“Honey! Something is seriously wrong with me! I think I’m losing my mind!” shrieked Daniel over the phone to his wife. His heart was pounding so fast that he felt as though it would just fall of his chest. He was shivering and sweating profusely. His hand was trembling while holding his mobile phone. “Calm down Danny. What’s wrong?” Jessica asked. “I don’t know Jessy. Something is wrong with my eyes. Or something could be wrong with my brain” Daniel’s panic was apparent in his voice. “Baby, please pull yourself together and tell me what is going on!” Jessica begged. “I don’t know if it was something I ate last night. I think I am hallucinating” “Danny, you are making me worried! Are you alright?” Jessica was starting to panic. * * * Daniel and Jessica are happily married for five years now and they have a beautiful three-year-old daughter, Stephanie. The memory of their first meeting is still fresh in Daniel’s mind. What was supposed to be a regular night’s out with friends turned out to be the most important moment in Daniel’s life. It was like a breath of fresh air when Daniel laid his eyes on Jessica in that house party. She was cruising around the party with her red dress and her free-falling brown hair flowing like a river. The breeze that accompanied her stride, the shadow that struggled to keep up with her vibrancy is still the topic of discussion that Daniel never fails to bring up during their annual anniversary celebration. Their relationship was a classical fairy-tale that usually earned the jealousy of their close circle. Daniel has never left Jessica’s side throughout their marriage. Jessica’s morning wake-up kiss, her unparalleled morning tea were all part of Daniel’s must-have morning routines and it has been for the past five years of their beautiful marriage. This is the first time Daniel has been separated from his wife for more than a week. As a newly promoted marketing executive, it became a part of Daniel’s job to entertain customers from all parts of the world. His first assignment is in Hungary and he had to leave his wife for the first time in five years. The goodbye was long and hard and Daniel had no heart to leave his wife and daughter. The thought of quitting his job and even volunteering to get demoted to avoid travelling a lot crossed his mind. Somehow, he convinced himself that it was just for two weeks and after that he will be reunited with his wife again. Danial took a photograph with his wife on his polaroid camera right before leaving and kept it in his wallet to bring it with him to Hungary. That photograph was his only company throughout his journey to Hungary. The first few days in Hungary were hard to get used to but daily video calls and the exchange of heart-warming messages kept the day going for Daniel. Every night ended with Daniel closing his eyes while looking at the photograph he took with Jessica right before leaving. It was almost a week since their separation when things started to go wrong. The night before, Daniel had a meeting with his client in a bar and he went unusually heavy on his drinks to impress his client. They shared such a good rapport and the deal concluded smoothly. But the quantity of drinks that Daniel had was way beyond his threshold. It was a surprise to him that he went back to his hotel room in one piece that night. That night he didn’t manage to look at his photograph before sleeping as his eyelids were too heavy. The next morning started with a bit of a hangover. He tried to brush off the headache and looked for his photograph. There was some other lady posing with him instead of his wife in the photograph! He brushed his eyes harder and looked at the photograph again without squinting. He could not believe his eyes! It wasn’t Jessica in the picture! Its definitely the same photograph; he could even see his daughter running towards them in the background as she tried to squeeze in with them for the photograph. But the lady in the picture beside him definitely wasn’t Jessica. He immediately picked up his phone and dialled Jessica. * * * “Honey, please tell me what is going on! I am freaking out here.” Jessica yelled. “The photograph that we took has changed. You are not there anymore!” Daniel revealed. “What are you blabbering Danny?” “I swear it was alright until yesterday. But today something is wrong. Some other lady is there instead of you! I know I must be sounding like a mad man now!” “Baby, what did you have last night? You said you might have had something?” “I just had a couple of drinks with a client. I may have gone overboard with the drinks but I thought I could sleep it off. I never thought I could go mad!” “Danny, I am worried. Can you please just come back? Like right now!” Jessica’s worry came out like an order. That sounded like the exact thing Daniel should be doing right now. He put down the phone and booked the next available flight back home. Throughout his journey back, Daniel kept staring at the photograph hoping that he could gain his sanity back. But he realized the strange women looked even older as time pass by. It was almost sunrise when Daniel arrived home. He rushed in through the front door to fall in the arms of his wife who he assumed would be waiting for his arrival and hoping to wake up from this nightmare. Unfortunately, Jessica was in the bathroom taking a shower. “Honey, I am home!” Daniel announced. “Baby! You are back! Give me a minute, I will be out. I have made your favourite morning tea. It’s on the table. Have a sip and I will join you in a jiffy” said Jessica from the bathroom. Daniel’s favourite tea was waiting for him on the table. He felt like he was home when he took the first sip. He missed it so much. He missed her so much. Daniel’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Jessica walking towards him to welcome him; the same way he felt five years ago when he first saw her. His love for her has not fade one bit. There she was, looking exactly the same way as she always did; as vibrant as usual. He rushed and hugged her tightly. “Baby, I was worried about you. Is everything alright?” Jessica whispered in Daniel’s ears. “Look at this honey” Daniel immediately took out his wallet and showed Jessica the photograph. “I don’t see anything wrong baby” Jessica looked puzzled. Daniel was shocked to realize that Jessica was posing beside him, exactly how it was when the photograph was taken. The strange lady was gone. “I swear honey! An old lady was there in your place! I swear!” Daniel could not believe his eyes. He has definitely gone crazy. “Its ok baby. Maybe you were just too tired and missed me so much” Jessica gave Daniel a comforting hug. Daniel was extremely mystified while Jessica looked at their reflection in the mirror nearby and let out a sinister smile. She has been doing it successfully for the past five years. A two-week business trip is not going to meddle with her master plan. “Do you want to finish your tea before going to bed baby? You must be tired” Jessica handed Daniel her ‘special’ tea.


The library. Beth was always oh-so fond of browsing through the books, eyeing the titles on the well-worn spines and finding her smile in spite of herself. The smell of burnt wood seemed to flow through the air and into her nose, accompanied by the lingering scent of paper and ink, the two of which lay heavy in the air. It must've been something about the candles littered about, precariously placed on stacks of even more books, or maybe it's the long window that stretch from floor to ceiling, from which the outside sunshine shares its rays into the room, flooding the heavenly, cosy place with its radiant warmth. Something about libraries has always struck Beth as... what's the word? Let's just take it home-like, or.. maybe snug, homey, cosy, warm, safe. Libraries, big and small, old and new, have struck Beth's tender, womanly fancies every time. And now, here she was, feeling in her element as she explored a new happy place, a safe haven in which she would take refuge in her darkest times. Her bright, hazel eyes scanned the book spines, her chocolate-coloured hair swinging to and fro in a sheet at her movements. Oh, what a lovely place is a library. Her nimble, long fingers ghosted over the books, in which she held a delightful pleasant love for so strong that she didn't feel as if her day was yet to complete without picking up a book and reading a word if need be. Then, an odd object stuck out of the shelves, and, intrigued, she pulled it out. It seemingly stuck to the shelf, and with a tilted head, Beth pulled on it harder, confused. Another pull and it won't budge, but something else moved. The bookshelf. It made a creaking sound, and gears cranking together were heard. Shocked, she stepped back, and looked at the bookshelf, now moving to the right, after jolting backwards. Her eyes filled with wonder and curiosity. Soon, a niche now existed in the place of the bookshelf, which had no ceased to appear, having apparently lodged itself somewhere behind the bookshelf next to it. The niche was big enough for an adult human to fit through, so Beth slid in with ease, though she was precarious, for these kind of exciting things were rather rare in the occurrence of her daily life, droll and dull. Inside, it was dark, but, as if sensing her motions, antique wall-lamps switched on automatically. Surprise was etched clearly on Beth's face, as she went down the now illuminated steps of the unknown room. The walls were damp, and something emerald that was apparently moss covered the walls, which made them slippery and cold, reminding one of a snake, or some other spine-chilling creature. Beth's eyes reflected excitement, fear, curiosity, and confusion all at once, and how they shined once she reached the end of the long staircase down the imposing hall. Under the library was a secret study, an office of some kind. The whole place was littered with books, carelessly strewn about. The floor was carpeted with an expensive kind, of fur or something. Never-ending bookshelves lined all the walls, and there were many cosy lights scattered just as messily as the books. Ancient books were they, for the spines were weak and the covers were well-worn. These little flaws didn't affect Beth in the slightest though, for she loved all kinds of books, and didn't care whether they were old or new, fresh or aged, for a genuine book lover she was. Nearby, there was a merry fire crackling, its flames a mix of dark blue and green instead of the original red and orange, which piqued Beth's curiosity to the utmost. Droll decorations ornamented the room, a Christmas wreath hung on a wall, a few copied pictures of the Mona Lisa, The Starry Night and The Girl With a Pearl Earring were hung about the brick walls. There were couches with cushions stacked neatly, and the whole place smelled like coffee, vanilla, and maybe throw in some ink and spices into the mix that Beth's nose inhaled. Beth sank into one of the big cushions, having picked up a compulsive book on the floor, and sighing at the luxury of the private place she had found, she began reading the book, with legs curled up like a feline would. Suddenly, the cushions behind her back disappeared and went to somewhere that she still didn't know to this day, and when she looked around, slightly panicked, her gaze fell to the bottom of the chair which she had sat in. There was a hole, though tiny, it grew larger and larger, expanding widely, before eventually being big enough to swallow her whole, book and all. Beth's lips uttered a sacred shriek of sheer sock, as she fell down into the hole, that went on and on for what seemed like days, as she clutched the book to her chest and prayed to God for her safety. Then, her small frame hit the ground with a thud, and her book fell out of her arms with another thud. Dizzy and scared, she roamed the room, which seemed to be a cylinder kind, and she picked up her fallen book, for it was her only companion in this (literally) dark time. The sunshine flowed freely through her bedroom windows, irradiating her room with warmth and comfort. Her eyes fluttered open as she clutched the book she has fallen asleep too that night. She breathed out a long sigh, relieved and found herself to be safe in her bed, blankets pooling about her. It was a dream, after all. Two weeks after that dream she had, Beth read the newspaper to find some exciting news: "A new library has opened in town! Come visit now!" When she hurried to the library, her nimble fingers once again ghosted on the books' spines, and once again she found an odd object sticking out. She pulled on it, only to find it didn't move. Upon another hard pull, the bookshelf moved, and with her natural curiosity and completely forgetting about her dream, in she went and down she stepped on the stairs.


The desert lay calm at sunset. The main star that gave the planet its daytime had long been gone, and her smaller cousin was following the same path. At this hour, the human eye could only recognize shadows before the horizon. Among the shapes of copious cacti, something stood out: the figure of a woman in a squatting position. Lena grabbed some of the fern-like plants she had gathered earlier and proceeded to clean herself. She then pulled her black leather pants up and walked towards her motorcycle. The woman gazed into the rear view mirror and noticed that her hair was getting too long, so she grabbed her bowie knife and began to shave it off. The short black strings that fell off her scalp got carried away by the warm desert wind and quickly disappeared. The young bounty huntress knew that her destination was close. Luckily, she wouldn’t have to spend another night out in the hot desert. Unfortunately, that delicious can of beans she kept in one of the pockets of her bike would have to wait. Lena stepped on her black chopper and took off, leaving a thick cloud of sand behind her back. An hour later, in the dark of the night, Lena spotted a beacon. A huge neon sign that stood in the distance read “Welcome to Yuma”. The woman smiled at the sight of the only non-astral light that could be spotted in miles. In spite of it, this wasn’t a smile of joy. The word “welcome” seemed almost ironic. Not a concept someone would link to the capital. The old chopper went straight through the unguarded gates of the city. The place had definitely made a change. At one point in time, the compound was meant to serve as the main prison of the largest penal colony the Earth kept in the galaxy. But this was long before Lena’s birth, and not particularly of her interest. She had her own reasons to visit that big old dump for the first time. The sights weren’t what most would call pretty. The city seemed to never sleep. The dirty streets were crowded with junkies and criminals of the worst kind. Everyone out in the desert knew that Yuma was only good for two things: getting hooked or getting killed. But Lena had something else in mind. She knew that drugs and thugs were attracted to money like a moth to a flame, and she was going to get her share. The loud roar of the bike began to fade when it arrived in the main street of block P-113. The young woman parked it right outside a filthy looking joint with a sign that read “The Bushy Juicy”. Without further ado, she walked towards the door and entered the place. The inside looked just as expected. The floor was exquisitely decorated with cigarette butts, spit, and a couple of used condoms here and there. The rest looked very much like the cellblock it once was, except for some added furniture. The tavern appeared to be empty. Lena walked towards the bar and sat on one of the stools. Soon enough, a shabby looking old man appeared from inside a room behind the bar. He then walked up to Lena, took his dirty apron off and began to dust the counter with it. “What can I do you for?” he asked, while shamelessly inspecting Lena’s body with his eyes. “I think I’ll start with some black tequila,” she replied in a deep voice. Lena loosened the zipper on her leather jacket, exposing more of her bosom. The bartender smiled. “I take it you are a desert dweller... Not many people in the city have a stomach for the local cacti,” he claimed while picking up a bottle from the shelf and pouring its black liquid into a glass. “I guess I’m a wildflower, I am not fond of greenhouse plants.” Lena quickly swallowed the tequila and placed the glass back on the wooden bar. “Like this wood... You don’t see much of it around these parts.” The woman knocked on the counter. “I have some connections... But I take it you aren’t here to talk about wood...” Lena let out a smirk. “Well... as a matter of fact, I am. I’ve heard you deal with whores that could make one night in the city worthwhile.” Lena grabbed the bottle and filled her glass again. “I’ve got both guys and dolls that could fuck you senseless. Even I could be up for the task... I’d give you a fair price of course...” The old man looked at Lena’s cleavage and bit his lower lip with his toothless gums. “I came here looking for someone in particular. A friend of mine recommended me a young hooker called Romeo.” Lena emptied her glass again in one quick motion. The barkeeper laughed. “Romeo? I am sorry dear but the only Romeo I know does not have a taste for women... You need someone who knows how to treat you right...” the man leaned against the bar, getting closer to Lena. “I must insist. I came all the way here to see if this man is worthy of his fame. I could pay double his usual price!” Suddenly a harsh, loud voice was heard. It came from the top of the staircase situated behind Lena. “Double eh?” A remarkably tall and muscular man walked down the stairs with nothing on but his skin and a pair of sleepers. “Even with all the moaning upstairs, I can still hear the chiming of coins.” “You must be the man I’ve heard so much about!” exclaimed Lena, while taking a long look at Romeo’s body. “I hear you only deal with men... I hope you are willing to make an exception,” she then said while detaching a bag from her belt and throwing it towards the naked man. Romeo caught the bag and opened it, revealing rhodium coins worth five times what he was used to. He looked at the woman and smiled. “Where I come from there’s a saying: ‘a hole is a hole’. The rooms are upstairs.” Romeo made a gesture with his arm, inviting Lena to head to the top floor. The woman led the way. While following her, Romeo turned towards the bartender and nodded his head. The old man seemed to understand the meaning of it instantly and nodded back. The moans of pleasure kept getting louder as they walked towards the upper floor. When they got there, Lena stopped and observed the scene. A long line of metal doors extended before her eyes. Those were undoubtedly recycled cells, now used for a much merrier purpose. Romeo walked in front of Lena and entered a room that had the number ‘389’ printed on the door. The woman followed and shut the door behind her back. “Let me get more comfortable...” she then said. Lena took off her leather jacket and placed it on a metal chair. This left her upper body bare, except for a pair of leather gloves. “Just lay on that bed and I’ll do what you paid me to do,” answered Romeo while pointing at the cot. His voice seemed reluctant, perhaps suspicious. Lena took off her belt and threw it on the floor. Romeo quickly noticed that it had a sheath attached, where she kept her bowie knife. The eager woman lay on the bed and began to unzip her leather pants. “Come here, baby.” Her voice sounded both demanding and eager. She extended her arm. When the man approached her she held the back of his head. Then, she gently pushed it towards her hips, until his lips met her labia. The hooker gave his best performance. He could barely remember the last time he had lain with a woman. Nonetheless, Lena appeared to be satisfied by his skills. Every time that Romeo tried to lift his head up she pushed it back down, keeping it tight between her legs. The intense procedure lasted about twenty minutes. After a long and intense orgasm, the girl released her lover and allowed him to move. The man stood up and walked straight to the table where he had left his payment. He began to count the coins. Meanwhile, Lena wiped herself with the sheet and put her pants back on. “We are done. I hope you enjoyed yourself. You can come back at any time,” said Romeo. His eyes were still fixated in the rhodium coins. “You seem to like money an awful lot. There’s more where that came from, you know?” asked Lena while rubbing her crotch. “Maybe I could trade it for something else...” The man quickly turned his head towards Lena and frowned. “What are we talking about?” “I am looking for a man that goes by the name of Sanchez... Perhaps you could tell me where--” Romeo didn’t allow Lena to finish her sentence. “I knew it! You are a bounty hunter! You damn bitch, I knew it since the moment you came in!” His look had completely transformed into one that Lena had seen many times before. The look a man gives only when he is about to kill someone. Romeo jumped on the bed ready to grab Lena by the neck, but she rolled away instantly. She fell on the floor and quickly regained balance. By the time the man could react, the bounty huntress had already clung to his back and was using her right arm to try to choke him. Lena was far from being a small woman, but this adversary seemed like a giant in comparison. Romeo stood up swiftly and carried the bounty hunter on his back showing no signs of effort. Then, he ran backward towards the metal wall and smashed the woman against it. Lena tried to keep choking the colossus, but she didn’t handle a second blow against the hard metal. The young bounty huntress fell on the ground and tried to reach for the knife she had left on the floor. The effort was futile. Romeo got ahead and grabbed the knife by the handle. He pulled it out of its sheath and, in one agile movement, he held it against her. “Don’t you move bitch! I told the barkeeper to call Sanchez and he must be about to get here... So it turns out you are gonna meet him after all... Now you’re just gonna stay put until he comes and takes care of--” Romeo’s voice seemed to fade away as he spoke. Eventually, his mouth stopped moving and he stood frozen with the knife still in his hand. Lena smiled and got back on her feet. She quietly picked up her jacket and belt and put them back on. “So... Long story short baby... I knew what goes on between Sanchez and you... And I know he will pay good money to save his sweet prince from the hands of a mean bounty hunter.” The woman picked up the knife from Romeo’s hand and put it back in its scabbard. Then she continued to speak. “I do have to give you props for making him come all the way here, though! You made my job so much easier... Now we just need to wait.” The woman waved her hand in front of Romeo’s eyes, but the man showed no reaction. “You may have already figured it out but... The handle of the knife is made with this cactus named ‘chollula’. It’s got these tiny toxic spines... It’s truly fascinating, you should look it up. It’s also the reason why I always wear gloves.” The young woman made a big effort to lay the man on the bed. She then picked up the key to the room, walked towards the door and opened it. “I just have to pick something up from my bike, I’ll be right back. You’re gonna stay like that for at least two more hours... And trying to move will only make it hurt more.” Lena looked back at the paralyzed man for an instant. She then turned and slowly walked back towards him. The woman leaned on the bed and whispered in the man’s ear: “We had some good times, didn’t we...” The bounty huntress bit the man’s earlobe and walked towards the door again with a wide smile on her face. The bounty huntress managed to slip out of the joint without being noticed. She gathered various pieces of equipment from her bike and took a good look around the street. Sanchez was nowhere to be seen. She knew that she didn’t have much time before he arrived. It was very likely that Romeo had given the bartender specific instructions about how to act. If so, enough time had passed for him to start worrying, and to lead Sanchez upstairs as soon as he arrived. When the woman went back in she noticed the bartender had come out of his room and was walking around nervously. She sneakily passed behind his back, headed upstairs and locked herself in the room with Romeo. She pulled out the bag with the gear she had picked up and started preparing to welcome Sanchez as fast as she could. Lena was right to make haste. Less than five minutes had passed when she heard someone banging on the door of the cell she was in. The banging came accompanied by the angry voice of a man. “Open up for the mighty Sanchez! You’ve gotten yourself in some deep trouble bitch!” “I don’t respond to goons! Tell Sanchez to step forward and we’ll talk!” yelled Lena from inside the room. The men outside started to speak to each other. From the babble, Lena determined it must have been five or six men that were waiting outside for her, including the bartender. The chatter stopped. Only the footsteps of a heavy man were heard from inside the room. He was approaching the door. A man with a raspy, high pitched voice began to speak. “This is Sanchez. If you have a plan to get out of here alive I suggest you reveal it now. If not I ask you to come out and die. I am a busy man, I’ll be quick.” The man coughed loudly. “I guess I have what you might call a plan... If you consider holding a detonator that would make your boyfriend’s pretty face blow up into a million pieces a plan... Then I do have a plan.” Sanchez sighed. “How much?” “500 rhodium coins. I know that for you that’s just pocket change. Gather it, put it right outside the door and leave the way free for me to come out.” Lena heard the man step back and turn towards his minions. “You heard her boys! Empty your pockets and do as she said!” When the money was ready, Sanchez gave the bounty huntress notice of it and, without further ado, she opened the door. When she did, she revealed that the hooker was tied to the bed. He seemed to be still paralyzed, and he had what appeared to be an explosive charge held with tape in his mouth. Lena was holding the detonator on her left hand high above her head. Her right hand was carrying a revolver. She looked down and saw that the bags of money were already on the floor. Next, she looked up and saw Sanchez surrounded by the barkeep and four other thugs. It wasn’t hard for her to recognize the kingpin. He was by far the bulkiest and tallest of the bunch. While all the others sported long brown trench coats, he wore only a sweaty sleeveless white t-shirt and shorts. He was also displaying a long, thick mustache. The bounty huntress had no doubt that this was the man that had been described to her. “You!” --She pointed at one of the thugs with her gun.-- “You are going to count the money right in front of me... Then you are all going to follow me downstairs, put it in my bike and watch me run away with it... Understood?” They nodded and proceeded to follow her instructions. Everything happened according to plan. Lena got on her chopper with the detonator still in hand and disappeared in seconds. The thugs were left behind. The barkeep looked astonished at the woman that was leaving the scene with more money than he would see in a whole year. Swift as a bullet, Lena left the city and headed west. She stopped at a gas station in which she ordered a room for the night. Neither of the suns would come out until at least 10 hours later, so she had time to rest before her appointment. She couldn’t wait for that job to be over. There wasn’t any reason for it to not go smoothly from now on. The light of the first sun coming through the window woke Lena up. The second would rise soon, and she had to get ready for her meeting. She picked up her knife and her revolver and she stepped outside. She waited for around one hour until she saw two rusty cars pull over. Sanchez and his men had arrived just in time. The fat boss stepped out of his car and walked up to the bounty huntress. She lit up a cigarette, and used it to lit a second, that she offered to Sanchez. He picked it up and leaned against the wall, next to Lena. “Duane... the fucking barkeep...” he said “he can’t mind his fucking business. If he hadn’t followed us everywhere we could have ended the deal right there.” The man took a puff “I’m surprised you didn’t just run off with all my money... That was a smart decision.” “I was paid to do a job, and I’ll take only what was part of the deal.” Lena picked up four bags full of coins from her belt and handed them to the kingpin. “I’ll keep the one hundred coins we agreed on and the satisfaction of a job well done. Did I manage to scare your boyfriend off?” “You did... Everything went just as I planned. I convinced him that being out on the streets would be dangerous for him.” Sanchez looked at Lena. “He’s not a bad guy... He just liked his job too much... He belonged with me and that’s where I want him to stay. I can protect him you know... If we hadn’t faked it this would have happened sooner or later anyway...” Lena smiled. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. We put up a good show for the poor bastard... I hope you two are very happy,” she said while giving her cigarette one last puff. “If you need me again just send your contact back for me, she’ll know how to find me. A pleasure doing business with you.” The bounty huntress threw her cigarette butt on the sand and stepped on it. Then she walked slowly towards her bike and hopped on. “Hey!” yelled Sanchez. Lena turned her head and looked at him. “I don’t remember any pussy licking being a part of the deal!” Lena couldn’t help but laugh. “I didn’t remember anyone forbidding it either!” Sanchez shook his head and smiled, then he went back into one of the cars. Lena started the bike and headed east once more. The young bounty huntress knew she would cross paths with Sanchez again. But she didn’t need anyone else for the time being. As she sped up she felt the liberty that only a bag full of coins and a tank full of gas could bring her. After a long time, she was finally free to chase the horizon once more. THE END -- I wrote this so I could post it here. This is the first time I post a short story! I would really love some feedback. -- My idea is to write a bunch of short stories all based in this same world. -- I would also be very pleased if you could point out mistakes. English is not my first language and I might have slipped a couple of times.


It was an uneventful night when I saw a new woman sitting completely alone in the common room reading. Her brown hair was long and wavy but it wasn’t until she peered up at me that we both realized who the other was. She nearly dropped her book and I almost fell right out of my wheelchair. I tried looking away and pretending that I didn’t just see her for the first time in over fifty years. No use. She was already standing up and walking toward me with her mouth gaping open. “David?!,” she got out. “Is that you?” “It’s me,” I said slightly ashamed. “I can’t believe it..., wow..., this is wild! How long’s it been?” “Since I moved. Many, many years ago.” “It feels like ten lifetimes,” she said smiling. “Are you a resident here?” “Indeed I am. Can I assume you just got here yourself?” “I arrived this morning from the hospital. I fractured my hip last week and my doctor wants me to do some physical therapy before I go back home, he said this was the place to do it.” “I see. I’ve been here for a couple of months myself,” I said, trying to keep my stare focused on her smile and pretend not to notice the tears welling up in her eyes. “David..., it’s so nice to see you again,” she said before wrapping up. “I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about over these next few days.” I suppose it was serendipitous, the two of us ending up at the same nursing home after all these years. It’s true that our hometown was always on the smaller side, so it’s not like there were many options available in the first place. But then I’d moved away after high school. Halfway across the country. I couldn’t bring myself to stay in the state. Not after what happened between her and I. It all hurt too much, passing by the same trees and houses and street corners where we’d made so many memories near as sweethearts. How I ended up back here was a miracle in and of itself. Looking back, I can safely say that reading was always “our thing.” And Milton’s Paradise Lost was “our book.” The book which we bought two copies of together and never finished. We’d take turns reading aloud the poetic lines and then contemplating them for hours on end before picking it back up and starting again. After the arguing began however, we’d go on to pick it up less and less until the dust permanently settled onto its cover. The decision to end everything eventually fell upon my shoulders and my psyche and no matter what I tried to do in ridding myself of the thought, nothing worked. The day finally came where I turned to walk out of the apartment once and for all, leaving her behind in tears, with a broken heart, and with a torn spirit. She went on to marry someone else about a year later. A lawyer, I believe. Not a month has gone by since that fateful decision where I haven’t had some type of dream about the ceremony itself; A beautiful wedding in a broken-down chapel; rays of sunlight still shining through its cracks in the rooftop, impaling the dense air with translucent touches of promised hope that pierce the fog in permanent halves. Beacons from high above all beaming prisms of rich color through the stained glass windows and onto walls half- sprawled with the bright vines of deep green emeralds. She stands center-stage; framed perfection. A magnum opus wrapped in white threads of pure redemption. Untouched skin; restored to life and ever-pampered by real Seraphim who flew down from His side and saved the star-crossed lovers from their eventual suburban fate of celestial disappointment. I’d found true happiness at last through her eternal smile. “Does anyone have any reason...,” the preacher utters the words I’d been dreading to hear as she peers through her peripheral in my general direction. My entire body freezes shut--disabled by well-deserved humility and a forced life of self-imposed silence. Through the veil’s intricate lace; a microscopic image of our entire universe and its timeline starts taking shape as it simultaneously begins unravelling at both ends, gaining exponential purpose within the glistening liquid of reflective teardrops being formed real time inside the bride’s outlined-eyes. Then I wake up. Maybe things would’ve turned out drastically different had we would’ve stayed together. Maybe neither of us would’ve gone on to have the lives which we actually did. Instead we could’ve married each other and had our own kids, gone on our own trips, made our own memories. But we didn’t. That’s not the way it was meant to play out. Or was it? And it was actually I who ruined everything? I had to know for sure. And if so, I had to find some type of forgiveness within it all. Lisa was scheduled to stay a week, two at most, just until her hip had healed up. A couple of months later and she was still pushing me around the hallways in my wheelchair, going to the common room, the crafts room, the library, all the while speaking and sharing memories with me and I with her. Her hip had healed up just fine, but she was intent on spending more time together, so kept asking for extensions and finding reasons to stay a bit longer. Christmas was nearing so I asked a good friend to help find a nice little ring which I could give her as a sign of our reestablished friendship, nothing more. Presenting it to her one night in the common room, I pulled out the small little blue box with a thin velvet bow on top before opening my mouth to speak. “Lisa...,” I said, fumbling to find the right words for my long-awaited speech. “I...” “You don’t have to say a thing. It’s all over and done with. It has been for a long time.” “I know, but still..., all these years..., I’m so sorry for everything, I should’ve never walked out the front door that day.” She quickly looked away and wiped her cheek with her delicate hand before turning back around. “I promised a very long time ago that I’d get you your ring, one way or another.” She opened the box and looked at it for a long time before finally sliding the ring onto her finger and holding out her hand, admiring its shine. “And you did,” she said, smiling. “And I did--even if it took fifty years.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a yellowed Paradise Lost-- her very own copy that we bought so long ago and never finished. “Better late than never,” she said, taking my hand up in hers. “Let’s read.”


A guy walks into a bar, sits down at the counter, and leans over to the guy next to him. “Wanna hear a joke?” “Yeah I guess so.” the stranger replies. “Okay so there’s a truck driver. He wakes up early in the morning, he puts on his uniform and he drives and drives and drives. He does this every single day. He’s the hardest working driver east of the Mississippi. He’s never missed a pickup and his motto is ‘I will never quit, until the job is done.’ Everyday he drives. Never stopping, never late. But one morning the driver spots something ahead of him. He realizes that it’s a man in the middle of the road. The man is clearly suicidal and so the driver thinks he’ll be doing the guy a favor by taking him out. No issue for the driver, he always gets the job done. The problem is, the truck doesn’t actually kill the guy, it just severely wounds him. So the driver gets out, and approaches the man. The man is bleeding and has suffered major damage, but he is still able to speak, and so he says “Oh my god. I’ve had a revelation. When you hit me, my whole life flashed before my eyes. I’ve realized that I’m too young to die. Thank you so much, please help me to a hospital, I have a new lease on life.’ The driver just looks down at the man and says ‘I will never quit, until the job is done.’ He gets back in his truck, starts the engine, and drives ahead, finishing the job. He says ‘Man, these roads are getting bumpy again, someone should really fix that’ and he howls with laughter all the way down the road.” The stranger just looks at the man and says “That was pretty dark. I mean, I guess I see the humor in it, but that wasn’t exactly a joke. You said you’d tell me a joke?” “Oh of course, you’re the kind of person that needs one setup and one punchline huh? Well here, try this one out. I asked myself the other day ‘What the heck is going on around here... the cemeteries are full but people are still dying to get in?” The stranger cackles. “You see that’s a joke right there! Right to the point. Simple. Those I’d be willing to hear more of... you got any more?” “Alright. How ‘bout this one. A man walks down the street smoking a cigarette in a sketchy part of town. A drifter runs up to him from underneath whatever bridge, or box, or tin can he was living under, grabs him and says ‘Please sir, I need shelter and warmth. I’m begging you... I’m dying out here on the street.’ The man politely removes the drifter’s hands from himself and says “Certainly. There has to be room for you in my shed somewhere... I’m sure of it.” The drifter was infinitely grateful and followed the man back to his home. Once they reached the shed the man said ‘Stay out here for just one second while I grab something.’ The drifter agreed. The man came back out with a baseball bat in one hand, a can of gasoline in the other, and the cigarette still flapping from his lips as he said ‘Welp, here we are.’ The drifter asked ‘What are those for?’ The man set the can of gas down on the pavement and then proceeded to strike the drifter in the head with the baseball bat that he carried. With the drifter unconscious on the ground, the man dropped the bat and grabbed the can of gasoline. He then emptied the can onto the dazed drifter. He disposed of the gas can, looked at the drifter and said ‘Give a man a match and he’ll be warm for an hour... but set a man on fire and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life.’ And then he dropped his cigarette.” Stunned, the stranger says “How do you come up with these?” “Art imitates reality.” the man replies. The stranger nervously laughs. “You saying you actually did those things?” “No. But I bet someone has.” he answers. The stranger looks around the bar and notices that it is clearing out. He looks down at his watch. It’s 1:47 AM. He looks back up at the man and says “Hey uh, I kinda gotta get going. The bar’s closing soon anyways.” “Nonsense,” the man says “there’s always time for one more joke. This one is sure to have you rolling on the floor. I promise.” “Alright. One more joke, but then I literally have to go. My wife will kill me.” “Okay, okay, okay. So a guy walks into a bar, sits down at the counter, and leans over to the guy next to him. He says ‘Wanna hear a joke?’ The guy says ‘Yeah I guess so.’ The man replies ‘Okay so there’s a truck driver. He wakes up earl-” “Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing here?” the stranger asks. “What? I’m just trying to finish my joke.” the man retorts. The stranger looks at the man’s jacket. Gibson Trucking Company The man begins to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He stares directly into the stranger’s eyes. “You smoke?” He says, offering one of the small white cylinders to the stranger. The stranger starts to feel tiny droplets of perspiration form around his forehead. “Uh, no thanks. I just quit actually.” He looks around again. They’re the last two customers in the bar, and the bartender had just walked back into the kitchen to finish sweeping. The stranger is starting to feel yesterday’s lunch gurgling in his stomach by now. “Can we get to the punchline already?” he asks anxiously. “Punchlines, punchlines, punchlines... that’s all I hear out of you. You really want this joke to end?” “Please.” begs the stranger. “Alright, well, short and simple... the guy walks into the bar, he tells the stranger a few jokes, and then he stabs him.” “Wait no, wait, wai-” The man finishes the punchline. The stranger crashes to the floor as the man stands there giggling. A police officer enters through the barroom door. He says “Hey Joe, I know it’s almost closing t-” He sees the mess that lay before him. The man stops laughing. “Freeze,” exclaims the officer as he pulls out his pistol, “put your hands where I can see them!” The man looks back at the stranger on the ground. “Oh my lord.” the man chuckles “The irony. I bet you wish the joke had lasted just a little longer? If you hadn’t been so obsessed with that punchline, this guy coulda saved ya.” He lets out a shriek of hilarity. “The irony!” The man falls to the ground in a fit of laughter. “Drop the knife chuckle face!” the policeman screams. “No, no. You don’t get how perfect this is! The joke is finally on me, and yet there will never be a punchline!” the man shouts. “I’m coming closer, and I’m gonna cuff you. If you do not drop the knife, I will be forced to shoot.” The man slowly rises back to his feet, still seizing with laughter. “A cop walks into a bar and a man charges at him with a knife” he says. “The man knows what comes next but he finds it all pretty funny.” The man charges at the officer. A guy walks into a bar. A body gets dragged out of it.


Mother Nature Has Different Plans By Kerri Shanley It was the year Mother Nature was confused. Hades was holding Persephone longer than the agreed-upon terms, causing winter to go on longer than usual. The gray days of December and January extended into April and May. When June rolled around the weather started to warm up, but not much, like the mild breezy spring weather. Masey Higgins went to a college in Utah, not too far away from where the famous people hang out during the film festivals. Masey took a weekend job at one of the resorts so she could get free lift passes. The resorts were happy about the extended ski season, but Masey was growing weary of the long winter. The weekends were still busy with local skiers and snowboarders, even some of the celebrities would still make their way to Utah for a mini getaway. Most of the college students went home in the summer to work and save up for the fall, however, this summer Masey decided she could make more money working extra hours at the resort and decided to stay behind. “Hey, at least we get to spend more time together,” Steve winked at Masey. Masey smiled back and gave an awkward chuckle. She had a crush on Steve for a long time but questioned his intentions. He was a major flirt. “Yeah, just me and you working the guest services counter.” There was a lull in the clubhouse Masey leaned over the counter tapping her pen, while Steve was leaning back in his chair looking up at the ceiling “you know we’ve worked together for the past two years.” “Yes. We were hired at the same time,” Masey responded, “What’s your point?” “Well, we’ve spent a lot of time together, and we barely know anything about each other.” “Well, usually we’re both working and don’t really have time to ‘get to know each other.’’ “Let’s remedy that,” Steve responded. Masey was concerned that he might have ulterior motives behind getting to know her. There was an opening in management, and he seemed highly motivated to get ahead. “I guess. What do you want to know?” “That’s no fun. Let’s play a game.” Masey let out an exasperated sigh “I don’t know we could get into trouble.” “You’re so cute when you worry about your job,” Steve tapped her nose. Masey smiled a little, and their eyes lingered for a bit until Steve broke the gaze “Darts!” “What?” Masey stepped back a little and tucked her hair behind her ear. “We can play a dart game.” Steve grabbed her hands and pulled her into the recreational room, “Since we work here, we don’t have to worry about paying. Masey was bewildered by his comment, “Ok?” “So, here’s how we play. If I hit the center, you tell me one thing about you. It can be anything you want” “And if I hit the center you tell me one thing about you” Masey added. Steve shook his head and continued “But, if you hit anywhere on the board you tell me about the worst date you’ve been on.” A little shiver crept up Masey’s spine “I don’t want to do that.” “Well then, you better hit the center. Now, if you completely miss the target, you have to take a sip of hot chocolate,” Steve smiled wide. Masey’s eyes brightened, Masey was horrible at darts, but she loved hot chocolate, “All right. I go first!” She picked a dart out of Steve’s hand and threw it haphazardly at the wall. It stuck in the cork wall a few inches away from the target. “Give me that hot chocolate.” Steve handed her the mug she took a sip, “You have a whip cream stache.” He wiped it off with his thumb. “Thanks. Your turn.” “Ok.” Steve turned towards the dartboard and stuck out his hand. He concentrated on the target. He released it and it landed outside the center. “Well, I guess I gotta tell you about my worst date.” “Yep,” Masey responded taking another sip of hot chocolate. “A year-long relationship had ended, and I bummed around the apartment for several weeks. My roommate John decided to set me up with a girl from one of his classes. She was cute, but I still was hung up on my ex. So, I was an emotional wreck. “Really? You? An emotional wreck?” “Yes. Guys have emotions too,” he smirked. “Anyways, all I could do was talk about this other girl. About an hour in she asked to go home, when we got to the front of her apartment, she told me not to walk her to the door, or to call her. She jumped out and slammed the door, hard. It shook the whole car.” Steve looked away while Masey listened sympathetically. “Wow. That was harsh.” “Well, I guess I deserved it.” Masey frowned, “No, you didn’t. I understand wanting to leave early, but she could have been a little nicer and told you to call her when you got over your ex.” Steve’s eyes gleamed, “Thanks. It was really hard for the first couple of months after the breakup. But I moved on.” Masey nodded and took another sip of the hot chocolate, “Hey you’re not supposed to drink the hot chocolate.” Masey almost choked on the hot chocolate and put the mug down “Sorry. It tastes so good.” Steve chuckled. “So, what happened between you and your ex. I mean why’d you break up.” “Nope. If you wanna know that you have to hit the center.” He told her handing a dart to her. “Fine.” Masey grabbed it out of his hand, “Here I go. I’m gonna hit the center.” She said focusing on the center of the dartboard she did a few fake throws “When I hit the center you have to tell me why you broke up with your ex.” She stalled. Masey concentrated intensely, when she was ready to release, Steve walked up beside her and blew in her ear. She was thrown off and missed the target. “Well, at least you hit the board this time,” Steve laughed. “Not fair! I get to go again.” Masey reached for a dart “Nuh-uh,” Steve put his arm behind his back so Masey couldn’t reach them “You have to tell me about your worse date.” “Fine. Let me think.” Masey took a minute. It wasn’t a matter of recall, but which horrible date story to tell. Steve sat down on a stool and crossed his arms. He waited patiently. “Ok. Got it. I recently went on a date with a guy from my French class. He was pretty cute and good at French. We decided to study together and reserved a study room at the library. After a couple of study sessions, he asked me out. He took me to an Italian restaurant.” Steve avidly listened, so Masey started to relax. “I saw him slip the hostess some money, and I thought it was to get a good table with some privacy. I just assumed he wanted to show off how much money he had.” Steve didn’t blink, or yawn, nor did anything else. Masey was impressed with his laser focus attention. She was still a little apprehensive, she wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t trust Steve or if it was rehashing the memory of that miserable night. “The guy already sounds douchey.” Masey laughed “Yeah, you haven’t heard the worst part yet. So, when the server came to take us our drink order she looked really mad. She didn’t yell but raised her voice just a little bit ‘I thought I told you to stop coming here with your dates.’ I was so confused.” Steve looked shocked. “He didn’t?” “Yep. He took me to the restaurant where his ex-girlfriend worked and asked to sit in her section.” “Well, if I wanted to make my ex jealous, I would show you off.” Masey blushed, “Yeah right.” “No. Really. I mean it” Steve stroked her cheek. Masey shivered “It’s cold in here.” She backed away. Steve looked slightly confused. “Here.” Steve took off his jacket and put it around her. “Thanks. Well. It’s your turn.” Steve hit the center this time. “Oh-oh, you have to tell me something about yourself.” Masey was shocked and dismayed “Fine. I’m from California. There.” “Nope. I already knew that. Tell me something I don’t know.” “That’s not fair. That’s not the rule,” Masey whined. “You have to tell me something I don’t know about you.” “Uugh! Fine. So, you know that guy from my French class?” “The douche.” “Yeah. Well, I ran into his ex-girlfriend a couple days later, and she apologized for what happened. She told me about their relationship, and why they broke up. So, she saved me from a fate worse than death.” “So why did they break up?” “Oh. Well, he seemed to rush things, and after 3 dates he asked her to marry him.” “No way?” “Yep. According to her, his parents got engaged after three dates. He was so oblivious to her feelings and was just so set on getting married. Which was weird for her.” Steve laughed and Masey started to feel more comfortable around him. “He even bought a ring. When he got down on his knee, she kinda lost it and told him she needed some space. She went out with him one more time, just to see if he had gotten it out of his system. But it was just weird. He started to get really obsessed with her. He felt like she was ‘the one’ and thought that he could win her back by making her jealous.” “Well, obviously it didn’t work.” “Haha. No. I guess not.” They both stopped laughing, and Steve continued to give his undivided attention to Masey. Masey broke the silence. “My turn. I’m gonna hit the center, so you have to tell me about your ex.” “If you say so.” “No cheating.” “Fine.” Steve backed away. Masey threw the dart and it hit off-center. “Aw man.” “You have to tell me about another bad date.” “Fine,” she gave him the death stare. “So one time I dated a guy that had a pet hamster. He hid it in his pocket. We went to a soup and salad restaurant. When we sat down to eat, he let the hamster out and gave him some of his salad. He actually asked if the hamster could eat some of my food. The manager asked us to leave. I called my roommate to come pick me up. He still doesn’t understand why I didn’t go out for a second date.” Steve laughed really hard. “Ok. OK. Just go.” Steve purposely missed the target “Oh man.” He faked feeling bummed out. “Here. Drink.” “No. I think you’ve suffered enough. I’ll tell you what happened between me and my ex.” After Steve finished his story, Masey apologized, “I’m sorry. That really sucks.” Steve nodded “It’s ok. I mean life happens. The weather was bad. You can’t control nature.” “No. I guess not,” Masey bit the inside of her cheek. “So how long ago did this happen.” He sighed before answering. “After Christmas. She was coming back from break.” “Wow! I didn’t realize. That explains why you took the time off back in January and February.” He nodded. “You know, we were talking about the next step--“ “You mean getting engaged?” “Yeah. When we spoke over the break. I got the feeling that she wanted to break up. Before she went home we looked at rings, but didn’t settle on anything.” “You know I never liked that. Ring shopping together. I think it’s so stupid.” Steve kept his head bowed but looked up, “You’re old fashioned, huh?” “I mean, yeah. It should be a surprise. From the guy’s heart. You know. Like he gets the ring that he can afford and that he feels is the ‘right’ one for his future wife. I sometimes feel like it makes the girl look snobby.” “You know, coming back to work really helped me get over her.” Steve got up and started to walk over to Masey. “Really. Well, they say that the only way to get over a lost love is to pour yourself into work.” “No that’s not why.” He wrapped his arms around Masey. She was taken aback, and before she had a moment to process what was about to happen, he leaned in to give her a kiss. She melted into his arms and let go of her inhibitions. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled away first, and Masey swayed [swooned] a little. “The reason I came back was because of you. Masey looked confused. “What? How? I didn’t even know you were in a relationship, let alone that she died." “I know. It was nice because you treated me normal. Everyone looked at me with pity. Like I was going to break down any minute.” “You were always flirting with everyone.” “No. I was working. I was getting tips from the customers.” “We can do that?” “There’s no company policy that says we can’t. I only flirted with you.” Masey furrowed her brow. “Even when I was with my girlfriend, I had feelings for you, but I pushed them aside because I felt like I owed it to my relationship with her. I never got vibes that you liked me, so I didn’t pursue anything.” “So, you went after an easy target.” Steve chuckled, Masey realized what she had said, “No pun intended.” “No, I get it. It wasn’t easy. She returned my advances.” “What?” “You were the hard target. We’d known each other for so long, that I thought it would happen naturally, but you didn’t give any signals. Lisa showed interest. We got along. We were compatible enough. But I guess she picked up on my lack of commitment.” “Typical.” “What? I couldn’t commit because I had feelings for you. They never went away.” He grabbed her cheeks. A flurry of butterflies started up her throat. “We work together.” “That’s where the best love stories start. You know Pam and Jim?” Masey laughed. She didn’t want to talk anymore. She just wanted to hear Steve tell her his feelings. She felt like she would ruin the moment. “That’s why Lisa seemed so cold and distant over the break. The last time we spoke on the phone we got into a fight. I took the time off because I thought I needed time to heal, but I started to realize that I missed you. My roommate thought my moping around was over Lisa. It was a combination of both. I mean I had feelings for her and was about to marry her, but you know the stages of grief. Well, I got to acceptance pretty fast, I maybe skipped some stages, but it was because I came to terms with my feelings for you.” “I’m glad winter lasted through June. Those 2 months I took off were miserable, but I think Mother Nature extended the winter season so we could spend more time together.” He leaned in for another kiss, “Yeah. I’m glad we got to spend this time together.” Outside the bar, the manager called for Steve and Masey. “We better go see what he needs.” Masey sighed and opened her eyes “Yeah. I guess.” “There you two are. The guests are coming back from the slopes you need to be at the desk to assist them.” “Yes sir.” They said together. They both looked at one another and laughed. “I don’t know what’s going on here but cut it out.” The manager left them alone and they continued to laugh. “Hey look, it’s snowing!” “Snow in June,” Masey looked over at Steve “Mother Nature has something else in store for us.” Steve wrapped his arm around Masey. Yes, Mother Nature had different plans for them, indeed.


I took a step off the ledge of the office building and let the wind, and then the warm concrete, embrace me. And upon impact, it was silent void--black and sensationless, the feeling of legs and the sounds of cars driving past entirely absent--but my dwindling consciousness, hanging by a thread, remained. When the weak, grizzly voice of an older man grew from behind me, my thoughts, already incomprehensibly fuzzy and confused, turned into a panicked frenzy. But there was no jolt down my spine, or increase in heartbeat. I had no body to feel surprised with. His voice, thick and tinged with a hint of New York Jew, felt distantly familiar. “You’re not supposed to be here, and you know it.” It took me a second to gather myself together again, but I discovered that upon thinking the words, *Turn around*, it was only a moment before I was looking into the eyes of a short, stubbled man with a beer belly and a hairline that could only be the product of age. “I’m sorry?” He removed a wide, beefy hand from the pockets of his khakis and smoothed out the bright, button-down hawaiian shirt he wore. Slowly, he took a step through the emptiness in my direction. The way he stroked his chin echoed nonchalance and he repeated calmly, “You’re not supposed to be here. You know that, and I know you know that.” “Do I know you?” “No. I’m nobody. Don’t think about that. If you really screwed up this bad, then your consciousness is probably falling away, and you might find that it’s getting harder and harder to remember things like the name of your wife--” “I don’t have a wife.” “Yes, you do--things like the name of your wife, where you work, where you were born, et cetera. So don’t waste time thinking about who I am. You made a mistake.” I found it difficult to believe, but I took a brief moment before speaking again to try to remember my supposed wife. In my mind, as if recalling an old framed photo that had sunken into the forgettable white noise and static of my bedroom, I blew off the dust and recalled the vague shape of an early middle-aged woman--maybe mid-30s--with hair that, though hazy, was clearly brown. She had no name and in my mind’s eye, she had a variety of different eye colors, none of them sticking quite right. “That’s Elise,” he told me. *Elise.* God, she was beautiful. “Yes. She is,” he continued. “But tell me, why did you do that? What the hell made you think it was a good idea to take a running jump off a five-story office building?” Stupidly, I paused before speaking. The English language was slipping through my fingers like sand, and with whatever faculty of speech I had left, I spoke. “Life was bad. It was evil. I was being beat up over and over. The universe was mean to me and I was tired of it. I just wanted this. I wanted this feeling.” “Describe the feeling, Caleb. Keep that language side of your brain active. At all costs. Do you understand me? Describe the sensation.” “Calm. I feel calm. Quiet. Big quiet. Small noise. No sound. No feeling.” “*Bigger than that, Caleb,*” the man said, his tone getting more intense. He took his other hand out of the pockets of his khakis, and the flowers on his Hawaiian shirt wrinkled as he raised his arm and snapped rapidly, “Use bigger words! Don’t just say the feeling, *make me feel the sensation!* Do you understand me?” Even in death--or whatever this was--I still felt the rising pressure coming from this short man. As my mind strayed away into oblivion, I clung to what I could and frantically stuttered what few descriptive words came to mind. “Sad but happy--happysad,” I stumbled. “*No*\--not happy. No, no, I feel--*elated*.” “*Excellent*," he hissed. "What’s your wife’s name?” He was barely giving me time to think, but the answers were starting to come more naturally. “Elise. Her name is Elise. I feel like I’m trudging through a warm lake. It’s a summer’s evening and I feel secure, and there’s no risk of me drowning. It feels good.” “*No, not ‘good!’ Tell me more!*” Like an olympic runner in the last lap, with a final burst of mental adrenaline, I felt language, familiar and beautiful, flood my thoughts again. “It feels relaxing and transcendent, like all the work of the philosophers in eons’ past, the consideration of what death means and the never-ending questions of what comes after it are about to be momentarily answered. The coming moment is the oxymoronic crux of existence in which we miraculously lose everything but find ourselves with knowledge the likes of which none have ever known. I’m oblivious to problems and the sensation brings a quiet, droning tinge of regret because I miss--*Elise!*\--but the anticipation is over and I’m soon to know what it means for a story to end. I remove myself from the hurricane that surrounds me and find myself in the eye of the storm, where everything is peace and I no longer need to question the world.” In the following few seconds of silence, in the absence of a body and the blood to course through it, anxiety ran quick through my veins. The man stood silently, and I wondered if he would disappear soon, if this was it, and I was nearly onto the “next life.” Slowly, began crossing his arms while a wide, smug grin crawled across his face. “They’re saving you.” “What?” “You could only speak like that if there were somebody there, next to you, saving you. They might be using defibrillators or any other sort of thing, but Caleb, I think you’ll be on your way soon. So tell me, how do you feel?” Knowing that I finally had the English language at my disposal once again, I allowed myself a few moments to consider his question before answering. “Devastatingly defeated.” “You shouldn’t. There’s more to this than you think. The life you lead is a sad and difficult one, and nobody could deny that, but at the end of the day, all of this is in your control.” The man looked down at his watch. “I’m betting you’ll be back in a couple minutes or so. Be ready, though, kid. It’s going to hurt. A lot. Remember, you’ve just jumped off a building.” “I don’t want to go back.” “I know you don’t. Nobody ever does.” “There are more like me?” It didn’t take long for the stupidity of the question to smash me like a brick. I didn’t need an answer. How in hell could I be the only one? “Of course there are more like you,” he scoffed. And he was right to do so. “You think you’re the first to try to kill yourself? It’s a mistake, but it’s an easy mistake to make.” He was right. It was unfair to believe that I was the only human tempted by the ledge of an office building. No doubt that there were alternatives elsewhere. People jumped off of cliffs, buildings, out of helicopters. People found ways. Where there was a ledge there was a temptation that, more often than I might have thought, was just strong enough to prompt action. But that wasn’t fair. Why should others succeed--should get that relief--and not me? Why do some succeed, and I’m forced to go back? The sensation of death was addicting, and at least according to the man, in mere moments, it was going to be forcibly taken from me. The man in the hawaiian shirt apparently detected my rising frustration. “Kid,” he said with a tired sigh, “you gotta understand that it’s *good* that you’re being saved. Your time hasn’t come yet.” I still stood in silence. I didn’t know what else to do. There was nowhere to go, and there was nothing to feel. My consciousness remained in full strength but my body was a ghost. I had never realized until then just how unpleasant the sensation of having a body was. Arms, legs, aching back, having problems or stressors, all those sensations were just upsetting, distant memories. I imagined the paramedics kneeling next to my mangled body on the concrete outside the office, speaking quickly and mechanically into their walkie-talkies, knees stained with blood, frantically stitching my broken self back together. It was funny to see them caring so much about a body. It was just a body, after all. The man continued. “You don’t think it, but you’ve still got more living to do. I know. Trust me. You’ve still got a lot more to go.” He paused, and his grin faltered. His voice, with its cigarette-stained rasp, lowered to a whisper with a tone as soft as velvet. “Elise would miss you, you know.” The gentleness, as much as it ached with honesty, somehow felt crooked on a voice that had so much fallen victim to drinking, smoking, and old age. It was a few moments before I could word what I was thinking, but when I could, the words clicked like a missing puzzle piece. “If I’m going to be forced to continue living, I refuse to let it be for the sole purpose of making *other* people happy.” In the time it took me to speak, we mirrored one another. His face contorted with surprise as the words washed over him, and I held myself back from giving a triumphant “Hmph!” But it was true. I’d got him. He gathered his thoughts and opened his mouth, hesitating for a moment, and then launching into his exasperated response. “Caleb, that’s what life is. People live for *you*. It’s a responsibility. Without other people in our lives, we’d all off ourselves. We rely on one another.” I almost interrupted him, but he didn’t give me the chance. “Don’t worry, kid, I’m not gonna try to shove some false-optimistic bullshit down your throat about how life is beautiful. Life is hell, and it’s always unfair, whether it’s unfair in your favor or in somebody else’s. But it’s a whole lot better with other people in it. We’re all in this perfect gridlock where we each have to stay alive for each other to make life more bearable. But at the core, I guess you’re right, it’s a system that’s a bit screwed up. But hey,” he said with a weak chuckle, “if you’ve got a better alternative, you go on ahead and make me the first to know.” It was a minute or two before I responded. My mind was running at full speed, and I knew that if the blood was pumping through so much of my brain already, it wouldn’t be long before I regained complete consciousness and I awoke at the foot of the office, my life officially unpaused. But I took my precious time. This was a conversation that was not going to be rushed, even if that meant cutting it short. “Why are you trying to talk me out of this and everything if life isn’t anything more than some sort of ‘hellish gridlock’?” “Because I want to know you’re making an educated decision. Maybe you’ll wake up and find that life really is hell. That it doesn’t get better, that Elise is mediocre at best, that your future children don’t deserve to live, that, I don't know, *chocolate* isn’t worth living for. And if that’s the case, then shoot. By all means. Jump off an office building. Leap in front of a moving train. Drive off a cliff, for all I care. But if you’re doing it, you oughta know *what* it is that you’re doing. Now you have an idea of what dying is like, and more importantly, at least I sure hope, you’ve got an idea of why you should live. You *do* live for other people, Caleb. It’s a bear and a burden and a difficult responsibility, but they’re doing the same thing for you. Remember, they’ve thought about jumping off a ledge somewhere else before, too, and when they considered it, they thought of you and pictured tears running down your cheeks at their funeral. You do it for them, they do it for you. So yeah, it’s maybe a bit hellish. But there are a lot of great parts to it, too. “Think hard, Caleb, about Elise. Remember when you met?” I didn’t need to jog my memory anymore. The image of the two of us on the footbridge was brought forth with ease and efficiency. “Brooklyn. 1992. On the bridge, when we both saw the spare change in the stream and both tried to get there first.” I tried to resist, but my lips involuntarily curved upward just a bit. “That was a good time. Did you wanna die on that bridge?” “I see where you’re going with this.” “Sure you do. But am I wrong? Again, feel free to shove a shotgun in your mouth when you get back, but make it an educated decision. Think of the bridge. Think of Elise’s eyes.” The image came easily and at my command: her eyes were a glistening auburn brown. “And ask yourself, did you wanna die at that moment? If not, then kid, you've just proven to yourself that there's stuff in life that's worth living for, that's bearable. And then, once you’ve thought about all of that, fine. Fine. At that point, it’s outta my control. You make your choice. Go on ahead and off yourself however you want to, if you really think that's the right choice, all things considered. I mean it." The words slowly sank into me. Whether they were warm water or scorching flames, I couldn't quite discern. Maybe it was a bit of both. It was then that pain--fierce, fiery pain--pierced through me with a vengeance, as if life were trying to make up for the pain I had missed while in the void without a body. I had allowed myself to, even for just a moment, experience the bliss of not knowing what it meant to have a physicality. And it was all coming back, whether I liked it or not. The pain crashed over me like a waterfall, coming in thick, aching waves. "You're coming back, kid. Good luck out there. I know it's tough. It's a real bear, like I said. And don't worry, you'll come back soon enough. Just give it a few years and you'll die eventually. Just be patient, okay?" I hissed through gritted teeth as my body was reborn, bit by bit, stab by stab. "*Who the hell are you?*" His voice echoed faintly around me, getting farther and farther away with each syllable. "Don't worry about it." As his shape faded away, it was replaced by blinding light, and as if careening uncontrollably through a narrow tunnel, the burning, aching pain only booming louder in my ears, I felt warm concrete underneath me. More importantly, I *felt.* My eyes blinked open to autumn trees above me and the sidewalk below me, the blood already forming a sticky film on my skin. Three paramedics knelt over my body, beaming with wide, searching eyes like spotlights, the defibrillator lying on the concrete next to me. Stunned that I wasn’t a lost cause, it was only a moment before they began frantically shouting, gathering together mysterious tools and tinkering with my body, right there on the concrete, like a mechanic working rapidly on a customer’s car when there was another customer waiting in line. My blood served as the engine oil on their knees--a badge to wear, boasting of a hard day’s work. The pain had swallowed me whole and dissolved into a numb, tingly TV static, and as I faded in and out of consciousness and witnessed the paramedics above me flicker into and out of existence, rage filled me and made my heart sore. A rage that entered unwelcome and would fester silently over the next two weeks in the hospital, and hibernate into a thick, viscous disdain for the doctors that stole death from me. It was only when Elise was finally allowed to see me that the aching of fermented anger began to fall away in small clumps. The paramedics, with an incomprehensible yell, handed the man kneeling closest to my head a syringe. I felt pressure on my arm, and the paramedics, still flickering in and out of view, after some deliberation, finally came to a solid conclusion and flickered into decisive nonexistence. I found myself in a hospital bed, hearing the A/C whir, feeling the cold air on the few parts of my skin not hidden by a cast, and remembering Elise’s face. It was 15 days later while I was lying in my cast on the hospital bed, two doctors standing on either side monitoring me like guards, that she cautiously peeked her head around the corner, flowers in her hands. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor quickened and I relished in my ability to look at her face and see that, for the past couple weeks, my memory had been astoundingly accurate--down to the shape of her eyebrows, the exact hue of her hair, and the way her eyes squinted when she smiled. Many years ago, young love gave us thrill because it was risky at the time, and when things teetered on edges, the passion grew tenfold. In that sanitized, white hospital room, we were floating on a bridge back in Brooklyn in 1992 and we were filled with the naive longing of young love. It was a fire that had burnt itself away years ago, but something about the temporary loss of life stoked the flames again, and I think we both knew somewhere that it wouldn’t last and that after this, there would be a wall. But good feelings are addicting and when love presented itself to us, we both greedily took our share and relished in it unthinkingly. When the adrenaline of risk wore off, we were different, but not altogether worse. We still loved each other, but she was scared of losing me, and I was scared of staying. I knew I’d be back in the void soon enough, and she knew that I knew that. And on my end, there was a newfound peace that I attributed to the man in the Hawaiian shirt. She never liked that, and she had asked me more than a few times in superficially playful conversation what it had been like to be dead. And I always told her the same thing. “It was warm. Relaxing and transcendent. Enlightening.” And she would change it up occasionally, sometimes mocking me for sounding like Buddha, sometimes mocking me for sounding like Jesus. For months, I never brought up the man in the Hawaiian shirt after I mentioned it to a doctor the day I woke up and was told that it was a form of mid-mortem hallucination. It was five months later, visiting my family in Vermont, that I finally spoke about it with my mother. We sat on the end of my old childhood bed, smaller, springier, and more welcoming than I remembered. She nodded along patiently, staring off into the orange late-autumn forest wallpaper and allowing the story to marinate in the tense air before inhaling it and truly processing it. She didn’t say a word. I went on for as long as I needed to, describing in detail the man’s shirt, the way he spoke, and what he told me. Why I was still alive, and why I was going to continue on living for her, for Elise, for dad. My words left a heaviness and a depth hanging over the room that slowly, my mother’s ears absorbed like sponges. I finished, and we sat in silence. Admiring the familiar autumn wallpaper, I imagined the sound of the vibrant leaves rustling through the air as they floated to the forest floor and waited for the first frost, signalling the new season. The aged bed creaked as she, without a word, cleared her throat and pulled her purse onto her lap. Tenderly, she reached in and removed from its contents a small photograph of the man with the Hawaiian shirt and the khakis I’d seen in the void. She cleared her throat. Her speech didn’t waver, but it remained low as if the gravity of what she was saying pulled it closer to the earth. “I found this photo in the attic a couple months ago. I’ve been keeping it on me for good luck. It’s my grandfather. Your great-grandfather. Elias.” I had never met him, but the name rang a distant bell. Great-grandpa Elias. I’d seen a couple old black and white photos of him, but nothing substantive enough to stick his face in the banks of my memory. “Are you sure this is who you saw?” It wasn’t only the face that made me sure. It was the posture. The way he carried himself. In a black and white photo, a moment frozen in time, his sly, toothy smile and his finger, bony and pointing at the photographer, were dynamic. Without moving, his character seemed alive and well in that moment, moving along as if he were still breathing, drinking, smoking, going about his life. I assured her that this was him. She nodded slowly. “Maybe it was something subconscious. I don’t think I’ve ever shown you this photo. I hadn’t even found it until relatively recently. But, I don’t know, maybe you saw it a long time ago somehow, and maybe it was a hallucination, like you said the doctor said.” She paused, sopping up every detail of her grandfather’s face in the photo. Elias’ smile was infectious. “You know, at Elias’ funeral, years before you were even on the way, we made a lot of jokes about that ostentatious, loud personality of his and about how he was probably up above us somewhere, laughing his raspy, breathless laugh, and probably feeling a little bit left out. It really was all just jokes, I think, meant to help us all cope. Y’know. You say what you have to to deal with people dying. But I’ve sometimes wondered if he really was up there, watching us, listening in. If he was there, in the room, when you were born. I don’t know.” She paused. “I don’t know. But maybe.” She thoughtfully put her arm around me, and after a few minutes of warm, pensive silence and admiring the autumn wallpaper, we descended the staircase, put on smiles, and joined the family again. I approached Elise with the brown hair and the memorable glistening brown eyes, hugged her, loved her, and patiently awaited the day I’d be seeing the void again.


"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to.." The Chairman paused. "Nah, fuck all that. Who's ready to get hunted?!" He growled with a smirk. The room was quiet in judgment, wondering what he was talking about. He stood up straight and adjusted his tie. "Let me rephrase that." He held out for another long pause. "As you know humanity has developed drastically in the world of medicine. You, a group in your thirties have basically only lived a fifth of your life span . Before such advancements, a fifth of your life would basically make you young adults, practically teens and babies. Fresh meat one might say!" The intensity and bass of his voice echoed through the room like thunder right in the ear drum as he paced back and forth. "Anyways, you're far too young to become another casualty in the impending doom the sun wishes to grant us in the next decade or so. So I have proposition for you. A new planet has been discovered, almost parallel to ours but thriving much more fruitfully. Just outside of this galaxy, its being called The Haven and with such a fitting name only the best, brightest, strongest and most fitting candidates shall inhabit it. Will that be you or will you become a pillar to hold up the new world for a much more fitting species? Humanity, but better." "What type of utopia bullshit is this?" "Is he drunk?" "He's got to be psychotic." The tones and whispers of denial rushed the room like a broken aquarium spilling over. "Listen!" The lights turned off in an instant. The room was illuminated by a single source, coming from a giant screen behind him. He stepped to the side revealing a video of a planet. Bright blue and green images flashed across the faces of the clueless audience. Their eyes reflecting the images of clear oceans, grass fields for hundreds of miles and waves of forest and desert lands. It looked exactly like their planet but, untouched. Untainted. Pure. A vast world of opportunity and prosperity. "Now in order for you to be able to come here, you must acquire a ticket aboard The Sanctum, the space craft built for the journey. As well as taking an exam in order to understand the mind and body to determine if you are eligible for The Haven." The room was as such of a dark forest, silent, calm, waiting for the next hint of movement. All eyes were locked onto The Chairman like a deer in headlights. "Do you think it's real?" "I want to go swimming there!" "That land looks so ripe for farming my tomatoes." Whispers of curiosity began to fill the air like smoke. "How much is a ticket?" "I'm so going to get an amazing tan out there." "Tomatoes!" People began to think of the possibilities that a new planet and a new life could bring them. "Wait, did he say an exam?" "I was never good with problem solving!" "I dropped out to be a farmer, this isn't fair!" "Do not fret. It is not a written exam but one I have cultivated and designed specifically for this purpose." A few sighs of relief were heard through the room. "Here we go." The screen changed once more with a page of writing. "Candidates will be split into two teams." The Chairman read out. "The Hunters and The Hunted. As the teams suggest one team will be hunting while the other team must survive. Every member of The Hunted team will be given a specific amount of money for their head. If they are captured or killed only The Hunter responsible will gain that bounty only towards their admission aboard the Sanctum. The bounties of The Hunted will remain unknown until the conclusion of the exam. The Hunted, however, are guaranteed admission to The Sanctum as well as a job befitting their skills and abilities once they arrive to their home on The Haven. Each side will also have a king that holds a certain power over the game. All candidates will be released in a random part of the playing field with a map of the area that may also show possible spawn locations housing utilities, gear, weapons and or supplies. Furthermore, there will be tokens to find throughout the island that may also acquire you some aid and or monetary value during or at the end of the competition. Food will be available at said locations but you may also acquire some yourself from the jungle. If you have not decided in the voting booth by 7pm tonight you will be appointed a side. Also, if one side is full before you decide you will automatically put on the other team. I call it Kynigi! Let's all have a great life at The Haven!" "What is this?" A voice said shakily. "Who would join such a savage event?" She questioned out loud. As she looked around she could see the faces of everyone in the room change. Most were scared, worried that they may not be able to survive such a challenge. Some were joyful, excited for life on a new planet with endless possibilities. A few of them were ecstatic, their eyes glowed with bloodlust excited to have some fun and freedom before starting a new life. Her knees began to buckle with fear and she collapsed to the ground. "Are you alright?" A gentle tone asked. She lifted her head slightly to see an arm extended out in front of her, she was helped back to her feet and met eyes with a man not much older than herself. "Thank you" she said embarrassed. She looked forward at his tie to avoid the awkward eye contact. "I know, it's a lot to take in, isn't it?" He asked, stopping her from turning to walk away. He looked back up at the screen and smiled. "It's a Greek word. Intimidating I'm sure. I think it's an easy decision though if you ask me. But as you look around everyone else can't seem to decide. " she looks at him puzzled and still scared. "Well what would you choose?" He turned to her. "Well, hunter seems like the safest option. Especially for a a chubbier person like me." she stuttered. He looked at her confused for a second but moved on. "You would think, right? But look at the screen. 'Only the hunter responsible. Each side has a king. We will be released at random parts of the playing field. Tokens. Monetary Value. Aid.' None of that sounds like a team game. Hunters have to earn their money to get on the ship while Hunted are guaranteed a spot? Without knowing the bounties on our heads, that's just asking for the hunters to turn on each other first to lessen the competition." He gave her a gentle smile and made his way to the voting booth. The screen flashed red with the number one indicating the first player on a team. "Our?" She whispered to herself. Seven o'clock rolled around and the screen had finally flashed green indicating everyone present at the event has made their decision. The screen read 12-3-9. "Well, that's not pleasant. I hate odd numbers." The Chairman whined. "Jada!" He yelled prompting one of the servants to his table. He grabbed her by the back of her neck and stood up aggressively. "She will be joining The Hunted! That will make it twelve Hunters, ten Hunted and three dropout bitches." He whispered in her ear, "don't disappoint me now, Jada," then threw her into the crowd of players. Quickly the man from before leaped forward and caught her before she could smash her forehead on one of the tables. He glared up at The Chairman as he peered at the player and servant down the thick bridge of his nose. "Oh? What is your name and age?" He asked in a condescending tone. "Anax, 24." He replied just as cocky still holding the servant. The Chairman laughed hysterically. "Greek?" He asked. Anax did not reply or react to the question. He helped the servant to her feet with a smile, wiped off some dirt and grime from her skirt and made his way out of the main room. "It is now 7 o'clock in the evening and we shall commence the competition in roughly 19 hours. Tonight and tomorrow morning enjoy yourselves to your hearts content. We will also be treating you to meals tomorrow before the start. The facilities in the building are at your disposal. The pool along with the spa, steam room and sauna will on the bottom floor with the full weight room gym." His rings glistened as he pointed at the floor. "This floor has all of the food and entertainment you can think of. Restaurants, movie theaters, bowling alley, karaoke, arcades, roller skating. You name it, we have it." His robe flew open as he spread his arms to the side, flashing some awards and medals on his chest. "The top two floors will have more tactical facilities." His hands slammed the sides of his thighs making the sound of a drum. The rooms volume burst with excitement as people made their way to different stairwells and locations of the property. "Anax!" He paused at the end of the hall. "Where are you headed?" "I want to check out the 'tactical facilities' he was talking about." He said in a mocking deep tone. She giggled. "You don't seem as restless and scared anymore, that's a good sign." He said as he placed a foot on the first step trying to escape the conversation. She quickly grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Well thanks to our talk I have a good idea of how to survive. Also, I didn't think anyone here would be close to my age. Everyone else is in their thirties or older!" She made a jokingly disgusting look at the thought of all of the older men that were hitting on her earlier in the main room. "That's good then, are you going to check out any of the rooms on the property? I hear the sauna is great for the skin and relieves stress." He looked down at her hand still holding his. She quickly removed it and blushed. "I'm going to find my little brother first, I bet the little shit is floating in the pool with an entire pizza on his lap." She laughed and made her way down the stairs. He watched her disappear under the flight of stairs before moving his way up. I hope she's one of The Hunted so I don't have to kill her myself. He thought.