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  Kenneth Lawson
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February 12th, 2023

2/12/2023

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As I stopped in front of the house I grew up in, I wondered what had changed besides myself. I noticed right away that some things hadn’t changed. The big brick mailbox pillar that sat too close to the driveway still bore the chips when I had almost plowed into it one late night after too much partying. I knew it still held my secret because if found, it would have been on the news for a week. 

I tried my old key, and to my surprise, it worked. It amazes me that people don’t change the locks even when resold several times since I lived there. I watched the current occupants load their car with suitcases and drive away. Brazenly, I entered. 

 The inside was both comforting and terrifying at the same time. While the rooms looked much the same, the furniture and decor were jarring and not to my taste. Someone remodeled the kitchen. The French door fridge stood where the lime green top freezer had in my day. They ‘adjusted’ the cabinets to make them fit. I didn’t mind as I’d done the same. In the living room, a large flat-screen television, the size of a movie screen, hung on the wall, replacing the small cabinet TV from my day. 

My bedroom had been at the end of the hall, past the main bathroom. A glance in the bathroom revealed it hadn’t changed. The ugly green tiles covering most of the wall behind the sink and the shower were still there. The house was still its old ninety-seventies self, just slightly freshened up.

I stood in the doorway to my old room. I had to return one last time, even after all these decades. I was going mad, not knowing if she was still there. Memories of that fateful moment when I lost control flashed in my mind as I relived it again. 

We’d been home alone. No one knew she was here, and no one ever did. She was gone when my family got home late that evening. The next day a missing person alert went out when she never came home. She couldn’t. It had been hard burial work, but I had hidden her in the crawl space far away from the plumbing or electrical, where no one would have to go. I let the search for her play out and never said a word. The posters all over town had always made me cry inside, but they never found her. 

I had to know she was still there. I’m too old and lame to crawl in the crawlspace these days, so I brought my metal detector. I knew she still had her braces on when she died. I figured the detector might pick them up. Then I would know she was still resting in her corner of the house. Sliding the bed away from the wall in my old room, I turned on the detector and began to scan the floor. The nails and other metal in the frame of the house showed up at first.

But eventually, I found the remains of her braces. It showed up on the screen on the detector. Satisfied that she was still resting where I laid her, I put everything back as I’d found it and wiped down anything I had touched as I retraced my steps.

Back in my car parked across the street, I reached over and kissed her twin sister, Mabel, and nodded yes. She smiled as I started the car and drove away. We were still safe.

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November 27th, 2022

11/27/2022

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I remember her collection of copper teapots glinting in the sunlight from the double windows. The sun would make brilliant reflections off them in the afternoon light. Once in a while, she’d select one from the collection, and I would watch in fascination as she poured water into it and set it on her antique stove to boil. 

Everything had to be just so. The steam would start to rise from the pour spout, and the sound of water boiling would fill her small apartment. The teabags seeped in a small china cup just so long, occasionally stirring to bring out more flavor. We’d sit in the afternoon sun by the French doors to her small patio and sip tea. She’d tell me stories about her life, her adventures, and the people she’d met.

I shook my head to clear those days from my mind, days that I treasured. Now the teapots were only a reminder of her. The small apartment still smelled of perfume, and her little keepsakes cluttered the shelves. I found an old photo album. Sitting on her bed, I reverently opened the album. I had known she’d lived in this apartment forever, but seeing old black-and-white pictures of it and a much younger version of her still surprised me.

In one photo, I recognized one of the teapots. The date scribbled in the margin of the page told me it was from the 1940s. The apartment seemed much bigger in the pictures, probably because she had yet to collect the items that filled the space now. Another picture was a close-up of her face. She seemed to radiate in the warmth and love I’d known her for even then. Leafing through the pages, I noted as the years went on how she changed as she grew older, and the collection of teapots increased as the images became color and better quality.

She favored the French doors opening onto a small balcony as a photo backdrop. Carrying the book, I stood in the same spot as she’d stood in many photos and looked out over the city from the small balcony.

Turning around, I noted the cluttered room filled with furniture, knickknacks, and pictures on the walls. The room’s main focus was the large sideboard where her collection of teapots sat on a white linen cloth., positioned so that the afternoon sun would reflect off their shiny surface. Festive blades of light darted deep into the room.  

I flipped through the pictures again, and one caught my eye. In the background behind her, I could barely make out the Eiffel Tower. Scanning the horizon, I spotted the infamous tower in the distance. At least some things hadn’t changed.

My wife and I were in Paris to say goodbye to my favorite aunt, who had raised me and saved my life many times. In the coming days, we had the task of packing her memories and mementos. As we left for the funeral, I glanced at the teapots, which glinted in the afternoon sun. 

There was no question the teapots were coming home with me.

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October 23rd, 2022

10/23/2022

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Through the murky mist, a ghoulish cackle sounded, echoing across the forest. As the echo died, Paul could hear heavy breathing coming from the ravine. Something moved about in the fog and dampness of the forest. 

He stood in the middle of the path near the ravine listening for more sounds to guide him. He knew the woods well, but it was impossible to tell exactly where he was at night in the fog. 

“I didn’t think you’d come.” The voice was disembodied, coming from deep in the fog toward the ravine.

Paul turned toward the voice. “You said you needed help.” There was a loud snort, and the fog over the ravine abruptly moved, causing Paul to shiver.

The woods had always been creepy and mysterious, and few people ventured into them. There were reports over the years of people never returning after they entered the woods. But Paul had always been drawn to the woods and, in recent years, found himself spending more time there than he did in town, leading to his being labeled as a village outcast.

It had been many years since the strange orange glow in the mist. Curious about the light,  Paul found what appeared to be an egg in a small clearing in the deep woods. Its large size and round shape made him believe it was from another world altogether. He dared not to bring it home, so he hid it in his camp. When he returned several days later, he found it had opened and was empty. It didn’t take long for him to locate the creature that came from the egg. 

Paul and the scaly humanoid known as Argon learned to communicate. Fearing what would happen to them if the locals discovered them, Paul kept his existence a secret. These days they rarely met as Argon had become self-sufficient and wise to his new world. On the rare times when Paul could spend time with him, Argon expressed a longing to return to his home. Paul understood that. There had been many times when he’d longed to return to a much earlier and simpler time. 

 The humanoid dragon-like creature had grown to a size that made it increasingly challenging to hide in the deep woods, and he had increased his range, sometimes coming dangerously close to nearby towns.

“Argon, you must leave the woods. It is no longer safe for you.”

A large leatherlike face emerged from the fog over the ravine. Argon’s hot breath warmed Paul. Argon snorted. A stream of fire jetted from his nose and vanished quickly, leaving only a thin wisp of smoke and a neat circle of burned ground next to Paul. 

“You’ve been spotted. The villagers are talking about forming a hunting party.” 

Argon nodded, “I know. I saw them.”

“The fools will kill you if they get the chance.”

“And you. If they find you knew about me all along.” 

They stood in silence for a few minutes. Neither wanted to say what was on their mind.

“We could introduce you to them on our terms,” Paul suggested almost innocently.

Argon flashed his version of a smile, baring his sharp teeth. “I think it is time for your kind to learn o
f mine.”

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October 09th, 2022

10/9/2022

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​The carved pumpkins appeared overnight throughout the city. There had been legends of mysterious pumpkins randomly showing up for decades. Most people just put it down to a tall tale told by kids and old folks to lighten up a late night. According to the stories, anyone who found a pumpkin at their doorstep could expect various bad things to happen to them. But no one believed it.

Over the last few years, they have shown up occasionally, but no one paid them any mind. No one connected the pumpkins to the fact that the person who found them was soon dead or nearly dead under unusual or questionable circumstances.

This morning, the talk was about the most recent pumpkins, who left them, and why. Most people either put a candle in them or left them on the porch for decoration. A few old-timers remembered the old stories, but no one paid them any mind. Paul Quinn didn’t have a pumpkin on his doorstep this time, but his elderly neighbor, Jake, did. 

Curious and generally nosey, Paul wondered if the old tales were true. He spent several hours in the library, reviewing back issues of the local newspapers, and talked with the pretty file clerk at the courthouse who had gotten him access to the dead files. 

In the dead files, he found several crime scene photos of different victims that showed a pumpkin near the front door, but there was no mention of a pumpkin in any of the reports. He also noted that none of the cases were solved or resolved. 

The stories must be true, but what did this mean now? He pondered as he prepared for a date with Lucy, the file clerk from the courthouse. She didn’t have a pumpkin, so he felt reasonably safe going out with her.

Over the next few days, the old stories played out again. Repeatedly the police investigated several mysterious deaths or injuries. Those injured couldn’t explain what had happened. One minute, they were going about their usual routines when they found themselves bleeding profusely or deathly ill. The police and medical authorities were unable to explain or control it.

Knowing his elderly neighbor, Jake had found a pumpkin by his door and ignored it. Paul kept an eye on him, determined to find out what was happening. Three days later, Paul discovered what had happened to the others. 

Lucy found both Jake’s and Paul’s bodies the following day.

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September 18th, 2022

9/18/2022

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He hoped the electric skies beyond the bay didn’t foreshadow what might come. It had been quiet around the bay for some time. But Raymond knew that the skies would open up soon, and the fury of their neighbors would reign down upon the town—or it could be just a thunderstorm. 

Either way, Raymond was not happy. A thunderstorm meant people would be stuck inside his hotel, crowding the bars and public spaces. However, if their northern neighbors were getting ready to do what they had threatened to do for decades, they were all in trouble.

The land to the north was a dense forest inhabited by a species from another planet. They had settled on the planet eons ago, and over time, the two factions had learned to live with one another in guarded peace. There had been friction caused as the differences in their way of living had been magnified in the last few hundred years. The loud, boisterous humans lived with little regard for the damage they were doing to the planet. 

Legend said they would soon send the humans a message they could not ignore. He’d seen what they were capable of before when he had lived with them years ago. The tall steel buildings and cities were no match for their power. People would die and property destroyed. Raymond knew he had to broker peace between the village and them.

Slipping out the back exit of the hotel, he took a little used path around the bay, hoping he could make it in time. There was no moon to guide him, but he knew the way well. Entering a clearing, he found the structures among the trees simple-looking but deceptively complex in their structure and functions. The light flittered through the windows was an eerie yellow—casting shadows on the surrounding objects. 

Raymond’s heart thumped in his chest, and he willed his heart to slow down as Darthmoore stepped from a shadow upon seeing Raymond. They stared at each other. Raymond’s six-foot-tall figure cast a long shadow across Darthmoore’s short, squat body, covered in a mix of scales and long thick fur. 

“I knew you come.” Darthmoore approached Raymond, holding out a thin boney three-fingered hand. They shook.

“How have you been?” 

“Pretty good, It’s been too long.” They ignored the obvious topic of discussion and sat on a bench near one of the buildings. The yellow light from the windows made the drinks they held look even more foreign. 

“You know what happening?” Darthmoore finely broke the prolonged silence punctuated by their sipping their drinks. Raymond nodded between sips. It had been too long since he’d had their special ale.

 “There must be some way to stop it.”

“No, not this time, We have repeatedly warned your people that they were destroying their world—our world. They chose not to listen.”

Raymond sighed. “Destroying entire villages seems counter-productive.”

Darthmoore nodded in agreement. “I understand, but it is out of my hands. The Council has ordered it done.”

As they watched, the sky over the bay lit up, throwing light and fire deep into the night. 

 It was happening.

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September 04th, 2022

9/4/2022

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​The sun was setting in when I arrived in Key Largo to meet my fate. The cool breeze blowing in from the water made me shiver as I surveyed the docks jetting out from the shore. It had been centuries since I’d been here. The last time was about 1715, during the hurricane that caused much damage to the islands. Two Spanish ships sank during the hurricane, and I had been attempting to salvage the sunken cargo on one of the ships.

Now over three hundred years later, I was back. I was currently on assignment working with NASA, who did not know of my alien origin or that I could time travel. While I was on Earth assignment again, I discovered someone related to a woman I cared deeply about during my first assignment was in trouble. I had to help. 

Once covered in scrub palmetto and mangroves, the island was now covered with businesses, restaurants, hotels, and marinas. My destination was a marina, and as I arrived, a lone figure walked toward me from the docks. She ambled towards me with the ease of someone used to walking on unsteady boats. Her firefly red hair glinted from under the captain hat she wore pulled down low over her face.

“Jarvis? Captain Jarvis?” She held out her hand as she reached me. I nodded and shook her hand—It was firm.

“You said you had a map with the location of the last two Spanish ships that went down in the 1715 hurricane?” I nodded. She turned. “Then get on board.”

 I knew her history better than anyone. Deidre didn’t know I had been keeping track of her family since the 1600s when I met her great-great, several times over grandmother and namesake. Having followed the sea-faring family all those years, I knew that times were hard for them. The fishing business had become a tourist business, and even that wasn’t doing as good as it should. A little research told me they were deeply in debt and about to lose their fleet of sport fishing boats. So, I made some inquiries to find her. I told her I possessed a diary containing the name of her ancestor and the coordinates to a shipwreck filled with gold and that it belonged to her.

Standing on the deck of Deidre’s fifty-foot Bertram sport fisherman, I gave her the coordinates of the Spanish ship that went down. The mate untied the ropes from the dock cleats, and Deidre eased the boat from the dock, heading into the open ocean. After two hours at sea, we arrived at our destination.

Deidre put on scuba gear. “You’re sure about this? I nodded, and she rolled backward over the gunwale into the water and sank out of sight.

Fifteen minutes later, she surfaced, holding a gold coin above her head. The grin on her face said it all.

I helped Deidre, and a salvage crew retrieve the treasure from the sunken galleon. The family I had watched over for so long was now financially secure. It was the least I could do for this Captain Deidre. After all, she was descended from the daughter of the fiery red-headed woman I loved so many centuries ago and her pirate father—me. 

My daughter.

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August 28th, 2022

8/28/2022

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​Equipment lumbered across the moon’s surface as I watched, excited that the base was finally under construction. Standing on a rise not far from the actual site of the future station, I thought back on the many years I had been on Earth on my first mission here.

While the mission to secure water for planets in our system failed, I gained a new insight into the workings of the Earth. Since returning, my mission has been to help Earth’s people to reach space in a meaningful way. I entered the space program and trained to become an astronaut. I was more than qualified. I was already a spaceship captain, but I enjoyed the experience and learned a thing or two. 

I glanced at the array of solar panels that ringed the research site on the moon—each connected to several large energy cells that would power the entire operation. I had to laugh as I lumbered around in a bulky space suit. Earthlings were far more delicate than my species of humans, and special equipment was needed so they could survive in space. Millions of years of living in harsh conditions had made us hardy and capable of living on worlds with thin atmospheres, but even we needed some support on the airless moon. 

The construction of the first dome was progressing nicely. I watched as the Earthlings put the finishing touches on clearing for the first building. A figure approached me from the far left. I recognized the suit as belonging to Jennifer, one of the top scientists on the project. No space helmet could hide the mop of red hair floating inside. I had been close to Jennifer back on Earth and nearly confided in her about who I was, but training kicked in, and I decided against it   
 
My earphone buzzed with her voice. “Captain Jarvis, They’re ready for you now.” She pointed to the clearing.

It was time to oversee the setting of the first building and officially start the first station on the moon. I paused for a moment and glanced at the red button on my spacesuit’s control panel. I felt what I had felt at the end of my first assignment on Earth. Doubt. 

I had final authority from the Space Council to terminate the project if I thought humans were not ready to leave Earth to explore space. On the surface, it looked like they were. They had the technology, but did they have the advanced maturity? They continued to wage war and had little concern for the environment. I knew in my heart and my mind they were not ready.

I reached to press the button, which would detonate the explosives I had hidden and destroy the base. I looked over at Jennifer, who I loved as much as I had Deidre back in 1638, and decided.

Instead of the red button, I engaged my com for all to hear. “Commence construction. Let’s get this base built.” 

Whatever happens with the Earthlings, I decided I wanted to be a part of it. Besides, I always did love redheads.

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July 17th, 2022

7/17/2022

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Sunday Story  7-17-2022

It was the last party of the summer, and no one would ever forget that weekend. We were “The Gang of Three.” That’s what most folks called us—all for one and one for all.

Shelby, Peter, and me, Ryan. We grew up together in Hickstown, USA. There used to be more of us, but life happened, and folks moved on, taking their kids with them. 

Weekend summer parties were always a thing, but the parties got further apart as I worked in my dad’s grocery store and college for Shelby and Peter next fall. We knew the next bash would be our last.

We’d decided that the most appropriate place for our last party was the old swimming hole, where we had our first gathering at age twelve.

The fishing hut was still there, so I stashed the cooler cases of beer and food under the shade and finished clearing off the old rickety dock. Safe enough if you were careful and sober, which I doubt any of us would be soon.

We asked Becky and Lynn, who hung around with us in the early days, to join us. Becky arrived first, wearing a floppy hat to tame her wild red mane. I still had dreams about her and that hair.

Becky and I cleaned up the rest of the area and set out the folding chairs we found in the fishing hut. Shelby and Peter showed up around noon, followed by Lynn. She said she almost didn’t come but decided what the heck. 

I hadn’t seen Lynn in a couple of years since she transferred to a different high school, but one look brought back memories of a night at the swimming hole. One night, we never talked about again. 

Soon the beer was flowing, and the food consumed. Talk ranged from hijinks of our youth to stories about our families until we fell silent. Each of us was afraid to say what was on our minds.

Old Man Harper. He’d disappeared without a trace five years ago. I glanced at Shelby and Peter. 

“Harper.” There I’d said it. 

We knew what had happened to him. Peter played with his beer bottle, not looking up, and Becky and Lynn glanced at each other.

Peter sighed. “We should tell.”

“It’s been five years. No one remembers him.” Shelby glared at Peter, then me.

“His son mentions him every time he stops at the grocery. Lots of people wonder about what really happened to him.”

“Will they believe us?” Becky took another swallow to build her strength.

“Hell. I don’t know. It was self-defense. He was going to….” Shelby looked at Lynn.

 “Maybe anonymous call to say where he’s at,” Becky suggested.

“That could’ve worked then, but now, they can trace anything.” Peter held up his phone.

“A letter?”  

“Hell no, can be traced too.”

Shelby shook his head. “We need to tell the police that Harper attacked Lynn and Ryan and that we arrived in time to stop it, and Harper fell into the lake and drowned.”

I found some twigs, and we drew straws. One of us would tell. 

The following morning, I went to the police station to confess what happe


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April 10th, 2022

4/10/2022

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​​The old gazebo held so many memories for me. I remember the band playing on July Fourth, Labor Day, and weekends. As the sounds returned to me, my mind’s eye could see Rachel and her red hair flying in the summer winds like the flag above us. 

 I settled back in my car seat and let memories flood my mind. Most were pleasant, at least where Rachal was concerned. The backfire of a car down the street brought back another jarring memory. The reason I was here.

It had been decades since I’d spent summers with Racheal and the old gang—Morgan, Rachal, JoAnn, and me. Morgan never stopped trying to make a buck, and he didn’t care how legal it was. I’d bailed him out of a mess, which should have gotten him killed. 

It’s hard to believe that there were killers among us in a small southern town like Lakewood. The kind that buries bodies in the woods and never blinks an eye.

I should know. I was one of them.

Morgan owed some gamblers and loan sharks a lot of money. I acted as a go-between and bought him more time to pay off the debt, but they wouldn’t wait. One night, I was at the gazebo with Rachel and Morgan. We’d been to the movies and stopped to sit under the stars for a spell before heading home. They came looking for Morgan. 

 People reported what sounded like gunshots late that night. The police never found anything, except for a random bloodstain on the gazebo’s steps.

Now decades later, I was back to collect the debt Morgan owed me. Rachael left town not long after the incident, but Morgan had stayed and gone legit and now owned the largest lumber yard in the county. It was worth a small fortune, which was a lot in this poor county.

I met Morgan on the steps of the gazebo. The bloodstains from that night had long ago faded by weather and years of foot traffic, but I knew where they were.

Morgan shook my hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Same here.”

“You said you need my help?”

“Yes. I have more bodies to be buried.” I gestured toward my car.

“You drove into town in broad daylight with a body in your car?!”

“No choice. I can’t bury him near me. The cops would find him.”

“Who is he?”  Morgan calmed down a bit.

“No need for you to know. Let’s say, a certain businessman from the city has disappeared without a trace.”  

He looked at the car, then at me. “You killed him?’

“I’ve killed a lot of people over the years. Seems I’m pretty good at it, and the pay is good. For this guy, it was personal. He knew about the guys I “disappeared” years ago. He started asking questions that would have led back to you and the men I killed for you. So….”

“So, you….?”

I nodded. 

Morgan swallowed hard and thought for a minute. “We recently logged and replanted an area deep in the woods. No one will be going back there for at least thirty years.”

I smiled. I knew Morgan would help because he owed me. I smiled. 

“Lead the way.”

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March 21st, 2022

3/21/2022

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​Shock spread through the village as the frosty fog lifted, revealing a castle that wasn’t there the day before. The thunderstorms had been unusually severe the night before, and lightning had blanketed the valley. Many villagers remembered being woken up by several loud blasts of thunder and the shaking of their small abodes. Reports of pots broken from falling off shelves and broken windows came in from all over. 

But no one had expected to find a castle on the hill overlooking their valley.

Rumors spread quickly about the new addition to the mountain. Hushed conversations and outright shouting matches were the order of the morning throughout the village. Finally, the villagers agreed someone had to go to the castle and investigate.

Sir Randall Pike stepped up and offered to venture up the mountain to explore the castle. Armed with the best sword and lance in the village, he mounted his steed, a gray mare that had been battle-tested, and left the village. The trail up the mountain was rough, and the trek slow and treacherous.

 When he arrived, he noted that the castle looked like it had been there for centuries. The path to the gate was well worn from use. How could this be? The structure didn’t exist yesterday. 

 To his shock, the gates swung open he approached. He hesitated but slowly passed through the opening. Inside the courtyard lay mounds of debris, carts, and tools, cast about haphazardly. No one else seemed to be about, and nudging his horse, he rode into the courtyard toward the castle. 

 The quiet that filled the space was almost deafening. He could hear his heartbeat and see his breath in the frigid air. As Sir Randall Pike dismounted his steed, he let the reins drop as his eye caught movement. He walked towards it, sword in hand. 

An older man dressed in velvet robes appeared from inside one of the narrow doors, stopped just out of sword’s reach, and gazed at Sir Randall. Their breath seemed to freeze in midair as they stared at each other. A glimmer of recognition passed through Sir Randall’s mind as a distant memory began to surface.

“We were expecting you. 

“Expecting me, why?”

“Every few millennia, we return to this dimension to claim our rightful king, the one who carries our bloodline. The time has come for you to take your rightful place as leader of the Upper Dimension.”

The man withdrew a scepter hidden under his cloak and handed it to Randall. The moment Sir Randall touched the golden wand, his body began to change. His muscles and bones started to hurt in a way he’d never experienced before. He was growing older, his beard growing white and lengthening. As he looked around, the courtyard came alive with people from the distant realm. 

He was home. With that realization, the castle vanished.

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