Generation 2

Gen Two Prologue

Even as my mind screamed to turn around, my legs kept moving forward. Cool October air blew stray strands of hair into my face as sand crunched under my sneakers. Through the veil of darkness that had settled around us I could faintly make out the silhouettes of Mithos and Pandora as they collected sea shells and watched the waves break across the shore. That wasn’t who I was headed towards, however.

Two men were gathered around a small animal, taking turns scaring it and laughing as the poor puppy cowered away from them. I was practically pleading with myself now, begging my feet to carry me away from the horrific scene in front of me.  Instead my mouth opened, words clumsily tumbling out, “Um-m, W-wha are-re you do-doing?”

The men’s boisterous laughter died on their lips as their eyes fell on my face. Their gaze lingered on my hair for a while, the silence that stretched between us only broken by the whimpering of the small puppy. I began shifting my weight from one foot to the other, nervously fidgeting as I screamed at myself to run.

Eventually one of them swore under their breath and another stepped forward, grasping my face in one of his large calloused hands. Bending down to look into my eyes, I fought back my own look of disgust as his hot sour breath fanned my face. “Why would you dye your hair, freak?” He slurred in a low voice, anger dripping from every word. I opened my mouth to answer but fear crippled my body, stilling the air in my lungs.

I must have taken too long to respond because his hands dropped to my shoulders, shaking me. The violent motion caused my teeth to clatter together but elicited my reply, “I did-didn’t.” This did not please the red man as his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.

“She’s one of them.” One of the Berries I couldn’t see stated, annoyance tainting his voice.

The red man raised his hand, bringing the back of it across my cheek with a resounding smack. Fire scorched across the cheek he struck, pain pulsing in time with my heart as a yelp materialized from my lips. Warmth dripped from the scrape his ring had torn into my skin. Before he had a chance to strike me again he had been sent crashing down to the sandy ground by the force of Mithos’ body crashing into his. Of course one of his hands had been death gripped onto my skin, causing me to teeter unsteadily. Pandora kept me on my feet as Mithos placed himself carefully between us and the two other Berries, “Get Estelle out of here!”

His voice caused the purple Berries to move forward, wrestling him to the ground. The red berry climbed back to his feet, eyes trained straight on me. My legs still weren’t cooperating despite Pandora’s insistent tugging on the sleeve of my hoodie. I watched helplessly as Mithos was pulled back onto his feet, eyes squinting in pain, as the purple Berry held him in a headlock, “Estelle, run!”

I didn’t have much choice at this point, since Panda grabbed hold onto my hand and began to pull me away. She led me away as fast as her feet would carry her but it wasn’t fast enough to escape the strangled cries that ripped from Mithos’ throat.

I chanced a glance behind us as we ran, tears welling up in my eyes as my big brother was repeatedly kicked and punched by men twice his size. “Don’t you watch Estelle. Don’t you dare!” He shouted in between howls.


A gasp escaped my lips as I sat up in bed, finally escaping the nightmare that had haunted my dreams for the past five years. It was a nightly occurrence and always the same; a repeat of the events that had ended my brother’s life. He had always been my protector; my guardian from the monsters under the bed. Even in his last moments he had been worried about me, howling for me to turn away from the scene he knew would give me nightmares.

My cries were quiet as I tried my best to ease out of bed without waking Panda or Mama. It wasn’t a hard feat to accomplish since I had learned to silence my pain the same night Mama had taken up residence in Mithos’ old bed. Since his death she had become so fragile, constantly teetering on the edge of tears. It had gotten better as time passed but when October fifteenth approached she slowly broke apart again.

It just so happened that today was October fourteenth.

I crept out of my bedroom on my tippy-toes, hands nervously grasping at the small notebook I kept on me at all times. The bathroom was across the hallway and I gracefully slipped inside. The door clicked behind me, signaling my collapse onto the tiled floor. Tears streamed down my cheeks and pathetic whimpers eased their way into the air as I stared at the clock, silently counting own the seconds to my brother’s death.

Minutes passed and soon my sobs had dried to snivels. My body stopped it’s pitiful shaking and I managed to climb back onto my feet. A few splashes of water on my face erased the evidence of my episode and I stood there, staring back at my plain reflection. Anger welled up and before I could process what I was doing I had flung my notebook open and begun scribbling on the paper.

After my message was complete I tore the page out, holding it for my reflection to read.

‘You killed him.’

Generation One

Chapter Nineteen: Gen 1 Finale – No One’s Laughing

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war

As the weeks passed, the number of individuals who were gunned down in Bubbleport increased.  Mr. Prelude had been the first, though he had somehow survived the shooting – a real miracle, according to the reporters. The bullet that struck him had missed his vital organs but pierced through his spin upon exiting, restricting him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life as a paraplegic. Still, he was a lucky man compared to the dozen other uprising supporters who could now be found in the local Bubbleport cemeteries.

No one was ever arrested in the shooting of Mr. Prelude. No one was arrested for killing any of the other Berries, either. The media claimed that the police were vigilantly inspecting the cases for evidence. I knew better than to believe those lies. Many of the shootings were done in public, with several eye witnesses to the murders. Numerous witnesses would not stand trial or speak to the police, either out of fear of becoming victims themselves or out of hate for the dead, but many did speak up. They were just turned away or quickly labeled as an unreliable source.  The police, though they would never admit it, had no desire to lock away the criminals that had ended so many lives.

The strings of violent crimes against members of the uprising caused its membership to fall off. Loyalty to the cause was all but forgotten when their own lives were at stake. Suddenly everyone was afraid of the resistance’s influence, of what gratuitous actions might be taken against them. It stayed that way for years and an uneasy peace settled over the city of Bubbleport.

Then, one night, the resistance re-emerged as a faceless organization. The revolution worked at night, under the veil of darkness. No longer able to spread their thoughts and opinions through open media outlets, they began painting the city in posters. Posters that depicted my sculpture, the image that was leaked to the resistance and slogans were soon plastered on every building of every street. The city would clean off the ‘defecation of private property’, as the media liked to call it, only to have it slathered back on again the following night. The city tightened its night patrol and declared martial law in attempts to gain control over the situation and, for a while, it seemed they had won. Then slowly, the reports started back up. One poster here. Another there. It was nowhere near the scale as it had been but it was the beacon of hope some needed. The beacon of hope I needed.

No one’s laughing at God
When they’re starving or freezing or so very poor

Of course, I watched these events unfold over the past three years via my television. The photograph that had been leaked was never traced back to my family. It was never traced back to anyone, to be honest. While I suspected it was Cephei who had slipped the image into someone’s hands, I couldn’t be certain. The night the initial riots broke out Cephei had attempted to contact me. She tried to contact me for weeks after the image was released. I just didn’t want to hear her excuses, her reasons. Ivy sided with me on this, as did Cream. Both women openly discussed their contempt for the yellow Berry with each other and Ivy often apologized for having faith in Cephei for so long. I think it goes without saying that Ivy no longer resides in the same home as her anymore.

While Bubbleport was in ruins, Sugar Valley seemed to revolve in ignorant bliss. There were no posters here. No protestors demanding the truth. Everyone simply acted as if the occurrences in Bubbleport were a nuisance that occasionally caused the price of luxury goods to rise. While this irritated me to no end, I couldn’t help but be relived at the same time.

If no members of uprising made a scene here then that meant the resistance would be at bay, as well. As long as the resistance didn’t storm into town, throwing caution and law to the wind, I could manage to sleep at night. Because as long as they were not here it meant the chance of harm falling upon my family was at a minimum.


No one laughs at God
When the doctor calls after some routine tests

“Dad, you promised!”

I suddenly had to curse my son’s curiosity and, apparently, his amazing memory as well, “I just don’t think it is good idea.”

“How come we never get to go anywhere! I just want to see the ocean.” Mithos pleaded.

“Because we’re freaks,” Pandora hissed as she walked into the kitchen and plopped herself down into a chair, “right, Mom?”

Even though she was currently stirring cake mix, Cream didn’t miss a beat, “You’re not a freak, honey,” She paused for a moment and then added, “None of you are.”

Pandora rolled her eyes but stayed silent as I answered Mithos original question, “It’s dangerous out there, Myth. You’re thirteen. I know you all think you know everything but you don’t and –“

“Of course I don’t, you don’t let us do anything.” Mithos whined, following his sister’s example of throwing himself down at the dinner table.

The moody teenage years were upon them and every day I wished they could go back to being the little tikes I use to tuck into bed and read stories to. Honestly, Pandora was the worse. She was never in a good mood, had a bad habit of throwing herself around like a ragdoll and cursed like a sailor. I wasn’t sure where she got it from – I certainly didn’t swear often and neither did Cream – but she could fit more curse words into one sentence than verbs, adjective and nouns combined. Despite her attitude problem, and her tendency to tease Estelle, Pandora had her redeeming qualities. She was quick, witty, and perceptive – not to mention a good fighter. For her last two birthdays in a row she had asked for karate lessons, which we substituted for home lessons via videos.

Myth, on the other hand, was a clone of myself. He was artistic, brave and didn’t believe in the constructs of society – well, the ones that he was aware of, anyway. Cream and I must have told him one too many times as a kid that it was duty to protect his sisters, because he had basically promised to defend them both from any dangers – even imaginary ones. He still checked under Estelle’s bed every night for monsters and often chided Pandora for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

Estelle didn’t have a moody bone in her body. She was quiet, possessed a soft voice and rarely spoke unless she was spoken to first. She never complained about the restrictions we put on the three of them and always sat silently when Myth and Panda would attempt to wiggle their way outside. Sometimes though, when the family was having a discussion, she would pipe up out of nowhere and put the whole household to shame with her verbose explanations and diction. She had quite the way with words; she was just too shy to use them.

“Estellise, fudging tell father he can’t make fudging promises he won’t fudging keep.” Panda implored her sister, to which Estelle just shrugged and continued to swing her feet under the table.

“Young lady, we do not use such language!” Cream shouted over her shoulder. Panda rolled her eyes but muttered something that sounded akin to an apology.

“Look you two; I made that promise when you were little. I had no idea that the dangers in the world would spin so out of hand. I just, I can’t take that risk now. Maybe when you are older.”

“We’re thirteen!” Mithos cried, “We’re gonna waste away in this house!”

My reply was cut off by the chime of the doorbell, “I’m going to get that. You all better be on your best behavior.” I warned. Estelle’s cheerful ‘yes sir!’ was almost drowned out by Panda and Myth’s whines.

I already knew who was at the door so when I opened it and two familiar green faces were present, it didn’t surprise me. It was, however, weird to see Ivy with a man. Her husband, to be more exact.

It had been a long road for my best friend and though I didn’t approve of her using this guy as a cover, I wasn’t going to out her to him. Plus, she really wanted children and apparently that was enough to justify marrying a man she could never really love.

The dinner passed by with no real issues. Panda gave her signature attitude throughout dinner but Estelle and Mithos were both well behaved in front of our guests. After being excused from the table, the three teenagers made their way to the back of the house and into their bedroom.

The rest of the night was spent chatting away about our lives. Ivy was now a prominent surgeon at the hospital and had a reputation for being able to save individuals who were passed saving. She was so well known, in fact, that many rich Berries from other parts of the country personally requested her services. They would travel great distances in order to see her or even pay for her flights if they were not well enough to make the trip.

Her husband, Cameo, was a writer from Bubbleport and had met Ivy when he had been in town doing an interview of her. At first Ivy hadn’t cared much for the man but slowly, as they got to know each other over his work, she realized he shared her view on many important political stances – including Mixed Berries, Gay Marriage and Inter-Color Laws. Once he trusted her enough, he admitted that he himself was a part of the uprising in Bubbleport, but only used a pen name when he published articles of that nature.

No one’s laughing at God
When it’s gotten real late
And their kid’s not back from the party yet

During our long winded conversation, Cream had excused herself to check on the triplets. When she returned, her face was whiter than usual and tears were welling up in her eyes, “Maize, I can’t find them!”

I turned away from Ivy and Cameo, smile dying from my lips, “What do you mean you can’t find them? Who can’t you find?” It was a dumb question, really. I knew she had to be referring to our kids. No one else was here, after all.

“Our babies, Maize! They’re gone! Their bedroom window is open and they’re gone.” She emphasized the word gone this time, hoping that I would see the importance of the situation.

I did. I was on my feet and searching for the keys to my motorcycle, “Go look in the art room, the bathroom, the waterfall. Anywhere they might be hiding.” I ordered no one in particular. Cream nodded, taking off to check the other rooms while Ivy ran outside to check the pond and waterfall nearby. She must not have gotten far because before I even realized she was missing she was back in the living room, eyes wide.

“Maize, Cameo’s car is missing…”

“What?” Cameo and I shouted in unison, though for different reasons. His car was expensive.

Finally finding my keys, I snatched them off of the bookcase just as Cream came back into the room, “Maize, let me come with you.”

I shook my head, gesturing to Ivy instead, “Will you look after Cream?”

“I will not just sit here while my babies are missing!” Cream bellowed. I flinched, biting my bottom lip. I knew Cream would slow me down; I couldn’t drive as fast with her tagging along on the back of the Beast. We had tried it once before when we were younger and she had been terrified. I couldn’t vocalize that, though. Cream would have my head.

Ivy came to my recuse, “We’ll call a cab to my house and then grab my van to look in town.”

I didn’t stick around to hear whether or not Cream agreed to this plan.


No one laughs at God
When the cops knock on their door
And they say we got some bad news, sir

Every moment that I didn’t know where my children were might as well been another blade in my heart. The throbbing in my chest emanated pain throughout my whole body and left a sour taste in my mouth. Tears started blurring my sight, whether from the wind whipping relentless at my eyes or the morbid thoughts that clouded my judgment, I wasn’t certain. I made a routine of wiping my face with the back of my hand in lame attempts to clear my vision. I needed to be able to see – to drive and to find my children.

Soon the sun had set, the late October air biting into my exposed skin. The adrenaline pumping through my system kept me warm despite the falling temperatures as I zigzagged through traffic haphazardly, running stop signs and red lights alike. I ignored the curses thrown callously my way as I cut off a minivan. I must have been searching for hours already, hands stiff on the handlebars, when an epiphany hit me.

The ocean.

Making a wide U-turn, I headed off in the direction of the beach without a second thought. Something in the pit of my stomach told me this is where I would find them. The speed limit was all but forgotten as I raced towards my destination.

I hadn’t even reached the sea before the air became heavy, salt adding a light fragrance to the night. The roads were deserted at this hour – since it was well past midnight – and my single headlight was the sole source of light illuminating the street. Bile rose to the back of my throat, filling my mouth with a distinctively sour taste as two figures burst into view.

Panda and Estelle.

Their hands were tightly clasped together, hair matted down with sweat and dirt. Their wide eyes darted around the open field, fear prominent in their young faces. My stomach dropped as they turned their heads in my direction, blood smeared on both of their fair skin. As they registered who I was the slowly faded from their features as tears welled up in their eyes. They hurried towards me, hands still tightly clasped. I had long since pulled over, hastily strewing my motorcycle in the grass as I raced to their side.

“Are you alright?”

I held onto them with the intention of never letting them go, tears streaking our face as we cherished each other’s warmth. Both girls nodded, hands making small fists in the fabric of my jacket. It wasn’t until Pandora spoke up, teeth chattering, that I realized something was missing.

No one’s laughing at God
When there’s a famine or fire or flood

“Daddy, Myth, he’s… There were these men a-and they started messing with Estelle s-so.” She was speaking so fast I could hardly understand her. The moment Pandora mentioned the men, Estelle soft cries turned into heart wrenching sobs.

I quickly fumbled into my pockets, extracting my cellphone, “Call mother and tell her where we are. Where did you last see Mithos?”

Estelle raised a shaky hand east, the direction they had been fleeing from, before she let go of my jacket and reattached herself to her sister. I gave them both fleeting kisses on the forehead and instructions to sit still until their mother or I returned, before swiftly ran towards the horizon.

It was a good fifteen minute trek downhill before the grass slowly began to ebb away to sand. The darkness clung to the sea and the only help my eyes received was from the waning moon that hung high in the velvet sky. The men Pandora had been whimpering about must have already departed as the beach was isolated. Silence hung thick in the air, only shattered by the occasional wave that crashed against the shore. I slowly began walking parallel to the waterline, listening to the crunch of sand beneath my feet as I scanned the area for my son.

He would be here. He would be fine. We’d go home and laugh about this one day.

I kept repeating that in my head, over and over again, in order to keep my mind from wandering to the darker thoughts that had plagued me on my ride over here. Those words, however, were terminated when I noticed a dark figure collapsed in the distance. As if in disbelief, I started walking faster, gaining speed, until I was almost in a full run. When the darkness gave away to yellow skin and hair, a ghastly screech ripped through the night. I collapsed beside the limp body, not realizing that I was producing the awful noise.

Tears dripped from my chin onto Mithos’ cheek, mixing with the dried blood that had was caked onto his face. My hands twitched beside him, unsure where to touch him. Scanning his body, I could tell that one of his legs was bent at an unnatural angle and his arms didn’t seem quite right. The cause of my anguish, however, stemmed from his eyes. Wide open, his eyes were rolled back into his head revealing the white of his eyes.

Check if he’s breathing.

The thought broke through the shock, and I quickly went to obey the command. His chest was rising and falling, though only slightly, and the air that rushed from his lungs seemed to be ragged and hallow.

“It’s going to be alright,” I whispered instinctively. It was funny how, even though I had no idea if he could hear me or not, I found myself needing to comfort my son, “We’ll get you to the hospital and they’ll fix you up.”

As I scooped his doll-like body into my arms, I realized that perhaps I needed to hear those words more than him.

No one’s laughing at God
When they’ve lost all they’ve got
And they don’t know what for


The hospital didn’t fix Mithos.

Ivy had been the surgeon to operate on him, the only one who even had a chance at saving his life, according to every doctor I spoke to.

But she didn’t.

Not because she didn’t want to, of course. It was simply too late. His wounds were too extensive – his broken ribs had pierced internal organs which lead to internal bleeding which lead to medical terminology I didn’t care to decode. It didn’t matter what medical terminology they used, he had was gone. Faded before his time.

Ivy beat herself up over it. I tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault but I barely had enough energy to get myself out of bed every morning, let alone comfort her. She came over often, cried with Cream in the kitchen for hours until both women looked ready to fade themselves. I often sat in silence and watched, unable to cry. I hadn’t been able to cry since the day he passed.

Besides crying, Cream cut her hair short. Very short and in a style very similar to Mithos’ before he faded. She hardly cooked anymore and we hardly slept in the same bed. She had taken a liking to Mithos’ bed, and slept in it almost every single night. It meant the girls weren’t alone in this time of crisis, which was a good thing.

Pandora was the strongest out of everyone. She kept her head held high and never showed her sadness in public. Even at the small funeral we held for him, she swallowed her sadness and kept a stern face. I wasn’t sure if it was her way of coping or if she was just trying to be the wall she thought she everyone needed.

Estelle might have taken it the hardest. She had always been a quiet child but since the accident she refused to speak. When she needed to communicate something to us she would grab a piece of paper and a pencil before scribbling down everything that she could have just as easily said. That’s right, Estelle was a mute by choice. We had worried that something that happened had night had caused her to lose her ability to speak but she had simply wrote to use that she felt it was better this way.

Why, we didn’t know.

As for myself, I felt like the biggest failure. I often contemplated how we could have avoided this situation and the answer was simple. Freedom. If I had taken Mithos to see the ocean as he had pleaded, he might still be alive. If I hadn’t been so scared of what would happen if we took them outside they wouldn’t have ran away that night. It was my fault. If only I had been there.

But I hadn’t been.

&I had to take every single breath of every single day knowing that was why my son was no longer here – because of me and some hateful Berries.

No one laughs at God on the day they realize
That the last sight they’ll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes
No one’s laughing at God when they’re saying their goodbyes


Color Vote

Hey everyone!

So when I hosted the heir vote I happened to forget a very important part of any rainbowcy.

The color vote for the heir/ess’ spouse!

So here is the generation 2 Heiress, Estelle Spring:

Here are the colors you can vote on:

Light Blue
Dark Blue
Light Green
Dark Gray
Author’s Choice

Pick the top TWO (2) colors of your choice. That’s right. TWO COLORS. ;]

You can vote below or you can vote on the forums here.

All the votes will be tallied at the end.

Thank you for voting. ❤

Generation One

Chapter Eighteen: Well, You’ve Won

Rip the earth in two with your mind

Seal the urge which ensues with brass wires

Time moved sluggishly after the incident with Cephei. I spent every minute of every hour looking over my shoulder, convinced that at any second my freedom would be stripped away and my new dwellings would be inside a cold caged cell. I was well aware that Cephei had all the evidence she needed to convict me of any crime she desired to accuse me of – fornicating with Cream, producing ‘Can You See Me Now’. She had been one of my closest friends and as such had been there to take photographs at every birthday, every holiday. The seer amount of power she held over my future, and my children’s, caused my stomach to whir.

But time eventually did crawl along and the days turned to weeks and the weeks into months with no intrusions on my life. No police breaking down my door in the middle of the night. No thugs accosting me on the street. No reports bugging me about my life – well, no more than usual. I felt a flicker of hope that perhaps Cephei would keep all of my secrets. Even though she refused all my phone calls and stormed out of the house whenever I visited, it would seem that Cephei hadn’t tattled on. At least not yet.

Ivy was convinced that Cephei had no intentions of ratting me out to the police, media or government. Whenever we spoke about the yellow girl, which was often, Ivy would tell me how she was coping. Apparently Cephei had been a sobbing mess for almost three weeks, had called me every sugary name in existence but had never once hinted that she wanted revenge or had planned to unleash hell upon my life. Even under the enormous pressure she was under from the press and riled up individual, Cephei was keeping my secret. She hadn’t cracked.

I never meant you any harm

But your tears feel warm as they fall on my forearm

I wanted to thank her; praise her for being such a good friend even after I had stepped on her heart but I couldn’t. She wouldn’t let me breathe the same air as her anymore, let alone get two words out.

Not everyone was upset about this, however. Cream, for one, had been happy when I told her Cephei wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Cream had been horribly upset over the kiss shared between me and Cephei and had yelled for almost an hour straight when I had come home that night. Luckily, her voice could only take so much abuse before it became hoarse and raw and I was let off the hook soon after. Honestly, Cream hadn’t been yelling at me the whole time though I got more than an earful. She had been more stressed out about the circumstances and the consequences the whole situation could have on not only me and her, but the children.

But close my eyes for a while

Force from the world a patient smile

Some weeks later, I found an opportunity to put my triplets to sleep. It was a rare occasion that had all three of them bouncing around in excitement. They lead me around their bedroom to show me new toys that had been purchased and new drawings that had been made. Finally, after much coaxing, I got all three settled into their respective beds.

“What kind of story do you want to read tonight?” I asked, realizing a second too late how bad of an idea that was.




“Panda, we cannot read a horror story before bed. You know they give Estellise nightmares.” I stated, grabbing a random book off of the shelf.  The three of them were completely different souls – I should have known better than to ask all three of them for their preference on the book. However, it wouldn’t have been fair to ask just one of them and so it was reader’s choice tonight, “How about Alice in Wonderland?” I inquired, looking down at the beat up book in my hands. After a few grumbles and whines, that I ignored, I sat down in the rocking chair next to the bookshelf and began to read.

I had only gotten two pages in when Panda’s voice floated down from above, “Are you and mommy getting a deevorce?”

I blinked, startled into silence. I couldn’t get divorced from Cream – we weren’t even married. Of course, that was something none of the triplets needed to know. At least not while they were still eight-years-old, “Why would you say that?”

Estelle snuggled in closer to her pillow and Mithos propped his head up on one of his arms, shooting a stern look at Pandora who I couldn’t see at the moment, “Because, we heard Mommy yelling about you kissing another girl, Daddy. You shouldn’t kiss other girls.” She chided.

I could help it. I laughed. I was being lectured by my eight-year-old daughter on how to have a healthy relationship, “Oh Panda, I’m not kissing anyone but Mommy, don’t worry. What you heard was mommy being mad because another girl kissed me.”

Estelle let out a deep breath she had been holding, tears welling up in her eyes, “We thought you were gonna go away and never see us again.”

I found my eyebrows furrowing as I closed the book and stood up, gathering my little girl into my arms. I glanced at Mithos, who looked slightly annoyed by this whole conversation, and then to Pandora who was climbing down from the top bunk, “Hey you three, I’m not going anywhere. Even if I was getting a divorce from Mommy, that wouldn’t stop me from seeing you. I love all three of you, don’t you ever forget that.”

Pandora threw herself into my arms and I slowly rocked the two of them. Mithos was still sitting on his bed and I motioned him to join us. He looked torn for a moment, like he didn’t know if he wanted to look weak in front of his little sisters, but eventually he joined us in our cuddle session.

The story was all but forgotten that night.


The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home

If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won

The first time I ever saw a news story on the uprising was on the triplet’s ninth birthday. I had taken to watching the news, perhaps out of paranoia, when a vaguely familiar face showed up on the screen. Mr. Prelude was a young business man from Bubbleport and was currently doing a small interview with one of the local news casters. I thought it was strange that a local news channel from Bubbleport was being aired over here in Sugar Valley but didn’t really pay it much attention. They were asking him popular questions – which football teams he was rooting for, what plans his company had for the future and the normal inquiry of what he thought of the anonymous artist and the hysteria his one sculptor had begun. Apparently the twenty-something was a huge fan of the Bubbleport Eagles and had big plans for the future of the city. However, it was the answer to the final question that caught my attention.

“I am assuming you are referring to ‘Can You See Me Now’.” The reporter nodded his head at Mr. Prelude, “I do not see the problem with it. It is a masterpiece and the idea of Mixed children doesn’t bother me.”

I had been startled at this admission; since it was the first time I had ever heard someone state this opinion – especially on the telly. The reported seemed just astonished as me, his jaw flapping around like a fish out of water. I didn’t get to witness the end of the interview, as I had to go watch my babies grow another year older, but the next day as I met with a potential client it was all anyone was speaking about.

Mr. Prelude’s omission had invigorated a small wave of Berries in his city to speak up. Conspiracy theorist flocked to the idea of Mixed Berries and made public statements both on the web and to any news station that would take them. Their most compelling argument stated that the government would not have put a ban on inter-color marriages if Mixed Berries were nothing more than a myth. They claimed that the Inter-color laws were simply a way of controlling the population. It was slow growing but it was there, based in the city.

To say that this had a negative impact on the public would have been the understatement of the year. As the interview and movement gained steam and views, the outcry grew. Supporters of the Inter-Color Laws soon started their own movement, which acted as a resistance.  The problem was that the resistance acquired support at a rate that made the uprising’s eyes spin. The uprising was vocal but passive, simply stating their opinions and vying for change. One division of the opposition, called ‘The Purist Resistance’, was anything but unruffled by these ideas. They had no qualms letting everyone know it and were far more violent in their endeavors. and With the law on their side they rarely found themselves behind bars.

No one would realize just how violent until a year later.


And you rip it from my hands

And you swear it’s all gone

“You have to send me a picture of them soon.”

I was on the phone with my father, sitting down in some expensive leather chair that was decorating the lavish lobby of some law firm. The women behind the desk kept fluttering her lashes at me, which I thought was highly inappropriate since a ring graced her finger. I ignored her as politely as I could, eyes trained on the television and thoughts on the conversation I was having.

“I will. They’re getting way too big. I just wish you could meet them.” I said, watching as some new reporter droned on about the stock market.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could meet them, too. Talking to them on the phone once a month just doesn’t cut it for the grandpa in me. I want to spoil them rotten.”

I nodded, understanding how he felt to some extent. I wanted to be around my own children twenty-four-seven but reality just wouldn’t allow for it. I chewed on my lips as my father asked how they were doing, “Ah, Panda is as devilish as always. Scaring Estelle at every turn and encouraging Mithos’ new found curiosity. Estelle is still quiet, always afraid of stepping on her brother’s and sister’s toes and well, Mithos’ lately has been insatiable when it comes to learning. Cream says he’s always asking for new books and –“ My voice failed me as the television cut away from the stock market and to a photograph of three children, each around the age of six. Their hair alternated from yellow to white back to yellow and their skin the same. I felt bile rise to the back of my throat and suddenly the secretary that had been fluttering her mascara laden lashes held my full attention.

And you rip out all I have

Just to say that you’ve won, you’ve won

“Turn it up.” I heard my father ask me something, though I wasn’t paying enough attention to catch what he said. The yellow women looked surprised but as I repeated myself, only louder, she quickly began to shuffle through the objects on the counter for, what I assumed would be, a remote control.

“This image was just sent to a member of the Purist Resistance by an anonymous source. It seems to depict three young children who are of a mixed descent. It seems the members of this movement are taking the image seriously and are investigating where it came from. Whether or not the image has been altered in away is yet to be determined.”

“I have to call you back.” I whispered, not really registering whether or not he had heard or responded to be before clicking off the phone.

The ride to the Storm residence was spent with my mind whirling out of control. I didn’t even remember leaving the lobby of the law firm, let alone getting on my bike and driving the hour out of town. I must have moved on autopilot, body automatically moving without my conscious leading the way.

“Cream,” I started hoarsely, watching the love of my life as she turned around at the sound of my voice. Her lips were pulled into a smile, eyes brimming with happiness as she put down the book she had been reading to the children. Her expression dropped, falling at the sight of my own face which must have been contorted with worry.

“What’s the matter?” She whispered, brushing a stray bang out of her eyes.

My eyes feel down to Mithos, Estelle and Panda, who all sat in silence around Cream’s feet. All of them were obviously aware that whatever had me worked up was not good, “Do you three mind going to your room? I need to show Mommy something really important.” I implored, watching as their ten-year-old bodies scrambled to their feet as they silently went to their bedrooms. Once they were out of sight I rummaged around the couch for a moment, flicking on the television. I didn’t even have to turn it to a news channel, as every programming had been interrupted to display the breaking news.

“This just in! Mr. Prelude seems to have been gunned down today in an assassination attempt. Whether or not this is at all connected with the image that had been released just an hour ago is unknown but-”

Cream and I sat in silence, eyes blankly taking in the chaos that was ensuing just a few hours away. The picture of Panda, Mithos and Estelle kept flashing on the screen every few minutes, as if to remind the viewers of the cause of the turmoil.

Well, now you’ve won


A/N: Sorry I went ghost for a little while. I do plan on getting out another chapter on Saturday or Sunday in order to make up for it. Thank you for your support. :]

Song: ‘I Gave You All’ by Mumford and Sons

Generation One

Chapter Seventeen: Can You See Me Now?


I jumped, startled at the sudden interruption in my work. A deep breath calmed my racing heartbeat as I turned to my colorless haired daughter with chisel in hand. A deep frown marred my face as I prepared to lecture my colorless haired daughter. Not because I was annoyed at her interruption but because I had a terrible habit of leaving dangerous tools laying around while I was engrossed in a piece. The scolding died on my lips, however, as her seven-year-old face looked pained and curious at the same time.

“What’s the matter, Panda?” I asked, concerned.

“Why doesn’t anyone on television look like me?”

Out of all the possible questions she could have asked me that was one I was unprepared for. I stood there, mind blank, as Pandora looked up at me with wide eyes. It took me a few moments, in which Pandora squirmed uncomfortably, but I finally managed to reply, “Well, Panda, colorless berries are extremely rare and-”

She shook her head, interrupting me. It was a habit we were trying to break her out of, “No, Mommy already told me that! How come no one on television has different colored eyes? They’re always one color, like you and Mommy and Mema. No one looks like me or Mithos or Estelle.” She whined, clearly upset at this realization.

I let her interruption slide for the moment as her distress pulled at my heartstrings, “Oh, Panda. You’re what, I guess, would be called a Mixed Berry.” I said, kneeling down in front of my daughter to look into her cream colored eyes.

“Why are there no Mixed Berries on the TV?”

“Because, baby, Mixed Berries are even rarer than colorless Berries.” I explained, dodging around the truth. Cream had been home schooling the triplets, which meant they had never read nor learned about the laws of the cruel world we lived in. They also didn’t know that, according to society, their very existence was impossible. The three of them had few interactions with anyone that wasn’t related to them – Ivy and Cephei being the sole exceptions. Occasionally we would take them down to the waterfall to play but either me or Cream would have to watch the roads to make sure no one wandered by and saw the children.

It was taxing, nerve-wrecking and worrisome but more than anything it was unfair to the triplets.

“So, we’re really special, like super hero special?” She asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Yes, exactly like super heroes, Panda. Only don’t try to jump off anything – you can’t fly.” I teased, tapping her nose. She giggled, big smile plastered onto her face.

“Does that mean I’m the mostest special of all, since I’m almost all colorless AND mixed?”

I laughed, knowing I couldn’t agree with her since it would start a war between Estelle, Panda and Mith, “No, baby, all three of you are the same amount of special.”

She pouted, stomping her tiny foot, “But I wanna be the mostest special, Daddy.”

I shook my head at her small tantrum, my fatherly face falling back on, “Panda you know you are all equal in my eyes. Now go back to your room. I have to finish this piece by tomorrow.” My small lecture was followed by her angry huff and crossed arms. I rolled my eyes at her, throwing her over my shoulder like a sack of rice. Her small form vibrated with giggles as I crossed the small hallway that separated my workspace from the triplet’s bedroom. Estelle was wrapped up on her bed with a book in hand while Mithos played on the wooden floors.  Both of them looked up at us as I plopped Pandora onto her brother’s bed.

“Panda!” Mithos exclaimed, clambering up from his piles of toys with his hands on his hips, “Were you bugging dad again?”

Pandora stuck her tongue out at him, “Shut up, you’re icky.”

“Hey!” I yelled, assuming a posture very similar to Mithos’, “You do not tell your brother to shut up nor do we call each other icky! Apologize right now.”

“Yea, apologize!” Mithos echoed.

“I’m sorry,” Pandora sighed begrudgingly. Though it wasn’t honest I already knew it was the best we were going to get out of her.

“Are we all ok in here now?” I asked all three of them.


“I’m fine.”

I looked over at Estellise, who had gone back to reading her fairy tale by now. She always had been quiet when compared to her siblings and rarely liked to burden me or her mother with any of her problems , “Estellise, are you ok?”

She tilted her book back slightly, nodding in my direction with a small smile hanging on her lips, “Yes, Daddy.”

As I shut the door behind me I heard Pandora whisper, “You’re still icky, Mithos.”


It was strange, watching Berries view my work in secret. I had always attended the exhibits that showcased my work as the artist – talking with potential clients and explaining my techniques. For this show, however, I had used a pen name. The anonymous cover it provided for me was needed – or at least that’s what Ivy, Cream and Cephei had all said. They were afraid of how people would react to it. The consequences the artist might face having created such a piece.

The sculpture was innocent enough – a young women carrying her child that was no more than two-years-old. If that had been all I’m sure that no one would have raised an eyebrow at it but that wasn’t the case. No, the color is what made the piece speak volumes. Both mother and child had porcelain white skin, carefully and skillfully engraved in marble. The details etched into the mother’s face screamed injustice, her eyes calling for help to all the patrons that gazed at her. The most startling feature, however, was the child. While her skin matched her mother’s in color, her hair did not. The bright yellow stood in stark contrast to the otherwise lack of color the piece possessed as the child tried to hide away from the world by burying her face in her mother’s neck.

My poor, shy, Estellise.

As far as reactions went, I noticed the overall consensus was negative. Some scoffed at the impossibility of it all – a mixed child. Others were disgusted at the thought of interbreeding Berries and had no qualms letting their fellow viewers in on their feelings. As I wandered around the gallery, taking in other artist’s work that had been put on display, only one piece of art was on anyone’s lips. Mine. Even as they gazed at a beautiful landscape painted by the brilliant Mango-Tango their mind and tongues were fixated on Estellise’s yellow locks and Cream’s anguished eyes. I quickly realized that the sculpture I had named “Can You See Me Now?” had somehow turned into the main attraction, slowly infecting the whole gallery with curiosity, sympathy or anger.

“To even imply such a thing!” A pink women hissed, brushing her hair back, “It is ridiculous, everyone knows Berries can only bred with their own color!”

I eavesdropped shamelessly as I slowly made my rounds, “But wouldn’t it be interesting if it were possible?” Replied the male green berry.

“Or perhaps it is – has anyone ever tried?” Countered the teal female berry.

“Even if Berries of different colors could breed,” another pink Berry started, “They would surely produce inadequate, unintelligent things.”

A soft hand landed on my shoulder, ripping my attention away from the group in front of me and to my best friend, “Maize, we need to leave.” Her hand shook as it left my shoulder, her eyes darting around the gallery in search for an unknown threat.

I frowned, unsure what had gotten under Ivy’s skin, “Calm down. Tell me, what happened?”

She gulped down a few breaths of air, her hands steadying as her eyes finally focused on my face, “Oh, Maize, there are some people here who are in an uproar over that Mixed Berry piece,” She stated vaguely, trying to keep any implications that I was the artist out of her tone and sentence, “They’re threatening the owners and supporters of the exhibit. They want the real name of the sculptor, Maize.”

My head began to pound in time with my racing heart. I mind couldn’t hold onto any solid thought as they all fluttered away as quickly as they had been formed. Finally, as Ivy began to lead me towards the exit, a name resonated in my head, “Cephei.”

“What?” Ivy whispered, trying to remain calm as she slowly herded us through the crowd.

“Cephei, where is she?” I asked louder than before.

Ivy cursed under her breath, arms dropping to her side as we both began to search the visible section of the first floor with our eyes. Moments passed with no glimpse of the yellow berry to be found. “Look, Ivy, get out of here. I’ll find her, you get the car started.” Though the words sounded foreign coming from my mouth – like we were some sort of criminal group getting ready to make a heist – Ivy obeyed with only a second of hesitation.

“Be careful!” She called over her shoulder.

Most of the Berries at the gallery hadn’t caught wind of the threats yet – The socialites and local celebrities stood in semi circles, chatting away in ignorance. I had been doing rounds of the first floor, where the featured artwork had been showcased, and all night I hadn’t noticed the petite yellow woman. Acting on instinct I headed to the second floor, where most of the permanent art was kept on display. It was less congested up there and, as such, much easier to maneuver around the tile floors. The boisterous laughs and thunderous roars of speech died away to whispered conversations and hushed tones. I frowned, following the noise around a corner. I was only able to catch the end of their conversation before the two males came into view.

“Stop playing dumb. Who the hell made that piece of shit.” One hissed through clenched teeth, his face precariously close to her neck as he held her arms hostage over her head.

“I’m telling you. I. Don’t. Know.” She hissed back, turning her face away from his in disgust.

“How do you not know? What, you just let any sad story that crawls on your doorstep with a pretty picture in this place?” The second man bellowed, saliva flying out of his mouth. If Cephei’s face had been scrunched up in disgust before it was now riddled with repulsion.

“I’ve always been a sucker for the underdog.” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable, which did little to calm the two men who were current accosting her. The grey berry drew his fist back with intent of hitting something other than the wall if my hunch was correct.

“Hey!” I shouted, desperate to pull their attention away from Cephei and onto me.

It worked like a charm.

The grey Berry’s fist dropped to his side as both their heads turned in my direction.

“Who in Banana Sundae do you think you are?”

I shrugged, somehow smiling despite the situation.

“You better just turn around and forget you ever saw us.” The Grey Berry threatened.

“If the lady said she doesn’t know who it was then she doesn’t know. You’d be better off threatening someone who does.”

“Oh, like who?”

I almost said me but Cephei started speaking before I had the chance to, eyes silently pleading with me not too disagree, “I think you can figure that out yourself, boys.”

They muttered a few incomprehensible sentences before pushing Cephei away from them, brushing past me with a small shove. As soon as the two were out of sight Cephei threw herself into my arms, crying softly into my suit jacket.

“Thank you so much, Maize. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come and saved me!”

I smiled, gently rubbing her back as she hiccupped a few times. We stood like that for a few moments, her sobbing in fear and me trying to sooth her to the best of my abilities. When she finally looked up at me, mascara running, I noticed that her lips were mere inches from mine. I was in the process of unwrapping my arms from her waist when her lips crashed against mine. Her lips followed mine as I attempted to pull away from her, trying to create space between of us that she wouldn’t allow to exist.

Eventually my backwards shuffle was halted by the cool concrete walls behind us and I was trapped in her embrace. The mere seconds that her lips caressed mine felt like decades of betrayal crashing down on my shoulders, and when we finally parted it did nothing to stop the heaviness of my heart.

“Cephei, I-“

Her finger silenced me and she cocked her head to the side with hooded eyes, “I’ve been dying to do that for years.” She whispered hoarsely.

I put my hands up, shaking my head, “Cephei, I don’t know what you think is going on between us but you’re just my friend.”

She blinked, confusion glazing her eyes, “But all those rumors, you always encouraged them and I… I thought…”

“Cephei,” I sighed, trying my best to handle the situation delicately. She had to be in a bad place right now, “the rumors were convenient – nothing more. They took the heat off of me and off of Cream. I’m sorry.” I offered lamely.

Despite my efforts I must have hit a soft spot, as her eyes suddenly hardened, small fists clenched at her sides, “I did everything for you! I’m the only reason you even have a career! I could have died keeping your identity a secret!” She screamed, poking my chest violently. I stood quietly as she ranted, “You used me!”

I could have defended myself but I didn’t really see the point. Instead I allowed her to run off in tears, knowing that Ivy would be waiting for her downstairs. What she needed right now was to be alone – or at the very least be away from me.



Ok, so I started a simblr for this rainbowcy.

You can find it over here:

It going to be filled with just… well.. my sims from this rainbowcy.

Crackships, future spouses, side stories, updates with the spares and chapter update notices :].

As well with any puffs I do or poses I make or anything else I end up dabbling it.

They’ll all be posted there.


So follow me if you have tumblr! I’ll follow back.

Generation One

Chapter Sixteen: Paparazzi

AN: Estelle won the heir vote with a twenty point lead. :]

Also, if any of the images are broken or something I apologize. I tried really hard to deal with photobucket but in the end gave up.

If Maize or any of the other regulars (Cream/Ivy) look different, it’s just skin CC I added to my game. :]

Do you know how horrible it is to be unable to see your own children on a daily basis? Not because you’re an unfit father or some failed attempt to get full custody of them in a nasty divorce case. Not because you don’t get along with their mother or any other fault of your own. No. It’s simply because visiting them on daily basis would attract too much attention.

I did.

I shot the dirtiest look I could muster at the young reporter that had been tailing me for the last hour, tapping my foot impatiently as I waited for the crosswalk signal to turn white. The minute the red hand switched to the familiar walker sign I was off. Darting across the street, I glanced behind me and caught a glimpse of the young red berry chasing after me.

Sometimes I really regretted taking Cephei up on her offer to showcase my work at her father’s gallery.

Keeping a steady pace, I turned down the familiar residential road as the late October air cooled my heated skin. I spared one more glance over my shoulder as I passed the fourth house down the cozy little street, realizing that the fire colored reporter was pretty far behind me by now. I slowed in front of an olive colored house, turning to the driveway and expertly plucking a seemingly random rock up from the yard. Under it a small key glimmered at me as I snatched it up and jogged up to the front door. It only took a second for me to unlock the door, slam it shut behind me and relock it.

Stifled laughter erupted from behind me, “Hiding from the paparazzi again?”

I frowned at Ivy, shaking my head at the newly hired EMT, “They don’t know when to stop. It’s not even like I’m famous, I’ve only done like five commissioned pieces.” I whined, throwing myself half onto her couch half onto her floor. It was becoming more work than it was worth, really. For the last six months I had been followed at least twice a week for my new found celebrity status. It made sneaking over to the Storm residence exceptionally hard which, in turn, made seeing my children extremely hard.

“Two of those to the biggest companies in Brioport.” Ivy pointed out as she plopped herself down beside me. Hiding out in Ivy and Cephei’s house had become my routine over the past few weeks. Whenever I found myself being followed in Sugar Valley I always made a beeline to the one household I could trust. It really was an amazing diversion anyways, since Cephei was yellow. It fooled the papers and magazines into believing that I was somehow romantically involved with Cephei – which wasn’t true. Our relationship was completely platonic – not that the papers cared about that. They cared way too much about ratings and sales to worry about facts and it was far too convenient for me to correct.

“Trust me, I regret it. Think it’s too early to retire?” I said with a small smile, looking up at Ivy with hooded eyes.

She shook her head, laughing a little, “Twenty-one is a little young, don’t you think?”

“Pssssh, I feel a lot older than twenty-one.”

“You do have three adorable babies at home. Speaking of which, are you ready for their birthday tonight?” Ivy asked, eyes wandering to the clock hanging on the light green walls. I nodded in response even though I really wasn’t prepared for my babies to become toddlers at all. I felt like I had missed so much of their lives already. My chest ached whenever I really thought about it. My father had tucked me into bed every single night. I was lucky if I got to see my own children twice a week, let alone put them to sleep at night.

“Well, I guess I better grab a blanket to hide you under.” Ivy stated with a small laugh. We both thought it was slightly ridiculous that I had to be snuck out of the neighborhood in her van, blanket over my head, in order to escape the reporter that was probably lurking outside her house at that very moment.


We left as soon as Cephei got home from the gallery. She had brightly announced that two more of my pieces had sold for amounts in the triple digits – which was good for my pocket but bad for my celebrity status.  After a quick change of clothes and some small talk I was stored under a blanket in the light green van, hidden from any prying eyes that might try to peer into the backseat.

The moment we arrived at my second home, the home that had captured my heart, I bolted out of the vehicle like a child on Christmas. It was through the front door in the blink of an eye. Cream must have noticed our headlights when we pulled in because she threw herself into my arms the moment I stepped inside. Tangling my fingers up in her hair, I planted kiss after kiss on her lips, nose and forehead.

“Get a room.” Ivy said jokingly, walking past both of us with her arms full of boxed cakes. Cephei followed behind her singing, “Maize and Cream sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” They both were so immature at times.

Laughing, I parted from Cream, “So where are birthday girls and boy?”

Cream gestured behind her to the balloon filled and ribbon saturated kitchen. The small room area was filled with colorful party decorations as Ivy and Cephei began setting up the three different cakes onto the table. I joined the duo hand-in-hand with Cream, lighting up at the sight of my babies. I snatched my youngest, Estellise, into my arms and snuggled her small frame. I felt like she had just been born yesterday, it was hard to believe she was about to transition into a toddler.

Cream cradled Mithos, my first born and only son, into her arms as Ivy picked up Pandora. Cephei yanked out the candles and rigged one into each cake with a devilish smile, lighting up the first one with a happy exclamation, “Come on! Let’s get this party started!”

After a few chuckles, Cream stepped in front of the lit cake. Since Mithos was technically the oldest, though only by a minute or so, we had decided that he should be the first to take this step in life. Her eyebrows scrunched up in deep thought and I realized she was trying to make a wish for him. After a few moments, Cephei elbowed her gently and Cream blew out the candle.  I might be bias, since he was my own child, but I could confidently say that Mithos was the most handsome toddler I had ever laid eyes on before.

We proceeded in the order of birth, Pandora blowing out her candle second – with the help of Ivy, of course. Unlike Cream, it appeared Ivy already knew what wish she wanted to bestow upon Panda as she swiftly and effectively blew out the candles without hesitation.

That left me with Estellise. I hadn’t prepared for this moment and didn’t know what wish I should make for my youngest daughter. I made my way over to the cake slowly, watching as Cephei lighted the last cake of the evening, wishing I had a clue as to what the two females before me had wished. I did not want to be selfish, as it was not my wish to steal. So as I bent down and blew out the candle, I wished for Estellise to be accepted. It was a long shot, with her white skin and yellow hair and eyes. She was the most obvious Mixed Berry out of my children and, as such, would need the most luck in the future.


It was almost two weeks later when I finally got to see my children again. Between work and being harassed almost daily, I was finding it harder and harder to spend quality time with them. I sat in the middle of their nursery, watching them crawl around and play with toys. Occasionally they would crawl over to me and babble in their little baby talk, ramming a toy or two into my side before they went back to ramming them into each other. It was quite adorable, really.

Mithos was making his way over to me with a rocket in hand. Staring up at me with his large purple eyes, he began to babble while waving around his prize like a flag, “Eos aba tol!”

I nodded, smiling at my son, “Yes, that is a fine looking spaceship you’ve got there.”

He gurgled happily as he continued on in his speech until eventually he was forcing the toy into my own hand. I blinked a few time, unsure what to do with it, before I began to make rocket noises and wave it around in the air almost as haphazardly as he had been. Mithos clapped in response, giggling as I rammed the rocket into his leg.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Pandora and Estellise, however, and soon both of the girls were thrusting their own toys into my face, trying to get me to play with them. I laughed, cooing to them softly, “Ah, there’s plenty of time for all of you. Just one moment.”

I put down Mithos’ rocket and picked up Pandora’s toy, making my best girly impression. Which, in all honesty, was probably terrible. I had no idea how to play with dolls. She didn’t seem to care though, as she clapped along and giggled, gibbering cheerful noises at me.

I had just picked up Estellise’s  toy when Mithos’ threw his spaceship out of frustration. Though I did not think he meant to, it hit Estellise square in the eye. Her bright yellow eyes filled with tears as I scooped her up in my arms and sent a stern glare at my son, “Mithos! No! We do not throw things!” I chided, repeating what I had seen Cream do in similar circumstances.

At my raised voice his purple orbs filled with tears as he threw himself onto the ground in tears. I frowned, unsure how to react. On cue, Pandora chimed in with her siblings wails and soon the whole house was echoing with the sounds of screaming toddlers.

I had the undeniable urge to cover my ears from the earsplitting chorus they were emitting but couldn’t since my hands were currently preoccupied with Estellise.

“What happened?” Cream asked incredulously, dawning her pajamas as I had been watching the triplet’s so she could catch up on some much needed sleep.

“We were playing and then Mithos. He threw his toy and hit Estelle. She cried so I yelled and then he cried and I don’t even know why Panda is crying. Oh god, make it stop!” I whined, bouncing Estellise on my hip to try to calm her.

She sighed at me, shaking her head as she swept Mithos off the floor and put him in his crib. His sobbing subsided but his lips were pulled into a solid frown as his yellow hair fell into his eyes.

“You are supposed to protect your sisters, not hurt them, Mithos. Time out.” She said sternly. His little lip started to quiver but she raised one finger followed by a stern look and he stopped his crying completely, “Put Estelle in the swing. It always calms her down.” She said calmly as she swung Pandora up into her arms – which completely eliminated another set of cries.

Once Estelle was settled into her swing her cries subsided and suddenly I had a new found respect for Cream. I had no idea how she dealt with all three of them by herself every single day I wasn’t around. I’m sure I would have gone crazy by now but she seemed calm despite the bags under her bright eyes.

“I’m going back to bed.” She whispered, kissing my cheek softly.

I nodded, grinning sheepishly, “I’m sorry.” She shook her head and laughed at me as she turned back to head down the hallway.


I froze, as did Cream. She spun around and stared at the yellowed haired girl in the swing with the same bewildered look I wore.

“Did she just say Dada?” Cream asked.

“I think so….” I knelt down in front of the swing, huge smile plastered on my face as my heart burst with pride, “Can you say Dada?” I asked. She blinked up at me, chewing on her hand silently.

“It’s ok. When Pandora said her first word she didn’t repeat it right away, either.” Cream warned, sad smile on her lips. I had missed Pandora’s first word, which was Mama and had happened about a week ago. I could not express my excitement at being present for Estellise’s. Not to mention it had been Dada, even though I was rarely around her.

It didn’t take long for the excitement to turn to anger. I had gotten to be around for Estellise’s first word but what about her first step? Would I be there to see any of my children attempt to walk, to form their first sentence? Would I be around when they lost their first tooth? Read their first word?

As I thought about all the experiences I could miss out on the anger turned to rage. I would not just stand by and allow society to influence my presence in these children’s life. It wasn’t fair.

That moment would prove to be the inspiration for my most controversial piece ever.