Are you two fighting over a stray dog again? I swear I look away for five seconds…

Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Current Date: May 9, 2024

Character: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 49
Current residence: New York City Ruins, New York
 

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I know that cats have somehow survived the snow. I don’t know if it was because there were some in the bunker though that seems unlikely, or if somehow, they found a spot deep enough in the earth, in a cave, or just somewhere, where they waited out the cold, but they survived. I’m not about to say that we’re overrun, but there are quite a few cats roaming around the hub and I don’t know why, but every now and again, I wonder to myself what would happen to them again if we were to have to either go back into the bunkers or, even more foolish is that thought, but have to take to the stars.

I mean, that’s pure fantasy at this point—the idea of taking to the stars—and there’s no reason why we would have to go back into the bunker, from what information we’re still given about the general weather from the one or two satellites still somehow floating out there in space.

I’ve seen dogs too, that one surprised me. Not because I would have expected dogs to survive any less than cats if it came down to it, but these were big dogs and I truly have absolutely no idea as to how any type of survival happened on any of them. The bigger the dog, the shorter the life, I’ve known this since I was a wee lass, and it might be why I’ve never been a fan of owning a dog. That would be one of the few reasons but still.

I saw a small group of children earlier just trying to understand what it was that they were looking at, from my spot, I don’t know that I would have been able to tell either, but it did look like a cat if I’m honest. A strange, possibly mutated—not in a bad way, I’d say—cat, but still just a cat. They weren’t touching it, though, just sort of standing in a semi-circle around it and talking in surprisingly quiet tones.

It reminded me of some of the kids I used to take care of at the daycare. They were young but they were spirited and there were days when I wasn’t sure how I was ever supposed to handle them and their boundless energy. It’s been decades at this point, but there is one morning that I do remember; this mother of two would drop her boys off with us at eight o’clock sharp. Not a minute early, not a minute late. Always eight o’clock. Except for that one morning and as she came in, a whole five minutes late, she was shaking her head, looking clearly exasperated.

She half-explained that the boys had been fighting over a stray dog, of all things. That she’d looked away for all of a single—or five—second, just enough to get something from the car before she could get them settled in and lo and behold, she turned back around, they were fighting over a stray dog that scampered away pretty dang quick once both boys were suitably distracted from it.

All I could do on that day was just smile at her, tell her that it was all right, that five minutes was not the end of everything—I’ve learned early on to not use the statement of things not being the end of the world—and that she could pick them up at her usual time and there would be no problems in the long run. We could even cut that five minutes off from her fee—a minimal amount but it seemed to make her happy.

She was early picking up those very kids, as though another five removed from a nearly ten-hour day would change the final fee at the end of that day. Not that we argued with her, the woman was fairly set in her ways and that’s all there was to it in the end.

I’m a little curious about the dogs that I’ve seen. Though it’s been some time since I’ve seen any and I wonder if they’ve all just aged and passed on. That would be a bit sad; especially if there were no others but I’m not about to go around, asking people if they know anything about it. If I see them again, I will, if I don’t, there are plenty of cats that people have been trying to domesticate all over again to pet and relax with.

Not that I’ve ever been much of a cat person either, I couldn’t really when I was growing up and between Lauren and the boys when she came back into my life, a pet never really happened and I think that it’s not such a bad thing, in the end.

Final Word Count: 801

You have the patience of a toddler that wants their favourite toy.

Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 1st Generation
Current Date: October 20, 2058

Character: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 93, physically about 28
Current residence: Atheria City, Eresiel
 

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Some might not care to believe the thought, but plants are finicky. Plants can have a mind of their own and they can very much so decide that they are done with your nonsense and will die right there and then, no matter how much time and care you’ve offered them. That’s just one of these things, really. I know that, to many, this statement makes no sense, but as someone whose craft comes from these very plants, I know that they have a mind of their own.

Now, I am certainly not about to say that these plants know what time it is and that they can form thoughts, no, but they still have some sense, if you would, of things, that I can consider them as having a mind of their own, even if that mind is closer to the level of some bugs than, say, a pet or a familiar. Let’s not let any of the ones I have growing in the greenhouse hear me saying this. They might not understand the words but trust me that they will understand the sentiment attached to the tone used with the words.

I have one particular plant that quite likes its set hours of sun, its set amount of water on set days and, if I dare deviate from that routine, I know almost instantly. Not so long ago, to myself more to the plant, I compared it to a toddler that wanted its favourite toy and clearly had no patience for any of it. I had been half an hour late to get to the greenhouse to open the blinds on that side. I have tried automated systems, and it wasn’t quite enough.

When I stepped inside, it was droopy and wilted as though it had gone days, no, weeks without any form of watering and I could only just shake my head at it all. Some of the leaves were dull as though they had also lacked light because I do have an automated light system—based on the light that does come in—to ensure that this particular plant has all the light it requires.

I’m not this much of a fusser for all of my plants but I do go somewhat out of my way to ensure all of them have what they need. I wouldn’t be putting up quite that much of a fuss about this one if it wasn’t an ancestral plant that no longer grows anywhere else. I’m sure that if I were to harvest some of its seeds—though it only flowers once every eight years and only for a day or two—I could most likely have someone else handle a new generation. I can only imagine the fussing that still would be required to handle this whole thing, in the end.

I don’t mind, not really. It does make me roll my eyes when I notice the sort of theatrics it shows because that’s what it all is. The moment I open the blinds, even if the sun isn’t blindingly shining, it will begin to turn that way. The moment I give it just a few drops of water that don’t even have time to sink through its soil to its roots, it will perk up. This plant is an expert manipulator and that is all there is to it.

If it wasn’t one of the last things I have of my childhood and the place where I grew up—gift and craft aside—I don’t know that I would put that much effort into keeping it in top shape. I still remember how frustrating they were when I was so much younger and still at home. I remember the women groaning in frustration when they were told that it was their turn to be on the rota for the plant.

Its bloom can be used in so many ways; this is one of the other reasons why I make sure that this toddler-like plant is well taken care of. I know how much Simon loves having a handful of the blooms when I do get them, and he can make so much out of it because even just a pinch of it is enough for months worth of items. It just is so potent.

So, patience of a toddler wanting their favourite toy or not; this plant is getting the care it needs. When we step away, I ask Lauren to come in to check on it. She knows exactly how to take care of it and I’m not even worried about it. I was surprised when I planted that seed and it grew at all, so I’m going to keep working at it to keep it going.

Final Word Count: 792

This is a very bad idea and I can tell you for sure that you won’t like what happens next.

 
Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 91, physically about 28
Current residence: Atheria City, Eresiel
Final Word Count: 753 words
 

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I have very few memories of my father. Memories of my childhood speak of a home and of a village that was mainly matriarchal. I don’t think this was such a bad thing. The women in my life knew how to take care of the tasks that needed taken care of, but, of what I do remember before I left and never went back, is that men were thought of as women seemed to be in a lot of places in the world. They were of the lower class, they were good for some physical labour and as bed warmers, but otherwise, it was the women that had the final say on things.

Now, thinking back, I know that we didn’t treat them like they were not worth a thought or that they were lower than low. They merely were not trusted for the bigger decision though I know that my mother and the others still took the men’s health and well-being into consideration.

Growing up, I didn’t think this was such a bad thing, it was all I knew. Still, a small part of me always wondered why it was this way and why everyone was not seen as an equal. I was a teen when I first asked my mom this and she made it abundantly clear to me that only the women carried the power of the craft and that this made them natural leaders.

I couldn’t agree with her, not really. It isn’t because you have a gift for the craft that you should treat others as being unable to make those big decisions. I know that it wasn’t overly long after that particular moment in our lives that I decided I was leaving. Being a fairly obedient daughter, I told my mother about my decision to take on the world—if you would. It was long ago, but I still remember the stern look on her face, the sad shift in her eyes as she told me that this was a very bad idea. That we had to stay together. She tried to tell me that she knew for certain that I would not like what happened after I had left the safety of the coven and the village.

I figure that yes, her words very much could have swayed me, but I’d already made up my mind. I knew that I wanted to be out there in the world, I wanted to know what everything was like outside.

Do I regret leaving the village and the women who taught me all I’d known up until that point? At first, I did. It was hard in the world, people felt incredibly unfair in their actions as far as I was concerned and yes, I wanted to go back home but I didn’t. It took plenty of time, but I eventually adapted and, well, here I am now. Alive, well, living my life to the fullest I might ever have managed to live it.

Had I not left, I never would have met James. We never would have had the wonderful children we’ve had. I wouldn’t be here, now, with a yard so big and so full of life that I have enough to keep occupied with every day. Do I think of my mother and the other women I grew up with? Every now and again, I do spare them a thought, but it is a passing thought. Yes, I am thankful to them for the knowledge they have passed down to me. On that same note, I am thankful to have left, as I discovered more of the world. I discovered a world that, while not quite fair in how it treated its women in a lot of places, other places knew equality in ways that made sense. I discovered a world that had more to share than what I would have been able to learn, had I stayed back.

This world is mine. I give it my all when I get up in the morning, I thank it for being there for me when I go to bed at night and, well, I am doubly so thankful for James and his presence and, well, there just are things that aren’t for show and tell, so I will keep them to myself but I am more than willing to show him my gratitude and absolute love and devotion every single day. Without him in my life, I would not be the same woman that I am now.

Oh, good, you’re home. Now I can curl up and scream while you give me awkward shoulder pats.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Characters: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 47
Current residence: New York City Ruins, New York
Final Word Count: 765 words
 

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Rare were the days after Lauren’s return to my side that we didn’t sit down together at dinner, and we simply talked. There just was so much catching up to do. So many years lost and so long for us to go back over to see if there was anything else we might have missed in our talking about the lives we’ve lived while apart. Even back then, as she returned to me, she never truly spoke of what happened to her on that fateful day when she was three. I have to assume she might very well have blocked it out.

If I ever had the chance of finding the person who took her, though, I would have done very ugly things to them. I might not look like I have much of a mean bone in my body but to make up for being unable to protect my beautiful, gorgeous daughter from the monster that took her when she was three? I would have gone to the end of the world.

It wasn’t exactly easy at first. We’d been separated for years, though she didn’t seem to blame me. We might have hugged our hearts out upon our reunion, but it was a bit like walking on almost-eggshells for the first few months. I did all I could to make sure that she felt at home and gave her all the time she needed to settle in and let herself grow to trust me. I mean, in a way, I had failed her.

There were a few nights, after she’d first started working and not long after she’d found out she was pregnant with Dariel, that she would be sitting in the living room, half curled in on herself, looking miserable as could be. The moment I walked into that living room, there would be a sort of light coming to her eyes though it was snuffed almost as fast as it came. A look that screamed to me that I had to be at her side right that very moment and make her feel better but…

It was awkward at the beginning. The pregnancy wasn’t one that she’d planned and hadn’t come from a union she had any true desire for, but she was adamant about keeping the child. I just didn’t how that she wanted to be held during those evenings and I more often than not found myself somewhat awkwardly patting her shoulders and back while she cried her heart out and screamed in a pillow.

A few weeks further in, I think we both sort of came to wrap our minds around that as a mother-and-daughter pair, there was nothing I wouldn’t have done for her, and she could confide in me. Things did get easier then. I could hold her while she cried out her frustrations and, little by little, our lives settled again. They weren’t perfect, far from, but her need to vent her frustrations became less and less frequent.

I can’t say just how much I am in awe of how strong my beautiful Lauren is. I might have helped as much as I could, but she still was the one who was strong enough to keep the little ones, despite their origins. She was the one who loved them unconditionally because they deserved it and I gave them that same love. When Daniel entered the picture, I might have been a little wary, but he was and still is a wonderful addition to the family.

When James finally came back home, though… I can’t even put that particular moment into words. It was just perfect. I know I felt like I was dreaming when I first glanced at him. It had close to twenty years, we’d both changed and yet, he still was the man that I had fallen in love with and married within a single month of knowing him. The same man whose daughter took to him in a way I never expected.

With the snow, well I’m sure that it’s no surprise that I did all I could to make sure we all were safe and sound and that mostly turned out to be by mothering everyone to death and making sure I had enough blankets to go around along with all the hot food we could manage while we still could manage. It certainly was no easy time in our lives, but we pulled through and we did that together.

I love my family and I open my arms to any of them at any moment they might so need it.

The only prize I need is silence and sleep.

 
Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 90, physically about 28
Final Word Count: 723 words
 

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I’ve never been one to lounge in bed.

At times, the idea is certainly tempting and it is hard to ignore that temptation but there is so much that can be done when the sun is just beginning to climb its way up just beyond the horizon. I like preparing certain things just the night before so that when I get up, I can get those going and, at least once a week, that is the preparation of a loaf that I need to sit, covered, for at least twelve to eighteen hours, before it goes into the oven.

Then, in the warmer months, when the flowers are in full bloom or even earlier so when they’re still getting there, I tend to be in the garden, gathering the blooms I need for the day. It may seem like much, my gathering blooms almost every day—the keyword here is almost—but the back yard is very much so nearly all flowers that are set to bloom from very early spring to very late autumn.

Not all of the yard is garden and blooms, of course, I do share my living space with my wonderful husband and I wouldn’t want to keep him from the back yard. It is his space as much as it is mine.

It would be a lie to state, however, that I don’t seek the warmth and comfort of our shared bed in the winter. I feel as though that, after the full spring, summer, and fall, I deserve a bit of quiet and sleep and there is nothing better than settling beneath the covers with the so very quiet crackling of the fireplace in the room. That is all I need to rest.

That and well, James with me, of course.

Looking back, I suppose you could say that I am not one for sitting still. I know that Roslyn got her energy from me. In a way, it was inevitable and I might have not really realized how much energy I make use of in a single day. Gathering the flowers, setting them out, picking which to set aside to dry, which need to be kept fresh, gathering roots and other small things. I don’t think I ever would have learned to slow down if not for James and the children.

So you can imagine that there is potential cause for worry when I whine a little about needing to get out of bed and wanting nothing more than silence and more sleep.

The last time I did that, I was bed-bound, more or less though I could drag myself out of the bed for the bathroom, for about a week. It was a heavy week spent dealing with the flu and I was miserable.

I tried to make myself get up every morning so I could do the things I knew I needed to but it was just so difficult. I could barely take a few steps without the all-over body aches taking over and I was just miserable.

On a potentially positive note, it was during the winter so I had fewer flowers to gather and work with though I do have a small indoor garden. It hardly works the same as the garden in the yard but it still needs love and tending and James, my wonderful, perfect James; he took care of the garden while I was sick. It doesn’t need much, not in the winter, most of the system is automated but I am a worrywart when it comes to these things and he humoured me by taking care of the few things that were usually done manually.

I’m not sick often. The kids have never been sick often either. I’m not sure if it’s part of the make or if it’s something else. Though I say ‘make’ as though I am more than a simple human woman. Yes, I have craft gifts but they don’t make me anything other than human. Whether I use these gifts and practice my craft is up to me in the long run and I do practice. I feel as though I need to. It is as much part of my life as everything else is.

I will laze about when there is nothing more left for me to do with my life.

It’s all the same boring routine. If I don’t go out and do something new, I’ll waste away. I’m sure of it!

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Characters: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 46
Final Word Count: 718 words
 

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People seem to feel the need to complain about things even if there is nothing to truly complain about. Though maybe I’m just too old-fashioned. Maybe I’ve had to live most of my life with enough to keep me busy with that I didn’t have any true routine and I didn’t find myself weeping in would-be boredom.

Though my childhood is possibly why; I was homeschooled from the get-go and my parents weren’t big on letting me out of the house for long periods of time. The one time my parents allowed me to spend time out with a friend from the neighbourhood, I met James and, well, a month later I was married. I have no regrets, none. He got swept away right after the honeymoon, though. For nearly twenty years, he was out of my life. Stupid army and its super-secret projects.

Our honeymoon wasn’t without its fruits, so to speak. I was giving birth to beautiful baby Lauren nine months later.

That kept me busy too and there never was a single day of routine while I was raising the little one, thankfully helped by a friend of the family because, let’s face it, my parents didn’t accept the idea that I was marrying a man four years older than I was when I was still just barely seventeen. At three, though, some criminal took Lauren away from me. Barely a moment of inattention. Barely. One moment I’m watching her ease down that slide and climb back up, the next, she’s just not coming down that slide. I was paying attention, she just… she disappeared.

I always kept hope that she was alive and well somewhere. Her disappearance changed my life but there still was no set routine. Sure, I got up, I went to work, came home, prayed to whatever deity would listen to me to bring my daughter and my husband home.

When she was thirteen, she’s the one who found me. I can’t even put it into words how much her return changed me again. I was just barely managing to make ends meet on my own, the money James was somehow sending me—the only way I truly knew he still was alive, even years down the road too—was put away for Lauren to use later on if she ever returned to me. Her coming back into my life made me change my ways again somewhat and the following few years were filled with ups and downs as we worked on catching up.

Then there were the boys, Daniel, James finally coming home. So maybe I can’t claim that I know what ‘boredom’ is like. I’ve never had that in my life, but I swear if I hear another teenager complain about being bored with the same routine again and again because of the way things are now, I’m going to have to shake some sense into them.

There is just so much to do and so many ways that we can change the daily routine that there’s just no way for anyone to be bored, it doesn’t make sense. I get it, working every day is boring, you’d rather just be out there playing or having fun but that’s not exactly how the world works anymore, it hasn’t been that way for quite some time.

Maybe I’m just too old to be teaching these kids anything. Most of them complain when their parents drop them off with us because they don’t want to learn and school is boring and just, it’s frustrating. I feel as though they just don’t care anymore and while I can understand that learning to write seems moot, I still feel as though it is a necessity for these teens to know that much. They can count, but reading and writing? Most of their parents seemed to not care much if they learned to and I don’t understand it.

It isn’t because the world crawled to a frosted and freezing end that basic things like these need to be left behind. Don’t take for granted that your elders know how to read and write. If you don’t want to learn, you’ll never be on their level and, one day, that knowledge might just get lost. I’m not looking forward to that.

You did your best.

 
Timeline/World: New York City – Surviving Earth
Characters: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 45
Final Word Count: 653 words
 

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There were plenty of times that I felt as though I had failed as a mother. To see my daughter raped not once, but twice and bring to the world two beautiful boys as a result of that made me feel as though somehow, I hadn’t done enough. As though I hadn’t given it my all, though I know it’s not the case.

I was terrified, at first, when I realized that I would have to raise her as a single mother. I thought I would fail at the most basics of things and since I didn’t have anyone else to turn to, for the longest of times, I almost kept myself from living my life at all. My whole world, my focus, my everything; it was on Lauren. I wanted to make sure she was a happy child; that she had good things; that she wouldn’t ever want for anything in the world and, for a little while, I think I had that much going on.

I never actually lost hope that he would come back to me. I didn’t know where he was or if he even still was alive but I believed that one day, at some point, we would be reunited.

Watching and helping Lauren raise her own children was a new experience. It was just so different from raising her. I already had that experience under my belt and I could help her to the best of my ability but I didn’t tell her what to do. I didn’t try to change the rules of the game. They were her boys; it was her word that was law. I was only there to offer her the love of a mother who would never have pushed her away and the presence of a grandmother for these boys.

It’s odd, I suppose, that I saw so much of James in them. Just as odd, is that they look quite a bit like Daniel but he has no blood relation to these boys and yet, it’s in the curve of their nose, in the shape of their eyes. It’s strange but fascinating and I think that it adds to the fact that he took to them so quickly and they took to him just as quickly.

My family is complete. It doesn’t matter that the world has come to an end through the snow and has changed itself every which way. I have my husband with me. We have our daughter and our grandchildren. Lauren has Daniel at her side and she’s truly happiest when they’re together. The boys are growing up so well, so quickly! They’ve taken to the jungle with surprising grace.

We cannot be perfect. We might wish to be but that is just one of those things that are, technically, impossible. There is nothing wrong with being imperfect. It adds to the charm of the people you surround yourself with. Someone who tries to be perfect probably needs to take a better look in the mirror. Though really, that’s just the way I see things.

So long as you give it your best, you’re on the right path. That’s what it’s all about. Don’t half-arse things, don’t shrug it all off and go ‘oh well’, when it’s so clear that you could have done so much more but you didn’t put in any effort. Just try. That’s all you can really do in this world. Try and try again. You’ll eventually realize that the world is a pretty wonderful place and that with some effort; you can achieve more than you probably imagined you ever could.

This world, it’s not unlike a sandbox. You will build things but there is no saying that they won’t crumble. You only have to try again, this time adding in what you learned from your last attempt and it will get better.

Do your best, you’ll appreciate every moment of it.

Celebrate them.

 
Timeline/World: Atheria – 1st Generation
Characters: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 89, physically about 28
Final Word Count: 648 words
 

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I’ve always thought that I’d gone through all I could while raising my children, it wasn’t an easy time in life and when the Dark Years happened, I thought I’d never see any of them ever again. Of course, I was lucky enough that Lauren never went very far but far enough for her to have to endure the horrors of rape twice. Those, by the same man nonetheless, bringing forth another generation for us to care about and love. It gave me something to focus on while my life seemed to be almost void of anything else I might have found myself wanting in my life.

The reason behind her pregnancies was a terrible one but I reminded her to celebrate the lives growing within her. They were beautiful ones and I just knew that she would be a good mother to them. There was nothing else to say on that subject, it was the truth as I saw it and I knew that she wouldn’t abort these lives, no matter the reasons for their presence within her.

I hadn’t expected to ever have another child after the first two. I loved these two and they had brought me joy and love so when I found out I was pregnant, I was a little… well, worried. Not that I expected to have any issues with the whole process but the idea of having another child, at my age—never mind the forever-young part—just felt foreign. We hadn’t actively been trying for that little bundle of joy to enter our lives and was she ever something.

She was a handful almost from the beginning. The pregnancy so happened to be a little more difficult than I expected it but I celebrated every day. This was a life I was going to bring into this world and I would love that life no matter what.

Now, the pregnancy was a difficult one and for reasons that the doctors could not explain, she wasn’t quite ready to come out when it was time to so her birth was one that came following a heavy dosage of a particular natural medicine because I didn’t want them to cut me open. Births are meant to be natural unless it is a matter of life and death and I knew just how to draw her out and into the sunlight.

Her childhood was one of ups and downs, more than with my oldest two. There was something in her that didn’t truly want to sit still and I almost feared for what she would eventually do with that energy. That came to a head in time and it worried all of us. Before all of that came to happen, however, there came that final pregnancy and this one worried me. I really wasn’t ready, not emotionally or physically, for another child but I still followed my instincts, I listened to my heart and I took things one day at the time. There was no point in trying to make a fuss about things.

After all, I wasn’t going to face this alone, just as I hadn’t faced my last pregnancy alone. With my wonderful husband at my side, this final celebration of life turned out to be a sweet gift. No complications, no pains, just the usual I would have expected during pregnancies and I was glad for it. Being bed-bound for almost three months out of nine was too much for me and I think I was ready to rip my hair out by the end.

My kids are all different but, in a way, they’re all the same. They were celebrations of love and life; I would have given everything and anything I had for them to be well, healthy and live good lives.

I like your hair.

Timeline/World: Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 87, physically about 28
Final Word Count: 519 words

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I have never really been the type of woman who liked to spend hours in the bathroom, making sure my hair was placed just so, my makeup just right. For one thing, the only makeup I’ve ever worn has been a touch of lip gloss and even so that was rare and my hair, well my hair is one of those things that usually get one option: I leave it loose. I’ve braided it every so often, tied it back loosely because I needed to but the vast majority of the time, my hair is worn loose and that’s that.

As per the small gift of natural magic that comes from my family, I’ve always worn at least one feather on my person, however. Around my throat, my wrist, in my hair, that is perhaps the one thing I’ve ever really added to my looks that might have made me spend time in front of the mirror because it was important but it never took long.

I remember, when Roslyn was still such a tiny little thing, she used to have this fascination with my hair. Would reach out and grasp for it—the feathers more than the hair as I’d taken to wearing a few in my hair—and then just get all bright-eyed and giggly. She was normally such a quiet child that these moments were a little extra boost of laughter around while she was growing up.

She took her role of big sister so very seriously when her Callias was born, it was adorable. I hadn’t expected that much from her. By that point, she’d already been spending a lot of time outside, learning about things I personally couldn’t teach her and discovering the world in a way only a ten-year-old child could. I wasn’t worried about the time she spent outside, I know the safety of this place and I already knew that by then.

When she was old enough for me to give her, her own feather, I wasn’t sure how she would take it. What little I had tried to teach her about my old ways weren’t interesting to her so she surprised me when she clipped the feather in her hair, embraced me and told me she would cherish this gift like no other.

Of course, I should have kept a closer eye on her but she’d never really caused much trouble before, so when the accident happened, I felt a little broken inside. I blamed myself for not teaching her the protective laws better and to this day, I still feel a small pinch in my chest when I think back on that day, when I think back on the source of that one little white streak in her hair. I feel like I’m to blame, like I didn’t do my job well as a mother and a teacher and while this pain has lessened in the years since it happened, I haven’t let it leave me, I can’t. It is a reminder that I need to be so very careful with my gift, ‘small’ as it might seem to others.

Why do you care? You don’t even know me.

Timeline/World: New York City – Surviving Earth
Characters: Moyra Saelen
Race: Human
Age: 43
Final Word Count: 537 words

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How I wish that people would stop with all of this animosity. We have survived the world and while I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and sing Kumbaya my lord because that’s honestly going a little too far out there and it’s not the kind of thing I would do, as is, but all I’m wanting is that people stop fearing other people. It seems like it really is too much to ask for though.

I do understand it’s hard to trust strangers, even now that all we have left is one another. This is the point where I have problems understanding how people might still wish to try and survive on their own instead of asking for the help of others. I’m a mother and a grandmother, I love children, I open my arms to those in need and those who might not see that they are in need but are nonetheless. I am the kind of woman who will offer the jacket off my back to offer it to someone else who might need it more, even if it may very well give me the chills, in the long run.

So when I saw this young woman, she was new to our little safety zone, just come stumbling our way, I did what I’ve always done. I went to her, offered her some help, offered to walk her to our community area where I was sure we’d have some soup going for her to have and somewhere to settle down to rest for a bit until she either went back on her way or decided to settle in. She looked at me as though I were a monster, threatening to rip her arm off and feed it to some beasts lurking underground. Mind you, I hadn’t even touched her; this is my one main rule. Don’t touch someone unless they say it’s okay.

The look this woman gave me, though. It broke something in me, it really did. I can understand, now, that perhaps she’d come from a settlement that hadn’t been healthy as far as its relationships between people were concerned, but it still didn’t make any sense. We’ve been out here for a few years now, will people simply not adapt to the fact that this now we now have is one where we have to help one another and not just use one another, abuse one another?

I stepped back, I let her go. It broke my heart a little more to do this but I could tell this was going to be one of these situations. There was no helping her, she would have lashed out and flailed if I’d said anymore. So I backed away, I let her have all the room she wanted and I went back to watching the not so little ones—they’re growing so fast—play. What else was I supposed to do? We don’t force anyone to stop and stay for a while, it’s against our policies. We’re just trying to be a helpful group, we’re doing what we can but I know that not everyone will want to accept that offered hand, that offered roof and food. I wish things were different.