The early morning sun was starting to burn through the morning fog. The heat of the afternoon approached nonchalantly. For now, the weather is perfect with a little chill in the shadows. Along the waterways, an unassuming man was on a stop along his walk and feeding the birds. First came the pigeons, whose territory he was in, then a large raven landed while another rested on line nearby. The pigeons gave the huge bird space, deferring and staying out of striking distance no matter what was thrown. Today's breakfast was bits of scrambled eggs and bread. His bites of the sandwich alternated between feeding himself and the birds. It was a family tradition his grandmother started, and the source family name, Ravenna. The Ravenna Family had leveraged their relationship with the Corvidae family into making the business empire you have never heard of. Ruby Ravenna took care of the families and the family took care of things. Like their avian comrades, the Ravennas had jet black hair with the occasional ginger popping up among them. Zenzero was one of those people, hence his name which meant Ginger. Zenzero was one of the elders of a family full of adventurers with the scars and tattoos to prove it. Not that it was obvious, he looked like someone who is easily overlooked. A look he carefully cultivated over the years. Anyone who has ever seen an episode of Hoarder's would be familiar with his work. He called himself a broker. He arranged for people who could afford it to home creatures that could guard whatever it is that needed guarding. He was once in the business of finding monsters to populate the estates of the wealthy. He preferred to call it a matchmaker service. He only placed creatures in their ideal habitats for buyers who could maintain the monster's lifestyle. He enjoyed his semi-retired life. Like himself, his kids were fertile and started early. His jokes about being in the business of raising rogues were tolerated because they knew their children were safe while they worked. He didn't have any grandkids to watch today, now that they are school age, so his morning walks were quieter than he liked. The raven used the space given by the pigeons to communicate. The large bird pecked at the offerings on the ground, and a few other times as well. After a few bites, the scratches started to form the runes telling him that he was needed by the Enterprise. "I guess it's time for a drink," told the assembled flock, picked apart the rest of his sandwich, and scattered it to make sure everyone got a nibble. He patted himself, checking his pockets to make sure that he had everything needed. He doffed his hat to the birds, "thank you for your company. I must be going." Looking for a suitable place, he settles on a quiet bistro, pops the dried-up stem and cap of a mushroom into his mouth, and picks up a newspaper at the door Zenzero walks into the bar, the brunch rush ending, the crowd thinning and the noises return to a low murmur, a few tables with a single person at them with notebooks and portable magic mirrors arranged in territorial markings, symbols of industry, and an excellent camouflage for the afternoon drunks pretending to work. Picking a table near the bar, He sat down and pulled out his newspaper. Shortly after sitting the waiter came over to take his order. "Welcome, what can I get for you today? You just missed brunch. We have some great afternoon plates available, would you like to see a menu?" "No thank you. I'd like an Absinthe, Oaklander if you have it, simplified presentation, please," before adding "make it a double." "Of course, I'll have that right out to you." The waiter's relief was hardly discernible, the classic absinthe ritual was labor-intensive, and those who usually order it either never had absinthe before or it was the only thing slowing down their consumption. Both groups are lousy tippers. The waiter correctly assumed that his customer was going to be a camper, just like the other smattering of the tables. Perfect customers for the time of day. It allows the staff to prepare for the evening rush. He pulled out a banknote which was generous without being suspicious. He needed to be undisturbed. The waiter brings out the glass and the pitcher of cold water, a slotted spoon, and a sugar cube, placing them on the table. He raised the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply, the licorice of the anise, blending in with the wormwood. A deep breath, held and slowly released, warm airflow out of his mouth as he sticks his tongue in the glass, tasting the undiluted liquor. Another deep breath and holding it, letting the bubbling in his stomach settle down, cheeks and forehead blushing. He starts the mantra of focus, "Yes. I welcome this lesson, this green fairy tale. Show me what I need to know." He opened the newspaper to the comics and puzzles, the crossword was where he would keep his notes. The absinthe combined with the magic of the mushroom to allow him to "see" his message. A kind of alchemy-induced telepathy. The text and images of the paper were just something for his brain to focus on. The text on the page started to dance. A slow shimmy as some words and phrases rise above the page. The runes coalesce the usual greeting. So glad you could answer. Your skills are needed. Zenzero took another sip of the absinthe and then added some of the cold water. The words formed and filled the page, a paragraph at a time. Do you know what happened with Mykonos? The letters formed a shape of a thick human with a bull's head, tail, and hooves. The Minotaur recently was visited by poachers. He lives, but his reproductive organ has been severed. The golem used for transport, dubbed Egget, was hijacked by the organ, killed the poachers, went on a rampage, and was caught several days later. "I have so many questions," he thought as he took a long sip of the drink, blinking a couple of times to let the words respond. As do we. Those questions are finding their answers. We need your efforts to clean up. The path Egget took is easily followed and littered with the bodies of the victims , all humped to death. He gulped the water, smiling grimly at the images of the roughly cleared path littered with mangled bodies. We don't know if there are any survivors. Zenzero recognized the cascading mountain range. Fortunately, it's sparsely populated but several large predator hunting territories were intersected. Harpies were at higher elevations and along the coast. The only other thing that could survive was any one of the owlbears. The black bear-shaped lump showed just how roughly the creature wooed. Owlbear are already enchanted and the combined magics would make for rare and valuable offspring. "What do you need from me?" His inner voice asked. The text settled. He took another sip of the absinthe, he didn't want to eat another mushroom. After a couple of deep breaths, the next part of the message appeared. Your mission: handle the situation. Backup is available upon request. Regional Managers are aware of your mission. Burping signaled the end of the session. The licorice flavors help to ease any nausea. It also gave him something to focus on as his mind wandered around this new project. Egget, the newly sentient minotaur penis life support system of a golem rampaged through several known magical creatures' habitats, the only things big enough to survive the encounter are the owlbears. If there are any young, the value of their by-products in the arcane and alchemy markets is high. They need to be protected, and he started making list plans. He wrote in the crossword puzzle Handle Inventory Spot Scatter Protect His mission was clear. Retrace the path of Egget, find any baby mamas, set up wardens to provide prenatal security, and find habitat ranges to relocate any surviving young. For these efforts, he would get to harvest any renewable resources, like fur, feathers, eggshells, and even nests. The ravens and others can help cover the area and keep track of the beasts, and there are enough relatives to share the efforts for a portion of the bounty. All of the history books talk about how the Great War ended, and the Dragons establishing a financial system that allowed the use of their gold via the bank notes the Dwarven crafters made allowing the new prosperity of the Great Peace. Most of those books barely mention the other immortals who helped shape the postwar world, the Ents. Employing their Branch Managers, druid enforcers who quietly keep the peace between the different factions and help reform the Goblinoids and integrate them into the brave new frontiers. The old trees were tired of the constantly clashing mortals and decided to try to influence their peace. The Enterprise is rumored to have a splinter group of dryad upstarts who are seeking power. Potential interference from them and the usual Undead Underground, who are probably behind the poachers, but Egget isn't any kind of necromancy, so there's no direct connection to them. Add to that the possibility of any murder hobo trying to make a name for themselves. Whether they are hunters looking for fame or other adventure capitalists like himself This was going to be a lot of work, but it meant that the victims and their young could be given a chance to have a good life, and not exploited by some of the real monsters, the people who just see the revenue and not the animal. Discretion is a must. Nobody knows about Egget. Not yet, anyway, and once word gets out and that would bring all of his professional rivals. Zenzero drains his glass and fills it with water, as he calls the waiter over and orders two sandwiches to go. It's time to start getting ready. The End


"My fish died..." "Oh," I say, being especially useless in these types of situations. My best friend seems to be biting his lip to hold back the tears. Although, I recall him being nowhere near a caring state for this fish, he barely even fed it. "Yeah, man it sucks. I really liked Fin-Finnegan? Was that his name? No...I think it was Taco-" His voice trails on but I'm no longer listening. My eyes have landed on one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. Her peach colored hair is catching the sun at the most perfect angles, her eyes are slanted to look almost feline, and her smile is so...so hot. I feel a flutter in my stomach as she glances over in my direction. Her eyes obviously don't linger on me, never in a million years would she notice someone like me. Instead, she sees Chad. I mean, could any name be more self demeaning than Chad ? It offers so many assumptions about him. Her gaze is fickle, though, bouncing from one person to another. Probably finding someone worthy of her attention. "Hey Beau?" I say. "Yeah, man?" "I'm going to get a girlfriend this year." "Alright, Ace for the win!" he says a little too loud. "Who's your victim?" "Her," I say pointing in the direction of the girl with the peach colored hair. "Dude, good luck. It's the new girl. Your- our social standards aren't quite adapted to even get within ten feet of her." "Anything is possible," I say, patting him on the back as a goodbye. I start walking to Literature, my first and most favorite class of the day. It's quite awkward walking by yourself, and I've noticed how much more nervous I get when walking past someone that I want to notice me. Like Peach-Hair girl. As soon as I make it up the steps to the school, the principle is making a beeline towards me. I prepare to be reprimanded for god-knows-what, I'm an ideal target for the popular kids to blame their tomfoolery on. "Mr. Linville!" I cringe and turn to face him. "Yes sir." "Follow me to my office, I have a few questions." This man is so monotone that I don't know how to tell the difference between his good moods and bad moods. I hold in a laugh when I think of the shirts that have Darth Vader and his moods on them, that's like Mr. Leads. We step into his musty office that smells of ham and he motions for me to sit down in a torn up, leather chair. "Uh, am I in trouble?" I ask when he is silent for two seconds too long. "No sir, not at all. We just have to wait for Miss Foster and then I'll be able to start." "Okay..." Principles are obviously infamous for addressing people by their last names, so I have no clue who he's referring to. A few grueling minutes later, Mr. Leads' eyes light up as he sees Miss Foster walk in the door. I turn to see who she is and my heart does a few flips as she waltz's in. She sits down beside me in an identical chair and soon enough, her vanilla scented perfume in teasing me. I sink lower in my chair, still maintaining eye contact with Mr. Leads as he clears his throat. I can see that Miss Foster is calm and collected, so I try to chill and not look so visibly nervous. "So, I've called you both in here today because I need you, Mr. Linville to be Miss Foster's escort. Meaning, you will show her around the school, take her to her classes, and be her friend. You're one of my best students Linville, so I trust you." "Yes sir, I can do that," I say. As he continues talking, giving me a rundown of how he usually chooses a girl to escort another girl, but he trusts me enough to treat her with respect, I nod along. When, really I'm using my peripheral as my best friend. Peach Hair girl stays quiet, I feel bad because she's probably severely uncomfortable. "Now, with that being said, Miss Foster, will you-" Someone enters the room, whispering something in the old mans ear. He mutters something under his breath like "These damn kids," and walks out. The secretary scuttles in, asking us to stay put while the principle is dealing with the fight and quickly walks out. "So last names say nothing, what's your name? Does it complement Linville nicely?" Miss Foster asks, it's a peculiar question but I'm grateful for the break in the silence. "It's Acelet, but please just call me Ace. I hate my name." "I think it's cool, not basic like Chad or Mark. Is it French?" "Yeah, my mom just likes French names. We're not French, though. What's your name?" I say, inwardly smiling at her hate towards the name Chad. "Ivy, like the weed." "Well, it's nice to meet you." I smile and she holds out her hand, I shake it. She's even more beautiful that I had expected. "You too, though I do have to say, I'm pretty self-sufficient. I'm going to have to kindly reject your position as my escort," she says. It feels as though she's taken a knife to my stomach and twisted it. All my hopes and dreams of getting to know her have been crushed, ran over with a car, thrown out the window, etc. "Oh." "But...Leads did include the word friend," her eyes light up and so do mine. "It would be an honor," I say, shaking her hand once more. This time, it wasn't a greeting. Not to get all gushy, but it was a silent agreement, to stand together for this last year as seniors. She smiles with me and the principle walks back in. "Seems like you've become acquainted, good," he says while sitting down. Me and Ivy became inseparable. Beau was so focused on being the mastermind behind our senior prank, that we had little to no lost time with each other. My previous thoughts of who Ivy was ended up completely wrong. Her personality was so much different than anyone, I think, would expect. Still, there was something between us that wouldn't let us be just friends. One night, we were at a lame party that a bunch of freshman found out about. The trust-fund kid who was hosting the party lived on the ocean, that was the only plus. I was exhausted and the thought of my warm bed was starting to become physically painful. Ivy wasn't exhausted, she was the opposite of exhausted. So I let her be inside the party while I sat out by the ocean. I could feel the wet sand soaking through my khakis but the sound kept me sitting there, staring at nothing in particular, but wondering why the ocean was so much more eerie at night than during the day. It would be so much better if the sound from the party wasn't polluting the silent night. It was an hour before I heard footsteps behind me, so faint but I could tell who it was. "Hey," Ivy says while sitting down next to me. She's obviously is tired now because she lays her head on my shoulder, slightly bringing my heart-rate up. She still smells like vanilla, despite the fact that she was in the middle of about 300 kids with poor hygiene. "You ready to go home?" I ask. "No, I just want to talk." "Okay, what do you want to talk about?" Silence. Ivy lifts up her head, scoots back and looks me in the eyes. Her hand is on my leg, which was normal for us, but it's different this time. "Do you love me?" she asks in complete seriousness. "Uh-What?" "I do, and I think you should love me too. You act like it." My heart-rate is nonexistent at this point. My heart has completely stopped. She loves me? It's a question of doubt, I thought we were just friends. I do, though. I think I do. I've never loved someone, I mean, Beau but he's been my best friend since VBS in '04. I love him like a brother, but Ivy. Like a wife. Ew, no, way too soon. "I-I." The words won't come out, she's tearing up, she's standing up, she's sobbing, and...she's gone. No, No, No. I love her. I really do. I've loved her since the day I told Beau that she was going to be my girlfriend. I screwed up, but I can fix this. She's my best friend. I drive home in a blur, lying face down in my bed when I get home. My pillow feels like paper though, I lift up my head and there's a note. I thought you loved me. It was written in the same elegant handwriting that the notes passed to me in class would be written in. Not only that, but it had a finality to it. I didn't have a second chance. That was the night that I told myself my life had ended. I went through the blur and stress of applying to colleges, receiving the acceptance letters, and one small one. I saw her in the hallways, always by herself. It was all my fault. It was like we had broken up, but we were never together because of me. The last time I saw her was at graduation, the night after the senior prank, which was a total bust. Beau didn't speak for a day after his mouse-traps didn't trap, and his fireworks didn't fire. ~~~~ Wofford College was printed above me in big letters. I watched my mother try to work her first digital camera as I stood with a slump under the purple sign. They helped me unpack, and my mom explained where everything was, my shampoo and unneeded conditioner, my extra bed sheets, comfy soles to put in the bottom of my shoes, and my pictures. Including one of Ivy and I. That one stayed on a bottom shelf. The first three years of college were easy for me. No distractions, no friends except Beau, my roommate. You think he would leave me to go to college alone? There was only once that a girl had approached me. She asked if I wanted to go to Carson's one night, and I said no. She was very pretty, if I'm being honest. But it felt wrong. From then on, I was not approachable to other girls. Now it's my senior year in college. I changed my major many times in the first few years but ended on Literature. One day I'm going to be a writer, and I'm going to write about Ivy. Not directly, but she's going to be fit into every story I write. No matter what. ~~~~ Beau and I are walking down the street, back to campus. When a girl with Peach Colored hair catches my eye. I convince myself that I'm hallucinating and close my eyes, wishing that I'm not. When I open them, her sharp, feline eyes are met with mine. She sees me and this time, they don't bounce to another person. I stop in the middle of the street. "Ace, wha-" Beau sees her too. "Go. Get. Her." And I do, I walk up to her and I don't stop walking. I don't stop walking until her face is right in front of mine. "I love you," I say, closing the distance between us completely. I do what I've wanted to do since the first day I saw her. I kiss her, and she kisses me back. I put my hand on the small of her back and she pulls away, smiling at me. "I knew you loved me," she says. Me and Ivy have become inseparable. She's finishing her schooling at Wofford, which was the plan before seeing me again, calm down. I am more happy than ever. I've actually started writing a book. Ivy was a big inspiration for it. I'm heading out the door to my next class when I see a note on our white board. Feed the fish!!!!!!! I roll my eyes and walk over to Beau's hidden shelf beside his bed and pull out his fish tank. Grabbing the food, I realize his illegal fish, Shark-Bait, is floating. Oh, no.


When I was nine years of age, my young mind unironically believed that there was such a thing in the world as a "Friend Fairy", which, on the contrary to the classic Tooth Fairy, would have you exchange money for a friend. Which, of course, is an idea so unrealistic and depressing for a nine-year-old to think of on his own that the idea on itself would create an entire museum for unrealistic and depressing things and be the first exhibit. However, my young and unfortunately stupid mind did not only think of this concept, but also believed it to be true until I turned eleven, without any questioning at all. I do suppose that even as a nine-year-old, the idea seemed ridiculous, however, this was irrelevant to the fact that I wanted to be comforted by the idea that one day I would have as many friends as I wanted. Now, as a twenty-three year old man looking back on his embarrassing past, I think that even if I had the chance to buy people from some loud, annoying little human with wings, I wouldn't. Over the course of my life I have decided that, in my most wildest of fantasies, I wouldn't have any people I had to interact with, and would just read and nap and watch television for the near-entirety of my life. In short: I am a severe introvert. And, as anybody would expect from the average severe introverted house-slug with an excuse for a job and more video games than he could handle, I was planning- nay, relying on having my afternoon cleared up of unnecessary tasks and unnecessary people. Of course, to my utter disappointment, just as I was silently appreciating the fact that I had the entire evening to myself, I heard my doorbell ring - dINNg - which, as a nice bonus, reminded me that my doorbell sounded like a plastic Halloween prop that was nearly out of battery, and that I was going to have to use my hard-earned money to have someone repair it. I went to the door. Ken stood on the welcome mat. "John, enough is enough. We're going for a boy's night out," he said. Ken was the most extroverted person I knew, and if I had known that I would have to not only work with him but also interact with him outside of our jobs, I would have seriously gotten a job somewhere else. His jeans were both too tight and too small, cutting off at the halfway point of his calves, but despite the jeans being too small, he had the boldness to roll them up an extra inch. His Metallica T-shirt, on the other hand, was an adult extra-extra large, even though he was short and rather skinny. He's holding a coffee in his hands. "That sounds like a great idea! But oh, God, I just remembered: I have a dentist appointment in like, half an hour. By the time I'm out of the door for this night out, I'd already have to be on my way to my appointment," I said quickly. Surprisingly, of all the excuses I have made to avoid interaction, I have never used the classic "Dentist Appointment" until just now "Oh, really?" Ken asked. "which dentist? What's his name? What kind of appointment do you have? Have you been there before?" "Er-" I stopped to think. "Uh, there's a new place out of town- I think his name is..." My voice trailed off. "Dude. You are such a lying - what's the word - liar. You are such a lying liar." "Very smooth," I said. "Meet me outside in five minutes or I will seriously egg your house, John." "Then I'll call the cops!" Exclamation unnecessary, I thought. Get over yourself, Ken. "You won't know who did it," he said entirely unsarcastically and in complete seriousness. "Ken, you literally just confessed," I replied curiously, not in such a way of which I was actually curious about something, but in such a way that I'm just questioning whether he's mentally unstable or just kind of stupid. Then I sighed. "Give me that coffee." "Get your own goddamned coffee," Ken said. "Give me coffee and I'll be out in five minutes." While my sigh is a small, barely noticeable exhale dragged out for another half second, Ken's is an over-dramatic mess: SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIghhhhhhhuhuhuh. "Fine. Be out in five minutes," he sighed. I took the coffee inside, took a very large sip (some of it dripped down the sides of my mouth and onto the floor) and put the rest of it down on the coffee table. Then I walked back out, regretting what I was doing. "I'm ready." "You look the same," Ken said. "I said I'm ready. Where are you planning on taking me?" "Let's go for a drink." "Should have brought that coffee," I groaned, then shuffled into his Toyota Corolla. On my way inside the car, I happened to sit on a chewed piece of gum, and leaned back against the very uncomfortable car seat. Ken then had the wonderful idea to play the soft rock radio an blast it loudly. The worst part? He yelled, "Oh yeah, that's the stuff," as it came on. There goes my alone time, and my comfiest pair of pants, and my sanity, if it hasn't already gone. On a regular basis, I would never think to buy anything from the Friend Fairy, because first of all, buying friends from a fairy is very depressing, and second of all, I don't want friends. But, alas, Ken was there and he wasn't leaving there, and, after all, I was getting a free drink, so if I had the heart to ignore someone who was very desperately trying to spend time with me, and if I had the heart to let myself experience an "Ow, my feelings" drama act from Ken, and I ended up pretending that he wasn't there, tonight won't be so terrible. But, all things considered, it probably will be.


Hey guys, I've had this idea for a story for a while, but haven't had, and still don't quite have the muse to write it. Please forgive spellings, typos, et al as this is a very rough draft, a snippet, that may one day be fleshed out. Enjoy: The problem with bending light back on itself wasn't the tremendous amount of energy involved. He'd simplified that through design. It wasn't oversight. Though, he knew he was being monitored by some unnamed branch of his nation's government, all he needed was a relatively basic internet connection. He'd run a line to a neighboring house, anticipating his work. The problem was the temptation. His life was ruined. Cliche: it all started with a thought. Time travel is really hard. It takes a lot of energy, stars worth of energy to move matter backwards through time. However, photons had no functional mass, their mass was nothing, or everything. In essence photons transcended mass. They were also the gatekeepers to the limits of our 3rd dimensional reality. Conveniently, they were also the mainstay in information transfer of his day. That meant less parts. He could bend photons, back on themselves, then tracking their interactions with forward passing photons. Depending on the subtlety of the measurement, amplified by various nuanced things, he could see as far forward in time as his machine existed, though only through the lense of the internet. It was a one way portal into the earthly and eventually trans-earthly internet of any time. Again, so long as the machine he built was up and running. He knew his machine would fail, amazingly, in ten thousand years. He also knew, when and how he would die. The thought obsessed him. He knew who he would marry. When he would meet her. Then when he would.... meat her, so to speak, kak. He knew when his children would be born and when they would die. He knew that no one but him would know of his work. He didn't know how he was going to manage to keep that a secret from his wife. He won the lottery. Twice. He watched every episode of every tv show he was interested in, current and yet to be created. Spoiler alert. He knew where to be to avoid calamity, yet couldn't seem, for the life of him to stop it. He was burdened with knowledge. You see being imbedded in time, he couldn't affect it. For some reason, you could see anywhere in time, via this method, but not affect anything within it. He would seem like he was affecting it, but something would always happen to maintain his imbeddedness. It was maddening. The illusion of free will manifest. He couldn't conceive of how the agents observing him never quite figured out what he had accomplished. Or maybe they did.


His father managed to drag him out of the house that afternoon after relentlessly pestering him all through the day. They took a long stroll around the neighborhood, then made a stop at Mrs. Baker’s candy shop in the business district of the community. He had many memories from the time he worked there during his high-school years, and his father was determined to remind him of as many as he could recall of those he had been involved in making. It was his first time visiting in years. Once upon a distant time, he had deeply loved Brownsville. When he was in high-school he abhorred the thought of living away from the community. It was home for him. It was home for his family. It was home for his closest friends. It was the only place he knew and loved, and he derived great pride from being surrounded by true patriots. That quickly changed when his biochemist mother returned from her assignment abroad with a strange illness. Their lives changed dramatically after her return. His father had had to resign his employment to focus on caring for her and the family. He had had to take his job at the candy shop more seriously because the family needed every penny it could get. His sister had had to take charge of him when their father started to spend more time with their mother at the Military Hospital. The rapid change popped the bubble he’d been living in, and each passing day wringed out the love he had for Brownsville. When his father arrived home with news one evening, disoriented and broken, it was the final blow. When the admission letters started pouring in, he chose the one farthest away from Brownsville and never looked back. Ten years had drifted by since he made that decision. As he looked around Mrs. Baker’s candy shop and uncorked his bottled-up memories, he found himself smiling. Spending so much time away had healed his wounds, so he could afford to look back on the memories with a fondness that became alien to him after he moved away. *** He had been standing by the counter, listening to his father chat with Mrs. Baker, his mother’s best friend, when someone moving past the window overlooking the street caught his eye. He immediately disengaged himself from the conversation and moved towards the window to investigate further. From what he could see, she had scarcely changed. Tall. Lanky. Hair bundled into two buns on opposite sides of her head. He recognized the spring in her step. He recognized the sway of her hips. He recognized the fullness of her backside. She had entirely occupied his thoughts after they graduated from Brownsville High School, but life and its vicissitudes had gradually brushed her into the background as more pressing issues came to the fore. For the first time in years, he felt sensations that only she could evoke. He felt a tingling in his palms as they began to flood with sweat. He felt constrained by his shirt and the jacket that sat atop it. He felt a dryness in his throat, which refused to budge despite the large amounts of saliva he began to swallow. His eyes latched onto her and refused to let go. His heart called out to her by beating harder and faster. His legs stayed rooted to the spot, to afford his eyes time to feast. It had been ages since he’d seen her. She had all of a sudden disappeared into thin air. He wondered if she was still the girl who caused him to drench his tuxedo with sweat as he walked up to her to ask her for a dance. He wondered if she had changed, and how. He decided to find out. *** He picked a red rose from the bunch lined up neatly on the display outside the shop. There was so much he wanted to say, there was so much he wanted to know. Over the years, he had probed the internet in search of her, picking up all potential clues and examining each one closely, but they all led to dead ends. It had been much easier to find mutual friends of theirs, but no one had been able to give him any concrete information. He followed her on the opposite side of the street, all the while hoping she would turn in his direction so he could signal her to stop. When the traffic lights permitted the movement of vehicles and brought her to a stop, he saw his opportunity. He sprinted across the street and as he neared her, he called out, “Candace, how are you doing?” he was surprised at the sight of a transparent plastic mask around her lower-face. She pushed away a strand of her frayed hair from her pale face with a bony finger, and said, in a soft voice, “Hello!” Although he could still see evidence of the girl he had once known, gone was the cheerleader who’d actively cheered the school team to victory. Gone was the bookworm with a look of curiosity in her eyes. Gone was the voice that kept him company on nights when sleep reported late for duty. The girl before him had a slightly hunched and shrunken frame. She stared at him through tired eyes and had to make a conscious effort to keep herself balanced on her feet. “How are you doing?” When she fiddled with a cylinder inside a bag hanging off her left shoulder, his eyes darted in its direction, and there, he discovered the origin of the transparent cord connected to the mask on her face. His eyes followed a stream of white gas all the way up the cord to the mask on her face, then he watched her consume it all in one deep breath. She had a look of satisfaction on her face when she returned her full attention to him. He decided to stick with his plan, so he thrust forward his hand and handed her the rose. “This is for you.” Her face burst with life for a few microseconds, but her condition quickly bullied it into submission. “This is very kind of you.” She delicately raised the flowers to her nose and breathed in deeply. He didn’t know if she could actually smell it through the mask, but he was happy to see a smile on her face. “How can I help you, sir?” “I’m Andre Wilson.” She nodded gingerly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Andre Wilson. Have we met before?” He hadn’t been expecting hugs and kisses, but he hadn’t been expecting the blank stare either. He had spent too much time searching for her to let the chance encounter go to waste, so he prodded further. “We were both at the Brownsville High School back in the day, we had a few mutual friends back then. We even shared a dance at the school prom.” When he didn’t see any signs of recollection, he added, “It has been a while though.” She nodded. “Yes it has.” She looked up thoughtfully. “I can barely recall half of the things that happened high school. But I know we kids were up to no good most of the time.” They both chuckled. “How time flies.” “Yes, indeed. Time does fly.” The traffic light turned red again, so he said, “Where are you heading to this cool evening?” “I’m off to the grocer to get some ingredients for dinner.” She said, gesturing with her head at the store on the other side of the street. “I’ll walk with you then.” He said, definitively. She shook her head nervously. “I don’t want to be a bother. I appreciate the rose, but I don’t want to hold you back from your plans for the evening.” He shook his head. “I don’t really have any plans. I was just taking a stroll with my dad. We can pick him up on our way back.” He stood his ground. She exhaled. Wearing a look of frustration, she said, “I see your mind is made up.” He shrugged, and said, with a cheeky smile, “That’s the consequence of forgetting how good a dancer I was at the prom. You have to make new memories with me to replace the ones you forgot.” He took the first step onto the zebra crossing and motioned for her to follow him. “Come along! If we don’t move fast, we’ll have a late dinner. I prefer having my meals early.” She beamed at him and raised the rose to her nose again. As she took her first steps towards him, she said, “New memories?” “Yes,” He smiled. “New memories.”


When Richard mentioned going out for dinner on Friday, Leslie was more surprised than excited. Richard rarely made any plans for the two of them. She couldn’t remember the last time that he’d spontaneously suggested anything. Their marriage was in a place her mother warned about the night before the wedding. Mom said that marriage wasn’t a bed of roses, and there would be times when life was stale. But Leslie believed with all her heart that her marriage would be different. But that was fifteen years ago. Life threw them a lot of curve balls. Two stillbirths and three miscarriages finally convinced them they wouldn’t be parents to any natural children. When Leslie asked Richard how he felt about adoption, he told her in no uncertain terms, “No.” So, the dinner on Friday was a big deal. Leslie found herself humming unexpectedly over the next few days. On Wednesday, after work, she took herself shopping. Twirling in the deep wine dress, Leslie glimpsed the girl she used to be in the tri-view mirror. She was happy to see her figure was almost as lithe as she was in high school, and her stylish haircut framed her face just right. Paying for the new item, Leslie felt a lift in her heart as she walked out to her car. She thought to herself, “Maybe we are heading into better times. Mom said that things would go up and down over time. This might be an up that I’ve been waiting for.” Friday finally came, and Leslie was impatient to get home. It felt like all the cars ahead of her were moving along at a snail’s pace, and she wanted to lean on her own and shout, “I’ve got a date tonight - I want to get HOME!” But she controlled herself and arrived home at the same time it always took during the Friday evening commute. Richard wasn’t home yet, so she treated herself to a bubble bath before getting dressed. Leslie called out, “Alexa, play Spotify ‘Absolute Faves.” Alexa told her it would be so, and her favorite music filled the bathroom. After setting an alarm so she would have time to dress and carefully apply makeup the way Richard liked it, she slipped into the water that wasn’t too hot but still soothing. Leslie let her muscles relax. She wanted to let go of anything else in her head. She wouldn’t think about work, and the past would stay in the past. Tonight, was all about the future. A future with Richard she wanted with all her heart. Before her alarm sounded, Leslie heard the back door open as Richard entered. He called, “Hi. I’m home.” “Hi back. I’m just getting ready. You do not know how much I’m looking forward to tonight. What restaurant are we going to? You made a reservation, didn’t you?” When the words came out of her mouth, Leslie wanted to take them back. She belittled him with that comment, and she regretted it. He constantly asked her to give him some credit, and she just proved she didn’t trust him to take care of the details for tonight. As Richard entered the bathroom, he spoke tersely. “Yes, I made a reservation, and no, I will not tell you where we’re going. You must wait until we get there.” Leslie smiled to herself. “So, he’s going to be playful. Oh, this will be fun. Everything in our marriage will turn around now.” Richard waited in the living room as Leslie put the finishing touches on her hair. She could hear him jingling the change in his pockets, and she knew he was becoming impatient. She took one more look in the mirror over her vanity and grabbed a wrap that complemented the new dress perfectly. Her work was worth the time. Richard’s face lit from within when he looked at her. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Well, it looks like we’re ready. After you, miss.” And so, the evening was off to a wonderful start. Leslie felt nervous in the same way she did when they were dating. She stole brief glances at Richard as he drove, and though she couldn’t discern his feelings or mood, she told herself he was as happy as she was. The French Gourmet was one of the most expensive restaurants in town. As the car slowed in front of the restaurant, a valet approached, and Leslie watched in disbelief as Richard tipped him and handed over the keys. She began to reach for the inside handle to her door and stopped herself when she saw Richard standing next to the car and reaching for the lever on the outside. “Why, thank you, kind sir.” “You’re welcome. A pretty lady shouldn’t be opening her own door, now, should she?” Leslie loved this, Richard. He was the man she’d fallen in love with sixteen years ago. He was attentive and loving. Her head was spinning with joy, and she felt her eyes sting as tears of joy rushed forward. She was careful to keep Richard from seeing the tears, and as they walked into the restaurant with the Maître de taking them to their table, Leslie felt like she was in a dream. When they were seated, Richard asked, “Is it okay if I order for the both of us? They have a great seared steak here, and I think you’d like it.” “Of course, Richard. That sounds good.” And even as the words fell from her lips, Leslie felt the antenna come up. “ When was he here? How could he know anything about their steaks? Somethings up.” The kernel of fear that his words started in her belly grew as the evening went on. Leslie did her best to enjoy the wonderful meal, but this Richard wasn’t the one she knew. No, this Richard was more verbose. He knew more about the town they’d lived in for years. She wondered when he’d gone to the place he spoke about. He worked ten to twelve hours a day all week and often went in on Saturdays. “When did he have time to ‘discover’ all these places?” The fear turned into a caustic acid, and Leslie knew something terrible was coming. And she was right. It showed up with the dessert cart. “Oh, why don’t you treat yourself, Les?” The use of her diminutive name scared Leslie for some reason. It didn’t sound natural as it fell out of his mouth. It felt forced and conniving. “I really don’t feel like dessert tonight. Maybe we should get home.” “No, not yet. I need to talk to you about something.” She held her breath. “Oh, well, tell me.” Richard drew a deep breath. Leslie could tell he was struggling with the words in his head as they fought to come out. “Ugh, I have to tell you that I’m leaving.” “Leaving? Like on a business trip?” “No. I’m leaving you. I’m not going to live in the house anymore. I’m moving tomorrow." A buzz started at the back of her brain and grew louder as it filled her mind. "Moving? Tomorrow? But where are you going?" Richard had the good grace to flush as he spoke the following sentence. “I’m moving in with my girlfriend, and I’m serving you with these papers tonight.” She watched him take carefully folded papers out of his breast pocket. He opened the creases and lay the document in front of her. Spots formed in front of her eyes. Leslie grew fearful as she felt herself leaving conscious thought. And with that, she fainted. Life would never be the same.


This is the story of Old Ben, who had 5 days left to stay alive. Now old bens got himself a secret that he has just recently discovered. Ben can’t tell you now but don’t worry, I got it covered. Old Ben doesn’t want to say goodbye, he hangs his old head and cries, in five days he’s gonna die. Say goodbye goodbye. Upon learning this Ben goes straight to his hometown bar, his home not terribly far. Sherry that’s his girl, hears wind of the rough mental place that he’s in. Sees old Ben sitting from afar, streaking sad tears fall onto the bar. Next to him she has a seat, “what’s wrong Ben”, she asks as he pours a drink. Old Ben doesn’t want to say goodbye, he hangs his old head and cries, “in five days Sherry I’m gonna die, I’ll have to say goodbye, I don’t want to say goodbye. If only you had me for a little longer. We could be married, have a daughter.” Sherry, though teary eyed began to grin. She whispers into his ear with a sad smile, I’m in. Day One Sherry and Old Ben go to the courthouse not leaving for themselves a minute too waste. I do, I do as well, they say. Ben kisses his beautiful bride. He cant fathom ever being able to say goodbye. Day Two, Though I don’t have to say, what it is the bride and groom did yesterday, Sherry feels it anyways. The daughter inside, inside. She’ll raise it wishing Ben would be by her side. Ben cries. But look, it’s not tears of sadness, it’s joyous tears Ben has for his wife and daughter. Even though he doesn’t have very much longer, Ben is thankful for the gift of a family. “Thank you Sherry.” Day Three Ben and Sherry go to the beaches, they wander and walk for a while. Sherry smiles. Ben laughs, and they gaze into one another’s eyes. Love for the other fills them and they continue to walk on by. Hand in hand they look to the golden sky, it’s almost night. Ben holds Sherry in his arms, for a moment he forgets his terrible secret inside. The one he confided in sherry not too long before. Day Four Ben and Sherry just stay at home. No talking no walking, just holding each other in their arms. Wishing Ben wouldn’t come to any harm. Cherry holds bens hand, tells him to stand and together they look at the setting sun. All is almost done. The tears begin to flow from sherry’s eyes, a few days prior her family had just begun. Now it’s Almost time to say goodbye to her best friend, say goodbye to her now husband, say goodbye to Old Ben. Ben walks to the bed. Lies down quietly and in his head, He’s thankful for the world Sherry let him have. For a few days of love, of hope. And even though the next day he would no longer be. Old Ben was Thankful for the fact that he could have someone to say goodbye to. He takes her by the hand once more as he says goodbye to his wife, his love, his Sherry. And after all’s said and done, Ben closes his eyes. Day Five Sherry lies on the floor, crying in the other room, she is unable to look upon her groom. Her daughter, even yet to be born, along with her mother, they love and mourn. Blessed to have the short time with him that they did. With old Ben. They say one more time goodbye. So hold your loved ones close. Make every day with them count, remember to Cherish the ones you have, love the highs and lows. Like old Ben with only a total amount of five, you too may only have that long before you say goodbye. Goodbye.


Welcome, new employee, to the Spatial Parcel and Communication Exchange Office, or S.P.A.C.E. Office, for short. Here at S.P.A.C.E. Office, we take pride in what we do. This isn’t just some post office from the pre-Space Age, where parcels only had to move across land and water of a single planet in order to reach its destination, but rather across alternate realities, cosmic layers, universes, and even realms. With technology advanced and relations between dimensions the best they’ve been in eons, our employees’ jobs of ensuring correspondence between planes of existence arrive at the correct place, as well as the correct time, is vital. The first topic we need to cover is employee relations, as this adjustment can be a little shocking for new employees at first. Regardless of what dimension your existence stems from, everyone here works together like one big family. So, I will ask now that if you have any pre-existing prejudices, you leave them at the portal when you arrive for your shift. Here at S.P.A.C.E. Office, we ask that everyone show respect for every xenotypes’ individual needs. We will review a few of the most prevalent examples here, but don’t worry, you will learn more along the way as you meet your coworkers and spend some time out on the job. The first race we will talk about are the Mutelaloth. Humanoid in structure, they lack any facial features or known organs that provide methods of communication. Please be rest assured that they can, in fact, see. Or perhaps not see but are able to perceive the world around them in a way that one might correlate to having sight. When you converse with the Mutelaloth, please be sure to only ask questions that can be answered with a nod or shake of their head. Asking open-ended questions can sometimes lead to an uncomfortable exchange and challenge working relations, which we of course would rather avoid. The next lifeform to discuss are the Gala’guthic’alar, or the Gala for short. We have found that these large individuals tend to be one of the hardest for new employees to build working relations with. Here at S.P.A.C.E. Office, we encourage camaraderie and teamwork. Unless you are working near a Gala. They are not hostile, so please do not panic. However, they are very independent workers, and can sometimes come across as aggressive if they find someone is in their way of completing their task. Having hundreds of tentacle-like appendages covering their sizable bodies, it can be easy to find oneself in their way and tangled in their limbs. We have had a few medical mishaps in the past but have developed a lasting working plan for these individuals. As long as you stay out of their way, there should be no problems. Lastly, you may find yourself quite often in the presence of a spectral being called a Poltigoth. These beings can be a little difficult to spot at times, and really you will only notice their presence at the edge of your peripherals. Our recommendation is that if you see slight movement that may initially cause you to panic, please remain calm. Poltigoths come from what humans once referred to as the “afterlife”, which was really just another plane of existence that they simply didn’t understand at the time. As you are human, you may have an instinctual fear upon sensing their presence. I can promise that with time and exposure, you will learn to adapt to these shades. If you have further questions about your soon-to-be coworkers, we have many in-person and virtual courses available where you can learn all about the culture, customs, and dimensions of the diverse employees that make up S.P.A.C.E. Office. Next, let us discuss departments and divisions. As new dimensions establish contact and species find their way to our staff, all relevant departments here at S.P.A.C.E. Office undergo an in-depth evaluation to ensure everyone is working in a department and division that they are most suited to and where they are able to put forth the most of their potential. That is not to say that departmental shifts are not possible. Everyone possesses unique talents, even within their own communities. If you feel that you are better suited to work in a different department or division of S.P.A.C.E. Office, there are many opportunities to transfer. Our goal here is to not only ensure that parcels and communications are successfully signed, sealed, and delivered, but that our employees are happy and taken care of. Employees won’t stay if they aren’t happy, and if there are no employees, there is no S.P.A.C.E. Office. Next, let us discuss liberty policies. As a S.P.A.C.E. Office employee, you are eligible to one of three different employment plans. First, our facility has the means to host living quarters and everyday essentials for nearly every life-form we employ. As a human, we have our Blue Planet Abode, modeled to represent a 21 st Century New York from the planet of Earth. We also have a few sub-abodes to accommodate the outer planets and systems. The working hours for those who choose to live on-site are a constant rotation of 6-Galactic Standard Hours (hereafter referred to simply as “hours”) of work, 18-hours of liberty, with 24-hours of extended liberty following five work rotations. During those 24 hours, you are welcome to travel and portal-cross as you please, as long as you have returned in time for your next shift. The second employment option we offer is a three-month rotating cycle. For a period of three-months, you will reside in the Blue Planet Abode and work a cycle of 10-hours, with 12-hours of liberty between. Again, you will have 24-hours of extended liberty after five work cycles. After your three months have been completed, you are free to return to your home dimension, or a dimension of your choosing, for a three-month rest period, before repeating this cycle. Our last option tends to be the most popular. Similar to the first option where you reside in the Blue Planet Abode and work 6-hour shifts. However, instead of residing in employee housing, you are responsible for securing your own housing in a dimension of your choosing and portal-crossing back to S.P.A.C.E. Office for your shift. Now that we have gone over the basics, it is time to head over to our Public Relations office to speak with an advisor and find the right department for you! Remember, here at S.P.A.C.E. Office, your happiness and well-being are very important to us. We value our employees and hope that you, in turn, will value the work you do here. If you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out to our XR, or Xeno-Resources, department at any time. Welcome to S.P.A.C.E. Office, new employee, and we look forward to your many years within our family!


Back in 1982 a young man from a neighborhood community disappeared. None really cared because he had a reputation of getting into trouble, harassing and assaulting people. He also was known to assault police officers when arrested. So let's say when he disappeared not too many people in the area really cared. No one in his family even filed a missing persons report which was odd. I wanted to go to college but my family didn't have the money. I got money to go to college in exchange for helping out someone who really wasn't college material but wanted to have the experience. Anelia Ivanov was the name of my room mate. Very nice, quiet, shy type of woman. I found out that most of the people in the dorm that I live in were from a neighboring country that had cut ties with Bulgaria back in the 1960's.. The name of the country was Varna which was a province of Bulgaria. The majority of people who lived there were Bulgarian and the main religion was Eastern Orthodox. My father Andrey Petrov was from Varna, he came over in 1950, joined the US military, went to Korea for 3 years became a citizen. by 1954 he had gotten an honorable discharge, met my mom in Chicago. They married in 1955 and had 2 children. My sister was born in 1956 and I was born in 1962. In 1967 my father went out one day and never returned. My mother who was a Swedish Lutheran converted to the Eastern Orthodox faith after marrying our father. The church we attended from time to time was the Varna Eastern Orthodox Church. Nearly all of the people who were members of the church were Bulgarian. My sister looked like my blonde blued eye Swedish Lutheran mother and I looked like my dark haired brown eyed Bulgarian father. Part Swedish and part Bulgarian. My mother Christina named my sister Maud and I was named Svetlana. I was named after a much older sister of my father whom I've never met. She had died during World War II. My mom made sure we had exposure to festival and events in both communities. We moved to Florida in 1969. As I said earlier we sometimes went to the Lutheran Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church. My sister and I were baptized Eastern Orthodox. August 1980 Orlando area Varna Eastern Orthodox College When I moved into the dorm, I met Prince Antoni and his younger brother Prince Anzhelo. Both were very good-looking men. Their father King Andrian was the ruler of Varna. They knew that my father was from Varna. When I seemed surprised they told me because I was rooming with their sister, they did research on me. They told me they knew more about my family than I did and laughed about it like it was a joke. I didn't doubt this. Prince Anzhelo was a freshman just like I was his. His older brother Prince Antoni would be graduating from college in May. I thought it was odd that Anelia wasn't a princess but I soon found out why. She was their half-sister and her mother was their father's mistress. She and her mother actually lived in Daytona Beach, which was about 30 miles away. Her mother Louann Hawkel roots went deep in the South. I was somewhat surprised that the brothers tolerated her as usually in a case like this, they might be angry about it. I couldn't imagine most royals attending a college that their half-sister who was the result of an extra-martial affair attended. This royal family seemed to march to the beat of a different drum. It wasn't long before Prince Anzhelo and I started dating. Anelia had a boyfriend, a nerdy type guy. Her brother liked him. Daniel, the boyfriend was sort of scared of them. Of course they made it clear to him that they would have to deal with them if he hurt her or made her cry. Daniel was always helping Prince Anzhelo out as he liked to party more than he liked to study. His older brother was so serious about everything. Of course he was heir to the throne, so he had to be. I must say that he was impressed with me because I could speak Bulgarian, well the Varna Bulgarian which Bulgarian didn't consider to be the proper Bulgarian language. Basically it was the same, but with different slang, different meanings, kind of like the Queen's English and American English. I had learned how to speak Bulgarian at some classes at the church in Orlando. My mom insisted that Maud and I attend these classes. Maud could speak enough to get by. In May of 1982 Anelia was taking some pictures of the Varna Eastern Orthodox church when some guy parked in front of the church was involved in some type of criminal activity. He saw Anelia and started yelling at her. She got scared and ran. Got back to the dorm but forgot to lock the door. This guy got in the courtyard and started screaming. I called the police and they came and arrested the guy. Anelia was sobbing. I remember the knock on the door. I opened the door and Prince Antoni. He was furious. A female officer was in the room talking with us. About ten minutes had passed. "What happened?" "I was in front of the Varna church taking pictures and I saw some guy trying to sell marijuana and he thought I was taking pictures of him. He started yelling that he was going to kill me. I didn't look where i was going and almost got him by a car. I managed to get away but forgot to lock the door. he got into the courtyard.... "Where is this piece of garbage? Is he still here?" "He's been taken to the Orange County Jail, Prince Antoni." This seemed to calm the Prince down. Anzhelo told me his older brother sometimes had a short fuse and had a bad temper. I could see this. Prince Anzhelo rarely got mad about anything. This man bonded out of jail but came back to the apartment complex. Made good on his promise. This was a big mistake as Prince Antoni had his security people ready. He had done research on the guy. Someone at the jail had tipped him off when the guy would be getting out. Prior to the guy coming, they were in the courtyard talking in Bulgarian about what they were going to do. I pretended to be napping as before they started talking, Anzhelo came into my room and I pretended to be asleep. I heard him say that I was asleep. Anelia was in a fitness class. They talked for over an hour. I peered out the window. I saw Prince Antoni give his brother some money and told him to take me out for the evening. He told him to take me out to dinner immediately. It was a little early about 5:00 pm. Prince Antoni waved as we left. Also coming with us was Anelia and Daniel. We all went out to dinner, a movie and then I went back to Prince Anzhelo's place which was nice. The Prince told me that the guy had bonded out of jail and had threatened to harm Anelia. "She doesn't have to worry about him. He will never bother anyone again." I nodded. This made me uneasy as I knew they wouldn't be telling him nicely to leave Anelia alone. They wouldn't be paying him off or telling him to go away. They were going to settle the score with him. Most likely he would never been seen again. Prince Antoni had joked about his father making people disappear. It really wasn't funny but in order to be in his favor, you had to laugh like it was a joke. I knew it was no joke. He was dead serious and told Anelia so. She thought it was a joke. She couldn't imagine him doing something terrible to someone but I could. I really didn't want to know what they did to this guy. Prince Anzhelo was never involved with this although I'm sure he knew what happened. I played dumb and acted indifferent but it bothered me a little. "Dont' worry about this guy, Svetlana. He isn't going to hurt anyone again. Do you really think police are going to look for a guy who has assaulted them, threatened them or who is a thorn in their side? " "Probably not." I said. The police never came around and questioned no one. I was later told that the case had been closed. This is the type of power the King had. Very powerful. I found out that my father was alive and well living in Varna. There had been an uprising in 1967 and he had come back to Varna and had was loyal to the King who took power after taking over the Province. He broke away from Bulgaria and had access to nuclear weapons which caused the Russian to back off. Varna was recognized as a country in 1970. My mother couldn't understand when my dad left why the US military didn't want to give her military benefits. They wouldn't tell her and she wondered if Dad had left to go fight in Varna. The uprising of 1967 was a major concern for NATO. Finally after nearly a year my mother got the benefits. It was not surprising when Prince Antoni told me this shortly before he graduated. He knew everything and I mean everything about me, my family and everything else it seemed. The Bulgarian royal family didn't recognize them as being royals. Other royals didn't either. This family was about 15 times removed but there were distantly related to the Eastern European Royal households. The US sort of recognized them but were leary of Varna. I went to Varna in 1984 during spring break and I saw my father. Maud came with me. My mother chose not to but she knew about it. He was quite ill from smoking too much over the years. My mother was angry with him. We just wanted answers and he answered our questions. I must say that both Maud and I were surprised when he showed us pictures. Some from the church had filed him in with what we were doing all those years. I guess the real shocker was when he told us that the King made sure my mother got those benefits. My father was one of his security people and had saved his life on more than one occasion. I hate to say it but the King was a feared dictator. Whenever you have a dictator he's usually extreme left or right wing but this guy seemed to take ideology of each. Mixing of both. A example of this would be he believed that women should be traditional but also educated at the same time. His economics were similar to those in the US that were conservative but he believed that government could do this best. Allowed religion to practice but only on his terms or what he believed. The Russians and Bulgarians never admitted that they were afraid of him but they were a little. The US was leary of him (He wasn't a communism nor was he Hitler) but you didn't want to tick him off. Anyway, enough of that. My father died a couple of hours before we were to leave. We left a couple of days later. My father was given a state type funeral. We knew that people were watching us. The King talked about how wonderful he was. Loyal servant to the state of Varna. Shortly after graduation Prince Anzehelo and I went our separate paths. He had hinted this to me throughout our relationship. I never developed deep feelings towards him but was careful not to reveal this. I told him I wouldn't be his mistress and he understood. He would find someone. He married a woman who his father had picked out for him. A woman who was educated and suitable for bearing children. A virgin of course. The virgin part was more or less understood not actually written in stone. I was given a parting gift which was a new home in Orlando. Life went on. The man was never spoke of again.


Dusk was setting in, and everyone had gone home except for Johnny. It was the last place he wanted to be right now. Instead, he gazed at the stars that began to emerge in the indigo twilight for their debut now that the sun was taking its exit from the stage, leaving nothing but a burnished glow on the horizon. He clenched the chains of the swing as if it were a lifeline, tilting his head back further until he was looking directly up into the center of the universe, where the blue had deepened to black, and the stars all peered at him like a tiny billion eyes. They had come to watch the trainwreck that became his life. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps approaching, lightly trudging their way through the grassy lawn of Toro Park towards his place on the swing. He closed his eyes for a moment, somewhat agitated - he recognized those steps anywhere. It was amazing that someone with such a boisterous and obnoxious personality could carry themselves so lightly across the earth, as if they were raised among mice. He knew the truth though - it was the rats that raised them. Reopening his eyes but not taking them off the stars, he listened to the footsteps transition from grass to tanbark, crunching their way to take a place in the swing next to him. The whine of chains screeched against the weight of a body that bore itself on the seat, groaning its last resistance as they settled in. They sat so quietly that Johnny almost believed a ghost had been messing with him. “You’re too quiet, Kayleigh.” He barked at his sister, finally unsettled by her silence. It was not within her nature to keep her mouth shut for more than five minutes. “What, you mean you want me to talk this time?” she retorted. Johnny huffed, more annoyed with her now that she had a valid point and glanced at her. Kayleigh’s head hung low, her amber hair acting as a wispy curtain that covered her face, and she seemed to be looking down at her hands clasped neatly in her lap. She was grinding her dirty sneakers into the tanbark, burrowing her foot into the ground as if it sought to hide from the truth of everything. Then, as if right on cue, Kayleigh blurted out the thoughts she seldom put through a filter or kept to herself. “I don’t think dad is coming back this time.” “Yeah? How so?” Johnny was indifferent to this revelation, but decided to humor her for once, glancing back up at a sky obscured by the metal pipeline of the swing set. “It’s been two weeks since he left. Normally he’s gone for five days at most, and even then, he calls at least once. He would tell us if he won big at the slots, or if he crapped out and was coming home. No matter what, he would call. This time, it has been what? Nine days since we last heard from him...?” Kayleigh had launched into her anxious tailspin of recounting the last two weeks with a cadence like she was gossiping about the latest drama amongst her friends, as if Johnny needed the recap. He sighed as she continued her tirade, continuing to look up at the sky. There were more stars - more bright eyes - coming out to watch these children on the swing. “Not to mention in his last phone call dad said he found another girlfriend - what was her name again? Holly? Hannah? Whatever it is, he did that thing again where he swears that she’s the one and he’s gonna bring her home to be our new mom and its different this time ...” Johnny knew the tale all too well; he and his sister lived it many times. Their father would bring home some bimbo he picked off the Vegas strip and demand they call her mom. Things would be hunky-dory for two weeks at most, until dad ran out of money and “mom” would up and disappear. Dad gets depressed, drinks himself into oblivion talking about “the good old days”, then decides he’s going to get back to the strip to make his fortune. “We’ll live like kings, kiddo, you’ll see.” He could hear his father’s voice echoing in his mind, the same thing he always told Johnny as he stepped out the front door for the umpteenth time. Like a rat on an exercise wheel, the man was running to the same place and going nowhere. “So, what if he’s found another girlfriend, doesn’t that mean he’s coming back soon - y’know when the cash piles up, Detective Monk?” Johnny asked his sister in a dismissive tone, kicking himself in a light swing, the chain grinding in protest of motion. Kayleigh stopped digging her foot and shot him a look; in the bleak lighting of nearby streetlights flickering to life, he could see that he hit a nerve. “No, Johnathon , that’s exactly my point...” She drew out his full name in retaliation and he clenched his jaw. He hated being named after the deadbeat that was supposed to be taking care of them. Before he could deliver a comeback Kayleigh looked away from him, hearing her draw a shaky breath. “What if he has found the one...that makes him never come back?” Her voice trembled in a way that made Johnny angry - at her, his dad, the stars, everything . “So?” He snapped, kicking himself into a full swing now “So what if that rat bastard never comes back?! It’s the best thing he ever did for us! No more empty promises, no more fake moms! We’ll be free of him!” Johnny thought many times about what he would do if his dad never returned home, anticipating how to make ends meet. He thought how he was old enough to get a worker’s permit and would have to quit school to get a job for both of them to get by. He didn’t feel bad about leaving high school; it sucked anyway, all his friends had moved or were getting ready for college, which was never his scene to begin with. Plus, he thought to himself, I can always go back in a few years after Kayleigh graduates to finish my degree. With each pump of his legs, the swing groaned its displeasure with each attempt to catapult him into the universe. Johnny looked at the stars, drawing closer and then farther away as he made himself a human pendulum. He felt envious of those stars. They mocked him with their consistent indifference and the distance they held from the world’s problems. So, on his next upswing, he shouted his truth to the heavens, the one that had been building up for two weeks when his so-called father walked out the door for the last time. “I’m glad he’s gone!” Johnny fell back to the Earth, his feet contacting the ground again. He roughly skid himself to a violent halt with chunks of dirt and wood spraying out beneath his heels. Panting heavily from his effort, he snarled victoriously towards the night sky before giving way to devastated sighs, tears leaking from his eyes. He resented that he had to think about this stuff at seventeen years old; rather than living up his last summer before senior year, he instead had to figure out how to put food on the table and keep the roof over his head. “I’m scared.” Kayleigh whispered to him, her voice shaking and uncertain. Johnny quickly wiped his eyes and turned to look at his younger sister. Despite the warmth of the night, she trembled in the dark, gripping her hands together so tight that her white knuckles glowed against the darkness. She was two months from her thirteenth birthday, and already the weight of the world was pushing heavy on her shoulders. Johnny decided that although they shared the same name, he did not have to share the same fate that befell his father. “Me too.” He responded to her softly, and then stood from his seat, letting the swing drift gently away from him. “Let’s go home - I’ll make us some bacon mac.” He bribed Kayleigh with her favorite meal, offering a hand to help her up. She hesitated momentarily before nodding and taking his hand to walk the half mile back home. The swings drifted gently in the empty air for a little while after they left before finding their stillness, suspended in abandoned silence. The stars, blinking and flickering, continued to watch the world as they always did, before disappearing within the bleary dawn of a new day.


Benji wasn’t like other dogs...oh, no...he wasn’t like other dogs. “Owner thought he was a mouse!” Benji, like a lot of dogs, had an owner. He’d dress ole Benji up like a mouse. “That dog killed my Chloe!” Dog got a bit...meeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnn....Boy, I’ll tell ya. “That dog makes Hilter look like a pitbull!” That dog was a shame. Benji the dog was not right. The owner got weird and dressed him up like a mouse. There’s nothing right about a dog that thinks it’s a mouse. There he’d be out on the lawn of your house. Dressed in fur and cheese and looking like a mouse. “But how does that fuck a dog up?” That can fuck a dog up good. You know that dog out on 42nd? “That dog all full of fleas? That dog that just goes for the knees?” Yeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh. That dog. “Benji was one of them?” Benji is one of these. See, you mess with an identity and you get a dog that just ain’t right. Ole Benji he was a fright. He’d go across town and kill a spaniel or a shepard, it didn’t matter, coulda been a leopard. “You saying that dog’s a killer?” I’m saying Benji went Old Yeller. “There ain’t no serial killin’ dogs!” You seen Lassie, Daisy, Shep, or Bo? They’re all laying out in the meadow, so the answer is “No! We got stop that ole Benji!” Dog thinks it’s a mouse, it don’t know if it’s swinging Lassie or Mickey. “We gotta hunt that dog down!” Be my guest, he’s around town. Some say in your home. Maybe you want to think a bit before you leave yourself alone.


I have been wanting to see Hamilton for about a year. When it first came out, it was very expensive. Some of the travel groups that offered day trips in the area where I live had tickets, but they were very expensive. This time around, the tickets were pricey but not beyond my price range. It wasn't unheard of for people to fly into New York City and pay over $1,000 a ticket. This didn't include their hotel stay. I got a very good deal on tickets as a large group went to the Phillips Performing Arts Center in downtown Orlando, Florida. I've been there many times and knew my way around there. I know what parking garage to park at and where to go. There is a lot of traffic and this time I decided to go by bus with the travel group. We left in the afternoon and arrived at the Winter Park Village 45 minutes later where it was dinner on our own. I didn't really have a dinner as I attended a luncheon in Daytona Beach earlier, so I had my dinner. I went to Cheesecake factory and got some cheesecake. We were given an hour and a half for dinner and then back on the bus to downtown Orlando which was a short trip. It was a sold out crowd. There were a mixture of young and old and a very diverse group of people who attended the show. The story about Hamilton was historically accurate and a lot of things that they brought up in the show were things which were current - issues relating to immigration for example. Some of the individuals in the audience had been to Hamilton before and some a couple of aisles down were singing to the songs. The musical will be around for a long time. It was interesting to see how rap and hip hop music is spun into the story line. It's very unique and it was very good. I liked the play. A play like this would get more younger people interested in American History or at the very least talking about it. As I was thinking about it, I tried to imagine how someone would use disco or classic rock or other type of music in a play or musical relating to the founding fathers. If rap and hip hop can be used as music for history then any type of music could be used as a history lessons.. Songs like I will Survive (it would be we will survive song by Women of the American Revolution, Don't Bring me Down (classic rock song song by the British Army after being defeated) and songs like I'm on Top of the World, We are the Champions (after the victory over the British Army). Looks like we made it could be a song sung after Washington's troops crossed the Delaware, as they didn't know if they were going to make it but it was something they had to do. These are just a few songs that came to mind, although it did take me quite a while to think of these songs. The lyrics would have to be changed to fit what was going on of course. I would recommend seeing Hamilton if you can. I enjoyed watching it and you probably will as well.


I got this idea from a now deleted shower thought subreddit post. I’ve included the text for reference: >Santa Claus is actually real and we could all just be on the naughty list and he’s so done with humanity that he doesn’t even give out coal. Anyway, I hope you like it and feedback is always welcome! You don’t make this job easy, you know. Well, that’s not entirely true. You do make this job easier but for all the wrong reasons. You see, I’m a pretty meticulous guy. I keep lists and keep them accurate. I even check them twice. I like hard work, and I like doing it well. Lately, though, my heart just hasn’t been in it. Listen, I’m no arbiter of justice, just observant. I do my best to commend the deserving, and reward those who are good and decent. Likewise, I try to encourage the wayward by letting them know “I see you.” Used to, all it took was a little lump of coal. Even if you weren’t the best, no one deserves to go to sleep cold. Such a small thing, but it was enough. What used to be a manageable list of these mischievous folks has turned into an ever-growing scroll that takes up an entire room. I’d tell you what the room is called, but the last time I did that the list practically caught on fire with how quickly it was scribbling names and growing. Frosty’s corn cob pipe, not again! People, *please*. Anyway, the other list is a mere shadow of what it was and I’m continually hopeful it will make a comeback, but that may not be in the cards. Too many people try to get on this list for the recognition. They want people to throw them a party, name a building after them, or be otherwise congratulated. Honestly, just be good for goodness’ sake! The quiet, anonymous good with no expectation of anything in return is what this list is all about. I think a lot of people have forgotten that, but it’s never too late to start! The icing on the cake of all of this is I can’t even spend my time off how I want to! All my favorite beaches are closed, hotels won’t take presents as payment, and parking is nearly impossible to find. Have you ever tried to parallel park a reindeer-drawn cutter? It’s no cake walk. Rudolf isn’t any help either, we keep getting asked not to come back to places because he can’t stop flashing people. Hrmph, reindeer. Anyway, the sleigh will be light this year. I guess I can refinish the paint and lacquer, maybe replace the runners, and renovate the reindeer stables. I would say I could knock out the missus’ honey-do list, but I finished that back in July. Heck, most of the elves have an Etsy shop making one thing or another. They’re very punny. Most of their shop names are quite clever and a lot of them make me laugh, but I digress. Please, for your own sake, and my sanity, be better to each other. Be kind, be gracious, be good. And watch out for each other, because if the quarantines hold, I won’t be coming to town this year. Yours in Christmas joy, Nick P.S. Despite what you may hear in songs, it’s okay to cry. It’s been a rough year. Still though, no pouting.


I’m not sure how I got here nor when because I think I’ve always been here. I recall no beginning but I’m just now getting used to the brightness so maybe this is new. Everything seems to have a constant glow so that no shadow is ever cast. The hallway I notice myself walking in is made of small white bath tiles that clack and echo with each step I take. I come across two branching halls, both perpendicular to the first. Down the right hall I see nothing but the infinitely stretching bright tiles and from the left hall faint whispers of arguing can be heard. I choose the left hall and the voices grow louder as I continue. When the volume seems to approach its apex I reach the end of the hall where a room full of people shouting meets me. They all look too busy arguing over something to notice me enter so I spend time analyzing the room. The room is different from the halls in that it doesn’t contain a ceiling and the walls are much higher. The sky above is perfectly blue without a sun while still looking and feeling like noontime. Listening now to the people, they are arguing about religion or something of the sort. Someone calls out, “When will they arrive to save us?” and another, “We can’t wait forever.” A man walks out to the front of the room and everyone quiets down. He bleakly looks at the crowd of people before him and begins, “My people. Our wait has gone on for far too long and I feel I must say-” his eyes meet mine for a second and he wakes from his sorrowful slump. “My people, I must say that our God has arrived.” The audience follows his gaze back to me and they all uproariously cheer. They surrounded me as they had to the preacher who was now making his way to me through the crowd. Upon doing so he grabbed my hand and raised it high in the air. “They will free us from this hell of infinite corridors and hallways,” he exclaims loudly to the crowd. Unsure of what the preacher was talking about and not wanting to upset the audience, I decided to follow what they were saying. The preacher shouts, “As I had said so long ago, God would appear to us and set us free.” The crowd cheers. I’m not sure how I would manage that for them but the preacher continues. “My prophecy spoke of a soul who would arrive and then climb the slick walls with their bare hands and let down the clouds to lift us out.” The crowd's cheering reaches an unbearable holler as the realization of what I would have to attempt settles. I look behind me to the wall that looks to stand around twenty-five feet high. The cries from the people froze me still, facing the wall. I wouldn’t dare turn around and have to face the disappointment and anger of such a mob so I stick my palms to the wall and push downwards as if I expected any sort of a lift. My hands slide down the wall producing a light squeak that I’m sure the people heard. Their cheering quiets a little and I can feel their eyes piercing the back of my head. I step closer to the wall as if to get farther from them and raise my hands to try again, this time I point my fingernails into the mortar between the tiles to try and get some footing but as I push downwards again the tile chips one of my nails causing my finger to bleed. I don’t take notice of it though because the silence of the expecting crowd behind me is far worse than any pain I’d have to endure trying to please them. In my peripheral vision, the preacher is smiling ear to ear at me but his eyes carry an intense anger that I fear might just be a fraction of the anger of the room watching me ruin their prophecy. My face is now pushed against the wall stained red from the blood oozing out of my fingers. I punch at the wall to try and chip away room to grip but, as the room’s silence turns back into the angry shouting I had heard upon my first arrival, I start biting at the wall as well. My bloodied fingers and mouth both smash at the wall as a pathetic attempt to break it away. To my surprise, however, I began to rise higher. I whip my hand higher up into the wall causing chips of tile and mortar to fall into my hair. My face is stuck against the wall like the piercing eyes of the crowd had pinned me to it. I slowly pull myself another arm’s length up, my arms shaking the whole while. My feet feel like they are being pulled down by tons of weight so I kick my shoes off. I hear them hit the floor after only a second and the crowd roars louder. Their screaming is so loud it physically aches me; if there was anything I most needed now it would be a way to silence them. My fingernails have all been cut off and my fingers are bloodied and sliced up so I rip off a tile from the wall and stab it into the mortar. The tile managed to break through the concrete and stick but it also sliced my palm in the process. I lifted my foot up to the gap left by the removed tile and slowly lifted myself higher. The ledge doesn’t seem so far away now so I quickly rip the tile back out of the wall and jump up from my footing. My foot slips off the gap and my mangle of fingers is only inches away from the top. I swiftly lift the tile up and hook it over the top of the wall and quickly grab the peak. I hoist myself up all the way then just lie there. Through the ringing in my ears and the pulsing of my head, I can make out the cheering of the crowd beneath me. I stand up shaking and still grasping the broken tile and look down at my bloody trail on the wall and them jumping and hollering. I throw the tile back down and it shatters by my fallen shoes. “Now, lend down the clouds for us to get out of here!” shouts the preacher. I look up at the once-clear sky and see it full of clouds. Perhaps I am the God spoken of in their prophecy I think. How else could I have scaled that wall and the skies filled with clouds at my arrival? Of course, I’m God, what other explanation could there be. Their ovation sounds like an angel’s symphony just for me. I look back up to the clouds wisping gracefully in the sky and reach for them. On the tip of my toes, I strain to reach the heavens smiling a wide half-toothed smile. My hand is almost to the clouds but they move away as if repelled by my hand revealing the bright sun I’d once thought was gone. My vision was now blinded by the light but I kept trying in some vain attempt to reach the clouds. I leap with all my might to reach the skies but at the peak of my jump, as the clouds conceal the sun again, I realize the fate I’ve befallen. The crowd’s cheering I had thought I’d once heard was then revealed to be screams.


***SPIRIT*** The sharp winter air cut through the pervading silence of Hayabusa National Park, silencing Riku’s mind with a sudden jolt of intense chill. The extreme temperatures offered a brief respite from the torturous thoughts that plagued him. His body was now in survival mode, shivering intensely in a feeble attempt to warm itself. His thin skater hoodie and jeans, insufficient to provide the warmth it needed. The events of the day kept replaying in his mind: the shouting, the arguing, the crying and the horrible depression that followed. His only escape was the park. Midday seemed like it had just passed, but the flickering shadows of the beech and fir tree branches, dancing in the dim light of the park lamps announced the arrival of night. Riku sat at the bottom of the giant stone bleachers in the centre of the park, a massive oval shaped fish pond lay across from them, past the well trodden dirt path and across the bank of grass separating them. Surrounding the central pool was a multitude of winding paths, dim street lights and endless trees, a beautiful, calming place, the only place in fact where Riku could compose himself after the usual routine of family dysfunction. It had become a daily occurrence. At 17 years old he cut a gangly figure, just coming out of the awkward teenage growth spurt, the park light not revealing his freckled light brown skin tone, nor the piercing green eyes that no matter how you looked at them, seemed to reveal a wisdom beyond the years of any 17 year old. However, to the well seasoned observer, one could detect a hint of constant anxiety, the dark storm brewing evermore in his soul. ‘’When did this all start?’’ Riku thought to himself. Growing up without a father had left a void in his soul, an open wound that just would not heal. He saw pictures of his Dad, a dusty blond haired, shrewd faced man, pointy nose and deep creases in his forehead, revealing years of apparent stress. But pictures never helped anyone Riku thought, pictures never helped the constant alcohol that his older sister brought home, drowning in perpetual sorrow after another gruelling day at her cubicle job. When Riku’s mom had passed away shortly after he was born, his father left shortly after, leaving his then 15 year old sister in charge. She loved Riku; but over time darkness ensnared her heart in a cruel, inescapable net. Chaos and turmoil was the regular atmosphere at home. Being the younger Riku had to bear the full brunt of this, day in and day out, ever since it started at around 10 years old. Constant arguments and endless hurling insults. But through it all, deep down in what was left of his already shattered heart, Riku was helpless in feeling nothing but love for his sister, and his only wish was to help her, but with his already turbulent life he often felt overwhelmed, overshadowed and inadequate. As he sat on the giant stone steps, oddly comfortable for nothing but worn out concrete, he knew he couldn’t go back to this life one second more. ‘’What do I do? What can I do?’’ he anguished. The winter wind suddenly picked up, a mixture of brown and white as the remnants of Autumn leaves and snow intertwined. The wind got stronger and stronger, Riku was a bit alarmed now. Out of nowhere, a sound resembling the howling cry of lost souls penetrated the night. Riku suddenly fell into a trance, he felt as though the wind was talking to him. He could feel a presence in it, something much bigger than him, much greater than his mind could comprehend. Riku was never a religious or spiritual type of person but he certainly had no idea of what this feeling could possibly be. The wind grew stronger and stronger, hurricane force speeds could have been clocked for all he knew. ‘’This is it, I’m going to die’’ he thought. At first he kept his calm, as part of him wanted dearly to depart this earth, to leave all the turmoil behind. An image of his sister flashed in his mind, the soft brown eyes, delicate eyelashes and pink floral patterned summer dress that she wore during happier times came to the forefront of his mind. Panic ensued, “I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE HER YET’’ was the new, dominant thought, surging through him, but the wind did not stop. Picking up in force by the second, the howling became a deafening roar, a cacophony of confusion, sadness, leaves and snow surrounded him. Then, silence. Sand. Heat. Two things polar opposite to the sensations he experienced a moment before. Riku opened his eyes, and what he saw floored him. A massive flat, sprawling desert lay in front of him, a ray of sunlight shimmering and dancing in the red sand. The sand itself was soft, with a texture reminiscent to silt, not like beach sand. Riku was in the same position as he was on the stone bleachers, only now he knew two things. One: the profuse sweat dripping down his face and the grainy feel of sand under his pants meant he wasn’t dreaming, and two: he wasn’t in Japan anymore. Riku suddenly noticed he wasn’t directly in the sun’s brutal rays, for what seemed miles in front of him lay a massive shadow resembling a tree extending almost ominously, and Riku found himself directly in its shade. He turned around, and what greeted his eyes left him speechless, not that he was saying anything in the first place, but a fitting description nonetheless of the absolute awe-inspiring object in front of him. It was a massive Cryptomeria tree, 100 times bigger than **Jōmon Sugi** (**縄文杉)** the biggest cryptomeria or Yakusugi tree in Japan. It was at least 20000 metres high, with an extremely thick trunk, akin to multiple suits of armour stacked one on the other. It’s jutting branches climbed high into the brilliant blue sky, and from Riku’s position he could barely see the summit, so tall was this otherworldly tree. ‘’Stand!’’ a deep voice barked. Riku jumped up in surprise. He quickly turned around to see an old man, his flowing white hair and silver beard fluttering in the wind. The man’s face had no distinguishable features, except one thing, his eyes were completely white, devoid of any iris or pupils. “Who.. who are you?’’ Riku asked quaveringly. “I am all that has come to pass and will come to pass, I am night and I am day, I am the end and the beginning,’’ answered the old man. Still utterly bewildered by the whole situation, this ambiguous response was of no help to Riku. “Look old man, I’m in a bad mood, I don’t have time for silly riddles.’’ snapped Riku. The old man, wearing nothing but grey robes, produced what looked like a wooden training sword or ‘bokken’ and threw it in front of Riku. “Attack me.’’ he said. Riku stared at him. “This guy is mentally ill or something ‘’ he thought, ‘’what is he going on about, attack him?’’ Riku stood still, not daring to move. Before he could utter another word he found he was gasping for breath, as if an invisible hand was crushing his windpipe, increasing in strength with every passing second. ‘’ATTACK’’ the man thundered. Riku’s body acted instinctively, as if knowing the more he stood still the more he would gasp for breath. He picked up the sword and blindly charged at the man, hoping this terrible nightmare he had found himself in would somehow come to an end with this attack. The whole thought of it seemed ridiculous to him later on, but in the moment he couldn’t process what was happening. The man deftly sidestepped Riku, disarmed him with swift hands and slammed him back on the ground. Hot tears mixed with scorched red sand filled Riku’s eyes. Winded from the blow, desperately dehydrated from the sun and physically and emotionally drained; he felt hopeless once more, just like he felt in his own world, even here in this alien place, his emotions never changed. Suddenly a small puddle of water appeared in front of him. “Drink.’’ ordered the man. Riku didn’t need to think twice. Severely dehydrated, he guzzled the crystal clear water in the blink of an eye. Feeling refreshed and no longer like his windpipe was about to explode, he asked the man, softly this time, “Please sir, would you kindly tell me who you are?’’ Riku swore he saw a brief smile flash across the man’s expressionless face as he replied. ‘’I am the Spirit of the great tree you see over there. There is nothing in this world beside a barren desert, yet in the middle of it The Great Yakusugi tree was able to grow, do you know why?’’ asked the man. Riku shook his head, unable to comprehend fully what he was being told. ‘’I know who you are Riku Hashimoto. I have been with you since the day you were born. I am the one who brought you here, and it is me who will send you back. I watch over your world in spirit form, where no one is able to see, hear or touch me, but I see all, I hear all, and I feel all.’’ ‘’In your world there is constant hatred, anger, jealousy and all manner of sin that blinds humans to their true potential. People chase after uncertain futures, consumed by the fires of greed and lust for power. Superficiality has become the normal routine for many, as the truth of the world has long been lost and skewed over the ages. The teachings of the prophets of old have been forgotten, and every person has their own idea of what the world should be like, mixing it with their personal wants and needs, but lacking the humility to accept a greater understanding of the world around them.’’ ‘’There is however one saving grace, young Riku. It is Love. True love holds a power so great no mortal seeking physical gain and riches can comprehend it. It transcends all knowledge and human understanding, it is the key to the truth of the universe that you exist in.’’ ‘’This realm I have brought you to, is the realization of what is inside your soul.’’ All around you is barren wasteland, scorched by a relentless sun, representing years of pain and inner turmoil, which over time destroyed the once vibrant forests and trees that once grew when you were born. All that is left is this great Yakusugi tree. You thought you were going to die Riku, but just before you perceived your last moments, the love you held for your sister overtook you, despite your harsh upbringing and family life, you still clung to true love with no remorse till the end. This tree represents that love. An immovable force of life even in the most barren of deserts. Such is the power I speak of’’. ‘’Your selflessness even in your last moments moved me, so much so I decided to give you a second chance at life, Riku Hashimoto. It is not often in your world a human can make such a deep connection with the true power of the spirit.’’ ‘’From now on I will guide you in your life, no longer will your heart be troubled, you will see truth in everything you do, and will develop a perception of reality different from anything you’ve experienced before. I will call you here again Riku. There are countless worlds like these, each filled with their own mystery, sometimes joy, sometimes misery. You will be my apprentice in cleansing each world of hatred and despair, developing your spiritual power along the way.’’ Riku stood still, a sense of inexplicable calm enveloped him, as if something in him had changed permanently. He felt like an eternity had passed in that strange reality, and his eyes began to droop, the wind suddenly picked up again. The sand blew in all directions, a whirlwind of red filled the atmosphere, and the shadowy silhouette of the old man faded into the distance. Despite all this, Riku continued to drift off to sleep. When Riku woke up, he noticed he was lying down on the same stone bleacher from the previous night. ‘’What a crazy dream’’ he thought to himself. With a weary sigh, he got up. ‘’Time to go home and do this all again, the lament of poor old Riku Hashimoto continues’’ he thought. As he took his first step, Riku felt something uncomfortable in the neck of his weathered hoodie, something itchy, something grainy. With a tentative shake, Riku watched in awe as something red fell to the ground. It was the same blood red, silt-like sand from his ‘dream’. \ **©Richard Pargass Spirit Story 2020.** Edited by T.