IMMOLATION: Chapter 19

A bell dinged at the front of the shop and Joan stopped a moment in her sorting, trying to guess which path would take her in that direction. She still wasn't sure, though this was still her first week working in the bookshop. As it was, she sat in one of the back corners, sifting through boxes of books, pricing them, and then stacking them in piles to be shelved later.

“Is Joan in today?” A familiar voice asked not far from where Joan sat.

Tom.

The small patch on Joan's back, between her shoulder blades, caught fire. Before Joan could react, the flame burned through her shirt leaving a fist sized hole.

“She's in the back,” Joan heard Mike tell Tom.

The fire on her back wouldn't go out. She stopped it from spreading at least and gained enough control over it to prevent it from burning her shirt any more.

Footsteps were getting closer. Joan looked herself over and the fire on her back intensified. After her first day, with all the dust and then her burning, she'd decided to wear clothes that she cared less about. Now she regretted that decision. Joan pulled her hair out of its ponytail to cover up as much of the flame as she could, not to mention the hole in her shirt. She smoothed out the lumps in her sweatpants but had no time to adjust her shirt. A shadow came around the corner, followed moments later by its owner.

“Looking good,” Melanie smirked. “I told Mike to buy you some time so you can relax a bit.”

Joan fixed her shirt as best she could while Melanie stood lookout.

“So, what do you think?” Melanie asked, picking up a book and turning it over.

“About Tom?” Joan asked, keeping her fire in check as she regretted more and more her clothing choices that morning.

Melanie's eyes lit up. “Well, no that's not what I was asking about, but we can talk about that too” She said with a devious look, “I was actually asking how you were liking the job.”

“It's fine, so far,” Joan said, standing up and turning for Melanie to appraise her, “I like books.”

“Mmmm,” Melanie said as she had Joan turn around once more, “You're hair's all lumpy. I'd put it in a ponytail or something.”

“It was in a ponytail,” Joan said, “But I was trying to hide this.”

Joan pulled her hair back up and wrapped the band around it, revealing the hole in her shirt and the fire on her back.

“I could still see the fire through your hair anyway,” Melanie said. “Besides, I think it's better this way. Use your fire to your advantage. Make a fashion statement, you know?”

Joan grimaced. “Burned clothes and random patches of fire on my body, just what every man wants in a woman.”

“I didn't say anything about Tom,” Melanie said innocently.

“Well that's a relief,” Tom said, stepping out from behind the two young women. “I hate being talked about behind my back.”

Joan blushed and reached up instinctively to pull out her hair band again.

“Please don't,” Tom said before Joan could let her hair back down, “You look good with it up,” Tom reached out, his hand growing closer to Joan's face, only to turn off to the side at the last minute to grab a book. “Does this come in paperback?”

Before responding, Joan checked her fire: it was hot but not spreading. The book in Tom's hand was a paperback. She thought back, making sure she'd heard Tom correctly, then chuckled sarcastically.

“Ha, ha,” She said and snatched the book away from him and placed it back on the shelf. Joan picked out the hardcover copy of the same book and put it in Tom's still-open hand. “Why yes,” Joan said, pulling the paperback copy back off the shelf, “Yes we do have that book in paperback.”

Joan held out the book for Tom, who laughed.

“You learn quick,” He said.

“It's not that hard when you only have one trick,” Joan replied offhandedly.

Joan turned her back to Tom, showing him the flame on her back, as she bent down to pick up the box of books she'd been sorting.

“Come on Melanie,” Joan said casually, “I think the rest of these need to go someplace else.”

They left a slack jawed Tom behind as they made their way to another part of the bookstore. Once they were out of earshot, they both broke out into stifled giggles.

“Did you see his face?” Joan asked

Melanie nodded, holding back her laughter. “He's been needing someone to cut him down to size,” She said. “He's always in here, playing his tricks, flirting like he's back in high school or something.”

“I know, right?” Joan smiled to herself for getting the upper hand on Tom.

Mike came around the corner, a confused look on his face. “Tom just left,” He said, “Are we all set for this Saturday?”

“Saturday?” Melanie asked, “What are you talking about?”

“So Tom didn't find you two?” He asked.

“Oh he found us,” Joan said, “And we put him in his place.”

“What?” Mike asked.

“We saw through his act, trying to play me for a fool,” Joan explained, “So we turned his tricks back on him.”

“Joan, do you know what you've done?” Mike asked.

“No,” Joan said uncertainly.

“He was going to ask you out,” Mike explained, “Mel and I were going to double with you so it wouldn't be awkward.”

“But,” Melanie began, “He's never asked anyone out, ever.”

“That's the point,” Mike said in frustration, “Do you know how long I've been working on him? Trying to build up his confidence enough so that he'd stop playing around and actually go on a date.”

“Tom?” Joan asked, “Lack confidence? Right.”

“You don't understand,” Mike said, “Tom and I were friends growing up and he didn't hit his growth spurt until our Junior year of high school. The first time he asked a girl on a date, he was a good foot shorter than she was. She didn't say anything, just laughed at him and walked away. He's been terrified of asking anyone out ever since.”

“Really?” Joan said.

Mike nodded. “I told him you were really nice and that he didn't have anything to worry about.”

The fire on Joan's back flared a bit.

“Please don't stand so close to the books,” Mike said, holding back his anxiety as best he could with Melanie present. Joan knew if it weren't for Melanie, Mike would have never hired her. “Look, watch the store,” He said, looking at Melanie. “I've got to go catch Tom and bring him back. And you,” Mike turned a hard look on Joan, “Please say yes if he asks you out.”

With that, Mike turned and left. Joan's fire went out and Melanie went to find the front desk, leaving Joan with the box of books that still needed sorting.

POETRY: QUACK and MORNING

These poems were inspired by some recent experiences I had with my son.

Quack

Quack went the duck and my son quacked back

Honk went the goose and my son quacked back

Tweet went the bird and my son meowed back

I blinked, and I looked, and I spied the cat

That distracted my son from quaking back

Morning

The sun is gone and blinds are drawn

The chill set in of evening

My drowsy son lies in my arms

All limp and slowly breathing

His eyelids droop but still he smiles

I lay him in his crib

With parting glance, a knowing look

He asks a bottle to imbibe

With blankets warmed and lights extinguished

I start to drift asleep

Until a fragrance wafts my way

Unwelcome scent, it creeps

One diaper later and change of sheets

My son is wide awake

He grabs a book and turns a page

My focus starts to slake

We play a game and sing some songs

The moon outside is bright

It must be full, the blinds are glowing

And cloudless be the night

It's not until I lay my son

Back down, asleep and calm

I hear a tone all too familiar

The sound of my alarm

It's not the moon outside my home

That brightens up the room

The rising sun is cresting up

This morning came too soon

But still my son is gently sleeping

No matter all the bother

I may be drowsy because of him

But that's my price to be a father

SHORT STORY: CRIER Part 1

“Perfection,” The man at the podium intoned, “Heaven, Nirvana, Utopia. Ideals, something striven for yet never achieved,” He took a drink from the glass beside his notes and took the opportunity to eye the immense crowd seated before him. “Until now.”

* * *

Fifty years later.

The world was beautiful. Mankind and nature had found balance at last. Crime was a thing people read about in history books, war too. The air was clean, architecture purposeful and stunning, wildlife abundant...Heaven on earth indeed.

Sam smiled to himself as he continued on his walk through the city. Of course, he always smiled. Everyone did. He'd never seen the city before, having been raised in the country. He wasn't a farmer like his family. Instead he'd found his calling in technology and, thanks to his work in cybernetics he'd been invited to work in the city.

The city, this city, the place where it all began. Sam couldn't believe it. If he'd been born in another time, he would have been filled with fear at the prospect of going to the city alone. Now, he only felt a shadow of that fear. Maybe here he'd even get to learn how it all worked.

Sam blinked three times in rapid succession. Instantly, blue light traced across his vision, creating his personalized heads-up display. He glanced up to the icon he needed and it expanded into the map of the city with his new address marked. He was close, he'd actually gone a couple of streets too far. Sam blinked three times again and his vision returned to normal. He turned around and began retracing his steps to street he needed. A faint hint of embarrassment and loneliness tinged his otherwise tranquil day. In a few moments he'd forgotten about his discomfort.

The building rose hundreds of feet into the air. Sam stood on the sidewalk staring up to where he guessed his apartment was and took in a deep breath. Sam loved taking in deep breaths. It didn't make sense to him, why he liked them, but he wasn't about to question it.

The forty second floor was too high up to take the stairs so Sam enjoyed the swift elevator ride. His apartment was already furnished with everything he needed to get started. He looked inside the fridge and found they'd even stocked that with his favorite foods. The clock on the wall read half passed seven. The Sun would be setting soon. Sam blinked three times and set his alarm for sunrise the following morning and then set about acclimating to his new surroundings. Tomorrow he would begin working for Ryshard Dynamics.

Dawn came and with it an all new variety of emotions: Fear, anger, sorrow, depression...and none of them his.

Sam screamed for the first hour. Cried through the second. They found him sometime during the third, curled up in the back of his closet. Seeing them brought relief, enough to hear and understand what they said, but the other emotions still flooded his mind with the ebb and flow of a storm tossed sea.

“You Sam?” One of the men asked, holding out a hand to help Sam up.

Sam managed to nod and took the offered hand.

“It'll be okay,” The man said, patting him on the back and leading him into the living room where several other people had gathered.

A woman in the room held a glass and gave it to Sam when he was lead to sit beside her. Sam took a sip and then spat it out.

“What is this?” Sam asked, the foreign taste still lingering.

“Water,” The woman said.

“I've never tasted water so awful,” Sam handed to glass back to the woman.

“All water tastes the same,” She said, taking the glass back, “You've just never noticed that you don't like it.”

Sam continued to try and get rid of the taste, opening and closing his mouth and rubbing his tongue back and forth on the roof of his mouth.

One of the men in the room, an older, well dressed man, stepped forward.

“I'm Dr. Ryshard,” He said, proffering his hand.

Sam shook it. His head was beginning to clear and he looked up into Dr. Ryshard's eyes. Wrinkles lined his face and mere traces of black remained in his otherwise silver hair.

“Sorry,” Sam said, “I didn't mean to be late for work.”

Dr. Ryshard chuckled and Sam flinched at the sound, though he did not know why.

“Young man,” Dr. Ryshard said, “Under the circumstances I believe we can let that slip by.”

Dr. Ryshard sat down beside Sam so that Sam found himself sandwiched between the woman on the one side and Dr. Ryshard on the other. Sam couldn't help but notice how small the couch really was.

“What's happened?” Sam asked when Dr. Ryshard didn't speak after he sat down.

“The world is perfect,” Dr. Ryshard said.

Sam looked around. His apartment was a mess. Filth on everything. How he had missed seeing it before was a mystery. The Sun shone dimly through clouds and smog and everything smelled of decay.

“Not anymore,” Sam corrected him.

IMMOLATION: Chapter 18

It was a pleasant afternoon. Summer hadn't taken hold yet and so the Sun was still a welcomed warmth on the face. Another benefit of the time of year was the fact that school was still in session and so only a handful of children played in the park.

Green Tea smiled to himself, enjoying his stroll across the grass before the meeting. He always liked to familiarize himself with his surroundings before having to focus on other things. He felt safer that way, prepared. And this meeting would be a difficult one. Perhaps the others knew about Leaves Early already, perhaps they knew the truth, or guessed it. Perhaps not. Either way he wanted to be prepared. His conversations with Tea Leaves and Early Bird had at least made certain that they'd have the same story to tell.

Green Tea's smile fell slightly. He didn't like lies. Honesty was what defined a person, their integrity. But some times one had to make sacrifices, make exceptions, in order to build something greater than themselves.

And this was greater than them all. The world was dying and if no one acted soon it would be too late. Green Tea had seen how the governments worked, how false their promises were. They lacked integrity.

Green Tea would see to it that their promises were fulfilled, whether they wanted them to be or not.

A strong hand came down gently and rested on his shoulder. Green Tea tensed and made a quick step to the side to get out from the tight grasp on his shoulder. The hand tightened and held him where he was. Green Tea turned his head and found Early Bird smiling down at him.

“You need to be calm,” The old man said, releasing Green Tea's shoulder and patting him on the back.

Green Tea frowned. They weren't supposed to meet like this, out of order. There had to be order or they would fall apart.

“We are over there,” Early Bird said, his voice rumbling as ever even though he spoke softly.

Green Tea looked to where Early Bird was pointing and saw the familiar crowd gathered.

“How are they taking the news of Leaves Early?” Green Tea asked as they made their way over to the picnic table where the rest of their group stood waiting.

“Hmmm,” Early Bird said, thoughtful, “Some better than others.”

Early Bird gestured again and Green Tea could see Feather Weight arguing with Tea Leaves, though they were still far enough away that their words were lost to the general babble of playing children. Tea Leaves, for his part, didn't seem to be backing down before Feather Weight's obvious displeasure.

“But why?” Feather Weight demanded as Green Tea and Early Bird joined the group.

Tea Leaves glanced to Green Tea, a plead for help in his eyes.

“What is this?” Green Tea asked. The grimace on his face was only feigned in part. His dislike for more lies made up the rest of his grimace.

“Leaves Early is gone?” Feather Weight asked, turning his attention to Green Tea.

“Yes,” Green Tea said, nodding his head and sitting down at the table. Most of the others followed his example and sat down as well. “I believe this has already been explained to you?”

“But why would she just quit?” Feather Weight demanded, “She'd want to see this through to the end.”

Green Tea pulled out his notes and began organizing them. “I thought it was clear,” He said, “With her phase of the operation completed she thought herself no longer needed,” Green Tea looked up from his notes and met Feather Weight's eyes. “She knows, as we all know, that the more people involved, the more risky things become. By removing herself from us she is protecting us all.”

Feather Weight still frowned but he didn't argue. Green Tea wasn't sure if he'd convinced Feather Weight, or any of the others for that matter. He always spoke too much and talked in circles when he lied. He only hoped none of the others noticed.

Green Tea pulled a thermos and some cups out of his bag. “Green Tea?” He asked.

“Tea Leaves?” Tea Leaves asked, hopeful.

“Oh come on!” Feather Weight exclaimed, “We all know each other by now so can we just skip this childish farce?”

Green Tea bristled. They had to have order. If there was no more order—

“I believe that would be wise,” Early Bird said.

“And I,” Tea Leaves agreed.

Green Tea hesitated, then nodded. “Let us move on with our meeting.”

Green Tea passed out small slips of paper to each of them and allowed them time to look them over before continuing.

“As you can see,” Green Tea said, “Our plans are accelerated.”

“You can say that again,” Feather Weight muttered.

Green Tea ignored him. “The nuclear phase will only take a month now, and we will be running Bird Feather's and Feather Weight's phase directly afterward, at which point—

“What's this here?” Feather Weight interrupted.

Green Tea frowned at Feather Weight's continued hostility. “I'm sorry,” He said, “What's your question?”

Feather Weight pointed to an item on the slip of paper, far down the list near the bottom.

“That is my task,” Green Tea said nonchalantly, “Now if we can return to—

“Wait, that's it?” Feather Weight asked, “No more explanation?”

Green Tea looked to Early Bird but he was pointedly looking to Bird Feather. Her face gave no inclination toward any emotion or even acknowledgment of the current argument. Green Tea turned his attention back to Feather Weight, not knowing what was going on with Bird Feather or what he could do about it even if he understood.

“I was going to walk us through the entire plan, then explain my part at the end, but if you'd prefer I can skip to the end now.”

“I think that would be best,” Feather Weight said, putting down his slip of paper and crossing his arms.

“Very well,” Green Tea said, “Up to now we've been focusing on saving our planet from the pollutants that are killing it. We have not put much consideration into what our actions will do to the people of the world. They depend on these sources of energy and if nothing is available to replace them, we may end up saving the Earth but destroying its people,” Green Tea held up his slip of paper and pointed to the item Feather Weight had been referring to. “This is how I hope to prevent humankind from destroying themselves.”

“And what exactly is a heat machine?” Feather Weight asked.

“It is a machine that converts heat into energy,” Green Tea said, “And I have a meeting in a few days with some people who should be able to help me make sure it is ready to replace the worlds energy.”

Feather Weight grunted but sat back on his bench and relaxed a bit.

“I think the rest of this is self explanatory,” Early Bird rumbled in his soothing voice, “Will you and Feather Weight be ready I time?” He asked Bird Feather.

Bird Feather did not look at Early Bird but considered the time line Green Tea had drawn out for them.

“Yes,” She said after a moments pause.

“The last of Leaves Early's package have been delivered,” Early Bird went on, “So once they begin, we will have to proceed more carefully.”

They all nodded.

“Then we should go our ways for now, I think,” Early Bird said and stood to leave.

Green Tea hid his displeasure with Early Bird taking control of the meeting but he knew not to question him in front of the others. As the others began to leave, Early Bird sidled up beside Green Tea on the bench. Bird Feather also did not leave.

“I do not disagree about removing Leaves Early,” Bird Feather said, “But do not insult us by lying about it.”

She got up and left the picnic table.

“Were we wrong?” Green Tea asked.

“No,” Early Bird answered.

“Is this going to cause us problems?” Green Tea asked, still watching Bird Feather walking through the park toward the parking lot.

Early Bird didn't respond at first. He too was watching Bird Feather. “If it does,” He said, “It won't be her that we'll have to deal with.”

Green Tea nodded in ascent as he scanned the park for any traces of Feather Weight.

“Any more news about the girl?” Green Tea asked.

“Not yet,” Early Bird said and they both sighed heavily.

POETRY: FAY DANCE

Past the leaves, behind the rock

Follow the winding path

Come hear their music, watch them dance

In glens and wooded lands

The fay folk rise, they skip and sing

To herald forth the Summer

Bewitching lays that snare the soul

Or set it free to wander

The young will linger, then grow old

Before the fay dance ends

And minds once touched by these folks tunes

Long after bear enchantments

So wary traveler, you have been warned

Of both the risk and reward

These good people offer so freely to all

In their feasts and merriments

SHORT STORY: EARTH AND MOON

Night.

Twinkling stars filled the endless space and silence reigned over all. A green-blue ring of light illuminated the distant Earth. In the dark center of the world, pockets of light shown like so many stars set on the Earth's face, forming constellations all their own. They sparkled, clear and white, with a steady constancy unrivaled by the real stars that surrounded them. In contrast, occasional flashes of red and orange flared on the Earth and, though no sounds could be heard, the Moon could see the quaver in the surrounding space from the shock.

Countless revolutions of the stars and planets had elapsed since the last time the Earth and the Moon had conversed. The Moon didn't know why. No anger raged within, no spite or malice, but still there must have been a reason. Perhaps, once long ago, the Moon had been angry, or the Earth. Perhaps they'd argued, perhaps not. The Moon couldn't remember. Not now, anyways, not after so long a time.

Another batch of the red and orange lights flared into life near the Earth's horizon and the green-blue edge disappeared, out shown by the flare and then held dim by a resultant haze and smoke.

Earth, The Moon thought, Would you answer if I asked, would you tell me the cause of your suffering? Could I help you?

Once, long before any of the freckled lights danced on the Earth's benighted surface, back when they had spoken often and openly, the Moon loved the Earth, loved watching the Earth as she moved through her revolutions. The Moon couldn't remember if the Earth knew, or reciprocated. The Moon didn't feel so now anyway and so found it hard to feel regret over the loss. But still, back in those days, when they were not so old, they had spoken and shared in the joys of watching life grow and spread.

Did I become jealous? The Moon thought as another powerful red light blossomed in another section of the Earth. Was that what pushed us apart? That the Earth had life, and I was barren?

Perhaps the Moon still had feelings for the Earth, it was hard to tell what was real and what was imagined fantasy when it came to such things anymore.

Sunrise wasn't far away. Just a few brief moment, really, and the Moon would have to wait another revolution for the Earth's stars to be visible again. But the Moon could not complain. The Earth was beautiful in the daylight as well, though in more recent revolutions, the Earth in the daylight had lost much of its former beauty. The green had grown brown. The blue had turned gray. And all had become hard to see clearly, as though masked by a thin yet constant cloud.

So long ago, they two had watched with excitement as life began on Earth. Then life on land. Then intelligent life. Man. That was when the troubles between the Earth and the Moon had begun. Something about Man had driven them apart, and still the Moon could not remember exactly what or why.

Perhaps I'll ask what's happening, The Moon thought, And the Earth may just answer like in times past. The Moon mused over this while the Sun rose above the Earth's horizon and the Moon continued on in its own prescribed path.

The Earth was harder to make out than usual this day. The surface was impossible to see in some places through the thick smoke that had replaced the clouds. A few flashes of red and orange still shown in the sunlight but not so much as the night before.

The Moon looked away into the blackness of space and surveyed the other planets and stars. It was frustrating, not knowing what was happening on the Earth when she was so close to the Moon. The other planets and stars were much too far away to speak with, and yet the Moon now knew just as much about what was going on with them as it did about the Earth.

Night came again on the Earth and the Moon stared eagerly at her, looking for the little lights she wore like stars. But they weren't there. A few places glowed with the red and orange of fires, something the Earth had first experienced and explained to the Moon long before Men. The Moon continued to search, looking over the surface of the Earth as she revolved and still no sign of the little stars.

Earth, The Moon finally called out, surprised at how easy it was even after all this time, What's happened?

The Moon waited, hoping the Earth would respond. She continued to turn, to pass on as the Moon watched, but she said nothing.

Earth? The Moon ventured again, Please, are you well?

Night continued on.

Hello Moon, The Earth said at last, her voice feeble, old, and full of sorrow.

Earth! The Moon exclaimed as fresh emotions flooded into him at hearing the Earths voice. What's happened?

How have you been, Moon? The Earth asked, ignoring the Moon's question.

Lonely, The Moon admitted without meaning to. But how are you? The lights—

It's nothing, The Earth cut the Moon off.

I liked your little stars, The Moon said, hopeful, Will they be back?

The Earth was quiet for a time. Night was nearly ended when she responded.

No, The Earth said, No, I don't think they will, She gave out a mournful sigh that made the Moon feel as though weeping were the only suitable response to such a sound.

Pity, The Moon said instead.

The Earth said no more and the Moon followed her lead. Just as the Earth had guessed, the lights did not return. After a time, the haze surrounding the Earth cleared and the Moon was able to see her with sharpness once more. And though they never spoke, it seemed to the Moon that the Earth was trying a little harder than before to show off the new forms of life growing on her.

They continued on this way even as the Sun grew red and began to swell. The Moon secretly hoped the entire time that the little lights would return some day, but they didn't. At last, the day came when life on the Earth all ended, the Sun had grown old and expanded too far, too close to the Earth for the life she harbored to continue.

The Sun kept growing and it was only a matter of a few more revolutions before they would be absorbed into the Sun. As the Sun grew closer, heralding their end, the Moon hoped that the Earth would say something, anything, just one last time. As the heat began to consume them, the Moon thought it heard the Earth give a sigh and he couldn't help but recall that day so long ago when her stars had gone out and she had sighed, so full of weeping.

Earth! The Moon cried out, not wanting his only companion through the ages to find her end in so piteous a state.

Oh Moon, She said, I thought you'd forgotten about me.

How could I? The Moon asked, pieces of its surface melting away. You are always right in front of me.

I am sorry my friend, The Earth said as her crust began to melt away exposing her throbbing core. It happened once before.

The Moon lacked the strength to say any more as the Sun enveloped them both. But before the very end of it all, he heard his companions plaintive voice, one last time.

My children.

They wept together and were no more.

IMMOLATION: Chapter 17

It was cold. The stone floors only helped the air conditioner bring the temperature down, as if in defiance of Joan's presence. The two policemen who had brought Joan to the courthouse escorted her swiftly to the large room with the scorched floor and protected viewing area. Judge Dervin was already there, seated behind the safety glass. A metal chair had been placed in the center of the room and Joan, being left alone in her portion of the room, sat down on it. As it was, Joan had to slump forward on her chair as the spot on her back was still burning. It felt good to just let it burn, allowing it to sap away the energy that churned inside of her.

“You're still burning,” Judge Dervin observed.

“I thought you'd be proud of me,” Joan answered. “Haven't you been wanting me to find a way to control my fire?”

Judge Dervin rubbed his face, studying her.

“And the train station?” Judge Dervin asked.

“So I only just figured it out, okay?” Joan sighed. “You may want to take note of how brief my episode in the tunnel was, and how I was able to protect my clothes.”

“I have,” He said.

Joan waited for him to continue but he seemed content, for the moment, to stare at her. Joan used the time to check on her fire. It hadn't grown any larger, nor had it shrunk, but the energy inside of her that fueled the fire had lessened.

Judge Dervin pointed a finger to the small flame.

“And so what is this?” His voice was level, curious even, much more welcome than his usual tone.

Joan studied the fire a moment longer before responding.

“You ever seen a gas water heater?” Joan asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?” He asked.

Joan plead silently with Judge Dervin.

“Yes,” He said after a brief pause.

“So you know that there's always that little flame beneath it, burning, right?” Joan asked.

“It's called a pilot light, and yes, I've seen them. They're there just in case there's a gas leak and prevents it from building up.”

“So this is my pilot light,” Joan finished, smiling at how smoothly her explanation had gone.

“I can't have you burning all the time,” Judge Dervin replied immediately.

Joan's heart sank but she thought fast and began speaking before Judge Dervin could continue.

“I won't have to,” She said. “I would only use it in situations where I might be in danger of losing control.”

Joan waited. Judge Dervin laced his fingers together and pursed his lips.

“Situations such as...?” He said with a motion of his hand.

“Like on the days I usually burn,” Joan answered him, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. To be given permission to burn at will, even on so small a scale, was what she had been striving for even before her release. “And on days when I'm under particular stress, like today.”

“And what was so stressful about today?”

“First day on a new job,” Joan said.

Judge Dervin mused some more. He seemed even more thoughtful than usual and Joan got the impression that he wasn't giving her his full attention.

A minute passed and Judge Dervin still sat with his hands folded in front of him, his eyes cast down to some paperwork on the table. Joan still waited but another minute passed with little more than a shift in weight from Judge Dervin.

“Sir?” Joan muttered tentatively before the third minute could elapse.

Judge Dervin stirred, shaking out of his reverie and staring, surprised, at Joan as if he'd forgotten she were there.

“Sorry,” He said quickly, shuffling his papers and rubbing his face briskly. “Where were we?”

Joan shifted in her hard metal chair.

“I'd just asked you if I could use a pilot light to prevent uncontrolled burns in the future?” She crossed her fingers for luck behind her back.

Judge Dervin sighed, glanced at the paperwork one last time and waved a weary hand at her.

“Very well,” He said and Joan almost leaped from her chair in excitement. “But I want to be informed every time you have to use your pilot light.”

“Of course,” Joan said immediately.

Judge Dervin shuffled his papers once more, giving them an unpleasant look and then waved Joan away.

“You're dismissed,” He said and Joan rushed eagerly away.

Judge Dervin continued to sit, frustrated with himself for his hasty approval of Joan's request. Still, as he read back over the paper in his hands, he couldn't help but feel justified in his distraction.

Mr. Dervin,

The print on the page read,

We regret to inform you that your daughter has been reported missing. Authorities have searched her apartment and found no signs of burglary or struggle though her car is missing as well...

The words continued but Judge Dervin's eyes didn't seem capable of making any more of them out. He buried his face in his hands though he did not weep. He couldn't, not yet at least. If he did, it would mean he'd lost hope for finding her.

“Oh my girl,” Judge Dervin muttered as he used the paper as a handkerchief, “My little girl.”

His breaths came in short and shallow.

“Please come home,” He said, “Please.”

The poor father held back his tears but his body still shook with grief.

“Please,” He managed to say one last time before rising and leaving the room.