“That’s the thing about this city, no pets allowed under any circumstances,” explained Janice, the very peppy realtor. “Are you serious? I have never heard of a town that didn’t allow pets in,” replied Harris as he looked over at his wife. “I am unfortunately telling you the truth.” “Well, I wish you would have told us that before we bought the house,” mentioned Willa. “I am sorry, I didn’t think it was pertinent information. Most people who move into Garrison are aware of this stipulation.” Janice then handed the keys off to the new homeowners and went on her way back to her office. Leaving the couple slightly annoyed at the fact that they were just hearing about this moratorium on pets. “Well, what are we supposed to do with Richard,” asked Harris? “I don’t know, maybe we could give him to your sister, she already has a couple of iguanas,” suggested Willa. “If she will even take Richard, plus we will have to drive two provinces over to drop him off if she does decide to take him.” On the way back to their apartment in Sasha, British Columbia Harris got on the phone with his sister. “Hey Celeste, so we didn’t know that our new home in Hyacinth didn’t allow pets.” “They don’t allow pets? I’ve heard of that kind of stipulation in apartments but never at a house.” “True but it’s a city thing.” “What?” “I know we were shocked too but the house is so nice and we decided it is worth it.” “Well, what are you going to do about little Richard?” “Um, I was hoping you would take him.” “I guess I could take him off your hands, maybe he will be a good companion for Cornelius. He has been so lonely since Hamilton died.” “Thank you, sis! I was wondering if you could come out and get him, we could show you the new house.” “I suppose I am overdue for a little road trip. I can even bring my work with me, I’ll head out tomorrow. Just let me check and see if my neighbor will watch my pets.” “I really appreciate it, Celeste.” “Say no more, I can’t wait to see Richard.” He hung up the phone and told his wife, “She is going to do it.” “What a relief, and I have to say, asking Celeste if she could come out and get Harrison was a good idea.” “I thought of it last minute. I just thought with the move and everything that it would be easier on us if we didn’t have to drive out there.” “I’m just glad she is going to take Richard but I’m sure going to miss him.” “Me too, I always wanted a lizard as a pet when I was a kid, and having Richard has been great.” Celeste made the journey the day after she spoke on the phone with her brother. Bringing along with her a nice enclosure for Richard. She also planned to have him roaming around with the others from time to time in the house. Harris had sent her a picture of what Harrison was residing in and Celeste figured that was not good enough. She knew that Harris loves lizards but she was often regarded as the crazy lizard lady, similar to her neighbor Dana who is considered a crazy cat lady. After what seemed like forever, she pulled up to their small 70’s style apartment building that they were going to vacate soon. She lugged her enclosure and a small duffle bag up the thin stairs to the third floor, then rang the doorbell. Harris came to the door and answered it. “Celeste, hey, come in.” “Thanks, I can see you guys are all packed up for the most part.” Willa poured pink lemonade into some glasses and brought it over to the couch they planned to switch out for a more plush and comfortable one. Celeste took one and said in her high pitched voice, “Thank you, Willa. You are looking great, by the way, is that a new hairstyle?” Willa twisted her red-dyed curls and replied, “Yes, it is, I got so bored with the old look. So, is that for Harrison because he has an enclosure already?” “It is but I thought this would work better for him.” Willia just nodded her head and said, “Well, should we go on over to the new house?” “Sure, I want to see this new fancy house my big brother here has been talking about.” They decided to just take one car and made their way to their new house on Roberts Street. “Well, it sure is charming.” “You like it,” asked Harris? “I sure do but the porch could use a little pizzaz.” “I agree, that’s why I am trying to convince your brother here to let us have planters and little sculptures.” “Hey, I compromised on the windchimes you wanted, so don’t push it.” Celeste just rolled her eyes thinking about how he had always been annoyingly stubborn. They went inside and showed Celeste what the layout was like and what they were planning on doing with the extra space. “It looks great but no pets huh? I sure wouldn’t live here.” “Well, it’s too late sis, we already got the house. I think it is worth the sacrifice.” “If you say so.” They went back to the apartment and loaded Richard and his new enclosure into Celeste’s van and she was on her way. “Well, at least we know she will take care of him,” mentioned Willa. “Yes she will, I guess we will have to adapt to that no pets policy.” “Yep.” They finished doing the packing that night and the next day stocked the moving truck they rented. The plan was to move everything into the house and then replace certain things they want to as they go along with making it their own. A few days after they finished the big move, one of the neighbors came by bringing some delicious-looking cookies. “Thank you, this is so thoughtful. I’m Willa.” “Oh yes, anytime, I’m Ren. Some of our fellow neighbors are going to have a little get-together Friday night, would you like to join?” “That would be great, when and where?” “At my house across the street and it will start at like seven.” “Great, thank you for the invitation.” With that, Ren went back to her house and Willa brought in the plate of cookies that had saran wrap around the bright blue plate. She set it down on the new oakwood table and unwrapped it to have a cookie. She discovered that a piece of paper had been placed underneath the cookies. Thinking that it would just be a nice little note, Willa grabbed it and read what was on it. It said in dark blue sprawling cursive, I am sure that you were told about the no pets law here in town. If you want to actually be able to keep one, join us at the Trell’s house on Wednesday at 4:00 pm. Just call me at 236-852-8769 to discuss this further if you’re interested. P.S. don’t breathe a word about this. Willa inhaled deeply with surprise and then called out to Harris, “Honey, you should come to see this, one of the neighbors brought us cookies.” “I’ll be down in a minute.” Harris with his heavy footing came down the all-white stairs and came over to see what Willa was talking about. “Yum, these look good.” “Yeah but look at this note.” Harris read it and then looked at his wife with wide eyes saying, “This is kind of crazy but maybe we should give her a call.” “We already gave Richard to your sister.” “I know but we could get another lizard or ooh maybe even a cat. You’ve always wanted a cat.” “If we get caught though I don’t want to pay that ridiculous fine.” “We will be discrete just like this neighbor is, what is their name?” “Her name is Ren and she also invited us to go to her place on Friday for a little get-together.” “Look at us already making friends.” Willa rolled her big brown eyes at him and then took a bite out of the cookie she had in her hand. They decided that they would in fact call Ren about this and also find out more about the party that was going to go down on Friday. Willa made the phone call about an hour later and found out that there is this group in the neighborhood that gathers all of these pets so that everyone can still have one. They just don’t have them in individual houses to avoid being detected. Willa relayed what was talked about to Harris and they agreed that they should go on Wednesday. On Wednesday, they went over to the Trell’s to see what this whole thing was really all about. When they arrived, they used the small golden knocker to announce they were at the door. “Hello, you must be the new people in the neighborhood,” said a woman with warmth in her voice. “Yes we are, I am Willa and this is Harris.” “Nice to meet you both, come on in.” “Thank you. You have a nice home.” “I know right, my husband and I moved in here five years ago and we have just adored this house and the city in general.” “It does seem great so far,” replied Harris. “Oh, you will love it here as you get more acquainted with the area.” They followed the homeowner down the hall to their kitchen and saw that there was a small group gathered in front of the all-black table. “Hey guys, this is Willa and Harris.” Everyone said hello and Willa and Harris did the same in response. They helped themselves to a few appetizers and took the deep red colored wine that was offered to them. It tasted to Willa like an expensive brand and it was absolutely delightful. It took some time for the conversation to move onto what Willa was informed of by Ren. The woman who had opened the door, Sammy said, “How about you guys follow us down to the basement and we will explain more.” Downstairs there was a cacophony of animal sounds inside. “We have very well insulated walls so that you can’t hear them elsewhere.” Harris thought for a moment that this environment was not all that suitable for pets but Sammy reassured him by explaining, “We sneak them out every morning just before dawn to a farm outside of the city to let them walk around and get fresh air.” “You haven’t been caught? I would think it would be hard to transport all these animals without being detected,” postulated Willa. “We were worried about that initially but it has been successful so far.” “How long have you guys been doing this?” “We started it up about four years ago.” Sammy then gestured for them to come in closer to see the variety of pets and explain more about how they could have their pet housed here. She explained that everyone comes over when they want to in order to spend time with them. “You can even join us when we take every pet here out to the farm.” “Well, we had a lizard before we came here but we gave him away to my sister when we found out we can’t have pets here,” mentioned Harris. “Well, if you want to get another pet you certainly can.” Willa then turned to Harris and said, “We could get another lizard and maybe a cat or something.” “I would like to have another lizard but if you also want a cat we can do that.” “We have a friend that lives in the neighboring city that helps us get pets and even gives us a discount. I’ll give you both the number and you can call him up. I am not sure if they have lizards there but you could find out. As you can see we mainly have cats and dogs, some rodents too.” They followed Sammy back up to the main floor with the rest of the small group. Then they were on their way to go home and discuss this plan. “I say we call this guy tomorrow,” suggested Willa. “I would say let's not be rash and be cautious but I really want to get those pets we want and this may be our only chance to have some while we live here.” “Well then let’s do it.” The next day they were able to get a hold of Ralph; Sammy’s friend, and were instructed to come that afternoon to peruse the selection of pets. They drove out to see what they could find. The shop had quite a variety of pets to choose from, even lizards. Willa thought about how she would love to own all kinds of animals but that would be unrealistic. In the end, they had decided to get an orange tabby cat and an amazing-looking bearded dragon. They named them Orange Blossom and Seaweed respectively. Back in their own city, they went to drop off their new pets at Sammy’s place. Although both Willa and Harris really just wanted to bring them back to their own house. It was not an option though, so they went to her house and didn’t even get caught on the way there. They knocked on the door again and when Sammy opened the door she ushered them in hastily with their pets. “I see you were able to get a lizard. A bearded dragon no less, what a cool-looking animal. You have everything this creature needs right? Also, this cat is darling. Have you given them names?” “Yes we have everything for the lizard right here in the bag,” replied Harris. “We named the bearded dragon Seaweed and the cat Orange Blossom,” explained Willa. “I just love those names.” Sammy helped them take their new pets downstairs and they set up the enclosure for Seaweed. There were already cat kennels there and for the most part, they were just allowed to roam around. “Well, I think you are all set, let me know if you want to come with us to let the animals roam sometime.” “Thanks, we will,” said Harris. With that Harris and Willa had found a way to skirt the ridiculous mandate about there being no pets in the city. It wasn’t exactly ideal but it was better than not having animal companions. They enjoyed the party that was thrown on that Friday, allowing them to make new friends and share in the joy of having secret pets.


There are a lot of stories posted here daily, but barely any feedback. Stories can be voted down or not voted at all, but that is no help to a writer. The only way that a writer can improve their writing is through feedback. A story may suffer from many things: too much description or not enough description; too many dialogues or not enough dialogues; bad formatting or bad grammar; too long or too short; not enough depth to the characters or the story; lack of plot development; too much telling and not enough showing. The list goes on. No writer is, or should be frightened of negative feedback. And no one should feel that they might offend a writer if they give negative feedback. All feedback is helpful and should be welcomed. You do not need to be a literary critic to give your opinion on a story. The stories that are not voted at all or voted down without any feedback can leave a writer bewildered as to what they did wrong and they might draw a wrong conclusion about what was wrong with their story. So please leave a comment, particularly regarding those stories that you didn’t like.


“Why don’t you let me take you home dad? It’s too cold to wait for the bus,” Police officer Arrin Krieger asked Arik, who was wrapping up his IT work on the Captain’s computer. “Thanks, Arrin, I would love that,” he said, peeking out from under the desk. “Tony said it was supposed to snow like 25 inches today!” “Got to love a January blizzard. I'll get some hot chocolate for the road while you finish up here. Met you at my desk." "See you there," he said, getting back to replugging everything. When that was finished, he cleaned up his workstation, a breakfast nook-like area in the corner of the Captain's office. He packed up his laptop, mouse, and cassette player with headphones in his computer bag. The last things to do were to clean the coffee mug tea rings off the table and bundle up in his coat, scarf, and gloves. He waited a few minutes before ignoring Arrin's instructions and met him in the officer lounge. The screaming of the kettle hid the sound of the door but the screen attaching the hanging cabinets to the peninsula below blocked Arrin’s view from the first third of the room. Even if the screen was gone, Arrin had his head deep in a lower cupboard trying to find Arik’s reusable coffee cups. As he raised and turned his head, a cacophony of cups and lips bounced on the floor. “Dad!” His heavy breath switched to a scowl. “Dad!” “Let me help you.” He smiled, taking the kettle off the heat. “I’m an adult, dad, I can make two cups of hot chocolate on my own.” Arik extended to the top of the cabinets, pulling down a red and white Tupperware dish. “But it always tastes better when you do it with someone else," he said opening the dish. "You hide marshmallows up there." "Yeah, or Tony would eat them all." "Paranoid much." "I have video," he said, opening the drawer to the left of the oven. "I want to get home sometime tonight." "That's not happening tonight, boys," a voice behind them said. "Captain?" Arrin asked. Captain Mitchell Adams flopped down his hood. "The snow's past my knees in the parking lot and no amount of shoveling is going to fix that until the plows come in the morning." "Want a cup, Mitchell?" Arik asked, picking up an "I'm holding a cup of coffee, so yeah I'm busy" coffee mug from the counter. "Please. No marshmallows." "Killjoy," Arik whispered under his breath. Arrin slapped Arik's arm. "I have to fill out some forms for this. Did you fix my computer?" "Hope so," he said, handing Mitchell his mug. Mitchell started for the door before a spark ignited. “Arrin, I might need you to sign something. Come to my office when you’re done here.” “Right away, Captain,” He said as Mitchell left. “You probably call him Mitchell,” he said, pouring the kettle. “He’s a chill guy.” “He’s my boss.” “So?” he asked, stirring the cup. “Can you start adding marshmallows?” Arrin grabbing the dish and keep plopping down marshmallows as he said, “Normal people don’t call their bosses by their first name “Normal people want marshmallows with their hot chocolate not hot chocolate with their marshmallows.” He shook some drink from his hand. “Sorry, dad.” He put the dish away. “We already figured out I’m not normal.” He took the larger mound of marshmallows and tried to shove the lid on with the least amount of casualties. “You clean this up and I’ll put what’s left of my marshmallows away.” With the easier job, Arik was the first back to the Captain’s office with the time to de-winterize. He got lost in his computer screen as Arrin knocked on the door. “Come in, Arrin!” Mitchell yelled from the printer. He peeked his head in. “Do you need me?” “Just your John Hancock,” he said, placing a paper and a pen on the table near Arik's laptop. Arrin slipped forward as if entering the principal's office. Mitchell glided away as nothing happened. He went to his desk digging into his bottom right-hand drawer. "I need to see how many people are stuck here tonight. Here's a radio if the lines go out," he said, setting down a walkie talkie for Arik. "Do you want help?" Arrin asked. "No, I have a bigger job for you." Mitchell leaned in, and whispered, "make sure he doesn't hack anything he's not supposed to." "I try, Captain," he whispered back. "All I ask," he whispered. "Man the fort, Officer Krieger!" he announced, closing the door. Arrin finished his paperwork and sat in silence. His eyes bobbed like buoys. But right as they shut, a loud noise sent them up like a broken projector screen. "Holy Cow!" ranged through the room. "What! What? What are you watching?" "Tony's police car almost ran into Al's bus. Glad you didn't let me on that." "Why don't we do something-" he inched down the laptop lid - "other than watching traffic cams." "What do you suggest?" "What do you do when you're not working." "Watch traffic cams. Monitor police search history. Try to hack into Love Computer Security servers." He took a sip of his drink. "Don't look at me like that, Arrin Daniel! They want hackers to try. Troubleshoot if you will." "How about something we can do together." "Have you ever been upstairs?" "It's just storage and stuff." "No then. Come on, let's take a field trip," he exclaimed, putting his laptop away. "Is the Cap... Mitchell okay with this?" "Would I have keys-." "Grandma taught you how to pickpocket." "She also taught me lying to love one's is the worst thing you could do." "Did Cap give his okay?" "Ask him yourself," he said, handing him the radio. "Mom sure gave you her lawyer genes." "Yes. Yes, she did." he lifted the walkie to his face. "Hey, Captain-?" "Can you imagine the arson squad being a whole floor? It's barely four officers now." "They caught the most notorious arsonist and threw the book at him. They scared the firebugs to Philadelphia." "What makes you say that?" he laughed. "Their arson statistic. Uncle Caleb always complained about that when we went to go see Steven and Beverly." A loud pop took over the space. As it left, it took the light with it. Arrin took the flashlight from his duty belt. “The darn blizzard must have blown the breaker. Dad?” He shone his light around. “Dad?! Da~” the last was muffled by a leather-gloved hand. “Where’s your gun, boyo ?” the hushed voice asked, taking his hand from Arrin’s mouth but pressing his forearm into his windpipe. “Belt.” He could only muster a whisper. “Any others?” “No.” “Move!” he ordered, releasing his arm. “Not too fast now.” When Arrin didn’t move, the man shoved the confiscated gun into his ribs and cocked it. “Now!” Wobbling in the dark, they made it down three flights of stairs to the Captain’s office. Once in the door, the man gave Arrin one last push. Arrin landed hard hands and knees. Eyes squinting due to the bright light coming from the Captain’s desk. “Look Mikey, I brought you a wee friend to play with.” Arrin looked up to see his boss tied to a chair. “Tie him up!” he ordered his man in the shadows. “Come on, Patrick, he has nothing to do with this,” he said, pulling on his ropes as Arrin twisted and turned in the arms of the mega-monster. “ Feck that, Mikey. He’s one of your lads and he’s not arsewaying with mine.” “What would you want here?” “What would you have that I would want, Eejit !” He spat in his face. “It’s not what, it’s who!” Mitchell closed his eyes. “Arik.” “ Aye ,” he said, taking the knob of the still opened door. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to find him and this wean’s father.” He closed the door with an intimidating bang. The jiggle of the lock sent shockwaves through Arrin's once concrete expression. "How do you know this guy, Captain?" Arrin stuttered. "He was a friend." "Him?" "Yeah, before I joined the force as my father had and he joined the Irish mob as his had." "He couldn't be working for them now. They wouldn't risk breaking the truce." "No, they wouldn't. They didn't when they cut him loose 15 years ago." "That explains why he doesn't know Arik's-." "Quiet Arrin!" He drew the attention of their monster of a babysitter. "Don't show all of our cards yet. He evaded us for four years: he'll be fine." When the breaker was pulled, Arik tripped over his own two feet. When he tried to catch himself, he fell even more through a door he had locked but hadn’t gotten all the way shut. His head was spinning when Arrin called out the first two times. And he was seconds away from responding to the third when another voice rang out. He scrambled to his feet, shaky like a baby’s first walk. At the door, he saw Arrin’s light flailing around. For a brief second, he saw a pair of police issued boots maintained in military form - Arrin’s shoes - and a pair of dress shoes, tattered and soles dwindling into paper sheets. For another, a glint and shiny off the man’s waist from a holster and a gun of his own. When the man released Arrin, the light bounced once more, getting dangerously close to Arik’s hiding place. He closed his door as fast as he dared to remain hidden and unheard. One man plus two guns doesn’t equal a good outcome for two without. The Princeton graduate in him saw the logic in it: retreat and live to fight another day. The father in him would rather have the pain of a gunshot than the pain of watching a madman that broke into a police station and who now possesses two guns cart his son away. Arik kicked the nearest piece of furniture when Arrin’s light vanished. It was an old but hard pedestal desk. The shockwaves of his kick sent the top right drawer rolling on its glides with a metallic clang at the end. He ran his hand along the bottom until his fingers touched something smooth and cold. He picked it up and ran his fingers over it until they flipped open the lid and spun the flint wheel. Arik could see his hand and a bit of the room around him but what gave him a smirk was on the lighter. The stick on it was a campaign logo from the 1960s for Ken Kremer, his great grandfather. He didn’t win, in fact, he was arrested three days before the election for bribing poll workers. With the light of the past, he looked back out the hall. No lights insight. He needed a quick light inside to fix this problem. Backstairs First. He oozed out of the room. The light shimmied in his hand. He stayed along the left wall as he headed towards the back of the building. His fingers graced the lever knob when he heard voices on the other side. He closed the lighter. He couldn’t move until he saw the flashlights turned towards the door. Door hinges on the right. He lurched to the right of the door where the door would fly. As the door opened, one of the men said, “We’re looking for two men, one mid-twenties, other forties, both caucasian, first alive, the other no preference.” “I have a preference,” the other man said, brandishing his weapon. “Careful where you point that.” With them a safe distance away, Arik sneaked into the stairwell. He went down a few steps and looked over the side, making sure no lights were below or above him. Okay now, what? “First floor cleared, O'Connell.” After getting confirmation, Arrin gave Arik the walkie since he already had one on his belt. “Take your post at the West Stairwell, Bishop,” said O'Connell, who Arik could only presume could be the boss. Arik spun the lighter in his hand, with a smile growing. He galloped down the stairs only stopping at the bottom. Two shadows lined the frosted-glass window of the door. It was only a momentary pause, he wasn’t planning on going through the door anyway. He closed the lighter and reached up for the vent that he keeps loosened so he doesn’t have to interact with anyone. He had to step on the railing to get all the way up. As he laid on his belly barely able to lift his head fully, he thought I should have taken the stupid bus! Now, which way? He army-crawled a ways. He knew he was on the right track when he came to a vent looking into the men’s restroom. Only two more lefts. He pushed on until he came to the captain’s office. When he looked inside, he saw Mitchell and Arrin tied to chairs on the opposite side of Mitchell’s desk. Something moved in the shadows in the far corner, along the wall with his bench. Everything was quiet until a man barged in. “My lads have searched this building top to bottom. How can they hide?” “You should ask them, Patrick,” Mitchell smirked. He gave him a nob and a grin before pistol-whipping him. “I’ll ask again-,” he cocked it in his face - “where can they hide?!” Mitchell just stared into the windows of Patrick’s soul. “Fine.” He stepped to the right, facing Arrin. He tapped his badge and said, “Maybe you can help me, Officer-.” He stopped as he read Arrin’s last name. He ripped the badge from Arrin’s uniform. “There’s not two.” He threw the badge down. “There’s not two!” He ran out of the room. He pulled his walkie out. “Lads your night just got easier. You’re looking for one man. He’s just a computer lackey.” All of his teams responded with some form of “copy that’. His face was red and his teeth gritted as he tried to get his walkie back on his belt. “Patrick O’Connell. Come in Patrick O’Connell,” Arik said. “Who is this?” “I’ve heard you’ve been looking for me.” “Arik Krieger!” “Yeah and I’m not too happy with that lackey remark. Why don’t you come to the officer lounge and we can talk it over.” Patrick’s expression perked up. “I would love that.” This time the walkie went on on the first try. He marched down the hall, in a flash. He wretched the doorknob like a dog with his ball. No one was in sight. “You still hiding, boy?!” “No.” The lights in the room shuddered on. “I’m right here.” He stood far back in the room. “There’s another breaker in here?” “Yeah, but don’t be mad. They didn’t include it in the public plans for occasions like this. Come here, we can have that talk.” He disappeared behind the cooking area. “Don’t get me wrong,-” he started forward - “I meant no harm with that statement. I’m doing all of this because of your computer skills. I can promise you if you come with me now I won’t hurt anyone. What do you say?” He rounded the corner. Arik was standing there with a bucket. “I think not.” He hurled the contents at Patrick and started the flame on the lighter. “What do you think you’re doing? I can smell it’s not petrol.” “No. But it’s cleaning supplies. Just as flammable.” “Let’s talk about.” He raised his hand. “I ain’t going with you and you’re not hurting my family. What is there to talk about?” “You haven’t heard what I want you to do.” “Nothing good can come from this. If you wanted something good, you would have asked. Not this.” “True.” he lowered his hand partially. “What else is true is you won’t drop that.” He lowered them more heading towards his belt. “You couldn’t hurt the man who killed your wife. You won’t hurt me.” “You think so.” He pretended to drop, getting Patrick’s hand back up. “I won’t make the same mistake with my son.” He dropped it for real. Patrick lurched back, tripping, hiding his head. The substance Arik threw didn’t catch on fire like he said. “Too bad you can’t call a bluff,” he said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. He scrooched down next to the unconscious Patrick. He pulled up one of Patrick's arms, cuffed it, pulled the chain around an exposed pipe across from the counter, and cuffed the other wrist. With one down, Arik got up to deal with the next one on his list. He walked down to the Captain’s Office, stopping a bit short of the door. He reached in his other rear pocket, pulling out his phone. He clicked the screen and all the lights on this floor turned on. Cries of pain rang out from the office. Arik ran in. Arrin and Mitchel were fine as they were sitting closer to the lantern on Mitchell’s desk. On the other hand, the man in the corner was bent over like he got hit between the legs. Arik quickly took him the rest of the way down and handcuffed him to the old radiator. “You two, slacking off at a time like this,” he laughed. “Just untie us, dad.” “Fine.” He started on Arrin’s ropes. “Where’s Patrick?” Mitchell asked, his voice tough but eyes filled with a glint of care. “Cuffed in the lounge. That was the guy you were going to marry, wasn’t?" he asked, untying Mitchell, getting a wide-eyed expression from Arrin. "Only a fleeting whim." "You and Lindsey are a much better match anyway. Your Law and he's order."


Madeline’s day started like any other. She rolled out of bed and into the kitchen, practically sleepwalking through her morning routine. Work passed in the usual blur of meetings, emails, and calls - spending so much time satisfying the clients that the project was on track that there was hardly any time left to actually spend working on it. Before she knew it, lunchtime had arrived. Not wishing to spend any longer in the office than necessary, Madeline made the familiar journey to a nearby cafe with her book tucked under her arm. Coffee and sandwich acquired, she huddled up in a quiet corner to eat, drink and read. The stress of the day melted away as she immersed herself in the words on the page. Until a chorus of chimes, buzzes and beeps drew her back to the real world. Looking around, she noticed everyone staring down at their phones, confusion and fear plastered across their faces. She fumbled in her pocket to draw out her own, palms prickling in apprehension. The notification light was flashing. She tapped the side, bringing it to life. Blazoned across the screen was an emergency message from the government. `Several large masses approaching the planet at speed. Find shelter where possible. Await further announcements.` Silenced reigned in the cafe, the usual sounds of steaming and grinding swallowed by the tension in the room. A clattering cut through it all, setting Madeline’s heart pounding. Every head whipped around to find the source - a teaspoon fallen to the ground, rocking gently as it settled. Finally, somebody spoke. The man at the table next to her. “Th-this has to be a hoax, right?” “I don’t think so,” a woman by the window replied, gesturing outside. “Look.” Everyone did just that, shuffling over to peer at the people on the street. Some were frozen in terror, staring at their phones or up into the sky. Others were running, tripping and falling or colliding with each other in their blind panic. But the sight that sent Madeline’s heart plummeting into her stomach was the uniforms. Police. Firefighters. A strange mish-mash of officials hurrying to take control of the situation. If this was a hoax, it was certainly a convincing one. “What do we do?” another customer asked. Gradually, all eyes turned to the barista behind the counter, as if his authority in the cafe made the young man - barely out of childhood - the natural leader. “Err... I suppose this building has a basement,” he murmured. “We could shelter there?” Madeline watched on from the sideline as the customers glanced around at one another, seeking approval. All it took was for one of them to start nodding and soon they all were. Together, they filed down the stairs into the storage room underneath. The walls were lined with metal wire shelf stacks, full of cups and bags and bottles. The only sections empty of stock were the gaps there to make the stairs and doors accessible. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, illuminating the stains that littered the floor, more vibrant than the faded paint. It was a far cry from the cosy cafe above. They huddled there for what felt like hours, though the clock disagreed. Its tick filled the room, accompanied by a slow dripping in an unknown location. Now and then a low muttering between neighbours broke the monotony, but Madeline couldn’t make out any of the words through the blood rushing in her ears. A *thump* from above prompted a collective intake of breath. A series of small, quick steps clacked across the floor above them. Almost like something was scuttling through the cafe. Her eyes tracked across the ceiling, following the sound until it reached the entrance to the basement. Heart hammering against her ribs, it felt like the world was rushing around her as she tried to focus on the door at the top of the stairs. For a second, everything was silent, only to be broken by the creak and crash of splintering wood as a strange pincer-like claw burst through. The crowd erupted into chaos. Some clung to each other, frozen to the spot. Others backed up to the furthest edges of the room, Madeline amongst them. A brave few charged the stairs in an attempt to get past the horrific creature. It knocked them back with a swing of its claw, eliciting gasps and cries of pain. Casting about frantically, Madeline spotted a door to her left. She dived for it, just as others around her did the same. It opened into a small cupboard, stocked with cleaning supplies. Before she could decide what to do, Madeline found herself pushed into it by the crowd. A few people piled in behind her before someone pulled the door shut and started barricading it. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “I don’t want to be crushed by people piling in here,” he replied. “And I *definitely* don’t want that thing getting in here.” She opened her mouth to reply but thought better of it. As the thumps and screams and squelches started drifting through the door, Madeline did the only thing she could think of to shut it all out. She read. She dived into the world of Mary Shelley’s *Frankenstein*, trying to force her focus to remain on the words on the page instead of the world around her. Because of that, she hardly noticed the strange buzzing pressure encroaching on the edge of her senses. She only glanced up when the people around her started unbarricading the door to leave. “Hey,” she whispered, grabbing a woman’s arm. “Where are you going?” The woman didn’t respond, simply pulling free of Madeline’s grip to keep moving. No longer absorbed by the fictional world of her book, the strange sensation engulfing her mind grew. It felt as if it was smothering her thoughts, her feelings, her very self - wrestling control of her body from her. Before it could take hold fully, she plunged herself back into the story, immersing herself in the conversation between creature and creator that was transpiring. Gradually, the buzzing pressure receded, though she could still just about feel it on the edges of her senses. Glancing up, she realised the cupboard was now empty apart from her, the door gaping open. The only sight she registered outside of it was a flash of red before she yanked it shut and barricaded it once more. Huddling in the far corner, she buried herself in her book again, losing all sense of everything else. Eventually, she reached the last page. She stared at the final word for what seemed like an eternity, reluctant to return to the real world - whatever that meant anymore. Soon, she could put it off no longer. Closing the novel, she tucked it under her arm and pressed her ear up against the door. But no matter how much she strained, she could hear nothing. Everything outside seemed calm and quiet. With trembling hands, she lifted the various mops, buckets and bags that blocked the entrance. Then she reached towards the handle. She struggled to get a proper grip, sweaty palm sliding over the cold metal. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she steadied herself before tightening her fingers and pulling. The door swung open onto the basement. It was empty now, save for the two bodies that stared up at her with lifeless eyes. Scarlett splattered the shelves and floor, but the source of the blood seemed to be long gone. Madeline tried to tell herself that they had escaped - overpowered the strange creature, or run away. But she couldn’t forget that strange feeling - as if she was losing control of her body - and the way those people had walked out into the carnage willingly. And what had that *thing* been? Why was it here? And how? As the questions spiralled around her head she felt the world rushing in around her once more. The sensation made her dizzy and she had to steady herself against the wall to avoid sagging to the ground. She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts as she breathed deeply. When she felt stable enough, she pushed herself up and started taking slow, shaky steps across the room. Her feet squelched in the sticky, red liquid that littered the ground. She shuddered, trying to hold back the rising bile. When she reached the bottom o the stairs, she peered up into the world above. Through the doorway, all she could see was the cafe above. Tables and chairs lay scattered and broken, but otherwise, the place was empty. She began her careful ascent, wincing at every creak of the steps. As she neared the top, a buzz in her pocket made her flinch. She fumbled for her phone, pulling it out to look down at the screen. Notification after notification flashed across it: official government messages, news articles, and messages from friends and family. Standing on the stairs of the cafe’s basement, Madeline stared down at her mobile. She flicked through the notifications: alerts about unknown objects, alien ships, strange creatures. None of it felt real. Then came the messages from her parents. Text after text pleading with her to let them know she was okay, abruptly stopping around two hours ago. There were similar messages from other friends and family, some continuing longer, but none in the last half hour. Struggling to keep hold of the phone in her trembling hands, she opened her contacts and started trying to ring everyone she could think of. First her mum - no answer. Then her dad - no answer. Ella - no answer. Michael, Becky, James - all no answer. As she went through to voicemail after voicemail she felt tears prick at her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her sleeve, trying to keep her vision clear as she called number after number. Soon, she gave up the battle, letting the tears stream down her face as she heaved in shaky lungfuls of air tinged with copper. A buzzing in her hands sent a jolt of hope to her heart. She pressed the button to answer the call and held it up to her ear. “Hello?” “Mads?” Ella’s voice cried from the other end of the line. “You’re okay?” “Yes! Well...not really...” “Okay, but you’re alive? And not hurt?” “Yeah. Just about. Are y-you?” “Just about,” Ella replied. Despite everything, Madeline could swear she could hear a smile in her friend’s voice. “Where are you?” Madeline asked. “I’m at the university library. I was working when it all... well, you know. What about you?” “At a cafe in town. Near my office. We got a text - me and the other customers - and we hid. Then there was this thing. And they all just... I don’t even know what happened. But everyone else is gone.” “You mean you actually saw one?” Ella gasped. “And you survived? God Mads, that must have been-” “Yeah.” “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. You should probably try and get out of the city. Apparently, they targeted the most densely populated areas first. Christ, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I can’t believe any of this is even happening.” “I know the feeling,” Madeline replied with a sigh. “So where should I go? Or where should we go? I’d feel better being with you than by myself. Or with some strangers.” “I don’t know. The library isn’t exactly central, but it isn’t quiet here either. Perhaps my house would be best? It isn’t too far to get to but is a bit more out of the way. And maybe some of my family will be there too... I haven’t been able to contact them so far.” “Me neither - with mine I mean.” “So what do you say? Meet at my house and go from there?” “Sounds good. Though to be honest, I’m glad to just have someone tell me what to do. Thank you, Ella. Really. If you hadn’t called I don’t know what I’d-” “Thank me in person. Now get moving. I won’t be able to relax until I see you,” Ella said. “And *please* be careful.” Madeline hung up the phone and tucked it away in her pocket before climbing up the last few steps back into the cafe. From here, she could peer through the shattered windows into the world outside. On the street, other shop fronts were similarly damaged. Broken glass littered the pavement, glinting in the light from flames that danced amongst the carnage. Her heart leapt at the sight of people running this way and that. She open her mouth to call out to them, but the cry caught in her throat as she looked closer. The people weren’t running from the strange creature she had seen before. They were running from each other. Some had bats and bags, breaking their way into buildings and carrying away what they could. Some grabbed at each other, taking out their fear and frustrations on whoever was unlucky enough to be close by. Some simply ran, trying to escape the chaos. Madeline shrunk away from the window, reluctant to go out into a world such as this. But what choice did she have? The longer she stayed here the more chance she’d be found - by the looting crowds or the strange creature. And Ella was waiting for her. Clutching her book tightly under her arm, she stepped outside, glass crunching underfoot. She tried to move with confidence and certainty while sticking to the edge of the street in an attempt to draw as little attention as possible. Her eyes flicked back and forth, movement in her peripheries sending jolts of panic through her body. A hand darted out of an opening, grabbing at her arm. She yanked it back with a yelp and ran, feet pounding the pavement the sole focus of her mind. When she finally slowed back down, she struggled to get her bearings. Everything looked so different - so desolate. Her eyes fell on a sign, frazzled brain trying to make sense of the letters. Eventually, they coalesced into a word - a street name she recognised - and she set off at a brisk pace. Until a scuttling sound sent a sweep of cold terror through her. She dived for the nearest doorway, only to be pushed back by a group already huddled there. Her skin prickled and her lungs burned as she sprinted for the next entrance. But once there, she was met with the same sight. The scuttling was getting closer now, along with the *rap rap* of human feet on concrete. Madeline turned to see a man reaching toward her. Scarlett flecked his clothes and a fire raged in his face. In a blind panic, Madeline grabbed at the book tucked under her arm and brought it round to meet the stranger’s head as hard as she could. The following *crack* seemed deafening. The man sagged to the floor. Her stomach churned, like something was writhing inside of her, but she tried to push down the feeling. As she turned away, she caught a glimpse of a blackish-purple creature, slightly larger than a person, rounding the corner on more legs than looked right. She fled, praying the scuttling sound wouldn’t follow. That the *thing* would find something else - *someone* else - to distract it. As she got further out of the city centre, things seemed to calm down slightly. There were more people huddled together instead of fighting and fleeing. Less damage. Less destruction. Eventually, she was nearing her destination. She slowed her pace along the residential street, taking in the sights around her. Families were hurrying out their doors, loading their cars with everything they could carry. Others hid inside, peeking out from behind the curtains with fear in their eyes. Ella’s house was devoid of activity - door shut but curtains open, revealing no one inside. At least not near the windows. Madeline hammered on the door but no answer came. Pulling out her phone, she tried calling Ella over and over, but to no avail. She looked around, wondering what to do. Waiting outside felt exposed - dangerous. Going back into town was out of the question. She thought back to late-night visits, stumbling back to Ella’s place after drinks in the city. Hadn’t there been a key hidden somewhere? Bending down, she fumbled under everything she could think of but found nothing. Then her eyes settled on the key safe mounted on the wall. She fumbled at the small dials on the side, setting them to every combination she could think of, praying the family hadn’t just chosen a random number. As they turned to `0000` a click sounded. She silently thanked their poor security as she retrieved the key inside and let herself into the house. “Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone home? It’s Madeline - Ella’s friend.” No reply came. Closing the door behind her, she made her way toward the living room, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she may not be alone. It was only after a thorough search of the house that she finally felt secure enough to settle on the sofa. While she waited, she tried flicking through the channels on the TV, but all showed the same message in plain text: `Emergency Broadcasting: Shelter in Place and Await Further Broadcasts.` With nothing else to do, Madeline selected a book from the coffee table and started reading, determined not to let herself think too closely about anything. She woke up the next day, slumped on the sofa with a crick in her neck. Cold sweat pricked at her skin as the events of the day before came rushing back. Her head whipped around frantically, searching for signs of danger. Until she realised she was still alone. She grabbed her phone off the sofa next to her. There were no new messages - no signal at all. No way to contact Ella. \ “What happened next?” Liam asked with wide eyes. “Did you find Ella? Or anyone else?” Madeline stared down at the table, tracing the patterns in the wood with her finger. “No. I didn’t.” “Oh... I’m sorry.” Forcing a smile onto her face, she looked up at him. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago now. I’ve had time to process it all.” “So how did you end up here?” “I waited at the house for a while, hiding inside while everything went to shit. Or trying to hide. I learnt to defend myself and what I had pretty quickly.” Madeline paused, trying not to dwell on the things she’d done - things she’d had to do - to survive. “When things died down a little and I was starting to run out of food I packed up everything useful and went looking for people. This was the last place I knew Ella had been but... when I got here it was deserted.” “So you stayed?” “Eventually, yeah.” “What does that mean?” “It means, that’s enough dwelling on the past for one day. Come on, you must be tired. Let’s both get some rest.


"So what's the catch?" "No catch. Just you, me, and KC going to a bank." "Sawyer." "In ski masks." "Sawyer!" "Okay. Okay, man! God, you're so pushy. Ya, ya we're gonna rob it." "Sawyer!" "Come on, dude. I need the money, bad. You know who this business goes, sometimes you're down and sometimes you're-" "High?" Jack finished, grabbing the spliff from Sawyer and stomping it under his foot. "Dude!" "That's what happened at your last job isn't it? You got high and screwed up?" "Jack-" "So you need me to come in and take charge for you so you don't screw this one up?" "Well, when you say in charge, what exactly are you imagining?" "You want me to be you're fucking sponsor? What? I just follow you around and take lighters from you?" "You're my oldest friend." "No, Sawyer! I'm the only one that could put up with your shit!" "Chill out, dude." "God, I should have seen this coming! I got out of this stuff, man! I started over. I promised Angie I would leave this behind." "And you wouldn't be breaking any promises." "What are you talking about?" "Getaway car." "No." "You want a piece of all the action? Fine, fine. But your cut ain't getting any bigger-" "I'm out." "Jack, please! I-I'm in serious trouble. It’s The Gaters." "You went to loan sharks before me?" "You just said you put it all behind you! You made a promise to your girl!" "No. No. I'm out. Don't you get it? You go to me first! You ALWAYS go to me first. Fucking shit, man! I-I promised-" "Angie." "I promised you first." "You're in?" "One ride. Getaway car." “You got the J-Man back in, dope.” “Just shut the door, KC.” “Ouch, J-Man.” “And throw that out.” “It’s just a little beer, it ain’t gonna hurt anything. You know I can’t do these things sober.” “Try.” “Cool it, guys. We need to plan this one out.” “What? Not cool, Soy.” “Jack’s involved this time, KC. We got to be professional.” “I always am.” “Let’s go over it one more time,” Jack started, tracing the map with his finger. “4:55 pm: KC and Sawyer go in and tip the contact. At 5:10 KC makes a distraction while Sawyer slips in the back using the door that the contact opens. 5:20: KC will get a message from Sawyer when he has the money. KC will go through the front, and Sawyer will find me in the back. I drop Sawyer at his apartment, and I never see you to again.” “Harsh. dude,” KC said. “Get that thing out of your mouth.” “Seriously, Soy?” “Listen to him. We go sober for this one. Jack’s the law.” “Damn right I am.” “All right everyone, get out.” “That’s cold, J-Man.” “Just relax, KC.” “No, Soy. What’s got this guy acting like frosty the fucking snowman? That guy was warmer than you and he was made out of fucking snow.” “Sorry, K.C. I just want to get this over with.” “Huh. Bye,bye J-Man! Try not to get us arrested!” “He’s just a kid, Jack,” Sawyer commented once KC had gotten out of the car. “A kid shouldn’t be in this business. He won’t be a kid for much long- if he doesn’t get himself killed first.” “Hey man! He chose this. Kid came to me a year ago in deep, deep shit, and I pulled him out. He’s loyal and has a good head. It ain’t my fault if he realizes the world isn’t perfect.” “Is that what your first boss said to you?” “I’ll see you on the flip side, Jack.” “See you on the flip side.” 5:25 “Where are you, Sawyer? Get in this damn car right now.” 5:30 “Hell.” 5:32 “Get your shitting hands off me!” “Sawyer Maddison, you have the right to remain silent.” “This is just a whole misunderstanding fellas.” “Uh huh. You have the right to an attorney.” “Let’s just talk this out.” “Anything you say can and will be held against you.” “Jack! Jack! They’ve got him!” “He knew what he was getting into, kid. Get in the car.” “I can’t stay in here!” “Yes you can, Kid.” “He’s your best friend. How can you just leave him?” “He told you that?” “Well, ya. I mean, isn’t he?” “It’s complicated.” “Why? Because you got lucky and landed some office job? Because your parents earned some cash and got you into college? Me and him ain’t got that. We don’t got some fancy degree. This ain’t some rebellious phase for us. It’s do or die, man. Kill or be killed.” “And if I let you go back out there you’re going to get yourself killed. Sawyer wouldn’t want that.” “How would you know what he wants? You left him, man! You got up and left him in a ditch! I’m all he’s got, and he’s all I got. I can’t leave him.” “You have to.” “Unlock the car, Jack!” “KC-” “Unlock the fucking car!” “What’s your plan? You’re going to jump two cops? That’s not the same as robbing a bank.” “I don’t care.” “You should.” “I don’t!” “I’ll get you into college, Kid. You can crash at my place.” “Like I care about college!” “Whatever you care about, I’ll get it to you. But if you go out there, you’re going to get killed, and you’ll never be able to have any of it.” “I only care about Sawyer! Now unlock the car!” “I’ll pay for his bail and make sure he gets a fair trial.” “You know that won’t happen!” “I’ll get him a lawyer and-” “You’ll run away again, man! You’ll leave him just like you left before and those white collar judges won’t give a shit about him!” “He made his choices, K.C.” “No he didn’t! He’s not the one in deep with the sharks. It’s me! He was just protecting me! Now open the car!” “Well, I’ll be damned.” "So?" "Well, I'll be damned."


Zihuatenejo was one of those places that seemed to widen as you wandered its streets. There was a very large and very busy central part of town with traffic from all parts junctioning. There you would find movie theatres, street vendors, a lot of sweet-smelling portable taco grill stands, shops, a brown leafed plaza park, dust noise and even a few beggars. Thankfully, the day was finally ending, though its warmth kept time moving slowly. Shops had opened after siesta and musics ranged from ballads to charro to rap to clashing cymbals of Mexican rock. The dust raised by traffic kept their notes lingering before dropping. The Guerrero bar looked just as it did when I passed it earlier in the day. The normal sized green door was shut. There was no sign showing hours on the raised grey stucco wall. There was dust stuck to the stucco dabs that seemed very old and embedded. I didn’t know what to do so I went to the door and heard music as I stood there with my hand on the shiny silver-plated door handle. I turned it and heard the soft click of unlocking. I pulled, recognising Green Dolphin Street and Cal Tjader’s vibes, it open to face multi-coloured fly beads draping an interior of darkness and almost cold air. I went in and through the beads, liking their tiny wooden clunking and cool caresses over my upper body. The music was getting my head nodding. ‘You come on a boat, a yate?’ the bartender asked. ‘Yeah.’ I answered a little surprised. ‘The big schooner at the end of the beach. We’re taking it to the San Sebastians in the Caribbean.’ ‘Through the Panama Canal?’ ‘Yeah. Definitely. No Cape Horn for me...’ I nodded slightly, unsure of why I had said that to a stranger. He smiled. ’I always wanted to do that... go through that Canal. Hey, you know Pepe Maya,’ ‘Yeah.’ I answered, referring to the little open bar on the beach and the owner who sat with me when I landed the dinghy. ‘I like Pepe. Interesting guy.’ ‘Hey, he told me this morning about chu. We lookin’ out at that goleta, schooner.’ ‘Really. I’m famous.’ I glanced around the bar. ‘Maybe famoso. No, I eat breakfast with my compadre almost every day. He is partner in Guerrero here.’ ‘Really?’ My lips widened and I shook my head at another surprise from my simple-seeming friend. ‘Yeah. We been open about four years now. The outside was his idea. I like it, and the inside was the other partners. They two of them. No, they, there are two of them. He want, wanted to call this Guerrero Negro after our second presidente but they no not, don’t want that.’ He seemed to take a gulp of air, then looked back at me, ’Lo siento, this English giving me a headache.’ ‘Have a rum and tonic.’ I offered the bartender. ‘Good idea.’ He started to turn when the door opened, the beads parted and several people entered talking rapidly in Spanish. The workday was starting at the Guerrero. The door started opening a lot for the next couple of hours and the evening came closer with each opening until it was night outside and four rum and tonics inside. Tony, the bartender, kept bringing me the things every time my glass, that seemed to grow taller with each serving, reduced itself to one-third. He missed once and I hit ice and lemon wedge, but that was as far as I reached before another appeared. I was talking to a professor from the college about the Aztecs of all things when I noticed the elliptical eyes of a very beautiful woman lazily staring at me. I smiled and she looked away. She was sitting at the other side of the U-shaped bar and was alone. With the small crowd, music, dancing and conversations I thought her being alone was very strange. I studied her and felt she was genuine, but maybe a prostitute. I asked the professor and he said she was no prostitute, but a wealthy mulatta ‘...from your country.’ He winked and confided, ‘She is waiting for her man.’ Was the way he carefully chose his words. And, he chuckled. ‘Before I would have thought that you could tell me what she was doing...’ he chuckled again. It was getting late my drink told me. ‘Tony?’ I called. ‘Hey, Rod, what’s up?’ he eyed my glass. ‘No. Can you give the mulatta Americana whatever she is drinkin’?’ ‘Libby?’ He eyed me curiously, then shook his head, looked over at her and back to me. ‘It is curious but I know you now. She is taken, man. There will be a couple of students in about a half-hour, man. They are hot, too. Libby ain’t gonna even talk to you, man.’ ‘That’s cool but can you?’ ‘I bet chu the drink she turn it down.’ ‘Got a bet, my man.’ Now, I was saying man, I thought, wondering if I had drank too much and dismissing it as how can I drink too much? ‘Cool.’ he nodded with a smug smile. Tony mixed her drink and took it across. She eyed it, him and as he spoke, she eyed me. She nodded her head and demurely waved me over. Tony’s eyes were big as he came back, passing me with, ‘That never happen before, Rod.’ I slid off the stool, feeling a bit unbalanced after sitting for three hours drinking. But, I felt I could still score. ‘Thanks’ she said, as I tried with awkwardness to mount the stool that kept moving. Finally climbing aboard and seated, I responded, ‘Say. Tony told me you were American, so I decided that since you were African-American, and you were in a foreign land and I am an African-American and I am in a foreign land, and you were too beautiful to be alone and...’ I lost the train of thought, ‘uh, I would offer that small token of my comradeship and adoration.’ It sounded like shit as the last part came out. ‘Shit.’ She began laughing. ‘Was that a sentence? I usually get hit on more smoothly but that, well that, was schmaltzily patriotic enough to warrant at least an introduction. Libby.’ Libby’s hand came from the tall glass of under-lit chunks of ice in liquid and stretched over to me. Her fingers were long with no rings, short manicured nails painted red. The skin was youthful and tanned. I hadn’t thought of her age, but as I took the hand in a shake I studied her face and saw hidden forties, low or high ones and I saw that those years were well hidden. She took care of herself. ‘I am fifty-one as of three days ago.’ Libby answered my study. ‘I guessed wrong. I thought you were too young for me. I’m Rod.’ ‘Now, that was better.’ ‘Happy birthday, Lioness.’ My eyebrows were up, I think, like I was sophisticated or something. ‘I can’t say you’re smarter than you look.’ ‘Oh-oh. Does that mean I look dumb?’ We both chuckled at that. Aside from the obvious beauty she exuded, I felt a warmness coming through her hand that stayed even as she drew it back to her glass. Libby’s eyes studied mine. ‘I don’t usually let this happen’, she allowed. ‘Usually, I have a few drinks, my man shows up and I have a couple more while he socialises, and we leave.’ ‘Your man?’ I looked around. ‘Is he here?’ ‘Naw.’ She looked at the watch on her left wrist. The dangling gold chain links holding it looked expensive. Her tan was only slightly covering the place on her third finger where a wedding ring had once been. ‘He will be here in fifteen minutes, mas o menos.’ She looked back at me. ‘Mas o menos’ she repeated to somebody or herself. ‘Rod, is it?’ ‘Yeah, Rod.’ ‘Very phallic. Look, do you see that woman over there?’ Her head turned and sly eyes directed me to another beautiful woman at the end of the side of the U that I had sat. I was surprised that I hadn’t seen her, but maybe she was one of the students Tony had mentioned or a teacher. She was blond and deeply tanned. I could see the tan because of the opaque under-lighting of the bar. It made her almost black contrasting the white look of the long thick braid laying between a shoulder and her chest with a simple white shoulder-less blouse. There was a patient smile playing at her lips and she was alone. I started to wonder if this bar was gay. I looked back at Libby, wondering if she was a man. ‘You... I mean, well is this a gay bar?’ She looked at me. ‘You’re not gay, are you?’ ‘Naw, I’m not. I danced with a transvestite earlier without knowing it and there are two beautiful women sitting without men on their shoulders...’ I looked around and saw that there were other good-looking women with men talking and some dancing. ‘Sorry, just got a little freaked. I’m from San Francisco, so you’d think it wouldn’t matter... Anyway, naw, I’m not gay, and all my stuff is intact.’ She was smiling, ‘Too much information. How many drinks have you had?’ Then Libby looked back at the blonde. ‘She is a rich one, that one. And spoiled. A man has to be careful, she would eat you up and spit you out.’ ‘Whoa there, Libby. Who is she and why do you want me to get into her when I am looking at you?’ ‘Because you are looking at me, exactly. I just wanted to help you out. You look like you are on a quest and I thought maybe you could quest her. She is there for the pickin’.’ Quest automatically went to the boat, but another thought pulled into my brain that I must look horny to Miss Un-ringed Libby. ‘Libby, I am attracted to beauty, but I am not ruled by the bulge you’re creating in my trousers. If that is what you mean by quest?’ ‘It is.’ She looked at my crotch, ‘You have a bulge?’ ‘I can.’ She started laughing, surprising herself. When she stopped laughing, with tears in her eyes, she lifted her glass in a toast to me and flirtatiously sipped with her eyes digging into mine. ‘Okay’ lingered, coming from her wet lips. I tilted my head to get an understanding. ‘Okay?’ ‘No, I mean she is looking for a man. I have one.’ I looked at the blond again. ‘There are plenty of men here.’ My mind went back to the gay bar concept. ‘No. She is looking for somebody just like you.’ ‘How do you know that? Woman’s intuition? Do you know her?’ ‘Yes. I might say she is a friend. Her name is Sammy and she is a woman before you question the name.’ ‘Samantha?’ ‘Yes. Are you interested?’ ‘I don’t get it.’ ‘Let’s start with I am taken. Securely taken...’ ‘Okay, got that. Now, what is the next thing? Why?’ ‘Why? Why are you asking?’ She inclined her head toward the bar, ‘There is a beautiful woman and I think she would appreciate you, from what I have seen, and you would probably enjoy her... You have self-doubts, or are you gay? Or, is it a racial thing?’ ‘Hunh?’ ‘Racial thing..., you know, you don’t like white women racial thing?’ ‘Well, actually, I don’t tend toward them but I’m not prejudiced, just they tend to be a little too nice or too naughty, if you know what I mean.’ ‘Actually, no, I don’t know what you mean but maybe I am pushing her on you too hard. Let’s forget it, and thanks for the drink.’ I noticed she had turned slightly toward the bar and her eyes followed, leaving me sitting next to her by myself. I looked over at the blonde and sighed. My mind moved my body with thoughts of rumours that I had been offered beauty but I was a racist, or gay, or just fucked up mentally. I thought of this Sam finding out that I was sitting here trying to get into Libby’s pants and couldn’t, then defeated myself before approaching her. She would see me as a loser. Another rum and tonic appeared sitting next to my unfinished one. I looked at Tony and he looked at Libby. Libby looked at me. ’Now, we’re even in the drinks department.’ ‘I’ll go meet your friend.’ Libby turned back to me, smiling. ‘You’ll make her happy... what’s your name again?’ ‘Rod.’ ‘How could I forget Rod?’ I stood up, feeling off enough to hold onto the stool. To overcome the feeling of a little too much alcohol I reached over and took my unfinished drink and drank it down. I smiled to Libby in what I thought a sophisticated way, though I doubted that it was at the same time and replaced the glass of lonely ice. I left the other drink and walked around the bar and down to the blonde, whose name I had forgotten already. She was facing two or three couples dancing almost next to her. I tried to remember her name but couldn’t. She started to dance suddenly moving from the bar. Alone, she moved round and round making smiles of conversations. Her movement was peaceful, graceful, forceful with traces of African sensuality merged into the ritmo of a new world. Then she was back standing at her chair. With a smile she turned and faced me. There was a concern in her eyes and a curiosity in the tilt of her head, and there was a knowing friendliness that comforted me. ‘Libby sent you over?’ ‘Yeah. Yes, she told me you wanted my company though I don’t know why.’ ‘And you did as she said?’ Her face, beyond the smile was naturally sulky in an extremely sensual way. The face was almost symmetrically perfect. The eyes were a light colour in the beating darkness of the room, sparkling under the light of the bar and a small sequinned ball hanging from the ceiling that I hadn’t noticed before. Her lips tempted. There was a smile beneath her smile, an acknowledgement of her strength of beauty. And softly, she said ’You can go now.’ ‘What?’ ‘You have done as she said, so go.’ She was still smiling but both smiles and the tone was almost pleasant and I was almost surprised. ‘This a game you two play?’ ‘No. Actually, no. Just go.’ ‘Okay. Sorry to stand near you. But, seeing how beautiful, at least superficially, a woman can be was worth even this part of whatever this was.’ Her head tilted to the left. ‘Wait’ she softly commanded. I stopped my about to be leaving movement and smiled. ‘I am waiting for my boyfriend.’ ‘That makes sense. Everybody is waiting for their boyfriend today.’ ‘He will be here any minute.’ Her eyes ran up and down my face. ‘Maybe you know him?’ I just looked back at her. She plastered on a thinking smile. ‘My boyfriend used to be her boyfriend, and she thinks when he shows up and sees me talking to you... he is mixed race also... that he will turn back to her.’ ‘Come on. That’s ridiculous.’ ‘No. He is extremely jealous. He is an artist, so a bit crazy.’ She smiled, ‘He is crazy, actually.’ ‘An artist?’ ‘Yes. I am too. At least I am studying to become one.’ ‘What’s his name?’ I didn’t really want to hear what she would answer. ‘Esteban.’ ‘Just Esteban? Are there many artists around Zihuatenejo named Esteban?’ I must have smiled sarcastically. ‘Then you do know him, don’t you?’ ‘Hunh? Oh, well, just through reputation. I’m a journalist.’ ‘Yes. Yes, he is one of the greatest artists in Mexico. I want to help him get an exhibition of his work in Boston... Where are you from? A journalist? Where are you from?’ She was contentedly smiling now. ‘San Francisco.’ ‘San Francisco? Wow. Why are you here?’ ‘Uh, I’m assisting the return of a historical schooner to the San Sebastian Islands.’ ‘That’s a tax haven, isn’t it?’ ‘Yeah, they have that too, but you want me to leave before he gets here, don’t you? I think I had enough to drink for tonight anyway.’ ‘No. No, please stay. I think Esteban will really like you. Look at the way I am talking to you already. And Esteban has a lot more to say than I do. I know he’d really like you. Not too many mixed-race people around here. I mean there are Mexicans who are mixed Indian and Spanish but not many Blacks and Whites here.. ‘I’m not really Black and White.’ ‘You know what I mean.’ ‘Not really. Anyway, I don’t really want to be a part of this love game thing.’ ‘No. It’s okay. When he finds out you’re a reporter he’ll probably want to show you his work. And, anyway, I’ll probably have to share him with her again tonight, so that part is no big deal.’ I shook my head, said good night, turned without waiting for a response. I went over to Tony to pay my tab. I don’t remember going out the door but I was walking along the sidewalk, breathing in the warm night air with the moon splattering light on the bay. A man came walking toward me and I looked up to see myself. His mouth was open as mine probably was looking at my physical body only with dreadlocks. He smiled at me and I know I was smiling at him. ‘Esteban?’ ‘Yeah.’


There came a time when silence fell. But before that, there was noise. Explosions and screams and cries for help that were never answered. Grating metal screeches as corporate buildings fell, collapsing under the weight of their own lies. Children of children killing children. Yet, remarkably the sun still came up the next morning and shone down over the cold metallic remains. No cries. No screams. No breaking glass. Just silence and sun and an iron-like tang at the back of the throat. You would be forgiven for thinking that this happened in a different place, at a different time. It didn't. And that's when I awoke. "Hello?" I heard you call. "Hello!" "Where are you?" The voice was faint, thready. "I'm here!" I began to search. "No." A belligerent statement of fact. "No, I'm here. I'd see you if you were too. Don't you know where you are?" But we found each other, eventually. Together, we took off our clothes, and walked 'round our little town. We tore the paper from the walls, the carpet from the floor. We burnt those framed photographs and ripped out the wires. We returned all that oil to far underground, where it belonged. We took it all down, every building, brick by brick, until only scrub-covered ground remained. And then we sat, and compared notes on what it means to exist. And in a thousand years time when the aliens finally discover this lonely blue dot, they'll see us and they'll know that you and I, we didn't destroy ourselves. Or they won't, because we will be gone.


“I’m bored,” Tina said, her thirteen-year-old face expressionless. “How long we gotta stay in this house?” She leaned against the refrigerator. “I miss Massachusetts.” Karen Miller sighed, placed her hands on her hips, and said, “Sweetheart, we move every year, you know that. And how many times do I have to keep explaining to you about the damn virus situation?” “But this is stupid.” “Until the virus shit is under control, we have to avoid unnecessary interaction with other individuals, understand? We don’t want people to ask questions, right?” “Who cares,” Tina said. “I’d be better than staying in this house. In this stupid state.” The coronavirus known as COVID-19 was responsible for keeping Tina out of middle school and her mother home from work at the college, her position deemed nonessential by the powers that be. In fact, most of Naperville was on lockdown. However, the virus hadn’t affected her dad’s job because he worked from home anyway; he was a computer programmer for a software company based in Silicon Valley. “I’ll tell you what,” Karen said. “When Dad finishes his conference call, we can ask him if he would like to play a game.” Tina’s eyes grew wide; she jumped, her long, blonde curls spraying in every direction. And the moment her socks touched the kitchen floor, she asked, “Monopoly?” Karen frowned at her daughter. I hate that fucking game , she thought. Why not drive a dull knife though my eye? “You know your father does not like to play that game. So . . . maybe we should let him pick. What do you think about that?” “But Dad always--” “Dad always what?” Mike said, stepping into the kitchen. He had a Bluetooth earpiece attached to his left ear and was still dressed in New England Patriots pajamas--even though it was almost six o’clock in the evening. “Daddy,” Tina squealed, “you wanna play a game?” “Sure, squirt. I’m done with work for the day.” Karen tapped a wooden spoon on the edge of a big pot that was simmering on the front burner of the stove. “After we eat dinner, that is. The stew will be ready in about fifteen minutes.” She looked her husband up and down. “You smell like death. Take a shower and put on some real clothes.” She placed the spoon on a ceramic spoon rest shaped like a pineapple. “Maybe an outfit more appropriate for your age.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” “You are not a college student dividing his time between frat parties, drunk sorority girls, and bong hits.” She locked eyes with him. “Once, just once, I would love for you to act your age.” “Are you guys gonna fight again?” Tina asked. “No, sweetheart,” Karen said, “I’m just having some fun with your father.” She looked at him with disdain. “Right, Mike?” Through clenched teeth, he said, “Yeah, right. Just a little fun. Your mother is quite the comedian.” He turned and left the room. To her daughter, she said, “Go wash up for dinner.” Tina cocked her head. “But I already--” “Now, young lady.” Tina plodded off without uttering another word, for which her mother was grateful. And now the room was quiet, except for the soft bubbling sound coming from the stew. Karen closed her eyes and rubbed her temples in soft circles. She said aloud to herself, “Take a deep breath. At least the day is almost over.” She opened a cabinet door and removed a glass. “And you have plenty of wine.” After a lengthy and uncomfortable dinner, they all gathered in the living room, seated on the carpet around a rustic wooden coffee table. The room was lit by two lamps on either side of a brown leather sofa. The cream lamp shades cast an eerie glow that created ghostly shadows around the room and etched hard lines on all of their pallid faces. “Dad, what game do you wanna play?” Tina asked. “Sorry, Life, or . . .” “Anything but Monopoly, right?” Karen said, taking a drink out of her third glass of wine. “Let’s see . . . decisions, decisions,” Mike said. “Hey, I got an outstanding idea.” He pointed one index finger toward the ceiling. “How about we play my favorite game?” He glanced from daughter to wife. “What about that?” Karen took a gulp of wine and said, “Obviously, you have forgotten what happened the last time we played that game.” “Yeah! And you tried to cheat, too, Dad,” Tina added. He lifted his head in a theatrical manner and sniffed loudly. “What is that smell . . . it smells like . . . chicken.” Karen drained her wineglass; her ruddy cheeks were now even rosier. “Fine with me. If you’re ready for your funeral, then so am I.” She smiled at him sadistically. “Chicken it is,” Tina said, raising both fists in the air in a symbol of victory. “But you two can’t fight, okay?” Ignoring his daughter’s comment, he said, “I’ll get the knife. You grab the sand timer, sweetheart. Not the one from the Boggle game, but the thirty-second timer.” “I know, I know. The red one.” Karen lifted her glass and said, “I’ll pour some more wine.” Mike narrowed his eyes and said, “Darling, you might want to stay sober. Don’t want you to have an excuse when you lose.” “Darling,” Karen said, “you might want to plant your thin, chapped lips on my big, white ass.” Tina tittered. And a few moments later, they were all back in the living room. A large butcher knife and a plastic hourglass with red ends now lay in the center of the coffee table, kitty-cornered to a glass of merlot placed in front of Karen. “Who’s going first?” Tina asked. “The same person that has gone first for the last fifty-plus years,” Karen said, then took another gulp of wine. She hiccupped, swallowed hard, and added, “If nothing else, this family is mind-numbingly consistent.” Mike picked up the threatening weapon by its black handle. “Okay, remember the rules.” He stuck the tip of the blade into the surface of the wooden table, dead center, butt of the knife jutting upward. “Once the timer is started, you have thirty seconds. The other two have to keep their hands flat on the table--fingers spread.” He looked at his wife. “And if you pull your hand away . . .” Karen stuck up her middle finger at him. “How ladylike,” Mike said. “Now, as I was saying. If you move your hand, you lose. And if the timer runs out, it’s the next person’s turn--in a clockwise rotation.” “Come on, Dad,” Tina said, “let’s play sometime tonight.” “Okay, okay, take your positions,” he said. Tina and Karen placed their hands on the table, fingers splayed out wide. Tina’s hands were directly in from of her, pinkies almost touching, but her mother’s hands were left and right of the wineglass placed in front of her. Mike rubbed his palms together. “Here goes nothing.” He flipped the timer over; sand began to spill from the top bulb into the bottom bulb. His eyes fixated on the butcher knife. Several seconds later, apparently concentrating so intensely his entire body trembled, the knife began to vibrate. “Move dammit!” “Times’s up!” Tina said, nodding at the hourglass. “Nothing for you.” “Shit, I almost had it. I was so, so close.” Karen leaned over to her husband and whispered into his ear, “Close only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and stories about women you almost fucked.” “Umm, you said a dirty word.” Tina clasped her hands over her ears. “No fighting, guys, please.” “Your turn, Dirty Girl,” Mike said, flipping the timer over. Tina and her father placed their hands on the table. Karen concentrated on the knife, focusing her ice blue eyes first on the blade, then the handle, and finally the tip--which was partially embedded in the wood. Move you piece of shit. The knife wobbled back and forth. Her eyes widened, and she clenched her teeth. The knife jumped into the air, hovered for a second, and shot downward, sticking into the surface of the table halfway between her husband’s index and middle finger. “Damn! That was close,” Mike said, yanking his hands from the table. “Thought I had another hole in my hand coming.” “Way to go, Mom,” Tina said. “My turn, my turn.” “Your precious hand would heal by morning,” Karen said. She took a sip of wine and then under her breath, “Unfortunately, you insignificant prick.” Tina took her turn but wasn’t successful in moving the knife. “It’s not fair. I never win at this stupid game.” She folded her arms. “Why can’t we ever play Monopoly?” “My turn again,” he said. After his wife and daughter had positioned their hands on the table, Mike began his turn. This time, he managed to get the knife raised into the air; however, it flipped on its side and zipped wildly to the left, piercing Karen’s left eye. “Oops, my bad.” “You are a bumbling, worthless, sack of shit,” Karen said. Blood now oozed from her eye and ran down her face in tendrils. “This is the last time I’m playing this damn game. Do you hear me? The last fucking time.” She grabbed the knife by the handle and pulled. There was a wet, squishy sound as she removed the blade. “That shit hurt.” She tossed the knife onto the table. Tina reached over and put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “You’ve been saying that for years, Mom. But it’ll be healed by morning--like you told Dad, right?” Karen looked at her daughter with the only good eye she had at the moment. “This game is over. Time for bed, smartass.” Tina started to appeal to her father, but he shook his head. “This isn’t fair. I hate both of you. I wish you guys would have died in that car accident.” She stormed out of the room. “Me, too,” Karen said, covering her bloody eye socket with one hand and guzzling wine with the other hand. “Anything would be preferable to this horror that never ends.” She thought about crying, about screaming until she felt better, but what was the point. “And you, dumbass, get me a towel.” She put her glass down on the table. “And fill that up, too.” “At least we have each other,” Matt said. “Sure, we have our problems, but at least we’re all together.” She smiled at him with an exaggerated lovingness. “Sweetheart, I’m bleeding all over my clothes. Get me a damn towel and some wine. Now!” And they lived happily ever after, and after, and after . . .


Once upon a time, there was a girl named Jenny. She was a very beautiful girl. She lived with her father, who worked two jobs just to keep her comfortable. Jenny loved her father very much especially when he brought her toys. When it was time for Jenny to go to school, her father sent her to a private school in their village. Jenny was so happy that time since she was going to the best school. With Jenny's happy attitude, she quickly made friends in her school, in fact, so quick that she haven't even met her teachers yet. The class started and Jenny and her classmates introduced themselves. During Jenny's introduction, all of her classmates were delighted to see her smile. Some of them even shouted that they found their class muse already. Jenny was flattered and was very happy to be well-welcomed. As the introductions finished, the teacher gave school requirements for the students. Jenny was shocked to see the amount of notebooks and other things she must have to buy to complete the whole academic year. She was worried that her dad might not have enough money to buy all the requirements. After last period, Jenny walked with her friends outside of school and noticed her father waiting for her. He called out to her and Jenny rushes to his side. Her father was riding a bicycle and told Jenny to hop on so that they can go home together. She agreed and said goodbye to her friends. All of her friends were surprised of how Jenny was riding her dad's bicycle instead of a car but shrugged it off their shoulders and went home soon after. At home, Jenny showed her father the list of requirements. Her father looked down and took a long breath. He calmly said to Jenny that it may take some time for him to buy all those school items. Jenny understood their situation well enough and reassured her father that it was okay. Her father smiled and hugged Jenny that night. Jenny woke up early the next morning and excitedly prepared herself for another day at school. She kissed her father goodbye and went to school. She saw her friends and greeted them then walked together to the classroom. Her friends started showing their new notebooks and bragged about their cool designs. Jenny suddenly felt out of place because she doesn't have a single notebook with her. One of her friends asked her where her notebooks were and she hesitantly said she does not have one. They smiled a little bit and asked why. She looked down and said that they don't have the money right now. One of her classmates jokingly said that she should sell her old and ugly bicycle to buy notebooks and everyone burst into laughter. Jenny kept her head low all day, until it was time to go home. Jenny didn't wait for her father to pick her up from school, she just went home by herself. The dinner of Jenny and her father was silent. She didn't tell her father what happened to school that day and just said she was fine. As Jenny was taking the trash out, she saw a black notebook with pink-colored text. She grabbed the notebook and saw that the text spelled out as Genie. She immediately fell in love with the design of the notebook and its expensive looks. She scanned the notebook to see if all pages were already used but to her surprise, only one page had text on it. She noticed it was a poem and she read it. "Write your wish,Your hope, your desire;Then behold it appearWith magic and fire." Jenny brought the notebook to her room and was happy knowing she now has a notebook of her own. She didn't mind the poem at the first page so she just kept it. She read the poem again and decided to write her own wish in the notebook, a box of pencils. To her surprise, something fell from the notebook. It was a box of pencils. She was shocked and she quickly let go of the notebook on her hand, confused of what just happened. Her confusion later became happiness when she realized it was her wish that gave her the box of pencils. She slept with a smile on her face that night. Next morning, Jenny was back to her old self. She was excited to go to school again. She met her friends in the classroom and showed her new notebook to everyone. All of her classmates were amazed at how beautiful the notebook was. One of her friends joked about her selling her bicycle to buy the new notebook she has but she quickly lied that it was a gift from her auntie back in France. Everyone became more amazed and started to be more friendly to Jenny. As classes started, the students were asked to draw the thing they loved the most in life. Jenny started to draw her father but before she could start, someone asked her if he can borrow a pencil from her because he lost his. With the box of pencils she had, she quickly let her classmate borrow. It made Jenny very happy she could be someone her friends can depend on. At home, Jenny started writing different school items on her notebook. She started writing coloring materials, papers, couple of notebooks. Then, one by one, it all fell down from the black notebook, slipping from the pages. She was so happy to have all the things she only wished for before. The next day at school, as she was about to meet her friends, she noticed that one of them was crying. She asked her what's wrong and her classmate replied that she lost all of her new stuff. Her classmate didn't know what happened because all of them was in her bag the whole time. As Jenny's classmate enumerated all the stuff she lost, Jenny recognized that all of the things mentioned by her classmate were in her bag. She was silent the whole day in school. Jenny went home as soon as classes ended and examined her school items. She realized all her notebook's gifts were actually stolen items from someone else. She felt guilty of what she did. She thought that the best thing to do is to give back the items she received but she also doesn't want her classmates to think she's a thief. Few days past and Jenny was still in dilemma. She didn't know what to do and to make things worse, she was starting to desire more things from her notebook. Everyday, her classmates would brag about their new stuff to class. She felt out of place every time. One day, as the teacher was sharing stories about her life to the class, one of the students asked if she achieved all her dreams in life. The teacher replied that she didn't but it did, however, gave way to much better things she didn't hoped for. She then added that maybe it was destiny that made her life better than what she originally planned. Jenny then realized something. Maybe, she was chosen to take hold of the notebook. Maybe, she deserved to be happy by making use of the notebook. Maybe, it was her destiny to be its owner. And just like that, she decided to own the notebook. Weeks passed and Jenny was demanding more and more from the notebook. She wished for a new bag, a new watch, even a new pair of underpants. Her father was starting to be suspicious of how Jenny was able to have all the things she had. He asked Jenny but she assures those were gifts from her classmates for being such a good friend. Her father believed her and let her be. A few days later, a police officer came by their house. Jenny's father asked what the problem was. The officer told him that there has been multiple reports of missing items and they were asking around the area if anyone noticed any suspicious activity. He replied that he didn't noticed anything. The officer then let him look at a list of all the stolen items, hoping he could be of some help. He recognized the watch but was not sure where he had seen it so he didn't say anything to the police. The officer thanked him for his time and went on his way. The next day, Jenny woke up late for school. It was the day of her test and she overslept. She skipped breakfast to catch up with the exam. Because of her rush, she forgot to bring a lot of things with her, including her watch. Fortunately, she was able to take the exam. She realized after the exam that her watch was not with her. That watch was one of the things she wished in the notebook. It was originally her teacher's. She became paranoid and looked around her bag, however she couldn't find it. As soon as the classes ended, she ran to her house. She looked everywhere in her room but the watch was nowhere to be found. As she was about to go out of her house to retrace her steps, her dad called out to her. Jenny looked back and saw her father sitting in his chair holding her watch. Jenny asked her father why he's wearing her watch. Her father asked why would her daughter steal. Jenny looked guilty however she said she didn't know what he was talking about. Her father's face continued to look pale and told Jenny that he couldn't recognize the daughter he loved all his life. Jenny started crying asking for forgiveness and tried to explain about the notebook. Her father raised his voice, asking Jenny to stop her lies. He, then, stand up and said he would go tell the police and Jenny should take responsibilities for her actions. Jenny begged, trying to convince her father's mind, asking to understand her needs and wants that her life cannot afford. Her father cried but was firm to his decision. Before he left, he told Jenny that the greatest thing he can give her, is the gift of understanding. In life, you just can't have all but that doesn't mean you'll go around hurting others because of your own limitations. Jenny fell to her knees while watching her dad go and change her life forever. Jenny rushed to her room and looked for her notebook. The black and pink notebook ruined her relationship with her dad. She thought that if not for this notebook, her father would've loved her forever but another thought came to her mind. Maybe, it was her dad who's in the wrong. Maybe, they weren't compatible in the first place and he would never understand her. Jenny grabbed her notebook and stared at an empty page. She made up her mind and wished for a better father. Suddenly, all her crying made her tired and she fell asleep. The next morning, as she was getting ready for school in the living room, she remembered that the police should've been at their house, looking for her, but fortunately, none came. She thought that maybe the notebook changed her father's mind and called out to him to thank him. As she was calling her father, an unknown man walked in the living room. She screamed and demanded to say his name. The man explained that he is not a bad man, in fact, he is her father. She was shocked but was not convinced and threaten the man that she will call the police. The man was confused and told her to stop with the nonsense. He then told her that they have been a family a long time and asked her to remember. Jenny looked at the family photos and she was even more shocked and scared. All of the pictures have the man's face in it instead of her father's. She asked what happened to her original father and the man replied that he recognized the name but if he remembered correctly, that man lived long ago but was killed by her own daughter. Jenny went to his room and swept through her notebook. Every page has her one wish written, a better father. She cried and teared each page from the notebook. She shouted and cursed the notebook while tearing it apart. However, as she tears one page, another page appeared. She was mad and violently asked the notebook what it wants. Slowly, the notebook writes unto one of its pages, the notebook wished for Jenny's death. At this point, she was very scared. She looked for the man in the house and told him what the notebook wrote to itself but the man can only see an empty page. She went outside the house, finding the village trashcan where she can throw the notebook. Out of nowhere, a car hits her and she was thrown into the air. Jenny's head hit the ground. Everyone around the area tried to help her but she died immediately. The notebook fell into the trashcan, waiting for its another victim.