Nada leaned back on one of the extravagant cushions decorating the couch, more European than her father would’ve liked but one her mother insisted on, waiting. Her lower back ached from the bolt upright posture she assumed as she curled her lip at her guests' tardiness. Although according to her mother, she waited thirty-six years and could stand to wait a century more for her suitor to show. According to her mother, this was her last chance. That didn’t mean she was going to ease up now. She ran over what she knew of the man, which was slim to nil. She didn't even have a name. Though, Nada never did like to background-check her suitors, she was more than comfortable in allowing her parents to vouch for his decency and trust her first impression. Lest she loosen her tight hold on her heart in face of his achievements before meeting him, a particular rabbit hole that spewed hellfire and shrapnel. I’ll double-check the contract, Nada thought rapidly, barely resisting slotting her worn thumb through her teeth, agree to let him take as many wives as he wants after me if it means keeping my job, make sure he doesn’t try to swap the contract with a fabricated one like that wretch Waleed did, argue for my work even if it costs me the marriage. She was dimly aware of her cousin stopping by right before the suitor arrived, offering comforting homicide if he tries to pull anything on her. Her father rushed in immediately afterwards, adjusting his ghutra as he took his seat beside her, and soon after the man and his father entered. Nada thought her heart had long stopped skipping with every new man that came asking for her hand. Until she actually saw him and thought: Ah. Shit. - Jamal knew when an angry woman stormed into his office asking who the hell was the new guy in charge of editing the research findings that he could’ve fallen in love with her. “That’d be me, Missus Boss Lady,” he drawled, raising his hand an inch. Her eyes were furious as she stomped over to him, scolding him on professionality and similar Western ideals. He followed the hands liberally gesturing in outrage and knew that yes, he could definitely fall in love. Wow , he thought, staring up in wonder at her angry proclamations that she should fire him. Wow . And so Jamal didn’t stop at off-hand witticisms in his editor’s note, but went off with mad serenades of hilarity, preening every time she marched into his office. Pretty soon, his charm won her over and she started to hold the elevator for him, a huffed laugh and eyes twinkling amusement his reward for a night’s travail in orchestrating the perfect ‘that’s what she said’ joke. And it was when she rapped her fist on his desk on her way home with his revision tucked into her bag and said, “You’re losing your wit, employee,” that he gladly fell off the edge. Then he heard she was unmarried the same moment he realized her parents were still searching. And it took little planning to tell his sister to pass the word onto Nada's mother at Nada's cousin's marriage that he'd be interested, with them replying 'how about Monday?' Jamal barely held back from telling them he was good any day and arrived with his father almost too punctually at the family's mansion. He calmed his pounding heart as he was led into the lavish sitting room, eyes immediately going to his Nada trying to school her expression into neutrality at the sight of him. She has black hair , he mused in quiet wonder, drinking up her features and finally painting a picture of his love, having never seen her face uncovered. He barely dragged his attention away from her to incline his head in a nod after his father introduced him to Nada's. A lumbering man with a beard that scratched his stomach and the hands of an army redneck that could crush his skull in one hairy, sweaty grip. Jamal wasn’t intimidated, though. He knew the man couldn’t risk chasing him out like all the others that flooded in when Nada was twenty and adorable. "Yes? And how are you?" He asked her smoothly in charming tones after their fathers put their meddling to rest and leaned back to watch the two birds dance around each other. She turned red, out of what Jamal liked to think was attraction to his attractive air, "Fine, and you?" she squeaked, tone incongruous with eyes that sent pointed daggers his way. Jamal raised an eyebrow back. Despite what Nada thought, Jamal wasn't stupid . He knew the slightest suspicion of the Hamdi's clan estranged daughter having the slightest unprofessional relationship with any male would cause outrage. On the ride over, his stomach clenched as he mulled over the best that could happen, them disowning her, to the worst, her lovely head burning on a spike. But he didn’t let go of things easily and didn’t really believe the lie that acting required years of practice. He did realize, sitting there, that telling Nada beforehand would’ve helped them both in that regard, but she only really talked to him once every blue moon and he couldn't very well catch her alone with her brothers prowling the halls like confused bulldogs. But Jamal trusted her enough to know that she wouldn't throw them both under the bus like that. Trusted her enough to know that she would play along until they found themselves alone and she could scold him thoroughly and lovingly. Only if she accepted, he reminded himself. And gosh , how much he wanted her to accept. - Omar had problems with his problem child, Nada, named after delicate morning dew twinkling on gossamer, but was everything but. She had asked, fourteen and fairy-light, "Baba, can you please, please let Fahad lend me his science textbooks? Please? I just want to read them." Fine , Omar had thought, no one wants dumb women nowadays, let her educate herself. And he held his middle son by the hair until Fahad agreed to provide their crown jewel with all her heart’s scholarly desires. Then she turned eighteen and denied her first marriage proposal, "No, Baba, I don't want him, not before I graduate. I'll die of grief if not allowed to finish college. And besides, would you settle for anyone less than a prince for your Nada?" This is fine , Omar mused, scratching his head at her whispered denial, pressuring her is no-good with Allah as my witness . And he chased out the slobbering dog out of his house with the calm air of a man whose daughter still had enough suitors for a sizable army. Then she, twenty-three and still serving tea to a father instead of a husband, demurely requested, "Baba, light of my soul, my nearest gate to heaven, I have too much free time and you have too many empty plots of land. Can you, please, consider lending me one? And wasn’t the prophet’s first wife one of Mecca’s richest merchants?” Fine , Omar conceded, despite his wife’s windmill gesticulations of disapproval, let her pull her own weight , and when she told him she wished to start a research center instead of the expected minimarket or laundromat, Lieutenant General Omar Hamdi waved his hand and so it was. Then she was twenty-nine and sobbing for forgiveness at his feet, and his hand was poised to strike the one child he had never beaten, “I had to employ those men, Baba, it was the only way to gain recognition. And- and we enter through different doors and I never truly mingle with them outside of the lab. I don’t even know their first names!” Fine , Omar relented, fury huffing out his nostrils, fine fine fine. But he still demanded she employ his lazy, useless sons in whatever job those poor sods were capable of, ignoring her pleas of scientific minds and intelligent researchers . She could have them lick the floors clean as janitors, for all he cared, just not be there alone with strangers following her beck and call. And so with all these problems that would’ve been resolved if only she was more like her cousins, he was quick to raise an eyebrow when he heard the news that some kid who worked at a certain research center was asking for her hand. “Don’t even imply something like that, Omar,” his wife squawked, “Not with her brothers there, at the most, he noticed she was unmarried and decided to go for her to alleviate his position. Not anything dishonourable.” His wife having thus definitively squashed his suspicions of some shotgun marriage, went back to giving him an overview of the man’s background, family, and miscellaneous bits of gossip she gathered from her all-reaching network of housewives. He wasn't all that convinced when he was face-to-face with him and the poor kid couldn't keep his eyes off Nada. Despite what his daughter thought, Omar wasn't stupid . She couldn't pull a fast one right in front of him and expect him to yield like he always did. Omar squared his shoulders, narrowing his eyes at the two, military-trained senses searching for any red flags. The kid's father, a man that Omar could imagine himself dining with, flicked his eyes at Omar and Omar nodded, allowing the kid to address his daughter. He pounced on the chance, blabbering, "Yes? And how are you?" And Omar could tell that there was no secret liaison from the way Nada turned an irritated pink, an all-too-familiar segue into her leaning over and saying, No, Baba. "Fine, and you?" she coldly replied and Omar leaned back, awaiting the signal that allowed him to kick out whatever trash crawled to his doorstep, already dreading his wife's frustrated midnight weeping. - Years ago, Layan’s grandmother held her hand and hissed to her the universal truth, “All men are snakes.” And then Layan’s grandmother subsequently passed away. Layan recalled those words frequently even though she was a simple girl with simple girl dreams of marrying rich and early. She was everything but her cousin, Nada, who went around spreading propaganda with a spoon about the importance of being career-focused and entrepreneurial. Layan was the simple type of daughter her uncle would’ve preferred. Of course, her plans of simple womanhood were accompanied by the realization of the simple woman fantasy of milking your husband like the cash cow he was before, at the slightest breath of trouble, go running to your father and uncles and hustling half his fortune and the kids while your men exact merciless lawsuits, European-style. “You’ll fall in love with him before you get the chance,” Nada remarked knowingly, as if she was a proper consultant on the subject. Layan remarked as much from her lounge on the bed, lazily staring up at her cousin biting her lip in order to eclipse the smile that always arose when she read through her reports. Despite what her cousin might think, Layan wasn’t stupid . She saw how her toes curled and her hands clenched and she heard the trill of a giggle that always threatened to emerge. "He just reviews the papers and edits them and sometimes he makes witty comments, that’s all,” she replied, feigning nonchalance. All men were snakes , Layan didn’t say because Nada’s mother, Rama, already entreated her not to stoke the fires of her daughter’s independence. And also because Layan was horrified by future visions of her dear cousin being that one hag living underneath the staircase with no children to carry her home. So Layan kept her truths to herself. Until she spotted Rama advertising her daughter like lamb on the market at her wedding . She dug her nails into the groom’s knee and vowed to never forgive this offence. “I will never forgive nor forget,” Layan announced a week later, marching into her Uncle’s villa. Only to be hushed and ushered forcibly into a sitting room, which was no way to treat a bride with honeymoon sores! She huffed, shifting one of the ornate divider panels surrounding the sitting area and glared at her dolled-up cousin. “I will never forgive nor forget,” she started before noticing Nada’s stiff posture and gritted teeth. Layan softened, marching over and unceremoniously plopping down next to her, if only to prove that honeymoon sores were a myth and Nada should know better than to listen to the household help. “I’ll be behind the panels, give the word and I’ll launch at him with a butcher’s knife,” she assured tenderly. Nada shook her head once, eyes sharper than the horse bust welcoming visitors in the hallway. Layan’s hand entwined with her cousin’s for a moment, “I’ll be there either way,” she promised right as the doorbell sounded. Layan assumed her stealthy position, careful not to lean too much onto the panels lest they collapse, and listened. The snake and his father introduced themselves unremarkably. A research assistant when Nada should’ve been married to princes , to sultans . “Yes? And how are you?” The snake, Jassim or something plebian like that, asked with a distinctly slimy voice. Layan vehemently wondered if he had a nasal issue, she hoped he had a nasal issue and suffocated on it. “Fine,” Nada tiredly replied in a resigned tone that chilled Layan with its implications, “and you?” And Layan stilled, her sky falling around her from the realization that while she wanted her married as much as the next relative, she was never truly prepared to let her go. Nada was supposed to be the one that broke through, the supporting pillar that reassured you you didn’t need to sell yourself if you didn’t want to. Nada was supposed to be always there . Layan reached for a vase but got silently taken done by Rama’s lackeys before she could embarrass herself with battery. Then Layan broke her promise and was escorted out with news her husband was on the way. Later, while the dry Arabian landscape swished past the passenger window, she rubbed at her dry eyes and vowed to present Nada with the shiniest gold at her wedding. Glaring abandonment issues thus placated, she fiddled with the radio, searching for a music station when her husband caught her hand over the armrest and stroked slow circles into her palm. Stop trying to seduce me! Layan wanted to scream hysterically because she had a three-step plan for him, but she just couldn’t seem to pull her hand away. - Rama Bashaar, mother of Zayn, wife of Lieutenant General Omar Hamdi, Rapunzel of Damascus, was above scrounging for suitors at third-rate party halls with new money aiming subtle jabs at her age. She told her husband as much while she clasped on heavy earrings, sitting on the edge of the bed preparing to leave for that fool Layan’s wedding. He threw an arm around her waist murmuring, “that’s our Nada” and chuckling. “Fine, but don’t come crawling to me when she asks to fly to the moon,” and with that Rama threw her veil over her elaborate braid and set out with the distinct dread that she’d be coming home emptyhanded. But by the end of the night, she was thanking Allah that she wore her best. Now it was up to her fool daughter not to make a mess of it. “Mama, please ,” she snapped, leaning her head away from the brush that was dabbing blush onto her cheeks. Rama hushed her, clutching her by the chin and tilting her head this way and that, “This is your last chance, my heart, don’t squander it.” “Even though,” her daughter retorted, always obstinate, always disagreeable, “I’m not going to nod and agree to everything like a sheep, I’m not relenting because there’s no one else.” Rama clucked her tongue, sashaying out of the room with a swish of her hair, her daughter following and ranting about her rights or something along those lines. “And so, Mama, I cannot and should not be backed into a corner like this, I can refuse like I did all the others-” Rama turned on her, pointing a crooked finger at her and hissing, “No, you’ll listen to me for once, and not sacrifice the opportunity of a family for your ideals,” she straightened, shooting a look of distaste at the maid that scurried by, she was getting too old for this. She breathed in right as Nada opened her mouth, cutting her off, “You embarrass me, Nada,” she said in a quiet tone meant to cut. It did the trick and Rama walked away, leaving her daughter stabbed and bleeding in the hallway. Rama had better things to oversee. There had to be the finest choices of both spearmint and peppermint tea, for one, the dates had to be curated by the best eye, and the coffee presented in the finest thermos. The only thought she spared for her daughter's feelings was sending Layan her way. When the doorbell finally rang, Rama called out for her husband. He shouted back, hurrying past her. Rama briefly tsked at the short, dark hairs peppering the front of his collar from his shave before deciding to let that particular dog lie as the men were let in and she went to wait in the next room. Rama controlled her meddling for as long as she could before she gave in, eavesdropping through the cracked open door just in time to catch Nada's exchange with the suitor's. "Yes? And how are you?" "Fine, and you?" "Perfect." Rama didn't know whether her daughter thought she was stupid and frankly didn't care, but she heard something in those words that took her half a century back to her own betrothal. And she wasn't a smiling sort of woman but the one that split across her face would've made anyone bet that she was as she huffed, Finally .


Paul paced the living room with a phone to his ear. He periodically peered through the living room blinds as the windows rattled from the revving of a red Trans Am across the street. His neighbor Willy was behind the wheel, door open, hood popped, forever tinkering. “I already talked to the bylaw officer and they told me to call you. I went through all this last wee...” A series of trebly wraps at the front door distracted Paul. “Forget it, I’ve gotta go.” Paul stuffed the phone into his pocket and attended to the visitor but upon opening the door all he found was a crow standing on his doorstep with a blue ribbon in its mouth. The crow - let us call him Ruffleford - dropped the ribbon onto the concrete pad. “Is that for me? Paul asked as he picked up the ribbon. “I suppose this is a thank you for getting you out of that bind.” Paul had released the bird from a garden net earlier that day. The missing right eye being the sole indicator this was the very same crow. The Trans Am engine roared once again, sending the blood in Paul’s veins rippling. “If you’re still in the giving mood, I’d really appreciate if you could figure a way to get that guy to shut the hell up.” Ruffleford took flight. “I suppose it was a pretty big ask.” Late that same afternoon, Paul stretched his arms and released a gaping yawn. He had taken advantage of the silence to take a nap. Willy and his Trans Am went on an asphalt excursion an hour earlier. Paul lumbered to his living room window while scraping his scruffy cheeks with fingernails in need of a good clipping. He had taken a reprieve from shaving - and personal hygiene in general - during the annual summer shutdown of his employer’s factory. In place of the Trans Am at Willy’s place was a brown Buick. A tall man in a speckled brown waist length coat appeared to be consoling Willy’s wife at the door. The consoler departed and made his way up Paul’s sidewalk. Paul prematurely opened the door, catching the visitor by surprise in a pre-knock fist formation. “Can I help you?” Paul inquired of the caller who promptly displayed law enforcement identification. “I’m Detective Saunders. I am not sure if you’re aware of this, but your neighbor across the street, Willy Daroch, has been in a fatal car accident.” “Oh my God, that’s awful!” Not a small amount of concern tainted Paul’s surprised reaction. A tinge of suspicion made him think Ruffleford was tangled up in this somehow. “At the risk of sounding insensitive, I understand there was no love lost between you two?” Detective Saunders replied. Paul twisted his expression into one of feigned ignorance; in the unlikely event Ruffleford was involved. “The widow says that over the course of the summer, you have filed at least a half dozen noise complaints against the deceased.” “A lot of help the police have been with that...” Paul stopped himself short of a verbose rant. The last thing he needed was to say something that could be interpreted as callous disregard. This unspoken cogitation did not go unnoticed by Detective Saunders. “I mean...” Paul continued, but Detective Saunders interjected “I know what you mean, but that’s more of an issue for the bylaw office.” “So I’ve been told. Are we through here, or is there something else I can help you with? I was sort of in the middle of something.” “The pillow face speaks for itself.” Paul’s face went flush, at first with embarrassment, then anger. “Look, am I suspected of something?” “It would be pretty farfetched to believe someone would go to that much trouble to stage an accident, only to show their hand by desecrating the corpse and steal the car keys, all the while remaining undetected.” Ruffleford’s disembodied shriek caused Paul to shudder. “Desecrated?” “If someone was fool enough to leak that little tidbit to the media-sphere we’d deny it. I just wanted to gauge your reaction when you heard it.” “Did I pass your test?” Paul asked. “We’re done here. Have a good day Mr. Laurence.” Paul retreated into his house once Detective Saunders turned the corner in his Buick, then reached into the deepest recesses of his closet and grabbed a handful of clothing. He then staked a pitchfork into the center of his backyard lawn and erected a makeshift scarecrow, using dead leaves as filling. As ridiculous as it may have seemed to him, if Ruffleford was involved in Willy’s death, Paul thought it best to distance himself from the avian. He barely put his hand on the patio door handle when Ruffleford cried out behind him. Paul swung around to find the bird perched comfortably on the pitchfork pinnacle. “Get the hell out of here! Don’t you understand you’re not wanted!?” Ruffleford merely inquired with his one unrelenting eye. “Alright then, you’ve forced my hand.” Paul retrieved a .22 rifle from under his bed and assembled a makeshift sniper’s nest at his window facing the backyard. He poked the barrel out the window, directed into the backyard. By this time, Ruffleford had departed. A series of trebly wraps came from the front door. Paul left his domestic hunters blind and opened the front door to find a set of car keys on the step. Paul glanced left, then right - on the lookout for brown Buick’s and the like - before picking up the blood-speckled keys. Ruffleford dive-bombed from the rooftop and scratched Paul about the head and face. The keys hit the ground and Ruffleford promptly ceased his attack, scooped the keys up, and flew over the roof with them firmly in beak. Paul raced to the backyard and scanned the skies. He saw Ruffleford hang the keys on a branch high atop a poplar tree in the park behind his house. In his mind’s eye, he could see his thumb and index fingerprints on the keychain in bas-relief. If he didn’t know any better he’d have sworn that the crow intended to implicate him as the keys dangled like chimes of culpability. An abundance of picnickers and pedestrians dissuaded Paul from embarking on the ascent. He wiled away the hours and his morale sunk like the setting sun as any hope the keys would fall of their own accord faded with the daylight. After ascertaining the position of the keys one last time as they glimmered in the moonlight, Paul began to climb the poplar. He navigated from branch to branch until he reached height parity with the keys but they were out of reach. It was then a simple matter of navigating away from the trunk. Pussyfooting across the branch as it thinned, Paul inched towards the keys. Once he was within arm’s reach, he swiped for the keys but Ruffleford emerged from behind a cluster of leaves with outstretched wings, emitting an ear-piercing cry. Paul lost his footing and reversed his journey in fast forward, cascading downwards until his body finally thudded against a patch of immaculately manicured grass. The next morning a bicycle Cop discovered the corpse and spoke into her CB radio. The right eye of Paul’s corpse had been carved out. “Looks like we’ve got another one of those “accidents”.” The missing eye was aloft, dangling from Ruffleford’s beak. In a nearby birch tree, the wily bird perched on the rim of a nest, filled to the brim with eyeballs in varying states of decay. He placed Paul’s eye on top of the pile like a macabre ocular capstone.


My daughter wrote this - thought it was too good not to share. She is 10 years old. We are having our children write something every day in response to a prompt we get from different websites. **Chapter 1** The Last Song A beautiful duet was being played on piano one night. It was the last song that person ever heard. It was dark in that house. They ordered pizza for dinner. After they finished eating the pizza they played a song together on the piano. What one of them didn’t know was that the other was plotting to kill them. When they finished the song it was time. It was quick; they shot them and they died. The only thing left was a bitten piece of pizza on the piano. The neighbors heard the gunshot and immediately called 911. From the sound of a beautiful song to the sound of a horrible gunshot. The police rushed to the address the neighbors gave them. There was no sign of the body or the murderer. After further investigations they found that the murderer hid the body in the coat closet. They found out because the detective was going to put his coat in the closet but he found the body instead. The questions they wanted to know was: Why would he kill her? and Who killed her? They searched the whole house for DNA but didn’t even notice the piece of pizza. They had lost all hope of finding the murderer. They soon stopped trying to find them. But the detective was still on the case. A few months later the police station received a phone call from the detective. He said he found a bitten piece of pizza on top of the piano. The police rushed to the house to take the piece of pizza to get the DNA. The detective later found out from a neighbor that they were playing piano together. They found fingerprints on the piano keys, but they didn’t know who’s was who’s. Since they found the pizza slice they decided to look at the victim’s phone who they later found out was a girl named April Gardener. They looked at the recent phone calls and found that she called the pizza place. They went over to the pizza place to find who delivered the pizza to the house. They asked if they could describe the man that took the pizza. They said he was a huge tall dude with an Astros hat on and a white t-shirt. They also sketched the person for them, and they described the car that was on the driveway. The police made an announcement that whoever saw a person with a white truck call the police and report the license plate number, and if anyone owned a white truck that they should come to the police station. Many people came but no one matched the description or the DNA. Later the police released the sketch from the person that worked at the pizza place. A woman came to the police station a day later and said she thinks she knows the man that was sketched. She gave them the address and the police rushed to the house. The DNA matched the man at the house. His name was Bob Strider. The police later learned that Bob Strider was a new gang member. He got in because he killed April Gardener. The police now know who killed April Gardener and why he killed her: to get into a gang. Everyone mourns for April but there is no bringing her back. Bob Strider was sent to prison for life but April is still dead. **Chapter 2** Lactose intolerant Everyone thought Bob Strider was in prison for life but he got out after 10 years. And he was not done yet. He was still in the gang and he got an assignment. (He is one of the bangers). His assignment was to kill someone that was bothering the gang for some time now. His name is Aragorn Pinn. He lives right next to their meeting place and they think he knows a little too much about their whereabouts. He got a paper with information about him. It said: **Aragorn Pinn** **Lactose intolerant** **Single** **Loves piano** **He is a detective** Bob came up with a plan: His sister owes him a favor so he will ask her to go on a fake date with him. He will be hiding in her trunk ready to kill him. He is going to kill him by pretending to be a pizza delivery man and since Aragorn is lactose intolerant he’ll feed him the pizza and kill him while he’s weak. It sounds easy. Date night. All is set. He dresses up as a pizza delivery man and gets a pizza. Just before he rings the doorbell he hears the song that he played on piano with April. He pushes that memory away and rings the doorbell. *Ding Dong*. ‘Who is it?’ says Aragorn. ‘Pizza!’ Bob says. ‘I didn’t order pizza though’ says Aragorn ‘I did’ says Bob’s sister. ‘Ok’ says Aragorn. Bob walks in and offers pizza. ‘I’m lactose intolerant’ Bob still forces the pizza into his mouth. You can barely hear the muffled cry of Aragorn. Bob grabs the knife from his pocket and quickly stabs him. ‘Goodbye’ and you Aragorn was never heard of again.


Ever since I could hold my father’s old digital camera in both hands, I’d been fascinated by taking pictures. Capturing life in a single moment. That first camera barely worked - it was more than a few years old by the time he gave it to me after months of me disappearing with it into the garden for hours on end. I remember him saying ‘someone might as well use it’, and with that my life took a very straightforward path. After finishing school, I set up my own photography business. I knew university would never be for me, as the idea of sitting in a lecture hall for four years bored me almost to tears. As soon as I could afford to, I paid a friend to set up a website for me - Luke Lane Photography - and I got to work as soon as I could, though the jobs were slow at first. My first wedding, a job I had taken on with some reluctance but came with a modest paycheck, was for an old school friend. He’d met his soon-to-be-wife at college and after they both dropped out, moved back to our hometown in deep Sussex. The day had gone smoothly, and once I’d published a selection of the best shots to my website I started getting more and more requests coming through the ‘Make a Request’ form for ‘the guy who took those photos at George’s wedding’. Who knew my big break would have been a wedding for someone who used to eat insects for fun at school. Eventually I’d set myself up with a regular gig, and most weekends I bundled my equipment into my aging Honda and drove - occasionally for a few hours at a time - to the next venue. There weren’t many professional photographers in the area, and my rates were reasonable enough that I enjoyed moderate success, particularly in the summer. However winter was usually a different story - not many people want to get married in the cold, so I was usually running lean in those months while I scraped enough together for rent. This year was shaping up to be particularly demanding - my car, which had run fine through the years despite the odds against it, had finally breathed its last on the side of the road last week. Replacing it - and it as my sole source of transportation it definitely needed replacing - had left a more-than-significant hole in my finances that I desperately needed to fill if I wanted to have somewhere to live. It was then, as I was sitting hunched over the plastic-topped table I used as a desk scouring through my bank account desperately trying to find something, anything I could use to pay rent, that a job request came through. The night was late - really more like morning, that's how long I had been on my laptop at that point, when the email notification pinged up at the bottom corner of my screen. I let it disappear at first, doubtful that a job request sent in the dead of night could really be genuine, but curiosity got the better of me and after a few moments I clicked into my inbox to read it. The email subject was ‘Request for the services of Mr. Lane’. The formality of the title struck me as unusual compared to the emails I usually received - some of them were barely legible. ‘Dear Mr. Lane,’ the email began. ‘My name is D. Middleton, and I am inquiring in regards to your photography services for the wedding of my daughter and her husband.’ The rest of the email covered the details of the job - location, time, and so on - all in the same curiously formal tone. I skim read up to the end, where I noticed something that stood out - a confidentiality clause. For most jobs, it was standard practice not to post anything online before the lucky couple had signed off on the edits, but a full-on confidentiality agreement asking me not to tell anyone I’d even been at the wedding was almost unheard of, particularly as after which was a much, much higher amount of money than I usually asked for. Enough that my housing worries would be taken care of, at least until the spring came around. God, I hoped this wasn’t a joke. Immediately I tapped out a response and sent it through, confirming the fee and request were correct, and waited in hope of a reply, my face so close to the screen at this point I would have smacked into it with a gentle push. I was rewarded a few minutes later with another email, reiterating D. Middleton was indeed very serious and asking if I could be available in two days. Usually a booking this close to the ceremony would set off alarm bells in my head - leaving the photographer this late was generally a sign that someone else had dropped out - but when the contents of your fridge consist of a few slices of vegan cheese and a suspect salad from the supermarket’s reduced section, alarm bells can be ignored to a certain extent. After sending over a request for the deposit and my bank details, I went to bed, though sleep eluded me and I stared at the ceiling for a few hours before I eventually drifted off. A few days later, I pulled up to the farmhouse mid-morning. The sky was overcast and the chill of autumn had started to seep in. Stepping out of the car, it was deathly quiet and I couldn’t see any signs of life. Either this was objectively the worst wedding in the universe or I was the only one here. I pulled up the email on my phone - everything matched with the details I’d written down which eliminated the possibility I had misread the address or time. I shrugged to myself, figuring I’d been given an earlier time to take some shots of the couple before the guests arrived, and went around to the boot of my car to fetch my equipment. As I began delicately placing the heavy bags down onto the graveled drive, the front door of the house opened, and out stepped a man, small in stature and clearly middle-aged, his hair peppered with grays. He was dressed in a navy three-piece suit, with a matching tie and floral waistcoat. ‘My Lane I presume?’ he came towards me, hand outstretched. ‘That’s me,’ I responded, shaking his hand. It was curiously cold. ‘Are you Mr. Middleton?’ He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Please, call me David. Thanks so much for coming on short notice. Care to come inside?’ He gestured towards the open door to the house, and shouldering my camera bags, I made for the entrance. ‘Are you expecting the guests a bit later?’ I asked over my shoulder, as I gingerly navigated the narrow doorway, ducking my head to avoid the low frame. David followed, and shut the door behind us. The corridor was cramped so he was forced to awkwardly side-shuffle past the bulky bags to get through. ‘Ah no other guests today, today is family only,’ he smiled again, tight-lipped, and gestured to me to follow him down the hall and through a door. We emerged into the kitchen, which was bare and sterile, cold light filtering through the windows. The only furniture was a hard worn wooden table, at which a woman sat, also dressed for a wedding in clothing that was as stark and drab as the room around her. David crossed over to the table and gave her shoulder a brief squeeze as he took the chair next to her, so I could only assume she was his wife, and indicated I should sit down in the empty chair opposite them. She didn’t look at me as I sat, content to remain gazing at the table as though I wasn’t there. There was a moment of tense silence, and David cleared his throat. ‘So, Mr Lane,’ he began haltingly, as though he wasn’t sure how to begin. ‘How much do you know about the Victorians?’ An odd question for a wedding photographer. I struggled to recall from the depths of my memory History lessons of pictures of scowling men in top hats and steam engines. ‘Er, only what I remember from school, so not much,’ I answered, confused where this could be going. ‘Is that related to today?’ David nodded sadly, no longer quite meeting my eye. ‘There’s something we need to confess, Mr Lane. I wasn’t sure how to put this into writing, but the photos we need you to take today are.. somewhat unusual.’ ‘I’ve done themed weddings before, if that’s what you mean.’ I was starting to feel out of my depth here - something was definitely wrong here. David shook his head, reaching a hand to take a hold of his wife’s. She continued to stare into nothing, not reacting to his touch. ‘It’s a bit more than just a ‘theme’, I’m afraid,’ he smiled at me apologetically. ‘How do I put this? In the Victorian era, many families struggled to make ends meet and luxuries were often out of their reach except for special occasions. Family photographs were certainly one of those luxuries.’ He glanced over my shoulder and I turned my head to see a closed door behind me. I couldn’t place it but there was something emanating from behind the door, a cold feeling that made me shiver. ‘If this is to do with the rates..’ ‘Oh no, you’ll be paid what we promised,’ David held up his hand reassuringly. ‘It’s not that we can’t afford to pay you, but please let me continue.’ I was very lost at this point. Was this whole job some kind of prank? ‘When a family at that time wanted a portrait, it was a special moment, one that often they could only afford once in a generation. As such they were usually reserved for the birth of a child, or the death of a loved one, occasionally both. Something to keep them close after they passed,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure I follow you..’ I was feeling more and more uneasy with each passing moment. Would the money really be worth whatever this was? ‘As I said in my message, today is my daughter and her husband’s wedding day. Or, more accurately, it was supposed to be their wedding day,’ David looked at me meaningfully.. ‘They..’ he paused here, his eyes starting to tear, and his next words came out in a choke. ‘They died last week in a car accident.’ ‘They.. died?’ I was certain I had misheard him. ‘But I’m here to.. take photos of their wedding?’ David nodded silently. ‘They’re in the next room,’ Mrs Middleton spoke for the first time. Her voice was tiny, quiet and hoarse, like she’d been crying for hours. ‘They died and they’re behind that door, waiting for us.’ She pried her hand from her husband’s, and for the first time her eyes met mine. ‘What David is asking for.. what we’re asking for.. is one last memory with them before we say goodbye.’ With that, what they were asking me to do finally clicked in my mind. I stood up immediately, knocking over my chair with a bang that echoed around the room. ‘You can’t be serious. You’re both insane.’ They said nothing, simply stared up at me. I made to pick up my bags, intent on getting out of there as quickly as possible, but David rose and grabbed my arm before I could move away. ‘Please! We’re not going to hurt you, I promise,’ he pleaded with me. ‘We’re just parents wanting this final moment with our daughter while we still can. I know it’s an unorthodox request but I promise we’ll pay you everything we agreed.’ He let go of my arm, looking at me like I was a cornered animal ready to bolt. ‘Unorthodox? Try illegal,’ I responded. ‘I should call the police.’ I dug into my pocket, pulling out my phone. ‘Wait! Please,’ said David. ‘I.. I own the funeral home their.. bodies.. were delivered to.’ He said the word ‘bodies’ like it caused him physical pain. ‘I’m responsible for them until the funeral. I promise you,’ he looked at my pleadingly. ‘We wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t the only way.’ ‘The only way?! You stole your daughter’s corpse and you’ve what, posed it as though it’s her wedding day? I’m leaving.’ At this point Mrs Middleton broke into tears, putting her hands to her face and her shoulders rocked up and down as her husband returned to his seat, putting his arm around her. I turned away from the couple, scooping up my bags and heading towards the door back out into the hallway. ‘Please, stop for a moment,’ I heard David’s desperate voice behind me. ‘We’ll pay you double the agreed fee for this.’ At this, and against my better judgment, I paused. Every voice in my mind told me to go, to run before this entire situation took a turn for the worse, but double an already-outrageous sum of money would set me up for months and months. The concept of no more weddings, at least for a while, was hardly stirring motivation but I’d be lying if I said at that moment the image of my rundown, leaking flat didn’t come into mind. I could afford a new suite of equipment, a real darkroom, the kick to my career I desperately needed.. I’ve never been an overly ambitious person, but selfish would be an appropriate term. David, seeing my hesitation, rose for a second time and came over to me. ‘Double, I promise. I’ll even pay you right now if you like,’ he nodded at me, keen to reassure that he was completely sincere. ‘Before you make a decision, please, just come see them. Joyce did an outstanding job, I promise. They look like they’re sleeping, that’s it,’ his voice was gentle, as though he was talking to a crying child. I didn’t move, torn between the two sides of my moral compass - I should leave, leave right now , report them both and never look back. How did I even know any of this story was even true? On the other hand though.. I desperately needed that money and if I did quick work, I could be out of there in less than half an hour. It’s not like there would be many poses they could do as corpses, and if they really looked like they were sleeping, maybe I could pretend, for a little while at least. I could still feel that emanating presence coming from the door though, like someone was waiting just behind it. David,, as though my silence was taken as agreement, left me and crossed to the door leaving the chair I’d toppled where it lay. His wife, whom I assumed was the Joyce he referred to, had stopped crying by now, raising her head out of her hands to look at me again with those eyes - eyes I realised now were those of a mother in mourning. ‘Please,’ she mouthed at me wordlessly. I slowly, reluctantly, placed my bags back onto the floor. David pushed open the door with one hand, with the other waving me over. ‘Just a look, and if you still say ‘no’ then we’ll forget this ever happened, and I’ll give you the money we agreed. I’m a man of my word.’ Slowly, I moved towards him, feeling like I was trapped in a dream, my legs moving almost of their own accord, and when I finally reached the doorway after what felt like hours, I looked inside the room. - I took the job in the end. Of course I did. Later that night, sitting at home over my laptop with a strong drink, I edited the photos exactly as I would have done for any other wedding. Usually I’d take a few days for this, pouring over the details to make sure they were just so, but I wanted today to be over as soon as possible. With the final files sent, I pushed the laptop away, and took a long draught from my glass. The liquid trickled down my throat, warm and gentle with the promise of memories dulled. My last look at Joyce’s face in the rearview mirror as I drove away afterwards. She was smiling, the first time she’d done so all day., and in a way it chilled me more than anything else I’d seen in that morning.. I checked my phone again, something I’d been doing obsessively since I reached home. The money was all there, just as they promised, but today had been enough for me. Making plans could wait until the morning, and with this thought, I drained my glass and lurched from the room. As I moved out of the kitchen towards my bedroom something made me pause, and I turned back, grabbing my laptop and taking it with me. Once I was firmly ensconced in the blankets, I opened it again, not quite sure what I was expecting, and went to my inbox. At the top, an unread email. Like the Middleton’s, it had been sent late, far later than any normal person would be researching wedding photographers. I opened it, and read the first line. Dear Mr Lane, I was recommended to you by a close friend of mine, Mr. David Middleton.. Ever since I could hold my father’s old digital camera in both hands, I’d been fascinated by taking pictures. Capturing life in a single moment - or if not life, death.


#Welcome to the Micro Monday Challenge! Hello writers! Welcome to Micro Monday! I am excited to present you all with a chance to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic? I’m glad you asked! Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I’ll give you a single constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. It might be an image, song, theme word, sentence, or a simple writing prompt. You’re free to interpret the prompt how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.** Remember, feedback matters! And don’t forget to upvote your favorites and nominate them using the new form!   *** #This week’s challenge: **Theme: ** **Bonus Constraint (not required; worth 5 pts.) - Story uses second person POV.** This week’s challenge is to use the theme of in your story. It (or the idea) should appear in some way within the story. You may include the theme word if you wish, but it is not necessary. Use of the bonus constraint is also not required. You may interpret the theme any way you like, as long as the connection is clear and you follow all sub and post rules.   *** #How It Works - **Submit a story between 100-300 words in the comments below.** You have until Sunday at 11:59pm EST. (No poetry.) - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and rankings. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post, exclusively. Micro serials are acceptable, but please keep in mind that each installment should be able to stand on its own and be understood without leaning on previous installments. - **Come back throughout the week, read the other stories, and leave them a comment on the thread with some feedback.** You have until **2pm EST Monday** to get your feedback in. Only **actionable feedback** will be awarded points. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Please follow all subreddit rules and be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here; we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. You can find a list of . - **Nominate your favorite stories at the end of the week .** You have until **2pm EST** next Monday to submit nominations. (Please note: The form does not open until Monday morning, after the story submission deadline.) - **If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail.** Top-level comments are reserved for story submissions. - And most of all, be creative and have fun!   *** #Campfire & Nominations - On Mondays at 12pm EST, I hold a Campfire on our server. We read all the stories from the weekly thread and provide verbal feedback for those who are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Everyone is welcome! - Nominations are made . (See the Rules section of the post for more information.)   *** #How Rankings are Tallied Rankings work on a point-based system. Here is the current breakdown. (A few adjustments have been made; note that upvotes will no longer count for points). - **Use of prompt/constraint:** 20 points (required) - **Use of bonus constraint:** 5 points (not required) - ***Actionable* Feedback on the thread:** 5 points each (up to 25 pts.) - **User nominations:** 10 points each (no cap) - **Bay’s nomination:** 40 pts for first, 30 pts for second, and 20 pts for third (plus regular nominations) - **Submitting nominations:** 5 points (total) **Note on feedback:** - Points will only be awarded for **actionable** feedback. So what is actionable feedback? It is feedback that is constructive, something that the author can use to improve. An actionable critique not only outlines the issue or weakness, but uses specific examples and explanations to describe why it may be doing, or not doing, what it should. Check out by u/FyeNite as an example.   *** #Rankings - - Submitted by u/DmonRth   - - Submitted by u/FyeNite   - - Submitted by u/katpoker666   - - Submitted by u/Sch0larite   - **Crit Star** - Awarded Crit Credit for r/WPCriique: u/katherine_c *** ###Subreddit News - Try your hand at serial writing with - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


“Oh, oh Look, Hannah! This one looks nice and simple.” Amanda said, surprisingly excited as she was reading off the request wall for a quest. “Nope, I’m done! Call me a turkey and stick a fork in me because I’m done!” I snarled and crossed my arms. I have had it with these quests today. They were ridiculous, unreasonable, and no one wanted to pay up. I swear, those people, who were requesting quest, needs to look back on the Guild Guide to understand what was classified as a reasonable quest. Amanda then gave me a pitiful smile as her eyebrows started to curve up. Before I knew it, Amanda was in my personal bubble, wrapping me around her arms while giving me some cheek to cheek action. Arghhh, Amanda was a close friend of mine, but she took the term close literally and had no respect for privacy or personal space. “Get off, Amanda!” I said, and tried to at least gain some distance between our faces, but, it was useless, I was no match for this over grown half breed. “Personal space! Personal space, girl!” She then started to make a devilish grin while giving me an Eskimo kiss. Things were getting weird and unpleasant, fast! “Not until you agree to do one more quest.” She said. “No!” I replied, forgetting the situation I was in. “I’m tired, hungry, and I possibly stink.” “Well, I guess I just have to keep holding on to my little Sweetpea.” Amanda then stopped with the Eskimo kisses, and went back to having our cheeks together. She had me now, and she knew it. I could either do one more simple, tiny quest, or get stuck with this cuddly business with another female, and on top of that, people were starting to stare. I had no choice. “Okay!” I shouted. “Yippee!” And she cheered. I didn’t understand why she was forcing the both of us to go through another doggie dooky storm. Amanda knew, just as I, that we sucked today. Every quest we took was just out of control. Earlier today, we took a quest to chase boars out of a garden, and we were the ones who got chased out of the garden. So, we didn’t get paid. Then there was one where we had to hunt a Jelly Queen Fighter Fish, and that was just the biggest headache. When we finally caught the dang thing, we apparently caught a Jelly King Fighter Fish, and our client wasn’t satisfied. He flipped out about it and refused to pay, but Amanda refused not to get paid. So, she ended up mugging him for the amount owed, and left him with the Jelly King Fighter Fish. That was the funky stuff that left me wanting to give up, and apparently leaving Amanda wanting more. Once I had my freedom, I released a sigh that explained my frustrations, and took a seat on a bench while Amanda dashed back to the request wall, trying to find that perfect quest. “Oh, Hannah!” Amanda shouted as I was trying to rest. “What now!?” “I’ve found a quest that you’re going to just simply adore!” “Amanda, there is no quest that I would possibly ado-” “It’s from Lent.” Just as her words hit me, the blood rushed to my ears, and I felt a second color turning my face. I was speechless for the moment. “N-no way. Let me see.” I said as I found the words I needed. Amanda then came like a ballerina, walking on the tip of her toes moving inch by inch while performing spinning jumps. All that, just to bring me the request form. Once she was in my reach, I snatched it and gave it a good look. It was exactly as she said. It really was from Lent, but what was more breathing taking, was what his request was. It said: I’m looking for a special flower to give to a very special girl, but I can’t seem to find it nowhere. I’m a bit shame to post this, but I really need the help. If anyone knows where the Snow Ice Flower is located, then please let me know, or bring it to me. So, I can finally take the next step in my relationship with her. My mouthed then gapped open and my hands started to sweat. I couldn’t believe it. Lent was finally about to confess his love... to me. “You know what, Hannah?” Amanda said as she snatched Lent’s request form from me. “I stink too. Let’s draw a bath and call it a day.” “No way!” I shouted, but after I realized how eager I was sounding, I cleared my voice and started again. “I-I mean, you always stink, Amanda, and umm... Lents apart of our Guild, so it’s like our duty to assist.” Amanda just looked at me as she pushed her lips to the side. “What?” She continued to just stare with that stupid look on her face without saying a word. “Say something!” I demanded, but she made a hum instead of doing what she was told. I then felt her eyes judging me. I knew what she was thinking, and she was completely wrong! I then clutched my fist as my teeth started to grind on each other. I closed my eyes to try and help control myself, but I couldn’t, I had too much energy stored in me; I had to let it out on her. “Shut-up! You, stupid judgmental panda! We’re doing this quest because we are a Guild and that’s what Guild’s do! So, stop saying we’re doing it because I like him, because I don’t!” After I let Amanda have my rage, she just took a smile to her face. “Sweetpea, I didn’t say anything.” She said. I snarled at her as I turned myself away from her. “You were thinking it, so I just told your mind to shut up.” She then giggled before saying, “You’re so cute, Sweetpea.” “Let’s see how cute you find me, when I stick my sword up your butt hole.” She then turned my threat into a joke as she walked past me. “Stop playing around, Sweetpea. If we’re going to get this done, then let’s get to it. the Snow Ice flower isn’t easy to obtain.” Amanda said, getting serious. Who was playing around? I was serious. If she kept thinking nonsense, then she will find my sword up her rectum. After Amanda got her head straight, we went over to the gate keeper, so we could be transported to where we needed to go. “Good evening, ladies, I’m the gate keeper, Dino, where would you like to go?” Dino the Gate Keeper said. I then hummed and realized, I didn’t have a clue to where this ice flower was even located. But, if I had to guess, then it would be somewhere icy and cold. Arghhh, just thinking about the cold was making me shiver, but luckily for me, my soul was that of a phoenix, which made my normal body temp 298.9 C., and if needed, I could always raise it up, but I wonder how Amanda would survive? “We would like to go to Cave lite by Flames.” Amanda said to Dino the Gate keeper. When I heard that, I nearly flipped my beanie. “Whoa, whoa, wait a sec.” I said stopping Dino the-, you know what? Let’s just call him Dino. Anyways, after I stopped Dino from opening the gate to Cave lite by Flames, I looked at Amanda as if she was crazy. “What are you doing, Amanda? Hello, ice, flames, call me crazy, but I don’t think those two go.” I said. Amanda then closed her eyes while smiling, “Don’t be so quick to call me an oxymoron, Sweetpea.” I then remain silent for a brief moment. It seemed Amanda new something I didn’t. “I’m not your Sweetpea, and I wasn’t even calling you that, jeez.” Even though that was exactly what I was getting at, I still denied the truth. As I folded my arms, I waited for Amanda to say what she needed to say. “Now, if rumors and research prove to be in our favor, then the Snow Ice Flower should be dead center of a volcanic area, the hotter the area the higher the possibility of its existence.” Hearing her, made me looked at her even more confused. I wonder if Amanda was listening to herself? The Snow Ice Flower was a mythical flower that covered itself in a clothing of ice, that was believed to remain at the temperature of dry ice. (Which is -78.5 C. if anyone was wondering). Did I needed to explain myself any further on why Amanda’s theory didn’t even remotely make sense. But I just sighed and kept quiet. Although I was starting to question Amanda’s level of common sense, I decided to hear her out because she usually wasn’t the one to get mythical facts wrong. If anyone knew where the Snow Ice Flower was, then it be her. “You see, Sweetpea,” Amanda said. “I’m not your Sweetpea, but go on.” “Unlike most plants that use light energy for photosynthesis, the ice flower actually uses extremely high temperatures to make photosynthesis, and instead of it releasing oxygen, it releases carbon dioxide, causing it to instantly freeze its roots and eventually freezing itself. So, with the high temperatures it will eventually defrost and repeat its cycle.” “... I... guess that makes sense?” I was starting to figure out why it was a mythical flower. The dang thing didn’t make sense. “Umm, well, to Cave lite by Flames then?” at this point, I was starting to question everything that made sense in my life. “To Cave lite by Flames!” Once Dino heard our request, he put in the coordinates to send us to where we wanted to go. When we arrived, waves of hot lava splashed like the ocean in a storm. The sky was sickly black with matching clouds that created its own lighting. The air was thick and hard to breathe. Amanda, who was next to me, instantly started to sweat and wheeze. She was having a difficult time adjusting to the certain change in climax and atmosphere. That was to be expected of her, from anyone. I’m sure I would have been the same, if my soul wasn’t of a phoenix; it embraced and welcomed my body to heat. “There,” Amanda said, pointing to a volcano, center of the land. “That is where we’ll find our flower.” Amanda then fell to her knees as she coughed, gasping for air. “Amanda, are you going to be okay!?” I said as I went to her aid. She then looked at me with a smile before saying, “Don’t worry, Sweetpea, this is nothing. I will see you through this.” Hearing her words made me return the smile. But still, I couldn’t help feel a bit selfish. “Thank you, Amanda.” “I’ll do anything to help you attain true love.” “W-w-wha? I-I-I, umm, well... No!” my face soon became surprised as I pushed myself away from Amanda. Once I got a hold of myself, I had to remind Amanda what the purpose of this quest was for. “I told you already! No one loves that lazy bum. We are doing his request because he’s a friend and because we are a Guild, nothing more, nothing less.” “Sweetpea, there’s no shame in the burning flames of love.” “Stop calling me that, and the only thing burning is this hot lava. Now come on, we’ve wasted enough time.” I said as I started to lead the way. “Yes, let’s not prolong this quest for true loves test, any longer.” Amanda said, and started to follow behind me. At this point, I realized that it was just easier to ignore her. I couldn’t believe I was actually worried about her. As we hiked our way up the volcano area, it was silent and calm. The only thing you could hear was the environment, and the clicking of our shoes against the dusty old lands. But just then, the ground started to rumble and a screech was heard throughout the land. It made me feel a bit worried of what could be living in this hell resembling place. I was about to ask Amanda, but after seeing her coughing and wheezing, I thought it be best to let her save her strength. As we got closer to the granddaddy of volcanos, a faint blue light found its way through the thick black fog. “Th-that’s it.” Amanda barely managed to say. She was drenched from sweat, her knees were shaking, and her voice sounded as if she was a smoker for years. Once my head registered how bad Amanda was doing, the guilt soon race to my heart. “Amanda, how about you stay and rest. I’ll get the flower from the volcano. Okay?” “No, it’s too dangerous for you to go alone.” Amanda said, trying to show she was fine, but it was too late, I was already running to the top of the volcano. “Well if you can keep up, then you can tag along.” “Hannah! Wait a sec-” Amanda tried to stop me, but I was already realizing why she didn’t want me to go alone. Out of nowhere a dark black dragon appeared before me. His blood red eyes stared me as he opened his mouth to let out his battle cry. “You got to be kidding me. Amanda, why didn’t you tell me there was a Darkness Dragon here.” I said as I placed my scarf over my nose and drew my blades. Before I could even act, Amanda came running with her spear and jumped on the back of the dragon’s neck, and pierced her spear through. “Well, you heard the screech and didn’t asked about it, so I thought you knew.” She said, as she struggled to stay on top of the dragon’s neck, but it was proven to be more of a challenge than she could handle because the dragon started ringing his neck around until Amanda and her spear was off. As Amanda went flying south, it was my turn to get a piece of the action. I wasn’t as reckless as Amanda. I then started running to the side of the dragon to try and reach a blind spot. When I saw an opening, I lunged to stab the side of his ribs followed by a cross slash, but when I struck him, my blades couldn’t pierce his skin. It was like I took a slash at metal. In my moment of surprise, the dragon gave me a tail whip to the cheek that sent me rolling on the ground. Once I regain my balance, Amanda came in next to me. “Hannah, you okay?” Amanda asked, but I didn’t have time to answer because the dragon came in with its razor-sharp wings, trying to take our heads. I ducked then rolled to dodge the fetal attack. Amanda did the same, but she was acting much slower because of this, she got nicked on one of her panda ears. The atmosphere of the place had to be taking a toll on her, plus she was already tired. But I didn’t have time to worry about her because the dragon was giving us an energy beam from the mouth, to be sure we were toast. As soon as he fired, I jumped out the way while Amanda did a back-flip. When she landed, she was barely standing, and the dragon had his eyes set on her. He then ready his sharp wings and came zooming in on her. “Move!” I said as I came just in time to shove her to safety, but in result, I got the ball on my beanie cut off. “H-Hannah,” Amanda said, when I was rising from on top of her. “My crystal edge spear is the only thing that can penetrate its thick skin.” With that, her eyes closed and her breathing went steady. Another thing I wished she had inform me earlier, but now was not the time. I knew what I had to do. I sheathe both my blades, and then picked up Amanda’s spear and ready myself. As the dragon was swirling around us, I closed my eyes and focused on my inner power, my soul aura. With my phoenix soul, I raised my body’s temperature to at least 12,678 C. With my soul aura causing my body to glow hot pink, I dashed into the air charging at the dark beast. He seen me coming a mile away, but instead of trying to dodge me, he chose to blast me with his plasm breath. I went straight through it. Just as I thought, his plasm breath was just a heatwave and my body was hotter than it, so it no longer had an effect on me. With Amanda’s spear, I rammed the dragon straight in his throat. I then lift Amanda’s spear in him, so I could have time to use his head as a stepping stone to go higher into the air. Once gravity had its grasp on me, I unsheathed my swords and put all my body heat to them. As I was coming down, I dove head first with my swords in front to make a X, and I sliced his head clean off like a hot knife through butter. His skin was tough, but with my hot aura, I was able to melt through it. I guess Amanda forgot about my little trick. He was done. As the dragon felled, so did Amanda’s spear, and of course, I retrieved it. “S-Sweetpea, did you do it?” Amanda asked as she was waking up. “You know I’m not your Sweetpea,” I replied with a smile. “And yes, I did. So, just rest, Amanda. I’m gonna grab the flower, so we can go home.” Sure enough, it was there as Amanda said, and as beautiful as the legends told. When I picked it up, I kept up my bodies high temperature, so I wouldn’t get frost bite. When we got home, Amanda put the snow ice flower in a special case, so it could keep its beauty. “Well, Sweetpea, are you ready to give the flower to Lent?” Amanda asked. “I can’t give it to him like this. I’m a mess. Let me at least freshen up first.” Without wasting time, I hopped in the shower, redid my hair, and put on one of my special dresses with a luxurious beanie. “How do I look?” I said as I modeled for her. “You look beautiful, Sweetpea.” Amanda replied, with her eyes tearing up. “You grow up so fast.” “Hehe, stop it, Amanda, your embarrassing me.” Amanda just cupped her mouth as she went to get the flower for me. “Here, go to him.” I just rolled my eyes at her. I didn’t like Lent. I just was doing all this, so I could get free dinner for all my hard work, but I didn’t bother to tell Amanda that, her head was stuck in the clouds. Once I made it to Lent’s place, I took a deep breath and ignored all the butterflies in my stomach. This was it. I wanted so bad to just run back home and say, I couldn’t do it, but my heart wouldn’t let me. Next thing I knew, I was knocking on his door, waiting for him to answer. As the door cracked open, I felt my heart pounding at the sight of his face. “Hannah?” He said as he saw me. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make the guild raid because...” I just sighed, and turned my head to the side. Sometimes I wished he was a better person, but he was a lazy man before being a man. It was only natural for him to make up an excuse to get out of work. “No, Dummy, I’m here because I have something for you.” I said trying to get to the point. Lent’s laziness was something I learned to accept, but I’m still working on beating it out of him. “No way! Is that...” He said, finally realizing the reason why I’m here. I felt my face changing a color as I nodded my head to confirm what he couldn’t believe. “Thanks a million! Seriously you rock!” He then grabbed the flower from me and shut the door in my face... What, the, HECK! I then banged on his door as loud as I could until he opened it once more. “Is there anything else Hannah?” He said while still holding my hard work. “That’s it!? That’s all you have to say!?” Lent then took a good look at me before he spoke his next words. “Umm, Nice outfit?” “You, idiot! What about what you said on your quest form!” “Oh that? Ha, I didn’t think you were interested.” I then calmed down and put a smile on. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m interested, but I am curious of what this is...” I couldn’t believe I just said what I said. After that, I couldn’t dare look him in the eyes. “Yeah, me too.” I then found the strength I needed to left my head and look at him. This time, he couldn’t look at me as he avoided my eyes. “Her Name is Katherine.” “What!?” “I met her by actually doing a quest. Can you believe it?” I couldn’t believe this stupid, rotten, bum! I went through all this trouble for him! And he’s talking about another girl! Out of sheer spite, I snatched the snow ice flower from him, broke open the container, and ate the dang thing. Instantly I regretted eating it, but I just couldn’t control myself. “Y-you can go f-find your own f-f-freaking flower!” I said, stuttering. Now that the ice flower was inside me, it made me feel chills that I never felt before. “A-and I expect you to be at our G-G-Guild meeting or your k-k-kicked!” I then blew my cold ice breath to his face, so it could freeze that stupid look. “What the...?” He barely managed to mumble because his lips were frozen together. As I was leaving, I made up my mind right then and there that Lent was a lazy pig, and I will never do anything nice for that freeloader ever again.


With a *bang*, the doors of the saloon burst open, nearly flying off their hinges. Where they were now stood a shadowy cowpoke, with a big iron on his hip. He took a look around (which had his big ears swinging in the breeze), before waltzing up to the bar counter, and taking a seat on one of the various stools. All the patrons kept their gaze on him a moment longer, before returning to their business. The bartender walked over to him, polishing a wine glass. “What'll you be having sir, on this fine evening?” asked the bartender, his beak clacking against itself with every word. “A shot of tequila, if you wouldn’t mind.” replied Austin, flipping the bird a coin. “And don’t call me sir, the name’s austin” continued the rabbit. Snatching the silver dollar out of the air, the bartender put down the glass and grabbed a smaller one. He took it over to a keg and filled it up at the tap. Then, he slid it down the counter, where Austin caught it in his fuzzy hand. He quickly downed the shot, the booze burning his throat and sending a tingle up his floppity ears, making every strand of fur stand on end. “Well mister Austin, what’s your business round’ these parts? I’d reckon I've not seen your face before.” setting the glass back on the counter, he replied with a smirk “ Well, if you must know. I’m here looking for an outlaw, calls himself Wilson wilks. About yea’ tall snake, green scales, missin’ an eye. Kinda’ hard to miss, actually. You by chance wouldn’t happen to remember seein’ a fellow like that, would ya? '' the bartender’s beak opened to speak, but no words came out. His gaze drifted to the side of Austin, and his face went pale. It looked like he’d seen a ghost. After a moment of awkward silence, Austin piped up. “Uh sir, is there a problem?” snapped out of his daze by the jackrabbit’s voice, the bartender managed a reply “uh, sorry mister, can’t say I have.” midway through the sentence the avian snuck a look at his pocket watch. “Well, would you look at the time. Sorry mister Austin, afraid I’m past due to close up shop. Last call for drinks fellas, last call!'' At this, most of the patrons simply got up and walked out, but a few of them walked over to the counter. one shambling, clearly drunk. After they’d made their orders and downed their shots, they too made their way out the door. Once the saloon was clear, Austin spoke up. “Well, that’s a shame. Hey, think I could get another shot of tequila fore’ you close up shop?” to which the bartender sighed, and answered “I suppose'' he grabbed the shot glass he’d left from his last one and refilled it. He slid it down the counter, to be caught by Austin's furred hand. He downed it and got up but set back the glass, before walking out. Right before he took a step through the doors, the bartender spoke “Oh, and mister austin. Good luck!” Austin looked back, and was about to ask what the luck was for, until a gunshot rang out, followed by a stray bullet embedding itself in the wall next to him. With this he turned his gaze to the source of the slug which was a shadowy figure, obscured by the low sun. Austin didn’t need to see his face, that cheap shot said it all. “Wilks! I’ve been looking for you, but I must say: It’s all too kind of ya’ to do the work for me.” With a smirk, the scaly sharp-shooter proclaimed “Big words from someone who’ll last about as long as a pint of whiskey in a five hand game a’ poker” the time for talk over, their hands slowly went to their hips, closing around the open holsters. The town fell silent, save for the soft rustling of a tumbleweed as it rolled by. The moment felt like an eternity, as they both waited for the other to make a move. In an instant, they both drew and fired at once, yet only one of the bullets hit their marks. The snake hit the ground with a *thud*, as a poorly-aimed bullet whizzed past Austin's ear. He deposited his big iron, his muzzle still smoking, back to his holster. With that he walked over to the scaly mass that lay in the dirt, and hoisted his adversary's green tail up, draping it over his shoulder. And, with a grunt, he started the walk to the sheriff’s office. As he dragged the snake, the slithery bugger coughed, a few drops of blood coming up. With a raspy voice, he managed weakly “nice ssssshhot” and with the end of the thought, he went limp.


America’s only slapstick comedy themed restaurant. My name’s Buster and I’ll be your server today. Oh don’t mind him, he’s not hurt, it’s all part of the experience. Bet he wishes they hadn’t ordered the soup of the day though ha-ha! What do you say we start you off with some waters? I’ll grab some menus too. I’ll just be righ- WHO PUT THAT BANANA PEEL THERE? Ha-ha, just kidding. I knew it was there. In fact I’m in charge of laying down all the peels before we open. No, no please don’t help me up. It’s all part of the experience. Just think about my physical therapist and lack of health insurance come tip time. Ha-ha, ok, enough lounging, how about those waters and menus? Oh and of course a basket of slapsticks. Which is what we call breadsticks. So just give me a mi- Oop! Ok I’m back! Sorry for the wait. Didn’t notice Curly was mopping the floor right behind me. Would it have killed him to put out a “Wet floor” sign? Jeez! Oh, the window? Don’t worry that’s stunt glass. We have some very good relationships with a few window guys in the area. You have to in the restaurant business. The fire hydrant? No that wasn’t a stunt fire hydrant. That was a real Brinks truck too. Remember that come tip time. Ha-ha! Anyway, those waters, menus, and slapsticks. Again sorry for the delay, you guys must be starving. I’ll comp some apps for the table. Don’t even worry about it. Is that my tooth? Thank you I’ll take that. I’ll bring some napkins too. Well if you insist, maybe I will sit down for a second. That wasn’t me by the way, this chair has a whoopee cushion sown in. Look, I’ll do it again. Well ok it’s deflated now, but you get the idea. Alright, I’m up! Waters, menus, slapsticks, comped apps, napkins, some gauze and a splint, coming right up! I’ll just- Wooooahhhh momma! Abbott, buddy. When you’re bringing out that flaming Baked Alaska can you look where you’re going? And pick your pants up! Speaking of, how the heck did you get a lobster down your pants? Just get that dessert to table seven while it’s still hot will ya! I’ll get “pinchy” here back to his tank. Sorry I didn’t catch that. My sleeve? My arms on fire? So it is! Those waters would come in handy right about now ha-ha! Excuse me a second. Flames really picked up for a while there. You can thank management for these polymer-blend uniforms, always good for a couple hijinks. Oh did I seem scared? Had you going there for a second huh? Just another day down in the salt mines, ha-ha. And in case you’re still wondering we do all our own stunts. Remember that come tip time, ha-ha! Burnt hair, yeah, hate that smell. While I was looking for the fire extinguisher I checked in on the kitchen. Apparently the chef ran into a full-length mirror again. It might be a few minutes till he’s up and moving. But worth the wait! And besides it’s all part of the experience. Listen to me blab, getting sidetracked again. Let me get you those waters, menus and apps. You guys can dine on “pinchy” while you wait. He got pretty singed while I tried to put the flames out. No please, I’m fine. Your concern is appreciated but this is all just part of the experience. Is that my blood? My most sincere apologies. Ok I’m just gonna- AHHH! Hey Harold. Had to throw that key-lime pie in my face didn’t you? Very funny. Had to be me, huh? Oh yes, I’m sure you were just in a hurry and tripped.


Sadie flipped her dark ponytail over her shoulder as she tipped an open bag of whole coffee beans over a paper filter on a scale. She tilted the bag back up intuitively, without watching, as the number on the scale ticked upward until the display read precisely 0.220. Her fingers flitted to the white tags to mark the date of the prepped beans. She wrote the date, placed the tag, then grabbed one of the filters, pouring it into the grinder. Sadie raised her voice over the hollow ting-and-shir of the beans hitting the burrs, “You know what they don’t tell you on that little white placard with the price and the witty little description of the thing at the Trader Joe’s?” “What?” Tyler answered flatly, dropping a square, plastic container of Perrier-softened cream cheese into the refrigerator door at the prep table. “Organic carrots grow , Ty.” Sadie’s face contorted, turning toward Tyler to see his reaction. “Really,” Ty replied coolly, grabbing a stack of decorative plates and the box of pastries that would top them. Headlights flashed across the lobby and flipped off quickly, followed by the muffled sound of a car door closing. “Yeah!” Sadie grabbed the filter and turned to the industrial machine. She plopped the filter into the coffee maker’s drawer and smoothed the edges of the filter against the sides of the reservoir. “I pulled a bag of ‘em out of my fridge last week and planted the suckers. Isn’t it a thing that you can only-- “Good morning!” Ty called out cheerily to a red-headed woman, bundled in a smart-looking wool coat and her teenage double as they approached the counter. “--eat the vegetables that are dead?” Sadie finished at volume, earning three blinks from the woman and an amused purse of the lips from Ty. “What can we make for you this morning?” Ty flashed his customer-facing smile. “Can I get a large black coffee and...” the woman looked at her daughter, “a medium caramel macchiato?” The daughter nodded, muttering a faint thank you . Ty rang up the order quickly and moved to the espresso machine. Sadie winked at the girl as she took a cup from beside the registers. She hummed lightly as she expertly maneuvered the cup beneath the stream of fragrant black from the industrial machine. She maneuvered the Airpot back without spilling a drop and popped a lid on the cup before placing the drink on the counter, making eye contact to let the woman know it was ready. The woman smiled and picked up the cup, taking it to a counter stocked for coffee customization. Sadie glanced at the prep table and rounded the corner to the back of the store for the silverware. “There’s a difference, right? Dead and alive veg?” “Um--” The voice sounded from the counter. “I mean, I didn’t want to get sick off of franken-freaky veggies. I’ve read that Arthur book.” Sadie raised her eyebrows conspiratorially at Ty as she passed. She dropped the knives into an empty plastic bin at the table, flipped the switch to begin the warmup of the toaster, and returned to the steaming coffee maker. “--excuse me. There isn’t anything in here.” The older red head bobbed close to the cashier counter apologetically as she held up a pitcher labeled ‘half and half.’ “Let me get that for you...” Sadie dumped the ice and filled the carafe before handing it back and returning to the coffee maker to dump coffee grounds and drop in a new filter. “The aardvark, Arthur? Wasn’t that a show?” Tyler finished placing the pastries and turned toward the front of the shop, trays in hand. “Oh, bye, now! Have a great day, guys!” Tyler called again to the women as they pushed open the door. He slid open the display case and arranged the plates of scones, danishes, and muffins to symmetric perfection. Sadie snapped the lid onto the Airpot, placing it at the self-serve station, then punched the full pot button over another, adjusting the new Airpot by sound as the nutty-sweet aroma of hot coffee wafted from the machine. She shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it was a book first. But, chicken--" “Welcome in!” Ty beamed as an older couple approached the counter. “--egg... who knows.” Ty took their order--another black coffee, a toffee latte, and a bagel--while Sadie looked over his shoulder and grabbed a cup to hand to one of the couple for his coffee. Ty handed back a debit card and moved to the espresso machine, tamping the portafilter before appraising Sadie behind steaming milk. “Okay, but Sade. Wasn’t that a kids’ show? Like, just for entertainment?” “Oh, definitely. But, come on! They had a book--episode, whatever--about bad carrots--” “You’re out of skim milk.” The more mutinous looking of the couple, a solid, plaid-attired man with a permanent scowl, thrust the carafe across the counter at Sadie’s back, shaking it impatiently, as she cut the bagel and tossed it on to the toaster’s conveyor belt. She whipped off the food safety gloves and took the carafe with a pleasant nod. “and you know it totally fits my brand as human against villainous fruits and vegetables. I’m thinking of starting a group... H-A-V-F-A-V,” Sadie said as she handed back the full carafe, donning new gloves and scooping the cream cheese as she waited for the bagel to move through the toaster's system. Ty laughed, “Not as catchy as some other acronyms--” “Sorry, can I get a straw?” The other half of the couple asked. Ty grabbed a straw, twirling it with his fingers and inclining his head theatrically as she took it. “--but I’m here for it.” “As I knew you would be,” Sadie grinned as she slid the bagel into a bag and handed off to the gruff-looking man. The odd couple settled into the plush seats in the corner of the coffee shop as Sadie turned back to the prep table. Her eyes unfocused for a moment, imagining the carrots growing in a time-lapse while brushing crumbs into her hand. She refocused, committing to the routine wipe down. “But, for real, they should put that on those little cards. I would like to know if my veggies have a life of their own.” Tyler rubbed his face, yawning then squinting into the lightening daybreak outside, “Yeah, it’s disconcerting when things don’t do what you’re expecting. Like... just sitting in your crisper drawer.” “Less that. More, so that I know to watch for it. Maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong, and that dastardly Arthur has prejudiced me about innocent survivor-veg. I need the empirical data, is all I’m saying.” Tyler shook his head as he settled behind the espresso machine. “Want a latte?” “Pour the shot or steam the milk first?” Sadie asked critically. “Milk in a pitcher, tamp the portafilter, pull the shot while steaming the milk,” Tyler replied evenly. Sadie lifted her chin to show her approving smile. “Sure, I’d love one. Three pumps hazelnut, one vanilla, sixteen ounces. Please.” The silence lengthened as Tyler set the latte-making in motion before-- “Empirical data? Really?” “Um, are you questioning my use of the term or my need for the thing?” Sadie refilled the mocha powder container on the counter from the plastic bag-lined box they kept beneath it. “I guess the need for the thing? Always so scientific?” Ty placed the drink on the corner of the façade that held the daily checklist, pointing to it conspicuously as Sadie glanced at him. Sadie nodded in acknowledgement, then tilted her head back, fingers turned up and witchlocked in mad scientist fashion. “Muahahaha! Question everything !” “Hear, hear!” The gruff man puffed through his mustache from the corner, raising his coffee toward the pair. The woman tapped his leg with the toe of her strappy boot, her eyes wide as she sipped her latte. “Hey, hey, Marv!” Sadie pointed to the man, then added. “Um, your name was on your debit card.” The man scowled, turning infinitesimally toward the woman. Sadie stifled a chortle. “Really, Sadie? Question everything ?” Ty asked as the door of the shop opened to admit a line of people. “Good morning, guys! Welcome!” “Absolutely.” Ty took the first round of orders, pausing to help make them before moving on to the next group. "Do you question your mom?" Sadie snorted. "Not to her face, but yeah." Ty gave an incredulous eyebrow raise. "No, seriously... I have been previously, um, shall we say, chagrinned by repeating things my mom has told me as unquestionable truths." “Well, what else do you question that might not seem questionable--” “Hey, can you make sure that’s two percent milk in there?” A customer in a chunky jacket interrupted. Ty smiled and nodded. “--other than vegetables... and your mom?” “Hmm. Actually, there has been something I’ve been questioning lately, but it isn’t a vegetable issue.” “--can I get the cream cheese on the side, please?” A trim woman with an enormous bag asked from across the self-service coffee station. Sadie held up a plastic single-serve container in confirmation before continuing, “My roommate told me her firm wants to hire me. I’m not even sure what they do .” “No way! Are you telling me you’re leaving me?” Tyler called out the name of a customer with their order. “No, I’m telling you I got a job offer from a company I don’t even know the name of .” Sadie paused for a moment in front of Ty, true inquiry on her face. “That’s weird, right? Not just crisper-drawer weird, but weird-weird?” “Yeah.” Ty took the next group’s order, then began the dance of putting it together again. “What does your roommate do?” “I think she’s an interpreter? She might be in finance though? Her major changed so many times in college, I had to stop keeping track. But she said not too long ago that she's glad she gets to use what she went to school for.” “Hey, can I get some help here? You’re out of whole milk.” A man with a cap pulled over his eyes waved the next carafe at Sadie. She dumped and filled it, then handed it back, putting on the customer-facing smile. “She’s certainly questionable.” Sadie said. Ty emphatically bobbed his head and called out the name of another customer. “I need a straw, too.” The man with the cap intoned. He snapped impatiently after a moment. Sadie moved the straw out of the customer's grasp, then winked as she handed over the straw. She furrowed her brow at Ty, “Actually, I should probably ask more there.” Sadie shook her head gently, pushing the roommate inquiries to the back of her mind as Marv made his way back to the counter. He was grimacing in what seemed to be an attempt at a pleasant way. Sadie smiled a wide amused grin at him, waiting for a request. He slid a small square of paper across the counter toward her. It’s time to go. Sadie held her grin while her brow crumpled quizzically. “Pardon?” The grizzled man raised an eyebrow and shifted his eyes to the right. It was at that moment that Sadie noticed every person in the shop--except for Ty--had stopped moving. The entire coffee shop was paused in bated breath for her reaction. Sadie’s mind quickly flipped through the clientele in the shop--the man with the oddly chunky jacket, the woman with the too-big bag, the guy with the hat pulled suspiciously down over his face... She skimmed each of them realizing that they hadn't stilled, but had begun moving with exaggerated slowness, the man with a hand in jacket, woman with her arm deep in her bag, hat fellow with both hands behind his back. The moment took too long. As the pause lengthened, a white smoke seeped from the corner where the woman had dropped her reserved pretense. She was still unlike the rest of them, her feet planted in a wide stance and a complex mask attached to her face. “Ty. Listen to me.” Sadie said evenly as she remained frozen, eyes fixed on the gas floating across the floor. “Run! Get out the back!” Marv’s grizzled grimace broke into a true smile as he chuckled, crouching slightly and side-eyeing the people at his back. “Welcome to day one.”


It was a long day at work which Susie loved doing just to get away from home. Susie's had so much responsibility on her that she didn't even feel married. Life started slowly consuming Susie and she had no outlet so she became bitter. Susie would sometimes cry in her room because she wasn't happy. Susie kept feeling like something was missing. Susie loved her family and was very loyal to them and her life was good. Susie was raised in the church all of her life and couldn't wait to stop going! Susie was made to go to church all the time as a child which made her faith strong. Susie had a lot of fear because of childhood issues and attacks on her as a young adult. Susie also had many close relatives to pass in her life such as dad, grandmother, uncle and so on. Susie's way of coping with these things was road rage and going off on others! Although this was toxic it was the only thing Susie could think of to do. She had forgotten about her faith along the way of life's struggles. Susie started to see the marriage was toxic and not serving her. Susie's son got shot by a group of troubled youth. This was the most traumatic experience of all. Susie didn't feel protected even with her husband. This was the straw that broke the camel's back! Susie knew this was a warning from God to change her life! Not only her life but her family's lives as well. What we do not only affects us but our loved ones as well. Susie cried and cried about this decision because she had been married for 17 years! Susie didn't know how she would support herself because she had become dependent on her husband's income. At this point Susie didn't care because she started back talking to God. Susie got a job and succeeded at providing for the household with God's help! Susie's lease was almost up and she knew she had to move from that house with those painful memories. Susie moved when her lease was expired and got an apartment instead of a house. Susie and her sons began healing from the trauma one day at a time. Susie struggled with wanting revenge on her son's attacker to the point she couldn't sleep. Susie knew in her spirit this wasn't right and had to teach her son who struggled with the same thoughts. Susie had to tell God about her family's struggles because only God could help them! Susie prayed constantly and worked and before she knew it those thoughts were gone. Susie still had to constantly teach this method of forgiveness and giving it to God to her. It was not easy to come back from a bullet but he still was alive. Susie was grateful God said no he will live and not die. Susie and her son went to trial that year and out of the four people involved they charged one and gave him four years. What a slap in the face that a person can try to kill you and get four years! This was truly a disgraceful system who showed Susie they didn't care. The bullet grazed his face and went into his right shoulder. Susie had to let go and let God to have peace and a somewhat normal life. Susie and her family continued to live life and receive life's blessings. They moved from those apartments and into a better area were we felt safe to finish healing our trauma. Susie stopped smoking weed and cigarettes which kept me in toxic situations longer. Susie's only brother had passed and Susie went into isolation. Susie was full of pain and remorse. One year after that Susie filed for her divorce once her baby boy was 18 years old. All he ever knew was mom and dad and by him being older it wasn't as painful. Susie cried so much and her heart was broken because she loved her husband! She realized that she had been putting him before herself and it didn't feel good! Susie was not being her true self by sitting back letting someone else run her life. Susie went through soul searching, meditation and shadow work! Susie read a book on boundaries and the full life frame work from Lifehack. Susie's life started slowly getting better. She didn't go outside much and she gave my husband back his truck. Susie felt like a loser and that she wasted all those years on him. She started watching psychics on utube and received answers she searched for her whole life. Susie's thought process and her heart started to change. She had visions of my brother, dad and grandmother in her dreams. Susie got to hug them to know they were okay and that helped her heal fast. Susie started to get more messages through the cards. She absolutely loved hearing from her Angels and loved ones. This spoke to Susie in a beautiful way and warned and gave Susie advice. These were things her intuition was already telling her! Susie began to see the beauty in everything and everyone. She recognize the blessing that came through the trauma of pain. It was a new beginning for her full of new possibilities! Susie thanked God for the air that she breathe, the trees,sun, moon, animals, water, and life! She thank God for my journey and the lessons from the journey! She thank God that she was always loved and supported by God even when she thought she was alone! Susie was grateful for forgiveness and love that she was given so she give it back! Instead of complaining about God's paradise that was created for us, Susie was in love with life again! Susie learned to never put anything before God and to appreciate all things in life. Susie no longer carried around resentment, anger or bitterness. Susie took on the fruits of the Spirit which are love, joy, peace, fruitfulness. Susie started helping others in her apartments with gifts, knowledge and love. Susie was usually introverted but decided to step out on faith. Fear was no longer apart of Susie's life because she knew God was always in control and not her! Elisa Wells