Young Writers Society

"It's not a movie," Wren mumbled from behind her hands. The words would have been a little hard to hear, but they were still miraculously audible. "It's a news report from my city..."

She ducked her head down, hands still covering her face.

"And I...I am," she managed to get out. "Superheroes are cool. And, um, the Actor was the first one, so of course I know a lot about him. He's...He's the reason I got into them in the first place..."

The superheroes that Wren spoke about sounded a lot like the historical figures the leaders back home would make speeches about. Although these people seemed a lot more alive than those spoken about in Hablex's home. How interesting, truly.

"I'm glad he seemed to help guide you." Hablex glanced at Wren, then went back to her drawing. She decided to try to sketch out a group picture, all in black-and-white of course since she found some paper at a second check from the bookcase.

She figured she shouldn't question the magic in this house for too long.

"I haven't heard of the actor," Amy said. "Is he DC or Marvel?" She figured Wren was being sarcastic. She'd look into it later. Maybe he was a new character. When they got home. If. No, not if. That couldn't be.

"So I've been wanting to write a book about Princess Anastasia," Amy said. "I know they're making an animated movie but I'm not sure how I feel about it. I've always been really interested in her life." She took a deep breath. "I certainly don't want to teach forever." Amy bit her lip. "I just want to do something meaningful. And Anastasia... she was killed when she was seventeen because of who her family was. It's not right. Maybe by writing a book I can do her justice."

She was shocked at how easily she was revealing this. She hadn't even told her family about the Anastasia book. Not yet. It wouldn't be a novel, but a biography, but she'd still want to give it a creative bent. She'd already started checking out documents at the library in her spare time. She'd found a few letters, but not much beyond that.

Maybe she could write a book about their time here too. She was starting to wonder why they were here in the first place and how on earth they were going to be able to get home. Still, she was waiting for someone else to bring that up first.

Wilson looked from girl to girl as they spoke, nodding. "Oh, that sounds like a great idea," she said to Amy with an encouraging smile. "Something more accurate to her history than an animated movie would definitely be interesting and do her story justice."

Wren gave a little smile too, her heart pounding in her chest when she realized how lucky she was. No one was questioning her answer. The conversation had shifted to a different topic. The TV refused to stop showing the news clip, but Wren pushed the sight and sound of it out of her mind.

Instead, she turned her attention back to the cabin and the woods.

She took a deep, steady breath.

She had to figure out what was going on here. She had been so focused on Amy being from another time and hiding her own secret that she had forgotten about the most important dilemma of all: finding a way home.

She looked around the cabin.

It still looked normal. It looked cozy, even. If Wren hadn't been magically transported here against her will, she would have really liked it. All it needed was a cute little rug in the center of the room-

There was suddenly a rug on the ground.

Wren stared at it.

The rug did nothing.

After a second passed, she hesitantly went over to check it out. It looked like a normal one. It was the same as the sled, and the drinks, and everything else that shouldn't have been here but suddenly popped into existence.

It was like this cabin was tailoring to their every need and desire - even the cabin itself had appeared when they were looking for some shelter from the forest.

She glanced over at the TV and thought about what she really wanted to see. A second later, an episode of Young Justice replaced the news cast. Wren thought for another second - Wizard of Oz took its place. Wren just kept going through every possible show that came to mind, trying to see if there was some limit to what she had picked up on.

There wasn't.

The TV finally went dark.

Wren had no way of noticing it, but the expression on her face had completely changed the moment she started paying attention to the rug - it was much more confident yet serious. Now, however, a little smile was beginning to sneak its way onto her lips. To say it was like her other, shy smiles would be a gross misstatement. This smile was just like the one that the Actor had given at the start of the interview a few moments before.

Because even if she didn't look the part right now, Wren definitely felt it.

Wilson stared as the TV rapidly changed channels before it suddenly went blank, and Wren was grinning like a maniac. There also seemed to be a rogue rug appearance.

Something was unsettled in her stomach. It wasn’t an emotion she’d felt in a while. Nervous? Disturbed? She was so accustomed to a detached wonder or curiosity that this made her feel... sick? No. Just strange.

Her eyes flicked to look around Wren’s lap.

“Are you sitting on the remote?”

She shook her head.

"I'm not," she said, in a tone that was like her normal one but also wasn't. Like her expression, it was confident. Wren barely noticed the difference. "I just thought about changing it."

She thought for another moment.

Turning around, she looked at a spot on the wall and pointed at it.

"There's nothing there right now," she said. "But if I think about putting a poster there..."

A second later, a Wicked playbill appeared on the formerly blank spot.

She glanced back at Wilson. "The cabin is changing to match what we want. That's why the TV keeps changing what it's showing, and why we keep finding things like sleds and ice-skating shoes."

Amy watched as the TV rapidly flipped channels. Wren said that the cabin was changing to match things they want. Sure, that made a lot of sense. I mean, it was kind of strange that the cabin had just appeared when they were all thinking about wanting shelter. Almost like magic.

And when she'd thought about Mr. Rogers, he'd appeared right on the TV. Now, she wanted to try. She closed her eyes and thought very intently for a moment until an episode of Monty Python appeared on TV, to one of her favorite sketches.

You're a very silly man and I'm not going to interview you.

But I want to be on television!

You can't, now go away.

She couldn't help herself from laughing. And as much as she wanted to keep watching, she had to keep trying. A moment of Cheers. Seinfeld. Then, it went black. A play? She could do that too. A Les Miserables poster appeared right beside where the Wicked one had been. She hadn't heard of that show.

Then, she froze. A six pack of beer was sitting at her feet, alongside a bottle opener. She took a deep breath. It was Heineken, not her favorite, but always a solid and reliable choice you could count on any liquor store to have. It smelled good. She touched a bottle. It was cold and perfect. She winced as she put it back in the case.

Why did she have to manifest this? It was like the cabin was taunting her.

"I can't drink this."

Wilson wasn't sure why Wren was acting differently, but she didn't like that everyone was starting to mess with things. Just because you could didn't mean you should. There was a delicate balance in the universe and she didn't know what the laws were in this realm they were invited into. Were these objects being created on the spot, like in a computer? Were they being taken from somewhere else?

She knew she could do this stuff all the time. She didn't need the help of the cabin - or this entire place's powers it seemed to be lending to them.

But... granting regular everyday people the ability to materialize their every whim and desire? That seemed kind of dangerous didn't it? Not that these girls were summoning weapons or anything, but still, it made her nervous. This was how some realities broke down, slowly.

The temptation to peek into the depths of herself was sickening. She knew the answers to everything were there, somewhere, but she knew it'd mean exposing herself again, and that never really seemed to go over well. It was easier just to be Wilson, a typical if a bit quirky, human girl.

"I don't think we should be... trying to do this kind of stuff," she said, her voice hesitant. "We don't know the consequences. Or why we were brought here. Or any of that."

Hablex blinked at the television switching to so many different pictures. She still imagined it as a box, but it made sense if there could be magic that could drag her into this other world, there could be a moving screen like this one.

Wilson’s words connected with her the most though, especially on terms of what manipulating this cabin of sorts could lead to. She also could understand why the other girls could not help in changing their surroundings.

It was so bizarre to see happen in real life, but even the simple task of thinking about a book was marvelous to witness.

“What should we do do then?” She asked. “Or, rather, what could be the reason we were brought here?”

Wren wasn't sure what she should focus on - Amy's comment about the drinks that appeared before her, or Wilson's comment about not abusing powers they didn't understand.

Wren had an idea about why the beer had appeared in front of her. She didn't want to ask - it would be rude, and she didn't even have any ideas on how to approach a conversation like that.

So, instead, she picked up the beer and brought it to another part of the cabin. It would hopefully be out of sight and out of mind.

She returned to the group.

"I don't know," Wren said. "It doesn't really feel...dangerous. I think we're supposed to do whatever we want here. I just can't figure out why."

She looked around.

As she did, her amber eyes turned several shades darker to a nice, dark brown, and her strawberry blond hair became slightly darker. If Wren had been paying more attention, she might have noticed the change. But she was too busy trying to figure out why they were here.

"Maybe we all have something in common?" she guessed.

Wilson blinked, and her eyes widened with revelation. She lifted up a finger.

"Oh!" she squeaked. "We're all girls."

Wilson's cautious warning went in one ear and out the other.

She could have anything she desired. That was hard, all of the things she wanted most in life weren't material. She wanted her innocence back, before she knew who her father was, before Scott had cheated on her with a nineteen year old, before she'd let her alcoholism got the best of her.

But more than that, what she wanted was a life that she never had. One she never could have. One where her mother made her lunch for her every day and one where her father took her to theme parks and to the movies. One where both of her parents loved each other as much as they loved her.

Before she knew it, she was crying again. "I'm sorry. It's just... it's been a really bad year, okay?"

Hablex glanced at everyone, pausing on Amy’s teary expression. She felt pity towards her, although she herself could acknowledge that those kinds of feelings did not make any person feel better.

She wondered what might have happened to Amy for her to cry with the fact that this cabin could provide anything a soul would ask for. But what would Hablex ask for? Probably nothing, really.

Her world was so very different than this one, after all.

“I’m sorry Amy.” She didn’t know if her voice was loud enough to hear, but that was the rare way she could comfort someone. “I don’t know why we of all people were brought here though. I’m not from this world in anyway, let alone out of a time.”

Wren was going to reply to Wilson's comment with a smile, but then Amy started crying.

She faltered.

...Sometimes, Wren forgot that was she was supposed to feel scared with things like this. That it wasn't normal to be thrown into a strange, unusual situation and only be worried about keeping a secret. Her eyes flickered between amber and dark brown as she lingered a few feet away from Amy.

This was scary, when she ignored the adrenaline and experience. And maybe not just scary - it was taunting. You could imagine anything. Wren was happy. She had a family. She had something to do after school, and her grades were great. She just didn't have any friends. But that wasn't that bad, right? She could talk to her family when she was having issues, and go out in town when she was feeling lonely.

Her shoulders slumped, and the colors of her outfit turned to black and red.

"It's okay," she whispered. She walked over to Amy. She was too small right now to give a hug without it coming across as weird, but grabbing onto her hand and giving it a tight squeeze wasn't out of the question.

So she did exactly that.

"We'll figure out how to get out of here," Wren said in a voice that was both hers and wasn't - she was using the same soothing tone she used when comforting victims of whatever crime had just occurred. "I promise."