She stared up at the sky, taking in a stars glittering above her. The cool summer breeze brushed across her skin, and she shivered. It was a marked contrast to the heat of the day, but that was why she loved it. She took a breath, relishing the scent of the evening air. It smelled like the earth, like plants, and it held a crispness that only cool air has, married with the sweet smell of rain, just beyond her reach. The smoke from a campfire nearby drifted past, bringing all four elements together in one smell. Maybe that was why she cherished evenings outside, she thought. It often brought together the four elements, it brought balance in a world so regularly off-kilter.

She listened to the rustling of the trees, tracking the movement of the wind by which trees she heard whispering to her. The cry of birds echoed softly, and crickets chirped in the grass. She closed her eyes, letting the sounds and smells and sensations wash over her. This was when she felt most connected to the world, most at peace. Standing outside at dusk, or just after nightfall, as her world went to sleep and another woke up. She felt a stillness at this time, her heart felt full. She could wash away her day, her life, her mind, and just be, just enjoy the experience of existing without other thoughts cluttering her brain.

It was a beautiful feeling, but also a painful one. It caused her to want more from her life. She wanted to feel this way more, she wanted to share this feeling with someone who would understand it, understand her. The longing hit her hard. And part of her wanted to tear away, to go back inside, to escape the pleasure-pain. To forget that this is what she wanted, because she feared she would never get it. But she tried to quiet her mind, to let the hurt and the joy move through her equally. Without one, there can’t really be the other, right?

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

“So,” Cody said, stabbing a meatball with her fork, “how was your day?”

Lexi glared at her over a wineglass.

“What?” Cody asked, her mouth full.

“First of all,” Lexi said, twirling pasta around her fork, “don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s gross. And second,” she continued, ignoring Cody’s grin, “I thought we agreed not to talk about work over dinner?”

“Work?” Cody asked, a sly smile crossing her face. “Who said anything about work? I was wondering about a certain someone we both know.”

“B-Blair?” Maeve’s voice shook as she stared down the barrel of a pistol.

“Surprise,” Blair said, smirking.

“I-I don’t understand,” Maeve stammered. “What are you d-doing? I thought-”

Blair sneered. “You thought, what, that you could trust me? That we were on the same side?”

Maeve nodded weakly, and Blair laughed.

“Whatever made you think that?”

“You do realize that time is a human construct, right?” Liza said as she leisurely put on her jacket.

“What?” Carson almost toppled over while trying to pull on his sneaker.

“Time’s a construct,” Liza said again, sitting down to lace up her boots.

“I heard you,” he grunted, grabbing his coat from the rack. “What do you mean, though?”

“Well, I mean that the way we measure time – minutes, hours, years, centuries – it’s all made up. It’s something humans created to organize and keep track of stuff. Nature doesn’t do things in seconds or years, at least they don’t keep track of them the same way we do.”

“Wait, you’re saying time is fake?”

“It’s not fake. We still experience time, we still move through it,” Liza sighed, shaking her head. “It just means that the measurement of time is an illusion. Ever notice how an hour can fly by, but a minute can feel like forever?” She shrugged. “It’s because the unit of ‘hour’ or ‘minute’ doesn’t actually exist. That’s why the experience of it isn’t standard.”

Carson’s foot was tapping as he checked his watch. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean we won’t miss the beginning of the movie. Will you hurry up already?”

“Yeah, okay.”

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

“I don’t expect you to understand, you know. No one ever did. Maybe no one ever will. But then again, maybe I’m not as special as I think I am. Do we ever really know anyone? We think we do, we think we can put people into neat, understandable little boxes, categorize and codify and compartmentalize, but in the end, we’re all mysteries, aren’t we? Doomed to move through the world, trapped in our own heads, with only ourselves for company.

“Of course, some of us would act out. Would feel the need to be seen, to be heard, to be understood. To not be lost, adrift, floating alone through this scary world. To stand out, to be special, not just fall in line and do what we’re told. And then what happens when that doesn’t work, when we try and try and try, and are perpetually disappointed? Maybe some people have more hope, more patience, than I do. Maybe others lash out, blame the world for their problems. Or maybe, like me, they decide, fuck it. I’m going to do something. I’m going to be seen. And woe to anyone who gets in my way.”

She leaned forward, the handcuffs chaining her to the table clinking in the quiet room. She grinned at the agents sitting across from her, mocking their solemn faces, their ironed suits and shiny badges.

“You really think you have anything on me? You’re not going to find them.” She lounged back in the metal chair, her smile loose and relaxed. “I’ve come to terms with who I am. I don’t need to explain myself, or be validated, or prove I’m better than you.” She shrugged. “I already know I am.”

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

“Ah ha! Got it! Told you I would. You owe me a drink.” Albert the Rouge dropped a very large broach on the table in front of Leila. She barely looked up at him, gaze focused on the jewels glittering in the tavern’s candlelight.

“Are you quite insane?” she asked, voice smooth.

“What?”

She gestured around them, to the rather rough crowd drinking and singing bawdy songs. “Because you must be insane to be flashing this around, in a place like this.” She scooped up the broach, giving it a quick look-over before tucking it into her pocket.

“Ten more minutes should do it,” June said, resetting the timer and flopping down next to Marcie on the couch.

“Why is it that everything always takes longer than the instructions say?” Marcie asked, sighing.

“No idea. Guess that’s just our luck, huh?” June said, scratching her neck. “Maybe we have different appliances? Or because we substituted a few ingredients?”

“I guess. I can smell it now.”

“Yeah, that means it’s close.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their thoughts.

June sighed again. “I guess I should have realized it would take a long time to dissolve a body, no matter what the internet said.”

“As long as it works, right? Doesn’t have to be correct or fast. Just,” Marcie shrugged, “done.”

“I saw a different recipe that also looked good,” June said. “You know, if we have to do this again.”

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

He was not having a good day. He leg was killing him, he was overdue on rent, and the bartender had just cut him off. He stared at the bar, his head weighing heavily in his hands. How had he come to this? After a decade in the military, they cut him off, just because he was deaf in his left ear, just because it had taken five months of physical therapy to walk again, just because he was a little twitchy in the Humvees. Oh, they talked about how it was honorable, about how he had served his country, but it was still rejection. He’d joined up when he was 18; what was he supposed to do now?

He noticed someone sidle up to the bar next to him, but ignored them. He was too lost in his own misery. He did look up when that person leaned in closer, then slapped him on the back.

“Hey, Kendrick, right? It’s been what, four years?”

He jumped, lurching half-way off his stool.

“Whoa there,” the voice said, grabbing his arm and pulling him back upright with ease. “Been here long, have you?”

She gasped for air, sweat trickling down her face. Her muscles burned, and she didn’t know how much longer she could go on.

“That’s it, two more!”

Casey groaned. “Omar. I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You,” she panted, arms screaming as she lifted the barbell one last time.

“C’mon,” he said, grinning. “You don’t mean that.” He made sure she got the barbell safely racked, then checked something off on his clipboard.

“I really do,” she said, dropping her arms. “Once I can lift my arms again, you are toast.”

“You do realize,” Imperia said, pushing past Brian to enter the house, wrinkling her nose slightly at the smell, “that we made up all those legends.”

“Wh-wh-wh… You ca-ca-can’t do-o-o that,” Brian gasped, staring back at his front door in shock. “I didn’t inv-v-vite you i-i-in.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Imperia huffed. “We made all that up, so you couldn’t track us down.” She smirked. “It’s easy to hide in plain sight when you know what your enemy is looking for.”

Brian just gaped at her.