Return of the Cicada — V.T. Dacquino

Seeing the three names on the grave stone reminded Izzy of the flower she carried. Today was June 7. Carefully she set the flower on the patch of ground. “I don't know if you're even in there, Damien. But happy seventeenth birthday anyway. I hope that somewhere there's a celebration for you. And I hope that you're at peace with your father and mother.” And then there was an unmistakable noise behind her. She turned quickly to see a stranger. He was young enough to be a teenager, but he was thin and sickly and his clothes and hair were drenched from the rain. His face was almost frightening. His eyes seemed to not belong to him with eyelashes that were long and beautiful. “Who are you?” “My name is Damien.” There was, of course, the possibility that none of this was really happening at all. Izzy might have simply worked the thought of Damien and a wonderful rainstorm into her dreams during the night and was still asleep. She could be dreaming! But it was all too real. This was not the Damien she would have been dreaming of. The Damien Springer she imagined alive wouldn't have looked like this, not even in her nightmares. But she had never seen this boy before---and he was here in the cemetery on Damien's birthday.