Prone to overthinking, Craig was having to keep himself in check. After 11 months with Vanessa this was their first Valentine’s Day and his friends had asserted that her expectations would be high. But the card and flowers he’d chosen had hit the sweet spot of extravagant, elegant and beautiful. She’d loved them. Everything was going well. Until she presented him with his card. “Thank you for the last 11 months,” she’d written. “I love you to the moon and back,” His heart swam. Yet, his head wouldn’t settle. “Dude, this isn’t good,” his subconscious murmured. “What? What do you mean?” he thought, concerned. “You mean... er...” his subconscious was flustered. “It... it doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything,” “Go on. What is it?” “It doesn’t matter. It’s just me. You know what I’m like when we’ve had a drink. Please forget I said anything. Just enjoy the evening,” Vanessa leans in, and they kiss. She takes a picture of the flowers to send to her friends and mother before they snuggle into the sofa to watch the evening trickle away in front of the TV. “Mum says you’ve done good,” Vanessa says, after her phone bleeps. “That’s one down,” he replies. “Hopefully your girls will think the same,” “They’re a tough crowd, but I think you may have just done enough,” she says, rubbing his arm. Sinking into the sofa Craig feels calm, peaceful and content. “Well, I say it doesn’t matter,” his subconscious chimes in again. “It kind of does,” But Craig doesn’t respond. Love Island has begun and the beautiful people begin a task called ‘The Good, The Bad and the sexy’. Had people worn the garments on display here, the old west would have been rife with sunburn, chaffing and yeast infections. “And when I say it matters, what I mean is it’s A REALLY BIG FUCKING DEAL!” “What the hell’s going on?” “She doesn’t love us anymore,” his subconscious sulks. “How d’you work that out?” “Look at the card. What does she say?” “She says she loves us,” “No, look closer,” He picks up the card to scan the inside. Noticing this, Vanessa snuggles in closer. “You’re just a big softy you aren’t ya?” she says. “Yeah, that’s me,” “She says she loves us to the moon and back,” he replies to his subconscious. “Exactly! There’s a clause,” “What are you talking about?” “Think about it. If she loved us unconditionally, then she’d have put just a simple ‘I love you’ or ‘I love you lots’. But here she loves us a finite amount, ‘to the moon and back’. Not any more than that! Sure, she’s chosen a beautiful planetary body, but it’s literally the closest one to us. Uranus is further, and she’d have scored more points for comedy value if she’d put that,” “You’re being paranoid. It’s just an expression,” “Am I? *Am I*?” “Of course you are. Look at her,” together they look down at Vanessa, her head resting on a cushion on his thigh and a hand resting on his knee. “You don’t have this level of intimacy with someone you’re looking to chuck,” “I’ve got one thing to say to you... Gemma Crichley,” Craig flinches. Aged 17 at a party in Danny Jackson’s house he’d spent hours holding Gemma’s hand, putting in the ground work, only to return from a beer run to find Jonathan Hunter plying her with Bacardi Breezers before sticking his tongue down her throat. “This is completely different,” “Is it? *Is it*? Just watch her,” Back on Love Island the cowboys are saving their damsel’s in distress in the traditional fashion. Each has to untie their partner from railway lines using their teeth before sweeping her up and kissing. In speedos and chaps. “There you go, did you feel it?” it asks. “Feel what?” “Her heart beat faster when that guy with the fancy hair came on. She clearly fancies him,” “So, what if she does? Everyone fancies someone off TV,” “True, but look at him. He’s well over 6 feet, big muscles and with no identifiable hair on his body. He’s some sort of human 2.0., how can we compete with that?” “We don’t have to compete with that. This show is not representative of society. They’re selected because of their physical features. They aren’t going to put someone ‘normal’ on TV because people think it doesn’t sell. But, she doesn’t compare us to them in the same way that we don’t compare her to... Scarlett Johansson,” “Bullshit, and you know it! Everyone compares everyone to everyone. Your hair matters, your clothes matter, the size of your pecker most definitely matters. Anyone that’s says it doesn’t is a liar or an idiot,” Craig fidgets. Not wanting to admit it to himself, but something in those words had touched a nerve. He tries to shake it off, but the guy with the hair is back and trying to be funny. He can feel his bile rising. When you have low body fat then surely you don’t need to infringe on funny. To make matters worse, his really obvious punchline had everyone falling about. Vanessa chuckles. “You couldn’t have got away with that kind of joke. You’d have to Bill Hicks the shit out of something to even crack a smile,” The chuckle turns to a full-blown laugh. “All that needs to happen is for her to find him funny. That’s the first in. She fell for you because of your sense of humour, but if someone else can out-funny you, then it all boils down to who brings it physically. And can you compete with that?” Despite his staunch resolve, Craig can feel his common sense being sodomised by the crazy phallus of his subconscious. Every single imaginable situation where he had seen Vanessa conversing with a man was now being analysed - the Amazon delivery guy that always gives a lingering wink - the Barista who’d asked her if she liked it milky - the green grocer that suggestively handed her the cucumber. “If you are right, and I’m not saying you are. Then what should I do?” There’s silence until his sub conscious replies quite matter-of-factly. “It’s simple. You do something spectacular!” “Spectacular?” “Yeah, you can’t sit back now, you’ve left it too long. We’re beyond the point of no return. You have to go nuclear,” “Shit!” he thinks, chastising himself for sleeping through all those Richard Curtis films. What could he do? Did he know how to go full-on nuclear? Or could he just dirty bomb? Better still could we get away with something far less spectacular, but be carbon-neutral? He shakes himself, trying to remember what his original train of thought had been. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious,” Vanessa says. Craig doesn’t know what he’s missed, but it’s something to do with the guy with the hair and it’s substantial enough to get her up from his lap, laughing on the edge of her seat. “He’s *so* funny,” she says. “We’re screwed,” it whines. Then, out of nowhere, inspiration strikes. The idea materialising so fast Craig gasps internally. “That’s it!” he thinks. “What? What is it?” it enquires. His subconscious is alive, fidgeting and clambering to gain some insight into what Craig is to do but gets nothing, he’s being driven by pure instinct. “You ok?” Vanessa asks, as Craig bolts upright. He turns to face her, still trying to find the right words. “Craig?” she enquires, concerned. “I’m fine. In fact, I’ve never been better,” he says, stepping forward and taking her hand. “Over the last year, I can truly say that I’ve never been happier, and it’s made me realise that I never want it to end,” and with that he gets down on one knee. “Go on, mate!” it yells. “So, will you marry me?” It’s only for milliseconds, but the shock on Vanessa’s face is real as she absorbs what’s happened. This momentous thing. Before, her face erupts into delight, and she flings her arms around him. “I will,” she squeals. They embrace and kiss, long and affectionately. Momentarily the world is blissfully quiet. “She’s smothering us,” it says.


There was tension in the air, the way it always is when summer bleeds into autumn and the two seasons combine for a few trembling days. There is something about those days - an undercurrent of trepidation and anticipation - that leaves both man and beast unbalanced. Night had fallen, and the forest was thick with darkness. The moon offered some of its pale light and left balsam fir and black spruce half-visible as terrible, looming shadows. The trees edged closer the further you ventured into the forest until even a grown man could find himself plagued by the disquieting thought that he was slowly being entombed. “You sure it’s out there?” Hendry said. Somewhere in the shadows, hidden bodies rustled the undergrowth and the eerie sound of a nightjars churring trill trembled in the air. “Joseph.” Joseph raised his head and met Hendry’s eyes across the campfire. “It’s out there,” he said. While Hendry kept his eyes on him, Joseph grabbed the stick by his side and poked the fire, rousing a small swarm of embers. Hendry muttered something inaudible and took a sip from his flask. He’d not seen the man for many years, but then a few days ago he’d looked up from the bar and seen him sitting there at the other end of it, holding a glass of amber liquid and staring straight at him. Seeing Joseph after all those years had unnerved him. When people left, they should stay gone. That’s what he’d always thought. There was something arrogant and disruptive about the act of returning to a place after a long absence. Time and community is to history and memory what the ocean is to pieces of sea glass; it polishes facts and smooths out specifics until they’re pleasing to the touch. Disparate memories, opinions and perspectives blend together until a collective understanding of the past becomes an integral part of each person’s character and shapes their understanding of the world and their place in it. But when people leave and then return, their shards of glass have been shaped by distant, foreign waves. They remember things differently, and such persons can be dangerous. Sometimes their memories retain a cutting edge. Hendry would have left the bar, had Joseph not downed his glass and crossed the floor before he had time to react. With barely a greeting and no reference to his sudden return, Joseph sat down, ordered Hendry a drink, and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse; a chance to take down the Spirit Moose. At the first mention of the creature, Joseph had his full attention. A monstrous moose was rumoured to be living deep inside the forest. It was said to be the colour of fresh goats’ milk and be twice the size of a black bear, yet sightings were rare, and their level of veracity was difficult to ascertain. Some people thought the Spirit Moose was a nothing but a myth. Others thought that it was not corporeal in nature, but a representation of the spirit of the forest itself. A third group of people, to which Hendry belonged, believed that the elusive moose was not only real but that its milky hide and heavy crown would make whoever caught it a very pretty penny. Joseph told Hendry that he’d been trapping hares in the forest when he encountered the moose. It had appeared without a sound and he’d recoiled when he looked up and found it gazing at him from a short distance. It was a chilling sight, bright white with milky antlers twice the size of a well-grown man and obsidian eyes as large as two fists. At first, Joseph thought it was spectral in nature and wondered what horrible meaning he was to take from the sight. But after observing him for a few trembling moments, the moose turned around and slowly walked deeper into the forest. When sticks broke under its enormous hooves, and branches moved as they brushed its back, Joseph realized that it was flesh, blood and bone. He quickly pursued the moose, who at first seemed to take little notice of him and kept moving at a leisurely pace. But after he’d followed the moose for nearly two hours, the moose suddenly picked up its pace and vanished. Joseph tried tracking it, but despite its size, it left little trace. He spent a few more hours aimlessly searching the woods and was ready to give up when he came upon a beautiful swimming hole. After washing his face in the cold water, he suddenly noticed the bite marks on the surrounding trees. His limbs trembled as he rushed to study them. On some of the trees, the incisions were clearly old, while others were still bleeding sap. Other trees bore the marks of the beast rubbing against them, and on one of them, he found something stuck to its rough bark. Without taking his eyes of Hendry, Joseph had reached into his pocket, pulled out the tuft of bright white hair and put it down on the sticky surface of the bar. “You supply the hunting gear, I lead the way, we share the money. We leave tomorrow at dawn. ” Hendry resented the way Joseph had assumed he would agree to the offer, but the promise of wealth proved stronger than his ire, and now he found himself deep within the woods with this unsettling man. They’d spent most of the day’s journey in tense silence. Hendry wasn’t much of a talker himself, but it was something about Joseph’s silence that seemed too deliberate. He’d offered no explanation of his sudden return, apart from tersely revealing that had been back in the area for about two months. He said nothing about what he’d been up to over these long-lost years and nothing about what he was planning next. “I’m off for a piss,” Hendry said and took a short swig from his flask before standing up. Joseph stood up too. “Hand me some of that?” Hendry reluctantly passed him the flask, then walked outside the small circle of light, and stared into the darkness as he relieved himself. When he turned back, Joseph was rummaging through one of the bags. He handed Hendry the flask and then kept troubling the contents of the bag until he found a chunk of dried meat. He sat down next to Hendry on the rough log next to the fire and pulled out his knife. Hendry found their sudden proximity somewhat oppressive and shifted slightly on the log. Joseph cut off a strip of meat, handed it to Hendry and cut another strip for himself. Hendry chewed the tough meat and washed it down with another drink off his flask. They were close. They would reach the spot long before noon and then it was just a matter of waiting. Then - A sudden prickling sensation interrupted his thought process and he looked down on his forearm. To his disgust, he discovered that a long, spindly trunk had penetrated his skin and was quivering slightly as it drew his blood. The body of the mosquito was slowly filling up and resembled a horribly swollen, blood-filled blister, ready to burst. Without warning, Joseph’s hand cut through the air and struck the engorged insect. Hendry made a face at the sight of the smeared blood and mangled body parts that clung to his arm and looked up at Joseph, looking both perplexed and aggravated. “I don’t like mosquitos” Joseph muttered. “Nobody fucking does,” Hendry said. He used his fingernail to scrape the remains of the mosquito off his arm. “Just keep your damn hands off me.” “I don’t trust them.” Hendry gently rolled the squashed body of the mosquito between his fingers, then flicked it into the fire. Perhaps he shouldn’t have resented the oddly strained silence. Not if this was the alternative. “You don’t trust them?” “No, I don’t. Who could trust a beast that does not bleed its own blood?” “Jesus...” “You don’t find that distinctly unnatural?” “I find you unnatural, blathering like a bubbly-jock. ” Joseph shook his head. “Consider that we find this moose; it’s as large as a bear and as white as bone and as you take your shot, you can taste the gold and silver it will bring. But then, the taste turns to copper. As the bullet rips through skin and flesh, and blood gushes from the wounded beast, you feel yourself growing faint and cold. Then, you grow colder still when you realize that the blood spilling on the ground is none but your own.” “How the fuck is that anything like a damn mosquito?” Hendry snapped. Something about the toneless yet determined way Joseph spoke unnerved and angered him. “You can’t deny it’s an unsettling thought.” “It’s damned nonsense.” Hendry took a sharp swig from his flask and stared into the dark woods. “They do call it a Spirit Moose,” Joseph said. “Who’s to say what enchantments it holds? I’ve heard it can’t be killed. Some say a hunter killed its mate, and now it's searching the forest for its lost love. They say it’ll be searching for eternity.” “You’d do best to keep your mouth shut.” Hendry spat. “I’ve heard of strange things happening in these woods. Hunters being lured to their deaths by strange figures. Womenfolk disappearing into the forest on the backs of bears. ” “You’ve lost your damn mind.” “I’ve seen stranger things happen.” Joseph stared at the fire with a strange look that sent an unwelcome chill down Hendry’s spine. “I’ve travelled across this country and beyond for ten long years. I’ve seen many wonderful and terrible things. I’ve seen beautiful women with black tongues that roll out from their mouths hang to their feet. I’ve seen a bear with the face of a hideous hag that wept pure gold. I’ve seen the spectre of a young bride eat the heart of her widower.” He cut himself another strip of meat. “I’ve learned that some things are not meant to be understood.” “I hope you’ve gathered more than stories on your journey,” Hendry said dismissively and suppressed a shiver. “Don’t worry, “ Joseph said and stared into the dark woods. “I’ve got everything I need right here in this forest. “Aye,” Hendry said, following his gaze. “That moose will bring us a fine prize.” “I always meant to come back home,” Joseph said. “ I thought that if I left, I could find better work and make some real money. When I’d made something of myself, I’d come back and marry your sister. Of course, after scarcely a year I got the news that someone else was bestowed that honour.” He was quiet for a moment. “I was sorry to hear what happened to her.” Hendry replied with a short grunt. “God rest her soul, “ he added. “I’m sorry for your loss.” “Aye, well. It was a long time ago now.” “I suppose so,” Joseph said. “ How’s her husband faring these days?” Hendry gave him a sharp glance, but Joseph didn’t seem to notice. He just kept staring at the flames. “Not so well. He’s dead, “ Hendry said. “Oh,” Joseph said. “Well, I suppose I should have expected as much. Time is relentless. We’ll all go that way one day.” “God willing, we won’t,” Hendry muttered. “The man was murdered.” He gave Joseph a long look. “You being back here some two months, I’m surprised you hadn’t heard.” Joseph was silent for a moment before speaking. “I heard something of it. I suppose I just didn’t realize it was the same man. I never knew her husband’s name.” He sighed. “What a terrible way to go.” Hendry didn’t answer, he just took another swig of his flask. “I hear he was quite fond of gambling. You can make a lot of enemies that way.” “I wouldn’t know,” Hendry replied. “No? Not a gambling man yourself? Anymore, that is. When you were younger, I remember you didn’t seem to mind a game or two.” “Just what are you implying?” Hendry said. He gave Joseph a hard look. “Nothing,” Joseph said. “I meant no offence.” Hendry took another sip of his flask, but the alcohol didn’t satisfy him the way it usually did. As he studied Joseph through the corner of his eye, he thought about the hunting knife he kept in his belt. “Perhaps it was the work of a spirit,” Joseph said. “Aye, perhaps the Spirit Moose cracked his skull open,” Hendry said in a mocking tone. “Perhaps,” Joseph said without humour. “Or perhaps Audrey ate his heart.” Hendry didn’t show any emotion but slowly moved his right hand to the hilt of his knife. “Once I’d heard about Audrey’s accident, I had no reason to return home. I spent years travelling from town to town, sometimes working, often begging. I’d lost all purpose in life. All because of a spooked horse.” Joseph looked up at the sky.“ As you know, I learned many things on my aimless journey. But nothing compares to what I learned just a few months ago. In a bar, far away from this cursed place, I saw something I’d never expected to see; an old acquaintance. Arthur Morris, perhaps you remember him? He said he left town around the time of Audrey’s accident to marry a distant cousin in the south. Well, as we got to talking, he revealed something quite eye-opening. You see, I’d been told my Audrey was kicked to death in the stables by an unbroken horse, but Arthur seemed to remember it differently. According to him, Audrey’s husband was prone to drinking and slapping his wives around. Apparently, he’d had two before Audrey, but they'd both met an early grave. One fell down the stairs, the other down an old well. Terribly bad luck, don’t you think? So, after bidding Arthur farewell, I naturally began my return home.” Hendry tried to grip his knife, but his fingers were numb and slapped against the hilt like stuffed sausages. Joseph sighed. “Once the villain was dead, I thought I was finished. But after hanging around the area, I discovered more about that time. I learned that around the time of Audrey’s marriage, you owed the old man a fair bit of money. I hear he and his men were starting to give you some trouble. As I said, gambling can make you a lot of enemies... ” He pointed to the woods. “Oh, look. There it is. The Spirit Moose.” Hendry’s throat was closing up and he wheezed with each strained breath. He followed Joseph's finger, and there it was, looking at him through the trees. It was as white as bone and its massive antlers were big enough to freeze Hendry to the core. “But it all worked it somehow, didn’t it?” He paused. “Look who’s riding it. Isn’t that Audrey?” Hendry’s head felt like it was on fire. His arms hung limply at his sides and his lungs were slowly turning to stone. But there was nothing wrong with his eyes, and he saw that riding on the back of the moose was Audrey, all dressed in white. “It was either your blood on the floor or hers on the wedding sheets, and you made your choice. You sold her like cattle. Knowing what had happened to the other wives. Knowing she would go the same way. Hendry couldn’t have answered him if he wanted to. He stared at moose and its terrible rider, and suddenly other shapes started to appear behind them. Three beautiful women appeared before his eyes and gave him a big smile. As they parted their lips, their long black tongues fell to the forest floor. “Look how they bleed,” Joseph said, and Hendry saw wounds opening up all over the body of the moose. Blood poured out and soaked the skirts of Audrey’s dress. She began to weep thick, crimson tears that slid down her face and mingled with the blood of the moose. Joseph reached for Hendry’s flask, which had fallen to the ground. He held it up and studied it. “I met a woman once who said she could give me everything and anything I desired. I told her the only thing I wanted was irrevocably lost to me, but she insisted. She sat me down in a hut and gave me a cup of tea.” Joseph got up from the log and turned to face Hendry who was wheezing for breath and still staring into the woods. “There’s a root that grows deep in the Amazon. It’s a powerful hallucinogenic. Makes you extremely susceptible to suggestion. The woman used to dry it out and grind it down. She put it my tea and told me what to see. And I saw it. I saw her.” He threw the flask down in front of Hendry’s feet. “I spent every penny I had, visiting her. For years, I only worked so I could afford to go back to that hut. It’s the closest thing to magic I’ve ever experienced.” He bent down and picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Of course, you have to be incredibly careful. In large doses, it’s quite toxic.” He looked at Hendry with a concerned expression. “Oh my... does that not hurt?” Hendry finally tore his eyes from the forest and met Joseph’s gaze. His eyes were glazed over with pain and terror. “All your flesh is falling off your bones,” Joseph said. With that, he turned around and disappeared between the trees.


# [SF] BELLA Turning the bracelet over and over in her hands, Bella, sitting on the corner of the bed, took two large deep breaths. She was risking a lot just holding the smart bracelet. She took another deep breath and opened her mouth to issue the command. Before any sound came out, she heard a noise and instinctively she threw the bracelet to the back of the drawer and covered it with her underwear. It was silent now. Had she heard the scraping of shoes on the floor or was it a door being opened? It didn’t matter now. The sound had vanished and when she turned around there was no one there. Bella stood, straightened her clothes, then went to join the others in the leisure room. Liam came up to embrace her, almost as soon as she had entered the room, and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. She knew it was just for show. The affection didn’t seem to come so quickly once they were in their room, alone. The two of them joined the others on the battered old fabric sofa. It must be a hundred years old, Bella thought, as she squirmed and moved about, trying to get comfy. The others sat back, looking relaxed and at ease. Bella couldn’t stop thinking about what kind of germs could be on the sofa. It had been almost one year since Bella and Liam had arrived at the organisation’s headquarters and she was feeling increasingly claustrophobic. Although they had joined their local branch of the organisation separately, it was together that they had moved all these miles to settle at the headquarters. Bella had joined the organisation just to spite her mother who she seemed to be at constant logger heads with over one thing or another. Usually over what she was wearing or who she was choosing to befriend. Bella, who had always had a rebellious streak thought that attending one of the organisation’s meetings would anger her mother. She was correct and the angrier her mother became, the more meetings Bella attended. Liam, on the other hand, attended the meetings for the cause. He was from a poorer area of town to Bella and the growing divide between rich and poor angered him. He was very angry at the government and Bella often heard him declaring statements such as, “Destroy the director,” and “Anarchy rules.” The Director was the leader of the country and Bella had thought he was quite a nice man. She must have been bad at reading people because everyone here hated him. She had thought Liam was passionate about the cause and she knew her mother would despise him. So, when Liam had invited her to a protest Bella didn’t think twice about joining. The thrill of attending something she could get in trouble for excited her and she enjoyed the fact that she was one of the only members who came from the richer side of town. Everyone wanted to talk to her and ask her questions about all sorts of mundane everyday things. She adored the attention. Liam, it became apparent, wanted her attention the most, and she was quite happy to let him have it. Thinking back, Bella wasn’t sure she really knew what the organisation stood for in those days. She attended the meetings purely to annoy her mother and relieve the boredom of her normal life. In the early days, Bella merely followed Liam’s lead by joining him on protests or accompanying him to meetings. The change was gradual. At first Bella had turned up to the meetings, hung around for a bit, then once she was bored returned home. The rules were so insignificant in the beginning that she barely noticed them. Rose, one of the ladies that had been a member of the group for a very long time happened to mention to Bella that the group preferred it if you didn’t use social media too much. Bella didn’t take much notice. Then Liam had discussed with her the ins and outs of owning an android. He mainly mentioned the negative points. It resulted in Bella and her mother having an explosive argument when Bella wanted to disconnect the household’s robot. By the time Bella and Liam had become a couple, Bella had stopped using any social media and was not in contact with anyone other than the organisation’s members. She had even quit her studies as Liam said the government were using the online teaching platforms as a way to brainwash students. Bella didn’t think she could be easily influenced by the government, but Liam was adamant, and she wasn’t that interested in studying to go against him. Today, as Bella sat on the sofa in the leisure room, the noise from the chatter and from the scraping of chairs as people sat down or rose to leave, was making her head throb. Finding it increasingly hard to listen to anyone, Bella make an excuse to leave and went in search of somewhere quieter. Finally stumbling across a small room at the end of a corridor, it seemed the perfect place to escape. There was a large armchair in the corner and all the walls were covered head to toe in jammed packed bookshelves. Bella quietly closed the door behind her, hoping no one had noticed her enter the room. She wanted to be alone. To have complete peace and quiet. Sitting down, she risked the germs on the chair. It was comfy, really comfy. She felt like she might melt right into it. Bella took off her sweater so she could fold it into a makeshift pillow and rested her head against it. She felt tired. The headquarters was not a place anyone could easily find sleep. Even on a night-time when Bella and Liam were alone in their room, Bella could hear footsteps and muffled voices as people passed along the corridors at all hours. Liam, of course, seemed to have no problem sleeping and could go from wide awake to practically unconscious in what seemed like an instant. As she rested her mind drifted back to the Smart Bracelet. If she could find a way to sneak out of the headquarters building without being noticed then maybe out in the surrounding grounds, the bracelet would find a neighbouring internet connection. That’s if there was any connection close enough as the headquarters was situated so remotely, she could walk for a whole day and not find another building. Bella desperately wanted to contact her mother. She didn’t care if her mother shouted or screamed at her. A tear rolled down her cheek and Bella wiped the wet that had landed on the back of her hand. She wondered if her mother would charge across the country to bring her back home. Or perhaps she had demolished those bridges and her mother would simply have nothing more to do with her. Hearing thundering footsteps, Bella sat up, alert on the edge of the chair. The door to the small room swung open and there stood Liam, red faced with anger, two halves of a broken bracelet in his hand.


I remember how at times when I looked at her she always seems so sad and so lonely. She’s too beautiful in my eyes to ever weep and cry. She was new to the celestial beings, they called her Earth. When she was introduced all I could do was just stare. She was so beautiful and stunning she was the person I fell in love with before I even knew it. The being didn’t appreciate her they hated her for the way she was made. She was superior above them they felt threatened by her, they decided to push her away and seclude and isolate her. They were harsh and scared but unlike them, I couldn’t leave Earth alone. When there wasn’t a meeting I would sneak off to see her, though she didn’t know I existed, I would often leave her gifts they were small. I would give her flowers, or maybe an animal so she wouldn’t be so lonely. Shortly after, the beings took noticed of these rather odd and lively gifts, they grew angry and wanted to spite me, these gifts I gave Earth all had an “expiration date” on them to say the least. My anger boiled inside. I went to confront them about this. They kept saying they created me and if I disobeyed they could destroy me. Even after the warning I couldn’t stay away from her, but more I visited her I realized she grew more depressed, her tears started to flood over creating waterfalls. That’s when I knew I had to make her happy again. I pondered how to for a few days when I realized I had to create a creature that lasted longer then a year. I knew this would be the limit for the beings but I didn’t care about how I would end up as long as she was happy and her tears would stop. When I Gained up my courage I let out a sigh and went to the council and asked for permission. The first answer was no. Who would have guess? But I wasn’t ready to give up. By the time I convinced them I had to make a deal with them. The deal hurt but if it made her happy then I didn’t care. “I’ll let you give her this creature, you should not be seen by her, you will be planted on a star above her to keep you away. The Final part is when the humans can sustain life for themselves you will start to disappear from this existence. For this is your deal Life. ” Universe spoke and demanded. “Yes Universe. I accept this deal. “ I replied the shocked I felt from hearing I’ll be erased spread through me it gave me seconds thoughts but It was already too late As I concluded the deal I gave life to earth in the form of a human. I was placed on the star and watched Earth smile more and more as some cared and some didn’t. Through the millennia’s I watched as the humans grow and I felt my body get weaker, by the time I fade I would be remembered, these creatures called deer took my form and stayed close to earth.


**It’s a small place in a suburban area of my hometown in East Germany. It’s peaceful with mostly senior citizens, polite yet quietly judging, well connected in the neighborhood; therefore, word travels fast, and people get cautious like a cat rotating its ears in unknown territory. I was already on my way back from the supermarket when I heard: “General personal control, ID, please.” coming from an officer standing inside the sliding doors of the police wagon, which had just rushed down the street screeching its tires. His flashlight still in my face, as bright as the sun on a hangover morning. I reached into my coat pocket, handed him the piece of plastic that told me I existed--Johannes Baris, 24 years old with grey-blueish eyes about 175 centimeters tall, born in the state republic of Germany.** **“Here you go .”** **“Have you ever been in trouble with the law ?”** **“No, I haven’t; mind telling me what this is about? “** **“Just a general personal control. “** **At this point, I already guessed that ́s connected to recent burglaries in the neighborhood. Someone stole expensive gardening tools from a wooden shack nearby, and of course, they generally control the only mid-twenty-year-old in an eight-kilometer radius.** **“What’s in the backpack? Mind opening it for us? “** **“Groceries, bike tubes, and tools to fix it; I usually ride my bike, but the store is close by, so I just happened to walk there.”** **“Where do you come from? Where are you headed? “** **“ALDI, I ́m heading home .”** **“No, where were you before ?” he asked with a particular annoyance in his voice.** **His colleague intervened, “You live around here ?”** **“Yes, just over there. “ I pointed my finger towards the pre-war build with a facade that looked like an overripe cantaloupe.** **“I see; mind if I check your wallet; do you have any forbidden substances, weapons, or objects that slice or pierce? “** **“No, I don’t, just a bunch of change and old receipts .”** **“I can feel that; why do you carry so many coins?”** **“They just pile up. I ́ll get rid of it soon .”** **After their squad had a good laugh and made gestures about lifting my wallet like a dumbbell, they handed me back my ID, which they previously ran through a system to see if I had a felony or anything like that, suppose.** **My pulse was calm, and my blood pressure below average.** **I opened the door with my keys; I haven’t been living here for too long, so I always mix up which key is for the entrance to the hallway and the apartment.** **Phrases always help me, so I made one up:” Round for the ground, square goes up there .”** **I entered with the square, traded my shoes for slippers then put the product in the fridge. Dairy to the lowest compartment paired with vegetables and fruit, meat, and other processed foods in the middle row, beverages on top, it just looks right that way. I read in a magazine that the fridge cools different based on its compartments, that milk should be in the middle or top row together with ready to eat food or pre-cooked meat; raw meat, fish, and poultry to the lowest. This article made sense to me since they also mentioned veggies going in the veggie drawer, but bad habits die hard like a can full comfort, which I depend on more than I ́d like. I go out on the balcony and reach for my pack of smokes, which I always place in my coat’s left chest pocket. The front shows a golden pyramid with a faded Marlboro logo on it, which seems relatively shallow below the graphic picture of a tumored tongue saying “smoking kills, “ a European standard to prevent people from smoking, yet I see the gas station clerk twice a week. It ́s a treat for me, having a smoke during a work break, on my way to catch the last train, after I get home around 1 a.m. paired with a small glass of Suntory whisky, another habit I picked up after moving places.** **I wouldn’t call it a home but a venue where I sleep, eat, spend my free time make the best out of what’s left. The theatrical play of my private life is moving. Drama, silent amusement, melancholia are the stylistic means that set the tone for whoever lives here. I stare into the sky while I blow smoke into the night, trying to remember the star constellations we learned in school. It ́s clear, seven-degree Celcius below zero, crisp winter air replaces the nicotine while Duke Ellington plays “The Star Crossed Lovers.” A sound that calms my soul and reminds me of a naivety that I loved but lost, which used to set my world on fire but doesn’t light me up anymore, a real home, a reason that let me see things through to the end. What hurts me most is not the loss of her but the ability to love without questions, believe without asking twice, and be manic about shared time. It ́s a beautiful feeling to love even more than being loved, communicating problems, being an outlet, creating experiences. I enjoyed clinginess more than independence, her happiness more than my own, serving instead of being served. Wanting to be needed made me thrive, led me out of my comfort zone successfully, created the blueprint for my happy ever life.** **It was a sleeping mask, and I woke up. I found myself by myself once again, which is the only constant in life, I know. Every morning when the sun rises, a new day begins, a new white canvas and billions of possibilities to create a new piece of art. Yet the same picture, resembling a Pierre Soulages. Not as refined, but brushes, color, perspective, and emotions are the same to an untrained mind. Sometimes I feel bitter like the green tee’s first infusion; I always pour away.** **I settle in my queen size bed for the night and try to read a few pages of Haruki Murakami ́s “South of the Border, West of the Sun. “ while being wrapped up in my sage green covers. Marry lays in between my legs as she always did, curled together slightly tilted to the side. Her small paws are facing towards her well-fed stomach, her eyes are squinted, and her tail is stuck between her legs. Every time I move a bit for more comfort, she lets out a small meow as if to signalize that I should just go to bed.** **Among all the things I curse at for being present in my life, sleep and cats are what I ́m thankful for having.** **After a night full of tossing and turning like usual, I wake up around 7:30 a.m. just in time to witness the sunrise this Saturday morning. The colors of the horizon play beautifully peaceful not even a bird can be heard over the sound of silence. Different facets of red, pink, orange, and yellow remind me of those display fruit baskets at malls. I check for emails or any other communication outside those four walls that make my bedroom, but there is nothing, just a blank sound that turned into white noise and an earthy taste in my mouth.** **Still somewhat dazed and tired from my night that was supposed to be restful, I walk towards my work desk to sip water from the half-empty bottle situated next to my computer tower. As I swallow, the taste gets worse and overwhelming. I can barely breathe. Am I having a stroke? “Should I call an ambulance ?” is what I thought, but all I could do was wave my hands as my mouth seemed to be sealed. I walked towards the kitchen to get on my balcony to wave for help, but it was already too late; the taste of moss and decaying acorns overcame me, and I released what wasn’t supposed to be in my system and threw up right over the ground as I held my stomach. My eyes were wide open as I ́d just seen a ghost or had a near-death experience, which it really might have been.** **The floor was covered in soil and grass, not a single sign of half-digested food remnants. The pressure in my stomach had left, but the exhaustion was beyond what I would usually even feel after a long day of work.** **The last thing I remember are my feet slipping away; I must have passed out and fallen to the ground. Why else would I lay there in the middle of my spacious kitchen, surrounded by potting compost?** **I got up and looked around to spot the time, but I haven’t come around to hang up any type of clock in my kitchen; I rely too much on my phone. I hear a rustling sound and playful meowing coming from my bedroom. Marry must be playing with the screw cap that I had let loose while trying to get help. Well, and then there is just this pile; I have no idea how it even got into my system. I walk towards her with heavy steps holding onto the walls of the hallway. I can hear her playing under my bed. As I go down on my knees to take a peek, I realized that the cap, which I assumed she would dribble in joy, was lying right next to me; So I checked, and it wasn’t but a chestnut. In January, just two weeks after New Year’s eve, I moved in around November. Was it from back then? I can’t remember bringing any in, not even as a toy for her. I got up again just for a metallic shine to get my attention like I was some sort of raven or magpie. To the left of my vinyl player right next to the window, situated on an IKEA shelf surrounded by cacti, which I had carefully replanted a few days ago, laid a garden spade. I hadn’t put it there, and I honestly don’t even own one. I just use my hand wearing gloves when replanting.** **The tool looked relatively new, with no scratches, dents, or roughed-up edges, just covered with a thin layer of dirt that would be easy to brush off.


I want to speak but I’m no longer sure there’s anything to say. Every thought in my head, every movement of my lips, every word that comes out has all been said. I am tired. I am so fucking tired. All I want is to rest my fucking eyes but there is stilling something I need to say and I can’t fucking figure out what the fuck it is. I just want to rest. There must be something left unsaid or maybe I have not yet heard someone else say it and so I think that person needs to be me. But all that enters my mind are thoughts stitched together from a million other ideas others have said and I can’t hide the stitching. I want to rest. I am so very tired. But it still has to be said. Maybe there is nothing. Maybe I have been convinced that I have something to say. That in me there is a voice that is not the echo of those who stood before me. Still I must speak. If I don’t then I can not rest. I can not sleep. I wonder if they see it in my eyes. Do they see the bags and the lines? Do they see the ache of my bones? Do they see the belt married to my neck or the bottle in my hand when my face falls below the surface. I am angry. I am so fucking angry because I jsut want to sleep but they won’t let me do that simple fucking thing because I still have something to say. But God I don’t fucking know what that is. I know that one day I will die because I killed myself. It will not me today and it probably will not be tomorrow. But I have begun to fear that I will never rest and God I am so tired. I have heard of respite in the arms of another but I have felt none. I have lied to those that have held me but I can not speak the truth to them. I want them to sleep. To not feel tired. To feel as I do. But I fear I bring this disease on them. I have been told to give up on finding something to say so that I might find rest in this flesh but I can only pretend to have done so. My soul tugs at me to open my mouth and to speak. It sits there and it claws and it tears away at my sanity until I blurt out nonsense to feel relief. Like a man under the blade I lie and blabber and falsify so that I might have some rest. I let it all free and I breathe. For a moment. But they look at me and tell me I still have to say something. I want to be free. I want to break the fetters of my predecessors in thought and culture and family have placed on me because I can’t stand to keep fucking lying. Where are the words? I fear there are none. I fear that I must find what is to be said deeper inside of myself where there is no language but when there is no language what is to be said. Damn the bastards who have set the precedents of culture and thought and language and desire and duty upon me. All I have ever wanted was to rest but my whore of a mother decided there was to be none. Not for me. She was so damn kind. She would not let harm befall her child and yet she left us defenseless to be preyed upon by that damn bastard. But all he did was what every man does. That stupidity reeks and I will never be released on its stench. And I am angry. I am tired. The bastard son, I stand as a scarecrow. Zeno thinks well of the strawman. But the wind tears away at the cloth and the rain sets stains below my eyes and time rots the wood that holds me up. My hands and feet have not been nailed but lashed by the words of those before me. I am tired. I want to rest. But still something must be said. My throat is sore. There is no respite for me.


(this story was inspired by the metro series) I was scared It was pathetic honestly, I wasn’t even the one about to get shot in the head in fact I was going to shoot him in the head, so why was I so afraid of something that wasn’t even going to happen to me?, I was scared of the fact that this will be the first human life I’ll take. I lay in bed that morning dreading what was to come, dreading the knock on the door to tell me to get up and shoot a man, all because we found out he was a traitor, it was even worse because he was my friend I didn’t want to do this god please, I prayed to whatever god still existed until I heard a knock then a voice telling me to get up, it was time. I followed him in the dimly lit tunnels that we called home, children running and playing while their parents watched, or friends getting together for a meal, and people begging for just a coin to put something in their belly, but I wasn’t focused on that instead I focused ahead on the taller man leading me to that place, we finally arrived he turns the crank and the metal door opens with a creak and inside I see our leader standing, a revolver resting in his hand, I look ahead and almost puke at the sight of my bloodied and beaten friend tied in a chair, his ragged and heavy breathing made me worry that he could die any second, but he wasn’t dead yet. The general nodded at the taller man silently telling him to leave us be, he nods back and closes the door, the only sounds left in the room are the breathing of my friend in the chair and the light above flickering every once in a while. The general looks me dead in the eye and hands me the revolver, “do it” he tells me “kill this traitor to show your loyalty to our group”. I take it and slowly walk up to him, he looks up at me and smiles, I see no hate in his gaze I sense nothing at all, I only see regret and sadness, I put the revolver against his forehead and cock it, “do it” he says in a whisper, my hand shakes “please” he begs tears streaming down his bloodied cheeks, “I’m okay if it’s you” his voice is breaking now, and he looks straight at me, I choke back a sob and close my eyes as I finally steady my hand and pull the trigger. I wish that was the last, but he was the first of many more I’ve killed so many I’ve lost count, killing changes a man eventually you become used to it but is that a good thing? To be so comfortable taking another person’s life, they could have had a life, friends, family maybe even children and you come along and take it from them. I took only one more life after that, my own.


Hello all. I've been working on a bunch of short stories for years now, writing and re-writing them for nearly ten years. The current state of the world has relieved me of any excuse to avoid my story ideas. Since most of the ideas are, by now, around ten years old, I updated many of them. The one I'm posting here is one of the originals and used to be much longer and less mature. The titular Bone King in the story is not referenced as such, the name of the story is a call back to the broader fictional universe in which it takes place. Any constructive criticism is welcome, keep in mind English is my second language. That being said, I hope you enjoy the story.  "You call that digging?" Taunted Ezra. He had just returned from fetching a bottle of water and some snacks. The sun rode high in the sky and, though the boys and their dig site were shaded by the thick prosopis trees that grew like weeds in the dry river bed, the heat pressed down on them mercilessly. "Ag! You took your sweet time, didn't you?" Said Dirk, leaning now on his shovel. Sand clung to almost every exposed bit of his skin. "Maybe you should show me how it's done then." With this Dirk threw the shovel at Ezra's feet and struggled out of the sand pit. "I guess I'll have to." Said Ezra and jumped into the pit with shovel in hand. Dirk sat himself down on a nearby stone and grabbed a handful of dried beef from the sack that Ezra brought as he watched the older boy dig shovel after shovel of sand from the pit. They had come upon this spot just a week before while hunting birds with their slings. Dirk had tripped over what he thought was a stone and, upon further inspection, found it to be the tip of a carved stone. The boys concluded, after trying to dig it out with their hands, that it must be a rather large boulder and agreed that they would come back with better gear the next weekend. Now they have been digging for most of the day and the tiny exposed stone has turned into a massive, carved rock that was part of a larger rock formation buried in the sand. In time the boys were able to see a dark, hollow space behind the carved stone and concluded that it must serve as a seal to some cache or cave. “Dirk!” Called Ezra some time later. Dirk had gone to relieve himself behind a shrub. “Come see, Dirk!” Called Ezra when the other boy did not respond immediately. Dirk came running, his fly only half way closed. “Woah.” Dirk slid down into the pit and came to stand next to Ezra. The older boy had managed to expose the stone and, using the shovel, levered it to one side. Before them stretched an abyss deeper than they had expected. The sunlight that penetrated the thicket above them faded ineffectively into the darkness. “Well?” Said Ezra, placing his hands expectantly on his hips. “Well what?” Dirk tore his eyes from the void to look quizzically at the older boy. “Aren’t you going in then?” asked Ezra as if Dirk plunging blindly into the dark was a given thing. “Don’t be stupid, Ezra.” Said Dirk with a nervous laugh. “What, are you scared?” mocked Ezra. “Scared of the dark?” “Well,” answered Dirk, “why don’t you go if you’re so brave?” “I guess I’ll have to.” Said Ezra. With this he reached into his back pocket and retrieved a small flashlight that Dirk had not noticed before. Ezra clicked the flashlight on and pointed it into the darkness. The light fell upon more carved stone and showed a passage high enough for a person to walk upright in. A bend not far into the passage obscured it’s true depth. “Shouldn’t we find a grown-up first?” Asked Dirk apprehensively. “And have them send us home to ‘play cars’ or something so that they can have all the fun? No way!” With this Ezra stepped cautiously into the cave, sweeping the torch along the stone walls to reveal strange and ancient carvings. Dirk watched his friend go slowly deeper into the cave, torn between his apprehension to enter the unknown, claustrophobic space and his own curiosity. “Are you sure about this?” Asked Dirk. The passage seemed to absorb his voice as it does the light. Ezra, who was by now almost at the bend in the passage, stopped and turned to his friend. “Don’t be such a coward, Dirk.” Said he. “*Coward dirk*” came the echo from deeper in the darkness. Ezra chuckled. “See, even the cave knows.” “*Knows”* said the echo. “Come on already.” Said Ezra and began to disappear around the bend as the passage echoed “*come*”. “Ezra!” Called Dirk, panic creeping into his voice. “Scaredy Dirk, scaredy Dirk!” Came to mocking voice of Ezra. “*Scaredy Dirk*” came the echo from further in. The light from the torch moved for a moment longer as Ezra moved out of sight and then retreated. Dirk paused for a moment longer at the entrance trying to muster his courage. Finally he willed himself to move into the passage. “Ezra!” he called, feeling his way along the walls. Dirk could see the faint glow of light still around the bend, but there was no answer. By the time Dirk reached the bend where last he saw the glow of the torch, there was no sign of Ezra. Instead he saw only the glow somewhat further away. “Ezra! Wait up” Called Dirk just as the glow disappeared around another bend. “*Scaredy Dirk”*, came the answer faintly. Once more Dirk forced himself forward, feeling with his hands as he went. He could feel the strange figures carved into the stone and the motion of his hands moving over them in sequence almost made it seem like they moved under his touch. “Ezra!” Called Dirk again, though now he was choking with panic. There was the faint glow seeming just out of reach up ahead and, from behind and all other directions, the darkness pushed in on him as black, cold water. “*Scaredy*” came the answer again, a little closer now. Dirk pushed onward toward the glow, not so much consciously as much as being propelled by the darkness swallowing the passage behind him. Finally he thought that he was gaining on the light. “*Dirk”* came Ezra’s voice again. “I’m almost there, Ezra, just wait up!” called Dirk. The relief in his voice was practically tangible. Dirk rounded another coil in the snaking passage and stepped into the light of Ezra’s torch. In front of him a pile of rubble partially blocked the passage, though it left a large enough space for a person to crawl comfortably over. Ezra’s head peered out from the other side of the rubble and his hand hung, relaxed, over the pile. Dirk saw Ezra’s face and knew that the older boy was mocking him. His eyes were comically wide and he grinned from ear to ear. His head bobbed from side to side as Dirk approached him and his arm, still holding the flashlight, swung limply, making the shadows dance ominously around. “Yeah, I know.” Said Dirk. “You could have waited, you know!” “*Scaredy Dirk*” taunted Ezra, his head bobbing side to side. “Ag, piss off!” Yelled Dirk, shaking from the adrenaline. “*Pissssssssssssss*” came the answer, though it was now less like that of Ezra. With this the older boy seemed to begin to struggle over the pile of rubble and, when he had reached the top, Dirk saw that he was backwards and his head was turned at a strange angle to stare wide-eyed at him. Then the body of Ezra slid limply down the side of the pile, the flashlight came loose from his grip and came to rest at such an angle to cast its light back toward the rubble pile. As Ezra’s body came to rest at Dirk’s feet, his eyes staring wide, wild and empty up at the frozen boy, Dirk managed to tear his eyes from Ezra’s face and saw the bloody mess of his torso. His belly was torn open and his bowels snaked out of him and seemed to slither in a bloody trail back over the rubble from where he came. “*Pisssssssssss*” came the voice again from beyond the rubble and Dirk looked up. There came crawling over the pile another figure, pale white, nearly transparent, in the light of the flashlight. From where he stood Dirk could see blue veins snake across the thing's horrible flesh. The eyeless, naked thing could have resembled a human only if it were reconstructed from incomplete remains by a being that has never seen one before. A dark, shiny liquid stained its mouth and clawed hands. As it crested the rubble pile it paused and, though there was only more nearly translucent flesh where its eyes should have been, it turned to Dirk as if it saw him. “*Pissssssssssss*” Hissed the thing in a twisted version of Ezra’s voice and, as it started to crawl down the pile toward him, its eyeless visage still fixed upon him, Dirk did.


*Disclaimer - this story contains sexual themes and graphic descriptions of violence. Churches are strange places. The Church of St. Augustine’s in the small village of Ramswick-on-Tye was one of the few churches that hung onto its Norman origins. It had beautiful ornate stained glass windows, hand carved pews and a golden lectern that would make the pope green with envy. One Saturday morning, after the completion of Mass, Father Luke was praying quietly at the altar when he heard the heavy wooden doors swing open. He ended his prayer quickly and stood. Stood in the entrance was a young man that Father Luke guessed was close to twenty one. “Good morning my son” Father Luke spoke warmly “How can I help you?” “I need to talk to you Father” the young man replied. He was on edge. “I mean...I need to confess”. “Then let us not waste any time” Father Luke indicated towards the confessional. It was an ornately carved confessional with the faces of cherubim in the doors. “Bless me father, I have sinned. It has been sixteen months since my last confession” the young man replied after entering the confessional. “Tell me all that currently separates you from God’s glory and love” Father Luke replied “Let’s start with your name first”. “My name is Jonah Wallis” he responded “I’ve not long turned 21 and I have done something terrible father”. “Calm yourself Jonah” the father comforted “Just start from the beginning. What sin are you confessing?” “Sins” Jonah clarified “The first is the sin of adultery and the other is the sin of murder”. There was a silence. Father Luke had heard many confessions in his years, but never one of murder. “Go on, my son” Father Luke finally spoke. “Well, it started when I met this woman. She was the wife of my brother’s teacher, Mr Elgin” Jonah began “I was stunned by her beauty and began to think about her often”. “There is no harm in thinking about people, or even being stunned by the beauty. Providing you didn’t...” “My thoughts affected everything I did father” Jonah interjected “I imagined how good she would look...” “I get the image” Father Luke interjected “So you had desires for Mrs Elgin?” “So I work at the local post office behind the counter, and one morning she walks in, looking like a Hollywood glamour girl. She puts her letters on the counter and asks for them to be posted”. Father Luke tries to picture Mrs Elgin. The mental image he has corresponds with the one that so infatuated Jonah. “Go on my son”. “So, I start talking to her, about anything. She finds my jokes funny and even invites me to join her on my lunch break”. “She tempted you?” Father Luke was surprised. “She took her lunch at the same time I do. She works for old Mr McGuinness at the bank” Jonah replied “So, we go down to the river and eat our lunch. As we talk, she kisses me. I then kiss her back”. “Oh my dear boy!” Father Luke exclaimed “How far did you go?” “To the point where I ended up meeting her after work and using my spare change to book us a room in a hotel to meet”. Father Luke was blushing. All his years in the clergy had made him come into contact with all the forms of the physical sin, but Jonah’s were proving a struggle. “Go on my son” he replied. “One day Renee, I mean, Mrs Elgin arrives late” Jonah started to sound worried “She said that Mr Elgin was suspecting that there was something going on. He’d found the broach I’d bought for her”. “Oh dear” Father Luke remarked. “She said that we needed to be careful. Mr Elgin had a violent temper and would likely attack me on sight if he knew I was sleeping with her” Jonah sighed “So after we had made love, Mrs Elgin suggested that we meet every two weeks until her husband’s suspicions had died down. I told her that I couldn’t last without her”. Father Luke soon became aware of footsteps in the main church. The clacking of high heels suggested it was a woman. “I may have another confession to take shortly my son” Father Luke spoke softly “But I’ll wait until you’ve finished”. “So she said that I should come to their house that evening when her husband went out to play cards with his friends. I snuck into the house and we made love in every room. It was magical. But...” “He returned early?” Father Luke guessed. “Yes. I was terrified” Jonah stated, conscious of his breathless state “So I hid in the wardrobe. She dressed quickly and sprayed her perfume to disguise my cologne. He entered the house and I heard a scuffle. I snuck out and watched him raise his hands to her. I acted out of impulse. There were a pair of scissors on the dressing table. I rushed up behind him and without thinking, plunged them into his back. He toppled over the banister and landed in the hallway. I wish to God there was a way I could wind the clock back". He began to weep. "I wish that I'd never done this!" Father Luke was speechless. Here was a young man he’d known as the village’s faithful post office worker, reduced to a sex-driven murderer. “Your sins are grave my son. But say eight hail Mary’s, six our Father’s and go around the rosary for every time you indulged in the sin of the flesh. Then get from my sight”. “Thank you father” Jonah whimpered. He left the box and walked out into the main church. Father Luke was saying a quiet prayer to himself when he heard Jonah having a conversation with a woman. He left the confessional only to find Jonah stood with a woman wearing a black veiled hat and a shapely black dress. “Mrs Elgin?” Father Luke asked. Jonah turned to face Father Luke, and sure enough Mrs Elgin was stood there. The Black Widow herself. Father Luke offered a comforting smile. “My deepest condolences”. “Thank you father” she replied “I was just being comforted by Mr Wallis here”. “How can I help you?” Father Luke asked. “I need to make a confession” she replied, as she walked past Jonah Wallis, she gave his bottom a pinch. “It’s a very terrible sin I’m going to commit”. “Going to commit?” Father Luke hadn’t banked on what was going to happen next. Mrs Elgin had a small black handbag on her left arm. She opened it and retrieved a small calibre pistol. She pointed it at Father Luke and without a second’s hesitation, pulled the trigger. As Father Luke lay on the floor, bleeding out. Mrs Elgin walked over to Jonah Wallis and they kissed. “You were wonderful darling” she purred at him “We’ll definitely get away with it now”. “What do we do with the body?” Jonah asked. “I’ve already contacted my cousin in London to raid the church to make it look like a robbery gone wrong”. “I love how you think of everything” Jonah kissed her again. As they walked out into the sunshine, Jonah realised that he was at peace. Something about confession was...refreshing.


“When I was a little girl,” she began, “my parents would take me to the beach every weekend in the summer. Some days there would be a jellyfish swarm after a full moon, or a garbage barge would overturn, and we couldn’t go then, but most weekends we went. “My mother packed a cooler with cheese sandwiches, tangerines, iced tea and all that. My father carried our big beach umbrella with a pastel blue and pink pattern. I had my own little folding beach chair, the kind with snaps and straps to wear like a backpack. “Our small two-bedroom apartment was, like, a 30-minute walk from the beach. The street we took, Oceanview Avenue, ironically did not have a view of the ocean until we rounded this obnoxious apartment building. Then you saw it in all its splendor. An unbroken vastness that stretched for hundreds of miles up and down the east coast. The sand wasn’t the luxurious white like from the southern islands, it was course, golden and very warm. “Probably very similar to the sands from your home, the city in the Scythian desert. Did you know the deserts of Medina were once prehistoric seas? That was an exceptionally long time ago... “Anyway, blue-green water stretched farther than my young mind could comprehend. Neither snack cart nor hawker with a yoke of cotton candy in plastic bags could distract me from the sparkling sea. I would help pick the space for us to settle. We came earlier in the morning, and so, set up in a quiet spot between the breakers. I pretended to be a dog to dig the hole for the beach umbrella. “Even in the summer, the ocean temperature was cold, so I had a system of getting used to the chill. I stood in my one-piece bathing suit at the water’s edge and let the foamy, bubbly surf touch my toes. “I let the waves bury my feet in the sand. I imagined sinking ever deeper. It was a comfortable feeling. I could stand there and stare at the glimmery distance forever. “Once I got the green light to swim from my mother, I grabbed my goggles and splish-splashed in until I was up to my waist. From there, I dove under the first wave. Did you know that the ninth wave is usually the largest? It’s true, look it up. “Sometimes, I would sit at the surf and make drippy sand castles or dig for sand dollars and sea shells. I had quite the collection at one point. But more importantly, the rhythmic motion of the cool water washing over me was ... impactful. “Hours later, back at home, when I lay in my bed, the churn of the sea continued to affect me. I felt the waves pass through me as I slept. My dreams were filled with visions of endless, peaceful oceans. “At first, I only experienced the after-motion effect after swimming at the beach. Later, it continued as summer turned to fall and I returned to school. I felt the powerful current push and pull my body in the tub during bathtime. “I can’t remember if I was afraid or concerned. It didn’t feel malevolent. When I mentioned it to my mother, she brushed it off as a part of my over-active imagination. “On perfectly sunny days, I heard the dripping of water. Memories of the beach frothed up inside of me and gently condensed into droplets. I listened closely and heard the howl of the sea everywhere. My hands were in my pockets, but my fingertips felt the pitter-patter of rain. “My dreams turned pale and incoherent. I believed my brain fluid had been replaced with pulsating sea water. Hydrocephalic symptoms manifested. I was a small stream connected to the rivers of the cosmos, and my head was caught in the eastward flow toward the ocean. “One winter night, unable to resist the current any longer, I snuck out of my apartment and ran to the beach. Exhausted, I took off my coat, boots, and pajamas, and stood at the edge of the water. The night was exceptionally clear and the stars seemed so close that I tried to reach up and touch them. “I laid down on the sand and let the icy waves rush over me. It took my breath away. It was so cold that I almost gave up, but my body was completely numb by then. I was buried deeper into the coarse sand. The light from the stars above rippled. The frigid water forced its way into my nose, mouth, throat, lungs, stomach, intestines... “There on the beach, I fell into a deep sleep and dreamt of the Deep Sea. “I was shown the next great age. The age of a boundless ocean that covered the entire world. I swam from pole to pole and circumnavigated the equator, never breaking the surface. Colossal underwater volcanoes oozed glowing red rivers of magma. I traced the molten rock to a great lavafall that spilled over the edge to darker depths. A long time passed before I felt brave enough to explore the Great Abyssal Trench. “Ancient and powerful beings undulated in the darkness far below. I only ever caught glimpses of them. Ghostly creatures with humanoid faces and pale bodies like giant eels. They writhed in the deep. Tentacled beings suspended motionless in the gloom, carried by the current. I was moved by the profound tranquility felt in this cold world. This dark and gentle place. “I dove down to the footprints of ancient cities, the last flooded artifacts of humanity. When I picked up a foundation stone it disintegrated in my hand. I never visited the cities again. “I explored dense forests of sea vegetation and curled up to sleep inside the skulls of slain sea titans. I etched my gathered knowledge of the Deep Sea world onto the inside of these skulls. I discovered pieces of arcane writing inside caves that lead to the core of the planet. “At first, I could not decipher the scrolls, but since they resisted corrosion, I knew they were written sometime during the Deep Sea age. I continued to gather knowledge and eventually was able to translate the first few paragraphs. The scrolls described an origin point, the pathway connecting this sea to other seas across the cosmos. “Unfortunately, that’s when the dream ended. I awoke at sunrise on a beach I didn’t recognize. My family was gone. My previous life was gone. My body hadn’t aged and I remembered every detail of my long slumber. I received purpose and knowledge. “And here you are, helping me achieve my purpose. The brine in your blood brought you here. You’re caught in the same cosmic current, unable to reach shore. I can’t help you, I have to complete my research and find the origin point.


Jason opened the passenger door emblazoned with black lettering advertising " F and F Antiques - PHONE 371- DEAL" . He climbed into the seat of the late model 1998 fire-red Ford-150 truck with great care and excitement, making sure he hadn't tracked in any mud. The vehicle had all the bells and whistles and a matching enclosed utility trailer hitched to the back. Freddy Foster, the proprietor of the business and deluxe transportation package, slid behind the wheel. He started the engine and pulled into traffic. Freddy wasn't tall or handsome, but maintained a crisp and neat appearance. His eyes were crystal blue and penetrating-even his jeans were pressed and there was never a sandy hair out of place on his expensive toupee. It was carefully placed on a mannequin head every night and combed out by Freddy or his wife, Frannie. He conquered the art of applying just the right amount of Polo, achieving a pleasing scent without bathing in it. He looked over at his seventeen year old assistant and asked, "You ready to learn the ropes, Jason?" Jason nodded his head and his dark hair flopped in his eyes, which he pushed back in place. He gave a two "thumbs up" with his large fingers and asked, "Where are we going again, Mr. Foster ?" Freddy answered, "An on-site auction in Oneonta-a little over an hour away. There's supposed to be about 500 lots-tons of merch." He gave Jason a quick appraisal and asked, "How come you're not playing football?" Freddy had forgotten he had not allowed his own son- now forty-years old - to play any sports so he could be put to work helping his father. Jason replied, "Well, Mom doesn't like football and I really don't care. " Jason had repeated this half-truth several times. Jason's father could be described as a deadbeat dad. Jason's mother, Janet, worked two waitressing jobs to keep Jason and his two siblings fed and clothed. He had been relied upon to babysit his younger sisters while his mom worked crazy hours. They were now self-sufficient, but Jason felt his skill-set was lacking to try out now for sports that his peers had been playing for years. Freddy asked, "How is your mom doing? I saw her the other day when I stopped at the diner for breakfast. I might pop over later to take a look at the dishwasher. " Jason said, "That would be great." Privately, he thought Freddy was sweet on her. Jason had always been proud that he had a pretty mother who liked to joke and have fun. This combination made her the largest tip earner at the diner. Freddy's Frannie, on the other hand, might make Jack the Ripper run in the other direction. She had a voice that cut right through you, no matter what her mood might be. Their aggressive mixed- breed family dog, Baby, slunk to the ground when she called out to Freddy when he was in the garage with his antiques. Freddy turned the radio on and Elvis belted out "Jailhouse Rock ". "Your generation has garbage music compared to this. I was about your age when Elvis first became popular", Freddy said. Jason learned Freddy's taste in music two months ago when he first started working for him, learning to refinish antiques. School had just gotten out for summer between Jason's junior and senior years and he was at loose ends. This apprenticeship was arranged by Freddy. He floated the idea to Janet at the diner. It made perfect sense-he needed a helper. Jason could earn extra money and learn the trade. Besides, their duplex apartment was only two houses down from Freddy's house and antique business. Janet agreed without consulting Jason and he started working the third week in June. When Elvis finished up, Jason leaned over and changed the station. They often played this game with each other while refinishing furniture or while dealers browsed the offerings in the garage. Last year's hit single, "My Heart Will Go On", belted out by Céline Dion, had just started. Jason joined in with his powerful voice as he knew the lyrics and Dennis listened attentively and with admiration. When the song ended, Freddy said, "That was great, kid." Nonetheless, he reached over and moved the dial until he found a Pat Boone song. Although it wasn't much of a compliment, Jason couldn't remember his father giving any. They rode in companionable silence, except for the radio , until they were five miles away from their destination. Freddy broke the silence and said, "I want you to remember a few rules since this is our first road trip. Don't be overly talkative with anybody. There are no friends at auctions and we don't want to let on what we're interested in. You might see some dealers here that buy from me and the same holds for them. Don't question anything I do. If you want to ask me something, wait till the ride home. People are jealous of me and might say something nasty. Ignore them and don't say anything. Understand?" Jason nodded his head , a little surprised but not shocked. When he first started working, he realized what a tremendous work ethic Freddy had. He had great organizational skills and everything was kept in its place. He was meticulous in repairing or refinishing furniture and paintings . He brought in fresh merchandise on a regular basis to supply the dealers with items for their shops. He accomplished this by rising at the crack of dawn to hit estate sales, flea markets, auctions and house calls. He had developed a very practiced eye for hidden gems and desirable objects to wholesale to the trade. He taught Jason how to strip, stain, repair and glue furniture. Jason was able to patch holes and small rips to paintings under Freddy's tutelage. He learned the human element of the business as well-how to talk reluctant buyers into purchasing, driving hard deals and pitting the dealers against each other. At least once a week, Freddy ordered Jason outside while he discussed "business ". Jason could sometimes hear the fighting and cussing. Jason talked about his family, friends and school while they were working and Freddy seemed to take a real interest. While curious about the reasons for the arguments with the dealers, Freddy deflected most of Jason's questions and the subject was dropped. After two months, Jason accumulated quite a stash of cash, giving a lion's share to his mother. He was able to buy designer clothes and sneakers and appreciated the luxury of spending money. Sometimes, he saw thousands of dollars exchanging hands in a matter of hours. He enjoyed the work and thought maybe he'd stick with this trade next year after graduation since his grades weren't the best. Freddy became a substitute father of sorts and Jason was a grateful recipient of his attention and knowledge. They pulled into the on-site auction and were among the first arrivals. Freddy wanted a good parking spot and a two hour preview of the items for sale before the action started. Freddy registered at the desk and covered two chairs under the auction tent with newspapers in order to reserve them. Jason and Freddy prowled the house and grounds, examining the merchandise. Freddy made notes on his bidding card-number 66- of the lots he was interested in. Just before the bidding started, Freddy asked Jason if he saw anything he liked. Jason replied, "Mom would like that huge blue vase with the hand-painted flowers. It's her birthday next month. " Freddy nodded and said, "I'll be back. " A dealer who looked familiar to Jason who was seated across the aisle said, "You're just like that Van Halen song." When Jason looked confused, the man provided further explanation. "You know, 'Running with the Devil'. " He glanced at the bidding card with the number 66 laying on the empty chair. "One more 6 and it would be the mark of the beast! ", he laughed. Jason followed Freddy's orders and ignored him. Just then, Freddy came back carrying hot dogs, chips and sodas for them both. Jason thought Freddy was a mind reader. "How did you know I was starving?", he asked. Freddy replied, "You're a teenager ." They both laughed and the auction started. Over the next hour, Jason observed while Freddy bought six lots, mostly furniture. The merchandise was dispersed outside the sale tent and marked with the bidders' numbers with chalk when sold and the smaller items brought directly to the buyers. Freddy pulled one of the auction runners aside, whispered to him and shoved cash into his hand. Within the next ten minutes, Freddy bought three lots, including the vase. Freddy handed the $200 purchase over to Jason and said, "It's on me." Jason was overwhelmed and couldn't speak. Nobody had ever been this generous. Jason examined and admired the 150 year old piece of fine porcelain while Freddy paid the tab. Freddy returned and then said, "Come with me." They walked back to the truck with the vase and Freddy's smaller purchases. The finds were packed in boxes with newspapers. Freddy and Jason started loading the furniture- roughly a dozen pieces in all. Jason didn't remember Freddy buying two of the dressers, one chest, a table and an oriental rug, yet they were marked "66". They completed their task without anyone paying them the slightest bit of attention. When they got to Schenectady , Freddy pulled into the parking lot of an Italian restaurant. Jason heard his mother speak of this landmark and hoped to bring her here sometime. "Still hungry?", asked Freddy. Jason rapidly nodded his head up and down. When they were working their way through huge portions of lasagna following appetizers and salad, Jason worked up the courage to ask about the extra lots they loaded on the truck "Gee, Mr. Foster, I don't remember some of those things being sold." Freddy said, " There was too much stuff to get through and the auction manager let me buy those extra lots directly because I told him I had to leave. Even if I stole them, they had it coming because the auctioneer ran me up, taking bids from imaginary buyers." Jason digested this information, not knowing whether to believe it or not. Freddy studied Jason carefully and said, "You remind me of my son, Frankie, when he was your age." Jason seldom heard Freddy discuss Frankie but knew he was in the business as well. "How is he doing?", he asked. "I bailed him out of jail last week", said Freddy. He went into an explanation that mostly went over Jason's head about check kiting. Jason gleaned that it was a scheme used to purchase items using various accounts that had insufficient funds, buying time until the checks cleared. "I learned him better than that", Freddy said. He sighed as he paid the bill and pushed himself out of the booth. He said, " There probably will be the usual suspects waiting for us at the garage. " Sure enough, there were about six pickers and dealers waiting for them at Freddy's. There was a buying frenzy, as they had to make snap decisions while competing over the haul. Most of the items didn't make it to the garage-they were unloaded from Freddy's truck to the vehicles of the new buyers. After the flurry of excitement died down, Jason got a quick glimpse of the auction receipt on Freddy's desk. There was no record of four items Jason helped load. Freddy said he turned a $3000 profit and handed Jason $200. "See you next Saturday", he said. Jason showed up at 9:30 the following week, expecting to refinish furniture. Instead, Freddy announced, "Road Trip !" They drove north for forty minutes, headed for the multi-dealer shop in Glens Falls. Again, Freddy gave a pep talk just before they got there. "Jason, remember that dog painting I sold to Ron two weeks ago?", he asked. Jason thought, and then recalled. "Yes, it was a pug on a red velvet sofa. He paid $300 for it," he said. Freddy continued, "Well, the check bounced and I'm getting my dog back. Mary is working the desk today. I'll show you Ron's booth and you'll grab my painting and take it to the truck while I'm distracting Mary." Freddy fended off Jason's objections. He assured him that he hadn't been paid, that the surveillance system wasn't working and he knew how to handle the situation in the slight chance anything went wrong. Jason's hands and knees were shaking as he lifted the disputed dog down from the wall and walked past the empty front desk. Mary was showing Freddy a piece of jewelry in a distant case and he was charming her. Jason's heart thumped loudly in his chest until they were five miles down the road. He and Freddy "high-fived" and Jason realized that he got a thrill after all was said and done. Freddy yanked off the price tag and called Ron a thief when he saw it was marked $2500. Freddy sold the painting for $1000 on a picking/selling expedition in Connecticut a few days later. The next road trip the following week was to an estate sale in Amsterdam. Jason and Freddy set out early at 4AM so they could get the first numbers handed out at 6AM for the 9AM start time. They were #1 and #2 to gain entrance, but Freddy sold Jason's number for $200 to another dealer who overslept. Jason waited in the truck while Freddy bargain -hunted. He was on stand-by to help Freddy load. A picker coming out of the sale noticed Jason and yelled, " You're working for F,F,and F Antiques ! Flimmed, Flammed and Effed !" Jason got angry and his face became flushed, but he said nothing. At 10AM, Freddy came out of the grand house. He motioned and Jason sprang into action.They carried out a few rugs, several bronzes and five pieces of furniture. The last lot was a small pine chest of drawers. Jason was surprised because it seemed to be of a cheaper quality than Freddy usually bought. He noted it was heavier than it should be and could hear a few objects rolling around in it. He suggested they take out the drawers and Freddy said sharply, "Shut up!" Just as they passed the checkout desk, the bottom drawer gave way and several objects within crashed on the floor. Candlesticks, small bronzes, sterling silver and various small items clanged and rolled about while the shocked audience stared at the treasure trove. A few workers came over to help out. The checkout clerk yelled, "Those items haven't been paid for !" There were audible gasps and Jason felt the heat rise up in his neck and face. He never felt more embarrassed. The staff ordered Freddy and Jason to stay put while the next strategy was mapped out. The estate sale head was familiar with Freddy and had a plan at the ready to deal with him. It was decided that Freddy and Jason must empty their pockets and allow a voluntary search of the truck. Otherwise, the police would be called. Freddy consented to the humiliating procedure. Every item in the chest, two bronzes on the truck, a wristwatch and diamond ring found in Freddy's pocket were returned. They were banned from any future sales. It was a quiet return trip. When they arrived at home base, Freddy and Jason unloaded in silence and Freddy directed Jason to strip an oak table. The mood was tense and awkward until the regulars showed up at 3PM , looking for deals. When Freddy went into the house to use the bathroom, Kevin said in a low voice, "We heard about the sale ! A word of advice- get a different job!" The other three pickers echoed his sentiment and quickly changed the subject before Freddy walked in. All that night, Jason tossed and turned thinking about his relationship with Freddy. He had been so grateful to be taken under Freddy's wing. He earned more money than his classmates, learned a useful skill set and was able to help support his mom. The intangibles were just as important. He felt important, valued and listened to. The void of having no male role model was somewhat filled. He wanted to believe in Freddy, but the events of the day left no doubt there was a dark side to his mentor. He wrestled all week whether he was going on a house call with Freddy on Saturday. Ultimately, he went with Freddy to the old woman's house. He didn't know what he'd tell his mother about the job if he quit. She'd been through so much lately. The drive to the Saratoga house call went better than expected. Last week's episode wasn't mentioned, and Freddy was very attentive as he asked about Jason's week at school. Freddy worked his charm on Beatrice, who was downsizing to a senior apartment. She had a lot of great stuff and seemed interested in giving Freddy the deal-she would let him know. Just as they were leaving, Freddy told Beatrice that he hoped she'd choose him-that his wife Frannie was fighting cancer and he could use the business. Beatrice was moved to tears and waved goodbye to them both. It was quiet on the way home until they pulled in the driveway and got out of the truck. Jason said, "I'm so sorry about your wife-is it serious?" Freddy said with a laugh," I made that up to get the deal !" The white-hot anger rose up in Jason and his face turned beet-red. "My mother just went through a cancer scare. What kind of sleeze bag lies about that?" As he stomped off towards home without looking back, Jason realized how fuzzy his moral clarity had gotten in pursuit of filling the hole in his heart. He hoped his judgment and trust in others would return.


In the year 2033, where humanity has reached a place where the development in science and technology is in its best like never before. As a result all the countries in the world came together and formed a combined space expedition program named SpaceExplore. The Aim of this program is to colonize moon by 2050. In order to achieve the goal, SpaceExplore has sent several scientists and men from various fields to the moon and made them built a space colony and with this, it will help them in determining whether moon is suitable for habituation. So, SpaceExplore has requested all the countries to select a few people from their respective countries and in each year one person from every country will be sent to moon. The only task the people sent are given, and that is to survive and start civilization. And if the people sent every year till 2045, manages to survive without any complications, this program will be considered as success and by 2050 all the people interested in shifting to moon will be sent and the moon will become our second home. Considering requests from SpaceExplore the countries have picked a few people and made them prepare for their first expedition in space. As a result the selected few have to undergo 6 months of space program training and survival programs. Several years have passed since and the world is in 2043. The program seemed to go well and all the previous sent people have shown a consistency in their stay in moon. None of them reported sick or any illness. This sent a wave of joy all around the globe and people started to think of buying the lands in moon and this resulted in the real estate business and several other business coming in the picture for future stay in moon. The confidence in people have increased when even SpaceExplore also announced “the program is almost 80 percent success and within no time the human civilization will be reaching the moon.” “Now it is the year 2044 “January” and it is my turn to be sent to the moon”. “I am smith from New York. I work as Network Security Engineer for a reputed company. I am 26 years old.” “So, “bud” finally it is your turn for the moon?” asked my friend Dan. “Yes, bud” I replied nervously and also afraid. Seeing me, Dan started making fun of me and said that I am afraid of nothing and in return he also said “that I fear for everything and I am a scaredy cat.” The actual reason for me to be afraid is not because I am scared or else I love to stay in earth or not even that I miss my family. It’s because I know the truth. And I have got to know the truth just a day before. A certain something said by SpaceExplore last year in November was my motivation behind finding the truth behind the SpaceExplore program. It said that “the program is very successful and no person reported sick till now”. This statement was the reason why I had my doubts because people when in earth which is the most suitable planet for to live and still many people fall ill and many die due to some or other illness. But why everyone in the moon did reported no illness till now and it’s already been 10 years since the people gone there. Seeing everything to be going perfect did not make no sense to me. First I thought it was my assumption as a security engineer and also hacker. “Yes”. I also am a hacker and no one knows about this, not even my parents or best friends. It is my own dirty secret because I am no ethical hacker. I thought that I may find answers, if I find what exactly happens in the 6 months training program before going to moon. I also felt strange that SpaceExplore has a strict rule that the people once entered the training cannot come in contact with the people outside or vice versa. So, I decided to hack into SpaceExplore Database and find out the truth. I have tried to get into the system for the whole month and found it very difficult to penetrate into the system. Such was the security of SpaceExplore. Maybe that’s why no one has been able to hack into the system till now I though. Otherwise, he would have exposed all the things he found in it to the world. It is almost New Year and I decided to give up on hacking into the SpaceExplore and just then when I switched on the television, I found out that the guy who is a part of the system security in the SpaceExplore is none other than the security Engineer of my first company. I have always hated him as he was such a jerk. I decided to use him to hack into the system. I called him up and asked him if I could meet him for New Year. He quickly accepted and hence we met in his home and partied all night. Just what I wanted. I used his home Wi-Fi to hack into his system and placed a bug there. Next day when he logged in, I was able to get his credentials and it helped me to hack into the database. What I saw when going over the database shocked me to the core. And for a moment I couldn’t even think straight and whole night has passed and I still am scared to the core. I had taken leave from office as I was unable to digest what I saw. After finding out the truth, I decided to hide so that no one would find me and later expose the truth. So the next day I went to office so that no one would grew suspicious of me and started to prepare for my hiding and also to think of a plan to expose SpaceExplore. To execute the plan I need someone’s help to expose them and also help me with information and stuff. To that I need someone trustworthy and also intelligent. The only person that came to my mind was Dan and also he is the only friend I have. So, I invited Dan to my home next day to seek his help. He came to my home, I explained him everything and asked him to help me fight SpaceExplore so that many others along with me will be saved. The truth that I found was, “that the whole SpaceExplore program was one big scam and the people who were sent to where being killed. All the things about building space colony and sending scientists establishing of human civilization were lies. The database stated that we still don’t have the required technology for civilizing moon and it will take lots of money and time to create that sort of technology. It is only possible for us to go to moon only after the year 2100 only after everything goes well. So for SpaceExplore to achieve that they need Money in huge amounts. As the governments cannot provide that kind of money as they have their own countries to run and also their own pockets to fill. So SpaceExplore along with governments of different nations came up with a plan of fake Space program and make believe in it which as a result people will get drawn to it and will start buying lands on the moon and various business will start and can get money from people all around the world. Later when people question they always can say something happened in the last moment. As people are foolish and will believe anything media and government says. So that is the reason they picked one person per country because if they would choose more people that would raise in suspicion and also the people whom government selected were mostly orphans and someone with one or two family members alive. The reason being if they select the people of these categories they wouldn’t have any families that would want to contact them.” Even I was selected because I have no one expect my father who have abandoned me and got married, now lives with his wife. Dan accepted to my request and decided to help me. As I have only a week to go to space training program, we decided that I would go into hiding two days before as it would cause huge uproar and that starts questioning people. And after that based upon the situation we would find out a way to expose the truth to the world. If I had the copy of database I could have directly put it in the internet but the server didn’t allow me to do so as the policies and information protection system for the data are so strong and advanced. The day has come and I went into the hiding. But to my surprise there was no uproar in the media which seemed strange as normally media would come up to the houses of people who would go to space and try to interview them. And moreover I am the only one in the whole United States going for this year and everyone knows. The day has passed without any cause and everything was normal and I went to sleep. The next day when I woke up I was shocked seeing around. I was in the headquarters of SpaceExplore and didn’t know how I got here. I was tied to a chair inside a room that looked like a laboratory. And suddenly two people entered the room one was an official and the other Dan. Seeing Dan I understood that he is the reason I got captured and that he betrayed me as he was scared that government would harm him and if he told everything they might pay him ransom amount. Dan showed me the check he received from SpaceExplore and thanked me for telling him the truth so that he earned this money. He was about to go, just then some people with armored guns came inside the room along with a person. He is none other than SpaceExplore’s CEO Michael James. As soon as he came he ordered one of his henchmen to shoot Dan. After Dan got shot he turned towards me and said no one escapes from SpaceExplore after knowing the truth. At that moment I decided that even I would be killed, but to my surprise Michael ordered me to work for him in securing their Systems. He told that he would like to employ because he was impressed by me as I am able to penetrate the SpaceExplore Systems but in return I would be forever restricted from going outside and will be under 24 hour surveillance or else I can die right here. Having no other way I am struck here forever working for SpaceExplore. But I am also waiting for an opportunity so that I can expose everything to the world. The End