Tag: short story

Maybe In Another Life

I recently saw a writing prompt which was, “Write a story that includes the phrase “Maybe in another life.””. Here’s what I wrote! I hope you enjoy!

A pink umbrella. It was unusual, to say the least. But Elion couldn’t help but follow it, silently tracing its pattern through the rain, watching as it bobbed and weaved its way over to the small alley where Elion was working. She held her breath, hand pausing over the canvas which was just beginning to be drawn on.
“It’s raining.” The owner of the umbrella’s voice was playful, though its melodious lilt wasn’t lost on Elion.
“Yeah. I’m not an idiot.” Elion was sharp in her retaliation, though she couldn’t help but feel strangely…captivated by this stranger- with her pink hair that matched her umbrella and by her hat with its small, but bright pawprint.
The stranger laughed brightly, “Didn’t think you were. Do you not have an umbrella?”
There wasn’t much Elion could say in response. She shook her head, turning back to the painting, studying in it the faint glow of the streetlamps. “No. I like the rain”.
The stranger cocked her head, though her voice was as bright as ever, “You’ll ruin your outfit. And your painting,” She held out the umbrella, an almost dare in her eyes, the water droplets catching the light- and Elion’s eyes- as they fell off the umbrella, “Here. Take it”
Elion furrowed her brow, “…What about you? You’ll be the one ruining your outfit, then.”
The stranger just winked at Elion, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”
And with that she was gone. Had turned and walked away, ignoring Elion’s protests of “Wait! I don’t…”
Elion trailed off in frustration, her hand wrapped tightly around the umbrella. She studied it, a small smile on her face. It was pretty. And…and quite thoughtful.
Her thoughts turned back to the pink-haired stranger. How confident she was. How playful. Picking up her canvas, she tucked it back into her bag, thinking to herself as she got up. Maybe…maybe in another life, things would’ve been different. Maybe they could’ve gotten to know each other more. Maybe the only remnant Elion had of her wouldn’t have been the umbrella.
Maybe.

The Summoning

I wrote this short story based on the prompt “Start your story with people arriving at a special ceremony”. I hope you enjoy!

Suspicious glances were thrown around the circle as everyone lined up in order. For a good reason, really. If anyone had caught word that they were here, that the ten people currently holding hands, cloak hoods drawn securely over their faces were traitors to the king, traitors to the country they stood for, well, there was no doubt. They’d surely be dead in a matter of seconds. No matter that the queen had called them there or that each of them were high advisors of the court. No, no matter their status, their heads would be adorning the wall the next day. A warning more than anything, proof that their king was all-mighty and to be respected.
In unison, the ten gathered around the fire, dropping each other’s hands and pulling out their letters. The queen had hand-written each one on the palace’s finest stationery, the cursive loops elegant, fitting of a queen. A quick glance wouldn’t procure anything out of place, no, everything would seem just as it should be. But reading the letter, even holding it, would be the worst form of treachery- conspiring against the king.
The letter was short, to the point: “Meet tomorrow. 11 pm. Summon whatever you must. Rid this city of my husband.” With practiced ease, as ten hands flung the letter into the fire, watching as the flames greedily gobbled up the parchment, the only remnant, ashes.
A figure stepped forward, the unofficial leader of the night. It was understood, without saying a word, that this was the spellcaster. The one who would be doing the summoning. They withdrew a handful of salt, tossing into the fire, chanting the words written oh-so-carefully on the back of the parchment. They were memorized to a T, their ancient words slipping off their tongue in practiced fashion.
Soon enough, a figure began to rise from the center, its body seemingly forming from nothing, the mist coalescing into a ragged shape of a figure. Its voice roared around the open field, more than one person clasping their hands over their ears.
“Who dares summon me to your pitiful excuse of a realm?” Looking around to see cowering figures, the brute smiled- a terrifying, ghastly smile, but a smile all the time, “Ah. I see. What a bunch of cowards.”
With a sweep of its arm, the pasture was set ablaze, the screams of the cloaked figures just white noise to its ears. It didn’t take long for the fire to spread, to burn throughout the town, to run up the buildings. A proclamation of chaos, a foreshadowing of death.
That was the last sight to many- a city on fire, the smoke choking the sky, the fumes thick and stifling. Within a few hours, it was all gone. The city was burnt to ashes. The ritual hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but, well, it had worked. The king was dead. Long live the queen.

My Superhero Story

Recently, for English class, we had to write a short story were we starred as the superhero.

As Phantom ran through the streets, dodging angry pedestrians and the occasional scooter, she couldn’t help but wish that her power let her teleport short distances. “I mean, what use even is teleportation if it only works to faraway places?” As she finally arrived at Minute Maid, she huffed, running a hand over her face. Looking up, she found herselves face to face with Typhon, the behemoth that had the nerve to be terrorizing Houston for weeks now. Normally, the problem would’ve been handed off to a larger superhero, someone way above Phantom’s pay grade- not that Phantom was getting paid- but all the local superheroes were “off on vacation”, a likely excuse. So the case had been assigned to Phantom. Lovely. 

Typhon was…an interesting problem, for sure. Phantom had read her fair share of Greek mythology, devoured it in fact, and the so-called “father of all monsters” would be no small feat to defeat. Last time he had resurfaced, it had taken Zeus burying him underneath a mountain to keep him gone. As Phantom ran her eyes over his figure, she tensed, preparing herself for the onslaught of battle. She wasn’t one of the fighters, normally, that was handled more by the likes of Sylph and Undine, two higher-ranking superheroes, but she could handle a low-grade monster. Typhon…wasn’t low-grade. In the slightest. As she got into position for the upcoming fight, the advice her trainer had given her ran through her head and she took a breath, getting in stance to run and jump onto Typhon’s body, hopefully giving her a better chance to- wait, no way that was a rock, it was too... She shook her head, wrenching her gaze away from the rock, forcing herself to focus. Distractions were…unfortunately common on the job, especially shiny things…like that rock. She took a sharp breath, gazing back up at the beast in front of her. Well, better to get it over with, right? 

That was the last fully formed thought she had before the fight began. 

She woke up in an unfortunately familiar bed, groaning as the room came into focus. The agency that had recruited her, ACE, had rooms for each of its members, not that there were many. Phantom’s room was decorated sparsely, a few of her favorite books on the table and a poster or two of her favorite artists adorning the walls. She forced herselves to get up, wincing as her weight rested on her sore legs. Not only had she just fought Typhon, she had been to dance class just the day before. And now she was paying the price. “Not that I knew that I would be fighting this guy today,” her inner monologue reminded her.

She made her way downstairs, fidgeting with the pendant around her neck as she did. The powers that she had, well, really, she could’ve been anybody’s. She had been walking home from school one day, when something shiny caught her attention. She had kneeled down to pick up the object, a medallion, delicately engraved with a star. And…nothing had changed. She had tucked the medal into her pocket and thought nothing more of it. Things had taken a turn when, later that night, she had wished to go somewhere else, anywhere else. Being deposited in the harsh, stinging winds of the Sahara wasn’t exactly what she meant, but the medallion opened up a whole world of possibilities. 

Before long, the word of her power had reached ACE, and she had reached out, offering a job and a promise of a “back-to-normal” life. Phantom had been hesitant to accept at first, but now, a year later, it was the last thing she regretted. She had been able to go back to school as Iniya- living a normal life with normal friends and normal classes. Most of the time, she was free to be herselves- going to dance classes, reading a lot, everything she had done normally. However, ever so often, her pendant- that medal she had picked up that fateful day- would begin to glow, softly at first, then more intensely, until she went and battled the villain that had chosen to terrorize the city that day. 

The power to teleport was fun, sure, but…as just a high schooler, there wasn’t a lot to do with it. One day, far in the future, she wanted to be known. Known for doing good. Known for being a strong force in the world who people looked up to. Her dream of all dreams, not that she would tell anyone, was to rescue people around the world, freeing her from situations of peril and conflict. She could only hope that ACE would sponsor that dream of hers. 

Even with that dream, Iniya hoped to settle down for life later, not as Phantom, but as herself. Get a good, steady job, have a nice house, a few cats, the works. She didn’t hate being a superhero, far from it, but she didn’t want that to be her entire life. She wanted a life dictated by her, not by a medallion picked up on the street or an agency that happened to realize her power. But that was in the future. For now, all she wanted was to survive in high school, no, more than survive, thrive. 

Iniya left the agency with a backwards glance and a smile to Rose, her favorite concierge. As she headed home, she permitted herself a glance at the window of her favorite bookshop, admiring its neat and colorful displays. She had been hoping to buy herself a copy of ‘If We Were Villains’, one of the best books she had read in a while, but it had been sold out for a while. Reading was one of the things Iniya genuinely enjoyed and nothing could pull her away from a good book.  Ever since she was young, her parents had encouraged her love of reading…which had potentially backfired as Iniya now needed a book in hand to even think about going to any social event. 

Breaking away from her thoughts, Iniya focused on the tasks ahead of her. She would need to get home, recharge, work on homework, then get ready for the next round of fighting, after all, there was no way that Typhon would have been killed from just one volley of attacks. She headed home, already formulating a plan for her next attack. Phantom’s fighting style wasn’t anything incredibly unique, other than added acrobatics, usually just to show off. She had been hoping to add archery into her fighting style for ages now, though ACE had been picky about sponsoring her classes. Rolling her shoulders back, she let herself into the house, disappearing into her room to start studying for her math test. “Really,” she thought, “Math teachers should be more forgiving towards students who are quite literally superheroes.” 

A few hours later, Iniya was ready to go, this time as Phantom- (hopefully) killer of Typhon. Typhon had retreated slightly, moving over to the Botanic Gardens and as Phantom ran through the foliage, she couldn’t help but wonder at the flora. “Maybe I should come here sometime…”. She ran up to Typhon, standing there, with the sun at her back, flanked by both Sylph and Undine, offering nods to her both, though her inner voice was screaming at her just casually standing next to the two greatest superheroes the city had. But now wasn’t the time. 

So with the sunset fast approaching, the three stood together, one final force against the father of all monsters, one stand against death. It was time.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

The Garden of Envy

Recently, I wrote a short story inspired by the song “Envy Baby” by Kanaria. I hope you enjoy!

The circus tent was dark, faint lights glowing to illuminate the seats and nothing more. Cebu took his seat apprehensively. When he’d first gotten an invitation to the mysterious, elusive ‘Garden of Envy’ circus, he’d been more than excited. Now, taking a look around the unlit tent, unease crept in. He wasn’t sure how many people had been invited and the pitch black of the tent didn’t help.

Not even a minute of the stifling silence had passed when a quiet snap sounded. Immediately, without any warning, bright industrial lights lit up the ring, each blasting a ray of clean, white light around the room. Cebu took in a sharp breath, gazing in wonder around the tent. True to its name, the tent was decorated a dark green, a large tree standing guard in the middle of the ring. Looking around, Cebu noticed just how isolated he was. No one else was around, no one to watch the magic of the night.

The ringleader strode into the ring, an air of confidence, of mystery, of wonder surrounding him. And with that, the circus began. Everything was sharp, precise, polished to perfection. Everything was just how it was supposed to be.
It was gorgeous. The most exquisite performance Cebu had ever seen.

“And now!” the ringmaster’s voice boomed, “Please welcome Love Maniac, your tightrope walker for this evening!” With an air of elegance, the tightrope was mounted, the thin string wavering alarmingly in the air. Cebu held his breath, a faint sense of concern beginning to build up. He couldn’t pinpoint its source, couldn’t figure out exactly why, but it was there.

And it only increased. As Love Maniac made her way across the tightrope, the disquiet grew, leaving Cebu with the intense temptation to shout out and warn the tightrope walker of the impending danger. But he couldn’t interrupt the show. Not with how perfect the night was.

Love Maniac reached the middle of the tightrope. Cebu held his breath.
The rope quivered. Once, twice, a third time.
The tightrope snapped. Love Maniac plummeted. The lights all shattered.

The circus was officially over.

Writing a short story based on a song was really interesting! It was a fun prompt to go off of.

In The Flower Field

I wrote a short story based on the prompt ‘Write a story that contains the line, “I wish we could stay this way forever.”‘. I hope you enjoy!

The sunset cast golden rays over the landscape as Asher sat down with a sigh. It was close to darkening, hints of pink and a deeper red beginning to shine through. The field he sat in was empty, as it had been for yesterday and the day before. And the day before. And for forever before that. No one else would ever be there to bother them. As the sun continued to set, Asher sat down cross-legged, picking flowers here and there, weaving them into a flower-crown.

Every night, just when the sun went down, Asher would meet Vienna, just less than an hour a day. The two were fated for forever, destined to always see each other, day after day. But never for long. Never for longer than 60 minutes. 2 lovers bound by forever, but not without a catch. 2 lovers bound by luck ran dry.


Asher had grown used to making flower crowns, his hands deftly going through the motions as his thoughts wandered. He hadn’t expected to feel regret at first- the arrangement, though less than ideal, allowed for forever meetings with his beloved. But as time wore on and the seasons changed, Asher felt just a sliver of resentment. For being stuck in this position for eons. For being so tied to someone. For being just a victim of the fates.

Asher turned at the sound of padded footsteps. Right on time, as always. A lonely figure, a loved figure turned to look at him, whispered sweet nothings falling from her lips. Right on cue. Asher placed the brand new crown on her head gently. Right on the dot. Knowing that no matter what happened, no matter what Vienna felt about him, the crown would end up in the trash, the flowers wilting, rotting, then eventually decaying. Just as they all would. Just as time would make its way and claim all of them. But not their love, written in the stars to be forever.

What was forever, anyways? In a couple of hundred years, who would remember who they were other than the grass that they lay on, the flowers that they picked? In time, they would fade away. No more obligation to love, no more duties to pursue, just rest. Cold, numb, rest. Asher and Vienna were lovers, that was true, but perhaps a life without love would be nice. Perhaps a life without Vienna would be nice.

The idea fermented, persisted, even through the words gently uttered by a devoted lover. Asher’s breath hitched as he reached for the knife he had by his side. It wasn’t wise, it wasn’t advisable, but it was something of his. And that’s all Asher wanted. To have something not controlled by an arbitrary definition of fate. To have something that he could call his own, his own choice, his own decision.

The deed was done.
A life was taken in the very field where two lovers met.
A new ghost joined the crowd of spirits.
As the ghost drifted forward slowly, joining the side of Asher, the stars began to shine in the night sky.

“I wish we could stay this way forever”.

Letters: A Short Story

Recently, I saw a prompt to write a story told in letters. I hope you enjoy it!

Dear,

I know I shouldn’t be writing to you anymore. You made that awfully clear with your last letter. But. All the same, darling, I need you. I need to feel the way that I did on that late summer night in your garden, the stars bright above us, determining our fates and tying us together forever and ever. I need to feel the spark inside of me when you look at me and grin like you used to when we were kids and best friends and oh, so madly in love. I need you, love. And if you deny me that, so be it. I will foster your story, our story and it will be marvelous. I will keep every letter you have written to me, every memory of your joyous, wondrous laugh, every glint of your eyes as you hid a laugh behind your hand, every time your hand grabbed mine. I will treasure the life you have breathed into me forever and I hope you treasure that knowledge. 

With all of my love.



My darling,

It pains my heart to receive no response from you. It is what you told me would happen, I understand, however, I yearn for your sweet paragraphs of your daily amusements. I long to pick flowers from the fields behind your house, then braid them into your hair as you hum the songs you’ve just learned. I ache for how your words sound whispered into my ear as you promise to hold me endlessly. Darling, do you not hear me as I call your name, long and loud, short and sweet? Will you not poke your head out of the window and laugh at me, just once, so I can feel accomplished? Do you deprive me of this too?
I went to the river yesterday, the one where we skipped stones and drank cherry wine, and I thought about you. I wondered what you would think of me, standing at the same spot that you had, climbing the same trees you had, living the same life you had. 

Until the ends of time.


Sweet,

I came by your house the other day. I know, I know, awfully reckless of me, but. Your mother was sick and I had picked up some groceries and if the flowers in my hand were for you- well, no one needed to know that. I knocked on the door, and hearing no answer, let myself in. Your house was empty, the faint, almost eerie, ticking of the grandfather clock. The floorboards had collected a layer of dust, the living room rug rolled up and placed to the side. Sweetheart, I cannot tell you when my stomach began to sink, when the truth set in. It was all I could do to not run to your room, to paw through the drawers, the cabinets, searching for the slightest trace of you. But I gathered myself, and with the slightest tremble in my hand, pushed open your door. And I found it. I found your letter, love. I know it now. You’re gone, off on a grand adventure, and I’m still here, writing letters to your ghost. I understand, my love. I understand. And I love you. Always. 

Your loyal companion.


Beloved,

It has been a year. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you, without the silent, ever present wish that you were by my side, reading my book over my shoulder. Not a day. Darling, I miss you, that much should be obvious. However, I shall heal. I shall move on, and if your ghost permits it, I shall find someone new. Darling, let me bury this letter by the old willow tree and let it grow with the tree that has watched over us as we lived, loved, and learned. Let me climb the tree and let its branches cover me as I lean my head against its trunk. Let me adore you without needing you, hold on to you without suffocating myself. Darling, let me love you in the only way I know how. 

Forever yours.

The Shadow: Poetry Prompt

Hi! I wrote this short story from the prompt, “You wake up trapped in a strange castle with no memory of how you got there and there’s something lurking in the shadows as you explore the halls.”. I hope you enjoy!

There was a faint, dull throbbing in Emery’s head as she looked up to see stone, more stone than she’d ever seen in her life, elaborate windows, and a gorgeous, gorgeous view of rolling hills and green pastures. She sat up, pressing a hand to her forehead, adjusting the tiara (tiara?) that sat on her head, walking over to the window. The glass was cool to touch, foggy with condensation, and she resisted the urge to draw on it, to sit there and doodle and forget her senses and why she was there and really where she was.
She took a deep breath, walking over to the door, and pulling it open with a sense of finality. The hallway was deserted, completely silent. Emery’s gaze darted to the side, seeing a faint wisp of something, something dark, menacing, hiding in the corner, a shadow, really. It called to Emery, telling her to touch it, to let its cool, refreshing solitude wash over her. 
Emery blinked and the moment was gone, the voice of the shadow just a figment of her imagination. Maybe the whole castle is too. Maybe I’ll wake up in just 5 minutes and I’ll never see this place. Wouldn’t that be nice. She continued walking down the hallway, pausing as a stairway appeared in front of her, so sudden it was like it was enchanted. She risked a glance behind her, watching the shadows in the corner shrink and grow, pulsing towards her. She pushed down her growing sense of dread and continued up the staircase, counting the steps as she did, pushing open a small door at the top of the stairs to open up into a small room. One of the castle’s turrets, she would assume, a square one. 
The shadow was back.
It sat at the top of the stairs, as if waiting for Emery to turn around and notice it. Emery closed her eyes. On top of everything, this…creature (?) just had to be following her. As she turned around to examine the room, its voice spoke in her head once more, loud, bold, unafraid. I know you want to go home…Emery. Or Emmie. That’s what they call you isn’t it? And you hate it, but I bet you’d be ok with being called Emmie if it got you out of here. If it got you away from me.
Emery closed the book she was studying with a thud, letting the cover slam down on its antique, ink-ridden pages. She shook her head. She was imagining things, because shadows couldn’t talk, let alone talk in people’s heads, and this place must be making her dream. It must all be a dream and she would wake up and be normal and go to school and live her normal life and-
You know, it’s sweet how you have all these hopes and dreams. Most people that end up here don’t. And so, they end up being these unsatisfying hosts, but you. You’re different. Aren’t you, Emmie?
The shadow was almost on top of her. And then it was in her and then it was her and her thoughts and the shadow’s thoughts were just one and the same and there was no distinguishing, no real difference between the two.
The shadow wanted a host, after all. And it had gotten one.


Test Day- a Short Story

In English class, we had to write a short story with the prompt I was digging through all the junk in the attic when I found a button that…. I hope you like my story!

On October 8th, the day of my biggest test, I was trying not to panic. I was frantically digging through all the junk in the attic, searching for a button, occasionally pushing my tangled brown hair out of my face, my emerald eyes scanning the old, worn-down boxes relentlessly. An orange, pulsing glow filled the attic as I staggered backwards, throwing my tanned hands up over my eyes. As soon as the glow had faded, I wandered over to where it had come from, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Inside an old and faded purple silk bag was a bright orange button that whirred when I touched it.
“Yes! A button, at last!” I ran my blistered fingers over the plastic surface, deeming it perfect. I ran downstairs, slipping the button into my messenger bag as I did so.
“Late again, Ari?” Mom’s voice was sharp and disapproving. I almost showed her the button, but what was the point? She wouldn’t understand, she never did.
“Sorry Mom,” I looked down at the floor, hoping she wouldn’t drag it out.
“Let’s go,” her tone was brisk and unforgiving, her high heels clicking acroos the floor to the car.

She didn’t speak to me as we drove to school, letting me out of the car quickly. No one greeted me when I walked in, their eyes glued to the front of the classroom in anticipation. I took a deep breath, laying the button on my desk as I found myself adopting the same posture as my classmates.

Today was Test Day, the day that would determine your success or failure in the world. Out teacher, Ms. Zarrah, would call us up to perform out craft, granting us with either a pass or a fail. I worked with buttons, magicking them to my will. Glancing at everyone’s desks, I saw an array of objects, none of them as interesting as mine.

Suddenly, the small, nervous side chatter that had been collecting came to a halt as someone entered the room.
“Greetings, students,” Ms. Zarrah’s warm auburn eyes twinkled as she surveyed our class, “We’ll get started now,” Every second felt like an hour as my friends were all called up. Most people passed, blatantly showing their relief. I shifted at my desk impatiently, my hands itching to do something.

“Rancock, Arianna. Please come up with your object of choice,” I stood up, clutching the button tightly. I was slightly shaking and my heart was pounding, though I tried not to show it.
“Will you need anything?” Ms. Zarrah’s comforting voice put me at ease.
“Yes please, some fabric,” I asked politely. She beamed, handing a piece to me.
“Let me see your object now….” she gasped as she examined my button, then turned and announced to the class, “No magic items are to be used. Disqualified,”

Everyone let out gasps as I trudged to the back of the class, tears stinging my eyes. I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of class and it took all my willpower not to run away as soon as the bell rang. The only thing that stopped me was Ms. Zarrah.
“Ari, come back here please,” I gathered up my courage and walked back to her desk.
“Yes Ms. Zarrah?” I said sweetly, awaiting her lecture. She sighed.
“Your mother had predicted that something like this would happen, and so she asked me to give you a do-over,” I let out a small gasp, daring to hope, “There’s just one problem,” my shoulders slumped again and I looked away, “Your mother wanted you to do cooking,”

This “cooking vs. button” thing that my mom had created was the exact reason I couldn’t show her the button. She had always wanted me to have a craft in cooking, never seeming to understand what a dead skill it was.
“I can’t give you many hints, but think Ari. Why can’t you cook on a button?” My eyes widened as I understood what Ms. Zarrah was trying to say. She gently pressed an ordinary pale blue button into my hand and closed my fingers around it.

The next few hours were a blur as I baked my way through 3 desserts on the button which I had enchanted to do the work. Mom had taught me the recipes over the course of several exhausting days. Ms. Zarrah hummed with delight as she tasted my decadent brownies, perfectly balanced cupcakes, and my fresh and fruity apple cake.
“These are delicious! You passed with flying colors, Ari, great job,”

I beamed. I had found a way to make everyone happy in a style that was uniquely me. I had finally done a good job and done it well.

The Tsunami: A Short Story

I soared through the water, my flippers propelling me forward, and forward, and forward……………… Finally, arriving at the perfect momentum I spun around with the exact force coming to a stop right before Liz, my gymnastics coach. She laughed, then clapped for me, “You are doing so great Alexi!” she exclaimed, “You are definitely going to win the Gymturtle show!” I blushed with pride, well as much as a turtle can blush anyways. See, I’m Alexi, daughter of Oma and Letti, two great gymnastic stars who used to be wildly popular, but have been losing their talent ever so slowly. I have been wanting to find out why for years and the only way for me to do that was to participate in the show in which they started losing their powers. The thing is, the Gymturtle Extravaganza was one of the hardest shows to win and I needed to win it. So of course when I mentioned it to Mom and Mother, they hired me the best coach they could find, Liz! The only person who knew why I was actually doing the show was my best friend, Salem. She was a turtle just like me, but we had totally different personalities. Speaking of, here was Salem swimming towards me! As soon as I saw her, I smiled, but then seeing the look on her face, the smile dropped. “Hey Liz!” she said quickly before turning to face me. “Have you noticed the water drop?” she asked frantically. I frowned a bit, “No, I can’t say I have” As soon as I started paying attention to the sea, though, I could tell that it had changed. We all looked at each other, frightened. We decided to check our houses to find our parents and friends, then meet up in front of my house. As soon as I swam into my house though, I knew it was empty. Since I had time to spare, I decided to look around my neighborhood park to try to find some of my other friends. Everyone was missing! I had a bad feeling about what was about to happen……. Suddenly, a colossal wave hit me from the back and I felt so scared! As soon as I could, I went to find Liz and Salem. It wasn’t easy though, sand was scattered everywhere and coral was flung everywhere in sight. The only way to find them was through sound. I sighed. I was amazing at school, always getting A+ on my work. The only thing which I had trouble with was sound location. In my defense, it is really really hard. I shook myself. Why was I thinking about school, when I really should be thinking about Liz, Salem, and sound? Huh. Salem and sound. Salem was amazing at soundcation (sound location). I knew if I gave her a turtle call, she would trace her way back to me. Perfect. I knew I only had one chance to make it right, so I closed my eyes and concentrated hard. I let loose a sharp click cry then fell silent. I silently prayed hard for Salem to hear it and trace her way back to me. 5….4…..3…..2…..1…. “Hi!” I heard Salem call from behind me, Liz right next to her. “Great click call! Ms. Are would be proud!” I snorted a bit then hugged my bff. “Sooo,” Liz ventured. We separated quickly. “Did you find anyone?” she continued. I shook my head sadly, “No, I even checked the park!” “Yeah, I didn’t find anyone either,” Salem said sadly. “I did find something pretty interesting though! Follow me!” Liz exclaimed. Keeping a close on my friends, I swam through the water cleanly, determined not to lose Salem and Liz. Soon we reached the shore, a place where we came all the time to eavesdrop on the humans. “Translate for us!” Salem nudged. I concentrated and then turned back to my friends. “It’s not good news. The current drop we felt earlier, that’s because a tsunami happened.” My friends looked at me blankly. I sighed. “A tsunami is basically a giant wave,” I explained. They nodded, not understanding for a bit, then realization set in and they sat up straight. “Will it happen again?” Liz asked frightfully. I listened for a bit longer then concluded no, it wouldn’t happen again. Suddenly, I heard the familiar creak of the gates. A flood of friends rushed in and Oma and Letti surrounded me in a hug. They were breathing heavily. “Didn’t you hear the alarm?” they asked. “No,” I admitted, “I was too busy training” They hugged me again and I was happy. The Gymturtle Extravaganza could wait.  I was with my family and friends, right where I needed to be.