Would I lie to you? Yes. Probably.

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: April 5, 2024

Character: Amadeo Queshire
Race: Halfling – Human / Incubus
Age: 336, physically about 30
Current residence: Hawaii
 

---

Am I honest? To those who deserve my honesty, I am. To those who have earned neither my trust nor my desire for honesty… well it depends.

Am I a good person? If you ask Briar and Isidor both, they will likely tell you that I am. If you ask Judas, I think the answer might depend on the day and on the reason why such a question is asked. I don’t see myself as a good person but that is likely because of my bloodline more than anything else. There has been plenty that I’ve done in my life that I am not proud of, but I feel that all of those things were done out of necessity.

In my line of work, being able to read a person quickly and being able to tell whether or not that person can be trusted is a necessity, at least for me. Not that whether or not I trust a client will change things a whole lot. If they sign the paperwork, it’s a legally binding thing and even if I believe them to not be trustworthy at all, there’s nothing I can really do.

You can bet that I’ll be the first one to bring out that paperwork if they start to show signs of wanting to go against their contract. I’ve had to do it before, and I will do it again. However, I know that there are other means and some of these means are often possibly just borderline illegal. Mind you, my means are not illegal, they just nearly are. I know my laws well enough to skirt them just so if need be.

Lying to a client who is trying to bullshit their way out of a situation that is entirely their fault? I’ll be happy to. I’ll even let you know, once all is said and done, that if I have to lie to them, I will. Will I tell them what those lies might have been? No. Will I pepper those lies with some truth? Well, yes. That’s how it needs to be most of the time. You can’t just lie about everything.

Now, I haven’t always been this way, but ever since I did start working in this particular field, I admit that it’s been a little more common than not. I’m not saying I’m constantly lying to clients, I’m not. It just so happens that a good number of the people who do end up needing to see me directly are people who do better with little white lies sprinkled here and there, mostly to keep them in line.

I don’t know that I ever expected that this would be the way my life would turn out. I don’t think I ever imagined working in this particular field and yet, look where it has led me in life. A beautiful partner, my brother close by and a location that keeps those who do matter to me safer than any other we’d found so far.

Do I believe that we’ll still be here ten, or fifteen years down the road? I don’t know. Thankfully, it’s been a good choice for a location. Mother Nature aside, while my brother still has visitors every so often, they are not dropping by to see him daily and I’ve seen his health get better. He might not have realized how much his health was suffering from the constant in and out of the people who requested—demanded, truly—his help in many ways, shape or form. While he was unhappy with the change of pace, I don’t know that he has many reasons to complain at this point.

We have room to roam, and the house is big enough that if we don’t feel like seeing the others, it’s easy to manage. We’re a short way away from the nearest populated area but I don’t see that as a problem. I honestly think this is a good thing and I’m not about to begin complaining about this, especially since this house and location was my choice, first and foremost. I sort of swept Briar and Judas up and away without much of a choice.

I have no regrets about the decisions I’ve made that have led me to where I am now. Even if I did, there is nothing that could be done to change our past and there is no saying that anything done differently would lead to a better path further down the road. This is something I have learned very early on in my life, and I feel like living by that mindset will keep me on the best path that I can handle.

And if somehow, I become unhappy with something in my life… I will change it.

Final Word Count: 793

How do you always find me when I’m up to no good?

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: March 24, 2024

Character: Briar Queshire
Race: Halfling – Angel / Human
Age: 280, physically about 24
Current residence: Hawaii
 

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There are a lot of birds sometimes in, but mostly out and around the house. There are a lot of areas that are open to the outside with the main areas having heavy windows on a sliding panel setup which means we can open the house further up to nature when the weather permits, and it permits very often. Still, the window panels are often closed for night-time so that we don’t have to wake up with unwanted visitors in the house, especially so in the bedrooms.

I’m told the view is beautiful and I do believe it. I’ve heard the waves, the birds, the wind and all that accompanies the warmth of the sun on my face and the picture I am painted of the view outside is wonderful. I think Amadeo picked the perfect home for us when it was time to move from Sulby. I was reluctant at first, and there are days when I still feel as though I am useless, but the almost desperate need to help others has lessened over the years. I am still more than happy to help those who seek me out but there is no ache to the thought that my gifts are not as needed as they used to be.

Quite a few of my days are now spent either near horses—which is a delight in and of itself, as they are such big, gentle giants—or listening to the birds, the waves, and all other sounds nature has to offer. There are walks to be had, discoveries still to be made and tender moments to be had with Judas.

Over the past two weeks, we’ve had a new visitor to the house that I believe seems to think itself right at home with us. A bird of small size, by the sound of its wings that the others have seemed unable to locate within the walls of our home. They hear it as clearly as I do, and anytime I enter a room where it seems to be, its beautiful song changes somewhat and I like to imagine that it is asking me how it is that I always find it, especially when it is up to no good.

The thought makes me smile somewhat.

I always find it easily, but possibly because it just is easier for me as I work with sound, considering I have no sight. The only downside is that whenever I do find it in the room where I am, the others are never anywhere near and calling out for them would defeat the purpose of gently gathering our winged visitor to bring it back outside. While I can roam the house without any issues, gathering something new in my hands that might not wish to be handled is something I will leave to the others.

Were it a pest, I would possibly do what I can about it, but currently, other than being a chatty bird most of the time, it has caused no issues and I know how few of Hawaiʻi’s native birds remain. I will cause this bird no harm and at one point, I know that I will locate it with someone else near me and we can take action, as necessary. Until then, it can continue to serenade us as it wishes.

Though it does leave me to wonder if there is a reason why it made its way into the house, other than perhaps by accident. From its song, though I could be wrong, I am fairly certain that the nearby garden and the sheer number of plants, and potential bugs, we have all around the home are plenty enough to keep it fed for a while, so I’m not too worried about it. Its song never sounds distressed to me, and it makes me believe that it might just be partially lost, possibly seeking a way out, but is in no hurry to get to that.

When I first heard it in our bedroom, I thought one of the window panels had been left partially opened overnight and I could hear the morning songs of the birds outside, but when I realized that it was the only song I could hear, I figured out that it wasn’t quite that. I still don’t fully know when it came inside or how it did; we do open wide most of the panels, but we’ve never had issues with birds coming into the main rooms of the house before.

On that same note, a single bird getting inside and clearly getting turned around by the layout of the room is not going to change the fact that I will too open those glass panels every single day to get all the fresh air inside. Even when it rains, the panels are open, possibly not fully opened, depending on the direction of the rain, but they are open.

Final Word Count: 819

Prepare to be amazed by how skilled I am with this kazoo.

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: January 5, 2024

Character: Nobody Alkaev
Race: Doll – Porcelain
Age: 40, physically about 20
Current residence: Mayarí, Cuba
 

---

Two years and some time. That is what the woman who houses him would tell him if he were to ask how long it’s been since he and the other young man in their tiny little boat had made it to the shore of this mostly quiet place. The young man hasn’t gone very far but he hasn’t stayed around. Nobody has seen him now and again but there barely has been more than a glance spared.

Once the two of them were in a safer environment—something that took some doing as neither had paperwork nor did they seem to exist anywhere or in any fashion as far as the law might have been concerned—the young man had simply gone to do his own thing. There hadn’t been so much as a goodbye or a farewell.

Not that Nobody blamed the young man. While said young man had known Nobody to be more than a porcelain doll that their keeper moved every so often, they hadn’t had any closeness, not like some of the other boys—young men by that point—that had come to him every now and again to ask him questions about Chris.

A man that Nobody hasn’t really thought about since coming to this strange new place. It was difficult at first, mostly because he was struggling to adapt to this new world and it was just so painfully different; but, with passing time, his mind stopped going back to the island that had been taken from them and focused more on the present that surrounded him and breathed with him.

The older woman who took him in dotes on him and seems to ask nothing of him in return for her help. He cleans about the little house as best as he can; the language is no longer a barrier, but he speaks so little that she seems to not expect words from him. Something that is for the best, he feels like.

One of the things that terrified Nobody as he found himself settling carefully into the very quiet house, were the migraines that he had gotten so used to; they had been debilitating while he had been on the island and Chris had never found a long-term solution. They still come, the migraines, but they are less potent in a strange way and, this is something that he noticed fairly quickly—so to speak—is that they are much, much less common.

Since the time that he and the other young man have landed on this new land, Nobody has counted his migraines as they come and in all of the time, there have been fewer than he has fingers. A blessing as they came from nowhere on the island and they were near-constant.

There are triggers to the migraines now and Nobody tries to avoid them to the best of his ability. A feat at times, especially since the older woman has new neighbours and those neighbours have younger children.

Just a few days ago, the oldest of the children—the only boy that Nobody has noticed, and he was about the age that some of the boys were while on the island—came by to show the woman how skilled he was with this very noisy thing that he called an instrument. The moment the boy started blowing into whatever it was, the migraine took hold of Nobody, and he moved back deeper into the house and into his room. A place of darkness with the blinds all drawn and the door closed.

Hours later, or so it possibly was, the woman came to check in on him; she brought him water and some soup after telling him, just softly, that the boy and his kazoo were gone. Nobody didn’t know what a kazoo was, but if it was the thing that the boy had made the noise with, he wanted nothing to do with it, not if he could help it at all.

It thankfully only took a couple of days for the migraine to subside, something wonderful in and of itself considering how much longer they used to last while he was on the island.

As he stepped from his bedroom for the first time in those two days, she smiled at him sweetly and let him be. She calls him Cassius when she seems to think he might not hear. A name spoken under her breath more often than not but with a sweet note of fondness to it. Nobody hadn’t given her his name, but the young man with him had told her what he had been called and she had tsked softly. It hadn’t taken long before she had given him another name.

Not that he minds; Cassius is a nice enough name, and he knows that she speaks to him when she says the name. It’s a marker of his new beginning, in a way.

Final Word Count: 821

The truth is, I know who you are and what you will become.

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: December 12, 2023

Character: Gabriel Preadon
Race: Angel
Age: 26, physically about 20
Current residence: Hawaii
 

---

I don’t like to think about my before-life. When I do, I end up thinking about my brother and I worry about what mom might still be doing to him. I worry about whether or not he’s still okay and alive, and doing well. I still don’t fully understand why I’m here and how I made it here, but these are all things that I know I have no control over, so I try not to think about it all too much.

I don’t know that I do dream about what life was like before. It was hell in and of itself and waking up here, and finding William not long after, was just the sweetest blessing I could ever find.

Now and again, though, I know I do dream about that before-life because I remember what I was dreaming about. It’s uncommon and I don’t much care to think about it but the most recent dream, of which, like everything else, I can only remember a snippet, has me just so confused because it felt real. Because the things that did happen in that dream remind me of a lot of what was going on through my mind when I was in that drug haze due to mom.

It was common closer to the end of my days before everything spiralled and I came to be here. In that haze, I would often see a humanoid shape, a shape I couldn’t confirm as being male or female. It was tall, slim and soft if I can even say that. It wasn’t human, I guess? The shape itself was mostly made of soft light most of the time, which is why I know my brain still thinks of it as being soft.

The voice that came from the shape was just as gentle and soft, but it was still of an unknown gender. I don’t know why I felt the need to cling to the idea of determining its gender back then; my brain was in a haze most of the time, my body was failing me, and I had nothing else to do. I didn’t want to think about what was happening to me in the real world, so focusing on what was right in front of my hallucinating eyes made sense.

The voice would often tell me that it knew who I was, and what I would become. It was the truth as far as it was aware, and it had never been wrong. I remember trying to ask questions, I remember wanting to know more about this potential future it knew for me that I didn’t know for myself. Would I be saved from this hell? Would I be with William again? Would we have our happily ever after?

Because sure, I might have been drugged out of my mind and used as a test subject, but I knew that William meant the world to me, even in that haze. I wanted little more than to be with him forever and a day. Be with him and save both myself and my brother from this hell.

The dream was fairly similar, except the figure in that dream was much smaller than I remembered it being. It was more defined with curls that felt so familiar, and I could even see those beautiful eyes and they were all just so familiar that it’s what woke me with a start. By that point, the figure had already reminded me of the things it had always told me while I was in that haze but there still had been something different.

Different, to the point that I spent a long time, after waking up, trying to understand why the figure in my dream had felt so familiar. Even now, I don’t know why it does, but I’ve come to a different realization, and I don’t know how to handle the knowledge.

I don’t remember what my brother looked like. I can look at my reflection in the mirror all I want, but I don’t see my brother in me, and I don’t recall what he looked like at all. It’s not that I’ve set him aside and forgotten all about him since I’ve come here, furthest from. I think about him every so often, but I guess that I mostly remember the hell we’ve been through and his voice to a point, but I don’t remember what he looks like at all.

Coming to this realization hurts. I don’t want to forget how he looks. However, I suppose this is no different than forgetting how anyone else looks once they’re no longer in your life for any length of time. I have nothing here that belonged to him, I suppose that this is one of those things with dying; you don’t get to keep souvenirs.

All I can do is remember the thought of him and do so fondly.

Final Word Count: 818

Keep that sappiness away from me until I’ve had at least one cup of coffee or tea.

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: November 24, 2023

Character: Kazumi Eto
Race: Human – Meta
Age: 33
Current residence: Port-Vila, Vanuatu
 

---

How did things tumble out of control the way they did? It has been a few months already and I still wake up in the morning and wonder how I did not see it. For years, we had been doing fine. For years, I had been the one they vented to as needing it—their friends were not truly friends and only seemed to see them as a butter of sorts; they were the one who offered for us to share living accommodations though I had already had the house I had been renting and they moved in with me since it was bigger with a larger yard.

For some years we lived together. I felt that they loved me as a friend would and I found myself returning that sentiment. We had been drawn together as we had been from the same school. There were—still are, as far as I am aware—a few others who also went to the school we did, who came here. I have no idea how it might happen; the school was not huge by any means, but it does seem as though we are drawn to our own.

Not that I spend any time with them. Their behaviour with my friend—ex-friend, I guess now—made it clear that I wanted little to do with them and I know that with my selective mutism, they would have seen that as the perfect excuse to try and get away with even more things that would not have ended well for me.

Instead of thinking too much about the fact that the house is now as quiet inside as it was when I first moved in—something I find myself not minding as much as I could, though I do somewhat miss the companionship—I spend more time in the garden as I tend to always do. It is my place and I still tend to it as it deserves; it is that one friend that will never truly leave me.

We were sitting around the breakfast table, and I was bringing them the usual plate of breakfast that we shared every so often; I set the plate down, offered them a smile as I’ve done thousands of times before, and I turned to go and get the two cups. Coffee for them, tea for myself. I barely had time to pick up both of the cups that they snapped at me; they told me that I had best keep my sappiness away from them until they’d had that first cup of coffee.

Now, there have been times when they have been grumpy in the morning. There are nights—were nights—when sleep was elusive for them, and they struggled to get a good bit of rest. The other times, it was because they did go out to locations that mattered little to me and did come home smelling somewhat of alcohol. I never held that against them.

On that morning, things didn’t happen quite in the way they had before and even without so much as an explanation, they went on a tirade about how I’m too touchy—I’m not, not really, the only times I might have brushed against them or touched them was while offering plates of food or helping with tasks—and about how I was just using them and—well, there was a whole lot to their anger that morning and I couldn’t understand most of the reasoning behind it.

Most of the things they accused me of were things I didn’t do. One of those accusations was about how I talked too much, too loudly, too crassly. It’s hard for me to even form words and here, at home, my selective mutism had eased somewhat, but just barely and only ever so while I was in the garden, and they were the one to initiate the discussion.

I don’t know what came over them. All I know is that within a few hours, they had packed up their clothes—everything in the house was mine—and they were gone. I didn’t even really have time to try and wrap my mind around anything. How was it that I was accused of being too sappy—I was bringing them their coffee—and how did that set everything off?

In a way, I suppose I may never know. I think that I might have expected them to come back just a few days later; maybe a week or three so that they would have time to blow off the steam that had clearly accumulated inside, but no. They’ve been gone; they haven’t reached out and I have no idea if they even still are here at all.

What can I do, truly? It feels like a betrayal of sorts, but I deal with it, at this point. I have work to do and while it isn’t truly work since it involves the gardens at a few different places, it still is work and I cannot spend my time brooding at home. I can live by myself if I have to.

Final Word Count: 850

We’re both going into this knowing that it’s quite possibly the worst thing we could do. Are you ready?

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: November 7, 2023

Character: Asrael Baltimore
Race: Human
Age: 32
Current residence: Paphos, Cyprus
 

---

I had to take a break for several months after Eryx had passed. The scene from the book I had been writing, which I ended up writing just a week after that passing, felt too raw for me to be able to manage it; it was so similar, yet so different that it made me physically ache and I couldn’t handle it. I had planned that scene for a long time, never expecting that Eryx would be leaving at all, not for just a year that then turned into forever.

Still, in spring of last year, I was able to finally continue working on the book. It was hard work, I did change that one chapter a bit but not half as much as I could have. I think that if I had changed it as drastically as some part of me wanted, the book wouldn’t have flowed the way it was meant to. I had to move on from his death and keep working.

It wouldn’t do to not have a roof over my head and food in my belly after all, right? Yeah. I had no plans of going homeless, I’d made it this far in life, and I still had a very comfortable cushion following an issue from my teen years, and that cushion had been fluffed back up following Eryx’s passing. I knew he’d had life insurance, I’d had no idea I was the sole name on that paperwork, though. I’m not letting myself just live off of that, though. That would feel like I’m wasting my life, and I can’t do that.

So, I got back into writing; that was the hardest part of the two. I’d managed to doodle and scribble a bit over the last few months. It was nothing overly polished but when I had posted them online, they’d been swarmed with good comments; it helped.

Once the book was actually finished, I debated publishing it as a whole on a platform where I could get something in return for the sales. I’m well aware that plenty of people like to read online but there still are quite a few folks out there who much prefer to have a paper copy in hand. I’d talked that one over with Eryx long ago. When I’d just started writing this book, I’d found it in me to joke to him about how the idea of trying to self-publish was possibly going to be the worst thing I could ever do. I had read a few books that had been self-published by authors and while it wasn’t all of them, a good few of them were riddled with typos, grammatical issues, and other things that made it hard to keep up with the story without being distracted.

I didn’t want that.

He’s the one who told me that there were groups of people out there who could be reached out to who would pre-read your books, they were something like beta readers. They read your books and pointed out mistakes, inconsistencies, and things like that. I didn’t know whom to reach out to, for these things, but I posted in a writer’s forum that I frequented. I had more takers than I thought I ever would. Of the four I reached out to, one turned out to be a complete failure but the other three were good to me.

They’re still good to me.

Does that mean that the book I’ve published is absolutely mistake-free, grammar-perfect and everyone’s cup of tea? Not really. But it does mean that there are fewer typos in there than there had been at first. I was startled, to say the least, when my first beta reader came back to me with the highlights of the book. They were little things, but they did detract from the read. Some were slightly misspelled words, but others were issues that were a little more in-your-face. Writing one word, while I was trying to write another, they might start with the same letters but have absolutely nothing in common.

Those were a little more present in the book but once those were highlighted, I was happy to fix them.

When my second and third got back to me about things too; there were a lot of similar issues brought up with a few extra ones; so all in all, I feel that with these three with me, and my editor whom I’ve found through the same forum, the book was in good hands. I haven’t done the corrections online; I’ve changed things in the books, switched a few scenes to better fit, and I’ve told my online readers about that and, you know, they seemed okay with that. They get the pre-publishing checked book and if they want the final copy, they do have to buy it. It’s not that expensive either.

In a much shorter amount of time—a feat I’m still amazed at myself for—I’ve actually published a second book since then. Neither one of them is at the top of any charts, but I’m in the top one hundred of some of them, so you know, I’ll take that as a marvellous thing.

Life’s still hard, I’m not gonna lie. Life is still difficult with Eryx just completely gone from my it but I’m making the best of it.

Final Word Count: 886

I want you to know that, while it was my fault, I never meant for it to happen.

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: October 29, 2023

Character: Phobos Demetriou
Race: Human – Meta – Ice
Age: 27
Current residence: Chester, Pennsylvania
 

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I know I’m lucid dreaming, but I still can’t pull myself away from the scene. I can feel the heat of the flames lick at my face despite the fact that I’m standing to what amounts to being across the street from the carnage. I’m the only one there. There is no one else around and there will not be anyone else around. The cabin is an inferno and what makes this even clearer that I’m in a dream is that the flames are clinging to the cabin itself and not even trying to reach for the trees that are so close to their grasp.

All I can feel, other than the heat of those flames, is little more than the absolute ache of a broken heart. Mine, as well as the reason for that cabin to be burning. A man who never truly made it to the age he looks as he stands there, in front of me. I hate that he died so young. He overheated, his nature took over and that was that. I suppose it is symbolic that he would be in my dream, surrounded by fire.

Hououji does look my age just now, give or take. He was around our age all those years ago when he passed, so I suppose that it makes sense that my mind might be trying to age him somewhat from what I remember him looking.

He looks heartbroken as he stands there; the flames not even touching him though they surround him. A few of us had had some vague hopes that due to his nature, he would come back to us, but I guess that even that hadn’t been enough. He hasn’t said a word since we started this staring contest. He stands in the door frame of the cabin, I stand a street away, give or take, and we stare. The look on his face tells me that he blames himself for what is happening—I don’t know if this would apply to what happened back then, or what is happening right now in this dream—but that he never meant for it to happen.

I don’t blame him for what happened back then. None of us actually blame him. He was strong, but the fire in him was stronger. Unless he had been feeling suicidal—which none of us believe he had been, but he’d been so secretive, we could have been wrong—he wouldn’t have meant for that fire to consume him and take him away.

We all mourned him in different ways, in the end.

Out of nowhere, there is a brilliant flash of light and I’m out of the dream. My face burns and there are wet tracks down my face. My nose is stuffed and for once, I’m grateful to have been the one on the outside this time around. It makes it easier to ease from the bed without waking the other two. I wobble for a moment as I get to my feet but once I’m steady enough, I quietly make my way to the bathroom.

With the door closed fully, I turn on the light at a low level. The face that greets me is marred with soot fingerprints as though he reached out to me before the dream went. I know how unlikely that is and the fact that my face is reddened and feels tender, I can tell that there was something more to this particular dream, lucid or otherwise. Moon will take one look at me when he wakes and know that I just wasn’t out too long in the sun. Neither one of us spends that much time out in the sun, we both burn, even with sunscreen applied.

Instead of spending half an eternity wondering what happened and why he left marks on me through the dream, I just find the burn cream we have in every bathroom and, after washing my face up gently, I dab the cream at the spots that look worse than the others. I know it will probably be better within a day’s time, but I’d rather not chance it. I hate how bad burns hurt and while I know that my nature will take over to deal with the remaining heat, I’d just prefer to get a head start.

Once I’m sufficiently creamed, I’m back in our bedroom, quiet as I can be on my feet, I find something to wrap myself in and I step out to let them finish their nights. It’s still early in the morning, around four or so that I can tell, I’m not getting back into that bed. It’s a miracle in itself I was able to get out of it without waking either one of them—Moon most of all since he’s such a light sleeper—so it’s best that I just head out. I can settle into one of the living rooms, or maybe I’ll even go into the greenhouse. I’m not going near any of the fireplaces, no matter how safe they are. Not today.

Final Word Count: 844

Do you not appreciate my flair for the dramatics? I thought I was doing so well.

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: September 10, 2023

Character: Rhett Yates
Race: Human
Age: 35
Current residence: Los Angeles, California
 

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At times, people seem to think that horses are dumb animals. I beg to differ. They’re smart as can be, they learn with the best of them, and you can teach them just about anything if you set your mind to it. With some, it’ll require far more patience, of course, but with others, it just takes a bit of time. Looking at our permanent residents, that was a mixed bag. Some took to at least the basic knowledge easily but others required so much more time.

A woman brought her horse in for me a few days ago because she wanted me to get it used to the saddle. I was told that she’d tried a world of things and that none of them had actually worked in her favour. The horse did what it wanted and one of the trainers she had brought in had even been kicked and nipped hard enough.

Upon the first approach, I realized that the poor boy had trust issues and by the marks on his flanks and thighs, I was not all that surprised. Now, in all the times I’ve had horses brought to me, there have been plenty during which I wish I could have just called the owners and told them to better treat their animals, but I don’t have the full history, I don’t know if the animal came to them the way it is now. There are too many variables.

So up until now, I’ve been trying to build up some trust between us. I told his owner that it would take time and she told me that he could stay with me as long as I needed. She almost made it sound like she didn’t care if I just flat-out kept him as my own. It’s almost tempting.

I’ve noticed that he’s pretty good at getting himself in and out of places he shouldn’t, I have locks in places that have confused him to this point but most of the fences are only latched and he opens those easily. It amuses me and clearly, it amuses him. I swear that if he could talk, the way he prances out there once he’s done, it’s as though he’s letting the world know that he’s the best and that no one can stop him. He has a flair for the dramatics, and it amuses me.

Little by little, though, I’m trying to build trust. I’ve worked on getting him to understand that if I show him the brush and he touches it, I’ll brush him, but if it doesn’t touch it, I won’t. The first time I did, and he touched it, once I started brushing his rump, he tried to kick me, and it had come out of nowhere. His demeanour had been so calm up until that second. One look at him told me that he seemed stupidly pleased with his little move.

As I said, this boy has a major flair for dramatics. I could do without it.

As far as other horses are concerned, he’s an absolute sweetheart. He gets along with Atticus and Nutmeg just fine, though Meeka is a bit of a problem, but Meeka is a problem with everyone, so I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s the problem more than our boarder currently.

I don’t know how long he’s staying for but at this point, I’m just adding in the days to the bills, and I plan on sending a weekly thing in. I’ve had issues with a few renters before who wanted the bill only at the very end of the stay for their horses and when they did receive that final bill, they refused to pay. The law had to be involved.

In the case of this particular boarder, as we were discussing the contracts and the price and everything, I asked her how often she wanted the bill for the time of his stay and she’s the one who said that every week was fine. Normally I’d have sent one at month’s end as I do with most longer-term boarders but I’m fine with that. It’s a flat fee for her every week and if she pays on time, then we won’t have any issues and that’s all there is to that, I think.

This sweet baby can stay as long as necessary. She plans on checking in on him every so often to see the progress he’s made and I’ll go from there. She knows that trust has to be built before he might even consider the saddle at all and that’s all there is to it. Flair for the dramatics or otherwise, I know that I can slowly, carefully, work him through his issues.

Final Word Count: 787

This is why I don’t trust you with anything, much less my precious plants.

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: July 17, 2023

Character: Singh Waterfield
Race: Human
Age: 31
Current residence: Xiang Po, Terraphim
 

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The embroidery was finally done. It had taken him the better part of the last four months, but he was fine with that. It had been a big piece detailed along the back and long sleeves of the kimono and the one who had requested the piece had given him a year to finish it. His biggest piece to date certainly and the requester had come by every other week to check in on the progress. Singh hadn’t complained. He was used to being checked upon like that—or well, he’d been used to it for the life he’d lived before now.

The checking on was different at this point, it wasn’t so much about whether or not he had been doing physically well enough to take on a new client, it had been to see his progress and if what was being done was up to par with what had been requested.

On that first visit, things had been touch-and-go, there was so little work done—mostly because he had worked the sketch into the kimono with a pen that would fade within a few months on its own, or weeks if given a gentle wash—that it had seemed as though there was very little to show off. Once he had explained in just a few words the extent of what he had done and how it would look, it seemed as though trust had been regained between the requester and himself.

Singh hardly worried about the quality of his work, he was a bit of a perfectionist, though he’d learned not to go over things too often. Perfection was rarely attainable and what seemed perfect to him had chances of not being perfect for the person the embroidery was being done for. It was something he learned as he went. Not all clients wanted things done exactly the same way, but it kept him busy. Most pieces were small, done on pieces meant to sit on a desk or be hung but now and again, he could work on clothing items.

On one of the last visits from the requester, Singh had been in the middle of finalizing details along the left sleeve. The back had been completed for a few days and that left him with completing both sleeves though they were more than three quarters done. Only a few extra details were needed so that the piece would come together the way it had been envisioned and explained to him.

He heard them coming his way long before he saw them. They were talking about plants, something he’d never fully been able to wrap his mind around. He loved the sight of plants around the household, that was hardly the issue. No, the issue was mostly from the fact that he couldn’t keep a plant alive to save his life. He couldn’t understand when to water them and when not to. Perhaps simply from the fact that it had never been one of those things he had learned in his younger years.

From his slight experience with the plants around their own home, not two of them required the same amount of water or care; not two of them needed the same soil mix and just—it was too much for him to wish to wrap his mind around. Embroidery was easier, though he was fairly certain that others would not think the same and it was fine.

The requester and their companion—they always came together, and Singh offered no judgement, it wasn’t his place, nor was it his place to assume they might be anything more than friends—were talking loudly as they walked down the quiet corridor and it was hard to miss that it was the requester’s companion who spoke most. They mentioned something about how they could hardly trust the requester with anything, much less their precious plants.

It made him smile somewhat but, at the same time, it puzzled him. The two were always together when they did come to him, they always seemed to get along just perfectly fine, so it was odd for him to hear that kind of talk, even if the tone didn’t match it. There had been some exasperation in those words but perhaps still some affection. The latter was an emotion Singh still wasn’t fully certain he understood, not when it came to others.

Even though he heard them speak this way, he didn’t engage either one of them on the subject when they stepped into the room where he had been working. Instead, he veered their discussion—with few but meaningful words—towards the nearly completed piece. It was the pleased look in their eyes that told him that his last few months had not been in vain; not that he thought that much but the idea that something he’d worked so hard on would not have been accepted had sat heavily in him.

So, when all was said and done, and the kimono had been wrapped up and packed away, he’d breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a good project, but a big one and he’d been glad to have finished it.

Final Word Count: 863

Someone as amazing as you shouldn’t worry about ever being a bother to me. Understand?

Timeline/World: Edge of Forever – Gifted Ones
Current Date: July 14, 2023

Character: Rhys Yates
Race: Human
Age: 34
Current residence: Los Angeles, California
 

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At times, on the quieter days, I find myself gravitating towards the yard to help Rhett with everything. Mind you, I help him out there any time I have the energy for it, and I check in every single day with him about things. It’s not because the three of us work out of the house that we don’t have to help him with work here, that’s not how these things work.

Most of the time, he’s got everything going just fine and he doesn’t need any extra help. He’s a little stubborn about these things. It’s hard to imagine that it’s been seven years since the bear. It took him months, close to a year really, before he was fully able to use his arm again, I needed almost six months before I stopped feeling that my shoulder was being sluggish. I think we all have nightmares about that day, but it now became a once-in-a-blue-moon thing.

I remember how Atticus refused to head back outside after the fact. He’d stay in the barn while Nutmeg, Meeka and the others were happily going back outside. Rhett mentioned something about how he managed to get Atticus back outside by chomping on the carrot he’d offered the big, four-legged idiot. I guess Atti took that personally. It was meant to be his, after all. That still makes me smile.

We do still get—or I guess I should say Rhett since it is essentially his business even though we all help to a point—boarders and those who come in for training and it keeps him plenty occupied. I think that for a while, we all were pretty worried about how things would turn out, in the long run. My brother is stubborn if nothing else but being mauled by a bear in the way he’d been, I guess that I imagined it would leave deeper emotional scars than it seems to have.

I’m not complaining about that. I’m glad as could be that my brother seems to have no true lasting effects other than the scars on his shoulder. I know that our bond has deepened on that night and there are days when I find myself questioning things a little. I worry about what will happen to us when we’re all old and grey and when the time comes for all of us to pass on. That’s still decades down the road but it’s one of those things that I do think about every so often, I can’t help it.

At times, when I check in on him in the stables, he’s lost in his own world. He’s taking care of the horses, the goats, and the one pair of geese that have somehow made our yard—and the far-off pond—their home. They’ve been with us for a couple of years now and I’m pretty sure that only Rhett could have somehow managed to befriend them the way he did. Of the four of us, in any case.

When he’s lost in his own world, there are times when I catch him just talking to the horses or even the goat-mama. He’s always reminding these gentle giants—as far as the horses are concerned in size—that they’re amazing and should never feel as though they’re a bother to him or anyone. It makes me wonder if he thinks the animals can understand him or if he’s just being an empathic soul and assuming that this might be how they feel.

Now and again, I find myself just speechless at how resilient my brother is. Between his dangerous food allergies and his issue with all technology-based things, I feel as though many would have given up a long time ago, but not my beautiful, wonderful Rhett. He works hard, he never really complains, and he’s always willing to lend a hand, even if it puts him in a situation that will make him uncomfortable and just, I’m amazed.

I might be the outgoing one of us two and the one who’ll run headfirst into new situations, but he’s always there to help me back up if I fall. All four of us in this house are living in a sort of perfect harmony and I can’t even begin to put it all into words. Not that I feel as though I need to do that but there’s just something there, something I can’t fully explain or whatever.

The four of us together, I don’t think there’s anything better out there. Not in my eyes. In the eyes of others, I’m certain that they believe that there is probably so much better than what we have going on here, but I don’t care, none of that matters to me, not as long as I have these three in my life.

Final Word Count: 806