Fate, defined in the dictionary as, "the development of events beyond a person's control". It plays a part in a person's life whether they truly like it or not it's an unseen force that controls us. Blake didn't like the word fate or anything related to the word. He preferred to be in charge at all times of what he was to do with his life. However the chances of him being the last one on earth was 1 out of 7.594 billion people. It didn't make any sense to him, out of all the people in the world why would an unseen force leave him alive. Blake licked an ice cream he recently just made himself while walking around a super car sports dealer. He spent the first week online panicking wondering if anyone at all was online. The second week he slowly came to the fact everyone was gone and decided to venture out. He observed a black sports car with golden rims that sparkled in the sunlight shining through the windows of the dealership. Finishing his ice cream he looked for the keys in an office area. Finding them not too long after looking for them he started up the car and drove right through the window of the dealership gliding between cars parked on the road and stopping at a hill overlooking the town. Pulling out his phone again he decided to make a post again to see if anyone was out there, but then he decided no one would see it. Then again one more time wouldn't hurt he winced a little at this thought maybe he'd let "fate" decide. Even though he still had no believe in the unseen force. Letting out a small breath and sitting on top of the car to get a better view of the city, he pulled out his phone once more and started a personal vlog. “Hello, . . . . .me” he chuckled while staring into the camera. “So it’s been about 2 weeks and no sign of human life anywhere” he hopped off the roof of his sports car and panned the camera around it. “I finally have the car I always wanted, as well as some pretty nice shoes”, he panned the camera downwards saying this. “I’ll update this a little more, I plan on going to a special theme park I always wanted to visit.” he turned off his camera and noticed the sun was setting. Thinking that he should find a nice house to rest in he took another good look at the city and drove off in his car. Fate was a word that Jasmin first thought of when she saw a new post on the online forums. Someone else beside herself was out there, she wasn’t the only one. She sat in shock for some time, thinking of what to say. Until finally she typed what first came to her mind, “and then there were two”. It sounded mysterious given the circumstances, but being dramatic was her thing. Blake was left in non-belief from seeing the message the next morning. Questions fluttered in his mind. Why is someone just now seeing this? Is it a girl or a boy? Where are they? “Where are you located”. Was the question he typed to be sent, but that didn’t seem like enough. So he thought a second more and found a better question “Where are you located/where can we meet”. “Either this was a bot or a real person”, he thought to himself as he replied to the comment on the forum. Jasmin heard a chime while filling her motorcycle with gas, her heart skipped a beat hearing it. Through her excitement she fumbled her phone and nudged the nozzle causing the gas to pour over her phone. A wave of emotions washed over her at once. Surprised at herself for being so careless, optimism that she could just get a new phone easily, and finally anger because she couldn't recall what forum or app she used to communicate with the only other person on earth. There wasn't much she could do about the mistake. It may have been a sign for her not to meet the stranger. Who knows the user could be. Putting her helmet on she started her motorcycle and drove off. At least she can still make it to the museum. Blake looked at the gas mileage as he gunned the sports car down a long stretch of road. He knew these roads and there was a gas station at the next exit so it wasn't long before he took the exit and stopped at the gas station to fill up his car. What caught his eye stepping out was a reflection of light from a bedazzled phone case on the other side of the pump he stopped at. Observing the gas covered phone he noticed fresh tire streaks going out onto the road. His heart began to flutter and a wave of happiness washed over him. It wasn't the route to the theme park, but this could be a sign of someone else being alive.Without a second thought he filled up his car and drove as fast as he could down the road. The clouds began to darken the sky, luckily she made it just in time to the museum. It was her favorite place to go as a kid and just seeing the building brought joy to her face. The rain began to pour down as a storm outside began to brew. She felt somewhat guilty, she was enjoying this all by herself. Her mind went back to the text in the forum, she felt upset all over again. She walked to the artifact exhibit, it was always her favorite. Blake was nearly blinded by the downpour of rain on his windshield. He decided to slow his speed and pull over in the next town he saw. Squinting his eye to see where he can go inside to get out of the rain he saw a museum on the left side of the road. He parked behind the motorcycle and rushed into the building. It was warm in the museum, he rubbed his feet on the floor mat and decided if he could find a gift shop. “Could be some food there”, he thought to himself as he straightened his jacket, shaking the rain off of him. Jennifer gazed at the artifacts deciding if she should take them out to touch or not, until she realized that since she's the only person. There wasn’t any need for her to pay for the stuffed dinosaurs in the gift shop. She unknowingly smiled at the thought and made her way to the gift shop. Blake with a mouthful of beef jerky decided to play with the trinkets in the shop. He bit into another meat stick until he heard a ding from the gift shop's doorbell. He froze in complete surprise with only one question on his mind. What was that? Jennifer walking around the store shelves also froze in shock of what she saw. Without saying a word to each other they both had one phrase in their mind, “this must be fate”.


The home where I grew up was adjacent to a cemetery. Some may have been creeped out by that, but it never bothered us because we used to ride our bikes up and down the smooth paved paths that they installed in the summer of ’97 or ’98. My sister and I spent plenty of time wandering those paths. We used to sit underneath one huge old oak that we called “The Big Tree”, which is what we still call it today because it’s still sitting in the middle of the cemetery; it’s gnarled knots growing thicker by the year. It’s overgrown a couple of the graves that are near it, they were dated around the time of the civil war if memory serves me correct. I used to go sit by it when I was reading, or if I wanted peace when my parents were arguing. They used to fight a lot back in those days. My parents still live in that same house and we have great memories of playing in the cemetery, especially in the winter because they pushed all of the snow that we would get in winter into a huge pile in the empty lot in the cemetery, before they opened it up for burials. They’d take all the snow from the neighborhood and push it into an acre wide and long parcel of land. We used to dig tunnels through the snow and I miss when they used to do it. We used to have sleepovers quite often in the summers, and would stay in one of the pop-up campers that we owned, if for no other reason to feel like we had our own place to hang out without parents buzzing around the area constantly. We’d occasionally sneak out and go wander around, the normal small town kind of stuff. I used to sneak out of it sometimes to go swimming at the high school pool. I’d have to jump the fence to get in but if the cops drove by you just ducked your face in the water and waited for their light to pass over your head, and they’d be on their way. During one of these sleepovers, I brought out my mom’s old Ouija board that I knew she kept hidden under the bed. She’d never been into that kind of stuff to my knowledge, even today she doesn’t like it. It was probably in a box of board games that she’d bought from a yard sale and didn’t realize that the board was in there until after she got it home and just hid it away and forgot about it, judging by the dust on it. We messed around with it for a bit in the camper and tossed it aside when we finished with it. Truth or Dare was the next game and it circled back around to a dare involving the board that still scares the hell out of me until this day. In the cemetery there is an enormous mausoleum that’s open to the public. It sits on the south side of the cemetery and an ugly red roof of imitation half-moon shaped clay tile tops the massive flat grey granite bricks. The door opens to a long, wide hallway lined on either side with the bodies of the dead, walled behind slabs of what looks like white granite with the names of the deceased etched into them. Some of them are from the mid-to-late 1800’s; some are as recent as the early 2000’s. Most of them still have little trinkets and baubles lining the small lip at the bottom of the graves where people have left them, as tributes to their lost loved ones. There are two small rooms on either side of the hallway when you enter, both have been locked and chained for as long as I’ve ever seen them. I used to think there were all kinds of horrors behind those doors, but after finding just the right angle at an old rusted-out keyhole I realized that one of them was actually the parlor, complete with piano where they would hold small funeral services. I never discovered what the other door was for and still wonder. Now, this Mausoleum was scary even during the day because the thick walls dampened all the sound, so even on hot summer days when they’d mow the cemetery, you couldn’t have even heard one even if they were right alongside the building. It was also always cold not matter what, it didn’t’ matter how hot it was outside, that building was freezing cold. It just felt weird being in there and it was one of the few places that we actively avoided during our adventures. We never really talked about how it scared us; we just didn’t acknowledge it was there most days. My sister had dared my friend and I to take the Ouija board to this mausoleum, which normally would have been an easy challenge during the day. But it was night, it was well into the early hours after midnight, and we were not fans of the idea. Sibling rivalries being what they are, we ended up being goaded into at least trying to use the board in there. I can still remember the sound of my flip-flops scraping on the black top of the street as we made our way onward, my friend in tow and both of us trying not to be the one that chickened out at the last second. As it were, neither of us bowed out of the challenge. Ouija tucked under my arm and only a streetlight guided my way. There were no lights mounted in the mausoleum, no electric of any kind now that I think of it. It looked like a rectangular black void cut into the fabric of reality where there could be only nothing, and everything. If we opened the doors far enough, we could get a little sliver of the streetlight to shine halfway down the length of the interior, giving us just enough courage to actually go through with the whole ordeal. I didn’t want to give my sister the satisfaction of victory. My sister and her friend would wait outside the mausoleum while my friend and I would take the board to the very end of the hallway and try to use it to contact someone or something in the building. My footsteps were loud in the night and I could feel the cold floor radiating up through my sandals. It had to have been at least seventy outside and in here it felt as low as fifty. I cast a long shadow down the hallway when I first entered, which slowly bled into the darkness the further I got into the concrete and granite tomb. My friend slunk along behind, prepared to abandon me at the first sign of anything amiss, I’m sure. I can’t really explain the feeling that grew in me as I got further into the darkness, I would call it anxiety but at that time I’d never dealt with it so it’s hard to call it that. I remember feeling almost dazed or in a stupor, like my chest felt heavy and my legs might get tangled. We did eventually reach the end of our trek and we sat cross-legged on the cold floor, board spread open between us. We never got to use the board however, as my sister slammed the door shut at the entrance to the mausoleum. We were too scared to even move, the darkness that had been kept at bay by the incoming streetlight had swallowed us up in it’s inky black. I won’t tell you I wasn’t terrified, because I was, and I knew my friend was equally as scared, his heavy and jittered breathing quickly became whimpers the longer we stood in silence. I tried to let my eyes adjust to the dark, but there was no light to be found, we were in the complete black of night. I felt claustrophobic with the weight of how dark night could truly be in the halls of the dead. It could have been the sounds of his whimpers echoing down the long hall, but the longer I listened, the more it sounded like voices between ourselves and the direction that I believed the exit to be. Sure, it could have been the sound of my own blood pumping through my ears or just my imagination, but I would have sworn I heard footsteps, too. The latch on the door must not have caught completely; because it did slowly creak open just enough for a tiny splinter of light to cut down the hallway at us like a jagged razor. We wanted to move, but couldn’t. I tried to force my legs to cooperate with me, to just get me the hell out of this place, but neither of us seemed to be able to make an escape attempt. The closest concept I can find to describe it is sleep paralysis shared between two people at the same time while neither of us were sleeping. We stood there in terror as we watched the light cut away suddenly, reappear, and then suddenly it was back again. This happened several times before I understood that I was seeing the shadows of people walking from side to side of the mausoleum, like the spirits of the dead going to visit one another in their exclusive land of the dead. I don’t know how long we stood there, afraid to say anything and unable to move, but it seemed like a decade. We just watched as the dark shapes wandered from side to side, back and forth, crossways and long-ways. I was overwhelmed with fear, and although they didn’t exactly feel threatening, it felt as though we had been a part of something we were never meant to see that night. We had invaded the privacy of the dead and we were being taught a lesson by those who believed we deserved one. They wanted us to know that those halls belonged to them once the son sank below the horizon. My sister called for us down the hall, it seems we’d remained inside long enough for her to be genuinely worried about us. It seems like her voice was what was needed for us to shake the strange feeling out of our system, because we were finally able to get our legs moving. I remember just staring at the ground as I ran towards the light, trying not to catch sight of anything that might be lurking in the dark. I couldn’t promise I didn’t imagine it, but I would swear that at the edges of my vision I could see the pleated pants and shoes, black stockings and flats with little straps across them. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut but was too afraid that I might wander off course and run headlong into one of the memorial plates. It felt like miles, but had only been several hundred feet down the cold hallways until we burst out into the warm summer air. I hadn’t brought the Ouija board out with me; I would have to get it the next day when the dead were sleeping. We never played in the mausoleum again after that night, and the Ouija board is still under the old dresser in my old room at my parent’s house, where it’s sat ever since that night. The mausoleum is still there, too. When we go to visit my parents, my son always asks to go look inside of it. I haven’t let him let because I still try to avoid it as much as possible since that night, but eventually I’ll have to face the old ghouls inside my mind again and pay a more respectful visit to the halls of the dead.


“ I know it’s a little different, but that could be a good thing Em. We wanted a change afterall, to make a difference and escape the rat race...well here it is.” Tugging anxiously at her tightly drawn back hair the young woman, newly graduated with her Bachelor in IT majoring in sustainable technologies simply smiled...albeit a little grimly at her fiance as she studied her surroundings. The coolness of the underground dwelling was surprisingly soothing on her skin yet it did nothing for her claustrophobia. When Jake had suggested they try this 6 month project building sustainable agricultural technologies in rural communities Em had jumped at the opportunity. After going straight to university after highschool and spending 5 long years of studying intensely and working in dead end hospitality jobs Em knew she needed an escape, a chance to ‘broaden her horizons’ before she got stuck in the rat race...climbing the corporate ladder and doing what was expected of her. Jake’s proposal mere days before their acceptance into the program had worked well, at least she had someone to keep her sane as she attempted to ‘push her comfort zones’. While she knew she was going to be uncomfortable at times on this trip she had hoped that...well she had assumed that wherever she would be living would be her safe space, a place she could relax and rewind in. She had always been heavily introverted and needed her space. The oddly beautiful yet quirky cavern she stood in had her engineering side geeking out while her more withdrawn persona internally freaked out at the fact that she was expected to live underground for the next 6 months. Jake, being a typical architect, was already running his hands over the copper coloured rock walls, his face slack in pure wonder as he took in his home for the next little while. The only good thing about this whole experience was that she had the opportunity to use her hard earned degree to build an entirely solar powered commercial farm, the first of it’s kind to be trialled in the Southern Hemisphere. The other good thing was that her best friend seemed happy...well ecstatic was the better word. His almost blinding grin thrown in her direction as he started chattering about the ‘miracle’ that was Cooper Pedy had Em’s anxiety slightly releasing it’s hold on her. If Jake was happy then perhaps this trip wasn’t going to be as bad as her inner introvert thought. After the past year’s events...especially his battle with several viruses and his major engineering project, he had been exhausted...drained. This trip was good for both of them in different ways, she just needed to keep reminding herself of that. Especially when her fiancee seemed truly carefree for the first time in almost a year. Inhaling deeply as she attempted to ignore the musty scent of mould and clay in the air she attempted to fake at least some level of believable enthusiasm, at least for his sake. If he suspected that she was unhappy or anxious he would do anything to help her, even if that meant giving up on the experience of a lifetime. As Jake ran her through the more scientific side of the underground housing in Cooper Pedy Em simply studied her surroundings with a more simplistic view, while she wasn’t an artist she could appreciate the natural beauty of the house, of the town itself. Her new home sparkled in the soft yellow lighting, the mineral and crystal fragments embedded within the Earth walls glittering like the incredibly clear Milky way visible through the glass sky light above the dining room. Despite hating the outdoors, detesting exercise and having a unhealthily codependence on her laptop Jake and her seemed to fit together perfectly despite their almost opposite interests. Perhaps this trip was a good opportunity to test how they worked as a couple, as a married couple. Sure they had been staying at one another’s student flats for years but they had never had a house together, they couldn’t afford it...no one could afford a house in Sydney these days, especially near the universities. Living together in...in different circumstances, it would be a good test...a good indicator of their strength as a couple. While her initial view of their new housing arrangement had been negative, perhaps she could see the positives after all...even if it was for her fiance's sake. As the program coordinators left to allow the couple to settle in for the night Em watched in amusement as Jake sorted through the hefty collection of DVDs that were stacked in an alcove carved into the Earthy walls of the room itself, next to the small but modern flatscreen. Despite the lack of reception it appeared that they weren’t at a loss for entertainment. Especially when he held up several boxsets of television shows they had both binge watched hundreds of times before. With a genuine smile Em looked at her future husband as she pointed at the Monty Python box set, it was going to be okay..better than okay, they were going to be great. They were going to have the experience of a lifetime and make great leaps in sustainable farming technologies. “ Apparently the pantry is stacked with our favourite foods, that’s why we had to complete that weird form as part of the application process. I’m going to go and grab us some snacks before we settle in for the night.” Nodding back at him, Em watched him leave the room. Allowing herself a moment to simply relax she headed over to the spacious couch as she wrapped herself up in fluffy blankets, Cooper Pedy’s version of internal heating...a much welcomed reprieve from the rapidly cooling air of the desert night outside. Looking up at the starry sky above her she took in the surrealness of it all...the incredible detail of the twinkling heavens away from the skyscrapers and light pollution, the surprising cosiness of her underground house. The fact that she was about to make a significantly positive difference in terms of environmental sustainability with the love of her life by her side...it made her feel like the luckiest woman on Earth at the moment.


“I am a murderer.” His eyebrows rose, but he stayed planted in the snow, making no move to run. “Didn’t you hear me?” I asked. The truth was out now. He should be backing away, calling the police, running for his life. Why did he just stand there, so aggravatingly calm? “I heard you.” “Then go!” I motioned wildly, towards his home, towards the trees, the sky, anywhere. “Leave!” “Why? So you can hide somewhere else?” Instead of leaving, he dragged a nearby fallen log to my fire, took a seat, and rubbed his hands together over the blaze. The light reflecting off the snow, even at night, was enough to see his face by: concerned, but not for his life. I slumped into my spot, ruffled and unsure what to do next. The guilt and self hatred that had sustained me for so long now abandoned me to fend for myself. I tucked my feet in their thin boots beneath myself, sitting crosslegged, and pulled my toque farther over my ears. “My name’s John, in case you were wondering.” “Maybe I wasn’t.” “If you weren’t, wouldn’t you would have killed me already?” “I’m not that kind of a person!” “So how did you gain your title then?” I hunched over, balling my fists into my worn pockets, feeling the flesh through where the holes in the fabric were, refusing to heat my hands with the same fire he heated his. “It was just an accident.” “Okay.” His voice was still calm, still gentle, still persistent. “Then why are you hiding?” I wished that I could scrub his tone out of where it had wormed its way beneath my skin, but again, my voice played Judas. “No one would believe me.” He shrugged. “Well, you are making it kind of hard, especially when you’re not giving anyone a chance.” “And what if they did? They’d all swarm over me at the viewing, the singing, the funeral. I wouldn’t get a moment’s peace afterwards either. I know they’d mean well but they don’t get it. I can’t handle them. Everyone would be giving me hugs and wanting to cry with me and inviting me to stay at their place and telling me it’s okay when it's not and bringing me casseroles and soup and suffocating me.” He waited a bit. The fire crackled. An owl hooted. “And that’s why you’re hiding out here?” “Is it too much that I just want to be by myself?” He cocked his head. “But you don’t.” I shot him a glare. What did he know? “You want someone to dump on. Just one person who will listen for a bit, and then you’ll gain your strength again to take on the world.” The owl hooted again, waiting for me to respond, but I didn’t. “Finnia, she used to get like that sometimes.” I pulled myself out of my self-pity enough to distract him from it. “Who’s Finnia?” “Well, she was my girlfriend.” “Was?” “Car crash.” “Oh.” “I was the one driving.” I looked up then. So we shared titles. His jaw was flexed as he frowned at the fire. Then he stood up and collected three or four fallen branches, brushed the snow off, and stacked them carefully over the flames. The steam rose from them, the tendrils becoming clouds and seemingly wrapping him into another realm. Then the words came again, just like my first confession. No warning, no grace, no apology. Just betrayal. “Food poisoning.” The mist and all it contained were silent. “I cooked dinner. I loved--“ my voice caught. “I loved to cook, but I was feeling sick, so I didn’t eat. I woke up and watered my flowers, took care of the dog, like I always did. Dad’s truck was still home. I sat in my room, I wrote, I read, took my vitamins. Then I went to check on my sister. She used to always be up early too.” Sobs took over and I tried to shove them back down. “What was her name?” I hated that was . “Her name was Savana.” I took a breath. “She was cold and stiff. I screamed, but no one came. Mom, Dad, my brothers, they were all--“ I couldn’t finish. The lump in my throat choked me. The tears that had stayed deep and dry were now rushing out, and I felt like they would drown me. An arm draped gently over my shoulders. I shrank away, my gut churning. “Stop it!” I tried to shout, but it came out only as a hoarse whisper. “Go away.” I curled into my protective ball, tightening my hands around my knees, wishing that I had eaten too and that this pain, this agony would only have lasted one night. My insides writhed. “Just go away.” His arm lifted. I stayed that way for a long time. The sky was getting lighter before my lungs finally expanded freely, my muscles released their cramped positions. My fire was still going. I was exhausted. My body was unwilling, but I forced it to a sitting position. My head felt like it was made of lead, my limbs of waterlogged wood. My neck was stiff. I tried to roll it, but something caught my eye. I turned toward it carefully. There he was. He hadn’t left. I was too tired to hate him for it. Instead I stared at him, sitting against a tree trunk a little ways off. His elbows were propped on his knees, feet apart, hands clasped together. His eyes were closed, his lips moving. He was praying. That was something I hadn’t done in a long time. I had been too holed up in myself. Why would I want light if I could hide in the darkness? The light hurt. “Yes, it does.” I jumped. I hadn’t thought that I had spoken out loud, but John had heard me and responded. He stood up and took my hands, chafing them with his own to get the blood flowing again. It stung, it burned, but they softened. They recovered enough feeling to sense when a drop hit the skin. I looked up. A liquid streak ran from his eye to his jaw, glistening with the light of the rising sun sparkling over the snow. “I know it hurts,” he repeated. “But it’s the only way you can heal.”


Air slammed through Stella’s throat like an ice pick as she shot up in bed. “Where am I? What’s going on?” She thought, mind scrambled. She caught a blinking out of the corner of her eye. A red blink--what? Oh. She knew where she was. Levi’s room. Of course. His smoke detector‘s bright light might be annoying, but it always reminded her she was right where she was supposed to be. She’d been having another anxiety dream. So intense she probably wouldn’t have recognized even her own room if she’d woken up there. She wanted to get up and walk around. Call someone. Turn on the TV. But the futon was pressed against the wall and she’d fought Levi to get the inside half. She couldn’t risk waking him up now. Besides, he had a test early in the morning. Stella dabbed at the cold sweat on her forehead with the soft edge of her shirt. She tried to steady her breathing. She was disappointed her mind could conjure up images as horrible as what she’d just seen in that dream. That’s when she felt it. He was looking at her. In an instant Levi knew what he was seeing. He was worried it had been happening more frequently, but he couldn’t tell if the thoughts were getting worse or Stella was just staying over more. Right now, that didn’t matter. “Hi” Levi smiled, repressing his intense desire to pretend he’d fallen back asleep. Stella fixed her lips to respond but whatever she meant to say was sucked into the blackness only she saw. Levi recognized her expression. He sensed hollowness taking hold of her. “Alright.” He croaked, shaking the outer crust of sleep off. “Here’s what we’re doing. We’re going to turn this light on.” Levi leaned over and powered up the ceiling lamp. He wished he had a dimmer switch, but for the rent he was paying, he was just glad this apartment had any light at all. “Now we’re gonna sit up.” He placed a hand gingerly behind her back and propped her up with his pillow, knowing full well he probably wouldn’t get it back for the rest of the night. “Ok. Good, you’re doing so good. Water or milk?” Stella shook her head. “Not a yes or no question. You‘re drenched, you lost a lot of fluid. Water or milk?” Stella realized she’d turned this poor boy’s bed into a gym mat. “Water please” her voice cracked, not breaking the thousand mile stare into the distance. Levi slid out of the warmth of the covers and steeled himself against the shock of the frigid bathroom tile. He filled a cup and brought it to her, rubbing her back as she took small sips. She swept a dismal hand over the perspiration puddling around her. “Fuck, I’m sorry I--“ “No apology necessary Stel, I threw up all over your new couch.” Stella didn’t have a rebuttal. She thought she’d done a better job pretending she wasn’t mad about that. “Do you want to talk about it?” “I want to forget it.” “But can you?” “I don’t know.” Levi felt the inertia draining from his body and with it the chances of his falling back to sleep. “What will help you feel most at peace right now?” He asked, pressing the tense spots in her shoulder blades, admiring the gentle curves of her face. He felt cursed in the short term and blessed in the long term all at once. “Just, I--can you do something?” Stella asked, gaze unbroken still. “Sure can.” “Be here when I wake up?” Levi couldn’t protest. He knew how it felt to not want to fall asleep because you dreaded waking up alone. So he didn’t bother mentioning it. “I’ll be right here. Dreaming of you... Or eating pizza, it depends when you wake up” he winked. Stella said something that felt right, but she was so relieved and tired, she would never remember exactly what it was. Levi waited until he was sure she was asleep and reached over to email his professor he’d need a re-test, because he wasn’t coming in that morning. He turned to Stella and wrapped a possessive arm over her trembling torso. Even though his eyes were lead-heavy, he fought to keep them open just to look at her a moment more. He drifted back to sleep, without his pillow as he suspected, to the tempo of Stella’s breath as she finally got a real rest. “Mission accomplished” he congratulated himself as he slipped out of consciousness. There was nothing that could put Stella more at ease than companionship. Although she’d fly into a frenzy of remorse when she finally remembered about his test, almost a week after the fact. And wake him up to tell him so. He would think often of the night, but not twice about the sacrifice. There was no grade more rewarding for Levi than feeling needed.


#Welcome to Micro Monday Hello writers and welcome to Micro Monday! It’s time to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic, you ask? Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I provide a simple constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. This rotates between simple prompts, sentences, images, songs, and themes. You’re free to interpret the weekly constraints how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.**   *** #This week’s challenge: - **Prompt: .** *) created by Trevor Henderson. For extra spook, check out some of the many * - **Bonus Constraint (10 pts):** Story is or contains elements of cosmic/Lovecraftian horror - **Bonus Constraint (5 pts):** Include the word *miasma* in your story Happy Spooktober! We’re really diving into the creepy and strange this week. Your challenge is to use the image and/or legend of Siren Head as inspiration for your story. Get creative and put a unique spin on it! Tell a story that chills me to the bone. Just be sure to follow all post and subreddit rules. I’ve included bonus constraints for additional inspiration, but they are not required (though they are worth points). Also, for the rest of October, you can write up to 333 words! You can check out previous Micro Mondays .   *** #How To Participate - **Submit a story between 100-333 words in the comments below (no poetry) inspired by the prompt.** You have until **Sunday at 11:59pm EST**. Use to check your wordcount. - **Leave feedback on at least one other story by 2pm EST next Monday. Only **actionable feedback** will be awarded points. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Nominate your favorite stories at the end of the week .** You have until **2pm EST** next Monday. *(Note: The form doesn’t open until Monday morning.)* ###Additional Rules - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post. Micro serials are acceptable, but please keep in mind that each installment should be able to stand on its own and be understood without leaning on previous installments. - **Please follow all subreddit rules and be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here; we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. You can find a list of . - **And most of all, be creative and have fun!** If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail.   *** #Campfire - On **Mondays at 12pm EST,** I host a Campfire on our server. We read the stories aloud and provide live feedback for those who are present. Come join us to read your own story and/or listen to the others! Everyone is welcome and we’d like to have you, we absolutely love new friends!   *** #How Rankings are Tallied Weekly points are awarded based on the following system. **TASK** | **POINTS** | **ADDITIONAL NOTES** |:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:| | **Use of the Main Prompt/Constraint** | up to **50** pts | Requirements always provided with the weekly challenge | **Use of Bonus Constraint** | **10** pts | (unless otherwise noted) | ***Actionable* Feedback** (one crit required) | up to **15** pts each (5 crit max) | You’re always welcome to provide more crit, but points are capped at 75 | **Nominations your story receives** | **20** pts each | No cap | **Bay’s Nominations** | **20 - 50** pts | First- **50** pts, Second- **40** pts, Third- **30** pts, plus regular noms | **Voting for others** | **10** pts | Don’t forget to vote before 2pm EST every week! *Note: Interacting with a story is not the same as feedback.*   *** #Rankings for - u/rudexvirus - u/AdiposeRacoon - u/MaxStickies ###Crit Stars - u/Pakonab *** ###Subreddit News - Join to chat with authors, prompters, and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly Worldbuilding interviews, and other fun events! - Experiment with tropes and different genres with the brand new feature on r/WritingPrompts! - Explore your self-established world every week on ! - You can also post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


Somewhere between the space of visible and invisible, deep inside the outskirts of sight, I find my own dream of life. Every season, and specifically winter, I find such joy in peeking into the private conversations of snowflakes as they softly rest on the ground. At the beginning of winter, on the first dusting of snow frost, I am freed from my hidden seed. Brushing off the soft stuffing from my eyes, I stretch out my arms and spin. The frost on the trees is so beautiful. A thin casing of crystal. From a distance, they look like bunches of ivory flowers. As the winter grows colder, and deeper snow piles onto the hard earth, I start my duties. I don’t know who gave me this task every winter. I just know that I have to do it. Under the snow, I dig my fingers down into the soil. Tiny, little holes do my digits make. These are for the little bugs and creatures to hide out the freezing wind. Even though I am so comfortable in the bitter, shuttering gales, I know that some are not so lucky. Shimmering amongst the frost and ice. Maybe on a very cold and early morning, if the sun hits me just right, an animal might see the very outline of my body. Even if I look down, I do not know what my body looks like. I can see rabbits and foxes. Mice, deer, coyotes and so many lively creatures. I can only imagine I have paws like them. Ears and coats of fur like them. But I have no use for them, as I can not be prayed upon. It is becoming a little warmer now, soon it will be spring. The snow I used to skate across is melting. It leaves thousands of broken islands where the damp, yellow grass is waiting in between. Sometimes I envy the grass during this time. To be able to wait peacefully and gently, under the comforting snow. To grow strong and green, to give nutrients to a living being. To be the reason that something procreates and lives. To be the reason living beings are eaten as well. The cycle I watch from a safe distance is cruel, but very breathtakingly merciful. The snow is now very far from its sibling islands. I must jump across the great gaps of eager grasses for only the snow I shall touch. I will finish my last tasks and then I will sleep deep under the blanket of warming soil. I can’t wait to hear the juices of mother earth flowing up to the surface as the life waters rush and pulse past my dormant ears. The spaces of snow are now impassable. I am stuck on a small circlet of leftover slush. I am happy with my work, and I am satisfied with the season. Now to lay my- What is that? Just before I close my eyes, I see a lump on the ground. A small lump of fur. I bend down to inspect, oh dear. It seems that one of the small creatures did not make it through the winter. A deep pit wells up inside my core. I pick up the creature, stiff from its long sleep under the blanket of frost. I hold the creature close. Oh no. Am I so selfish to enjoy myself when there are beings that can not so much as survive in my passion? I am beginning to question the pleasures I’ve taken in my position. What am I? Where am I between the line of living and not living? Such a concept had never crossed my mind. I place the creature down and dig my fingers deep into the earth below it. Come full spring, should the insects find you. Please find comfort in the fact that your death is not a waste, little creature. They need to find you. They need you. Something, other than me, needs to find your sweet body and love you. I love you, of course. But isn’t that how I was made? Or, if I was made even.


Since my last story fared quite well. Here is the spiritual successor  # The eternal battle and Mr. Tibbles The sound of a blaring horn woke me up. I stumbled to my feet, still half sleeping. There was sand under my feet. I was in my pajamas, the ones with Ninja Turtles on and I had my toothbrush in my hand with toothpaste still in my mouth. Seconds before, I had been brushing my teeth and was about to feed my cat, Mr. Tibbles Utterly confused I looked around and could hardly believe what I saw or where I was. An arena. A classical Colosseum-like arena. With what seemed like thousands of fans in the rafters. All of them screaming and shouting like football fans. I was not alone. In this huge arena hundreds of other seemingly bewildered people, animals and aliens just stood around. No one looked like they intended to be there, and everyone was looking around for someone to explain anything. I saw an old lady with a frying pan in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Bacon still sizzling in the pan. A young dude, not more than 17 years old, smoking a joint. He was the only one not fazed by this experience. And middle-aged man with a baby-stroller. Thankfully without the baby although he was screaming the child’s name. On and on the crowd went. Not just people, cats, dogs, snakes, goldfish, elephants and a rather upset looking macaw. I was about to ask the old lady, if she knew what was going on, when another horn tooted. From above a platform descended. Upon it stood a man-sized beaver, wearing a snazzy suit, a cane, top hat and a microphone. The beaver tapped it twice and spoke with a deep and reassuring voice: “Greetings lowly earthling and welcome to the Megadome Megaslam of Beaverville. You are our honored sacrifice for our entertainment. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but they are sadly and surely irrelevant.” The crowd went mad. It was only then I realized that the crowd was made up of beavers snacking on different types of wood. The ones sitting in ring-side seats were snacking on oak while to the ones further up only had plywood. “Now without further ado, here are the rules: Fight or die. Last creature standing, wins” And with that, the top-hatted beaver ascended, and a giant countdown clock appeared. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 And nothing happened. No seemed to move or fully comprehend what was going on. However a twitching paranoia filled my mind. What if this is not a dream, what if this is real? Even if this is a dream, I want to win. I started looking around and people, bears dogs seemed to be intensely looking around at each other. Waiting for who would make the first move. An elderly gentleman stepped forward and with a loud and proud voice bellowed: “We will not be your entertainment. We are free people...and animals. We cannot be subject....” And \*slam\* he went down. Behind him stood the old woman with the frying pan. Now soaked in blood, still dripping with bacon grease. She looked at everyone menacingly and shouted: “BRING IT ON, PUSSIES!” Chaos erupted and all the sudden everyone fought. Cats flew into the faces of dogs in what seemed like a thousand-year-old revenge. The man with the stroller was flailing it around. He nicked a bear by the chin, and somehow climbed on the back of it and bore the stroller into the skull of bear. In that second, I beheld the anger of a middle-aged middle-class white man. Blood sprayed everywhere, people and animals fought and died, and I suddenly remembered that I was not a bystander but in the middle of this fight, armed with a toothbrush. A giraffe caught my eye and galloped towards me, intent on trampling me. I readied myself. All I remember of the next four hours is just pure rage, blood, screaming and despair. At the end of it all, I found myself staring at the old lady. Her frying pan still held like an axe in her deadly grip. Murder in her eyes and the cigarette still lit in her mouth. I had lost my toothbrush, but held aloft the tusk of an elephant. Draped on my shoulders were the skin of the tiger I had disemboweled with my teeth. Only the two of us remained. Gladiators. Warriors. The immovable object against the unstoppable force. The eternal war. I charged, but as I rampaged and she readied herself, out of the corner of my eye I saw my nemesis. “Mr. Tibbles?!?” With the rage of a cat unfed he lunged at me. And in a flurry of teeth, whiskers and a hate of kibble I died.


Today makes it seven months in loneliness and death. Lost in the shadows of the night. I find myself living like a caveman. I can't exactly remember how I got here, but I have a memory that never left. I was taking a nap in the early evening of April 10th 2022, when I heard voices distinctly. Then the chattering became louder. As if to wake me from my slumber. Being young and naive. I sluggishly got up from the couch, without hesitating or even enquiring who was at the door. I swung the door wide open and found two men dressed in black attire with dark shades to cover their strange eyes. I woke up maybe an hour later in this obscure and gloomy environment. I have lived the last 6 months in survival and longing for the presence of a human. "Mia" I whispered to myself. I stood up from the plank and walked towards the wall. Running my hands through the tally marks, I quickly crossed out a definite line. I sighed. I felt my tummy rumble in disapproval. I was exhausted. I quickly grabbed my crafted spear and my sac bag and headed out for another food hunt. I walked steadily through the lonely path feeling every sound and wails of strange creatures. I went further into the forest, the center of the food chain. I quickly picked some fruits and mushrooms before heading back to my shelter. I was almost close to my shelter when I noticed trails of paint leading to my domain. I paused for a moment and examined my environment. "Who's here?." "Anyone?." My voice became louder this time. Slowly, I felt a rage of fear run through my spine not forgetting the eerie atmosphere. I raced down to my shelter hurriedly. But getting there I found my wall of tallies painted out in a seemingly rude manner. I ran towards the wall. Feeling and touching it in a drastic manner. It was gone. Nothing was left. I fell onto the ground in agony. I wept. "It's of no use" A strange voice said. I turned to find a young girl about my height. She looked like a warrior with her boots and a bow and arrow placed on her back. She walked up to me slowly. "Listen, this is not the time to cry." She said with no emotions. "What? Who the hell are you" "I'm Maya, and we're the same". "Don’t Panic.” “I’m not panicking!” “Yes, you are.” “Alright, so I’m panicking; what else is there to do?” She pulled me up. Her grip was firm and quick. She offered me some water from her pouch giving me a stern look. " so what's the name? " "Alex" I replied. "You did this?." "what? Ohh you mean the paint" "no I didn't" said Maya. "then who?" I asked furiously. "You need to calm down Allie" "it's Alex!" I screamed at her. I was pained. She stood up from the plank and watched Me sob. "I'm sorry but you need...... ." "I need rest. " I cut her short before she could say anything. I wasn't in the mood for any explanations. The world that I found myself in is real and I didn't want anyone telling me what to do. I placed my head down and didn't know when I fell asleep. I thought it was a dream but when I opened my eyes I found her staring at me. "why are you still here?." I asked. "because am the only one that cares about you" she said. "ohh really?." I replied in a sarcastic manner. "so tell me, who are you and how did you find me." "told you before, am Maya and we're the same." "what does that mean." "you ask foolish questions. " she chuckled. "can you tell me who did this." I said, pointing to the painted wall. "name's Bryan. Been on his case for a year now." As she spoke, I listened carefully to her accent. I couldn't tell what tribe she would be but it was light and smooth. "a year?." "so you've been trapped here for a year or maybe more." I asked. "Yeah." she replied with a smile. "I know you didn't make that" she said, pointing to the spear. "you're right , I found it here." "you seem to know a lot" I said. She turned towards me, staring into my eyes which made it awkward and weird at the same time. "the world is cruel and filled with insane people." "whoever did this to us will meet their doom one way or the other." she said with teary eyes. "but you can't stay here. There's a Camp with more people like us- and we have a plan". She added. "and you think I trust you? " I said. "You have to believe me. And do not forget that Bryan will be back." "he's just a spoiled kid with problems." She said "you just know little or nothing at all." I was unsure about the situation. It was hard to fully trust Maya but I had no choice. I didn't want to be a victim of another trauma. Being alone was hard and now I found the company of not just one person but people. " okay- I'll go with you. " "only on one condition." I said. "and what will that be" she said. "you'll tell me everything I need to know- everything." She smiled. She trusted me so why wouldn't I do the same for someone who doesn't know me. I watched her silently as she helped me pack a few of my not so good items. I felt a chill through my spine. I sighed deeply. At this point, I knew that I was not only far from civilization but there were more teenagers abducted from their homes for whatever reason. There was no time to tell stories. I couldn't think more of the pain we all felt and the pain of our loved ones. Keeping track of time was my only hope. Now, I found something much better than a wall full of tally marks.


Light settled within my sight as I stepped towards the dying glow of a fire. I watched the flames’ sparks flutter into the sky in desperate attempts to escape their fate, before perishing in the abyssal darkness. Collapsed afore the blaze, I could feel the menacing pain of an arrow lodged betwixt my ribs. I winced as I pulled it from the hole it tore through my torso; but my long journey taught me well enough that pain was only a reminder that I still lived. As I wrapped a cold, weathered bandage underneath the blue fabric of my tunic, I reflected upon the odyssey that dragged me to where I was now. I began as we all did: a hopeful warrior called upon by the blight the Dark Goddess had laid over us. People’s minds would fall apart to reveal a core scorched by despair and madness, leaving only husks that would march these lands in ravenous rage. They dotted my seemingly endless road with death and ruin; shifting my hope from success to survival. But in spite of the horrors I witnessed or the torment I endured, I recognized that turning back was no viable option. Because with each reluctant step forward that I made, the world took one step backwards into irreversible destruction. Now, my track of bloodied footprints had arrived at their finish line. Arrived at this skeleton of what may have once been a great watchtower, but now stood only as a cage to trap the light of a dimming fire. Alas, with what little strength I had been allowed to scavenge, I trudged into the black obscurity. With vision barely adjusted, I could identify the hundreds of corpses of those that reached this place before me. I knew I wasn’t the first, but I hoped I’d be the last. Though the word "hope" itself was only a stranger to me now. But, I had no time to argue with my own thoughts, as the path of bodies had diverged into a tremendous throne room. Amidst the thick shrouds of darkness that layered the air, I could discern an immense figure sitting atop a throne of shattered armor and weapons. Her very silhouette had replaced any true, human-like form that perhaps she once donned. She slowly stood up, exposing an enormous dark blade that lie in place of her forearm. Realizing the threat that was approaching, I grasped the hilt of my sword and swung it from its sheath. My blade arced towards her rushing form, but met no physical resistance. The battle-worn weapon simply passed through the shadows of her towering presence as if she were darkness itself. I froze in a moment of shock, then found myself looking into the lifeless eye sockets of her gaunt face above me. Without warning, I felt a frigid force pierce my chest and I was heaved backwards. Greeted with the uncomfortable cushion of the ones who came before me, blood began to permeate my tunic and pool beneath me. And with that, I was given my final taste of the feeling of being alive... I walk forward, facing down the dark that would dare try to keep me from finding my path’s end. With each step I take, I can see more and more bodies bereft of life. Each one defines themselves with a different armor or different tabard; but inside them, they all carry the burden of a quest failed. Just before entering what I believe to be a large room, I look down to see a warrior, clad in blue, lying inert and painted with the dried blood of defeat. I know I’m not the first to enter this place, but I hope to be the last.


Far into the northern mountains, hidden deep within the snow-covered trees, the warrior clan had made one rare glade into their winter camp. Tents strewn about, warriors of men and women did their part to gather firewood, forage for berries and hunt any wild game that could be found nearby. I had been with Cahal’s clan for nearly three months and while I could now speak in their mother tongue, and even though they saw me as one of their own. Not one of them would allow me to aid them with any chore, at most they would ask me to light a torch and use it to ignite the campfires. Often I had asked why they refused to let me aid them with chores, and the answer was always the same. A thank you followed by comment about how I did not need to help. I was a guest, or that the woman of the clan chieftain needn’t worry about such trivial things. They meant no disrespect of course and I knew that but still... Being among such hard working folk and not needing to lift a finger was quite boring. After being cooped up inside the tent for several hours I had become immensely restless. I had an idea of how I could remmedy my boredom and it would be a good way to kill some time before the evening meal was ready. So I stole my lover’s fur cloak and hurried into the forest. I was glad that the snow didn’t rise higher than my fur boots, otherwise this treck would have been far more difficult. After some time I found myself standing before an ancient tree. Its base was massive and it would easily take half the warriors to form a circle around it. It was wonderful sight, its many strong branches covered by snow, its leaves refusing to budge under the weight. A playful thought came to my mind, one I had not had in many years. Glancing around I knew I was alone and that no creature had yet come to this part of the forest. I strode toward the tree, stopped a few feet from a large root that threatened to burst from the ground. I gave a bow to the ancient Cedar and began to place the cloak along with all of my clothing upon the upturned root. Bare as a newborn babe I turned around and walked away until I was under the edge of the Cedar’s canopy. With a smile, I called upon my magic, I sought after the heat of fire. Just enough to keep me warm. I felt the power of the flames radiating from my belly, like gentle waves crashing onto the shore heat pulsed throughout my form. My arms extended outward from my sides, palms facing upward. My left leg extending forward, then sliding around toward my back. My toes lightly touching the cool snow before diving down to touch the ground hidden beneath. I twirled around to face the tree once more, gave another bow and began to move about in an ancient styled dance. One long lost to the minds of humans. It was a dance of celebration, of life and nature. I moved about to the silent music of the world. I have no doubt that if the faerie folk had been there to watch they would be smiling. To know that they had not been forgotten by all, to see that some of their ancient ways still lived on. I moved about in graceful freedom, with each breeze that came I spun and twirled along with it. If ever I got too close to another tree I would spin and leap back toward the center of my dancing circle. Bouncing from one foot to the other, leaping into the air and twisting about in frantic joy. Skipping around the edge of my circle, arms poised as if I were dancing with another. Laughing and smiling like a fool I became lost to time. Too long had it been since I let my body move about in such freedom. As if giving their applause at my free spirited ways the branches of the trees dipped and swayed. The snow upon their branches dancing down upon the wind that swirled about. Each flake that touched my skin melted away to become one with the earth once more. My curtain of snow only made my dance that much more fun. I recalled a dance I once saw on the road before meeting Cahal and his clan. I stood in place for a moment, hands at my side before hopping on one foot and then the other. A forward leg extension here, a backward one there. To my right then my left, one criss cross here and twirl there followed by another criss cross. The lad had called it a jig I believe, a strange yet fun little dance than many had come to join. I had to admit it was fun to watch but even more to perform. I spun around at the sound of someone whistling. I was greeted by the sight of Cahal, leaning his shoulder against a tree. His head tilted to the side with an amused smile playing across his lips. I had no clue as to how long he had been there, but it mattered little. I gave him a bow and extended one hand toward him as a soft smile crept upon my lips.


The day had started out like so many others before. The sun had come up, the woman had groaned at the sound of her alarm clock, and had pulled the covers back to allow her young, giggling, son to sneak in with his youthful glee and give her enough energy to start the day. After quickly smiling down at her son, she had grabbed some clothes from her laundry bin, telling herself that she definitely needed to organize them later, and walked her chattering son down to breakfast. He was such a sweet boy, she thought, always smiling, always so happy and good natured. She knew that he had all the qualities necessary for a person to live a good life. Her daughter was a different story. As she floated into the kitchen, barely glancing towards her mother, the tone of the room changed immediately. Becoming heavier, more stifled, and more strained. But it was hard to say if anyone had noticed. As the woman poured batter into a skillet, flipping the pancakes in time to her sons youthful chatter, the daughter started to cry. Tears falling down her face slowly and silently, wiped away quickly with a ragged sleeve. But again, it was hard to say if anyone noticed. There was an obvious divide in the room, but one that slipped in easily, so familiarly that those impacted by it had grown numb to noticing it. It was just how things were. It was how things had been for a very long time. The mother quickly shuffled pancakes and toast onto a plate and set it onto the center of the table. She was ravenous, but she did not eat, not until she knew that her beloved son had his fill. The girl silently, her tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, stood up and grabbed herself a plate. Her mother had forgotten again. It was nothing new, and though she was used to it, deep down, it still hurt. She supposed that was why the tears came, though less and less each morning. Wiped away quicker, as she felt herself becoming smaller and smaller, shriveled by her misery and her mothers lack of attention. She choked back a loud sob as the crushing weight of all that she was left alone to feel radiated within her in confusing and painful waves. She was so lost, and so alone. The mother glanced at her daughter for a second, a look of concern briefly darting over her face, eyes crinkling in almost a startled way, before focusing her attention back on her son. The silly little boy was smothering his pancakes with syrup creating a giant sticky mess. The table and floor and his entire body was covered, young boys could be the messiest little creatures! She laughed and grabbed some paper towels and moved to wipe her sons hands clean. Her daughter, with one gulping sob, forcefully darted her eyes in the other direction. Her insides sinking to the messy floor below her. This was the part that she hated the most. She hated the look of love on her mothers face as she moved the towels lovingly, she hated that her mother rarely, if ever, looked at her with the same level of devotion and care, and she hated that she had no idea what to do about it. She hated how this would inevitably break her mother, again and again, day after day, as she realized that... with her hands continuing their sensitive movements, that there was no syrup, there was no mess, there was no little boy. Not anymore. The child who she had loved, who had loved her, and who had filled her home with smiles and laughter was gone. Dead. It had taken just one accident for everything to break apart. And neither the mother or the daughter knew exactly how to rebuild their lives from the shattered pieces. All that they could do was watch. The daughter would watch as her mother drifted further and further away, chasing a ghost that she couldnt let go, and the mother would watch as her daughter became a stranger, detatching from a mother she feared didnt love her. And the mother wouldnt realize that, after the loss of her son, she now feared to love. There would be a moment of recognition in her mothers eyes, and a look of hope, always a look of hope, in the eyes of the daughter. Before her mother would snap back, would decide, that it was easier to focus on what was, then risk the uncertainty of facing what would come from what was left after a loss. The laughter would fill the house again. The sobs would fill the house again. The silence would fill the house again. It would all spin together, circling, disorienting, decaying, and destroying everything it touched. Everything except for the haunting memory of a dead child.


Today was the first day of the rest of my life, or so they say. I was supposed to be getting married in less than five hours. I was at the day spa when I get a phone call from a lawyer’s office. To say I was confused would be an understatement, I mean why would I be getting a call from a lawyer? My fiancé was the one that had to sign a prenup not me. “Hello?” “Hello, I am looking for Aundrea Gillespie.” “This is she.” “Miss Gillespie, my name is Frank Little. I need you to come to my office today.” “Wait, today? But I’m getting married in less than 4 hours now!” “I apologize Miss Gillespie, for the inconvenience but it is imperative that we speak today.” “Well then Mr. Little, you are going to have to come to me. I am not going to leave -,“ before I could say anything else, he cut me off. “Miss Gillespie, the terms of what I need to go over with you state that it must be done in the privacy of my office on May the 5 th at 3pm. Now I will send a car for you but I need you here in exactly twenty-five minutes.” Luckily the nail artist was just finishing with my nails, thank goodness I hadn’t gone to the massage therapist yet. I go up front, pay my bill and cancel the remaining appointments for the day. I then call my fiancé and tell him what’s going on and that I may be late to the church, but I would be there. Just as I disconnect the call, the car pulls up and the driver gets out. He’s sharply dressed, and handsome, but he wasn’t my fiancé. I had to keep my mind clear, and on the day ahead. The driver opens the back door for me, I step in, the door closes and as soon as the driver gets back in the car, we leave the day spa. As I watch the scenery fly by, my thoughts drift to the day ahead. What did this lawyer want? I can’t believe that whoever this guy is he’s taking time away from my wedding. I reached up with both hands to rub my temples, as a world-famous neurosurgeon, I had saved Presidents, CEO’s movie stars, you name it, I’ve operated on them. Because my job is very stressful, I had learned stress techniques that kept me cool and collected, and today was one of those days that I had to use them. The car stopped in front of a high-rise building; another well-dressed man was standing by the curb waiting. As the car pulled up beside this other man, my door opened, signaling that my departure from the car was now eminent. Taking a deep breath to gather my nerve, because I was ready to rip some ones head off, I step out of the car. My Giorgio Armani wide legged organza pants in a dark blue and a shimmer V-neck shirt in black, the bra I was wearing today was a black strapless lace that was seen clearly through the top I wore. I wore comfortable clothes today because I knew I would have to chance into my wedding dress designed especially for me by the best designer in the world. I was still wearing my Elisa necklace & earring set that my sister had given me, granted they weren’t as fancy as what I was used to wearing but they did have sentimental value. The man that was waiting at the curb, escorted me into the building. We step on the elevator; he presses the button for twelve. As the elevator jolts into motion, I’m once again thinking about the day ahead. I should be getting my hair done, the flowers should be arriving, the cake should be coming in an hour .... UGH! I need to be there not here! I needed to get into my gown, I needed to do so many things, just then the elevator stopped and the doors opened. The young man stepped out motioning me to follow, we walked down the hall a short distance and stopped in front of an office with gold lettering on the door indicating the arrival at the law offices of Marlyn and Marlyn Attorney’s at Law. One more deep breath sigh, I open the door and walk in. Even though I knew I was not dealing with one of the partners of the office, I couldn’t help but wonder why I was here. “Good morning Miss Gillespie,” a young blonde secretary said as I walked in the door. I smiled and nodded in her direction. “I will let Frank know you are here. Please take a seat and he will be with momentarily.” She continued. ‘More delays’ I though as I looked down at my Citizen Eco-Drive diamond studded watch. I now had 3 hours before I needed to be at the church. I was starting to freak out, you want to talk about “bridezillas” I was going to turn into one in no time flat if I wasn’t on my way to the church in 1⁄2 hour. “Miss Gillespie?” I looked up and there stood a rather distinguished gentleman, he looked to be in his mid-forties, early fifties. If I wasn’t already engaged, he is someone I would typically date, instead I ended up with a world-renowned heart surgeon. Two surgeons in the household could spell disaster, but I loved him more than anything else in the world. “Miss Gillespie?” he said again, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Yes, I’m sorry.” “Please, follow me.” We walk down a short hall, as we come up to a door that’s open, he stops and motions for me to go inside. I go inside and sit at one of the chairs in front of the well-used desk. He walks in behind me, shuts the door and walks around to sit at the desk. “Miss Gillespie, I want to thank you for taking time out of your busy day to come here today. I know that I didn’t give you much time or too much of a choice, but I do appreciate your cooperation in this matter. Now let’s get to the matter at hand, shall we?” He opened up a manila folder at that point, cleared his throat and started reading a will. As I’m listening to this will, I’m very confused, I have never heard of this person, yet they are supposedly an Aunt on my father’s side. She was someone dad never talked about, being an only child, I rarely heard any stories of the family. “To my Niece Aundrea, I am leaving my entire estate. The Mansion in up State New York, the beach house in the Cayman Islands, ten million dollars, and the brand-new Sportster Jaguar, and the Land Rover. However, in order to receive this inheritance, Aundrea must spend the next 3 months in the Doctors without borders program. She must also give up her designer wardrobe to the women’s shelter before leaving, and go to the local thrift store and purchase an entire wardrobe spending no more than $200, which includes buying new suitcases. You must look the part when you are in a third world county helping others. Use some of your own money and buy the shelter much needed supplies. If these conditions aren’t met, the entirety of my estate including all monies, vehicles and houses listed will be sold and proceeds will be given to the same shelter. Aundrea will have four months from the reading of this will to have all conditions met, if at that time all the fore mentioned conditions are met, Aundrea will, at that time be handed the keys to the mansion, the beach house, both vehicles and the key to the safe deposit box that holds the cash.” As the lawyer kept reading, I couldn’t believe my luck, ten million dollars, a mansion, a beach house, a brand-new Jag and a Land Rover. Getting rid of the clothes and buying things from the thrift store! I only bought designer clothes. I mean the outfit I had on I paid over $3,000 for, this this woman must be crazy. I had heard of Doctors Without Borders but never gave it much thought, I was far too busy here. I could do that after the honeymoon, and maybe I could talk him into coming with me. And then the other shoe drops. “All this must be done while she is single.” “Wait - WHAT?? I’m supposed to do this while I’m single? Not only am I not comfortable with shopping at thrift stores, now you’re telling me I can’t get married??? I am supposed to be getting married today!!” “Well, according to the terms of the will, the wedding will HAVE to be put on hold. You will meet Jeanette at downstairs, she will take you to your apartment, there you will gather your clothes, take them to the shelters of your choosing, and then she will go with you to do your shopping.” He pauses a moment, then pulls and pulls an envelope out of a desk drawer that was to his right. “Here is your plane ticket, the flight is for day after tomorrow. Inside that envelope you will also find all the information you need for Doctors Without Borders, the Visas you will need for the locations you will be going to. Now if I were you, I would get to the church and give the new to your guests and that fiancé of yours. Oh, one more thing Miss Gillespie,” He looked at her rather sternly, “your fiancé is NOT to go with you. Should he be found in any of the locations with you, you will forfeit everything. Understood?” I warily shook my head in understanding. Sighing, I picked up my Gucci purse, and headed out of the office. The terms of the will specified my clothing, it didn’t say anything about my shoes or accessories. Doctors without borders doesn’t care about what I’m wearing, but I’m not going to take any of my nice shoes to Ghana or any place like that. It would be best if I got some walking shoes. By the time I got down to the car, it was raining and not just from my eyes. I gave the driver instructions to take me back to the church, the wedding was supposed to start in an hour, most of the guests had already started showing up, one more sigh, I went to go find Damon my fiancé. He was in his dressing room talking to his groomsmen. Walking into the room, I looked directly at him, “Damon, can I talk to you for a minute please?” Damon looked at me with a worried expression on his face, then he asked “Aundrea, is something wrong?” “I really need to talk to you, alone please.” We walked out of the room together and walked into a room that wasn’t currently occupied. “I need to talk to you about something rather important.” “What’s going on Drea?” Drea was his nick name for me, I thought it was cute and never corrected him. We’ve known each other since middle school, we dated in high school and lost touch after we graduated. Then in med school we found each other again, and we’ve been together ever since. I took a deep breath, and began explaining everything to him. After I got done with the explanation, I told him that we needed to postpone the wedding for 3 months while I work with doctors without borders. I then told him that I needed to explain to the guests that there wasn’t going to be a wedding today and invite them back in three months. “What if I were to go with you? We could do this together” “NO!” “Well why not?” I had to tell him that if he came with me that I would forfeit everything, and that I planned to give most of the money to the homeless shelters here in New York. “Are you crazy?” He exclaimed “What on earth do you mean? That shelter is in desperate need of supplies. All the shelters are in need of help, and if I can help the with the money my Aunt left me than I will.” “Look Aundrea, I know you have a good heart, but this is going too far!” I looked at him with a confused look, he knew I gave to charities every year, so this was nothing new, the only thing new was the amount. “Damon, if you can’t accept this -“ I knew the next words were going way out of my comfort zone, because I had loved him since middle school. I didn’t know what my life was going to be like without him. But I couldn’t stand by and let him dictate how and who I donate my money to. “Then I think it’s time we go our separate ways.” I bowed my head as tears started to form in the corner of my eyes, yet again. “You can’t be serious?” “I am. Excuse me, but I have an announcement to make.” I turned and walked out of the room heading to the chapel so I could make the announcement about the disposition of the wedding. After the announcement, I told the guests that the food was available, since everything was already delivered, and for them to enjoy. I walked out of the church to find the car waiting for me, inside as promised was Jeanette. We went to my flat in uptown New York, pulled out every stitch of clothes I owned, placed them in bags and then went back down to the car. The bags were placed in the trunk of the car with the help of the driver and Tony my doorman. We then headed to Lenox Hill Neighborhood House, New York City Rescue and then to Covenant House. Those were the three that I had chosen for the women’s shelters that I would donate my clothes to. Next stop Housing Works Thrift Shop, I chose them based on their mission. I liked working with places that help people with health issues of any kind. I spent my $200 and actually got some decent clothes, even thought thrift shopping made my skin crawl it wasn’t that bad. We went to JCPenny next and got a suitcase set that we suitable for my trip. Since the Jewelry I had on, minus the engagement ring wasn’t that expensive I kept it on. My last stop was to my bank, I looked at the itinerary for the trip, pulled out some money and exchanged it for local currency, and placed the engagement ring in my safety deposit box. The next three months went by like a whirlwind, believe it or not I loved doing it. I went back home to receive my inheritance and as promised the three women’s shelters that I had chosen to receive a million dollars, I went back to the thrift shop and bought more clothes. Next, I went back to New York Presbyterian and resigned, I found that working with doctors without borders was far more exhilarating that being in the hospital. Next stop was my flat, it was time to pack the things I could take and then sell the items I can’t take with me. I placed my flat up for sale and the mansion, then I listed the beach house as a vacation rental. As for the vehicles I shipped the Land Rover to Syria, which is where I was working the most. The rains made the ground muddy making it difficult for people to get anywhere, so the Rover would help out a lot. It would take about a month for the vehicle to get there, which left time for me to visit the mansion and the Relator. I contacted a vacation rental company and got that all set up, the relator walked through the mansion with me and we started putting the furniture up for sale. By the time I had sold my flat, all the furniture in both places, it was time for me to leave for Syria. I called Damon to say goodbye, I told him that I was going back, that I sold everything I owned. I ended up leaving him a message as he wasn’t answering. ‘Damon, it’s Aundrea, listen I wanted to tell you that I am going back to Syria. I will be working with doctors without borders for as long as they need me. I’ve sold everything, the jag is yours. I left the key with Tony. Good luck to you and good-bye.” Once I boarded the plane, my old life was behind me, and the life I fell in love with was now in front of me. I smiled and looked forward to the future, for the first time in my life.


I looked in the mirror to check my hair. Straightened, just the way they liked it. My nails were painted a soft lavender, and my lips shined with a pear flavored gloss. I had a on a white and blue striped blouse with anchors going down along each side of my torso. God how they loved nautical shit. It had been six months since I last saw them. Texts had gotten scarce and calls were almost non-existent now. They had called me to say they were coming back to town this weekend, and it’s been wrecking my brain ever since. I moved to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of white wine. It was the cheapest stuff I could find, but it didn’t taste that bad, and it got the job done. I walk over to my sofa, and land down heftily. Tom wakes from the blanket he was sleeping on and walks over to my lap. After circling a few times, he finds the perfect spot, and curls up. I run my fingers through his new, thick winter coat. “Where would I be without you,” I say smiling down at him. He purrs, content. Six months... what am I even going to say to them? What could I say to them? I want to see them, but the I don’t think we can go back to how it was before they left. Especially not after the last time we talked. What even are we anymore...? There was a knock at the door, and Tom jumped up and ran off. My heart began racing, trying to keep up with my mind. It’s time - what do I say - what’s going to happen - what if things aren’t the same - what if we fight - I don’t want to fight - do I even want this - was this all a mistake - should I have just ended things over the phone? Three more heavy knocks fall on the door. I stand up, down my wine, and take a deep breath. Stop worrying, and just see how it goes. I walk over and open the door. “Gwen! Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much.” Sam wraps their arms around me and gives me a tight squeeze. The type of hug you’d expect after not seeing someone for six months. I barely had a chance to lift my arms up before they let go. “I missed you too,” I responded, not nearly as enthusiastically as Sam had said to me. “I got these for you.” They handed me a bouquet of blueish-purple lilacs. “Oh, thank you,” I take the bouquet, “you remembered how much I loved lilacs.” Sam moved into my apartment, closed the door behind them and started taking off their jacket. “Of course, I remembered. How could I forget after that time at that park downtown?” “When the florist was out of lilacs, but you saw some on that island in the lake.” “So, I swam and picked you some fresh ones.” Sam smiled, and then hugged me again, this time giving me time to wrap my arms around them as well. “I also got you this.” Sam reached down for a bag they had set down, and pulled out a small, palm sized object. “You said your last one died, so I got you a new one.” Revealing what was in his hand, I saw a little owl, with green leaves sprouting from its head. “A succulent. Thank you, Sam,” I said, stunned. Was I just exaggerating all that had happened in the past six months? Maybe we could go back to how things were. I think I’d like that. Sam placed their hand on my arm and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. “I really have missed you; you know. I know these past six months have been hard, but I’m here now, and I want to work on us.” Sam looked at me with big, soft brown eyes, and I felt like everything he said was with sincerity. “You said that last time you were here too.” I said, moving myself away from Sam. They frowned. Picking up the bottle of wine I had set down next to the couch, I gesture toward Sam, asking, “Wine?” “Yes, please,” Sam said, with a drop of disappointment in their voice. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed an extra wine glass. Entering the other room, Sam was now seated on the couch petting Tom. “I missed this little guy,” Sam said, gently stroking Tom’s fur. I poured both of us a glass of wine and offered them one. “Thank you.” Sam sipped the wine and looked like they were deep in thought for a moment. “You always know how to choose the best cheap wine.” Sam smiled at me, and I let out a little exhale. We sat without talking. Sam petting, and Tom purring. Me, sipping my wine, trying to keep my cool. I wanted to just down the whole bottle, and not have to think about what’s best for me, or us. So, I sat, and slowly drank my wine, staring into space, trying to detach myself from this situation I put myself in. It seemed like we sat there for at least 30 minutes, only sharing the occasional glance. Sam leaned over and gave me a little push. “So, what are you thinking about?” Sam asked, just wanting to say something. They were always like that; always needed to be talking or hearing someone talk. This must have been unbearable for them. “Not really anything.” I responded. “Come on! You’ve got to have been thinking of something. We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes.” “I’ve been... I’ve been thinking about how we could... you know, work.” “What do you mean? We’ve always worked. Why should that change now?” “The past six months has changed both of us Sam. No matter what happens, things can’t be the same as they were back then.” I rest my head on my hand, and look away from Sam, but still facing him. I should have prepared more for this conversation. I knew it was coming, but... “I’m trying to tell you they can. If we just work at it hard enough, we can be as happy as we were.” Sam had finished their wine and was getting fidgety. “I need a drink,” Sam said, without looking at me. “Do you want some more wine?” I offer the bottle to them. Sam waves it away. “No, I mean a proper drink.” “I think I still have that tequila from the last time you were here,” I said with a mixture of worry and disappointment. “That’s fine.” Sam leaned back on the couch and propped their feet up on the ottoman. Tom was no longer by his side. I searched the kitchen, racking my brain on where I could’ve put that half empty bottle of tequila. Then I remembered Jaime had come over a few weeks ago, and cooked shrimp using the tequila. I looked in the spice cabinet, and sure enough Jaime had put it there. I grabbed it, and poured out a small glass for Sam. I stuck a lime on the side, hoping they’d see this as some kind of peace offering. I walked back into the living room and handed Sam the tequila. “Thanks,” they said, taking the glass from my hand without looking at me. We sat in silence for a few more minutes before I decide to break it. “What were you hoping to get out of tonight?” Sam turned to me, and with those big, sincere eyes said only one word, “You.” I blushed, and almost fell for them again, like I had when I first met them four years ago. I closed my eyes and sighed, then took another big swig of my wine. “How can you say that so easily? After everything that’s happened?” “I apologized for that. I thought we had moved on.” Sam took a long drink of their tequila. “Moved on? You had me fund your addictions! And that was only three weeks ago!” “Well, I’m three weeks sober.” “You’re drinking right now!” I said with frustration, and tears beginning to well up in my eyes. “I’m only drinking because you offered,” Sam said dismissively. I wasn’t ready for this conversation. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to just apologize for even bringing it up. Why couldn’t I just deal with it? For all I know, this was Sam’s first drink in three weeks. “You hurt me Sam. You hurt me bad, and if we’re going to be together, I think I need more than three weeks to just, even process all this shit.” After a pause I said, “I think you should go.” The tears were coming now, and there was no stopping them. I sniffled, and put my face into my arm, praying that Sam would just leave. I heard Sam take another long drink of tequila, then a weight lifted off the couch. They took their coat off the hangar, and I thought I would finally be alone. Sam put their coat over me, then sat down and wrapped their arms around me. It felt good. Having an intimate moment like that. Six months was a long time to go without that physical aspect of affection. Words can be so powerful, but so can a hug. I gave in and shrunk myself into Sam’s arms. “I don’t want to hurt you again. And I’m sure as hell not leaving again,” Sam said, stroking my arms. They had rested their head on mine. “I can give you some time. Some space. If that’s what you want.” They had now begin stroking my hair. I missed them stroking my hair. We sat there for a while. Me, trying to calm down, and stop crying; still hiding my face. Sam, petting me, and breathing in a slow, rhythmic way. Sam’s hold on my body was firm and supportive, but they weren’t squeezing me. I hadn’t been this physically comfortable in god knows how long. Despite being an emotional wreck, and having a bad brain, I felt relaxed and comforted by Sam’s presence. The ones closest to us hurt us the most. All this pain had been caused by Sam’s vices. They drank. They did coke. They had even cheated on me once. They said they couldn’t even remember that night, but they couldn’t remember most nights in the past six months. I knew this. I had never felt so betrayed, broken, and unwanted, then when they told me. Over the phone no less. Would all of this have happened, had they just stayed here? Why did they have to move away? They said it was just temporary, but if we couldn’t even do six months, how were we supposed to do two years? Yet, Sam just being here made everything better. I felt like we could fix things, and that they were serious about working on themselves. I’ll always have that pain, that hurt that Sam caused me, but I can also have this. This comfort and support I feel right now. My last partner left after they found out my bad brain caused me to have trouble sleeping, and the one before that left after one of turns. Sam had never shied from those dark parts of me. In fact, they were always the first one at my door when I stopped responding to everyone’s messages, and they always understood when I wasn’t able to do things for days at a time. They were there, and they got me out of bed and got me to brush my teeth, and take a shower, and made me food for the day, even if they were busy. Things were so fucked now, and I did want to believe Sam, that if we tried hard enough, we could go back to how things were. I wanted to believe in them. But the pain remains, even as it subsided, and gets buried under other trauma, and happy memories, it remains. Just like the shells of old hermit crabs at the bottom of the ocean. And every once in a while, those shells can wash up on the shore, and be found again. I don’t know what I want to do, and I don’t know if I want to be with Sam, or even if I can be with Sam. So, I will lay here, in their arms, for as long as I can, trying to stave off the inevitable question. The inevitable questions. What are we? What are we going to be? Can we still be friends? Who gets Tom? I try to shut my brain off before I start crying again. “Hey,” Sam said in subdued voice. “How are you doing?” “I don’t know.” My voice muffled by talking into this cocoon Sam made for me. “Well, that’s okay.” Sam patted my head. “Look at me.” After a moment, I pushed myself up, wiped my eyes, and looked at Sam. They placed one hand against my cheek, still was red and hot. “I love you,” Sam said with earnest. “And I am willing to do anything to be with you.” I put hand against their cheek and kissed them. I was sick of crying. I was sick of thinking. Sam pulled away and looked deep into my eyes. “Does this mean -” “I don’t want to talk anymore,” I cut him off and kissed him again. We ended up in the bedroom, and spent most of the night entangled, with scarce words exchanged, until we both passed out, holding each other. I rubbed my eye and tried to get the dust out of it. I managed one eye open and checked the clock on my bedside table. 4:37AM. Sam and I were no longer entwined, and I had to pee, so I got up from the bed, as carefully and quietly as I could, and headed to the bathroom. I abstained from turning on the bright, yellow light, and manage my way around through touch and memory. Once I was done, I walked softly bad to the side of the bed. Sam was sound asleep. I sat on the side of the bed, and my bad brain started up again. Was this a mistake?


“It doesn’t count if you’re already planning your defeat,” Chris said cautiously. The four boys, Evan, Calan, Owain, and Chris were all standing in the viewing area of the curling club, warming up for their quarterfinal game. They’d scraped by the round-robin with a win/loss record just good enough to get themselves into the final, and were facing a team of older juniors. Calan has a track record of getting in his head, and it usually leads to him not playing well. The four boys are sitting on the carpet in the lobby, gazing out longingly and nervously at the ice shed, knowing the challenge that lies ahead. The boys have been playing well, curling over eighty percent in all their games so far, but the catch is always their mental game. If they get in their heads, like all sports, they’ll lose their confidence. The team dynamic has always worked out for the boys as well, they all know their jobs on the team and what they have to do to support one another. Chris throws first and hangs out with Calan for his shots at the end of an end. He’s the joker on the team, the one that’s the most mentally resilient, and his job is to keep the rest of the boys out of their heads. Owain throws second, his job is to make shots and work hard. Evan throws third, his job is almost the same as Owain’s, with a little bit of mental support, helping Chris out. Calan, the strongest thrower on the team, has to make his shots to win games. The whole team’s job is to keep him out of his head, and he’s already started here before the game. As the boys continue their warm-up, they’re all preparing themselves for the game. They stretch, then they have a short talk with their coach, Craig. “Alright boys, play like you can,” he says, confidently. He always says this before the game, it’s become one of his phrases the team knows well. Inside everyone’s heads, the nerves are kicking in. These guys are the Nova Scotia provincial champs, they’re gonna be tough, and the boys are going to need to bring their best. The short practice before the game begins, and the four boys take some slides and throw some rocks to get a feel for the ice. After their time is done, the opponent goes out to the ice and starts their run. They’re all at least six feet tall, and out there on the ice, they look quite menacing. They’re all at least three years older than the oldest on the boys’ team, Evan, with the age gap being as large as seven years to the youngest. It’s incredibly hard not to get in your head; they can throw the rocks so hard out there, it’s hard to hide anywhere from them. As the boys watch the practice, they make some remarks about the ice, and some light mocks of the team to try and lighten the pressure. Even though they’re all reacting differently, they’re all thinking the same thing: we gotta play well. Chris leans over to Calan and jokes around a little, Evan makes another remark about the opponent team to Owain that makes his eyebrows raise and he smirks. While it feels different in the moment, they’ve played these guys before. In the bigger picture, if the boys played like they do in their club league when there’s no pressure, they would win everything, always. Craig always says, on the way home from games: “there’s nobody in this whole province that scares me; nobody’s unbeatable for us.” It always feels so good in the boys’ heads on the way home, if only they could get that kind of feeling in these pressure games like the one that’s about to start. They all know their roles, and the chemistry works well, but somehow the pressure at the moment still gets the nerves going. They make their way down to the ice to start the game, and they get going. The boys are playing alright, but it’s clear there are some nerves out there. A small miss here and a rock short there isn’t enough to lose the game, but it does keep it very close. Points go back and forth for both teams, as they make a few misses here and there as well: it’s clear it’s going to be close. At last, Chris makes a breakthrough partway through the game; a song. It’s nothing serious, just a strange country song. At the moment though, it doesn’t matter. The game is close, coming to an end, and the boys need something to take the nerves away. Partway through the second last end, While Owain gets out his rock to throw the next shot, Chris makes his move. In his strange, quirky, farmer boy voice, he starts singing along to the chorus of the song. Evan and Owain, the two boys closest to him, recognize it instantly: it’s All my Friends are Drunk , and all the boys know the words. Everyone instantly collapses in laughter; it’s exactly what they needed. The mental game fades into the background, it’s all fun and games now. After Owain throws his shot, making it perfectly, Chris goes down the end where Calan is and does the same thing, with the same result. Calan’s nervous posture instantly collapses as he giggles like a four-year-old out there in the quarterfinal. The rest of that game went exactly as planned: the boys played like they could. Their mental game and posture were undefeatable, they were making everything out there. After the game, Craig had no idea what had happened, just that the boys had played an incredibly strong back half. As far as the rest of the spiel goes, the pressure only went up, but not in their heads. At the start of every game, they blared that song in the locker room, had it running through their veins. No more defeats were planned, defeat wasn’t even on their minds. They went out in both their semifinal and final games and knocked their opponents out of the park, they were to win it all; success at last.