Land of a Million Stars
when she stands under my colors
At home, Frankie was making dinner. The house smelled of spaghetti but underneath, I could smell the distinct smell of whiskey. When I walked into the kitchen, I noticed that Frankie was very jumpy which could only mean one thing: Zeke had been drinking.
Mom was nowhere to be found and I couldn’t sense if she was in the house. But Zeke was in the back and I wondered why I didn’t realize he was drunk sooner. He was yelling up a storm. And when I went outside, I saw he was yelling at Wade.
“You fuckin’ killed her, you bastard!” Zeke yelled. There was a large hole in the fence and an ax lay on the ground. Zeke had chopped his way through our backyard.
“I didn’t kill her,” Wade repeated calmly. Wade was always like that. The angrier he got, the more strangely calm his voice got. It used to drive me up the wall because I, like my brother, had a ravenous temper.
“Bullshit. She’s dead, isn’t she? I’ve been gone. Frankie’s been gone. Who else could have killed her? It was you.” I approached the two boys and only then did I realize that Zeke had a gun. I felt cold. It was the first time I’d felt this way.
“It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an accident,” Wade said. Zeke growled and lifted the gun, cocking it.
“No!” I screamed. But no one heard me.
Wade’s eyes widened and his face went white. “Zeke,” he said, “put the gun down.”
Zeke shook his head, his eyes blurring over with tears. “No,” he said. “Not until you tell me the truth. Why’d you kill her? Why?”
“I didn’t,” Wade insisted. The calm look was gone and he was getting nervous.
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t let Zeke kill Wade. And if Wade said he killed me, Zeke would kill him anyways. I closed my eyes and focused my energy. I tried to recreate the feeling I got whenever the lily scent flowed. But it wouldn’t come and I didn’t smell the lilies. I was running out of time and options.
Quinn’s image filled my brain. He had seen me. Or, he’d thought he’d seen me. Maybe if he did see me, he could call the cops. It’d be bad if Zeke got caught with a gun, but it’d be even worse if he got caught with a dead body. I knew Frankie wouldn’t call the cops. He was inside pretending this wasn’t happening.
Quinn was my only choice.
I was there almost instantly. Quinn had been on his bed. Or, his mattress. There weren’t any sheets on it, just a blanket and a lonely white pillow.
“Shit!” Quinn yelled, jumping off his bed. He stared at me, eyes wide. He was only in jeans and I could see that he was pretty well defined.
“So you can see me,” I said.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “Wait – you say that like it’s weird.”
“It is,” I said. “But I’ll explain later. Right now, I need your help.”
“Who the hell are you?” he asked. Quinn’s hand twitched towards the door knob he was standing by.
“My name’s Ella. I need your help. Please. We don’t have much time.” I must have looked urgent or something because Quinn grabbed a shirt and yanked it over his head.
“Yeah?” he asked. “With what?”
“I need you to call 911 and tell them to please hurry to 395 Crescent Street,” I said.
“That’s just right down the road, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Please. Quinn, I’m begging you.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Quinn!”
“Alright, alright.” Quinn grabbed a cell phone and punched in the numbers. “Uh, yeah. We have an emergency at 395 Crescent Street. They need assistance immediately. It’s, uh, life or death.”
He had no idea how right he was. I tapped my foot impatiently, twirling a curly lock of hair around my finger. When Quinn hung up, he looked at me. “Now, explain,” he said.
“Can’t now. I will later. I promise!” And then I disappeared. I was back in my backyard, looking at Zeke. Wade was behind me. Zeke was screaming at Wade and I watched as his finger came over the trigger.
“No!” I yelled, putting my hands up. And I smelled the lilies. It appeared out of nowhere and engulfed everything.
He killed my sister. He killed her. Now I’m going to kill him.
It was Zeke’s voice, inside my head. I could hear it clearly. “Zeke, don’t,” I said. Lights flashed in our front yard, sirens wailing.
“Ella?” Zeke asked. But I didn’t get to see if he heard me or saw me because the police came around the corner and out our back door and they tackled Zeke after they saw his gun. The smell evaporated and barely lingered this time. I felt weak, so weak. Stars sparked my vision and the edges darkened. And I was gone.
Mom was nowhere to be found and I couldn’t sense if she was in the house. But Zeke was in the back and I wondered why I didn’t realize he was drunk sooner. He was yelling up a storm. And when I went outside, I saw he was yelling at Wade.
“You fuckin’ killed her, you bastard!” Zeke yelled. There was a large hole in the fence and an ax lay on the ground. Zeke had chopped his way through our backyard.
“I didn’t kill her,” Wade repeated calmly. Wade was always like that. The angrier he got, the more strangely calm his voice got. It used to drive me up the wall because I, like my brother, had a ravenous temper.
“Bullshit. She’s dead, isn’t she? I’ve been gone. Frankie’s been gone. Who else could have killed her? It was you.” I approached the two boys and only then did I realize that Zeke had a gun. I felt cold. It was the first time I’d felt this way.
“It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an accident,” Wade said. Zeke growled and lifted the gun, cocking it.
“No!” I screamed. But no one heard me.
Wade’s eyes widened and his face went white. “Zeke,” he said, “put the gun down.”
Zeke shook his head, his eyes blurring over with tears. “No,” he said. “Not until you tell me the truth. Why’d you kill her? Why?”
“I didn’t,” Wade insisted. The calm look was gone and he was getting nervous.
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t let Zeke kill Wade. And if Wade said he killed me, Zeke would kill him anyways. I closed my eyes and focused my energy. I tried to recreate the feeling I got whenever the lily scent flowed. But it wouldn’t come and I didn’t smell the lilies. I was running out of time and options.
Quinn’s image filled my brain. He had seen me. Or, he’d thought he’d seen me. Maybe if he did see me, he could call the cops. It’d be bad if Zeke got caught with a gun, but it’d be even worse if he got caught with a dead body. I knew Frankie wouldn’t call the cops. He was inside pretending this wasn’t happening.
Quinn was my only choice.
I was there almost instantly. Quinn had been on his bed. Or, his mattress. There weren’t any sheets on it, just a blanket and a lonely white pillow.
“Shit!” Quinn yelled, jumping off his bed. He stared at me, eyes wide. He was only in jeans and I could see that he was pretty well defined.
“So you can see me,” I said.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “Wait – you say that like it’s weird.”
“It is,” I said. “But I’ll explain later. Right now, I need your help.”
“Who the hell are you?” he asked. Quinn’s hand twitched towards the door knob he was standing by.
“My name’s Ella. I need your help. Please. We don’t have much time.” I must have looked urgent or something because Quinn grabbed a shirt and yanked it over his head.
“Yeah?” he asked. “With what?”
“I need you to call 911 and tell them to please hurry to 395 Crescent Street,” I said.
“That’s just right down the road, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Please. Quinn, I’m begging you.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Quinn!”
“Alright, alright.” Quinn grabbed a cell phone and punched in the numbers. “Uh, yeah. We have an emergency at 395 Crescent Street. They need assistance immediately. It’s, uh, life or death.”
He had no idea how right he was. I tapped my foot impatiently, twirling a curly lock of hair around my finger. When Quinn hung up, he looked at me. “Now, explain,” he said.
“Can’t now. I will later. I promise!” And then I disappeared. I was back in my backyard, looking at Zeke. Wade was behind me. Zeke was screaming at Wade and I watched as his finger came over the trigger.
“No!” I yelled, putting my hands up. And I smelled the lilies. It appeared out of nowhere and engulfed everything.
He killed my sister. He killed her. Now I’m going to kill him.
It was Zeke’s voice, inside my head. I could hear it clearly. “Zeke, don’t,” I said. Lights flashed in our front yard, sirens wailing.
“Ella?” Zeke asked. But I didn’t get to see if he heard me or saw me because the police came around the corner and out our back door and they tackled Zeke after they saw his gun. The smell evaporated and barely lingered this time. I felt weak, so weak. Stars sparked my vision and the edges darkened. And I was gone.