News! July 31, 2015

Hi everybody! We have some updates for you. Firstly, we (Daniel and Maribel) will be attending Long Beach Comic Con on September 12th and 13th! We will have a table set up in the Artist Alley. We will have prints of some of our illustrations for sale as well as some cool swag to give away. We would love the chance to meet some of you in person! If you want to get tickets for the con head over to their website. It's a fun convention and a great chance to interact with some of your favorite artists and writers (like us).

Secondly, we've started work on a new comic! This one stars one of our favorite characters, Iris Beaumont! Here's the first story she was in. This will be our second full comic and we're excited to get to show it to you! While you wait patiently, here's a mock-up of what the final cover will look like:


If you find yourselves at the con, pick up our preview booklet with the final version of the cover. We've been hard at work preparing for the con and working on the comic but we'll try to get back to regularly scheduled stories as soon as we can. Thanks for your continued support! We hope to see you at the convention!



Quest for Story is written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.

Ragnarok

“I know you can hear me, Ase!”
Ake roared over the static. The crackling in his ear spoke volumes more than her words had in a long time. If his sister had blocked him he wouldn’t be hearing the pops and fizzes. A sudden explosion sent Ake’s world spinning. Orange and red light disrupted his HUD and when it cleared, his island cover was gone - disintegrated. His cosmosuit protected him from the savage heat threatening to vaporize him alongside the landscape. The explosion was a deep thrum which he felt more than heard but that was just as well - sound was disturbing in the near vacuum. Voices were like painful memories; colliding shards were like dying gods. Røkkva’s limited atmosphere gave Ake the impression that he was floating through an endless graveyard. He missed the warmth of Lastland’s day and night cycle. The icy shards of Røkkva existed in eternal darkness.
Ake engaged the thrusters in his boots and aimed for a large slab of land a few drifts away. He was completely exposed as he crossed the gap but it was his only option. Laser fire erupted immediately. The light show illuminated his visor as he drifted helplessly across the divide. It wasn’t luck that let him land on the rocky surface unharmed – Ase was missing intentionally. He had seen her vaporize a Rockwaller from twenty drifts away and that was on a bad day. She didn’t want to kill Ake any more than he wanted to kill her. But this was war and there were certain expectations.
Ake took shelter behind an outcropping on the landmass. His vitals were flashing incessantly on his HUD. He didn’t need the screen to tell him this was a losing battle. He disabled the beeping and flashing and crouched for a moment to catch his breath. The earthen slab upon which he was perched was barren and colorless. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t risking his life for this endless field of floating lifeless rocks. He was doing it for the people who lived on them, people who were running out of water and resources, people who were desperate.
“Ase, listen,” Ake wheezed in his com. “You have to fall back. For once in your life just trust me.”
He thought he could hear his sister’s strained breathing over the fuzz but she didn’t utter a word.
The shard where Ake sat spun slowly and and would soon expose his cover. His momentary reprieve had given his suit’s reserves a chance to recharge and redistribute energy to vital systems. As his island continued its rotation, the battlefield inched into view. He saw two armies floating amongst the endless fields of Røkkva. Lastlanders and Røkkans clashed amidst the rockshards lobbing rockets, blasting lasers, and swinging blades. And then she came into view. Outlined against the horrific glow of the Barracore was his sister.
The Barracore’s metallic framework was like a massive spiderweb floating in the space between the landmasses. It was the centerpiece around which their two worlds orbited. Its fusion generator was the only thing holding the atmosphere of their shattered planet together and if the plan worked, it would be the catalyst that reformed their planet. The station was controlled by Lastlanders and had been since before this war had begun, since before Ake abandoned his people. Abandoned his sister.
Even after so much time apart, they knew each other better than they knew themselves. They both acted simultaneously. Ake leapt from his exposed cover using a combination of its momentum and his boots’ thrusters to propel himself toward her. Ase anticipated the act of aggression and activated the gravity wells in her suit’s forearms. She pulled a rockshard twice his girth in front of her as a shield. Ake’s rocket was loosed before Ase’s rock had even begun to twitch and the two objects collided. The shield splintered and floated in a million tiny directions. Ake’s momentum carried him through the debris-littered smoke cloud and out the other side. When he cleared the gap, Ase was there waiting for him with a thrust-boosted fist racing towards him. The punch landed against his helmet and he felt the shockwave reverberate through his body. He was sent spinning backward but as soon as his sister came back into view, he grabbed her legs with both his arms and used his own momentum to fling her down toward the monstrous Barracore. The action carried him backward as well. He landed, his feet against a passing rockshard, and kicked off toward Ase.
They were close enough to the Barracore now that the gravity pull was too much to fight against. They were falling towards the labyrinth of catwalks and machinery.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Ase!” Ake roared over the intercom.
“It’s too late for that, brother.”
Her words stung with an impenitent truth but he was still glad to hear her voice. And with that, Ase unleashed a barrage of laser fire from her wrist cannon. There was nothing to hide behind this time and so Ake did the next best thing and dodged. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid every blast, but he managed to escape the brunt of it. His suit was scalded and damaged but still intact. The two of them, brother and sister, tumbled downward towards the core. Ake returned fire but aimed wide. They were falling through the clockwork of the machine now. Ake had to focus on avoiding his sister’s attacks as well as dodging past girders and cables. And then the laser fire stopped.
“This is the only way to end this war, Ase. The people of Røkkva are going to die unless--”
“You’re an idealistic fool and you always have been! Of course people are going to die. What you’re trying to do is impossible, Ake. A lot more people are going to die if--”
“Ase, watch out!”
Ake saw the swinging mechanical arm before Ase but it was too late. She clipped against it hard and spun into a freefall.
“Ase?” Ake called out.
No response.
“Ase!”
His suit was low on power but he didn’t care. He rerouted everything he had into his thrusters and rocketed toward his sister. Quick adjustments allowed him to barely avoid clipping machinery himself. They were deep now; he could see the swirling corona of the core. He reached out and grabbed Ase and held on with all his might. He reversed the thrusters and slowed his momentum as much as possible but they were falling too fast. The beeping of low power and flashing lights on his HUD told him what he already knew – they were going to die. With the last of his suit’s power Ake steered them toward the inner frame of the core. They crashed against the metal walkway and tumbled. Bright lights flashed in Ake’s eyes and it wasn’t his HUD, it was the shock of impact. He lay for a few moments on his stomach trying to analyze where he was hurt. He could see the core glowing through the slits in the walkway. After a few moments he attempted to push himself up but the pain was excruciating. His left arm was useless. He rolled to his side and grabbed a railing with his right arm.
Where was Ase? He scanned his surroundings and found her lying a few floats away – she was motionless. Ake ran to her. She was still breathing and Ake heaved a sigh of relief. He held his hand to the glass of his helmet, kissed the air, and then placed the hand against the glass of hers.
“I’m going to give you a better world.”
Ake half stumbled, half walked to the console. It looked just as it had been described to him. This was the spot. He opened a panel in his suit’s forearm and extended the interface cable. He plugged it into the console and the program began to run. Ake slid to the ground and waited with his eyes closed. He imagined a lush green world with running water. Children laughed and played under the warm glow of the sun. He breathed in deep the free flowing oxygen. It was wonderful. A painful burning sensation snapped him back to reality. He looked down and saw a charred hole where his chest had been. His suit didn’t have enough power to protect against the laser this time. Raising his eyes, Ake saw his sister, standing and pointing her laser cannon at him. She lowered her arm and ran over to the console.
“Oh, no, no, no! Ake, what have you done?” his sister cried out.
Her fingers worked frantically along the console trying to reverse what he had set in motion but it was too late. For Ake, the world was moving in slow motion. He recognized the pain in his chest but it seemed so far away. He could hear the deep thrum of the core and felt the metal framework buckle all around them. But it somehow seemed less important now. Ase slid to the ground next to her brother and became the only part of the world that still mattered to him. He could see tears in her eyes.
“Do you trust me?” Ake asked.
“Of course not,” Ase laughed through tears. “You’re always wrong.”
“Not this time,” Ake gestured upward. “Look.”
Far above on the horizon, the distant shards of a broken planet began to pull closer together.
“You have to go,” Ake said.
Ase shook her head but he knew she would listen. She embraced him and then kissed her hand and placed it against his helmet. He watched her board the lift next to the console and continued watching until it had risen out of sight. The metal beams began to come apart. The whole framework was collapsing around him. He closed his eyes and once more thought of lush green fields. He saw Ase leaning against a tree, reading a book. She looked up from her story and smiled at Ake.
And then it was dark.



Ragnarok was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.

The Kingdom and the Moors

Leah was a princess. But she was not in distress. She was the hero of her story. Wearing a tiara and looking down at her kingdom, she made a decision. She was capable of anything. The swing set was a towering castle and the backyard was the land she ruled over. The other children all played their parts. Mackenzie was a royal guard patrolling the dead grass in front of the swings. And over yonder in the moors was Dillon, the villainous wizard. He was a vulgar and oppressive boy. Leah was on her back staring up through the leaves of the great tree. The wind rustled through the leaves revealing bursts of sunlight and, if she was lucky, a hint of a cloud.
Being a Princess had its perks but often Leah wanted to go out and adventure like the brave knights who fought for her. She sat up and swung her legs over the bars of the swing set and looked down at her royal guard who had taken to swinging.
“Guard, did I give you leave to swing?” demanded her highness.
“No, my lady, but from the apex of my swing I can see a great deal more of the kingdom than I could on the ground.”
“Very well. I desire to mingle with the commoners. Would you kindly escort me into the moors?
“But my lady, the nefarious wizard dwells across the moors.”
“I know. And I would have words with him.”
“Very well, my lady.”
The royal guard Mackenzie took a few looks across the fields and then with careful precision let loose her body from the swing and landed in a tumble on the lawn. Princess Leah climbed down the wooden ladder with a regal air about her. The ancient wood was splintered under her soft hands.
“Guard! Where is my royal scepter?”
“Right here, my lady.”
Mackenzie was at her side, scepter in hand. Together the Princess and her trusted guard galloped off across the moors. The lands surrounding the castle were well groomed. The journey was long and arduous, but Leah was a tough spirit and craved the adventure. Slowly the bright sun became hidden as they crossed under an awning into the wizard’s lair. The great wizard sat on the ground playing with a toy car. Surely he was concocting some evil plot to overthrow her kingdom. He looked up at them and then ignored them and continued in his machinations.
“Attention you vile and odious wizard,” the Princess decreed.
Dillon continued to ignore her Highness. Leah was displeased and Mackenzie could see it in her scowl.
“Her Royal Highness has addressed you boy wizard. You would be wise to acknowledge her presence.”
“Go away,” Dillon groaned.
“Dillon you’re supposed to be an evil wizard,” Mackenzie whispered through her teeth.
“I’m not playing that anymore, go away.”
The Princess was not surprised that the wizard was playing coy. He was well known for his trickery. Leah was unafraid.
“Wizard I have a proposition for you. You see, I grow weary of my rank and I believe you are the only one who can assist me.”
Mackenzie looked taken aback. Why would her Royal Highness utter such blasphemies? Dillon looked up from his task with an interested eye.
“Go on...”
“I want to leave my kingdom behind for a new life and you’re just the man to help. I need you to cast a spell that will allow my Royal Guard and I to switch castes. She will take on the role of Princess so that I may live the life of a commoner. In exchange, I grant you her hand in marriage and with that my kingdom shall be yours as well.”
“Leah...” Mackenzie complained.
Leah closed her eye and turned away.
“But he’s gross.”
Leah turned and placed her hand on Mackenzie's shoulders.
“I know he may seem that way. But I knew this wizard long before he turned into such a repugnant monster. Our kindness will turn his heart and together the two of you can usher in a hundred years of peace for our great kingdom.”
“Very well, my lady, if that is your wish.”
“It is. What say you wizard?”
Dillon looked past the girls toward the swing set and grinned.
“And I can play on the swings?”
“Of course. This land will be yours to do with as you, and Mackenzie, see fit.”
“Sure then,” said Dillon, as he jumped up and ran across the backyard.
Mackenzie ran off after him.
“I call the good swing,” Dillon yelled.
“Na-uh I'm the Princess, I get the good swing!” Mackenzie retorted.
Leah watched as the two shoved each other in the distance, each vying for a spot on the swing set, even though there were two perfectly good swings. Leah was a little remorseful that she had given up her throne but mostly she was excited for the freedom it now granted her. She looked down at the sparkling scepter in her hand and watched as it fell to the ground. The world was hers to explore now and she would conquer whatever villains stood between her and victory.



The Kingdom and the Moors was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.

Brick by Brick


The bricklayer knelt in the dirt, her knees chafed and raw. The rusted trowel lay haphazardly at her side where she had moments ago dropped it. It lay half obscured by blades of tall grass. She would lose track of it. The repetition of the day’s task had ground her brain into a mushy paste. Where was Bandt today, or yesterday for that matter? He was supposed to clear the path ahead of her so she could focus on the brickwork. How frustrating she found that boy. Everyone had a job to do and everyone must do that job. She was a bricklayer as her father was before her, and her grandmother before that. Their family had worked on the Salvage Road for generations. Bandt was a foundationer. His job was to clear the old dirt road of grass and rocks so that she could continue her work. What if Kappy Lestan the ‘smith had given up her hammer for a drink? Then Bandt would have no tools for his job. The foolish boy had no regard for the circle of progress. He was probably fooling off at the nearby Passtown. The Old Road drove through many such Passtowns and each one was the same. They were stops for travelers to rest their weary feet. They were also dens of misdeeds. Work was good. Work kept the hands busy so that they wouldn’t wander, and young boys’ hands tended to wander.
The bricklayer, Jassa Loome she was called, though she couldn’t remember the last time she had heard her name aloud, stretched her back and felt a few innocent pops. She craned her neck and stared up at the sky. The Core twinkled vibrant shades of green, its nourishing light feeding the summer foliage. She had never been to the Core before but she had met travelers who had made such claims. Even the best poets failed to find words evocative enough to describe the beauty they saw there. Crystalline skyscrapers climbed across its surface, built by the noble denizens that dwelled there.
When she had been a young girl, back when the Salvage Road was forty bends shorter, she used to dream about one day stepping foot on the Core. That beautiful sphere hanging in her sky had represented so much hope and so much longing. Keep your eyes on the ground, Jassa, her father always reminded her, Everyone has a job to do.
Her father’s words lived in her. Jassa shifted her gaze past the Core towards the far side of Inworld. She could see the Salvage Road stretching upward along the curve of the surface until it disappeared in the haze of distance. The world was vast and on the clearest days she could almost see the far side. Somewhere along that brick road was Tuashi where she had grown up. Ton Loome had taken his furlough in the suburban demense that was Tuashi. He took family with a mason’s daughter named Liddy Parinuk. Their first child was called Tarin, a strong boy who took to masonry like a bee takes to a flower. Their second was Jassa who had followed her father’s profession and found it suited her well. She had left Tuashi twenty five years ago to continue Ton’s work building the Salvage Road and though she had not seen her family in all that time, she often thought of them and of home.
Where in the Surface was Bandt, thought Jassa. She couldn’t continue her work until the fool continued his. She stood and began walking back along the brick road she had laid towards the Passtown. Pausing, she looked skyward and was once more filled with the gentle warmth of hope. Try as her father had, he never could snuff out that flame. The light of the Core would be dimming soon, she may as well head back to her bunkhouse and get an early start tomorrow. But not before giving Bandt an earful.,



 Brick by Brick was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro (with a little help from Daniel Weinell).

Sunset Swim


A shy wind crept from the sea and inched its way along the shore. Grains of sand shivered at the breeze's gentle touch. Sam sat barefoot with his toes buried under the shale and a book in his hand. The dying light of the evening sun darkened the words on the page beyond visibility. It was just as well, he was paying no attention to the paperback. His gaze was set on the crashing waves as he breathed in the salty spray and melted onto the beach. Work had been tolerable today - no, it was better than that but his visiting anxiety gulled him into thinking it was death in a cubicle. Work was enjoyable and the pay was good and life was good despite what that little voice in the dark of his mind whispered.
His cousins laughed and splashed in the waves, beckoning him to join. He could make out their silhouettes against the brilliant orange light on the horizon. He had dipped his toes in the water earlier and found it much too frigid to submerge entirely. But that was then and this was now. He wriggled free of his hoodie and shirt and cautiously stepped into the sea. His brother, ever the helpful one, was there to splash the icy water onto his skin. Goosebumps burst from the flesh of his arm. To avoid a second onslaught, Sam inhaled and dove beneath the surface. The sounds of the world dropped away and were replaced with a gentle dampened churning. It was peaceful down here. He even forgot, for a moment, the heart stopping arctic cold. When he rose, the surface of the ocean broke around his head and the murk was replaced with a blinding light. The sun was nestled in the marine layer, drawing its luminous cirrus across the sky.
The waves continued to roll, carrying one cousin after another closer to shore before ultimately crashing atop them. Elation seemed a natural conclusion for everyone but Sam. Contentment was elusive. He knew that his doldrums would pass and in passing, vaporize like dew in the morning light. But there was knowing and there was knowing. And right now, there was only angst.
He let the buoyant sea lift his legs until he was floating on his back, eyes to the distant edge of the world. From this position with his ears submerged the melody of his surroundings were once again allayed. He drank in the beauty of a sky on fire and it began to quench the darkness. His body rose and fell with each passing swell. He closed his eyes and found peace in the sanguinity of the sea.



Sunset Swim was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.

Fishing


A sudden chill rippled the surface of the otherwise pristine lake. Kady shivered and zipped her parka up until her nose was securely protected. She and her father, Eli, had been sitting in silence long enough for Kady’s mind to slip into fiction. She had been imagining a cavernous wonderland underneath the lake. She floated uninhibited through stony parapets surrounded by schools of brilliantly colored fish. Her child’s mind wasn’t constrained by the hard realities that came with age. The vast expanse of the lake’s interior was just as her grandfather had described it. She was searching for Kuna, the fish as big as a whale. Grandpa had described the fish to her and it’s grandiose nature had grown with each telling. She thought she saw the hulking frame of the legendary fish from the corner of her eye but that was when the whistling wind snapped her back to the surface.
Eli looked over his shoulder toward his daughter as she zipped up her parka.
“You doing alright, sweetie?”
Kady nodded, more for her own reassurance than her father’s. She stood and balanced toward Eli. The dinghy swayed with her movement and she braced herself on the boat’s raised edge. She sat down next to her father who promptly reached his free hand around his daughter. His other hand held fast to the handle of his fishing pole. Kady snuggled into his side-hug for warmth.
“Nothing’s biting,” Eli mused.
Kady watched the silent ripples where her father’s line broke the surface of the water. His gentle tug on the pole was the only indication of movement, whatever lurked beneath the placid surface remained a mystery. But Kady had an idea what dwelled in that underwater kingdom.
“Do you think Grandpa’s happy, now?” asked Kady.
She could feel her father’s muscles tense ever so slightly at the question. He shifted his weight inadvertently -  an outward reflection of his inner contemplation.
“Your grandpa was always happy around you kids. I remember the way his eyes lit up every time we visited.”
Kady pondered this response for a moment. She was too young to understand the subtleties in the way adults spoke, the avoidance of her father’s answer, but she had some ideas of her own.
“I think he’s happy,” she said matter-of-factly.
He had loved taking walks around the lake with Kady and her cousins. They would throw rocks into the water and chase the ducks until they flocked into the sky. Grandpa would always warn them to be careful not to disturb Kuna, he was a gentle fish but he didn’t enjoy all the rocks sinking into his bed. And then Grandpa got sick and he couldn’t walk with Kady anymore.
“I think you’re right,” Eli said, “You know, grandpa loved you very much.”
“I know,” said Kady.
They sat in silence for a while and Kady’s mind began to drift again. She was once more floating among the schools of fish. A bright orange fish broke from the group and swam right up to her face and puffed out its cheeks. It reminded her of when Grandpa used to make her laugh with his silly faces. A warm shadow filled the ocean floor and the orange fish darted away. A deep hum reverberated through the water all around her. It was foreign and yet familiar. She felt the presence like an embrace. Kady turned, sure of what she would finally see floating behind her. And there he was.



Fishing was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.

A Little Slice of Earth


BroomBot focused its ocular units on the fat child and its disdain functions immediately activated. It leaned on its broom and watched as the child's mother neglectfully engaged another human in conversation while the child haphazardly dropped souvenirs to the floor. The motors in BroomBot's neck whirred and clanked as it shook its head. It gripped its broom and rolled down the aisle sweeping in and around the sea of feet. The shelves were lined with knicks and knacks produced billions of lightyears away and shipped across the Interstellar Logistics Hyperlane. BroomBot's irony chip had shorted out long ago at the thought of Earth-related souvenirs and paraphernalia being manufactured off-world in a factory out in deep space. The robot had been sweeping the floors of the Little Slice of Earth Gift Shop since the day it had been powered on and not once had it observed a human enjoying their visit.
BroomBot felt a clunk as something hard collided with the back of its head. It dropped its broom and turned to discover the source of its newfound discomfort. The fat child stood behind it grinning smugly and holding a hard plastic globe of the earth. BroomBot scanned the child thoroughly and activated its protocols for ignoring distractions. As the robot bent over to retrieve its broom, the fat child hit BroomBot on the head once more. Its vision faltered – the Gift Shop was replaced with a beautiful sandy beach. It could hear the sound of the waves crashing and felt the cool ocean breeze blow over its sensors.
The hideous sound of the fat child's laughter shifted BroomBot’s viewscreen back into the Gift Shop. It watched the child waddle down the aisle, smacking items off the shelves with both arms outstretched. If BroomBot had been programmed to sigh it would have done so. As the throng of visitors shuffled toward the exit, BroomBot's broom was kicked and stomped. The door closed and the lights dimmed – BroomBot was alone. Its ocular units adjusted to the darkness and it found the missing broom – the handle was splintered and the thistles bent. BroomBot picked it up and rolled toward the garbage receptacle and with a twinge of sadness gently placed the broom inside.
The little robot collected the fallen souvenirs and placed them meticulously back on their shelves. When everything was in its place, it rolled towards its charging station. A glint of light caught its ocular unit and it froze in its tracks. It turned to face the window and saw the Earth floating against a backdrop of stars. BroomBot leaned its head longingly against the glass – the planet was beautiful. Every day it watched tourists blow through the Gift Shop like a hurricane and every day it cleaned up after them. Not once did they show any sign of appreciation for their place of origin. Humans had spread out amongst the stars and left the Earth behind to gather dust. Now it was nothing more than a tourist attraction for the undeserving. As the Gift Shop rotated in its orbit, the planet dropped out of view. BroomBot rolled over to its charging station and plugged itself in. It would need a full charge if it was going to repeat the process all over again tomorrow.



A Little Slice of Earth was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.

Second Chance


Henry Conifer was a brave man. He had fought proudly for his country during World War I. He had risked his life many times before. He was one of two surviving crewmen of a destroyed battleship. When he charged across that battlefield he didn’t have time to think about death. Twice in his life he had been struck by lightening, a feat few can claim once.
There were points in his life when he did think about dying. It scared him to his core and the only way he could deal with it was to ignore it. Somewhere deep in the back of his head that thought always lingered. But it never stopped him from living his life to the fullest. He had raised three children who in turn sired a gaggle of grandchildren for him to enjoy. But after his wife died, Henry was faced with death once again.
He didn’t believe in a god nor an afterlife and that was why death was so frightening to him. He spent the next years slowly deteriorating physically and mentally. His melancholy turned to overwhelming depression. Death seemed the only way to end the suffering but he still could not get over the hurdle of fear.
After a decisively traumatic illness befell Henry, he was taken to a hospital. And there he found himself lying on his back staring up at the unfriendly white ceiling. His breath was short and his body was weak. He turned his head painfully to look at his surroundings. A nurse was fiddling with some contraption. They were the enemy. They wanted to poke him with needles and insert tubes down his throat. He just wanted to rest but his bones were weak. He was confined to his frail body as much as he was to this hospital bed.
His children came to visit. If they spoke to him he couldn’t remember. When he found himself conscious his only thoughts were of death. He was frightened to sleep lest he not wake up again but he was so very tired. He would give anything for a second chance, not that he had done anything wrong, he just didn’t want to die. He had always hoped that as some part of the natural cycle of life he would find himself ready to accept his own mortality and just move on peacefully. But that had never come. He wasn’t peaceful, he was enraged. It wasn’t fair!
He drifted in and out of cognizance for many hours or days, he wasn’t sure. And then there was a moment of clarity. His eyes opened wide and he knew where he was. His son Greg was standing next to him along with his grandson Levi. They had been talking, Henry was sure of that. He wasn’t sure to whom they had been talking. But at that moment, Henry reached out for Levi and grabbed his arm with all the strength he could muster. The child looked shocked and a little scared.
“I don’t want to die, Levi. I don’t want to die!” Henry tried to yell but his words were slurred, not as powerful as he had willed them.
“Dad, calm down.” Greg attempted to pry his father’s hand from Levi’s wrist but Henry found a reserve of strength and clamped down hard.
“No! I won’t die, I refuse!”
Henry felt a sharp pain in his head for only a split second and then confusion overtook him. He opened his eyes and could not reconcile his surroundings. He was sitting on the ground looking up at an impossibly tall hospital bed. He felt the cold linoleum tiles beneath him with his hands. His face was wet and he reached up to wipe the moisture off of them. And then he saw his hands, only they weren’t his hands, they were too small.
Henry looked up and saw his son Greg standing over the hospital bed leaning over the patient there. He was yelling for a nurse.
“Levi, go wait outside,” Greg’s voice was stern.
Henry watched as a nurse rushed into the room and stood over the patient.
Greg turned to look directly at Henry, “Levi, please.”
Henry stood up with an ease he hadn’t felt for over twenty years. He could now see the hospital bed and in it a convulsing old man. But it wasn’t just any old man, it was his own face that he was staring at. Henry heard the extended beep of the heart monitor as he walked from the room. He could hear his son’s panicked voice talking to the nurse as she worked.
Henry walked down the hall and saw doctors moving about. As he walked, he felt his face and looked down at his clothes. He was wearing Levi’s clothes. Up ahead he saw a sign for the restrooms and ducked inside. He rushed over to the sink impatiently and had to lean onto his toes to see into the mirror. The sad wrinkled face that usually stared back at him was replaced with that of his grandson Levi. Henry backed away in fright. How could this have happened? In a moment of realization, he began to panic. If he was occupying Levi’s body then Levi must be in his body.
Henry ran from the restroom and back down the hall. His sneakers squeaked against the linoleum. As he approached the room that he had only minutes ago been a patient in he saw his son Greg sitting on a chair outside, head in his hands. Greg looked up at Henry with tears in his eyes. Again Henry was gripped by panic.
“Come here Levi.”
Greg reached out a loving arm and picked Henry up. Henry was a little surprised at the feeling.
“Your grandfather passed on,” said Greg.
“He’s dead?” asked Henry.
“I’m so sorry, kiddo.”
Henry was filled with mixed feelings. He could not explain the phenomenon that had allowed his consciousness passage into his grandson’s body. He was frightened that he didn’t know what had happened to Levi’s essence. But, though he felt guilty for feeling it, Henry was mostly relieved. He was not only still alive but also freed from the living corpse he had once occupied.
“That’s ok...dad. I’m sure grandpa’s in a better place now.”
The next few weeks were a blur for Henry. There was a funeral and lots of crying. But Henry was happy and he was energetic. He ran around and played with the other grandchildren. He played the part of Levi because he didn’t really know what else to do. But he was thankful for his second chance and didn’t squander a moment. He fell into the role quickly and perhaps it was the new brain or a miracle of the phenomenon but he soon felt as if he was Levi. Perhaps lingering neurons crossed into Henry’s consciousness. Either way “Levi” felt right at home in his new body and new life.
He never felt afraid of death from then on. Eventually Levi forgot most of his previous life as new experiences took their place. He was happy. But from time to time he would go to the site of his grandfather's grave to pay his respects. He was a great man who had sacrificed so much for Levi. He would miss Henry Conifer and always hold a place for him in his heart.



Second Chance was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.