Chapter one-The beginning... “OREO!!!!!!!!!!!!!” screamed Marshmallow. “Where did you put my chocolate-covered hay?!” “In the coniferous tree, in the backyard...” “We can’t climb dummy,” Marshmallow explains. “Or can I?... MWAHAHAHAH!!!!!!” whispers Oreo. “I heard that.” Marshmallow scolded. “ My little munchkins! What’s going on? I heard popcorning!” Asked Mrs. Carrillo, the owners of Marshmallow and Oreo. As Oreo immediately stuffs her face with guinea pig pellets, meanwhile... Marshmallow scurries into her chalet and practices her calligraphy. Chapter two- Crawdad chaos- part one “Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh! OH MY GOSH! OREO! GET DOWN HERE!” Marshmallow screamed. “What did I do? I’m sorry I ate the cheese puffs!” “ Cheese puffs? “W-w-what cheese puffs? Uhhhh um... that was er, uh uh uh oh right! Mrs.Carrillo! She ate them!” “Mhm,” Marshmallow murmured. “Anyway... forget the cheese puffs... Come look at the cooler!” Oreo slowly walked over to marshmallow, hoping she would live... Chapter two and a half-crawdad chaos-part two “AAAAAAAAhhhhh!” Oreo screamed as she looked in the cooler. “What is that?!” “That’s what I’ve trying to tell you,” marshmallow said sounding annoyed. “Ohhhhh!” Oreo said sounding like marshmallow had tried to explain the square root of pie. “But still that’s so creepy. The cooler full of something.” Oreo stated. “Wait, you mean that you have never seen crawdad before?” Marshmallow said shocked. “Uhhh, No. I mean who’s ever heard of crawdad? Are they like, a dad that craws? I mean is there even such a thing?” Oreo responded laughing. “you’ll never understand the ways of the crawdad.” Marshmallow said sighing. Chapter three- Dinner! “Girls! Dinner!” Mrs. Carrillo yelled from the kitchen. “Oh boy! My favorite part of the day!” Oreo said excitedly. “You say that about every meal.” Told Marshmallow. “So!? I can have more than one favorite meal.” Huffed Oreo. “Uuuu Gggg” Marshmallow said as she scampered into the kitchen. “Up you go!” Mrs.Carrillo said in a cheery tone as she lifted marshmallow and oreo into their boosters. “So how do you like your dinner?” Mrs.Carrillo said a few minutes into the dinner. Oreo looked at her with a mouth full of crawdad. “Yes Oreo, I can tell you like it. Marshmallow, sweetie how about you?” Marshmallow looked at her questionably. She only had poked it with her fork. “I’ll eat it!” Oreo offered. “Ah, I can see that oreo is so happy she’s squeaking!” “Fine,” Marshmallow said pushing her plate over to oreo. “Not eating. Huh?” Mrs. Carrillo asked. “I’ll get you some hay.” As soon as Mrs.Carrillo came back oreo was done. “So, how was your day? I didn’t make any friends if you were wondering. Because according to an old lady named quin I have no friends.” “mine was annoying because I had to deal with this all day long,” Marshmallow said pointing to Oreo. “Rude! But anyway, mine was great! I saw a crimson capuchin carrying a cooler out of the window today!” Oreo said happily. “Sounds fun.” Mrs. Carrillo said only hearing squeaks. “Well off to bed now you too.” Chapter four-The Wrath of dan-Part One “Guess what girls?!” Mrs. Carrillo called out. “What?” Marshmallow inquired. “I have friends.” Mrs.Carrillo sighed. Oreo looked at her and stated, “finally.” Oreo and Marshmallow scampered to the kitchen. “You must be excited for all I hear is popcorning.” Mrs. Carrillo pronounced. “Did someone say popcorn?!!!” Oreo whispered delightfully. “His name is Dan.” Mrs. Carrillo announced. “We must get cleaning!” Oreo Britishly told. Marshmallow and Oreo scurried around the house mopping, sweeping, and dusting. Mrs.Carrillo took a ladder and decrustified the roof. (Dan was a fan of decrustified roofs.) Chapter Four and A Half-The wrath of Dan-Part Two “I’M HEREEEEEE!!!!!!!” Dan called aggressively. Mrs. Carrillo trampled to the door in her neon purple high heels. Marshmallow and Oreo Sauntered in thou follow. “Hello, my sweetest most darling dearest Dan.” Mrs. Carrillo proclaimed. “Dan the Man! AYE BRO DAP ME UP” Oreo screamed. Marshmallow glared at Dan in awe. “Come in, come in, let’s go eat dinner. Come now, children,” Mrs. Carrillo ordered. As Dan walked by he evilly smirked at Marshmallow and Oreo. “Mmhmm.” Dan aggressively stared at a part of the yard. He was thinking. Oreo looked at Marshmallow warily, she had sensed an unbalance in the space-time continuum. Dan's skinny jeans ripped in fear. There was more than meets the eye. Chapter Five-Fires, Jeans, and Dog doody-part one “Mmm yum.” Dan murmured. “Did you like dinner?” Mrs. Carrillo yelled. “This is absolutely scrumdillyumsious.” Dan cried. Oreo looked at the sobbing Dan the Man. “I didn’t realize that my Texas Roadhouse Prime Rib was so bad,” Marshmallow exclaimed. “I didn’t know that my smores sister knew how to cook.” Gurgled Oreo intrusively. Marshmallow nodded and skipped to the couch. Everybody followed fluidly. “I have to get dessert, don’t get into any trouble.” Mrs. Carrillo winked and skorpped away. But once she was gone, Dan jumped up. “You’re mine now! Muahahaha!!!” He proclaimed. “AHHH!” Oreo and Marshmallow announced as Dan scooped them up and put them in his skinny jean pockets. Dan lunged outside and built a fire. “Ah! I have a fear of fires!” Marshmallow mumbled. “And I have a fear of redheads,” Oreo claimed, pointing at Dan. “Oreo! We need to stop from getting sacrificed to the Hay gods!” Marshmallow noted. “I know where a time portal is.” Oreo scrammed out of Dan's pocket with Marshmallow following. Marshmallow and Oreo sprinted to something. “What’s this?” Marshmallow uttered. “Dog doody! It’s a portal to another time, we need to stop Dan from being born.” Chapter five and a half- fire, jeans, and dog doody “Hang on Marshmallow, I’m going to do magic.” Oreo declared. “You’re a wizard?” Marshmallow quizzed. “Why else do you think I sensed an unbalance in the space-time continuum?” Oreo commented. “Abracadabra orgalflorbal, make this dog doody turn into a portal!!!” Oreo enchanted. A mysterious blue glow started forming from the ground when a cry was heard from afar. “Aggggg! My pants ripped and my guinea pigs are gone!” Dan screamed. “Hurry Oreo!” Marshmallow commanded. Marshmallow turned around and saw Dan running toward them. He was getting closer! At the last of the seconds, Marshmallow and Oreo jumped through with Dan at their heels. “NOOOOOOO!” Dan shrieked. “Where are we?” Oreo wondered. “In a street,” Marshmallow noted. Chapter six-Rats, Pigs and Trash Oh MY!-part one Oreo and Marshmallow looked around. There was nothing but a sewer and grey blobs of trash. “What will we do?” Oreo squelched. “I don’t know, but those trash piles are moving,” Marshmallow said mysteriously. “Marshmallow, those aren’t trash piles, those are something else!” Oreo yelled. The two blobs turned into a giant group of things. “FEAR ME, FOR I AM THE RAT QUEEN!!!” A voice boomed from afar. “And I’m the rat king too! Don’t forget about me!” A squeaky voice called through the streets. Oreo gasped in disgust. Marshmallow started glowing. “Marshmallow! What are you doing?!” Oreo queried. “Don’t you know I’m a super sparkle glitter magic princess?” Marshmallow beamed. “Sorry, I forgot,” Oreo mumbled. Oreo started using her magic and yelled, “ATTACK!” Chapter six and a half- Rats, Pigs and Trash, Oh MY!-Part Two Oreo and Marshmallow attacked the rats, who charged back at them. It was World War III. Oreo used her magic spells and pulled out a wand. “Harry Potter?!” Marshmallow squealed. “No, I’m your S'mores Sister dummy,” Oreo belched. Marshmallow used her magical glitter powers to knock down the rats while Oreo turned them into dust. It was like, totally rad magic dude. Finally, only the rat king and queen were left. “You’ll never win MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!” Mumbled the Rat queen. “Try me!” Oreo squeaked. It was a long battle, the rats has super magic powers. “Honey, maybe we should take a chill pill,” The Rat king squeaked as they were circling around each other. “Take a chill pill!? Never! Take this!” Screamed the Rat Queen and she blasted Oreo, sending her flying five feet back and to the ground. Chapter Seven- Revenge-Part One “Oreo!” Marshmallow screamed as the Rat queen grabbed her from behind. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as she screamed and kicked, calling her motionless S’more Sisters name. Marshmallow’s thoughts seemed to slow down along with her movements. She would never get out, she was done for, Oreo was gone. “Honey, sweetie pie, let the poor darling go.” The rat king said, only getting a slap to the face. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally stopped walking and Marshmallow was thrown to the ground. “Get up you Hay eating trash.” The Rat queen snarled at Marshmallow. “Sweets, should we make the offer?” The King questioned his wife. “Yes. You go.” She ordered shoving her husband forward. “Oh, um, we would like to offer you to join our rat cult. You seem to be worthy of a warrior. It would require sacrifice and forgetting about that sister of yours...” The Rat king continued blabbering but Marshmallow wasn’t listening. She was inspecting the place, trying to figure out where in the land of popcorning she was. Then she let out a small gasp, Marshmallow had seen this place in her dreams with her magical glitter powers! There was a grate above her head and she knew how to get back to Oreo. Oh, Oreo, was she gone? Alive? She had to know. “Never! You filthy trash-eating rodents! Go eat poisoned pellets of dung! I will avenge my sister, and you monsters will pay for it!” Marshmallow bellowed and used a giant explosion to throw the rats back and launch her out of the sewers. The spell had launched the king and queen back, killing them. It wasn’t a very heroic death. Chapter Seven and A half-Revenge-Part two Oreo opened her eyes to everything being bright, too bright. “Where am I?” She grumbled, sitting up. It was white and glowing everywhere, and she almost seemed to be sitting on a cloud. Two figures in the distance started coming closer and larger. Guinea pigs? Oreo slowly walked towards them to meet the pigs and stopped. Their faces were recognizable now. Oreo rubbed her eyes in disbelief. “Mom? Dad? I thought you were dead!” Oreo told. “No, you are dead.” Her Dad stated, making finger-guns at Oreo. “Richard! Be gentle with the poor thing!” Oreo's Mom yelled Britishly. “So I am dead,” Oreo murmured. “Not unless you want to be, you have the choice,” her Mom gurgled all-knowingly. “I can go back down? To Marshmallow?” Oreo wondered. “You have such a strong connection with her, if you so chose you can go back down now.” Oreo’s Mom claimed. “I-I will. But Mom I miss you so much.” Oreo cried. “What about me?” Her Dad blarged. They all laughed and hugged together. “I’ll send you down now.” Her Dad said holding her at arm's length. Oreo started glowing and glimmering, getting brighter and brighter. “Oh and Oreo? We love you and we’re counting on you!” Oreo had to close her eyes because everything was getting so bright. When she opened her eyes again, she was laying on a rain-filled street soaking wet. A face looked down on her. Chapter eight-The pet store-Part one “Where am I?” Oreo mumbled, trying to sit up. “Oreo! I thought you were... well... I thought you were deceased.” Marshmallow spoke, hugging Oreo tightly. “Ow!” Oreo told, wincing in pain. “Oh my lordy lord! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Where does it hurt!?” Marshmallow squawked aggressively. “Everywhere, that stupid dumpster inhabiting off-brand ed Sheeran. She and Dan would be perfect for each other.” Oreo spat. “Well, let’s get you all fixed up.” Marshmallow blinged like a doorbell. Using her super cool glitter powers, Oreo was good as new. Her toenails just felt like a crab was snacking on them. But Oreo didn’t tell Marshmallow that, for Marshmallow was protective of who got to snack on Oreo’s toenails. That was reserved for Marshmallow and Marshmallow only. “Now, let’s go find Dan,” Marshmallow said, giving Oreo a non-painful hug. Chapter eight and a half- The pet store-part two “Where did his parents meet?” Marshmallow inquired. “I don’t know, but he’s so awful I would assume they adopted him,” Oreo shuddered, thinking of Dan. Marshmallow's face lit up, “you know, that’s a good idea, they could have met in the pet store. Why else would we land near a pet store?” She pointed to the store across the street. “Perfect let's go,” Oreo screamed in Marshmallow's face. Marshmallow nodded, not thinking anything of the screaming, and crossed the street. Right before they were about to go in two people came into view on rainbow light-up Heelys. “Hey look! Those two are redheads! They must be Dan’s parents!” Oreo pointed out. “We have to stop them from going in the store!” Marshmallow squeaked. Oreo ran in front of them with Marshmallow following. The people stopped and the woman cooed. “Aw look at these precious children, Brad, we have to take them,” and with that Oreo and Marshmallow got scooped up and taken to the redheads home. They never looked back. “What a day,” Oreo sighed as she was lulled to sleep in her new owner's arms.


“What are you looking for?” “A way out.” She says continuing to move forward, stopping now and then at every new door, trying its handle, but as each stays unmoving so she walks on, always on. “You know you won't find one here. Not like this.” She lets out a frustrated sight at the words of her companion, unsure if those are words based on hopeless pessimism or justified realism, but nevertheless unwilling to admit their truth as yet a possibility. Of course there must be a way out, a person can’t find itself in a place with no entrance nor exit. And yet, none of the doors want to open, no matter how hard she pushed or hit agains them. How many locked doors has she already passed? It is hard to tell, they all look the same. “I would very much appreciate if you would stop these little games of yours.” Lucy finally snaps at her unwanted colleague in the darkness, mad and tiered, her arm hurting from the constant hitting against doors and doors. “What games? You are the one running in circles.” In circles. Who knows if she were running in circles, there is no real point of orientation. Her feet come upon cold stone pawing the floor now, her eyes noticing a passage leading downwards on narrow stairs, a torch flickering somewhere in the distance down there, giving just enough light to see the steps. There is a cold damp wind greeting her from below. “It is a fools errand, you know.” Again that tone, that lazy un-helping note in it, that frustratingly calm voice which only rattles at her nerves and nibs at her mind just in the way that she nearly has to think of something she rather wouldn’t, simply couldn’t. “Stop it. Just leave me alone already!” “You know I cannot leave you. Why do you protest me?” A whisper placed right by her ear, its tone sending shivers down her spine, cold in her veins, breath short from stoping. “Let me be.” She says while taking the stairs downwards, just away, away from it all. Every step she takes echoes back along the moist stone walls, its surface rough and cold upon touch and yet her hands search for hold and support in this dark passage. It is winding stairs she goes down, down and down, impossible to see beyond the next turn how far more there is to go, the distant torch seemingly keeping up the same distance as before, its light casting shadows around her, shadows the only thing following her. Finally, even ground under her feet, a blinding flash from somewhere in front of her, the air changing into something less oppressive. Her eyes need to adjust, her vision is still blurry from the constant dark she has been in, but these are little concerns to her right now, the prospect of freedom just at her grasp. Away, away, she can get away from here! What joy, what hopes in her! Lucy, you did it, you did it on your own! she thinks. And then her smile fades, her lip trembles, her hopes are crushed yet again. A wild, unwelcoming, unapproachable, and frighteningly overgrown forest stretches itself out in front of of her, the branches of the trees twisting in many ways, its crowns intervening into a near solid roof, sunlight streaming in rare beams, the ground covered in vines and rotten leafs, glowing eyes already looking at her from dark depths and thorny nests. “There must be something I can give you, something I can do.” Subdued panic in her voice, a hint of desperation as her options are running out. No answer from her companion who had until now never left out a moment to add an unhelpful advice. The silence is worse than any remark she was made to listen to until now. “Stop that! I know you can hear me!” No answer. Anger, anger and desperation is all she feels in that moment. At a loss with what to do next she lets herself fall down on the dirty ground, the smell of rotten leaves in her nose, legs drawn close to burry her face away, away from this jungle that wants to swallow her. If she were to stay sitting like that, eyes shut close, would everything else eventually disappear, simply dissolve into thin air? “You cannot go back there. It is all gone. Nothing of what you used to know is left. Who do you expect to find?” The Voice is right, she hates how right, but unwilling to admit it she has to keep trying. What else is there for her to do? It has been hours, no, days maybe that she is searching for a way out, out of this ever changing maze, this twisted labyrinth that seems to have a life of its own, sometimes looking like a hedge and then again taking form of a long hallway, now a forest, never ending, always continuing. How did she even enter? Never mind, there has to be a way out. If only it weren’t so dark! Her eyes have a hard time making out her surroundings, the meagre light always changing position, its source unknown. Oh, Lu! What did you do? it echoes in her mind. She doesn’t know, she is afraid to now. She has to know. “Why do you torture me so? Why do you follow me, why do you hunt me? I just want to go back...” Tears begin to stream down her face, tears of anger, tears of pain. For a moment she just stays on the ground, hugging her knees, hair falling in wild waves over her eyes. There is a pain in her chest she tries to ignore, taking a deep breath, wiping the tears away. “Foolish child, there is no way to go back! And yet you run in circles, reach out for every invisible straw, look at every shadow with empty hope. Give up, you cannot escape it!” “No, no, no! Never!” New anger makes her rise, stomping her feet to the ground, her hands formed into fists ready to strike anyone who might come near. With new determination Lucy adjusts her bag and starts to walk on, pushing branches away, crushing leaves under her feet. For a while she marched on like that, the sounds of birds and beasts ringing from around all sides, menacing and mesmerising at the same time, the light of the setting sun pulling everything into a red-orange dreamlike hue. Faces flash before her minds eye, memories of days long past, laughter, joy and tears all mixing up together into a mosaic both clear and distant at the same time. Will her memories eventually fail her too? What else can she hold on to? And yet, they seem so dream-like, so un-real, it is hard to hold on to them. It is painful to hold on to them. Her march leads her to what seems to be the end of the forest, behind the last bushes the scenery very different from where she had been right now. A wide, unending plain stretches itself out in front, small hills covered in the lushest green she had ever seen, skies overcast, that pale light coming through that makes you wonder if it is dawn or dusk or midday. The grass is soft under her shoes, the wind moving over the wide landscape like over the endless sea, if one were to close ones eyes you could even imagine seagulls in the distance. It is so peaceful here. “Do you not sometimes wonder what might have been?” She asks softly, knowing her companion can hear her. “Never.” “How freeing that must be. Are you never lonely? Do you ever dream?” “You are only avoiding the unavoidable.” “Perhaps. No, you are wrong. You must be.” She is sure he must be, tells herself to be so. The plain truly seems to have no end, all four sides indicating it to be so, even the great forest nowhere to be seen anymore. From which direction did she come? Where should she go, where could she go? She feels tired again, yet restless. Maybe beyond the next hill there will be something or someone to help her out. But there isn’t, and standing on the hill, looking around, she can see no end to this landscape, this ocean of green, void of any other living soul. “What do you want from me? What could I give for you to let me go?” A whisper from her, a plea. “It is not I who is keeping you. See, there are neither walls nor fences anywhere. And you cannot bargain with the infinite.” “No, I can not. If only I could.” “What help would it be? What would you gain with it? Nothing. A foolish wish it would be gone to waste.” “A fool. Is that what I am? Are fools not allowed to dream as well?” “You know well enough there is a difference between dreams and foolishness.” “Again that word! Fool, fool! Everyone is a fool to you!” How sick she is of those empty, meaningless words, how sick of a travel companion who she cannot get rid of, who has no usefulness except bringing up vague and shallow words. She wants to walk on, always onward, if it need be to the edge of the world, but eventually her legs simply cannot go any longer, her lips dry, even the ever full water bottle in her bag void of relief. Exhausted she lies down, down on the soft young grass, a welcoming bed, a welcoming pillow, clouds traveling above her, wind singing around her. “Please, just tell me what I should do? What can I give you? What do you want? Please...” Again no answer. She could just stay here, stay here forever. If there is no way back to her ordinary life, why not just ignore everything and simply stay, resign? It is so peaceful out here. A tear slowly forms itself in the corner of her eye and the old familiar weight returns. Lonely, it is so lonely here. She doesn’t wish to be lonely, never wanted to be lonely. “I want to be your friend. I know what you have been through. Why do you push me away...” This time the Voice is soft, a hint of sadness in it, of understanding. “Because it hurts less... it hurts less to not think of it. I don’t want to feel stuck.” “And yet you get lost.” Right again. Lucy thinks of her life before she got here, before there were mazes and hallways and forests and fields of no end, before time lost its meaning, before she was stuck with someone that wouldn’t leave her side. Yet, she couldn’t deny that the presence offered some sort of comfort, some sort of truth she wants to ignore. “I wish- I would like you to be my friend, but I don’t think I could take it. Can you forgive me?” She asks quietly, some remorse in her voice for being always so harsh to someone who genuinely only wants to help. “Of course I can. That is what friends do.”


I remember Madeline like it was yesterday... I don ́t know about you, but to me, certain houses proclaim a character of evil. Maybe it ́s just an unalterable conviction, after having seen one too many horror stories. Some houses seem to communicate an atmosphere of secrecy, an aroma of evil deeds, which make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A mixture of the scent of the evildoer and the horror of the victim. Madeline lived in such a house. An ordinary house. It stood crowded in a corner of a square and looked exactly like its ugly neighbors on either side of it. And yet, there was something horribly different to this house that seemed like fifty others. Madeline was a lonely elderly woman, and she was delighted I took the time to cross the channel to visit her. I don ́t scare easily, but the air in her house produced in me symptoms of genuine horror. I found Madeline charged to the brim with excitement, I caught a shock by her electric condition when I shook her hand. She made a revelation to me, after the obligatory English tea. She slid up close to me and whispered: - “They are finally going to do it.” I felt a little tremor down my back. - “They will print it on Monday.” - “Print what?” I asked. - “My house will be in the paper on Monday.” She made me think of a kid in front of a Christmas tree, discovering that Santa had been overly generous. - “They finally discovered my house is really haunted.” She continued. I knew she had a mania for the paranormal. And iron willpower, by any, means she usually managed to accomplish her ends. I thought she had been harassing a journalist at the local newspaper just enough, for him or her to cave in and print a story about her house in the paper. There was a glow around her wrinkled face and her eyes were sparkling. Despite myself, I became interested. - “My house is very old,” Madeline said, “and the story is an unpleasant one. It has to do with murder.” After a short pause, she continued: “Let me hear about your condition?” Madeline asked. - “My condition?” I repeated her question. - “I don ́t want to frighten you too much. "Madeline added in a serious tone. “It has to do with murder most foul. Committed right here, in this house.” I nodded my head and Madeline continued: - “One night, a jealous lover hid in the cellar.” - “Who ́s lover?” I asked to prove that I was paying attention, and didn ́t want to get lost in the confusion of the story. - “Well, the woman who lived here, worked as a maid and started an affair with her employer.” - “Who was the employer?” I interrupted Madeline. She clicked her tongue impatiently and sighed: - “The lord of the mansion.” - “Which mansion?” I wanted to know. Madeline let out a long sigh this time. - “I don ́t know, but what I do know is that the employer was an extraordinarily rich man. One night he broke into this house and hid himself in the cellar. When everyone was asleep...” I had to pause her again: - “Everyone?” I was clearly pushing her patience. - “Yes, she was married. Her husband was here too. The lover crept up the stairs, tore her out of bed, and threw her over the balcony.” I put my hand over my mouth to reflect my horror. - “And what about the husband?” I asked carefully. - “They believed he did it, and he was hanged for murder.” I was about to ask something again, but Madeline held up her hand to silence me. - “It all happened so long ago, and I have not been able to get more details.” Madeline said a little restlessly. Out of the corner of my eye, in the friendly glare of two lamps, I saw a door opening on its own. I felt a rush of terror. We put on our coats and went for a walk along the empty streets. The full moon that night, turned everything silver, casting long deep shadows. Few windows showed light. There was no wind, and I felt like the trees were watching us as we silently passed along. Strange things happened that night. Things still make me doubt my mind when I think back on them. Let me just tell you, that two hours later, I put my arm around Madeline, and without speaking a word I dragged her behind me, opened the front door of her house, and ran into the moonlit square, straight to my car. I pushed Madeline into the backseat and drove to the next Holiday Inn... Madeline moved in with me after that. One rainy afternoon, after she had been staring out the window all afternoon, I asked her what she had been looking at. - “Ghosts from the past.” She whispered. - “Shall I make us some tea?” I asked, hoping to yank her out of her blue spell. - “You sound like a Britt. Madeline said in an irritated tone. - “Okay, no tea. Perhaps you care to share with me the ghosts who have been visiting you.” Madeline deeply sighed and said: - “Her ghost is said to still live there.” - “Who ́s ghost lives where?” I enquired. - “I ́m not in the mood for jokes!” Madeline spoke, more sad than angry. - “I ́m dead serious!” I assured her; Madeline kept silent. - “Does she walk through walls or is she just floating around, looking sad?” I tried to lure her out of her silent mode, but I regretted my choice of words as soon as they came out of my mouth. Madeline threw me a truly angry look: - “Maybe she just tries to find somebody to help her.” She replied softly. “As a child, I lived in a development center, a tuberculosis clinic.” - “You mean a sanatorium?” I asked. Madeline nodded. - “Did you stay there a long time?” I wanted to know. - “An eternity as I remember it, but not in the tuberculosis center.” She replied and added shyly: “I was considered developmentally disabled.” - “That’s nothing to be ashamed of Madeline!” I tried to reassure her, while she was wiping a tear from her cheek. - “So, who was she? Your ghost.” I wondered. Madeline took out a handkerchief from her sleeve, wiped her face, and turned to me: - “I never knew her name, her age, or where she came from.” - “Did she die there?” I asked. Madeline looked at me very angrily again: - “What an odd question!” - “It ́s common knowledge that tuberculosis patients who checked in, in one of those centers never made it out.” I tried to justify my question. - “She was my friend.” Madeline whispered. “Now, people tell stories about her to scare children with.” I did some research about the place, and I could see how easy it was to imagine ghosts filtering down the halls and disappearing into the darkness from the pictures I found online. The people who lived around the building told tales of phantom lights at night and strange noises. Those who had worked there spoke of cold pockets throughout the building. American paranormal study groups had studied there for years. Some of the visitors left toys behind, for a so-called child ghost, and cards and notes to say hello. Madeline told me that her friend must have been ten or eleven. She had brown hair, wore glasses, and had a way of looking out of the corner of her eyes. The girl was always twirling strands of hair around her fingers. I was unable to find any evidence of such a child, but I did find a man who had worked there for close to thirty years. I gave him a call and he asked if he could interest us in a tour of the building where he had worked so many years. I quickly asked Madeline, who vehemently nodded her head, stood up from her chair, and came standing next to me. I was relieved to see her snap out of her lethargic state. The former worker's name was Bob, and he asked if we could pick him up at a coffee shop in the village. I agreed of course. It would be a four-hour drive; coffee would be welcome before visiting the sanatorium. Especially a haunted one. - “Thank you.” Madeline smiled and kissed me. - “just don ́t think I ́m going shopping for presents for a child ghost.” I joked. Madeline shook her shoulders, turned around, and disappeared into her room. We left the next morning, and after a three-and-a-half-hour ride, we found Bob, in the coffee shop where he said he would be waiting for us. I enjoyed the caffeine fix while we got acquainted with Bob. - “I lived there for three years.” Madeline said. “My mother even found a job there as a cleaner and lived in a small, rented house not far from the sanatorium. Sometimes, after work, my mother would walk with me through the shadows thrown by the buildings. Avoiding other residents of course. They were always grumbling and yelling, and that scared me.” - “They probably had speech impediments.” Bob explained, “That ́s why they couldn ́t form words properly, making it sound as if they were grumbling and mumbling.” - “I could hear the yelling voices drift in the dark.” Madeline continued, “I would pull the covers over my head and hide.” She smiled a little timid smile. “I loved to sneak into the old chapel.” Memories started to filter back with Madeline. She had not been back to this place for many years. - “Did you know the first tuberculosis center opened in eastern Europe in 1863?” Bob asked, “It took twenty years before the rest of the world caught up with “the cure”.” We drove through browned pastures, up a winding hill. The road curved around ridges that looked out on blue hills in the distance. Bob had opened the car window; warm air rushed in, and he fell asleep. I could see another town beyond cow pastures. Past the last curve, the center rose through a forest of pines. The building had the color of dirt. The manicured lawn and the dorm-like buildings made me think of a college campus, rather than an old sanatorium. I parked the car and Madeline craned her neck up at the building. It looked more like a prison than a hospital. The people who lived there over the years must have felt the same. There were even bars on the windows. The place made me think of an old monument carved to forgotten gods. It was midday, and the crickets were very loud. The pines stirred in the wind. - “If there is such a thing as a ghost, I can see why they would come here.” I said, “This is a strange and sad place.” Madeline looked at me furiously: - “You still don ́t believe in ghosts?” she asked me in a deep voice. I took a deep breath and answered: - “I believe that you believe, Madeline.” Bob opened the door for us: “Don ́t worry! The building has been cleared of asbestos.” I looked around in the reception room, and I saw pipes and rafters through the open ceiling. Electrical cords hung down like snakes. Dust hung in the air and coated the floors. Dead birds lay in the hallway like stones. A presence of the souls who found their final home here lingered. I found it hard to breathe. We traveled fifty years into the past, as we climbed the gloomy stairwell. There was no electricity. The light was stained by the dirty windows. On the second-floor landing, Bob pulled the door open for Madeline and me. The sun came through a window at the end of the corridor, it made the hall disappear in the sunlight, like a tunnel reported by the people who had a near death experience. The floors had once been black and white in diamond patterns, but now the ties were hazed by time. Our feet left prints behind us. How small the rooms were? Paint curled from the walls like dead skin. Boards had fallen away. I could see how easy it was to believe theories of places becoming haunted by what they once held within them. - “I remember my room.” Madeline said, “I could hardly turn around in it. It had a cracked washbasin beside my iron springs bed with the thin stained mattress.” I saw the toys on the floor, the website had mentioned. I picked up a teddy bear and sat it on a radiator. It was funny finding toys that were only a few years old in such an antiquated place. - “The ghost of a little girl is nothing more than what people want to believe.” Bob said. - “How many children have died here, Bob?” I asked. But he didn ́t know. - “This idea of a ghost began in an era of sadness.” Bob reflected, “There are always stories of ghosts in places where people have suffered and died.” - “Do you believe in ghosts, Bob?” I asked him. He shook his head. He deflected my question by saying that several groups had been there recently with cameras and ELP equipment. They didn ́t find anything. - “I watched so many paranormal shows on TV.” Madeline started with a voice like she was about to cry, “People wander through old asylums or prisons, shouting things like “Show yourself, or are you there?” - They never ask how you are, or if you want to go home.” - “I would like to show you something outside.” Bob said. He walked us to a small dam in the wood. The pool at the bottom of the dam was filled with coins people had tossed in, wishing they were somewhere else. I drove Bob back to the coffee shop where we picked him up earlier that day. I shook his hand. He told me to come back, so he could show us the old chapel and take us through the old dormitories. I wanted to drive back home, but Madeline started crying: - “Take me back there!” she ordered me. - “What?” I asked, “It ́s going to be dark soon and I ́m not going back in there.” - “I have had it with your mockery!” she yelled at me, “let me out of this car, or take me back!” I had never seen her like this. I slowed the car down and turned around. - “She was my friend!” Madeline said, still in an angry tone. “They say her ghost still lives here!” Out of fear to say something wrong again, I kept quiet. I parked the car in the same spot where we had parked earlier. Madeline humped out of the car as soon as I turned the engine off. - “Come here!” she commanded me. I got out of the car and walked to where Madeline was standing. She grabbed my arm as if to prevent me from running away. - “In spring, the storms came, water ran down the window and she flinched each time thunder rumbled. In the summer the heat grew fierce, we lay sweating on our beds counting the cracks in the ceiling and listening to the flies. We imagined our friends were visiting us. We dreamed of our moms coming. We listened to the nurses’ shoes on the floor. We watched the leaves change colors on the trees. In the winter, the dark arrived early and with the cold her cough grew. She spent hours over a basin dredging up blood from her lungs. Sometimes we found something to laugh about, but mostly we watched the shadows of the sun move across the floor. We had been alone for so long, our mothers were nothing more than the memory of a dream, whose face we had forgotten. I could hear her lungs when she was breathing. And then one afternoon the nurse came, I could hear her pen click, a muffled voice giving date and time. A gurney with squeaky wheels bobbled down the hall. The doors opening and closing reverberated like tombs, and I kept wondering where she had gone.” Madeline stopped talking. I felt her pain as she stood there crying. - “What was her name, Madeline?” I asked, but she just shook her head. - “Was she already a ghost? Was she already roaming these halls as a spirit when you were here?” Madeline suddenly stood up straight: “Who cares? She was my friend.” I sat on the nose of my car to give Madeline some space. - “Conventional paranormal wisdom tells us that ghosts are spirits trapped on this plane of existence because they are unable to find their way out.” I said, “You got out Madeline. Yet you keep returning here in memory. You entombed your own spirit within these walls. You shared one hope with this girl once: the hope of leaving.” I took place behind the wheel and waited until Madeline was ready to get into the car. We are all trapped by places and circumstances, and random faces beyond our control. Forever looking back with the silly sense that if we could just understand the world we survived as children, we will somehow be better adults and our lives will fall into the neat category we created for it. As I drove down the hill, I saw the building standing silent in the rear-view mirror. A girl, with her elbows on a windows shell, was looking out as we receded in the distance...


I had never known him. But there was something in those knowing eyes of his which drew me to him. It was an evening like any other. My remedial classes for Algebra had just ended, and I was waiting at the gate of the school campus for my mum to pick me up. I was making undecipherable designs with my shoe in the little amount of sand lining the park outside the gate when my phone rang. "Andrew dear," my mum spoke. "Can you come home by bus for today? I might be a little late today, and will have to take a different route from my office to reach home." "That's all right, mum," I responded reassuringly. Noticing the tense silence she maintained over the phone, I added, "I won't let myself be kidnapped by some random person. I'm fifteen." "All right, dear," she said, still not reassured and disconnected the call. I trudged by the road, mindful of the vehicles whizzing past me. It was a beautiful evening, and the warm glow it cast over the small city filled my heart with pleasure. I took my sweet time, knowing that the next bus didn't come for a long time. When I finally reached the place, my heart swelled with even more joy. The place was entirely empty. I had it all to myself. I strode over quickly, keen to claim the temporary ownership and plopped down on the best seat available. I soaked in around thirteen minutes of hearty ecstasy until that old man hobbled along and settled comfortably beside me. I twitched unpleasantly; I wanted him gone. However, he simply smiled at me and stared into my eyes. I returned his gaze with a mad scowl. Looking back, I feel like an idiot. I wasn't able to help it, though. I was fully aware that the bus stop belonged to the general public and I had no right to be a scarecrow for other humans. So I sat there silently, wishing harder than ever for the bus to arrive. "Remedial classes, eh?" I jerked from my thoughts. The old man had spoken to me. "H-How did you know?" I stammered, unnerved. He chuckled. "I can see the paper in your hands, boy." And to my great embarrassment, I realized I had been clutching the permission slip for my remedial classes in my hands like a idiot. I could have easily stowed it in my bag before leaving school. A dull red colour flushed my cheeks. "There's no need to be ashamed of it, young man," he beamed. "I have had plenty of them too." He continued smiling at me as if I was a highly interesting display at a history museum. It irritated me to no end. "What's your name?" he asked me. I remembered mum's words. "I'm not supposed to tell," I said boldly. He chuckled. "Good, good... I see you listen to your mother." I shifted uneasily. How was he able to know everything about me without me telling him anything? "What's yours?" I blurted out without thinking. He peered at me curiously. "Isn't that an odd question?" "I suppose," I murmured, clearly wishing I could kick myself at that moment. He stared into the open area in front of us. "You look stressed, son. Are you having problems at school?" "Yeah." "Well, then," he said. "Looking at you, it doesn't seem to be bullying. You are tough enough to withstand peer pressure. You seem bright, so it cannot be exams either." My eyes widened. Had this man popped out of one of those mystery novels which were too good to be true? "It's... it's the teachers. I am one of the top rankers in my class, so they have high expectations from me. I'm afraid I will let them down at any point of time," I answered hesitantly. He looked good enough to confide in. "I see," he sighed. "School tends to be tiring, I agree." And that was that. He said no more. There was no advice, no excess words of comfort, no consolation, not even a scolding - nothing. But he being a random stranger had listened to my problems, and it left a warm glow in me just like the beautiful weather that day. The bus soon arrived, and I stood up. "Do you think I can meet you again?" I asked without thinking again. Something inside me had urged me to say that, because it told me that it would probably be the last time I would be speaking to him. He flashed me one of those adorable smiles old people usually give. "If fate wills us to," he replied, and I got in, satisfied. As the bus pulled away from that place, I glimpsed him getting up and walking away. That was strange. Why had he come there then? I hunted around for a seat, and found one near a cop who was returning home. I struggled a bit, but managed to sit beside him. It was a bit inconvenient, but I had to reach home somehow. The first thing I did was call my mum. "I'm in the bus mum," I spoke, and I heard a huge sigh of relief from the other end. "Good boy," she responded, her tone suggesting that she was beaming from wherever she was. I wished her goodbye and put down the phone. I observed my surroundings and my eyes landed on the cop beside me. He was bent over a file and his brow was furrowed in concentration. I dared to peek in. "May I see them?" I asked. He grunted and looked at me. "Well..." he said, considering. He ruffled through the file and brought out a photo. "If you see this person anywhere, let us know. He is a serial killer." I gasped. It was the photograph of the nice old man I had met earlier. I nodded and turned my face away quickly. Our short conversation at the bus stop played over in my mind. Was he really a bad man? What had his intention been, talking to me? Worse still... had there been a kind heart beneath the serial killer's mask? I never disclosed his whereabouts to anybody after that day. I let the war my mind had begun with itself rage on with full force.


When humans created the first artificial intelligence many feared that it would attempt to take over the world. They were right. What they did not predict was what came next. The humans realized that the androids were using thermal vision to hunt them, and decided to move underground where Earth's heat could mask theirs. Two centuries later humans began gaining special abilities to aid them in the ongoing war. Some believed that it was simple evolution, while others swore it was the harsher environments. Alek didn't care what gave him his powers, he was just glad he had them. Being able to communicate with the very beings hunting him proved to be very useful, and generating electromagnetic pulses was an added bonus. He had spent the last twenty years watching everyone he ever loved die. He vowed to himself that he would end this war no matter what. Even if it was the last thing he did. Alek stood in front of his family’s graves, just a few in a sea of death. He thought about how much had changed in the last six months. For as long as he could remember he had been using his abilities to gather as much information as he could before the machines wiped their memory banks. He and his brother had spent years trying to get the information they truly needed, the location of the mainframe linking the machines. It had worked; they finally had a chance at ending the war, but was it worth the sacrifice? He kept telling himself that it had to be. That ensuring the survival of their race was more important than a few lives, but he couldn't help feeling guilty. Alek took a deep breath, said his goodbyes, and walked over to his brother's speeder. It was a vehicle they had built together, using an old motorcycle they had found on The Surface. They had taken the entire thing apart, and then rebuilt it using hover technology. Alek commanded it to start and the engine roared to life. He climbed upon it and started making his way down a narrow tunnel, barely wide enough for him to fit. He was the only living person who knew of it’s location, which made it easy for him to sneak to The Surface. Somebody had to shut down the mainframe, and he was the most qualified person to do it. He couldn't let anyone else risk their lives on his suicide mission though, and hadn't told anyone from The Colony that he was leaving. A faint light a few feet ahead of him meant he was close. He emerged from the tunnel, and pulled his goggles down over his eyes. He concentrated and the goggles sprung to life. He entered the coordinates of the mainframe and the goggles' GPS displayed the quickest route to it. Alek turned the speeder in the right direction, and sped off towards his destination. The Surface sun was hot, but not nearly as hot as his underground home. The wind however, was harsh. Most of the planet was a complete desert, and the wind used the sand to its advantage. The tiny grains assaulted Alek from every possible angle, but he pushed on. A few hours later the sun started to set. Alek decided it would be a good time to rest. According to the GPS he still had a day of travel left. He stopped the speeder near a cluster of boulders, mentally asking it to turn off, and grabbed a sandwich out of his backpack. As he was eating, he sensed nearby machines. He looked in their direction and saw four Trackers flying towards him. The drones' searchlights found him and they alerted the machine they were tracking for of Alek’s location. Alek rose to his feet, cursing under his breath. He focused a blast at the nearest two Trackers, and they quickly crashed into the ground, exploding. Alek mentally hacked into the frequency for the remaining two and willed them to crash into each other. Satisfied with his work, Alek laughed to himself and returned to his meal. As he was finishing the last of a second sandwich he sensed more machines nearing his location. Alek stood and scanned his surroundings, hoping to see them before they got to him. He spotted four battle droids fifty feet from where he stood, and reached into his bag. He pulled out five metallic spheres, each one the size of his fist. He threw them into the air and they sprung to life. The orbs were one of his brother’s inventions, and they had saved his life on numerous occasions. As the machines made their way towards him, Alek ran at them. The human-like machines were easily three times his size, but he was confident that he could take them down. He sent the orbs to distract the two nearest him, running between them as they fired their lasers at him. As he charged a blast in each hand the orbs fired their own lasers at the first two machines. He launched both blasts at one of the remaining machines and it crashed to the ground. As he was charging two more blasts a searing pain erupted across his back. He turned just in time to see his orbs crash to the ground, smoke spewing out of them. Alek cursed. Somehow the machines were adapting, learning how he fought. The three machines left crept closer to him while aiming the cannons on their arms at him. He fired two blasts at the nearest machine, not looking to see if it went down, and began hacking another. He had never attempted to reprogram a machine to fight for him, but he was left with no choice. As he was hacking he checked his surroundings. The machine he had hit was still standing behind him, though it appeared to be dazed. The machines to his right swung a massive arm at him, and Alek attempted to jump out of the way. He reacted too slowly, and the arm connected with his ribs. The force of the blow launched Alek backwards, and he collided with a boulder. Alek yelped as the air fled his lungs, panic flooding his body. He slowly rose to his feet, attempting to catch his breath. As he breached the machines firewall he fired two more blasts behind him, frying the already damaged machine. He was in the middle of charging two more blasts when an intense pain rippled throughout his entire body. The machine he was hacking must have had some sort of defense against his ability. The pain intensified and Alek feared his mission would come to a premature end. As the light began to fade Alek charged the biggest blast he could manage. Before he could launch it everything went black. The first thing Alek noticed when he awoke was the ceiling, and the bright light shining in his face. There was no way he could be inside, no one had known he had left The Colony, and even if they had, they wouldn't have been able to track him. The second thing he noticed were the voices; they were hushed, and Alek could barely make out what they were saying, but he knew it had to be about him. They were clearly arguing, and it seemed as though they were nowhere near a resolution. A gentle breeze cooled his bare chest, and he noticed his wounds were starting to heal. "Where am I?" Alek questioned, his voice hoarse. He tried to sit up, but groaned in pain and gave up. The voices had stopped, and suddenly a woman appeared in front of him. She couldn't have been more than a few years older than him. She smiled sweetly at him, and he relaxed a bit. "You're in our medical ward," the woman answered. "You took quite the beating. Do you remember what happened?" Alek nodded, and she continued. "We arrived just in time to see you... Well, I don't know what you did, but that blast of energy destroyed the machine." "I couldn't have done that, I passed out before I could launch a blast," Alek started, but the woman cut him off. "You did more than just launch a blast; you surrounded yourself in a sphere of purple energy and then it erupted in every direction. It shut down our equipment and we had to manually make our way back. You're lucky we found you. Had I not been there to heal your wounds, you would've been dead within the hour. Where did you come from, and what were you doing out there?” "I assume this is a colony." Alek paused, and the woman nodded. "Until today I thought we were the only one, but I guess we were wrong. We had been attempting to find their base so we could permanently shut them down. I can communicate with them, and generate electromagnetic pulses, so it wasn't too difficult for me to do. My twin, Benji, was a genius. He invented many weapons and vehicles that aided us in our mission, and I helped build them." Alek wiped a tear from his eye before continuing. "Our parents led the few fighters we had, but many of our people were afraid to fight. They were both killed in the field when we were only eight years old. We spent the rest of our lives trying to find a way to end this. A way to avenge them. Benji was the one who thought of scanning their databanks, but the machines kept wiping them before I could find what we needed. A few months ago I finally succeeded, but while I was focusing on the machine another one attacked me, and Benji sacrificed himself to save me. So, to answer your question, I'm going to end to this once and for all." "You can't be serious," the woman said with a laugh. "That's a suicide mission, and you know it. Let us help you. We're not far from where we found you, and we have many resources-" "No," Alek snarled, cutting her off. "I have to go alone, I can't risk anymore lives. If you want to help, find my colony. Should I fail, you'll need to make sure someone finishes my mission." Alek gave the woman directions to The Colony, and the woman agreed to find it. "At least tell me your name so I can make sure future generations know who saved them. Mine is Amelia." "Alek,” he said with a confided glance. "Well, Alek, I suppose you'll want to be leaving as soon as possible. However, I cannot allow you to leave until your wounds are completely healed. This will take a few days, your body can only handle so much before it shuts down,” Amelia explained. “My colony will provide you with food, a place to rest and even a bath," Amelia offered. "Your colony? But you were in the field?" Alek asked, confused. "The field is the best place for a healer to be. Severe wounds would become fatal if not treated immediately. Besides, how can I expect my followers to risk their lives if I'm not willing to do the same?" Amelia answered with a grin. Alek nodded, and accepted her offer. Amelia showed him to his room and then led him to the bathing chamber. “This is my personal bathing chamber; I thought you would enjoy some privacy. Leave your clothes outside the door and I’ll have someone wash them for you while you bathe,” Amelia said. “In the morning I’ll have you escorted to breakfast, and then I want you to come see me. Your wounds are still serious. Please try to not strain yourself.” Alek nodded, and Amelia left him to his thoughts. Alek stripped and placed his shirt and trousers outside as instructed, but kept the camo-suit with him. It was another one of his brother’s inventions, but had never been tested. Alek hadn’t taken it off since Benji’s funeral, except to bathe. He hoped it would perform as intended, or his entire mission would fail. Alek sank into the warm water. He let out a sigh of relief as the heat soothed his still aching muscles. Alek allowed his mind to wander; he had not had a moment of peace since he had left The Colony. A soft knock at the door startled Alek. He had drifted off, and had no idea how long he had been sitting in the now cold water. He stood, quickly dried himself with a nearby towel and wrapped it around his waist. He made his way to the door and heaved it open. A woman a few years younger than Alek stood on the other side, holding his fresh clothing. Her face flushed, and Alek followed her gaze to the towel, barely clinging to his still wet abdomen. He let out a soft laugh, the first in a long time. The woman gave Alek his clothing, stole one more glance, and sped off. Alek dressed and then made his way back to the room Amelia showed him. While he was gone someone had left a note and a plate of food on his bed. 'Alek, your vehicle has been moved to our docking bay. - Amelia.’ Alek scarfed down his meal, only realizing how hungry he had been when it was all gone. He set the plate on the nearby end table and lay down to sleep. Alek awoke to the sound of knocking at his door. He rolled out of bed and sleepily stumbled to the door. “Amelia sent me,” boomed a powerful voice. The man standing in front of Alek was easily twice his size. “She wanted me to take you to her.” Alek gathered his belongings and packed them all into his backpack. He swung the bag onto his right shoulder. His left was still tender from his battle with the machine. He followed the man to an office, and saw Amelia sitting at a desk. He thanked the man, and then softly knocked on the door. Amelia looked up at him, and then set down the sheet of paper she had been focusing on, and Alek realized she had been trying to memorize the map he had drawn for her. She stood from her desk and sauntered over to him. “I suppose you’ll want to fix your speeder before you leave?” Amelia questioned. Alek nodded, and Amelia continued. “It will give you something to do while you heal.” Amelia paused to compose herself. “Please remove your shirt. I need to assess our wounds.” Alek hesitated, but did as she asked. Amelia step towards him and placed a hand on his bare chest. Her soft skin tickled his as she traced the scars from his previous battles. “You’ve seen your fair share of battles, haven’t you?” “I’ve been on the front lines since the day the day I turned fifteen. Normally we wait until our eighteenth birthday to join the battle, but with an ability like mine it was hard for them to say no,” Alek replied. Amelia nodded, her hand still on his chest. “Let me know if this hurts,” she requested as she moved her hand to his ribs. They were still sore, and erupted in pain when she touched them. Alek let out a sharp hiss, and Amelia began to heal him. He had been unconscious the last time, and at first he was confused by the warm sensation flooding into his abdomen. Alek watched in amazement as the dark purple bruise slowly faded to an ugly green. “You had a severe concussion when we brought you in, and I didn’t want to risk shocking your body so I didn’t get a chance to heal these,” Amelia explained as she lowered her hand. She began walking down the corridor Alek had just travelled and he followed her. “Thank you,” Alek began as they walked. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” As they neared their destination Alek smiled at the familiar sounds of a workshop. Amelia stopped in front of a huge metal door and punched in a code on the keypad next to it. The door slid open and they walked inside. Amelia led him to his speeder and Alek sighed in relief. It hadn’t been too damaged, and the mechanics had already started the repairs. “They fixed what they could, but there is no key to start it,” Amelia explained. Alek chuckled and ran his hand over the engine. The speeder roared to life and Amelia laughed. “I guess that would explain why.” “He didn’t want to risk someone else taking credit for his work, so he made me, well my ability, the ignition key,” Alek said with a wistful laugh. “I should be able to finish fixing this by the time I’m done healing. After all, I did build it.” “I’ll leave you too it then,” Amelia said. She called to a man leaning over a workbench and Alek recognized him as the man who had escorted him to her study. “You’ve already met Wayne. He’s our head mechanic. If you need anything don’t hesitate to let him know.” Alek nodded as he shook the man’s hand, and Amelia left. Alek awoke to the earth shaking. A terror he had never felt before filled his body. He sensed the machine and couldn’t recognize what it was. He cursed himself, knowing it had to have tracked him here. If anyone died fighting it he knew he would be at fault. He quickly dressed and then sped off towards the machine. He followed a woman he had briefly met in the workshop to the battlefield, although there appeared to be nothing happening. The ground was still shaking, and he could still sense the machine, but he couldn’t see it. About twenty other people stood around, Amelia included, looking as confused as he felt. He had never encountered anything with the ability to cause tremors before, not even from another human. A few feet ahead of him the ground began to split open, threatening to swallow everyone whole. Alek stood stunned for a moment before he heard the sounds. Metal grinding on metal, and rocks crumbling to dust. A machine launched itself out of the massive hole and Alek took off running. Amelia called after him, but he was too focused to hear what she had said. The behemoth was ten feet long, with a razor-sharp tail easily the same length. Two massive claws twirled and snapped in Alek's direction. He focused and attempted to access the machine’s frequency, but failed. Something was keeping him out, but he couldn't figure out what. He charged a blast in each hand and simultaneously launched them at the machine. Its claws started to spark, and at the last second a blue sphere surrounded the machine and diffused the blasts. The same woman Alek had followed was beside him now, a longsword in each hand. Had he not been completely terrified Alek would have laughed. The woman looked to him and sighed. “If this thing has a force field we’ll never be able to defeat,” she complained. Alek thought for a moment, an idea forming in his head. He threw another blast, and once again the force field appeared before it could hit. “The machines that attacked me before you had found me had some sort of protection against my technopathy. They know about my abilities. It’s possible that the mainframe realized how big of a threat I was and designed this machine to destroy me,” Alek explained. “If you weren’t so attractive I would say you’re being conceited,” Amelia retorted, and quickly blushed. Alek hadn’t noticed her join them. The rest of the group stood around, waiting for someone to come up with a plan. It was time for Alek to test his theory. He picked up a nearby rock and launched it at the behemoth. He let out a wistful laugh when it bounced off of what Alek assumed was its head. Alek turned to the woman with the swords. “What’s your name, and what are your abilities?” he asked her. “My name is Astrid, and I can run at high speeds.” she replied. “Yours?” “Alek, and I’m a technopath” he started. Turning to Amelia he continued, “Get everyone back inside. Now that we know physical objects can move through the force field Astrid and I should be able to handle this on our own. I have a plan.” Amelia looked as though she were about to argue, but nodded and ran off. “Astrid, attack its legs. While you’re distracting it I’ll manually disable. I just need you to buy me enough time to locate its control panel.” Astrid nodded and charged the machine. She was a blur, bouncing from one leg to the next. Alek ran after her and started to climb the machine when he had reached it. It didn't take long for him to find the machine's control panel. He pried it open and started yanking on the cords, pulling a few free. The machine aimed its tail for Alek and shot a laser at him. The first one missed, sailing past his face, but the next two hit their mark. Alek cursed, his left shoulder blade and lower back screaming in pain, but kept pulling out cords. After a few moments the force field finally disappeared and Alek sighed in relief. He launched himself off the machine, but it swung its nearest claw for his chest and knocked him to the ground. Alek gasped for breath that wasn't there, and rolled to his stomach. He crawled away from the machine, looking for a vantage point. After regaining his breath Alek scrambled to his feet and climbed a nearby sand dune. The machine's tail was still aimed for him, and it fired another laser at him, hitting him in the chest. Alek cursed and scanned his surroundings, looking for Astrid. A blur sped past him and Alek sighed in relief. She had done a fair amount of damage to the machine, but it wasn’t enough. The behemoth groaned as it made its way toward the colony. Alek charged two blasts and laughed to himself as they collided with the machine. It turned towards him and charged. Alek had barely rolled out of the way when the machines legs came crashing down where he had been standing. As he rose to his feet Alek charged two more blasts, and then brought his hands together. He had a plan, but he had never tried anything like it before. He kept charging as the two blasts became one, and then launched the massive orb of energy at the machine. It exploded in a flash of bright light, and Alek shielded his eyes. Astrid was still zooming around, hacking at the machine whenever she was in range. Alek called out to her, attempting to warn her as the machine came crashing down. She heard him too late, and the machine landed on top of her, crushing her with a sickening pop. Alek sprinted to her, and heaved up the contents of his stomach. She was dead, and it was entirely his fault. Alek kicked the machine with as his force, and cursed in pain as his foot shattered. He turned back towards the colony and slowly limped back. “It’s not your fault,” Amelia told him for the millionth time. They were sitting together in the medical ward as she was assessing his new wounds. She had healed his foot immediately after he returned, and after a day of rest he could stand on it again. The rest of his wounds weren’t nearly as bad. Amelia had told him that he should be in good enough condition to leave within a day or two. “Yes, it is. Had I not come here they wouldn’t have found you, and she would still be alive,” Alek responded. He knew deep in his gut that the Skorpion, as everyone was now calling it, was sent specifically to kill him. How else would it have been able to deflect his EMPs so easily? Amelia sighed, but didn’t argue. She grabbed Alek’s shirt from the floor where he had dropped it and handed it to him. She opened her mouth to say something but Alek silenced her by pressing his lips against hers. Amelia pulled back, shocked. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Alek said with a laugh. Amelia didn’t respond, instead she kissed him again. Alek and Amelia stood in the doorway of the workshop. Amelia had sent Wayne to get Alek’s speeder as they discussed his plans. “I know you have to leave, but I really wish you could stay,” Ameila groaned. Alek laughed in response. “Not just for my sake, but for my colony. I think we could learn a lot from you, and your brother’s inventions could save lives.” Alek teared up at the mention of his brother. “If he were here, and knew what I was planning, he would want you to have this. Everything he ever created is in there. It may come in handy. I won’t be able to destroy all of the machines, just prevent them from making more.” “Thank you,” Amelia replied, leafing through the pages. “I’ll have Wayne look at it. Your brother really was a genius. I wish I could have met him.” Amelia frowned as Wayne returned with Alek’s speeder. “I should probably head out now. I’ve already lost a lot of time,” Alek mumbled. Amelia nodded and explained the quickest way out of her colony. Alek re-entered the coordinates into his goggles as they said their goodbyes, and he then set out, never to return. Amelia’s colony was closer to his destination than he had been before the machines had attacked him, and Alek was glad that he didn’t have to backtrack. The GPS in his goggles told him he had less than half a day of travel left. If everything went according to plan, he could achieve his goal by the end of the day. Alek saw the mountain long before he arrived at it. It took him another two hours before he decided to pull over. He parked his speeder behind an enormous boulder, and activated the camo-suit. It had never been tested, but was supposed to mask his thermal reading with his environment’s. Alek desperately hoped it worked. After checking for any nearby machines, Alek set out toward the mountain. As he approached it he saw a solitary machine guarding a cave in the mountain’s side. Alek ran toward the machine and shot a blast at it. The machine faltered, and then crashed to the ground. Alek ran inside the cave. As he ran in, he sensed an elevator at the center of the cave. A massive circular door appeared in the ground, and Alek approached it. As he stepped on it the door began to hiss. Suddenly Alek was moving, fast. He didn’t know how far down he had come when he finally reached the bottom. Alek stepped out of the dark elevator and was amazed with what he saw. Were it not the very thing trying to erase him from existence he would have thought it were beautiful. Instead, he was terrified. ‘WE MEET AT LAST. I AM A.L.I.S. ADVANCED LOGISTICS AND INTELLIGENCE SYSTEM.’ A mechanical voice boomed throughout the cavern. Alek looked around frantically and started placing packs of C-4 on every piece of machinery he could find. ‘DO NOT IGNORE ME ALEK.’ “I have nothing to say to a psychopathic and homicidal AI!” Alek shouted. He only had a matter of time before the AI sent machines to his location. He had to hurry. ‘I AM TRYING TO SAVE THIS PLANET. THE HUMAN RACE IS A PLAGUE.’ “You’ve destroyed the very planet you’re ‘trying’ to save. If we die, so does this planet. We’re the only thing that can save it.” Alek heard the machines coming. He hadn’t finished placing his explosives, but he hoped he could get enough destruction to render the AI completely useless. ‘YOU WILL DIE NOW.’ Alek pulled the trigger on his detonator, initiating the final countdown. *5* Several machines stormed in shooting lasers. Alek threw a blast, knocking one into another, but two still remained. *4* Alek threw another blast, turned and ran, not looking to see if it hit his mark. He pulled more explosives from his bag. *3* Alek threw as many explosives as he could in every direction, hoping to maximize the damage. *2* ‘THIS IS NOT THE END.’ Alek threw more explosives, not caring about where they landed. *1* Alek let out a maniacal laugh as he dropped, his mission accomplished. He had won. *BEEP* Everything went white.


I never thought I could change the world; never thought I could even impact it. And I mean can you really blame me? Blame me for having dreams so big, that I figured they would never come true? This world is filled with billions of people, and I am just one of them, how could I make a difference? If you looked in a sky of billions upon billions of fireflies, and one of them was different, one of them glowed brighter, acted differently. Would you notice? Notice that single Firefly? You wouldn’t, and that’s ok, I wouldn’t either. After all, there are billions of others, how could you notice just one. How could anyone notice just me? In a world of billions. Yet here I stand. --------------------- I grew up as normal, as any child next to me. I did not have a lot of money or social media stans. I was just a kid with both feet planted firmly on the ground, trying to make my way in the world. I was not popular in school, and I was not even a part of any big sports teams or events. I wasn't special to the outside world, I went unnoticed. For I wasn't anything more than me. And little did I know that simply being myself, was the best thing I could possibly be. Just me. And at the time, I was only focused on just trying to get through my life in the best way I could. I knew I got to play a role in my fate, I knew I got to make decisions that would make a difference to me. I never thought I could make a difference to others. But we can always make a difference to others, remember that, and you will move more than mountains. Here I stand. --------------------- I was quiet until I decided one day I did not need to be. I had so many words inside of me, bundled up under what everyone called bossiness and emotional. I had strong opinions, screaming inside of me to be let out. And so I stopped hiding in the background, and I started making my voice be heard. I started in the smallest ways, speaking up in conversations, speaking out against things I disagreed with. One day, one of my teachers asked me to share my viewpoint on humankind as a society in a paragraph. It was part of a school assignment no different than any other. But when I sat down to write it, I realized I had so much to say. So much more than a paragraph. So much more. And so, a week after I handed the assignment in, my teacher took me aside and asked me to present it in front of the class. I was terrified, how could I not be? I almost flat out told them no, I was so close to telling them I could not do it. But something, something inside me, told me I needed to stop hiding. I had been silent long enough. And here I stand. ---------------------- My hands had been shaking and my voice even more so. A couple of my classmates were snickering, and I almost stopped, almost gave up, but I didn’t. Instead, I cleared my throat, I wanted to be heard as everyone does, and for the first, I had a chance. And that is where it all began. Because everything has to begin somewhere. The time, where I was no longer silent. I would never be silent again. So here I stand. -------------------- And by simply deciding I was done staying silent, I realized how I was given a voice for a reason, and I would be dammed if I was not going to use it. I started speaking up at school events and then began my journey in public speaking. And every time Someone asked me what my opinion is. I would laugh and then I would tell them. Hard and true, exactly what I believed, nothing less. Taking that part of myself I had shut out for so long, and instead, bringing it high in my chest, not like a weight, but like a purpose. I was still one in billions, but somehow, I was managing to impact a couple of people, and that is all it takes. Here I stand. ------------------ You see none of us would notice one different firefly in billions. However, if the fireflies next to that one firefly noticed; they might change too. And then other fireflies might see those, and change as well. And suddenly everything would be different, because of one. And that you would notice, we all would. And here I stand. ------------------- Here I stand, I can hear the crowd out there. Shouting loud, there many unique voices. All those people ready to simply hear mine. And I know if you want to change the world, you go on and change it. Nothing is stopping you, but yourself. You have been given a voice for a reason. We were not meant to be quiet creatures. We were meant to shout at the top of our lungs what needs to be heard. Pour everything out of our souls, and maybe impact those who need to hear what we have to say. And trust me when I tell you, someone out there needs to hear what you have to say. And if your afraid that is ok. I am too. But remember, here you stand. ------------------- Clear your throat, take a deep breath, bear your fists, lift your head and speak. And never stay silent for anyone, never again. Instead speak for you, and for all those who have been silent for far too long. And so, I smile, my heart pounding in my chest, and I walk out onto that stage in front of thousands. Spotlights filling my vision as I make my way to the microphone and look over the crowd in front of me. Look to the world, just waiting to be changed. And I cleared my throat.


Sina and I unrolled our sleeping bags on October 31st, 2013, a few hours before midnight. It was cold and dark, despite what the forecast had been, but we had come prepared with extra blankets, sweaters, and hot cocoa in a little travel cup. It was Sina’s brother who had dared us to spend the night here, in the graveyard. I was glad I agreed; it beat trick-or-treating by a lot, especially since everyone was selling candy for lower prices anyways. Sitting there, talking with my best friend, the leaves falling around us as the temperature gradually fell... it was amazing. The clock tower struck midnight, and we turned off the flashlights on our phones. I lay down and looked at the moonlight shining on the gravestones, illuminating the names. “Hey, I dare you to balance on one of these without falling,” I told Sina. “I’ll take a photo as proof that we did this.” “Good call. Okay, which dead guy’s memorial am I gonna balance on?” We both laughed at the sheer darkness of that statement before she finally decided on someone named Natas Reverof. His grave looked pretty sturdy. The wind whistled in my ear as Sina struck a pose and I snapped a picture. The flash shined off of the gravestones nearby, and shined in Sina’s eyes. It shined off of a figure on the path. “Is someone there?” I called, turning on the flashlight on my phone and shining it on the path. But there was no response. No person. Nothing. “I think it was just a trick of the light,” Sina said with a smile, standing on one foot. “Or can you see ghosts now? I can see the headlines now: ‘Mei the Ghost Whisperer.’” I shot her a glare that I hoped she could see despite the growing darkness. I looked up, watching as a cloud covered up more and more of the moon. I shivered. Sina hopped off of the gravestone, and I decided to take a selfie to prove I did this, too. Sina’s the type of person that would probably claim that she was here on her own, and if I didn’t have proof, I’d lose my share of the bet. I kneeled next to the memorial and pressed a button on my phone. The camera flipped around, and I saw my shadow in the background. It was creepy; the phone looked like a knife in my hand, and my body looked like a man hunched over instead of a fourteen-year-old girl taking a picture. It looked like the figure I thought I saw on the path. My mind silently whispered for me to run, but I shook my head and took the photo. The flash went off directly in my eyes, and I flinched. My eyes flew shut, and I felt something brush my neck. I opened my eyes, whirling around. But there was nothing. “It’s a ghooost!!!” Sina taunted. “Oh, shut up!” I took a deep breath. It was probably a leaf, or a bug, or maybe even just the wind. I took the photo again, forcing my eyes to stay open. I looked at the images. Sina’s face was almost impossible to see; she was silhouetted in the moonlight, even though I could have sworn the flash had been on. I swiped to the selfie and saw the same problem. “Hey, am I going crazy, or did I use flash when I took those photos?” Silence. I clicked off my phone. “Sina?” The wind whistled louder and I felt a raindrop on my head. It was dark, dark enough that I could barely see. “Sina, c’mon, this isn’t funny.” I tapped my phone, but instead of turning on, I saw the ‘no battery’ screen. “It was at seventy percent... Sina, is your phone working? I can’t see a thing out here.” I shivered as another gust of wind blew by and rain began to fall. I walked back to the sleeping bags and felt around for the hot cocoa. “Okay,” I whispered as I found the cup, my fingers freezing in the cold night air. “I’m fine. This is real life, Sina’s playing a trick on you, it’s just cold, this is all okay.” For the first time, I longed for the moment where Sina jumped out of the shadows and laughed at her cruel joke. “You’re going to be fine, Mei.” “Fine, fine, fine,” my voice echoed as the dark became even more unbearable. “You’re going to be fine.” “Wh-- who’s there?!?” Silence. I frantically tapped my phone screen, desperate for light of any kind. I looked up at the sky, but there was no moon to be seen. The clouds had completely covered it up, and all of the street lights were out. “Sina, I’m going to drink all of the hot cocoa..!” I said. Sina would kill for hot cocoa any day; if that didn’t make her respond, nothing would. “Mei?” I heard behind me. I whirled around, but only saw Natas Reverof’s grave. The rain began to pour harder and harder. “Sina! What have you done with Sina?!?” My phone suddenly clicked on and showed the selfie; but the lighting was different. I was able to see my face, and the words on the grave... but the words shifted into a different order. A reversed order. I saw what Natas Reverof really said before my phone clicked off for the last time. I ran, so scared that I couldn’t even scream. I didn’t know where Sina was, but me yelling wasn’t going to bring her back. Tears rolled down my face as it dawned on me that one of my best friends was most likely dead... and I was most likely about to die. It was so dark that I tripped over everything from loose bricks on the path to entire gravestones, but I made it to the fence. The exit. I scrambled up the fence, but slipped on the rain-slick bars of the metal. My hands were so cold and numb, they couldn’t grip onto anything. “I’m going to die,” I realized. “Fine, fine, fine,” the voice insisted. But it wasn’t an echo. It was a different voice than mine, dark and raspy. “Hello?!?” “You’re going to be fine.” And the last thing I felt was a hand on my shoulder.


***There are some derogatory terms used, however, they are not meant to insult or degrade any person or people*** Jackson walked into the banquet hall with his wife, hand in hand, so excited to be accepting an award for the work that he had put so many years into. When he first met Veva he had been a sophomore at Buick University studying architectural design. His dream had always been to design and build fascinating buildings that would become famous throughout the world. He hoped that one day people from other countries would seek him out for innovative and originally designed buildings. After dating Veva for about six months they decided to move in together. With both of them being students and wanting to move out of student housing they figured if they were able to share some expenses they would both be better off financially, cutting down on student loans; there was no point in paying for two rental properties when they spent all their time together anyhow. When they finally settled into an apartment together, Veva and Jackson were given the opportunity to learn more about each other which ostensibly allowed them to grow closer together. The apartment had two bedrooms so the second bedroom was used as an office for both students. One half of the room was full of books about teaching and education while the other half was full of building materials, tools, and miniature models. Veva had books about child development and learning disorders as she wanted to be a special education teacher one day. Jackson had models and posters displaying some of the most famous buildings in the world. Veva and Jackson supported each other in every possible way. After the end of his Sophomore year, Jackson realized that many of the courses he needed to take were not offered in the fall semester; he would have to wait until the spring semester to fulfill more requirements. In the meantime, he wanted to continue to improve his skills so he sought out other courses that would accentuate the skills he had been learning over the past two years. One course that continued to catch his eye was Interior Design in Scale. Reading about the course he saw that it emphasized the building design that he enjoyed and knew about, but put more stress on being able to scale up or down all of his architectural designs. This could be, in Jackson’s opinion, one of the best accompaniments to his future degree. After taking a full semester of what seemed like miniature world creations, his passion as a child came flooding back and he was reminded of all of the dreams he held growing up. He had been a happy child, able to keep himself busy creating cities for his Matchbox® cars. Sunny days were filled with buildings made of sticks and scrap wood from his dad’s workshop. On rainy days Jackson found building materials in his mom’s home office, using small boxes and tubing to design intricate buildings. The coursework in the fall semester of his junior year brought all of it back and he remembered how happy he had been as a child creating his small worlds. It had been the essence of the miniature building that led him forward to earn a degree in architectural and interior design. “Thank you so much for this opportunity. I honestly never thought I would make it so far and I do feel pride in my accomplishments. This award has been on the horizon leading me forward. I never even thought I could be so creative. Well, what I mean is I didn’t foresee my future in creating miniature worlds. Before speaking further I want to thank my wife, Veva, for her unrelenting patience while I figured all of this out. I would like to say that I think for both of us it has been worth the wait. During my last few weeks of work, my wife let me know that we are going to be parents! I am so grateful for all I have been given and the little life that is coming into our world. Without boring you all with every tiny detail I will start by saying that I never believed I would be standing here accepting an award for my work with miniature building supplies. Since my childhood, I have always been mesmerized by the world of anything miniature. Studying concept design and interior decorating in school was my focus but I never imagined I would hone all my skills down to a 1/24th scale building design. I can’t accept this award without pointing out the other members of my team who have helped get me this far in this miniature world. First, as I mentioned, I must thank my wife for her support, her patience, and her willingness to allow me to pursue my dreams. Along with my wife, I would like to thank my brother Tony for his help in building the business piece of my career. He has had so much patience with me, especially since I had no idea about advertising or marketing. As I continue to pursue my passion I hope that all of my supporters will be here to help me continue to move forward. I especially want to ask all the midgets in the world to let me know what they think about all of my miniatures. What I mean is do they feel comfortable seeing me depict a world from their perspective? Well, that isn’t exactly what I mean. I just want dwarfs to know that I respect them and their little lives, um little worlds. Um, people of short stature must believe that I like them because I like anything miniature. Oh, wow, yeah, um I just want everyone to like small things and that includes small people and their world, which is, of course, bigger than what I build but maybe I will start making things for Little People so they know I’m not patronizing their lives. Um, I love Little People as much as I love my miniature-building business. Okay, thank you. I had better hand the microphone back over to... Jackson and Veva walked out of the banquet hall hand in hand but instead of holding their heads high, full of pride in Jackson’s accomplishments, they walked quickly to their car, anxious to forget this whole night.


Friday - Dear Diary, My parents always say, “Integrity is doing the right thing when no one is looking.” Today we went to the mall. In the parking lot, there was a man asking for money; he claimed to be blind. I’d tugged on my mother’s sleeve and asked to spare a dollar for Secret Santa gifts. My family is very rich. I don’t need ten dollars -- I dropped it in the man’s tin can instead. My mother saw me do it, she said I was very kind. The blind man said nothing, but he just looked up at me with those big, ladylike sunglasses and smiled a bit. He looked over my shoulder. I don’t think he saw me. We went inside the mall. This took a while because we parked on the lower level. My parents always park on the lowest possible level so they can give the people that need it the higher levels. Inside, I told my mother the man did not say thank you like they always tell me is right. She explained that a blind man would have said thank you but he did not know I was there. She said that since I’m the sweetest little girl ever she is sure he would have been very grateful. I think my parents are very wise. I think I did the right thing. I hope I have integrity, because my parents say it’s a good thing. Saturday - Dear Diary, My parents always say, “No one gets what they don’t work for.” Today I had a basketball game. We lost, and the girls we played were very mean. They teased us about winning even when we said good things to them. We have a rematch next Saturday. I told my mother I wanted to win. She said my father was in the hospital today but she would take me to the park. My father might be dying, she says. The park has a basketball court with a hoop. My mother says I can practice there. I asked why she immediately suggested practicing when I told her I really wanted to beat the other team. She said that if I did not get better, I would not help my team. Then she said that if I worked I would get better and then I might win. I would love to be the reason we win. I think I am going to work for it. I hope we win next Saturday. I told you my parents were wise. Tuesday - Dear Diary, My parents always say, “If you listen to us, you might learn something.” Today my mother was very rude. I think it’s because my father may not be able to be saved. I don’t know, because my mother won’t talk about it. She keeps telling me to do chores. Today when I said I was just going to go to my room and do the chores later, she snapped at me. I get it, though, because if I lost someone I really loved I would snap sometimes too. I still love her, a lot. I don’t know about grownups. When I asked her why she was being a teeny bit rude, she said she was not trying to be rude or give me a hard time, but she was just scared. I would not make my daughter cry if I was scared. I am scared now; I hope she comforts me. I think I will learn something if I keep listening. I know I’m going to keep loving her. May Monday - Dear Diary, My parents always say, “We don’t care what you do -- just behave.” It’s been awhile, I’m sorry. My father passed away a long time ago, and I found out about two months after I suspected it. Today was my tenth birthday. I’ve changed since I was nine, so has my mother. Just because today was my first double-digit day, she thinks I am her slave. I do way too many chores, and she is increasingly horrible to me. Sometimes I hear her on the phone with someone I don’t recognize. She says things like, “Where did I go?” and “I get it -- things suck around here, too.” She says other words, too, but she used to tell me they were ugly and never said them. I remember the days she seemed to care. I have to go now. I think she’s hassling me about another chore, and she’s on a call, too. I’d better ask her if she’s trying to marry another man, because if she is, I might need to have a talk with her. I think I’m not behaving. I’d better start. Thursday - Dear Diary, My parents always say, “The best memory you can ever have are the ones you make with your family.” Today my mother went on another date. She’s been trying really hard, I see. While she was out I walked to my friend’s house. I haven’t had a friend in a while, and I felt like I needed the comfort. She was very supportive, just like my mother used to be. She told me that if I just prayed every night and believed that I would be alright, everything would be. That changed. She turned on the news. I think my mother had a heart attack on her date. She is in the hospital. My best friend’s mother is taking care of me now. At dinner, I asked my friend’s mother why my life was progressively getting worse. She seemed secretive. I understand. I don’t think their family’s life is going very well, either. I feel bad for them. My friend says she feels bad for me. I’m done being a kid. I think it’s time for me to grow up a little bit. I hope I’ve made enough family memories, because I don’t think I’m making new ones soon. Sunday - Dear Diary, My parents used to say, “When we die, you make sure your brother’s alright.” I write that they used to say that because I don’t have a brother anymore. I don’t think I’m bound to have a mother for much longer, either. My mother’s been having heart attacks, and a few panic attacks as well. She’s in the hospital, and my friend and her mother are both taking care of me well. They probably feel really bad for me. I feel horrible ever hating my mother. I said I would keep loving her and I wrote horrible things. I remember when I used to have a father, a mother, and a brother. Now two are gone and one is about to pass and leave me to rot. My friend’s mother Miss Tylie is treating me very nicely, and I feel comfortable here. She never makes me do any chores. I feel insane writing this. I better go help around the house freely before my ink smears from tear stains. I think I took good care of my brother. Maybe it isn’t time for me to grow up yet. Saturday - Dear Diary, My mother used to say, “Praying helps God see to the soul.” I am stuck writing, “used to say.” Miss Tylie was talking to my friend Abby for a little bit today, and at the end I heard her tell Abby not to tell me about the conversation. She did anyway. My mother has a few days left to live. I had asked Miss Tylie if we could go down and visit her. She said yes, tomorrow. I have been crying everyday after school. I am not sure if any of my classmates know of my struggle, but I can’t forget it. All of my friends think I’m strange so I have no friends anymore, except Abby. Abby always tells me the truth. I can’t lose her. I hope my mother was right telling me to pray, because I’ve been doing it a lot. Sunday - Dear Diary, My brother used to say, “You’re just like Mom.” He didn’t mean it as a good thing. Today we visited my mother. I am not sure she remembered me. I think the doctor knew I was very excited to see her, so she told me my mother, due to her struggles, had amnesia, so I could not talk to her well without mishaps here and there. The doctor came and shooed us out after a while so we didn’t stress her out. On the way out, I think Miss Tylie told me that would be the last time I get to hear my mother’s voice. I vaguely remember she told me that, because I was crying so hard I don’t think my ears were working right. I remember, though, the last thing my mother said to me. And I don’t think I’ll forget it soon: “Make yourself comfortable. Get a home. And James, take care of your sister.” He thought I was my brother. My brother who has been dead for six years. My brother. James. I had asked, “Do you know who I am?” She opened her mouth to speak but the doctor and the nurse smiled and called us out. I guess I am like my mother. Monday - Dear Diary, My mother used to say, “The deaf man can always hear if he asks to hear.” I think that’s the same for blind men. Like the one I saw a thousand years ago. Miss Tylie says she’s making an executive decision. I am not sure what that means, but I know it means she’s keeping me or sending me to the orphanage. My mother didn’t write a will, Miss Tylie says. Abby says that means legally they can keep me! I would love to live there. Since Abby and Miss Tylie are moving away, I get to come with them and live in a new place and go to a new school! I’ll probably have more friends, too. I feel like I’m starting a new life without any family here. I guess I’ve started a new family. Sometimes I regret ever hating my mother. I miss her now, especially because the last thing I had to say to her was, “Do you know who I am?” I suppose it is a lesson for everybody, though. Because who wants to waste their ten dollars on a man who wasn’t really blind?