Everyone needs a place to call home. For most of us, that home is where we are born. Hometowns turn into life-towns ending up as ghost towns where only the memories of us remain.
But for a few of us, finding home becomes a journey. Some journeys lead across the universe. Other journeys, for those brave enough to embark upon them, lead to an entirely new realm all together.
I didn’t know about the Creators Realm, where I currently live, until I arrived, quite unannounced, on my eighteenth birthday. Up until that dramatic, heart-shattering moment I had split my days between the Gypsy Grove, where my mother lived, and the futuristic, 50’s-style town of Cratersville, where my magician father had his theater. Even as much as I loved both these places, I grew to realize that neither could truly be my forever home.
This discord began when my sister, Poppy, and I discovered the Magic that allowed us to create little creatures. To say that we didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into when we opened the bottle, which released the most powerful force in the Galaxy, would be the understatement of the century. When you are eight point five and ten years old respectively, as Poppy and I were back then, the only thing you are thinking about is all the cool creatures you’re going to create, not how those little creatures would change the very world in which you live.
My sister, touched by the Magic as she was, realized the life-changing aspects of our choice first. She became all knowing, which made her unknowable to me.
Our paths diverged.
Our closeness frayed.
The Gypsy Grove, where we had both felt at ease until that point, became her playground alone, while I spent more time in Cratersville with my dad and my true blue friend, Blueberry. Many evenings, Blueberry and I would take the starcar to the hills where we would look down upon our quirky little town.
Blueberry wasn’t amused at what he saw. He wasn’t a lifer, as those people who live and die in the same iconville in which they were born in, are called. Blueberry was rebellious, adventurous and edgy. He spoke his mind. I admired him for this. I knew exactly what he thought about my parents—my father especially. He blamed them for my love affair with a Magic that I just couldn’t say no to.
I wouldn’t be there as he wonderlusted his way through the Icon Galaxy. I wouldn’t be by his side when he discovered that special era that he would finally call home.
He knew, like Poppy knew, that the Magic was out of the bottle, and it had other plans for our lives. Our once hoped for journeys became forbidden paths. What could have been our homes, became places where we were only passing through—brief stops before we reached our final destinations.
I’m not really sure if I’ve reached my final destination yet, I’m just ending my teen years and there are many decisions I have yet to make. Each one, I know, will alter the rest of my life. Once I discard certain cards, they can never be picked up again. My father told me this analogy often, it’s only now that I truly know the gravity of the game that I am playing.
—Jellybean Reds, Creator of Little Creatures