Lost

October is more like the action of injection than a transition in Florida. We don't see the leaves change and we don't really put on our jackets until late November. When the cold hits, it's a sudden bone chill feeling that the holidays are here and the year is about to end. Inside me though, it feels like magic is brewing. A cauldron of costumes, goose eggs, voodoo dolls, sweet potatoes, and glitter. I Stir-stir-stir with a thick white bone of a fairy's back.

Why is it that everything starts to feel like it's coming to life, right when it's dying away?

A sudden rush of stories come washing over my notebooks and computer screen. Split-splat, split-splat, the words

dribble into the white ocean, feeding the fishy ideas that maybe this story will be good. It's more than just writing a story

though. Around November my family makes frequent trips north to Georgia and New York to visit relatives for the holidays.

I indulge my mind in World of Warcraft, Neil Gaiman books, old Sci-Fi movies like Blade Runner, the woods, Starbucks,

and cozy nooks of my mind along the way:

In the forest a lion rampages through, burrowing down the pine trees with a warrior's soul on his back. In the

warrior's left hand he holds a light-saber to help light the way and keep the snarling beasts at bay. The cackle of a witch

echoes from the stars, a signal that has the lion and warrior on edge. Can they get through the woods in time?

The trees rattle together when the wind-chills tumble through from the North. The witch will stop at nothing to

keep the soldiers from approaching the Star-Child. It was said to the warrior that the child was once human until

the witch had ripped her body from every limb and sowed her soul into a doll's knapsack skin. The lion's roar shakes

the vultures from their perch at the very thought of this.

Just ahead the warrior can see a landscape of stars, which means that the wood is coming to an end. He grips

his light-saber in ready for whatever danger comes their way. And a danger is coming.

Time To Pretend

By Gregory Apple

My fingers drip streaks of sky blue liquid across the canvas of a table top and then begin to paint suds over the crayon and ketchup stains. I unearth a field of blue flowers by slipping the grains of salt into my palm by the edge of the table. A kid must have drawn them beneath the plate when their parents weren't watching. Clever. I put my nose to the table to breathe in the tiny flakes of blue wax: elementary, woods, blood, dream catchers, adopti

on, love, a brother, and imagination.

When I was little I used to carry around notebooks and multi-colored pens. Each color would represent a different character I drew. Pink would often represent evil. Red would be brave like my brother. Green and blue would be friends forever. And brown... brown would be the color of love. I would draw stories of princesses, Digimon tamers, friends I wish I had, boys I wanted to fall in love with, challenges I would put my real friends through, myths and games I made up, and of course me.

I would be the coolest character of course. I would wear maybe five belts and a pair of goggles like the cool anime kids did on TV. Sometimes I would be an evil android out to destroy the world, a powerful Digimon Tamer that could defeat any opponent, a princess with magical powers but horribly in distress; I could be the ocean, I could control meteors in space, grow wicked cool jelly beans, and even create worlds of blue flowers.

My fingers dance over the picture one last time before I decide to wipe the table and get on with my job. The wax petals crumble the moment my rag washes over them and I thank the little kid who drew them in silence.

Later tonight I walk back over to the same table before getting ready to leave. The entire night after finding the picture I kept thinking about the kid that might have drawn it. I guess I just feel close to them in some really weird way. It's like finding a friend ten years too late. I smile a little and then... a brilliant beyond brilliant idea comes! I whip my head beneath the booth and look to see if they might have...

And YES! They have!

A field of waxy blue flowers completely take over the underside of the table!