Living just down the road from my grandparents never felt more important than in that moment I sipped tea with my grandmother, Bubby, while she told me of her missing laptop. “There wasn’t much on the thing be honest, your grandfather thought it would change our lives and could barely turn the damn thing on.” My grandpa, Bopo, scooted himself out of his La-Z-Boy recliner, somehow in immaculate condition after years of heavy use, and made for the recently knocked upon door with a grunt of disapproval. “Well regardless,” I said restraining a chuckle while trying to convey the gravity of the situation, “someone was in here while you were away. Imagine what could have happened if you were home. You’re getting a security system, and a dog and that’s that.” “Oh now don’t you ‘that’s that me,’ son, you don’t know the first thing about it. If I was a better, I’d put my money on that being those sweet boys from uSurance with a brand new laptop for us an’ we don’t even need it!” “Bubby no ones going to be bringing you a new laptop, we haven’t even reported it missing yet. Are you feeling okay?” “If you are questioning my mental health you better be prepared for a world of hurt. They take good care of us at uSurance, Robert, you trust me. It was a hefty payment back then, one THOUSAND dollars, but they promised coverage for EACH and EVERY thing, and they kept their promise.” My heart sank. A thousand dollars? How could they fall for that? I’d let them down, big time. “Bubby please tell me the money didn’t actually go through? You know that’s a scam, how could anyone afford to cover everything?!” “Settle your tone son, just look over at your grandpa’s recliner and tell me it’s a scam. Lever onnit broke one day and not even an hour later, no phone call or nothing, and uSurance brought a brand new chair no questions asked.” The chair was in mint condition, but Bopo must have been taking care of it. He always taught me to maintain my belongings, clean them, replace their parts so they worked properly. Surely Bubby’s mental state was slipping fast if she couldn’t even remember that. Why hadn’t I been told of this? She seemed so normal besides this uSurance nonsense, maybe Bopo hadn’t even noticed. “Bubby when’s the last time you’ve seen your doctor...” I started, trailing off as Bopo waddled into the room with a laptop under his arm. “I told you not bother Robert, uSurance came as quick as they could, not even a problem now.” Truthfully he probably couldn’t have maintained that recliner for as nonchalantly as he tried to say this, both carrying the laptop and walking from the foyer had left him out of breath. Bubby didn’t seem to notice the concern grow on my face as she continued, “Well Robert told us to let him know if anything happens, and I thought it might be nice to see him more often. Where are you going now, Robert?” I’d gotten up from the kitchen table and rushed now to and out the front door. I managed to glimpse a white van make a left turn onto the main road, a plain block letter logo printed on the side. uSurance. I stood shocked on their porch for a time, knowing no answers they could give me would make this make sense. * * * Several months had passed and I had learned one thing above all else, uSurance covers each and every thing. Watches, sheets, televisions, thermometers, fish tanks, even the FISH. I’d learned something else too, they are very hard to follow. For driving around in an oversized work van, their drivers could flow through traffic like they were in control of it... And I was starting to believe they were. They had one flaw though; they always took the same route to and from their warehouse and my grandparents. Following that graceful van seemed impossible, but when I found out that pattern I could wait at the last known corner, gain extra ground by spying the corner they come onto that street from, and picking up the chase from there on their way back. Another problem presented itself with my grandparents refusal to help in my plans, by willfully destroying their property. uSurance response times are too quick to destroy something myself and make it to the last known location in time. So I had to develop time released traps based on my grandparents habits to destroy their things for me. One particular spring loaded trap left Bubby with a broken finger, and unacceptably late for her tea, when the launched kitchen drawer shocked her vintage kettle out of her hands but also jammed perfectly perpendicular into her finger. Sorry Bubby, I love you. Today it’s all been worth it though. Today I watch as three foreign looking men pull into a laughably small and unmarked warehouse esque building. I refrain from calling it a “warehouse” as it looked only large enough to contain a manufacturing facility for a single graphic tee kiosk. This only confirmed I had the right place. All the wasted questions on my grandparents, postal service employees, police. All the sleepless nights wondering who my grandparents could have stumbled upon. It all built up toiling from my heart, from the singular knowledge that this is not right, something is not right. All that feeling surged beneath the skin of my outstretched hand as I reached for warehouse door. My whole body pulsed with adrenaline as the knob turned, unlocked. My vision shook and sweat started to glisten across my forehead as the door creaked open. I wanted to scream as an unsuspecting lobby started to reveal itself, but nothing came out. I stepped inside. * * * I was nothing, and I was everything. My grandparents, everything I had broken and had been replaced, their home, my home, my wife, my children they were all gone, and at the same time in the exact same place they had always been. Here in the electrical pulses of the worlds cpu. My entire universe just a simulation to test the success rate of integrating an non-pseudoreality jeopardizing automatic material replacement program to increase dream state organic specimens happiness optimization. The data currently being compressed into a spreadsheet will determine the worth of this exercise... and of my life. How I wish I could see the result. Curious.


CAUSALITY Henry N. Silva Mars, 2157 Dr. Evelyn looks upon the wasteland... Mars wasn’t meant to still be like this. It’s been a century since colonization began. And yet, nothing much has changed. Still a red desert planet, still too cold, still too hostile... The young scientist keeps her eyes fixed on the horizon. Another dust storm is coming, the size of a mountain, thick enough to prevent her from seeing the strong lights of the other colony towers... With a sigh, she turns around, making her way out of her chrome apartment and into an elevator, descending to one of the community floors below. Soon enough, she finds herself sitting at dark bar, it’s walls drizzled with strands of neon. She orders her usual, synthbeer and a 3D-printed burger, and sits quietly, tuning out the hustle and bustle of other colonists all around her, as she waits for her order... And then, a voice appears from behind her, “Dr. Evelyn?” The young woman swings herself around, only to find standing there an aging military general, his uniform covered with flair. He speaks again, “I need you to come with me.” \*\*\* General Victor leads Evelyn across the wasteland... She does her best to keep up, unused to wearing her bulky breathing suit for such a long period of time. “Couldn’t we have taken a travel rover?” She asks, pantingly. Victor briefly turns around, his face completely hidden by reflection, and then faces forward once more, resuming to lead the way. Eventually, the pair reach a small, manhole-sized cave entrance. Victor steps aside, motioning for Evelyn to jump in, “After you.” She follows his orders, finding herself leaping straight into a large, underground chamber of some kind, her fall broken by the planet’s weak gravity. She then proceeds to examine her surroundings. Plenty of other suited colonists have already set up camp there, all of them government officials and military personnel, no doubt. Evelyn takes immediate notice of all the equipment scattered about, before refocusing her attention on the towering walls around her, illuminated by UV light-stands. Her jaw drops as she realizes that the walls are covered in hieroglyphs... Ancient hieroglyphs... Victor lands on his feet behind Evelyn. She immediately turns to face him, “I don’t understand! What is this place?” “This place,” the general begins, “needs to stay off-record. You’re here for a very important assignment, Doctor. One that must be kept secret, at all costs.” She points to the markings on the wall to her left, “Who put those there?” “Who do you think?” The general’s tone suddenly deepens, becoming more serious than even before, “You don’t believe this planet has always been dead, do you Doctor?” Evelyn doesn’t respond. Instead, she proceeds to make her way slowly to one of the walls, taking a much closer looks at the glyphs. Quickly, she is able to make out depictions of Martians, or whatever she’s supposed to call them, “They look much more humanoid than I would’ve expected.” She walks a little further, stumbling upon a much larger glyph depicting two faceless figures, wearing armor of some kind. “Doctor,” the general calls to her. She turns back around, unable to find him in the sea of suited officials, until he waves his arm to get her attention. Evelyn heads back towards Victor, who then leads her into one of several dark, narrow catacombs there in the underground. Soon enough, they find themselves in another illuminated area, much smaller than the main chamber. Only one other colonist is there, a man. “This is Dr. Alan,” the general announces. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Dr. Evelyn,” Alan says with a wave. “I’ve heard great things about your work.” “What work, exactly?” Evelyn asks, still processing everything. “Those fancy seeds of yours, I mean.” “Oh, the genesis seeds.” She pulls out a handful of small, rather normal-looking seeds from her travel sack, strapped around the left shoulder of her suit, “Yes, just a handful of these seeds can generate an entire forest, but it takes centuries. I’m still trying to find a way to speed up the process.” “Which is exactly why you’re here,” Victor explains. “We think we can help you, Dr. Evelyn, and that you can help us. Dr. Alan here has been trying to better understand what the ancient Martians were like, and we imagine that you yourself would like to learn the causality of Mars’s long lost ecosystem, would you not?” “It would certainly help with my research, yes. But how exactly can we do either of those things?” Alan takes a deep breath, before answering her question, “We can... We can go there, Dr. Evelyn.” “Go where? What do you... Oh!” Evelyn nearly faints, as she begins to understand, “But isn’t that... Dangerous?” “Not at all,” Victor chimes in. “Our research and previous experiments confirm that time is, in fact, a closed loop. Everything that is meant to have happened has happened, and everything that is meant to still happen will indeed still happen.” Evelyn breathes in heavily, doing her best to calm her own nerves, “Well, if you say so... But how do we even... How do we get there?” Without saying a word, Alan picks up a strange, metallic device off a nearby table, wrapping it around his forearm. A touchpad plate on the device suddenly springs to life, which Alan proceeds to click away at. He then reaches out his other arm to Evelyn, “Grab on.” She wraps her arm around his. General Victor takes a few steps backwards, saluting them both, “Best of luck.” With a deep inhale, Alan presses the touchpad once more. Instantly, Evelyn’s vision is consumed by white, electric light, which then vanishes as quickly as it came... She and Alan find themselves above ground, surrounded by lush, green forestry. “Wow,” Evelyn looks around, in awe at the sight of it all. “How far back did we go?” “Far,” Alan nods. “Very far... You think this air is safe to breathe?” “We might as well keep our helmets on,” Evelyn answers. “Just to be on the safe side.” Suddenly, the pair hear a cluster of footsteps, not too far away. “Come on!” Alan motions for Evelyn to follow. They make their way through a series of trees, before arriving at a handful of bushes. Carefully, they crouch down, peering their way through. On the other side, they find a dozen or so primitive humanoids, dressed in furry animal skins. The Martians, no doubt. “Amazing,” Alan whispers. “If I didn’t know any better, I would almost say they were human.” His curiosity getting the best of him, he slowly begins to stand back up, “I’m gonna try to get a closer look.” “No!” Evelyn rises with him, trying to pull him back down, but it’s no use. For in that very moment, the natives suddenly look over, noticing them both. “Ah!” One of the Martians screams. He and all of his companions there proceed to run away, howling in fear. Evelyn scoffs, “Nice going!” “Sorry,” Alan lowers his head, sighing with shame. “Should we head back home?” “No, not yet. I still need to get a better understanding of how all this green got here in the first place. We need to go back even further.” Alan lets out another heavy sigh, “If you say so.” They lock arms again, as Alan clicks away at the touchpad on his arm. A familiar white light overtakes their vision, vanishing within seconds... The two scientists-turned-explorers now find themselves in a familiar red desert, still above ground. “I said to go further back!” “This is further back,” Alan clarifies. “You don’t see any settlement towers around, do you?” “Ah, right,” Evelyn acknowledges. Suddenly, they both notice a familiar, mountain-sized dust storm, closing in on them. Alan turns to his travel companion, “We gotta go home, now!” She nods in return, “Okay!!” He begins to set the return controls on his touchpad, as the winds pick up exponentially. In the mist of all the chaos, Evelyn’s travel sack blows open. Before she has time to react, several dozen genesis seeds are blown out of the bag, taken away by the wind... “No!” She tries to go after them, but then Alan wraps his arm around hers, slamming down on the touchpad. The same white light from before overtakes their vision, for another second or two, and then, the pair find themselves back in their underground base. The roaring winds of the storm replaced by sheer silence... General Victor clears his throat, “So... Did you find the answers you were looking for?” Evelyn lowers her head and sighs, “Yeah... I think we did.


\*\*\*** **I originally posted this story in** r/Wholesomenosleep **but decided it was more appropriate to post here, since it's not really scary** **\*\*\*\***  Let me start off by telling you a little bit about myself. I am an only child and I have a mother who loves me more than life itself. I don’t know if this is a good thing or bad thing, only that I can’t always control it. Usually at night, when people go to sleep, they’ll have dreams, wake up, and then vaguely remember them. The same happens to me, only not quite. When I sleep, I travel into the past. Sounds cool, right? But here’s the thing, I can’t always control where and when I travel to. Sometimes I get nightmares, too. In these nightmares I involuntarily travel to the worst possible times and places to be. Let me tell you, waking up in a Nazi occupied Germany wasn’t fun in the least bit. Now that you know a little about me it’s time to get onto the reason I’m here. I feel that I’ve done a terrible thing and I have to get it off my chest. My father passed away earlier this year due to a heart attack. And to be honest, my mother hasn’t been taking it well at all. Ever since that day, she hasn’t been herself. She’s quieter, she likes to be alone, and she stopped doing the things she has always enjoyed such as gardening and holding her book club meetings. About a week ago, I knocked on her bedroom door, only to walk in on her sitting up in bed, just staring at the window. This is how most mornings have been for a while now. I was just checking in on her to tell her that I finished preparing breakfast and afterward decided to resume moving around a bunch of my father’s stuff around in the attic as we have been trying to organize some boxes. One thing you need to know about my father is that he was very old school. He saved newspapers, and kept a journal which he wrote in daily. So I went upstairs and starting moving boxes when I noticed one of them was slightly open with a piece of newspaper sticking out of it. Curious, I opened the box and pulled out the newspaper. The headline read: “October 9th, 1990: Plane Crash Kills All Passengers on Board”. “Jesus Christ” I thought to myself. I continued reading the article until I got to a list of confirmed deaths. What shocked me about this list was that among the deceased, there was someone named Elena who shared the same last name as me: Decker. My parents had never told me about any aunts or cousins who had passed away so I was surprised to see someone with my last name had died in a plane crash. What stuck out even more was that my father kept a copy of this newspaper. Inside the box was my father’s journal. He wrote A LOT and had a journal for every year. I grabbed his 1990 journal and flipped through the pages until I got to the date on the newspaper. I skimmed down the lines, tracing the words with my finger until I got to the middle of the page. “I wish I could have stopped her from getting on that plane. When Elena was packing up that morning she had misplaced her ticket and I helped her find it, just in time. A moment later and she would have missed her flight.” I flipped through the pages, skimming the lines for anything else about Elena, but I couldn’t find anything. Maybe there was more, but I wasn’t going to read through this monster of a journal to find it. At the very bottom of the box, I found a physical copy of Elena’s obituary. From it, I found out that at the time of the plane crash she was 17 years old. She was a senior in high school, a cheerleader, and one of the top of her class. I didn’t want to ask my mother about it, but I knew exactly where and when Elena could be found. I kept the newspaper article and later that night I was in bed, thinking about Elena. I leaned over to grab the article off my nightstand and read the date one more time. “October 9th, 1990” I thought to myself that if I could experience the American revolution to pass my history test, I could go meet this Elena girl, right? So I shut my eyes and focused on that date. I’m not good at focusing my travels, but I’ve been getting better at it lately. Honestly, it’s a hit or miss but there was no harm in trying. I cleared my mind and closed my eyes, patiently waiting to fall asleep. After I don’t know how much time, I woke up. It was day, and I was in the middle of a football field. There were guys running and cheerleaders practicing their routines. Cars were driving by on the street and I tried to take a moment to absorb in the scenery and where I was when suddenly, a football hit me in the back of the head. I fell to the ground and a big guy runs up to me, laughing. “You gotta keep your eyes open, you’re in the middle of a football field, man” he said “Maybe you should watch where you’re throwing the ball, Brad” said an unfamiliar female voice from behind me. I turned my head, only to see one of the cheerleaders there, she had her hands on her hips and seemed irritated, like this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. “Sorry Elena, Will and I were playing catch and it turns out Will only knows how to catch, not throw.” said Brad. Jackpot. Brad went back to playing football and Elena helped me up. “Are you from around here?” she asked “Nope, my family just moved here. I’m still trying to get used to the city.” I replied, trying my best to come up with a fake backstory. “Oh I see. So what’s your name?” she asked “Romeo, I think I got that your name was Ele-” as I tried to answer, I heard thunder. It was raining when I went to sleep and the thunder was literally ear shattering. As it continued, I began to pass in and out of this period in time. In order for me to stay in the current point in time, I have to remain asleep. I once was in Salem and my alarm went off. I was labeled as a male witch and I think you can infer how that went. Anyway, eventually the thunder stopped and I stopped slipping between the past and present. Elena however, gave me the most wide-eyed look I’ve ever seen in my life. Shit, I thought to myself. “You’re a time traveler” she exclaimed “What? How do you know?” I asked “Because I am too, and the same happens to me. Did your alarm clock go off?” she asked “Oh” I began to chuckle “nope, there’s just a lot of thunder” I explained For the rest of the day Elena and I just talked about our time adventures and she took me to one of the best burger places in the city. “So, when did you first find out about your powers?” Elena asked “I’ve known for a while. It’s so much of a big deal to me anymore. I haven’t told anybody.” I replied “Good, keep it that way. If people knew what we could do, then we wouldn’t be having adventures anymore. Everybody has regrets. If someone you loved died, and you knew your best friend could easily go back in time and save them but didn’t, how would you feel?” she said I looked out the window and a car pulled up, I looked through the tinted window to see the driver. It was my dad, but a lot younger. My heart skipped a beat to see him, so full of life. “Hey, that’s my dad. I gotta go.” she said. Suddenly all the pieces came together. Elena packed grabbed her things and was putting them into her backpack. My dad honked the car three times outside. “I’m running late to the airport. You should travel here more often, or maybe we could go somewhere else” she said I got butterflies. My first instinct was to tell her, and spare her a cruel fate. However, one rule I stick to when I travel is to not change anything too much. This was something more significant to me. If I saved her, I could change everything about my family, including my own existence. Would my parents still have me? Would my parents be different? Would it be for the better or for the worse? Either way, I stopped myself. My throat was in a knot. I just swallowed, looked her in the eye and said: “Yeah, see you around.” Elena left through the front door and I watched her through the window, getting into the car, and talking to my dad. He pulled away from the curb and as they drove off into the distance, my alarm went off. I woke up, it was morning the sun was up. My first thought: I just killed my sister. I don’t know how to feel. I keep telling myself that it was to ensure my own existence but at what cost? I got up to open the curtains slowly. “I love it when the sun shines after a thunderstorm” said a female voice behind me I turned around, to see Elena in the doorway. “Elena you shouldn’t be here” I started to say. She walked toward my bedside, and picked up the article. “Shit.” I thought to myself “Don’t worry, I’m asleep on the plane right now." she said. In this moment I really didn't know what to say to her. All I could do was look her in the eyes as they began to water. "I noticed you looked a lot like our dad. So I thought to myself, why would my brother from the future travel back in time to meet me, seemingly for the first time.” she explained, looking up at me. “I wanted to tell you, I really did.” I said Elena slowly put the newspaper article back on the nightstand. “The past is the past. If I can accept it, then so can you.” she said, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. I walked up to her and gave her a hug, she hugged me back, a lot harder. As we embraced, she began to slowly fade from this point in time and I was left there, alone in my room.


Money had been tight for weeks now, and there wasn't a light at the end of the tunnel. I decided that I would find some cash, one way or another, and that my wife had to never find out. I considered robbing a bank. After going to a few different banks, and realizing many of them had security, I thought better. I wasn't ready to risk my life or my freedom for some cash. Plus, banks had countermeasures. GPS tracking devices in the stacks, exploding ink packets, just to name a few. It wasn't worth it. There were a few local cheque cashing places nearby. I didn't like this idea either. You never know when some cowboy with a gun will be behind the counter, ready to die for the insured cash. I knew I didn't want to have to deal with guns. I didn't have one, and I wasn't ready to go get one either. This was going to have to be clean, and, at least mostly, non violent. Coming home one night from staking out a bank, the opportunity presented itself. I saw a young lady, carrying a bright red deposit bag to the night drop, to the bank I was checking out. She must have worked close by, maybe even in the plaza the bank was in. She wasn't driving, and she was by herself. This would probably be the easiest robbery I could achieve. The next few weeks I spent back tracking. Moving my car to where I saw her coming from, and then finding a new point of reference, I was able to track her down to a local bar. This was even better than I'd imagined. Bars are cash businesses. That deposit bag was not going to be full of just credit receipts. There was a sign in the window, advertising the next fight that would air on pay-per-view, and be shown at the bar. That was going to be my night. Bars are packed on fight nights, and that would also mean she would be a bit later getting the deposit all counted. The later at night, the less chance of any witnesses. I decided I wouldn't be able to have my car close by the night of the crime. I didn't want it made. I didn't want her to see it, and be able to identify it. I needed to make sure this never got back to me. The planning process was the most important, and something I took great pride in. I intentionally would let her see me put the money, deposit bag and all, into a bright yellow grocery bag. I would have nothing else identifiable on me. I'd wear a mask. I would wear all black. I would approach her from behind on a bike. I made sure to get new bearings on the bike, it was almost silent. I painted the bike black, with no logos. It went exactly as I had hoped. As she turned into the parking lot the bank was in, there was a tall shrub, that obstructed the view of the cameras. I came up behind her and threw myself off the bike, and tackled her to the ground. By the time she knew what was happening I had my hand over her mouth. As she looked at my masked face, into my eyes, she knew. She knew exactly what was happening. I told her calmly not to scream, or I would hurt her. She believed me, and I felt her stop struggling, and almost go limp. I told her I only wanted the money, and if she didn't fight me, she would be fine. She nodded. I grabbed the deposit bag out of her hand, and placed it in the bright yellow bag. I knew she would remember this bag and when she called the police they would be looking for it. I took her cell phone, and pulled the battery out and tossed it into the bushes and gave her the phone back. I told her I didn't want to cost her money, that she should be able to find the battery. She nodded, tears in her eyes. I told her I wasn't going to tie her up, but if I saw her following me, or if I saw her run, I would find her and kill her. I pulled her license out of her purse and looked at her address. She knew I wasn't messing around. I told her if she screamed when I let go of her mouth, she wouldn't ever be heard from again. And I let her go. She held back a scream, a weep. I picked up the bike, and with the yellow bag on the handle bars, I took off. When I looked back, she wasn't following, but I could see her in the bush, looking for her battery. I figured it would take at least forty seconds to reboot the phone, at least three minutes, probably longer, for the police to respond. I made my way to my first stop. An ally. I had planted a bright white bike, with lots of distinct markings. I lost the mask, and took off my outer layer of black clothing, exposing my bright blue shirt, and my green warm up pants. I looked like the 90s. I took the deposit bag out of the yellow shopping bag, and placed it under my shirt, where I very quickly taped it to my chest. I was on my way out of the ally, back towards the crime scene, when I heard sirens in the distance. My timing was spot on. I peddled back towards the bar my victim worked at, where there was still a group of rowdy drunks outside. I went past them about three blocks, to my car. I left the bike outside a local shelter, and walked across the street, got into my car, and went home. When I got home, I went upstairs and kissed my wife on the forehead, and told her everything was going to be alright. "I know, I've been trying to get a hold of you all night. I bought a ticket, we won!" We had won the lottery.


“Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your hair!” Nothing but the chirping of crickets resounded. Somewhere, in a distant desert, a tumbleweed rolled by. The traveller craned his neck and squinted, but could see no face in the tiny window at the top of the tower. “RAPUNZEL!” he bellowed. This wasn’t like her. On every previous occasion the traveller had come by, Rapunzel would appear readily at the window and let down a golden, rope-thick plait of her hair for him to climb up. They would spend a leisurely evening together; she would listen to his tales of bawdy escapades and laugh delightedly at all his jokes, even the ones he was pretty sure she would find offensive. They would enjoy a candlelit dinner that she prepared--she was an excellent cook--and he would slip away in the early hours of the morning, leaving her to fondly reminisce on the night they had spent as she cleaned away the leftovers. He had been looking forward to such an evening all day; in fact, he had been looking forward to it for at least three of the six months that had passed since he last visited her. Well, maybe one of the six months, two at most. Truth be told, he had almost forgotten about her, until his rumbling stomach put him in mind of her delicious mushroom stew and he realised her tower was close enough that it would only be a slight inconvenience to travel there. Resigned, he turned to leave and seek his evening’s pleasure elsewhere--though he doubted he would be able to find anyone who could cook as well as Rapunzel could--when he heard her voice at last. “Frederick? Is that you?” Frederick whirled back around. “Rapunzel! Baby!” He held out his arms. “You took your time. Were you cooking me something extra-special?” He heard an inelegant snort come from that general direction, and wondered what it was. “Why would I be cooking you dinner?” said Rapunzel. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” A pause. “I didn’t know if you were coming back at all. It’s been six months.” “You counted?” A beaming smile spread across Frederick’s face. “Aw, you must have really missed me, babe.” Another snort. “Do you, er... have a horse up there with you?” “No.” Rapunzel sounded confused. “Why?” “Er, no reason.” Frederick figured he must be hearing things. “Now, enough of this chit-chat.” He struck a heroic pose and deepened his voice: “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” “Mm, slight problem.” Frederick could hear the hint of a smile when she spoke, and froze, a cold horror suddenly enveloping him. “You don’t have another *man* up there with you, do you?” “I have neither horse nor man with me in my tower,” Rapunzel replied with a laugh. The sound of her laugh, to Frederick, was as beautiful as the ringing of bells or the warbling of songbirds, but in this moment it felt like a dagger through his heart. “I don’t believe you,” he growled, hastily reaching into his rucksack for the small spyglass he had purchased up from a travelling inventor for the sole purpose of looking at women from afar. He peered through it at the window and gasped. “You’re lying! There *is* a man up there!” “I assure you, Frederick, there is not.” It was the strange man in the window who spoke, albeit with Rapunzel’s voice. It took a moment for Frederick to piece it together. “Your... your hair! It’s gone!” Something was not right, he was sure of it, but he had to play it cool; he had already embarrassed himself once in front of her today. He forced a grin. “Did you burn it off while you were cooking my dinner, babe?” “As I said, why would I be cooking your dinner if I didn’t think you were coming?” Rapunzel replied. “I just... felt like a change. A fresh start. You understand, don’t you?” “Of course I understand,” said Frederick knowingly, despite not understanding at all. Every time he thought he understood women, they’d come out with something like this. “We can absolutely make a fresh start together, if you want. Maybe you can start by letting your hair d--oh.” He broke off, and glanced around helplessly. “Er, how will I get up there?” There was a thoughtful pause, as if Rapunzel was deciding whether she wanted Frederick to come up at all--no, of *course* she wanted him to come up, he told himself. He was being ridiculous. Finally, she spoke: “You can use the rope ladder.” A frayed, gnarled ladder of greyish-brown rope dropped down in front on Frederick. He reached up and grabbed hold of it. “It’s so rough and scratchy,” he complained, frowning. “I’ll end up getting rope burn all over my hands, and that will be really painful. I much preferred climbing up a braid your soft, silky hair.” “Well, I’ll tell you what,” said Rapunzel, pulling the rope ladder back up. “I’ll start growing my hair now, and when it’s ready in another six months, you can climb it again. That way, it will be a pain-free experience for both of us.” Frederick bowed. “Thank you, Rapunzel.” “And I’ll be sure to have a special dinner ready for you this time,”she added. She almost sounded almost sarcastic, Frederick thought later that evening as he tucked into an undercooked chicken pie at a disreputable tavern in a nearby village. But he knew better--women were never sarcastic. They didn’t know how. He chased away the silly thought with a greedy gulp of ale, and mused about what sort of bawdy escapades he might get up to in between now and the dinner she was going to cook him in six months time. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ Rapunzel peered at her neat pixie-cut in the mirror, tucking a few wayward strands behind her ear. It would take some getting used to. It had been years since the witch, the one who had held her captive all those years ago, had died. She could leave at any time. Yet still she remained in her secluded tower, afraid of the outside world, interacting with nobody but the merchant who delivered her groceries (in a basket attached to her hair, of course) and the occasional hungry traveller. But something had snapped in her about a week ago. “What am I *doing?”* she had asked herself as she brushed her long, golden hair, frizzy and uncomfortably sweat-damp on that warm evening. “Why am I sitting around here, wasting my life waiting for that man? He’s not even that attractive.” She had taken the scissors to her hair that evening. The result was messy and uneven, but she felt so *free!* Why on earth had she let him climb up her hair? What was going through her *head?* Not much, now she thought about it--perhaps her brain was feeling suffocated by all that hair. Rapunzel turned from the mirror and cast one last sweeping glance around her room, then slowly, shakily made her way down the rope ladder--the one the witch had left for her ‘in case of a fire’ but warned her never to use, lest she ruin her soft, smooth hands, and which Rapunzel had never once dared to touch, not even in her rebellious teenage years. She winced as the scratchy rope chafed and burned her hands as she made her way down, but she didn’t care. Frederick would have to find someone else to cook his mushroom stew in six months time.


It will take a long time to explain what, exactly, I am about to tell you. And well it does not matter whether I tell you, though it feels necessary. Our kind so often considers yours inferior. We only declare ourselves as superior out of fact, not feeling. We have advanced far beyond what many of you could dream of comprehending. We began advancement in a similar, if not completely identical manner as your society had. It started in similar discoveries, and led to similar outcomes. We collapsed and rebuilt many times. But eventually, people began to think long term. Eventually, a society of ours did last long enough to become sustainable. And it remained so. We fought amongst ourselves, often. But we changed, slowly. We learned to cooperate. To plan ahead. Our greatest minds began to work together. And we stopped fighting. We advanced as a species. We collapsed and rebuilt many times, yet it was different than before. We never separated, sticking closer than ever before in the wake of increasingly unsustainable conditions. We were forced to adapt. And as a result, so were our creations. Forced breakthroughs in physics, mathematics, and every other comprehensible field led to revolution. For the first time in millennia, we stopped adapting to our surroundings. We were able to adapt our surroundings to *us*. We all were able to live as long as we wanted. Nanotechnology allows us all to live as long as we want, and however we want, within boundaries. This is where I reach what I am telling you. You will be afraid. But I know not any other way to describe this. How you react will not change the outcome. We learned all there is to know. All except for one question. We wanted to learn something that even our race, now capable of non-finite lifespans, and full interstellar colonization, had yet to learn. It was a simple, yet overbearingly complex question. It is a question even you humans have asked since the very dawn of your existence. The question was: "*Why are we here?"* And so, we took to what had previously been agreed upon to never have been done. We created life. We watched millions of civilizations rise, just as ours had, only to fall, with no legacy left behind whatsoever. Every last one of them, no matter how barbaric or perfected they grew, no matter how advanced their technology became, neither them nor ourselves got an answer. But finally, it has become apparent. The lack of an answer has been the only answer, right in front of us, this whole time. We have no purpose. And with that, we have agreed upon a common solution. One would think to say goodbye, but to who, or what? We have an answer: There is no answer. We, nor yourselves, will feel any pain. It will be instantaneous. As I said before, how you react cannot and will not change the outcome. You may see this as cruel, or insensitive, or both. Well you will not realize it now, we are simply saving you from suffering, and ending our own. Let us leave the universe to itself.


Just shy of one o’clock in the afternoon, the devil met me for a cup of coffee. Several hours afterwards, at 8:30 AM the same day, it occurred to me that I may not exist. \* \* \* The waitress raised her eyebrows and flashed me a tentative smile. “Give me a moment,” I said, craning my neck and squinting at the menu laid out on the counter between us. Lattes and espressos, a *yuenyeung* tea-coffee mixture from Hong Kong and several roasts that were as foreign to me as the countries they were named after. *Life on Mars* came on the radio. I found my fingers tapping, not quite to the beat, and glanced up. The waitress was swaying from side to side with her arms folded, left hand on top--a posture that put the largest sunspot I had ever seen on display. She must have been sixty, seventy years old. Perhaps this was the cafe’s owner? A waitress would have been more aggressive, knowing that more rapport would lead to a better tip. Was I taking too long to order? “You know, I don’t drink a lot of coffee. Do you have any recommendations?” “Today’s special is a Sicilian iced coffee,” she said in a single breath, seeming to have snapped out of a daydream. “It’s a cold brew, but the flavor is accentuated by honey and lemon syrup, so it isn’t as bitter as your typical black coffee.” I paused for a moment, trying to look as though I was pondering her suggestion. “Sure, that sounds great. But add an extra spoonful of sugar, just to be safe.” “You got it!” she said. “It’ll take a few minutes, so why don’t you get settled in and I’ll bring it over in a bit.” “Perfect.” I turned towards the stairway and made my way up to the second floor. \- With a final step, I set foot into the midst of a peculiar battleground. Rather than soldiers, however, a mismatch of furniture stood at arms. If the room were a pair of jeans, there would be more patch than denim. A red and white striped retro dining booth occupied one corner, a trio of high-backed metal chairs another. Next to them sat a fabric couch. The interior of the room was dotted with tables of various heights, punctuated with an even wider assortment of chairs--none the same color, many too tall or short for their accompanying table--and in the center of it all stood a large cheval mirror. After a moment’s deliberation, I settled for a nightstand that was flanked by two leather chairs overlooking the street. Unlike in here, nothing seemed out of place in the world beyond the window. High and low, the city was letting go of summer and preparing for autumn. An iron fence loomed over the sidewalk, beyond it a row of trees stood in various states of disarray. Some were aflame with red and orange leaves, others still in the process of yellowing. A pair of birds fluttered about, dancing in the air, and below them on the street people walked by in sweaters and puffy coats. A young boy was bobbing back and forth on his tiptoes, straining to read a sign at the bus stop which had (unfortunately) been placed several inches above his head. A blue car drove by. “Coffee!” the waitress’s voice called out behind me, followed by footsteps and creaking stairs. At the risk of coming off heavy handed, the best way I can describe her voice is that it sounded like people in commercials look when they’re holding a cup of coffee. The steam reaching up to caress their faces, morning dreariness melting away. Pleasant, intimate even. I closed my eyes and sank a little deeper into the warmth of her voice, listening to the clicks of her heels panning left and right as she navigated around the furniture. The footsteps disappeared behind me, the scent of roses crept up to my nose and I opened my eyes at a soft *thud*, the sound of the waitress setting my mug of coffee on the nightstand. “Thank you,” I said, turning my head and looking back. “Don’t mention it.” “It’s an interesting place you’ve got here, ma’am.” The waitress smiled at me. “It’s a metaphor for life, sort of.” Wrinkles formed around her eyes. Squinting made her smile appear all the bigger, as if her teeth were pulling back on her lips in order to see me better. They were slightly yellow. “How so?” “Well, not all of the pieces match, for one. You see that booth in the corner?” she pointed with her chin to our right. “Originally, the whole place was full of ‘em. That was the style back then. Big band jazz music on the radio and roller skates on the floors. Sometimes we even had live stuff, too. My husband cooked and I bused the tables. *Man*, those were the days.” The waitress closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the tips of her lips seemingly compelled upwards as her lungs filled with air. For a single moment at the very top, in that space between an inhale and an exhale, her face became so soft and sweet that I imagined I had never cared for anything half as much as she cherished whatever was on her mind. And then, almost before I had finished the thought, the inevitable puff of air escaped her nostrils. Her wrinkles re-emerged and, laden with the weight of bygone years, the curve of her smile flattened out. The waitress aged a quarter century in the time it took to open her eyes. “And then he disappeared. As abruptly as that. I woke up one morning and he was gone. Shortly after, furniture from the diner started going, too. Once every several months I’d show up to discover that something had gone missing. Booths, tables, neon signs, the toaster; nothing was safe. We had quite a few regulars and they would help me keep an eye on things, and the police chief went out of his way to make sure somebody was on our street every night, but no one ever saw anything. It was like things were slipping away into the void that Andrew had left behind. That booth in the corner there is the last remnant of those days, but at this point, it looks just as out of place as everything else. I suppose it’ll see itself out some night, too, before long.” Behind the counter she had talked like a woman unaccustomed to being interrupted; now, like she wasn’t used to having anyone that listened to her. Perhaps that indifferent confidence had been too heavy to lug up the stairs behind herself. The more I looked at her, the more I saw a decrepit old woman. You know the type--alone at a wedding table, hunched over and quietly eating with a plastic spoon. Eyes too heavy to lift off her plate, one leg crossed over the other. Someone’s frail little aunt that had never married, or maybe a complete stranger who had just shown up and everyone assumed must be related somehow. “...What I mean is, well, I can’t cook, you see, but I’d still go to the diner in the mornings for the old people who gathered there, even though all I could do was make them coffee...” *She had been talking the entire time*. The waitress had withered to such an extent that, if you took your eyes off of her lips, you might not notice that she was speaking. “... And after work I would travel all over looking for Andrew, eventually returning with other people’s discarded furniture and ideas for new coffees instead. Somehow it worked out, though. I built a base of new regulars--a cafe attracts people who like coffee, after all--and got featured in a few magazines. Suddenly, the pieces I’d snatched from other puzzles became just as real as the original ones. It was a damned mess,” she paused. “But it was worth putting together, at least once.” “Huh,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t notice I’d tuned out and not having the heart to tell her that I’d never drank so much as a drop of coffee in my entire life. “I’m sorry to hear about your husband, ma’am.” “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s in the past. Thirty years is a long time,” she said, “Anyhow, it’s me who should be apologizing. You didn’t come here for an old woman’s life story. I’ll leave you to your coffee, sugar. ” The waitress spun on her heel and walked away, but not so quickly that I didn’t notice her cheeks were flushed. I guess she had shared more than she intended. Or maybe she did that to everyone. I didn’t mind, anyhow. On the contrary, I wish she’d have stayed longer. It had only been a couple minutes, but that was all it took to understand why people flocked to the place. In spite of whoever’s discarded furniture you might be, when you walked through the doors of the cafe, you became just one more odd or end that didn’t quite fit; in short, you belonged. \- I took a moment to reorient myself, then took measure of the coffee: Ice cubes floating on top of black bile, coated in a layer of what was presumably lemon zest. My nose wrinkled at the smell. *A cafe attracts people who like coffee*, I told myself, then inhaled deeply to steel my nerves and took a drink. Bitter. Incredibly bitter, in a vile and oppressive way. I couldn’t help but scrunch my entire face shut. Moreover, the lemon lent it a fetid overtone. I choked it down, then sat frozen for a full ten seconds as my body processed what had just happened to it. The flavor clung to my taste buds and lingered in my throat. All sense of time disappeared. When I eventually unscrewed my face and opened my eyes, I flinched again: there was a ball sitting on--in?--the mug of coffee. Red, plastic, flimsy. Like what you’d find in a ballpit. I shook my head, incredulous, and blinked. The ball was still there. I spun around, wondering if the waitress had played some sort of trick on me. Nobody there. I poked the ball, which gave slightly under the weight of my finger. It was an ordinary ball, but why was it here? I reached up to rub my eyes--and when I opened them, it was gone. Unobstructed, my gaze carried through where the ball had been and proceeded on out the window. The little boy from earlier was staring straight at me. He had abandoned the bus stop, walked to the curb of the street and raised his head--only his head--to look at me. His arms hung down, flaccid, and his shoulders slumped as if burdened by a heavy weight. There was no bend in his knees, though; in fact, his posture was otherwise straight as a needle. Only his head broke that line, lolling upwards nearly sixty degrees. It was like his eyes were affixed to mine, and his body merely dangled lifeless beneath. He squinted, and then a brilliant flare of pain struck me like lightning, leaving me blind. I convulsed. My windpipe tightened. And then, as quickly as it came, the pain disappeared. When the world came back into focus, the boy was nowhere to be seen. Nobody sitting at the bus stop appeared alarmed. He hadn’t walked off; at least, I don’t think he could have made it to the next block so quickly. A chill raced along my spine. There was no sign of his existence, save the coffee and lemon zest that I must have splattered at the window during one of the spasms. My hand, and the mug it clutched, was still trembling. I sat it back down on the table. “You are going to die in twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds.” I looked left so forcefully that my neck popped and its muscles strained. “This world will end shortly after,” the boy said. “Presumably.” “Exc--” “I’m the devil,” he cut me off with a wave of his hand. “And I’m here on business. I need your help, Alfred.” “Why do you know my name?” The boy turned to me the moment I opened my mouth. “Did I not just tell who I am?” His eyes bulged. “You’re... I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “The devil?” “Mastema, Supay, Yanluo Wang--I’m fond of George, personally. Call me George, Alfred.” I recoiled, surprised at such an unassuming name. On second thought, though, it did suit him. If this really was the devil, he seemed like a typical young boy. No horns, no tail. Ten, eleven years old. There *was* a somewhat foul smell, but that was most likely the coffee. “And you’re here on... business.” The devil audibly exhaled and then closed his eyes. “I’m looking for a ball.” “A *ball*?” “Yes.” “Any old ball?” “No. It’s a red ball.” “A red ball.” “The shiny plastic kind, like you’d find in a ball pit. I lost it.” My ears became hot, and a different kind of tremble began working through my body. “A ball? All of this,” I gestured out at the spilled coffee. “For a fucking ball?” The boy cast me a sidelong glance, and as seamlessly as testicles entering cold water go from grapes to raisins, my anger became fear. “It’s the most important thing in the universe, Alfred.” “If you’re the devil, why don’t you get it yourself?” George did not respond immediately. “Ten minutes and forty-three seconds, Alfred.” As soon as the thought entered my mind that this was all ridiculous--and rightly so, I still think--the tightness in my throat returned. My muscles contracted, the bones in my spine cracked one by one. George’s hand crept through the air towards my forehead. The collision was jarring, as if I’d belly-flopped out of a helicopter, and then it melted into a tickling sensation. I felt light-headed. The gravity of my entire body gathered in my eyelids, like a startled soul discovering an exit to its pot. “See for yourself, then.” Gravity pulled stronger and stronger at me; within a few seconds it was all I could do to keep my head upright. Next it drooped, and then I collapsed on top of my thighs. Still heavier it grew; the force pried apart my knees and, inch by inch, I descended into a standing pike position. My hamstrings reached their limit; something snapped. I could not scream. The force got stronger and I was yanked into a prone position, and then the dragging started. Led by my eyelids I was dragged across the cafe floor, body limp behind me, more and more quickly until everything became a blur. I bounced down the stairs, sailed out the door and flew through the park. Eventually a clocktower rose in front of me and, with one final yank, I was left dangling in front of its face. “What time is it, Alfred?” George materialized upon the ledge in front of me. “12:57,” I said, surprised to not feel the presence of any bumps or bruises. “And 4 seconds,” he added. “The Bulge will occur at 12:59.” “The Bulge?” George looked up at me and rubbed his chin. “Are you familiar with the concept of perdurantism, Alfred?” “I can’t say that I am, no.” “It’s a philosophical take on a physics problem, to be brief.” George stepped off the ledge and walked through the air to where I was floating, then placed one arm around my shoulders and gestured towards the clocktower with the other. “What do you suppose we’d see if I were to remove some of these bricks?” He asked. “The inside of the building, of course.” “Precisely!” he said. “Your current position prevents you from physically observing that the tower extends back a ways, but you know that it does. Although you can only see its face, your experience tells you that there is depth to the building, too. It *is* three dimensional, after all.” “That’s correct,” I said, frowning. George nodded. “When we approach the building from a different angle, we confirm that there is more to it than originally met the eye,” He walked towards the corner of the tower, taking me with him. “Perdurantism assumes the same of your temporal being--that it has a persistent depth, of sorts, which is beyond our perception. Fitzgerald put it more romantically: *I don’t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there’ll always be the person I am to-night.* The Bulge is a sort of singularity in which all of those tendrils extending throughout time collapse into a single moment, rendering the rest of eternity nothing but empty space.” At that moment, as if on cue, the clocktower bulged. That’s not the right word, exactly, but it’s hard to describe what happened. Imagine a nuclear bomb detonating beneath an indestructible rubber. The building swelled up like a balloon castle, as if it were special effects in a low-budget movie, and then deflated in upon itself. Upon reaching the ground, a blast surged off in all directions, distorting everything it touched. The wave extended beyond the horizon before my eyes had finished widening in shock. “Look more closely, Alfred.” I was too stunned to respond, but the devil continued, anyway. “Any second, now.” And then I saw it: an encroaching darkness. “With every second that passes, more and more of the world will step off the gangplank of time. You are witnessing the Void--or as Henri Bergson put it, *the pure present, the ungraspable advance of your past devouring its future*. In less than a minute nothing will remain of the city,” he said, “nothing except for you, Alfred.” “*Me*? Why *me*?” The devil grinned. It began as something small and measured, quickly reaching the limits of what could be considered a polite smile before suddenly stiffening. His chest heaved once--he appeared both relaxed and tensed at the same time, if that’s possible. Like someone in the shower who had just barely managed to keep hold of their bar of soap, breathing a sigh of relief but not quite ready to move yet, lest the slippery thing pop out after all. At last, the soap won: a monstrous grin ate away at his face. The smile itself looked pleasant enough, friendly even, but it was spoiled by his eyes: within them were the depths of hell, a million helpless souls gazing back at me. I had not yet made up my mind about him, but with that single glance I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that before me stood the devil. “Because someone loved you very, *very* much.” I blinked. His words struck me of my terror, or perhaps they resonated with something deeper. “*Who?”* I heard myself blurt out. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that, unfortunately. Business, you know.” The devil straightened the tie of his school uniform--silk, judging from its shimmer--and then yanked on his lapel, ridding it of wrinkles and any trace of his outburst. “Suffice it to say that you do not belong here, and this world can not coexist with you. Brick by brick the clocktower will fade away, and once it is gone, the Void will consume me, too. You will be a ghost condemned to forever wander the alleys of a neighborhood without neighbors, long smothered but with nowhere for your soul to go,” the devil said. He gave his blazer one final tug and then looked back up at me, seemingly satisfied with his tidying. “A Soviet biophysicist once wrote that the fading of a mind is much more terrible still than that of an entire universe. I agree, Alfred.” “Can’t you stop it?” The devil bit his lip, then released it into a small smile that contained none of the passion it had a moment before. I’m not sure if he had read my mind or simply peered into my eyes, but whatever he saw caused his entire demeanor to change. He contemplated me; weighing his words, uncertain of their consequences. “I can not change the future,” he said, finally. “I merely see it.” We stood there staring at each other as the clock approached one, silent, the world falling away around us. The darkness advanced--not in a hurried or uniform fashion; rather like a toddler only half certain how to maneuver its feet. In lulls and meandering, but tirelessly nonetheless. “Twenty seven seconds, Alfred.” It had reached the clocktower now, and as its bricks disappeared, the gears and levers they hid peeked out at me. “I’ll help you.” The devil once again placed his hand upon my forehead--moving much more quickly this time, I might add. My feet became anchors and I was pulled into the depths of the void. Eventually my toes touched the street and the world rebuilt itself in front of my eyes; my heels were pulled out from under me and everything melted into a blur. \- When I came to, I was sitting in the same armchair as before, the devil next to me. “What now? Rather than responding, Gorge stood up and walked over to the cheval mirror. He reached up, grasped its upper frame and then spun it twice. The pane was now pitch black. “We’re the reflection,” he explained, taking a step back. “There is no light coming from the inside of a mirror, so you can’t see anything from over here.” “What now?” “Just step inside.” “But it’s a mirror?” “Touch the glass.” I hesitated. “Do you need to see the world end again?” A lump formed in my throat. “Me first?” “Of course,” he said. “God knows how troublesome it would be if you changed your mind and I had to find my way back here again. I might not make it back in time!” I took a step and was immediately stricken by a blinding light. “Welcome,” said the devil, “to the other side of the clocktower.


It was a truth in my family about our gift though we didn’t always admit to it. Sometimes we were thought to be crazy until our dreams came to pass. At times we were avoided by the people around us and other times they came for aid. My grandma told me a story about how her mother had awoken one night covered in sweat. She didn’t take the time to put on her boots or a coat, she just bolted out the front door to the neighbors. She watched through her window as her mother ran across the field looking like the ghost of some beautiful lady in her white nightgown, blonde hair flying in the wind. She returned that morning, her nightgown no longer white, but singed and blackened with soot. It took some time for her to get the smell of smoke out of her hair, but she managed to stop the fire before any harm came to the neighboring family or their farm. My great-grandma could predict the future with her dreams, but that didn’t always mean she could stop it. One day her husband had gone out hunting. My great-grandma Delila begged him not to go. She said he was in danger of being mistaken for a deer. He didn’t listen until a stray bullet whizzed past his head. He finally decided to heed his wife’s warning and head home. While walking across the back road to get home he was hit by a car. The driver had been injured and was found muttering about hitting a deer. My grandma Layla told me about her dreams and how her predictions weren’t as strong as her mother’s but they still came true with some interpreting. She always knew when her husband was doing things he shouldn’t. She tried to stop him before he gambled away all their money. He thought her predictions could help him at the track but she told him it didn’t work that way. But all it took was her pointing out the winning horse one time and he was hooked. They had often fought about how she was lying about not being able to predict the winners. He thought she was trying to hold him back. He threatened to divorce her if she didn’t help him out. She agreed to the divorce. The day after it went through she went to the races, picked a horse and won more in one day than her husband had in the last five years. Layla always maintained that it was luck, but her ex-husband never believed it. Since there had not been a prenuptial agreement she got half of everything along with alimony. I asked my grandma if she had really been okay with him leaving and she said that there would be another man, a better one. She married that man a year later. He had come to town shortly after the divorce on business and met my grandma as she had lunch on a park bench. Before that day my grandma had never sat on that bench let alone ate lunch there. She said she dreamed of that bench the night before and that morning she went to that bench and sat there until he arrived. “Did you know what he would look like?” I asked her. “I never really knew what he looked like in the dream, it was more like a blurry figure in the shape of a man. All I knew was that he felt like kindness and warmth and home. He felt like a lifetime of happy memories and children I could pass my gift to,” she answered. And she did. She passed that gift to my mother and her sister. My mother in turn passed it down to me, the only girl in the family. It was only ever the women in our family who had it and over the generations it had diluted some, but it was still there. Some people dismissed it as “women’s intuition” but we all knew it was a bit more than that. I often thought that if it had gone back generations upon generations ago it must have been a truly powerful gift to behold. That my ancestors were probably thought of as witches or oracles, but it only went back as far as my great-great grandma. Grandma Layla said her grandma had made some money working as a fortune teller after coming to America, but she got more fortunes wrong than right. Layla said she had to otherwise something bad might happen to her. People were more superstitious where she was from and didn’t treat her right. Layla never went into too much detail. I think she was afraid I would reject my gift if I knew. There really had not been a reason for that, my gift barely existed. It worked more for convenience. I would dream about mundane things like if there was going to be an accident before I went to work. Nothing bad, no injuries, just traffic. I would hear a phone ringing in my dream five minutes before it rang and I would know who was going to be on the other line. I felt that, with how my gift manifested, my future daughter could look forward to a constant feeling of deja vu and nothing more. Grandma Layla said it could take time for my power to fully manifest, but I was now her age when her first husband divorced her, and older than my great-grandma when she stopped that fire. Even my mother had her strongest premonitions when she was younger than me. She was stronger than me but still couldn’t stop the car crash. Grandma Layla said my mother saw it coming, she told my grandma about it, but she still couldn’t stop it. When I was old enough Grandma Layla told me that she saw it too, but she knew something that didn’t appear in my mother’s dream. She told me that if she had tried to change fate or if my mother tried to stop it that we would have all died in that crash. My brother, my father, and me. She turned the car just enough so that she took the force of the impact. I don’t know how she knew how to do that, maybe instinct, but she did. I ended up with a head injury and a concussion but was otherwise fine, the same with my father. My brother was in the ICU for a few days, we thought we might lose him too, but grandma assured us he would be okay, and that was all I needed. I remember asking her why the accident had to happen, why there was nothing that could be done to change fate. She told me some things just couldn’t be changed. My mom’s fate was set in stone but ours could be changed at that moment. Sometimes destiny needs a little help and that's what we were for, that's what our gift was for, even if we can’t see it at the time. I understood her words but I never felt like they applied to me. My gift was so useless I couldn’t see how I would be able to help fate or destiny whatever it was, along. On the bright side I knew how and when I would be getting a promotion at my job. I knew when I should dump a guy or not bother showing up to the date at all, but beyond that I still hadn’t got those fortunes of doom and destruction my elders had gotten. I guess I should be thankful for that. Some things I could change, but others, if I tried to intervene it would cause the event to happen, which was frustrating. I went along with my life and career trying to do what I could with my little talent. It was more for my mom and grandma than for me. They would have been heart broken if I turned my back on it, especially being the only one in the family now that could pass on that knowledge. I got ready for work one morning. I avoided wearing the heels I usually wore. I loved them. They hurt like a son of a bitch at the end of the day, but before that I was tall and confident. I woke with a kick that morning as I dreamed I fell down a flight of stairs at work. So I went with a more sensible shoe, thinking that that had been the cause of the fall. I went to work a little early that morning. I had a meeting that day, I had been preparing for for weeks. My neighbor wished me luck as she left with her twins to school. I told her not to take Grant street. She listened, even if she didn’t entirely believe in my gift, she still would listen to an extent. The meeting went well and I walked confidently to the stairs leading down to my office. I could have used the elevator but it often got stuck and it took less time to walk than to ride down. I began my descent when my shoe slipped on the edge of the stair. I lost my footing and before I knew it I was at the bottom of the staircase. I forgot that the reason I never wore these shoes was because they had terribly slick soles. I laid in a crumpled mess at the bottom of the stairs. I heard a loud repetitive “tip-tap” of feet running toward me. Several people came to my aid. Some tried to help me up while others insisted that I shouldn’t move. My head was killing me. I felt a large goose egg protruding from above my right eyebrow. One woman grabbed a bucket as a nauseated feeling crept up my throat. Another woman called for an ambulance. I tried to assure them I was okay, but I wasn’t. I don’t recall it but apparently I had lost consciousness for about ten seconds. At the hospital the doctor told me I had a pretty severe concussion and my ankle was sprained. He had asked about an old injury he saw on the x-ray of my head. I told him about the crash. He seemed concerned about that and told me I was to stay overnight for observation and that I should be okay to leave the next afternoon, if nothing went wrong. I tossed and turned most of the night. They gave me something for the raging headache but everything still hurt. They didn’t want to give me anything that would be a sedative in case something happened. A nurse checked on me every hour or so. I could feel her watching me try to sleep. Finally I dozed off for a couple hours. I awoke drenched in sweat with tears streaming down my face. I saw something horrible in my dream- no - in my nightmare. The heart rate monitor they had me attached to was going off like crazy. A nurse and a doctor soon entered my room in a panic. “Are you alright?” they both asked as the doctor went straight to the monitor to access the issue. “I-I’m fine. I just- I need to get home right away.” “I’m sorry but I don’t think that would be wise,” the doctor responded. “Then I need an officer to go to my neighbors apartment.” “Why would you need that?” “Somebody is going to hurt them,” I blurted out. “How do you know that?” “I had a dream. My dreams always come true. It's a family thing.” “You believe your dreams foretell the future?” I hardly ever let people know about my family's gift, mostly because of the condescending tone that was delivered upon me. This doctor had an especially patronizing way of speaking, but that might be the doctor in him. “Look, I’m sure your neighbors are fine and that it was simply a bad dream. You did have a serious fall with a head injury and that can cause such a thing to happen.” I wasn’t convinced that he believed that. After checking my vitals both he and the nurse left. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911. I explained the situation to the operator, making sure to omit the details about my prediction. Honestly I wasn’t really sure what was going on. I had never had a dream this vivid, but I knew it would come to pass if I didn’t do something about it. They did a wellness check, but nothing came of it. The family was just fine, a little shaken from being woken up to an officer in the middle of the night but otherwise fine. This was the first time I had doubted my talent. It was so real like every other dream. Maybe I was missing something. I was discharged the next day. I caught the elevator up to my apartment. It was early in the evening by the time I got home. I tried to recall the dream, it was horrifying. A man had broken into my neighbors apartment looking to steal anything he could. I heard a gun go off several times. There was blood everywhere. That man had killed them all. Maybe it was just a dream, I did have a head injury. Who knew how that would affect my ability. I recalled the dream again trying to think of any detail I missed. It had been raining in the dream which didn’t make sense since it had been sunny for days with no cloud in sight. I made myself dinner and tried to shake the last twenty four hours off. I dozed off for a few minutes after eating. I had only been asleep for about five minutes before I heard a knock on my door. I listened for another and...nothing. I looked down the hall of my building, I didn’t see anybody. My head must have been worse than I thought. If that were true I couldn’t trust my abilities. I sat down to watch some t.v. before bed when I heard a loud crack of lightning, then another crack, not lightning. A full downpour sounded through my apartment. Rain! I limped to the door, (ignoring the sprained ankle) thrusting it open in time to see a man I had never seen before about to enter my neighbors apartment. I saw in his hand, a gun. I didn’t know what to do, I was a bit shocked that my vision was about to come true. The strongest vision I had ever had. He stopped, staring at me. I panicked as I grabbed the fire alarm just outside my door. There was a loud explosive sound and then my whole body felt numb. I watched his feet run past me and then another set. It was my neighbor’s husband. He pressed against my shoulder as his wife dialed 911. Another ambulance ride in less than two days. I was told that I was lucky that my neighbor was a surgeon. He knew how to slow the bleeding down just enough for the ambulance to make it. I was told I was luckier still that the bullet had just missed my heart. I was in the hospital for a week. It took a while for everything to heal. In time, the head injury I had sustained the day before healed as well and with it my visions returned to what they were before, well, maybe a little stronger. My neighbor went on to save countless lives. Lives that may have been cut short if that intruder had accomplished his goal. I later found out that his children followed in his footsteps going into medicine. I remained friends with the family. The night before my daughter was born, I knew trouble was coming. Like his father saved me, the son saved my daughter after a difficult labor. I don’t know if I had really helped fate or destiny along that night, but I taught my daughter what my grandma taught me, even if her talent was little more than deja vu.


It was a warm and clear afternoon, or at least barely afternoon anymore as the sun was still in the sky but was due to set in a little while, on the day of the Mid Summer Fireworks Festival. On the day of the Fireworks Festival, there was music and dancing, games, food, and every year the whole mid summer event ended with a grandiose Fireworks Display on the Riverfront. A mother and father brought their young daughter to the Festival. "You know, Hanabi, this Festival is where your mommy and daddy first met!" Said the mother. "Really, Mommy??" Said the little girl. "Really, honey." Said the father, looking at his wife. 5 years earlier... 'Red Lanterns lined the streets, Acrobats put on a show for spectators, the sound of drums, shamisens, and reed flutes permeated the air. 20 year old Kentaro stood by a maple tree eating Pork Buns while waiting for a group of his friends when a beautiful woman in an extravagant red Kimono walked up to him. The woman winked at him and walked past, gesturing towards him with his finger. Kentaro, too entranced with her beauty to think clearly, followed her. The woman weaved through buildings, then through the Pine Trees and Bamboo Thickets, and Kentaro followed. The beautiful woman in the red Kimono stopped behind a shrine to the spirits surrounded by a small grove of Maple Trees. Kentaro followed her to the back of the shrine. She grabbed onto his hand with one hand, gently grabbed his shoulder with the other, and closed her eyes and ever so slightly leaned in for a kiss. Kentaro closed his eyes too, and then he also leaned in for a kiss, but unbeknownst to Kentaro, as soon as he had closed his eyes, the beautiful woman in an extravagant red Kimono had literally vanished in a puff of smoke. Kentaro had waited a moment, no kiss, then another moment, no kiss, then yet another moment and still no kiss. Confused, Kentaro opened his eyes to see what the problem was, and saw a Fox Spirit rolling around on the ground laughing in front of a grove of trees. "A Fox Spirit? I followed a Fox Spirit to this Shrine? Kentaro muttered to himself. The Fox Spirit stopped laughing at the poor boy, got up on it's feet, and then turned into a ball of light and sped off into the woods. Kentaro kicked a nearby rock on the ground in frustration and embarrassment. "I can never let my friends find out about how I got tricked like this. They'll never let me hear the end of it.... and to top it off, I don't even know where I am or how to get back to the Festival..." he muttered to himself. Kentaro walked around the Shrine and started down the street leading back to the Fireworks Festival when a Girl about Kentaro's age walked out of the house across the street in Festival Robes. Kentaro then shyly crossed the street and said to the girl "Excuse me ma'am, but I seem to have gotten lost on my way to the Fireworks Festival. May I please walk with you if you're going there?" "Oh, sure! That's no problem for me! My Dad is selling Takoyaki at the Festival!" The girl said with a giggle. So the Girl lead the way to the Fireworks Festival chatting with Kentaro, while Kentaro followed, happy to have someone to show him where to go. When they got to the Fireworks Festival entrance, Kentaro turned to the girl and said "Say, I don't believe I've caught your name yet. My name is Kentaro, and you are?" The Girl giggled "My name is Minako. Nice to meet you!" "Nice to meet you too. Would you like to meet my friends, Minako?" Kentaro said. "I'd be thrilled to, Kentaro!" Minako said. So Kentaro escorted Minako to where his friends were waiting for him. A male voice from the maple tree by the shaved ice stand said "Hey Kentaro, you're only just barely on time!" "Hi. Shinichi, I just...got lost." Shinichi shrugged. Ryo said "Hey, Kentaro, who's that girl?" Kentaro turned to Minako and said "This is Minako. We met on the way over here." "Nice to meet you, Ryo. Nice to meet you Shinichi, Hikari. Hey, my Dad has a Takoyaki shop close by, would you like to meet him?" Minako said cheerfully. "Sounds good, I'm hungry." Ryo said. "Typical Ryo, always thinking about food!" Shinichi said with a snark. "Hey!" Ryo shouted. "Anyway I think me and Hikari will go to the Koi Pond instead." Shinichi said. "Alright then." Kentaro said. He then turned to Minako. "Lead the way, my lady!" Minako lead Kentaro and Ryo to the shop where her Father sold Takoyaki. "Hi, Minako. Who's your friend? Said her father. "Hi Dad, this is my friend Kentaro!" Minako answered cheerfully. "Nice to meet you, I'm Chou. Can I help you tonight?" Asked the Shopkeeper. "Yeah, I'll have a bite!" Kentaro said, paying for his food. "Coming right up!" Chou said. And so, Kentaro, Minako, Shinichi, Hikari and Ryo ate street food, played Festival games, and watched the miniature shrine Parade leading up to the Fireworks display. Before the Fireworks display, Shinichi, Hikari and Ryo took a number of steps back by a nearby Pine Tree so that Kentaro and Minako could be sitting on the grass alone together. The full moon hung low on the horizon. Bright, bold explosions of Red, White, Yellow, Blue, Green purple and Pink adorned the night sky in a dazzling array of shapes and sizes. Kentaro had found himself and Minako so absorbed in the Fireworks display in the night sky that they were both absentmindedly holding hands and blushed. Later that night, when Kentaro got to his bedroom for the night, he slumped into his bed not sure whether he was tired, or lovestruck, or both. Meanwhile, when Minako got to her room for the night, she slumped into her bed not sure whether she was tired, or lovestruck, or both.' The Father and Mother smiled as their young daughter looked up at the pretty colors in the sky in amazement.


I can’t sleep. I’m staring at the ceiling watching the fans blades slowly rotate. I roll to my side and see my wife fast asleep. My eyes start to grow heavy as I drift off to sleep. My breathing begins to get slower and the world starts to fade to sleep. I feel some time pass. There is a loud thumping sound from downstairs. My eyes pop wide open. I still hear the thumps from below. I quickly stumble out of bed grabbing my phone and pocket knife to go downstairs to go explore the source. I often hear random disturbances at night. I live in a neighborhood that many would call “a bad neighborhood”, crime is not uncommon here. I begin walking down the stairs, I can see where I am going because we keep a downstairs light on every night. The light softly illuminates the shadows from the kitchen. The entire time I walk, my ears are listening for any disturbances, for any sounds that are alien. I turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs that leads into the kitchen. No signs of life. Our old grandfather clock ticks methodically in the background, as it does every night. I make my way to the back door and glance out the window to the back porch. As I flip the flood lights on, illuminating the backyard, I see a quick dash of movement. An animal scutters running from the light, a raccoon. I let out a sigh of release. For some reason I still I feel on edge, but I can’t find anything out of place. I go back upstairs and get back into bed, the fan blades still spinning. I begin to start falling back asleep. In my sleepy haze I feel a weight lift off the bed, I roll over to face the bedroom door. I see my wife go to the bathroom, the light slightly shines through the crack in the door. My eyes begin to get heavy again. I see her figure walk back to the bed, I feel the pressure back on the other side of the mattress. I start falling back to sleep... I notice the lights glow is still on.... “Honey I think you left the light on” I say mildly in my half sleep. “What, did you say something?’ I hear her voice from the bathroom. Adrenaline surges through me, I am not longer feeling asleep. My hair stands on my neck. I am fully awake now. I still feel the pressure on the other side of the bed. My breathing begins to pick up a little as my body tenses, preparing myself to turn around and look. My mind flashes back to the disturbance from earlier in the night.... There is pressure on the bed... Who is in bed with me? \ If you liked that, check out my subreddit . I am a novice writer and love feedback. My first attempt all Horror, all feedback welcome.


I looked to the emperor as he sat upon his throne in the balcony that encompassed the arena. My opponent standing feet away from me as we awaited the single word that would begin our battle. "Begin," the emperor said with a wave of his hand. Immediately he was upon me, a hulking man with a trident and a net. The first thrust of his weapon was fast, but not quite fast enough. It glanced off of the top of my shoulder carving a gash that would surely scar. Another to add to the collection. I raised my shield and quickly batted the the pole-arm to the side and moved in to close the distance between us. I couldn't allow him to keep me at bay. As i stepped pass the lethal range of his trident I sent my sword jabbing towards his gut. He made a quick step backwards but the point of my Gladius had bit in no more than an inch, just a sting to a man such as this. With a quick twirl of the mans trident I found myself again being pushed back do to my lack of range. I was frustrated, angry that I couldn't pass the Retiarius's guard. I fucking hate those that practice the style of the Retiarius. We circled each other like caged beasts and in essence that's exactly what we were. Animals forced to fight as people paid to come and watch us savage monsters. Give them a show and get rewarded. Don't...and well you die. The sweat pooled at my brow, thankfully not dripping into my eyes as it caught on the inner lip of my helmet. An aggressive thrust again came towards me and I stepped to the side to avoid the three sharp prongs. *Shit.* I saw it but it was too late, I had committed to the side step. With his other hand the Retiarius whipped his net at my moving feet catching my left foot. He grinned as he ripped my feet out from under me sending me sprawling to my back. *Move, Move.* I rolled quickly to my right as the trident slammed down where I was previously positioned. *His leg is over extended, that's my opening.* I quickly, from the ground slashed at his knee as I rolled to my feet still tangled in his damned net, but my aim was true and my Gladius split his knee cap in half. He fell to the floor with a scream that pierced the heavens as he clutched his knee and dropped his weapon. I shambled as quickly as my tangled legs would allow. Moving behind the Retiarius and pulling his head up by his hair, my blade firm against his neck I looked towards the emperor who leaned over the rails with his thumb positioned towards the side. "KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!" The crowd roared deafeningly. The emperor looked around the stands of the coliseum and nodded in agreement and with that he turned his hand to the thumbs down position. I swiftly pulled my blade across the mans throat and as he gargled his own blood the crowd cheered louder. They are the monsters not I. After undoing the net at my feet I walked over to the northern part of the arena, the closest to the balcony where I stood with my sword across my chest in salute. The emperor saluted me in return and nodded his head as he turned and moved to make way to his seat and that is when I saw her. The love of my life who i had thought i would never see again. She was sitting at a seat next to him and i was frozen. Motionlessly staring at her as she smiled and sipped a glass of what I could only guess to be red wine. Her favorite. She turned her head and met my gaze, her eyes narrowed at me, the went wide as the realization struck. She dropped her wine and it spilled on her white dress staining it the same color as the blood that stained the sands. "Gladiator! Move it!" a guard called to me from the gate snapping me from my shock. I made way to the wrought iron gate and found myself at my small cell. I don't really remember walking there. I was a prized fighter in the eyes of the emperor and as thus was allotted my own cell away from the other gladiators when we weren't training. As I doffed the few pieces of armor I wore my brain racked itself of what had just happened. It felt fake, like a dream i would soon wake up from. The last time I had seen Ophelia was years ago, the day i was drug off in chains for a murder i didn't commit. The only reason i was allowed the option to become a gladiator was because of my noble status. My family was a low tier noble house. Often forgotten about and hardly known but Noble none the less. *How is she here? How? How? How?* I thought to myself as I sat on the small bed, tears beginning to well in my eyes. The blood from my wound streamed down my chest and pooled at my feet but still my body felt numb. I must have sat there for hours because when the guard knocked on my cell door sliding open the small slit to look in it was dark. "Dascus, you have a visitor, " he called in to me. The slit was slid closed and the jingle of keys was audible as he unlocked the door and a figure walked in wearing a dark cloak that shaded the wearers face. The cell door was closed and locked again. The figure walked closer and pulled down the hood. There she was before me the one i had though to never see again. Soft curls fell around her face and on her lips was a sad smile and from her beautiful eyes fell a tear that even in the dim light sparkled like a diamond. "I never thought I would see you again, How are you here? Why?" I said to her, my voice breaking and body shaking from the emotion that swelled within me like the black storms that rolled off the coast. With that she rushed towards me and my muscled tensed from reflex but she gently cupped my face in her hands and kissed me lightly, the way the wings of a butterfly get caught on the wind. The wound on my shoulder began to close as I tightly embraced her and that's how we sat for some time. I was lost in her touch, in her smell. Like honey and lemons. "My father wishes me to marry him" she said as i felt her sob in my arms. She sat next to me on the bed and leaned her head on my shoulder my arms still embracing her fully. "Ophelia, he is a monster you cant marry him," I said softly. *You were meant for me.* I thought to myself as I closed my eyes to hold back the flood of tears. **There is another version i have that is longer with an alternate ending.


PREMONITION Sita woke up with a start in the middle of the night. She didn’t know what woke her, was it a sound or someone had shaken her. She realized that she had fallen from the cot where she had slept at night. The floor was cold as it had been raining for the past few days. The pattering of the raindrops on the metal roof could be heard day and night. As she became aware of her surroundings, her consciousness returned. Her first thought was what had happened, then came the remnants of her last vision. Was it a dream? She was running as fast as she could and a wall of water was following her. No matter how fast she ran the roar seemed to follow her. On looking back she saw that the wall of water had swept away all that was built on the banks of the river which flowed through her village. As a dragon, it continued on its way. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she was feeling restless. When she saw that she was in her own house she had some solace. Sita got up slowly and walked to the waterpot, poured some in a tumbler, and drank it. Still not feeling calm she lay down on the bed again and pulled up her blanket. Slowly her eyes drooped and she fell asleep again. Sita lived in a small village in the Himalayas. Her family consisted of her father, mother, and two brothers. Her elder brother 14 years old and a younger one 6 years of age, she was 10 years. Next to the modest house was some land owned by her father who tilled and harvested it for a living. When she got up in the morning she still had an uneasy feeling. She walked up to her mother and told her about the dream and the feeling that something untoward was about to happen. Her mother laughed at her, “ What was it, a nightmare?” Feeling offended she kept quiet. But the uneasiness stayed with her. The feeling of doom would not leave her. She kept on thinking about it and the fear did not recede. After having had breakfast of flatbread, and having had a bath she got out of the house with her umbrella. In the distance saw her father working in the field. Sita, wearing her favorite pink dress, walked towards her father and thought that at least he would believe her as she was his favorite and he knew that she never lied. When she told him about her dream and her premonition he picked her up in his lap and told her not to worry. He pushed her curly hair out of her face, “It is the rainy season, therefore some water flow will increase as it happens every year. But the dam constructed further upstream will hold most of it.” Kissing her on the cheek he put her down and asked her to go play and stop worrying.” Sita was adamant as the feeling of imminent washout continued. When her brothers heard her, they started teasing her. “ Here comes the Goddess, she knows everything, past, present, and future. Now she is going to forecast the calamities.” To get away from the trolling she went to the temple and after praying to God to keep everyone safe, she confided to the priest. Having heard her he said “ You should believe that God will take care, so don’t be anxious. Nothing like a deluge has happened here so far and nothing ever will. Have faith.” Every 15 minutes she would go to check on the river to see if water had risen. After having lunch she again went out of the house. Her mother wondered what has happened to her. She called her elder son to keep an eye on her. Sita walked up to the village community center where she saw all the village elders sitting and smoking hookah or local cigarettes called bidis. She wished them with folded hands and bowing down told them about her premonition. Looking at her beautiful innocent face which was looking anxious they decide to put her doubts at rest. They said “ when the dam was constructed upstream the government had done a detailed survey and all the safety precautions were taken. There is nothing to worry about. You are still very young for such thoughts. Go and have fun with your friends. ” The vision of which had formed in her mind did not go away. In the evening she again went to see the river but there was no change. Her brother went to look for her and found her sitting on a rock at the bank. He said “ we are all worried about you and here you are sitting calmly. Get up and come home Maa is worried, even father is at home.” He pulled her up and dragged her home. Unmindful of pebbles on the way hurting her bare feet she allowed herself to be taken home. The crease on her forehead did not smoothen. Having had some dinner she was told by her mother to relax and sleep and think good thoughts forgetting the nightmare of the previous night. Sita lay down on her cot. Having been tired from roaming around the village the whole day, she slept quickly. At midnight her nightmare seemed to be repeating itself. There was a roar and the sound of water gurgling from afar. It sounded like a loud thunder or an earthquake that shook her house. She got up with a start. There was some commotion in the house her mother was waking up her brothers shouting at them to run. In the light of a small lamp, her father was frantically tying up whatever he considered precious. The sound kept on coming near. Sita was also asked to go out and run. Her premonition seemed to be coming true. Outside she saw the wall of water coming fast at her. She ran with all her might following her subconscious mind. She didn’t know how or when the water picked her up and deposited her on a tree. She hung on to it for her life. As the day dawned it found her wet soaked to skin and shivering on the sturdy branch of a tree. The water around her had receded leaving destruction in its wake. Hardly any living thing was visible. The dam had breached releasing tons of water of death in its wake.


My name is Rook and according to my human mommy I‘m the most adorable and courageous kitten in the whole wide world. That must be true since I have never seen another kitten like me before. Mommy often asks me how I manage to be so cute, but I myself don’t know how I do it. I guess it just comes to me naturally. Every time I walk towards her and start purring she practically beams with happiness. She lifts me up to cuddle and kiss me and she always tells me how much she loves me. Every day she makes sure I know how much she cares about me and loves me so I never have to doubt that. It is a nice feeling to be loved so much, even though sometimes she overdoes it a bit with the cuddles. I can’t just stay still forever, can I? That would not befit a courageous, fierce kitten such as I. There are always moments where I make up for it though. When I am tired I don’t mind all the pets and cuddles so much. Then I can let her take her time and she seems to appreciate that immensely. I am such a generous kitten. ***The kitty and the roaring monster:*** Some days a big, bad monster comes to life inside my home. Normally it sits completely silent and motionless in the living room. But once in a while it suddenly starts roaring and moving across the floor, sucking in everything in its wake. It is very dangerous and gives even me, the most courageous kitty of all, a bit of a fright sometimes. The monster has a really long nose through which it sucks in the stuff on the floor. Its body is big and fearsome, making much noise and it has a long, black tail, which is stuck into the wall. When the monster roams the room, I try my best to show it (from as far away as possible) that I am the more dangerous predator. I go the furthers corner of the room and fluff up my tail and show my claws. Naturally I do this so that it knows that it would be dangerous for it to approach me and certainly not out of fear or something like that. I am a courageous kitty after all. Fear should be afraid of me and not the other way round. Once the monster becomes silent and motionless again, I carefully approach it after a while. Safety is important after all, even for such a dangerous predator like me. After making completely sure that it no longer moves, I climb on top of its body to demonstrate my dominance over it. Just so it really knows who‘s boss. When I do this my mommy always praises me for conquering the beast so bravely so I must be doing it right. I let her pet me for a bit, but not too long of course, and head towards my favourite napping spot. It has a really soft and fluffy blanket and is right by the window. I curl up, having finished my tough work of the day, and take a well-deserved nap, knowing that I have conquered the monster and defended my home from all dangers. How befitting for my title of most courageous kitty in the whole wide world. ***The kitty and the mystery of the disappearing prey:*** I am a super dangerous predator. So of course I regularly have to chase and catch prey. One of my favorite preys is a little blue mouse. It has a really long grey tail that is wound around a stick. I simply love chasing after that mouse. Sometimes it moves super fast and I have a very hard time catching it. During those times I watch for a while and wait for the right moment to pounce. The right timing is very important. I see the mouse go by and know exactly where it will go next. There, the right moment has come. Target locked and pounce. I got it. Once I catch the mouse in my claws it struggles a lot. But that is ok. Even if I lose my grip the chase simply begins again. It is super fun. There is just one prey I can never seem to catch. A mysterious prey that only appears when my mommy is lying under a blanket and that always suddenly disappears without a trace once she gets up. Blankets are dangerous business. Whatever is under there always seems to appear around where my mommy‘s feet should be. I am sure it is trying to attack and grab her feet. Therefore, as the most courageous kitty in the world it is my duty to defend her. So whenever something starts moving under the blanket I immediately start pouncing on it. I bite it and try grabbing it with my claws, so it knows that it should leave my mommy‘s feet alone. My mommy always starts squeaking when I do that, but I am sure that is only because the thing under the blanket is trying to attack her. She tries to save me by grabbing me and dragging me away from the prey, but as a brave kitty I will not be discouraged from my duty. No prey shall escape me. So many times I was sure I almost had it. Yet in the end I can never seem to catch this mysterious prey. Some day though I am sure I will finally be able to best it. Just you wait.