Whatever you do, be aware of your surroundings. Be aware of everything. Capture every motion, whether you use your brain or you phone. Capture. Every. Single. Detail. You are in a new world, you are disoriented, you don’t know where to go. Just use this guide, and you’ll be fine. I am here for some time, let’s say about three months. I have already experienced that there are no humans, as far as I know. We are in a dystopia, and your main goal is to survive. That’s why I requested you to capture everything, this can be proof later on that this world exists. Also, there are just a few animals. Only some birds and not many other species. There are so called ‘*Crytids’.* These are the monsters of this planet, and to kill them you need to use your machete and stab in its eye. They are two feet high and their eyes are on top of their heads. It’s easy visible because the head is just at the top of its body. But watch out, they are really fast, approximately they run at a speed of 18 miles per hour. The reason they can achieve such high speeds is because they run at all fours, excluding one weird limb at the back of them. It looks like a leg but is probably useless. They look just a slightly bit like a dog, so don’t mistake a Crytid with a dog. Because we have Crytids, but no dogs. The way to recognize those bastards is because your arms are going to tingle, which is an inevitable and undeniable feeling. Your surroundings will all suddenly go quiet. This is the most obvious sound a Crytid is near. So be aware of those things. Have your machete ready and prepare for a fight. In this world there are a ton of Crytids, unfortunate for us. The first encounter with such a thing is often incredibly scary. But whenever you have fought with a couple of them, they will be easier to conquer and also easier to recognize when one of them is nearby. Sorry, almost forgot to mention that they aim for your weak parts. In this case they aim for your legs. They do this so you can’t walk and thus will be an easier target for them because you won’t be bigger. When a Crytid is going to attack you, make sure to be fast with your feet. And of course your machete. The goal why you are put into this world is a mystery for me either. I don’t have a specific answer to a question so diverse. The most likely answer would be that you have been a naughty boy, a very naughty boy. Nah, jokes aside. This might’ve been a punishment because you were a bad guy in your previous world. Probably planet Earth, which was in my case. However, I have no clue why I have been banned to this planet. Perhaps God thought it might be fun for me to give me a more challenging life, in which he sure accomplished. Although I am missing my friends and family at this point. I might know how to escape this world, but I am not sure. Every. Single. Thing. Might not even be real. You simply don’t know what is and what is not. But to escape this world, I need a partner. So if you have received this letter, you know what is waiting for you. My name is Blade. When we meet you can recognize me by my red baseball hat, and black protection gear. If you can’t immediately see me, everywhere I go I put on the roof a tiny orange flag. I do this to know to which places I’ve been and which places are prohibited by me. There are, nonetheless this is a really weird world, a couple of important buildings; \- Head Building of Destruction. This used to be an office for guns. Whether it be the manufacture or testing of guns; you can name it all. It’s a big building which is approx. 30 feet high and 25 feet wide. This building is easily recognizable by its American flag at the front side. (I have no idea why the American flag but whatever). The office also has a gun painted on the roof, so from the top view you can also see it. The building overall is like a giant box, with black painted walls from the outside. It has 6 feet high windows at the front side which gives you a clear view of what is inside. I recommend if you see the Head Building of Destruction that you go inside if the coast is clear and get yourself a better battle weapon. Like a semi-automatic weapon is good but a couple of knives are great, too. It’s up to you. But keep this building in mind because there sure will be some weapons inside which can be optimal in a fight against Crytids. \- Personal Supermarket. This is just a small 40 by 40 feet supermarket which offers the essential products to survive in this world. Like water, bread, rice et cetera. This is also good to check-out when you see it. The Personal Supermarket has its name in red letters in front of a green square. It has two lampposts at the side of it, in which the electricity has already ran out. \- Crytid’s Cave. Like the name already says, this is the cave of all the Crytids. Stay at all cost, away from it. If, however, just one Crytid notices you, they all come for you. The Crytid’s cave is a really big cave on a huge hill. This hill lays in a desert and is easy noticeable from a pretty far distance. I had to run for my life one time, so I recommend you shouldn’t go there. \- Centre of Everything. This is the centre of this place, and is a hotspot for Crytids, so if you are going to this place, make sure you have your machete ready. Otherwise, don’t go to this place if you are not ready to battle. I have been to here one time, and it’s pretty impressive, so you’d be better off to stay away. \- The Point. This is the place where you woke up. It’s a meeting point for all the people that escaped this place and is easy visible because it has a sign which says; “This is where the end has started”. I know this, because people have led me to it, but I couldn’t go yet. This is an important place to meet someone, so keep that in mind. Hopefully this guide helped you a bit, if you find this letter, meet me tomorrow at The Point. Right when the sun rises. You can recognize me by my red baseball hat and black protection gear. I’ll wait for you. Regards, Blade.  ‘Wow’ I said, ‘That was an intense guide and invitation to this world!’. I sighed, ‘But I am really curious who this Blade guy is, he seems cool.’ I said to myself. Right as I wanted to explore my surroundings a bit, my arm began tingling. I remember what Blade said; *The way to recognize those bastards is because your arms are going to tingle, which is an inevitable and undeniable feeling.* So I knew there was a Crytid lurking at me. I quickly searched for my machete, which was in my backpack next to me. I got it and silently waited for it. Within a split second it sprinted to me. I was scared but aimed for the eye, it aimed for my leg. I stabbed as hard as I could and I was unbelievably scared. But after one stab in its eye, it fell down on the ground, obviously dead. ‘Pfew, that was close and scary’, I said, ‘but oh man, it felt so good.’ With my machete in my pocket and the disoriented feeling fading away, I started to explore my surroundings a bit, waiting for the sun to go under and rise again, so I could meet Blade.


I can’t even lie; my first thought when I saw him was that he was extremely cute, unlike a lot of the guys in my dumpy hometown. I knew he had a girlfriend at the time, so I forced that train of thought to shut down. But unfortunately, that’s not how life works out, especially not for me. We met at a mutual friend’s house when I had decided to try my hand at Dungeons and Dragons. Ezekiel had walked in, and I had to crane my neck back to actually look at him. After an extremely short conversation, I knew that he was intelligent, funny, and an extreme procrastinator. As he started the session with almost an hour of prologue, I saw just how much effort he placed into his passion projects. I had to leave early that day, but we had exchanged contact information so that if I had any questions, I could ask. He had been on online school during the preceding year, but he rejoined public school. Ezekiel texted me to ask about our school’s dress code, and we had a very awkward conversation. When school started, we found that we had a few classes together. Looking back, I realize what a nightmare we must have been for teachers; once the ice had broken, we talked constantly, both in person and online. When his schedule had gotten reformed after a few mishaps with credit transfers, we had even more classes together. And then his long-distance girlfriend dumped him. Ezekiel was understandably upset, so me and my soft heart tried to cheer him up. He bounced back after a little while, and one day in study hall, he informed me of his afterschool plans; Ezekiel was going to ask out my best friend, Sadie. Thus, began the aching slow descent. My first thought was that Sadie would turn him down. She liked someone else, only saw Ezekiel as a friend, and was still messed up from her failed relationship just months ago. I tried to imagine it anyway, and my stomach churned a bit. But I didn’t tell him that; I simply wished him luck, and then went back to writing my essay before the teacher could yell at us. Sadie turned him down, and I ended up having to explain why I had called it. Midterms leapt upon us, and amidst all the frantic cramming, Ezekiel and I planned for a whole group of our friends to hang out when we were all free. Out in the woods, we had a small bonfire, and Ezekiel and I ended up having to work hard to get that stupid fire going. The matches he always carried around were simply garbage, and we wasted half an hour trying to get those horrible things to light. In the end, a friend had to bring a lighter up. Ezekiel and I gathered the wood and kept the fire going since we both knew how to actually keep the flames alive. When the end of the school day came around, I had to leave to catch the bus, and to my surprise, Ezekiel volunteered to walk with the group that was heading back. He lived in town and could just walk, but I just put it down as the cold that was sending him. Our group ended up arriving about twenty minutes early, so we hung around the back of the school. Disclaimer: we are not thugs, that’s simply where the buses parked. Ezekiel seemed like he was dealing with some deep internal thoughts, so I chatted with some other friends. He walked up and asked to speak with me alone, hands nervously twitching as he did. Curious as to what he wanted, I agreed. We stepped away from the group, but when he started talking, someone walked over, and he clammed up. His attention slid to them, and although subtle, his movements became increasingly aggravated. I kept trying to reclaim his attention, but he clearly didn’t want to speak to me with an audience. After a few minutes, everyone more or less drifted away. Ezekiel finally responded to my prompting and asked me out. I was a tad shell shocked, but I said yes. We were an oddly perfect match. Our intelligence and creativity spurred the other person’s on, and we laughed easily. We pushed each other to be better and leapt onto the opportunity to help whenever the workload was a bit much. We played off our differences nicely, and our similarities made us all the closer. Our relationship was occasionally a tad spicy, but overall, we were very sweet, if a bit excessive on public displays of affection. Where our dates were far and few between, our conversations were certainly not. But after two and a half months, Ezekiel lost interest. He lied for an additional two weeks, keeping up the appearance of a loving boyfriend so that my first real relationship would be at least three months. The day after our three-month anniversary, he broke up with me. I was crushed. I had loved this boy with my entire heart, and I was so sure he felt the same. I struggled to seem normal around him for the next few days of school. Luckily for me, Easter break was that weekend. Then again, I couldn’t seem to move past all his lies. It was one thing that he had lost interest, I told myself, but another thing entirely that he had lied. I wrote out note after note, telling him that I couldn’t decide if I hated him or not, but honestly, I knew that I was simply struggling to move on. But these kinds of stories are a dime a dozen, aren’t they? A shy, quiet girl falls for the popular hot guy, and they go out for a bit before he ditches her. Hallmark, at least, redeems the guy, and the couple gets back together in the end. It never feels like a dime a dozen story when it’s your turn to play the fool though. I silently watched, two weeks post break up, as Ezekiel was thrust into a situation where two girls he had no particular interest in were planning to ask him out. I said nothing as he tossed an apologetic glance toward me before admitting that there was technically nothing holding him back. I quietly ate my lunch as he had a lengthy discussion with the friend who had warned him about which of the two girls he was going to pick. The classes we had together became a curse, and he was on my mind even when we were apart. I hated myself for it, and my self-esteem reached an all-time new low. But I was too stubborn to tell him that I was hurting, preferring to internalize all the pain I was in. I watched as he started going out with Maria. Although he swore to not do anything with her around me, much of our study halls were spent with me studiously ignoring the new couple as they spent the entire time flirting. Despite myself, I ended up talking to them both and even became good friends with Maria. I rearranged my finals schedule so that I would only have one test with Ezekiel and conveniently could not hang out. Summer began, and I was still stuck in a perpetual loop of missing him and violently trying to push him away. I tossed myself into my summer job, enjoying my time with a friend that I had not seen since the previous year. I watched as she texted him on my phone, drunk and flirting, and how he just played games with her. I saw when he broke up with Maria and started dating Kate before the week was over. Several of my friends texted me once they heard, pointing out how ridiculously fast he had gotten a new girlfriend. I felt like I was dangling over a pit with only a few threads to hold onto, but I didn’t say a word to Ezekiel. The few times I saw him over the summer were horrible. He was very obviously trying very hard not to cause me any more pain, but everyone else would ask him about his lady friend. Because of course I couldn’t live without any reminders. But I never said a word. After about two months, Ezekiel and Kate broke up. Within a week, he was dating Ella. He swore up and down that Ella was actually his soul mate, that their relationship was perfect, and a thousand other glowing reviews of her. I found it funny, as I explained to Sadie, that he had said so many of the same things about me when we had been dating. School started again, and mercifully, Ezekiel and I only had a few classes together. I found it was slowly getting easier to talk to him, but there were still way too many times that I felt my stomach trying to consume my soul when I was around him. Ezekiel learned from some of his coworkers that his first girlfriend had been cheating on him and was doing drugs and smoking. He told me that he was glad we were still on speaking terms. Life calmed down slightly as we all struggled under the weight of schoolwork. My time was consumed by drama club, his by his job and newest girlfriend. So naturally, everything began to crumble. Because that’s just how life works, I guess. Ezekiel was fired and threatened with a lawsuit so that he couldn’t rally the workers together to protest the working conditions. His girlfriend slammed into a depressive episode at the same time, and Ezekiel was clearly hopeless. History repeats itself unless we are smart enough to learn from our mistakes. I clearly am quite stupid. I took pity on my ex, hanging out with him and texting him whenever I could to try to cheer him up, but all he wanted was attention from his girlfriend. Under the weight of his lawsuit, her absence, a few family issues, and schoolwork, he began to crack and fall apart. Me and my soft heart hastily attempted to apply funny duct tape to each crack, but it did very little to help. I was falling apart too, but where a few people tried to patch up Ezekiel, no one tried to help me. I was struggling to lighten my ex’s mood, help a friend with her physics work, help another friend with girl problems, help yet another friend with guy problems, keep up with my own schoolwork and the drama club, as well still trying to get over Ezekiel. But I prioritized everyone else, telling myself to suck it up and deal with this pain. Normalize it so that I can keep going. Unsurprisingly, that didn’t actually work. Ella dumped Ezekiel. I helped him pick up the pieces of his heart and listened patiently as he swore to stop dating people. His first girlfriend started texting him again. Ezekiel was extremely wary, but he consented to talking to her. It’s only polite, he claimed, adding that he may finally get the closure that he never had. Well, I couldn’t argue with that. Boy, do I wish I had. Because next thing I know, he’s telling me that he is going to the winter formal with her, and they are going to start officially dating again. But he finally seemed happy. I made a joke about Maria to Ezekiel. Far from being amused, he asked if I knew if she was dating Eric. Completely sidetracked, I asked both Eric and Maria if it was true. They said yes, and I reported the news to Ezekiel. He wasn’t happy for them; on the contrary, he was angry. He claimed that Eric had ended up talking Maria into breaking up with him. I immediately told Ezekiel to not say anything to Eric; they were friends, and it would only start more unnecessary drama when we were all so close to graduating. He fell asleep during my scolding, and my anxiety got the better of me. I snapped, cursing him out and telling him to just do whatever he pleased, because he clearly didn’t care for anything that I said. It was a rather impressive rant, if I do say so myself. When he finally read it, there was no response. So of course, like the noble and brave soul I am, I avoided him the next day until it was impossible to do so. We had a lengthy discussion about why I had said all that, and he apologized for worrying me. Relative peace was restored. The drama club put forth a fantastic play. I felt like I could finally talk to Ezekiel like I would any other guy friend. Naturally, there was one more wrench that fate threw at my head. I noticed that whenever I sent him funny stories and jokes, he would have an underwhelming response. And even those lackluster responses faded, until he stopped replying entirely at times. It was extremely out of character for Ezekiel; he was very attached to his phone and answered almost immediately. The only times he didn’t were when he was asleep, working, or answering someone else first. But I didn’t question it; I just assumed he was getting tired of me. Which did not make sense because he talked to me the same way he always had whenever we were in person. One day in study hall, his girlfriend texted him while we were talking. His eyes widened slightly, and he announced that she didn’t like me because of how often I texted him. That she thought I was still “attached” to him. I gave her words serious thought and wrote yet another note to Ezekiel. On it, I explained that I was still attached, but I had finally realized that it was not romantic anymore. And it was so liberating to finally come to that conclusion that I have actually been able to talk to my ex like a normal person. It only took the better part of an entire year, but hey, better late than never. When I mentioned this to my other friends, amused, they offered a plethora of explanations. That because she was a cheater, she was looking for any signs that he was cheating on her, that she felt threatened by our friendship, or even that she felt I was just useless. I typically would have said something to Ezekiel, but I find myself unable to. If she is what makes him happy, why should I make him decide if he wants to cut me out of his life entirely for her sake? Besides, I know what kind of reaction I would get from her. I would be that ex that is trying to get him back or that is slandering the current girlfriend because I disapprove. And it is just not worth all that extra drama in my life. So, long story short, I dated a hot guy, and it only led to more pain than it was worth. Oh, how much easier it would have been if I had never loved him! But that is not how the heart works. So here I remain in this moronic dance of suppressing my opinions and minimizing communication with Ezekiel to reduce unnecessary drama. Will I escape? Probably not. Unless we completely stop talking after graduation or until he breaks up with his girlfriend, there’s no ladder I can climb to haul myself out of this ridiculous pit that is somehow my life. Which means, lucky me, I have two more months of semi forced conversation with who I once thought was the love of my life.


Not really sure how to classify this one so I just went with sci fi because it has a few elements.  ***And the Drums Rattled On***  And the drums rattled on. Bells and pots and pans. The hot sun beats down against the back of your neck. Like the wooden spoon banging against the frying pan in our new daily sonic communion, you are the sun’s percussion. You inhale the hot stale air that has collected underneath your mask. A bubble of sweat is gathering below your nose and itching persistently, but you are compelled to accept the sensation because you can’t touch your face. The drums rattle on.  Now. The moon grins sardonically. You hide from its light in the dark corner of your room. It looks in through your window and calls out your name, your eyes meet; haunted unknowable cold terror. In the moon’s eyes you see things that were never meant for a human mind to comprehend. You forget your name. The drums rattle on.  You wake up. The moon’s terror lingers cold on your spine. You still can’t remember your name. You get up and flick the light switch on your wall. It has no effect. You wander through hallways and cabinets in the dark. The drums rattle on.  You wake up again. You were asleep on the couch. The room is dimly lit. A medium steel pot falls violently, or is thrown from the top of the stairs and bangs loudly at the bottom of the steps. No one is awake. You remember that you forgot your name. It stays forgotten. You experience a tense ache in your chest. The drums rattle on.  You wake up again. You are in a room full of clowns. They do not look at you. You look out the window. The sky is falling. It is extraordinarily beautiful, the world is filled with new colour. The clowns continue to make preparations for the celebration. They are busy making commemoratory paperclip necklaces, assembly line style. There is a handheld mirror on the table next to you. You pick it up and make eye contact with yourself. You don’t remember your name but you start to remember your life. You feel lost. You cry out in anguish. The clowns freeze. They slowly turn and make eye contact with you. Their eyes are huge, hundreds of kilometres wide, filled with craters and volcanoes. You feel the pressure of their immense gravity. The moon is no longer laughing. The moon is crying. You can’t remember your name. The sky continues to fall, the room is filled with bright indigo light. You sob alongside the moon intensely. You are falling through a series of watery caves carved out in contradictory non euclidian patterns. The sky finishes falling. Your cave is pitch black. You do not have eyes. The drums rattle on.  You wake up. You do not remember your name. You think about your childhood. Playing in the laneway behind your house. Your street, shielded in a ceiling of octogenarian trees. Two alleys on either side, plants growing out of cracks in the jagged concrete. It was a far encompassing universe with all the plasticity that entails to the perceptions of your young mind. You and your friends sit on skateboards and ride down a slight slope in the laneway road, filled with exhilaration, convinced it is a steep and dangerous hill. You immerse yourselves in your intricate fantasy game that mostly involves play-fighting each other with tall sticks that have had all the bark picked off. You eat from the gardens of your front and back yards, sour berry eating contests, chives and lemon balm. In the summer you fill up plastic jars with dirt and bugs. One year a group of kids climbed dangerously up the fence to the top of the mulberry tree. The mulberry’s were blended up and made into popsicles that were rather disappointing, but the mysticism of childhood is such that the disappointment was very quickly forgotten.  You hear three knocks on the door of your room. *Thump Thump Thump.* You don’t answer. Three more knocks. *Thump Thump Thump.* You get up, walk over and open it. It is the moon, wearing dark Ray-band glasses. “How are you feeling” You don’t know what to say. “Uh...” The moon smiles, takes off its glasses, looks you in the eye and says: “I’m dreaming...This dream I’m having is a lucid dream, a waking dream. You are a figment of my unconscious.. A character of my mind.” You feel like someone is pouring warm water and lemon juice on your scalp; prickly, concise, and unrelenting. Your perception of your own physicality takes on an irrational uncanny valley characteristic; like your head is where your foot is supposed to be and your foot is where your head is supposed to be. “What I’m wondering about” Says the Moon, “is do you have your own sentience or do you just exist within my mind?” You regard the moon, the moon regards you back. Neither of you know the answer. You slowly start to feel a sense of warmth and solidarity growing out of your mutual existential confusion and anxiety. This eventually leads you to smile and embrace. The drums rattle on.  **\*\*\*\*\*\***  The sky has fallen. In the scattered remains of Earth’s death, the Moon sits alone.  The clowns living on the moon have a machine that converts all known physical matter into paperclips. You can hear the sounds of screaming clowns echoing throughout the halls, hallways, corridors, vents, windows, and doorways of their town as their bones continue to be crushed efficiently in the paperclip mechanism.  A planned exhibition to Venus for the purposes of converting all of it’s material into the paperclip mechanism is being constantly delayed as the clowns planning it continue to have their bodies ground up in the cogs of the paperclip machine.  A conference is called in 4 days time. 4 days pass. The conference convenes. Reduced price on green clown wigs. Sarcastic calculator in the centre of the conference beams vaguely with contentment. The Cogs roll and roll. The clowns scream with pride of their fantastic machine. The conference adjourns. The drums rattle on.  **\*\*\*\*\*\***  You wake up. You have an email. The jumbled text is incomprehensible. Words seem to jump off the page before you can make them out. The characters are moving around and interposing on top of each other in a contradictory and irrational manner, the “S” and the “A” are both in the same place, but at the same time they are both somewhere else. The birds chirp loudly outside your window. It’s that time of day, the drums start again; pots and pans, gongs and whistles, improvised percussion, and clapping. It naturally mixes with the divine rhythm of the birds singing and forms a universe unto itself, a byzantine sonic ecology. You doze off. The sonic tapestry becomes aware of itself, and circles inward toward you like a tornado, or a dog chasing its tail. You allow the tapestry to eat away at your conception of ego. It turns and turns, slowly, chipping away bit by bit. The distinction between you and the tapestry becomes increasingly blurred. Eventually it has swept you away. You buzz peacefully alongside the sentient rhythm. You have no eyes. You have no name. You are alive and the drums rattle on.


This is it. This is the moment that I end my own life. I’m on the rooftop and I think I’m ready. People are going to say that they had no idea. That they never would have guessed that I would do something like this. That might be true, if they’d ever truly talked to me before or really knew me. I’ve had depression for a long time but nobody seemed to notice. Maybe they did and I didn’t notice. That doesn’t matter now. Climbing up onto the ledge, I stare down into where my final moments will be. People will most likely say it was unplanned since I didn’t leave a note or anything and for the most part it’s true. All I did was research a couple of buildings with rooftop access that were high enough for my needs. Had to be sure the fall would kill me. No paralysed from the neck down, waist down or going into a coma for me. No I expect to be dead on arrival with that piece of pavement down there. It’s early morning so there’s hardly anyone except the odd car driving by. Hopefully I don’t traumatise anyone. Well this is it. I try to step off then try to jump but I stop myself every time. I’ve been up here too long. I’m too calm and my brain is hardwired to survive. I try to remember all the things that have led up to this decision here. Suddenly I can hear someone talking. I look around and notice that there’s a man with his back to me on the opposite side of the rooftop. “In life and death I will continue to be clear sighted and know the truth. That there is no point. The days of misery and mediocrity in this life are no more. So suck it world” he said. I shout over “hey!” “ahh” he jumps back startled then looks over at me, running his eyes up and down assessing me. “I’m already committed to this, you can’t stop me” he says turning back around getting ready to jump. “I don’t want to stop you. I’m here for the same reason” I call over. He turns back to face me a second time then charges at me full speed, his eyes flashing angrily. I wonder if he’s going to push me over so he doesn’t have to listen to me talk. He stops just short of me and I take a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark suit and looks to be only a year or so older than me. He looks at me and simply says “no” as if in answer to some unspoken question. I wait for him to elaborate. Both of us standing there patiently waiting for one to understand the other. The guy runs out of patience quickly “didn’t you hear me, get out of here!” “Ok just give me second” I said turning back round ready to jump. “No!” he shouts grabbing my arm and pulling me back off the ledge. “This is my spot ok go find somewhere else to die” he says shoving me away. “What no way I was here first” I say outraged. “It doesn’t matter. This has been my spot for over a week and I’m not sharing.” “why does it even matter we’re both going to be dead” I say incredulously. “Of course it matters. I don’t want people thinking we’re part of some gay suicide pact!” “ok i’ll pin a note to myself saying ‘I don’t know this corpse’ He shakes his head “that won’t work people will just think your ashamed of it. You have to find another rooftop” “I was here first you have to find another rooftop” “No this is my spot” “why does it even matter?” He grabs my arm and pull me over to where I first saw him. “look down there” he said. I look down and just see the pavement and road. “no no over there” he says pointing to across the road to a gym where the walls are just glass windows. “All those flabby house mums who just want to have sex again are going to see some reality fall in front of them when I go splat” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing “that’s not a reason to kill yourself!” He smiles as if he expected me to say that. “what I’m about to do is gonna stay with them for the rest of their lives. I’ll have left a permanent mark on their psyches.” Oh god, he's insane. I mean I guess you have to be to kill yourself but still. "Ok fine this is a good location for you thats great but I was here first and I just want to get it over with. So move" I said. "no" "fine" I say and head off to another rooftop edge. He chases after me and jumps in front of me. "ok ok. Look how about we play for it?" He asks and at this point I just want him to leave as fast as possible. "What did you have in mind?" I asked. “Got any change? We could flip for it" "No I didn't think I'd need change in the afterlife" I said sarcastically. "so you think there's an afterlife?" "yes... no, look what else have you got" "rock paper scissors.” I looked into the eyes of a man who was going to duel me with rock paper scissors with the grand prize of death to the winner and I said yes to that insanity. "this is crazy" I say getting my hand out ready. "ok 1... 2 .... 3" "wait your supposed to go after 3" "What are you talking about everyone knows you go on 3" he says irritably. "It's one two three and then you go" I explained. "fine we'll do it your way. ok 1 2 3 go, ha rock beats paper" "ok now your just fucking with me right?" "I had rock you had paper so I win" he said. "Paper covers rock" "and rock smashes through paper" he said triumphantly. "what... no it's... fuck its exhausting talking to you" He smiled "off you go now it’s killing time" and then louder he shouted "Dead man walking" as he approached the edge. I hadn't moved, in fact I was actively watching him transfixed by a morbid curiosity. He soon noticed this too and said "I thought you were leaving." "don't worry I'm not going to jump. You know gay suicide pact thing and all" His eyes narrowed "why don't you just find another rooftop" "that’s what I'm going to do" I said surprised "no you said you weren't going to jump. At all." "Of course I'm going to do it why else would I be up here?" "maybe originally you were going to but now you seem... unsure" "I guess doing all this shit with you. I mean if I really wanted to end my own life I'd have just ignored you to begin with and just did it" I said. He nodded as if he understood "maybe I'm just depressed" I offered. "maybe. Well two audience members are better than one" "now I’m the confused one" "you've been the confused one this whole time" he joked. I ignore it and press on "who's the other audience member" I ask wipingthe smile off of his face. He turns round back to facing the ledge "it doesn't matter" I get up onto the ledge with him and follow his line of site back to that gym. I see one woman in her mid forties exercising vigoursly on a stationary bike. "Is that your mum?" "yep" "Jesus, you shouldn't kill yourself because you hate your mum." "what would you know. You said it yourself your just depressed" he snarled "aren't you? Aren't you angry and sad all the time like me?" "You see that post there?" he said pointing next to the gym. I nodded "that's where I'd stand when I was little and mum had to exercise" "so what you had to wait outside for an hour every once in a while when you were little?" "It might have been that way a few times but mostly she'd find some guy and she'd disappear for the rest of the night and if she came back and I wasn't right where she left me at that post as soon as we got home she'd just start hitting me saying things like she wished she'd bought condoms that week." I didn't know what to say to that. "sometimes if the guy came home with her she'd have him do it for her while she got ready in the bedroom" Ok now I knew what to say "so what?" his eyes flashed angrily "didn't you hear a word I said" "yeah and you know what fuck her" "what?" "fuck her. don't let that bitch win. You don't have to take that shit any more. just walk away from her. Fuck her" He shook his head "I've left before and it always ends with her calling the police or me running out of money" "your what 17?" He nodded "so you graduate in like 6 months then. You only need to hold out till then" "I got kicked out. For fighting." I smiled "that's what other schools are for" I could see that he starting to come around "I've got nowhere to go though" "6 months will go by pretty quickly" I said. He shook his head firmly and lifted up shirt to reveal a large bruise running down his side. "Her latest boyfriend. I can't stay there" "You could stay with me then. All I know is you shouldn't kill yourself because of her. Fuck her now you say it" "Fuck her" "louder" "FUCK HER!" we both laughed headed back off of the edge towards the door "hang on one sec" I said. I went back over to that edge and peered over. If this were film or something all of our problems would be solved by now. But it isn't and they’re not. That guy who was abused as a kid who I think I can call a friend now after nearly dying with him was still abused and I'm still well... me. I don't want dive into my issues now it’s not a competition. I look back and the roof’s empty. Panic sets in. Did I just hallucinate him? Did this fucking cliché really just happen to me where the apparition shows the man the truth thus saving him from himself. Am I schizophrenic now? Maybe I should ju... “hey you coming?” he pops his head out from behind the door. Immediately relieved “yeah let’s go” “Christ your slow” he mumbles as we head down the steps.


You'll think this is plain corny and would want to gorge your throat out and I won't blame you but hear me out. You waltz into a party, skin all over the place and I mean it. Girls throwing their bums on stranger's members, their thighs and cleavage on display, sensualizing there every move. Perfumes of every scent invade your nostrils and make its route straight into the mind, into this one section of the brain that causes individuals to lose all mental abilities and make them crave a person, paying no mind whether they got bunny teeth or droopy lids. Early in my twenties, I can still vividly remember Mister Harry during one scorching afternoon of Sex Ed class explaining that segment functions, the hypothalamus, to bunches of lascivious teenagers. Old Missy was squirming in her seat right in the back, blond strands framing her lovely features, I’ll bet all my liquor that it had to do with Jay's rugged-looking hand. That bastard... You turn some corners and pick a green jug from a cooler and them scanty hair on your nape stands up, the darn house ain't heated and now you can't feel your fingers. You look around, and naturally, it's Sodom and Gomorrah which is expected, it's a New Year's Eve party and people lose all brain function throughout. The air is dense, seems almost electrified. You find a few comrades and catch up. Their lives are as shit as yours and you're glad, patting their forelimbs to comfort them-i’m-too-cool-to-shave bums. Smokes are blown into your face and your blood boils but you grit your teeth and take another sip, i'll-bred sons of a.... Bunches of sniff, sniff are coming from the shadowed corners, exhibits are being given for free on a pool table and a dramatized play is being performed in the living room, punches flies and drops of blood adds color to the expensive cedarwood. And you lie to yourself that you love it. It's a paradise here, ain’t a place you rather be. This woman marches towards you, hands on her hips and chin held high, your malachite orbs are locked on her dainty breast, she wraps you in a blizzard of cotton candy and drags her hands over your body, starting from your neck and you held your breath, tightening your eyes and swallowing down the acrid vomit. Lady strokes your chest and biceps and tiptoes her locked-set lips to your upright chin, bestowing a wet kiss. You bury your face in her hair and inhale the scent of her shampoo, coconuts. She straightens your head, her acrylic nails stab delicately at your neck as her cold slender finger caresses the skin. She bats her cartoons lashes and you knock your lips firmly onto hers tasting the women’s dawn-tinted lipstick, sucking it clean off and exploring her warm mouth. Having enough you sever the heated embrace, her lips are left swollen and throabing but you pay no notice, you've lowered and spat it all off near her crimson corset heels, wiping your mouth in disdain. Her drew on brow furrows, causing wrinkles on her nose as she gives you a sparkly finger and walks away balancing her assets. You rotate your eyes and settle against the wall, shivers spread throughout your body, the coldness pierces your half unbutton faded blue Oxford shirt. Hands in pockets you rummage for a cigar and awaits the next girl to come to you. Having another twenty-five years or so of women throwing themselves at your feet without lifting a finger, you intend to enjoy it to the fullest. Sticking the slender roll between your lips you reach for a messy counter with scattered liquor, bunches of it dripping on the hardwood kitchen floor. You grasp whichever seems the strongest and downed it in one huge gulp, the burning sensation spreads in your mouth and down the windpipe and you feel alive. You screech profanities, boosting your arm up putting the liquor on display, everyone copies you and it’s ensued with applauses. You take another great gulp and you swear that instant you felt your heart bleed and your lungs shut and it wasn't due to the booze. You shake it off and test your limits taking on another four or five bottles, certain to meet the next day with your nose flaring in a dumpster. The room stank and the voices were gonna burst your brain any seconds now. Everything being too twisted and ugly you bulldoze through the sea of people, elbowing whoever stood on your way and steps unto the patio in relieve, you inhale but it makes your mind spin, and your ribs ache. Your stomach thunders and you retched up of a thick stream of vomit in a flower pot. Your choking and avidly coughing, eyeballs are bulging and turning red and your knuckles are drained of blood from holding onto the steel railings so darn hard. This is it you tell yourself I'm out of here. I'll give the cheating bastard a call and accepts the job at his god-forsaken company. Mom will bounce with joy over the thought of her son living like them pitied dull-minded characters, you repeated that lie to yourself over and over again. You hear a giggle, it is lengthy and warm and irritates the skin oughta you. With a thorny voice, you mustered "Does my pain amuses you?" The volumes rose and tenderly stream over you dialing down the frantic battering of savage boar going mad in your head "Quite actually" You exempt to twist your head to see which boorish person...and another set of puke down the pot. "You're all right?" a faint tone of amusement linger in her voice "So now you care" you scrub your teeth and lips with your tongue and spits, using your sleeve as a cloth. "I just don't want the plants to be overwatered" A chuckle burst from your sore mouth and takes you aback, staring into the vomit a sudden weariness slumps you. You march towards the lonesome figure in the far end of the patio and sat facing the women who had her back rested against the railings while you establish yourself by the wall. She throws you a bottle which you coarsely catch and take pleasure as the liquid clears out your mind and rejuvenating your organs back to life. "I have never experienced that before" you say, putting the bottle down. She raises an eyebrow. "Being given a water bottle at a party" you explained. She smiles, those warm smiles people rarely give. It was tender and sweet which was queer because she wasn't attractive. She wasn't unpleasant to look at but has clearly not been elected prom queen. A dimly lit lamp lighten your side of the patio while the rest was coated in darkness. The sounds from the house were muffled and the numberless stars shone bright, the wind seems to stand still while the leaden clouds came and went by the full moon who hang detailed and brilliant. You felt like spitting on it. "I kind of want to trample on the moon" You turn your sight to her in wonder, she was gazing at the sky. "Bad day?" She fixes her nectar brown eyes on you and gives a tight nod. "Same" "Seems like it, I was a witness" You smirk as you question how she was able to do it. It was a chilly night but as her rosy lips extend into a beguiling smile, made only to you, it gave way to the same feeling as being sheltered in blankets. You both sat on the austere concrete in silent, none passing meaningless words. You stare at her, her face was slightly curved, resting on the railing, broadcasting the translucent skin of her neck and it’s thin cerulean veins. Her eyes were set on heaven and her lashes glisten under the yellow torch. The longer you watched her, the more she seemed beautiful and you felt like punching yourself because this only happens in movies. She parted her lips "You're an asshole you know," Startled, "Why is that?" She stayed silent for so long, it seemed she was not going to answer "I saw what you did to my friend" You find yourself scouring your mind for any memories that could relate to what she was speaking about, finding none. With a sigh "The bond girl who you kiss and spit right after" "Oh!" you crack your knuckles "Well...Umm" She turns away from the endless sky and faces you, bursting in a peal of gentle laughter. "You don't seem like someone who gets tie-tongue" And she's right, you always have a response, nasty as it may be. You swallow and lose yourself in her eyes, the curves of its shape and the mellowness surrounding it. Her cheeks were flushed to the tip of her nose. "Are you cold?" "Well..." she rubs her hands "It's a bit cool it's all" By the time you thought of how idiotic you might look, you had opened up your arms. She stares and you wouldn't blame her if she made her way through the french window and out of the Mediterranean house and mocks you to her friends, the thought dwindle your heart and cut your breath short. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, it is a sunless evening back in sweet old hometown and the sky, through a cracked window is threatening to pour. Your lips are slit and red drip down your chin, it burns and the blood vessels of your eyes has been jagged, the overlying skin is discolored and is slowly turning into a bleak purple, your ears reverberate with your father's voice as he twists himself in sick laughter. The unforeseen memory is replaced by a strain of laughter as the women draw close and embrace you. Her hands joining behind your sturdy back, making you break the promise of never having butterflies because of old Missy. She hid her face on your chest and you see her ears turning red. Your arms surround and held her, she had a petite figure and fitted quite well in your hands, you ran your crooked finger through her chestnut hair and gawked over the softness. This was disarming and you question the universe in complete puzzlement. "You make me feel safe," she whispers, as she causes friction on your chest with her jowl. You swallow and hope along with the saliva went down your tongue as not to reply anything stupid. "You make me feel warm" the words brushes against her face as your heart races. She opens her eyes and you feel bath in honey, if they are truly a reflection of the soul, you’ll bet all your money that her’s is pure. Softly she exhales and sinks into you as your grip tightens. It was in these manners that you pass the night. Before the birds begin there twittering and the city awakens and went on with it’s mundane day to day activities, she had left, leaving behind the sensation of a soft kiss on your cheek and the fading warmth on the curves of your scalene were for a few minutes she had rested her forehead as her hands held onto both sides of your waist, knowing well you were conscious as she didn’t care for subtly. You didn't dare to pursue her and ask for a number or an email or anything that might make you see or hear that enchanting laugh of hers again. You somehow understood that she has the potential to truly break your heart, you went through it once and the result? You stood on the edge of a cliff, waves crashing on colossal sharp-pointed rocks, tasting the salty breeze in your throat. And you somewhat knew that she would be more detrimental than all the women you ever been with. She made it painfully obvious that she did not want to remain in contact also and you guessed her heart was damaged as well. You open your eyes and face the rising sun, it’s rays lands on you through the iron rails as her footsteps fade, serene and mellow. You let out a sigh as you run your fingers through your hair, gripping it, feeling so darn cold again. Hardening your jaw tight and shaken with the emotions that had once laid dormant, you inhale her fleeing rosemary scent. You sit still and let her slip through your fingers, both of you being too damn broken already.


Grace was trapped in the dinghy, bleeding all over the floor. The Little River Market was in full swing around her. Supplies were loaded onto boats. Vendors shouted out prices, waving their hands to anyone passing too closely. Grace scoured the docks for help. She had to duck her head to wipe a stray tear. Her fish nets were empty, and her father was gone. Both were caused by the Huxley brothers. They cut her nets early that morning. Grace had pulled up unraveled rope, marked with an ‘H’. To them, it was a practical joke. To her, it was her last lifeline being cut. Two months ago, her father had taken the fishing boat and left. A drunkard with a dream. Grace watched him sail away, barely staying on his feet. He was shouting about ‘the lost treasure’ the Huxley brothers told him about. “We’ll never go hungry again!” he yelled across the bay. She found comfort in the thought that he fell over the side of the boat; no longer suffering fictional delusions. Grace kicked her ruined nets further away, scowling at the puddle of blood below. Fish hooks had embedded themselves deep into her legs. A result of her ropes dragging across the riverbed. She didn’t think about it as she hauled them into her boat. It wasn’t until sharp points pierced her skin that Grace realized her mistake. She dropped her head into her hands, contemplating her next move. Bleed to death was always an option. Beg for food sounded good. Go home, bandage her legs, and cry sounded the most reasonable. She gathered the oars in her hands and started to paddle when she heard a voice to her right. “Gracey!” he called out. The smug grin could be heard in his voice. She didn’t need to look up. She did reach for the ropes, pulling them over her legs. Then, she wiped her eyes. The last thing she needed was for Levi Huxley to see her bleeding and crying. He got enough joy torturing her. Grace had kept her dad a secret. She kept the windows in her houseboat sealed tight, moving in front of them a few times every hour to make people think two were inside. Avoiding had become the best practice. She avoided everyone in town. Which was hard, considering how small the town was. Little River was just as it sounded; a little river. “Grace,” Levi called out as he jumped from one dock to the next. He weaved between the market carts, balancing on stilted posts. Grace paddled hard, but her boat came to a stop as she passed the next dock. A hand clamped onto the side, keeping it in place. “Gracey? Did you hear me?” Levi questioned. She turned to find intense eyes trained on her. Levi let his dark hair fall over his brows as he leaned into her boat. “Remember me?” he prodded. When she didn’t respond, he let out a breath. “We’re still doing that? I didn’t know Carter was going to cut your nets. Believe me; he won’t do it again. Not after I-” His voice faded, replaced by the blood pounding in her ears. She reached for the oars, but Levi caught her hand. He brought the other up to her forehead. “Do you want me to call your dad? You don’t look good.” Grace shook her head and let out a strangled cry. You can try, she thought. A tear slipped down her cheek and broke apart on Levi’s hand. She didn’t want to explain herself, so she pushed his hand off and reached for the oars again. Levi pulled her hand away. She waited for him to say something or check her temperature again, but he never did. Instead, he went very still next to her. She looked up at him, but his focus was redirected. The ropes had turned shades of pink over her leg. He lifted them off gently, looking down at the shallow cuts. His eyes fell to the puddle of blood and widened. Behind him, four other voices started a harmony of taunts. The other Huxley brothers were making their way down the docks. As Levi turned to call to them, Grace grabbed the oars. She used her remaining strength to push herself away from the dock. The hand that reached out to stop her was an inch short of grabbing her boat. She paid no attention to the shouts or the heavy footsteps that raced from dock to dock after her. She paddled until her arms gave out. Then, she laid back against the wood and let the tears take over. ** Grace was almost unconscious in the dinghy when a large boat cast a shadow over hers. She closed her red-rimmed eyes, not bothering to wipe the tears on her cheeks. Strong winds had pushed Grace’s boat into the bay. Her little river was far behind her when she admitted she was lost. Bits of floating paper now covered her legs. Her makeshift bandages stopped the blood, but they weren’t exactly sterile. She stared up at the sky, gray and unmoving. “Dad?” she called out. “Did you find the treasure?” A smile tugged at her lips as she imagined her dad heaped in gold and silver. He’d never go hungry again. He’d never be stuck in a motorless dinghy, at complete mercy of the Huxley brothers. Grace was staring at the sky when their boat slammed into hers. She managed one quick breath before cold water engulfed her. The strength of it pulled her feet over her head. She reached out, but there was nothing to grab. Her hand fell limp as her eyes refocused. It took her a second to make sense of what she saw. Grace stared at the bottom of the bay, reading the familiar letters in horror. FROM GRACE TO GLORY. She scanned the wreck for any sign of her dad. Jagged boards stuck out at odd angles. Familiar items were stuck in the rocks. A picture of her, waterlogged and ripped. Fishing lures. Coins. Grace swiped her hands through the water, desperate to reach the boat. The glass was smooth against her fingers. She was careful to avoid the broken edge as she crossed the threshold. The inside was just as she remembered it, besides the coins that littered the floor. Grace picked up a handful and inspected the golden hue. Their reflection did little to light up the helm. She pocketed them and scanned the place for something more important: her father. Grace turned to enter the dark cabin when she beheld- Eyes. A predator, exposed in its hiding spot. Grace froze. Slowly, she pulled herself back through the broken window and bumped into a hard surface. A surface that rose and fell. She turned to find sad eyes looking down at her. Levi’s hand wound around her waist. The other grabbed the top of the boat, unaware of what lay inside. She furiously shook her head, but it was too late. The moment her heart stilled; the water stirred. Slimy skin brushed against her arm. Levi’s wide eyes followed it to the line of pink above them. It created a trail right to Grace’s boat - and the men that plunged over the side of it. Four bodies dropped into the bay, creating a surge of water that redirected the shark’s path. He swam for the youngest Huxley; Eli. A fourteen-year-old with nothing but fear in his eyes. Grace couldn’t swim fast enough. She quickly realized she was being dragged. Levi swam with one arm still wound around her. It slowed him immensely. She pried his fingers away, only for them to clamp onto her again. Grace grabbed his face and mouthed ‘ go’. She could see the internal struggle through his clenched jaw. Finally, Levi dropped his arm and swam for his brother. He still couldn’t reach him in time. It was Carter, the oldest, that grabbed Eli’s ankle and tugged him out of the shark’s path. It circled and searched. Grace paused in the water, fighting the urge to breathe. She didn’t think she could make it back to the top anyway. Her hand found the jagged coin in her pocket. It reopened the cuts on her legs easily. Another trail of red was bright in the water. A pinpoint the shark could easily find. It turned twice before she could make out the whites of its eyes. Grace looked up at the Huxleys. They came to save me, she had thought. It was a good thought to end with. She looked from brother to brother, who she once considered a second family. Eli, and then Kole. The youngest ones; that taught her how to catch frogs. Carter and Liam; turning something over in their hands. They were the oldest. The ones that pushed a boy into the river for insulting her. And, of course, Levi. Levi was- she counted the brothers again. Only four floated above her. Where was- A hand wrapped around her wrist. It yanked her from the cloud of diluted red. The shark sailed past. It turned a second later, set upon them. With only a meter between them and the shark, Levi pushed Grace out of the way. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his hands out before him. A useless shield. “Levi!” bubbles exploded from Grace’s mouth. Water flooded her throat. She reached out, but something shot past her fingers. A spear split the water in front of her. It pierced the shark’s skin, plunging into its jaw. Another stream of red billowed into the water. Levi opened his eyes to find teeth frozen in front of him. He looked up at the monster, dead in the water. Then, Levi turned to Grace. Her glassy eyes were obscured by pink water. Bubbles escaped her lips and traveled to the surface. He pointed from brother to brother in silent command. ** “Breathe, Grace.” Levi passed her up to his brother with little effort. He landed next to her, bracing the side of the boat as it rocked. Grace’s legs were strewn over Carter’s knees. Her eyes remained closed and her chest barely moved. She was paler than usual. Except for her legs, which trickled blood over the deck of the Huxley’s boat. Levi turned to his brother with narrowed eyes. “It’s all your fault,” he ground out, “You cut her nets.” Carter ducked his head and reached for the bandages. “I didn’t- How was I supposed to know?” He plucked the towel from Liam’s tight grip. That morning, Carter had swaggered into the house with a grin on his face. She’ll have to talk to you now, he nudged his brother. Levi had returned the gesture with fists. “Two months,” Levi hissed. It had been two months of silence from Grace’s house. Their daily visits just ended. She stopped coming to the docks. She stopped speaking to them at all. None of them knew why. It wasn’t until they saw her dad’s boat on the rocks that they realized; Grace was alone. Carter tossed a bloody fish hook onto the deck. “If I would’ve known, I would’ve been there.” He grabbed the bottle Liam handed him. “She almost died.” Carter struggled to get it open, “And where were you?” “I-” Levi couldn’t finish the sentence. His yell died in his throat. For two long months, he was thinking of ways to get Grace’s attention. He lingered at the docks for her. Then, he’d take the long way home to get a peek of her through her windows. They were always shut. “I-” His eyes fell to Grace. She looked smaller in the boat, bleeding over his brothers. Wet hair stuck to her face and pink dotted her cheeks. It wasn’t until Carter poured cleaning alcohol over her legs that Graced tried to scream. She coughed up water onto the deck instead. Levi dropped to his knees next to her, pushing the hair out of her face. “Grace?” he tried. “Gracey?” Grace sucked in a few breaths of air before she started to laugh. All five Huxley brothers turned and stared as she smiled at the sky. “You did it,” she whispered. Rain had started to fall, landing in her already wet hair. She seemed to revel in it, raising her hand to the sky. Eli shot Levi a nervous look before he leaned over Grace. “Did what?” he questioned. Grace pushed herself to her elbows and reached into her pockets. She took out handfuls of golden coins for Eli to see. “He found your stupid treasure,” she laughed. The coins slid through her fingers and clattered against the deck. “You did it, dad.” Levi looked down at her with sad eyes. “Grace,” he brought a hand up to her cheek. She leaned into it, beaming. He dropped his eyes, to the gold that littered their deck, and remembered what he told Grace’s dad two months ago. I’ve got my eyes set on treasure, Mr. Owens. Better than all that glory stuff you talk about. It’s just down the river, around two bends. After the drop-off; where the water turns dark. You know the spot? He knew the drunk man hadn’t realized he’d just given him directions to his own house, so he added: Quite a treasure, she is. Levi dropped his forehead to Grace’s and breathed her in. “You’re right,” he closed his eyes, reveling in the moment with her, “He did it.”


John looked out at the magnificent canyon in front of him. Layers of orange, brown, and purple underlined the indigo sky above. The scene looked almost unreal. The colors of the rocks seemed to change with the light and shadows. “Cliché as it is, it really is grand”, he thought to himself. John had always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. He had been planning this trip for years. Now, he was finally here. And he had a feeling that he would find what he was looking for. He marveled at the geological greatness in front of him. The relentless cutting action of a river carved into the terrain over millions of years to create this canyon. Now, that river appeared to be a mere thread, winding through the sheer cliffs of the canyon walls. “Nature always wins”, he mused. “There’s no escape.” John was nearing retirement age. And he had never married or had children. He never had the time. Work had always kept him busy and content. Gearing up for that promotion. Or that raise. So that he could buy more things. They all said that he was lucky to have been assigned an “intellectually stimulating” job at least. Working hard gave him the right to be in this world. As John sat there in awe of the canyon, he noticed his attention turning to a series of images from earlier in the day. Sights and sounds of the people he had seen in the afternoon. Friends, family, and lovers. Smiling and laughing. Faces with rosy cheeks kissed by the brisk air. All visiting tourists, like him, who came to appreciate the awesome, alien-like landscape on this perfect autumn day. Happy. Now, their joyous faces seemed to be but mere traces in the burnt-orange dirt. Short, ephemeral moments in the vastness of nature. Whispers of moments that disappeared as soon as they were created. “No escape”, he thought again. John felt trapped. He did choose to be here; he did choose his life's path. Just like everyone else. But this world seemed to make so many promises that he never felt like it actually kept. And that left him with nothing. A frightening feeling of emptiness. That vacuum, in turn, spawned a yearning for something. It didn’t have to be a person. In fact, he was unlikely to find a person at this point. What he wanted was a connection to something greater. He admired the view for a few more minutes before getting up to prepare his campsite. John had hiked about five miles from the nearest parking area. Now, he wanted to get settled before it got too dark. Out here, when the sun sets fully, only the dim white light of the stars and moon illuminate the earth. John had all the equipment he needed to survive a few days in the wilderness. It was the exact kind of simple respite he needed, away from the busyness of his never ending work. A tent and a sleeping bag. A portable stove and enough food and water to last him. No need, or desire, for anything more. After he had set everything up, John decided to take a short walk before dinner. He wanted to explore the area a bit and look for an undisturbed spot to just sit amongst the brush and watch the stars. He walked further and further away from his campsite. Suddenly, he heard a rustling sound in the bushes to his left. He stopped in his tracks. The sound stopped. Then another rustle. John’s breath got very quiet. This was it. This was why he had come out here. His heart beat like a drum in his chest as he slowly, deliberately turned towards the sound. Neither fight, nor flight. Just... a little... closer... And there it was: an enormous stag, wearing a resplendent set of antlers that shone like polished gold in the starlight. It stood in the shadows and stared right into John's soul with its large, dark eyes. They locked eyes. Then, with a snort and a flash of its white tail, the deer jumped away and darted into the darkness. John let out a sigh of relief. “Jesus... just a lame old deer." He turned to walk back to his campsite, heart still pounding in his chest. "At least it wasn’t a mountain lion. Or the yeti monster. What a real adventure that would've been!” As he walked back to his campsite, John couldn't help but reminisce about the experience he just had. He replayed the image of the gold-antlered stag in the darkness. He remembered how his body felt during the surge of raw fear mixed with awe. At least he thought he was walking in the direction of his campsite. John decided to look up. None of his surroundings looked familiar to him. Maybe it was the sudden rush of adrenaline. Maybe it was the pitch-black darkness. It was as if the vegetation and rocks around him had been rearranged without him knowing. A feeling of dread took over his body. He was lost. “Shit!” John leaned against a nearby tree and took some deep breaths. “Calm down. Breathe.” John sat down onto the ground and attempted to get his bearings. He looked up. None of the constellations he was familiar with appeared in the sky above him. “What the hell is going on... I’ve got to calm down.” Then, he slumped down on the ground, next to the tree. “I need to rest. I'll figure out how to get back tomorrow. What’s the worst that can happen me?” John took a slow, deep inhale through his nose. Then a long, cathartic exhale through his mouth. He let his pounding heart slow down, beat-by-beat. As he lay there, still. He felt the weight of his entire body pressed softly against the earth. Laying there on the sandy soil of the canyon, amongst the brush and under the stars, John shut his eyes. --- He heard a beeping sound. Condensation from the hot, humid air tickled his cheeks. John opened his eyes. Orange-hued lights illuminated a shadowy room full of rusting, metallic pods. Each pod was placed side-by-side, right next to another one. A bundle of wires connected each pod to the wall and the sustaining digital system beyond. Each pod contained an immobile human body. A room full of humans so close in physical proximity to each other, yet separated by worlds of entirely fabricated realities. Outside the room, hung a sign: "Simulation in progress." This was one of many such rooms. Rooms where people devoted any and all hours of the day “plugged-into” the system. The system created a controlled, virtual environment optimized for the success, satisfaction, and sense of connection that every player longed for. All for a reasonable price, of course. He couldn’t afford the simulation any longer. His time had run out. John took off his headset, and stood up.


The curtains are drawn this morning, allowing the sun to wake me. Jordan must have known I wanted to sleep in, but also that I would be angry with myself if I did. He usually parts the curtains first thing in the morning for me, before he gets ready for his morning jog. I needed the extra sleep, thankful not to have been brutally awakened by a striking alarm clock. I can still hear the cries from the evening before. Despair has a taste if you didn’t already know, and it never seems to truly dissolve. I carry weight I don’t need, the emotions of other’s greatest losses and misfortunes. Maybe in another life, I wake up to these mornings where my only burden is to perform house-hold tasks and take the children to soccer. This life is too painful for those endeavors, I am not allotted the grace others have. Disco jumps into bed to greet me with his usual good-morning kisses, thankfully blessing me with a respite from my own thoughts. He knows when it’s truly time to get up and moving, so I don’t fight him when he runs to bring me his leash. Jordan won’t be back for a while now, and Disco is too lazy to run with him, he prefers his morning walks to consist of uninterrupted sniffing and people watching. I change, head to the kitchen, and pour myself a to-go cup of coffee before lacing up my tennis shoes and taking Disco on our morning stroll. If I’m moving and getting my daily dose of Vitamin D, my mind can stay on autopilot. I swear by it, movement and sunlight can cure some of my darkest memories--and when they can’t there’s always Zoloft. The café is three blocks from our house, on the corner before entering town, and by far my favorite place in the entire World. Nothing bad happens here I swear, expect for maybe burnt croissants and an occasional ass-hole customer who thinks he can brew a better medium roast (and trust me he can’t, I don’t care if he’s recently traveled to South America, that doesn’t make you a guru on the art of roasted beans). Disco knows where we are heading so I follow his lead. It’s our usual Saturday routine and he is ready to be doused in continuous affection from café goers and Janice the barista who makes a little extra bacon in the morning just for him. When we approach the corner, we can already tell it is just another bustling Saturday Morning at the Grind. Beautiful. Although, I don’t normally care for my outward appearance on my days off, today I am exceptionally drained and cannot imagine how that is manifesting on my face. But, a better reason to refresh with another cup of coffee and Janice’s freshly baked scones. The door chines when we walk in, and Janice is behind the counter taking orders while her little minions, the local High Schoolers who work here over the weekend, fill them as quickly as possible. Janice sees us as we enter the queue, “Welcome Friends! Happy Saturday, the usual?” “Yes, please,” I feel bad shouting over the others in front of me in line, and they seem disgruntled I’ve taken notice before them. The harms of being a loyal customer and an exceptional tipper. “Can I say Hi?” A woman behind me asks, gesturing to Disco, “Oh of course, he’d love it.” Disco is sitting by my side but can’t hide his excitement with his tail thumping against the ground as the woman gives him a couple of pats on the head. “So well behaved,” she coos to him “Only on Saturdays,” I awkwardly jest back. Janice steps away from the counter to bring me my coffee and to-go bag of two scones. She carries with her two pieces of bacon for Disco to devour as I hand her over the cash and tell her to keep the change. Disco and I make our way out of the café, to sit in outdoor patio the Grind has open on days like today. Content with his walk and bacon treats, Disco lays down under the table and I begin opening my bag of scones. At the table across from us there is a young woman with her two children: a toddler sits in her lap, and an infant beside them in the stroller. She rips off pieces of her muffin to give her little girl as she giggles while bouncing in her lap. They look radiant together, two pieces meant to be. A mother and a child. She kisses her little girl while making sounds to make her laugh and the child is ecstatic, giggling and grabbing onto her mother’s face to return the gesture. My phone buzzes, a text from Jordan “Be home in 15. Cooling down now.” I reply with a thumbs up not to be short, but just to acknowledge him. It’s her tone that makes my stomach instantly drop when the young mother says, “Macy. Macy...Macy what’s wrong,” she’s lightly shaking her daughter who has now gone silent with her eyes wide open in shock. Fuck . I knock my coffee over quickly rising from my chair, Disco is alert now, “ Stay Disco.” and he must sense there is something wrong because he listens. Rushing to them, I tell the mother, “I’m a doctor, I believe she’s choking.” She doesn’t even have to fight me, she relinquishes her baby girl into my hands without a second thought. The situation is gathering more attention, I look through the crowd gathering on the patio, and those stopping on their way out of the café. My eyes lock with an older gentleman in bike wear, I speak directly to him and him only, “Sir, call 911. Tell them there is a child choking,” as I simultaneously turn the girl so I am supporting her upside down by the shoulders and begin to slap her back in hopes of dislodging the piece of food. I have no time to follow up with biker man and hope he has done the task I delegated to him, there is no time to stop what I have already begun. Janice has run out of the café by now, “Melanie, what can I do?” “Make sure the police were called by that gentleman, and I need you to start a timer on your phone. I’ll need to know how long her windpipe has been obstructed to report to the paramedics. If I’m reaching 5 minutes, tell me immediately,” Janice nods. Now the mother is starting to panic. Her hysteria overcomes me, but I must remain calm. I turn the child over, so she is still upside down, but now her face is upwards, I place two fingers onto her sternum. She’s blue. I need to provide her with some circulation. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I say in my head. One count for each compression, then I flip her over again. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Five back slaps to give her diaphragm, praying this time the piece of food will dislodge and we’ll hear her scream and cry. Come on, Macy. Come back to me, Macy. Don’t stop now. Don’t stop now. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Flip. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Flip Where are the paramedics? I need assistance. I can’t do this alone. Come on, Macy. It is utterly silent, and yet chaotic at the same time. The mother’s screams ring in my hears, but my focus is on Macy. I can’t let her penetrate it. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Flip. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Flip. “Melanie, you’re reaching four minutes,” Janice says calmly but assertively so I hear. Come on, Macy. God damnit. Come on. The longer you’re without oxygen, the more damage there will be. Come on, baby girl. The back slaps continue, One. Two. Three. And then the gasp followed by a scream. This time, not from the mother. Relief washes over me. I cannot even feel my body. My arms lay limp as the mother grabs her now breathing, very alive, screaming child from me. I come up for air as well, realizing the tension left me without taking a deep breath in either. Arms wrap around my neck, thanking me and providing gratitude. I can only lightly smile and nod. I don’t know how to recover myself. The sirens are approaching, paramedics rush to the scene where Janice tells them what happened. They give the little girl their full attention, making sure she’s safe. With all the commotion, I slide back towards Disco. I give him a pat on the head and pick up his leash. Together we make our way home in silence.


It was during a one-week ski trip to the Alps with my class, that a single goodbye with a smile as Dalena walked out of the door, my heart dropped. Never to remain in the same spot again. We were in the mild winter of 2026 and we all took the high-speed train from Brussels with my senior class, knowing that this is maybe the last time that the whole gang would see each other again. Emotions were high and we loved each moment of it because we all knew where each of us were going, some to University, but Dalena decided to work as a currency expert and freelance writer for a year while she thought about higher education. She was good enough in all of her interests to make a living out any of them. About her, all I could do was ask myself, was it her calm demeanor, her curly hair or the fact that she liked Hi-Riz, my favorite band, but I couldn’t figure out why I was crazy about her. As always, I thought - there was no chance she could like a regular guy like me. Later that day, after all of us were done playing board games on the night of our arrival in the snow-covered town of Obertauern, it was bedtime and the girls who had taken five hotel rooms left, as we completely ignored the bedtime schedule. As I sat on the carpet next to my best friend Max, I waved in a lazy sway motion but to my surprise she waved back and that’s when it happened. The smile that pierced through my heart like a bullet. Never was I to be the same or appreciate someone they way I did at that moment. The next day as we rushed down the slopes and raced each other, some with snowboards, others with snow skates, Dalena was leading the pack. She won, to no-one's surprise. Having led her volleyball team to multiple victories as captain the last two years, she was the sportiest person we knew. With hi-fives to celebrate, we would look back at those moments as some of the best weeks we had all experienced. Marking the end of the trip, Max and I decided to stay up late, and create a plan to confess all our feelings to the girls we liked. For me it was to be a letter, but for him a hologram recording, which I thought was cheesy, but he went on and made one by the pool... great lighting. Upon our return to Brussels, we each decided to go over and give the items over, knowing that if we chickened out, we would each consider the other a wimp for the rest of our lives. It was not until I was in front of Dalena that she immediately pulled out a polaroid picture of three of us winners that she took during the trip. Now was my chance, I thought, and the words came out swiftly and almost inaudibly. I let it all out, telling her that I would like her to marry me and move to Forest City, where I would be attending my University for the next two and a half years. As I walked back to Max, and Dalena walked over to Vanessa, I realized that everyone had left except the four of us. He could tell that I was shaking and wanted to go home immediately. I burst out "what did Vanessa say?" to which he shook his head and showed me the hologram drone he still had, meaning she didn’t take it. I felt his pain and didn't even think to relate to him what happened with my conversation with Dalena. She had said yes. At my University graduation, the only people present in my mind, out of the 5000 in the arena, were Dalena, our daughter Emma and our parents and friends. Such is life, I thought, and knew that as I chased after my higher calling, her smile is what got me here.


“We have plenty of time.” said Angela as she loaded her bag up into her brother’s 2001 Ford Mustang. The black-in-color car blended into the nighttime landscape as she begrudgingly got into the passenger seat. Tommy fell into his sun-worn leather seat as he rolled his head over and annoyingly stared into his sister’s discontented face. He sighed, turned the key and the roar of the engine started up. “Why can’t we just leave tomorrow?!” she beckoned. “It’s Vegas! We can hit the casino early! I’m feeling lucky!” exclaimed Tommy. “In six hours, we’ll be in the glowing lights of the strip. I’m the one driving anyway! Just relax.” “You and your ‘gambling issues.’ You better not leave me at the wedding alone! Even though Shannon is our cousin, I can’t stand that side of the family.” “Don’t worry sis! I’ll be around and when the ceremony is done, we can jet outta there.” Stated Tommy as he lit a cigarette with the car’s lighter. They breezed through the late-night traffic of their Salt Lake City suburb community. Traveling south on I-15 alongside weekday rat-racers that yearned for their weekend camping and hiking expeditions with traffic fading as they moved further away. The two remained quiet as they listened to music and passed through the night, exiting the illumination of their hometown. Tommy broke the silence, asking about the girl that Angela was dating. “It fizzled; she wasn’t what I thought she was.” proclaimed Angela. Tommy saw a glowing figure walking down the side of the highway. “Well maybe SHE is.” Tommy hooted as he gestured to the hitchhiker, gliding away with her thumb out. The hitchhiker’s 5’8” frame was hugged by blue jeans, black sneakers, and a red jacket. She perceived the approaching car’s headlights and turned around; her brunette hair whipping as she covered her eyes from the light to view the good Samaritan that would stop to help. “She’s cute, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to be picking up anybody now, Tommy. Doesn’t this interfere with your blackjack time?” asked Angela. “Like I said, I’m the one driving.” Snapped Tommy. The hitchhiker came up to the passenger window as Tommy lowered it. Her brown eyes scanned the vehicle and its passengers as she complimented its style. Tommy lowered his head for a better view as he asked where she was going. “Cedar City, the university there - S.U.” She said. “Hop in,” said Tommy, with a smirk. “I’m Tommy, this is Angela, the little sister.” The hitchhiker giggled and introduced herself as Gina. Angela smiled and got out to let Gina in the back seat, as she got in, Angela couldn’t help but admire her physique as she entered the car. As Angela sat back down, Tommy gave her a knowing look and they drove off. Tommy sat back as they drove and eyeballed his rear-view mirror. Gina caught his stare and glanced away. Angela suspiciously asked why she was walking so late to the university. Gina replied, “I was just visiting here, I was heading back for a class thing and my car broke down.” Angela snapped up, curiously. “Why didn’t you call anyone that you knew to pick you up?” Gina snarked back, “It was easier to hitch a ride from someone heading that way anyway than to bother my friends.” Tommy spoke up, “Let’s relax to some music, ehh?” as he turned up the radio dial. The radio announcer came on “...authorities looking for information involving the shooting at a local...” Tommy turned the dial to switch stations to the closest pop station. Tommy anxiously readjusted in his seat as Angela sat back in hers, arms crossed, and looked out at the passing nighttime rural landscape as they silently traveled along on their route. Angela broke the hour-long silence as they passed a sign that read Beaver 47 Miles . “Can we stop in Beaver? I’m going to need to pee.” Tommy agreed, “Yeah, I need to fill-up too.” As they approached the gas station, Gina asked if they wanted anything from the shop, Tommy and Angela declined. As Tommy was pumping the gas, Angela came out and was at her door tidying up her area of the car when she looked at the back seat and saw Gina’s phone. Angela looked up at Tommy who was still working the station and at Gina who she could still see browsing the shop aisles. Angela grabbed the phone and hoped there wasn’t some sort of security code for her phone. Angela easily made access and tapped on the photo album icon, curious for more pictures of Gina and any other information about her. Angela looked at Tommy again, at the shop then back at the phone. As she swiped, she saw selfies, group photos of friends, food and drink images and pictures of dogs. There were also a few of Gina in her poolside bikini outfits which piqued Angela’s interest. Satisfied, she was about to drop the phone, with the last picture she was looking at of Gina in a restaurant with a group of friends and Tommy sitting right next to her. “What the fuck?!” Angela thought. “What are you doing?!” scowled Tommy. Angela playfully laughed, “Ahh haaa!! You caught me! I was about to look for pics of Gina, you’re right, she’s cute!” Tommy glared at her as he got in the car. “You’re weird. You don’t say anything the whole time she’s with us, now ‘she’s cute’? Better put it back cause she’s coming.” Angela tossed the phone back onto the backseat and let Gina get in. As they drove, they chatted about random subjects which Angela used to gather as much information about Gina as she could. Despite Angela’s looks, Tommy didn’t say much. An hour later, they were in Cedar City; they passed through Highway 56 where there were a handful of hotels, restaurants, and gas stations still open at that hour. They stopped for a few coffees in the McDonald’s drive-thru lane. As they waited for the attendant to complete the transaction, Gina screamed “oh shit!” Tommy and Angela looked at her and saw the color leave her face. Her mouth dropped and her eyes widened, staring across the street. Tommy and Angela whipped around and saw a man, dressed in all black, pulling a pistol from the holster on his waist and took aim at the car. “Oh shit!” shouted Tommy. He threw it into Drive as the man fired two shots, cracking the windshield and narrowly missing Angela’s neck. Tommy veered the car right as he drove out of the parking lot, over the sidewalk and into the street. The man quickly sprinted and headed the car off, precisely jumping into the open driver side window, with half of his body hanging out. “Give it to me!” he yelled. With a quarter turn of his body, he raised his gun and aimed towards Gina. Angela quickly grabbed his arm and began wrestling the gun away from him. Tommy began punching the man’s face and maneuvered his position to reach for the door handle. As Angela wrestled with his arm, the gun went off causing a loud ringing in the car’s cabin. Gina shifted in her seat, brought her leg up and kicked the man in the face as Tommy opened the door causing the man to fall out of the moving vehicle. The adrenaline surged and the three began breathing, looking around for anything else. Their minds trying to make sense of what just happened. Tommy drove into the incoming neighborhood streets, made a few turns to avoid any would-be followers and stopped at a park, feeling it would be a safe place for now. Angela jumped out of the car and yelled “What the fuck was that?! Who was he? How do you two know each other, Tommy?!... What’s going on?!” Tommy threw a confused look on his face and Angela snapped, “I saw you in one of the photos in her phone Tommy!” “Calm down Angie, I can explain!” Tommy beckoned. He looked at Gina as she got out. “We’re friends that...” “It was drugs... for me;” Gina interrupted “I needed money for my family and was selling some pills. The deal went bad and someone was killed. I’ve known Tommy for a few years. My car died on the way here and you guys picked me up. It was supposed to be a quick trip. I knew you were going to Vegas so I called Tommy for a ride.” Angela glared at Tommy, “This is why we left early?! You gotta be kidding me!” “You weren’t supposed to know! It was supposed to be quick and easy.” Tommy replied innocently. “So, what’s next?” Angela asked. “That guy is still out there, I doubt he’s dead; and who is he? Why is he trying to kill you just for pills?! Gina and Tommy looked at each other as Tommy answered, “He was someone apart of the deal, just mad about it.” Gina injected, “Just take me to S.U. and you can head out. It’s my fault anyway.” Tommy and Angela looked at each other. Angela looked into his eyes; they screamed an apology that only she heard. “You’re lucky we don’t just leave you here, ‘Gina’”, retorted Angela as she made her way towards the car. They loaded into the vehicle and headed for S.U. and Angela sat quietly, trying to review the night’s events. “Where are you supposed to go at S.U.?” she asked. Gina replied, “The library.” They were on-campus in about ten minutes and looked around for anyone on the grounds. So far it was empty except for the random vehicle passing in the night, which they watched. Gina was meeting Dr. Forster, a university professor. They parked the car and cautiously moved toward the building. They silently crept, watching every moving branch and floating bug; listening as they heard the crunching of grass under their feet and the nighttime crickets chirping. As they moved toward the atrium, a figure opened the door and let them in, it was Dr. Forster, “quickly, come inside,” he whispered. When they were all inside, Angela looked at the wiry man’s frame, nasally voice and thinning hair and blurted, “YOU sell drugs!?” Dr. Forster looked at her puzzled, at Gina, then back at Angela. “What... No... I... Gina, do you have the sample?” She handed him a thumb drive and vial and he scurried to a laptop, set up on a nearby table, plugged in the drive and began typing away. Angela became furious; “You better tell me what is really going on right NOW!” Tommy opened the floodgates he had been holding back all night. He told her about the deal that went bad was actually for information on, and a sample for, a strain of altered animal DNA that could be used as a bioweapon. The lab in Salt Lake is under a government contract and is conducting research on it. He and Gina met with an insider so they could get proof extracted and sent down to Dr. Forster to test and report it to blow the whole thing wide open. When they made the handoff, the man in black killed their contact and tried to kill them too. Tommy and Gina split up and planned to meet in Vegas but when her car died, she contacted him for help. “I didn’t want you involved sis,” Tommy said. “I also didn’t want you to know about what I was doing. This is dangerous.” Dr. Forster stood up and walked back to the group, “It’s all here, this is exactly what we...“ Blood splattered over Gina’s face and torso as Dr. Forster dropped to his knees and onto the floor. They looked back towards the dark bookcases as two more shots rang out and Gina fell backwards. Tommy and Angela snapped out of their shocked state and ran back to the car. As they reached the car, Tommy fell headfirst onto the hood and slid down, leaving a trail of dark blood lit by the moonlight. Angela turned saw him sliding down the hood and onto the curb. She looked at the figure walking toward her from the tree and felt the hot sting of a bullet hitting her shoulder as she fell to the ground. She stayed low and tried to crawl behind the car but before she could make it, she saw the silhouette standing over her from the streetlight, then nothing. Tommy saw Angela from under the car and heard the footsteps meet with another set behind him, then listened as they both departed. He lay on the grass, feeling the life flow out of him. As he watched at his sister, he thought of the original reason he set out on the road this evening. The wedding and casino, the fortune, and memories he would have made; the plan and his intentions that lead to the darkness blanketed around him. The realization filled his mind and his heart filled with regret as he whispered his last words. “We were never going to make it.”


Water first beaded, and then ran in trembling rivulets down the corrugated surface of the bulging panels. Josiah took a step back. The walls looked like puss filled blisters, and they were now spewing, creaking, splitting softly at the apex. All he could manage was the single step back; sultry terror radiated through his neck and shoulders. All at once, the blister on the north wall (for he now knew that is what it was) burst with damp "BLEP" and spilled its contents on the floor. It was yellow now, and it WAS puss; thick and sticky sweet. It pooled like warm banana custard at his petrified feet and he could feel (sense) it sucking, lapping, making wet love to the soles of his sneakers. "O-oh fucking CHRIST!" He whisper-screamed through clenched teeth; his lips pulled back; stretched white in a grotesque parody of a grin. There was nothing in his mind now except the afore mentioned maddening terror; not life, not the fact that he was in a shit-hole-in-the-wall gas station restroom, not his wife and daughter, patiently awaiting his return in the small SUV outside. The fucking warmth, no HEAT coming from the sickly stuff gluing him to the floor was now at an unbearable depth of feel. It had reached his ankles now and began to swell over the sides of his shoes and into his socks. He could feel it flowing like viscous oil between his toes. "FuckfuckfuckingfuckfuCKFUCKFUCKFAKCKAUFUCK!" He had begun to scream. It was all he could do. Not a man's scream but that of a child being held down on the examination table for his first round of shots. He screamed with a primal terror that he had yet to experience in his entire life. It was NEW and fresh and crystal clear. It rattled like panes of shattering glass in his throat and oh god now it was blood. Blood was following the puss from the ragged and sagging holes in the wall. It was not blood all at once however; the blood mingled with the tallow puss and they mixed like strawberry milk. Strands of darker yellow danced lazily around in this pink nightmare; aberrant streaks of blackish red tangled with these and he saw that they were clots, and he still screamed. As it poured into his wide mouth, passed over his ridged tongue and "Glup-glup-glupped" down his spasming neck, he reached, in his terror, a sudden clarity. "I am dying. Dying early. One way or another." He now willing swallowed the ghastly liquid and awaited darkness with stoic resignation. . . . Clare fussed in her car seat. Vanessa hushed her gently, lovingly. "Daddy is coming honey. Hoooshhhh now baby, daddy is just in the bathroom. Ooh and he bringing snackies for mommy and his favorite little girl!" She smiled as the little girl sucked in her tears and bit her lip in the "Iwanna" pout. Her little one quieted with momentary patience, she swiveled in her seat and peered into the nicotine stained windows of the citgo. Her husband's cancer was only newly diagnosed, but it was bad. They had decided to forgo treatment (fat lot of good it would have done) and had instead decided on a big family vacation. (Spend some time before they couldnt) One last "Big blowout" "Damn the savings! Let's go to the beach!" They had given him 6 months. What kind of a fucking life sentence that was. "Six months to life, 4 on good behavior and not a second less!" It pained him greatly at times and they had made a few bathroom breaks since they left the house this morning. Six hours from home, ten gas station bathrooms later and here they sat. Vanessa crossed her legs and bounced a little against the leather passenger seat. She felt bad to rush him but wished he would hurry. She needed to use the bathroom somthing awful.