Blog Post 6: The Alchemy of Ivy Mae
Title: "A World Without Power"
Jas stood at the window, the frosted glass framing a world stuck somewhere between stillness and decay. The town had grown eerily quiet over the last three weeks. No hum of streetlights, no distant buzz of cars, and certainly no music leaking out of neighbors’ windows. It was just the wind, carrying with it the faint scent of wood smoke and something bitter—fear, maybe.
“Max?” a voice called from the kitchen.
Jas winced. His grandparents never quite got used to the name change. “It’s Jas now, Grandma,” he said, not unkindly, as he turned to join her.
His grandmother, a wiry woman with sharp eyes and a soft smile, set a tin cup of tea in front of him. “I know,” she said, stirring her own. “But I named you Max, and it’s a hard habit to break.”
His grandfather chuckled from his chair by the stove. “She’s stubborn like that. You know how she is.”
Jas smiled faintly. They did know. Grandma was the kind of woman who survived everything life threw at her—from raising a family during a recession to holding the community together when the power first went out. She adapted, but only on her own terms.
“Thanks for the tea,” Jas said, wrapping his hands around the warm cup.
Grandpa shifted in his chair, his eyes scanning the faded map spread across the kitchen table. “You know,” he said, “this isn’t the first time we’ve been through hard times.”
Grandma scoffed. “Oh, here we go. The ‘I walked uphill both ways’ speech.”
Grandpa grinned. “Not quite. But you remember, don't you? Back in ’86 when we had the big freeze? Power out for a week, the whole neighborhood huddled in our basement by the wood stove. We made it then, and we’ll make it now.”
Jas glanced at the map, its edges curling with age. “It’s not just about surviving anymore,” they said quietly. “It’s like… everything’s unraveling. People don’t know what to do when the lights don’t come back on.”
Grandma reached over and patted their hand. “That’s why we need young people like you,” she said. “You’ll figure it out.”
Jas didn’t answer. They weren’t sure how to tell her that being young didn’t make them feel powerful—it made them feel lost.
As the conversation drifted, Jas stared at the map. Their eyes settled on a spot near the center, a small X Grandpa had marked. “What’s that?” they asked.
Grandpa leaned over, squinting. “Ah, that’s the old mill,” he said. “Burned down ages ago, but the river runs through there. Used to be the lifeline of this place. If you ever want to find your way, follow the water. It’ll take you where you need to go.”
Jas frowned. “What does that mean?”
Grandpa just smiled, his eyes twinkling with something Jas couldn’t place. “You’ll see.”