#4wl

    Zach flicked the pan in his hand, the pork strips sizzling on it flipping over. He inspected them for a second and, determining them done, slid them off the pan and onto the plate next to the stove. They lined up nicely with the flattened bread and cut up boiled eggs.

    He turned off the flames and set the pan on another burner to let it cool off. Kris wasn’t home but he didn’t want another incident. There were still scorch marks on the ceiling and the burns left scars on her arms. Not exactly ones she likes to brag about unlike her others.

    Picking up the plate and the bottle of Tikena, he started up the rounded stairs of their home, leaning his elbow on the woven branch banister to keep himself steady. The steps creaked underneath his feet and he made a mental note to fix them later. Creaky stairs weren’t good for when any of them wanted to ‘sneak out’. Not like any of them did these days.

    At the top of the stairs, Zach walked to the first door of the short hallway. It was the only door without a mark on it, no etches or chipped paint from tape and nails. There was a sign next to the frame though; a light oak plank with Evans carved into it. He paused for a moment to stare. The letters were obviously chiseled with care, a single thick layer of black paint in the indentions to make them everlasting.

    He sighed and knocked lightly on the door with his knuckle, careful not to hit it with the bottle. “Cole? You awake?”

    No answer. Zach set the bottle on the floor so he could open the door just a crack, picked it up and nudged the door open some more. Inside, the room was near completely dark. Not a single one of the occupant’s many lamps were on and his curtains were drawn in halfway. The bookshelf and desk were neat and untouched, as well as the clean floor void of any papers, books, or tools.

    Zach felt a pang in his stomach and walked over to the desk to set his armful down. “I brought you some food. It’s your favorite, well it’s all of our favorite, but I made you it.”

    Again, no answer from the bed. A human sized lump of blankets was bunched together at the end of the mattress, thrown haphazardly away from Cole, who sat at the head. One leg was outstretched, the other drawn up so he could set his elbow on his knee. His hand dangled while the other was resting beside him, his communicator watch in a loose grip.

    What worried Zach most was his face. He stared at the end of the bed in front of him, eyes full of nothing and void. If it weren’t for him actually blinking, Zach and Kris would’ve guessed he was dead or a living coma.

    The older man shook his head. Kris said Cole was close, but not yet to a state of going into a living coma. Until he got to that point, they just had to help him best they could.

    “Kris went to town to pick up a shipment. It’ll definitely have those knives she’s been waiting for finally. Might also have that textbook from Utimia you requested ages ago.” He approached the bed slowly and sat on the edge next to his legs. “And Ms. Michaela has been asking about us, wondering when you’re going to come in again. We didn’t explain everything of course but we did tell her it’d be a while.”

    Cole responded as usual, a stare blank as a crossed out puzzle. Zach reached out and placed his hand on his knee. “We don’t blame you for any of this. None of us could’ve predicted what was going to happen, especially to Colour and Zoel.” He leaned forward, touching his forehand to the back of his hand before sitting back up and standing.

Entry 1. 

Altar of The Star