64 AD. The Great Fire of Rome occurred in 64 AD. Dave knew this. It was an easy one--for him, at least. So why hadn’t he been able to answer the question? That smug prick Rex Green--whose real name is Morton, Dave happened to know, Morton for chrissakes!--had flashed him that big plastic smile of his, a circle of perfect white in that fake-tanned, plastic face of his, and Dave had frozen up, had drawn a blank, had reached down into the well and come up with a big bucket of nothing. In that moment he was able to picture how he looked to the studio audience, and how he would look to the television audience when the show aired--like a confused, sweaty simpleton. He had stammered, his eyes roving around the studio, taking in the audience, the cameramen, and his two opponents, before coming back to settle on Rex Green, longtime host of America’s third favorite primetime game show, *Take It or Leave It?* Then the buzzer had sounded, like the judgment of a cruel and unforgiving god, letting Dave know that he had run out of time. And with that, his brief stint as a game show contestant had come to an end. Now here he is, at some bar with an Irish name, drinking watered-down bourbon and lazily tracing some scratches in the countertop with one finger. There’s a ballgame on the TV hanging in the corner--no HD, not in a place like this, just a beat-up old set that had almost certainly had a pair of rabbit ears hooked up to it not long ago. Dave glances up at the game. The Yanks are beating the Orioles 6-zip in the bottom of the eighth. He doesn’t care one way or the other--he has no dog in that fight. Then a sloppy prick in a business suit speaks up. “Hey, Marty, why don’tcha turn it to that game show?” Dave grimaces, and it isn’t the bourbon that makes him do it. He hopes the guy doesn’t mean that show, *the* show. He checks his watch. It’s 8:31. Yep, just about the right time. “What game show?” the bartender asks. “You know, that show,” the drunk says. “The one where the guy is always asking people if they wanna take or leave it.” Dave can’t decide if that reply makes him want to laugh or cry; in the end, he does neither. The bartender (evidently Marty) walks to the TV in the corner and starts flipping through the channels. “Which channel is it on?” Marty asks. “I think it’s on channel eight,” the drunk tells him. Yes, it is on channel eight; Dave knows that, just as surely as he knows when the Great Fire of Rome occurred. Marty the barman flips to channel eight, and right there on the screen, staring out at the television audience with that fake smile of his, is Rex Green. Dave takes another sip from his glass as his red-rimmed eyes swivel away from the TV. From the television: “Now that we know how the game is played, it’s time to...” And at this point, the audience, the contestants, and the drunk at the bar all join in, like one big happy, demented chorus: “Take it...or leave it?!” The audience claps; so does the drunk. Dave just groans. He can’t remember now what made him want to go on that ludicrous show in the first place. He chances a glance back up at the set as Rex Green asks the first contestant--a pretty young woman wearing a University of Michigan sweater--who the twenty-eighth President of the United States was. He tells her that this man had been an avid hunter, an explorer, and a soldier. “Easy,” Dave mutters. “Theodore Roosevelt.” “Wuzzat?” the drunk asks. “Teddy Roosevelt. The answer to the question.” On the TV the young lady from the University of Michigan answers: “That would be Theodore Roosevelt, Rex.” “Well, Sarah...that is coooo-rect! You just won five thousand dollars!” Sarah from Michigan smiles, and the audience applauds. “Hey,” the drunk says, turning to Dave. “Good one, man.” Now Rex has something he needs to ask Sarah: “Now Sarah, you can either take the five thousand dollars, and pass to the next contestant...or you can leave it, and answer another question, this one worth ten thousand. Sarah, do you want to take it...” *Oh God*, Dave thinks. Once again, everyone joins in: “Or leave it?” *Like Goddamn sheep.* “Leave it,” the drunk says. “Five grand ain’t nothin’ these days. Leave it.” “Well, Rex, I think I’m gonna leave it.” Cheers from the studio audience, and in the bar the drunk wears a smile of self-satisfaction on his big moon face, as if Sarah had taken his advice personally. “Okay Sarah, now for the ten thousand dollar question. This symbol is a nonstandard punctuation mark used in various written languages and intended to combine the functions of the question mark and the exclamation point. What is it?” “Interrobang,” Dave says. “A whatabang?” the drunk asks. “Just...watch,” Dave says, waving a hand in the general direction of the TV. “That would be an interrobang, Rex.” “That is coooo-rect!” More applause. “You’re good,” the drunk says. “You should go on that show. You could really clean ’em out.” “I did go on.” “Go on where?” Dave sighs. “I went on that show. I went on there this afternoon, as a matter of fact.” The drunk looks at the TV screen, then back at Dave. “Then how come you’re not on the tee-vee?” “They film that show weeks in advance. My episode won’t be on for a while.” The drunk looks back to the TV, his brow furrowed as if he is still trying to work it all out in his head. He turns back to Dave, and now Dave tenses up, not wanting to hear the question he is certain the man is going to ask. “Well, how’dja make out?” And there it is. How did he make out? He didn’t make out well--not at all. “I, uh...” There’s a commercial for shampoo on the TV, promising an end to dandruff. Marty the bartender is looking up at Dave as he cleans a glass with a dirty rag, having picked up on the conversation. From the back of the bar came the sounds of pool balls clacking together as someone breaks. Dave’s stomach feels like a tight knot wrapped around a lump of hot coal. And the drunk is staring at him, wanting to know how he made out. “I cleaned ’em out. Just like you said.” “Well, all right! Tell ya what, have another drink on me. Whaddya say?” “No, I have to get going,” Dave says. “Thanks, though. And be sure to keep tuning in. I’ll be up there on that screen before you know it.” Dave pays his tab, considers a trip to the restroom for a piss before beginning the walk back to the hotel (paid for by the good people at *Take It or Leave It?*), but decides against it. He can hold it until he gets back to his room. Then he hopes to sleep a dreamless sleep. He walks to the door before stopping and turning back toward the bar, toward the drunk and Marty the bartender, toward the TV screen, on which another commercial is ending and the show is coming back on. He wants to say something, but he is at a loss for words. And then a line from a song half-remembered floats to the surface of his mind. “These bars are filled with things that kill.” “Huh?” the drunk asks. But Dave doesn’t try to explain himself. He walks out the door, slipping out into the shadows of the night. On the TV Rex Green is flashing his million-dollar smile, and everyone is clapping, each one certain that if they ever get their chance, they’ll clean ‘em out.


The man’s right hand crept over the divider and slowly brushed the woman’s fingers. He never averted his gaze from his book of course: this was all part of the experience. He touched her hand softly, only using the back of his index finger to start. She was reading as well, and while she normally needed silence and concentration to read, she didn’t mind getting distracted by him. Jacob was different. “Would you care for something, my good sir?” said Erin playfully, keeping her eyes focused on the little black symbols scribbled on the white pages before her. Jacob puffed his chest proudly and turned to look at the side of her head. “I must urinate and I demand you unbuckle...your seatbelt, so I can get past you and go to the pisser.” He made sure to emphasise the P. “Oh, is that right...unbuckle my seatbelt, eh?” “Yes, that is. Not sure what else I could, let alone want to, unbuckle right now.” Erin closed her book and turned to grin at Jacob, not minding that she lost her page. “For now, let’s ignore how incredibly sexy I am and how badly you must want me right now,” she said as she delicately scratched his arm. “Now regarding your bladder situation, it’s just that I can’t help but remember you stealing my Window seat even though I clearly have 32C...even someone as dense as you can see the predicament you quite literally put yourself in, right?” “Erin. I will climb over you and you will like it.” “Fuck. I give in. I’m too young and pretty to die of suffocation today.” She clicked the button on her seatbelt and slid out into the aisle. As Jacob slid over as well, she blocked the exit. “What’s the password?” She almost sounded genuine as she smiled cheekily. “Prawn is life 123,” he replied coolly, looking directly at her deep green eyes without batting an eyelash himself. “Wrong.” “I’m not kissing you.” “Wrong.” “I will piss on you.” “Unlikely and admittedly a fetish.” “I love you.” “You may pass.” As Jacob slid past, Erin gave him a playful spank before she sat back down. She closed her eyes and smiled. Only Jacob could make plane rides enjoyable. He could make anything enjoyable. He returned and thirty minutes later, the plane began its decent. Erin reached over to hold Jacob’s hand. “Remember when we first met? I still think about it sometimes you know. It was ages ago yet it’s so clear in my mind.” Jacob popped up the divider to rest his head more comfortably on hers. He grinned as he sassily replied, “How could I forget my first visit to the Strip Club? Spent a hefty $3 on you!” “I know and it was the most I’ve ever gotten!” Erin stated with glee. “Once you proved you were rich, boy...you had me hooked like crack. Now I’m never leaving you! Love me!” She turned to kiss him on the cheek, then the collar-bone, then proceeded to nuzzle her head into his neck. He smelled good. He always smelled good to her. They stayed in that position in silence until the plane’s wheels touched down on the tarmac. Jacob kissed the top of her head. Erin stuck her pinky out and Jacob did the same. They looked out the window and to their delight, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.


The final evening of our vacation on the tranquil beach, where the setting sun made me ache for summer to last forever, Beside me, my friends and I sat on a weathered wooden bench, our toes buried in the cool sand, watching the fiery orb’s descent. We were a tight-knit group, bound by years of collective experience and an endless supply of laughter. This trip has granted us a much-needed respite from the pressures of our daily lives. Like a dancer ending a lovely performance, the sunset symbolizes the passing of time and bidding farewell. Similar to a ballerina’s bow at the conclusion of a spellbinding performance, the descent unfurled with beauty and poise as it bid the world farewell. The waves lapped at the shore, synchronizing with our hearts. Seagulls soared overhead, their cries a symphony of freedom and longing. My partner, Denise, nestled close to me, her hand entwined with mine. Her eyes, the color of the ocean depths, reflected the shimmering hues of the setting sun, like two pools of liquid amber catching the last drops of daylight. We had found love in the golden days of summer, and this vacation had been our secret garden, where our love had blossomed and thrived. Our closest friends, Reggie and Gina, sat next to us and quietly stared at each other for a while. Reggie’s unwavering commitment to Gina was evident in how he held her, like a knight protecting his beloved from the world. As the sun touched the water, the sky turned a beautiful shade of orange and pink. The scene was even more magnificent in its reflection on the ocean. I wished our laughter would forever resonate on the shore, time would stand still, and this moment would endure eternally. As I made my silent plea to the heavens, something extraordinary happened. The sun hesitated, caught in a moment of indecision. It lingered in a celestial pause that seemed to defy the laws of nature. The world seemed to hold its breath, suspended in this enchanted stillness. Gasps of astonishment filled the air as we watched the celestial spectacle. Unexpectedly, the sun, the wellspring of all existence, withdrew as though time had enigmatically reversed its course. It ascended with a newfound vibrancy, casting a brilliant blaze of colors across the beach as if the universe had granted us a second act. Metaphors spun through my mind like fireflies on a summer night. As the sun rose, it brought with it a tune long forgotten, one that had returned to serenade us. This melody reminded us that, while we often long for the past to remain, the future holds the key to hidden treasures. Denise’s fingers tightened around mine, her eyes brimming with wonder and a touch of mystery. “It’s like a hidden revelation,” she murmurs. I nodded, caught in the moment. “A waltz with fate,” I replied. Reggie and Gina, equally awestruck, exchanged a knowing look. “A romance scripted among the constellations,” Reggie pondered. As the sun continued its ascent, the hidden meanings of this extraordinary event unraveled before us. It was a reminder that time is not a relentless river but a winding path of possibilities. It urged us to cherish the present, for it held the power to reshape our future. With newfound resolve, we left the bench behind and ventured towards the water’s edge. The waves welcomed us, like the embrace of a long-lost friend, into the ocean’s depths. Laughter filled the air as we danced and splashed in the waves like children caught in a world of enchantment. Experiencing the rush of excitement sweeping over you is undeniably exhilarating. A shadow passed over the beach. The sun, which had burned so brilliantly, dimmed. Panic gripped us as we watched the sun’s light slowly fade. “What’s happening?” Gina cried out. The sun, now a mere ember, appeared ensnared by fate. It was a cruel twist, a reminder that even the most bewitching moments could be fleeting. Amid our despair, a voice, soft as a whispered secret, reached our ears. I met a woman with eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of countless sunsets. She said, “Life is like a fleeting moment, and we must cherish every precious second”. She reminded us we cannot contain time, no matter how much we long for the past to stay, as her words lingered in the air like a spell. The sun, once again, began its descent, sinking below the horizon and leaving behind a trail of stardust in the twilight. We returned to the bench with a sense of acceptance, like explorers who had glimpsed a hidden treasure destined to return home. The sun’s final descent was a poignant reminder that life is a gallery of fleeting moments, each a masterpiece of its own. As darkness settled over the beach, we huddled together, our hearts heavy with the weight of our revelation. The diamonds of the stars shone brightly against the canvas of the night sky, bringing solace and strength to our hearts. Our vacation last night has brought us full circle, from wishing for a never-ending summer to accepting the passage of time. Every star had a story to uncover as we observed them. In their shimmering light, we found the promise of fresh starts. It occurred to me as I lay on the sand and looked up at the many constellations overhead that the sun’s unusual reversal might have been more than a coincidence. Something in the air--a whisper in the wind--suggested a profound truth was waiting to be exposed. As the night wore on, we drifted into a dreamless slumber, the echoes of the evening’s enchantment still reverberating in our hearts. Upon awakening, the sun rose, renewing hope. We gathered our belongings, preparing to leave the beach behind and return to our everyday lives. As we left the hallowed shore, I could not help but carry the memory of that extraordinary evening with me like a cherished talisman. The sun’s cycle left us with a gift: appreciation for the present and wonder about the universe’s mysteries. We departed from the beach filled with gratitude for the time shared and the mystery of that unforgettable night. The truth that life itself is a dance made up of transitory, one-of-a-kind events is what we ultimately remember, not the sun’s quirky waltz. I could not help but smile as I took my last look back at the vanishing shoreline. The warmth of that special evening will remain in our memories, inspiring us to cherish every moment and dance gracefully amidst the symphony of life. Memories endure, illuminating our journey even after holidays and sunsets, reflecting the beauty of each step we take.


“We’re running out of time,” he said, yanking my arm harder, “come on.” An hour earlier... My breath quickened as I started to wake. The air was stale and tight. My eyes only saw darkness due to the black handkerchief tied tightly around my head. Thoughts were running through my mind like a train that had just hopped off the tracks, but I attempted to focus on the outside noises. I flinched as the van sped, hitting a bump causing me to flop, slamming my tailbone into the cold metal. Wincing as I resituated, I listened. I could only hear soft traffic sounds in the far distance, making me think I was being driven out to the countryside. I took a deep breath and whispered, “hello.” I cringed at the silence. I had guessed I was alone on this ride, but I was hoping to hear a small voice hiding in another corner. My hands started to ache from the cold, hardening the plastic zip ties around my wrists. I kept rubbing them together, trying to gain relief or loosen the connection, but it’s been unsuccessful. Pushing my back against the van wall caused me to shiver. I was indeed developing ghastly wet pit stains under my arms due to the oozing sweat leaking from my body. I never realized someone could sweat so much in subzero temperatures. My joints even stiffened from the chilled air. I huffed as I thought about the stupid outfit choice I had decided to wear tonight. I leaned my head back into the van wall as tears filled my eyes. What is happening? It had just gotten dark, and my two girlfriends arrived on time to pick me up for a night on the town. We had a plan to visit this new nightclub that was only five blocks away from my apartment. I can be a bit modest, so my original outfit fit my personality. Jenni insisted I change as she rummaged through my closet recklessly. I absolutely hated the dress she and Nikki decided on, but to be more “fun,” as they put it, I pulled it on with internal sadness. Another chill ran through my spine as my naked knee scraped against the metal floor as the van jutted forward. Awkwardly twisting my tied hands over my body, I tried to yank the hem of the dress further below my butt, but I was ineffective. The heat of my breath filled my nose as I struggled again to free myself. Why? Why am I here? The van abruptly stopped, causing my elbow to wedge into some crease sending severe pain radiating into my shoulder. The silence was damning. I strained to hear something, anything. A few moments passed, and I heard a door slam producing a sway into the belly of the van. My mind raced again. What could I do? If the doors open, should I run, should I stay still, should I start shouting for help? Tiny droplets of light beaded through the handkerchief as I heard the back door creak open. My body shook from the rush of iced air filling the space as the door must be now wide open. “You, okay?” I didn’t respond to the man’s voice. It sounded like a man. His body spray infused around me, singeing the tiny hairs in my nose. It was shadowy and pine-like. It reminded me of the scent my brother used during his senior year of high school. “Miss?” He said again. I found myself stuck in place, frozen in time. As much as I wanted to say something, my mouth had locked in fear. “What do you want me to do?” He yelled. I could only hear a faint response. Unable to understand what the person in the distance said, I leaned forward as far as possible without being obvious. Drilling my knee into the head of a metal screw on the base, I grimaced to keep my position. I unintentionally started to shake from the chill that now consumed the van. Trying to focus, I sucked in the cold air. It burned as it hit the back of my throat. I pulled my knees closer to my chest, keeping my ankles tightly together--this stupid, stupid dress. My mind was so blurry from the evening. Even though my eyes were covered, I forcefully closed them, attempting to remember anything before I knew this person, this energy I felt in front of me would rip me out of here. I pushed back into the wall tightly as I felt it starting to move. Someone was getting in. “Hello,” I squeakily whispered. “Ah, she speaks,” the man laughed, “we’re here,” he said, shuffling around. I could feel the van rocking back and forth. My heart sunk. In these few moments, I had grown accustomed to this van. I didn’t want to leave it. His body spray was still as heavy as ever as he got closer in proximity, but with him no longer blocking the doorway, I wafted smells of nature and ice. I tried hard to stop shaking, but the temperature combined with my fear wasn’t helping. Realizing I hadn’t said anything other than hello, I racked my brain for something else to say. “Where’s here?” I shouted, sucking in the air. I was unsure why I yelled that, but I couldn’t understand anything right now. Scared that there was no response from the man, I muttered, “are you there?” “Yes,” he said, “I heard you.” Taken back that he was unwilling to answer my question, I shook more. It was becoming more and more uncontrollable. Although it hurt, I pushed my back harder into the wall behind me. My legs were not bound together. I could make a run for it, but I don’t think I’d get far in this dress, with my eyes covered and my wrists tied. I hardened as I felt a hand touch the bare skin on my right upper arm. “It’s okay,” he whispered with a small laugh, “are you able to stand? We have a short walk.” “Where are we going?” I crackled. “Can’t say yet,” he said. I could feel it coming as my lower lip trembled involuntarily. A breath escaped hard, and the smell of body spray and my angst made me sick. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, placing now both of his hands on me. “It’s okay, and you don’t have to be scared. You’ll see. Deep breath, okay.” I was unable to respond, “I told them this was a bad idea,” he muttered under his breath. “Told who?” I shouted. I didn’t even know where that came from. “Come on,” he said, pulling on my shoulders, attempting to make me stand, but I couldn’t as much as I wanted to. I had been in this position for so long that my body ached at the idea of moving. I was glued to the van. He pulled again, thinking I was unwilling to work with him, and it hurt slightly. “I’m trying,” I said shakily, not wanting him to yank me again and holding back a sob, “it’s cold, and I’m sore.” “No problem,” he said. I felt his hands move to my ankles. Slowly he pulled my feet from under my behind, straightening my legs. I cringed as my knee scraped against the screw head as it crossed, wedging my dress further up my thigh. “Sorry,” he said coolly. “It’s okay,” I said, calming down. He seemed nice, or perhaps I had already started to feel what they call Stockholm syndrome. I started shaking. Vomit felt like it was at the base of my throat. “You’ll need to scoot forward to get out,” he said. His voice interrupted the shock that began to fill my soul. I bent my knees slightly. I can do this. I’ll run. My legs did feel better. Sliding my butt forward, I reached my feet as far as possible, and my toes hit the open door’s breeze. Now realizing where the edge was, I scooted until I was dangling from the edge of the entrance. The rush of excitement filled me at the possibility of escape, and the cold was beginning to feel more welcoming. Without thinking, I slid off the edge with my newfound confidence, touching my feet to the ground. As I straightened my stilettos and found my footing, I felt this independence for a few seconds. I crossed my arms over my body and tugged the dress down. The air around me was unambiguous, but I picked up this new scent once outside. Something musty and stagnant. It was thick and sweaty. I scrunched my nose, “what is that?” I said. “You’ll see,” I heard quickly. I stumbled as he pulled my tethered wrists forward. “Whoa,” I said, “could you at least remove the eye cover.” “I can’t,” he said sternly, “come on.” Digging my heels into the ground again, I could feel wet snow pushing through the straps of my shoes, soaking my bare skin. I took a step forward, but the now melted snow accumulated between the inner sole and my foot, causing me to slip. An unexpected sob was creeping into my psyche. I stuttered a few breaths trying to keep pace with whoever this man was dragging me ahead. I couldn’t understand why that new smell was so pungent, but I couldn’t hear a thing--only our crunching footsteps and breath. Every few moments, I noticed the sound of a car far off in the distance. I sighed low. I hoped Jenni and Nikki were okay. After I’d changed this evening, we had a few shots of green apple vodka at my house. It had been in my freezer for eleven and a half months. It was one of the only things my ex left behind. That’s why Jenni and Nikki had shown up tonight. Stacy had left so abruptly. We were together for two years. We had a cat, an apartment, and a life together. I came home after work one day, and she was gone. A solo letter sat on the table. I repeatedly read my name on the cover until I had the nerve to open it. Long story short, she apologized, said she had found someone else, and took the cat--the vodka as a consolation prize. Present “We’re running out of time,” he said, yanking my arm harder, “come on.” I stopped walking and jerked my hands away from him. The air went silent without the crunching of our footsteps, and the smell of sweat was growing stronger. “Sir, I need to know what is happening. I’m freezing, my feet hurt, and I don’t want to do this anymore,” I said, straightening my stance and pulling my dress down again. There was nothing but silence. It felt darker outside, too, because no glimpse of light was coming through the handkerchief. My once strong stance was already starting to crumble. That may have been a bad idea. My ears tingled as crunching footsteps got closer. I yelped as my legs flew up from under me and my head flung back. The body spray hit me in the face as the heat of his chest pushed against my side. “Hey!” I shouted, squirming in his arms as he began to walk, carrying me like a large dog. The crunching of his feet in the snow filled the air again, but this time I could hear the beat of his drumming heart exerting energy. His warm breath hit my cheek with each stride. As much as I hated it, it was a pleasant mint, and I had been so cold. My body started to lose tension as I gave in. Although it hadn’t been that long, I was exhausted. I didn’t want to give in, but I conceded, resting my tied hands on my crunched lap. My body bounced up and down with each step he took. Now, I was beginning to wonder what this man looked like. His arms felt big and muscular. They were tightly wrapped around my back and under my legs. He hadn’t been aggressive. Although forceful, his touch has been light. He had some plush jacket on because I could feel the waterproof material touching parts of my skin. It had to be unzipped because his inner shirt had been dragging against his chest, moving with my body on every step. His upper body felt chiseled. Ugh, I stopped myself, sucking in another breath of body spray. Squeezing my eyes closed under my handkerchief guard, I listened to the man’s breathing and heavy footsteps. After the vodka shots, Jenni, Nikki, and I left my apartment. A slight headache developed the more I thought about the shots. I remember locking the door behind me. The street was busy. We’d walked about a block when Nikki wanted to run into the convenience store that was lit up like a Christmas tree for gum. I remember watching her at the counter paying. My head jutted forward, and my legs swung against the air as the man squeezed his arms tighter around me, pushing a gasp of air from my chest. “Sorry,” he said, “missed a step.” He lifted me slightly to resituate his hold, pulling me in closer, but I noticed another sound this time. Instead of focusing on the crunching snow, I searched for the soft noise. I listened closely to the tiny thumps of a beat. This man’s breath was interrupting my attention, but it was nearby. “We’re almost there,” he said, stopping, “sorry, the van broke down back there.” My breath caught as I thought about what he said. I didn’t understand. The smell of sweat grew more robust as he started to walk again, and I was beginning to hear the music noise more clearly. “What’s going on?” I said. “See for yourself,” he said, slowly lowering my feet to the ground. My legs felt rigid again, and I was so cold. I shivered as my toes slid further into the straps of my stilettos. The man placed his hand on either side of me, helping me to steady myself. The beat of the music was louder, and tiny glints of light were peering through the handkerchief. I could see an outline of a door in front of me. His hands began to move from my side up to my head. He yanked the tie of the handkerchief. “Ow,” I yelped. “Sorry,” he said, moving slower to loosen it. It fell from my eyes, finally allowing me to see the world around me. A large metal door was in front of me, glistening from the one pendant light above it. The thumping music was rumbling through the creases of the door, and the smell of people was noticeably spicy. The building was large and industrial. On the right was a large parking lot packed with vehicles. I scrunched my nose in confusion, turning around to see my captor. There he was, a tall, well-built man. He reached his hand out to me, “Taylor,” he said. I just stared at him. He had a buzzed head of hair and crispy brown eyes. His smile widened at my examination. “Oh,” he said, reaching into his pocket. I shuddered, thinking this might be it. The end of the line. He tilted his head, questioning my reaction, and smirked, pulling a pair of scissors from his pocket. He motioned for me to lift my hands. I did and watched as he snipped my wrists free. “Gia,” I said, slightly stunned while rubbing my wrists. “Sorry about all this, Gia, but Jenni and Nikki swore me to secrecy. I’m still not supposed to say anything. I’m to coerce you into the door behind you.” I looked beyond his head and saw nothing but woods and snow. No lights, no highway, no nothing. He turned around, following my eyes, raising his hand to point. “The van is back there. Again, I’m super sorry. It literally just broke down. It’s my cousin’s, so who knows,” he shrugged. I furrowed my brow and stared at him. I was still so lost in all this. “I’ll make it up to you in there. I promise,” he said, smirking, grabbing my attention, and motioning to the door. Deciding I had no choice and was desperate to get answers. I turned back to the door. I hadn’t noticed before, but there’s no doorknob. Turning back to Taylor... “just push it,” he said in anticipation of my coming question. I sucked in one last breath of countryside, cold, and body spray, leaned forward, and pushed the door significantly. The noise barreled through the opening of the door, straining my ears. I had been so used to the silence it stunned me. The space was dark but vomited laser-colored lights from every corner. It was people on top of people, on top of people dancing, screaming, and drinking. There is a bar straight ahead. I saw two men spinning and dancing in a lit disco cage to my right. My mouth unintentionally dropped open as I turned around to find Taylor. “SURPRISE!” I stumbled backward from the tremored scream of two women. My eyes focused, and with my mouth still hanging open, my brain registered them, Nikki and Jenni. “Gia! You needed this!” Nikki said, grabbing my arm. “Let’s get you a drink,” Jenni said, meeting at my opposing side, “we heard you had some car trouble. Did we get you? Were you so scared?” Still unable to answer, I let them drag me to the bar, and waiting was Taylor, with four bright blue shots. “Death to green apple!” He shouted.


Today’s the day I change. No! Seriously, I am so over being forced to lock myself up every full moon. Especially after last week, you would never believe what happened. I was about to start locking up a few minutes before the full moon, when my grandma decided to pay me a visit. Since she owned the little place I call home, she decided to let herself in with the spare set of keys she insisted on taking from me. As for what happened next, doesn’t quite require any explanation. Grandmas and wolves are not a good combination, especially when you’re a werewolf. Well, at least now I own the place. Now you know why I need to find a cure, and there is only one creature who can help me and that is a witch. They are just as hard to find as some other old lady willing to fill the vacant position of grandma in my life. Lucky for me, I know someone who may be willing to help me find a witch, Peter. Peter is the leader of a small group of goblins. He and his group were all forced to mine right below Count Dracula’s mansion for blood pepper root, which is the root of the spiciest peppers in existence. When Dracula became a vegetarian, he decided to start eating the roots of blood peppers. It’s not relevant to how I’m going to find the cure so let us proceed. I went to Peter’s cave, just off the south coast of Transylvania, and managed to pull a few strings until he agreed to help me. He never wanted to have to see my face again. We hitched a lift on a dragon. A few days later, we arrived in Scotland. Peter suggested that we should spend the night at his cousin Oliver’s hotel known as ‘’Macbeth’s palace’’. We did so but regretted it instantly. The entire hotel smelled of moth balls and garlic. We decided to leave before breakfast as we could only imagine what atrocities would be waiting for us at the breakfast table. We made it about a mile away from the hotel, when we heard the thundering sound of hooves pounding the cobbled road. It was Peter’s Cousin, Oliver. He handed us a letter with no name on it and galloped off. We opened the envelope to find a little note saying ‘’travel to the witches shack’’ written in a neat golden handwriting. That is exactly what we did. A few full moons later we were smashed on the back of the head by some fairly smelly creatures. I suddenly regained consciousness as an old woman was wafting some foul scented mud in my direction. I stood up, knees shaking and realised that the old woman seemed to be blind. As I took a shaky step forward, there was a crunch under my foot. Looking down I saw a skull which was about two thirds of the average size of a human skull. The old woman didn’t turn her head in my direction. I was about to continue when she smiled and picked up a doll. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach as I confirmed in my mind that she was a witch. She gingerly held the doll there in her hands for a few seconds, until with one fluid movement she dropped the doll on to the floor. I screamed as I fell to the floor like a boulder. She stayed still for a few minutes as I struggled to breathe, then she told me that voodoo dolls are tricky little things. Your friend Peter resisted and paid the price she said. She picked the doll up and put it back on the shelf as I regained control of my movements. ‘’Let’s talk’’ she told me. After we had a talk it all made sense, well sort of. Anyway, the witch’s name was Catherine, and she was going to turn four hundred and twelve that same week. She knew I was travelling to find a cure, and she almost had all the ingredients needed; but she needed a dragon’s egg to complete the cure. She told me where to find the last colony of dragons and that I had better hurry if I wanted to get an egg before they hatched. I arrived at Buckingham palace that same day. It had been abandoned for centuries, or at least that’s what I’d been told. There were dragons circling the palace and occasionally swooping down to pick up some poor prey. There was a zombie at the entrance but no other visible life-forms. I hurried down along the dungeon passage to find the secret entrance. After a few good hours of searching, I found the right waterfall and walked right through it. There, on a pedestal was an egg that seemed to be glowing walked up to it, mesmerized, picked it up and started walking back the way I had come. That is when all hell broke loose. The floor, walls and ceiling started to crumble. I ran and didn’t stop until I was back in the open air outside the palace. There were at least four dragons after me. So, I did the normal thing to do, I ran. Okay, it wasn’t the normal thing to do but it was definitely the most instinctive thing to do. Three of the dragons lost interest in me, but one remained and kept up the chase. I arrived at ‘’the witches shack’’ and at once gave the egg to the witch and went to hide in the far corner. The dragon roared as the witch went to greet it. The dragon left the shack. And the witch told me we need to wait for the egg to hatch. The next day the egg hatched, I know this because I woke up with a small rabbit sized dragon biting my nose. The witch picked up the dragon and put it on the counter near a cauldron that appeared out of nowhere. Catherine lit the fire below the cauldron and started chanting what sounded like her spell. ‘’Frogs tongue, blood pepper root, a wizard’s curse, a demon’s horn, a wolf’s howl and a dragon’s child’s hair.’’ Now we need to leave it to set, so that it will be ready for you to drink it on the next full moon. The following month, Catherine took me to a little shed before the full moon started and chained me up. She left nothing to chance. I was bound by my arms and legs and after putting a muzzle on me we waited for the moon to rise. She waited an hour after the moon was up and then gave me the cure. It worked almost instantly, reversing the dreaded, horrific, monthly process. Within seconds I was human again. I went back to my old home, yes, the one where I had eaten my grandma and lived the rest of my life as a normal human. A totally transformed human, convinced that no more change was required!


Prologue I’m an adult now. I’ve got bills, and rent, and I have to put gas in my car. I’ve damaged my body over the years and I feel it more now than back then. I have a hard time sleeping. On the outside I look mostly normal. Caucasian male, standing about 5’9” and 155lbs. Later on in my life I’ve come to learn that I’m actually quite beautiful. I also really enjoy my privacy, so if you’re readying this and you know who I am, please keep quiet. Also, I’m not a writer. People who know of me would say I’m a good enough person. I give money to homeless people and I take good care of my friends and I treat my significant others well. I’ve got a good relationship with my mother. I’ve been known to stick up for the weaker person more than once in my life. The people that know me a bit more personally would tell you that I’ve got a bit of a dark side. I’ve got a tendency to disregard rules. I’ve pushed the envelope many times. I’ve committed crimes when it suited me. I’m charismatic, I always have been. I didn’t really understand that until my 20s. I never really cared much for image or sex appeal unless it was to get something that I wanted. I’m very good at that, getting the things I want. It’s certainly a contributing factor to my hedonistic tendencies. I’m a great liar with an amazing poker face. I’ve got a knack for being hyper analytical. I generally lack remorse and regret. I’m not known for being merciful. I’m mostly driven by purpose. There is little I do without forethought, and I’m a great tactician. When I decide to do something, I always seem to make it happen. It’s always been that way. On to the point This is about when I was younger.


NB (swearing and indications of abuse) Jim strolled into the drawing room. It smelled of furniture polish, perfume and after shave. He stood before the ornate fireplace, his hands held loosely behind his back. His eyes skimmed the mostly bowed heads and solemn faces. The huge gold-framed mirror behind him reflected the multi-faceted chandelier. In the centre of the room stood an oval mahogany table and six chairs everyone had avoided. Instead, they crowded on the three sofas and four armchairs scattered about the drawing room. Jim took an in-breath and began. I’m sure everyone here is aware of my granddad Harry Grimes’ death in Thailand two days ago. He was in some small remote village where he had a heart-attack and then someone stole all his belongs. Luckily, the police traced him to a local hotel and then they were able to inform me of his death. Some remote village? Heart attack? More like spending too much time in a house of ill repute. Low moans and grunts reverberated around the oak panelled room. Harry was an amazing character. We all loved him. I’m sure all of you in this room loved him and will miss him as much as I do. Jim gazed at the bowed heads. One woman wiped her nose on a paper tissue. A man covered his mouth as he gave out a gentle cough. He was an arsehole. Everybody loathed him, including me. He helped many people. Always with a smile on his face, asking what he could do for them. So long as there was money in it. When we had that terrible snowstorm two winters ago, Harry went to nearly every house in the village and cleared their snow for them. He didn’t ask them if they wanted it cleared. He did it anyway. He was selfless. He went back later and asked for money from each of them. He always looked after the elderly and the most vulnerable in the village first. Always. Yea, the vulnerable so they didn’t know he was frisking them and the elderly ‘cause they had tonnes of dosh and he knew it. He really was a kindly soul throughout his life, and I am sure he is greatly appreciated now that he is in Heaven. More like he’s gone straight to hell. Harry kept some livestock, as you all know. He knew a great deal about animals, sheep, cattle, dogs. He also rescued animals and got them back on their feet and found them new homes. I have one of Harry’s dogs myself. It was extremely thin when I first got it off Harry, but it is fine now, and Harry helped me look after it. Told me what to feed it and stuff like that. He was very good to me regarding the stray dog. I’ve seen him ill-treat those animals. Cows he left un-milked until he got some poor neighbourhood kid to do the job and work for nothing. Animals left in filthy conditions. He didn’t care about the creatures at all, he just wanted to look good in the neighbourhood. Good old Harry, the dog and cat rescuer. Harry loved sport. Not the kind of sport you’ve got in mind. He enjoyed chasing balls around the football pitch. Harry would be the first to admit he was not that good at football, but he enjoyed a run around at weekends with the boys in the field. If you think chasing boys is a sport, then yes, Harry really enjoyed that. He’d pretend to chase the football and have a fumble, I mean tumble, with one of the lads. And he’d give the lads the run-around in the showers afterwards. My brother’s friend Jack told me all about it that night we had our first kiss behind the rhododendrons out the back. It was Dave’s party and I really fancied Jack, and he fancied me back then. He told me all about Granddad Grimes and what he used to get up to on and off the football field. Harry was very good with his hands, too. Too right. Handy Harry, the girls at the club, called him. A hand on your backside or a hand around your waist that slowly crept up and up. I’m sure there isn’t one person here who has not been on the receiving end of Harry’s generosity and his handiwork. I know he often came to our house to mend a cupboard or shelf or re-do a bit of wiring. He was a carpenter by trade and, as far as I know, he did his apprenticeship. A brilliant man when it comes to wood. Would you come round the back with me for a minute? Would you like to come and see the stray dogs I’ve got in at the moment? Would you like to see the litter of kittens that Maisie, the stray cat, just had? Yep, he was very good with ‘would’. Harry was a gentleman through and through. Harry was no gentleman he was a lousy deceiving git. Now that Harry has left us, we are short of an accountant at the club. Harry did the job well for what must have been twenty years. It was a voluntary position, as you all know. Now we need a new accountant or at least a stand in until we can get things sorted out further. I’m hoping somebody here at this extraordinary meeting will volunteer the job. I have someone in mind, but first I want to put it out to all of you to give everyone a fair chance at the job. So, hands up if you feel like volunteering. Fidgeting and feet shuffling noises resounded around the room. No-one raised their hand. I want to know exactly how the scumbag forged our signatures and syphoned all that money from the club without anyone finding out. You don’t get to own a holiday home in Florida and another one in Spain with the kind of pension Handy Harry got each month. I knew he was up to something, and he knew I knew. Mary raised her hand. I’ll do it. Thank you, Mary. I was hoping you would. I know you have a maths degree and some accountancy knowledge. If you hadn’t put your hand up, then I was going to ask you to volunteer, anyway. I’ll give you the keys to the safe and filing cabinet before you leave today. Now, if there are no questions, then you’ll find tea and sandwiches in the kitchen. I hope we can all stay for a while and reminisce about my wonderful Grandad Harry Grimes. I can’t wait to get my hands on those accounts and find out EXACTLY how Harry syphoned off all that money.....


“ We shouldn't have done that.” “I know,” Sarah sighed, breathless. “ But I couldn't hold back any longer.” “ Me neither” Tom confessed, guiltily. “For weeks I've been thinking about doing this, but I kept telling myself that I shouldn't. It'll hurt me as much as everyone else.” “Sometimes, we have to give into our instincts. It's only natural.” Sarah reasoned. “But I can't keep this a secret. We're going to have to tell Mark what we've done.” Tom looked mortified. “We can't! He'd be so angry with us, me in particular. I initiated this.” Tom rung his hands together in an unconscious reenactment of what Mark would do to him, if he found out their secret. “We have to! I couldn't live with the thought of what we've just done.” Sarah lowered her head in shame. She had always been the type to tell the truth, even when the consequences, would be worse for her. When Tom and Sarah met two years before, she found herself telling him about her life, her family and her weight problems. She had never felt so comfortable with a man before then. She told Tom about the way in which Mark had made her feel ashamed about how she looked and she how he pointed out all of the things that were wrong with her. No matter how hard Sarah tried though, her efforts were never enough. It wasn't so much what Mark said, it was the looks of reproach and almost disgust, that made Sarah feel useless. He would look at her in the mirror and sigh at the sight of her. “But do we have to tell him the truth? This could be a one off and we can go on as if nothing had happened.” Tom shrugged to show that what they had done, was really no big deal. “How can I explain where I've been today then? I was supposed to meet him at three.” They both looked at the clock. The time was 4.30. It was getting darker early now, with the onset of winter. “You can tell him that you bumped into a friend, you got talking and lost track of the time. It's not exactly a lie, is it?” Sarah paused, thinking about whether or not she could say that to Mark. “I don't know,” Sarah answered, biting her lip. Sarah always did this when she was nervous or considering something. Tom found this very endearing, almost sexy. “Could I tell him that? Would he believe me?” “Of course he would!” Tom wanted Sarah to go along with his idea, not just for her sake, but his own. “It nothing out of the ordinary, things like that happen all of the time.” “Yeah, I suppose...” The pair remained silent. Tom was relieved that it looked like Sarah was going to accept his idea. The silence was broken by Sarah. “But what if we want to do this again? It was difficult to stop the urge the first time.” “We won't.” Tom insisted. “This will be the last time.” Tom was definite, but Sarah could detect a hint of regret in his voice. Thinking about it, Sarah wasn't sure that she wanted this to be the last time either. Without warning, Sarah rose, jolting Tom out of the way. “I've made a decision. I'm going to tell Mark.” “You can't!” Tom rose from his spot. “I thought we decided to keep this afternoon between you and me.” Sarah tied her trainers and grabbed her coat. “Sarah! Wait!” Tom called to the empty space, as the door closed. “Shit!” Tom grabbed his things and ran out, to stop Sarah from revealing their secret. It wasn't just the consequences of their actions that he was worried about. It was the fact that he and Sarah had a secret that was theirs, it was time that they had spent, just the two of them. He didn't want to admit it, but Tom had fallen in love with Sarah. He didn't care about the way she looked. He loved her sense of humour, they never had awkward silences between them and he loved that she loved geeky things, like he did. He had to say though, that when he thought about her smile, her eyes and her curvy body, a shiver of pleasure ran through him. “Sarah! Sarah!” Tom ran out into the car park of the fast food restaurant, nearly getting himself run over, by a car pulling out of the drive through. “You can't stop me!” Sarah strode with determined focus, towards her car. She pressed the fob on her key ring, the light flashed, indictating that the car was unlocked. “I'm going to tell Mark that we've just eaten a Double cheese burger and fries.” Tom reached Sarah's car. Out of breath, he leaned against the car. “Well ok.” Tom sighed in defeat. "Just don't tell Mark about the milkshake. You know how many calories are in them!” “Look!” the look of panic went out of Sarah's face. “We're adults. Why should we care what some bully of a personal trainer thinks? We don't have to hide our secret. If we want to eat a burger now and then, what's the problem?” “Exactly!” Tom smiled, suddenly felt more confident about confronting their personal trainer,Mark. “I mean, you don't need to put up with that creep. He's nothing but a power hunger gym bunny, who gets his kicks by putting people down. You're beautiful, just as you are.” Sarah was stunned by what Tom had just said “I....I don't know what to say. I thought we were friends.” “We are, but..” Tom wasn't even sure that he should say what came next, but he knew that he had to, “I had hoped that we could be a bit more...” Tom thought for a moment that his friendship with Sarah was over. They could never go back to being friends, if she didn't feel the same way as he did. Then, without warning, Sarah leaned in closer and kissed him. “Well I think we can arrange that.” They stayed silence for a moment, before Sarah opened the car door and got into the driver's seat. “Come on, what are you watiing for? We've got gym subscriptions to cancel.” Tom smiled broadly and got into the car. Both of them felt light, knowing that however Mark reacted to what they were about to tell him, they would deal with this together.


Mr. Pepper and his wife Sonya as well as their two sons Brandon, who is twelve years old and Anthony who is fourteen years old. The family has two guests, 13 year old twin cousins named Mark and Luke. Mrs. Pepper is getting supper prepared for everyone, her husband is writing a business presentation on his computer, the two cousins are playing computer baseball against each other as Anthony is finishing the third page of his English report as Brandon is working on his science project that needs the power of electricity. All of a sudden, all the power goes out and Anthony screams as he just lost his whole English assignment, Mr. Pepper's business preparation is erased, all the lights go out in the whole house and the two cousins yell at each other- who has won the computer baseball game. Anthony yells at Brandon, what did you do to cause the power to go out!! Everyone gathers in the living room after each group finds a flashlight. The sun is shining brightly, with no clouds, so lightening is not the reason for the power outage. Anthony says Brandon must have done something wrong with his science project. Their father says "Not likely". The parents talk to each other, was the power bill paid? Sonya says: " Yes, four days ago, here's the payment". Mr. Pepper talks to his neighbors. Everyone's power has gone out. One of the neighbors has an adult son who is a city police officer. The non emergency call to the police department, Mr. Pepper and his neighbor learn there was an automobile accident and during the accident someone knocked over a utility pole and power is out in the entire city. The cousins say aloud: " Looks like pizza tonight". Anthony and Brandon tell their cousins: " Not likely as landlines don't work when their is no power. Mr. Pepper has an idea, he tells the boys Brandon and Anthony to get paper plates from the pantry as well as plastic utensils. The two boys quickly help their mother get everything back into the refrigerator. Chef Boyardee is served on the picnic table in the backyard. When supper is eaten and the garbage is thrown out, everyone enjoys a kickball game in the backyard- 3 versus 3. The game is played for an hour. The power has not been restored so Mr. Pepper tells his sons Brandon and Anthony to set up the dome tent in the back yard. The boys also check, there are enough sleeping bags for everyone for the night. The sun is now setting on a September evening, so everyone sits in a campfire circle, however no fire is needed as the evening is hot. Mr. Pepper tells his two sons, with two cousins listening, the two reasons he asks his sons to look over each other's English essays is it helps with editing and each son has proof of having written their assignment, just in case a classmate writes something similar. Anthony states he has learned to save documents on the computer after every page finished. After a couple campfire games played outside in the backyard, a messenger comes to the circle and tells everyone, the power should be restored in about two hours, if not call the power company. Brandon and Anthony do a skit learned in Boy Scouts. Anthony pretends to be sitting at a campfire and Brandon pretends to be running from the forest yelling there is a bear coming. Anthony gets his two shoes on and then after a couple of steps, he stops and ties his shoelaces. Brandon yells: " What are you doing, there is a bear running this way and you stopped to tie your shoelaces". Anthony replied: I don't need to worry about out running the bear, I just need to outrun you". Everyone is laughing. Mr. Pepper tells everyone how he got a couple Scouts in his troop in trouble at Summer camp as the skit told to the Scouts called the Raisin Bread skit is considered dirty. Mr. Pepper disagreed as his Scoutmaster taught his troop the skit. In a period of a year, Mr. Pepper asks 100 males about the skit between the ages of eleven to seventy, fifty percent said it was dirty, fifty percent said it was " Not dirty". This led Mr. Pepper to go his oldest aunt, the one female to break the tie. He tells her where the skit came from and it was a lesson about not judging a book by its cover. Here's the skit: An English King had a cook who passed away. To avoid 400 applicants, the king stated an applicant must bring a sample piece of bread made and cooked. The first person brought white bread. King replies: " I hate white bread, it reminds me of a snowboarding accident, no job". The second applicant states: " I have rye bread". King replies: " I hate rye bread, it reminds me when my older brother was seriously bitten by a snake, no job. Third applicant tells the King: " I have raisin bread". King looks at it, smells it and even tastes it and he tells the third applicant he is the new cook. Twenty four hours later, the new cook tells the king he has rye bread. The king complains: " Being last you know I hate rye bread". Cook replies: " Sorry sir, but my rabbit died last night." The aunt stated that the skit was disgusting, however not dirty so the tie was broken. The cousins Luke and Mark are laughing and telling everyone they haven't had so much fun. They even tell Brandon and Anthony that they will be joining a Scout troop when they return home. During the evening in the backyard, a lunar eclipse occurred. Mark took the picture on his phone and e-mailed it to his cousin Brandon who received an "A" on the assignment. Anthony wrote about the fun with family due to a power outage. The parents showed love and companionship through the ordeal. Everyone was having so much fun, that no one realized the power had returned to the house until they woke up the next morning and heard noise from the house.


We hadn’t seen each other in two years, hadn’t spoken or even texted since then, until she liked my post about moving to the city and asked, in a comment, if she could show me the best coffee in Chicago. And I, having no friends and a roommate I’d just met and didn’t care for, said yes. She called me twenty minutes before we were supposed to meet. Her name flashed across my phone and I was momentarily confused. I hadn’t heard from her since our conversation in the Facebook comments, and had convinced myself we weren’t still meeting. After all, college acquaintances say all the time that they want to meet for lunch or coffee. They rarely mean it. I answered the phone and pitched my hello so high that she laughed. “Still on for today?” she asked, and I laughed too, because she sounded the same as always, and because it was a question that anyone else would have asked hours ago. She didn’t apologize for the late call. I told her yes, and she said she would put on shoes. It turned out that she lived above the coffee shop, not directly above, because that would be too cute, but above and slightly to the left. When I arrived, she was leaning against the wall, talking to a woman, and not looking for me. Though it was only February, she wore a long, flowing floral skirt and short boots, no jacket. Her hair was longer now, dyed a slightly darker brown, but aside from that she looked the same as I remembered: a summer day in the middle of winter. When she finally saw me, I lifted my hand in a small wave, suddenly uncertain of what I was doing here. We’d been classmates only twice despite majoring in the same subject. The two classes we shared together were the worst I took in all four years of college. We worked together on projects a few times, and she would grin at me across the room when our professor said something obnoxious. Once, we got lunch together, on a day when class was moved to 11 AM and got out at noon. I recalled her trailing me to the dining hall and sitting down at my table, without asking if she could. I walked towards her, suddenly very aware of my arms and legs, and trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with them when I was close enough. She solved that for me by pulling me into a hug. I stiffened, then relaxed as she pulled away and said how good it was to see me. I said it was good to see her too. And it was, in the way that it’s always good to see someone you haven’t seen in a while, like a reminder that you’re still alive, and there are people who know you even when you don’t see them and you never think of each other. A reminder that even in a sea of strangers, there are faces that you recognize and people who know strange little facts about you, such as where you put your pencil in proximity to your notebook when your professor is on a particularly rambling lecture. I felt anchored to the streets of Chicago for the first time since I’d arrived, no longer adrift in an unfamiliar sea. It wasn’t just her; it could have been anyone, and I would have felt the same way. Even if it was someone I hated. It was much nicer to feel anchored by someone I didn’t hate, though. When she released me, she waved me towards the door. "Shouldn't you say goodbye to your friend?" I asked, gesturing towards the woman. Her eyes crinkled and she said, "Her? I've never met her before today." We went inside, and my eyes drifted around, taking in the abundance of houseplants on the tables and counters and framed watercolors on the walls. She saw me looking and pointed, saying, “That one’s mine.” Somehow, I already knew this, even though I hadn't known she was an artist. The painting depicted a landscape, all hills and squat buildings bathed in early morning light, a dreamier version of our college campus. “It’s really good,” I said, because I wasn’t in the business of complimenting art or girls. She pointed again, this time to a chalkboard menu. “Tell me what you want to order, and then I’ll tell you if it’s a good idea.” I squinted to read the tiny print and said, “Maybe just a latte?” “Wrong,” she said. The line was getting shorter. “Cold brew?” “Wrong again,” she said, but her voice was teasing, not rude. “Do you want to just tell me what to get?” “Nope,” she said, “This is a teaching moment. Also, a learning moment. ‘Just a latte,’ really?” There was only one person in front of us. I frantically read the specials. “Honey lavender matcha latte?” I tried. She grinned. “Good choice. What kind of milk?” “I have to pick the milk?” It was our turn. She ordered for both of us, a honey lavender matcha latte with oat milk for me, and a black coffee for her. I waited until she had paid to say, “Really? Black coffee?” She laughed out loud, and it sounded even better than it had on the phone. I just shook my head, at a loss for words. We sat at a high table carved from wood. Her feet dangled from the stool and she swung them back and forth a little, making her skirt flutter. “Welcome to Chicago,” she said. “Why on earth are you here?” “Here with you, or here in general?” “Here in general, of course,” she said, casting a raised eyebrow at me. “I know why you’re here with me--you lack for fascinating company.” I told her, then, that I was going to grad school at UChicago in the fall but decided to move early. It wasn’t that exciting of a story on its own, but she nodded politely. The barista called our order then, and she got up to retrieve it. She placed the black coffee in front of me and winked. I thanked her, relieved, and got up to stir in sugar and milk. When I sat back down, she was sipping her matcha and looking at me with a curious expression. “I don’t think you’re being honest,” she said, and I didn’t have to ask what she meant. I started talking then, being honest. I told her that I had to get out of my parents’ house, and that my anxiety was getting worse, and that I’d hoped moving would help. I told her that I wasn’t sure why I was going to grad school, but that it seemed like the only logical next step. I told her those things and more, and the whole time she just sat there, sipping her drink. I felt compelled to tell her my secrets, as if bewitched. And maybe I was bewitched, in a way, but not because she was trying. After that day, I didn’t expect to hear from her, and I didn’t. The hour we’d spent in that coffee shop didn’t feel entirely real, and I held onto it as a sweet memory and nothing more. My time was occupied with unpacking, and learning my way around the city, and taking care of administrative tasks like opening new bank accounts, then figuring out how to use the ATM at my new bank. Grocery shopping, buying stamps. New adult, unglamorous things. And then it was March, and just as I felt settled, everything fell apart. Two months into the shutdown, when being stuck inside no longer felt like a fun challenge, I had given up any hope of it being temporary, and was beginning to contemplate cutting my own hair, my phone buzzed with a FaceTime notification while I was watching TV. It was so rare for anyone to call me that I jumped, and my confusion only grew when I saw her name. I answered, assuming it was a mistake, and expected her to hang up immediately. But there she was, wearing glasses, hair pulled back in a braid, sitting in a bedroom with the walls painted a deep purple, and she didn’t hang up when she saw me. “Hello!” she chirped. “How is the apocalypse treating you?” Dumbstruck, I started to say Oh, you know, holding up . That’s what I told everyone else. I knew it was what I should say. But one rogue brain cell struck out on its own and I said instead, “Honestly? Awful.” The words started to spill out then: “I feel awful all the time, and I wish I hadn’t moved here, and I hate that I feel awful because I’m just sitting in my apartment playing video games and watching TV, and people are dying or working in hospitals, and, and--” “Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “It’s okay.” “Sorry, I’m rambling.” “No, it’s fine,” she said as she shifted to lay down, feet kicked up behind her. “Do you want to talk about it more, or do you want to be distracted from it?” I thought for a moment. “Distracted,” I finally said, and she pushed her glasses up on her nose, as if preparing for a complicated assignment. It was a move I’d seen in class before, a gesture she did when she had an idea, always before she raised her hand. “Okay,” she said. “As you can probably tell from the hideous paint, I had to abandon the city and run home to the suburbs. So I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, but it’s been kind of crazy. I take a lot of long walks around cul de sacs these days.” She rolled her eyes, but there was a small grin on her face, suggesting she enjoyed those walks more than she wanted to admit. “Anyway. Time for a tour of my childhood bedroom!” She stood, and the video shook a little as she readjusted her phone and walked over to a closet. “This is a choose-your-own-adventure tour,” she said, and turned the camera so that I could see into the closet. I held my phone closer to my face, as if I were peering into it with her. “Pick a box. Any box.” “The one with the green lid.” “Diaries, notebooks, and old report cards,” she announced as she pried off the lid. “You got the jackpot on your first try.” For the next hour, she read to me from her journals, which were embarrassing, as expected, showed me her notes from high school classes, and disputed her teachers’ comments on her report cards. When I went to sleep that night, the only thing I could think of was a surprisingly poignant line from her seventh grade diary: I just want someone to acknowledge that I’m here, and I’m me, and they’re happy about it. She called me again the next night and told me that it was my turn. I reminded her that I had just moved in and didn’t have any exciting childhood memorabilia. “So? I didn’t say you had to do the same thing. I just said that it was your turn.” She was right, so I gave her a tour of my kitchen and made her guess which items belonged to me, and which to my roommate. She guessed correctly on almost every single one. Every night was like this. She would call me and have some new idea of how we could make our unchanging environments exciting. I assumed that eventually, it would fade away. She’d forget one night, and then another, and that would be that. I also assumed that she was calling a lot of other people, keeping herself busy, always the socialite, but when I told her that, sometime in the first week of June, she gaped at me. “You think I have the energy to be on FaceTime all day?” she asked. I shrugged. “I don’t even like FaceTime! I hate holding my phone up!” It was my turn to be surprised. “Wait, what? Why haven’t you told me? I hate FaceTime too. It’s the worst.” We both dissolved into giggles then, occasionally choking out something about how dumb we were, and after that I stopped assuming it would end. And we stopped using FaceTime and finally switched to Zoom, like everyone else. One day in July, she called me and when I answered, she was wearing a party hat and blowing up a balloon. She held the balloon between her fingers, keeping the air trapped inside while she announced, “It’s our fiftieth phone call!” It wasn’t until a week later, just before phone call 57, that I understood what was happening. I’d like to say it was gradual, but it wasn’t: basically, one day, I woke up and realized I loved her. I didn’t even feel dumb, like I should have known sooner. I didn’t feel nervous either. It was odd. I didn’t call her right away. I waited until our regular time, and for the first time ever, I was the one to call. She gasped dramatically when she answered and mimed a swoon. “To what do I owe the honor?” “I love you,” I said, and she laughed, and that only made me love her more.


Amidst the snow-capped Himalayas is unveiled a place of pristine heavenly beauty that is none other than Kashmir. The reason why this place intrigues me so much is - Just as the spectacular beauty it showcases in its lush green valleys, glaciers, and Mughal-era gardens so are the zeal and spirit of its residents. They have a burning desire to achieve the unfathomable. One such girl was Tara, who hailed from Srinagar, the capital of Kashmir. A 23 year old, smart and sensible with a good sense of humor was the darling of her parents. As she was born to them at a relatively older age, they pampered her and made sure she never had complaints. So, she was home-schooled and then went on to complete her bachelor's and master's from a prestigious university in Kashmir. So in a literal sense, ‘Life in a Nutshell’ to Tara just meant - ‘Home’ and ‘University’. All through her teenage years, Tara watched the neighborhood kids and university classmates indulge in fun and frolic. She had all the luxuries that she dreamt of, but soon she realized materialistic things could only get her momentary pleasure. Since then, every dusk and dawn, her parents would find her sitting quietly by the window, deeply lost in thoughts. Day by day, her parents grew more concerned about her this behavior. Nobody knew how much Tara longed for a chance to go out and explore the world on her own. That’s when she received an offer letter to work for a world-famous software company in Mumbai. She was thrilled on seeing this. Her parents were both happy and distressed at the same time; happy because they hadn’t seen their daughter so cheerful in a long while and sad as they knew she would be going miles away from them. And so the day had come when she was leaving her house for the first time with lots of goals to accomplish. She took her parents’ blessings and bid them farewell before boarding the flight. Her next destination was ‘The City of Dreams - Mumbai!!’ Tara still couldn’t believe that she had started a new chapter of her life as she gazed at those tall skyscrapers. The Queen’s Necklace - ‘The Marine Drive’ fascinated her the most while viewing from the plane. She didn’t want to miss out on anything this time. Although the next few months were hectic for her as she hustled between home and office, she did make sure to take out some time on weekends to hang out with colleagues or do solo travel. She was enjoying life to the fullest and her parents were contented. Time flew and Tara was transforming into a true Mumbaikar! Everything was going smoothly except for one night, at around 9 pm, just when Tara got back from the office all exhausted, she suddenly felt a sharp, cramping pain in her lower back and left side. She had never experienced such sort of terrible pain before. She used to stay all by herself in a 1 BHK apartment. Hence there was nobody to help her. Neither did she have any emergency medicines in hand. She suddenly collapsed onto the floor but was still conscious. She felt suffocated and started gasping. It was that time of the year when the bitter cold would force you to stay indoors and that’s when Tara had to go through all this. She suddenly remembered her parents and started weeping. The clock struck 10 and there were still no signs of the pain-reducing. Tara lay there sobbing in pain for nearly 2 hours, rolling to and fro on her carpet. Suddenly, in that silence, her phone buzzed displaying a new message, but what caught her attention was the wallpaper and not the message. It said in big words - ‘The Pain - It will leave once it has finished teaching you’. She didn’t know exactly why she had to go through so much suffering alone. But now she accepted this as a challenge and decided to get rid of it, come what may! She didn’t want to be a burden to anybody so late in the night. Hence, she mustered up the courage and rose to her feet, grabbed her trench coat, and walked out of her building, her head held high. Chilly winds were blowing at the speed of 39-46 mph. There was not a soul on the streets and there was Tara, struggling to walk against these strong gushing winds desperately in search of a clinic or hospital. Despite the temperature being awfully low that night, the chilly breeze gave some relief to the burning pain that she felt down her spine. A few cars passed, but sadly none stopped by to offer help. This gave her all the more willpower to fight this alone. Soon after she had crossed two lanes and headed for the third, she spotted a gentleman stepping out of his clinic and locking the front door. Her heart knew no bounds. Suddenly, all her grief just seemed to disappear. She somehow managed to reach that spot and the doctor, at once knew what she was suffering from. So he took her inside, gave her a shot of Dexona to relieve the spasms, and advised her to get an ultrasound done the very next morning. He was all praises for her as he couldn’t believe she made it here on her own, although in so much pain. The next morning, as told, she got her scan done and the reports revealed she had multiple stones in her left kidney. The good thing was she didn’t require any surgery and it was self-treatable, provided taken good care of. Now that she was at ease, she decided to take a day off from work and contemplate last night’s incident. She didn’t want her parents to worry too much and so kept it to herself. All this time, she had just heard that people may even turn into warriors if tough times demand so. Somehow, she couldn’t believe that she had it in her as well. This definitely was no easy feat. But if she compared this intensity of pain to the measure that cancer patients and injured soldiers suffered from, then it was almost negligible. She thought of her old parents and the love they bestowed upon her since childhood. She felt guilty for leaving them alone and having come so far. She burst out into tears and it seemed as if all her grief was being washed off. Her heart was so full of ambition all this while that there was barely any space for compassion in there. Now that her heart felt lighter, she was relieved. She set up a new agenda with altogether a different perspective. The next day she gave her resignation letter at the office and in 2 weeks’ time, she was packing her bags to return to her hometown. Back home, she was welcomed like a queen and she too felt overjoyed seeing that smile on her parents’ faces. She also took them on a mini-vacation to do house-boating in the beautiful Dal Lake. After getting back, she decided to start working on her agenda. Within a short span, she began volunteering 4 days every fortnight in a nearby hospital. In the meanwhile, she was also working on her startup idea of building a healthcare platform that assisted with home-based health care. Although she started off a bit late, still as said - ‘Better Late than Never. Tara was now leading a peaceful and contented life and there was no safer heaven to be in than with her loved ones!


They say that light always wins, overpowering the darkness, be it fiction or reality. Everyone glorifies the light, the yang, shunning the darkness and thinking of it as the 'wrong way of life. But without the dark, we wouldn't know of the light. This is my story. A story about darkness. A story where one surrenders to the orphic shadows which our demons thirst for. A story where yin triumphs. * * * In the faraway lands of Galaecia, the kingdom of hope, righteousness, beliefs, and love stood. For all that people knew, merry days was what the future held for the kingdom... Yet none spoke about the dark truth of the lands, the forbidden secret which was left unsaid since eons, and now forgotten. Its existence nothing but spun folk tales narrated by the few elders of the lands. All the happiness of the kingdom depended on one person. The happiness of others dependent on one soul who would be eternally cursed to feel nothing but pain and desolation. Born to the king and queen of Galaecia, one would assume my life was nothing but rainbows and sunshine. No, my life was dark dreams and monsters, thirsting for a release of emotion. One peculiar thing I never quite understood was that whenever I was out of the palace, it felt as if people didn't want me around... Some even refused to look at me and some threw me nasty looks. Conflicts and little brawls used to start erupting all around me. The soldiers of the kingdom had to escort me back to the palace every time, saying that it was 'dangerous for me to be out here. But as soon as I made my way out of the streets of the kingdom, I could hear light laughter and joyful conversations. I could sense the frolicsome environment, all of which made me bitter inside. Hatred coursing through my veins and anger in my bones. As soon as I turned sixteen, I was barely allowed out of the palace. Growing up, I was an obedient child, taught to never question my elders and respect tradition. That habit stuck and I never was able to get rid of it. Keeping all my emotions and questions to myself and remaining stuck inside the palace for hours and hours, I felt like Rapunzel. But at least she had her pet chameleon, a horse, and a happy ending. I didn't have either of those and I didn't expect one anytime soon. I found slight solace in the company of the sea, feeling the wind in my hair, inhaling the salty ocean breeze, and gazing at the vast body of water from the 'comfort' of my room's balcony. The sea was right in front and all I wanted was to reach out for it. It was so close yet so far...Never was there a picture as enchanting as the ever-evolving sea. Today, whilst I was gazing at the infinite blue sea and the crescendo of the waves as it rose and fell into somewhat of a beautifully choreographed ballet, I saw the guards of the kingdom carrying a man into the dungeons. Never was I ever curious about any of our prisoners, probably because we barely had any, but this time, something pulled at me to take a chance this one time. Sneaking away to the dungeons, I saw him, lying on the cold hard ground. "You shouldn't be here.", came his voice in a stone-cold rasp. Stepping aside from behind the stone pillar, I took a good look at him. "Says you. We've barely kept any prisoners in Galaecia. What did you do that you ended up here?" "And why should I tell you?" "Maybe I can help you break out." "Why would you do that?" I remained silent. After a minute, he sighed and continued "I said some things about the kingdom. About how it was cursed and all. And how they're living under a facade. And how I could help them." My head almost had whiplash at the word 'cursed'. "What do you mean 'cursed'?", I asked. "There is a legend revolving around this kingdom. Said to have been forgotten by most, but I have my trusted sources. They say that this kingdom is destined to greatness at the hands of one but its people won't be happy any longer." "And what? You were planning to invade with a one-man army?" "No, I was hoping for a different turn of events. I was hoping I could get them to trust me and then I'd figure out the rest." "Don't you think it's brainless of you to tell me all this when you barely know who I am? I could snitch on you, though it won't make much of a difference.", I said wistfully. He laughed lightly, a melodic rasp I'd say, "Oh I very well know who you are. Valerie, princess of Galaecia, rather, the cursed one. How does it feel, to know that everyone around you is content and cheery at the cost of your happiness? And poor little you suffer in agony, and rage...", This time, he met my eyes, and oh the flaming anger in them was as beautiful as it was terrifying. "What are you babbling about?" I asked, my voice slightly shaky but in the back of my mind, I knew what he was saying wasn't wrong. It did connect everything. Would my parents really do that? Sacrificing my happiness for their kingdom...Did they know this all along? "You know I'm right.", he got up and said, tapping his fingers on the metal bars of the cell. I looked away from him. All this happened but none of it came across as much of a surprise to me. "Well, what are you going to do now since your 'plan of invasion' was very stupid. If you think about solely gaining all the time, without thinking of the problems which would arise, something like that is bound to happen.", I said, squinting my eyebrows "That's all that life is about, no? You gain, you lose, the cycle repeats, and then you die. But, when power comes along the way, life takes a turn. It's in your hands to make it better or worse." "Greed sounds like your God." "No, greed bows to me." "Yet it failed you. " "Not yet it didn't." "And your God?" "I only favor those Gods which bring me a fortune." "I don't think Gods work that way." "Oh, but it does. I am here right now, aren't I?" "What about your fortune?" "I am looking right at it.", he said, a hungry gleam in his vivid emerald eyes. Upon my frazzled expression, he let out a chuckle and said, "The Kingdom, I meant. Aren't you tired of living like this? Being miserable while others around you are celebrating and are happy for some stupid reason at the cost of your happiness. Think about it, if you come with me, you won't have to suffer any longer. We'll be strong together. We'll be unstoppable. I don't want to rule your kingdom. No, you can have that. But what I want, is a share in the power. Think about yourself this once. You can finally experience what you've always wanted to. It's a win-win. Think about you, Valerie. You." By this point, I was in the front of his cell. Since I used to remain in my room for most of the time, I had mastered the art of picking locks. Taking out a pin from my hair, I inserted it in the keyhole. The cell door opened with a satisfying click . "I'd never thought someone seducing me to the dark side would be so tempting." I almost whispered. Stepping closer to me and tugging around a few tendrils of my hair, he whispered near my ear, "What are you waiting for then?" Giving him a wicked smile, I whipped out a dagger from his grey leather belt. The dagger had a gleaming sapphire attached to the pommel, the hilt-a vintage silver color. "You had this all along. Why didn't you use it?", I asked. "How else would I have come to meet you? If I killed those guards, I'd be dead on the spot.", he said. "You had this all planned?!", I asked, surprise evident in my voice. "To every last bit.", he said. "How'd you know that I would follow you?" "I didn't. But, I took a chance, just like you." Noticing me admire the carvings of the dagger, he said, "I won it in a duel, along with other merchandise. I almost lost my eye that day but you should have seen the other guy." Grabbing the collar of his quilted vest, I said dragging the tip of the dagger and making random patterns on his crisp white shirt, "Must be very precious to you then?" "No,", he let out a chuckle, "I've had better. And be careful with that dagger, ay. That ain't no toy." "Well, I best be careful then." The act was swift and sudden. The blade of the dagger sliced into his heart. A cold sheen of sweat covered him and he gasped, his eyes bulging in disbelief. From his open mouth came gurgling and sputtering sounds. "I should've ....known..", he coughed out blood. I tipped his chin upwards to meet his eyes, "Yeah. Do you know what your problem is, based on what I figured out in this five-minute conversation? Though you are quick-witted, you assume too fast. But you know what? I don't like to share at all. I didn't have anyone to share with when I was young, and I guess the habit stuck. " I patted his cheek. I polished the dagger clean with the cuff of my sleeve. Without sparing the corpse another look, I stepped over it and walked away. Anger and wickedness coursing my veins, my entity was to be feared. And it was about time I confronted some people, starting with my dear father. It seemed as if the sinister smile I had on affected the waves of the sea as well as it crashed against the shore, wild, turbulent, and... unforgiving.


Snake Bite Everything began seventeen long and painful years ago in the year 2536. A young boy named Tenshi Demonkira was born on March 5th at 10:46 am in the capital of Japan. He was born a regular child and was a happy one at that. Though that quickly changed after he aged three years when his life and everyone around him would change. One year before this child was born, scientists had developed a serum that could alter a human's genes to that similar to any animal. They were beginning to test said serum on kids that were three to five years of age, and all of the results were promising up to that point. Sadly, when Tenshi turned three, he was selected as a participant for this serum. He would be the first human to be injected with the newest serum, which would change his genes to that similar to a snake. Though, something went very wrong after injecting the child, and it affected him drastically. He grew scales on the left side of his face, and his eyes changed from a brown color to a pure and blaring yellow with slit pupils. His hair had changed from brown to an albino white. His tongue was now split, at the end like a snake. He had green and yellow scales littering his arms and all over his body. Within the first month, he had grown a tail that was covered in green and yellow scales. After the end of his first two months, he became cold-blooded and couldn't keep himself warm. None of this was in comparison to what the real issue was. This child now had venomous teeth and scales, and if he bit someone or someone touched his scales they would be paralyzed. Harrowingly, if any living thing smaller than a teenager touched him, they would be killed from the poison. The scientists feared the child and threw him out on the streets of Japan. For the next fourteen years, the young boy lived in streets and alleyways doing whatever he could to survive. He had caused a lot of trouble in that time, such as stealing and robbing places for food and clothes. He knew it was wrong, but he had to do what he needed to survive. Currently, the now-teenage boy sat in the back of an alley hiding in the shadows. He often sat in the shadows away from people, so he would not be found. He knew better than to walk out of the shadows of the alley unless it was night. If he ever did leave the alleyway during the daytime, or he would surely be caught and taken to prison. Time passed, and after hours of waiting it was finally dark outside. His stomach grumbled in hunger as he had not eaten that day, he sighed and stood up with a stumble from exhaustion and hunger. He walked towards a closed store with his snake-like tail swishing behind him lightly. He pushed the white hair out of his face showing the scales that covered the left side of his face. The scales on his face, arms, and legs were now glistening under the moonlight. Tenshi looked up at the closed store in front of him, and he sighed and hung his head. He swished his tail around, and the glass door shattered. The alarms rang throughout the building and the street as he walked inside the store. He quickly grabbed whatever food and drinks he could find before quickly running back to the alley. He heard the familiar sirens of police cars as he hid in the back of the alleyway once more. He opened up some of the food and immediately began eating because, truthfully, he only ate once or twice a week. After he finished the food, he curled himself into a ball to stay as warm as he could. Half an hour later, he was finally able to welcome sleep, and his breathing evened out. The next day he awoke in a clean and white room as he laid in a bed. He looked around for a moment and figured that he was in a hospital room. He was very confused because he had not slept in a bed in over fourteen years. A nurse walked into the room and saw that he was no longer asleep, "Good morning, sir. How are you feeling today?" the nurse asked with a warm and friendly smile. "I-I'm terrible," he said, sighing to himself, forgetting that he spoke in lies. "Not sorry, I totally do not speak in lies," he said with a sad smile. The nurse's eyes widened, and he nodded as he understood what Tenshi meant. The nurse then wrote down how Tenshi was feeling on his clipboard also adding the fact that he spoke in lies. The nurse walked over to Tenshi and shook an IV bag filled with parenteral nutrition fluid. Tenshi was shocked when he saw this, and he looked at the IV bag and traced the IV line to where it was, connected to him. He finally found the pick line in his neck, "Why do I not have a pick line?" he asked the nurse as he was anxious. The nurse looked at Tenshi with a raised eyebrow, "You mean why do you have a pick line, right? If so, then it is because you are very malnourished." the nurse said, continuing to have a bright and happy smile on his face. Tenshi was shocked but nodded even though he was upset about it. He had no say in what happened to him because he was under the age of eighteen. The nurse lightly bowed his head as he walked out of the hospital room. The nurse did so because it was thought dishonorable not to bow your head when leaving a room. Tenshi sighed to himself in anxiety and worry because he had no idea of who found him or how he got there. Tenshi was beginning to nod off from exhaustion, but before he fell asleep, he heard something. He heard a creaking sound coming from the door, and he heard footsteps. He shot up in the bed, and he looked around to see if anyone was in the room. He saw a police officer sitting in a chair by the door, "How can I not help you, sir?" Tenshi asked, hanging his head. "Not sorry... I do not speak in lies," Tenshi said, sighing to himself and banging his head on his hand. The officer made an 'Oh' face, and he understood what Tenshi meant. The police officer nodded, "Look, kid. We know that you stole food and drinks from a lot of different stores. Legally we can't send you to jail, and you, are considered too mentally unstable to go to a Juvenile Detention Center. The only thing we can do is send you back to your parents or put you in the foster system." The officer said, with a sigh, he wrote details about Tenshi in a notepad. Tenshi's mouth was ajar as he sat in shock at what he heard. He knew it was illogical, but he ripped out all of the tubes and IV lines out of him. He got up and noticed he was still in his original clothes, which he appreciated. The police officer tried to stop him as he ran out of the hospital, pushing and shoving people out of the way as he ran. When he got out of the large hospital he was stopped by a police cruiser. He soon noticed he was surrounded by police officers and was commanded to stop. He didn't listen and ran into the nearest alleyway where he saw something he thought he would never have to witness, hear, or see again. He chose the wrong path but even though it was wrong he had no plans of stopping.


The voices....the voices are growing in number,not really voices, but whispers. They tell me things, they say they are here to help,but they never seem to. They always want more, more blood. The floor in basement has a hole in it, more of a pit really. I must keep it filled with bodies, or they will come for me. The voices say it is so, I must serve the pit or suffer. The last few years have been very difficult. Ever since the hole appeared, soon after my mother died. The hole appeared, and soon after that, I started hearing whispers, instructing me to do small and seemingly meaningless task. They told me to stake out certain houses, certain people that I had never meant. It seemed odd but I was so distracted by grief I went along with this new obligation. It has lead to the death of many, only to save the majority of the earth. Keep the hole fed and be blessed they tell me. So I stalk the innocent, I take them from the world to fill the hole.