Sophia’s classroom, knocking on every door I ran by. I turned the corner to a classroom that didn’t have a door to knock on, just a rectangular hole in the plywood wall. It was the only hole in the wall that was made with good intentions. This was my destination.

I didn't enter just yet, for they were in the middle of a lesson. I merely stood outside and listened to the teacher call on someone to test their knowledge.

“Allie. Can you name the barbarian tribes?” She asked one of her students.

“The tribes that attacked Rome were, Vandals, Chaldeans...“ Allie trailed off.

What a retard, I thought. ''During the fourth and fifth century, Rome was attacked by the Vandals, Franks, Angles, Gauls, and the Huns. Everyone Knows That!''

“May I help you with anything?” Sophia asked. I realized she was talking to me.

“I’m uhh… returning your ball.” I stammered. Everyone in the class faced the direction of the doorway. Somewhere in the class someone whispered: “Freya, your brother’s dumb.”

“Well, come on in.” The teacher beckoned.

''Walk in. Walk out. Walk in. Walk out,'' I thought, but I discarded that command. My surroundings were more dominant in my attention span. It was definitely nicer than most of the other classrooms I’d been in (with the exception of Amber’s classroom). On the wall was a row of several animal classification posters and on the end of the row was a massive map of the world. On a table below sat several beakers of water with salt crystals growing on strands of pink yarn suspended by number two pencils.

I couldn’t observe for too long, for I stole the attention from the teacher. Shaking off the awkwardness, I handed the teacher her ball and walked out and realized I almost exceeded my time limit, I took off to music class and barely made it in time.

The class itself was the same as always. I was a last-chair clarinet who played very badly. I almost wished I had learned to play the cello instead. I was ten years old when I had decided to try the clarinet. I would’ve tried the cello, but I couldn’t stand the idea of carrying that oversized violin home every day. The only other reason I could think of was that my friend, Helen played the clarinet too.

Seminary was our next class, where we exchanged our Limnah for treats. Limnah was currency in the school. I think the name comes from the Book of Mormon. When I walked into the classroom, one of the kids was complaining about some kids storing up too much Limnah over multiple terms. The teacher acknowledged his point of view and said something about putting caps on Limnah accumulation, but I wasn't really listening; I was too concerned with my dream. I knew it was something about the past, but what? Then I remembered: The Saxons also waged war against the Roman Empire. I completely forgot about the Saxons. My ancestors, the Saxons, would hang their heads in shame.

Anyway, back to the dream. I still had nothing. There was so much to the dream but so little I could recall. I needed something else to think about while my brain tried to remember it. I tried listening to the lesson for a while. Our seminary teacher, Kolleen taught us about the children of Noah, and the curse Noah put on Ham for stealing the cloak of Adam (Don't ask, it's a long story.) The lesson didn't last that long, and I had no better luck remembering the dream after hearing the lesson than before. Luckily, something else came along that I thought might help: Kitchen Duty.

Apparently we were running out of learning material in that class, because, you know, the most important books in the world shouldn’t be studied more than one hour per week, so it slowly became a custom that we'd be sent in to clean the kitchen and lunchroom during our seminary period. While it wasn’t nearly as bad in the afternoon as in the morning, we still hated it.

My main issue was with the people who worked there. There was Cassandra, the head lunch lady who seemed to exclusively pick on me and a few of my relatives. She was probably in her seventies and was almost on the mark of the stereotypical rude old lady teacher, like the kinds you see in cartoons. Then there was the guy with the knives in the corner, who spent his days preparing food with his dark eyes flickering around the kitchen. I worked with him once for fifteen minutes. I spent seven minutes trying to relate to him and eight minutes trying to avoid him, because I knew that behind those eyes was pure evil.

But the worst part by far was lunch ladies gathered with everyone else who seemed to have nothing better to do but go to the lunchroom gossip, forcing their classroom experiences on anyone they could. Joining in today as a terrifying guest was Shelly, the school secretary. She was in her late twenties, with light red hair that she clearly made no attempt at brushing. Her face always carried a scowl that any reasonable person would avoid. Her high voice buzzed into the kitchen as I was loading another tray onto the even bigger tray for the dishwasher.

She seemed to have something against some of the middle school kids and needed someone to complain to. I’d write what she said, but I intend for this story to entertain you, not put you to sleep (Though it’s probably doing the latter anyway). And to be honest, I can’t even remember it all. She just kept going on about how annoying the seventh graders were, taking breaks only to yell at them until they shriveled up with annoyance. After she was finished, she beckoned Moroni Whigfield, one of the students helping in the kitchen, to come with her. The frightened seventh grader followed her from the kitchen, presumably to the office.

I continued the tedious chore of loading and unloading the dishwasher every couple of minutes; as I did, my nose burned with the most awful smell. I immediately pulled my collar over my nose in a futile attempt to filter out the smell.

“What is that smell?” I shouted. The answer was typical of Cassandra, but one I didn’t like to hear: “Tomorrow’s lunch. What you have a problem with it?” she said.

“No, not really.” I replied, trying not to upset her. Like that’s even possible.

“But it’s somebody else cookin’ this time,” She told me. “Which is good for you, I can tell that you despise my cooking.”

“How?” I asked her.

“You barely eat anything here, and I see you dumping your lunch in the garbage all the time.” She scolded, her voice now sounding very much like jagged rocks. “I don’t care if you disrespect me, but we’re having someone else cook now, so the least you can do is show respect to the new cook.”

“So that- that smell is coming- fro- from the other cook’s- work?” I asked Cassandra while trying not to hyperventilate from the odor. I was beginning to really miss seminary class right now.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“What is it?” I was prepared for the worst.

“I don’t know, it smells like they’re making cottage cheese, but I think it’s the gravy.” She replied. That couldn’t be good. Cassandra walked out of the room and paused to yell at the man walking in. He was tall and wore a black hoodie came in and examined the gravy, assuming it can be called that. He added some spices to it and then sniffed it his reaction was to slam the lid on the pan in disgust.

I thought it would be a good idea to ask him what he was doing so I looked the open door to make sure Cassandra wasn't coming back. She wasn’t, the only ones in the room were me, the new cook, the creepy guy in the corner, and a sixth grader who was sent to get bread as a snack for his class. I was given a brief opportunity to slack off.

“How can you stand working for her?” I asked the man.

“What?” he replied, yanking the headphones from his ears. From them, I was able to hear some hypnotic rock music.

“Never mind.” I replied. He went back to the stove, and I asked him: “Hey, um, what is that on the stove?”

“The gravy. I’m using different ingredients for it. I'm also trying some natural preservatives so we can make enough for the next week. I hear that some of these preservatives were hailed by the Axis military during the war.”

“So is that why it smells like that, ‘cause it was invented by Nazis?” I asked him.

“No, it's the method of cooking that gives off that smell. The gravy is like a mixture of gravy and cottage cheese.” I don’t even want to know how that’s possible.

“So, um, is it going to taste like it smells?”

“Is it going to taste like it smells?” the voice of the random sixth grader aped.

“Get out!” I shouted. I gave him a good shove out the door, but I left it open so we could have good ventilation. As I turned to face him again, memories of the dream began to flood my mind.. I remembered seeing a small room with a red carpet, a grand piano, and bricks for walls.

“No,” The cook replied. “It’s not finished, and it won’t smell like that when it is. I’m actually going to try resinating it.”

“Huh? Oh, um, What’s that mean?” I asked.

“When you put resin in it, for flavor.” He told me''. Note to self, I thought as he went back to his business; look up resin in the dictionary.''

“Why aren’t you working?” Cassandra asked.

“Um, I-“ I ran back to the dishwasher, which now had stacks of dishes accumulated behind it. I pushed the trays and silverware through the dishwasher, looking over my shoulder every so often only to find Cassandra staring at me with that micaceous smile in her eyes. The look on her face clearly said: “Martin, you’re going to eat this crap tomorrow.’

This was why lunch was one of my most dreaded subjects. Every day I went to school hoping for things to be different, but they never were. I was trapped in this repetitive school, and I needed to fly away like Daedalus of old. Then it hit me, I could.

In spite of my efforts, I couldn’t keep up with the dishwasher, so Cassandra assigned someone named Lloyd Irving to take my job. She sent me out to help the other people fold up the lunch tables and roll them to the wall. Just after I walked out, a painful yelp escaped from the kitchen. I ran back in and saw the garbage can on fire. Apparently, one of the pilot lights on the stove went out, and the new cook tried to relight it with a flaming roll of paper. .By the time the pilot light was relit, the flame had crept up to where he was holding it. In a panicked moment, he threw the paper into the garbage can, where it melted the plastic bag and burned an empty Little Caesar’s pizza box. Lloyd immediately grabbed the hose he was using to rinse the dishes and sprayed the garbage can.

Naturally, Cassandra was angry, so she sent me take the garbage can back to the dumpster since I was going out anyway. When I returned, they were done moving the tables, so I went back to class. There were only ten minutes left of sixth period, so we were left to do whatever we wanted, and that’s how I came across it. The Puzzle.

Two of the eighth grade boys, Bryan Webster and Windsor Kimball, were trying to piece together an odd cluster of wooden blocks, though trying isn’t the same as succeeding. After watching them fiddle with it, I asked them to let me take a whack at it.

“Good Luck,” Windsor said as he handed it to me. It was the weirdest thing I’d ever seen. Looking more closely at it, I found the bricks to be shaped in such a way that they were difficult to solve, and by difficult, I mean I'd have a better chance of getting out of eating next day's lunch, or becoming first chair clarinet. Just when it seemed I almost had it, there was just one piece of wood sticking out, keeping the puzzle from being complete.

I’d say it more painful than a Rubik’s cube. At least in the case of a Rubik’s cube, you know what the end result is supposed to look like. With this, I didn’t know where I was going. I knew that I was supposed to piece them together so that they wouldn’t fall apart, but I was completely clueless on how to do that.

“You want to give it back?” Windsor asked upon seeing my struggle.

“Give me a moment.” I replied.

“You think that’s hard? Check this out.” Said Kolleen’s son, Ishmael. He had ruffled blonde hair and a smirk on his face. “I made up my own game that will blow your brains out: Revenge of the O’s.” Ishmael’s game grabbed Windsor’s attention, but I was more interested in the puzzle.

''Come on, put this block here, put this notch in there, Aw Crap! ''After messing up, I tried it again and again, keeping to it until the bell rang.

“Hey, Windsor,” I beckoned as everyone was leaving the classroom.

“Yeah?” He replied.

“Can I borrow this overnight?” I asked him.

“Well, it’s not mine,” He said. “It’s my sister’s, but she’d probably let you. Good luck figuring it out over one night, though.”

“It’ll kill you.” Said Bryan.

“We’ll see about that.” I muttered.

“So Ambrose has this cat that he taught to do all kinds of cool stuff.” My eight year old sister said. “I wonder how come we don't have a cat like that.” She asked.

“We did, Cila, but it has perished.” said Freya.

“That's not fair! You guys remember it, but I'm too little. We should get another one.” Cila said.

“Why, so it can fall to its death again? That was what took shooting-star, right Martin?” she asked. I gave no reply. I was sitting in the seat behind her trying to put the puzzle together.

“Is he okay? all he does is tries to put those blocks together.” Cila asked.

“I shall see.” Freya said. “Martin!”

“Yes?” I groaned as the puzzle came apart again.

“What empire split off from the Roman Empire?” she asked while rubbing her head on her palm.

“Don’t know.” I replied.

“Something is wrong.” Freya said. “You know not, or do you even care?” she asked. I set the puzzle down.

“Let me think for a second.” I told her. I tried to think about the answer, then realized how loud the people on the seat behind us were talking.

“Behold! The mighty Garma Sword!” said a voice that sounded like sandpaper on rubbing against notebook paper. I knew that voice to belong to Christopher Reagan. “What will you do now, you've pretty much lost right here!”

“Well you've activated my TRAP CARD! Now your soil is eroded away and your monster loses 5oo attack points per turn.” the other person said.

“Big deal, I still have more than enough to beat you.” Christopher said.

“Hey, could you quiet down over there?” I asked him.

“Make me, Martin!” he replied. I looked over the back seat and found him using his seat to play Yu-Gi-Oh with his friend.

“All right then, how about you shut the heck up before I knock those cards from your seat!” I told him. To prove my point, I sat up and balanced myself on the back of the seat with both my feet directly above his children's card game. They dripped with the black water from the bus floor. “I'll slam my feet down on your rarest cards.” I threatened.

I was the one who was thrown against the black water, with the back of my head. I looked up and saw Freya sitting on the seat above me. From behind the seat Christopher poked his head out and said: “Serves you right.” I threw myself on him and grabbed hold of his neck. His friend did the same to me and tried to pull me away. Freya joined in and pried me off of him.

“Ha-ha, beaten by some fifth graders!” Christopher taunted with his newly acquired breath. People around laughed at my misfortune and talked about it while Christopher went to tell the bus driver what I did.

“Why do you even start these fights you know you can't win?” Christopher's friend asked.

“He was the one who started it.” I replied. Christopher came back and told me: “You have to make cookies for us tomorrow. Corinne says you have to.” This was the bus driver’s method of punishment. Even though Christopher was just as guilty as I was, I was the one who had to make them. Normally I would've silently pledged to beat this kid up, but now I didn't care.

“It doesn’t matter, for tomorrow, I leave.” I replied calmly. “I shall leave you all behind and go to a place where I can live my dream, away from you and your fads.” I filled up with enthusiasm. “Don’t count on me being around anymore, for this place is unfit for me!”

“So you're committing suicide.” Muttered the boy sitting on the seat behind mine, casually eating some of the school's bread, his name I knew to be Nephi.

“Suicide? I’m doing something far better than suicide. I will not throw my life away, I will choose a new one, but first, I need to solve this flippin’ puzzle.” I shouted. The puzzle continued to stump me all the way to our stop, and even as we walked home.

Our bus stop was three to four blocks from home if you measured distance on the roads, but we weren’t those kinds of people. Though we never romped through anybody’s yards, we would cut through fields and jump fences. My feet knew the way home, so I did the puzzle as I walked. The cold wind against my face did little to deter my attention, but a familiar odor did. The little black-and-white devil was standing on its front legs ready to inflict upon me the most feared fate in our neighborhood. I leaped back and cut a path around it, placing fifteen feet between me and the skunk.

“What is that?” My brother, Abinadi, asked as he watched an animal slip through the frosted yellow grass.

“Stay back,” I told Abinadi and the others. “It's a skunk. Go on! Get!” I shouted at it, but my threats were emptied and it knew it. Its sulfuric liquid would do more damage to me than I’d do to it by yelling. It balanced itself on its hind legs and I bolted, along with Abinadi who was standing right behind me. He turned around and said: “Aww crud where’d it go?” I looked around for it too, but it had slipped away. “I hate it when they bluff like that.” Abinadi muttered. I moved towards the fence on our right to stay as far away from the skunk as possible.

“Is it gone?” asked Cila.

“Just follow me.” I told her. She followed my exact path, being careful not to let a toe on foreign ground. As I walked down the path, something in the grass caught my eye. It appeared to be a ring, but even calling it that would be over-praising it. It was made of cheap brass and, after wiping off the mud, I noticed it had the insignia of a pumpkin. Not knowing what to do with it, I slipped it into my pocket. We finished the trip, talking about what had just happened and how awful it would have been to be sprayed. The idea of having to bath in tomato juice was revolting.

We had the house to ourselves, and I continued my attempts with the puzzle. The puzzle was impossible, so why did I keep trying? The same reason you fiddled with that Rubik’s cube for so long. There would be no reward for it; nobody would give you a million dollars, but you persisted because you were frustrated and wanted to win. I was the same way; I wanted to beat this rigged puzzle and show it who was boss. I couldn’t do homework or play with anyone until I finished it.

When my mother got home, she wasn’t pleased that I had spent the rest of the afternoon on the puzzle. I had to do my homework first, so the devious puzzle had to wait. After a few minutes on my science homework, Freya pulled me away and told me that my sister, Rachel, came home. I was trying to go to her for a while and get a book. My English teacher, Sister Amber said we needed a classic to do our book report on.

“So would you rather get the book or do the puzzle?” Freya asked with nerve.

“I’ll go.” I replied. We walked down the hall and up the stairs to Rachel’s room. I put my hand on the doorknob and began to twist it.

“We must knock first, Martin.” Freya snapped. She gave the door three knocks.

“Who is it?” Rachel’s voice called.

“Freya.” My sister responded. Rachel wasted no time letting us in to her over-decorated room. She pulled apart the bead curtains for us, then sat down on her bed and continued writing. At the foot of her bed sat a chessboard with only the black pieces. The back row was arranged normally, but the pawns were set across the rest of the board with three spaces in between each.

“Do you need something?” she asked.

“We need some books from you.” I told her.

“Later, I have homework.” She said, barely taking her eyes off the paper. ''Dang that homework, it’s a great way to spoil a perfectly good evening--or a life for that matter. ''“And I’ve had a rough day, we had a RAT in accounting, and I missed almost every question, and then in my diversity class, we had to listen to people tell their experiences of coming out-”

“Hey, um, could you not force your day upon us?” I asked her.

“Yes, I will.” said Rachel.

“Well you're not the only one who had a bad day, we had to work in the kitchen and- hey Rachel.” I said.

“Yes?” she replied.

“What’s resin?” I asked.

“Resin? I don’t know, but I do have a dictionary.” She said. “It’s on the shelf over there, its red.”

I went to her shelf and went straight to the dictionary. It was easy to find because Rachel had organized her books by the color of the covers and had them neatly arranged in groups of three. The dictionary stood right in between Soul of the Wanderer, and Life of Pi.

“Here, gimme it!” Rachel snapped as I was opening the dictionary. She took the dictionary out of my hand and flipped through it.

“Oh, you know on pine cones, how that sticky stuff comes out?” She asked. “That’s resin. It’s waste the pine cones don’t need.” So, in other words, it’s pine cone vomit, or worse.

“Why did you need to know?” she inquired.

“We’re eating it for lunch tomorrow, in the gravy.” I informed her.

“Siick.” She droned.

“It says it’s used for flavoring, so it might not be too bad.” I told her as I thought of ways to get suspended from school by lunchtime the next day. It was either that or to completely slip away from reality, but I still wasn’t sure whether I’d do that, or where I’d go.

“Well, anyway, I do need a classical book for my report.”

“Hmm, how about this one.” Rachel pulled out an old, yellow book and showed it to me. A Prefect’s Uncle by P. G. Wodehouse. “It’s a British classic, and it was short.”

“What of me?” Freya asked.

“Do you have a book report due too?” Rachel asked.

“Eventually, I might.” Freya said.

“Then I’ll get one for you later, now get out.” Freya and I slipped out of her room.

Shiloh, did you feel that in the kitchen today?

''What you said about Daedalus and the dream? I did.''

Then you know the plan.

Yes, but I don't think it will work.

It will.

In fourth grade, we had to stay after school until all of the classrooms were empty, except for one. This was the one we had to stay in until our after school math classes were through. I didn't need them, but we carpooled with our half-mother, Leia, and she wanted her kids to go through it. One day, Kolleen, the teacher, cancelled the class. Since Leia didn’t know this, we were stuck at school for over an hour. On top of that, they promised us candy in the previous class and I didn’t get any. This damaged my soul. I decided then and there that I wouldn’t go to those anymore.

That night, my mother had an appointment with a DCFS officer (don’t ask it’s a long story), so we were at my half-mother’s house late. The only thing I really remember was that we sat out in the backyard looking at the stars that spring night. One of Leia’s kids pointed out an unusually bright star and called it the wishing star.

“No such thing.” said his older brother, Laurence. Of course, I had the mind of a young scientist, so I said: “How do you know that?”

“Because it’s stupid.” He replied.

“You’ll never know until you try, in fact, let’s try it.” I said.

“Yes, then we shall know for sure whether it’s true.” Freya said cheerfully.

“That would be cool if it was.” Said Abinadi, my six year old brother.

“Let’s find out, everyone make a wish, and hope it comes true. If we succeed, it’s real.” I said. We all closed our eyes like kids in a fairy tale and wished for what we wanted.

I wish the after school math classes would get cancelled for good.

My wish came true.

Over the past two years, I wondered if that was really the star that made my wish come true.

''It may have been a coincidence. ''Shiloh thought.

''Yeah but, aarrgh. ''I looked at Elisha’s alarm clock: 8:48 PM. I had spent hours pondering this question, as well as that blasted puzzle. These things hegemonized my time. I hadn’t finished my homework, or eaten at all. I just wanted answers. Maybe a good night’s rest would solve things, but I couldn’t sleep. My dream the night before had called me on a voyage, in order to go, I needed to leave behind all earthly attachments, including the puzzle. I leapt out of bed and went to the window. The moon shone through the window onto the white dresser I shared with Elisha. Lying in the moonlight was a map of Poland, with an X marking the place where my grandfather was born. Out in the night, our neighbor was rolling his dumpster to the road for the garbage truck the next morning. That was the same guy who’s kids stole our dog, not just any dog, but a purebred Danish mastiff, registered by the AKC. I really wished I could’ve stopped them, If only I knew all I did back then that I did now.

Next to the map of Poland was the puzzle, I picked it up and dashed upstairs.

“Get out!” Rachel said as I burst into her room.

“Freya, do you want this?” I asked as I held out the puzzle.

“Umm, sure. Why are you giving it to me?” she asked.

“I-er” I didn’t want to say it with Rachel there.

“Are you done?” Rachel asked.

“Yes,” I muttered. It didn’t feel right to leave Freya in the dark, but I couldn’t wait for her. Even the bond with my sister had to be relinquished in order to go where I wanted to go.

Once outside, I gazed at the North Star, rumored to be the star of the legendary Kolob, the planet of the gods. There was only one way to find out whether the cancellation of the math classes was a coincidence or not, and that was to duplicate the results. What harm could it possibly do, anyway?

“Star Light, Star Bright-“ I began. ''You know what? to heck with the cheesy rhymes. I didn’t do it last time anyway. I’m just going to make my wish.''

Five Years Later

The room looked like judgment day had occurred. Disfigured chair frames were scattered throughout the room. To my right, pictures were scattered around a mangled, overturned table. They were cherished memories, now cracked and discolored by the heat. I was able to recognize the figure of Brother Ezekiel on one of them, but nothing else. Perhaps it was better that I couldn’t see the images. I had failed to stop this twice. But I couldn’t let that get me down. My destination was on the other end of this room, in the closet.

The closet was small, six feet wide and four feet long, but each foot was stretched out to an immeasurable distance. One could run down this hallway for hours and not even move an inch. With my first step inside, I felt claustrophobic, despite the amazing hallway. The white tiles glittered with the reflection of the chandeliers and balconies above. I felt the floor for a particular tile, one with a corner that was above level with the floor. I dug my fingernails under the marble and lifted. A scraping sound echoed through the hallway as I loosened it from the floor. Underneath the tile was a ring bearing a pumpkin insignia. I clutched it in my hand and the hall phased from the illusionary one to the real one.

I breathed a sigh as I watched the room transform to its sorry state. The chandeliers had collapsed with the ceiling, revealing the smoky sky. Remnants of balconies smoldered on the sides, and at the end of the hall stood a beast with three thin reptilian heads. Each of the heads had bulging white eyes on the sides and a hole beneath each eye. On its back was a shell with spear-like spikes jutting out. Its back legs looked like a dinosaurs, and its forelegs looked like they could be used as hands. His mere presence made every part of my body feel like iron.

“You've arrived.” it said.

“I have,” I replied, trying not to let my anger show in my voice. “Antaeus, is it?” I asked.

“Correct.” it replied.

“You're a bit more repulsive than your brother.” I told him.

“I have been reborn many times since my conception.” he replied. As it spoke, heat waves emitted from its breath. “My brother awaits you, he is at the great tree.”

“Good, tell him I'll be there.” I told the beast.

“I'm going with you.” he said.

“Fine,” I told him. “But you won’t keep up.”

I ran past him through the hallway to the forest on the other end, which was burned worse than the hall. black remains of the branches spread across the ground like begging hands with bony fingers. The only things that weren't burned were the murels, which sprouted everywhere, giving the forest a disgusting look.

I’ll get him for this, I thought as I dashed through the remains of the forest. I was careful not to touch the trees, even when I had to jump over or duck under the fallen ones. Looking at them was hard enough, and I couldn’t give in to emotions if I wanted to make it through here.

“You know where he is, right?” Antaeus asked me.

“Of course I do, it's where the mushrooms become more dense.” I told him. “You think I can get lost here?”

“You were lost in the hallway.” he remarked.

“That was different.” I told him. “I'm going to get something before I meet your brother, but if you go tell him I'll be there as soon as possible, I'll be there.”

“That I'll do.” Antaeus said. He ambled through the forest. when I could no longer hear his footsteps, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I soon came across what I was looking for in an an undisturbed clearing. A lance protruded from a white stone. I pulled it out with ease and practiced swinging it around. It was time to show them who the true master of this forest was.

I followed a path leading through a thicket of willows that were just fading to an autumn yellow. A few horses grazed in the thick grass along the side of the road. The path I was following led to a river and hills off in the distance. I had to divert from it to reach my destination.

I neared the center of the forest, Solacil, the source of energy for this realm. If Antaeus’ word was anything to go by, I would find my adversary, Typhos, there.

The pale moonlight illuminated the clearing, where the outline of an enormous sumac tree loomed over the forest. The tree had most of his branches cut off, and the ones that remained had few leaves. In between where the branches once were, the tree was shaped like a woman gazing over the forest. At the bottom of the tree, I noticed a heap of something. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized it was my enemy, Typhos. He was very thin, the few hairs on his head were white, and he wore leather pants and a torn white t-shirt. As I took a step closer, he bolted up. His eyes made my heart want to stop. He reached into his shirt and pulled something out of his rib cage. It was his favorite brand of cigarette.

“Where’s Antaeus?” He asked me.

“Who cares?” I replied.

“I do. if he’s not around, I have to light this the human way. He probably died again.”

“What are you doing still here?” I asked him. He lit the cigarette, casting an eerie glow on his wrinkled face. Over his eyes was a shadow cast from his unnaturally large nose “I live here.” He said.

“Not anymore, you’re fired.” I told him.

The creature gave a slow laugh. “Fired? So this place is under your management now? What a shame, I thought I was doing a pretty good job. Did you see that hallway? I made it like that.” His eyes briefly flickered black, then went back to their usual color. As I looked into them, I felt uneasy. I suddenly remembered the bitterness of the first time I had been fired. I hated the way my had boss treated me, how he coldly threw me out with no second chances, but maybe it was necessary considering the way I acted. I really wasn’t doing my part, so my boss treated me that way. Maybe Typhos deserved the same thing. I gestured out to the ruined forest. “A good job? There’s nothing left.” His raspy laugh gave way to a fit of coughing.

He’s weaker than before, that prayer was stronger than I thought. I thought as he slammed his fist into the bark of the tree, coughing blood onto its roots. Ezekiel, I’m going to be using this now. I thrust the lance into his side. He gave me a cold glance and pulled the spear out. His blood spilled onto the ground, and the grass regrew where it fell. Typhos sputtered out blood from his mouth.

“I- I Have found my purpose. have you found- found yours?” he coughed. “I want to know, what-what you will do now.”

“I shall cast thee out.” I told him, using biblical English to show that there was some serious stuff going down.

“Me? OUT?” He asked, flexing his fingers in ways that aren’t possible for a human.

“You re- rely on Me.” He stammered. “I made-” He stopped and looked into the sky. “Hush now, the rebound.” He told me. He levitated into the air as a mist rose and encircled him. All across the forest, the trees grew again to heights they had never reached before. I felt like I was being thrown from my feet. I sat down to reclaim my stomach and saw Typhos hovering above me triumphantly. All throughout the forest an ethereal audience gave him ovation. Above him was an entire ocean covering the sky. The moon was still visible only because it was on the horizon. It shined on the water, which reflected into the forest.

“Can’t you see?” he asked me. “We could rebuild things like they were before!” He coughed again and fell to the ground in front of me.

“We can’t.” I told him. “Not like they were before.”

“Oh, and who are you to tell m- me that?” He asked. Suddenly, all of the hatred and bitterness he had been storing up blared into my ears as he transferred his feelings to my own heart.

“Josef!” I muttered. “Please- help.”

“Josef?” He asked, the mere mention of his name enraging him. “That Man?”

“I rebuke thee.” I said quietly. Nothing happened. Father, help me.

“Hehehe- Hehe- Told- Told You You Were Nothing. Will He Really Help You? Are You- You Abandoned By Your- Your Own God?”

“No,” I said. “He’s kept you at bay for years, and he’ll pull me through.” With those words came confidence. My old teacher’s power surged through me, paving the way for God’s spirit to flow through me.

“No- No! Don’t Do That.” Typhus objected, sounding less intimidating than before. “I Think.” He silently muttered. His energy loosening its grip.

Pathetic, he can’t even talk normally anymore.

“I rebuke thee, in the name of our savior!” I shouted. This time, it worked. Typhus shook violently, flailing his arms like a drunken man in a fist fight.

“Solacil, Sataniel, Give Me- Me- Me- Me- Me- Me- Me- Me- Me- Me- Me-“ He crumpled to the ground and disintegrated at the tree’s roots.

“It’s over.” I said aloud. I could feel the tree’s energy flowing outward, now free from Typhus’ iron grip, but it was dead. “Solacil. In the name of Jesus Christ, offer me this gift.” I immediately felt unification with the tree. It held all of my dearest memories, preserved from the fire, yet poisoned by Typhus’ fury. I saw myself going to school at Deseret Academy, felt the joy of those days before the advent of Typhus. Those days were the best of my life. I was young and innocent; it was a shame I had fallen so low.

“Father, forgive me, I have atoned my sins.” I muttered. “I pray for one last thing.”

5 Years Earlier

“That is my wish, heavenly father.” I told the star. It felt weird talking to something that was light years away and couldn’t hear my voice. I was glad there was nobody around. I felt the star’s response, an unknown power surging through me. I felt like I could do almost anything. I dropped to my knees and submitted myself before it. I then fell backward, hitting my head on the concrete. Everything faded to black as I slipped into a deep sleep.

5 Years Later

“That is my prayer.” I finished. The Lord’s spirit immediately surged through me. I felt like I could do almost anything.

“A wish got me into this mess, and a prayer will get me out.” I yelled.

A bright light shined over the tree, and a door appeared in it. I entered. Now everything that I waited for over the last five years had come. It was over. The villain had met his demise. The curtain called. All loose ends had been tied. I had conquered all my trials. This story is over.

The End

And a new one begins…