“You better beat me down there. I don’t like wife beaters, and I don’t like men who touch children,” said an elderly-sounding man. The phone disconnected, and the line went dead. “What the hell?” I muttered, my hand frozen on my keyboard. “What just happened?” Alicia asked, swiveling her chair toward me, her voice edged with concern. “Check the update,” I said, rubbing my temples as I tried to piece together what I had just heard. Calls like this one always left a pit in my stomach - a mess of fear and danger lingering in the air. The adrenaline that hit when you knew something was about to go very wrong. Alicia’s brow furrowed as she leaned over her screen, reading the latest update aloud to the officers already en route to the call. Her voice, usually steady, held a slight tremor. We’d been through some rough calls in this windowless 911 center, but something about this one felt different. Alicia and I had been working together for almost five years, sitting side by side, monitoring the chaos as it played out on the other end of the line. Over the years, we’d learned each other’s rhythms--the unspoken language that formed between two people who spend too many late nights wading through tragedy and disaster. She was sharp, quick with her words, and always had a calm presence when the world was falling apart. I’d seen her manage everything--from multi-car crashes to missing children--but nothing ever shook her like domestic calls. Maybe it was because those were the ones that stuck with you, the ones that haunted you long after the shift ended. Alicia once told me, after a particularly brutal call, that it was never the emergencies you were prepared for that got you--it was the ones that felt like they’d been building up for years. “That voice,” I muttered, my mind circling back to the phone call. “Jim, the neighbor. He sounded old, but angry. Like he’s been holding onto this for a long time.” “Yeah,” Alicia agreed, her voice low as she transmitted more updates to the officers. “And it sounds like he’s about to snap. Do we have anything on the address?” I tapped a few keys, pulling up the files we had. “Jessica and Matthew. Married for at least five years. There’ve been a couple of noise complaints, one domestic disturbance call--no arrests.” “Figures,” Alicia said, shaking her head. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening. Just means they weren’t cooperating with the cops.” I nodded, feeling a twist in my gut. It’s always like that . The signs were always there if you knew where to look. Jim’s call wasn’t just frustration. He’d probably been watching this unfold from his front porch for months, helpless as the system failed Jessica. Maybe that’s why he was so angry. I didn’t know much about Jessica, but I could picture her standing in her hotel room, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the wedding ring she likely still wore. I imagined her on her wedding day, smiling nervously, twisting that ring as she made her vows, believing that this man, Matthew, was her future. That he loved her, that their life would be full of promise. Back then, the ring must’ve felt light--symbolic of the love she thought she was building. But now? Now it was a chain. A burden. With every hit, every scream, the weight of that small band must’ve grown heavier, binding her to him, making it harder to leave. I imagined her staring at it, the metal cold against her skin, the love long drained from it, leaving only a hollow symbol of the violence she endured. The phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts. I picked up. “911, what’s your emergency?” The voice on the other end was calm, unnervingly steady. “It’s me again. Jim. I shot him.” My breath caught in my throat. “Who did you shoot, Jim?” “Matthew,” he said, like he was stating the obvious. “He’s dead in the driveway. I warned you guys to beat me there. I wasn’t going to wait. He would’ve killed her.” I glanced at Alicia, who had stopped typing. Her hands trembled as she scrambled to give the officers the new update. The tension in the room was palpable, the kind that sat heavy on your chest and made it hard to breathe. “Where’s the gun now, Jim?” I asked, keeping my voice as steady as possible. It was important to keep him talking, to make sure this didn’t escalate any further. “I gave it to the bartender,” he said, the calmness in his voice unsettling. “I’m sitting at the bar, waiting for the cops. Just wanted to let you know--he won’t hurt anyone anymore.” There was a long pause. I could hear the low murmur of conversation in the background, the soft clink of glasses. It was surreal, this calmness in the wake of violence. “Okay, Jim,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Stay where you are. The officers are on their way. Keep your hands off the gun.” He didn’t say goodbye. The line just went dead. I sat there for a moment, gripping the mouse so hard I thought I might break it. Alicia’s voice hummed in the background, updating the officers as the situation unfolded, but I barely heard her. I couldn’t shake the image of Jessica, hiding in some dingy hotel, her fingers tracing that ring she probably didn’t even want anymore. Later, after the dust had settled, we learned more about Jim. He wasn’t just a nosy neighbor--he was a good man, trying to protect someone he cared about. Matthew had been beating Jessica for months. Jim had called the cops a few times when he heard the fights, but nothing ever came of it. Jessica never pressed charges. She was too scared, too stuck. One day, Jessica finally confided in Jim. She told him everything--how she felt trapped, how she didn’t know how to get out. Jim, being the kind of man who couldn’t stand by and watch someone suffer, had helped her leave. He paid for her to stay at a hotel, just until she could figure things out. He thought it was enough. But Matthew had found her. Somehow, he always found her. Our first call that night was for a domestic disturbance at the hotel. The officers were on their way, but they were too far out, tied up on another call. Jessica must’ve reached out to Jim, told him Matthew had found her. That’s when Jim called us--when he decided he wasn’t going to wait for help. I later watched the body-cam footage. Jessica sat in the detective’s office, recounting her story. Her hands fidgeted with her wedding ring, twisting it around her finger, back and forth, the diamond catching the light as she spoke. That ring had once been a symbol of love, a promise of a future she thought she’d have. But as Matthew’s violence grew, it had become something else--a reminder of the life she was trapped in, the life she couldn’t escape. As she finished her story, she slid the ring off her finger and dropped it on the floor. I watched as it rolled across the tile, the sound barely a whisper in the silence of the room. She stared at it for a long moment, then stood up and left without picking it up. I couldn’t help but wonder if, in that moment, the weight of the ring had finally disappeared.


>**[QUICK NOTE ALSO WARNING]** I already posted a little bit of this and I've since updated it with quite a bit more. I wasn't totally motivated to keep writing but I've since gotten a job and any second I have free I write. Now for the **[WARNING]** bit, this story is a graphic first person telling of a child killer; he's based off of Albert Fish so he does eat them. Lastly this is an ongoing project, all criticism or advice is greatly appreciated. A stone cell Each stone in the wall had more age and life than I could comprehend, my fingers play upon the cracks careful not to break the aged lines. My hands find themselves tired searching every message these rocks have to give, nails run raggad clicking in rythem to the music preserved to each crack, like each note to a score. My wrists hurt from the shackles bound to them, their embrace neither tight nore loose. The pressense enough to remove any will to break the binds, or even to perppetuate an imagination capable of the thought to escape. The air so thick from a rippled blanket of decay, my nose burnt by the remains of those I once considered brothers. No family behind these walls, no blood between those too weak to shed it. To say that a life without these walls isn't but a distant memory is a mockery of what I've suffered here. Every second of my life prior to its cage blazes past my eyes in patterns so inense that I've lost the sight for anything else. My memories of the is world as I now know it are by no means a life to live, regardless of how long my stay is to be, I was dead long before my last breathe. My mind still in its endless walts at intances takes certain pauses, eyes of miasmic storms just large enough to allow awarness. During these opressive voids, I torment myself with the beckoning of questions. As my body turns to dust, I always have the same inquarie, forever wondering why had this not happened sooner? Had my life been ended early, the temptation of a return would be weaker, the husk left behind stronger enough to face its abysmal excistance. Mercy be it too sacred of word to pass these pale lips, I have known my deeds as foul from their conception to their sin soaked execution. The eyes of my victims forever surround my walls, pealing away at the unstable sanity that had been clung to with a feveroris grip. As I would ask the same given the placement of your eyes, I wasn't born into confinement nor was I placed by a careless agent of justice; I defined the layer of hell that holds me. Innocence was the target of my wrath, I could not say it was taken as I didn't leave a single drop to exist. The year of our lord where I resided, I walked among the alleys, and the sewage that fell upon them; a voyeur to society and its civilized inhabitants. Give it not the size, one could not see difference between my brethren and the bloated rats that plagued the streets. Do not attempt sympathy, or consider my bedfellows the reason to this corrupted path I limp through. Given the choice between lands of furnishing or moist decay, I'd always take the latter; more freedom to be true to my manners. Secondly a demon be it dressed in rags or lace is still a forked tongue devil, as I've seen my same wrong doings in the eyes of others. We all have our vices, as we all worry to what ends we'll be drowned by them; my personal brand was the hands of the young and unwilling. While my mind never had been upon other thoughts, I was only spellbound via eclipsed moments where the thought of not would sear until I had begun. At this point I was taken, my body moonlit to another, a beast of sin and flesh. While I knew the crime being committed, I was never ostrisised by the lingering eyes, only by the broken symphony in my head. It was not until my hands fell upon royal blood did a whisper of my existence fall among the civilized. Yet the sin itself felt no worse than anything I had done thus far. Her cries no more refined, her tears no less salty, and her blood showed no sign of any more imperfection compared to even my own. Her flesh bore little resistance to teeth, as is the same for the rest. Once I awoke from my lustful haze, I began the process to hide my shame while also immortalizing it all. There was a shelf in an abandoned shack of which I considered my abode, on said shelf were little trinkets set in neat little rows. The only vanity I held was for these treasures, each one from each potential full life lived who crossed my gaze. My favorite was a set of pearls as I had taken a foster role for a time with this child, they enjoyed walking the shores and these pearls were a present from them. My method of disposal is simplistic while just as vile as the first act, as we humans have the same savory taste of pork, the trick is merely to complete the illusion. The easiest method is to have the remains submerged in scolding water until even the bones are the consistency of soup, as for the head however there a problem arises. My method of habit is to sever the cheeks, nose, and ears as they are still succulent; with the rest I make a contribution to the gullets of the wild including their clothes. Children were always told to stay away from the forest, such tales humane compared to my own sins. After the clean up for this child, with body set to roast I took to her clothing, the nobility was off putting however I couldn't see how countless youth being taken prior would have any less ramifications. That's when my gaze focused on the crest upon the late child's locket, while I knew nothing regarding politics of this country, I was very aware I was staring at the crest of the king. I sat ever so still, in naive hopes that may also soon pass. Night was still defended, but it didn't matter anymore, the child of royalty was dead and my hands more so than ever were stained. I knew I had to attempt something, so after hours petrified in fear I ran to the forest with the child's clothes and partial remains. The forrest reserved no strength against me, the long reaching arms of the trees tearing away at me, the howling faces in their knotted bark. Voices of the vacant were nothing new to me, however nothing of this intensity. "He's here!" "Burn the demon!" "Kill him, rip him limb from limb!" The voices fell to whispers and quieter still as I reached my planned resting grounds. I marked these grounds by a rusted spade set to a rotted stump, while I never used it to turn soil as the point was to give the illusion of the corpse being taken by wolves. After hours of toiling finding a suitable place for the remains, I came upon uplifted roots that had been shaped in such a manner to only allow access to that of a child. I placed her face down into the roots, and shredded her clothing haphazardly from there. As the last bit of cloth was placed I filled my lungs for what felt as new a experience, my flesh constricted from the night's in forgiving chill, never have my hands felt so unclean, my mind with such unrest. As my heart began to slow I heard a voice, to my dismay it was not of my own corrupted design. "Damn fucking snakes, get away from me!" To what ends will I be tested this day I thought, no one of sound mind traverses these woods, so this voice was not of an innocent man. Regardless of their transgressions I had to act as I did not want her to be found premature. I took towards the voice careful not to be revealed, as I crept closer still the voice still proclaimed on about the serpents. I was finally able to lay sight on the figure, he stood seven heads tall, dressed in fatigues of a royal guard. I sat still for moment to calculate my next action, as were it to be too rash I'd find my head on the chopping block. On one hand I've committed no wrong doings to his knowledge, however I parish the thought as no innocent men traverses these woods, unless hunting the wicked. I know what needed to be done to rid myself of this trial, I turned back to the resting grounds as I required a tool to complete the task.


I was done. This time I meant it. There were several times in my life where I found myself considering it, contemplating taking my trip to the other side. The last time I had called the suicide hotline, and eventually decided to give life one more try. Not this time. I felt completely at peace about it. This time, I was truly ready. I slipped the rope over my neck. The rope was tied to a metal loop that was drilled into the framing to be sure that I would not fail. I lifted my foot, ready to step off the chair. Then someone knocked on the door. Who the hell could be knocking on the door? I spent every last dollar I had to rent this remote cabin, where I could spend my last weekend in beauty and peace. The nearest cabin was a half mile away. Curiosity got the better of me, it’s not like the rope was going anywhere. Peering through the window, I could see a man wearing a black hoodie, with the hood up. He knocked again, louder. “Goddamnit,” I said out loud. I wanted this to be peaceful, and this asshole was ruining the vibe, screwing up my plan. I walked out of the single bedroom onto the loft, and down the stairs where the living room, kitchen, and front door were. Since he didn’t seem to be leaving on his own, I opened the door. “What do you want?” I said rudely. “Good evening, sir,” The stranger said, a little too nicely. He had black hair and a Well trimmed beard. “My car broke down about a mile down that dirt road and I was wondering if I could use your phone?” The man sounded like a used car salesman, fake and rehearsed. “I don’t have a phone,” I told him coldly. It was a lie, of course. “Oh I’m sure you have a phone, all the cabins up here do.” “Not this one.” I started shutting the door when he stuck his foot in the doorway, preventing me from shutting the door all of the way. “It’ll only take me 30 seconds then I’ll be gone.” Without even giving him a response, I pushed him away from the door and slammed it shut. For good measure, I locked the deadbolt as well. I should have been more disturbed, but really I was just grumpy about the dudes timing, ruining my peaceful death. Why should I help the guy anyway? Nobody had ever leant me a helping hand. That’s just how this cruel world works, nobody gives a shit. And who puts their foot in someone's door? I walked back upstairs and peered out through the window to watch him leave. He was gone, but I hadn’t seen him leave. The dirt road leading up to the cabin was long and straight, I should be able to see him still walking away. I needed to make sure this guy was gone, so I could find my peace with death again. I checked all the windows, looking for the weirdo. Nothing. He must have run or something and made it out of sight quickly. I pushed the asshole out of my mind, it was time to find my peace again. I realized that the sun was now starting to set over the nearby mountain peaks. Why not watch it? This would be my last sunset, and It sure was a beautiful one. I pulled the cozy recliner chair to the large upstairs window. Brilliant colors of orange and pink now filled the sky. The clouds were broken up, creating the appearance of a large beautiful pathway over the horizon. There it was, my beautiful pathway to the afterlife had presented itself. It was time to take the path. Standing back on the chair, I once again placed the rope over my neck. I positioned myself so I was facing the sunset. At that moment, I was completely at peace with my death. Loud panicked knocking at the door startled me so much that I almost fell off the chair. “What the HELL?” This time I yelled it out loud. Once again, my beautiful peaceful moment had been shattered. I removed the rope and went over to the opposite window to see who the hell had screwed everything up. This time, it was not the hooded weirdo standing at the door, It was a girl. She was crying and panicked, knocking repeatedly. As I approached the door, I could hear her now pleading for help, still pounding on the door. The second I opened the door she pushed herself in, slamming the door behind her and locking it. “What the Hell...” I started asking, but before I could finish my question she reached out and pulled me into a tight hug. Never in my life had I felt anybody embrace me as tightly as this crying girl was embracing me right now. My entire demeanor immediately changed. I hugged her back. “What's going on? Wha- what’s wrong?” I asked her, with genuine concern. She pulled back and looked me in the eye. I couldn’t help but notice that, even through her tears, she was absolutely beautiful. Her long dark hair complemented those beautiful green eyes. They were a shade of green that I had never before seen. For a moment, I lost myself in her eyes. I came back to reality when she started talking. “He killed her, he killed Jess.” She sobbed. “What? Who? Who’s Jess?” “This man. He, he came to the door, he asked to use the phone so I let him in. Then he, he pulled a knife and he killed her!” The girl burst into uncontrollable sobs and buried her face in my shoulder. I squeezed her tightly. It hit me, at that moment. She had just described the man that had knocked on the door earlier. Holy shit, that man had killed somebody. Snapping into task mode I led the girl into the kitchen where I called 9-1-1. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” “My name is Dean Johansen, there’s been a Murder, please come quick!” I gave her the address of the cabin I was staying at, thankfully it was on a card by the landline phone. I asked the girl for the address where the murder happened. She didn’t know, but she managed to tell the operator that her name was Sarah and that someone had just murdered Jess. “Okay Sir, umm- please lock the doors and stay inside, emergency responders will be there in about 30 minutes.” The phone lady told me. “30 minutes? What do you mean 30 minutes? There’s a MURDERER on the loose!” “I’m sorry sir, that’s the closest law enforcement to you, you’re in a remote area.” Before I could respond, there was a loud knock on the door. Sarah cried and I dropped the phone. Quietly, I walked to the door and nervously looked through the peephole. It was him, the hooded car salesman asshole. He was covered in blood now and holding a dripping knife. “I need to borrow your PHONE!” The man said, his fake nice had been replaced with a manic and loud tone. BOOM! He kicked the door. I ran to the kitchen to grab my own knife. Sarah was already holding one. BOOM! There was another kick. We stood there, terrified, and not knowing what to do. I braced for another boom, but there wasn’t one. It was silent. “Why don’t you go upstairs,” I told Sarah. “I’ll stay down here just in case.” I came to this cabin prepared to meet death, Sarah didn’t deserve that though. I had only just met her, but I felt a genuine desire to protect her. Sarah nodded and headed up the stairs. Just as she crossed the final step, the window of the sliding glass back door exploded as a rock blasted through. The man came climbing in through the large window. The expression on his face was one of adrenalized mania. I grabbed an ugly vase off the nearby end table and threw it at him with all my might. It missed terribly. Knife still in my hand, I picked up a wooden chair and charged at him with bravery I had never felt before. The collision knocked both of us to the ground. I slashed at him with my knife, aiming for the neck. I missed again, but still slashed through his face. He slashed right back at me, putting a deep cut into my upper chest. I rolled backward, trying to get to my feet. Before I was all the way up, the chair hit me on my face and knocked me back to the ground. I stammered back up to my feet, with another slash narrowly missing me. I started punching and slashing wildly now. I admit that I don’t know how to fight, I’ve never needed to before. I connected at least once more with the knife. Then, naturally, I tripped. The man slammed that vase I threw at him onto my head, shattering into pieces. He stomped on my face, and I blacked out. I came to a couple of seconds later, to find the man almost to the top of the stairs. Sarah was screaming. Her screams sparked my adrenaline and I found myself running up the stairs. I tackled him from behind and slammed my knife into his back. I was trying to hold him down, but he was stronger than me. As he was getting back up, I saw Sarah running through the door with my rope. On cue, I grabbed around his arms, squeezing as tight as I possibly could as Sarah put the noose over his head. He was fighting violently now, I knew that I would be unable to restrain him for long, even with that knife sticking in his back. Sarah was quickly tying the other end of the rope to the banister with shaky hands. With a sudden burst of strength, the killer broke his arms free and lunged at Sarah. I charged with all my might, pushing him toward the banister. Sarah jumped into the fight as well. Together, we gave a final push, knocking the killer over the banister and off the loft. The rope caught. With an audible CRACK, his fall was broken, as was his neck. Both of our knots had held. Silence fell as the body of the man who tried to murder us swung over the living room, suspended by a noose. My noose. Sarah and I sat outside, waiting for the police to arrive. She was holding the bathroom towel over the deep cut in my chest. I was awkwardly avoiding the inevitable truth that she had seen the noose that I had intended to take my own life with. I knew she had put two and two together. She broke the awkward silence. “Were you going to kill yourself tonight?” She asked bluntly, but with a kindness that could not be mistaken. “Yes,” I admitted. “Please don’t,” Sarah told me, looking into my eyes. Her teary eyes were all so beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “I won’t,” I promised, with tears now finding their way down my face, and I meant it. - That was just over 18 months ago now, and I’m happy to tell you that I’m still here. I no longer want to die. But this story isn’t just the story of how I didn’t kill myself, but also the story of how I met my wife, Sarah. We are celebrating our honeymoon now, at a beautiful beach house overlooking the ocean. We chose a location as far from the woods as possible. We are still healing, but we are healing together. Sarah is healing from the trauma of her best friend, Jessica, being murdered. I am healing from years of personal neglect and self-destructive behavior. I didn’t realize how broken I truly was until I met Sarah. As I sit here now, under the most beautiful sunset I have seen since that fateful day, I finally realize what was missing in my life. What was missing was the feeling of being loved, and more importantly, having somebody to love.


Ben Malchuk had finally made the arduous trek up the steep, rocky mountain to the colossal open-faced cave where Rezo the Flameless resided. The 25-year-old auditor, cleared his throat and fixed his cobalt tie as he stood 30 yards away from the intimidating den. “Um, M-Mr Flameless, are you there?” Ben nervously yelled into the dark abyss of the cave. There was a momentary silence, followed by an unholy wave of screeching and stomping noises that made Ben cover his ears and shut his eyes. Finally, Rezo emerged from the shadows. Ben uncovered his ears, slowly opened his eyes and titled his head upwards to meet the purple-eyed gaze of the intimidating creature. Ben finally regained his composure. “I’m from the IRS who's here in relation to the declaration of your horde from your recent raids,” Ben said. “What about ‘em?” Rezo’s deep, booming voice replied. “Well, it says here you crushed and looted a village of 1500, but only declared 10 silver coins in your horde,” Ben said whilst staring intently at his clipboard. “Not my fault if they’re poor, besides you can’t prove they had any more,” Rezo said in a conceited manner. Ben looked up from his clipboard, “Ok, but what about the 100 square foot cave you claim is your residence in the tax-haven shire of Florate?” Rezo’s demeanor changed instantaneously and he responded nervously, “U-uh, well, I’ll admit that it’s quite cosy.” “You’re 115 feet tall and 40 feet wide sir,” Ben said matter-of-factly. Ben continued to skim through page on his clipboard, “Ah yes, also it says here you claimed 100 gold coins in your horde for ‘miscellaneous internal flame related expenses’, when you can’t breathe fire?” Rezo became more agitated and raised his voice, “How would you know?” “Well, maybe because it’s in your name,” Ben replied bluntly. There was once again a momentary silence. Rezo began to dart his eyes from side to side, then he immediately leapt into the air and his scaly black wings flapped frantically as he flew off into the distance. Ben watched and sighed. He pulled out his phone and began to dial his superior. “Hi Gary, it’s Ben and I’m he-,” “Lemme guess, another dragon did a flyer,” Gary said in an annoyed tone. “Mhmm,” Ben responded. Gary sighed, “Alright, I'll call that Witcher guy again, Geralt I think his name was.” Gary hung up.


“Ouch!” screamed Lisa while feeling this heated knob on her forehead that she got from hitting the frame of her bed. She got this weird feeling. This premonition feeling. “You alright? Oh lord, there is a whole red bump on your forehead” exclaimed Matt, Lisa’s twin brother. “Ya I think so, but I am having this weird tingly feeling” Lisa said with concern on her face. “Oh please, that’s cap, you're lying, why did you have to get that feeling before our big trip to the Devil’s cave? '' moaned Matt. “But it is that bad feeling, let's not go to the Devil’s cave today, let's postpone it, tell Emily and Jack so they know not to come” demanded Lisa. Ding dong “See even the bell wants you to go, come on, get up lazy face, Emily and Jack are here. Let us four 18 year old kids go to that cave” said Matt while rising up and throwing the blanket onto Emily’s Morning face. He went downstairs and opened the brown dutch door. “Sup Matt, how do you do” Jack pounced on Matt. “Hey Matt, everything ready for today’s trip?” questioned Emily “Everything is ready, but your best friend Lisa is not, she is saying she is having tingly feelings” he mimicked Lisa's voice. They all walked up the fusty stairs. The house that Lisa and Matt lived in was a little quaint because both parents also spent their childhood in this house. Both maternal and paternal grandparents spent their childhood in this house. After the death of the twins’ parents, the twins both settled on staying in this quaint house because one, they did not want to leave this house because it had theirs and their forebears childhood spent in this home and two, they did not have enough money to buy a different house. “Can we come in Lisa?” questioned Jack. “Ya sure, guys I am having this very weird feeling, where something disastrous will happen or where we will get caught into something disastrous. Please, let's not go” requested Lisa with her hands joined together. “Here have this” said Emily with a glass of water in her hand, “ drink this and sit in the car, we don’t have time for your nonsense” Lisa could not do anything more to convince them to not go to that devil’s cave so the only thing she could do was go with them herself. Jack helped Matt get the blue suitcase to the car and Emily helped Lisa downstairs with packing the greens and the snacks for the trip.They all sat in the car and Jack insisted that he should drive. Jack and Emily were siblings but not twins.They both lived together in an apartment because their parents had also passed away, but in a plane crash. Matt and Jack were very close friends in high school so they decided to make Lisa and Emily amigos too. And that was pretty successful. Now all four of these kids go on trips and vacations together. The four hours that went awesome and pretty fast for Matt,Jack and Emily, did not go as well for Lisa. She tried sleeping but that thought of something horrendous about to happen kept eating her insides. The appalling feeling kept coming to her when she tried eating the prawns. She thought if the prawns were all poisoned and all four adults in the car would die in 3 seconds. She hoped that looking outside would make it better but it made it worse. When she looked outside, she thought of her friends getting all atrocious and throwing her dead body under the trees for no one to find. These four hours were the longest four hours for her. At last they ended. “Look we’re here and Lisa, see nothing happened to us!” exclaimed Emily “I don’t know yet, maybe the horror still awaits for us” Lisa said in a hushed voice. “ OH GOD, THIS GIRL!” Matt, Jack and Emily yelled. “ How do you deal with this girl, Matt?” Jack exclaimed with an irritation. “ I have no idea!” Matt said while dragging the word “No”. They all got off and cleaned the mini mess they had made in the car. Emily rolls down all the windows of the car. Lisa looked at her reflection on the blue Hyundai car. Her red bump was throbbing more than ever. But she did not want to drift away from the pack so she ignored her bump and ran to the other three. Matt pulled out the keys and locked the car. They all continued walking until they reached the visitor center. Matt pointed towards the visitor center and went into the center. Jack, Emily and Lisa stood outside and looked around. Matt came outside and said “ We have to walk down a mini trail and then we will see the cave. By the cave, there is another center where we can change into our swimsuits and where they give our oxygen cylinder and more” “Okay then, what are we waiting for!” screamed Emily. Lisa started to feel sick. Her bump was hurting like it was about to slice itself off of Lisa’s forehead. She kept on getting the premonition feeling. They all meandered like the river on the zig zag trail. At last, they could smell the fresh water. They just wanted to jump in and let the water do its concert. As Lisa walked by the water, her reflection was glowing like a star. She could see that she had gotten weak because of the stress and tension. But she also felt a sense of comfort. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was in her mother’s arms. They walked to the center. “Hi, how may we help you today?“ asked the person behind the front desk “Hi, me and my friends have a booking to go in the Devil’s cave” said Matt “We are truly sorry, the cave has been closed temporarily” said the person. “ What do you mean it is closed, then why did you even say what can we help you with, the main attraction here is that cave, and if that is closed then what are we supposed to do?” interrogated Jack “Ya this is pathetic!” yelled Emily “Guys chill down, don’t get mad it... Bob,” Lisa said while reading the person’s name tag. “Be quiet Lisa, you never even wanted to come to the cave” Matt scolded and then turned his head toward Bob “so what else can we do here sir?” “Well you can go snorkeling but just don’t go in the cave,” said Bob. “ Why is the cave closed though?” asked Jack. “ Well, there was an invasive creature in the cave. We even lost five people because of that creature. So we have put a very strong cage outside of the cave” stated Bob “ What creature is it?” questioned Emily. “Well.... It is a Godshark killer” mumbled Bob “ A god what?” Matt, Lisa and Jack asked at the same time. “ A Godshark killer was an ancient titan. It is a mix of a Godzilla, shark and a killer whale,” stated Emily, “ but it went extinct a long time ago. How did you guys find it in the cave?” “ We are also not sure” said Bob “Okay then just give us the snorkeling gear and we will go snorkeling.” demanded Matt. Bob nods and goes inside this room to get our swim gear. He comes back with all this equipment. He hands them to his colleagues and they help the four kids wear everything. “Ok, remember not to take this band off, because this tells us if you are alive or not and it also helps us track you.” Bob said while tying the band onto Lisa’s hand. Jack,Lisa,Matt, and Emily secure their oxygen cylinders and dive into the water. The splash of water tingled the red bump on Lisa’s forehead. They all swam around and looked at the beautifully colored aquatic plants. Then they saw this circular rock. It had a hollow area but was closed with a very sturdy iron cage. Matt signaled and all the others followed. They reached the cage and Jack pulled out his phone that was in an air packed bag. They took a picture and turned around. Emily Jack and Matt nodded at each other and then Matt swam away to find a gap in the cage. Emily held onto Lisa because Lisa found out what they were doing. Jack took off Lisa’s band and threw it down with Emily’s band and his own band. Then Matt waved and they all swam to him. Lisa was dragged instead of swimming herself. They go into the cave and keep swimming. Lisa looked around and then the feeling came back. But this time, it was intense. She felt like something was jutting into her stomach but it was just that feeling. They all swam to the top of the cave where there was an air pocket. They took off their helmets and put their cylinders by the rocks. “Look not so bad” Matt proudly stated. “ARE YOU NUTS! We will definitely die” cried Lisa “ Oh chillax,” said Jack. “You know I am also kinda scared, I did say yes to plan of coming, but now that I think of it, what if we die. I have read that the Godshark killer leaves no one” Emily said with concern. “ Oh please shut up, don’t go into what Lisa is saying, just enjoy” assured Jack. “ Guys....... the.....the....there....there” garbled Lisa. “ What is it Lisa?” asked Emily. “There..... is..... is” Lisa murmured. “Breathe and talk,” said Matt. Lisa took a big deep breath. “There is something behind you,” Lisa took another breath “ The Godshark killer” They all turned around and gasped. Its bladed teeth. Its wide grin. It knows that these four humans will not survive. The only things that were in that cave was the red velvet blood, the humans scream echoing through the cave, and the Godshark killer waiting for its next prey.


I am sitting here at the most popular southern style cuisine restaurant the farthest corners from where I grew up. The atmosphere is comfortable, energetic and the smells are strong of Cajun spices, heavy paprika, hot peppers, and freshly fried squash. On their specials menu I notice they have “Spicy, Pickled Peppers and Links”. Calling the waiter over with a wave of my hand I ask, “What is this like?” “It is our new idea for what to do with hot dogs, they are pickled in spicy hot sauce with hot peppers and pickling stuff I think”, he tells me with a juvenile enthusiasm that travels to the depths of his naivety of the dish. “What do you think of it?” I ask “It is very good, Ma’am. It sounds funny, but I would definitely recommend it. The recipe was something the head chef’s mom used to make, and he is from what he labels the ‘Deep South’. It does burn your socks off though!” he told me with a broad, pimply smile. Keeping a straight face, I ask him to bring me an order with whatever soda label they carry, it can be Pepsi, Coke, RC Cola, I do not mind. When I was growing up this canned treat was simply known as “Hot Peppers and Weenies” and our cellar pantry usually had a shelf dedicated to the dozens of cans from canning season. My family is from the south, and what the boy just described sounds oddly familiar. What I always wanted to be able to afford and have with this canned delight was a Coke, but my family was so poor we could not afford such treats more than once a year. The buoyant waiter brings me the plate that is professionally orchestrated with the simplest dish from my poor childhood. How someone can make a plate sing in an arrangement of hot dogs and hot peppers is beyond me, but this chef is a true artist. In the middle of the plate the chef alternated peppers with weenies, I mean links. There is a splattering of fresh cilantro and red chili flakes for a garnish with a drizzling of a chili sauce reduction in small star patterns along the rim. Waving my partially cupped hand over the plate, I pull some of the steam coming off the freshly warmed sauce towards my nose, sneezing as the spice hits the inside of my nasal passage. This smell is the smell of my childhood, thankfully it is missing the dirt, sweat, tears, and blood. Forgoing my usual knife and fork, I pick up one of the delicately cut “links” and place the bite sized piece on my tongue. The flavor of the morsel combined with the rich, spicy peppers and even spicier sauce, along with some of the garnish tastes like the hills back home during the summer months. The chef’s mom must have been related to my Gran, because this transported me back to the day I ate two jars of these things in the cellar beneath my parent’s home. Something that I was never allowed to do, these cans had to be shared with family not enjoyed on your own. I had finished the first jar before heading out to the barn to check on my favorite of the horses, Whisper. I also helped care for a handful of goats, sheep, and a coop of chickens with one turkey reserved for Thanksgiving. Ma was usually happy I went up in the midday and got the eggs. She hated making her way up the windy uphill trip twice in one day to that red, pathetic barn. I would take my sweet time to walk up to the barn, probably busy playing with the animals and butterflies along the way. When I would get to the barn I would tend to the horses who I felt were my only friends, listen to the chickens cooing and cackling as a ginormous egg gets squeezed out from their backside, watch the goats and sheep bounce around the pasture, and enjoy the calm at the top of the hill overlooking the family property. Halfway between the barn and my house is a gate that separates the pasture from the garden. The garden swoops down the hill between the top where my home is and the bottom with my Gran’s home is. On the loop between our houses, furthest from the barn, is where my uncle lives. My Pa never moved far away from his Ma, and at this time I thought I would never leave either. They have tobacco fields on the hills further up the road from Pa’s home. There were four of us kids, Pa, and then Ma. We lived in a small two bedroom home. As I think of it now, that seems really small, but as a kid it never felt that way. We had a woodstove in the center that kept the home warm in the winters. Pa has a fancy bathroom in the home now, but I grew up having to go to the outhouse in the pitch dark of night. During the summers we basically just slept in the house, too hot to live in the house. I was always out with the animals or cooling off in the spring. I can still see this little valley of ours, green and lush. Dad was a great gardener. Ma was a drunk whore, but I didn’t find that out til later. Gran did her best to protect us from her youngest son’s malicious ways and Ma’s outbursts. Something that I now look back on and can’t believe was even real. Speaking of Gran, I loved it when Gran would deep fry squash and okra. She would serve fried okra along with a jar of hot peppers and weenies to us kids for a snack in the middle of the hot, humid summer afternoons when Pa would be enjoying his amber liquid between tending the tobacco. This summer was a bit different. Ma had a lot of this homemade stuff called Shine that Uncle made, and would often stay the night at men’s houses instead of at home with Pa. Pa would tell me she is having a sleepover with them and would be back in the morning. He would tell me that it was just like I would sleep over with my friend over the hill. Now I understand what was really going on, and the look in his eyes when he would tell me this as a kid makes more sense. As I was standing in the door of the barn this day, I heard a crash from my house. Crashes weren’t uncommon in my home and this didn’t cause me alarm at first. This crash was on another level than most of them though. I stopped daydreaming to listen. There came screaming, again not uncommon; however, this screaming sounded what my brain would have thought murder was. Knowing me as a kid, I did a double check on the animals and then I ran as fast as my 11 year old legs could take me down the rock ridden, dirt path towards the house. My feet were bare, we never could afford proper shoes during the summer. As I ran, Whisper trotted next to me. I flew with wings over the gate, ran past our spring, past the outhouse, and towards the home. I halted when I saw Pa come out the door with his back facing me. He took a tumble down the stairs. It was maybe two in the afternoon, I didn’t know precisely, we didn’t have watches. He was drunk. Yelling and cursing he got himself up onto his wibbling legs and he walked back into the house. I got a glimpse of Ma, she was wearing the dress she always wore when she had a friend pick her up. I don’t recall much, but I do remember they were yelling very loudly. It echoed through the valley. The usual green truck that Ma would get in came by down the road at Gran’s house. Gran and Uncle came to their porches to look towards our home, but they then went back inside. Most times they didn’t get involved. I hated them for this. I walked around the side of the square home, it slanted down a bit towards the road to make room for a small cellar door. I opened up the door, walked inside, and went towards the little room of canned goods from last season. I sat on a stack of potatoes and let out a sigh of relief. This fight didn’t seem as bad as most had. They were still upstairs, I heard destruction, and was pretty sure I would have to clean up the broken dishes again. I felt trapped. I hear Pa yelling, Ma screaming like a banshee, and I still can not recall the words they said. I felt that anger leaking through the floorboards into the cellar, my escape and place of safety. They were mad. It felt like two different types of mad. Pa’s felt more like he was a wounded animal on the road, and Ma’s as if she was a predator that got wounded by its prey. I stood up, went to the canned shelving, and pulled down another jar of “Hot Peppers and Weenies ‘71”. I wedged open that can and devoured the contents inside. Ma would be angry if she caught me, but she was preoccupied. By the time she got done with Pa and went away with her friend for the night she would not have noticed. Something shattered above me and then all was quiet. I left my retreat underneath the violence and walked the small distance to the spring to wash both jars out. This is when all hell broke loose in our valley sanctuary. I felt time slowed but also went so fast. A crash larger than had ever been heard by these two fighting humans came emanating from the small, mustard yellow home. It sounded like two wild animals had been suddenly trapped in the home and were breaking everything, even the unbreakables, in the home. I stood up, dropping what I was holding, and turned around to see my Pa yet again flying out of the door. This time the door was not opened, he came crashing through it and landed very solidly onto the gravel that was our driveway. When he stood I could see his pants were ripped, his shirt in his hands, face was covered in blood, and one of his eyes was not able to open. He was attempting to pull his shirt back on, but I could see some distorted coloration on his ribcage. I bolted back towards the house but stopped just five paces away from Pa when Ma stood in the doorway with a skillet in one hand, ax in another, and blood all over her dress. I would have assumed Pa was dead by the look of her, but thankfully he was already standing. Her eyes were fierce, in a rage, and she flew down the steps swinging her cast iron pan towards Pa’s head with intent. As a child, I was stunned in my spot. I had never seen this behavior. To be frank, I was scared and may have even peed myself a little. She was a demon that day, she was the devil in the body of my Ma. She looked like the evil things in the night, and the sin the preacher man warned me of in Sunday School. This confused me more because Ma loved to spend lots of time with the preacher man. Pa fled backwards on his legs and arms as he stumbled back like one of those crabs we would see at the beach when we took family vacations. Ma kept running towards him, arms swinging. She slammed him on his knee with the skillet, he howled in pain, stood up and attempted to run. I don’t recall who hit who or what happened after that. I was screaming at this point. I’m sure I was screaming words, but does an 11 year old really know what to scream when they’re afraid one of their parents is about to be brutally murdered in front of them. Ma was out to end Pa, blood lust was in her eyes. After a lot of fuzzy memories, I recall a gunshot made my body rattle. Silence fell. Birds squaked. Horses whinnied. We all looked over to see Gran standing there with her favorite shotgun. Ma jumped back from the shock, her wild eyes still glowing with passion, anger, and this focussed on me. I did not know why, I still don’t know why to this day. Gran only wanted to scare Ma, it worked, but it also scared everyone else at the same time. I don’t know where my siblings are, this I just realized. She only used her shotgun for scaring away unwanted guests and those men in suits, I suppose they were also unwanted. Ma glared at me. Gran glared at her. Pa was drunk and didn’t know how to focus on anything. Ma stood taller, turned to the left a bit, blocking Pa a bit, axe still in hand but the skillet on the ground. Her gaze turned away from me towards Gran. Gran looked at me, nodded, and raised her trusty shotgun up to Ma’s chest. “Get off my land you .....”, Gran sternly said, that last word I do not remember but I assume it was a bad word. Maybe it rhymed with switch, maybe with punt, not sure. But it worked whatever Gran said. My Ma walked off down the road, one of the men friends she stayed with had been parked down there waiting for her, and I didn’t see her for twenty years after that day. She lived within a mile of my house til I got my degree and moved away. That was the last day I ate Hot Peppers and Weenies, until today. I thought Pa would die that day. He still died, not physically, but the alcohol took him in and killed our family in a crueler way. I sit here, further from that hell than I ever hoped I would be, tasting the flavors of that cellar. I will choose to remember the happy afternoons with my Gran, the times I sat with my younger siblings in that cellar and we ate from the different jars of pickled vegetables while fights happened overhead, and the moments when the family would stay out in the night and watch the fireflies because indoors was too hot. My life is littered with bad memories, but in this moment I choose the positive ones and the moments that love did envelope us. We weren’t always afraid, we had each other, and for that I am grateful for those memories of Hot Peppers and Weenies in the cellar.


You’ve made it. After weeks of caring for her and earning her trust you’re let in. its dark, too dark, you can feel the cold empty space around you. There's a golden light coming from somewhere. You look down and find yourself radiant in warm light. However this light isn't enough to pierce the darkness. You hear commotion coming from outside. Hopefully your better half is doing his job because you have quite the journey ahead of you. You look through her eyes and see yourself standing there, soothing her, helping her. You pray the words are helping. There's a sound in the distance, somewhere in the darkness. Its crying, she's lost in here and scared. Being swallowed by the very thing she use to find comfort in. with a sigh, you start your journey, trudging through the black goo that now litters the floor, weighing you down and chilling you to the bone. However you slosh on, hoping this goo doesnt come back with you, the floors back home had just been cleaned. You let out another sigh, “I’ve got to stop being a nice guy”. There's something following you, you can feel its eyes watching you. The darkness is its home and you're invading. You can't stop now, she just opened up. You'll find her, you have to find her, there's no stopping now. No fear or self doubt can stop you. You think back to the memories that keep you strong. Childhood friends, the love you feel, your family, the moral rock you clutch so tightly. This is a journey few have walked. Therapists have tried but few have entered this plane. The crying grows louder and clearer. The sound being the only sense of direction you have. You are but an island of light in a night filled sea. You cress a ridge, at least it seems like a ridge. sliding down one side, the goo climbs to your waist but the sound is close. The black depthless substance is cold, so cold that your very soul seems chilled. The goosebumps race across your skin. But you remember why you're here and the love warms you, you keep going. That's her, that has to be her. You near the edge of an island. Its sitting perfectly above the black swamp, that very swamp that's doing a great job at numbing your thighs. Taking a step onto the sand feels good. The last bit of security that’s been holding her up. The presence in the darkness grows agitated, good. You came her to fix things and that's what you plan to do. Turning toward the direction you came from, you yell into the void. Something primal inside of you, it tells the darkness that nothing will slow this quest. The island is small and growing smaller by the second. The last structure in her life, seeping away into the darkness. Looking through her eyes again, some time has gone by. With no idea how much has passed, you continue. The big guy can handle what's going on out there. The weeping grows even louder. Turning left then right confirms that she so close that the direction is unmistakable. You continue walking until suddenly you trip. Looking up you’re met with a sad image. She's right in front of you, huddled in a fetal position. However the darkness seems to hug her. The spot next to her seems unoccupied, you sit down. Placing an arm around her, you pull her close and whisper things that only you seem to see in her. A glow starts to appear and the weeping ceases. You feel the hope that soon, this amazing person can see what you see. This goes on for awhile, giving her the confidence you were given so long ago. A faint golden glow can be seen on her skin, Its working! But something was wrong, ver very wrong. The world around us should be getting brighter. Nothing is happening, she is now matching your glow but your jobs not done. You stand and look around wondering what could possibly be next, this hasn't happened before. Then you feel it, the darkness is definitely not happy and it's coming for her. But from where? You can't see it and this is its home too. Then you feel it, coming from right in front of you. You have to protect her, this stops today. You turn and cover her with your back facing the faceless beast of the dark. It hits your back like a firehose, beating you down. As soon as it started, it was over. You find yourself standing on a tropical island, the sun beats down on you. A happy scene. You look down at her, she’s ok. Relief washes over you. The light that radiated off of you when this all started has faded but still holds strong. You lock eyes with her and she gazes back. Getting lost in those beautiful eyes is so easy. Then a pain stabs you in the chest. Your eyes fall upon her hand, wedged right into your chest. Her light grows brighter as yours dims. Before you can protest it's already too late, your skin is covered in a veil of darkness. Suddenly and violently you are thrown out of her mind and right back to yours. You're thrown into a familiar scene, a cabin and a pine forest all around you. This is your escape, then you hit the ground. Not even realizing that you had not returned here but was actually thrown here. You struggle to stand, the image around you begins to warp. The trees rotting and the cabin falling to dust. You feel the darkness and its pure joy. It knew that this would happen. It consumes all your barriers and defenses. A weighed it pushed onto you and you fall to the ground. You feel the cold goo form around you, it's getting harder to think. You look out the big guys eyes, your eyes. She's gone, but why? What had happened? Did she use me? A voice tickles your ear, “yessss”. The darkness is loving this and you cant blame it, you walked head first into that trap. The world around you grows dark. Your ambition and hope drains away. The only thing you feel now are the tears now streaming from your eyes. In the distance you see something. A dot of light, it can't be her, she used you and is gone but it is someone that hold you close in their heart. You try to warn whoever it is, to push them away. This person keeps coming though, completely dedicated to saving you like how you were not so long ago.


(WP) Kill ‘Em With Kindness People were saying that it was something like a miracle, that we’d been blessed beyond measure, when the crime rates started to drop. Religious people thought had they’d achieved The Rapture, or reached enlightenment. Our tiny town was special now, and not just for the many tasty varieties of pie. But then, it began to spread, a sickness that killed dark impulses and tore up violence by its roots in humanity. People prone to rage and violence were suddenly docile, and at first, no one could figure out why it was happening. I’d felt bad for scientists before now, but now they were overwhelmed and funding for their research was scarce. Prison wardens and nurses reported record lows as they observed their newly kind and gentle wards. It was like something out of a dream, until we realized the fallout that came from such a virus spreading throughout the global population. World peace began to spread, but as a result, it left the people affected with the inability to bear children. We should’ve known that something so drastic came with a hell of a sting at the end of it. There were some people that thought lifelong infertility was but a small price to pay for the world peace we’d all spent years working toward, but others were angry, bitter. I didn’t know how I felt about it, myself: I’d decided long ago that I didn’t want children, because the world had seemed like such an ugly place when I was growing up. But this: Some said that we’d achieved the utopia our ancestors had dreamed of eons ago. But what was the point, if the human race could no longer reproduce? I sat in the waiting room at the doctor’s, waiting for my test results. There was almost no testing that existed now that didn’t require a waiting period. I picked up a magazine and flipped through it listlessly, reading articles that were years out of date. The only noise I could hear over the ringing in my ears was the insistent, incessant *tick, tick, tick* of the clock. An eternity passed before the nurse came out, calling my last name. “Reynolds?” She called; there was no need, really; there was no one there but me. But I stood up, the magazine falling out of my lap. Before I could pick it up, she was walking down the hall, and I hurried to keep up. She led me to a small room with flowery, vintage wallpaper, and had me sit down on a bed while she took my vitals. “Dr. La Mer will be in to talk about your results in a moment.” She said, giving me a small, sympathetic smile before walking out of the room, closing the door behind her. After another short wait, the doctor in question entered the room. He was tall and thin, with long, bony hands and a gentle smile. His eyes, bright hazel, twinkled; he looked entirely too happy. “I have good news for you, Miss Reynolds.” He said, beaming at me. “Your results are negative, so you’re free and clear to have a child, if that’s what you wish.” My stomach dropped at his words. Was I a bad person for wishing that the results had been positive? Some people would kill for the chance to have a healthy child, and here I was, disappointed over it.


"Can you keep a secret?" This question gets me ALL the time. If I had a dollar for every time someone said this to me, I could retire from my bartending job and live on an uncharted island in the Pacific. It wasn't enough that "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" but the pressure of being a bartender here too? It's not for the faint of heart. Add to this, I'm not your average woman either; makes life difficult. Most of the women I work with are actually gorgeous. Me? I'm what you call "average". I'm five feet five, brownish hair, curvy and have a bit of a mouth on me. I hold my whiskey better than I hold a conversation. I give better advice in six words than most advice columnists in six paragraphs and I don't know too many people. That last one? It's by choice. I'm not a native Nevadan. I migrated from Wisconsin a year ago. I needed a change of scenery. I will say one thing, J. J., the manager here, is unexpectedly kind. He isn't that way to everyone. "Lola," "Yeah?" "How's the crowd been tonight?" "Slow. It's too hot for anything." He looked me up and down once maybe twice. "Hot's the right word. It's what, 110 out there?" "Yeah." "That uniform, Lola, why are you wearing it? It's for waitresses." "If you didn't notice, Josh, I usually waitress. We're short. Tiffany called out tonight. Her kid's sick. I have a bartender licence. I can work the bar. It's easier to replace me than replace a bartender." Josh never really thought strategically. It was one of his less than admirable qualities. "Lola, not only are you gorgeous; you're smart too." I looked at him, rolling my eyes. He's a good looking man. I freely admit that. I also freely admit that he's kinda cocky too. Jenessa, one of the waitresses, walks up to the bar. "Lola, an unsavory just called me a sweet ass. Then decided to go for gold." "Where was Tito?" "Chatting up one of the patrons." I cracked my neck, then my knuckles. Josh grabbed my shoulder. "I'm the manager, not you. Down, Feisty. I got this. Stay with Jenessa." I looked at him, then at Jenessa. "It's gonna be okay. J.J. is gonna handle this." I didn't hear much, but what I did was enough to make me realize how much Josh appreciated his female staff. "If you touch any of my staff again on my property, I personally guarantee that wherever Hoffa is; That place will be easier to find than where you end up, understand?" I could tell the ice in J.J.'s voice when dealing with Tito. "Get out. Tonight's your last night." "WHAT?! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" J.J.'s voice went quiet but I still heard him. "If you think chasing a female is more important than doing your job, go chase 'em." "Asshole." Tito said. I saw J.J. walk back into the bar area. "Jen, you okay?" "Did you mean what you said?" "Yes." J.J. replied. Jenessa threw her arms around both of us. "You're the best parents I could want! I wish my real ones were like you." I blushed slightly. J.J. smirked. "Kid, us as parents would be a sign of the apocalypse. Now, scoot. I need to talk to Lola." Jenessa laughed. "Play nice, you two." She walked away, grinning. I looked at J.J. "Parents, us? Hell, you barely look at me cross eyed and lovey dovey. I wonder what goes on in your..." That's when I felt the bristles of his five o'clock shadow on my lips. Shock, ecstasy and raw energy flew between us like an electrical current. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to kiss you into silence, Lola?" I couldn't speak. "The second you walked in the door of the club. That was it. I was done." I pressed my fingers to my mouth. "Say something, I dare you." J.J. said. After what felt like an eternity, I looked into J.J.'s chocolate eyes. "Do that again. This time, don't stop." He flashed me a sinister grin. "This might end up with a pile of clothes behind the bar, Lola. Are you ready?" "Question is, are you?" His lips descended on mine. What felt like eternity ended with a harsh cough. "Joshua James, why are you on the floor?" My body was on fire. His was solid granite... Until his mother came to deliver something. " I thought you were coming over tomorrow, Mom." "I thought you ran a respectable establishment. I guess we're both wrong. Who's this?" "This is my girlfriend, Lola." J.J.'s mother scoffed at me. "What kind of name is Lola?" "My full name is Charlotte Gaines, Ma'am. I just prefer Lola." J.J.'s mom looked at me a bit kinder after I introduced myself. "Charlotte's a much prettier name but in this city, I can see why you chose like you did. Joshua's the same. Your grandma's birthday cake; she promised to give this to you. Stay safe and for God's sake, wear protection. Las Vegas is no place to raise my grandchildren." She turned to leave. J.J. dropped his head to rest on mine. "THAT was embarrassing. I'm so sorry." I kissed J.J. "It could be worse." "How?" "We could have been naked and near completion." I never realized how sexy his laugh was until it was in my ear. "Lola, you push my buttons, Dollface." "So, where are you taking me?" "My office. I'm locking this door. You, Sweetheart, will be screaming my name. I guarantee that." I could appreciate a cocky man. Josh wasn't an exception. He was the reason why exceptions exist. In those black pants, I couldn't resist him. "Come on, Sugar." The black plush sofa felt like nothing I experienced. That feeling came second to Josh's rough lips on my neck. "You're mine. Say it, Lola." "I'm yours, Josh." The next few minutes felt like an eternity. I begged whoever that no one knocked as I felt his hand up my thigh. "Whose are you?" "Yours." "Good." I bit back a yelp as I felt his hand where no man had been since my ex husband. When I finished, he kissed my forehead. "What about you?" "Oh.. I'll get mine after work. When I leave, you're coming home with me. I have plans for you." A few days later, Jenessa looked at me. She noticed I looked different. She hid a smile. That's when J.J. walked in, wrapping an arm around my waist. "Morning, Angel. How'd you sleep?" He winked. I could feel the blush creep over my face. "Oh. My. Gawd! You.. He.. Whaaaaat?!" I looked at Jenessa. "Can you keep a secret?"


(WP) Tortures of the Damned When you get to Hell, the last thing you expect is to see your stepdad, the coolest man in the world, sitting atop its throne. “My son, at long last, has come home!” He booms, standing up to greet and embrace me. “Dad? I don’t understand. I don’t get what you’re doing here, much less why you’re--” Your father, who is really your stepfather but raised you as his own, gives a great boom of a laugh. “The King of Hell?” He finishes, smirking; his face reminds you rather unpleasantly of the cat after it ate the canary. “I was as shocked as you were, when I first got here. Now I’ve got full run of the place!” You stare at him, your jaw on the floor. Growing up, he was your biggest role model; you wanted to be just like him. He raced cars, treated your divorced mother like royalty, was always kind and firm with you. So how had he ended up here, of all places, in the afterlife? The question must show on your face, because he smiles, looking like his old self. “Oh, kiddo. There were things I did before I met you and your ma, things that I was so ashamed of that I barely even told her anything.” There’s naked vulnerability in his expression, something you’d never seen when he was alive. “But here! Let me give you a tour of the place! God, your ma would’ve loved this place, kiddo. Hotter than the damn desert on a sunny day in California.” He laughs, and you follow him, eyes sweeping across the barren, fiery landscape of Hell. Your father points to a firelit pit, thick with the stench of blood, tears, and pain. “That over there is The Pit,” He says, nodding over to it. “Fortunately, that honor is reserved for some of the worst people to ever exist.” *And I didn’t qualify,* he adds silently, his eyes narrowing to slits as he observes the tortured and the damned. The area is so dark and shadowed you can’t make out that much; the only thing you can really hear are screams and the insistent, vicious *crack, crack, crack* of the whip. You make out the silhouette of a thick and stocky man with a thinning, gray goatee and little, beady brown eyes. “Hey, Dad, isn’t that... Isn’t that...” “A certain Hollywood movie producer who used his power to hurt unsuspecting young ingenues?” Dad replies, smirking so hard that he can’t keep the wicked glee off of his face. “Oh, yes. He may have escaped punishment in the mortal world, but you can be sure that The King of Hell and his subject never forget.” He’s pleased as punch, and despite yourself, so are you. It does what’s left of your soul good to see villains getting their just desserts. “Well, Dad, you’ve done great for yourself in the afterlife. I mean, The King of Hell, that’s really something.” “And it’s all yours, kiddo. If I’m the King of Hell, then you’re its prince.


Author's Note: Hello Everybody!! So, this story is written in collaboration with my friend, Keerththan!! His works are really nice, you should surely check them out!! “It has come!” said Uriah, jumping excitedly, “Fall. The Fall.” “Yeah, we will go for apple picking now!” said Yue. “Yay, woo-hoo!” Uriah was a young boy with short black hair and black eyes. Yue, just like him, had black hair and eyes. “Take the baskets and we are going!” Yue exclaimed. They lived in a tribe in the middle of a forest. There weren’t many children of their age in the tribe. So, they spent their time together. And apple picking was their favorite. They walked through the forest path. It was covered with dead leaves and the duo seemed to enjoy walking through the path. *** Uriah picked an apple and turned it around in his hand. “These apples look different from the regular one, don’t they?” Yue looked at him suspiciously and said, “Don’t you dare to eat them before taking them back home.” “No, I ain’t eating them. I’m just saying that they look different.” “Maybe they do but does it matter?” said Yue. “Now, put it back into the basket. We need to go back now.” Uriah cleared his throat. “What?” “Can’t I take a bite of it? Just one bite, it looks so yum.” “No.” “Just one?” “No.” “Please!” “Ok, just one and it will be your fault if Ma or Papa found out about it.” “Okay!” said Uriah, washing the apple with the water from his water bottle. He looked at the apple and was about to eat it when suddenly Yue shouted, “Did you forget your manners? Thank to the God before eating the apple.” “Oh, sorry.” “Not ‘sorry’, say ‘thank you’ to the god.” “Ok, umm...” Uriah said and closed his eyes. “Thank you, God, for providing me with such beautiful nature to live in, such a supportive family to stay with and such yum apples to eat...” He ate the apple as soon as he opened his eyes. “Wow! This is really so yum! Wanna take a bite?” “No,” “Yum-yum” “Hmm... You got me. I will take a bite, just a single bite.” “Yeah, take one bite and I’m sure you won’t be able to stop yourself from eating all the apples in the basket,” Uriah said with a laugh. Yue eyed him, snatched the apple from his hand, and took a bite. “Hmm... these apples are really tasty, I’m sure Ma and Papa will love them.” “Told ya, they are different ‘because they are more yum,” Uriah said and took the basket in his hands. “Yeah, and it’s getting late now. We should go back.” So they started walking. *** Uriah was humming a melodious tune along with the birds when he suddenly stopped and said, “Don’t you think that these trees look different? Like taller?” “Oh my god, Uriah!” Yue sighed. “What is wrong with you?” “There is nothing wrong with me! These trees are really taller and bigger.” Yue had also noticed that by now. Something was wrong. They couldn’t see the top of even the smallest trees and the tiny grass was up to their waistline. Then a big, monstrous creature came in front of them. It was as big as a elephant. “What is this creature?” Uriah asked. “I don’t know.” “It looks like a mouse.” “Mouse are not that big!” “I know but trees and grass are also not that tall.” The rat hissed at them. And then suddenly, it hit them both. “We have become small, Uriah,” Yue shouted. “WHAT? HOW? What shall we do now?” Uriah asked. “RUN!” Yue yelled and grabbed Uriah’s hand. They started running and the rat started chasing them. “Drop the apples, Uriah,” Yue said. “Why?” Uriah asked. “It's chasing us because of the apples,” Yue said and Uriah dropped the apples right away. The rat stopped and started to munch on the apples. “All the apples are gone now.” “See?” said Yue, ignoring Uriah, “I told you not to eat those apples, we became small because of those apples.” “You also ate those apples.” “Yeah, but-” Yue stopped, her eyes wide open. “Look there!” She pointed to her front. “Wait...why? What now?” Uriah said and turned slowly. The antenna of the creature was very high and it was so big, almost the size of a football for the duo. The stingers of the creature looked gigantic and were just before Uriah. “I think we should run,” Yue suggested. “I THINK THE SAMEEE! But wait, I can't run, I am tired.” “What?” “Hmm... it’s just an ant, lemme speak to it,” Uriah said and approached that ant. “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING, URIAH?” Yue said but Uriah ignored her and went to the Ant. “Hello, Mr.-,” Uriah said and stretched out his hand to the large-sized ant. “Antonio. Mr. Antonio,” the ant said, “But I don’t shake hands. Thank you so much!” “Ants talk?” Yue asked, surprised. “Yeah, why won’t we?” “So, Mr. Antonio, we have a seriously big problem,” Uriah said. “We ate an apple and shrank in size, do you know how to cure us?” “Oh, this same thing has also happened to another human,” Mr. Antonio said. “Really? What happened to him then? How did he grow back to normal size?” Yue asked. “Actually, he never grew back...” “What? Why?” said Uriah. “What happened to him then?” Yue asked. “... ‘cause we killed him and the same is going to happen to you!” “WHAAAT?!” Uriah and Yue looked at each other with their mouth wide open. They were going to be killed by ants? And to put the fuel in the fire, another ant emerged from the grass and whispered to Mr. Antonio, “Sir, this boy is the one who killed our general Anterio.” “What? How dare he? Arrest him!” Mr. Antonio ordered. “Yes, sir!” Two ants put metal handcuffs on Uriah’s and Yue’s hands and started dragging them. “I told you not to play with ants. We are suffering for that now,” Yue whispered to Uriah. “Sorry, I was bored so I just took an ant with my pen-” Uriah started whispering, but was cut off by Yue, “Shut up now!” Yue and Uriah were taken into a large mud castle. “Bring them in,” Mr. Antonio said. So, Uriah and Yue were taken into the cellar of the castle. It was as dark as the deepest ocean. The guards locked them up in the cellar. “LET US OUT, YOU STUPID ANTS!!!” Uriah shouted but nobody replied to him. *** “What are we going to do now?” Uriah said. “I don't know,” Yue replied. “I think we should plan something.” “Yup, let me think of something.” “Yeah, hmm...” “Wait...ok, so, this castle is made of mud, right? That means that we can dig our way out.” “Whoo! That's a wonderful idea.” “But that won't work,” an old voice said. “Who are you?” Yue asked. “And why won’t it work?” “An old man,” said the voice, (‘ Man? ’ Yue thought) “And this castle is made of mud but underground is made of steel, which means you can't dig after a certain level,” “How do you know?” Uriah asked. “I know because I helped in building that steel platform,” “How long have you been here?” Yue asked. “For almost five years. I have tried every possible way to escape, but I failed, every time. I have lost my hope now...” replied that old ant. “Oh, don't loose your hope, we can do this together,” Yue said. But suddenly, the ground started to shake. The guards of the cellar started running here and there. “WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING HERE?” Uriah shouted. “I think it's a spider attack,” that old ant said, leaning on the cellar window. “What? What will happen now? What will they do?” Yue asked. “They are ant hunters. They have probably come to destroy this place and kill the ants. But we are safe,” the aged ant said. “Can the ants win them?” Yue asked. “Well, I don’t think so. They have never managed to win against the spiders. Many ants have died in the attack,” that old ant said. “We should save the ants,” Yue whispered to Uriah. “What? Why? They put us into this mess and you want me to save them!?” Uriah shouted back. “Shut up, Uriah! We need to save them and we will.” “Whatever,” Uriah smirked. *** “Eat this!” a soldier said and gave a plate to Uriah. Soldier ant then ran away as fast as he could. “Okay, I got an idea,” Yue said and looked at the plate. It was filled with all kinds of fruits and nuts. “What is it?” Uriah asked. “Be patient, I’ll tell you!” Yue replied and started discussing the plan with the other two. After some time of planning, Uriah and Yue started shouting, “LET US OUT! WE CAN HELP Y’ALL!” “Why are you shouting?” a guard asked, coming to them. He was knocked out in a single punch from Uriah. “Do you know where they have the keys to the cellar?” Yue asked the old Ant. “Yeah, I know. They keep it inside the spear that they have. Give that spear to me,” that old Ant said and Uriah passed the spear to him. “Aargh,” the old Ant shouted and broke open the spear. The keys felled with a small clinking sound. “Thanks!” Uriah said and opened the prison door. Uriah and Yue rushed through the palace hall and exited the sandcastle. The spiders were as big as an eagle. But Uriah and Yue knew what to do. Yue took the fruits and nuts in his hand and threw them near a tree. Within minutes, the sparrows and many other birds arrived. So, when the sparrows arrived, the spiders backed up and retreated from the ants. The sparrows started chasing the spiders and they started running haywire. “Uriah, the sparrows may target the ants, too,” Yue said. “Yeah, but we can’t do anything to that, Yue.” “Don’t be a fool, Uriah. Come with me.” So, Yue dragged Uriah to ants. They ordered them all to go to the sandcastle. All the ants followed their order and they were saved. The sparrows and the spiders cleared the place in minutes. Mr. Antonio called Uriah and Yue to his chamber. Mr. Antonio said, “You saved our ants, so you deserve a reward for that!” Uriah and Yue listened quietly to him. “So, I have decided that you can go now,” Mr. Antonio said, “And yeah, take this.” He gave them a small bottle with gold-colored liquid in it. “What is it?” Uriah asked. “It’s a potion. It will make you grow back to your normal size.” “Really? Thank you so much, Mr. Antonio,” Yue said. “You don’t need to thank me, I am the one who should thank you,” Mr. Ant said and the whole castle members waved goodbye to Uriah and Yue. And they came out into an open field. “I bet Ma and Papa would have been worried,” Yue said. “No question about that,” Uriah laughed. “So, now drink this potion.” They swallowed the golden potion and slowly started growing. “We should get back home as soon as possible,” Yue said as she was going. “Yeah,” Uriah said. *** “Where did you both go?” Ma inquired after they reached their home. “Sorry, Ma, we were lost in the jungle,” Yue said. “Oh, you should take care form next time,” Ma said. “But now you should go and take dinner.” “Okay, Ma.” Uriah and Yue grinned. “Why are you grinning now?” Ma asked. “Nothing, Ma.” So, they went to take dinner, grinning all the way. And there was only little chance for their mothers to know the reason behind their grin.


Jennie had always been inexplicably intrigued by Stephanie's natural ability to be bright and bubbly all of the time . Stephanie, without a doubt, was always the centre of attention without any effort whatsoever. No matter where she went, people flocked to her like sheep following a shepherd. Jennie however, had always been alone. This was, of course, by choice. After having been sent into foster care when her parents had passed in a car accident, and being thrown from terrible home to terrible home, Jennie had silently vowed to stay secluded from anyone and everyone so as not to get hurt again. Sure, she felt lonely sometimes, but it was better than the immeasurable black hole that had been left inside her after her parents' untimely death. Being only 9 years old at the time of the accident, she hadn't been able to fully cope with the loss of her parents, and shutting the memory out completely had seemed like a better option than having to face those feelings some 8 years later. The day that Stephanie had sat down next to Jennie at lunch, Jennie immediately got up and left, thinking that it would put an end to any attempts at contact. When Stephanie approached her at her locker later that day, Jennie was even more distraught. "You're Jennifer, right? I'm Stephanie. We went to East Elementary together." Jennie cringed at the sound of her full name. The nickname her parents had given her was the only piece of them she had kept, and having it torn away so suddenly made her stomach fold into knots and acid spill up to burn the back of her throat. "It's Jennie. Did you need something?" She tried to speak with a malicious tone, hoping to scare off any attempts Stephanie might make at continuing any form of interaction between the two. Instead, she was met with a warm smile, which only caused the acid to move from the back of her throat into her mouth. "I'm going shopping for a new dress, and I need a second opinion. C'mon, I'll have you back home before you know it." Stephanie reached her arm through Jennie's, pulling her into an inescapable tidal wave and dragging her down the hallway towards the front doors of the prison that they called high school. When they stepped outside, Jennie squinted, trying to block out the sun; adding any more light to the already blinding situation made Jennie think her head might explode. Apparently Stephanie noticed this, reaching into her purse and pulling out a pair of sunglasses and sliding them over Jennie's eyes without a word. Jennie reluctantly climbed into the front seat of Stephanie's obnoxiously pink Beetle, and thought she might throw up when Stephanie folded down the convertible roof. "It's a perfect day, can't you feel that breeze!" Jennie thought this was, in fact, the worst day she had ever lived. After a painful 20 minute drive with Stephanie singing whatever top 10 hit was on the radio, they arrived at a small boutique on the outer edge of town. "Gosh, I love this place! I've been coming here for years. Harriet, the lady who owns it, is basically my grandma. Sometimes I just come here to visit with her when I need an escape from reality, y'know?" Stephanie smiled again, looped her arm back through Jennie's and pulled her into the shop. Jennie's nostrils filled with the scent of vanilla and lavender. There were chairs set up in a corner, and a set of plush pillows in the display window at the front with books stacked neatly in a row beside them. Try as she might, Jennie couldn't bring herself to hate the boutique. The faintest hint of a smile crept across her face, which she covered in a fake cough so that Stephanie didn't see it. "Steph! So nice to see you! Oh, and you've brought a friend, what a nice surprise!" Jennie guessed that the woman must be Harriet. She was short and round, her silver hair tied into a neat bun on the top of her head. She wore a white sundress patterned with pink roses, and looked surprisingly stylish and hip for someone old enough to be Jennie's grandmother. Harriet gave Jennie a warm smile before walking to the reading nook and taking a seat. "What does she mean surprise? You're always surrounded by people, surely you don't come here alone?" Jennie tried to comprehend why Stephanie would possibly bring someone she barely even knew into her comfort place. "I usually come alone, but like I said, I needed a second opinion this time. Oh, look at this one!" Stephanie walked over to a rack and grabbed a purple gingham dress, holding it up for Jennie to see. The next day, Stephanie sat with Jennie at lunch, and Jennie reluctantly didn't chase her away. Stephanie talked about how much she was dreading her 4th period english class, and Jennie tried her best to ignore her. When the warning bell rang, Stephanie grabbed Jennie's phone and put her name and number into the contacts, telling her to keep in touch. Slowly, the days faded into weeks, and Jennie began to enjoy Stephanie's company. She still tried to pretend like she didn't care, but she grew to appreciate spending her lunches with Stephanie instead of eating alone. After a month or so, Jennie began engaging in whatever topic Stephanie happened to be on that day. Eventually, she even began initiating conversation herself. With each new day, she vowed to cut herself off from Stephanie, but only found herself drawn deeper and deeper into the whirlwind of her life. When the anniversary of her parents death rolled around, Jennie stayed home from school like she did every year. She pulled out her bike, which she used as her sole form of transportation after vowing never to get her license, and started the ride to visit her parents’ grave. She got to the cemetery, pulled out her blanket, and started filling her parents in on the new friendship that had blossomed through the past year. For the first time, she finally had something to tell them that wasn't negative. She jumped at the sound of her phone, yanked abruptly from her thoughts. She smiled as she read the message from Stephanie. Missed you at lunch today. Where are you? It isn't like you to miss class. Want to get a milkshake after I'm finished classes? Jennie smiled, feeling herself relax as she read the message. Can you meet me at the cemetery? Of course! Be there as soon as I can. As Jennie waited for Stephanie, she began to feel that black hole inside of her expanding, tearing through her body in searing waves of pain. She was thankful for Stephanie, of course, but her whole body was on fire, burning with guilt from the inside out. She had broken the most important promise she had ever made to herself. She had betrayed her parents. The more she thought about her connection with Stephanie, the more her parents seemed to fade away. She tried to picture their faces, imagine the sounds of their laughter, the warmth of their love. With each passing second, she felt the details fade away, her entire existence being taken over by pain. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All she could do was claw at her throat, desperately trying to get even a single atom of oxygen into her lungs. Right when she thought she might never recover, she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her. She sat there in silence, letting Stephanie hold her as she finally processed her parents’ death. After what felt like an eternity, Stephanie broke the silence. "Hey, talk to me. What's going on?" Jennie was hesitant to open up to Stephanie, but knew she couldn't keep herself locked away in the cage she had created for forever. Stephanie sat and listened as Jennie finally explained everything. She talked about the loss of her parents, and how she had vowed to shut herself out from everyone so that she couldn't be hurt again. She explained how she had never let herself process her grief, and how everything had come crashing down when she had gone to visit her parents at their final resting place. She explained her time in foster care, and how she had only shut down even more after being thrown from home to home. She never had a stable family, and it only reinforced her need to keep herself isolated. If she didn't allow herself to get attached, it wouldn't hurt when she was inevitably torn from her temporary home, and she would be able to move on without a second thought. "Jennie, I am so sorry you ever had to make yourself feel that way, but you deserve to be happy. Losing your parents must have been terrible, but you can't let it hold you back from living. You'll never be able to fully escape your grief, but if you let yourself live a little, I promise it will get easier." Stephanie pulled Jennie back into a tight embrace, feeling her soften up ever so slightly. "Can I ask you something?" Jennie's voice escaped her mouth as a hoarse whisper, barely audible. "Of course! Anything, anything at all." "Why did you bring me to that shop with you? That first day you sat with me at lunch, I just got up and left you, and when you came to my locker, I was awful to you, on purpose. Why did you keep coming back to me? I don't get it. If I were you, I would have run as far away from me as I possibly could." "Back when we were in elementary school, my best friend Adam and I went to the beach. Adam wanted to swim, but I didn't. He tried to get me to go with him, but I said the water was too cold. Our parents had gone to the boardwalk to get ice cream, and left us alone for a few minutes. When Adam got into the water, he got stuck in the riptide and went under. By the time I got back with our parents, it was too late. We were only 13 when it happened. For years, I blamed myself for his death. I shut everyone out and wouldn't talk to anyone. Eventually, I started to open back up, and I realized that even though Adam was lost that day, I didn't need to lose myself with him. Life goes on, and eventually I realized that maybe I should keep living for the both of us. I opened up, let people in, and I started to remember how much I enjoyed being happy. When I first noticed you in the lunch room, I didn't sit with you. But after seeing you alone in there for a week straight, I realized that you needed someone to help you remember what happiness felt like. That's why I dragged you with me to the boutique. You deserve to be happy, Jennie. Your parents may be gone, but you're not. Don't you think you deserve a chance at a good life?" Those words slowly filled the hole that had been burning inside Jennie for years. It would never truly leave her, and there were moments when it seemed to erode and expand again, but she always managed to help fill it back in. For the first time in her life, Jennie finally understood why Stephanie could be so bright and bubbly all the time, and she finally allowed herself to start being bright and bubbly too.