You wake up in a white room. No walls. No ceiling. Only a white floor that produces no shadow. You start to walk aimlessly, looking for something when you have no evidence of its existence. Unfortunately you do find something: a lone TV with a remote resting on top. You walk over and pick up the remote. You sit down and you turn the TV on. The screen is filled with static. You continue watching as all you hear is white noise and all you see is black and white particles bouncing around. Hours, days, weeks pass. Still static. You start wondering if anything is ever going to play. You start to get up, but you decide against leaving because theres nothing else to do here anyway. The moment you sit back down, the TV goes from static to black. You tilt your head, wondering why the TV turned off. But it did not turn off, far from it actually. The screen overflows with immense light. Now things are getting interesting. The TV shows the expansion of that light, getting brighter, but the objects in the screen are growing farther apart. You understand what’s happening now. You know exactly what this TV is showing you. The passing of time itself. As millennia pass, you witness the expansion of the universe, the formation of the first star, elements being born; you witness entire civilizations rise and fall. The history of existence, showed in a 32 inch retina display. Millions of years pass as you cover each system’s individual history, yet you aren’t bored... you’re intrigued. Billions of years go by, when you finally reach a tiny yet familiar blue planet. You watch as species rise and fall, nature deciding who lives and who dies, until you see one of the animals learned how to make things. At that moment they spread like a virus, destroying everything that came in their path. For a few thousand years they only fought each other, mostly over petty grievances that they could have easily talked out. They stopped and learned how to control themselves after they almost destroyed the planet...twice. It was at that moment that they assumed nature’s role; they were the ones who decided who lived and died. They consumed everything in their path, devouring everything that they thought was necessary to further themselves as a civilization. You continue watching, horrified by what you see. You watch a species learn how to master aspects of their surroundings that they should have absolutely no control over. They mastered their planet. They consumed their planet. They mastered their star. They consumed their star. They mastered their system. They consumed their system. Their viral infectivity increased at an exponential rate, they were becoming unstoppable. Every civilization has its filter, something that stops it from advancing as a species. The virus overcame that filter with flying colors. This was the first you’ve seen of a civilization beating its filter. You start to get frightened for the sake of the universe because this is no longer the history of time. No, this is the history of the virus. Its a story of how it spread in its influence and power, consuming everything in its path. This is the story of how the universe was infected and overcome by a virus named humanity.


The Last Mess My head is pounding as Jadsy straightens the throw rugs and vacuums the errant crumbs that still remain on them. She is a perfectionist and does everything in a slow, methodical way. This time she is being extra careful I, myself, couldn't care less about the remnants of cake she is gathering with straight, consecutive strokes. Straighten, vacuum, repeat. Straighten, vacuum, repeat. There is a sort of rhythm to her work and it lulls me even further into the befuddled state I find myself in. Straighten, vacuum, repeat. Straighten, vacuum, repeat. The repetition going through my aching head also gives me a reminder of the state my stomach is in. Too much liquor has a way of doing that to someone who does not imbibe on a regular basis. She throws a hurried glance my way as I lay on the sofa, feet propped up on the back cushions, head on the arm of the comfortable old piece that used to belong to the previous tenants. A mixture of blue and purple flowers with dusky green leaves adorn the couch giving the impression that Mr. and Mrs. Elliot who used to live here just might have been color blind. My arm is over my eyes to shield them from the light streaming through the window. I can just barely glimpse Jadsy through the open space made by my elbow. She clears her throat and looks my way again, this time holding her stare. “You could help, you know?” I sense both irritation and sarcasm in her voice. I groan and sit up. I feel both disoriented and dizzy and I can't imagine my cleaning techniques to be up to her standards. Certainly not this morning “What do you want me to do?” I ask, not really wanting to know. She sighs and comes to where I sit. “Get a trash bag and fill it with whatever you find that wasn't here before the party. Paper plates, cups, napkins.” She sits next to me. Maybe she is still upset about what happened at the party. Looking back I mentally shudder, but she seems calm. “ I think the mini sandwiches turned out to be rather tasty don't you?” Is she trying to talk about mundane things on purpose? I don't really have an opinion on mini sandwiches even when I am not battling a hangover. And right now all I can think of is Layla. Layla who got herself drunk on the excitement of landing her dream job as well as on the freely flowing drinks. Layla who danced too close and left the scent of her perfume on my shirt. Layla, who I knew I had to see again. “The food was delicious.” I say trying to come up with a generic comment that doesn't reveal that I really don't care much about the contents of the buffet. Come to think of it, I don't really care much about anything right now except for Layla. I don't think it would be a good idea to mention it to Jadsy though so I get up and retrieve a trash bag from the kitchen and begin gathering the remnants of last nights party. I struggle to think of something that happened at the party that I can mention to make me appear interested, but only one thing comes to mind and Jadsy is obviously not the one to discuss it with. I made a big mistake I know, but when hard liquor mixes with the engaging advances of a beautiful woman, what's a man to do? For a moment I allow myself to think that Jadsy has forgotten it by now. That she really didn't see me ask for Layla's phone number, that she fails to remember the closeness that we shared on the dance floor. But I know Jadsy too well to imagine that she doesn't have every smile, every held hand, and the kiss that Layla gave me as she said good night etched in her memory. I made a big mistake I know. A huge mistake that could result in the dissolution of a relationship. Not that I care that much anymore. It's the coming confrontation that I fear. How could I have been that stupid to do that in front of her. I watch Jadsy take the tablecloth from the buffet table and throw it in the corner, waiting to be washed. I doubt that some of those stains will ever come out, but I'm finding it difficult to imagine it really mattering. To me at least. She seems so calm, as though nothing is wrong while my insides are churning. Maybe she doesn't really care. So much the better. For her, anyway. But a thought is nibbling away at me that things will never really be okay for me again. And it's all my fault. But why does it seem so final? A breakup is a breakup and nothing more. Except when Jadsy is involved. Her temper is volcanic and she has the ability to back even the strongest of individuals into a corner of surrender, trembling and struggling to breathe. Of course I didn't really have a break up in mind necessarily, but if she remembered last night she probably would. “Help me move this table back to the kitchen,” she says as I tie the bag filled with the left overs from the party. I help her without saying a word and wonder if she realizes... But she must, she must know and want to talk about it. What kind of game is she playing? I was never as good as Jadsy at that sort of thing. I wonder what she is up to. I've never known her to exert any restraint over her fierce temper. She screams, yells, and throws whatever unfortunate object happens to be near her. Yet now she is so calm. We both return to the flowered sofa and sit next to each other. “I love you Conner.” She puts her head on my shoulder. “I don't know what I would do if you weren't here with me. I'm so scared.” Of what I am not sure, because she doesn't sound frightened at all. No, not at all. I, however, am shaking. “I love you too.” I answer without much conviction. But she seems not to notice. I am a failure at hiding my fragile state right now, waiting for her to begin berating me for last night. She has every right to, but still I am hearing the clock ticking inside of me, pounding out the seconds until she loses control. A countdown to unmanageable rage. We both lean back on the soft, flowery, cushions and rest our feet on the coffee table. She sighs, a deep sigh of what I mistakenly think might be one of resignation. We sit there long enough to fall asleep and when we awaken the room is full of shadows. I turn on the lamp and look at her. She goes to the kitchen to put on some coffee. When she returns I am still sitting in the same position. My nervousness is becoming overwhelming, and for the first time today, she looks a little nervous too. We sip the coffee in silence. When both cups are empty, she looks around the room. “I think we did a pretty good job in getting the place back to normal.” She says. “At least nobody threw up on the rug,” she attempts a joke. I let a small smile pull at the corners of my lips. But I am in no mood for humor and normal seems a untenable distance away. Then she gets serious and looks down. “What do we do now?” “I don't know.” I answer pushing the hair from her face where it has fallen. “I honestly don't know where we go from here.” As I say this I find myself wondering if I'm talking about the same thing that she is. “We have one last mess to clean up.” And she looks right at me with that unwavering stare of hers that could bore a hole through a concrete wall. She is torturing me more than any bamboo shoots ever could. She maintains this penetrating gaze for what seems like hours. I decide to break the silence. “Look I'm sorry about last night. I behaved inexcusably. Am I forgiven?” This last comes out in a begging tone. Not what I was going for, but it will have to do. A slight grin appears on her face and I cannot fathom what is happening. “Don't apologize, Conner. Everything is just fine. I wasn't exactly a good little girl myself at the party last night.” She reaches out to me and we embrace. I still don't know what is going on. Did she do something last night to get even with me? Did she flirt with some other guy. Is that what she is trying to tell me? Did she do worse? “Jadsy, whatever you did, I probably deserved it. Don't think about it ever again.” Even as I say these words my mind is drifting to Layla. I shake my head to help me concentrate on the moment. “Then you forgive me for what I did?” She asks in a small voice, so unlike her. I want to ask what exactly she is talking about, but I answer. “Of course, I forgive you.” And I truly do. I find myself not caring about anything Jadsy has done. My mind is elsewhere getting lost in the smell of Layla's soft flowing hair, her lovely brown tempting eyes looking up at me. Jadsy smiles one of her most endearing smiles and for a brief moment I begin to believe that everything is going to be alright. I kiss her on the cheek. Part of me feels sorry for her and part of me fears her coming reaction. “You've been forgiven since last night,” she says. “Everything is perfectly okay with us. We're even.” This last statement has an ominous tone to it, but I chalk it up to my nerves and nothing else. And no, Jadsy, everything is not even close to being okay with us. If there even is an us anymore. She stands and grabs both of my hands. “Now we have one last mess to clean up. Will you help me? There is a teasing quality to her words and I stand to join her. “What kind of mess” I ask, looking into her light blue eyes which at the moment are sparkling with anticipation. “You'll see,” she grins, “You'll see” She leads me down the dark hall to the guest room door and stops. She opens the door and turns on a small lamp which doesn't throw much light. I scan the room for whatever it is Jadsy wants to show me. The lamplight is not bright and I squint as I look around the dingy room. And then my eyes find it. I almost faint but hold on to my composure long enough to let a few words tumble from my lips. “What happened.... Why... For the love of God...” My inner disarray spilling out in fragmented phrases. But then what I am seeing isn't your average party aftermath I don't realize it but I am slowly backing away. I suddenly turn and and walk towards the front door. I should be running, but I walk. I vaguely hear Jadsy's wails demanding I return. “Don't you see, we're even now.” she screams, following me. But I don't fully take in any of her words. I merely walk towards the door. I stumble in my shock and bump the end table where a lamp falls to the floor and shatters. As I reach for the doorknob I feel something whiz past my head, and a mug shatters on the door frame in front of me.Then she is coming at me with a deranged look on her face and a kitchen knife in her hand. I slam the door behind me and race to the stairs. For the next hour or so I roam the dark streets aimlessly. My headache is gone and I begin to think clearly on the events of the day. I spy one of the few phone booths left in the city, sitting on the corner ahead of me. The relic beckons me. I anonymously dial 911. “I want to report a murder.”


Suddenly, upon finally waking to my surroundings, I was a serial murderer. I could only tell this by two things--of course, it’s not detrimentally obvious at first; it took a few moments, a few breaths, a few blinks, and then I noticed the incessant dripping sound. Vexing me. Drowning me. Calling me. The space I’m in, wherever it was, was dim and cramped and horrible. I blink, blinded with static-y swarms, and identify the dripping; it sprouted, red and copper, from the length of my arms and pooled around my fingertips before drooping into a large metal puddle. The smell was disgustingly delightful; like the smell of coins and death. It was certainly not from myself. I felt desperately at my own skin in the half-dark, the dripping carrying on with merry and boiling my nerves. There were no incisions, slashes, gouges, lacerations, bites. No amputations of any kind, no oozing blisters, nothing I could find or feel. I felt wonderful, in fact, and that itself was a horrifying discovery. The second piece of evidence that condemned me was the location and mangled body at my feet; while this should’ve been the first, I supposed, it was not nearly as damning as the dripping was, which still persisted. I wiped excess blood away, flung it ladenly off my arms, and still it stayed in a steady tune. I turn my attention to the body, to the room. The box room was tight and suffocating as it was, and there was only a door on one wall, a tiny nightstand, and a ratty bed. There were no windows which was a relief. I was certainly looking unattractive covered in blood, I thought. The corpse, if it can even be called that, was torn open, and gore spattered over the floor and walls and me. It was unidentifiable. Certain parts, such as the index, middle, and ring fingers were missing; so was the left ankle and foot and most of the facial structure. The stomach was cut open and the organs seemed unnatural in their places, almost as if they’d been stirred about in the skeletal cavity. Veins, mostly major arteries, had been stripped delicately from the flesh and laid out in a fragile pattern around my feet; it looked like a cluster of branches dripping blood as rain, and then splayed around the body like murderous wings. The hair was also gone, the skin sliced loose, and the limbs looked posed into that of a final prayer. There were no clothes, but still the heap of flesh seemed to be wearing them. I couldn’t comprehend it. With great caution, I inched over to the nightstand and fumbled with the lamp’s switch to be further enlightened. The sight, now bathed in sickly yellow light, was even more ghastly than I had previously seen; blood seemed to seep forever into the floorboards, and the dripping still did not cease, in fact-- drip, drip, drip-- the dripping clung onto my mind like a vice. I felt queasy. I don’t remember what happened. How I got here, who this was. I could barely remember who I was, actually, what with this maddening sound. My eyes traced back and forth over the pattern of veins. They were so thin, and so very purposely intact. This was a practiced sort of thing. Serial murderer . At least it was artful. I neutralized my face and thought. I don’t really know what’s behind this door, where I should go, what I should do. I couldn’t be in charge of this body. Panic quickly arose--what would I tell people? The only way to clean myself would be with the bedsheets, and any wash basins would be sternly outside. I glared at the body. Clearly, as this had been planned, there was no true afterthought on getting away innocently. With mild irritation, I began stripping the bed, roughly scrubbing my arms and face and shirt with the threadbare sheets. I eyed the door, the corpse, almost expecting it to rise, clean itself off, and then jaunt back outside. When it didn’t move, and there was hardly anything but stains on my skin, I threw the bloodied sheets over it in horrid aggression. I stomped over to the door, careful to avoid the stream of blood and arteries, and gently twisted the bronze knob. It opened with ease, and with an air of satisfaction, I exited the room. I was on the second floor and met with a balcony overlooking the lame parking lot of a motel. At the entrance of the parking lot there was a sign that read, “ The Stainsbury Motel ” and a very subtle for sale sign. Charming. I glanced at the door--Room 23. The rest of the rooms, also at a quick look, seemed to be the exact same and count up to thirty. I made my way to the stairwell, thinking near fondly about the crime I just commit. It burned, red and iridescently, into my mind and pleased me with a certain degree of shame. I wonder if I have a public name, I think. It would have to be a good one. Something that marked my artistry. I was not responsible for the bodies, no, just the canvases they were made into. I wonder, I do, if I have a high body count, and the thoughts of each murdered piece excited me. I watched my footsteps down the stairs, hoping to not see bloody tracks, and played a game of just being silent. Crickets chirped, cicadas lowly hummed; wind rustled the deep dark wilderness. It was extremely far into the night, and the only light around was that of the slim, pale moon and dim orange lights. It was a starless night, with pale red lines clawing at the skyline, and my steps down the metal platforms seemed loud and cantankerous. Drip, drip . At the bottom of the stairs, I glared back up at the room. I could still hear the terrible dripping of the corpse through the floorboards and drywall and peeling door. It dragged on, endless, infrequent, darkly irking me. I ran a hand through my hair, my palm still sticky with crimson, and tried to locate the reception office. Wandering in the dim and damp parking lot did nothing to ease my mind, but it was fairly simple to find the reception; it was, objectively, the nicer piece of property on the lot, with pleasant yellow lights and wallpapered walls, wrapped with a shining veneer and a polished but worn wooden flooring. Upon entering, there was a mellowly colored rug in the middle of the room, a few old lounge couches, a payphone, and the aroma of deep caramel and forest rain. There was a decent L-shaped desk with a bored receptionist, and behind her a wall of keys that had a few missing here-or-there. I approached her and she looked up with a gleam in her eyes. “Hello, welcome to the Stainsbury Motel.” She greeted, nearly dry; but her interest, fleeting as it was, was piqued at a middle-of-the-night customer. I wondered how visible the blood stains were. “Hi.” I said lamely. “Where am I?” She gave me a look, incredulous, and started to say something, but--drip drip, drip drip-- the dripping, horrible and squeamish, started again, and irritation fizzed like carbonation down my spine. It burst bright and wonderful through my skull, locked my fingers and toes into a stiffness, clamped down into my bones with its teeth. The dripping was awful. The receptionist mouthed words at me, and for a moment I allowed myself to imagine her as a canvas, too, cut open and bloodied. Another drip prowled in my ear and I felt more than sated and nauseous. “I just killed a man,” I confessed to her, abandoning my prior question. “I’ve made him so beautiful, and he haunts me now. How is that fair?” A distinct terror fell upon her. “Completely fair. How many have you killed?” I ran my tongue along my teeth in consideration. “I don’t know. It must be a lot, though; I’ve clearly had practice. You should come and see. It truly is beautiful.” “You’re a monster, a serial killer,” she cried, and she started to reach for the phone on her desk. I grabbed her hand and tugged it away, hysterical. “A serial murderer,” I corrected, “don’t call anyone, they’ll ruin it, I’m sure! I thought you might appreciate it. Find it wonderful. Find it inexorably gorgeous and intriguing. And wouldn’t you? Don’t call someone.” She paused, looked me over; with caution, she pulled her hand away and scratched vehemently at her throat. I thought, now, that she would come with me, that I’ve convinced her to look at the painting I’ve laid to completion upstairs. A part of her looked interested. A part of her looked horrified. I sympathized with her contrasted convictions. There was a silence that screeched between us. The stutter in dripping was certain to resume soon, and I found myself aching to have anything but it. I’d prefer screams, even, over the dripping. The receptionist’s eyes met mine. I prepared myself for another vexing drip. And there it was-- drip, drip, drip, drip... Suddenly, with the fury of a wraith, the receptionist lunged across the desk and tackled me down onto the ground. Terror swirled with hues of resentment in her eyes, in her face; she quickly pinned me by my throat, resourcing from a well of strength I was oblivious to, and reared back to punch me. I, with hatred and betrayal, clawed at her hands in turn, and the grip she had heightened. I could not breathe; her eyes turned almost black and she salivated venom. She reminded me of a spider, almost, and dots began to dance cheerily in my line of sight. The receptionist screamed, bringing her other hand down to aid in choking me tighter. The dripping increased and my figure shook with the sound of it. “I’ll kill you,” she roared, an expletive on the tip of her tongue but never quite making it out, “I will kill you.” I fought. Drip . “I will! I will, I will! You horrid creature!” My sight started to wane, and still I fought. How she could act such a way when I offered her the nicety of such art would torment me forever. Drip drip drip . Ah, as would that. She leaned down, her voice poison in my ears. “Wake up, or I will kill you.” I sputtered for breath, watched the world start to crumble, listened only to the dripping, which went in a drip, drip, drip drip drip, drip... ... I awake with a gurgling yell, heart in my throat. My room is dark and cramped and hot. Shaking, I feel at my neck--my earbuds, a pair of white wired ones, had wrapped and tangled themselves around my throat while I was asleep. I remember feeling like I had been dying, the air squeezed out of me. Now I know why. The dream, fleeting as it is, horrified me to my core and I feel absolutely awful. I feel as though I’d been hit but a bus, actually. My mouth is dry and my fingers twitch incessantly and my spine spasms as if it is on fire. With great care I sit up and simply stare at the wall, trying to relax and reorient myself. Drip. My head turns, and on the floor of my tiny, tiny home--with only a peeling door, a nightstand, my ratty old bed, and a wardrobe--water spilled out into a large, gooey puddle as it seeped into the wooden floor. Drip, drip . As the dream starts to fizz away into nothing and I begin to shake off my drowsiness, I think to myself that I will most certainly go mad from the sound of the dripping.


Out of all the planets Aitne had seen, Sol was different... Aitne had led a tormented life. Two things were her constant companions- an unbearable, lonely ache, and a curious, tickling pull. A pull to somewhere in this universe. Somewhere in this endless mass of bright pricks in the cosmos. Pull and Ache had accompanied her for many, many years... -Three centuries ago- Aitne woke. She was lying on a flat white stone, in a world filled with a cold sort of beauty. Warm gas clouds swirled in delicate patterns around her, in hues of blue and brown she had not seen before. She looked around. Where was everyone? Then, who am I? Why am I surviving? She felt the tips of her fingers. They were raw and scratched, but very much whole and human. Human... why did she know that word but not her own identity? Languages. She knew them all. She knew all about these humans. Memories flashed through her mind, but they were not hers. Only fragments of knowledge gifted to her from God knows where. A bustling city, full of creatures who looked just like her. Space probes that did not scratch the surface of the vast expanse of the universe. A flurry of birds screeching into the air, disturbed by a passing car. And these humans food. Hot French onion soups, sugared apple pies, steaming stir-fries, tacos and gyros, sushi, and pasta. So they must exist, right? Aitne looked around her bleak surroundings. A human could not survive on this planet, she knew. Her eyes softened. It was a very serene planet. Crisp and cold and unforgiving, yes. But the soaring white cliffs were a wonder to behold. And the hurricane-like clouds that sailed high above her were hypnotizing in their never-ending circles. Aitne could sense the moon’s light, dazzling as a thousand diamonds just outside the gas layer. She longed to see it. And just like that, she was there, hovering with her toes just barely skimming the thick clouds of gas. The stars shined bright, billions of them lighting up the sky. But even brighter were the moons. Varying in size, shape, and color, the only thing they had in common was the great white glow that edged its ragged silhouettes, clinging to them like desperate blankets. Space dust hung limply in the air, in shades of purples, pinks, oranges, even golds. There were colors out here that no human had ever experienced. Human. Aitne frowned. All hopes of being human had been quashed. Yet why did she long for their company so? She reached out her senses. The next planet was not far. She could sense it, revolving around its golden star. An image appeared in her mind. A child squatted next to a model solar system. “Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars...” Aitne gripped fiercely onto the memory, picturing that solar system in her mind. It was where her kin lived. She would find them. She willed herself to the next planet over. She hovered over the ball of twisting gases, looking out at her birth planet. It would need a name. She stared at the moons circling it. Tsukichikyu, she decided firmly. Now to find her kin. It took Aitne a full century to find Earth. It was a tiny, blue planet with an equally small moon. She willed herself closer but allowed herself to go slowly. It was an instinct by now. Aitne always took time to appreciate a solar system’s beauty, no matter how hurried she was. She bit her lip. This was it. Her kin. She had her memories of them, but what if they were different than she imagined? She landed softly on a patch of yellow grass, her toes scrunching up at the touch of the scratchy organism. Smog filled the air, thick and obscuring. The sun glowed red, a perfect orifice patched into the choking sky. She floated forward, pushing apart the smoke with her pale hands. Where was everyone? Akari and Ren rolled around on the grass, laughing. The smog was oppressing, muffling their shrieks of joy and laughter. “You are such an idiot!” “You’re more of an idiot if you actually believed me!” Akari giggled, wiping a tear from her pale green eyes. “You know we shouldn’t be out here at this time. The smoke’s way too bad.” “No one’s out here. It’s a perfect time.” Akari snickered, shutting him up with a soft kiss. Then her eyes widened as she stared over his shoulder. “Actually...” Ren paused, looking behind him. “Oh.” “There is someone out here,” Akari confirmed. She stood, brushing grass off her dress. A figure floated out of the smoke, coming to rest gently on the ground. Her eyes glowed a gentle white, like a mother’s milk. Her skin was dark and smooth, without blemish. Her hair danced behind her, floating in the air like it was syrup. Her lips curved in a heart shape, a pale, strawberry pink. She was beautiful in an innocent, sad way. Akari placed her hand in front of Ren’s eyes. “Excuse me?” The woman smiled at her. “My kin. Yes?” Akari frowned. This woman was strange. “People around here usually wear clothes, in case you haven’t noticed.” The woman smiled. “Thank you, my kin.” She closed her eyes for half a second, and a long, flowing dress appeared around her, decked in colors Akari didn’t know how to explain. She had never seen anything like them. Gossamer threads of fabric flowed behind her, all of the colors of the rainbow, and more sparkling like it had seen a million suns. “What...are you?” Akari asked. “I am not sure,” the creature confessed slowly, her hair swimming in circles behind her. “But I think you are my kin. I do not know why.” “You aren’t human?” Akari asked, frustrated and confused. Who was this lady? “I am from a distant planet called Tsukichikyu,” the woman in the dress said. “My name is Aitne.” Akari burst out laughing. Ren chuckled beside her, deep and soulful sound. “You expect us to believe you’re an alien?” Aitne frowned. “You do not understand me.” She murmured. “Are you truly my kin?” Akari ignored her. What a freak, she thought. “Come on, Ren. We’re going. She’s obviously on drugs or something.” Aitne called out from behind them. “Please, answer me this before you leave!” Akari rolled her eyes. “Fine.” “Who has caused this smoke? This parched grass? This noxious air?” Akari turned back to face the woman, marching up to jab her finger into her chest. “Listen, freak, I know humans are miserable little creatures, but just because you’re in a drugged-up haze, don’t go thinking you’re better than us. You’re human too.” She turned and stormed off through the smoke, feeling only slightly guilty. Aitne watched the girl’s back as she faded into the smoke. She had found her kin. So why did the ache not cease? Why did pain not cease to gnaw at her lonely heart? She was afraid. What if she never knew happiness? What if she was destined to be alone? What if she never found where she belonged? Was this her existence? Endlessly searching for something that wasn’t there, with no way out? She looked up at the stars and willed herself to the brightest one. She found herself skimming the surface of a cloudy, mud-and-orange-colored planet. She was tired. So, endlessly tired... But she knew there was no way out. Not for her. The pull in her heart would not let go. The pull from this universe would not let go. She loved these worlds too much. She loved the beauty of it too much. She placed her hand over her heart, where the ache was strongest. Then she looked up to the stars. She willed herself to the next star in the sky. And the next. And the next. On that day, after a century of searching already, Aitne made a vow. She might not know what exactly she was looking for. But she would never stop until she found it. Out of all the planets Aitne had seen, Sol was different... The planet was in the farthest reaches of the universe, and after years of searching and memorizing each of the planets and solar systems and stars, Aitne knew something was different. Something was strange. It was a white and yellow planet, surrounded by rings of meteors. The white was from snow, and the yellow was to be credited to bright flower fields. A vision flickered through her mind. An endless plain of iridescent, yellow flowers, twisting around each other in a tangle that covered the planet. The sun was warm and yellow- bright, too. Aitne’s heart nearly stopped. This was it. She paused. Ache and Pull hadn’t felt this pronounced since she had visited Earth. She approached slowly, three hundred years of habit taking over her. She knew what she would call this planet- Sol. It was her radiant sun, come to end her suffering and pull her towards the light. She could hear a voice- just snippets of a song. She recognized it- it was a human one. Excitement roared through her. She moved forward slower still. Was this creature singing like her? Not human, but with human memories? She had to know. She paused, sitting to listen to a meteor. “What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing And what do we think we might see? Someday I’ll find it, The rainbow connection...” Aitne sighed, resting her head on her hand. The voice was radiant and beautiful, soft, and thoughtful. “Have you been half asleep, and have you heard voices? I've heard her calling my name...” Aitne smiled for the first time in her long lonely existence. She could wait and listen a while more. After all, she had waited three hundred years. For down there was her soulmate. Her kin.


It’s the start of summer and a baby yellow jacket named Higg is born amongst many siblings. He looks up to his mother, the queen, and the many other workers in the hive for food and support. High continues to grow big and strong and the nest, originally only occupied by the queen, now has thousands of members. But the queen has grown tired and weak. In August, just a few months after the baby yellow jacket was born, He loses his mother and queen. Higg does not know why he was born or what he is supposed to do with his life. He has started wondering “what is my purpose?”. And with that he decides to leave the nest and find his purpose . The first creature the yellow jacket comes across is a honey bee, this bee looks just like him and is flying out of a beautiful red flower, Higg stops and asks the honey bee, what is that you’re doing? The bee lights up with pride and tells the yellow jacket that she is “saving the world one flower at a time”. The bee explains that it pollinates different plants and flowers helping them to spread and grow. “Without bees there is no food and no planet”. Higg was overjoyed to hear that a creature so similar to him had such an important role in the world, he asked if he could follow the honey bee and try to learn to pollinate plants too. The honey bee tried and tried to show Higg how to pollinate but o matter how hard he tried he was not able to do what honey bees do and with a disappointed heart he left the honey bee and flew on to continue his search for his purpose. Soon after he was feeling thirsty and decided to land by a nearby river for a drink. After a refreshing sip he noticed a big dam built further down the river. Higg flew over to see a beaver chewing branches and building this dam higher and higher. The yellow jacket asks the beaver why he is doing that and the beaver tells him that it is “creating an ecosystem”. The beaver says that the trees he cuts down bring sunlight to the Forrest and the pond he creates with his dam improve water quality, helping flourish and even prevent Forrest fires. Higg can’t believe that one creature can do all of these amazing things, he asks the beaver to show him how to make a dam but the yellow jacket cannot even break one tree branch down. He sadly realizes that this cannot be the purpose of a yellow jacket and flies away to keep looking. Higg gets hungry and lands on the ground in a nearby dirt patch to scoop up some smaller insects for lunch. He comes across an earthworm plowing across the soil. The yellow jacket asks the earthworm what it is doing and the earthworm replies that it is making the earth new. The earthworm says that it can make soil much more fertile by recycling dead plants and creatures and freeing up space in the dirt it moves through. Higg tries to eat the dead plants and organisms but cannot create fresh soil, he tries to move through it to create space for water to flow through he can’t burrow through any of the dirt. He becomes fed up with this and flys away losing hope that he’ll ever find his true purpose. The yellow jacket decides to fly further then he has ever been and finds himself in a strange place outside of the woods with streets and houses, he looks for something familiar and finds a grassy backyard to rest. There Higg sees a dog playing with a human, when the dog brings back a stick the human pets it with their hand. Higg approaches the dog and asks what it is doing. The dog tells him that it’s man’a best friend and it’s purpose is to provide support and love to humans. Higg thinks that this is very interesting, no other animal that it has met has done anything like this. Higg decides to give it a try and flys next to the humans hand like the dog did the human swats at him. Higg barley dodges the hand and is terrified that he was almost hit by the human . It flies upward towards the humans face and the human swats again, this time getting even closer but Higg moves out of the way just in time. The human begins to angrily shout “ stupid yellow jacket, these things are useless, they serve no purpose”. At this point Higg realizes, that maybe after all his searching yellow jackets do not have a purpose after all, he feels an angry shaking twitch in his stinger. He points it directly at the human and flys full speed into it. Higg stings the human and it yells at the top of its lungs OW and with power and speed smacks Higgs against its arm. Higg falls to the ground and glances up at the clouds one more time before a large boot smashes down.


The first time that I remember seeing them, I was five and my sister wouldn’t give me the time of day. At first, they were just vaguely humanoid shapes that I’d notice just out of my peripheral vision. I’m not going to lie, they scared the shit out of me for a while there but, as time passed, they became less skittish and I less wary. The first one I saw up close was a little woman about four inches tall. She had green skin, yellow hair, and white eyes. I don’t just mean the irises were white, she had no pupil and no irises like her eyes had rolled to the back of her head. I had been outside playing in the garden and she had lighted on the grass next to me. She slowly creeped towards me, almost as if testing the waters. I sat there unsure of what to do. As she reached out her hand to touch me, my mother called to me from the back door. “Honey, lunch is ready!” The little being grinned, waved, and took off into the bushes. After that incident, I went to the garden everyday to look for my new friend. When a week went by without so much as a glimpse of her, I started leaving little trinkets in hopes that they would coerce her to come out. Two weeks later, my sister had some friends over and they had banished me to the other end of the garden claiming that I was a little kid and would ruin their fun. As I stood by the bushes pouting at the unfairness of it, a little voice called out, “Have you brought me more presents?” Startled, I whirled around to find the green lady peeking out of the bushes. “I-I don’t have anything else for you,” I said as I lay on my stomach to be level with her. “Is that why you’re crying?” she asked. I furrowed my brow. “My sister and her friends won’t let me play with them because they say I’m too little,” I explained. She cocked her head to the side and smirked. “Would you like to make them notice you?” I shrugged and quick as lighting she had moved to the other side of the garden and knocked into the stone birdbath the girls were sitting by. It seemed to fall in slow motion and fell right onto one of the girls’ legs with a sickening thud and audible snap. Screams erupted, the girl was crying, and my dad ran out and immediately lifted the birdbath. There was so much red, and her leg was bent at an awkward angle. The sight that forever haunts me was the bone protruding from the girl’s shin as my father carried her to the car. None of the girls ever came over again. After that, I didn’t venture back into the garden alone and I ignored any shadows that flickered just in my line of sight. It all changed when I was 14 and my sister was 18. We got along well enough even though she was a cool senior and I was her dorky freshman sister. She was going through her “partying stage” (at least that’s what my parents called it) and, since they didn’t like her going out alone and unsupervised, I was routinely drafted to be her chaperone and report and suspicious activity. They figured she wouldn’t get into so much trouble if she had her little sister to take care of. Boy were they wrong. I somehow turned into the (underaged) designated driver for her and her senior friends Stacy and Olivia. Some of the seniors were having a party in the woods just outside of town and lucky me got dragged along. She was talking to some boy by the fire and I went to get a drink. At parties my sister always made sure that I stayed in her line of sight, so it was weird when I turned around and she was nowhere to be seen. As I walked further from the party to the edge of the woods, I could just barely make out voices in the trees. I looked closer and realized it was my sister and a tall lithe boy. And I know what you’re thinking, “Why are you following your sister and some boy away from a party in the middle of the night? Don’t you know what they’re probably going to go do?” But trust me, what really happened was much worse. I followed a little way behind them and struggled not to make any sound as he deftly led my sister through the forest. They weaved through the trees...no the trees seemed to bend out of the way for them. That’s when I noticed that the night had gone deathly quiet. I barely had time to grind to a halt as they stopped at the edge of a clearing. She seemed to be stuck at the wood line as the boy went further in and stopped dead center. He beckoned her forward with his hand and I saw him muttering something. I figured this would be as good a time as any for chaperone little sister to break in. I yelled her name and the boy’s head snapped towards me. I marched up to my sister and pulled on her arm, but she wouldn’t budge. Slowly she turned her head to face me and I realized then that her eyes were a milky white. Eerily like the little woman in the garden. The boy stared at me as he called her name once more and she started to walk towards him. I was screaming at her at this point and pulling her arm so hard that I thought it might pop out of its socket. But this didn’t seem to phase her. As we neared the boy, I noticed that he was standing in the middle of a perfect circle of toadstools. I jerked back as if by some primal instinct and my body screamed at me to get the hell out of dodge. I realized my mistake seconds later and reached out for my sister again. Just as I touched her, her foot crossed the line and she vanished. I stared in horror at where my sister had been only moments before and slowly looked towards the boy. He cocked his head and smirked. “What the hell did you do with her,” I screamed at him. He stayed silent for a moment and his next words chilled me to the bone. “She is mine now. You could join her. Would you give me your name?” I paced outside the toadstool ring. “I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at, but I swear to God I’ll call the cops,” I threatened. His features shown confusion and quickly morphed to glee. “You have the Green Sight!” he chirped. And then he laughed and laughed and laughed. Tears of frustration pooled in my eyes. He stopped and straightened. He looked at me stoically and said, “I will not take you tonight. You will remember while others forget. But only for a while. I will come back for your name one day little one, when you no longer remember and when your Sight fails you.” And with that, he was gone. That was years ago. I am old now and I know my time is coming. I can feel it in my bones. I still live in the house that I grew up in, hoping it would help me remember. Its fuzzy sometimes but every now and then I’ll look into the garden and see green skin, yellow hair, and milky eyes staring back. They know what’s coming too. There are no photographs of her. It’s like she never existed outside of my mind. Even now, she fades, and I’m so far gone that I can’t remember her name. He took it with him, as he’s taken others and as he’ll take mine too.


The woods were spooky, owls hooting and for some reason in sync with the sound of crickets, Eddy had never been there, especially not at night. According to him, anyone with half a brain knew this was where the evil vampire or werewolf in a high school fantasy show gets you to either feast on you or turn you into a monster like him. The only thing compelling Eddy was the thought of a date, one he had been promised by his crush, Evelyn. Ever since the second year of high school, he had been madly in love with her, but she never gave him the time of day or rather never had his time, she was too busy spending time with her brother--her best friend. Evelyn told him to meet her in the basement of the abandoned house in the middle of the woods, she opened the door after hearing him knock, and he was welcomed to a room lit up with candles, chalk markings on the floor, and her in a long black dress, this one he didn’t mind because she looked beautiful in it. They say loss can change a person, and that has been no truer than in the case of Evelyn ever since Jordan died. The thirty-year-old man was not only her only sibling but her best friend, for siblings with an age difference of thirteen, you would think they were fraternal twins, they went to concerts together, restaurants, and most importantly, the cinema. “Did you bring the knife?” Evelyn asked Eddy pulled out a sharp jagged knife from a sheath behind his waist “Yeah I did” “Okay I’ll get the bunny” Eddy worked with his father, the town butcher, ever since he was fourteen, He knew the different ways to slice open different animals, but he had never killed one before. Many boys would buy flowers or read a poem or play a song from a boom box beneath a window so the girl they liked would go out with them, but for Eddy, he was to kill an innocent little rabbit who thought he was gonna have a loving home when he was brought from the pet shop. Evelyn, bunny in hand motioned for him to walk to the center of the circle where she was, of the circle drawn with chalk had three different sets of triangles and signs within it, He was not afraid to show that he was scared, what they were doing looked occult as hell, no, it was occult, he began to regret ever showing Evelyn the website, a website for juju where members claimed they could communicate and even resurrect the dead. At the time Eddy wanted to do anything( he still does) to help Evelyn feel better when her brother died, he was desperate and went searching, he came across the website on the dark web, and then taught Evelyn how to access it, thinking it would at least help her find solace but it did not, and now he has to either report her to a mental hospital or see her go through this to the end, love made him choose the latter. “Do you remember the spell?” He gulped, “I do” Evelyn held on to the rabbit’s limbs, while Eddy raised the innocent creature's head to have access to its neck, they started reciting the spell and before the second verse he slit the poor animal’s throat, the blood splattered around the entire room at first but Evelyn quickly directed its neck to the center of the circle so the blood would flow there. “It’s my turn now,” Evelyn said, putting her hair on his palms “Could you ?” “yeah,” Eddy said, reaching for her long flowing black hair and cutting it down, then spreading it on top of the rabbit’s blood. They both recited the spell once again this time holding hands, the room shook slightly like a mini earthquake and then there was a short moment of silence and then a blinding light, and after, nothing. Eddy and Evelyn opened their eyes “Is that it?” Evelyn asked, looking around hoping she would find her resurrected brother somewhere. Eddy Screamed, and pointed towards the ceiling, there he was his back against the upper walls of the small room and his belly and privates facing the floor, he fell to the floor shortly after. “That was creepy, we agree that was creepy, right?” Evelyn felt too much happiness to feel fear, her brother was back. Eddy woke up tired and still felt weird about the ordeal the night before. “You guys woke up early,” he said to Evelyn and the previously dead Jordan “We didn't sleep” Evelyn replied “Oh” “How is he?” Eddy asked “He’s fine” Jordan interrupted, not liking the fact that he was treated like he was not there “He’s fine,” she said, backing him up “he had some issues speaking last night, but he’s good now” “Riiight” Eddy was skeptical “Hey Evelyn can we talk outside for a bit?” “Sure” she stood up and followed him out “Don’t you think this was way too easy?” “Eddy, I don’t think killing a rabbit is easy, do you?” He couldn't tell if this was her attempt at a joke He scoffed, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” “I don’t know what you mean then, we did what the ritual said and we got good results” “But think about it, if it was this easy” “wasn’t easy” she interrupted “Okay, if it was like this, wouldn't everyone be bringing their loved ones back to life? Come on Evelyn there has to be a catch” “I don’t know Eddy, it seems you regret winning yourself a date with me,” she said, trying to shut him up, she knew he was not wrong, it was kind of easy but her brother was here, and that was all that mattered. “I’m not” “Good then. We’ll go on Saturday be ready” He resigned “I will, and what will you do?” she looked towards the basement where her brother lay, “I’ll take care of him” “Alright. Call me if you need anything” “I will” she added “and Eddy, thank you” Jordan had completely regained his speech, he seemed a different person from the night before, he was no longer scared, cold, or stuttering, he was him, the him she used to know. Evelyn told Jordan all that had passed ever since he passed, the abuse she went through at the hands of their mother, and Eddy’s crush on her, which led to her having her brother back. “You are not going to stay with Mum anymore,” Jordan said. He knew how their mother was, he knew how nasty she could be with words, this was a woman who told him he had the face of a sex addict when he was thirteen, simply because he licked his lips, a woman who said he was in a rush to give oral sex because he wanted to go to his college inauguration. “it’ll be just like before!” She shrieked “I’ll live with you and not have to see Mum again” “Well not exactly like before” he corrected, “I do have to find a place again and a job and the issue of credit cards, I might actually need to move to a new city” Evelyn had not thought about the reactions people would have about a dead man coming back to life, she didn’t take into account how he would reintegrate into society, but that did not matter to her, she would think about it later because right now, Jordan was here, which meant everything would be okay. “We should go see a movie” Evelyn suggested “I haven’t been to the cinema since you know” “Really?” “Yeah” “Not even with the eddy guy?” He teased “oh stop that” she blushed Evelyn had to mention that she was not dating him, but he did want to date her, as a guy Jordan could relate to this quite easily. Her phone rang “Fuck” “Language” “It’s mom and really?” “What?” “you came back from the dead and you are worried about how I talk?” He shrugged, “Resurrection or not, I’m still a big brother” Evelyn rolled her eyes and answered the call reluctantly A strong unladylike voice spoke through the phone “I know you are at the age where you want to stay out and meet boys and let them touch you, but do make sure you get your ass to school” Her mum cut the call before Evelyn could reply “ugh sometimes I just wish she would die” “Done” “What did you say?” Evelyn asked “Nothing” “umm okay,” she said,” I have to go I’ll meet you later and we’ll go to the movies, deal?” “Deal” Evelyn arrived pretty late to school, but the teachers did not chastise her because they knew her predicament, at least what it used to be. Eddy came up from behind her “Hey about the date” She gasped, “Maybe don’t sneak up on me?” “I’m sorry, I just wanted to say I know where to take you for our date” “Where?” “the movies,” Eddy said, all excited “No not the movies,” she said, “anywhere but the movies” “Oh, um can we get a burger at the diner then?” “that works”. For as long as Evelyn could remember, her parents used to fight, they would argue, scream, and throw all types of objects and they did it all in her presence, at age seventeen, Jordan who had grown accustomed to his parent’s ways had pretty much become immune to their toxicity, but he did not wish the same for his sister, because the price he paid for immunity, was constant exposure. Jordan Loved telling stories, so whenever their parents fought, he would take Evelyn as far as he could, and tell her the most magical fairy tail, drama, comedy, or thriller he could come up with, this always made her forget when she turned seven, he took her to the cinema for the first time, for the first time she not only had to imagine a story but she got to see it too, the cinema became their thing, it was not only an avenue to experience stories but also a medium that saved her from her parents toxicity. Her father died soon after her ninth birthday, leaving only their abusive mother. Evelyn immediately headed for the basement the minute school was done for the day, she did not want to think about it, but she could have sworn she saw a slight glint in her brother’s eyes when they spoke in the morning, but it probably meant nothing, at least that’s what she wanted. The basement was Empty even though she had told Jordan to wait for her, there was no way to contact him since he no longer had a phone, and she could not guess where he could have gone, her first instinct was to call Eddy, the only one she’d been able to trust for a while. “Have you checked your house?” Eddy asked after she explained everything to him “No” She panted “Do you really think he’d go there?” “Well, it’s possible, people tend to go to what’s more familiar to them” “Okay I’ll check the house” She ran as fast as she could, it would take her ten minutes to get to her house from the woods if she ran. She burst through the door to the living room and it was empty, the same as the kitchen. she was lost on what to do. Eddy called this time “Did he mention anything to you or you to him when you guys spoke this morning” “I can’t really think of anything” Her head was spinning and her body gave out sweat, “wait, I was a bit mad and I said something about wanting my mum to die and he was like ‘done’” Eddy was right, it was too easy, there was no way that was the same Jordan, but this was not the time to gloat or make her feel bad. “I’m on my way,” he said. She could hear him running from his end. She heard a cry from the bedroom, she had not had time to check it before Eddy called. She saw Jordan's body on the floor, her mum with a gun in her hand, confused and crying profusely “How does he keep getting up", she asked, pointing the gun at the body "Why does he look like Jordan” Evelyn ran behind her mum, “I can explain but we have to go Mum” The pair ran outside, but not before Evelyn glanced at her brother's corpse she just had him, and now she is losing him again. She did her best to stay calm, even making sure her mum did the same “Mum can you tell me what happened?” Her mum could barely form a coherent sentence but she listened hard enough to deduce Jordan had attacked and thanks to her gun she was able to put him, numerous times. “So Jordan can’t die?” she was almost happy to hear that “He kept getting up” her mother gulped amid tears “his wounds healed themselves, and his eyes were glowing black” She fell into Evelyn’s arms for comfort and while it could have been because of the terror of the moment, or guilt, Evelyn let her. Eddy arrived on his motorcycle and immediately ran to the pair “Evelyn,” he said, showing her the PDF in his phone, it was a copy of the spell book she had used, “I asked around the forum and they said we got the spell wrong, there are two ingredients needed” “yes, I know” Evelyn replied “the life of an animal and parts of a person the dead loved” “exactly but we only got the second part right” “What?” “There has to be a balance, Evelyn, to bring a rabbit back, you kill a rabbit, do you get it?” Evelyn's eyes widened “We used the wrong animal!” “We did but there is a way to break the spell for good” “oh no” Evelyn cried “he’ll be gone for good this time” “he never came back, I’m so sorry” Eddy cried, seeing Evelyn in pain hurt him and in a way, he saw himself as the cause since he told her about the site. Jordan burst through the window and caught them outside, Evelyn saw what her brother had become, he was demonic, he was wild, he was... not Jordan. Her mother raised her gun again and with a headshot, Jordan fell once more. “Okay, we need to draw the circle again and you have to recite this spell” he gave her his phone. Everything was prepared and the irony was that the spell did not require Eddy to kill an innocent bunny, it was easier in a sense but the hardest thing any human can do: say goodbye twice. Jordan woke up but Evelyn had recited the spell, his black eyes were normal once more, he smiled, he was Jordan, she looked at her brother and remembered all the stories he told her “I love you, Evelyn” he looked at Eddy and mouthed a thank you, after which his body turned to dust. He was Jordan, but he was gone. Evelyn fell to her knees in the middle of the circle and cried the hardest any human could, Eddy hugged her, she could feel his kindness, his warmth, Jordan was gone but Eddy was there, he always had been. It was two days since the event, Evelyn and her mother cleaned up, and she had explained everything to her mum, who for some reason understood and was calm about it or she was just buzzed as usual. Eddy called to ask how she was, she was happy to hear from him, she wanted him to talk to her for as long as the sun was up “Do you still want to go on a date with me?” “I thought we already had one planned” she smiled “Eddy, I'd like to go to the movies with you” “I’d really love that, Evelyn.” THE END


The day before Emily went missing, I ran seven miles in the predawn chill, slipped and landed on the icy pavement on my way back. I shook it off, my bloody left knee be damned, to finish one more mile. It’s really not safe to run solo, or go anywhere alone here. I don’t really care, because running is my escape from everything I hate about my life. The wind grazing my back, the solitude and the peace of it all fills me with the best natural high I can get. I strolled back to my room, showered, bandaged my leg and read for class before I changed into jeans and an Astros sweatshirt for our 10:00. The lecture began when I arrived, and I was powering up my laptop when Emily sashayed in, a leather backpack slung over her shoulder, wearing a bulky white cable knit, cutoffs, and flip flops, on a forty degree day. When she tossed her designer sunglasses onto her fuchsia notebook, I noticed she had no pen, so I fished a blue one out of my bag. When she had it, thanks to the guy sitting in front of me, she winked as she mouthed “thanks''. When class ended, I packed my stuff, with the few notes I'd taken, and glanced up at Emily. “Hey, babe! Thanks again for the pen,” Emily said, readjusting her backpack on her shoulder. I nodded. “You hungry? I barely made it here and skipped breakfast.” I felt famished, realizing my last meal was sometime before 6pm. “I want a burger, or some pizza!” Emily said. “Lead the way, Em.” A few minutes later, we stood in line at the pizza bar- a pepperoni for her and a Margherita for me. We settled at a patio table. I would have preferred to eat inside, but Em loves the outdoors in any type of weather. Silverware clinked, snatches of conversations filled the air. A breeze brushed Emily’s hair as she picked the toppings from her cheesy slice, popping one between her cotton candy pink lips. “Ready for break?” Emily asked, stuffing a piece of tomato in her mouth. “Hadn’t really thought about it, since I’ll be working for most of it,” “Well, I’m ready, this semester has been super tough,” Emily said. She chomped a second slice, lips curling and lashes fluttering. I shivered, and nearly dropped my slice beside the table leg. “Anna, you OK?” “Just tired, and a little chilly.” I pushed around my second slice, with less than a handful of basil leaves and overripe tomatoes. “Davis and I have a date tonight. I’m not sure why I said yes, but maybe it’ll be fun,” Dark circles curtained Em’s eyes, and her shoulders drooped. “Do you know what he’s planning?” I really didn’t want to know. “Probably dinner and a movie, not sure.” I eyed the clock above our heads. Instead of wishing her well and heading off to avoid being late, I said, “Are you sure you want to do this?” Emily’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean- that I shouldn’t date Davis, Anna?” “I’ve heard that he’s a creep, Em. Concerned is all I am.” “Just because you hate every guy here doesn’t mean I have to!” Em elbowed her drink off the table, which splashed on me as I caught it. The corners of her mouth twitched as I nestled her bottle beside her plate, but she didn’t speak. “I don't hate anyone, Emily. I’m just not interested in any of them.” My heart raced as if I were in the middle of a sprint. “Emily?” “What, Anna?” She piled sauce-stained napkins onto the empty plate. “I apologize if I offended you. Have a good time tonight, and let me know when you make it back, OK?” Emily gave me a curt nod before she sauntered away without a goodbye. My stomach ached, and I couldn’t figure out if my soggy pizza or her stormy exit was the source of my uneasy feeling. Emily and I had never argued in 3 1/2 years. The only time I’d ever seen her upset happened when she told me about her grandmother, who died the summer before our freshman year. Even though she knew her Gran’s illness was incurable, Em was inconsolable, having lost her best friend. I racked my brain to understand her reaction during a brisk walk to the Science Building. After our lab ended, I stayed to finish my assignment, because I hate having things hanging over my head-chores, assignments, whatever. Then, I traded my button down and jeans for fleece, grabbed my earbuds and phone, topped off my refillable bottle and added a few leaves of basil from my plant. When I reached University, wispy cotton ball clouds replaced the bright sunshine. I didn’t notice anyone trailing me until I reached the intersection of University and North Hampton, three miles from campus. “Cold out, huh?”, the voice said. I nodded at the hoodie clad girl. “Haven’t I seen you, in the Science Building?” she asked, turning her head to reveal a chunky braid, a smile playing across windburned lips. I noted her height, nearly equal to my own, and that I’d never seen her on campus. I stepped to the edge of the sidewalk to stretch my stiff right calf and hoped she’d take the hint to leave. “Maybe,” If I crossed here, I could go all the way to the Gardens and loop back to campus. The girl reached into her pocket, and I sprinted across the street against the signal. I heard her shouting, “Hey, come back for a sec” when I was halfway down North Hampton, near the Botanical Gardens. I peered over my shoulder, beyond grateful that she hadn’t followed. A while back, I discovered a hidden way into the park near its entrance, allowing me to skirt the park’s perimeter. I darted between twisted, fragrant pines, their bare branches resembled gnarled arms that threatened to crush someone. I was gasping for breath when I stopped at the entrance to campus, rounding the corner where I saw another one of those flyers. This one showed a girl I’d seen a few times, her hair streaming behind her, poised and perfect. When a disappearance happens, there’s an uproar for a week or so, a vigil on the Lawn, and these annoying flyers. Then, we have these forums with the campus police, about varying our routines, and they appear outside the buildings for a few days, especially during evening classes, to monitor and encourage us to travel in pairs or small groups. But I don’t care. I'm not worried about going it alone, because no one would want to snatch me-what would be the point? Once I made it back and changed, I read my bio chapters. At 2:30, when I couldn’t summarize another paragraph, I grabbed my phone and dialed Emily’s number. She didn’t answer, so I decided to call it a night. The next few days raced by, between classes and study sessions, and I hadn’t heard from Em. I went over and knocked on her door to no reply. Before I left, I stopped at the hall office to leave a message for her with RA, who barely looked up from her book when I explained I had not heard from Emily in half a week. I walked to my morning class and watched Davis Walters tromp through the quad, trailing a gorgeous brunette in a red miniskirt, his lips screwed up into a scowl. The girl ducked into the Arts Building. I followed Davis as he entered the Student Center cafe. He cradled a water bottle, then grabbed a muffin. Next. he unfolded what looked like a $20 and thrust it at the cashier. I swiped my own card, and watched him dash toward the exit, disappearing when I reached the lobby. I could take the direct approach and talk to Davis. Or, I could confront him and threaten to share my suspicions, with no real evidence to support them, with Campus Police. Then, there was the third option, but for that, I needed the element of total surprise. After I emailed and left yet another voicemail on Emily’s phone. Then, I decided to take a risk. Inside his Davis’ building, I passed a deserted front desk to a long corridor, and noted the nameplates on the doors. I tried the second floor and stopped halfway down the hall when I saw Davis’ name on the placard. Could it be this easy? Later that night, I rifled through my closet for anything resembling the white jumpsuit I’d seen the cleaning crew members wear. I unearthed an ancient white T-shirt and hip hugging white jeans. probably not the best attire for the job-dark colors would be a better way to blend in during the commission of a break-in. I arrived at his residence hall and waited outside the door of Davis’ room until a familiar face approached. “If you’re looking for him, he’s on a date,” he said. “He said I could borrow his notes.” The guy chuckled. Tall, with a wide grin and smooth, manicured hands, he stepped closer. “It’s Saturday night, darling. Why don’t you come over and wait here with me? Or, we could go out somewhere.” “Another time, maybe?” I bit my tongue on what I really wanted to say-when hell freezes over. Davis’ neighbor shrugged and returned to his room. He'd definitely remember me, but I’d come this far, and I had only my life as I knew it to lose, and the life of my friend. I ducked inside the unlocked crew closet and left the door cracked to watch the hallway. 30 minutes later, I was ready to give up. How the hell would I get in, since these doors had locks I had no idea how to pick? I didn’t see anyone else on duty whose keys I could use (or steal), which they’d be unlikely to do anyway when they realized I didn’t belong. Yet, something urged me to stay. I emerged from the closet and made my way to Davis’ door. I grasped the doorknob. Hoping against hope, the door opened. Providence and entry granted. The room resembled the aftermath of a rushed date prep. Sweaters were strewn across chairs and the scent of a pungent aftershave hung in the air. I dropped a boot on the carpet, and a shallow echo bounced off the walls, though nothing fell out of the shoe. When I heard a key turn in the lock, I grabbed my stuff and pushed up the window. The door opened, and I threw myself out into the endless, frigid darkness. I awoke shivering. My entire left side, especially my shoulder, ached with the pain of 1,000 jabs. My knee pulsed as if it had been slammed by a jackhammer. Davis peered down at me from his window. “What the hell?” Before he made it down to confront me, I hauled myself up and across campus. Somehow, I settled myself onto my bed and didn’t stop the tears soaking my pillow, mangled and no closer to finding Emily. I woke up at 6:30, feeling as if I’d been in a car wreck. The headache was the least of it, and my shoulder hurt so much I wanted to saw it off, along with my grapefruit sized knee. Later, during my appointment at the Health Center, I endured the painless, tiresome lecture from a nurse on personal safety. I would need to begin physical therapy for my shoulder, and she gave me a brace for my sprained knee, which I was assured would heal. Thankfully, the pain meds provided some relief and a dreamless ten-hour sleep. When I awakened, I flipped on the lamp switch and noticed a brown mailer under the door. When I tugged the flap, a tattered, bloodied wristband with a 6 digit number printed on it slid out into my hand. Then, I shook out a light yellow card with a phone number printed on the bottom. On the back of the card was a logo, the silhouette of a female and something resembling a Greek letter. Somehow, I knew this was not a calling card for a sorority or group I would want to join. I dialed the number and heard two clicks and a long beep, no response or outgoing message. With trembling fingers, I stuffed everything back inside the mailer for Campus Police. On Thursday, the last day of the semester, I dragged myself out of bed at the last moment. I tried to move my shoulder when I shrugged off the sling, and bullets of pain shot through my side. After I popped another pill, I dressed for the day and hobbled out into the nearly freezing temps for class. I was so lost in thought that I never saw it coming. The dark green van appeared beside me, and a pair of hulking arms encircled and carried me away. The last thing I remember is the pain coursing through my shoulder, before the world faded away. When I awakened, my voice wouldn’t allow me to scream. A searing, stabbing pain coursed through my entire being. My clothes had been changed into a stiff white gown tied with a silver sash, which my reddened blotchy skin loathed. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and I propped myself against a stone wall, drenched in fear and confusion. A door clicked open, a shaft of light streamed onto the wall. A petite woman in a blue surgical cap and mask hovered over me. She snipped off my wrist restraints with surgical scissors and checked my pulse and vitals, her ice cold stethoscope a shock to my clammy skin. The woman shook her head before she disappeared. Sometime later, I realized I wasn’t dreaming when a blast of frigid air swept over me. a package of animal crackers and a bottle of water were tossed onto the floor near me before the door closed, and I crawled to get the food. I’d made a mistake by playing detective. Because I tried to find her on my own, I had put us in more danger. Because I spent so much time alone, no one would have any idea that I’d been taken. I sobbed until there were no tears left, and another memory of Dad, Mom and Jenny in the yard making a snowman during a rare blizzard aced through my weary mind. I would have given anything to return to that time, my heaven on Earth. I woke up to another woman standing over me, this time accompanied by a pair of hulking men clad in black leather. She wielded an enormous needle, a clear liquid streaming onto the floor. It was now or never. I sank my teeth into her hand and broke free as one of the goons lunged for me. The second one attended to screaming Nurse Wicked, giving me the opening I needed. My chest burned and drummed as I scampered through a dim corridor. A stench pierced my nostrils, an odor so foul I stopped to catch my breath. A woman was sprawled on the floor, her wrists bound and blood gushed from a forehead gash. One of the lumbering assholes closed in. I staggered up three flights of stairs, using my good shoulder to nudge the stairwell door, which led to a place I never expected-the first floor of the Science Building. Brilliant beams of light flooding through the enormous windows blinded me, and I leaned against a wall, noticing the stares of students who surrounded me. “Help me!” Sandy from my bio lab grasped my shoulder. “Who did this to you, Anna?” she asked. My field of vision narrowed, and I could no longer stand. “Anna, wake up!” The cool tile felt like sweet relief to my aching head. Two weeks later, I had recovered and returned home to celebrate New Year’s with my parents and Jen. What I learned later was that the missing women were snatched and held by a group of radical individuals operating all over the country for the purpose of impregnating them against their will. Our university received money for each student who was stolen, more than each one paid in tuition. My escape led to the rescue of the other victims in that basement, including Emily. The entire plot was revealed by an administrator that involved more than a dozen schools across the country. Needless to say, I never returned to campus, being given the option to complete my final semester remotely, free of charge. But, I never attended medical school. I was accepted into a creative writing program to earn a graduate degree. I wrote an essay, which I submitted to one of the few remaining independent publications aimed at young women. I poured every bit of terror and anger I’d felt into that piece, and it was accepted six months later by the magazine. As for Emily and I, we spoke for eight hours until well after midnight when she’d finished reading my piece. “So, you really don’t want to be a doctor, Anna?” “Not at all, and it’s not just because of what happened.” “Well, you definitely have what it takes to be a great writer, Anna.” “I guess. Hey, I’m sorry about that day, Emily.” “You don’t have to apologize, Anna. You were just concerned.” “As misplaced as it was.” “But who could have known? Anyway, pizzas are on me when I’m in town next, OK?” I was sure she could see the grin spreading across my face. “I can’t wait, Em.”


Halloween's time!! People dressed up as different creepy creatures, Streets filled up with trick or treats, Oh!! Here comes Alan and Alex, Both looking creepy, Ah, They were Damon and Stefan... Woah!! Am a big fan of Vampire Diaries, being in a crowd of clown, Frankenstein and Pumpkins. Alex noticed something weird, he found one of the old man in a long black beard with a black dress on, Looked like he was stalking them on their every move, He had a creepy smile, Alan approached towards him to talk, In seconds, He vanished into the crowd, That’s crazy, They searched him for a while, then got back to the party, They left the party soon and headed up towards their trailer, walking down the road as a vampire, Alan noticed something at the edge of the road, Board pointing towards the west marking “GRAVEYARD”. The Graveyard has not been used for years was kept abandoned, Alan quickly asked Alex, “Can we spend the night in a graveyard”. Alex replies, Oh, “That’s a perfect plan Alan”. Let’s Go do Something Crazy, Both of them heading towards the yard, “It looked a lot bigger than they have imagined”. Gate of the graveyard is creepy, half open looks like someone is inside, That’s Suspicious, As they moved further, Alan and Alex heard something, moving towards the bush, Suddenly a creature bounced back. Oh, that’s Dooby, Alan, “How come you are here”. Strange!! Alex laughingly, I Guess, “He sniffed us back here”. They took Dooby with them, passing by the gate, they saw the same old man standing who stalked them before, He looked creepy and funny, Not bothering, crossing the old man. He spoke in a low voice, warning them not to go and smiling creepily, But, Alan and Alex followed by Dooby, walking faster. Planned to settle in a comfortable spot, Alex wanted to have a quick trip which was weird at 2am in the middle of the graveyard. Night was getting colder, Cool Breeze touched their cheeks and neck. They sat in one of the bench, talking stuff about ghost and witches, Alan asked Alex, “Do you think they are real”. Alex replied, “I don’t really believe in them as it's just a belief travelled among people”. Dooby starts to frown in a low tone, In a while, Alex saw someone approaching them from an opposite side, looked like a girl in a white gown, Alan dusting his shirt, waiting to have a talk with her. Alex punching him, What if it’s a ghost!! Alan, “She might have come to visit her lost relative and by the way she looks a lot like human”. Come on dude, Let’s go talk. As she came towards them, Alan clearing his voice, “Hi, It's nice to meet you”. Sadly, She didn’t respond. Alex laughing, “That was quite embarrassing”. Alan smirking, Let's see where she goes. That girl was moving in a different direction rather than heading towards the exit, Looks like she has been possessed, After a while, They found the girl fainted in the middle of the way Alan tried to wake her up, But Alex alerted him, They both hid behind the tree not knowing what had happened, Dooby ran behind the bush too, Alex found a crowd approaching her which was quite nasty at the midnight, Alan felt a bit scary, That’s unusual. Alex guessing those people as zombies. There were like six to eight people, as they came closer. Alan guessed them as witch and warlocks. Alan freezing, I can’t believe my own eyes. Why are they acting so weird? That’s what they are, watching them, Alex suddenly in a low voice, Oh My Freaking God!! They all were in a circle of fire, looked a lot like a ritual. They had that girl as a bait, Alex couldn’t watch. Walking out of the tree, As he went near them, He was trapped in a fire circle too. He froze, Alan had no clue to help him back, He waited for a while to see what their intentions were but waiting longer is of no use. Witches and Warlocks chanting, Girl’s body turned blue, She started floating in the air with her white dress flowing all over. Alan couldn’t bare, he didn’t want Alex to suffer in the middle, As it was him who asked Alex spend night in graveyard which was insane. Throwing himself, he tried to make Alex come out of the ring, Dooby barking and frowning at the witches. Alan caught their eyes on him, fear burst out!! Both of them shivering. One of the warlock with his horns came forward frowning at the Alan. Someone screamed, “Stop”. Alan sighing hard, quickly looked back. Oh!! That’s the Stalker, smiling in the same creepy way, The old man came forward to the warlock and said they are not part of our ritual, Warlock frowned and turned back to the girl, As Alan went to thank him, he found the old man chanting, In a blink, He disappeared. At the same time, Alex's ring of fire faded into the thin air, The Warlocks and witches with the girl disappeared leaving no scars, That’s totally insane and creepy, They didn’t want to stay in the yard , Alan, Alex and Dooby ran out of the gate, joined the road and couldn’t believe what just had happened, As they were walking, In half a way, They found Dooby disappearing, Alex said Alan, “I don’t think if I say others, They would believe me “. Alan replying, “Am worried about Dooby, I don’t want him to get hurt “. As they reached the trailer, Insane!! Unbelievable, That’s Dooby shaking his tail harder, Alex ran into Dooby petting him, Alan kissing him badly, Went into the trailer, Moving into the trailer and bumping into one of the bed, Alex found something strange on his bed, It was some kind of note, “Never try to track us, You would end up harmed “. Frozen like an ice, Staring at each other, They couldn’t sleep the entire night, Alan shaking, “I don’t want this to happen again in our life”. Guess this is our worst creepy Halloween, We have ever had. Alex accepting the day, making his heart stronger. Alan took it as advice that they were lucky to have each other back, We should never be on their way, Alex started to laugh loudly, It’s all my fault, we really shouldn’t have followed the girl, Alan, I warned you but I guess we have learned the lesson”. Warning!! To the readers, Everything in this world is a “MYSTERY”. Mystery is better than a misery, If you guys try to stir it up, You would end up in consequences, So, It's better to leave the other side all alone.


She couldn't see me coming. She didn't even know I existed. I would just be a face from the street, a stranger that she might have seen before. But i know her. I see the way she swings her hips as she walks. I know that she plaits the under-layer of her hair when she gets nervous, and that she bites her lips when she tries not to cry. I know that every night she goes into her apartment, completely oblivious to the fact that her windows face the street, that everyone can see in. She'll put her hair in a bun, change into some pyjamas, usually shorts and a vest top, and sit on her couch to watch Netflix. Her cat will snuggle into her side, and she will stroke his soft fur as she watches the screen in front of her. Then she will pause it and make herself a drink. It depends on her day. Wine for the bad days, tea for the good. If it's an especially bad day, she takes the wine bottle with her to the lounge area, as opposed to putting it back in the fridge. No boys ever go near her apartment, and on occasion a friend will go in. Here's the thing, Jenny is not the most social of people. Most of her friends are online. So she depends on them to keep her company, but they can't keep her warm at night. Not like I can. As I make my way into the building, wearing my uniform, she walks straight by me. She is talking to someone on the phone, but even still, she takes a break to smile at me as she passes. Her face seemed to glow as her lips curved into a smile. Those lips. She began to climb the stairs, her heels clicking as she walks. That's another thing about Jenny, she is deathly afraid of elevators. Even though she lives on the fourth floor, she would rather climb the stairs, no matter how tired she is, or how many groceries she is carrying. Tonight was the night though. I promised myself i would wait until the day she wore the colour red. Normally she stuck to neutral colours, so that her coworkers don't point it out. They have a habit of doing so, or at least i heard her telling her friends she did. I finished cleaning up the lobby, and made my way to the basement to the 'janitor's office'. It was basically a broom cupboard with a broken desk in it. However, i had access to most of the building's utilities. Though i wasn't trained to go near them. But the maintenance man often refused to show up for work, and issues in the building were not an unusual occurrence. Leaky pipes, rats and blocked water filters were fairly common, especially within the last few months. So with the picture of Jenny in my mind, i made my way over to the breakers, switching the fuse to one that had been previously blown, and allowing the leaky pipe to drip onto it. I heard the unmistakable fizzle of electricity, and made my way to the exit. People in the building could be heard rustling around in their apartments, likely looking for candles or torches. I walked slowly up to the fourth floor, and knocked on her door. "Oh, hello. Can I help?" Her strawberry blonde hair flowed loosely around her shoulders as she leaned her head out of the door, likely trying to see if it was just her apartment. "I was just coming to check on how you're doing. Maintenance has been called, and they should be here soon." I explained with a smile, and her composure seemed to relax a bit. "Would you like to come in?" She stepped back slightly. "Sure. It's Jenny, right?" I followed her into the small apartment, and clicked a torch from my waistband on, so that we could see. I closed the door, and silently turned the lock. "Yes, and i'm really sorry, but i don't actually know your name. Wine?" "Cameron, and yes please." I made my way around the apartment, shining my torch on various items, and taking in the sweet scent of vanilla that stayed around everything that she owned. She made her way towards me, and we sat on her sofas. "I think i have some candles in the kitchen drawer, let me just go check." She smiled as she made her way out of the room. As she left i properly took in her appearance. She was dressed in some black shorts and a white knitted jumper. I could see the straps of a black bralette sticking out from underneath the jumper, and i struggled to hold in a groan. When she was out of sight, i fished the small vial of liquid from my pocket, and poured it into her drink. She returned again, and lit the candles, which gave the room a warm glow, making it seem even more romantic, and i felt my muscles tense. We got to talking, and eventually i saw her eyelids begin to flutter closed, the orange-tinted light shining on her face. I reached out and stroked her face, allowing my fingers to run over the dimples and curves of her face. My pulse raced as I watched her sleep, and then I laid a blanket over her, and sat on the chair opposite her keeping my eyes steady on her as her chest rose and fell. Then, once the lights came back on, i picked her up, and carried her to the elevator, where i pressed the ground floor level. She stirred slightly in her sleep, and i smiled down at her sleeping figure. I carried her out to my van once we reached the bottom, and climb into the back with her. Her delicate wrists were easy to put into the zip ties, but i was careful with the tape over her mouth, sticking it down and placing a gentle kiss over it. I finally had my strawberry blonde angel.


Plink My world is spinning out of control. I’m tumbling helplessly in a hot, humid hell. Not only is it hot and humid, it’s dark and noisy. I feel like I’ll never get out of this place. I hate the clothes dryer. Tossing, turning, and tumbling around in here with me are a couple of tee shirts, one of those shirts with a little reptile embroidered on it, a bunch of briefs with sagging elastic, any number of socks with grayed soles, and a pair of jeans. Last and least, there is a pair of black satin boxers with red hearts on them; they’re downright embarrassing. They’re the reason we’re here in a Laundromat, instead of at home, where we belong. I’m the oldest of the bunch, but I’m also in the best shape. I may be a humble chambray shirt, but I’m sturdy and handsome. There is a faint plink. Damn! I think I lost one of my buttons. It’s been hanging by its threads for weeks now. No one could be bothered to sew it down and now it’s gone. I’ll bet that when The Guy comes back to get us, he won’t even notice the missing button and I’ll never get it back. It’s easy to get overlooked when you’re a little button. Plink. Plink. Plink. If the cycle doesn’t stop soon the plinking is going to drive me nuts. The dryer sheet that’s supposed to make us soft and static-free is loathsome. The odor permeates my every fiber, lingers for days. I’d puke if I had a mouth, but all I have are buttonholes. I wish we were at home, where the woman with the brown, callused hands pinned us on a clothesline. I love dancing in the wind, feeling the warmth of the sun. When we’re dry, the Brown-Skinned woman takes us down, smoothes us with those same strong hands, and carefully folds us. The others get put away as they are, but she’d carefully iron me. She understands my value. I wish she lived with us, but she comes in only once a week. Plink. Plink. Plink. I want to be back in my closet where I hang next to the pink silk blouse. I love the softness and scent of the blouse. Like the woman who wears her, Miss Pink Silk smells of flowers and spice; it’s a perfume the Pale Woman calls Dolce Vita. Occasionally the Pale Woman would wear me. It was nice, even when her hair tickled my collar. Her skin is soft as the silk blouse. The Brown-Skinned woman does not wear me; she only takes care of me Plink. Plink. Plink. Ours was a happy house until those black boxers showed up. I don’t know where they came from; I just know that there was a lot of screaming and door-slamming when the Fair-Haired woman found them. The closet door was ajar and I saw The Pale Woman throw the black shorts in The Guy’s face. She wasn’t pale then; her face was as red as the hearts on the shorts. Now, no more Dolce Vita. No more hanging around with the pink silk blouse. No more tidy closet in a nice old house. Now we live in a cramped closet in a one-bedroom apartment. No more Brown-Skinned woman to take care of us, to sew my button back on. I hate having a gap right in front so everyone in the world can see how ill-cared for I am. When The Guy thinks to wash us, which is seldom, he stuffs us in a duffle bag and hauls us here. Afterward, we’re lucky if we get put away. Some of the time I hang in the closet, un-ironed; other times I hang on the backs of chairs or on doorknobs. There are a few barbaric times when I lie wadded in a corner of the bedroom or, worse yet, get tangled in the bed sheets. It’s a most humiliating situation for a loyal chambray shirt. Plink. Plink. Plink. It’s a wonder the button doesn’t melt in this heat. Finally, the dryer grinds to a halt. Naturally, the jeans land on top of me. I hate being under the jeans, they’re heavy and rough and still somewhat damp. Socks are scattered all over. UGH! The black boxers are wrapped around my right sleeve. I wish I could move my sleeve by myself. I’ll just have to endure; it’s my lot in life. At least the plinking has stopped. I hope The Guy hurries up and gets us; I don’t want any wrinkles to set in me while we wait. Thank goodness it’s quiet now. Waiting in the dark. Reeking of the dryer sheet, which is between me and the jeans. But not between enough, a bed sheet between us would be about right. Gag! Flopping around in here with it was bad enough, having the dryer sheet on top of me is unspeakable. We probably haven’t been waiting forever, it only seems like it. Damn it! I want out of here. Even being shoved into a duffle bag wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully, The Guy would eventually take us out and throw away that damned dryer sheet. The last time I was in a dryer static electricity made the dryer sheet stick to my back. The Guy never noticed. Can you imagine how humiliating it was to be worn around town with that stupid thing stuck to me? Someone yanks open the dryer door. A moon-like face peeks in. It’s a woman, but it’s not our Pale Woman. When she sees the dryer is full, she slams the door. After a while, the next dryer rumbles to life. When is The Guy coming back? Doesn’t he realize we’re waiting? And waiting. After what seems like half of forever, the dryer door is yanked open again. This time it’s a man wearing a black baseball cap from which white hair sticks out. He mutters a curse, hauls us out of the dryer, and dumps us on top of another machine, then stuffs his own wad of wet clothes in, dropping a pair of briefs on the floor in the process. He curses the briefs, as if it was their fault for falling, throws them in the dryer, and starts the machine. Out here we at least have air, but it’s as noisy as being in the dryer. Coins clatter out of the change machine. Washers and dryers groan and whine. Something thunks and one of the machines starts to rattle. A mother with a couple of children comes in; she’s carrying a hamper of laundry so full she can barely see over the top. The kids yelp like puppies. There were no children at our house. I know the Black Boxers were largely responsible, but I can’t help wondering if The Pale Woman would have let The Guy stay home if there had been children. A blond woman spreads a gray plastic trash bag under the door of one of the dryers before starting to empty it. In seeming defiance, a pair of lavender panties leaps over the bag and drops onto the bare linoleum floor. The woman picks them up, slaps them against her leg, and stuffs them in a hamper. Everything here, except the machines, is plastic: The beige tops of the folding tables, laundry baskets, blue molded chairs, a forlorn green plastic plant in a woven plastic basket. A TV attached to a bracket in a corner, up by the ceiling, mumbles and mutters. It’s ignored. Like us. The Guy we are waiting for does not come. At last, everyone has gone. A woman with brown hair pinned up behind her head vacuums the floors and runs a rag over the tables where people fold clothes and take them home. Finally, she grabs up the lot of us and dumps us in a cardboard box where a red tee shirt and a dark green sock already wait. This time I’m on top, free of the despised heart shorts. I can still smell the damn dryer sheet. If The Guy doesn’t hurry, they’ll lock the doors and he won’t be able to get us tonight. And that’s what happens. All but one light in the back goes out. The TV is turned off. One last car flashes its brights through the plate glass windows, then backs away and disappears. Outside the sky is dark as a pair of brand new jeans. Silence at last. What happened to our person? Why isn’t he here? Will he come tomorrow? How can you forget your laundry? Especially your blue chambray shirt. I don’t think there were any more briefs left in the drawer, so he needs those saggy shorts. We only get washed when there’s nothing else to wear. I wonder how long that green sock and red tee shirt have been here? What will happen to us if The Guy never comes? I’ll bet my poor button is still in the bottom of the dyer. I almost miss the plinking.