Fallen

Image Credit: Matt S., Glastonbury, CT The author's comments: This is the start of a fan fic I wrote in response to the Clone Wars season finale "The Wrong Jedi." The random zaberaak is from another fan fic I'm writing. The lone cruiser dropped out of Hyper-Space in an obscure system. Officially, the system was called “Jah’rin,” but everyone called it the Forbidden System. Composed of only five planets and a few moons, it wasn’t much for the fallen Padawan Ahsoka Tano. The Force has guided her here, so here she would search for meaning, for truth, and for answers. On one of the planets, Martelli, there lived Zaberaak and the people he lead. He had guarded this system for around thirty years, and was determined to guard it for thirty more. And anyone or anything that trespassed into his system was never seen again. “Sir,” said a System Guard. “We have a single vessel in our space, shall we destroy it?” “Not just yet,” he said. He thought for a moment, and then took a seat on the ground. Reaching out with the Force, he began feeling the ship. It’s not much, he thought to himself. Not much for fighting nor freighting, just a transport. Even still it isn’t much. Then he reached out to the only person on the ship. Ahsoka could feel her ship hum with the force of another mind. It analyzed her ship, debating whether or not to tear her ship apart. Then she felt it herself like a ghostly hand on her shoulder. “Who are you?” She thought aloud as shivers ran down her spine. “You will soon see,” a voice like an echo whispered as the hand seemed to slip off. “Sir?” asked the System Guard. The Zaberaak stood and stretched. It had been too long since he had felt the presence of another Jedi. “Bring her in,” he said. As the System Guard went toward the tractor beam console, he interjected. “Wait, send the docking vessel. We will bring her in with some dignity.” “Yes sir.” Ahsoka confused about what had happened. She gripped the handle of the blaster she bought. It wasn’t her favorite weapon to use, but it was all she could afford after she got the ship. She felt all the questions fly around her head. “Why didn’t the Council trust me? Why did Barriss betray me? Who is this person? Are they a Sith?” Just then, the ship’s holocomm sparked alive and a figure, covered in a strange armor, addressed her. “Young Jedi,” the voice crackled through the helmet. “I am sending a ship out to fetch you. It will take you to my planet where I will answer any of your questions, not just of this small portion of the universe, but about the ones that buzz in your head.” “How?” She asks incredulous. “How can you help me? How do you even know I need help?” “All in good time, young one,” responds the voice coolly. “In the meantime, relax and don’t touch your controls.” Before anymore words could be exchanged, the transmission flickered off, and a huge shadow took its decent on the ship. There was a sudden jolt of her ship being secured to it. “That’s one way to introduce yourself ,” sighed Ahsoka as she closed her eyes.



CHARLIE SWAILES: Assemblage

I’ve been collecting things since I was very small. Conkers, feathers, snow globes. Then onto stamps, butterflies, coins. It was only natural for me to progress to larger, more beautiful and precious things. Hard to find, harder to keep. People demand their freedom in a way that stamps never did. Charlie Swailes writes short and … Continue reading CHARLIE SWAILES: Assemblage →

GRETCHEN IVERS: Hey

When I saw him the other day, I felt the strangest urge to strike up a conversation. Most peculiar, seeing as we’ve hardly been close. But the moment passed and I saw it wasn’t him, remembered it couldn’t be so. A curiosity indeed that we’re always friendlier towards the dead. Gretchen wants to make being … Continue reading GRETCHEN IVERS: Hey →

MELODY LEMING-WILSON: Balloonman

The Balloonman presents the poodle, smiles and begins another. The child lifts it overhead; refracted color splashes his face. Autumn engulfs the horizon—the carnival sags. The Balloonman squints as summer burns itself out. The swan completed, he bows to one last girl, sighs, and turns toward evening and home. Melody Leming-Wilson lives and teaches in … Continue reading MELODY LEMING-WILSON: Balloonman →

STORY OF THE WEEK: December 8

The story of the week for December 2 to 6 is… Balloonman by Melody Leming-Wilson

CASEY LAINE: Photographs of the Condemned

Capturing those final shots On the eve of an execution I wonder what words Her lips do not speak I wonder, yes, but I do not ask Because I know In my shadowed heart That a look as blue as her eyes in that light Is an answer in itself. Casey Laine comes from a … Continue reading CASEY LAINE: Photographs of the Condemned →