Young Writers Society

Kira wasn't too flustered when her clothing suddenly changed; she had expecting something like that would happen soon. She gave the boy another look, hoping that he would finish what he had been about to say before the intrusion by Queenie's family.

But then she decided to give Queenie a searching, concerned look instead; she had a sneaking suspicion Queenie was just as worried right now - she was just probably better at hiding it.

Queenie glared at Kira, "You heard the bitch. Dinner time."

With that, Queenie pushed off the desk, twirling the pen in her hand, and left the room. She lingered in the hall long enough for Bobby to follow, nervously as he did anything. The poor kid looked ready to pass out, which was fair enough. He knew more about what went on in this house than even Queenie did.

Queenie led the way to the dining room, a grand place with a large, long table set with silverware or real silver and plates of gold. Special occasion then.

When she looked at who was sitting where, though, she paused.

Her father and Briar were both seated. Across from one another. The head of the table was empty, but set, and the servants were just finishing setting a place on either side of the table, one beside Briar, one beside their father.

It was clear who the seat at the head of the table was for.

Adam felt out of his depth here.

The way he saw his father act here was different. He was more on edge, more vulnerable. As soon as his father had gestured to him, his clothes changed too. He was in a similar outfit to his father and James, and at least it suited him more in the old West.

They had to be sometime in the 1940s. He knew the woman was Anna, his grandmother. The woman his father never mentioned, and who his mother only found out about the year that Jay went to prison the first time.

After a moment, Anna returned from the bathroom. "You never mentioned your name," she said to Jay.

"I'm Elijah," Jay said.

"Nice to meet you," Anna said. "I'll get your firewood."

Elijah? Adam thought. He knew that was father's middle name, but he supposed that he didn't want the same awkward conversation he'd had earlier by telling Anna his name was Jay.

The men followed her.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" She said, starting conversation. "I always told my son we'd go on a trip together, just the two of us. We're going to go see the Grand Canyon tomorrow."

Jay swallowed. It's not real. It's not real. It's not real, he reminded himself. He had a feeling about how this was going to end, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

"Does your son have a father?" Jay asked. He wasn't sure why he was asking a question he already knew the answer to, but he was curious to find out what his mother's response was. Or at least, the mother of his dream.

Anna shook her head. "He did. He left me," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Jay said. "You deserve so much more than that."

"Yeah, well," Anna replied. "I don't need anyone else."

Jay smiled tiredly. "Anna," he said. "Do you want to have a fire with us?"

"I can't leave my son alone."

"Of course..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"We can start a small one," Anna said. "I suppose there's no harm in letting Jay stay up a little longer."

Jay swallowed. He didn't know if he was ready to face his younger self. At least, not yet.

Kira faltered at the glare and at the comment, but she didn't argue. She just gave the boy one last look before following Queenie out into the rest of the house. She had seen large, grand places before, but had never been in a dining room as large as the one that they had ended up in - or one as grand. She scanned the table for a seat, trying to get over how strange this moment really was.

Queenie would sit at the head of the table. Kira could guess that much. Which left the seats next to the girl who had to be her sister and the man who had to be her father for Kira and the boy. She tried to guess which person he'd be less comfortable sitting next to. After a moment that felt like it lasted longer than it actually did, she sat down next to the man and left the seat next to the girl for the boy.

Queenie placed a hand on Bobby's back and said quietly enough that only he could hear, "She's not real, but if she tries to hurt you, I will slit her throat."

Bobby gave a little nod, and Queenie couldn't tell if he was comforted by that or just further horrified. It was always hard to tell what Bobby was and wasn't comforted by. Honestly, that kid never seemed to be comfortable.

Still, Queenie couldn't do anything else to help him, so she steeled her own nerves and strode to the head of the table like it was her place all along. Sitting down there, though, felt wrong. The wood burned her skin like it was coated in acid. Eyes were on her, false-friendly expressions on the faces of people she knew were anything but friendly.

"Are you going to introduce us to your friends?" her father's voice, her father's mouth, but that smile wasn't his.

"No," she said shortly.

There was an awkward pause.

"Are you feeling alright, sis?"

"Oh, fuck off Briar," Queenie snapped, "I know this isn't real. My acquaintances here know it isn't real. Either drop the act or start saying 'hurtful' things, or whatever it is you're going to do to screw this all up."

Kira shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Queenie, it seemed, was much more okay with addressing whatever was off about this fantasy than Kira had been. She knew she wouldn't be able to move too quickly with the table in the way, but Kira mentally prepared for the worst - she knew the boy across from her was terrified about whatever this place was actually supposed to be like.

Bobby hated this. He hated this.

He was in a chair, in the Ringly's dining room, sitting next to one of the Hounds. He knew, he just knew, there was a gun trained on him somewhere. Or Briar had a knife, or his food was poisoned, or...he was feeling nauseous.

Queenie's taunting didn't help. It was like she wanted the fantasy to break, but it refused. It refused very strongly.

Mr. Ringly and Briar both gave her concerned looks, asked questions, stressed her out.

Queenie got angrier with every word, though she hid it behind a thinning veil of calm.

Underneath the table, Kira's hands started to flicker. She was trying to keep their shape right - she really was - but it was hard to focus on looking human when Queenie kept antagonizing her fantasy and the boy was continuously terrified of it. She was so absorbed by trying to come up with some way to intervene that her hands kept flickering between human and something much longer and shadow-like.

Thankfully, they were hidden away.

James watched quietly as Jay kept the conversation going. He could only imagine how strange it must've been for Jay to converse with his mother, knowing that his younger self was not far off. He imagined it was probably strange for Adam too - he was already seeing his father at a younger age than he should've been, and now there were two versions of his father in the same place, neither of them the age that they should've been to reasonably, actually be the father Adam knew from his point in time.

James was glad he didn't have a lot of experience with traveling through time. It was just other worlds he was always thrown into.

At the offer to share the warmth of a fire, James eagerly jumped at the opportunity to do something useful. Something other than standing by awkwardly.

"I can go fetch the firewood," he volunteered.

"I'll come with you," Adam said to James.

He was uncomfortable being here, and felt like he was leering into something that he shouldn't see. He could also tell that his father looked nervous and vulnerable, a look he wasn't used to seeing on him.

Still, he had a feeling Jay would use this against him, against the others, later. He'd heard whispers about his father's past, and he had a sinking feeling about what was about to happen. But that didn't make his actions okay. Nothing did.

"It's just over there," Anna said quietly, gesturing to a pile about fifteen feet away from where they were.

Adam led James over to the fire, trying to hear whatever he could.

Meanwhile, Anna woke little Jay and brought him over to the fire pit. He stared for a while at his younger self. This boy was slowly starting to wake up to the realities of the world.

This boy, at eight years old, who was left by himself in the house, sometimes for nights on end. He didn't blame his mom for any of it....

"This is my friend Elijah," Anna said to Jay.

Jay swallowed. "What do you think of it here?"

Little Jay looked away, and instead buried his head in his mother's chest.

"He's shy," Anna said. "But we've always talked about coming here."

"Is it everything you imagined?" Jay asked.

Jay nodded.

"Tell me about you," Anna said, turning to Jay.

"I'm from Idaho," Jay replied. "I live in Colorado now. With my girlfriend."

"Not married?" Anna said, curious.

"Tried it. Didn't work out," Jay said, pursing his lips. For a moment, he felt a pang of guilt that he had never told his mother about Sarah. Still, she had made it clear the night he was arrested that she didn't want anything to do with him. Was that true?

And then....

They had a visitor. Jay sank, and his heart begin to pound. The man was tall and he could barely make out his features in the dark. And yet, he knew who this man was.

He stepped into the light just as Adam and James returned from getting firewood. He said nothing, but he looked like he was out for blood.

"Richard," Anna said with a smile. "You're just in time."

Jay winced and closed his eyes. This was his fantasy, right? So he could make Richard go away if he wanted to. And he wasn't a little boy anymore. Men like Richard didn't scare him anymore.

"Leave us now," Jay said.

"Or you'll do what?" Richard snapped back, his words slurred.

"I'll fucking kill you," Jay said, standing up to meet Richard's eye line. "Stay away from my mother."

It didn't work. Richard shoved his stepson to the ground.

The gravel and dust hurt. The others watched helplessly.

James knew the moment Richard entered the scene that things were turning for the worse. He didn't know if this true to Jay's history, or if this was his fears being made manifest, but it didn't matter. James wasn't going to watch as Richard did whatever it was his drunken self was planning to do. He knew none of it would be good.

James stepped forward between Richard and Jay, meeting the man's eyes.

"Hey. You seem like a reasonable man," James said. He didn't mean that, but the man was drunk. He was appealing to him, not flattering him. But if Richard did anything to hurt anyone - regardless if Richard was real or part of this dream - James wouldn't hesitate to put him in his place.

That said, that would be his last resort.

"We don't want any trouble. We're all just tired. We've had a long day and need a good night's rest."

Richard didn't back down.

"Oh yeah?" Richard taunted James.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore," Jay said, standing up to face his one time stepfather in the eyes. The man who'd find every excuse to whip him with his belt. Even if he did as much as breathe wrong.

All the while being his mother's Prince Charming, until he had too much to drink and turned his wrath on her. He'd been so young at the time, too afraid to know better or do anything.

"Stop it," Anna screamed. "Stop it, both of you!"

"Shut up, bitch," Richard shouted. Anna cowered back and held little Jay in her arms.

Out of nowhere, Adam came in and pinned Richard to the ground. It had been a long time since he'd been this angry, but he had to do something.

Richard was almost making him feel sympathy for his father, even if he didn't deserve it. No one deserved to go through that. But it didn't mean you turned your anger out on everyone else. He was livid, and he was going to let his father have it as soon as the two had a moment alone.

Adam gave his father a look. "This changes nothing," he said. "I still hate you."

"I have a hard time believing that," Jay responded once he caught his breath.

Jay didn't respond and Adam turned back to Richard. "Get out of here," he spat. "Leave as alone." He eyed James, and then his father.

Jay had to admit that there was something that made him proud about seeing Adam tackle his abuser. Still, he looked away. He couldn't bear to face any of them right now. I'm sorry, Mommy, he thought. He didn't have the strength to say any of it out loud. I miss you. I just wanted you. And a fucking dad. Was that too much to ask?

Queenie stared in disbelief at the imposters.

"What's wrong, my dear?" her father asked. He'd always had kind eyes, warm brown and crinkled at the edges, like he spent his life in a fit of jolly laughter. It had taken her so long to learn to see what was behind those eyes, to read too far into his every motion, every twitch of the lip, every second-too-late blink. Now they were...empty. Not a scheme, not a plan, not a game. He was asking if she was okay, and that was all.

Gods, she wanted to hit him.

Her muscles trembled with the urge. She wanted to wrap her fingers around his throat and squeeze until those eyes started scheming again. She wanted Briar to react.

She wanted a fight.

Her gaze flicked over Briar. Briar. The signature air of arrogance, that cold, unreadable expression, all of it was gone. Just like their father, Briar had been stripped of her personality, her annoying, deadly traits, and left a puppet for the thing that pulled all the strings in this little...situation.

"Where's your sketchbook?" Queenie asked Briar suddenly. A question the real Briar would rather kill than answer, not that that was saying a lot. Briar wasn't too bothered by their profession. Maybe that's why she was so much better at it than Queenie ever had been.

"My room," Briar said flatly. At least that hadn't changed. Hardly a hint of emotion showed through in Briar's voice.

"Get it."

Briar dipped her head and stood, "Yes, boss," she strode quickly from the room.

Yes, boss. Boss.

Queenie blinked.

No...

So that was the fantasy.

Something twisted in her chest. Something hot, greedy, gleeful.

Maybe...a minute or two more.

"Queenie?" Kira hesitantly asked, finally finding her voice. Her hands no longer looked human underneath the table - she couldn't focus on making them look the way they were supposed to look anymore.

Bobby watched Queenie's expression change as she looked down at the table. Something Briar had said had calmed her and she was...smiling, even, a little.

And then Kira spoke, and the mask was back on. Bobby couldn't see through it.

"What?" Queenie asked tersely.

Bobby was suddenly finding his reflection in the perfectly polished spoon before him very interesting. Reflection.... Maybe......