The Jewel Heist Reflection

Three super hero’s run down the streets of Wheresville, a city protected by the mythical Supers: genetically modified individuals who use their powers for humanity. They all wear black spandex with colored accents. Weapon is glowing with gold, Dinoboy radiates with ruby, and Copycat is shrouded in a sapphire hue. They run in formation, Weapon taking up the front with Dinoboy and Copycat following behind on either side. The moon shining above creates a mystical aura as its borrowed light bounces off of the skyscraper windows. It was the only light that showed through the dense vines and lightless street lamps that passed the heroes as they continued down the deserted avenue. 

“What is all this?” Copycat asked his brothers. 

“I don’t know, I don’t remember this area of the city having a forest,” Dinoboy answered with a grin in his voice. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Weapon concluded. “We must find the source of it and reverse the damage, for the people.” 

“For the people!” Copycat and Dinoboy said in unison. 

They ran the rest of the avenue and turned onto the main road which had a large white building with grand pillars. Its roof curved up, creating an immaculate white dome. Large lanterns hung from underneath the eaves of the structure, giving a faint light in the darkness. 

“The bank still looks intact,” Dinoboy grunted, he wiped sweat from his forehead. The heroes approached the lanterns closer, and one by one the four hanging flames were snuffed.

“You just had to say something, didn’t you?” Copycat quipped. 

“Enough, both of you. Save it for them,” Weapon shouted, pointing at three figures at the top of the marble stairs. The man in the center held his arms out and a burst of purple erupted from his hands, desecrating the large double doors that were four times his size. The man looked back and nodded to the other two individuals, who began stepping down the steps as he made his way into the bank. After a moment, the three heroes stopped and narrowed their eyes on the two descending to them. 

“Well, Necroshade and Mother Nature, it shows that criminals truly don’t learn,” Weapon sneered. He stepped one foot back and brought his arms up. A visor materialized over his eyes for protection. Copycat and Dinoboy held position, they had learned they had to fight together against these powerful foes. 

“Such a warm welcome, young Weapon,” Necroshade said. He was mostly hidden under his long cloak. He held metal chains in his hands, an ornate lantern was at the end of it, decorated with reds and golds; a green flame gently burned in its chamber. “Unfortunately, the next life is yearning for your soul.” He took both his arms over his head and swung in one solid motion, releasing the chains from one hand as he came full circle. The flame in the lantern brewed violently, jets of fire launched towards the three heroes. Weapon held his arms up together, fusing together and projecting a gold barrier which extinguished the ghoulish flame. The other two doged to their lefts, landing out of the way of the frenzied flame. 

The other figure, a woman with chartreuse skin and flaming red hair, began charging at Dinoboy and Copycat. She raised her arms to both sides and the ground shattered and dozens of vines shot out of the destroyed concrete towards the two hero’s. Copycat and Dinoboy locked eyes and nodded, Dinoboy’s body began to grow scales, the air grew hot around him, and his suit began to stretch, bursting in bits exposing the transformed body. Copycat began shaping as well, but instead of a creature he appeared as Weapon, still dawning a blue hue. Copycat changed his Weapon’s arm into a double-edged axe, and began chopping down the assaulting vines. Dinoboy used his arm and slashed through the tendrils attempting to incapacitate him. 

“Fools, have you no idea of our plans! Why bother even trying to stop us?” Mother Nature cackled, her eyes glistened ruby in the night. She stopped running, but continued summoning vines with a methodic wave of her hands. Trees nearby began to uproot and walk towards the two heroes still in her sights. Weapon returned his arms to normal and began running towards her, but as soon as he got close to Mother Nature, Necroshade lantern hit him right in the head, Weapon’s head hurt and he felt a bit of his soul burn away from the heat of soul fire. 

“Nuh-uh, Weapon. I’m afraid you are still dancing with me,” Necroshade sneered, he whipped the long chain over his head once more and hurled it at Weapon. Weapon’s visor recognized the maneuver from before and advised Weapon to jump, and as he did he molded his left arm into a marvelous gold sword which he latched onto the black metal of the lich chain. The chain wrapped at the counterforce, and noodled around the sword. Despite his arm holding, the cold metal sent shreds of pain into Weapons body and he let out a scream and fell to his knees. 

“Already tired? What a pity. I was looking forward to an all night soirée!” Necroshade laughed. Weapon whipped the chain away and began getting to his feet, facing the lich. “Now, that’s what I like to see!” Necroshade quit laughing and held his lantern out in front of him, taking his other hand and opening his bony palm. A door to the lantern opened and the green soul flame plumed towards Weapon. Weapon’s arms transformed into a metal alloy screen to protect himself as he ran out of the stream. The flames honed on Weapons movement as the lich continued his frenzied siege. Weapon stopped and started walking towards the flame, his body taking a great deal of burn from the evercoming onslaught. Each step Weapon gritted his teeth and he closed his eyes, the never ending flames created more blisters upon his very psyche. “You really want to keep going, you know everyone who has challenged me has succumbed to their fear…” 

The flame stopped, and Weapon felt each blister pop a sweet pain of relief. He could smell the crimson liquid falling from his nose. He opened his eyes and saw Dinoboy transformed the largest he has ever seen, his body now 3 times his original size. His face is more reptilian than human, and his jaws are attempting to break through a green protection barrier being channeled by Necroshade. Weapon begins closing the space between himself and the lich, he ready his arm into a battering rams and picks up speed at the cloaked skeleton, crashing into and breaking the barrier and sending Necroshade flying into the stone stairs behind him. 

Mother Nature turns her attention to her fallen ally and retreats to him. Weapon and Dinoboy begin their pursuit. Copycat follows and fiddles with his flashing red belt buckle. The three of them ascend the stairs, closing in on the bundle of bones and forest witch who has caused chaos in the city for a little over a year. Weapon changed his arm into a cannon and aimed at the two, the woman tended to the man who was still lying on the floor. He shot, and a large net fell towards the twos direction which then glowed a dark purple, stopping the net and sending it back towards the oncoming heroes. Weapon jumped, but the net snared Copycat bringing him to the ground with a thud. Dinoboy reformed into his human form, the scraps from his suit clung to his body as he helped Copycat from the net and Weapon stopped in his tracks, his arm forming into the golden sword. 

“Tsk tsk, Weapon. Your opponent is unarmed and you attempt to rid them from the field in that manner?” A man stood at the top of the stairs. He wore dark glasses and his hair was long and black, the luster of the moon revealed his purple highlights. His clothes were white and he had a purple aura around him. 

“Psycho, come to your senses. Turn yourself in.” 

“You make it sound as if I have done something wrong,” Psycho retorted, his smile widened. He held two stones in his hands, one of deep sapphire and one of radiant emerald. 

“Breakfast is ready!” The game was over. 

The world around the characters began to shift. Where once stood a marble bank was now occupied by a black couch with cracking pleather. The road beneath was plush carpet of the basement and the sky above now had cottage cheesed ceilings with recessed lighting. Home. 

“Be right up!” We all yell. My brothers and I run down the hall, pass the bathroom, and up the stairs to a feast of buttermilk pancakes with homemade syrup, scrambled eggs with ketchup, potato cakes and pounds and pounds of bacon. Occasionally we would have breakfast potatoes and onions, but that was only when the goddess we call Mom deemed it so. We sat and ate and talked about how great it was playing pretend downstairs. We filled our plates again and again with more food and reminisced about the fun Mario Party game we played last night; it’s always best when there are four players. However, at the age of thirteen, I realized my brothers had begun to overtake me in the video game department. 

“Austen,” Mom called me from the breakfast-babble. I looked into her beautiful brown eyes and listened. “Your father and I are going out for the day. We will have our cell phones and the emergency numbers are on the cupboard door. Oh, and there is leftover pizza in the fridge for your brothers.” 

“Sounds good Mom,” I smiled back and returned to the brothers' chatter, now discussing who is the strongest kaiju in the Godzilla franchise. My parents say goodbye, my youngest brother runs to the hallway to get a hug from both of them. I peer into the hallway and see Mom bend down and give him a real hug, a warm hug. She gets up and follows Dad out into the garage as we tidy up breakfast. Out of habit, I look at the clock and see that it is 10AM. 

“It’s time!” I scream with excitement. 

“Pokémon!” My three brothers respond with similar gusto. 

We raced to the living room and found our usual seats upon the two white leather couches that were free of cracking. The second oldest after me picked up the remote and activated the large 40 inch television. The theme song came on and we escaped with Ash and friends as we explored the world of Pokémon. As my brothers all glared at the screen, I couldn’t fight the urge and turned to gazing out the window behind me, taking in our new picturesque surroundings.. It had been a few years since we moved, but I still found the cornfields and verdant hills behind our house such a mystical change of scenery from the city of business: Modesto. 

“I wish Pokémon were real,” the third oldest brother squeaked as the ending credits played. 

“Same,” the second oldest volleyed. 

“Me, too.” The youngest said with a laugh. 

“Well, they are not real,” I said, matter-of-factly. My brothers all looked at me, confusion on their faces. “But that doesn’t mean you cannot wish it. Mom is always saying we should go after our dreams, and that is a wonderful dream.” I smiled, thinking of the many nights Mom tucked me into bed. “What else do you dream? What do you dream to be when you grow up?” They sat in silence for a moment, the commercial on the television tried to take my attention, but the second oldest responded to my inquiry. 

“An actor on Broadway,” he started. “Maybe I’ll even sing and dance. A triple threat!” His smile was ear to ear and his eyes looked beyond me. 

“I want to be a train engineer,” the second oldest chimed, his white and blue striped conductor hat was a dead give away for his heart's yearning. 

“I want to be pink!” The youngest said, 4 year olds really see the world differently. We all laughed. 

“Pink sounds amazing,” I smiled, trying to keep the matter-of-factly attitude at bay. 

“How about you Austen?” The second oldest asked. I stared back out into the window and thought about all the amazing books I read during the summer. The many days of following Bobby Pendragon, Harry Potter, and the like. I wanted to escape into the worlds of a galaxy far far away and where humans boldly go where no one has gone before. I thought of the many days watching and then rewatching Disney VHS tapes, some bought, some from the movie rental store on Friday nights. All of this is what I wanted to be when I grow up. 

“A writer,” I said under my breath. “A writer,” I said with more confidence so that everyone could hear. “I want to write.

“You’re going to be the best writer ever,” the second oldest said. 

“I cannot wait to read what you write,” said the third oldest. 

“I love Vowels! They’re the glue!” Shouted the 4 year old. 

———

The library was smaller than I remember it 10 years ago, but that was probably from my own growth. Still, this library held whispers of secrets and stories from near and far away places. I approached the service desk and waited for the librarian who was helping an older woman and a little girl. The little girl held her hand firmly as she looked about the sanctuary of knowledge. The old woman thanked the librarian and turned, the little girl followed closely. We made eye contact and I smiled and waved as I passed and took their position in front of the librarian. 

“Hello Austen,” The librarian said, her blond hair and glasses were the same as they would be at my parents house for cards. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?” 

“Hello Sue, I’m teaching the Odyssey this year and thought I’d check out some alternative texts. Would you be able to help?” 

“Of course! Your first year teaching and they have you on the Odyssey, that’s an exciting class. What else do they have on the curriculum?” She began typing at the computer while keeping eye contact with me. She glanced down at her screen every few seconds, but I could tell she had the screen in her peripheral. I opened my messenger bag and brought out the reading list for the semester. 

“In addition to the Odyssey, Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Antigone, and a refresher of parts of speech and grammar.” Sue wrote down a few numbers on a pink and white sticky note, ripped it off, and stood from her rolling chair. She motioned to me to follow and I kept pace with her like the little girl did to the old woman moments ago. We went down the stacks, books of different colors, shapes, and sizes created a kaleidoscope of other worlds, other voices. New experiences at every turn. Sue would pick a book or two out, only to tuck it under her arm and continue along. Eventually we ended in the graphic novel section, where she selected two more books before we returned to the service desk. 

“This should hopefully help you in your first year,” she began scanning the items. I noticed that she had selected a graphic novel of the Odyssey as well as Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

“I’m only full time teaching for the first semester, after that I am in a paraprofessional role for special education,” I admitted. 

“Regardless of your role, you are an amazing teacher. I am still amazed by your presentation on Cosplay you did for the library last October.” She said as she held out her hand and I gave her my book tote. 

“That was to only 3 people, Sue. I wouldn’t quite call it a class.” 

“Those three people came with curiosity and left with a thirst for more knowledge,” she said, matter-of-factly. A tone which I was used to using but not being on the receiving end. She finished placing the 13 books into my bag and handed me a receipt. “Let me know if you need these items extended.” She smiled, her blue eyes saw me and I couldn’t help but smile back. 

I arrived home. The air was filled with the aroma of pot roast dinner which had been slow cooking for almost 6 hours so far. I took my tote to the basement and placed it on my office desk, which was now in the corner of the basement where a peeling black couch once occupied. I removed the graphic novel of the Odyssey and went back upstairs to the family room, a space that was my favorite reading spot in the house. I sat on the gingham chair that I begged Mom to buy a few years back and rested my legs on the matching footrest. The afternoon sun peered through the blinds and I began to read about the tale of Odysseys. As I read, I thought of my own adventure at college I had finished and the new journey as a teacher I was about to embark on. 

The front door opened and my brothers and Mom returned. My brothers instantly made their way upstairs after kicking off their shoes. Mom used the back of her feet to step out of her slip ons and noticed me. 

“Hey,” Mom said, sitting in the twin gingham chair. 

“Hey,” I smiled, looking up from my book. 

“What you got there?” 

“Some books from the library. I never read the Odyssey, so I thought I better get ahead of my students before I start assigning readings.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan,” she laughed. I moved my eyes back to reading. 

“How did orientation go for them?” I asked, looking at the illustration of Odysseus outsmarting the Cyclops, only to gloat at the cost of his men. 

“Good, I think the teachers get it, ya know,” the it was ambiguous for some but not for others. Mom had fought hard for all her kids to get the education she felt was deserving of them. She wanted them to be encouraged, to be successful. She wanted their curiosity to always be something worth exploring. I glanced up from my book, noticing her eyes full of mist. 

“Why are you crying Mom?” I closed my book and brought my legs to the ground, turning my body to face my mother. “Is something wrong? Did someone die?”  

“No, nothing's wrong,” she reached onto the side table to get a tissue, dabbing her eyes gently as she stared at the ceiling. “I was just thinking how fast time has gone. Ten years ago you were just starting high school and now you’re about to teach it. Your youngest brother is entering high school and it’s just a lot.” I let her talk uninterrupted, she let out a large sigh or relief now that her words had escaped her head and were out in the world. 

“I guess I’m confused, why does that bring you tears?” 

“These are tears of joy, Austen. Sometimes you can cry when things are good.” She sniffed, wiping her nose with her tissue. 

“Like at a wedding?” I asked, trying to connect. 

“Yes, just like a wedding. It is a moment in life where tears can be for good.” I put my book down on the floor and got up to hug her. She hugged back, I could feel her heart easing. It was a good hug, a warm hug. “Thank you Austen, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mom.” She kissed me on the cheek. I broke away and she dabbed her eyes one more time. “Dinner smells amazing,” I blurted, wanting to change the subject, thinking it would make her feel better. 

“It should be ready in an hour.” Mom said. My youngest brother stampeded down the stairs with his 3DS in hand. 

“Austen, want to battle?” I looked to Mom and she nodded. I returned my book to my living space in the basement and retrieved my own 3DS. My brother and I battled a few times, each time I was able to hold my title as Pokémon Master of the house. Dinner was called which put an end to the battling, and I was over the moon at the savory taste and textures of the roast. The time spent chatting with my parents was even more satisfying. 

The evening turned into the next day, and then another day after that. I read and read, trying to learn every little thing I could decipher for what I was to teach over the next few months. Finally, the day came, the first day of school. My youngest two brothers were in their new outfits for the school year and Mom was up at 5am cooking us a hearty breakfast to send us out the door with. Mom always believed her kids needed full tummies to do their best learning. I came up the stairs and into the kitchen dressed in my own new clothes, the first set of clothes that I would teach in, ever. Mom looked up from the griddle as she turned the pancakes over. 

“Don’t you look handsome, Mr. Edman.” She put her flipper down and came and gave me a hug. She held me tight, her head resting on my chest. Another great hug. 

“Thanks Mom.”  

“Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t think so, but you keep asking me that and I might just say yes,” I stated, matter-of-factly. 

“Let’s get some breakfast in you,” she released me and returned to her griddle. I made a plate of scrambled eggs, beef sausage, hash browns, and two buttermilk pancakes. I said thank you to Mom and began eating, keeping an eye on the clock to make sure I wasn’t late for my first day. I took a bit of everything, and despite having had the same meal many times as before, this day felt special. I could taste the time and energy it took to create this delicious combination of food. The clock struck 6:45 and I knew I had to be on the road. I got up, grabbed my keys and tote bag and headed out the door. I sat in the car for a minute, plugging my phone into the car to get my music going. I looked through the songs, trying to find the right song to set the tone for this special day. Then, I saw it, the song that I had listened to on the first day of school every year since I could remember. I clicked play, put my phone down, and backed out of the driveway singing: I want to be the very best, like no one ever was…

———

I sit down for breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, breakfast potatoes, and raisin toast. Despite ten years passing and I am at the age of 33, I still happily enjoy each and one of these breakfast foods like its my first time. I sit at the same table that I ate many meals at, but now I look out a sliding glass door, my sliding glass door. I am astounded that it has been ten years since my first year teaching, how I taught 9-12 English to an array of students for three years. I think about the years I served and barista at a local bakery. I reflect on my current position, where I still teach, but I develop adults in the private workforce which brings stability but also more conformity. I am not one who enjoys conforming. 

“Good morning babe,” my partner says to me as he comes up from our basement. He hugs me and pecks a kiss on my cheek before going to the stove and filling a plate for himself. He sits at the family table and we enjoy each others company. The cats both make an appearance and sit near the table, keeping us in their sites. The light from the day gently glows through the double windows facing east, giving us warming natural light from the fall sun. “What do you have got going on today?” he asks, finishing his last piece of bacon. 

I don’t answer immediately. I take a look at the living room, the fireplace has a small collection of books on display for any who come into our sanctuary. I look at the olive green couch and smile as my heart is warmed by its sight. I think of the six remaining creatures I have to catch in Brilliant Diamond, and that almost escape my lips to respond to the inquiry. 

“Babe, are you good?” I try to open my mouth, but my heart is still on yesterday, on the three agents who I pitched my book. Each of those ten minute sessions ripped at my hopes, at my dreams. 

“I’m fine,” he looks deep in my eyes. “Really, I am. I’m just trying to get my thoughts together.” 

“If you say so, I’m going over to my grandparents. You going to be okay alone?” 

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” The matter-of-fact attitude emerges. I can feel it, I know I’m doing it, but I try to reel it in, knowing that i don’t need to be defensive. He looks at me, knowing I’m trying. He gives me space, thanking me for breakfast and leaves towards his errands for the day. I get up and move to the basement, sitting on the blue couch and stare out the ajar window letting in the crips fall air. My phone rings and I see it’s my Mom calling on the caller ID. 

“Hello Mom,” I say, my phone is doing the thing where it takes 5 seconds to connect a call. “Hello?” I say again. 

“Oh hey,” Mom says. “I wanted to call and check on how your thing went yesterday.” The pitching is what she meant. 

“It didn’t go entirely as planned, but I can’t say I’m surprised,” I share. I go into detail about how my word count was too short, how I didn’t have the right genre and age range for my book, how I wanted to stop and throw it all away and never think about writing again. 

“Austen, stop it.” She was direct with me. I could feel her words carried so much love and affection, they were strong. “You have worked so hard, you are so smart and you have been chasing this dream since you were a little kid.” I thought back to those usual Saturdays with my brothers, around the television set dreaming of what we would become. I thought of my brother who once dreamt of being a train engineer and now works as part of the railroad. My other brothers have created their very own karaoke business. Sure, it isn’t Broadway, but it is what they love. 

“I’m trying, I just don’t know if this is the dream anymore.” There was a pause on the phone. I reached over to the side table of the course and pulled a tissue, trying to hold back tears. 

“You know that isn’t true, Austen. You are a storyteller, which is part of being a writer. You have worked so hard and poured your soul into your writing. But the hard part is seeing the dream to its end,” I didn’t mean to hurt her, but I knew my words were making her tear up too. A spaceship flew in my head with an enchanting women and a daring explorer looking for a lost planet. I saw the world of Embrant shining beneath me, the sun showcasing all that the benevolent land had to offer. I thought of the Supers, the characters my brothers and I created to keep ourselves entertained and to enter into a world where anyone can make a difference. 

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Austen. I love you so much.” 

“Mom?” I asked after a moment of silence. 

“Yes?” 

“What were some of your dreams?” 

“Some of my dreams?” My mom asked back. I waited, she usually would repeat a question when asked, giving intentional thought. “Well, I wanted to be a fashion designer, have my own line. I created my own costumes for my pageants, you know?”

“I remember those stories. You would be an amazing fashion designer, Mom!” 

“Well thank you, it is still on my to do list, but there are only so many hours in the day.” I agreed to that, but her previous statement was still bouncing in my head. “Remember when you were all little, you would be down in the basement for hours playing whatever it is you were all doing. I may not have followed all your obsessions, but one thing I am so thankful for is the relationships you share. I wanted that to be one of the pillars of our family.” I thought to my brothers. Despite our different journeys, our different paths through this world, we all have remained quite close. 

“Me too, my brothers are amazing. I’m so lucky.”

“They think the same about you, Austen. Even if they don’t say it, they each love you very much.” 

We talked about how Mom and Dad were going to go to a winery for the afternoon, I talked about how I was going to take a break from my book to gather my thoughts. I shared that it’s wild that ten years ago I was getting ready for my first day of teaching, Moms words echoed in my head years ago when she had tears in her eyes in the gingham chairs. We neared the usual back and forth ending of our conversations, knowing we were all checked up, but enjoying each other’s company even over the phone. 

“Mom, before we go, what was the dream that derailed your fashion designer dream?” 

“Paused, not derailed,” she corrected. I apologized and asked again. “Well, I had four dreams, each one of them were my children. You, Austen, are one of my dreams.” My heart and head connected, a smile widened on my face, and I told her I loved her, and she told me she loved me, and our words were warm. I hung up, placed the phone face down on the coffee table and climbed the stairs to the living room, then climbed another set of stairs to the office. I sat at my tablet and began typing: 

“My plan will reveal itself in time, and my dream will come to fruition,” Psycho said as he placed the two gems into his pocket. He brought his hands centered, an orb of dark purple energy forming between them. He pulled his hands apart, causing the ball to grow in size. He pushed with both hands, sending the sphere directly at the three heroes.

The game has just begun.