[This Scroll is sealed... Please see the proper Archivist] [Man 1] Dammit!!! These things are never easy to open eh? {Sounds of paper rustling as unknown subject mutters to themselves} Attempting to bypass Magic Encryption... Failed Attempting to bypass Magic Encryption... Failed [Repeats in the background as voices start to talk over it] [Man 1] Honestly, you always seem to bring me things that will get us killed. What if the Alliance found out? [Man 2]Will you be able to open it? [Man 1] Ha. will I open it? My spells may seem slow but they are the best around. It’s only a matter of time. Where did you find this anyways? I have never seen a magic encryption as strong as this one. [Man 2]You probably don’t want to know. [M1]True Can you at least tell me what is supposed to be in it? [M2]They didn’t tell me. [M1] Of course not... {Attempting to bypass Magic Encryption... Success} [M1] We’re in!!! Magic Encryption Opened. Warning... The contents within this scroll are considered Level 3. Unauthorized use of this scroll can result in severe punishment from the Alliance. [M1] What the hell did you bring me? Level 3? I have never heard of a clearance like this before. Were you followed? [M2] I covered my tracks pretty well. I am sure no one could follow me. Let’s see what is so secret. [M1] I am not sure I want to know. But a job is a job. Warning... This scroll contains Level 3 Sensitive Data. Unauthorized Use could result in severe punishment from the Bureau. Do you wish to continue? I am getting too old for this shit. [M1] Access Captured Sound Magic Sound Magic Audio Recordings: 1 Debriefing of Pvt. Talion [Status: Deceased] Do you wish to hear this capture? [M1] Yes Beginning Sound Magic Playback [Talion] You Fucking idiots Let Me Go!!! [Sound of a chair scraping against the ground and a man grunting] [Inquisitor] Pvt. Talion, I am inquisitor Dom from the Bureau of Interrogation. You are currently detained in this facility due to your desertion in Kel. I am going to ask you for your side of this story but first I will tell you what we know. [The sound of struggling continues then a loud thud is heard and Talion begins to groan] [Inquisitor] I would suggest you not struggle. You will be here as long as we need you. The world thinks you are dead. There is no escape. [Soon the groaning stops and haggard breathing can be heard.] [Talion] What..... What do you want from me? [Inquisitor] I need to know what happened in Kel. [Talion] What do you mean what happened? Didn’t you ask the others? {The Inquisitor looks down for a moment then lets out a deep exhale.} [Inquisitor] There were no survivors. Honestly, we didn’t even know you survived until we found you in that place. So enlighten us. Why did you run? What happened? {A silence fills the room and you hear another loud thud followed by Talion’s groaning} [Inquisitor] Why do people never understand that they have no choice. Only pain awaits those that do not speak. [Talion; very distressed] What was I supposed to do!!! I grew up in Kel. My wife... Helena, oh god Helena.{Sobbing can be heard} My mother, my father, my brothers... my sisters. All of us lived in Kel. I loved that city... I belonged! It was why I joined the guard. I wanted to protect everyone. I tried to protect everyone... but I never thought something like this would have happened. {Talion is broken down at this point. You did not need to see the room to know something tragic had occurred} It was the Season of the Leaves. Harvest had just started and the festivities were already well on their way. The cheers and music drowned out the poor souls that found themselves victim to a monster. Atop the walls I must ashamedly admit that I could not discern the voices of anguish from those of joy until it was too late. Soon chaos erupted as people fled from the market area. I along with a few of the other guardsmen ran towards the screaming. And when we arrived... my reality shattered. [Inquisitor] What did you see? [Talion] I can’t explain it very well. A human? A monster? Whatever it was I can assure you that it was death. I watched as a strangely cloaked figure impaled villagers left and right. Pools of blood all around the ground. I froze... I had never seen death like this. Friends I had once planned to spend my evening with now fell lifeless to the ground as their empty eyes stared into my own. Soon my eyes could not see anything but the cloaked figure as the other guards approached it. One of us released an arrow towards it. The reflexes of this person were inhuman. It easily moved out of the arrow's way. One of our only town mages managed to gather enough courage to release a low flame spell. The cloak caught fire but I now wish we had left it undamaged. Before us stood a monster. I could see a human frame, muscles exposed, a skull barren of flesh. And metal all throughout the body. An inhuman sound came from deep within the monster and I felt a shiver in my body down to my very soul. This was my breaking point. It was all of our breaking points. I did the only thing I could... I ran... I ran... I ran... I ran. I ran. I ran. I ran. I tried to find Helena. But in all the chaos I couldn’t. I was at a loss. I could not find my loved ones. That monster was still nearby and now I could hear new sounds. Sounds that I had never heard before. But I couldn’t leave yet. Not until I found Helena. Worried that she may have started towards the festival, I hurried back. I now wish I had never gone. The Monster was still there. I could clearly see now that it was unlike anything I had ever seen. . A large tail was being used to impale helpless villagers. Bodies lie mangled all around it. But among those bodies my attention was drawn to a new creature. It looked like it may have once been human but the tendrils and grotesque growths all over its body easily told me the two monsters were related. It was feasting on the corpses that the larger one had tossed aside. I could not stop looking on in horror. The scream of a familiar voice brought me back to reality. Helena. I turned to where the scream had come from . The largest monster had found her, trapped in a market stall with what looked like a small child in her arms. The creature walked towards her. She cowered and started to back away as the child in her arms started to cry. I couldn’t reach her. I could only watch as the beast grabbed her and lifted her off the ground. The tail impaled Helena and the child together. I was overcome with anger. My reasoning left me. I charged the creature, but a hand reached out and grabbed me before I got closer. It was my Father. I could tell from his face that he had just witnessed Helena’s death. I asked about Mother... but his silence was all I needed to hear to understand. A loud roar brought both of us back to reality. I looked towards the monster and saw a small dagger sticking out of its hand. A dagger I had bought Helena. I looked at my wife and our eyes met briefly. I could feel her goodbye in my soul. It did not need to be said. The monster smashed her head within its grasp. I was blinded by my tears. My father quickly rose and began to drag me with him as we headed away from the carnage. But we were not fast enough. Loud crashes could be heard behind us. I looked back to see the monster and his cohorts chasing us. Buildings, Stalls... None of it mattered before the speed of this monster. Walls seemed to disintegrate as the Monster tore through them. They were slowly gaining on us. I felt as if all hope was lost. [Inquisitor] How did you escape? [Talion] My father led us to the waterfront. There were a few boats left. He pushed me into one of the closest and told me to lie down. I didn’t have the energy to argue. I felt weight soon after lying down as sacks and other food products were thrown on top of me. I couldn’t move anymore. Only one eye remained visible with the ability to see what was happening. My father had covered me in some of the leftover items that had yet to be moved from the docks due to the festival. He untied the boat and began to push it away. I tried to call out to him to come with me before the boat got too far but he only looked at me and placed his finger up to his mouth to quiet me. I tried to free myself from the pile. But by now the boat had traveled too far. I never saw my father again. [Inquisitor] Is that it? [Talion] What do you mean? I lost everyone! Helena died in front of me! [Inquisitor] I guess there is nothing left for you to tell us then. He has told his part, silence him. [Talion] What do you mean silence! I told you everything I knew! Why!?! [Inquisitor] We can not let this news get out. Now... Finish Him Quickly so we can arrange a trip to Kel to see this chaos firsthand. [Talion] Nooooooo!!! End Sound Magic Playback [Man 1] Leave [Man 2] What? [Man 1] Leave and take this with you. Get as far away as you can and do not stop. This should have never been stolen. [Man 2] It can’t be that bad right? [Man 1] This man was silenced for having seen the event.


(Warning for very minor mentions of abuse, and being ill. Marking as sensitive content just to be safe, but none of these things are in-depth.) The eclipse does not originate from natural causes. I’d understand your conflict reading that statement. To the average man, a total eclipse is just a product of our solar system, the moon centering itself in front of the sun to block the light of day. What if I told you that this comes from something more unreal, however? That the moon and the sun align in honor of two people in love? My mother told me a story, which originated from one of her grandmothers from long ago, about two men who met as the moon settled in front of the sun. These men were gifted from birth, drawn to the light of day and darkness of night, respectively. One’s name was Soleil; the other, Eclipse. This story is told from the perspective of Soleil. Soleil was raised in a family that was mostly lenient with their rules, especially since they only had one kid at the time. His parents were new to raising children, so of course they were bound to give him freedoms that the average kid may not receive. They let him play outside alone for hours, and would offer him whatever he’d like so long as he was happy. They were still poor, but they did the best they could. Before his birth, his parents struggled with keeping their home life stable. Their crops would barely grow at all, and they’d never have any luck receiving help from others. The family was viewed as cursed, thanks to a few unruly gossipers, and was treated as such. However, once Soleil was born, things took a turn for the best. Birthed right as the sun began to rise in the sky, he was called a blessing. His family, which was incredibly superstitious, believed him to be a good omen. The townspeople followed their beliefs, agreeing that he was certainly a child of the sun. As such, life improved for the homestead. Soleil, young and unaware of his meaning to the family, was simply happy to be born into such a loving environment. It didn’t matter how well they treated him, however, as he still yearned for another someone. Someone he loved, despite their differences. The truth is, since birth, Soleil had dreams of another boy. A boy that was opposite to him entirely, with black hair instead of blonde, and modest attire as compared to Soleil’s more eccentric style. This boy loved bugs and books, while Soleil hated bugs and never enjoyed books. Yet they still got along in his dreams, and they seemed to be close. This boy’s name was Eclipse. As Soleil aged, the dreams became more vivid, and he remembered them more often. He knew so many details about this other individual, and it only pulled the two closer. The rest of his family felt these were good omens, the same way Soleil was, and that this was merely a gift from God. That the two were meant to be together, even if their relationship was considered “taboo” for the time. Soleil would draw pictures of Eclipse on paper, and would pick flowers to honor the drawings of him that he’d made. Everything he’d eat, he’d save a bit on his plate for him, even if he wasn’t really there. He was fully in love with this man that, as far as anyone was aware, didn’t exist outside of his dreams. Soleil was certain this man was real. The way Eclipse described his own life in the dreams was too detailed, and the images were too vivid. Eclipse would explain his home life as abusive, treating him as though he was a curse. He was born as night fell, and his family believed that he would bring nothing but darkness to their lives. His sister especially, who picked on him on the daily. Wishing to help Eclipse out of his situation, Soleil would plan out an “escape plan” for him, with the help of his -- albeit very hesitant -- parents. Eclipse, in one of Soleil’s dreams, agreed with this. He did, however, specify one particular problem. He was sick, and it was a struggle for him to properly move around. Soleil did not care. He told Eclipse that he’d sacrifice anything for him, and that he’d help him walk if he so needed. This led to the two deciding on a date to meet up. Despite the lack of proper directions, Soleil was so determined to meet up with his partner, that he chose to pack for a multi-day trip. Where he was going was mostly unknown, and God only knows how far away it would be. All he knew, from what Eclipse had told him, was that it was near where the sun fell. Soleil worked for days on end in preparation for this trip, making his own food and packing his own supplies. He went through the effort of getting a job and everything, all for Eclipse. Soon enough, he was all set, with enough supplies to last him a small amount of time. Long enough to find Eclipse, surely. Before long, Soleil was waving goodbye to his family, heading out with just a large bag and the clothes on his back. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to find Eclipse’s home. He’d left out before morning, and arrived at his home right around noon. It was just across town. Despite the long walking distance, it wasn’t too horrible of a walk, and Soleil could see himself traveling to Eclipse’s house daily if he so needed- but the plan was for the two to stay together, forever, and not have to separate. He went to knock on the door of the building before he caught himself. Eclipse’s parents were abusive, so surely, they’d hurt Soleil too if they knew about their relationship. Besides, he wasn’t getting the vibe that he was there, instead feeling as if he was just behind the house... So, he went there instead. Walking behind the house, he noticed a small figure with black hair standing perfectly still, appearing to stare up at the clouds. Without hesitation, Soleil approached the figure, moving in for a hug. This was when Eclipse collapsed, falling right as Soleil wrapped his hands around him. Eclipse should’ve been shocked, Soleil figured, but it must’ve been the fact that he knew he was coming in the first place. He smiled down at him, gently settling him down on the dirt as he sat beside him. Coughing, Eclipse spoke first, a surprised for Soleil given that he was always significantly quieter in their dreams. “Are you alright? That was not too bad of a walk, was it?” He sounded the same as in the dreams; articulate. “I’m just fine, now that I’ve got you.” Soleil smiled, leaning into Eclipse’s shoulder. It was a pleasure getting to see the man he’d always wanted to see. He wanted to kiss him right there, if it weren’t for the fact that they’d literally just met. “I’m in shock, the way you look the exact same.” Eclipse nodded his head, a small smile forming on his face as well. “I could say the same for you. You look lovely.” His reply was quick, as he moved to the side to cough away from Soleil. As he recovered, Soleil looked him over closely, frowning at how disheveled he seemed to be. His sickness concerned him greatly, as he’d never seen people this sick that haven’t died. He chose to savor this moment, however, and shoved that thought to the back of his head. “Is this the part where we kiss?” Soleil asked directly. This shocked Eclipse, who was now blushing up a storm. Nodding his head slightly, Eclipse had to gather himself. With the tiniest smile, he turned his head to the side, offering his cheek to Soleil. To which, he planted a small kiss, leaving Eclipse with an even brighter blush than before. This was when the moon fell in front of the sun, for the first time. Neither of them had known that this was going to happen, so they were both surprised when things suddenly went dark. It didn’t take too long before Soleil grinned, pointing up at the now covered sun. “Look, it’s us!” He said with heavy enthusiasm, the complete opposite to Eclipse’s demeanor. “The moon’s in front of the sun, like how you’re in front of me right now! It’s like a...” He had to think to himself the proper way to describe this scenario. It took a few seconds before he finished his sentence, ending it off with a, “... Solar eclipse! It’s like you and me, the solar eclipse!” Eclipse, recovering from the kiss, smiled as well as he nodded. “Yes, Soleil. ‘Solar eclipse’ is very fitting.” Pausing, he contemplated. “Do you think other people will call it that later down the line, if this happens again?” “If we tell enough people that’s what it’s called,” Soleil replied, as happy as he could be, before moving to pick Eclipse up from his spot. “Where are we going?” Eclipse asked. “Home.” Soleil replied, lifting Eclipse up and proceeding to walk in the direction of his own home. And that’s how the solar eclipse came to be.


I rang the doorbell next door (Mrs. Foster’s house) and waited patiently listening for the footsteps. But, the only thing I could hear was my heartbeat. After a few seconds, the door opened and Mrs. Foster’s always smiling face appeared. She had her dog, Charlie on a leash. I cleared my throat, but she spoke first. “Oh dear, I was so worried about Charlie. Neither I can take him to the yoga class along with me nor can leave him alone in the house.” (She treated Charlie more like a child. She even called it him.) Then she thrust the leash into my hand, took the coat and the bag that were hanging, gave me a lengthy instruction on likes and dislikes of the dog which I didn’t understand a word, locked the door, waved at me, and left. Everything happened so quickly that I didn’t have time even to understand what was happening and now I was left with a dog. I came here to say Mrs. Foster goodbye. Yesterday, I got a promotion as the chief creative designer (I was a senior creative designer before) to the new branch of our company in the neighboring town and I have to be present by tomorrow. So today was the only day I had got to say all the goodbyes. Now what? With the hope of saying goodbye to Mrs. Foster later, I left her house heading my way along with Charlie to Ava’s, my best friend. I had to make sure I was holding the leash tight because now and then Charlie would try to run after almost everything that moved. I wondered what might have been on that list of likes and dislikes Mrs. Foster told me because I wasn’t sure whether it was excited or angry. On my way to Ava’s, I had to go past Lucas’s coffee shop “Coffee Express” which is the best coffee shop in the whole city. Lucas is one of my classmates and was gifted in cooking. I had a habit of visiting this coffee shop at least once a day to taste one of Lucas’s special coffees. So, I stopped by the shop and went inside to say goodbye. As usual, Lucas was at the counter. “Hi, Lucas” “Hi, Hannah. Having usual?” “I came here to talk to you.” “Then what about enjoying a coffee while talking?” That didn’t sound half bad. (To be honest, that sounded great. Who knows when I will get to taste Lucas’s delicious coffees again?) So I went to my usual table, made Charlie sit beside me and waited till Lucas came back with a steaming coffee on a tray. He served me the coffee and sat in front of me. I was just about to open my mouth when Charlie started to bark at the postman who was leisurely enjoying a coffee only two tables next to ours. I held the leash with all my might, but the dog was stronger. It got the leash out of my grip and ran towards the postman making the table trip down. My cup of coffee fell with a crash. I got to my feet and ran after the dog trying to take hold of it. Charlie jumped onto the postman’s table, tripped his coffee onto his shirt and was about to bite off his head (at least that was what it looked like) when I finally got hold of it and dragged it out of the coffee shop before making any more trouble. We had passed “Coffee Express” and two other shops, but Charlie was still looking back and barking. Thanks to Charlie, I couldn’t tell Lucas goodbye. (Keep that aside, now I can’t even face him.) After passing some more shops and houses, Charlie became completely calm. Maybe it was tired after all the barking, running, and jumping. So, I bought Charlie and me two hotdogs from a hotdog cart which Charlie gulped in three bites. Then we headed off to Ava’s again. When we finally reached our destination, before ringing the doorbell, I looked sternly at Charlie and said, “Any more trouble from you, you’ll be sorry for that." I was about to ring the bell when my phone rang. It was Ava. “Good afternoon, Ava! I’m...” “Good afternoon, Hannah! You won’t believe what I just heard. Zoey is back in the town and wants to meet us.” “Really?” That was indeed great news. The three of us; Ava, Zoey and me, are friends since we were in grade one. But when the thought, I was about to leave the town struck me, my heart sank and I guess that was evident through my voice. “Aren’t you happy, Hannah?” “Of course I’m happy. When does Zoey want to meet us?” “Today.” “Today?” “Yes. At Lucas’s “Coffee Express”. Can you come around 4 o’clock?” At Lucas’s? That was the problem. How could I go back there after all the trouble I have caused? “Today I’m a bit busy, so I don’t think I would be able to come.” “Oh! If that’s the case, we’ll meet up on some other day. I’ll tell her. When is okay with you?” “Ah...I’m not exactly sure. I’ll let you know.” That was it and now I won’t be able to say goodbye to Ava and Zoey as well. I turned back. Today was the worst. Nothing went as planned. How can I leave without saying goodbye? I started to walk slowly towards my home. I could still say goodbye to Mrs. Foster. We; Charlie and me, walked past many shops and houses and were passing by the town’s mall when I saw the last person I wished to see; Emma, coming out of the mall with her grumpy cat. I had this idea of turning back and walk in the opposite direction, but I just kept moving forward. Emma and her cat were a matching duo: both were mean, grumpy, and annoying. I tried my best to act as if I didn’t see her, but Charlie dared; instead, he started to growl at them; especially at the cat which was making weird noises. I fastened my grip on the leash. The growls became louder and in a time of a blink, the cat had jumped out of Emma’s hand, hissed at Charlie, and ran away. Now, Charlie was struggling to run after the cat and I was struggling more to keep the grip. I felt the leash lighten, and Charlie was running after the cat. I too started to run after them, and Emma was running after me. I could hear her shouting, “Stop!” now and then and after some time her voice faded away, but the cat and the dog were still running and were about ten meters ahead of me. I saw them running into the park, so I followed. But, by the time I entered the park, they were nowhere to be seen. I searched every corner of the park; in the hedges, under the benches, up the trees; the only place I didn’t look was the sky above the park. Finally, exhausted and worried I sat down on a bench. What am I going to do now? How am I going to tell Mrs. Foster that I lost her beloved dog? I looked up at the sky and closed my eyes. Today was the worst. But I need not worry because I’m leaving tomorrow and I won’t meet them again (at least for some time). But how can I leave like this? I destroyed Lucas’s shop, lied to Ava, lost Charlie, and above all I couldn’t say goodbye. I felt as if I was about to cry when something heavy touched my knee. I looked down at my knee to find an innocent face with big eyes looking at me. “Oh, Charlie! Where have you been?” Charlie waged its tail and barked joyfully. Then we left the park heading to Mrs. Foster’s (she must be back at home by now). I rang the doorbell. Mrs. Foster opened the door and Charlie jumped into her. “Oh, Charlie, my boy! Did you miss me? Hello, Hannah dear! Did he trouble you?” “Ah...he is a bit of a trouble maker, but after all, he is a good boy.” “Come inside dear. We’ll have some tea. I just baked biscuits.” So, I went in and sat on a comfortable cushioned chair next to the fireplace. While I was waiting in Mrs. Foster’s living room, my phone rang. The call was from the company I worked in. The speaker asked me whether I can accept the position as the chief creative designer of the branch here because the present chief creative designer wants to take a transfer to the new branch due to a private reason. Why would I deny the offer when that was what I needed? So, I accepted it. Now I no longer need to leave the town or my family, friends and neighbors. I don’t have to worry about saying goodbye and can even make everything alright back again. After a few minutes, Mrs. Foster came back with a steaming cup of tea and a plate full of homemade delicious-looking biscuits with Charlie at her heels. “With all the rushing I couldn’t even ask why you came here.” “That’s okay Mrs. Foster. That was nothing important.” I said it more to myself and looked at Charlie who was now sitting beside Mrs. Foster, looking at me, its tongue hanging out of his mouth and wiggling its tail. I thought I saw Charlie winking at me, but I guess that was just my imagination.


The keyboard was cold and bristly under my fingertips--space bar, ctrl, W--like snake scales. I breathed in, out, in, out. My heart slammed at my throat. Beside me Nathan stuttered, stumbled over half-spoken words. "I- Professor, it- I don't know how it got there- I didn't mean-" "You didn't mean to open ChatGPT?" I stared ahead across the lecture hall, eyes fixed on the paneled walls and blackboard displaying the remaining exam time in big, looping white letters. 45 minutes. I tried not to look down, at the heads that spun back, eyes up and wide. The whole room was coiled like a sour knot. Computers clicked, a clock ticked. "Really, Professor Lanning. I must have had it open before and--" "Let me see it again." "What?" "Let me see the tab again." I dragged my eyes down back toward my screen, vision meaninglessly glazing over the questions and answers-not that I knew the answers, anyway. I shuddered, I breathed, and slowly, slowly scrolled. I clicked a bubble, scrolled, clicked another. Nathan tapped his mouse twice. The clock ticked, the room silently hummed. I could feel Nathan bristle as the professor read. "Ok--Nathan. You are going to close your computer, wait here, and see me after the exam is over." "Professor, I didn't know! I--" "You read the syllabus just like everyone else. Do not try that, young man." "I can't fail this class- Am I gonna get in trouble?" "No, I'm taking you to Dave and Busters. Yes, you're in trouble. God. Every single class: ChatGPT. You think I was born yesterday? You think I’m not on the internet?" He scoffed, then paused. "What is that?" "What is what?" "That tab, right there, next to it." "Oh... uh, it's, uh, Discord, sir." "Discord..." Professor Lanning mused. Even though I'd nailed my eyes to my screen I knew the professor now had his bearpaw-hand cupping his bearded mouth, squinting. It was something he did when someone asked a stupid question, or when the midterm average came out as a C minus. "You're talking about the exam there-who is that? Who are you talking to?" My finger twitched on the mousepad. It took me seconds before I realized I was frozen. Nausea bloomed in my stomach and burned in my throat. I bit my lip, tasted blood. Then I kept scrolling, clicking, praying, feeling the eyes of the class slice across us. “‘ Wariosballs57.’ Who is that? Who are you talking to?" Professor Lanning repeated. Nathan didn't speak. "Nathan." Then the professor sighed, and his gaze cast about the room like a skilled hunter. "Ok," He said, louder now. "This is good. This is really good. Right there, you're talking about the question on the ‘prisoner's dilemma.’ So, Nathan, I'll make you a deal. If you go outside right now with the TA, and tell them who you're cheating with, I'll give you a 50 instead of a zero." Computers stopped clacking; the room listened, watched. “Really?” Nathan asked. “Yes.” Professor Lanning answered immediately. “You have five minutes.” In the icey whirlpool of my stomach I now felt the fire of fear . Please, Nathan. Please. I breathed again, slowly. Reminding myself. Nathan wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t do that. We’d gotten through worse, ever since Middle School. He wouldn’t do that. “ But!” Professor continued. “While Nathan is gone, whoever his accomplice is can come forward. Rat yourself out! Which is great if Nathan stays buddies with you and doesn’t rat you out, because instead of a zero you’ll get a 50. Or, better yet, if he rats you out and you rat yourself out, we’ve got two rats with two zeros on their final exams.” The lecture hall rang, and then silence was filled again with the persistent, annoying, infuriating clock. “But that’s not fair! What if-” “None of it’s fair, Nathan . This isn’t even the ‘prisoner’s dilemma.’ Either way you’re screwed because you cheated . This thing isn’t about self-preservation, this is about how much you’re willing to sacrifice for your little accomplice-friend. How much do you care about them? And how much do they care about you? Capisce? ” “Y-yes, sir.” “Yes, professor. ” He corrected. Then Professor Lanning leaned up, his jeans squealing louder than they should in the huge room. He made a clicking noise with his mouth. “Samantha! Can you take him to the hallway?” Jogging, a shrill nasally voice, “Of course, Professor.” It was our TA. There was a flurry of movement to my left. I didn’t look, just kept scrolling-out of habit, a hypnosis. Scrolling, clicking, scrolling, though the scrolling felt more like running now. Nathan got up, bolted chair flipping up violently. Two pairs of footsteps up the stairs. The door opened, hissed closed. Silent. Breathing. Ticking. Then Professor Lanning began to walk down the center. Slowly. “ Well!” He announced, as if beginning a lecture. “Welcome to Intro to Econ! Today we’re going to learn Game Theory! Take notes because this is gonna be on the final!” Step, step, step. “You all know the stakes. Someone in here is a cheater. Someone thinks they can come to my class and pass it without doing the work. What makes you special, huh? What makes you so important? What makes you so supreme that you can just pull up your little AI website and make all of academia irrelevant?” He paused at the bottom of the stairs, whipping his body all the way around. Facing the class, arms open. “The only thing that makes you special is the fact you are Nathan’s buddy. Nathan’s pal. Nathan’s co-conspirator. And maybe, just maybe he will save you.” A pause, the class watching. “Maybe.” He said quieter. I try to look as normal as possible. Another face in the stunned crowd, frozen. But my mind churned, bubbled like my gut. I imagined Nathan out there right now, what he was thinking. Dreading, probably. Imaging his Mom-that helicopter parent of a woman-just laying it down on him. Tearing up old festering scars of failure with her amethyst manicured fingers. Bleeding broken truths, crying hopeless futures. That fate was sealed, I couldn’t do anything about that. But maybe I could ease it, maybe- “Maybe.” Professor Lanning said one more time, cupping his mouth with his hand. Scanning the faces, hunting, prodding, prickling. Then he teared his hand away, bellowed: “Where the fuck are you, Wariosballs57 !?” The silence was stifling, and despite themselves trickling laughs peppered the room. “Yeah. Yeah!” The professor pointed at everyone he could see laughing. “Laugh! Fucking laugh! None of this shit is serious, right?” His voice was strained now, high-pitched, desperate. “Wario’s balls! Wario’s balls! Take out your phones and record me! Post it on all your Snapchats and Instagrams! Wario’s balls! ” Mid-sentence he began to march up the stairs-fast. Any part of me that was withdrawn, contemplative, spat itself back up, flopping like a fish. I jumped and hoped he didn’t see. Professor Lanning stopped at my row again, Nathan’s row, and looked down with cold, narrowed eyes. To Riley, the girl who sat by the aisle, to the empty seat, to me, and then to everyone beyond. “You wouldn’t be stupid enough to sit right next to each other, would you?” He chuckled to himself, shook his head. “No, no.” Then he looked down. “What d'you think, Riley? Think they’d be stupid enough to sit next to naughty Nathan?” “Um...” Riley mumbled, as if unsure if the question was rhetorical. “No, Professor Lanning, I suppose in this situation, it would be more strategic to sit far apart... as to...” She froze as she turned to find the professor hanging over her expectantly, then continued. “--as to make it easier to hide the cheating by making it less concentrated... spatially.” Professor Lanning arched back up, nodded slowly, grinning. “Very good, Riley. It would make more sense, wouldn’t it? Not that cheating on an exam I gave ample opportunities to prepare for was particularly intelligent , anyway.” Another silence, as if waiting for laughs. None came. “Well,” Professor began again, leaning down, looking at Riley’s computer. “Let’s see this exam you have here. Ah yes. Why, Riley, would you be able to show me what you put for the ‘prisoner’s dilemma’ question?” “Yes, professor, of course. Um...” She scrolled furiously on her mousepad, fingers slipping, then came to a stop. “Um, here.” “Well would you look at that! Exactly correct. B, Nash’s equilibrium.” “Professor Lanning, I- I promise I didn’t cheat. I studied! Look I don’t have any other tabs open-” “That’s all great, Riley, really great. But if you want to show me you understand the ‘prisoner’s dilemma,’ explain it to me now.” He leaned up. “Explain it to the class! According to Nash’s equilibrium, how should Nathan, and Wariosballs57 for that matter, proceed?” “Um...” Riley looked around, brushed an auburn lock from her oval glasses and swallowed hard. “According to Nash’s equilibrium, both parties can statistically gain the most by both defecting-” “Both ratting each other out.” “--yes. But, Professor Lanning, I don’t mean to-to overstep but Nash’s equilibrium doesn’t exactly apply here. Nathan is already convicted, but, um, the other one-” “Wariosballs57.” “--yes, has not. This gives them the advantage in either decision. The only way that Nathan doesn’t get a zero is if, um, Wario, doesn’t defect but Nathan does.” “Indeed.” Even though Professor Lanning was seats away, it was as if his coffee-tinged breath was hot on my nose, spittle slapping my cheeks and forehead. I breathed, tried to think. Tried. I could speak up now, but-Nathan knew the consequences for that, too. My Dad would find out. Find out I hadn’t stopped seeing Nathan like I promised him, and worse, that we’d secretly both arranged to get into the same college. He’d probably hit me again, harder than before, and tell me that I’m a disgrace to Mom’s memory; but that wasn’t the part I was worried about. “What do you think?” I jumped, and this time he saw. Professor Lanning’s eyes were locked with mine. “What do you think?” He asked again. “Wha--” “You. Whatever your name is cuz you never speak. What should Wario do?” “Oh, uh-” I realize I’m stuttering, stumbling, struggling, but I can’t do anything to stop it. It’s like sleep paralysis, an out of body experience, tied tight to the train tracks while the freight barrels down onto me. “Uh...” Louder and louder and louder. Say something. Say something! Suddenly, the back door hissed open. “Professor Lanning? It’s been five minutes.” “Perfect. Fan-tastic . Bring him in, Samantha.” The door yawned further, and Nathan shuffled inside. Cheeks flushed, eyes dropped. I could see it on his face immediately: he hadn’t told her anything. But it was wracking him, fissuring him on the inside. Regret. And terror. “There he is. Naughty Nathan.” “He wouldn’t tell me, Professor Lanning--“ Samantha began. Big hand met mouth, and then was pulled away. “You can’t calculate for this.” He muttered to himself. “But there’s still a lesson here, something you all will actually learn . Something you’ll remember. ” He paused, and the fire in his glare at Nathan was enough to light a match. Beside him, somehow, Riley tapped away at her computer. Slowly, deftly, poised to pounce, Professor Lanning moved up towards Nathan. One step at a time. I caught Nathan’s eyes and fell into them, our dreads becoming one, becoming whole. There was grief in that gaze, too, an anticipation of apocalypse. It was all falling apart. Then Nathan snapped his eyes away towards somewhere random, somewhere safe. The professor moved forward. “Why?” He asked, voice shaking, rage mixed with an almost academic curiosity. “Why do you think you could get away with it, hm? What made you think that this class was the one to butcher? To infect with your-with your- rat pestilence. ” He stopped in front of Nathan, jabbed a boney finger in his face. “Do you know how much time I spend grading your tests, annotating your papers, and replying to your stupid fucking emails? Hm? Do you even think about the shitty position that you cheating puts me in? No, you don’t care!” Nathan was shivering now, looking at the finger like it was a knife about to stab him. I wanted to run up there, to hug him, to take him away from this pain, to do anything . I could speak. I should speak. I’m going to speak. But out of the bellowing, the breathing, and the ticking of the clock-there was the soft trill of an Airdrop notification on my Macbook. Instinctually I turned, confused, but then I leaned forward. It was from “Riley’s Macbook Air,” and atop the white background of the image, typed in big, black Impact font letters was: “Tell Nathan to rat on me.” My head spun, and Riley was already staring back, eyes wide and insistent. She nodded quickly, then jerked her head towards the top of the room. There Professor Lanning continued. “It’s the pandemic, it’s gotta be. It’s gotta be! I can’t keep changing the syllabus like this, I can’t can’t keep going like this!” I looked to Riley again, for confirmation. Seriously? She nodded again, lowered her head and looked up grimly, and mouthed the words, “Do it.” And so I dragged my eyes away, back up towards Professor. “Tell me, Nathan. Please. Please. Why did you do it?” Silence, ticking. Nathan opened his mouth. “I- I had too many other finals and-” “ Bullshit . Tell me the real reason.” Desperately, I searched for Nathan’s eyes, subtly craning my neck. But he was fastened in, locked in deadly equilibrium. “It was-” Nathan began. “It’s-it’s been a hard semester for me so it was difficult to-” “ Bull-fucking-shit! ” I leaned further back in my chair, the two people above me looking down. “You could have contacted me about extenuating circumstances, like I advertised on the syllabus and many, many times in class. I’m reasonable! I’ve been reasonable!” He turned quickly to the class. “Haven’t I been reasonable!?” The clock snapped like a singer keeping beat. But in that tiny moment Nathan looked down to me in desperation, and we met in between. I could tell he saw something had changed in my eyes, then his eyes followed. I snapped my gaze down to Riley, who also looked up at him, then me, then him, then Nathan and I returned to each other. It all happened in a second, but just long enough for Professor Lanning to see something was wrong. “What?” He snapped. “What? You’re looking down at your classmates like they're gonna help you? You’re looking at Wariosballs57? None of them can save you!” He breathed in, then quickly spun around Nathan’s body. “Here here,” He gripped his shoulders from above, fatherly, then extended a hand out to the hall as if showing Nathan the kingdom he’d come to inherit. “Look at all of them, all 145 of them, all doing the same exact test. Now, Nathan, if you don’t tell me exactly who you were cheating with, every single last one of these students will be getting a zero .” Sensation erupted: movement, voices, laptops slamming shut. “You can’t do that!” Someone shouted from the front of the class. “Yes I can! Yes I fucking can! I am the Professor!” He stepped out from behind Nathan, and shouted over our heads. “I signed away my life to have this job. Years of grad school, of job searching, getting rejection letter after rejection letter, all because I knew in my heart that I wanted to teach. It was this class, this exact class, where I decided that was what I wanted to do. Professor Winley... he-it-it opened my mind ! When you see the world as a ‘prisoner’s dilemma,’ it all becomes so much more clear! So much more clear. Wars and nature and life and love-the real world: it’s the same dilemma, over and over and over again. And you don’t win by just being nice and staying quiet, but you don’t win by only betraying either. You have to be kind, be forgiving... but you also can’t take shit. You have to demand respect. Respect! Respect... That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Professor Lanning drooped over the top railing, rocking back and forth on his feet, rubbing the railing with his big hands like he was revving a motorcycle. No one moved. No one breathed. Except the clock. “It’s her, Professor.” Nathan said quietly, voice still shaking. Gradually, almost painfully, the Professor raised his head and followed Nathan’s extended finger. Down, down, down, until he landed on Riley. “It was Riley.” The girl let out a loud “eep,” slamming her computer shut with a snap, head spinning around the classroom. Her chest heaved, eyes wild. Then she looked up to the man above it all. “Professor Lanning, I-” “Riley...” Professor Lanning said slowly, but still cutting her off. “Riley...” He sounded tired, exhausted. But he raised himself nonetheless, plodding back down the steps with a kind of limp resolution. He stopped beside her. Now she buried herself in her knees, copper curly hair surrounding her, coiled and trembling and hiding. “Riley,” The professor said once again. “Show me your computer.” She slowly unraveled herself, never looking up. And with a quivering hand she peeled the computer open. I could see it was open to a Discord profile. “Wariosballs57.” He said, defeated. He just breathed for a moment, looking at it. Observing. Then he gazed up at the ceiling, then back to the class. “It’s you who betrayed me.” Professor Lanning said softly. Half-stumbling he made his way down to the bottom of the lecture hall, gripping the railing then the podium for support. He stopped, wobbled, turned, and looked above us all: to the clock. He turned back. Then the class watched, silently, as Professor Lanning carefully picked up an eraser and chalk and changed the “45 minutes” to “30.” He put them down and collapsed in his chair.


The woods seemed to go on endlessly, the skybound plants covering any sort of hope I had for the slightest glimpse of sunlight. I sprinted, I had been for hours, or was it days? Any speed I could reach that would help me get out of this horrid darkness. "It's okay...." I would whisper to myself as I keeled over from exhaustion, only to rise again and continue to run towards my inevitable goal. Only for a second does my head rise to notice the faint light that is brought to my eyes. I gasp for air and slow down, collapsing to my knees once again, hopefully for the final time. After taking a moment to catch my breath, I finally bring myself to my feet, taking slow and dreadful steps towards my salvation. As I grew closer and closer I could feel the warmth, the sunlight, my savior. I started to move faster and faster, reaching ever forward..........only to grab nothing. I collapse to my knees, once again, as the light disappears, leaving me in eternal darkness once again. Tears burst from my eyes as I can no longer hold them back, my anger and sadness exploding out of me in my fits of punching the ground. It takes me a while to regain my composure, before standing again. I begin my sprint through the woods again, desperate to find hope. (This is my first time posting one of the small things that I wrote on the internet. I like to write about things that I understand, and being the psychologist that I want to be, I decided to write a bit about the thing I've been dealing with almost all my life. I'm 18 now, and don't have any sort of professional education when it comes to writing, but I would love any feedback I can get.


My wife and I recently bought our first house together. Its in this quant, peaceful, and rather boring neighborhood. Of course, my wife insisted on living in a safe neighborhood and a large enough home to start a family. Upon our arrival, a rumor reached us. A rumor that most rich white people start in their perfect little communities. Anyhow its about this old widow, who lives across the street from us. Theres many variants of these rumors, she killed him for money, after her husband died, she became mentally ill; the list goes on. I never gave into the bullshit, high school drama as my wife refers to it. Until, until I left for work one day and my wife was never seen again. “Don’t worry about today, you’ll do great,” my wife said as she handed me a ‘to-go’ cup of coffee. I grabbed the hot thermos from her and pressed my lips to her forehead before heading out. “Henry!” I look back as I open the door to leave, “I love you; you’ll get it I know you will” I smile and nodded and responded back with “I love you too,” as I closed the door behind me. At work that day everything went as it usually goes. The only important difference at work was it was my assessment day. Essentially the company looks over all the pointless shit you have done while you worked with them if you are not completely useless, they will promote you after the assessment is complete. “McCollin,” I heard my last name yelled out just enough to disrupt the quietness of the office, while people sit in their cubicles and think about what they’ll eat for lunch that day. I pushed back the faux leather chair and adjusted my formal button up and headed towards the sound. Walking in slightly nervous, knowing my financial future is up in the air. Jack Thomas, my lovely, oversized boss was accompanied by a police officer. Confused, I sat in the doctor office waiting room chair waiting for an explanation. “When’s the last time you saw your wife, Catherine?” perplexed and worried, “This morning what do you mean? Is she okay?” Tony the officer who happens to be a close family friend replied, “I received a missing persons call from her place of work, three days ago...” I shot up out of the chair, “That’s impossible I saw her this morning, how is she missing?” Jack would not even look at me, “We’ve talked with your neighbors, and they haven’t seen her in days as well.” Angerly, I retorted back, “Is this sick idea of a joke? She’s been home for the pass three days I am not sure what the fuck you’re talking about!” Tony slowly made his way to me and asked, “Would you mind going down to the station with me, just to answer a few questions,” He looked at me like he knew I was lying. “Did you go to my house? Or is this the first thing you do when someone is ‘missing’? Huh? You enjoy tormenting the spouses?” Jack looked at me for the first time this whole conversation. “You need to go with Detective Anderson.” I felt trapped in a vortex created by the black hole of anguish. I composed myself for one second before opening my mouth once more, “Okay.” Being at the police station in this instance felt ominous, and overwhelming. The chatter and noise from the people were much louder than at work. I followed Tony insisting on keeping myself composed considering the reasoning me being here. He led me to his own desk and gestured for me to sit in the seat adjacent. I sat done gripping my hands together waiting as calmy as I could. “Where were you the date of August 8 th , of this year?” as he asked, I clenched my eyes shut hoping it was all a horrid dream, I would soon be awakened by from my wife, “What day exactly was that Friday?” stone faced, “Yes Friday August 8 th .” “You really think I would do something to my wife?” I blurted out, not letting him respond, “She isn’t even missing! Take me home and ill prove it to you.” Tony let out a sigh, “First just as protocol, answer a few questions then I will.” He said tiredly. “Okay, um Friday I was at work-,” “What time did you arrive at work Friday?” “7am is when shift starts but I leave my house at about 6/630 to grab food and coffee on the way.” “Where did you get coffee?” “The small coffee shop we use to go to downtown, you know the one that older lady owns?” “About what time was that?” “Oh, um about maybe 620ish? Not sure,” “How long did you stay?” “Not very maybe ten minutes top considering I was getting it to go.” “Then after that where did you go?” “To work. Got to work about 640,650?” “Tell me your day did you leave work for lunch, or for any reason.” “No, not Friday they brought in pizza because we did ‘outstanding’ for our quarterly.” “So, you were at work all day?” “Yes,” “Ill send someone to talk to your boss and other co-workers make sure we’re all on the same page.” “I can’t believe this shit!” The anger exploding from the inside out. “This is standard procedure. I do not enjoy this anymore than you trust me, its not fun on my end either. Let’s go I’ll take you home.” Tony said finally humanizing the situation, making it much more real. I started to really think she was gone. “Can you take me back to work to get my car?” I asked defeated, “Unfortunately no, not now. Since there is a missing person’s report made, and you claim she is home then I must go check. Cannot leave the lead subject alone,” He scoffed at his last remark, as did I. “Who reported her missing from work? I feel like this is a huge misunderstanding, Tony she was home this morning normal day. Someone must have been making a shitty joke, she’s home.” I felt the sadness lodge in my throat like a reality pill that is too hard to swallow. “Let us go and clear this up okay, I’m on your side.” The tires slowing down as we approached my house. My heart began to pound, my hands sweat, and my knees shake. Eagerly I waited for the okay so I could run in and see her sitting on the couch watching some shitty reality show. Tony opened his door, and so did I and I carefully opened the door and let us both in. “Catherine!” I shouted as soon as I entered. I made my way towards the kitchen only to see old leftovers sitting out and take out boxes caked with grease. “This wasn’t like this when I left,” Tony took out his flashlight and told me to stay quiet, he then began to search the house for an intruder. Panick rushed through me I started yelling her name frantically searching the house. The bedroom had clothes thrashed about and her wedding dress was laid out on the bed. Carefully placed in the chaos. My heart pounding a million miles a second reached for my phone to call her. The phone rang, and rang, and continued to ring and the feeling that she would not answer creeping up my spin like a ghost whispering in your ear. Tony looked around and looked at me like I was the one lying. “Ill get detectives over here tomorrow, don’t leave the state until then. Its going to be a hard fight, but I can help you if you tell me the truth, I--,” “Get the fuck out of my house!” I screamed he forcefully left my empty house. I began to feel the dam break that was holding back the sadness I held inside for too long. I woke up the next morning laying on the bed. Shooting up from my spot I look around the room to see everything in its place. “Catherine?!” I yelled hoping for a response. I could smell the coffee so I rushed downstairs. I was stopped in my tracks to see my wife making breakfast in the kitchen. Everything was the same. Not as last night but how its always have been. “Where have you’ve been?” I asked her, running to her, hugging her tightly. “I’ve been here all along--” “Thank god, we need to call Tony and I gotta let him know what's happening,” I shouted with joy, only to be cut off, “I’ve been, been there,” She pointed to the attic. “What do you mean?” the few seconds of joy drowned out by concern, “I’ve been here all along, right where you put me.” She stood their looking at me her face began to darken as I looked at the attic door. I looked back at her, “What do--,” she was gone. “Catherine?” I shouted terrified. I heard footsteps coming from upstairs. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath making my way over to the attic door. Pulling down the door exposing the cool humid air escaping from the eerie space. I took out my phone for light. “Either this or prison,” I thought to myself trying to make the worst moment in my life slightly not as shitty. I went up slowly on the creaky cracked ladder. As I made my way up it began to smell of rot and decay. I hoisted myself up into the small entrance of this dark cave like area of my safe space I never been. We don’t have a lot in the attic a lot of old furniture and Knick knacks from the previous owners. In the widest opening of the room there was what appeared to be a circle created with thick red paint. I moved cautiously towards the strangeness to pry apart more answers to this entire fuss. As I moved closer, I saw what appeared to be a body covered in sheets. I stepped back and turned my face away from whatever it is I saw. I shot back up to look at the mysterious figure. “What the fuck.” I let out my reaction to the heinous discovery, being gone. I rushed downstairs and looked around the house everything seemed to be normal. Scavenging the house for any sign of Catherine. I stepped outside to rethink everything and honestly, I just could not be in there. I sat on the front step holding my head in my hands, rubbing the stress from my eyes. Looking up from my sulking, what met my gaze was the widower. Mrs. Stevenson, peered at me through the window, upon us making eye contact she waved at me as though inviting me in to reveal the secrets of my own nightmare.  As I reached the front step as if something were drawing me in. Perhaps it was my desire to kill the curiosity I had inside about this older woman, or if it was me desperation from my own peculiar situation. I stood quietly for a second and slowly reached out for the door knocker when the door slightly creaked open. “Come in dear. Take a seat.” A distant voice softly spoke, inviting me and my issues in. It felt familiar, this house. Dim light casted shadows all throughout this small, strange house. The front room illuminated light much brighter than the shadows covering the rest of this place. Naturally, I made my way to the front room assuming my host would be sitting awaiting me to find her. Sure, enough there was a small figure sitting next to the fireplace in an old creaking rocking chair. “Took you long enough.”  Standing in a stranger’s house expecting answers on my own life seemed futile. This ominous statement was no where close to the uneasy feeling I felt in that house. “Come, come, sit. I believe I may have answers to your peculiar situation.” The old woman said whilst gesturing me to take a seat. Hesitantly, I accepted the gesture and cautiously made my way towards the love seat. “So, your wife is missing I heard... I think I know where her whereabouts are...” I stared intensely at the woman as she spoke those words. “Come, I am hard of hearing,” I carefully leaned in, the old woman leaned in as well and whispered, “She’s here.” I flinched back away from her. To my shock she was gone in the shadows of the creaking house. Since that moment all you can hear are the screams.


“People do anything for the internet,” I said, looking down at my friend, Naldo’s phone. He was showing me a video of two dudes in a store cutting holes into bags of dog food then pouring it all on the floor. People didn’t care about anything these days. “Facts,” he replied, “let’s go, my mama just said the food is ready.” I leaned up from against the wall and began walking. We had been standing in front of Nulo’s for at least 15 minutes. The owner didn’t mind, only because he knew both of our families. If anyone else tried hanging near the building like us, the police would be pulling up before they could blink. “Damn,” Naldo said as he sniffed his shirt. “I hope this smell goes away before we get to my crib. I don’t wanna hear her mouth.” Naldo’s mama didn’t play about her son or any of his friends smoking weed. I really didn’t even wanna go now. Before I could say anything, a black truck stopped beside us. My first instinct was to run, but there was no reason after the window came down. It was my older cousin, Valon. “Aye boy, don’t go that way. I just saw some crazy ass shit!” I laughed because he was short and chubby with a voice like Kevin Hart. Me being high made it even funnier. “Cuzzo, I’m not joking,” Valon replied, sounding like he was trying to make his voice deeper. I knew he wasn’t playing but I couldn’t stop laughing. “Okay, I hear you,” I replied. Everything he said went into one and out the other. All I wanted to do was eat. “Ight, nevermind,” he said, before smashing the gas and taking off down the street. He was pissed. Normally this side of town was packed, but not tonight. Valon was the only person I’d seen riding since we left the store. That was kinda crazy to me. I felt my phone vibrate, I figured it was my sister, but it was a notification from Instagram. Naldo tapped my shoulder, causing me to jump a little bit. “Damn, what?” I asked while scrolling through Instagram. “Bro, am I tripping, or is that dog really floating?” He asked. We both were high as kites so I didn’t bother looking. “Nah, you just tripping.” “LOOK,” he snapped, while repeatedly tapping my shoulder. I glanced up and damn near dropped my phone. “What the hell,” I whispered. The dog was definitely floating. We took a couple steps forward and a small shadow figure appeared. The harder I looked the more the figure looked like a small kid. He giggled while holding the dog in the air with his feet. “Bro, what the fuck!” Naldo shouted, causing the child to turn his head our way so quickly his neck could’ve broken. This had to be from the weed. I closed my eyes and smacked my head repeatedly. Everything went quiet. The smell of cigarettes hit my nostrils hard. I opened my eyes only to see the child standing in my face with Naldo’s head in his hand...


The Bigger Problem "Houston, we have a problem." William Travis, leader of the American forces, was worried. He had reason to be worried. It was the thirteenth day of the siege, and thousands of armed Mexicans were on the point of overwhelming the outnumbered defenders of the Alamo. The communicator crackled. The holographic image of Sam Houston materialized. The wrinkled forehead of the commander threatened to swallow up his bushy eyebrows. "Yes, Travis. What's the problem that we have?" He emphasized the we . General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna had surrounded the village of San Antonio and the ancient Franciscan mission of El Alamo. For the last twelve days the army had poured in soldiers and cannon and subjected the American outpost to daily bombardment. Santa Ana had swiftly taken control of the village and mounted several assaults on the mission and outlying buildings. So far, every attack had failed. "I think this is it," said Travis. "This is the final assault. We're down to our last powder, we have no more cannonballs, all we can see are rank upon rank of soldiers converging on the walls." "Yes," said Houston. "I understand you have a problem. But how is that our problem? "My God, Sam! We're in the same army. We've signed up for this war. This is our war of Independence. This is how we establish the glorious Republic of Texas. I am a regular soldier as are so many others, and we are allied with volunteer militia and with sympathetic Mexicans, and we have pledged to oppose the regular Mexican army and its desire to take away our rights and impose an unacceptable government, a foreign government. That all makes it our problem. Houston paused a moment before replying. "I still don't see it as my problem. Enlighten me." " You are our commander in chief!" "Yes, I am your commander. And what does a commander do? Travis sighed. "He commands. He issues orders." "To who?" "What?" "To whom ̶ excuse me, for a moment I forgot my education." "Why, to us. To we followers. To we subordinates." "To us followers. To us subordinates" "What?" "Sorry, I just forgot the question. What was your answer?" "I said," said Travis, "you issue orders to your subordinates." "Right. Now we're on track. And what do subordinates do? Think carefully." "I think," said Travis, "I know where this is going. Listen, Sam, some weeks ago, you ordered us to abandon the Alamo, to fall back and regroup, that Santa Anna was amassing forces to the south, and that we were in danger of being outmaneuvered. But, we had our reasons for staying. We had twenty cannon, we had a fortified position, we had a sizeable group of doughty defenders, and most of all, as you know, any Texian is a match for ten Mexicanos." "But what if," said Houston, "there are eleven, or twelve, Mexicanos?" "What?" "Never mind. What does Jim say?" "Jim?" "Colonel James Bowie. Leader of the volunteers. Lieutenant Colonel William Travis, pray tell me, what does Jim Bowie say? If I know Jim, he has half a dozen pistols, primed and ready, and is picking his teeth with that butcher knife of his." There was a burst of static on the communicator. Sam Houston's image wavered, then steadied. There were scattered volleys of shots. Travis glanced away from the screen to take in hundreds upon hundreds of uniformed soldiers forging in, some carrying ladders. Cannon from the walls of the fort blasted away. "Jim Bowie is . . . indisposed." "What do you mean, 'indisposed'? That doesn't sound like Jim Bowie. Bowie is no malingerer." "Well, he's sort of lingering . . . in bed." "Explain that, dammit. In bed?" "Bowie fell sick just after the siege began. He's deathly ill. But he'll fight to the last breath." "Dammit. Dammit. What about the other Jim?" "Other Jim?" "Captain James Fannin. I understood you sent for him to reinforce your ranks." "A few of Fannin's men made it through. The countryside is overrun with cavalry, but Crockett liaised with a small group and helped them into the fort. But that's it. No more help is coming. We have a problem. A big problem. We have no more balls. We're loading cannon with hinges and nails and chopped up horseshoes in lieu of canister." "So, Davy Crockett is doing his bit? Tell me, is he still wearing that leather hunting outfit and that wacky coonskin cap?" "Colonel David Crockett never changes. He's solid. If we didn't have him and his thirty volunteers and their long rifles, we'd have succumbed days ago. But, back to our problem. As our commanding officer, what's your backup plan? Are you going to relieve us? "Now, Lieutenant, that's kind of hard to do. You see, I'm calling from the Lone Star. You know, the starship. We're a gazillion light years from planet Earth and orbiting the planet Xerxes. Xerxes, as you know, is a candidate for colonization. After which we'll annex Xerxes to our new republic. It's part of our grand master plan. Stevie's in Washington now, conducting diplomatic talks with the American Congress . . . " "Stevie? Who the H is Stevie?" "Commander Stephen F. Austin. Soon to be named Secretary of State to the new Republic of Texas. You know, Stevie is more of a lover than a fighter, so he's the right man for the right job. And there's the future to think about. Part of the plan is to annex the eventual territories of Colorado, the highest state, and big Wyoming, and salty Utah, and silvery Nevada, and delightful New Mexico, and of course, California. "California, right. Sunny California." Travis paused and collected himself. Bullets whizzed past him, many clipping the adobe walls. He brushed dust and chips off his epaulets. "But, Sam, we have a more immediate problem. We ̶ " "Of course, Bill, of course. I'm fully aware of your predicament. But who created your predicament? Not me." Volleys of gunfire pulsated through the communicator. "Sam, for the love of God, are you going to relieve us? I see them clambering over the north wall now. We need relief now. Now!" "Yes, Bill, I'd help you if I could. But, even utilizing hyperspace and a dozen shortcuts that I know of, we wouldn't arrive till tomorrow morning. Even then I couldn't commit our troops to a hopeless cause. So, you see, you do have a problem." "But surely, surely, you have a backup plan. You do have a backup, right?" "I always have a Plan B. I've ordered several batteries of Patriot missiles. A single Patriot can account for several dozen Mexicanos. You'll have the advantage then. But there is a problem." Travis strangled a cry as soldiers poured over the low parapet into the courtyard. He fired both barrels of his pistols and drew his sword. Davy was swinging his long rifle like a club, no one had time to reload. "The problem," Houston continued, "is that the missiles are on back order. Delivery date estimated to be a hundred and fifty years. Sorry." Volleys of gunfire overwhelmed the transmission. "Sorry," whispered Houston. "So sorry."


Some summer days are too wrought with time. The kind of time where you \*have\* to think of something to do, and today, I was knocking around the house just trying to pass the time. I even found myself standing at the kitchen window, totally zoned-out and simply watching my mother out in the garden. Eventually I found myself sitting at the table with a drawing pad- figured I’d try and exercise my creative muscles. It was hard to keep my brain and hand from just stopping and remaining still, so I resolved to turn on the radio. The only thing that served to do, however, was inspire me to rap my hands and tap my feet. Restlessness had become me, and I had to just get up and move. After moving to the sink, I began tapping my knuckles lightly in tune with the song on the radio, and as the song reached its crescendo, I matched it with one hearty knock of my knuckles. In that moment, I began to feel a bit more relaxed, a bit calmer. Perhaps now I would finally be able to start being productive, back to the table. But then, the moment my back was turned I heard it, a *knock*. I glanced down at my hands, my feet. I didn’t make *that* sound, but the knock I heard was the same pitch, length, it had the same punchy sound my musical knock was. It had startled me so that I had to turn down the radio. I surveyed the kitchen windows- no one was there, no birds, no dogs. I figured it must have been the front door, but to my dismay, when I opened it, there was no one there. So I popped off the back porch to ask my mother why she knocked on the door, what she needed. Evidently nothing as she had not left her spot in the garden, and my question only confused her. Back inside I was left without conclusion - I heard a knock, but there was no perpetrator. So back to the table I went to try drawing again. I turned the music back on from the radio and my eyes fell down to my paper and work began. Thankfully I was able to get some ideas down on paper- I think the music really helped. I found myself once again tapping along when my pen was down...tap, tap, tap, tap\*.\* Unbeknownst to me the radio’s battery was dwindling down, and then it simply died. In the silence that filled the space, I heard it... *tap, tap, tap, tap.* There is was again, just like before- there was an echo to the sounds I was making. I brought my hands up to my face. I had to make sure the sound wasn’t coming from me, even subconsciously- I lifted my feet. The windows were still clear. *Where the hell were these noises coming from?* Before I knew it I was tapping my fingers again, t-t-t-t-tap. I hadn’t even realized it- must have been out of nervousness. Once I caught on, I stopped. But there it was *again- t-t-t-t-tap.* Was it coming from... the floors, the walls? This echo, if it truly was one, was beginning to induce some sort of mania in me. I wasn’t sure where its origins were, and almost without thinking I swiftly knocked my hand on the table- BOOM BOOM. It echoed back- *BOOM BOOM*\- instantaneously. I gently wrapped my knuckles on the table- brr- *brr* in return. There is something echoing me, there was no way to deny it. *But where the hell were these noises coming from?* It was too loud and too clear to be coming from the floor, so I ran up to the wall, and I knocked once more. 7 times, loudly, softly, quickly, slowly. And it all came back to me, from the wall. I froze- confused and afraid. Then, from the wall, there inexplicably came a firm and deliberate *knock-knock-knock.* Whatever was producing the sound was now brazenly going first. *How did it know to do that? Can it see me? Why is it doing this?* My hand shook as I laid it upon the wall and delivered my own knock-knock-knock. The air was heavy and thick with the presence of nervousness. *Tick-tick-tick-knock-tap-tap-knock.* Tick-tick-tick-knock-tap-tap-knock. And then the sound moved, downward. *Tap-tap-tap-BOOM.* From the vent at the floor this time. Tap-tap-tap-BOOM. Somehow, then, the vent rattled. Slowly a thin, white whip of smoke emerged from the vent. I raised my head parallel with its movements upward towards the ceiling. I held my breath as it gently lowered itself and graced me with its presence. The whip angelically swarmed around my upper body- warm and ethereal. I extended my arm and its smooth contours wrapped around and extended off of me. Behind it, it left a warm- almost glowing- sensation on my skin. It flowed through the air, contracting and extending as it discovered the dimensions of the kitchen, and then it seemed to settle. I froze, only my eyes being able to follow it. On the table where I was working it rested, only for a moment, and then it seemed to materialize a form. The smoke directed the movement of my sketchbook, lightly flipping over a page. As well it picked up a pen and began to write. When I could finally break myself from my stasis, I slowly approached to see what was written. “Thank you” A flurry of breaths came out of me as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. *What is it thanking me for? Was it stuck in the wall?* But... its gratitude filled me with warmth, and the white whip of smoke moved into the noon-day light coming from the window. It floated like an angel, the light glittering on its form. *I need to show someone.* I ran to the porch to signal mother inside. Mother must have sensed the urgency in my voice, and she hurried from the garden into the house, leaving the door open behind her. As soon as she stepped into the house she saw the beautiful smoke, her eyes followed it as it spun and floated towards her. She stuttered with disbelief, but her eyes were bright and a smile grew. *I’m not the only one who can see this!* It felt as though we were stuck in time with this hypnotic glowing force, then it made it to mother. Slowly it descended upon her. Gracefully it slid from atop her head downward. It lay softly upon her shoulders. It then wrenched tight around her throat. Mother fell to the ground. The smoked creeped out the open door. ... Mother hasn’t woken up, and I don’t think she will. I keep trying to check if she has a pulse, but my hands are shaking so violently. I don’t know who to tell, I don’t even know how to explain what happened. But what I do know is that thing is out there now. And I let it out.


Eugene was tired. It was four o'clock, Friday the 29th, and he had to post his rent by five. His scumbag landlord; a sweaty, short Italian named Leon was threatening to kick him out for the third time in as many months. Eugene was out collecting debts from customers. Eugene considered himself a modern businessman, pulling himself up by the bootstraps in the greatest place in the world, the city of New York. He loved New York, but the feeling wasn't mutual; He called himself an 'Entrepreneur', the City of New York preferred the term 'Drug Dealer'. Eugene stood in the cramped, poky sitting room, trying not to move or breathe. Every available surface was covered in cats. Cat figurines on the small worn coffee table, cat pictures on the walls, magazines about cats, cat baskets, cat scratching posts, a cat clock on the wall, and of course an actual, real life cat. Though the moniker cat was loosely applied here: The thing was about as big as a dog, and as ugly as a sewer rat. It stared Eugene down with its one eye, almost daring him to move closer so it could pounce and sink its claws and teeth into him. He'd been on the wrong end of it before and still bore the evidence to prove it. He hated that bastard cat. The cat leapt, and Eugene instinctively flinched, but it wasn't an attack, it instead landed in the lap of the old woman sitting on the frayed couch, settled in and began to purr, its eyes fixed again on Eugene and he tried to ignore it. A tiny withered hand appeared from within the purple shawls and layers and began to stroke it idly. The other hand held a slim cigarette, absent-mindedly shedding ash and embers like little snowflakes on the threadbare carpet. She exhaled like a death rattle, blowing blue smoke into the air where it hung like a thick fog and made Eugenes' nostrils burn and his eyes water. "So, Ive got your order here, and well.." Eugene fumbled in his messenger bad and produced a little shoebox, pulling out the bag of weed, ".. its coming up to the end of the month and I think we should talk about your tab". He tossed the bag into the faded china bowl on the table (Cat shaped) and disappeared the box back into the messenger bag. The old woman pursed her lips and she sucked on the cigarette, a long draw burning it almost down to the filter, before discarding it in an ashtray on the arm and immediately lighting another. "Ah, dah, dah, boy" she drawled in her rough slavic accent. "Is tough time for me and the little Pushkin" she scratched the cats ears and it let out a rumble of enjoyment. "Many cold nights. Many bills for the heat and light, so the money is tight, yes?". "Look, I get that, but I've got bills that need paying too, see?" She pursed her lips and pulled on the cigarette again, avoiding Eugenes gaze, staring instead at the ancient television in the corner, its screen dulled by years of smoke and dust, as if simply refusing to acknowledge Eugene would make him disappear. He sighed, exasperated: "Listen" he started, "I'm not leaving here without my money, ok? If you cant pay it all right away, thats fine, just give me something, anything, so I can get on my way and keep the wolves from my door." She scoffed, and mumbled something about Eugene not knowing what wolves at the door was really like, but he ignored it. The cat jumped down from the babushkas lap and skulked around the furniture, Eugene made a mental note to be worried, it looked like it was trying to flank him behind the couch. He side stepped around the coffee table to put some kind of barrier between him and it. The elderly lady had lit another cigarette, and was studiously ignoring him. He bent down and picked up a small silver statuette of two cats playing with a ball of yarn from the end table. "How about this" he said, holding the figurine out for the woman to see, "Ill take one of these, and pawn it to cover your expenses, and we'll clear the rest of the debts, but from here on out, we deal in cash only. Upfront payment. Deal?" The elderly woman leapt from the settee with speed and ferocity that startled Eugene, he stepped back, bumping into a musical box that plinked a few notes of an East-European folk tune. The elderly womans face was inches from his, eyes ablaze, and teeth bared. "You would take from me!? An old woman?! What could you take from that Stalin and his army did not?" Eugene backed away as she spat on the ground and hurled insults in her mother tounge. As he moved, he felt something soft brush against his leg and he remembered the cat as it launched its attack. Tumbling backwards over the couch in a flurry of fur and arms, Eugene came up quick and bolted for the door. The elderly woman cut him off, blocking the door wielding a ancient and metal tipped walking cane. She let out a ferocious battle cry and swung the stick, he ducked, diving across the couch as the stick collided with a shelf, shattering the figurines and raining shards of glass and porciline down on him. He scrambled to his feet, right as the cat, who had positioned itself on the back of the couch, leaped into the air aimed at him. In a panic, Eugene lashed out with his foot. He connected with the feline predator, punting it across the room, it sailed through the air, twisting in a panic as it tried to right itself, but its efforts were in vain. With a splintering crash, the cat burst through the small curtained window and disappeared into the void with an ear splitting howl. Eugene froze for a second. The apartment was deathly quiet, except for the low hum from the ancient television, and then he heard the faint -thump-. "Fuck." The old woman erupted in a moan that escalated to a wail, and then full blown howling agony as she crossed the room, her gnarled hands framing her face, to look out the window. Eugene took this moment of distraction to make his exit. He tried to not look at the tangled lump of silk and fur that sat on the pavement outside the apartment building, from the corner of his eye it looked like the cat was snugly wrapped in a blanket, and sleeping in the afternoon sun. He hurriedly limped towards the subway station, his hands clutching the small silver figurine of the two cats playing with the ball of yarn. He promised himself he would get the old woman a new cat, and he made a mental note to clear her debt entirely. Behind him on the pavement, the silk curtain stirred slightly.


You enter a house. This house is very old and has been there long before you and will continue to stand long after. At first the house seems beautiful, a gift. After a while of exploring all the different rooms you come to a staircase that you had not noticed until now. Overjoyed with curiosity, you ascend the staircase eager to see all the new rooms. Upon stepping foot on the second floor you immediately feel different, it’s not quite like the first floor is it? No, it’s a little bit darker; there are not as many lights and in a few spots there is no covering on the floor. But alas, it's still a new and exciting experience. More time passes and once again you find another staircase you had not seen before, but this time you begin to ponder; should you even be in this house? Nobody stopped you when you walked through the front door... it was unlocked, so it should be alright... right? Your thought subsides as you decide to ascend once again. This staircase is different; it's much steeper than the previous staircase but there are small handrails for you to hold on to, so you can help yourself up. Your eyes adjust as you step foot on the third floor. This floor is a lot darker than the previous floors and it's not as welcoming. You notice that there are fewer rooms than the previous two floors, but you are still filled with curiosity and so you explore once again. Some of the rooms are not so pleasing, but you still check all of the rooms to ease your conscious. Now you begin to feel a little tired and you decide to go down to the bottom floor to sleep; seeing as it is the nicest of the three floors you have visited. But you cannot find the stairs you just came from. Instead, there are a new set of stairs going up. But this time, next to the stairs, there is a small door you have not seen before. The sign above this door reads “Exit” you are confused at first as to how there would be an exit on the third floor, but you decide to not look at this room. Tired and feeling a bit overwhelmed you decide to continue to climb the stairs onto the fourth floor. Once you have stepped foot on the fourth floor, you notice that now, there are only three rooms. Upon the doors of all three rooms rests three small signs that read from left to right: “Up” “Extended” and “Exit” You now feel another wave of fatigue hit you as you take a step towards the doors. Now you want to give up. You want to sleep and you want to rest and so you decide to sit down for a while on the fourth floor. After five minutes of sitting, you notice a ticking noise. This noise was not here before and now that you have noticed it, it is getting louder. You cannot trace its source and it disturbs your rest so you cannot rest. You stand and walk over to the doors again but this time you notice something, on each door is a small eyehole for you to look through. You look through door number one labeled “up” and see the usual, a set of stairs in poorly lit light leading up. The second door has a long corridor behind it but you notice that as the corridor goes on it gets darker and darker. You look through the eyehole on the third door marked “Exit” only to find a descending staircase. You decide to push onwards as now the ticking noise is excruciatingly loud. You pick the first door and once again begin to ascend. The next few floors are exactly the same. The same three doors and the same things behind them. You decide to consistently pick the door marked up. The fifth. The sixth. The seventh. The eighth. You reach the ninth floor and now you feel you cannot go any further. You feel like you have walked for a lifetime and that there is no way you could push on any further, especially upstairs. Reluctant to leave after coming so far you decide to pick the second door this time marked “Extended” Upon entering the room you notice that is is significantly colder and much less light than you saw through the eyehole. As you begin to walk forwards the door behind you is engulfed in darkness. You spend the next few hours here, walking until you cannot see the walls of the hallway anymore and so now you wander aimlessly. You want to sleep you want to rest but the ticking is louder than it has ever been before and it will not let you stop. Wherever you are going you must continue. You cannot stop. After what feels like years you see a light in the darkness. You begin to find yourself filled with energy as you run towards the light. Once closer you can see the source of the light. Two doors. You approach the two doors and suddenly the consistent ticking begins to quieten down. As you read what is inscribed on the doors a chill runs down your spine. The first door reads “Up” and the second reads “Exit” You have been walking for decades and your bones and muscles ache. You want a break. This time there are no eyeholes on the door and you will have to take a risk. You can’t take it anymore your mind tells you. You feel that you cannot walk anymore and you decide to take the second door. “Exit” You enter a pretty room much like the first time you stepped into the house at the beginning. Everything looks good. Nothing looks wrong. You walk ahead and see a bed alone in the middle of the room. You feel relieved and make for the bed. As you reach it you take one moment to embrace the silence. But it doesn’t last long. The second you sit down in the bed the ticking from before returns but this time it is deafening and going very fast. You close your eyes and cover your ears but you can still hear the ticking, next to the bed you realise there is a table and upon this table there is a pill and the pill reads “end” you pick up the pill and after a short moment you swallow it. It sticks in your throat but the ticking immediately stops and you immediately feel relieved of your need to sleep. As you lay in the bed the world around you slowly fades in and out and now you are outside the house you entered at the beginning although you had never seen the house before as you can only remember the first step in the house and nothing prior. As you look at the old house you realise something. The house is ten storeys high. You immediately feel regret and pain knowing that you were almost at the top. You want to take it back and you try to move but you cannot as the time has already passed. As you drift in and out of consciousness the only thing you feel is despondency. The last thing you see before it all ends is a house. This house is very old and has been there long before you and will continue to stand long after.


The fire was so sick of Evan’s shit. Like that face. *Augh*. The smug one? That narrow-eyed half-grin with the yoinked eyebrows? To him that’s “suave”. Nobody’s yet told him what he’s got going on is actually closer to “deranged”, though, so he just keeps on rocking that look. Working it, wondering why he goes home alone, that’s Evan. God, the fire hates him *so much*. There’s another face he pulls, this puppy-dog-eyed piece of absolute horseshit, that he, for whatever reason, seems to believe needs a certain toothiness to be effective. It is agonizing. *Evan* is agonizing. Maybe, the fire thinks, maybe it could burn him just a little; singe him, just once. You know: real quick like. Oh, that would be great. *Sigh*. It wonders, the fire does, if maybe it’s proximity; that perhaps Evan isn’t so bad, that had the fire been assigned to someone else it wouldn’t be full of disdain every time it sparks into being. That, because it had been there for every barbeque, every toaster-mishap, every campfire and lit cigarette and flaming shot of Evan’s entire life, the fire had good reason to be annoyed. Like, what did they expect? You can’t match an element with a human and assume everything will work itself out. It was *fire* for chrissake--how do you gift fire to a shithead like Evan? Come on. The fire imagines wind has it made. Floating about, doing its thing--even if it was attached to a human all it’s got to do is swoop in and knock a hat off or something, maybe muss up some hair or inside-out an umbrella? None of this toasting-marshmallows-and-watching-Evan-trying-to-be-clever garbage. Water, though; water’s gotta be tough. Showers, hand-washing, hell: rain? All right, sure. But then you have people sitting in you for hours, cooking you, drinking you . . . and let’s not for one second forget that water paired off with a human will have to deal with the inevitable and continual horror that is the toilet. If that isn’t a full-on *yikes* situation right there, such a thing doesn’t exist. That thought brings calm to the fire, and it rides the feeling as long as possible; rides it like it figures wind rides the skies, right up until Evan lights a smoke and tries to convince a woman at the bus stop that he’s a secret agent. Or in that brief interval after he’s set a pan of pork-rinds on fire but before he’s put it out where it has to listen to Evan sing old R&B hits with a screwdriver-in-the-eardrum falsetto. Or when he lights that candle that’s supposed to smell like fresh bread but instead smells like a hobo’s feet, staring into the it while reciting *The Lion Sleeps Tonight* while quietly weeping. The fire will watch that face, will see the genuine emotion, the hurt, dug into the growing array of lines that surround his features, and in that moment the fire will stare back and think: “Man, Evan is the *worst*”.


Thirty-four-year-old Danielle yanked open the kitchen drawer and began rooting around amongst the motley collection of batteries, utensils, creased envelopes, and sandwich bags, until at the bottom, below the crumbs, paper clips, and tweezers she found what she was looking for. Triumphantly, she pulled out the Chinese takeaway menu. Twenty-four minutes earlier, she had tumbled in her front door. Laptop bag in one hand, keys in the other, handbag over her shoulder. As she did so, her fourteen-year-old son, Matt, slunk downstairs. ‘What’s for dinner?’ ‘Oh hello, Mum...How’re you? ...What sort of a day have you had?... Would you like a cup of tea?’ ‘Hungry.’ ‘Yes, so am I...tired and stressed too.’ ‘You bring something in?’ ‘Do you see anything?... Go and see what you can find in the freezer.’ As she slid her shoes off, Matt shoved past her, down the shabby hall with its dated, grimy wallpaper, through the kitchen, and out to the garage. She followed him as far as the kitchen, took the kettle filled it, and switched it on. Then, through to the living room where she dumped her bags. When the kettle had boiled, she poured hot water into her mug, and Matt reappeared. ‘S’nothing in there.’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous, course there’s something in there.’ ‘Nothing...‘cept next door’s cat.’ ‘I’m not in the mood, Matt...get back out there and find something.’ He stood in the doorway, glaring at her back as she took milk from the fridge and added it to her drink. Without turning, she said, ‘I mean it...if I have to go and do it, I’ll ground you.’ With an exaggerated sigh, Matt disappeared again and Danielle moved to the dishwasher and started to unload it. Minutes later, he returned. ‘Still nothing.’ ‘There must be!’ ‘I’m not lying...only Boots...frozen solid.’ ‘Matt...I’m warning you.’ Danielle gave in. She knew her son when he was in this mood. There was no use arguing and threatening, she may as well admit defeat now and go and look herself. Out into the damp dark evening, into the garage, she flicked on the light switch. She stood for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. She heard the familiar buzz of the fluorescent lighting tubes and glanced round at the jumble of her son’s bike, garden chairs, lawn mower, and other outdoor paraphernalia. She heaved open the chest freezer’s lid. The immediate cold blast made her hold her breath and blink, and then she peered in. Startled, she dropped the lid shut again. Matt had been telling the truth. Amongst a few frozen peas, the odd chip and a dried-out beefburger lay next door’s cat, Boots. He was in a curled position, eyes closed with a light frosting of ice covering the tips of his ears and whiskers. A slight noise behind her made Danielle turn. Matt had followed her out to the garage. ‘How did that happen?’ ‘What?’ ‘Don’t!...you know full well what I mean...How did Boots come to be in our freezer?’ ‘I put him in there.’ ‘Oh my God...’ Danielle’s hand shot up over her mouth. ‘No...no...He was already dead...I went in to feed him...he was lying on the sofa...I thought he was asleep, but when he didn’t move...I went over to stroke him...and he was dead.’ Danielle notices a tear escape from the corner of her son’s eye. Immediately, she crossed the few paces between them and wrapped him in her arms. She kissed the top of his head, inhaling the smell of unwashed hair, with a slight underlying aroma of body odour. ‘Are you sure he was dead?’ ‘Yeah...he was all stiff and cold.’ ‘But why’d you put him in the freezer?’ At this point, Danielle felt her son’s body begin to shudder with sobs. He may be almost as tall as her, but inside he was still a toddler. ‘Because that’s what happens when the police find a body...and I thought Pete and Mike might want to bury him...have a little funeral service or something when they come home.’ Matt had reluctantly agreed to feed their neighbours’ beloved pet, whilst they were on holiday - for a fee, of course! ‘Oh Matt...why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘You went to work before I got up...then you were late home...and I sort of forgot.’ She wanted to say ‘too busy on the PlayStation more like.’, but realised that now was not the time. ‘What’re you going to do?’ ‘We’re going to go in and order a takeaway...and I’ll have a think.’ Whilst they waited for their set meal for two to be delivered, Danielle considered her options. She had Pete and Mike’s phone number, ‘in case of emergencies.’, but it seemed a shame to ruin their holiday with bad news. After all, Boots had already been dead for more than a day. Matt appeared calmer now, he was moodily flicking through tv channels. ‘You did remember to feed Boots, didn’t you?’ ‘Yes...went in every morning...gave him a pouch and some dried stuff.’ ‘Did he seem ill at all?’ ‘Nope...just how he always is.’ Danielle decided that she could wait until Pete and Mike returned before telling them of Boot’s death. Meanwhile, she needed to determine what to do with the cat’s body. In some ways, Matt had been right. Boot’s owners might have a special place in the garden where they wanted to bury him. But she couldn’t leave the corpse in her freezer until Saturday week when they were due home. She opted to call the local vet’s ‘Good evening, Watt’s veterinary surgery.’ ‘Erm...hello...I wonder if you can help me?’ ‘I’ll try.’ ‘Bit of a strange question...my neighbours are on holiday and their cat’s died...’ ‘Mhmm?’ ‘Well...would you be able to store its body for me...until they come back?’ ‘We could put it in our freezer for you...there would be a charge.’ ‘How much?’ ‘It’s a daily rate of fifteen pounds.’ Blimey, ten days at fifteen pounds a day. That’s one hundred and fifty pounds. ‘I see...Thank you for your help...bye’ Replacing her phone onto the kitchen worktop, Danielle turns to Matt. ‘After dinner, there’s a job we need to do.’ ‘What?’ ‘We need to get Boots out of the freezer and wrap him up in a bin bag.’ ‘Eh...gross!’ ‘I know...but it needs doing.’ ‘Let’s do it now...get it over and done with.’ As Matt, enthusiastically ladled seconds of chicken chow mein, prawn balls, and special fried rice, he asked, ‘They will still pay me, won’t they?’ ‘What?’ ‘Pete and Mike, they will still pay me for looking after Boots?’ *** On the day that Pete and Mike were due to return, Danielle kept an eye out for them. When she saw their car on the drive, she immediately went out. ‘Good holiday?’ ‘Fantastic.’ ‘I’m sorry to ruin it ...Boots died while you were away.’ Both men were upset. Danielle explained the circumstances, and where their pet’s body currently was. Pete said that he would pop round later to collect it. Conscious of the jumbled mess in the garage, Danielle led Pete through the gloom to the freezer. She opened it, and they were hit by the escaping sheet of cold air. Leaning over and reaching in, she pulled out the crispy plastic bag containing Boots and handed it to Pete. The thin film of ice on the inside of the bag began to rapidly thaw. ‘That’s not Boots.’ ‘Sorry?’ ‘It’s not Boots...He has a white patch on the top of his head...this isn’t him.’ ‘It must be...he was in your house...asleep on your settee.’ ‘Must’ve come in through the cat flap...taken advantage of our absence...Another cat was being a bit of a nuisance before we went away.’ And then, Mike appears in the garage doorway, cuddling a purring black and white cat. ‘He just came in...miaowing like mad.’ ‘He’s not even thin...’ ‘Reckon someone else has been feeding him.’ Pete shoved the bin bag parcel of frozen cat back at Danielle. ‘What am I supposed to do with it?!’ ‘Dunno...bury it.’ ‘What if its owners come looking for it?’ ‘Haven’t so far.’ Mike came to the rescue, passing the now struggling Boots to Pete, he said, ‘Give it to me, I’ll sort it.’ Later, as Danielle hands Matt his twenty-pound cat sitting fees, she says, ‘Made a change from last year’s popsicles laying around in the freezer.’ Mother and son catch each other’s eyes and begin to laugh.