Counterclock Synopsis

Counterclock is part one of a three-part YA/fantasy series that centers around 19-year-old Taya, who lives in a biologically and technologically advanced society. Set hundreds of years in the future, the earth is split into three zones, which is a result of a new earth reborn from man-induced destruction. In Taya’s society Ciellus, also known as the leaders of their own zone, humans have now evolved to be able to manipulate time, space, and consciousness.

Taya’s seemingly predictable life takes a turn when she meets a mysterious old woman that challenges her view of the society, and her role within it. With the help of her brother Leon, and her friends Isa, Octavia, and Roman, she uncovers the truth of how Ciellus has maintained their status through the brutal use of genocide of the second and third zones. The mysterious woman, Celestine, turns out to be a true Counterclock from a different time period (a person that is able to manipulate themselves through time rather than manipulate time through objects and people), and challenges Taya to be part of her revenge plan to destroy Ciellus for their crimes against humanity.

Lessons From Flowers

The flower lives many lives-
She begins small
And she doesn’t think twice about what her neighbor
may say about her
She grows with the help of the sun and the rain,
Never once questioning whether or not she deserves their help-
She accepts it with ease in her spirit and grace in her stance
Dependent she is for a while, unapologetic
Until one day she has strength to bloom on her own
And bloom, she does
One day her short life sees its last day
But as she wilts, she still offers nature a gift
And she leaves her fruits as she departs
But again, she returns, seeking the sun and the rain
Her beauty blooming and undeniably gracing nature with her existence.

-Lessons from flowers

Chosen

When I make a decision to love you,

I choose to love ALL of you

The laughter, the bliss, the missteps

And I will not opt to back down when things get difficult

I hope you’ll be able to help me rise when I fall

In the same way I will extend my hand towards you when you need it most

I will not choose to see you through the lens of your worst day

And I hope that you will be here through mine

I hope we don’t lose sight of our rhythm

Or refuse to listen when our faults become worn like masks

In those moments, I hope we can reach that place beyond words and steer away from silence

I do not hope for the silence

I choose to believe in the love that I chose

The love that encapsulates ALL of you

The laughter, the bliss, and the missteps

 

- Chosen

Unlock

It was peace, my long-lost companion

That unlocked the deepest parts of me

that had been hidden away years ago

What freedom to be in the space that I had searched for endlessly

And now here I am

My eyes bright and mind open

Continuing to unlock parts of me that I had not met before

What bliss to be in the waiting of promise

as I dare myself to fall in love with the person in the mirror

What joy to be still

With nothing but the sound of my beating heart

Unlocking my readiness to be embraced again

 

- Unlock

The Ask

What then, can I give?

To a world hurting on paranoia and fear

What chance does a small feeling of hope have against these walls

I ask:

Can I give love? Or perhaps time?

What can I give

To a world scarred

What can I say to despair as it continues to ravage hearts

What then, can I do

In a world so focused on the wrongdoings of others that it forgets to look for light

What then, can I give?

I answer:

That which I can give, is my mind

My choice to denounce hatred

That which I can give, is my heart

For in it lives a well that can heal and rebirth the new

That which I can give, is my hope

For in it is the unfulfilled promise that the scarred world can acknowledge its pain and wrongdoings, and choose to rebuild with compassion in its DNA

So what I can give, is the chance to change

And what I can give, is me

 

- The Ask

Oddity

I used to think I was an emotional oddity

Desperate for attention but never willing to take up the space

Ready to listen but never willing to speak

A walking contradiction forever looking to fill a need

 

- Oddity

 

People

You have been fuel when I’ve been empty

A North Star when I’ve wandered lost

A treasure when I was convinced I had nothing

A breath of fresh air when I had none in my lungs

You’ve been a weight on my back in the days that I did not value you

Blindly I have pushed you while secretly wishing you’d stay

I even pleaded for you

And in an answered prayer you came

I can’t live without you

You’re the light on the path that I’m on

Never again will I let you go

And never again will I hide

 

- People

Are You Still With Me?

Are you still with me?

Even through my toughest days and difficult ways

Will you choose to sit it out with me?

It comes out of nowhere…

Sometimes the heaviness just weighs more without anything being added

And it feels lighter even when nothing has been subtracted

It just is and it claims my space, my mind

And everything in between when I allow it to win

My only breath of fresh air is knowing if you are still with me

It’s all I’ll ever need

But don’t get me wrong…this isn’t a battle I’m wanting to pass along

No

I need to know if you’re with me

Because truly I have no chance at it alone

I can live with letting it win here and there

But my God, I can’t imagine a daily defeat

Because when we’re alone we begin to disappear

But accompanied we maximize the best of who we are

So I ask again

Are you still with me?

- Are you still with me?

Wednesday

The rain is pouring down on the last hour of what was a very long, and emotional day. Days like these don’t come around as often as they used to, which I am grateful for. But when they do…wow do they come full force.

 

So what am I even talking about here? I’m talking about the days that begin with the sun and are later overrun by storms. Days that begin like any other day, but quickly stand out for all the wrong reasons. I woke up today feeling unrested and knowing that my choices would determine whether the storm would be unleashed or not. But I need to confess: I didn’t make a choice. I let myself float through the morning, feeling the ripples of emotion crashing near the surface. But still, I ignored the warning. I grabbed my coffee, and mentally prepared myself for the day ahead, knowing that my inaction was a choice in the making. The rippling grew stronger and the waves were getting bigger. I prepared my breakfast in an attempt to shut out the noise. Out of nowhere a voice broke through my thoughts and there it was: the explosion.

 

It was as though a bomb went off inside me, unleashing a hurricane of regret, pain, and sorrow. I was angry and I felt the familiarity of brokenness. I did what I did best; I hid. I hid not to suppress my humanity but because I did not understand who I was in that moment. Memories of previous storms flashed before me as I sank deeper and deeper into an abyss that I could not fight back.

 

Small. Insignificant. Irrelevant. Forgotten. These words taunted me and fed the unrelenting chaos that had overtaken my mind. The storm did not recognize empathy or love as it stood in front of it; instead, it continued to feed its hunger with pain. The more pain it absorbed, the more satisfied it seemed and I couldn’t seem to stop it.

 

And suddenly out of the darkness, out of the clouds, and out of the storm, I saw a light. It was soft, inviting, encouraging, and loving. It reached for me and called me, waiting for me to call back. But I hesitated. I hesitated because I was afraid the words the storm spoke were true. And if they were true, how could I possibly be deserving of this light?

 

And then a new realization came: the light was part of me, just as the storm was. Both intense, both real, and both evidence of my humanity.

 

 

- “Wednesday”

An excerpt from 'The Night Ballad'

Flowers for Lady Death, an excerpt from The Night Ballad (1813 words)

by Lizzy Madrigal

  

The black earth groaned in pain as beams of liquid fire burst into the air. Xo’s face ached from the heat; her body heavy as she willed herself forward. Her feet were bloodied from her travels, with patches of shiny pink skin peering through the layers of caked dirt. She gritted her teeth as the softness of the dirt became fragments of sharp volcanic rock. 

“Cipactli, have mercy on me,” she prayed, her eyes stinging viciously with tears. She fell to her knees, with both hands clutching at the jagged black dirt. “Have I not honored you with the pain of my body?” She paused, lowering her head towards the ground. “I am forever grateful for your sacrifice so that creation may exist on your back…but please spare me, I beg you.”

Silence. 

Xo looked around, almost expecting the sea monstress to have responded to her. But she was far from the sea. Her breath rattled with every inhale, desperate for release. She was alone, with nothing but black rocks, mountains, and ash-filled air watching her. But almost as if in response, the liquid fire bursts into the air again, matching the blood-red sky. As the molten rock made its way down, Xo noticed a tall dark figure standing on the other side of it, twice the height of an ordinary man.

She rubbed her eyes, assuming it was a trick of the earth. The Outlands of the South was a dangerous place, one where many foolish explorers perished from madness if the heat did not destroy them first. Xo felt fear begin to fill her chest, mustering the strength to look again.

“I am here, child.”

Xo remained on the ground; her posture adjusted to a bow. She knew who the voice belonged to; in fact; as soon as she saw the tall figure of the dog-headed man, she recognized him to be Xolotl, the god of fire and lightning. To her people, he was most commonly referred to as The Guide.

“I come peacefully,” Xo whispered, slowly lifting her eyes to him.

He stood near the opening of a cave but made his way towards her as she spoke. His body began to transform, as the bodies of the deities do when they interact with humans. His height shrunk, and his head became human. His skin remained a dark gray, and his long black hair fell halfway down his back. His face was painted in an array of colors, his eye sockets empty.

“Stand, Xochitl,” his voice hissed.

Xo stood, clutching the small knapsack at her side. Her heart beat rapidly as she addressed him.

“You know me, merciful Guide?”

“I know all those who have been touched by Death,” he responded. “What brings you to the Outlands, so far from home?”

Xo inhaled deeply. “With all due respect, I was chosen by the moon goddess Metzli to be Graced with the power of ice. I know not of any other god that has found favor in me.”

The Guide’s mouth stretched into a smile. “Xochitl, humanity has much still to learn about being Graced.” His face dipped lower, towards the knapsack at her side. “Now tell me, why have you journeyed here?”

“I need to beg Lady Death for forgiveness,” Xo whispered, falling to her knees again, the sharp black stones scraping new cuts onto her skin. “I need to confess and repent for taking a life that was never mine to take.”

“Lady Death is just,” The Guide responded. “She loves her children, both living and dead.” He paused. “Stand up, child.”

Xo took the hand of The Guide and stood. The touch of his skin was rough, and surprisingly hot. He turned her hand to see the white moon symbols painted on her palm. The ash grew thicker in the air around them, and streaks of lightning shone bright in the sky.

“Daughter of the moon,” he whispered. “I choose to accept your request. Are you ready to continue your journey?”

He turned and walked into the darkness of the cave, and Xo silently followed, clutching her offering of marigolds close at her side.

*          *          *

Xo followed behind The Guide for some time, before breaking her silence.

“Merciful Guide, am I expected to cross the nine challenges to see Lady Death?”

“Child, one must be dead to fully begin their journey to the underworld of Mictlan,” he answered. “Surely you must know this?”

Xo looked at the wideness of the dark cave around her, picking up on a soft sound of dripping water. Beads of sweat rolled down her face and neck. She wiped them away before answering.

“I do know,” she said, panting gently. “But I also know that the Graced are able to enter as long as they continue to be favored.”

“Which is why I invited you in, child,” The Guide answered. “We will only go as far as Lady Death wishes us to.”

The dripping of the water grew stronger, but it was hard to tell where it was coming from in the searing darkness.

“May I use my Grace to help with the heat?” Xo asked, wiping sweat from her face. “And perhaps to help see?”

“If the goddess of the moon wills it,” he said. “I am no one to impose on the command of her magics.”

They both stopped walking briefly, and Xo turned her palms upward. “Metzli, goddess of the moon,” she began. “Use me as your vessel.”

There were a few seconds of silence, and suddenly, the palms of Xo’s hands began to glow.

“Thank you,” she prayed, pressing her hands together. “For finding favor in me another day.”

Xo extended her hands, and beams of blue and green light flashed from her palms. The light danced on the rocky walls before sprinting down the path ahead of them. For a brief moment, Xo and The Guide were once again engulfed in darkness, the sound of the dripping water now silenced.

A light breeze blew through the wide-open space of the cave, and Xo could see her breath before it quickly disappeared again.  

“You are favored, indeed,” The Guide said, as he turned his head towards the growing sound of running water before turning back to her. Xo gasped as a tidal wave emerged from the dark, rapidly making its way towards them.

“The river usually waits patiently for those to cross it; never have I seen it come to a person… willingly,” he added.

Unnerved by his calmness, in one swift hand motion Xo transformed the wave into a sparking tunnel of ice that illuminated the pathway they were on. The Guide remained in place, his back never turning towards her.

“How were you so calm?” she gasped.

“I cannot die here,” he responded simply.

“I don’t think I can say the same for myself,” Xo replied. “How am I able to use my Grace down here?”

“I wouldn’t have allowed you to die here, child,” a female voice said.

The Guide stepped to the side, and Xo watched as Lady Death made her way towards them. Her tall figure shrunk as she walked forward, her usual open, dislocated jaw healed in place. In her deity form, Lady Death was known to swallow the light of the stars, no doubt in preference for the darkness in which she resided.

“Xochitl of Aztlan,” she said slowly. “At long last.”

Xo kneeled before Lady Death, presenting the marigold flowers at what should have been her feet. Her black robes danced all around her, her body never quite touching the floor.

 “Lady Death, I have traveled far,” Xo began, her voice trembling, and her eyes hot with tears. “I have traveled far to beg for your forgiveness and to ask for mercy for my people.”

 The goddess of the underworld took the flowers from Xo, her hand covered in white powder as was the rest of her skin. She placed her other hand under Xo’s chin, tilting her head upward to look at her. Xo trembled slightly at her touch, bracing herself for her response.

 “Are you here to beg for the soul of the servant you killed?”

 Inhaling sharply, Xo replied, “He wasn’t just a servant. He was-”

“A servant of the Nine Lords of Night, yes,” she replied, pulling her hand away. She turned to look at The Guide. “A chaotic lot they’ve turned out to be, don’t you think?”

The Guide nodded sharply. “What’s one to expect from a bunch of self-righteous half-breeds, my Lady?”

“They mean to wage war against our people for what I did,” Xo cried breathlessly. “I never intended to harm him! I was given an order-”

“An order that you willingly carried out,” Lady Death interrupted again. “Because, of course, that’s what you do.”

“I am a vessel and warrior, Lady Death, not an executioner,” Xo replied firmly. “The goddess of the moon did not choose me for the latter.”

“Has it occurred to you that perhaps you have found favor with others besides her?”

“M-my Lady?” Xo stuttered, surprised at her suggestion.

 Lady Death crouched, meeting Xo at eye level. The sparking ice of the tunnel fluttered gently onto her long, dark hair and robes. “Xochitl of Aztlan, Death has found favor in you. Surely walking into this cave was your first sign? The river of the first level usually consumes souls, not obeys them. Surely that sign was clearer?”  

Xo’s heart beat rapidly, threatening to burst out of her chest. The memory of the fallen servant replayed in her mind; every cruel sound of his body breaking etched into her mind. She recalled how it had felt to lose control of herself, her power, and even her own thoughts. The thought scared her, and never once had she thought her actions were the result of personal choice as Lady Death had said.

“I…” was all Xo could muster.

“Death has been a part of you, from the moment you took your first breath, and your mother took her last,” Lady Death’s eyes glittered as she spoke, her voice sounding almost like a song. “And we have watched you ever since.”

Xo’s tears had long stopped. She stood, looking at her and The Guide.

“What does this mean? What do the Lords want?”

“A war comes again,” Lady Death said. “Light and dark have been enemies since creation, and no doubt the Nine Lords of Night are looking to overthrow Aztlan and all the Graced.”

“But the Graced are representatives of light, are they not? Surely we can stop this?”

“The Graced are mediators between humans and deities, and as the gods fall within both light and dark, then so do the Graced,” Lady Death replied. “Xochitl, the death of the servant was the first spark that will undoubtedly fuel this inevitable war. You are here because it’s time for you to choose your side.”