Zinnah ran to her car at full speed. Her lungs burned more and more with each step on her gravel driveway. Her keys fumbled in her hands, she cursed whoever told her that having keychains would be fun and cute. She turned her head for a split second to see him: the man she knew, the man she loved, the man she was running away from. He was running at full speed towards her and with his long legs and track background, his dark silhouette was becoming closer. “Please help me to understand Zinnah, what exactly have I done to deserve this?” Archer screamed as his hands thrashed in the air. Zinnah watched his hands move in a million different directions as she climbed into her car and locked the door. Pounding threatened to break her window causing Zinnah to jump out of her skin. A snake being hunted by the mighty eagle, one false move and Zinnah would be thrashing around in the air, ready to be consumed. “I love you, Archer,” she mouthed, tasting the salty-sweet tears that she had not realized were streaming down her face. Rain poured onto the windshield in large drops creating a once soothing musical on top of Zinnah’s roof. Archer’s eyes darted to the gearshift Zinnah was reaching for and started to become frantic. He pounded harder and faster, screaming for anything that would get her to come out of the car. Zinnah simply placed her hand on the window in a symbolic gesture of forgiveness, then placed the car in reverse. Archer punched the hood of her car as she drove away. Zinnah was gone and he was raging. His fists clenched and his jaw tightened. Hurriedly he ran into his house, destroyed in a mess of rage. Plates broken on the floor, pictures of their time together smashed into the fireplace, blood splattered across the walls. Archer ripped off his shirt that was soaked red before and dyed a crimson color of agony in the rain. How could Zinnah have done this to him? He paused in front of the wall he had punched, staring at the dust-covered hole in his wall then back down at his bleeding knuckles. Then, he reached for his keys. Zinnah drove twenty miles per hour above the speed limit. The rain cautioned her balding tires to slow down but the foot on the pedal urged the car to live out its dream of joining NASCAR. Rain fell faster than Zinnah’s windshield wipers, but she did not care as she pushed faster knowing Archer would follow. Her cuts stained her shirt and seats with the red, thick blood Zinnah could not feel due to the adrenaline. Hot air rushed out her vents and tried to soothe her with a warm hug, but the cold rainwater on her clothes struck down any advances. A bloodcurdling scream escaped Zinnah’s lips followed by trembling cries she could barely hear over the sound of her own heart in her ears. Blood, anger, yelling, everything that had happened in the last hour made her nauseous. Suddenly, right as Zinnah started to contemplate pulling over so she could throw up that night’s dinner, bright lights flashing behind her caught her attention. A familiar, silver Ford Expedition was on her bumper urging her to either speed up or slow down- she could not decide. Archer waved his hand out the window pointing at the curb next to them. Zinnah only slammed harder on her gas pedal, racing the rain that was falling into Archer’s lap. Archer knew exactly where Zinnah was going. She was racing to her brother’s house faster than she should in the pouring rain. Thunder made itself aware overhead the two cars. Zinnah, scared of thunderstorms, let out a yelp Archer could see by the fast movement in her shoulders. The stop sign ahead cautioned neither one of the drivers; both decided they had seen too much red that night. “Zinnah you coward! Stop driving!” Archer yelled with a flick of his brights. He saw her eyes look back for a split second in her rearview mirror before she cried. A whimpered, pathetic scream, she screamed back in between sobs, “I will never stop for you again!” Archer could not make out the words over the pounding of water droplets on his windows and roof. Each droplet reminded him of her. How he had caused her so much pain, so much suffering in the end. Her light smile contorted into a sickening cry for help from the kitchen. Her box-dyed hair mixed with her own blood. Her once perfect skin open to reveal the muscle and tendons underneath. A hideous display of rage splayed across his floor offering only a feeling of numb desperation. Longing to hear her laugh, need to watch her eyes light up again, a want to feel her mouth against his under a clear, starry sky. A tear fell onto his cheek but was soon wiped away into nothing and mixed with the cold and seemingly endless reminders of what he had. Stinging his skin through the open window with a new memory. The rain may as well have been a thick and stinging acid because perhaps it would have hurt less. But the car trudged along in the neutral rain pushing against any impulsivity Archer was feeling. The rain rushed Zinnah; however, whispering in her ear to drive faster. Every small thud against her windshield was a challenge to drive ever so slightly more reckless. She was not crying anymore. She was laughing. The bruise on her face ached with laughter as she thought about what had happened. The blind rage she experienced. The memory of a punch stung her face as she passed her brother’s house and drifted past a sharp turn. She had driven these roads too many times to count and now was when she could show her expertise. Her hands danced around the wheel with muscle memory while Archer fumbled behind, slamming on the brakes so he didn’t spin out. A ballet of movement from her fingers as she took another right. A symphony of audience cheers as she masterfully wound around a left turn. Asher’s car was no longer in sight and a sigh of relief escaped her lips, but a moment too soon. Asher had not grown up in this neighborhood but he knew the roads to the bridge. Zinnah’s favorite spot was the gazebo by the river, which was calm in the daytime. He sped through a straightaway alerting a neighbor who had come outside to listen to the calming sound of rainfall. He saw headlights edging closer to the turn they were about glide gracefully around and his brake slammed against the floor. Skidding on the slick road, Zinnah’s car did not stop. Compared to a skilled drift racer or an experienced getaway driver, she was smoking both of them. Archer pounded his wheel knowing his car was begging for mercy. He was drenched with rain and exhausted from the mess he would have to explain to the police. But, he could not let Zinnah escape this. She was the reason his knuckles were bleeding. She was the reason his clothes were permanently etched with splatter marks. She was the reason his stomach would grow nauseous at the sight of broken glass. But on she sped, into the darkness towards her happy place. The bridge that had carried her through more sad days and anxious periods than she could count. The sound of the river had a calming effect on her nerves. It was a happy movie on a sad night. It was a restful nap after a long day at work. It had kept her alive. Now, it was going to take it. The rain rushed down at an alarming speed onto the two cars. The river seethed with excitement as every drop hit its waters; the wind guided it along in a mass of cold, frenzied water. A roller coaster of emotion rushed through Zinnah as she stopped her car on that bridge. She had just enough time to rush to the edge and pause. The dark water below invited her in like a distant friend she had not seen in years. The adrenaline coursing through the river weaved around rocks and tree branches, jumping into the air with exhilaration. Zinnah saw in the black water a yellow light getting increasingly larger and knew she was running out of time, but her arms stayed locked around the wet railing. “Don’t do it! Don’t you dare Zinnah!” Asher yelled through the pouring rain. The cold rain pouring a thick layer of wet onto his skin shocked him alive. He wiped his eyes, salt mixing in with the water dripping from his hair, and slammed his door. She was just standing on the railing. He tried to walk slow so she wouldn’t jump, but the rain performed as a wedge between her and the rail she was clinging onto. Her arm slipped and caused her to lose her footing. She grabbed tightly onto the metal, bruising her arms and making the cut on her side gush with warmth. Her vision went blurry and she decided it would be easier to let go. A laugh sounded like a bell through clenched teeth as she loosened her grip. Red, chipping paint clung to her wet skin as she started to fall slowly into the roaring water beneath her. An arm wrapped around her clumsily. Her eyes went wide with anger when she realized the river was not becoming closer to her. Thrashing around, like a snake caught by an eagle, she screamed for release. A thrown punch locked with something above her, but the arm did not give. “Let me go, Asher! Let me go!” she screamed in a hoarse, broken, degraded voice. A sob pushed more tears out of her eyes and into the disappointed river beneath her. Her back scraped against the side of the bridge in a painful reminder she was still alive. The falling rain formed a tight hold around her neck and constricted her breathing. Her clothes clung to her uncomfortably making her feel even more suffocated. “Let me go!” she punched. A loosening of Asher’s grip let her run toward the light, but the hold on her legs pulled her back into the dark void. He pinned her down on the dirty ground, his face red with frustration. The cold rain causing Zinnah to shiver was only evaporating off of him with the angry heat he was producing. “Why Zinnah, why!” he screamed. His face thrashed forward with every word so fast she did not even notice the crushing pain in her legs and thighs where he was keeping her rooted on the floor of the bridge. She whimpered in fear and exhaustion. Blood was overflowing from her side where the stab wound was, a stainless steel Kitchenaid knife flashed through her mind. “Zinnah why,” Asher cried. He deflated on top of her, weakening his defense to let out a cry. With one tear came another and suddenly grief overcame him and dulled his senses. Zinnah smiled. With a strong kick, he was on the ground next to her toying with the edge of the bridge. He reached for the rail but was too late. A kick to his stomach threw him off of his risky perch and his hand grabbed nothing but cold raindrops. The river below him cheered in excitement as it swallowed his warm body whole. His scream dulled in the frigid water and swam away with him into the night. Zinnah smiled. Why? Why had she left his apartment in such a rush, driving through the cold, rainy night to this death trap of a river? Why was she covered in bruises and slowly bleeding out of her side? Well, that was a stupid question. He was there. He had seen it all. He had seen her walk in on him cheating on her with the blonde girl from his work. He had watched her parade around the house destroying everything in sight that she thought would make a satisfying shatter sound. He watched her pull the homewrecker into the kitchen by her hair. He watched her push a knife to her stomach, leaving her face morphed into a state of constant fear and regret. Months, they had been “dating” for months is what he told her in a blind rage. But seconds is what Zinnah had killed her in. She had fought back with a loose knife Asher had been using the cut carrots but was no match for the raw emotion-filled strength coursing through Zinnah’s every fiber at that moment. Now, she had killed him too. Two years wasted away in minutes. A look of relief flew across her eyes and she smiled as she thought about the mess she had left for the police to clean up later. For now, she stood in the rain letting it hush the sound of her maniacal laughter.


My name is Joshua Wang and if you are reading this, it means that you have decided to use your remaining time on Earth to read one of the many blogs about Tyler Kaufman instead of panicking about how Earth as we know it is about to split into a million pieces by an asteroid. I read about Tyler Kaufman on The Straits Times on August the 6th. A young boy having been revived by new experimental equipment after falling from a twelve storey building, claiming to have seen the afterlife. He described it as being like a mirror of our world. He woke up on the sidewalk as if he just had a good night's sleep, right below his HDB Block, no blood stains or anything. He wandered around what he had quoted as "Heaven itself". Many "people" there had stared at him before resuming their usual activities. As he took a bus back "home", he was met with his already deceased grandfather and several other strangers in his house. Not only that, the house looked normal, but in reality it was almost infinite, with infinite similar rooms and an infinite variety of people. They looked healthy and normal, but they said they had all splattered on the concrete floor from falling to death. All residents of the house, from all the way back when the buildings were built without extra safety measures to when Tyler had found out he had just failed all his subjects for the PSLE test. A few months after his attempt, his mother claimed to have signed him up for a special experimental treatment to "bring him back". Just like that, Tyler was snatched back to the about-to-get blown-up-world for one last chance to say goodbye to his parents. A few weeks before this news had taken everyone by surprise, another piece of news had caught everyone by surprise; NASA revealed that Earth was about to be blown into a billion bits in around 13 months. People didn't know what to do then, I mean, they weren't going to kill themselves. Protestors flooded government areas to demand for answers and the truth. Most, if not all, had thought that the government caused it. I mean, no one expected the world to end in the next billion years and now an asteroid just appears out of nowhere. However, the Kaufman Case came out as HUGE news for the panicking world. It came as hope for everyone, but what everyone had used that hope to do was something entirely different... The Day Kaufman Came Back (Day One): I came home from work that day to find my wife reading about the Kaufman Case. Her laptop was full of tabs of news articles and social media posts. She was so excited no adjective would suit her. Well, of course that isn't important. After all, you didn't come here to for tips on describing someone's excitement. As I read more and more about Tyler Kaufman that day, I also became more and more excited. This could be the turning point for everybody to relax. At the dinner table, we had been using our phones to research more about it as well. As I scrolled through news sites while unconsciously shoving rice in my mouth, my wife said something that made me choke. "Have I ever told you that my dad died from lung cancer before we even met?" "No?" "I really miss him". I left the dinner table before even finishing half of my food, we didn't talk for the rest of the night. As I lay on our bed, I started to have more and more questions to the issue; How specific does one have to die to be with someone else who died the same way? Would purposely killing yourself be the same as unintentionally killing yourself? Would the same items be required to finish the job? What if Kaufman was lying? Why would a kid lie? Would a kid lie to everyone for attention? For hope? Endless amounts of questions had flooded my mind. They invaded my nightmare, where I came home to find my wife sitting on a pile of cigarettes. The nightmare was then suddenly interrupted by my phone notification, my boss had messaged me to go around the Sengkang neighbourhood to interview residents about their thoughts. Day Two: I got out of bed early without waking up. Apparently my wife had got up earlier than I had. She was not in the house, and neither was her purse. On the way to work, the front bus window had been cracked, a few blood stains could still be seen. The driver had caught me looking, and smiled. "Some guy ran in front of the bus yesterday, but obviously at the speed this tank here was going, it merely gave him a concussion and a scar. The Bus repairmen sure did a shitty job if you ask me, haha!" The silence that ensued got louder and louder, more awkward by the second, and so without thinking I asked if it was frequent for people to run in front of vehicles once the news had broke out about the supposed afterlife. "Yeah... uhm... I heard from multiple other bus drivers yesterday of people just ramming themselves into cars and what not. Sometimes I chuckle thinking about what the doctors are doing. Do they save the life of someone, preventing them to be with their loved ones? Yeah, Dark I know..." I went to multiple pedestrians to find any new pieces of information to put up on the news site that hasn't already been said. People joyfully going on about joining their loved ones in what is presumably heaven. People ranting about how life should not be thrown away. People talking about how the whole thing was a scheme done by religious fanatics. "I hope I get cancer so that I can be with my boyfriend again..." "It's a shame my mom died by old age, I can't really do anything about that, hope they design some kind of old age thingmajig before next year" "We have a year to live and people are treating it like it's nothing! My siblings are talking about killing themselves and it makes me sick!" "No one even knows if Tyler was even revived from the afterlife. There's probably some scientific evidence to suggest why he had those visions but for some reason people just believed one random kid. Many other people had supposedly seen the afterlife before and no one gave them a crap. He may just be an attention seeker who wants to atleast have some glory before he goes out, before we all go out." I recorded all of it down, all the opinions opinions opinions. It is sometimes believed that people created religion to hope that there is something in the afterlife that isn't just darkness... I thus similarly believe that people trust Tyler Kaufman in this desperate siruation everyone is in. He simultaneously gave many hope, but he also has the potential to simultaneously destroy many people's beliefs. I went home that day to find the house completely dark. My wife was on the bed... my heart almost sank. I quickly ran towards her pale body and almost screamed to find that she was not responding when I shook her. Her bright eyes opened suddenly in the darkness, I almost cried tears of relief. "Honey... how was work?" Day Three: I could not sleep again that night. My brain had been a question factory for the whole time I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. After a while, I had gotten up and paced around my bedroom for the remaining hours of darkness. To solve the question of how should I die would require the solution of who should I join. My father, my mother, my favourite teacher that could teach me all sorts of things in the afterlife, even if I could probably learn everything in eternal afterlife anyways, if afterlife was eternal. I thought about all the events of my life and the people I have met. I thought about whether you could even reproduce in the afterlife. I thought about how old you would be in the afterlife and whether your age would increase. It would really suck to live eternity as a child or a sickly old man. Could you even get sick in the afterlife? The more I thought about it, the more the bullshit meter at the back of my head had gone up. I soon realised that these questions and thoughts were ruining me. They would ruin me before the asteroid would. So I called my boss and told him that I quit the job, foolishly thinking that this would give me some peace before judgement day. Since my wife was not in the house again and I was not about to spend the remaining year of my life playing games on my computer at home, I went out on an adventure. Or at least as adventurous as you can get in Singapore. The bus stop was completely empty except for a guy with a red tee holding something I couldn't make out. "Hey, mister, don't stand near the road!" I looked behind and saw a teenager and a bunch of other people way back from the bus stop. I awkwardly walked to join them. "You wouldn't want to get hit by a car would you? Unless your like that guy, in which case, sorry to bother you". I looked back at the man with the red tee and at another angle, I saw that it was a picture frame. As the bus came closer and closer to the station, the man's breath grew stronger and stronger, he wore his tears and snot like make up. He ran up to the middle of the road and let out a scream, the bus driver must have known what was happening, because he drove right into the man at top speed, causing his body to fly around ten meters from where it had originally been. A few bystanders let out a "oooh". The teen had looked at me and said. "Imagine if that guy had caused the bus to flip, causing everyone in it to die. Selfish asshole." Well... Let's just say my appetite for adventure had been lost fairly quickly, as I ran back home straight away. Back at home, I saw my wife laying on the sofa crying like an 8 year old girl. I was about to ask why when suddenly I recieved the notification that would change everything for the third time. It was an artixle with the headlines saying "Tyler Kaufman and his family revealed to be christians". Slightly confused, I asked, "Is this what you're crying about?" My wife looked up at me with a grimace, " Yes, Joshua! Do you know what this means? What this means for us? What this means for the whole freaking world? It's all bullshit! This whole afterlife shit! It's all a god damn publicity stunt!" As I read the article while moving towards our bedroom, I started to get dizzy. Tyler Kaufman, during an interview, has revealed that he and his family were christians. This had made the reportee himself extremely shocked. However, Tyler and his family has claimed that this fact doesn't change anything. I took a sigh of relief. Well, I guess it makes sense. After all, you can't enter Christianity's heaven if you killed yourself but that's exactly what Tyler did. I was just about to ask my wife if she even read the full coverage when I saw a leaflet under her pillow. On it it said: "Looking for participants to test out a super cigarrette that would speed up cancer". Shocked and furious, I took the leaflet and held it up right at her face. "What?! What were you planning to do?!" A look of shock and regret had flashed through her face with a long silence of her trying to think of what to say. "I miss him Joshua! I saw it on my way to work, oh God Joshua, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" "So what were they going to do, watch you as you poison yourself to death? What if it didn't work? You just ditched me here! Ditched me in this messed up world!" It was clear that she had nothing to say, so I told her to get out of the house. No, I threatened her to get out of the house or I would kill her myself. Was I so selfish to be angry at my wife, my supposed closest companion, to suddenly have that crooked idea? Before I could even decide on what to do next, I collapsed onto the sofa and fell asleep. Day Four: I woke up with a major headache, but atleast for once I had some sleep. I don't know for how long, but I had stared at the blank television screen for hours. On the pitch black screen of the televison I saw Joyce. She wanted so desperately to be with her father. Her mother had died shortly after she was born and her best friend had been her father. Maybe I was selfish after all to try to take that away from her. To shame her for having her own deepest desires. I looked out the window in hopes of seeing her nearby and atleast not dead. Instead, I saw a small girl walking towards the road. Crap. I thought. I rushed out of the house and saw that a blue mercedes was cruising at top speed towards her. Again, I thought about that man who had flown across the road and possibly to Heaven as well. If I let that girl suffer the same fate, I would never forgive myself. I jumped towards the girl to push her away. Instead of feeling a sense of pride for saving the life of an innocent. I felt a sharp pain and saw only darkness. Day Eleven: I woke up where I still am now, a hospital bed. My wife was beside me, and she had a look of joy and relief when she saw that I had awoke. The doctors excitedly explained to me that I had been revived just like Kaufman. They explained to me that there was a public outrage after Kaufman had revealed his family were christians and so the doctors were forced to try to recreate the same scenario. I was the first person to be successfully revived. When they asked me what I saw, I replied that I forgot. I told them I saw darkness and now I woke up here and that there may be something in between those two moments but that it is now lost because I forgot. Slightly disappointed and fustrated, the doctors encouraged me to try to remember it and get some rest before leaving the room. My wife tried her best to hug me in my current state. She talked about how she had almost wanted to jump in front of a car after finding out what had happened to me, but she just couldn't do it in the end. We made a promise to forever to stay together in this new world till the end. This world that has become a cruel place to live in. If there is no hope to be found in the remaining year of human life, people would start to do whatever they feel like doing without a care in the world to make up for the years they will lose. You may be wondering whether I told the doctors the truth about what I saw, if I really forgot. Well... it's either that or there actually is no Heaven, I will never know. I think that's for the best.


I am going to have a long and nice shower. I will have a smoke first. I really like to roll my own cigarettes. I make them very thin and pleasurable to smoke. Although they are shorter, I feel like I enjoy them for the exact perfect amount of minutes. Normally I like to roll from the right side. I dont know if that is unsual, its just the way I learned. I smoke for 6 minutes. Its almost like doing meditation breathing exercises. Maybe that is where the addiction comes from. It was already Tuesday. I know that because I woke up with a little bit of anxiety. How can something good bring me anxiety? Well, I know. All the good things bring me anxiety because I am afraid of losing them. The anxiety is the fear. The fear of being excited and something ruining it. Something will go wrong - I think to myself. And with my partner, to be fair, it has. Its almost a self fulfilling prophecy. Why wouldnt I be afraid? For the good or the bad, something is never right. Anyway... Its Tuesday so its movie night. I've already picked the movie. This time there is no dinner before. Just lazy popcorn and some cuddles. Its always so good! Well, not always always. Sometimes something does go wrong. Or something is not enterily right. One of both options. We always agree on the movie we are going to watch. Mainly because Ollie accepts all my recommendations. Sometimes I wonder if Ollie is really watching the movie. Sometimes I know a good scene is about to come and I decide to look at Ollie with the corner of my eye. I wonder if their reaction will be similiar to mine. Normally its quite neutral. I dont really mind. Ollie likes to listen a lot. I love to talk. My mother used to say to always be with someone who is a good listener. She used to say that I should also chose someone that loves me more than I love that person. I dont believe in that anymore. I know that loving someone so deeply can be very painful. But choosing someone you dont love that much, is also very daunting. Ollie is usually late, so although we scheduled for 8pm, I know I will have to distract myself until 8.30 at least. Its okay, Ollie is not type of person to carry a watch. Ollie is not very aware of time and space. I like that. I truly do. At 7.30 my anxiety will get worse. Maybe I should go for a long and nice shower only at that time. I still have 2 hours to wait. Wait for the shower time. Then, wait for Ollie. Its a lot of waiting in my brain. Ollie doesnt think about waiting. Ollie is not waiting for me. That mind is always too distracted, or, actually, too focused, to ever wait. Its a funny thing. "I think of you all the time", I wonder if I should believe. I had a tofu salad for lunch. Or breakfast, actually. I guess I learned that with Ollie. I dont really have a routine with meals anymore. There is no "breakfast food" or "dinner food". I can eat anything at any time. Cereals for dinner or a vegan roast for breakfast. Its funny this about time. Its supposed to be a measure. Like how much do we weight. Its a measure of how much life do we have. Or how much life we do not have. The measurement is quite psychological. What if someone died on their 30s? Oh no, what a tragedy. They had so little time! But if I am here waiting for 3 hours for Ollie to come, isnt it that a tragedy as well? So time is just a measure like any other. It shouldn't be taken that seriously. What if we lived in a world where people didnt need to schedule an hour to appear? Exactly like what I do with my breakfast. My breakfast is when I feel like having a breakfast. So: what if Ollie only appears when he feels like it? We could schedule a day. But not a time. Tuesday is the day. What time? Whenever you want. There is no such thing as time anymore. Perhaps my anxiety would not exist. Why would I know that I would be more anxious at 7.30? I wouldnt even know that Ollie is late. There is no such thing as being late. I dont wait for Ollie because he asked me to wait. I do it to myself. I do it because time exists. "I think of you all the time" he says. Well at least I wouldnt have to decide if that statement is true or not. Because time doesnt exist here. Instead it would be: "I think about you". In that I could believe. "all the time" seems a bit too much. Although, I do that. Because time still exists. And because I am here waiting. Im going to tell Ollie that I had a salad for lunch. I know he loves to eat salads. I think he is going to be happy with that. What did he had for lunch? I am going to have a shower now. Probably Ollie didn't eat a salad today. If we had lunch together I would've made him a salad because I know he likes it. I would've said that I have a surprise for him. Just for fun. My mother used to do that a lot. Whenever she said she had a surprise I could almost guess what it was. I would always pretend and be surprised anyway, but 99% of the times I already knew what it was. So maybe salad should be my surprise to Ollie. I can make a salad now for him. I think he would like that. Or maybe its stupid. We are going to have popcorn. I hope he is in a good mood today. I will receive him with a smile and a kiss and wait for his reaction. Normally he kisses me back. Sometimes he hugs me. I love the hugs. I dont tell him that because I dont want to lose the hugs. I hope today is a hug day. Im going to say that I had a busy day. I had to work a lot and take care of other errands. I cannot tell him that I was waiting for him. No, no. I will tell him that I had to do something so important that I didnt even notice that he was late. Actually I cannot say that. If I say that it will mean that I noticed that he was late. Because actually, Ollie is the one that doesn't notice it. He wouldn't know that he arrived later. I already know that. Im guessing he will be here around 8.30. Maybe 8.45 just to ease my mind. He will stop whatever he is doing around 8, which is the time he is meant to be here. Then he will go for a smoke. His cigarettes are different than mine. Ollie was the one who taught me how to roll. His cigarettes are bigger and they take longer to smoke. I've counted and its 10 to 12 minutes. So after he goes for his meditation breathing exercise for 10 to 12 minutes, he will start is journey at around 8.15. Already 15min late. But its okay. I dont mind. I already know. I already prepared my mind for it. At 8.20 I will casually message him saying something like: let me know when you are on your way! In truethness, all I want to know is if my predictions are correct. If they are not, then it will not be 8.45. It will be 9. So I have 40 more minutes to wait. If Ollie replies "ok" it means that he is still not on is way here. I can distract myself by starting to make the popcorn for us. Oh but I love the way he does the popcorn. Should I wait? My mind was already so far away. Silly me. Its still 5pm. I am going for that shower now.


I've lived in the same house pretty much all my life. We moved when I was five and, now at eighteen, I still live here with my parents. Since we've been living here for so long, some things just go wrong and sometimes with no explanation. On one morning, my mom went to take a shower and noticed the water wouldn't get hot. And she absolutely cannot take cold showers. She asked my dad if he could fix it and he didn't find anything wrong. Like I said, sometimes things break with no explanation. My dad looked up a guy online and asked him to fix it. We had never heard of this guy, but he had good reviews and we were kind of desperate. The guy came, took one look at it and asked my dad for money to buy an expensive thing to fix it. He said a bunch of technical therms I won't bother to look up, the point was that he needed more money. My parents paid him. He said he would fix it in two days. On the first day, he didn't come. My dad called him, he said he was busy and would fix it tomorrow. Tomorrow arrives and he doesn't show up. Again, my dad called him and got the same answer. One week went by and we just stopped hearing from him entirely. My parents called their lawyer and, as of today 03/29/2020, we're still trying to sue him. He gave us a fake adress so we wouldn't find him. But this story has somewhat of a good ending. You see, my dad loves poker. He tried to teach it to me several times so we could play together (I'm more of a Rummy type of gal). When he's feeling down, he goes to his local poker club and just plays until he either lost all his buy in money (usually 50 bucks, nothing too big) or is too tired. And he's good. Really good. After this whole thing was over and we thought we would never see the guy ever again, my dad went to the poker club. And, because God tries to be funny once in a while, he ran into the same fucker that scammed us. The guy even had the audacity to tell my dad he would stop by our house the next day and fix our damn heater. My dad told me that he thinks his anger turned him into an even better player than before. Remember when I mentioned that the buy in was only 50 bucks? Well, the scammer went all in and my dad got all his chips. He went all in again after the rebuy and lost another round to my dad. This continued to happen for the rest of the night. My dad went in with 50 bucks and got out with more than a thousand, all from the guy who scammed us. Now, I understand this story is hard to believe. But my dad swears it's true. His poker buddies confirmed to me that it happened, just not as quickly as my dad made it seem. The game started at seven pm and my dad only left the table at three in the morning. But, even after hearing this story several times over the last year, I still don't know how to play.


As the constant drip burrowed itself further into his mind, Andrew had only one thought: I’m gonna die here. He had every reason to believe that. He had watched enough of those crime shows his mom liked to know that hostages hardly ever had a happy ending, regardless of if the ransom was paid or not. More likely than not, he would be found in a ditch somewhere, or worse, by some drunk dude who had to piss in a park. The park stuck out to Andrew. That’s where he had been taken. His mom would be pissed when she found out, she made him promise not to take that shortcut. This was the first year he was allowed to walk home alone (his parents were really overprotective), and he found that he got home at 4:15. That was a problem, because Spongebob started at 4 (if you ever told anyone he still watched it, he would deny it), but he had promised his mom that he wouldn’t take the shortcut, so he ended up only watching half of the episode. The day he was taken was different though. It was a special episode, one where Patchy the Pirate would be part of the adventure. He couldn’t miss that! So, he figured that just this once it would be fine to take the shortcut. It’s not like anything bad would happen, he was 12 years old and invincible! That had been 2 weeks ago. Since then he’s been stuck in this tiny room, which was just about twice as long as him and about that wide too. There has been nothing for him to do. No books, no tv, no music, not even any action figures (which, very importantly, are not toys). The only things he’s had to help pass the time are his ‘meals’--if you call plain mashed potatoes in the evening and plain porridge in the morning meals--that were shoved through the slot at the bottom of the door and the constant dripping coming from his bathroom hole in the corner. He’d already made beats off it, counted to 1000 with the drips, and sarcastically said “drip, drip, drip, drip...” along with the now obnoxious sound. It was this dripping he was listening to when he drifted off to sleep. -------------------------- It was some time later, he had no way of knowing how long when he was woken up by the sound of a girl screaming... no, not screaming, yelling. “Get your fucking hands off me you creep! Let me go! I swear to god if you don’t get your hands off me I’ll fucking kill you you dumb fuck!” Andrew wasn’t allowed to use those words, he tried once and his mom grounded him for three whole weeks, but he knew how the girl felt. The shouting was right outside the door now. “I know Ju-Jitsu and I’ll break every bone in your body before I choke you and don’t let go!” Well that sounded fake. The door opened and for the first time in weeks, Andrew saw another person. Two of them, actually. One girl, around his age, many a bit older, and a big man wearing a ski mask and black hoodie. The man threw the girl to the floor and quickly shut the door. “Get the fuck back here you asshole,” he girl was already back on her feet, pounding on the door. “Fight me like a man rather than sneaking up behind me like a fucking coward!” “Don’t bother, it’s not going to work,” Andrew said from his bed. The girl must not have noticed him because she jumped at the sound of his voice and turned towards him ready to fight. “Who the hell are you? Why are you here? You better stay over there and answer my question-- hold on...” she got right in his face, “you’re the kid from Highlands! Andrew, wasn’t it?” “How do you know me?” “Kid you’re famous! Anderson Cooper even took time off yelling at the president to talk about your case!” “My case?” Andrew asked. “Yeah your case! You’ve been gone for like a month,” Andrew realized that they weren’t breakfast and dinner, but daily meals, “you’re family has been going nuts, they’ve organized like 20 search parties, they’ve knocked on every door in town, they’ve been on every news network, hell I don’t think they’ve slept!” “They... they’re actually looking for me?” “Oh come on Andy, is it ok if I call you Andy? Might as well get used to it, that’s your name now. But come on! Of course they’re looking for you! Why wouldn’t they be?” “I dunno...” “Exactly! So what have you been working on? What’s your plan?” “What do you mean?” “What’s our way out? You’ve been down here long enough, you must have thought of at least a rough plan!” Andrew looked at the ground. He hadn’t thought of anything. He figured that there was no point, his kidnapper was going to become his murderer soon enough, plus he was in a tiny room with one steel door and no windows, how was he supposed to get out? “Come on Andy don’t tell me you never thought of anything. What about that hole over there? The one with the smell... that’s shit. That’s your shit hole. This is an actual shit hole cell,” The girl started laughing. “But can’t you get out through that?” “I don’t think so... I’ve never seen the... poop go down. Just slowly higher and higher.” “Well... fuck! Ok how do you get food? Does Meatloaf out there bring it in?” “No... he slides it under the door. I’ve never seen him until he brought you in, even when I was taken. I was walking through the park, I felt a needle in my arm, and then I woke up here.” “Jesus Christ Andy stop being so defeated! What else is there in here?” “You can see it all. I’ve got a bed and a bathroom hole--” “Shit hole, Andy. From now on it’s called a shit hole. Gotta take my laughs where I can get them.” “Okay... but that’s it. That’s all that’s here.” “What are you wearing?” “What?” “God dammit Andy we probably don’t have a bunch of time!” “Jeans and a tee-shirt! That’s it!” “Jeans...” the girl said contemplatively, rubbing the wall. “By any chance, are those jeans too big for you?” “A bit, but I wear a belt so I don’t have plumbers crack!” “That’s perfect Andy! Are you wearing your belt now?” “Yeah...” “Then we can escape! Andy, I’m a genius!” “Okay...” “Give me your belt,” the girl said, holding out her hand. “Hurry!” Andrew reluctantly took off his belt. He had joked about girls asking him for this before with his friends, but this wasn’t what he had pictured. “What’s your name?” Andrew asked hesitantly. “What does it matter? Hurry up and give me your belt!” “No name, no belt.” “You’re fucking impossible! Fine, my names Andrea. Happy now? Give me your damn belt!” Andrew passed her the piece of cloth from around his waist. She greedily grabbed it from him and smiled looking at the metal clasp at the end. “We’re getting out of here! Today! I know we are, Andy!” “Sure we are, Andrea... you keep believing that. Maybe it’ll help you when you’re lying dead in a ditch.” “If you’re not going to help, just sit over there and shut the fuck up.” Andrew went to the bed, still tired from his interrupted nap. He sat propped against the wall, crossed his arms across his chest, clenched his fists, and tried to shut out the new scraping sound coming from beside the door. -------------------------------- “Andy! Come on Andy, I’m almost through! Come help!” Andrew opened his eyes and stretched, making the mental note to not sleep with his arms crossed ever again. His arms and hands were more stiff than they ever had been in his life. “Hurry! I need you over here!” He groggily made his way to the side of the room where Andrea had been scraping. On his way there, he saw the discarded remains of the belt he had gotten for his birthday. Mom would be mad... if he ever saw her again. Looking up to the hole where Andrea had been working, that possibility seemed more realistic. “Holy crap Andrea!” “Yeah I’m awesome, I know, now help me with this!” “What do you need?” “This part is thin, but I cant break it on my own. It’ll take both of us. Come on. We’ll start about... here,” she walked halfway across the room, “and get a running start. You're right-handed, yeah? Ok than lead with your left shoulder. This will probably hurt it and we might need to do some other stuff so it'll be good to have your right arm ready.” “I’m not sure--” “Oh shut up and quit being a pussy! Come on, count of three.” Andrew didn’t know what “being a pussy” was, but he didn’t think it was a good thing. He got ready with Andrea. “Three!” she shouted immediately. They both ran full speed into the wall, making sure to lead with the left shoulder. Andrew felt a crunch and his arm went numb. “God damn motherfucker holy shit what the everloving fuck that hurt!” Andrea shouted from beside him. Good to know she was okay. Andrew looked toward the wall and felt butterflies. It was small, but there was a hole. “We did it Andy! We’re free!” The hole was just wide enough for Andrew to fit through, and he was scared that Andrea might not fit. “You go first.” “Aww look at that, chivalry isn’t dead. Alright I guess I’m up.” Andrea started toward the hole and put her head through, but got stuck at her shoulders. “Fuck... Okay Andy you have to go. Go alone and get the cops. Remember where we are. Bring the cops back here.” “Andrea I can’t!” “Come on Andy, I need you to do this. It’s okay, just make sure you get out and bring the cops back here. I’ll be fine. But you’ve gotta go quick.” Andrew fought back tears and threw the arm he could still move around Andrea. “Alright kid, you gotta go. Be safe. Grab a piece of cement in case you see that big fuck again, bash his head in for me.” Andrew nodded and made his way to the hole. It was tight and caused him to nearly cry because of his shoulder, but he made it. Grabbing a piece of cement, he looked around to gather his bearings. The only thing he saw in this new, bigger square room was a staircase. He quietly made his way up, pausing at the top to see if he could hear the man in black. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he entered the area at the top of the stairs and realized that he was in a house. A nice house. To his left, he saw it. The door. He saw the houses across the street and started running. Pulling the door open, he started yelling. “Help! Help! Call the police! This man kidnapped us! Help!” ------------------------------ The cops didn’t find Andrea. The man in black, James, said he had only ever kidnapped Andrew. It turns out he had made ransom demands, and when his parents met them, he had made new ones. Andrew had been right, he was just going to see how far he could push the parents before they couldn’t meet his demands and then he was going to kill the kid. But he had only ever taken the one kid. He was adamant about that. He confessed to everything else and plead guilty. The judge sentenced him to seventeen years in prison. The police and psychologists said that, because he had been alone for so long, Andrew had probably hallucinated Andrea. It’s a common occurrence. But Andrew knew that they were wrong. He looked toward his desk in his room and saw another sticky note: Clean your damn room, Andy. It’s disgusting. The shit hole smelled better.


I shouldn’t be doing this... “I think I want to go with them...” Bertramus choked on the words as he said it. The acrid smoke from his father-in-law’s mahogany pipe scratched its way into Bertramus’ nostrils and clawed at his throat. He kept his gaze at the half-eaten plate in front of him, but he could still feel Gisella’s icy gaze from across the table. The crackling fire in the hearth behind her did nothing to warm his wife’s stare. Her father spoke first. “No. You don’t.” Puffs of smoke billowed out after every word. “You will stay here. Be responsible. And do the right thing for your family.” He thrust the wet end of the pipe at Bertramus. “You’ll stay and keep my daughter happy and our bellies full.” Bertramus didn’t have a response. His father-in-law was right, it was his duty to stay. But this was his dream, his legacy that eagerly awaited him. The opportunity would not last long, and his friends would go with or without him. Could Bertramus really stand by and watch them live out grand adventures when he just tended his father-in-law’s shop? But could he really leave his wife, and her family? His family. Bertramus couldn’t imagine doing either. So he sat there. Saying nothing. The fire crackled and hissed in the dark silence. “I thought you were happy.” His wife’s voice cut through the fog. He still tried to avoid looking into her eyes, one glimpse at her tears and he knew he would buckle. “I am happy. Very happy. But...” he wrung his fingers underneath the table, fraying the edges of his overcoat. More seconds passed, with nothing but a mouse-ish sniffle from his wife. Bertramus tried to clear his throat. “It’s not forever. Only five years. At the most.” “Five years is too long. Even one year is too long!” His Father-in-Law said. “Who will run our books? Who will look after my daughter, your wife , when I die?” The embers in his pipe glowed a fierce orange. “Papa, you’re not dying,” Gisella said, forcefully. Her father gave a humph and took a long drag of smoke. His eyes strangled Bertramus with every tendril he exhaled. Gisella turned back to Bertramus. “Why do you want to abandon us? We’ll go under, you know that don’t you? We can’t keep up with the orders you’ve put in place. We don’t know the procedures, we don’t know the manufacturers. Last time you were sick for only a week, and we lost two dozen clients!” “Enico can handle the books, I’ve been showing him how for the last few months. And I’ve already let our clients know that he will be a temporary replacement for me. And if things get too bad, I can just come back.” “You’ll be half an empire away, you won’t be able to come back in any timely manner. And what if you don’t come back at all! You’re always sick doing this ‘easy life,’ as you call it! The journey just to get to the valley would kill you. I couldn’t stand it.” Gisella turned her face away, hiding a small tear. Bertramus reached across the table to try to grab her delicate hand. “Come with me then.” He shouldn’t have said it. He knew it before the words had left his mouth, but the dam had broken, or at least cracked. There was no going back now, he resolved. His wife stared at him in shock, pulling her hand away. Gisella’s father slapped the oaken table. “See, I told you. He wants me gone. Just leave me to die alone huh? Why not just kill me right here, you coward.” His father-in-law threw a gravy soaked knife clattering across the table at him. Bertramus loved his father-in-law, and the thought of him dying alone was torturous. “You know we can’t leave him, Bertramus.” Gisella gripped her fathers thick leathery arm. “Papa, we’re not leaving you, that would be madness.” “Tell him that then! Dream’s aint worth shit, boy, if you got no one around to share them with! When my wife died, gods rest her soul, I would have killed myself if not for Gisella. Your wife, I remind you again! And now you want to just spit on us and abandon us!” His face was menacing with the stark firelight casting shadows across every weathered crease. “Calm down Papa, you’ll go into a fit.” She patted his arm. “He’s not going to leave us.” “You are my father, you know what you’re saying isn’t the truth, you know I have love for you.” Bertramus finally looked up and matched his wife’s gaze. “And you know I love you . But I can’t just sit around and wonder what-if. I want a legacy.” “You have a legacy! The business is thriving!” His father-in-law said, throwing his hands up. “With all due respect, sir, this is your legacy. They know your name, they know your business. You built it, I’m only maintaining it.” Bertramus saw the rage etch deeper into his father-in-law’s face, and put his hands up instinctively. “I am forever indebted to you for allowing me to run your business, and to marry your daughter. But can’t you understand me wanting to make my own mark?” His wife's eyes glistened, her tears slowly drowning his dreams of the valley and the school he would help build there. She took his hand. “But you would be here.” Her hands were warm and comforting, wrapped around his own. “With me, with us. How could you need anything else?” # I shouldn’t have come, he thought, six months too late. The road to the valley was long and arduous. He had written to his wife almost every day, explaining that the road was hard but that he was excited to show her all the things he had seen. He hadn’t received any letters back. The couriers had told him that when they delivered his letters, they had to leave it in the shop’s post box; there was never an answer at the door. He would keep writing though, keep sending bundles of letters and crude ink drawings with each courier that came. Though they came more and more infrequently as the caravan trudged deeper into the wilds. It was the only thing keeping him sane on this cursed journey. Bertramus flipped through a small journal; thoughts he didn’t want to share with his wife, or anyone else for that matter. ‘Tonight two of our pack mules were killed and utterly torn apart by beasts so horrible I struggle to describe...’ ‘Yesterday half the company had nearly died from dehydration, expelling almost every possible liquid from their body after eating some foraged berries found along the mountainside. One of our younger stewards perished.’ ‘This morning Morajim and Audemar had gotten into a fight and Audemar threatened to leave, cursing the entire venture and yearning for his city life. I felt for him. If he leaves, I believe I might go with him.’ On and on the troubles went, with each day bringing new and terrible challenges. He thought this group of adventurers and explorers he traveled with were supposed to be some of the best in the empire. However, from either poor planning, embellished credentials, or just rotten luck, it was certainly more difficult than anyone had imagined it would be. Bertramus sighed heavily and readjusted himself on the splintered wooden wagon seat. The one comfort he had. He pulled out a fresh piece of thick parchment and dipped a battered quill into an inkwell. “To my dearest love.. Today Morajim and I discussed supply chains and some investor promises. There is so much potential for us to succeed. The wildlife here is stunning...” The quill hovered over the parchment, dripping dots across the page as the wagon bumped along. There didn’t seem to be much else to say. He folded the letter and stashed it back in his leather folio. Bertramus sighed, looking across the yawning sea of golden razor grass stretching out in front of them. The scouts slashed at it with machetes and thick leather armguards. ‘Even the grass is dangerous’, he muttered to himself. “All our nights are spent in great company, and spirits are high. People are very excited to get to the valley. We have only a few more weeks to go. There are so many interesting people traveling with us, some at the top of their fields, some fields I didn’t even know existed. We’re to pass into a forest tomorrow that should lead us to the mountains. I hope the birds there are as colorful as people have promised.” “We are a week out from the valley, the forest was dark and deep but it slowly turned to a pine forest that reminded me of your grandmother’s house we used to visit. The snow tipped mountain range stands tall over our shoulders as we follow it until we hit the pass. I’ve attached some pictures an artist who is traveling with the expedition has sketched for me. This is beautiful country. I hope I can show it to you one day.” Bertramus picked at a large blister on his foot with the tip of his quill. Yellow pus oozed out of it mixing with the black ink, and he cursed dabbing at it with a stained rag. He looked up through the pines at the hulking shadow of the mountain, always looming over them. He sighed, this sight would be watching over him for the next few years. Hopefully it will feel more like home after they have the initial fort built. He continued with another letter. His body ached as he wrote about his improved constitution. His fingers screamed in pain as he tried to keep his lettering neat and tidy after hours upon hours of holding ropes and chopping wood. His once soft hands used to only carry the calluses from writing with a quill for hours on end. Now they were cracked and covered in blisters and grime. He didn’t even recognize them. The dark grit underneath his fingernails smiled at his misery. He couldn’t find the will to smile back. A call came from down the expedition line that they were finishing their break. He hefted up the now tattered leather pack and strained under its weight. What he wouldn’t give to be able to ride on one of the carts again; his cart had been lost during a river crossing. What he wouldn’t give to have his wife massage his hands as she once did. What he wouldn’t give for her to rub his bleeding and tired feet. What he wouldn’t give to be in his bed, with his wife, at his home. Yet the road stretched on.


My luck had finally run out. Somehow I’ve avoided this misfortune for the two years that I have worked here. That doesn’t mean I haven’t heard the stories. The feeling of being watched. The ominous shadow figure. The mysterious doctor. And to top off working the night shift in a hospital, today just so happens to be Thursday 12th October. That means that when the clock strikes midnight it will be Friday 13th. Great. Pulling up to Hope Gardens Hospital, the heavens opened painting everything in its path a gloomy grey. Turning the engine off, I lean my head on the steering wheel, trying with all my might to be ready for the night shift. Sighing, I shrug on my coat before running for cover inside the hospital. The rain also painted my mood in the same gloomy grey as outside. Trudging up the stairs to Ward 21, the only sound echoing around me is the squeaking of my trainers. I just have time to hang up my coat before the clock strikes 8 signaling the start of my shift. The next three hours go smoothly. Or as smooth as they can go when you are a nurse. Sick. Check. Blood pressures. Check. Intravenous fluids and medications. Check and check. Finally, I am able to sit down at the nurses' station. My only companions are the flickering lights down the hallway, the beeping of heart monitors, and the shadow standing behind me. I whip my head around to see just the plain stone blue wall. No shadow. I shrug as I start filling out the paperwork, unable to shake the feeling that I am being watched. The clock strikes 11. The rain continues to lash at the windows, it too has found a companion. Lightning. It slashes across the darkened sky and the thunder rumbles in the distance. But the storm is coming closer. Soon it will be right above the hospital. When I was a child, I was scared of thunderstorms until my Granny taught me that if I counted the time it takes to hear the thunder after the lightning, that's how far away the storm is. I know it's a trick to keep your mind focussed on a task instead of the anxiety but I couldn’t help but count the seconds between the flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder. Especially now that the flashes of lightning caused shadows to flicker in and out of view in the corner of my eye. The flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder were now so close together that I could not count the seconds between them. A lone lightning strike hits the hospital, plunging it into darkness and turning the hospital quiet. All I could hear was my heart thumping against my chest. Unbeknown to me, the clock strikes 12. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention as a shiver runs down my spine. A singular word breathed in my ear. “Beware” I turn around expecting to see an older gentleman standing there, after all, that would explain the raspy voice. Darkness. Empty darkness. There was no one or nothing to be seen. That is until a flash of lightning illuminates the hallway. Looming over me is the ominous shadow figure. Just as quick as the room is lit, it is plunged back into darkness. I scramble out of the chair, knocking it to the floor as I scurry backward until my back hits the wall. I keep my eyes focussed in front of me until the hospital flickers back to life. The clock strikes 1. The next two hours sail by just as smoothly as the first hours of my shift. Checking that the machines have come back online with the ominous shadow figure lurking in every corner where the light doesn’t quite reach. I return to the nurses' desk to continue filling out the paperwork and updating patients' notes. The clock strikes 3. The witching hour is upon us. I look up from the computer screen to see an old male doctor impatiently tapping his foot. “Nurse I need to see patient 1-5-D-B-7” His gravelly, demanding voice scratched against my ears. Quickly, I begin looking through the patient's ID and ward floor plan. The ominous dark shadow figure inching its way closer to me doesn’t go unnoticed as I find the patient that the doctor is looking for. “Ah, you mean Mrs. Deborah Jenkins in room 21B. I didn’t think a doctor needed to check her medication until 6am” “Well what do you know, you are just a nurse” The doctor looks behind me and I know he’s seen the shadow figure that is now looming right behind me. With meaningful steps, the doctor turns around and walks towards room 21B. I feel a wave of relief wash over me as the shadow figure follows the doctor down the hall. The clock strikes 4. Code blue alarms ring out from 21B alerting all nurses and doctors that there is an adult cardiac arrest. Jumping out of the chair I run down the hallway, my trainers squeaking on the newly cleaned floors. Just as I reach the door, it slams shut in my face. Colliding harshly with the door, I am knocked to the floor. Pushing on the door I find it to be locked. “Open the door” I shout as I pound my fists on the door, continuously trying to get the door to budge. The door swings open catching me by surprise as the floor catches me. I look up to see the shadow figure standing there. For some reason, I blurt out a thank you before scrambling once more to my feet to try and resuscitate Mrs. Jenkins. Within a matter of seconds, the room is a hive of activity of doctors and nurses trying to bring Mrs. Jenkins back to life. But all attempts fail as a doctor declares Mrs. Jenkins dead at 4:50am. I slump to the floor defeated, my head in my hands. The clock strikes 5. Tears sting my eyes as Dr. Bailey crouched down in front of me, softly placing his hand over mine. I meet his sympathetic eyes. “Where did the other doctor go?” I ask, my voice almost breaking. I assumed that he must have slipped out of the room during the commotion of trying to resuscitate Mrs. Jenkins. But Dr. Bailey raises a singular eyebrow at my question. “What doctor?” “The one that was in here before the code blue” “Sophie, I'm the only doctor that is working on this ward tonight” I stare at him like I am a fish out of water trying desperately to breathe. “We have all had a long night go have a break Sophie” he suggests before standing up and leaving me alone with my thoughts. And the shadow figure, watching over me. Eventually standing up, the pain of pins and needles in my legs reminded me that I was still alive. The shadow figure, no longer lurking behind me, walked next to me as I headed to the staff room. Staring into a glass of water I zone out until a singular word is breathed in my ear once more. “Protect” The clock strikes 6. The end of my shift. Sighing, I placed the glass down before wrapping myself up in my coat. My trainers squeaked as I trudged down the stairs and out of the hospital into the cold morning rain. Just as I reach my car, the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention as I suddenly feel like I am being watched. Turning around I see the shadow figure standing at the window. I smile knowing that the shadow figure is not only protecting the patients in the ward but also me.


“I see your order information,” said the woman on the phone. “Not to worry, the two bridesmaid dresses were successfully returned this morning. The wedding dress is still on its way and should arrive by the end of the week. We’ll give you a call when it gets here.” My head tilted slightly; did I miss something? Why were my sisters’ dresses returned? It made no sense. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying desperately to come off as unconcerned by the earthshattering update she had just given me. “To confirm, you said the dresses were returned today ?” “Yes, we called your bridesmaids yesterday evening to let them know the dresses had arrived and this morning the two young ladies came in and let us know they would no longer be needing them. We were able to do a refund for them, no problem.” I was stunned. I could feel my heart drop to my stomach. I knew my wedding was hard on my family given our dysfunctional dynamic, but I had not expected something like this to happen. “Is there something else I can help with today?” the woman asked cheerfully. “No,” I said quickly. “Thank you so much for the update. I look forward to getting my dress soon. Thank you.” I hung up the call and sat frozen at my dining room table where my wedding plans lay sprawled out before me - vendor business cards, bride magazines, spreadsheets on my laptop, sample fabrics, and of course my cute little coiled planner book specially purchased to document every moment of my happy journey to the altar. Except this news didn’t feel very good. Ever since my parents’ divorce, my life had been constantly surrounded by family drama. It snuffed the life out of everything. As the eldest daughter, I often found myself stepping into the mothering role to subsidize my sisters’ needs whenever I could, even though I was only a few years older than them myself. It was mostly a one-way relationship with them and over time they had developed the expectation that my purpose was to serve and protect them all the while I was left out to fend for myself. I didn’t mind, most of the time, I loved my sisters and was happy to provide for them some of the comfort and support I so desperately craved. But as a result, it was mostly a lonely life growing up, which is why when Art, my fiancé, stepped into my life and later proposed I was ecstatic. Finally, I had someone in my life who saw and loved me for who I was rather than what I could do for them. When Art placed that ring around my finger and asked me to marry him, I felt the healing and transformational power of love wash over me like magic. We had already been living together for some time, but I had the feeling that my life was going to change, I was going to change. Art and his marriage proposal made me want to be better, to discard that tired persona of good and obedient daughter in favor of my strong and authentic self. I knew he valued me, admired the person I was and believed in who I could become. His honest love helped me believe in myself too. Sometimes you need someone in your corner to fully bloom into yourself and live up to your God-given potential. I had thought my sisters were in my corner too. Thought they were happy for me, glad to part of my wedding but this news about their returned dresses was very concerning. Had I been naïve to believe they would support me during this important time of my life? I didn’t want to run to Art with this issue just yet, I felt ashamed and wanted to find out what was going on with them first. A bad feeling sat in the pit of my stomach as I texted them both in a group message. To: Meli, Emily Did you return the bridesmaid dresses? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s going on? I waited. My heart beating hard. No answer. Art, who had been playing video games in our bedroom, came out to check on my progress. He knew I was calling the dress shop for an update. “What did they say?” he asked. “Any good news?” It had been 20 minutes since I had texted my sisters and even though the message indicated it had been read, I still didn’t have a response from them. “Is everything ok?” he asked noticing my worried expression. I started to cry. *** Days later they still hadn’t replied. “No, they never answered my message, never called me back, nothing,” I told my dad over a tearful call. “They just ghosted me.” “But what happened?” my dad asked. “Why did they return their dresses?” “I have no idea,” I said. “I keep trying to figure it out, but nothing makes sense.” “Maybe your mother put them up to this, you know she hates that you still talk to me.” “I don’t know, that’d be pretty low even for her.” “I haven’t talked to either of them,” dad said. “So, I don’t know what’s going on with them. I mean, you know how it is with me; ever since the divorce your sisters hardly speak to me.” “I know dad. Things are always difficult with our family but truthfully, I don’t want you to get involved. I know your relationship with my sisters is hard enough as it is, I wouldn’t want this to make things worse between you and them.” Even though I had no answers from them, I suspected the real reason my sisters had betrayed me was because they were jealous. Jealous they weren’t the stars of the event, that all eyes wouldn’t be on them for the night. Jealous that they didn’t have serious boyfriends of their own, a relationship with a partner where they were taken seriously. Jealous that I, who had been like a mother to them, wouldn’t be at their beck and call anymore. I was sad for them, for what they had done, for what they would miss. Sad for me, for the deep wound of sisterly betrayal, for the permanent scar their actions would leave on my heart. I cried for days. It was a hard truth to face, to know that I couldn’t count on my sisters to be there for me on one of the most important days of my life, to know that they couldn’t be happy for me. Finally, my wedding day came and when I slipped into my dress in full hair and makeup, my transformation was complete. I had been right to believe that Art’s marriage proposal was going to change my life, that this event was going to help me become a stronger and more authentic self. I saw it on my face in the mirror and felt it in my beating heart. I knew what really mattered on this day and all the ones to come. Life wasn’t about all the people who hadn’t been there or all the things you didn’t have. It was about counting your blessings in spite of it all and rejoicing in the present with the ones you love. The moment arrived, the time to walk down the aisle. I stood confidently with my arm around my father’s arm, the coordinator fluffing the dress around my feet. “Ready?” she asked. I nodded and the doors leading to the wedding bower swung open. I saw all the happy faces of friends and family looking back at me with Art waiting at the end of the aisle that was lined with blue candle cacti and pink bougainvillea pedals sprinkled along the way. The harpist began to play the “Wedding March” and I commenced the procession toward Art. I knew life was full of ups and downs with surprises around every corner and I was thankful to have Art in my life, a man I could go through it all with. He was the man I loved and was happy to be marrying. I knew it was going to be a good life together.


'No.' I couldn't have thought of a better word to say. 1,200 words a middle class child is exposed to. I probably knew about as many curse words at that point, none quite equal to the weight of anger I willingly held onto. It was so impossibly simple. Just claim the consonant and the vowel. Be done with it. Pack up and go home. 'No.' The more frustrated I became the more powerful the world felt in my mouth. Why couldn't I just say it? Was I too proud? The entire reason I was in this position was because I didn't say anything. I look down at the cloth in my hand. Damp and dishevelled, I should go into the back and get a fresh one to mess. Or maybe i'll wait until no one is at the counter. There it is again, that fucking word. Why is it when you've been backed into a corner the worst decision is always made? Maybe this time it'll be different. I hook a stray hair behind my ear. Deep breaths. 'So you can close up tonight?' This is it. Just do it. A pulse. An echo. A single beat. This could be the turning point of your very life. 'Yeah, no worries.' Fuck.


Lilly needed more medicine, in fact a better medicine that could save her dying mother, no twelve-year-old girl should watch cancer slowly take a woman from this earth. Many doctors from England and America had tried their best to save Ceilia’s life but time was running out and Lilly had to find another way. Most nights she’d pray for help. Kissing her sleeping mother goodbye, Lilly stepped out of their house and into a cold morning in London, the sky was as blue as her eyes and the sun shone its golden hue upon her face. One particular ray of light seemed to flicker like a beacon, beckoning her to follow its path. She paced forward, oblivious to everything else, she continued towards the ray of sunlight. Just before her foot stepped into the beam, she stopped and glanced all around her. There was nobody in sight, and she continued onwards, allowing the ray of light to swathe her entire body. And then. Like a magician saying hocus pocus. Lilly was gone. * For a split second Lilly was in complete darkness and utter silence, like she was floating in space. And then, she felt the familiar hardness of land beneath her feet in the form of cobbled pathing stones. This place didn’t look like earth. That was soon confirmed when she looked to the crimson sky and saw a violet sun and the clouds were orange too. In the distance beyond the purple haze, tall obelisks lined the horizon, and beyond those were even taller buildings like skyscrapers that she’d always wanted to visit in New York. Following the narrow cobbled pathway, she came upon a large courtyard where alien-looking Pedlars and Hawkers offered wares and goods to busy-bodies that were nothing like humankind. “Welcome... welcome I’m so glad you came,” said a thing, that was tall with long Langley legs and purple rubbery skin that had a face resembling a blobfish with eyes like coal. “Welcome to the galactic marketplace, I am Vweltar." “Where is this place and why am I here?” Asked Lilly. “You are here my dear because you have chosen to come. Welcome to the planet Belgorr. There is a lot of business to discuss, please follow me.” "No I must return home, my mother needs medication. Please... please send me home, I have to save her. I have come here by mistake." "All in good time my dear, but first please follow me." * Lilly followed Vweltar into the hall of the caucus, where a concourse of aliens was seated at a round table. The room fell silent as this earthly looking being approached the table. “My delegates please welcome Lilly from the planet earth,” announced Vweltar. A cacophony of chirps and crackles and squeals resembling the alien’s language made sense to Lilly, thanks to the universal translator that Vweltar had placed around her neck. They were all intrigued by her beauty and were asking if she was for sale. Vweltar intercepted their debates and stringently informed his delegates that no sale was taking place today. “Please tell me why I’m here?” Exclaimed Lilly. Vweltar jumped back in astonishment at the ferocious sound that had blasted towards him. And the aliens muted themselves as their gazes fixed on the little girl. A tall alien stood from his chair, his skin was satin black with the appearance of looking wet, his teeth were jagged like alabaster stalactites, and his fiery red eyes were compelling as Lilly couldn’t help but listen. “I am Zukar and you are among the Belgorrians of Belgorr. We have been watching your planet for quite some time and we must do a trade deal with the people of your planet.” “But what has this got to do with me?” Asked Lilly. “Vweltar I insist that you show me how to get home I must find a way to help my mum.” “Well that is why you are here Lilly,” replied Zukar. “It’s just not your mother you have to save, the entire existence of the human race depends on you.” * Lilly glanced at her wristwatch, according to it, she'd been gone for less than ten minutes. But it'd felt like a whole day, the purple sun had set just moments ago, yet, when she'd arrived it hadn't long risen. Was she a prisoner here? A slave to the Belgorrians. What could these monstrous creatures from outer space, want from earth? Vweltar took hold of her hand and led her off, she dug her heels in and further demanded answers. They fell silent as they watched a screaming girl get dragged away. "Where are you taking me?" Exclaimed Lilly, flailing her legs. "We are preparing you for the marketplace, where you'll participate in the galactic trade." "I don't want to, I have to go home." "That's precisely what you have to do," began Vweltar. "Return home to then arrive back here on Belgorr with something to trade, but make it good. Or, the Belgorrians will feast upon the inhabitants of your world." “Are you saying they’ll eat all the human beings?” “Yes.” “That means they’re gonna eat my mum and my brother! My entire family and friends!” “Lilly, follow the cobbled path in which you came and, when you get to the shimmering pool of light -- step into it and you’ll be home. But don’t forget to return in two days,” said Vweltar. * Humans was on the dinner menu, knowone of this world would believe her that humans was sought of as a delicacy -- a cuisine that couldn’t be untried, unless, she suddenly thought, a better dish of delight and flavour could sate the Belgorrians appetite. Were they just carnivores or just herbivores or a bit of both? she cussed herself for not asking. But what she did do was take a wild guess that they were raw flesh eaters and had never tried cooked meat with seasonings and spices. “They would like a stew with all the trimmings and flavourings possible,” Lilly said aloud, as she walked home. She’d made stew before, at school in her cooking lesson. The recipe was somewhere in her bedroom but, the one vital ingredient she didn’t have, only her grandmother knew how to make dumplings that was worth putting in a stew. Lilly jumped on her ten-speed and peddled as fast as her legs would go, bound for her grandmother’s home, she cussed at the slow-moving traffic as she weaved in and out of the cars and got blasted at by the horns of angry drivers. That didn’t phase her, she continued, if these drivers knew what was at stake, they’d thank her. Grandma was not home. “Where are you?” she frantically said, searching for the recipe book. Nothing in the kitchen draws, she moved on to the living room, nothing there either. Next she tried the dining room, no luck there either. She sprung over to the ottoman and pulled the lid up to a mass of books and sheets of paper, somewhere in that pile had to be the saviour of mankind. * On Lilly’s arrival back, Vweltar was eagerly waiting but disappointment became evident as she’d returned empty handed. She raised a reassuring hand to Vweltar’s countenance and then glanced over her shoulder. Appearing from out of the shimmering pool were cows -- a dozen of them, all pulling carts, loaded with vegetables. “In the name of Belgorria, what an earth is all this?” Expressed Vweltar. “I noticed at the galactic marketplace there is never any food to trade with the punters, well... in this instance, the aliens. So I’m gonna knock-up a feast that I hope will be to Zukar and the Belgorrians liking,” said Lilly. "I had to do a lot of groveling to the farmers to let me have all this for free." “You think that sustenance will be worth trading?” “When they see how good it is, they’ll learn that they don’t have to travel the universe eradicating all forms of life from planet to planet. "What are these creatures?" "They're cows." * All through the painstaking process of preparing the ingredients, Lilly's mind was still back on earth. What if her mother awakened and called her to find she wasn't there, what was she to do? But at least the nurse would be there to comfort her. With the help from some aliens known as the Ghelaks -- no doubt in Lilly's mind they were as savage as the Belgorrians -- they'd come close to devouring the cow and the other eleven that grazed in the field, but Lilly had kept them in order. "Vweltar, why are there so many different alien species residing on this planet?" Asked Lilly, inquisitively. "I thought you would have guessed by now. Belgorr is a trading outpost, it's the biggest marketplace in the universe. And you are now the fifth species to join." "I haven't joined anything Vweltar, I've been lured here against my will." "I was put in the same predicament when I was lured here. Zukar treats my people like fodder, we only breed now for that reason," said Vweltar. "I tried to make a trade but he declined." "What was your trade offer?" “Bloodvime, it’s the liquid that surrounds the land and flows through the tribituries, just like the oceans and rivers on your planet.” “That sounds disgusting, what would Zukar want with that?” “My planet is a living creature, it can replenish its bloodvime, it even has healing properties. But it turned out to be poisonous to them." * The contents within the large cauldron was simmering nicely, the pleasant smell that wafted from it began to draw a crowd around Lilly’s stall. “Come and try my space cuisine stew,” Lilly called. Sellers and buyers alike crowded around her cauldron, and watched as Lilly, stirred the beef chunks and the vegetables and dumplings. A Ghalek arrived and offered a trade for some stew. "What have you to trade with sir?" Asked Lilly. "I hear your mother is not well, a sip of this bloodvime will banish the evil that resides within her." Lilly grab the largest bowl she had and served the Ghalek a double portion, and took the canteen of bloodvime in exchange. "Before any trade can take place, I must try this space cuisine of yours, " said Zukar. Lilly proffered the steaming hot bowl to Zukar and to his delight from the pleasant aroma that filled his nostrils, he poured the lot down in one gulp. And then, like a train's chimney, he belched copious amounts of steam. "This is good, really good," said Zukar, nodding his head. "The people of your earth are no longer worth fodder to us. You must keep us in supply of your space cuisine. You can now make the trade." "Thank you Zukar. I have to return home first with the bloodvime, so my mother can be well again." "Well of course," he replied. * "Lilly, where are you taking me, I've only just got my strength back?" "I'm so glad you're alive and well mother, we have some cooking to do. And I think you won't mind where we have to go." "Where are we going?" "I won't spoil it but, it's a place you would've thought never existed."


Mud flew into the air. Puddles splashed the bushes on the side of the path. The horse’s breath poured out of its mouth in puffs of steam, and in the saddle a worried father looked down at his son, bundled in blankets and still shivering. They were riding deep into the woods. The stormy clouds obscured the moon, and Edward could hardly see the path in the lamplight, but there was little time. He could not slow down. Through the dead trees, the flickering lights of a house began to appear. Edward rode straight up to the door, dismounted, and rapped on it violently. The cottage occupant took his time answering. Cracking it open slightly, a single eye, full of spite, glared through. “Who’s there?” the eye asked. The voice sounded like snapping wood, and Edward winced at the sound. “My name is Edward, from the village of Haddonshire.” Edward then steeled himself and continued, “I have come to you for aid. My son is sick, and his fever grows ever stronger. Tell me your price, and I shall pay it, so long as my son may return home safe.” The door swung open, with the sound of the crudely crafted hinges creaking and popping. Inside stood a ghoulish man, with dirty gray hair. He was short, but his arms were long. “Come in. Let’s take a look at the boy,” and the apothecary ushered Edward to enter. “Put him on the table there.” Edward laid his son, Jacob, gently on the table, then looked around the cottage. Much of it was a mess. The furniture was crooked, and it seemed that the only things in proper order were the shelves of ingredients. Everything on those shelves was neatly stacked and made visible the familiar herbs and berries often used by the villagers, along with the dark and abhorrent ingredients for which this apothecary had been exiled. “Heh heh heh...” The apothecary chuckled to himself as he inspected the boy. It was not long before he grinned, showing crooked teeth, stained likely by some of his wretched elixirs. “The boy can be healed. Quite easily too. There will be no need even for any of those ingredients which your silly neighbors cast me out for.” Edward was relieved. He had feared the ingredients as well, but was more intent on saving his son’s life, but he knew the ways of this ghoul, and stopped him from reaching for the medicines. In a grave tone, Edward commanded, “Name your price first.” “Heh heh. Well, I suppose it’s fair to put aside your son’s life for a bargain. For you, the only one to show me any kindness during my persecution, the price is light. Due east from here is an apple tree in full bloom. Under it lives a fair skinned woman with hazelnut hair. Go to her, and request just a single strand.” Edward was slightly afraid and disgusted by the request. “What do you need with her hair?” “It is a necessary step of curing your son. Her hair pulls disease out of the body, but she does not give it out often, hence why I have none of it in stock.” With this the apothecary gestured toward an empty space on the shelf next to two bottles of snake venom. “If you tell her your plight, she is likely to give you what you need.” “Very well, we shall go to her.” Edward reached for his son, but the apothecary put his skeletal hands out. “No! Your son is likely too sick to travel. It is a wonder that he has made it this far. You must go and bring the hair here. I will treat the boy in your absence to keep his symptoms away.” Edward felt uneasy, but he also felt he must do what he could to save his son. “I will fetch the hair, but while I am gone, I do not want you giving my son medicines without me.” The apothecary swore to not treat Jacob, and Edward rode on the bearing he had been given. It was about a mile to the glade which sheltered the tree the apothecary had described. Edward dismounted and approached it. He reached out and touched the trunk, then suddenly from behind, he heard a birdsong voice say “Hello.” He turned around to a woman whose pale skin shone just slightly, providing just a little safety in the stormy night. “Hello,” he replied. “Are you the lady who lives under this tree?” “I am.” Her voice was as sweet as the apples that grew on the tree’s branches. “Why do you seek me?” “My son is sick of fever. He has not been able to eat or drink for a day, and he has grown exceedingly weak. I have been told that your hair could heal him, so I am here to ask you for just one strand.” The woman looked concerned at the request, “It is true. My hair is like the roots of my tree. It pulls what is in the body into me, and just as the tree forms the soil into an apple, I too can purify the disease in my own fruit. However, if the soil is poisoned the tree dies, and if your son is afflicted by poison, then I will die.” “I assure you; my son was struck by illness from a chilled wind. Now I plead of you, help my dying son.” Edward fell on his knees before her, and tears streamed from his eyes, mixing with the rain that continued to splash on his face. The sight of the beleaguered, desperate father moved the woman deeply, and she pitied him. “Very well,” she said, and with a slender hand she reached up and plucked a single strand of hair from her head. She presented it to Edward saying, “This is a strand of my hair, given willingly that life may be preserved. In return I ask only that it be given to your son without any other remedy. Go now, and return to your son.” Edward took the hair and wrapped it in a cloth and mounted his horse. In a rush, he raced into the woods, leaving behind the safety of the glade for the thick darkness. Again, he approached the lopsided cottage and did not even bother to knock. The apothecary looked up and immediately pounced upon Edward. “Did you get it?” Edward produced the cloth and revealed the hair. An evil desire entered the eyes of the apothecary, and he reached for the hair. Seeing the lust in his eyes, Edward held the hair away. “It was given to me in great trust, and I would not violate that trust by sharing this recklessly.” Edward stood tall so that he looked down upon the hateful figure of the apothecary, whose lust gave way to spite, but his frail form precluded him from considering attacking. “Now, have you administered any remedies to my son?” To this, the apothecary grinned. “I have given your son no remedy other than water. But hurry with the treatment. His condition has worsened considerably.” Edward looked to see his son now drenched in sweat. His veins were blackened, and he held his face in an expression of agony. Edward could not believe that the sickness of his son had taken such a drastic turn. Without thinking, Edward raced to the bedside of his son and produced the hair of the lady. He then lowered it into his son’s mouth, which closed around the hair as the lips of a thirsty man might close on a jug of water. The sickness receded, and as color returned to the boy’s face Edward withdrew the strand from his mouth. The hair was no longer hazel, but sickly and gray. On it were drops of bile and Edward dropped it in horror. The apothecary snatched it up immediately and set it on the empty shelf space next to now just one bottle of poison. “Heh heh heh. This strand has served its purpose and now I may use it for my own.” Edward prepared to object, but the spiteful mutant continued, “Oh, worry not, it is a dead strand now. It has no connection to her anymore. Besides, this was the price you agreed to pay.” Edward could do nothing but yield. Furthermore, his son began to awaken, so he decided to take Jacob back home. Grabbing his boy, he said nothing to the apothecary, for he suspected the apothecary of some form of wickedness. Instead, he departed for the apple tree to check on the health of the woman. The rain had subsided, and the sun was rising, casting the world in a gray light. It was in this dreary light that Edward saw the glade and was struck with sorrow, for the tree had withered and there sat under it a decrepit old woman. She sat hunched over, hardly breathing. By now Jacob had awoken, and asked, “Father, why are we here?” Dismounting, Edward approached the old woman and explained, “We are here to give thanks to the woman who saved your life.” He reached out and touched the old woman, who looked up, and in her eyes, he recognized the fair and noble lady. “What happened to you?” “When you were here, the apothecary must have poisoned your son, so that I could draw it into myself when you treated him.” The long night and continuous trials made Edward feel heavy and helpless. “I am sorry this has happened. The apothecary was too cunning for me.” His head sank, and he hid the tears welling up in his eyes as his son walked up beside him. “Father, is there anything you can do?” Jacob asked. The woman put her hand on her stomach. “There is nothing that can save me, but life can still be grown.” She lifted her hand to reveal a ripe and sweetly scented apple. She presented it to Jacob, “Take this apple and bake it for the apothecary. He will be suspicious of it, for he trusts nothing, so you must be sure to hide it, but when he eats it, then life will be restored to the forest.” Jacob took the apple and marveled at it. Seeing his eyes, the woman warned, “Do not eat the apple yourself, for it is not meant for you and the consequences would be grave.” “I’ll do it,” Jacob promised, and the woman smiled at him. The father and son then rode back to their home, where Jacob’s mother was overjoyed to see her son alive and well. Edward and Jacob explained to her the task, and she instructed Edward to slice up the apple while Jacob placed it carefully in half of a pie crust she had prepared, filling the other half with apples from the family’s stock. When the pie had finished, Jacob set off for the apothecary’s hut. When he arrived, he greeted the apothecary saying, “Hello sir. Last night you saved my life, and I wanted to say thank you.” Jacob then held out the pie. There was a lull as the evil man eyed it, for he was suspicious, just as the lady had predicted. After a moment, his face turned to a smile. “Heh heh. I am most humbled little one, but please, I get so few visitors. Will you join me in eating this delightful pie?” The two went inside and as the cunning villain fetched some plates, Jacob cut two slices from the half which was baked without the special apple. Passing one to the apothecary, Jacob prepared to eat his slice when the conniving voice said, “Oh, if you do not mind, that slice looks to me more appetizing. Would it be in your kind heart to offer it here?” Jacob obliged, and the plates were exchanged. Then Jacob did not hesitate to eat. The Apothecary felt satisfied and joined him. The pie was exquisite, and soon both wanted more, so Jacob cut two more slices, but this time from the side with the gifted apple. Again, the apothecary tested Jacob with switching the pieces, but when Jacob was again so willing to exchange them, the Apothecary did not watch to see if Jacob would eat first and took a bite. Immediately, he lurched over and hissed, “What have you done to me?” He jerked his head up and glared at Jacob, who jumped immediately for the door. The apothecary lunged after him, screaming. The two stumbled outside, one after the other. Jacob tripped on the path and fell. Turning over he saw the Apothecary shamble forward, coughing, reaching out, and changing. He took a step, and his foot sank into the ground up to his ankle. Another step sank his other foot as well. Crying and coughing, he reached out, his already lanky arms growing even longer. His skin hardened as Jacob looked on in horror, and soon the desiccated old man was transformed into a verdant young apple tree. Shocked, Jacob rose to his feet and stared at the tree. He then jumped when from behind the tree, a lovely girl of his own age appeared. “Hello” she said, giving a slight curtsy. “H-Hello,” Jacob stuttered. He looked back and forth between the girl and the tree, not sure which demanded more attention. “What happened?” “As life was given to you, life was given to me, and as this devil cursed my mother, she has cursed him too, and all wrongs have been brought into balance.” The girl spoke bluntly, showing little interest in the man stuck in the tree. Instead, she gazed intently at Jacob. Seeing his fear, her face turned to worry. “Do you suppose that by such desperate remedies for two lives gained, that two lives lost is worth the cost?” Jacob hesitated to answer. All he could do was nod. The girl smiled. “Thank you,” she said. To this Jacob smiled, bowed, and replied, “You’re welcome.” He took her hand and kissed it lightly, then walked home to share what had happened.