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I retain the name of Abigail Bishop. I love my name. I am also particularly fond of words. Whether they're written, spoken, or thought, I cannot contain the excitement they bring me.

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Happy writing!


June 10, 2018

    An array of kaleidoscopic children rested in an upright position, feet obscured by stone. Their charcoal, unblinking eyes bore an unfocused look.
    Marsjon sat on the grimy ground, waiting for the young ones to awaken. Deep within the field, he spotted a pair of alert eyes. Baffled, the old Tjante rose to investigate the watchful orbs.
    Marsjon wedged himself through the gaps between the slumbering children. Within seconds, he found a face to match the eyes. The youth had lightly bronzed skin that was unlike any color he’d seen before. Its eyes were brown, instead of grey. Even more unsettling, something grew atop its head.
    Marsjon knew that this was no budding Tjanti. Its colors were too far off and features too sharp and distinctive. As confirmation, the boy sat on the blackened ground. Not to mention, it was shivering. Marsjon felt sympathy for this critter.
    “Are you okay?” he called out to the odd youngling. It shook its head in response.
    “How did you get here?” Marsjon waited, receiving no response. “Do you at least have a name?” he tried.
    The boy sat still, face scrunched up in thought. After a great amount of time, he finally responded “Merrick.”

~56 Earth years later~

    "Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a peculiar man, whose appearance was a lot like my own," Merrick began, gesturing at his human features. "He went by the name of Bavol for he would travel through many different lands as if he were a gust of wind. Some might say he was adventurous and longed to explore. Others knew that he was only running from his past."
    Atop the bench of stone, which Merrick sat, he examined the colorful faces of the children. Their normally dull eyes were lit with curiosity. A Tjanti of pale yellow skin spoke up.
    "What did he do?" Rijel asked. Merrick sent a smile to his listeners.
    "Bavol hurt someone very important to him. Many years before, he met a woman, Aris. From the moment they first met, they knew their destinies were intertwined. In a short while, Aris began living with Bavol and they were both filled with a great warmth. 
    "Although, one day, an old man with a rickety back and a raspy voice presented himself to Bavol. The stranger spoke of a mystical object that could fill all of Bavol's dreams. Bavol wished for a son and this object would be his only way to get one. You see, children were spawned differently for his species. In his case, he was unable to have children. 
    "In determination, Bavol set out to find this mystical object. He underwent great trials of strength. However, his greatest trial was within his head. Bavol knew that there would be some kind of exchange. He would have to sacrifice something in order to fulfill his dreams. Bavol wished not to worry and retrieved the object without hesitation. When he returned home, he found the son he wished for. Much to his surprise, Bavol also found Aris laying in the other room, lifeless."
    A gasp sounded and Merrick looked towards its source. He found a Tjante of bright pink skin clutching her mouth in horror. Next to her was a Tjante of a darker shade. Merrick rose to address the overseers.
    "I wasn't aware the Great Council would be sending anyone today," Merrick informed. The eyes of his two superiors flashed with anger.
    "There have been reports of Tjanti children with fantastical ideas in their heads. It is clear to see where they've been coming from," the darker one barked. "Where is the old Tjante who runs this farmstead?"
    Merrick was pained as he realized their intentions. "It is completely my fault. Don't punish Marsjon."
    The brighter one pointed at Marsjon's distant figure. "There he is, Father," she said in an uninterested voice.
    The elder overseer snapped at his apprentice, "Restrain the old man!" She ran to do so. Once she brought the farmer closer, her mentor took menacing steps towards Marsjon. "What do you have to say about yourself?" he spat.
    Marsjon looked bewildered, unaware of what was happening. "Vjarf? I don't understand," the old farmer wheezed.
    "That alien you've taken in is ruining the minds of impressionable Tjanti children under your supervision!"
    Marsjon was prepared to defend Merrick, but the overseer slapped him before he could form the words. More hits began to roll in. Marsjon coughed and sputtered and Merrick couldn't do anything. He stood there, watching the beloved old Tjante receive blows that should've been directed towards Merrick. When it was over, the elderly Tjante laid on the ground, devoid of strength. The overseers had already left.
    Merrick lowered himself near his friend. "I'm sorry, Marsjon," he whispered in sadness. The old Tjante attempted to shake his head, with no success.
    "You need to be more careful, boy." 
    Merrick nodded in agreement.


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