"Finally done with my finals week..." Alex said, as we finished yet another barrage of exams while attending a school in the big city. I came from the cornfields myself, so moving here was quite a lot to take in. Go figure, there's more things to do here than hang out at Wally World. I loved the excitement and rush of the big city, leaving behind my beloved cornfield strewn rust built town. I was still pretty naive looking back on it, as I had a pretty sheltered upbringing. But I found a circle of like minded quirky friends and we loved to get into shenanigans together. "So what are you gonna do over break?" I asked. Alex juggled a lot of work and school hoping to become a scientist himself. Definitely not a superstitious type. "Hopefully I'll get a full night's sleep for once...." he retorted. Rohit met us shortly at lunch. He was a well to do and extremely smart fellow. We talked about our plans and quickly found out we really had nothing much going on. The college town usually cleared out over break. That small town boredom was all too familiar and reared its head. We decided to explore the city a bit and soon found an old abandoned house. It was owned by a man called Eldin Snape, an elderly shut in who suddenly disappeared. With no heirs to claim his estate, the house fell into neglect. The windows were boarded up and it looked in disrepair. "I hear nobody has been in there for over 30 years...." Alex said. "Hah, I bet there's probably some ancient demonic book or something in there." Rohit said jokingly. The house was entirely abandoned, and against my gut instinct to not do something stupid, we soon hopped the fence and stumbled in to see what we could find. We soon encountered an arsenal of bookshelves strewn with books. So I started pulling books off the shelves....."Potion Making 101"..."The Beginners Guide to Growing Poison Apples"... "12 Steps to becoming a Mind Reader".....As you might imagine I was surprised to find such peculiar books here. "What a weirdo, why does he have all of these ridiculous books?" Alex said. "I guess when you're an old shut in, books become your best friend" Rohit retorted. Something was off about these books though.... they looked to be extremely old, hundreds of years old even. The pages were tattered and every book we opened just plumed with that unmistakable old book smell. We soon found an empty leather chair, and there was an open book sitting on it. "Invisibility and Transformation Spells for the Budding Magician." Of course a giant lightbulb went off in my head....but there was no way....I bet somebody else came here before and left that behind as a joke. "I found this book on invisibility, I bet Eldin is invisible now and sneaking into the theaters as we speak." I started reading through it and the entire book was written in Latin.... totally incomprehensible. But it had a bunch of pictures of different animals in it, even fictional ones like gryphons and dragons. "Oh my god!" Rohit shrieked from the next room. We walked over and soon found that one of the bookshelves had turned into solid gold. A book lay on the floor..." The Midas Touch." Shocked, I started wondering if those gummy bears my girlfriend gave me had acid in them. Alex soon walked over and had a look of shock and horror plastered on his face, then I knew this was the real deal. "What did you do?!" Alex roared. "I picked it up this book and...... he paused and soon grew an aura of maliciousness around him. He was the only one of us who knew Latin, being the well-read fellow he is. "These books turn people into gods...and there can only be one god....lest the world be thrown into a divine war....." Consumed by insanity, he lunged and touched alex. He quickly materialized into a solid gold statue, frozen in a state of horror and awe. He then looked at me with the same terrifying look. Immediately, I started sprinting towards the door. I don't know what instinct kicked up inside me, but I managed to snag the book the old man left behind before making it out. I outran him and soon made it home with the book safely in tow. Terrified and trying to gather my thoughts, I knew two things. My former friend had totally lost his mind, and if I didn't stop him, the world would most certainly end. As I sat in the porch trying to glean any comprehension of the book, a black cat walked before me. "Great, is this the bad omen that's supposed to tell me I'm screwed?" I said aloud. "Quite the opposite..." the cat said back."My name is Eldin, and your genius friend didn't read the part where the power of the Midas Touch comes with the price of insanity." I knew Rohit well, and I knew he would never do something like that on his volition. "The magical ward I placed over that building wore out, and I was just on my way to re-cast it when I saw you running away." The cat said. "That house is filled with books of tremendous power, and ideally those books won't slip into the wrong midas-touchy hands..." Still reeling from shock, I mumbled out, " So what can we do now?!" "We kill him, that's what. Don't worry about a thing." the cat said. "Isn't there any other way we can reverse the effects?" I asked, wanting desperately to save my friend from insanity. "There is, but doing so requires placing your hand on his chest and reciting an enchantment. You get too close to him, and you're dead. Killing him is the only way." I immediately came up with an idea and showed him the book I took. "This book allows you to turn invisible right? What if I sneak up to him and say the magic anti-batshit insane words?" "That could work, but doing so takes a few moments. He can still hear your voice and feel your touch, and if he reaches out and touches, you'll become a trophy just like your friend." I knew doing this would be a huge gamble, but if I didn't try, this mage was going to assassinate my friend. "Why don't I try... and if I fail and get turned into a hunk of gold you can undo it......right?" The cat gave a long pause before answering. "No I cannot. Anything turned to gold through the Midas touch cannot be undone. Haven't you read the myth?" I cared deeply my friend and knew he had an extensive family that loved him. Hesitantly, I said, "That's a risk I'm going to have to take. If I don't make it out, melt down my body and sell the gold. Give half the money to his family and half to mine." The cat sighed. "I don't have time for this...." and walked away. I read through the book until I found the section until I found a picture of a man turning invisible. Using my trusty friend Google Translate, I was able to read it and recite the enchantment, and soon my body faded away with my consciousness still present. I solemnly walked back to house, and saw my friend hunched over a brewing cauldron with open books strewn everywhere. I snuck up to him and ever so slightly touched his chest as he sit over his cauldron and began whispering the words. As luck would have, the rotting floor gave way and my foot fell through the floor halfway through the enchantment. Panicked, I started speedily reciting the enchantment hoping to finish it before he figured out what was going on. His arms emitted a strange glow and he flailed them in a panic, hitting me on the shoulder. I felt my feet slowly go numb, but I managed to finish the recitement in time. Rohit passed out before me, and I lay on the floor slowly becoming a gold statue. The cat walked up to me as the gold had crawled up my body and reached my chest. "Idiot...." He booped me with his paw and immediately my body returned to normal. He walked up to Alex and did the same. I stood up filled with rage. "You told me the spell was irreversible!!!" "Eh, killing him would have been easier." the cat said. "Now, get out of my house." Cats are assholes.


Shane wasn’t like most super heroes. He didn’t come from a far away planet or get bitten by a radioactive spider. In truth, he was the last person you would expect to save the world, but in his own little way he did just that. The Parker’s, Mary Louise and Peter, had long since given up hope of having a child when Mary found out she was pregnant. The news, however, was as welcome as it was shocking. It was probably for this reason that they seemed to be the only two people not disappointed when Shane was born with an extra chromosome. From his first day on earth, his dad called him “Clark Kent” because he instinctively knew his son would one day be great. For most kids, sharing a nickname with the alter ego of a superhero would be oppressive, but not for to Shane. He embraced his namesake and would run around the neighborhood sporting a cape he had fashioned from a red towel. His smile, as ever-present as his cape, was the kind that could light up a room. His daily responsibilities included helping old women cross the street, chasing away raccoons from the neighbors trash, and reporting any oddities to his superiors-his mom and dad. When he wasn’t patrolling the neighborhood, Shane would revert to his alter ego and do his most favorite thing, paint rocks. Shane could thank his mom for his everyday passion as she was a painter by trade and passed on that love to her only son. All of the trees in Shane’s yard were surrounded by his brightly colored stones. His mom told him that whenever she had a bad day she needed only to look at her son’s handiwork to make her day better. It wasn’t as easy to please the neighbors, however, as most kept to themselves. There was old Mrs. Wiggins and her German Shepard. Her face was a virtual wrinkled roadmap. If it had a legend it would reveal a hard life with many stops for disappointment. Shane’s mom said Mrs. Wiggins used to be a seamstress, but she had been forced into retirement by fingers that had grown feeble. She never seemed to stray further than her front yard and only seemed capable of saying one thing out loud, “You kids git or I’ll set my dog on you!” It was an idle threat as her German Shepard seemed as old as Mrs. Wiggins and rarely left the front poach. Most of the neighborhood kids found tormenting Mrs. Wiggins to be a sort of local Olympic sport. They would take turns invading her privacy, forcing her to yell her catchphrase. They would then scatter only to reform to rate the success of their intrusions. Shane, on the other hand, would have none of that. He would stop running whenever he would pass the Wiggins’ home and walk by respectfully, making sure never to trespass on her beloved grass. There was also Crazy Man Johnson who walked the entire neighborhood twice a day. That wasn’t his real name, but it’s what all the kids called him--all the kids but Shane. Shane called him Mr. Johnson, even though the old man never responded. He would just mumble under his breath words no one could understand. Shane’s dad confided in him that Mr. Johnson used to be very friendly before he lost his wife. “I’ll help look for her,” Shane said in his best superhero voice. “It’s not that simple,” Shane’s dad replied. He then cleared his throat but eventually went quiet without giving any further explanation. Last but not least was the neighborhood Super-Villian, Billy Melbourne, Billy the Kid to his band of marauders. He was the de facto leader of neighborhood boys and he bullied Shane relentlessly. “You’re a retard!” Billy would yell as Shane ran by. “That’s not a cape, it’s just an old towel.” Shane tried to ignore the taunts because, as a superhero, he needed thick skin, but one taunt caught Shane completely off guard. “If you’re a superhero, what’s your superpower?” Billy’s words hit Shane like a sledgehammer. Shane knew his cape was made from a towel, but it was still a cape. He, however, had no answer for the latest unkind inquiry. Billy, it seemed, might just be right. Shane couldn’t fly, or run faster than a locomotive. He didn’t have super strength or “Spidey-sense.” He didn’t even have a cool utility belt like Batman and Robin. In an instant Shane felt ordinary and it made him immeasurably sad. “Those boys are just bullies,” Shane’s dad told him as he tried to wipe away his tears. “Most bullies are just scared little boys--they aren’t superheroes like you, Clark Kent.” There was something about hearing his dad call him Clark Kent that would always give Shane back his smile. He didn’t often forget that he was a superhero, but when he did, his dad had found the perfect way to remind him. “You don’t have to have a superpower to be a superhero,” his dad continued. “You just have to have the heart of a superhero, and we both know you do.” It wasn’t in Shane’s nature to be sad for long, but the realization that he had no superpowers was a punch in his gut. Deep down he knew he was still a superhero, but for the first time in years he started to walk the neighborhood without his cape. On these slower walks, Shane contemplated how a superhero with no superpowers could still rightfully hold the moniker. As he walked by Mrs. Wiggins house, he instinctively looked up and noticed something very unusual. Mrs. Wiggins was on her front porch, but her trusty sidekick was nowhere to be seen. He had seen Mrs. Wiggins angry before, yet something was different this time.. Even from the sidewalk, he could see she was crying. Summoning up the courage of a superhero, Shane walked up the driveway, being careful not to step on the lawn. In a moment, he was face to face with a bereft old woman. “Are you alright?” Shane asked politely. “Can I help you?” “Aren’t you sweet,” Mrs. Wiggins replied, trying to force a smile. “No, I just need time to be sad.. You see, I lost my dog today.” Shane didn’t completely understand, but he remembered what his dad had said, so he just said, “I’m sorry.” Then he left quietly once again, making sure not to step on the grass. The walk home from Mrs. Wiggins wasn’t a long one, but it was long enough for Shane to come up with a plan. He didn’t have any superpowers, but he could sure paint rocks. His mom had told him how his rocks had always made her happy. He was going to paint a rock for Mrs. Wiggins and deliver it to her personally. The rock he chose was a little larger than the ones he had distributed around the trees in his yard. It had to be for what he had planned. He first painted the whole rock white. Once it was dry, he used brown and black paint to complete his masterpiece. As soon as it was done, Shane ran out the door and back to Mrs. Wiggins’ home. She was still on her front porch and still just as distraught. “Mrs. Wiggins,” Shane said, as he made his way up her driveway, “I don’t know how to help you find your dog, but I made this for you.” Shane handed Mrs. Wiggins the rock he had created for her, which had a childlike painting of a German Shepard on a white background. “Anytime you miss your dog, you can look at this rock and remember him.” Mrs. Wiggins’ eyes welled up with tears, but this time they were accompanied by a large smile. “You wonderful wonderful boy,” she said as she hugged Shane, “You’ve made my day. Thank you so much for my gift.” “You’re welcome!” Shane responded, as he headed back home. He had another rock to paint. For the next rock Shane used gold and cream and blue paint. It took two days to complete, and when it was perfect, he headed out the door to look for Mr. Johnson. It didn’t take long to find the old man, as it was right at the time when he would take his afternoon walk. Without fear, Shane walked right up to Mr. Johnson and handed him the rock. “It’s a picture of your wife,” Shane said proudly. “I hope you like it. I remember she had blonde hair and blue eyes. I wanted you to have something that looked like her so you wouldn’t miss her so much.” Mr. Johnson, not one for words, smiled and simply replied “Thank you.” It wasn’t much, but to Shane it meant the world because it was the first time Mr. Johnson had ever spoken to him. As he turned to leave, Mr. Johnson said, “Wait.” Shane turned back to see Mr. Johnson’s outstretched hand. Shane shook it . He felt very grown up that moment as it was his first hand shake with anyone other than his dad. Shane then turned back towards home. He had one more rock to paint. Back home again, Shane set to painting his finest rock yet. This one would take almost a week and required a mirror. Shane did his best to paint a picture of himself on this last rock. He wasn’t sure if it would have the desired effect, but he was willing to try. It is said that courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. For this last rock, Shane would have to overcome his greatest fear. Knocking on Billy’s door was the hardest thing Shane had ever done, and Billy’s initial response to Shane didn’t make it any easier. “What do you want, retard?” “I want to give you a gift,” Shane answered, as he handed Billy the rock. “My dad said bullies are bullies because they are afraid. I’m not sure if that’s true but I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” Billy was caught off guard by the gesture and was unexpectedly touched by Shane’s gentle spirit. There were no great professions of friendship, but in the end there was also no more bullying. Shane had defeated Billy without a fight just like a real superhero would. Happy and relieved, Shane headed home to tell his parents about the rocks. Shane’s dad gave his son a big bear hug while Shane’s mom cried happy tears. “I guess I can be a superhero without any superpowers,” Shane said to his father with a smile. “What do you mean, no superpowers? You have the greatest superpower of them all, kindness,” Shane’s father said, as he too shook his son’s hand. Just then there was a knock at the door. Shane walked over and opened the door to see Mrs. Wiggins holding a gift-wrapped package. “This is for you, Shane. It’s my way of saying thank you for my gift.” Shane took the package from Mrs. Wiggins and opened it immediately. Inside was a hand-sewn Superman cape. It took only a few seconds before the cape was secured around Shane’s neck. After an extended thank you hug, he ran out the door and into his neighborhood to protect all his new friends. ReplyForward


On a dark and Eerie night, I was walking alone down an asphalt path, leading somewhere which has long since been forgotten. I could not see an end, only the long path stretching out amidst a sea of grass and flowers. I look up at the sky and see a black orb amidst the stars, so dark it could only be described as an abyss, ‘the moon’ I thought. I kept looking up and saw something I could not explain. The moon, spanning what felt like a fifth of the night sky, glowing with more vigor than the sun ever could, yet it still could not cast as much as a beam of light on this dark path. A man walks past and asks, "Oh, why the long face, young man?". I look down at him, letting my eyes off the beautiful moon in the sky, "There are two moons." I exclaimed. "Well of course" he answered, "On a night such as this they come in droves!". I didn't understand what he meant, "’A night like this'? What's so special about tonight?" i though to myself. I look back at the man, but he had already walked farther down the path. I tried to follow him, but my foot fell through the asphalt and into a pool of water that wasn't there a second ago. I pulled myself out of the water and looked up to see a massive pirate ship go past me, a ship covered in neon green lights with passengers drowned in said light, it floated past me with a violent force. Before I knew it, it had disappeared into the fog before my very eyes. Wait, fog? I looked around, and suddenly I was surrounded in a thick layer of fog. I couldn't see more than a few meters in any direction, for some reason i could see a bench, completely unclouded by the fog, it was a surreal sight. I walked along the path through the fog, the journey to the bench was simple and short. Once I sat down, I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort, "Just for a little bit, I'll close my eyes." I said. I sat down on the bench, and closed my eyes, suddenly, as soon as I closed my eyes a melting heat drew over me, I opened my eyes and somehow, I was in a desert, surrounded by sand and rock, the heat of the sun was ever prevalent, but its light had been completely eclipsed by the moon. oh, what a beautiful moon, I'd almost forgotten its mesmerizing glow, but wait, weren't there two moons? I looked around the sky until I spotted the orb of darkness, even with the glowing sun it was completely black. It wasn't a moon, but I didn't know what else it could be. I heard steps from behind, a girl my age walked past me, I ran up to her and walked along the path with her, we didn't say anything, just relish in the comfort of the little company we provided each other with. We walked and walked, the occasional glances were cast between us, after what felt like hours, the heat still hadn't as much as made me sweat a drop, the girl also looked completely unfazed. She stopped and i did the same, she looked off into the horizon and I followed, I didn't know what I was looking at, something distant was kicking up dust and sand, it was shrouded in its own personal cloud of said dust and sand. When I got a proper look, I was so shocked at what I had seen. At least a dozen dinosaurs were trampling the sand beneath them as they ran in a craze towards us, I was completely flabbergasted, I had no idea what to do. Suddenly the girl grabbed my hand and ran towards the hoard. Somehow, she threw me on top of a triceratops and then got on herself, we were on top of the stampede, completely out of harm's way. The back of the huge lizard beast felt oddly comforting? I don't know how to describe it, but I took one last look at the girl which had seemingly saved my life, as I knew somehow that I would never see her again. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the bench, but this time i was neither in a dark and dreary field filled with flowers, nor in a desert filled with fossils and sand, but in a rainforest. The first thing I saw was the path, the same I was walking in the field, same slithering, cracked and sun-bleached asphalt, it stretched far into the rainforest. On the opposite side of the path from where I was sitting there was a ravine, a giant crack in the ground, spanning the whole side of the road, looking out over the gorge I saw countless rollercoasters, some looked brand new, some looked hundreds of years old, I saw a couple carts go by, none of them populated. As I trekked through the jungle, marshes, and surrealistic forests of flowers, I could feel I was almost at my goal. As I turned one last corner, I saw a house; it was small, yellow, with two stories and a small shed. But in the place where a door would usually be, there was a toilet instead, a normal white toilet made of porcelain.


Oswald readied himself to spend the night like every other, to sit on his bunk-bed and glare patiently out of his high window into the darkness of the pine woods beyond, to wait for one of the woodland creatures to trigger the lights and spark his imagination. The outside world fascinated him. A world he could see, but never truly touch. During the day he marvelled at the ever-green leaves and the thick grass onto which the pinecones fell. He wondered of their touch, their smell. The only scent familiar to Oswald was that of disinfectant. The most common touch? Cold disinfected chrome. Born with an immunodeficiency disorder he was unable to leave the confines of his home without a full-bodied and helmeted suit, for the slightest illness would come with a substantial risk of death. An only child, Oswald lived with his mother; she was everything to him: parent, friend, mentor, doctor, dentist, teacher, confidant. It was safer that way - cutting people out of their lives severed the risk of contamination, of infection, to negligible. Anything they required, they ordered. Any deliveries would be taken to the ‘cleaning room’, his mother's den (a converted garage adjoined to the kitchen) for thorough decontamination. Oswald wasn’t privy to the process. His father had left them both shortly after Oswald’s birth. ‘We were young,’ his mother had told him once, ‘and your father wasn’t ready, wasn’t able to make the sacrifices required to put you first, to give you everything you needed, and to keep you safe.’ The pain that leaked from his mother’s eyes, those all familiar icy-blue gems (in wonderful contrast to her jet-black hair) which ordinarily radiated nothing but affectionate warmth, invaded Oswald’s mind whenever he recalled her words. He had promised himself to never speak of his birth, their time in the hospital, or his father; she had suffered heartbreak and forsaken everything for him, the least he could do was spare her the torment of re-telling. Legs dangled over the side of his metallic-framed bunkbed with one foot rested on the ladder as Oswald stared out of the window. The darkness surrendered itself into a burst of illumination. Something had been caught in the trapping glow of the light. It had been a squirrel last night. His imagination still throbbed, pulsed with fantastical treetop adventures, daring to dream himself beyond the walls of his confinement - his sanctuary. He leaned forward in eager anticipation, edging for a better view; the window’s high position and slender shape framed a limited picture. Though nothing could be seen, the light remained to clue Oswald that whatever creature it was, lurked still. He waited, tried to fight the natural need to blink. Many anxious heartbeats passed before Oswald’s patience was vindicated. Surprise and raw joy rippled across Oswald’s face as though the vision had hit him flat on the nose; eyebrows rose, cheeks lifted outwards and lower jaw dropped open. A dog! A four legged, waggy-tailed, living, breathing dog. Other than on paper Oswald had never before seen a dog, nor had he dared dream he might. Enthralled, he watched it trot through the long grasses, stopping every now and then to sniff. With a sudden perk of the ears and a tilt of the head it bounded out of sight. Without warning, darkness reclaimed its territory. Filled with unbridled joy which soared above the rising flames of burning questions, Oswald lay back, just for a moment, to collect himself. Where had it come from? Whose was it? Does that mean there was someone there? Is it hungry? What is its name? Did I imagine it? Is this the best day of my life? He knew that the forest wasn’t completely wild. There were several paths that coursed through its many acres. But, according to his mother, the nearest of those was too deep through wood to be of concern. She didn’t want any stray person knocking on the door and touching things they shouldn’t. Though every surface was cleaned four times a day, she always said you never could be too careful. He desired to tell his mother, to share the joyous occasion with her, but feared what he would miss if he were to leave his post. I can tell her in the morning, start the day bright. The light did not return before Oswald succumbed to sleep. A distant shriek summoned Oswald from infant dreams. A fox he surmised, once his thoughts caught up with his ears. It wouldn’t be the first time a high-pitched bark had pulled him from his slumber. He had only ever dreamed of foxes, followed them to their dens of lost treasures and truths of the world. Sweeping his long dark hair to one side, he sat up, tried to open his eyes and flinched under a stab of pain. The outside light shone bright. He cast his blanket aside and shuffled down the bed to prop himself once more at the ladder. Brown eyes rubbed free of gunk and adjusted to the light, he stared once more at the illuminated carpet of grass and the front-row of bristly evergreens which twinkled as a breeze waved over them. A scene of tranquil beauty framed in PVC. A scene short-lived. Peace was broken as a slender form slyly emerged from the bottom of the frame. Auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail which trembled in the breeze. A vixen , thought Oswald innocently. He was drawn to her face: skin painted in grim pallor from the light; small lips, slightly agape; and wide-eyed. She looked worried - no, petrified. Desperation hewed over her face as she took a few steps back, dropped to her knees and begged. Weariness seeped out of Oswald’s every pore, replaced with a tide of adrenaline. He was locked in place, fully absorbed in the events which unfolded outside. His mother needed to know, he needed to tell her. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He could only watch. A second figure crept into the scene, hooded, their back to Oswald. Each step a methodical act of intimidation; a count-down of the Vixen’s life. Oswald remained transfixed and bore witness in silent, terrified shock. The hooded figure hoisted a club over their head with both hands, and obvious intent. Oswald’s heart tried in vain to hammer him into action, to call for help; each pulse drawn out as time slowed around him. Still, he did not move, could not claw his eyes from the assassination unfolding outside. A diagonal swing, the thrust of death, jolted events forward as time raced to correct itself. The Vixen’s head snapped to the left. Blood spewed. Teeth scattered. The body slumped in on itself, teetered, then dropped. The hooded figure looked up to the moonless sky, then turned. Oswald’s eyes locked with those of the assassin, face was obscured not only by the hood, but by a mask which covered the whole lower-half. They exchanged stares until, through lack of motion, the outside light went out. Darkness settled before Oswald leaped from his bed to charge from his room and tell his mother. Slipper-socked he stampeded over the landing, through the hallway, past the toy room and the study, and almost crashed through the bathroom door as he rounded the corner towards his mother’s room. He rushed straight-through the open door, and panic-stricken, shouted ‘Mum!’ as he launched himself onto her bed. A soft, springy, empty bed caught him with a bounce. ‘Mum?’ Sudden bewilderment gave way to boiled panic seasoned with fear, ‘Mummy?’. The walls soaked-up his screams, fed off them and whispered promises of lonely isolation. He curled into a ball and sobbed. So lost had he been in terror that Oswald didn’t hear the light switch, didn’t heed the reddish glow through closed eyes, and didn’t realise he was no longer alone until the hands were on him. They grabbed at his arms and tore them away from his chest. He felt something, someone, wrap around him. He was pulled tight. Embraced. ‘It’s OK, Baby. It’s OK.’ With a stuttered, whimpered breath - an end to the sobs - Oswald turned to face his mother. A heartening smile restored some of his resolve, as she gently caressed a tear from his face. ‘There was a... a... a Vixen... sorry... a woman... and she...’ Oswald recounted. His mother’s brows slanted downwards softly, an expression of loving concern as she listened to his tale. ‘Do you think you can be brave for me, and show me, if I put on the light?’ * * * ‘They were right there!’ Oswald pleaded. ‘You were dreaming, Baby.’ His mother offered with a smile; the words sharpened with a stern edge. ‘Maybe, yeah.’ She threw him a pointed look, ‘Yeah, you’re right. I must have been dreaming. Sorry Mum.’ She failed to catch the slight hesitation in his voice. ‘That’s alright, Baby. You get yourself off to sleep now.’ She marked her a hand-placed kiss to Oswald's forehead. Repeatedly clenched toes and fingers, little bouts of physical pain kept Oswald awake long-enough so that he felt sure his mother would be asleep. He was convinced it wasn’t a dream and he was determined to prove it, at least to himself. Hazard suit in hand, he crept downstairs; covert steps aided by the padded socks he had to wear. Carefully, he made his way through the dining area and living room to the back door. Quietly, he stepped into his suit, yanked it over his shoulders, pushed his arms into the gloved sleeves, slowly pulled up the zip and then secured his full-visored and sealed helmet. Tentatively, he turned the key, opened the door, and then stepped outside. Gripped with nerves, he held his breath as he edged deeper into the gloom. In any moment the light would flash into life. He took a couple more steps. Nothing. His mother must have completely turned it off earlier. It would make his search more difficult, but he would also be harder to spot. Doubt began to sprout as he scanned the empty darkness. It festered as he scoured the earth and combed through the grass for a tooth, anything to show it had been real. Eventually, he cultivated the doubt, questioned whether it was worth risking his life for. What was he thinking? What if it had been real? What then? He had sobbed when his mother wasn’t in her bed, what was he going to do against the masked killer? He was about to give up entirely and head back inside when a dim luminescence pried his attention to the front of the house. Carried by impulse he found his way to the garage, to the ‘cleaning room’ - the garage door floated ajar; a faint flicker of light escaped through the crack. Curiosity now guided him as he lifted the door enough to crawl under. It was the shrine that Oswald first noticed, illuminated as it was in candlelight; wax almost burnt-through. Pictures and what looked like notes adorned a wooden counter. He moved forward for a closer look but stopped short after skidding on something underfoot. Oswald positioned himself away from the shrine, allowing the waning flames to light up the obstacle. A long tuft of bloodied, red fur - no, hair; a ponytail? He feared to breathe, felt a sickness writhe within and threaten expulsion every time he was forced to take breath. Focus. He needed to focus. But on what? His eyes went once more to the shrine, the treasure his fox had delivered. He looked first to the pictures. A young blonde couple, smiling, a new-born in their arms; an incubator; the same baby riddled with wires and tubes; now unadorned, resting in a glass cot. Oswald’s attention shifted to the notes, to the papers. A birth certificate: ‘Oswald Jenkins, born to Mary Berger and Francis Jenkins on July 17, 1998...’ Mine . A death certificate: ‘July 19, 1998; Oswald Jenkins; Male; 2 days... infection’. 'She wanted to take you away from me.’ His mother, from the door to the kitchen, ‘They all want to take you away from me. I won’t let them. I won’t.’ Her eyes revealed nothing; hollow. ‘Wh-who am I?’ a haunted whisper. ‘You’re my little boy, you hear? Mine. I raised you. I cared for you. I loved you. Not them. Me! ’ She ran to him as she spoke, took his head in her hands, ‘You’re mine. You know that. You’re my little Os, and you always will be’.


[ I've never posted a story here before, so I don't really know the rules/proper format, so I'm just pasting it like this, if the wall of text intimidates you, just read the first paragraph to see if it sounds interesting ;) ] <IGNORE THE NUMBERS> Millennia: The alarm sounds, blaring in Joe’s ears. He sits up, coughing out breathing fluid and reaching for something to hold onto. Looking around, he sees that his cryo chamber [1] was covered by a fallen wall panel, that was pushed out of the way when his unit expanded. Climbing out, he notices that all the chambers nearby are smashed open, and each one contains a single human skeleton. He looks back at the computer mounted into his unit, and sees that the date reads: 02/07/9999. “What happened..” he thinks to himself, “we were supposed to automatically wake up by 2125”. The return journey from the Triton (a moon of Neptune) expedition would take 10 years maximum in their ship, the Lassel-15 [2], and the vessel left Triton atmosphere in 2115. Without any means of explanation for this anomaly, Joe discards this as a technical error. He throws on some clothes, and then heads towards the ships control center to investigate the alarm, and figure out what happened to the crew. Entering the cockpit, Joe sees the words “AUXILIARY POWER LOW” flashing on all screens. “How is this possible?” he exclaims, “the auxiliary power systems in the Lassel-15 are meant to keep the cryo chambers running for.. centuries” [3]. Walking up to the main observing window, he looks out expecting to see the blue-green planet he calls home, but is astonished at the scarred landscape below. From first glance, the Earth seems to be devoid of any oceans, and has clear volcanic activity across the black and brown surface. However, after doing a geological scan with the ship’s instruments, he sees that the Earth is even more devastated than he thought. To begin, the plate tectonics are nothing like they once were, millenia of boundary conditions converging, diverging, and transforming, have levelled all man made structures. They’ve also changed the shapes and sizes of both the oceanic and continental plates. As well, the planet has clearly been peppered with various meteorite impacts, leaving this world nearly incomparable to the Earth Joe remembers [4]. “Could I really have been stuck in cryo sleep for this long?” he wonders. Again, the alarm sounds and he remembers that if he can’t reroute the ship’s power systems, than the oxygen recycler [5] will turn off, and he will suffocate in minutes. Quickly he accesses the closest terminal, and brings up the ship's power distribution center. He sees that the majority of the solar collection units [6] are wasting generated power by sending it to the smashed cryo chambers. “Well I guess we don’t need those anymore..” he says, as he redirects the power to the life support systems, and survey apparatus [7]. The surface of the Earth is clearly too dangerous to explore on foot, so he sends an analysis probe [8] down to look for any sign of civilization. “While that’s away, perhaps I can piece together what happened to the rest of the crew” he exclaims, as he walks back towards the cryo hibernation wing. After inspecting each of the 32 cryo chambers, Joe realizes that he is the sole survivor of the Triton expedition. The entire ship is devoid of any human life, other than himself. However, on his way back to the control center, he notices something odd in the compartment where they store the collected survey samples from Triton. The blast door that seals that area, made of 3-inch thick titanium-aluminum alloy [9], has a large hole torn into the center of it. The edges of the door nearest to the hole have been bent outwards, as if it was torn through from the inside. Joe attempts to open the door remotely with a nearby terminal, but it's clearly too damaged to move. Instead he climbs inside the storage compartment, but is overwhelmed at what he finds inside. The storage compartment was designed with a blast door on the inside, so that the artificial atmosphere inside the ship wouldn't escape when the compartment is opened from the outside. This way samples and materials from the surface of Triton could be put directly onto the ship. However, the much larger blast door that connects the entire room to the outside of the ship, is covered in large, deep, gouge marks, similar to ones seen on the first blast door. On the floor inside the room, lays the massive skeleton of a creature much bigger than anything Joe has ever seen. The bone structure of this long dead corpse, is similar to that of an ant or other arthropod, only instead of being the size of a staple, it’s more comparable to that of a car. Bewildered at this sight, Joe recalls that the ship’s security systems have automated cameras, which will record any movement in the vessel. Dashing to the nearest terminal, Joe brings up the earliest recording since the crew entered cryosleep for the journey home. The first video is from inside the storage compartment, a few months after leaving Triton. A large boulder taken from the surface of Triton is shown shaking, and finally breaking open, to reveal the creature. “It was an egg!” Joe proclaims, as he watches it hatching. The videos show the creature exploring the compartment for a couple hours, and then tearing through the first blast door. This destruction reveals how Joe’s cryo chamber was covered by the wall panel, as the creature pounded on the blast door, the vibrations in the walls caused the panel to come loose and fall off, covering Joe’s unit entirely. The creature then explores the ship, tearing apart various computer systems, and after a few more days it slows down, presumably getting tired and hungry. Eventually, it finds the cryo hibernation wing, and begins to smash the chambers one by one, devouring the thawing and unconscious humans inside. However, the creature’s senses seem to be almost entirely visual based, as it doesn’t realize there is another chamber under the fallen wall panel in Joe’s section. [10] After almost a year of periodical smashing of cryo units and eating humans, the creature finally runs out of food, and retreats to the storage room. Here it gives one final effort to try and break out of the ship through the way it was brought in. It scratches, bites, and pounds at the second blast door, but it is too strong for the creature to break through. It lays down on the floor of the compartment, in the same position the skeleton is in, and dies of starvation. Joe is deeply saddened as he learns the fate of the crew, but he also realizes how lucky it was that he didn’t end up the way they did. He now understands why his unit didn’t open until the emergency power was low, because of the damage the creature did to the onboard automated computers. Deciding the best course of action is to try and find out what happened to the rest his species, he makes his way to the vehicle bay, where the survey probe has just returned. Joe reaches the vehicle bay and immediately accesses the probes data. To begin, the automated radiometric dating information collected by the probe, shows that there has been no fossil records for approximately 15’000 years, and they stopped appearing exactly 350 years after the Triton expedition was planned to return. This means that humans have either gone extinct, or left the planet sometime near the end of the 24th century. The data also reads that the carbon dioxide content within the living organisms on the planet increased exponentially until this time [11]. “Could this be what caused the humans to disappear so suddenly?” Joe wondered. He tries to think of any possible place where a record of what happened to the humans might have survived on the planet for all this time, but he realizes it’s impossible. Everything built on the Earth has been long destroyed by now, and he begins to think there may be no hope left of finding his species. “Wait.. the space station.. orbiting high above all this destruction.. maybe it’s still up here?”. Back in the control center, Joe uses the ship's scanners to look for the largest objects orbiting the Earth 300-500 kilometres high [12]. He finds one reading, and inputs the instructions for the Lassel-15 to automatically move in and match its orbit. The ship shudders as the massive ion engines start up [13] for the first time in thousands of years. Remarkably, the automated flight systems are still intact after the creature demolished so many computer systems, and the ship begins its adjustments to reach the object. After an hour of flight, the ship positions itself 50 metres behind the object, and Joe moves toward the observing window to see what it is. While it is the space station, it’s not how Joe remembers it. With developments in space exploration technology throughout the centuries while Joe was frozen, humanity has clearly added to and modified the original ISS into something very different. It now is over 10x its original size, and includes large docking bays similar to the vehicle bay found in the Lassel-15. He can also see clear decompression sections where astronauts would be able to enter the station from a space walk without the need for docking. Joe tries to instruct the computer to dock with the station, but the automated docking systems are too damaged to work properly. “I guess I'll have to stretch my legs” Joe mutters, as he pulls on a space suit. After he is all geared up, he enters the decompression room and prepares to leave the ship. The room makes a loud noise like a vacuum, and then the door opens. Joe equips a stability assistance pack [14], and jets his way towards the station. Reaching the decompression section, he looks for a latch or type of door to enter, but instead finds an entirely empty wall, seemingly leaving the station open to the vacuum of space. Upon entry, Joe immediately notices technology he’s never imagined. As he floats into the station, the lights turn on, and he falls to the floor. He hears a loud, robotic voice say: “Welcome Joe, it’s been 9, 9, 9, 9, days since your last visit. Feel free to take off your spacesuit”. It seems impossible, but somehow the spot he entered from was actually a door, creating an invisible barrier between the ship and the vacuum of space, that he could pass through safely. As well, the ship is somehow generating its own artificial gravity [15], which is also contained by the invisible door. As Joe walks through the interior of the station, he sees many posters and signs saying things like “Journey to Planet X, where your new home awaits”. “Planet X?.. I’ve never heard of any Planet X before..” says Joe. He finally reaches the main data terminal, and begins looking through the latest entries. He finds one labelled: Planet X Advert which he plays. A suited man walks into screen on a planet that Joe has never seen. The man says: “Climate change is causing our planet to have an unhealthy atmosphere, and we’re running out of fossil fuels. Why not come to Planet X? It’s just a couple years in cryosleep away, here the atmosphere is recycled to ensure the freshest air, and all the energy you need is generated by our state of the art thermal generators deep in the planet's core. You’ll never go hungry with all the food you could ever need grown right here in our bio-domes, and our 100% sustainability means there’s no limit to how long you can stay. And of course, everything is run and maintained by our newly developed AI systems, so you won’t have to work at all! The future is now, come join us”, the video ends [16]. “They’ve.. all left. my entire species has found a new home without me” he thinks, “Why didn’t they come wake me up? Did they forget I was orbiting just above their heads all those years?”. Joe doesn’t know what to do, he has no safe planet to return to, and there's not enough supplies on the Lassel-15 or the ISS to sustain him for the rest of his life. It looks like this could be it, until Joe sees another entry on the terminal. It reads: Final Migration From Earth. He opens the file, and sees that it contains the information regarding the last ship to leave Earth and go to Planet X, including the specific trajectories of Planet X’s extremely elliptical orbit [17]. “With this I might be able to reach them..” he says, hoping that they are still there after all this time. He downloads the information to a data key, puts on his space suit, and jets back to his ship. Once on board, he enters the coordinates of Planet X’s current location, and sets the ship to autopilot itself there. Because the journey would take decades, Joe decides to reprogram his cryo chamber to automatically open once the ship arrives. However, before settling in once more, he makes sure to jettison all the survey samples collected from Triton, just for good measure. He then lays down in his unit, hearing a soft click as it closes, and falls asleep. As it did once before, Joe’s unit pops open, and he is pleasantly surprised not to hear any blaring alarms in his ears this time. He gets dressed, and then excitedly walks down to the control center to see Planet X for the first time. He is slightly concerned when he looks out the window to see a very barren, cold planet, with no visible signs of humans living anywhere on it [18]. But as the planet rotates on it’s axis, it reveals a massive civilization built onto the surface. “They are still here.. I can finally see another human being again” he mutters, filled with optimism. Joe is about to get into a landing craft and head down to the surface [19], when something on the ship’s arrival scans catches his eye. It reads: Heat Signatures Detected: 0. Too eager to reach the planet, Joe ignores this and assumes it’s just another malfunction from the damage the creature did. He boards a landing craft, and flies down towards the planet. On the way down, the craft picks up a radio signal. Joe connects to the frequency, and hears the same voice he heard on the ISS say: “Hello Joe, it’s good to see you again, please go to the marked landing pad”. A marker shows up on the HUD of the cockpit [20] and Joe heads towards it. As the ship touches down, a tunnel extends from the massive facility built into the side of the planet, and connects to the landing craft’s door. Joe is so happy to know that his species is ok and he can finally see someone again, that he runs down the tunnel the moment the door opens. He gets to the end finding another door, and as he walks up to it he can't help but remember how the ship said there were no heat signatures on the planet, and that voice he heard was automated too. “Oh well” he thinks, “that commercial said that the AI does everything for them right?”. The door opens, and Joe looks into the facility, to see hundreds of humanoid robots standing, looking at him [21].


cw: gore, blood, language Finally made it to the flower shop. It took a few wrong turns to finally arrive. I step out of my car and look at the sign, "Bonnies Flower Shop". It was a bit difficult to find since I am new to this small town. I close the door to my car and make my way up to the store. I'm not sure what I am looking for today, just something for my wife Nemy. She is a plant fanatic, our new house is already covered in all kinds of plants and flowers. Her birthday is coming up so I figured I would try and get a plant she doesn't have. I open the door to the flower shop; the earthy smell hits my nose right away. I look around at all the flowers, all ranging from different heights, colors, smells, looks. This is going to be harder than I thought it would be. I start walking down the aisles looking at all the plants. I want to find the perfect one. I really just don't know which one would be a perfect pick. I hear footstep come my way. "Anything I can help you with dear?" I look over at a small elderly lady and smile, "I'm not really sure what I'm looking for." She comes closer, "Looking for anyone specific?" "My wife. Turns out trying to find a flower she doesn't have is quite troublesome." Her eyes light up, "You're the couple that moved into that old cottage just outside the city, right?" Guess the word travels fast in small towns. I nod my head "Yes Ma'am we are." "Come I have the perfect thing. She wouldn't happen to have any Cherry Blossoms Trees, would she?" Cherry blossoms? Those didn't even cross my mind. I start to follow her, "No I don't think she does actually." We walk into a different room; this one is closed off from the rest of the shop. I look at the beautiful arrange of small cherry blossom trees. "What do you think?" These would be perfect for Nemy. I smile at her, "I will take one." "Alright remember what I told you?" "Keep it in doors for a few weeks, water it and give it sunlight. Then transfer it outside where we would like and watch it grow." I repeated the conversation we had while she was checking me out. She gives me a rather creepy smile. I'm not one to judge others but that smile but a little bit of fear into me. I let out a small huff and grabbed the plant. "Well, I appreciate the help! I'll let you know how it goes." "Oh, I know how it will turn out." I let out an awkward laugh, "Bye!" I put the tree in the front seat and figured out my way home. What a strange lady, I shouldn't worry about it. She did help me get the perfect plant. I finally get home, "Honey I'm home." "In the kitchen." I put the plant behind my back and make my way to the kitchen. I turn the corner and see her cooking something on the stove. She finally turns around and gives me a skeptical look, "What's behind your back?" "Close your eyes." She closes them and I pull round the tree, "Open them." She opens them and they immediately light up, "Happy Birthday Love." "Oh Kit!" She walks over to me and touches the plant. "It's absolutely beautiful." "Good because I wasn't sure until the lady showed it to me." She gives me a tight hug and a peck on the lips. "I love it, Thank you so much. You're the best husband a woman could ask for!" She grabs the tree and puts it on the middle of the dining room table. "We shall eat with it tonight and I’ll put it in the window tomorrow.” She makes both of our plates as we sit down and talk. “Did you find the shop alright?” I finish my bite, “You already know that answer.” She giggles and looks at the tree, “It really is beautiful dear.” As soon as she said it my mind flashed to that elderly lady. Something was off at the end of our interaction. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I open my eyes as soon as I hear that sound. It’s a horrible screeching noise that spreads through the house. It’s been going on for a few weeks and we can’t figure out what it is. I swear it happened over 100 times, especially at night. Nemy thinks it is just because our house is old but there is no way that’s the reason. I’ve tried convincing myself it’s no big deal but when it goes on for this long something has to be up. I pull the blankets from my body and swing my feet over the bed. They hit the cold hard floor and the sound stops. What the heck! I get up quietly making sure I don’t wake Nemy. I make my way through the house to make sure everything seems alright. I make my way into the kitchen not having found anything. It’s strange the noise stopped as soon as I was about to check it out. I pull out a cup from the cabinet and fill it up with water. I lean against the counter and look out the window. Oh god, we’re going to have to move that Cherry Blossom Tree out tomorrow, it is growing onto our walls. I told Nemy a week ago to move it outside and she insisted it was fine. Said “I’m the plant expert right?” I roll my eyes remembering what she said. I get it but like it’s growing on our wall it shouldn’t do that. I finish my cup of water and wash the cup and head back to bed. I snuggle up next to Nemy and close my eyes. “eerrrreee” I groan, I swear someone or something is just messing with me. I stare out the window as Nemy is planting the tree. I finally convinced her to do it. I don’t know why she was so against it. I’m literally following what the lady said to do. I will admit the tree looks beautiful out there. Fits in more than I expected with all her other plants. I go back to making some Chicken Alfredo for dinner. I finished it about 45 minutes later. Nemy hasn’t come back yet. Which isn’t weird, I swear she spends more time with her plants than her own husband. I walk to the window again and see her still by the tree. I open the back door and call for her, “Honey dinner is ready.” No response. I make my way over to her and look down at her. Oh god, “Honey!” I say kneeling beside her and grabbing her arm. It’s covered in blood, “What the hell happened?” She doesn’t respond to me, “Nemy!” I raise my voice a bit louder. She slowly looks at me, “What?” “What happened?” I ask, nodding my head towards her arm. She looks at her arm and gasp, “Oh my god.” I look at her confused. I sigh and stand up, “come in, Ill clean you up.” I get her inside and start to clean her cut, luckily it’s not that deep. I wrap it up and look at her. “What happened?” She shakes her head, “I don’t know.” “You don’t know how you got a big cut on your arm?” “No Kit I don’t.” She says with a bit of an attitude. “I’m just asking Nemy, it’s weird for someone to not know how they cut themselves that’s big.” “Well I fucking don’t.” I back up, throwing my hands up. “Dinners done anyways come on before it gets too cold.” She shakes her head, “I’m not hungry, I'm going to lay down.” I guess I'm eating by myself tonight. Nemy has been acting weird lately. Like she’s avoiding me by staying with her plants. I caught her talking to herself, which is totally normal, but she was mumbling in like different language. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. I plan on talking to her tonight to see what the deal is. I walk outside to where she is. Swear she is always out here by this dang tree. If i knew the cherry blossom would be such a perfect plant that it takes my wife from me I would have never gotten it. I take a seat by her on the ground and look at her. She doesn’t even acknowledge that I am here. I sit here a bit before I speak, “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” “Nothing.” She tells me in a soft voice. “You’ve been acting differently lately. I'm getting worried about you. You're always out here.” “Is that such a bad thing? She needs me.” I look at her confused “Who?” She doesn’t respond to me but instead points towards the tree. I shake my head, “honey it’s a plant, it thrives outside. It doesn’t need supervision 24/7.” “She needs me.” She keeps repeating. What the hell is she on about? I look at the tree, it looks a bit darker, like a reddish color. Aren’t they supposed to be mainly pink and white? “I don’t understand Nemy.” She slowly turns her head towards me, “you will know soon.” She suddenly pushes me down onto the ground. I start to panic, “Nemy what the hell?” “She needs us.” I start to panic, when did she get so damn strong. I start to feel something crawl up my limbs. I turn my head to see vines wrapping around my arms. This isn’t happening right? No, there's no way this can happen. I have to be dreaming. I look back at Nemy and her eyes are red. I squeeze my eyes closed in hope of waking up from this dream. I start to hear her laughing. I open my eyes back up. This is not a dream, it’s a nightmare. I start to realize what is happening. I try to fight my way out of the vines grip that have me. “Don’t fight dear.” I feel Nemy's hands on me. “She needs you to survive. She needs your blood to create so much more.” “It’s a fucking plant Nemy. Please listen to me. Cut me out of these vines.” She shakes her head, “It’s for the better.” She leans down and pecks my lips. “It will be over soon.” I start to feel a stinging pain all over. I look over at one of my arms and see a bunch of little thorns piercing my skin. “NEMY! STOP THIS!” She just smiles at me, “for the better darling, remember.” I start to feel dizzy, “please Nemy.” I see a single tear run down her face. “I have to Kit. New beginnings.”


"There she goes. Thinking she's so perfect just because she has a nice body." "I can't stand her, she's always so happy, there's nothing to be that happy about." "Why can't I have the perfect body and smile? Why can't I wear clothes like that?" So many thoughts raced through Liana's head. She was never content with herself, and never present in the moment. You could be talking to her but she would not hear you. Her mind constantly fighting to hear what you were saying yet wondering why that person couldn't stop staring at her. It must have been her stomach, or it must have been that she was just so tall, like a giant. Throughout her entire childhood and teenage years she was always stuck. Stuck in a place where she was trying to be a person who she clearly was not. Every time she expressed her creativity it was shot down. "Why are you so weird? Why do you wear your hair like that?" She didn't realize those were the voices of people who were hurt and wanted to hurt her to feel better about themselves. Third grade through seventh, she had no friends, just people who would stare at her and laugh. She never spoke to anyone, she'd would walk through the hallways with her eyes on the floor. If she made eye contact with anyone, she would quickly look away. She always sat in the furthest seat back, you see, she didn't want to block anyone's view and hear them complain loudly, "I can't see over this giant!". In the eighth grade she met Sarai, a beautiful girl who she became best friends with. Liana always kept up with Sarai's favorite colors, her favorite food, even the way she ate it. She became obsessed with the way Sarai dressed, and even started to wear makeup like her. If there was a favorite show Sarai had, you'd better believe Liana was on top of it too. "Why can't you just be yourself?" Sarai asked. "You don't have to dress like me or act like me. Just be you, and don't worry about what others have to say. They are not happy with themselves so they project that onto you, don't let them win." Liana didn't understand. Her feelings were hurt every time someone ridiculed her for the way she looked. Whether it was her big curly hair, the gap between her two front teeth, or the fact that she was taller than everyone in the school, it was always something. Someone was always pointing at her and laughing. You see, Liana was not only ridiculed at school, but also at home. She was always told that she was not pretty, and that she was too fat. Surely Sarai could not understand the way Liana felt. Sarai was beautiful, she stood about five foot four, beautiful long and straight hair, her nose was shaped perfectly and her teeth perfectly straight. She had a beautiful white smile and a perfectly proportioned body. Nobody had ever made fun of her, in fact, all the boys loved her and she had many girl friends. She didn't even have to try, people just wanted to be her friend. She was physically and spiritually beautiful, never judged anyone, she was best friends with Liana, the ugliest girl in the school. Despite Sarai knowing that Liana wanted to be just like her, she still loved her unconditionally, like a best friend should. They went everywhere together, and she always hyped up Liana's ideas. They went on to be friends until the day they graduated high school. Sarai married her high school sweet heart and had children, so she didn't have much time to spend with her friend. Liana started taking pictures and editing them, posting them online and getting into dating websites. She looked for male validation. She craved attention, and would stop at nothing to get it. This led to many heart breaks and wounds. When she turned 23 she realized that everyone around her was happy and she wondered why she couldn't be as happy as they were. At 24 Liana met a man named Don & that is when she realized all she wanted to do was be herself. She didn't want to lie anymore, she didn't want to pretend to be someone who she was not. She wanted to be her truest self so that this man would love her for who she truly was, not who she pretended to be. Don taught her to meditate and taught her that if she wanted to be at peace, she must clear her conscience. Not only that, but she had to forgive. She had to forgive herself and forgive those who hurt her. Through many tears and lonely months, Liana fought to silence the voices in her head. She realized that it was never about silencing the voices, but sorting them out. She needed to talk to herself out loud so that she could make sense of them. The more Liana dedicated time to herself, and less time to social media, she became peaceful. She started to glow, and she started to love herself. Something she had never felt. She had to accept that she was made unique by God, and that she had to release the thoughts that others put into her head. That she did. She started talking to herself and everything started to make sense. She sat on her living room floor every morning and gave thanks to God for waking her up. Her chest felt lighter, and she could finally have a conversation with Don, giving him her full and undivided attention. She could finally sit in a room full of people, and be the only one smiling. She was happy, you could feel her energy when she walked into a room. Her glow was immaculate, the more she became in tune with herself, the more she was able to help others get out of their shell. Liana continues to walk through this world, but now when people look at her, she knows it's because she is beautiful. When she talks, you can hear her smile. She learned to love herself and because of this she was able to let her cup overflow into the hearts of others. Such a kind soul was masked behind anger for her entire life. Liana realized that many of the people she thought were happy, actually were not. They did not understand true peace and self acceptance. Those people pretended to have perfect lives because they did not want to be left behind by their friends. That could have been her, moving through life pretending to love it but secretly wanting to die. Many people are angry just because she is happy, they wonder, "How can she be so happy? What is there to be so happy about?". Now that she knows this, she accepts and loves all people, because that used to be her. Angry at other peoples happiness and success. You must look within yourself for your peace, don't depend on others. You must learn to let go of people, even the people you love. To reach true peace, all your love must be given to yourself. Only then will you truly be happy. Accept your mistakes, and forgive yourself for them, and always make a conscious effort to become better than you were five minutes ago. When there is nothing left to fix in you, then help others fix themselves.


Changing Track The water was surprisingly cold, and the current more swift than expected. But it was only a small river, running a little high because of the summer rains. It carried him downstream maybe a hundred yards, before he hit a backwater. From there it was an easy swim to shore. Over some large boulders, up a small cliff, and he was on the mesa top, walking north. After the first mile or so, his feet began to feel a little tender in the wet shoes. He sat down in the dirt to put on dry socks, getting his stll damp Wranglers muddy. Usually immaculately dressed in custom tailored suits, he laughed at the contrast. Ol’ Muddy Butt, that’s me . He broke into a jog. Six miles, then seven. The heat of the summer day made him thirsty. The lack of his usual ration of bourbon was nauseating. He scraped away the pebbles under a large sagebrush, and lay down, head in the shade. The sky was such a brilliant blue that even with his dark glasses, it almost hurt to look at it. He closed his eyes. The tickle of little ant feet on his arm woke him. He tried to jog again, but the nausea was so severe that he was on his knees vomiting before he got very far. In the distance, he could see a dark band of trees in a fold of the hills. Get up and go, wimp . But the muscular body he worked so hard to mainain was shaky, weak, every cell yearning for the 160 proof anesthetic to which it had long been accustomed. He lay back down, imagining the warm soil drawing the alcohol out of him, leaving him in peace. Even in the desert, nights can be cold. The chill woke him this time. The moon had risen, giving enough light for avoiding rocks and brush. He was so dry that his lips were stuck to his teeth. There were pools of spring water up there, in the canyon, under the trees. Finishing the water in his camel pack, he walked on as the sky began to turn dove grey, then sunrise orange. A large flat rock beside the spring was the perfect seat. But it was occupied. The fat rattler, was almost invisible, it’s brown and tan scales blending with the mottled shade under the trees. If it had not lifted that broad triangular head, he might have missed it. He broke a dead branch from a uniper tree, and poked at the snake. It give a warning rattle, tongue flicking out, and struck, hurling half the length of it’s body toward him. Leaping to the side, he laughed. “Come on, big boy. Beat it.” Two more unsuccessful strikes, and the snake conceded the field, disappearing down a small arroyo. “So, Enrique,” the man said out loud, “that was incredibly stupid. What am I trying to prove? July would say that I am an idiot, and she is right.” He sighed. Would he ever be able to change enough to be the man she deserved? He had tried, but bourbon and loose girls had been his solace for so long. Over the years, he had arrested dozens of men who had fallen into the same trap. He knew it. He could see it plain as day. It was a behavior pattern that led to nothing but a lonely, bitter end in a bar fight, or an auto accident─or suicide. He settled on the rock, removed shoes and socks. and dipped bare feet in the cool water of a little pool. The trickling spring re-filled his camel pack. Steriizing tablets would make it drinkable in a little while. He rummaged in his pack for a slice of jerky, holding it between cheek and teeth so it would last longer, giving him the illusion that it was an adequete meal. He had done this many times in his youth, but now, at forty-five, what had satisfied his fifteen-year-old body seemed woefully inadequate. “Damn it, July, you little brat! You drove me to this, and you don’t even know it. Now here I am, talking to myself in the wilderness like the nutcase I am trying not to be.” The sun warmed his back. It would be hot soon. He would stay in this canyon as long as possible. It went deep into the mountains, taking him close to his goal. Socks and shoes on, pack slung on his back, he started jogging again. The noon day sun dazzled his eyes even through his dark aviators. Sweat gathered around his waist band and plastered his shirt to his back. His breathe was beginning to whistle through his teeth. Not as good shape as I thought I was. The narrow deer path was steep, climbing up the canyon-side. A rock rolled under his foot, and he slipped, tumbling down the long, rough slope. There was a flash of light, and then nothing. He woke, hearing someone grunting in pain. It took a minute for him to realize that was him, wasn’t it? Someone was kicking him, and there was a voice. “Get up, grandson. Get up.” “What? Grandfather?” He tried to roll over in the rocks, but his ribs! Ay de mi, as his mother would say. He drew a few shallow breaths. Okay, not serious, just painful. And no one’s kicking me, especially not my grandfather. He would have laughed at himself if it didn’t hurt so much. Hell, he had never even met old Iron Horse, who had died more than sixty years ago. Even Enrique’s dad barely remembered his famous father, the warrior, the hero of World War One. “Okay, Mora, get up. Enough with the weird hallucinations.” He struggled to rise, and eventually made it. He thought about turning back. He wanted to turn back. But July worried about his drinking, and he was not going to ask her to marry a drunkard. One slow step after another, he climbed higher. His grandfather’s people had lived in these canyons and mountains for untold generations, and as a boy, he had spent many, many days and nights in this wild land. But since his Army days, he had been wrapped up in career and booze and girls, sometimes forgetting this real world of rocks and trees and wildlife. This was his real home, not the apartment in the city. He paused to catch his breath, holding an arm tight to his side to ease the pain in his ribs. Thud, thud, thud. His pulse pounded in his ears. And there was something else. He cocked his head, listening. It sounded like a drum beat. Tap, tap, tap . He snorted. “Imagining things again. Did I hit my head that hard?” He climbed on. Thud, tap. Thud, tap. His feet moved in the same rhythm. Gradually, he sensed another presence. Was that a moccasined foot beside his? Did that bee just speak to him? He understood what it said. A doe, drinking from a pool, wished him a safe journey, then bent to drink again. It was sunset when he reached the meadow at the top of the mountain. He collected a small stash of tinder, and using his bifocals, focused the sun’s final rays on the dry grass and twigs. It only took a minute before there was a wisp of smoke. He blew gently until a small flame caught hold, and chuckled. His mother had always gotten after him for doing this, afraid that in his youthful carelessness, he might start a wildfire some day. There were dead branches everywhere. He broke a few into shorter lengths and soon had a nice little fire going on a bare spot of ground. Once it burned down to coals, he would spread them out so the warm ground could help him sleep through the coming cold night. Jerky, dried fruit, and a handful of Oreos served for dinner. He sat on a log watching the night come on as tiny lights, almost like fireflys, began to sparkle in the town far below. There was a rustling in the brush along the little creek. Something big rolled a rock. He sat prefectly still, barely breathing. Many predators lived in these woods, wild as they were, and he was unarmed. In a minute, a big bull elk stepped into the meadow, raising it’s muzzle, sniffing the human scent. The antlers were still in velvet, but breeding season was coming on, and even in velvet, those antlers were lethal weapons. It took a dozen steps toward him. There was no logical solution here. He coudn’t out run an elk. The fire was almost out, so there was no flaming branch to scare it away. He rose, spreading open hands in the universal sign of peace. “Hello, brother. I am just visiting. I’ll be gone at first light.” It snorted and stepped closer. He swallowed convulsively, wondering if this was it, a bloody end to his pitiful life. But as they regarded each other, fear faded, and a sense of peace came to him. Of course. I’m hallucinating. Just an old drunk hallucinating. He mocked himself and looked away, then back. The elk was still there, and it’s eyes seemed to twinkle. It was just the reflection from starlight on leaves or something, of course, but somehow.... He woke to the twittering of little pine siskins in the tree tops. It had been a cold night, but the warm ground and his reflective emergency tarp had kept him warm enough. What crazy dreams I had yesterday. That’s what too much booze does to you, I guess. He yawned and stretched. There was a sudden noise, and he spun around to see the elk still there. It gave a soft whistling grunt, a farewell, and disappeared into the brush. Stunned, confused, he stood there in silence as the sun rose, touching his face, warming his body, penetrating his soul. He mentally shook himself. Stop trying to figure it out. But he knew something big had happened. He had changed. He felt whole, strong, in control. He could be powerful, like that old bull elk, like he was before all the booze and bar girls. Maybe he could be the right man for July after all. He smiled. That was totally weird. I have never had such a vivid dream. It was almost like a real elk shared his strength, or wisdom, or whatever with me. He chuckled, bending to wash his face in the creek. And there, in the soft soil by his knee, were the perfect dual crescents of an elk hoof print, so fresh that water was still seeping into them.


“As you're advisors, it's our duty to be as beneficial to you as possible. But it's your job to schedule appointments with us well in advance of enrollment dates” Frank calmly said to a room filled with students, it seemed like he had given the same speech thousands of times. As he was about to continue with the lecture, his new colleague, Mike, cleared his throat. “Just piggy-backing off of what Frank said, I want to mention that our offices are open 24/7 and we're ALWAYS here for you guys with anything. I mean it. We don't wanna be those lame advisors you probably thought we were gonna be! Haha...” Mike said directly after Frank was done speaking, almost cutting him off from his next thought. He had a nervous smile and looked to young to be advising anything, let alone students with their future careers resting on his decisions. “I’m just going to expand a little bit on what Mike said by mentioning we're definitely not in the office 24/7 and our advising will be limited to scholastics” Said Frank, with a little more sternness in his voice this time. What the hell is this new kid doing? Trying to embarrass me? He looks different in person than on the staff website... Frank had a progression of thoughts to himself; he felt like he was being played, but at the same time Mike looked so familiar to him. All that being said, he was not willing to show any signs of weakness in front of the 2000 plus audience of students. He knew first hand that kids will feed off of weakness. “Again.. If I may” Mike started gaining confidence, “piggy-backing off of what Frank said, you guys should come to us with whatever’s bothering you, that's what we're for! Oh, your boyfriend cheated on you with your ex BFF, we'll take care of that bitch! Your roommate caught you masturbating to anime porn? My office can be your new porn sanctuary!” The crowd stirred, most kids were laughing. The floor was Mike’s, his plan was finally working, now to have a bit of fun with it... “Let's say maybe you and your friends got a little too crazy on a Friday night and you don't have a place to crash? I got a pull out couch and a stash of weed hidden in my room- at your disposal!” Mike was now grinning from ear to ear. His young age, which was cleverly concealed behind a grim face, came out for the audience to inspect. In that moment he looked younger than half of the kids he was lecturing to. Frank knew he lost all of the respect he had with the students in the room. It made him physically sick. He would have punched Mike in the face and kicked his teeth in if there wasn’t a whole audience watching. How dare someone take all the power from under his feet, he could feel his knuckles tensing, his muscles flexing, his face was beat red. In a moment of clarity and stupidity, he realized Mike didn’t look a day older than anyone in the audience. “PEOPLE PLEASE, do not listen to Mike, he is clearly in a bad state right now” he motioned to turn Mike’s microphone off but was too slow. The audience was in chaos as a loud voice came bursting through the reception halls main sound system. “TO JUST PIGGYBACK OFF OF THAT STATEMENT FRANK, ID LIKE TO SAY TO THE CLASS OF 2018 THAT MIKE HAS TWO-DOLLAR JELLO SHOTS ON THE STAGE. LETS GET READY TO RAGE!” The crowd erupted in applause to this unfamiliar voice. Frank was still seated in his chair, with a center stage view to the madness. He was starring with awe at his previous colleague, and to his own disbelief, Frank was finally able to recognize Mike. He stared at the boy who stripped him of his power, not with hatred but with love. It was his son. Frank woke up from the nightmare and pressed his head against the pillow hard, stuffing his face on the silk. Just at that moment, his two children, 5- year-old Sophie and 18-year-old Mike entered the room. The smell of bacon followed them in and pierced through the bedroom door to his nose. “Dad, where are the suitcases? I figure I should probably start packing soon if I’m leaving in a week” Mike said to his father. Frank got up and hugged both of his children, surprising them. On his way to eat breakfast he gave Sofia a piggyback ride.


Two of our own and one of O’Riley’s goons are dead in an alleyway on Ludlow and Canal, and the only witness we have is some street kid who says he didn’t see anything. At least, that’s what I think he said. Couldn’t take him to the station - it’s crawling with crooked cops who’ll tip off the family before we even get the cuffs off. Had to do it in a warehouse down the road and had to call in Mulroney. He’ll get this egg to crack. “Whadda we got,” Mulroney said. “Neighborhood kid,” I replied. “Not giving us his name, and he’s got no ID.” “So make him talk.” “I’ve been trying.” “And.” “And he’s *been* talking. But-” “But what?” “He only responds to me in Martin Scorcese projects.” “What do you mean?” “Like he responds to everything we ask with the name of something directed by Martin Scorcese. And I gotta say, it’s crazy how so many of his titles fit standard police questions.” “Alright, Thompson. Hand me a smoke and meet me in there. I’ll take care of this.” Mulroney approached the door of the makeshift interrogation room and gave it a few taps. “Who’s That Knocking at my Door?” I saw Mul throw on and off a confused look in a split second, but it didn’t phase him. Consummate professional, this guy. “Name’s Detective Mulroney, and I want to ask you about what you saw.” He pulls a chair up next to the kid. “But first, I just want you to tell me about yourself.” “Italianamerican.” “Alright. What else? What age are you?” “The Age of Innocence.” You can see when it clicked for Mulroney. “Where do you live?” “New York, New York.” “What do you do?” “Taxi Driver.” “Motherf-” Mulroney’s met a lot of hard-boiled eggs doing this job, but this kid’s a full 20 minutes. He’ll get through. The detective’s been here before. I mean, not in this specific situation. “Let’s move on to why we’re talking to you. I want you to tell me what happened back there. In as much detail as possible.” “Gangs of New York. Silence.” "Who was silent?" "The Irishman." “Okay...anything else? You do know I’ve got dead officers on my hands. Two great men.” “Goodfellas.” “This some joke to you? I’m dealing with five of these a night in this city.” “Mean Streets.” His patience was razor thin. He was ready to charge the kid, like some kind of raging bu- Suddenly Mulroney lit up with an idea. “How about we go with something simple? Can you give a description of the person that killed O’Riley’s man or the cops? What was...the color of his shirt?” “The Color of Money.” “Alright, good. What time did this dust-up go down? While people were still working at the bank next door?” “After Hours.” “Okay, okay. Good. Thompson, you writing this down?” “What else, kid?” I hand Mulroney the bullet shell I picked up at the site. “You know where this would come from, kid? Can you see it alright?” “Shine a Light.” The flashlight beam bathed the table and casing in a soft white glow. The kid picked up the shell. “Made in Milan.” “Alright, we can trace back the bullet manufacturer and see which gang has the connection. But how could a kid like you know that?” “My Voyage to Italy.” Always leave it to Mulroney to turn this cold case white hot again. But before we get anything else out, we heard a loud smash from the back door. “Damn - sounds like O’Riley’s boys coming to collect a trophy. Thompson, if we hold them off long enough, the kid can get out the side door.” “Sure thing.” “Kid, you gotta leave. I need you to meet me at the 14th Precinct tomorrow at noon. Any family you can go to in the meantime?” “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.” “Man, that’s annoying in this particular situation. Mul, what should we do?” “Just get out of here, kid. Thompson, get ready for a fight.” “No,” the kid said. I furiously racked my brain for Martin’s filmography, but I got nothing. Wait, I got nothing. “Hugo,” the kid said. “I’ll stay.” I’ve never forgotten the calmness of that kid’s face, or the embrace between him and Mulroney. Like a father watching his son become a man. There was no time to soak it in. One brave kid showing a lifetime of courage in a single moment. So just like that, we departed.


Once upon a time there was a boy named Edward running around town with his friends, Carl and Jack. As they were doing so, Edward suggested going to the local sledding hill to relax and maybe run down it a few times. The other two agreed in unison, heading there immediately. After 10 minutes, they arrived at the hill, and talked for a little. Edward was tired after walking to the hill, so he said he would catch up. Carl suggested a race to the top of the hill, which Jack agreed to. Carl asked Edward to count down from 3 so that neither of them could start too early doing it themselves. Edward obliged, counting down and making sure neither started too early. Once he shouted go, Carl and Jack practically flew up the hill, like a plane lifting off a runway. Jack held the advantage most of the way up until Carl ran past, before starting to run back down. Jack tripped, and was tumbling his way down the hill. The boys had never thought it could happen to somebody close to them. They just thought it was an adult thing. They knew it could happen to anyone at anytime, but they didn’t know it would happen to one of them so soon. But it did. It happened to Jack. They didn’t know how to react when they were told what happened to Jack. There was too many emotions for the boys to handle. Confusion, sadness, surprise and anger hit the 2 at once. After 15 minutes of pure silence from the two, they demanded to see Jack. They were told no and tried again. After another no, the boys gave up, and went back to being silent. Edward thought he was to blame for what happened to Jack. He was the one who suggested to go there in the first place, and if he wasn’t tired and went up the hill with Jack, he could have helped him. He thought he was a monster for bringing the 2 others to the hill. Making Carl watch his friend tumble down a hill was his fault, he thought. He decided that nobody deserved to talk to him, the monster responsible for the death of Jack. Carl thought he was to blame for what happened to Jack. He was the one who suggested a race up the hill, and he didn’t help the tumbling Jack. He thought he was a monster for bringing the two others to the hill. Making Edward watch his friend tumble down the hill was all his fault, he thought. He decided that nobody deserved to talk to him, the monster responsible for the death of Jack. After that day on the hill, the three boys practically disappeared from society. In the end, the boys ended up in the hill, 6 feet under to be exact. All of the families of the boys were heartbroken about what happened to the boys, but couldn’t do anything about it. After all the hill wasn’t a sentient being. In the end, the families got over what happened, or so they thought. Every year, they go back to the hill, being careful not to trip. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Hi! First story on here, please give me constructive criticism. I like how this story turned out, but I would love to make it better.


“What do you mean you don’t believe in a Creator?” “What do you mean you do?” “We came from something.” "Exactly, some thing , not some one ." “No, you’re not getting it. There’s a Hand above us, a Hand that created everything.” “Lies. It’s called the Big Bang.” “It doesn’t make sense. You can’t tell me that the stars above us, the cricket singing, the beating heart within you, were all created by some random explosion. Think about it: from the minute you believe in the magic of a greater being, you recognize the magic all around you.” “You sound stupid.” “Thank you for the compliment.” “There is no God, nor gods. There’s science. Pure fact. Studies of years of evolution and erosion and creation.” “I see. In school we’re taught that the Big Bang was an explosion of light, right?” “Where are you going with this?” “Yes or no?” “Yes.” “Well then, the Bible says, ‘And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.’ An explosion of matter would mean that everything we see is just a solid.” “God was created by the patriarchy to keep people in place.” “God exists; humans have manipulated His grace to create a being we’re expected to fear.” “The patriarchy has gotten to you too. You keep referring to this nonexistent thing as a male.” “Call it Mother Nature, I don’t care. There are many names for God: Díos, Allah, Jehovah, the Great Spirit, the Holy Spirit...The Creator isn’t a person; He--excuse me, It--It is an energy. We humanize It to better comprehend how things work.” “You don’t even know to explain the creation of the universe.” “Just because I can’t explain it doesn’t mean it’s not legit.” “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me that aliens and ghosts are real.” “They are!” “I’m embarrassed of this conversation.” “There is an entire universe out there that we haven’t explored. We haven't even discovered half of the creatures in our oceans. There’s no way that we are the only living things to exist.” “Or unliving, apparently.” “Sure. If we exist in the physical, don’t we exist in the spiritual?” “We die. Our body decomposes. We are forgotten.” “We go back to Him.” “There is no evidence of a God!” “Have you watched The Polar Express?” “We watched it together back in 3 rd grade.” “The train conductor told the boy that sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can't see. Do you see the wind?” “I feel it on my skin.” “And I feel God in my heart. He sends shivers through my soul.” “No, you’ve been programmed by society to believe in a deity that is all powerful.” “Untrue. I don’t agree with everything. I don’t agree with the idea that God is an all-loving, all-forgiving Creator, who, the minute you do something wrong, turns into a vengeful God. It just doesn’t work.” “So you admit that religion has its flaws and untruths.” “Religion and spirituality may go together, but that doesn’t mean they don’t split up at times. God is the everlasting Truth. There is nothing but pure energy.” “If I can’t feel it, see it, touch it, taste it, or smell it, it doesn’t exist.” “Okay...what if I’ve experienced His grace?” “Entertain me.” “I used to have seizures. After my second episode I began taking meds, but those worsened the number of times I collapsed. I went to a recommended Turkish priest who had helped a girl I know. He prayed over me and blessed some water before putting it in a bottle. Then he told me to empty the bottle at a river or ocean and then toss it in.” “That’s littering. I don’t support.” “I forgot to empty the bottle for two years and the seizures worsened. I remember that three Novembers ago I took it to the beach at night and poured the water by my feet on the sand. I was there for about fifteen minutes while praying. Finally I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes. The water had been high tide, but in those minutes, it was very low. I said internally, ‘If this water touches my feet and pulls the Holy Water in with it, I’ll be healed.’ Guess what. The very next lull of waves touched my feet, pulled the water in, and I’ve been seizure-free for three years now.” “You’re thinking too much into it. I study medicine, you don’t, okay. Sometimes medication takes a while to kick in.” “I didn’t finish.” “I’m not changing my mind to believe in some supernatural thing that doesn’t exist.” “I’m not asking you to change your mind; I’m asking you to understand why I believe. That night I woke up at 4:00 in the morning and decided to meditate. For once in my life, I meditated for half an hour. I started at 4:03 and ended at 4:33--on the dot, I remember. Well, I decided to close my eyes for a bit more. I kid you not, ten minutes or so passed, but when I opened my eyes, it said 4:32!” “I’m pretty sure you read the clock wrong.” “It went back a minute!” “That doesn’t happen.” “I’m telling you it happened! You can’t expect to hear this stuff from Hawking or Michio Kaku.” “That’s because they know the thing you just said is impossible.” “And yet Jesus walked on water.” “I used to believe that...I’m not too sure anymore.” “Do you believe that Jesus, some random poor man, was crucified for committing no crime for the fun of things?” “I believe that people disagreed with him and they hated him. He had no say.” “He knew what was coming. At the Last Supper, He told his disciples that one of them would betray Him. I think Nikos Kazantzakis, a Greek author, put things in an incredible manner. In his book The Last Temptation of Christ , Jesus told Judas to go do what he should. In turn, Judas said that he couldn’t betray Him, and he asked Jesus if He would betray his Master. After a moment, Jesus answered, ‘No, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to. That is why God pitied me and gave me the easier task: to be crucified.’ Isn’t that beautiful?” “See, I just don’t believe it. If he knew he’d die, why didn’t he flee?” “Because He died for us. He accepted the Cross and prayed for the sinners while being nailed in. Do you think someone would die for strangers if they didn’t believe what they were saying? In His case, Whom he was preaching about.” “People used to sacrifice sheep to gods, so maybe he believed in something that wasn’t real.” “Let me ask you something. Have you seen a star before?” “We’re looking at one now.” “No, have you yourself seen one up close? I want you to tell me that you yourself have seen a star and studied it enough to know it’s a ball of plasma being held together by its own gravity.” “I see where you’re going with this but it’s not--” “Scientists tell us that black holes exist, which I believe, but I haven’t seen one before. Some scientists tell us that black holes lead into parallel universes, yet you nor I have had the firsthand experience of traveling. Yet you believe it, and all because a scientist you’ve never met before nor studied from claimed it to be so. Don’t discredit things too quickly.” “Science is based on extensive logic, reasoning, and fact.” “I saw the time go back a minute and you don’t believe me!” “I see us getting nowhere.” “You haven’t actually told me why the Big Bang makes sense to you--other than the concept of an explosion of light--which, I might add, the Bible mentioned thousands of years ago.” “I don’t give a damn about the Big Bang! My dad’s schizophrenic, I’ve had depression for years, my nephew was killed trying to break up a fight, two of my boyfriends cheated on me, I watched a two-year-old die on one of my medical rotations...If your God’s so loving, why is there so much evil in the world? Talk to me about the starving, or the trafficked children, or the baby who dies within a year. The concept of a loving, omnipotent being that allows for this to happen goes against itself without needing anyone to point out its flaws.” “My heart goes out to those people too. I think of their terror and scarred lives, I do; I question God’s reasons as well, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe.” “God doesn’t care nor does He do good, so why bother believing?” “Your anger is directed at people more than it is to God.” “I hate Him for everything!” “...How can you hate something that doesn’t exist?”