Hello again. I'm not sure if any of you have read my other story, That One Night, but this has nothing to do with it. A short story written while on vacation and inspired by the thoughts of a friends comic and some original thoughts I had to add to it. Helpful critiques would be very nice. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing.

Calling the Kettle Back

By Kahlii aka Kat-chan Written 8-14-04

It had been a Tuesday just like any other for Jet. The monotonous drone of his day at school had continued like it normally did all day, Monday through Friday. That is, until the little voice in the back of his head had developed a personality of its own.

"You want me to what?" he asked aloud. The little, defiantly male, voice replied.

"Find and retrieve my Tea Kettle" it repeated as it had for the last two hours. Over and over.

Jet scrubbed at his scalp in frustration, although it didn't affect his already messy, medium length blonde hair. "I don't have a tea kettle," he whined and received the same rely from inside his head: "Find and retrieve my tea kettle."

He sighed and glanced around to see what looks he was receiving. Jet currently sat on the front steps of the high school, waiting for his friend to pick him up. Strangely, no one was staring, giving him odd looks, or even seeming to pay attention to him. Perhaps they just took it for normal 'almost-out-of-here insanity'. The life of a senior student at Colossal High was, he assumed, a lot like that of one at any other high school.

Most were likely anxious to get out of the place while the rest were panicking, trying to figure out what they were going to do with the rest of their lives. And like a good 1/4 of his senior classmates, Jet had his driver license but not enough money for a car, which meant that it was nice to be friends with someone who was lucky enough to have decently rich and nice parents. Of which whom he was currently waiting for.

Jet sighted again, giving in to the nagging voice. "Fine," he ground out, "where is it?" Finally the voice said something different.

"In my house, of course. Where else would it be, silly boy?" The voice had changed dramatically. It still sounded like a guy of about 25 but now it had intonation and character too, rather than the annoying monotony of before. "I knew you would come to your senses eventually."

Jet interrupted the voice. "One problem. I know for a fact that there is no tea kettle in my house."

The voice chuckled. "Not your house, boy. Mine."

The blonde balked. "You are me...aren't you?" Again that damn chuckle.

"No, no boy. My name is Richard. A grand count of the spiritual realm. Right now I seem to have misplaced my tea kettle and the higher-ups sent me to retrieve it."

Jet frowned, placing his elbows on his knees and resting his head. "If you misplaced it, what is it doing in your house?" he questioned. Which was admittedly reasonable. How was it possible to misplace something yet know that it was in your house? "And why do I have to find it for you?"

Richard chuckled. That goddamned chuckle. It was really starting to get on the blonde's nerves. "One question at a time, please. And the reason my tea kettle is misplaced in my house here is because I misplaced it in the spiritual realm. So naturally it would end up at my house in the real world.

"As for 'why you'...that's a little harder to explain. I guess you could say it's because you listen."

"This is nuts!" exclaimed Jet, throwing his hands in the air and catching the notice of people around him. "That's it! I've gone crazy!" At this statement the on-lookers shrugged and returned to what they were doing before the outburst. All with one thought: 'another one bites the dust.'

The voice chuckled. Again. Jet was ready to strangle it. Once he could figure out how. "Dear boy, you are not crazy. Consider yourself blessed. You have the gift of hearing. You are special!"

Grimacing, the blonde replied. "Do you know what they do for the 'special' people? They lock them in nice white padded cells."

That chuckle was so demeaning. You could tell with just that chuckle that he thought he was better than Jet. "Then you'll just have to be more careful, yes?"

"I don't want to be special, ok?" grumbled Jet.

The count sighed. It was the first time he hadn't chuckled before talking, so the senior considered himself lucky. "Gifts must not be taken lightly," he warned, "they are given for a reason."

"I don't want it! Just leave me alone!" Jet exclaimed in a not-quite-yell, stood up and marched down the stairs. Jet was slightly taller that the average student his age. At 6' 1", he didn't quite tower over them. "I don't want any of your guy's help. You've screwed up my life enough as it is!"

"How could we screw up your life? We on this plane cannot interact with yours. It is unlikely and impossible for us to have done anything to you." The voice seemed frustrated. Jet still liked it better than the chuckles. "And even if you wanted me to, I cannot go until I get my kettle back, Jet."

The 18-year-old halted. "That's the first time you've said my name."

"That is your name, right?" replied the voice, the smugness had returned.

"You have no right to say that name!" It was a good thing Jet was no longer at the front of the school. He would have really received some looks now. "You killed my father!" Richard seemed taken aback, although it was hard to tell since he was just a voice. "I will never forgive you for taking him from me!"

The voice sighed and the frustration in it was almost tangible. "Look, Jethro, I don't like being in your head any more than you do. Just find the damned kettle and let me stop annoying you."

Startled, the blonde didn't know what to say. After a while he finally spoke up. "Tell me one thing and I will do whatever you want."

"No." was Richard's surprising answer. "I cannot agree to anything like that. I can only say that I will leave once the object has been returned to our realm."

"Fine, then how do you know my full name? Not even the school knows it."

"I cannot say. It is one of the things I had to promise. Else someone else would have been given the job. Are you always this full of questions?"

Jet had to chuckle at that, and was surprised how much it sounded like the voice's. "Only when I have guys talking to me in my head." A person he passed looked at him strangely. It was then that the blonde realized he had been waling the whole time. Towards his old house. "That's was stupid of me," he muttered; truly only meaning it for himself to hear.

But of course Richard heard anyways. "What was stupid?"

"Oh, I started walking to my old house." Jet really didn't know why. He hadn't lived there for over 8 years, not since his father had died.

"Well, you were going the right way. Just keep going along this road and take a left at 108th." Richard seemed to be in a slightly better mood, although Jet could still hear his frustration in the background. The blonde took note of where he was supposed to go and realized something. "That's strange..."

The voice didn't ask so much as make a small 'n?' noise. "That's the same route I would have gone anyways. It goes straight to my old house." An almost inaudible 'ah' was the only reply. The voice seemed to have lost his voice. The quiet hung in between them, more tangible that the voice had ever been. Eventually Jet turned onto 108th and walked a little ways. The voice told him it was the 4th house on the right. The senior stopped in front of it, perplexed. It was his old house.

"Uh, Richard?" asked Jet, but got no reply. Jet could tell that he was still there, just not responding. The voice seemed to be ignoring him. He sighed and started up the steps. The doorbell was quickly rung, but there was no noise coming from the house. Jet guessed that no one was there. He tried the doorknob and it twisted easily in his grasp, the door opening with a small creak.

Jet did a quick sweep of the kitchen but didn't find any kettles. "Try the room at the end of the hall upstairs." Jet knew where that room was. It was the only room he wasn't allowed in when he had lived here. He never did find out why. Jet snuck up the stairs and quickly headed to the door. He paused in front of it, almost expecting to hear his mother's voice scolding him as it always had done in his childhood. It seemed as if his parent's had had a door radar or something. They always knew whenever he was thinking of opening that door.

He opened the door, although some force was needed: it was stuck. Using his shoulder, Jet managed to break open the door. Inside was the room of a small girl. Pink adorned every wall and some little mermaid sheets covered the bed, in which slept a girl of about 12. Hearing the noise, the girl blinked and slowly sat up. Rubbing her eyes, the girl looked around the room and then back at him. "Jet?" she asked.

The blond stood in shock. The girl swung her legs out of the bed and stood up. She really was a little girl, seeming to have just started puberty. She was clothed like any other little girl too in a comfortable T-shirt and jeans. "Looks like it's time to go back, huh? Wish I could stay a little longer." The girl looked longingly back at the bed. She sighed again and walked up to Jet. She peered up at Jet with startlingly blue eyes and the blond found that they seemed to have more weight than a normal girl her age's should. "You've gotten a lot taller," she stated, "is dad there?"

Jet wasn't sure how to reply. Dad? And how had she known his name and why did she act like they had met before? Richard sighed. "Tell her I'm here." Too confused not to, Jet told her. She nodded like that was to be expected. Her light brown, almost a dark blond, hair fell around her shoulders like a dark halo. She grabbed Jet's hand and started dragging him out the door. She looked up at him again and smiled. "It was nice seeing you again." Once they reached the threshold she suddenly slumped over and passed out.

The voice sighed again and instructed Jet to pick her up. "It seems you are doubly blessed, boy. You have The Vision, as well." Jet grumbled again about having 'gifts', but was still too perplexed to really respond. He picked up the nameless girl and carried her out of the house. Once reaching the sidewalk Jet was able to speak up again.

"Where to now?" he asked, shifting the girl in his arms so that she was easier to carry.

"Go to the nearest church. You must return my kettle to me." Jet frowned. This was no kettle and no matter how many people told him it was, he wasn't about to believe it.

"Why should I? This is not a kettle. This is a girl. You cannot tell me she's not, I'm carrying her." The count sighed for the up-teenth time that day.

"I'm not sure how to explain this to you without breaking my promise." Richard seemed uncomfortable now, like he would prefer to be anywhere other than here.

"Why don't I have her explain?" suggested the senior. Jet could almost see the voice shaking his head. "It doesn't work that way. She will not wake again until she has returned to this plane, unfortunately. To the entire world, except you, she is nothing but a kettle."

"Who is she? She called you her dad." Jet was trying to figure out what was going on while he took the 20 minute walk to the church.

"I guess that is safe enough information. She is my daughter."

The blonde's eyebrows drew together into a frown. "But why did you say she was your kettle then?"

The voice sighed again. Jet decided right then that the voice only had two settings. Chuckle and Sigh. "I did not know then that you had The Vision. Otherwise it would only have been more confusing."

Jet shook his head and looked down at the girl in his arms. She breathed so quietly that you could barely tell if she was alive or not. "Why does she know me?"

"That...is another thing I cannot explain." Jet was frustrated with all of the unanswered questions. Normally he had quite a few unanswered questions, but usually that was because he never asked them. They continued the rest of the trip in silence, which was starting to become normal after these types of conversations. They neared the church a few moments later.

Jet entered the building as quietly as possible. He hadn't been here in 8 years and he wasn't sure if there would be some sort of service going on or not. Luckily the building seemed to be empty. "Go place her on the alter," the voice told him.

The blonde frowned, a common emotion displayed on his face: a combination of confusion and frustration. It was quickly replaced with a thoughtful look. "I won't do that..."

"We're this close, why must we stop now?" sighed the count, interrupting whatever else Jet was going to say.

"That we are. If you told me now what was going on there isn't much they could do, is there?" Richard was quiet for a second, presumably thinking it over.

"That is true..."

"Ok, then, I'll start with the first unanswered question: How do you know my full name?" Jet almost sounded like he had been keeping a list written down of all the questions he had asked and that was almost the truth. He had found in the past that he always remembered the questions he asked. It had become habit, he even remembered the ones that he didn't ask but should have. That was mentally labeled his 'list of missed chances'. Jet didn't really know why he did that, it just seemed like he should. He was quickly shaken out of his thoughts by the voice.

"I know because I gave it to you," it stated. Jet blinked. That couldn't be right. His mom had always said that his father had named him, so this bodiless voice couldn't be the man who named him. Plus, he didn't have a sister. Almost seeming to read his mind, the voice continued. "Yes, I am your father. And you did have a sister. She died when you were about 4 and you probably don't remember her."

"But we have no pictures of her in the house. I know!" countered Jet, hand tightening where he held the girl now known to him as his sister.

"Her death hit your mother very hard. She had raised a child for 12 years only to have her die. Your mother was heartbroken and blamed god. She refused to have anything that reminded her of Chris." The voice sounded regretful, like he felt guilty for either his mother's sadness or his sister's death.

"So, you are my father." The count made an agreeing sound. "Then why are you a count? I know you were an average human here on earth." He settled himself and Chris on a pew so he could rest his legs while getting his answers.

"Here in the spiritual plane, heaven I guess you would call it, people are placed in the hierarchy based not on what they were when alive but by how much they achieved. The more you do with your life the higher you are. If you just sat around and didn't try to do you best, you are on the lowest rung here. I achieved what I could and still raise you. So I am where I am. Your sister didn't and so now she is but a lowly Tea Kettle."

Finally it was time for the question that had been plaguing Jet since he was 10 and his father had been hit by that car saving someone he didn't even know. "Richard...Dad, why did you leave me?" There was a great silence in Jet's head as he waited for the reply.

"My time was up, and I knew that. Everyone is placed on this earth with only a certain amount of time. It is what you do with that time that matters," he explained," I decided to use my last amount to save someone that still had time. I was blessed with the gift of sight, just as you seem to be. If I concentrated I could see how much time someone had left."

There was a great quiet as Jet let that sink in. Sitting there, he realized just how little he had done with the 18 years he had been given. That was more than what his sister had had. "How much time do I have left?"

"That I truly cannot say. I have the gift of sight, but as I am now I have no sight. I can only tell you to do as much as you can with the time that you have." The voice seemed saddened. "I must go soon."

Jet nodded. He knew, somehow, that their time was up. Picking up his sister, he stood and walked toward the alter. "Jethro? Tell your mother I still love her and miss her dearly. And tell her that Chris is happy. It will make the weight of some of the years lighter." The blond nodded. He stepped over the barrier that stood between the pews and the alter. A few more steps and he was there.

The senior looked down at the girl he had just found out was his sister. "Hey sis, I hope you do well up there. I never really knew you, but I bet you were the best big sister ever." Saying that, he placed her on the alter. She stirred, sat up, and waved before slowly dissapearing.

"I must go now Jet, I shall see you in your memories." The voice seemed to be getting fainter, as if he was getting further and further away. "Keep your ears and eyes open, and always reach for your dreams."

"Bye, Dad," said Jet quietly, it echoed around the church.

"Goodbye, my son." And with that the voice faded away completely, although Jet could have sworn he heard "become more than the pot you are."

After that, Jet sat in the wooden pews for many hours before finally heading home. He had a lot to think about. He arrived home to a frantic family. He had forgotten to tell his friend he wouldn't be there and hadn't told anyone where he was. After much calming, he gathered his mother and step-father in the living room. "I have something to tell you."

Once they were listening he continued. "Something happened to me today, and I'm not sure exactly what it was. But I promised to pass along a message. Mom, Dad told me to tell you that he loves you a lot and misses you." At this, his mother gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Her eyes watered like she was going to cry. "And to tell you that Chris is well and happy." At that she really did start crying. "That's all of the message from dad, but he told me to not take life for granted because we only have a certain amount of time here on earth. So I decided there is something I need to get off my chest before going on with my life." Jet paused, took a deep breath and told them what he had been keeping to himself for the last two years.

They knew now. That was all that mattered and Jet felt like a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He wanted nothing to regret about later, when his time was up. Till then he would live his life to the fullest, just as it was meant to be done.

The End

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Than you for reading this, I really appreciate it. I'm really proud of this just for the fact that it is a finished story; as in, ended - nothing more to add. And I like it that way. Although if I ever get any ideas to continue it, I might...maybe... If you have anything to say, please leave a review. Constructive Criticism welcome!