Young Writers Society

You are a willing participant in a sleep-aid drug trial. Maybe you did it for the money, a warm bed to sleep in, or maybe you did it because you're in desperate need of some consistent sleep. Your reasons can stick with you. You're getting paid, and you're following the rules. That's all that matters.

You are one of four who are confined to small living quarters for a total of two weeks. You have wifi and internet access, and you have cell-phone coverage. You can even work remotely if that option is available to you in your life. But one thing you cannot do is leave your designated living quarters. You're locked in.

You signed a long, long contract before agreeing to be a part of the testing, and you admittedly skipped over some of the legal jargon. There was something in there about side effects being unknown, but you didn't think much of it. That's why they were doing a trial. That's why you were there. They're required to put that in there for legal reasons, right? What's the worst that could happen?

Jessica Ray by @soundofmind
Clyde Silverstein by @sheyren
Noah T. Kent by @magebird
Tarana Conner by @Zenith
Rachel Chase by @Elinor

I was in some kind of summer home, and it was not a place I have been to before. There were big bay windows that looked out to a backyard with a field of grass. Tall, willowing trees hung over the sides of the wooden fence, creating a wall of green that stretched up to the bright blue midday sky. The sun was shining bright and it came in at a sharp angle, only painting the floor closest to the window in its light, leaving everything else in its shade.

There was a piano by the window with golden pedals and a wooden frame. My mother sat in front of it, and I remember very clearly she was wearing a long, flowing skirt patterned with orange and pink. The kind of thing she always tried to get me to wear with a straw hat, like some kind of southern belle. She had a neutral top that covered down to her elbows, and her hair was pinned up in a bun. For a while, it looked like she was playing something, but there was no sound coming out of the piano.

I thought maybe the piano was broken, so I walked up to her and put my hand on her back, and then I realized she wasn't playing at all. She was just sitting there, but I could've sworn I'd seen her fingers moving earlier. I felt slightly unsettled. Neither of us had exchanged words yet, but somehow I just knew that something was wrong.

I couldn't think of what to say. For some reason, words were beyond me and my mouth was clamped shut. My mother didn't look at me, she just kept staring at the piano.

I heard a voice come from the other side of the room. I realized I was in a living room. There was a rug, and the room was furnished in a sort of cottage-comfort style. There were potted plants, here and there. All dark green.

"She didn't take her vitamins," a doctor said, standing in the middle of the room in a white lab coat. He looked out of place. He had dark hair that was greying at his temples.

That's silly, I thought. Vitamins wouldn't make or break you if you didn't take them one day, right? And she could still take them now.

"Take her out back," the doctor said. I didn't know why I understood that it had to be done, but I did. I put my arm under my mother's and helped lift her from the piano bench. She was a little hunched over like she was too weak to straighten up. I took her to the screen doors by the bay window and slid them open. We stepped out into the light.

"I want to go home," she told me like a complaint. Somehow I knew that we were far from home, on some kind of vacation.

I can't remember what I said back to her, only that it was muttered and quiet. I didn't feel like dealing with her complaint.

When we got out into the grass my mother took off her sandals and let out a long sigh.

Then the scene skipped.

We were at a dock. Whispy clouds rolled in the sky with a strong wind and I could smell the salt of the ocean in the air. There was a long ramp that led up into a massive white cruise ship, and there was live music playing in the background - I could not tell you where it was coming from, only that it blew at us in the wind. I can't remember the song, but the style had a similar feeling to some of the Frank Sinatra CDs my parents would play around Christmastime as a kid.

My mother was with me again, but this time she looked significantly younger, like how she did when I was a child. Her hair was down and dark and curly, and she was wearing one of those detective-type jackets that I can't remember what they're called. She had a hat that matched, and she had a pinched, determined look on her face.

I was wearing a yellow summer dress, and I felt out of place with the cool breeze and my shoulders showing. I wished I had a jacket, and I felt self-conscious about how the wind would pick up the skirt of my dress. Fortunately, it was long and went to my ankles, but it hugged my body with the wind.

A tall man with a face shadowed walked up and offered my mother his hand. Something about him felt inhuman and there was a hint of danger in his presence, but my mother took his hand with a dead-set determination that I wasn't sure if I should question it. As their hands met he led her to the ramp leading into the cruise ship and glanced back at me.

Chills ran down my back. Suddenly I knew the woman in the jacket was not my mother, and the man was not human, though he appeared to be. His eyes met mine for a solid second and at that moment, I realized that everyone on the dock was staring at me.

Everyone was wearing suits and jackets. I stuck out in my bright yellow, and at that moment, I did not feel safe. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I froze, afraid to look behind me. The hand felt deathly cold.

"Let her go," he said. I do not know who he was, nor what he meant, but something about it resonated with me and made me want to run and hide. But I felt trapped.

Then I woke up.

My dream started with me dying.

I don’t remember what led up to the trigger being pulled - I just remember the gunshot. Then I found myself standing in a vast hallway that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. It felt old and forgotten, with its walls made out of moss-covered stone. The only light in the hallway was a collection of flaming torches. For a moment, when I glanced at the walls, I thought I could see doors in place of the torches. But once I started staring at them too long, the hallway returned to its convoluted sense of normal.

I didn’t really think before I started walking; my suddenly bare feet just began to move on their own. The stones were cold underneath my feet. I couldn’t feel it - I never can feel things in my dreams - but my dream self just knew that I wanted to get somewhere with a nice, warm carpet. Maybe shoes, even.

The hallway came to an abrupt end.

I stared up at two massive doors. It was like I was Jack in Jack and the Beanstalk, ready to slip into a land of giants. I tried to open the doors, but I was too weak to. I thought, for a moment, that if I wasn’t alone, I would have been able to open the doors.

I was about to sit down before them and admit defeat when they suddenly started to open inwards.

There was a woman inside. She looked like she could have been my size, but also felt distinctively taller. She didn’t have to say her name for me to know who she was. It was just something I innately knew. She was the goddess of death, and this was her home. I wasn’t sad. Part of me had expected this. But it was strange, being led into a great banquet hall.

I could barely reach halfway up the table’s legs when I stretched my hands up as far as I could and stood on the very tips of my toes. Before I could think too long on how tall the goddess had to be when the other gods were visiting, she whisked me off to the kitchen. The kitchen was much smaller than the banquet hall was; it looked almost like the little kitchen I have in my apartment.

She told me others were coming to visit, and that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to finish preparing for their arrival in time. She told me The Archer was coming, too. It was a title, not a way of describing him. She said The Archer was different from the others - while most were great gods, he was a ghost like me. The goddess seemed lonely; I knew she was just telling me her troubles because she needed someone to talk to. She wasn’t asking for my help.

But I still offered it.

It was fun, preparing for the great feast. We made an absolutely massive roast of some kind of bird that was even bigger than I was. We cooked a cake even bigger than the ones that my dad always bakes for his company’s parties. We made a homemade water tower of lemonade, squeezed by hand just like my mom had taught me to do as a kid.

Then the feast began.

The goddess, who must have really enjoyed my company, offered for me to attend it. I didn’t look all that important wearing my regular old clothes; I was worried they’d realize I wasn’t supposed to be there. Before I could turn down the offer, the goddess led me to a closet that didn’t seem to ever end. And when I reached my hands into it, imagining what kind of clothes a powerful god or notable ghost might have worn, I grabbed onto clothes that felt just right.

I took off the jacket Reid gave me years ago, ready to change into my new clothes. Then the dream shifted. I was back in the banquet hall again, but everything was so much smaller. The guests had all arrived by then. The goddess of death, unsurprisingly, was at the head of the table. On one side of her was me. On the other side of her was a man I could have sworn I had seen before.

He felt different than the others. I just knew he was The Archer that the goddess had mentioned. There was no reason for him not to be. He was silent as he ate his meal and drank his lemonade. I was silent, too, though it was for an entirely different reason. I felt uncomfortable, sitting there at the table with all of the guests. The plain cloak I had picked hid my regular old clothes, and the simplistic circlet in my hair felt as flimsy as the paper crowns Reid and I had gotten from Burger King the first day we met.

Then the goddess turned to me.

“I forgot to grab the cake,” she said. “The other gods won’t let me leave - can you grab it for me?”

I protested. I couldn’t carry the cake on my own. It was too big for me to.

“Maybe you could bring a friend,” she suggested.

I shook my head again. She was my only friend here. I didn’t have anyone else.

She gestured over at The Archer, who was once again drinking from his wooden mug of lemonade. I tried to argue against her decision, but The Archer was already wordlessly rising from his chair. Biting back the urge to groan in frustration - not wanting to disappoint the goddess, but also wishing she hadn’t assumed the man who hadn’t even looked in my direction wanted to spend time with me - I joined him.

We suddenly found ourselves in the kitchen.

The Archer was already making a move for the cake, even though I didn’t remember hearing the goddess ever say where we had left it.

The torch lights of the banquet hall weren’t present anymore; the room was lit by modern LEDs in the ceiling. And when The Archer turned his back to me, hair lit by the LEDs and not by torches, I realized my eyes had been playing tricks on me. He wasn’t a redhead. He had familiar, mousy brown hair. And when he turned, it was a pair of familiar green eyes that looked out from behind his scarlet masquerade mask.

I knew a lot of things, then. My dream started showing me the other side to the story - the side I hadn’t seen when dreaming of endless halls and cooking sessions with a goddess who, when I looked at her long enough, reminded me a little too much of my mom. I saw my best friend finding out I was dead. I saw him decide that he wanted to find out what had happened to me. He never did.

Instead, he died too - a bullet wound to a head instead of the bullet wound I had in my heart.

He didn’t remember anything. I saw him wandering through the halls through his eyes, time twisting and turning so he could end up in the afterlife before me. I saw the goddess greeting him with a gentle but sad expression. I saw him go through the closet and pick clothes that didn’t really mean anything to him, and I saw him come to the banquet at her request - an uncharacteristically blank expression on his face.

The Archer grabbed the cake.

So I grabbed him.

Wounds that hadn’t been there before were suddenly revealed and healed. I felt the hole in my heart close. The wound previously hidden underneath The Archer’s seemingly red curls healed, too.

The cake fell to the floor as Reid turned and pulled me into a tight hug.

I wasted no time in returning the hug - I couldn’t believe that he was really there with me.

The cake was a mess of frosting and crumbs on the ground now, but something told me that the goddess of death wouldn’t mind.

That was when I woke up.

I dreamt of Lacey. I supposed we were in San Fransisco, except nothing was quite right. It was some kind of steampunk version of San Fransisco, but of course, I didn't question it then. Well, I think I'm getting ahead of myself. I didn't see Lacey and I right away. Justin and I were walking along the pier.

I wasn't sure what time of day it was, but the sky was orange with streaks of pink and there was no one else. Not a soul. Justin pulled me close, and I couldn't help think it was like the scene in La La Land where Ryan Gosling was singing on the pier. Then, I told Justin I was pregnant. There was something nonchalant about it too that feels mocking now that I'm awake.

That was when we saw Lacey. She looked like a 1950s princess. Her hair was cut to her chin and curled, and she was dressed in a white silk gown with pink floral embroidery and sparkling silver heels. She was gazing out the water.

"I have to talk to Lacey," I told Justin. "She's here."

Just didn't want me to go. He wanted us to stay together on the pier. I told him we could both go and talk to Lacey, but he told me to stay. Still, I went free and walked over to my sister.

"Lacey," I said.

She didn't look at me.

"Lacey," I repeated.

She looked at me now, except something was wrong. Her irises were red. Like she was a vampire. I took a deep breath.

"You cut your hair," I said.

"I cut my hair," Lacey replied. "So what?"

It had been nine months since we'd last even texted, since she blocked me and made her instagram private, and I still wasn't sure what I'd done to upset her. "Come home," I pleaded.

"I am home," she said nonchalantly.

Then I woke up. Well, obviously, I'm awake now, writing this all down. I can't shake the feeling that Lacey's in trouble.

I was on the Arcane Empress. That name makes an appearance in a lot of my dreams, though what it refers to is never the same. This time, she was a starship bound for another star system. I was never informed of the destination in the dream, but I know that it was the Alpha Centauri system. The three thousand of us riding the Arcane Empress were mankind’s first attempt at interstellar colonization.

The trip would take nearly twenty-eight years, so us colonists would remain in cryostasis the entire time. Crew members with essential roles would remain on duty for several months at a time, switching out with another of the same role to rest in cryostasis. Only the captain would remain awake for the entire journey, as her input was near-constantly necessary. She was already 54. I can’t imagine being stuck in a position like that, knowing that by the time you finally arrived at humankind’s new home, you’d be too old to really enjoy it.

Some of us were looking for a new future. Others were criminals. A few of us were paid a lot, though monetary value is kinda lost once you leave Earth. Yet even fewer of us just liked the prospect of an adventure. I think I was one of them, but I don’t really remember. But of course, I was to be in stasis the entire journey, since my expertise (or lack thereof, unless Captain Morgan needed a bagpipe bard) was unneeded.

My cryopod malfunctioned, though. I was awake, but still locked into the chamber where I should have been sound asleep. An AI monitored each cryopod individually, to ensure that the constantly fluctuating needs of the human body were met to maintain homeostasis. Mine seemed to be convinced that all was in order with my pod, even if it wasn’t. As such, none of the cryopod maintenance crew on duty were alerted to my situation.

During cryostasis, it’s the AI monitors will provide your mind with images from your memory. Cryodreams, I somehow knew they were called. My AI monitor was still feeding me images, even as I layed there in the cold pod, and I struggled to focus on them so I wouldn’t recall the pain of my appendages freezing slowly. Frostbite was setting in, but my mind could ignore the situation when it instead was distracted by my childhood memories.

It brought me to that beach in Nova Scotia Mom and I went to every summer. We walked down the shore every night as the sun was setting, and the night the AI gave me was no exception. A storm was brewing out on the horizon, but we ignored it. It was off a ways, and we were heading back to the cabin anyways. When we arrived at the cabin, though, it was engulfed in flames. I think this was where the AI interpreted my memories wrong. The first home I lived in burnt down, not the summer cabin we went to. But I don’t know if the “me” in the dream shared this experience, or just how deep my memory confusion went. Maybe the AI read my memories right, and my own mind recalled things wrong when building this dream.

I panicked. The house was on fire, and suddenly the storm was closer than it should have been, Winds kicked up, and I heard thunder out over the ocean above the sound of the crashing waves. I looked to Mom, but she was gone. The house, too, was gone, and my legs froze. Not the type of freezing you experience from fear, mind you. They were cold. It made me remember the cryopod
I was trapped in. I think I asked why it hadn’t yet sent for maintenance. Its voice was low, and uncomfortably human.

“Home is where the heart is. Home is where the heart is. Home is where the heart is.” Over and over, it chanted this frustrating phrase, and my mind tried to wander off into another memory. But the AI no longer offered me that restitution. I screamed, but the cryopods are soundproof. “Home is where the heart is. Home is where the heart is.” I began to claw at the walls of the chamber, kicking at where I presumed the door was. I had no luck in freeing myself.

But it didn’t matter, because then I awoke.

I was in a big room made of glass. Light glinted off the walls and the ceiling, even the floor, everything around me. But I didn’t feel alone. I was vaguely aware of the reflections following me around as I inspected my vicinity. Strangely, there was no shadow. A part of my mind marveled at the impossibility of it- the physics that dictates the presence of millions of reflections but not a single shadow. My attention was soon caught by something in the center of the room. I walked towards it slowly, unsure if it was already there from the beginning. Coming closer, I realized it was a backpack. But it was faintly glowing as if made of some strange metal. The backpack’s bluish hue slightly resembled the glass pedestal on which it was kept. I had the sudden desire to pick it up, even though the rational half was screaming bad idea.

“Do you want to fly?”

I turned around but there was no one. There was something about this voice, it almost had a nostalgic undercurrent to it. Like hearing the voice of the singer whose songs you have had heard millions of times before, only this time in some everyday place like a cafe or in school talking about something mundane. You look around and it’s gone.

Shrugging it off, I focused my attention back to the weird looking gadget. From the looks of everything, that’s what it has to be.

"The first of its kind- a hydrogen peroxide fueled jet pack."

I looked up to see my parents smiling at me. Never mind that this place had no doors or windows. I half-heartedly wondered if my parents would follow me even to hell and then lecture on the latest scientific discovery.

“Your mother and I, we have been working on it. It has yet to have its first trial run. Here, come with us”

Saying so my father picked up the gadget and pressed a switch on the side of the pedestal. The glass wall right in front of us parted to reveal a clear sky. There was no barrier at the edge. Looking down, I found the ground was miles away from us. My feet stepped back on its own accord before my acrophobic self could feel dizzy and fall over. Someone held me from behind.

“Are you ready Tara?”

Something about this whole thing seemed off.

“You are going to be the first human to fly.”

I opened my mouth in protest, but by then they have already slipped my arms into the jet pack.

“Please…. Don’t……I don’t know how to….”

I never got the chance to finish my sentence. There was a slight nudge and the next thing I know; I was diving headfirst towards the ground. I tried to reach back and push a switch or something, anything that would kick start it. But it was gone. There was nothing on my shoulders. No futuristic jet pack, just a human heading towards her death.

I woke up drenched in sweat.

Jess couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so soundly, and so deeply. When she woke up, it was like a heavy weight had been lifted off. She felt lighter. Rested. Refreshed. If this was how she felt day one, she could only imagine what she would feel like after a week. Her dream, of course, had left a strange sort of anxiety stirring in her stomach, but she supposed vivid dreams were a natural result from finally getting some REM sleep that lasted longer than a few minutes (she was exaggerating a little, but fitful seemed like too tame a word to describe her most recent sleeping patterns).

Once the dream log was out of the way, she took her time getting ready. With nowhere to go and nowhere to be, she spent time picking out her clothes, braiding her hair behind her head, and tidying herself up in the bathroom. She'd noticed a few of the others were already up by the open doors in the hall, but made a beeline for her bathroom. As rested as she felt, she needed a moment to get ready.

She wasn't sure what life was going to look like with a group of strangers for two weeks. Especially when most of them were a good two decades younger than her. It wasn't that she didn't think she'd enjoy their company, she just knew they were at a very different place in life than her.

Jess paused to look in the mirror after she'd brushed her teeth and put on some mascara. She tried to imagine what she'd look like in that yellow dress from her dream, but couldn't seem to conjure up a third person view that didn't make her look frumpy and awkward. She was glad to be in a loose, flowing top that hid most of her body in drapery, and plain jeans that didn't draw too much attention to anything.

With a sigh, she headed out to the kitchen to make some tea.




Rachel had slept so soundly, she had almost forgotten about the dream. It had been nice to sleep without distractions. Without anxiety about her book, without fighting with Justin. Without worrying about having to talk her father off the ledge about what it was her brother or sister had done this time.

As soon as she finished the dream journal, She dressed in plain black jeans. A light blue button-down. Brown flip flops. Her go-to lounging around outfit. She pulled her hair back with her favorite soft multicolored headband and took a moment to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She took a deep breath. No makeup today. She didn't like wearing it anyhow.

As she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, she thought about Lacey and how Lacey had blocked her on Instagram for seemingly no reason and wasn't responding to any of her texts. She just hoped her sister was all right.

Even though she felt bad about it, she was also happy to have some time away from her husband. He'd been getting on nerves a lot lately. The trouble they were having just to conceive a child had definitely put a strain on their marriage. Rachel had been trying to tell him she was open to adoption, but the stress had prevented them from having a serious conversation about it. She wasn't in any rush to call him, but she would as soon as she had the chance.

She walked into the kitchen and started making a pot of coffee. She wasn't that hungry but got out toast and jam.

As she waited for her breakfast to be ready, she saw someone else was there, pouring water into the teapot.

"Morning," Rachel said to the woman.

"Good morning," she said, flashing Rachel a grin. "I don't think we've been introduced yet. I'm Jess."

"Rachel," she replied extending her hand.

Jess shook it firmly and smiled. "So, how was your first night?"

"It was all right," Rachel said. "You?"

"Oh, I haven't slept that well in ages," Jess said as she set the teapot on the burner.

"I can't do just tea in the morning," Rachel said in a casual attempt to change the subject. She wasn't in the mood to talk about her dream, not now, not with someone she had only just met. "I need coffee."

Jess chuckled. "I do coffee sometimes when I work. But caffeine tends to keep me buzzed for a long time. Harder to sleep. Among other things. Hence, me being here."

"I feel that," Rachel replied. "I'm trying to write this book, and I've been stuck on the same chapter for half a year."

Jess's eyes lit up. "Oh? You're working on a book? What's it about?"

"Theodore Roosevelt," Rachel said. "Teddy's always been my favorite president." She always felt weird telling people about the book. Writing about a long-dead president wasn't exactly hot, but it was important to her and maybe the book could teach people something about an influential figure in US history. If people understood where they'd come from, they could understand the future. That was the creed Rachel had always lived by.

Jess nodded. "Oh, okay! So, nonfiction. Is it like, a biography?"

"Well, it's, focused on the work he did establishing our national parks. You know he used to entertain dignitaries at the White House by making them go on these crazy hikes where they had to cross rivers and all that crazy stuff. Imagine. You're going to see the president of the United States and expecting a relaxing evening. And Teddy makes you go a ten-mile hike!"

Rachel laughed, trying to cut through the awkwardness. Just then, her toast was ready. She got a plate and started to put jelly on it. The coffee wasn't quite ready, but it was getting there. She'd made a big pot, just in case anyone else who was coming wanted any.

Jess hummed, pulling a mug out of one of the cupboards and plopping a tea bag inside.

"I would hope he'd give me enough notice to make sure I was at least wearing the right shoes."

Rachel laughed. "Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. That was Teddy. He was like a kid. I'm sure you know Teddy bears are named after him, right?"

"Oh, yeah! I remember that fun fact from school."

Rachel took a bite of her toast. "So, how old is everyone else here? Twelve?"

Jess chuckled. "I think they're probably early twenties. I can't imagine them letting kids stay here."

"It was a joke," Rachel responded curtly. Rachel took a deep breath. She could smell the coffee now, and in another moment it was finished. She took a Donald Duck mug out of the cupboard hesitating slightly before she did. Donald had been Lacey's favorite cartoon character. She took a little cream from the fridge and poured her coffee. "Anyway, I've never done anything like this before. And it's kind of nice to have some time away from my husband, between you and me."

"I can imagine. I'm treating this like my vacation," she laughed. "No work, no stress. Just sleep and catch up on reading I've been wanting to get done for months.

"What do you do for work?" Rachel asked as she took aa sip of coffee. It was perfect.

"Ah. Nothing exciting. I'm a manager at Best Buy. Really hit the jackpot, there." Jess chuckled again. The teapot started to whistle behind her, and she spun around to take it off the heat.

Rachel shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with that. I don't even have a real job. Just my book."

"Oh, of course," Jess said, pouring hot water into her mug.

"I shouldn't complain," Rachel said. "I'm really lucky. Justin, well, he's an attorney," she said quietly, almost as if she was ashamed of it. "We do okay."

"I'm sure that kind of work keeps him busy," Jess said, lifting her mug up to her face.

"It does," Rachel said quietly. She was always cautious when meeting new people, but was sure Jessica had no idea that her grandfather was Jay Whitman, and she wasn't about to say anything to let that on.

Jess took in a deep breath and looked over at the living room, and the sunshine coming through the windows. "Well, I don't want to chat your ear off so early in the morning."

"No problem," Rachel replied. "I was going to start rereading Little Women, actually. The new movie was so good."

Jess smiled. "I haven't seen it yet, but I did see good reviews."

"Maybe they'll let us do a movie night while we're here," Rachel said as she took her coffee and her toast and went to find a seat in the living room.

"I'd really enjoy that."

It was disorientating waking up in an unfamiliar room, but it was even more disorientating to hear the sound of bagpipes being played loudly down the hall.

Noah opened his eyes and stared groggily at the ceiling, trying his best to remember what had led to this point. He sat up - the dream he had just had already threatening to slip away - and pulled out the notebook he was supposed to keep his dream log in. The more he wrote of the dream he had the night before, the more he missed Reid. He had always heard that dreams were based on the subconscious - maybe his dreams had picked up on how much he was questioning his decision to do this test. It had barely begun, but he already wished he could have contact with the outside world. He really wanted to see Reid's face again.

After he finished writing his dream log, he finally got out of bed. He stretched and looked around his room, trying to ignore the bagpipe being played down the hallway. He wandered around his room a little aimlessly; it was hard getting used to a new place and a new system of organization. It only took a few more minutes before he finally found a decent set of clothes.

He could have worn his pajamas, but there was something more comforting about wearing the clothes he normally wore - and especially wearing the jacket Reid had given him. Combined with his ring and necklace, Noah didn't feel like he was really all that far away from home.

He finally left his room.

He heard movement from nearby. Turning, he found himself looking at the only person he hadn't caught the name of last night. He gave her a tired smile, pushing thoughts of Reid and breakfast aside for now.

"Hi," he said, giving a tiny wave.

"Oh hey!" She looked up at him, distracted. Her eyes lingered on his face briefly; Noah wondered if she was questioning his scars. Most of them were covered, but there were still a few little ones that littered his face.

After an awkward pause, she shrugged towards the sound coming from behind them. "I don't remember that being in the contract."

Noah glanced in the direction the music was coming from.

"I don't, either," he said. "I think that might be Clyde - I saw him bring in a case that looked like it could carry a bagpipe."

He faltered, realizing that bagpipe cases probably weren't something most people could recognize. He wanted to make a good impression. If he was going to be with everyone here for awhile, he wanted them to think he was normal - not weird.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "My best friend went through an instrument phase a few years ago," he admitted. "He didn't play the bagpipe long, but he bought one off of Ebay and hasn't had the heart to sell it."

"Glad that you told me. Between us, I haven't had a lot of encounters with that particular instrument and I certainly don't want to come off as dumb in the very beginning." She smiled, almost as if the idea was amusing to her. "What's your...?"

Then she cut it off midway.

"Wait, I know," she said. "You're Noah, right?"

He nodded.

"I am," he confirmed, smiling again. He tried to remember if he had heard her name somewhere before, but he was pulling a blank - he didn't know who she was. The smile fell for the briefest of moments. "What's your name?"

"Technically, it's Tarana. But you can use the shorter version- Tara" While talking, they had slowly made their way to the living room. Tara casually glanced around and commented, "I thought the other two ladies will be here. "

"They must be in their rooms still," Noah guessed. He could have sworn he heard talking when he left his room, but...

He glanced behind them - his confusion immediately solved. The kitchen was to their backs, so they hadn't seen Rachel and Jess when they walked in. Noah gave them a shy little wave before turning back to Tara.

"I think I found them," he said, gesturing over his back with his thumb.

She turned around to where Noah was pointing at. She watched Jess and Rachel talk for a moment before sniffing and grinning. "I smell coffee. Maybe if we're lucky, there would be some for us too."

"That would be nice," Noah agreed. He wasn't too much of a coffee drinker, but he felt like he could use it after how this morning had started.

He looked back over at Tara. It was nice, talking to her. She had to be a few years older than him, but he felt like he was talking to someone who understood him - even though they had only just started the conversation.

"Why did you decide to do the trial?" he asked, feeling uncharacteristically bold. "I thought it would be good for my health and my wallet."

At this particular question, her smile slipped a bit.

Tara looked away.

"It sounded fun," she replied in an offhand manner.

Something about the way she replied made Noah think he had asked something too personal, but he didn't get a chance to rectify his mistake. Right as he opened his mouth to apologize, the bagpipes down the hallway went silent.

Noah hesitated.

Tara looked up towards the direction the sound had been coming from before and then released a quiet sigh - Clyde was leaving his room. The morning bagpipe practice had finally come to an end. As Tara turned back to Noah, he realized he had been sighing in relief, too.

Noah couldn't help but share a little smile and laugh with Tara following their simultaneous sighing.

Maybe spending time with the other people here wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would be?

I am so glad that this didn't come up yesterday, because otherwise my dream would have been awkward.

Firstly, I had a hard time falling asleep. My mind was racing. With thoughts of Lacey. Of our brother. I hoped he was still staying out of trouble. Then I thought of the others, and what they would do if they found out about my past. I still remember when Dad first told me.

It was a year after we met Aunt Amy and Aunt Tara. Ryan had asked why we'd never met or heard about them before, so it was hard for Dad to keep it much of a secret. I'd only been nine years old then, so he'd given us the CliffNotes version. Amy and Tara had different mommies than him. And then he'd told us about Aunt Esther, and how she died when Mom was pregnant with me.

When I was sixteen, he'd told me the full story. Lacey and Ryan had picked up the pieces in the years that followed.

In the dream, I was at Eagle Rock. Maybe it was not having our phones or the internet that did it, but I hadn't thought about that place in a long time.

My grandfather was the only one there. It looked just as did in my memory, only much more still. And grandpa looked as he did in the pictures Dad showed me from his childhood. Hair neatly cut. Clean shaven. Clothes that said fifties suburban husband rather than than seventies spiritual leader.

I was sitting at the firepit, and so was he.

"Rachel, I want to bring your siblings here," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I want to be a part of your life," Grandpa responded, seemingly earnestly.

"I do too."

He extended his arms and hugged me. It was nice.

"What about Dad?" I asked.

"Bring him here too. Bring your aunts. Bring everyone. We're going to be a happy family."

It while I was buried in his surprisingly warm and comforting chest that I woke up.

I sat up in bed and sighed. It was already nine by the time I woke up. I better get moving.

I was on the balcony of a restaurant in Venice, Italy. Not that I've ever been, but it's what I imagine it would look like based on pictures and movies, and that's where my mind told me I was in the dream. The sky was painted by a brilliant sunset with red, orange, pink, and a gradient of blues. I was sitting at a table, and for a moment, it was silent as I looked at the setting sun, entranced by the beautiful view. I must have sat there in silence for quite some time, as the sun was halfway hidden by the time my attention was pulled away.

Mikhail sat across from me, and I would brought back to the present when he reached across the table and held my hand. Before I even looked at our hands I felt the rings.

We had talked about marriage before my father's condition got worse, but we'd never acted on it. Things ended before rings were involved.

Even though I was immersed in the dream, something didn't sit right with me.

As I looked up at Mikhail he seemed different. I hadn't seen that look in his eyes since we had first started dating.

"Do you miss me?" he asked.

The question took me by surprise. We were together. His hand was holding mine. I didn't understand what he was referring to, and yet, in my gut, I knew. There was a part of me that knew this wasn't real.

"No," I lied, squeezing his hand.

I didn't really think about it, but my fingers found his ring and slid it off. He didn't flinch or pull away, and I set his ring on the table in one of the white checkered squares. It fit perfectly. I don't know why, but it seemed poetic. And sad.

There was a moment of silence between us, and the chatter at the other tables on the balcony grew louder. We could overhear a couple rattling on about wedding plans at the table beside us. It seemed like a cruel type of irony. They were discussing color schemes and flowers, cake flavors, and all of the things you dream about, divorced from the reality of the cost.

I found myself playing with a straw wrapper on the table. I don't know if they even have straws in Italy, which sounds like a silly thing to say. But I wonder if that's more of an American thing.

The straw wrapper ended up around my finger, and somehow I managed to tie it into a bow. It felt kind of childish, but it actually turned out quite nice considering how flimsy that kind of paper is. I wore the wrapper ring on my ring finger, on the opposite hand, and realized I hadn't taken my ring off yet. When I took a closer look, the gem on it was deep emerald green. It wasn't quite big enough to be gaudy, but it felt like a statement piece. But a statement of what, I wasn't sure.

"Do you miss me?" Mikhail asked again, grabbing my hand once again. I was afraid he'd crush the paper bow I worked so hard to make.

I looked up into his eyes. I wished this dream was more realistic. It felt so vivid, and I wish I didn't happen.

Because it did make me miss him.

"I can't tell you that," I decided to say. It felt like a cheap cop-out. I was avoiding the question this time. I knew he was asking again because he didn't believe me.

"I want to talk it through again," he said. Again. As if we hadn't tried a million times before.

I got up from my seat. He got up too. The sun seemed to have moved on the horizon so it was right behind him. It was so bright, I couldn't see his face. All I saw was his silhouette. I squinted, but that didn't help.

"You don't even live in Phoenix anymore," I retorted. I don't know why I said that, because he didn't move. That's not true, but when I said it, I felt like it was.

"Come with me, then."

That was when I started to feel like I was living in a movie, and as silly as it felt, it also hurt.

I took the ring off my finger - the one with the emerald - and I set it on the table.

"No. Come with me."

I don't know what he said next, because when I looked up to see his reaction, I woke up.

When the dream started - if what I remember really was the start - I found myself in one of the alleyways I spent countless hours in growing up. I couldn’t pinpoint the name. That’s not something my childhood self was important to remember. What was important to remember was its relation to other places: the soup kitchen, the homeless shelter, and the apartments that usually threw their clothes out on the curb. This alleyway was near the shelter. It was the place where I’d play hopscotch with the kids in the towering apartments outside; their parents were always too busy working to wonder where their kids had gone.

But the alleyway was devoid of the life I had come to associate it with. Everything else felt right. The sunlight fell into the alleyway just the way it was supposed to, casting familiar shadows on the ground and the buildings that towered over me. The toys I remembered from my childhood were there, too; none of them had aged a single day. And even I felt right standing there. I was a weird mix between adult and child. I felt like I was my nineteen year old self mentally and physically, but the proportions of the alleyway had shifted to fit my now much bigger body.

I stood in the alleyway for what felt like an eternity, watching birds and mice scurry about in the darkness towards the very back of the alleyway. The streets provided the rumbling of engines and tires speeding along pavement as background music to distract me, even though the roads were empty of people.

But, eventually, I started to hear voices I recognized.

It was the kids from next door. Like everything else, they were just as I remembered them. Allie had the same little pigtails she always stubbornly wore, and Kat had her wild hair tucked underneath her grandpa’s old baseball cap. They shouldn’t have been as tall as me, but they were just as tall in comparison to me now as they had been years ago.

They were talking about something. I’m not really sure what it was. I could just feel the vibrations of their voices in the air, and saw the way that they moved their mouths. Maybe I thought the mice and birds were more interesting than them. I don’t really know.

But I did know that they saw me. We made eye contact for a moment. I think they tried to include me in the conversation. But when I tried to give a response back - a hello, an answer, anything - I couldn’t get a noise to come out of my throat. My lips were moving. I could feel my tongue pressing up against my teeth and the roof of my mouth. But my words were silent, and Allie and Kat didn’t want to deal with someone who couldn’t be bothered to join in the conversation.

I tried getting closer to them. My dream self was sure that if I was right beside them, they wouldn’t ignore me. That they would ask me my thoughts on whatever they were talking about, because how could they ignore the person that was right beside them? I was getting close because I wanted to be a part of their conversation.

It didn’t work, of course.

I wish Reid was there. I wished my dad was there. Neither one of them would have left me on my own. I fiddled with my ring and necklace as the conversation became quieter and quieter. Even my dream self remembered that my dad hadn’t ever made me feel alone once I moved in with him. Dream Noah knew that Reid had gone to school for Allie and Kat - that when we had to move to Reid’s city back when I was in middle school, and when I ran into Allie and Kat again, it was Reid who comforted me when the two didn’t even recognize their childhood best friend.

But I’m not a lucid dreamer. I can’t conjure dreams into existence. When I thought of Reid and Dad, it was a little, passing thought that only my awake self would spend so much time agonizing over.

When I looked up from the ring again, I found that the scene had shifted. I was in a different alley, now. Kat and Allie were gone. The roads outside the alleyway were dark and silent; I’m not sure what gave my dreaming self the clue, but part of me knew that the world as I knew it was long gone. That what had happened with Allie and Kat was just the flickering daydream of a lonely survivor.

As I felt myself start to wake up, I began to drift through the empty wasteland of towering metal structures and ash so white that it could have been mistaken for snow.

I vaguely realized I was in some kind of room. It was barely furnished and slightly resembled my room in the drug trial facility. Everything was encompassed in semi-darkness, but at the same time I could see everything clearly. It occurred to me that I must have been here for a while for my eyes to have adjusted so well. It was some time in the night because there wasn't any incoming source of light from the windows. Going closer, I tried to yank them open and found that they won't budge. Taking in a deep breath, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and weighed out my options. I wondered if I should shout for help, but then decided against it. It was only my second night here and I had just started getting along with people. For some reason, it never occurred to me to try the door. Instead I decided to wait for the morning, when everyone would be awake. I looked around the room half-heartedly in an attempt to find something with which to pass the time. The atmosphere hung heavily around me. I tried to remember all the exercises I had practised with my mother as a kid to dispel away the claustrophobia. My mind kept on drawing a blank.

The scene changed abruptly as I found myself walking through a dark tunnel. Like every other of its kind, this one too had a bright outlet- a distant echo of sunlight and everything that was free. I involuntarily took a step back, for I had unconsciously assumed that whatever I was looking for was in the shadows. If I went into the light, I would perhaps forever lose it in the depths of the tunnel.

I was about to turn around when I saw him. It wasn't all that surprising to see Val. Ever since his family moved, he would often appear in my dreams. Having no siblings, I had spent a major portion of my childhood following him around. He was a year older, but the best friend I could have ever asked for at that time. So when he left, in a way, I retreated into my shell.

He looked the exact same as before, his silhouette making a dark outline as he stood in the mouth of the tunnel. Val held out his hand for me, "Let's go out, Tara. We can't play in the dark." It reminded me of all the times when he would forcefully pull me out of the house. If not for him, I would have literally turned into a science geek.

"Not yet. There's something I must find. I don't want to waste my time playing." Realizing the rude undertone, I added, " It's alright, you go on. I'll be right behind."

"No, you won't. You promised that you would stay in contact, but you didn't."

Just in that moment, it hit me how right he was. I didn't want to go into the light even if I found what I was looking for. Outside, there was too much uncertainty. This thought made me turn back towards the darkness. And yet the fact that there was a way out and I was not trapped kept the claustrophobia at bay this time. As I started walking, out of the corner of my eyes I saw Val disappear. I felt the familiar sensation of passive acceptance settle within me, exactly like the time when he had come to say goodbye before leaving. I had known I would never see him again and I didn't try to change things. Immersing myself within academics, ambitions and superficial friendships ; I had tried to forget what it felt like to go into the sun.

I never realized when the dream faded away into oblivion. By the time I woke up, it was already morning.

The hat on my head didn’t quite fit. I remember that, even as my odd clothes scratched at my skin. It was the hat that bothered me. I reached up to take it off, but an older man next to me shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said. I looked him up and down. The green fabric on his clothes matched mine, and he had a strange bowled hat like my own. “Come on, it’s almost time,” he said, nodding ahead. I followed where his eyes took him.

Ahead of me was a beach. Wire and smoke decorated what should have been a scenic environment, and a roof of clouds above made the entire setting feel like a hopeless prison. The older man from a minute before nudged me, and when I turned back to him, he shoved a rifle into my arms. I looked down at it. It was vintage, and a knife had carved into the barrel casing the words “Arcane Empress”.

Ignoring the text on the weapon, I could tell what was going on from what I guessed the age of the gun itself was. Looking out onto the beach, I could see men dressed in uniform dotting the water, all carrying guns like mine. Gunfire rang out across the beach now. Today was June 6th, 1944. D-Day. And I was being thrown head-first into the fray.

The hatch of our boat opened, and men from around me began to charge out and into the water. I was swept up in the commotion, thrown into the ocean like a lamb to the slaughter. As we neared the beach, bullets began to spray down onto us. One whizzed by my head, and another caught a soldier in the head not ten feet from me. As the blood poured out and turned the bay red, it no longer felt like I was in a dream.

I trudged forward through the water, the bullets by my head and torso increasing in frequency. Despite my forward motion, I wasn’t making any progress, and suddenly the prison imagery Omaha had drawn up earlier felt appropriate. More lead rained down around me, one bouncing off my helmet, but none hit me. I looked around me to see the other soldier approaching, but there were none standing. All that filled the water were floating corpses.

My attention went back to the beach, but it was gone. Shallow ocean waters spread out around me in all directions, blood pooling and clumping with the salt. The clumps grew, clustering around me and holding me in place. The bullets continued to fall on me. None hit me, but they began to bounce off my helmet more and more. I wanted nothing more than to wake up. The realism of the world had broken, and I was conscious of my situation. Without hesitation, I pull the helmet off my head. And then I awoke.

After waking up, Tara stared blankly at the wall for a few seconds before it all came back to her. She tried to remember when was the last time she had dreamed of Val. But after drawing a blank, she decided to get done with the dream journal first, knowing full well that it would be too difficult to remember later. Though something about her dream made her uncomfortable, Tara pushed it to the back of her mind. She has long gotten used to the fact that Val showed up in her dreams on such a regular basis even though she has had no contact with him whatsoever. In fact, she had even started thinking of him as a dream friend- a mere figment of her imagination.

After brushing her teeth, pulling her hair into a ponytail and fixing her contacts, she decided to do some light reading. It was later than her usual wake up time and in the university or back home she was always in a hurry to get things done. She thought about her day ahead and realized that she could do anything she wanted- no deadlines, no paper submissions, no parents or professor getting on her nerves. Tara pulled out Future of Another Timeline and started from where she left off. She remembered her parents disapproving of her reading sci-fi since they believed it wasn’t real physics. But she was a strong believer of Einstein’s ‘Imagination is more important than education’. Deep down, she knew this was what got her so into physics and research in the first place.

Hearing a light knock, Tara looked up from her book. She had decided to leave the door slightly open.

The door opened just enough for Jess's head to poke in.

"Hey, sorry if I'm interrupting," she started, flashing an apologetic smile. "I was just wondering if you wanted to help me make some banana bread? If you like to bake?"

Tara didn't like being interrupted in the middle of her reading, but at the same time she didn't want to come off as unfriendly. She was also slightly curious what Jess would be like.

"Yeah sure. Although I must warn you that I'm not too great at this. But I would like to help." She said keeping her book aside.

"Oh, that's fine!" Jess assured her. "I know the recipe by heart, it's just nice to have some company while I make it. I know we've only been here three days, but I think I'm starting to feel a little restless, and baking can be fun. But - anyways, I'll give you a moment to get ready and wake up or whatever you need. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready!"

With that, Jess closed the door.

Tara was happy to get an extra moment as she tried to remember her past cooking experiences which weren't a lot. Instead she just decided to follow Jess' lead and went after her into the kitchen. She could see Jess pulling things out of the cabinets - some mixing bowls, measuring cups, and various ingredients. Tara easily recognized the sugar and flour, but all of the other little bottles and things were lost on her.
After an awkward moment of silence, she asked, "What would you like me to do first?"

Jess turned around. "Oh! Well, we can start with mixing the wet ingredients. How about you crack these eggs into this bowl here-" Jess slid the bowl towards Tara, and set a carton of eggs beside it. "Just four of them."

Tara sighed quietly. She was happy to get something she had done before. She washed the bowl and started with the eggs. After cracking two, she realized they were too quiet and decided to start with some small talk.
"Do you think the others are up? I didn't see anyone though and more surprisingly, I don't hear any bagpipes. "

Jess chuckled. "Ah, well, I saw Clyde head to the bathroom, so he might be showering or something. Rachel's been in her room most of the morning and I don't know what Noah's up to. Maybe you could ask him if he wants to help too?"

"I don't know- maybe he's not up yet. Perhaps, next time. Anyways, he seemed too nice to say no." Tara pushed the bowl towards Jess and waited for further instructions.

"Ah, you'll want to beat those," Jess said, handing Tara a whisk. "And well, you don't have to wake him. I'm sure the smell of banana bread will reach him once it's in the oven, and we can all eat some together when it's done."
"One of the best things I like about cooking is there's always a reward at the end- the promise of good food." She smiled at Jess and then added, "But as long as we're here, we can plan on some group activities and get to know each other. Since we don't have much of anything else to do. Banana bread is a good start. "

"Yeah," Jess said with a grin. "I know Rachel was talking about a movie night, which I think could be fun. I saw some popcorn on one of the shelves, and we could have something else too. Pizza's pretty typical, but I don't know if everyone can have cheese."

They talked some more about food and cooking in general and Tara realized she hadn't had a lot of moments like these with her mother. Sure, they have had scientific discussions and debates, but cooking not so much. It only occurred to her then that she had been missing out.

They finally put in the two loaves of bread into the oven and set the timer. As they waited, Tara asked casually," So did you have a good sleep?" She realized a little late that it was possibly not a safe territory, but the words were out already.

Jess was putting some of the ingredients away in a cabinet above the oven and paused mid-motion, with a bag of sugar in hand. "Oh, it's been pretty amazing actually," Jess said, unfreezing and putting the sugar away. "Until this trial, I really hadn't been sleeping well. But in the last three days, I think I've gotten the best sleep I have in a really long time. I actually feel rested. How about you?"

"I know what you mean. I ended up sleeping a little more than usual and it's just like the third day. And I had this really weird dream that I was trapped in my room and it was all dark. Thinking about it now, I feel it's possibly because we are so cut off from everybody," Tara said conversationally.

Jess leaned back on the counter. "It could be that. Have you had dreams like that before?"
Tara slightly regretted talking about her dreams and wondered if it would be too rude to change the subject now. But then she heard the murmur of voices coming in the direction of the kitchen and the expression 'saved by the bell' ran through her mind.
"Looks like Noah and Clyde can smell it already."

Jess looked out of the kitchen. "Ah! Seems so. Well, they'll have to wait another hour before it's ready."

After waking up, getting dressed and helping herself to coffee and cereal, Rachel took refuge in the living room. If the others looked at her, she acknowledged them with a slight smile. She knew she had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this particular morning, and was still shaken by her dream.

Ten years ago, she would have taken it out on everyone else. Now, it was better just to avoid people until she could do something that would relax her. She took her breakfast into the living room and tried and failed to read the same page of Little Women. She heard Jessica and Tarana take over shortly and thought she smelled banana bread baking in the kitchen. They were loud and it was hard to focus, but she didn't know if she wanted to be in her room either, so she dealt with it. She hoped they'd offer some banana bread later, but she wasn't about to ask.

She put the book aside and turned on the TV. She remembered the lab telling them during their debriefing that it was a smart TV and had Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon Prime.

Rachel randomly clicked on Hulu first, wading her way through a glut of reality TV to the featured TV and movies.

Looking for Alaska. She'd heard from Amy that it was a good show. That Tyler was reading it now. Rachel had never read it when the book first came out, but a lot of her friends had. Still, she wasn't sure she wanted to start another TV series now.

Her heart sank as she saw what was next.

Alexandra.

Out of morbid curiosity, she clicked on it. There was a still from the movie. The actors' names. The director. The. year it was released, 2014. A proud headline of Nominated for 8 Academy Awards!

Yeah, fuck that movie.

She started to click away when she heard a noise. Through the doorway came Clyde, nodding to Rachel when he spotted her. "Mornin'... Looking for something to watch?"

"Yeah, guess so," Rachel said.

"Movies were never really my thing. Too long, I always fall asleep halfway through. Which, well, isn't unexpected for someone with narcolepsy. But no matter..." He paused before looking to the screen. "Any favorites?"

"My husband and I... we like a lot of the older stuff. Casablanca is a favorite." The casual mention of narcolepsy made Rachel raise her eyebrows, but she didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.

"Casablanca. I think I watched that. Well, the first ten or so minutes of it. Good movie, I assume."

Rachel nodded. She gazed over at the scene, at the actress they'd chosen to play Alex Altman. What was her name? Jennifer or something. She didn't blame her for how the movie had turned out. She'd done her best. But she didn't look a thing like Alex. She was too pretty. Just a Hollywood actress with obviously dyed blonde hair. "The girl doesn't even look a thing like her."

Clyde looked over her shoulder, confused. "Look a thing like who?"

"Alex Altman," Rachel said, trying not to be too conspicous. "The true story this movie based on."

"True story?"

"Yeah, the Margaret Kelly murders in the summer of 1971. I thought everyone knew about that." She hesitated before she added, "Name Jay Whitman ring a bell?"

"Oh yeah, I remember some mentions of that in history class. Didn't know they made a movie out of it."

"Yep," Rachel said casually. She clicked away from the screen and went back to the menu she was browsing before.

"I always liked history class. Made more sense than math or something like that," Clyde commented.

"You're talking to the right person," Rachel said with a smile. "I'm a historian, actually."

Clyde tilted his head. "So that's how you know what Alex Altman looked like?"

"Yeah," Rachel said, not wanting to belabor the point.

"We should watch the movie. I'm sure the thirty or so minutes I'll stay awake through will be good fun."

Shit.

Rachel knew there was no backing out of this without drawing attention to herself now. "All right," Rachel said. "Let's invite everyone else," she added, hoping she could stall. She was sure everyone else would want to watch, with all the accolades it had recieved and all. She supposed she'd survived.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll go ask around, then," he said with a quick wave before ducking out of the room and down the hall.