“Alexander, I need you to make me an oath.” My brother, Edmund, said. His eyes never left the fresh graves of his wife and son. “Of course, what is it that you had in mind?” I replied. “If I was to ever turn, I want you to put me down.” A stiff breeze blew through our family’s estate as I stood there dumbstruck and confounded. How would one respond to such a mad request? Edmund turned to me; his eyes glazed with tears as he struggled to keep his composure. “Please, I beg of you.” As I attempted to respond, he collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands. The emotional dam burst, and he began to bawl. He cried with a ghastly symphony of howls and sniffles as he lamented the loss of his true love as well as his flesh and blood. I crouched down to his level and held him like a father holds a pained child. I rubbed his back in a bid to calm him down. “Listen, Edmund.” He did not stop but quieted down to let me know that he would listen. I let out a deep sigh, “I do not think that it will ever come to that point.” I stopped for a second and thought it over. The sheer thought of my little brother turning into one of those things sent a chill down my spine. I shook away the thought and continued, “But if it did, I would be the one to put you out of your suffering. You have my word.” That was years ago, 1891 to be exact. We both went our separate ways after that. The corruption was difficult for all people no matter who they were or where they were. No one is quite sure how it started. Some believed it to be a plague brought in through the east. Others believed it is a worldwide hex created by a witch resurgence in the United States. There are even those who would believe that it is divine punishment. The hows, whats, and whys don’t matter right now. Whatever it is, it has the horrific effect of transforming people into horrific, deadly, and unstable monsters. Before they are turned, people described someone, or something, had called out to them with the offer of great power to help them. It makes sense because those that are turned are always those in need or in pain, whether it be physical or emotional. Normally, their call is easily disregarded, but fear and desperation can take anyone to the brink. No two Turned are the same, the corruption relied on the person’s own personality as well as their wants and needs. In my time, I have witnessed horrid mutations like a young lady who suffered from a phobia of fire turn into a hideous witch with the gift of pyromancy, or an old man terrified of growing old and frail become a volatile mountain of muscle. These people known as the *Turned* are hazardous and are to be exterminated at once. Now, Edmund was a gifted doctor and used our families wealth to put himself through medical school. He even started his own office at the manor, so that he could help more people. After the corruption, his skills were in high demand as many had either fallen to the corruption or became victims of the Turned. The English military even hired him to exclusively use his services. As for me, I wasn’t that smart. Being the first born son, my parents had left almost everything to me, but I rejected it. I instead opted to give it to Edmund, I knew he would make better use of it. I always knew I would join the English Navy. I joined up as early as I could and made a name for myself as a skilled enforcer and rifleman. That eventually led to me in my current job of eradicating the Turned for the English military. The last thing I wanted was to receive notice that my family’s manor was labeled by the military as lost to the Turned. Unfortunately, that is exactly what I received. I immediately gathered my supplies and set off for the manor, I knew what I had to do, and I dreaded it. The estate was a good couple of hours outside of London on horseback. I couldn’t use those new motorized vehicles, they were too loud and unreliable for my job, so a couple of horses and a wagon worked fine. I had left after midnight; it was safer to travel that way. The cover of darkness masked my approach, and the rain dampened my noise. The wind howled like a wolf, and the rain poured like a waterfall, blanketed in darkness and water these were less than optimal conditions, but I had to make do. I saw it from miles out, the beacon of light that was the manor sliced through the darkness. I followed the road, a splash of water echoed with each step of my horses. As I approached the front gate, I noticed that it was already open. Hardly a surprise since others like me had already been dispatched to the manor, but they never returned. With the chill of the night having set in on me and my horses, I directed them to a nearby stable that we had in the entrance. I had hopped off the wagon and splashed mud on my boots and trousers. I sighed at the discomfort and untied my horses from the wagon and left them in the stable so they can rest in an area not drenched in rain. The patter of rain filled my ears as I stepped back to my wagon and pulled out my weapons. First was an old family heirloom, a bastard sword that I had refurbished for combat. Its shiny steel surface sullied by scratches and notches in the blade, each one represented a Turned that had been ended by the sword’s cold metal. Second, an experimental lever action shotgun that I had commissioned from the John Moses and Matthew Sandefur Browning Company in the United States. Lastly, a simple knife that I acquired in my time in the Navy. These Turned were supernatural in nature, but they required no special process to put them down. No holy water, no garlic, and no silver. If it could kill your fellow man, then it could kill them. I slung the gun over my shoulder then holstered the sword on my waist and approached the entrance. I took care to not to slip on the smooth stone steps as I came upon the front door. Mere inches from the door, I took a deep breath and steeled myself for what had to be done. I grasped the cold iron handle of the door and pushed. The heavy wooden entrance gave way and creaked as it exposed the inside of my old home. I then stepped in and forced the door shut behind me as the wind tried to keep it open. I pressed my back against the door and surveyed my surroundings. The wall sconces were lit up and the chandeliers glowed. Beyond the smell of wet leather that emanated from me, I made out the smoky scent of lit fireplaces as their flames danced against the darkness. Their radiant heat warmed the manor but failed to cut through my damp clothes and chilled armor. It was quiet, but the drum-like sound of rain against the window and the persistent howl of wind was all that reached my ears. I unslung my gun and clutched it in the leather wrapped underbelly of my hands. I cautiously walked forward being careful to produce as little noise as possible. The further I moved in, the more the dreadful sickly sweet scent of decay reached my nose. The scent of death was so fierce that I could taste it. A bitter and sour flavor that made my face scrunch up. As I rounded a corner, I froze in my tracks. There down the hall were several bodies mangled and twisted. With my gun leveled I approached, my heart like a steam engine in my chest. As I got closer, I could see that they were well in the stages of decay with dark and bloated skin with a horrific stench that emanated from them. Their uniforms informed me that they were some of the soldiers sent in before me. I attempt to investigate further, but from behind me I hear him talk. “Alexander?” I slowly turn around and that is when I see what my brother has become. “What are you doing here? You shake as if in fear.” His voice broken into two separate vocalizations that spoke in unison. He was horribly altered. His unkempt light brown hair and light green eyes remained, but his body was not the same. He was two full heads taller and wider than me. Long gaunt arms the length of a man hung at his sides each with deformed fingers that ended in large keratin daggers. The sour stench of death came from his now dark purple skin. But his most prominent feature was the massive cavity in his chest. One could fit a whole child in there. “E-Edmund.” I barely get out as I shook like a dog in the rain. I take a deep breath, “Edmund, I’ve come to fulfill my oath to you.” Edmund’s eyes move around slightly as he tries to remember. His eyes widen quickly. “No, I’m so close, you cannot. My actions would be for naught.” He said. Confused I lowered my gun and asked, “What are you talking about?”. He replied, “My brave son and beautiful wife. I have to bring them back to life.” I snapped back, “All you are doing is killing innocent people.” I quickly readied my gun at his head as I could feel the tears as they took shape in my eyes. “You made me take an oath, years ago.” I lowered my finger onto the trigger, “If you were to turn, I would put you out of your misery, brother.” I paused a moment, “I’m here to make good on my oath, I’m sorry, Edmund.” I pulled the trigger, but it went awry as the tip of my gun was forced up and redirected the shotgun blast away from Edmund as he furiously scurried away as dust and debris fell from the newly minted hole in the ceiling. The thing holding my gun was one of the bodies from before, but now reanimated. “What in God’s--” before I could finish, the newly risen corpse repeatedly thrusted a broken saber at me. It managed to pierce my coat several times, but not the metal cuirass I had underneath. I kicked it as hard as I could in its ribs with a loud crack as it tumbled backwards. A dent in his dark blue coat appeared where my foot connected. While it struggled to get up as its limbs lagged behind its torso, I pulled the lever back on my gun. The spent brass casing crashed on the floor with a heavy clang. With a new round in the chamber, I put my foot down on the body to keep it steady as I aimed and fired at its head. A disgusting spray of dark half-rotten grey matter and clotted blood drenched the wall in front of me as the loud thump of the shotgun blast echoed through the manor. “Please, Alexander, leave me. Get out of here now and flee.” Edmund’s voice echoed through the hall. There was still part of him inside that creature, but that only strengthened my resolve. I needed to keep my oath to him. I exited the now soiled hallway I made my way to the room where Edmund did all his work, his study. The trek to his study was a quiet one, save for the rain outside and the distant sound of footsteps. There were more of those creatures in the manor; he had killed many and resurrected them all as part of a horrific experiment, a desperate bid to get his wife and son back. But nothing worked, so he kept at it until the military caught wind and sent soldiers out. As I was within sight of his study, I could hear a commotion behind me. It got louder and louder until a large group of those same resurrected creatures charged at me. I panicked and fired off my remaining five shells at them where a few fell to the buckshot lead wall. I decided to make a mad dash for the study, I had to end this now. I slung the shotgun over my shoulder and sprinted down the hall. The door nearly splintered when I slammed it open and I closed it tight, locked it, and threw a heavy oak cabinet over it. With my left side now in pain from tackling the door, I saw Edmund who stood in the corner, motionless as he looked my way. Sadness and anger welled up in me as I unsheathed my sword. “No more running, Edmund. I can’t stand seeing you like this. I’m putting you out of your misery!” I yelled out to him. “Leave now-.” I didn’t care what he tried to say, I charged at him and swung down as hard as I could. He attempted to block with his arms, but the blade cleaved through one arm and damaged the other. Viscous dark blood screamed from his wounds as it filled the room with its vile metallic scent. He roared out at me like an enraged bear. He used his remaining good hand and struck me back. I flew backwards into his bookshelf with a large thud. I gasped for air as I struggled to get on my hands and knees with my newly dented chest plate. Books tumbled down around me while I reached for my sword, but Edmund grabbed me. He dug his claws into my shoulders around the armor and one claw rested on my face. He slowly squeezed with each claw driving itself further into me like a hot knife through butter. As blood trickled down my face, I reached into my coat and pulled out my spare knife. With all the strength I could muster, I brought the knife to the underside of his arm and sawed my way to bone. With his tendons cut, his grip vanished, and I worked my way free. After a yelp of pain then a quick stumble, I reacquired my sword and brought it down on his neck. The blade stuck halfway in, but I placed my foot on his shoulder and yanked. Blood sputtered from his neck as he reached up at me with limp fingers. I readied my sword and swung once more. The blade cleaved through the remainder of his neck. His head was severed and dropped to the ground with a thud. I breathed a sigh of relief as I looked down at my bloodstained sword when I heard several other thuds beyond the door. I peeked out to find the reanimated dead once again, their source of power gone. I looked over at the corpse at what was my brother and collapsed, both from exhaustion and grief. I never thought that he would be one to turn, but it seems that it could happen to anyone. I took his body out of his study. Turned or not, he deserved a proper burial. I buried his corpse right next to the wife and child he cared so much for. He wanted them back so badly that he let himself become corrupted. As I stood there over the same graves where my oath was made, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could be next to turn. I could hear the dreaded call of the corruption as I stood there with tears in my eyes at his grave.


Sitting there on the cold, hard, tiled floor, it really put things into perspective. Namely, what I was about to do with a loaded semi-automatic 9mm pistol in my hand, the end of the barrel pointing towards the side of my head. Bracing myself for the loud noise and the bright flash of light, I pulled the trigger and the familiar darkness clouded my vision as I began to slip from this world to the next, and just before I left this plane, I was pulled back, like a fish on a hook. I opened my eyes to find a blood-stained bullet laying on the tiled floor, smoke slowly rising off of it due to the residual heat. I knew this was going to happen. Why did I even think that this was going to work? Of course she wouldn’t let me die. I heard a feminine voice coming from the kitchen. My gaze and attention snapped to the door of the bathroom. It was that same voice I’d heard all those years ago, back when I was young and foolish. It’s funny how the choices we make as teenagers lead to things like this later in life. For some people, it’s a regrettable tattoo or a failed exam. For me, it was immortality, a seemingly perennial life. Right on cue, she walked through the door. She was a very pale, short, slip of a girl, dressed in a black, loose-fitting t-shirt and tight trousers that rolled down to her ankles. Her feet were open and bare, exposed to the cold air of the room, her face was made up of clear skin, framed by shoulder-length dark hair, a black ring adorning her nose, and lipstick painting her lips black. She was pretty. She was cute. She was Death. Let me explain this a little better. The young woman in front of me was the fourth Horseman, the embodiment of death. She had inherited her title from her father, a well-known figure known as the Grim Reaper. Unlike the Grim Reaper, Death actively caused living people to die according to her list because she wasn’t powerful enough to cause passive deaths around the world, but in time she’d grow stronger, and eventually Death would grow strong enough that even the Grim Reaper wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to her. I met Death when I was 19, a young university student obsessed with the occult who decided to try out the funny looking ritual in a dusty old book in the library’s basement. In hindsight, it was a horrible choice. I completed the ritual and, lo and behold, before me was Death, in all of her terrible glory. Oddly enough, Death and I hit it off and we began to have a sort of fling over the Summer, where I would summon her using the book I’d stolen and we’d go on little dates. Dinner, coffee, the movies, that sort of thing. Soon enough, I’d grown bored of Death, who’d lost her mystique quite quickly, mostly because whilst she looked like a goth and while she may be the embodiment of death, she was a very weird and clingy person. I put it down to her loneliness. Killing people and collecting their souls must’ve been a lonely job and she was probably at the peak of her loneliness when I met her. To cut this love story short, Death became smitten with me as I lost more and more interest in her, and she promised me that no matter what happened, I would always live because she couldn’t bear to see me die and pass on from this world to the next, leaving her alone. By her rationale, as long as I was around she would never be alone again. From that day forward, a mere 20 years ago, I haven’t aged. I *can* die but I always come back just as quick, not a single hair on my head disturbed. You name it, I’ve probably tried it. Chainsaw, bullet to the brain, trampled by horses, falling off a cliff, decapitation. Point is, I’ve done a lot to try to die and so far, none of it has worked. Death was watching me, a wide, beaming smile on her happy face, “Hey John! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I eyed the door just behind her and contemplated running, but it would be useless. She’d find me no matter how far or where I went. “Hey Death, how’s unlife?” Death giggled, “Oh, you know, same old, same old. Mostly boring seeing as I have no one to talk to. It’s quite the coincidence that I happened to be in the area and I sensed that you were close by, I was going to come find you. I miss you.” Coincidence, yeah, coincidence my ass. I cleared my throat, trying to at least sound somewhat excited, “You miss me? I thought you had a boyfriend.” Death’s beaming smile dimmed a little, her brow furrowing slightly, “Of course I miss you. Why would I need a boyfriend when I have the love of my life right here in front of me?” “Love of your life? Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” “No. I love you. You love me too, right?” Her voice took on a sad tone, and her smile all but completely disappeared. While I might not love her, I can’t stand seeing her cry. “Of course I do, you know that,” I swallowed some saliva as I tried to say the next sentence without sounding strained, “do you want to maybe hang out? I’ve got nothing to do, so...” Death’s smile returned, twice as bright as before, “I’d love to! Where are we going?” “I thought we could just chill here, catch up a bit more in-depth.” “Sure!” She exclaimed. Suddenly, her eyes glazed over slightly, a sign that there was someone nearby that she needed to kill to meet her quota, and I knew that she couldn’t see me. “John, I’m really sorry about this but I have to go. Work and all that, you get it right?” “Yeah.” No, not at all. I haven’t worked for over 14 years. Immortality can be a little beneficial in starting up your own business and getting crazy rich off of it. “I’ll be back later tonight though. You better pick out a good movie and snacks.” With that, Death vanished, off to go kill some more people and take their souls. In the meantime, I have to go and prepare for a date with Death. Somebody kill me now, please.


It was late, I was chilling with my laptop in front of me and a cup of warm fruit tea in my hand. I was browsing through YouTube, looking for meaningless forms of entertainment, it was fun at least. I had clicked on a video, ‘*Planting 20 million trees around the world’*, it had started playing. "What a wonderful thing to do!” I thought. As the video reached the climax, my phone buzzed. It was on the coffee table in front of me, but I was already in a comfortable position. “It’s probably just a notification from one of my games.” I thought, “no one messages me anyway.” I decided to look at whatever notification it was after I had finished watching the video. After another 15 minutes, the video ended. At that time, I had already forgotten about the notification on my phone and clicked on another video. As I did, my phone buzzed again. I grudgingly paused the video and stretched my arm out to grab my phone. As I unlocked it, I noticed the notifications were actually messages from my best friend. I opened WhatsApp and read the messages. ‘I can’t believe it bro.’ The next message was a picture, in it was a medical report. I looked at the diagnosis. Stage 4 brain cancer. I was bewildered, I asked if he was serious and if he was joking. He was not, he was already in a hospice. I stood up, forgetting that my laptop was still on my lap, let's just say I had to buy a new laptop. But my friend was more important, I paced my room, still not believing the news. Suddenly, a ringtone. It was him, calling me. I obviously picked up. “Dude, what’s going on? Are you alright? I mean, I guess you’re not. But are you alright?” I was practically shooting questions at him, worried out of my mind. “One at a time, it’s making me lose brain cells,” he replied. “Ok, I'm sorry, what’s happening?” He started talking. Apparently, he was going for a routine medical check-up when his doctor noticed that he had weakened considerably and even fainted in the medical clinic. When he came to, he was in the hospital with an IV drip stuck in his arm. They had done some MRI scans while he was unconscious and discovered the brain tumor. It was cancerous and had already reached the final stage, there was nothing the doctors could do but help him feel comfortable. “It’s rare for people your age to develop stage 4 brain cancer, especially since you don’t have any medical conditions,” he recalls his doctor telling him. His parents broke down right there in the doctor’s office when they received the news. I took a deep breath; I could not imagine life without him. The government had footed his medical bill, so his parents could have ease of mind, but I doubt they would have peace for a while. I’m only 16, I couldn’t do much, so I visited him every day. On days where I could not visit, I would still video call him to check up on him and keep him company. About 3 weeks later, I made my usual visit, went up to his room and greeted him. We talked for a bit, we talked about life. The meaning of life, the afterlife and why we have consciousness. It was getting late; I was getting ready to leave. The doctor had predicted that he had less than a month left, I wanted to spend as much time as I could with him. I thought of asking the doctor if he could leave the hospice, but then I remembered his compromised immune system, even the common flu could kill him at this point. As I reached out for the door handle, I heard him coughing. I turned around just in time to see his EKG begin dropping rapidly. Six doctors and nurses immediately rushed into the room, pushing me aside. I started tearing up, I thought that this would be the end. Then, I heard it. The ominous alert the monitor makes when a person's heart rate has flatlined. The medical team didn’t bother resuscitating him, the cancer had already beaten him. Nothing could be done. I sobbed quietly, knowing that I could never see his face again. I recalled all the joyous moments we had together. The first time we met, the first time we bonded, the first time we went out together and finally the time I received the news. One of the nurses put his hand on my shoulder and comforted me, leading me to the chair outside his room. Hurried footsteps echoed down the hall; his parents. They collapsed in front of his bed, weeping uncontrollably. The nurses all cleared the room, giving them and the doctor some space. I head back inside. The doctor explains everything, how the morgue would handle the body and how the funeral company would help them in gaining closure. Then, something unexpected happened, after the doctor left the room, his parents hugged me thanking me. It turns out, before he had passed, he had told his parents all about me and how my visits and calls have been helping him cope with his illness. I broke down into even more tears, I knew that my visits and calls have been helping him but I did not know it helped him that much. I now know the meaning of life, or at least my rendition. Life has no meaning on its own, being there for someone during their toughest times and sticking with the people you hold dear. That’s what gives life meaning, we exist so that we can be with others who exist and vice versa. We exist as to support those around us, to be someone’s close friend. Because without a friend, you might be alive, but you are not living. As the famous quote goes: ‘A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.’- Lois Wyse.


A cool breeze brushes against Hadr’s brown skin before his feet begin to pound against the dark concrete sidewalk. The young boy is confident that the mechanical beast currently hunting him through the streets of Newon will give up at any moment as he dodges around people and lamp posts. He keeps looking behind him to see if he has finally lost the giant mechanical creature, but the thing begins to pursue him at a fast pace. Hadr looks at the bag slung over his shoulder. The thing inside of it is heavy, weighing him down with every step. Was stealing from the Cosmic Casino, From Anubis himself, really worth it? Hadr shakes his head and slips into a narrow alleyway, catching his breath for a moment. He holds still as the thing moves past his hiding spot, then he stoops down and opens the bag. Inside is a large golden Ankh, the Egyptian symbol for life. It pulses as if it has a heart within it and glows warmly. Yes, it was worth it. He could fix everything... Hadr quickly puts the ankh back, peeking out to find that the coast is clear. He casually walks back the way he had come and into a small apartment building. He runs up the stairs to his flat and enters, locking the door tight. Hadr walks into the main bedroom, pausing. Before him is a frail old woman surrounded by medical equipment, her breathing weak and uneven. Hadr feels tears well up in his eyes as he approaches his dying grandmother, the only family he had left in the dimension of Newon after his mother and father had been brutally killed in a massacre enacted by Circuit-Breaker and his murderous followers. "Grandma?" The old woman stirs, opening her eyes. "I have something that will make everything better, look." He pulls out the glowing ankh, holding it up for her to see. "You... stole it?" Hadr's grandmother breathes. Guilt rushes through him. "Yes, I almost got caught, and one of the guardians is after me." As he says this, the ground begins to shake. "It's coming for me, I need to use it now or I won't be able to, and I'll lose you!" He moves to place the ankh over his grandmother's heart, but she gently grabs his wrist. "No... I can't let you do it..." tears now fully fall from Hadr's eyes, staining the bed sheets. "Why?" "It is my time. I've been having dreams of the spirit dimension, your mother and father are there but they say they don't want to see you joining them there for many more decades." The old woman chuckles softly. "What do I do then? I'll be arrested for sure..." Hadr's grandmother puts a hand on his cheek. "You know you must face the consequences, but I have a feeling it won't be anything severe. I'll always be watching over you, Hadr. Now go..." Hadr forces himself to walk back outside where the mechanical beast waits, his hands up. As he is carried away in the mouth of the creature, Hadr looks up to his apartment window just in time to see a bright light fill the room. *** One year later... Hadr's grandmother had been right, the punishment he had been given for stealing Anubis's ankh was nothing soul crushing or severe. For the past year Hadr was given the task of aiding Anubis in getting lost souls back to the spirit dimension. It had been life changing, and Hadr didn't want to stop. Right now Hadr relaxes in the room he had been in the cosmic casino without a care in the world. But his moment of relaxation is abruptly cut short as a siren begins to wail, a noise that he had hoped he would never hear again. It was the same sound he had heard before his parents had been killed. Hadr leaps up, running out onto the balcony that overlooks the city. He scans the streets below with wide eyes and a pounding heart. Then he sees them, Circuit-Breaker. Hadr retreats back into his room, his adrenaline kicking in. An announcement comes over the intercom system, telling the guests that the Cosmic Casino is going into lock down mode, and that everyone must stay in their rooms for the next few hours. Something inside of Hadr breaks, a wild untamed fury over taking him. He bursts out of his room, ignoring the yelling of security guards who tell him to go back to his room. Hadr makes it out of the casino just as the glowing protective walls go up. Hadr finds himself alone out on the street. His heart pounds. Circuit-Breaker approaches him, the robot's dog-like head cocked to the side. A glowing khopesh appears in Hadr's hand, a gift from Anubis. His eyes narrow angrily, his teeth bared. "I'm going to destroy you, just like you've destroyed the lives of millions of others throughout the multiverse!" He yells. However, his voice is shaky. In a flash, Circuit-Breaker pounces. Hadr brings up the sword, but it is too late. Hadr falls to the ground, a gaping wound on his chest from Circuit-Breaker's golden claws. "Your bravery is admirable, but you are not strong enough to stop me." Circuit-Breaker's emotionless mechanical voice sends chills down his spine. "Do you remember me? I'm the boy of that one family you killed all those years ago." Hadr hisses. He can feel himself bleeding out, his vision going fuzzy. "I have killed many people. You are not special." With that, Circuit-Breaker takes off on his wheeled feet, heading even deeper into the city. Hadr's eyes roll back, and then he feels himself being pulled through what feels like a tight tube and into a blinding light. "Hadr, You are a foolish yet brave boy." Hadr opens his eyes at the voice. The glowing forms of his mother, father, and grandmother embrace him. “I'm sorry I couldn't keep myself alive as long as you all wanted me too...” Hadr says sadly. “None of that matters now. We are together, and that's all we care about now...” Hadr’s family leads him out of the light and into a beautiful grassy hillside. A warm breeze brushes past him.


It all started with a match, one thing lead to another and I met the love of my life or so I thought. I was only 17, I always thought I was to young to be burnt alive, how could someone tell me they love me then set the place I live on fire. You think you know someone until something like this happens, lets actually start from the very beginning, I'm Delilah Grace, as you know I am 17, now this boy I'm talking about his name is Jackson, he is 18, when I first met him he was the kindest guy I have ever met. I met Jack when I was 15. We hit it of immediately, he asked me out the day after we met and of course I said yes because every girl wanted him and he wanted me, it was magical for the first year but after that he became very controlling, he even started physically abusing me, I was 16 I was scared to even tell anyone, I thought I loved him, I didn't find out I didn't love him until I met Dustin, I met Dustin the day I turned 17 he was the new boy next door, we started hanging out often! When Jack found out, that night I thought I was going to die, he beat me so bad that I couldn't walk for an entire week! I still stayed quiet because I was terrified of that man! I would hide the bruises with makeup so my parents couldn't tell because if my dad found out he would probably have put him in the hospital or worse six feet down. The day that dustin found out that jack was hitting on me I'll never forget, I seen a hurt but pissed look in Dustin's eyes. I was a bit confused because dustin was my best friend. "I'm going to beat the living heck out of him!" Dustin Yelled clumping up his fist "Dustin, stop he can't know that I told you or things might get even worse." I told him putting my hand over his shoulder "You deserve so much better, he shouldn't be laying his hands on you, if I see him hitting you I'm saying something and you can't stop me Delilah." He told me shaking his head I sighed and shaked my head, I looked over my shoulder and seen jack and my eyes widen. "U-Uh dustin, maybe you should leave." I said pushing him towards the window He looks back and sees Jack his eyes darken and his jaw tightens. He walks over to Jack and grabs his collar. "Woah, man let's not do this!" Jack laughed Dustin just hits him in the mouth multiple times "dustin stop!" I yelled Dustin gets up wipes his hands off and walks to his house before walking into his house he looks back and yells. "Touch her one more time I dare you!" Jack laughs and walks back into my room, dustin goes in his house "So you told him!" Jack yells balling his fist up "He's my best friend." I answered flinching He hits me in the mouth knocking me down, he starts to kick me in the stomach until I pass out, last thing I remember was him laughing. When I finally woke up, I was no longer in the floor, I wasn't even in my house. I look over and tried to move but I couldn't. I look over to my arms and legs, I was tied up. "Jack! What are you doing, where am I?" I cried "You had to be punished, for telling that fag about me." He laughed climbing near me "please I'm sorry! Please let me go jack." I cried He just laughed and started kissing me, I cried as I felt his body on mine. You can just guess on what happened next. He untied me, and threw a new pair of clothes at me "Come on, let's get you home now. Hopefully that taught you a lesson." He told me driving me back to my house. He drops me off and I limp inside with tears in myself. "Honey, are you okay?" My mom said walking up to me I nod as I walk upstairs and lock my door I walk over to my bed and lay down and just let it all out. See my story hasn't always been the best but it didn't get any better the day that jack decided he didn't want me anymore, lets actually go on from that day! I woke up just another day, it was Saturday which meant no school, I just laid back and relaxed. Jack knocks on my door. "What do you want?" I asked "I don't want you anymore." He told me holding up the match. "What are you doing?!" I screamed "I told you I don't want you, and I can't leave you alive or you will tell everyone what I did to me and get me arrested." He told me pulling out a lighter "Please, jack I won't tell anyone I promise! Don't do this please" I cried out He pulls out his phone and starts recording "Say bye to everyone you want to I'll give you five minutes." He said "I-if your watching this, it means I'm gone, it means the guy who record this decided to do something stupid. Mama remember I love you, daddy know that you have always been my first best friend! Dustin, oh where do I start? You have made me smile so bright, I love you more than words will ever know, I mean I love you more than a friend, please don't blame yourself because it won't be your fault, and lastly I wanna say something to the guy who ruined my life, jack you thought you will get away with this but know that will not be the case, I will haunt you everyday all day until the day you die!" I cried out screaming and flipping him off. He turns off the camera and lights a match and drops it on the floor, he then takes a gas jug and pours it all over the floor and lighting the rest of matches and dropping them in the gasoline, the fire starts and goes a big boom, I feel it get hot and I lay on my bed with tears in my eyes, I feel it touch my skin and I guess it got into my lungs because I just close my eyes and I can't open them back up. I feel someone pick me up and run. ~6 months later~ Hey guys! Didn't I tell you that it doesn't get better, well that's a lie! It gets better but give it time, because if you don't give it time then it won't. So I do have scars from that day, but if it wasn't for Dustin then I wouldn't be alive today, he ran into the fire and saved me I am so grateful for this boy, he asked me out last month, of course I told him yes because I loved him! We are starting our own family, I am currently 6 weeks pregnant with our child! So please be careful and get to know the guy you date so you don't turn out like me!


"I suppose, well. Where should I begin?" Jeoffery asked.  "From when this all began,"  "From what all began?"  "This whole thing."  "Well, if you really want me to go back that far. I suppose it all began a dark and foreboding night, when I was a child. The walls seemed almost illuminate in their extreme lack of lighting. A man, a warming man from across the hall called me saying on how he would love for me, a young child, to take part in some gruesome detail. I, despite my tiredness & reluctance, obliged & as I heard the tapping of what he perceived as his greatest work yet. It seemed almost hypnotic in the way it repeated. I can faintly remember how it hooked me, although everything else seemed to warn of some great tragedy, I drew closer & closer whilst the man drew his hand to greet me. With such a scene I tried, with all my might to resist but his hand snatched, and pulled me onto his lap. And that is when, I was hooked against my will. The tapping persisted, and with such an awfully tempting noise I knew ,that in the deepest of my hearts. Without any contempt. That this would be my calling. This calling would not be voluntary. But, would be instead of that seductive tapping. That special tapping only achieved by what my father did oh-so many years ago. So you see, why I am so demonic in this way. For satan has given me such an awful curse of the pure boiler room of hell. Many years from then to this day I have been unable to shake off that tapping. God have mercy on my sons, for I have felt such a hex on my family and nothing, except a smite from god himself can save us..."  "Oh for fuck sake, just try to talk like a normal person." The Redditor replied with vigour  "But that is my problem, I can't stop writing horror stuff,"  "Well if you keep on talking & writing in such a way you need to be ATLEAST good at it."  "What do you mean."  "Well such as, you could have said something a little less bloated, you literally said for that last paragraph just a few words really which were 'I cannot stop typing in horror and my children might do it too.' and that is it! God don't have mercy on your hex, have mercy on people listening to 90% of what you say! You'd essentially give an essay on why it is overcast if you were a bloody weather reporter."  "It wasn't bloated, it was cool and edgy"  "Oh yes, edgy. Give it a rest, if that was a sword you would basically have an iron rod with a wooden gripy thing at the bottom."  "I don't like you, you... Vile man."  "Hey, you are the person who started this Ask Me Anything post, you are asking for it."  "Well..." He paused at his keyboard... "fuck you.


This story is set in the island of Rambu in planet GAIA2 which is earth’s twin about 8 centuries behind but is still evolving. The king of Rambu summoned his prime minister (PM) who came. The king said “Can you tell me about that man named Poly?” “He is the head of Mother Nature cult and has introduced new types of worship of Nature. He venerates trees and plant life and halts pollution of waterways and rivers. It was he who introduced Nature day when he wants the entire population to bathe naked in the sea to avoid polluting water bodies like rivers. A large number of people are following him and are worshipping his way. He is becoming very powerful.” “I want to talk to him. Summon him to be present in my palace tomorrow morning.” “I can do it but he will come only along with his 5 Divine Daughters.” “Okay, I’m hoping to see him tomorrow.” The next day as the king and queen were holding court, Poly came in. He was accompanied by 5 young women. The queen asked “Who’re those women?” The king said “Those are his divine daughters whom he has enlightened into the ways of his cult. He has taught them the way to heaven.” “The girls look beautiful and he himself looks young and strong. I’m sure the girls can themselves take him to heaven” “Be serious. Remember he is a Man of God.” MAG bowed before the king and the king in turn wished him. The king asked “Will you explain about your Mother Nature cult?” MAG gave a lengthy exposition of his efforts towards conserving the bounties of Nature. The king was very impressed though the queen wasn’t interested. The king gave MAG a gold coin and said “I agree in principle to support your teachings.” The audience ended. MAG went back to his quarter and summoned Suq the witch. She lived nearby and appeared almost instantly before him. She was dressed in the usual style of the islanders only below the waist. She looked only about 30 and well-preserved. Poly said “Suq, I want you to do me a favour. You’ve always cooperated in furthering my interests.” He fished out the gold coin the king had given him and giving it to her said “You’ve the reputation of being a good fortune teller. Go and tell the king that bad times are approaching and that he should retire leaving his son, the prince, to rule.” Though MAG wasn’t specific, she guessed that he wanted the inexperienced prince to rule so that he could easily dethrone him and become king. Suq merely bowed and left. MAG was sure she would carry out his instructions. Suq had a 12 year old daughter Lyra who had just come of age. Suq asked for an audience with the king which was immediately granted as the king patronised her. She said “I have a humble request. My daughter Lyra is now ready to be married. She is very beautiful and talented and above all she has been gifted with three instead of the usual two which women grow. It is an auspicious sign indicating that she will marry royalty. She would be a good wife to the Prince.” The queen said “Suq, how is it none have noticed the anatomical feature?” “She keeps it covered as it could cause jealousy among women and curiosity among men. It has started causing comment.” The queen said “I’ve seen Lyra and approve of the Prince marrying her provided the king consents.” The king nodded when Suq who was very happy said “Your majesty, some discontents in your kingdom are trying to rebel. Your defences need to be very vigilant.” After Suq had left the king summoned his military commander and said “Increase vigilance and see that rebel elements are eliminated.” “I’ll do so immediately.” When the Prince’s engagement to Lyra was announced, MAG attempted to abduct Lyra using his divine daughters but he failed as security had been stepped up. MAG was arrested and questioned with torture when he confessed to plotting the dethronement of the king. On the king’s orders MAG and his divine daughters were exiled from the kingdom. The proposed wedding of the Prince with Lyra had an effect on females of the kingdom. Several of them of different ages including the queen met. The queen said “We’re going to discuss about the upper cloth for women. I remember the joke of long ago that a young girl was passing by on the road when she saw the prince approach in his chariot. She was so overcome by his appearance that she pulled up the cloth at the waist and covered her top. The prince noticed it and asked his minister who said it was only a natural reaction and she had only covered what had come in adolescence instead of what existed since birth. We women are very sensitive about exposing feminine parts.” The following are some of the comments of women who participated: “People want to know why we also shouldn’t cover up like Lyra.” “Lyra’s need is different. We’ve no problem.” “It’s men who have decided about female garments. They hide their family jewels and tell us to cover up unnecessarily.” “I’m proud of what I have and don’t need to cover up.” “If we cover up, men will be cheated as some of us could make meagre, ample. Such falsification of women’s possessions could lead to marital unrest.” “We may never know those who have more than two unless information is leaked.” “Covering up is not the only issue. If a tailored garment is prescribed for the top, it is very important that it allows quick and easy access to what is concealed.” “It is likely the covering up could add to the eagerness of the male to explore and..........” Females did not allow this woman to continue and hushed her up. The queen apprised the king of the views expressed and added “Women are divided about covering up.” The king heard it all and said “It’s against our tradition and culture to cover up.” The queen said “Let us give the freedom to women to show or conceal.” It is understood the option is spreading to other parts of that planet as well! Earth’s twin is still evolving! END NOTE: A story about a three breasted princess occurs in THE PANCHATANTRA , a Sanscrit classic, translated into English by Arthur W.Ryder and has been borrowed to produce this story. *


Fiery red wings flutter agitated, the tips transition from a bright red to burning orange and ending in an effervescent yellow, patterned and striated like the hissing motions of fire. A feathery body of deep crimson red coming into the size of an eagle. An s-shaped neck like a flamingo or goose, and a series of long flowing tail feathers colored reminiscent of the wing patterns. They were longer than the body, and despite this, he flew gracefully. He was a majestic creature, a Phoenix, and last of his kind. And in his talons was a silver platter, and in it, what gave the Sun to the realms. “Duke! Avel!” A woman shouted as the bird flew in closer to her. The Goddess of Fire, lost in a Necrotic Forest without her spouse. “Found the Sun? Well, we gotta get it back to the Altar in the Tree of Life.” She said cheerfully, leaning back as she extended her black wings before adjusting a sturdy chest plate made of a nearly chrome-like metal. “Just need to get out of the Kingdom of the Diseased.” She muttered to herself solemnly as the bird hovered above her, with the Goddess taking the platter of liquid Sun and then set it on the ground, kneeling on one knee as she removed a leather satchel and took out a container. Almost a metal flask or vial she could seal off, she poured the liquid Sun as it radiated a pure, almost holy and immaculate light, watching the ethereal fluid glisten in the chromed vial. Once full she screwed a cap on, and slid it into a pocket on her leather pants. “Stuffs hot Duke.” She said as her companion stretched his neck out and put it against her shoulder as she chuckled. “Still won’t answer me who stole it this time. If it is Yalun’s father again then we’ll have to have a talk. Still, what’s that, the Kingdom of the Diseased? Eh, alright, alright Duke, we’ll talk to them.” Goddess of Fire and the Hunt, Tailka Ogonyon, the last Phoenixborne. Tasked with guarding the only source of light, the only way for crops to grow, and the single most powerful source of magic for the Twelve Kingdoms. It seems everyone wants to steal the Sun and use its power. Yet, Tailka is used to this, she has seen it before, five times in fact. And every time she learns a bit more about the realm she lives in. “Avel, avel!” She said as Duke’s nearly five foot wingspan was on full display, beating his wings and squawking as he took off into the air. Tailka chuckled as she followed the bird through a forest lit up by the moon. Trees with a rotting black bark, the ground corrupted by fungal growth, and the air unwelcoming. The Kingdom of the Diseased, those who lived here, well, were sick. A disease of the Soul. Like a city of lepers they lived in fear, they lived in agony. Neglected by the other Kingdoms, their lives were lonely. The forest got thicker, and large mushrooms could be seen kissing the canopy sky. And as Tailka watched the fiery bird above soar, she saw him come down to a clearing where she thought she could see smoke. Her black wings unfurled as they began to flutter quickly, and she took off, knowing where she was at. Grodon, their one true city. Walls made out of logs of living mushroom trunks, with a larger foundation made out of cobblestones mortared together with dirt. She could smell the smoke, breathing it in as she did from her volcanic home in the Kingdom of the Sun. She began to flutter her wings, beating them harder and harder. Slowly those black wings lifted her up into the air as she soared over the walls and met up with her companion. “Quite the sight isn’t it? Gotta meet up with Valya, maybe she can be honest and straight-forward. One witch to another ya know.” She chuckled as their eyes landed upon the crown jewel of the Kingdom of Disease, Valana's Keep. Where every other building is mossy, moldy, covered in fungal growth, Valana's Keep was ornate, made of porcelain marble with delicate painting work and artisanal decorations. Sure there were the overgrown mushrooms protruding from the lower floors and even one spiraling up the center spire, but it felt like it belonged. The majestic blue star mushroom, every once-in-a-while one stumbling through the Necrotic Forest will find one of these cork-screw bodied behemoths, towering above the canopy, with small bioluminescent bulbs hanging by long strands of mycelium. They cultivated them, using them as lanterns, lighting up the city beneath Tailka and Duke. “Od Hayla, it is beautiful, isn’t it?” “Yeah it is, Tal, what are you doing here? And is that Duke? Oooh, I haven't seen him in so long!” A young woman said as Tailka smiled, watching from the castle a woman on a sorghum broomstick, the bristles facing forwards, and the handle going behind her, floated on over. Wearing dark green robes with a brown hood and cape, her blonde hair mostly covered though strands of it stick out from across her forehead with a dark green witch’s hat to boot. Tailka smiled in excitement, though declined a hug when Valana offered one. “Vala, I need to speak with King Syphus, Duke found the Sun here.” “Tal, he actually wants to talk to you too!” Valana said and Tailka nodded. “I’d give you a hug but given the fire goddess thing, I’m afraid I’m going to burn you if I touch you. But Duke seems so happy to see you!” Tailka chuckled boisterously as Duke landed on the shoulder of Valana, his long neck wrapping around hers as he gave a hiss. “Such a strange creature Phoenixes are! It...it...it is a shame what happened to them. An immortal species somehow extinguished.” She held back tears and tried to find something to be happy about, smiling, chuckling even, as Duke untangled his neck and leaned it against hers. “But you’re lucky to have him!” She said, as Duke almost squawked in agreement. The two flew to the balcony of Valana's castle. Landing and being met by the dull natural lighting of mushroom lanterns. “Our apologies for borrowing the Sun. We needed it momentarily.” A jagged and sharp voice pierced the air as Tailka turned around. “Syphus, you need to talk to me first, why did you take it anyways?” Syphus sighed and shook his head in negation. “You do realize how powerful the Sun is right? You can’t just take it.” She added on seeing Syphus lower his head. “Our people rarely see the light as-is. The Sun never rises here, and it feels so good on us. Our skin is welted and covered in bumps and warts. Hayla blessed you and Valana with smooth, whole skin. We, we’re just hideous abominations. And yet, I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Tailka was taken back, curling her wings as she landed on the beautiful wooden floor and slowly approached. “If it is comfort you want, the ash of a Phoenix can help. I can provide ten feathers, simply burn them in a high enough heat and they’ll catch on fire and turn to ash. It is easy to dilute into water or soap.” “Yes but the light helps the luminescent mushrooms too! The Sun being here makes the shroomlights glow so brightly!” Tailka nodded as she thought. “How long does it take and how long until they need to be ‘charged’ eh, so-to-speak?” She asked as Syphus thought. “It has been three days and the city is ablaze! I’ve never seen it so lit up! And as for how long before we need the Sun again? I’m quite unsure.” “Well we can experiment. Mychor Whale oil from the Kingdom of the Frosts, or the Kingdom of the Seas, burns brighter and for longer. I’ve almost convinced them to enjoy wormroot vines that grow beneath the Kingdoms in the Kingdom of the Caves. So many flavors you know. Anyways, Whale Oil for a large supply of shrooms is a good trade if you ask me, seeing that you grow so many mushrooms you practically make your homes out of them!” Syphus smiled eagerly. “Oh Wormroot is what we prefer, and Liverlung fungus! Tastes like liver and lung! The Black Pot fungus is quite good for tea, oooh and the green oak fungus that grows on the moldy oaks has a fruity almost melon like flavor!” Tailka smirked eagerly as she looked at Syphus. “Okay, so how about we make a deal? The Kingdom of the Mines, which their entrance isn’t far from here, can be a liaison between the Kingdom of the Frosts and you guys. You trade mushrooms, they provide Mychor Whale oil for lanterns!” Syphus pondered this, his mind running through the requirements. “It’d be a massive change in lifestyle. For the Two of us! But....but I...I think as King it is my choice and yet the choice of my people, but our people will probably accept.” Tailka smiled, and began to cool herself off, nervously reaching her hand out. “If my hand is burning hot just let go. My apologies, it's hard to control my temperature.” Tailka sighed reluctantly, nervously holding her hand. She was about to reel her hand back but Syphus reached out and shook it quite firmly, smiling. “All we ask of you is the feathers, and speak with the Ice King about our deal!” “Yeah, I’m on my way to return the Sun, and then speak with the Ice Queen.” Tailka turned to Valana as she leaned against the wooden panel wall near the balcony. “Well, ‘Auria, Goddess of Fire’ you better be good on your promise.” “Yeah, I am. Since me and Yalun became God’s we’ve been trying to fix these twelve messy Kingdoms. “You cannot fix the Kingdom of War, or the Kingdom of Sands. Hell, the Kingdom of the Dead and those damn racist elves who run the Kingdom of Merchants ain’t going to break.” “But I’m willing to try. Words speak more than violence you know.” Tailka gave in, leaning in and hugging Valana before opening her wings and taking off with Duke. “Well, time to meet my wife. How do you think ‘Friea, Goddess of Ice’ is doing huh Duke?” She chuckled, hearing the bird make a squeal almost like it was chuckling. When she departed the Necrotic Forest she was met to a golden prairie, endless fields of what as they flew towards a large tree at the center. The trunk was massive, bigger than any man, bigger than any troll, bigger than any God. The tree was like a nation, a country, with breadth and width, depth and height. The world surrounds this tree, and within it the Sun is supposed to rest peacefully. Traveling into the trunk following winding corridors, she made it to the center, the center of her realm, the center of her world. She removed the silver platter, set it on a gold inlaid marble altar and then the vial of the liquid Sun, pouring it in as light began to radiate out and from the tree, the Sun was restored to the Kingdom. Echoing behind Tailka were footsteps, and she quickly turned, drawing her aiodium maces, the metal being the same one her chest plate is made out of. “Look, I just restored the Sun, I don’t want to deal with another theft.” “Seriously Tal, you’re real uptight.” A woman said as Tailka lowered her maces and breathed a sigh of relief. “Alright Yalun, we need to talk.” “Right? About?” She said as Duke took off from Tailka’s shoulders and flew toward Yalun, hovering above her before landing on her right shoulder and snaking his head across to her left shoulder, cooing like a dove. “He-he. He likes you mea.” Tailka said as she crossed her arms. “Look I need you to talk to your father, Salun, eh, so Kingdom of the Diseased stole the Sun, I got it back thanks to Duke, talked with Syphus and he can provide a trade deal. Mychor Whale oil in exchange for their edible mushrooms. Trust me, they are good. That way you don’t have to rely on the sun for only one part of the year and not the entire year.” “Tal, that is a good idea. I don’t know though. But I’ll talk with my father.” Yalun sighed as Tailka smiled. The two held hands but steam began to radiate off of them. They let go, and chuckled. “You’re doing everything you can for the Kingdoms. Maybe Hayla is right, maybe peace will come to the Twelve Kingdoms at last.” “Peace? You really think that? How do you find peace with a Kingdom that believes in war, worships it like his life depends on it. Worst of all, he’s my father.” “You do things peacefully, and yet you’re not afraid to fight.” “My father killed me a few years ago when I tried to talk to him.” “Just put them to the side. Unite the reset of the Kingdoms. Eleven against one, and possibly the rest of the Gods. That is all it takes.” “I have to convince so many Kingdoms, and yet, I feel, I feel I can do it.” The two Gods turned to leave, with Duke in pursuit. “So, who is next?” Yalun asked with a smile as Tailka began to cackle. “Your father, then the Kingdom of the Dead.”


Chapter 1 As Eloise clutched her stuffed rabbit to her chest, the woods around her seemed to grow even larger. The little girl’s eyes widened as the solemn moonlight peeked through the leaves. This morning she never would have thought she would be in this situation. Eloise turned slowly in a circle as she tried to remember how she got here. For an odd reason, everything mushed in her brain, and no memories seemed very clear. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. A stick snapped under her foot and she closed her eyes. Slowly opening an eye as she took more steps, Eloise felt more confident as she searched the woods around her. She was eight today, and knew nothing could get in her way. Of what? She wondered. What could nothing get in her way of? The young girl sighed and looked into the smooth black eyes of her rabbit. “What do I do, Cotton?” Eloise asked her rabbit, “What is going on, w-why am I here?” She started to cry and stumbled over a log. *Gasp* A log! She must be near a river, or a body of water of some sort! Eloise looked around and scrambled towards a thinning of the trees ahead. A river ran in the clearing. She knelt and set her rabbit down as she cupped her hands. She dipped her hands in and drank, not knowing before how thirsty she was. Impulsively, Eloise stood up and started walking downriver, after picking her rabbit back up. Her legs and feet aching, she came across a lone log cabin standing near the river. Almost in a trance, the little girl slowly walked up to the front door and knocked. Eloise quickly pulled her hand back and wondered if that had been a good choice. Using her young looks to her advantage, she hugged her rabbit and stared at the door. A young woman opened it, with a broom in one hand and a baby on her opposite hip. “Mom?!” Eloise said wide eyed as a memory popped into her head. ‘“Blow out the candles, Eloise! Make a wish sweetheart.” Her mother said as Eloise sat in front of a cake with eight candles. Her mom held her hand as she closed her eyes. I wish ...’ Chapter 2 The woman looked surprised, “I’m sorry, but I think you’re thinking of someone else,” she started to close the door, “Bye.” “Um, wait, I’m sorry. I was wondering where I am and if you could please give me, uh, directions.” Eloise startled when the door shut on her face, again wondering why she came here and how. Eloise clambered off the porch and looked back at the house. It was oddly familiar, but her mind couldn’t place where. .......... ‘Eloise sat at the dining table long after her mom and little sister disappeared. ‘ How? ’ She wondered, ‘ Why? ’ She was so confused. As she sat, she heard someone come up behind her. A needle poked into her back. Eloise started to scream but slowly fell into a deep, deep sleep...’ .......... Eloise walked and walked. She couldn’t make sense of the memories that came. For a second everything would seem clear, then everything would mush together again. Her little stuffed rabbit was all she had to accompany her on this journey. ‘Journey?’ Eloise asked herself, ‘What is going on?!’ “Cotton, I really am scared. I have no idea what is going on here, I wish you could help.” Eloise had collected leaves and layed down, “Tomorrow is the day I hope I find what I’m looking for. Answers.” Chapter 3 The young girl walked more in the morning, knew where to go, but did not understand how. As Eloise walked, she felt an odd freedom. The slight breeze flowing through her hair and tickling her neck felt wonderful. .......... ‘Eloise and her mom walked through a forest, holding hands and swinging them. The wind flew through their hair and made Eloise feel as if she was flying too. Her mother squeezed her hand and smiled sadly down at her, “I love you my little bluebird, no matter what happens, I love you.” Confused, Eloise just smiled and hopped down the trail, then opened the picnic basket...’ .......... Eloise finally came across... the same exact cabin she’d seen before! She must have gone in a circle, but Eloise was sure she couldn’t have been. The little girl hopped back up those steps and knocked on the door. She closed her eyes, scared to see the woman she thought was her mother again. This time, it was a middle aged man who opened the door. “Why, Eloise!” The man gestured inside, “Come on in darling girl, have a seat. We’ve been expecting you.” Eloise gaped at him, and, as if in a trance, she stumbled into the house. The man shut the door behind her and sat in a comfy looking chair. Eloise looked around and felt odd. This place was again familiar, and she gazed in wonder at the cabin around her. Fancy furniture was placed all around the room and many things were strewn across the floor. “Where are we?” Eloise asked, amazed and scared by the odd feeling in her stomach. “Soon enough, young one. Soon enough.” The man smiled mysteriously, “Come with me.” He gestured her towards him as he headed to the door. Almost as if being pulled by a string, Eloise felt compelled to follow him. The door opened to stairs, and they led downwards. .......... ‘“Never trust strangers, my little bluebird. Always stay near me.” Her mother walked down the stairs as Eloise followed. “I won’t, Mother, I won’t.” The young girl never knew why her mom was always so suspicious and stressed. “Good, now Eloise, please help me with...”’ .......... Downstairs, Eloise gasped and screamed, “Mom!! What- Why- I’m sorry but, guy, who did you say y-,” she looked around for the man, and realized he wasn’t there. The woman she thought was her mother was tied up and had cuts all over her face. There was a gag in her mouth and tears streamed down her ashen cheeks. Eloise searched for the baby and found her in an old carriage with a gag. A baby had a gag. Eloise ran to her mom after taking the baby and the gag out of her mouth. “Mom, I mean, um, ma’am, here,” She took her mother’s gag out and helped her up. “Go, run!” The woman said quickly, “Leave me here. Take the baby and run. Go and fly, my little bluebird!” Eloise shook her head and frowned. She was so confused. “Why is this all ha-“ She got cut off by a noise behind her. Turning around slowly, clutching the baby and her rabbit to her chest, she saw the man. “No, you can’t leave now,” He said smiling in a way that made Eloise shrivel up inside, “Can you?” To be continued...


Author's note: This story is here because of an amazing person called Rayhan. He asked for a new story-which I had not given you Reeders in a long time- and I delivered. (WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? GO FOLLOW HIM BUT FIRST READ THE STORY!) What's wrong with him? You touch your head and groan. There is a steady stream of blood running down it. Then you see your sloth. After rethinking your life choices, you wrench the sloth out of your bed and start screaming at it in slow motion, because it's a sloth and it's slow. The only language it can understand is slow. After tiring yourself with hoarse and scratchy slow-screeching, you flop back in bed, procrastinating on laundry and dusting. The sloth only makes it worse. As you drift off, you hear a bang and swore that you heard slow motion swearing. You jump up with a few choice words as well, regretting ever getting the sloth. The sloth has no name. You couldn’t afford to pay some affection for a cute, meaningful name like Mr. Cuddles or Flash. No, the sloth was just a worthless gift, used up like an empty toothpaste bottle, and can be thrown away just as easily. What you would give to be an animal-expert right now. How do they take care of pets? Soon, you wake up every night bleeding. On the best days you just get a scratch. On the worst, it's a bloody gash. If you are lucky, you get a prick. When you had planned to go for a walk, of course you weren’t planning for a stupid sloth to be right there on your doorstep. Of course you picked him up. And now, you wanted to scream at Past You for being so, so naïve. And then this whole “to have a sloth, or to whatever- since-you-didn’t-listen-to-your-teacher-Mrs. Something” How ridiculous. And when you finally stopped your train of thought your house was a mess. And your plans were ruined. You were going to step outside, splash in the newly formed puddles, go to the store and get a bagel, then loop back home. Instead, you picked up a sloth and now he’s ruining your room, terrorizing your sleep, and has sent you to the hospital for loss of blood many times. “Alright, so you want to send a sloth to jail? ” “Yes sir, for attempted murder and stealing.” “What?” “I’m telling you about a sloth so you and throw him in jail. Do you have a hearing problem?” “Pardon me, but you said you were reporting a sloth. What the hell did a sloth do to you?” “ATTEMPTED MURDER ON ME!!! YOU SEE THESE GASHES? HUH? SEE THEM? HE DID THAT!! THE SLOTH DID IT!!!” After that, you had to go to therapy. You hated it and beat up many chairs before you could leave. You ran to your unclean home, picked up the sloth, and grinned evilly. “So, Mr. Sloth. Let’s have a little chat.” Flinging him into a chair, you stood over him like a cat cornering a mouse. The poor thing looked at you and tilted it’s head. “As you know, you have been causing me trouble. My house is in shreds, my face hurts, I have multiple bills, everyone thinks I’m crazy, I think I’m crazy, and I know you know I know you know all that somehow fits into YOUR FLIPPIN’ FAULT YOU BEAST!” The sloth fell off the chair, and now you have much more bills to pay. As the days drag on, you prepare yourself for the war against your demon sloth. Cute and friendly it may seem, it’s actually a horrendous beast. Buried under those adorable eyes is a burning soul sent by the devil to hack your mind and snap your body in half, blood crawling down your whole body like the demon has sliced you many times. To hell with time; I have a war to win. In the ending, you won the war but lost the battle. Even when locked in it’s cage, it still tried to hypnotize you with its eyes. Eyes.... No! Snap out of it! You can’t fall prey to it! As you stumble and try to wake up, you notice that the sloth has escaped.. Again. The best way to get him back, you found, was to wear your bleeding scream mask and charge at it full speed while chanting “BUTTER STICK BUTTER STICK BUTTER STICK” And then the sloth will freeze in place. You just grab him with leather gloves and shove him in his cage. But this time, it was different. As you geared up, you saw him quietly come towards you, looking like a child walking it’s first steps. Then it slowed and seemed to turn around, stopping and judging you with those beady little eyes. You found yourself looking at them, unable to move or turn away as you felt the devil come to you. Or maybe not, you realized. The eyes were filled with something other than an otherworldly demon from an imaginary space in our minds. Warm. The warmth you feel when someone hugs you, the warmth that you get when you drink hot cocoa. The warmth that this sloth is showing right now. But why? I have been so mean to him. Why do I deserve this warmth? Then it hits you like a fire truck in reverse driven by a baby. It doesn’t care. It’s a sloth. Sloths love everybody. You gently pick up the sloth and carry it back to it’s cage. Then you think hard about your future with it. All the scratches you will receive, all the money you got to pay and all the screaming you probably will do (of course you will scream). But if you have your future with this little menace (well, maybe a cute little menace) then you got to have a name. You abruptly sit up straight, causing your sloth to stare at you. Squinting at him, you whisper: “How about...Ray?” Dedicated to.... Drumroll please: Rayhan Hidayat! For two reasons: 1. THE SLOTH’S NAME and 2. He’s so funny to talk to! And his stories and bio: JUST THE BEST Thanks Rayhan! Have a great day everyone!


The stars are going out. My father and I are amateur astronomers. There’s a little hill behind my house, separated from it by a ten minute hike through brambles and fences and sleeping neighbors. We used to sneak out on school nights, when my mother was asleep and the world was waiting, and carefully pick our way out there, with only a flashlight and a sense of humor to guide us. It was our place, our time, and on that hill, with us under the stars and they under our lens, the whole world stood still for a moment, except for the wise old owl somewhere in the distance who cooed at us: “Hoo! Hoo!” Father taught me the names of the stars, and the stories people used to tell about them so long ago in far away places called “Greece” and “Rome.” Funny men in togas and wreaths. He told me about Cygnus, who spent days collecting the bones of his friend Phaethon which had fallen into the river Eridanus after Zeus had been forced to strike his father’s chariot out of the sky when he had lost control over it. The Gods turned him into a swan as a reward for his devotion. We would spend hours there, taking turns peeking through the telescope, first him, then me, then him again. And, for a few moments, they were all that existed: him and the stars. I learned a second meaning of “cancer” which the serious man in the white coat hadn’t told me when he gently explained that my mother was going to die. There was no talk of stars -- just daunorubicin and radiation. I asked if she would glow like the men in the comic books, and she said no, with a wetness in her eyes. We didn’t talk about sad things on the hill. That was the rule. Not even after the funeral. The hill was for him and me and the stars. “That’s Orion,” Father told me, putting a hand around my waist and pointing with the other one. “Which one?” I asked, after he helped me up to the lens. “It’s...” but, he trailed off. “What is it?” I asked. “The stars,” he said, breathlessly. “The stars are going out.” He was right. One by one, the little points of light were shutting off. Father took out his phone and dialed a number. It was late, but Rob answered anyway. “Rob? Look out your window and tell me what you see.” There was a pause, and then he answered. “Yeah, I see what you mean, they really are...” And then the line went dead. “Rob?” Father asked. “Rob?!” No response. And, that’s when I saw it -- the blackness, like a wall of ice rolling towards us. The brambles and the neighbors and the field between the fence and the hill were all being sucked up in the blackness. “What’s happening?” I asked, and Father wrapped me up tight in his arms. “It’s okay, Care-Bear,” he said, his words muffled by my hair. “It’s okay,” he said, again and again. “I don’t understand,” I said, and a tear fell from my cheek. “I’m here,” he said, kneeling down in front of me, and taking my face in his hands. “I’m not going anywhere, Caroline, no matter what, I pro...” But, he never got to finish. Suddenly, I was all alone. “Hoo! Hoo!” I heard, somewhere off in the distance.


"Pardon me," a woman says as she tries to navigate her way through a crowded sidewalk to her cab. “Pardon me,” I say mockingly, pretending to do the same. “O, why do you even go the lengths to mock these people, they can’t even hear you!” Sheldon said. “Well, some can,” I say smiling big. Sheldon rolls his eyes and we both continue down the busy city street. “I mean seriously, who talks like that; no one.” “Why do you always have an attitude,”? Sheldon responded with annoyance, “This has been an everyday thing and I’m wondering if this is going to be you for the rest of my lifetime.” “WHAT LIFETIME, WERE DEAD!” I yell. We both stopped and looked at each other. It had been a year since the car accident. My boyfriend, my best friend, her boyfriend (Sheldon) and I were T boned. The passenger side where Sheldon and I were sitting was struck hard killing us instantly. “I also don’t have to be reminded every 5 minutes of that either.” We continue to walk. “I’m sorry, you’re right. But it’s all so confusing.” Sheldon nods in agreement. “I mean nothing is like I thought it would be when I died, you know. I though you die then you get judged, then you live your life in either heaven or hell.” “What life remember?” Sheldon says slightly joking but with understanding. “But I get it.” “Thank you, I keep wondering if this is hell? Living, or whatever we’re doing.” “Being.” Sheldon said. “Right being in the living world but not in it. I guess being on the underside of the living world. Having consciousness, but technically not having a body. Like I can see you, but I don’t see a body I just see a... a... a soul.... a persona... a..” “A being.” Sheldon says. We both chuckle. “A being really describes it perfectly.” “Then why are you so confused?” Sheldon questions. “Well because we technically don’t have a body. And we know that emotions are stored in the body, so I’m trying to figure out why I have emotions and why I can feel them intensely’? Sheldon gives me a puzzled look. “I don’t know. I feel like I can feel my emotions and my emotions of my past lives even though I can’t remember me having a past life. Well besides the last life. I’m not sure if I would call it my past life or my last life.” Sheldon laughs. “See how confusing this is. I also didn’t expect to be in middle earth with no way out of here. No one to talk to but fellow ghosts, until they just randomly disappear. I thought the worst that could happen was dying. My whole life I have literally held on to the fear of dying. Just to realize that dying was the easy part. It’s dying and not having anywhere to go afterward. It’s dying and seeing anyone I want to see, but they can’t see or hear or touch me. O, why didn’t anyone warn me?” “And who was supposed to do that, Sheldon asked. “A ghost of course!” I say with feigned enthusiasm. “Look at it this way. You can go wherever you want to go. See any and every place you ever imagined. Observe. And absorb. Do you know anything about oneness. Mindfulness. I think that sort of thing could prepare you better than anyone’s expertise about death.” Sheldon said in a matter-of-fact way. “I’ve heard of oneness and mindfulness, but I’ve never practiced it before. Why do you think mindfulness is the key to escaping hell.” I said frankly. “Because that’s the only cure to loneliness that I have found. And that sounds like the problem you are having.” “It is a plethora of problems I’m having.” I say clearly frustrated “Whoa, whoa wait. Time out. WE ARE DEAD as you like to remind me every so often. Are you telling me that your problems have yet to cease?” Sheldon asked. “I am telling you that I’m still suffering.” I say. We walk in silence. I watch the cars go by and listen to the hustle and bustle of the city. Manhattan is just like I remember it. It was my favorite place to visit when I was in college. Sheldon was right. I can go anywhere I want. Do anything I want. But here I am finding a reason to sulk. Well, isn’t that what ghosts do. I smile to myself at the thought of identifying myself as a ghost. I am not a ghost I wanted to so proudly say, think, and feel. The reality of the situation is that I am a ghost. A ghost stuck in the underside of the world. Death is prison, I keep thinking. “You are going to turn into one of those hooded crypt keeper looking ghost if you don’t learn.” Sheldon utters. “Learn what?” I ask. “Acceptance.” Sheldon says. Acceptance, I think, is this man crazy? Who would accept such a horrible fate? What I am experiencing is total and complete nothingness every day. My mind is plagued with the thought of what was. The crazy most paradoxical thing is that when I was alive all I could think about was what was to be. The future. Here I am now, with no future, just another past life. We arrive at the Empire State building. I look up at its massive stature. I am ready to go up. We could just float to the top of the building but being human for a lifetime conditions you to remain within the confines of the laws of physics at times. We decide to take the elevator. One thing about being a ghost, I can choose the experiences I want to have. Not just whether we’re going to Guam or Tokyo, but whether I want to experience things as a human or a ghost. We get to the top and Sheldon and I float the roof and take a seat. “The city is beautiful.” I sighed. I close my eyes and imagine what it would have been to see this when I was alive. “You have to stop doing this” I say to myself out loud. “What”? Sheldon asked genuinely concerned. “I have to accept this life as a ghost Sheldon.” I will forever keep torturing myself. It’s been a constant struggle for a year and I can feel myself turning into the grim reaper himself.” “O so you are deciding to take my advice finally. Look I’m not perfect. Sometimes I dwell too, but the point is that this is final and we can’t change this. So, it’s better to just accept it. And practice mindfulness.” We both came together and sat in silence. I thought about my life; my now past life and I mourned. I mourned my family and my friends. I mourned my boyfriend, my job, and my future plans. One by one for hours, I mourned things, places, and people. After a while mourning began to feel like soul cleansing, and I knew that acceptance was what I needed. When I finally looked up at Sheldon, I could tell he was in a better place as well. I close my eyes and when I looked up again, Sheldon was gone. I began to feel my being floating involuntarily towards a light. It was too bright for me to look at, but I could feel the energy from the light drawing me closer. I didn’t fight. I had no more questions. I only had acceptance. Acceptance for what was, what is, what is to be.


# Happy Saturday, serialists! Welcome to Serial Saturday! \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ ***New here?*** If you’re brand new to and thinking about participating in Serial Saturday, welcome! Feel free to dip your toes in by writing for this challenge or any others we have listed on the handy dandy! We appreciate all contributions made to this thread, and all submissions are of course welcomed, whether it addresses a previous challenge or the current one. We hope you enjoy your time in the community! Take a look at our inaugural Serial Saturday post for some helpful tips. You don’t need to catch up by writing for each of the previous assignments, feel free to jump right in wherever fits for you, with whatever assignment or theme fits for you, and post it on the current thread with a link to whichever previously posted challenge you chose to start with. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ # This week it’s all about: Loose Ends William Tecumseh Sherman is famously known for this declaration. War is hell. Battles hard-won through personal sacrifice leaves scars far and wide on its . At this point in our stories some of our characters may have gotten a taste of that hell. The good news is that at this point in our stories, the fever pitch of conflict has died down. The worst is over, they say. No more buildings falling around people’s ears, no more and vengeance quests to find peace, no more running. The dust has to settle, and the crowds will clear out. Or at least that’s . The major conflict of this story may be over, but there’s still plenty to do, and things can still get worse (or better? ). *Oh and just a note for any dragon queens here: Ya burned Kings Landing and lost 2 dragons and a boyfriend along the way. Maybe slow your roll on making any drastic decisions, m’kay?* But enough of the tomfoolery. There’s one thing for sure: Lord of the Rings didn’t end when Sam and Frodo deliver their package to the fires of Mount Doom. When they reached the Shire it’d been decimated, and Saruman still had some tricks up his sleeve. The heroes of Middle Earth weren’t done yet, as it turns out. And neither are our protagonists in SerSat. It’s not all over yet. There are villages to rebuild, , will and testaments to write, , loyalties to shore up, commendations to dole out, and . **Things to think about this time around:** ? How will they treat those they had to go up against? How are their relationships going to change? Did they pick up some bragging rights and titles along the way? If your story is one of political or social dexterity, what messes have to be cleaned up in the wake of fallout? Was their morality compromised? What backlash do they face for making ? Is this a story of finding a way to work together, or is this going to look like a ? If your story is one of internal struggle, how does this arc affect how they will move on with their lives? Did , or what they needed? I’ll be the first to admit here that all of this is a lot to think about. What if your characters just... aren’t that deep? Sometimes it’s not that complicated. Sometimes after it’s all said and done, all that’s left to do is  **\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*** **With the ranks whittling down as we close in on our final chapters, a boon has been granted from the writing gods on high! I give you:** **FIFTY! FIFTY MORE WORDS PER INSTALLMENT!** **That’s right, folks. For the last chapters you now may write \*up to 800\* words for the rest of the beats. I hope that helps wrap some precious words up,** **!** **You have until \*next\* Saturday, 11/21, to submit and comment on everyone else's stories here. Make sure to check back on this thread periodically to lay some sweet, sweet crit down on those who don't have any yet!** \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* # Top picks from last week’s assignment, Victors: **Fan favorite with the most votes:** /u/Xacktar, bringing us to new heights and a whole new world of sequel material. This week the **Smoking Hot Challenge Sash** goes to an author that nailed the spirit of the assignment: /u/ColeZalias, showing that not every conflict is a battle of armies, but the victory can be just as hard won. **And two honorable mentions:** /u/Lynx_Elia, with a great juxtaposition of characters and how they see themselves and each other. And /u/Mazinjaz, for a great mixture of bringing us into the pitch of battle and then pulling us back down to earth with a dose of perspective. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ **The Rules:** * In the comments below submit a story that is between **500 - 800** words in your own original universe. * Submissions are limited to ***one*** serial submission from each author per week. * **Each author should comment on at least 2 other stories** during the course of the week. * That comment must include ***at least one*** **detail** about what the author has done well. * Authors who successfully finish a serial lasting longer than 8 installments will be featured with a modpost recognizing their completion and a flair banner on the sub. * Authors are eligible for this highlight post only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule. *Yes, we will check*. * While content rules are more lax here at /r/ShortStories, we’re going to roll with the loose guidelines of "vaguely ***family friendly***" being the rule of thumb for now. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, feel free to modmail! \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Reminders: * Make sure your post on this thread also includes links to your previous installments if you have a currently in-progress serial. Those links must be direct links to the previous installment on the preceding Serial Saturday post or to your own subreddit/profile. * Authors that complete a serial with 8 or more installments get a fancy banner and modpost to highlight their stories. * Saturdays we will be hosting a Serials Campfire on the main voice lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and share your own thoughts on serial writing! We start on Saturdays at 9AM CST. **Don’t worry about being late, just join!** There’s a *Super Serial* role on the Discord server, so make sure you grab that so you’re notified of all Serial Saturday related news! **Join the** **to chat with prompters, authors, and readers!** Previous constraint: **Victors** Have you seen the? No? Oh boy! Here's the current cycle's challenge schedule.


I fell asleep without trying to. I was exhausted, but not tired. I was in my car. My friend, the stranger, in the passenger seat. We were good friends, both headed to the beach. I’ve never been to the beach, and I wished to know her better. There was a lot of people there. Mostly people I’ve met at least once. Some people were in the water in pairs, happy. Some stayed on the beach, comfortably separated. They all looked well. I took toward the water, ready to wade in its deep blue. Determination drove me as I weaved through the crowd. Close to the water I lost my friend, the stranger. I think she was beautiful. I caught a glimpse of her; she noted me. She came to me and grabbed my hand with both of hers. Her smile calmed me amidst the anxiety of the large crowd. She walked into the water ahead of me and I tried to follow. Another pair crosses our path between us and I lose sight of her for just a second. In that moment, she disappeared. I entered the water alone, ignored by the pairs of people already there. She was here somewhere, and I couldn’t abandon my friend. I searched in boredom, and was all too patient. Minutes passed by and the others started to notice me. I could tell by how they seemed so sad when they looked at me. The minutes turned to hours, then days. As I passed people by, still looking for her, they told me to abandon my search. They can’t tell me why, and they say nothing more. The melancholy looks from the people passed in my search, the advice I never heard yet could recite, and the loss of my friend, the stranger, who wanted to show me the ocean; all this overwhelmed me. I returned to shore, feet wet from the water. The sand was warm, and the people in the water stopped frowning toward me. I relinquished my guilt to a small cabin on the beach I had spotted. A tall old wooden fence almost blocked it from view from the water. The cabin was odd, no windows or doors. Lattice all along the bottom, it was almost impossible to see under the cabin. I sit on the blind side of the fence with the cabin. There’s a fire pit with no firewood or ash. This pit could keep me company, at least until my friend, the stranger, returns. *^There’s ^something ^under ^the ^cabin.* By the fire pit there was a collection of colored pencils. Nearly all had their head buried in the sand so that they stood straight up, as if someone had wanted their heads underground. Perhaps so the pencils couldn’t see that their color was taken from them, that they all were grey-white with clear lead. Moments passed. Thoughts of my friend, the stranger, crossed my mind. *^Something ^wants ^out ^from ^under ^the ^cabin.* I grab a few of the pencils that couldn’t stay under the sand. I align them with the rest so that they all were the same. All of their heads in the sand, blissfully unaware that they aren't what they assumed. It could only ever feel right, nothing more. *^She's ^coming ^out ^from ^under ^the ^cabin.* I’ve finally noticed. Black hair. Blue-grey skin. Her eyes were black holes and her teeth dripped with tar. She wore a familiar dress. *^This ^is ^who ^took ^the ^color ^from ^these ^pencils.* She looked like she’s been here all along. Why would she wait below this strange cabin? Or choose me? *^You ^wanted ^to ^be ^here.* She’s tearing the lattice, inciting dread within me. I grab the pencils from their place by the fire pit. In panic, I throw the white-washed pencils at the stranger. *^I ^never ^wanted ^to ^be ^here, ^not ^like ^this.* She doesn’t seem to notice the pencils. *^But ^how ^could ^she? ^She ^took ^their ^color ^from ^them!* The fire pit was filled with sand in my panic. I struggled, but I couldn’t get far. I could feel her cold breath. It felt like ice water pouring onto my skin. Goosebumps never came, I was content in my fear. *^I ^hate ^this.* Maybe if I had used the pencils as kindle for a fire, I could have warmed her heart. But I destroyed the pit and threw away the pencils in my panic and fear and now my damned hands won’t stop shaking. Everything in me screamed to stay still. She said “Don’t go anywhere.” Tar-dripping smile, cold breath getting heavy. A light faintly shines in the back of her throat as she splits her jaw. Her mouth now open, unhinged and wide like a snake, spews forth a dull light that engulfs me entirely. It feels more than cold. I feel a deep feeling, not unlike the pain of loss, wrap around my mind as my consciousness fades to a singular thought before falling asleep. *^Oh, ^how ^sorry ^I ^am ^to ^have ^lost ^my ^friend, ^the ^stranger.


My grandfather has this quarter he is absolutely obsessed with. It cannot be replaced with just any old quarter. He has memorized every detail of this specific quarter - the date, the scratches, the tarnish of the metal. It’s a 1957 Philadelphia mint. It has a gash through Washington’s head that makes it distinguishable from other quarters and it has a chip on the tails side at the two o’clock position. I know this because he made me go through an entire cash register to find it. I took it from his nightstand one evening to go buy gum at the Quick Mart. The old man nearly lost his mind when he saw it missing. He was on all fours with a flashlight searching every nook and cranny, trying to retrace his steps, looking like he was about to cry. I was scared at first, scared by his behavior, scared to confess I spent it. I didn’t understand the importance of such an object. To me, it was loose change, no different than the other coins I scrounged up above the washer and under the couch cushions. I did my best to act normal, but I think I over did it and looked suspicious. Chewing the gum might have given me away as well. His eyes were like spotlights shining in my face as he questioned me about the gum. They weren’t real lights, but I was sweating nonetheless and broke, confessing. He sent me back to the store with the description of the coin and told me not to come home until I had it. Luckily, the guy behind the counter was understanding and not busy. He dumped the quarters out on the counter and helped me search. I felt like a fool going back up there to swap quarters. When I got home, I asked my grandfather what was so special about this one particular quarter. The year was 1962 when my grandfather, a seventeen-year-old Richard ‘Dick’ Gibbons, stepped onto Vietnamese soil for the first time. He was proud to serve his country the way his father and grandfather had before him, but he quickly saw the reality of war etched on the faces of young soldiers as they shuffled about the basecamp. Some of those young men were just returning from missions, their clothes and faces stained with dirt, sweat, and blood, their demeanor downtrodden. He was assigned to one such platoon. They barely had enough time to grab fresh socks and a slice of Spam before their captain explained to them their mission details. Dick felt his reserve weaken as he was faced with his first mission. He asked what it was like out there and his platoon looked at him in silence. A grizzled veteran of thirty years on his third tour, Sergeant Amos Wilkes, took Dick aside and explained to him the realities of jungle warfare as they geared up. “You never know where they’re coming from, kid. It’s their jungle. They’ll see you before you see them. The heat, the fatigue, the fear, it’s going to play with your mind. You won’t be able to tell a monkey’s screech from an enemy signal, a snake in the grass from an attacking foe. Keep your head on a swivel and your eyes and ears open at all times. What do you have for luck?” Dick shrugged, “I don’t believe in luck.” “Where we’re going, kid, a little luck doesn’t hurt. I keep the bullet that missed my heart by less than a centimeter during my first tour with me at all times. I got lucky and I take that luck with me wherever I go. Priest over there, he carries a pocket bible with him. Sanches has a Saint Jude pendant around his neck. Even the captain keeps a picture of his fiancé with him for good luck. Don’t underestimate the power of belief. Whether a person believes in something tangible or intangible, no matter how ridiculous it sounds, that belief has great power to comfort and embolden people through difficult times.” On their second day out, they were patrolling the jungle when they heard a jungle creature, something sounding like a large bird crying out. The sound made the captain halt and throw up his fist. Everyone stopped, surveying the area. Something shiny caught Dick’s eye on the ground. It was a quarter. He thought it was odd that a piece of American currency found its way around the world into an Asian jungle. He took it as a sign of good luck and bent over to pick it up as a gunshot rang out and a bullet zipped right over him and into another private’s thigh. Dick laid in the weeds staring in disbelief as the medic dragged the private to safety. A firefight broke out. With every click and bang, Dick flinched and flattened himself closer to the ground. Wilkes came running at him in a crouch through the weeds. “Get in the fight,” Wilkes commanded as he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him along. “We’ve got them on the run!” Dick ran alongside the sergeant who was following the captain in their pursuit of enemy soldiers. The jungle opened up to a village with some makeshift stick huts and acres of rice fields in the background. The captain signaled search details. Dick was sent into one of the huts. He held his breath, trying to remain steady as he entered the hut. It was dark inside, not much light getting in except through cracks in the walls which just cast an eerie glow. He was immediately attacked, surprised by a man with a knife. It was close-quarters hand-to-hand combat and Dick was outmatched. The enemy had him pinned to the ground and was shoving his knife into his chest when Wilkes ended the altercation with a pistol shot to the man’s head. Dick pushed the man off him and scurried back against the wall. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the quarter which now had a gash in George Washington’s head. He held it up for the sergeant to see and said, “I think I found my lucky piece.” That was day two of a two-year tour. My grandfather said he witnessed some atrocious things in Vietnam, things he wouldn’t even tell me about. He said when he returned stateside, those things haunted him, keeping him awake at night. He said he could still hear the distant cries of soldiers being stabbed to death in the night. He said he could still see the faces of the dying, pleading for help, crying for their mothers with their limbs and guts lying beside them. He said he could still feel the cold breath of death on his neck when he was alone at night. He returned to his old habit of flipping the quarter from knuckle to knuckle just as he did in his fox hole at night in the jungle. The screaming stopped. The faces disappeared. Death didn’t feel so imminent. So, maybe his sergeant was right, belief is a powerful thing in the minds of those who believe, especially when that belief is resolute enough to be called conviction. I wouldn’t have spent that quarter had I known its significance to my grandfather. It was humbling listening to his story. He lived through something I can’t even imagine living through and he attributes his survival to his quarter. Besides, if believing in something gets him through the night, who am I to judge.