My hands were positively aching after so many hours writing non-stop. It was my fault for leaving the essay for the last foreseeable minute, but at least I was finally finished and dare I say the result wasn’t any bad, probably a 9.5, 10 if I haven’t spelt anything wrong, which I might have given the rush. It wasn’t until I’ve put all my pens and the excruciating amount of pages neatly into a folder that I noticed how difficult it was to see, for some reason; the reason being it was night time. How in heavens was it night time? I checked my phone not so long ago and it was something like 5pm! I was a bit thrown out for a while, but it soon turned into a panic, and then into a strange sense of shock which made me laugh incredulously at myself for managing something like this. Locked in a library, who would have thought? There probably was a way of getting out, so I tried no to panic again, had already done, didn’t enjoy. So I started wandering around looking for maybe some sing in the walls or bookshelves with instructions for this kind of situation, surely someone foresaw that a moment like this would come to be and left some words of guidance (we all know no one did it, but I was finding comfort in lying to myself, so don’t judge my awful coping mechanisms). It was about ten minutes into my search and I was already prepared to face the fact that I was screwed when I heard it: steps. Alright, there were steps on the library’s wooden floor not so far from me, maybe an employee, maybe a volunteer student that stayed after closing hours to rearrange the books? Well, it’s never too bad to hope! So I stalked into the direction I heard the noise from and looked around with narrowed eyes looking for someone in the dark. I didn’t find anyone after looking into maybe three or four corridors and was starting to think if I hadn’t imagined the sound or maybe it was only wind or some kind of thing when I fell to the ground with the force of a... well I don’t know a suitable analogy, but with a lot of force. Someone had pushed me. “Hey, who the hell are you?” a strangled voice carrying a forced bravado reached my ears, scaring the heck out of me. The silhouette lurking over me in the dark was thinner than me, if an inch taller, and it seemed tense. “Sorry, I was just looking for a way out. I thought you could help.” There was a silent moment where the silhouette stayed put and then it’s shoulders sank. “For the love of... don’t go staking people like that, I thought you were going to murder me!” the person stretched a hand in my direction and helped me get out of the floor. “Sorry again, I was just looking for a way out.” “You said it already.” they said, but without bite to it “Happens that I’m locked too, I’m no knight in shining armour, sorry to disappoint.” We fell silent for an awkward moment, and then they started talking again. “So... I’m Misha, and you are?” “Panicking” I joked, starting to walk again, Misha followed me so I guessed it wasn’t as bad a joke as I thought. “Sorry, I’m Hanna, I was doing a last minute essay and lost track of time.” “One would think they’d check for students before closing the library, apparently not.” Misha said still following me, me, who had not a single idea of where I was going or what I was going to do. “Well I was somewhat hidden behind the last row of bookshelves, I don’t like sharing tables with other people, I get too distracted.” I explained. Even if someone ought to have checked, I couldn’t blame them for not wanting to go to the farthest part possible in the building “And you? How did you get locked?” “Oh...” Misha seemed to level answering or not and I was about to tell they didn’t need to when they started again “I fell asleep.” they said “I know, I’m the absolute stereotype for ‘I got locked in a place’ possible.” “Well at least it wasn’t your fault, I’m just locked because I was too desperate and didn’t see the time pass.” I assured them and enjoyed the not so awkward silence that followed. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Even if it would have been better if Misha had been a kind of volunteer or something, but at least I had company, and it’s a lot easier to get yourself together if the other option was to have a panic attack in front of a complete stranger. “So you have a plan?” Misha asked in a somewhat nonchalant way, but I could tell they were, if not as worried as me, at least a bit worried. “As a matter of fact I don’t, but I’m currently working on it.” I tried to pass some confidence but was loosing it by the minute “And anyway, don’t you have some idea? We could come up with something together, I don’t know.” I failed at not sounding pressing. “I don’t even have charge on my phone to look where I’m going in this blessed place, do you think I have any idea of what to do? Jokes on you, you got locked with the worst side kick in existence.” I couldn’t tell if the self deprecating humor was only a joke or a real opinion, but got too distracted with the realization the comment lead me to. “Oh, you’re a genius! I have a cellphone!” I said, and the silhouette stopped walking beside me “A charged cellphone!” I finished, and Misha huffed a half exasperated laugh at me. “You are kidding me that you had light all this time and didn’t bloody use it?” they sounded annoyed but also amused at my clumsiness. “See, it’s what I said, we could come to a solution together much more easily.” and then I turned on the light. ‘Oh no’ was the first thing to cross my mind upon seeing the silhouette gain a real face. Misha was not only the stereotype of ‘I got locked somewhere’ as they were all the possible things a troublemaker could be. Piercing in the septum, checked; heavy dark make up, checked; messy although stylish red hair; checked, and I’m not getting started in their clothes. They couldn’t be more different than me. “Oh, so you’re a cute one.” they said, without much of a reaction on their face. “Excuse me?” I was a bit shocked, not for the first time in that night, and probably not the last. “You know, the type that gets the good grades and doesn't date, but would have plenty of options if they wanted.” it had to be a joke, so I just dismissed it and followed suit. “We have light, so now there’s no excuse for you to not start mulling up a plan with me.” I said, ignoring the intimidation that had no right to be creeping up my stomach, and continued walking, to where I still had zero idea. We continued for two or three minutes, I secretly considering broking some windows to get out as fast as possible. Not that I was uncomfortable any more, after a bit of deliberate consideration I realized that Misha had been nothing but nice up until now and even if they looked the complete opposite of me it didn’t mean they were going to be unpleasant to be around. God knows if it weren’t for them I would be curled in the floor sobbing. We passed some tables in the main study area of the library, and Misha started talking again. “Maybe you can call someone. Do you have anyone that lives nearby? A teacher’s number?” it was an awfully good idea, shame I was useless in this situation. “Don’t live with anyone, I’m here with scholarship.” I shrugged trying to convey how sorry I was in my facial expression, which probably looked like a creature dyeing in pain because Misha rapidly shook their head and said it wasn’t a problem and we would think of something else. I still felt guilty though, and my shoulders melted with relief when I came with a solution of my own. “Maybe we can call someone. Maybe there’s a contact card or something in the librarian’s counter, or a sheet of paper on some wall with contact numbers.” I said, full of blind hope. “Wouldn’t it be the library’s number, though? Wouldn’t it ring the phone inside?” they had a point, I’ve had to admit, and my face fell again “Or maybe there’s some teacher’s contact or something too, we aren’t in any place to choose what to do, so let’s give it a go.” Misha added, and I was beginning to think they were only trying to validate my suggestion rather they had any faith on it. That didn’t change the fact that we went straight to the librarian’s counter and made as much of a mess as possible looking for some way of contacting someone outside to hopefully be rescued before dawn. I had found cards of pizza delivery service’s and a bunch of different brochures for pasta restaurant and was starting to get frustrated at myself again when Misha called my attention. “Hey, can I get some light here? I think I found something.” They had found something indeed. It was a folder with some students profiles, much like curriculums or the thingies you gave to your teachers when you would start a project for a science fair or something. They were about the current library’s volunteers. “Oh, thank God, you saved us!” I said, already looking for contact numbers and instead finding e-mail addresses on each profile. “I guess we can try? There’s bound to be at least one that isn’t sleeping yet, right?” Misha offered, I was was thanking her from the bottom of my heart for being so positive in a situation like this. “Sure, if we’re lucky enough there’s someone still awake at one in the morning.” I replied, and Misha looked at me with wide open eyes. “One in the morning? How can it be, you wouldn’t have stayed doing your stuff at pitch dark like this.” they had a point again, and it was annoying that it was true, I shouldn’t have kept writing, but my panicked mind turned it possible. “Well if it’s any better, I realized it at eleven, and the lights were only turned off at about ten thirty when they closed.” “It’s still half an hour in the dark.” they were trying to no laugh, I could tell, and I was starting to want to laugh too “I can’t understand your will to finish this essay of yours.” I shrugged, trying to stop smiling at my ridiculousness and started typing for all the five different students currently working in here. Hello, sorry to interrupt your nightly endeavors, but I’m Hanna from the English course, and I’m currently locked inside the library. I would appreciate if you could help me get out, by coming here or pointing me a way to unlock the door, if possible. I understand it’s a bother, and I’m deeply sorry, but I need to be at my class at eight and can’t spend the night here. Sincerely, Hanna. “What do you think?” I asked, showing Misha my draft. “It looks like a bloody apology letter more than a ‘please rescue me’ cry.” they said honestly, and I knew it was true, but I kinda owed it to whomever helped us a big apology and maybe even a fruit basket for thanks. “Well, it’s not like it’s not my fault anyway, and if someone helps us we’re kinda bothering them at one in the morning, aren’t we?” I know I would be frustrated, even if I wouldn’t show and instead try to be as polite and nice as possible in a situation like this. “I think you have a point.” Misha scratched at her neck and shrugged “Send it then, to this ones.” they pointed at a note they’ve made while I typed furiously at my phone with all the contacts. We sent the e-mails and spent maybe ten minutes looking at each other like weirdos, when Misha finally sighed. “Ok, we’re going to have to wait for a reply anyway, and there’s probably not another way of getting out, so we should at least get comfortable, huh? Like, we’re standing here so long my legs are actually hurting.” “One would think you would be less tired, having slept the last few hours away.” I joked, but followed them to a reading area close to the more recent books in the library. “Oh, so you’re not so nice then.” they said, and I could see their smile but felt guilty anyway. “Sorry, I didn’t intend to be mean.” we sat face to face and I dropped my phone at the floor between us so we could see the same way. “Relax, princess, I’m just joking.” they raised their hands in the air “And anyway I really did sleep for a while, I was hiding from my last class and thought it would be nice to read something to pass the time. Maybe getting locked is a punishment from the universe.” “Very funny joke the universe played at us then, me doing late assignments and you ditching school.” conversation seemed easier now somehow, and the awkwardness was hardly there anymore. I was surprisingly comfortable and dare I say enjoying the company somewhat. Maybe fifteen minutes later my phoned buzzed. Misha looked at me with their eyebrows high on their face and a glint of hope in their eyes. I picked my phone hurriedly and unlocked, reading the notifications like a dying man in the desert finding a well. Hi, here’s Mathew. No problem about the hour, I was working so apologies for the late answer. There’s a set of keys in the back office close to the bathrooms, the smaller one opens the back door that leads to the patio, as the front one will only allow you to access school and I think it wouldn’t be of much help. Anyway, I hope you get home safe, the gate to the parking lot is always unlocked so you can get out from there ;) Att, Mathew. I read the reply to Misha, that was already standing up and passing around waiting for me to join them. We ran to the bathrooms and found the office door, half laughing half panting from our hurried steps. The keys were fairly easy to find and I was scowling at myself for not have thought of something this obvious, but couldn’t do anything really as we were already leaving anyway. We ran again like madmen to the gate that lead outside, laughing so much I was already feeling my ribs hurt. We stopped for air at the gate and laughed our relief off our shoulders till we were almost normal looking again. There was a small silence where we just looked at each other before I felt a sudden urge to talk. “Turns out you weren’t as much of an asshole as I thought” I said. “Yeah, you weren’t so awful either” they replied. We looked at each other again and smiled. And that’s how I met my best friend.


Spelunking was never one of our strong-suits. Heck, we had never even attempted it before, but we were an adventurous duo ready for anything at a moments notice. Him more than I-- I was far less spontaneous before we met-- now I would follow that man to the ends of the earth. That’s how in love I was with him. His exuberance, his passion, his raw sexual energy just drove me into a frenzy every time I laid eyes on that rock-hard, calendar pin-up quality body of his. Loving him was easy. He never fought with me, never yelled, never even raised his voice. He was the epitome of refinement. The blueprints for perfection. He was an awe-inspiring human being who drew attention everywhere he went. All the women wanted him, and all the men wanted to be him. But I was the luckiest of all because I got to be with him. It was rare to see him frazzled, it was even rarer to seen him bewildered. What’s the difference between those two adjectives? I haven’t a clue. But for some reason, one seems worse than the other. The point is, seeing him frantically poking and prodding at those walls in that cave, looking for a way out, shook me to my very core. Up until that point, I had never seen him panic. Never, not once. He was always master of his domain. So, it was a little nerve wracking seeing him not completely in control. By his estimates, we had a little less than 5 minutes left of oxygen before we would both suffocate and die. “Look for clues!” He screamed at me. “Clues?” I asked. “Clue!” He fired back. “There has to be clues somewhere.” I took a step back and stared at the hieroglyphics on the wall. Surely, there’s a message amongst those images. Too bad I lacked the mental acuity to decipher that code. I’ve never been good at puzzles. “Three minutes!” He screamed. This wasn’t going to end well. I don’t even know how we wound up in this predicament. My mother tried to warn me, “That man is too wild,” she’d say. “He lives too close to the edge and one of these days he’s going to fall off. Do you really want to be with him when he does?” She didn’t understand him. She didn’t understand me. Most notably, she didn’t understand love. My parents were never affectionate towards each other. Most of the time, it didn’t even seem like they were husband and wife. They always put off more of a roommate vibe than anything else. I always told myself that wasn’t going to be me. I wasn’t going to live in a loveless marriage. I was going to find someone who made me feel special. Someone who looked at me like I was the only woman on earth. Someone who’d lift me up and pin me up against on a wall because they found me so irresistible. “We don’t have any time left!” He shouted as he buried his lips around my neck and ripped apart my blouse. I moaned in ecstasy. He lifted my skirt and pulled down my panties. “Oh, God!” I shouted out towards the heavens. If we we’re going out, we we’re going out in a blaze of glory. He penetrated me deep, and I swear I saw god. I began reaching toward the light. That’s when I noticed the lights were less heavenly looking and more fluorescent. Suddenly a voice boomed down from the skies, “We’re calling the police,” the voice said in an authoritative tone. So, you see, Timmy, your grandfather and I are very sorry, but we can’t come to your birthday party. We’ve been banned for life from that particular Escape Room.


The room smelled of bleach, sterile and arcid. I sat on a chair that was designed, first and foremost to be looked at. I wondered how I’d gotten here. My last job was a repetitive lot of 30 second phone phone calls and paperwork. That was it. Any sensible person would have held onto that little over paid position - but I was bored within a week. So there I sat, uncomfortable and slightly dazed. (The fluorescent lighting was really doing a number on me)  The room looked just as sterile as it smelled. White walls, white tiled floor and that awful lighting! It even felt like a hospital - it wasn’t.  After waiting patiently for fifteen minutes, I started rubbing my thumb on the top of my jeans. I hated these first days at a new job, the whole thing was such a long process of half truths and grovelling. At least it’d be over soon. Just as I began to drift off, I saw the doorway across from me actualise and my interviewer step through. She was one of the most strikingly beautiful people I’d ever seen.  “Thank you so much for coming, and thanks for your patience Mr. Talbot”  I had to put on a happy face despite myself.  “No worries” I chirped back.  “I’m sure you’re interested in seeing what this job’s all about, so lets get started! - If you’ll follow me we can begin immediately.”  I squirmed in my chair - I’d always found it hard to speak to women, the attractive ones most of all.  “Sure thing” I squeaked back and scurried silently through the door behind her.  The next room, somehow was even more sterile than the first. The same faint air of bleach in the room, the same tiles, the same damn lighting. And not a stick of furniture, save one white stool that rose out of the centre of the room as if it was a part of the floor. The walls were rounded so once the door closed it seemed like one continuous surface.  “Here,” she said - gesturing to the stool “Is where you’ll be doing the majority of your work with us.”  Opposite the stool was a long, thin window - the kind you see in interrogation rooms.  “As I’m sure you know already,” she continued “your main role here will be observation”  “Yes” I stammered “but what exactly will I be observing?”  “We have a series of new patients here, all S class psychopaths - we’re trialing a new drug to hopefully help them reintegrate into society.”  A wry grin crossed my face -  “Ha” I thought “reintegrate into society”  That explained the waiver and the non-disclosure agreement and layers of locked doors. Com-Sec was up to something. Either they were finding a way to chemically lobotomise these “psychopaths” or they were creating mind-wiped soldiers to fight on the Kashmir front. Whatever it was, the boys at news net would pay handsomely to know. Suddenly it all rushed back to me. The room, the girl, the job.  “So what am I supposed to be monitoring?”  “We’d like you to watch each subject and write what you see, simple as that. Because of the experimental nature of the procedure, its best if you are told as little as possible, so your observations aren’t biased.”  “Fair enough” I muttered  “We picked you because of your background in psych-analytics, no need to overthink this”  “OK, sounds simple” I replied, trying in vain to sound neutral and professional.  “Great, well if theres nothing else you want to know, lets get started!”  “I hate to ask... but whats the rate of pay for this position?” that was the big one. Glad I managed it.  “12 gigacredits per day with a 5 - pent bonus at the completion of your 3 year contract” she said flatly.  My eyes widened. With that kind of money I could move out of my shoebox in Stately and move somewhere nice. I could get mom out of the retirement village - with just enough left to feed my growing list of vices. I did my best to sound nonchalant  “Sounds fair”  “Well if you have no other questions - lets begin.”  She raised a desk from the floor like quicksilver and handed me a small black tablet and stylus. “Your first session will last for 5 hours - I’ll be in the next room, if you have any trouble just hit the button on your desk and I’ll come right in.”  Then, as if by magic she was out of the room as soon as she had spoke, with the door quickly deacutalizing behind her. At the same time, the window in front of me parted, slowly revealing an impish man squatting in the middle of the room across from mine. He wore a faded blue shirt and ripped blue jeans - his face was a scrappy hedge maze of dark, scraggly hair which seemed to hang from his face like moss. At first, he sat there, motionless - knees bowed apart like some great awful swan. He slowly raised his head, and if it wasn’t for the 6 inches of mirrored perspex, I could swear he was looking right at me. It seemed like his old, tired eyes were trying to find some way out of that 4x4 room. I began my notes. As I began to write, he began to mumble. An incoherent mess of syllables - I couldn’t tell what language it was, if any.  “Where do they find these people!” I thought to myself “Surely he’s got some sort of complex.” I had to feel sorry for him.  But I could scarcely say he was human. The more I wrote, the more he mumbled.  “We make a good team” I chuckled to myself.  Not that there was much to write about. After a few minutes he began pacing back and forth - muttering gibberish as he went.  “At least they’ll get there monies worth” I cackled to myself.  I’ve never written such a detailed account of something so ordinary - but it was their money and I wasn’t complaining. After half an hour of pacing and mumbling “Scabbers” - as I’d politely dubbed him, seemed finally to have tired himself out. He lay on the pristine white floor, splayed out like the cover model of some forlorn magazine waiting for their close up. I breathed a sigh of relief - finally, I could stop writing this meaningless drivel and have some time to myself. My mind drifted to thoughts of the credits and what I’d do with them. Take a shuttle and see the games maybe - this time of year both teams put their best foot forward to try and score the best sponsors, and you could be sure there’d be a heavy weapons expert and a ju jitsu master or two thrown in to really get the crowd going.  “Fuck! Where’d Scabbers get to?” I thought  My first day on the job and I’d already lost my patient! And he was in a locked room no less!  “Ah” I breathed a sigh of relief, he was just sitting directly below the window. Must’ve snuck off for some private time.  “Mustn’t scare me like that old chum!” I chortled  I noticed the pool of blood on the floor and instantly my confidence evaporated. How had he managed to hurt himself? There wasn’t anything sharp in the room - hell, the room itself didn’t even have corners. I thought about calling in my interviewer, but decided against it. It didn’t matter, he didn’t look too hurt. What was important was the notes.  I started writing again. As I started writing, he started mumbling. I noticed something - his hand was moving. He was writing something on the floor  \- M - A  Jesus, in his own blood - she wasn’t kidding about these people. Well, whatever he was writing must’ve mattered a whole lot to him, he kept going.  M - A - L  He ran out of blood and then I got to see how he’d done it - he’d cut open his hand with his filthy nails.  Then after getting more “ink” he was straight back to work. I looked down at what he was writing.  M - A - L - C - O - M - T - A - L - B - O - T  My name.  It definitely put a damper on my first day at Com - Sec. I’d had about enough. I thought I’d be getting these credits easy and now I had some half baked experiment scribbling my name across the floor in blood. Time to hit the button and take my smoke break.  I felt the rigid surface of the button slide underneath my finger. Then, all at once - blackness. Where was the door? I stood up and groped the inky darkness around me.  Nothing.  No handle. No doorframe. No corners even.  I sat there for what seemed to be an eternity - it was probably closer to 30 minutes. I heard the muffled sounds of footsteps through the wall.  “Thank God.” I exclaimed  Little miss pantsuit is finally here to turn on the lights and get me out of here. Across from me, a long thin window slowly opened. Through the wall I can just barely make out the conversation -  “Your first session will last for 5 hours, I’ll be in the next room, if you need anything just hit the red button.


<This is a true story, although don't expect much excitement> "That stack of pallets is much too high..." Those who have worked in warehouses will tell you: the thoughts that consume your mind soon become as plain and dreary as the warehouse itself; Observations so boring, so flavorless, that they start to physically pain and strain your body. But that stack of pallets was stacked much too high. Typically only 10 were allowed in a stack but this particular stack had atleast 20. It towered over the smaller stacks of pallets surrounding it and was the focal point of my day as I ran a pallet-jack back and forth. I was tasked with taking pallets full of trash and dumping them into a trash bin outside one of the loading docks. I had a guy named Danny helping me. One of those old coke-head types. Had 7 kids and a full gray beard down to his chest. He was outside in the outhouse, likely taking bumps off his car key and chain-smoking cigarettes, which was fine with me. Mind-numbing tasks in a mind-numbing environment was strenuous enough, forced small-talk was something I could do without. "Man, that stack of pallets is way too high. How did they even get them that high? Must have used a forklift." I thought to myself as I again passed the tower of sloppily stacked wood. Ole Danny boy eventually came back inside, with a pep in his step and a Mountain Dew in his pocket. The man looked and acted like absolute death when he was off his high but was a whistling, singing, showman when he finally got his fix. "John ask about me?", he asked as I was pulling a full pallet of trash towards the loading dock. '"Nah, haven't seem him in a minute, you're good." "Man I don't know what it is but I've had to piss like twelve times today!" Danny said while he helped me tilt the pallet full of trash into the dumpster outside. Messes off bungled up plastic wrap, cardboard, and bits of broken wood would spill out into the dumpster and either me or Danny would hop outside on top of it to stomp it down and make room for more. Every now and then Ole Danny boy would find something in the dumpster that wasn't warehouse trash and set it off to the side so he could take it home later. "Man these things ain't ever even been opened!" He said cheerily as he neatly stacked about a half dozen boxes of Post-it notes on the outside edge of the dumpster. "Hell yeah, man!", I responded plainly. Then there was something that caught my eye; on top of the pile of trash had just been dumped out was an old gray shirt, bungled up and dirty. "Someone lost a shirt!", I pointed to the trash below me as I stood on the loading dock. Danny sloppily and slowly maneuvered his way through the garbage to where I was at. He picked up the old shirt, dusted it off with a hard hit against the dumpster, and gave it a thorough examining before ultimately shrugging and tossing it back into the garbage. "Well that's probably what happened to my hat. Trashed then dumped.", I thought to myself. It was a plain red cap that I wore on my first day of work. I didn't know the job required a hard-hat so I ended up discarding it on the floor against the wall and completely forgot about it by the time I had left that day. The next day it was gone. It's a hat I'd like to have kept too. I like plain colored hats and this one my girlfriend had bought me during a trip to D.C. Nonetheless, I chalked it up as a loss and didn't give it much thought. But anyways, what happened next is the whole reason for me writing this story. To most, the way this story concludes will seem odd and anticlimactic. To others, and again, probably much fewer, the series of events that follow will be extremely relatable. Ole Danny boy and I walked back to the other side of the warehouse to retrieve another pallet of trash, and in doing so, we passed the stack of pallets that was stacked much too high. "Man.", I thought to myself, "This stack of pallets is...what the..." For there, on the very top of the tower of pallets I had passed and looked over a dozen times that day, folded in between the wood, sticking out like a sore thumb...was my bright red cap.


"By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire", I read aloud four times over before I closed my notebook. "I need a break, Chance", I told my Pit Bull pup. "Let's go for a walk." He jumped up from his bed and spun circles as I got up to grab his leash. Chance was very well trained already and sat down at the door while I hooked his leash to his collar. He stayed sitting until I told him to come on after I opened the door. Chance stayed by my side the whole walk to the park, stopping when I did, and never strayed too far away. Once at the park, we stopped in front of the sign that read, "park name", and I unhooked his leash. He stayed sitting right beside me until I told him to go play. I laughed as he ran straight for the mud puddle and jumped in. I shook my head as I walked over to a bench and pulled out my phone before I sat down. Chance barked excitedly as another pup came barreling over to the mud puddle. She was a beautiful brindle Great Dane, about a year and a half old. Her tail was wagging as she greeted Chance, then she ran over to me, sniffed my hand I held out to her, and ran back to Chance. A young girl came running over, laughing, and jumped into the mud puddle with the pups. "Cindy," a man exclaimed, snickering, "what are you doing?" The little girl laughed as she rolled over and said, "Look Daddy, I'm a puppy, too!" Chance had come back over and layed down in front of me. Cindy looked over at him and tried to get him to go back into the puddle to play, but wouldn't leave my side. Her dad told her to play with Lilly and that he might come back to play in a bit. The man looked at me and nodded, making Chance growl a little bit, and Lilly stand still. I nodded in return and told Chance down to make him stop growling. Cindy laughed and grabbed at Lilly to play and missed, landing in the puddle and splashing her father. "Be careful, Cindy," her father told her, "this is an expensive shirt your mother bought me. "She is not my mother", she shot back at him firmly. "You made my Mommy leave me", she whispered as she started to cry. Lilly came over, licked her face making Cindy smile again, and continued to play in the mud once her tiny human was no longer sad. Chance still stayed by my side as I sat there a bit longer before getting up to go down to the lake's beach. Once Chance set paw on the sand, he put his nose to the ground and was on the hunt, for what I thought, would be a stick. About seven feet away from me, he started to wine and dig into the ground. Just a little over two feet down into the hole he was digging, his tail started to wag as he pulled up a bone. He proudly presents me with his tiny bone and I quickly realize it's a human's finger. Chance went back to the hole to dig some more and pulled out a small portion of a hand with two fingers still attached to it. I pulled him away, hooked his leash back to his collar, and called the police. They asked me to stay by the hole so they can easily find it, and so I can keep everyone else away from it until they arrive. The first officer that approached me was five feet and three inches tall, about one hundred and forty pounds, jet black hair cut just above her shoulders, with green eyes, and light freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. Her partner was a taller man, with bland features, and stayed farther behind her, scowling. "I'm Officer Willow," she said pointing behind her, "and this is my partner, Officer Davis. He's staying farther behind because this is a test for me. It's still my first week in the field." "I'm Billy and this is Chance", I responded. "He's the one that found the bone and the partial, unattached hand." Officer Willow asked me a few questions and then asked for my information, so she could contact me if she had further questions. Officer Davis nodded before turning to follow Officer Willow back to the car to call in the forensics team. Officer Davis came back with stakes and Police: Do Not Cross tape to tape off the hole first. They would expand it later on as they uncovered more body parts if they needed to. I took Chance home, carrying him inside to the bathroom to clean him up, so he didn't track mud all over the apartment. After his bath, and my shower, I fed him before making dinner for myself. By the time I had dinner cooked and ate, it was eleven thirty-seven at night. I took Chance out to go potty before curling up in my bed for the night. My alarm goes off in the morning and I roll over, slamming my hand down on the snooze button to shut it up. Chance jumps up on the bed and pulls at my hair whining. I look up at him and he licks my face. I shove him to the side and sit up, groaning. He curled up in my lap as I gave him his good morning loves. I smiled down at him as he playfully nipped at my hands, his tail wagging. After a bit, I patted the bed beside me and he jumped over so I could get up. I got dressed and went into the kitchen after grabbing my phone off of the charger. I held the power button to turn it on as I placed it on the kitchen table so I could feed Chance his breakfast and give him fresh water. He went running into the kitchen and out the back doggie door to do his business as my phone rang. I laughed as I answered without looking at the caller ID. "Mr. Young," a gruff voice said on the other side, "It's Officer Davis. I need you to come to the police station so we can get your fingerprints for elimination, as well as your dog's DNA." "Of course, I'll be there with Chance as soon as I'm able to." "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Young." "It's not a problem", I responded. We hung up and I got Chance ready to leave. Once at the station, I asked for Officer Willow or Officer Davis, and I was asked to have a seat, that one of them would be with me shortly. The receptionist saw that I had Chance with me and asked if she could pet and give him a treat. I smiled and told her yeah. I told Chance to behave and he sat still. She held out her hand that didn't have the treat in it for him to sniff. He licked her and she gave him the treat while scratching his head. "Mr. Young, thank you for coming in so soon with Chance." I nodded in response. He led the way into the main conference room where Officer Willow had everything ready to get Chance's DNA and my fingerprints. I sat across from Officer Willow and she asked for my right hand first. Once she was done collecting her elimination evidence from us, Officer Davis walked us back out to the lobby and gave Change some water before we left. "Thank you again, for coming in, Mr. Young", he said as I led Chance out the door. I smiled and nodded and continued to walk to my truck. I stopped about three feet away from the door to the police station and turned around. Officer Davis was still standing there and his head inclined, as if to ask me what was on my mind. I told him how Chance had acted around the man at the park the previous day, and that he'd never acted that way around anyone before. He then asked me if I'd sit down with a sketch artist to describe him. "When would be a good time for me to come and do that?" "You can come back in right now and do it if you want to. I'll watch Chance for you", he said smiling. "Alright, I'm okay with that", I replied as I walked back in. Officer Davis took Chance's leash as he held open the door to Mr. Brinks' office. He introduced me and told him what I was there for. Mr. Brinks gave a small nod, waved me on in, and told me to have a seat after shaking my hand in greeting. He grabbed his pencils and drawing pad, then turned to me and had me describe in as much detail as I could remember of the man. "He was shorter than I am, about five and a half feet tall, a little on the chunky side with about a four inch beer-gut, dirty blonde hair, buzzed three inches short all the way around his head, and hazel eyes. He had a tat on his upper left arm of an anchor, freckles up and down both arms, and a good sized birthmark on his right calf that looked like a witch's hat." He flipped the pad over for me to look once he was done and I nodded, telling him that's the guy. He nodded in response and asked if there was a little girl with him. I nodded as confusion spread across my face. He looked at me and explained that he personally knew the little girl because she tries to run away a lot. "Why does she do that", I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. "She blames her father for her mother leaving", he explained. "Her mother left two years ago and hasn't tried to get into contact with her since. But, between you and I, it's better that way. She wasn't a very good woman or mother, though, rumor has it that she left to get better for her daughter." A knock on the door halted our conversation as Officer Davis opened the door to tell us that the body has been identified as Mrs. Katie Hilliard, Cindy's mother. Mr. Brink shook his head, sighed, and said a small prayer for his small friend, Cindy. Officer Davis asked me if I knew any of them personally and I told him I did not. He nodded, handed me Chance's leash back, and walked me back out to the lobby. He once again thanked me for my help and I nodded. I helped Chance get into the truck and as I was getting in myself, I felt a sharp pain enter my back, I heard Chance bark, and Officer Davis yell freeze. I looked down and all I could see was blackness as I fell to the ground, never to see the light of day again. A week later, the murderer of Mrs. Katie Hilliard and myself, was caught and arrested. It was Mr. George Hilliard, Mrs. Katie Hilliard's husband, and Cindy Hilliard's father. Cindy Hilliard was placed in foster care until she was adopted by a couple of the name, Vance.


Oh, no. The screen turned black and on the very top “ impostor” was written in dark red. Oh, no. I’m literally the worst impostor ever. The screen should know that. Then the screen turned into the map where us Among Us players travel through the map and accomplish our tasks to finish without getting killed by The Impostor. Namely, me. Of course, I was The Impostor, so I cold only fake the tasks. I pretended to get to work and used my joystick to proceed to different rooms. When I was finally alone with another player in a room doing tasks, I pressed hard on my “KILL” button and I saw the blood squirting out of the body I just killed, and breaking in half. The top half of the body fell and let me see the one thick bone sticking straight out of the bottom half. I quickly headed to the vents to hide from the players who might be able to see me and vent to the far side of the ship. I vented into the room hidden from security and started to fake my tasks again. Soon enough, the body I killed was reported. Immediately, players started asking where the dead body was, including me. The player who reported the dead body confessed that he forgot the name of that specific room in the ship. Of course, everyone would know that is suspicious. So I was completely ready to vote off that player when the time came for voting, but suddenly another player wrote that I was suspicious because almost everyone was in groups and they stuck together and traveled through the ship except me and a few others. The player wrote that I was acting the most suspicious. “Me? And do you have proof?“ I confidently wrote back. “Didn’t I just write it?” He replied. Oh, no. Not again. Hurry, I need to write back to pretend to prove myself innocent. Hurry up. ”Oh, you call that proof? That’s proof for me being suspicious. You don‘t have proof for me being the impostor, do you?” “You know, usual innocent people would write like “No, I swear I’m not impostor“ or “No but I’m not” but you just try to play it cool. Like it’s fine if you get voted off because you don’t care. Innocent people don’t do that.” The time to vote is coming. You can’t fake or pretend no more. Just give it up. Give it in. Voting time comes and all the players vote for me. Heck, even I did. There’s no doubt that I‘m officially the worst liar and impostor ever. I soon got ejected out of the ship and the game ended. Then, I didn’t really feel about playing anymore. I started surfing the internet about information for being a good impostor. I figured out that you have to talk, vote and accuse as if you were a Crewmate. Be as honest as possible about your own whereabouts, and don’t be too aggressive. If you start yelling “it’s blue” without a good reason, others will look at you with suspicion. Even if your early game aggression leads to another players eviction, you will have drawn attention to yourself and likely be next to go. Furthermore, Crewmates are less inclined to suspect you if they think you’re a bit of a noob. An occasional “who should I vote for?” or “I don’t know the name of the room” are subtle ways to help you achieve this. But do not exaggerate; players who continuously emphasize that this is “my first time playing, please don’t kill me” are bound to get voted out. You want to stir the conversation in the right direction, so don’t wait for things to go wrong. After a murder, you might want to casually ask another player where he came from, or what tasks he did. Crewmates cast accusations all the time, so joining in is not necessarily suspicious. If you do so early on, Crewmates may pick up on your accusation and start suspecting your victim. This rule is even more important when you encounter a witness. If another player saw you near a dead body or even kill someone, you know they are going to accuse you. A defensive position is usually not a strong one, so try to either accuse them first or explain yourself before they get the chance. For example, if Pink saw you walking close to the body before he reported, subtly mention that it was not Pink, as you both just walked into the room where the body was found. If Pink then starts questioning you, you have already explained yourself and are therefore more reliable. As soon as I bundled up that much information, I figured I was ready. So I pressed on my Among Us app and joined a game. I was feeling ready. For the first time, I was feeling confident about being The Impostor. As usual, The screen turned black and on the very top “ impostor” was written in dark red. Then the screen turned into the map where us Among Us players travel through the map and accomplish our tasks to finish without getting killed by The Impostor. Namely, me. I killed another body and left it there while I vented to a different room. Again, the dead body was reported too soon. When it was time for the emergency meeting, I followed all the directions of the tricks as being The Impostor. I accused many of being The Impostor, and people listened to me. “You’re a bad liar, you know.” A player tells me. Wait, me? Does he know that I’m the impostor? How come? ” You‘re a bad liar .” He repeats. ”You keep accusing people. That’s fine, but too many. If you want to be a good impostor, then you just have to play it cool while pretending to believe that innocent players are the impostors.“ But I followed all the instructions of my tricks. Everyone believed me except him. I guess that some people will always not believe. I am a bad liar.


Beth Collins had always hated sharing her anniversary with Valentine’s Day. Everything would be decked in ostentatious shades of pink and red. It was a day when all the restaurants were filled with starry-eyed lovers. It was a day that was not solely for her and her love, but a day which had been stolen from them. Zane loved it. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world, watching her scowl at the decorations in the store as their anniversary approached. Beth thought he would never stop teasing her for the fact that she was the one who woke up that morning, shook his shoulder, and told him she wanted to get married that day. And realized only once the vows had been exchanged that it was the day of love. She set out a baby blue tablecloth. She refused to adhere to the colors of the holiday, and it almost matched the blue of Zane’s eyes. He might have enjoyed the double celebration, but she refused to. “We’re not going to a restaurant full of other couples for our anniversary,” she said almost four decades ago. But three years after that, he coaxed her out for lunch. “Fine,” she relented. “Lunch. Just lunch. A Valentine’s lunch. And dinner will have nothing to do with it, understood?” He smiled, his striking blue eyes crinkling around the corners, and kissed the top of her head. That night for dinner, she bought the blue tablecloth. He bought her yellow flowers. Yellow was her favorite color, blue was his. Zane lived in varying shades of blue, while Beth thrived within the vibrance of yellow. Her friend once called them “the sky and sunflowers.” Beth liked that very much. She retrieved a bottle of champagne from the fridge, and placed it next to a vase of yellow flowers. She moved slower than she had in the past, weathered by time and hardship. The small house showed the same signs of wear. Newly built almost the same year they bought it, it felt as though the small property was a part of their relationship. The wooden slabs had lightened over the years, paths worn across the floor where they had stepped a million times. Beth was thrilled to have finally moved into a house of their own. At the time, she was living with a friend out-of-state. She was working two jobs, but she needed the money to pay for college and couldn’t cover the cost of living. The friend was incredibly kind to host her, but quickly turned out to be a less-than-ideal roommate. When Zane proposed, he did so with a key and not a ring. Beth’s eyes darted to the setting sun, her small steps quickening. She would have to hurry if she wanted to finish setting the table in time. She made her way to the closet to retrieve another keepsake to add to the table: A small brass trophy, gold paint worn away over the years. When she first met Zane, she was a junior in college. He was only a freshman, but his charismatic personality and charming smile had made him many friends beyond his age. Beth was studying in the library with a few friends when one of them called a tall, awkward looking boy, over to the table. He shuffled towards them, smiling sheepishly. “Zane!” Beth’s friend greeted. “This is my roomie, Beth. She’s the one I was telling you about.” The friend turned to a suddenly uncomfortable Beth. “This is my buddy Zane. He’s got a public speaking contest coming up, but he’s having a little trouble--” “I can’t write anything to save my life,” he interjected, grinning. “I was told you were the person to ask.” Beth frowned. It wasn’t the first time her friend threw her under the bus to do someone else’s homework. But seeing as the person in question was also paying her utility bills, she didn’t have much of a choice. She offered Zane a small smile. “If it’s a public speaking contest, I’m definitely not the person to ask.” “The speaking isn’t the issue,” Zane clarified. “I enjoy talking quite a bit. The issue is the writing.” “Ah,” Beth nodded. “Well, let’s take a look.” She reached for the crumpled papers in his hand, but he pulled them back, again grinning sheepishly. “I don’t think I know you well enough to show you my greatest humiliations, yet.” “Oh, bother,” Beth’s roommate snatched the papers from his hand, thrusting them at Beth. “Help him, will you? His helplessness is almost pitiful.” Beth frowned at her friend, who was extremely generous with anything belonging to anyone else. Her time. Her father’s apartment. With this in mind, it’s safe to say that she wasn’t in the best mood upon meeting Zane for the first time. “Do you mind if I go grab my stuff?” Zane asked, gesturing to the contents of his book bag sprawled across a different table. Beth looked doubtfully at her crowded table, then gathered her books up in her arms. “Don’t bother,” she sighed. “I can just go with you.” They made their way to the table. Beth took a seat as she spread the draft of his speech in front of her. “Sorry you were just thrown into this,” he said quietly as he took the seat next to her. “That wasn’t fair of her to ask you in front of me.” Beth’s eyes snapped up, her mood lightening instantly. “God, I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks that.” Zane laughed. “Trust me, not the only one. So if you don’t want to do this, I’ll tell them I was embarrassed. It’s cool.” “No, no,” Beth said quickly, awed by how easily he had shifted her mood. “It’s okay, I’m happy to help.” But as she began to review his paper, she started having second thoughts. “I wasn’t kidding,” Zane said, watching her confused face. “I can’t write.” “No, it’s really not that ba--” “Oh, don’t sugarcoat it,” he said good-naturedly. “It’s terrible, I know. Words don’t make any sense. I wouldn’t have made it into college if my other scores weren’t so good. Math. Math is what I’m good at.” Beth read a little further, frowning as she did. For a few moments after, she sat stewing over the best way to break the news. Then gave up. “You’re right,” she relented. “You’re a terrible writer. You must be incredible at math, because your application must have been a mess.” Zane grinned. “It was. And I am.” She couldn’t help but return the smile. “Look, I think... just think you’ve got a really good idea here. But it’s buried in a load of crap,” she said. “You don’t write the way you speak, which is essential for a speech. You need to read through it out loud, so you get a sense for where it’s awkward.” “The whole thing’s awkward,” he sighed, looking at it. “I probably just ought to rewrite it.” “That would be good,” Beth agreed. “The issue is I’m not going to write it any better the second time,” Zane admitted. “I don’t understand how it works. Sentences. They work when I say them, for some reason. But not on paper.” After a moment of hesitation, Beth said, “Maybe I can help you.” They were equally surprised to hear the words out of her mouth. But they spent the rest of the evening, and the next morning rewriting the speech. And then the remaining hours in the following day editing and practicing the delivery. Beth had been correct; Zane had some brilliant ideas. And he had been right, too; he simply didn’t know how to put it down into words. So he dictated, as she translated his ideas into coherent sentences. Then, they spent the majority of the time editing and picking apart her words, helping Zane understand what she had written and why she had written it. “I ought to sign your name on here,” he said, after they finished. “This is... this is incredible.” Beth laughed self-consciously. “You changed half of it after I had written it first. So maybe you ought to put my first name and your last.” They both paused, realizing the implications of her words. Blushing furiously, Beth gathered her supplies and stood from the table. “Your delivery is perfect, really. I don’t see how you don’t get a good grade.” Zane screwed up his face. “Hopefully not too good.” “Why not?” “Because the three speeches he likes best are going to a contest,” Zane groaned. “God, I didn’t think about that. I had better flub the delivery, just in case.” Beth whipped around, her eyes wide. “After all the work we put into this?” “O-Oh, well--” “You had better not mess it up on purpose,” she said fiercely. “I won’t,” he said quickly. “But I’m counting on the fact that it’ll happen regardless.” She narrowed her eyes. “I mean, my delivery will be perfect,” he amended quickly. Her glower fell into a smile, and he returned it rather sheepishly. “I was only kidding. I won’t mess it up.” “I know,” she said. Three weeks later, Zane presented her with the bronze trophy at lunch. It was a small gold silhouette of a monarch standing at a podium. “I won,” he said, offering the trophy with a small smile. He used the fifty dollars prize money to take her out to dinner for the first time. The sun was edging closer to the horizon, the trophy reflecting the slanted light. Beth wasn’t finished yet. The oven dinged , and she rushed to remove the small chicken-pot-pie. Differing in almost everything else, they shared the same favorite meal. “It’s comfort food,” Beth explained. “It makes me feel at home.” “I like chicken, and I like pie,” Zane laughed. “That’s all it is for me.” But after years of marriage, and years of chicken-pot-pies, Beth refused to believe that it wasn’t yet comfort food for him, as well. For the last several years, it was tradition to take the first sip of champagne at sundown. “My father wouldn’t drink until sundown,” Zane told her once. “So whenever he had something to celebrate, he would take the first sip just as the sun disappeared.” They both loved traditions. Beth poured the champagne into each glass with a shaking hand. Wiping her hand across her brow, she finally sank into the seat opposite the window. Meeting Zane’s bright blue eyes across the table brought a small smile to her face. She tapped her glass against his in a silent toast, lifting the beverage to her lips just in time. The sun was gone. Now that the urgency was past, the deadline had been met, Beth set her drink down as she was overwhelmed with emotion. Trembling slightly, she reached across the table to take the framed wedding photo and cradle it against her chest. A single tear slipped down her face as she smiled at Zane’s happy, handsome face. She was much younger in the photo, her skin unwrinkled and eyes unshadowed. Silent sobs wracked her body. “Happy anniversary, honey,” she whispered. “I miss you.”


Title: A Troubled Invention (Part 2) Author: Haripriya Authors Note: Hello everyone! Hello everyone! I hope you're all having a happy Monday! Just a quick note, this story is part 2 of the story I wrote yesterday. So if you have not read yesterday's story, I suggest you start with that one and then read this one. If you have already read yesterday's story, you're right on track! I hope you enjoy the second part as much as you liked the first one! Under the dome, everyone was doing fine. Ok, maybe not everyone since that is a bit of a stretch. Except for Warring and Harris, everyone else was having their normal, happy days. If you might be wondering if Warring ever got to present his robot, then no. Sadly, that day the entire show featuring these techy inventions was canceled and will only be rescheduled next year. That is a very long time for Warring, maybe even too long. He wanted to present his non-emotional robot much sooner. He couldn't bear anyone's prickly words until then. He needed to show what a genius he was sooner. After all, the sooner the better, right? Everyone needed to praise him quicker, so he plotted with another plan, a hard one though. "Let me see, if they are not going to schedule this show any time sooner, then I am still not safe. Harris will be watching me from the extremely strong microscope he built, meaning I need to keep my little one safe. Harris will be waiting for a chance to steal it so that I won't get famous. Harris is filled with jealousy, and I need to stop that somehow." he plotted. He thought hard about all the possibilities he could do to keep the robot safe. He needed to consider all these options very carefully because his robot means the world to him. Warring thinks that he is the only smart one in this entire world. Warring thought that Harris was the overconfident, proud one. But Warring didn't take long enough to examine himself. He was the one who was too confident about everything he did. It just took a little bit of Harris's smart plan for Warring to figure that out. ⋆⋆⋆ One day, Warring was growing tired and even more restless than before. He kept pacing back and forth in his little basement, trying to figure out how to fix his robot. He still needed to make some tweaks to finally call it a finished product. Every time he tried to control the robot, it would do the opposite thing. For example, if he ordered the robot to go left, it would go right. When Warring gave the robot a task to fulfill, (to hold some books) they dropped it. Warring still couldn't figure out what he needed to do to fix that little malfunction. It was bugging him. Those sleepless days, making his brain fuse out because he kept on thinking out what he was missing. Usually, when Harris was his brother, they would always work on an invention together. They would always brainstorm all their invention plans and processes with the help of their teamwork. That is how all their inventions got made so quickly. It was because they cooperated, they worked together. But now Warring was alone, and he couldn't get the help of someone else because they stormed at each other last week. But no way was Warring ever going to go back to where Harris was. No way he could accept his defeat so easily. He couldn't even imagine doing that! Warring would only apologize if Harris came first, and until that day came, Warring was going to do what he wanted to do alone. Nothing was going to change. He had already made up his mind about it and he is deadly serious about his decisions. Warring still didn't understand why Harris would stop him from clearing their name. He thought that his decision would have benefited both, him and Harris. Why did he say no to him? Did he always want to be called morons, and weirdos? Warring wasn't harming anyone, just trying to do something good to them, so that everyone would change their minds about them. While Warring was pondering about that, he noticed the time. On his holographic clock/watch, he noticed that it was getting pretty late. When he turned to his small, wooden, rusty window pane he also noticed that the "sky" was getting dark. He decided to think and worry about all these things later. All he wanted to do then was just rest, and at least try to get some sleep, unlike the night before. So, as he sighed, he switched off his holographic clock/watch and closed the blinds on his window, getting ready to sleep. When he was in bed, his mind still kept wandering about miscellaneous thoughts, even though he tried really hard to shut his brain. He closed his eyes, tightly, but still kept thinking about horrible memories of his brother walking out on him like that. He remembered his brother saying, " I didn't want this conversation to come to this brother, but I'm afraid it has. I'm sorry, I tried to warn you. Since you're not listening to me, I must take leave. " For each word he recollected, his eyes stung, as if these words were poking each eye one by one. Tears rolled down his cheek as he kept thinking about that conversation. But, it wasn't all Harris's fault. Warring had also said some things he regretted too, and as he kept on thinking about them, the more pain, desperation, and regret he carried in his heart. " You really think your puny woes could ever stop me? " he remembered him yelling at his little brother , that is if he can legally call him that. He started hating himself even more as all these feelings circled him, never leaving his brain. These terrible, horrible feelings always bothered him, preventing him to think straight. ⋆⋆⋆ The next morning, after his terrible slumber, he got an idea of what he could do to his robot, accidentally. "So this is what I was missing the entire time! I... I can't believe I never even took a second to think about this! Oh, how much time I have wasted for this missing piece!" he yelled in glory and excitement. What had happened was as his alarm had rung suddenly, and woke him up so abruptly, he tripped on a little screw. Though it hurt him a lot, and his thigh bones have probably broke, his head sprung with joy. Now all he had to do was fit this screw to the robot so that he could finally get the robot to follow his instructions. He quickly did his morning routine, and finally got to his workspace. While he sipped on his latte, he made sure to gather all of his tools for fitting in the screw really tightly this time. As he got all his materials, he made sure to double-check around the space for any missing nuts or other little parts to make sure he has everything he needs. He took a little sip every other minute while at the same time he pushed the screw inside the missing little area and made sure it fit tight and nicely. It took him a couple of minutes to check if the screw was all good and nice. Though it may look nice, there was still one more step to be done, and that is to conduct his final tests on the robot. Before, the robot only did the opposite of whatever it was told. But now that the screw has fit and Warring revised his code on the robot's program, he was sure that it was going to work. He crossed his fingers and took a breath. He ordered the robot to do the same thing it failed at, picking up books. Warring placed a couple of books on the desk and controlled the robot, now hoping that he would find different results. As he coded, he looked up to take a glimpse. His smile widened as he saw the robot moving its limbs in the correct way he told it to. He saw the robot taking the books one by one, and making sure to not make it fall, or make it trip. The robot carefully placed each book on the other end of the same desk. " Finally... " he thought but was too excited to even finish it. The robot was working just as he wanted it to. Even if he ordered the robot to do anything he wanted, the robot wouldn't get offended by it, because Warring cleverly programmed it to have no feelings of anger and sadness. In fact, the robot doesn't even have good feelings, such as happiness and excitement. All it is programmed to do is perform any tasks and duties the owner tells it to do. That's all! ⋆⋆⋆ But now is where is the other hard part comes in. Warring was smart enough to know that Harris would spy on him through his advanced technologies, so Harris would most likely try to steal the robot. He did have a security mode installed inside the robot so that Warring would always know if something ever happened to it. But, if he installs the security mode 24/7, then his robot was going to lose its power. Every time he would have to fix his robot until the parts would heat, and burn up. Obviously, he didn't want to take that risk because as you can see, he worked his heart and soul into this robot building project. He couldn't even imagine seeing his robot getting burned up. But how was he going to protect his robot while he was away? He can't carry it outside, because people will arrest him, thinking that he smuggled the robot from anywhere across the world. Even worse, he can't even explain he made the robot just like that. He would get into more trouble. Poor Warring didn't know what to do. He also hesitated in the thought of going to his brother's place to convince him to not take the robot. Warring would only talk to him if Harris talked first. All these thoughts started to worry him more than before. Without even thinking twice about his decision, he decided to not activate the safety mode. Warring couldn't stand a chance of one of his most prestigious inventions getting burned because he did something wrong knowingly. He decided to take the risky route and not activate any security mode on the robot. But, he did hide it somewhere safe and secretive and made sure to lock it when he was going out that night. Warring locked his house and stepped outside. He prayed that nothing would ever happen to his little robot and that he would stay safe during the time he is outside. Looking down, Warring started to walk away from his little basement still worrying about his robot being all alone in there. Half of Warring's brain was trying to convince the other half that nothing would happen because he did lock it in a secret place. So that Harris (if he was even coming) wouldn't know where it is. Even if he tried to use his microscope, he still wouldn't be able to find it. ⋆⋆⋆ Just as Warring expected, Harris did take a little visit to his basement to try and talk him out of this entire robot thing. But when Harris knocked on the door, no one opened it. He thought Warring didn't want to see him because he was still mad about last time, so he thought of using his magnifying glass to look into the door. " Weird," he thought. "Usually he has to be home, what happened to him? Maybe he went somewhere. Wherever he is, I need to destroy that robot. Warring probably doesn't know that security check-in is going to come in today to check for any suspicious items. I can't keep this robot in my house because I'll risk the chances of anyone seeing it. I'm sorry brother, wherever you are, but I have to destroy this." he mumbled to himself. He tried to pick the lock, and it worked. Harris tried to use his magnifying glass to spot that robot. He couldn't see it on his working desk, or in his bedroom. "It must be in one of the shelves..." Harris figured. Using his magnifying glass, he tried to look into the shelves, as soon as he was going to give up, he found it on the last one. "Aha! There it is. Now all I have to do is destroy it and burn the invention before Warring comes in." Harris said, and he did exactly as he said. He burnt the pieces and they decomposed themselves, so no one would find any clues of anything burning. ⋆⋆⋆ As Warring came home, the first place he looked was in that cupboard. Unfortunately, it wasn't there. Warring knew Harris had come inside the place. He immediately became frustrated and mad. "I can't believe I used to be his older brother! I hate him. He knew I worked on that, he knew it! He did this on purpose! Ahhhh!" he groaned and yelled in rage. If only Warring had enabled on the security system or even went to Harris's place to apologize, none of this would have happened. Warring's indecision was the reason his robot got ruined. ~ The End ~


I just got back up from being unconcious, with every part of my body hurting like never before, and huge blocks of scrap metal and concrete laying everywhere around me, one of them being very sharp and very near my head, I was lucky I survived. Last thing I remember was sightseeing in an old WW2 era german bunker, then it happened, first the extemally loud sound of explosion, then the bright flash of light despite me being underground, then the collapsation of the bunker and me getting unconcious. First I checked for any other surviving people near me, I find nothing but people dead from either getting hit by heavy objects or fried alive from the blast, some of their bodies already rotten, this means I was unconcious for longer than I thought. Survivor's Journal, Day 1. 9:46 AM, No luck with finding any food or useful supplies, thankfully my watch is still working and I managed to craft a simple hatchet with a piece of concrete, a stick, and some random piece of rope lying on the ground. 10:58 AM, There are surprisingly lots of trees growing around, also I managed to notice that my skin appears to have changed it's color, and I'm a lot less thirsty than usual, the mutation might explain how I survived so long that trees managed to re-grow while I was unconcious. 12:34 AM, I'm hungry as I've never been in my entire life, still didn't find any food so far. Only a newspaper saying something about North Korea and nuclear war, I didn't bother reading it because the hunger was so overwhelming. 2:48 PM, I think I might actually die from starvation, so if you find this notebook, It most likely means I'm already dead, please find my body and make me some kind of grave, I don't want my body to rot in the open field. 7:19 PM Yes! I finally found some food! I harvested all the oranges from a bush hidden in tall grass, and ate half of them. I'll be saving the remaining 3 for later, despite still being hungry. 8:30 PM It's really getting dark and cold, I should probably make some sort of campfire. 9:28 PM I managed to make a campfire, I never thought that youtube video I saw 4 years ago would be the cause of me not dying from cold. 11:58 PM I made myself an improvised bed from some hay and leaves I found, but for some reason I don't feel the need to sleep, I begin to think that maybe not taking that newspaper with me was a bad idea, I could have finished reading it now to "kill the boredom" 0:51 AM I heard strange noises nearby, he kind of that I never heard before, they sound really dangerous. 1:36 AM The noises continue. I polished the biggest, sturdiest rock I could find and attached it to a durable piece of wood using the remaining string I had, and prepared to defend myself. 3:28 AM A heavily mutated creature that looks like it once might have been a human jumps out of the trees, I take a defensive stance, however instead of attacking me, the creature sniffs my smell from a discance and proceeds to ignore me. I still watch what's it doing closely while thinking of possible escape routes, but it doesn't do anything dangerous for the next 2 hours. 5:32 AM I hear a distant cry for help. The creature hears it too, roard and starts running in the direction it came from. I try to stay as quiet as possible as I slowly realize it might be attracted to noise. After the creature is gone, I write down everything that happened since 2:48 PM and then begin planning my next day to ensure my survival. Survivor's Journal, Day 2: 6:00 AM I begin to examine a huge rock, I'm a geologist, however, I don't recognise this kind of mineral, it doesn't resemble any known mineral or ore, it must have either come from space or gone through some chemical reaction caused by the heat and radiation from the explosion. 11:41 AM I ate the 3 remaining oranges I had and I gathered some of the strange ore using the tool I made last night, it appears to work very well as a pickaxe. I then smelted the ore using a campfire and some stone moulds. I covered parts of the campfire in the strange metal I case if I want to cook some food or smelt the metal more effectively. 3:42 PM I crafted an improvised backpack from the leather I got from a dead deer. It must have died recently since the meat isn't either rotten or cooked from the blast. I dried it's tendons and used it as strings, saving some for later and using the rest for the backpack. 4:56 PM I cooked the meat from the deer watching each part of it carefully so that none gets burned or undercooked, this is my only remaining food after all. 5:12 PM Finally, I'm actually not hungry anymore, I even managed to save some of the cooked meat for later. I should probably start making some sort of shelter. 9:52 PM I somehow managed to make a door. Out of stone. It took me quite some time to make it, but it works perfectly fine, and it's very durable. I'm really proud of what I just made. 10:28 PM I think I should have made my shelter out of wood instead of stone, it would have taken way less time, and I'm all out of time now. I'm hearing a lot of noises, and they sound hostile. 12:07 PM A man ran out of the bushes, dressed in a suit made out of boar leather and tendons, with a mark of a 9mm bullet splattered on the suit's left arm. He screamed at me in panic in a language I didn't understand, sounded like russian or ukrainian. I spoke calmly in my native language trying to tell him that I'm not a threat, and that I don't understand him, and does he speak English, and that we can work together to survive. He looked at me with a confused look on his face, took something out of his backback and threw it to the ground, and before I could see what it was, he punched me right in the face! I reached for my pickaxe to defend myself, but he didn't bother attacking me again, he took some of the stone bricks and made and began assembling it into walls, maybe he isn't an enemy. 2:28 AM The thing he threw on the ground was a second boar leather suit, visibly more damaged than his, it was covered in splinters of wood and contained loads of bullet markings, and some bite marks that look like they were made by... human teeth? It was still better than the remains of clothes I had on me, so I put the suit on, it was very warm, way warmer than my previous clothes. I then proceeded to spin three times, very fast. I have no idea why I did that, I think I was trying to express my joy and say thank you to the stranger without knowing how to communicate with him. Surprisingly, the stranger seemed to understand, smiled, then proceeded to spin one time. Then we both started to build, I made the bricks, he placed them and sticked them together using some sort of cement that smelled more like polymer glue than cement. 3:48 AM We focused so much on building that we completely forgot about the danger that was surrounding us. I heard loud sniffing noises from behind me, before I could turn around, I was bitten in the back of my head by the very same creature that spared me the other night. The suit protected me enough for the teeth to not rip my skin open, but the bite force was so huge that It felt like getting hit by two hammers simultanously. I tried to get my head out, but the monster kept it's jaws shut and tried to bite a part of my head out. The stranger pulled out his axe and attempted to cut off the monsters head off, but it has nearly no effect. The monster, now with lime green blood dripping out of it's wound, released it's jaws and kicked the stranger in the stomach, knocking him away. The stranger osed the force of the beast's kick to do a half-backflip and get up on his feet. The mutant charged at him, and the stranger dodged it's attack, then hit the "ghoul" in the back with his axe. I didn't make that name, it was the word that followed the long string of russian insults he screamed at the monstrocity that was attacking both of us. The creature charged at my ally and after he dodged it's attack, it changed it's direction and jumped right on him, almost crushing him under it's body that was twice as big as that of a normal-non mutated human. But the person helping me seemed to have underwent slight mutation, just like me. And it seems that it also enchanced his durability, because he didn't seem to get hurt from the crushing weight of the ghoul at all. The stanger, or should I rather call him now, teammate, managed to wrestle his way out of the ghouls's grip before I could help him, then he scared the ghoul away by flexing with some pro moves with his axe and shouting at the ghoul at the same time. The ghoul ran away. We both thought that it was the end of the trouble for today. We both put our weapons down and got back to finishing the shelter. 5:52 AM My teammate and I paused building the walls of our shelter despite being nearly finished with it, we both were way too tired by the fight that happened an hour ago and the constant building. He pointed at himself, saying "я Dimitri, tvoye imya?" While gesturing with his hands to help me understand what he was saying. Before I could answer, the roars around us got unusually loud, now coming from two sides. We grabbed our weapons, preparing ourselves for a fight. Two ghouls charged at us, from both sides, both ignoring me and focusing on Dimitri. Dimitri was fighting well, but he couldn't hold on much longer if he was fighting 1v2. Once I got a chance I threw my hatchet at the seemingly non-injured ghoul, splitting it's right eye open, and drawing it's attention to me. I grabbed my pickaxe and hit the ghoul in the left side on the head as hard as I could, the pickaxe sunk deep in it's head but the ghoul was still alive, or probably undead at this point because I noticed a couple of bulled wounds in it's neck and stomach, they all failed to kill it, and so failed my pickaxe. The ghoul used it's superior weight and strength to move his head rapidly towards me, ripping the pickaxe out of my hands and getting it's teeth dangerously close to the only part of my body not protected by the leather suit I was wearing, my face. Dimitri kicked the ghoul he was fighting away with a strong kick in the chin, then threw his axe, hitting the ghoul I was fighting in the neck, splitting it's spinal cord into two pieces and nearly cutting it's head off. However, that just stunned the ghoul for a short period of time, it was still got up from the ground after a few seconds, but that was enough for me to get my pickaxe back, but not enough to pick up Dimiri's axe. The sight of the ghoul getting up despite sustaining so much injury was enough to make Dimitri and me panic, we both ran away in separate directions. 5:58 AM I think I lost the ghoul that was chasing me. I climbed a tree and started to look around in an attempt to find Dimitri. I can't see him yet, but I hear loud, unusual ghoul sounds that I have never heard before. I proceed to run as quietly as possible in that direction. 5:59 AM The sounds are clearly the worst ones you could hear in the situation I was in, munching. I grab by pickaxe tighter, start running as fast as I can in the direction they're coming from and prepare myself for the worst while still having a tiny bit of hope that Dimirti's still alive. Survivor's Journal, Day 3: 8:21 AM When I got there, the sun has already risen, and Dimitri was already dead, with his body and protective leather suit both damaged beyond repair. The ghoul who killed him appears to have his skin fried for some reason. Right after I finished building my stone wall shelter, I made a grave for Dimitri near the walls of the base, specifically the part he started building. The message on the gravestone I carved read: Dimitri, the suvivor Surname: Unknown Age of death: Unknown He died a valiant hero, sacrificing himself for the good of others and protecting them from the vile creatures known as ghouls. May he rest in peace. 9:10 AM I ate the cooked meat I obtained yesterday, then harvested some juicy oranges and put them in a cold dirt pit so that they won't spoil. 9:40 AM I wanted to cry because of both nearly loosing my life yesterday, Dimitri's death, and the overall shock and pain that I still didn't get over with, but my survival instinct told me to now waste any water on the tears and move on If I want to survive. I obeyed that instinct like a loyal soldier. I'm suspecting the mutation might have also given me enchanced memory since I just finished writing down the events that happened in the last 2 days while being 100% sure of every single event, flawlessly remembering everything I saw and did, even the time it happened on. I suspect it might have also removed or lowered my need for drinking water, since I don't feel the urge to drink any liquids anymore, just like I don't feel the need to sleep. I use this opportunity to salute and drop some tears at Dimitri's grave, then begin carefully planning my next actions.


“Are you sure I bought it?” queried Bradley as he stood and looked at the plant alongside the estate dealer’s delivery driver. “Yes sir. One Nineteenth-century French Louis XV Gilt Bronze-Mounted Side Cabinet...and plant.” The delivery man checked the manifest and double-tapped his pen on the sheet with a firmness that confirmed his absolute accuracy. “I don’t recall saying,” Bradley persisted. “It’s all here in black and white. Shall we take them inside for you sir?” Bradley scratched his temple and nodded his head. “Yes. The cabinet will go in the living room right there.” He pointed to where the hardwood was covered by a “Persian rug” not more than fifty feet from the entrance. There was a large sliding glass door opposite the entrance where two reading chairs stood on the rug and faced the outdoor view. A modest reading table stood betwixt them, supporting several periodicals and books in various states of literary consumption. The deliveryman cleared his throat. “And the plant...sir” “Right...By the sliding glass door.” “Very good sir.” The delivery driver turned to his men and sent them on their way to deliver the goods purchased by one Bradley Singleton with a quick nod of his chin. The delivery men gone, Bradley stood in the living room and surveyed the two new additions. He felt lucky to have stumbled on an estate sale not too far out of the city where the recently deceased, Mrs. Eleanor W.S. Farnsworth, III. It cost more than he made in a month, but it was worth it. His Great Uncle Anton had always told him that a solid piece of furniture, especially a bar cabinet, made a man someone to be reckoned with. This made Bradley that man, no doubt about it. He walked to his kitchen and returned with a bottle of brandy and a highball and placed them on the marbled top. He poured a glass and took a sip. He missed his uncle. Years ago, Anton had simply disappeared without a trace. It was a family mystery. A private detective, part of his grandmother’s will, was kept on retainer and had been for years to no avail. No Anton. No clues. He leaned against the cabinet and instantly felt more confident. He turned towards the chairs and there stood the other purchase. If oozing confidence was the bar cabinet the plant was most decidedly at the absolute, opposite end of the spectrum. The planter was glazed pearl and more than a foot and a half high and almost as wide. The plant stood another four feet high and was almost eye-level with Bradley. It wasn’t a ficus or a palm, that was for sure. It had a sturdy trunk with large leaves with holes in them that didn’t look natural. The leaves drooped and the branches were spindly at best. The leaves were green but they lacked a healthy luster. Had it been made of plastic he wouldn’t have been surprised. He rubbed one of the leaves again and checked its underside. Sure enough, still a plant. He sat in his chair and took another sip of brandy. What if I simply chuck the thing? No one will know. He didn’t have the heart though. It seemed as if it was looking at him pondering its newfound fate in Bradley Singleton’s apartment. “I do hope that the window is to your liking.” Good god, I’m talking to a plant, he thought. He drained the brandy and grabbed a glass of water, pouring it into the soil in the plant, returning both glasses to the counter. He grabbed his jacket and headed out for the remainder of the afternoon with the prospect of seeing friends, with any luck Diana would be there too. Diana, who also worked at the agency but in the design and layout department, was as beautiful as he imagined her Greek namesake was. Not quite of this earth with a laugh that made a man sigh despite himself. Bradley strolled through Boston Common on his way to Bistro du Midi. The expanse of lawn interspersed with clumps of leafy elm trees and people enjoying the sunshine was a relaxing tonic. He skirted along past the Central Burying Ground and popped out onto Boylston Street. Bistro du Midi was the perfect combination of old-world charm and quaint, springtime patio bordered with ivy and pansies separating patrons from the passers-by. “Bradley! Brad! Over here!” shouted Martin. Bradley steeled and reminded himself that congratulating Martin for securing the new account was the right thing to do no matter how much it bothered him. He came around the entrance corner and there was Martin with Diana. Beauty and the Beast he thought. He smiled cordially and shook Martin’s hand and then smiled Diana’s way. “Congratulations. Really well done.” Bradley said as he sat next to Diana. “Next time it’ll be you, right?” he laughed and smiled as he waved over to the waiter. “Everyone! Champagne? Cocktails? What are we doing?” There were only the three of them and Bradley smirked at the grandiose request. Diana caught Bradley’s smirk and smiled in return. “Ooh I’d love a Kir Royale,” she said. Bradley thought what a perfect drink for an ethereal gal. “Bourbon, neat,” said Bradley. “Sophisticated gentleman. Make it two.” Martin rounded out the trio and the waiter departed with the drink orders in hand. They managed to order hors d’oeuvre when the waiter returned with the drinks. The conversation ran the gamut of work, vacations, family, work again, what shows were in town, what books were they reading, and back to work. Bradley tried to maneuver the conversation his way so he could talk about his recent find. “I was at an estate sale this weekend and found the most amazing” Martin cut him off. “An estate sale? Isn’t that for blue-haired ladies who have run through their old man’s fortunes?” “Not quite. I happened on a beautiful, mint-condition, Louis the fifteenth cabinet with inlaid wood and a marble top. Makes a great bar cabinet.” Bradley relaxed in his chair as he swirled his bourbon around in its glass. “Nice find. What did that set you back?” Martin inquired. “Well, it was the plant that set me back.” Bradley joked. “A plant? What kind?” Diana jumped in with rapt curiosity. “I wish I knew! It looks a bit sad really, but it arrived with the bar cabinet...how could I say ‘no’? You should come to see it and the cabinet” he suggested. “I’d love to. I’m no botanist although my mother was when she lived in Vermont. I find plants creatively inspiring. Don’t you?” Bradley blinked and realized it was a question for him. “Absolutely. Perhaps you could tell me what kind of plant it is. Maybe, next Saturday?” Diana smiled and nodded. Success thought Bradley. Martin, tired of the conversation revolving around something other than him, had wandered off to the bar in search of other female companionship. Diana and Bradley were left on their own. “I guess I should be heading home. Things to do before work tomorrow.” Diana uttered as she looked for her purse. “My treat.” Bradley whisked out his wallet and paid for the drinks even though it was a bit more than he could handle immediately given his purchase. He didn’t want to seem incapable. This was Diana after all. What’s a little brown bag lunch for the week or two, or skipping lunch altogether, for this evening and next Saturday to come? They walked out, and at the corner, parted ways. “I’ll see you tomorrow” Diana called. “And next Saturday!” Bradley echoed in return making sure he had heard her correct and leaving nothing to chance. Diana smiled and nodded as Bradley worked hard not to swoon on the sidewalk right then and there. Back at his apartment, Bradley flipped on the lights to find his botanical friend in dire straits. The leaves, if it were possible, seemed to have drooped more than before he had left. He’d never had plants or cats or dogs for that matter. He felt responsible for it though. Over the next few days, in the morning and evening time, Bradley worked to keep the plant upright and with any luck, thrive a bit. He swung by a local garden shop near his office and bought a variety of houseplant fertilizer sticks, a small bag of gardening soil, a watering can and mister, a book on how to have a green thumb, and a bag of ladybugs in case there were mites. He had no idea what a mite might look like, but he wanted to be prepared. When he arrived home, he placed his gardening treasures onto his dining room table and set to work. He added fertilizer and soil. He grabbed his mayonnaise and a paper towel and rubbed the leaves till they shined. He gave it a thorough misting. He let loose the ladybugs on the leaves but that was a mistake. Ladybugs started flying everywhere in his apartment. Bradley shrieked as he opened the sliding glass door to let them fly free somewhere outside his four walls. Some of the ladybugs exited and a few stayed on the plant and other various surfaces in the apartment, but Bradley was in no mood to hunt ladybugs. By Friday, the plant looked a bit better than it had on Monday much to his relief. Saturday afternoon Diana arrived, dressed in a citrus lime sheath and cream slingback heels. Gorgeous he thought. “Can I come in?” Diana said with a smile. Bradley blushed and said, “Entre-Vous mademoiselle” in his most cheesy French accent. “Champagne?” He had a bucket of champagne on ice on the bar cabinet, his showpiece. “Sure! Oh, is this the plant?” Diana strolled over and touched the leaves. “Yes, this is it,” Bradley said handing her a glass of champagne in the process. “It looks like a cross between a fiddle fig and a coleus or maybe a swiss cheese plant. It’s kind of sweet looking in an odd way.” “Swiss cheese plant?” “It’s a real thing, I promise.” Diana moved to sit in one of the chairs facing the sliding glass door and Bradley took a seat in the other. “Your mother was a botanist?” She sipped her champagne. “Mmhmm, yes, she was. She lived in Putney and was well known for her exotic and lethal collection of plants. Larkspur, foxglove, lilies of the valley. I was never into it.” “I placed the bar cabinet over there to keep it out of the light.” “Hmmm...it’s very nice.” Bradley beamed a bit at the acknowledgment. “It’s such an odd plant. Like a hybrid or some Frankenstein-created monstrosity.” “Oh, it’s not that bad, is it? I’ve grown rather attached to it already” he said with a wistful smile. Diana stood up and stroked the leaves with her index finger and thumb. As he watched her, Bradley felt his pulse race. All of the sudden, a small swarm of ladybugs came out from the far side of the plant toward Diana. Not realizing what they were, she squealed and spun around trying to get them off her. Amid the squealing and waving at the air, she kicked her heel back into the glazed pearly plant pot. Crack! Bradley almost knocked over all the books and periodicals on the modest reading table as he stood to help. The plant toppled in slow motion towards the floor in an epic death scene as dirt poured out slowly from the crack in the pot. Bradley didn’t know where to start. He ran to the kitchen and fetched a dustpan hoping to scoop up the dirt getting all over the floor. He tried to stand the plant back upright but that made matters worse as the pot strained under the shift in weight. “What’s that?” Diana pointed at a metal box sitting in the dirt under the root ball in the glazed pearly pot. Bradley reached in and pulled it out. There was no label or writing. He wriggled it open to find a bag filled with ash. He dug within when he felt something hard like a pebble. Pulling it out, he dropped the bag on the floor. “Is that a tooth? Oh my god please don’t tell me those are.... someone’s ashes.” Diana was visibly flustered and while Bradley could have thought of nothing better than to comfort her in his arms now was not the time. “Call the police, would you?” he asked as he plopped the tooth back in the bag and curled down the bag edges as he closed the lid. They sat together until the police arrived and explained every moment since the plant had arrived until they had discovered the remains. “We’ll need to take those with us to try and identify them,” the policeman said. Bradley nodded and handed him the box. Diana turned and thanked Bradley for a lovely time. “Not exactly what I had planned.” Diana smiled. “See you on Monday.” As the long summer days passed Bradley had all but forgotten about the box. The night it all happened he found a stockpot in the back of his kitchen cabinets and filled it with dirt until he could get a new pot for his plant. He didn’t want to see it die and, in the days since, it had started to grow, its leaves were less droopy and the color a bit brighter albeit still holey. It was a surprise then on a Friday evening when an unexpected knock came at Bradley’s door. “Hello.” Bradley opened the door to find the policeman who had taken the remains. “Come in. Do you have news?” “We have. We thought you might be interested.” The two of them stood in the living room. “Those remains have been a part of a cold case. How they ended up at the bottom of that plant may always be a mystery. But we know who it was.” “Who?” asked Bradley with a slight tone of exasperation. The policeman referred to his notebook, “Anton Marcus Singleton.” Bradley went slack-jawed at the name. “Uncle Anton? Dead? Cremated? Hidden away at the bottom of Mrs. Farnsworth’s plant?” He tried to puzzle it out but it was simply too much. “How?” The policeman nodded. “Well, we tested the tooth, which was unusual to find with cremated remains, and ran a toxicology report along with the DNA test. We discovered that he had been poisoned with Larkspur. The last known location for Mr. Anton Singleton was in Vermont. Putney to be exact. Do you know anyone in Putney?” Bradley thought. Where had he heard about Putney? “No. No one comes to mind” he said as his heart pounded in his ears. “No family? No friends?” the policeman continued. “No. Our family is from Boston.” Bradley chuckled with a nervous breath. “Your plant looks better.” “Thanks.” Bradley walked him to the door and locked the top lock as soon as he was gone. He grabbed his phone and rang Diana. “Hello?” “Diana. It’s Bradley. Any chance you’re free tonight?” He wiped the sweat off his upper lip as he waited for her response. “Sure. What time?” They settled on seven-thirty pm. Diana arrived in a lavender gingham tea-length dress. Bradley for a second forgot all he had learned earlier in the afternoon. “I brought some crab dip and baguette and....” She looked at his face which had gone quite pale. “Are you alright? Sit down.” She motioned to the chair, setting down the basket of appetizer goodies. At last, he gazed her in her eyes as he sipped the bourbon she had brought him and said, “Did you know him? Anton?” “Why of course I knew Anton. He was a very close friend of my mother’s.” “When?” He didn’t want to know but he couldn’t help asking. “I was young. He was a fan of her garden and her beauty.” Diana sipped her bourbon as well. “Were they? I mean, did he?” Bradley stammered as he tried to ask the obvious. “Were they lovers?” Diana said with a lilt in her voice. “Yes, I believe they were. He left my mother in his will. Of course, she’s gone, but I’m still here.” Bradley downed his bourbon and Diana reached for the bourbon she had brought along with the crab dip and baguette and poured him another glass. He sipped at that one as well feeling momentarily better. “He’s family. Now that we have found his remains, his will with our lawyer will be settled out of probate.” “Perhaps. But I don’t think you’ll be there to see it.” Diana breathed deeply as she brushed the hair out of her eyes. “You see the bar cabinet may make the man Bradley, but the larkspur in the bourbon will do him in.” She swallowed the rest of the bourbon in her glass and smiled.