(IP) The Horned Menace There were rumors of a creature who terrorized villages, with long, wickedly pointed horns and eyes that glowed like flaming coals. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, but for the claws on its hands and feet. But the whispers were eventually proven true: livestock and crops were dying mysteriously, and more than one villager had disappeared, both in town and within the wood that kept the village hidden. For her part, Flora thought that it was all stuff and nonsense; she was certain that there was a logical explanation for all of these events, and that everyone was just frightened of their own imaginations. She was working in the pub down the street from where she lived, and all everyone would talk about was ‘the horned menace’. The latest person to have disappeared was the town crier, and they’d lost their news in the morning as a result. There was no real proof, but science was foreign to her fellow villagers, especially a girl. *Don’t you have more feminine duties to attend to, Flora? Some mending, perhaps, or needlework? Maybe you’d be better off with your mama, at least until you’re of marrying age.* No matter how many times she said that it was an education she wanted, just like a man, she was always laughed at. Her cheeks were always burning; no one ever took her seriously, saying that her parents had spoiled her beyond measure. An idea formed in Flora’s mind: a crazy, half-formed idea that could pan out or mean her ruin. A soft voice sounded in the back of Flora’s mind. *Ruined? In their eyes, you already are. Where’s the harm in actually giving them something to talk about?* \*\* Her mind made up, Flora counted down the seconds until the sun set, and she was relieved. Slipping a fat sack of coins into her apron, she walked out of the building, going over the things she needed mentally, again and again. *Rope, flint, oil, firewood, a cask of watered wine, a crust of bread, a bit of good, salty cheese. And the heart she would harvest in order to lure the beast into the wood, where she would kill it. She couldn’t let herself think about the outcome.* But it wasn’t the village’s safety that was on Flora’s mind; no, she was braving the night for entirely selfish reasons. And anyway, it was difficult to care for those who’d cared so little for her. She’d been sentenced as odd, strange, an interloper. She would’ve been blind not to see it. She wanted to see if this beast was real, if the whispers of magic gone awry were true, or if the shadows that lurked within people’s minds had somehow been given life. She went back to the hovel that was her home, a ramshackle, decrepit affair. Dimly, Flora found herself wondering if she was going to slay the beast, all to win the approve of people who had never wanted her. But her choice had been made. She would find the truth, no matter the cost.


So here I am at Griffin High , It is the best school in North West ... It's quite cold today , could be my own bad fate just show casing itself very much into the climate . Here's what I am thinking as I walk into the school's corridor "Everyone has forgotten, Everyone has forgotten..." " Wrong! " No one will ever forget that I ruined Jessica Parker 's party . So here is what happened ... *** It's been a week since I was enrolled into Griffin High. I just moved here with my mom and dad. I was raised by the most loveliest interracial couple ; mom is originally from Uganda and dad is the most English guy that you could ever meet . She and dad met when he was doing a tour around all the African countries. They fell inlove and you know what happens when two people fall inlove ? I happened! I had lived all life in South Africa until last month dad said, " We need a change " . I was home schooled up until now so it's my first high school and I am going to make the most of it . " Hey Laura " , said Jessica. "Hey " , I said. Okay so that was Jessica and she is plastic . Nope , her heart is. "Coming to pep rally ? " "Yah sure . I guess. " I know she's upset with me because I took her sister's spot in the cheer team. You don't just take the Parker sisters place just like that especially when it comes to the cheer team. If you wanna be popular everyone knows that you gotta make friends with the Parker sisters and here I am making enemies with the goddesses. We were sitting at pep rally when the weirdest thing happened , Jessica walked up to and . "You are invited ." "To what? " "Check your Instagram messages. Don't be late. " "I won't. " Oh my word ! I have been invited to Jessica Parker 's party. The party was starting at 6pm but everybody knows that high school parties start much earlier and end pretty much late. I had told mom about the party before hand so that we could go shopping . I knew that i looked cute. When I got to the party I could swear that there were mostly seniors there. I immediately noticed Nora . She and I are in the school's newspaper club. She's a bit odd. Jessica had asked me not to talk to her. I don't know why but Jessica just says weird nonsense all the time. I mean how can I not speak to Nora , she was the first person to speak to me on my first day . " Hey Laura . You're looking cute. ( We kiss on the cheeks) ". "Thanks . You too ." "Can I get you anything? Maybe some punch. " , said Nora. "Maybe some punch. I don't really drink. " From nowhere comes this guy who decides to put his hand on my waist. "Hey sweet cheeks never seen you around here before. " (Me proceeds to remove his hand around my waist ). " I'm new ." , I said. " Hey Laura ! Having any fun yet? " "Not yet (I chuckeld "fakingly)" "Hey Boris leave Laura alone she's here to have a good time " , said Jessica "I can show her a good time!" I decided to exit the scene for some air and maybe look for Nora when suddenly I noticed... Jessica's room. I never snoop but I haven't had a good feeling about her so who cares ? No one. "Give me more please ! Please ! ." , said some girl inside . It wasn't a good tone It sounded like she was moaning and begging . I decided to peep . Was that marijuana and cocaine that I just saw ? Yes ! Oh my word ! There's possession of drugs in the Parker 's home. I need to find Jessica . I began looking for her in her million dollar mansion. This is gonna be hard because there are about hundreds of students inside partying. It wasn't all that I saw. While looking for her I came across the pool. The students were exchanging drugs , I even saw one of the students drug a young girl's drink , possibly Jessica's sister. "Hey stop it ! Leave her alone ." "Hery don't be such a party pooper. NOBODY LIKES A PARTY POOPER! " "Jessica! Where's this girl? ". I just kept screaming but it was pointless. Never in my life had I encounted such a moment where I had felt like my eardrums where about to drop. Except for when I listen to loud music whilst trying to ignore mom who always gives me endless chores. Every one began throwing up and from then onwards things became much worse. The neighbours rang Jessica's doorbell. I was the one who opened. "Where's Jessica ? " "I don't know ma'am. " "Keep the volume down or else I will be calling tge c cops! " " That won't be necessary ma'am . " I don't know where Jessica is. This party is getting out of control. These seniors were breaking everything. People where having sex everywhere...I know right . I am not used to seeing all this. I went up stairs and honestly I was shook. Jessica Parker the dictator of my life for the past week was lying around bags of cocaine and there was money everywhere. Now I don't know what to say or think. I ran down stairs immediately. "Watch out Laura! " screamed Nora . "Sorry! I gotta go home ." Something just ate me up . A sick feeling overwhelmed me. Nora was almost fully undressed. "Wanna join me Laura ? We could use a hand . " I wanted to cry so badly . Was this what high school was all about. I decided to call my mother and I did. "Mom ...I am in trouble please come" " I am on my way sweetie!" When my mom had gotten to Jessica 's door she arrived with the cops. I began to feel angry , scared... Why did she call the cops. The police quickly raided the house. The seniors and juniors began to fled like mice . Great stuff! I am officially a nerd. Behold of the girl who decided to call her mom who called the cops to raid a high school party. What a bummer ! Since then I haven't heard from Jessica or anyone after the party. And by the way no one speaks to me anymore as if I had many friends to start of before.


It had been hours since Hurricane James rumbled through the northeastern part of Florida. They said it would only come down as a Category 3; it was like overnight a demon had taken control of the storm, making it a Category 5 when it touched. If you’re from Florida, you would know a Cat 5 is the only category of Hurricanes that would make even the most stubborn of us leave. We’re told that we can better prepare for a big storm with all this new technology and take the proper measures days ahead of time. They don’t prepare you for when mother nature takes over with all her power and fiery. We live on the northside of Jacksonville, away from the coast, we are usually the last to evacuate. When the report came out that James was coming in as a Cat 5, we were all asleep. It wasn’t until 5 AM that the wind really started picking up. Our family woke up to the sound of our roof being taken off. The worst part didn’t last long, and the roof and a part of the garage took the worst damage. No radio, no power, no water. We did have our cellphones, but the rest of the city was in chaos, and we had our own stuff to deal with. “Well, what do we do now?” asked my mother, Lydia. Dad answered back, “We have no roof; all we can do is grab the tents we have and set up camp in the back.” We lived on 2 acres of woodland on a dirt road- we would be the last to get power in any situation. Growing up, our dad went camping every other weekend with his parents. It wasn’t until our Grandpa Randy died 5 years ago that he stopped taking us. Camping was a huge event to Grandpa Randy, and our dad hasn’t looked at it the same since his passing. My sister Andrea and I walked through the beaten house to the back closet, where we had 2 tents stashed. “It’s been years since we even touched these things; I hope this doesn’t make dad go into his dark place again.”, The dark place is what we called the phase of life our dad went through after grandpa passed. He was withdrawn from our family for months, it felt like, not even being able to face us at dinner. Here we are now with a broken home, our city full of destruction, and having to live in our backyard because of it. We walked outside to see our backyard in shreds. Trees that had snapped and flew across the yard in the wind, our entire back patio had also taken a huge hit. Our family house was no longer the same one we went to sleep in the night before. Andrea and I started to set up tents in the corner of our yard where the earth had been spared. Our mom walked out to see how things were going, “Your dad just got off the phone with the power company. It could be weeks”. Andrea looked at me and then back at mom, “Are we supposed to live in our backyard until that happens? What will we do for food? Or for water? Or heck, even a shower!?” “We will figure that part out,” mom said. I continued to set up the tent while they went back and forth. I wasn’t worried about camping out back. I thought it could be a great adventure for us. I was concerned about dad; camping brought up emotions in him that he tries hard to suppress. It took us about 30 minutes to set both tents up. Mom and Andrea walked the property, picking up small limbs so that we could build a fire. The rain from the hurricane subsided and nothing was left of the storm except for the damaged path it left. I walked around the house until I saw dad in what used to be my parent’s room, sitting with his back against the wall. “Gian, why don’t you go back outside and help your mom and ‘Drea?”. My dad looked at me with pain in his eyes. “I just wanted to see how you were holding up. The house will get fixed with insurance, y’ know. Camping out back will be great, don’t you think?”. My dad looked at me with his sad eyes, “I guess you know why I’m in here all depressed, huh? Camping makes me miss Grandpa too much”. We sat and talked for a while about how Grandpa Randy made them catch their own dinner, or how he could always find the best fishing spots on the campsite, so dinner usually wasn’t a problem finding. After what felt like an hour, Andrea came in and asked us to come outside. Mom was standing by the two tents with a small fire, tiki torches left untouched by the storm all around the tents, and dad’s old fishing pole in her hand. The look of sadness in my dad quickly turned to gratitude for what my mom and sister had done. “This looks great, Lydia, where did you even find that fishing pole?” mom replied, “When we were rummaging around in the garage for the torch fluid and saw it sticking out of some debris, Andrea searched under piles of stuff for your tackle box, and we rigged it up for you too.” Dad walked over to my mom and gave her a huge hug and took the pole. “Let’s go, Gian, we have dinner to catch.” My dad and I walked down and through the woods to find the pond behind our property. I could tell he felt lighter and the burdens that were weighing on him earlier went into the back of his mind. When we reached the pond we walked around until he felt he had the right spot. He cast his lure into the creek, and we sat while waiting for a bite. “Grandpa used to catch fish with a piece of bread, I don’t know how he did it, he was a true angler.” He said that as his line started jerking. He stood up, locked the fish in, and started slowly reeling it in. At the end of the hook was a catfish. My dad was great at handling Catfish. We used to catch them by the pounds for family fish fries. We sat and fished for about two hours. Six Catfish later, we make our way back to the house. Mom still has the fire going while Andrea is walking the yard again for extra wood. Dad gets to work preparing the Catfish while I round up some kitchen utensils from the house. That night we ate catfish dad cooked on the fire, a can of green beans from our emergency stash, and drank some warm beer we also had stashed. We talked all night about dad and grandpa's adventures and how much we all missed him. The next day dad charged up his phone to see what was going on for storm control. Me, mom, and Andrea were sitting around the tents waiting to see how the rest of their city took the storm. Dad came back after making a few phone calls and told us that James had touched down with 170 mph winds. Tornados roared through the inner city and tore down multiple buildings, houses, and apartment complexes. "We got lucky. The neighbors a few miles up the road lost everything. Grandpa Randy was looking over us". The next week we spent every morning and every evening catching Catfish, sitting by the fire, and bonded for the first time as a family in a long time. My dad brought up Grandpa Randy with ease and thanked him every day for protecting us in the best way he could. After the worst of the storm damage was cleaned up, we could go into town and get food for different meals. We decided to camp outside for an entire month while waiting for word on how the house would be fixed. Hurricane James changed our lives, but we will never forget the experience.


(WP) Between a Rock and a Hard Place After all these years of wondering, it was time to go find her people. The humans had been quite kind, and had raised her as their own. But all her life, she’d known that something was wrong. Not wrong, per se, but something was... different. Even as a child she’d known. She was taller than all the rest of the kids in her classes, she was absurdly, impossibly strong, could run long distances in just a few strides, and she loved to garden and be around plants and flowers. One night at dinner, she and her parents were mostly quiet, until, at last, she couldn’t take it anymore. She dropped her silverware on the plate, and the loud clang made her mother jump. “Rose, what is it?” Her mother asked, her brow furrowing with worry. “Is something on your mind?” “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, Mom,” Rose said, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “And... I have some questions.” Her dad frowned silently, sitting up straighter in his seat. “We’ve always known this day would come, since we adopted you.” He murmured quietly. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that his eyes were glimmering with tears; it jolted her. Was she somehow violating everything that her parents had done for her, by being curious about her biological parents? The last thing Rose wanted to do was offend them, or make them think that she was ungrateful. She was happy with her life, despite her differences between herself and the humans. She had a loving family, had good grades, had won a full ride to one of the best colleges in the country on a track scholarship. She had friends, and she was even harboring a crush on a girl in her class. But there was a distinct void in her heart, the dark part that wondered where she had come from. From who she had come. She had wrestled with these questions, late into the night, since they’d told her that she was adopted. And it had felt like she was running in circles, endlessly. “I mean... Is this okay? Is this... Normal?” Rose asked, staring at her plate, wishing that she could push away from the table and flee to her room. But she’d started this conversation, and it was too late to turn back now. Besides, didn’t she deserve some answers? “Of course, it is, honey!” Her mother said, her voice thick with unshed tears. Her father, for his part, looked as though he was holding something back, like if he didn’t speak, he would explode. “Rose, you’re a giant. Well. A half giant? Your dad was a giant and his wife was human. And the giants demanded that you live with the humans, because you weren’t full human or giant.” \*\* Rose stared at her parents in shock. Of all things she’d thought they’d say, that was the furthest thing from her mind. Mom was staring at her, holding her hand and rubbing her back as if she was frightened her daughter would start screaming. “I’m a giant? A giant? Those don’t even exist! This isn’t a fairy tale!” Rose spluttered. “Sweetheart, you came from a fairy tale and your mother gave us to you to make sure you’d have a happy ending, even if she couldn’t.” Her father said sadly.


Hey. First post ever on Reddit, maybe you can relate. Non-native speaker...etc. etc. Edit: Changed some format stuff so it's easier to read... **Meeting with myself** Eyes. Open up. I can’t sleep. Get out. Coat, keys, phone, tying shoes, been quite a while since I’ve done that, takes me longer than most, tying a knot, loop and the other one. Could’ve learned that way sooner if some people cared. Thumb. Okay, I’m ready. Sorry to keep you waiting, please stay with me. I try going downstairs quietly and opening the door. Locked. Two times. Whoever does that is mad. Get out. I lock the door behind me. Good. Breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. I feel cold. I feel the cold air around my wrists and my legs. I get cold fast when I’m outside at night, but that’s okay. It’s good. Again. In and out. Stay calm. Isn’t even that difficult, is it? I still can not think clearly though. The sky looks nice. I see the stars. I don’t know what I should think about the stars. They look nice. Scary, too. Often I imagine how they explode. I really have no idea what’s wrong with me this time. Don’t forget to breathe slowly. You know, at some point it really sucks that you have to freeze yourself to death only to calm down. To stop the spasms, because your mind is too weak. And if you don’t even know what tipped you off this time again, I don’t know, sucks. I hate it. Okay, last time. Breathe in and out. Can’t go back yet. Down to the lake. Hey. Hey. What’s your name? Not in the mood, sorry. I’ll go soon enough anyways. Not in the mood, either. Just wanted to go breathing. Fag? I don’t smoke. Me neither. Only when I’m down. Almost tried though. My fingers are freezing, shit. Why didn't you? I thought you'd go soon anyways. Yea. So? Nevermind. Had a good help. Helped me out with a few things. Me too. Still went back. I know. We're having difficulties breathing, remember. What happened? Thought about love. Cute. Doesn’t matter. Yes it does. Else you wouldn’t sit here. You? Saw too much in someone. He doesn’t love you? Yea. He knows I do though. Again? Yea. Happens a lot to me, too. You seem like it. What’s your name? Elena. Chris. What is love? Baby don’t... What is love? I don’t know, okay. Why does nobody love us? Chance. Never. It is. Definitely not. Look, we are funny, we are emotional, we don’t look like complete shits, sure. So why does nobody love us? We need too much affection. Or it’s chance. Are you sure? No. It’s unfair. It is. But we don’t do very much against that, either. Stars are scary. Plus one. Romantic. We can’t. Don’t say things like that. We can’t. Why? You know. Too similar. Yes. Too similar. I just want someone I can love with all of my heart and someone who loves me back with all of his heart. Is it that difficult? What am I doing wrong? Why are all people getting the love I don’t get?! All of them are so happy without me. All of them know how to be happy. I’m not being loved. I could love you. We’ve been there already. Don’t you want to be loved? I do. But we can’t. I know. I. You okay now? My hands seem to be dead now. Thank you. Sorry. I wish I had someone like you. Me too. I do love you, okay, just not the way we need it. Me too. Thank you for staying with me. And tomorrow? Will you have one again tomorrow? What? Attack. I don’t know. Me neither. When does that ever happen? Happened tonight. Yea. But not again. Not at the same time. One can hope. Don’t. I don’t want to go. Me neither. So? Don’t stay longer than you have to. We are strong. I know. Breathe. Thank you. Thank you. Goodbye.


The events of the night were coming back to him slowly--a kaleidoscope of fragmented memories and blurry visions furiously shifting, rearranging, and merging to form a rough timeline. Had he broken free in time? Why couldn’t he feel his legs? The memories were fuzzy and distant, yet in a very surreal way, they were visceral and blinding. Ah, yes--that’s right. He was out searching for something. Was he hunting? No, he was searching for it . And he encountered it. It was rumored to appear at the heart of the ancient, whispering forest during the first full moon of the new season, its arrival shrouded in mystery and expectation. But to what end? No one knew for certain. Speculations by the nearby townsfolk oscillated between a malevolent trap and a generous opportunity, each tale more tantalizing and terrifying than the last. Though many wondered, few possessed the courage to seek it, undeterred by the provocative, bone-chilling tales of its survivors. For it was more than a simple rumor; it was a Seductress--a spirit cloaked in ethereal beauty, blessed with the gift of divine insight but cursed with a ravenous appetite for human consciousness. Its form was a mesmerizing fusion of light and shadow, shimmering with an otherworldly glow that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the forest itself. Its eyes, deep pools of starlit wisdom, beckoned and ensnared. To gaze upon it was to surrender to its majestic will, to be drawn into its orbit with little hope of escape. If one could toe the line of seeking holy counsel with this celestial being--engaged in a whimsical, hypnotic dance, the price of said counsel--without pushing their body beyond the point of death by complete exhaustion, they would return with a new perspective and wisdom beyond their years. If one could toe the line. Many who sought the spirit were often scholars and theologians, shamans and scientists, lured into its domain by its reputation for prophetic accuracy. Others, the majority, were laypeople, seeking self-righteous glory or perhaps even to challenge the being. He, however, was a different breed. A man of wealth and privilege, he had been born into a life of comfort, his every need met with the snap of his fingers. Yet, this life of abundance left him hollow, yearning for something more, something beyond the tangible luxuries and social accolades. He fell somewhere in between these seekers, among the crowd of those whose hearts yearned for the relief of understanding, led into the trees by that same troublesome curiosity that drove all who dared to stand before the elusive spirit. This insatiable desire for deeper meaning gnawed at his soul, propelling him in search of answers only God could provide. But God would not be so easily found. His search lasted for hours. No, all night, was it? He remembered. The moon had risen, peaked, and just begun its descent. Leads led to dead ends, and suspicious sounds revealed themselves to be mere nightcrawlers. His eyes were growing heavy, and his attention drifted from his task to his conundrum--that nagging, unanswered question burned a hole in the recesses of his mind. He would not leave empty-handed. Dance with me. Then, his feet were shuffling across the moss, his head bobbing, his arms swaying through the midnight air. He was unsure when it happened, but he was not alone. The moonlight cast both their silhouettes across the thick tree trunks. What could a man like you possibly need from a thing like me? “Spirit,” he lauded, “I seek your wisdom.” That much is obvious . The words blared directly into his mind, perhaps even his soul. Its voice was no voice at all, rather pure intent originating from nowhere. The only sounds his ears could make out were the staccato snaps of twigs under his jostling feet and the deepening heaves of his own breath. To what end? He remembered trying to quiet the commotion in his mind, to be fully present in this once-in-a-lifetime moment. But he had been chosen by the deity of his people. How could he possibly? “What is the purpose of this life,” the words leapt from his mouth just as he had rehearsed. To live. That answer stunned him, his racing mind ignoring the burning in his calves to focus on the deeper meaning behind such a trite response. “Yes, but surely there’s more?” More to life than living? Their movement had drawn a crowd. Tiny eyes perched high on tree branches, hidden within the safety of bushes, and peeking through obscure burrows watched as his sweat-drenched body flung itself in circles. The burning had spread to his thighs, creating a stiffness in his lower back. His shoulders also labored to keep up with the increasing tempo of the Spirit’s whimsy, but he paid this no mind. Yes of course, there had to be more to life than simply existing. Why wouldn’t there be? “What else would drive men to conquer their environment or sail the seas?” Had he thought that last question or spoken it? So, you seek to know about the curious nature of humankind? Is that why you’ve come? “No, I apologize. Perhaps I have not been clear. What is the purpose of my life?” Your purpose is to live. Much of the night was still shrouded in a murky haze, fragments of memories slipping through his mind like sand through fingers. He knew, however, that this was when his recollections began to fray and unravel. Time had lost all meaning. No longer was he merely tiptoeing across the forest floor; Instead, he was pirouetting through the foggy, moonlit air. His body groaned uncontrollably, levitated by the Seductress's pure will. What had once been a graceful dance had reduced to a spasmodic, desperate scuttle. His arms flailed and twitched, as though conducting a symphony of madness. Frustration mounted within him, boiling over with every passing moment, for it seemed impossible to articulate his innermost desires and fears. Words eluded him, slipping away just as he grasped at them. Say what you mean, human. It was as though his thoughts were no longer private. “Why am I not satisfied,” his soul demanded, for his throat was too parched to form the words aloud. “Mine is a life that most men would envy. I have a flock of 10,000 sheep grazing the richest pastures and 5,000 oxen plowing fields of abundance. I possess more gold than I know what to do with, glittering in my coffers, and my businesses thrive beyond measure. My wives have borne me many sons, all healthy and strong, their laughter filling our halls. I sit upon the council of the chief himself, his ear mine to influence, his decisions swayed by my counsel.” The night air seemed to mock his anguish, echoing his spasms, but still, he did not relent. “And yet, it is not enough. Please, Spirit,” he implored, gazing into the Seductress’s inscrutable eyes, “when will it be enough? There must be more to my life than this.” The muscles in his legs and arms locked in agony, his lungs dry-heaving for whatever last few vestiges of air they could muster. But the spirit merely returned his gaze with a detached stare. As I've said, it's in your nature to be plagued by insatiable curiosity, a restless yearning that drives your kind to explore the unknown. You speak of conquering environments and sailing seas. Yet here you are, driven by that same thirst for understanding, for meaning. The vision was slowly fading from his eyes, but the sight of the indifferent, unyielding Seductress remained hauntingly clear. Here you are, risking this enviable life of yours to ask me a question that I have answered twice now. Yes, there is more to your existence than those transient things. He fought to understand, to feel the truth in what it was telling him, to decipher its riddles--when suddenly, understanding washed over him. It was clearer than it had ever been, and perhaps even more obvious than he expected. Of course there was more to this life, “but only if I live to experience it.”


“That’s it! This is the last time I’m smoking that stuff!” screamed Mikayla as she burst into her dorm room. In front of her lay three sets of blank white, terrified faces. The bloodshot in their eyes was as red as the exit sign behind Mikayla in the hallway. The three girls dressed in mismatched sweats and baggy t-shirts from Universities they have never visited before and likely will never go to, sat there guiltily on various chairs and bunks as Mikayla exclaimed. “I can’t even throw these pizza boxes away without feeling like I have the eyes of every soul on campus staring at me while I walk out back to the dumpster”, Mikayla expressed. Once the girls realized it was their responsible friend who was coming through the door with such force and not an overly suspicious resident assistant with an army of campus safety officers they were able to breathe again. “Well maybe if you didn’t look like a bum dumpster diving in the back of the dorm at 1:00am, maybe people wouldn’t be so alarmed by your presence”, chimed Mikayla’s roommate and close friend Gracie in her regular sarcastic tone. Gracie grew up in a privileged family in an upper-middle-class suburbia with no concept of struggles. Regardless, she acts like she’s been through it all because she has two older brothers who would constantly tease her and call her Bracie since she required 6 years of consistent trips to the orthodontist to correct her teeth. Mikayla rolled her bloodshot eyes as she was already used to Gracie’s comments. For the past year, she has been dealing with them on an unrelenting basis as the two have been practically inseparable since they met in their first year of college. “Anyway, do you guys want to watch something?” asked Mikayla trying to ignore her paranoia. “We’re watching You ”, said the three girls collectively in excitement which seemed almost scripted. “Whoa whoa now, I did not like that! Did you not see how freaked out I was just two seconds ago?”, Mikayla asked with a look of slight fear that had some truth behind it. “We’re talking about the Netflix show you tweaker, we decided as a group while you were gone, just take a deep breath no one’s watching you”, said Mikayla’s friend Sammie. “Yeah, you’re not pretty enough” snarked Gracie. Mikayla rolled her eyes yet again and brushed it off. She knew Gracie well enough at this point to know she was kidding and that she just likes knowing she can snap back quickly if she needs to have someone’s back. She was a good friend, loyal and trustworthy, but wow she could be a lot to handle. “Sammie, did you three plan that little trick, or did some evil stars align tonight to not let me fall asleep?” Mikayla questioned. She always went to Sammie when she needed a straight answer from her friends. Sammie was a naturally smart girl who almost seemed like a television character in the way she was always dependable using logic and experience to get through life. Her first-year roommate left the school after only 6 weeks and was able to quickly hit it off with Mikayla and join the group with ease. “No I wish!”, she shouted. “I don’t think any of us are thinking straight enough to come up with anything like that. Maybe it’s a sign that you are being watched”, she said as she fluttered her fingers in front of her face, clearly trying to get Mikayla riled up. “Did you see that?” Erin cried with fear as she pulled the blinds on the window and pointed outward. Mikayla’s heart basically stopped at that moment, this was all too much for her to take in at this point. She sat down pushing her face into her hands pleading to make all these feelings go away. “Got yaaa”, Erin said toyingly. She was the friend in the group who everyone loves, but the term ditzy is a vast understatement. The type where the room can turn in synchronicity with the collective thought of “there’s no way that girl just asked that” after asking something she felt was a valid question. “We’re just teasing you, Mikayla, it’s all jokes, you know that. Now everyone shut up so we can watch this” commanded Gracie. The girls sat and watched, but did not make it very far into the show. Erin fell asleep within minutes, followed by Gracie who made it maybe 20 minutes, and finally Sammie shortly after. Mikayla paused the show to go to the bathroom and turned at each one of her friends now realizing they were going to have to restart the show another time as they were all sound asleep. As Mikayla stepped into the hallway she was briefly stunned by the seemingly bright lights which would feel normal had she not crawled out of the pitch-black cave her friends were asleep in. Having lived in this room for two months she obviously was aware of the communal bathroom location being to the left down the hall, however, given she was still under the influence she mistakenly went right out of her room. The building was a large square with rooms on both sides of the hall and a courtyard in the center where ecology students would test soils, beautiful flowers, and other various plants; students of other disciplines would sit and study with weather permitting. The stairs to the emergency exit were located at the end of the hall in the direction she was walking, the same stairs that she took to throw away the pizza boxes. “ Thump, thump, thump ”, Mikayla heard from the stairwell. She immediately averted her attention to the beige, metal door to the stairs. Specifically, the small square window with metal wiring laced through it as if that serves as some sort of security blanket. She caught what she thought was a shadow against the dusty white wall on the other side of the stairs. “What am I doing?” she asked herself as she snapped back into focus and realized she was walking in the wrong direction. Now much more cognitively aware of her surroundings after her brief scare. “I really need to stop smoking that stuff”, she told herself knowing she actually meant it this time. She turned around and headed in the correct direction towards the bathroom, listening more carefully now to her environment, but heard nothing. Before leaving the bathroom she splashed water onto her face and had never felt more refreshed. She caught a glimpse of her bloodshot red eyes as she dragged her fingers from her forehead down her cheeks just below her jawline. “Why do you always tweak so much?” she questioned herself. She knew the answer to this. Sober or not she was always questioning what was going on around her, worrying for no reason, and always going to the worst-case scenario. She thinks it’s in part due to her parents growing up always worrying about how to pay the bills even though in her eyes she was always able to get or do whatever she dreamed. This was hard for her to understand, their constant worry, everything always seemed fine to her. If anything she viewed herself as being more skeptical of others than having paranoia. Just then she heard the creak of the bathroom door open and for the third time in the last hour her heart skipped a beat and she struggled to take in air. “Are you okay?” asked the girl who just came through the door realizing how shaken up Mikayla was. “Ye-yeah, sorry you just startled me”, Mikayla managed to get out before heading toward the door realizing how long she had just been staring into herself through the bathroom mirror. She didn’t know the girl's name but had seen her around the floor plenty and knew she was not a threat. She turned the corner and started towards her dorm room, but through the film of her dry eyes, she saw something. She quickly rubbed her eyes, putting all of her focus into the small square window to the stairwell which seems to be stretched miles down the hall. At that moment she felt like she did just seconds ago in the bathroom. That someone was staring into her. Terrified, knowing that her dorm room was in the direction of the figure staring at her through the glass, she turned and bolted back toward the bathroom. Behind her, she could hear fumbling of the door knob followed by the asymmetric thumping of footsteps growing louder, almost as though they were displaying a poor attempt at galloping. She breached the bathroom door like a SWAT team and quickly shut it behind her as she slid her back down the door, her hands falling into her knees. “Alright now are you okay?’ the girl asked as she was standing at the sink washing her hands. At that moment the girl had the same expression of fear as Mikayla did a minute prior when she first entered the bathroom. Before Mikayla could gather the composure to answer she was jolted forward by the force of the door. This brought her to her hands and knees, but her feet still blocked the door. Again, a push at the door, this time with less force, and Mikayla was able to keep it closed. The girl at the sink was able to catch sight of the intruder through the mirror. “What are you doing? Open the door!” the girl exclaimed. Skeptical of the command, as always, Mikayla felt fear for her life but at that moment realized she had no other choice but to move out of the way. To her, this may be the end, but still, she removed herself as the human barricade just before the door swung open for the third attempt. Mikayla’s fear dissipated as she saw a girl in black jeans and a gray cropped t-shirt dive headfirst into a bathroom stall. Mikayla heard the splash into the toilet water and was thankful the girl was able to make it through all the obstacles Mikayla threw at her. “You need help”, the first girl said to Mikayla as she strutted out of the bathroom. Mikayla, now sitting on the bathroom floor with her arms looped around her knees, thought about what she just heard. The whole situation was ironic. Telling her she needed help just to leave a room that contained two different girls obviously struggling in their own ways. In this moment she realized that she wasn’t just tweaking, being skeptical, or distrusting all along. We are all constantly being watched by those around us, perfect strangers see us at our best and worst moments. They pass judgment, as it is the normal human thing to do, but it takes a special connection to break down those walls. She thought back to her friends sleeping in her room. Gracie, Sammie, and Erin are all different in their own ways, but all there for each other at a moment's notice. She wondered if they would be friends had they met under different circumstances. If their first impression of each other was at their worst moments, would things be the same? The fact is we’re constantly being watched and analyzed, expected to be our best when we all know that's an impossible standard to meet. We think we’re better than others going through pain and struggles and envy those who seem to have it all. There’s nothing human about being at the top of your game every second of every day. If you are, you’re only experiencing half of what life has to offer. Just then Mikayla came back to Earth and snapped out of her trance. Recognizing the situation she stood up off the floor and walked towards the occupied stall, door wide open. “How can I help you?”, Mikayla asked. “C-can you- p-please text my roommate?”, she struggled to get out between the dry heaves. Mikayla grabbed the girl's phone out of her back pocket and held the face ID over the girl's face above the cloudy toilet water and found the most recent text conversation with the contact name Roomieee with a heart emoji next to it and alerted the girl’s friend of her location. Mikayla sat there with her until the girl’s roommate came and took over. Mikayla walked back to her dorm room, more aware of her surroundings now than earlier in the night. She saw no face looking back at her in the stairwell window, and heard no suspicious sounds. Just the silence of the night and the occasional dry heave from the bathroom behind her. She opened the door to her friends still asleep and laid down in her bed. “Yeah, I’m done smoking that stuff.”, she whispered to herself before closing her eyes for the night.


When I'm watching TV, in the small home we shared, I look at the window to see you standing there. So, I close the blinds, because I'd rather be blind than to see the reflection of the man who died. I watch and I watch the screen full of colours until I don't know what I'm seeing, then I watch some more. But I never turn it off because the image I'd see, reflected at me, is worse than white noise on the TV. When the sky cries onto the earth, I see you in the reflection of mucky puddles. So, I splash in them until your face ripples away. I never cry on rainy days. I avoid mirrors like a sickness because I know what I'll see. I don't like dry-heaving at a mirage of you and me. But today, I must. I'm preparing for my date. The first since you left. And when I look in the mirror to adjust the silk of my dress, I pretend I don't see you standing there, behind me. Your pitch-black locks shift when you shake your head. Something on your face crackles with hatred. And my chest starts to quiver when you bring your hands forth. They clasp around my waist. The warmth seeps through my clothes. You brush my brown hair behind my ear, then you bring your torso near. I tense and wait for the words to be said--the ones you never really spoke out loud, but somehow managed to lodge in my head. Heat engulfs me when you finally speak. How could you? I thought you loved me. My stomach sinks with the weight of those words. Your gaze might as well be that of a feline's, sharp and calculating. And I'm the hunt that ran away, unsatisfied. I try not to feel like a piece of meat, giving herself over to another lion's pride. As the second-hand ticks away on my watch, unbearably loud in the quiet of our room, I realize it's the timepiece you gave me on our first anniversary. When I look into the glass, all I can see is a face that doesn't belong to the little clock or me. I unclasp it from my wrist and set it down on our cabinet. Then, I think again and shove it deep into the third drawer, where I can't reach it easily. I don't need your little brown eyes watching me flirt and smile, twirling my hair as I stare into the eyes of another man. I don't need the judgement that comes along with wearing you on my hand. And with that thought, I look down to my trembling fist and see the golden little band that chokes me where it sits. It once played a tune of unity and love. Now it wails the sombre chords of a woman who is stuck. This I cannot stand, so I rip it off like it burns me, clattering to the dresser with a sizzling smack. I see your eyes in the mirror, offended at my heartless deed, enough to make my reflection crack. Even still, when bitterness contorts you, your skin glows like it did (before the cancer took your warmth away and made you grim and thin). And it hurts. Oh dear, how it hurts. We didn't have children like you wanted to. You never finished school. None of this is fair. We didn't go on our honeymoon because the money just wasn't there. Our bedsheets don't smell like you, they've been washed too many times. I still have your cologne that smells like cedarwood and lime. Spraying it now seems like a sin like I'm doing something wrong. But it was you with the transgressions that spewed an aching on my heart. When you lied and told me that you would always stay, said you'd never leave me until I finally said okay. But your body told the truth, opposed what your pretty words did not convey. With a green face and pale skin, you took my hand in yours, shifted closer so I felt exactly how you mourned. The contrast of our hands convinced me of the heartbreak held in your sickness and in my health, in life and in death. Since that moment I've been holding my breath. You said: When the cold cocoons it The bare branch with no leaves It leaves you a promise Of return in the breeze How weird...my hand. There's a trickling feel on my skin where a streak of redness trails. From my knuckles to my wrist, to my elbow when I twist. The blood reminds me again how stupidly human I am. How emotions can control me and make me do senseless things, like smash a mirror into bits just because I'm pissed. I stumble to the washroom, cupping a hand under the blood, so none of it stains the carpet you always helped me scrub. This time, I won't smash the mirror, even when you follow me. Turning the sink's handle is more difficult than I thought it would be. But when I lift my head to see you once more, you turn the water on for me, making sure it isn't too cold. Regardless, I shiver, because a warm, familiar, and safe arm cradles mine. And a flash of a memory sickens me. Then, I start to cry. Your hand scrubs my blood down into the drain. And I'm drained of all sanity when I feel the pain. Where each cut is open, a sharp sting passes through. Each movement of your skin on mine, makes me hurt for you. A sob rips past my throat, like a bird clawing free, and when I try to gasp inward, I find I can't breathe. Of course, you wipe the tears and scold me for grieving. I've been gone so long! Why are you weeping?! It's all I can do not to crumple and deflate. My date is supposed to be here at eight.


The roast was in the oven, and she had just poured herself a glass of Pino Rosso. Glancing at the clock, she had yet half an hour before he would arrive. Enjoying the feeling of the sound of her high heels hitting the hard wood floors, she had decided she might as well tidy up the hallway and throw a load in the washer. He didn't always notice these small gestures, but she enjoyed doing small acts of love for him. Knowing she held a value in their home by making sure he always had a clean shirt and a tasteful meal. The wine was having a slight drowsing effect and she felt as if in a dream-like state when the buzzer went off in the kitchen. 'Would you like me to top up you glass, hon?'. No answer, only eying the plate in front of him. 'Alright then, more for me I suppose'. She rose gracefully from her chair and took a moment to straighten her dress. Walked over to the counter with long strong strides, and topped up her glass. Filling it closer to the brim than the mid. She turned on one heel, and fixed her eyes on him. 'You know, when I make dinner it would be nice to be appreciated once in a while.' His silence and reluctance to meet her eyes was apparent. 'Well then, how did you like the meal?' Being ignored is not the same as being heard. Neither one was under any illusion of which strategy he was choosing. 'Could you at least look at me? Grunt? So I know you can hear me.' He made himself smaller, leaning closer to his plate. Turing again to the counter, she emptied the her glass and spoke as if to the trees outside the window. 'I took the liberty of throwing your shirts into the washer. You could imagen my surprise when I found your yellow button up.' Her nails were digging into the counter, and filled her glass once again. 'I never wear lipstick. You said you didn't want it smudged all over your face.' 'Will you say something!?' 'No, of course, now are be silent.' Turning back towards him, she saw a single line of blood from his temple. She smiled and sat her glass down on the counter. Grabbed her keys and a overnight bag from their shared bedroom. As the car started up in the driveway, she could see the glass though the window. A crisp red lipstick smudge was left on the rim. Matching the new red specks on the wall above the dinner table.


Hi, this is my first piece of writing in about 5 years, so i would love any comments / feedback! This was inspired by a painting by Jonathan Viner : "Watchdog" \ The wind nipped at her hair and slapped the midnight strands across her face as she looked up at the façade of the decaying building. Once imposing, its panes now rattled, cowering at the threat of the yelping wind. One of the windows lay in a shattered heap at the bottom of the stairs, a jailer no more. The mutts quivered a little around her ankles. They whimpered as she approached the steps, their mangy bodies shaking as they braced themselves against the wind outside and the frost that threatened to grab them by the scruffs of their necks into its hollow bowels. She was taller now, but under the arch of that roof she did not feel a day older. Hers was not the home that bore witness to her growth. No walls lovingly etched with names and numbers in a line, a ruler of memories warmly awaiting her return. Hers was the home that bore witness, and the walls were scarred with the marks of objects flung. Plates, a chair, a little girl. Her mutt yelped a little as she pushed open a creaking door. She held her breath, but the decay and rot muffled her face, worming its mouldy way into her pores, entangling itself into her hair. Her eyes searched the ceiling for that elephant-shaped patch. The elephant had offered neither comfort nor warmth. Its companionship came alive solely in the head of the little girl as she lay in her bed, legs entangled in the threadbare blanket she had owned all her life. She had often lain there, tracing Ele’s shape through the curtain of tears that eventually did dry up. She couldn’t remember, now, the conversations they had. Perhaps they were nothing. Perhaps her soul had once been bared, and Ele now, with her bloated snout and misshapen leg, would forever hold. Perhaps when the men finally came with sledgehammers and the walls crumbled, Ele would finally take the memories of that broken little girl and let them turn into dust. Perhaps she could stay until the sledgehammers came. How fitting it would be, to shatter in that room, with that room. That thought first flitted in the edges of her mind, then slithered in, demanding an immediate answer. Yes, why couldn’t she stay? These walls were her only sanctuary, so many years ago. These walls held her, kept her. These walls were the only one who ever knew her. The wind howled through the broken window and pierced through her reverie. She took one last look around the box that used to own her. She was not the same girl who left that room so many years ago. She who had cowered and trembled, whose existence was witnessed only by Ele and those cold uncaring walls, had left those walls behind many years ago. She has a name now, and a home with one of its walls lovingly etched with names and numbers in a line. There is an elephant in that home too, in a room painted sunshine yellow and plastered with pictures of animals. That room knows laughter, and its elephant holds no secrets. The door creaked behind her as she stepped across the threshold of the house she was leaving behind for the last time. Her hounds softly padded around her, their paws thudding reassuringly on the ground. Plumes of dust danced around their paws as they paced ahead of her, their protective presence enveloping the woman who had emerged. The wind caressed her hair and the sun warmed the crown of her raven hair as she looked away from the façade of the dying building. Her home awaited.


I don't even know what the big deal about sunrise is. The sky is all red and smudged, and the clouds look like curdled milk. Disgusting curdled milk. There's also a big yellow dot in the middle. And everybody seems to make such a big deal about it. "Tracy." I turn and look at him, he starts to play with his fingers. "Yeah?" I nod sarcastically. "I didn't mean to," he says genuinely. "Didn't mean to what? Tell me that you're getting married? To some brunette in all the way Greece? That you are taking a boat in two sunsets? That your parents from Germany are coming to see it? That you are spending more than a million dollars and stupid carved angels and crystal cutlery? That she loves you? -But you don't and come to Ohio, meet a girl at McDonald's, and tell her you love her over a Double Cheeseburger?" "I know." "You know what Luka? You know what?" I'm yelling now, every part of my face turns red. "What. Do. You. Know?" "I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry. You don't know how hard it is. My parents never thought good of me. I was their disappointment of a son. They wanted a son who would talk about books like War and Peace and eat roasted asparagus. But instead, I am a boy that searches for fast food joints and steals cars." "Steals cars? You steal cars?" "Yeah." I look away, back at the yellow dot in the distance that becomes bigger and fuller, hiding behind the clouds. "I don't even know you." I look at his eyes. They're brown. Ordinary leather jacket brown. "We're still getting to know each other. " "Yeah. Yeah, two days before you leave in a small, cartoon-looking boat like some fairy tale." "I do know one thing about you, though." He hands me a burger, "I know that you love a good Quarter Pounder." "Luka. You know that it's not healthy." "And as a good boyf-... I mean friend. I know that you deserve a burger right about now." "Ok." I smile. "And of course. I did not forget." "What?" I ask. "A peach Crush. One of the worst soft drinks that I've ever even tasted." He laughs. "Ok," I repeat. It's hard to be mad. So I smile and look at the big yellow dot in the distance. "Y'know," he grins, "It would be good if we could sit down somewhere." "Yeah, maybe you could steal a car or something from this parking lot." "Right. What about that teal convertible over there! Besides that RV." I poke the bright red straw through the top of the plastic lid, "Sure let's do it." I grin sarcastically. He starts to walk over to the car. "I thought that you were joking!" I yell over. "I never joke," he says, still walking. -20 YEARS LATER- Most forty-year-old women on my street have a family. Two kids that they send off to school while they stay at home making cheeseburgers and salty water-based mashed potatoes. Their husband spends his hold day with his head in the newspaper, only saying a set of sentences repeatedly, "Yes, honey" or "I agree" or "How outrageous". Time and time again. I spend all day reading Animal Farm, so many times that I've memorized the opening speech. So lonely that I laugh at out loud every time I see a deformed peach because it is the most exciting thing in my day. I sit on the porch, watching through the yellow-lit windows. Families eat their meals. The woman laughs and a kid smiles. A biker rounds the street occasionally. The moon slowly comes into view. Mundane as ever. Big, white, and obnoxious. I see a car come round down the corner. It's a convertible. Teal. Shiny. Like a 1950s movie one. I peer through the foggy window. All I see is a tan-coloured oval. The car parks under a precariously hanging maple tree. A man walks out. He's tall. His eyes are an ordinary brown like almost any other man on the street. He holds a paper bag with a big yellow M plastered on it. "Hi." I wave, my hand hanging awkwardly in mid-air. "Hi." "Who are you?" I pause, "and what are you doing at my house?" He doesn't respond. "Is this a joke?" A pull my zip-up hoodie over my shoulders. "I never joke." he grins. It's Luka. Funny. German-American. Leather jacket Luka. I don't react. He's calm, so that means I have to be calm. It cannot be one-sided. The teal colour of the convertible glints in the moonlight. I watch the hovering of the big white spotlight on the convertible, the shadow of the maple layers on it. Creating a painting. "Here's a peach Crush." he starts to hand it to me, then stops, "I assume that you've figured out who I am by now." I spot some white hair above his forehead. "Yes. I have." I put the Crush beside me, pulling the cuffs of my hoodie over my white knuckles. "You love peach Crush. Have you grown out of it?" He sits down beside me on the porch. I'm angry. He can't come at 8:30 on a Wednesday day night. He can't stop time. It's not fair. With my thumb, I make circles on my palm. Stay calm. Stay Calm. "Nope. I haven't. First, I need to know if you're married or not." "I'm not." "Good." I poke the straw into the styrofoam. He passes me a Quarter Pounder wrapped in plastic. "Here." "I'm not eating that," I restrain the smile that's pulling my mouth upwards, "not until you tell me why you're here and all background complications." "She divorced me." All of a sudden the air crackles with tension. "She knows that I don't love her. That I love someone else." he continues, "She kicked me out. Her father owns the house that we shared. She is going to raise the child on her own." I place my cold hands on my cheeks, trying to cover the embarrassing beet-red tone of my cheeks. I choke on peach Crush and cringe as it goes down the wrong tube. "A kid? You have a kid?" "Yes. A kid. In her family. It's a custom. Every married couple needs to have children. I had nowhere to go. So I put together all the money that I had left. From selling cars." "Selling stolen cars. I assume?" He looks away. "So that's a yes, right?" I smile, patting his back with the large plastic cup. "And I bought a flight from Greece to here, Ohio." "Where are you living?" I ask. "Sunnyside motel. Homey place." "Sounds fishy." "It is. Very fishy." "Eek." I laugh and watch the moon float above a couple of faint stars. "I came here to see you because I loved you all along." he itches the back of his head. "Don't go all romcom cheesy on me." "Trust me, I won't." "So. Are there any more foreign relationships? Any arranged marriages? Any angry parents?" "Yes. But I'm not sure about the last one." he laughs softly. "Pass me the Quarter Pounder."


The Callotians are a proud and intelligent race. Although it's widely accepted in their society that intelligence is not a simple linear progression, the Callotians as a species are well-read and well-traveled, to the point that many feel they've seen all the universe has to offer. This is why grrrr-pop-pop-click (translated to English as Kevin) was so perturbed that he could not make sense of the human's simple response. Years of prior research had shown that the standard human greeting when meeting a new intelligent species was "Take me to your leader". And yet, when Kevin knocked on the first front door he found and made the request, the answer was just "no". Instead, the human invited Kevin in and asked him to sit on a soft uncomfortable mass which his suckers couldn't seem to grip properly. Kevin was pretty sure the translator was working. Even though the humans had over 7000 languages, the Callotians' AI had studied millions of hours of their media for its database, and there had never been a problem with the translator before. Kevin was pretty sure the human knew he was an alien. Standing three feet tall with four tentacles, the closest looking thing on Earth to a Callotian was a sea urchin, but surely a human would know the difference, right? Then why had this human casually invited him in, instead of calling the military or the news or something more typical of a level 4 species' first contact? The human came in from the kitchen and sat down across from Kevin, handing him a glass of water. Kevin gratefully took the beverage, looking at it carefully before pouring it on himself. "At least their cups are normal" he thought to himself as he tried to find a comfortable position in his seat. Then the human spoke. "So, how can I help you?" This did nothing to alleviate Kevin's confusion. The human spoke like Kevin was a friend and not an entirely new species that this human alone knew about. "We uhhh, we come in peace" Kevin tried again to use the standard Earth greetings. The human laughed "Well that's good, I come in peace too". Kevin noticed the singular I. Behind his confusion, concern began to creep into Kevin's mind. "Why will you not take me to your leader?" Kevin asked, attempting to make any sense of the situation. "Oh uhh I umm... well I just don't think you'd like them very much. They're not very reasonable." the human replied, looking to the floor in embarassment. Now kevin was really lost. The humans' leaders were unreasonable? It was his understanding that leaders on Earth were elected. Why would you elect an unreasonable leader? It would be like making a flammable fire extinguisher. He could understand that differences in physiology could make this chair comfortable to sit in for a human, but what could possibly make someone elect a leader that they themselves called unreasonable? Kevin asked the human. "Well uhh everyones opinion is important y'know? Like we may not agree on everything but at least everyone's voice is heard so it's fair to everyone." This actually made some sense to Kevin. He knew the Callotians had tried a pure democracy long ago, but the extreme developmental differences between their twelve genders made it an unstable form of government compared to a meritocracy. Still, he had been sent here to establish relations with the local planetary government and he wasn't about to be scared off by some level 4 monkeys. Plus, this human seemed nice, and Kevin knew that due to a recent evolutionary bottleneck humans were pretty much all the same. How bad could an elected official be? "I see," Kevin began. "In any case I must establish contact with the leaders of this planet". The human seemed disappointed, but understanding. "Alright," he said "at least let me drive you there, I don't think the Whitehouse has spaceship parking". Kevin climbed into the front seat of the human's pickup truck into the more firm -but still uncomfortable- seat. As the human buckled him in he introduced himself. "I'm David, by the way". "My name is Kevin, nice to meet you" Kevin responded. David chuckled as he buckled himself in. "Nice to meet you, Kevin the alien". As they drove they began to talk. David of course wanted to know all about alien civilization and the technological advancements they'd made, while Kevin had a few questions about human society that years of observing TV broadcasts could not answer. David told Kevin about the many societies of Earth and their unique cultures, about the diverse animal life and beautiful views the planet had to offer. Kevin told David about the utopian society he came from, where disease and crime were practically nonexistant, and the incredible planets and stars he'd seen while traveling the galaxy. They even found a shared sense of humor in one of the few jokes that translates properly between English and Callotian: Why did the chicken (or Callotian slug) cross the road? Finally after over an hour of driving, they reached their destination. David parked across the street and together they walked down Pennsylvania Ave until they stood in front of the Whitehouse. David was pretty sure this wasn't where you were supposed to report an alien sighting to, but he was also pretty sure this was an exception. Plus, he always liked to make an entrance, and he couldn't help but smile at the passersby as they wondered what sort of weird prank this was. At first, nothing happened. "Try waving" David suggested. Kevin waved at the Whitehouse. Still nothing. "Hmmm, maybe they think you're in a costume or something...try dancing". While this translated to Callotian as "mating dance" it actually had the desired effect. Kevin began shaking his spines and waving his tentacles in a methodical, seductive manner. He was starting to feel silly when he heard a quiet hum, which grew into a roar as two windowless black vans raced down either side of the street, nearly hitting a tourist and trapping David and Kevin in between them. As the vans swerved to a halt, six men dressed in all black military gear hopped out of each of them, forming a circle and pointing their weapons at Kevin and David. Kevin was starting to see what David meant by "unreasonable". Surely the leadership of this planet did not think that the Callotians had begun an assault on an unsuspecting planet by sending a single unarmed soldier to stand in their capitol. In fact, the Callotians need not send anyone at all, Earth could easily be destroyed by a blast from a Callotian solar cannon. Still, he reasoned, they were probably right to be suspicious. This was, after all, only their first contact. David interrupted his train of thought. "Uhh, so Kevin, it looks like I'm not gonna see you again for a while. I just wanted to say it was really nice meeting you and uhh, I'm sorry. About them." "Thank you for your hospitality-" was all Kevin was able to get out before they were each roughly tossed into the back of their respective vans. As the doors slammed shut and the vans sped off, Kevin decided now would be a good time to take a nap. Kevin awoke in a featureless white room, with walls and floors of smooth tile. "Finally a decent place to sit" he thought to himself. A camera in the corner of the room watched as Kevin made himself comfortable, suctioning firmly to the ground while his spines shook in relief. A speaker in the ceiling crackled to life as a voice spoke through it. "Can you understand me?" it said. "Yup" replied Kevin. It was silent for a moment and then the voice spoke again. "What do you want from us?" it asked. This was a bit more hostile than how David greeted Kevin, but David had said to expect that. He also said Kevin might be able to get them to relax if he told a joke. "Why did the Earth slug cross the road?" Kevin replied. There was a long period of silence, as though they had to think hard for the answer, then the voice came back nervously over the speaker. "Uhhh t- to get to the other side?". Kevin laughed at the delightfully simple humor, hissing and shaking his spines like he hadn't in years. For some reason this seemed to upset the voice. "We are the most powerful military force on this planet. We are willing and capable of defending ourselves- even if that means destroying you." Kevin started to get annoyed. He had just told a funny joke and in return they were threatening him? He instructed his translator to make him sound smarter. "Foul politician, you dare make empty threats against me and my people? And yet in the same breath you reveal your own ignorance- you know not the capabilities or intent of my species, else we would not be here. Even if your primitive weapons could harm me it would be of no consequence, our medical technology outstrips yours just as much as our military technology! You would be weak and foolish to make an enemy of us". It was not his finest diplomatic work, but Kevin was pretty sure he had put that dumb voice in its place. Suddenly, one of the walls in the room began to slide down. The light behind it was too bright to see through, but Kevin could make out the silhouettes of a few dozen men with guns, all pointed at him. "Maybe their leaders are not so reasonable after all" Kevin thought to himself. Still desperate to salvage the situation and complete his mission, he tried one last time to establish peaceful contact. "Uhhh... we do come in peace though" he said nervously. Walking into the room from behind the light, a man replied. Kevin recognised his voice as the voice from the speaker. "Nice try, xeno" the man said, chuckling to himself, "But you're gonna have to do better than that to outsmart us. Now, since you're so tough maybe you wouldn't mind staying a while for us to... observe you." The way he said it made Kevin very nervous. Callotian medical technology was good, but he would still rather not go through whatever barbaric experiments these level 4's had thought up. In his mind Kevin summoned the rescue pod, now all he had to do was stall. "Actually I would like to invoke my right under Article 4 of the Callotian Rights Agreement to leave now please". This response went about as well as expected as the man burst into laughter "Ahahahahaha, well unfortunately for you, xeno, Earth has not signed onto that agreement, so you're coming with me." he said as he grabbed one of Kevin's tentacles. "NO!" Kevin yelled, yanking his tentacle back so hard it caused the man to fall. Suddenly there was a loud pop, then a smack as Kevin felt a painful punch in his side. Looking down he saw where the bullet had hit him, breaking two of his spines before penetrating his skin. A dark purple goo slowly leaked from the wound. "Hold your fire!" the rude man shouted from the floor "We don't know how quickly it'll decompose when we kill it!". "When you kill me?" Kevin thought to himself, the anger building through every spine in his body. What kind of a primitive backwater world was this that they couldn't even handle diplomatic relations? What kind of people interrogate their first contact? This species didn't even deserve to be visited by the Callotians, he thought as he began to tremble with rage. Kevin was nearly ready to let loose on the ignorant beasts when a tremendous crash shook the building, as the rescue pod slammed through the reinforced concrete floors like a stone through wet toilet paper. When it finally came to a rest in between Kevin and the armed guards, the door popped open and Kevin hurried inside, all too eager to leave. As the engines began to hum and the ship took off, kevin could hear the pings of weak human armaments bouncing off the side of the ship. He grimaced to himself as he sat in the autodoc and pulled up a communications channel. For all their posturing they really were a primitive species. Kevin's boss appeared onscreen. "Well, how did it go?" she asked, checking her notes on the species he had just investigated. "They shot me." Kevin replied nonchalantly as the autodoc began to patch him up. "They SHOT you!?" she nearly screamed "So they're a hostile level 4 species?? Not good, very not good. Do you know what happened to the last hostile level 4 that reached level 5? I'll order an exterminatus immediately" she said, quickly reaching for a nearby terminal. "Wait, " Kevin interrupted, not fully believing what he was about to say "maybe there's a better way." "Like what?" his boss snapped back, anxiously studying her paperwork for any weaknesses she had overlooked "Well uhh I think maybe the problem is with their leadership. Maybe if they had a better influence to follow they wouldn't be so mean." His boss snorted. Knowing as well as Kevin did that it was illegal for a Callotian to rule over another species, she replied "And I suppose you have someone in mind?" "I do" Kevin said, pulling a single strand of hair from between his spines and putting it into a slot in the autodoc. A map appeared on his screen showing a positive molecular match close to where he had been rescued.


#Hello r/ShortStories! Back in December we announced our , and you nominated and voted on all your favorite content from the past year. There were so many *great* stories submitted over the course of the year. All the votes have been counted and it’s time to check out the results! There are 15 categories with **one** winner each. Winners will receive our Community ‘Best Of’ Award, which will gift them with one month of Reddit Premium and ! Congrats to all the winners! #Results ###Best Serial Sunday Submission - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/ReverendWrites ###Best Micro Monday Submission - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/katherine_c ###Best Science Fiction Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/NormanCrane ###Best Fantasy Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/WitchofKorcariWild ###Best Horror Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/Zetakh ###Best Mystery & Suspense Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/hungryroses ###Best Realistic Fiction Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/LunarSault ###Best Historical Fiction Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/Dmjhale ###Best Action & Adventure Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/Red_Wolfheart ###Best Humor Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/JoshuaBarbeau ###Best Romance Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/ItsMeAmy88 ###Best Speculative Fiction Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/ArchipelagoMind ###Best Thriller Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/Arkulite ###Best Urban Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/antihashcist ###Best Miscellaneous Fiction Story - **WINNER:** - Submitted by u/Futurefied   *** All winners should receive their awards shortly, which will be placed on the winning submission. Congrats to all of you and a special thank you to everyone on the Discord who helped out with last minute votes! Alright folks, that’s a wrap for 2021! Great job this past year, readers and writers! I hope this new year brings great things for you each and I look forward to meeting back here in December.


I finally left my husband, he was too much of a jerk. Not thinking of my feelings, and getting with every woman he saw it seems.The line was drawn when he started getting interested in a man, Now I am alone, well I suppose not really since I have Jamor, one of his girlfriends I got close to. Also, my daughter and her son. I still feel empty, and betrayed. I am afraid to try to find someone new because of my looks. It is me and Maddie, two heads I have. I go out wondering if anyone could like Maddie, she could have a temper at times. I notice someone who is looking at me, but not staring like I am a freak. He is kind of wearing odd clothing, girly yet sort of guyish. I say hello to him. “Hello! Nice to see someone friendly.” he says, giving me a smile. I nodded, returning the smile. “Of course, I mean you seem to be acting like I am normal. Which is rare for us.” “Well I know the feeling.” he sighed “You don't seem too weird to me, people are dumb.” I frown. “Well they make fun of me for my clothes, my name is Neeco by the way.” he holds out his hand. “I am Gloria, and this is Maddie.” I shake his hand “Nice to meet such kind ladies.” “I warn you, Maddie can have a temper.” Maddie gives me a look. “Do you have to say that right away?” “She seems nice to me, It's fine.” he said shyly. “Well I am glad you think so, my ex seemed to think I was a horrid person.” Maddie sighed. “It seems he didn't know anything, and a jerk.” “He always was getting with others, not happy with just me. I finally got tired of it and left.” Maddie huffed “That's terrible, sorry to hear that.” “Anyways, enough of that. Do you like adventures? There's something he didn't want to do, there's a mystery in this town.” “Sure, I like adventure. What is the mystery?” he asked, curious. “It is about the older houses, they have random portals show. I am surprised you don't know about it since the Realtor made it a selling point.” “I just wasn't sure which mystery you were talking about.” he didn't want to say the real reason he didn't know. “Oh, what other mysteries are around?”' I asked “Oh I don't know but I am sure there are others.” he said lamely. “Oh I see, do you want to see the portal in my home?” “Sure sounds interesting, what do you know about them?” “Not much, it led to a lab last time I went. I didn't get to see much of it though.” I shrugged “Sounds like some sort of secret is being kept, hum.” he pondered “Oh, well do you want to go now or get to know each other more first?” “Yeah let's go I want to know more about this.” he took my hand “Alright, I will lead the way then.” so, we headed to my house. It didn't take too long to get there. He gaped at the large Victorian style house. “Wow this is big...” “It needed to be with how many lived here.” I open the door and go in “Oh, are they still here?” “Just me, Dena, Jamor, Misty, and Fig. The rest went to live somewhere else.” I head to where the portal usually showed up. I opened the door. “Hum, seems it is not here right now. Do you want to know the others?” “Maybe I will meet them later, for now I just want to talk to you. I don't want you to think I am interested in a bunch of girls.” he takes a seat on the couch. “Well I am glad to hear that, but I know a female could be a friend too.” Me and Neeco chatted, I felt awkward. I wasn't sure why, maybe because I was used to talking to John and how jerky he was, and Maddie's temper flaring up and something weird happening. With Neeco, he seemed quiet and sweet. “Sorry, I guess it been a long time since I talked to a man besides my husband.” I explained, as I felt nervous about impressing someone new. Neeco nodded. 'It's fine, I feel a bit odd myself. Am I supposed to talk to both heads or just one?” “We are the same person, just different sides so just talking to me is fine.” I explained. “I see, should we see if the portal is up yet?” I got up heading to where it usually was. “Ah, good it's here. Ready?” “Yeah, as much as I will ever be.” We go through. There is a lab with a man working with some vials. It takes a minute for him to notice us. “Ah! What?” he stares at me. Neeco looks at him. “What is going on here?” The man snorts. “Science, what do you think?” Neeco glares at him. “I meant why are the portals going here?” “Portals? I had no idea.” The scientist pondered. “You mean you don't know?” Neeco blinks. “It might be because of my test subject, some odd things have been going on with her.” he shrugged. “Her? You mean it is a person?!” I was shocked. “Don't think that way, she gave me permission to do it!” he threw his hands up. “Let us see her.” I growled “Fine, this way.” he lead us to a room, there inside was a brown haired woman. The woman looks at us, blinking. “You are probably wondering why I wanted to be experimented on.” Neeco nodded. “That, and if it was your own free will to do it.” She blushed. “You probably won't believe me, but I am the teleportation goddess. People don't follow me anymore, so I am trying to see what other things in me he can bring out.” “Is that where the portals are coming from?” Neeco asked. “Portals? Oh this must be making my power go wild. I should stop this.” She tries to make a portal but it glitched. “Oh man now it isn't working.” I sighed a bit. “Well now the mystery is solved, I can't help but feel this was for nothing.” Neeco pointed. “Why not go in that portal and see what's there?” one was on a wall. We walk in and see several people in cages. “Hum, seems this scientist was not so good.” I look around opening cages. “I am guessing you guys don't want to be here.” A familiar looking cat woman hugged me. “Gloria! I am so glad you are here, he trapped me and my daughters here again.” I blinked. “Harriet? Is that you?” She had been one of John's interests, now looking at the group of women they all were! “Hum, these are all John's I wonder if he is involved in this.” I frowned, he was worse than I thought if that is true. “He kind of went insane after you left, it was really bad. He found out about a lab I had been in, and took us here and locked us all up. Robert has been doing experiments on us.” Harriet said, shaking as she held on to me. I looked at the scientist. “You must be Robert, why are you doing this?” “At first Harriet and her family said it was OK for me to do things, but the others working with me tortured them. It was not me but the others I was working with, honest.” he began shaking. “It is true others were working on us, but you did too. You are not innocent like you say!” Harriet growled “I am sorry, it is true. I was just so close to find the answer that I didn't want to stop testing when I got new subjects. John bringing you guys here was like a goldmine for me.” he sighed, slumping. “You shouldn't of lied to me. You will be sorry!” Maddie growled and tried to turn him to a frog with her anger, he then turned into a bird person. “Please, Mercy! I didn't mean to be cruel, I was trying my best to treat them right.” he squawked. “That is true, he was kind for the most part, It was the others that did the really bad stuff.” said Harriet. “We need to put them to justice,where are they?” I asked “They went home for the day, I was working late because I was on a roll.” he frowned. “You must think bad of me for letting these people work with me. Just, something started to happen to make the others go mad and do things they normally wouldn't do. For some reason I was unaffected by it.” “You should of done something when you realized they were mistreating the subjects!” Maddie zapped a spell at him, and he turned into a woman. “I know, I made a mistake...whatever punishment you want to inflict on me...do it now.” she looked down frowning. Gloria sighed and turned him back to a man, but of a strange furry horned species. “I think this is enough punishment for you.” So, they went off to get the others treated from the illness that had befallen them. The lab was closed. Gloria looked at the other girlfriend of John. “I can't stand knowing that John may mistreat you. Please, stay with me as long as you need.” Harriet hugged her. “Thank you Gloria, I fell on hard times when my husband died...I won't stay long just when I get back on my feet.” “If you want to stay forever it is fine with me. Do not worry.” I smiled Neeco looked over at her. “Um, what about me though?” I gave him a confused look. “What about you?” “Um, I kind of live in a cave right now. I didn't want to tell you before. Maybe it is too soon to ask you to stay with you though?” he blushed. “Of course not, I can't have you living in a cave!” So, me and all of John's exes lived together with Neeco in my house. He didn't seem interested in the other girls though thankfully. So, the mystery was solved and my family was bigger! I had a feeling things will be great with Neeco in my life. The End.


12:23. My watch face blinks up at me in flashes of green that feel out of place amongst the golden lamplight around me. When had it gotten so late? Glancing up at the massive main clock, mounted on the far wall at the other end of the library, I was surprised to read that it displayed the same time. It ticked morosely. Leaning back in my chair, I stifled a sneeze - reluctant to disturb the titanic quiescence consuming the library - and removed my glasses to rub at my eyes. The thick Neuroscience encyclopedia on the desk in front of me that had consumed my attention for the past hours now seemed to be a leather-bound mockery of my destructive studying habits: the test that I was studying for only called for knowledge on a few topics about the brain, but somehow I’d gotten sidetracked and been reading about a menagerie of interesting concepts and hypotheses that wouldn’t be in my exam. Down the road of knowledge I’d ventured, taking my curiosity for a walk as though it were a dog, letting it lead me so far from my initial spot that I’d forgotten what I came here to study for. The grand clock ticked, echoes like calls reminding me of how late it was. The library was empty, and I suddenly felt isolation press onto me with a thousand icy fingers. I remembered the librarian having left a while ago, and the other inhabitants of the building leaving much earlier than that. I rested my head on the desk before me, tuning my ears into the reassuringly stable percussion of the clock- “You should go home.” I leapt to my feet. I looked around. Carefully, I peered into each shadow for a figure, a source for the male-sounding voice that I’d heard, all the while my breaths quivering. Nothing. Nothing but tall wooden bookshelves and empty desks and the clock and me in the room. Had I imagined it? My mouth opened instinctively to call out ‘hello’ then snapped shut as my grandmother’s face appeared in my mind’s eye. ‘Never reply to a spirit,’ she dictated, sapphire orbs glittering, ‘you don’t know what could happen. I don’t want my granddaughter stolen by some duppy,’ She kissed her teeth. Shaking my head, I forced a chuckle. I was clearly overreacting - like my grandmother always did. I was in an old library, it was past midnight, I was alone and I was tired. Understandably, my imagination was on overdrive. “Maybe I should go home, ha,” I joked to myself, picking up my books and stuffing them into my slate shoulder bag. Carefully, I placed my fountain pens and ink into the deep pockets of my nude trench coat, pulled on my plaid gloves and made my way over to the librarian’s deserted desk. I hoped to borrow a few books, so I decided to try to navigate the library computer system myself. I jiggled the mouse and the bulky, old-fashioned grey monitor flickered to life. It immediately displayed a password prompt and I groaned slightly. Of course - I didn’t know the password. I became acutely aware that the ticking of the grand clock was suddenly absent. Should I just borrow the books without adding them to the catalog? I bit my lip. A faint whiff of cinnamon wafted past my nose. After a moment, I began to scour the desk drawers for any sign of a post-it note or a notepad with the password on it. Then a frigid spark snaked down my spine. The cinnamon scent intensified. I was no longer alone. “Didn’t I tell you to go home?” _________ My stomach dropped. My mouth tried to formulate words but I found myself unable to breathe. “A-ah-” “Shut up,” the voice was definitely male, and right behind me now. My blood chilled and willed me not to move, but I forced myself to turn around. My eyes met with a pair of dark ones. Dark, slightly irritated ones. There was a guy standing in front of me, wearing a plain white shirt and dark trousers. But below the trousers was empty space. He had no feet - his body simply faded into nothing. I could almost see through him. I laughed. “Ha. Ha!” I pointed at him and giggled, “Y-you’ve g-got no feet! Ha!” The spirit’s expression grew stormy, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop laughing. Snorting, I cackled, “I- I had too much c-coffee this morning... ha... who k-knew coffee w-was a hallucinogenic-” Bonk! A fist hit my head. “Idiot,” the spirit intoned without contempt or disdain, as though he was simply stating a fact. “I- ow,” this sobered me, and I murmured “I don’t care if you’re a spirit or whatever, don’t bonk me, alright?” The spirit raised his eyebrow. After a pause, he replied, “Fine. The computer password is g-m-u-x-1-4-8-6.” Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows, “T-thank you?” He rolled his eyes again, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Just take your books and get out of my way.” I stared, heart pounding, not moving. I couldn’t help it. He was captivating. He was tall, but not quite taller than me, and slim, probably around my age. His skin was pale and his features sharp like the edges of paper, but contrasted his hair - dark and messy and seeming to defy gravity in spikes around his head. From what I could tell, he was worlds apart from the multiple-limbed, many-mouthed and upside-down beings that my grandmother had always told me stories of. “Hey... stop staring.” he intoned, averting his eyes and scratching the back of his neck defensively, “...Just take your books and leave.” “I-” I tried to reply but my throat closed up as the reality of the situation crashed down on me, and I was once again stricken with anxiety. Deciding that it was best to obey him lest he do... something to me, I typed the password that he’d told me into the computer, not taking my eyes off the gloomy spirit whose eyes followed my every move. An aura of deep-rooted dissatisfaction seemed to surround him, and I could almost feel it seeping into me. Hands shaking, I scanned the barcodes on my books and authorised my borrowing them in the system. All the while, he watched me, deathly still. “Good,” he intoned flatly when I was done, “Now... go.” I nodded and glanced up at him. That was a mistake - once again I found myself fixated. After a moment or two, he glared at me. “Why are you staring? Shouldn’t you be desperate to leave?” “What does it matter to you?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. The spirit’s eyes narrowed. “I - don’t you want to get away from me?” he said, voice rising in volume. “I... I do.” I replied truthfully, but my body was rooted to the spot in awe of what I was seeing. “Then leave. Just... stop staring at me! It’s weird.” he growled. His cheeks flushed. My heart thundered, but my curiosity had already peaked, “Are you self-conscious? About being a spirit?” “I... Shut up. This is stupid. I don’t have time to talk to you.” “Then why did you come to speak to me?” “Because I need you to leave.” He began to drift away from me, across the hall. “Why?” “Because,” he growled, “when midnight comes, this is my library. It’s the only time I can read without being seen or heard.” He turned to me, glaring daggers. But although my legs shook, my voice disobeyed all logic and didn’t cease speaking. “So... you normally like to read alone, but today you’re lonely, and that’s why you approached me?” “What?” he hissed, exasperated, “That’s not what I’m... just shut up and leave.” He glanced away. “And stop staring,” he emphasized. “Okay.” Finally, I managed to tear my eyes from him and made my way towards the wooden, ornate double-doors of the library. But something weighed down in my chest, a sympathy for this miserable, solitary spirit, a sentiment that I needed to spit out, “Y-you know, I come to this library most Saturdays. “I don’t usually stay this late, but... I can stay until midnight next week, if you want... instead of being all alone in here...” He stared at me, mouth slightly open, for one shocked moment. Then his expression became guarded once more, and he turned away from me and picked a book from the nearest bookshelf, flipping it open, “Whatever.” Feeling a strange disappointment, I lingered beside the door for a moment in case he changed his mind. But he seemed engrossed in his book and uninterested in me, so I opened the door and stepped out of the library. And that is the story of my encounter with a library spirit. A cold, unfriendly, antisocial ghost who just wanted to read in peace. But there’s one part of this story that I’ve never told. Because as I left the library, pulling my coat tightly around me and stepping into the rain, I felt a cold shiver snake down my spine, and caught the scent of cinnamon. “Next Saturday. Midnight. Come alone. I’ll be waiting.” I turned towards the voice, but the library spirit was gone.


I awoke to the crashing thunder of waves tossing me about like a rag doll. Grateful to feel the dawn brush my skin again. My dreams give me no sanctuary from this hell. How I long for the feelings stability, flat ground. A moment of balance in this terrifying rollercoaster that just wont let go. Even as the waves subside they will never end. Home is a distant memory now. Has it been days? Weeks? Months? Who knows at this point. The days have blended together like a crude finger painting. I have survived this long is that a sign of endurance or a foolish man refusing to let go? It’s funny that my place of sanctuary has become my eternal hell. I swear each night I find it harder too sleep, the endless abyss that awaits at the hem of my only safe place taunts me. Gently reminding me how small I really am. A meer pebble in a vast ocean with no clue what lingers below. But at least with the light I can try and catch some food. As much as I yearned for the sun I forgot the true heat it brings. The waves have calmed and the sky is a crystal blue. A perfect blue for a baby boys nursery. As gentle as it seems it comes with a cost. I finally understand what a ant under a magnifying glass feels like. Pinned with no where too go, nowhere too hide, only option is to suffer. Hopefully my rain trap got a good amount for how rough it was last night. Food is a different story there’s a can of peaches left and protein bar that’s been soaked in salt water for who knows how long. I’m saving that for as long as I can. I will live a bit longer but honestly what is the point? How do I realistically get out of this one. Katie must think I’m dead by now and I don’t blame her. I miss her, waking up and feeling her hair brush my face, smelling her perfume as she waltz down the stairs like my very own super model. Memories have become the only thing that’s true too me now. As the days pass I feel myself getting lost in the memories. Yesterday I swore I smelt grass, fresh cut grass not the relentless fragrance of the ocean salting my nose into oblivion. That moment lingered with me for the rest of the day. Part of me hates setting the line in the morning. The sharp hook beckons to puncture. I must be slow and steady. The tension fills my soul like a surgeon starting a life saving heart surgery. Just the thought sends me into a spin of worry but when it’s is done it becomes a line of hope. Hope is something I’ve learned to cherish as it comes. From small to large those moments mean everything. I managed to bottle the water from the traps, still surprises me how much they collect. But with this heat I need every drop. It’s been four days since I caught anything and my insides feel like they are sucking my ribs like a vacuum. Keeping track of what I consume gives me something to ground me to reality out here. But with knowledge comes with a toll. I know that this is not sustainable, I reached that conclusion a while ago now. I can’t cook what I catch so there is always a risk but at this point I feel a hunger that is all consuming. The pain burrows at me like a grub through bark. Slowly grinding but always there. It’s getting cooler which means my chances at a meal are closing fast. The line has become my only focus, nothing else matters in the moment. I’m a sprinter at the Olympics waiting for the gun. If there was ever a time it would be now, this fish are more active as dusk approaches. Locked in place my heart skipped a beat. As a faint ripple echoed from the line. I have learned that this moment requires patience, pull too soon then everything could slip from your grasp. I have to stop myself from letting excitement from fogging my judgement. As sudden as the change of the winds the line jerked with a tremendous force. This is moment I have yearned, no prayed for. With no hesitation I pull at the line like a man possessed. I can feel my heart beating out my chest as I fight with whatever is on the other end of the line. My arms feel like I’ve slept on them both for weeks from fatigue but I must push on. I need this. As I gaze into the bottomless pit beneath me a faint silhouette rises. Adrenaline fills my veins and feeling of weakness is gone for a moment. I pull and I pull. Every inch closer the silhouette draws I feel stronger. The battle is almost won, the shadow becomes clearer but the danger of jeopardising my raft comes with it. A few more feet and this fish is mine, it’s strength has faded like it is offering itself too me willingly. Pure joy rages through me like a junkie taking his first hit. The fish is in my hands. Lifting him from the water it’s as beautiful as a Van Gogh painting. Pearlescent shades of blue and yellow remind me of Gogh’s starry night painting, Katie’s favourite. The fish must weight at least 13 pounds, enough to give me a chance. Ecstasy has taken control, leaping to my feet with the fish above my head I scream. But all good out here comes with a cost. With the strength of a 12 gauge it whipped its body and begins to struggle. In the moment of celebration my judgement has lapsed, I didn’t kill the fish. I fight too keep control but the weakness has returned and as fast as hope filled me the high crashes. It launches back towards the sea as I hopelessly grasp the air behind it. A heaviness bellows in the pit of my stomach, it was there. I had it but it slipped through my hands as if I was clutching sand. Gone.... As the night draws all sense of hope drains from me like a thousand leeches are sucking at my life essence. The orange whispers of dusk dance on the horizon. The final act of beauty before the endless shroud of darkness engulfs my tiny tiny world.