Living Fiction - Ch. 2 - Sun/Moon (Patreon)

The sound of crickets grew louder, rising and falling in a crescendo that filled the night. Tall trees swayed and plentiful leaves rustled in the steady evening breeze. The moon was already out, basking everything in its cool, blue glow.

In the midst of this place, a place of inescapable nature, was nestled a small house - a single story with few rooms to speak of. Despite its diminutive size, it looked comfortable, with a plethora of windows allowing it to be as close to nature as possible while still using four solid walls. The lights were on inside the house, casting a warm, orange glow out into the wilderness.

The place was steeped in good feelings. Even from outside, love and harmony radiated from the glass walls. But, before the story began, Blake wanted to ensure her unexpected companion was still willing to move forward.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” she asked Yang for the second time. “We could always stay out here -”

This time there was no hesitation as Yang shook her head.

“I just survived an attack by a dragon. I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever else you throw at me.”

The exaggeration and accompanying grin put Blake at ease, believing that as long as Yang was making jokes she was fine with the situation. And Blake appreciated Yang’s willingness to embrace the unexpected - it might be more uncomfortable for the two of them to stand out here in silence than go inside and witness the chapter.

Although...it probably wouldn’t be as uncomfortable as Blake would have expected only moments ago, when it had felt nearly impossible to carry on a conversation in the confines of the library. With each passing second, she was actually finding it easier to come up with questions to ask and comments to add to the conversation. But the stark departure was likely caused by the fact that she’d unwittingly dragged Yang into a collection of unfamiliar stories. As the one with prior knowledge on these scenes, wasn’t it Blake’s task to help Yang remain calm?

“Would you call yourself adventurous?” Blake asked, drawing Yang’s gaze away from the tranquil forest surrounding them.

“Yes. Well, relatively. I guess it depends on if there are dragons involved.”

This time Blake laughed, earning a bright smile from Yang that was fully reassuring. As Blake would’ve expected based on nothing but observation, Yang was willing to go with the flow - after the initial bout of shock wore off. It might’ve been easier if this chapter had been first, but getting the dragon out of the way at the beginning might have worked out for the best - now Yang was prepared for anything. At least, that was the hope...

“You’re ready for another story then?” When Yang nodded, Blake waved towards the house standing less than fifty feet from them. “Then we need to go inside.”

“Into a strange house in the middle of nowhere,” Yang replied cheekily, following Blake to the door regardless. “How did you pick these chapters, anyway? I’d say they’re random, but you don't seem like the type that does things randomly.”

Considering that they only vaguely knew each other, Yang’s assumption was spot on.

“I picked a certain order,” Blake explained while they walked up three short steps to the front porch. “I tried to create a semblance of plot running through the chapters even though I used different books.”

“Creating a story out of stories?”

“Essentially.”

Stopping by the front door, Blake turned to Yang before heading inside and found it somewhat jarring to find her standing so close - especially after devoting so many hours wishing for the opportunity to spend time together outside of those few minutes every Wednesday evening. Now Yang was right here, about to follow Blake into another story that she’d chosen with only herself in mind.

“You aren't gonna tell me what the story is, are you?” Yang teased, easily making Blake smile and shake her head.

“If you’re willing…maybe you can watch and see if you can figure it out on your own?”

It was a modest suggestion, but Yang grinned.

“I’m totally willing to try! I just can't guarantee I won't flip out if there are ghosts or goblins or something like that.”

“Ah -”

When Blake turned to the door with a grin, Yang reached out and grabbed her shoulder.

“Woah, woah, woah there -” Yang said, spinning Blake back towards her. “There aren’t any ghosts, right? You didn’t put in any...spooky stuff?”

“You’ll see?”

When Yang’s jaw dropped, Blake chuckled and shook her head.

“But no, there’s nothing like that.” When Yang raised an eyebrow in playful disbelief, Blake smiled. “I promise.”

The assurance made Yang beam - maybe a bit too brightly because Blake hastily turned towards the house and led them inside. They immediately walked into a single open room that contained both the living room and kitchen, with little separating the two besides decor and imagination. The wall opposite of them was composed entirely of glass, with two wide glass doors allowing access to a patio in the back. There were several dim torches lit outside, but beyond those, there was only blue moonlight before reaching a wall of darkness that was a forest packed with trees.

Inside, there was minimal furniture, and what few pieces there were seemed to be relatively unused. The sofa was pristinely white. The dining table was covered in flowers. It was only the barstools at the island in the kitchen that appeared to be worn through regular shufflings and ‘important’ conversations held during mealtime.

The barstools were unoccupied at the moment, however, as the man and woman currently in the kitchen opted to stand instead.

“Oh...who are they?” Yang asked, crouching down as if she was going to sneak up on their next set of characters. Opting to walk normally, Blake sent Yang an amused glance.

“Do you actually want me to tell you?”

“Not really...I just like asking.”

The honest response and even more honest smile made Blake chuckle as they walked into the kitchen to observe the interaction at hand. Yang’s questions were actually quite enjoyable and proved that she was interested in the story at hand. It was much more than Blake could have asked for from an unwitting participant in this adventure.

“Are you the type who talks during movies?” she asked, curious about this side of Yang’s personality.

“Constantly. My friends hate it. Oh, sorry! Am I ruining this for you?”

“Not at all. I was just curious.”

After putting Yang back at ease with a smile, Blake watched the man in the kitchen pull a long, thin box out of the bag he’d carried in with him. It was a good three to four feet long, but only a matter of inches tall and wide.

“He was working on this,” the man said, gently placing the box on the counter in front of the woman. From her thin stature and the exhaustion lurking in her green eyes, she wasn’t ready to receive whatever it was. But based on what she’d been through recently, she might never be ready.

“What is it?” Yang whispered, creeping closer while Blake teasingly shook her head at yet another question. From their current position, they could only see that the box was black and unmarked. It was actually remarkably plain considering the contents Blake knew it contained.

The woman must have also known what was inside, but she opened the lid anyway - before immediately shutting it and covering her mouth while her eyes filled with tears. The tears quickly became quiet sobs, and the man who’d delivered the unexpected item wrapped her in a hug while she cried.

“It’s ok…” he murmured, rubbing one hand up and down her back while she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry…”

“Oh no…” Yang said, her own expression softening. “What happened?”

"Her husband died recently,” Blake explained, answering the question because she was unsure if the rest of the chapter would make that clear enough. She pointed towards the box, which they still couldn’t see the contents of. “That was left in his workshop."

“Oh…”

The two of them watched in silence as the woman struggled to pull herself back together. Her grief was so palpable that Blake found herself wishing she could fast forward through the moment and spare her heart the sadness, but she’d chosen this chapter knowing full well what would happen.

Even so...some stories were harder to witness than others…

Yang stepped closer, standing near Blake’s side in a way that almost subtly asked for comfort, but eventually the woman’s tears slowed enough that she pulled away and wiped her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, giving her friend a tearful smile before taking two shaky breaths to calm herself. “I figured he would make something like this…”

“It’s finished. I think he was only waiting for -”

“His birthday,” the woman finished with a nod and sad smile as they both looked down the single hallway leading off of the living room. “It’s all he’s been asking for...”

“Do you want me -?” the man offered, gesturing to the box. The woman considered the offer for a second before shaking her head.

“I should do it. He won't see anyone else.”

When the woman lowered her gaze to the ground, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her loss, the man raised one hand to softly touch her cheek.

“Eve…”

“Uh…” Yang immediately said, staring with wide eyes as the woman looked up. Before anything more could happen, the sound of a door slamming made the man drop his hand while the woman looked away and sighed.

“He's having a hard time…” she said as if that explained everything.

“Want me to talk to him?”

“Thank you, but I think it's best if I do.”

From the way the man pursed his lips it appeared that the answer was unsatisfying in some way, but he reluctantly nodded. “If he's ever ready to learn…”

“l know. Thank you, Theo.”

With a soft smile, Theo stepped forward and kissed the top of Eve’s head - a long, lingering kiss that she sighed into before he moved away.

“If you ever need anything, let me know.”

“I will…”

While Eve stared down at the box and Theo left - sending one last glance towards her before disappearing outside - Yang turned around with wide eyes.

“Uh...that was fishy, right?” she said, pointing towards the front door. “That was totally fishy. Something's not right about...that.”

Blake nodded, in agreement with Yang’s conclusion. In person, that interaction was far more telling than it was when written through someone else’s eyes. It was merely a kind gentleman comforting his best friend’s widow...or was it?

Left alone in a house that had once been cheerful but was now far too silent, Eve glanced towards the hallway then down at the treasure in front of her. For a moment she looked like she wanted to open the box again, but instead picked it up and headed to the hall.

"Come on," Blake said, lightly tapping Yang’s elbow before trailing Eve away from the kitchen. Once in the hall, they stopped at one of the closed doors and waited while she quietly knocked.

"What?" came a sullen voice from within.

"Demetri..." she said, "l have something important for you."

When silence was her answer, she took a deep breath before opening the door and walking inside. Blake motioned for Yang to head in first, and they both shuffled into a small room that had a bed, a desk, a dresser, and not much else. But lack of furniture didn’t mean the room was lacking in personality.

Lining the windowsill and the desk were tiny action figures, of sorts, that had been formed from castoff bits of molten metal. The metal scraps would have been garbage to many people, but these small figurines were prized for the works of art they had been extracted from - small tokens that remained in this home when everything else left.

The boy who Eve was speaking to was sitting on his bed, his arms wrapped around his knees while he stared out the tall windows at the other side of the room. He was the spitting image of his mother, with jet black hair and piercing green eyes that were dark with exhaustion. Even when his mom sat on the edge of the bed and placed one hand on his shoulder, he refused to look away from the window. Instead, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed while he suffered through anger, betrayal, and loss.

Watching the interaction unfold, Blake’s heart swelled with compassion for a fictional character who was about to embark upon a painful journey of self-discovery. When she’d read this story the first time, her heart had broken. Watching it play out in front of her eyes, her heart broke even further.

He was just a kid...

"Theo brought this over,” Eve explained, placing the box in front of her son. “Your father…”

The explanation abruptly stopped, as Eve attempted to swallow around the growing lump in her throat. But she’d already said enough for her son to finally turn from the window to the box in front of him. When she motioned for him to open it, however, he just stared.

“Open it,” Yang said to herself, fidgeting while they waited for the young boy to come to a decision. “What is it??”

“Don’t worry, you’ll see soon,” Blake replied, moving a step closer so they could clearly see the box.

Knowing what was inside, Demetri didn’t want to open it. Yet, just like his mom, he needed to see it - he needed to see the last memory his father would ever give him.

Lifting the lid off of the box, he set it aside and stared.

“Wow -” Yang breathed out, taking a step closer. “That’s…”

“Beautiful,” Blake finished, sharing a smile with Yang.

Demetri was feeling the same - albeit with a torrent of other emotions thrown in - while he looked at the sword resting in the box in front of him. It was his father’s finest work - the hilt a jet black that matched Demetri’s hair, with ornate gold etchings serving as accents, and the blade shimmered in the light, its edge sharp and new.

“He only ever wanted the best for you,” Demetri’s mother whispered before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his head. With those words, she stood and hurried out of the room - ducking her head and lifting a hand to her nose as she went.

After Eve’s abrupt exit from the room, Blake and Yang were left to watch Demetri’s reaction on their own. He refused to touch the sword and instead stared down at it for a long time - until his eyes filled with tears.

Blake turned away when she heard Yang clear her throat, but Yang waved one hand while lowering her gaze and wiping at her eyes. "I'm good," she said, taking several deep breaths before finally giving Blake a wavering smile. “I’m good, I just…”

Yang’s words trailed off when Demetri suddenly stood and walked to the window. Straightening one of the many figurines sitting on the windowsill, he paused when a thought occurred to him. Spinning back to his bed, he walked over and looked more thoroughly into the interior of the box. After a few seconds, he gingerly reached inside and pulled out another figurine for his collection.

Holding it up in one hand, he held it up and looked at it closely. Like the sword resting in the box, this figurine had been made far more intricately than the others - because it was, just like the blade, a gift from a father to his only son.

Walking slowly back to the window, Demetri placed the newest action figure at the end of the line of them and turned it until it was just perfect. They might be made from nothing but scraps of metal castoff during the forging of these particular weapons, but they were treasures to him.

Rubbing his eyes and sniffling, Demetri looked out the window and stared at the dark trees beyond.

“Jesus...this is hard…” Yang whispered, taking a shaky breath when Demetri finally turned away from the window and paced the length of his room while in deep thought. From the way he threw glances towards his bed every few seconds, it was easy to tell what decision he was grappling with.

When Yang cleared her throat again, Blake turned away from Demetri.

“It’s a hard chapter…” she said as Yang fixated on Demetri’s pace.

“It is. And it’s just…I understand what he’s going through.” After briefly pausing, Yang shook her head. "My, uh, my adopted mom died...when I was little," she explained, the words immediately making Blake regret this chapter’s inclusion.

"I'm sorry..." she replied, turning her full attention to Yang and reaching out as if there was something she could do to help. “If I’d known -”

“You don’t need to apologize.” After a second of silence, Yang shook her head again. “I don’t know why I just told you that. I guess...you’re just easy to talk to...”

Shrugging her shoulders, Yang then straightened up and smiled. “I wanna know what this kid’s gonna do with that sword though!”

The moment of vulnerability passed quickly, and Blake willingly let it go if only so Yang would smile again. Internally, she was surprised that Yang felt comfortable enough to share that knowledge - although Blake was glad to have received it, even if she wished it wasn’t true. She couldn't fathom losing someone so important so early in life, but it was a stark reminder that life wasn't perfect...even for those who appeared to lead perfect lives.

“You’re about to see,” Blake said, standing a little closer to Yang and nodding towards Demetri.

He’d just stopped in the middle of his pacing and turned back to his bed. The wheels turning in his head were practically visible as he came to a conclusion. Next, in one quick motion, he walked over to the box and pulled out the blade. The instant the weapon was in his hands, the blade lost its plain silver shine and glowed orange like a setting sun. Held within its owner’s grasp, it came to life in a way only his father knew how to create - humming with energy as it cast its radiance throughout the room.

Tears fell from Demetri’s eyes as he looked at the color, but he didn’t drop the weapon. Instead, he clasped it firmly in both hands, closed his eyes, and held the blade carefully up in the air.

“Wow -” was all Yang got out before Demetri lowered the sword and ran to his bedroom door. Yanking it open, he raced into the hall and quickly left the two of them behind.

Yang gave Blake a look of surprise before following the sound of pounding feet leading out of the house towards the back patio. In the space between the house and the trees was a patch of carefully laid stones that locked together to form a perfect square. Torches stood at the corners to provide a small amount of light, but the moon was doing most of that work tonight.

Standing in the center of this space was their character - whose brow was furrowed with deep determination.

“Feet set, arms steady,” Demetri muttered to himself while assuming a fighting stance with the sword clasped in front of him. “Not too high, not too low -”

“Focus on the connection between you and your weapon - it is an extension of you -”

The low voice came from the night sky, surrounding and blanketing them like a thick fog. It was a voice from nowhere, yet everywhere at the same time.

Looking up in search of the person doing the speaking, Yang eventually gave up and laughed.

“You said there wouldn’t be any ghosts.”

“Technically there aren’t -”

“Strike first, but maintain your balance -”

Pointing towards the sky as the voice spoke again, Yang arched one eyebrow. Unable to argue, Blake laughed and nudged Yang’s shoulder so she would watch Demetri take his first swing with his new weapon - it was slow and uncertain, but it was just the first of many.

Dropping his arms when another idea occurred to him, he suddenly ran into the house and left Yang and Blake outside.

“What’s this kid up to now?”

“He’ll be back -”

No sooner had the words left Blake’s mouth did Demetri all but jump back through the door with a small device held in his free hand while the sword still glowed in the other. It took him only a couple minutes to set the device upon the ground, after which it projected a small screen on nothing but air.

The screen showed Demetri’s father - using a similar sword as he went through his own practice, with a young Demetri visible watching from the edge of the video.

Focusing on one particular movement in the film, Demetri then paused the screen and practiced the motion over and over again before moving on to the next. It wasn’t long before he was grunting from exertion, but he didn’t give up. Even as sweat beaded on his young brow, he continued - his sword flashing like fire through the darkness.

“Look,” Blake said, bumping Yang’s elbow and nodding back to the house, where Demetri’s mother was standing at the windows watching with a sad smile. After taking a long look at the woman, Yang met Blake’s eyes.

“Must be bittersweet for -”

Yang’s words cut off when the light suddenly shifted. Without warning, the sun popped into the air and layered the clearing in sunlight. Demetri was still practicing, his movements becoming more and more fluid as the sun quickly fell and the moon appeared once again.

“Uh, woah,” Yang said, looking up at the moon - where the sun had just been.

“Time is passing,” Blake explained, walking closer to Demetri, but giving him a wide berth as he trained.

While she knew that she couldn't be hurt by the blade, innate caution still won out and she avoided the range of his swings. Slowing moving around him, Blake caught Yang’s eyes as the sun rose and set over and over again - a rapid progression that her eyes could hardly grow accustomed to before it changed.

In this flashing timeline, Demetri began to age and, as he did so, his movements became more purposeful and powerful. His determination grew, his expression hardened. As night and day fell by the wayside, he turned into a young man - not yet out of his teens, but tall and lean with muscle.

The sun froze in the sky when he dropped his sword on the ground and rubbed at his calloused hands. Hearing steps on the porch, Yang turned towards the house as Demetri’s mother stepped outside. Eve was older now, and far more world-worn than she had been before.

“You know that Theo will help you train if you’d like,” she offered. With Demetri’s back towards her, she couldn't see the way his jaw set at the man's name.

"l don't need his help," he grumbled, picking up the sword and starting over. His mom watched, pain in her eyes, before solemnly nodding and walking inside.

More time passed - the sun and moon continued to rise and fall from the sky - and Demetri grew even taller, even stronger. The projector on the ground flew through every video he still possessed of his father. Each one was dissected, repeated, and perfected.

“This is so cool…” Yang said, looking around as the trees were bathed in light, then plunged into darkness. The torches were lit, then extinguished. And through it all, Demetri trained on his own.

The sun froze just over the horizon, caught in the early morning as the moon had just barely bid adieu. Another video was playing, but this time Demetri was practicing in perfect step with the image on the screen. Every motion his father made, he could replicate - and he could complete the entire routine without looking at the screen.

“Demetri -”

The three of them turned in unison towards the soft voice.

“There's someone here to see you,” Eve said, beckoning her son inside before heading through the door. Visible through the glass were two men waiting by the front door, both wearing the same dark uniform while one clutched a briefcase in both hands.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Demetri wiped his brow and placed the sword on his side. Once out of his hands, the orange glow faded away and left nothing but normal steel glinting in the light.

“That’s probably not good…” Yang said as Demetri walked into the house and faded from view just inside the door. “Wait - that's it?” she exclaimed. “But who came to see him? Who were those guys??”

“That's what the rest of the story is for…”

At first disgruntled, Yang eventually sighed at Blake's answer. “Can I borrow these books from you? I need to know how all these stories turn out…”

“Do you really want to read them?”

“Yeah, of course! Why’s that so surprising?”

Because Yang was pretty and popular, Blake hadn’t expected her to have any interest in more intellectual activities like reading for fun. Apparently, that was a wrong assumption to make.

“I thought you’d be too busy to read,” Blake replied, opting for a half-truth.

“And I thought that whenever I saw you reading, you were actually reading,” Yang replied with a laugh. “Guess we’ve got lots to learn about each other, huh?”

The idea wasn’t at all daunting - it was exciting. And they had five more chapters over which they could do just that.

Nodding in agreement, Blake noticed that the serene sound of rustling leaves was replaced by wind whistling across a wide-open plain. The lush green trees grew sparse and bare. The patio, which had been interlocked grey stones before, was now dirt covered with a thick layer of snow.

“Jeez, between the sun and moon dropping out of the sky and random changes in seasons, how do you keep track of what day it is?” Yang asked, stomping one foot on the snow.

“That’s what they make calendars for, isn’t it?”

Immediately picking up on the joke, Yang shook her head and chuckled.

“You’re a sharp one, aren’t you?” she said, a playful glint in her eyes. “I’m gonna have to keep my eye on you.”

Blushing at the comment, Blake looked around the winter wonderland instead of locking eyes with Yang - finding that the playful lilac caused her heart to dance a little too much.

“Are you ready for chapter three?” she asked, locating familiar landmarks and getting her bearings in order - not that there was much to see in this expanse of snow-covered farmland.

“You know it!” Yang answered. “I mean, unless there are ghosts or dragons. But...you’ll give me a heads up, won’t you?”

The question only made Blake smile and shrug one shoulder.

“I guess we’ll have to see what happens, won’t we?”

Hearing Yang laugh at the teasing response, Blake smiled and walked towards their next chapter.