I hate to admit it,

It’d be easier if I didn’t,

I’ve always worried that I acted too immature,

that you saw me as a child.

I don’t want you to think of me like that

I don’t want to be your annoying little sibling

But the truth is I’ve missed you,

I’ve missed you like a child

Even now, I still do sometimes

I never want to let you out of my sight,

I never want to leave you like I left you all those years ago

I don’t want to annoy you,

I just want to talk with you

Be with you

I never thought I’d see the day

When I’d see your face again

If I told the younger me

That she’d get to see you again

I don’t think she’d believe me

Or maybe she would, and she would cry

I’d probably cry too.

4 years....

I never realized how long that felt

how the mind can make things slip away into seconds while letting others linger.

Do you still remember me?

Am I still there, locked up in a corner of your mind?

Do you remember my face and how it would light up every time I saw you?

Do you remember the fuss I made about your new school when they made you shave all of your blue hair off?

Do you still remember me?

Is any of it still there?

Have you moved on already?

I know four years is a lot but still...

for whatever reason I'm still feeling it

I haven't forgotten a single thing.

You have no idea of the countless times I've imagined seeing your again and of all the witty jokes I'd come up with

A part of me started to lose hope,

I thought I would never see you again,

but now you're so close I can feel you burn on the tips of my fingers, sparking a fire in my soul that I thought had died.

I don't want to scare you

after all it's been four years,

but I've missed you and still want my goodbye.

Little yellow house

across the street

spent hours,

moments of my day at random

counting the cars,

one, two

1, 2

I, II

hoping I see 3,

I know it won't happen,

I know that it's a childish wish,

There's a child in me,

she misses you,

wishing to see you

one more time.

She's always asking me:

"Where did he go?"

I sigh and look out at that yellow house,

It's not yours, but I still hope to see you there.

For now I'll just sit here,

twiddling my thumbs,

and telling that expecting and naïve little girl,

"Maybe next year,"

Maybe next year

Perhaps it was her,

The red-haired imaginative heroine of her own story.

The girl who was stronger than a horse and braver than a bear.

The girl who was Princess Cordelia, friend of the snow queen.

The girl who was unafraid to be her and take the lead.

The girl who didn’t need a man so set out instead in search of a life mate.

The girl who brightened the lives of so many around her.

Or perhaps it was him,

The person who was a little broken inside but still found love.

The man who seemed frail on the surface but was actually a tirade of self-expression and life.

The person who, pink boa and all, was fearless in the end. Who overcame his trauma and held on and stood by his siblings.

Or maybe it’s her who lives in my head,

The being that comes to me in my dreams and manifested herself in all of my ideas.

The being that looks at a simple picture with no meaning to it and finds the story of three princes or two lovers with a doomed reality or of a girl who loved her brother and the country and the woods that surrounded her grandmother’s cottage home.

The being who comforts me and brings to me the comfort characters I look up to that give me advice and let me talk out my problems when I am too shy to speak about it to others.

Whoever it is that is my muse,

That breathes my expressions to life,

Whether it be one or all of them,

Whether they are a fictional or real person,

Whether they be family or a friend or a total stranger I met the other day,

They are who inspire me,

Who give me emotion and empathy,

Who set me free.

Please, we the people just want to be accepted.

Please, don’t call us sweetheart when we voice our beliefs like we don’t have a clue what we are talking about; please, acknowledge us.

Please, give us our place in the community back.

Please, don’t kill us; stop it with your violence.

All we’ve ever wanted was to be seen as equal.

All we’ve ever wanted was peace.

Please, set aside our differences. Please, call us human, that’s all we want.

CAST OF CHARACTERS:

LAURENT— An uptight woman, in starched business attire,

DAVE— A man with peachy skin and short brown hair wearing a white undershirt, stylish brown jacket, darker brown pants; and a hip pink, infinity silk scarf around his neck,

CONSPIRER #1— An old man with white wispy hair and warm winter clothes in a southerner style,

CONSPIRER #2— A fifteen-year-old boy who thinks he’s a doctor.

CONSPIRER #3— A woman looking to be in her seventies with thin, dry, brown hair and a purple winter jacket.

MICROWAVE MAN— Secretly an alien.

RANDOM CONSPIRER— Likes aliens.

IC MAN #1— Looks like one of the men in black. People thinks he’s the Government.

IC MAN #2— Also looks like one of the men in black. People also think he’s the Government.

FADE IN:

EXT. IFSN CONSPIRACY HEADQUARTERS ROOM – LATE NOON

A hallway in a shabby cabin with dark grey shag carpet floors and thin army green felt walls.

(A majority of older looking men and women enter the metal headquarter door with the exception of a few younger people in their mid-twenties.)

All are dressed in beanies and winter coats due to the surrounding weather.

(LAURENT (10,000(appears 30)) stands nonchalant by an open steel door. Her black flip phone rings and she discretely answers it. It is a recorded message of a male voice).

PHONE

Before you enter the premise, the IC feels it necessary that you know what you will be dealing with. As you know, leading this meeting is our least favorite immortal: Dave. For about a month now he has been acting reckless with our secret, toying around with mortals and their fragile minds. And, as you may have already assumed, has rallied a bunch of conspiracy “theorists” from his online blog here to discuss the “Mystery man.” I’m sure you can also guess who that is. He should be faking his death any day now, and for our sake, we’ll have us at least ten years rest from his antics. Your job is to make sure he doesn’t leak anything detrimental for the IC and other immortals like yourself. Be careful though, these conspiracy “theorists” look at every insignificant detail, so if you’re caught doing or saying anything that could come off suspicious to them before Dave fakes another death, you’ll be wanting to hold a shotgun and a switchblade close by your sides. Good luck.

(The crowd of conspirators diminishes. LAURENT files in orderly after them, chin held erect and dignified).

INT. IFSN CONSPIRACY HEADQUARTERS ROOM – LATE NOON

(LAURENT finds a seat among the many chairs close to the metal door.)

The Room is just as unpleasing to look at as the hallway. This time the felt walls are a bland beige color. In the center of the room in front of the table is a big bulletin board that takes up most of the wall.

(DAVE (12,000(appears 27) comes in half running with a ton of loose papers and news articles with photos.)

(The conspirators remain unphased.)

DAVE

(In a loud and exaggerated voice) All right people! It’s happening! It’s happening! (DAVE slaps down the papers hard on the table sending a few of the papers twirling in the air. DAVE gestures dramatically to the crowded bulletin board. He speaks fast.)

DAVE

There have been sightings of this man everywhere! Look look look, they have him in The New York Times, US Today, even The Wallstreet Journal. He’s in pictures, paintings, and videos too! He’s been here throughout the centuries and yet the Government doesn’t even claim to know about him; Very suspicious, right?

CONSPIRATOR #1

(CONSPIRATOR #1 (56) looks at DAVE ponderingly. He slouches back in his chair and intertwines his fingers accusingly. His voice is gruff and has a southern accent.) Well I’m a historian, and therefore, cannot forget a human face. Now I don’t know obout you, but don’t you find it a little fishy that our Mystery Man looks exactly like you Mister Dave?

(LAURENT’s face twists in confusion)

LAURENT

Wait. Hold on a second. How on earth can being a historian make you unable to forget a face? Don’t you mean you’re a Super-Recognizer who just happens to be a historian?

CONSPIRATOR #1

No, of course not. Dem Super-recogners are a bunch o’ witches and Government robots. Do I look like a warty hag with a broomstick or sound like one of dem gosh darn robots?!?!

(DAVE pretends to be shocked, milking the expression by holding a stretched-out hand to his chest and opening his mouth wide in a louder than needed gasp. His voice is extra dramatic)

DAVE

Young lady. (DAVE winks at her) You dare call Mr. Darby Willcur a Government robot! My poor dear, are you alright. I mean I just can’t, I just won’t believe that she just called you one of those evil Government robots. Shame on you; miss Laurent, shame on you.

LAURENT

(Looking even more confused now) Wait, how did, how did you know my name???

CONSPIRATOR #2

(15) (Adjusts his glasses high and mightily) Well, I’d just like to say for one, that I am a fully licensed doctor. (CONSPIRER #2 pulls out an obviously fake Doctor’s license and holds it so the entire room can see). And because I am a licensed doctor, I can easily explain why we know all each other’s names despite only meeting for the first time. All conspirators have a Spidey Sense. When one of us sees something we weren’t supposed to see, we send the message (CONSPIRER #2 strongly holds two pointer fingers to both sides of his temple) telepathically, to the others, before the Government kills them! We call the sense: I Have A Feeling.

(LAURENT stands knowingly, looking at the others like CONSPIRATOR #2 is clearly crazy).

LAURENT

Okay, clearly, everyone can see that this child is not a doctor. (LAURENT takes the doctors license from CONSPIRATOR #2 and reads it). See, it says: Official Doctrine degree of Sir Wigglesbury. I mean this kid is what? Fifteen? (LAURENT giggles uncomfortably in front of a bunch of unfriendly glares and a CONPSIRATOR #2 who is starting to cry). And, and I mean, I mean what kind of name is Wigglesbury, am, am I right, you guys?

(DAVE dramatically strides over to CONSPIRATOR #2 and comforts him. He then looks at LAURENT disapprovingly).

DAVE

That Is enough miss Laurent! You have been banished to the Microwave of Shame!

(All conspirators in unison repeat ominously) “The Microwave of Shame”.

(LAURENT looks around baffled for a few moments, speechless, before walking defeatedly to the microwave in the back. LAURENT sits next to a small, dirty, and smelly man with a tinfoil hat who is waiting for his burrito to heat up; he is muttering some strange gibberish.

MICROWAVE MAN

(Snorts) h, hi. (Takes his burrito from the microwave and takes a giant bite. He speaks with his mouth full.) I’m a Skincare specialist.

DAVE

(At the front of the room) Now, getting back to our subject. (DAVE begins to walk back in forth across the room like a lawyer at trial would do. He speaks more calmy now, devoid of all his energy as if he were actually being serious.) You see, I have pondered this greatly. Henceforth my blog and this here meeting. There is, in fact, only one me. And I have only been on this earth for twenty-seven odd years, hence my appearance. That would mean only one thing…there are, in fact, two of myself. But that is impossible, is it not? So that can only leave one person responsible—

CONSPIRATOR #1

The Government! Of course, that there is the only logical explanation that makes sense!

(LAURENT relaxes in her chair once more.)

(DAVE returns to his energetic and extra personality again.)

DAVE

Exactly. But how are they doing this? Come on, people, I got a clipboard, paper, and a pencil. I need ideas, give me something, we have a room full of talented theorists. We must get to the bottom of this.

(CONSPIRATOR #3 (54) thrusts up a finger pointed up in the air with her idea.)

(The other conspirators continue to mumble amongst themselves.)

CONSPIRATOR #3

I’ve got it! The Government is trying to make clones so they can get rid of us or enslave us and take over the world! And it looks like they’ve already started. I say we go and attack them now!

(MICROWAVE MAN’s tin foil hat falls off his head. He hurries to put it back on).

(CONSPIRATOR #1 puts his hands out low in front of him passive-aggressively).

CONSPIRATOR #1

Whoa, calm down there, miss, we don’t have ’nough people to do that just yet. And anyhow, how do you explain the fact that that there clone of Mister Dave has been around longer than he’s been alive. And that this clone has died many times in the past.

(The conspirators look at him, DAVE does too).

(LAURENT becomes uneasy again ready to spring into action once more).

(CONSPIRATOR #1 remains unphased by the staring).

CONSPIRATOR #1

Before this here meeting, I happened to look into our Mystery Man to see if there was any books on him or textbooks that had paintings and what not of him. Like a historian does. And that there is why I know all obout his deaths.

(CONSPIRATOR #3 ponders in silence once more). (A beat)

CONSPIRATOR #3

Easy. The Government in the future must have created a time machine, looked at old city records from our present time now, found Dave, and cloned him by stealing a hair from his grave or something; and, oh boy, here’s the good part, sent him back centuries just to throw us off their trail. But NO we’re all way too smart for those evil politicians. WE knew that they were already doing this to celebrities for years already. This is just the proof we need!

(Suddenly, two men dressed like the men in black smash through the wall. It is the IC).

(Everyone scrambles around in panic trying to escape).

(MICROWAVE MAN jolts up so fast his tinfoil hat falls off again, this time to reveal he has two big green alien antennae coming out from his head).

MICROWAVE MAN

It’s the Government! (Snorts). They’ve found me! (Snorts). There’s no way I’m going back to Area 51! (Snorts). You can’t make meeee!

DAVE

Wait, you’re a— no way. I had no idea.

RANDOM CONSPIRATOR

(super chill and relaxed hiding behind a chair). I knew aliens were real.

(CONSPIRATOR #1 looks frantically around in his duffle bag).

CONSPIRATOR #1

Those darn Democrats mind controlled me into not bringing my gun this morning!

(CONSPIRATOR #2 holds two pointer fingers to both sides of his temple again with his eyes closed concentrating; he is shaking hard from trying to make something happen).

CONSPIRATOR #2

Feeeeeelingggs!!!!!!!

(DAVE slams his fist against the wall to make a loud BANG. DAVE pretends to have been shot).

DAVE

I’ve been shot. (Dramatically slumps to the ground. DAVE stretches out a hand to the two IC men). Remember me not for what I am, but for who I was. (Pretends to die)

(MICROWAVE MAN dabs his tears with his tinfoil hat).

(DAVE jolts up, looks from side to side, bolts to the door, and gets away).

IC MAN #1

(To LAURENT). You’re fired.

LAURENT

Yeah, I figured that much.

FADE OUT:

END

I remember when I was young,

Living in a little blue house in a busy little neighborhood.

There, with my father, my mother, and my sister.

Playing in the mud,

Splashing in the water,

Having dance parties,

Watching our dogs hide in the pompous grass,

Wondering where they had gone.

Hiding inside when the butterfly eggs hatched,

Thousands of black spiky caterpillars exploring high and low.

Reading Charlotte’s Web,

Naming two orb weavers Charlotte and Wilbur.

My sister and I

Sneaking off,

To our own “secret places” with mom.

Laughing and giggling in the craft store,

Chowing down on warm and fluffy pancakes at Denny’s

Bonding together.

I remember my favorite secret place:

A little trail by a tributary where we would enjoy the peacefully quiet and crisp cold air.

Finding Wilbur once more,

After he moved on from our front yard.

I remember preschool.

Making friends and colored storm clouds from shaving cream and food dye and water.

Wanting to mix all the colors and ending up with black, but still feeling proud with myself.

I remember wearing my favorite color red,

Playing with all the dinosaur toys: Triceratops, T-rex, brachiosaurus, and stegosaurus.

I remember primary school.

I remember Kindergarten being tough.

I remember I would go to a small later class: The Later Gators,

My teacher: Mrs. Thomas,

I don’t think she understood me,

She probably found me annoying.

I love the playground though,

Some older second grade girls teach me how to swing.

They push me high,

And tell me,

“Don’t forget to pump your legs!”

I remember not making many friends within my class,

Though I try my best.

First grade I enjoy!

My family and I moving into a new and bigger house with my baby brother Ben.

Meaning a brand-new school with brand new friends.

My new teacher,

Warm and pleasant.

I remember petting her leopard gecko Brownie.

Making a good friend then too.

Her name is Kalie (pronounced Kal E) though she always spells it Kaylee.

She arrived later in the school year.

Both liking the movie Bolt,

And getting along marvelously.

Together playing on the colorful playground and always having things to talk about.

Second grade was ok,

We are growing.

Kaylee and I still the best of friends.

Even becoming a trio with our new friend Charlotte.

We love to play with our Shopkins during break on the hard blacktop,

With a classroom number,

Painted in white.

Happy with my friends,

But becoming tired by other girls,

laughing at me…

In a way,

Never really caring,

Until I did,

In second grade it becomes tiresome…

I remember Third grade,

I decide to homeschool like my little sister Lila,

In hopes I could avoid the pranks…

And laughing in front or behind my back.

Homeschool is lovely!

I am still finding it that way now.

Though I do miss my friend Kaylee,

And wonder,

If she misses me too.

Fast forward to this year.

A lot has changed since I was little.

I have a new best friend: Cordelia,

She is the apple of my eye,

I have another brother Ollie,

He is turning five!

I am now in eighth grade,

Blessed and happy to be so fortunate.

Blessed with a smile in hard times.

You could even say that I am an eccedentesiast.

If you search up its meaning you may find that suits me well:

A person who hides pain behind a smile.

I like to be there for my friends;

I like to make sure they’re okay.

I don’t like to grieve in groups,

I find I grieve better alone.

I may change that,

Who knows,

I am still growing,

Finding myself.

Even though hiding my pain can be a negative trait,

It is my own way of being sad,

It helps me focus on the root of the problem.

It helps me solve it,

Like a puzzle.

This year has been hard,

Even still,

I am thankful.

It has given me a pause.

In my every day hustle and bustle of going places every day.

It has given myself a chance,

To find myself,

Know my worth.

Know my beliefs,

My dreams,

My style,

And that I am,

Tough in the face of injustice,

And unafraid to be me.

All of me,

The positive and the negative,

Souls that immerge,

And converge,

…As I Grow...

Many years ago, when a time of warring between the native people and the newly built missions of California took place. Many years ago, when California’s bare grass skin had begun to cover up and oppression began. Many years ago, little did we know, that a hero was being made.

Toypurina was a young shaman, a fish swimming upriver in a matter of speech. She lived in the tribe village of the Kizh: an ever bustling and lively place by a river. Their village had no roads; just the dust, dirt, and grass upon the earth’s floor, but for the people who lived there, that was all they needed. Before the Spaniard men had arrived on the sacred land of her ancestors, some twenty-five odd years prior, ruining the lands, the people were happy with the ways and practices and trading that unified them all with themselves and with the other tribes. Back in this time, Toypurina herself was yet to be born when the invading Padres and their soldiers first came. Back then, Toypurina’s mother and father had just been married and were settling into their home. Home, where they were happy—at least until the Padres and soldiers started their building. They built strange structures, like nothing her parents had seen before. All of them big and square—unlike the homes her people had, which were domed and small.

The Kizh people deeply resented the soldiers; the soldiers disrespected the women and killed the men who tried to save them, including Toypurina’s father. Toypurina never met her father because of the soldier who took his life. Instead, the memory of her father depended on the stories Toypurina’s mother told her. Toypurina and her brother Temejavaguichi spent the majority of their childhood by her mother’s side. Always at the ready to run in their family’s hut in case there was ever word of a soldier, or soldiers and Padres coming to “recruit” people from her tribe. Their recruits rarely ever went away by choice.

When Toypurina was six, she had a close friend: Dohasan. Dohasan was two years older than Toypurina, but that never stopped them from having fun and sharing stories. They would laugh, and sing, and go on as many adventures as their hearts desired; they lived without a single care for their struggles so long as the other was there. Their friendship lasted for six long years until Dohasan was fourteen. When Dohasan was fourteen, he was “recruited” by the Padres. Toypurina hadn’t seen him since. Toypurina’s mother took the event as a sign to keep her further under her watchful eyes; telling her that not all was in vain. For the next eleven years, Toypurina’s mother trained her to become the village’s next shaman. Despite the boredom and challenges little Toypurina faced, she did pick up other valuable lessons from her mother. Such as how to get people to listen to your words, how to earn the respect of chiefs, and how to stand by your beliefs.

Now Toypurina was twenty-five and had successfully taken over her mother’s place as Shaman for her eighth year. Her brother Temejavaguichi had taken his place as chief thirteen years prior. They were both loved and well respected by her people and other tribes that came to trade with them. Toypurina especially.

“Toypurina, there is someone here who wishes to see you,” Chief Temejavaguichi said, peaking his head through the sheet of woven grass Toypurina had draped over the entrance of her hut.

“Do we know this someone? Are they perhaps here for healing herbs?” Toypurina nodded for her brother to enter, still working on a medicinal herb mix.

“Um, I’m not sure. The man claims to know you, says he wishes to speak with you on urgent matters. He is just outside the entrance.” Chief Temejavaguichi’s tall figure slipped in through the entrance regally.

“And he doesn’t wish to speak with you on these urgent matters?” Toypurina didn’t look up from her task.

“No, which confuses me. If he mentions anything that would concern me or the tribe,” he sighed a sigh that made him seem older in years. As if he was an elder himself, though, in fact, he was very young. Only ten years older than that of Toypurina. Toypurina finished with her herb concoction, turned to the chief, making eye contact as Chief Temejavaguichi finished, “I would appreciate the information.”

“Thank you, brother, I’ll see him in.” Toypurina followed Chief Temejavaguichi out, nodded thanks, and turned to her immediate right to face a man in mission clothing.

The man must have been a neophyte because despite his black Spaniard short hair he had a Tongva complexion, specifically like the complexions the Kizh people had. His stance was familiar as well; he stood proud and erect, like a great oak. His eyes were silver. A kind of silver that reminded Toypurina of the tiny fish that swim the river bed near the edge of the village.

The man in mission clothing spoke, “Ah, so this is what you have been getting into nowadays. You have grown a mighty lot; I take it you are no longer following your mom around everywhere.” The man chuckled, Toypurina was confused. She didn’t recognize this man and yet he talked to her like they had known each other since they were little. The man smiled at Toypurina’s baffled expression. Animatedly he said, “You don’t remember me?”

“I’m sorry but I don’t,” Toypurina confessed.

“Ah, I see, but do you remember the name Dohasan?” he inquired.

Toypurina paused a moment, mulling over the deepest parts of her soul for the name. She remembered. Her eyes and her mind lit up with happiness although she kept it hidden for the most part. Toypurina turned to re-enter her hut and gestured for Dohasan to join her.

Toypurina and Dohasan conversed for the next hour, catching up on what the other had missed before they covered the real reason for their meeting.

“Before I go on any further, Doha—I mean Nicholas José; my apologies, I keep forgetting you have a new name.”

“It’s fine, and please, Toy. Call me José,”

“So tell me, José, why did you wish to see me?”

“Can’t an old friend stop by and say hello?”

“Of course, but considering the travel, it would be impractical. I know you too well to waste such time.”

“Very true. The truth is I came here to discuss the San Gabriel Mission. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“If you’re here just to convert me, then you can leave. I am needed here amongst the tribe. And you know what those soldiers did to my father. That I cannot forgive.”

“Actually your bitterness towards the mission is exactly why I need you,” he paused to grab Toypurina’s attention. “I among other neophytes have been displeased—you may say—at how the mission is being run. We believe that the Spaniards have usurped these sacred lands.” Toypurina listened as closely as she could to his conspiring. “I wish for your aid in recruiting the other tribes and their chiefs. It won’t be pretty, but our plan is to use your powers to kill off the Padres, one by one, leaving the soldiers to fight. Are you in?”

Toypurina nodded her head, accepting the call.

That day, Jose joined her in the trek to the other tribe territories. They visited five of them, three of which accepted their requests and sent a small group of representatives to hear the plan. That night, a date was set. October 25th, in three nights they would attack. Nothing could go wrong.

* * *

The night of the 25th was a clear night from above the Kizh village, but gray clouds would be rolling in soon. The winds were sleeping and the animals continued their nightly activities as usual. The chiefs and their bravest men were among the group gathered around Toypurina’s hut under the stars. Chief Temejavaguichi was there as well. Though he had his negative emotions toward joining the attack, he did it for Toypurina’s sake. Bows were strung, quivers were filled, and throwing sticks were sharpened to a point. The army of Tongva people made their way to their target: San Gabriel.

The travel was long. It was well past midnight by the time they arrived at San Gabriel. The winds had aroused from their slumber. It blew against them. It blew in such a way that it would remind someone of how the California tide would change its plans and head back out to sea. It would remind someone of stepping into a stream of fish and watching how they would scatter and change direction.

“Okay, Toy, go scout ahead,” said José from behind the same foliage the rest of the army took cover in.

Toypurina slipped into an opening of one of the outdoor hallways. Cautious, she lurked around while keeping an eye out for any Padres or soldiers. Good, she thought, they must all be in their beds fast asleep. Toypurina stuck her head out from where she had entered the hallway. She gave a nod, signaling that the coast was clear and José led the army to the entrance. Toypurina followed. The grass rustled and Toypurina suddenly became aware of how strong the wind was.

“Huh, I did not expect Soldier Garciade to be correct about this attack. Well done.” A Padre stepped out from behind a front pillar. The Tongva army stiffened, readying their weapons. A massive group of soldiers surrounded everyone, including Toypurina. “Well, well, this just is no good now, is it? Conspiring against the Spanish government,” he paused thoughtfully, a malicious grin spread across his pudgy face, “I won’t lie though, this will make quite the interesting trial hearing.”

The Tongva army dropped their weapons and a soldier confiscated them. The Padre noticed that one of the Tongva people struggled with the soldier, still gripped onto his throwing stick. Dangerously soft, he giggled.

“How precious is this!” He exclaimed, “If it isn’t little Nicholas José. I would say I’m shocked, but you never really did fit in, now did you?” José scowled toward the Padre’s remark.

The soldiers escorted Toypurina and the defeated Tongva army to the mission’s basement cellar. While Toypurina and the others awaited trial, they remained locked in and guarded by soldiers day and night for the next week, receiving minimal meals of bread and water three times a day.

By the day of the third trial, the Padres had scoped out the head people of José’s plan. That day, soldiers roughly took Toypurina, José, Chief Temejavaguichi, and the two other chiefs that had joined the attack, to the mission “court room.” The room was organized to something similar to what Toypurina had experienced in trials held by her own tribe, but there were still a lot of foreign elements as well. The mission room had many wooden benches in many rows. The Padre from before sat behind a large wooden table. He had on a white powdered wig which looked strange to Toypurina.

The group of head Tongva and José sat at a long table. There were hostile looks from all around. The Padre hit the table with a loud sounding hammer. Everyone rose, including José, so Toypurina, and the three chiefs, not sure what was going on copied.

The Padre spoke, “Thank you, you all may be seated. Seeing that we do not have a proper judge with us yet I shall take over the place as a holy man. I will start by calling to the stand each of the chiefs.” The Padre held an index finger to his chin in quick thought. He pointed to the Chief to Toypurina’s far right of the table opposite her. “You there, please come and testify yourself.”

The Chief walked forward and took his place beside the Padre’s great big table. From what the Chief was saying he would most likely get off, easily pardoned. Though his testimony did not help Toypurina’s case at all. One of the things the Chief had said in specific jostled her. He said, “it’s not my fault, you see it was Toypurina’s sweet words and hidden threats that clouded my mind. I have no quarrel with San Gabriel. My own son was baptized here. And you must believe me, now that her words have no more control over me anymore, I have no greater desire than to get my hands around her throat and still her serpent’s tongue.”

The second Chief gave similar testimony. The only real help to her were the testimonies of José and her brother; José admitted to planning the attack, and his hatred toward the Padres because of their ban of allowing him to do tribal dances and ceremonies. And Toypurina’s brother: Chief Temejavaguichi claimed to have come on his own free accord. Toypurina herself claimed that she had asked Temejavaguichi to persuade the Christians into trusting them, and not the Padres. She also claimed that she wanted the Padres and the soldiers to leave their lands. By the end of the trial, most of the blame was pointed towards Toypurina. The mission jury came to a conclusion.

The Padre spoke, “With the new light shed onto this case, these three chiefs shall go with impunity and José shall go with six years of hard labor at San Diego presido for punishment. And as for Toypurina, I can see that she was the brains behind this act. She is too dangerous to be left to her own device. So with you, I sentence you to banishment. You shall be banished for life to Mission San Carlos Berromeo. You will go without struggle. You shall go and marry a soldier that the mission picks for you. And you shall go without goodbyes. Trial concluded.”

Toypurina felt like she had just been struck in the chest with a log. She fell onto her knees unaware of the world around her. Unaware of her brother fighting against soldiers to get to her. Unaware of the celebrating enemy. Unaware of the soldiers that grabbed her roughly by the arms, dragging her away for good.

This is for those who feel lost.

For those who feel anxious.

For those who feel depressed.

For those who feel like giving up.

On themselves….

And on life.

I’d like to share with you a story. It’s not long, but its message is important. It’s about a shepherd and his flock of 100 sheep. One day, the shepherd is tending to his flock when one of the sheep: a lamb, wanders off and gets itself lost. The shepherd immediately goes out to find the lamb, leaving the 99 safe in their field. So the shepherd is searching and searching for the lost lamb. The search is hard but he does not give up; he is relentless in his search. He will not stop until that lamb is found and safe back in their field. And when he finally finds that lamb that he has been searching for. He embraces it and lovingly carries it back home.

The shepherd is my God and we are the sheep. The 99 are the Christians and the lamb might just be you. And you may feel lost right now. I want you to know that God sees the 99. He sees the Christians. He could just say “well I may have lost one sheep but I have 99 so I’ll just settle with them and leave that lamb alone in the forest”. But he doesn’t. He knows that the Christians are okay, that they are safe in that field, that they are safe because they know him. They are not the ones that are lost; they are not the ones that need saving. So he goes out to find that lost lamb because yeah he has 99 without it but he doesn’t care. He wants this lost lamb. He wants you. And if you are seeing this, this might be a sign. You might be lost in the forest not sure what to do. Maybe God has been waiting to give you that wake-up call. Maybe he is waiting for you to open your ears and hear him calling out to you.

Because you know what? Even when you feel that no one wants you, even when you feel that no one loves you, even if you feel that you could just disappear and no one would notice. You are wrong. God is always by your side, he is always loving you, and he notices. Even if you don’t know him and even if you don’t believe in him he still loves you. He still wants to know you. He believes in you wholeheartedly. And you may feel something right now that doesn’t feel good; he knows that. And if that is true he wants to come into your life more than ever right now because he wants you to feel better. He doesn’t want you to give up. God made all of us for a reason. He gave you life because he knows that you are destined for truly great things.

Stay strong and keep moving forward. You are important and you matter one hundred percent.

House dreary and drab,

lacking emotion and starved of color.

Almost swallowed by a well,

and chased, by a motorbike.

Now my hands are blistered and red.

Kinda wishing I was dead,

or better, back at home.

Where I used to live,

not that long ago.

Found a door,

wandering around bored.

Opened with a button key,

nothing but brick inside for me.

Heard a mouse call outside my room,

chased it about to the parlor room.

Tried to open the brick-choked door,

but found a tunnel smooth and fine.

Like that of a caterpillar spine.

Crawled right through and found,

the same old house, but rich and bold.

Wandered to the kitchen room.

Found my mother, but she looked new.

Just like her in every way,

except for the buttons.

Sewn over her eyes.