Caution: mention of torture and cruelty. How would you react if introduced to a potential roommate or flat mate who promptly told you lots of negative things about himself? Top marks for honesty, but no one would choose to live with someone who is rebellious and will not do as he is asked, who whinges and whines when things don’t go his way and even wants to die when a situation gets unpleasant, who is more concerned about how he appears to others than wanting to help the unpopular. The reply would not be welcoming. It would be a suggestion to live elsewhere. Long ago, such a man lived. His name was Jonah, and God asked him to do a difficult job. He had to journey to a faraway city and deliver an unpopular message. Jonah knew God had opened a path through the Red Sea to help his people escape from the Egyptians. And let the waters fall back over their enemies to drown every last one. He knew that God had made the walls of Jericho fall down to enable easy capture of the city’s inhabitants. God told him, “Get up, go to Nineveh, the great city, and proclaim judgment against her, for their wickedness has come to my attention.” Despite knowing his God could back and protect him through every facet of his journey, Jonah disobeyed God. He went as far away as he could. Jonah ran away, heading to Tarshish, most likely in Spain - far in the opposite direction. He had no intention of carrying out what he had been asked to do for whatever reason. He first walked to Joppa, the port, to catch a ship heading to Tarshish. He may have had good reasons for not obeying, but it all amounted to a lack of faith. This did not mean God had asked the wrong person to do the job. It showed that Jonah had a lot to learn. And learn it, he did - eventually. He may have initially reflected on the cruelty of the Assyrians who populated Nineveh. The Assyrians’ treatment of prisoners was as unmerciful as can be imagined. Flayed alive, having hooks through the nose or lips and being dragged away, having heads, hands, noses, and ears chopped off. They were a military nation that loved inflicting pain and terror. Many chose to surrender rather than fight them. We don’t know why Jonah ran away, but any of the above facts could have swayed him. He found a ship heading to Tarshish and paid his fare. Soon, a violent storm flared up out of nowhere. The men prayed to their gods and threw excess articles overboard to lighten the vessel. The others on the boat were appalled as Jonah continued sleeping. He was harshly instructed to pray to his god. The men cast lots to determine who may be responsible for the catastrophe. They identified Jonah as the one. “Who is to blame for this calamity? . . .What is your work, and where do you come from? . . .” Jonah said in reply, “I am a Hebrew and I fear the God of the heavens, the one who made the sea and the land.” “What have you done?” they asked. He confessed that he was running away. Then, he showed his bravery. None of this wanting to drag down all the other men into a watery grave with him. “Lift me up and throw me into the sea, and the sea will calm down for you. For I know that this violent storm has come upon you because of me.” They called out to his God and said, “. . .please, may we not perish because of this man?” The men tried desperately to turn the ship back to dry land, but when this failed, they had no other recourse but to listen to Jonah’s instruction to throw him overboard. This action led to the raging sea being still. Calm or not, Jonah now faced drowning. Down he went, down and down, getting caught up in seaweed, running out of air, and fighting not to swallow water. His lungs felt like they would burst. He thought about his God and how foolish he had been to try to run away. The specter of death hung over him as he saw flashbacks of his life. Help came in the form of a submarine, albeit a primitive one. A colossal fish swallowed him. This would likely be a killer, humpback, or sperm whale. If it was a sperm whale, it would have been stifling inside. In a 5th April article (source: www.deccan chronicle.com), a story about another instance of this gives food for thought to the skeptics. “A Spanish fisherman who drowned in the sea is back with a fascinating story. The man who disappeared for several days after he went overboard during a bad storm has returned to share his survival tale. The 56-year-old fisherman Luigi Marquez claims that a whale swallowed him. According to Marquez, he stayed there for three days and nights. When Marquez didn’t return home, the coastal guard tried to find him but failed to locate him, and he was considered dead. ‘This great beast swallowed me the morning after the storm,’ he told local reporters. ‘It is the most frightening thing I have ever lived. Everything was pitch black and I was shivering cold. The only thing that kept me alive were the raw fish I ate and the light from my waterproof watch, that is how I kept in touch with time. And the smell, I will never forget that horrible stench of putrid decomposition. I had to wash for three days before the odor went away,’ Luigi Marquez told reporters. He may have felt he had no hope after three days. The story of the Spanish man helps us visualize the horrors Jonah went through. Three days would have seemed like an eternity. Another article on July 11th, 2021, told of a Massachusetts man, Micael Packard, who was grabbed into the mouth of a humpback whale before being taken to the surface and spat out. We can read Jonah’s heartfelt prayer, which reveals a humbled man who did not blame God for his wretched situation. Thankfully, not a moment too late, the fish vomited Jonah onto land. What was Jonah’s response when told a second time? “Get up, go to Nineveh the great city, and proclaim to her the message I tell you.” This time, he obeyed. Jonah had learned his lesson. It is always best to obey instructions the first time. It took three days for him to walk there. Three days during which he screwed up his courage to make the daily proclamation. Once there, he may have been ridiculed. Undoubtedly, he prayed fervently that the message would not antagonize the people. “In just 40 days more, Nineveh will be overthrown.” As each day counted down, Jonah could hardly wait until his ordeal ended. He focused on getting his task completed. However, his words had a remarkable and unanticipated effect on the people. Their consciences pricked them. These people worshiped false gods and led decadent and violent lives. Amazingly, they believed the message and behaved like any self-respecting heathens would - who are faced with annihilation. They repented and showed their sorrow by dressing in scratchy sackcloth and scooping ashes over themselves, men, women, children, and animals. People used sackcloth and ashes to show personal grief and signify repentance and humility before God. The King also humbled himself and ordered a fast. No food or water was to be consumed by man or beast, nobles or the poor. Their reasoning may have been, “Who knows? God may reconsider what he intends to do . . . so that we may not perish.” God saw their genuine change of heart represented by the sackcloth and ashes--and it caused Him to extend mercy and not bring about their destruction. How did Jonah feel? He did not think that it was a ‘job well done.’ He concluded the destruction of the whole city could better reflect this. Doom had been proclaimed. And doom it must be. He went outside the city a distance and sat watching to see what would happen. Nothing changed. He fumed and pouted. Muttered and growled. “Was this not my concern when I was in my own land. That is why I tried to flee to Tarshish in the first place for I knew you are a compassionate and merciful God, slow to anger and abundant in loyal love . . . Now, please take away my life, for it is better for me to die. . .” Jonah felt the mission had been a total waste of time and dwelled on suicide. He had no appreciation for being saved from the belly of the fish. This was tantamount to thumbing his nose at the mercy he had been shown. It filled him with anger that such guilty people had been pardoned. God felt Jonah needed an additional lesson. Jonah almost expired as he sat in the hot sun. He had constructed a shelter to screen himself, which barely helped. It shaded him a little but was far from adequate. God still showed him mercy. A bottle gourd plant sprouted next to him. Overnight, its twisty tendrils spiraled upward. First, it was tiny, but the growth gained momentum as the hours passed. Large leaves unfurled, and the shelter became a shady haven. Jonah awakened in surprise, wondering why his closed eyes didn’t have rays of sunlight shining on them. Looking upwards, everything appeared green. A verdant canopy had covered his primitive shelter. He beamed with joy. Even the fact that Ninevah still stood didn’t dampen his mood. All day, he sat sheltered from the scorching sun. God now caused the lesson, that he felt Jonah needed to learn, to unfold. At the break of dawn the following day, someone else discovered the bottle gourd. It became a banquet for a worm. It feasted on the juicy bottle gourd trunk. The sun came out, and a sweltering east wind blew hard, and slowly, each shriveled, dry leaf vanished. Jonah was left with the remains of his original shelter. Having the miraculous life-saving plant disappear before his eyes filled him with rage. He tossed and turned on the hard ground all night. As time passed, he started feeling faint. “I just want to die. Let me die,” Jonah begged. God spoke to him. “You felt sorry for the bottle-gourd plant which you did not work for, nor did you make it grow. It grew in one night and perished in one night . . . Should I not also feel sorry for Ninevah, the great city in which there are more than 120,000 men . . . as well as their animals?” Jonah learned from this object lesson. He ventured into the city, and the people recognized him. They gathered around to thank him. He felt overwhelmed. It humbled him to see so many people who didn’t even know his God show gratitude for the mercy extended to them. Later, he penned a personal account of what had happened. The fact that he wrote of his disobedience and disgusting attitude showed he had learned the value of showing mercy, just as he had also been shown. What about us? Do we shy away from helping our fellow man? Next time you feel inclined to think only of yourself, spare a thought for Jonah. The man who ran away.


Alexander closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his stomach doing somersaults, nervous and excited at the same time. He heard the loudspeaker across the courtyard switch on. A booming voice came from it. “Launch in thirty seconds.” Alexander checked if his seat belt was securely fastened for the third time since he got in the spaceship. He gripped the armrests at his sides, trying to calm himself down. The astronaut took deep breaths, he had been waiting for so long to go to space. Ever since he was a kid, his dream was to be an astronaut and go to space. When he applied to NASA, his dream finally came true, after twenty five years of waiting. “Five seconds til launch.” The voice said into the loudspeaker again. Alexander took a steadying breath. “Four.” “Three.” “Two.” This is it, I’m finally doing it. Alexander thought. “One.” Alexander felt the spaceship vibrating beneath him, and suddenly, he was blasting away, towards space. He was finally going to space. The spaceship passed through the atmosphere and slowed down, the black sky surrounding him. Alexander felt the ship jump a bit, that must’ve been the carrier rocket detaching. He pushed a few buttons on the controls in front of him and made the ship coast for a bit. Alexander stood up and examined the spaceship from the inside, everything looked good. He made a quick report back to base and looked outside. He was amazed, he was finally here, the stars standing out against the black sky. Alexander turned his gaze to the left, and froze. The Earth was huge! It looked as if it was hanging in the void. The other astronauts had told him about this. It was called the “overview effect.” It happens to most people when they see Earth for the first time. Alexander remembered what they had told him: “That when you’re so far away from Earth and can see the whole planet, you become fully overwhelmed and in awe of seeing your planet. Of seeing the unity and fragility of life.” Another astronaut had said “It’s the uncanny sense of understanding the ‘big picture,’ and of feeling connected to and yet bigger than the intricate process bubbling on earth.” A few astronauts had said that it gave them a new kind of self-awareness. Alexander remembered the book Ron Garan wrote that he had read so many times, he had memorized one part of it, and thought about it at that moment. It was when he grabbed onto a mechanical arm on the International Space Station in 2008, he was flung over the space station and back: As I approached the top of this arc, it was as if time stood still, and I was flooded with both emotion and awareness. But as I looked down at the Earth -- this stunning, fragile oasis, this island that has been given to us, and that has protected all life from the harshness of space -- a sadness came over me, and I was hit in the gut with an undeniable, sobering contradiction. In spite of the overwhelming beauty of this scene, serious inequity exists on the apparent paradise we have been given. I couldn't help thinking of the nearly one billion people who don't have clean water to drink, the countless number who go to bed hungry every night, the social injustice, conflicts, and poverty that remain pervasive across the planet. Seeing Earth from this vantage point gave me a unique perspective -- something I've come to call the orbital perspective. Part of this is the realization that we are all traveling together on the planet and that if we all looked at the world from that perspective we would see that nothing is impossible. Alexander now understood what he had meant. He had the same feeling that Ron Garan had described then. Alexander had seen pictures of Earth from space before, but it was so different seeing it right in front of him. He now understood why Buzz Aldrin, one of his role models, along with Neil Armstrong and Michael Collins, had called it “a brilliant jewel in the black velvet sky.” The three of them were a part of the Apollo 11 mission, they were some of the first people to look down on Earth from space. Alexander could now say that he was one of those people to have experienced that feeling, to know what it’s like to see your planet from afar. He could now say that he had fulfilled his dream. His dream had been to go to space, but seeing Earth like that was more than enough for him. He considered himself lucky to have seen it, despite being on an important and relatively time sensitive mission. His mission was supposed to do some surveillance and repairs on a satellite that was hit by a floating rock and wasn’t reparable from the NASA headquarters. Alexander drank in the sight of Earth, of his planet, he never thought that he would actually be here, fulfilling his dream. Everyone had told him how hard it would be and how few people actually get accepted at those kinds of jobs. He had proven them wrong. He had shown all of the people who doubted him that he had done it. That he was living his dream. Alexander walked back to the front of the ship, making sure that he was still going the right way, that the autopilot was still working and it was taking him to the coordinates his superiors at NASA had sent him. Alexander remembered what they had told him, they had said that this would be his chance to prove that he was ready to start going to space, they had said that he had to do this alone, that this was a test. He remembered how the only person that believed in him had brought it up in the first place, and the others had actually listened to him. Alexander thanked him mentally. He promised himself that he would prove himself to his superiors and they would let him go on more missions in space when he got back. Alexander still couldn’t believe that he was finally fulfilling his dream. *I got all the information about the overview effect and what the astronauts said from here: https://www.businessinsider.com/overview-effect-nasa-apollo8-perspective-awareness-space-2015-8


The school bell rings. School is over, and I run to my locker and grab my backpack. I run outside to the bus, and I take my seat towards the back. I am always one of the first few people on the bus. The bus starts to fill with my classmates who sit with their friends. I make myself small in anticipation. A group of seven fifth graders sit in the back around me. We have an agreement where I won’t acknowledge them, and they don’t acknowledge me. I don’t pay attention to their conversations as it is rude to eavesdrop. The bus leaves the school, and I start to head home. On the way back, I see a basketball group assembling in the backyard for practice. My parents insist on getting me to play a sport every year. I always tell them that I am too clumsy for sports. Gym class is the riskiest time for me; my lack of athletic ability is on full display. The other students go from ignoring me to disliking me. I keep quiet and wait for it to be over. Sometimes, I am clever enough to find a way to excel at a sport. The students always cheer for me in shock, and I find their screams worse. Why do they have to be so loud? When the bus reaches my stop, the fifth-graders let me out of my seat. Occasionally, I am forced to get off the next stop by people who hate me. When I get to my house, I pull out my key and open the door. Right beside the door, there is a brochure. I sigh. I wonder what my parents will want me to do this time. I take off my shoes, and I run up stairs. When I reach my room, I pull out my notebook and start scribbling. The contents are a mystery to everyone except for me. It is a log of my adventures. There is an intergalactic society, a magic kingdom, an international spy organization, a superhero team, and so much more in this notebook. I have traveled to far away galaxies and other dimensions. I have survived a trip to the core of the sun and the day of the dinosaurs extinction. Even small things are grand adventures like the time I helped the elderly woman with crops or when I repaired a ship in space. I hear a knock on the door. “Hey Jamie, so I know you like your notebook so I was looking up various camps for you. I found this program ran by the community college that lets kids learn about exciting things that aren’t taught in school. There is a course on the science of Star Wars. I think you should look into it,” he says. “No thanks,” I say. He sits next to me on the bed. “Just listen. Your mother and I are worried about you. You usually go straight to your room after you get home. We’d like you to start trying new things,” he says. “I am trying new things in my notebook,” I say. I avoid his gaze. I always see disapprovement in his eyes. “Son, we mean new activities. We think it would be good for you. It’d be a chance for you to make some friends at school,” he says. “I did make a friend. Remember Quinn,” I say. “Quinn was not a good friend,” he says. I shrug. My parents didn’t like him because his parents let him dye his hair black, and they were worried he would be a bad influence on me. We see each other at school, but they will not let us hangout after school. “Look all I am saying is consider it. You might like it,” he leaves the brochure next to me. “That’s what you said about basketball camp,” I say. “Son, we told you that you never tried which is why you hated that camp. Please just try this,” he walks out of the room. I look at the brochure and start to flip through the pamphlet. Maybe I should take one of these courses. It could help with my writing. I did make a version of basketball that was played in space from the basketball camp. My parents didn’t understand why I was doing it, but at least, they are trying to understand me. I see a course called Harnessing Your Imagination. I look at my notebook. Maybe they were able to find a place for me. *Adolescent Tribulations* “Jamie, supper time,” I hear my mom yell. I sigh and leave my computer. I walk down the stairs, but I trip and fall on the last few stairs. My sister is standing there laughing at me. “Do we need to get you a Life Alert? Seeing as how you are always falling,” she says. “Shut up, Katie,” I stand up. “Is that all you have for a comeback?” she smiles at me. “Yep, your opening insult was so bad that I am not going to justify it with a proper response,” I reply. “What?” her smile fades, and I have thrown her off-guard. “It didn’t make sense. You are the one that fell in front of Quinn and ruined your chances of dating him,” I reply. “Mom, Jamie is being mean to me,” she explodes. “James stop being mean to your sister and come sit down at the dinner table, you too,” mom says. “I would stop being mean to her if you would start calling me James all the time and not just when I am in trouble,” I say. Dad sighs. “Son, can we please have a nice family dinner? I understand that you have an obligation to rebel as a teenager, but please let’s all enjoy each other’s company,” he says. I shrug and sit-down. The hunger in my stomach is overwriting the other moods that I feel. I grab a plate of lasagna and salad, and I am sure to sit away from Katie since she will steal my food. “So how was everyone’s day,” mom asks. “Fine,” I say. “Great. Olivia and I were invited to Ava’s pool party this weekend,” Katie says with a grin. “Ava,” mom’s brow furrows,” Isn’t her sister Taylor in your grade, Jamie. I mean James.” “Yeah, I don’t talk to her,” I say. “She is too cool for him,” Katie says. I ignore her comment. “Katie please don’t start it at the dinner table,” mom says. I quickly finish what’s on my plate and leave. “Wait, please don’t leave. We would like to talk some more,” mom says. “I don’t,” I walk up to my room and sit at my computer. I start watching streamers and playing games alone. I hear my dad knock on my door. “Sorry that your sister can be passive-aggressive, your mother and I talked to her about it after you left,” he says. “Thanks,” I say. “Are you writing again?” he asks with a smile. “Nope,” I reply. “Oh, that’s a shame. I thought you had a real talent for it,” he says. “Guess I didn’t,” my dad stands in the door, “Bye dad.” He leaves. I debate whether I should yell for him to return so I can explain why I don’t write anymore. After I took my first writing course, I refined my raw imagination into cohesive stories. The quality varied from unreadable to passable, but it was a consistent source of happiness. I felt invincible as a writer because I was fully in control of the narrative. Katie was the one who took that control. She stole one of my weaker stories where I was a space knight saving the galaxy from an evil serpentine race. It featured your standard child writing tropes: a plot that made little sense, constant space battles, and awkward dialogue. She read it with her friends Ava and Olivia to laugh at me. Ava’s sister Taylor found the story and showed it to her friends. Within a week, that story was the bane of my existence. One particular line was constantly used to taunt me. “You’ve shed your last skin, Vipro.” In the story, it was supposed to be the hero’s triumphant moment. In my life, it was emblematic of the lowest point in my life. After a few months, everyone forgot most of the story except for that line. Within a year, they pretty much stopped mentioning it unless they saw me writing for unrelated reasons. I rarely hear it now, but my reputation as a dreadful writer stuck and alienated me from my class. I never write now for fear of derision, and I still hold a degree of resentment towards Katie. Katie never apologized for stealing my story. I don’t think she ever will. If I brought it up to her now, she would tell me to get over it. My parents are dismayed that I failed at something else, but I am content with their disappointment. They won’t mock me for it, and if I’m not being mocked, then I am safe. *Adult Tragedies* James walks up the stairs and feels a sharp pain in his knees. These stairs aren’t that steep. He curses his failing body as he walks into the church. Funerals are an odd setting. No one knows what they’re doing. They are wandering around filling the time before it starts. James walks to the front row and settles into an edge seat. He hopes that no one talks to him. He cannot handle the emotional labor. His hopes are quickly dashed as multiple people take the opportunity to quickly speak with him. He forces a smile to avoid being rude, but he wants to be alone. More people start to enter the church and greet him. He finally sees his mom and uncle, Luke, enter. Both of them have red around their eyes. They go up to the stage. The funeral starts with full pews except for a small spot next to James. He looks around for Kate, but she is nowhere to be seen. James dissociates at the start of the funeral and misses every speech and song. He doesn’t want to believe it’s happening. Someone nudges him to stand to carry the casket. He can’t believe that it's over so quickly. Time passes faster now. He carries the casket with his relatives out of the church to the car. He gets into the vehicle and follows the procession to the burial. He has driven down these roads so many times. This is where he first learned to drive with his father, and now, he is driving on them to lay him to rest. When James arrives at the cemetery, he looks for a car or a person by the plot. The burial workers are the only people there. James carries the casket to the plot and watches it be lowered into the hole. He turns to his car to go back to the church for the repast. He grabs his sandwich and meats off the trays as well as a glass of water. He sits at the closest table to the front that has been reserved for family. His mother and Luke set their plates down by him, but they quickly leave to socialize with the crowd. They know that he isn’t much of a talker. His mom leaves her dog Terry on a leash by the table for James to watch. He always liked Terry, and he pets her between bites. His sister sits down next to him with a plate of food and a glass of wine. “Hey James, how’ve you been,” she smiles at James and accidentally reveals the lipstick on her teeth from when she hurriedly prepared for the repast. “I’m fine,” he looks down at Terry. “That’s good. Is everything going well at your accounting firm?” she asks. “Architecture firm,” he replies and takes a drink. “Oh sorry, I forgot,” she says. James shrugs, “How was the ceremony?” “It was fine,” James keeps eating. “Are you going to answer me in more than just simple sentences?” she asks. “No,” James says. “Come on. It’s dad’s funeral. Can we please get along now?” her voice cracks. James looks at her. “His funeral was earlier. You would’ve been there if you had any sense of responsibility,” he says. “I’m sorry. This is a really rough time for me,” she says. “It’s rough for us too. Mom was freaking out because you weren’t at the visitation. I texted you twenty times, and you never responded. Mom thought she lost you too. I knew that you were just being you. When you called her afterward, the only reason she was so happy was because she knew you were alive. She begged you to come to the funeral, and you no-showed. It’s no surprise that you showed up to the only event that serves alcohol,” James tries to maintain control of his voice, but a few people glance at their table. “James, why do you constantly judge me? I remember you used to be cool. You used to write those weird stories when did you become so so,” Kate stutters. “Kate, you mocked me for writing. I picked up writing again as a hobby, but I didn’t tell you that because you only respond when you need money. I’d walk away from you, but I’m not sure you’d be able to take good care of the dog,” James’s voice turns to a shout. His mother starts to cry. Luke starts walking towards them. “James, Rex loves me,” Kate shouts. James blinks at her. “Her name is Terry,” James walks away from her. Luke tries to stop him, but James brushes past him. “Make sure the dog doesn’t get any of her wine,” he says to Luke as he walks out the door. *Elderly Regrets* James sleeps in his bed facing the ceiling. He is unable to turn to the side as the wires and tubes in his body restrain him. The rhythm of his heartbeat provides a steady background noise. In his younger years, he wouldn’t be able to sleep in these conditions. At his age, he could fall asleep at a rock concert. When he awakes, he sees an older woman facing him with a smile on her face. His family is huddled outside of the room. For a few moments, James looks from side to side in the room before a frown covers his face. “Kate, why are you here?” he asks. Kate flaps her hand and gently presses him with a slight chuckle. She sits on a nearby chair to take the stress off of her feet. “My older brother had a heart attack. Of course I am going to visit you,” she says. “Where are you staying?” he presses onward. “Is that really relevant?” she puts her hands on her hips. “Yes,” he shoots back. “Your family offered to let me stay in their guest bedroom. I did not impose myself,” she huffs. “It was Chris wasn’t it. He has always had a soft-spot for you. I tried to tell him how,” James starts to raise his voice. “Just stop please. I’m not here to fight. I’m here to reconnect,” Kate starts to cry, “I always wanted to tell you that I was doing better, but I always felt like it was the wrong time. Your heart attack made me realize that I had to see you. Your family told me that you’d recover, and I thought that now would be a good time to start reconnecting.” James starts to cackle, “I read a quote a while back that said, ‘growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional.’ I think that describes you perfectly. If I were to have a relationship with you, I would be your father and not your brother.” “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re the one who refused to grow-up. I went back to college, and I have a job at a software company. I still love to party on occasion, but it isn’t holding me back in life. You on the other hand have refused to let the past be the past, and you abandon things that you love too easily. I was talking to Chris the other day. He had no idea that you used to write as a hobby,” Kate pulls out a notebook, “Your wife had this in the attic. It is all your story ideas. She says you haven’t touched it in thirty years.” “That was a product of childish naivety. Besides, there is no time to write a story,” James replies. “There is time now. You are just too stuck in your ways to try,” Kate stands up, “I came here to offer you an olive branch. You have taken that branch and used it as a weapon. It’s your turn to grow-up.” Kate walks out the door leaving her brother. His family comes in to comfort him, but his combative nature forces them to abandon him leaving him alone in his bed. Life is filled with love. Life is filled with loss. Life is filled with joy. Life is filled with anger. Life is constantly moving forward. Never let the aches and pains of the past prevent life from moving forward or be exiled from love and companionship at the end of life.


CW: Gore, death, mutilation, depictions of assault, violence The Governor's hands shake with delight as he scribbles onto the slab of paper the plans for the new Church. His little piece of charcoal barely suffices for the massive plans shaping in that pinhead of his. He stays up until the break of dawn, a streak of sunlight floods into the musty wooden room. Daylight dancing across the finished architectural plans. The Governor clasps his hands together, a shy smile forming across his small face, "At last, the people of my town can praise our fine Heavenly Father." He scratches his stubble, then rolls the paper delicately. Wouldn't want to destroy his precious markings. As his feet find the mud that lingers outside of his luxurious home, he notices a strong metallic icky smell that makes him shudder. "What in God's name is that?" He turns his head left, then right, then left again where he notices a faint red painted onto the tall grayish grasses. He sighs bitterly, then begins to follow the red into the large field of tall grasses. As he walks, despising the stench, he notices he steps onto something mushy, like the mud outside his home. He looks down, and yelps. A dead cat, with its insides on the outside, lays before him. A footprint shown in the middle of its diaphragm. He looks ahead, trying to ignore the vivid image of the dead cat. He notices a group of girls dancing around in the forest. His eyebrows knit together in distress, whatever could this be? He approaches the girls, and says, "What the hell is going on here?" They look at him with black eyes and merely reply, "Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour." 1 Peter 5:8-9 . The Governor groans and throws his hands up in the air, recognizing each of the girls easily. Polly Shepard, Maisie Williams, and their ringleader, Talia Smith. The citizens of the Church always looked down on these girls and their families, they were at the bottom of the social status of course, who could bear to be associated with them? But The Governor always had a dreadful feeling around these girls, his stomach twisted and spun, his heart pumped blood at a notorious rate. He rubbed his temples delicately, then stared at each of the black-eyed girls, "If you three spawns of Satan are practicing the devil's teachings, then you'll all be hung. Thou shall not practice that of the devil on my premises." "Governor, you worry we are practicing the wishes of the devil ?!" Polly rolls her eyes mischievously, then adjusts the bonnet atop her head, "How could that be?" "We are well-minded Church-followers, sir, hast the people of our town rotted your brain, Governor?" Peeps Maisie, she wraps a strand of golden hair around her slim finger, the Governor's heart rate palpitates, not because he is frightened, but because of the beauty of this young girl. Maisie must feel the Governor's clear attraction towards her because she immediately stares at the mud before them. "Governor, you shouldn't be fearful." Talia waves her hands in front of her in defense, "Don't be frightened." A devilish smile lingers on Talia's face before the Governor turns his body and faces back towards the village. He hears the little giggles of the girls, and he turns his head slightly to face them, but finds nothing. They are gone. The Governor clears her throat, and begins to preoccupy his mind with the architectural plans. *** "What the hell?" Peter scoffs, he rubs his eyes meticulously, then stares at his younger sister Maisie with shifty brown eyes. "Peter don't be frightened" She reaches out to her older brother, but he flinches. "You're a devil! Satan's incarnate you...y-you..." He trails off shaking his head, the feeling of the warm stinging blood dripping down his back envelopes him into his own fever dream. Maisie traces the mysterious symbol with the tip of her finger. Peter feels goosebumps rise as he acknowledges his sister's cold fingertips etching his back. "I did not commit this terrible act, 'fore I do not practice the teachings of the devil, dear brother." Maisie retorts, her sweet voice gives Peter a toothache. "Where the hell did it come from then?!" Peter seethes sarcastically, the back of his hand meets Maisie's face, she finds herself on the ground. "Brother, I do not know of your sins, but perhaps the devil is taking you away because of your acts." Maisie rubs her hand against the wood below them, then looks up at her brother with blue eyes, "You mustn't be afraid." Peter scowls then stands in front of his reflection, and turns his head to the left to stare at his own bare back, a bright, glowing pentacle stares right back at him. *** "Yes and Doctor Joseph was so scared he near threw up into the well." "I heard that Peter is now the Devil's host." "Best watch out for those troublesome Willams and all those other rats." The hens cluck as the ladies run their mouths. Talia grips her basket tighter as she overhears the town gossip. As she plucks eggs and rests them into her wicker basket, she hears approaching footsteps behind her, and notices she is cornered in the hen house. She turns around and is met with Henry and Charles, the righteous boys. "I heard you and your little Satan worshippers are carving into our mates." Henry says, jabbing his oily finger into Talia's chest. Charles takes a bite out of a yellow apple, chews it up in his mouth, this spits it out at Talia. She flinches, letting the chum fly past her. "I do not practice the teachings of the devil, for I only worship one God." She points her finger upwards, the boys begin to whoop with laughter. "She says she isn't a devil worshipper? How amusing." Charles scoffs, Talia can smell the sweetness of the apple. Henry grabs her arm abruptly, Talia becomes panicked. He licks her arm slowly, his dark eyes cut through Talia, the saliva resonates upon her bare arm. Charles grabs her by the waist and whispers in her ear, "Begone, devil." *** Polly hears the screams loudly in her head, bouncing back and forth and around, playing double-dutch in her brain. She drops the basket of yellow apples, and begins to run out of the sour-smelling orchard. "Polly where are you going?!" Her father yells after her, but she is being pulled towards something. When she stands in front of the hen house, she notices Maisie beside her, their black eyes study the hen house, then they enter it. Henry has his hands holding Talia's face as Charles holds her arms behind her back. They arrived just in time before Henry and Charles could proceed in their terrible crimes. "Look, the other devils have come to play." Charles sneers. Those were his last words. *** "They're devil's! All of them!" Cries the Governor, the cold lifeless hands of the righteous boys clutched in his, "Everything is changing!" He stares at the peculiar pentacle deeply carved into the boys. Their eyes are missing from their sockets, blood slithers from the eye's beholder's onto the pointy grass. The mob had clustered the girls into their circle of hate. Shouting insults and the Priest reciting samples from the Bible over the wave of noise, "Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." James 4:7. Each of the girls study the mob insightfully, black eyes intertwine with their natural God-given eyes, the devil has forever taken them. The Governor begins to quiet them down, urging them to listen to what he has to say, "These girls have been nothing but trouble!" He nods to the obeying crowd, and nods to the Priest. The Priest then reads directly from his hefty Bible, "But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you." Luke 11:20. *** The rope rubs against Talia's neck, she distributes weight between one leg to another, the hollow wooden boards under her squeak with delight. The Gallows had been waiting for them. "Because of the use of Satanism and disrespect to our Heavenly Father, and the murders of the righteous boys, Polly Shepard, Maisie Williams, and..." The Governor's voice cracks, "Talia Smith have been sentenced to...d-death!" There is no hesitation as the boards under them are removed, and the snapping noise vibrates the Earth below them. The sound made the people feel satisfied, yet an acrid scent punched their noses and an acidic feeling remained in their stomachs. The three girl's families whooped with glee, except for Polly's father, he looked upset, but still a shimmer of glee swirled in his eyes. They had received the perfect gift, their wretched daughters had been removed from their beloved town, no more witchcraft or devil-worshipping. What a delectable gift. What a tasty treat. A meaningful ending. A match drawn in the darkness. At last, The Governor's town was free of darkness, that was his gift. Building the Church was now the only thing on his mind. That night, the bodies of three young girls swung with the cold breeze. *** Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. Ephesians 6:11


A loud knock on the door woke me up. "The rent!" said a voice sharply from the corridor. I pull myself up from the couch slowly, shaking off the confusion, before darting towards a pre-prepared envelope I left on my desk. I must have fallen asleep while watching the news about the pandemic again. I make my way towards the entrance while still struggling with the disorientation before carefully slipping the envelope under the door. I feel it snatched from my fingers halfway through, followed by the sounds of impatient footsteps echoing away from me. I don't know how long he was waiting, but he probably came back to my door as his last stop at this complex. I straightened myself up while staring blankly at the door - or rather, at the only semblance of human interaction I've had in a while - pondering the time when I will have to make a choice between rent and food. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when I noticed a post-it on the door. "Don't go out", it said in no uncertain terms. When did I leave it there? I make my way to the refrigerator to pour myself a glass of water, stopping to take a mental inventory of how much food I have left, my hand firmly grasping the door handle while my eyes gaze at the emptiness inside. My trancelike state was interrupted when out of the corner of my eye, a view from my kitchen window grabbed my attention. My neighbour from the adjacent complex, with whom I exchange an insincere half smile whenever we cross each other's view, was being dragged out of her apartment by two men in suits. Was she being evicted? Her struggling and face contorted by pain and hopelessness rendered the scene all the more eerie due to the silence of it - broken only by the sound of my refrigerator's motor, slightly straining from the door I left open. I knew I should be sad in that moment, but the guilt of my indifference at her distress was washed away by my own weariness and powerlessness to help. I tried to muster a tear, but nothing came as I stood there observing a now empty dwelling, a stark reminder of my loneliness. I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, dimly lit by my nightstand lamp. I always found its warm luminescence comforting during lonely nights. I used to hear the arguments of the couple with whom I share a poorly insulated bedroom wall - from the tidbits of information I could gather, their quarreling had to do with his insistence on scrounging up food from nocturnal expeditions while she implored him to wait for government help. Now all I could hear every night was the sound of her lone crying. The thought of reaching out to her dissipated as I turned to the side and stretched my arm out to turn off the lamp, closing my eyes and shutting myself out from the world. I was washing myself up with soapy water after my morning task - toilet paper having become a luxury at this point - when the sound a box being dropped at my doorstep and a businesslike knock had me sprinting towards the door. "Wait!" I shouted, positioning myself at the peephole like a child anticipating the return of his parents. The soldier in full hazmat suit stopped mid-step and turned his head towards the door, his face hidden by his hood's reflective visor, his shape distorted by the lens. "Last month's delivery only had about 2 weeks' worth of supplies!" I protested. "That's all we have to give, if you're not happy, I can take it somewhere else!" his cold muffled voice replied, as he crouched to pick the box back up. "No, please! Stay - I mean, leave it there!" He froze for a second before getting back up. "Don't come out until I'm gone!" said he with an authoritative finger pointed at my judas, before anxiously getting back to his deliveries. I sat down Indian style, listening to him complete his task, before his footsteps receded out the building. I waited a while longer, for the sounds of neighbouring doors opening and closing to stop, carefully paying attention that nobody was approaching my own supplies. I did notice the sound of my neighbour with whom I share a bedroom wall grabbing her box in a hurry, with the absence of meowing from her usually very vocal cat worrisome. I struggled to pull myself up, partly because of the numbness in my legs, partly because of the hunger. A quick inspection through the aperture showed a now quiet hallway with the sight of my goods still there providing a sigh of relief. I grabbed the box expediently before slamming the door shut, its weight much lighter than the previous shipments. In my hurry to open it, I omitted wiping it down first; my stash of disinfectant wipes was dwindling anyway. My excitement was stifled when I took a look at its contents. I only had about a week's worth of rations and a single soap bar. "The rent!" said an impatient voice from the hallway. I picked myself up from the floor, observing my surroundings while I regained consciousness. In my haste, I had already eaten through a day's worth of food already; the sour stench of bile filled my lungs as it didn't agree with my weakened digestive tract. What a waste, I thought. "One second!" I made my way to the living room before rushing back with an envelope in hand. Kicking the box of supplies out of the way, I paused before slipping it through the crack; this was going to be last payment I could afford. I pondered telling him about my situation when the envelope was suddenly snatched from my fingers once more, leaving me with the scuttling of departing footsteps. I made my way to the kitchen to grab a mop to clean up my vomit, when I noticed that the vacant apartment facing it was once more occupied. The curtains that were usually always open were now drawn. All I could see were two silhouettes dancing - no, not dancing... slithering. I stood there mesmerized by their movements, until they abruptly stopped. One of the silhouettes outstretched an arm to turn off the lights, the apartment once more drowning in shadows. The landlords never bothered to replace the burnt-out lights that illuminated the narrow alley between our buildings. All I could see now from my first-floor window was a chasm of endless darkness, a reflection of my own state of mind. The hunger must be getting to me, I'm starting to see things. It has been weeks since my TV antenna stopped receiving, but that hasn't deterred my nightly attempts at getting a signal so that I could get an update on the progression of the virus. I would've gotten my information online, were it not for my Internet connection being one of the first casualties of my current financial situation. My attempts of communicating with the outside world were also fruitless prior to having my phone line cut. Who could I call for help when nobody answers? No signal seemed to be going out. Or coming in. The last time I had an update on the virus, it had crystallized into a pollenlike substance. We were told to keep our windows and outside doors shut and taped up to avoid any infiltration, which I did diligently. Perhaps too diligently, as the stale air irritated my throat and caused me to occasionally cough. I peeked through my curtains and waited a while. The pollen that had fallen days ago had all dissipated and the air was still. I decided to take a chance and unpeeled the tape around one of the windows before cracking it open an inch. I bent down and closed my eyes as I took in a lung full of fresh air. The slight breeze on my face reminded me of the pre-pandemic days: the feelings of freedom and being carefree. I started to crack a smile when a gust of wind abruptly snapped me out of my daydreaming. I hurriedly closed the window and resealed it again as a cloud of pollen was making its rounds between buildings. I sat down on my couch, defeated, on the verge of tears. I had no desire to die, yet no will to live either. I feared death and hated living; I was stuck in limbo. A month had passed, the rent was now due. A payment that I knew I couldn't make. "The rent!", said the landlord, in a voice that was different from usual. "Uh...", I replied through the door, trying to come up with something to say. "THE RENT!", he sharply cut me with. I was taken aback by his lack of empathy; surely I wasn't the only tenant that was struggling during these times? Noticeably frozen by him, he corrected his demeanour: "Your rrent iss due..." he reiterated calmly in oddly stretched syllables. I slowly approached the peephole to take a look, my vision greeted by a featureless hooded cloaked figure. Sensing my attempt to take a glance at him, he bluntly attempted to peer back through the judas. I jumped up in shock at the sight of a serpentine eye staring back at me. "Yourr rrent iss duue..." he repeated while raking long fingernails across my door, scratching away the paint. "I'll have it tomorrow!" I blurted out in panic. The strange figure was now hunched over, a mouthful of sharp teeth scraping at my doorknob, while a thin tongue extended itself and wrapped around it, trying to jiggle it open. I backed away from the door while holding it closed with my hands, putting my full weight behind them, which was almost nothing at this point. "I'll have it tomorrow, I swear!" I shouted, drowning out what little logical sense I had left. I heard him withdraw from the handle while I waited for a reply - nothing but silence. I turned my ear to the door and listened carefully - nothing still. I worked up the courage to take a peek again; he was already gone. No footsteps. I was about to back away, when I noticed scratch marks on the floor near my neighbour's door, the signs of a possible scuffle. It must have happened during one of my blackouts from starvation. I'm going crazy. I know that now. I had learned how to tune out my neighbour's nightly wailing and fall asleep regardless, but tonight was different. I was kept awake not only by the stress of trying to come up with a solution for tomorrow, but my neighbour's sudden silence was also deafening to me now. I picked up my phone, which was now a glorified boombox that only played whatever music I already had on it, and headed to the living room. I set myself in a fetal position on the couch while scrolling through my library of songs, scrambling to find one to break up the quietness. I closed my eyes and hit play. ♫ A candy-colored clown they call the sandman Tiptoes to my room every night Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper "Go to sleep. Everything is all right." I close my eyes, then I drift away Into the magic night, I softly say A silent prayer like dreamers do Then I fall asleep to dreams, my dreams of you ♫ A ringtone woke me up from the couch. I grabbed my phone and looked at it in puzzlement: "One Missed Call". When did my service come back? My train of thoughts was interrupted by a draft on my skin. The front door! I rushed to it, paralyzed in horror at the sight of my door wide open. No signs of forced entry, it must be the landlord with his set of keys. Not daring to peek outside, I slammed the door shut and locked it up again. I backed away from the door slowly, thinking about my next move. A wisp of air and sharp punctures on my neck are the last things I feel before collapsing on the ground.


Just as I was about to exit the garage to wash all blood off of my hands, I heard: "Dont leave... please" Michael panted, already out of breath. There was blood crusted beneath his nose, and he was tied to the chair that once belonged to my desk. I could see tears form in his eyes, and after everything I've done, I know that he still loves me. "You're not like this Oliv-" "Its Miranda. And you don't know me. Dont think that you do, because you're very, very wrong." "Please. I do know you. I know that you are amazing, I know deep down you love me, I know your favorite color Is red, I know-" "Just stop. Don't make this harder than it already is..." Now I could tell that I was starting to cry, so I turned around as fast as I could, hoping that he didn't notice. I tripped over my own heels, and fell flat on the floor. I heard footsteps coming towards us, and I knew what was about to happen. I gulped down the puke that I could feel coming out of my system. "Good evening Michael," She side-eyed me "Olivia you don't look too good". There was an annoyance in her voice, as always. "Its Mir-" "I don't care. Anyways why are you on the floor? Get up. We've got to get to Oregon in 3 hours to steal that painting! Dont cost me 1 million dollars you little girl. Remember whos in charge here." "Always nice to see you too boss" I gave her a little wink. She looked at me very angrily, and then she heard heavy breathing. Uh-oh. "He's still alive. Why? You have one job. ONE!" "I- I can't bring myself to do it." "Fine then I'll do it myself." She grabbed a Glock pistol out of the strap attached to her long, red dress, and held it to his head. "Boss don't do this. Please. He doesn't even have anything we want!" I was panting at this point, and I knew that the mascara was smeared all over my face, and I bet it wasn't pretty. "Yes, but he knows everything! What do you think he's going to tell the cops?!" She practically yelled. "I promise I won't tell the cops anything just let me go-" BANG* Just like that...he was gone. I felt like my heart just shattered, and I ran over to where he was laying, and rested my head on his chest. He began to whisper- "You are my sunshine," and then it faded away... That was our song, and he always sung it to me to fall asleep, since I had trouble sleeping, and his voice always soothed me. "NO! NO!" I cried even harder. "It's going to be okay, you're going to make it." "It's no use Miranda," She blew on the tip of her pistol, as she called it "He's gone for good." "What is wrong with you?!" I got up and headed her way. "Just doing my job," She puffed out her chest, to make herself look bolder "as you should too." "No." "What did you just say to me?" "I said no." She then pointed the gun to my chest, and I heard the sound that the gun usually makes before she pulls the trigger. "Take it back before you end up like Michael." She blurted out. "You wouldn't dare-" BANG* My chest hurt, and I gripped my shirt as I fell to the floor once again. It hurt so bad, but all I could think about was losing the love of my life. I saw her lean over me for the last time, and then I felt my eyes shut. I had thought I died, but I kept on thinking. I felt dizzy, and cold, and I was on a very hard surface. I slowly opened my eyes, and realized how much pain I was in. I noticed that I was in the back of a van, and instead of being the one kidnapping someone, I was the one being captured. "Why good morning sleepy-head" "What do you want?" "Be nice to me I could have let you die then and there." my boss smirked "Ugh I wish I had died, I want nothing to do with you. I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone in my entire life." The smirk then left her face, and she removed the vibrant red hair from her face. She was so beautiful, and as much as I hated my boss, I loved her blue eyes. I have never been able to stay mad at her for long... "Where are we?" "Well we're not in Oregon I'll tell you. I had to drag your body into the van." She sighed "It was a lot of work." "Wow Im so grateful" I said sarcastically, then rolled my eyes. "Listen, Miranda" She actually sounded kind of... sorry? regretful? "I know you are upset with me now, but I'll make it up to you I promise." I heard a loud yell from a foreign language, coming from the driver's seat. "Well would you look at that" my boss said smiling "We're in LA". "WHAT?!" "You heard me this time." She opened the back of the van, and I climbed out, drawing attention from everyone at the gas station. I looked down at my chest, and realized they were staring at my white button down shirt, that had a giant blood stain. I grabbed the leather jacket that was tied around my waist, and zipped it up over my chest. I had a red mini-skirt on, and black heels, and my legs were freezing off of my body. "Oh sweetheart we need to get you some clothes!" my boss hugged me like she was my mom. I pulled away. "Don't call me that" "I was just trying to act normal." A police car pulled up, and asked us if everything was okay. "Officer I need he-" I tried to say "Everything is okay officer. Thank you for stopping by." My boss said, looking at me disappointingly. "Well Im getting disturbing reports coming in, so if you guys could tell me what the hell is going on here." "Officer I've been kidnapped help me!" I got the chance to yell. He grabbed out his cuffs, and as I thought he was about to cuff my boss, instead he told me to turn around. "Wait what are you doing?! She's the bad guy!" "Ma'am something seems a little off about you, we're going to get you drug tested okay?" My boss came over and whispered in my ear: "This is why you don't mess with me. I know everyone in this city- Sweetheart." I could feel her dirty smile on my ear "Have fun spending the night in jail."


“Are you coming tonight?” I was starting to regret the moment I decided to pick up the call when I saw Veer’s name flashing on my phone screen. “Ahmed, I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer!” I weighed out all the excuses in my mind that I could give him - I have to help Amma cook mutton korma today, I have a head ache, I have to rearrange the shelves in Abbu’s shop; but apparently he had heard every single one of them by now, more times than I could count on my fingers. “Who all are going to be there?” I asked and began tapping my foot uncontrollably against the wooden desk. “Suraj, you and I; just the three of us.” I hummed in agreement and hung up before he could make any other stupid requests, like, let’s go to Karan’s house on the way back home, or, let’s go to a party instead. And then it dawned upon me - the realization - I was to step outside the safe and secure premises of my house after contently avoiding social interaction for a month. It had been a blissful month, the mandatory bed rest recommended by the doctor - my savior. I could stay at home without being coaxed by my parents or friends to ‘go for a stroll’ as they liked to call it. I stayed on bed all day long, coming out of my room for a quick shower, or to sneak into the kitchen at night to eat Amma’s delicious rasgullas which I wasn’t supposed to eat considering my health status. The fact that Amma made sure I didn’t help in the daily chores because I was supposed to rest was the cherry on the top. Don’t get me wrong, I had in fact been sick for two weeks - my muscles too stiff to cooperate and the uninvited chills - but it wasn’t as bad as the doctor portrayed it to be. Dr. Rashid, our family doctor, can be a bit dramatic at times. I hastily walked towards my room, threw open the closet and scrounged for a piece of clothing that was ‘presentable’ enough for my night out. After dressing and undressing for several futile hours, I settled on an olive green shirt matched with khaki pants. I changed into them and glanced at the mirror - my face looked like a shrunken grape, the ever-present dark bags under my eyes looked more prominent and my body looked too slender to be mine. Maybe Dr. Rashid wasn’t as dramatic as I thought him to be. As I stepped over the metallic threshold of the main gate, I could feel my heart beating frantically against my chest. I continued walking away from my sanctuary, the ominous feeling in me at its peak when I crossed the road to reach the local market. My eyes scanned the long, dingy and stuffed path that lead me to ‘Guru Dhaba’ - a place with the least amount of sober people at this time - which was owned by Veer’s father. Seeing a horde of people congregating around the vegetable seller, I felt constricted; the familiar warm and salty air lightly brushing my sticky face as I hurried my steps. I came to an immediate halt as I saw a familiar face walking towards me - her gaze fixated on me - with a smile on her face. I went over a few options in my head, like running away as fast as I could, or better than that, pretending to have amnesia - refusing to have any association with her. I knew it was too late before she came face-to-face with me. She used the hem of her dark green saree to wipe her face which was as sweaty as mine, if not worse. I greeted her with the best fake pleasantries I could produce and touched her feet. “Ahmed beta, how are you? I haven’t seen you around since a month now! You have lost so much weight.” she said as she looked at me - Head to Toe. It felt like she was scrutinizing my face, my body and my soul under her gaze. We chatted for a bit which mostly included inappropriately irrelevant questions from her side and awkward smiles from me in response. “Come to my house, I have prepared ‘Besan Ladoo’ using desi ghee. After eating them you’ll become healthy like before.” I joined my hands together in regard and continued finding my way through the labyrinth of cramped lanes. I did not walk much further when I felt an unusual vibrating sensation on my thigh - my phone. It was 7:40 P.M. and I couldn’t understand why Veer was calling me already. “Veer, I’m almost here.” I barked into the phone’s speaker. “Ahmed, change of plans; I have to go pick up my sister from the airport. It’s my mom’s birthday tomorrow so she wanted to surprise her.” I pulled the phone closer to my ear, if it were possible, and placed a hand over the other. “I am so sorry. I know I had insisted for you to come out today but this was totally unexpected.” He hung up the phone after apologizing once again. I stood there, stunned, for several minutes before the tormenting smell of a leaking sewage pipe compelled me - I don’t know where - to leave. The silence was comforting; all I could hear was the burbling of the river and the distant tintinnabulation of bells. I could see the sparkling buildings on the other bank of the river, the glow of the full moon adding more to its beauty. I came across a familiar brown bench, its rusty smell engulfing me as soon as I sat on it. I remember coming here whenever kids at school called me out for being ‘the only Muslim’ in my class, or because I would pray in a manner which was different than theirs. The knowledge that I could be here myself without being judged or treated like I was an extra-terrestrial being provided me solace. When I reached back home Amma opened the door to let me in. “How was your night?” she asked and I noticed the creasing lines on her forehead. She probably didn’t have dinner yet because she was waiting for me. “It was good, but, right now I'm starving and I can't wait to eat your delicious mutton korma.” I replied. For the first time in a while, I meant the words I said.


"The Wallet" The afternoon rush hour was slower than usual, and as Tina’s mind raced with all that she had left to do before Christmas in two days, she found herself the recipient of a honking pickup truck riding her bumper. “Yeah, I’m moving,” she responded angrily. “Can’t wait a second then, can you?” Glaring at the driver who then passed her with a whoosh in the left-hand lane, she swore under her breath. “Season to be jolly - really?” Continuing her steady but slow trek to her exit, she saw the daylight dim and the dark settle upon the city. Up at dawn in the dark and home early evening in the dark. Was there even an ounce of light in her life anymore? Her apartment was a block away now and Tina sighed heavily in remembrance of all she had left to do this day. She’d pay the sitter, make her son a quick dinner and then see if her mother could watch him again tonight so she might search the department stores for that expensive Dino Dinosaur toy Clay had been begging Santa to bring. All this yet to do, when her only desire was to crawl into her bed and get a good night’s sleep. ‘Oh well’, she moaned, such were the joys of single motherhood. No money, no sleep and work, work, work. Mother came over begrudgingly saying she had a really bad headache and she hoped Clay might go to bed soon. Tina bathed and dressed him in his cute dinosaur pajamas and thanked her mom. Didn’t grandparents want to spend time with their grandchildren? Her mom apparently had too many already and Clay the last one to arrive, probably had not made the grade lately. Digging out her keys and trudging through the gray slush that once was white snow, Tina’s eyes focused on a black blob near her car’s trunk. Kicking it with her foot, she realized it wasn’t trash. When she bent to examine it, she discovered it was a leather wallet. Tina picked it up timidly, and then looked around her. Who might have lost this, she wondered? One of her neighbors? No one was in sight. Unlocking her car and sitting still in the dark vehicle, she turned on the overhead light. Opening the wallet, she saw a driver’s license with a name she did not recognize, a few credit cards and then the cash. Removing the thick wad, Tina’s eyes grew enormous. What? There had to be hundreds here. She counted it then, looking around her and locking her car doors. Whoa! She counted it again. $500.00. $500.00!! Tina sat back and closed her eyes. What a windfall. This could totally make her son’s Christmas so much more thrilling! She could even pay her rent on time and buy that new coat she had eyed recently at the department store. This was a miracle she deserved. Opening her eyes and looking out her window again to see if anyone was around, she started her car. Shopping would not be a pain now. It was such a wonderful turn of fate. She was rich - for an evening anyway. Seeing a nearby McDonalds drive through ahead, Tina made her way to it. Yes, a Big Mac was in order. Her favorite sandwich she rarely had an extra dime for. Opening the wallet to pay for the meal, she was surprised when the teenage girl at the drive-up, pay window smiled and said that the car ahead of her had already paid for her meal. What? “Oh, you know, that thing on the Christian radio,” the young girl said in a sing-song voice. “Bless someone unknown today! Make their Christmas!” Tina’s eyes widened. “Someone already paid for this?” “Yes,” the young girl repeated. “Now, as they say on the radio program, pay it forward!” Tina pulled ahead stunned and retrieved her food from a young man wearing braces. He was smiling broadly, apparently knowing she was the recipient of the previous car owner’s generosity, for he handed her an envelope with her food. As she pulled over to eat the sandwich, Tina shook her head in disbelief. The envelope had an invitation to a local church and wished her a Merry Christmas. “Wow! This certainly is my lucky day,” she said loudly to no one but the car’s interior. “Now for Dino Dinosaur”. The Target parking lot was packed, and she took a deep breath before leaving her car. She had to brave the crowds for Clay and his Christmas. It was only once a year, and now she had the money to buy six Dino Dinosaurs if she chose. Heading into the back of the store where the toy section was located, Tina grimaced. There was one Dino left on the top shelf. As she searched for a clerk to help her retrieve it, she noticed a tall man reach for it. The clerk, who certainly looked unenthusiastic to reach up to the top shelf, shook his head at her, knowing that now he was not needed. The tall man had Dino now in his cart. But Tina was not deterred, replying authoritatively, “I’m sure you have another one of these back in your stockroom. Could you please check? My son has to have this dinosaur for Christmas! Has to!!” The red vested clerk just shook his head and frowned saying, “Sorry, ma’am, it’s a popular item. That was the last one.” Tina stared at the man who was walking to the checkout with the last Dino Dinosaur. Traipsing close behind him she exclaimed, “Sir! Sir, excuse me!” Tina saw the man turn to face her with a quizzical look on his face. “Sir, would you consider selling me that?” The tall man was white haired, bearded and his dark eyes crinkled as he answered, “What young lady? You want to buy this from me? Why, I haven’t even paid for it yet?” Tina blushed and put on her best smile. “Sir, my son is so sure Santa is bringing this to him. I’d pay you double once you purchase to have it!” “Really?” The man stroked his beard and winked at her. “I’m told it is a popular toy so maybe triple would be better. Triple the price, yes, for that price I will sell it to you.” Tina took a deep breath. Triple the price? Well, she now had the money so she could make the deal. “Ah, ok. I’ll meet you at the register. The two walked together and Tina watched the man pay for the toy and his other purchases. As they left the store and stood out front near the big red Target balls, the man handed Tina the bag with Dino in. As Tina began to dig out the money from the black wallet she had found, the elderly man laughed heartily and proclaimed, “Merry Christmas young lady! Consider this a gift from Santa to your son. My grandson will never miss this. I wish you and your son a blessed Christmas day! Remember the reason for the season, will you? The gift at Christmas God gave to us, we can never repay except to bless others.” Tina stood with her mouth open, hanging onto the gift as if it were a precious gem. Really? He was giving this to her? Blinking as she watched him walk away, she grinned profusely. She had Dino. She also had not spent a dime to get him. What? What kind of generosity was this? The reason for the season? She hadn’t thought lately about any reason for this season except the Santa myth. Was there something more she should know about this Christmas season? She watched as the man walked to his car and unlocked it. The car was not a Cadillac or even an SUV, but a dented, black, old model Honda. Looking down at the cement under her feet, Tina felt a tinge of regret in planning on using the black wallet’s money. Shaking her head to rid herself of the guilt, she found her vehicle and got in. “I’ve got Clay’s Christmas!” Driving quickly home, Tina turned on the radio and finally found, after rummaging through the variety of radio channels, a peaceful Christmas song she found herself humming to, “ Away in A Manger ”. She remembered this from her younger days when she and her family attended a church service at Christmas time. Tina had always liked the tune and now she listened to the words a bit more closely. Not paying attention to her speed, she found herself the victim of blue lights flashing brightly behind her. Had she been speeding? She was so overjoyed to have Dino beside her she hadn’t paid much attention to her speedometer. Pulling over as soon as she found a space to do so, she blew out her breath. Guess her Christmas luck was waning. Wonder how much this ticket would be? After handing over her license, insurance and registration to the stern looking officer she heard him say, “Only a warning now, ma’am. Watch your speed please. Want everyone out there to be safe this Christmas.” Tina stared at him for a moment, thanked him and added, “Merry Christmas officer.” Arriving home and relieving her mother, Tina sat quietly in her apartment staring at her small, tabletop Christmas tree. Again, her luck this evening left her speechless. Might she actually be experiencing what Christmas was truly all about? Eventually crawling into her warm, narrow bed that evening, Tina could not fall asleep. The day had been long, and she should be exhausted. Yet, her mind churned with her good fortune today. She hadn’t spent a dime, got a free dinner, obtained Clay’s present and then escaped a speeding fine - not to mention the wallet she had found which still lay in her purse. She tossed and turned, until finally she sat up with a jolt and declared loudly. “You’re better than this! Tina Ledbetter you are better than this! The world is a hard horrible place at times, but you don’t have to be!” Throwing the covers off her nightgown clad self, Tina padded barefoot to the kitchen where her purse lay on the counter. Removing the wallet from her purse she drew out the driver's license and looked at it closely. She didn’t recognize whose picture was there, nor the address, but she would do what she could tomorrow to return this to the rightful owner. Sighing heavily, Tina returned to bed and now slept like a baby. Amazingly, she awoke without the alarm clock ringing and with a contented smile on her face. Today she would do the right thing. Today she would make someone else’s day. It felt wonderful! On her lunch break, Tina walked into the local police precinct and explained to the officer who greeted her why she had come in. The officer took the wallet, located the driver's license and looked up at her after he counted the money it held. “Whew” he exclaimed his eyes wide. “Someone sure must be missing this! Lady, you are certainly a saint to turn this in. Honesty is a rare quality now- a -days. Now if you would please give me your name and contact information, in case the owner wishes to thank you himself, or just in case the wallet is not claimed.” Tina nodded, gave the officer her information and left the precinct with a light heart. Although that money would have done she and Clay a world of good, it just wasn’t right to keep it. The generosity of others last evening had reminded her there was still good in this world. It was refreshing and her spirit soared with the reminder. Christmas morning deemed bright sunshine and a sleepy Tina crawled out of bed to hear the gleeful chattering of Clay in the next room as he discovered Santa had brought his Dino Dinosaur. Stepping out to view Clay’s happiness, she thought of the white bearded man in Target and smiled to herself, wondering how his Christmas morning had turned out. Was his grandson as happy as Clay seemed to be? Walking to Clay’s side, she ruffled his blond curls and sat on the floor near him to watch him play. Finally, she urged him to dress so they might go over to her mother’s house and have brunch with her siblings and their families. Leaving the apartment, Tina found an envelope tacked to her apartment door. As she opened the envelope slowly, curious who might have left this, three green bills fell to her feet with a sticky note, upon which was written “thank you.” Retrieving them from the ground she gasped. Three, crisp one hundred-dollar bills gleamed in her hand. As she and Clay drove to her mother’s home several miles away, Clay asked from the backseat, “Mama, what is Christmas all about anyway? Is it Santa’s birthday?” Tina looked back at her son clutching Dino Dinosaur tightly and said confidently, “Why Clay, it is about being loving, kind and generous to others just as God has been to us today. Christmas is Jesus’ birthday.” Looking back at Clay to see his reaction to her answer, she saw him smile and kiss his Dino on top of his purple head before exclaiming, “Yes, Mama I understand. Then Jesus gave me a present I guess, huh? Santa brought it though, right?” Tina smiled, her three-year-old son was so young, yet she might teach him soon the real meaning they celebrated Christmas. Tina helped her mother serve the brunch and as they all sat down to enjoy the meal, Tina paused and looked around. Her sisters, their husbands and nieces and nephews were digging in hungrily while her mother picked at her food. “I’d like to say a prayer of gratitude, if you can all pause a moment.” Faces looked up and some smiled. Others looked confused. Tina began, “Thank you God for blessing us with this food, family and wonderful Christmas Day. Amen.” Clay smiled at her, his mouth full of food and Dino in his lap with a spot of egg on his purple, Dinosaur head. “Ah mama, that is a nice prayer,” he chirped after swallowing. Later in the kitchen, Tina approached her mom as they looked at the mess of dishes in the sink. “Mom, I have a little something additional for you,” Tina said quietly. Tina’s mother smiled her tired smile and shook her head. “Oh Tina, you already gave me a gift. Why I love the scent of Wind Song! Thank you, you remember I have loved that scent for a long time.” “No, mom. There is something else.” Tina’s mom pulled a face and then shook her head. “I’ve got all I need with my family here today.” Tina stuffed a bill into her mom’s apron pocket and replied, “Yeah, mom. I know you do. Here is a little something extra though for you. I love you, mom. Now you can get that coat you really need.” Tina’s mom retrieved the $100 bill from her apron pocket and stared at her daughter. Her eyes teary, she shook her head slowly. “What? Surely you can use this for Clay or something you need!” “Merry Christmas, mom. Enjoy! I’m headed out to play with the kids.” Tina left her mom staring at the money, her face clouded with doubt. Tina and Clay drove home satiated. Driving a bit below the speed limit and humming to herself, Tina noticed the truck behind her, right on her bumper, until finally it had an open lane to pass her. Rushing by Tina's vehicle, the driver looked at her and gave her a middle finger, mouthing something ugly. Biting her tongue, Tina gave him the peace sign in return and looked at Clay with a smile. “Some folks just need a bit of kindness, Clay. A bit of Christmas spirit today.” Clay nodded and gave Dino a kiss on his purple, fuzzy head.


The Moon Program In July 1969, when man first landed on the moon there was talk of colonizing it immediately. The earth was becoming very overcrowded and the Authorities were looking for different places to stash warm bodies. Years later, the Mars idea surfaced and some people actually signed up to become pioneers or settlers on the Red Planet. Well, that idea fell through and it was back to the original plan to populate the moon. Fifty-one years later from that initial moon landing there was a nasty virus outbreak and a section of the world’s population was decimated. There were still too many people on the planet, but it would take some time to sort things out. A vaccine appeared and it proved to be very, very dangerous. For some reason, the vaccine urged people to commit crimes at a higher than normal rate. Suddenly, the world didn’t have to deal with sickness any more but violent outbursts that brought on a very high rise in homicides. It was impossible to control the chaos and the madness. The craziness that had erupted when the virus first broke out exposed the underlying mental illness that was prevalent in every society in every country across the globe. Then there was another breakthrough. But, it wasn’t some new vaccine; it was the ability to make life sustainable on the moon. The light bulb was turned on so brightly that it nearly burnt out in the Authorities heads. In the beginning, only one person was taken to the moon. The Authorities didn’t want to admit it, but life on the moon wasn’t perfected. There was still some chinks in the hardware that had to be worked out. The one person a year program turned out to be more like a thousand people a day. They simply lied to us and professed that everyone that was picked up were kept in a holding tank. Nobody was allowed to visit their loved ones in this secluded place. Of course, no one believed them. The deception went even farther. The Authorities claimed that there was no jail on the moon but instead a real paradise and one lucky person every year was allowed to stay there. They claimed it was like winning the largest and most prestigious power ball lottery. The violent offenders were taken to the moon on a one way ticket where a vast system of prisons were stationed. It was the perfect solution to the crime problem because escaping was impossible. The space bus brought all the prisoners to the moon, they were jettisoned through a tube into the prison and the vehicle left. If anyone tried to escape since there was no gravity on the moon, they would float out in outer space until they died. How did the prisons not float away? A buoyancy system had been developed and the jails were like floating buildings that would never drift off into the universe. Of course, as it always happens with human nature the rumours of how horrible life on the moon began to circulate. There were tales of cruelty and beatings and horrible conditions that were inhumane. In six months, fourteen million people were shipped out to the moon. Life on earth had begun to settle down and all of the people that had received the vaccine were now mostly extracted. Well, almost all of them. There were a few left the estimates ranged from less than a thousand to maybe five thousand. The vaccine that had appeared was only destined for the worst cases of the virus. Some of the front line health workers received it. As usual, there was some mystery and lies as to whom exactly got the shot. Unfortunately, there was no list made so the Authorities couldn’t know who had been injected. For those that had escaped the brutal non-return ticket to the moon, they walked among the ‘healthy’ citizens. There had been a flood of theories as to what had caused people to grab a hammer and kill their spouses or children or co-workers or neighbours. Like every other similar situation no one could agree on one single factor. The real reason why half the world had gone stark raving mad was still clouded. So far, I had eluded the Authorities. Now, when I mention the Authorities what I am really talking about where the men in the red and white health suits driving around in what was called the ‘Test Mobiles.’ You see, the governments had carte blanche when it came to random testing. Under the law, they had the right -- or their goon squads had the right -- to pick anyone right off of the street if they exhibited any of the signs. So if you were allergic to dust or something else and sneezed or dared to cough when your throat was dry, there was an alert that went off. On a daily basis, people were yanked off the streets and taken to the testing facilities. Only a few were returned and they were so brainwashed that they could not explain what was really going on in the ‘testing facilities.' Like the moon jail, there were also rampant nasty rumours about what exactly happened in those facilities. The thing is when the sickness hit a lot of people lost their jobs. Many of the industries never truly rebounded and a lot of small shop owners went down fighting. There were millions of people unemployed that needed a job. So the government simply hired anyone and everyone to be part of the goon squad. This is why there was a unit at every street corner in every city. It also explains why there were thousands of people picked up on a daily basis to be tested. The numbers were fudged and nobody really knew how many good citizens were complying to do their part to wipe out the virus once and for all. The goon squad moved about in pairs and in nondescript vehicles. There had been news reports about people trying to intervene when someone was innocently swept off the street, but for their efforts the heroes were quickly subdued. The goon squad were armed with highly sensitive tasers. One rumour claimed that they carried disease sticks and if you were hit with that then a person instantly became virus sick. Of course, that only got them a one-way ticket to the moon. The news reports were filled every day of how someone’s spouse or parent or child has been taken away without any explanation. Accusations of racial profiling and vindictive choices spread like wildfire. But, nobody really knew truth from fiction. I didn’t have the virus thanks to the vaccine. I mean it did work but there were some very nasty side affects. There was such a rush to find a cure that researchers in the labs didn’t and couldn’t take their time to do it right. Plus there was real anticipation like the space race during the old days of the cold war for one country to be the first to discover the vaccine. It was like the debate who was going to be the first human to step on the moon back in those heady, hippie days of the late 1960s. There were more than just bragging rights attached to being the first to devise a vaccine that worked. The country that managed to do so had their entire debt and deficit wiped out. Plus, they had exclusive rights and were the only nation on the planet to be able to administer the vaccine. Nobody else held the rights and had the ability to do so. So, whatever country was the first then they had a tremendous amount of power and the chance to make an enormous pile of money. The vaccine was expensive. Nobody was going to take advantage of the rest of the world, but only a fool would give it away. I walked back and forth to work quietly with my mask and gloves on. I was just another lost and lonely soul trying to keep it all together. A couple of times, one of the vehicles had followed me down the street. But, I didn’t flinch and just kept walking pretending that I didn’t know they were watching me. Big Brother was no longer watching; Big Brother was stalking like some midnight rambler striking fear in the hearts of good and honest citizens. Did they have me on the list? There was great debate as to whether there was a list at all. I must confess that when all of this abduction of people to be taken to the moon jail started, I had gone back to the clinic where I was given the vaccine and broken into the lab in the wee hours of the night. As a trained computer programmer, I had no problem breaking into the system and wiping any potential lists that had my name on it. I was pretty sure that the work was done without any one noticing. I was careful to wipe down all prints that could have been left. The camera system had been de-activated upon entering the place. Besides, I wore a bank robber’s mask, not the medically issued ones that were worn on a daily basis. I thought I was safe. But, the paranoia was slowly creeping in. I lived alone. My wife had died of the virus and we didn’t have any children. My sister-in-law attempted to have us move in together, but I never could stand her. She was just looking for someone to take care of things. The sad part was that if she had moved in with me and I had murdered the conniving, annoying bitch, it would have been for insanity reasons like her driving me insane and not because the vaccine had turned me into a homicidal maniac. My work office was sparse and it was a good thing in many ways. There was more room in the fridge. Before, with a full staff, it was nearly impossible to find a spot for your food and if you did some cretin like Fletcher would just steal it. The goon squad had picked him up and taken the fool away. I applauded their move. It was Friday and around lunch time, the Authorities announced the lucky ‘winner’ of the one way ticket to the moon jail, er I mean paradise. It was broadcasted around the world to much pomp and circumstance. I was numb when they announced my name. Everyone in the office applauded sarcastically. The cold-hearted bastards. I was out of there in a flash. Some rat had alerted the Authorities. The vehicle approached me, but I had been planning this for a very long time. My next door neighbour was a kind old man and he had died about two weeks before my wife. I always thought that Mr. Hendricks had given it to her as she tended to him. There was no way of telling. He was a kind, law-abiding citizen and a collector of all types of stuff. I had the pleasure of cleaning out his spacious house when they had shut down the office for a few weeks while the place was being sanitized. The biggest collection that Mr. Hendricks boasted was guns. He loved them and took very good care of each and every weapon owned. So, I was well armed just in case some homicidal maniac came at me. We had been encouraged to be armed, which I thought was strange. When the craziness had broken out and so many went on a murder spree, the Authorities thought it was a good idea to carry a gun. The vehicle stopped and they landed on the ground with authority. But, the guns were blazing before they really knew what was going on. It was one thing to be accused of killing someone when you didn’t, but to be an actual criminal was something else. I hope that my dear Elyse wasn’t watching. I ran and suddenly the entire world seemed to explode right in front of me. There were pairs of goon squads everywhere. “Halt, you are the winner and everything will be okay.” I pulled out the two black beauties and started to shoot. It was chaos on the streets. But, in the end, I was overpowered. So, I won the ‘lottery and I am sitting here in cell #315 in my greys telling you exactly what happened. There was no homicidal outburst on my part. I was just defending myself. There is no right in abduction. There is no paradise on the moon. There is no joy in winning the ‘lottery.’ There is no justice in pulling my name. There is no government conspiracy.


My life is a farce. Just yesterday, my master sends me down to the swamp. He says, swim down to the bottom of the bog. Down there at the bottom, you’ll find a piece of seaweed that feels just a *little* bit different than all the other pieces. Pull that piece. Nothing will seem to happen, but something *will* happen--another piece of seaweed somewhere else will feel different now. So go find that one. And do that until all the pieces feel weird. Then pull all those seaweed pieces out, one by one. Two at a time ain’t no good. Gotta be one by one. Then line ‘em up on the shore. Wait for the hot sun to come out, the one that comes out on Thursdays. We got three suns. Cold sun, Color sun, hot sun. Gotta wait for hot sun. So hot sun comes out, dries out all the seaweed. Now it’s rigid. Except it ain’t brittle like regular seaweed gets when Hot sun does it’s thing to it. It’s fucking hard like a rock. It’s the hardest god damn thing I’ve ever felt. I’m feeling pretty good. So I ask my master, what next. What do I do with this rock hard seaweed. He tells me, okay. So take that seaweed, and you’re gonna weave a basket out of it. A basket. Okay. So a-weaving I go, and I make a nice basket. He says okay. Now buy a hot air balloon. And attach it to the basket. I tell him hey man, I made the basket too small. You didn’t tell me what the basket was for and I made it way too small, there’s no way I can sit in this if it’s a hot air balloon! He says, that’s part of the test. So I buy a hot air balloon. Attach it to this rock hard seaweed basket thing. And he says go up to the ionosphere in this thing. Fine. Okay. I barely know where the ionosphere is but I figure it's upwards. So I stand in the basket, one foot only, that’s all that fits, and I light the flame of the hot air balloon, which is hot as all hell on my head because I can’t sit down, because the basket’s too small, and I ride it up to the ionosphere. It’s starting to get real cold, even with the flame and all from the hot air balloon. I’m getting real worried that the balloon is gonna deflate, because the air’s so cold and thin. The oxygen is hella thin. It's completely inconvenient to breathe, in a way I'm loving roughly 0%. I call my master and I say okay, I’m in the damn ionosphere, what now. I did everything you asked. What do I do. He says okay. He googles something. He’s kind of trying to hide that he’s googling something but I see him do it, it’s facetime and I can see him typing something on his phone with a really puzzled look on his face. So I say it. I don’t care that he’s my master, I let him have it. “Hey man, I see you’re googling shit. You’re just making this up as you go. You don’t have anything to teach me. The only thing you’re teaching me is that you don’t know what the hell you’re doing!” So I say fuck this guy. And I lean to my left and I fall my ass out of the hot air balloon on purpose, and I’m plummeting to earth with my arms folded, because I’m pissed off and I want everyone to know it. I see the earth racing up to meet me. I’m about to hit a rocky outcropping and I’m about to cry, I’m visualizing my body breaking on those rocks and my ribs and my lungs cracking and collapsing and all my blood flying everywhere, and my hands being pulverized to dust and my eyeballs flying out of my skull and going 500 feet, and I’m weeping uncontrollably, the images are flying through my head faster than I’m even falling, and I cry out to god. And I say, “fuck you, you old bastard. You’re gonna make my fucking eyeballs fly out and my knees pop off and my feet explode on this crumby old fucking rock outcropping. You made these rocks and you made gravity and that’s why you’re the dumbest old bitch alive.” And suddenly I stop. I look down. I’m an inch from the rocks, from the rocks that were so sure to end my life, but I’m not falling. I’m levitating. I look up and there’s my master. He’s levitating me. He tells me I passed my final lesson. I was ballsy enough to call him and god a dumb old bitch. And then, I fought him in that rock outcropping, and I kicked his head clean off with my first punch. And that’s how I got to be the proprietor of this dojo here. So it’s 45 dollars for the first month, and then 90 for the rest. Yeah. We send you a bill in the mail and you mail a check. No, I’m sorry, we really don’t do direct deposit. Yeah. Sorry.