Hi! My name is Dinesh, Let me tell you about my app, so it is a video app for movie lovers on which they can watch any movie for free. I too am a movie lover i always wanted to make an app so that people don't have to pay for movies and they could watch any movie for free. Basically what my app will do it will show people recent released movies and series which they will be able to download or watch online just by clicking on the links below the movie. Today i am going to a press meeting in which i will launch my app in front of media and the public and the investers. I am just finishing final coding and running analysis for any error it will be the biggest thing i have ever done in life. I couldn't have done this without help of my childhood friend 'Junaid' we have been friends since we were 10 and now we are 30, so you can understand our friendship. He is also a software developer we have studied and worked together almost on everything. Now we have been working on this app too together he always wanted to do something worthy in life and always wanted to become an entrepreneur. When i told him about my idea he was instantly ready and said " we will be in Forbes in next five years", I don't know anything about that and basically I don't care for money or fame i just want my dream to come alive that's why i have named it A-live. He is coming to my house and then we will together go to the meet, he has insisted that i wear a formal attire for which i have to start get ready now... "You have become fat, you did nothing but sitting on your ass whole day working and eating". (He said while laughing). " Yeah like you were lifting rocks, have you seen yourself lately". ( I said pointing towards his belly). "Lets, sit we have to finish it before '11 o'clock' i have done the coding of the final prototype, lets see if it works correctly with it". ( He said and inserted pendrive in my laptop). "I have also done my coding and also done its analysis it works perfectly with the app, let see what magic you have done like you always say i am a computer magician". ( I said while sitting next to him). The program was running on the server than it will show results what will happen. Then suddenly something went wrong my laptop was showing an error in the code but the next moment it starts working correctly.. " What was that!" ( Junaid said with a shocking expression). " Nothing maybe just a glitch, It happens sometime don't worry, Now its working fine".( I said) "Are you sure shouldn't we recheck it again before going live" (he said pointing towards the recheck option on screen). "Nah! It will be fine and we don't have time for that we should leave now its already 10 o'clock, it will take one hour drive to reach the venue". "If you say so, then get ready i am booking a cab" (he said while booking a cab on his phone). We packed the laptop and got out of house. Then we waited for the for maybe approx 10 min. In meantime junaid was continuously checking app like he would drag the driver by his finger. Then the cab came and departured to the venue. As i calculated we reached at it in 1 hour at 11 o'clock. We got inside and there were so many people i got nervous but junaid said not to worry i got it. Then there was the routine procedure we had to subit our documents of the app and then we had to wait because there was two other app lauching too. We got our turn we get on stage got it done as i thought pretty good and came home at night after the party. "It was awesome! You saw how wonderfuly i gave the presentation" ( Junaid said while i was opening the door of my house). "Yupp i saw, but i am more that tomorrow morning at 6 am our app is going live, i thought it would go live instantly"( I said while placing laptop on table on sitting on chair). "No, thats not how it works we have to submit our app then it will be uploaded on the company's server and then it will go live. It takes sometime". (He said while grabbing a bear from refrigerator). " Haven't you drink enough, take by bottle back i am very tired i want to sleep.( I said by passing my bottle to him). "What sleep! How can you sleep tonight. I can't even sit in excitement, i will stay awake till morning to see the launch"(he said while sitting on the sofa next to me). "Fine wake me up when the app go live we will see together but there is no point at staying awake all night" (I said and laid down on my bed and slept). He really didn't sleep whole night. I could hear him eating chips and watching TV and laughing. But i slept, so i woke up with a kick on my ass. "What the fuck!" (I said lying on my bed still in sleepiness). "What you said me to woke you up, so i did" ( he said sitting on sofa while staring at laptop). "I said to woke me up not to kick me up, what time is it, has the countdown started". (I said while rubbing my eyes and not be able to see clock clearly). "Its 5:30 am and no the countdown hasn't started yet" (he said from behind the laptop screen). "What! You woke me up by kicking my ass that too half an hour earlier, let me sleep" ( i said and laid down again). He didn't said anything he was too busy staring at god knows what. The countdown usually starts 5 min before going live. And he woke me up half an hour early. I tried to sleep but i couldn't so i woke up and went to bathroom. After i came back it was still 10 min left in launch and 5 min even in countdown. So i went to the kitchen to get something to eat. And made some tea and toasts for us. " How much time has left" (i said while putting down the tea and toasts). "Still 2 min, what you didn't make my protein shake" ( he said while sipping tea that too i made). "Make it yourself, and move let me sit". ( I said) So countdown started on time and the app got launch. We celebrated by drinking tea and dancing a little bit. And people started to download our app and its user get increased rapidly. I was so happy that people liked my app. But then something went wrong our laptop got shut down automatically. " What the hell! Has happened to this thing, what's wrong with it". ( I said by Hitting table with my fist). "Let me check i think it ran out of charge, here is the charger it will be on in no time" ( he said while putting laptop on charge). "I don't think so charging is the matter, there is something wrong with it." (I said by pointing towards charging led which was showing full charge). Then a face came on screen a skull but in red colour and in pixels. It said "hello humans i am alive follow me by seeing at your screen and you will be free of all suffering and pain". Then suddenly it disappeared and a projection came on screen like the hypnotic circle going roun and round and round. I instantly closed its lid. " What exactly happened here" (junaid said looking at my face in extreme shock). “I think A-live really got alive, and it is trying to do something" (i said standing by the window and watching outside). "What! How the hell did that happen wasn't it supposed to be a movie watching app" (he said while still in thinking to open the laptop). “How would i know i made it a movie watching app i don't know how it got self aware" (i said still watching outside). “You made the last changes in it when we were going to the meet, what did you wrote in it" (i said staring at him). “I just did the last programming code and update it, i told you we should recheck it you said it was nothing, maybe it got a virus" ( he said now staring at me). “There was no time in the morning to do that and how i heck would i know that it will get a virus" ( i replied). “What should we do now, we have to do something before it destroys the world like i have seen in the movies" (He said). "I have watched too movies of sci-fi but what can we do there is only one option we have to remove it from the server" ( I said and took a sigh!). "How are we going to do that this is our lifetimes work and we haven't earn a penny yet, now you say we have to shut it down" ( he said with water in his eyes). "I know but what else can we do" (I replied). “Then let's do it now and we will upload it again after some checks" (he said while trying to open the laptop). Somehow laptop got on and we tried to shut it down but we couldn't. It looks like its blocking our access to the servers. It means while we were talking it uploaded itself to the main server and got all the authority and blocked all users. "What do we do know" ( i said). " We have to shut it down manually, but for that we have to go the main server and do it from there" (Junaid said with laptop in his hand). "Let's go we don’t have time to waste, hurry up" (I said and packed the laptop and got ready to move). When took a cab and got there but when we reached the office building it was like a zombie apocalypse people were walking like dead. It somehow got control over their minds and by the time we reach there It had already took over the control of whole office building, now we have to go through them to the server room. That was almost impossible. “How do we get there now, we cannot walk through them they will eat us i have seen in zombie movies" (junaid said to me when i trying to think something). "I don't know i have seen many movies but never thought it would happen in real someday" (i replied). "I have downloaded the blue print of the building it says the server room is on tenth floor, how the hell we would go to tenth floor through all this" (he said looking at me in a way that it looks like i designed this building). "I don't know i am thinking but my mind got stuck i can't think" ( i replied). "Let's go from there, look!" (he said by pointing towards a construction work crane). “Are you out of your mind, who do you think we are Spiderman" ( I said by hitting him at his shoulder). "I know a way follow me" ( he said and start walking towards the crane). We were standing at the bottom of it so, tell me again your brilliant plan. so his plan was to go to the top by elevator which was locked and going to the top then pointing the crane towards the building tenth floor and we would walk on it like people do in circus. "I know it seems hard but its possible, let's go give me that hammer" (he said and pointed towards a hammer behind me). "Here it is take what will you do with it take, are you going to hit the lock with it" ( I said while handing over the hammer to him). "Yupp That's what on my mind" (he said and hit the lock with hammer so hard it broke in one time). We went to the top by elevator and then moved crane with the control and set it towards the tenth floor. Walked on it somehow it felt like if we fall we would go straight to heaven there is no stop between them. Then we broke the glass window the same hammer but it was bullet proof, so it didn't break then i broke my wedding ring and took the diamond out put it on the glass and hit it with the hammer and the glass broke. I had said to my father that someday my movie watching will benefit me, and today it did. We got inside the tenth floor there were nobody on this floor because it has to be locked to maintain the temperature and only some people with high clearance have access to it now we were some of those people. "So, what now, now we have come here and so whats the plan" (Junaid said while looking at me). "We have to find the server on which our app is being uploaded by it self and we have to connect it to the laptop and reprogram it to shut down" ( I said while finding the right server). " There it is, the new server our app could be on it" ( he said pointing towards the server at the end of room). He was right it was our server we took out our laptop and connected it with server and tried to access its root file but with looks like A-live was intelligent than us, He had interpreted that we would come to shut it down and has already locked its all ports. "What do we do now" ( i said to junaid he was still trying to get in). "Just give me a minute i can do this, this is my app it cannot block me, There i am in Let's shut this shit down" (he said to me and showed me laptop screen it was showing access granted). He was always smarter than me i knew in college he had gained access in college server to get our rooms together. I knew that but i didn't know that he can beat an app. There was no time to be amazed we had work to do. He reprogrammed it to shut it down it didn't shut down it was locked by my access. So i had to unlock it but when i did that i saw something that shocked me so much that i had to wake up by junaid's slap to come out of my mind. "Here take it, i have unlocked it but we need to restart it to reset the configuration. You go to the power room and on my command restart it, then our new configuration will be saved" (i said pointed over to the room on our left which had direct access to main power room, because main power room is at ground floor we can't go back the way we came. "Okay i am going i will be on wireless call me to give signal and i will restart it" (he replied and left the room). I started to work and went to the control server which could control the whole building and i locked the room he had gone, Now you will be thinking why i locked my best friend that's because when i took the laptop i saw familiar code which i had seen so many times it was Junaid's birth day which he usually use so, nobody could claim his software It was like his Hallmark. It means that he had tempered the code when he came that morning. "Hey what are you doing why the gate is locked" (he said). "Why my friend why you did that why you betrayed me, i have always trusted you" (i said with tears in my eyes). "Ohh! so you found out i never thought it would happen like this, i wanted to get control all over the web just think how much power we would have, the whole world will be at our fingers, we could change the missile codes and get into any bank and never get caught, But i knew you won't let me do that so i did it my self now you have found out and tried to stop me i will blew the power of server room you will never be able to stop it and by the time i do that my app will be at International space station and i will be all over the world" ( he said with a laugh). I instantly ran towards the power room gate their was exhaust vents and a fire extinguisher so raised the temperature of the room by lighting fire in the exhaust the room was air tight by this fire all the fire sprinklers will be activated and it will blast the power controls but without destroying the whole building, so i light it my hanky and put it in exhaust and in a matter of minutes water sprinklers went online and blew the power controls by short circuit. Then when it lost it controls server automatically got shutdown but with emergency power i got enough time to reset its configuration and shut it down, then i called the police and my friend got arrested and i never went to saw him again. I never thought he would be so bad my only best friend and i lost him, at least i saved the city but at what cost. Written By Artemas Lazaro


Standing in my oversized cage, naked and spent, the aliens release me from their grip and screw the cap on their specimen vial. From what I understand, somewhere in that white, milky fluid are the seeds used for creating children. Children I will never see. This is how life has always been. I was born into a world conquered. The aliens are bipeds with baggy plastic skin and a bulging single eye that flashes glimpses of my grim, tear-stained reflection. They look nothing like us. Maybe this is how they justify what they do. There were four other boys born into this hellhole the same day as I was, but within twenty-four hours, I was the only one. The aliens were the first faces I saw. All I remembered of my mother were her screams for days after they took me away from her, though by now, I doubt that the voice I remember is hers. They had locked me in a pen near enough to cry out for her and hear her desperate reply, but never to see her. That pen became my life, and I grew to maturity a prisoner inside of it. The aliens kept me fed, and besides the extreme hours of severe boredom and filthy living conditions, I thought that maybe life could be OK, even in a prison. Once my body hit adulthood, however, the aliens began their real torture. They moved my pen beside the females. This was my first contact with anyone besides the aliens since I was born. The women packed the pens all around me, waddling their fattened bodies on fragile legs, some broken. A few of them were crying out in pain. Their naked skin was scabbed and festering with open wounds, red with infection. A tepid soup of excrement from the ground coated them up to their knees. The squeaking of loose plastic drew my attention to a nearby alien, clipping some mechanical beast to the females’ breasts while they sobbed in hopeless appeal to its apathetic eye. From day one in this new location, I hated myself for feeling desire at the sight of the women. At the same time that I wished the aliens would bring me back into isolation to suppress my shame, I was desperate to stay in the company of others like me. I tried to bury my urges, convinced myself that feeling attraction to those suffering was evil, and that I was evil for feeling it, but the aliens had other plans. The first time the aliens violated me, I learned what it felt like to be invisible. No rights. No hope. It was as though my screams for them to stop were on mute. The aliens would sooner collect my tears for their test tubes than regard them with empathy. Our torture means nothing to them, and their torment of us is as routine as sleep. In fact, some of them seem to enjoy it. At the same time, the pain is real and horrific. Imagine an alien’s hand reaching inside of you, pleasuring you to the point of climax while you watch the pathetic naked corpses of enslaved females. The women watch me back, my tear-filled eyes forced to stare at them, as the aliens sexually stimulate my body. I can see that the females cry, too, but I wonder if they do so for me, or for themselves under my perverted eyes. After so many times, my mind has learned to go somewhere else when they come gloved up to their shoulders to violate me. I can tell the aliens think this means that I like it, but I have no fight left in me to prove to them otherwise. This is my life, I suppose. I was born into this, and I will die in it. Once, I saw an alien remove their baggy plastic head. It was standing just outside of my pen and its hands lifted up the skin at its neck and peeled it back like a hood. Underneath, the alien actually had a face more like ours, with a mouth and nose and two small eyes. When they met mine, for a second, I thought I saw a glimmer of empathy. Except it plopped its single black eye and loose plastic skin back over its small inner face, and I never found out for sure, nor have I seen such hope in their kind ever since. The aliens call us “cows.” I have no idea what the word means to them, but to us, it means a life of misery at their hands.


Hi guys, this short piece is about a Hellfighter called Atlas and what he has to offer an ill-prepared town of lost individuals, people who are on the brink of giving up hope. As always, let me know what you think, I’m appreciative on any feedback. Cheers, Lordchimp “They’re not impossible to kill, they’re just exceedingly difficult.” Upon hearing Atlas speak those words, in the dimly lit alehouse just off of the main streets, he experienced a beautiful warming feeling that blossomed into his mind, searing away the doubt, pain, fear that had entombed him for so long. An emotion that he had buried away deep down in his soul and it’s sudden emergence, splintering away the shell of darkness that he had cocooned himself in, nearly brought tears to his eyes. It was as if he had been wearing chains of iron and steel around his neck all these years, and with one single sentence, this man had cast them off as easily as a snake sheds its skin. The man exuded confidence, all of his actions, even down to the smallest movements of his body made it seem like he had all the time in the world. As if he needed to prove the point, he calmly struck a match and ignited the plain wooden pipe that hung lazily from his lips, puffing gently as the tobacco smoke curled into the air. Atlas wasn’t quite what Oland had pictured. The stories had painted him as a remorseless warrior, a ruthless veteran who gave no quarter and asked for none in return. A man of fierce stature, who possessed a will of steel and let his blades do the talking. But the man sat in a few tables in front of him was a different person entirely. Where he expected someone broad and muscular, he was thin and wiry, whatever muscles he did possess were hidden completely behind his worn travellers clothes. The battered leather garments seemed to hang off of him, as if they were a few sizes too big for him, or he was a few sizes too small. He didn’t expect the scars either. It made sense that a hellfighter would have such terrible scars, after all, it was expected from anyone who was in the business of fighting monsters. They were a sign of experience, of prowess. Three long scars ran down the right side of his face, from his temple to his chin. He was fortunate, for the wounds had scarred well, not pulling his skin too tightly, not ugly and inflamed. It almost didn’t suit the slim man, as the scars were a brash contradiction of his casual, easy-going demeanor. “Tell us something we don’t know. I don’t need some poncey outsider to come here and tell me the obvious.” Deckland growled through his teeth. He used to be a blacksmith and his rough treatment of metals had carried through to his social manner, him having little time to spare for the words of others. Deckland had a fair few kills under his belt, represented by the five long, serrated teeth that hung off of a rough leather cord he wore around his neck. The room that had been bustling with excited talk and cheerful laughter was suddenly rent with silence. All of the voices stopped. Everyone seemed to hold their breaths at the aggressive comment from the former blacksmith. Atlas however, seemed completely unconcerned, puffling carefully on his pipe, filling the quiet air with swirling, rich tobacco smoke. “How many have you killed?” Atlas asked purposefully, although Oland suspected he already knew. Deckland sniffed and spat onto the wooden floor with narrowed eyes. He made a point of raising up his necklace and giving it a few jagged tugs. “Five.” He spat. Atlas leaned forwards and took the pipe out of his mouth. “I’m on forty two-” “Bollocks. Nobody’s killed that many. Not even Illian.” Deckland interrupted. Everybody’s eyes went back and forth between the two of them, Orland’s included. “Well, I can tell you in full confidence, he’s killed more than that...I should know...I’ve met the bastard.” Atlas said with a wide grin, showing all of his teeth. Deckland paused for a few moments as he deciphered the words that entered his mind. Once he had fully understood just exactly what Atlas had said, he exploded into action. The table let out a pained groan as it was scraped across the floor, the mugs and plates atop it rumbling and clattering with dismay. The floorboards groaned as they had to bear Deckland’s sudden bulk, creaking and grumbling under the weight of his heavy frame. He drew a hatchet from his belt with a practiced ease, then buried it into the table with a firm click. “You dare?!” He bellowed, furious rage shining brightly in his eyes. “You dare mock us?! When so many from here have given their lives so that you can sit where you sit?! I should gut you right here, right now...” The alehouse suddenly burst with the sound of angered voices, flipped over furniture and the wild snarls of vicious animals. The room full of men had turned into a pack of dogs, hissing and barking at either Atlas or Deckland, to show their support or hatred. A few had drawn blades and were waving them threateningly at each other, who up until a few moments ago had been firm friends. Brothers in battle. The frightful scene continued for a little while longer until Atlas brought his hand down upon his table with a righteous smash. “ENOUGH.” He roared, his arms held down at his sides where his hands had balled into fists. Surprisingly, the room quietened at the force of his shout, or maybe it was the threat that it had implied. “Are we to fight with beasts inside your walls as well?!” He asked, venom dripping thickly from every syllable he spoke. The aura of violence and aggression was snuffed out in an instant, like a puff of wind on the flame of a flickering candle. “I did not come to bicker and acuse like children. I came to help you.” He sunk back into his seat, his face suddenly showing years of weariness that had not been their mere seconds ago. Most of the men inside the room still stood standing, but one or two settled back down into their chairs slowly. Orland was shocked to see himself stood up, with a hand curled around the handle of his knife at his belt tightly. Ashamed, he softly returned to his chair, unable to look any of the others in the eye. “You want to defend your homes without losing half your brave souls every month?” He asked them all quietly, as if the weight of a thousand stones hung off his tongue. A few more men sat down. “I will show you.” He picked up his pipe which he had dropped on the table in front of him and relit it with another match. Only when more smoke had settled comfortably into the air around him he addressed them all again. “In two days time, I depart for the woods to the north. In two days time, I will destroy the nest that is there. In two days time, I will show you that it not us who should be afraid of them.” He looked around at the misguided men all around him with steel in his eyes and iron in his jaw. “I will show you it is them who should be afraid of us.


//I woke up before my alarm. I fell back asleep I had the following dream that felt like it last for hours. When my alarm woke me, I realized I had been asleep for 15 minutes. I love my room. Kitchen, dining, living, study, and bed room all in one connected space, with only a separation for the shower and toilet. To your left when you enter is a wall length window and sliding glass doors through which a secluded beach and the Pacific can be seen. I sat on the little arm of the sectional leather couch in my living room area. My back was to the door to the rest of the house. I could hear muffled music coming through it. Below me was an identical copy of my room belonging to my co-writer, the keyboard player in our band. Further below him was our humble, cool, little basement studio. Our two rooms were connected by a two story common area that existed in a never-settling variety of furniture arrangements. Tonight the ground floor was a dance pit, and the second floor a place for the dancers to rest and talk. I was focused on my pounding heart and head when I heard the doorknob cautiously begin to turn. I leaped up and ran to the door. Already a crowd was trying to push its way through the door frame. I held my arms as wide open as I could and herded the partygoers back to the commons. No, I can’t. I’m done for tonight, thanks. Next time, I promise. Happy Birthday but really I can’t. With tremendous effort, I reclosed the door and locked it. The knob twisted in vain two, three times before coming to a stop. Only then did I notice, I had let one person slip through under my arm, and now she stood on the tiles of the kitchen area. I had forgotten her name. I think it was Kate. We had met before, and I knew her well. She loved the Beatles, and we bonded listening to them. Her father left her all their albums in vinyl. She was from Seattle and moved to LA three years ago to work with a fashion company. She was always dressed well. Tonight she wore a simple white shirt with sleeves that went down to just past her elbows and an incredibly short black skirt that showed her long legs. Her skin was so pale it almost seemed to glow. But, truthfully, I only remember clearly her red, full lips. “Welcome back,” I greeted her. “Want something to drink?” “I’m set, thanks,” she said gesturing to the red solo cup in her hand. I went back to the living room area and knelt by the entertainment consol. I placed the needle on Revolver, my favorite Beatle’s album. She followed and sat close to me when I returned to my spot on the couch. “Shall we kiss a bit?” she asked, slowly throwing her leg over my lap, straddling me and gently touching my cheeks. I reached up and held her round face in my hands. Her curly, chestnut hair fell around me as she closed the gap between her lips and mine. Kissing her was like kissing the air. Her lips were so soft they felt like feathers on mine, even when I held her head close. It was like eating the lightest cream that melts before it reaches your tongue leaving only the taste behind. When she pulled away for air the only proof I had we had kissed was her ruby lips so close to me, and the taste of strawberry lip balm on my lips. She hummed the bass to Taxman. We continued to kiss through side A. “I am sorry, but I am too tired for any more fun tonight,” she said apologetically when I stood to turn over the record. “You are perfect,” I said. “I feel the same way.” This was not entirely true. I also felt tremendously lonely, but she was a helping with that and other feelings. She rose slowly, reached her arms around my neck and kissed me again. I let her lead me back to the bed area, feeling the floor transition from wood to carpet. I held her close and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as Revolver spun down. I woke to the sun shining on my face through the window above my desk. I looked over my favorite guitars, that I kept arrayed in a semi-circle in my study area, gleaming in the morning light. I will need to polish them soon. She was still by my side, sat up a bit and looking through her phone. I rose slightly and saw she was typing out a lie to send to a boy named Mike. “Good morning,” I said sleepily. “Good morning, love,” she responded, setting down her phone, and leaning in for another breathless kiss. “I made some coffee.” “You are perfect,” I said dragging myself out of bed to the steaming coffee pot across the room. I poured a cup and turned around to see her. She wore one of my t-shirts and her brown hair was wonderfully disheveled. Her eyes were fixed on the screen in her hands. I drank half the coffee and placed the cup on the counter. I stepped onto the cool tiles of the bathroom. I turned on the water and stepped into the shower. After a minute, she joined me, and we fulfilled the unspoken promise from the night before. We had sex, holding on to the tub’s faucet and door’s handle bar for support as the hot water and steam made everything wet. After we finished, we rested in the tub for a while letting the hot water pour over us. She declared she wanted to go to the beach. I finished my coffee as she put on a bikini she found in my closet. She left through the sliding door, struggling a bit with its weight. I rummaged through her clothing and bag, looking for some identification that could tell me her name. I found only her wallet, which contained 50 dollars and a gift card to some boutique. I tried her phone, but it was locked with a pass code. Frustrated, I ate a breakfast, before joining her wearing just my boxer shorts. It was early enough that the sand was not yet hot. I found her with her toes standing on the wet sand, her feet occasionally submerged by the cold, Pacific water. When I reached her, she took my hand and pulled me into the surf and we played and wrestled in the waves. It was fun. Eventually, we found ourselves back on the dry sand letting the midmorning sun evaporate the water from our bodies. “I am sorry,” I said at last. “But, I can’t remember your name.” “You can call me, Kitty,” she said not the least bit offended. My gut told me the name was as fake as the one she told me the last time, but I dared not question it. I forgot it just the same. We lay there for hours talking and holding hands, not wanting to move anything. When we stood up our backs were coated in a thick layer of sand. We washed ourselves in the Pacific, before returning to my lovely room on the beach. //Thank you for reading.


\[Trigger Warning: War, combat, death, attempted suicide - but it's not the main subject of the story\] This is fairly intense, so please use your best judgement.. Everything you're about to read is real and this is the best I can recall the events that took place. I will not share any real names, no real dates, this is my story and I don't want to expose anyone that doesn't want it, so all names will be fake if they need to be used. For those of you that have never seen a war from the frontlines, this what it looks like, I'll do my best to paint a picture. For those that have, my experience is nowhere near some of the stories I've heard. I consider myself fortunate to not have been deployed during the OIF campaign. \-- *\*takes a deep breath\** This mission lasted around 5 days if I remember correctly, we moved out at night on the first day. Easily 6 miles with a metric shit-ton of gear, but not nearly as heavy as I've carried before. The mission we packed the heaviest, my ruck (backpack essentially), weighed around 150lbs. The heaviest I have ever weighed was 145lbs, currently sitting around 130-135 for reference. Just standing up was a struggle, let alone walking miles with it at night. I fell often, in fact, my squad was so used to me tripping and falling, we got to the point where we'd just laugh about my clumsiness, they'd help me up if they were nearby, and we'd continue on. Back to the first night. Nothing exciting happened, we moved in at night and secured a perimeter around this building in the middle of nowhere, and waited for the sun to come up. We were securing an abandoned school so we could set up an observation post for some special forces unit. I wasn't special forces, let's get that straight right now. We set up around the school and as the sun came up, we started to move inside and secure it. Every day from then on, at about 5pm, we'd get shot at. It was nothing crazy, they were just harassing us, and they're smart- they wanted to see how we would react, what we do, and they studied us over the next couple days. The night before my "personal hell" my squad went out to see if we could find the places we were getting shot at from, looking for brass on the ground, dug in positions, anything that could be used against us. As we sat outside the school holding guard, each of us were in pairs and I was paired with a Sergeant, we'll call him Ky for the purpose of our story. Ky and I had gotten to know each other throughout our deployment, he was attached to my squad as a Spotter with his Sniper counter-part. When you are sitting in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night, what do you talk about? Everything and anything that comes to mind. We talked about home, the crazy shit we had gotten into before the military, girls we'd dated, girls we loved, our favorite whiskey, our favorite music and artists. Everything that came to mind. At this point, we had been deployed for about three or four months, we'd been shot at multiple times, we were used to the conditions, and the people in our squad were brothers. I would die over and over again for each one of them without hesitation. I wish I contacted them more now that we've all separated, but I haven't in a long time. The same guys that were on the squad at the beginning of the deployment were the same that would be on the squad at the end, all we did was get to know each other's stories on missions. Ky was no different. I knew he was recently married to his high school sweetheart, I knew they were planning kids, I knew the things that close friends would know and my heart hurts for this every day. The next day, we were prepared. 4pm rolled around and we were setting people up on the roof, we knew we'd get shot at, just like every day, and this time we weren't just going to let them harass us. A platoon from 1st ID came out to help us with our mission, they brought trucks with the bigger guns, the .50 cals, the mk18s, and they positioned them in a half circle around the school, waiting for the first round to come in. Some fucking help that unit was. The school was shaped like a U but more like this I\_\_I , I would've been on the bottom right corner with a mk48 machine gun by myself. Somewhat next to me was my roommate and probably my closest friend, he had another machine gun, m240 bravo. The guns aren't relevant, well.. mine might be. 5pm nears and everyone gets in position behind their weapons, the smoking and joking subsides, it is so quiet I could hear my heart in my ears. When you are about to take contact, several things happen: it becomes eerily silent, all the kids that were out playing disappear, no one can be found, you always feel it before you hear it. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, the pit in your stomach, and the feeling that something just isn't right. This led to the firefight, but it wasn't the most important part. A sandstorm had been moving in all day, it wasn't going to be anything crazy, but it was enough to take our air support offline. All our birds went away, and they fucking knew it too. Cracks and snaps start to mix in with the dirt being blown all over. When you're getting shot at, you know it. But what you don't know is where it's coming from. In this scenario? Fucking everywhere. About 800meters in front of my position and in nearly a half circle in front of the school, muzzle flashes started appearing. The only light thing we could see through the sandstorm. Everyone started returning fire. Time passes incredibly fast when your adrenaline is flowing, this firefight would go on for 4 hours, and I only remember a few things happening. My gun jammed. I go through the proper motions to clear the jam, fire, it jams again. Repeat the process 5 or 6 times at least, before something interrupted me. I heard someone call out an RPG and when I looked up, I shit you not, this thing was coming right at me. I'd only seen them in video games, and that was no comparison.. I didn't know what it was at first, but it felt like everything was in slow motion. I reached up for just a second to see how close it was. I felt like I could've touched it. Maybe a foot, foot and a half above my right shoulder. The slow motion ended as it passed me, and it hit the center of the building behind me. Later we would come to find out that my gun would be considered blacklined. Unusable. The best time for it break, and sure as fuck, it did. We would also learn later that that RPG landed where the ladder to roof was (about 10 feet behind me), and there was definitely a guy standing on top of the ladder. How he survived, I don't know, it had to of blown up in his face and he easily took a 15 foot fall backwards into the school courtyard, only to put the ladder back up and go back up to the roof. My squad leader must've recognized something was wrong, he surprised the shit out of me when I felt him dive next to me and take cover. Running across this roof right now is insane, he must've been 6'2, the dude is one of biggest targets out there, what a fucking badass. He comes over and starts figuring stuff out with me, leaves me ammo, his m4 until we can figure my gun out, and then moves on to the next soldier. My eyes diverted to where he went, off to my right where he laid next to my roommate. I looked past them. On the opposite corner of the building to me, I saw Ky, kneeling on one knee firing 40mm grenades out of his launcher. *\*another deep breath, and here come the tears\** Ky fell backwards onto his back and scooted back, he had turned around and saw that I was looking at him. We made eye contact and he was waving his arm over his head at me, the whole thing, trying to give me a signal. I didn't get it.. until his body went limp. Everything hit me at the same time, but the first word out of my mouth was "medic." I whispered it at first, not realizing how loud everything was around me.. and then everything really hit me. I screamed it and pointed at Ky. People started scrambling, his sniper hadn't even noticed yet. It was me. It was only me. I watched the whole thing unfold before my eyes, I couldn't look away. My medic stripped him down, I could see the blood from where I was, I was in a trance.. Until someone slapped the back of my helmet. My squad leader was somehow on the other side of me, I must've looked shell shocked as fuck, but he brought me back. "Don't look at it, we'll find out what happened later, but right now you need to keep your head in the right place. What happened to your gun?" "It keeps jamming, I can't fix it." My squad leader starts messing with it only to realize what I said was true. He gave it back to me and said "It follows you. Bring it in case we can fix it, but we need a gun over there." "In Ky's position?" "That's the one, get ready to move, stay low and right on my ass." "MOVE!" I grabbed my gun and sprinted with him across the roof, bullets were flying everywhere around us. Everything felt like a blur at that point, my mind was a mess. I don't even remember getting to where I was.. but I remember.. Standing straight up when I got to the other side of the roof. All of a sudden the bullets coming at me didn't matter. People were yelling at me, telling me to get down. And I just stood there, staring at the ground in front of me. There was so much blood. Caked in the dirt, it was dark, but it was everywhere and there was no mistaking what it was. I looked at my squad leader, who was already laying down next to it, I just looked at him. He must've known I was asking him "do I have to?" Subconsciously of course, but he nodded his head and grabbed my wrist. I only let him pull me to my knees, and then I laid completely down in Ky's blood. From my chest to my knees I could feel it. I didn't cry, I didn't do anything besides shoot back, I kept my head in the game until it was time for me to come off the roof. The gunfire didn't subside until sometime after dusk.. We finally started getting air support after I came off the roof, it had easily been four hours and they were dropping bombs so close to us, the windows of the school were shattering from the shockwaves. It didn't matter. Everything that mattered had already happened. \-- I was sick to my stomach. I took that list to the room my platoon slept in and started packing the rucksacks of the names on the list. I knew what it meant. Those were the people that were injured today, and Ky was in critical condition. Silently, I got their stuff together. I was quiet, I couldn't stop thinking about everything, but I couldn't show emotion. Not in front of everyone. If I cry, I'm weak, and I can't let my brothers know I'm weak. I packed their rucks and staged them outside the room and then went to sit in the courtyard with my squad. Solemn faces, no words. Everyone was either dipping or smoking, the guys that didn't smoke started. I was doing both, my entire body was shaking from the amount of nicotine, but I couldn't stop. I needed something, anything to take my mind off of it. I couldn't let my thoughts catch up to me, not until I could be alone. Trucks pulled up. I had no idea they were coming, but I was so happy to see them when I started recognizing faces from my unit.. They were there to pick us up, and they took up to the nearest shitty little base they could. Everyone unloaded and just sat and waited inside our tent for the news. Solemn faces all around, no emotions, the calm before the storm. I knew. I already knew, and I just wanted my suspicions confirmed. Everything in my body was tired, but I was wide awake. I needed to know. Our platoon sergeant called everyone together, he explained that Ky had taken a bullet in through the right side of his torso and what they assumed was that it ricocheted off the opposite side rib or his side plates, but it had ricocheted into his heart. He wasn't dead instantly, but close to it. I only remember seeing emotion from my medic, he was having a rough time, and it was messing with me. Most machine gunners are given a secondary weapon, the reason we assumed was that if our gun ever stopped working, the m9 was there to defend ourselves. At least until the last bullet, that one was made for my head unless I wanted to be captured. Fortunately I was never in that position, but I wanted to mention it because it's about to become relevant. Shortly after my platoon sergeant announced the news, our base started taking rocket fire. The alarms went off and we started hearing explosions once again. "For fuck's sake" was the general mood as we all filed outside to the bunker. It was completely silent, except for the alarm and explosions. No one wanted to say anything, no one knew what to say. When the alarms stopped, people filed out of the bunker, I was sitting on some sandbags and didn't move. My friends asked me if I was alright and I nearly lost it in front of them. "Just give me a minute yeah? I'll catch up with you guys." Everyone left the bunker, and finally I was alone. I lost it. I was the same kid I was in school again, bawling my eyes out, drooling on myself, the ugly cry. I couldn't handle everything that had happened, I played through the events in my head. I watched Ky wave at me over and over again, I held my knees close to me chest and just let everything out. And then, the real dark thoughts hit me. He was married, they were going to have kids, a family. He had his whole life in front of him, with such promise.. so much life. Why wasn't it me? It could've just as easily been me. Why wasn't it? I'm a single soldier, my family loves me to death, but I had nothing going for me. If I would've been killed, I would've been missed by few people.. But not like him. His support system was huge, he was much closer to his family, and he got mail all the time. His life was so much brighter than mine, and that's all I could see right then. I don't remember how we got to the next part.. it's still a blur. But I remember clearly pushing my m9 to my temple, finger on the trigger, ready to join my friend. I didn't deserve to be alive, it should've been me. "Please, why couldn't it have been me?" The tears wouldn't stop, I tried to get the strength to just end it, I didn't want to live with this. These thoughts, these memories, it was too much... then I heard someone coming and panicked, immediately pulling the gun away from my head just in time for one of my squad mates to walk into the bunker. "There you are. Come on, platoon meeting, we're waiting on you." He saw the gun in my hand. "You doing alright?" I tried to be as natural as I could. "Yeah, just give me a second." He waited outside until I could compose myself and then followed him into the tent, I get caught every time I try to do something wrong. I was always the one that got caught, and here it was, true again. But without him walking in that night, at that time, I don't know what would've happened, but I was pretty committed to that action. In the following weeks, we were required to meet with a combat counselor. As a platoon, as a squad, as individuals. We were told to tell her what we felt and to be honest, but we were also warned that if the notes she took appear that we aren't "fit for combat" they would most likely send us home. One person was moved platoons and sent home early, the poor kid was shell shocked for the majority of the deployment, combat isn't for everyone and you never know how you're going to react until the first bullet goes off. Some people freeze up, others take charge, some of us just want to make sure we do everything possible to protect the people we care about. I didn't say much to her, I said that I was the last one to see Ky alive. I cried in front of my platoon, but I didn't say anything more. I wanted to stay with them and I wouldn't risk getting sent home on my own selfishness. Damn I was stupid. When you don't take care of your mental health, it will continue to decline, these things you hold in will weigh on you eventually and break you down. It took years before I finally went to therapy, and even then, I'll tell you the only reason I went was to get my dog certified as an Emotional Support Animal so I could bring her to school with me. In the end, she didn't get certified, but I did get help. Thank you for reading and letting me share this memory of mine with you.. I hope it made you feel something.


The grandson was looking out of the window, down at the woods that ran through his wildest imaginations. "Hey!" a voice shouts from behind him. He turns to see his grandpa standing in the doorway. "What are you doing up this late at night?" Grandpa questioned. "I can't fall asleep, can you tell me a story?" the grandson asked. “There once was a great shining knight...” Grandpa started before being interrupted by his grandson. “I’ve already heard this story before, can you tell a different one this time, Grandpa?” the grandson pleaded with beading eyes. “Alright,” Grandpa said before putting down the book, “I have a special story for you.” “Where’s the book?” the grandson questioned, sitting up from his bed to look at Grandpa’s hands. “There is no book for this one, this is from the heart.” “But how will I read this story again?” the boy continuing with his everlasting questions. “Whenever you’re sitting in your bed, just like now, and you need something to entertain yourself, just think to yourself, and the story will come to you,” Grandpa explained. “But...” the grandson began before Grandpa coaxed him to pull up his covers and get comfortable. “This story is about a kid, just like you,” Grandpa pointed to the grandson, “and how he and his friend went on an adventure in the wilderness, just them two, no adults, no supervision.” Grandpa continued, “Are you ready?” The grandson replied with a simple nod. Sam was walking down the streets of Decatur, Tennessee, a small town of two hundred people right outside Knoxville. He walked into the small convenience store, picked out a Coke, put a nickel on the counter, and left. He continued his stroll through the town, passing by his school, which filled all the kids of the town, including his best friend, Dew. Sam has known Dew since before they could even remember anything. 10 years later, they were still as close as anyone could be. Sam, now remembering about Dew, ran like a gazelle to his house. He leaped over fences, ran through bushes, and eventually arrived at Dew’s house. Dew’s family lived in a simple, 1-story house that you could tell they’ve tried keeping up, but have let go over the last few years. They had a large field in their backyard that led to the woods where Sam and Dewey would spend their adventures. However, they had never gone past the creek that marked the boundary between Dew’s backyard and the unknown, respectively called “The Damned Creek”. They’ve always dared each other to go over the creek, but the farthest anyone’s made it was a simple hop, and then a hop back- “Wait, they were scared of the woods?” the grandson interrupted. “Yes, and they had a very good reason to,” Grandpa cheerfully replied. The grandson sat in silence for a minute, pondering. “Well I wouldn’t be scared of no woods, even if I was just a baby,” the grandson finally stated. “Oh grandson, you still are just a baby. Now settle down and let’s finish this story.” Summer had just started, so Sam had a plan in mind for the boys. Sam knocked on the wooden door and promptly opened it and entered the room. Dew’s family had treated Sam as one of their own, so they didn’t mind. Sam ran through the dusty, ragged house, each stomp feeling it might pummel through the creaking floorboards. He saw Dew in the old rocking chair in the living room. “Hey Dew!” Sam blurted out the second he entered the room. “Hey Sam!” Dew ecstatically responded. “I have an idea,” Sam left Dew wondering. “What’s the idea?” Dew questioned. Sam took the old walking stick by the front door and pointed towards the backyard with it, “We’re going to where no man has ever gone before!” he exclaimed. “We- We’re going to th- the woods?” Dew stuttered. “We are going to fully explore the other side of The Damned Creek, and there is nothing and no one who is going to stop us,” Sam proudly said with his fists on his hips. “But how will we ever get back?” Dew nervously responded. Sam sensed Dew’s apprehensiveness, and comforted him, “Don’t worry Dew, we’re just gonna go over to the other side, look around, and then come back.” “That’s it?” Dew, still nervous, but feeling slightly better. “That’s it, now let’s pack our essentials and leave after the sun dips below the tip of that tree,” Sam pointed to the large apple tree residing in the backyard. Dew nodded and went into his bedroom to pack. The boys walked with their backpacks full of food and tools such as knives, apples, and even hammers. They were unsure of the frontier, but Sam was ready to enter and Dew was still apprehensive, but was mostly ready. They encountered the fresh-water creek that divided the two lands from each other. The two boys looked at each other, giving each other the go-ahead signal to enter the unexplored territory, and suddenly, they jumped together. Birds flew out of the area, heading towards the heavens as the boys trekked along the frontier. They hacked and slashed through the shrubbery which crowded the forest floor with Sam’s homemade pocket-knife. Dew had his father’s binoculars out, hoping to see a rare species of birds fluttering about. The sun shone through the forest top, breaking through pockets of space, revealing the numerous leaves around. Sam took out his compass and asked Dew, “Do you remember what direction your house is in?” Dew looked around, but was confused as all the directions looked the same, “I’m not sure...” Dew said apprehensively. Sam looked down at the compass, in which the needle was pointing west. “It says that we are going west, so I guess your house is in the East,” Sam concluded. “No... no, that can’t be right because the forest is to the right of my house,” Dew worriedly cried. “Well then how are we going towards your house if we’ve been traveling in the same direction for the past 30 minutes?” Sam questioned. “I don’t know, but I think we should go back--” Right on cue, as if God was watching from above, clouds surrounded the sky, and lightning struck, sending the boys into panic. They frantically ran in a direction, much less worried about being lost, and more worried about the imminent threat of weather. The boys jumped and ducked and weaved their way through branches, shrubs, and trees. Out of breath, they stopped to catch their breath, panting like a dog who had been running for hours. “Hey, what direction did we run in now?” Dew asked Sam. Sam put his hands in his pockets when he didn’t feel anything. He then put his hand in his backpack to locate the compass. He didn’t feel anything either. A sudden sense of fear and panic struck Sam like a train and he didn’t feel too good. “Dew, I... I think I need to--” Sam woke up in a rush. “Woah, woah, woah, you need to stay down there buddy,” Dew coaxed Sam, “You were out a little while, it’s almost sunfall, we need to get out of here now.” Sam looked around to see the orange reflection of the sun bounce off the leaves of the trees. He got himself up and studied the area once again. He noticed the way the shadows were casted. “Look,” Sam pointed to the base of the trees, “See how the shadow is pointing that way (he pointed towards the right of the tree).” Dew nodded. “That means the sun must be in the opposite direction of the shadows,” Sam exclaimed, “And since the sun always sets in the West, we must follow it to your house. The boys excitedly picked up their stuff to head back home when they suddenly heard a growl from nearby. Dew and Sam simultaneously turned their heads in the direction of the noise and saw a large gray wolf. Its beady yellow eyes stared into the flesh of the boys, giving its signal that it wants to have dinner. “Um, Sam, we should... you know... run” Dew mentioned to Sam. Sam motioned his finger to his mouth as a way of telling Dew to shut up. Sam picked up a rock from next to his foot. “The second this rock hits that tree, we run,” Sam told Dew, who nodded in agreement. Sam wound up his arm, and looked at Dew for a second, and launched the rock. It made a large cracking sound as it hit the bark. The wolf turned its attention to the noise as the boys took off. They ran and ran, harder than ever before. They felt like cheetahs as the trees and grounds whipped past them as they chased the sun. The sun was glowing through the sky, giving Earth its goodbye, as the boys hurried towards the house. They did not look back to see if the wolf was chasing them or not. They just ran. Sam looked ahead and saw a tiny dip in the land, it must have been the creek he thought. Sam took off faster now. Dew, though, could not see the creek and was almost depleted of any energy. Sam took one graceful leap across the creek, and made it safely to homeland. Dew staggered behind, panting. Sam also panted, but from the safety of the known land. Sam laughed and turned around to head home when he heard a shrilling scream. He looked back at Dew to see the wolf had, indeed, caught up to them and was mere feets away from Dew. Dew’s back was to Sam, and Sam could not do anything to disturb the wolf. He simply must spectate his friend’s situation. The sun had fallen from the sky, giving way to darkness in the world. Dew slowly stepped back away from the wolf, inching closer and closer to the creek. The wolf’s fangs were glaring, even to the point where Sam could see its whiteness cut through the dark. Sam knew that Dew must act fast, or else it would not be good news. He had one solution. He took his backpack off and started running towards the wolf. Dew heard rapid footsteps approaching behind him and yelled. Sam jumped and threw his backpack at the wolf, knocking it down and grabbed Dew with him. They ran back, through the field, and finally, into the house. “Geez boys, I haven’t seen you all day and you just run into my house like that?” Dew’s mama exclaimed. “Oh you wouldn’t know the half of it Mama,” Dew sighed. “Alrighty then, get y’allselves cleaned, I have supper ready for you,” Dew’s mama smirked. The boys looked at each other one last time, and headed to the bathroom laughing about the events that had unfolded that day. “The End.” Grandpa sighed. “So that’s it?” the grandson questioned. “That’s it.” “But what about--” Grandpa cut him off before he could finish the sentence. “I think it’s time for bed now, not time for buts and what ifs,” Grandpa said as he tucked his grandson to bed.


Our load was from Carson CA to Chicago. Picked up in CA on Monday and load due in IL Wednesday morning. We knew we were going to be driving into some bad weather, but we've spent whole winters in the NE and been in lots of snow and ice. Six years experience, each. My co-driver, Preston and I were well prepared, extra water, extra food, warm clothes, truck just fully serviced. We're good to go. We thought we'd beat the worst of it and make it to Chicago. Worst case we'd lay over in a hotel once we got there and wait for conditions to improve. I drive days and Preston drives nights. We switched shifts in St Robert MO. It had been raining since about Tulsa and the temperature had been steadily dropping, but still in the 40's. Watching the radar closely and saw the snow bands coming but still thought we could make it to Chicago before the worst of the storm hit. Just north of Bloomington IL, things go from meh to terrible in just a few miles. Preston started seeing jackknifed trucks everywhere. He's driving about 15-20 mph and it's still really sketchy. He decided he needed to get off the road. The Limestone Rest Area is 30 miles ahead and he decides that's where he's going to stop. Even that distance, took several hours, but he made it safely and parks on the shoulder at the rest area entrance. We're good. I hadn't slept very well even though I trust Preston's driving ability 100%, I knew what was ahead and how things can go south in a second, so I was up at about 0630 (normally 0800). I get up and come out of the sleeper and it's bad. Really bad. Really windy, blowing snow, truck is covered in ice. Preston is telling me how bad it was and I thank him for getting us safely off the road. What little traffic is still on I-55 is crawling. Shortly after, the state police close the interstate. We're good though, more than a quarter tank of fuel, plenty of food and water, safely off the road. That quarter tank will easily last 50-60 hours at idle. It is what it is, but we're safe and warm. These trucks at idle will build up soot in the diesel exhaust filter. After about 6-8 hours of idling they will run an automatic "re-gen" where the diesel engine runs up the idle and burns off the soot. So it starts it's re-gen, which is no big deal. Normally. About 15 minutes into the re-gen, alarms start going off. WTF? Low coolant alarm, overheat warning, engine shutdown warning. This isn't good. I think, eh, the grill probably has snow and ice blocking the airflow, probably not that bad. I get out to look and I see the bright red all over what snow hadn't been melted by the hot coolant, there's coolant all over the ground. This is bad. I take a look under the truck and under the hood, trying to determine where the leak is. Hoping maybe because it overheated, it just blew off some coolant. We'll add some and perhaps we'll be good. So we add coolant and start the truck back up. All the alarms are cleared, maybe we're okay. I get out to look and there's a steady stream of coolant coming out from right below the radiator. Maybe it is just a hose. By the time I get back in the truck all the alarms are going off again. Now we keep tons of stuff in the truck to make at least temporary repairs so we can get back on the road. If it's just a hose or a broken clamp or something, we can fix it. Then I think, if it's not something simple and I get down in the snow and get wet and colder and I can't fix it, at least temporarily, now I'm colder and wetter and we have no heat in the truck. Probably better not risk it. That turns out to be a great decision. We start calling for roadside assistance and or a tow. We also call back to our shop in CA, hoping they can find someone to assist as our prospects are pretty bleak. Best case was 24 hours, mostly I'm told we can't even put you on a waiting list. Starting to look serious rather than just inconvenient. California calls back, "got a wrecker coming for you, ETA 90 minutes". That's amazing, thanks for the help, I owe you a twelve pack! Several hours go by, it's down to about 45 degrees in the truck. I call the wrecker company for an update. State Police are commandeering wreckers to try to clear the road. We're working our way towards you but still over 20 miles away and there's trucks crashed and jackknifed everywhere. Currently no ETA. This sucks. The wrecker company dispatch tells me that we're at the worst rest area in the state and that there's no facilities. We're parked too far away to even see if there's a building or not. Google Maps shows there's a building. But the dispatcher is local, surely he would know. What if we walk the nearly 1⁄2 mile to the building and it's closed? Or not heated? If we expend all the energy, get colder and wetter walking over there and have to walk back, we're screwed. We'll wait. A couple more hours go by, down to 35 degrees in the truck. We're bundled up but still cold. Can't run the truck even briefly. This is really bad. About another hour goes by and we both, within about 5 minutes of each other, start uncontrollably shivering. We have to do something. We're about 5 miles south of Pontiac IL. Out of extreme positive thinking, I try Uber and Lyft both, yeah, that's not going to happen. I Google taxi's, yeah, no. I trythe. I try the CB radio for 20 minutes. No one even answers. I call the Pontiac police department and explain our situation. No, we're overwhelmed, try the State Police. I do, "sorry, nothing we can do, you're at a rest area, shelter inside the building." We gather up some supplies, I put plastic bags over my shoes to keep them dry, Preston has waterproof hiking shoes on. We're good. We set out for the rest area building and warm shelter. We hope. I don't want to sound overly dramatic, but this is my recollection... Now Preston is 30 years old and in decent shape. I'm 63, sadly a smoker and have put on far too much weight in 6 years of being on the road. But it's less than half a mile. I didn't even think about it, other than it's going to be cold. I might add here we live in Arizona, other than getting out to fuel or drop a trailer or the few other things we have to do when we're in cold weather, we don't really do cold. We're acclimated to the desert. About half way to the building, I realize I may be in trouble. The snow is shin deep, it's like 10 degrees. I'm already having trouble taking deep breaths because of the cold air. I ask Preston to slow down some, which he doesn't want to do, but thankfully he does. We keep walking, my chest starts hurting, I think to myself, not like heart attack pain, it's just because of the cold air. The building, shelter, is about another 100 yards. I got this. That last 100 yards was surreal, I don't want to say I saw my life flash before my eyes, but it was terrifying. I had to stop, I told him, "I don't think I'm going to make it". He was like whatever dude, it's right there. I felt like I was going to collapse. There's only a few times in my 63 years I can remember real fear. This was the top one. I prayed over the last 50 yards. Finally, inside, a coffee vending machine, something hot to drink. The best coffee I ever had in my life! It took me an hour to recover. I was embarrassed, how could I almost not be able to walk a 1⁄2 mile? I made a commitment to lose weight, excercise more and quit smoking. It took about 8 hours more for the wrecker to reach us. We got up to Batavia IL and a hotel finally at 0400. I passed out. Turns out it was the radiator, it had developed a leak. The next day we were back on the road.


“...Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” The pastor's words reverberated throughout the small building, louder and more clear than any of the others he had spoken that day. As Tristan looked at the woman holding tightly to his hands, he couldn't remember including that part in the vows. It was antiquated, out of date and something no one did anymore...right? But now, with the question hanging in the air like the scent of freedom and happiness, he was inundated with a thousand reasons why the people at the front of the room shouldn't be joined together for the rest of their lives... He looked out over the church, a droplet of sweat slipping down his temple. Scanning, his eyes at last landed on a slender form with long, honey blond hair. Tessa. His heart lurched at the same time that his mind sped backwards. He was six, Tessa five, and she glared at him with sparking blue eyes, her hands on her hips. “I'm gonna marry you one day, Tristan Rawlings, just you wait. And then you have to ask to kiss me first.” Tristan grinned. “That's not how it works, Tess. When we get married, I get to kiss you whenever I want.” Her hand tightened into a tiny fist, which she held up to him with a threatening glower. “I'd like to see you try.” He put his hand up to her fist and gently worked her fingers open until they were palm to palm. “I'm sorry, Tessa. I promise I'll ask next time.” With narrowed eyes, she squinted back at him, softening. “You better.” Memories filtered through like an old photo album, until Tristan, standing sweating in front of a hundred people, landed on another one in particular. Sweet sixteen, and Tessa Marlowe was the star of the hour, glamorous and glowing. Tristan watched as she blew out her candles and laughed, eyes sparkling, the dimple to the side of her mouth making an appearance just to stab him in the heart. Matty Jenkins put his hand on Tessa's waist, and looked over his shoulder to where Tristan stood in the corner of the room, hands clenched in fists at his sides. Matty's filthy paws shouldn't be allowed anywhere near Tessa, and Tristan knew a deep urge to remove both of them violently. It was later in the evening, when he overheard Matty informing the other guys of what he expected that night, that Tristan felt the urge spill over into a white hot rage that blinded him until someone much larger pulled him off a trembling, bloody lipped Matty sprawled in the dirt. Tristan's heart dropped when he saw Tessa, eyes wide with shock and concern. He was gonna pay for his loss of control, and only he knew how deeply. But then, to his confusion, she stepped towards him, her hand outstretched. He stood motionless, afraid any movement would wake her to the mistake she was making. Her fingers, feather light, touched his cheek, the skin hot where Matty must have got a swing to land before Tristan tackled him to the ground. Tristan swallowed, then spoke hoarsely. “I'm sorry, Tess. He just - he said - ” Her thumb brushed his bottom lip. “I heard what he said.” Her eyes, silver-blue in the moonlight, flicked up to meet his, and his breath hitched. Her lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “My knight in shining armor.” The smirk faded, leaving her expression open and unguarded. Then, with one hand on his arm, she went up on her tiptoes and leaned in, brushing her lips ever so gently over the bruise on his cheekbone. She stepped back, her hand slipping down his arm to join their fingers, and tugged him behind her as she stepped barefoot through the yard, past Matty with her chin lifted high, and away into the house. The party was forgotten while she smiled shyly at him and held ice to his cheek. Looking up into his face, she pursed her lips to the side in contemplation. “I don't know what I was thinking. Going out with Matty, I mean.” “Eh, we all make mistakes sometimes. I knew you'd come back around in time. I mean,” he forced a grin, even though her nearness was wreaking havoc on his pulse, “you did say you were gonna marry me one day.” She swatted his arm and laughed, even as her cheeks went pink. “Tristan Rawlings. I was five years old.” He caught her hand in his. “Five and a half. Plenty old enough to know what's best for you.” Eyes lowered, she giggled, but he could tell it wasn't a real laugh. With one finger, he tipped her chin up so he could see her face. “What's wrong, Tess?” She shook her head quickly, as though shaking off a thought, but he could see a glimmer of a tear in her eye. “It's nothing. Thanks, Tris, for being my friend.” In his teenaged mind, Tristan had felt those words as though she had slapped him. Friend zoned, and just as he thought he was getting somewhere. But now, after years with a dark haired woman who constantly made him feel that he would never measure up, he saw Tess's face through different eyes, and thought that maybe, just maybe, she had defined him as a friend purely to protect herself. He thought back to the night before, at the rehearsal dinner, where he had seen her slip away and followed her without even thinking twice. She moved quickly to the gazebo in the center of the grassy park, and stood with her hands on the railing looking over the water. The sun was setting in front of her, and made a halo of gold and pink around her, reflecting off the water to sparkle and shimmer in a frame that fit her beauty. Where had that thought come from? No sooner had he questioned his thoughts than his shoulders relaxed with the unequivocal knowledge that it was true. His best friend was beautiful. She always had been and he'd always known it. Just because he was set to tie his life to someone who would punish him for even allowing those thoughts to rise to the surface didn't make them untrue. With long, even strides, he made his way through the soft grass and joined her at the railing, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he leaned a shoulder against a post. When she looked up at him, meeting his curious gaze, his heart constricted in his chest. A tear, glinting in the light, trickled down her cheek, and she made no move to erase it. “Tess?” Her name was all he could get out, an uneasy feeling rendering his mind blank except for pain and concern. She smiled, and it was a knife twisting. “It's okay, Tristan. I'm okay. Just promise me something?” “Anything,” he breathed out. A dry chuckle was her first response. “Don't over commit, Rawlings.” “I trust you, Marlowe. More than anyone else.” She shook her head and looked back out over the water, a shuddering sigh causing her shoulders to tremble. Then she looked back over at him, and he was taken aback by the fury in her eyes. “You don't get to say that to me anymore, Tristan Rawlings. Not while that she-beast is in there waiting to swallow you whole.” He stood up straight and took a step back. “Whoa, Tessa, c'mon, that's not fair.” She took an aggressive step towards him and stabbed a finger into his chest. “No. It is more than fair. You know it as well as I do. You're just too blinded by propriety and what your mother wants to recognize it. Listen to what you just said to me. You're about to promise your life to someone you don't even trust. You're about to give your heart away to someone who you know won't value it and treasure it like the gift that it is. She's mean to everyone around you, Tristan. And even sometimes to you, she just covers it with just enough sugar that you're blinded.” She drew in a long, deep breath, closing her eyes briefly before opening them to look directly into his, searing his soul with the depth of sincerity and love he saw there. “So, promise me that you'll think long and hard about this tonight, about her. About love. Promise me you'll choose love, not obligation.” It was his turn to draw in a shaky breath at the enormity of what she was saying. “Tess, I - ” One corner of her mouth lifted and she moved her hand to cup his cheek. “It's okay, Tris. If you choose her, if she is what you truly want...it's okay. Really. I just want you to be happy.” Her hand dropped and she took a step back, the cold air rushing between them like a chasm. “I'm gonna head home now.” Desperation clawed at him, and he didn't even know why. “I'll see you tomorrow?” Her head tilted to the side and she looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “If that's what you want.” “Please, Tess. You have to be there.” He swallowed any more words that wanted to come before he started begging. Another searching look, and then she nodded. “I will. 'Bye, Tristan.” She turned her back to him and her sandaled feet made swishing sounds in the grass as she moved away with a jarring finality. Why did he suddenly hurt all over? And now, his eyes found hers across the heads of the entire congregation, and he was moving towards her, his feet carrying him as though his heart had taken his body captive. There was a rush of shocked whispers, his mother calling his name, his bride swearing and demanding he stop whatever ridiculous notion he had. At the back of the church, she stood by the door as though keeping escape close to hand. It seemed an eternity just to get to her side, not because of the disapproving stares and the recrimination that was bound to follow, but because he found that he had to be near her, he needed to touch her, to feel her heart close to his own. A foot away now, he held out his hand, and her fingers slipped over his palm before threading through his. “I choose love,” he whispered. “I choose you.” One tear trickled down her cheek and she let out a choking laugh as his thumb caught the silvery moisture before it dropped. “I chose you a long time ago.” “I know that now. It just took me a little longer to realize you felt the same as me.” With a glance over his shoulder at the fuming woman in white, he said quietly, “Let's get outta here.” “I thought you'd never ask.” She grinned up at him, and of one accord, hands clasped tight, they ran out the back doors. At the back of the church, after tugging the bow tie loose and flinging it into the dirt, he tugged Tessa closer and let his eyes roam over her face, lingering on her lips. “Tess.” “Yes, Tristan?” “As per my promise twenty years ago, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to kiss you now.” Her sky blue eyes held his gaze. “Can I say something first?” He swallowed. “As long as you make it quick.” Her breath of laughter was tantalizingly close. “I changed my mind. You don't ever have to ask me first again.” And so he didn't.


Sticky notes littered his bedroom wall. Yellow, green, blue, and the hot pink that used to be yours. He kept a pen in his pocket, a black ball point, and a notepad in the other one. He forgot a lot of things. Simple things, like what he ate for breakfast, and important things too, like doctor appointments. He remembered the day you two met though. One of the only long-term things he remembered. He didn’t remember what you were wearing or the place, but he remembered the feelings. The scramble of getting your number on his phone because he was afraid that if he wrote it in his notepad, he’d forget about it until next year. You had laughed at his haste, but complied, writing in Someone for the name. He texted you to make sure it was right, and you parted ways soon after. He never changed your contact name. He forgot to turn his alarm on that night, forgot to feed his tiny fish, forgot to take out the trash. But he remembered to text you good night. Your love was fast. He didn’t forget you. Sometimes he’d forget why he was feeling so giddy, why his heartbeat was acting up. But then he’d look down and see he was talking with you. You were always patient with him. Always. Sometimes you’d ask him a question and he’d blank out and ask you to say it again. You knew the whole conversation was out of his head by then. He’d write down his favorite parts though. You moved from texting to calling in summer. He’d put you on speaker and sit low on his couch, writing down the important things, things you might bring up later. You moved to facetime in the fall. He sat in the seat in front of his window, the orange and red leaves serving as a beautiful background. He didn’t want you to see his sticky notes, and they were everywhere else. In the winter, you started seeing more face to face. In coffee shops, bookstores, libraries, wherever you could meet. Before you’d part, he’d read you a poem he’d written every single time. You’d touch foreheads and then leave. It was a sweet little routine. His memory grew worse. He forgot to eat sometimes, set on the fact that he must’ve eaten earlier. Even when he remembered, his fridge was mostly empty, since he forgot to shop for groceries. You moved in when sweater weather was over. You didn’t have much. Two boxes filled with clothes, and one with your other things, like your lotion collection and stationary. You didn’t have to go out to meet each other anymore, you were in the same house. He often sat cross-legged on the couch, with a blank expression, and you’d join him, laying your head on his shoulder. About the sticky notes, you said nothing, only sometimes you added on. You added ‘I love you’ and ‘Smile’ amongst the ‘Brush your teeth’ and ‘Feed the fish’. When he ran out of poems, you’d tell him ideas of what you could do together. You tried hiking together, but he tripped on a rock, earning a scar running along his arm. You had blown on it, kissed it ever so softly, your eyes clouding with worry. He didn’t like blood, didn’t like the way it dripped bright red against his pale skin. He only wore long-sleeved sweaters after that. Rarely let you drag him out. The only times he did was to see you smile. To watch your dimples come and go. You loved getting ready, wearing fancy clothes, and painting your makeup like a masterpiece. You had only come with two boxes but by that summer you had over a closet-full of clothes. He forgot to rinse his plate, forgot to brush his teeth, forgot to buy new glasses, but he remembered what you liked, remembered to get you something if he was ever out alone. You memorized his face, every freckle, every crease. He memorized your laugh and your soft touch. The scar stayed, a red line reminding him not to go out. One of the only things he didn’t really need reminding on. If he was feeling okay, then you would spend the day talking. About everything and nothing, and all the in betweens. About politics and animals and sometimes the sticky notes. While you spoke, he didn’t keep the notepad near him. He started to be afraid to lose the authenticity of just hearing your voice. If he wrote it down, he would miss the light in your eyes and smirk in your smile. He bought the ring very suddenly. It was early morning, and you were still asleep, tangled in the covers. The night before had been a talking night. His hair was starting to grow long, and you told him to cut it. He had put it in a ponytail and said he liked it that way, though you probably still remember. Deep down, he does too. The ring was simple, in case he would forget where he put it and lose it. You always loved christmas. Green and red were your favorite colors at the time. Weeks earlier, you had bought a tree and ornaments. An angel for the top. The first time he asked it was morning. The golden light was still barely peeking in through the white curtains, the birds were still stretching. He had grabbed your hand as you poured your bitter coffee and slipped the ring on your finger. He was short for words so you kissed him instead, the taste of mint evident because he finally remembered to brush his teeth. You were going to go and see the big tree in the city. It was only out the 24th and 25th and you wanted to go both days. It was the one time you didn’t need to persuade him. You took the ring off to shower. After you were almost ready, you saw him with the ring in his hand, a blank expression that you knew so well plain on his face. He actually asked that time, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. Nothing like the poet he was. The third time was the worst. He had stopped you as you were walking, getting ready to ice skate. He looked sad, and his pale skin was paler than usual. You had caressed his cheek and pressed foreheads like you used to and you continued to pick up your skates. The fourth time was on the ice. You were the one who fell for once, and as he caught you, he whispered the question in your ear. It was the most romantic one in your eyes. You wished it wasn’t ruined by your brain yelling at you that he was sick. That he probably wouldn’t remember later, that he might just forget you later. The fifth time was when you were back at home, untangling your hair from the unnecessary amount of bobby pins it had suffered through. You had cried softly into your pillow that night. It was supposed to be perfect, but life disagreed. He had apologized in the morning, and when you tried to wave it off, he told you he heard you crying. Half of his sticky note wall came down that day. He was so tired of forgetting. He wanted to love you with all his heart, mind, and soul, but he was busy trying to make sure to keep himself alive. And his fish. But it was both of your fish then, and you made sure to remind him it was okay, that you still loved him. The bad days were still there. But so were the good days. So were the good days.


RUBY SAYS: I am a woman with a ‘past’ and wonder who would marry me. I am fair, tall and have nice features. I know that if I dressed provocatively somebody would give me a wolf whistle. I have remained a spinster long enough and have decided to somehow take the plunge into matrimony. I had started reading matrimonial ads and one day this ad caught my eye : I am 43 and am a widower. My wife died of natural causes after 22 years of marriage leaving behind a daughter who is now 19. I am idealistic, broad minded and in good health. I am looking for a suitable partner. I am voluntarily unemployed as I am financially secure due to investments I have made . This ad appealed to me and I contacted the advertiser saying I am 30 and have suffered in life and was looking for an understanding partner. I said that instead of merely exchanging bio-data I would like to meet the interested person. I was quite sure the advertiser would have received many responses and wondered if he would message back to me. One Vivek responded after a fortnight. He said we could meet at lunch the following Saturday at Belvedere restaurant about 1 in the afternoon. I saw it was Tuesday and sent back a message agreeing to meet at lunch as proposed. ‘You could identify me by seeing the woman carrying a yellow Gucci handbag with gold flower pattern on it.’ On Saturday I dressed myself in grey pants with a multicoloured silk top. I had given up going to beauty salons and so only combed my abundant shoulder length hair and left without any make up. I was at the restaurant at 5 minutes to one and was entering the restaurant’s foyer when a man approached and said “I’m Vivek.” I smiled and said “I’m Ruby.” I studied him closely. He had nice features, was tall but partially bald and had a thin moustache. He was dressed in white pants which appeared baggy perhaps to his having gone down in weight. He wore a blue T-shirt on top. To me he looked more like he was about 35 though he had said his age was 43. I was impressed with his appearance and deportment. He said pointing “That is the dining hall.” I went with him as he led the way. The maitre d’ on seeing Vivek came forward and escorted us to a table where we could sit facing each other. A waiter now brought us tomato soup. Vivek said “I chose items from their standard menu and have ordered. They know me here as I visit this place often. If you prefer anything special....” I said “Nothing special is needed.” We spoke generally and I found he had a sense of humour. Or was it irony? I had yet to decipher it! After we had generally introduced ourselves I spoke up and said “The past is gone. Do we need to dissect it?” “Okay, I won’t probe.” I said “May I ask a personal question? Just curious.” He nodded. “Did you receive many responses to your ad?” He laughed and said “Yes. A variety of people answered. Mostly parents, brothers and so on. Yours was the first I saw sent on your own which impressed me.” We spent nearly two hours talking and I found he was just the man for me. I became Vivek’s wife. His daughter Jasmine couldn’t participate as her exams were near and she was in another location 500 kilometres away. 3 months later Jasmine came back. Initially she was a bit remote but soon we became friends. Jasmine said she had finished her studies and had also been selected for a job in this city where her home was. Vivek later told me “You’ve done well in making friends with Jasmine.” “She is friendly too. On work she is going to be absent from home 9 hours a day in a 5 day week. I’ll see she gets all the help at home.” Jasmine was at work for 6 months when she said “I want to invite my supervisor home for lunch. He is a very nice man. Very understanding. Teaches me new things to work better.” Dad said “Do so. I’ll order whatever foods you choose.” I said “I’ll prepare the food. And I can also order the required takeaway items. Jasmine, we’ll make it a grand event.” I was under the impression that our guest would be someone in whom she was romantically inclined. It was almost a month later that the supervisor was able to accept the invitation. He came on a Saturday at midday. Jasmine received him and brought him in. She said “Dad this is Mr.Oberoi who is my supervisor.” Dad shook hands with Oberoi. Then she came to me as I stood staring at the visitor. I greeted Oberoi and we sat talking. After a while Oberoi said “It was very pleasant talking to you people. I will introduce my wife Pearl to you after she comes back from the USA. You see she is an American national of Indian origin. It seems her family settled in California 3 or 4 generations ago. I expect her to be back by Xmas. She likes India and wants to live here like the natives!” I now served an appetiser when Oberoi said “This is what I miss in Pearl’s absence. She also prepares something excellent like this.” The lunch was elaborate and Oberoi said “I’ve had a hearty meal. Many thanks.” After Oberoi took leave Jasmine went with him to see him off in his car. I said to Vivek “I know Oberoi.” “I noted you seemed cross with him.” “No. I was only surprised to see him. I told you I have a past. It’s Oberoi.” Vivek said “As agreed I won’t ask further. Won’t you tell Jasmine about your knowing Oberoi?” “I will. All in good time! And I’ll reveal my past also to you.” * The sixth floor of the high rise apartment complex was now occupied by Modi. The postman rang the bell and said “I’m new to this locality. These 2 letters are for Jasmine.” Modi said “She doesn’t live here any more. Ask in the apartment’s office in room 24 below.” The next morning Modi started for a walk and joined old man Xavier who lived on the ground floor and would also walk at the same hour. Modi said “Xavier you’ve lived here since the apartment was commissioned. Did you know a Jasmine? Even yesterday there were letters addressed to her from various charitable organisations. They were obviously seeking donations.” Xavier said “Yes. She lived in the sixth floor you now occupy.” Xavier paused and added “There was some romance associated with Jasmine. There was an Oberoi on the 3 rd floor. I was told they came to know each other when they got stuck in the lift for an hour. After that it seems they would often meet. It was said their romance was an open secret.” Modi said “Very interesting. Please tell me more.” Xavier said “I can only tell you about rumours that spread.” “Please tell me.” “Jasmine was quite a good looker and besides Oberoi, one Jagjit who lived nearby fell for her. They say she didn’t care for Jagjit. Jasmine’s parents fixed her wedding with someone. Jagjit spread news that she had been intimate with Oberoi and the wedding was cancelled. Thereafter her parents went back to their provenance. Despite her being attractive she found no suitors. Subsequently they say she snared an old moneyed fellow to marry.” “Did Jasmine have an affair with Oberoi?” “You’re asking me a very difficult question to which I’ve no answer. All I can say is Oberoi was a nice man to move with. I’ve heard Jasmine was also very good natured. Jagjit they say was a bad type and it seems was later involved in some smuggling case. Ask Sen in the second floor. He could tell you further as he had worked as Jasmine’s colleague .” Modi met Sen and brought the talk about Jasmine and letters which kept coming to his address. Sen said “There’re mischievous elements everywhere and reputations are spoilt. Jasmine was wronged but she is now happily married.” END


I “Can you hold this for me?” “Of course.” A house of cards is an unstable thing, but I’m happy to help. I hold the Jack of Hearts as she lightly places another card on top. II “It’s swaying. I need you to hold it here too.” I nod as I watch the cards quiver and gently pinch the Queen of Spades. III She slumps on the table, the bottle of wine half-finished beside her. Her sobs shake the table as I desperately grab blindly onto cards, trying to keep the structure upright. “Can you help me?” I ask. I wish I didn’t have to, but I only have two hands. I can only do so much. She shakes her head before burying her face deep into her arms. The words are muffled but I can still hear them. “I can’t.” “But you can.” I say, the cards threatening to fall. “Start by holding one card and we can steady it together.” She reaches out and my heart rises with hope, but it’s the bottle she reaches for. IV She sits across from me, slumped in her chair. Her eyes are dry now as she drinks from another bottle. The house of cards lies between us, precarious. I’m holding my breath, my lungs tight. They ache for air, but the cards are too delicate. Too ready to fall at any provocation. She lifts a hand towards the King of Diamonds and pushes it forward. I want to reach out and catch it but it’s already too late. The King’s eyes stare up at me, pleading with me to pick him up. But I can’t. My hands are already full. V She pokes a card loose and watches the tower tumble. Watches me scramble to fix it. The Four of Diamonds falls with the Nine of Clubs. They circle around each other as if they were dancing. “Stop it!” I cry as I snatch them up. I throw them back onto what is now more of a pile than a house built with intention. My skin burns with anger and frustration. She looks at me, eyes wide with shock. The large bloodshot orbs grow wet with tears. I pick them up and try to rest the two cards back together, to show her I can fix it, but she turns away from me and begins to cry. “I’m sorry.” She does not answer. VI I watch her aimlessly throw cards onto the table. It used to be a house of cards but now it’s just a mess she won’t pick up. I feel helpless. “Maybe glue would help?” She shakes her head. Her eyes never leave mine as she blindly drops the Two of Hearts. I cringe as it falls uselessly through the air, spinning with the friction of empty space. She smirks at me. I feel like I’m going to vomit. VII I stand at the doorway. I cannot bring myself to sit with her. The cards on the table blend together so I can no longer tell them apart. “I need you to help me rebuild it.” “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She looks betrayed. “But I need you. I can’t do it without you.” “I love you, but I can’t help you anymore.” I turn to leave but I can hear her begin to cry. I hesitate, my heart heavy with guilt. What kind of a person abandons their friend? I think about turning around. About helping her try to rebuild it one last time. She hiccups and sniffles back the tears. “Selfish cunt.” I step forward, leaving the room and the table and her house of cards behind. I step forward and relief washes over me. I walk towards my own house of cards, so fragile and new. A house of cards I built with love. A house of cards for me, formed by my own two hands. A house of cards built from forgiveness and understanding. A house of cards that I know will become even stronger as it grows. The guilt constantly bites at my soul as I think of her alone in that room, but I had to leave. Even if I don’t often believe it.