"Dipé!" The army stood up in unison. "Dilo ni movimentae!" The deafening sound of thousands of soldiers set in motion shook the earth beneath their feet. The small garrison destined to defend the hill looked with horror as their enemy, who outnumbered them by a wide margin, left their camp and prepared to fight once more. Both factions had met in past occasions, and the hill was always successfully defended. This time, however, was different. As problems at home called, only a reduced number of troops led by their captain, Justanantiam, were left behind, under the promise that more reinforcements would arrive soon. Throughout the morning and part of the afternoon, the battle raged. When their enemy charged against them, the garrison backed down to take cover behind the rocks, where it was easier for them to seek defense. But despite the strategies employed, the numerical advantage of the invading army had begun to take more and more lives from the defending garrison, and after several hours of fighting without ceded land, both captains called for an honorable ceasefire. "We will be annihilated before the reinforcements arrive." said an injured soldier to his captain, Justanantiam, who had already been contemplating that possibility. Justanantiam then came up with an idea; he grew up in the area and knew it perfectly, so it wouldn't suppose him a problem to sneak into the camp of his enemy, Teatacus, at night. He did so, but as soon as he appeared, the guards apprehended him and he was brought before their leader himself. Both characters couldn't be more disparate; Teatacus easily doubled Justanantiam in size and his presence was intimidating to say the least. "You are very daring to come here alone" The giant boomed. "I went out to stretch my legs and got lost" Justanantiam replied, with a dim, sarcastic smile. Teatacus knew that his rival had come looking for any possible weakness that could be used against him. But he was confident in his strength and subsequent victory the following day. So he skipped the interrogation and instead, invited Justanantiam for a walk under the stars. The captain didn't miss the opportunity to chatter about his colossal army, about how he had never been defeated in a melee combat in his life, how his rivals saw him with deep respect and fear. Teatacus spoke and spoke, blind to the fact that his rival was no longer walking beside him. "Teatacus, look ahead!" Justanantiam exclaimed from behind. Teatacus stopped immediately and saw an enormous spider emerge before him. Fortunately, the creature did not detect the captains, and returned again to its previous hunting position, hidden in the tall grass. Teatacus turned slowly toward Justanantiam, having closely experienced death for the first time in his life. "That spider was underground" said Teatacus, convinced that it would have been impossible not to have seen it had it not. "No, captain" Justanantiam refuted incredulous. "It was just in front of you." The captains undertook the return to their respective camps. Before leaving, Teatacus suggested his rival to withdraw from the battlefield and that if he did so, he and his garrison would be spared. To which Justanantiam responded only by cocking an antenna. But Teatacus did not intend to have mercy on any soldier, not after suffering the humiliation of being saved by his own enemy. He went to sleep and ordered his men to wake him up early in the morning. The next day, the powerful army marched up the hill, with Teatacus leading, ready to end the battle quickly. "The land is fertile, it will be a worthy acquisition." The captain thought to himself. On the other side, the garrison troops were just beginning to assemble, in complete silence, haunted by the high and low battle cries that the rival army used to demoralize them. Justanantiam positioned himself at the head of his troops contemplating his colossal rival, and he knew exactly who would stand victorious. Both sides collided violently. Teatacus was in the element he liked the most, painting the soil with the entrails of his enemies. At one point, Justanantiam calls for a withdrawal, and his troops descend the hill in disarray. "I didn't expect more from you, Justanantiam!" The mighty captain roared as he ordered his men to charge against their enemy, who was fleeing downhill, into the tall grass. Teatacus felt, rather than saw, the stake going through his torax. When he looked back to check the wound, he saw his own soldiers, also impaled. Once again, Teatacus had failed to see the danger before him. He could not see the stakes positioned under the tall grass. Nor could he see the rest of the garrison, who waited patiently for the false withdrawal to strike a surprise attack on those who avoided the stakes. And of course, he also couldn't see how the previous night, Justanantiam discovered an important flaw about his enemy. Teatacus collapsed on the ground, feeling his life passing. Before he died, he saw Justanantiam approaching him in the midst of the battle. "In your infinite arrogance, you failed to see the spider." Justanantiam said, extracting the stake from his rival's shivering body. "Even when it was right in front of you.


In retrospect, I really did not think that she would have become such a huge part of my life. I don't know why it happened but all I can say is that I'm glad it did. It's funny how the littlest things tend to have the biggest impact on our lives. I've noticed how as time goes on, people never tend to separate the significant moments from the insignificant. But to me, and to her, we were the most significant people in each other's lives. It started in eight grade, I was so intimidated by everything. School hasn't exactly been a “safe” place for me to sort of speak. I was intimated by the people, the teachers, the environment, the work, I just picked at everything and it ate me alive. The kids in the school sucked, their ideologies, attitudes, and stereotypical mindsets sucked even more. But aside from that I wasn't exactly a social butterfly, considering my social anxiety and lack of will to hold a conversation with the opposite gender. I wasn't the best looking girl in the grade either, and I knew that. It made me insecure. I hated the way I looked and hated the idea that in order for me to talk to someone, they had to look at me. I was sitting at a table full of kids I had never met before. I knew of them, but I didn't think they knew me. How could they? I was practically invisible, and anybody paying attention to me must've been short a couple screws. For the first day of school, everyone around me was unnecessarily loud. It didn't make sense to me, how people were able to form connections and relationships so quickly. I felt awkward, it made me feel bad, like I wasn't completing the assignment or something. Our homeroom teacher gave us ten minutes to get to know our peers. God I hated the first few weeks of school, icebreakers, and cliche games. Could this get any worse? I had gone an entire day without speaking to anyone, I walked alone in the hallway, sat alone at lunch, and went through all my classes without a single interaction. That day I went home and I cried, I hated it here. I didn't want to go back and experience another day of that. On the bus ride back home I was talking to myself in my head going over how horrible my day was. I was good at that. I had always been that way, forcing myself to be there for me because who else would do it. I kept telling myself that things would get better, and that I just needed to hold on a little longer. There she was sitting across from me one chair to the left the next morning. She was so pretty, it always bothered how she didnt see what I saw. She had everything a girl could want. A pretty face, a nice body, brains, and even an amazing personality. Me on the other hand? I'm not even sure I compared to her in a dip. But I guess she saw something in me because this was the beginning of our forever. I can't remember what class it was that we were in. She said my name, and introduced herself. I was shocked, I didn't even know how to respond. I smiled, and told her my name as well. I couldn't tell if she was talking to me out of pity or genuine interest. But whatever it was, I was so grateful that she interrupted my mind dwelling because I had begun digging myself into a dark subconscious pitiful hole. I had already convinced myself that I would be spending the rest of my year alone, sad, and depressed. The bell rang, and class was over. It was time for lunch Oh joy I thought to myself. Hey wait up! I stopped in my tracks to see who was screaming. It was her, it was Lina. Desi if you want, you could come sit with us at lunch. She glanced over to her friends, motioning to Trevor, Mia, Charlotte, Xenia, and Joy. I couldn't come up with any possible answer for why she would ever consider asking me to sit with them considering she had already acquainted herself with a decent group. After all that's happened over the past couple of years, it seemed as if these memories ceased to exist. I had forgotten how we met, and how our friendship began considering the events that followed after. Eventually I had gotten really close with the entire friend group. They were really nice to me, and as it turned out we all shared similar interests, hobbies, music taste, and ideas. But you know how it goes, friend groups in middle school and high school never truly last. Lina and I had been through a couple of friend groups as time progressed. We did everything together and we were there for each other through thick and thin. And I mean THIN. Including the late night drunken facetime calls, the early morning meltdowns, the fights over out stupid ex’s, the many mental breakdowns, the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. She taught me things and I taught her things. We shared many laughs together along with many tears. I had never been so grateful to go through so many friend groups with one person. That includes freshman, sophomore, and junior year of high school. I ended up getting really close with her family as she did with mine. They say that in your lifetime you'd be looking to find your other half, and I was convinced she was mine. She understood me so well to a point where all I had to do was give her one look and she knew it was on my mind. There was no one else I'd rather be scream-laughing with on the phone at 5 am on a summer morning or crying with after getting my heart stomped on... AGAIN. I don't know where I’d be without her today, we grew together as people, and are better versions of ourselves today because of each other. So this is for you Lina. Thank you for coming into my life and making me who I am today.


The lanterns flickered their malevolent flames as Sugar beat the eggs into a foamy sea. The fire in the grate melted her aching muscles enough to continue working for the eleventh hour. Twenty-six years old and she was already exhausted, pink dress twirling between kitchen counters and cupboards. Her petticoats protected her modesty and the pencil holding her savory colored hair protected the food from contamination. She'd baked enough bread, on to the biscuits. 'You work too hard...' Bailey chimed as he grabbed his jacket to leave. '...You'll miss the entire season at this rate.' Sugar shrugged half-heartedly, looking up from her whisking. Bailey's lean and hungry stare, eyeing the mountain of scones, made her heart melt. She stopped to pack some into a hamper with an assortment of jams, freehand waving off his refusal. 'Fruit and nut, cranberry to boot...' She smiled. '...Will soon provide the ultimate lute.' Bailey concluded, having heard the phrase a million times. 'Enjoy the feast. See you bright and early tomorrow morning.' Another smile and the wicker basket exchanged hands. 'You're a marvel, Miss Plum. Thanks to you we'll have a Christmas turkey this year.' Bailey's mind floated back to the many Christmas' his family had spent without even a sprout. Thanks to Miss Sugar Plum's generosity, they'd finally have a decent spread. 'We won't have a crumble next year if we don't defeat Miss Green at the Festival tomorrow.' Sugar muttered, returning to her biscuits. The image of her rival appeared in Sugar's mind's eye. The licorice hair, known by Sugar's memory to lie below Miss Green's hips, was always tied back in an obnoxiously tight bun. Sugar's train of thought jolted to the chocolate chips on the counter. The same color as Miss Green's harsh eyes, she thought. She smacked the dough and rolled her eyes, making similarities between the rolling pin and Miss Green's wooden posture. 'It's a shame, Miss...' Bailey interrupted. Her eyes refocused, 'What is?' '... That we can't team up with Ever Green. Join forces, then there'd be no need for a competition.' Sugar scoffed at the suggestion, not impolitely, but as if to say that the idea was unimaginable. 'I've tried to make her see sense. We used to be such good friends, now she can't even look at me. A civilized conversation would be a miracle.' She sighed, hands falling limp around the dough. 'Some friendships aren't meant to be.' Bailey sympathized, perching on the whittled stool by Sugar's station. He felt a sudden sense of Deja-vu, remembering a similar conversation he'd had with his daughter only a few nights prior. Sadly, he couldn't offer the same warm hugs and hot cocoa to his employer. Lost in thought, she shaped her biscuits into hearts, then mumbled, 'Why? How can friendships end without a reason?' 'Everyone has their reasons.' Sugar softened, 'Yes, well, I wish people would explain their reasons. They may be foolish.' 'They often are.' A thoughtful silence loomed over the bakery for what felt like a lifetime. 'Pop these in the larder before you leave?' She smiled, removing her apron. Bailey began packing away without question until he spotted the tiny Sugar Plum cakes by the window. 'What about these?' He wondered why they'd never sold them, given his employer's name it seemed like a missed opportunity. 'No, no, those are... not for sale.' And he didn't question it further. Sugar took the cakes as she ascended the stairs to her small apartment, cradling them like a child. 'See you tomorrow, Miss Plum.' He called up gently. He didn't expect a reply, one never came, but he closed the door behind him a little softer than he would normally. The cold hit Bailey like a ton of bricks, snow dusting his cheeks as he pulled his jacket tight. The only warmth coming from the lanterns lighting his way as he crossed the cobbled street. He looked back, peering up to see Miss Plum, sat in her bedroom's bay window, reading a book. She looked fine, he concluded, and made the rest of the journey home. ~~ Miss Plum, though she looked okay, didn't feel it. She looked down at the only gift she'd ever been given, a journal of pressed flowers. Sugar flicked through. There were many blank pages to fill towards the back of the book. The full pages were decorated so beautifully. Lilac sprigs with lavender ribbons, roses, and forget-me-nots, wrinkled primrose by her favorite sunflowers. Each page held a different memory. When she reached the last full-page, she huffed. And as if on cue, the knock at the door downstairs came. Sugar ran as fast as her tiny feet would allow, almost tripping over the last step. Her toe would surely bruise by morning, she thought. Hastily, she pulled the door open, hearing the bell chime above the frame. As always, there was no-one there. The streets were empty, except for the sprinkle of snow and a whistle of the wind. 'Fudge!' Sugar cursed. She'd run faster than she had in previous years. She'd have to stay downstairs next year to hopefully greet the mystery gift giver. And speaking of gifts, Sugar looked down at her feet to see the unsurprising box, staring up at her. Wrapped in gold paper and tied with a black satin ribbon. The package, as usual, was immaculately done. She felt bad pulling it apart. Inside the box sat a new addition to her journal. 'Dahlias?' Sugar felt a chord strike her heart, a shiver run up her spine that wasn't from the cold, as she'd shut the door. 'A fond farewell or forever yours?' she mused. Sugar took the present to her room, placing it amongst the other dried flowers. With a heavy heart, she ate her Sugar Plum cakes and drifted into a deep sleep. Her imagination conjuring up happier days, spent in sunny meadows, running through flowery fields. ~~ The ceremonial trumpets signaled the coming morning and Sugar shot out of bed. Her alarm hadn't gone off. She smoothed the pages of the journal that had somehow managed to get squashed in her sleep and in haste, threw it into her bag. It took only a moment for her to chuck on her usual pink dress and twizzle up her hair, a few strands escaping to frame her face as they normally did later in the day. The biscuits still needed baking, she stressed, bustling down the stairs to the kitchen, wary of the final step and her bruised toe. To her surprise, Sugar instantly inhaled the familiar aroma of baked goods. The biscuits were already in the oven. Bailey, true to his word, had arrived bright and early. 'Thank the stars!' ~~ The wooden huts glistened in the Town Square, shining with warm lights and twinkling glitters. The same stalls of assorted produce, ready for customers to scour and for judges to judge. It had all been the same for as long as anyone could remember. Sugar arrived a little later than intended and instantly noticed something was different. Opposite Sugar Plum's soft pink hut would normally be Mr. Chestnuts Toy Emporium, a sunny yellow stand with touches of pastel blue. But Mr. Chestnut was nowhere to be seen and his stall had been replaced by an elegant black and gold design. It didn't take Sugar too long to figure out who it belonged to. 'Miss?' Bailey, holding armfuls of bread, came to stand beside her, wondering what could have stopped the woman in her tracks. 'Miss Green's stand is opposite ours, Bailey.' Sugar stared. 'What?' He turned, 'That doesn't make any sense! We're normally on opposite sides of the square.' She looked equally as puzzled. 'I'll go speak to Marsh, surely there's been a misunderstanding. Would you mind taking care of things here?' 'Of course.' ~~ Marsh was easy to find. Center stage in the heart of the Town Square was his domain. Sugar smiled up at her friend as he tested the microphones. He was on and off faster than the flick of a switch. He too looked like he'd missed his alarm that morning. As she was about to approach him, someone came from the opposite direction and intercepted him first. Someone she'd hoped not to run into yet. Sugar hid back, clutching her bag and checking her journal was still in there. She edged closer to listen. 'Mr. Mallow! Might I speak with you?' Ever Green in her high-neck black dress and tight bun marched up to the plump rosy man with fury in her eyes. 'Miss Green, how lovely to see you. You look so... smart.' When Ever didn't respond to the reluctant complement, Marsh continued, 'What is the problem this year?' He hoped to keep the exchange short and sweet. The festival was supposed to be a happy day. 'You know darn well what the problem is. You've put my stand opposite Pips.' Sugar's heart clenched at the name. She'd not heard it in so long. 'I'm not in charge of any of that this year, Miss Green. You'll need to take it up with my supervisor.' Marsh caught eyes with the Reindeer Dance Troupe. 'Must dash, much to organize.' And he was gone. Ever glared furiously, her hands balled, and her eyes squinted after the man. She could burn a city to the ground with that scowl, Sugar thought, just as the woman in question turned and almost bumped into her. 'Ever! What a surprise!' She stammered, unable to look away from the strong eye contact she was receiving. 'Miss Plum, it seems that our stands are opposite one and other.' 'Yes... so it does.' Sugar frowned at the use of her surname. She loathed the formality, the cold shoulder, the hardened expression on Ever's face. She looked nothing like the woman Sugar had known all those years ago. Ever used to be so carefree. It was hard to imagine now, seeing her so wrapped in her cocoon of sternness. 'Well... may the best baker win.' Ever eluded, offering her hand. Sugar stared at it dubiously. It felt like a trick, but she took the gloved palm even so and replied, 'May the best baker win.' ~~ Sugar returned to the stall and filled Bailey in on the exchange. 'We'll beat Green easily, Miss.' She smiled, admiring her companion's competitive nature, especially since she felt so unmotivated herself. Ever so easily got under her skin. 'What's happening over there?' Bailey said. She glanced over the street at the rival stand. It was thriving. Curiosity killed the cat, Sugar tried to remind herself, but when regular customers seemed to bypass them in favor of the dark side, she couldn't help being coaxed. Bailey followed, surprised to see the rare mysterious smile on Ever's face as she handed out orders. Sugar looked over the display with intrigue. What could be drawing her customers away? Salted caramel cookies, dark chocolate truffles, lava cakes, and assorted tarts but nothing out of the ordinary. Sugar couldn't fathom what was so special about Ever's stand, until she saw them, sat prettily in the center. Her face drained of all color, her heart dropped, and she felt tears prickling behind her eyes. The anger built in her chest and exploded. 'Ever Green!' The shout caught Bailey by surprise, for he'd never heard Sugar raise her voice above a sweet scolding. The customers around them froze and Ever's eyes did a double-take in her direction. Sugar felt years of suppressed emotions taking over, her next words escaping in the form of a child-like sob. 'How could you?' Fearing the tears that were about to fall, she turned away and retreated to her stand. Bailey followed swiftly behind. 'What's wrong?' He pressed when they were safely in their haven. Sugar's eyes, blinded by unshed tears, managed to grab hold of her bag. She pulled the journal from it, planning to destroy each page, rip them up, scrunch them into balls, burn them in the fire, she didn't care anymore. She managed to open the cover when gloved hands took hold of hers and closed the book once more. Light eyes met dark and Bailey took it as his queue to leave the kitchen. The tears finally spilled over the edge and she repeated, 'How could you?' 'How could I what?' Ever's hands were firm, searching for eye contact as they always did. 'You're selling our Sugar Plum cake!' Sugar blurted. Ever didn't respond, just stared at her blankly, so Sugar continued, 'You stop talking to me, for no reason I might add. No explanation and on the Eve of our first Festival together. We were supposed to be partners, friends, Ever! And you just left! You left and now you're selling the one thing we promised never to share with anyone? Why?' Ever frowned, cheeks burning red, 'Oh, don't come off all high and mighty, you know exactly why I stopped talking to you, Pip!' Sugar's tears suddenly halted. She stared at Ever, her brows knitted, jaw dropped. 'No, Ever, I do not.' Realization suddenly dawned on them; the air thickened. Ever seemed to retreat into herself, eyeing the door. Sugar gripped her hands in a tight vice. 'Please, don't leave... Just talk to me.' Sugar pulled her closer, noticing the way Ever's hardened exterior seemed to give in to the gesture. 'I came to the bakery that night to drop off your present...' She began, glancing down at the book before continuing, 'And I overheard you talking to Mr. Mallow.' Sugar thought back to that night, growing even more confused. Nothing bad had been said, not that she could remember. They'd had one too many glasses of sherry, that's all she recalled. Ever continued, 'Mr. Mallow asked you about me, and you told him I was just your friend as you always do and I suppose, well I thought I meant more to you than that... or I hoped... It was silly...' Ever confessed, trying to fight back her tears of frustration. '... I then overheard Mr. Mallow telling you how he felt about you, how much he cared for you and I realized that night... you and I weren't on the same page. I decided to distance myself. Every time I saw you, it was a reminder of how I felt and how you'd never feel. Being cold with you was far easier than being kind.' Sugar dumbfoundedly exhaled, 'How could you possibly know how I felt if you never thought to ask me?' The expression on Ever's face dropped rather comically to one of complete perplexity and confusion. 'Marsh was never and is never going to be interested in me like that, Ever. He came over that night to thank me for setting him up with my cousin. Sadly, it only lasted the week, but truly he and I are just... friends.' The final word hung heavy in the air. Ever had clung onto every syllable and seemed to drift into another world entirely, overanalyzing her memory to recall exactly what she'd heard that night. Sugar decided to change the subject, 'Why did you decide to open your own bakery?' 'It's the only thing I knew how to do.' 'You couldn't have opened a florist?' She laughed, looking down at the book in their hands. She turned to the most recent page, the Dahlias. 'I kept everything, that should tell you enough.' The knock on the door bursts their bubble. Bailey apologetically stuck his head through the door, 'I'm so sorry, Miss but the Judges are here.' And he left again as quickly as he entered. 'You work too hard.' Ever softened. 'Yes, I have been told.' She smiled. 'Go on, I have some Sugar Plum cakes to remove from the stand. We'll talk afterward.' Sugar glanced at Ever's reassuring smile and noticed the flickers of doubt peeking through. The assertive arch in her brow was returning and Sugar decided that she couldn't let her leave without making sure they were on the same page, quite literally. The Dahlias sat prettily, she looked down at them and mumbled, 'A fond farewell or forever yours...' Ever looked up, feeling a tightness in her chest. Sugar only smiled, squeezing the hand she still held. 'I have loved you for as long as I can remember.' Sugar confessed, resting her forehead against Ever's, she felt her heart hammering in her throat. In the next sentence, she whispered, 'How long will you love me?' There was no pause, no delay, no hesitation. 'For Ever, Sugar.'


A 20 year old magician named Alyssa, was walking offstage after a show. She was feeling electric after an astounding performance. Alyssa decided to celebrate with a couple of friends. They were going to a local establishment that featured live music and tempting alcohol. Alyssa and her friends were barely underage and couldn't buy drinks. They decided to pay a homeless gentleman to do it while they moved like typical white girls on the dance floor. Around midnight everything about them became slurred. At 3:37 in the morning, they hailed a cab to take them back to their apartment. Six minutes into the ride, the driver lost focus and the vehicle drifted into oncoming traffic. The car went head-on with a moving truck. Alyssa only saw a white flash, then darkness. She awoke in a hospital bed with tubes connected to her. She would later learn the cab driver was killed, but her friends were perfectly fine. She was released one week later and returned home. Twelve years later. At 32, Alyssa was married at this point, had earned her doctorate in medical science, and even had a kid. She was blissfully happy with her life, and hadn't any regrets. One night, while her husband and son were out, she decided to see a movie. She lived in the city so she did not own a car herself. After flagging down a taxi she got in the backseat. Without looking at him, she told the driver, "Local cinema please." The taxi took off. The driver accelerated the vehicle at too high a speed and Alyssa took notice. She screamed for him to stop the car. But all he said was, "It's time for you to go back." Just as the car slammed into a semi, her life flashed before her eyes. She remembered the birth of her child. The first time she met her husband. Even her first kiss. Every milestone of her life was relived in a split second. And then... Her eyes opened. All Alyssa saw was a white ceiling and only heard a continuous beep. Friends and family surrounded her hospital bed, and gasps filled the room as she sat up. Joy was felt by them as their daughter and friend had finally awoke after her long slumber. Alyssa noticed her friends looked younger, and she herself felt younger too. She asked, "Where is my son, and husband?" But she had neither. She was an unmarried, 20 year old magician who had just lived 12 years in one month.


Fear is all around me. I see it everywhere I go. I can't stop the fear. The fear is consuming me. I know why this is happening to me. I know why I have so much fear. I think someone is listening and watching me. It all began six months ago. I was at the park sitting on my favorite bench reading my book when I felt someone, a stranger watching me. I looked around the park but I saw nobody. I was feeling nervous and scared throughout the rest of the day and into the night. Not long after I swear I heard breathing noises at the end of my phone call with my best friend. Someone was listening to my phone call. I told Joanna about the breathing. She told me it was all in my head. I know I heard breathing. I know someone was listening to my conversation. For six months I've been afraid to go out but I managed. I always look at my surroundings. I look at the people around me to make sure I'm safe. I constantly take pictures of everything and everyone. I have to know if someone is watching me. I never used to be a fearful person. I usually don't scare easily but yet I fear someone wants to hurt me. I have never felt this way before. This fear is making me live in a bubble. I hate living this way. I hate that my friends and family think I'm crazy. Joanna, my parents and sister tell me I'm doing this to get attention, that I'm making this up. They make fun of me all the time. I cry every day because I'm all alone. I cry because the people that matter to me don't believe me. I'm all alone in the world. I thought someone would help me. I was wrong. I can't trust no one. It's just me and my fear. There has to be something I could do to identify the person who is watching me. The big question. Who would want to hurt me? I have no enemies. Unknown My dear Winter. My lovely Winter. My only Winter. I see you every day hiding from me. Why are you hiding from me? I want to see your beautiful face. I want to see your beautiful green eyes and your long dark hair. I miss seeing you, Winter. I miss hearing your voice. Your beautiful sweet voice. I will tell you this my beautiful Winter, I will see you again. Until we meet one day my love. Today another day of staying in my bubble. I tried to go out. I really did but once again my fear has consumed me. This is driving me crazy. I have no one to talk to. I can't go out because I'm afraid of the stranger that is watching me. I can't pick up my phone and call my friends or family because they will make fun of me. I'm afraid the stranger is listening to my phone calls. How can I live like this? I can't live like this. I have to go out. I have to breathe the fresh air. I have to be strong. I'm pacing back and forth thinking about what to do. Should I go out or shouldn't I? Come on Winter you can do this. I look out of my window and see the world passing me by. My world has stopped. After hours of debate. After a sleepless night, I have decided to go out once again. You can do this Winter. I can do this. Breathe in and out. I jump out of bed, take a shower and get dressed. I have decide to go to one of my favorite places, the zoo. Okay, I'm finished getting ready. I place my hand on the door knob. You can do this Winter. Here I go. I turn the knob and open the door. I stick my head out. No one is in the hall. I put my hoodie on, lock my door and begin to walk. I walk to the stairway exit, quickly walk down the stairs and out the door. Wow the air feels so good. It's a cool sunny day. I do the usual look both ways. When I see no one is watching me, I begin to walk to the bus stop. The thing about people is that they are clever and sneaky. Even thought I see no one watching me doesn't mean said person is not out there watching me. I made it to the bus stop. The bus is coming. My stomach is turning. My heart is beating fast. I hop on the bus. The bus takes off. I look at the people on the bus. Nothing suspicious. Nothing out of the ordinary. I find an empty seat in the back of the bus. I try not to think about a stranger watching me let alone listening to my phone calls. I want to today to be a happy day for me. So, today is going to be for me and not my fear. I smile when the bus stops in front of the zoo entrance. Myself and a bunch of people most of them with kids get off. I walk to the ticket booth and buy a ticket. As I'm walking, I feel that all too familiar sense of being watched. I turn around and look behind me. All I see is smiling faces of the kids and their parents. Come on Winter. Remember what you said. This day is all about me. I walk up to the first animal, the lions. These creatures are beautiful. I stay there for five minutes watching them. As I leave the lion's den, I look to the left and right. When I notice no one is watching me, I walk to the next animal, the Giraffes. Another beautiful animal. So graceful in every way. This is why I loving seeing these animals. They are strong, protective creatures. I continue walking throughout the zoo watching the animals all the while feeling someone is watching me. As usual no one is there. I go to the petting zoo. My favorite thing to do at the zoo. I buy the food and go feed the baby goats. They are so cute. I bend down and open my hands. I smile as the baby goats eats. My first smile in a long time. Unknown My beautiful Winter. Your smile is beautiful. I just want to go to you grab you and take you away , far away from here. Don't be afraid my beautiful Winter. I won't hurt you. I only want to love you. Until we meet. After a long day at the zoo, I leave back to the bus stop. All day at the zoo, I sensed someone watching me. There are no feelings anymore. I know for a fact someone is watching me. While I was feeding the baby goat, I slightly turned around and saw a figure in a black hoodie watching me. I did not recognize the person nor did I know if the person was a man or woman. The person didn't know I saw him/her. I left at once. My fears came true. Someone is out to get me. I hop on the bus. I don't see the person anywhere but it doesn't mean that person doesn't know where I live. Oh My God! what if the person has been inside my house and planted cameras and listening bugs. I have to leave my house. I get off at my stop, rush home, pack my belongings. I don't call my friends and family, they won't understand. I have to disappear. I have to leave and go someplace where no one knows me and where the stranger can't find me. My fear is taking me away from everything I know. It's what I must do to survive and keep the stranger from finding me.


The first thing you do is butter the bun. Then you drop it down the toaster. The toaster takes approximately eighteen seconds to toast. You then put the top and bottom together, place them on a red tray and then cover the twelve buns that fit on the tray, 4x3, with another tray and place them to the side. Once you are ready to make the sandwich you place two pickles on the bottom, no more than a quarter inch over lapping. Then you place the chicken filet with the smooth, round side facing up and then place the crown of the bun on top. Finally open up the sandwich bag allowing enough room for the sandwich to easily slide in, then fold the bag over twice and place it in the warming drawer for five minutes. Any sandwich that sits there for longer than five minutes gets trashed. If you would like a deluxe sandwich then place either a slice of American, provolone, or pepper jack cheese on top of the filet, then put two, whole, tomato slices on top of the cheese and two pieces of lettuce, shiny side up, that frame the bun on top of the tomatoes. Then repeat until your soul has been crushed, pissed on, and every dream and fire that has ever existed in you has been stomped out by the ceaseless, monotonous work you subject yourself to in order to not even get by. They, being the people who don’t work with you, will remind you that you chose to be there, just be thankful to have a job, or that it is just temporary. You know that isn’t true though. You can’t find a better job because you are working 50 hours a week and you are too tired to do anything else. You can barely even find the energy or will power to get out of bed in the morning. Every once in a while you feel like you have enough energy and fortitude to say enough is enough and move on but then you realize your life revolves around this job. All of your friends are there. They are the people that deal with all of the shitty customers who think they are the Queen of god damn England, the ones who think they own you because you stand behind a register. Your coworkers are the ones that after all the shit you put up with tell to forget the customer, he is an asshole, you didn’t do anything wrong, people like that just happen. You have a bond with your coworkers, like brother in arms who are united by their common misery. So the cycle repeats, week after week after week after week after week after week as if your days are manufactured on an assembly line. Then you find yourself waking up in the tiny room you call an apartment. You shower and head to work and start your day off like you have the past, seemingly, five thousand days. You clock in, take your slip that shows the time you clocked in and put it your wallet. Then you say high to everyone. Then you either go to the kitchen or the front counter depending on what you are assigned that day. Then you spend the next ten hours slaving away like the robot you are. You listen to the exact same orders, make the exact same food and you have the exact same routine to live by. Then you watch your boss drive up in his new, gas guzzling behemoth of a truck and say “Hi!” to everyone as if he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. It is as if he has no idea what the people he employs put up with on a daily basis. It is as if he hopes his friendly disposition will be contagious but what does he do besides sit in that office of his in the back while you are the one who gets burned at the fryers and the one who has to choose if it is worth turning the heat on at night. You are the one that has to decide whether or not to fix your car or just walk the five miles or so. The one who should just deal with the tooth ache or dish out the three thousand dollars for a root canal because god forbid giving his employees health insurance would just decimate his profits. No one likes the boss. Between the shitty boss, shitty job, and shitty house and lifestyle what can you find to be joyous about? You are simply a tiny little speck. In fact you aren’t even speck in the scheme of things. You are less than a pixel, you are less than even the red, blue, and green lights that make up a pixel. You are nonexistent and utterly replaceable and no one will notice if you go. Just like no one has noticed the billions of stars that have existed and perished and no one ever will. Just like no one ever notices the trillions of bacteria that are beneath our feet. That is what you amount to. At some point we have all been there. The thing is though that not all of us end there. That is the saving grace. There is a glimmer of a hope that one day you can escape the cycle of the daily grind. Get a degree if you are young enough, have a support system while you find a better job, or maybe you are stronger than most and do it all alone. Not everyone is lucky though. Sometimes the grind wears you down and grinds you to you are so thin that you become a part of the walls there. You are an everlasting stone that will be a part of where you are stuck, just like the walls. Bills add up and sooner than you know it you are living out on the streets and left with nothing but free time. Maybe you cope with a steady dose of drugs. Maybe you cope with a healthier method. Either way it leads to the same thing. If you aren’t apart of the club, the haves, then you better get used to meaningless, mindless tasks that ask nothing of you but obedience. The boss, the haves, will tell you that working at these crummy soul devouring jobs is fine. What would they know about what you do though? It is not a matter of them being any less hard working but it is a matter of having something to show for it. If you work at a restaurant and you can’t even afford to eat there they pay you so little then what is the point? It gets to the point where thinking physically hurts. It breaks you just as bad as your job does. You think of all the things that you gave up, that you let slip by and you think never again will I let that happen, but it is too late. You have already buttered the buns. You have dropped them in the toaster. You have placed them on the tray. Put the two pickles on the bun, then the filet, and then the top part of the bun. You have wrapped the sandwich and placed it in the warming drawer until you throw it up for the next customer to devour or for it to get thrown away because it has been the warmer to long and has grown hard and unpleasant and unwanted.


The Farne Islands are black places. Most places in the North Sea are. From their black cliffs a small fishing boat travels precariously between the rocks in the local harbour to Inner Farne on the near horizon. Around the boat, little black specs tornado in unison, their wings silhouetted against a thick sky. The boat eventually finds it’s mooring and a woman comes into view, her long blond plait falls from under two hats pulled low to her face. A seal breaks the water to watch the newcomer, buoyed in the angry water like it’s riding a wave machine at a kid’s amusement park. They lock eyes for a moment and the seal gets bored. The woman empties the boat carefully of food rations and equipment, though obviously not enough for a long stay. She stops and looks longingly at the boat for a moment, leaving a box of wires and a phone still in the dingy. Without hesitation she unwraps the rope keeping the boat moored and sets it free unpiloted. The sea takes it slowly at first, as if checking she means to let it go on purpose. The rope slips away and her only way of escape disappears quickly and vanishes to the black. The seal reappears looking visibly confused. Her job to be done is simple but important. Bird flu ripped through the local population on the small island, meaning no puffin, shag, turn or razorbill was safe. They had no respite from the disease, no technology to turn to for help. She felt she owed it to them; an exchange for her life where money could, and had, bought an easy life. The wind on the Island grabs jealously she walks up to the tower at the top of the black cliff edge. She’s never been inside but has seen the tower many times from the shore, it’s weather worn stones have seen Vikings, Christians, chavs, but yet it remains just so. Her hands begin to unpack rations whilst her mind is still with Max and Alex and Nicky in the city. Home comforts were gone; no cashmere, no Instagram. Only sheepskin rugs from the Northumberland mainland offer any respite; the smell of salt and smoke holds deep into the woven tapestry of the place. On one side of the room sits a desk, it’s screens and monitors and radios cast an unnatural blue hue over the ancient stonework. At it’s side lays what appears to be two sunbeds from circa 1994. They wait with their silvery lids open wide, invitingly clean and ready for use. Where a head would go protrudes a large metal probe, along with a selection of other needles and cables which attach messily to the desk close by. She rubs the back of her head. A screwed metal disc aches at the curve of her skull, not used to the severe North Sea cold. As if in response, all the metal plug points on her body itch in unison. Never again will this body be plugged in to charge, to repair, to reset. She shuts the lids on the life support machines so as not to tempt her. The wind rages but she takes the opportunity to begin her daily tasks. Outside the front door to the tower a sign reads ‘ONLY STEP ON THE BOARD WALK, CHECK FOR CHICKS’ and she imagines someone shouting it in her face. It is a black place as they said it was. Everything is hard. The rock, the water, the wind. It hurts. But this is what she wants, to repent for a life led with too much good fortune. She walks from one end of the small island to the other. Puffins come and go, their beaks filled with sand eels. Silver scales catch the sun which furiously tries to push through the heavy cloud. Against the patchwork of lichen and heather they flash their red beaks to each other like morse code. She still feels sick from the journey. In normal circumstances she would have changed bodies long before the sickness kicked in. It would have simply been put on charge until the system calmed down, she had plenty of spares at home. Her stomach sends out a stabbing pain in response. She ponders what people must have done hundreds of years ago when the tower was built; they must have had some medicinal remedies otherwise the whole population would have been wiped out. After a week on the island, the chores are second nature. Today she counts the puffin burrows to monitor this year’s breeding pairs. The work is manual but not too taxing for a fairly new body of which she is glad she still has. The sick feeling remains and hums deep in her body. Before she gets back to the tower for the evening she doubles over and vomits into the wind. Orange lumps fly out over the black cliffs, illuminated against an angry sky. She had never known anyone to be sick, no one had, not since the turn of the century when people still had to endure the frail bodies they were born with. They were taught this stuff in school, how disease was rampant back then but it became irrelevant when technology and Mindscaping were invented. With the ability to move your mind freely from one body to the next, the need to cure disease vanished, modern medicinal products were literally never created. You just discarded the sick like a Primark jumper gone wrong in the wash. She remembered the first exotic body she was bought as a youngster. She had decided on an overnight whim to become a ballerina, so her parents had shipped a model in from Russia. It was exquisite, it's porcelain skin was almost see though and bent in ways her other bodies could never manage. Unfortunately, it's feet got mangled and was quickly donated to a family in another town, no point in fixing. A storm rolls in from the North Sea and the sky quickly changes colour. She knows the drill and quickly pulls the few items gathered outside into the tower and bolts the main door. The kettle wines against the howl outside. She finds her mind slipping in the dark, taking her across the water to Max and Alex and Nicky. She cannot remember how old they are, she can barely remember how old she is, but she imagines them at home, drinking expensive wine and eating cheese. Nicky has a svelte body which she only uses on such occasions. The wine goes too quickly though, and she will sneak off mid evening to change models whilst the first has it’s stomach pumped from the alcohol poisoning. The storm outside continues to rage, dark and unruly. Mindscaping meant no one had any repercussions to anything. Sometimes Alex would fight his brother and they’d end up needing new bodies three times a week, hurting her pocket but nothing more. It was a hollow life. Built on an ease that comes only through no hard work, no effort, no strife. They would stay young forever, never experience the pain of loss, of suffering, of heartache. She closes her eyes and sleep takes her, eyes glued together by salt. On day 22 she wakes and washes. Her skin is starting to visibly grey but her mind is clearing. She begins another day of counting burrows. A puffin couple closest to the front door of the tower have been named Victoria and Albert, yet she tries to not get attached. Last week she found a puffin chick dead outside it’s burrow and spent the entire day crafting a burial for him as the wind whipped at her face not allowing any tears. As she read the sermon to the sea, a family of puffins perched on the lighthouse wall in silent prayer. She walks back having found eight burrows empty when they weren't the day before and falls through the board walk that needs repairing. Her ankle looks wrong and she screams into the wind as pain moves up her leg. She crouches down and lets her body crumple into the acute feeling. Once, her and her friends had snuck into her father's study to try on his models. She slipped into one he had used when he was in the army a long time ago. It was like eating power. Everything moved so easily, it had so much inbuilt skill it scared her. Her ankle bites back in retort. Every day she cries. Everyday something dies. It is an emotional battle filled with more highs and lows than she’s cumulatively felt in her long existance. Every day she closes her eyes at night, exhausted by the mental effort of living this somewhat simple life. She begins to acknowledge that the island is black, but the kind of black that is deep and never ending and alive. On day 31 Victoria and Albert's chicks fledge. She watches them from the doorstep of the tower and cries loudly. Her pride for them fills the island. Across thousands of miles, across land and sea and everything in between, these birds find each other every year and will do for their entire lives. Every year they continue to fight for each other, no matter the pain. Her body is slower now as she bends with difficulty to check the burrows across the island. She knew this body had cancer. She had come to the logical end of the road with it and with the shallow life she’d lived until these sweet moments. Out to the deep depths of the North Sea a white sailing ship peaks through the distant horizon, bathed in what seems like warm light from above. A few seconds later the moment is gone. She smiles. After a time, she walks back to the tower and puts the kettle on to boil. She closes her eyes.


I hate my life. Everyday I come back to the cabin and I’m reminded of how everything went wrong. I look at all of the framed pictures of a life that I left behind, and I’m tempted to end it all. The face of my beautiful dead wife, Sarah, paints my walls like a fractured memory that still burns every time I see it. She went missing a year ago, and the feds called it off after a month. I was angry, I was hurt, and I was scared to continue on without her. She always loved taking strolls through the forests that surround our cabin, and since she’s been gone, every day I feel the urge to walk into the woods and not return. Every day I tell myself no, but today I felt as if something was pushing me into the forest. I fear for tomorrow. I don’t know what I was thinking, walking through the brush and tall grasses that litter the forest floor. I was still in my formal clothes from work, so my khakis started fraying at the leg and my loafers began to get caked in dirt and soil. My tie now had a large rip in the bottom after getting caught in a rose branch. Sarah would be so angry, seeing me this dirty. I had been walking for at least an hour. I don’t know what was pulling me to continue delving deeper into the wood, but something had a strong grip on my psyche. I felt that I wasn’t in control of my own body as I pushed on through the foliage. I stopped to take a deep breath. The smell of rain filled the air as dark grey storm clouds crept across the sky, tainting the bright magnificent blue with an ugly, depressing silver. I listened as the crack of thunder boomed loudly from a distance, which immediately followed with a sparse pattering of raindrops on my head. I knew the storm would only grow worse as the night grew on, and yet, I continued walking. What am I looking for, Sarah? I thought to myself. Is this you pushing me forward from beyond the grave? Are you my guardian angel, keeping me far away from our house so I don’t end my life? Do you simply wish to show me something? Something that will somehow give my life meaning and make me want to stay alive? You know I don’t believe in symbolism. You know that was always my least favorite part of English class. So why then? I spoke aloud to her. I said, “why am I still here, Sarah?” I knew I wouldn’t get an answer, but I still yet felt disappointed when she didn’t reply. I continued walking. My legs grew tired and lifeless, and I was beginning to itch in the back of my throat. I needed water. The rain was still scarcely dripping down from the sky at that point, so I wouldn’t have been able to find a substantially sized puddle anywhere. I listened for the sound of a rushing river, or perhaps I would see a deer rush toward a pond somewhere. I checked the leaves that dangled from the oak trees surrounding me to see if any of them would offer even a palmful of sustenance. The leaves crinkled to dust as I touched them. I continued walking. I lost track of time, but at this point the rain had completely stopped. The sun was still hidden behind large tufts of cumulonimbus. The wind blew harsh cold that had the strength of a fully grown man. It took my tie and my glasses with it as it passed. My stomach growled fiercely with every other step. My spine tingled and sent waves of goosebumps down my arms and legs. Maybe I could find some berries on a bush? I wouldn’t even know if they were poisonous or not. I wasn’t even sure if it would be dark soon, I left my watch at the cabin, and I’d be damned if I was going to try and find my way back there. I continued walking. The night sky eventually exposed itself, but the black and grey twirls of clouds remained, covering a majority of the stars that dotted the sky. The moon itself was hidden behind a cloud, leaving only a shred of light amongst the darkness. I found a log that I figured would be good enough to use as a pillow as I gathered a plethora of leaves to use as a shoddy makeshift blanket. I knew I wouldn’t be warm through the night, but at least I’d have something resembling a bed. I scraped my head against the log to somewhat make myself comfortable, which decidedly was a fool’s errand. I looked up at the night sky, the stars that were partially visible gave me enough hope to continue walking the next morning. I awoke the next morning with a stiff neck and back. With a few good twists I popped and cracked all the way down my spine and along my neck. Strangely, I awoke with no more itch in my throat and no more growl in my stomach. Unless I walked while I slept and somehow found a four course meal with water and wine, I knew that something strange had to have happened that night. “Sarah?” I said out loud. “Did you take care of me last night?” The limbs and the leaves of the trees rustled in the wind and the cumulonimbus clouds parted to reveal the sun. A single ray of light cast down from the sky and through the many branches onto a single spot on the ground in front of me. I made my way to the spot on the ground and looked up at the sky. “Sarah?” I asked again. “Do you want me over here?” The tree limbs rustled in the wind again. “Is something buried here? Do you want me to start digging?” The branches rustled. I knew it was her. I got on my hands and knees and clawed at the earth. I was usually a bit of a prude when it came to dirt underneath my fingernails, but the determination to dig was overwhelming. I dug and I dug and I dug until the tips of my fingers were numb and bleeding and it seemed like I would never leave fingerprints again. When the hole was seemingly deep enough, I grabbed a branch that I deemed large enough to use as a makeshift shovel and stabbed it into the ground. I worked diligently as I chipped and chiseled away at the soil that Sarah asked me to dig into. I was terrified, yet I was excited to see what I might find buried. My worst nightmares came true as I finally discovered what was underneath my feet. A pink, flowery dress, covered in old dried blood that wafted a pungent rotten smell into my nose. Then, beneath the dress laid a skull. It was only the top half, but there was an unmistakable hole that splintered into cracks throughout the right side. “Sarah...is this you? Are you buried here...?” The breeze rustled the branches. “Sarah...did someone do this to you...?” The branches rustled once more.


My family. A strange bunch they were. They all had the personality of the colour beige though they did have their small colourful times but they were only seen about once a year. I was lucky to experience it twice if they felt generous. But they spent most of their time being selfish and mean. I never found a liking to anything they did, they always irritated me in the slightest way possible. And no I'm not going to blame it on my short temper because they knew how short tempered I was and did everything they could to aggravate me. And succeeded every damn time! No matter what I tried I wouldn't have been able to stop their behaviour. They were superior to me! Because of them I’ve been short tempered since the age of 4 and would blow up if I found something remotely the slightest irritable. My eldest brother took away my comfort teddy once and held it above his head and laughed when I couldn’t reach it no matter how hard I jumped. The worst part was that he got my other brothers to laugh and mock me. Gosh it sucks being the only girl in the house! I even tried asking one of the boys for help but they just kept making fun of how small I am, telling me to “Jump froggy” and i’d be lying if i said it didn’t get under my skin. I’ve always been the smallest of the six of us and if they were to comment on something to me it’d always be my height. I was adamant I’d be moved out by 15 because I couldn’t stand the boys. I didn’t go with my plan exactly. I moved at 16 with my best friend. Living with her was and still is so much better than living with my annoying brothers! When it comes to family gatherings I’d always be sat by my second eldest brother who didn’t really get on with me as stable as the others did and that really displeased me more each time. This was because he’d always put something in my drink or put food on my chair to sit in when I got back from the loo causing the whole table to erupt in laughter but my mother who gave them an eye roll with a smile. She tried her best to get the boys to leave me alone but she didn’t try hard enough. They continued to do it even when we had guests over. At least they found it funny though right? The echoes of their laughter rang through the halls as I sat in the living room or bathroom just to get away from them. My father and I always had a rocky relationship. He had extremely high expectations of me and they grew as I got older. It wasn’t fair on me, because I had a lot of other things to do such as extra curricular clubs, cheer practice and writing my books. When I try to explain to him that I cannot spend hours doing schoolwork because I have other things I need to do he would just tell me to manage my time or just to cut out writing my books because they aren’t important. Whatever! My books are just as important to me as my cheer practice and grades and I won’t give them up for his satisfaction! My mother and I had an on and off relationship. One day she will be all nice to me then another day she will be agreeing with my father and brothers on how I need to buck up my ideas and focus on what's important. They make no sense and it really bothers me how they contradict themselves. Though after being away from them for quite a few years I can say I’ve missed them irritating me a bit. Living with my best friend has been a bit bland. She wasn’t as adventurous as I was after we left school. I mean, yeah I was still in the same ways as I was when I was in school but I’ve lessened on them and I’ve gone out more and explored my surroundings, She on the other hand was quite boring. I kind of missed my brothers making fun of me for my height, my mother laughing at me when I walked into the doors, my father down my ear telling me how important my work is. I missed my home. Now that I look back on it, I have found joy in everything they did with me. Besides me being really short tempered of course. But they also had indirect lessons. My brothers taught me not to take any rubbish from anyone, my father taught me that working hard will always do me good and will open many doors for me in the future and my mother taught me that a maternal love will last forever even underneath all the arguments. I was ready to visit home and welcome them all back into my life after not having any form of communication with them for 9 years out of spite and frustration. I’m normally not one to hold a grudge against anyone but my family felt different. All the things they’ve done for me I have found an appreciation for because without them I wouldn’t be a strong woman who doesn’t listen to people's judgements and criticisms. Without them constantly patronising me from a child to the age of 16 I'd probably still be a weak little girl who takes everything to heart. Without my father constantly reminding me to constantly perfect my grades I probably would be one of those girls who just sponge off their fathers. Not anymore. I’ve become grateful for everything they’ve done though it still has the irritation factor. But I’m going to thank them and tell them that I appreciate everything they’ve done. A new found appreciation for my family that I had high doubts of developing.


Marianne stood in the center of the large elevator, heavily vibrating as it spend down. The blonde, former noblewoman wore a dress uniform. Casual for her standards, but more on the fancier side amongst the renegades who called the orbital base home. The elevator was designed with the intention of carrying squadrons of fully armored space marines, causing the large metal tube to feel empty with the single, normal human occupant. The sudden stop nearly knocked Marianne to the ground. The door slowly opened, and after adjusting herself, she passed through the door. The fallen noble wandered into the bar, the dark room filled with humans, astartes, mutants, and xenos. All of which the knight pilot would have happily slaughtered mere weeks ago. To her left was the bar proper, tended by a mechanical creature with spider-like legs and metal tendrils spawn from its back. These tendrils poured bottles of multi-colored drinks for a group of five space marines, still wearing their armor. They seemed to be celebrating something, a successful mission most likely. To her right was a stage, with a catwalk leading to a pole. A scantily-clad woman had three, pale arms and a multiple of black spikes across her body. Despite her mutations, the crowd of cultist and traitor guardsmen was loving her show. Marianne was even having trouble looking away, though she didn’t know if she was actually enjoying the dancer’s performance, or that she was just attracted to the sweet smelling musk emitting from her. Despite these distractions, Marianne’s goal was the door on the other end of the room. The door being blocked by the large, green reptilian. “What do you want?” The lizard hissed. The bodyguard was as tall as a space marine, and their armor resembled that of modified space marine power armor. “I’m here to see Zax.” Marianne answered with authority. “Zaxss is busssy, come back later.” “Wait a second Vivi.” A woman wearing a black and gold robe stepped in between the human and the lizard. She had light brown fur covering her body and a pair of curved black horns emerging from her head. Her face was covered in a golden silk face mask, with a single, blue eye in the center of it. “Mari’s with me.” The reptile’s eyes lit up as they stepped aside. “Of course. Zax will be back in a few minutesss, so make yourselvesss comfortable.” Marianne opened the door and entered. Before the furry woman could follow, the lizard placed a clawed hand on her shoulder. “Makes sssure your human behavesss.” “I always do.” She said. “By the way Vivi, did you sharpen your claws? They look like they can disembowel an ork.” “You alwaysss know how to make a girl blusssh Vera. Get in there.” The two found themselves inside of an office. An office designed for a space marine. The desk rose to Marianne’s chin, and the three leather chairs were gigantic. Vera climbed into one of the chairs, which was a struggle on it’s own, and sat down. Her hooved feet barely hung over the chair’s edge, and she could’ve fit two more Veras in the chair with her. “Glad I caught ya.” “I had it.” Marianne said defensively. “You had it.” Vera said mockingly. “Whatever. Just tell me what this Zax guy is like.” “Big.” “I got that.” Marianne angrily replied as she struggled into her chair. "Give me a personality." "Diplomatic, for a space marine. Zax acts as the middleman between mercenaries and employers for the sector, so he's used to talking with all sorts of people." "And what kind of people are we talking about?" "Chaos warbands, eldar corsairs, ork freebooters, rogue traders, the more tolerant members of the inquisition, we aren't picky." Marianne couldn't have hidden her shocked expression even if she tried. "Did you think we were some chaotic cult?" Vera asked, her mask hiding her sly smile. "You're a beastmen." "And you're a knight of the God-Emperor, what of it?" Marianne readied herself to argue about semantics, but her mind was blank. "Not all renegades and mutants are chaos worshippers." Vera smiled. “And those of us who are can still be businessmen.” The door slid open, and in walked a space marine. His armor was black, with dark green pauldrons. On these pauldrons was the symbol of a white dragon head hastily painted over with a red X. In his massive hand was a black helmet with a single hole in the brow. This hole was for the single boney horn on the marine's pale white head. He walked past the two, past the desk, and into the large chair, perfectly fitted for him. "Vera, Vera's friend." "Marianne." "Hello Marianne. I am Zax, your middle man for the immediate future. Your mutant friend has told me only good things about you, but I do wonder how you two met?" Marianne sighed. "It's... complicated." "We're sisters." Vera blurted out. Zax laughed, his deep voice echoing throughout the small office. “Knight, despite your sister’s lackadaisical attitude, she is feral beast on the field of battle.” Marianne did not respond, for she was well aware of Vera’s skills in combat. “She told me you are worst.” "I am an honorable knight." Marianne shot back, her voice filled with venom. "Than why are you seeking work with pirates?" “It’s... complicated.” She paused to think. “Let me guess. An overzealous inquisitor decided you were a heretic with little to no evidence.” "No." Marianne said under her breath, glancing towards her sister. "Let's just say that I'm not a traitor to the Imperium, officially." "Interesting." Zax grinned. "How about we make it official, and in a big way." "What do you have in mind." "I got three jobs for you. First, the Blood Pact is looking for knights to raid a forge world." Marianne turned to Vera. "You're on your own with that one." She said. "The Pact doesn't like me." "Ok, what else." "We got some drukari raiding a knight world for slaves, and you'll even get a cut of the slaves." "The dark eldar aren't a good choice for a newbie." Marianne sighed. "Last one." "The last job is actually from some other renegades. A system are asking for help in becoming independent from the Imperium. The Amaterasu System from what it says." "I don't know anything about the Amaterasu System actually." Vera quietly whispered. "I do." Marianne said. "It's the under the watch of the Dark Blades space marine chapter. I guess their going rogue." "Sounds fun, but what's the pay." Zax ruffled through his papers. "Those who assist in removing Imperial forces from the system will be recognized as citizens of of the Amaterasu System, and will have full permission to live and operate within the System, as well as full respirations for lost personnel, equipment, and resources." "We need a place to stay," Vera said, "but it's your call Mari." "A good way to declare to the galaxy that we don't bow to the Imperium. We'll do that one." "Good, good. Do you have need transport to the system?" Zax asked. "No need." Marianne said, standing up and leaving. "Thanks Zax." Vera said, following her sister. The warp jumped to the system took about three hours, and the two spent most of it in silence. Marianne and Vera sat in the cockpits of their respective knights. "Soooo." Vera hummed, her voice echoing across the knight's vox system. "Is your new electroscourge ready?" Marianne looked down to her knight's left arm, or where one would be. The tall, black and red mechanical suit didn't have a left arm, instead of three metal tendrils. "I'd rather have my claw." "Sorry about that." Vera said, raising her knight's blue and black arm, ending in a claw. "But, look on the bright side! Your knight is called Blazing Scourge, it has an electroscourge." "INCOMING MESSAGE." Beeped, interrupting Vera. "Play it." "Thank you for accepting our call for help." A staticy voice played. "I am Cya, personal serf to Chapter Master Hiro." The image on the feed was a hooded figure, the only visible part of her face was a pair of purple eyes that glowed in the dark. "What's the situation?" Marianne demanded. "During the formation of the Great Rift, the Amaterasu System was cut off from the Greater Imperium as well as Imperium Nihilus. Thankful, the system has been designed to be self-sufficient. However, due to our isolation, we did some actions that the eleclisarchy would declare heretical." "Like what?" Vera asked. "Accepting aid from xenos and granting equal rights to abhumans." Vera noticed that the serf's head was oddly shaped under the hood. Almost like she has horns. "What are we dealing what?" "A single fleet consisting of two battleships, five cruisers, and six squadrons of escorts. We can confirm that the fleet contains no astartes presence, but can confirm the presence of knights of House Raven as well as three Cadian regiments." "Feth." Vera swore. "And who are we fighting alongside of?" "Local PDF and mechanicus forces, the Knights of House Ronin, the Dark Blades chapter, alongside numerous mercenary forces. We currently hold the gas giant Tsukuyomi, and the orbiting moons of Kage, a knight world, the forge world Fojishiti, agri world Kin no Machi, the hive world of Yami no Machi, the fortress monastery Yuro no Yosai. The coordinates your ship is going to is for the fortress world of Kichi. It is currently in imperial hands, but we are currently attack the world right now. Any aid will be appreciated." "Yes mam." "Got it boss." "Arigatō." Cya bowed, before disappearing from the feed. "Ready to fight the Imperium?" Vera asked with a nervous smile. "Too late to turn back now." Marianne answered, her voice shaky. "WE ARE APPROACHING OUR DESTINATION." "We are going to die." Vera laughed. Marianne ignored her. "Let's do this." "ENTERING REAL SPACE." Marianne took a deep breath. "APPROACHING PLANET." Marianne's vision began to fade in and out. "PREPARE TO DROP." "My favorite part." Vera laughed. The floor beneath the feet of the two knights opened. The two knights, alongside a number of smaller armigers dropped from the ship. As they fell to the battlefield, the knights could see various forces charging a fort's wall. Marianne's sight continued to fade. "Battle calls." She whispered. A voice, not her own, but familiar, echoes through her mind. "Bring me blood, bring me skulls, bring me battle." When her sight returned, Marianne was standing in the center of a destroyed building. Her knight was soaked in blood, and laying in front of her was the bodies of multiple guardsmen, each and every one of them decapitated. "Great job Mari." Vera said, patting her sister's knight on the back with her claw. "They're falling back." "Th-th-that's great to hear." She mumbled. "Welcome to the life of a merc. It doesn't get any better." Vera said, half-jokingly. Marianne could not reply. All she could do is whisper to herself. "I am a honorable knight. I am a honorable knight. I am a honorable knight. I am-" "Hungry for battle! Bring me more!" A small grin creeped onto her face. "Blood for the Blood God." She said under her breath, her eyes narrowing on her sister. Her trance was broken by incoming missile fire. Her knight's void shield block most of the damage, but the ringing in her ears did drown out the voices. "I won't betray my sister. Not for the Emperor, and certainly not to you." "I do not care for where the blood flows, just that it flows." "I will make it flow. Oh I will make it flow." Marianne whispered as she barreled towards the retreating enemy, her face a mixture of rage and zen.


I didn’t think much of him the first time I passed him and gave him the leftovers of my egg and bacon sandwich. Five months later, I sat down next to him and pulled out a cigarette. "Want one?' I asked him. He nodded and took it from me. I took another and placed it in my lips while fumbling for the lighter I'd bummed from the convenience store. People walked past us, wrinkling their noses and staying a safe distance away. Last time I took a bath was last week in the park. It was getting colder now that winter was coming. “I got kicked out,” I said, pulling my hood up and rubbing my hands between my knees. He grunted in reply. “That so?” “He found out about my boyfriend. I left my diary out.” He chuckled and smoked a long one. “That fucker.” I started crying. The tears mingled with the dirt on my hands, streaking over the calluses like ugly brown worms. I no longer looked at myself in the mirror but today I had seen myself briefly in a donut shop window. My hair was matted and brown, and I had dark circles from months of bad sleep. Police uniforms haunted my nightmares when I slept under bridges that smelt of piss. Two nights ago a man had offered me $5 to suck his dick. Then he’d offered me $10 to let him suck mine. “Why’d the old man give you the boot?” the old man asked, between puffs of smoke. I wiped the snot from my face. ‘“Why? Because he thinks I sinned, that’s why. Because of his stupid fucking God.” “Ah,” the man said. “God is a cocksucker.” He laughed again. “Indeed he is. I’m sorry.” I laughed too now. “Why are you sorry?” “I fucked up,” he said. “I fucked up and created a whole bunch of contradictions and I fucked you guys all up because of my selfish desires.” He said that, ‘contradictions’, like he used the word every day and it surprised me enough I stopped crying. I looked sideways at him, sitting against the piss-smelling brick wall near the trash bins at the back of Lucky’s with me, and realized I’d never seen how blue his eyes were. Like while passing him walking home from high school I’d always noticed his straggly Einstein hair and dark, swarthy skin but he’d never been looking up. Now though that I was sitting level with him I could see his eyes under his black beanie and they were bright blue. “Son, let me tell you a story,” he said. “Once there was a star, and it began to grow. It grew and became more powerful and intelligent until it began to get lonely and bored. When it did it decided it would make more copies of stars like itself and so it did. But those copies were imperfect and therefore all flawed. They made stupid decisions and lived short, ephemeral lives. Over time that original star lost hope of true friendship with another star like itself and became apathetic. But it could never die, being the beginning of all, and doomed to live beyond all.” “So what did it do?” I asked. “It just sat and watched everything go by,” he said. “And it waited.” He turned and pressed something into my hand. Then he stood up and walked away. I opened my hand. In it was a calling card.


The man who lived down the street, just six houses from us always wore a disappointed look on his face, halloween trick or treating was never fun as he always used to make us run off w/o as much as a dumb raisin. The neighbourhood kids hated him for that very reason, and I was no exception. I wondered often, what could he possibly own that made him so arrogant, so proud, so much so that even socialising with kids was beneath him? As I grew up, it turned out that adults were no exception either. This once I recall, all the adults of the society were to gather around for a meeting to review the rules and regulations of the society, everyone but the man who went by the name of Mr Steadler was in attendance. Noticing his absence, a triplet of the committee members was sent to his house to inquire why couldn't make it to the meet. Being the socialising wizard he was, he wasted no time in belittling the very existence of the committee and the clinginess of the members to get to his house uninvited, invading his personal space, and not letting him be.I remember asking my mom about Mr Steadler and why he was always in such a bad mood, and why he never talked to anyone, adult or child. To my disappointment, my mother had no answer either. It turned out, nobody in the neighbourhood knew anything about Mr Steadler apart from his address, his limping walk, and his charming personality. Being as curious as I was, I made it my mission to unravel the mystery that was Mr Steadler. I began by noticing Mr Steadler's routine for a week. Everyday he used to leave his house at 9 A.M. and return at 11 P.M. He never broke this pattern. At most he deviated for an hour or so but that could have very easily been the traffic holding him up. I also noted that between him leaving the house in the morning and entering it in the night, he never had so much as a grin on his face. I began to wonder if this guy ever really had a good day. He looked like he was about 45, maybe 46 years old, which made this even a sadder mystery to solve, to track the daily routine of a 46 year old man who never experienced a single day of happiness? It was getting depressing, even for a 15 year old. But I wasn't ready to give up just yet, I concluded that if I want to get to the bottom of this, I need to follow Mr Steadler around to know more about him. And so, upon the brink of Sunrise one Monday morning, my journey to become local detective had begun.I woke up early, freshened up quickly and waited anxiously on my bike for Mr Steadler to make a move on with his day. My parents weren't being very supportive of my actions, but like all heroes I knew that if I were to make it, I had to let go of them one day or the other.Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mr Steadler came out, locked the door behind him and drove off to wherever he used to drive off to. I followed him, maintaining quite a distance from him. With my helmet on, I was pretty sure it would be difficult for him to recognise me from this distance. I followed him to a mansion located just outside the city. It took us about 4 hours to reach there. Mr Steadler stepped out of his car and went inside the mansion while I stayed behind and set myself up at a nice vantage point with my pair of binoculars to give me a good view of what's happening inside the mansion through its windows. For the next 3 hours what I saw can only be called comedy in its truest form. I saw him cleaning the mansion from top to bottom while a guard kept poking him with a stick, saw him dance for, I'm assuming, the resident kids, saw him getting yelled at by possibly the owner of the mansion while he was on his knees. This was all too funny to miss. But then he did a very peculiar thing just before he left, he went to the adjacent garden, stood there for about 5 minutes and did the most abnormal thing he could possibly do - He smiled. Once he was done making a fool of himself, he got in his car and went off. I assumed we're off to our home and so I got on my bike and followed him from the same distance as before. But I was wrong. He made a turn I didn't recognise. I kept following him for another 90 minutes until we reached a graveyard. This took a dark turn real quick for me. I thought maybe Mr Steadler had spot me and now to protect his image he would take care of me here in the graveyard and dispose off my body in one of the graves. All sorts of horrible thoughts were circling in my head now, how he could use a stick, a hammer, or a jack to knock him unconscious, maybe rape me before killing me whole and then leave my naked body in a hole to rot for eternity? I wanted to run away but then I noticed him getting out of the car, standing at the gate of the cemetery and start crying. He wasn't here to kill me, he was here to grieve. But for whom?As he went inside, I closed in the distance so as to come within earshot of what he was about to say. I finally understood the importance of gravestones at that very moment. He went near a grave which I couldn't make out clearly of whom it belonged to, but I didn't care, all I wanted to do was listen. And so I did. What I heard next brought tears to my eyes. "Hey momma, I'm back. It's been 2530 days since you left. I know I say it every time I come here but I just don't know how to begin talking to you without saying how much everything changed since you left. The mansion in which we used to live in was taken over by dad, he kicked us all out and started his own family, completely abandoning us. Talia fell in love with a guy with connections to the underworld and lost her life to a don who enslaved her for 3 years. When she could no longer live with herself, she cut herself in the middle of a night and those monsters, instead of covering up her body and performing a proper funeral, left her naked cut body to rot in the streets for days until someone found it because of its foul smell. It took some time to identify her but when the media did, it broke me. To see my sister go through that filled me with rage and left me feeling so powerless because there was nothing I could do against these people. After some time had passed since Talia, I met this girl Alice in whom I found comfort. I confided in her and she embraced me with open arms. We went out for a couple of weeks before finding out she was already married to the same don responsible for Talia's murder. Thanks to our similar facial features, it wasn't hard for him to figure out who I was. As soon as he found out, he had me abducted from a fair I was attending and had me in front of a gun's barrel. He gave me two options, either die on the spot or live another day as one of his servants. I don't know why I chose the latter for the former would mean dying once but the latter would be to die everyday. Every single day he makes me clean his massive mansion with a small tooth brush. Everyday I fail to finish even a single floor for which he punishes me by making me stand in water filled with Piranhas. I have lost most of both my feet because of this, his wife, Alice yells at me horrible words just because I'm part Jewish, and keeps reminding me that me and my kind deserved the holocaust and what a whore my sister Talia was. It hurts more to know this is what she thinks of me now that we're over. To humiliate me further, the don would often fuck one of his sex slaves or his wife at times in front of me by tying my cock to a rope hung around a sensitive lever which would unleash the hounds on me should I get hard looking at them have a go at it. Once or twice an incident happened and I still have the scars all over my body. My life has gotten so sad that I'm afraid of making any friends whatsoever, I have to be rude to people, even kids all the time because I know that one little out for my emotions would mean a total breakdown for me, where I'd cry like a baby. Everyday before I leave that horrible mansion, I go over to their garden and smile that at least you guys are no longer here or you'd have it much worse than me. Heh, it's kind of ironic isn't it? Your death making me so sad while at the same time being a blessing. God, if there exists one, does work in mysterious ways, perhaps. I, anyway came here to tell you mom that, I'll be joining you soon. I want you to heat up whatever's leftover from last night because tomorrow I'm coming to you and Talia."Tomorrow he was going to his dead mother and sister? What did that mean? They're dead, how can he -Before I could finish processing that thought, I heard a cracker go off behind me. It was odd for a firecracker to go off at a cemetery. I sneaked a peek behind the gravestone I was hiding behind and saw Mr Steadler's skull all blown into several little pink pieces. The sound I heard wasn't of a firecracker... It was a gunshot.The gunshot had moved me, I didn't know what to do, all I knew was I had to get out of here otherwise it would be I who'd be in trouble. I made a run for my bike and cycled home as fast as I could. It was the longest journey I had ever embarked, from the cemetery to my place. All the events of the day kept going on repeat in my head. I reached home and went straight for a shower. I felt dirty, disgusted, and sad. I couldn't help but breakdown while in the shower. After a while it was difficult to tell how much of the liquid was actually water and how much were my tears. It's been 5 years since that one horrific night, nobody but me knows the tragic life that Mr. Steadler lead and now it's my burden to live out the rest of my days with that knowledge.


The man walked through the streets and thought about his life. All his life it had been a struggle. He had anxiety, struggled to find a job and keep it, had only had sex a little, and learned how to drive a car late. He did manage to make it, but barely. His parents telling him that he was a failure didn't help either. And although he did have happy times, sometimes it seemed to him that he was struggling to exist. He worked at an ordinary job living an ordinary life. As he walked along the road in the hot summer day he wondered about everything. There has to be more to life, he would tell himself sometimes. There has to be a meaning. He could not and would not be an Atheist. He didn't believe that the world and the Universe were that hopeless. He believed in something, but he didn't know what. None of the spiritualities of the world made since to him, so he believed n something else. There were times when the depression had kicked in, but it didn't last. This time though; this time felt like the end. The next day, he was walking on the road as cars drove by in both directions, The depression had come and it was not going to go away this time. He didn't care about life anymore. To him it seemed like am endless struggle. Nee had reached his end. The he saw something,. He turned to his left behind him. There was a man walking in his direction. It was an older man who wore a brown cloak. He stopped and waited as the man got closer to him. When the man had gotten pretty close, he stopped and looked up at him. Is jaw dropped as he was looking at the old man's face. He had white hair, a white beard, and three brown eyes. “Everything will be okay,” said the old man. “This is temporary and it has allowed yo to see things in a new way.” The other man was shocked and could not speak for a moment. Who was he talking to? Was he talking to God? The real God? “I...I...How is that?” he asked the figure. The old man's eyes glowed a bright blueish white light now. “Most people never think about these things. They are so caught up about daily life that they never stop and think about what is out there,” said the man. He reached over and touched the younger man's soldier, and the younger man saw a vision. He saw the atom, how the electrons moved around the nucleus because preset patterns., then gluons, how they were charged and held the physical world together. Then it was as if his vision zoomed out. He saw space. He saw the stars and their planets, and many different alien races. Hen he saw the galaxies. Everything had preset patterns and order. Life was across the Universe. And the one true God watched over all. For the first time in a while, a smile formed across his face.


10/23 The ship travel is rough with the seas angry fits and the siren's calls that keep me up at night. I've been sick much. But we shall make landfall within the next few days and then they'll leave me to do my work. Most excited. Miss my wife and children a little but honestly it is nice to be away and on an adventure. 10/27 First night on the beach. Built tent, fire, and cooked a fine meal as I watched the ship take to the sea again. Dark now and night animals have begun to sing. Looking forward to sleeping as the night lives around me. 10/31 It’s been an adjustment to be the sole human on an island full of exotic beasts. It's been humid and raining most of the day, a surprisingly nice relief from the tormenting sun. I made many notes and took many photos to document the various flora and fauna that grows here. At night I swear I hear voices and music but it's most likely either wishful thinking or carried from a distance on the Northeast wind. I'll be moving on from the beach tomorrow to head into the forest. 11/04 The forest provides much cover from the unpleasant weather, but it breeds many creepy crawler’s and makes me wish for the warm, dry sun cover of the beach. I haven't found a single undocumented animal yet, but I have faith that I will. It's amazing how a typically unsocial creature such as I is longing to listen to useless chatter or have a pointless polite conversation with a stranger. I thought last night I smelled spicy cooked meat and the smoke from a fire that was not my own... then it was gone. I'll dream of that meat while I finish my canned beans and curl up to sleep. 11/10 I found it! I found a spider that, after researching all my notes and books that I’ve brought with me, I cannot confirm has been discovered yet. I studied it in its natural habitat for days, took notes and photos, before I tapped the spider in formaldehyde to preserve it for future study. Can't wait to get back to civilization to see if this can be verified or not. Tonight, I dine on pork and beans with glee. 11/15 There's something in the darkness. I can hear it while I lay in my sleeping bag and try not to let the sounds make fear bloom in my heart. 11/19 I've moved deeper into the forest on my trek to the opposite side of the island. I believe I found what looks like remains of a treehouse or some sort of ancient shelter. This is disappointing to think someone else may have visited this place before, but I found no positive identifiers to who was here. I documented the evidence for further study and moved on. Tonight, I am making a small fire and camping overnight. But I'll be on the move again tomorrow at first light. 11/22 I fell into the river today. Think my ankle is fractured at least so I've bound it with a brace from my field kit and taken some pain relief. But my biggest issue is that I've lost my pack that had most of my food in it. So, for tonight, I'll dine on dried beef sticks and a single package of crackers. Hopefully, I can hunt or forage food. Maybe I’ll embrace the nature of man and live like a wild beast myself. 12/01 Starving is a real feeling these days. I am unable to make it as far through the woods as I had been because of my ankle. It's ugly, hot, and swollen. Perhaps, coming in here without help was a poor decision on my part. Running low on pretty much everything, including faith. 12/03 So hungry. Tired. and... sad. I may die here.... If that happens and someone finds this journal tell my wife and kids, I love them and wish them well in life. 12/04 I..........want to die and be done with this suffering. My head is dizzy. My time is gone. I'm going to lay down and let the darkness take me. ??/?? I'm in a prison of wood and rope but they've fed me, bathed me, and saved me for some reason. I'm not sure how long I’ve been here or where I even am. If I peek through the only window out of this place, I see shadows around a fire. They feed me through a slot and never speak when I ask my questions. Perhaps they mean to kill me or maybe they mean to keep me as I'd kept the poor spider. A novelty. An experiment. ??/?? There's a beautiful woman who saved me today. They'd dragged me out of the cage to cook me, if their fire was any indication, but she met my eyes and smiled. Her dark eyes were accented by the black line tattoos on her cheeks and her lush lips were pinkened from the berries she was eating. She sat with a huge man with similar features, and she wore crown made of flowers and thistles. When one of the beastly men went to hit me with a club, she stood and spoke a single word, quietly, before leaning down to whisper into the head honcho's ear. He then barked an order, and I was dragged back into this cage. Maybe 1/1 now? Who knows, anymore. They've moved me into a hut with the beautiful woman. She is patient with me since I don't understand her language but forceful enough for me to understand that I am hers to do with what she pleases... not that I'm complaining about most of that. 2/5 I watched them from the woods, hidden with the rest of the tribe, as they searched for my pack, tent, and clothes. I could have called out that I was here, and I was alive... but Ryvinna rubbed herself against me and I had zero desire to return to my life off this island. With the silence they’d been teaching me, we all snuck away from the search party and back to the safety of our village. 2/15 I married my new wife, Ryvinna, this afternoon by the fire surrounded by my new tribe. Her father officiated. I sometimes miss the life I'd left behind but it's hard to when I look at Ryvinna. 12/09 It's been a few years since I've written in this journal. Ryvinna is currently laboring for all to see as she brings our fourth prince or princess into the tribe. My father-in-law has passed away and now Ryvinna and I are the chiefs of the tribe. Maybe I should feel guilty for leaving my former wife and kids behind to stay here with Ryvinna... but I don't. According to the papers, I was pronounced dead, and they got a windfall from the insurance. My former wife re-married a senator and had another two kids. They’re fine as far as I can tell from here. And I get to spend my days studying the wildlife, ruling the tribe with a gorgeous wife who never turns me down and continues to give me beautiful babies, and live free of rules and law that are not of my own making. It's good to be king.