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Victoria L. White

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“THE MIST They fell asleep and dreamed a fog. They had words but not meaning. And with the mist, there came a fear. The mist grew thicker. A whispered voice from the Great Beyond. Love will heal the people. It washed away the scent of shame. No one said, “It should not be so.” There was silence. What is it? A strange feeling. Foreign at first but now familiar. We do not have to hide. The crystal light extends out. Pulsing with aliveness. The memory of pain passes. What were we so afraid of?”

“And the light," Aiden said, stretching out his hand. "Look. It's perfect. Right now, especially, when the sun's low like this." I'd never really looked at light before. But now, as I watched a few insects swoop lazily through the air, I realized that Aiden was exactly right. There was a clear, amber sort of hue to it, like looking at honey through the bottom of a glass. "I can tell you're an artist," I said. Aiden looked at me. "How so?" "The light and everything. You noticing it like that. Regular people don't notice the way light looks." Aiden stared back out at the field. "You gotta pay attention," he said softly. "To all of it. Otherwise, you might miss something. Anything can change your life. You never know. You just have to be patient. And watch.”