Alex Lape Reflected Shadows Neil hurried his pace as he strolled down bustling midnight streets of Sacramento, crinkling his nose as the noxious smell of rotten eggs seemed to well up from its sewage system. The meeting spot designated in the text he got couldn’t be three more blocks from the stoplight he had recently passed. A text from none other than his old friend Alphonse somehow managed to strike an ominous sense of dread in Neil, yet he found himself instinctively drawn to seeing what his former partner/handler sought from him. I’m barely even there, and I could already smell the bullshit , Neil silently despaired, taking the foul aroma as if it were a forewarning from Fate itself telling him that the meeting was either a trap or a whole new gateway to chaos in his life. As the oldest heir to his Family’s name, Alphonse exuded an air of overbearing arrogance and impulsiveness that often burdened everyone around him. If Alphonse gave an order, it had to be executed with the utmost urgency unless they wanted to be dealt with themselves. Neil had his fair share of having to make people “go on extended vacation” on Alphonse’s orders. “It seems this city isn’t big enough to keep you hidden forever, after all,” a voice pierced through the raucous medley of sounds that surrounded Neil. A voice that would’ve been comfortably familiar to him, had he not remembered to whom it belonged to and all of the underlying menace it implied. “I thought I told the Family I was out after I left Cleveland and I told YOU not to come find me ,” Neil growled lowly, spinning around to face his former ally, his eyes darting about to see if he could find either an escape route or improvised weapon. “Ah, funny that - cause if ‘I’ remember correctly: WE made a blood pact that makes us closer than family,” Alphonse smirked, his playful yet psychotic gaze seemed fixed on Neil before eventually noticing an open sports bar advertising free wings on game day, “Fancy a drink with an old friend for old times’ sake?” Neil groaned and glanced to his left, feeling for his wallet in case Alphonse was still as notoriously cheap now as he was back then. “Lead,” Neil huffed coldly and followed behind Alphonse as every instinct he had violently tugged on him to get away. “So, why the fuck are you here, Alphie?” Neil questioned with quickly dwindling enthusiasm that would go obsolete, depending on what answer he got. “Do you remember my godsister, Fran?” Alphonse just casually threw out the question as if he were simply skimming headlines in a paper. “Oh, no. We’re not doing this. Thanks for the drink, but I’m out. Goodnight,” Neil stated, getting up from his seat and dusting off as he fished for the last five dollar bill to pay for his lager. But as Neil turned to make his way to the door, a firm vice-like grip seized his right hand. “ I think Fran may be in trouble. I don’t exactly trust this new guy she’s been going around with,” Alphonse admitted with an irritated groan that came out muffled through his teeth. “And what does that have to do with me?Look, whatever happened between me and your godsister happened, alright? She made her choice and I respected that. That’s why when I left your Family, I gave her the space she needed, the space we both need, by moving from Ohio to California,” Neil blurted out exasperatedly, panting as if he were fighting to draw both his air and his emotions back into him. “Are you done? Just hear me out. I know you tried with my godsister, and I know you loved her. I never blamed you for leaving. That’s not what this is about...it’s just...this guy...,” Alphonse’s voice trailed off as he looked desperately out the window. “You don’t trust him, do you?” Neil asked with a more inquisitive tone. “Some things just don’t add up, ya know?” Alphonse sheepishly admitted as his shoulders reluctantly rose and fell as if signaling the wave of regret he felt in letting his cousin go so easily. “What things?” Neil further interrogated his friend, taking a moment to eye the bar to see if he was gonna need another beer for this explanation. “Look, word on the street is - this guy was in heavy with some Eastern Europeans. They even had him on this whole arranged marriage deal and shit. Apparently, he nixed all that when he ran off to be with my godsister. But now....” Alphonse rattled off before sighing and fishing for a cigarette in his right breastpocket. “Now all involved parties aren’t exactly happy and demand restitution. And you’re worried Franceska may be caught in the middle of this,” Neil finished Alphonse’s train of thought as the corners of his forehead began to scrunch up. “All I’m asking you for is to maybe look into this and look out for her. Someone has to- my godsister can be very impulsive,” Alphonse reminded Neil as a waitress went by to ask if they wanted wings or onion rings, which they waved off. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be me. History aside, I left that life a long time ago,” Neil rebutted as he drank his bottle down to its last third. “So, what - we just let Franceska go? YOU let Franceska go? Just like that? I know you, Neil. Our methods may be very different, but I know you. You were always giving your all to protect those who needed it. That’s why for all the shit I gave you, I’ve learned to respect you. ” Alphonse pressed him, his tone more challenging than it was pleading, as if it were a knife being methodically driven in to pry for a response. Outside the bar window, a neon light shone down on the pair, casting a cool, soothing almost mystifying blue hue on Neil while a furious, burning shade of red blanketed Alphonse as his jaws tightened, forming knots on the side. “Alphie...For fuck’s sake, even if I could be there - what do you expect me to do? Like I’ve said a dozen times by now - I DON’T DO THAT ANYMORE. I’m a sales associate at a local flower nursery now,” Neil tried to drive home once again as Alphonse scoffed and looked out the window. “So, is that it? Is that what you wanna do with your life? Spray down flowers for less than twenty bucks an hour? Knowing full well that one of our loved ones, the woman YOU love, can be getting into some deep shit? And if all you can do is sit by, then forgive me for thinking that a ‘Brother’ of mine could actually help me out,”Alphonse sighed, his disappointment plastered plainly on his face as he gathered his things to leave. “Alphie- Alphie, even if I could look into this - how would I even start? I don’t have the same ‘connections’ I did back when I was in the Family,” Neil protested as Alphonse straightened his jacket to leave. “If you were to somehow change your mind and come back to where you belong, every connection and every bit of supplies will be at your disposal - all you have to do is ask,” Alphonse punctuated his final offer by sliding an airline ticket and a calling card towards the middle of the table,”Think it over.” Neill pushed his empty bottle to his left as his eyes fixated on to the materials placed before him. Neil looked up and tried calling out to the man who dragged him into that life, and now sought to drag him back into, but as the door to the bar swung idly - he was gone.


"The pain will finally stop." Goose bumps erupt all over my skin as the cold winter breeze coming in through the bathroom window seeps through the thin linen fibers of my worn out jacket. My teeth rattle frantically within my mouth and my heart weighs heavy within my chest. I rub my hands together in a feeble attempt to seek warmth but stop almost immediately and stumble backwards with a choked sob as the sticky blood on my fingers makes its presence known. "Just do it" I never meant to hurt her. She was never meant to be there. Why did she have to walk into the room and interrupt me? None of this was meant to involve her. Why, why, why? All I needed was a few minutes to myself in silence. Lord knows it is not a lot to ask for but in true me fashion I could not successfully do anything without hurting other people. The deafening silence of the house contrasts comically against the unbearable raging voices in my bed. I know I need to get out. No one will believe that this was an accident. Even if I try to defend myself in court, there is not much hope for a black man who shot and killed a white woman. Foster child or not. I violently hit my clenched fists against my thighs in sheer desperation and pain. The weight of the gun I had fired just moments prior burns a hole in my jacket pocket. I need to get out. Now. I hurriedly grab my phone and keys off the bathroom sink with fiercely trembling hands and take one look in the mirror. I wish I hadn’t because what meets my eyes was something worthy of being in a horror movies. Eyes wide open, red rimmed and dilated along with smudged blood splatters all across the left half of my face is what I am met with when I take a glimpse at my face in the mirror. That’s her blood right there. I quickly swallow the bile steadily rising up my throat at the thought of her blood all over my skin and rush out of the room. My heart beats faster than it ever has had to and my head feels heavy as a million and one thoughts cross my mind at every given instant. I know that I should have ignored the voices whispering and encouraging me to pull the trigger but in the moment it felt like the only option. The gun had oddly felt comforting when I had initially lifted it and pointed it at my head. Every memory of every trial and tribulation had been brought to the forefront of my mind and the pain had taken an all-time high and reached peaks I had not known were possible. My eyes which I could see in the mirror above the bathroom sink had looked crazed so I had shaken my head, took deep breaths and steeled my resolve. I should have known in that moment that nothing would go my way. She had walked into the room and upon realization of my intended intentions had called out my name in utter horror but I recoiled and mistakenly fired the gun at her. It had happened within seconds. She had raised her hand as if to catch the bullet with her frail, tender fingers and when the bullet tore into her flesh her hands feel weakly to her side and she swayed weakly side-ways then whimpered softly and landed on the white bathroom floor with a mighty thud. In that moment she looked so much older, her face looked as wrinkled as a raisin and her chin folded into many layers. Her body went slack as soon as she landed on the ground and the once snow white tiles were very quickly covered by the ever-growing puddle of wine red blood. I shake my head as if to shake off the memory of the events that had just transpired and bound down the stairs as I make a bee-line for the front door. I was sure that the neighbors had heard the earth shuttering boom of the gun shot and called the police. If I wanted any chances of remaining a free man then I had to get out now. I step out of the house and I am immediately slapped across the face by the ice cold fingers of the winter air. I look around frantically and in that moment, the street that I grew up on had never looked more foreign. Across the road I can see the light being switched on in Miss. Lightwood’s bedroom and then shortly after a short figure is illuminated in the window as the tiny woman peaks out of her bedroom window. She looks down directly at me and with a sleep coated voice calls out my name. I bolt. I run until my lungs burned and my throat felt as dry as sandpaper. I had no intended destination in mind but I knew that never again could I return to the house. In fact I would have to leave my small home town and never come back. Running away would not give her the justice she deserved but I know that she would not have wanted me to be put away for a mistake I made in a weak and irrational moment. I look up towards the pitch black star encompassed sky and give a short prayer for her. She was my light and she had been my rock when I had no one else on this planet. Everything good about me was thanks to her but admittedly after I left the army and came back from the war it was hard at times to remember that any good existed. I never meant to hurt her, I just wanted the pain and all the memories to go away. I continue pushing my legs to run faster before I kick a stone on the ill-lit pathway and topple over. I fail to find the strength to push myself up and keep running. Instead I put my head in my hands and cry for all that I had managed to lose within minutes. My home is gone and never again will I bask in her warmth.


THE MAGIC WINDOW (This story is set in earth’s twin planet GAIA 2 which is 800 years younger and is evolving.) That morning the King was holding court when the Prime Minister (PM) said ”Your Highness we’ve got a famous wizard Magi here who comes from a far off land. He will show his prowess.” Magi said “Your Highness I can enchant a window such that a spirit that goes in will attain human form.” The King said “Let us take a practical case. PM you must remember the case of Bez who was murdered but we couldn’t find out who did it. All people who were associated with him are dead. If Magi can pass their spirits through that window, we may perhaps learn the truth.” Magi said “Very well Your Highness. I’ll raise the spirit of Bez by lighting a fire and throwing a special incense into it.” The PM spoke into Magi’s ear saying certain others would also have to be summoned. Magi nodded and said “I’ll also materialize Mini, Roxa and Wizma who were involved in the case.“ Mini was the one who married Bez. Roxa was a competitor to Mini. Wizma was a witch who helped Roxa. Magi asked “Which window shall I use?” The King said “Use that window of the conference hall. From here I can see what all happens.” “Very well Your Highness.” Magi raised a fire in a brazier and sprinkled incense into it as he said his incantations. All on a sudden a spirit which could be seen only in profile went through the magic window and gained human form. Magi in succession materialized Mini, Roxa and Wizma. Seeing the others Bez said “I’m very happy to see you all here. It is as if my life is unfolding.” Mini said “You were a worthless fellow. You married me but played around with Roxa as if she had something else which I lacked.” Bez said “Don’t forget she is around and will answer any points that may come up.” Wizma said “Bez your death caused a furore. So many including me, were questioned a lot by the judge. In fact I was even told I would be tortured if I didn’t speak the truth.” Bez said “Let the truth unfold. It’ll start with me. I was a rich man. I was young and handsome. People said I was the right man to wed Mini who was a beautiful young girl from a noble family.” Mini said “Even before that you handled me. I’m not ashamed to speak the truth. You started by flicking flies off my body in a friendly way .I got excited when you applied extract of flowers over my bosom. I had asked you to do it again. Once you did that it wasn’t long before you made full use of my bosom. I was so thrilled that I gave you room to fondle the remaining feminine asset.” Bez said ”Didn’t I praise them? And you gave me licence to go all the way.” Mini said “I was a fool. I allowed you to cast aside my pareyou. Then you invaded me.” Roxa said “Mini, he not only did it to you. During the spring festival we women danced. At that time Bez fondled all the women including me.” Mini asked “How did they allow it?” Roxa said “He wasn’t yet married then and each of the girls thought he would choose her. We women can interpret the touch of a man. Bez influenced many women and fondled them at ease.” Mini said “Then came my marriage to Bez, He was a good husband. In bed before he began to toil he would say keep talking to me. I would talk to him about everything and it would be a long talk before he finished. Then you came into the picture. And he went sniffing after you. I again ask what have you got that I didn’t have? He would admire my ardour in bed. He can’t deny it.” Roxa said “I wanted him to take me also as his second wife. He said he was considering it but in the meantime I heard you were in the family way and was furious. When he came to me I did all I could to see that I also got into the family way. I contacted Wizma and she gave me medicines for me to conceive. She even gave me....” Wizma said “I’m an apothecary and had rendered all help I could. Some of the medicines I gave had multifunctions. Why reveal it all now?” Roxa said “I want the truth to be known. When I asked Wizma for help I didn’t know what she would do. She got Bez to meet her in secret and told him about what I had wanted her to do. At that time Wizma was living alone near the river. Bez later told me about the snake. She had a very good figure. She was young. May be she wanted a child through him. He told me about the snake and snake catcher.” Bez said “I gave you no details.” “Can I not guess what happened? She must have left something to boil on the oven and when there was some noise she must have rushed into his arms seeking safety from the snake she had seen in the vicinity and which, according to her, was waiting to be caught by the snake catcher. Once a woman falls into his arms, Bez would waste no time. Her pareyou will fly up or out and he would access all of the woman.” Wizma said “Roxa is a brazen hussy for speaking openly about lovers and their doings.” Roxa laughed and said “It applies to you also. You bedded Bez. Anyway Mini was the lucky one as she was pregnant through him. Wizma, you were barren.” Wizma was furious and said “Don’t say that. Just one or two encounters with a man isn’t enough for pregnancy.” Roxa laughed and said “Whatever it is, Mini delivered a son and was soon again in the family way.” Mini said “Roxa, that is true. Not knowing the full facts, you quarrelled with Wizma about her not heeding to her requests.” Roxa said “That doesn’t matter. In the end Bez was killed and nobody knows who the killer is.” Bez said “I must fill in some details. Wizma did come to me and gave me Roxa’s plan about harming Mini and her fetus. When she approached me I must talk in the superlatives about the time she gave me. Much better than Mini and Roxa.” Roxa asked “What prevented you from taking Wizma also as your wife. Our law allows it and you were quite rich to afford another wife.” “Actually I had been thinking about it. But meantime Wizma gave me a medicine to make me more vigorous. I blindly swallowed it and I was gone.” Wizma said “I gave you the correct medicine but the roll which you took was poisoned. The roll had been substituted.” Mini asked “Who could’ve done it? Somebody else, who had access to your bedroom! I know you had accessed her in our home.” Bez said “Just as I had thought! It was Roxa. She killed me.” Mini and Wizma immediately rushed towards Roxa saying “We’ll kill you.” Magi’s magic window seemed to be closing and all in the room rushed out to become spirits again. The King said “Well done Magi. PM, reward Magi with 10 pieces of gold.” END NOTE: PAREYOU is the single garment worn by all on the islands of that planet. *


I read the email once. Or... maybe twice? Or maybe I am just staring at the words for a while. I close the tab and take a deep breath, reaching for my coffee. It’s cold, I think. Nelly must have picked it earlier today. My gaze falls on the papers stacked carefully on the right side of my office; the cases for today. Five folders. One is bigger than the others. That’s because I’ve been working longer with this client. He is scheduled for 9:00 am, I remember scheduling the appointment with him last week. He came right after Oliver left. “Ms. Hudson, I just got the email and-”, Nelly stops in her tracks, her voice softer now. “Are you alright?” I hadn’t noticed the tear, that had now fallen on our 9 o’ clock patient’s folder. I simply close the dampened papers and smile at her with glassy eyes. “Well, you know how those things are. You are always prepared for these incidents, but that doesn’t make it less difficult to process.” I shift in my chair, fidgeting with the hem of my jacket. “You sound calm, but your actions suggest otherwise.”, she nods at my hands, a smirk ghosting her lips. A small laugh - that I much needed - escaped my mouth, letting more tears fall from the sudden movement. “Trying to psychoanalyze the psychologist, young apprentice?”, I tease her. Standing from my chair to get a tissue, I feel her eyes narrowing down my movements. “To answer your previous question, no. I am not okay, but I’ll manage. These things happen.” I turn my back on her and fix my eyes on the view outside the window. “You can’t hold yourself accountable for them.”, I whisper to Nelly. Or to myself. My first client came and left. So did the other four. Despite my emotional state, this is work. It always has been. The sessions were all promising for each patient and the same program was scheduled for next week. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”, I smile sadly at Nelly. “Yeah, tomorrow...”. We leave the office, both fully aware that tomorrow we are not going to see each other at work. After putting my son to sleep - with extra hugs and goodnight stories - I feel strong hands wrapping around my waist and a head resting on my shoulder. “What are you doing spying on our boy?”, I chuckle at his joke, but the smile didn’t quite reach my ears. “I’m just watching him sleep. Dream. Breath.” He turns me around slowly, making me face him; my beautiful husband. His hands move to cup my face, his thumb drawing small circles of comfort and love on my cheek. A sigh leaves my lips and I kiss his hand. “Come on.”, he whispers softly. “Let’s get you to bed.” I didn’t exactly sleep. I didn’t sleep at all actually. Of course, I told Alex what happened and he made sure to comfort me in ways only he could. But I guess that worked temporally. In my dreams, all I could see was him. No, them. The first time we met. I hold myself back to not fangirl over his- their hoodie and instead saying “Let me guess, ‘You are Chandler and you’re making awkward jokes when you’re uncomfortable?’”. It was all I needed to break the ice with them. You need that with teenagers. They didn’t share much at first. They had humor and that was very helpful. It’s always beautiful for a therapist to watch someone slowly open up. To notice how in each session people walk out as in someone pulled a little more weight of their shoulders. But we do know, as therapists, that most of the times, things will get worse before they get better. Some manage to pull through. Some not. I’m thinking all of that again here, now. The atmosphere is heavy. As if the weather knows, it started drizzling ten minutes ago. There are so many people in the ceremony, all holding their umbrellas and wearing big sunglasses. Even though there is no sun. I get it. They cover the pain. If one of us see the pain in the other’s eyes, we’d get physically hurt. I don’t believe in the whole be-strong-and-tough-with-no-emotions act though. This is the time, in a ceremony like this, that society lets people to mourn. To feel deeply. To say goodbye. But, saying goodbye to such a young soul seems unfair. No one wants to say it. Their family are shaking everyone’s hand and thanking them for coming. Until I reached them, my heart was racing a thousand miles per hour. A tiny part of me was still afraid, that they were going to blame me, even though they made it very clear they didn’t, when they invited me yesterday. I wonder, if that fear is, because I blame me. I stand in front of them, looking at a pair of very tired people. Tired from sleepless nights. From crying. From wondering if they did something different, maybe they could help him more. I try to speak and my throat closes. I desperately want to say sorry. But I mustn’t. It is not my fault. Instead, I manage to say “I’m so sorry for your loss.” with a shaky breath. Suddenly, the mother leans forward and hugs me tightly. Lovingly. “Thank you so much. You helped him... them, as much as you could. Never - ever! - let yourself think differently.”, she whispers. I can hear my heart shutter. Correction; I can hear it gluing itself back together. Maybe it was the words. Or the hug was so tight that she fixed it. I hug her back, professionalism leaving my mind immediately. All that was left was me, her and the care we had for them. Finding Nelly in the crowd, we decide to stand together for a while, all the other people going to the coffee house across the street. The rain had stopped now, the scent of wet grass everywhere. The stone in front of us looks heavier than the others around us. It feels like I carry a small part of it. “Do me a favor, Nelly, would you?”. My young assistant nods gently at my unmoving gaze. I can’t stop looking at their name. “Schedule me an appointment with Dr. Lang. I ... I need a session.” “Of course.”. She pulls at her phone as I make my way closer to the gray stone. “Goodbye kid.”. I brush my fingertips over the engraved name; Oliver / Ver Mathews.


#Welcome to the Micro Monday Challenge! Hello writers! Welcome to Micro Monday! I am excited to present you all with a chance to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic? I’m glad you asked! Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I’ll give you a single constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. It might be an image, song, theme word, sentence, or a simple writing prompt. You’re free to interpret the prompt how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.** Remember, feedback matters! And don’t forget to upvote your favorites and nominate them via message here on reddit or a DM on discord!   *** #This week’s challenge: **** *Additional Bonus Constraints (worth 5 pts): Includes a flashback or memory.* This week’s challenge is to use the above image as *inspiration* for your story. You may interpret the image any way you like, as long as the **connection is clear** and you follow all sub and post rules. You do not have to use the entire image. You can use any part you like (i.e. the colors, the subject, the setting, etc.) The bonus constraint is not required.   *** #How It Works: - **Submit a story between 100-300 words** in the comments below, by the following Sunday at midnight, EST. No poetry. - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and rankings. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post exclusively. - **Come back throughout the week, upvote your favorites and leave them a comment with some actionable feedback.** Do not downvote other stories on the thread. Vote manipulation is against Reddit rules and you will be reported. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Please be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here, as we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. - **Send your nominations for favorites each week to me, via DM, on Reddit or Discord by Monday at 2pm EST.** - If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail. *Top-level comments are reserved for story submissions.* - And most of all, be creative and have fun!   *** #Campfire and Nominations - On Mondays at 12pm EST, I hold a Campfire on the discord server. We read all the stories from that week’s thread and provide verbal feedback for those authors that are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. You don’t even have to write to join in. Don’t worry about being late, just join! Everyone is welcome. - You can nominate your favorite stories each week, by sending me a message on reddit or discord. You have until 2pm EST on Monday (or about an hour after Campfire is over). You do *not* have to write or attend Campfire to submit nominations!   *** #How Rankings are Tallied Rankings work on a point-based system. Here is the current breakdown: - **Use of Constraint:** 10 points - **Upvotes:** 5 points each - ***Actionable* Feedback** 5 points each (up to 25 pts.) - **User nominations:** 10 points each (no cap) - **Bay’s nomination:** 40 pts for first, 30 pts for second, and 20 pts for third (plus regular nominations) - **Bonus:** Up to 10 pts. (This applies to things like bonus constraints and making user nominations)   *** #Rankings: This Past Week - - Submitted by u/katherine_c   - - Submitted by u/katpoker666   - - Submitted by u/Zetakh   - - Submitted by u/stickfist   - - Submitted by u/GingerQuill &nbsp’ - - Submitted by u/ispotts   - - Submitted by u/Dewa1195   *** ###Subreddit News - Try your hand at serial writing with - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


It was a hot day, but not unusually so for the middle of spring. The citizens of the small town of Bael went about the normal routine of their lives. This consisted mostly of farming, hunting in the nearby woods, and generally keeping to themselves. The people of Bael owed allegiance to no matriarch, were part of any kingdom, nor did they have any roads or marked paths to their little town. They simply lived and wanted to be left alone in their own little paradise. The self-isolation of Bael went on for so long that the town was eventually forgotten by the outside world. And that was just fine with the town of Bael, who although forgotten, did not forget the world outside of it. So when Beau stepped out of the edge of the woods and into this village that time seemed to have forgotten, to say he was surprised would be a gross understatement. At first Beau thought that he had somehow wandered into a renaissance fair, but that did not make any sense. He had gotten lost in the woods, dozens from even so much as an access road. It did not take long for the locals to notice Beau. One by one, they all stopped what they were doing and stared at him with solemn expressions. “Uh,” Beau began, “I’m sorry but I got lost in the woods and I could use a little help.” The locals continued to stare at him, and Beau began to feel uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Beau began to back away towards the forest. “Never mind, I can see you are all busy. I’ll just keep tracking along.” Beau almost made it into the woods before an older man stepped forward and beaconed him back. “Wait,” the old man yelled. His appearance was a bit cleaner than the other townsfolk, though he had no hair, was missing most of his teeth, and looked like a stiff breeze might knock him over. “Please don’t go.” The old man continued to walk towards Beau as he spoke. “You just surprised us is all. We don’t get many visitors in our isolated community, so when someone walks in through the forest it catches us off guard. Please, come in. We will see what we can do to help.” Beau slowly left the border of the woods and stepped back into the clearing of the town. “That’s okay. I’m... I’m sorry I surprised any of you. I’ve just been lost in the forest for a couple of days and I’m getting a little desperate.” “I understand,” the old man gestured for Beau to follow him. “Come, let’s see if we can get you some food and drink.” Beau walked up to the old man, and then they both walked towards the town. Beau introduced himself, “I’m Beau.” “Aligrax,” the old man dropped his name casually. “That is an interesting name.” “Thank you,” Aligrax said with sincerity. “You are interesting yourself. Those clothes of yours are quite different.” Beau looked down at what he was wearing; jeans, a t-shirt, a button jacket, boots, his cap and his backpack. “Really?” Aligrax nodded. “They’re pretty plain where I’m from.” “As I said, we don’t get many visitors. We’re bound to be a bit... out of touch.” “That’s cool Mr. Aligrax.” “Just Aligrax, will do.” “Sorry,” Beau smiled. Aligrax was very friendly, and Beau began to notice that all the other locals seemed to begin to warm up to him as well. “So, what is this town called?” “Bael.” “Cool name. How long has this town been here?” Aligrax led Beau to an outdoor campfire, sat down on a wood bench, and motioned for Beau to do the same. “I honestly couldn’t tell you.” Aligrax answered. We haven’t had the best record keepers here. Most of us can barely even read, but I know that we have been here for many generations, happy to be left to our own devices.” Aligrax looked over at a woman who was going about her day. “Lilith, could you be a dear and fetch our guest something warm to eat?” Lilith nodded and started to trot off to a nearby house. “Thank you Lilith.” “That’s amazing that you’ve been here for so long. I had no idea that there was any civilization out here.” “Nobody does,” Aligrax sighed, “and that’s the way we like it.” Beau digested Aligrax’s words for a moment, and then grew somber. “Wait... that means you don’t have a way to contact anyone else to help get me home.” “I’m terribly sorry, but that is the case.” Beau shifted uncomfortably on the bench as he mulled that over in his head. “That’s alright, I’ll just have to make my way back on my own.” Aligrax said nothing; he only looked at the flames of the fire in front of them. And then Beau put his hand on Aligrax’s shoulder. “Don’t worry Aligrax, I won’t tell anyone about your little town. I mean, you’re feeding me and letting me rest. You’re basically giving me the best help that you can. Keeping your community secret is the least I could do.” Lilith came back with a steaming bowl and a wooden mug, and handed it to Beau. “Thank you very much miss,” Beau removed his hat before accepting the food and drink. “It smells wonderful.” Lilith gave a sideways glance at Aligrax, and then looked back at Beau with a smile on her face. “You’re welcome?” Her response caught Beau as a little strange, like she didn’t feel comfortable with being thanked. Lilith hesitantly turned away, then scurried off down the dirt road of the town. “My apologies for her awkwarness,” Aligrax mumbled. She sometimes has difficulty doing work that needs to be done. Beau though it an odd comment. Lilith didn’t seem to have any difficulty helping out as she was asked. But this was an isolated village and he had no idea about their customs, so he shrugged it off and began to dig into the food that Lilith had brought him. Beau didn’t know if it was just the hunger, or something they did to prepare the food, but it was spectacular. The bowl of stew was savory and warm. The meat in it was tender and flavorful, and the vegetables in it were a perfect compliment to the smoky flavor of the meat. Beau washed it all down with the cool water in the wood cup. “Thank you for that,” Beau sighed contently, “I really needed that.” Aligrax didn’t say anything. He just looked at the fire with kind of a sad look on his face. “Did I do something wrong Aligrax?” “No,” Aligrax exhaled heavily. “I just sometimes wish we didn’t need to keep the town of Bael a secret from everyone else.” “Aligrax,” Beau put his hand on the old man’s shoulder again, “your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone.” Tears escaped Aligrax’s eyes. “I believe you,” he gently wept. “I’m sorry Aligrax, I didn’t mean to cause you any worry.” Beau stood up and put his backpack back on. “You’ve been such a fantastic help, probably saved my life, and I don’t want to cause you any trouble or grief. I’ll head out and make my way home.” Aligrax nodded, and Beau walked off in the direction Aligrax had led him from. Lilith waited for Beau to get a bit off before she approached Aligrax. “He’s a nice boy.” Aligrax said, to no one in particular. “It’s a shame.” Lilith shook as she spoke. “Can’t we make an exception just this one time?” “You know as I, our lord Bael’s laws are absolute. We are to remain isolated, we are to remain invisible, and nobody can know of our existence.” “He ate the entire bowl, didn’t he?” Aligrax tipped his head, affirming her question and a small sob escaped Lilith. “He’ll be dead within an hour.” “At least it will be a clean death.” Aligrax stood up slowly, letting his back bend and stretch as he did so. “We will need to fetch someone to find the body then, in case he makes it beyond the veil and back into his world.” “You should have kept him in the borders of the village. Bael will not be pleased if he learns you risked our exposure.” Aligrax began to shamble off. “He won’t make it that far beyond the veil in an hour. And I’m too old to care much anyways at this point. I am beyond caring whether or not our dark lord Bael will be happy. At this stage of my life it is enough that I complete his orders, and he has not specifically ordered us to not allow our accidental guests outside of the veil, just that they die before they can share the secret of this place.” Aligrax left Lilith and shuffled to his home. Bael’s laws were absolute, but sometimes it was just so hard.


Hello? Is this 911? I’m sorry, I’ve never phoned before as we don’t have phones in Ancient Rome. A friendly time traveler handed me this device right before we imprisoned him for being an evil magician. I had no idea that if you pressed certain numbers you could talk to people. I just spent twenty minutes talking to somebody named Russell from a place called...Louisville? I have no idea who Louis is or why they named a place after him, but Russell is really having a tough time in his marriage. I suggested that he accuse his wife of being a sorceress and then imprison her, but he said that sort of thing is frowned upon in the future times. Russell did tell me about you and how one may reach out when there is an emergency afoot. I did not perceive there being such an event on the horizon, as I am so beloved, but apparently some have only been pretending to love me while secretly resenting all the amazing attributes I feature. I do understand how preposterous what I am saying sounds to you, 911. To think that a god could be resented by mere mortals simply for being a god. It is unfathomable to myself as well. Were it not for me, Rome would not be nearly as lustrous as it is now. I was the one who insisted on cooking all our meats for three seconds longer, which resulted in far fewer people dying of vicious stomach ailments. And that is merely one example of all the gifts I have bestowed upon my great empire. Hmm? Why, no, I did not start out as a god. You see, when someone is born exceptionally handsome and exceptionally intelligent and people are naturally drawn to them and all that they offer, they evolve into a deity presuming they’re also able to conquer most of the civilized world. I am the only person in history that has ever fit that description, and so, I am the only being that has ever transformed into a god. One would think a god would have nothing to fear, but, you see, I am a special kind of god. A kind of--god among gods, so to speak. That means that, sadly, unlike other gods, I could potentially be destroyed by mortal men. Not mortal women, of course, they have no capacity for destruction. The most they can do is beat at your chest with their little hands and then fall to the ground exhausted. Those poor, sad, females. The men, however, have been known to betray even those they once loved the most, and I fear that is what’s happening now. I was just getting ready for work when my wife informed me that she had a terrible dream that I would be slaughtered like a time-traveling magician if I left the house today. Oh, she did beat at my chest with those little hands and then fell to the floor, and I immediately stepped over her, because you cannot indulge such histrionics, but now I am standing at the door, and I fear she may be onto something. You see, 911--a strange name by the way--I have this strange pain in my-- What? A number? 911 is a number? Then why are you not called CMXI? Have people in the future forgotten how to count? How are you meant to assist me if you do not even know how to count? I was saying that I have this strange pain in my chest. A pain I normally only get when someone is attempting to kill me. I felt it quite often as I was waging war and enslaving innocent people everywhere. There was more than one assassination threat over the years, but I haven’t experienced anything like that since returning home safely and announcing my infinite tenure as Supreme Leader. People were so relieved to hear that I would be ruling forever. Any violence that may have been wished upon me was instantly quashed by the love a citizen has for his leader-turned-unstoppable force. Now the pain is back. Is my life in jeopardy? Can you help me, CMXI? If you are in the future, you must be able to investigate the past. Do you know what happened to me? Simply look up “Caesar” in whatever scrolls you have there. It’s spelled C-A-E-S-A-R. Some people spell it C-E-A-S-E-R, and I usually have those people killed. Does it tell you my fate? ......What? Oh that sounds...very unpleasant. And how many did you say--All of them? ALL? Even Bru-- Wow. Wowwwwww. That is--Are you sure, because Bru-- Oh. Oh wow. Like I make a comment about it and everything? And he still goes ahead with-- Wowwwwww. Now I wish I could go back in time and uninvite all of them to my birthday festivities. The audacity of those Senators. To murder their leader right there on the floor! Everyone knows if you’re going to stab someone, you don’t do it on marble. It could stain! Well, the amusement is going to be squarely placed in their laps, because now, for the first time in my life, I shall listen to a woman. I shall stay home today and...do what men do when they do not go to work. I shall eat some sort of soup and watch as two of my servants play a game wherein they try and guess how much soap costs. Thank you greatly for your insight, CMXI. Had I not spoken to you, I would have made a grave error that may have thrown an entire empire into chaos. Nothing good can come out of such bloodshed. That is why I shall refrain from being murdered, and send my guards to the Senate to murder everyone in sight. I won’t bother telling them to only kill the Senators since one or two may be out of uniform. Better to simply kill off the entire block. Maybe two or three blocks. A square mile? I just think one can never be too safe.


\- TAKE A LISTEN! We saw it in the gutter. There was almost half left. Our gang, three brothers and me, had been searching the streets and alleys for at least an hour. I was the youngest at five. The brothers ranged from six to ten. They were rowdy and were leading me toward something, although not illegal, something that I knew could get me into trouble. We had money, all of us. I had a penny, and they had around ten cents among them, so there was no need to steal. We could buy what we needed at almost any store in our small town. I was sent in. I gave the proprietor my penny and asked for one pack of....matches in a box. Yes! We were about to smoke any cigarette butt that had even a little life left in it. At times, we would even light the match and put the dry end in our mouths for a couple of seconds. I Did That! When we were young we often bought candy cigarettes and bubble gum cigars. Now, my parents did not smoke, and I don't know about the other boys' parents. No one in town had a television, but there were two movie theaters that showed old movies from the 1930's. There were many old westerns with stars like Tim McCoy, Bob Steele, Lash LaRue, and the Durango Kid. We didn't even know what a first-run was. Almost all the movie stars smoked, so we thought we could too. This was just after World War II. We saw lots of reels showing soldiers smoking. It seemed the thing to do. We eventually got the stub lit, and each of us took a puff. I did not inhale, and I doubt that they did either. I guess it could be like the young boy of the fifties hiding a Playboy book under his bed, or a hippy of the sixties trying his first joint. It was just getting away with something. I only did it that one day, but I didn't like it. Even now, I can't believe *I Did That.* My second encounter with smoking was around 1961. I was a sophomore at one of our local junior colleges. I was on the varsity baseball team but wasn't a starter until the second half of the season when our all-star center fielder failed a class and could not play until the next season. Most of the players were 1-2 years older and much bigger than I was, but I held my own. Now, I was one of the guys. One day we had a late game and a few hours to kill. One player said he was going into town to get something to eat as there were no fast food places at that time. He asked me and four others to go with him in his Oldsmobile. Our college was in the hills with winding roads and sharp curves. I was in the middle in the back seat. Just after we started, he gave a cherry flavored cigar to everyone in the car. Everyone lit up as did I. They smelled great. I took a couple of puffs without inhaling and knew I didn't want any part of that cigar. I gave it to one of the other players. All of them puffed and inhaled and exhaled as our driver sped at around 50 miles per hour through the hills. The tires squealed, and I remembered that I had retreads on my Studebaker. I hoped he didn't have retreads because they had a tendency to come apart. The car filled with smoke. It looked like Cheech and Chong's movie "Up In Smoke". The driver was holding his head out the window to see where he was going. Los Angeles was never that smoggy. I could barely breathe and thought we might crash at any moment. I thought I was about to die! I never went with them again. But, I Did That! *Once*! My last attempt at smoking happened during my first year of graduate school. I was working a late shift at a Safeway store where I was a clerk. It was close to midnight when I finished work. The drive home was about 30 minutes. It was around 65 degrees, quiet, and I had my new beautiful, alpine white, four-year-old 1958 Chevy Impala, a 2-door hardtop that looked just like the one in the movie "American Graffiti". After I counted out my store register, I put 25 cents in it and took a pack of cigarettes. It was a nice night and with a long ride home and the A.M. radio playing music, I decided to have a smoke. I started driving, took out a cigarette, lit it and tried to smoke. This did not work out well. I puffed a few times and some ashes appeared at the tip. Everything seemed great until the ashes dropped between my legs and onto my beautiful seat. Luckily, there were no other cars out at that time as I looked down and frantically brushed the ashes off the seat. I probably was swerving. That was it. Out the window went the cigarette followed by the rest of the pack. Last try at smoking for me. Yes, I Did That! I didn't think that maybe some other 5-10 year old might find the whole pack the next day. I am so glad that I failed at smoking. I often think about how much it could have cost me: the price of cigarettes, smelly clothes, new car seats, bad breath, my health. Two puffs on a cigarette butt at age five, a couple of puffs on a cigar, and a puff or two on a cigarette that could have burned a hole in my Impala's seat and that was the sum total of my smoking thrills. Had I continued to smoke, I may not have been able to tell my story.


In cold and reckless dreams, I wandered, searching for the old spirit - he who comes in the night. Twisting and turning through fallen branches I came to a grove where a great and resplendent light emanated. This voracious light spoke to me and said, “You have searched for me and your quest is done. At the rising of the sun and the morning prayers echoing through the woods, the birds will sing their song under a gentle brittle rain, so too, like the transient rain will you fall and be buried in the Earth. Worry not, kind soul, just as the rain, you will serve another purpose in the service of the Earth” It was a rather unfortunate thing to know but one has no control over such events. When the time has come, your race to be run, what else can be done but accept such news with grace? The light hovered and closed the distance between it and I, and in its hallowed waltz, approaching me, it said, “You have been a kind soul and for your kindness you will be granted a wish before you are set to pass. Before you dissolve into effervescent bubbles and are one once again with the magnanimous universe, to nourish and continue its existence, make your wish.” “I wish for only one thing. I wish to see what will be done with the greatest gift I can give after my passing: my body. Show me my legacy and how my fine instrument will be used” Since my request was a simple undertaking of observation (and most people ask for much stranger things at the appearance of this spirit) my desire was granted. This was an age of vast and ambitious medical undertakings. Before, we gave our hearts and kidneys, hoping it would be a match. Now there was no limitation. Before the decomposition of our bodies, everything was extracted and redistributed into the world. As was the case with my body, everything indeed was extracted, from the last strand of hair on my head to overgrown fingernails on either hand, nothing was wasted. “Very well then, what shall become of my hands, oh great spirit?” “I will show you” The sacred grove turned to darkness and we were taken to a gray and unforgiving building, far away into lands unknown to me. It was a factory, the arm of a productive economy. Inside was potential yet unachieved, forced to labor under the harsh and cold boot of subsistence. The little ones worked away, tirelessly, making, crafting, using their nimble fingers too old and worn for their age, the fruits of their labor exploited by the men in suits far away in a land more known to me. A girl had been working under the peering lights late into the night and at the tender age of nine was the sole provider of her family. She worked hard and after so many excruciating long nights, now her tired eye lashes struggled to keep apart, they longed for the embrace and the darkness and rest, but she tried to soldier on. Under the watchful eye of the wealth of nations, through gritted teeth and worried scars, she inevitably fell into a bitter and tragic sleep. Her hands drifted and slipped under the cold machines, unaware of who was friend or foe, and chopped up her working hands, those providers. I saw it all unfold while the spirit stood behind me. I saw when the box came. I saw when my manly hands from thousands of miles away arrived. She was one of the factory’s best employees and for her productivity she was rewarded. She leapt for joy, exalting in the labors of modern medicine, and believing in magic. She tried on my light brown hands, they fit like oversized gloves and the color did not match for her skin was pale always under the roof of these blinding lights. What was once mine now belonged to her. So, at least, it seemed, they would make better the life of one soul on Earth. The spirit bade me to leave, to move on to the next place, the next sacrifice of my body, but I stayed. When those men, the landowners, the exploiters saw she was once again fit to work, they wasted no time in placing her back under those toiling lights. The girl accepted, for what other life had she ever known but this one? The burden was placed once again on shoulders too young to be expected of such mighty feats, but still she soldiered on. How long would she stay, imprisoned in such a place, despite these miracles of modern science, I asked the spirit. It turned its light away from me and left the place, beckoning me to follow. Perhaps if spirits could weep, the light of this spirit would dim, and tears would replace light from its wise and all-knowing skin. Now we were taken to a busy street corner, a modern metropolis, a beating heart, fastidious, fast-moving, demanding, a soulless colorless corporate place which was sometimes called the central business district. It was my eyes which had now been given. The gift of sight! What a privilege to be able to see the delights of this Earth. To be able to feast on the magnificent colors, the sublime shapes and figures of this earth was certainly one of this land’s most noble pleasures. What now, would my eyes be used for? It seemed that the powers that be, that representative kleptocracy, had purchased my gift of sight. They placed them under this busy street corner, during the day it kept a playful eye over the men and women in the bars, and the street performers singing their merry songs. Here were also the banks, the agencies, the places the men in suits called home, tipping the scales ever in their favor. When night came, my eye was no longer playful but watchful, surveyor of the night. Those who came during the day to enjoy the city, now had their homes, their four walls and warmth under roofs. The eye that was taken stood watchful, now looking at those unfortunate souls, those with downtrodden luck, who called the corner stores and sidewalks their homes. All their belongings fit into paper bags and they set down their blankets on the hard cement, huddling together behind the giant towering buildings. The eyes that were taken alerted their system and the men in blue came with their blaring sirens and their metal sticks, defenders of the law. Whose law where they defending? They came unto those street dwellers and said, “You have no right to be here”, and moved them along with their heavy menacing badges and corrupted hearts. “Where then can we go?” they asked. “Anywhere but here. Amongst the civilized, you are not welcome”, the message was clear. So, I had given my eyes for this? I had gifted the wonderful miracle of sight to those who were most blinded of all. The spirit beckoned me forth to the next place. I was taken to a reflective and discreet place full of glass casings and showrooms. It was to my horror that I saw, in the casings, were displays of human skin, some of it my own, on full display. Now, humanity has conquered the visible effects of aging. There she was, the old woman, that crow, picking out a suitable skin to replace her own. Perhaps, I thought, skin could be used for those who suffered burns that scarred them irreparably or to those who had skin conditions that worsened their quality of life. But no. The economy serves the highest bidders. And now, the woman felt the different textures, stroking the fibers of skin, deciding which would match her own, with no respect or understanding of the death that had come before to please her earthly delights. That is the sickness - greed. A greed that comes to those with money and power, a disassociation of reality. She saw my skin and picked it from the shelf. The old woman who defies the laws of nature, who values nothing but her own gain, felt her decrepit spoiled skin against the youthful pleasant stolen treasure and was happy once again. Now the spirit took me a desert field, an army barracks, the sandbags riddled with bullets and the sad mixed with blood. A lost young fellow, fighting in the war, the battle that held no meaning except for that greed. Not for heroism, not for liberty or freedom, nor for the rights of peoples, no admirable values, but more human greed, that desire for excess. He had lost his foot on patrol in the village that was not his. An explosive was left planted in the ground by those evil owners, those who occupy this land. How dare they resist our peaceful occupation of their land, he must have thought. Now, his misunderstanding compounded with anger by his brutal amputation, I saw how my foot was carried over to the man and placed neatly on the stump and how he was whole again. A foot regained to wage more war. The war he enlisted in, not for values, but for subsistence, and now corrupted by state lines and old men that died hundreds of years ago. That man went on to kill many enemies, win many medals, and celebrate many victories for his country’s conquest, all thanks to my amputated foot. I had been completely torn apart, turned to scraps, shipped into neat boxes all over the world, and now discover that my legacy was for the evil of the human will. I saw what had been done with my body and could not help but weep. What wonderful things could have been done with the gifts I had to give but where now so terribly corrupted. I wished to see no more, Oh Spirit, I said. Take me back and let me die now, for there is nothing else to see. I know now the legacy of me, and I shall weep and wail to know what will become of humanity.


The Morphing Manipulators A terrific bright light lit up my bedroom as I slept in bed. It was a summer sunrise around 6.a.m. I should've drawn the curtains before going to bed. But, wait a moment! I never draw the curtains before bed, because I’m up twenty-two storeys. More importantly, there never Is a sunrise on this side of my flat anyway. Just how can this be? The sun always rises on the other side of my flat, where the living room is, northeast. And my bedroom is in the northwest direction! "Am I losing my mind? Anyway, I will not let this weird thing spoil my weekend break from my job as a freelance photographer. It’s such a lovely day I am going over the park. I plan on enjoying it by chilling out. With the park only less than a mile away, I decided to walk it. As I got to the entrance, I spotted an elderly lady acquaintance walking her dog. ”Hi, Mary. Is this your new dog?” I asked curiously because she was walking a Chihuahua instead of her little Scotch Terrier. “No, silly! you know I always walk Sadie over the park!” I decided not to argue the point. There was no way I would win this argument. “What’s wrong with you today, Pat?” “I’ve been taking her over the park for a good four years now.!” She snapped. With that, I walked on sheepishly. I was so sure Mary’s dog was a Scotch Terrier! I pondered on how weird the day has been as I continued walking over the park. After walking for some twenty minutes, I came up to the pond and went to sit down on a wooden bench. Looking up, I saw an aircraft and heard its jet engines roaring. But, It seemed to be frozen In the air... “WTF!” I shouted. Some twenty seconds later, the plane started to move again. Now I was getting worried for my sanity. Shortly before this, I was wondering if I may be suffering from dementia. But at the age of thirty-five, I would think It unlikely. And to see a plane stuck in the air Is another story entirely. Indeed, Maybe I have a mental imbalance; whatever it is, I don’t like it. As I stared out to the pond, I noticed something else unusual I had never seen before at the pond. I was getting angry as I saw two pink swans; someone must have painted them. Why would anyone do that? As I made my way out of the park, I commented to an elderly couple how terrible it was that someone would paint two swans pink! They stared at me, then looked at each other, and laughed. “What did I say funny?” I thought. I just wanted to get back home and get this day over with, the weirdest day of my life! After arriving back home, I thought I would google some things on my laptop. So I googled swan images, and some websites came up with swan images; every image showed pink swans! So I put up a standard colour for an adult swan it said - “pink!” Now I was unnerved. There was no such thing as a white swan. Now for the biggie. I googled ‘What direction is sunrise in Britain in the summertime?’Answer - northwest and set in the northeast. But how can this be? I always thought it was the opposite. “How could I possibly make such an error as that?” I learned this from an encyclopedia from the age of nine, some twenty-one years ago. How can I suddenly not know this now? More to the point, how can the sunrise physically change its position after all these years? I started to think, just what else has changed that I don’t know? Just then, the phone rang. “Hello, is that Ryan Gibbs?” “No, Mate, you’ve got the wrong number!” “Who the hell is that?” I pondered!” After such a trying day, I gathered up some goodies to nosh, ready to watch some television. Sitting on the sofa, I prepared to switch on the TV to watch some comedies. But, just as I grabbed the control box, It felt warm and clammy, and my heart began to pound as I felt static electricity run through my left arm, which then faded after a few seconds. Soon after, in front of my eyes, the box began to morph, making me jump and dropping the control on the floor. After that, the control changed from a black rectangle to a red square controller. I checked the control and saw all the buttons were there - standby, volume, same numbers, text, and so on. After composing myself from this inexplicable experience, I pressed the button for my channel. And there was my favourite stand-up comedian. I had loved this guy for around ten years. His brand of comedy was so refreshing and clever he stood out from the rest. So I used to say to my family and friends, just watch some Ben Davidson if ever you feel down. As I eagerly sat with popcorn in one hand and some juice in the other, I nearly choked on a kernel - not only was Ben’s jokes the worst ever, his manner was unrecognisable, and the clothes he wore were also completely different. Finally, the compere said - “Wow wasn’t he good tonight.” Then, “Please give a big hand for - Joey Witson!” I felt stunned as I could feel the blood drain from my face; when I heard the compere give a completely different name to someone I had been watching for ten years, known as Ben Davidson! By now, I had had enough of today and went to bed. The following day, I planned to see my sister, Stacy, who lives in Dagenham. As I sat waiting for my bus, I caught sight of something fuzzy happening to a Jeweller’s sign across the road. The actual letters of the name of the Jeweller, Goldman, were morphing in front of my eyes, the name had changed to Bergman. Just then, my bus arrived. Sitting on the bus on my way to Stacy, I thought about this weird process of morphing and the glitch I saw with the plane yesterday. I have read information about this on the internet. Some say we live in a holographic world, a matrix. I didn’t believe all those videos of morphing and glitches of planes and people on the internet. But, I have no doubt these things are real and scary and are now happening to me! “Oh, there’s my stop!” After jumping off the bus, I walked by some shops and turned into the road where Stacy’s home is. But where is the road? I couldn’t see Elizabeth road anywhere! So I decided to phone Stacy for directions. I had been here so many times; there was no excuse for me not to find the road. “Hello,” “Hi, Stacy, It’s me, Pat!” “ I’m near where you live, but for some reason, I can’t find Elizabeth Road anywhere!” There was a long pause. “I’m not surprised; there isn’t one here, you plonker!” She shouted and giggled. “It’s Queen Mary’s Road, where I live.” “It’s just past the shops on your left.” “Damn, the Morpher strikes again!” This is getting beyond a joke now!” As I turned into Stacy’s road, I checked the road sign, and it had changed from Elizabeth Road to Queen Mary’s Road. Moments later, I knocked on Stacy’s semi-detached home. Shortly after, a large woman with black hair opened the door. At first, I thought I must have the wrong house, but on looking closer, it was Stacy, but double the size of the one I knew, and without her blond hair. I decided to just ride with this and just accept her as she was. I kissed her as I usually did and went inside. Everything seemed normal inside the house until I saw some framed photographs on the mantelpiece. I picked one of them up and could not think who the two people, bridegroom, and bride were. I obviously couldn’t ask Stacy, but luckily she said: “That’s a lovely photo of Mum and Dad, isn’t it?” The weird thing is I had only visited Stacy a month or so ago, and I saw a completely different photograph of Mum and Dad. This couple was taller, larger, and were nothing like the Mum and Dad I knew and loved. I felt heartbroken for a moment, gritting my teeth, not to say anything to Stacy. Finally, after visiting Stacy, I walked to the bus stop to get my bus back home. As I waited for my bus, I started to wonder, “ How come, It seems that only I can see these morphing things and glitches and no one else?” “Am I being punished by God or something?” “It’s all so surreal!” “Oh, no, that is ridiculous!” Suddenly buses came by on both sides of the road. But they were now the colour green instead of red! As my bus stopped, I jokingly asked the bus driver. “What happened to all the red buses then?” He looked at me strangely and said, “I’ve been a bus driver for nearly thirty years, mate, and; we have never had red buses!” That told me. Every day I experience a glitch or morph. I guess. It’s the normal thing now. And I better just live with it like someone with arthritis or something! As the days, then weeks passed, I played a game that every day there will be a morph or glitch somewhere and that because everyone but me seems oblivious to these things I would pretend nothing happened. Then I would quickly re-examine the morph and it is not normal. When I first did this, I noticed a pattern occur; the more I ignored a morph experience, then showed I realised this is wrong, things started to break up. For instance, I pretended not to see a pigeon frozen in flight a few feet away from my balcony. I just imagined this Is normal, then realised it’s unreal, and within seconds, I could see the matrix start to show itself; instead of the sky, part of a grid system shows up. And instead of the pigeon flying away, It dissolved. Like Buddists say, “Self-realisation brings Enlightenment!” So I began to ponder, “what if there were more people like me that realised this world was an illusion?”Imagine hundreds, if not thousands of people, if they realised the truth! Then, the matrix surely would collapse in no time. It was now time to scout for people like me to band together to fight the matrix. Whenever I am out, I will observe anyone see if they are alarmed at seeing a morphing or glitch. If so, then I would approach them. Tonight is a total lunar eclipse, weather permitting; I plan on observing it and trying out an experiment from my balcony. As I observed the moon, It became obscured by the Earth’s shadow, reflecting sunlight onto Its surface, causing it to become blood red. After accepting this as a natural event, Moments later, I quickly looked at the moon in disbelief. Then, I saw the Moon start to flicker as if it was a lightbulb ready to go out. So, then, the Moon is a part of the matrix! “Just imagine what a group of people could do?” I thought, eager to find non-believers in this world. Tomorrow will be interesting as I put this mind trick to effect whenever I see another matrix anomaly. After going to bed, I was awakened by hearing some strange noises in my bedroom; It was 2 a.m; I got out of bed and switched on the light to check it out. Then on the floor, I saw my passport opened. It had changed my name to “Ryan Gibbs!” I was flabbergasted, now the Matrix was making this personal! By now, I was so tired I just wanted to go to sleep. The following day was sunny and beautiful. I planned a photographic trip around the city of London to see and photograph the sights for work. I would also try to take pictures of any morphing I saw. Sadly, I had to travel on those awful green buses instead of the traditional red bus. Finally, I got off my stop and walked along the river Thames. As I walked along the Embankment, some Japanese tourists asked me if I would photograph their little group with their camera; I agreed and thought it would be lovely to photograph them standing close to one of the large Egyptian Sphinx statues on the embankment. When I looked through their camera viewfinder, I felt my heart pound as I saw the Sphynx behind the tourist begin to morph; To my amazement, the Japanese were unphased when they turned around and looked at a large lion instead of the Sphinx! Annoyingly, I was unable to do my mind trick to interrupt the morphing process! Soon after, I went on the London Eye to get some aerial shots of the London landscape. There were only five people in my pod, so I had more space to maneuver for better angles when photographing through the glass. Moments later, the wheel slowly began to turn. I was taking some good wide-angle shots, including the glistening water of the Thames and Big Ben. I took more pictures of Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. Just then, I was focusing on The Houses of Parliament when my camera lens seemed to go out of focus. As I refocused, the landmark was gone! Instead, in its place was a large park, full of trees and what seemed like some monuments. I felt stunned, to lose such a landmark as The Houses of Parliament is extraordinary! As usual, no one seemed to blink an eye. But as I turned my attention to the middle-aged woman, she appeared visibly startled. She had been pointing her camera in the same direction as me. I walked over to her, “It is a bit of a shock, isn’t It?” I said. “Have you seen this sort of thing happen before?” I enquired. She looked up at me and said nervously: “I’m sa, sorry! seen, seen what happened before?” She pretended nothing had happened. She was in complete denial. I tried to coax her: “Listen, you’re not alone; this sort of thing is happening to me every day!” I started to tell her of my experiences. She finally calmed down, told me her name was Sheila, and began to pay attention to me. After we got off the London Eye, we sat on a bench and Sheila went on to describe her second experience of morphing: “It happened a few weeks ago!” She said, “she was about to post a letter into the post box when it morphed into a telephone box.” “People passing by her were oblivious to the morphing. Only she observed it.” She said. I later explained to her what seemed to be going on, all about the matrix. And my plan on gathering as many people as possible who see morphs and how we can fight the changes. We arranged to see each other again next week. When I got back home and rested, I thought about how difficult it would be to beat this morphing business. Then I thought about the Houses of Parliament and just what the consequences would be if the Prime minister and MPs were in the building at the time of the morphing. I switched on the television for the news, and as I thought, It was as if nothing had happened. Later I checked Youtube on my laptop for any morph sightings; my heart suddenly jumped when I spotted a video. Several people in the Scottish Highlands claimed to have seen a helicopter frozen in mid-air for more than thirty seconds; then, it flew away. It seems more and more people every day are experiencing glitches and morphing. People are becoming more aware of this Matrix. After a few months, I had got in contact with thirty people who’d morph experiences. We were going out in groups of six, regularly scouting for new members. And would abort any morphing activity whenever we could. Sheila, me, and four others had discovered a correlation with ley lines and grid lines of the Matrix, and we found a big one where London Bridge is situated. We plan to smash a big hole in the matrix above the bridge. It was a moonless night and a clear sky as we drove in a van to London Bridge. By midnight, a powerful time to work against the Matrix, we scaled up the bridge, and together all of us concentrated our thoughts on the Leyline coordinates. We imagined a hole in the sky, increasing in size. Suddenly there was a burst of light, and we could see a type of electricity around a massive gap. And finally, there above us were grid lines, holding the matrix structure together. We all cheered and got down and back into the van. It was a significant success, and finally, we finished the night off, drinking some champagne at my flat. Sheila stayed a while after the others had left. We chatted about our victory and how everyone did well. Then, I started to feel groggy; as I glanced over at Sheila on the sofa, her body began to pulsate. Then it flickered and started to morph, Sheila or whatever it was started to speak:- “Human, your victory is short-lived, you and your kind can never beat this World of Illusion!” End


Jan 28 1986 Dear Diary, Mommy and Daddy gived me this diary for my birthday yesterday! I am 7 now! I had my birthday party and everyone came but Sammy L. Mommy said that he was sick but I don’t care because he called me the B word at gym class and that’s a bad word so I don’t like him anyway. Dana gived me a Get In Shape Girl ribbon and a book just like hers. It’s my favorite present because I want to be a ballet dancer when I grow up. Today at school we watched TV! I didn’t know they let us watch TV at school! Mrs. Bello said it was a special day because a teacher was going up in space, but it wasn’t a teacher at our school or in our town. Mrs. Bello teached us about space, but I don’t know how people get to go there. Mrs. Bello said that it was a good thing for the teachers to go into space so that’s why we get to watch TV. Mrs. Bello said that she was happy. On the TV show, we saw the space men and the teacher. She looked like Mommy. She was very pretty. Then they got into the space rocket. But then a bad thing happened. There was lots of clouds and fire. Then Mrs. Bello started to cry and we couldn’t watch TV anymore. Some of the 6th graders were crying at recess and some of the teachers were crying too. Brian F said that the space ship exploded and all the people died. I wonder if the teacher died too? Maybe her class will have to get a substitute teacher now. I am sad for her class. Brian G said that he is going to be a space man when he grows up but I am not because it is scary and you can die. I don’t want to think about space ever again. Love, X Nov 10 1989 Dear Diary, Last night I slept over at Dana’s house because we don’t have school today and her dad TOTALLY LET US WATCH MTV!! They didn’t have any videos on though. Dana’s dad said that it was an important day because they were tearing down the Berlin Wall and all the VJs were there to see it. I don’t really understand what the Berlin Wall is. Dana’s grandma is from Germany and said that East Berlin was really strict and bad and everyone wanted to go to West Berlin but they couldn’t. She said that her sister lived in East Berlin and she wasn’t allowed to visit her and that made her really sad. Last year Mrs. Reese told us that President Reagan told the guy in charge of Germany to tear down the wall but then he didn’t so I guess now he did? All the people on MTV looked so happy. I saw a lot of teenagers dancing and waving flags and some of the VJs were crying. It was totally cool and weird. One had a mohawk! I thought about what would happen if they put up a wall in our town and I couldn’t go visit Brad anymore and that made me happy. I wish I had a sister instead. Love, X Aug 27 1990 Dear Diary, Uncle TJ came over this weekend. He might have to go to war. President Bush went on the news and said he's calling up military reserves for a war in Kuwait. Uncle TJ is in the Army but he never went to war before. Dad says that he will probably be okay because he fixes computers and isn't a fighter, but I am still very scared. We started school today. I am in 6th grade. I am in Mr. Davidson’s class. He is very nice. I am excited because everybody says he likes to play pranks on his class at Halloween! Dana has Mrs. Carter. She has Megan B. and Megan R and Tara in her class too. Today at the bus she said she wants to be best friends with them and not me. I guess I hate her now. Amy and Missy played with me on the playground at recess. Missy taught me how to flip on the monkey bars. Frankie got Reebok Pumps! Nobody else has them! Nicky D is in my class too. I have a crush on him but I won’t tell anybody! That would be sooooooo embarrassing! Love, X Jul 6 1993 Dear Diary , Uncle TJ was here for our 4th of July picnic and brought us a computer that he built and guess what?! WE GOT THE WORLD WIDE WEB AT OUR HOUSE! It is like the coolest! There’s this thing called Prodigy that has these things called Bulletin Boards and you can talk to people across the country and there’s all sorts of fan clubs in there...don’t tell, but I talked to people in a Are You Afraid of the Dark board. Mom says I’m not allowed to go on the bulletin boards because she doesn’t like the idea of a teenage girl talking to strangers, but CeCe has been my pen pal for 3 whole years and she was a stranger from across the country, so what’s the difference? Sooooo lame. Dad said that since I am going to start high school I can use Prodigy because it has an encyclopedia, too, and maybe I WON'T HAVE TO GO TO THE LIBRARY ALL THE TIME! Oh! There’s also this thing called electronic mail where you can MAKE UP YOUR OWN NAME!! It’s soooooo cool. Uncle TJ said he’d show us how it works when he comes to visit for Christmas. He said that no one really uses electronic mail so it isn't really a big deal. The best part is that Brad is not allowed to use the computer at all because he’s too young, so he HAS TO leave me alone when I’m using it. Finally! Some peace and quiet! Love, X Apr 5 1994 Dear Diary, Kurt died. They say he shot himself. I can’t stop crying. The world is so terrible and so cruel. - X 1/1/2000 Dear Diary, Y2K was a goddamn jooooooooooke!! The world didn’t end. The computers didn’t rise up and defeat us. Y’know what happened? I got druuuuuuuunk at Emily’s mom’s house and slept in the bathtub. Stupid sheeple. -Yours, X Sept 11 2001 Dear Diary, The world is chaos right now. I’ve found a minute to take a break from it all and write down what has happened, because this feels like everything is on the brink of change. Someone evil purposely flew planes into the World Trade center and the Pentagon. They are calling it an act of terrorism. Our country is about to go to war. It started this morning. Debra who cleans the Psychology building was outside when we got to class. She was freaking out and sobbing and trying to call her daughter on her cell phone, but she said that all the lines were jammed. She told us that someone flew a plane into one of the towers at the World Trade Center in the city, and her daughter works in the other tower. April and I went to class but Professor Jackson told us that he was cancelling last minute so that we could go home and turn on the news. When we got back to the house, Eric had the news on. As we walked in the door, we saw a second plane hit the other tower. The rest of the day is just a blur, to be honest. We’ve been watching the news all damn day. April has been trying to call Vincent for the last 4 hours because he’s working in the city this week. The lines are absolutely jammed. God, I hope he's okay. I finally got through to Mom earlier. She and Dad are fine. They are waiting to hear if they will be evacuated because they live so close to the power plant. Brad is fine, too. The plane that went down outside of Pittsburgh was nowhere near his campus. I am on the back porch now. It is deathly quiet outside, almost as if someone has just hit the pause button on reality. Eric finally turned the news off a little bit ago, because we just couldn’t take it anymore. He’s playing Mario Kart instead. Fifteen minutes ago James asked me to marry him. He is convinced that he’s about to be targeted because of his political beliefs and wants us to flee to Canada. I have no idea if he’s serious. It would be laughable if everything wasn’t already on the brink of insanity. God, I hope we all get through this. I pray and I cry for my country tonight, and I don't even believe in that stuff. With Love and Light, X Mar 24 2020 Dear Diary, I am officially unemployed just like about 80% of the neighborhood right now. This virus has spread very quickly, and we’re now taking precautions. I’ll be honest; I selfishly cried when I closed the shop door today. I'm so thankful that it’s just me; that I don’t have employees’ livelihoods to worry about, but what if the economy takes forever to recover, and I’m never able to open my doors again? Will there ever again be a demand for obscure antiques? Do I have a right to worry when the Abbott Family or the Browns or the Davises depend on every cent they make at their shops? It was a heavy decision, and I worry that we’ll eat through our savings faster than it takes them to lift the quarantine. I worry for Bill, who is forced to go to work every day because he’s “essential” at the hospital, but he keeps telling me that he’s taking every safety precaution. We have been advised not to leave the house unless it is absolutely necessary, which is frustrating when you have such an active child as Barbara. She and I are slowly driving each other crazy, and every time she tells me that she prefers staying at Miss Lindy’s house rather than with me, I die a little. I want to leave the house! I want to just go wander the mall or take Barbara to the playground. I’m anxious that Barbara’s dance recital will get cancelled, and I won’t get to do her hair and makeup. I’m upset that I can’t stop snacking because I’m bored when I really need to drop these last 20 lbs before our beach trip in July...and then I think of what a terrible person I must be to worry about such stupid, trivial nonsense things when there are so many other, bigger things to worry about. I hope this is over soon. I miss normal. I don’t know what normal is anymore, but I miss it. Love, X PS- I’m sending Mae and the boys some money. She is on the brink of losing the house and doesn’t want anyone to know. I hope she doesn’t trace it back to me, though, because she’d be super embarrassed.


5 Diamond Rings Jeremiah “On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings--” “Turn off that awful noise already would you! And stop singing!” I walked across my room and turned off the radio. “It’s called music, and y’know that the song was just ending don’t ya?” “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to hear any more after it. Nona that stuff about snow and it being cold outside. I have to live that as it is.” Sophie’s caught up to her voice as she walked into my room. “Oh no, poor you. You ain’t the only one who has to walk everywhere.” “Yeah, well, you don’t have to get pushed around on your four degree mile walk to work every morning.” Mile? That was an exaggeration. It was more like three blocks. And four degrees? Well, I suppose it was sometimes, and it always was here in December if y’all measure it in Celsius. But who does that? Seriously, this is New York. I’d bet y’all that ninety-seven percent of people here don’t even know what the hell Celsius means. And the three percent that do probably all are Canadians who finally got wise and moved down here. Well, except me that is. And maybe my sister although I can never be too certain what she actually knows or not about practically anything requiring intellect. Seriously, y’all ask her to square the number seven, and I swear she’ll write a 7 with a box around it. But if y’all walk into the room when she is watching TV, she’ll practically start reciting from the beginning nearly an hour ago the entire episode of Ellen about what he said she said. The things people care about. They are so shallow, y’know it’s sad really. I always contemplate for a second telling her that but then think better of it and just mutter to her to stop being so annoying, and I get back to checking the waivers for my fantasy football league again as fast as I can. Josh Allen and Stefon Diggs have really been carrying this year. Ezekiel Elliot has been alright, but he has definitely underperformed, and if I am going to win again this year, I am going to need him to play well for my championship game this week. Anyways, we moved up here from Dallas last spring, so this was our first winter in Manhattan. Although we lived on the outer edge, we were both used to the big city there our whole lives, so the weather has been the only major adjustment recently. But I think it’s a pretty simple solution to just stay inside most of the time. There isn’t anywhere worth going now anyways. I’m off of school on break between semesters now, but all my classes were online this year anyways. “At least you have a job to go to. I’m bored out of my mind.” Believe me. I was. “Trust me, Jeremiah, by the time you get a job, you’re going to wish you never had one.” “Oh, come on! All you do is stand there and look happy.” Not an understatement if we’re being honest. “Yeah, which is really hard when I have to keep doing it all day, and my boss keeps yelling at us and telling us we are doing it wrong.” Sophie hurriedly stomped around the apartment putting away everything she had been too tired to put away after her friends left late the night before. “How hard could it be? Y’all have been doing these photo ops for months now, and y’all two are even dating now. I’ve seen the catalogs, what more does she expect?” “I don’t know, that’s the problem. She says we don’t look like we are in love anymore. Well, sorry, but it is kind of difficult when everyone is staring and judging all the time. I heard that everyone has bets on how long we last as a couple and who is going to quit or get fired or transferred to a different department when we break up. Also, now we are filming a commercial.” Sophie stopped dead in her wake and gave me a look of absolute dread. “Huh, that’s tough, but look on the bright side, Sophie. When Cody does actually propose to you, he’ll know what he’s doing unlike most guys.” As always, it was my duty to attempt to turn around the conversation into at least a somewhat pleasant ordeal. It didn’t really work at first. She just said, “Ha, yeah, that’s some consolation for what we go through everyday.” “It was just a thought. And y’all can’t say that the money doesn’t talk too.” “Well, right now it’s telling me ‘I’m not worth this. Go find a different job.’” “Wait, you actually have conversations with y’all’s paychecks? I think you need to go see a psychiatrist or something.” I couldn’t help but reveal a smirk. “Y’know what, Jeremiah? Just shut up already would you. You’re going to make me late for work.” Oh no, it still wasn’t working, and I could tell I was making it worse then. I made one last attempt. “But we just clarified that y’all don’t want to go there anyways because it isn’t worth it.” “I said ‘shut up,’ Jeremiah. There are a lot of things I don’t want to do like take care of you, but I still have to. That’s just life.” Take care of me? She has never had to take care of me in my life. I was already 15 by the time Dad and Mom died two years ago, and we stayed with our uncle until this year anyways. Or at least I did. Sophie was away at college for most of the time. Texas A&M. Go Aggies. I hardly ever saw her. Now I see her almost everyday in our apartment that she insisted we get together even though she knew I wouldn’t contribute to rent for at least the first year. Getting a job at 17 these days is tough, let me tell y’all. Anyways, I am not always sure which I like better. She sure can annoy the hell out of me always telling me to shut up and turn off my music, but I suppose I did miss her sometimes, especially right after losing Dad and Mom. I try not to think about all that, though, and I am glad to be in New York where no one will ever expect me to drive a car again. Even though she was completely wrong with the part about me, she was correct about life. It really does suck most of the time. So I felt kind of bad I had irritated her more, and I decided she probably still was a little hung over from the night before. Sophie wasn’t the kind of person to be getting pass out drunk, but she developed some bad habits in college after Dad and Mom died, and her new friends weren’t the greatest influences on her either. I couldn’t think of anything good to say to mend what was left of our exchange, so I settled before it was too late to say anything. As she was walking out the door I said, “Hey, Soph, I’m sorry. I forget how hard it is for you too sometimes. I hope your day gets better.” And I really meant it too. Sophie It was a dreary, depressing Monday morning like any other. I had a bit of an argument with my little brother before I left for work, but I know he always means well. He even said something like that at the end. He’s annoying, and I give him a lot of crap, but he’s a really good kid. I don’t know what I would do if he hadn’t agreed to come here with me. And I know it’s been good for him to finally get away from Texas after the accident. Sometimes I really worry about him. I don’t know how he carries on while carrying all that weight with him. Anyhow, on my frigid trek to work that morning, I counted that I got stepped on or overtly bumped into 21 times over the course of four blocks. That’s a bit of a game that I play every morning on the way to work. I would count on the way home, but I am too afraid to walk the streets in the dark without someone I know, so I take a taxi back to the apartment each night, but I don’t think Jeremiah realizes that. Anyhow, I try to make it as few as possible, but recently the streets have been even more crowded for the holidays and Mondays are always the worst. But I remember that day particularly because it was the same number as the date. I suppose it was some kind of sign from the universe that that day was going to be significant to say the least. Jeremiah “Oh, you’re home early. How was work today?” I still felt guilty about that morning, and I tried my best to be amiable. Sophie took two steps into the apartment, and slowly looked up at me with the most dumbfounded expression of disbelief I have ever seen. “I...she...at the very end of the day...she...she fired me. I don’t have a job anymore.” The expression on her face changed. It softened. Her eyes were no longer glazed over but filling with tears. It was my turn to be shocked. I had visited her at work before. She was great at her job. I didn’t know how to respond. I had so many questions, and I was beginning to boil over with rage, but I put the lid on my emotions to comfort hers. This time I knew there were no words to fix the situation. My body got up from its seat at the kitchen counter, leaving behind my mind, and it embraced her. I still vividly remember it in the third person as I experienced it that night. It was the first time we had hugged in two years. Sophie The next couple days are a bit of a blur in my memory, but then came Thursday. Christmas Eve. It was shaping up to be a real downer of a Christmas to say the least. Cody was still busy at work all week and couldn’t answer my calls. He hardly responded to my texts too. If it weren’t for Jeremiah, I would have been your poster child for a lonely, depressed person in the big city during the holidays having just been fired and everything. But it wasn’t all that bad, or maybe I am just remembering it in light of what happened afterwards. It was definitely worth it to say the least. I got a call at around six in the afternoon, and yes, in New York that is still the afternoon. Anyhow, I got a call from my boss’s assistant that she needed to talk to me and wanted me to come in as soon as possible and absolutely no later than six thirty. I had no idea what to be thinking. I tried to call Cody, but he still wasn’t answering. I gave myself a little pep talk. “You were already fired. What’s the worst that could happen? She can’t tell you what to do anymore.” Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as much a pep talk as just thinking rationally and talking to myself out loud. Anyhow, I stepped out of the taxi and walked up to the front door with my head held high, untouched, and with no one in my way. I apprehensively opened the door to the office belonging to the woman then known as my former boss. She smiled at me. I had worked there for seven months, and I can count on my two hands the number of times she had smiled at me before. And all she said was, “Welcome back, Sophie.” And then she motioned for me to follow her as she walked out of her office to the studio. I was just about as shocked as I had been when she fired me almost exactly three days before. I nearly had it in my mind to stand up for myself and confront her for assuming that I would even still want to work there, but I was so surprised by the rarity of her smile and relieved by the simplicity of her message that those words were nowhere to be found. I had my job back. With half an hour left before the deadline, I was informed that they still needed to get the right clip for their commercial, and they needed me to do it. I was so honored and overwhelmed by all of the emotions of the day and the week that I nearly began to cry. But I did not. After all, I was an actress again. The first twenty minutes were all spent on my wardrobe and makeup because, although I dressed up for my meeting with my boss, I was in a hurry and by no means camera ready. Everything was riding on these last attempts, and my appearance had to be absolutely perfect. So we had ten minutes to shoot a commercial that they had all been working on for almost a week. We were only going to have time to film it four, maybe five times if we worked fast. Proposal one: “Great energy, but stay refined.” Proposal two: “Cody! Don’t! Drop! The ring!” Proposal three: “That was great, let’s get one more take in just in case.” Proposal four: “Yes, that’s the one!” In under ten minutes we shot the best damn little local jewelry shop commercial this world has ever seen. But it wasn’t the only one. As everyone was clapping and hugging, celebrating the success of the evening, I somehow lost Cody in the small crowd. The excitement died down and everyone went back to their filming positions. Confused as ever, I turned around. There was Cody down on one knee. We had just gone through it four times and probably a hundred times three days before, but it could not have been more different. The words, the ring, the feeling. Everything. Proposal five: This was the real deal, and I knew it instantly. Jeremiah could not have been more right or wrong at the same time. Cody must have been the most experienced proposer from the past week, but when it came down to it, I could tell he was a wreck. If he hadn’t been kneeling, his knees would have been knocking so hard you would have thought someone was locked outside and trying to get in. His voice wavered on his thin, quivering lip. His face was flushed but rosy like someone stepping in from a long time out in the cold. His hands nearly dropped the ring as he had during proposal number two. Maybe he was thinking ahead to that moment and it made him lose focus earlier. And the ring. It was the other premier cut from the small jewelry store, but I recognized immediately all of the specializations that he had just for me. In the end, they used both commercials. Cody had told them that he was going to propose to me, and they filmed that one too. There’s no way that my boss could say that we didn’t look in love for that one. I came very near to bawling, and the tears made my eyes sparkle. But I haven’t seen anything sparkle as much as that fifth diamond ring. And it still brings a sparkly tear to my eyes whenever I glance down at my hand and see it alongside the ring from last July. It was quite a Christmas in July celebration we had with me all dressed in white. And do y’all want to know what the funny thing is? This year it is my turn to surprise Cody on Christmas Eve. And I think Uncle Jeremiah will be pretty excited about this news again too.