He was sitting on the stone floor in the Hall of Prayer with his mind creating the worlds that he was the master of. He was about thirty-five, his head was shaved, and he was wearing a black kimono beneath black robes held shut in the front with a sash1. It was quite chilly for August, but his body didn’t feel the cold wind that was getting through the open windows of the ancient2 pagoda nor the coldness of the old stones he was sitting on. He could feel that soon he would be able to project his power to the real world around him. The monks in the temple he was in knew better than to disturb him during his meditations. For the past five years, his power was constantly enhancing3, and the monks could feel that too.

There were three steps in his process of achieving Control, where he could feel that the power of his thought could make things move and bend4 other people’s ability to think and overpower their emotions. Before getting to Control, however, there was Calmness and Detachment5. He was in the process of getting calm when a bright lightning of a sharp emotion pierced6 through his mind. He saw the image of his father. He frowned7 at this unexpected occurrence8 and opened his eyes.

“He’s dead,” he whispered.

He sat in silence for another minute. His face relaxed and a smile appeared.

“At last.”

Back to Business

“Look at the Moon,” Lizzy said, pointing to the bright big blueish9 circle in the sky.

“It looks lonely,” Mark said.

They were sitting outside a country cottage that belonged to Lizzy’s mother, which now belonged to Lizzy. There was no way for her to go back to the apartment she used to share with her late boyfriend. The police were still looking for her in connection with the dead body that her neighbors started to smell and called the authorities to investigate. Her cousin Anastasia, being her closest friend and next of kin10, put away some of her stuff in storage after the police cleared the crime scene. When Lizzy reached out to Anastasia, it took a lot of effort to convince her cousin that she was fine and not brainwashed by some cult. There was a reason why she could not contact the police just yet. Lizzy could not reveal why she was absent for more than two months either and tried not to see any other friends to avoid interrogation11. Everything had to be done discreetly12. The less people knew that she was back the better.

“It’s not lonely, it has the Earth,” she said and put her head on Mark’s shoulder. “Tonight, it’s called Blue Moon.”

It was a bit chilly outside, and they were wrapped in a quilt13 that Lizzy’s mother bought in some mountain village in Thailand where she went with her father, Peter, before they got married.

“Is it always blue here?” he asked.

“It’s actually not blue at all. It’s just a name for the second full moon in a month, I think.”

“How many full moons do you usually get?”

“I think there are twelve, but occasionally you get the 13^th. That’s Blue Moon.”

“I don’t think our moons get to be called anything. They’re just moons. Boring. I like your Blue Moon, even though it still looks lonely to me.”

“Tell me more about your world,” she asked, getting cozier by his side.

“I need to learn more about yours to know the differences better, don’t I.”

“True.”

“Will we have time to do that?”

“I hope we will.”

She kissed him on the lips and stood up.

“We have a long day tomorrow,” she said, gave him her hand and pulled him up.

***

The next day they were supposed to meet with their contact person – Peter’s acquaintance14 – who had promised to introduce them to a group called The Committee. The group that was secretly working on eliminating the threat that was coming from the late Dolion’s supporters. There were three ladies – the group’s leaders – who held high positions in the medical research industry in three different countries. They knew about Lizzy’s role in eradicating15 Dolion and – most of all – about the unique qualities of her blood. They were eager16 to meet her. The man – whom they were meeting – called the cottage landline two days ago. Mark was the one who talked to him and agreed on the details for the meeting.

Lizzy woke up early and watched Mark sleeping for a few minutes before jumping in the shower and starting breakfast. He walked in the kitchen – still slumberous17– while she was making eggs and hugged her from behind.

“Good morning,” he said and kissed her on the neck.

“Hi, sleepyhead18.”

“How’d you sleep?”

She had not been sleeping well ever since she was violently introduced to the other world. She did not want to bother Mark with her insomnia19 and never woke him up. She would silently lay in bed, trying to get rid of 20the images of the dead people she knew or didn’t know well but witnessed 21their deaths. There was one thing that bothered her a bit though. After they came back, among the flashbacks of the past two months, she started to see a person, who stood at a distance looking at her. He was present in almost all her dreams. The image wasn’t clear, just a male silhouette in, what seemed like, a long coat.

“Ok, let’s eat and be on our way22. What time are we meeting the man?”

“10 AM sharp, so we still have some time.”

She placed the pan with the eggs on a wooden cutting board that was already on the kitchen table, next to a watermelon they had bought at the farmer’s market the day before.

“Could you get the forks, please?” she asked Mark. “I’ll cut Mr. Watermelon here.”

“No plates?”

“Let’s just eat from the pan. It’s faster that way and no need to wash dishes.”

“Practical.”

She sliced the fruit in half. Took one half and sliced it again in two equally big parts. Then she took one of the quarters and cut it quickly into five triangles. Then she put each of the triangles on its side and cut the red flesh out, tossing the green rinds in the waste basket. The pulp triangles were also cut into cubes. She used her knife to scoop up the cubes and throw them into a large blue china bowl. The whole process took two minutes.