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The main character of my most my works at the end of her character development.

Application Day Chapter One: Take a Deep Breath and Count to Three

Written by - Reconcilethewords and Paperhelmet The big-headed man entered the craft from behind Sam and Bailey with a synthetic hiss, the beam of blue-white light collapsing behind him. He rubbed his pupil-less eyes - which blinked horizontally - and straightened his back with a crack. "You kids alright? Running into a Beam Elevator is a good way to make yourself sick, y'know.” He rubbed his pupil-less eyes - which blinked horizontally - and straightened his back with a crack. “I'd say save that kind of thing for emergencies. Economy instant transports usually can't handle solving two directions at once. Been known to port the contents've your stomach in half a second late." Sam leaned against the nearest wall he could find, bracing himself on his forearm and covering his mouth with his hand. A couple of dry heaves later he spoke hoarsely. "I don't understand... Anything you just said..." The Fountain Dew in his stomach sloshed around sickeningly. His gum was gone; likely swallowed on the way up. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Bailey was with him and sighed in relief when he found her. Bailey, eyes watering from the florescent lights, frantically went for her bag. In the light of the ship Sam could make out her heart shaped face and almond-colored eyes. There was a subtle upturn of her nose with a high widows peak that was hidden amidst head of tight brown curls that fell at her shoulders. Her lips, dry and cracked, were full and in a perpetual pout even when she was smiling. She was thick legged with full hips, her face holding a bit of baby fat in her flushed cheek. She was a full head shorter than Sam and only inches taller than the alien standing just beside her. Gold and silver bangles hung from hers wrists by tens and her nails were painted a striking orange with flaking varnish that hadn't been reapplied in months. Her fingers were covered in bandages in a rainbow of gaudy colors - some peeling back to reveal small cat-like scratches that had yet to start healing. Her feather ornament, seemingly to be from a very large avian, sparkled with gold filament in the lights. It looked to have been dipped in gold metal, the edges razor sharp to touch. Her messenger bag, showing it's age in a frayed strap and creases, was peppered with novelty pins and flags of several different countries. The largest being a Aboriginal-inspired orca jumping a cresting wave of blue and green - the words 'Go Canucks!' splayed over the middle. Her face was a sickeningly green pallor, clearly suffering the same stomach pain as Sam. The world was lost on her for a moment as she fussed over whatever was inside. He could see her in living color now, as well as the big-headed man a few steps behind her. He was your typical grey alien; big, ovular head, black eyes and no nose to speak of. His grey skin was smooth and hairless, except for the area around his mouth, dusted with stubble. The safety-yellow jacket and slacks he was wearing in addition to the matching trucker hat conjured the image of a intergalactic bus-driver. Sam raised his brow and sharply inhaled through his teeth. "You uh... You're an alien... With a hat," he offered flatly. The grey snorted. "And you're a human; with working eyeballs." "Please be okay, please be okay." She mumbled worriedly under her breath. A woozy whine resounded from the bag in a nauseated trill. Sam turned his head to the side, then looked back at Bailey. "Did... Was that you?," he questioned, somewhat worried. "Did your bag just make bird noises?" "No!" She began out of habit, only to cut herself short with a nervous smile, "Yeah... yeah it did." Bailey relented awkwardly. The grey laughed and pushed past. "Kid, if you've got an animal you can let it run around. Well... Long as it ain't anything dangerous." He pulled up his slacks and moseyed on through a nearby door that Sam assumed lead to the rest of the ship. She watched the grey leave through the sliding door and whistled comfortingly to her messenger bag, rubbing soothing circles in the side. Upon realizing that Bailey wasn't going to take the man's (she wondered if they had the same pronouns) advice her bag gave an irate trill and smacked violently against her thigh in a child-like fit. "Yeah, real mature you big baby. You can deal." She scowled at it impishly, but not bothering to stop the thrashing. Her hand white-knuckled the strap, the frayed edges lining up with the bandages on her fingers. "Sorry," She told Sam, "S'been a long trip, I think he's restless - or being cooped up for so long. I've been promising to feed him since Jasper..." Sam made a map in his head and drew and imaginary line from British Columbia - The home of the 'Go Canucks!' logo on Bailey's bag - to Medicine Hat, Alberta and cringed. "You went a full province without feeding the thing? That's no good. We gotta get something in it before... I dunno, what is it even?" She shrugged helplessly, "Best we probably do before he forces his way out." Bailey muttered, cringing in memory of what he had done to her neighbors mobile home back in the trailer park where she had grown up. "He's kinda like a bird --" Bailey, standing just shy of Sam, was cut short as her bag trilled excitedly. A long tongue slipped from the corner of the flap and licked at his pant leg - stealing a spider that had made a home there. The material where the tongue had made contact began to sizzle. The tongue slithered back with a quick snap, an elated muffled chirping coming from within "... Like a bird, you said?" Sam stared at the patch of seared denim, pulling it away from his leg to get a better look. He tried to think of all the different kinds of birds he knew with acidic tongues, but unfortunately none sprang to mind. "Look, maybe we should follow the alien, God I never thought I'd say that and mean it, and mean that. Maybe... Idunno, maybe there's non-pants related food for it inside, all I've got it in my bag is candy." He turned around and made for the set of steel doors the grey had left through. ‘Okay... Find your happy place... Deep breath. Just find somewhere to sit down and collect your thoughts, its no big deal you've been abducted by aliens, happens to tons of people.’ He shook his hands loose and moved one toward the doors. ‘If crappy B-Movies on the Space network have taught me anything...’ An electronic beep ‘arped gently from an unseen speaker and the doors flew apart. His smile was triumphant. ‘Yeah, thought so.’ “I’m sorr…” Bailey began, only to be interrupted subsequently abandoned by Sam in the small hallway as he marched towards the sliding doors. A nervous trilled questioned from her bag, feeding off Bailey’s own anxiety. She mumbled under her breath, giving her bag a soft but firm pat. She was quick to fall in step behind Sam. She was wholly unprepared for what greeted her. “W-Whoa.” The doors retracted in a snap, spurred by the sensor bars visible in the doorframe. It beeped twice as Sam and Bailey stepped through, both flabbergasted and confused by the sight. Beyond them it opened into a gigantic circular space with a vaulted ceiling that stood at least fifty feet above their heads. The room was ringed by massive digital flat screens that could have been easily mistaken for windows in the chrome bulkhead. It gave a panoramic view of the outside of the ship that was resting on the top of the knoll they had only just sprinted across, still lit up by the diffused blue glow of the ship’s spot-lights.

The interior itself was an anachronistic amalgamation of alien technology and 1950’s décor. One half of the ship was dedicated to a styled lounge and a open air kitchen. Diner-inspired seats made of pastel blue upholstery ringed the plasma viewings screens with tin-table tops between them. People, of varying races and species, seated themselves sparsely in the rows. Giddy giggles and bouts of excited chatter broke over them in a quiet din as the smell of greasy food and burnt bacon wafted from kitchen. It looked as if a piece of 1950’s Americana had been ripped off the side of a highway and jammed into the corner of a Roswell spacecraft. A checker-tiled quartz counter top separated the lone cook from the passengers as she flitted between the grill top and the coffee maker. She was dressed down in a loose fitted t-shirt with tattoos from wrist to elbow chewing nosily on a piece of bubble gum. Bar stools ringed her counter and a few of the passengers had taken refuge there clutching chalk-white cups of coffee. Bailey, barely able to tear her eyes away, flicked them over to the second half of the ship where the marriage of the two impossibilities happened. It was free of seats and wide-screens, instead piled with World War II telemetry and radars. The scripts scrolled in indecipherable runic letters that reminded her of the movie ‘Independence Day.’ Sam could only stare, taking in the odd menagerie of races and eras that forced themselves into his eyes. Silently, unblinking and without looking, he retrieved a dark-chocolate almond bar from his backpack. "Baiwey... Are you feeing vis," he said, not so much a question as begging confirmation that he hadn’t gone crazy. "Mhm," Bailey whined high pitched behind lips drawn into a thin line. He scanned the area for other humans or anything vaguely modern and familiar, but every creature his eyes could find save for Bailey was only human at first glance. Some had horns, antennae, tails, wings... One had the lower body of a goat, to which Sam could only muster an exasperated blow. The grey dressed in yellow reappeared overhead, sitting comfortably in a levitating chair and fiddling with some kind of futuristic tablet. He came to a slow stop in the middle of the transparent dome that occupied the center of the ceiling, several holographic screens flickering to life around him. Fixing his hat, the grey pulled a small microphone from the arm of his chair and a touch of feedback echoed throughout the craft. "Attention passengers, attention passengers, this is Captain Larrz of the S.S. Sunspot. In about five minutes we will be prepared for take-off. If there are any calls you have to make before we leave satellite range, please make those calls now. Estima-... Haha, whoops, hit the coffee maker. Estimated time 'till we reach the school, about twelve hours. Feel free to have a nap, we'll wake you up when we get there. Oh, kitchen's open too, please inform our lovely Chef Ganymede of any allergies before ordering. Enjoy the flight." Sam swallowed. "... This is actually happening... I guess... We should find somewhere to sit." With the Captain announcement, Bailey grimaced. On top of the eighteen hours she had already traveled, her cramped thighs ached at the idea of tacking on another twelve. 'Wait, doesn't it take three days to get to --' "Ha-buh-wha?" She babbled to Sam, her voice cracking with prepubescence. "R-right!" she squeaked, her cheeks red from embarrassment. "Food." She daftly stated, pivoting on her heel toward the counter. Sam climbed into one of the stools lining the porcelain counter. It was stained with age, but otherwise clean, save for the odd crumb or two. He eyed a few of the less obvious contraptions in the kitchen, unsure of what more a kitchen needed than a stove, a fridge and a few cupboards. One gadget had a big rectangular window set in it, taller than it was wide, with a narrow slot just thick enough to maybe slide a CD into. Another resembled a water cooler, but with a thin mechanical arm in place of a spigot. He shook his head. It was going to take a long time to get over any of this. "Hey uh... Why don't you go first," Sam offered to Bailey, admittedly somewhat scared of starting a conversation with anyone that wasn't for sure a human being. This "Ganymede" seemed to fit the bill but something felt... off about her. "You need it more than I do, after all, heh." With a faint nod of agreement, Bailey sat down beside Sam and rested her satchel on her thighs. It moved and twitched, chirping anxiously; invigorated by the smell of bacon grease. "Um," She glanced warily at the menu, finding her cheeks warming yet again with embarrassment. "I've never actually done this before... I've always just gone out and bought packages of raw meat from a butcher or grocery store..." She told Sam under her breath, gesturing towards the cook with both hands discreetly, "How do you ask 'Hey, can I have whole raw chicken if you got one?'" She asked Sam helplessly Sam laughed, amused. "A whole chicken? Like from a mini-mall or something? What kind of dog are you keeping in there?" He scratched the back of his hand, still nervous. "Why don't you literally just say that? We're on a... Hoo... We're, we're on a U.F.O., I'm pretty sure 'I'd like a whole chicken, please,'" he exaggerated the phrase with some silly gestures, "isn't too much of a thing to ask for." He looked back at the kitchen. "Speaking of, I guess we know what they do with all that abducted livestock now...” Bailey snorted with a quiet giggle. "I didn't say it was a dog," She reminded with a playful hint. It was still surreal to be open about her most guarded and closely kept secret. Bailey pulled out her cellphone and laid it on the counter, it was a clunky and old, the first version of a touch screen. She tapped the screen, opening up the menu, and selected a note pad application. In it had several lines, once of which was labeled 'School.' She opened the application and typed. 'Mode of transportation; spaceship. ‘Three day journey condensed into twelve hours.' Bailey sighed as she set it down, shook her head, and waved down the cook. She glanced at Sam, pushed down her cowardice, and let the words tumble out of her mouth. "Hey, um - It is possible to get chicken? Like... a whole one? Raw?" She cringed, "Er... If not, s-s'not a bother... Sorry." Chef Ganymede looked over, a baby-blue bubble hovering just in front of her lips. It popped audibly, and she sucked it back into her mouth. "Sure thing, sugar," she responded tiredly, placing her phone in her cleavage and turning towards the kitchen. "... Huh. It really was that easy," Sam let slip. "Er, uh, I mean, see? It's that easy." He coughed. His eyes followed Ganymede, expecting her to make a beeline for the refrigerator, his face falling slightly when she went the opposite direction. She opened the front of a tall, metal cylinder that was separated vertically into tiers, filled to the top with colored discs. She took a single pinkish-beige disc from the middle and closed the door, heading over to the windowed gizmo Sam had noticed earlier. With precision that spoke volumes about her familiarity with her job, she slid the disc into the odd slot in the bottom of the machine and activated it with a few prods of a keypad.

Sam attempted to shake himself awake when he saw the pink wireframe of a plucked and headless chicken appear in the rectangular window. He had to add a double-take and a quick session of rubbing his eyes when he saw the real deal reconstitute itself from whatever was in that disc. In just under a minute Ganymede had whisked the poultry onto a red and white dinner plate and served it to Bailey, cold, dead, and surprisingly fresh, as if it had just been washed and prepared. "And for yourself, darlin'?," she asked Sam nonchalantly. Sam's mouth hung open as if to catch flies. "... I uh... Need a moment." "That's amazing! Just like outta a sci-fi comic-" Bailey gushed loudly, only shrink in on herself as the plate was slid in front of her. Several heads turned, some chuckled, and another muttered disdainfully. "Mundanes." Bailey mumbled her thanks, hiding behind a fringe of her curls, and opened the flap of her bag to tip the chicken in. An excited trilled erupted from the leather - the bag throwing itself around on her lap with the sounds of noisy snap of jaws and a whine for more seconds later. "That is all you get for now. More later, promise..." She looked bashfully up at the cook. "H-How much do I owe you?" Ganymede raised her palm and shook her head. "First one's on the house, sweetie. Most students get on this ol' starbucket with not a Copper to their name. It'd be unfair to charge." She shot a steely glare at the man who had spoken up in a fit of prejudice, leaving him suitably cowed. "And don't mind the peanut gallery. Non-students should count themselves lucky we let them on at all. This ship belongs to the School, darnit." She turned her attention back to Sam, who was fidgeting something fierce, eyes fixed on the point in space whereupon the chicken ceased to be. "I uh... I guess I'll have uh..." Sam thought for a moment. "... What's a mundane?" Ganymede laughed, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Humans, sugar. Non-magic humans that can't see past the Barrier. Something you two ain't anymore." Sam rested his chin on his palm. "Well that just raised more questions..." Bailey shifted on her seat, leaning over her bag to open up a new notepad on her phone. "I read about it," she offered to Sam. "From what little I could find, it's like walking around with a blindfold on? Sorta?" Her dark eyes fled to Ganymede, wondering if the metaphor was the correct one. The tallish woman straightened her dark hair and examined herself in the reflection of the cash register before her. "Something like that. The long and the short of it is that anything outside of what regular earth folks consider 'normal' is essentially invisible to their senses. It's called the Barrier by most. Sort of a thing the brain flicks on to hide the Magical World from humans, lest they go nuts from the revelation, or get into trouble." Ganymede leaned on the counter. "The two sides separated by the Barrier can't do nothin' to each other. Can't see each other, can't hear. Can't even touch. They just pass right through like they don't even exist." She looked between the two clueless students-to-be, taking something of a sadistic pleasure in watching them try to figure everything out from her words alone. "'Course, the Barrier can be weakened by being around a lot of magical stuff, or having magical blood down your family tree. And if a Mundane's Barrier's weak and they stumble on into something their brain can't think of a lie for..." She snapped her fingers and watched the startled duo jump. "The Barrier breaks! Then that lucky little Mundane is on their way to becoming a part of the Magical Community... Like you two." She smiled warmly."Though, you may not be all the way yet... Comes in stages, y'know. First you start seeing and hearing things you swear aren't there... Then you're actually able to interact with some of the more 'human-like' Magical Folk. Next thing you know, you're seeing everything the way it should be." Ganymede's expression turned wistful as she reminisced in silence of the time her own Barrier shattered. "Wow..." Bailey said through her teeth, but her eyes fell to her satchel. She tried to process the fact that she had, inadvertently, joined another sect of people. Magical people. Magical Society. "Like... muggles vs wizards type thing?" Bailey couldn't stop herself from blurting out, the only comparison her overwhelmed mind could supply. "I-I mean..." She gave up, then, and buried her face in her hands. Ganymede raised an eyebrow. "... Muggles? What're those?" "Its a thing in a book..." Sam explained absent-minded, leaving Ganymede puzzled. "So like... If I'm getting this right, there's just been this... World, that we couldn't see going on around us since were born, and we're only starting to see it now? Because something," fingers raised in quotation, "'Magical', happened to us?" "That's the simple way to put it, yeah," Ganymede nodded. "So our whole lives, there could have been... Things we couldn't see spying on us? Like, a ghost or something could've been break-dancing beside me while I slept for all seventeen years of my life and I would have never known?" His tone steadily grew more and more serious while a translucent girl several stools down giggled to herself. "Well, with some of the more human-ish folk, your brain would've dressed them up as humans so as to lighten the load, so to speak. So a fella that was, say, an Elf wouldn't be able to pull a stunt like that. But something as complex as a ghost could get away with a break dance or two, I'd reckon." She winked cheekily. Sam hugged his stomach, suddenly wishing he'd never asked. "... I feel ill..." Bailey reached her hand up as if to pat Sam consolingly on the shoulder, but thought better of it. "It's okay man," She offered instead, "Maybe a glass of water?" Bailey asked Ganymede pleadingly gentle. She worried her lips between her teeth, troubled with thought.There was so much she didn't know and so much to take in -- and Bailey hadn't been normal - Mundane - for a long time. Not since she was eight years old. She thought, then, on the website pages that came up '404 error' and found herself saying. "I don't think I'm fully out of it yet... I still can't see some things. What about you, Sam? What made you start seeing things?" "Well, uh..." he began. "It was a couple months ago, when I was still living with... Living at my old place. Crummy neighborhood, so, of course all the crummy kids that lived there went to the same crummy school I did. I was eating a chocolate bar... Foreign stuff, got it off the internet, and some jerk, Jason Carmichael shoved me outta my seat. We were in the courtyard, so it got covered in dirt and gravel and... stuff. I'd told him to back off the day before. He was always picking on me..." Sam knocked back a mouthful of water after Ganymede placed it in his hand. "... So, knowing what he does to kids who tick him off, I... reacted. I hucked a bunch of rocks in his face." Sam made a throwing gesture. "I'd thrown the chocolate too, I didn't even realize I picked it up, and then... It exploded. Right in Jason's fat, ugly mug." He nodded, staring into space, almost like an old, grizzled war veteran recalling his days in Vietnam. "It had to be the chocolate too... I remember bits of burning chocolate stuck to my fingers. After that, I got expelled for 'endangering a fellow student' by 'bringing fireworks to school'... Got in a fight with my f-... My parents. Started seeing weird things out of the corner of my eye and finding TV channels I never knew existed. And uh, yeah. I guess that's where mine got... Broken."After a short silence he stretched loudly to ease the tension. "Uh, w-whaaat about you?," he said to Bailey, reminiscent of a talk-show host. "How'd your one, yours... Your Barrier break?” Bailey listened intently. "Yeah, kids are real assholes sometimes." Bailey told him sympathetically."Mine? Nothing like that. Mine was a lot slower. Sorta realized the pet I had wasn't... exactly normal." She chuckled nervously and placed both hands on her messenger bag. "When he started growing feathers, I sorta realized I was in trouble. But if I really think about it - I think I know when I... advanced a stage?" She looked to Ganymede for confirmation and the cook nodded, gesturing for her to continue. "My neighbor in the trailer park, uh, where I live." Bailey sighed, thinking back on the day, and squeezed her satchel with white knuckles. "He always like one of those hoarders - you know? Like on AnE channel? Nasty old guy, always chased us kids away from his trailer. Everyone hated him. Anyway, this guy got away from me and he was too big at that point for me to stop. I found him in my neighbors mobile home - had to break in to get it." Bailey grimaced. "My neighbor had like... faeries? I think, locked up in bottles all over the place. I didn't know what to do so I picked Abel and booked it out of there. After that, I started seeing more and more stuff." "Starting t-... Okay, I gotta level with you Bailey. What the hell is in the bag?" He took a moment to mentally ask himself what he thought he was doing. If she had it locked up in a bag, it was probably for good reason. Ganymede agreed. "Yeah, what is rustling around in that sack of yours? I've just been watching it twitch, plum curious as to what kinda animal you've got in there. If it even is an animal..." She smiled at Bailey, knowing all too well that whatever was in that bag could be intelligent. "Also, make sure you peg your pig-shit neighbor for Faerie Trafficking, that's all kinds of illegal." A light rumble pulsed through the floor as the S.S. Sunspot's engines came to life. Captain Larz's voice filled the air. "Please stay seated, ladies and gentlemen, we'll be taking off in just a minute or two." "Well, uh, a few years ago... Abel," she gestured to her bag, "kinda fell on his trailer and bisected the thing. I think a lot of them got away. I threw a empty propane tank in there and the cops blamed it on faulty stove." She grinned triumphantly to Ganymede, glad she had done the right thing, even if by accident. She instinctively rested her hand over the flap of her messenger bag. Her pet, Abel, trilled curiously. As if excited by the prospect of being freed from confines of the satchel. "...Uh, um... Spoilers?" She laughed, eyebrows pinching contritely. Bailey was uncomfortable with exposing Abel. She had spent ten years keeping him a close guarded secret. It was hard to wipe away a decade of secrecy, even if she was slowly leaving the planets orbit bound for, hopefully, greater things. Bailey raised her band-aid covered hand up to the feather tied in her hair. It was nearly a foot long, edges tipped with gold, and played with it between her fingers. It was a gradient of exotic orange and green, flecks of red threaded through the keratin. "This is one of his feathers." Sam looked between the feather and Bailey, unimpressed, while Ganymede looked on with an intrigued expression, wholeheartedly impressed. "Psh," Sam blew. "'Spoilers'... It can't stay in there forever, Bailey. Gotta go to the bathroom at some point..." He turned to Ganymede. "Speaking of which-" He was cut off by the sudden roar of the craft's propulsion system. A low hum began to reverberate through the Sunspot's cavernous interior as the fire-less engines glowed white with power. The saucer displaced a roiling cloud of dust as its wire-thin landing gear retracted into the hull and the ring of lights dotting its edge began to slowly rotate around the perimeter. Sam tore himself away from the conversation to observe the simulated windows, on the other side of which the horizon began to sink. He gulped, fighting and just barely beating the urge to run and look over the edge. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, stifled only by a lingering fear that was slowly ebbing away. "... I guess this is it." "It is," Bailey whispered, eyes resting on the sun as it just peaked over the horizon. The expanse of pine forests and cities below slowly becoming nothing more than specks of inconsequential grid lights. She searched the horizon for a sight of home, fighting the cognitive hallmarks of severe homesickness. She thought of the beach her Mom took her to on lazy summer days or the nature hikes through valleys in the middle of forested suburbs. 'If I don't get in,' Bailey told herself, tearing her eyes away, and clutched at the glass in her hand. 'It'll be a Hell of a story... that I can't tell anyone.' Bailey inhaled sharply through her nose and threw Sam an uneasy grin. "You only need to be brave once, right?" She echoed her mantra. Words a wiry-thin old man had told a little girl with a fat-lip and a black eye. “Good mindset," said Ganymede, keeping an eye on Sam, afraid he might start to hyperventilate. "Hon, have you decided on something to eat? Food'll be good for your nerves." Sam shook his head free of his thoughts and turned back towards the worried chef. "S-sorry. Just... Do you have burgers? Something with meat and... bread, I guess... I don't know, I'm drawing a blank." Ganymede chuckled. "Bacon cheeseburger and fries it is. What about you... Bailey, right? Getting anything for yourself tonight?" She glanced at the simulated windows. "Or, today, I should say." "Just the same," Bailey's mouth salivated at the idea of food, she hadn't eaten since they left Vancouver. Her focus had been on Abel and his care. "Since it's technically my second meal." Bailey opened the flap of her back, digging her arm into the satchel without worry. She winced as she scraped against Abel's muzzle, catching on his hide, and he chirped rubbing against her hand affectionately. He was intelligent enough to understand that they were leaving. When they had cleared the Rocky Mountains, he had been frantic without of the scent of the sea and reacted to Bailey's own growing trepidation. 'Later, bud, I promise.' She silently promised, tapping her fingers against his nose. He huffed, but she found the purse. She pulled the blue, telephone box printed clip purse from her bag. "I'm not exactly sure what the currency exchange is... I just have this on me... I hope it's enough." She opened it and pulled out six platinum coins and several smaller silver ones and few gold. They were printed with a ten planet solar system with the sun at the center. "Ooh, someone got sent away with change to spare." Ganymede's eyes sparkled in the light that reflected off of the bashful girl's money. "All that's gonna take you far. What you've got there is close to seven-hundred US Dollars. Just five of the silver ones is fine, sugar." Sam recoiled in shock. "Wh-... Are you loaded or something!?," he asked incredulously, as if he'd just been betrayed. Bailey stared wide-eyed at the Ganymede's estimation. She had her phone in her hand neigh instantly, thumbing the exchange. "I-I'm not loaded! I live in a trailer park!" She reminded feverishly, putting her phone back on the table - aghast. "Either way, two bacon burger combos coming right up." Ganymede retreated back to the kitchen and pulled a half-empty bag of frozen fries from the freezer. Sam put a hand to his mouth and whispered to Bailey. "Thank god, she's using a normal appliance. If she just up and downloaded a burger I was gonna freak." Ganymede then proceeded to take a couple of tiny brown tablets from a nearby cupboard and place them into the second gadget Sam had noticed earlier, the one with the tiny mechanical arm. A few bubbles rose from the bottom of the transparent water tank to the top, and the tiny arm whirred to life, depositing atop the tablets a drop of water each. In barely any time at all the tablets had unfurled and expanded, fully transformed into hamburger buns nearly the size of a human head, sesame seeds and all. Sam's poker face was resolute, and polished as bronze. “I uh... I need to go bleed the l-... Relieve myself, 'scuse me..." Despite the Captain's orders and Ganymede's concerned hand, Sam got to his feet. She chuckled as Sam leaned to whisper at her opening her mouth to agree - only to cringe as his concern became reality His expression was inscrutable as he fled across the bay despite Ganymede's warning to remain seated. "Sam wa-" He was gone across the foyer before she had a chance to finish. She sighed heavily, concerned, and rubbed at the back of her neck."That boy gonna be okay, sugar?" The cook sighed with a light bob of her head as she dropped the fries into the scalding fryer oil. "I have no idea," Bailey answered truthfully, "I literally just met him thirty minutes ago in a forest..." She massaged her temple, feeling an on coming headache. It wasn't bred out of frustration or concern, but long drawn out fatigue. Bailey was exhausted. The ship's din quieted as people sorted themselves among the plush leather seats and others hunkered down for the long haul. Light music floated out of the speakers, crackling with dynamic feedback. It was old and country - no doubt the Captain's choice. Ganymede swept away from her for a moment, busy with other passengers, and prepping their order. This was just another day at work for the chef. This was just another day for all of them. This was so normal for them. Like a commercial flight to Honolulu or Mexico... Except they were orbit bound. Her phone, resting on the counter, buzzed with a update notice. Captain Larrz had warned them they had a small window of opportunity to make any urgent calls. With the horizon slowly ebbing away into a sky darkened with encroaching stars, Bailey knew it was closing. The network bars were slowly decreasing by the minute, a 'roaming' warning popped up in the corner. She brought up her contacts with a tap of her thumb, hovering over 'Mom.' Bailey clicked the green call icon and brought the receiver to her ear. "Heya honey!" Her Mother's voice erupted excitedly from the other end. "It's pretty late for you to be calling - early? God, what time is it even over there?" She questioned, the sounds of a fire and luau music crackling through the speaker. "Hey, Mom." Bailey hoped her voice didn't crack. "I was up early, wanted to see how you and Charlie were doing?" "We're doing great, sweetheart, you should see the view from the hotel. It's breath taking. Just like the post cards we used to look at remember?" Bailey's eyes fled plasma screens that ringed the ship, Earth slowly spreading out before her in a 1080p panoramic. "That sounds amazing, Mom. I'm so glad you're having fun. You deserve it you know." She trailed off. Bailey closed her eyes and wanted to only focus on her Mother's voice. She didn't know when she would hear it again. "Mom?" "Uhuh?" "I love you, you know that right?" "Of course, baby... What's wrong?" She fretted, the enthusiasm lost from her voice. She tsked. "I knew we shouldn't have left you by yourself - I can cancel, we come home early --" Bailey, hearing the crackle of an impending disconnect, rushed to say."I just wanted to tell you that I love you and you're the best, you know?" "Awe, honey - Just a week more and we'll be ho-- fzzt crack" Bailey stared mournfully at the 'no signal' symbol that flashed across her screen. "... But I don't know if I'll be." - Sam felt the force of the ship's ascension with every step as he trudged in the direction of the bathroom sign (three figures, the standard blue and pink man and woman, and another between them that was green with a tiny "ETC." on the head). He stumbled through the door to the men's and looked around to see if anyone else was there. When he determined that it was just him in there with only the stalls and urinals for company, he fell to his elbows on a flat space between the sinks. He ran his hands roughly across his hair, distraught, the impossibility of his situation and the forces of elevation not helping matters. "Okay... I'm not dreaming. That's... I'm not stupid enough to think this is a dream..." His breathing was heavy and ragged. He'd been walking for far too long. Hoping it would wake him up, he cranked the cold water and splashed it across his face. He met himself in the mirror with eyes that were screaming for clarity, the droplets of water streaming down his face granting the illusion that he was sweating bullets. "Yeah... Yeah, definitely not dreaming." He put his full weight on the counter, forehead resting on his crossed forearms. "Aliens exist. Magic exists. Faeries exist. Everything is real." He looked up at his scowling reflection. "So, idiot. Was it worth it? Magic School... What the hell was I thinking..." He took out his phone and tried to turn it on, forgetting it had died. "... No. No, no turning back now. Anywhere's better than there. Anywhere's better..." He took a deep breath and looked himself dead in the eye. "You did the right thing."

#applicationday #MSTTE #fiction #sci-fi #fantasy #novel #story #Sam #Bailey

Title: Application Day Prologue

September, 2016 The beaten doors of the greyhound creaked open with a hiss of well worn hydraulics. They idled on a hill as the bus driver hand-cranked the brakes. The sodium overhead lights flickered to life as people began to stiffly shift in their seats. The driver announced that they had arrived at the final rest stop before their long journey toward their terminus in the Province of Manitoba. "Take the chance to stretch your legs." He suggested before taking leave of the bus himself with a package of cigarettes. A quiet murmur broke the late night silence, waking a lone young woman curled in the back most seat. She massaged her cramped thighs as she surveyed her surroundings. There was nothing but empty asphalt and hills crested by a darkly foreboding pine forest. 'Finally,' Relief washed through her as she crawled up from her seat. She wound her way through the aisle and disembarking passengers with a firm hand on her leather messenger bag. The other trying to stifle a jaw-aching yawn. 'Jesus Christ, who knew sitting could be so exhausting...' She stepped off the bus into the barely lit road, side-stepping the driver as he returned. She was left coughing on the cloud of dust left in it's wake as it departed. She watched it go until the red tail lights disappeared around the forested bend. Alone in the middle of the abandoned highway, she couldn't fight the beginnings of dread that had started to settle in her chest. "This is insane." She ran her hands through her chestnut hair, displacing the dust that had settled there in. "No, this'll be good for us." She patted her bag affectionately, steeling herself against her own anxiety. Her cellphone pinged loudly in the forest's late night din, it's screen the only source of light to be found in the misty dark.The GPS guided her down a barely used path beaten into the side of a dried creek bed. The moon was high, but the pale light barely pierced the dense autumn canopy. Unprepared for a long hike through the wilderness, the girl struggled through the dim light. Thick bracken masked arthritic boughs on either side of her path as she picked her way carefully past. Distracted by her screen, she tripped on a root, and promptly lost her balance. She let out a startled cry as she stumbled off the path and into the riverbed. She swore several oaths into the night air, her bag began to throw a fit. The leather bulged and rumbled, a shock of colorful feathers erupted from behind the clip before she could urgently close the flap. "It's okay," she soothed, righting herself in the muck. "We're good. Almost there, promise." It was a hollow promise, one she had been repeating for the past day and a half. A disgruntled expulsion of air forced the flap up and smacked her in the face. She wrinkled her nose at it. "C'mon, don't be a dick, this sucks for me too." She managed to crawl out of the ravine before she spotted a distant light over the top of a hill. Her eyes narrowed, relieved, and sprinted into the clearing. She doubled over once free of the tree line, laughing at herself in between desperate puffs of air. "Thought I got over my fear of the dark," she giggled, half hysteric, "guess not, huh?" A low growl erupted from her bag, announcing that she was no longer alone. Her hands constricted around the strap of her satchel, white-knuckled. She snapped straight, eyes frantically searching the meadow. "Anyone there? - The moon was bright enough that cloudless night to cast the shadow of a young man walking down an abandoned road. He was somewhat frightened and more than a little lost, his GPS having perished hours ago with the battery of his phone. He looked to the sky, mindful of the tall, dry grass that bordered the sides of the cracked asphalt; he'd just passed through one of his hometown's poorer neighborhoods, and the dense vegetation served as an invitation for a late-night mugging. He squinted at the stars. Three years of scouts and I still can't figure out which one is supposed to be 'North'... The boy took a deep breath and continued tentatively, following faint sounds in the distance that he'd assumed (hoped) were sounds of life, civilization. Another fifteen minutes of walking astride the cool night's breeze revealed a dilapidated gas station at the end of a road that nature had reclaimed. A set of wind chimes sang forlornly, hung and left to rust on a metal hook above the pumps, long drained of fuel. The road's lone inhabitant shrugged his backpack from his shoulders and reached inside to produce a bottle of Fountain Dew, and drank heavily. He screwed the cap back on when he was done whilst he eyed the forest that broke the road with utter disdain. ‘I'm starting to think this may have been an elaborate prank... A school out in the middle of nowhere is one thing. This is... This is just wrong. I'll take seeing things and the rare exploding candy bar over lime disease and a butt full of blackberry thorns any day...’ The boy swung his bag back over his shoulder and weighed his options. After several minutes of fighting with himself, he let out a guttural sigh and trudged forward, bidding the gas station a sarcastic good-bye and breaking through the first layer of bug-strewn foliage. "Ah-... Dammit!" The boy swore and spat as he stumbled into yet another spider web, complete with spider, frantically waving his hands at the air in front of his face. He spun in a vague circle, paused, then promptly saw stars as he smashed the bridge of his nose with the base of his palm. He didn't draw blood, but had he known that he completely missed the spider and merely knocked it onto his leg, he may have given up on his trek right then and there. The boy continued to wade through the waist-deep weeds and grass, checking his bare arms constantly for ticks until he could see moonlight through the trees. He smiled earnestly and quickened his pace, only to launch face-first into yet another web, and consequently lose his mind. He thrashed about violently, blind with rage and spider silk before accidentally tumbling out the other side of the forest onto crisp, cool grass. He looked up, surprised at the treeline's abrupt ending. As he stood back up, he could see a diffused, bluish light hovering above a tree-less hill. ‘Oh my God, finally,’ he thought, relieved. ‘Must be the school building up there. Thought I was gonna be out here forever...’ He retrieved a piece of watermelon bubblegum from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. When the silence was broken but a wary call, he looked around startled. “H-Hello?” He squinted in the dark, finding the vaguely human shape cautiously approaching him from the treeline. He was able to tell she was a girl, but the dark stripped her features from her. He began to wander toward her. “Hi, uh, are you from around here? Is this where the uh... ‘School’, is?” The girl hovered an arm’s length from him, her brow pinched. “Damn, I was kinda hoping you might be...” At the mention of the school, she perked up albeit confused. “Why... would you think the schools is up there?” She pointed towards the knoll. He shrugged as he came closer. “Iunno.’ Something is making light up there.” From what little could be seen of the boy in the dark, one could make out his over-sized novelty t-shirt stamped proud on the front with an Everlasting Gobstopper. His jeans, ripped at the knees and at the hems, were stuck with brambles. Above a set of thing eyebrows and a distinct, beak-like nose sat a man of wavy, platinum blonde hair. “I’d check to see how close we are to the address but...” He pulled out his cellphone from his back pocket. “Dead as heck,” he chuckled halfheartedly. “Mine’s still going, thank-god. I’d die without this thing.” She turned the screen toward him, tapping her forefinger against the green arrow that denoted the address and it’s location. “I guess this is it - I’m Bailey, by the way.” She introduced. Bailey brushed her dark chestnut hair behind her ear, show casing the multitude of piercings that ringed the curve. A feather was braided into her curls. It was decorated with what looked to be Aztec inspired beads and metal rings. Her wrists chimed with metal bangles that clashed together as she tucked her cell away in her sweater pocket. “Samu-... Sam.” He returned. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” She greeted amicably. After eighteen hours on a cramped bus, she was glad for company. Bailey wrapped her hand around the strap of her bag, pulling the coarse material away from her neck to show it had worn a red welt into her shoulder. “I guess we’re gonna be schoolmates,” he said, attempting kindness and began up the hill. “Gum?” He offered her the end of a stick of green packaging labeled. ‘Bubba Hubba.’ “Hopefully we might be,” Bailey started up the slow after him, graciously taking the block of gum. “I’m scheduled for my ‘application assessment’ today. Er well, tonight. What about you?” “Oh, that’s right,” he scratched his neck, “we’re not actually in yet, heh...” There was a awkward pause as they walked. “Um, so uh... This might sound weird, but uh... have you been seeing, strange things? Like... Where there used to be nothing, or something else?” His eyes darted between Bailey and her bag, which he could swear was periodically moving. “Strange things?” Bailey contemplated. “Well, yeah, of course. For awhile now -- that’s how I found out about the school. Fireflies in the park were advertising it.” She explained conversationally. “Did you just start or something?” She trailed off, uncertain. “Er, sorry if that is rude. Besides the recruiting agent I spoke to on the phone - I haven’t really met anyone else that could see the weird stuff too.” Bailey felt her bag wriggle impatiently against her thigh. She none-too-gently urged it with her knee, praying Sam hadn’t caught sight of it. Sam exhaled through his nose. “No, you’re not being rude. I’m just glad there’s someone else seeing stuff. I didn’t even get to speak to an agent. I was flipping through channels late one night, came across a channel that said something like... ‘If you can see this, we can help. Come to such and such address..’ Some letters, then it was gone. Like nothing happened.” He fixed his bag on his shoulder. “I figured I needed answers so... I just left.” In the wake of his confession, Same muttered. “So... What was the first thing you saw? Mine was a dog with three heads.” He admitted playfully. “You just up and left?!” Bailey asked incredulously, visibly taken back. “Like, legit - you didn’t look it up or anything!?” She had spent months researching before she even conceived the notion of leaving home. He opened his mouth, at first to tell her off, but then thought better of it. “Look, anything was better than where I was.” He snorted. “My so called ‘guardians’ probably don’t even know I’m gone yet. Like they’d even care.” He sneered at nothing before giving a light shake of his head. “S-sorry, TMI. Basically, I wanted to know what’s wrong with my head. I already know what’s wrong with everything else.” He threw another block of chewing gum in his mouth, his current piece already growing stale. “Sorry... I didn’t.” She muttered apologetically. “My own parents are on vacation in Cuba. They don’t know I’m here either. I, uh, never traveled this far on my own before.” Bailey clutched self-consciously at her messenger bag, her hand barely having left it since she had gotten on the greyhound hours ago. “This far? Where are you from?” He asked, thin brow raised. “Vancouver,” she supplied, “you?” “Med Hat,” he said, suddenly distracted by the light ahead of them. “Well, here we are. Watch it just be some shack run by a hobo --” As the two crested the hill, Sam's eyes flew wide open. What was once a snarky leer of doubt was now a bewildered stare of disbelief. A group of people, all shapes and sizes - many beyond the normal scope of the phrase - stood illuminated by the bright, bluish-white light emanating from the open hatch of a titanic flying saucer. Seemingly a tin plate run amok from an old black-and-white horror movie, it - somehow - propped itself up upon four wire-thin legs made of the same silvery-blue material that composed the majority of the craft. Pulsating lights encircled the rim and a faint hum filled the area. The air smelled like lightning. Sam beheld the ground the saucer had landed on. It was etched with intricate designs that folded out into a grander image that couldn't be seen from the ground, seemingly burned into the earth by concentrated heat. His bag slipped from his shoulders and onto the ground. "... E-excuse my French but... What the... Fourchette!?" Bailey had expected a lot of things when she left home on a dilapidated bus bound for the middle of nowhere. This was not one of them. "It... It's so...," she breathed, taking in the incredible sight before them both in the hollow of the hill. "Stereo-typical." Sam looked to her. Then back to the craft. Then back to her. "St-... STEREOTYPICAL!?," he cried. "Stereo-... Lady, there is an honest to Christ space ship sitting right over there and... Stereoty- HOW, how many space ships have you seen!? Why is there a space ship!?" Sam's uncontrolled blathering turned a few heads in their direction. A shorter gentleman with a large, almond-shaped head beckoned them over. "Hey! If you're with the school you better hurry! We're leaving early!" "Whuh... Seriously?" He grabbed his head on both sides. "S-seriously...?" The corners of Bailey's mouth turned up in a thrilled smile. Her hand tightened around her strap as she braced her free hand against the bag to hold it fast to her thigh. "Look, Sam, I don't know what you got going on - but you coming, or not? Because man - That is a spaceship and it's leaving." "I... Hold on... I, I need to be sure this is what I want..." Visions of his life in foster care flicked by like a slideshow in his head, seven arduous years of boredom, lies and neglect. Five homes later, they were still telling him the next one would be better. No more. "Heh... What am I talking about, of course it is. Come on!" He picked up his bag and ran for it, subconsciously taking Bailey's hand and dragging her along. Those under the saucer boarded it via the opening in the bottom, walking single file into the light below and vanishing in a vertical column of light. The man with the big head - as well as grey skin and enormous black eyes on closer inspection - beckoned with a large, three-fingered hand. "Come on, one at a time. HURRY UP OVER THERE!" “Coming! We’re coming!” Bailey hollered over the engine with an exhilarated laugh. She let herself be dragged after Sam as they bolted across the field together. She couldn't stop smiling, clutching her bag to her chest as she ran harder than she had ever run in her life. ‘I’m really doing this.’ After three months of planning, agonizing over it, the hours spent researching, and far too many close calls – she was here. And, as Sam disappeared into the beam, Bailey didn't look back. #Welcome to Application Day

#fantasy #fiction #applicationday #MSTTE #Sam #Bailey #story

Title: Hello, My Name Is

December 21, 2015 It is a thousand strings that bled molten lava and peeled like old paint. It flakes good and reeks of ozone. The pieces fall like snowflakes, disappearing before they ever touch the tiled floor below. Each thread pulsed and filled the dim room with a auric light. The web stretches out infinitely from the center and reaches for places that she knows she will never see herself. They whisper incoherently, too many voices speak in unison but none of them say the same thing. It is chaotic, but strangely beautiful. It is wrapped so delicately in the concept of what is and what isn’t that a simple touch might shatter reality and make the impossible tangible. She wonders, often, if this is just a dream. She is not sure that she’s ever had a dream. They tell her that it is a hallucination, but it doesn’t seem right to call it that. It's like a heartbeat. But, they demand she treat it more like something cancerous. A parasite. A sickness. Treat it like a disease, they say, and she obeyed in the vain hope that one day the might let her go if she does. Sometimes, she listens to the strings instead. The words echo in a hundred different ways in several thousand different circumstances vying for their right to be real. Voices drift through her mind in a chorus derived of meaning and intent. Each new iteration of a phrase crafted a new string made of liquid light. It's so gorgeous. She has learned to hate it. It is the reason she is not normal. She latched to that hate like a man to flotsam in a storm because it was the only way for her to stay a float. More often than sometimes, she wondered what it might be like to drown. Tentatively, she reached for the threads above her. She thought of how remarkably like a spider’s web it is. The strings decay beneath her fingers, almost fearing her touch. They wither away to birth another that pulses vibrantly when her skin brushed past. She plucked the pads of her fingers across them like a violinist and they sing. She closed her eyes and she let herself see. She see’s a boy. Then the man he becomes. He comforts his lover while she cries. He lies on his death bed. His grave, it is marbled and dusted over. No one visits. His children despised him for his drinking. A young couple whole tell the other they mean the whole world to each other. Yet, they are strangers when their hands wrinkle and their children have grown. She thinks, then, that life is sad. And so very, very short. She doesn’t want to stop seeing. It is like a drug and she wanted to indulge. She knew she couldn’t. She knew it wasn’t real. She knows it is. ‘I am sick,’ she told herself sternly. No, I’m not. The girl knows she is supposed to fight this. The pills are there to make this stop. To make it go away and let her go home. She just wanted to be normal.

‘Please, God, let me be normal again.’ She's standing in the hallway begging -- Nothing but static, like a broken television -- To let her change classes. She's walking through a park in autumn with her Dad and it's cold. He smiles sadly -- She begs her parents not to send her to the asylum. She'll get better -- Please, God, don't make me go. She's a child cowering from -- Darling, you owe me something -- Behind -- Hello, miss, my name is... She's laughing at -- lyre music and a child's laugh -- because he's flustered. She didn't know someone like that could emote. They swirl together, shimmering visions of probabilities and most definitely nots. It is painful to try to keep them together. The disjointed scenes fall undecided between her fingers like sand from a broken hourglass. It feels wrong and she wonders if her medication is working. She needed to stop. She knows how, but something subconscious screams for her not to. The gentle voices turns ugly and angry when she curls her fingers sharply. The strings are pulled so taunt they snap and disappear. Reality becomes a bit more real as she tries to collect herself. She lays her hands limply in her lap, taking steady breaths and counts down from ten. She noticed someone standing in front of her. Rationally she knows he is not real. He can't be. She is in her room, her roommate is asleep, and no one can visit this late. Visiting hour ended when the sun went down. It's a hallucination. She has to ignore it. He smiles so kindly, though, and it is beyond honest. She recognizes him from the visions. She was talking to him. Her Father had been talking to him. Why can't she remember is name? She knew it then. What was it? Wait, no, she's never met this man before. He isn't a man. Yes... he is... isn't he? He's not real. She can not let herself believe he is. He is impossible, just as the web. His skin lacks pigment, his eyes reflected the night sky. He raises his gloved hand in a curt, friendly wave. He doesn't wave. "I am from -- She's so glad to finally be out of the hospital... He's not smiling. "I'm -- static --" He leans forward, hand extended as if to help her up. It is overwhelming, but she curled her legs beneath her and planted her hands on the floor. He leans forward, hand extended as if to help her up. "Hello," He greets. His accent is foreign and a touch flamboyant "I'm Cottonhelm"