Author's Note:
Personas – Fantastical is came about from an unexpected place. It is a work of speculative fiction inspired by the idea that identity is not singular, but layered.
Recently, I found myself becoming interested in David Bowie. I had always known of him, mostly through songs like Let’s Dance, but as I explored more of his music, artistry, and the personas he created, I became captivated. Like many others, I saw that Bowie was a uniquely creative individual. In him, I saw reflections of myself and that inspired me to look inward and name the personas I carry: The Dreamer, The Shy Girl, The Hidden Rebel, and Madame Unique.
This story became an imaginative adventure of pairing off my personas with his. (For clarity: The Aristocrat refers to Bowie’s persona, The Thin White Duke.)
The pairing of them draws from Bowie’s creative legacy—not as direct representations, but as symbolic companions. The result is a narrative about love that recognizes across time, rebellion that can be both loud and quiet, creativity as resistance, and faith that persists even without clear answers.
I deeply enjoyed writing this story. Not only did I learn more about David Bowie. I learned more about myself.
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The Song of the Dreamer and the Star (The Dreamer and the Alien)
Vassandra stood by the window, gazing at the sky—its otherworldly colors shifting second by second. Within minutes, it would be night. She turned her attention back to the book in her hand and read a passage from it. The words spoke not of peace for the entirety of the Human World, but of peace within oneself: to be at peace with all things, good and bad, and to have faith in the eternal presence of the Creator.
She returned the book to its place and then looked over the many others lining the shelves.
The Scriptoria Etheria—the celestial library—was also Vassandra’s home. Every day, she walked through its halls and endless aisles of books. So many books… many written by humans—mythic narratives, philosophical ideas, real-world accounts, and so much more. Among them were the rarest volumes of all: books written by the Creator. Such works were unknown to humans, with the exception of one that had been printed and reprinted into countless languages and texts.
And yet, that very book caused so much confusion, for humans read it without an open heart or mind.
Night had fallen, and Vassandra wandered through the halls when she suddenly saw a streak of light heading straight toward the Scriptoria Etheria. She raced downstairs and threw open the gates at the entrance. Judging by the speed of the approaching light, she feared that whatever it was would be damaged upon colliding with the steel wall. Thankfully, she summoned a mass of exceedingly soft pillows, which materialized against it.
The light came in fast. Vassandra took cover in the corner of the entrance as the building shook slightly when whatever struck the pillows and wall finally landed.
She peeked out and saw a humanoid form lying atop the pillows. Carefully, she approached and looked down. Her eyes widened in surprise.
Before her very eyes… Ziggy Stardust lay before her.
✨✨✨✨
Ziggy opened his eyes slowly, blinking as his vision came into focus. Standing over him was a woman—lovely, with smooth, flawless skin the color of light bronze and ivory. Her hair was the shade of dark wood, threaded with hints of sunlight. Her eyes, warm brown, were filled with curiosity and concern. Her figure was fuller yet shapely, and her iridescent, ankle-length dress shimmered softly in the moonlight.
When he spoke, the words came out in a language he assumed would be unfamiliar to her—until—
“I know who you are, Ziggy Stardust,” she said with a gentle smile.
“How?” he asked.
She raised an eyebrow.
“All the universe knows of you,” she replied. “The musical Cosmic Walker.”
“You know of me, but I know nothing of you,” he said.
“I am Vassandra—Keeper of the Scriptoria Etheria,” she replied.
Ziggy’s eyes widened.
“You are the Keeper of the Scriptoria Etheria?” he asked.
“What—or who—were you expecting the Keeper to be?” she asked. Her tone revealed not offense, but curiosity.
“I don’t know. I suppose I wasn’t expecting a stunning angel,” he said with a smile.
Vassandra chuckled softly as she returned his smile.
“You are quite the flatterer, Ziggy,” she said, extending her hand to him.
He took it and slowly rose to his feet, but dizziness washed over him.
Vassandra steadied him.
“You arrived quite fast, Ziggy. Your head is going to be spinning for a while,” she said.
Just then, a bright light enveloped them both, and they vanished from the entrance.
They reappeared inside a small bedroom. Vassandra guided Ziggy to the bed and helped him lay down.
“I suppose I did come in too fast,” he said.
“That you did,” Vassandra replied. “Rest. I’ll bring you food and water.”
“Thank you, Vassandra,” he said, attempting to sit up —only to realize his head was still spinning.
“Ziggy, even cosmic beings such as yourself are not immune to injury,” she said gently.
“So I’ve realized,” he replied with a hint of humor.
Vassandra smiled. “I’ll be back with food and water,” she said, then exited the room.
“Dear Creator… what now?” he murmured.
But there was no answer—at least, not for now.
II
As Ziggy recovered, he explored Scriptoria Etheria. He became fascinated by all of the books—especially those written by the Creator. He longed to read the Creator’s words, not only because he craved the knowledge, but because he felt deeply drawn to Earth.
For so long, he had been sensing Earth’s pain—the injustices, the division, the prejudices. He wanted to bring a message of peace and unity.
Vassandra read Ziggy’s mind and, seeing what he was thinking, spoke up.
“Ziggy,” Vassandra said.
“Yes?” he answered.
“You must understand something. The world—the human world. They will not accept you. In fact, the moment you arrive, you will be perceived as what humans call ‘weird’ or ‘strange.’ To me, you are none of those,” she said.
Ziggy saw the way she looked at him—not with adoration, but with love and genuine concern.
He closed the book he had been reading and walked toward her.
“Tell me, Dreamer… what dreams do you have?” he asked.
“My dreams are written inside my personal book. It’s not a memoir—just a collection of ideas and hopes. I do not know if they will ever come to pass. But I am allowed to dream. It is why I am the Dreamer,” she said.
Ziggy took her hand and kissed it. Then he leaned in and softly kissed her lips. Vassandra returned the kiss.
“I leave soon for Earth. Tell me, Dreamer… what do you see?” he asked.
“Should you leave, those on Earth will destroy you. You will be remembered, but you will no longer walk among them. Should you choose to stay here, you will be able to read every book that has been written—and those yet to be written. But no one will know your name. Only I, and those of the Universe, will know of you,” she said.
Ziggy took her hands and kissed them.
They looked into each other’s eyes. They both knew what Ziggy had decided.
✨✨✨✨
He boarded a spaceship, gifted to him by the inhabitants of a nearby planet. He looked at Vassandra one last time.
“Will you remember me?” he asked.
“I will always remember you, Ziggy Stardust—as will the Universe,” she said.
He stepped off the spaceship and kissed her hand one last time—then kissed her passionately.
When he finally broke the kiss, he boarded the ship, which soon zoomed off into the galaxy.
“He will be remembered, Vassandra,” the Creator said.
“I know, Creator. I know,” she replied.
✨✨✨✨
Ziggy Stardust landed on Earth in 1972. Some looked at him strangely. Others looked at him in awe.
He became a famous musician—known worldwide. He spread his message of hope and prophecy. However, the fame he achieved ultimately doomed him, and he fell from grace.
It is night. Ziggy is inside his spaceship. He lies within his sleep chamber, gazing up at the stars through the skylight. His body and soul are weary as his mind wanders back to the words Vassandra spoke before he left Scriptoria Etheria.
“Those on Earth will destroy you. You will be remembered, but you will no longer walk among them.”
My lovely Dreamer, Vassandra. Your words were true. Yet I feel this was part of the Creator’s plan. I only hope that I will see you again,” he said softly.
Ziggy closed his eyes, and that night… his cosmic soul left his body.
✨✨✨✨
Vassandra continued her duties as the Keeper of Scriptoria Etheria. Yet she sensed that change was coming. Turning toward the window, she saw a brilliant light approaching—and she smiled.
“Ziggy!” she said.
The light struck the highest floor of Scriptoria Etheria. Though the structure itself remained unharmed, Vassandra was no longer there. She was dreaming elsewhere…
The change had happened.
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The Hollow and the Heart(The Aristocrat and the Shy Girl)
“Morning, AstroDyne City — Monday, February 20th, 2124. 7:30 a.m. The temperature right now is 43 degrees, so make sure that you are dressed warmly as you head to work.”
Evalena’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of AstroDyne City’s holographic timekeeper—an invention she found increasingly irritating with each passing day. She rubbed her eyes and reluctantly sat up, gazing out the window at the holographic projection flickering in the early morning light. The automated voice droned on about mundane topics.
“That damn holographic timekeeper is so irritating,” she muttered, swinging her legs out of bed.
She stumbled into the bathroom, where the sterile, cold light did nothing to improve her mood. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she felt marginally more human. She headed to the kitchen, the quiet of her unit weighing heavily on her. Pouring herself a bowl of cereal, she slumped into a chair at the small round table. The silence was deafening.
“Zana, turn on music… station 107.3 JZMUSC,” she said to the voice-activated system embedded in her apartment.
“Complying… 107.3 JZMUSC now playing,” the automated voice responded.
As smooth jazz filled the room, Evalena felt a pang of loneliness that had become all too familiar.
She finished her breakfast in silence, the music doing little to lift her spirits. After rinsing her bowl and spoon and placing them in the small dishwasher, she trudged back to her bedroom to get ready for work. The day ahead loomed large—another monotonous cycle in the seemingly endless loop of her life. She sighed deeply, bracing herself for another day in AstroDyne City.
She dressed for work—a Code Filer for PrimarTech—and paused in front of the mirror. Lovely brown eyes. Chin-length dark brown hair streaked with sandy highlights. A medium golden-brown complexion and a curvaceous yet sleek plus-size figure. She fastened the dark gray and red side-button jacket over a short-sleeved white blouse, paired with a dark gray knee-length skirt. Slipping on a pair of low-heeled shoes with ankle straps, she gave herself one last look.
Taking a breath, she smiled.
“You look good, Evalena. Just have a good day,” she said softly.
Grabbing her heavy coat and tote bag, Evalena headed out.
♦♦♦♦
Lex Starling sat comfortably as the limousine glided through the streets of AstroDyne City. He observed the world through the darkly tinted window. To the outside eye, Lex was tall and handsome, with blond hair and a medium fair complexion. Tinted, round-framed shades concealed his eyes. He was impeccably dressed in a black suit, white button-down shirt, black tie, and polished black shoes—every inch the stoic, elite businessman.
But inside, he was hollow. Empty of emotion.
He looked at the world and felt nothing.
The limousine pulled into the parking garage of PrimarTech. When it came to a stop, the driver stepped out and made his way to the rear, opening the door.
“Would you like me to wait for you, Mr. Starling?” the driver asked.
“Yes, Gordon. I’ll only be inside for twenty minutes,” Lex replied.
“Yes, sir,” Gordon said, closing the door as he watched Lex enter the building.
♦♦♦♦
PrimarTech was a seven-story building, and Lex Starling was one of its many CEOs. He traveled from floor to floor, observing each division in turn. While he was speaking with one of the division managers, an employee caught his eye.
She was a lovely woman of average height. There was something about her—her full yet shapely figure, her flawless complexion, her hair… he couldn’t quite place it. Whatever it was, it tugged at him, stirring a curiosity he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Who is that?” he asked the division manager beside him.
She glanced over and shrugged.
“I’m not sure, Mr. Starling. She might be one of the Code Filers,” she said.
Lex excused himself and walked away from the manager, making his way toward the employee.
The woman was focused, busy implementing code into one of the terminals.
“Hello,” he said.
She looked up.
“Hello,” she replied.
Lex glanced at her employee badge.
“Evalena Chane,” he read aloud. “A beautiful name.”
“Thank you,” she said, a touch of nervousness in her voice.
“I’m Lex Starling—one of the CEOs of PrimarTech,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Starling,” Evalena said, smiling nervously.
“What division do you work in?” Lex asked.
“Division Five—Code Filer,” Evalena replied.
Lex looked Evalena up and down, a small smile forming on his face.
“It was lovely meeting you, Evalena,” he said before walking away. He rejoined the division manager, and together they continued their walk around the fifth floor. Yet Lex found he could no longer focus on what the manager was saying. Evalena Chane lingered in his thoughts.
Twenty minutes later, Lex exited the building. Gordon was waiting and opened the limousine door for him.
“Where to now, sir?” Gordon asked.
“Home,” Lex said as he stepped inside.
“Yes, sir,” Gordon replied, closing the door before hurrying to the driver’s side.
As the limousine pulled out of the parking garage, Lex felt something stir within him—something he hadn’t felt before. It was faint, but unmistakable.
“What is this feeling?” he asked himself.
II
At 5:00 p.m., Evalena and the other employees filed out of PrimarTech, heading home for the day.
As Evalena made her way to the city transit train, she found herself thinking about Lex Starling. He was undeniably handsome, yet there was something about him that felt… empty. Cold. The thought unsettled her. Sitting on the train, her mind wandered, drifting from one thought to another, until it circled back to him.
“Mr. Lex Starling,” she murmured softly, “what is it about you that’s clinging to me?”
When she arrived home, she changed out of her uniform, shedding the rest of her clothes before stepping into the shower. Afterward, she dried off, slipped into comfortable underwear, a lounge bra, and an oversized white-and-pink shirt. She turned on the TV and went to the kitchen to make herself some dinner. Despite her efforts to focus, Lex Starling crept back into her thoughts.
“Why is this man haunting me? I just met him,” Evalena muttered, slightly annoyed.
Suddenly, a shiver ran down her spine, and she shuddered. A feeling of anticipation washed over her, followed by an unexpected calm. The wave of unfamiliar sensations left her disoriented, and she had to stand still for a moment until her thoughts settled.
“What was that about?” she asked herself.
A sound from the television caught her attention, and she walked into the living room.
On the screen was Sharelle Fabulous, the local reporter known for covering AstroDyne City’s nightlife.
“In other news—downtown AstroDyne City will soon welcome the grand opening of a brand-new club. Its name: *Velvet Vortex.* Hosting the event is Lex Starling, one of AstroDyne City’s most eligible and wealthy bachelors. The date is this Friday. Doors open at 7:00 p.m., and those with special invitations from the host will be able to skip the line. Of course, moi will be there. See you all Friday!”
“Turn down the volume,” Evalena said to the apartment’s AI.
“Turning down the television volume,” the AI replied.
“Another club… as if AstroDyne City needs one more,” she said, shaking her head as she returned to the kitchen to continue making dinner. “Oh well. It is what it is.”
She paused, then quietly added, “Dear God, about those unusual feelings I had—whatever they were, please let them be about something positive. Thank you. Amen.”
♦♦♦♦
Lex stood by the sliding glass door of his penthouse apartment.
He gazed up at the night sky, staring at the moon shining too brightly overhead. Lowering his eyes, he looked out over the city lights below. There was nothing new about the view. It was the same scene he had witnessed countless times—the same lights, the same noise. It meant nothing to him. Beautiful, yes, but hollow… just like him.
He placed a hand against the glass, studying his reflection. He was undeniably handsome, yet something inside him was missing. A part of him wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He was too empty for tears. Just then, thoughts of Evalena Chane drifted into his mind. There was something about her—something in her eyes that spoke of warmth and kindness.
Turning away from the glass, he crossed the room to his desk and opened his laptop.
He accessed PrimarTech’s employee records and searched for Evalena’s name. Once he found her file, he pulled up her address. Grabbing his phone, he made a call.
“Yes, Virgil. I have someone I’d like you to send a special invitation to Velvet Vortex. Her name is Evalena Chane, and here is her address,” Lex said, reciting the details. When the call ended, he set the phone down gently on the desk.
“What is it about you, Evalena Chane, that has me so fascinated?” Lex murmured to himself.
A faint smile touched his lips.
“We’ll find out Friday night.”
III
By Friday afternoon, Evalena and her fellow coworkers were already counting down to 5:00 p.m.
The day had been a rough one. Evalena arrived five minutes late due to a delayed transit train. To make up for it, she worked through lunch until her supervisor insisted she take a break. As if that weren’t bad enough, the terminals used by the Code Filers began malfunctioning. As a result, codes had to be printed onto multiple sheets of paper and manually scanned into the database.
When Evalena glanced at the clock, it read 4:54 p.m.
“Five o’clock can’t come fast enough,” she muttered, seated at her kiosk as she reviewed the remaining incoming codes.
Suddenly, the entire system went down.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Evalena exclaimed, pressing her palm to her face.
Her coworkers groaned in unison. Moments later, their supervisor stepped out of his office.
“Everyone, I’ve got bad news and good news,” he announced. “Bad news—the system will be down for the rest of the day. Hopefully, everything will be up and running by Monday. The good news? You’re all free to leave. Have a great weekend, everyone!”
“AMEN!” someone shouted from across the room.
Evalena laughed softly as she and her coworkers gathered their belongings and headed out.
Later, as Evalena sat on the transit train, a strange feeling nagged at her—a sense that the system outage might have been something… supernatural. The thought should have sounded ridiculous, yet it didn’t feel that way to her. She gazed up at the sky as the day slowly faded into dusk.
“Yahweh,” she murmured with a faint grin, “what are you up to?”
Evalena was unusual in how she approached her faith. While she believed in prayer, she kept it simple. Though she didn’t read the Bible daily, there were passages she held close to her heart. She experienced the world through her emotions—seeing both the divine and the infernal—and she knew this sensitivity was a gift Yahweh had given her.
But it was a gift she understood had to be protected.
Something to be shared only with someone she could trust—someone who would truly understand.
So Evalena kept it to herself.
When she got home, Evalena fell into her usual routine. After changing into a dark gray top and white sweatpants, she decided to check her email—something she normally saved for after dinner.
She picked up her phone and opened the email app. As she scrolled, one subject line caught her attention: Special Invite. Curious, she opened it and discovered an invitation to Velvet Vortex. According to the message, Lex Starling himself had invited her.
Evalena was puzzled.
“Why would Lex Starling invite me to the grand opening of Velvet Vortex?” she asked herself.
The question spun through her mind, refusing to settle. It didn’t make sense—none of it did. And yet, her curiosity stirred, accompanied by a persistent feeling urging her to simply go.
♦♦♦♦
Evalena’s nerves fluttered as the Uber pulled up in front of Velvet Vortex. She thanked the driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
She looked stunning in an off-the-shoulder, deep red dress she had tucked away in the back of her closet. She’d only worn it once—and never again until tonight. Her heart pounded as she approached the front of the line.
“Can I help you?” a doorman asked, his tone arrogant.
Evalena pulled out her phone and showed him the invitation.
He scoffed and waved her off.
“Excuse me,” she said firmly. “This invitation is legitimate.”
“And I’m from Mars. Now get lost,” he snapped.
Not wanting to cause a scene, Evalena turned and walked away.
“Excuse me!” someone called out.
She turned to see another doorman approaching her.
“May I see the invitation?” he asked politely.
Evalena pulled it up on her phone. He scanned it with a handheld device, which immediately confirmed its authenticity.
“Miss, I apologize for Roger,” he said. “He’s an overzealous idiot. He was informed that Lex Starling sent out invitations and that all of them must be scanned for verification. Unfortunately, he hasn’t been scanning any and has simply been letting people in who claim they were invited.”
“Well, someone should inform him that scanning is part of the job,” Evalena replied dryly.
“I’ll make sure of it. Please, follow me,” the doorman said.
“Thank you, Mr…?”
“Germain,” he answered.
Germain escorted Evalena to the entrance and opened the door for her. Roger, the other doorman, shot Germain a dirty look.
“She has a legitimate invitation from Lex Starling,” Germain said coolly. “You would have known that if you had actually scanned it.”
Roger looked Evalena up and down, then rolled his eyes.
“This is coming from the man who let two already drunk women into the club—women I had to escort out,” Germain added, maintaining his cold stare.
Roger gulped. He knew exactly what that look meant.
“For tonight… no, for every night from now on,” Germain continued, “use the brain God gave you. When you’re told to do something, do it.”
Roger nodded nervously.
Evalena held back a laugh out of respect, though others nearby weren’t quite so restrained.
♦♦♦♦
Velvet Vortex was a unique, two-story club styled to reflect the dance scene of the late 1970s and early 1980s. Flashing lights pulsed across the space, a disco ball spun overhead, and rich velvet draped nearly every surface—except for the dance floor.
Germain escorted Evalena up to the second floor, where Lex Starling sat in a booth surrounded by guests. Her nerves stirred.
“Mr. Starling, another one of your guests has arrived,” Germain announced.
Lex looked up and met Evalena’s gaze.
“Thank you, Germain,” he said. Then, without missing a beat, he added, “By the way, tell Mr. Marx to keep Miss Sharelle Fabulous away from me. I have no interest in speaking with her or giving an interview.”
Evalena raised an eyebrow. She could understand not wanting to be bothered by Sharelle Fabulous—the woman was loud, conceited, and intrusive. What unsettled her was the cold edge in Lex’s voice.
“I’ll inform him, Mr. Starling,” Germain replied before walking away.
Evalena slid into the booth, finding herself seated next to a gentleman wearing a bright orange suit paired with a black button-down shirt. None of Lex Starling’s other guests acknowledged her, despite her polite greetings.
It was going to be a long night.
♦♦♦♦
All through the night, Evalena mingled with other clubgoers and even bought herself a drink. Yet not once did she speak to Lex Starling or to any of his other guests.
Now seated alone at an empty table, Evalena nursed her rum and cola.
“What am I doing here?” she murmured to herself.
“May I sit with you?”
She looked up to see Lex Starling standing there.
“Sure,” she said.
Lex pulled out a chair and sat across from her. Evalena’s gaze drifted over him. He was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit with a matching vest and a light gray button-down shirt, open at the collar.
“Like what you see?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Evalena smiled faintly.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“Somewhat,” she replied.
“Why ‘somewhat’?”
“I’m not really into nightclubs. I’m quite the introvert, actually,” she said.
“So what does interest you?” Lex asked.
“Books and music,” Evalena answered. “I like reading about different things. I love music because I can lose myself in the melody—and even the lyrics. I enjoy disappearing into worlds of my own imagination. I like being around people who understand that. And whenever I get the chance, I like looking up at the moon and the stars.” She paused, then added softly, “Most people would probably consider that uncool.”
Lex studied her for a moment.
“I find it interesting,” he said. “What kind of books do you read?”
“Ancient history and folklore. Astrology and astronomy. Books about unusual things—like what names might mean, what gemstones symbolize, and different views on how the world came into existence. I enjoy learning about people who made small yet significant contributions to history,” she said.
Lex sat in silence, his expression unreadable. Evalena couldn’t tell whether he was genuinely interested or merely pretending.
“I know,” she added, “I’m a boring person.”
“I don’t think you’re boring,” he said. “I think you see the world in a way not many people can understand.”
“Well, is it boring to you?” Evalena asked bluntly, surprising herself with the directness of the question.
Lex smiled faintly. “No. I don’t think it’s boring at all. I find it fascinating—and I’d like to learn more about you.”
“I might disappoint you,” she said.
“Why do you think that?” he asked.
“Experience,” she replied.
“I’ve experienced a great deal in my life,” Lex continued. “I’ve traveled the world, met all kinds of people, dined in the finest restaurants, stayed in the most unique and exquisite hotels, and done things that would make most people either blush or cringe. I’ve practically done it all.” He paused. “But it was all just for show. It means nothing to me.”
Evalena said nothing for a moment, letting his words echo in her mind. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it. His voice sounded empty… lifeless, as though something vital was missing.
“Why did you send me an invitation?” she asked quietly.
“I was curious about you,” he replied.
“Why were you curious about me?” she pressed.
Lex leaned forward, his gaze locking onto hers. “There’s something about you. Something unique. It caught my attention the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Evalena raised an eyebrow.
“And what might that be?” she asked, her tone curious yet skeptical.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’d like to find out—if you’ll let me.”
Evalena smiled faintly, then pressed her lips to the side in thought.
“What do you mean by ‘if I let you’?” she asked.
Lex smirked. “What do you think I mean?”
“You could mean anything,” Evalena replied. “A simple conversation about everything and nothing… or a conversation that involves more than just talking.” As she spoke, she traced the rim of her glass with her fingernail.
Lex noticed the gesture and gently reached across the table, taking her hand.
“I’ll leave it up to you,” he said softly, “to decide what kind of conversation you’d like to have.”
In his eyes, she saw something—a longing for something. And then she felt it within herself, a quiet pull. It wasn’t desire in the physical sense, but something deeper. Emotional. Intimate. A faint jolt of invisible electricity passed between them, subtle but undeniable.
“What do you want from me?” she asked quietly.
“Only to know you,” Lex answered. “I’m entirely at your mercy in how that happens.”
♦♦♦♦
Evalena found herself inside Lex’s penthouse. She was impressed by the fine furnishings and sleek design, yet an undeniable emptiness lingered in the space. It was something she could feel, heavy and quiet, despite the luxury surrounding her.
She walked over to the sliding glass door and gazed out at the cityscape—a breathtaking view of AstroDyne City glowing in the night. Suddenly, the glass door slid open before her.
She turned to see Lex holding a remote control, having opened it with the press of a button. He smirked when he noticed her surprise.
“A bit of a trickster?” she asked, smiling faintly.
“I suppose I am,” he replied, setting the remote on the bar.
Evalena stepped out onto the balcony and lifted her eyes to the night sky. The moon shone brightly, the stars twinkling above. It was a beautiful sight.
Moments later, she felt hands rest on her shoulders. His touch was cold, sending a shiver through her.
“I know my hands are cold,” Lex said quietly.
“Why are you so empty, Lex Starling?” she asked.
“Life…” he murmured. “It has taken a lot from me. As I told you, I’ve experienced many things—and many of those experiences drained me. I struggle to feel anything at all.” His voice was low, nearly a whisper against her ear.
Evalena placed her hands over his, gently holding them as she leaned back against him.
“I have a gift,” she said. “I don’t fully understand it yet. All I know is that I feel deeply. That depth allows me to perceive emotions in ways that go beyond ordinary human sight.”
“And what do you see when you look at me?” he asked.
“That your emotions have been drained, just as you said,” she replied. “It’s why you’re so cold—not just emotionally, but physically. Your hands feel like ice.”
At that, he withdrew his hands from her shoulders and wrapped them around her waist. She felt his breath brush against her neck, and her heart began to race.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” he murmured, his voice low and almost seductive.
“Are you a vampire?” she asked, half-joking.
“Maybe I am,” he replied.
Evalena turned to face him and leaned in close, locking eyes with him.
“Your experiences with life drained so much from you,” she said softly. “You search for warmth—for something tangible. Everything you’ve lived through left you empty. If you want to feel warmth again, are you willing to give it in return?” Her voice carried a quiet, seductive challenge.
“The shy girl has an inner seductress,” he said with a smile.
“Yes,” she replied, smiling back, “but she only gives if it’s given in return.”
Their kiss ignited suddenly, fierce and consuming. As they continued to kiss, Lex’s hands grew warm as they traced up her body. Then, without warning, a brilliant light surrounded them, glowing brighter until it enclosed them completely. People across the city noticed the flash, wondering what it could be.
Moments later, the light faded.
♦♦♦♦
“Maryanne Connors reporting for AstroDyne City News. There has been no update on the whereabouts of Lex Starling, one of PrimarTech’s CEOs and one of AstroDyne City’s wealthiest men. Mr. Starling has been missing for over a month, and all leads have reached a dead end.
“The only confirmed detail is that he was last seen leaving Velvet Vortex with a woman identified as Evalena Chane, an employee of PrimarTech who has also since disappeared. According to a division manager, Mr. Starling met Ms. Chane during a visit to the company.
“Fellow coworkers describe Evalena as shy, friendly, and kind. They do not believe she was involved in any criminal activity and suspect that her disappearance—along with Mr. Starling’s—is connected to something else. What that ‘something else’ might be remains unknown.
“We will continue to bring you updates as more information becomes available.”
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The Signal and the Soul (The Rebel and the Hidden Rebel)
It is the year 2408.
Earth has become a dystopian world. The inner cities have crumbled into wastelands, while the outer cities gleam like utopian diamonds. One such decaying inner city is Hunger City.
In Hunger City stands Halloween Jack—a flamboyant man with red hair, outrageously colored outfits, and an eye patch. He perches atop the ruins of a skyscraper he calls home, shouting messages of rebellion against the system that has long oppressed humanity. More often than not, his defiance takes the form of music, his guitar screaming protest as he rocks against the night sky.
In the city of Cor Igneum, another rebel lives, though hers is a quieter resistance. Her name is Jabon. Unlike most, she does not follow the crowd or mimic the movements of others. She stands apart through her refusal to conform, openly favoring the abstract and the strange over the ordinary. Though she, too, despises the oppressive system, she fights it in her own way—by writing fictional narratives laced with hidden messages of encouragement and resistance. Her work has earned quiet praise, along with secret urgings from unseen readers to continue.
On this day, Jabon has decided to leave Cor Igneum. She boards a public transit train bound for a place that has always stirred her curiosity.
Hunger City.
As the train rumbles forward, she studies her reflection. Friendly brown eyes mask her vulnerability. Her dark brown hair is streaked with red at the front. Around her neck hangs a choker with a circular charm—two hands clasped together inside it, a symbol of unity. Though her heavy black, studded denim jacket, slightly ripped jeans, and chunky ankle boots give her an edgy appearance, the simple red top beneath—made of softly shimmering fabric—betrays the truth.
She is not a hardened rebel.
♦♦♦♦
She arrived in Hunger City.
What she saw wasn’t surprising, considering everything she had heard. It was an abandoned business district now inhabited by streetwise citizens—rogues, nomads, and artists of every kind. Buildings were layered in graffiti, color splashed across concrete and glass like living murals. As she continued down the streets of Hunger City, she saw people singing and dancing, each dressed uniquely, no two alike.
The sight fascinated her, drawing a smile to her lips. Still, a quiet instinct urged her to stay on guard. Despite its creativity and freedom, Hunger City had its dangers, and she listened to that inner warning.
Then she heard music drifting down from above.
She paused, focusing on the sound.
“Lost little girl,” someone said.
Jabon turned to see a man standing a few feet away. Even at a glance, she could tell he was armed.
“You’re not from around here,” he said, beginning to circle her.
Jabon said nothing, meeting his gaze without flinching.
“Ooh, a brave little girl,” he sneered. “All sexy and curvy. So tell me—what brings you to Hunger City?”
Still, she didn’t respond. The man stepped closer until they were nearly nose to nose.
“If you kill me, I’ll just be another dead woman on the streets of Hunger City,” Jabon said calmly. “I’m not as naïve as you think. I have nothing to give you. Whatever you want, you can find with any woman. What makes me so special? Just because you haven’t seen me before? A new face doesn’t mean new experiences.”
“Rath! Leave her alone!” someone shouted.
The man scoffed. “You’re brave—but watch yourself here. Consider that sound advice.” With that, Rath turned and walked away.
“That sounded more like a threat,” Jabon inwardly muttered to herself.
“You’re new in town!”
Jabon froze.
The voice hadn’t come from behind her—or anywhere at all. It had sounded directly inside her mind.
Someone in Hunger City was like her.
Gifted.
“Come up here!”
Jabon looked up at the surrounding skyscrapers. Though many people stood on their rooftops, none of them truly stood out. Moments later, she heard footsteps and turned to see where they came from.
A group of people approached—late teens to early twenties, if she had to guess. From their behavior alone, it was clear they weren’t residents of Hunger City.
She quickly deduced they were likely from Megatropolis, one of the utopian cities. Jabon found it quietly amusing how the wealthy youth from those pristine enclaves always found their way to places like Hunger City or Cor Igneum. Despite being crumbling, ruined cities, the idea of living without restrictions seemed to lure them in.
If only they knew.
“Follow the rich brats.”
Jabon snickered softly and did exactly as the voice suggested.
♦♦♦♦
Jabon followed them to a skyscraper labeled Envision Finance, clearly once a bank and investment firm. As she trailed them inside, she noticed that only two of the elevators were still functioning.
“Take the stairs to the tenth floor,” the voice instructed. “Then take the elevator on the right—it will bring you up to the fourteenth floor. From there, take the stairs.”
Jabon followed the directions exactly. Still, she hesitated for a moment, questioning why she was trusting a disembodied voice. She didn’t know who—or what—it was, and doubt crept in. But a strong, reassuring feeling washed over her, telling her she would be fine and urging her to continue. Recognizing the sensation as guidance from the Creator, she pressed on.
At last, she reached the rooftop and pushed open the door leading outside.
The rooftop was alive with people—singing, dancing, and leaping with unrestrained energy. Jabon stepped out and moved among them. Suddenly, a sharp guitar riff caught her attention, followed by a powerful voice.
She turned and saw a man dressed in a colorful outfit, red hair blazing beneath the lights, an eye-patch covering one eye. She raised an eyebrow, studying him with curiosity. As he played and sang, his gaze locked onto hers.
“You made it!”
Jabon smiled, crossing her arms as she watched him continue. Before she realized it, she was dancing along with the crowd.
When the song ended, applause erupted across the rooftop.
“Thank you, thank you!” he said, grinning. “For those who don’t know me—I’m Halloween Jack. Welcome to Hunger City, where the weird, the outcasts, and those who crave freedom from the oppressive system reside. Here, we speak our minds and call for freedom until that system is torn down!”
The crowd cheered at his words, even chanting his name.
“I take it you’re their leader,” Jabon said telepathically.
“I’m only speaking the truth. We must fight for our freedom and continue to speak out,” he replied.
“It’s been my observation that those who seek martyrdom often end up as cult leaders—doomed to fall,” she said calmly.
“And how would *you* go about it?” he asked.
“By doing what I do best—being myself. Not conforming to what others expect. That is true rebellion.”
Halloween Jack set his guitar aside and walked toward her.
“You’re Gifted, just like me. And I see in your mind that you’re quiet in your protest,” he said. “Why be quiet when you can be loud?”
“Why be loud when the softest whisper can speak the loudest?” she replied.
Her words intrigued him.
“Sometimes it’s what you do under the radar that brings real change. The louder you are, the harder the opposition works to silence you. But when you move quietly, no one is watching—and by the time they notice…” She paused. “Change has already begun.”
He studied her for a moment. “What’s your name, darling?”
“Jabon,” she said. Then she added, “Tell me, Jack… how did you know I was here?”
He smiled. “It seems the Creator has given us Gifted an inner radar—one that senses when another Gifted is near.”
“Makes sense,” she said.
Jack and Jabon stood there, looking at each other. For a moment, there was silence—then Jack spoke.
“I should read one of your fictional narratives,” he said with a smile.
“And I’ll listen to more of your songs,” she replied, smiling back.
♦♦♦♦
For six months, Jack read many of Jabon’s fictional narratives, while she listened to many of his songs. They discovered a deep sense of commonality with one another and gradually found themselves falling in love. Yet, they would not be able to see each other again. All transit trains into Hunger City were barred by the higher powers of Megatropolis.
Still, this did not stop Jack and Jabon. If they could not meet, they would send messages to one another—Jack through songs broadcast over pirated transmissions, Jabon through short, reflective non-fiction essays posted on underground websites. Unbeknownst to them, a movement began to take shape, inspired by the songs people listened to and the essays they read. It came to be known as The Love of Jack and Jabon.
Those drawn to the movement showed compassion by helping others in whatever ways they could. Some quietly nudged those in power to acknowledge the struggles around them and open their hearts. Slowly but surely, the higher powers began to notice—people thinking for themselves, performing acts of kindness with no desire for recognition.
And while this did not topple the ruling system, it did bring the world a little closer to balance.
As for Jack and Jabon…
In Cor Igneum, Jabon stood on the rooftop of her apartment building when a bright light appeared before her.
“Jabon, enter the light… it is time to go.”
She stepped into the light, and it vanished.
At the same moment, a bright light appeared before Jack.
“Jack, enter the light… it’s time to go.”
Without hesitation, Jack stepped forward, and the light disappeared.
No more was ever heard from Jack and Jabon, but the movement they inspired lived on.
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The Kaleidoscope Home (Madame Unique and the Madman)
Kasette Mireille often walked the halls of her unique home. It was a place that existed outside of time and space. It never looked the same, always shifting and changing—her home was like a kaleidoscope. Kasette herself was equally unique in the way she dressed. Her clothes were made of the finest fabrics, yet their patterns spoke of her eccentricity, as did the oddly shaped jewelry she wore.
On this day, she was in her reading room when she heard a crash. She quickly set her book aside and rushed out of the room. Opening the doors to the parlor, she saw a man lying on the floor. Turning her head, she noticed that he had come through the wall, which was now metaphysically closing itself.
She walked toward him quietly, the heels of her shoes softly clacking against the wooden floor. As she drew closer, she realized who he was.
She glanced at the mirror hanging on the far wall across the room. She looked the same as she always did—the same dark brown hair, though its length sometimes changed; the same brown eyes that reflected her friendly, trusting nature; and the same smooth, medium golden-brown complexion that hinted at a diverse heritage. A black velvet duster jacket adorned with silver and gold harlequin-patterned lapels fell over a black-and-red satin dress, perfectly matching her glamorous yet strange aesthetic.
She looked down again at the man lying on the parlor floor.
Aladdin Sane—the more extreme incarnation of Ziggy Stardust. The lightning bolt on his face gave him away.
She squatted down, picked up a fragment of the wall lying beside him, and gently placed it on his forehead. The piece began to glow, then slowly dissolved into him as a luminous light surrounded his body. His eyelids fluttered, and he gradually opened his eyes.
“Hello, Madman,” she said with a smile.
Aladdin blinked as he slowly sat up.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“Outside of time and space. You’re home,” she replied.
Aladdin stared at her, puzzled. “I’m home?”
She nodded.
He looked around. The place felt strangely familiar.
He stood and began to wander through the parlor, while Kasette rose to her feet. She said nothing as he explored, running his hands over the furnishings. Eventually, he sat down in one of the richly decorated velvet chairs.
“How do you know me?” he asked.
Kasette smiled.
“We’ve met over and over again, across many lifetimes. Always different names, sometimes different faces—but it has always been us,” she said.
Aladdin sat in silence for a moment.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Kasette Mireille.”
“The name doesn’t sound familiar,” he said.
“I did say that we never keep the same names. Sometimes I recognized you; sometimes I didn’t. But in every lifetime, you never recognized me, though you were always drawn to me,” she explained.
“Tell me one of the names you used,” Aladdin asked.
“Evalena Chane.”
He thought for a moment.
“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“None of the names I tell you would. That is simply how the Creator has arranged things. There are memories I’m allowed to keep—ones you are not,” she said gently.
Aladdin stood and began walking the room once more.
“You can explore the entire structure,” Kasette added. “You won’t get lost.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
As she turned to leave—
“You write stories,” he said. “You create wondrous worlds. That much I remember… or perhaps it has returned to me.”
Kasette turned back and smiled.
“There may be other things you’ll remember,” she said. “Give it time. One last thing… this is your home.”
And with that, she walked out.
♦♦♦♦
Days and hours did not exist within the otherworldly structure where Kasette lived. Aladdin had come to realize this. He also found himself feeling increasingly at home there, as if what Kasette had said was true—it was his home.
He wandered into a vast library. It felt familiar as he ran his fingers along the spines of countless books, pausing to read a few before returning them to their places. He walked to a window and watched as night swiftly gave way to day. When sunlight streamed into the room, recognition washed over him.
“I was here,” he said softly.
“Yes, you were,” Kasette replied.
Aladdin turned to her.
“You’re the Dreamer,” he said.
Kasette smiled.
“I’m the Dreamer, the Shy Girl, the Hidden Rebel—and now I am Madame Unique,” she said with a shrug.
“Don’t ask,” she added. “I’ve been asking the Creator to help me make sense of it all. All I’ve been told is to have faith. So I came to realize that my path was never meant to make sense. It’s meant to be abstract, non-linear… weird and strange.”
Aladdin smiled as he looked at her.
“Maybe I’m meant to walk this abstract, non-linear… weird and strange path with you,” he said.
“More than likely,” she replied.
Suddenly, a bright light appeared in the library, hovering above them.
“This is not the last stop. Much will happen—transformation, revelation. Sometimes it will make sense; sometimes it won’t. But keep moving forward. Keep your faith.”
Just as quickly as it appeared, the light vanished.
“What now?” Aladdin asked.
“Forward we go,” Kasette said. “Where it stops… we will never know.”
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Starman and Angel Star
2026
Keziah Alexandre was inside a local bookstore. She found herself in the music section, browsing through CDs and vinyl records. By chance, she came across several David Bowie albums. Instantly, the song “Magic Dance” played in her head, and she smiled, quietly singing along.
Interestingly, she had recently developed a deeper interest in David Bowie. She had always known of him, but aside from “Let’s Dance”—and the song now looping in her mind—she hadn’t explored his music much. That changed as she discovered more of his work. She had even rewatched Labyrinth, a film she’d always loved for its fantasy, now appreciating it in a new way.
Just then, the store’s speakers began playing “Let’s Dance.” Keziah smiled at the coincidence—or perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence at all.
Suddenly, she heard someone singing along. The voice was uncanny—so much like David Bowie’s that it made her pause. But Bowie had passed away in 2016. She looked up to find the source of the sound.
It was a man—tall, with a medium fair complexion. What caught her attention most was his hair: black, blond, and red woven together. He wore a black blazer over a white button-down shirt, paired with jeans and black shoes. When he noticed her looking at him, he smiled.
Keziah smiled back and walked over.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello there,” he replied.
“Were you the one singing just now?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“I hope this doesn’t sound lame,” she added, “but your voice sounds like David Bowie’s.”
He chuckled. “I get that a lot. I’ve never really paid much attention to it.”
“For a moment, I thought David Bowie had come back to life,” she said.
He snickered softly.
“I’m Brion David Jones,” he said.
“Keziah Alexandre,” she replied.
Brion studied her. She was beautiful—warm brown eyes behind her glasses, dark brown hair styled in a chin-length bob, and a lovely café-au-lait complexion. Her curvy, shapely figure filled her pink blouse and fitted knee-length skirt perfectly. She noticed his gaze and felt a blush rise to her cheeks.
“Don’t tell me you’re the shy type,” he said with a smile.
“I am, actually,” she admitted. “I consider myself quite the introvert.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “but I sense there’s more beneath that timidness.”
His words made her smile wider.
She noticed the album in his hand—*Tonight*. As if on cue, another Bowie song began to play over the speakers. Keziah glanced upward.
“As the World Falls Down,” she murmured. “I wonder if God is nudging the staff to play David Bowie songs.”
“Would that be strange?” Brion asked.
“Not strange,” she said thoughtfully. “Just… unusual. Two Bowie songs back to back.”
Brion grinned. There was something mischievous about it—not malicious, but inviting. For reasons she couldn’t explain, he felt familiar.
“You feel like you know me, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she admitted. “And I don’t know why.”
“Let’s have lunch,” he suggested. “Maybe it’ll come to you.”
“Alright,” she said.
♦♦♦♦
It didn’t come to her during lunch with Brion. It didn’t even surface during the many dates that followed. Yet Keziah couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about Brion David Jones. Strangely, the feeling didn’t unsettle her. Instead, it was comforting—encouraging. It allowed her to open herself to him, and in turn, he was just as open with her.
Keziah soon discovered that she and Brion shared much in common. They were both deeply creative—sometimes obsessive in their pursuits, and even a little strange in the way their creativity expressed itself. They also saw the world through unique lenses, ones most people wouldn’t understand. For Keziah, it was freeing to finally meet someone who truly did.
Within six months, Keziah and Brion were madly in love. Unsurprisingly, they also drove each other a little crazy—both in good ways and bad. The good moments were filled with fun and romance, often touched by something unusual or unexpected. The difficult moments were the familiar things couples clash over.
In the end, they were both passionate—yet never to the point of exhausting one another.
One night, Keziah and Brion sat out on the patio of his house. Snuggled together on an outdoor chaise lounge, a blanket draped over them, they gazed up at the moon and stars.
“Brion, I have a question,” she said softly.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Do you ever feel that God does unusual and extraordinary things?” she asked.
Brion pulled Keziah closer.
“Yes, I do,” he replied.
“Do you think one of those things is God bringing a woman face to face with a man she never imagined would be her match?” she asked.
Brion rested his head against hers.
“God does many strange things,” he said. “Such as drawing one person to another—so that, through that connection, they can find themselves.”
Keziah smiled and snuggled closer.
“So,” Brion said after a moment, “in the six months we’ve been together… did you ever wonder why it felt like you knew me before we started dating?”
“Yes,” she said. “But I wouldn’t say I knew you before. I know you *now*.”
“And what do you think?” he asked.
“You’re the most unique man I’ve ever met,” she said with a smile.
“And the same goes for you, Keziah.”
No more words were spoken. None were needed. As they continued to stare at the night sky, Keziah whispered—
“Hello, Starman.”
“Hello, Angel Star,” he replied.
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