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Nat could still feel the force. Looking at his wrist, he was deeply confused. Never had the ants been so forceful, and disrespectful. Nat placed his arm back under his blue and red Spiderman blanket, his back pressed against the wall as he sits below layers of empty shelves. The pantry was a pleasant space, a single dim light overhead, and typically up to 5 items of partially eaten foods at a time. Next to him was a box of wheat thins, which he would pull one out, and take small bites. Although, he would follow each one with a thorough lick, to ensure no crumbs were lost.

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Sitting at the edge of the lake as the waterfall near by takes over most of the sound in this hidden oasis, I cant help but feel an ache in my guts. A few deep breaths, which in this place feels so clean and crisp, help me feel calm again but this will be the hardest spirit I’ll probably ever hope to have a bond with. How did I even get dragged into this ridiculous mission. Just because I’m the only summoner in literal ages doesn’t mean you can just use me as you please! Another calming breath and my first spirit and friend Hesh slithers up my arm and around my neck.
“You’ve grown to be a strong summoner. Especially after the loss to that Kin fellow.” He says in my head and I glare that the memory of that man who I battled in some contest I was forced into. I’d won so many duels, only to lose to a waste of flesh. He’d killed my first water spirit and it left me spiraling. Thankfully they weren’t really killed. Spirits don’t die, they get weak for a few years after their masters die, but they themselves can never perish, just rest long enough to remake themselves. But it was enough to push my drive to get stronger and gather more summoned spirits. I’d be ready for him the next time we meet.
Thanks to Hesh who is now happyily wrapped around my arm for a battle, I’m ready to face this dragon spirit. I’m grown and a full figured woman who is as pretty as I am strong. This water dragon spirit is one of the lasts pieces needed to not only finish this ridiculous mission, but to beat that bastard without fail. With a wicked grin and a crack of my neck and knuckles I step into the water, calling on a wind spirit to allow my feet to be like feathers and walk on the glistening clear waters below.

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A room was 75 cents, so not many people tend to stop by. Initially it was nice being on my own, but things got boring after a while. I couldn’t bear the long periods of silence, but I also couldn’t bear exposing myself, so I chose to stay in my space. The area in which I stay isn’t suited for a man, but that’s alright for me. I’m not the picky type.
Being in here twenty-four-seven, I began to find new forms of entertainment. The walls were the thinnest barriers that you could imagine, I could hear everything that was going on. Listening to the stories of the other residents kept me in touch with the outside world. I learned new slang throughout the years and even got to overhear some arguments: those were my favorite.
It became a game to torment those people because they never realized that I was the one behind their worries. Each night I would clench my gut to conceal my laughter as the residents from the rooms next door would complain about strange noises that they thought the other was making.

...

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Akila’s Story

After her beloved Ufa is exiled from the city of Tal, Akila escapes her father to run away with Ufa and make a life together in the wilderness. They travel beyond a mountain range called Edge of Known and have discovered that the Ocean Above the Sky reaches the ground. They decide to make their home in the shallow water in Ocean Above the Sky. Akila scouts out the area and finds a skeleton still dressed in strange clothes tangled in kelp. She puts pieces of stories and knowledge together to realize that this unfortunate soul came through one of the invisible portals in their world and drowned. Akila decides to grow their family fungal garden (as these special fungal spores are what allow the inhabitants of the Ocean Above the Sky to breathe the water) on that spot, in hopes that anyone else who came through the portal might be saved.

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Looking at Claire’s body on the ground made me sick. I ran into the bathroom, slammed the cherry-wood door and started puking the gin and tonics that were in my stomach. When I stopped puking, I could hear people whispering outside of the door. I slapped the door with the palm of my hand and heard the roaches scatter. I turned on the brass faucet and splashed cold water on my face. I then heard a knock on the door. “What the hell do you people want?” I thrust the faucet off and snapped the knob right off the marble sink.

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In the beginning, it was a slow march of progress for Estella - but soon the walk became a cautious jog as she entered her final years of highschool. Senior year was an awkward stage of growth for everyone, not yet old enough to drink yet old enough to pick up a weapon to fight another child in the never-ending expansion of the military complex that was the American Army; a time of endless possibilities according to our underpaid teachers. Lakemount High movement of chaos within a bleak brick facility that stank of the neighboring lake’s algae. Estella was probably one of the only things colorful about the place - her aura contrasting against the background of mid-west mediocrity. It was often painful to walk along the hallways, the decaying rusted ruins of lockers and bathrooms was a blaring alarm to the amount of money Lakemount received each year from the trailer park property taxes that surrounded the dead town. Although it hurts to say it, I fell alongside the blur of students that were exiting the school into a subpar life of nine-to-fives and a young cirrhosis-caused death. I guess that is why Estella wanting to be my friend all those years ago was the ultimate plot-twist in the story of my life.

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I wish that my thoughts could turn off. That I could simply erase the tumbling words that ramble on within my ears from existence. That I could do this long enough to concentrate on a conversation, a lecture, my job. Yet, I simply cant. The words ramble from one topic to the next and before I can stop myself, they fall from my lips in a burst of nonsense that halts the room in its randomness.

The worst thoughts are the intrusive ones. These are the kind that pop out of nowhere and leave my feeling shameful and horrified all at once. These are the thought that are not my own.

What if you drove your car off the bridge?

What if you dropped this baby right now?

What if you jammed this butter knife in your eye?

Like what?

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As Nat crouched before the mound of sand, he gave a sigh of exhaustion. Getting anything from the machine last night was hard for the others, and it felt like someone gave it an upgrade or something. But he managed to bum a square of a Hershey's bar from Joey, and made sure to keep it in a corner of the freezer overnight. Not like there was any other use for it.
He reached out to present the sweet, soon-to-melt block with his thumb and forefinger. Soon, the center mound swelled with a pile of ants, and they seemed impatient at such a sight. He lowered it slowly, like normal, and made sure they knew who it was who's feeding them. Suddenly, the mass of ants latched hold of the square, twisting Nort's wrist. He was forced to let go of the chocolate, shaking his hand and gripping it with the other, and looked at the mound with wide eyes.

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“I see you stole the summoners book Yui.” My all to unamused professor says while watching my new and first summon spirit slither around my neck and shoulders.

“Professor Mink, Shadow Snake, Shadow snake, professor.” I introduce and my polite shadow snake nods at my professor who still has yet to let go of the bridge of his nose.

“What even is that creature?” He asks looking at my first summoned creature worriedly.

“I thought shadow snake was pretty on the nose in describing him. Oh he says I need to name him to complete our contract but boi am I stuck on names. Any ideas?” I say while my spirit whispers in my ear that others cant help with it.

“I’m not allowed to help with that.” My professor states like he didn’t just hear my snake say that. But then something hits me and I turn my head to look at my sneaky snake.

“He cant hear you can he?” And my snake shakes his head. “If I talk in my head to you can you hear me?” He nods. “Cool.”

“Not cool Yui. You were told to wait and have someone be with you when you summon your first spirit.” My professor grumbles. I shrug

“You said that could years- I don’t do years” I protest as I pet my new spirit.

“At least put him away, hes bound to be draining you of mana.”

“Actually he feeds not on mana, he just felt my presence, liked it and asked to be my first. So- he can always be with me.”

This seems to flabbergast my professor and he groans and whines at me and talks my ear off saying I managed to summon a legendary beast. Sweet.

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The tiny footsteps grew louder as I raised my body to view the room next door through the cracks in the wall. A small girl dashed toward the wall right at me and slammed into it. My body shook as the exposed wooden paneling pressed into my thin frame, leaving red indents in my skin. I knew that I said I was getting bored without any entertainment, but this is not the type that I wanted. I wanted the type that would be easily startled if I were to knock against the wall, the type that would stay up all night because they heard me drop a mug on the ground, not this little brat.

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Claire’s grandma took me to the library in the west wing of the home. The room was filled with books and memorabilia, all of which had likely been collected over generations of wealth and brown-nosing New York’s upper class. Turning away from the book shelf, I saw Claire’s grandma was standing with one leg up on the mahogany desk and her dress pulled up. “See anything you like?” she asked. I looked away quickly. “You guys have a great collection of memoirs.” She advanced towards me. “We could take some up to my room and look them over.” She put her arms around the back of my neck. “I should actually go find Caire.” I left the room quickly.

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He was breathing the water. Soon he could make out individual lights growing brighter around him. And the face in front of his was now light enough that he could see her features plainly.

“You are going to live.” Her voice sounded like it was right inside his ears.

Dashel just blinked and floated there.

“What is your name?”

Dashel tried to speak but it came out as a screech. The girl winced and laughed. She swam off, and that’s when Dashel saw her tail.

No legs. Not human.

His heart raced and panic began to rack his brain again. He’d heard of fairytales about magical creatures like her.

She came back a few seconds later with a fistful of something and she stuck it to his throat. It tingled on his skin. He reached up and touched it. It was gelatinous and gooey.

“Try again,” said the girl in her intensely piercing voice.

“Dash.” Dashel’s voice startled himself. “My name is Dash.”

“My name is Akila. Where are you from?”

“Kansas City.”

“Why have you come here, Dash of Kansas City?”

Dashel thought for a moment. “I was fleeing faction thugs—bad guys. I jumped into a portal.”

Akila stared at him.

Dashel looked around for the first time. The portal was nowhere in sight. “I have to get back.”

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I had missed those eyes - furious with excitement and curiosity about the world around her. For a while, it seemed as though the fluttering joy inside of her chest had died - a stench that seemed to follow her mood wherever she glided to. Estella’s eyes were bleak and glazed over, seemingly ignoring the chaos of highschool around her. She had become numb and ached to retrieve the feeling she once had - the brutally real, and raw, emotions that crescendoed with mania. Sexual exploits, drugs, and parties with people who were far too old and cared far too little about exploiting a broken girl. It was a rush - and with that withdrawal of life came the deepest and darkest emptiness that she would soon find out was a depressive episode. I remember sticking with her through her dangerous escapades into penthouse suites and famous men, but I also remember the grueling nights of screaming she did just to overcome the anesthesia that came at a constant drip in her life. It pained me then, and still follows me now to remember this caricature of a person I once knew - but she came back to me in time. I remember her whispering into my shirt, wet with tears and sticky with snot about how much she didn’t deserve this kindness, but I would always persist with my repetitive mantra that has remained solid throughout our entire relationship: That’s what friends are for.

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What in the living fuck was that? Oh, man, did I just say that? What's come over me? Ok. OK. no one is looking at me, I must have said that to myself. The language though, where did that come from? Wait, why am I still rambling on to myself? A panda bear just rolled out of the driver's seat of that car as it drove into a circus tent. Maybe I should get my eyes checked, my prescription could be off again. Excuse me good sir! Did you happen to see a panda jump out of that speeding car that just went by? This random person is staring at me funny, I must be going crazy. "Yea, what about it? Oh didnt you hear? they passed a law that pandas could now drive. Funny bunch they are, right?" he says. "Oh yes, thank you!" I say. My goodness? What has the world come too, allowing pandas to drive! Last year it was crocodiles and their short stubby arms. The year before unicorns whose horn always got stuck in the car's roof. Now pandas? Soon they will start to let us humans drive. Oh the insanity.

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I couldn't believe that that dude just said that to my face. Literally, what kind of guy says something so completely and utterly stupid? My faith in humanity gets lowered more and more each day, society is disgusting. After what's been going on with the constant rallies and debates, I can't see how anyone who has any sliver of intelligence in their being could side with this man. I yanked my recording device away from his mouth and turned my back, allowing the other reporters to get closer to him.

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I'm not surprised, really not at all. She's never around, so it's not like she would recognize Henry is dying until he's dead. Which he is, now. But if you barely keep enough in the house for your own kid, of course you would forget to buy cat food. I'm a better parent to these ants than she ever could be to me, and I don't even look like them. We are completely different, and yet I'm their savior just by dropping bits of candy into this sandy mound.

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Herp de derp. Yeah I don’t have a clue what I’m doing here. Do people do things while thinking? I don’t think I’m moving. I should move. My lips are moving- I’m talking? I think so. What am I saying? I just drew a circle in chalk like the one in this big leathery book and it glowed when I said one word from the book. This is weird, its me, but not me. Should I have stolen this book and done this thingy thing? No absolutely not. Oh the circle changed colors- oh pretty, lots of colors. Am I still talking? It’s not English now- was it English to begin with? I think I understood it a second ago. Oh more pretty colors- okay I’d like my body back now please. It’s only a kids body but its new and I’m cute- oh I’ve stopped talking- the chalk marks are gone. What’s that blob of shadows. Oh it moves- it slithers. It’s a sneaky sneaky snake-

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The abundance of French classical paintings and rare stone carvings made the house look more like a museum than a home. I can’t begin to understand the pretentious reasons I should care about all of this stuff, and the truth is I don’t. I hope to get away from this house and these people as quickly as possible. I can’t listen to another discussion over immigration and the deterioration of the American way of life. I am only here to make Claire happy. Claire wants me to show her family how well she has done in life, and I am an integral part of that. I am successful and own an apartment on the upper west side.

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She reminded me of a butterfly - her grandeur spoke novels for what little she talked. Her eyes seemed to flutter as she whispered, deep blues blinking in and out of existence with each graceful touch of those painted pink lids. Estella was a marvel all on her own with her diverse array of platformed boots and dazzling costumes for all three hundred and sixty-five days of her seemingly immortal life. Detailed with every rotating design, however, was her cape: a thin string of ribbon tied around her dainty form holding together a woven silk of eyes and stripes: butterfly wings

“A peacock butterfly,” she would clarify with a squeak - excitement glittering in her large doe-eyes.

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What in the living fuck did I just see? Did a panda bear just roll out of the driver's seat before the car rolled into a circus tent? I'm losing my mind! Well gee golly, maybe that was part of the circus act being all close to a circus tent any everything. Wasn't that panda bear just the most adorable thing you have ever seen? I hope it's ok!

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What do the kind of decisions and responses your characters take tell you about your tendencies and concerns as a writer?

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How do your settings help identify your stories as your own?

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What do you find absurd in your own life or in the wider world?

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Think about what the similarities and differences are between your character and yourself: expressive language, habits, life decisions, relationships, physical characteristics, etc.