Somehow I found the will to slowly open my eyes, one at a time. They weren’t heavy with sleep–it was more that they would have just preferred to stay shut. I was dismayed to find that just as I expected, I was naked in a strange bed, in a strange room, with a strange laptop on the night table behind me.

A noise behind me made me sit straight up in bed with the quilt pulled over my chest up to my neck.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” a short Native woman about my age screamed with shock at my abrupt change of position. She was wearing a long black skirt with deep red flowers on it, and a long, baggy short sleeved top in the same bloodstained colour as the flowers. Her shiny black hair was cut short, and fell just to her pretty cheekbones. Her eyes were huge and so dark I couldn’t see any hint of iris. More important though than what she wore and how she looked, was her intentions–she had been reaching towards the laptop, and withdrew her hand guiltily, grabbing at her neck with fright.

“I was not expecting you to do that!” she said in an unnaturally shrill tone. When I said nothing she continued, “You have not moved for two days. I will never get used to your kind no matter how long I live!”

I was jubilant. I hopped out of bed, not caring about my current state of undress, and she backed into the corner of the room fearfully. “You’re alive?!” I demanded.

She nodded; her eyes bugging out of her head when I encircled her in a hug.

“I was not going to touch your computer,” she squeaked from within my arms.

I was too happy to say anything, although inexplicably, I was extremely protective of the laptop. Quite possibly her reaching for it had stirred me from my sleep.

“I brought you something to eat,” she said. I knew she was uncomfortable although she patted me awkwardly on the back.

I let her go and glanced towards the dresser, where a steaming plate of what appeared to be rice, vegetables and chicken sat, along with a mug of unidentified contents.

“Thank you,” I said automatically, although I didn’t feel the least bit hungry. As an afterthought, I added, “my kind don’t eat very often, do we?”

She laughed nervously, backing towards the door. “No, usually only the day before training or a mission, you eat. The most important thing is that you drink what I’ve brought you.”

Oddly, this idea made sense to me. Drake had said I was in a state between life and death, I could feel both my breathing and heart rate were unnaturally slow. It only stood to reason that all my metabolic functions had suffered a radical reduction in speed. I also hadn’t gone to the bathroom in what felt like forever, but felt no discomfort from this. I had a feeling that the eating and drinking would help that along.

I reached out to her, backing away towards the bed in an effort to make her feel comfortable enough to stay. “Please don’t go,” I pleaded.

She paused by the door, her hand was almost on the knob. After what seemed like forever, she shrugged and stayed where she was, not taking her eyes off of me.

I looked around. I didn’t know if the dresser had anything in it and I was getting sick of being inappropriately attired.

“Do I have a robe or anything?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

She gestured towards the closet, “Do you want me to give you some privacy?”

“No, no, please, I really want you to stay for a minute, I’ll just throw something on,” I rushed to the closet and she turned away from me.

I opened the sliding door and narrowed my eyes. I could only see endless long sleeved cotton, v-neck navy blue shirts on the top rack, and roughly the same amount of cotton/spandex navy blue pants adorning the bottom rack. Apparently Guardians didn’t have “express individuality” in their job descriptions. I dressed quickly, and sat back down on the bed.

“This is a nice room,” I said, to make conversation. I looked around for the first time.

The bed was a double; the window faced east and had what looked like homemade curtains on it. The pattern throughout the room, on the quilt, curtains and dresser cover, was blue stars on burgundy background. The walls were painted a lighter shade of the burgundy, and on the wall above the dresser was a framed painting. I got up to look more closely at it, and the unknown woman joined me there.

I gasped when I got close enough to see that it was a breathtaking rendering of a Kermode, or Ghost bear. The look in its eyes was one of kinship; I almost felt like I could reach in and touch him. He was in front of a white clapboard house, one that looked like this one, from what I remembered from my time hanging out the window upon my first awakening here. The initials in the bottom right hand corner were BH.

“Do you like it?” The woman startled me, but she spoke quietly, almost shyly.

“Yes, very much,” I said, recovering my composure.

“I painted it!” She burst forth. She put her hand on her chest “I’m Betsy Highmist!”

I smiled, genuinely impressed. “You’re very talented,” I praised her. “I’m Skylar Shell,” I reached out my hand for an introductory handshake.

She shook my hand, giggling. I raised my eyebrows, questioning her mirth.

“It’s just that I know who you are of course,” She explained.

“How is that?” I inquired. I peered at the tray, picking up the yellow mug questioningly. There appeared to be an extremely dark black but inexplicably sparkly, dusty substance in it. I didn’t feel thirsty, but even still, this didn’t appear as if it would be very palatable.

When Betsy answered, there was a definite note of pride in her voice. “My family has been entrusted with the caretaking of the Guardians for centuries,” I looked up at her with surprise. “My younger sister, Violet and I, take care of your kind here now. I know who you are, because I was expecting you. You’re the first of your guild to arrive,” She blinked at me, with a slight look of worry growing in her dark eyes.

“If you take care of us,” I couldn’t even wrap my head around the idea that more people would go through what I had, “Then who exactly is Drake?” I shook the mug around slightly, trying to judge what exactly it was.

“My people refer to him as Raven, he’s your instructor.” I stared at her blankly. Her voice became a little unsure. “You know, he teaches you how to use your powers, about your missions, about the creatures,” She seemed surprised at the uncomprehending look on my face. I had only had a brief, but highly disturbing incident with my “power”, and the rest I hadn’t heard of yet. I didn’t like the sound of the “creatures”.

“I probably shouldn’t say anything else,” she said hurriedly.

“Before you stop answering questions, can you just tell me one thing?” I interrupted her exit. “What exactly is this?” I held up the mug.

“It’s diamond dust,” she said. “That’s what your kind drink.”

“Why is it black?”I put it down quickly, clanging the mug against the dresser top.

She didn’t like me doing that, and picked it up again, handing it to me firmly.

“It’s made from black diamonds–you have to drink it,” she insisted. “It gives you strength for your training.”

She frowned when I made no move to drink but held it away from me as if it held a mouse instead of a dusty beverage. She put her hands on her hips huffily.

“It is my job to make sure you drink this, even more important than making sure you eat,” her voice brooked no argument.

“Can I have a straw?” I joked, bringing the mug to my lips.

She pressed her lips into a narrow line.

Surprisingly, as my nose got closer to the mug, I could actually smell the aroma of the diamond dust. It smelled like the most appealing thing I could imagine, and it was easy to tip it up and let the substance fill my mouth. There was no taste but what made my eyes widen when I chugged the whole contents of the mug, was the immediate feeling of well being and strength that coursed through my veins.

Betsy smiled but her eyes seemed to be unfocused in my direction, and she reached out her right hand to touch my arm. She was off by about three inches, and she tentatively moved her hand over towards me. Testing a theory, I silently leaned back out of her reach. She furrowed her brows and said “could you please touch the middle of your forehead, Skylar?”

It was obvious that drinking the diamond dust had rendered me invisible to her, when she could see me again after I followed her request she smiled with relief. She told me that touching my own forehead (right in the middle, where the chakra is located) would immediately render me visible to all mortals; while having physical contact with a mortal reversed the invisibility only as it pertained to that individual. I was overwhelmed with possibilities—a criminal could make a killing as a Guardian, robbing banks and museums. Then again, a criminal was more likely to become a Creature than a Guardian. I looked again at Betsy, needing a break from my disturbing thoughts.

She was actually very pretty, when she wasn’t being sneaky, feeling guilty, or pulling rank on me. I smiled back, but we both jumped when a floorboard creaked outside the room. She moved with lightning speed, removing the plate of food and placing it in my hands, grabbing the tray and mug and speeding out of the room before I could say anything else. I got the impression that Drake would not have appreciated Betsy telling me anything about this strange world without his permission.

I took the plate of food back to the bed and set it on the end table. I wasn’t sure I could eat it; it felt like my stomach was only about the size of a pea. When was the last time I had eaten anything? It couldn’t have been the veggie dog at the campfire? Abruptly my heart plummeted. The campfire was the last time I had seen Jordan.

I ran my fingers over the embossed lettering on the cover of the laptop, TSGG. Maybe the files on here could somehow answer the questions at the forefront of my overwhelmed mind. My father’s seemingly imaginary stories about Guardian Angels actually had roots in reality. How had he known about Guardians?  I also agonized over how I could be expected to continue existing in any capacity–alive, dead or in between, without Jordan.

As I opened the laptop, my eyes acclimated with ease to the bright red writing of the document within the folder. I couldn’t get over how the beautiful cursive swam across the screen; it reminded me of salmon swimming together upstream-it too seemed to have a rhythm older than time. There on the first page was what I expected, the sentence I had read in the library, about me.

“Skylar Shell has arrived at Princess Royal Island; her violent transformation from mortal to Guardian complete.”

I felt a shudder rack me. Ugh. Guardians apparently were not immune from getting the old fashioned heebie jeebies. I forced myself to continue reading.

“Going back to the life before the transformation; both parents are deceased. Her mother died of Leukemia, her father perished in a helicopter crash. Of interest, her father had an acute knowledge of Guardians, presumably gleaned from his long term and highly unorthodox association with the Highmist family. This has gone unpunished only because Skylar was the sole Mortal with whom he shared this information–it was shared under the guise of bedtime stories.

Skylar went through much emotional turmoil and practical upheaval when she moved to St. Peter from Toronto, to live with her sister Emily. Beside Emily lives Jordan and his brother, along with their foster parents. Jordan and Skylar share a connection that is deeper than even they understand. Skylar shared the stories her father told her, with Jordan, he believes them to be fictional.

When Jordan and Skylar started to walk down the path Fate has laid for them, the past of his father held Jordan back from his steps. The path has now been interrupted by the transformation of Skylar from mortal to Guardian.

To the scene and circumstances of her transformation; Skylar Shell drowned in a popular campsite just outside St. Peter. She would not have drowned if she hadn’t been shoved into the water, where her skull was fractured against a formidable rock. Her muscles went into shock. Since she was facedown her lungs quickly filled with water. She was shoved into the water by Jordan’s brother, who left the scene, unaware for the present of the effect of his actions.

Jordan reached Skylar after the transformation had already begun. He was 93 seconds too late to revive her, although he did attempt c.p.r. for 37 consecutive minutes until emergency services arrived at the remote campsite.

Skylar is endowed with the ability to manipulate water to her will; as well, water can sense what she requires and respond accordingly. She is the first of her guild to arrive at Princess Royal Island, the one with the most powerful gift, and the most suffocating responsibility. This book belongs to none other than Skylar Shell for the rest of her days as a Guardian.

I permitted myself a minute to absorb this truncated version of my life, and death. These words were so impersonal, living and dying had been so much more traumatic then really any words could sum up. I felt the blasted tears burning the backs of my eyeballs and I willed them to retreat. It took all my strength not to dissolve at the mental image of Jordan trying to save me for so long. He was so close to getting there before—it—started; the transformation. I knew instinctively that I couldn’t think about what ifs now and still retain any semblance of sanity. I opted for remaining sane, at least for the moment. I took a breath that shuddered in anticipation and scrolled to the next page; I was unable to resist continuing.

She was transported from the Lake of Change to the Guardians’ residence on Princess Royal Island. She awoke in the Instructor’s office and was drawn to the computer.  She was frightened by the introductory line.

My eyes were as wide as pancakes. I couldn’t control my breathing, and even my insanely slowly beating heart was trumping out a strange rhythm. This was a dynamic story; it seemed to somehow be a living thing. I was positive that this computer was being constantly updated as things happened. I was sure of it. I scrolled ahead and saw that there were only a few first chapters that had anything on them; the last numbered page was 30.

I saw a few unfamiliar names, but my brain was spinning enough for the moment that I avoided absorbing anything beyond the last page number. I decided to brush my hair while I waited, using the one that Drake had handed me in the library. I brushed slowly; when I was done, I carefully placed the brush back on the end table. I scrolled down the pages slowly. I knew what I would see, but I still couldn’t help gasping with a heady mix of excitement and dread when I saw the new final page number. 33.

All I could do was return to the beginning pages, and finish my own story.

My eyes seemed like rebellious teenagers; I had to concentrate fiercely in order to refocus them, and continue the shocking diatribe.

Skylar was influenced to trust the Instructor, and although her mind protectively tried to shield her from what it already knew, that she was no longer a Mortal, the Instructor rightly forced her to see the truth. When faced with the force of her new power, Skylar went into a state of sleep meant to heal the mind from the shock of transformation.

Skylar was awoken from this trance by the stirrings of the Caretaker. Upon meeting the Caretaker, questions were fired and answered. The basic reason for the existence of the Guardians will be explained by the Instructor at the first training session, and the Caretaker’s cryptic answers will be made clear.  Skylar stands ready to welcome the remaining members of her guild.

I realized that the file was right. I was ready to absorb the lives and deaths of the remaining guild members; I felt a kinship with them already, they were now my family. I scrolled to the first page of the next chapter.

Well we all love Hockey Night In Canada. I myself look forward to the 1st period intermission just to hear what Grapes have to say. Well Don Cherry is gettin pretty old (75 years old) , his voice gets hoarse when he gets excited and I can imagine his blood pressure / stress goes through the roof.

He’s controversial , loud, insulting and you think he’d have to retire soon. I personally don’t want to see him retire but then I got to thinking who would be able to get remotely close to his presence during the 1st intermissions each saturday night.

My call would be Dr. Denis Leary. Sure he’s american but he’s a sports guy , has his own backyard hockey rink with piping to keep the ice frozen.  Denis Leary has similar qualities to Cherry and he could never come close to the presence but I think he’d be best suited.

So today I went to walmart to grab some things, i grabbed the handy basket to put my stuffs in then about 1/4 thru the store i realized im gonna need a cart.

I looked around and saw one sittin in the make up section, i was like SWEET i dont have to walk back to the front of the store and grab a cart. I threw my basket in there then i saw this old lady giving me the looks from hell i was like wtf did i do , i kept on truckin . Well I went to grab some pop (surprise , surprise) and then i saw why the old lady was giving me the look of death. There in the front of the cart (where the baby sits) was a woman’s deoderant and some denturecream toothpaste . I was like holy hell i just stole a cart from Granny…. I felt horrendous cause she would have to walk back to the front of the store and grab a new cart then 1/2 way across the store to get her items she had already…. man i felt like an ass…..

I used to work at Tele – Tech call center. It was for a cell phone company in the states. I used to get calls for all sorts of things from troubleshooting to billing to new purchases. Once in a while i’d get a person that was extremely happy and point out that i was Canadian.  I was like holey fuck ! how you know that… Then they gladly and gleefully point out i said “Eh.”

So the rest of a call was usually a pick me up cause they end up being super nice and friendly which is quite a change from the usual anger I’d get.

Another call i had was some early 20’s guy that wanted to upgrade his cell plan but we ended up talking for like 1hr or so about his trip to Vegas, my supervisior would come by and i’d say im troubleshooting his phone and she’s nod and moved along. It was a call that should’ve took like 2min tops but it made my shift go by pretty good.

Another part of our job was to try to upsell people some new cell models , one of these phones were shaped like a brick and was durable and shock resistant ideal for a construction site and stuff like that. Well i never actually seen one aside from pictures so I’d pitch it to customers and they’d be meh about it, well this one customer had one and one of my lines was it was shock resistant and can take a beating then i heard a loud *WACK* from the other end… I was like holy cow what was that, the customer then said ” It shattered into pieces what are you going to do for me now ? “

I was at such a loss for words and pretty well shocked to shit , then the laughter erupted on his end and he wasnt alone , he had about 3-4 people around him and i was on speaker…  needless to say i wasnt impressed but i have to admit i’d probably do the same to someone if the opportunity came.

I hated working for the call center but it had its great epic moments….

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don’t take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don’t know, but you know deserves it.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I’d forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying ‘Hello.’

I politely said, ‘This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?’

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear ‘Get the right f***ing number!’ and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so rude.

When I tracked down Robyn’s correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the ‘wrong’ number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled ‘You’re an asshole!’ and hung up.

I wrote his number down with the word ‘asshole’ next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I’d call him up and yell, ‘You’re an asshole!’ It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic asshole calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, ‘Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I’m calling to see if you’re familiar with our Caller ID Program?’ He yelled ‘NO!’ and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, ‘That’s because you’re an asshole!’ and hung up.

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I’d been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a ‘For Sale ‘ sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole, (I had is number on speed dial) I thought that I’d better call the BMW asshole, too. I said, ‘Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?’ He said, ‘Yes, it is.’ I then asked, ‘Can you tell me where I can see it?’

He said, ‘Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax. It’s a yellow ranch style house and the car’s parked right out in front.’ I asked, ‘What’s your name?’ He said, ‘My name is Don Hansen,’ I asked, ‘When’s a good time to catch you, Don?’ He said, ‘I’m home every evening after five.’ I said, ‘Listen, Don, can I tell you something?’ He said, ‘Yes?’ I said, ‘Don, you’re an asshole!’ Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.

Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. Then I came up with an idea… I called asshole #1. He said, ‘Hello.’ I said, ‘You’re an asshole!’ (But I didn’t hang up.)

He asked, He screamed, ‘Stop calling me,’ I said, ‘Make me,’ He asked, ‘Who are you?’ I said, ‘My name is Don Hansen.’ He said, ‘Yeah? Where do you live?’ I said, ‘Asshole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax , a yellow ranch style home and I have a black Beamer parked in front.’ He said, ‘I’m coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers.’ I said, ‘Yeah, like I’m really scared, asshole,’ and hung up.

Then I called Asshole #2. He said, ‘Hello?’ I said, ‘Hello, asshole, He yelled, ‘If I ever find out who you are…’ I said, ‘You’ll what?’ He exclaimed, ‘I’ll kick your ass,’ I answered, ‘Well, asshole, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now.’

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax, and that I was on my way over there to kill my Non-Hetero lover. Then I called Channel 7 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Blvd in Fairfax.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax. I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.

NOW I feel much better.

This is anger management

Stays with the success with the same type of music , sticks to what he know whats good. I’ve rocked out to bon jovi and i’m a fan, you’d have to get a few beers in me before im like this….