A.A. Achibane's Blog

There's only ten days remaining in the Smashwords Summer/Winter sale! What does that mean? There are only ten days left to get Motor Girl and the Endless Race free! Get in at the beginning and hold on tight, this story is full of twists, turns, and action. Packed with heart-wrenching romance and low sci-fi descriptions/world, its a great addition to your library or TBR. So get it now while its free!

Smashwords lists it as a top series starter:

You can get Motor Girl and the Endless Race for FREE on Smashwords until July 31st. Get it now and read it later. Either way it’s a free book you’re going to love so much, you’ll buy every version I put out.

Want a read that’s got great world building but isn’t too intense on the sci-fi? A dystopian that has a realistic future setting? A slow-burn, forbidden romance that will have you bitting your own lip? A crime novel with a missing girl mystery? An MFC that isn’t meek and annoying but relatable and strong? Or how about a morally grey hottie that will have you questioning how much you’d be willing to over look to be with? My YA dystopian romance is unputdownable and promises not to be another DNF. And even if it is, you got it for free! Head to Smashwords today and check it out!

I got the invitation this January, but we weren't allowed to share until recently. If you're on my IG, you know this already. But I know many of you aren't. This means, special editions, merchandise, and sales! Starting this July! If you want faster updates, follow me on Instagram! If you want previews and exclusives, join my newsletter.

Ticket sales start June 21st and they go FAST! And you can see why, its a star studded event that lasts three days. You can get more details here.

For many of you (aka all of us), Kindle Vella is brand new. Vella is barely a year old now, getting started in April 2021, and since they do zero advertising for it, very little is known about it. You get the impression that they're keeping it quiet in case it fails...

What little ads I've seen (which only started very recently showing up in my Insta feed) show top-rated stories but don't tell you the most important thing, in my opinion. And that's the free tokens you get just for visiting Vella.

As pictured above, when you go to the Kindle Vella home page or the home page or any Vella story you wish to read, look at the top right of the screen for the free tokens. Once you click on it, another window will pop up.

Don't let any of this scare you! This is not a subscription. You don't have a certain amount of time to use the tokens, and you won't be automatically charged later. Once you use up the free tokens, you'll have to buy more, but that's up to you.

With this still a new system, Amazon wants to encourage their authors to stay and for more to join. So these free tokens are an incentive for readers that benefits the authors too. Kindle Vella currently offers bonuses to authors that are tied directly to how many reads they get from those using free tokens. This means that I, as an author, am not making royalties, but Amazon is making it up to me in bonuses.

Long story short, you can support Vella authors without it costing you a dime. And the first three chapters are always free. You can also leave a review, fave, and follow the story, which helps the author's ranking. The higher up on the ranking board, the more people see us first. I hope you'll all think about it and claim some free stories!

Don't forget to sign up for my newsletter. For those of you who have, you should have received two letters by now (June and July). If you didn't get them, check your spam. I like Mail Chimp, but I hate how -even with your permission- it still sends the email to spam until you green light it. Why I have to get permission only for it to go unseen and thousands of others send me unwanted mail without my permission, I'll never know. Sign up for my launch team too! All you need is a social presence. Those who sign up will receive a free PDF of Growing Pains so you can read and review it as soon as a post is made or once the book launches on September 1st. That's all you have to do, share, comment, review, reblog, whatever, and you get the book for free!!

AN: Here's a little dark tale for you on Friday the 13th. I made a playlist to go along with this story but it's not super specific to this story. Just some dark music. And there's some homemade art in the middle to go with this story too. I hope you all enjoy the short trip into the future!

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No matter how much we wish, they were real.

Copyright © 2022 Allison Achibane

All rights reserved.

Provecta Labs is seeking an adventurous individual for new aged travel system testing. No education or experience is needed. Clean background all that's required. High pay and full benefits.

That was what the ad said, and Blake answered it. Most would hesitate but not her. Not with her current bad luck in career choices. Blake had barely finished high school and went straight into the workforce. And it was a great move for her, making manager positions everywhere she went after a few months of hard work. But her latest job had massive layoffs with the recession, and Blake was a new hire.

What was supposed to be a promising new career with plenty of advancement opportunities turned out to be a joke. And Blake's old job had already been filled, so there was no going back.

So while others balked at the mysterious and eerie vibe, the listing gave off. And had no regrets when they told Blake the pay. It was three times what she made before and far less work. All she had to do was submit to regular physical exams, blood, urine, and a couple of CAT scans.

Oh, and she had to test out the time machine.

Blake was the mouse for Provecta's time travel device. She had seen the machine a few times already for practice runs and the so-called time machine was a large white room. The floor and ceiling were white tiles that shimmered in the fluorescent lighting. Nothing like the time machines in the movies Blake had watched.

All the scientists were very nice. Never once did Blake feel uncomfortable or belittled. It made it even harder to believe what they told her would happen.

"We're only going to send you twelve hours into the future, Blake," Dr. Turner, a calm woman with light grey hair, repeated, "that way, it's safe."

She always said that, but Blake didn't understand. What made a shorter time journey safer than a long one? Did it have something to do with all those theories in the movies about black holes?

Blake shook her head at the thoughts. It only made her ears burn with nerves. She was doing this. The check had already cleared the bank, and she needed that money. Anyone would take the funds in this day and age.

All Blake needed to do was follow the rules the scientists gave her. Six scientists, and they all said the same thing.

Rule one, no clothes. She had to do this in the nude. A middle-aged and balding man, Dr. Kells, said something about not mixing organic and non-organic in the machine. Blake didn't understand, but she'd seen The Fly and didn't question it.

Rule two, after she returned, Blake had to go into twenty-four-hour quarantine. No one explained this except to say, "time contamination precautions," whatever that meant. Blake wasn't sure what virus she could bring back from twelve hours in the future, but she wasn't paid to ask questions.

The final rule was the only one Blake sort of got. She wasn't supposed to say anything to anyone. Not even herself. Blake doubted she would see herself. If the time movies got it right, Blake would proof away in a cloud of smoke and a tremble if she saw her future self. Was it really the future? It was twelve hours, and everyone acted like it was twelve years!

Blake wasn't sure twelve years was enough to make a difference or cause contamination.

She wasn't the one with all the degrees. Or the willpower to find out. Blake would take the scientists' words as law and follow them strictly without a fight. With today being THE day, Blake was set to follow every rule and regulation without struggle.

Her flip-flops popped loudly in the otherwise empty hall. Dr. Turner was at her side, leading her into the room . . . the machine. Even though she owned her pair, the flip-flops were Provecta provided. Same as the thin robe Blake wore for modesty. Blake wasn't a showy person, and she didn't love attention. But she understood the rules of this test and didn't fight the no-clothing regulation.

However, Blake also got the problem of her walking around the dark halls in the buff.

The building was a small tin hut on the outskirts of town, and it was all Provecta property. Blake hadn't seen anyone else in the building besides the seven of them, so she had to assume they were alone. It made sense, given the paranoia the group had. Another rule was that Blake wasn't allowed to speak to anyone during the trials. Or after. She had even signed a non-disclosure agreement. The scientists barely talked to her, and she knew nothing of how anything worked, but sure, Blake was a threat to their payday. Who would believe her? Especially when asked about the future, her only response is, "Oh, I only went twelve hours ahead".

It was pointless to worry about Blake, but she wasn't there to ask questions or fight the system.

Placed in the center, Blake slowly removed her robe. Dr. Turner took it from her and joined the others on the other side of the wall. It had a rectangle glass for them to look in and watch her. There was no required position for Blake to be in, just that she was alone and naked in the middle of the room. And with so many eyes on Blake's nude body, she chose to wrap her arms around her chest and crouch. It was the only way to cover as much of her body as possible. In her position, she could still the faces of the scientist as they watched her studiously.

No one mentioned what it would feel like to jump time. Blake imagined it would be painful or weird. The scientist said nothing, maybe so they didn't frighten Blake. Either that or they had no clue what it felt like. Saying nothing made it worse as every muscle in Blake's body tightened with terror-filled tension. Only masochists like pain, and Blake wasn't one, flinching as the countdown from five lowered to one.

A loud pop echoed around, making Blake jump. That hurt, her tense muscles flexing when they couldn't move. The pain faded, and nothing more happened. Blake had closed her eyes off to the sensations, slowly opening them when the stillness became too much. The first thing she noticed was the lack of eyes on her. The scientists' faces were no longer in the window.

Carefully, Blake lifted out of her crouch, staring at the window unblinking. But there was no one there. "Hello?"

Blake's voice cracked like it was dry. If this worked, it had been twelve hours since her last sip of water. She was supposed to stay silent, let them look her over, then send her back. The whole process was to take an hour, and the scientists had been antsy about that time frame. She heard Dr. Kells talk about taking too long. So the fact that no one, especially Dr. Kells, was rushing out to her with needles was strange.

There wasn't a sound on either side of the wall, and Blake was tired. It was almost like she'd walked the twelve hours to get here. Her steps were weak, and her body shook, but Blake was ready to dig into these scientists for giving her such a hard time and then not being there to greet her. No-one stopped her as she left the machine and entered the booth.

"They really must not be there", Blake thought, getting angrier with each step.

She opened the scientists' rat hole door to slip and land on her back immediately. Her legs had completely come out from under her. There was something on the floor, and it coated her backside entirely now. The arms and legs, too, trying to get up on her feet again. Any understanding of what the stuff was washed away, Blake finally made eye contact with Dr. Turner. Only Dr. Turner was on the floor, looking blankly at Blake. And her green eyes were dull and almost grey.

Dr. Turner's mouth was parted, but no air came from it. It hung open in a horrified gasp that was released a while ago. Blake's eyes left the woman's face and searched her body on instinct. Dr. Turner had a deep hole in her chest.

A strangled cry escaped Blake's lips, and she returned to trying to get to her feet. She managed to sit up, finding Dr. Kells with his throat slit at her feet. Blake couldn't see the wounds on the others, but all six scientists were there, vital fluid pooling from the lifeless bodies of the only people that could send Blake back home.

Blood. Blake had slipped in their juices. She was covered in it. And now, Blake was choking, a scream begging to come out. Her eyes watered, blurring her sight. Blake forced herself to look away and get out of the gore immediately. Once on her feet, Blake found the wall covered in sanguine from the massacre around her. But some hemoglobin was purposeful, a handprint lingering from where someone wrote a message.

"Sorry," is what it said. The wall bled with the word Sorry. That was the only thing the scientists had to say to her, to the one they left stranded in the future.

Blake backed out, slamming her back into the door before spinning in the slick to fully exit the room. An emergency phone was on the wall a hall over. She was certain this was an emergency, slip-sliding down the hall towards the phone. It began ringing as soon as she picked it up, set to dial the cops instantly. Her voice quaked as she explained all she could to the dispatcher. Blake left out the time travel. It was a rule, and she knew she would sound crazy. Looking down at herself, Blake realized how crazy she looked anyway. The only 'clothing' she wore was blood.

The facility had showers and with Blake forced to live on-site during the tests, she knew them well. Along with getting the caked plasma off her skin, Blake pulled on some clothes. On the outside, she looked normal. However, Blake felt far from it, in the wrong time, and utterly confused. It had been twelve hours. How did all of the scientists manage to die? If she could get back to her time, she could warn them. Then none of this would ever happen.

Blake's first task was getting back to the time machine. Then she had to figure out how to work it and send herself back. It couldn't be that difficult . . . right?

To begin with, she had little confidence, but all that there was drained away when Blake caught sight of the time machine. Calling the police had been a mistake. They swarmed the booth now, blocking her way home completely. Blake was supposed to go back and go into quarantine, and she wasn't supposed to say anything to anyone. Even though Dr. Turner nor Dr. Kells explained what would happen if she did, the terrible things that happened in the movies had Blake frozen. They were all fictional horror films meant to warn anyone from messing with time. But they had to be warnings for a reason, and Blake didn't want to find out.

She ducked deeper into the shadows of her corner when someone approached from the other direction. Blake didn't need to see the face of the person in cuffs. She recognized them without a word from them. Blake watched as her future self, the Blake that belonged to this time, was led out by a pair of officers.

Of course, she was the prime suspect. Blake was the only other person on the premises. Who else could it be?!

Blake jumped and squealed when a hand wrapped around her mouth and yanked her back. She bit the hand, and they cursed loudly behind her. When she spun to attack her attacker, she stopped at the sight of a white lab coat. "Who are you?!"

He shook the hand she bit, still swearing and glaring at her. "I'm Dr. Peters, the head of this operation."

Blake stepped back, "I've never heard of you."

"You wouldn't," he stated and straightened his tie, "I supervise. Reports are sent to my office, and I oversee the budget. I would have been here today for the test, but my daughter is sick . . ."

Blake grabbed hold of the man's collar. He was short and thin. Blake could take him if she needed to, and she was far from being in shape. "They're dead. All of them."

Dr. Peters didn't fight against her grip. He only shook his head and sighed. "I know. And you're not supposed to be here."

"I don't want to be here! I followed the rules and should be HOME now. But everyone that could get me there IS DEAD!!!"

Dr. Peters hushed her, "I know! Look, I'd love to send you back, but as you can see, the booth is occupied. We'll have to wait until they get out of our way."

Blake pushed Dr. Peters back as she released him. "Can't you just ask them to move? Isn't this important?! A black hole could open up and kill us all!!"

Dr. Peters laughed at her, and Blake waited for his words of criticism. She hated scientists like Dr. Peters. They thought they were better because they were smarter. The others were never like this towards Blake. "A black hole won't open. The only danger is to you, Blake. The longer you stay in this time with your other self, the more chances there are for consequences."

"Consequences?" Blake asked although she was sure she didn't want to know.

Dr. Peters smirked with interest. "There are theories. It would be interesting to see what's true. Tell me, Blake, do you feel anything off? Any numbness or confusion?"

Blake slapped the smirk off Dr. Peters' face. "I felt that. Now get me the hell out of here!!"

Dr. Peters rubbed his cheek but said nothing about her assault. "As soon as the room is ours again."

The pair stayed in the dark, waiting. Finally, Dr. Peters approached the remaining cops and spoke for a few moments. They slowly agreed to his honeyed words, and Dr. Peters waved Blake over. "We have a few moments. I sent them for coffee."

"Why can't we use the machine with them here? Who cares as long as I get home!"

Dr. Peters frowned. "It's an active crime scene, one we're not supposed to touch. And this is all confidential. I saw your signature on the non-disclosure."

"Yeah, but this is different! This is an emergency!!!"

"No emergency trumps intellectual property and propriety. If word got out on what we were doing here, the protests would start and the attempts to steal and sabotage."

Blake stomped her foot in frustration, "it's the cops! Who are they going to tell?!"

The tremor Blake started in her foot from stomping traveled up until her leg, and lower back ached. Was this pain from stress or from being out of time? It didn't matter. She would be out of this messed-up world soon enough. Once she was back, she would tell the scientists, and they would live to see twelve hours later.

"Crap," Dr. Peters roared, and Blake pushed her attention back to him, "They didn't tell you an access key, did they?"

"No!" She screamed. "Of course, they didn't. I'm just the test subject! You're the supervisor. Didn't they tell you?!"

Dr. Peters shrugged, "no, it looks like they didn't trust me either."

At his side watching, Blake stepped back with that and looked the man over. Dr. Peters shows up out of nowhere, and she expected to take his word for who he is?

He must have caught on to her trepidation, suddenly reaching into his back pocket with an irritated sigh. "Here," he passed her a set of cards, one an ID for Provecta labs with his name and picture and the second a driver's license. They matched each other and the man before her. "I understand your fear, but you can trust me. And only me. Without the code, I can't send you anywhere. We need it from Dr. Turner, and she's. . ."

"Dead." Blake finished for him. "What other choices do I have?"

Pain struck Blake's stomach so strongly that it forced her to her knees. She clutched her belly but realized she couldn't feel her fingers or palms. Pulling them into sight, they were both see-through.

"Oh god . . . it's like back to the future . . ."

"Back to the Future is fiction. And McFly disappeared due to screwing up his birth." Dr. Peters knew pop culture? That was surprising. "This is an effect of occupying the same space of time as your future self. The Blake of this time is likely feeling the same things as you right now."

Dr. Peters helped Blake to her feet, but she still hunched over her stomach. "What does that mean??"

"It means that . . . your existence is fighting. But in the end, you'll both lose. Because if you disappear, then future you does too."

Dr. Peters stopped, but it was clear he had more to say. "What?"

He sighed, "if you die, then so does the Blake of this time. The future cannot exist without the past. But if the Blake of this time disappeared . . ."

"I would assume her place, and it would be as if it never happened?"

"Something like that."

Blake groaned as another wave of pain flowed from her belly to her back. "How do we get to her? The cops have her."

"They won't for long," Dr. Peters pointing to the small black bubble in the corner, "the video will prove her innocence. Unless . . . you did kill them?"

"No. That's stupid. Why would I kill the ones who could send me home?"

Dr. Peters' suspicions died as quickly as they came. It was why they sat in his car outside the police station, waiting for the current time Blake to appear. Numbness had reached Blake's wrists by the time she appeared. Dr. Peters got out and approached, but from where Blake sat, her other self didn't look like future Blake was cooperating. And why would she? Even with the sound logic of a scientist, no one wants to die. At least, Blake didn't, and she knew that about herself.

Dr. Peters told her to stay out of sight, but this wasn't working. Jumping out of the car, Blake showed herself to the other Blake before Dr. Peters could stop her. Current Blake's head shook violently as if having a stroke while she cried.

"No. No, this isn't right. You shouldn't be here!" Future Blake screamed at the past. "I went back! And I warned him!!!"

"Warned who?" Past Blake screamed back.

"Dr. Kells!! None of this should be happening!!"

Dr. Peters grabbed Blake's future self and shook her to calm. "You broke protocol?! You weren't supposed to say a word to anyone!!!"

"I know!!"

Past Blake stood at a short distance in shock. The pain and numbness flared together, making her feel weak. The two Blakes fell to one knee at the same time.

"This is why we have these rules!" Dr. Peters drew a small gun from his back pocket. He never mentioned a gun, and now he had it aimed at future Blake's heart. "This will fix everything."

Future Blake rolled and got to her feet, struggling but still getting a good distance away before Dr. Peters could get a shot off. He missed, and future Blake disappeared behind the police station. The sound of a gunshot would bring the cops out and on to them. Past Blake shoved Dr. Peters back. "What are you doing?!"

"What we discussed!"

Blake shook her head at him, "not like this. She needs to understand. Now, she's just freaked out!!"

"Then you handle it!" Dr. Peters shoved the gun into her hands and stalked off.

It was up to her.

Following after the future Blake, past Blake carefully turned the corner of the building. Only to get a foot to her belly. Already in pain, the strike had Blake on the ground. It felt like her belly burst, spreading blood and fluids through the rest of her insides.

Future Blake fell too. Anything that happened to the past affected the future. They were only twelve hours apart, not enough time for a stomach eruption to stop hurting.

"Blake," past Blake gasped, "we're going to die."

Future Blake shook her head, "no, no. I went back! Why didn't you go back?!"

"They were all dead!" Past Blake screamed, her vision beginning to fade. "I can't go back. And if we both stay here, we will die!"

"That's not . . . the only one dead was Dr. Kells. I warned him that he was dead and I didn't know how. But he was, and the other scientists were around him, so they had to know what happened. I broke protocol and whispered it to him. He was supposed to live. And you were supposed to go back!"

Her future self told one man he would die in twelve hours, and instead, six were dead? "Did the police tell you what happened?" Future Blake shook her head. "Dr. Peters was right. We caused this. You caused it. And now you have to pay the price." Past Blake got to her feet with some struggle, then aimed the gun at her future. "You have to die, or we will both stop existing."

"Why me?" Future Blake begged.

"If I die, then you die. It's simple when you think about it."

Future Blake's face was covered with tears and resolution. "I die, you take my place, and we . . . live on?"

"As best . . . as I can."

This was it, the fix in time and Blake's salvation. Future Blake nodded and closed her eyes, ready for her death. It wasn't really death. They were one and the same. That's what past Blake told herself as she aimed for her heart. It wasn't murder since killing herself would allow her to live. No one would truly die today. Except for the scientists, there was no fix for that, sadly.

Past Blake closed her eyes too. Watching herself die would be too much. The sound of the gun wasn't as loud as Blake thought it would be. And the pain was still there, growing until it turned to numbness. Future Blake opened her eyes and watched red bloom on past Blake's chest. Her eyes went dull, and past Blake fell to the dirty cement, dead.

A cop stood a short distance, slowly lowering his gun. Future Blake was in shock. She had just watched herself die, but that was her past self. Which meant . . .

The cop was approaching, yelling something, but Blake couldn't hear a word. It was like her ears were filled with water or dirt. She saw the black blood pool on her chest, exactly where her past self was shot.

The young cop stood over Blake, trying to get her to her feet, but they wouldn't move. She reached over, lifting a leg of her pants. The skin was pale and blueish like a corpse. No matter what the cop or anyone else did, it was over. Blake was already dead.

Dr. Peters shoved the cop away and grabbed Blake, shaking her. But then he looked to the other Blake, the one dead. Understanding covered his face, and he grew still. His mouth moved, but Blake couldn't hear him. Her eyes were dying, and the world was turning grey. Dr. Peters spoke slowly, and Blake focused on his mouth as he said the same thing repeatedly.

"Sorry."

AN: This story is dedicated to my dear friend Natalie who likes unhappy endings now and then.

New to the webpage and you, there’s now a newsletter you can sign up for! It’ll include previews and behind the scenes info. Get first looks and discounts in the future. You can also sign up to be on my launch team. Details for that will be in the first newsletter. Sign up today so you don’t miss a thing!!!

Join the Growing Pains launch team today and stay for every book published!!!

Copyright © 2022 Allison Achibane

All rights reserved.

I know there are a lot of “how to get published” articles out there but believe me, this isn’t one of them. Instead of telling you what you already know (since you’ve read it all at least ten times now), I thought I would just tell my story. From the beginning….

Just like everyone else, my first experience of writing comes from school. Not college or high school. Middle school is when you really start to form opinions and put them into paragraph format. You know, the format that was ingrained in you so much that your first couple of essays in college suffered from it? The five-paragraph structure isn’t that bad of a start but no one does a good job of explaining to the kids “this is just a start”. Or more importantly, pointing out “this is for the test!”

Let me backtrack for a second because I know some of you reading this didn’t grow up in America. You have your own kids in school now so you probably know what I’m talking about but I also have some international readers. To be safe, America’s education system is all about ’the test’. Standardized testing is the monster that looms over every classroom teacher in the US. Because it isn’t truly unbiased or ‘standard’, our youths are forced to submit to it quarter after quarter. Sure, it shows growth, but it’s not a fair assessment and kids get left behind while teachers get fired.

Starting in third grade, we were expected to take a writing test. This is across the country and I’m not sure if they still do it but in my home state, it was yearly and it was serious. First, it was narrative, then persuasive. The narrative I did fine on, it was persuasive I failed. So I had to stay after school to be tutored for my writing. Why does any of this matter? Well, other than it is a setback for my self-esteem in writing, there is an important point I’m going to make. I’m a terrible speller. I’ve gotten better and spell check is my friend (most times) but after two weeks of tutoring (meeting once a week after school), my teacher released me. Why? Because she said, “your writing is good but your spelling is so bad the grader for the test probably got frustrated and failed you.” Mind you, we’re not supposed to be graded on spelling just formatting an essay and forming an argument.

This is the system I was graded on.

After that, it was teacher after teacher telling me I was good but never pushing me or bragging about me. There were students they bragged about so I assumed it was me. If you never have anyone cheering you on or telling you that you have a gift, you're likely to move on to something else. I did that as much as I could. It wasn't until college that I actually began thinking about writing as anything other than something to get graded on.

It was English 101 because even though I took AP courses in High School, no one told me I was good at Literature or writing. So I started at the beginning for fear of failing at the college level. The teacher was a grad student and very nice. It was her encouragement that led me to my first blog. It was a bit like this one, opinionated and only friends and family were reading it. But it was mine and I got accolades for it. That was my beginning in writing. Which is still a long way off from writing short stories and novels. But it was a start.

Who knows where I would be now if someone before my English 101 teacher in college had encouraged me as she had...

To be continued....

I only went in for some potting soil.

Seems a constant need of my chosen toll.

There front and center was this potted temptation,

Completely unneeded and demanding my attention.

A small cost for a fleeting pleasure

The appeal primeval, a joy in my leisure.

There was a time when they came for free,

From a grandmother’s porch or a friend’s moving debris.

But with more strings and promises to keep,

For you alone stand between it and life’s long sleep.

Thus grew the skills to see it flourishing.

By the timely watering, care, and nourishing.

So, my trophy goes into my cart,

A token of things once given from the heart.

So, by their simple, generous deed,

They, in me, planted a gardening seed.

A.A.’s Dad

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No matter how much we wish, they were real.

Copyright © 2019 Allison Achibane

All rights reserved.

My feet struggled to find purchase, rounding the corner so quickly, a speed I was sure my body was never meant to meet. Hence, I was flailing my arms in a circle to keep my face off the pavement. Somehow managing to stay upright, I didn’t stop. My heart, legs, and lungs begged me to while my brain was still screaming, “HURRY UP!!!”

There was little other thought; speed, I needed more speed. Because my little human legs weren’t enough, but they had to be. I had to get away, get there. There was safe. I didn’t know where there was… yet. I’d know when I got there. With no one else around, the streets empty in an eerie, apocalyptic manner; this was not the place I needed to be.

Why couldn’t it be zombies? I had watched years’ worth of films and read ‘survival’ guides. Although terrifying, I felt far more prepared for zombies than this. I had a baseball bat and plenty of canned foods. Take off all my shoelaces (trip hazard, come on newbs) and I was good to go for at least a month.

But no! It had to be a giant, horrid monster tearing apart the city like a toddler throwing a tantrum. And I would know, my own toddler threw a tantrum when I left her and her brother in the ‘safe zone’.

Turning another corner, I had the beast in my sights, even though far away still. It was that large. In my peripheral, I saw the green of army men and machines. They were setting up for an attack, so my time was limited—even more than before.

With the element of surprise, I was able to fly over the barrier they had set and only tumble a little, keeping my forward projection. A few shouted; that was all they could do from the shock.

Because who would be crazy enough to run towards the monster?

The last thing I heard before the beast's growls covered up all other sounds was one particular soldier with a booming voice. “HEY, LADY! GET OUT OF THERE!!”

But it was too late, slowing my pace as the creature turned to me. Its long snout reminded me of a dog, while the drooling it did was like it was teething. I shuddered to think of the massive sharp teeth popping through its gums. The inky black skin sparkled like onyx in the waning sunlight, almost looking like it was on fire. The long talons on its hands matched the ones on its feet, both long enough to leave marks in the earth for a pretty nice pool (an in-ground pool that went to five feet deep)

Most importantly, its eyes, bright green and shimmery like a precious gem. And they were pointed right on me.

oOo

They didn’t get it. None of them understood. And how could they?

Sitting at the breakfast table, I watched my family go through their usual routine. Mom was trying to get Suzy (my two-year-old sister) to eat some oatmeal while Tony (my seven-year-old brother) munched on toast; both were getting the food all over them. In contrast, I sat silent and watched with my soggy cereal.

Mom was late for work (as usual) and dad had left years ago. She was making me the man of the house—what a joke. The last thing I ever wanted was the title of man over anything.

“Josh, are you ready to go?” Mom asked, looking at me briefly over her shoulder. Suzy dropped a wad of oatmeal on Mom’s skirt, and she swore under her breath. “Can’t I go outside once without food all over me?”

Suzy just giggled at Mom’s frustration. Toddlers were such jerks. “I’m ready, Mom.”

Looking back at me, it was like Mom had forgotten what she asked—but then frowned back at me. “Don’t sound so excited about it.”

“Who’s excited for High School?”

“I was!” Mom yelled a little.

I flopped to the back of my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. But it was already starting to beat funny from my anxiety. “Normal people are always happy about school.”

“You are normal.”

There was nothing I could say to that. This conversation, argument, yelling fest was old. And mom didn’t get it; she never even tried. Too busy with work and my normal siblings. I was everything but normal regardless of what my mother told me and others.

Wonder if she knew I heard the lies she told others? Parents, colleagues, friends? I heard it all; every late-night phone conversation when she thought I was asleep. The lies that rolled off her tongue at parent-teacher conferences. Even the lies she told herself in the mirror; I heard those too.

‘Everything is fine, everything is how it should be, my son is fine’ was just a lie.

My peers could see it, eyes following me as I walked down the halls. It was why no one talked to me, save for those who shoved me into trash cans or walls. People did strange things when they were afraid. That was my only solace; that they were afraid of me. It didn’t give me much, though; I was scared of myself.

Even the teachers looked my way and turned their noses up in disgust. I was pretty sure they all passed me, so they didn’t have to keep me. Everyone wanted me gone.

I wanted to be gone. I wanted to be far from this school, these people. Somewhere I could be completely alone, even from my family. I just wanted to be left alone.

However, you don’t always get what you want, my head getting shoved to the side and my body following right after. It still hit first, pain radiating all around my skull from the impact. At least they didn’t stop for a ‘chat’ this time, laughing as they continued their way to class. So I did the same, sitting in my seat and praying just to disappear. Or change into someone unrecognizable.

I’d give anything to be someone or something else.

oOo

There was little doubt in my mind that the military would wait, that they would care about the one civilian when there were thousands to consider. Being here with the large… thing wasn’t going to change their plans in the slightest. Neither I nor it was safe.

But someone essential to me was inside this creature, and I had to get him out.

I had lost the creature’s attention, going back to working its way to the other side of the city and wrecking things in its path. Waving my arms got it back, flicking large orange eyes in my direction. “I know you can hear me! I know you can understand me too. I’m begging you, give me back my son!!!”

oOo

Everyone was screaming. I didn’t understand; I was the one who should be. I was the one hit.

Another day another bully. It was the same as any other day. But this one hurt more than any other times before. All the way down to my bones. It was like they were cracking from the pain in my body. Or causing the pain, I wasn’t sure anymore.

The screams that pierced my brain weren’t helping. I wanted them to be quiet, all of them. I tried to get away! Away from happy kids who went about their everyday lives with ease. From judgmental eyes that came from adults and those my age as well. I was different; I got that. It wasn’t like I could do anything about it. And why should I? Just because I wasn’t like them didn’t mean I was wrong.

Maybe they were the ones wrong?

Maybe they were the ones that didn’t blend in with me?! Why was it that I was the one that needed to change? No, it was them. They needed to change, to accept. Not me.

The building was shaking, and pieces of it were falling around me. The screaming turned from random sounds to words. Not that it made any more sense than it had before. Because now everyone was screaming ‘Monster’ like an eighties horror film. I was somehow tossed into a Godzilla movie because everyone was running and screaming, falling over themselves and others just to get away. I couldn’t see what it was that had them all so scared. Everything had gotten so dark. And then black.

oOo

I didn’t know if it could understand me, its orange eyes turning beady as it glared at me. I was scared; there was no denying it. It would only be a lie to myself and to the creature before me, and I had done enough of that. “Josh’s father… he was just like you. Different. He never let it show, but I know it bothered him.” It tilted its head at me, confused. I could hear the question it didn’t ask in my head anyway. “I just wanted you to know that… I understand! I understand the struggle it can be to be… different.” It shook its head violently at that and threw a clawed fist into a building, crumbling it with one blow. “I do! I do, I swear, and…” my vision blurred, and tears flooded my cheeks, scorching hot against my skin that was frozen with fear, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, Josh! I wanted you to feel normal; I really did. No parent wants their child to feel anything like hate. And hate comes with fear. So I… I wanted you to feel normal, so I ignored it. I denied the truth, and I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you! I love you just the way you are, baby!”

The creature shrugged and turned away so I chased (as much as I could) after it. The ground shook with each step it took, knocking me off my feet but I got back up. Knocked down again, I struggle this time, rubble digging into my knees and making my palms bleed. There was no getting up from this, not anymore.

“Wait! Please! I know… I know you’re scared! I’m scared too!” It stopped but only for a moment. Then it continued to move away from me. “Josh stop!!” And it did. “I’ve known since you were born what you were, but I didn’t want you to be scared! So I was scared for you! I lied and denied; all so you wouldn’t have a day like this one. But I failed you….”

Josh spun, his claws taking up huge chunks of the ground with it and he got on his hands and knees to look me dead in the eyes. And roar.

It nearly lifted me off the ground and threw me back. But I held on, grabbing fistfuls of the broken pavement to keep from disappearing. Josh stilled and loomed over me, rage in his eyes that I put there.

“This isn’t the answer, Josh. I know you’re hurt but hurting others isn’t the way. And…” I choked on a sob but swallowed it quickly, “they’re going to kill you.”

He shrugged again, and my heart shattered. My baby didn’t care if he died. But I did, pushing to my feet and running. My fists were hitting his cheeks before I could stop myself. Not that I regretted it, I wanted to smack the sense into him.

“You’re a child! You have your whole life ahead of you! This isn’t how it ends for you, Josh. I won’t let it! I’ll protect you the way I always should have. I won’t let them have you. And you can growl, groan, scowl, hell even hit me, but I’ll never give up on you!”

I was shaking, feeling nothing but loss. I had lost. My child didn’t want to live; I had failed him.

My knees hit the ground again, hard. I didn’t feel any pain. I was numb. It wasn’t until arms wrapped around me (thin and shaking) that I felt anything. My boy, my beautiful boy, had returned to me. He was battered and beaten, but as I looked into his glowing orange eyes, I knew he was still the same child I gave birth to. He could change into any creature he chose, and I would still see him as my child.

He groaned as I held him tightly; I never wanted to let go of him again. Especially with the sound of boots on the broken ground, the military was approaching us fast. So I pulled Josh back to look him in his beautiful face again. “I won’t let them have you. You’re my baby. You are perfect just the way you are, and they can’t have you.”

“No more lying. Mom.”

I gave him a nod and held him to me as the gun surrounded us. I would keep my promises. No one would take Josh, and I wouldn’t lie anymore. Things weren’t alright, but as long as he was safe and happy, we would be satisfied. And that meant no more denying who he was.

Josh was different. But that didn’t make him lesser or a monster.

Copyright © 2021 Allison Achibane

All rights reserved.

Today was the day. I nervously thumbed the end of my scarf as I walked across the campus towards my first class. In the middle of my senior year semester, I still didn’t have any close friends from here. I only went to this school because it was close to home. My new home, not the one I grew up in.

It had been a year since I married my husband and moved in together. The only reason I walked across campus was due to our different majors. I was English, and he was Engineering. And if I wanted a ride to school, I had to arrive hours before my first class and trek across from one end to the other. If I let something like our difference in career choices bother me, we never would have gotten married.

The thing is, my husband is a Muslim, and I was agnostic.

Add in being from a different country, and you have more differences than similarities. Even with struggling sometimes, we still loved each other enough to get married. And put up with one another for the rest of our lives. We are the true definition of opposites attracting.

This has something to do with my current nervousness as I entered my classroom. When we married, I converted to Islam. What many don’t know is that conversion does not mean coverage. Just because you’re a Muslim doesn’t mean you have to wear a scarf around your head. It doesn’t mean you have to wear baggy clothing that hides your feminine shape. It is a choice made by the woman; to cover or not to cover.

It doesn’t mean that some aren’t forced, but my husband never forced me. He asked me. It had been a year since I converted, so he asked me nicely to start covering. His words were, “I gave you a year to get comfortable, but now I would really like it if you covered. It would make me and God happy.” So today, after being known by my classmates for months as one in the crowd, I now wore Hijab and stood out.

I wondered if anyone would say anything? Or if they would ask me questions? Would anyone not want to sit close to me now that I publicly declared my beliefs? Sure, plenty of people walk around with a cross necklace on but given that I lived in the Southern States of America, wearing a scarf around my hair and neck stood out as ‘different’ far more.

Class wore on, but not even my professors blinked twice at me. It probably had something to do with recently studying One Thousand and One Nights and mentioning my Islamic culture knowledge. The only difference now was I no longer had to say I was Muslim. It was clear as day.

Something that wouldn’t change as the years passed, the eyes that lingered. After all, I am a convert; I was raised in a Southern Baptist home. My skin is a peachy white, not a drop of tan or olive in it. My family tree can be traced back to the Mayflower and before that, Scotland and Whales. Nothing about me screams Muslim until I put on my Hijab. Some people do a double-take when they hear me speak. I have a Southern accent and not one of an ESL.

That said, I have never felt more like myself than I do wearing the markers of a Muslim. After taking it as my religion and following the beliefs, I proudly display them without saying a word. I love it when someone does ask me a question. But the best part is knowing that I rock the system of beliefs set in place about Muslims just by being my true self. I’m not the norm; I didn’t convert as a means of rebelling against my family’s religion. And I didn’t grow up in a culture where Islam was a possibility. However, I choose it for its beauty and strength—something I like to show the world when I happily enter the public eye and show the joy I have with my life.

Someday, my daughter might choose to dress like me. Whatever she decides, it will be her choice. And I know that covered or not, it will be her true self. And I cannot be upset with that!

#hijabi #conversion #revert #nonfiction #writer