I gave him the signal to start the long drive with a wink of my eyebrow. Many plaid-shirtedarms began waving him on, and we all cheered for his success on his lone mission—one he’d waited his entire life for.
Everyone cracked a joke at his expense at the club that night, ice cubes clinking in their tumblers as they laughed. With the fire glowing in the background, they were merry with inebriation. But also wishing they could fly with their compadre and join him on his mission to Mars.
What they did not know, he was finally returning home.
With deliberate intention, the goal was to devour thousands of words. He reveled in the delicious anticipation of cerebral and sentimental fulfillment. Focused and ready for some relevant adscititious information to challenge his brain’s hunger for knowledge and fantasy. The emotions of the poets forcefully laid down impressions on his mind. Hours passed immersed in the stories and written essences of others. It colored him happy. And tired. The eyes slowly closed. All the words turned to dreams of mystical sunsets with a bareback unicorn ride on the beach, hair whipping in the wild wind.
The offer had me under a spell; it meant I would no longer be on the fray but drifting towards stardom. I had to sign this contract. The chase was over, no more trembling about my future. My lawyer would think me rash, but the original draft of the offer was enough to convince me not to pass on it. How could I when I knew the money would flow for us all?
His bright, red eyes drilled into me, yet my hand chose to linger above the signature line, hesitating.
Something inside begged me to reconsider the Devil’s deal.
I can hear the flutter of my heart, recalling the stories of our past. They still haunt me. One thought ignites a spark; my mood begins to lift and returns me to the time your words of love gave my life wings.
“Tina, are you with us?” My boss and the other staff stared me down.
“Yes, I am,” as I shift in my chair, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of me. I am filled with gratitude as my boss turns back to the whiteboard, and I return to the crystal clear waters of Eleuthera.
The crew, at the edge of the stars, peered into nothingness. With a roar of the engines, they pushed further than any had ever gone. Their role, as mission leaders, was to burn through to the other side. The chatter among the feline crew grew loud in the vessel’s hive construction—a sign of imminent victory.
But they never knew of the Federation sage’s curse chanted ominously into the haze of a smoky cauldron right before the ship’s mission. Acting alone and in secret, she compromised their mission.
She was the guardian of all knowledge; life’s mysteries had to remain hidden.
My thoughts flow free from the hives of my mindonto the papers adorned with the glow of the very early morning—weariness, the price I pay to give my words wings. Like a madwoman, I feel split. Either romanticize the truth or freely share it or tell shiny fiction. Laboring like a souped-up engine, I am witness to why I strive so much. What pours forth is nothing short of genius.
“Poor woman,” said the doctor from the observation window. “She’s been entirely too maniacal during her stint at this asylum. Give her a shot and calm her down. Stat.”