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Description
Inlé returned to his room shearing through the boundary between this reality and the other, two feet above the ground, legs and arms crossed. His hair, now the pastel colors of the sunset, hung straight down, untied, and blood trickled lightly from his scalp.

Blood and the various colors of sunset and aurora were visibly splattered over his tattered hoodie, which had lost half the left sleeve and the entire right one, revealing the black tee shirt beneath.

His left pant leg was torn up the inseam and again down from the center of the back pocket, causing a strip to dangle nearly to the ground. His right shoe was missing, and that foot oozed dark, half-dried blood.

Landing lightly, he inspected himself. After removing his clothes, he stood naked over the pile of ruined clothing with a dozen small silver bracelets hanging around his left wrist.

The gash across his chest stretched from his left collarbone to the bottom rib on the right, deep and slowly oozing. Numerous smaller nicks and scratches covered his arms and torso, and his ankle's wound was deep. He was somewhat bruised as well, and his eyes were sunken with fatigue.

He dabbed his ruined shirt against his wounds, then pulled a small knife and a needle from the sleeve of his hoodie. With the knife, he removed a single, long thread from the seam of the hoodie. He then began to sew his large wound closed.

From the door, Inlé's mother called in, "Inlé! I just heard a crashing noise just now. Is something the matter?"

"No, mother," Inlé responded, "I"--He inhaled sharply as he pulled the needle through--"am fine. I just knocked something out of the dresser." He hissed again, then called, "Hey, what is this anyway? Did you put a little statue in my closet?"

From behind the locked door, his mother called, "What? Let me see what you're talking about!"

Inlé finished closing his wound and replied, "Hold on, I was changing. Just let me finish first. And comb my hair. I will be out in ten minutes with it. Okay?"

"Okay," his mother replied calmly.

Inlé quickly closed the hole in his ankle, rose, and opened his bureau. Inside were a dozen sets of clothing identical to those on the floor behind him, save clean. A shelf above them stored an equal number of identical pairs of Inlé's silver shoes. Removing two sets of clothing and one pair of shoes, he hung one set on the door, and donned the other with the shoes. Within the bureau, a dozen sets of clothing hung beneath an equal number of shoes.

Reaching into his sleeve, Inlé pulled out a comb and brushed the sunset colors out of his hair and onto the pile of ruined clothes. Finishing, he returned the comb to his sleeve and threw the second set of removed clothing over the mess.

He stared at the pile for a moment, then muttered to himself as he knelt, "Now for the cover-up."

He began tracing a circle on the ground, by dragging some of the liquid aurora with his finger. "Simple, yet pretty." He traced a square circumscribed within the circle. "Marble, perhaps?" He circumscribed a diamond within the circle, None of the eight points touched. "A unicorn." He traced a symbol into each point, starting from the top and writing counter-clockwise: α, σ, τ, α, τ, υ, ε, ◦.

Leaning back, he looked down at the hasty circle. "That should work. Here goes ..."

Inlé knelt over the circle and whispered, "Tsaf ti deen I .Seye erihppas eslaf htiw elbram etihw .Nrocinu a fo eutats a em dnes ,Ydal ,esaelp"

The circle glowed, flashing the colors of the fluid used to trace it. Slowly the circle warped and melted into nothingness as a small statue took form.

The statue was a life-like rendition of a unicorn, apparently carved from white marble, and with blue sapphire eyes. It stood lightly, as if frozen while grazing. It was beautiful. But the aurora-fluid had left its smear on the beast, streaking the white surface with pastel reds and greens and blues. These streaks, though, made it more beautiful still.

Picking the statue up, Inlé muttered, "It is a sloppy job at best, but that is because I rushed it. Ah well."

He went to the door, and opened it to find his mother standing in front of it. Inlé lifts the statue and asked, "Is this your way of giving me a secret present or something?"

Staring at the statue, his mother responded, "No. I've never seen anything so pretty before. It really is lovely."

Inlé agreed, "It is that. Well, maybe it was something meant for you that I forgot about. It is yours."

His mother looked up at him happily as she took the statue. "Thank you, it's very pretty. I'm glad you remembered I like ..."

Her face suddenly darkened as she looked at his face, "Inlé! I can't believe you! Oh, I ought to just box your ears for this! You didn't even go to the psychiatrist's did you? You were off fighting or stealing, weren't you? Is this stolen?"

Inlé replied expressionlessly, "What? What do you mean? You do not believe me?"

"Believe you?" his mother cried. "You're bleeding out of the forehead and God knows where else, and you wonder why I don't believe you? I'm just surprised I didn't see a gash that big when you came in!"

"Gash?" Inlé echoed. "Bleeding?" Sure enough, having forgotten to patch the wound on his forehead, Inlé had left it to bleed again.

His mother was furious. "Don't play dumb with me, you. You couldn't have not noticed that."

"Had I known I was bleeding, mother, I would not have come to the door," Inlé said. "You would flip ou ..." Then an idea came to him. "Ah! That must be from when the statue fell out."

Skeptic, his mother said, "I don't buy it. You'd have said something before if that were the case."

"No," Inlé said, "I did not think about it. The statue hit me in the head with one of its hooves and must have clipped me better than I gave it credit for. You had best be careful not to drop it on your foot or something. That'd hurt a lot."

Wanting to believe, wanting to think her son wasn't a delinquent, Inlé's mother conceded. "Well, I guess that could be what happened. I'll trust you for now. But if I find out you're lying to me ..." The sentence dragged off, leaving the implied threat unsaid.

"You won't," Inlé assured her.

A quizzical eyebrow lifted and a brief smirk preceded her saying, "Oh? So you've tricked me that good, eh?"

"No," Inlé said. "I mean that I really did go to the shrink and all that."

His mother began to walk back toward the living room. She called over her shoulder, "All right, you win. I'm going to find a place to put this. You can go back to your homework."

"I don't ..." Inlé began.

"And don't you dare tell me you don't have any. I know you do."

Inlé closed the door behind himself muttering, "Five minutes go by here, fifty hours go by there. Fifty more straight hours without rest." He dropped down between a corner and his dresser, propping his his heels up against the dresser and his back against the wall. "I don't need homework, I need some sleep."

And sleep he did.

Description
Inlé returned to his room shearing through the boundary between this reality and the other, two feet above the ground, legs and arms crossed. His hair, now the pastel colors of the sunset, hung straight down, untied, and blood trickled lightly from his scalp.

Blood and the various colors of sunset and aurora were visibly splattered over his tattered hoodie, which had lost half the left sleeve and the entire right one, revealing the black tee shirt beneath.

His left pant leg was torn up the inseam and again down from the center of the back pocket, causing a strip to dangle nearly to the ground. His right shoe was missing, and that foot oozed dark, half-dried blood.

Landing lightly, he inspected himself. After removing his clothes, he stood naked over the pile of ruined clothing with a dozen small silver bracelets hanging around his left wrist.

The gash across his chest stretched from his left collarbone to the bottom rib on the right, deep and slowly oozing. Numerous smaller nicks and scratches covered his arms and torso, and his ankle's wound was deep. He was somewhat bruised as well, and his eyes were sunken with fatigue.

He dabbed his ruined shirt against his wounds, then pulled a small knife and a needle from the sleeve of his hoodie. With the knife, he removed a single, long thread from the seam of the hoodie. He then began to sew his large wound closed.

From the door, Inlé's mother called in, "Inlé! I just heard a crashing noise just now. Is something the matter?"

"No, mother," Inlé responded, "I"--He inhaled sharply as he pulled the needle through--"am fine. I just knocked something out of the dresser." He hissed again, then called, "Hey, what is this anyway? Did you put a little statue in my closet?"

From behind the locked door, his mother called, "What? Let me see what you're talking about!"

Inlé finished closing his wound and replied, "Hold on, I was changing. Just let me finish first. And comb my hair. I will be out in ten minutes with it. Okay?"

"Okay," his mother replied calmly.

Inlé quickly closed the hole in his ankle, rose, and opened his bureau. Inside were a dozen sets of clothing identical to those on the floor behind him, save clean. A shelf above them stored an equal number of identical pairs of Inlé's silver shoes. Removing two sets of clothing and one pair of shoes, he hung one set on the door, and donned the other with the shoes. Within the bureau, a dozen sets of clothing hung beneath an equal number of shoes.

Reaching into his sleeve, Inlé pulled out a comb and brushed the sunset colors out of his hair and onto the pile of ruined clothes. Finishing, he returned the comb to his sleeve and threw the second set of removed clothing over the mess.

He stared at the pile for a moment, then muttered to himself as he knelt, "Now for the cover-up."

He began tracing a circle on the ground, by dragging some of the liquid aurora with his finger. "Simple, yet pretty." He traced a square circumscribed within the circle. "Marble, perhaps?" He circumscribed a diamond within the circle, None of the eight points touched. "A unicorn." He traced a symbol into each point, starting from the top and writing counter-clockwise: α, σ, τ, α, τ, υ, ε, ◦.

Leaning back, he looked down at the hasty circle. "That should work. Here goes ..."

Inlé knelt over the circle and whispered, "Tsaf ti deen I .Seye erihppas eslaf htiw elbram etihw .Nrocinu a fo eutats a em dnes ,Ydal ,esaelp"

The circle glowed, flashing the colors of the fluid used to trace it. Slowly the circle warped and melted into nothingness as a small statue took form.

The statue was a life-like rendition of a unicorn, apparently carved from white marble, and with blue sapphire eyes. It stood lightly, as if frozen while grazing. It was beautiful. But the aurora-fluid had left its smear on the beast, streaking the white surface with pastel reds and greens and blues. These streaks, though, made it more beautiful still.

Picking the statue up, Inlé muttered, "It is a sloppy job at best, but that is because I rushed it. Ah well."

He went to the door, and opened it to find his mother standing in front of it. Inlé lifts the statue and asked, "Is this your way of giving me a secret present or something?"

Staring at the statue, his mother responded, "No. I've never seen anything so pretty before. It really is lovely."

Inlé agreed, "It is that. Well, maybe it was something meant for you that I forgot about. It is yours."

His mother looked up at him happily as she took the statue. "Thank you, it's very pretty. I'm glad you remembered I like ..."

Her face suddenly darkened as she looked at his face, "Inlé! I can't believe you! Oh, I ought to just box your ears for this! You didn't even go to the psychiatrist's did you? You were off fighting or stealing, weren't you? Is this stolen?"

Inlé replied expressionlessly, "What? What do you mean? You do not believe me?"

"Believe you?" his mother cried. "You're bleeding out of the forehead and God knows where else, and you wonder why I don't believe you? I'm just surprised I didn't see a gash that big when you came in!"

"Gash?" Inlé echoed. "Bleeding?" Sure enough, having forgotten to patch the wound on his forehead, Inlé had left it to bleed again.

His mother was furious. "Don't play dumb with me, you. You couldn't have not noticed that."

"Had I known I was bleeding, mother, I would not have come to the door," Inlé said. "You would flip ou ..." Then an idea came to him. "Ah! That must be from when the statue fell out."

Skeptic, his mother said, "I don't buy it. You'd have said something before if that were the case."

"No," Inlé said, "I did not think about it. The statue hit me in the head with one of its hooves and must have clipped me better than I gave it credit for. You had best be careful not to drop it on your foot or something. That'd hurt a lot."

Wanting to believe, wanting to think her son wasn't a delinquent, Inlé's mother conceded. "Well, I guess that could be what happened. I'll trust you for now. But if I find out you're lying to me ..." The sentence dragged off, leaving the implied threat unsaid.

"You won't," Inlé assured her.

A quizzical eyebrow lifted and a brief smirk preceded her saying, "Oh? So you've tricked me that good, eh?"

"No," Inlé said. "I mean that I really did go to the shrink and all that."

His mother began to walk back toward the living room. She called over her shoulder, "All right, you win. I'm going to find a place to put this. You can go back to your homework."

"I don't ..." Inlé began.

"And don't you dare tell me you don't have any. I know you do."

Inlé closed the door behind himself muttering, "Five minutes go by here, fifty hours go by there. Fifty more straight hours without rest." He dropped down between a corner and his dresser, propping his his heels up against the dresser and his back against the wall. "I don't need homework, I need some sleep."

And sleep he did.