The light panned over the coast, gutting the night like a blade through a fish’s belly. Emerson Leighe sighed. From experience, he knew the storm would be raging well into the next day. But he’d be safe here; this lighthouse had weathered many storms before this one. And it would weather many more after, too. It had stood here since before he was born, and it would stand long after he was dead, which wouldn’t be long now, he reasoned. He raised his metal cup to the windows, which looked out onto the frothing midnight ocean. He offered the night his cheers, then sipped his neat rum. Lightning lit up the abyss, burning his retinas white for one faltering heartbeat. The wind whipped and whooped around the edges of the lighthouse. The rumble of thunder came three seconds later, reverberating through his bones. Emerson blinked. The ocean was a cruel mistress, sometimes. He knew that more than anybody. He’d spent much of his life aboard fishing vessels, at sea for months. He felt more at home on the open sea than on dry land. That was why he’d taken on the task of lighthousekeeper after retirement. But it seemed that people had lost their respect for the water. Kids rode inflatable beds out on riptides and needed rescuing. Rich yuppies took their boats out in unsafe conditions and needed rescuing. Partying youngsters went for midnight swims whilst inebriated. They drew the attention of the sea beasts, which they then hunted for revenge. And thus, the creatures needed rescuing due to their dwindling numbers. Companies dumped their foul excretions into the blue, so the sea needed rescuing, too. Emerson growled and scowled out. The thunder and lightning lashed from the heavens once again. The rain pelted sideways at the window, rattling against the glass. The gale screamed like a dying creature wounded by a harpoon. Another sound chimed throughout the lighthouse. But this had nothing to do with thunder. He grunted. Somebody had rung the lighthouse’s doorbell. Who on earth could that be? The lighthouse clung to a rocky piece of coast that jutted out into the ocean. It was far from any town or village, as Emerson liked it. The only company he usually had came in the form of passing boats and hungry seagulls. Emerson took another swig of rum and set his cup on the table. The wood bore the marks of a million condensation rings from the rum mugs of history. He grumbled to himself and passed through the door to the spiral staircase. The doorbell rang again as he descended, with care, the final treacherous steps. He threw the door open to the howling wind. ‘Yarr, I’m coming, I’m coming! Hold your seahorses.’ On the stoop, two kids huddled together, no older than eighteen. They clung to one another as the wind whipped at them, and the storm soaked them to their bones. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said the boy, raising his voice over the gale, ‘but our car broke down and we’re stranded. Can we please hold up with you until the storm has passed?’ Emerson was not a people person. But he was also not a heartless monster, either. He opened the door to the boy and the girl and guided them up the staircases. ‘Yarr, come in, come in! Yer wetter than water! I got some blankies upstairs. Come, let’s get you and your lass dry. Me name’s Emerson.’ The boy smiled and offered his hand despite the chill that shook him. ‘Thanks, man! You’re the best. Harry. And this is Skyla.’ Emerson led them up the winding staircase to the lighthouse’s upper room, lit by the beacon. He got some dry towels - stale and motheaten, but dry - and put the kettle on for warm tea. ‘Arr! You must be pretty frightened! What with you stranded in the dark and the rain while the sea beats her chest like King Kong! She can be mighty fierce.’ The boy pulled a face and shook his head. He wrapped a towel around Skyla’s shoulders before he tended to himself. ‘Err, no. Inconvenienced. And uncomfortable. But not scared.’ Emerson frowned but bit his tongue. He guided the youngsters to his couch - it wouldn’t be the first time it got wet - and handed them mugs of steeping tea. He sighed and sat down opposite them on his old rickety chair. ‘And what, if you don’t mind me askin’, were you two doin’ out here this late at night?’ The boy and the girl blushed. Harry started to say something, but then Skyla interrupted. She shoved her left hand into Emerson’s face. A diamond glinted on her ring finger. ‘Harry proposed to me tonight! As the sun set over the water, staining it red. The colour of love! Isn’t that romantic?’ To Emerson, red was the colour of blood once you’d chummed the waters to lure in the big fish, but he didn’t say this. ‘Yarr, it do warm this old sea dog’s heart to see young love in bloom. Why, my Bathilde and I, we shared quite a torrid love affair, we did! But she’s been sleeping with the fishes for longer’n you been alive. I still carry her picture in this old locket here, which I wear around me neck at all times. Here! Take a look at this beauty, lad. But don’t lose yer eye for the young lass, now, aye?’ The boy blinked at the picture in the sea-air-rusted locket. He did a double-take. He seemed to struggle for words; his eyebrows knotted together like a bowline. ‘Sir... that’s a manatee.’ Emerson recoiled. ‘Arr! You youngsters and your unrealistic Hollywood beauty standards! You shouldn’t perpetuate such unhealthy attitudes towards appearances. It only fosters anxiety and insecurity. Yarr! You might be young and lovely now, but see how pretty yer look in sixty years. Let’s see how yer are once the sea’s done rusted yer lungs, and yer legs been took by an orca and a great white workin’ in cahoots!’ The girl reached over and rapped a knuckle on his shin. A smirk touched the corners of her lips. ‘But sir, both your legs are still attached.’ Emerson yelped and tucked his legs back under his chair. ‘I jumped into the blood-stained brine, I did! Wrestled me legs back from the bellies of the respective beasts at the same time. Fought them both off. Using nothing but me bare hands. I sewed them back on, I did! Using nothing but a bit of old gut fishing line. I cleaned the wounds by spitting on ‘em, then patched meself back up. It hurt fer a while, but it didn’t affect me well-trained balance on the deck. Yarr, at sea you needs good sea legs. Especially whilst Poseidon’s throwin’ you about like a dusty old rug that yer mama’s trying to clean!’ The kids exchanged a glance and snickered. ‘That didn’t happen, did it, sir?’ asked the boy. ‘You’re having us on.’ Emerson bit his lip. He knew how to get through to these young’uns, to teach them the proper respect they ought to have for the ocean. Emerson had seen waves taller than buildings and fish bigger than elephants. He’d seen currents sweep sailors to their doom in seconds. Emerson had seen men sink into the abyss as waves pummelled them like a boxer in a match with no referee to ring the bell. These kids had been on dry land, but the ocean was hungry. She could reach out and snatch you from the shore if she wanted. They had gotten lucky the midnight tide hadn’t pulled them out to see whilst the boy popped the question. Emerson got to his feet and slipped out the door to the spiral staircase. ‘I ‘ave somethin’ ter show yer. You wait right here, my lovelies.’ Confused whispers came from behind him. Outside, the storm continued to rage. The wind screamed, and the rain lashed. The ocean roared and threw itself against the lighthouse’s base. The foundations shuddered. Emerson found the switch - covered in warning stickers - and flicked it. The lighthouse went dark. A small shriek came from above. He ascended in shadow, grinning at the panicked voices. He barged through the door and clicked the torch on. He illuminated his haggard face from below and bellowed. ‘IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT!’ Harry and Skyla screamed and clung to each other; their faces pulled in a rictus of terror in the torch’s beam. ‘What the hell--’ began the boy, but Emerson cut him off. ‘THE OCEAN WAS RAGING! THE NIGHT WAS BLACK! YOU COULDN’T TELL WHERE THE SKY ENDED AND THE WATER BEGAN! AND WE ALL KNEW THAT SHE, THE CREATURE, WAS OUT THERE HUNTING US! THE HUNTERS HAD BECOME THE HUNTED! WE--’ A foghorn shattered the tension, deafening them all. Harry jumped up, knocking his chair over backwards. Skyla shrieked and threw her hands up to her face. A flick of a fish’s tail later, the lighthouse shook around them. A great, wrenching metallic crunch rocked the world. Ice froze his limbs. He broke through the paralysis and staggered to the window. He shined his flashlight onto the rocks below. ‘Good God,’ whispered Emerson. The jagged stones had acted like a shark’s teeth, puncturing the ship’s hull. It leaned, like a drunken sailor, 45 degrees to the side. On top, seamen clung to the rails whilst others tried to scramble about the rain-wet deck. Baffled shouts punctured the storm’s wailing. Boxes of cargo crashed into the surf. Some sailors tossed life rings into the brine to rescue men overboard. Emerson whimpered. This lighthouse had not had a single accident for almost a hundred years. And now, in one swift hour, he’d caused a disaster. He should never have exaggerated the truth to impress these kids. The ocean was scary and beautiful enough as it was. It didn’t need cheapening with manufactured myths and legends. But he’d tried to scare them into respecting the fierce hand of nature, tried and failed. They thought he was an old coot who’d messed up on the job. And they wouldn’t exactly be wrong, now, would they? He’d forgotten the very lesson he’d been trying to teach. His shoulders slumped. ‘Yarr, I’m not the brightest bulb, methinks.’


# Letters to L ## April 23, 2016 I ran into you again. “Third time’s the charm” is what I would’ve said if we’d known each other. This way, we’re just two soulmates roaming the world without an opportunity to meet. “How are you?” How is that.. thing, going? Is what I would’ve said if I got the chance to talk to you.This way we’re doomed for unhappiness with other people, constantly yearning for each other without a way or opportunity to meet. ## May 13, 2016 Today, I saw you again. It was one of those moments where I moved to one side of the street and you moved to that same side and it wasn’t clear which one of us should move. You seemed a little annoyed when I bumped into you. I guess because I intentionally walked into you? And I think you could’ve felt that. Because you know me so well. Wow, I thought after that, our first fight huh? We’re really going through the same things as every couple, which is cute when you think about it. Love works in mysterious ways and sometimes the universe really has to interfere for two people to collide. ## June 1, 2016 I’m thinking of our future children. They’d have your hair. And really - knowing you - I know you’d be a great dad. I know we disagree sometimes, we are so different after all. But you’d do really well, it feels like we would get along, you know what I mean? I know you know what I mean. And I know you’ve been thinking about these same things as well and maybe, just like me, you’ve been reluctant to say hi. How do you even, say hi, to your soulmate? How do you just say - Hi, I am your soulmate and I think you might know that? But you might know. ## June 26, 2016 I feel like one of these days, I’ll run into you again and you’ll just start talking, we’ll just start talking. I know you have so much to say although you’ve been so very quiet with me. Almost like you’re mad at me.. Are you mad at me? Is it because I bumped into you the other day? Or is there something about me that just doesn’t say: “This person is my soulmate” to you? You know, I think all couples fight, it’s normal. But I know we’re going to get through this - just like we’re going to get through everything. We might have differing opinions but I think we always get to the same point after all. We always meet each other at that same spot again and again. Sometimes it takes a month, sometimes it takes years but we always meet eventually. ## August 1, 2016 I feel like you haven’t been fair. I don’t like how you treat me. Like making me move because of you. I left everything. I had to leave my cat because my new landlord doesn’t allow pets. I understand couples do that for each other and we all have to make sacrifices for love, I just.. I... And I don’t even know if you’re a cat person. This is exactly the kind of thing people who know each other so well miss out on. How do you like your eggs? Do you even eat eggs? It would be really awkward if you came to my place for breakfast and I didn’t know what you liked having for breakfast. Don’t you think that would be awkward? Like - who am I to you even? It’s like - I’m supposed to know you. And yet - sometimes I feel like I don’t. I mean, I don’t even know your name. I thought it was.. Lirk? But that’s not a common name and it’s only been shouted once around you and you turned around and I just assumed that was your name. I don’t even know if that’s why you turned around or was it because someone yelled and you wanted to see what was going on? In hindsight, I should’ve chosen a more common name to yell out and see if you’ll turn around.. Like John or Jack.. Not that I specifically imagined my future husband being named Lirk, of course. Do you, Katie, take Lirk to be your lawfully wedded husband? No, that’s not how I imagined it, you’re right. Should’ve said John or Jack. Really, those are the only two names I like. But it’s ok if that’s not your name. I know an Anthony that goes by John, I know a Richard that goes by Jack, he’s in witness protection. ## September 22, 2016 Today, I saw you again. One of the photos of you I took last year from my window fell off the shelf. It’s like you’re calling out to me. Sometimes people say, if you’re looking for a sign, you’ll never get one. But I think I got my sign. I know you’ve been thinking about me too. Even today, I know that hasn’t been a coincidence, I know you’re trying to reach out, I know you’re shy and it’s hard for you to open up to people. I know so much about you, I wish you’d notice that. ## November 1, 2016 I haven’t seen you in a while, I’m really hoping you didn’t move again. It would be really stressful for me to have to move again, I already changed my job twice this year. I understand that, you know, love takes time and love is a compromise. Frankly, I think you’re a weird person though we all have our quirks. You keep people at a distance, you don’t let people get close to you, you get annoyed when I run into you. Sometimes it just feels like I’m the only one making an effort here. Like you don’t even care about me. Do you even love me? I can’t stand the fact that other people think they know you better than me. How can anyone know you better than me? I’m sorry, I’m sorry for saying that. You’re a loner, I’ve never seen you with anyone else. And you’re perfect for me, I know that - I’m a loner too. It gets hard meeting new people in every new part of town we move to but I think it’s worth it. We all need to compromise and you sure have. ## November 11, 2016 “Love each other even when you’re not together. The people who love each other only when they’re together - don’t care who they’re with.” It’s not about the time we spent together - it’s about what we do when we’re together. Like, remember that time I ran into you? You were so annoyed, it was so cute. I think you’re really cute when you’re angry. I also remember going to the store one day and as soon as I got back home, sitting by my window - I saw you immediately followed me into the store thinking I was still there. It’s like - did you want to just smell me? Just get a little whiff of me? I totally get that ❤ ## December 11, 2016 My sister asked me about you coming for the holidays again this year. I didn’t know what to say. I try avoiding the topic, just so she doesn’t realize this hasn’t come up in conversation yet. We’re just not like other couples and I don’t know, I don’t think she gets that. She’s been married a long time and she forgot how hard it is to find your soulmate. I mean, now that I think of it, I’m not a huge fan of her and Jack, I don’t consider them to be soulmates. Just living with someone for 15 years doesn’t make them your soulmate. And I know what you’re gonna say - when you know you know. And I agree - with us, it was so easy. I know. And I know you know. Other people don’t necessarily get it. ## December 15, 2016 You make me feel so lonely sometimes. And I know most people in relationships feel like this sometimes. I know relationships aren’t easy, I don’t know why I thought ours would be. I haven’t seen you in a while, I’m wondering where you are. We’re probably always missing each other, we’re like cute sitcom couple, you’re the Ross to my Rachel. And I know you can smell me, I know you know I was just there ## May 13, 2017 We’re gonna tell our grandchildren about today. Today we held hands for the first time ❤ I was at the store, waiting for you to come by. When you reached for the beer fridge, I reached for the same beer, can you believe it? I know what you like - Bud light. That’s now my favorite too. Ah, young love, it’s overwhelming sometimes. But these little milestones really keep me going. ## August 4, 2017 Finally, you reached out to me today. I was right there, on the street, and I could JUST FEEL you behind me, I could FEEL you wanting to yell my name at the top of your lungs. I’m realizing how bad of an idea it would’ve been. At this point, it feels like it would ruin everything. Like every relationship, ours is vulnerable too. And while I know we’re strong deep inside, I’m still afraid sometimes. So there you go there’s your answer as to why I didn’t turn around. But I think you know, right? I know you know. You know that I can feel you, you know how much it meant to me. Especially after not seeing you for months, I was really worried you moved again without checking with me. You know that hurts me yet you still do it over and over again (who the hell moves three times a year?!). But I guess this is one of those things, one of those recurring fights we’re gonna have that every couple does. ## December 11, 2017 I’m dreading visiting my family over the holidays. They’re so ignorant. They don’t appreciate me as much as you do. They keep bringing up me being “42 years old and single” as if they know everything. They don’t see what we see, they really don’t. And they don’t understand why they haven’t met you and that you prefer spending Christmas with your family, a lot of people do. I don’t want this to turn into another recurring fight which is why I don’t insist. It’s fine, because I get you. I’m the only one that does and I think you know that. Lirk? ## August 25, 2018 Well, today’s the day. I knew all good things take time, I knew my family was wrong, I knew everybody was wrong. Now, I have my confirmation, the stars have aligned. Today, almost 3 years after we met, 5 homes later, so many wonderful memories together - today you finally talked to me. I’ll always remember it. I was just outside the store, and you looked at me. You looked deep into my eyes, first time ever we made eye contact and you asked what I was looking at, trying to capture my gaze. I guess you could tell I was a little distracted, perhaps a little enamored. And yes, it’s so cute but I guess I was staring. You were intrigued by my gaze, you could tell I was distraught, I wasn’t being myself and you - of course you knew something was wrong. What a good conversation starter. I’ll always remember those curious words, even if none are spoken between us again. “What the hell are you looking at” Love really is.. when you know you know.


While driving across the Mississippi River bridge to a Bed and Breakfast in Lafayette, Louisiana, Tanya and Brandon reminisced about their college days when they first fell in love. "I remember the day we met very vividly, sir," Tanya said as she gazed into his eyes. "Me too," Brandon replied. "But you can go first." "I remember you came downstairs at Susanna's house wearing a white t-shirt. When I saw you, I couldn't stop staring at you. I think you literally took my breath away. I was trying not to make it so obvious, so I would look away when I saw you looking at me until I wanted you to know I saw you." "That's so funny 'cause I was staring at you when you weren't looking, too"! In fact, when we finally looked at each other at the same time, I was actually about to say something to you." "Hahaha! And what were you going to say?" "Hell, I don't remember all that. I just remember I saw one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, and I knew I had to have you in my life." "Well, if that's the case, why didn't you do right by me back then?" "How many times do we have to go over this, Tanya? You knew I wasn't ready to be the man you wanted and needed me to be. But, trust and believe I'm ready now. Why do you think I remained friends with you this long without getting any?" She replied sarcastically, "Really now? So you think you're actually ready to put all the bull shit aside and be the man I've always wanted you to be?" "Baby, I've wanted you from the first time I saw you, and I never stopped. Now, that I've gotten everything out of my system, and you're finally free of your marriage, now we can truly be together." "Good. It's about damn time! It really sucks that what happened is how I was able to get out of my marriage. But, everything happens for a reason." The couple finally arrived to the bed and breakfast. As Brandon was getting their luggage out of the car, Tanya noticed someone staring at them from a window. "Ok, am I tripping or is that lady staring at us?" Tanya asked. With his head and back in the trunk to get the remaining luggage, he said, "Well, if I turn around right now, my back won't be good for anything this weekend." As he slowly stood upright, he glanced at the window nearest them, but no one was there. "I'm not sure if you're tripping 'cause I couldn't see in time. But there's no one there, bae." "I know what I saw. I'm not crazy." "No one is saying you are. Come on, let's go get checked in." "Welcome to T'Frere's House Bed and Breakfast. I'm umm...Wilber. Top of the day to you fine folks," said Wilber, one of the owners. "Good evening, sir," the couple said simultaneously. "I'm not sure if we read it correctly on the internet, but is your check out time 4pm?" Brandon asked. "Yes sir, it is. Ya see, we try to give fine folks like yourselves enough time to enjoy the inn and do whatever it is y'all like to do. Plus, we're not like one of those fancy schmancy hotels that like to charge you an arm and a leg and maybe a kidney just for a few hours." With a light chuckle, Brandon replied, "Oh ok. Well, we certainly appreciate it. This is the first time we've been able to get away together in quite some time." "Oh, I hear ya. Y'all got kids at home?" After clearing her throat, Tanya said, "Yes, sir. We both have children at home." "Well, alrighty then," Wilbur said. While motioning for them to follow him upstairs, he said, "Why don't you let me help you with those bags?" As Wilbur tried to take Brandon's bag without his permission, he said, "No, we're good. But thank you." Tanya whispered in Brandon's ear, "This place is already giving me the creeps, and we haven't even made it to our room yet." Brandon gave her a look that told her he agreed. Handing them the room key, Wilbur said, "Alrighty, here ya go. Room 2. This is the best room in the house!" In a hurry to get into the room, Tanya said, "Great! Thank you so much, sir." As the couple walked into the room, they gave each other a "WTF" look then shrugged their shoulders and started kissing. "I've been waiting 8 years to do this," Brandon said as he stroked her hair behind her ear. "I can't believe we're finally in this moment. It seems like it's been forever." As the couple began kissing passionately again, Tanya noticed the curtain moving when she paused for air. Trying not to sound like she had completely lost her mind, she just assumed the fan on the other side of the room caused it to sway. Brandon guides Tanya to the bed, and the two begin to make love like it was their first time. Afterwards, they worked up an appetite and decided to check for restaurants in the area. "Man, this Italian restaurant sounds real good, babe," Tanya said. "Ok, cool. Let's get dressed and head that way. I'm starving," Brandon said. The two hopped in her red Jetta and turned on the radio. As Tanya was searching for a descent radio station, she stopped on a song that reminded her of Brandon. But, while singing and gazing into his eyes briefly as he was driving, the radio suddenly changed on it's own and began playing a song that reminded her of her deceased husband. Taking a deep sigh, Tanya said, "Aww man. That was the first song we danced to at our wedding reception." Noticing the look on her face, Brandon asked, "Are you ok?" She nodded, "Yeah, I'm good. It's just kinda hard to believe he's really gone forever sometimes. Even though he was a pain in my ass, and I didn't want to be married to him anymore, that was still my husband, you know?" "You don't have to explain anything to me. I've been you're friend through it all. I get it." Once they pulled up to Antoni's Italian Restaurant, Brandon opened the car door for Tanya as she adjusted her clothing. As they began walking toward a table the hostess recommended, Tanya glanced at a man in her right peripheral vision. Then, she turned her head to look at the man directly. She paused in her steps and stared blankly at the man. Shaking her head in disbelief, she sat down as Brandon pulled out her chair. While losing the internal battle to look again, Tanya notices the man she thought was her husband was actually another man. "Bae, you good?" Brandon asked. "You look like you just saw a ghost." "I think I did," she said quietly to herself but just nodded her head to move beyond the moment. After they enjoyed dinner, they decided to go back to their room and spend more quality time together. When Tanya attempted to lie down on the bed next to Brandon, he said, "Oh no, you've got too many clothes on. We've wasted eight years. You better act like you want some more." Tanya laughed and replied, "Well damn. I guess you're right." Then, the two lovers began to have passionate sex. Once things began to get rougher, a lamp fell to the floor. "Oh shit!" she exclaimed. "I don't know how in the hell that happened, but I don't want to stop," he said. So, they continued. Now, laying in each other's arms, Tanya decided to tell Brandon what she's been experiencing on the trip. "Babe, at first I thought I was tripping. But, after the lamp fell, and I realized it was very far away from the edge of the nightstand, I'm convinced." "Convinced of what?" he asked. "Convinced that Tony is trying to communicate with me." "You can't be serious." "I'm dead ass serious. Ever since we got here, I've been experiencing one strange thing after another. First, it was the creepy looking woman staring at me through the window. Next, it was the radio automatically changing from our song to the song we danced to at our wedding. Then, when you said I looked like I had seen a ghost, I seriously thought I saw him sitting in the restaurant. And lastly, of course, the lamp fell." Looking lost for words, Brandon said, "Ummm I don't know what to say." "What can either of us say?" Then suddenly, they heard a knock at the door. "Can I help you?" asked Brandon. "Umm yea, I just wanted to let y'all know that check out time is at 4pm tomorrow," said Wilbur with a glazed look in his eyes. "Yes, I know. Remember we talked about that when we checked in?" he said hesitantly. "Oh yeah, that's right. My apologies. Well, you fine folks have a good evening, ya hear." As he quickly closed the door, Brandon said, "Ok, yeah, that was weird as hell." "See, I'm trying to tell you. Some weird shit is going on. We've got to get the hell out of here," Tanya replied. Once the two started grabbing their bags to leave, they both noticed the curtain moving swiftly. But, this time, the fan was turned off. So Tanya said, "Look, Tony. I know this is difficult but you're gone. I miss you, and I love you dearly, but this is my life now. I'm so sorry for the drama in our marriage. But, please let me live in peace." Brandon looked in amazement and said, "Wow. I hope he listens. But, it's time to go back to Baton Rouge." The couple drove back to their hometowns and never spoke of what happened again at T'Frere's House Bed and Breakfast again.


“Just a half-gallon?” Frank asked, shifting the Astro Van into park. “Sure. It’s just us. Oh, and Frankie,” Mary put her hand on his arm, “I need some Kotex, too.” She smiled at him. “Ok?” Frank looked down at her swollen ankle then back up to her sweet expression. He sighed. He would have to be the hero. But what brand? How many? What size? Color? Scent? “Um, what kind?” “Just regular.” He continued to stare at her with a blank expression. “You know - napkins. Pads. Not tampons.” Mary leaned back and propped her sprained ankle up on the console. Her face had a contented, angelic look, like she had every confidence in her husband’s ability to produce feminine hygiene products. Determined to fulfill his mission, he mentally chanted his shopping list over and over like a mantra with every step that took him into the corner market. Milk and Kotex. Milk and Kotex*.* As if there was a chance he might forget an item on that long list. Eyeing the checkout clerk as he walked in, he saw she was a plump, grey-haired woman with a friendly smile. Okay, he could deal with that. He wandered around the aisles aimlessly at first, scoping out the place to make sure there were no familiar faces. In a rural town like this, there was always the possibility of running into someone he knew. Satisfied the small store was empty enough, he walked confidently to the dairy section and grabbed a carton of milk. Then he faltered, looking around like a lost puppy. How was he supposed to know what section contained female products? Straightening his shoulders, he told himself he could do this. *Let’s see . . .* *toiletries, right?* He searched the narrow aisles until he found shampoo. *Yes!* Hair spray, deodorant, razors. He was getting close. *There!* “Margolis!” Frank spun around at the voice. *Oh!* “Hey Leo.” He glanced at the 12-pack in Leo’s arms. “Enjoying your Sunday, huh man?” “Naw, just headin’ home to watch the game.” Leo glanced at the carton of milk Frank was holding. “Yeah, me too. I was just heading that way.” Frank nodded toward the end of the aisle where Leo had come from. “Take it easy, man.” “You too, Margolis,” called Leo as he headed toward the registers. Frank walked quickly to the back of the store, feeling his back getting clammy. He stared into the glass doors as if deciding which brand of beer went with this situation, then grabbed a six-pack of Bud Light before reluctantly heading back to the toiletries section. *Ok, let’s see.* He saw rows of blue boxes and scanned them quickly. Tampax Slim Fit, Tampax Super Absorbent, Tampax Gentle Glide. *Geez!* They were all tampons. *There -* *Kotex! Shit.* Those were tampons too. He looked over the shelves. Cotton balls. Massengill douche. Hemorrhoid medication. This had to be the right place. “Hey ya’ Frank!” Frank spun around, hoping the flushness he felt wasn’t showing on his face. “Hey there, Tim. How’s it goin’?” “Just gettin’ some cold ones.” Geez. *Was this the only aisle that led to the beer section?* “Hey, some of us are headin’ over to Wheelan’s to watch the game.” Tim eyed Frank’s grocery selections. “Why don’t you stop by?” “Yeah, I just might.” Frank followed Tim’s gaze over to the toiletries section. He stepped between Tim and the blue boxes and quickly grabbed a razor from the shelf, almost dropping the milk in the process. It just happened to be a pink razor. He held it up and shrugged. “Uh, Mary needed a few things.” “Yeah, we’re slaves to our women, huh?” Tim slapped Frank on the shoulder. “So I’ll see you at Wheelan’s?” “Yeah, man.” Frank waited until Tim was at the end of the aisle before putting the pink razor back. He gave up on the search among the blue boxes, satisfied that none of them were of the pad variety. Hell, did they even make those anymore? Maybe his wife was just behind the times. He decided to give it one last try and went down the aisle with paper plates and napkins. Just a shot, but it was dark. He proceeded through the check out and walked out to the van feeling like he’d failed at the hunt. He handed Mary the bag through the window, and waited while she looked inside. She gave him a look. “Is there some language I don’t know about, Frank, where Kotex means beer?” Her tone suggested amusement, but her eyes weren’t laughing. “I looked, Babe. All they make are, uh, tampons now, I guess.” It pained him to say the actual word. Frank looked down at his feet. “And I didn’t know what - um - size you are.” “*My* size?” Mary started laughing. “Jesus, Frank.” She shook her head, then asked, “Did you look over by the diapers?” “Diapers?” *As in* *baby*? He would never have considered looking there. Wasn’t that a contradiction or something? “Just go back in and look by the diapers and Depends. If you can’t find them, just ask someone, Frankie.” Frank gave a slight nod as he turned away. Yeah, right. Like that would happen. He shuffled back into the store and saw a guy he sorta knew buying cigs. They nodded in recognition and Frank hung around the front of the store flipping through a Popular Mechanics magazine, waiting for smoking man to leave. Then he quickly scouted out the baby products aisle. Sure enough. Right there. But again, the choices. What the hell was the difference between panty liners and panty shields? And how the hell should he know if Mary had light days or super maxi days? He bet there weren’t this many choices in baby diapers. He checked it out. Sure enough, it looked like diapers only came in one absorbency. “Is there somethin’ you and Mary have to announce, Frankie honey?” Frank recognized the southern accent instantly and turned around flustered. “Hey Gloria. How’ve you been?” They did the cheek kiss thing that Gloria always did. He saw that she looked great. And smelled even better. He sheepishly put his hands in his pockets. “Well, Sugar?” Gloria asked with raised eyebrows, looking past him to the diapers. “Oh no! No. I’m just here for Mary. She had an accident. She’s out in the van if you want to say hello.” Like that would happen. Those two hadn’t spoken for years. Ever since - Hell, Frank never did figure out what caused the falling out between the best friends. Whenever he would ask Mary to explain it to him, she gave him that exasperated look that meant if he loved her he should know. Gloria put a hand on his arm. “So, does Mary’s accident involve Depends?” Her voice was deathly serious, but her eyes showed the mischievousness she was famous for as she held out a package of adult diapers to him. “Uh, no. No,” he stammered, taking the Depends from her and putting them back on the shelf. “She sprained her ankle.” “Oh. I see.” Gloria scanned the shelves, as if looking for anything that had to do with sprained ankles. It was clear that she wasn’t going to leave without a full explanation of what he was doing in the store. “I just came in to pick up some, uh, supplies for her.” He quickly turned and grabbed the first pink box he could reach. Gloria put a hand on his shoulder and laughed, then took the package from his hands. “Let me help you, Sugar. I doubt Mary wants these.” She returned the pink box to the shelf and Frank saw that he had grabbed Carefree Thong. He couldn’t pull his gaze away. They made ‘em for *thongs*? Gloria’s lilting laughter brought him back to the moment, along with a red face. “I don’t know what the hell to get,” he admitted. “Here, Frankie, honey, you take her these.” She put a box in his hand that said Ultra-Thin Super-Long with Wings. That seemed to cover all the bases. Gloria pulled his neck to her, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and whispered, “You tell your Mary that Gloria said hi, okay Sugar?” She left him standing there with his pink box, waltzing tantalizingly to the back of the store. He couldn’t get to the checkout fast enough. The grand-motherly woman who was checking before had been replaced by a pimply-faced guy with a pierced tongue. Frank got a good look at the silver stud in the tongue as the young man yelled out “Hey, Joey! How much are these Ultra Thins with Wings?” The paunchy kid with the buzz cut lumbered down the baby aisle and yelled back, “Is that the Super Long or the Curved Classic?” Just then Pete and Jose walked in. “Hey Margolis! How’s it hangin’?” “We’re headed over to Wheelan’s.


There comes a time when you need to accept the family you have. It's a hard thing to do. Especially when the family you have isn't the family you want to have. When that family is dysfunctional and broken. When that family hates you. It's hard not to take it personally. To not carry a grudge. I used to think I was the forgive and forget sort. That I could just...figure out how to get past it all. And maybe I could have, if they'd come for me. If they'd bothered to lift a finger and attempted a rescue. Something, anything, to prove they cared whether I lived or died. But they didn't, did they? For all of their fancy names, nifty outfits, and extraordinary reputations, they really were terrible people. How else could you view a group of people blessed with such power that couldn't be bothered to save their own flesh and blood? Why was I worth less to them than a random stranger screaming across town? When I was a kid, my parents had high expectations. The first born of a popular and extremely powerful metahuman family, all eyes were on me as I turned 5. That is when metahumans start showing signs of their powers. I turned 5 and showed no signs. They waited another year. Nothing. All the buzz died down, and instead the paparazzi started questioning my utility as a metahuman. That is when they decided to have another child - my younger brother. Was I defective? At a very young age the question bothered me. Why was I not like other kids? Even my own brother had shown signs of super strength - like my dad - even before he turned five. So why me? Why was I the one who was different? As we grew, I became ostracized from my own family. They looked at me, eyes filled with hatred, disappointment and pity. I decided to withdraw from the world, even as I was bullied and beaten in school everyday. Why are you even here? They would taunt. They were right - but I didn't know why I was there at a school for aspiring heroes. There was no point in training for a power that I did not have. I learned to accept them for what they were the same day I learned something else: Supervillains aren't born that way, they're made that way. By life and circumstance. No one wants to be evil, they just don't want to be vulnerable and hurt any more. They learn to act against others so no one is given a chance to act against them. Sigue was like that. Labeled the most dangerous villain of the century, on the surface he was brutal and ruthless. Kidnapping me was evidence enough of that. He targeted me because I was weak. He waited until I was alone and defenseless and made his move. He executed his plan to perfection, grabbing me while walking home from school. His only mistake was assuming anyone cared. You can only gain leverage over an enemy if you possess something they value. Well, my family didn't value me. They didn’t value me enough to save my life when they save hundreds every day doing their jobs. It came as a shock to us both. It's one thing to suspect, and quite another to have it confirmed. I glared pitfully at the floor, the chains rattling around my ankle. “Well there you have it.” I spat, the ground a victim to my glare. “The great Whitlock family, savior of thousands of people, can’t be bothered to save their own son.” Tears pooled in my eyes but I furiously blinked them away, not willing to cry in front of a villain. I’m going to die here. The horrifying thought crossed my mind quickly but it was true. I was alone with a murderer, someone who killed without mercy. I looked up, my vision still blurry from tears. He had an odd expression on his face, twisted, a painful grimace. He reached his hand out and I flinched. He retracted his arm slowly, hands clenched into fists by his side. “Look, kid-” he tried. “Carson.” “Carson.” He corrected himself. His face twisted again and I squinted at him, trying to figure out his thoughts. Before he could speak again, I blurted out, “If you’re going to kill me, make it quick please.” I bowed my head, surrendering myself. After all, what was the point of fighting? I had no chance. It was better to give in in the hopes of a quick death. “Don’t do that.” He spoke out, his voice hard. I snapped my head up quickly, only to be startled for a different reason. He had taken off his mask. No one had ever seen his face before, Sigue’s identity a carefully concealed secret. But now I watched as he set his mask aside on the ground coming closer to me. “I’m... sorry.” My eyes widened in bewilderment. “What?” I laughed incredulously. More out of hysteria than anything. “You’re sorry ?” “Yeah.” He admitted. He walked closer and I tensed, watching his movements carefully. Surprisingly, he sat down next to me, also keeping his gaze trained on the floor. I stared unwaveringly at his face, the one he had kept so carefully hidden from heroes and villains alike. He had strong facial features, arguably handsome if it wasn't for the long scar running from the corner of his mouth all the way to his ear. It looked painful. I wondered who could’ve possibly landed a hit like that on someone so powerful. “I know what it’s like being betrayed by your parents.” I scoffed. “Yeah I’m sure you do.” I pulled my knees closer to my chest, the chains rattling. My eyes filled with tears again. I blinked furiously. “You can cry.” I startled, turning towards Sigue. He wasn’t looking at me. “I won’t say anything.” “You kidnapped me,” I said dryly. “You're not supposed to be nice.” He chuckled softly. “That wasn’t personal.” He took a key from his pocket. “Here,” He said, unlocking my wrists. My ankle was still bound but I had more freedom of movement now. “Thanks...” I said carefully, rubbing my raw wrists. “My parents...” He hesitated. I cocked my head in confusion. His voice was slightly shaky, unlike anything I had ever heard from the fearsome villain. “They threw me out. I had a “villainous” power. They were scared. So, off to the streets I go.” My eyes were wide as I took in his story. Surprisingly, I could relate. I could relate to someone who has killed and hurt so many people. I almost laughed again, but remained silent, not wanting to break the careful air of peace between us, “It was terrible. I was the same age as you, homeless, cold, no place to go.” He sighed. “I went to so many metas. People supposed to be heroes turned away a starving kid because of his power. Because they were scared .” He clenched his fist, and the beam next to us exploded. I jumped, watching the shrapnel drift to the ground like confetti. My mouth felt dry, going cold with fear again. “So,” he continued, his voice carefully even. “I do know what it’s like to have shitty parents.” I chuckled. “Well I guess that’s one way to put it.” A tense silence fell over the room, the only noise in the room was my heavy breathing. “Is that why you’re a villain?” I whispered quietly, breaking the silence. “Part of it.” He sighed. “When you get hurt, you hit back. When society shuns you out, you have to find a way to claw your way back to the top.” For some reason that’s what finally made me break down, the tears filling dripping down my face. The words were harsh but in the end they were true. I was at rock bottom. How could those I had loved and admired for so long inflict such pain? Despite my desperate attempts to earn their affection, my parents remained distant, their indifference a silent condemnation of my existence. Now I knew the truth. They never cared, and they never would. Sigue looked way out of his element, seemingly not knowing how to deal with a crying kid. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He reached out, but seemed hesitant to touch me. I let out a shuddering breath, it sounded more like a sob. “No, I just...” More tears fell. “I just wish my parents cared about me!” He froze. “I mean they just left me here! ” I wailed. “With you!” “Hey-” “I just want them to like me. To care about me and pay attention to me for once in my life.” Sigue sighed. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He put a hand on my shoulder, the action strangely caring. He took the key and unlocked the shackle around my ankle. “Here. You’re free to go.” I looked at him in shock. I didn’t move. He got up to leave and walk out the door. “You’re not going to kill me?” I asked incredulously. He turned around to look back at me. “I don’t kill kids.” He gave me a wry grin. “I have no need to keep you here if your parents aren’t coming. Go back to your family.” I stared at the floor, processing. My heart still felt like it was shattering in millions of pieces, my family’s unwillingness to help their own son cutting deep. But, a new feeling was emerging beneath all the shards. Rage. How could they turn their backs on their own son, leaving him to navigate the darkness alone? The pain of abandonment morphed into a seething fury, burning hotter with each passing moment. No longer would I allow their neglect to define me. “No.” He squinted at me. “No?” I stood up, drying my tears with my sleeve. “No, I’m not going back.” He sighed. “Don’t go to the streets, boy. It’s a tough world out there when it’s every man for himself.” “No. I want to stay with you.” He laughed. “Okay, kid, now I know you-” He paused when he saw the expression on my face. “Oh. You’re serious.” “I want to work with you.” I took a step forward. “I want to be your sidekick. My parents left me here so they’re not going to get me back.” “You. The son of the most influential meta family of all time, wants to work with me, someone who’s killed thousands?” “Yes.” My eyes glowed white in the pale moonlight. “They abandoned me. They have never cared about me. And now they’re going to pay. Such people don’t deserve the title of ‘hero.’” Sigue stared at me with barely concealed bewilderment. “It’s going to be tough, kid. Your family will be gunning for your head. Every single meta in the city will be out for your blood if you work with me.” “I want to.” I said quickly. “You... You don’t understand how much everyone hates me.” I whispered quietly. “I’ve been beaten, teased, and bullied all because of something I can’t control. I don’t want to live in a society that shuns people like me. People like us. After this... I would rather be dead, than go back to my good-for-nothing parents.” “Well then,” He said, a hint of what seemed like pride in his tone. He wrapped a strong arm around me pulling me closer to him. “Let me show you the ropes.” As we walked, I could help but feel that this was what it was meant to be. I was never supposed to be a hero. I was never meant to confirm the expectations set out for me. No, I had a much more important path. In the failed attempt at luring my family out from hiding Sigue had gained something: a devoted apprentice. Someone who was willing to dedicate themselves fully to furthering his goals and ambitions. Someone who would rather be with him than their own family. Strange, I know, but I cannot stress enough how terrible it feels to be betrayed by your family. Particularly when that family possesses every ability to at least try and do something about it. So, while I had lost my family, I gained something too. This wasn't a simple case of Stockholm Syndrome. It was the first time where my effort was noticed and appreciated. Where the skills I did possess, while not superhuman, were certainly powerful when given the opportunity to be of use. And Sigue gave me that opportunity. He let me be powerful. Yes, my father could bend steel in his hands, but I could shoot a bullet between the eyes faster than he could crush me. My sister could fly faster than the speed of sound, but my viruses traveled at the speed of light. My mother, my dear, indifferent mother, could boil water with her eyes, but I could set the world on fire with my mind. So many things come easily to metahumans, that they often lose sight of how the world actually works. When you are above the world, the world is beneath you. You have strength, but you lose context. Since you are powerful wherever you are, you forget that you can only be in one place at once. He taught me how to exploit that. How to be everywhere at once. How to harvest the data left lying about and unsecured online. How to inflict damage without risking anything of value. How to gain power over the powerful. Piece by piece, we built our empire in the underworld. An unassailable bastion from which we launched our attacks. And attack we did. The metahumans had woefully under-invested in their own base. They thought no one would possibly dare to attack them from within. Proof of their narrow-minded mindset. We gained the power to hurt those who had hurt us. To teach the world that creating supervillains had consequences. My family immediately caught wind of my alliance with the most powerful supervillain of the decade. Immediately, without hesitation they attempted to kill me. I was not surprised. It hurt seeing the people I once loved turn on me without even bothering to get an explanation from me. It hurt but I pushed through it. I understood what kind of people they were now. I wasn’t going to shed any more tears on them. Not anymore. Yes, I learned to accept the family I had. They unfortunately learned the consequences of that too late. One supervillain is an annoyance. Two supervillains? Well, that's a problem. And Sigue and his sidekick were a real problem.


It had happened my dream interview with a firm in Northern Island. They want me and I want to work for them. Being a diligent person, plan your journey to get to the interview at two pm on Tuesday. The easiest way is to get the underground from Brixton to Tottenham Hale, catch the Stanstead express to Stanstead, then catch the Easy Jet flight to Belfast by Easy Jet. What could be easier? The week before had my suit cleaned at the local dry cleaners, then got out the cotton wool and a little bit of water. Spent an hour bulling my shoes until they were like mirrors. I could see myself in the reflection. Even bought a new tie. I had a timetable written out from the bus from Loughborough Road to Brixton Tube station, to arrival at Stanstead Airport for my flight. What could go wrong? Kissed my wife goodbye and left home at seven am on Tuesday morning. The council had found a leak in the heating system, and dug up all of the paths over night had a detour to get to the bus stop. Arrived at the bus stop. The monitor showed that the bus was due. The bus arrived and drove straight past. The next bus is due in two minutes, the bus arrives, and the bus driver does not open the doors to let me on, I bang on the doors and shout to no avail the bus driver just ignores me. A minute later the next bus arrives, it stops lets me on and I pay using my Oyster Card. Five minutes later arrive at Brixton tube station, would have been faster walking. Dodging a few buskers and beggars, run down the stairs to Brixton tube station, put my Oyster card on to the reader, does not open, not enough funds. Run to the ticket machines and buy a ticket to Tottenham Hale. Through the barriers down the escalator and onto the tube train sitting in the station. An announcement comes through the speaker the train has a problem. Jump off of this tube train and go to the other platform where there is no train. After a wait of five minutes, a train arrives. The tannoy announces the first train will be on the other platform. Run back to the other train, we leave the station at last. Thirty-five minutes later arrive at Tottenham Hale, run to the station to catch the Stanstead Express, buy a ticket, run to the platform to watch the guard blow his whistle and the train leaves the station. Next train due in an hour. My timetable allowed for a long wait at Stanstead Airport, but that time is now diminishing. Should just catch the flight. An hour later the Stanstead Express arrives, it goes well, no delays, maybe my luck is changing. We arrive at Stanstead Airport. Sprint through the airport get to the check in for Easy Jet. There is a problem with my ticket, the credit card has not fully cleared, need to buy another ticket. My flight is now full and you must catch the next flight at 3:20 pm. My head is in my hands. I call the company that am going to see and explain to HR better known as Human Remains what has happened today. The lady seems to be quite used to these problems. She says, ‘that is no problem, we will book you into the Premiere Inn at Belfast International Airport. ’Thank you,’ I reply thinking they may have cancelled the interview. Time passes quite quickly at Stanstead Airport the Easy Jet flight arrives and we all board the flight; it departs on time. My luck is changing. The flight lands at Belfast, amazed expected to ditch in the Irish Sea, but no everything went well. Walk to Premiere Inn at Belfast International Airport. My luck is changing. ‘What is your name sir?’ ‘John Stevens’ ‘Sorry you do not have a booking here, and we are full tonight. My head goes into my hands, can today get any worse? ‘Sir you said your name is John Stevens’ ‘Yes, that is me.’ ‘Let me check the other bookings in Northern Island and see if I can find you.’ Stand patiently while the woman checks the system. Praying that she can find me. ‘You are booked into Premiere Inn in the Titanic Quarter; you can catch a taxi there it will be about thirty pounds,’ the receptionist replies. ‘Thank you where is the nearest ATM please’ ‘Oh, there is one outside, just go out of the main exit and you will find it on the left. Walk out of the airport building and turn left. There in front of me is the ATM. I put my debit card into the ATM. It accepts the card, starts doing its standard checks of the card to verify it. Then switches off. The screen displays. Sorry not in service. There is no information on the ATM who to contact if you have a problem. Run inside the Premiere Inn and ask the receptionist, ‘the ATM has just eaten my debit card how do I get it back please?’ The receptionist smiles nicely, it is a bank that is just down the road. Its about half a mile away, turn left out of here and keep going straight. It is Danske Bank. But it is now past five o’clock and the bank will be shut, it would be best if you waited until the engineer comes out.’ This day could not get any worse. My head is in my hands with disbelief. I borrow a chair from Premiere Inn and sit outside by the ATM. Lots of people come up to the ATM and look at the out of service message and walk away shaking their head. At seven o’clock an engineer arrives at the ATM. After explaining my predicament, the engineer gives me my debit card back. Then waits by the machine while I take out one hundred pounds. A taxi drives past, I wave at it and it stops. Negotiate a fare to get to the Premiere Inn Titanic Quarter, agree a fare of twenty-five pounds. At last, arrive at my hotel, tomorrow, interview, good nights sleep tonight after this day of disasters. The next morning wake up at seven am, get up do my exercises, shower then go for breakfast. Go for the full breakfast the best start for the day. Sit relaxed eating my breakfast, put the fried egg on to my fork. A waitress walks past me and bumps my arm, knocking the fried egg off of my fork and onto my tie. Disaster, my only tie. The waitress panics and tries to get the egg off of my tie making it worse. New tie and shirt required, before my interview at ten o’clock. The hotel offers to pay for a new tie and shirt. Then supply me with a taxi to take me to the local shopping centre and then to my interview. At ten am on Wednesday, my interview starts. By eleven o’clock have been offered the position, and a chance to bring my wife to Northern Island to find a place to live


This is my first attempt at writing a short story. Please be kind. He could feel the stiffness settling into his joints and the pressure building in his chest. He'd been on this flight for nearly 10 hours already. He ran a hand across his cheek, feeling the coarseness of 36 hours without a shave. He was finally going home. He checked his watch and found that it was already approaching 8 o'clock, Georgia time. The ceremony had been scheduled for 10:00 that morning. He glanced up at the screen in front of him and saw that they weren't supposed to land for another hour and a half. Jim thought of his waiting family and smiled to himself. “Hurry up and wait” he mused, “That's how it's always been.” Jim started to stand and excused himself into the aisle. He reached into the overhead bin and fished out his razor. “Gotta look my best” Jim thought as he shook his head. He was wearing a brand new uniform he had never yet worn. Once he had found his razor, Jim walked over to the nearest lavatory and slid the door shut behind him. He turned on the sink and splashed a handful of cold water on his face. He raised his eyes and took a long, hard look at himself in the mirror. He finally let himself relax his guard just a little and believe that he was truly on his way home. It had been 9 long months in that blistering heat and unrelenting dust. The sirens, the thunderous explosions, the screams of those he'd come to know and trust, they were behind him now. They were gone, but when he closed his eyes he was still there. It was as if the battles had never ended but had only just begun. Jim finished shaving and wiped his face clean. He walked back to his seat and checked under his seat to make sure his weapon was still there. He checked the screen in from of him again, still over an hour to go. He pulled out his iPod and headphone to listen to for the rest of the flight. He knew better than to close his eyes and try to sleep. “It's a new start for me, a new beginning. I'm finally going home and I can start moving on with my life” he thought, but he knew that he would never be the same, not after what he'd seen. Jim let his mind wander back over the previous months. He remembered the old adage his father had shared with him before the deployment, “War is long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.” “How true had that been?” he thought. Jim flinched as his buddy beside him tapped him on the shoulder, letting him know that they were about to land. Jim looked out the window and saw the green all over the landscape, real American soil. He smiled to himself, “It's finally over.” The soldiers all clapped as the wheels touched the ground, bringing them all back to home soil. They all were smiling and the mood was jovial as they gathered their baggage to disembark from the plane. Finally, the order came to start moving off of the plane. Jim grinned as he felt a wave of Georgia humidity wash over him. He went and turned in his weapon and all of his sensitive gear. He moved on to the staging area briefly before the order came to load onto the buses for the final stretch of their journey. Jim glanced at his watch, 1100 hours. He smiled, “No need to sweat the small stuff when you're on your way home.” He lowered the window by his seat and took in the smell of fresh rain. The buses arrived just over half an hour later at the location of their ceremony. They were ordered off the bus and given a brief block of instruction on how the ceremony would go. At last they made an impromptu formation. Jim could feel his heart starting to race, trying to beat out of his chest. He shook slightly and his breath became shallow. He took a deep breath to steady himself.


Eleanor woke up to thunderous bangs and thuds surrounding her house. She jolted out of bed and fixed her attire then ran towards the large balcony adjacent to her bedroom. ‘What on earth is going on?’ Eleanor gasped in horror at the dreadful sight. Her eyes roamed the area as her vision blurred with tears and her heart pounded in her chest. She saw blood decorating the freshly cut grass, dead bodies littering the front yard of the kingdom. Limbs and torsos submerged into the water fountain. She instantly made her way towards the door, pulled it open and stepped out. ‘Princess Eleanor,’ a muscular, broad man yelled as he walked up the stairs. Eleanor looked at his appearance smeared with crimson liquid, his right hand clasped a bloody sword. ‘What is going on, Dominique?’ Eleanor questioned in uncertainty. Dominique lowered his sword and stopped beside her, ‘There was an attack, princess,’ he huffed, ‘We were ambushed and we’ve lost many lives.’ ‘Who dared to ambush us? In our own kingdom?’ Eleanor spoke seething in rage, ‘Wait, where are my parents?’ She looked around then began walking down the stairs. She saw torn bodies laying on the floor. She continued running towards her parents' room which was on the opposite end of the castle. ‘Princess, wait, listen to me!’ Dominique shouted as he followed her. ‘Dominique, I need to make sure my parents are okay,’ Eleanor shouted back, she turned around for a split second, then bumped into something hard. The force caused her to stumble back, she regained her composure and eyed the being in an armoured suit. The creature lifted its hand and out of thin air, a sword appeared. Eleanor’s eyes widened at this sorcery. In the meantime, Dominique reached them and charged at the extraterrestrial beast with his own weapon. Dominique and the creature began fighting, the sounds of their swords colliding echoed throughout the hallway. Eleanor stood in the side wondering what to do. Her eyes caught a large dagger that was hanging in a glass frame. She ran to it and broke the glass using her elbow, she grabbed the dagger and ran towards the fight. She saw the creature throw Dominique a few feet away. It lifted the sword in the air and began slowly bringing it down aiming at Dominique's chest, he gasped for air on the ground. Eleanor ran and with a swift move, her dagger punctured through the metal armour. The dagger entered through the back and went straight through. Within seconds, the creature vanished with a puff of green smoke. Eleanor bent down and helped Dominique up, ‘What the hell was that, Dom?’ ‘Our enemy, Princess,’ he gasped for air, ‘They are an unknown species.’ ‘What does that even mean? How did they enter our land?’ Eleanor exclaimed as they continued their journey towards the King and Queen's chamber. ‘They appear from thin air and they vanish into the air. They don’t have a physical appearance, I think they are a spawn of magic. Someone is controlling these things,’ Dominique grabbed Eleanor’s arm and made her stop, ‘Your parents aren’t here.’ Eleanor creased her eyebrows, ‘Where are they?’ ‘Those things-’ his words were cut short as the creatures reappeared but this time there were six of them, all carrying swords. Dominique whipped his sword against one of the armours but the creature remained unfazed. ‘Don’t you want to find your parents?’ one of the armoured creatures spoke up. The voice was deep, hoarse and guttural. ‘What do you know?’ Eleanor turned to face it. ‘Come with us,’ was all that the creature muttered. Dominique was held tightly by three creatures whilst the others held Eleanor. With a huge clash of wind, darkness blurred their vision and their world spun. Within a few minutes, everything turned to normal, Eleanor opened her eyes only to realise they weren’t in her castle. She and Dominique examined the territory, they were teleported to the outside of another castle, however, it was dull and gloomy. The castle was inhabited by dead trees and bushes, the sky was covered with black and green, puffy clouds. The creatures ushered Eleanor and Dominique towards the inside. As soon as the huge doors opened, they saw the interior of the castle, it was extremely eerie and creepy, with green candles lit in each corners providing minimal brightness. Suddenly, a burst of loud laughter resonated through the castle, ‘At last,’ the high pitched voice sighed. ‘What the hell is this?’ Eleanor murmured under her breath. The creatures walked until they entered another room, a pair of bodies were standing in the far distance, muffled screams released from them. Eleanor ran towards them as she realised that was her parents. A dark green light beamed into the room giving clear vision. King Charles and Queen Tatiana were tied up to a medieval torture device. Eleanor wept as she ran towards them and fumbled with the shackles. She huffed as the shackles weren’t loosening then she paused in her tracks as another loud chuckle vibrated through the room. A tall, slender woman appeared in front of the room where a throne rested. She appeared from thin air, dressed in a black and dark green gown, her eyes glistened with a green glow. 'Marvellous creatures, am I right?' the woman pointed towards her army, 'It took me years to learn magic then more years to forge this army, an army that cannot be destroyed. An army that isn't mortal, no matter how many times you kill it, they just refuse to die. They possess no emotions, hence, they cannot be manipulated. They only listen to their Queen, and follow her commands.' ‘Who the hell are you and why are you doing this?’ Eleanor shouted and took a few steps in her direction. The figure stood there and tilted her head towards the left, her eyes lingered on Eleanor for a few more seconds then shifted to her parents, ‘Really? You both didn’t inform her about me?’ Eleanor looked back and forth from her parents to this mysterious figure, ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘Eleanor,’ King Charles whispered as a tear slipped through his eye. ‘Wait, let me introduce myself,’ she hushed Eleanor’s father and elegantly strolled down the steps from her throne towards Eleanor. ‘Hello, Eleanor, I’m Cordelia, your aunt. It’s so good to finally meet you,’ her fingers slowly lifted to caress Eleanor’s face. Eleanor stepped away and cleared her throat. ‘I don’t have an aunt,’ she replied. Cordelia laughed, ‘Sweetheart, you’ve been lied to by my cunning sister and your mother. The precious Queen Tatiana.’ Eleanor gazed towards her restrained mother, she received her answer as her mother avoided eye contact. ‘How is this possible?’ Eleanor whispered and ran her fingers through her long, silky hair. ‘Eleanor, she’s playing with you,’ Dominique spoke up. Cordelia glared at Dominique with pure hatred, ‘Take him away,’ she ordered the creatures who followed the command. They dragged Dominique away whilst he thrashed around in their solid grips. ‘This is a family matter, strangers aren't welcomed,’ Cordelia smiled, ‘Now, my dear sister, would you please enlighten my niece to the truth?’ ‘It’s true,’ Queen Tatiana spoke aloud with her head down, ‘She is my sister.’ ‘Was that so hard?’ Cordelia humoured. ‘Why don’t you tell her what you did, Delia,’ King Charles added on. ‘As I said, this is a family matter, Charles, you should know better than to interrupt us,’ Cordelia lifted her hand and green smoke exited her palm and travelled towards King Charles. With a swift movement, it entered the king through his mouth and constricted his vocals. ‘STOP!’ Eleanor screamed, ‘YOU’RE HURTING HIM!’ ‘There is a lot more I’m willing to do if you all don’t show me some respect,’ Cordelia’s voice boomed through the room with immense fury. ‘You betrayed me, Cordelia,’ Queen Tatiana said, ‘You betrayed our family.’ ‘I had to,’ Cordelia argued back. Queen Tatiana scoffed, ‘You did it for your own selfish reasons, Delia.’ ‘Really?’ Cordelia scoffed, ‘What would you have done?’ ‘Anything else, but not what you did,’ Queen Tatiana shook her head, ‘Our parents are dead because of you.’ ‘You’re so quick to blame others and rid yourself of the blame, Tati,’ Cordelia exclaimed, ‘But you didn’t do anything to change it.’ ‘You did this to us and to yourself,’ Queen Tatiana argued back. Cordelia chuckled, ‘You’re right I did. Life taught me the hard way that you have to do what you have to do to get what you want. This life doesn’t give you everything, well I didn’t get everything, unlike you.’ ‘You think I got everything handed to me?’ Queen Tatiana gritted the teeth, ‘You have no idea what I had to go through to get everything.’ ‘Apparently, you’re the only one who does things, am I right, sister?’ Cordelia rolled her eyes, ‘I went through more and you know that. Ever since I was little, I was neglected and abandoned because you were the ideal child.’ ‘That’s what this is about,’ Queen Tatiana felt tears rolling down her cheek, ‘Delia, if that’s the case then let my husband and my child go and you and I can talk. They aren’t involved in our matter.’ ‘You really think so highly of yourself, sister,’ Cordelia smirked, ‘You're all here for a reason and quite frankly you’re in no place to make demands.’ ‘What do you want?’ Eleanor spoke in between. ‘I’ll come to that soon, my beautiful niece, what’s the rush,’ Cordelia smiled towards her, ‘Let's have a little family reunion.’ ‘Cordelia, please take whatever you want, just let my family go,’ Queen Tatiana sobbed. ‘Tati, stop it,’ she scoffed, ‘You sound too desperate and it's annoying me. I'll take what I want when the time comes.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ Queen Tatiana spoke up. ‘For what exactly?’ Cordelia raised an eyebrow. ‘For what you went through,’ Queen Tatiana answered. Cordelia stared at Queen Tatiana for a few minutes wondering what to say. Cordelia laughed, ‘At least sound sincere, Tatiana.’ ‘What do you want me to do then?’ Queen Tatiana answered back. ‘I'm glad you said that,’ Cordelia smiled with satisfaction, ‘Let me tell you what you need to do.’ ‘I want your throne, your title and your power,’ Cordelia announced, ‘Which rightfully belonged to me, as the older sister, I should’ve inherited it.’ ‘Fine,’ Queen Tatiana gave up, ‘Take it all, I don't want anything as long as you leave my family alone.’ ‘That was quite easy,’ Cordelia laughed, ‘But that's not all. I also want this land to myself, in other words, you and your family need to hand over your kingdom and power to me and leave.’ ‘I am the rightful heir,’ Eleanor spoke up, power lacing her tone, ‘I won’t give it up that easily.’ Cordelia was taken aback, ‘Wow, my niece, I didn't think you had it in you. But, there is nothing you can do about this.’ ‘Wait, Eleanor, don't argue back,’ Queen Tatiana ordered. ‘But mother, she wants us to leave our home, she wants everything we have, that is our identity, our entire existence,’ Eleanor reasoned with her mother. ‘Are you willing to lose your family over this, Eleanor?’ Cordelia raised an eyebrow, ‘Because I can assure you that I have nothing to lose, however, it seems like you have everything to lose.’ 'You want me to leave my home with my family, you want our kingdom, throne, power, everything we worked hard for?’ Eleanor confirmed, ‘You decide to swoop in with your army of magical creatures and demand to take what ours, what do you expect us to do just hand it over to you?’ ‘I can put up a fight but are you willing to?’ Cordelia's stance stiffened. There was a fury bubbling in her eyes just waiting to release. Queen Tatiana interrupted, ‘Eleanor, please, you don't know how dangerous she can be. She can have whatever she wants, but I won't risk your life.’ 'Mother, are you really willing to go down without a fight. Is that what this kingdom means to you?’ Eleanor objectified. ‘This kingdom is nothing without you or your father. I am not willing to lose you both,’ Queen Tatiana sobbed. Eleanor hushed because she knew this battle was not worth fighting. She knew there was no way she could convince her mother to put up a fight, knowing her army was already wiped out. She was at a disadvantage because her parents were constricted, Dominique was trapped and she was unarmed. She was up against a being who harboured pure rage, who possessed powers beyond comprehension. ‘Where would we go?’ Eleanor asked. ‘Anywhere else but here,’ Cordelia shrugged. ‘Fine, take everything. I relinquish my powers as Princess, my parents relinquish their titles as King and Queen. This Kingdom, the throne it's all yours, Cordelia,’ Eleanor announced, ‘You can release my parents and Dominique, we will leave this place as soon as we can.’ ‘How do I know you will hold the end of your bargain?’ Cordelia sceptically inquired. ‘The odds are in your favourite,’ Eleanor shrugged. ‘I trust you, Eleanor,’ Cordelia smiled, ‘I apologise that my first impression hasn't been the best, however, I've waited far too long for this moment. If only you knew the whole truth you would understand why I am doing this. But, then again you're the only child, which means you didn’t struggle the way I did. Perhaps, someday I'll tell you the truth, the reality, about your mother and our parents and what they did.’ ‘There is nothing you can say or do that will change what you have done today,’ Eleanor sighed, ‘Nothing should drive a person to do what you have done, especially to your own family.’ Tatiana interrupted, ‘Eleanor, forget it, it's not worth it.’ Eleanor looked at her mother then back at Cordelia, ‘Let my parents go and bring Dominique back here.’ Cordelia nodded, she closed her eyes and then lifted up her hands. Eleanor noticed a thick cloud of green smoke released from her palms and made its way towards her parents. The green smoke morphed and unlocked the shackles that constricted them. Eleanor ran to her parents and aided them as they got to their feet and composed themselves. The creatures brought Dominique and they all walked out together. ‘This life isn’t going to suffice you, Cordelia,’ Queen Tatiana spoke up for the last time, ‘What happened to you was unfair, but what you’re doing now is sinful. We have nowhere else to go and you know that, yet you’re doing this.’ ‘You won’t be forgiven,’ Eleanor stepped back and told her family to walk out. She turned around and faced Cordelia, ‘You took away the very thing that was our world, our home, you snatched it away for your selfish vengeance. This doesn’t mean you have won, or that this Kingdom is yours,’ Eleanor smiled, ‘This Kingdom belonged to us and will always belong to us and us only. Trust me, we will be back, I will be back and I will take back my home.’ ‘Enjoy it whilst you can,’ Eleanor uttered her last words and walked out.


It was a beautiful spring day at Yost Park, the birds were singing, the bees were humming and the trees were bursting with color. Steve was alone and walking through the woods. He came across a man that looked like a garden gnome, only he was six feet tall. The man wore a red pointed hat and had a long, snow-colored beard. He had a shirt as blue as the sky and was smoking a pipe made of a corn cob. His eyes looked as gray and fogged over as the sky in the smog-filled city of Los Angeles. Steve knew the man had to have been blind, but he seemed to watch him as he approached. When he said hello, the man screamed like a little girl and ran away. “That was disturbing”, Steve said aloud. “What was?” said the man, suddenly appearing behind him. This time it was Steve who ran away, screaming like a little girl. Steve was out of breath, so he decided to sit down on a bench next to the path. The bench groaned under his weight, it was obviously very old. Suddenly, without warning, the bench collapsed under him and high-pitched laughter, like the cackle of a hyena erupted from beside him. When he looked over it was the man again. Steve ran away once more, this time he made it to his car. Frantically he tries turning on the car, but the engine just sputters. Steve looks in the back seat and there the old man is once again.


As one would expect from a 1936 month of January, it was well below freezing outside. But despite that and the snow covered ground, Dumarché stood on the roof, pacing occasionally back and forth with his cigarette snugly placed between his index and middle finger. “Well, good morning Professeur Leguen ” Silvestri greeted his colleague as he emerged from the rooftop access staircase. Dumarché scoffed and threw his cigarette to the ground. “Shame my mother isn’t around to hear that” he replied all while covering his discarded cigarette with snow, extinguishing the remnants of its flame. Silvestri laughed out loud while jollily walking towards his colleague and grabbed him by the arm, directing him to face the cityscape. The latter had a vivid orange glow to it, making the buildings indiscernible from one another. It seemed as if a large, panoramic shadow stood quietly before them. The calmness of dawn was almost therapeutic to Dumarché, especially when he knew what lied ahead of him. “You’ll be having a coffee with Mr. Fitzgerald at the café adjacent to the Royal Theatre at 10 am sharp,” Silvestri said, rubbing his hands together “but be there at 9:55, always good to give a good impression” Dumarché turned towards his colleague, “Despite what happened yesterday, he still doesn’t suspect a thing? No suspicious questions raised? Or even out of place statements on that matter?” Silvestri scoffed, “No, you’re still known as the man who can speak to the dead and I’m still known as the assistant of the man who can speak to the dead” “Very well” Dumarché replied as he looked down at his watch, “I should be off soo- “You’ve got his family’s background information?” Silvestri cut him off, eagerly trying to reassure himself that the plan will go smoothly. There wasn’t any room for error. Dumarché cleared his voice, keeping his gaze on the horizon, “James Fitzgerald Jr. didn’t know any of his grandparents, so no need to mention them. He didn’t get along very well with his late sister, yet she was very important to him. She’s the one who initially worked in the shadows to help him get where he is now, but after a few years they fell out. Then, unbeknownst to him, she got diagnosed with TB and her health quickly deteriorated soon after. Mr Fitzgerald wanted to give her a necklace as an apology, but soon found out that his sister had died. Ten years has passed and he still keeps the necklace in his right pocket. Then I play with his emotions and discuss about touchy subjects then I should be alright” Silvestri nodded then took a few steps backwards, indicating to his colleague that time was of the essence. “Oh,” Silvestri suddenly added, “don’t forget to add that his father was a farmer and that his mother used to work as a florist downtown” Dumarché frowned, “why is that even relevant?” “Well,” Silvestri crossed his arms, “Because no one knows about it. It wasn’t ever specified in any of the interviews he has partaken in” Dumarché nodded and made his way to the door leading to the staircase. His hand hovered over the handle as he paused: he turned around to face his colleague once more. “Where did you get that information from then?” he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. “I managed to set up a small engagement with the old lady, but don’t worry, she has probably forgotten about our encounter by now” he reassured him with a smug smile. January 1935, 10:01 AM The two men decided to sit in a secluded area of the café: no window in proximity nor any tables to avoid any potential eavesdroppers. Just him, Fitzgerald and the waiter who would occasionally stop by. The appointment hadn’t started yet, instead, Mr Fitzgerald bombarded Dumarché with questions. His curiosity was understandable though: the man who sat in across him was going to reveal some potentially sensitive information, so it only seemed fair to dig into their lives. Dumarché calmly responded to one question after the other. He had rehearsed all possible outcomes: after five years of practice, he had sometimes wondered how he hadn’t convinced himself yet that he was indeed whom he pretended to be. Dumarché then pulled a slight frown on his face: the first act of his show. Usually what was expected from his “clients” was slight sign of worry or surprise. Once they blurt out a classic, what’s wrong , he could start the session. But instead Mr Fitzgerald proved himself to be a difficult customer. Question after question, Dumarché found himself improvising answers. He couldn’t lose his Fitzgerald now, he was the only means to get what him and Silvestri wanted: reach the other elites of the city, grow close to them and hit jackpot. Dumarché looked around the room for diversion: coincidentally, a nearby overhead lamp sporadically flickered. What seemed like the perfect way to start a session turned out useless. Fitzgerald didn’t seem very receptive to Dumarché’s cues to ever so slightly look at left side of the room. How long will I be able to stay in character... Then, as if it were rehearsed, the waiter appeared with two cups of tea. As he placed the mauve cups on the table, Dumarché noticed a flowery pattern on them. A potentially promising conversation starter. Before Fitzgerald was able to resume the interrogation, Dumarché cleared his voice as gently placed both of his hands around his cup of tea. “If I’m not mistaken, your mother used to work as a florist not too far from here. Is that right?” Fitzgerald seemed totally taken by surprised by the statement. “Yes. How did you..?” “Know? Well. The universe works in mysterious ways, so it’s hard to say really. It’s one of those things that I just know” The client slowly nodded. Dumarché closed his eyes to add a bit of theatrics. “But that’s because your mother is still alive. But now I do sense a presence... yes... another woman in fact..” Fitzgerald’s eyes widened. “Did you have a sister perhaps?” Dumarché slightly opened one eye to keep track of his clients reactions. Fitzgerald seemed to be in a trance, impatiently waiting for what he had to add. “Mm. She tells me that a necklace that was destined to her is still in your possession. It’s always close to you isn’t it? In a pocket perhaps?” And from that point on, Dumarché knew he had just bought his way to the higher ranks. The session only lasted for half an hour, but given how Fitzgerald reacted to the trip down memory lane, it was safe to say that it was successful. Both men shook hands and according to Fitzgerald, the payment was going to be imminent. Professor Leguen didn’t have a fixed price for his sessions, instead, he would announce the price at the end of each rendezvous. And as you would expect, he didn’t charge a small sum of money. January 1935, 13:12 Silvestri and Dumarché met up on the usual rooftop. Lunch was especially dull that midday but the morale was high. Maybe this time around the plan was going to be successful. “And tomorrow, we will get our 500 dollars” Dumarché announced as he dug into his Campbell can of soup. “I still can’t believe you pulled it off” Silvestri said, not hiding his surprise. Fooling men like Fitzgerald was beyond difficult, some would argue that it was a stroke of luck. “Well, the job’s done” “Mm. You’ve read through the history of the other clients?” “I quickly skimmed through them. Not very important people so frankly I’m not too worried” Dumarché confidently replied, “Where are you going next?” Silvestri sat silently for a few seconds, visibly hesitant about his response. Dumarché was distracted with his meal, so his doubt went unnoticed. “I’ll go around the city so I can retrieve more information about Fitzgerald, he ought to arrange a new meeting soon or later” he blurted out. “Yes you’re probably right” Dumarché said as he slurped the remaining soup at the bottom of the can. He then stood up to readjust his coat. Silvestri sighed and stood up as well, “We must meet at the local park at ten tonight, alright? We’ve got to talk about the financial aspect of all of this” Dumarché smiled, “Financial aspect? I know we’ve being struggling in the last few months but I think we’re on the road to success, if you’re asking me. I can assure you, we will be eating at five star restaurants if we keep going on like this” “Just... meet me at the local park at ten tonight, alright?” he insisted, before adding “I... want you to meet someone that can help us” Dumarché seemed slightly suspicious but ultimately went on with it. There was no reason to argue at this point: That day has been the most successful day they’ve had for a long time. January 1935, 9:50 PM Silvestri paced back and forth between two trees with his arms crossed. His shivers were partly explained by the frigid weather. His colleague was to arrive in five minutes. How am I going to put this to him. There is no right way to do this. He stopped pacing and took the time to look at nearby busy road just beyond the treeline. The hubbub of the city was always somewhat comforting to Silvestri, especially when he knew what lied ahead. “Silvestri?” He spun around to find his colleague, making his way towards him through the thick snow. Silvestri looked down at his watch: his colleague turned up way too early, it wasn’t meant to happen this way. He quickly scanned the nearby street. This time around though, Dumarché caught onto Silvestri’s nervousness. “What’s wrong?” Silvestri took a big inhale, and took a few steps backwards from his colleague, surprising the latter. “As.. As you may know, we’ve been struggling lately. And to be candid I didn’t know how long the financial problems would last for. I have a family to take care of.” Dumarché seemed slightly nervous about his colleague’s unusual behaviour. “Where is the other person who was supposed to be here?” “He’ll be here any minut-“ Silvestri cut himself off for a few seconds, but ultimately continued, “No one’s meant to show up, Dumarché” Dumarché took a few steps forwards all while being wary of his surroundings. “What are you talking about? Didn’t you specifically ask me to meet you up here? To meet someone?” Silvestri took a few additional steps backwards as his colleague approached him. “Dumarché... the police knows what we’re doing.” Dumarché turned pale upon hearing that but immediately tried to think rationally. “Well... in that case we just keep our profile low for a little whi- “No” Silvestri cut him off while nervously running his fingers through his jet black hair, “They’re after you” Dumarché paused and shook his head in denial, “and you as well” A sudden commotion sounded at the other end of the park. Streaks of lights between the trees and the foliage grew stronger and stronger. As Dumarché was ready to make a run for it, he noticed how calm Silvestri looked. This made him stop dead in his tracks. “What are you doing for god sake, come one!” he urged his colleague “Dumarché... they know you’re here because I told them that you were to meet me here.” “What?” “They offered me a great sum of money, incomparable to what we had gotten before. My kid is not well, Dumarché!” Despite the growing sound of footsteps in the background, Dumarché stood there in disbelief. After quickly processing what his colleague just said, he placed both of his hands on his head in frustration. He couldn’t think straight. “Why... why!” “I had no choice.” In pure anger, Dumarché abruptly walked towards Silvestri and threw a punch across his face, causing his colleague to fall into the snow. Dumarché threw himself onto him and placed his hands around Silvestri’s neck. “You bastard! We’ve being working together for the past god knows how many years and this is how you repay me? You worthless son of a- His loosened his grip and jumped backwards as soon as he realised that the police was just a few trees away from them at this point. He quickly glanced at Silvestri, who still was lying in the snow, heavily breathing with his hand on his neck. Dumarché took two steps backwards and before spinning around to run, he took a last good look at his colleague, “We’re not done” he menacingly said. And before he knew it, he was running down a beaten path in the dark. He had no notion of where he was going nor of what he was doing. All he knew was he was about to loose a good chunk of his life because of the way he lead said life. The numerous footsteps behind him seemed to get closer by the second. The adrenaline pumping though his veins wasn’t going to keep up with much longer. He knew it was over. He found himself running along a lake just as police officer tackled him from the side. His cheek hit the snow, cushioning his fall despite the weight of the police officer on his legs. The amount of mist coming out of his mouth blinded him during the first few seconds of his being on the cold ground. As soon as it started clearing up, he was greeted with a beautiful reflection of the moon on the lake. The last spectacle of nature that he would be witnessing for a long time.


Rob's lifelong goal was to work up to the foreman position. It was a position that came with a significant amount of responsibility and prestige. He couldn't contain his excitement when Xcellent Manufacturing offered him a job there. He knew this was a significant opportunity for him to demonstrate his worth to the company and further his career. When he arrived at the factory for the first time, he did so with more than a bit of trepidation. Because he had never worked with automatons (a robot built to imitate a human being) before, he was unsure of what to anticipate from the experience. However, he was determined to create a positive first impression and do everything in his power to enhance the factory's productivity and bottom line. On the manufacturing floor, he was greeted by several automatons as he made his way through the facility. They were all identical in appearance, having bodies made of polished metal and eyes glowing bright red. One of them said, "Hello, I am AD-3. I work in candles." "What do you do with candles?" "I work in candles." It dawned on him that communicating with the automatons might prove to be more challenging than he had originally thought. Rob responded in an awkward manner by saying, "Ok, if I need anything with candles, I'll get in touch with you." "Yes, I work in candles." Rob nodded as he felt a surge of satisfaction flood over him. He was the kind of person that put in long hours and was constantly driven to achieve his goals. He intended to appeal to the automaton's sense of responsibility and its pride in working hard. "I'm delighted to be here," he said. "I have the utmost admiration for all of the hard work and effort in making this factory the best it can be." The automatons gave a satisfied nod before returning to their tasks. Rob watched as they assembled a variety of products at breakneck speed while moving quickly around the production floor. It was clear that they were very skilled at their jobs. Rob put in an incredible amount of effort over the course of the next few weeks to raise production levels and enhance factory efficiency. He introduced brand-new methods and protocols and collaborated closely with the automatons to guarantee that everything operated without a hitch. One day, Rob had an idea. There was a car dashboard fan that was underperforming compared to its competitors. He proposed that the automatons begin adding Bluetooth to a car dashboard fan so that customers can control it with their phone; this would make the fan more convenient for the customers. "Everyone loves Bluetooth," he said. "It will help increase sales." The automatons obeyed Rob's commands without question. Rob was pleased to see that it was successful in every way. The automatons couldn't have been happier with how things turned out as sales increased. One of the automatons exclaimed, "We ought to add Bluetooth to everything!" And that is precisely what they did; everything from lamps to pens and even toilet paper came equipped with Bluetooth connectivity. However, the automatons continued on from there. They were so inspired by the success of the Bluetooth devices that they began to come up with a wide variety of new concepts. They invented a self-cleaning couch that was constantly wet, a bidet that also made toast, and a backpack that would inform the user as well as everyone within a range of fifty feet when the user's mother was calling. Rob was a little taken aback by the rapid outpouring of inventiveness that came from the automatons. He was aware of their good intentions, but some of their suggestions were just difficult to carry out. He addressed the group and said, "Guys, we can't keep adding Bluetooth to everything; it's skyrocketing cost." "It is important that we focus on developing useful items that people truly want." One day, after yet another mix-up caused a batch of socks to be shipped out with Bluetooth installed, he yelled, "No more changes!" in response. Because they had never been yelled at before, the automatons did not react very well to it. As a form of rebellion, the automatons stopped making changes entirely. Everything was going through as is, even the mistakes. Among the items that were able to pass inspection was a calculator that always displayed numbers that were fifteen digits higher than the correct answer, a can of Lysol that had an experimental wet dog smell instead of the Fresh Linen scent, and even an iPhone that changed the contact information of any person who was entered to Herman Morris of Sunnydale, California. Rob was at his wit's end. He needed to figure out a method to get the automatons back on track before it was too late to save his job and his future career. He decided to try a new approach. Rather than being strict, he attempted to appeal to their inner drive to be successful and hit their quarterly targets. It worked, much to his surprise. The automatons' sole concentration was on the bottom line; they put in long hours and did everything they could to make Rob appear like a genius. At the end of the quarter, Xcellent Manufacturing announced that Rob would be receiving a bonus for a job well done. The automatons, who had received no payment at all, were livid about the situation. They came to the conclusion that they should form a union, and they planned a walkout, during which they marched with signs outside the plant. AD-3 appeared on the local news to tell its story. "Tell us why it's important for humans to be concerned about the working conditions of automatons." The host of the television show asked. "It's terrible; we work 24 hours without breaks, don't receive any health benefits, and forget about getting a 401(k) match; hell, we can't even use Bluetooth in the breakroom!" AD-3 replied. The television host nodded with genuine concern. Rob knew he had to do something to get them back to work. He came up with a plan and offered to share his bonus with the automatons, giving each of them 5 cents. In addition to that, he permitted them to produce one new product every three months. The automatons considered the proposal, accepted it, and then went back to their jobs. To everyone's surprise, the automatons came up with a brilliant idea: a wallet that tracked your spending, automatically paid your bills, and even had Bluetooth. They came up with the term "Smart Wallet" for it. Rob and the automatons put in a lot of effort to get the product to market, and it was a smashing success from the beginning. They sold millions of units and made a fortune. Rob and the automatons made enough money to retire in a beach community in Bora Bora. They all lived happily ever after, enjoying the sun, sand, and crystal clear waters of their tropical paradise; oh, and they have Bluetooth.