Ghost ThirdVisage I don’t remember how I died. Part of me wants to know, just out of curiosity. Maybe, they keep that from you so that it doesn’t haunt you for the rest of time (can a ghost be haunted?), or maybe it’s to stop us from staying behind in the search of vengeance or some sort of meaning. Or maybe I just never saw it and died in my sleep. I hoped I died peacefully. I guess it doesn’t matter, I have the rest of my memories to keep me company and with that I think I’ll be content. My mother always said that memories will be that much sweeter when you grow old and I hope she’s right, of course there’s not much I can do if she isn’t. I can see her face in my mind, withered and old, but always so soft and kind. The small scar on her cheek, faded but always there. She never would tell me what it was from, always coming up with some wild story about something or other. A crazy chicken that had stolen her doll, or a small piece of star that had fallen down from the heavens just to slide across her face. I always loved those stories. I glanced down at the gravestone in the dust before me. *John Tanner, 1823 - 1854*. A name and two dates, that’s all it comes down to at the end. I didn’t even like the font they chose. At least I’ll get to see everyone one last time before I go. At least I’m assuming I’ll be going somewhere, I feel like I will, but then again, I’ve never done this before. I turn around, looking all the people left gathered around the small grave. Most left a few minutes after the service ended, but a few remain, gathered around my lifeless body. The town preacher is still there, a face of stone as he stares at my open casket. I can see his lips are moving but I can’t hear what he’s saying. I wonder what he has left to say. Maybe it’s some last-minute advice for the afterlife, it’s a nice thought. Next to him is the town teacher, a sweet lady from some city not near here. She was always nice. I remember when she first arrived, Karen and I helped her get settled, we brought her a pie and stayed for most of the night just talking about different things. Karen laughed so much that night. A few people from the mine are standing around, all with the same blank expression and dirty faces. A few hands covered in black dust drop a coin or two into the wooden coffer as it’s passed around, the sound of wood on metal the only thing to break the heavy silence that holds over everyone. None of them have said much of anything but they didn’t need to, it was enough that they came. While I look over the faces of the people I once knew, I notice a couple standing away from the rest, looking on at the preceding, a man dressed in a suit of white, and a woman next to him in dress of black. I don’t recognize the faces, though they seem familiar to me. A quiet sigh catches my attention, the only sound aside from the breeze passing through the bushes and grass, kicking up dust as it went. Karen looks as beautiful as ever, her hair golden against the black dress she’s wearing. Memories flood into my mind as I see her face, perfect even with the tears that stream run down it. I remember the first time we met, just kids then. We used to run through the woods, go swimming in the old creek. I remember us, sitting on the hill while the sun threw shadows across rolling fields of gold, the skies bursting with purples and reds, her head rested against my shoulder so I could feel the warmth of her skin. I’d never forget that day. But the skies faded out and her tears flowed again, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe them away, but my fingers just pass through her when I touch her skin. My heart sinks in my chest, but as I pull my hand back, I can see her eyes glance up. It’s like she’s looking right at me, the corners of her mouth twitching up ever so slightly into a small smile. Someone next to her says something and the smiles vanishes as they press the wooden coffer filled with various coins, into her hands. Maybe, just maybe, she knew I was there, and that thought brought some light and comfort into my ever-dimming soul. The sound of hooves breaks me away from my thoughts and as I turn around I can see a man on horseback riding through the cemetery, making his way towards the small gathered mass. I squint against the sunlight and as the little spots clear from my sight, I finally make out the face face under the dark brimmed hat. He swung his leg over his horse and dismounted, his dark suit a stark contrast against the setting sun. I remember as kids always seeing him bloody and bruised. His mother had died when he crawled out of her, and I don’t think that his father ever forgave him for that, of core the drinking didn’t help either. No one ever did anything either, just watched as a father broke his son. I watched him break a bottle across his sons face one day walking by their house on the way home. The blood and left-over whiskey mixed with the dry dirt on the ground and created an awful smell that I couldn’t forget. But cruelty breeds cruelty and like that broken bottle he became just as jagged and sharp as his father. Becoming the tax collector for the area seemed like the perfect job for him, it allowed to be a cruel and unforgiving as he wanted, all in the name of the law. A small part of me took pleasure in seeing the jagged scar across his face and the corners of my lips curl into a smile for a moment. I shook my head and cleared my mind of the thought though; it didn’t seem right. He walked right through me, right to Karen taking the coffer in her hands. I could see the looks on the faces of the people watching, some disgusted, some indifferent, most wishing that someone would do something. Do anything. But nobody does. He walks over to his horse, and finally someone’s voice lets loose a whisper, barely audible above the summer breeze. But it’s enough to stop him. He turns, and I can see a grin split across his cracked face, despite the smile he puts one, there is nothing but rage, pain, and blackness behind his eyes. The priest tries to stop him, but he’s as helpless as I am. He stalks past the old man with ease and takes the silver coins resting over my eyes. My mind fills with rage, my phantom body trembling with anger. The breeze blows harder, the dust spins and ice stings the blades of grass at my feet. I start to think of what it would feel like to make him suffer... Lilies. The scent slips into my consciousness, and burrows into my thoughts, a small candle light expelling the shadows. Karen walks through me, her black dress blowing in the wind and a few strands of hair slip from under her bonnet. I breathe in the scent again. The frost begins to melt away, and the wind settles. The tax collector mounts his horse and rides away from the cemetery, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Karen stares off after him and I can’t take my eyes off of her. I try to reach out to her, but my limbs are frozen in place. I look down and watch the ground below me split and crack. I look around but nobody else seems to notice what’s happening and as I look down again, I fall down into the darkness. I don’t know how long I’m falling for, moments or days, it could be either, but the blackness is absolute, oppressing and cold. I close my eyes to try and escape it, to cope with the wind pushing against me as I fall down, further and further. Then it’s gone. The wind, the cold, is gone in an instant, replaced only by the sound of gentle waves lapping against a shore. A slight breeze brushes against my face, I can feel sand against my feet and as I open my eyes they adjust to the dim grey light. A black sand beach stretches out in both directions as far as I can see, grey waters gently pushing against the shoreline. I start walking along the beach, the and warm under my feet until finally, in the distance, I see what looks like a dock. The old and stained grey wood rising out from the heavy waters feel smooth and strong under my feet. At the end of the dock, a boat of black wood rests just above the waters. I start making my way towards it when suddenly, in front of me, black robes grow from a shadow in the wood, twisting and rising into a figure in front of me. Black mist pours from beneath it, and as I try to look to see who or what it is, I am met with nothing but void in the darkness of its hood. Faces appear and disappear in the shadowed fabric of its robe, each one screaming in silence and agony seemingly trying to escape. The figure stands there for a moment while my heart best like a drum in my chest. After a few long moments his hand reaches out, a skeletal hand stretching out white as snow from the folds of the robe. It hangs there in the air, outstretched and open, waiting for its payment. My hands go to my eyes but find nothing there, terror clenching my heart as I search for my fee for the ferryman. But there is nothing to find. The hand disappears and black robes evaporate into mist that dissipates. A thunderous crack splits through the area and the boat shatters, sinking into the water. A gust of wind slams into my chest, lifting me upwards and the world starts to fall away beneath me. The beach disappears beneath me fading away into the darkness and soon I’m left there alone, suspended in the vast nothingness. I twist and turn my body, trying to see anything around me but there’s nothing and the only thought in my mind is that this can’t be it. There has to be something. Anything. Fear starts to grip my insides at the thought of spending eternity in a blank void when I see something appear in front of me out of the dark. A thin wisp of grey smoke snakes its way around me growing larger and larger and it moves. The mist swirls around me in the dark and as I watch they start to morph and form together, creating moving pictures and scenes. I can see my mother and father, laughing and sitting on the old swing that my father made for them while I play with the dog in the yard. They look at each other and kiss while I’m rolling around in the dirt. The mists swirl and change and I’m watching me and my best friend running through a corn field, apples stuffed in our pockets as an old farmer yells threats at us. The stalks scratch at our faces as we laugh and run through the fields. More smoke appears, and more and more scenes are brought to life all around me. A younger me hides from a rain storm under a small rock outcrop right next to a slightly older me swinging a pick axe in the mine. I see myself walking down the main street of town, everyone around going about their business. A couple of people point at me and whisper something, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. My heart jumps to my throat as the mist swirls and I see Karen and I in bed together holding each other, she laughs as I reach to stroke her hair, but no sound escapes her lips. The visions breaks apart as I ride through on a horse down a barren road. Every moment of my life swirls around me, and tears that have building for some time finally escape and stream down my cheek. But as quickly as it began, the smoke stops and fades away returning me to the solitude of darkness, the silence my only company. But it only lasts for a moment. The mist bleeds back into existence around me, shifting and folding into the shape of a room, my bedroom I realize after a moment. I’m standing in the corner of the room and I can see my own sleeping body, peaceful and at ease in the bed. A creak across the room breaks the silence and I turn my gaze to see Karen walk into the room. I never did get to fix the creaky door; it always drove Karen crazy. She walks across the room, slowly and gracefully, through the shadows of the moonlight until she’s standing right next to my sleeping figure. She stares down at me for a few moments and I take the moment to soak in her beauty. I move closer and as I do, she sits on the bed next to me. I go to take another step but before I can, Karen raises her arm, and brings the knife in her hand down onto my sleeping body. I open my mouth to scream but my voice clings to the sides of my throat and no sound comes. Dark blood seeps from the edges of the bed, dripping onto the wooden floorboards. Karen stands and looks down at the blood covering her hands and shirt for a few moments. My head is pounding and my heart hammers in my chest as she turns and walks out of the room, blood dripping from the knife hanging loosely in her hands. The drops of blood splatter against the wooden boards and the scene fades back into the inky blackness. The moments drag on, my death, my murder replays in my mind. The room, the moonlight. The blood seeping into the floor. Karen standing over my lifeless body. I hung there in space for who knows how long, watching my life ripped away from me. The drumming in my chest slowed and the ache in my head gave way and something else took its place. Something cold and dark. My body lurches upward and shakes me from my thoughts. I feel my body moving upwards faster and faster and I look and am greeted with something new. Shimmering white lines stretch out in a web above me, getting closer and larger until I’m crashing into a wall of blinding light. My eyes shoot open, the sun sits high above me, clouds drifting lazily overhead. I stand and look at the lake shore around me. Water drips from my body as I walk to the waters edge. I look into the water and am greeted once again with the vision of my death, the knife stabbing into me, and... Karen. Dark tendrils creep into the edge of my vision, and I feel cold and hard, like my insides have frozen with ice. The wind swirls the water in front of me and ice covers the grass. I turn around finding a path leading away from the lake, and next to it, sitting at a table, the same couple from the cemetery. The man in white stares at the cards on the table and the ones in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. Across from him sits the woman in black, dark hair framing her beautiful face, staring right at me. She winks, and gives a smile that holds no warmth, her lips covered in dark red lipstick. The ice in my heart spreads and the air around me grows colder. I watch the water dripping from me hit the dirt and shatter. I look back up and see that the strange couple, the table, the cards, are all gone. Vanished in an instant. I start down the path, the sunlight cold on my back. They don’t matter. Nothing else matters now. I don’t know how long it took me to get here, or even what roads I took, but I can see the house in front of me down the road, silhouetted against the stars. The sky is dark, the loveless moon casting long shadows in the pale grey light. Water drips from my body, freezing the ground that it falls upon. A small fire sparks the cold recesses of my heart, begging for me to stop, for something, anything to turn me away. But nothing answers, inside, or out and the flame sputters and dies among the nothingness. I pass the place the dog has long since been buried, and the swing that now only sways with the breeze. A lantern illuminates the door and the porch in a soft golden light, the only sign of life in the otherwise still night. My hands rests on the door latch and the small fire sparks back to life, hoping, praying that it will be locked, that I will be turned away. The latch opens easily, quietly, without resistance and the fame sputters out once again. I step towards the door but I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn and am face to face with the man in white. His face is lined and old but kind and warm, stubble spreads across his face around his withered smile. Behind him, the woman in black sits on the porch railing leaning against the post, she blows a kiss and flashes a smile again as I look over at her, a smile with no warmth. The man in white pulls me toward him, gently but firmly and lays his hand on my forehead and in a flash of blinding light, the world shifts. The light fades and is replaced by rolling hills, a gentle summer breeze, and warm sunlight flowing over my skin. The fields of wheat and grass on the hill shimmer golden and the sky erupts around a setting sun in thousands of colors, and finally recognition sets in on a memory I said I’d never forget. The smell of lilies fills my nose and I turn to see her sitting there pressed up against me, her skin warm and golden hair blowing gently in the breeze. She looks up to me as I stare and smiles, and as much as I try to hold on to the anger, it cracks and splinters. Tears roll down my cheeks again as I pull Karen closer, kissing her forehead. My heart jumps into my throat and starts to melt away the agony in my mind. I close my eyes and when I open them again, I’m back on the porch. The man in white smiles and fades away. I watch him disappear and turn to the woman in black still leaning against the post. She looks me up and down and closes the distance between us, no longer smiling. Her hand thrusts out, feeling my heart beating against my chest. She looks up at me, cocks her head slightly to the side staring into my eyes before she vanishes in a plume of smoke. I look back at the house and smile gently, making my way into the place I knew so well for so long. I need to see her face just one more time, to remember every detail, then not even an eternity of darkness seemed so bad. I get to the bedroom door and push it open, the floorboard creaking as I step into the dark room, smiling from the familiar sound. Moonlight dances around the room, casting shadows along the walls and floors. I look to the bed, at the one thing, the one person that would keep me warm in the cold, and the flame in my heart began to dim. \ The sound the creaking floor board brought Karen out of her slumber. She rolled her eyes, John had always promised to fix it but of course he never had. She couldn’t wait to get out of this house. With much more money now, she had found a much nicer and larger home for them to live in, far from here. Sure, the journey to get there had been long and, difficult, but she was happy she was finally at the end of it. The floor creaked again, and she sighed, who knows why he was getting up now. The room felt colder than she remembered, and she turned over to gather some of the warm blankets before he got back, only to be met with him laying next to her sound asleep. The floor creaked again, and her eyes grew wide as she sat up suddenly staring at the doorway masked in the shadows of the night. Her breathes, know shallow and ragged, became visible as the room grew colder and colder, the hairs on her arms standing on end. She turned and began shoving the sleeping body next to her, trying to wake it, but was given only a low grunt in return. She turned and grabbed the matches next to the oil lamp on the bed post, fumbling to get one out. Finally, after the moments passed, she managed to light the lamp, sending warm light spilling across the room that was now covered in frost. She heard a quick start and the body next to her wake. As he turned to her his scar covered face looked skeletal and sunken in the light of the lamp. She turned again to the doorway and felt her heart threaten to leap from her chest as she let out a choked cry when she saw the dark, dripping figure. Her mind begged her to say something, anything, but her voice clawed at the inside of her throat, refusing to surface, refusing to help her. The room grew still and silent as seconds dragged on for eternity until for the last time, the fire went out. \   This is my first time sharing any of my work so I hope everyone enjoys. It is inspired by the song "Ghost" by Clutch in case anyone wonders or recognizes any similarities. I just thought it would be cool to write out the story of the song.


The Alignment happened once every three thousand years, the exact length of time civilization had been blooming on Hinadora. One sun and two moons. Never had the world seen all align as one. The planet Hinadora often praised their sky. Moon Sy gave them moments of green when eclipsing Sun. Her blue and crystalline existence casting ripples and beams that sprung new life from the dirt. Blood moon Tertia looked to bite into Sun when she crossed, leaving Hinadora in dark quiet. There was the rare moment Sy and Tertia overlapped opposite Sun, the planet Hinadora hiding the reunion that sent ghostly rays of lilac to reflect off the land. What would happen, the people wondered, when Sun, Tertia, Sy, and Hinadora, all aligned as one? Rashel scurried between water and city, a drapery of leaves swishing over her shoulder and down her back. Her wooden slip on shoes clattered over the stone slabs that were pressed deep within teal spikes of grass. “And where are you rushing off to?” Gladstone called from the neighboring canal as he pushed his boat through. His ore he shoved into the muddy benches, altering his progress to follow her upstream. “The meeting house,” she said, breathless. “Meeting about what?” “Stop making me talk.” “Well it would be easier if you got in.” The tapping of her shoes slowed and sounds of birds and whirring of the city were able to regain dominance. Rashel glared and caught her breath. “If this gets wet, I will drown you,” she jostled the woven leaves like a threat. “I promise you will arrive dry as bone.” “So morbid,” she muttered, teetering and testing her footing. The soft earth gave in and the rusty mud began to seep upward. “I can’t. I’ll just have to run,” she shook her head and resumed her staccato jog. “Whoa, wait a second,” he shoved hard, causing muddy clouds to swirl in the clear aqua water where grass continued like a blanket. His long boat settled next to a spear of wood still embellished with knotted ropes and frayed edges. Gladstone threw his rope over, pulled tight, and tied himself off before striding out of the rocking vessel. “I’ll carry you.” Rashel sighed, and it felt good to expel the pent up energy. She eyed the taller man moving for her, his dark brows tilted in humor, matching the full mouth. Settling into her stance, she jut a hip and shook her head. “And how would I get out? Oh!” Her gasp bounced off the water as he leaned down, and wrapped his arm around her legs. “Oh my goodness...” she pressed her palms to his back as he stood upright and turned with her over his shoulder. “Leave everything to me,” he pressed, taking greater care with his footing on return to the boat. She closed her eyes and prayed to Tertia that the leaves pressed between them would survive the trip. When her sense of gravity shifted to something familiar and her balance rocked to the demands of water, she opened one eye. Gladstone was wrestling with his rope, tossing it back to the boat before pulling up his ore and resuming his push upstream. Rashel opened both eyes and relaxed, pruning and plucking the leaf blanket to bring it back to life. “Your gift to the celestials?” Gladstone asked, nodding his broad chin to her leaves. “A paltry gift,” she huffed, shifting in her seat, “It’s decoration. Somehow this got left behind.” “One curtain of leaves? Can’t imagine it makes that much of a difference.” “It does,” she brushed her cherry red hair over her shoulder and straightened. “Green leaves to represent Sy and Sun?” He asked, turning forward. “Of course. We have water for Sy and flowers for Sun and...” “Blood? For Tertia?” “Tertia demands blood,” she arched a brow and shrugged. “But no. Wine.” “You’re dressed for Tertia today,” he noted the red silks that rippled across her bronze skin, settling on the new color of her hair. His voice became pensive, “Almost didn’t recognize you.” “I’ve always followed Tertia.” “I know. But now you look it.” “And who are you following these days?” “Same as always. Flowing and steady,” he glanced skyward. Rashel followed, cupping a hand to her brow. Sun was stationary and strong, but a dark red Tertia was beginning to carve into the light. Sy approached slower from the opposite side, beams already refracting through its ocean-like existence. “Thank you,” she dropped her sights to the meeting house of marble engulfed by canal, “I’m cutting it close. Were you heading home just now?” Her head tilted suddenly. “Yes,” his smile flickered out and he refused to turn to meet her. “You were going to miss the eclipse? It’s never been celebrated once! The chances we are the ones fortunate enough...” she paused at his shrug, “Oh, don’t tell me you are one of those...” “Isn’t it interesting? The timing? The world as we know it, born almost precisely...” “Gladstone,” her tone made him hunch. “What disaster would strike us? Tertia blocks Sun. Sy will have no light to cast. What do you think will happen?” “I don’t know.” “Surely you have a thought...” “No. No thoughts,” his head lifted and he flashed a brilliant smile to her, “Now that I know you’re putting this on, I suppose I’ll stay.” “Easily persuaded,” she pursed her lips and pressed her hands to her hips. “What are you doing after?” “Cleaning up.” “I’ll help.” “You don’t have to.” “I want to.” “Do you really want to?” She propped her chin on her palm and watched him dock the boat. His muscles flexed beneath the rolled cuffs at his forearms. Before he could catch her stare, she returned to his face. “Anything for you,” his words were as soft as his smile. He extended a hand to hold hers as she balanced her way to the edge of the circular meeting house. “It starts in two twists,” she brushed the wrinkles out of her dress as he twisted the watch on his wrist twice. “I’ll be there.” The pillars of the meeting house dwarfed her as she ran through them, weaving into the deeper circles that began to morph with spades of emerald, petals of golden yellows, and sheets of flowing water and wine that always connected to the streams within. She passed the blanket of leaves off to waiting hands, already stationed at the ladder to unfold the long form from roof to floor. Another satisfied exhale. Rashel was standing in the center of the meeting house, head tilted back to the central opening that peered up to Sun. She smelled the ocean and salt and fresh air before she felt Gladstone’s hand warm her side. Her heart thudded and she leaned against him feeling the rush of blood hitting her cheeks. They watched as Tertia ate up half of Sun and Sy was just beginning to meet from across the way. The water moon began to ripple as it kissed the blood moon. It shuddered in current, the circular shape warping and bulging. Rashel held her breath, Gladstone went stiff, gasps echoed through the crowd around them. Slowly Sy wrapped around Tertia, engulfing the solid red moon into warping water. Never before had the moons touched, but on this journey, their paths converged. The world became dark save for the bright ring of filtered light still rippling. Hinadora watched in collective awe. The moons hung, and instead of moving beyond, Sy clung to Tertia, traveling with her as she passed by Sun. Tertia boiled. Or was it a trick of light and liquid? The moon seemed to shift and bulge and the layer of water moved with it. Inside, Tertia was more vibrant than her usual existence, but Sun at her back made her dark, like a face in silhouette with an unreadable expression. Brilliant streams of color erupted as Sy steamed. A low rumbling hissed long enough, loud enough, that Hinadora began to feel it through the air. The water moon thinned like Tertia was drinking it dry, and soon, one moon was left. Bloody and dark and still boiling with shards of rainbow glinting off its outer shell. That’s what it must have been. A shell. A shell that cracked and boomed and made the sky shudder. Eruptions of orange fell away and the silhouette of something large unwrapped itself from the spears of Tertia that were burning down to Hinadora. Crystal wings opened and thin legs reached around the falling edge of shell. It expanded. Stretched. Huge black eyes of infinite fractures focused on the planet. Its heavily shelled body pulsed, the rainbow of wings beat and the creature leapt down to kiss the sky of Hinadora. It was screaming that came next. Screaming from fear of the unknown creature, screams for the debris beginning to plummet, screams when the tube-like tongue unrolled and began to drink from the ocean. Rashel gripped Gladstone’s hand, and the two could only stare in silence as screens around them flashed images of the thing beginning to overtake the world. “Blood and water,” the sage voice croaked, patting the hand of the younger girl peering out of the tunnel. “I saw it then, you know.” “Saw Terrya being born?” The girl turned back and propped her chin on the worn shoulder that felt like sticks inside a sack. Her large eyes blinked up to her. “Yes. Such a big thing. We’re just small little pebbles to her. When she wants blood, she takes blood. When she wants water, she takes water.” “But she can take too much. I heard Stony say so.” “She has. But have you noticed? She’s been leaving to the stars. Building something with mud.” “A moon.” “Yes. And what do you think she will do with the moon?” “Put something in it. But what about the water moon? You said there were two.” “We will have to see how it happens, but I bet there will be one. A carefully crafted route for both, and in three thousand years, we will begin again.” “But this time we know and we will tell everyone and be ready!” “Do you think in three thousand years we will care? No,” Rashel shook her weary head, “We will have forgotten. We will be absorbed in our lives. Distracted. That’s why she waits for so long. Waits until we are complacent and she can leap down and snatch up what she wants. Like so many things,” her voice trailed off. “What things?” “Keep your eyes open, my little star. Always question why things are in the sky, and when they try to appease you with their beauty, to give you small moments of shimmering gifts, know that behind everything, there is a monster waiting for the right time to take.”


The first time I saw Stephen, he painted a hex sign on my right arm, and I couldn’t move my fingers for three hours. When I found him again the next day, I asked how he had done it. He just gave me a lopsided smile, the kind when someone knows something you don’t, and I decided right then that I was going to become his friend no matter what. I wanted to be in on his secrets. I agreed to let him practice his symbols on me, simply to have an opportunity to observe him work. Sometimes it was fun, like the time he turned my hair purple. Other times it wasn’t, like when my nose swelled up so big that I couldn’t see around it. He had to lead me out of the woods where we practiced, and I tripped four times. The swelling went away by the time I had to go in for dinner, but the scraped knees and scratched arms didn’t. But every time I would rethink my agreement to be Stephen’s guinea pig, he would offer to teach me a new hex. He knew he had me that way. I was a curious girl and desperate to learn such a rare skill. What he didn’t realize was that I was also a lonely girl and desperate for a friend. So our hex experiments continued throughout the spring and into the start of summer. Until Brittany moved in down the street. She showed interest in Stephen, and he showed interest in her blonde hair and curves. That’s when he decided he couldn’t be seen with me, and he definitely couldn’t be seen doing hexes. He needed to be normal. I wasn’t done with him though. I had so much more to learn. I’d had a taste of the hexes and I couldn’t just give up on them. I wasn’t ready to go back to my old life, my old helpless lonely self. I knew it would be easy to win him back. He would feel the pull of the hexes’ power eventually, especially if I helped him along. At first, I painted the symbols on myself. I made my hair blonde and swelled up some of the features I wanted to enhance. I wanted to show him that anyone could make themselves beautiful, but not everyone could share in his secret. I could tell it caught his attention at first, but then Brittany and her friends mocked me. And I got tired of having to repaint the symbols every time I went to the bathroom. I was trying to think of ways I could use the hexes to win Stephen back, when Brittany fell asleep in class. I carefully drew a hex sign on her right shoulder blade. When the bell rang, she found that most of her arm had gone numb and she couldn’t carry her bag. Stephen offered to help her and cast a glare over his shoulder at me. That was the first time I became angry with him. Before that I just saw him as lost, entranced by a fading beauty, soon to see the error of his ways. I knew he would eventually long for the hexes, and me. But that cruel look he gave me sent rage bubbling up from my stomach to my throat. How dare he act that way towards me for doing something he had done a hundred times? He is the one that started this, but now he judged me? That night I stood underneath the old oak tree in my back yard and looked up. The branches arched over me and the moss hung around me like a protective shroud. Although I knew they were there, I couldn’t see the stars. I lowered my gaze and with the snap of branches and the crunch of leaves my feet moved on, the sounds reassuring me that they would alert me of any intruders on my night stroll. I followed the worn path through the woods we practiced in, needing no light for guidance. Soon I saw Stephens front door. It didn’t take long to paint the hex sign there. When I was done, I returned home to wait for morning. I left early for school the next day and stopped just inside the woods across from Stephen’s house. I heard the creak of hinges first. Next came his foot, stepping across the door frame before giving out beneath him. His head came across next as he fell, his neck oddly stiff. He reached his arms out to brace the fall, but as they crossed the threshold they froze only halfway up. When he landed, his outstretched arms gave an audible snap and his head cracked the pavement. When Stephen’s eyes found mine from down on the ground, I felt like he was looking at someone else. Without the help of his facial expressions I couldn’t read his mood, but I didn’t think I saw anger there, just pain. The sight of his blood snapped me from my efforts at interpretation. I ran toward him as the realization of what I had done landed on me like a boulder. I flung myself on the ground next to him and cradled his head on my lap. He was fine; he had to be fine. I knew he would fall and become paralyzed, but I didn’t realize how hard the fall would be. I just wanted to get his attention and have him all to myself until the hex wore off. I didn’t want this. What if he never forgave me, never came back to the hexes? The thought had never crossed my mind before. If I couldn’t resist them, how could he? I didn’t know what I would do without him. I wouldn’t be able to learn any new signs. I would be alone. For a moment it occurred to me to swear never to use the hexes again, if only he would be ok. I could send that out to the universe and seal it with a promise sign. But I couldn’t swear off the hexes, not even for the boy who gave them to me. So I just sat there with him bleeding in my arms, waiting for someone to come. Not knowing if anyone could save him. ...


I feel like I am a pretty good witch. And I don’t mean that in the moral sense or anything. I am confident there are folks who would call me pure evil and others who would say I am sent from heaven. Perspectives being what they are and such. And I don’t mean that in a superlative way either. I am not one of those conceited sorcerers who gives myself an arbitrary descriptor and I am not in the public eye enough to have earned one.... yet. I simply mean that I am a fairly capable witch. Sufficiently skillful. Absolutely adept. Practically perfect, even. Or at least, I thought I was until this most recent premonition. It makes absolutely no sense to me, which is not to say that it makes no sense at all, perspectives again. And that is where you come in. You see, a lot of folks have always thought that familiars were just a witch’s way of not being human for a bit. But unfortunately for you, and honestly also for me, that isn’t the case. I can’t just turn into an animal. I have to have an animal to turn into. Oh, don’t do that cute chirping meow at me. I know you can understand me. Which is honestly one of the reasons why I picked you in the first place. I am not taking over your body so much as merging your consciousness with my own. You won’t get to be in charge anymore but you will get to experience life as a human a bit, from the backseat of my brain, at least. And for the first few transformations, I will be relying on you to essentially teach me how to be a cat. *Because a cat’s the only cat....* Sorry, where was I? Yes, the transformation. *TransFURmation.* There is a reason most of us pick your kind. I knew of a wizard who once picked a dog as his familiar. Not a wolf or a respectable working breed, but a little toy mutt he had found. He grew to love the teeny guy and thought he shared a certain connection with him. Didn’t end well. Turns out, most mutts’ inner monologue is just incessant barking. Poor wizard went mad within days. Bats are a popular one too. But that is simply because they communicate at high frequencies even in their own head, or so the theories go. They are an essentially silent partner in the whole gig. Except those giant bats like the flying foxes - very chatty guys. However, those also make a decent choice because they have adorable Aussie accidents and generally don’t give a flying fox about anything, or so I’ve been told. But felines have always been a standard favorite. “Why,” you might ask? Well, it’s simple, albeit odd. You are Death’s favorite animal for whatever reason. I don’t know if its your attitudes, your cute faces, or what, but he just really loves you guys. So much so, that he enjoys saying hi often enough to give you nine lives. I am fairly certain you haven’t used any up and this will only cost you one. And in costing you that one life, Death will come to explain it all to you. And when he does, and this is very important, you must ask him a simple question. You see, I am completely at a loss as to what this premonition means, but the visions are coming more and more frequently and end with the complete destruction of our world. You can see how that is a big deal, given that I rather enjoy living and I enjoy living on this particular planet. There is a rumor that Yermik the Beautiful (and before you ask, yes she did give that name to herself and yes, she was hideously ugly) wrote an exhaustive list of premonitions aspects and their respective meanings. I need you to ask Death where Yermik’s Tome is currently. Since he is taking one of your lives, I won’t be there to speak to him directly, so I will be relying on you. Keep in mind that you have nine lives, less if you decide to piss off Death, and mine are not tied to yours. So, while I hate to start our relationship off on threats, it is imperative that you understand I can break this link and redo it. Each time costing you a life, each time requiring you to ask the question. I would much rather our relationship be built on trust, and the fact that I am more than willing to eat tuna for a week if you do me this small kindness.


(I have no experience/training whatsoever in creative or fictional writing and this is my first attempt doing anything like this, so any respectful or helpful input is appreciated. This is a work in progress, and to set the scene these two scientists/explorers are entering a previously undiscovered room on a space station that was built by a long dead race of beings) Though it was represented using symbols not seen in any human civilization derived from Earth, the form and structure of the equation was unmistakable. It was Schrodinger’s equation, that same differential equation that is intimately familiar to any physics undergraduate. While simple and elegant in form, it becomes impossibly complex when applied to anything more elaborate than a hydrogen atom. Despite this, given a proper mathematical description of the system, it has the power to describe the current and future evolution of any physical system, limited by the probabilistic nature of the quantum realm. He edged closer to the plinth and began to inspect the equations, running his fingers over the symbols and muttering to himself as he proceeded across the panel. As he went, the symbols and numbers began to suggest a hint of familiarity to him. He strained to recall how, but the answer eluded him. Like a splinter in his brain that cannot be extracted, he could feel the answer on the periphery of his conscious, but it remained just out of reach. He knew that if he could only remember, the jumbled mess of symbols and seemingly disparate equations would coalesce into a neat mathematical formulation and relinquish their secrets to him. After what seemed like hours of puzzlement, though in reality only minutes had passed, it suddenly came to him - the many world’s theory. The imaginative, if dubious idea, first introduced in the 20th century by a physicist whose name he couldn’t recall, postulated the existence of a universal formula to describe the totality of existence, and that every possible quantum outcome of every decision or probabilistic event is manifested in separate, parallel universes. Though long believed to inhabit the realm of fiction rather than science, here it was laid before him, in all its beauty and elegance. As his gaze led him to the bottom of the panel where one, final equation was displayed prominently, he took a moment to consider its meaning in the context of the rest of the panel. As he began to piece all the elements of the display before him together, he could feel a tingle of exhilaration welling inside him. Unless he was mistaken, this was it. The universal wavefunction. The one equation to describe everything that is or ever will be. What use the ancient inhabitants of this station had for this theoretical curiosity, he was unsure. From information salvaged and translated from devices found here, many in the consortium believed the station’s purpose was to investigate the possibility of time travel, and certain clues suggested they had been successful to some degree in achieving that goal. Given the level of technology displayed here, he didn’t doubt it. The connection was too tantalizing for him not to consider. Harnessing the power of the universal wavefunction and the complete knowledge of the evolution of the universe, could it be possible to return to the moment at which one universe split into many? As the full weight of this realization dawned on him, he let out a sharp gasp. The pounding of his heart was deafening. His breath coalesced in thick clouds of vapor suspended in the cool air, illuminated by the soft blue hue of the elegant equations laid before him. The glittering clouds seemed to freeze in time as his mind began reeling with the implications of this potential discovery. How many times had the historical or evolutionary trajectory of the human race been altered? Or, for that matter, that of the solar system, or even the universe itself? How many winding paths through the infinite space of alternate realities had been traversed? The entirety of natural and human history was but one thread in an endless web of possible universes. In the face of such hyperastronomical realities, he was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of existential insignificance. Futility. He had been lost so deeply in his rumination that when his partner finally broke the silence, he was startled by the sound, as if it had been decades since he had heard a human voice. “What is that?” Alyona whispered, gesturing to the grand equation at the bottom of the panel. Given her almost reverent disposition, he assumed she had reached the same conclusion he had regarding the equation and was in similar awe of its potential. He leaned forward and inspected the symbols. After scanning the lines momentarily, he noticed what had attracted her attention. A particular symbol, buried within the mess of variables and constants that were recognizable to him, appeared several times. What’s more, it was a symbol that was previously unknown to him or any member of the research consortium. So far in the exploration of the facility, no trace of this particular symbol had been identified on any panel, door, or in any file. A novel symbol, to be added to the growing body of knowledge on this long dead, inconceivably advanced civilization. Yesterday, this discovery alone would have been reason enough for celebration and hours of unrestrained and giddy conjecture before more stringent semiotic analysis could be carried out by other members of the consortium. Now, in the context of the equation itself and what it represents, it seems but a minor curiosity. Still, the symbol’s prominence in the equation implied its obvious importance. In what capacity, he was unsure, but it was a question that was certain to occupy his every waking moment until an answer was revealed.


I was her first, and she was my last. I know that’s overly cliched, but it was the absolute truth for both of us. I don’t recall, exactly, the very first time that I saw her. She was working at a local market as a cashier. The owner seemed to regularly rotate through pretty girls from the local school. I had frequented there for close to a decade and a half, although I never asked how he managed to find them, but they were generally a feast for the eyes. She was a little shorter than I was, probably around 5’9” or so, and had crystal blonde hair that stopped just below her shoulders. Add in green eyes that one could get lost in, a lithe body and a certain ... perkiness, if you know what I mean ... and she was utterly gorgeous. I do remember the very first time that went beyond simple pleasantries while she was ringing up my order. There were two people ahead of me on line and she was the only cashier working just then. She had on a loose T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants tights. Those tights made me finally truly understood what the phrase “like they were painted on” meant. While they covered her from the waist down, they were utterly revealing. As the line slowly progressed, I could not take my eyes off of her. She was smiling and full of energy. When it was my turn, I quickly looked around and noticed that there was no one else in line and no one else nearby. Taking a breath to put a little courage into me, I leaned forward a little and said, “I know this might be overly forward of me, but you might want to consider wearing something that’s at least a *little* less revealing?” I paused to smile. “Not that I don’t appreciate the scenery, of course.” She smiled and laughed, and it was a quiet laugh with such a clear sound that I was sure there were angels getting jealous that theirs didn’t sound so beautiful. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the view. You’re the first one this whole day who’s commented, never mind everyone else seems to need to force themselves to not even look.” Her smile just then utterly melted me. Without even thinking, I introduced myself -- even though I’d been here multiple times, I didn’t think she knew my name. And then, not even realizing what I was doing, I asked if I could invite her out for a cup of coffee some time ... or lunch ... or dinner ... or breakfast in bed. I think the last one was what broke through to her. She laughed again and told me that we would have to wait on breakfast, but she would love to join me for a coffee. She told me her name and that she would be finished today at 5:00. If I was serious about that coffee, I should be waiting in the parking lot for her. With that, she turned away to do something else. \# # # I was back and waiting in the parking lot at least ten minutes early. Something told me that this was one of the most important appointments of my life. Little did I realize. She walked out of the door exactly on time, waving to someone inside, a light blue windbreaker over one shoulder. A twist of her head flung her hair around and I was, once again, utterly entranced. I waved and she headed towards me. Once she was seated, I suggested a local coffee shop -- not one of the “name brands”, where we could sit comfortably and talk. A small smile indicated she was fine with that, and a few minutes later, we walked in the door. If I were tortured for the information, I could not recount what we talked about. All I do remember is that we actually *talked*, about ourselves, about what we wanted in life, and about all sorts of other real subjects. The more we talked, it seemed utterly natural that we would start holding hands. It happened almost without thinking -- for both of us. The time passed all too quickly until we were told by the manager it was time to leave, as they were about to close. I escorted her out, holding the door to the cafe and to the car. Once I was inside, we looked at each other and her mouth turned into that slight smile that I was already falling in love with. “About one minute, I think” I had no idea what she was talking about and said so. “Oh ... Well, right now, you’re going to drive both of us to your home. And I think it will take about one minute for us to take all of our clothes off before you take me to bed.” Who was I to resist a challenge of that magnitude from the most beautiful girl I’d ever laid eyes on? \# # # It turned out that she was wrong -- by about 20 seconds. Then again, I don’t think she’d considered the time saved by torn clothing and buttons that would need to be retrieved and sewn back on later. Afterwards, we lay in bed, sweaty. I had an arm around her while she was half-cuddled against me, one leg hooked over mine, her arm casually draped across my chest, and her head resting against my shoulder. I slowly caressed her golden hair and then I heard her seemingly whisper, “Hold me ... and never let me go.” I instinctively held her closer and tighter before gently kissing her forehead. Then I whispered back, “If that is to be so, dearest ... then we must agree on how we treat each other.” She looked up at me, that smile once again cutting through to my heart. I smiled back warmly, and told her that there must never be secrets between us, not even in the things that we didn’t say to each other. We had to be able to talk about anything and everything -- including the deep, dark secrets that we had never felt safe revealing to anyone else. And we must never say anything to intentionally hurt each other. She tilted her head back, climbing slightly up my body to kiss me, murmuring, “Yes, yes, yes...” as she did. And with that, we had made a certain sort of vow to each other and, magically, had become a couple. \# # # From that point forward, we spent all of our spare time together. When we were in public, our hands would always reach for each others’. And every time that we wound up in bed, after utterly tiring ourselves and each other out, she would always curl up against me and whisper those same words to me. It had become a sort of ritual, in a fashion, and I would now always respond by holding her a bit more tightly, and responding the same way. Somehow, that would melt her as she melted me and she would relax against me, seemingly feeling even more secure with me. Of course, there were complications. Any sort of serious relationship has them. At first, her friends were concerned for her and outright suspicious of me. After enough whispers behind her back, and even to her face, she confronted them. With her fingers twisted with mine, she practically yelled at them, saying that I was the best thing that had ever happened to her and if they were truly her friends, they could see that. I remained silent, almost on the verge of tears hearing her say those things, promising myself that I would never do anything to hurt her. Eventually, her friends came to understand. I suspect that at least part of what drove that understanding was that every time I was with her, she would always reach out to grab my hand, and that simple touch was enough to bring smiles to both our faces. I was never truly accepted as one of them, but they became more willing to allow me into their circle. Worse, though, was her family. Her mother never accepted me, and, I think, never stopped hating me for, she believed, seducing her daughter and taking her virtue. Her father, though, merely started out concerned for her. One time, while waiting for her to finish dressing, with him glaring at me, I quietly told him what she and I had discussed that first night in bed. I didn’t provide the details of the setting, but merely what we had agreed for how to treat each other. His expression softened, he nodded his head and then reached out to shake my hand. “You realize that we can never be ‘best buddies’. But so long as you hold to that for how to treat her, and I can continue to see the sheer joy she gains from being with you ... I have nothing I can say against you.” I nodded understanding and agreement, moments before she came dashing down the stairs, grabbing my arm and shouting a farewell to her family as we went out to whatever we were doing that evening. \# # # We never lost those feelings for each other. Sure, I would occasionally look at someone else, as would she. That’s only natural. But even those instances were talked about between us. “No secrets” means exactly that -- even when we had some sort of passing interest in someone else. No matter what, though, we had both come to the realization that there would never be anyone else for either one of us. Finally, before I asked her, I went to her father. It was still quite awkward between us, but I felt that I needed to -- for my own sake, as well as, perhaps, for hers. I acknowledged that I was being quite “old school”, and then proceeded to ask for his daughter’s hand. He laughed and said, “I’ve seen the way you look at her and she looks at you. I also know the sheer joy you bring to her life, and can only assume the same is true for yours.” I whispered quiet agreement, not wanting to interrupt him. “I would be a fool and a worse father if I denied her that. “I’ll hold you to your promises about how you will treat her. And, honestly, I doubt that there is anything I could do to stop her even if I were to say no. So, yes, if she’ll have you -- and I utterly doubt that she would ever say otherwise -- you have my blessing.” I hadn’t gotten a ring. I was reasonably sure that she would not require such a trinket. That night, with her laying against me, once more ... our ritual completed ... I murmured softly, “Will you be mine, forever? I want to be with you and you with me. I know that it would be nothing more than a ...” I searched for the right words. “A public acknowledgement of what we already have.” Before I had even finished, I felt her nodding her head, whispering, “Yes, yes, yes...” against my chest. Then she looked up at me, her eyes bright and somewhat watery, saying, “... and never let me go.


Sylvia woke up to the sound of her alarm. She got out of bed to turn it off. After getting dressed and having her coffee, she realized she had nothing to do. It was a Saturday, and she did not work on Saturdays. Normally, on a typical Saturday, she would be doing something with her best friend Wanda. Whether it was going to the movies, walking their dogs, or visiting some random town not far away that they’d never been to, they were always doing things together. Wanda had moved to another country a few months ago, though, and Sylvia was left all alone, not having been smart enough to make more than one friend in case something like this happened. Today, Sylvia decided that instead of resorting to what had become her usual Saturday routine since Wanda moved away -- going to several different stores buying things she didn’t need, then coming home and binge-watching some random show with her cat -- she would do something. She decided that today, she would find herself at least one new friend. ~~~ Lora was up at 7:00 AM on what was a normal Saturday for her. After getting up, getting ready, feeding her hamster, her bird, and her bunny, she went outside and got into her old, red car and began to drive to the soup kitchen where she volunteered every weekend. After helping out in the loud kitchen for a couple hours, she got back into her car and drove to the animal shelter where she volunteered twice a week. She walked in carrying some towels, toys, and dog food she had bought earlier this week to donate for the dogs at the shelter. She fed the dogs, helped to bathe them, then went over to the cats and fed them and played with them before going home. She came home with a smile on her face as she entered the small living room of her pastel-yellow house. Her smile faded as she turned her head towards the picture in the little blue and pink polka-dot frame that was standing on her coffee table. It was a picture of her with some of her friends a few summers ago, hiking in the Rocky Mountains. Lora had known those friends for a very long time - they weren’t around anymore, though. Two of her friends had moved to be closer to family; and one of her friends, the one who she probably knew the best, had died a year or two ago from an injury obtained from falling off a motorcycle. Lora was sad, looking at the picture. If her friends were still here, they and Lora would all probably be going hiking, swimming, biking, or rock-climbing right now. They usually did stuff like that on the weekends. Not anymore, thought Lora. She hadn’t really met any new friends since - at least not anyone who she actually enjoyed spending time with; she wished she would meet a person who she could be friends with. She decided to go to the grocery store and buy some stuff she needed, but then she got another idea. ~~~ Sylvia was trying to come up with how she would find a friend. She wasn’t the best at this; she had known Wanda for a long time, which is why they were such good friends. Sylvia didn’t even have to befriend Wanda - they had known each other since they were little girls, when their moms arranged playdates for them. So, Sylvia had never even really had experience trying to make a new friend. But she knew she somehow had to. Eventually, she decided she would write to all of her colleagues asking if maybe they wanted to do something today. What will I write? She thought. I barely know all these people - I only ever occasionally talk with them about work stuff - it will be so out of the blue to ask them to do something with me... Not to mention they all have their own communities of friends... It will be too weird if I ask them... Oh, who cares? It’s not like they adore me anyway. She finally summoned up the courage to text one of her colleagues, Emma. Emma’s nice enough, thought Sylvia and began to write: Hey Emma, I was wondering if you had any plans today? Maybe we could do something together. She pressed send. She then wrote texts and emails of similar content to the rest of her colleagues. I hope this works... She thought, nervously wringing her hands. ~~~ Lora jumped back in her car and went to the grocery store. Maybe, she thought, if I just ask around, I’ll find someone with the same interests as me. She arrived at the store and went inside. She looked around. Who should I ask first? She thought. She settled on a young woman with short, light brown hair who looked to be about the same age as her. Lora confidently walked over to her. “Hi!” said Lora. “Do you like sports?” The woman looked at Lora strangely. “Um, no... not really,” said the woman, and walked away. Lora kept attempting at small talk with the shoppers in the store. “Hi, I’m Lora! What’s your name?” “Margot... Why do you ask?” “Margot’s a lovely name! Are you into water skiing?” “No.” “Ok!” “Hi! What’s your favorite sport?” “Sleeping.” “I’m not sure that’s a sport...” “Leave me alone.” “Hello, I like your blouse!” “Well, I don’t. But it’s all I could afford, so. Who cares.” “Oh...kay?” “Hey! Do you like sports?” “Yes! I love all kinds of sports! Especially swimming! Last summer, me and my friends went on my friends boat... It was awesome! I also like to surf. Do you surf? It’s so awesome. I’m not sure if it’s a sport though... Oh, what’s your favorite color? Mine’s green! Green’s awesome! But not if it’s broccoli... I hate that stuff... disgusting... Oh! I remembered why I came here! I needed to buy apple juice and underwear! Thanks bro!” “Um...” ~~~ Sylvia was drinking tea when her phone dinged to indicate that she'd gotten her first response. Sylvia checked to see who it was. It was Emma: Sorry, I can’t today. Me and Lia are going to the mall. Lia was another one of Sylvia’s colleagues. Oh, well, thought Sylvia. She decided to check her inbox. She had gotten responses from most of the people she’d written to: Sorry, I’m busy today. Can’t, I have a thing. No, I’m hanging out with my friends today. Are you hitting on me? Sorry, I’m busy. I have a lot of work... Apologies. No, thanks. I’m sorry, I’m just very busy today - lots of errands. Well, thought Sylvia. I tried. ~~~ Lora was exhausted from trying to make friends at the store. She bought a few groceries, and headed home in her little, red car. She came home, parked her car, brought in her groceries, and decided to take a walk. ~~~ Sylvia closed her laptop, and quickly texted Emma: No problem! Then she took her dog and went outside to walk her dog. ~~~ Lora and Sylvia were both walking past the park when they saw each other. Lora, afraid she’d get a bad response again if she said anything, stayed silent. Sylvia, eager to talk to somebody, piped up. “Hi, I’m Sylvia. I like your shirt!” Lora looked down at her purple shirt with a silver paw print on the front. “Thanks! I’m Lora, it’s nice to meet you.” “Nice to meet you too!” “Your dog is so cute,” said Lora. “Thanks, this is Baxter. He’s a Border Collie.” “Cool! I actually volunteer at an animal shelter sometimes, and I work at a vet clinic,” Lora said. “Can I pet him?” She asked. “Of course,” answered Sylvia. Lora pet the dog, and they kept on talking as they walked down the street. They each had gotten what they wanted - Sylvia finally succeeded in making a new friend, and Lora finally found a friend with the same interests as her. They became best friends, and from that day they always spent their Saturdays together. ~~~THE END~~~


How can she do this to me? I don’t want to be alone again. I’ve spent my whole life trying to find a partner, not just the romantic kind, but my chosen partner always left me. For the longest time I did not want children in my life. The thought of being tied down and woken up early filled me with dread. Over time those reservations melted away and the idea of pouring my love into a small creation of my own became insatiable, but like most things in life I left it too late: the biological bus had left the station before I found someone I was willing to share it with. In the end they left too, although it was a small Volkswagen car that they left in, taking the remnants of my youth and my best bedding with them, or did they take the towels? I guess it doesn’t matter now. My sister is looking at me from across the room, giving me one of those ‘I’m trying to read your mind looks’. When we were young we were never that close, I was the tomboy who gravitated towards Dad and went to football games, she was the perfect lady, accompanying Mum on her shopping trips and ladies lunches. When it was just the two of us we never really knew what to say to each other. I suppose I envied her in a way, getting to spend all that time with Mum, before the illness took her from us. ‘Are you alright, Susie?’ I turn towards my little sister and nod. She looks different. She looks older. I still think of her as the little girl, who would run screaming when I dug up worms for fishing trips and threw them at her. Our Dad used to take me out on this little boat, that was bright blue, or maybe it was yellow? No it was red and it was called...oh I can’t remember. Anyway we would spend the day fishing together and he would tell me everything. On the last trip he told me he wouldn’t be around as much because he’d found someone who made him happy. Well she can’t have made him happy for long because he left her too and then we never saw him again. My Mum burned all the photos we had of him and I can’t remember what he looked like now, although I’m starting to get that way with most people these days: just last week I invited the Amazon delivery man in for a coffee thinking he was my old maths teacher. When I close my eyes and think really hard, I can almost bring my Dad’s face into view, but his eye colour begins to blur like a kaleidoscope and his features shift and bend like cloud patterns. ‘Do you want me to get you some water? They will be here soon.’ My sister is speaking again, she’s good at that. Even though she was the baby, she bossed me around, and once it was just the two of us she stepped into the roll of Mum. I guess I played the part of Dad quite well, I often just disappeared too. I knew how much she would worry and how furious she would be with me when I did return. I don’t know why I did that really, because when I break it all down to the bare essentials she is the only person who has ever stood by my side from day one. Why did I feel the need to punish her for tethering her cart to me? Probably because I never deserved her love. I never managed to find it anywhere else. So why did she offer it up to me to willingly? Oh bloody hell I’m crying now. ‘Oh Susie, please don’t cry. It’s going to be alright you know, you’ll see. She’s walked over to me and I can feel her fingers raising my glasses off my nose and dabbing the corner of a tissue into my eyes. Her warm hand brushes through my ever thinning hair and rests on my neck. I try and bring my hand to meet her, but wince in pain when I try and move the arm that is strapped to my chest in a brace. Funny, I don’t remember it being like that? My other arm moves much better and I wrap my fingers around hers. She is staring at me, that same worried stare that she has given me my entire life: when she found me sleeping on a park bench after Dad left, when she picked me up from the airport after my love affair with the French..no Spanish waiter fell apart, when she appeared beside my hospital bed after I had slipped on the ice and broken my arm. She put her life on hold for me, she didn’t go to college because she needed to pay the bills. She put me before her husband and he left her childless and alone again. I can’t remember when she came to stay with me, I probably insisted that she leave and that I was alright. Truth be told I’ve never been alright. I have always found people who I wanted to be my rock, that I could hang on to and be safe, but they all crumbled away to dust in my hands, all of them except her. From across the room there’s a knock on the door. I wonder if it’s Mr Jackson, it must be about time for my maths lesson. I need to tell my sister how I feel, before it’s too late. From now on I don’t want to be apart from her, I’ve taken her for granted and it’s my time to repay her. She gives my hand a squeeze and a tired smile appears across her face. She dabs the tissue to her eyes and then shuffles across the room to the front door. Two women dressed in white enter. They all turn to look at me and then begin whispering to each other. I try to get to my feet but my legs won’t seem to move? ‘Hi Susie, you’re going to come with us to your new home,’ said the shorter of the two nurses with the uneven fringe. They all have the same pitying smiles on their faces and now the two women in white are grabbing me with their firm hands and raising me to my feet. I turn to my sister and try to speak, I want to tell her how sorry I am for dragging her down, I want to tell her that everything will be alright from now on, I want to tell her I love her, but the words won’t join up properly and the only sound that escapes my mouth is a whining groan. ‘They will look after you now Susie. I tried, my God how I tried, but I can’t do it any more. You took the best of me. I’m sorry, Sister, but I need a few years on my own before it’s all over for me.’ My eyes start leaking again and the larger of the two women presses a tissue into my face. There is a dull ache in my chest and a lifetime of missed chances spin through my mind, I want to stop each one and remove it but they can’t be expunged at this point. I now know that this is completely of my own making, created by a lifetime of small betrayals, each one cutting and slicing at my sister, finally causing her to lose enough blood and kill our relationship entirely. I offer her one final smile and look at her for what I know will be the final time.


It’s a typical Monday night. 8 O’clock and I’m just waiting to go to sleep for work tomorrow. I’ve got Monday night football playing on the tube, and a tombstone pizza on my coffee table. It’s chilly outside, crisp air, and clear dark skies. A perfect night for Star gazing. *WOOF WOOF* My dog outside usually barks. Nothing to worry about. Probably just needs some food. I turn down the volume on the TV, grab my Calvin Klein jacket and walk outside. I hate going outside in the dark, on account of my schizophrenia. It just makes everything worse, and today is a particularly difficult day with the illness. Nevertheless, I go to the shed and get a can full of Ol’Roy dog food for my dog, Bear. Bear is laying still on the concrete driveway and doesn’t appear to be spooked. This gives me some reassurance that everything is okay. *You’re fucked* I shrug it off as just an annoying voice I’ve had in the past. I typically hear that kind of shit all the time. It’s usually some obnoxious semi-demonic voice that casually drops the word “fuck”. I pour the dog food into the bowl. Bear still lays still and doesn’t move, but his tail flicks. He begins to growl. I turn around and see nothing. Maybe he’s just growling at me, who knows. I finish pouring the food into the bowl and head to the shed to put the can up. On my way back to the shed I look up and I can see the sky so clearly. It’s beautiful. This is the part of rural Wisconsin I love. The beautiful night sky, with the crisp windy air. It takes any depression, anxiety or other mental illness away in a heartbeat. I’ve always been a believer in - SNAP. Something snaps in the dark. This raises my paranoia to the max. I keep going to the shed, and open the door. This time, I try to turn on the light, but it doesn’t work for some reason. I feel my way to the dog food, and drop the can in the bag. I turn around, and at that moment I hear a squeak. A squeak of a mouse, or maybe the door. I brush it off, and continue back to the house. I walk out of the shed, and look for bear. He’s no longer laying on the concrete. I call out to him “BEARRR!!” Bear comes running up, I greet him and pet him. As I look closer, I realize something is a bit off about bear. He’s walking normal, breathing normal, and feels normal. Yet, there’s something off. I get down on one knee to examine him closer. He has his eyes shut for some reason. I try to open his eyes, and to my shock, I see they are missing. There’s nothing in his eye sockets, just eyelids covering the two holes. I freeze. Bear moves his head up to me, as if he were looking directly at me. At this moment he opens his eye lids, so his empty eye sockets are staring directly at my own eyes. I scream, and fall back on my ass. Bear continues to just blankly stare at me. What the fuck is happening, I think. *FUCK FUCK FUCK* The voices go wild now. *It’s dead, it’s dying, oh fuck, oh shit, what the hell?* At that moment, Bear falls over. He vomits as he lays on his side. He stops breathing, and I scream. I scream as loud as I’ve ever screamed before. My best friend, my everything is dead. I don’t even know what happened to him, what got his eyes? As I scream, I realize Bear is twitching. His body is still alive, but I feel his soul has left. *You’re so fucked, you killed him. You dumbass, save him. SAVE HIM MORON.* I run inside my house. I grab the phone, but at that moment, everything goes dark. Even the moon. There is a figure in my hallway. It stands there and stares at me. As I look at it. My vision gets blurry. *Three days later.....* I wake up in a sweat. I’m laying on my floor. I try to open my eyes, but they just won’t. I take my hand and peel back my eyelid, and suddenly, I feel..... my sockets are empty.


“Okay, Wizz, do you want to tell them the surprise? Or shall I?” “You always have such a flair for the dramatic, Paul. You go right on ahead.” “Always such a gentleman. Folks, last time you heard us, we were testing out some magical new coffee drinks. Well, you won’t believe where we are this fine morning. After spending endless amounts of money--” “--none from our sponsors or our fans, of course--” “--and lots of last-minute planning--completely legal and ethical, of course--we managed to scrape up two rocket tickets to...hold your breaths... Pl --” “-- Planet Astrid !” “You have got to be kidding me. You absolute dipshit.” “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” “Bloody hell. Screw you.” “That’s right, folks! We’re touring the grand opening of Planet Astrid at the main port city, Golden Kingdom. We’re at the legendary farmer’s market to share with our listeners some of the extraterrestrial goodies you can be sure to find on your own visit!” “And let me just say--this shit is whack , ya’ll.” “Truly bizarre. Granted, I might be...um...” “Tripping balls, Wizz? I believe that’s the phrase you’re looking for, right?” “I may have just tried a few extraterrestrial mushrooms, yeah. That’s what Paul meant to say, folks. But he’s sober. So, ya know--we’re responsible. Sort of. Maybe. Yeah. Obviously.” “What were they called again?” “Mushrooms, I think?” “Wizz, you just said that. I meant, what were the mushrooms called? So our listeners know what to buy--er, what to avoid?” “Said what?” “Mushrooms, Wizz. Focus.” “What about them?” “Jesus, dipshit. You’re hangin’ on by a thread, aren’t ya?” “You know what’s weird, Paul? Mushrooms. It doesn’t make any sense. Think about it. Mush. Rooms. Are rooms mushy? Or is it for those sled dogs? Mush? Get it? Mush. Mush. What a weird fucking word, man. What does one do in mush rooms? Can you sleep in them? Are there windows? A bed?” “Mate, we’re live on the air. You gotta focus. For the fans, Wizz. For the fans.” “Haha. Hahahaha. Mush in the rooms. Rooms of mush. Mushrooms.” “Folks, I’m dreadfully sorry about this. I’m just going to get some water for Wizz here. There we are; right over here, buddy, just at this stall. That’s it. Here’s a cup--thanks, sir. Ladies and gents, a nice young man stationed at this very awesome beverage stall just offered us this here cup of water, which I’m now pouring straight down Wizz’s hatch until he swallows the last drop. That sounded dirtier than I intended, but ya’ll can pick up what I’m putting down. Yup. There it is. Better, pal? “Paul?” “Yeah?” “I don’t think that was water.” "Huh." "Hmm." "Yeah." "Yup." “ Dammit . Well, folks, this is just a travesty. I’ve been informed by that young asshole--er, gentleman--at the beverage stall that this bloody drink is actually a type of hallucinogenic liquid found in the hybrid swamp-desert regions of this planet. They call it...well, they call it Delirium. So, while this is very unfortunate for Wizz, this is absolutely hilarious for me.” “Delirium? So, you mean on top of tripping actual planetary balls I’m also gonna be hallucinating ? Are you fucking kidding me?” “Wizz, I’m truly sorry, my friend--” “That is fucking awesome !” “Huh. Well, folks, that’s certainly a different response than I expected. So, thus far, Wizz has tried some extraterrestrial mushrooms and some hallucinogenic liquid. This trip is proving to be...out of this world. Right? Right, Wizz? Get it?” “ Stop. That’s...that’s just so...so...funny...I’m crying, Paul...stop...” “Um, folks? Wizz is on the ground. Give ‘im a minute to catch his breath. And his life. He might actually die. You look a little purple there, bud--” “ What in the actual fresh hell is that ?” “Uh, folks, Wizz is now pointing maniacally at something behind me. Can’t see anything. Guess that’s the Delirium talking. This is going to be a very long day. Wizz, can you stop--people are staring at us, Wizz--” “Paul! It’s behind you ! Look--” “Wizz, buddy, you’re tripping. And hallucinating. Nothing’s there, man. I’m serious.” “Paul, get down! Get down ! You’re not gonna make it--” “Alright, folks, I’m now heading to a medical tent and dragging Wizz here behind me because he honestly doesn’t seem like he’s in the best shape. Ah. There’s one. Just a few more steps, buddy. There we go. Hello? Yes? My friend needs some...yeah. Whatever that is. I'm just going to pray that it's not something else that will fuck him up, but at this point, anything goes. Wizz, just take the goddamn fluids. Okay, folks. There he goes. Looks like an IV drip but at this point, who actually knows. He’s starting to...yup, he’s starting to come around--” “You know what feels like actual shit, Paul?” “What?” “Me. Me, Paul. I feel like actual horse shit.” “Well, you did take some alien shrooms and some alien plants. Sounds like that’ll do it to ya.” “Hey, folks, don’t worry--I’m alive. I think. Although I wouldn’t mind being dead after this goddamn headache. But after all of that, I just want to say: you gotta try this shit, ya’ll.” “Wizz, do you really think that’s the advice that we need to be giving to our listeners here?” “Kids gotta start young.” “Folks, please ignore Wizz; I think he’s still tripping.” “What’s next on the list? We’ve gotta try out some other stalls, Paul.” “Um. No.” “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.” “Wizz, with your luck--and mine, honestly--whatever we find at the next stall will literally kill you.” “That cut deep. And yet, I still can’t blame you. Come on; let’s go!” “Buddy, you’re still hooked up--oh, geez, I’m sorry ma’am, my friend is not--Wizz, sit back down--folks, looks like he’s fully out of the medical tent now against medical advice, which kind of seems like a legal problem that I should look into, but I just don’t really care--” “Paul! Over here! Looks like I found some pills that do something!" "Goddammit. Folks, looks like I'll be signing out early. Wizz just swallowed some alien pills and is now trying to eat his own hands. Until next time."


Once there were 3 children Josh, Amy, and Martin. Their parents were on vacation in Philadelphia so they were living with their grandparents for quite a while. Grandpa would typically just lay on the couch, scratch his big belly and fall asleep. While, on the oth ́t́ hand, Grandma would walk around the house and give out her freshly baked cookies to the neighbors, and water the plants in the house. One day when Grandma was about to go for a walk she saw it was snowing. Grandma was not able to walk in the snow so she called Josh, Amy, and Martin to help build a pathway around the house so, she could walk. Then she went inside to water her plants while the kids shoveled the snow. The next day while grandpa was snoring and honking in his sleep the three kids all tiptoed outside while granny was watching T.V. and ran away! The next day missing posters were spreading like wildfire around the city! Then a police officer said, “Three kids are missing please help find-” just then and banana hit him on the head and he went blurting out crazy things. But did you think granny was going to give up NO! Granny was still on the search for Amy, Josh, and Martin. She went door to door banging at people’s doors and holding them by the collar yelling “HAVE YOU SEEN MY THREE GRANDCHILDREN!!”But sadly no one knew. One day when grandma went for a walk outside in a nearby alley she saw a donkey and a horse talking about something she crept over to listen to what they were talking aboút what she heard next was breathtaking “What do you think we should do with the three children” said the horse “Let them go?” said the donkey“No you idiot why would we capture them in the first place ?” said the horse“You wanna know what was the biggest mistake of my life? HIRING YOU TO JOIN MY GANG!” said the horse that's when the grandma realized that the horse and the donkey had taken Amy, Josh, and Martin. But she had to be sure about it. So she kept on listening “Can you remind me what the three children were?, I forgot?” said the donkey“Ugh! Now you're forgetful on top of being an idiot” said the horse “Uhhhhh yeah” said the donkey “Listen the three children are one girl and two boys” Now this made grandma sure that the horse and the donkey had taken Amy, Josh, and Martin. She wanted to confront them but she knew that if she wanted to get her three grandchildren back she had to be smart. So she walked over to them and said“Have you two seen my three grandchildren? ”The donkey and the horse looked at each other and then the donkey said “Yes, your grand-” just then the horse covered the donkey's mouth with its hoove and said“No maḿ we have not seen your grandchildren” But the donkey said that he knew about my grandchildren,” said the grandma “Uhhhhhhhh............................ma'am I think itś because you have uh um a hearing problem uh yeah a hearing problem because the donkey said uhh nothing yeah he...... he was just ..........................................................uh.........lip-syncing,” said the horse“Yup I was lip-syncing,” said the donkey nudging the horse.“You can go along now there's nothing to see here ” That's when grandma felt even more determined to stand up and find her grandchildren. So she said“Your right it is probably my hearing problem but how did you know that I had a hearing problem?” Because................................all grandmas have hearing problems?” said the horse “So uh we have something to do remember horse,” said the donkey “Um yeah we do um bye!” said the horse and with that, they both ran out of there. And from that day grandma raised her suspicion and started sending police officers to every home in the town. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months but still after long days of investigation no hope. So she had no choice but to call the super-hero of the town.......SUPERNOVA! Grandma went inside took down a painting and said“SUPERNOVA, SUPERNOVA, SUPERNOVA!!!!!”And like that Supernva the centar appeared in front of grandma “Supernova my dear my three grandchildrn have gone missing for months and their parents will be coming in a week but I have no idea where they are ” said grandma “Itś ok grandma I will find them for you now tell me do you have any suspects?”said Supernova.“As a matter of a fact I do but this might sound silly its a doney and a horse ”said grandma“You mean the Animals illistration gang yeah they dress up as animals and capture kids many kids have gone missing and never seen again”said supernova“No,NO,No no no I can not lose my three granchildren please supernova do something I will give you whatever you need ”said grandma “Dont worry over the past year I have being doing some anylis on the Animals illitration gangs weakness and turns out its lemon mixed with frosting all you need to do is just disguise the frosting by putting it on your famous cookies”said supernova“Well I think I can do that thank you supernova.”said grandma and like supernova vanished, and grandma ran to the kitchen and started making the cookies and adding the frosting with lemon on. The next day she went to the same alley where she saw them before and just like that the horse and the donkey were over there She walked up to them and said “I am sorry about the other day so I decided to bake you some of my faomus cookies wih extra icing on as an apolizy ”The horse and the donkey looked at each other then the cookies and then started gobbling them up after two minutes both the horse the the donkeyś eyes glowed and said the three children are in the basement of the coordinates in 178.73600.“Thats 10 minutes away”said grandma so she took a cab and rushed to the place and when she got there she ran to the basemant the lights were so she went to switch the light on.......................................“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDMA,HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!!!!”sang everyone and there grandma saw Amy , Josh, and Martin and their parents with disguies on as a horse and a donkey and even supernova.“Ahhh this all makes sense now you all faked this whole scene just to wish me a happy brithday you guys are so sweet”said grandma and with that everybody got into a tight hug. Oh, and as well for the police officer he was still running around town yelling crazy things.