Warning: racial epithets and violence My name is Brad Chao. I'm living in Chicago now but I spent my growing-up years in the Mississippi Delta. It’s now 2001 and I just turned 80 years and have been thinking lately about my early life down south. I never fit in there despite my goal of trying to be accepted. The worst thing that ever happened to me took place there when I was only a teenager. The events almost cost me my freedom and life. I ultimately had to flee for suspicion of murder with the sheriff on my tail. We Chinese were a handy target for the bullies in town but I’m getting ahead of myself. You may be curious about how I got to Mississippi in the first place. I was born in 1921 in a poor area in southern China. Rocky, dry land, and large families with too many mouths to feed. At age 15, I took off, seeking a better life. I made my way to Canton, now Guangdong, and was hired as a mess boy on a passenger ship bound for New York. I jumped ship when we arrived in port. I quickly found work in a Chinese laundry in Brooklyn but it was not a satisfying life for me, particularly since I was by myself. My uncle, Charlie Chao, had come to the U.S. around the turn of the century and settled in Rosedale, Mississippi, which had a small Chinese community. A speck of a town with a handful of rundown stores, one of which Charlie rented to sell groceries to black people. Chinese grocery stores played an important role in Mississippi rural culture because white store owners wouldn’t sell goods to them. Their stores, small shacks really, filled an important function in small towns. They served as gathering places for blacks who wanted to socialize with their neighbors and also for job-finding. They also offered credit that was essential to the very poor people. Anyway, Charlie was growing quite frail. He had sent a letter to me in Brooklyn, offering me a job in his store which I quickly accepted. I was his only heir and also his only family. He had lost his wife about 30 years previously and had no kids of his own. It was tough work, mainly because of the long hours. Sun up to sun down, 365 days a year. None of us Chinese had been to school back home and spoke poor English and, perhaps, even poorer Chinese. We lived in the back of our stores, squeezed together like sardines. Our social status in Mississippi was somewhere between the whites and blacks. We were shopkeepers which did earn us some degree of respect. But we also weren’t allowed to go to school with the whites. The county did set up Chinese school rooms for our kids, usually taught by a white teacher. We made enough money to put rice on the table but not much more. Most of the Chinese kids in town caught a bus heading out of town as soon as they could. Family ties did keep a number of Chinese in the state but under continuing and difficult circumstances, particularly from the local Klan. I won't go into that here. *** Shortly after I arrived in town, Uncle Charlie took sick and died. I then became the sole proprietor of his store which I had inherited. The Chinese community was always very supportive of me and I never felt lonely or heartsick. My life was as good as it gets down there until one evening when I seemed to have become a criminal with no special effort on my part. Bursting through the front door of my grocery store one evening came Mr. Beauregard Tavernier, dragging a large, heavy burlap sack behind him. I knew who he was from town gossip but, of course, he had never set foot in my store. I did know that he owned the largest cotton plantation in the area. He entered in a rush and obviously in a foul mood. He was grunting as he pulled a heavy sack into the room. I came out from behind the counter and respectfully bowed to him, anxious to find out what why he was there. My humble gesture didn’t seem to put him in a better mood. “Don’t just stand there, boy,” he said to me. “Can’t you see that I need help with this here load,” he shouted. “Help in what way, Mr. Tavernier? I'm sure what kind of help you need.” My question definitely put in an even fouler mood. In retrospect, it truly was a stupid question but chalk it up to me being scared shitless. “Quit your yapping, boy! I need to store this here sack out of sight for a while,” he said, glancing around the premises. He then said: “Where does that door yonder lead to?” "My storage room for canned goods and sacks of flour," I replied. "No customers are allowed back there," I replied. "That suits my purpose for my package ," he replied. "Now help me get it back there." The two of us pulled his heavy sack back to the room. Both of us were straining because it was so heavy and flopped around. “You hear me good now, boy. Y’all hold onto this for a day or two until I find a more suitable place for it. Right now, your store is my best choice, at least for a spell. No one’s gonna think of your place when lookin’ for the corpus delicti . But that’s pretty fancy talk for y'all. Pay it no mind.” “Anyone asks,” he continued, “you never seen me this night or any other. I’m goin’ to send one of my boys back here tomorrow night to collect it. You’ll need to help him boost it onto the truck. Don’t let anyone see what you’re doing. The dark night will help but there are a lot of ‘eyes’ in this part of town.” He then rushed out of the store as quickly as he had entered, never looking back. I just stood there, shaking my head and wondering what had just happened. I did not have a good feeling about it. It was clear that I had few or no other options so I went along with his directions. *** The next day around lunchtime, a sharp rap came on the front door. This time it was Sheriff Burnley who stepped inside. No one ever knocked on the door so I was on high alert to see who was there. His visit, though, set a new record for me--two high profile, white men showing up out of nowhere in my store in just two days. He looked around suspiciously and then beckoned for me to come over to him from behind the counter. I was in a state of shock, continuing from the previous night, and aware that I was in deep trouble. “You Brad Chao? he asked. “Yes, sir, how can I help you.” “Well, to start and unfortunately, there’s been a lynchin’ of a colored boy in town. Age 16 years. You may have heard some talk about this? It’s on everyone’s lips. This gossip will truly be the death of me.” “No, Sir. What you are saying is none of my business. I don’t pay no mind to town gossip. I try to keep a clean record and just run my store for my black customers who are also good citizens.” “I decide who’s a good citizen,” the Sheriff replied. “More to the point, I was told by one of your neighbors that Mr. Beauregard Tavernier was seen entering these premises last night. That seemed strange to all of us back at the station. White men don’t usually have no truk with the the Chinese and their shops. Did you, by any chance, see him last night?”. I replied, trying to keep my cool and provide him with the best, honest answer I could under the circumstances: “Sheriff, you of all folks, know that no white men would be caught dead in a Chinese grocery in town, particularly at night. Only for black folks.” “That’s sure true, the Sheriff replied quickly, stroking his beard and still looking at me, squinty-eyed. “The story didn’t make no sense to me but I am trying to cover all the bases. Lynchin’ has become less ‘popular’ these days in the state and I am starting to feel some pressure from above to find a guilty party. ” For a moment, he appeared to be suspiciously eyeing the back of my store. That’s the last thing in the world that I wanted. “Watcha' got stored back there, boy? he asked suddenly. "Your stock or, perhaps, even some other goods?" “No need to search the store any further, Sheriff” I responded. “You don’t want to go back there. That’s where I live. Very messy. I also cook there on a hot plate. Kind of smells bad. You won’t like it. Best stay away.” He seemed to be satisfied by my words, and also not inclined to stay in my store any longer than necessary. He suddenly wheeled around and strode out the front door, not even giving me a backward glance. I was glad to see him gone, but I didn’t know what to do next. I finally realized that I was in a heap of trouble, none of which was of my own making. I was now apparently on the sheriff’s short list of possible suspects for the lynching, although it made no sense at all. He just wanted to arrest someone but certainly not a prominent white man. *** It was the next night and I was sleeping. I heard a soft knock on the back door. I opened it carefully to see Aaron, a black man who worked for Mr. Beauregard. A truck was parked in the back of the store, idling. “Boss man, sent me to pick up a ‘package’ that you holdin’ for him in your store,” he said. “He tole me not to let anyone see me transport it. So here I am.” I got out of bed and helped Aaron load the sack on his truck bed and then covered it with a tarp. He motioned me over to him and placed his mouth gently to my ear. “Mr. Chao, I don’t know what you done and I don’t even want to know. You been kind to us. People in town doin’ a lot of talkin’ about recent events, however. The sheriff lookin’ for someone to pin this lynchin’ on. The ‘trouble’ seems to be puttin’ the town and state in a bad light. You yourself now seem to be the perfect choice for blamin' for the crime. They won’t never pin a lynchin’ on a black man and you may be the next best choice.” With that he hurried over to the truck and drove away in a cloud of dust. *** I began to go over my options to stay alive. They were to stay in town or jump on a bus headed north. It would not be good for one of our community to be under a magnifying glass. Best thing, I finally concluded, would be to catch the bus for Chicago that left early the next morning. The sheriff would soon be looking for another patsy. Unfortunately for him, to charge a black with a charge of lynching would be laughable. I packed my suitcase in a hurry, reserving a place for a small Chinese shrine with the ashes of my Uncle Charlie. Nothing much else of value to take with me. A few wrinkled clothes. I knew that hightailing it out of town made me look guilty. I knew for certain that the large number of white people in town who had actually witnessed the lynching knew that I was not involved. All the sheriff needed to do was to ask a few questions in town which he didn’t seem to want to do. No, he would merely let this incident fade in people’s memory with his most important suspect gone to “who knows where up north.”


She couldn’t make up her mind as to what to do with them. It had been long enough since the death of her beloved husband for her to feel strong enough to sort out a few things and move on. Of course he was the love of her life and they had many years together but she couldn’t be sad any longer - it was time to find new things to do, grow and flourish....’goodness only knows how much time I have left on this earth’. June had decided to sort out the attic once and for all. Bill had been gone for a year now and she had felt for a few weeks that it was the right time to get cracking on it. She really didn’t know if she was going to sell the house and downsize yet, but no matter what, the attic needed sorting. The big cardboard box had been sitting up in the attic for a long time. It was covered in dust and she wiped it all off with a dry cloth. “Look at all this tape I put on it. If Bill was still around he would be telling me how wasteful I was!” she said aloud as she broke a nail trying to take it off. “What I need is a knife or some scissors to open it”. She climbed back down the stairs and into the kitchen to find her scissors, took them back up with her to the attic and cut down the middle of the tape. The top opened up with the smell of moth balls still quite overwhelming even after all this time. ‘Oh yes, of course’ she thought ‘it’s mainly all the children’s clothes. I forgot about this box. I’ll just tape it back up and take it straight to the charity shop. I’ll have to get John, when he visits next to carry it down for me though’. Plonking herself down on a stool she surveyed the room - ‘oh dear’ she thought and sighed. She took her asthma puffer as it was so dusty and not being able to breathe was the last thing she needed! Standing up June wandered over to the doll’s house that was leaning against the far wall. It had been made by her husband when the girls were little. Meticulously crafted it had taken Bill months to make, but he did start before the first one was born! The tiny doors were all hinged, and opened and closed quite easily. June touched the curtains she had sewn for the tiny windows, the white and floral cotton was now a light brown because of all the dust that had settled on it. At the top of the tiny stairs and inside the bedroom were two little wooden beds with the same coloured bedspreads as the curtain and in between the beds a very small dressing table. June’s flair for arts and craft were highlighted by the mini rug she had crocheted and even a painting on the wall. By the time Bill had got to the stage of making furniture for the downstairs kitchen he had run out of enthusiasm and time, so it was a lot sparser than upstairs! June opened the window at the very top of the attic to let in some fresh air - it was a bit stuffy and a light breeze flew through the skylight window. Some papers that were on top of a cupboard rustled about, with a couple of them blowing on to the floor. June bent down to pick them up and a sudden pang of loneliness ran through her as she saw they were sketches that Bill had done. “Those beautiful trees he sketched when we were on holidays together” she said aloud, placing them down on the table, vowing not to get too sad while up here. She looked around not knowing where to start and feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the clutter that was up in the attic. ‘I’ll do it another day’ she thought beginning to feel tired even before she had started. Then she looked once again at the big box and decided that she would sort through it after all. ‘I’ll need to go through it anyway to see what I can give to the charity shop - it could all be moth eaten for all I know’. Just as she was about to begin the front door bell rang. ‘Oh bother’ she thought, ‘who’s that?’ Climbing down the stairs once again she opened the door to find herself face to face with two of her daughters, the youngest and the oldest! “Hello you two” she greeted them with a hug. “I thought you were shopping together for the day?” “Hi mum. Yes we were but we got there, had a coffee and then decided we couldn’t be bothered. Lisa’s tired and I just don’t feel in the mood”. “Well I’m up in the attic sorting - actually I’ve decided I can’t be bothered either but I am just about to go through a box of your clothes from when you were all little girls”. “Bring it down and we’ll go through it with you. Jessica might be able to use some of it when she has her baby”. Between the three of them they managed to get it down the stairs from the attic although June did scrape the skin off one of her knuckles as they shoved the big box through the doorway. “Oh my, I need a cup of tea before we start sorting that big box. Put the kettle on please Pauline”. After the mother and two daughters had finished their cuppas it was time to get stuck into sorting the box and see what clothes were in it, salvageable or not? The moth ball smell permeated the air so June opened the front door so let it out. “Now remember girls, a quick job is a good job. Let’s not take too long with this”. “Yes agreed”. They all reached in for a pile of clothes and sat down to look through them. “Oh it must be all sorts of clothing and not just children’s - here’s one of your dad’s shirts”. “I don’t remember seeing Dad in that” said Veronica, the oldest of the three girls “that’s quite funky and back in fashion now”. “Yes well he did look rather handsome in it but it got a wee bit tight for him. He always told me “Keep that shirt love and I promise I’ll fit into it again one day!” June held it up to her face and sniffed hoping to catch a tiny piece of his smell but it was overpowered by the camphor - she still rubbed it on her face, and with a wistful look told her girls..“You know your dad proposed to me in that shirt”. “Did he have pants on too” asked Pauline thinking it very funny. “Of course he had pants on, it was in my day not these days!” replied her mum, smiling. “Yes we were at the drive in movies “she continued “and when it was intermission he left me in the car and went to buy hot chips for us both. When he came back he handed me my chips and sat next to me - we were eating away when he suddenly said “Oh my goodness look what was in my bucket of chips, and he holds up a ring”. (Veronica went to say “You’ve told us a million times Mum” but her sister looked her in the eyes and shook her head). June looked at her two girls with glistening moist eyes and concluded with “Will you marry me June? is what your dad said to me”. “Oh Mum” said the diplomatic one, “I think you’ve told us that before and it’s so lovely but we’ve never seen the ‘proposal’ shirt he wore!” June dried her eyes with a tissue and folded the shirt carefully saying “Well let’s hope whoever wears this is as happy as your dad and I were”. As the clothes were unfolded and checked over they were either put it in the ‘good pile’ for Jessica’s baby and others or on the charity shop pile. “This must be difficult for you mum bringing back memories of when we were little, a big happy family and dad was around too”. “Well I decided before I climbed up to that dust old attic that I would try to be sensible and not too emotional today, but yes it is hard for me. I’m glad you two came - you’ll let me know what to keep and what to get rid of I’m sure!” “I remember you in this little dress Lisa. We bought it for your second birthday, but you didn’t get to wear it for your party. We had it all planned; it was in the park up the road from where we lived”. “You mean that tiny house we all squeezed into, two bedrooms and a back verandah, one bathroom and a tiny square of a garden?” “Yes that was the one, although it wasn’t that small, you and Jess shared a bedroom, as did John and Martin but that’s what you did in those days”. “Anyway, I had the table all set up with the party food and the parcels wrapped for the games, you girls were all dressed up in your little frocks when suddenly your dad came running into the garden yelling that your cousin Margaret had been knocked off her bike and been taken to hospital. She was seriously hurt with head injuries, and it was ‘touch and go’ for a while”. “So why didn’t I get to wear my dress?” “Well we couldn’t hold your party when your cousin was seriously injured and in hospital. Your dad and I went straight there to support Aunty Liz. Grandma came over. We let the other children know it was cancelled but there was plenty of food for you and your brothers and Gran”. June picked up a very small pair of blue leather shoes and sat staring at them, a far away look on her tired and wrinkled face. “Are you ok Mum?” Lisa came over and put her arm around her mother’s shoulders telling her that maybe they should put all the clothes back in, tape it up and drop it somewhere. “No love, it’s ok, it’s just that I haven’t seen or touched these for years. It just makes me sad that’s all, wondering what he would look like now and thinking of all the life he has missed out on. I’m ok, honestly. She fingered the tiny shoes lovingly “Your dad actually took Martin to get these shoes. I remember how he came back home, it was in the afternoon, and dad put the shoes on him so he could show me. He was so tiny for his age and still a bit wobbly on his legs, he was only two. He stood in the lounge holding on to the arm of the sofa and then ran full pelt towards me. I caught him in my arms and he laughed. His bright blue eyes twinkled and I thought them how lucky I was to have such a happy little boy”. She took a deep breath and put the shoes on the ‘charity shop’ pile “someone will be very fortunate to buy these”. “Oh look at this number” Jessica yelled as she held up a fuchsia pink dress “Did I really wear this to my year 12 ball? Now that’s embarrassing!” “Well we’ve got the photos of you in it!” chimed in her younger sister. “What was the name of that guy you ended up going with? Ray, Roger?” “It was Rick and to be honest, he was awful. He came to pick me up in pants that were too short for him and a pimply face! So between us both, because my face wasn’t much better then, we looked like the ‘worst’ couple at the ball. I hated the whole night!” “You didn’t look that bad darling” said her mum loyally “You had a nice soft stole around your neck and I think you looked lovely”. “Hey here’s the stole...take a look at this” and Lisa put it around her neck and danced around the room calling out to an invisible ‘Rick’ about how much she fancied him and her and Jessica rolled around laughing. ‘What did you wear to your year 12 ball Lisa?” asked Jessica when they had settled down “Umm a lime green dress, it had buttons down the front and tied in a bow at the back. I felt so happy that evening, the hottest guy in the room and he was with me”. I remember how he gave me a sweet little corsage just before we got out of his car. And three years later we were engaged”. “And” added Jess “a year later your husband....... and then your ex-husband. Let’s look for your dress”. They pulled out fabric and clothes until the bright dress was in sight. “There it is” beamed Lisa holding it up - a couple of sizes smaller than I could get into now but that’s to be expected. I don’t remember what I did with the corsage. I said on the night all those years ago that I would keep it forever, but I probably ground it underfoot when I found out Dave was cheating on me!” “Strange question Lisa, but if you could see into the future and knew that Dave was going to cheat on you when you were married, would you have married him?” “That’s a stupid question to ask - of course not. Why would I have - all that heart ache and sadness, the divorce, the cost, children without a dad at home....who would want that?” Jessica was just about to say something else to her sister when she pulled out of the box a pair of black shoes, shiny patent leather with heels at least four inches high. “Oh wow look at these!” she said quickly taking off her own flat shoes and sock and trying them on. “I think these were mine?” she asked “and if they still fit I’m having them”. She tried to squeeze her foot into the left shoe but it was like trying to get a sausage back into its skin! “Too many lumps and bumps on my old feet now” she lamented. “Give me a go, my feet are smaller than yours” said Lisa snatching the shoe off her sister. They fitted her and she happily stood up in them and walked towards the door of the room. “Oh I can’t walk in these, I feel like I’m going to fall over. They are so high. Do I walk funny?” “Yes you actually do, get them off and put them back in the box. I guess neither of us are good in high heels anymore!” June had been sitting watching and listening to her girls in amusement but it was her turn as she pulled out a two piece suit, light blue lines with fabric buttons down the front and a darker blue piping around the lapel of the collar. “Look at this girls” she beamed holding up the articles of clothing. “Oh Mum isn’t that what you wore when you graduated from University? The top student from your class and we were all so proud of you Mum. We still are but to get a University degree at your age was amazing, and then to use it. Dad cried - I remember looking over at him - I’d never seen him cry before and being a young girl, I didn’t think men cried!” I bet that still fits you, you’ve never put any weight on you lucky thing!” “It probably does still fit me but what’s that matter now after all this time? How many years have I been retired? Too many to count and most of what I learnt and practiced for quite a few years after I graduated has escaped out of the box of information in my head!” The three women sat back down and sighed. “I’m tired of this now” said Jessica “Me too, let’s have a cuppa” added Lisa. “Why don’t we just fold it, put it all back in the box and call it quits” said June. “I’ve had enough of going down memory lane, the dust is making me sneeze and I’m tired. It’s nice to re-live the past for a little while but I’m actually ready for a new beginning now”. “Good idea Mum” said one of her two girls “I’ll drop it off for you tomorrow and then at the weekend we’ll finish sorting upstairs in the attic”. “In fact” continued June “I’m fed up of being inside today and going back in time - let’s go out for coffee and look to the future”.


Sun peered in through the crudely-made skylight - a hole, really - and illuminated the dust particles floating in the gentle breeze that came through partially broken stained-glass windows. Rotting wooden pews, dust-covered and termite-bitten, lined the faded carpet from the entryway to the altar. The acrid stench of smog found its way into the church. The faraway noise of the high-speed rail and blaring sirens could be heard faintly, just barely touching the overwhelming silence. There had been a time, Nyx remembered, when the silence in this place was welcome. When it was the mark of worship and faith and respect. The floor creaked something awful as Nyx placed one booted foot in front of her steel one, taking cautious steps into the dilapidated building. As she neared the patch of sunlight on the floor, her rusting ankle joint caught mid-rotation and sent Nyx toppling to the ground. Only, there wasn’t any ground beneath the sun-lit spot on the floor. The faded carpet caught around her like a net as she fell through the hole in the floor that matched the one in the roof. She landed roughly, broken pieces of wooden boards digging into her back and she wriggled out of the carpet. A few muttered curses later, Nyx managed to free herself from the heap of fabric and walk crookedly to the cellar door that would lead back up to the main floor. Taking a moment to assess the rotting staircase, Nyx decided to waddle back over to the sun-lit mound of fabric in the middle of the basement, seat herself on top of it, and raise her right foot over her left knee for inspection. There was no way the staircase would hold her if the joint stuck again. Nyx checked her fanny pack with baited breath, sending a prayer to long-deaf ears that the canister of oil she normally kept with her didn’t break during the fall. It didn’t. Perhaps the goddess came back briefly just to pity the poor girl who didn’t know when to let go. A derisive snort left Nyx as she took a ratty cloth from her pack, dabbed it in oil, and began smoothing it over the rusting joint. As if the goddess would listen to her . Nyx rolled the joint a few times, satisfied with the range of motion, and packed her things. The staircase creaked heavily under her weight even as she tried her hardest to lighten her steps. Luckily, it didn’t send her tumbling back into the basement, but a few steps looked considerably worse than they had before she used them. A sigh blew out of parted lips as Nix made her way, carefully this time, to an altar that had seen better days. Above her loomed a fading stained glass window with spiderweb cracks scattered across its surface. On it was the image of the goddess that so many looked to for guidance, but no longer answered the peoples’ prayers. She had left them, taking her magic with her. Or so the news had said. Nyx knew the truth, whatever good it would do now because the goddess was gone regardless of how she’d actually left. Nyx settled herself on her knees before the altar and brought her palms face-up in front of her, the movements coming with practiced ease at having done this as a child. She spoke softly, a dead language echoing off her lips and the small spark of a spell igniting in her open palms briefly before winking out in finality. Clasping her hands, Nyx continued her prayer if only to finish the ritual that once brought her peace. ~~~ Nyx woke up slumped against the altar. How embarrassing. No wonder the goddess left if all her followers fell asleep during prayer. Shaking her head and rubbing sleep from her eyes, Nyx rose slowly, but steadily, to her feet. She looked up to the vibrant stained glass window, picturesque in its beauty. The goddess, all greens and golds and blues, brown hair falling around her face like willow branches - wait. Nyx startled as she looked at the wholly-intact stained glass window. She turned quickly, surveying the room, noticing that there was no dust floating in the sunlight that streamed through the other, equally intact stained glass windows. The wooden pews looked a bit worse for wear, but there were still places where the varnish was glossy and there was definitely no termite damage. In the center aisle an emerald green carpet, heavily used, ran from entrance to altar, definitely without a hole hidden underneath nor one to match in the ceiling. Flowers - real flowers - bloomed in planters on the windows and in vases scattered around the church. And there was no sound . At least, not the kind she’d become accustomed to since the city erupted in the area like a geyser. No horns or sirens or high-speed rails. Just the breeze carrying the scent of grass - oh, how she’d missed that - and the chirping of birds. She had to be dreaming. There was no way - A loud bang echoed in the church as a tiny figure shoved the doors open. A little girl with hair as black as pitch and honey-gold eyes ran down the aisle to pray at the altar for help Nyx knew would never come. She felt oddly detached watching the memory of her younger self, dark skin unblemished and right leg still flesh, that she didn’t immediately notice when her name was being called. Nyx remembered that her parents had been at work the day she came here, sneaking past her sister to come to the church. Nyx Her name echoed around her in the room, and little Nyx didn’t seem to hear. Nyx noticed her own, adult hands were transparent, light streaming through her as though she were one of the stained glass windows. Child... Listen to my voice... The little girl was still praying at the altar. Not her... You “Me?” Yes Nyx felt even more detached, though she was hyper aware of the voice that only she could hear. It was warm, like the fleece blanket she used to sleep with as a child. Her younger self still prayed, oblivious. Do you want to save them? Them wasn’t specified, but somehow Nyx knew the people being talked about where all those she lost since the goddess left. The day magic died. How did this voice - ? Do you want to save them? “Yes.” Nyx had questions, but the words stuck in her throat. Would you fix your mistakes, knowing what you know now? She felt the cool steel in her hand. The recoil rattled her shoulder as she pulled the trigger on her best friend. How had it ever come to that? Nyx looked down to see that there was nothing in her hand; still as transparent as she was before. A single tear fell through her hand. “Yes.” More tears welled in her eyes. Are you sure? “Yes.” She sniffled. I can give you the chance, but it requires a sacrifice - “Anything! Anything to get them back - “ Nyx’s voice broke as tears fell through her transparent hands. “Please.” Very well. ~~~ Warm tears splashed her hands where they were clasped in front of her. Opening her eyes, Nyx realized she was on the ground in front of the altar where she had been praying before she fell asleep. She did fall asleep, right? Child, you have work to do. Nyx noticed her clasped hands were entirely too small to be her own. They looked like they had when she was six, before there had been any calluses or burn marks. Before she had to work to survive. She stood quickly, surprised that her prosthetic didn’t catch despite it’s prior oiling. It was more rust than steel these days, anyway. She looked around to see the church as it had been in her memory, silence not quite as heavy as it had been when she arrived at the old church. But it didn’t look so old anymore, did it? Looking down, a choked gasp left Nyx’s lips as she realized her right leg was flesh instead of steel. And that she was remarkably shorter than she had been when she started praying. Child, you said you wanted to fix things.


A continuation of “My Night with my Bestfriend’s Girlfriend” (located on my Reddit Profile Page). After I dropped Ashley off at her house, I spent the next hour or so aimlessly driving down backroads; searching for clarity. I tried to avoid the truth, but with each passing mile; I found myself falling deeper in love with my best-friend’s girlfriend. Then, an early phone call broke my train of thought. It was Tommy, asking how the rest of my night with Ashley went. Tommy was the only one that knew that I had a “thing” for Ashley, but he had no idea just how deep my affection for her really went. He opened with the inevitable question of how far did we “go” and was shocked when I replied with a puzzled “nowhere”. He let the topic go but not before asking how I was going to tell Bobby that I spent the night in my car with his girlfriend. Tell Bobby? Tell Bobby what? I tried my best to normalize what was clearly erratic behavior, but there was no getting around it. I had to come clean, but not fully clean just yet. Later that night I called Ashley and brought up the idea of telling Bobby about our “harmless” sleepover. Normalizing it herself, she minimized the act but ultimately decided that she would tell Bobby. She would tell Bobby, not me? I felt very uneasy at that point. After 10 years of friendship with Bobby, I wanted to be the one to explain the night to him. After a brief back and forth, I decided to let Ashley speak to him first. As I waited for Bobby’s furious phone call, the minutes passed like hours until...the phone rang. It was Ashley. She told me that Bobby didn’t seem too bothered by the night. Didn’t seem too bothered? I was speechless. It took everything for me not to call him myself, but I didn’t want to macro what was apparently a micro issue; so I let it go. Weeks passed and Bobby still hadn’t mentioned anything to me about the incident. We made small talk, but no longer covered anything significant. At that point, our talks seemed more like a chore and less like two old friends catching up. Bobby was still on House Arrest for our crime, so he was also absent from the picture. Either way and intentional or not, I found myself drifting further away from Bobby as I grew closer to Ashley. Ashley and I became inseparable. A day wouldn’t pass without us going to breakfast, dinner, seeing a movie, taking a day trip or just parked in a lot for hours; listening to music and finding ourselves in the lyrics of our youth. Life carried on that way until i was faced with a sobering question from Ashley. She asked if I wanted to go to the Winter Formal with her (since Bobby still couldn’t leave his house). The Winter Formal was a big dance at our high school where everyone got dressed up in fancy clothes and celebrated the coming holiday season. After giving my transparent but obligatory hesitation...I agreed. Fast forward to the night of the Winter Formal. I can still remember the anxious feeling that I felt as I knocked on her front door. Her mom let me in and we made small talk until I saw Ashley walking down the stairs. She was the definition of beauty, draped in a black shoulder-less gown. I walked her to my car and we made our way to the formal. Everything was going as you would imagine until the DJ played a slow song. I couldn’t NOT ask her to dance. So I asked and she eagerly agreed. As I held her against my chest and felt her breath on my neck; it was over. I was head over heels in love. The rest of the night carried on like a blur as time seemed to stand still. Then in a blink, I was walking her to her front door. As we stood under her porch light (her hands holding her heels and her arms warmed in the sleeves of my suit jacket); I found myself just starring at her. It was at that point that I no longer cared about the last 10 years of friendship with Bobby. I was enamored with the dream of a future with Ashley. So I told her...I told her that she was unlike anyone that I had ever met. I told her that her presence made me a better version of myself and that I couldn’t imagine a life without her laugh, her smile, her friendship. I asked her to give me a chance, to give “us” a chance. Then we just stood there, starring at each other, sharing the deafening silence. Then, she broke the silence as she began to cry. I felt lifeless and crippled. Through the tears, she told me that she didn’t want to lose me. I didn’t understand what she meant at the time, but I was sure that it meant that she didn’t love me back...


The gentle waves lap against my chin as I tread water, defying the suctioning motion of the ocean. I try not to look down and shiver. I am wearing my pajamas, which are not much in the way of protection from the cold. I don’t know how I got here. A buoy floats in the near distance, rocking back and forth. I hear yelling from somewhere I turn to look for the voice, searching for something. The boat that should be there, waiting for me, but instead, I am met with the terrifying realization that I am alone. This is the part that always gets me. I could never swim to shore in enough time to save myself from any possible threat. Exhaustion would get me before I was even halfway there. Any sea creature looking to make a snack out of me is faster than I could imagine. One wave that’s a little too big, and I’m under for long enough to fill my lungs. So, I tread water, waiting for what I’ve always known was going to get me sooner or later. Not exhaustion, not any sea creature, and no large wave to drown me. No, instead, the ice-cold water deep beneath me reaches up and tangles in my legs. Something pulls me down, and I fight to keep my head above water. But I am fighting in vain. Nothing can outswim or overpower this force. My head is beneath the water. I see the sun shining through the disfigured surface sheen of water. I cannot reach the sky. I cannot escape the pull of the darkness engulfing me. I open my mouth to scream, but I am filled with water black as night. I claw at the water, but my hands cannot save me. This is the dream I have every night, and I never wake up before I drown. I wake with tears stinging my cheeks and my head in my mother's lap. I sit up to look at her and she leans into me, pressing her forehead against mine. It is all I need to reassure me. I spot my all-terrain wheelchair in the corner, ready to be pushed down the ramp and to the safe haven of the clear air outside. My mother helps me into my chair and pushes me down the ramp. When the salty ocean breeze hits my nose I feel free for a moment. It's as if I am bounding across the beach, my feet hitting the sand, and splashing in the water. I feel like my face might break in half I'm smiling so wide. But then I am back in my chair, with only my mother to get me around, and I can't run anywhere. I can't even touch the water without having a nervous breakdown. It's hard to believe that just two years ago, I was a surfer riding the waves, mist in my face, salt in my eyes. I would stay out for hours and I wouldn’t come in until my mom practically dragged me, kicking and screaming. But now, my mom has to drag me everywhere. I am completely reliant on her, to my chagrin. It’s the sad truth. I can’t surf anymore. I can barely even walk. I remember, after the incident, everyone assumed I was attacked by a shark. Because, well, surfers only ever lose limbs if they are attacked by a shark. In reality, a shark never even came near me. What actually happened was much less likely than a shark attack. It was in the middle of summer, the sun was beating down with an intensity we hadn’t experienced in a very long time. I had been out surfing all day, and I told my mom I’d come in after catching one more big wave. I saw a monster wave rolling in, and I paddled out towards it. The wave approached rapidly, and as I stood up, I lost my balance. Before I could reposition myself, the wave was upon me, and my surfboard and I rolled with it. I wore an anklet to make sure I didn’t lose my board or myself, and there was a rope attaching me to the surfboard. In the rolling wave, the rope wrapped around my leg--tight. I remember feeling pain so excruciating I passed out. When I woke up, I was on the beach. I didn’t feel any pain, in fact, where the pain once was, I couldn’t feel anything at all. Looking down, I realized why. My leg was a dark shade of purple and blue, almost black. The color stemmed from my upper thigh, where my safety rope was entwined tightly around me. I passed out again. My mother and I learned later that week that my leg would have to be amputated. We couldn’t afford a prosthetic. We could barely afford the medical bills that came with it. The day I lost my leg was the day I lost everything. I would never be able to surf again. I lost the best part of my life. Doctors like to say that my fear of the ocean is irrational and stems from PTSD. I can’t say, though, that I believe them. The pure bizarreness of my injury was so incredibly unexplainable. No doctor can explain away my mental trauma if they can barely explain my physical trauma. I don’t think what happened to me was an accident. My fear cannot be irrational, as what I fear is something that I have encountered. It’s something everyone that has swum in deep water has experienced. That feeling you get when your feet brush with what seems like colder water, too deep below the surface to be warmed by sunlight. When you feel like there could be something beneath you that you don’t know about. When it feels like the cold is reaching up from the depths to ensnare you. *That is real*, and they call it thalassophobia.


I bit down on my coat as the breeze threw dust onto me. The window was opened slightly course, this wouldn’t do. Not today. Not any day. A fox is only as good as his coat. Only as good as the fluff on his tail. Only as good as his muzzle of teeth. As my tongue was licking the dust from my coat, I could hear Master upstairs. Every memory I ever had of master sent glee through me, up to my tail, which swayed most of my life. From childhood to adulthood, Master was my only father - the only man who had loved me as if I were a human child. I couldn’t make him mad. I’ll just go see him. His feet hit the ground harder than they usually did. I can’t mess up again. He’s gonna be mad at me, again. At the sound of creaking upstairs, my feet scuttled along the hardwood floor. The stairs seemed unending, but I smiled as I saw the light from upstairs shining in the dark stairwell. Sliding into his room, my ears turned away to the window. The angry rain drenched him in tears. Ah. He’s so cute. The bird cried out in song, but I couldn’t do anything anyway. Besides, Master doesn’t like birds. He doesn’t fancy my kind, either, but he says he ‘can’t resist me’. He’s so sweet when he’s not angry. It’s very rare for him to be nice to me anymore, though. I know I make him upset, but I don’t do it on purpose. I can’t stand to see him like that. As I thought to myself, I heard the familiar tapping of shoes on the floor. I looked up happily, but the door was open for nothing but the light. Master? I was quick to get to the door, but he wasn’t there. Even when I checked at the end of the hallway, he still wasn’t there. A rumble sounded from down the hall. My feet were snowballs on the carpet. It was fluffy. I liked it. My eyes scanned around the corner. A door was open in Master’s office. A thin beam covered the dark office, a sun in the sky of dark December. My mind went to the cold night that Master let me sleep in his room. It was too frigid for me to sleep in the living room. Bright pulses beamed from the room, taloned hands brushing their claws across the wall. “Master?” I asked, gently striding over to the doorway. Though the lights dimmed, their effects were obvious. The door led into a smaller, darker room. Shattering the quiet, a voice spoke, muffled by the distance. Step-by-step, my curiosity overtook me - enthralled me with the necessity to know what was happening. My paws trounced the floor loudly as I skipped through the room, eager to find the noise. “Here,” I discerned through the wall. “There’s....” The voice quieted. The knob was small, but it was manageable, I assumed. The sound was being distorted, every word mangled from what it was. My head was pressed firmly against the secretive door. The words were like a river that couldn’t - wouldn’t - stop. Though Master never cared before, I’m sure he would care now. Being up late was a singular matter, but being in his office was different. I thought for a short while once more. Who’s voice is that? Why is it coming from the wall? My ears twitched. I looked to the door, my paw reaching up to turn the knob. I couldn’t quite describe how it felt. It was an unsure mix of chaos and excitement but had an undertone of doubt. Maybe I could call it scary? That seemed to fit nicely. For, above all, it was like reaching into a tub of spiders. I knew that something bad was going to happen. I just had no idea when it would happen. When I opened the door? When I saw what was inside? As I nudged the door forward, it was smooth, gliding inward without struggle. Walking through, my claw taps sounded as raindrops on the floor. Hardwood, maybe? My eyes traced the room, but nothing unusual appeared. Bookshelves. A television. It seemed like a door to another house. Maybe a smaller apartment of some sort. As I turned to hurry back to my room, the unmistakable thunder of footsteps sounded through a hallway. From where , I wasn’t sure. The only thing I was sure about is that I needed to leave. I was backed up against a strange wall in the home of somebody I didn’t know. Footsteps clambered by the door beside me. Under the door, I would see feet standing behind the door, but they didn’t move. Soon, there was nothing I could hear besides breathing from behind the door. I did the only thing my mind thought of: run. I practically slid when I got to the hardwood floor again, but I made it into a different room. Nestled beside a wooden desk, a grey couch sat beside a large window on the left wall. It stuck with me because I’d never seen a window that big before. It was immense. Before hearing the door open down the hall, I noticed something else particularly strange. Eyeing a litterbox in the corner of the room, I saw two doors - right beside each other - in the middle of the right wall. Thinking that it couldn’t have gotten more strange, I turned to leave. The crimson in my fur faded to white as an older man stood in the doorway. My paws were stuck to the floor. His hand trailed along the light switch, flicking it on. The entire room lightened, and I could see him more clearly. He smiled, laughing darkly. “Just a cute one, aren’t we?” he asked, looking down at me. Never in my life had I ever felt more alone. The world itself had been sectioned into two. My life, which was fraught with amusement and happiness, had been bathed in ice with his words. It was as if his breath exuded icy vapor. “So small are those with the biggest hearts, are they not?” He stepped forward, but I was statuesque before him. “So cute. So small.” My eyes watered as his footsteps carried him closer. Soon, he was inches from me. “You do have the choice of which entrance to go through.” He sighed. His hand curved, pointing upward towards the right wall, two doors standing tall beside each other. Tears threatened to fall. What door? His eyes came back to me. “Are we not going to speak?” he asked. Stuck between answering him and fearing him, I was silent. “Well. Remember, Red. The world can only go so far. It extends beyond what you can see, but where is the end of existence?” My head cocked instinctively, tilting sideways. Curiosity coming through me in waves, I opened my mouth to speak, but words never came out. He had a smile as I was going to speak, but it left his face instantaneously. “Red. You never speak to me anymore. A man without his cat is a man without a purpose. What truly is a man beyond his years but lost to the world?” I raised my head to look at him. “If a man is beyond what is known, is he still gone? Does he still know himself, then?” His voice echoed softly off of the walls. “But I’m not a cat, and you’re definitely not Master,” I spoke abruptly, surprising us both. He glanced down slowly. “So you do want to talk to your old man after all these years. I’ve missed you, Red.” I wanted to take it all back. Wishing the word never left my mouth, my heart beat like a moth’s wings. He knelt down, but his charismatic personality seemed to wear down my fear. I was more entranced with the way he spoke - the way he acted. He seemed like a character from a movie, perhaps Science Fiction. “ ‘If you’re going to change, then move the moon. If not, then don’t extinguish the sun and bring darkness into the lives of those around you.’ My father always told me that. I find it a very important lesson in life. Always do what you can in the world. If you can’t, don’t let yourself ruin the lives of others. That’s what I always took from that, anyway.” What a random thing to say. I liked it, though. Master would always say things like that to me. Albeit, in a less humourous way, but he still instilled knowledge into me -things I would never forget. So suddenly, the world had changed. Change was constant, though, wasn’t it? Still, Master would be furious if he knew I disobeyed him. I didn’t know that I would end up there. It all happened so quickly. “So yes, young Red. You have the choice, though this you know already.” His footsteps rattled the floorboards. With every creak, my heart was quick to beat. A low rumble in my chest as he turned himself around. His arm fell down like the petals of a rose, bringing my attention to the doors on both sides of him. “Here, you’ll find what you’ve been missing. Though, there never was a time when I could live without you, my dearest Red. We shall all get through this life apart, but knowing that our heart are joined.” My whiskers twitched. “Who are you?” I asked. His head dipped down to me. He smiled, huffing out a breath. “The sweet tune of my cute, little Red. I always did love your voice.” My paws crept my body over to the doors, though my mind was still processing everything thus far. “But I’m not Red,” my lips quivered. His gaze never broke from me. Eyes dreaming softly as he stood awake. “A man that destroys the moon takes the light from his own times of darkness. Does that desire lie within my Red?” My heart throbbed painfully in my body. “Have you the will to take joy from me? From us ?” As he leaned down to me, the door on the left began to shake. His head quickly darted to it. “For choices are of things we make . Chances are of things we take. ” His expression left his face. “I do hope you make the best one.” The doors growled. Soft thunder purred behind them as they drifted forward. I couldn’t see the door on the left, but standing where I was, the door on the right was visible. My maw closed. Every doubt that waned in and out in my mind was withdrawn. The door opened up to a large field of savanna grass. I had been taught by Master about ferrets and servals, but the true sight of it was new. A picturesque, yet foreign, place. His eyes saw where the right door led, but his expression was plain. He looked into the moon-lit field as if it were ordinary. Looking back to me, he feigned a smile. “Before you go,” he said, “You need to know a few things.” My head retracted. “Where am I going? Where am I? These questions have reason to be answered.” He forced a smile. “I’m not to say more than I’ve said already.” He turned to look into the right door, eyes opening slightly. “I will say no more than....you being here is not a mistake.” The wind spat leaves against the foggy glass. My breath wasn’t much more than frost. “Though. .there ...is where you belong. The world. A better world,” he paused, “ this world...is not for your kind.” My muzzle lifted up to him. “But what about Master?” Within the second that it took my eyes to shutter, the eyes that looked back into mine where gone. Left behind were two doors. It was more frightening in the fact that I was alone. Yet behind the unknown was surely either death or pain. A chasmic dark surrounded all but the doorways, a lulling trill echoing through them. My ears arose as I entered the right door, the savanna grass that my eyes were fixed on becoming more crisp in my view. Prickling between my toes, the blades were soft. Along the edge of what I could see, a dropoff fell down to a body of water. Teeth protruded from the surface. Beasts of bone lining the edge of the rocky cliff. A marula sang alone in under the moon, whispering in the wind. My fur, which was cipped with the air, trailed along my tail. Arching my back, I stretched, watching the firebugs ease through the wind. But it was the voice that caught me. The lulling tone which came not from an direction, but from the wind itself. “A fox which lies beside himself has no lover Lonliness.” The voice of feathers trailed across my ear. My head turned to all directions, but the only thing visible past the moon-lit marshgrass was the heavenly lavender in the horizon, subverted by tangerine under the violet sun. The wildflowers were shimmering , but they weren’t attracting . The petals swayed, hissing out dream dust into the wind. “They never wake,” the voice said. It was a very distinct tone. The voice of youth, but of a brumal heart. The voice ached its thought, wounded by every word. “They rely on the sun to live. Though it shines upon the joyous moments, it turns away, leaving them to starve.” My snout lowered to the lavender petals sinking in the dirt. “They breathe their last words to God, then die in the frigid shadows.” My back tensed. Somebody was near me. My eyes drifted slowly to the sky, but were caught by orbs that returned by glare. A slender form blocked the violet moon. It poured over her face like water, splashing its light upon my fur. Her face was lifeless, though I wasn’t focused on her. “Where’s Master?” I questioned, my words breaking off as shards of ice. I had only a few words left before my emotions crawled from the warm depths of my heart. “Master is gone. Whether Michael explained it to you, or you are unbeknownst to the truth, you have no master, now.” The heart pulsating in my body, slowing to a faint murmer. “ Here , there is no Time. There is no Life or Death.” The talons of Darkness drew themselves across the grass, fingers thrashing under the moon. “Beyond what you see, there is no Color or Darkness. This is everything. You are nothing but a voice in the wind. Beyond. Beyond.” Her lips curved upward. “I dreamed that one day I would find you. Not you , specifically , but somebody that would think to step out into the same moonlight, and drink the moon itself. Let the flavor drift across their aching tongue, and savor the nectar of Selene.” The subtle tapping from inside me weakened to dormancy. My throat inhaled a searing breath, but the world was still before me. “Why am I here?” I asked with a silent heart. The young woman held a whisker in her hand, extending it for me to see. “Red. You aren’t to stay here forever. This is a place with no Tomorrow. You can’t live here. Nothing exists here. You just are here.” The world itself was repetitious in its brisk dance around my head. My teeth were bared. “Why isn’t anybody answering my questions?” My head fell down to the earth, but my paws struggled against the course wheat. Rising up to the best of my ability, I looked to her eyes, but she was beyond sight. Beyond the ability of my eyes to see her. Beyond the distance where my nose could smell her. Just beyond. Etheral voices sounded from the distance. As the stars moved in the sky, the flash blinded me, and my head sank to the ground. A world that was so strange had become distant again in the dark. Weeping trills slipped softly like waves through the void. My nose twitching at the scent of cinammon, I rose myself again. Weakly turning to look into the depths, the door shimmered - a lavender haze danced around the doorway, gleaming like a cloud of comsic dust. Through narrowed eyes, I looked to the ground. The floor of Reality itself began to shatter. A monstrous cry crackled through the black depths on which I stood. My heart beating faster than hummingbird’s, my life was at the mercy of the doorway. As if an angel was looking upon my every move, the doorway became closer. Inch-by-inch, the sights beyond the entrance blurred, the world twisting to kaleidoscope vision. Light blue glowing birds soared around the abyss. Their beaks were twisted slightly, their bodies the size of dolphins. As their tails dragged across the gasious floor, contrails of ghostly dust casted thin clouds behind them. My paws, pressing down on the dust that comprised the floor, propelled me into the doorway. One paw pushing against hardwood floor, my other pulled myself up. My tail just narrowly missed a “bird” flying by the outer side of the doorway.I rolled myself over, crawling to the center of the room. As I looked around with dread, the world felt different. Bookshelves stood by the lights. Beside the lamp, in the corner of the room, Master sat looking to me. I flipped my entire body, paws thudding against the floor. Leaning upward, I thundered across the room, rubbing on his legs. Relief bathed me in itself. Intially, his expression was vague, uninterested. But as he reached out to pet me, he spoke. “How do you like it here, Red?” My blood cold at his words, I stiffened. “You’re such a good kitty. You’ve always been such a good kitty.”


"This is the last Freak I'm giving you this week, and if you don't pay me two gold pieces, then you'll be losing your most trusted supplier." "You know the Knights are picky about the Freaks people bring in nowadays. It's not easy for me to just hand over one like I used to before. Aliza, I'm telling you, you should think yourself lucky for getting seven silver pieces. The Hunter that you just walked away received one bronze piece." "Listen, Xander, this Freak is different. This Freak can form objects out of light, and I've seen it do it. It's different from the lousy ones that could only breathe fire or control water." "...Two gold pieces. Give it to me." "Tut tut tut, only two? The price has gone up. Five gold pieces." "...Fine. Five gold pieces. No more." "Deal." "...Don't... let me die... please... Don't hand me over to him... Not the Knights..." "Shut your trap, Freak. You should be lucky that you'll be sacrificed for the greater good. Freaks like you only do harm to society and should die." "Thanks for the gold, Xander. You should be lucky that you have such a good Hunter like me." "Where are you going now, Aliza?" "To The Forest, you idiot. You're not the only supplier that depends on me. Don't worry, I'll only hand over the low-quality ones to the others." ... "There we go. Now, if you finally stop using your Curse, then we'll just neatly tie you up and hand you over to the Merchants." "No! They'll kill me! They'll murder me! I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" "Neither do I, you Freak! So if you don't want me to starve to death, you should stop squirming around!" "No! No! No!" "...Fuck. It's gone again. No worries. It's hurt anyway. It won't be able to go so far... I can hear you, you know! I'm going to follow you! I'm going to kill you if you don't cooperate!" "No! No! N-" "Ugh. I told you I didn't want to go this far. Now you've got blood on my boots. Do you know how rotten blood smells, you idiot? I don't want to waste my silver pieces on washing my shoes, Freak! You better be worth the silver that goes into cleaning my boots!" ... "Hello, Aliza. What have you got here?" "A Freak. What did you expect? I won't be asking much, only a few bronze pieces to get my boots clean. This fucking Freak's blood is disgusting." "Any Freak's blood is disgusting, Aliza. I'll give you two bronze pieces." "I'll take that. Thank you for your business." ... "Gah, it's evening already. All the Merchants would've closed their shops, and the ones that are still open are shady... I should just take this Freak to my house this time. Treat it to its last nice dinner." "..." "Have a nice meal. Bon appetit. And, now when you'll be hungrily devouring your food, I'll be sleeping. Keep quiet, Freak." "...Monster." ... "Die, you fucking monster!" "Wha- How did you free yourself!" "My ability is to melt my body to get through objects, and it's not a curse! I'm proud to have been born with my power!" "Shut up, you Freak- whether or not you think of it as a gift isn't important! It's what society thinks! And if society thinks it's a curse, then it's a curse! You should die!" "You killed my friends! You killed my family! You killed my people! You're a murderer! Your name is known all over The Forest, Aliza Truman! Maybe the Ordinaries don't know it yet, but we do! Your father was a 'Freak,' if that's what you like to call us!" "And I killed him! For society! For the greater good!" "Would the Ordinaries accept people with the same blood as a Freak? You yourself have a Curse! Stop denying it! Eugh!" "You talk a lot for a Freak, you know? Nobody likes tiresome, noisy, disgusting Freaks. I made the mistake of letting you eat food I paid for out of my own money." "Money you made by slaughtering us. Money you made by violence. Money you made by taking lives. You didn't earn that money, Aliza Truman, daughter of a Fre-" "...Cursed Freaks. All of you should burn in hell and die. Disgusting creatures." ... "Come back, Freak! I'm not done with you!" "I'm done with you, Truman! You're a Freak, too! You're Cursed! You're no different from the rest of us! For the greater good? What nonsense! Aliza Truman, you're a monster! You're nothing more than a murderer!" "A murderer who lives for the light that brings the world hope every day. You made me use my bow. Think of it as an honor. No ordinary Freak dies by my arrow." "...Ha. You used your Curse. You were one of us all along..." "Bullshit. My fast arrows aren't quick because of my Curse. It's because of the skills I've built up over the years." "...No. The wind. The wind helped you. The wind pushed the arrows faster, deeper... Aliza Truman. You can never run away from your fate. Accept your life as a Freak and make The Forest your home with your Curse..." "If I had a Curse, then I'd be able to push you off the ground, simply with winds. I cannot. I am not Cursed. I am not a Freak. I am not a daughter of the filthy Freak that lived in The Forest. I am Aliza Truman, most trusted Hunter within the Ordinaries." "...Try it. Try using your Curse. Try it..." "No. This cannot be happening. Answer me, you Freak. You did that, didn't you? You loathsome being. Don't try to trick me." "..." "Answer me. Don't- I can't be-" "..." "You fucking Freak, respond to me! Don't ignore me! I can't be Cursed! I can't be a Freak! I can't have my father's blood! It's your evil doings! I can't- I can't..." ... "...So I'm a Freak now, am I? I might've been a Freak from the start... A Freak ignoring my Curse... A Freak who denied itself." 'Would the Ordinaries accept people with the same blood as a Freak? You yourself have a Curse! Stop denying it!' 'You can never run away from your fate. Accept your life as a Freak and make The Forest your home with your Curse...' "You win, Fate. It seems that I cannot live as Aliza Truman anymore. It seems that I must live my days as a Cursed Freak. But I'm not going to let you win so easily. I won't accept my fate. And if I can't live as Aliza Truman, nor a Freak... then my options seem limited. ...Such a beautiful sunset. What a nice last moment on this earth. For the greater good. For society. For the Ordinaries."


The sky had deepened to a dusky blue, the last remnants of sunlight slipping behind the horizon. It was that fleeting hour between evening and night when headlights flickered on and painted long, ghostly streaks of light on the asphalt. The highway hummed with the steady rhythm of cars rushing past, each driver eager to reach their destination before darkness fully set in. Inside the SUV, the family settled into the familiar rhythms of a long drive, the interior lit by the soft glow of the dashboard and the occasional passing streetlight. The father kept his eyes on the road, focusing on the steady flow of taillights ahead. His wife, cradling her growing belly, leaned back in her seat, one hand resting protectively over her bump. She was tired but content, lost in thoughts of the baby on the way, already imagining the new life that would soon join their family. In the backseat, Lucy, their nine-year-old, was half-asleep, lulled by the gentle motion of the car, while her little sister, Ava, clutched her stuffed bunny and stared sleepily out the window, where the landscape blurred into dark, indistinct shapes. “Are we almost there?” Lucy mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Almost, sweetheart,” her father said, glancing back in the mirror. “Just a little bit longer.” The mother smiled at their girls, feeling the baby’s faint kicks as if reminding her that they were all together. But the serene moment shattered when a sedan, dark blue and moving erratically, suddenly appeared in the rearview mirror. The vehicle was speeding, darting in and out of lanes as if the driver was trying to escape the weight of her own impatience. The driver, a middle-aged woman with frazzled nerves, was desperate to make up lost time. She had been stuck behind slower traffic, her anxiety bubbling over, and now she saw an opening--too small, too tight, but just enough to tempt her into one last reckless maneuver. She jerked the wheel and surged forward, attempting to overtake the SUV in a flash of poor judgment and impatience. She squeezed into the narrow gap, cutting sharply in front of the SUV, her tires barely skimming the shoulder. The father saw the sedan swerve but had no time to react. He slammed on the brakes, but the SUV skidded, fishtailing as the sedan’s rear clipped its front end. The impact was sudden and vicious, throwing the SUV sideways across the road. The father fought to regain control, but it was no use; the vehicle slid toward the edge of the highway, tires screaming against the pavement before the SUV tipped and rolled violently into a ditch. Inside, the world turned sideways. The cabin was thrown into chaos as the SUV slammed onto its side, the impact jarring everyone violently against their restraints. Airbags deployed with a deafening pop, filling the air with a smoky, chemical haze. The father grunted as his shoulder collided with the window, pain shooting through his arm. He was left dangling from his seatbelt, struggling to catch his breath, disoriented by the sudden shift from normalcy to nightmare. Beside him, his wife clung to her belly, instinctively shielding her unborn child as she was tossed against the door. She gasped, feeling a sharp, searing pain ripple through her abdomen, fear flooding her senses. She tried to steady herself, but the weight of the vehicle pressed against her, making every movement feel heavy and painful. Her first thought was of her daughters, and she twisted in her seat, her voice tight and panicked. “The girls!” she cried, eyes straining to see into the backseat through the haze of the wreckage. In the back, Lucy was hanging upside down, suspended by her seatbelt. Her head throbbed where it had slammed into the ceiling, and she could taste blood where she had bitten her lip. She looked over at Ava, who was trapped in her car seat, crying loudly, her little face pale and streaked with tears. Ava clutched her stuffed bunny tightly, as if it could somehow make everything right again. “Mommy!” Ava screamed, her voice quivering and small. “I’m scared!” Lucy reached out, her arm trembling, trying to comfort her sister. “It’s okay, Ava. We’re okay.” But Lucy’s own voice was fraught with terror. She looked around at the shattered glass, the crumpled metal, and felt the terrifying helplessness of the moment. Above them, the SUV groaned under its own weight, the metal frame creaking ominously, as if it might tip further at any second. The sedan, after clipping the SUV, spun out of control, tires screeching against the pavement as it careened headfirst into a brick wall on the roadside. The front end crumpled instantly, glass and metal exploding in every direction. The driver, thrown violently forward, felt the crushing force of the impact as the airbag deployed too late to protect her from the brunt of the collision. She slumped against the steering wheel, dazed and bleeding, her vision swimming with pain and the harsh, flickering light of her car’s damaged headlights. She blinked, trying to clear her head, but all she could see was the SUV lying on its side, a mangled silhouette against the dimming evening sky. The faint sound of crying children drifted through the shattered windshield, and the weight of what she had done settled on her like a crushing burden. She had been in a hurry--so much of a hurry that she hadn’t stopped to think. Now she was trapped in her own wreckage, helplessly watching the consequences of her recklessness unfold in front of her. Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer with each passing second. Red and blue lights flashed against the darkening sky, painting the scene in a surreal, strobe-like glow. Firefighters and paramedics rushed onto the scene, their shouts and the crunch of boots on gravel filling the tense silence. They scrambled down the embankment toward the overturned SUV, flashlights cutting through the dimness as they assessed the damage. A firefighter pried open the rear door, the twisted metal screeching in protest. He reached in carefully, unbuckling Ava from her car seat and lifting her out. Ava clung to him, still clutching her bunny, her sobs softening as he whispered reassurances. Lucy was next, helped out gently, her small frame shaking as she was wrapped in a warm, reflective blanket. “You’re so brave,” the paramedic told her, his voice kind but firm. “We’re going to take care of you and your family.” The mother winced as she was pulled from the wreckage, every movement sending fresh jolts of pain through her body. She held her belly protectively, whispering silent prayers for her unborn child as they lifted her onto a stretcher. She reached for her husband’s hand, gripping it tightly as they were separated, both of them exchanging a look of shared fear and relief. The father, the last to be rescued, stumbled slightly as he was helped up. He scanned the chaotic scene, his eyes darting between his daughters, his wife, and the wrecked sedan across the road. Relief washed over him as he saw his family being tended to, but the fear lingered--an unshakable, gnawing worry about what might still be wrong, unseen beneath the surface. Across the road, the driver of the sedan was pulled from her vehicle, her legs unsteady as she was helped to sit on the curb. She watched the family she had nearly destroyed, her guilt as palpable as the blood trickling from her forehead. She had only been trying to get ahead, to beat the darkness that was falling over the highway, but now the darkness felt absolute, settling into her bones. The damage was done, and no amount of regret could rewind the seconds that had changed everything. The scene buzzed with the chaos of flashing lights, voices, and the low, rhythmic hum of engines idling in the background. Above, the sky was fully dark now, a deep, inky black broken only by the harsh glare of emergency lights and the faint, distant glow of city lights on the horizon. The road, once a mundane path home, was now a battlefield strewn with wreckage, the lives of everyone involved forever altered by a moment’s impatience, a split-second decision that spiraled into tragedy. As the paramedics worked, the family held onto one another, shaken but alive, the weight of the crash settling in but their grip on each other firm. The mother rested a hand on her belly, feeling the faintest flutter of movement, a fragile reassurance amid the chaos. They would heal--eventually. But the scars of this night, painted against the dim glow of fading headlights, would linger long after the wreckage was cleared and the road returned to its usual, unremarkable flow.


“I really thought our date was going to be a bit more fancy”, I say with a smirk on my face, looking at the ground. There’s a red and white blanket covering the grass, two plates and a big pizza on top of it. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t love it because I know for a fact that you do,” he says back to me and I roll my eyes. I’m a pretty simple girl, so I actually like this way better than going out to dinner in a fancy restaurant. But obviously, I’m not going to tell him that. I’m kind of curious though. Was it just a lucky guess, or did he really think about it? “Well, sit down, my lady,” he says as he makes a bow. “You’re such an idiot, Lucas,” I tell him, rolling my eyes once again as I take a seat on the blanket. He does the same, sitting down opposite me before he hands me a slice of pizza. I thank him with a small smile and take a ginormous bite. As I’m chewing, I briefly flick my eyes over at him and see him giggling like a little girl. “What?” I ask him, dough and tomato sauce still filling my mouth. “Nothing... I’ve just never seen a girl dig in like that. Your whole slice of pizza is gone and you only took one bite.” “Oh shut up, Lucas. How would you even know how girls eat? You never take one out to lunch or dinner. The only thing you do is sleep with them and throw them out the next morning,” I say and I can see he’s a bit taken aback. “Oh I am sorry, Miss Perfect,” he snaps back at me before grabbing a slice of pizza and putting it into his mouth. “You know this is stupid, right?” I ask after a few minutes of silence, throwing the last little piece of my pizza slice into my mouth. “Yeah well, it’s sort of your own fault. You shouldn’t have lost our bet,” he says and I let out a sigh. “But what kind of punishment is this? Couldn’t you have come up with something embarrassing like walking around campus covered in dog poop, or making me dance in the cafeteria? Why make me go on a date with you?” “Because that’s the only thing I can annoy you with. I know how much you hate me so, there’s nothing better than to see you sweat trying to put up with me for an evening,” he says as a smirk appears on his face. “I can’t believe you.” “Why are you so winey? You lost, deal with it. You shouldn’t have called me a brainless playboy. That way, I wouldn’t have had to prove you otherwise, and there wouldn’t have been a bet.” “Getting an A on one test doesn’t prove anything. I saw two girls leave your dorm room yesterday morning. So I might have lost your stupid bet, but I still stand by my opinion. You’re still a brainless playboy,” I say, slightly proud of my comeback before grabbing another slice of pizza. I can just feel his eyes staring at me. “Okay seriously, what is your problem?” I scream out as I frustratedly throw the slice of pizza I’m holding down onto the plate in front of me. I look up at him and his chocolate-brown eyes meet my ocean-blue ones. His expression is sweet and tender, something I’m not used to seeing from him. “You’re so intriguing and mysterious, it’s killing me. I’ve never met anyone like you.” “Okay, if this is some weird kind of declaration of love, you can stop it right here.” “I’m serious though. You’re different. It just lures me in,” he tells me as he scoots over closer to me. Confusion creeps onto my face and I’m pretty sure he can tell. “What? Don’t tell me I don’t turn you on just a little bit?” “Nope, not a bit,” I speak out quickly, but I can feel my cheeks heating up. “Then why do you always feel the need to be around me?” “I do not!” “You do too. You’re always there. It doesn’t matter where I am. It can be in class, at lunch or at a party. You always find your way to me. And why? Only to call me a brainless playboy? That doesn’t really sound right, now does it?” he asks me and I’m lost for words. I never thought about it like that, but he makes a good point. I always end up being near him. I take in a deep breath as I feel a weird sensation going through my right hand. I look down and see that Lucas’s hand is on top of mine. I want to move it away, but I can’t. My heart starts beating erratically, my cheeks turning as red as the tomato sauce on our pizza. All of a sudden, the sky turns grey and it starts to rain. Correction, it doesn’t just start raining, it starts pouring. I quickly stand up from the ground and Lucas follows my lead. He wraps everything into the picnic blanket and throws it over his shoulder. I get startled by his sudden movement of grabbing my hand again before he gently tugs on it. I get the message and we both start to run back over to campus, hand in hand, our fingers intertwined. When we arrive, we immediately run inside one of the dormitories to take shelter from the pouring rain. As we look at each other, we both burst out in laughter. “You look so hot right now,” I can hear Lucas say as he looks my soaking wet body up and down. I just roll my eyes and turn myself around. I start walking but instantly get stopped by a firm hand grabbing my arm. “And where do you think you’re going?” Lucas asks me as he spins me around. “My dorm room,” I answer him in a ‘duh’-tone. “No, you’re not. You’re soaking wet and your dorm room is all the way over at the other side of campus. You’ll get sick.” “So?” “So, I don’t want that. And besides, date-night is not over until I say it is,” he says, a smug grin on his face. Before I can even let out a sigh, his arm is present around my shoulder as I’m being chaperoned to his dorm room. He takes out his key and opens up the door. He holds it for me to walk through, which I do, but only after I make sure that he can see the annoyance on my face. I take off my shoes before looking around the room. I have to say, it’s nice. It is much bigger than my dorm room. It looks more like an apartment than a dorm room. A twin bed, a kitchen, a dining table, a desk, a bathroom, a couch, a tv. I don’t know why I’m surprised though. I already knew he had money so this was to be expected. “Just grab a shirt out of the top drawer,” Lucas says as he points towards a fancy wooden closet at the far right of the room. It isn’t high like a normal closet would be, but it’s stretched out horizontally. “I’m going to take a quick shower. It’ll only take a sec.” And with that being said, he disappears into his bathroom. I hesitate before cautiously walking over to the closet Lucas pointed towards a minute ago. I open one of the top drawers and see piles of shirts. Mostly black and white with a hint of colour in between the basic ones. I grab a black one, making sure I don’t mess up his drawer, before putting it on top and close the drawer back up. I look around myself and once the coast is clear and I’m certain Lucas is not back yet, I unzip my jeans and slide them down my legs. I step out of them, collect them off of the floor and throw them onto the nearest chair. I pull my t-shirt over my head but as soon as my arms are in the air, I feel two muscular arms wrapping themselves around my bare waist. Goosebumps emerge all over my body as I let my shirt fall to the ground, leaving me in only my bra and panties. The arms around my waist move softly as I feel a body pressing against my back. His lips make contact with the skin of my neck and he lets out a soft breath, sending shivers down my spine. “I know you want me. Why can’t you just admit that?” he whispers into my ear. I close my eyes as I feel a gentle kiss being placed in the crook of my neck. “I... I... I don’t,” I breathe out, clearly struggling to keep my feelings under control. I feel his hands move to my thighs. He tenderly grabs a hold of them and spins me around, making me look right into his eyes. “I’m not going to be another trophy on your shelve, Lucas.” “I never asked you to be. And you know I mean that. You know what we have is different. You know I’ve been crazy about you from the moment we met. And it doesn’t matter how many times you try to deny it, I know you feel it too,” he says as his hand makes his way up to my face, cupping my cheek. I can feel my heartbeat speeding up. “Our bet wasn’t just a stupid silly thing, not to me anyway. It was my chance to prove myself. I haven’t slept with any girls since we made that bet. The girls you saw yesterday were my sisters. I’m serious about you. I’ve never felt this before. You are all I think about all day, all night. I just want to be near you whenever I can. I want you, just you. Nobody else.” It takes me a second to make sense of his words. But once I do, I take his face in my hands and let his lips collide with mine. He puts one arm around my body, holding me close as he deepens our kiss. I jump up, wrapping my legs around his torso, not breaking our kiss. He walks over to his bed and gently lays me down, he on top of me. I feel his tongue asking permission to enter my mouth and I happily grant it. I feel him smile against my lips. I can’t help myself as I let out a small moan, telling Lucas I’m enjoying whatever he’s doing. Out of nowhere, confidence takes over me. I push him off of me and down on the bed next to me. I climb on top of his tall and muscular body as he gives me a longing look. He attaches his lips back to mine, even more passionate than before. I honestly don’t know why I suppressed my feelings for him for so long. This feels right. Our lips move together in perfect rhythm like they are two puzzle pieces waiting to be placed together. I feel his hands moving up and down my back until they stop at the hem of my bra. He tugs on it and I immediately sit up straight, backing away from his lips. “I can’t...,” I whisper as I feel his hands retreating from my back, resting themselves onto my hips. “I know, I’m sorry. I got carried away for a second”, he tells me looking right into my eyes. “What do you mean you know?” I ask him confused and kind of shocked. “I know what happened last year at the New Years Eve party. When Travis put something in your drink and had his way with you. So, I understand that you’re not ready yet.” “I’m sorry...” “Don’t be. You take all the time you need. I can wait. If it means being able to hold your hand, envelope you in my arms every day and call you my girl, I can wait all eternity,” he says and I give him an honest and thankful smile. He returns it before patting the bed next to him. I lay down, my head on his rapid moving chest, his arms wrapping around my fragile body. I take in his sent and enjoy the warmth of his embrace. “What are you thinking about?” I suddenly hear him ask me. I briefly look up before instantly laying my head back down, snuggling up to him. “Why me?” “What do you mean?” “Well, why are you willing to wait for me? You are Lucas McCarthy. You have girls lining up to sleep with you, so why me?” I ask him and I can feel a little kiss being placed on my temple. “Because you’re special. You’re different. You are the only girl that talks back to me. You are the only girl that just tells me I’m a brainless jerk, right to my face. You are the only girl that doesn’t just want to sleep with me. You hated me, and that intrigued me so freaking much. The more you teased me, the more I wanted you.” “Sounds like I’m just a challenge to you?” “That’s because you didn’t let me finish,” he says, stroking my arm, making goosebumps appear all over my body. “You are what I need. Someone to put me in my place. Someone to see more than just the asshole I portray to be. Someone who teases me, but loves me for who really I am. You are what I’ve been waiting for my whole life,” he tells me. That is honestly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. I look up and smash my lips onto his. It’s a quick but rough kiss. It’s his way of letting me know that he means every word he just said. I back away and sit up straight, not because I want to, but because I’m running out of air. As I try to catch my breath, I feel Lucas’ hands landing on my cheeks. “I need you. I want you. I love you.”


“You’ll find the air is rare out there.” She was spinning in the cafeteria. High above the blank-white tables and blood-red benches she spun slowly, singing an old pop song. “And no one cares, when you fail.” She wore half a life suit. The top half was just a tank top that clung to her breasts. “Because no one’s there, out in space, way out there.” Wine floated passed me, as I yelled “You need to come down. Use the ladder.” “Fuck.” She giggled. “You. I’m not scared of you.” “I’m the only one left. You’re drunk. It’s still in here. Come down.” It was a computer virus. It had taken over the entire station. It was on a warpath. “I’m safe up here. No doors. See.” She spread her arms out and waved them like she was flying. I assumed she had more than just the wine. “If it opens the air locks you won’t be.” I had a phone. I could look up everything that was going on inside. I could tell you where the air locks had open. I could tell you where doors had come down and bisected personnel. I could tell you where forklifts had run down crew. I could tell you which bloody messes were cleaned up and which were still floating around different bays and rooms. But I couldn’t tell you whether the phone was lying. “There is a meeting of general staff in the atrium. Please direct all personnel to the B wing. Thank you.” The virus interrupted from the intercom. A similar message appeared on my phone. “He’s at it again.” “You can’t kill me, I’m already dead.” I could only hope that she had taken enough of whatever to put her out for good. I could not leave a woman behind. But a dead woman would not bother my conscience one iota. “Briggs? Helena? There is a general meeting in B wing.” Another blast of the intercom with an old recording of the Captain. The projector turned on and blasted a bright glow of white against Helena as she spun in the air. It had been knocked off the table and now it was beaming a portrait of a meadow onto her. The virus spoke again. “Failure to meet in the B wing will result in fines.” “I’m a daisy!” Helena bleated. “There is no meeting in B wing. We are leaving the station. The station is being..FUCK, will you get down from there!” I yelled. I had put down most of my equipment and was ready to put on the rest of my suit. “There is no where to go! Where are you going to go? Out in the shuttle? See how far that takes you. You are out in outer space, silly! Besides, you’re just a cook!” She giggled again and then tried to catch butterflies that flew passed her on the projection. “I’m not giving up. The cook is probably dead. I’m Briggs. Now, there’s a station near here...” “Light years!” She screamed back. “It doesn’t matter. There is a distress beacon. It is POSSIBLE that they could be here in days. I have food, water, and tools. The doors are all safely disarmed. We have suits. It’s another twenty steps and we’re out of here. Now come down!” “You come get me.” “Alright!” I climbed out of my suit and began ascending the ladder. I could see her smile from some 100 feet above me. At the top, I made for her, but she floated passed me and murmured “Ah, ah, ah.” Looking down I could see the entire cafeteria. And then I saw the bodies. Two of them. One of them was the cook and the other was Helena. Both had been crushed against the floor. The cafeteria shook as the entire bay began to slowly spin, restoring the gravity.


So I bumped into my favorite teacher from high school while getting coffee earlier today. Reminded me of an old story... Okay. I don’t want to get this dude in trouble so I’m not gonna use his real name. Let’s just call him, Professor Projector. Because he really loved his digital projector. Anyways, I had Professor Projector for history in ninth and tenth grade. Best teacher ever, man. Dude used to download illegal versions of video games on his computer and let me and my friends play them during our free periods. Plus, sometimes he’d just let us go to his room during study hall and move all of his desks out of the way to play hackey-sack for 42 mins. Like, for real, best teacher ever. But, yeah, story-wise, it was the day of the big homecoming pep rally, when I was in 11th grade. A few of my friends and I were all down in this hidden cage room behind the cafeteria decorating tee shirts and doing other stuff to get ready for the big assembly in the gym later that afternoon. In reality, we weren’t really actually doing anything. We were just pretending to get shit ready as an excuse to get out of class and hang out with the hot chicks in the cage room. Then, suddenly, this one troublemaker showed up. We’ll call him, Andy. And Andy opened up his bookbag to reveal a giant box of wine. So, one thing led to another, and before I knew it; we were all down in this cage room, drinking boxed wine, out of repurposed Fruitworks bottles. So, a couple of hours passed, and it was almost time to head over to the gym for the pep rally. And I was pretty fucking drunk, you guys. Was kinda stumbling. Slurring. Craving Mighty Taco. I had to pee so I left the cage room and went to the bathroom. And when I got back; all of my friends were gone. So now I was hammered and stumbling through the halls of my high school alone. The announcement was made saying for everyone to head to the gym. People immediately came rushing out of every classroom. The halls were flooded. The entire school started spinning in my head. But then a hand grabbed my shoulder. I looked up. Professor Projector. He was like, “Hey Ian, you look lost.” I just kinda stared at him for a second, and then I was like, “I’m looking for Mighty Taco.” He looked at me. He leaned in. He looked closer at me. Then he was like, “Ian...are you drunk?” And I was like, “Uhh..no I mean maybe kinda”. Professor Projector flipped out and pulled me into an empty classroom. He started shouting about how I could be suspended or expelled. Dude was seriously pissed off. I said something about just wanting Mighty Taco again, and I honestly thought he was gonna murder me. But he didn’t. Instead, Professor Projector just took a few minutes to calm down. And then he was like, “Alright, here’s the deal. You stay BY MY SIDE for this entire pep rally. You talk to ABSOLUTELY NO ONE. By not turning you in right now; I’m putting MY ASS ON THE LINE. DON’T SCREW ME!” And just like that, Professor Projector and I left the classroom and began making our way to the gym. I was literally struggling to walk straight so he had his fucking arm around me keeping me up. People tried talking to him or me, but we just kinda ignored them and kept moving. We made it the assembly. He got us up to our seats in the stands. And then BOOM. I just like immediately passed out. Ya know, with like my head on his shoulder or whatever. He woke me up when the pep rally ended. He dragged me down the stands and out of the gym. He found some of my friends. He threw me at them. And he was just like, “Guys, get Ian the hell out of here right now!” I remember being a little worried about the whole situation when I got to school the following Monday. But, fortunately, Professor Projector never told anybody, and, instead, he just punished me his own way. So, for the next two weeks or so, instead of video games and hackey-sack during my free periods; it was just helping this dude put together PowerPoint presentations for his god damn digital projector. So, yeah, that’s the story of the time a teacher caught me drunk at school and just went above and beyond to have my back and make sure my stupid ass didn’t get in any actual trouble. And I’ve never forgotten it. Finally, as just a little bookend to this, when the time eventually came for me to graduate from high school; they allowed students to request their diploma be given to them on stage by a specific teacher if desired. So, naturally, I requested that Professor Projector be the one to hand me my diploma. And so he did. On stage at Artpark, in front of everybody. And, when I got back to my seat and opened it; I discovered that, inside, he’d hidden a gift certificate to Mighty Taco.