It’s nothing special. A green pile of papers kept together with a spiral of metal and ‘SCIENCE’ scrawled across the cover in sharpie. Take it out. Put it on the desk and open it. You find notes, formulas, and data tables from labs. Now close it. Flip it over, and open it from the rough cardboard back. It’s just more writing...but it’s not the same. You find a world unlike your own. People unlike those you’ve met. An escape. You’re able to be someone else. Whether that means the chaotic villain or the confident hero. The world is not any more perfect than this one, it still has its issues, power struggles, and bad people. But at the same time, it’s better. It’s safer. Because at the end of the day you can give this world a happy ending if you so desire. That’s not always true about out there. Out there the world is a mess, people are always searching for the next thing to tear apart, for something different than themselves they can ridicule. Here? It’s just who we want to let in.

You asked me to introduce you to the others. I start with Jamie, she’s a formstealer. She meets someone she takes their form and deals with them before running off. She stays away from people mostly. Why get close when you have to cut them eventually. She’s figured out how to control this a while back and yet she’s still distant. It’s impossible to know if it will flare-up. No way to know if people you want to trust are safe. She lets them in, they make her smile, and when you try to let them in further they laugh. You hear for the hundredth time, that’s silly, that’s childish, that’s stupid. You’re fine. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. You’re such a child. Stop being so sentiv- . . .We went off track.

Let’s move on. In the Invisible Feilds, you have Libby. Her bright, too optimistic for her own good, lavender eyes serve as a dead giveaway to her shapeshifting magic. She tends to be on the more gullible side, once let her mentor do a spell on her soul claiming it’ll keep her safe. Safety. That tends to be the driving factor in her life. Who she trusts with what, where she goes. Never wanting to risk someone seeing her strange red soul. Never wanting someone to see the inside. After all, why would you? They see something weird or different and oops you’re alone again, oops you’re on your own again, oops now everyone knows that- ....I mean, now she’s in danger again. . . You reached out a hand but I pull away. I lie and say I’m fine.

Changing the subject you asked me what’s all out there. Beyond the pages, beyond this world. You say you can sometimes hear them talking to one another about class, homework, or the most recent drama, Typically someone getting made fun of. I told you to stop listening. There’s nothing out there but false faces and those who care until they realize you’re a lost cause. I ask you to focus here, the Floating Isles and its bizarre magic that lets sky-less worlds have rain and plants grow without sunlight. You ask about the newfound locks that showed up since last time. But bell sounds and people are told to quiet down. We stay here between the pages and within the graphite, where words become characters and worlds. Where the safe haven comes alive. Where they can’t hurt us. Because they aren’t allowed in. The bell chimes loudly singling for lunchtime. I have to go so I dawn back on the mask asking only for you to wait.

I didn’t come back right away. You came looking for me. Found me crying near the newest locked-up gate. You sat down and asked what was going on, why there was another lock, why, why, why. I snapped rage rushing through my veins. I screamed that I was tired of people pretending to care, pretending to want to help, and then discarding me the first chance they get. I collapsed to my knees as you came over putting your arm around me and staring at me with your lucky jade green eyes. Of course, you of all the creations would realize something was wrong. You had a sixth sense and could oftentimes feel when something wasn’t right. But it wasn’t just that...we were connected in a way, unlike the others. We shut people out before they shut us out, we hate being alone but don’t want to trust anyone, we both have shaky relationships with our families. I say that last one quieter not wanting to rehash last night’s fight. You ask me again about the locks. I admit that I let the wrong person in. I shared the world with them and they spilled it to everyone. I think it’s better that I close the place up. You punched me in the arm and told me to get a grip. Honestly, I deserved that. You remind me of the friends I still have and convince me to give them the key. I don’t want to. I think that’s the end of the conversation until a few days later I notice the locks look different. You give me a set of keys, and tell me I can start slow, only let them in where I want, and be careful. And that ended up being the best decision this little world of paper and protection ever saw.