[This story includes gay romance.] The long black hand on the living room clock crawled, marking time as it marched past the minutes. Eddy didn’t think he’d ever seen it move this slow. Funny thing, though...hands on a clock in any of his classes seemed to race around when he took a test. He waited for the hand to set off chimes in the old grandfather clock, sitting sentry over the living room. Eddy knew it was safe to talk on the phone in here. Neither his mother nor father entered this room on any regular basis. The furniture here was formal, unfaded, and a bit stiff. But Eddy thought it was the neatest room in the house. It had the clock, for one thing, and a fireplace that was rarely lit. Despite all that, Eddy felt like ‘Lord of the Manor’ when he took a seat in the highbacked chair. It fit his body perfectly, and though he was nervous as hell right now, he felt safe, surrounded by the elegance of the room. Eddy felt like his enthusiasm would make him burst before the dulcet chimes, but when he thought he’d reached his limit, seven chimes struck the hour. Finally, it was time. His cell phone never seemed this heavy. Shaking hands scrolled through the contacts looking for Tom’s name. When he found it, he took a deep breath before hitting the green phone icon. “Hey! You called. I’m glad. I was afraid you’d lose your nerve.” Eddy tried to keep his voice even. “No, I didn’t lose anything. I just want to talk to someone who might understand me.” “Oh. It’s that bad for you?” “Well, last night, I came out to my parents. My father didn’t take it well at all.” “What did your mom do? Moms almost always know, you know.” “Really? I didn’t think my mom had a clue, but now that you say it, she didn’t seem surprised. She just wanted to know how I was doing, and my father kind of phased out of the conversation.” “Dads can be tough. So...you just needed another gay guy to talk to? I thought...” “Well, yeah, I needed someone who would understand this stuff, but I wanted to talk to you because I think you’re...” Eddy searched his thoughts for the right word. He couldn’t blow this. But how could he tell Tom how he felt without sounding too gushy? “I just wanted to talk to you because I, uh, like you.” Silence. Eddy sat in the awesome chair, but he didn’t feel like the Lord of the Manor anymore. He felt defeated, deflated, and embarrassed. “Tom?” Finally, a noise. It sounded like a sniffle. Is he crying? Eddy stared at the ground. Should he say something? Or would that make the situation worse? Should he offer words of comfort? Should he start crying in solidarity? Finally, Tom spoke in a blubbery voice. “This is all my fault.” Eddy felt confused. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand...your fault?” “All this crying and sniveling. I know you’re over there a bit freaked out, right? But, you see, I can’t believe it. You like me, and you admitted it. No one does that anymore. Everyone is so afraid that their feelings may be hurt, or they are too afraid to tie themselves down to one person. I’ve been lonely out here. The world is cold for most people, but for gay men who are looking for love and acceptance, well, it’s downright frigid. You have absolutely no idea how happy you’ve made me.” The large lump at the base of Eddy’s throat slipped like Tom just paved the way with honey. The tension in his shoulders eased away. He wasn’t tired or defeated anymore. Those feelings left, allowing joy and jubilation into his world. “I make you that happy?” "Why don't I come over? I think this is a conversation we need to have in person. Would your parents be cool if I showed up?" Eddy knew he wanted to see Tom and hold him close. "Well, dinner is over, and everyone's scattered through the house. I don't think it will be a problem. Just drive carefully 'cause I don't want anything to happen to you. You are way too important." Tom's sob answered those words and then, "I'll be there in about fifteen minutes." With a full heart, Eddy went to the kitchen to find something for him and Tom to munch on. ** When the doorbell rang, Eddy’s dad beat him to the door. “Who are you? And what do you want? We’re not buying anything if that’s what you're here for.” “No, sir. I’m here to see Eddy.” Eddy walked up behind his dad to greet Tom. He felt the scorn in his dad’s voice as he begrudgingly waved Tom in the door. Dad turned to yell for him, but when he saw Eddy, the shout shriveled in his throat. “Oh, you’re there. I guess you already know your ‘friend’ is here.” “Hi, Tom. Please come in. Thirsty?” Eddy tried to avoid his dad’s gaze. He couldn’t completely ignore the smoldering eyes, but he forgot all about it when his eyes met Tom’s. After pulling a few sodas from the refrigerator, both boys entered the living room. Eddy watched Tom’s reaction to the room closely. He hoped Tom would appreciate it and understand why he loved it so much. “Cool room. I love the furniture,” he said. And then his gaze fell on Eddy’s chair. “I bet you love that chair. It looks like it’d be the perfect place to dream or read or just think.” “You’ve got that right,” Eddy said. His voice was full of emotion, and his heart thumped against his chest. He could feel the rhythm in his ears, and he just wanted to be close to Tom. “Hey, wanna see my room?” “Sure. That sounds like a great idea.” Tom smiled widely at Eddy’s suggestion. They head upstairs quietly, and Eddy only hopes his father was deeply involved in one of his cop shows. Too involved to hear their tread. As soon as the door was shut, the boys stood close together. Heat came off them in waves, and Eddy could only hope they’d control themselves. Tom looked deep into Eddy’s eyes as he came close. He ran his fingers slowly up the curve of Eddy’s face with his eyes closed like a blind man memorizing the shape of a beloved’s face. “Yes, sweetie. You make me that happy and so much more. We should celebrate that we found one another so early in our lives. We will not have to live like the pathetic gay men who slip from one relationship to another, always feeling like something is missing. Always hurting deep down, and even afraid.” “Afraid?” “Eddy, we have something special. We understand one another. We really love one another. This isn’t about some quick romp in the sack or a cheap hook-up. This is about building a real relationship and planning a real future together. We may be young, but we complement one another, and...I refuse to let someone like you go.” The silence both young men heard now was one of solidarity. No one was speaking because they were each absorbing the truth. They were lucky. They’d found one another early. Their lives would be more prosperous than most gay men’s. And they would build a life together. Tom broke the silence. “So, I heard you playing some Billy Joel as I got here. You like 80s music too? My mom played the best stuff, and her era was the 70s and 80s, and though few of my friends understand, I’m pretty sure you will. The boys spoke in unison, “Music is the song of the soul’s heart.” “Did you read that on Facebook?” “Yup - you, too?” “I loved it so much that I hit Love, and then I shared it with everyone. It saddened me to see how many folks didn’t recognize the importance of the post. Maybe if they’d paid real attention, they could evaluate the importance of music in their lives.” “Oh well. We no longer have to worry about those poor unfortunate folks - we can listen to the music we love and let it soothe away those long days and prepare us for some long nights,” Tom said as he shot Eddy a smoldering gaze. Eddy was happier than he’d ever been; he went into Tom’s arms for a long, languorous kiss. It felt like home. Until there was a rapid knocking on his door. “Just what are you two up to in there?” Dad’s angry voice reverberated through the room. ...to be continued


I’m not going to go into details of *how* I became homeless because that’s still a part of my life I’m trying to understand. The most important thing you need to know is that I am no longer homeless. The following is a small glimpse into how life was for me as a homeless man in the UK. It is all truth, par a few names of people that have been changed because they may still face issues in their job for what they did to assist me. Little intro over. In late June of 2015, I was declared as an emergency homeless person. This label was given by a psychiatrist and an independent evaluator from my local council. I was deemed “high importance” because of my hospitalising suicide attempts in the past. I was under the impression this would mean I’d spend little time on the streets. I was wrong. For the first three weeks of my time on the streets, I was in one of the safest places I could be. An area that had foot patrols of police, security, and local Homelessness Support Officers. It was in-front of about a dozen shops, all of whom had external CCTV cameras. To give you an idea, this is the area and this is where I slept (the bench with a backrest) I was told by the night security for this area that I was permitted here from 9pm until 5am. At 5am, the day manager would begin his shift and he didn’t like homeless people. During the three weeks I was sleeping there, I had a few occurrences that surprised me. The first was that on my first night, a German business man from out of town paid for me to stay in a local hotel, including a full breakfast the next morning. This was a massive shock. He even helped me to the hotel with my bags and things I had. I was even more shocked when I saw the amount he paid for a total stranger to spend a night in warmth. The total bill, including late booking was £106.50. For one night. The second nice surprise came that next morning. The manager asked about the gentleman that accompanied me to the hotel and I nervously explained my current housing situation. Once I did, I went and had breakfast. I stayed in the room until mid-day, as that was when I needed to hand the key back and leave. As I handed my key back, the manager gave me a carrier bag with numerous contents. Inside was a Pillow (branded, but still very comfortable) and some milk cartons (UHT), coffee sachets, and sugar sachets. My day then became quite repetitive. Because I couldn’t stay sat in the Malls area during the day, even if I was awake, I decided for a few days to just slowly walk around town, sitting down occasionally. After a while though, and I’d get very hungry. I knew that begging in the town centre was against the law and that the CCTV network in the town would detect it instantly so vowed to never beg. And I can proudly say I never once asked for anything (unless offered, such as “would you like a tea or a coffee”). So my second day became one that I stuck to for almost the whole time I was sleeping at The Malls. At 5am, I would hobble along, through The Malls, through Festival Place, and then up to the “top of town”, and sit on a bench that was opposite a Greggs Bakery. I only chose there because at 9am most days, the sun would hit my face and wake me up properly. I decided to stay there because of how people were at the earlier hours in the morning. So I would set myself up. My biggest bag that had mostly sentimental things in I would put right next to me, my hand holding onto a strap. I then lay my bedding cover over my legs and tuck them in to reduce the draft. I then cover the bag and zip my coat up. I was snug and relatively warm. But then again, it was in the summer. So this is what I would see most mornings. I can’t find a shot that accurately represents my location, but hope this will do . It was really difficult to control my stomach noises when you can smell things being baked nearby. But then sitting where I was seemed to attract a bit of attention to me. I would often fall asleep for a moment or two, only to wake up when I heard footsteps (this became very useful at night, because if someone is approaching me, I would wake up faster due to a tad bit of fear). I would sometimes wake up when someone asked if I was okay, but because I was mostly tired and also didn’t want to be accused of begging, all I’d say was “a bit cold, but okay”. While for most people, that was enough and they’d be on their way, a short handful of people would proceed into Greggs to buy me something hot, be that some pastry, soup or a drink. After a few days, one of the people who closed up Greggs at 4pm began to bring out cold food that was supposed to have been thrown away at the end of the day. I was massively grateful to him, because he was essentially stealing. When I found out a few weeks later that he had been sacked, I felt really bad because I thought it was my sitting there that had caused it, but he told me that he had already started at another workplace and was looking for a way to leave Greggs as fast as possible. This became the norm for a while, occasionally a Police Community Support Officer would approach me, take my name, date of birth and ask a few things like where I was sleeping and if I was registered with the local council as homeless. Once I gave the required details, they’d leave. After a while, I noticed it was the same group on duty so it rarely happened after that. When the local council cleaner came around, which happened between 10 and 12 each morning, I would ask if he could take my rubbish from me. This was in part due to laziness. I had gotten comfortable on a wet, wooden bench and didn’t want to have to disrupt it. However the cleaner was happy to, saying that he’d rather me ask, than just leave it. I began to become acquainted with the routine and schedule of the council cleaning crew, and knew that if I did have rubbish, the morning collections were 6am, 10-12, then the evening collection was at 6pm. I also learned on my first Wednesday, that the bench was a bad place to try to get a couple hours of shut eye. Wednesdays and Saturdays were “Market Days”. Hearing burger sellers yelling “Beef burger, sausage roll, bacon butty, a pound” over and over again kept me awake and hungry. On the second market day, a local merchant was in need of someone to watch his stall while he popped to the bank. I was happy to, given that his stall was literally next to my bench (and yes, I had come to call it mine). I sat for a few minutes before he returned. He said the queue was too long in the bank for him to be away from his stall. I then offered to help him. He was, expectantly, sceptical at first, but when I told him I’d leave my bags with him, he agreed. I was given the paying in slip and money and went to the bank. When I returned with the stamped stub, he handed me a £5 note and thanked me. For three weeks in a row, I took his earnings to the bank, but it stopped when he stopped making as much. So I don’t want to bore you by giving a day by day blow of what happened because there was a LOT of repetition. It was basically a case of wake, walk, sit, wake, eat, walk, sit, sleep. I was always respectful towards the areas I sat and slept in, and I think that’s why I was allowed there for as long as I was. However, The Malls was a council owned property, with private contracted security. A new supervisor started. He didn’t like people sleeping inside at night. I felt a lot of anger and upset, but it was wrong of me to do so. It’s not a bed, it’s a bench. Yeah, it was under cover, so it was dry. Given the drafts of wind that would come in, it was difficult to sleep, but when I did sleep, I slept well. I always woke at 4am, and woke up a bit before moving on. I was never woken up by their staff (except the first night because I didn’t know what time to be awake for). Nights became eventful before the new supervisor. I would have people bring me food from the KFC opposite my “bed” and sometimes the manager at the Costa Coffee nearby would bring me a coffee when she closed up if I was around. But when the new supervisor came in, I was ejected. So I slept on a bench a few hundred metres from the train station. The PCSO’s had informed me it was okay to be there because it wasn’t on train station property and wasn’t on The Malls property, but every morning at 3am, British Transport Police would wake me, and ask what I was doing. After a while, I’d say “Sleeping” and then just go back to sleep. They’d wake me every hour until I left. I decided to find somewhere else, not just because of that, but also because the bench was metal, and as the air temperature dropped, so did the metal temperature. I woke up feeling colder than ever some mornings. So between August and October of 2015, I had no “fixed” sleeping spot. I slept anywhere I could, for as long as I could, and would often be woken up by either the police, or council workers. In October, I found a new, better place to sleep. I was sat on some steps outside Festival Place (the enclosed shopping centre) that is a designated smoking area, and decided to sleep there, sat upright. After the first night undisturbed, I continued until the Site Manager approached me. Before he could say anything, I said to him “I guess this is the part where you ask me to move on?” Having slept there for almost a week now, I had assumed I was safe to do so. But alas, even in what appear to be the darker times, surprises still exist. He informed me that it was private property, which got me thinking the police were on their way, but he told me I was permitted to sleep there between 8pm and 8am. He handed me a sleeping bag and roll matt that the Security Staff had all pitched in to get me. He told me that there was a hot water pipe under the third step up that kicked in around 3am, and I’d feel the heat if laying down. So that night, I set up my sentimental bag as my pillow, the Hotel pillow on top, and then I got into the sleeping bag. It was very difficult to get warm, but once I was, I fell asleep instantly. At 7am, I was woken up, but not by a member of security. It was by a road sweeper. Noisy fuckers, but a good alarm clock. I was gone before 8am came around, back up to near Greggs. The best thing is that the bed spot was around 500m from the bench. After a week outside Greggs and sleeping in the new spot, I finally was asked to move on from the bench. Apparently there were a lot of complaints. Thankfully, the police gave me this information in the evening. I collected my stuff, and because it was still cold, I went into the Subway that was in-between my bed and the bench. I had enough money to buy a hot chocolate, but unfortunately, they had already turned the machine off. When the “Sandwich artist” asked about the bags, I explained my situation. For the first time in my life, I had a Subway Sub. It was the best food I had had in a very long time. Better still considering it was free. I spent almost 2 hours in the store, talking to him, and keeping warm. After that, I vowed to go back whenever I could, mostly for the warmth. And that became a habit. I’d sleep on the private property of the shopping centre, and spend my evenings in Subway. But one morning, I woke up at 7am, soaked through. It had started to rain heavily. Hastily I packed my bedding up and went into the Subway. They had only just opened up and the morning staff member was in. She didn’t know much about me, except what the night staff member had said. She said I could sit in the store if I wanted, so long as I made one purchase. Each day, I’d buy a cookie. The staff got to know me more and more, and let me have a small plastic unbranded cup to fill with a drink from the drink machine. I didn’t abuse it, but if I was thirsty, would fill the cup and then just go back to my seat. I read my way through a book but began to feel tired. I drifted to sleep sat in Subway and fully expected to be woken up by the police or the store manager, but no. I slept through until around 3pm from 8am and only got disturbed around 12:30 when the local college came in for lunch. Just noise, not actual disturbing. Occasionally, I’d wake up and see things that have been put on the small table next to me, often from the staff but I once woke up around 1pm to a guy sat next to me reading a newspaper. Once he saw I was awake, he offered to buy me some lunch. Given that my food for each day was essentially a cookie and maybe a bag of crisps (chips for American folk), I said yes. He said I could have any sub I wanted, but I didn’t want to push it so just had a small one. Nothing special. As Christmas loomed closer, the nights in town became more active. A local nightclub owner saw me one night, and then every Friday and Saturday night for my time sleeping where I was, he would bring a cup of tea and some biscuits to me as they locked up. Fridays it’d be around 1am, and Saturdays, it was closer to 4am sometimes. The drunk people walking past, were amusing to me. At first I was worried I’d wake to one pissing on me, or something, but most would talk to me if I was awake. I would often awake after a night that clubs were open and find a few bits of change next to my pillow. It paid for my breakfast and sometimes if I was left with enough, I’d get a burger or something from elsewhere in the town centre. And then, in December of 2015, I got the news I was hoping for. Twice a week I’d go to the local council and ask if anything had come up. It took the best part of six months, but they had finally secured me a room in a shared accommodation building. It’s where I write this, and where I’ll probably be for a little while, but it’s better than being homeless. The purpose of this story was not to hoard karma or up-votes or whatever, but was to purely shed light on what I remember most about being homeless. It is 100% true. If you have any further questions about my time, feel free to drop me a message to my inbox.


It’s a brisk, bright morning at the pond. The chilly breeze ripples the water as I stand in the dampened sand looking at your memorial. The flowers and teddy bears that mobbed your smiling picture aren’t nearly as abundant as they were three years ago. Remnants of shriveled carnations lay at the base of the picture frame. I see your father bring one every time he trudges down the hill to visit you. It gets harder for him every time he comes here. Yes, it's a beautiful day today. Serene. Much like that day three years ago, when they found your battered, lifeless body twisted across the same sand I’m standing in right now. I close my eyes and allow myself to get nostalgic. I think back to when I first saw you working the counter at the Coffee Barn. I ordered the cinnamon coffee with cream and after I took a sip, I told you it was the best cup of coffee I have ever had. You smiled a smile so genuine, there’s no way you could have faked it. In that moment, I knew we should be together and the only regret I have is that our paths didn’t cross sooner. I’m not ashamed to say how disappointed I was when you left me to study abroad. I tried to move on, but when you came back home to me, I decided we would give it another chance. You settled in and took a job as a lifeguard at this pond. Oh, how you loved it here. You enjoyed watching the kids splash around and even joined in their games of Marco Polo. They adored how sweet and playful you were. We all did. Something seemed different though. You seemed distant and I felt unnoticed. Our last night together in the car on the way to the motel, I tried my best to be what you wanted. I went out of my way to cheer you up with gummy worms and 90’s music - two of your favorite things. We hit the highway fast and hard, weaving around other cars, outlandishly singing along to the radio. It took some convincing, but you begrudgingly joined in. The traffic thinned out, the bustling strip disappeared in the rear-view and tears began to form in your eyes. By the time we got to the room you were crying, telling me you were ready to leave. I cradled your head on my chest. “You need to just let me go,” you sobbed. I gently pushed the tears off your cheeks with my thumbs and told you everything would be okay. That seemed to upset you more. You couldn’t even appreciate the little things I did to try to make you feel better and so I called you selfish and told you I would drive you home. That’s when I knew it would never work. That’s when I first got that feeling. “Did you know her?” The words, and realization, that I’m no longer alone knock me from my slumber and instantly bring me back to the present. I turn towards the wounded, quivering voice to see the familiar man holding a single carnation. He’s worn and breathing heavily from the walk down the hill. My god he’s aged like a dog since I’ve seen him last. “My daughter, did you know her?” I turn back towards the water. “No. I just love this pond.” He nods and kneels down to place the flower next to the makeshift cross, the dates 1999-2018 etched on its horizontal board. I offer him my hand, he groans as I help him back to his feet and for a brief moment, we stand side by side. This is how it could have been if you noticed me; the three of us enjoying a beautiful day at the pond. Unfortunately, your selfishness left me with this feeling. This seething rage that I cannot contain much longer. I come here every time I get that feeling. It helps, but I’m afraid soon it won’t be enough to quell me. It keeps growing, like another piece of wood thrown on the fire burning inside me. I miss you so bad and I wish that you were here with me now, to satisfy this feeling. So that I could kill you all over again.


I sat in the cafeteria reading my book. I was by myself and thankful for a little silence. Across from me sat a table of popular girls. Sadie Hudson was at the head of the group. She towered over the other girls, and her light brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She laughed loudly and cupped her hands to whisper into her friend’s ear while staring at me. I took my book and began to make my way to another table. “What are you reading?” she asked, a twisted smile on her face. “Nothing that would interest you.” She snatched the book out of my hands. “The Vampire Lestat?” Said Sadie. “I bet she dreams of having a vampire lover. Don’t you, Val?” said another girl with dark hair. Before I could say anything, she flipped through the pages and began reading the more lurid passages to the table. They were all cackling like mindless idiots. I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t even think you could read,” I said softly. “I bet you she’s some kind of devil worshiper,” whispered the dark-haired girl. The bell rang, I looked around the cafeteria for staff, there was no one there just a sea of students heading out, Sadie and the other girls glaring at me. I grabbed my backpack and made it toward the exit. “We’re not done with you slut!” said Sadie. “What up Dracula’s daughter?” said Sadie’s boyfriend, Robbie. He was on some sports team at school. I forgot which one. "Nothing, I was just going to class before I was rudely interrupted by your idiot group.” "Call me an idiot again. I’ll make sure you’ll regret it,” he said. "You just threatened me with assault,” I said. “I’m going to report this.” "My dad’s a cop. It’s not going to stick. I could make you disappear, and no one would question us,” said the young man by Sadie’s side. I sprinted to my next class, looking behind me to see if they were following, thankfully they weren’t. I was slightly out of breath as I sat down at my usual desk and unpacked my bag. The whole class was staring at me as I pulled out my history book to study. Mr. Russo padded up to me slowly. "Um, Ms. Valerie, are you all right,” he said under his breath. "I'm fine, just running a little late sir, it won’t happen again, I assure you.” “Valerie, you’re crying, if you want to see the counselor-“ “No one listens to me, Sir. I need to focus on my GPA. It’s the only thing that will get me out of here.” He sighed and lowered his eyes. “Ms. Valerie, I’m going to write you a note to go to the nurse’s office to clean up.” I took the note and went to the nurse’s office. I cleaned up my face and drank some water. Wanda, the school nurse, was a kindly lady in a light pink sweater and salt and pepper hair. "Are you sure you don’t want to see the principal or guidance counselor?” "They’d just twist it around on me until I looked like the instigator, it’s not worth it,” I said. "Sadie Hudson?” "How did you know?” " You wouldn’t be the first girl that ended up here because of her. She used to be such a nice girl, bright and cheerful, but lately, she’s been awful. Just because her boyfriend is the sheriff’s son doesn’t mean she can walk over everybody.” “I’m getting my GED and attending a community college. I’m already taking advanced placement courses. There wouldn’t be much difference,” I said. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I’ll write you a hall pass. You have near-perfect attendance. I don’t think goin’ home early once will hurt your record.” “Thank you.” I took the pass from her and headed out to my car since I was leaving early, the halls were blessedly empty. Winding mountain roads and deep forest surrounded me as I drove home. The woods parted to the town of Junction. It was a tiny village with a few houses, a gas station, and a post office, at the end of the community, lay ruins of an old ironworks from the 1800s. A brick structure was twisting in decay at the foot of the mountain pass. There were rumors of a bad fire nearly a century ago that left the factory in ruin. I drove down the long driveway to my family’s house. It was a decent-sized cabin with a wooded yard. I carefully opened the front door and slipped inside. My parents were at work, and my sister wouldn’t be home for the next few hours, so I had the house to myself. Under my bed were books I hid from my parents. My family was staunch Baptist. I didn’t want to hear the arguments from them. I already had enough drama about how I dressed, let alone the lectures I would receive for practicing witchcraft. I had books on spells, demonology, and the occult as well as Wicca, Paganism, Buddhism, and Voudoun. I rummaged around and found the book I needed; ‘Protection and Reversal Magik.’ Flipping through the pages, I found a spell on building a ward of protection. I didn’t want to hurt Sadie, but I wasn’t going to be a victim either. Do no harm, but take no shit. After studying, I went to bed and woke up late at night. I gathered the spell-book, and a small bag packed with chalk, a few tiny candles, incense, a lighter, and salt. I put on a long black robe and a small wand that carved out of olive wood. I crept out of the cabin into the night. The road was empty as I walked to the old ironworks. I wanted someplace private I could cast my spell and move on with my life. Perhaps I would even free a spirit or two that was trapped there. In the middle of the factory was crumbling brick with a chimney reaching towards the stars. In the middle of the ruin stood Sadie, her eyes had turned black, Robbie stood behind her. His eyes were black too. His shadow was inky and angular. Too angular to be human. I could only catch a glimpse of it before it disappeared. Only to return on the opposite wall, a black shadow with jagged angles and tendrils. This was some demon, some monstrous entity that had corrupted Sadie and Robbie, what in the hell did I get myself into? “I want her to pay in blood,” said Sadie. The book was heavy in my hands. I had the knowledge to do something about this, and I was here fully armed against it. I could lose horribly and be creatures’ mercy. The olive wand trembled in my hands. I fumbled to find a page with an exorcism spell and found nothing. I would have to improvise. Do no harm, but take no shit. It was now or never. I grabbed a handful of salt and flung it into the shadow. Sadie and her boyfriend recoiled and made a hissing sound, smoke coiled black as the shadow itself. I brandished my wand: "I cast thee out by the name of the elements, Air, Fire, Earth, and Water!” The creature hissed again and backed away slowly. "I cast thee out of thine host and among roots of the earth!” I flung more salt. Sadie screamed and recoiled. Robbie grabbed me, his hand squeezing my throat, my vision darkened. “Down and out, amongst the stones and roots!” I screamed and chanted over and over. A loud inhuman shriek cracked through the darkness. A force yanked Robbie away from my neck and clear across the floor. He lay limply. I got up and coughed hard, catching my breath. My throat burned, and my neck felt bruised. I went over to Sadie and grabbed her arm. "Come on. We have to run!” She nodded and got up; she ran so fast that she pulled me behind her. Gravel slid beneath me as I hitched up my long black robe to run faster. The inky shadow was further and further behind us. We made it back to my cabin. "It’s safe in here, but I need you to be quiet,” I said. “What the fuck just happened?” asked Sadie, tears were streaming down her eyes, and her nose was running. “I.. I don’t know. An exorcism, I think, shh, just go in.” I carefully unlocked the door to my house. We walked upstairs quickly and silently. Once in my bedroom, I threw down a line of salt lining the entrance. “This is my abode; Hecate, protect it from darkness and spirits unknown.” I chanted as I held my wand against the door. I felt pressure, and then the room felt brighter and lighter. Sadie stared at me, her jaw agape. “We’re safe here,” I said, deflating to the floor. “What was that thing?” Sadie asked. “I don’t know whatever it was. It isn’t good.” “It has Robbie. You have to go and help him, please!” “We’re lucky we made it out alive, I don’t think I can fight that thing-“ “You have to try!” her face was bright red, and her nose was running. “Look, give me some time, I can build up a way to banish it for good.” She started to tremble, and I sat by her, she put an arm around me and began to sob. “Val, I’m sorry for how I treated you.” "It wasn’t you; it wasn’t even a person,” I sighed. “Don’t you worry, I’ll find some way out of this.” I let Sadie sleep on my bed as I studied my books for a solution. In my demonology book, I found a small section on exorcisms. The chapter warned against trying such a feat without years of training or alone. Demons and evil creatures hated strong will and faith. It didn’t specify a religion. Hell, an atheist only needed enough confidence in themselves to do one. (Then again, an atheist wouldn’t believe any of this was happening to begin with and try to find a rational explanation). Even with faith, it was perilous. I didn’t know any other occultist, at least not outside of small internet circles. I couldn’t go to our family pastor without outing myself as a witch. Once again, I was on my own with this. We walked into school the next day. The halls were silent. People stared at Sadie, and I, cupped hands whispered into ears. She parted from me, and I went to my morning classes. At lunch, I noticed Sadie sitting alone, tears running down her face. I sat next to her. “It’s still controlling him,” she sobbed barely above a whisper. I looked over to the next table, and Robbie was there with the pack of popular girls. The dark-haired girl twined around his arm. Inky, angular shadows surrounded the group. “Looks like our little Satanist has found a lesbian lover,” she smirked. They all broke out into tittering laughter. “Leave us alone!” said Sadie. “Or what, you’ll leave me behind to make out with a Witch?” said Robbie. "Shh,” I said under my breath, “remember, it’s not them.” "You have to fight them,” Sadie whispered. "Not in public. I’ll go back to the ruins tonight to see if it comes back.” Sadie nodded, her shoulders shook. Her eyes were red and swollen by tears. I had had years to build up a thick skin to being bullied and being laughed at and alone. I focused on my school work all these years and built a wall of sarcasm to protect me. "Robbie, you’re just upset because your girlfriend thinks I’m better in bed,” I smirked. “Maybe try being less vanilla. I’m sorry you’re all bigoted homophobes. You’ll have to greet all types in your future Walmart careers.” The bell rang. I wish I could have brought Sadie to my AP classes with me. At least the students there were mature enough to keep opinions to themselves. I walked to the guidance counselor’s office and asked for programs on independent study or an early transfer to community college. After school, I went to the parking lot to find the tires of my car slashed. I went back to the principal’s office and made a report, the police were called, including Sheriff Collins, Robbie’s dad. My stomach dropped, and I knew that this would go nowhere. I would have to report it to my insurance and wait for the claim to settle. “I can give you a ride home.” I turned around and saw Sadie. Her curly caramel hair was disheveled, and her eyes looked red and tired. "Thank you, I’m sorry about today,” I said. "How do you live with it?” she asked. “How can you stand how people treat you?” “With a lot of sarcasm and condescension,” I said. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you get used to it after a while. You learn not to trust people either. Even I have bad days where I break down. I was planning to leave school, not drop out, but graduate early. I don’t have to deal with this bullshit anymore. I never want to see this town again.” She burst into another round of tears. “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you!” “It wasn’t you,” I said. “It was, that...... that thing may have been on me, but it didn’t have complete control. It would whisper to me. It would tell me such mean things. But it didn’t make me say anything. I could’ve ignored it.” "Ok, ok, I forgive you,” I said. “Right now, I just want to go home.” Sadie drove a white Chevy Malibu. We drove in silence to my house in the woods. "Look, I’m going to go to the ruins tonight and try to fight this thing,” I said She nodded. "I’m not strong enough to fight this creature on my own. I need you there as back up.” “I’m scared. I have no idea what I’m doing. Look, you’re the witch. I mean, you have magical powers or something.” “It’s afraid of faith,” I said. “Bring a Cross or a Star of David, or a Pentagram or crystal or a lucky sock, whatever you believe. I’ll do most of the work, but I need someone else there.” She took a deep breath and nodded again. “I’ll see what I can do.” I tried to keep my mind off of the night ahead by studying. I worked on a term paper for a few hours, going to the kitchen to grab some leftovers. My parents engrossed in reality shows. I told them about my car and that I reported it to insurance. My father said he would call a tow truck in the morning and continued to watch T.V. I gathered my materials, a bag of salt, my olive wand, and some spring water that I left in the moonlight. It wasn’t Holy Water in the traditional sense, but it was the best that I had. The evil creature was afraid of force, afraid of will, fearful of faith. Do no harm, but take no shit. After my parents went to bed, I left the house quietly. The full moon shone overhead, casting blue light on the gravel road towards the ruins. Wood creaked under my feet as I entered the crumbling structure. “Sadie?” I called out softly. I saw a body hanging limply from one of the brick pillars in the silver light. It was Sadie, her curls dangled over her face, and her eyes were still open. “Poor girl, it seems she wasn’t strong enough to handle ridicule,” a raspy voice whispered in the darkness. “She’s not strong, not like you.” “Down amongst the trees and out upon the roots!” I shouted. I saw Robbie as he flinched and moved back. Fumbling with the bottle, I splashed all the holy water into his face. Steam poured off of his shadow, and he wailed in pain. “Down amongst the trees and out into the roots! Leave, go back to whence you came! BEGONE!” Robbie hissed and shuddered a bit. The dark angular shadow began to lift from him. I pushed every bit of energy and will through my olive wand. “BEGONE!” Another shudder. Dizziness struck me, and my legs felt limp. I took a deep breath. “By Gaia, Hecate, Bridgette! By Fire, Earth, Air, and Water. By Moon, Sun, Earth, and Stars, I order you GET OUT!” The shadow made a ripping sound, and Robbie screamed. Then there was disturbing laughter. “That was a valiant attempt, little Witch,” said Robbie. “I haven’t fought anyone that came close to beating me. Because you amuse me, I’ll let you live.” My mouth fell open. “There have been others before you. All the chants with “The Power of Christ Compels You!” he laughed. “None of it even came close to you. I think our dear Reverend only cares about the collection plate.” He smiled wistfully. “But you, you get called a Satanist, face ridicule and cruelty every day and have more faith in yourself than he does. This is very amusing, and I respect you for that.” “BEGONE!” I yelled again. Robbie chuckled and put his finger over my lips. “You won’t speak about this to anybody. I’ll report Sadie as a suicide, nothing to do with you. The mean girls will get blamed for bullying her. You’ll go on to get excellent grades and graduate early. You’ll leave this town altogether and not look back.” I went to cast again, but my lips sealed shut, my tongue felt like a stone in my mouth. "The thing is, y’all have it wrong. You’re trying to cast some demon or evil spirit out of me, thinking it’ll save me.” He shook his head and smiled. “I don’t hold host to a demon, sweetie. I am the demon. It’s just like you being a witch. You are what you are. Someone can’t perform an exorcism and make you stop being a witch. Just as you can’t cast my soul out from my own body.” I wanted to scream at him, to take down this monster hidden in the flesh, but I couldn’t break whatever silence he threw on me. Scowling, I picked up my bag and stomped home defeated. The next day at school, the mean girls were all in tears. Sadie’s suicide was all over the local news, and there were grief counselors. There was an assembly about bullying and planned a memorial service. People that I never even knew said their apologies for the way they treated me. Some also asked me to tutor them. I wanted to scream out, to tell the police the truth about what happened. Every time I went to say something, my mouth sealed shut, and my tongue felt leaden. Robbie walked by, putting his finger over his lips and smiled. I wanted to punch his teeth out, but I had no other choice than to swallow my rage. The rest of the year went smoothly. I graduated early and enrolled at State University. I made friends that had similar interest and accepted me for who I was. There was some tension with my family but could finally be myself. I moved forward with my life and didn’t much think of the town or high school. Years later, I was getting ready for work and watching the news. Robert Collins was running for governor, and his numbers showed he was winning. I saw dark, angular shadows looming around him. Blank soulless eyes stared right at me through the camera. Monsters never go away; they get elected.


#Hello r/ShortStories! : gift shopping, hanging the lights, warm mugs of hot cocoa, and... Reddit’s Annual Best Of Awards! We will, of course, be participating in this lovely tradition once again. 2022 has been quite a year (seriously, how is it December already?!), so let’s take some time to look back on some of the great stories that were posted to the subreddit. Winners will receive our **Community “Best Of” award**, which will give the recipient **one month of Reddit Premium**! And of course, . *** #How Does This Work? There are **several categories** in which you can **nominate your favorite stories** from 2022. In the comments below, you will find a comment for each category, made by a moderator. When you are ready to make nominations, **reply to the corresponding comment with a link to your nomination**. You can view for an idea of what it should look like. Each user may **nominate one story for each category**. When the nomination phase is finished, voting will begin on a separate thread, with all the nominations. **Note: THIS IS NOT THE VOTING THREAD.** Be sure to **read the entire post for categories, rules, and deadlines**. Should any changes be made to the schedule, they will be edited into the post, so stay updated! *** #The Following Categories Are Up for Nomination ###Weekly Feature Categories - **Best SERIAL SUNDAY Submission** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best MICRO MONDAY Submission** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / ###Tagged Story Submission Categories: - **Best [SF] SCIENCE FICTION Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [FN] FANTASY Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [HR] HORROR Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [MS] MYSTERY & SUSPENSE Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [RF] REALISTIC FICTION Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [HF] HISTORICAL FICTION Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [AA] ACTION & ADVENTURE Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [HM] HUMOUR Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [RO] ROMANCE Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [SP] SPECULATIVE FICTION Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [TH] THRILLER Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [UR] URBAN Story** - &restrict_sr=1&sr_nsfw=) / - **Best [MF] MISC FICTION Story** - / *** #Schedule - **Announcement:** December 21th - **Nomination Period:** December 21th - - **Voting Period:** January 6th until January 17th 11:59pm EST - After the Voting Period ends, results will be recorded and awards will be handed out. Winners will be announced in a post. *** #Nomination & Voting Rules - **Nomination comments should be placed in the appropriate categories.** Misplaced nominations will not be recorded. - **EDIT: Each user may nominate up to 3 stories per category.** Users may not nominate themselves. - **Nominated stories cannot be posted by banned or deleted accounts.** - **Nominated stories must be posted originally after January 1st, 2022 at 12:00am EST.** - **In the event of a tie at the end of the voting period, it will be broken by an anonymous member of the mod team.** - **Attempts to game the system for or against any nomination will result in appropriate punishment for those involved.** Do not downvote any of the nominations. - **Category comments are for nominations only.** Please use the off-topic stickied comment if you have questions or comments, or for any off-topic conversation. **Good luck, and have fun! If you do have any questions, feel free to ask in the provided Off Topic Comment or send us a modmail!** *** ###Subreddit News - Join to chat with prompters, authors, and readers! - Serialize your story with or test your micro fiction skills with . - Try collaborative writing over on r/WritingPrompts with ! - Looking for critiques and feedback for your story? Check out our crit sub .


Present day (Sam) \- "Wait... what do you mean by that?"- I asked, completely confused. \- "You heard me. She died giving birth to you."- he said, with the most disgusted face he could make. I looked at Ethan. He was shocked. I was frozen and couldn't move. She died giving birth to me? I... killed her? Before I could organize my thoughts, my father punched me in the nose. I was so shocked I couldn't even feel the pain. only the blood running down my nose. \- "HEY! Stop that!"- Etan yelled.- "Sam, come here. We're going to the hospital, now!" Ethan grabbed me and led me to the outside. My father was just going in circles around the kitchen saying "crap", again and again. Ethan called his parents and, in the blink of an eye, they were at my door. \- "Oh, Sam. What did he do to you? Are you okay?"- I was frozen and so, Mrs. Stevens helped me get in the car.- "Oh, sweetie. That bastard. I knew we should've done something before it was too late." Mr. Stevens entered my house yelling at my father. I tried to stop him, but nothing came out. I felt tears running down my face. Was I crying? How... how could he do this? I know he blames me, but I was just a baby. It wasn't my fault... was it? Am I really to blame? Did I really... killed my mother? It couldn't be. Ethan was holding me while I sobbed copiously. Between blood and tears, I stained all of my clothes and Ethan's. \- "Hey, dude. It's going to be okay. Don't worry. We'll take care of you."- Ethan comforted me. I was so out of it that I couldn't even answer him. I just hugged him stronger. We arrived at the hospital. I hadn't said a word since he punched me. Mr. and Mrs. Stevens talked to the nurse, and she wouldn't stop looking at me asking what had happened. I didn't say anything, and Mr. Stevens lied and said I injured myself playing football. She looked at me for a bit longer and then led us to a room. A couple minutes later and I had a piece of metal on my nose. Apparently, my father had broken it. I slept at Ethan's that night. I was staring at the top bunk bed while laying on the bottom one. I stood there in silence, crying and hoping Ethan wouldn't hear me. After half an hour, Ethan asked if I was awake. \- "Hey, Sam. Are you awake?" \- "Yes."- I mumbled. \- "How are you doing?"- I didn't answer him.- "You know we love you, right?" \- "Yeah, I know. But why didn't he?"- I asked. \- "I don't know, pal. I'm sorry." After a few hours, I fell asleep. I had the worst nightmare that night and woke up gasping for air. Ethan helped me calm me down and then we went into the kitchen. \- "Good morning, Sam. How are you?". Mrs. Stevens asked. \- "I'm not sure. My nose still hurts a lot."- I answered. \- "Don't worry about it. The doctor gave us some painkillers for you. It should be less painful in a few hours."- Mrs. Stevens informed me. \- "Thank you."- I said. \- You hungry?"- Mr. Stevens asked me. \- "No, not really. But thanks."- I said. \- "C'mon. You need to eat something. Just a yogurt, at least."- Mr. Stevens convinced me. \- "Okay..."- I compromised. I spent the whole day quiet while Ethan's parents tried to solve the mess my father had made the night before. Ethan tried to distract me as much as he could the whole day. We played some games, went for a walk and watched a movie. He was the best friend I could ever have asked for. At the end of the day, I just hugged him and thanked me. He hugged me back and said I didn't have to. It was agreed after a few weeks that Ethan's parents would take my custody. I'd live with them, and they reported the accident to the police. I wasn't sure how I felt about that at the time. Though my father did hit me, I didn't want him to get in trouble. Either way, living with the Stevens was the best decision. My father went to court for what he had done, and it was said that he couldn't be alone with me. Someone had to be there ass a witness, so the accident wouldn't happen again. After the first year, my father moved out of town, and I never saw him again. But it dind't matter. I had Ethan and his parents. My surrogate family. I loved them as if they were my family since the beginning. I eventually found out where my mother was buried and would visit the cemetery every month. My family started to be a little more open about her, so I had an idea as to who she was. I found out she liked to sing, that she was funny, nice and overall, just lovely. I wish i had met her. Maybe my life would've been different. Maybe things would've been better. Maybe things would've been worse. Who knows? The end. Thank you for reading.


The Leaking Pipe That bloody pipe had leaked again. Amanda set down her basket of laundry and looked up at the perpetrator. It had to be one of two pipes which ran parallel across the ceiling of the garage, directly above this morning’s pool of water. Similar pools had been appearing in the same spot for several days now, and Amanda had had quite enough. Leaking pipes were an inconvenience the Harrison household could do without right now. She had wanted to mention the problem to Neil, but these days he returned home from work so sad, that she had thought better of it. He had more important things to worry about than a splatter of water on the garage floor. So Amanda had set about solving the problem herself. The night before, when Neil had retired to bed, Amanda had taken several wads of cotton wool and taped them to the pipes’ joints. This simple test would determine the precise location of the leak. But the wads of cotton wool were all dry. Amanda prodded them all again, but they were still fluffy - they were all exactly as she had left them last night, and yet, the leak had negated the test and found its way to the water deposit on the floor. How strange. She continued to the washing machine, an old thing located on the far side of the garage, and spared the leaking plumbing no further thought as her husband had himself got up and left for work. The garage was built into the house, and had not been used to store a car in some time. The metal garage-door, painted a pale blue from the outside, hadn’t been opened in years, meaning the only entrance in constant use was the door at the back, which led to the rest of the house via a hallway at the base of the home’s staircase. Amanda only used the garage for the washing machine, which was a task performed each morning after her husband had departed for work. It wasn’t until mid-morning, when the washing machine stopped churning, that Amanda pondered what to do next with her problem. Calling in a professional would be expensive, and she’d never shield the costs from Neil. He’d ask why she hadn’t just told him. There was Brian next door. A builder by trade but surely he would tighten a loose joint for them? She wondered if he was on a job this morning. It had to be worth a phone call. “Thanks for coming over, Brian.” “No problem, Love, sounds like a fairly routine job,” Brian didn’t take off his shoes. The garage door to the driveway hadn’t been opened in such a long time but Amanda wondered if she should have made an exception as Brian trudged his muddy work boots through the living room. Such a house-proud lady, Amanda had quickly tidied the front rooms when Brian had agreed to come over, but it was only when they approached the hall at the foot of the stairs and laid her hand on the door to the garage that she realised what a tip it was. “I must warn you, Brian, we’re due a bit of a clear-out in here.” What was she saying? She’d been to her neighbours a couple of times and he wasn’t the tidiest of people - far from it. What would he care really? But she still winced as the door opened and the stack of boxes filled of items without an otherwise home came into view. “These ones here?” he said. She nodded and he ran his hand along the lengths of both pipes. How had she let the garage get this messy? There were boxes of old clothes she could take to Oxfam, Neil’s tools she’d seen him use once, and that dog basket... they could get rid of that now as well. It had belonged to a beautiful Alsatian. “You say it leaks through the night, Amanda?” “Most nights, yes.” “It’s this pipe on the left here which runs water from the boiler to upstairs, the one next to it is for gas. You have a boiler upstairs don’t you?” “I think so.” “You do. Every time you draw a lot of water upstairs water runs through this pipe from the main tank over there. The reason it appears at night must be down to your own routine. Do you run a bath every night or something like that?” “Sometimes.” Amanda thought hard. Last night, when she’d put the cotton wool on the pipes, the floor was dry. Had she brushed her teeth before or after setting up the test? Yes, it was definitely before, she brushed hers then went whilst Neil was flossing. She used the downstairs bathroom this morning while the kettle was boiling. Perhaps Neil had used the bathroom during the night? She thought she would have heard him but then again that medication had made her such a deep sleeper. And all that still didn’t explain why the cotton wool was dry. “It might not be leaking from the obvious joints, which is why your experiment didn’t work. Sometimes a leak can run along the pipes and drip down a few metres away from the hole. Though I must admit, you can normally tell straight away.” “What about the heating, Brian? If we hadn’t used any water in the bathroom could the heating coming on this morning have caused it?” Brian laughed, as if he found Amanda’s lack of central heating knowledge highly amusing. “The heating runs on a closed system separate to your upstairs water. You wouldn’t want that mucky stuff coming out of your taps let me tell you that.” “Brian. I am sure we didn’t use any water last night after I’d checked the garage. But this morning there was a puddle on the floor.” “Well, Amanda, if that’s true I can say with certainty that your puddle isn’t coming from these pipes.” Drip! Drip! Drip! Amanda dreamt of leaking pipes and puddles that night. It was the sort of awake where a person was very tired, but knew they wouldn’t get back to sleep for hours. She shouldn’t have had that coffee so late last night. That was stupid. She turned to cuddle her husband, but her hands only hit cold pillow. He was probably in the bathroom. Amanda needed a glass of water. She reached for the light, and then for her slippers and robe. Her soles flopped along the carpet, the slippers were tatty. She supposed that slippers would last a while longer now that there was no dog in the house. When she reached the landing, she noticed that the bathroom light was off, and the first inkling that something was wrong. Where was Neil? At the bottom of the stairs, the crack around the sides of the garage door revealed that it was on. She grabbed the handle, wondering what the hell was going on. And there she found Neil, clasping something in his trembling hands. It was a box, printed with a floral pattern. She could just about read the words printed in gold on top: Our loving pet, rest in peace, Cassy. She knelt next to her husband, underneath a pair of copper pipes, and cradled his head upon her chest as he sobbed.


Haunted House Some people swore that the house was haunted--certainly years of neglect and an assortment of decaying junk in the garden made it look the part--but it was Mrs McKinnet who transformed her run-down house into something that truly terrified the neighborhood children. She barely spoke to anyone, and had the kind of severe demeanor that could make any child wonder what she might do if she caught you on her property. And she was old--old enough that she did look rather like a corpse. That meant, of course, that we had to go. Three girls, nerving ourselves up to do something to prove that we too could have an adventure just like the characters in the books we read. We resolved to sneak into her garage after school. It was a dare, but a tame one compared to tackling the house itself. We climbed the fence at the back, negotiated an overgrown blackberry bush, and turned the handle of the door at the back of the garage. It was open. Perhaps that should have been a warning sign. We ventured inside. Inside were dusty shelves of neatly packed items; boxes of clothes and decorations and papers and discarded appliances. We filed past them silently, like we were in a museum, or in a church looking at mystical sacred objects. In the center of the garage was a 1930s Buick, perfect and gleaming like it was fresh from the showroom. I took it all in silently, the giant trunk, the shining chrome, the small rear window. And then as I moved to better see the side of the car I saw her--Mrs McKinnet, sitting motionless and impassive on the back seat. I stopped in my tracks. I thought for a moment that she was dead, but she turned, just slightly, and her eyes locked with mine. I screamed and we turned and ran. Dianne and Amy didn't believe I could have seen her. They told me the car was empty, that I had been scared, and they mocked me for it. I didn't answer. I had seen her eyes. I had seen her sadness and regret; somehow I knew that she had tried to hold on to some happy memory so tightly that it had curdled in her grasp. I can't explain why I screamed, except that it was too somehow much for me to bear. But seeing me in that moment meant nothing to Mrs McKinnet. She didn't care about anyone or anything in today's world, just some lost moment from long ago, when things were different. I had witnessed a haunting that day, not of a place but of a person--a specter of the past that wouldn't let go. I fell out with Dianne and Amy over in the following weeks. The experience had changed me and they just couldn't understand. Nothing was ever the same again after that.


“You literally have a superpower,” TJ argued. “That’s cool!” “But it’s not a cool superpower. It’s not like I can fly or shoot lasers from my eyes or something,” Chloe sighed. She was walking home from school with her best friend. They were very different, she and TJ. She was tall and blond with the awkward gait of someone who grew too fast and didn't quite know what to do with their body. She was bookish and introverted, not much into sports and preferred the company of butterflies to humans. TJ, on the other hand, was athletic and gregarious. He loved to be outside and a sport had a ball, he was good it. He made friends easily and loved people. They were friends because their parents were friends and they’d grown up together. Chloe was a faithful fan whenever TJ was in a soccer match or baseball game and cheered like she knew what was happening on the field. TJ was willing to go on solo hikes and seek out blooming wildflowers or sit for hours staring through a pair of binoculars for an elusive species of butterfly. That was their biggest difference though. Their biggest difference wasn’t discovered until just last week. They’d been on a hike, it being the season for the wildflowers to bloom, and Chloe had wanted to get some new photos. TJ went with her and good naturedly complained about sunburns and mosquitoes. He’d been goofing around on a rather precarious part of the trail when his foot slipped and she’d watched in horror as he tumbled over the cliff. Chloe remembered feeling a warm tingly feeling in her hands, wishing she could reach out and catch his fall when he was suddenly plopped gently back on the trail by a windswept ponderosa pine. “You can command plants. I mean, that’s cool. Hey, can you make the grass grow and trip the other team at my soccer game tomorrow?” he asked. He had a baseball in his hand and was tossing it back and forth. “TJ! That’s cheating!” she admonished. TJ laughed and chucked the ball toward her. She waggled her hands uselessly in the air and the ball sailed past her left ear and landed with a soft pfft in a trumpet vine. The vine reared back, tossed the ball in a perfect arc back to TJ’s waiting hands. “Nice!” he exclaimed. Chloe sighed. The trumpet vine was more coordinated than she was. “Stop it,” she hissed. She wanted to keep her newfound power a secret. If people knew, she’d have to go to the Superhero Academy and leave her books, her butterflies, her hikes, and her best friend behind. Students at the Superhero Academy lived up to literal superhero expectations. They solved crimes, saved hundreds from certain death, and generally kept society functioning. Chloe didn’t think she could deal with that sort of pressure. Plus, they had to wear crazy spandex suits that flattered the type of body she didn’t have. “Chloe, you’re being ridiculous. You know you got an awesome power. You, like, command nature. That’s way better than some stupid laser eyes any day.” At that moment one of the Academy students with said laser eyes came by them on a hoverboard casually zapping bits of trash along the street, turning litter into ash. His hoverboard hit a bump and he tumbled forward accidentally zapping a newly planted maple. “Oh no!” Chloe yelped and held out an arm. The laser sight bounced off the tree and was scattered harmlessly in the air. She could sense the tree’s great relief. “Whoa!” TJ said, his mouth forming an “Oh” of admiration. ***** Chloe often thought of that day, the day she was discovered and ripped from her quiet life and thrust into the busy world of the Superhero Academy. Over the past few years, she’d grown a bit taller, cut her hair, but still didn’t fill out the suit quite the way the girl who could command water did. She missed TJ terribly. She’d been taking final exams when he played in the state finals for baseball, but she’d heard from Sal (the boy who could had some kind of telescopic vision and could see for miles) that TJ hit a homerun and won the game. Sal didn’t give her this information out of kindness. He gave it to her so he could tease her about her love of the “normies.” That’s what they called people like TJ, normies. Sometimes they called her a normie too or a normie lover. She didn’t have any friends and was so busy with the demands of the academy that she hadn’t seen a butterfly or a wildflower in months. Okay, that’s not entirely true. She’d seen them, but for practice only. Poor things, subjected to her clumsy attempts at manipulating them. The flowers virtually screamed at her yesterday when she’d accidentally made a daisy drop all it’s petals. Do you want me to be naked! This is an embarrassment! The day after TJ hit the homerun she’d decided she’d had enough. She was dropping out of the academy. She went to the headmaster to declare her intentions, destined to live her life as a mediocre normie and being totally fine with it. Chloe marched down a long gray hallway. The floor virtually shimmered and she could see her reflection looking as frightened as she felt staring back at her. Chloe paused in front of the headmaster’s door and took a deep breath. The headmaster terrified her. He was a huge man of imposing strength who could tear a car in half with his bare hands. Superstrength. She knocked timidly. The door was gray like the hall and shiny. It had been cleaned recently, and not well, for Chloe could see the streaks on the surface. They marred her reflection, making her look wavy and noncorporeal, like a phantom. There was no answer. She checked her watch. She was well within his office hours so she knocked again, louder and braver than she thought her hand could be. “Come in!” the headmaster called. Stealing herself, Chloe went inside. The headmaster was speaking to a woman with purple hair. Chloe recognized her as a previous graduate. She’d been a senior when Chloe entered the academy for the first time. Telekinesis was her thing, Chloe thought. As if confirming, the girl twirled her fingers and sent the pens on the headmaster’s desk spinning in a complex dance. “Alexandra!” he barked. Alexandra smirked and let the pens drop. He turned his attention to Chloe. “Yes Cleo,” he said looking disappointed that his next appointment was the girl with the plant thing. “I’ve come to declare my intention for next year,” Chloe said. It was supposed to be her senior year. If she completed it, she’d be employed by the International Squad of Superheros or if she wished to further her studies, would be granted permission to attend the Superhero School for Advanced Heroics. She’d never been told of a third option. She knew if you got kicked out, you got sent to some sort of facility where they would rid you of your power before dropping you back into society. She’d heard it was quite painful but was willing to endure a few hours pain in exchange for a life she was happy leading. “I’m going back. To Newland High School,” she said. “That’s not an option,” the headmaster said silkily, carefully arranging the pens Alexandra had deposited. “You want to be a normie?” she said with a laugh. “Yes,” Chloe said, definitely thrusting her chin forward. “Not an option,” the headmaster growled. “We keep our own with us. Once you’re with us, you don’t go back to them.” “What about the expelled students. You send them back,” Chloe argued. She noticed a ficus tree in the corner cheering her on. Alexandra and the headmaster looked at one another and laughed. “Oh I forgot how naive we all were,” Alexandra said. She turned to Chloe. “They don’t go back.” “What do you mean? Where do they go?” Chloe asked. Only one student had been expelled in the past five years. It happened before Chloe arrived so she’d only heard rumors. Some boy who could fly but who kept invading foreign airspace and almost starting at least two world wars. “They’re dead,” Alexandra said matter of factly. She waved her hands gracefully in the air and spun the headmaster’s photos of his wife and kids in the air. “Alexandra!” he yelped, plucking the picture of his wife on a beach in Bermuda out of the sky. “Knock it off!” She shrugged again and gently set the one with the kids fishing in Lake Tahoe back on the shelf. “You have them murdered!” Chloe said, the familiar tingly feeling rushing into her arms. Behind the headmaster, the ficus stirred. “Not really murdered. I mean, it isn’t malicious. They aren’t cut out to be superheroes and it’s too dangerous to let someone with powers run around in society unchecked. They must be disposed of,” the headmaster explained. “Now tell me again Cleo” “It’s Chloe,” Alexandra corrected. “Cleo’s the one who can shrink remember?” “Right. Chloe. Anyway, Chloe, let’s try again. You’re not our strongest student, but you haven’t royally screwed up international relations yet either. I think you'd be better suited for a career at one of our outposts. How’s the Amazon? Lots of plants?” he grinned. Chloe wavered. The Amazon didn’t sound so bad. It was teeming with life. She could protect it, turn the trees against the people aiming to chop them down. “I could protect the trees?” she asked. The headmaster laughed. “Protect the trees? You foolish girl. Trees don’t need protecting. No. There’s an issue with the natives sabotaging the logging company. We need someone to take care of that. You could be our gal?” he said this like he was offering a rare treat. Chloe stared at him, horrified. She’d have to protect the ones destroying the forests, use her powers to oust the native people and watch the beauty of nature burn. She felt a rise of anger in her chest she’d never summoned before. “No,” she said menacingly. She thrust her hands forward and before the headmaster or Alexandra could react, the fics had locked them both in its leafy branches. Alexandra summoned all manner of office supplies, knocking the ficus with a stapler, stabbing it pointlessly with a mechanical pencil and finally smashing the headmaster’s expensive (and heavy) desk chair against the trunk. Chloe raised an eyebrow. Trees were pretty impervious to being hit with stuff, though it did tend to upset them. “You’re just making it mad you know.” She inclined her head toward the ficus as a way of thanks and marched out the headmaster’s door. “Where are you going!” the headmaster shouted trying to stop ficus leaves from being shoved up his nose. Chloe peered over her shoulder. “The Amazon,” she said with a smirk.


The boy had a pair of eyes of pure mischief and a heart of pure gold. There was something about the 23-year-old Jack that dragged people towards him. He had a spark in his smile and he was more than good-looking. There was nothing threatening about him. Nothing at all. He preferred working smart rather than working hard but he always gets his work done and that ideology of his was what made him oppose his opportunity of taking up his long-lasting family business. Jack's mother was a task manager who decides everyone's direction of life in the family and organized chores of the house. His father did nothing but work. His world lied in his business which was a soft drink manufacturing factory. He had to deal with thousands of workers in a day and he would smile only once in a while and then sink back in his work. His sister was 2 years younger than Jack and was still completing her studies. There was no scope of their parents accepting their daughter to see the world like a man or let her manage any sort of business. So, Jack had a lot of pressure on him to take up something he was not ready to. He just wanted a strong reason to oppose his family and a strong motive to prove himself right. Jack tucked himself into the blanket on his open terrace that night and the sleep pooled on his eyelids. He slowly buried in his sleep. In the middle of the night, Jack felt someone trying to wake him up by nudging his shoulder. He suddenly opened his eyes as if it was an emergency. He rubbed his eyes trying to give his brain a moment to allow his vision to be clear. His brain functioning had stopped at the exact moment when he saw a girl like an angel kneeling next to him and when her eyes met his, she smiled. "Who are you?" he asked with a confusing expression. She beamed a soft dimpled smile. With a voice not louder than a soft whisper "I'm your guardian angel. You people call us fairies," she took his hand and stood up. His stomach did a leap and a twirl all at once. "I'm definitely dreaming!" he said hiding his excitement. He was looking at her flowing black hair and her deep blue eyes. There wasn't anything magical over there like wings on her back or rainbow in the sky or any wand in her hand with a star. Everything was normal and she looked so real, her touch was real and her words were so assuring that Jack started believing her. "Why are you here?" he asked. "I'm here to guide you with your life," she said in a sweet tone. "How did you know that I needed guidance?" Jack said raising his eyebrows. "We don't have the whole night Jack. I'm here to solve your problems and help you decide which path best suits you," she said as if she was in a hurry to disappear. "Yeah! you are right. I need this right now. How can I convince my family that I am not the worthy person to takeup our family business?" he asked without wasting the opportunity he had in his hands. "Why do you think you are not worth it?" she politely questioned him back. "I believe in luck and smart work. I don't want to lead a busy life. I've seen my father work day and night for the business and I don't wanna live such a life," Jack let out his words filled with sorrow. "You are just not interested, Jack. It doesn't mean you aren't worth it. I am giving you a secret mission for your own good Jack. Will you do it?" her words were so manipulative that Jack immediately agreed with her. "Tell your father that you wanna try how everything works in your business and that you wanna take up the business for a month," she said and started walking away. "What after that? What if my father feels I am interested in it? What if this is all a dream?" he squealed while walking after her. She turned back and gave Jack her finger ring. "This is not a dream," she said firmly and "Do what I said. I'll be there for you," she said. "Go back to sleep now," she added. Jack obeyed her orders obediently and turned back to the entrance of the terrace for her trace though he knew that she had already left. He held the ring tight in his palm and fell asleep remembering her beautiful face. He woke up just the way kings wake. He had experienced consciousness and felt blessed by realizing, the ring was still in his palm. His eyes greeted the day shine. His heart and lungs expanded. He welcomed a new day in his life, the anticipation of whatever comes. Jack went downstairs and got himself ready in a decent white shirt and blue jeans within no time. He had his sandwich and juice just in time. He was ready to leave with his father. "I'm gonna join you today. Would that be okay?" he asked his father as soon as he came into the hallway. His father wasn't a fun person but as soon as he heard Jack, he let out a wide smile and rested his hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack knew his father was proud but he couldn't resist saying that he was still not ready to takeup the business and that he just wanted to visit their factory for a month. Jack's father didn't seem to be disappointed. He at least felt happy for Jack taking an initiative and he thought it could be the beginning of something big. Jack's mother, who was looking at all this was overwhelmed with happiness and she packed some extra food for Jack. His mother's love was always a platform from where he could fly to a clear blue sky. It was the first day of Jack at their factory. Everyone greeted him with a lot of respect and admiration which showed how much they adored his father. He learned, he would gain equal respect his father had earned with his hard work. He saw how everything worked and also noticed that some techniques they were using were old but he didn't utter a word. He saved everything in his mind. All he wanted to do was complete a whole month as the fairy had advised and get out of it. He wasn't sure, what he was gonna do in his life if not for the factory. He monitored everything for twenty successful days and he even gave his father rest for a couple of shifts by playing his role, supervising the factory. He felt responsible. He was losing traces of boyhood. Bit by bit he changed tough and matured. On his twenty-first day, he couldn't resist but suggested ideas to his father which he had observed so far. The implementation took a couple of days but that decreased about half the effort and time the workers usually dedicate. All the workers appreciated Jack and his father was tremendously proud. The replacement of the old fashioned equipment was also done under Jack's assistance. Everything was great and Jack felt productive about his work. He now made their factory work easier and less hard-working. There wasn't a night he didn't think of those pretty blue eyes of his angel. He didn't know if it was his league or not but what he knew was, the more he was thinking about her, the more he fell in love with her. He sometimes even felt that he had seen the angel in the broad daylight on the way to their factory. He knew he was falling for her even more day by day. It was the last day of his mission. He saved one bottle of their soft drink whose bottle's design was recently changed following Jack's orders. Jack was unofficially running the business and it seemed like he was already the Chairman. He didn't even speak to his father about anything regarding him taking up the business. He was waiting very patiently for the fairy. He wanted to disclose each and every particular thing to her first. His priorities changed unknowingly. The big night has arrived, he held the ring in his fist same as the previous twenty-nine days and closed his eyes under a sky of perfect midnight. He knew his wait was over when he heard his name in the same sweet tone he was dying to hear for so long. He opened his eyes and bounced immediately to sit parallely to her. "I did it!" he shouted. "And?" she asked eagerly. "You were right. I am worthy of our business," he said. The fairy smiled, "but I don't want to take up our business. I learned about myself in this journey. That is because of you," Jack said, taking the fairy's hands in his. The fairy's expressions showed that she wasn't expecting that. She herself seemed confused. "What do you want to do then?" she exclaimed. "I'm worth more. I am a quick learner and now I know that I deserve more. All thanks to you!" he said handing over the bottle of drink he had saved for her. She politely took it without refusing. "What's your next move?" she asked sipping it. "I want to start my own business," he said. "Then what about this one?" she asked. "I'm going to hand it over to my sister. Now that I have made everything easier, she need not spend many hours in there. I will try to educate my parents about women empowerment and give her a chance to set an example in our society," he said which was quite impressive. "Why wouldn't you want to continue what you are good at?" she asked. "I want to start from zero and prove myself. All the respect and admiration I am receiving now are not my earnings. I want to succeed on my own skills and prove myself to this world," he said in a firm voice. "You look pretty confident," she said by raising her eyebrows for which Jack literally blushed. "What if you fail?" she questioned back, "You are not allowed to re-join your family business. Are you ready to play with these rules?" she added before he answered. "What if I win?" he seemed pretty sure on what he was going to do. "How much time do you want?" she asked. "Three months and your visit once a month," he was clear, "and... I'll ask you what I want once I succeed," he ended the conversation from his end. "Done!" she said and asked him to lie down. He did as she said, and then she placed her warm hand on his eyes. Jack's heart pounded like never before. He could hear his own heartbeat. As his consciousness ebbed, his mind went into free fall. The next morning, Jack went downstairs and knocked on his sister's door. As soon as she opened up, he went in, and they both had a deep discussion for almost an hour. Jack came out and dressed himself up and was having his breakfast when his sister, Judy dressed herself up and joined him nervously. Jack's mother was looking at all of this surprisingly but did not try to interfere in any of it. "What's up with you guys today?" asked Jack's father coming out of his room. "You take rest, today dad. I wanna take Judy with me today. I think that would be fine with you guys," Jack told his parents taking the lenience he had. "I'll come with you What's wrong? Why do you need your sister?" his father bounced back with questions. "I want to show Judy how good I am, dad. Is something bothering you?" Jack said indirectly that no matter what, he was definitely going to take Judy with him. "Fine. You are a grown-up now. I'll let you make your decisions, Jack," his father said with a fake smile. Though he trusted Jack, he was not okay with Judy going out to the factory like a man. According to him, the outside world is where men rule and women 's place in this world is the kitchen and sometimes he would also agree if the word "kitchen" is replaced with "house" in the previous statement. Their father stayed back and these two kids took off to the factory. Judy was very hard-working. She was sincere and bold but never said a word against her parents. She didn't stumble entering the factory. Everything from the way she held herself, to the way she spoke to the factory members, to that look of unassailable confidence in her eye said she could do it. Jack was happy that he had predicted his sister's capability right. Judy even knew how to raise her voice against injustice or wrong deeds. She yelled at a worker on whom her eye fell while he was smoking inside the factory premises. Later went to him and made him understand the scenarios which could go wrong by his deeds. When Jack discussed Judy taking up the factory in the morning, he understood that it was always been a desire to Judy to achieve something as equally as men and that she had always been regretting being born as a girl for not being able to continue the family business. It was dinner time when they reached home. Their father was already waiting at the doorstep. Keeping the three months he had in his mind, he cut everything short and told his father face to face that he wanted his sister to takeup the business and that he wanted to start a new business on his own. "What are you thinking about yourself?" his father raised his voice. "You told that you'll let me take my decisions," Jack pointed out. "How can a girl manage everything?" his father shouted. "Stop this gender-bias dad. She is stronger and sharper than me. Let her takeup the business for two weeks and then let the factory members vote for us," Jack said instantly without any second thoughts. His father agreed as he was confident that a girl could not win over a boy. Parents cannot see the world through children's eyes. Children see exitement and opportunity but they see danger and uncertainity. Jack had planned everything for his business and took a bulk amount as loan from a bank. His father visited the factory often to look at how his daughter was managing everything. He slowly realized that she was no less than his son. Her work had impressed him pretty much, and he started accepting the truth that both men and women must be given equal opportunities. Judy decreased the need of men to their factory by installing softwares which did half of the work and that helped Jack. Those remaining half workers were hired by Jack for his brewing company. Their father was already convinced but the voting system was a formality. The workers elected Judy as their new chairman, and Jack was gifted the big building next to their factory by his father. Everything was going great, and within the next two weeks, the fist production of bottles was ready. It was the day his angel would meet. He knew that he had to sleep for her to arrive. Soon, he was so asleep and so awake in his soul when the fairy appeared. He got up even before she called him. "I did it! I am the owner of Elixir brewing company" he said with pride-filled eyes. "I'm happy you did it. When I made a deal with you, though I knew you would succeed, I wanted you to try harder, so I told you shouldn't go back," the fairy said. "I know! So I win, right?" he waited for her confirmation. "Yes, what do you want?" she asked as if granting a wish. Jack kneeled and pulled out the same ring she gave him and asked: "Will you marry me?". "Don't you wanna successfully sale your products in the market yet?" a voice from behind said. Both Jack and the fairy turned towards the staircase to see Jack's mom standing with folded hands. "Mom! NO, it is not what you think," Jack stood up and was trying to explain. "I know. She is a fairy. Isn't she?" she said suppressing her laugh underneath her words. "How do you know?" he whined like a little puppy. "YES!" the fairy said in between their conversation. "What?" Jack turned to her and asked. "I wanna marry you," she said blushing. "I am okay with it," his mom said from the other side. Jack had no idea what was going on. He stood still placing both of his hands on his head. "She is no fairy son. She is the one whom I selected to get you married to," his mom said. "I'm sorry. I played along. But your mom believed that only something special and challenging could guide you figure out what you want in life," her words showed how sorry she was for fooling him. Jack pulled both of them together and made them stand side by side, right in front of him. "I am angry but do you know who knows me better?" he asked by looking at his fiance. "MY MOM," he said with a smile. "She even knows which type of girl I want. I'm blessed with everything in my life. You two guided me with my life. I want you to do the same whenever I need it," Jack said. Both the beautiful ladies hugged him under the infinite patterns of the stars in the velvet dark sky. "What's your name by the way, Ms. Fake Fairy?" he asked. "Rose!" she replied with shy.


The 'why' is unclear. To humanity, it was the world's greatest accomplishment; they defeated world hunger. Nowhere on the globe did any child go hunger. Food was plentiful for everyone everywhere. To them it was the beginning of paradise. Things were a little different in the unseen world. Angels, demons, and spirits felt the tangible shift in the world. They knew the truth. Humanity didn't defeat Famine; he was murdered. It was ironic in a way. Death was born when a brother murdered his own brother, so it was only fitting that he would do the same. Perhaps Death thought he could save himself by ending Famine, reducing the mass deaths caused by starvation for the slower pull of old age. Perhaps Death was jealous, and wanted Famine's power to himself. Perhaps Death was just that. Death. Perhaps his relationships mean nothing, and he wants nothing more than to kill every thing alive. The why remains unclear. What is clear is what happened next. The remaining horseman, Plague and War, panicked. In a last ditch effort they split up, hoping to escape their mad brother. But Death found Plague, hiding among the filth of an unwashed cult. A battle naturally ensured, but Plague was never a fighter. He tried to escape, jumping from body to body, and casting vexes as he went. Vexes that didn't even slow the pale rider. By the end of the night, another horseman was dead. Humanity rejoiced. The unseen quivered. They knew what would come next. War wouldn't wait to be hunted and killed; he would challenge Death. And he did. And when Death failed to arrive, War became enraged, and he sent the humans after each other. It was a great war, so terrible and bloody and never ending. War only started the spark, but the humans kept it alive. The war burned for ages, until the prosperity of former generations was forgotten. It was now when Death decided to strike. He found War waiting where he challenged him all those years ago. A small private clearing in the forest with plenty of room to duel. War was in the center of the clearing, sitting on a discarded piece of a turbine. Waiting. It was evident that he had been waiting for a while, as the forestry began to grow on and around him. But when Death came War knew. He called out to his old brother, letting him know he knew he was there. 'You know, I knew it would be one of our own that would kill us all. It takes a horseman to kill a horseman. I just always thought it would be Famine. You know how he gets when he's hungry.' War chuckled at his own joke as Death stepped out from behind the treeline. They were facing each other, Death looking silent as ever and War looking up into Death's eyes. 'You could at least tell me why. I think you owe me that.' 'I think you know.' War's smile dropped. He gazed deep into the abyss of Death's eye sockets and was no longer amused. He stood now, casting off the plants and clenching his fists. 'What of our duty! We have a job to do here. What of that!' To this, Death laughed. It began as a small chuckle, but evolved into full blown laughter. Reflexively, War drew his blade and gun, but Death didn't attack. He instead kept up his unearthly cackle as he slowly circled his prey. The trees above became alive with activity as the animals rushed to escape the Grim Reaper. The grass under him withered and died the moment he touched them, leaving a path of death in his wake. He turned now to address his brother. 'War... Plague... Famine... If you ask me, those are just fancy ways to say death.' Death's laughter sparked again with renewed vigor, but War seethed with rage. He bellowed and rushed Death, firing preemptive shots from his rifle. Death's laughter cut off in an instant as he quickly ducked to dodge the bullets. He tightened his grip on his scythe and rushed his younger brother. Death has always been the faster, but War was the best fighter. He pushed the flat end of his blade toward Death and dodged slightly to the left, deflecting Death to the side. While Death was off balance, War fired again into his back, slaying the pale rider. Death dropped in a heap on the ground, groaning and dissolving before disappearing completely. War was the better fighter, but he didn't fight fair. He groaned and sighed. He didn't want to kill his brother, but he didn't see any options. But that wasn't the only reason he mourned. Now, War was truly alone. There wasn't another soul like him. Not man or devil, angel or other. He always had his brothers. Now he had no one. He cried as he went to grab the weapon of his brother. He picked it up, and struck it into the turbine he was sitting on. He turned around, eager to leave this cursed ground behind. He turned, and stared Death in the face. Death appeared unfazed, as if the battle hadn't begun yet. He gripped his scythe as he had before, and rushed War again. War defeated him again. Until Death rose again, only to fall again. This happened over and over, as War was a tirelessly immortal and Death kept rising again. But just because War didn't physically tire, the hopelessness of killing the unkillable over and over was beginning to wear him down. He stopped after a particular false victory and leaned on his blade, holding his gun at the unwavering Reaper. Death kept walking towards War, until the gun pressed into his abdomen. War looked up at him and Death looked down at him. 'Why keep fighting? I am inevitable!' War knew it. Deep, deep down he knew. Death couldn't defeat him in combat. But Death could keep him here. He could keep him in this hell forever and forever. War didn't want to do it anymore. He didn't want to live like this. He could. But he wouldn't. He dropped his gun, and cast his gaze away. Death made it swift, beheading the horseman. He then walked away, contemplating his next move. And humanity rejoiced.