FLASHBACKS will be signaled.

1:23 in the afternoon, and Jackson was dying of boredom.

The bus was his prison, one that was steadily moving at one mile per hour. The seats, though comfortable, were spall with plastic dividers that made positioning limited. The air conditioners dripped with water and only seemed content to blast cold air, and though it didn't bother Jackson during the day, last night he had curled in his seat to get warm. The windows were thin and the driver was the loudest man on the planet. He nearly had to blast his iPod to full volume to block out his boisterous tales completely. The people were alright, though few. Six people remained: himself, a silent woman, a grandmotherly woman with a giant red purse, a guy who snored like thunder, and a couple who couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Winter around these parts, he was told, was particularly frigid, but snow was unheard of. So sure, expect the possibility of frostbite and hypothermia, but no snow. The windows were fogged to near-opaqueness and when he removed his head from the one beside him, his wet hair left a stringy silhouette. He readjusted his earphones and focused on the passing trees.

He'd get off at the next stop; maybe get the next bus if he wasn't satisfied. Or, alternatively, he would stop in this town tonight and get a room at an inn. He had enough money for it, surely. The question was, where he would find an inn and if there were any rooms available.

At green sign approached on the side of the road, and he craned his neck to read it.

Welcome to Burgess!
Enjoy your stay!

He rolled his brown eyes instinctively. That sounded like something the innkeeper would say.

The first signs of civilization came into view. Hickory and pine trees, electricity poles, and a few solitary houses began to pass. Jackson removed the earphones from his ears and tucked them and his iPod into his satchel pocket. The bus came into a street—an actual street—and turned to face a fork in the road. The bus slowed and, with a hiss, came to a halt.

Jackson and the other passengers stood and gathered their things. He opened the compartment above him and pulled out his duffel bag. It contained his clothes, toiletries, and shoes. His satchel held his laptop, iPod, chargers, and other miscellaneous. The bag was heavy, as was the satchel, but he couldn't afford to lose either of them. The bus would leave in thirty minutes, but he was taking them in the case that he stayed for the next bus or the bus after or the bus after.

Jackson exited and experienced the foretold cold of Burgess. Within seconds, his ears and nose stung with cold, but he wasn't bothered. He went for the nearest curb and entered the first building available. Heat welcomed him, as did the chime of a bell. It looked like an inn lobby—great—but there were no others in the lobby. There was a single, small blond man sitting behind the reception desk, snoring softly. He didn't stir at the bell and Jackson didn't feel like waking him.

He pulled a sweater and his blue jacket from his bag, as well as a pair of gloves. He pulled them all on and zipped the bag close afterwards.

The street of Burgess was rural and rustic, with shops and other buildings, all made of brick and pressed against one another, a few alleys wedged in here-and-there. Some signs were painted to the windows; others were painted to pieces of wood and hanging before the doors. Cars passed by on the streets, and the traffic lights flashed in rhythm.

He had enough time to walk around, he decided. He turned down the sidewalk and decided to find a map more than anything else at the time being. He'd find a map and—

A paper hit his shoe, and he stooped down to pick it up. His dark eyebrows furrowed at the picture drawn on it. It looked like a fair sketch of some large, furry creatures similar to yetis.

"Excuse me! Sorry! I didn't mean to drop it…"

Jackson turned to the source of the voice, a small young boy with messy brown hair and large brown eyes. He was holding a small book under his arm, with papers folded between the pages. He took the paper from Jackson's hand and said, "Sorry. I was—"

His eyes rose to Jackson's face, and for a moment, he seemed speechless. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes widened. His mouth moved in the formation of words, and after a moment, he said, "Hi."

Jackson paused. This kid seemed particularly shy. "Hi."

"You must be new here."

"Nope, I'm just passing through on the bus."

"Can I help you with your bag?"

"No, it' fine, I—"

The boy moved forward and took hold of Jackson's duffel bag, taking it himself. Jackson felt uncomfortable with strangers—children regardless—taking hold of his possessions, but in the end, he simply said, "Okay…"

"I'm Jamie Bennett. I live here."

"Jackson Overland, and I do not live here."

"I know. Burgess is big, but everyone knows each other. Mr. Mansnoozie owns that inn, and Aster owns the flower shop. We have a lot of things in Burgess, like the college, the bakery, the library, and we have a hospital, too, but it's kind of far from here…"

Jamie folded his paper and tucked it into the pages of his book. When he folded the cover back, Jackson read the title out of curiosity. They're Out There—Mysteries, Mythical Creatures, and the Unexplained Phenomena. "That looks interesting. Good book?"

Jamie smiled, as if pleased with the question. He nodded and turned to a bookmarked page. As he flipped the pages over, Jackson saw that he had drawn notes and pasted Post-Its to various pages. "It's about all the mythological creatures and beings in existence." He flipped through the pages some more, stopping sometimes. "My friend gave it to me. I've got everything about elves, fairies, and trolls in here. I make notes every time I find something new. Like, fairies don't really look like people; they're kind of like hummingbirds."

Jackson nodded just to amuse the kid. Of course, he didn't believe in those fairy tales. There was no Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy, no Bigfoot or Santa Claus. But he wasn't going to bring a child down from believing that. "And who are you looking into right now?"

Jamie smiled as if he were just waiting for Jackson to ask. He turned to another bookmarked page and flipped it open. Inside, Jackson could see black scrawl, snowflakes, and aged drawings of a white-haired male. "Jack Frost. He's an ice elf and he—"

"Jamie!"

They both turned to see who was calling. It was a middle-aged woman in a sweater, coat and jeans, with long ponytailed chocolate hair and brown eyes just like Jamie's. She was fastening a fidgeting blonde girl into a car eat inside a blue minivan. "Come on, sweetie, we'll be late for your appointment!" The woman paused at the sight of Jackson, and her lips pursed.

"Coming, Mom!" Jamie looked up at Jackson with alarming urgency. "How long are you going to be in town?"

"Um…I guess I'll be staying for today…"

"Great!" Jamie removed Jackson's duffel bag from his shoulder and passed it to him. Jackson took it, still curious to as why a kid he had just met was so eager to see him. "Meet me at the diner in an hour! It's called The Clover, alright?"

"Uh…Jamie, why do you want to talk to me so bad?"

"We have a lot to catch up on! Just meet me in an hour!"

He climbed into the blue minivan without another word. His mother scolded him for talking to strangers, but Jamie's only reply was a half-hearted 'okay'.

But the way Jamie said 'We have a lot to catch up on!' made Jackson think that they had met before.

"Jackson Overland? I've never heard of him."

"He's new in town. He came in on the bus, and he says he'll be staying for today."

Dr. Thaddeus Ombric nodded and pushed his half-moon spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. Jamie didn't know how old Dr. Thaddeus was, but he was old enough to have lengthy crow's feet and a snowy beard so long that it came down to the waist of his pants. In his long, robe-like white laboratory coat, he almost looked like a wizard.

Dr. Thaddeus scribbled into his clipboard. He clicked his pen—he did so every time he finished a line—and lifted his watery blue eyes to Jamie. "And who do you think he is?"

Jamie immediately opened his book and turned to the bookmarked page. He turned it around and pushed it towards Dr. Thaddeus, who took it in his wrinkled hands.

"Jack Frost?"

Jamie nodded vigorously. Dr. Thaddeus was used to this, asking Jamie Bennett who he thought the residents of Burgess "really" were, but he hadn't seen him so excited about it before, not even when he said that the innkeeper was The Sandman. "He's here! He's finally here!"

"You were expecting him?"

Jamie sighed. This was the 17th time (he counted!) that he had to tell the tale to Dr. Thaddeus. But a moment later, his excitement was at full throttle yet again. "Yes! Remember? He was the one who saved me! He's the one—"

"—who will help you save us all." Dr. Thaddeus nodded and scribbled on his clipboard again. "Yes, I remember now. He's the one who saved you from the darkness."

"Yes! And now that he's here, I can save everyone and they can all go home! Things can go back to the way they used to be!"

Dr. Thaddeus scribbled in his clipboard.

"You don't believe me."

"Jamie, I'm not here to encourage these fantasies, I'm here to end them."

"They're not fantasies! He's Jack Frost, Aster is the Easter Bunny, and you're—"

"Father Time, I know! I know. But, Jamie…" Dr. Thaddeus removed his spectacles and rubbed his temples. Arguing with Jamie was equivalent to arguing with a brick wall: Pointless and…weird. "Have you been taking your medication?"

Jamie sat back on the comforter with a huff.

"Jamie, this is for your own good."

"No, this is for my Mom, and my classmates, and everyone else who thinks I'm a freak."

"Your mother is worried about you, Jamie. She's taking this just as hard as you are."

Jamie looked Dr. Thaddeus up and down, as if taking him in. "If I was your son and this was still going on, what would you do?"

"I would have no problem with it and listen to every tale you had to tell. But you're not my son, and your mother doesn't have that opinion. That's why you have to come in here Monday through Saturday."

Jamie leaned forward. "So you don't think I'm crazy?"

Dr. Thaddeus leaned forward as well. "Not any more than I am."

He chuckled, and Jamie giggled.

The door opened then, and Jamie's mother entered the room. Dr. Thaddeus frowned and leaned back at once, but Miranda Bennett noticed. She frowned at the umpteenth time that she had caught Dr. Thaddeus and her son playing around instead of having an actual appointment. "Good evening, Dr. Thaddeus."

"Good evening, Miranda. You know I don't like intrusions on my appointments."

"It's been an hour. The appointment time is up."

Jamie picked up his book and darted past his mother for the door. Miranda turned to Dr. Thaddeus with a scrutinizing glare. Dr. Thaddeus fidgeted. "Yes?"

"Thaddeus—"

"He's a boy, Miranda. He's a child. There is nothing abnormal about believing in mythological creatures! You believed in them when you were his age, I'm sure."

"That was different, Thaddeus. That started when I was five and ended when I was eight."

"Are you saying that it's abnormal at the age of eleven?"

"No, I'm saying it's abnormal when it's been going on his whole life. Thaddeus, the first time he began to draw real pictures, he was drawing these things, these…creatures, and it was like it was from memory. He was drawing the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy before I even told him about them!"

"He may have heard it from his preschool teacher, no?"

"Thaddeus…For the past eleven years, all I have seen is him talk about these things. He's drawn pictures, made books, and collected every feather and hair he comes across. The kids at school, they pick on him. The mothers whisper every time we go somewhere. He's convinced that every person in this town is some kind of wizard or whatnot. And ever since Nicholas gave him that book, he's been defending them with his life! I'm not paying you to giggle and laugh along with this; I'm paying you to end it. The next time I come in here and see you not doing your job, consider yourself fired."

"Miranda…in the words of a giggling, laughing doctor, maybe you should stop sending a eleven-year-old to therapy sessions and actually talk to him yourself."

FLASHBACK

"Jamie…you drew Santa Claus again?"

Jamie's face fell. His mother's comments of his drawing had been slowly decreasing. It had gone from an encouraging "That's cool/good, Jamie" to a half-hearted "That's nice…", and now he was being asked why he continued doing these pictures.

Miranda scooted away from her computer and shook her head at the drawing. Other kids her son's age drew dinosaurs or robots or zombies or whatever was reasonable, but no, her son liked to draw Santa Claus in the middle of July. And it was not a jolly, rosy-cheeked, cookie-eating Santa Claus, no. This Santa Claus had two swords, an army of yetis, and a sled like a military jet plane. And the Easter Bunny was six-feet-tall with boomerangs and living eggs. And the Tooth Fairy was a hummingbird-woman with wings like a bug…

"Jamie…you have to learn now that all these beings, Santa Claus and the Sandman, they aren't real."

"Yes they are. I've met them, and so has Sophie! The Tooth Fairy—well, she likes to be called Tooth, but anyways—she lives in this huge palace above the clouds."

"Jamie—"

"And the Sandman has this golden sand that he can use to make anything."

"Jamie—"

"And Jack Frost, he has this wooden staff that he uses to—"

"Jamie!"

"What?"

"Enough, Jamie. Enough with all of this. I don't want to hear it anymore."

"…But…But they're real! Jack's going to visit me tonight and…"

"Jack Frost does not visit you, Jamie. You're just having the same recurring dream over and over. I told you, we're going to go see Dr. Leonard tomorrow."

"I don't want to go see a doctor! I don't need to!"

"Jamie, stop! Ever since I said that one time, 'Jack Frost will nip at your nose'—"

"Stop saying that! You know he doesn't like it when people say that!"

"Jamie…"

Jamie turned on his heel and stormed out of his mother's room. His mother called after him, but he didn't turn around.

He felt his eyes and throat burn with incoming tears. Jamie wished that his mother could see what he saw. He wished that he could introduce her to Jack. But Jack said that adults couldn't see the Guardians because they didn't believe in them. He said that "Believing is seeing", as North put it. He said that the reason the Guardians weren't supposed to be seen by children or adults was because, well, if they were in the middle of a working night and had to deal with an excited boy or girl, they'd be set back. But North let him visit Jamie, since Jack could do his job whenever he felt like it.

"Jamie?"

Sophie's head peeked around the corner of her bedroom door. Her unruly blond hair swayed as she padded over to her brother. "Why Jamie sad?"

"Not now, Sophie."

"Why Jamie so sad?"

Jamie felt that anger burn in him, that anger when you were upset with something and got annoyed with every little thing that happened. He was about to tell Sophie to leave him alone and go to her room, but instead took a deep breath. "Now now, Sophie, okay? It's nothing."

"Okay, Jamie…" Sophie whispered before padding back to her room. Her pink cardboard wings swayed on her back.

Jamie entered his room and shut his door without slamming it. He made way to his bed, and paused when he was about to sit down. The wall around and over his bed was packed tight with pictures he had drawn. Not a single inch was left exposed. He thought that they were good, that they were just like Jack told him. He drew the Guardians, and the Mini Fairies, and the Eggs, and the Yetis…

…And yet, every time his mother saw them, she shook her head to herself and avoided looking at them.

A knock at the window caught his attention.

Jack hovered outside the glass, his pale knuckles tapping against the pane of the window. He was learning to phase through walls—Tooth had mastered such a skill a long time ago and was teaching him how—but for now, he needed open windows to get inside. As Jamie approached, Jack noticed his fallen demeanor and tilted his head to the side.

Jamie opened the window, and as Jack entered, so did a gust of cold air. Frost curled on the glass at once. Jack stood on the carpet with his bare feet and held his wooden staff close as Jamie shut the door again. His blue eyes took the boy in. "What's wrong, champ?"

Jamie shook his head and went back to his bed. Jack jumped up and sat on the hook of his staff with the balance of a cat. "It's my Mom again."

"Ugh, the No-Nonsense Queen?" Jack rolled his eyes and put on a fake feminine wilt. "'Put on your coat, Jamie, or Jack Frost will nip at your nose.' I don't even get it! What does 'nip' mean?!"

Jamie chuckled shortly. Jack could tell that no joke was going to lighten him up, so he stood by the bed and leaned on his staff. "What did she do this time?"

"She's taking me to a doctor tomorrow to talk about my 'recurring dreams'. She won't listen to a word I say."

"Adults are weird," said Jack. "They're all egocentric. And just because someone says something isn't true, doesn't mean it isn't."

"She says I'm getting too old for this."

"Age does not define truth. Like North would say." Jack put on a fake Russian accent for the next line. "'Truth is like wind. You cannot see it, but it is there.'"

Jamie laughed at the impression as Jack sat down next to him. "Don't worry, Jamie. The others and I are still here."

Jamie nodded. Even if his mother didn't understand, he knew what was real and that would be that. He just needed to learn how to be satisfied.

Jack's comment made him recall something. "You're here earlier than usual. What's wrong?"

Jack's serene smirk vanished. He frowned, looking away from Jamie for a moment. When he looked back at him, he stood up from the bed and took hold of his staff.

"We need you at the North Pole."

MYTHOLOGICAL BEING ALREADY LISTED:

Tooth Fairy

Easter Bunny

Santa Claus

Sandman

Jack Frost

The Bogeyman

Mother Nature

The Fates

The Leprechaun

The Groundhog

Cupid

Baby New Year

Father Time

Mother Goose

If you would like to extend the list, please do so.