Dahlia returns to her dorm room
Like a misty cat, a gray fog rested on the grounds of the southern campus. Christine Dahlia Baptiste was walking towards her dorm as the fog’s breath caressed her face as she held her phone by her face. Her club-striped vest and a massive corduroy brown jacket concealed her thin figure as a big monochrome purse dangled from one of her sagging shoulders. As she approached her residence hall, she passed beneath several Southern live oaks. The five-story college quarter was a fusion of classic and artistic styles. A glass structure slid past the hall’s exterior colonnade, emphasizing the building’s modern appearance. A passerby, a college student, stared at her as he walked by.
“Je m’appelle Dahlia,” She spoke aloud for a listening exercise. But the young woman, absorbed in a language learning app and practicing French numbers, colors and polite phrases, didn’t detect him.
She next passed a fountain, surrounded by cream wild indigos, as she advanced towards the hall’s entrance and pushed opened the double glass door. Boarding an elevator, she arrived at the fifth floor, which included her own room. Dahlia pulled a key from her purse and unlocked the door.
“Oh, Dolly, you’re here early,” said Felicity, Dahlia’s roommate and twin. While their freshmen year they had roomed separately, at the beginning of their sophomore year, they had made the decision to get a place together.
Dahlia slipped off her lug-sole derby shoes.
“I’m gonna start my dance lessons this Tuesday, d’ya wanna come with me?”
“Sorry, I don’t have time, gotta finish up my history homework.”
“Really, you need to relax a bit, Dolly. There’s more to school than homework.”
More to school than homework. That’s like saying there’s more to libraries than books.
“How was your day, City?”
“It was great! Me and Nixie met up today after her track meet.”
Felicity had her elementary German textbook, open though her focus was elsewhere.
“That’s neat,” Dahlia said in reply.
“Did you talk to anybo—” But her sister stopped herself before she finished the sentence. Dahlia sighed with exasperation as she peered out the window as her breaths began to slow and even.
“How’s it going with your German class?”
Felicity said, “It’s been fine, though I still sometimes struggle with remembering the correct genders every now and then.”
Dahlia drew her eyebrows together, but then nodded as she recalled her own past struggles with French.
Did Dahlia have time to talk to anyone, especially with selective admissions this semester? She had to be exceptional, they would expect more from her. Grades, homework, and studying must always be prioritized. But perhaps, she could just leave a little more room in her schedule for social interaction. Besides, communication would be an important skill to better improve as an education major, after all.
“That’s cool.”
University dining room meet-cute
On the following day, he sat at a long wooden table in the university’s dining room as he balanced reading The Phantom of the Opera, his aunt had told him to read it, with another assignment. His was just one of several tables which populated the white-tiled area. On two sides of the room, Louvre windows revealed the heart of the campus, the parade grounds, as well as bald-cyprus trees.
He could see her, just a table away, a college student. She had a lean frame and dark tightly wound curls, but more importantly she was also reading a book: Jane Eyre. She glanced away from her book to perceive him. His eyes gleamed, deep set, almost black, shielded by long lashes, as he grinned at her. But she could not help but wrinkle her nose, was it at his earring? Or his man bun?
She pressed her lips as she noticed the book in his hand. The girl focused as if to better mark the title as her hands trembled.
He thought, reading was potentially a sign of intelligence, and she was alone. At least, that was what his aunt had told him. Wasn’t this apparent enjoyment of solitude another potential sign?
“The Phantom of the Opera? Is this your first time reading it?” Dahlia breathed.
“Yeah, but I feel kinda deceived by this book.”
“Deceived?”
“My aunt assigned it, and I do find it interesting, but the book description was kinda deceptive.” He turned to the back cover and pointed at the text, “It made it sound like it was a romance, but I’m half convinced it’s in fact horror.”
“It’s also gothic and a romance. They’re some of the best novels,” Dahlia said.
He chuckled, “Well, I’ll take your word for it. I’m Remiel, Remiel Hatchett.”
“I’m Christine Dahlia Baptiste. Your name’s kinda short.” She smiled slowly, but then cleared her throat.
His name was too short? Her comment was blunt if not rude. Should he have had a middle name too? She lowered her head, was Christine embarrassed by her comment? She had to be.
“I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names. It’s only I find shorter ones easier to remember.”
“It’s alright Christine, I’ll find a third name to meet you.”
“To meet me?”
To meet me, his English still needed some work. Did she notice it?
“Please, ‘Remiel Hatchett’ is a perfectly good name, beau—I was way too blunt earlier.”
She seemed apologetic.
“Christine sounds wholesome,” he said as he leaned forward towards her.
“Thanks, but I always thought Christine was sentimental. I usually go by Dahlia or even Dolly.”
“Well then, Dahlia, it was good talking with you, next time we meet I’ll have a third name.” He stood.
“Dahlia, are you?—” but he never finished his sentence.“ I hope to see you soon.”
“You too.”
An apparent scholar, curt but enthusiastic. Perhaps, she could work.
Sisters discuss a mysterious boy
“So Dolly, d’ya talk to anyone today?”
Felicity asked Dahlia as the two sisters sat in a café right off of campus.
“I talked to this boy, Remiel.” Dahlia grimaced.
“Really?” Felicity lowered her head as she twirled a few springy coils of her own jet black hair, “What’s he like?”
“I didn’t quite know what to make of him. He’s reading a gothic novel too, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he enjoyed it or because his aunt made him do it.”
Her sister raised her eyebrows and offered a questioning gaze, “What else d’ya know about him?”
“Not much actually.”
“D’ya take a class together?”
“No, but we just struck a conversation in the dining hall.”
Chance Encounter at Bookstore Café
Dahlia entered the campus bookshop. The first floor’s center had tiled floors, but deep blue carpet covered the section with the university-branded apparel. Two escalators reached to the building’s second floor. A spicy aroma of the café surrounded Dahlia as she walked to a register in the bookstore.
“Good afternoon, may I have a Dutch Truffle Gateau?” Dahlia paid for her treat using her debit card and took a seat at a table in the café area after the cashier nodded and produced the requested item. But she flinched as she turned back to face the escalators, as she was about to bite into her dessert. Remiel was coming from the second floor.
Was Remiel following her? She lowered her brows at the thought, before she bobbed her head.
If he came from the second floor, that meant he was there first. Still, she could not help but shoot a glance at the suspect. As once he saw her he yelled, “Dahlia!”
“Remiel, what are you doing here?”
“I was checking out what books were on sale. I wanted to see if they had any of the classics my aunt suggested.”
“Your aunt?”
“Yeah, I even saw The Iliad, but I already have a clothbound copy at home, so I decided not to buy it.” He shook his head, “I was a bit disappointed, the Trojan Horse wasn’t more important but considering the Greeks built it, it really ought to be called the Greek Horse.”
“I see your aunt’s advice on books sometimes misleads you?” Dahlia chuckled.
“Most of the time when I read a new book, it’s ‘cause she recommends it. She has very eclectic literary tastes.”
“D’ya live here with your aunt?”
“Yeah, my sister and me, we’re staying down here with our aunt for the semester.”
“You’re not from here,” Dahlia stated, his accent had made it quite clear.
“We’re from New York, originally.”
“From New York to Louisiana, that’s quite the distance,” She wrinkled her brow.
“Yeah, it’s crazy, though there’re some similarities, there’re some things culturally that are so different it almost feels like I’m dreaming.” His breaths slowed and deepened.
“It must be beautiful in New York during the winter, like a fairy tale. I heard that y’all get to experience all four seasons.”
“New York is like a fairy tale alright, half the year we’re burdened with perpetual winter by a terrible queen, I’ve learned to appreciate the year-round sunshine here.”
Dahlia had detected a peculiar but soothing atmosphere around Remiel when she first encountered him, but it seemed more intense now.
“It’s great to see you again Remiel.” She started leaving but paused.
Should they exchange numbers? She didn’t really know this guy.
Yet somehow she could not help herself, “Can we exchange numbers?”
Remiel nodded, and the two students swapped numbers.
“What’s your major?” Dahlia queried.
“Business, I’m a sophomore. I’ve been doing well so far, but that Biology class.” He tossed back his head, “I keep getting deductive and inductive reasoning mixed up.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon Remiel, if you can read The Illiad, I know you’ll be able to figure it out.
For a brief moment, Dahlia believed she saw Remiel’s face turn the color of mahogany.
“I’m pursuing the B.S.Ed major, by the way, sophomore.”
Awkward lunch, alien reveal
The next Monday, in the late morning, Dahlia stood outside a fast casual campus eatery. She and Remiel had agreed to have lunch that day at 11:10 a.m.
A lunch between friends, not a date.
Dahlia’s neck stiffened, she recalled how earlier, Felicity had asked her if she was planning to wear cosmetics. It was warmer that day, 65 degrees, so Dahlia wore jeans and a knit sweater. Dahlia glanced at the time on her smartphone: 11:03 a.m. She smiled slowly seeing him approach.
“You came early.”
“My English composition professor let us leave early.”
LED pendant lights hung from the ceilings of the cafeteria which seemed to stretch on forever, every several feet, white columns extended in the same direction of the lights. Between the various restaurants there were several square tables, each surrounded by a few blue Zeng stack chairs. The warring scents of seasoned meats, cheese, and iron struck the visitors.
Dahlia had ordered a burger with French fries, while Remiel had ordered two boxes of fried chicken tenders, six tenders in total. After both students had receive their bags, they took a seat at one of the nearby tables.
“Mmm, the chicken’s good,” Remiel said taking a bite out of one of the tenders.
“How was your class today?”
Remiel, rather than answering her question, stared at her burger his hands trembling. “That burger kinda tempted me.”
“What stopped you from buying it?” She held firm eye contact with him, wondering what to make of his trembling hands.
“I’m on a carb-free diet.”
“So you’re only eating meats, fish, and eggs?”
“I read it improves your cardiovascular health.” He tore into one of his chicken tenders with his teeth.
“Are you like an athlete or something?” She asked before taking a bite out of one of her French fries.
“No, but I do HIIT workouts.”
A questionable mix, a low-carb diet, could lead to fatigue.
“That’s fascinating. I sometimes do dance workouts.” She then took a big bite out of her hamburger.
“Dahlia, I—” he cleared his throat, “After lunch, I wanna tell you something. Something that I ought to have told you earlier.”
Dahlia felt her fingers turn cold.
What could he want to tell her? He wanted to clarify they must stay friends? Or did he want to clarify he didn’t find her attractive?
Dahlia gave him a wink. “Alright then. Whatever you need to tell me, you can tell me, Remiel.”
After they had finished eating, Remiel tossed his trash in a nearby trash can Dahlia dropping hers in the same trash can. The two then sat back at the same table.
“So whatcha wanna tell me?”
Remiel bit his lip and extended his pinkie towards her, but he was fidgeting.
Dahlia wondered, was he attempting to make a pinky promise? Her heart raced. All that fanfare, and he just wanted to lock pinkies? How underwhelming.
Yet despite herself, she linked her pinky her body heat increasing.
Don’t be alarmed; although I’m currently visiting this realm, I’m not a native.
Dahlia felt a pain in her chest trying to process Remiel’s previous statement.
Not a ‘native of this realm’ is he crazy or high? She wondered.
Dahlia shook her head, He’s insane.
Remiel shook his head, Dahlia, I can’t get ‘high’, you may’ve misunderstood me. I come from another dimension, and I was sent here to protect you.
She shook her head thinking, Was that supposed to be some kinda pick-up line? Dahlia came to the sad conclusion Remiel must either be a complete pick-up line beginner or a complete idiot.
“Please start talking sensibly again, or I may have to block your number.”
He pinched his lips together. I was not using pick-up lines.
His thoughts seemed to reverberate in her head.
There’s no way he’s serious. That would mean he’s saying he’s an extraterrestrial!
She could not help but share a pained glance with the poor guy, “Remiel, were you just tryna make a joke?
If he was only joking then I was totally overreacting.
Dahlia felt a burning within her throat, “It was nice having lunch with you, really.”
Remiel’s face turned mahogany once more smiling, “Sorry for scaring you. As I did sound a bit too serious, your concerns were perfectly valid.” All those words, as absurd as they were, he had spoken them. They couldn’t really have resounded in her head.
Dahlia smiled back biting her lip and they exited the cafeteria together.
“It really was good meeting with you today, I’m heading to the geosciences complex to study for my history class. Wanna come?”
“Sorry, I gotta head back to my aunt’s place.”
“Well alright then, see you later,” Her resonant voice called.
“Same,” his warm voice said.
Vanishing act in honors college
As they parted ways, the young man approached a rebirth-style chateau, or was it a Renaissance style? The headquarters for the university’s honors college. A gray mansard roof crowned the historic brick building, and a nearly two-story-tall palm tree stood stiffly a few feet away from the door. He entered through one of the double glass entry doors. The first floor’s interior featured an intriguing stylistic duet between a modernized academic building and a Normandy chateau. Remiel went to the men’s restroom door after climbing the L-shaped stairs to the second floor. He listened from outside to see if it was occupied, but when he heard it was empty, he went inside, his lips pressed together tightly.
Was he moving too quickly by attempting to share his true purpose for being there to the Sun-Maiden? But his chest loosened. Even so, he must share with Lady Kaliragel everything that he had learned about the Sun-Folk today.
He took a brief look at his right ear, and touched his gold earring. The moment that he touched his ring he immediately vanished without a flash or a noise.
Joper apologizes for mission failure
When he reappeared, he was in the marble-floored sitting room of his Superior, Lady Kaliragel. She and her eldest daughter sat at a round low table in the room, enjoying a fragrant brew of tea.
“Joper, how was Hatchett’s progress with Baptiste today?” She queried in an icy tone.
“Lady, I apologize, but I believe that I may have revealed his true intentions too soon. Baptiste misunderstood and thought Hatchett was flirting with her.” Joper kneeled before his elder, Kaliragel, in apology.
“Rise Joper.” The noble woman shook her head.
“Lady Kaliragel, I apologize,” he said continuing to kneel.
Kaliragel ran her fingers through her hair, “An abundance of apologies are quite inefficient Joper.”
“It’ll be alright,” said Etafa, Kaliragel’s eldest daughter and Joper’s cousin.
“You may have made a mistake, but I’m certain you’ll feel better if you have a tea and we’ll play a strategy game together, one of the Sun-Folk’s.” She put a hand on one of Joper’s shoulders, “Everything will turn out well with Baptiste, and you’ll find the other two participants soon.”
“One of course will be the candidate.” Her mother said, “Perhaps you should use your wonder to share the truth with Baptiste.”
Using his wonder on Baptiste? Would that be too intrusive?
Etafa still had a hand on one of Joper’s shoulders, in order to communicate with him telepathically, I understand it may seem intrusive but we must prioritize Mother’s research.
She then said out loud, “Together we’ll find the right candidate I just know it.”
© 2026 Kiah Lewis