As the futuristic Air Force One hovered in the sunset overlooking the city in its dire straights, a voice rang thick in the atmosphere summoning her as she straddled atop the aircraft, “She was a savant and a connoisseur, this was true, but she was so much more than just that. Was she … THE ONE?”

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She carried herself in disheveled and weary, laying down on the pew seats in the upper left-hand corner of the classroom auditorium amongst the others. She was late as the bells tolled. Nothing was new – she was always disheveled, for when one piece of her life came together in a glorious fashion, the other parts of her life seemed to fall spectacularly to pieces. And that usually included her outward appearance. At this point in her life, putting herself together on the outside was unnecessary and simply a waste of time. She had bigger things to worry about within.

She spotted her professor handing out exams to his students. Her hair was no longer the only thing in knots. Her heart jumped out of its lonely cavity and raced across the auditorium swallowing the atmosphere whole until it collapsed in on itself and shot back into her already tattered mind, rendering her completely useless … and hopelessly smitten.

Short-statured, dark-haired and painfully shy, he noticed her presence without lifting his head. He could hear her heart beat a mile away. He simply continued on with his task of handing out tests as a slight smile rounded the corner of his mouth. She was here. And today was her day. And he couldn’t have been prouder in that moment.


It was as if something important were about to happen the following week, as she sensed that this exam was the final one. She was shy and she was a loner. Everyone knew of her although she didn’t look the part.

She decided to boldly walk down the aisle toward her professor.

“I am glad this is today. Then I have time to mess up next week and it won’t be counted against me,” she said to his face as he handed her mason jars of clear liquid and a piece of paper, knowing full well that these were simply exams for the rest of the crew and that he had quite another plan in store for her and a select few.

He looked straight into her eyes and gasped. Sheepishly and feverishly he looked down, placing the tests on the composers desk in front of the stage. Gathering all his courage, he glanced back up to stare at her face to face. Her eyes had turned that morning into something miraculous, all a clue that she was indeed transforming. No one else noticed.

As if a sin, he apprehensively took his hand, that he had just placed in his pocket, and reached up toward her face.

“Your eyes. They’ve changed. They look wet. Have you been crying?” he asked softly, as he brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers motioning her to make a wish.

She was taken aback as this was the first time he had laid hands on her. Lightening coursed throughout her body. She stood there stunned, wondering what he could mean. She hadn’t looked at herself in a mirror in ages.

Seeing that she was suddenly swallowed whole inside herself once again, he backtracked and said desperately trying to illustrate his point, “Look here in this jar lid…you will see what I mean. Your eyes. You’re changing.”



“Alright class, gather to the front and sit as tightly as possible. We have a treat in store,” the assistant professor said through the mic, summoning the class from its scattered state, into one larger group. “We’re going to have a talent show.”

The lead professor quietly sat down to the right in the front of the auditorium as she pretended not to notice. She took her place as the rebel in the back of the auditorium, kneeling on a concrete slab as a school friend sat behind her. Her friend wrapped her arms around Mercedes’s body tightly as if to comfort her, for her intuition told her what was in store. She then took out a brush and began combing through the knots in Mercedes’s hair as if to prepare her. The adoration between them was apparent and everyone seemed to lift their eyes to the back of the room to stare.

Feeling misunderstood, the assistant professor asked the room to gather to the front once more, looking straight at Mercedes and her childhood friend. “Who would like to be up first?,” he asked the room but directing it at Mercedes, knowing full well that this was her worst fear come to life.

Another rebel along side the two in the back blurted out, “Take Mercedes, she’s always first! She always does it and she’s the pet!” Mercedes glared over at her and her friend on a sled about to take flight to the front. The classroom buzzed with excitement as her face turned 50 shades of Crimson.

“Come down here, Mercedes,” he motioned to the stage. Fear crippled her. Her friend sensed this, “Not without me, Mercedes…I got your back.”

Suddenly she was riding her friend, piggy-back-style, and they were leaping over each pew toward the front. Everyone grew silent as she climbed the stairs to the stage. The lead professor who had asked her to wish with a back handed stroke, didn’t look up until she reached the back curtains.

Her team gathered around her and began reciting her poetry. But the effect fell short as they read and the crowd grew weary. The voices were monotone and drab, not at all what she had intended her poetry to sound like. She glanced down at the professor as he looked away embarrassed for her. Something had to be done, he thought. She could now hear his thoughts in her mind. Things were certainly changing and it wasn’t just her eyes.

The professor disappeared out the side door in a flash, only to reenter on the other side of the auditorium in the back, motioning to her to come with him. He quickly ran out the door after he was sure she saw him. The music roared on and the movie announcers voice began to echo throughout the entire building now, showcasing her every move. She ran out of what was now the science wing, up the aisle and made a quick bee line to the right as she reached the top, disappearing through the side door. The poetry rang on loud and clear and a movie was soon underway for the rest of the class.


In the aircraft sat two pilots who guided their way out of the building. The professor stood behind them telling them where to go from there. No one really knew what they were doing or where they were going, other than the theatrical announcer.

There was a city in dire straights and something had to be done and soon. Mercedes stood atop the plane holding on with her all her strength. She was now wearing a green waxed suit and had polished, long flowing hair that whipped back as the air craft moved into the green smog of the stifled city. She saw in her reflection that her eyes had changed once again. She knew she was key, but to what extent was the question.

Still, even as she stood atop, she hadn’t had a clue as to why she was chosen for such a task. To save a city? To save the world? To save herself?

The god-like voice echoed throughout the atmosphere so all could hear once again, “She was a savant and a connoisseur, this was true, but she was so much more than just that. Was she … THE ONE?”

I woke up from my dream, feeling my body levitate off the aircraft. 


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