my appointment with The Doctor. [trigger #63]

I had just rounded the corner off of Market onto Leary, when there was suddenly this loud wailing sound. It’s hard to describe, it was like a broken siren; or maybe an elephant who had smoked its whole life, trumpeting as a giant swung it around its head in a circle. I turned and went back around the corner to see what the sound was, only to find a tall blue box where a moment before there had been nothing. It most certainly hadn’t been there moments before, but there it was, and as the sound died down, the big blue box was definitely the source.

The box was some sort of phone box, and there was a sign on the door, but before I could read the sign the door opened and a man stepped out. He looked around him, checking his surroundings as if I wasn’t standing there.

He had a weird object in his hand, shaped like a large pen. At the end was a green light, and the man would point it at various objects, at which point the giant pen thing would make a high-pitched whirring sound.

None of what this man was doing seemed even remotely familiar. He had a lanky, nervous sort of energy, always moving and adjusting his arms. He was wearing a tweed jacket and a bowtie, which in Seattle was the least of his oddities. His hair was thick and long, and all of it seemed to be attempting to join a wave from the left side of his head to the right. In part, it looked like he normally wore an 80’s Flock of Seagulls hairstyle, but had forgotten his hairspray.

All of it was bizarre, but also a little fantastic. “Uh, hello?” I wasn’t sure exactly how to approach the situation, but I did know I couldn’t just turn and leave.

Finally, he noticed me. “Scott. Scoooott. There you are, my friend. Oh, right, you don’t know me yet do you? Not to worry, I’ll have you up to speed in no time. However, I’m going to have to ask you to trust me for a moment and step into the blue box behind me.” He had more than a little swagger as he spoke, like he had an amazing secret the rest of the universe didn’t have, as if he were 1000 years old, but also still an excited little boy.

“I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Yes. No. Well, yes and no. Yes for me, no for you. It’s a time travel thing.”

“Time travel?”

“Yes, and we’ve got a bit of a time problem at the moment, so I’m going to need you to come with me.”

“A time problem? I’m not sure I understand. Or, I know I don’t understand.”

“You know those lava-lamps? All the colors and bubbles settle and separate, until you heat it up and it all starts mixing together and moving about.”

“Time is like that?”

“Well, no, but if it helps…”

“I’m sorry, you want me to get in that box with you?”

“Don’t worry, it’s bigger on the inside. Shall we go?”

“I, uh, I don’t know about that.”

“Scott, c’moooonnn! You can do this. You stood up to the Palafraxian Governer of New Antwerp. You bested the Wizard of Granwar. You and your wife almost single handedly took down the second coming of the Rascus Androxious. You can do this. Oh, and by the way, that sexy blue box is a time machine and a space ship, just so you’re prepared.”

“In that case, can we stop and pick up my wife and my dogs on our way to… wherever and whenever it is we’re going?”

“Yes, dogs. I like travelling with dogs. Dogs are cool.”

why do we consistently become less than we want to be? [trigger #50]

As Ed woke up, it quickly dawned on him that today was the day he was free to go. After long years in bondage, today he would finally walk free. He sat up, washed himself up and dressed.

A guard came to his cell door, opened it, and walked inside with breakfast. The guard placed breakfast on the small table to the left of the bed, then briefly and affectionately squeezed Ed’s shoulder before leaving.

Ed picked at this breakfast, and then sat at the edge of his bed and stared at the open cell door for some time. He didn’t know where to begin, how to put one foot in front of the other to leave. Eventually, the same guard came in and left Ed lunch. Ed ate lunch before again sitting on his bed and staring at the cell door. The door to his cell actually led directly outside. He could see the sunshine and clouds outside his door, but instead of making him feel comfort it terrified him. The large world outside was intimidating after the small confinement of his cell.

A different guard brought dinner, again without a word being said.

Ed ate his dinner, and afterward decided to lie down for a bit. After a few hours, a guard came and closed the door to his cell. Soon, it was totally dark.

As Ed drifted off to sleep, his last thought was that tomorrow would finally be the day he was free to go.

what it means to be home. [trigger #36]

**continuation of trigger #1**

Thomas woke again, as the heat of the day continued to rise, and finally he realized it was too warm to consider trying to fall back to sleep. This would be the 12th day in a row that he and his new traveling companions would need to lay low. This time of year, it was far too hot during the day to consider traveling , and at night the raiders had been far too active to risk their attention by moving around. So, Thomas had been using this reality as an excuse to catch up on some much needed sleep. Finally it was time to get moving, even if moving extended only outside his tent to sit in the hot sun until dark.

He slipped from his tent and looked around the camp. It was exactly as it had been each of the other 11 days they’d been waiting for the chance to move.

Peter sat at the far edge of the camp, sharpening blades and watching for movement in the distance while taking great care to appear as if he weren’t watching. Thomas went and sat beside the large man. Conversation was impossible, as Peter had lost his tongue to raiders long ago, but there was still an ever building rapport between the two, and Thomas enjoyed his company. Peter handed Thomas a canteen of water and Thomas took a long, deep pull from it. He was terribly thirsty, and the water was fantastic. He handed back the canteen and Peter handed over another canteen, this one filled with whiskey. Thomas took an equally long pull, and it was equally as good.

Thomas felt a hand on his shoulder, and without turning he knew Carlos was behind him. The hand patted his back and Carlos slid down beside him in the sand.

It was so strange. Thomas had lived within the walls of Sanctuary his entire life, he’d known nothing else, but he’d felt like an alien there ever since Carlos had died, or at least since he thought Carlos had died. Now, out here in the constant danger of the wastes, with the chance a raiding party comes over the hill at any moment, in the brutal heat of the day and the frigid cold of the nights, he felt at ease, like he was home.

Thomas sat in silence with Carlos and Peter, one of whom wasn’t even capable of talking, the other a man with whom conversation had been difficult because of all the secrets Carlos still hadn’t been willing to reveal. Yet, even in this profound silence Thomas felt belonging he never felt back in Sanctuary. Part of it might be that at least with Carlos the secrets were front and center. Neither denied that there was a great deal to Carlos’ story that Thomas was ignorant of. Whereas, back at Sanctuary, there were secrets that Thomas had always felt dancing on the edges of his consciousness, as if all was not as it seemed. He wasn’t aware how true this was, and how deeply it had troubled him, until he had been able to rest with these motley travelers with whom he now threw in his lot.

how war began in my high school. [trigger #27]

Todd just sat there, shocked. He’d really said it. None of us could believe it.

I mean, everyone sort of knew how the other side felt, but we never said it out loud. We just went our separate ways, pretending there was no rift between us, carefully ignoring each other.

But, now Todd had shattered that illusion. We were all sitting in the cafeteria, eating and talking and laughing. That’s when Mark mentioned something about Justin Bieber, I think he was referring to the poster over Donald Glover’s bed on the IAmDonald tour bus.

Suddenly, as if it were an inspired, involuntary utterance, Todd shouted, “Oh, c’mon, Justin Bieber sucks!”

The cafeteria went immediately silent. It was as if someone had pressed a magic pause button. How had everyone heard what he said in that loud cafeteria? I still wonder, and I still shudder to think of what happened next.

The silence continued for a good 45 seconds, everyone dumbfounded, as if not a single soul could believe what had just happened.

Then, there was this terrible, primeval, guttural scream from someone on the edge of the cafeteria. It sounded almost inhuman, or prehuman. It sounded as if it were coming from the inside of someone’s soul as opposed to their throat. It was savage and filled with rage. I turned to where the sound had come from, it was Lauren Postman: a small, quiet freshman. I think that before this I’d heard her speak once, it had been a tiny, mousey sound. I had certainly been nothing like this rebel yell I was hearing now.

Suddenly, Jenny Fitzsimmons jumped onto her cafeteria table and joined in with Lauren’s scream, which was still echoing off of the cafeteria walls. She lept off of her table, across to the next until she was close enough to jump onto Todd’s back, biting his arm with a ferocity that drew blood.

Then, the true chaos irrupted.

Nearly every girl in the room under the age of 16, along with several over, quickly exploded into guerilla warfare. It was as if the entire female class had been trained by Navy Seals.

Tina Lawrence was dispatching boys from my class with a pen like she was Rambo. Amy Johnson had just taken out a circle of boys surrounding her like a tiny, brown skinned Bruce Lee. One boy tried to run for the door, I think it was Paulie Simmons, but Sarah Weiner fast-pitched a Snapple can into the back of his head from a good 15 yards away and left him sprawled on the floor like a rag doll.

By this time, I was under a table, rocking back and forth, praying for salvation while whispering, “This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening.”