\[ I \] Matilda stood atop a hill staring into the void where the ocean and the night sky met. She often waited by the shore and dreamed of the day she would get to leave her cursed land. Her disparity was as sharp and painful as the crisp morning air and held tight within her upper chest. She had longed to break free of the chains that imprisoned her to the land of her ancestors, and felt ashamed upon their defeat in a sense. Her village had been burnt to the ground by savage invaders and she lie witness to the mass slaughters as they had served as a second sweep in the night. They went around raping and finally decimating her and the remainder of her Tribe following the settling of the fires they had cast in the dead of night. She had dreamed of her capture and sexual assault systematically by each full moon, and found insanity lay with those who avoid sleep. She walked down the formed paths that she had once fixed with her cousins and admired each Redwood tree she passed knowing that they were the only living organisms that witnessed and could confirm that all those who’d she had lost were indeed real at one point of time. These trees she had once climbed upon in playfulness now only reminded her of that night when she lost everything. They had ransacked her village with no remorse or reason that she could understand...and left only two out of every ten of the village. She was one of the last 200 of her Tribe, and they narrowly escaped with barely even that before the wave of disease hit. The evil spirits brought forth by these men with the skin the color of dead fish bellies and the eyes the color of death itself. They had done this on purpose and she knew it. She had also initially known why they were there, as her father had told her that this day would come. They had came in search of her Golden Fleece. As the fire roared in her dreams she reminded herself of the last command she was given by her father to run. She shook anxiously as they made eye contact for the last time and she had no room to object as his fellow Warrior took the lead and threw her over his shoulder and whisked her off into the night as had been his orders. They had made the strategic plans and moves to help her and select few others climb up the giant 200 foot tall tree. They climbed for what seemed like forever and remained in the softened trellises of the heavens until they learned the language of the enemy. This too was command by her father and she was too afraid to disobey the orders of their leader. Her father had been right so often in the past that it seemed detrimental to assume he knew what he was talking about this time around. Time passed and it wasn’t until it was only her and one other left alive that she felt it were the proper time to descend from the giant Redwood. They had both mastered the language of the dead-eyed savages and she felt comfortable waiting on her yard to proceed to fulfill her following commands to guard the Golden Fleece. There along the shore she continually paced back and forth maddened by her grief...screaming into the crashing waves. They argued with her relentlessly and she often left the beach deterred and defeated that she had lost her voice screaming into the void whilst the ocean continued on with its reckless clashing. She was told her howls were the screeches of nightmares, but each night she would return to try and cry out each tear as though she were reuniting her lost family with the ocean. She felt her eyes swell like the waters she stood in, and felt nothing as time never waivered the sadness she felt deep in her heart. The second she stood outside of that ocean she felt a massive indescribable weight bearing down upon her shoulders and crushing her spine with the weight of the world. She held herself responsible for the death of her village and felt the empath disease cripple her as though she were caught in an unpredictable tide along the shore. It was a burden she carried from protecting the Golden Fleece. The details of time were not hers to worry aboot, as she had the body of a child but the sharpened mind of Warrior having recently returned from combat. She felt indifferent to the now lazy and pretentious dead-eyed savages all around her, and found it ironic that they had campaigned across her land stating that they were superior to her and all those who didn’t look like them. In this time of ignorance they had lost sight of their initial goal to retrieve what they had came for, and sat down and turned to stone with no intentions of standing up unless they had to. They had come for the Golden Fleece and forgotten mid search as they were busy boasting of their victorious conquests to one another until they forgot how to fight all at once. It was none of her business to judge these heathens who continued to rape women and children, but still she found it hard to not stab an obsidian arrowhead into their throats at times. She would postpone on acting on this compulsion as her sole purpose was to hold her position near the void until the Warriors of the sky came to retrieve the Golden Fleece. How had she came to be in possession of such a sought after article? It was a late gift from her late father, and a priceless family heirloom carried down through time since the beginning of the existence of the Earth. It was gifted to her Tribe after they had saved a woman from drowning soon after they witnessed her falling from the sky into the ocean. She said that if she would have died that the flood that followed would have washed over all of the land because of how high she had fallen from. She was hysterical as she often clenched a box and argued with the severed head of her dead husband. She managed to speak Yurok with aid of this corpse and spent copious amounts of time giggling at her husbands non-verbal jokes. Since her crash landing our Tribe watched as our trees began to grow at more rapid pace, and took it to be a side effect of the sky woman and whatever magic she had carried with her in her leather bag. Our tribe found it best to leave her in peace as she wandered around yelling orders at her husband, and they often jested that her poor husband must have known she was darkened in the mind when he agreed to their nuptials. She would live the rest of her days hiding in our trees, and was said to have used her magic to shrink our Tribes people, as we too had been given the same growing properties that seemed to have accelerated the growth of the Redwoods. It was done out of her compassion for us, as she worried there would come a day in which those who she escaped from in the sky might find giant trees guarded by eight foot Warriors to be a giveaway of the presence of magic. We were reduced to the heights of neighboring Tribes and our trees continued to grow without us. Upon her old age she felt safe enough to sit down and explain the importance of her mission and finally told us of the curse brought by the Golden Fleece. Before the world had started turning there had been nothing but chaos amongst the Gods. They seemed to argue about what to do with a rogue star and they worried it would cause damage to the other surrounding worlds if left unchecked. The sky woman had decided that the only way to slow down the star was to add weight to its tail and she appointed herself in charge of making the star slow down. She made many magical items and crafted them from objects found only on living planets. By the time she had fashioned the Golden Fleece the other Gods had decided they wanted to sell the star for profit and that her project was no longer relevant. She attested this deal because they knew nothing about the star and its potential to collide with everything. She explained that it was on a collision course where if it met another star even half the size head on...that the stars and worlds would be swallowed up by darkness and nothingness. She pointed out the precise time when and where the two stars were calculated to met but the Gods only cared about their own selfishness and chose to continue with their bargaining. She stated that one of the smaller stars following the wake of the destructive star had water on its surface and an island where she thought she had seen life. To this the Gods laughed and made fun of her active imagination. She set out to prove that life could exist on the star and decided to help it grow into a planet. She with the aid of her now dead husband worked to make a series of devices that held up the golden net that surrounds the Earth, and this net kept life safe to flourish as the star continued to chase the star of destruction. She had put a Golden Fleece on multiple stars trying to get them to spin just enough so that she could figure out which held water. She needed the clouds to prove that there was enough water for her and the Gods to live, as they were looking for a new home to settle on as refugees. Her family found out that the clouds had appeared and that the couple had been correct and decided to call off the trade. To this decisions the sketchy buyers lost their temper and demanded they continued with the sale. They found out what she had done and so they took her and her family captive where they are chained to chairs held down by magic lighting. The Gods remain stuck asleep talking to one another and conversing with no one all at once. Her husband came to save them but only managed to save his wife before getting caught. They captured both and chained her to a wall and raped her as he was forced to watch in horror. When her spirit remained unbroken and she fell into shamelessness they thought the only way to break her was to make her watch as they ripped each limb off of her beloved husband and threw the long limbs into the sky so that he would cease to exist. This was too much for her and she became so enraged by what they had done and with that unmeasurable rage: all of the devices she had made began to power-up and work all at once as her screaming voice commanded them to retrieve his body from the darkness. The devices stored her orders and held her operations secret until they could give her enough powers to move metal into any form she needed. She fell into madness until a soldier who kept guard for the traders took shame on what they had done to her and he hid away two pieces of her husband to bring her back from cusps of insanity. This act of defiance and rare selflessness gave her the ability to remember her husband and she was able to ward off all those wished to rape her, as she was still chained to the wall. The soldier helped tone down her anger and often brought her kindness with his company whenever she asked for him by name. There they stood learning aboot the sciences and laughed at her troubled youth together, and so they continued to do such as they waited until her devices had enough magic lightning stored to break her free from the metal chains. One day she ripped her rosey hands from the walls and directed the soldier to guide her to where he had hidden the two pieces of her husband that he had salvaged, and thanked him for his ability to break protocol to save her and her beloved husband. She promised she would return the favor in kindness and that he had given her hope in people once more by his actions. The intelligible soldier had never been acknowledged for his originality and was confused by her praise considering he was still a soldier. She left him to dwell on her appraisal upon retrieving the two decapitated pieces and then proceeded to mold a sheet of metal around her husband's head and another piece around his severed penis in order to preserve them. She felt embarrassed for her husband as she knew he was modest and prudish to the extent that he’d be annoyed how much others had been talking about his penis up until this point without his knowledge. For a scientist and a male: he didn’t seem to find penises as funny as she did, and it gave her moderate joy knowing this would be mortifying for him to learn once she figured out how to resemble him. She would often chuckle to herself and mumble disapproval that his penis was unhelpful when it was not attached to the rest of him, and that he already had a difficult time keeping his pants on. She continued rummaging the sky in search of her Golden Fleece needed to help mend her broken husband and find route to escape the prison in the sky. She became frustrated as she rushed aboot and eventually slipped and fell from the sky into the ocean. She explained to the locals that she fell in conical black shell in the sky and had fallen out of a conjoining shell that allowed them to shape time in form of an hourglass. She had lost control falling in noticed it were the wrong shell she had exited, as there was no moon in the sky where she had landed, and it meant she was stranded with no way to return home. Here is where she came to be as she mourned her lost love and found the courage to make one more last device: a Golden Fleece that would be the most powerful in comparison to the others. She spent the rest of her life building the device in the shadows of the Redwoods, and finished just in time to give it away before she died of grief and she resorted to casting herself from the widows peak and fell up into the sky where she had originally come from. Long story short: that’s how the Yurok Tribe came to be the protectors of the Golden Fleece. Matilda had always loved that story growing up, but she often was left mourning the fact that she’d never get to hear her father retell the story over a fire. Upon mastering English she continued to abide by the orders to keep details of the Golden Fleece and its location between her and the Tribes until the sky people returned. She often admired the sky woman and her journey and also avoided romance because she too feared her future husband would be ripped to pieces if she ever wed...as had been taken aside and warned that she had the same curse that the Golden Fleece had brought upon the sky woman. As time passed she found it safest to take the Golden Fleece and tack along the outside of a book so that it wouldn’t be recognized by the dead-eyed savages that roamed aimlessly on her yard. She had learned the method of consolidating as it were passed on from the sky woman, and did this task by hand before she climbed down the Redwood tree. The book appeared to be an ordinary looking book, but it was lined with gold as this was the magic bestowed upon the book by the Golden Fleece. The gold that brought the book alive had once been the exact gold that was historically reaped from her own river by the dead-eyed strangers...as they came in droves from far-and-wide looking for fortune yelling “Eureka” whenever they found smallest amount of gold pieces settling along the straits and narrows of her river. How odd these dead-eyed savages appeared to her, as she watched them drink poison and fall to the curse of Hera. They would destroy and rape whenever they drank the poison of Heras bottled rage, and in turn their hair began to fall out over time. Their children would also be cursed by this voluntary poison drinking and so would their children, but no matter how much she tried to tell them about this gene alteration, she was only met with contempt. They assumed her broken English meant she were challenged mentally and her demeanor too guile to ever be taken seriously, and so she began to simply stare at their thinning hair to point out their inadequate genes nonverbally. The pale-skinned visitors became offended by this and decided it best not to talk to those who still lived in the Redwoods. She watched quietly from the shore as they left the river in flocks...bored of the scavenger hunt they had given everything up for a few bits of gold. She came to the same spot where the river meets the ocean and waited patiently for the Warriors the sky woman had been promised would arrive as to assists the last commands on what to do with the Golden Fleece. One day she became burdened beyond consolement walking with the ghost of her father but he was unable to speak to her despite her desperate listening. She fell crumpled in a ball of shame for having forgotten his voice and became ill with a curse from Hera, as she had wished to try and force Matilda to admit that she was not worthy of her father. She left with the Golden Fleece and traveled up north where the village was filled with more lights than the night sky. She kept walking until one day she came across a drewery place where it seemed to rain whenever she was near a large dirty river that divided the land. She found comfort in the fog and enjoyed how the murky skies matched her grieving heart. She set forward a plan to learn all that she could about the gold that powered her device and decided she could probably build her own if she had the proper parts. She began asking those living in the rain for help until one day she met a strange man who called himself a Viking. This term isn’t commonly used as they had once been defeated by the Tribes in the North and were rumored to be a myth, so she began to question if he was really a Viking. She observed him quisically and remained doubtful that he was Viking, as he seemed impartial to social injustice and chose to stare downward at his feet wherever he walked. His vanity was noticeably more important than hers and he seemed to bask in the attention given to him by females who took note of his broken sharp eagle eyes and the stump leg that he often hid. He seemed to demand her attention at all times as he was unaccustomed to be ignored, and often resorted to booming orders if she playfully ignored him. It wasn’t until she saw him running one random rainy day that she was almost convinced that he may have actually been a Viking at some point in his younger years. She consulted her magic book and was enamored by the image of him trying to smile when she searched for his battle history as a Viking. She became infatuated with him and fell under a spell that caused her to sleep whenever she wasn’t crying, as she became bored without the Viking yelling at her for no reason. She told him of this weird new development and he began to laugh at her as he was just excited to see her openly admit that she cared about him. As he laughed she began to smile for the first time and they both noticed that the rain had finally stopped. They made habit of awaiting the other and began to test if the rain only came when she was not near enough for the Viking to be content with the day. She often took joy in knowing he thought the rain only happened as proof that he missed her, and with that: she learned to love the rain. She didn’t tell him about the device in her possession, as she had became attached to the Viking and still dreaded the fate he might face if he decided he still wanted to wed her as they had previously agreed upon. He told her of his wish for a son and she became ill and frightened that he actually looked forward to fulfill his intent to wed her, and she began to destroy the land and dreams of everyone around her. She knew she could never wed the Viking and he became offended by her absence and began to yell at anyone near him, as he secretly hoped she would appear by his side once more giggling and softly informing him that he needn’t yell before walking away until he was left with only the option to follow. The secret of her curse lead her to withhold more secrets from him and he grew angry with her for all the things she wasn’t allowed to say. In the meantime she had helped construct a new device with the aid of a kind-hearted couple who used music to cast their magic. She and the kind-hearted couple found the finest materials and made her a new and improved Golden Fleece. She ran away from both the rain and the Viking as she had found out he had grown bitter towards her many secrets and given up on her all together. She knew it was for the best, and lived each moment hating how much she missed the Viking, and knowing she had given him reason to hate her. She found it best that she return to the trees and continue to await the Warriors who were to hail from the sky. One day she returned to read her magic book and was surprised when a man who resembled Mars appeared under a chapter marked the book of faces and said hello as he introduced himself as an Argonaut. He invited her to join him in battle as they marched the streets demanding justice for the children that lived with little hope. She had known the terrors of injustice and decided to take up arms and join the Argonauts in battle, and appreciated that they too wore skirts in battle and donned war paint on their face. They gave her shelter and food as they prepared to storm the land, and even found way to introduce her to their leader: the First Minister. They fought side by side trying to save the children of the Argonauts homeland and were left retreating until she could return the next year. She felt guilt leaving them so soon but knew the children were in good hands under the protection of the Argonauts. She felt the one who resembled Mars saddened by her leaving in a way that reminded her of the Viking and decided it’d be best to tell him of her quest to protect the Golden Fleece. Upon learning her secret he grew more comfortable with her and she found his heart was hardened from his many years in battle before her arrival. He found her interesting and at some point had attempted to call her out by her Yurok name. She was amused by his frugal speech, and informed him that her true name was not meant to be said verbally, as it kept her awake at night whenever people said it aloud. He was confused by this and the man continued to tell her how he had found out her real name by researching her battle history and relentlessly struggled to pronounce it with his thick accent. She fell tired of this quickly and explained that her name was the Yurok word for “Sir” and that he was to address her by her English name: Matilda unless he would find resort and be comfortable enough to call her by her real name which was “Sir”. She told him and his comrade (who is known as Hercules by some): informing them of the origins of her name. She had been born with no name and date of birth, and received her name after she was raped as an infant at the age of one and a half, and then left abandoned on the side of the dirty river where it now rained. She avoided looking at them as she informed them both that her father had once called her “Sir” to make others stand at attention, and then gifted her with the Golden Fleece as a means to provide her further strength to heal from having her sexuality stolen from her soon after birth. The name was to remind her that she was not a victim to her circumstance but a person that other men commended and her endless might was why she was chosen for the task of protecting the Golden Fleece. The Argonauts understood and felt off-put by this tragic history, and fell back into the habit of calling her by Matilda out of their own comfort. She fixed her unkempt hair and wiped away her teary eyes and they continued to enjoy each others company instead of dwell on her quest. She wished that the one who looked like Mars had never brought it up, but was ok with letting him know her secrets. She worried his rage would manifest if she didn’t continue to embrace him, and found it silly how he enjoyed hugging her as often as he did, as though he wasn’t sure she were real and physically standing next to him. She realized upon having the discussion surrounding her Yurok name: that he stood a bit taller taller and his laugh seemed more bolstuous, and this made her smile sincerely in the same way that she once had with the Viking. He became less enraged as they walked, and she remained persistent and calm while listening to his resolve of conflicts unending. She seemed distracted by his earnest and polite demeanor and gifted the him the honor of the secrets she had once kept from the Viking, but avoided telling him aboot the Viking himself for a reason still unknown even to her. She found herself blushing and decided that she’d be honored to run beside him in battle but knew they held no romantic commitment to one another. They argued about a conversation she had held with Captain of the Argonauts, as she had updated him on the details of her quest and lack of success thus far. She found she admired this leader and laughed with the captain as she finally began to ask if he knew of the random Viking wandering around on her land yelling. They held a conversation of friends who had known one another their whole lives and she felt safe enough to provide secretive details that she knew could never be revealed to the other Argonauts at any cost. As she told the Captain she was relieved to see the Captain had a Redwood figurine nearby and she remembered that the Viking still needed her help because he was old and his leg had began to transform into a tree trunk. With that she began to miss the Viking she still loved and left the one that resembled Mars to continue brewing in his need for hatred. She wished the Argonauts goodbye and promised to return, but only after they came to her shore...to this deal they all agreed. She felt her heart was a bit more heavy from the battle they fought but knew that her aid was appreciated mostly by the Argonaut who resembled Mars and his Captain. She knew she would miss him and the Captain at her side but knew that if she were to stay she would be left probably wanting to wed the one who bore resemblance to Mars, as hoping to stop him from returning to his battle ways. She dismantled all thought on the matter as she worried this fate would conjure whatever curse was projected by the Golden Fleece. She returned to her land near the shore, where she was greeted by fire. Her yard had caught aflame while she was gone and the leader of the dead-eyed savages was now standing too close for her comfort as he pretended to have not taken part of setting the fire. She stepped begrudgingly off her sky boat and found that everything in her yard was now on fire and/or racists. She grew impatient with Argonauts and secretly worried that they had forgotten her soon after her departure. She could not yell across the ocean and was left and to make the rational choice by herself as whether to suit up for battle, and lastly found it wise to consult and ask for the support of the Argonauts leader: the First Minister. This was a woman of high respect to all Argonauts and Matilda had been very impressed by the leader she had briefly met on her travels. She wrote the woman who lead the Argonauts and held her voice loud enough for the world to hear, and waited by her magic book for any word pertaining to tactical advice the leader could provide for such a predicament. She had never seen a fire grow so wildly, and watched as it swallowed people whole with no intent of apologizing. She sat tight and waited for both suggestion of the First Minister and for reply from her respected Argonauts as they all were still left fighting in the dark trying to save the children along the land of what is now known as the North Sea. She sat impatiently trying to learn how to be helpful in a time of great danger and noticed that her magic book somehow had physically become lighter in weight. She had asked the Argonauts for their help casually at some point on her journey, as the music had made the her magic book too heavy for one person to carry. She decided to lament her true darkness to these friendly Argonauts and how the quest had been delayed due to her curse that caused her to weep stronger than any sea, and the boredom she fought as she struggled like a child, fighting to stay awake. They showed no hesitation in handling the task of lightening the payload of the weighted contents and helped her fix the item that had began degenerating the strength along her spine under its massive weight. Time seemed to quicken its pace since her return when she had been cast into a fire, and she grew frustrated that the thickening smoke lingered enough to obstruct her view of the stars. The Captain of the Argonauts had once told her that he’d remember her each and every time he looked up at the moon, and they left knowing one anothers darkness and the understanding that he too held curses from the Gods. She missed her Argonauts each night as it lay eight hours East to her time and since she had only broken the sound barrier once...she already doubted her abilities to even begin design on a sky boat that could fly fast enough to catch the up to the Argonauts in time for Christmas. \-A Traditional Yurok origin myth composed and re-mixed with Greek myth by: Matilda Brooks US Federally Recognized Property #562-6146, Yurok Tribe, CA.


It was a breezy autumn day in Paris, France. People bustling on the streets, cars honking, birds chirping. Just a regular day. A young girl, Ava, was looking for a coffee shop to stop by. She wanted to find a peaceful place to do her homework, since she had a pop quiz the next day. Then she noticed a little coffee shop hidden in the shadows. It was almost smaller than an apartment house, and was painted a soothing brown color. Planks of wood lined the walls, and a a sweet but bitter aroma of coffee came through the windows. She could see people gathered together buying drinks in the corner, a bench with cream and sugar, and polished tables. There were also a few light red and white umbrellas in front of the shop, above some wooden benches and a round table. But one thing caught her eye. It was a sign, and neon letters were written on it, along with drawings of leaves and drinks. “NEW AUTUMN BASED DRINKS! LIMITED OFFER, ONLY $4.99!” it said. “Mm, that sounds delicious! And it's a little shop too! A perfect place to study!” Ava thought. So she entered the store. It was dark at first. After her eyes adjusted to the light, the first thing she heard was studying music playing quietly. There were people buying frappuccinos, people wearing headphones and just laying there, people typing on their computers. The coffee machine was grinding in the background. Ava immediately loved this place! She walked to the front and looked at the menu. There were so many things to choose from! Hot chocolate, Americano coffee, lemon tart, cookies, tuna salad, espressos, cappuccinos, sandwiches, macaroons, frappuccinos, drinks for dogs, and finally, the special autumn drinks. There were three to choose from: the Pumpkin Spice Latte, the Hazelnut Frappuccino, and the Autumn Coffee Special. “The Autumn Coffee Special sounds most appetizing,” thought Ava. “Hello, welcome to the Coffee House. What would you like to order? My name is Noah.” Noah said through the counter. “I would like to order the Autumn Coffee Special, and a tuna salad please.” Ava replied. “Umm...t-that will be $3.99 please...” “Okay?” Ava was very confused. Why was Noah acting like that? It was just a purchase. Later, Noah handed her a paper bag with the company’s logo printed on it. When Ava looked inside, there was only a tuna salad! There was no Autumn Coffee Special! She stormed to the front desk again, staring at a nervous Noah. “Why is there no Autumn Coffee Special?” She demanded, but still kept her cool. “I’m very sorry, but we are out of stock! It turned out that this drink became very popular.” Noah exclaimed. “Oh, then in that case, that’s alright. Thank you for telling me and giving me the tuna salad!” Ava replied nicely. Then she walked away. Noah gave a sigh of relief. He thought Ava would get mad and report to the manager! Then he would get fired! “Heh, why did I ever think that Ava was trying to get me fired? She’s such a nice person!” Noah thought happily. On the other side of the building, Ava was thinking too. “It was just a drink after all. Nothing to be sad about,” she whispered. She settled down at a nice desk to study for her quiz. A young man named Benjamin was sitting right next to her, signing some documents on his laptop. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a yellow t-shirt below that, a pair of dark ripped jeans, and blue sneakers. He had blonde hair, mixed with hints of blue from his previous hair dye. He had heard the whole conversation between Noah and Ava, and he felt bad. So he got up and exited the store. 10 minutes later, he came back and had a cup in his hand. It was full of a drink of some sort. He went to Ava and lightly tapped her shoulder. “Hey, umm I heard that you wanted the Autumn Coffee Special so I bought you one from the other store!” he said. Ava was stunned. She couldn’t believe that somebody would do that for her! And especially someone she didn’t know. It's not like she wanted it that much. Ava blushed, and accepted the drink with a warm smile. She was very embarrassed, and to thank the stranger for his generosity, she invited Benjamin to talk the next day. She wanted to buy him a drink and talk about their day. Benjamin happily agreed, and they went their ways for the day. They met every single day from that day on. They would talk about how they failed on tests, how their day was, how they forgot that their lunch was on the stove! They exchanged numbers and addresses; sometimes they even went to each other's houses to have lunch or to study together. Soon, Ava caught feelings for Benjamin, but she didn’t tell him. She was too worried that he didn’t like her back. Sometimes she would show signs, but she didn’t think that Benjamin noticed. In Benjamin’s brain, he noticed everything. He thought it was cute of her to do that. But he never considered that she liked him. One day, Benjamin didn’t come to the Coffee House. She waited all afternoon, just sitting and waiting. She even bought some salad and just stared at the door. She sat there until one of the workers came and asked Finally she had enough and went to his house. His parents answered the door. “Where is Benjamin? He always comes to the coffee shop with me, is he alright?” Ava asked. “Oh yes, he didn’t tell you? He’s going out with-” his parents replied, but was cut short. Ava stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her, just as Benjamin’s parents finished the sentence. “I can’t believe I ever loved him!” Ava shouted to no one in particular. She ran to the closest bench, sat down, and cried. She thought that Benjamin was having a date with some other girl. Ava didn’t care if people were staring at her. She was just so mad at Benjamin! “Calm down, Ava. It’s not his fault, you never even knew he liked you or not.” Ava thought. She then buried her head in her arms, crying in distress. Benjamin was running as fast as he could. When he got back home, his parents told him what had happened. He thought that the only place that Ava could have been to was the coffee shop. So he ran faster than the wind to find her. On the way, he heard sniffling and loud crying. At first, he thought it was just a random kid crying over a lollipop or something. But then when he slowed down, he recognized the voice. It was Ava’s! He found her crouched up on a bench, crying her heart out. “AVA!!!! It’s me, Benjamin!!!” Benjamin yelled. Ava looked up, wiping away her tears. Then she got up and turned the opposite direction. She didn’t even want to see him, let alone talk to him. “Ava, PLEASE, let me explain what happened!!!” Benjamin pleaded. “What is there to plead about?!?! You were out with a girl who’s got to be your girlfriend! What else is there too?!?! Get away from me!” Ava screamed. “Just let me explain! And please lower your voice down people are staring at us a lot-” “I DON’T CARE IF THEY’RE STARING!!!! All I care about is getting away from you, jerk!” Finally, Benjamin had enough of her. He wanted to explain what really happened!! He didn’t want her to take it the other way! “If you won’t listen to me, I’ll just tell you!” Benjamin replied with the slightest hint of a smile, then grabbing onto her arm. “Hey stop it! Get away from me-” “I was out with my little sister on her field trip! I needed to volunteer because they needed a counselor!” Benjamin blurted. “H-huh?” “Yes, and I’m very sorry that I didn’t tell you!” “Oh in that case that’s alright, I forgive you!” Ava exclaimed, smiling. “W-w-what? One moment you're super mad at me, and now you're all smiling and forgiving me?!” Benjamin stuttered. “Yeah, but you're just volunteering right? So that’s no problem,” Ava said, “But, don’t, ever do that again!” “O-oh right, yeah!” Benjamin said, putting on a smile even though his brain was whizzing with confusion. Then Ava skipped right down the road, a big smile on her face. Benjamin, on the other hand, was in complete confusion. Ava was just yelling and crying at him a few seconds ago! And now she’s all happy?! “Enough of this nonsense,” Benjamin thought, “It’s time to do my real job now...” Ava stopped in a dark alley. There was a person dressed all in black- black hoodie, black sunglasses, a black mask, black shoes, black pants, black hair, and even black socks! “Well?” The mysterious person asked. “Did you get him?” “Yes,” Ava replied, “Come on... let's go kill him.” Ava finished with a grin. Benjamin looked around for anyone staring at him. Then he casually walked to a nearby corner behind a building. He took a walkie-talkie out of his jacket. “Is she ready, sir?” Someone asked through the walkie-talkie. “Yes,” Benjamin replied with his eyes closed. “Let’s go finish her.”


Rolly looked up through the leaves of the elm at the small, dark, tee-shaped figure soaring graceful figure eights high above against a backdrop of fresh, fat spring clouds. The hawk sent a cry down to earth, high-pitched and slightly raspy. Rolly’s siblings shivered all around him and emulated frightened turtles ducking into their shells. The six baby starlings that surrounded him whispered amongst themselves as if afraid the great hawk in the sky could hear from that far away. Maybe he could. His sister Serry whispered, “It’s him . It’s the Black Hawk,” as she huddled even closer under Rolly’s left wing. “Shhhhh!” whispered Hod. He pecked ay Serry and said, “he’ll hear you---” “Don’t be silly,” said Rolly, “he’s too far away.” “The Black Hawk has super hearing powers,” Big Mot said and Hod added, “yeah...and eyes like high-powered radar.” Rolly said nothing but stared at the hawk in awe, wishing he could someday soar like that. He knew that that was an impossibility. A single tear leaked from his eye as the hawk soared out of view. He focused on the clouds that had now blotted out the last blue from the sky, their bottoms grown heavier and darker, and he felt that at least one of his prayers had been fruitful. It would rain this afternoon and hopefully throughout the night and next morning. The young starlings unhuddled and looked towards the west. They could see little except forest and as they watched the horizon darken to dusk, they detected the ozone scent of the water gathering in the sky. The indigo light of dusk made them excited. It meant momma and poppa were coming back with dinner...it made them nervous too, worried that momma and poppa would not come back...after all, the Black Hawk had sounded ravenous. Rolly’s two sisters began chirping soft wailing little cries of distress as they always did as the sky grew dark. His four brothers’ heartbeats were as fast as the sisters, but they would not weep. At last, a cry from the east behind them, “Tooooweee ta-wooo!” Momma was home. An answering cry, “Taweeee-tawoooooo!” was Poppa, farther away but on his way. All seven baby starlings warbled happily. There were no stars that night and no moon either, the cloud cover efficiently curtained their brilliance away. Come the next day, Poppa flew off at the first hint of a paler shade from the east like a black dart shot from a crossbow. Momma stayed behind and spoke to her brood, “I’m sorry children, as you know, it will soon rain.” She lifted her sleek head to the sky, her glossy ochre feathers speckled black and gold, were already dappled with beading drops of drizzle. She puffed out her feathers until she was three times her size to keep her babies warm and dry. “I know you were all anxious and excited to test your wings today for the first time, but we will wait until the storm is over.” Rolly hoped it would never stop raining. Fat drops pattered down on the leaves all around the starling’s nest, as hypnotizing as ancient tribal music. By noon it had escalated into a symphony complete with the clashes of thunder like cymbals, and shrieking wind like arias. The wee starlings shivered but were not afraid. Momma told them stories. “But what if the ending isn’t happy?” It was Hod. “Like what if the Princess Sparrow gets eaten by something evil?” “Yeah,” piped up Terry who was neither boy or girl starling, he/she hadn’t decided yet. “Like what if the Black Hawk swoops her up---” “---and chomps off her head!” finished Fuzzy Mot. “Children! Where do you get such imagination?” But she chuckled softly above them. Hod said, “the Black Hawk was up there yesterday. We were worried you two were gonners!” Serry and May stifled sobs. “Now now children. The Black Hawk is old. We are so much swifter than he...” The girls dreadful sniffling stopped and Hod said, “But he is evil Momma. We heard he ate his children...” “And tore up his wife with his own talons,” added Serry shrilly. Rolly shivered and looked up at the sky. It was getting dark. The rain was letting up at last. He shivered again though not with revolt but with fear of the dawn. Momma Starling said, “Well yes, he has done some unforgivable things. Rumor has it, he ate a poisoned rat and took over the sickness of it.” The children nodded as if they understood. “Please just stay out of the sky when he’s circling.” “He’s so graceful and his arcs so elegantly...perfect,” Rolly whispered softly, he was half- napping. Big Mot pecked him. “Ouch!” “What the fern are you sayin’?” he sputtered at Rolly. “Oh. Uh...nothing! I was dreaming. About...uh...” “Nevermind, you useless gimp. After tomorrow we will all be forced to abandon you.” Momma sighed but did not argue. The rain stopped as if on Big Mot’s side. He smirked at Rolly and shrugged. And though it was near dark, the Black Hawk’s lonesome shrill cry sounded from high above. Rolly thought so high, he was over the clouds. Another tear trailed down his black feathered face. He’d never get there. Come the morning he’d commit to his death. Call it suicide...call it just surrendering...he’d known from the time he had hatched he was different. All the other chicks had normal bodies and normal feet and beaks...and wings. He did not. His right wing seemed to be lagging a muscle or ligament or something. It was shriveled and drooped. When he lifted it, it flopped. Big Mot was right, they would peck his eyes from his head to save him from seeing his terrible fate. They would defecate on his back as they all flew away, as a way of leaving him with a part of them as he was left to die. Die he would, with no water. He could eat bugs but why bother? What is a bird that can’t fly? A useless gimp as his brother had aptly pointed out. The Black Hawk cried out again and Serry asked Momma, “Tell us about the Black Hawk Momma...did he really attack the Wherrywill Owls? Did he really tear the eyes from Prince Egon?” Rolly listened in wonder. His siblings all around him oohhhed and aaahed...he was surprised to find himself adding his voice. That hawk was truly evil. He’d obviously sold his soul to Mother Nature’s nemesis, Satan. And even in the pitch blackness, the Black Hawk's cry instilled ever more icy terror in their hearts. Only an insane hawk would fly at night. His Momma said, “Stay away from him. He may rain blood from his last victim upon you!” The starlings shivered as at last their father came home with crunchy green crickets for dinner. The sky grew light. Rolly’s siblings trembled with excitement. He was trembling with the anxiety of his coming death. On a whim, he stood up and flapped his small wings. One flapped with the power of a turbine engine, the other waggled a little bit. He sighed. He heard his father’s voice in the distance and prepared to say goodbye. Then he heard the cry of the Black Hawk. His father screamed. The hawk screamed in triumph. Rolly’s mother cried out in anguish like a siren on the sea. “Is he---?” a sister queried. “Quiet!” Momma screamed. “Today you will learn to fly. Tomorrow, you will feed yourselves.” No one spoke. Momma’s eyes were blazing with non-compos mentis. The overcast sky was as dour as Momma Starling’s mood, she would mourn later, when the nest was empty and her babies soaring all but one. Momma Starling nudged Big Mot and Hod to the edge first, as they were the biggest and would set a fine example. “Remember your lessons children! And be brave!” His brothers did not hesitate, they flapped their strong new wings and flew high over the trees. Rolly hid behind his mother. The girls went next, to prove they were just as strong, and they soared even higher. Fuzzy Mot and Terry swooped dangerously low before remembering their lessons, they flapped furiously and cried out with relief when they recovered and flew after their sisters and brothers. “Rolly. I’m sorry but you must leave the nest.” Rolly came out from behind her tailfeathers. “You’re not sorry. Why’d you even bother to name me?” “Your father,” her voice faltered, the word fractured, she cleared her throat... “Your father named you after his favorite uncle, Roland. He thought you’d be special. But you turned out to be afflicted as his grandfather had been. He also had a cousin with Lame Wing. That one refused to leave the nest and was pecked full of holes, they snapped his legs as well, leaving him an eyeless broken thing when he hit the ground.” Rolly shuddered. He would leap bravely to his death and die with honor...and his eyes. “I love you son.” He had never heard her say that to any of them. “Go be with your father now.” Rolly leapt from the nest as far out as he could, with his beak held high and his tail feathers spread wide. His good wing was strong, he instinctively flapped it madly... inevitably, he spiraled towards the earth. His lame wing curled under his belly, the wind from his passage held it there as the ground came up fast. He looked down and writhed to avoid a thick branch. Better to die quickly in a splat on the ground than to break your back on a branch and lie paralyzed for days. He missed the thick branch, only to whack his head on another. The lights in his world went out. When he awoke, he was flying! He was looking over the tops of trees and fields and a great silvery-blue river. “Whaaaaa?” he croaked, “Is this heaven?” “Shush.” Came the voice from above. It was deep and calm- the voice of his father! He slept more soundly than he ever had, all his anxieties gone. The flight he had thought a dream turned into a nightmare when he opened his eyes at last. He lay in the shadow of an enormous black hawk... the Black Hawk! The great old bird lowered his head to study the starling, late afternoon sunlight pierced Rolly’s eyes like shards of red-hot glass. Rolly, now frustrated for not being in heaven, said bravely, “Just get it over with. Eat me already.” The large bird of prey chuckled softly, grandfatherly, and said, “ Eat you? Don’t be silly. I’m no filthy cannibal.” He cocked his head. “Oh. I see. You have heard stories of me. I suppose I could have put an end to all that hullaballoo...” he flapped a wing and a gust of air pushed Rolly nearly over...”but the truth is, I simple wanted to be left alone.” He stepped aside and into the ray of sunlight and Rolly saw that the bird was not black at all, but steel grey, his wings brown and speckled with red and gold. Great dark eyes shone with wisdom in a somewhat scruffy face gone frosty with age. “Name’s Fisher by the way...” Rolly sat frozen, glaring, trying to comprehend... Fisher understood and nodded. “I saw the raven come after your father and cried out a warning to him but was too late. Rest assured that raven will prey upon starlings no longer. I watched your nest afterwards. Starlings can be quite high-spirited and emotional, many come unhinged when they lose a mate...irrational even.” Rolly swallowed. Fisher spoke the truth. “What a brave little bird you are. I witnessed your gallant leap just seconds before...well, nevermind about that. But why waste something so precious as a life?” “Perhaps your old eyes can’t see this ?” Rolly flopped his deformed wing and could not help leaking tears. “What? A little wing that needs some attention?” Rolly goggled at him, confused. “What?” Fisher looked around, his head swiveled around to his back comically, like an owl’s. “Have I got crawdads crawling from my ears?” Rolly felt the tension burst from him in an expulsion of laughter, he felt a hundred times lighter. “I’m serious young man-bird. While you were sleeping, I took the liberty of inspecting your infirmed wing...” “Infirmed?” “Well, yes. As in ill. An illness can be cured. Your wing needs to stretch to its full capacity, that’s our first step. Then we will exercise the muscles under it until they are atrophied no longer.” “We?” “Well, you can’t do it on your own...” “I thought you wanted to be left alone.” Fisher puffed his somewhat scrawny old man-bird’s chest until he looked twice his size, his eyelids lowered to half-mast. Rolly feared he’d overstepped his station as a child bird, “I-I-I’m sorry. None of my business.” “That is correct young sir. And what do I call you anyways?” “Rolly, sir. But I’d prefer Roland.” “Well, Roland. No time like the present.” Four hours later Roland’s curled up wing was stretched straight and bound to two straight twigs with scraps of twine pulled from Fisher’s spacious nest. It hurt at first, but Fisher was patient and gentle, flexing the little wing further and further until stretched to its maximum length. Rolly winced at first, then sighed as blood rushed to the atrophied muscles. When it was splinted at last, dusk had fallen. They ate apples and lettuce and fish for supper. Roland ate ravenously though his wing throbbed. “There’s a farm over that hill you see on the horizon.” Fisher pointed a wing towards the moonlit hill. The farmer leaves me a selection from his crop, I eat his rodents. But it is fish I truly crave.” “I’ve never had it fresh like this before. This is way tastier than maggots.” “It’s trout from that river we flew over yesterday.” Fisher talked about trout and gobies and carp and catfish. Roland dozed off, his mind and belly full of fish and fresh veggies. He shivered in his sleep when the wind flew in from the north and registered Fisher covering him with his substantial wing. He was awakened by a rumbling in his ear and realized that Fisher was talking in his sleep. ‘ Not just talking...he’s sobbing.’ “Yasmine...no, don’t...” Summer sun on a spring morning awoke Roland. He was shocked to find he’d slept past the coming of dawn. He was alone in the large aerie. The distant cry of the old hawk brought him happiness instead of fear, it came from beyond the hill on the horizon and Roland wished for more fresh produce. That day, all throughout grueling physical therapy sessions, Fisher answered the boy bird’s endless questions. “...but why do some birds migrate in winter and not others?” “Well, some birds handle the cold better than others. Hawks migrate where there is adequate prey. If it were to snow in this territory, I would migrate south. It rarely snows here, and I am old, so I do not. But I do know of some younger of my breed that do. Many small birds stay because they are simply too small for such a taxing flight. They have special feathers. Ever notice how fat they appear in winter?” On and on he talked. The old bird knew everything! Early one June morning, Roland awoke alone as usual, but witnessed a dark cloud in the midst of the pale cerulean sky. It covered half the sky with blackness. It wafted closer in slow motion, rising, spreading, then falling into a dark tartarean wave. The wave swooped upwards again, and Roland’s heart swept up with it. They were starlings. Hundreds of them...perhaps a thousand! His kin were performing a grand murmuration, and he longed to fly with them. “See that one in the front?” Fisher’s voice had startled him. The old hawk was quiet as a ghost. It was a quality Roland had gotten used to and admired. “Yes, it’s like a maestro conducting an orchestra.” “Well, that could be you.” Roland once would have argued, demeaning himself, but this day he said, “Yes, I would like that.” He flapped his two turbine strong wings and darted off like his father had- an arrow from a crossbow- into the cloud of his clan. He soared through them and upwards... they all turned and followed. They followed the one who could soar like a hawk. *** “Yes Yas...I did as you asked. May I come home now?”


Someone was sitting in her chair. Sigh. She looked around trying not to get overwhelmed at now having to pick a different place to sit. She always sat there. It was this beaten up and torn vintage brown leather chair in the corner of the café with a window facing her favorite tree and near the bookshelf. Also it was perfect for people watching and she didn’t have to worry about anyone really disturbing her. Normally she came in the early mornings and would work on her writing or sketching and then read for a little bit while enjoying a couple cups of coffee. She wished they would put a reserve plaque for her reflecting: Ellie’s Corner. That shouldn’t be too much trouble since she came here so often! Right!? Right, Ellie. First world problems right here. Not getting to sit in your favorite corner of the world, because this person just had to sit here. How did they even get in here this early? “Hey do you want to sit here?” She didn’t know what to do. She froze. Was she really just standing there staring at this girl angrily because she wanted her seat? What happened to sharing is caring? Now what was she supposed to do? If she said yes, would she be considered rude and snobbish. If she said no, would she just look like an idiot? Crap, Crap, Crap!!! “It’s ok. I’m about to start my shift anyway. I know you normally sit here, I just wanted to see what was so great about this corner? I think I understand now.” “Umm thank you.” She mumbled shyly gripping her notebooks tightly to her chest. She sat in the chair and set her books on the wooden round table underneath the window and groaned inwardly. That was embarrassing. Should she just leave now. Would she have to find herself a whole different Coffee Shop to go to from now on. She just wanted to curl into a ball and die. “Hey, sorry if I seemed so forward and startled you earlier. I know you normally enjoy drinking our Pumpkin Spice Latte but I thought you might enjoy trying this new drink I came up with called: The Pumpkin Surprise! I hope you like it!” She started walking away before she could say anything in response. Great now she had to try a new drink! Today was just not her day! She Always got the same drink! It was so scary trying something new! No, she was going to do it! The girl, the barista with the pretty green eyes, wow she didn’t even know her name. How self centered was she? No, She wasn’t self centered she just struggled with her mental health and that was ok. Just a year ago she wouldn’t even have let herself be out in public. So this was good! She just had to try not to be so hard on herself. Maybe she would even try to ask what the green eyed girls name was today before she walked home. Sniffing her pumpkin surprise she felt like she was being hugged and as she curled up into the giant comfy chair she looked outside at the oak tree with it’s changing autumn leaves falling to the ground. She smiled. “Hi can I have a peppermint white chocolate mocha with skim milk and no whipped cream? Oh and I would also like an egg croissant sandwich please?” “Sure, that will be $8.95. Cash or Card. What name would you like for the order? Thank you and have a nice day!” Turning from the customer Maddie sighed, blowing her bangs off her forehead. Today was busier than normal for a Tuesday morning. As she finished gathering her customers orders and finally the store came to a lull she had a moment to breathe. She supposed that was ok, that it was pretty busy. More money for the store and it just meant she would be less distracted by. Shaking her head with a small smile she glanced over at Ellie in the corner looking out the window. She was so shy it was adorable. She had been coming in here for about a year now and the only reason she even knew her name was because she asked what name she wanted for her order. Ellie always came in at the same time, ordered the same drink, sat in the same seat and always did things in the same order every time she came to the café. Maddie was a patient person and thrived on chaos. She was always busy with working at the café, going to full time college, working out and volunteering at the animal shelter on Friday’s. She had a few couple close friends and would spend time with them when her schedule would permit. She always looked forward to seeing Ellie every time she came into work. Her friends had tried encouraging her or rather teasing her about when she was going to ask Ellie out. Maddie would always laugh it off. Her schedule was too busy for a relationship and she had a feeling Ellie had a lot going on emotionally and didn’t want to be another complication in her life. She always seemed to have this aura around her that was bittersweet. Like she was bearing the weight of the world on her shoulder and just needed someone to share the load with. Over the course of the year of serving her drinks and observing her. Ellie seemed to be improving. She was starting to look around the café more, sketch more and seemed to be blossoming into herself more and more. Ellie didn’t know it, but she secretly always made sure that that corner of the café was reserved for her and was her spot. She just didn’t want Ellie to feel self conscious. She hoped that her sitting in her spot and bringing her a new drink wasn’t too much for her. She was almost about to graduate college and apply for teacher positions but she still wanted to work here part time mainly so she could see Ellie. Pulling her shoulder length shiny wavy black hair into a messy ponytail she looked up to see Ellie staring at her from her chair. Cracking a smile at her and tilting her head. Ellie blushed and turned away. Yawning Ellie smiled with satisfaction. She got a lot of writing done today. She was going to try and submit some of her stories to a women’s magazine later this week and was trying not to be excited and nervous and trying her best not to talk herself out of it. She gathered her things and was about to head out the door when she took a deep breath and turned around walking back to the front counter. “Hi, I... uhh...” She stammered. This was a mistake. What was she thinking. She couldn’t.. “Hey Ellie! How did you like your coffee?” “It was uhh..good. Thank you. How did you know my name?” Ellie asked nervously. Her brain thinks stalker, stalker, stalker... Maddie pointed at her coffee mug with the sticker saying Ellie on it, smiling. “Oh, right sorry about that.” “It’s ok! You’ve also been coming in here for the past year and this is your favorite drink you always get right? How’s your writing been coming along?” “Good, I..think I’m going to try and get some of it published this week!” “Congratulations! I’m graduating college this week!” “Oh wow! Congratulations! That’s great!” “I’m Maddie by the way.” “Sorry a year of coming here I should know your name by now, I’m so selfish!” “You aren’t selfish for not knowing my name! Don’t worry about it!” “Thanks.” “Umm do you think you would be up for..” “Well I have to get goi...Sorry what were you going to say?” “Oh, nothing, don't worry about it! Have a good rest of your day Ellie!” “MMmm ok, You too!” Ellie stammered walking out of the cafe mentally hitting herself in the head. Maddie sighed. She finished closing up shop, locked the door and dropped her keys. Bending down to pick up her keys someone was bending down to pick up her keys with her. Ellie? “Hey Ellie, thanks! Didn’t you go home earlier?” “Yeah, I just...I just..I wanted to say thank you for always being so nice to me! I tried baking some pumpkin bread since you always seem to have that when you work..And was wondering if you would want to hang out sometime after you get off work?” Handing Maddie a box with a piece of paper on it with a phone number. Maddie and Ellie stared at each other for a while. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to..” Ellie said, embarrassed starting to shift away. “I would love to.” Maddie said smiling. “Ok great, see you tomorrow then.” Ellie said. Maddie smiled to herself, shaking her head in awe. Ellie was so lovely. Looking at the autumn leaves starting to appear on the trees next to the cafe Maddie was filled with a sense of excitement and happily headed home. She couldn’t wait for this new chapter in both her and Ellie’s Journey.


Reposting to adhere to guidelines :). This is inspired by the prompt: "A dating guide for the recently resurrected". Enjoy! **Love After Life After Death** Dating was awkward for Taylor long before he was killed by a metro bus, but it certainly hadn’t made things any easier. He checked his watch. She was fifteen minutes late and the waiter was beginning to throw him pitying glances whenever he passed. It wouldn’t be long before he was getting awkward stares. To pass the time, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small handbook. *Love After Life After Death* was a short read by any stretch of the imagination, but it had given Taylor hope in what had otherwise seemed like a bleak situation. “Whether you’re a shambling corpse resurrected by a necromancer, or some science experiment gone horribly wrong, your love life doesn’t have to be over,” he repeated the words under his breath. It was the opening line to the manual, written in big, friendly letters. The vision of the resurrected wasn’t the best, so big print helped. “Taylor?” asked a distinctly female voice. Taylor jumped and looked up into the eyes of a beautiful woman. He stumbled to a stand, shoving the book in his pocket, and held his hand out to greet his date. “That’s me,” he mumbled, a little awkwardly. She took his hand and shook it. “So formal,” she chided. “S-Sorry,” he stammered. “I just haven’t been on one of these in a while.” Her hand was cool to the touch. *Is it possible?* He wondered. In the book, it had listed several key phrases to look for when trying to find a resurrected partner. Adeline’s profile had used three of the five. Taylor recounted them in his head as he sat back down. ‘Recently returned from a long trip.’ If the manual was to be believed, that meant she had been dead for quite some time, but looking at her face, he saw no signs of it. Her skin was pale, sure, but in the Pacific Northwest, that wasn’t an indication of anything. There were no abnormal lines in her makeup betraying the marks of an autopsy either. *Did I misinterpret things?* ‘Looking to meet someone fresh, but not too fresh.’ That was signaling her level of decay. One of the key rules laid out in the book was the Rule of Descending Composition. The author advised to approach people who were at or below your current rate of decay. This prevented those who looked mostly normal from being approached by a bunch of shambling zombies reciting love poems. Apparently, it caused some issues back in the day. Finally, she had said: ‘Let’s not bring our parents into this.’ That meant that she was likely the result of a necromancer and didn’t want to meet someone raised by the same means. Necromancers tended to fight with one another when encounters occurred between their creations. Adeline cleared her throat, peering over a menu at Taylor. *Shit, how long have I just been sitting here?* He had been so focused on figuring out if she was undead, he had forgotten to say anything. “Sorry... again.” It felt lame, and came out lame, but she smiled at him and his tension eased. “No need to be so nervous.” She laid the menu down on the table. Even as he tried not to, he assessed her face again, scanning for anything. By all accounts, she looked alive, and that wasn’t a good sign for him. Luckily, before he could make more of a fool of himself, the waiter came by. “Can I offer either of you anything to drink?” Taylor looked to Adeline. “I don’t know, Taylor, think a drink might loosen you up a bit?” Ever since his resurrection, drinking hadn’t been the same. Occasionally after four or five beers, he would start to feel a tingling sensation, but it passed just as quickly as it arrived. Nevertheless, he grinned and said: “It’s worth a shot.” “That’s the spirit.” Adeline looked over a small drink menu and ordered an old bottle of wine. *How old is that bottle? Does it mean something? Probably not, right?* No matter how hard he tried, Taylor couldn’t seem to get out of his own head. He ran through the guide’s list of questions to ask on a date and pulled one out at random. “So, Adeline, where are you from originally?” It sounded corny as he said it, but at least he was talking. “It speaks!” she exclaimed, bright mischief burning in her eyes. Taylor felt as though he would blush but knew he couldn’t. The woman who had brought him back had fucked up his facial capillaries. Without tastefully applied rouge, he looked like he was suffering from a fatal disease. “Central Romania,” she answered. “But I’ve been here for a long time.” *Central Romania, well that’s a good sign.* If there was anywhere known for ghosts, ghouls, day walkers, and the undead, it was Romania. Taylor quickly shifted to the next obvious question. “Are you close with your family?” if she really was undead, he was coyly asking about her master, or raiser as it were. If not, it was a simple question with a simple answer. “Not so much.” There was a twinge of sadness to her voice. “Let’s just say the man who raised me was more than a little mad.” Her eyes briefly went to the table, but quickly returned to meet his. Taylor’s heart did a somersault. That all but confirmed it. She was a member of the recently deceased. “Taylor,” started Adeline, “Would you like to ask the question that’s really on your mind?” Her gaze was piercing and froze her heart. “What would that be?” A tremor had crept into his voice. *You’re blowing it, man.* “I think we both know...” “Are you,” he started, but she interrupted and finished. “Yes, I’m a Capricorn,” she replied, throwing up her hands. “I know, you’re a Libra, and things can never work out between us.” The look of confusion on Taylor’s face must have been easy to read, because a smile spread across her lips. “Relax,” she said. “I’m fucking with you. I was raised by a necromancer about five years ago. This isn’t my first time on one of these.” She motioned to the table. “So, why don’t we just relax, have some wine, and we can dig into our afterlives a little bit later?” “Okay,” said Taylor, grinning from ear to ear. The waiter arrived and poured them both a glass. Adeline raised hers, winked and said: “Cheers to Love After Life After Death then.


The Ghost Who wanted a home Nicole jalonen in honour of black lives mattering A woman dressed in white with blonde hair ran down a dirt path carrying a crying infant girl in one hand and a lantern in the other. She was a African American women who had to obey a white family who were very wealthy. Not only did she race through the foggy stormy night with her crying infant but she carried with her scars from whips and a dark secret she knew she would be beaten for if her mistress caught her. She could hear her pursuers right behind her as she ducked low branches and raced through puddles , then she saw it the boat her daughters way out to freedom!....,,,,, Centuries passed and it was 2020 . In Boston massetutqtes. Where a twenty two year old African American woman was struggling to make ends meat for herself and her twin boys . Being a women of color in this world was not easy. Though slavery was not permitted anymore African Americans were still treated differently and were slmost demon used by the media saying that an average of crimes like assault and murders were committed by black men . Yet when white people made it to the news their crimes were always downplayed it seemed. Or African Americans were called vulgar names and were accused of stealing always. So Nia Miston and her sons Devahn and Shawn ages 10 years old were always careful and kept there heads down . For fear the same thing that happened to poor George Floyd would happen to one of them!Nia had a degree to become a lawyer and wanted to start her own practice but knew it was going to be an uphill battle for any firm to even hire her. But she and her boys had moved recently so she hoped by the move she could find a job as a paralegal . The first few weeks they spend moving their furniture and belongings in their four bedroom house they were now renting and during the move Nia noticed things like dishes and cds and pillows and hammers being moved around the two story house. She didn’t think much at first maybe her sons moved them or the movers. Then the house was moved into and everything was put into its place and it still happened . Remotes went missing , and would appear in different rooms all the way up stairs. Or into the attic or the basement . Eventually as the weeks went on and Nia came home from her temp job as a dog walker . She came home for lunch peered up to the second story of her house and saw very clearly a ghost of a African women in a rag brown dress. And very messy wavy black hair staring straight at her through the bay window ! No sooner had she saw the ghost women the Nia stopped dead in her tracks and thought fearfully that a homeless women had broke in her house! Heart pounding in intense fear she raced up the front steps and into the upstairs brightly lit with sun room but the women was gone ! A month later after that and Nia never saying anything to her sons about what she had seen her son Shawn was at home alone while she was at a friends place with devahn . Shawn was a thin African American boy of ten years old who loved soccer and painting and watching horror movies. Right now while his mom was out he was watching seteven kings it even though his mom had forbade the twins from watching that movie until they were older. Right at the part where never saw the clown and all the blood in the bathroom sink he heard a strange woman’s voice yell. “Bad boy shouldn’t watch that!” Yet he knew his mom and brother were not home yet . With his heart pounding so loud he thought he could hear it in his ears he tiptoed up stairs and down looking for an intruder !thinking someone had broken in! But the ten year old found no one til he was in the dark cold basement with a flashlight because the bulb didn’t work down there it only ever flickered on and off! Once Shawn entered the basement the boy felt a rush of cold wind push him backwards and into the brick wall . No bleeding he heard a cruel man shout . “You don’t belong here !” So he ran out of the house and waited outside til his mom and brother came home! Now that one of her sons had gotten pushed and hurt by the ghost Nia called in paranormal investigators to search her new house and what the team of psychics found and a priest was not only did a African woman from slave days still inhabit the house she worked in but so did her white rich master! Suddenly the psychic women were hit with a vision of a young blank women in brown torn dress running through a first with a baby as her mistress the wife of her master hot on her heals with a whip yelling vulgar things at the women and saying the African women would not bare his child and he and his wife murdered her because she had given birth to her masters child but they never found the new born baby girl !” Then they had another vision they assumed from the women spirit in the house showing a black wound in brown dress racing through the woods with a caring infant with the master close behind her until she lost him and found her way to a vhurch where she left the baby girl just in time for her master to Find her mom and murder her but her baby daughter grew up safe and happy and the servant women said she wanted to tell someone her story and had guided her descendant Nia back to her masters house .” So the priest exercised the masters spirit out of the house and Nia allowed the servant women’s ghost to reside in the house with the family ! The end


Poncho sat, crisscrossed applesauce, on the carpet, slamming two toy trucks against one another repeatedly. He had been doing this for hours without getting bored. He liked the sound they made. He liked the anticipation of the moment of impact. He wondered how long it would take before one or both broke. He didn’t want it to happen, but he was surprised it hadn’t and was curious if it might. He enjoyed breaking things and seeing if he could put them back together. He noticed that this did not make his dad very happy, but he couldn’t help himself. He liked creating messes and then seeing how effectively he could clean them up. He paused as his father came in through the front door, briefcase in one hand and phone in the other, speaking softly to the invisible person on the other end, “Trust me, I’m trying. Look, it isn’t as easy as you think...” his dad stopped. Frozen. He glanced at Poncho and quickly put the phone behind his back. As if trying to hide it. As if to disguise the fact that it was really there. Poncho couldn’t raise his eyebrow just yet, but if he could, he would have. He had seen the phone. Did his father not know that? “Hey buddy,” his father said in a voice that was too loud and a smile that was too big, “I didn’t see you there...” Poncho stared and said nothing. He had realized at a very early age that if he said nothing, people were bound to say more. To speak faster. To reveal secrets. “Are you here by yourself? Where’s your sister?” his dad asked, realizing suddenly that his young son was seemingly in a house by himself. “Reyna’s in her room. Talking to boys,” Poncho said the last part with a smile. He watched for his father’s reaction but there was none. His dad just nodded, looking around some more. What he was looking for, Poncho didn’t know, but he was disappointed that nothing came from the, “talking with boys,” comment. That usually sent his dad into a frenzy, where he’d storm into Reyna’s room and take away her phone which caused an even bigger scene and from there it spiraled into beautiful chaos. “Ok, well,” his dad said, “...I’m going to go to my room...take a nap...you good?” Poncho nodded. “Who are you talking to?” Poncho asked. “Huh?” his dad said, finally looking at Poncho. Poncho could see that his dad was upset, maybe even scared. And as much as Poncho liked to make a scene, he didn’t like seeing his dad afraid. It made him afraid. “Nothing,” Poncho said, deciding to just forget the phone. Most adults, he noticed, didn’t talk about what they wanted to talk about. They skirted around things or didn’t mention it at all. They ignored until they couldn’t. His dad nodded, visibly relieved. He gave Poncho an awkward pat on the head and walked to his room. As the door closed, Poncho could hear his dad’s muffled voice. Poncho knew he should stay put. He should just keep banging his trucks together. But what he should do and what he wanted to do were two different things. And being a child, a young child, despite the fact that he was a very smart child, what he wanted to do usually won. He crept toward his father’s door, the sound of his dad’s voice getting clearer as Poncho got closer. He sat, crouched near the door, ready to flee in case he heard his father start to leave the room. “Of course I love you, baby,” his dad whispered. Baby? Poncho thought. Why was his dad speaking to a baby? “You know there’s no one else. Why would you say that?” his dad asked, his voice growing more desperate. Poncho was confused. There was a baby. And his dad was telling the baby that there was no one else. But his dad was lying. There were others. There was Poncho and Reyna. Why was he lying to the baby? “I do want you,” his dad continued, “More than anything. More than anyone. You know why this is hard for me. I thought you understood.” Poncho sat stunned. His dad wanted this baby. More than anything. More than anyone. More than him? And was that why it was hard? Poncho closed his eyes, fighting back tears. It was hard for his dad because of Poncho and Reyna. Clearly Poncho and Reyna were obstacles to his dad’s happiness. Poncho leaned his head against the wall and sighed. He knew that his dad was tired. Constantly tired. Working all day and taking care of Poncho and Reyna in the evening. Reyna was 15 so she kind of took care of herself but she still needed to be fed and driven places. But then recently, his dad seemed good. Awake and happy and energetic. And Poncho thought that maybe work was better. Or maybe his dad was eating better. He had heard that could change things in a person. But he was wrong about everything. His dad was happy because of this new baby. Which still somewhat confused Poncho who had heard that babies were a “handful.” If that were true, why did his dad want this baby so much? Was it that great of a baby? Was it better behaved? Maybe the baby didn’t break things. That was probably it. “I’ll tell them,” his dad said, “I promise. I’ll tell them tonight...you want to come tomorrow? Well, I don’t know...” Poncho could feel his heart pounding. What was his dad going to tell them? Was there going to be a new baby? Or was his dad going to abandon them? What then? Poncho couldn’t imagine Reyna taking care of him. And he didn’t want her to. He wanted his dad. Maybe if he promised to be better. Maybe if he swore he would never break anything ever again. It would be hard, but he would do it. Poncho stood and took a deep breath. He was going to go in. He was going to tell his father that he knew and that he could change. His dad didn’t have to leave. Didn’t have to get a new baby. Poncho jumped as Reyna came out of her room. “What are you doing?” she asked, seeming to know that he was up to no good. Poncho said nothing, hoping his expression portrayed innocence. She glared and he knew he failed. “Poncho, what...” she stopped talking when she got close to the door and could hear her father’s voice. “Baby, I promise,” his dad said, “I already said I’ll tell them tonight. I’m not sure what else I can say to make you trust me.” Poncho looked at his sister, watching her eyes get wide. He grabbed her hand and she looked down at him. “I know,” he said. “You know?” she asked, “You know what?” “About the baby,” Poncho said slowly so his sister could understand. “The what?” Reyna asked. Right then, their father came out, causing all three to scream in surprise. “I wasn’t listening!” Poncho shouted, which he immediately regretted. He knew that anyone who said they weren’t listening was probably listening and he knew that his dad knew that too. But it looked like his dad didn’t hear him because his dad and Reyna were staring at each other. Well, his dad was staring, and Reyna was glaring. “Did you hear?” his dad asked Reyna. “I heard enough, I think,” Reyna responded, arms crossed, looking like she was shooting daggers at their father’s face. “Why do you want a new baby?” Poncho asked. He figured the worst was already out there so why not ask? His dad looked at him confused, “What?” “The baby,” Poncho said, feeling frustrated. Why must adults avoid the truth? “The baby,” Poncho repeated, “I heard you talking to the baby.” “Yea, dad,” Reyna said through laughter which confused Poncho even more because he could tell his sister was upset. So why was she laughing? “Tell us about your new baby,” she continued. Their dad looked at both of them. Poncho could tell his dad was afraid and though he didn’t like it and he wanted to say or do something to break the impossibly heavy tension, he stood there and waited. “It’s...she’s...” his dad stuttered which scared Poncho even more. His dad was usually so clear, so confident. And twice in one day he’d witnessed his dad afraid, unsure, and Poncho didn’t like the way this felt. He could feel his sister growing more agitated and he reached for her arm. She jumped a little and looked down at him. She must have seen something in his face because her gaze softened, and she relaxed her shoulders just a bit. She turned back to their dad, eyes still narrowed but less angry. “Spit it out dad,” Reyna said. “I’m...seeing someone,” their dad said softly, “And I want you to meet her.” “You want us to meet the baby?” Poncho asked. “No, no, buddy. There is no baby,” his dad said, “Baby, is...it’s something adults say sometimes when they like each other.” Poncho stared. There was no baby. Like with everything, this was just another example of adults being confusing. Of not saying what they mean. So, his dad was speaking to...a woman? “Is she going to be our new mom?” Poncho asked and looked up when his sister scoffed. Reyna huffed and kept looking at their father, and Poncho couldn’t quite understand the look in her eyes. There was a lot going on there. He could see that she was angry and sad and scared and he didn’t really understand why. Wasn’t it a good thing if they were going to get a mom? “She doesn’t want that,” their dad said, “And she knows that. But...At least meet her. Give her a chance?” “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Reyna asked and Poncho noticed the change in her voice. She was looking at the floor and Poncho could see the tears forming in her eyes. “I didn’t...I was scared of how you would react,” their dad said, “I know how close you were to your mom and I...I miss her everyday, but Jocelyn. That’s her name. Jocelyn is a wonderful person. And I think you’ll see that when you meet. No one will ever replace your mother, Reyna.” Poncho looked at his sister. It was different for him. He had never met their mother. Not really. He was too little when she died. And he could only remember certain things. The way her hair fell across her right shoulder. The smell of peppermint whenever she walked into a room. But he also wasn’t sure if he actually remembered these things or if he remembered because of the stories his dad and sister would tell him. But Reyna knew their mother and loved her fiercely. And now, for the longest time it had just been the three of them and someone new would change everything. And his sister didn’t respond well to change. He had heard her say so many times. “I...I guess I can meet her,” Reyna mumbled. It wasn’t the greatest response, but it was something. It was the best response their father was going to get. Their father nodded and smiled. Smiled in a way that Poncho hadn’t seen in a long time. “Great! Great. I’ll tell her,” their dad said, “You guys will see. She’s great.” “Great,” Reyna mumbled. “Great,” Poncho chimed in, wanting to be included. The three of them stood awkwardly for a few moments. Their dad smiling. Reyna looking sullen but accepting. Poncho looking between the two of them to see who would move first. “Well...I’m gonna go in my room,” Reyna said. “Ok, yea,” their dad said nodding vigorously and then, “...I love you, mija.” Reyna stopped in front of her door and looked at their dad, “I love you too.” She rolled her eyes at her dad’s smile and walked into her room, closing the door firmly behind her. Poncho and his dad looked at each other. “Did you really think I was talking to a baby?” his dad asked. Poncho nodded. His dad laughed. Poncho walked over to where his two toy trucks lay and went back to slamming them together. “You’re going to break those, if you keep doing that,” his dad called. Poncho nodded. He knew that. He knew that the trucks would probably break, but he also knew he could put them back together. It was his gift.