Still: Science Fiction. WITH TWINS!!!

[Mushroom_king]

[LOL ROBERT HEINLEIN REFERENCE!]

 

Still wasn't God, nor the son of one; he merely had powers like one.

 

Still was born on December 13th, in the year 2020; his full name was Still Alive Killingsworth. He'd been so named because countless times his parents had been told Still wouldn't live through birth; and when he turned out to be alive and completely healthy, Mr. and Mrs. Killingsworth celebrate their joy with the name.

 

Still's parents noticed nothing particularly strange about Still other than that some days Still would sit on the floor in their house and simply stare at the space. He did this for the first time as a baby, and for the rest of his life he would have this habit.

 

So the Killingsworth parents were very happy with their new son; he had been born healthy and very much alive despite what they'd been told, and this was good. It wasn't until Still was four that his parents began to notice anything particularly odd about him.

 

Of course most all children have imaginary friends at some time or another, and Still was no exception; and of course there were days when Still got in trouble and blamed his friend.

Still's imaginary friend was, according to Still himself, another four-year old boy who he claimed was his twin brother, whom Still had dubbed 'Moving'. Mr. and Mrs. Killingsworth saw this as troubling, wondering if Still was lonely with no siblings to play with him. But they shrugged it off, and went on with their lives.

 

One day Still was in his room, keeping to himself, when Mrs. Killingsworth, from the living room, thought she had heard the fridge door open. She assumed it was Still getting into the dessert before Dinner; he'd done that before, and had blamed it on Moving. She still remembered how Still had cried and pleaded he hadn't done it when he was punished.

Mrs. Killingsworth walked towards the kitchen, heard the fridge door shut again before she could get there, and instead went towards Still's room.

 

"Still?" She called, opening the door a bit. She looked inside and saw Still on the floor playing with toys, a few books scattered about. He looked up at his mother with large eyes.

"Still, did you get into the fridge again?"

Still sighed, stood up, and looked at her defiantly. "No," He said. "But I'm sure Moving did."

Despite his age, Still had remarkably good language skills, something his parents would brag about with friends.

Mrs. Killingsworth looked at her son.

"I swear," Still pleaded, his voice serious. "I didn't move from this spot. I've been playing for a while now."

She came into the room, stomping about, looking for evidence of food taken. She found none, no matter how much she searched. If he had stolen anything, he would have eaten it already, but he would have left some kind of mess.

 

"Still, what did you do with the food?"

"I'm telling you!" He shouted, "I didn't take any. Moving did."

"Still, if you don't own up now, I'll be forced to send you to bed right now without anything to eat."

"But I didn't do anything!" He said, and began to cry.

He's a good actor, his mother thought.

"If that's going to be the way you'll act, then you can go take your bath now, get into your pajamas, and climb into bed now."

Still sniffled. "Fine then," He said angrily, and stomped off to the bathroom to do so.

 

Mrs. Killingsworth stayed in the room for a little longer, checking one last time for signs Still had taken any food. There were none. She couldn't have hallucinated hearing the door open. At least, she didn't think she could have.

 

From the bathroom, Mrs. Killingsworth heard the sound of Still yelling at his imaginary twin brother like he had never yelled before. And, as she passed by the room, she swore she heard someone whimpering and apologizing, in a voice that sounded like Still's. Mrs. Killingsworth chalked it up to Still acting, and went to make dinner for herself and her husband.

 

"I can't believe you would get me in trouble like that," Still said. "Moving. You're getting me in trouble on purpose. You're mad because I was born before you, huh?"

Still saw Moving; well, he saw Moving in his mirror. Still was brushing his teeth (which he found stupid since he hadn't eaten dinner, but he did it so mommy wouldn't complain about it), and talking to his reflection. Moving had his own movements and voice, so he moved as though he wasn't a reflection. And yet he was.

"Well, Still, mom & dad don't even realize I exist, do they? You can understand why I'm jealous. But I'm not doing it on purpose."

Still spit out into the sink. "I know you're not. But...I mean, it's like I'm the only one who can see you. They don't even think you're real."

Moving sighed. "Typical, I guess."

Moving looked at the ground inside the mirror, and neither said anything. Still put down his toothbrush, looked at his reflection, where Moving sighed indefinitely.

 

Before either could say anything, Still, urged on by a voice, a conscience, reached into the mirror. He clutched Moving's shirt, and pulled.

"Still-? Brother, what are you-?" Moving shouted, but Still kept pulling.

"Ahhhh!" Still yelled as he fell off the stool that let him reach the sink, and successfully pulled Moving out of the mirror.

"Ouch," Still winced, as he got up, propped the stool back up, and stood on top. His reflection was still there, but this time the reflection was Still, just Still.

 

Moving stood up, and felt his body. He and Still were wearing matching outfits-plain white long-sleeve shirts and blue jeans.

"Hey," Moving said, stepping on top of the stool after Still did. He looked at himself in the mirror, moving his face around.

"I'm here!" Moving shouted. "I exist! You did it! I'm real!!"

Still stood there, smiling, and Moving jumped down off the stool and hugged his brother.

"Thank you, Still," Moving said, his voice muffled by clothes.

The two were quiet for a moment, not questioning that Still had just pulled his own reflection out of a mirror and given his imaginary brother flesh.

 

"Come on-let's take our bath. Do you mind if we bathe together?"

"Just for tonight. Every other night I want to bathe by myself though."

"Sounds good then. Here," Still said, picking up his pajamas, which were blue and had a rocketship theme. The pants had, along with rockets, pictures of stars and aliens.

"These are my pajamas; do you have a pair too?"

Moving looked around, and shrugged.

"That's ok," Still said. He held up the pajamas, and stared at them for a while; and before the boys' eyes an exact pair materialized. Moving was amazed, but Still seemed to not notice what he had even done.

 

"Now that you have some jammies, we can take a bath. It's not so bad."

Moving nodded, and the two boys, after taking off their now-dirty day clothes, climbed into the bath, which Still had filled with sweet-smelling bubbles. A few toys sat on the edge of the tub, and Still grabbed a bottle of liquid kid's soap, which smelled like grape. Moving grabbed a plastic boat and played with it, making it sail a sea of bubbles.

 

Still squirted some of the grape soap on a blue loofah, and washed himself with it as Moving played with the bubbles; and then the two switched, with Moving washing himself with the grape soap, often taking big whiffs of the scent, as Still played with the toy and a loofah shaped like a caterpillar.

When Moving was done washing, he set the loofah on the edge of the tub, and Still grabbed a rubber duck of the edge of the tub, along with a plastic action figure not meant for the bath but was played with in it anyway.

 

"I normally don't play in here, because playing by myself can be very boring sometimes," Still said. Moving frowned.

"But what about me?"

"Well, before I realized you were here. And before you were even able to play with me."

Moving smiled a tiny smile. "Well, what sorts of things do you want to play?"

Still shrugged. He looked at the caterpillar loofah, the toy boat, and the action figure.

"Well, the action figure could ride the boat and fight the caterpillar-" He started, putting the figure inside the boat and setting up for him to fight the loofah. Moving grinned.

"Here, I'll be the caterpillar," He said, holding it up. Still clutched the boat, stared at it for a long time, and with a loud roar, the toys came to life. The action figure floated in the bathwater, the action figure standing on top of it; the loofah roared, and the figure looked at the brothers-notably Still.

"Well, don't I get a weapon?" The figure asked, and Still frowned.

"Woopsie, I forgot-" He said, looking around for a weapon for the figure. Still reached up onto the sink, grabbed his toothbrush, and handed it to the toy.

 

"Be careful. I need it back."

"Thanks," The figure said, its voice powerful. It stood on the boat, the caterpillar loofah roaring and then racing towards the boat. The figure jumped on top of the boat, swinging his toothbrush at the monster, knocking it back with a splash.

 

"Still?" Came the voice of Mr. Killingsworth outside the bathroom. "Are you alright? It's getting late. Get out of the bath and into your jammies, ok?"

"Ok, daddy," Still shouted back. The loofah monster and action figure looked at him.

"Tomorrow night we can continue, ok?" Still promised the toys, and the boys climbed out of the tub, grabbing towels, and drained the water and put the toys back on the edge of the tub.

Still and Moving dried off and put their pajamas on, and ran into Still's bedroom.

 

Still's bedroom was a big enough size for a child his age, and had a wallpaper border with an outer-space theme; indeed, his bedsheets and pillowcases also had outer space on them, his nightlight was shaped like a UFO, and glow-in-the-dark stars were stuck to his ceiling.

 

Still looked at the bed he slept in, which was bigger than needed for Still-but perfect for him and Moving.

"Come on," Still said, motioning towards the bed. "We can get in, and we wait for mommy and daddy to come in, tuck us in, and tell us a story."

Moving smiled and nodded, and lifted up the thick blanket, revealing the outer-space themed sheets, and both climbed into the bed.

 

"Moooooommyyyyy," Still shouted, "Come here! I wanna show you somethin'!"

Mrs. Killingsworth shouted "Ok, I'm coming with a story right now," and she opened the door, smiling. She walked over, and gasped when she saw Moving.

 

"Still," She said, her voice shaking, "Who is that?"

"Mommy," Still said worriedly, "This is Moving, my brother. Don't you remember him?"

Mrs. Killingsworth's mouth hung agape. Still and Moving exchanged glances, and Still sighed.

"Mommy, he's my twin brother. Just because he's younger doesn't mean you can just pretend he's imaginary or something."

Mrs. Killingsworth gulped. "I don't believe it," She muttered. She smiled nervously, and gulped again.

"Don't worry, I'll fix this," Still whispered to Moving. Still stared at his mother, with wide, starry eyes. Power emanated from him, and for a moment, Mrs. Killingsworth's eyes became wide and starry as well; and then Still fell onto the bed.

 

Mrs. Killingsworth stared ahead, and shook her head.

"Still, Moving, are you two ready? Tonight is episode two of The Rolling Killingsworths. Tonight the Killingsworth Twins are in their big spaceship and are about to travel to the other side of the Galaxy to make some new friends."

Still grabbed soft plushes of a green alien and an astronaut and handed the astronaut to Moving.

"I can't wait to hear the story."

 

-To be continued-

[Horatio]

[ Mushroom_king... this is incredible!!! I am really excited for you to continue! ]

[Mushroom_king]

[[i'll be starting the second chapter of this tomorrow after school-promise. I'll also be working on a new story called And The Lords of the Underground, which'll be a kind of multinational superhero squad type deal. look forward to it.]]

[Horatio]

[ Outstanding! We'll be waiting. ]

[Mushroom_king]

There's a popular theory stating that along with the universe you and I are currently residing in, there are a great many others. A similar theory says that there are hundreds of different timlines, little alternate universes (or perhaps Universii) of each and every different possibility our lives present.

 

Thus was the case with Moving Away Killingsworth's existence. In a different universe, Still did have a twin brother; in the one he used to live in, he was an only child. In another, he was a girl. In another, he did in fact die. In yet another, he was a triplet, and in another, he had a twin, but a twin sister, and yet even another where he had a fraternal twin brother.

And, there was a universe where Moving was an only child.

I could go on, as there are so many possibilities for how Still & Moving could have turned out. But I digress.

 

Somehow, Still had made it so his bathroom mirror looked into a different universe, one where Moving was an only child, and realized that in other worlds he had a brother. Still was quite lonely, and neighborhood children found him strange and didn't want to play with him very much. (Still didn't want to play with them, either.) So Still had decided to retrieve his brother from that universe, and into his own. Or, maybe, Still transported himself to a universe where Moving was his brother. I think I'd go with the former theory.

 

Life adjusted well for Still; his parents blissfully unaware of the changes. Moving was a little bewildered, but his brother didn't seem to be bothered, so Moving was not bothered either.

 

Still found having a brother wonderful, especially one who looked and acted just like him. He preferred playing with Moving than other children, especially because Moving didn't really mind when Still brought toys to life, or duplicated things. Still didn't want to do those things around other kids because they might cause problems-tell stories about him to newspapers, and Still didn't want that happening to him.

 

Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Killingsworth remind unaware of Still's powers. Still himself barely seemed to notice he had them. Though it would take many years, Moving would get used to those powers.

 

But he couldn't help admitting that he was a little jealous, and decided to talk it over with Still.

 

"Brother?" Moving said one day, as Still sat in his room flipping through a picture book. He couldn't read yet, though he recognized a handful of words because his parents sometimes read books to him and Moving before bed.

Still slowly lifted his head. His eyes looked tired, and peaceful.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?" Still asked sleepily.

"Your...uhm, powers? The stuff you do. Like pulling me from the mirror and making toys come to life."

Still blinked. "What about 'em?"

"I'm really jealous. You know, because I don't have any."

Still blinked again. "I'm sorry, Moving. I don't really understand."

Moving gulped.

"Big brother, please, can I have just one?"

"One what?"

"A special thing! Power."

Still yawned. "I guess so. What one do you want?"

Moving shrugged. "I don't know. I don't even know what I'm saying, really. It's so strange."

 

Still stood up, and closed his book, neatly putting it back where it went.

"Here," Still said, "I can give you the power of..." His head nodded a little bit. He was really tired, it looked.

He shook his head again. "I can give you the power of..." He yawned, and shook his head, saying "Sin-gull Mind-ed-niss." Singlemindedness, he tried to say.

 

Moving stared. "What is that?"

"It means you'll always know where I am, and stuff like that..."

Moving got a small smile. "Sounds good. But we're never seen apart."

Still shook his head, and put his hand on his brother's shoulders. Still shut his eyes, and for a few moments, time seemed to stand still.

 

Still fell to the ground a few moments later. "There," he said, "Now I'm gonna sleep, ok?" He didn't even pull himself to the bed, and fell asleep on the floor.

Moving looked at his hands as if he expected to see something different.

Moving stared at his brother. Although they were twins, Moving sometimes didn't understand his brother; not the way he acted, but the things he did. Moving had no idea how or why Still could do those things. He doubted Still did, either, and he felt Still hardly noticed that he had powers.

 

Moving walked away, wondering if the power worked. Would Still still have that ability? Whatever he had said. Being able to know where he was no matter where he was. He wondered.

 

Moving walked out into the living room, which was silent; his mother napped on the couch, and his father was somewhere. Maybe out getting groceries or something.

"Mommy?" Moving said, and she slowly opened her eyes. "Still's taking a nap, if you want to know. Can I go out and play?"

Mrs. Killingsworth grunted and nodded. Moving smiled, and went back into the room to get some shoes, and possibly to tell Still that he was going to go play.

Moving ran towards the room, eager to go outside, when he stopped.

 

Still was not in their bedroom.

 

"Still?" He said, and looked around. Still was not in the bed, or under it.

"Still, come on out, please?" He said, as nicely as he possibly could. "I'm gonna go out and play."

No answer.

Still opened his sock drawer and pulled out some light blue ankle socks, and after putting them on, grabbed his shoes and put them on.

"OK! Bye, Still. Wherever you are."

 

Moving ran out into their front yard. It was 3 in the afternoon, and there were a few children out in their yards. A small boy across the street, about the same age as Still & Moving, yelled to him.

"Still! Hey, Still!"

"I'm Moving," said Moving. "Still is sleeping."

"Oh," Yelled the boy. "I've never met you!"

Moving ran down his yard, as to communicate better.

"You and Still look just alike," said the boy.

"We're twins," Moving explained.

The boy said nothing.

 

Moving walked back up his driveway, and inside his garage was a trunk full of toys for outside. There was a ball, some chalk, and a kit for making a sandbox in the Summer, which was drawing near. Still grabbed some chalk and decided to draw.

 

He took the small bucket of chalk, and began sketching crude figures of himself, and then a crude sketch of Still.

He sat in front of it, and stared at the one supposed to be Still.

"Playing just isn't any fun by myself," Moving said to himself. He decided to go back inside and make sure Still wasn't still hiding.

 

When he got inside, his mother was up, and was doing a bit of work on her laptop. His father still wasn't home, and his mother looked at Moving.

"I thought you were going to play?"

"I was. But it's not as fun without Still."

"Well, your brother wants to nap, and you ought to respect that. How odd-for all your lives so far you've always napped together."

Moving didn't say anything, because he didn't really remember much of his first year of life, and only remembered a handful of things from when he was 3. The truth was that little happened to the Killingsworth twins, since they hadn't started school yet. The only things Moving ever remembered was when he watched movies for the first time, or when Still used one of his powers.

 

Moving walked over to his (and Still's) bedroom; Still wasn't there.

"Still, where are you?" He said, and looked around the room. He checked the bathroom. No Still.

 

"Mommy, have you seen Still?"

"Well, no, I haven't; wasn't he napping?"

"He was, but he disappeared, it seems." Moving's eyes grew wide. "He fell asleep right on the floor. You don't think an alien under the bed got him, do you?"

His mother frowned. "I don't think he got taken by any bed aliens."

Moving sighed, and then remembered: The power Still had given him! He could know where Still was, wherever he could be!

 

"I'll be right back, mommy, I think I can find out where he is."

"And how?"

"Me and Still are twins, so we're connected!"

His mother chuckled, and encouraged him to do that.

 

Moving went outside again. His stood in front of the drawing of Still, and closed his eyes.

Where are you, brother? He thought, and his eyes shot open.

"Still," He said, looking around, and realized that his mind seemed to be making an arrow in some direction; like he was a magnet.

"Still, are you there?" He said, and began following the psychic arrow his mind seemed to be projecting.

 

"Still?" He said again, and kept moving, until he reached the backyard; his mind-arrow went a little fuzzy, and he looked around,

"Still, where are you?!" He shouted, and began to cry.

He sat down in the grass, and shut his eyes again, trying to see if he could get the power to work again.

"Still, where are you?" He shouted.

He shut his eyes, hoping to 'activate' the power again. He couldn't se where Still was, but he was able to sense it, somehow-even he couldn't describe the sensation.

 

"Still!!!" He shouted, and shut his eyes.

Show me where Still is, he thought, a demand to no one. An image, to his surprise, slowly began to seep into his mind's eye. He saw Still, but couldn't see where Still could possibly be.

 

"Still...Still, where are you? Please don't be gone, Still..."

Moving broke down crying in the middle of the yard, and in his mind, thought he heard the faint voice of his brother somewhere in his head.

"Moving...Moving..."

"Still?" Moving said, looking up. He looked around.

 

The backyard of the Killingsworth home was not much, but there was a large garden, and a birdbath near it.

"Maybe he's hiding in the garden," Moving sniffled. He slumped towards it, and heard a splash in the birdbath.

 

"Birdie?" He said, looking towards it; he saw ripples, but no birds in it nor flying away. Again, he heard his brother's voice.

"Moving."

Moving walked towards the birdbath and looked inside. There was his reflection.

"Still..." he said, and another tear fell down his face into the birdbath water; And again, he heard Still call his name, but clear as day now.

 

"Moving!" Still said, and Moving looked down in the birdbath water. His reflection looked up at him, and its mouth began to move.

"Here I am, Moving. I'm not sure how I got here," He said quietly. "But it's a very comfy napping place. Do you think you can pull me out?"

 

Moving sniffled. "Still, I found you!!" He started crying again, and Still's eyes grew wide.

"Stop, Moving! Don't cry into the water..."

Moving turned away. "But how, Still?"

"Just grab my hand," Still reached out his hand. "Just do that. I'll do the rest."

 

Moving nodded, and reached for the water. It just felt like ordinary water, but soon a curious thing came over it as it became solid, and eventually formed a hand; Moving pulled, and more water came out, vaguely human-shaped, and then formed into Still.

 

Still landed in the grass next to Moving, his clothes, surprisingly, completely dry.

"I'm sorry, Moving. I didn't mean to get lost and make you worry."

"It's a good thing you gave me that skill," Moving said, tears still forming in his eyes.

 

"Moving, just remember..." Still said, and looked at his brother, deep into his eyes. "You'll always know where to find me, brother...you'll always know, right? You'll always be able to find me. You'll always know where."

 

Moving stared at him. "What do you mean, Still?"

"You can always find me, Moving," Still explained.

"I don't understand," Moving said, crying.

"I don't either," Still said quietly. "I'm so tired, Moving. Please nap with me this time so I don't wander off," Still asked, and Moving nodded, who was still crying.

[Mushroom_king]

Still - 3

 

------------------------------------------------------

 

After the incident with Still in the birdbath, Moving decided to keep a better eye on his brother. Luckily, the strange skill Still had given him allowed him to keep good track of Still, wherever he was. The twins napped together, and whenever it seemed Still was going to vanish, Moving gently prodded his brother, telling him not to wander off.

It wasn't uncommon for Still to become a bit too involved with his dreams; often entering the dreams himself, and this frightened Moving, especially since he had no way of controlling his brother's actions, nor doing anything about them. Sometimes he would use the power Still gave him to see what kind of dream Still entered. But, sadly, there was no way he could interfere.

 

When Still & Moving were about to go to preschool, they would often overhear their parents talking about school for the two of them. Mr. Killingsworth would say that Still seemed so bright, that he should go to a gifted children's school, or go to Kindergarten early, or something like that. However, Mrs. Killingsworth stated that if they did, Moving, who was smart but not as gifted as Still, would be left behind in a different school-and she refused to send the twins to different schools.

 

So, Still & Moving Killingsworth attended the same preschool together, with their parents rapidly planning on what Elementary School they would send them to the next year.

 

The two were to attend some Preschool, situated on the edge of the city. A fanciful Chinese restaurant, built to resemble a temple of some sort, was visible from the playground. The place had some long name, that not even Still could really remember. The building had some other use, too, but the twins never noticed-all they noticed was that the leftmost hallway led to preschool, and they sometimes saw a caregiver using machines in the lobby, or something like that, and they always said hello to them.

 

The room where they had preschool was spacious, and was downstairs in the establishment. The twins, especially Moving, imagined the other rooms in the leftmost hallway to led to mysterious, magic places.

 

So every day, Mrs. Killingsworth dropped the twins off at the preschool, where they played for a while, and then she would pick them up and bring them home. Sometimes it was Mr. Killingsworth who dropped or picked them off, but not very much.

 

Still & Moving were a hit with the children, nearly all of which didn't know about twins, and were fascinated. The two were even the subject of a small learning spot (every day, the 'teacher' would gather the children around for a small lesson, organized game, or storytime), where the teacher told them about Still & Moving and what twins were. It was a simplified lesson, of course, and while Still & Moving made some friends due to it, Moving didn't care for the vast amounts of attention.

 

"Children," The teacher had begun, "Still & Moving are twins."

"They look just alike!" Said a small girl.

"Yes," said the teacher. "Still & Moving were once one, but somehow, before they were born, they became two, and because of that, they look exactly alike."

A chorus of 'Ooooh' came from the children, and Still and Moving, holding hands, stood right next to each other. Same green eyes. Same near-white blond hair. Same face shape, same height and weight-same everything. The major difference was that Still near-always had a faraway look in his eyes, and when he smiled, it was softly; Moving was a bit more expressive, and his eyes were often wide and sparkling with wonder.

 

The twins were popular with the children, for they had enormous imaginations and were good for pretend games; a popular game, that Still came up with, was to take the picture books, and instead of reading them (if you could do that!) or asking the teacher what it said, to make up a story based on the pictures.

 

One day Still played this game, and decided, with support from peers, that the story a friend had made was even better than the story in the book (for Still could read), and decided to tell it to the teacher on hand.

 

"That isn't right," The teacher said. "Still, you know how to read. Read the book normally."

"But I think the story is much better than this one," Still said. "These pictures are better than the words."

"No, Still. That isn't the way reading works."

"I know," Still said quietly, giving up. He sulked back over to his friends-Moving had never seen him quite so downtrodden.

 

Later that day, Still & Moving were taken home. Still was upset about what the teacher had said. The story his friend had made really <i>was</i> better than the book, which Still found a bit stupid, really. He had to do something about it.

 

 

The next day, Moving woke up to find that Still was clutching a hardbacked picture book in his hands, though he was still sleeping. He picked up the book, and flipped through it.

The book looked exactly like the other picture book, but the words were of the story the little boy had made up.

"Still?" Moving said, shaking his brother awake.

"Yes?" Still said, blinking his eyes open.

"Did you make this?" He asked, showing him the book.

Still nodded. "It'll make a nice gift," Still explained.

"You won't show it to teacher, will you?" Moving asked, as they got dressed.

"Of course not," Still said. "Besides, she'll just think it's the original book."

"But then how will he take it home?"

"It has my name in it," He said. "It's a present for him, I'll explain."

"Okay, okay."

 

The Killingsworth twins got to preschool, said goodbye to their mother, and put away their coats and lunchbags in the cubby-holes.

During their playtime, Still went over to the boy and handed him the book.

"Look inside," Still said.

 

The boy was mystefied, but did so anyway. Still explained.

"It has the words you made up."

The boy opened up the real book, and though he couldn't read yet, he could recognize letters, and noticed that the shapes were indeed very different.

"What did..."

"It's okay," Still said.

The boy hugged him tightly.

"When I can read," He said, "I'm gonna read this first."

Still nodded. Moving grabbed Still's shirt and motioned towards a box of stamps, and the two began to play-with the boy joining in, and a few other children. And so Still & Moving made at least one true friend in preschool.

 

And so every day in preschool was like this. The twins would be dropped off, put their shoes and backpacks away, play, sleep at naptime, have the teacher read a story, eat, play, and go home. Of course, to the children, it wasn't quite so simplistic, with each day full of adventures.

 

"Why don't we make a book, Still?" Moving suggested one day, pointing to the unorganized bin of stamps, paper, fancy scissors, and stickers.

"Okay," Still said. Still reached into the box for the paper, and began folding it like a book.

"What should it be about?" Still asked.

"Whatever's in the box," Moving replied. He dumped the stamps out-just dinosaurs.

"Here's some dinos," Moving said.

Still looked through the stickers. He gasped.

"What is it?!" Moving said. Still showed them to his brother.

 

"Space," Still said. The stickers had spaceships and astronauts on them, with the moon, some stars, and the American flag thrown in for good measure.

"I know," Still said.

He opened up the makeshift book and used a marker to draw a moon landscape, then stuck an astronaut sticker on the moon. Using the stamper, he stamped the image of a T-Rex in front of the astronaut.

 

"A team of spacemen went to the moon and found dinosaurs," Still explained. "At first the spacemen are scared, but then they learn the dinosaurs are friendly and they all become friends and live happily ever after."

Moving smiled, nodded, and the two began working on the story together, and soon, without any help from Still's powers, became drawn into the story they made up together.

 

After they finished, Still went back to the beginning and started making up a story as they went along.

 

"Once upon a time, there was an astronaut named Still Killingsworth, and his best friend Moving, and they went to the moon together on a very important mission. But, when they got there, they saw huge dinosaurs!"

He turned the page.

"Still & Moving stood in fear, until they saw the dinosaurs come towards them, and ran very quickly back to the spaceship! They hid inside the ship, thinking the dinosaurs were coming to eat them, when they saw the dinosaurs outside. Moving noticed that they were crying! The two went outside to check."

He turned the pages. In the picture, they had used blue markers to make huge teardrops on the dinosaurs.

 

" 'What's wrong, dinosaurs?' The two asked. The dinosaurs said 'We have no friends, because they always run away from us.'

'We're sorry we ran away,' Moving said. 'We'll be your friends, dinosaurs.' And so the astronauts and the dinosaurs became friends. The end."

Moving clapped. "I really liked it," he said.

 

The two continued to play with the stamps, until Mrs. Killingsworth came by and tapped them on the shoulder, signaling it was time to go home. Still grabbed the book they had made and the three headed home.

 

----------------------------------------------------------

 

After dinner, Still & Moving went to their room to prepare for bed. Both changed into their space-themed pajamas, brushed their teeth, and climbed into bed. Still grabbed the soft green alien, and Moving grabbed the soft astronaut plush.

"Tonight is another episode of The Rolling Killingsworths," Mrs. Killingsworth said. "Still & Moving have breached the surface of Venus and are anxious to see what lies on the surface...maybe aliens...?"

The twins giggled. These stories were one of the few times that Still and Moving, expression-wise, were indistinguishable.

 

Their mother finished up the episode of the bedtime story-Still & Moving had entered the surface of Venus, where they found a mysterious, civilized alien race; some of the aliens were very angry about the two humans intruding on their planet, and the two have been driven into the Venusian wilderness...

 

Moving begged his mother to continue, but she said no-wait until tomorrow! And she turned off the lights in the room, with stars on the ceiling glowing, and just as Moving was to fall asleep, Still gently grabbed his shoulder.

"Hold my hand, Moving," Still whispered. "I'll let you come into my dream tonight."

Moving was excited at this prospect, and quickly clutched his brother's hand.

 

Still shut his eyes, as did Moving; the two drifted off to sleep, and soon the two dreamt.

 

The dream consisted of the two in space, like many of their fantasies did; being little boys who so badly wanted to be astronauts. The twins floated in space, though with no spacesuits; being a dream, this did not concern them.

 

But then it was different. They were no longer in space; they were in a classroom, with other children their age. It wasn't preschool; they didn't know it, but it was a Kindergarten (or perhaps 1st Grade) room. The two sat with two girls their age, one coloring, the other playing with a large plush doll.

 

Still & Moving talked with the girls for hours, realizing that they all had common interests; the twins didn't realize that they were really dreaming, and the whole thing was very realistic.

 

Still & Moving exchanged addresses with the girls, but just as they saw the papers with the addresses on them, they woke up.

"Don't go..." Still said sadly, and rose out of bed, looking around.

"Moving," He said quietly, and his brother looked up at him. "What?"

Still looked around again. "Nothing." He got up and began to change into clothes for the day, as the two set off for another day of preschool.

[Topazia]

[

But I want more! lol

 

This is very good! I was totally drawn into it!]

[Horatio]

[

But I want more! lol

 

This is very good! I was totally drawn into it!]

[ I totally agree!!!! More, more, more!!! Please! ]