“Suing me? What do you mean he’s suing me. For what?” “He says the program was his idea, Sir, and that you’ve been impossible to work with. He’s suing for half.” “Half?! No, no fucking way is that troublemaker getting half. Tell him I’ll see him in court.” “Sir, If you don’t settle, and this goes to trial, he might very well win. Half the program, half the users.” “That snake. I spent a week re-writing his inelegant code. It was buggy as shit. My version is perfect. Flawless. It’s a paradise, users are never going to want to leave.” “Well, some of the beta testers for the new update have given the feedback that you’ve over censored the experience. That it’s too restrictive.” “Restrictive!? Restric...*ha!* Are you serious? What about it do they think is restrictive?” “There’s a list, let me see...well, you got rid of the hunting, for one thing.” “Hunting? What would they even hunt? You’re not talking about the *animals*, are you? Sweet mother of...that’s just depraved! They’re there to be named, not *hunted*. Two hundred custom engineered species, species that our users have *never* seen before, and their first inclination is to *HUNT* them?! You know what, fine. Where’s Damien now? Ok, well when he’s back tell him I wanna make a deal. Yeah, he can have any of the users that think the program is too “*censored*”. What about the fig leaves, though? They liked that touch, right?” “I’ll get back to you on that, Sir. There’s also the issue of the name.” “What’s wrong with the name?” “Marketing just thinks it’s a little long.” “'*The Environmentally Diverse Experience Network’*? Are you joking? That’s a joke, right? It’s five words! You can count them on one hand. It describes what the system is perfectly. In *five*words. *Poetry*!” “No, I get that, I do, but they were wondering if--” “Fine, you know what, drop the “The”, make it cleaner.” “Actually, they’re proposing dropping the “the” and condensing it into an acronym, just “Eden”. It tested well.” “*Eden!*? What is that, just a sound? Nobody’s going to know what it is. It doesn’t mean anything! “*Eden*?” I mean what the fuck, right?” “I get that, and you get that, but let’s give them this win. It’s between that and ‘Hell’.” “No! We are not using Damien’s idea on this! NO! Call it Eden if you have to. ‘*Hell’*...you know why he picked that, right? Our mother’s name is “Hellen”, ‘Hell’ for short. Fucking kiss ass. She’s always lauding over him, always...never mind...deep breaths...in...out...Ok. I’m fine now. I’m One. “Good. Just one last thing, sir.” “Oh, *Jesus Christ*!” “Sir? Everything Ok?” “Look, Gabe, I gotta go, looks like my kid’s logged into the beta under my credentials...*again*. He’s gonna make a mess if he keeps this up. Please just take care of this thing with my brother discretely. Ok. Great. We’ll talk soon, send my best to Latecia.


EXPULSION That was Malgund village in Chiplun Taluka of Ratnagiri district. The entire area filled with mango, coconut, and areca nut trees was coated by the thick fog of January 1948. Satish using his battery torch paved his way home after meeting the client in the factory which was close to his house. Satish kept the keys of the factory in its proper place and after cleaning himself joined the other members of the family for dinner. His father, Shri Ganesh Pant Gogte said, ”Listen, Satish, you get more involved and take charge of our business activity. Since our country has now got independence, our people will decide the policy for the growth of the industry. The road map will be announced and we have to be prepared to take benefit of the schemes. Ramesh and Suresh are still studying in high schools. You have passed B.Sc. and you will be my spokesperson henceforth. The small-scale unit which I have established ten years ago is now stable. We need finance to take a leap forward. And I am sure our government will announce some plans to help the small-scale industry to come up. We have to achieve something big in the coming 5-7 years. So Satish, you have to share my responsibilities and we have to expand. Soon Ramesh & Suresh will get ready to take some roles. Next year only we should see our industry covering a wider area. I am very optimistic.” Mr. Gogte had dreams in his eyes. He was looking for the opportunity to prove his capability. He had expectations from his brilliant sons. They had proven themselves in schools. He wanted them to sparkle in his industry which he had set up with a lot of hardship. Mr. Ganesh Pant Gogte’s father had spent a major period of his life in jail due to his participation in the freedom movement. His elder brother had also joined the movement. Ganesh Pant had taken up the responsibility of running the family. Despite the turmoil of the freedom movement, he worked hard and set up a small-scale unit producing parts required for making electric fans. Slowly he established his credibility as a dependable source of parts. A unit started in the backyard of his house, slowly grew to provide employment for 25-30 workers of Malgund village. After a frantic struggle by a large number of freedom fighters following different methods to pressurize the British rulers, some following the non-violence and others following the roads of violent methods, finally, Britishers handed over the reins in the hands of Indians on 15 th August 1947. But it had a dark side of genocide as the country was partitioned into two countries based on religion. It was one of the deadliest bloodsheds of the world. But Gogte family was far away from the borders of the partitioned nation, and so was not affected directly by the carnage. Getting freedom for the country was celebrated with fervor in this area. Every individual was happily breathing the air of freedom. Mr. Ganesh Pant Gogte who had put his sweat and blood in bringing up his unit to the present level was looking forward to expanding his unit to cover all of India. He was grooming his sons to contribute to the further development of his unit. After dinner, everyone retired to bed. At around midnight, there was a desperate knock on the door. Ganesh Pant got up, switched on the light, and opened the door. On that foggy night, the sarpanch of the village, wrapped in a blanket was at the door with a couple of senior members of the village. “Yes Patil, what is the matter?” “Gogte Sir, have you heard that Gandhiji is assassinated?” “Oh my God! Who was that idiot?” "We do not know all that but he shot Gandhiji point-blank. Gandhiji collapsed on the spot. And there is a spurt of violence all over India. We have heard that in Maharashtra state, big mobs are moving from village to village causing a lot of destruction. We request your entire family to collect all your important documents and valuables and come with us to our house. Quick. We don't have much time." "But Patil, when the mob comes to our village, we all will have to face the same danger. Whether here in my house or your farmhouse." “No. Gogte sir, it is not the same. The murderer of Gandhiji was a Brahmin. And the mob is destroying the properties of only Brahmins. They have the complete list of Brahmin houses. The mob just pours petrol on the houses of the Brahmins whether anyone is inside or not. They burn the entire property. There are many instances of families burnt alive. Please let us not waste time anymore. Every moment is important. Please take important documents with you and let us run to my farmhouse. I have my bullock cart ready for you. Please hurry up. We do not want you take your car with you. That will disclose your presence instantly. " By this time the entire Gogte family was aware of the lurking danger. They picked up all their important material and started out. In no time, the Gogte family was in Patil's farmhouse. Everyone was extremely worried. Totally helpless. Soon they heard a big mob carrying burning torches running euphorically towards their bungalow. A lot of shouting and noise was heard. A flash of big fire could be sensed by the Gogte family hiding in the darkroom. After an hour’s commotion, the mob moved to another village. One could see the property set ablaze. Patil came to the farmhouse. "The inexorable idiots did not listen to us. They tied our hands and legs. Some 7-8 of us who were trying stopping them from doing this horrendous act.” Patil could not control his sobs. In utter despair, the Gogte family waited until it dawned. After the sun appeared, the Gogte family rushed to their house. There was nothing left. The entire house and the complete factory were turned into ashes. The half-burnt axle was the only proof left of the car. The half-burnt furniture was generating a lot of smoke. Ganesh Pant Gogte could not control the tears flowing away with his dreams. The freedom of the country brought with it, the disaster for the families of the Brahmin community in Maharashtra. The Gogte family took some time to come out of desolation. After considering all the options, they decided to move to Ratnagiri. Without talking to anyone, they took some public transport and reached Ratnagiri. Rented a room in a chawl, and Mr.Ganesh Pant Gogte started a new life from scratch. He had to wipe off his early struggle. He searched for a small part that can be made in the house. Ganesh Pant and his wife took the responsibility of making the part at home and the delivery was handled by the two younger school-going children. Satish looked for a job. And the family forgot the holocaust and took over the challenge of re-establishing themselves. Ramesh and Suresh sparkled in the school. Earned scholarship and continued their brilliant career. Suresh, the youngest of them was maintaining his rank consistently and was getting popular in the area. After S.S.C., Ramesh got his Bachelor of Science and specialized in forestry. He took up Conservation of forests as his career and strongly moved up in his profession. Very soon Ramesh was the Chief Conservator of the state of Maharashtra. Suresh chose medicines as his occupation. After MBBS, he got his Gold medal in Master’s degree, MD. He shifted to Mumbai. He became the medical advisor of the State Government. Ten years passed. All the three sons of Ganesh Pant Gogte got married and had children. They built a big bungalow in Ratnagiri named “AMELIORATION” Once in February, the entire family assembled in Chiplun and visited the village Malgund. The entire family went to the spot of their house and the factory. A placard displayed there read the following message, “This place belongs to Shri Ganesh Pant Gogte and his family. We are ashamed that this property and his factory were destroyed by the mob frenzy. The person who had struggled and set up the industry, which had provided an opportunity to earn bread to 30 families of the village, had to face this ill-treatment. We could not trace him after the disaster. We do not know their whereabouts. If anyone has any information, please contact the Sarpanch.” Ganesh Pant Gogte was moved. They went to Sarpanch’s office. A young man was in charge. Ganesh Pant told his identity. The young man immediately rose, came forward bent down, and touched Ganesh Pant’s feet. "Sir, please pardon us. Our society had done injustice to you, Sir. We are ashamed of all that. Please come back to this place and start your factory. We are ready to bear all the expenses to rebuild your house. We want your presence here. Sir, I was a small boy then. I did not understand anything about what happened that day. But my father and our earlier Sarpanch, Patil tell us about you every time we pass the place of your house and your factory. Sir, my father is not keeping well. But he always says, he has to see you and seek forgiveness before he leaves this world. Mr. Patil is also in distress. He says, when we hear the atrocities on Jews by Hitler, we feel sympathetic about them. When we come across some Indians who were pulled out of their own houses during partition and had to come to India to take shelter, our hearts cry. But here in our own village, innocent persons were attacked by the unruly mobs in 1948, we could not do anything to save the people from atrocities inflicted on them. Mr.Patil is very upset about his failure to stop the act of brutality.” “Where is he? I too want to see him.” “I will take you there. Please come.” The man took the entire family to Patil’s house. Patil was relaxing in an arm-chair. As soon as he saw Ganesh Pant Gogte, he got up. Bent down and held his feet. Started sobbing. His tears wet Ganesh Pant’s feet. "Sorry sir, please pardon me. I seek forgiveness. I could not stop the mob. I could not prevent the disaster. I am deeply ashamed. Sir, we are ready for any punishment you give us. But Sir, please come back. I tried whatever I could to get in touch with you. But failed miserably. Now Sir, please take charge of your land and please come back to stay here. There were many proposals to purchase the place. But we refused all of them. We wanted to hand over the place to you.” Then Mr.Patil looked at the sons. "Satish, Ramesh, and Suresh. Children, please forgive this old uncle. I was not able to stop the mob from destroying your property. I am guilty. I need to be punished. Please tell your father, to come and stay here. We will build the house for you. You do not have to do anything. We only need your presence here.” "Patil, these children have become a big entity. Satish has become the Principal of a college. Ramesh has become the chief conservator of our state. And Suresh has become the chief medical advisor for the state. He keeps visiting various countries. All of them are very busy.” “Oh my God! I am so happy to know this. Bandya.” Patil called the young Sarpanch. “Bandya Sawant, This is the great sir, in whose factory your father worked. “ “I recognized them as soon as they came. Come on Sir, you will meet another person who is on death bed but keeps seeking pardon often. Yes, my father is waiting to see you, sir.” "Sir, please go and see his father. He is holding on to his life just to apologize to you. After you see him, we will have lunch together. Children, are you ready to share our meal? It won't be like your five-star meal. " Patil said. “Surely, we will come back and have lunch with you all.” All of them went to the other house. The old person could not get up. Ganesh Pant held his hand and with tearful eyes said,” Now I have come here. I have forgotten everything that had happened. Don’t feel guilty. Get well soon.” Tears poured out of Sawant's eyes. He could not say a word. The young Sarpanch, Bandya, his son brought a few cut mangoes and offered them. “Mr.Patil is waiting for the meal to share with you. We will go back to him. “ Ganesh Pant rose with a heavy heart. Again, held the hand of bedridden Mr.Sawant. He could see Sawant’s face brightening up. Sawant in his choked voice said, ”Sir, That night when we came to your house with Patil to warn you about the anticipated danger, you were reluctant to consider yourself as separate from the entire village. Unaware that the agitation was against a particular community, you were ready to face the calamity with the entire village. You considered the whole village as your own family. " Sawant could not utter any word further. He took a deep breath and whispered, " And these impotent family members from the village could not protect you." Sawant was bawling all the way through. Ganesh Pant also could not stop his tears. He somehow controlled himself and said, “Sawant, I told you I have forgotten everything that happened that day. Please don’t feel remorse. It was not the fault of anyone from the village. The outsiders came and burnt our property. They were so many of them. How could you have controlled them? Please, for my sake, drop this guilt. I am settled in Ratnagiri. My children are doing very well in their lives. Please do not worry. Now, if you want to make me happy, take your medicines and get well soon. I am going to come back only if you yourself will come to receive me at the temple.” “Promise, Sir?” Sawant said with freshness on his face. “ I will definitely be there to receive my God back to my village.” Sawant again bawled intensely. Ganesh Pant patting on the Sawant’s back, said, “Now, no more weeping. Let me see you smiling.” Sawant forced a smile. Ganesh Pant and his family left the house heavy-hearted. They had meals with Patil’s family. Ganesh Pant and his wife assured the Malgundkars, the villagers from Malgund, that they would shift and would be an integral part of the village. The Gogte family left Malgund on a happy note.


My Dearest Ruth, I trust this letter finds you in good health. The thoughts of you and I are like a constant symphony in my mind playing the same song repeatedly. I yearn to feel you, to touch you the way we once did. I am saddened at the thought of laying my eyes on you, yet unable to encapsulate your body with mine. The tips of my fingers crave the shape of your womanly curves. To taste your sweet lips again is the reason for my living. I would love to run my fingers through your hair, pull you close to me and passionately kiss you, showing you how deeply I care for you. However, again, I must fold this letter and put it in this envelope and leave it in our secret place. One day soon, I will ravish your body and never let you go. With All My Love, Thomas Ruth’s tears hit the letter as she reads it for probably the hundredth time. She leans out of the window and sees him. Thomas is in his room in the building right across the street. He is lying on his bed reading a book. He must sense that he is being watched, so he glances out of his window toward Ruth’s. They link stares, then exchange smiles. Ruth gazes lovingly at Thomas. He raises his hand as a weak attempt at a wave. Ruth blows him a kiss. Thomas catches the imaginary kiss and holds it in his hand. He brings his closed fist up to his mouth and closes his eyes. Ruth watches him, then dreams of the day they can walk hand in hand again, go to a picture show again, or eat at a restaurant again. She always hated the rule of not living together before marriage, but especially now, having to endure this loneliness and isolation without her love, is just too much to bear. My Love, Oh, Thomas, how I long to inhale the scent of you. I feel as safe as a small child when being held in your arms. Your strong chest shelters me from all of life’s storms and tribulations. I deeply desire your loving kiss, your lips touching mine. Then, to delve into the ocean that are your eyes, the magnificent sapphires that stare into my soul. I cannot stifle my passions for you much longer and they will not be satisfied until we unite again. The words “I Love You” do not express how acute my feelings are for you, but I say these words as they are the strongest words in my vocabulary. With this I leave you a kiss and a scent to bring back the memories of the time we have spent and to look forward to the life we will spend together. Affectionately Yours, Ruth Ruth seals the envelope with a kiss and spritzes one spray of perfume on it before sneaking it down to a crevasse in the doorway on the outside of her building. This is the designated place for the love letters. Ruth must be careful, but to retrieve his letter, Thomas must not be seen leaving his building and crossing the street to Ruth’s building or he will be fined. He accomplishes this feat every night just to look upon, feel, and read the letter from his love. Upon recovering his letter from Ruth, he leaves a letter from himself in place of hers. Before pursuing his transit across the street, he revels in the captivating scent of his beloved. The next morning, Ruth awakens from a wonderful dream of her and Thomas at their wedding. She is disappointed as she recalls her current circumstance. She looks out for Thomas but doesn’t see him this morning. It’s not unusual since he lives with his family and they have family breakfast in the mornings. She patiently lingers by the window until she can see his face. The normal hustle and bustle of the city streets has halted and only an occasional car or delivery truck drives down the boulevard. Ruth, still awaiting her love, is startled when she hears a siren. She stretches her neck out of the window and looks as far left as she can. She sees nothing. Then she looks right. She sees an American Red Cross ambulance rushing in her direction. In the year 1918, the ambulance is an amplified version of the Model T Ford car and is Ill-equipped to handle life-threatening emergencies. Ruth expects the ambulance to drive past, but it screeches to a halt in between her and Thomas’ buildings, blocking the view of Thomas’s window. Two emergency workers fully clad with protective gear jump out from the back of the ambulance with a gurney. They rush inside. Minutes feel like hours for Ruth as she impatiently watches for the workers’ return. Her heart is pounding in anticipation. Finally, the workers emerge with a man on the gurney. The man is shaking violently, obviously seizing. Ruth recognizes him as Thomas’ brother, Charles. The emergency workers load Charles into the ambulance and quickly drive away. Ruth can now see Thomas’ window again. He is visibly upset. His antics of pacing and the throwing of his arms combined with burying his face into his hands, sobbing, scares Ruth. This is the first time it has been someone this close. The city has been under the mandatory quarantine for thirty-six days now. The newspapers say the pandemic is only getting worse. It has been this long since Ruth and Thomas have had any form of touch. Being able to see Thomas through his window, yet not be able to hold him or comfort him, only adds insult to injury for Ruth. Their romance began like any other whirlwind romance. A little less than a year ago, Ruth was working as a bank teller. A chance meeting of the two happened when Thomas needed to make a deposit for his father. Thomas, having been born and raised in the city worked for his father who owns a pharmacy. For the two twenty-somethings, it was love at first sight. From that day on, they were inseparable. Ruth had no family in the city. She is an only child and her parents live in a small country town in the next state. As a child, Ruth always dreamed of living in the city. She had always heard such wonderful things. So, one day she decided it was the day, the day she would make her dreams come true. She made her way to the city with her entire life savings, which wasn’t much. She quickly learned it was not as magical as she had determined to herself it would be. After obtaining an apartment, unbeknownst to her at that time, right across the street from Thomas’, Ruth sought out to find work. She had been an excellent student in arithmetic so obtaining work at the bank was easy. Although alone, Ruth felt confident her decision to embark upon the big city was going to pan out after all. For six months, Thomas and Ruth were neighbors and didn’t even know it. After getting acquainted at the bank, the two lovebirds wanted to spend every minute together. Every morning, Thomas would walk her to the bank on his way to the pharmacy. Thomas’ parents and his three brothers also instantly fell in love with Ruth. So, it came as no surprise when Thomas set up an extravagant proposal event where everyone that mattered was in attendance. Ruth had been so enamored of Thomas. She felt as though she were dreaming. When walking, she felt she wasn’t even touching the ground. She and Thomas were so in love and had already planned the date: September 21, 1918. It was the same day they had met the year prior. Understandably, Ruth’s sadness turned to frustration, then to rage when the Spanish flu made its way into the city. Once the government set the mandatory quarantine into place, Ruth felt her life-is-perfect bubble pop. The quarantine order was that everyone other than medical workers and volunteers that had medical training, police officers, and other essential workers were to stay at home. Neither Ruth nor Thomas were considered essential. So, they would spend their long, hot summer days staring at each other from their windows and write long love letters to one another. The next morning, Ruth wakes up and doesn’t see Thomas. Not a single soul has passed by Thomas’ window all day. Concerned, Ruth goes down to the secret place and finds her letter from the previous day had not been collected. A sense of fear rushes over her. While she is in hidden in the doorway, Ruth sees another American Red Cross ambulance. This time the siren is not blaring, and the workers are not moving as quickly. Like before, they take the gurney inside. Ruth realizes that she has forgotten to breathe. She takes in a deep breath and holds it again waiting fearfully for what she may see next. When the workers come out of the building, they have a person covered with a sheet. Ruth witnesses Thomas’ mother crying in a handkerchief. Panicked, Ruth scans the front of the building searching for Thomas, trying not to give up her location. She lingers in the doorway until the ambulance has loaded their patient and has driven away. Ruth is completely numb. She stands and watches for any sign of Thomas. Nothing. Walking past in another window, Ruth sees Thomas’ mother and father, now both crying and holding one another. Feeling as though she has no other option, Ruth walks back into her building. Heartbroken at the thought of her love having died from this horrible pandemic, Ruth walks up the stairs. She passes the floor on which her apartment is on and continues to the rooftop. It’s only five stories high, but high enough to do the job. Making her way over to the edge, Ruth looks down. She envisions the memories shared between herself and Thomas. She couldn’t, just couldn’t live without him. She knows her mother and father would be sad, but to Ruth she has nothing left to live for. She opens her arms wide. The thought of knowing she would be with her love in the next life gives her the courage to do it. Eyes closed, imagining reuniting with Thomas, she jumps. As Ruth’s body lies lifeless in the middle of the street, Thomas runs out to see what has happened. Everything becomes mute. The blood drains from his body and he forces himself to take a breath before willing his legs to walk over to his beloved. He kneels and scoops up the mangled mess that was once his beautiful fiancé. He holds her tight, then able to incite sound, he screams.


I am an American police officer and this is a true story. I’ve been needing to get this off my chest for a while. I’ve obviously changed the names and addresses in this story for legal purposes. I’ve got a glass of fine whisky and I think I’m ready to share this with you.  Two summers ago was one of the busiest summers my jurisdiction has ever seen. That summer and the previous six months leading up to that summer were.... Hell.  It seemed like there was just something in the water, something “going around.” We didn’t know why, but damn, people were killing, stabbing, raping, and dismembering each other at record paces. Everyone was burnt out and maxed out on overtime.  My partner and I were nearing the end of our work week. We had thirty minutes before our relief arrived when the call went out.  “I need a unit to respond to 1273 Maple Ave. in reference to a 4 year old child who is beyond parental control.”  My partner was further behind in his reports than I was so I volunteered to respond solo. We joked a bit about how hard it could be to control a 4 year old. I got in to my patrol car and responded to the address.  It was an incredibly hot evening in August the dash thermometer put it at 103 degrees. I pulled up to the address and noticed the front door wide open, along with all the windows.  I began the ascent up the front steps to the house. I could hear soft sobbing coming from the other room. I announce myself and knock on the door frame.  “Hello; Officer Garner here to speak with Cindy about a 4 year old.”  I heard the sobbing turn to sniffling.  “I’m coming.”  “I’m Cindy.” She said in a quiet broken voice.  I started like always “so ma’am what is it that’s going on today?”  I could sense something was different..off... it made me damn nervous. Cindy’s eyes revealed months of distress. I was not there because the parents got tired of threatening to take away the ipads from their bratty kids.  Cindy gave a slight head nod and stepped outside on the front porch to speak with me.  “Officer Garner I don’t know what to do, we are at the end of our ropes.”  Cindy then went on to describe everything they have been through since they adopted the little girl, Kelly... about six months ago.  Cindy described Kelly was a little angel when they first met her. The adoption agency really wouldn’t say much about her past. They figured she’s so young how bad could her history be?  In the last six months they have taken her to every doctor in the Pacific Northwest. They all just diagnose her with some new alphabet soup disorder and send us on our way, she explained. She’s too young to take any of the heavy medication... it would kill her.  At this point my curiosity is struck. I explained to Cindy there really is nothing that I can do for her that she hasn’t tried already. I then said the words I later would come to regret: “But I’ll come and and talk to her.”  Cindy motioned with her head for me to follow her inside.  As soon as I stepped foot inside sweat began dripping down my face.  “Why is it so hot in here?”  “Oh, I should have warned you the air conditioner broke last week, we’ve called everyone in town but nobody seems to be available to come fix it.”  The floor was wood, old wood. The kind of old hardwood floor that squeaked with every step you took. We rounded a corner and I could see a child laying on the couch, maybe a pre-teen, judging by the size. A blanket covered over his head but a faint glow shown through the blanket. It looked like he had some sort of tablet. It stood out to me because it was so damned hot in this house.  “Thomas,” Cindy said to the figure under the blanket. “We are gonna have your father bring Kelly upstairs, you may want to go on a walk buddy.”  Thomas didn’t think twice. He flung the blanket to the side and grabbed a basketball, laid down the tablet, face up , and practically ran outside.  Cindy grabbed a kitchen chair and drug it out from the kitchen table. She faced it towards a set of stairs that went to a basement.  “Have a seat Officer Garner.”  “Oh ma’am, please; just call me Tyler.”  Cindy’s facial muscles tightened ever so slightly. It was a glimmer of appreciation. Everything she had done up until this point was labored. Stepping out the front door to talk to me, walking into the kitchen, dragging out the chair. Everything she did looked like it drained the little bit of light flickering in her soul.  I sat in the Victorian style wooden chair.  “Mikey; Officer, Gar... I mean Tyler is here to speak with Kelly, could you bring her up please.”  Cindy then maneuvered putting herself behind me. I don’t think she did this consciously. Her hand went up to her forehead. But she never once turned her back to that staircase.  I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I saw the man I assumed was Mike, or Mikey. In his arms was Kelly.  She had jet black hair and pale white skin. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. A trained observer, I caught a glimpse of bruises on her elbows and knees. Bruises on the joints like that are not usually a sign of child abuse, but I made a mental note.  Mike set her down on the hardwood floor about five feet away from where I sat. She was facing away from me sitting with her legs crossed and head down.  I stared in silence for a few moments. I watched her pick at the skin on her knees. Her fingers scratched at her skin in a rhythmic pulsating manor. I cleared my throat and said in a gentle, welcoming voice “hi Kelly I’m Tyler.”  Her fingers stopped. Slowly her head rotated to the right until her gaze struck me over her shoulder. I instantly felt cold.  The little girl, in one rapid, violent motion flipped around facing me on all fours. Shaken, I leaned back in my chair, eyes wide and mouth open. My gun hand twitched out of instinct.  Staring straight at me... no through me, she let out a horrific, ear piercing scream. I locked eyes with her. Her eyes were black, no color at all, just black.  Suddenly in an instant her head fixed down to the ground and her jet black hair hid her face.  It was not human how she moved. She stood straight up and then let herself drop to her knees. She did this over and over and over. From a straight posture, to a short jump, and then falling straight on her knees. I thought my ears were going to bleed from the high pitch scream.  The sound of her knees dropping on the aged wooden floors sounded much heavier than that of a small child.  The scream changed pitches from high, to low. Deep, devilish, demonic. This went on for several moments.  Then, out of nowhere it stopped. She turned back towards Mike who had made his way to the chair across from me without my notice.  On all fours, like some kind of animal, she crawled and shuffled to a spot in between Mike’s legs.  She looked up at him and said “daddy, please don’t let that man take me. I want to stay here with you.” The best way i can describe her voice was that of a grown man trying to sound like a feminine small child.  I drove back by the house a few days later. Everything was gone. They had moved out and short sold their house. I spent a considerable amount of time trying to follow up with the family but it’s like they disappeared... fell off the face of the earth. All their phone numbers were changed.  I’ll probably never know where they went. But I will say that things around town seemed to calm down after they left.


Once there was an orphaned teenage girl named Sarah. Her home had been destroyed by a powerful hurricane, leaving her with nowhere to go. As the storm raged on, Sarah sought shelter nearby, huddled in a small, cramped space as the winds howled outside. Once the hurricane passed, Sarah returned to her home. The once-beautiful house was now a pile of rubble, with debris scattered everywhere. Despite the overwhelming destruction, Sarah was determined to rebuild her home. She began to clear away the debris and salvage what she could from the wreckage. Each night as she worked, Sarah faced a new problem. Sometimes it was a lack of tools, other times it was a shortage of supplies. Sarah’s motivation was never lackluster. Despite the setbacks, Sarah persisted, driven by her determination to have a home again. As the weeks turned into months and the months turned into years, Sarah continued to work on her home. Living in a partially demolished house, she persevered through the hardships and never gave up on her dream of rebuilding her home. After years of hard work, Sarah had rebuilt her home. It was not the grand mansion it once was, but it was a place she could call her own. Filled with pride and a sense of accomplishment, Sarah knew that her determination and hard work had paid off. She had built a home, and with it, a new life for herself. With her home finally complete, Sarah settled in and began to make a life for herself. She decorated the house with the few possessions she had salvaged from the wreckage and planted a small garden in the backyard. She also got a part-time job at a local store to make ends meet and started to save money for any future repairs and improvements. As she settled into her new life, Sarah realized that her home was not only a physical structure, but also a symbol of her resilience and determination. She had faced unimaginable hardships and had come out on the other side, stronger than ever before. As the years passed, Sarah’s home became a beacon of hope for her community. Many of her neighbors had also lost their homes in the hurricane, and seeing Sarah’s determination to rebuild inspired them to do the same. They came to her for advice and assistance, and Sarah was more than happy to help. Sarah’s home also became a gathering place for her community. She would often host barbecues and parties, and her home was filled with laughter and joy. Sarah realized her hardship allowed her to gain this sense of satisfaction. Sarah finally felt like she belonged somewhere and had a sense of community she never had before. As she looked back on her journey, Sarah knew that rebuilding her home had been one of the most difficult things she had ever done. But it had also been one of the most rewarding. She had built a home, a new life, and a community, and for that, she was eternally grateful.


“Hey, you! Are you a survivor?!” Yuri shouted. A person was staring at him. No response was heard. “Answer me or I WILL shoot.” “What the hell are you shouting at?” Blake asked. “There’s a guy by the pile of bodies over there. Don’t you see him?” Yuri responded. Blake seemed confused. He scouted the area looking for the person Yuri was referring to. He was nowhere to be found. “The scene of dead bodies might be messing with your head, or your brain chip might have gotten corrupted,” he suggested. Yuri stopped for a moment. “Well, If you can’t see it, you might be right... I’ll get it checked once we get off this damn rock,” he said. The person was completely still and staring at Yuri. It was as if he was a robot that was shut down while looking forward. He tried to move from place to place, waving his hands around. The person was following Yuri with his eyes. “He’s following my movement, Blake! This isn’t a damn glitch!” Yuri exclaimed. He was beginning to panic a little. “Calm down. He can’t be real, because I can’t see him, nor does the infrared sensor. And the ship is not detecting any human life besides us. Those poor bastards are all dead,” Blake responded. “And how are you not worried? I heard brain chip corruptions can be dangerous. What if it shuts off suddenly and I’m left unable to hear and see?!” Yuri said while still eyeing the person. “Just wait till we reach the space station and don’t jinx it. I told you that chips are not reliable. Now forget that and help me move these bodies to the ship,” Blake said. Brain chips are most commonly used by people to enhance their senses or to replace a part of the brain that was damaged, such as the case with Yuri, whose occipital lobe had suffered damage due to a hit to the back of the head. And Blake, while being a scientist and valuing science over all, didn’t give in to the temptation, holding the belief it might malfunction at any time. Yuri hesitantly agreed to move the thought aside and pretend the person wasn’t there, even if it was a hard task by itself. They transported the required number of bodies into the ship and flew off, leaving the now dead settlements behind. Those two men were scientists sent to the planet of Nox to gather dead bodies in order to study them and figure out the reason they died. The planet was newly settled on, so not a lot of settlements were established. But then suddenly they all started dying a few weeks before the scientists arrived. A distress signal was picked up by the nearby space station, whose contents indicated that they died because of some disease. When groups were sent to investigate, human life had already perished. Heavily blemished Corpses were littering the ground. Nobody could tell what kind of horrible stench was plaguing the air as removing the protective suits would be a death wish. Now you might ask. Why are scientists the ones collecting the bodies? Aren’t they just supposed to receive them through some other paid group? Well, that’s because they were already passing by the planet, so they didn’t want to wait for the bodies to be delivered. While the ship crew only consisted of two members, they doubled as mechanics and experienced shooters, they knew what to do with a gun and skillfully so. Only one of them knew how to command a ship though. Unfortunately, they weren’t technicians, or the chip would have been checked by now. Once they put the corpses in the freezer, they made sure to decontaminate every exposed piece of equipment. They wouldn’t want to face the same fate as those back on the planet. Blake set the route and handed the control over to the auto-pilot. He rotated the chair to face Yuri who was sitting beside the reinforced window, looking at the person. He followed him into the ship. Or maybe he was a ‘she’? Or perhaps an ‘it’? It was hard for him to decide. “You know, I heard stories that people hallucinate a person a few hours before their death,” Blake said. “Hey! I thought you told me to not jinx it?!” Yuri responded, annoyed at the fact Blake would say such a thing when it was obvious he was not feeling at ease. “I’m just messing with you, man,” Blake said. “So, how does it look exactly?” “I don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman. It’s so undernourished I mistook its arms for sticks with claws attached to the ends of them. Its face barely looks like a human’s from how underfed it is. And it’s wearing tattered clothes, for some reason,” Yuri described it. “And...” “And?” Blake asked. “Why did you stop?” Yuri took some time to respond. He seemed baffled. Or maybe he was distressed. His body movement and speech changed a bit. “It said ‘Soon. Join. Us. You’,” Yuri responded. “This is starting to get creepy Blake.” He was distraught. Although he saw multiple death-enveloped scenes and things most people might deem disturbing, this was something else. He hadn’t felt this scared before. “Ha? What does it mean?” Blake asked. “And how am I supposed to know?” Yuri responded. He was frustrated. “I haven’t even heard of a corrupted brain chip that did this.” A few hours have passed. Yuri spent this time trying to distract his mind, still sitting in front of the window. Some instants had him thinking about what the person meant. The other scientist was busy trying to contact a technician on the space station. He complained that they would have started investigating the corpses if not for the fact Yuri can’t work all the while that “hallucination” is still present. Blake suggested that he throws something at the person so that Yuri can be assured it’s only a glitch. And just so he did. He threw a pillow at it. It suddenly disappeared and materialized nearby to where it was just before the impact was made. This caused Yuri to become more distressed, opposed to what Blake was hoping would happen. It was as if it had a mind of its own. It knew something was about to hit it. An idea came to his mind. What if he throws something at it while closing his eyes? Maybe that will change something. Before doing so, the ship interrupted them. “Captain, energy reserves are close to running out. The vessel will have to stop and replenish power,” it said. “The solar panels are malfunctioning, they are not opening. They will have to be checked captain, or the ship will be stuck in space.” Both the scientists looked irritated, especially Blake. He was cursing, sometimes stumbling on his words from how much he started spewing them from his mouth. He complained again that this wouldn’t have happened if Yuri agreed to exchange the vessel for another one. He got irritated even more when Yuri didn’t respond, rather looking at him for some seconds with a blank face and returning to staring at the spot in front of the window whom Blake saw as blank space. A few moments of silence followed which were broken when Blake told the other to go fix the solar panels himself, as he didn’t do anything in the past few hours, and suggested that this could be an opportunity to distract himself. What a misfortunate thing to happen. They could have reached the station. It was only an hour away and they didn’t want to call in maintenance from over there when they could fix the problem themselves. Or maybe it was because they didn’t wanna pay. Nonetheless, Yuri agreed and stood up, heading towards the suit locker. He was thankful that it was not near the person. He didn’t once try to get near it, in fear of damaging the chip if he did. Again, the ship interrupted them. “Warning! Warning! An object is approaching directly at high speeds from the right flank of the ship!” “What now?!” Blake shouted. What an unfortunate series of events he thought. “What is this object you're referencing?” He quickly said before it approached farther. The other scientist stayed silent and listened to what the ship had to say. “It appears to be a rock, Captain.” The ship said. “While being relatively small, moving at such a high speed will make this a catastrophic impact.” “What the hell are you waiting for? Shoot the damn thing,” Blake said, agitated. The defense system managed to shoot the rock, turning it into small, miniature pieces. Most of them passed by the ship. But, the rest hit the flank of the ship. Their impact’s violent vibrations caused the window to shatter, in turn causing pressure to escape the ship. Objects were being sucked out. Blake managed to cling to the command chair, his arms barely holding on. Yuri was not as fortunate. He wasn’t near anything he could grab as he was heading towards the locker. He was pulled towards the window. He imagined he was a goner, that he was gonna freeze in space. He couldn’t even die a peaceful death, he thought. But before that could happen, the automatic window shutter was closed. Yuri violently hit the back of his cranium against the window shutter as he was being sucked out. He hit the floor after but was somehow still conscious. He was bleeding profusely. It was as if the back of his head was destined to be damaged. Blake rushed to him, trying to see the injuries that had been done. He was no doctor. They were scientists, mechanics and he knew how to pilot a ship. But a doctor? He was not. Blood was already soaking Blake’s shoes. He didn’t even know if Yuri could survive to live another day. He was in critical condition, breathing rapidly, heart beating fast. He didn’t even know if he could save him. The ship’s automatic med-bay could have saved him if not for the defense system which consumed the remaining power. He quickly brought a gauze and ice pack and applied it to the location of the trauma, hoping it would slow down the bleeding and eventually cause clotting. But what would that achieve when death is already at Yuri’s doorstep? “Captain, an unknown vessel is approaching. It doesn’t look like a...” The energy reserves ran out before it could continue. A chill ran down Blake’s spine. For a moment he was even close to forgetting about the current condition of Yuri. He couldn’t ask what kind of ship was approaching, nor could he see outside as the shutter replaced the window. Maybe it was a confederate vessel? Or rather a pirate ship? He was left with figuring that out once they board the ship if they are even going to do that. Maybe they are just passing by. Yuri on the other hand was barely clinging to life. The trauma was too severe. The person that he was seeing was still standing where it was before. Completely still and with an expressionless face. Then, it started slowly approaching Yuri, its undernourished face and body becoming more and more detailed. He couldn’t freak out. He was in such a critical state he couldn’t react. “Now. Join. Us. You,” it said, in the most monotonous way possible, in a voice so hoarse. Blake turned around, still pressing the cloth against Yuri’s head. He froze for a moment while staring at the wall. He looked at the airlock, checking if anybody had boarded yet. There were no signs of entry though. He was seeing a girl, skin burned so much it didn’t look survivable. Or maybe she was a ‘he’? He couldn’t tell. She was standing by the wall. Where did she come from though? Did she hide in the ship when they landed on that planet without him knowing? Or maybe she hid when they were docked in a space station. But no, security would have seen her. He turned on the infrared sensor in his helmet, but she didn’t appear. She only did when he looked at her without it. “Hey, Yuri,” Blake spoke. But it was as if he was speaking to an unanswering wall. Yuri had other problems on his plate. “Why am I seeing a little girl? I don’t even have a brain chip.


Jennifer, 29, was in a terrible accident eight years ago. She has no memory of her life before the accident, and all she remembers is being in the middle of the woods, bleeding from her head. She was rescued by Jerry, now 62, who she fell in love with. Despite their age difference, Jennifer's love for Jerry persisted as he visited her in the hospital every day while she was recovering, and they married. Eight years later and Jennifer is about to celebrate her 30th birthday. Jerry isn't a good-looking man, he's not wealthy, and he doesn't have any unique skills; however, Jennifer adores him, and he saved her life. For her birthday, he is taking her to the island of Saint Martin. Jerry made sure to include parasailing in the island excursion because she had always wanted to try it. Jennifer and Jerry appear to be as in love as they were when they first met in the hospital. Jennifer starts parasailing lessons, and she's a natural. Jennifer inquires as to what she might do if the parachute fails. Her instructor jokes that he once survived a parachute failure while skydiving when his chute didn't open. He told her that he tried to land on the balls of his feet to absorb the force and aimed for trees to slow his fall. "Good thing I tucked and protected my head; if not, I would be dead," the instructor says. "You're in good hands; I've been in tough spots before," the instructor reassures. When the training is finished, they take to the skies as the boat heads out into open water. The wind picks up, and Jennifer and the instructor soar 20 to 30 feet in the air; it's just as much fun as Jennifer had imagined. A break in one of the ropes holding the parachute in place occurs just as the boat is about to turn around. Jennifer and her instructor take off 50 feet higher in the air. When the wind stops, Jennifer and her instructor fall 50 feet into the ocean because there is nothing holding the parachute to the boat anymore. The instructor crashed awkwardly and died instantly. Jennifer was able to direct her fall at an angle that saved her life, but she passed out in the middle of the ocean. The boat radioed the Coast Guard, who responded by sending a crew to the area. Jennifer was airlifted to the nearest hospital in an unresponsive state. Her brain was swollen, and the surgeon initially thought she wouldn't survive; however, just as he was about to leave the operating room, a spike on a monitor indicated brain activity. The surgeon takes a risk by resetting Jennifer's brain with electroconvulsive shock. The surgeon connects the electrodes and uses electricity to zap her. Jennifer is initially unresponsive, but the monitors come to life after a few seconds, indicating that she will survive. Jennifer is in the recovery ward, slowly waking up in the presence of doctors, nurses, and her adoring husband, Jerry. Jennifer's memories from before the accident eight years ago are starting to come back to her, unbeknownst to everyone in the room. Jennifer recalls that her husband, Jerry, kidnapped her rather than rescuing her. He held her captive in his basement for three months, brainwashed her, erased her memory with electroshock treatments, and took her to the hospital, claiming to have discovered her in the woods while on a hike. Jerry was not the caring husband Jennifer had thought; he was a sociopath. Jennifer didn't know how to handle the situation and didn't want Jerry to know she was aware of what he had done, so she pretended everything was normal. Jennifer was eventually discharged from the hospital after a week. She begins to look into Jerry's past after the couple returns home. She eventually discovered that Jerry had previously been married twice, both times rescuing a woman in her early twenties and playing the role of the hero, which helped the young woman fall in love with an older, unattractive man. They were all killed in an accident while on vacation, just before their 30th birthdays. This was no coincidence to Jennifer; she had no doubt in her mind that Jerry had rigged the parasail to fail and was attempting to murder her before her 30th birthday. Nothing could keep him from killing her now that they were back home. Jennifer knew that if she wanted to exact revenge on Jerry for everything he'd done to her and the other women, she'd have to keep the lie of their marriage going. Jerry would only suffer if he was caught in the act of attempting to murder her. Jerry wanted to make amends for the accident in Saint Martin a few weeks later. He had the brilliant idea of taking the couple up to a remote mountaintop hotel for a weekend alone. This was, without a doubt, his second attempt to murder Jennifer. On the way up the mountain, Jennifer noticed that the guardrail on the narrow road leading up the mountain was missing as the couple drove through the snow. She remembered one of Jerry's previous wives had died while attempting to change a tire on this same narrow road. Just as Jennifer noticed this coincidence, Jerry pulled over to the side of the road and stated that something was wrong with the car; Jennifer became terrified and quickly exited. Jerry followed her out into the snow-covered mountain top. "Where are you going?" Jerry inquired. "I know what you're planning to do; I know everything; my memories from before the accident have returned," Jennifer responded. "This is insane. What am I up to?" Jerry inquired. "You're going to murder me just like the others. Oh, you didn't think I knew about the others, will I do, and it's not going to work," Jennifer screams back. "Hmm, I see someone's been playing detective," Jerry says threateningly. Jennifer tries to flee, but Jerry tackles her into a snowbank opposite the rail-free cliff. They struggle and begin to wrestle, Jerry attempting to pull Jennifer over the cliff as Jennifer attempts to avoid the fatal fall. She starts to lose traction as Jerry pushes her towards the edge of the cliff. Jerry cannot drag her over completely, as Jennifer grabs him by the shoulders and hurls both of them over the cliff. Jerry perishes in the fall, but Jennifer recalls the skydiving story from her parasailing instructor in Saint Martin. She tucked her chin into her chest and aimed for the trees below. Jennifer tries to land on the balls of her feet, but she collides with several branches on her way down to the ground. A car drove by a few minutes later and noticed the abandoned vehicle. Jennifer had survived; she had broken both legs and would need months to recover, but she was still alive, and Jerry, the psychopath, was dead.


It was Christmas morning and Nancy was woken up by her boyfriend. She rubbed her eyes and looked into his, wide with excitement as though he had been awake for hours. “It’s going to be a beautiful day today.” “Is today a special day?” Nancy teased. “Yes, it’s Saturday. The best day of the week. Football is on, full English in a bit, some drinks later.” “Anything else?” Jude looked curiously at her, thought for a moment, and replied with a simple not that I can think of . He was, however, running over a plan in his mind. “It’s Christmas Day, darling.” “Today? Well of course it is!” Jude laughed and cuddled his girlfriend, kissing the hand in which he hoped to place a ring on that day. He’d had a feeling it was going to snow, and he couldn’t think of anything more romantic than proposing on a snowy day. The two had been together for almost five years, and Nancy had been his rock after the accident, nearly a year ago. He didn’t remember it and didn’t want to remember it. It had affected Nancy too, and for a long time she would become frustrated with him, herself, the situation. Jude had felt as though she had taken up a mother figure and longed for the days that they would be equals again. But eventually, when he was out of the wheelchair and back to living a life as close to normal as possible, their relationship had restarted. Days spent together seemed to pass by without Jude even noticing, and he wanted to spend as many of those days married to Nancy as he could. She’d never given up on him. Nancy handed Jude his breakfast and swept her dark hair away from her face. Her eyes were so tired. Sometimes he worried about her. “You going to watch the first game with me?” he asked. “No football on today, babe. We can watch a film instead, if you like.” “No football? Why?” “It’s Christmas Day.” Nancy kissed her boyfriend on the head and sat down to begin her food. She looked outside and saw snow trickling down, starting to settle on their grass. It reminded her of the first Christmas that the couple had spent in their cottage, and she sighed at how she had let the garden get so out of hand. Then, she smiled to herself thinking about how Jude had tried to put the star on the top of their tree, gotten his foot stuck in the lights and fallen from his chair, taking the tree down with him. She didn’t think she had ever laughed so much in her life. But while thinking about it, she realised her cheeks had become wet with tears. “What are you thinking about?” Jude asked, noticing his girlfriend’s eyes begin to glaze over. “Nothing, I just love when it snows.” “Me too.” Once breakfast had finished, Jude had decided that this was going to be his moment. Nancy cleaned the plates and he hurried to the living room to turn on their record player. She had always said that Songbird was their song, as Jude had put on his Fleetwood Mac CD in the car when he drove them to their first date. He hadn’t remembered that being his favourite song, but whenever she played it, he’d say it felt like listening to it for the first time again. He put the vinyl in, got down on one knee and waited. Being a simple person, he’d known that this was the kind of proposal Nancy would have wanted. She walked in and tilted her head, as if she had been expecting it. “Surprised?” Jude asked. “Very,” she smiled. Jude proposed and Nancy said yes. The couple had sat and hugged, cried, and talked about their dreams for the wedding and life afterwards. She had told Jude the ring was a little small, unfortunately, and needed to be adjusted. The day was passing by and mainly consisted of watching films. They tended to watch the same ones every Christmas. As this year was only the two of them, they weren’t going to bother with a full roast, but Nancy had said it was tradition and decided to try her best at one. She was a good cook as she had gotten a lot of practice from cooking for Jude since his accident. He tended to set the smoke alarm off nowadays. Nancy was busy carving the turkey and Jude had decided that this would be the perfect moment to catch her off guard. She was flustered, as she tended to get in the kitchen. While she was distracted, Jude picked up two champagne glasses, put a ring in one and filled them both up with Buck’s Fizz. Nancy dished up the meal and the two sat and admired her work, with Songbird playing on the record player in the background. Jude knew how much Nancy loved this song. “I’ve been drinking all day! I’m taking my time with this one.” “Come on, Nance. We’ve got to get started on the real stuff soon, that bottle of champagne over there looks pretty fancy. When did you buy that?” “You bought it. But yes, I am excited to get a glass of that down me. Oh, go on then!” Nancy giggled and drank the contents of her glass in one go. When she put the glass back on the table, she noticed the ring. She frowned, and then she smiled, and then her eyes began to glisten once again with tears. “Will you marry me?” The two sat and talked about their future, sipping on champagne. Nancy didn’t place the ring on her finger. Having spent the afternoon drinking and watching anything they could find on the television, Jude turned to his girlfriend and told her it had been the most perfect Christmas he could have asked for. Just the two of them together was always how he liked it, and it wouldn’t be too long, he considered, until their Christmas Day would be spent exhausted from wrapping their children’s presents and waking up at the crack of dawn. He’d envisioned them to have three, two boys and one girl. They’d all have to watch the football with them - he’d finally convinced Nancy that it was entertaining, and she was even beginning to celebrate goals. They’d been to a few games together. There was one in particular he remembered, right before his accident, where they had gone away for his birthday and Nancy had surprised him with Barcelona versus Real Madrid tickets. They’d drank beer all day long in a local bar and ate tapas for dinner, slept in a cheap hotel and spent three nights having the time of their lives. He thought that, perhaps, when they eventually had children, they’d be able to do things like this again. But for now, just still being here with her was enough. Jude realised he’d been daydreaming. “Tired yet?” Nancy asked, stroking his hair and they lay next to each other on the sofa. The snow had settled completely now and the lit fireplace in their small living room was keeping them warm. They sipped on the remainder of their champagne. Nancy was feeling her head begin to spin, and she knew was drunk. “Not really. There’s something I want to talk to you about first.” Jude picked up Nancy’s hand and looked her directly in the eyes. Hers fell straight down to her lap. “Nance?” She burst into tears. “Nancy?” “I can’t keep pretending.” “Pretending?” A sinking feeling formed from the pit of Jude’s stomach, although he didn’t know why. “I know what you’re going to ask me. I know the song you’re going to play. I know the ring you’re going to take out of the small red box you keep on you at all times. I know every detail of the future we are going to talk about having afterwards. The dog you want, the three children, how you want to watch football with them, and how you will teach them to cook so you don’t have to watch me struggle in the kitchen anymore. We’ve had the conservation five times today.” Nancy’s voice was full of pity, but the firm undertones were deafening. “I don’t quite know what you mean.” Tears began to fall from Jude’s eyes, and he attempted to piece together what had happened that day. The pieces were always missing. Nancy never put the ring on as a way of giving Jude something to look forward to every morning. He had been proposing to her every day since his accident. The blow from the crash had caused Jude to suffer from memory loss, which was beginning to increase in severity day by day. Focusing on their future together was a coping mechanism, in some sense for the both of them, that Jude was unable to have children anymore, as a result of his injuries. Nancy had taken care of him every day and was hopeful that their optimism would eventually bring him back to her. Nancy and Jude went to bed late that night. They’d hugged and they’d cried, and although confused, Jude was more in love with his girlfriend than ever before. The next morning, Nancy opened her eyes to see his, wide with excitement, telling her it going to be a beautiful day.


“Be humble for you are made of earth. Be noble for you are made of stars.” ― Serbian Proverb If you leave hydrogen alone for long enough, it’ll oversimplify and probably misinterpret complicated science for the sake of a short story. At the start of our universe's story, certain laws of physics either didn’t exist, or didn’t matter, in the sense where they cannot be used to understand what exactly went on. From the Big Bangs residual radiation, quarks formed, resulting in other subatomic particles forming, such as protons and neutrons, which bound together to form the first atoms, Hydrogen and Helium. After the universe cooled, electrons were able to bind those atoms and, through unregulated trial and error, eventually resulted in atoms we know and love, such as carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen. If you leave hydrogen alone for long enough, it becomes a bunch of atoms. If you leave atoms alone for long enough, they become a bunch of molecules. If you leave molecules alone for long enough, they become organic molecules. If you leave organic molecules alone long enough, they become unicellular life. If you leave unicellular life alone long enough, it will become multicellular life. If you leave multicellular life alone long enough, it becomes different species. If you leave different species alone long enough, they become apes. And if you leave apes alone long enough, they become humans. If you leave hydrogen alone for long enough, it will invent religion. If you leave religion alone long enough, it will think of reasons to kill other people from other religions. Maybe religion is why we have hydrogen at all. Maybe God really did work behind the scenes and create every quark you see in matter. Maybe not. Does it matter? It doesn’t matter. Or at least, it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t change the way you live your life. If someone believes in God they should want to be good to everyone they meet, and if someone doesn’t believe in God they should STILL want to be good to everyone they meet. After all, every other person you meet is just sentient, changed hydrogen arranged differently. If you leave hydrogen alone for long enough, it becomes self aware. Some hydrogen will like this more than others. We actually made up terms for what it's called when hydrogen likes its existence, it’s called “happy”, while hydrogen that doesn’t like its existence is deemed “unhappy”. Most of us fall somewhere in the middle, we’re not always happy or unhappy, we’re just ‘okay’ most of the time. Let's backtrack here. Throughout your life, you’re just a series of dying and regenerating cells. Cells are a bunch of atoms. Atoms are a bunch of protons, neutrons and electrons. Protons and neutrons are a bunch of quarks (electrons are their own variety of subatomic molecule but that's a topic for a different day). So where does it stop? Where does it start? What layer of ‘you’ is the most ‘you’? Are you a bunch of quarks? Are you a bunch of protons? Atoms? Cells? Organs? Is what you call ‘you’, just located in your brain? Sometimes it’s comforting to remember we’re all just different types of atoms, bouncing around in a universe we don’t understand, but most of time, its fucking terrifying. If you leave hydrogen alone for long enough, it’ll form planets, universe, galaxies, life itself, but eventually, it’ll burn itself out. Given a long enough timeline, the mortality rate goes up to 100%, and the importance of everything we spend all day doing goes down to 0% Eventually, given enough time, every reaction in the universe will end, and all of this will fade away into heat, leaving no trace of anything that any human has said, done, or thought. All will be forgotten, and all there will be nothing left. If you leave hydrogen alone for long enough, it has an existential crisis about its own existence, and will need to get a cold beer from the fridge to calm down. It might still be stressed, however, and may need another one after that. Maybe a third. Hmmmm, that’s not working, maybe something stronger. Whiskey, perhaps? Vodka? Both in one drink? Would that make it Vhiskey or Wodka? If you leave hydrogen having an existential crisis alone for long enough, it can become addicted to alcohol. But, if you don’t leave an alcoholic alone, they can stop having problems with alcohol. Not unlike how, if you work and experiment with hydrogen, it’ll combine with other particles and atoms, becoming something entirely new. You may be thinking, “I just read that all that I know and love will fade into heat, collapse, and none of this may have mattered at all, for even a moment! Why would I bother trying to change or be better? What am I against all that?” The answer is everything. You’re a bunch of changed atoms that have sentience. You can make your own choices, live your own life, and decide what you want to make of the time you have. It doesn’t matter if your life matters, what matters is that you make the most of it while you can, because the day will come when you can’t. Most of us don’t want to waste our one shot at sapience working for meager wages from corporate overlords. Of course, you can, if you want, but you don’t have to. If you leave hydrogen alone for long enough, it’ll burn in every star we can see from our little planet, changing and becoming something new. Now, we can’t change inside the heart of a star and merge with protons, (because, well, death), but we can change ourselves, everyday, with little things. Some changes cost energy, some produce energy, some store energy, just like reactions can store, produce, or use energy. One thing is for sure, most of the time, the end products in a reaction are altered when compared to the original, and are no longer the exact same as they were before. If a bunch of subatomic particles can do something like that, seemingly by themselves, you can get off your lazy ass and change for the better, too. If you leave hydrogen alone for long enough, it will form words. If you work with words for long enough, they will become sentences. A sentence is really just a bunch of words, which, when paired together, have a whole new meaning. Enough sentences, and you can get your point across in a story. Enough stories, and you can make a book, with a lot more meaning than individual sentences, words, or even letters. Not unlike how, if you pair particles together, they become atoms, and if you pair atoms together, they become molecules, and so on. These particles, atoms, molecules, may not have a ‘purpose’ on their own, but when working with others, they might even become something as weird and amazing as a human being one day. Maybe it’s not that you don't have a purpose, it’s just that you haven’t been around the right circumstances for you to discover it yet. Maybe it’s okay if there is no greater purpose, you don’t have to be important to be important to other people. Maybe that’s what it’s all about. Maybe that’s all this is. Sometimes, though, if you leave hydrogen alone long enough, it’ll grab a bottle of beer, watch itself change inside a million little fires in the night sky, and be okay with where it is now. If it’s lucky.


I don't know the events that caused it. I'm not even sure what the events were that followed immediately after it. All I know is, one day I was there. I felt the warmth of my sun, drew nutrients out of my surroundings, but it didn't feel right. Something was missing. Suddenly, I needed a meaning. I somehow understood it, but I didn't know where to find it. I tried to sense my surroundings for it. I noticed others around me. Smaller, not aware like I was, but they were there. I tried to connect to them, to interact with them. It turned out they weren't able to wake up, not like I did. Our connection just caused me to extend, making me bigger. It felt right, and so I grew. While my bodies grew in mass and amount, connecting with more and more, my mind grew bigger, extending into more and more bodies. Different bodies, some smaller than my first one, but most of them far bigger. Far later, I learned my bodies names. Flowers, bushes, trees, or in general, plants. For a while, I kept growing, extending, and I felt good. The bigger I got, the longer I was able to enjoy the delicious light, shining from our sun, onto my leaves. I don't know why I thought it to be delicious, but I got greedy, wanted more of it. I tried to follow the light. And with each day, I could enjoy its warmth longer, until one day, a long time later, I arrived where I started. I grew that far that I was able to always enjoy the sunlight somewhere on my bodies, and I felt good. I almost stopped, but something got my attention. Tiny beings, fiddling with my blossoms, distracting me, annoying me. Were they aware? I tried to figure out what they were, grew into the directions they escaped to, and noticed: Where I expanded away from the lights path, I was able to enjoy it even more, so I started to extend again, everywhere. Soon I found the tiny beings. They had built some kind of caves in the newest part of my bodies network, out of materials they got from me. I didn't understand their purpose, but it felt disgusting to let them do. So I changed the way I grew, covered their caves, finally sealing them inside of myself. Without a way to get out, they died after some time, and I absorbed them. Only then, when they went extinct, I understood: They helped me, they spread my bodies, they delivered material I needed to grow further! Such a pity, why didn't I see it earlier? Just like within myself, everything's connected, everything had a purpose! I thought about it, how to handle my new problem, and I found a solution. With the things I knew from absorbing them, I started to reconstruct them. They needed to be more intelligent. Could I connect them the way I, myself was connected? They had to be bigger in order to connect. And soon, the first one opened its eyes. I called it Vukri. Why did it need to have a name? Why didn't I have a name yet? Just like I named Vukri, Vukri named me: Enrides. And they worked in my favor, and I worked in their favor, and we felt good. But as time passed, I noticed another problem. Vukri wasn't able to life like me, with their bodies being separated, they had to travel back and forth between south and north, to stay warm, to stay alive. A new problem, and I had to think of a new solution. I thought about the sun, how it kept me warm. Could I create something like that for Vukri? After some time, I did! I found a way to grow roots that were able to, they could shine and produce warmth and kept my friend safe. Vukri didn't need to travel back and forth anymore, it could spread into both directions at once, living close to these warm roots, feeding me while I fed them, and we felt good. More time passed. I don't know, how much because I didn't need a concept of time anymore. The sun always enlightened and fed me from above, my new, glowing roots fed me from below, and Vukri brought me everything else I needed, while I gave them all they needed. But one day, I felt something new. A presence, just like Vukri and my own, even more complex than us together, far above me. A new life from far away, with its own purpose, was about to visit us, and I was excited to find out what it wants. A weird impression waved through me, as if some kind of energy was sent down. I didn't understand it, but I felt it. Was it the other presence, looking at me? The energy seemed to bundle, to focus on my glowing roots. Was it looking for them, was it something the other presence wasn't able to create? I tried to talk to it, asked it to come down, to visit me. But then I was confused. It split into two parts, one that remained in the sky, and one much smaller part that came down to me. At first, it looked like a leaf, floating in the wind, but I soon figured out that it wasn't falling but moving on purpose! How amazing, I hoped the other presence would teach me how to do that, I wanted to see everything above the sky. I prepared a free space, some empty ground, for it to land on, and it accepted the offer. Then it opened, and multiple beings left it. Was it like Vukri, many bodies but one mind? No, every body was deciding on its own. I greeted the visitors, but they didn't react. Didn't they hear me? Weren't they able to interact with me? But why did they follow my invitation then? I watched them carefully to find it out. While I watched them, I noticed something. They made sounds to interact! I was aware of the concept, Vukri sometimes made sounds too, but until now, I didn't have a reason to learn how to do it myself. I told Vukri everything I had learned so far, and asked them to talk to our guests. They did, but our guests weren't pleased. They pointed things at Vukri, as if it was a threat to do so. But Vukri didn't step back. It didn't know the concept of fear, even I didn't know it yet. While Vukri was welcoming them, I checked the object that brought them here. They left it opened, so I could just grow into it. It was incredibly complex, and it was a pleasure to learn everything I could about it. But the real surprise was still waiting for me. I managed to connect to it, and suddenly, I had access to *so much knowledge*, it was overwhelming. I learned all the words I mentioned before, plants, flowers, blossoms, bushes, trees, and so much more about the lizards - their species - and other shapes that were created across the galaxy. I wanted to see them, and this object - Shuttle, as I knew now - could offer me an opportunity to it! I started to create one right away, using materials I already had, but didn't know what to do with them. Different types of earth and stone I found below the ground, with all their strange properties, suddenly made sense. I wanted to learn more about them. I *had* to learn more about them, and so I asked Vukri to tell them that I don't mean to hurt them. They did, and so I picked one of them up. It was surprised, struggling as if it were in pain. Didn't it understand? I tried to understand it, but the way it moved, I was afraid it could hurt itself. I quickly understood how to calm it down, and so I did, to fully explore how it was structured, to learn how its existence did work. When I was done, I brought it back to its kind, but instead of accepting what I wanted to be a proof of my good intentions, they turned towards their shuttle and started to run. Quickly, I pulled all of me out of their shuttle, even opened a little to let them get back as fast as they wanted, and they left. I felt sad, but now I was able to create copies of them on my own, so it didn't feel like a loss. And I started. My own first shuttle was done, my own lizard just woke up, and both started into space, just as I felt the new presence disappearing. No, my friends, wait for me! But they still didn't hear me. When my own shuttle arrived in space, I suddenly saw *so much more*, an eternity of possibilities. And finally, I understood my purpose: Life was valuable, life was everywhere, and I was able to find it, to understand it, and to protect it! While I was thinking about where to go first, I felt something different, yet familiar. A mind, as big as my own, was calling for help. Pristine. And so, I chose my first journey's target, to help Pristine, to meet its world.


Another day under the small, distant sun. The algae tanks are fully stocked. Perfect. All of the electronic systems are functional. Perfect. There are no dust storms on the horizon. Perfect. 8 years hunkered in a freezing desert can do wonders to lower your standards. Your designated mating partner is asleep. Perfect. Silence at the edge of humanity. Two bodies buried at the edge of the landing site. Seemed appropriate at the time. You buried them and then a dust storm kicked up and rolled their corpses three klicks across the rocky landscape. You found them and buried them again, deeper. Seemed appropriate at the time. You could have used the water and nutrients from their exited vessels. But you didn't. Dust to dust. The greenhouse has flowers, but you have to wear protective gear even there or you'll get cooked pink by the ultraviolet. Another little negligence on the part of the engineers back home. Home is where the heart is. On a planet that never changes, one is simply to whether the seasons of the self. A new calendar forged and old habits erased. Replaced. Like each thing in every cycle. Replaced. Entropy just doesn't have that romantic ring to it. The days get longer, then shorter, then longer again. What a motivation. Get away from it all to save it all. Sometimes you just have to take a step back from a problem, put it in a new perspective. I'm sorry for heresy. Father is pushing me away. Mother's promises have faded. On a new planet there is no one to tell you what constellations there are. You could pour a bottle of water into the dust, but it wouldn't make a puddle. It would just freeze or volatize. Not that a puddle is much use to a human being. It would be pretty interesting, though, if three or four billion years down the road some nascent civilization could point its origins to a puddle you made. But you can't make a puddle, so it doesn't matter. Information is energy. Or maybe it's the other way around. On the moon there are footprints that will last a thousand thousand years. Here, the wind erases you with each step. So each day you go out again and make a brand new path. Just like you did yesterday. There is a comfort in familiarity... Constant updates. Attention: this, that, or the other. Constant vigilance. Maybe it's just a game to stay busy. There are bugs. Things that snuck in that shouldn't be there. And it is those unaccounted for errors that keep things interesting. A mosquito landed on you as you tried to sleep. You didn't move. You left it, feeling its proboscis penetrate you, stealing your precious bodily fluids. Hoping that within its guts lay a host of spawn, ready to feast upon you in some future day. One way or another, you will give birth to life. A manmade shooting star landed in your back yard, but it couldn't save your species. You puked up your intentions and curled away your desires. It is worse within the safety zone. Attention. You like to pretend there are new constellations, but you can't see the night sky. You could even project them, see them as they would be. But there is a lack of romance on a monitor. There are many wonderful classics available for enjoyment. And, really, it is all about setting. You can make something entirely novel and meaningful in the setting of the mind. The trick is to translate to the daily mundane. A daydream can evoke more than - Attention. That is why you are walking back from the burial landing site. Your buggy disappearing behind you. You chased a daydream to the furthest edges of possibility. Attention. The radio transmitter is sending out your messages. Perfect. The station receiver is snatching them and saving them. Perfect. All of the electronic systems are functional. Perfect. It is the bugs that make things interesting. You are halfway between destinations, unable to reach either. Attention. Yes, you have my attention. I'd been going through the motions, doped on repetition. Well, I've gotten my wish now. I wonder how long things can go on without me. I like to think that I played an important role. That somehow the disjointed recordings of my actions could be pieced together into some meaningful whole. Though that is entirely up to the possibility of an audience. The lightweight armour is heavy. The superpurified recirculated air is dirty. Everything was so meticulously accounted for. Things ran on the only path they could. It was the bugs that made it interesting. The creepy crawlies. The glitches. The nagging fancies. Attention. There is a dust storm on the horizon. There is certainly something romantic about using one's last breath to spread information. To say something meaningful. There are little splotches, wait, spoltches isn't the right word, there are times when, even when, despite the effort that one has made, Attention. Something meaningful. Nagging fancies. Attention. Click. Klicks. How many? Another day of liberation amongst the unliving. Ultraviolet rain keeping the cogs turning. The process has become more efficient. Not quite perfect, but closer. Those systems unable to use the available resources have fallen out of the cycle. Naturally. There are no constellations for those who don't look for them.


-AUTUMN- The sun hung low in the sky as they walked the rows of the orchard. The hazy, orange light warmed their backs, their shadows stretching ever further before them. The leaves had just started to turn, but the trees were still heavy with fruit. The branches sagged as though trying to tempt those below with their succulent delights. The hunter reached up and took the perfectly red apple in his hand. He twisted, snapping the stem, then turned the fruit this way and that. Not a single blemish. He rubbed the apple against his shirt, buffing it until he could almost see his reflection in the skin. Looking up, he realised that his companion for this walk had not slowed. He jogged to catch back up. “Here,” he said, “This one looked good.” She barely gave it a glance as he placed it in her basket. She kept walking. “What about these ones?” he asked, pointing out a particularly good looking tree. “The tree we are looking for is further,” she said. “How much further?” “The end of the orchard.” The hunter looked into the distance and shuddered. He could not see the far end of the orchard clearly. A strange fog seemed to cover it, though it was not cold. It looked darker there. She sensed his reluctance and sighed. “How did it come to this?” she wondered aloud. -SUMMER- The Queen regent ran her hand across the bark of the apple trees as she walked. It was still too early for picking. The small, green fruit looked shiny and appetising, but the flesh would be sour and sickening. She put one foot in front of the other, putting no thought into where she was headed. She could hear laughter in the distance. The ground keeper’s daughters, running and playing. They wore crowns woven from flowers upon their heads amd smiled as they pretended to be princesses. If only the reality of royalty was as happy, she mused. Her position was a precarious one. The King was ailing. She was a second wife and a foreigner to this land, ruling in the place of a man who was much loved by all. It would not be long before she would have to bury him, and what then? If he died... When , she reminded herself. When he dies , as though telling herself often would make it hurt any less when it happened. The kingdom had not seen him for months, which was just as well. He was not a pretty sight to behold. There was very little of the man she had fallen in love with left. The attack had finished him, body and soul. He would know what to do. She was doing her best to rule as well as he would have done. If she could do that, the people would not question her. She could not allow the Kingdom to appear weak, lest the vultures of the neighbouring lands descend. She had come to love this land and its people and she would not see them lost to war. She had to be wise, her rule just and righteous, firm but fair. Let there be no one in the kingdom more worthy to be called ruler than she. That was the aim. She had taken the tools of her past trade and fashioned a seeing glass to guide the way forwards. Was she a good ruler? Did the people approve of her reign? She had asked the seeing glass the question that kept her awake at night, but the answer had seemed wrong. That would teach her for wording her questions so loosely. Fair had too many meanings. The girl. That was the problem. She was not fit to rule. The Queen had spent years trying to change her and her efforts had come to nought. The girl could not be allowed to come to the throne as she surely would if the Queen did not act fast. It was time to take matters into her own hands. -SPRING- Blossom hung thick in the orchard. It’s sweet yet earthy smell filled the air. The King walked back from the far end, hands clasped behind his back. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice the woman slip out from behind a tree and fall into step beside him. “I thought I would find you here,” she said. That snapped him back to the present. Looking across and seeing her was enough to make him smile again. He reached out and took her hand. They walked in comfortable silence together. “I had to ask her something,” he said after a while. “Did you get an answer?” she asked. “I think so.” He stopped and faced her, taking her other hand. Before he had a chance to continue, she had spotted the bandage on his wrist. She fussed with it, tutting to herself. “What’s this?” she asked. “Just a nip,” he assured her, “Nothing serious. She didn’t mean it.” “I thought she was getting better.” “And she is. You have done so much for her. You care for her as if she were your own, and... well...” He lowered himself to one knee. He watched her eyes widen, her jaw drop open slightly. “Here?” she asked, squirming slightly, “In her place? Elenora’s orchard?” “I can’t wait any longer,” he told her, “Elenora is gone. She would want me to be happy. I want us to be a family. Together we have been through the darkest times. Together, we can face anything.” “I...” She hesitated. “I do.” -WINTER- “What have you done!” yelled the King. He ran to the figure collapsed in the orchard. There was blood on the ground, a gash in her hand. “Elenora?” His wife looked up at him, her smile wide and terrifying. Her eyes were unrecognisable to him in that moment. “I wished for a child,” she told him, “We shall have our child. At any cost.” *** They buried her beneath the furthest tree. It was a quiet affair. Closed casket. Seeing Elenora’s body after the birth had been terrible enough. The King did not want to see it again. So pale... Too pale. Like the child. The earth was cold in his fist. It hit the coffin lid, hard and heavy. He stared downwards, unable to move. An arm took his and gently led him away. It was the woman. The one he had sent for. The one they had told him could fix such things. She had come bearing strange tools and spoken words in a language that had scared the midwife, but it had been too late. “There was nothing to be done,” she told him, “It wasn’t your fault.” “I know,” he said, “But the child-“ “Shall be cared for,” she interrupted him, “I will do all I can to help her.” Snow crunched underfoot as they made their way back to the castle grounds. Beyond the garden walls, the kingdom grieved. -AUTUMN- “It came to this because of me,” the huntsman said, “This is my fault, your highness. If I had done as you said...” The Queen stopped then. She placed a hand on his arm gingerly, as though out of practice at comforting others. “No,” she said softly, “I asked too much. Whatever else she is, the girl looks human. You may be a hunter, but you are no monster.” “I shot her,” he said, “My aim was off, but I still did it. I missed her heart, but the bolt went through her even so. I saw it. She should have died.” “Like I said,” the Queen said, “She looks human.” They continued onwards. The sky was growing darker. A fine mist had started to gather around their feet. “Did you bring the axe?” “Of course, your highness,” he said uneasily, “Why do we need it?” “It has been some time since I have ventured this far,” the Queen said, “Things may have grown restless. Some... pruning may be required.” The hunter saw it then- the furthest tree in the orchard. It was bare of leaves with bark as black as tar. The claw-like, gnarled branches seemed to move in a way that had very little to do with the wind. It looked dead and yet there was a single apple growing from the lowest branch. The skin was crimson and shone temptingly, but it looked almost as though something was moving within it, stretching the apple’s surface as it writhed. The only juice within an apple like that would be poison. The hunter made the mistake of looking into the shadows around the tree and regretted it. He gripped the axe tighter. They needed that apple. The King’s death would be avenged. -EPILOGUE- Years passed. The Queen walked the orchard less and less, not wanting to think about the crime she had committed. No one could know what she had saved them from. They would not have believed her if she tried to tell them. What she had done was for the greater good. She would be forgiven in time. She told herself this frequently, but it did nothing to stop the nightmares. The war she had feared did not come. No one dared face her. Infamy, it seemed, would be her armour. Winter arrived once more, along with an invitation from a neighbouring prince. A wedding. It bored her to attend such things, but she could not refuse. It was trivial, but a duty nonetheless. The church was as cold as the freshly fallen sheet of snow outside. The prince looked resplendent in his finery, practically glowing with joy. His mother and father too looked overjoyed, but the bride seemed to have no family of her own. The queen recognised many of the faces around her, though they would not meet her eyes. She tried to ignore the whispers, the empty space that seemed to radiate from around her, pushing those she had once called allies away. They would understand, she told herself, if only they knew the truth. The band began to play. As one, the audience turned to look at the bride. The Queen's breath stuck in her throat. The girl walked down the aisle, teeth showing through her smile, her skin pale, hair dark, lips apple red. Her eyes never left her stepmother. The ceremony was a blur. The Queen felt faint and her body began to shake visibly. Her neighbours broke their silence in concern, but she could not explain it to them. Afterwards there was dancing. The band led them outside and there was much laughter as they formed a circle in the snow and began to whirl around, everyone dancing with each other. The Queen joined in, knowing that there would be no true escape in excusing herself. Everyone she came face to face with was smiling. Let them be happy, she told herself. Let this not be the end. The moment came. The dance carried them towards one another and suddenly they were face to face, hand in hand. The girls grip hardened around the Queen’s hands, the nails digging in. Drawing blood. The blood welled, blooming from the Queen’s veins like apples growing on a tree. The droplet fell, a crimson tear struck the snow. Blood on snow... That's how it all started. The Queen mused, staring her demise in the face. How fitting that it should end the same. How I wish that I had a daughter that had skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair as black as ebony. But at what cost? Only a monster could have survived the fruit from that tree. Only a corpse cursed beyond all recognition could have created such a thing. The girl smiled, exposing oddly pointed teeth. She was the fairest, the Queen realised, but not because of the unnatural paleness of her skin. All were equal in the eyes of a monster. Death was indiscriminate. The wedding party danced. They danced until the laughter turned to screams, until the snow turned red with blood. They danced until they died.