Isla del Paraiso was a picture of peace and serenity. Even the beautiful turquoise water surrounding it was still. Suddenly the silence was disturbed by a very excitable mermaid bursting through the water, swimming towards the sandy beach, flanked by a couple of playful dolphins. Aerwyna had a very good reason to be excited, the baby sea turtles were going to emerge from the sand tonight! They’d hatched several days ago but she got the news that they were going to finally come out of the hole/ nest that their mothers had made. She had to make sure that it all went smoothly. It was her job after all as one of the guardians of Isla del Paraiso, specifically the turtles’ nesting beach. “Wish me luck”, Aerwyna said to the dolphins as she hauled herself onto the beach. “Good luck!” the dolphins said through various clicks and whistles. They swam away while the mermaid waited patiently for her cerulean blue tail to change. It wasn’t long before the blue-green scales slowly disappeared, her tail splitting in two and morphing into a pair of legs. Aerwyna slowly stood up, wobbling slightly as she wasn’t quite used to being on legs for some time. Once she was sure that she wasn’t going to fall over, the young mermaid picked her way up the sandy beach to where the dusty path began. The brunette wandered up it to where a wooden cabin sat, her home away from home during the turtle hatchings. She ascended the steps and pushed open the door, stepping inside. The cabin itself was small which suited her fine. She didn’t need a big place for somewhere she only stayed in for a few nights at a time. On the left was the door to her bedroom, complete with ensuite bathroom. That was her first stop given that she wasn’t wearing anything. Contrary to popular belief, her people, specifically the females didn’t wear shells over their chests as they were covered in scales instead. Aerwyna went into her room and over to the dresser where she pulled out the first clothes that her hands came into contact with: purple tank top, denim shorts and underwear. She then pulled her long brown and cerulean dipped hair into a messy bun in order to keep it out of the way. Her next stop was for food. Aerwyna headed into the kitchen which was opposite the bedroom. She opened up the cupboards, pulling out a can of peaches. Canned food was the only thing that lasted long periods of time. There wasn’t much of it left either not that it was a problem given that the island had a plethora of fruit, coconuts and of course fish. The mermaid cracked open the can and settled down in one of the squashy chairs that was perfectly situated so that she could look out of the window at her home away from home. Aerwyna slowly ate the sweet peach slices as she watched various tropical birds flitter from tree to tree chattering away in their bird speak. The young mermaid couldn’t understand what they were saying unlike aquatic creatures, but they sounded happy. Once she’d finished the can, Aerwyna tipped the remaining syrup type liquid that kept the peaches so sweet onto a small dish which she set onto the porch. It wasn’t very long before a small flock of Bahamian Woodstar Hummingbirds landed on the wood and surrounded the dish. She smiled at the sight and headed back indoors. The brunette grabbed a book from one of the many shelves in the cabin and sat back in the same chair to do a little bit of reading. There she stayed for good several hours until she dozed off. It wasn’t a big surprise that she’d fallen asleep since she had been too excited the night before to get enough rest to make it through the day. When Aerwyna was jolted awake by a loud screech in her ear, the sun was going down. She rubbed the now ringing ear, glowering at the parrot that was perched on the back on her chair. She knew those unique colourings anywhere, it was the cheekiest bird on the whole entire island. He was very brazen too, not afraid to saunter into the cabin and pinch her food. The parrot cackled as if satisfied for scaring her awake and flew off, out of the cabin. Aerwyna rubbed her face, grumbling in her native tongue, cursing that blasted bird. Then she realised that the sun was setting! She jumped up from her chair and hurried over to the sink to splash cold water on her face to properly wake herself up. She fixed her bun and then headed out of the cabin toward the beach. As she grew closer to the nesting site the excitement in her grow. She actually did a little skip at how happy she was about this very special moment. Aerwyna settled down on the sand and awaited eagerly for the first signs of the hatchlings emerging. She didn’t have to wait very long before her chocolate brown and gold speckled eyes spied the soft ground start to shift in front of her. The mermaid leaned forward barely daring to breathe in case it prevented the baby turtles from appearing. She clapped a hand over her mouth to silence her squeals as one by one the hatchlings crawled out of the sand. Then all across the beach, more and more of them surfaced. Aerwyna slowly raised herself into a crouch and got to work ushering them toward the sea. As she’d successfully gotten a group of hatchlings to the water, she heard small cries of ‘help’. She spun around, eyes flashing in anger as she saw two crabs stalking toward some baby turtles. Aerwyna shot over to them, taking care not to step on the other terrapins that had yet to get off the beach. She kicked the crabs away and shielded them with her body, hissing at the crabs, daring them to try again. Thankfully they seemed to do the smart thing and scuttle off. “Thank you” , the hatchlings said in a series of small noises and pressing their small bodies to her, gratefully. “You’re welcome, now lets get you home”, Aerwyna said. She gently scooped them up and carried them to the water, setting them down when she got there. It was about a good four hours for every single hatchling to get into the water. Now that her job was done, Aerwyna tugged the hair band out of her hair, shaking it loose. She laid down on the beach and looked up the stars, one hand on her bare stomach, the other behind her head. She would spend another couple of days before she too headed into the depths of the sea.


I am from a tiny town in the middle of nowhere in Kansas. It is nice here, but this winter my family and I decided that in the upcoming summer we were going on a trip to Florida. We get to stay at the beautiful, tropical, and colorful beaches for an entire two weeks. Since I am lucky enough to have a summer birthday my mom, my two brothers and I go on vacation as a family every year around my birthday. I am fifteen, Craig is now eighteen, and Lane is eleven. One of our cousins, Leslie, who is twelve, recently moved closer to us with her family. Over the last year, Leslie and I have strengthened our relationship. I decided to ask mom if Leslie could come with us on this trip and thankfully my mom and Leslie's mom both agreed to let her come. The time finally rolled around where we were getting ready to head out for the tropical vacation ahead. The trip would take approximately twenty-one hours, excluding the time spent at stops. Even though we had three potential drivers, we did not leave until Mom got home from work around three o’clock. We decided to stay at a hotel that night. We stopped at a fast food restaurant for dinner near the eastern edge of Arkansas then checked into a hotel. It was around ten o’clock. My favorite part of staying at hotels is always swimming before we go to bed. We all got our swimsuits on and headed straight for the pool. We did not have much time to swim because the pool closed soon, but we still had fun. The next morning we packed up our bags, and right after breakfast, we headed for Florida once again. None of us kids got much sleep that night, so we slept in the car for a couple hours while Mom was driving. We finally made it to our resort in Florida. After getting everything gathered up, we brought all our belongings into our rooms. It was a little house with three bedrooms, a living room, and a small kitchen. The boys got one room, Leslie and I had another, and Mom had the last. The first day we did not have much time for anything big, so instead we just went exploring around the water by our resort and went swimming. Soon it became supper time and had started to get chilly, so we went inside and ate. At dinner, we were discussing what we should do tomorrow and decided that we would explore the city, find some elegant restaurants to eat at for the next two weeks, and find some exciting activities we could do together. The next morning we headed out. The first thing we did was find a place to eat breakfast. We knew we could not eat too much, because if we did, we would be miserable walking around all day. Our next stop was the mall. Since we all have different interests, we split up. The boys headed to look at games and sporting stores, while us girls went to look at clothes. We made a plan to meet up for lunch at the food court. We had only been separated for about half an hour when we heard an announcement telling everyone to go home immediately because there was a blizzard headed our way. Some people did not believe this, as it was the middle of summer in Florida. We did not rush, but we gathered our things to leave. A few minutes later, we exited the mall. We did not see the boys anywhere, but we knew the storm was going to get intense quickly, so we needed to hurry back to our resort. Mom figured that Craig knew how to get back to the resort, and keep Lane and himself safe. As we predicted, the storm rapidly began to worsen. Snow was blowing faster than anyone could even imagine. The few trees in town were bending so far over they almost touched the ground. Business owners were letting some people in to stay safe then began boarding up windows and doors. Mom, Leslie and I were holding on to each other as tight as we possibly could trying to make it somewhere safe to hide out from the storm. It soon got to the point that I could not see anything. Not even Mom or Leslie only six inches away from me. The wind was strong and we were dressed for tropical weather, not a snowstorm. We could not hold on any longer and Mom got separated from Leslie and I. When we realized it was just the two of us, we both felt instant fear. What would we do? Would we survive? Are we going to make it back to the resort? What about Craig and Lane? At this point we had no idea where we were but we knew we had to get out of the storm. Leslie and I managed to get in a tiny alleyway between two buildings where the snow could not get to us. It was better here, away from the wind, but of course it was still cold as we were only in shorts and t-shirts. We walked away from the street to get further between the two buildings and found three other people hiding out from the storm as well. They did not talk much but I could tell they were kind hearted. They offered Leslie and I a blanket to help keep us warm. The five of us gathered close to keep each other warm with our body heat under the blanket as well. The next morning we awoke to a small dog climbing on our blankets. The storm had settled. The dog was shivering. Leslie and I decided to go looking for the rest of our family. The dog followed us through the snow, everywhere we went. We decided to give him a name. Loki, we liked the name and the dog seemed to come when we called him by it. I was a little afraid we would get too close with Loki. We would have to go back home, Mom would not want us to bring him back to Kansas with us, but right then I was just focused on finding my family. Leslie and I were walking through the town, trying to think of somewhere they could have been. Luckily the snow was compacted so we could walk on top of it without hardly sinking at all. We had been walking for a while. Loki was still right behind us, as he had been since that morning. Leslie faintly heard a voice shouting from a house down the road. She asked if I heard it. We both turned and looked around. Four houses down from where we were standing I saw Lane. We ran as fast as we could to hug each other. I now could relax a little bit knowing that we were reunited. Lane asked us about the dog and we told him his name is Loki and that he had been following us around and we grew a bond with him. Lane has always loved all animals and him and Loki instantly bonded. We followed Lane into a house where he had been staying overnight. As we entered there stood a woman, a man and their son named Kai. Lane told us all about the night he had, staying up late playing games with Kai. Leslie and I got a nice breakfast while at the house then got ready to go searching. The next journey began. Now that we have all, even Loki, got a nice breakfast and some warmer clothes, we are on our way to find Mom and Craig. It was not too long after searching that we found Craig. We ran to Craig as soon as we realized it was him. He was by himself in an old, closed building. It looked a little scary but it kept him out of the storm. He said he was thankful to be out of the snow and wind but he was pretty hungry. We had brought some extra food with us from Kai’s house that we gave to Craig. Once again after resting for a bit and introducing Craig and Loki we headed out in search for Mom. It was getting later in the day and starting to warm up. Craig had said that he saw a small church the previous night that was helping people and maybe Mom had found her way there. We ventured through town and found the church Craig was talking about. We tried to open the front doors but they were boarded shut. We walked around and found a side door, but this time we knocked first. A middle aged man came to the door and asked if we needed help. We told him that we were looking for our mom and think she might be there. He let us in and showed us where all the people were staying. Along the back wall we spotted Mom. We ran up to her and she was obviously extremely happy to see all of us. Again we introduced Loki. Mom had never been the biggest fan of animals but she also grew a bond with Loki. Together we all headed back to the resort that was only a ten minute walk from the church. We ended the trip early and got ready so we could leave for home the next morning. The time had finally come, I had to convince Mom to let us take Loki home. I made a slideshow of reasons he would benefit our family. My hopes were that Mom would realize how much I wanted Loki to come with us. I convinced Craig, Leslie and Lane to also help me present it to mom. After a lot of talking and debating we finally got her on our side. The next morning we loaded up the car and headed home with Loki. The five of us decided we would spend the next summer at home and just enjoy eachothers company.


RHETORIC James and I never got along. Not even when we were kids. Our mom had been on her own since my pops passed, and she wasn't much for parenting after his death. So James and I were left to our devices. When we interacted it always led to fighting. Most times verbally, oft times physically. For that reason, and for subconsciously resenting both my absentee parents, I moved out at 16. I started by couch surfing, waiting tables. I stuck with it until I could get my own place, and began tending bar. Eventually I ended up bartending at a decently high end restaurant, making more than decent cash. Especially for a low maintenance bachelor. All was well... until Covid. Like many in the service industry, my hand was forced financially to make hard choices. Until things opened up, I had to give up my apartment, and move back home. Where I had rarely even visited in the 10 years since I left. Back home with a now, full on pill popping mother, and my failure to launch, 30 year old brother. Before I moved back I thought of a joke I could play on James. Since he was a full on Q worshiping tin foiler, I thought I could do something to spice up our ridiculous conspiracy arguments. I thought I'd make my own version of Q. I started by furiously "researching" all the conspiracy minded content, I could get my hands on. This would be the ammo I would use against all the James' of the world. I started innocently enough with all the famous stuff. Fake moon landing, Bigfoot, Jimmy Hoffa... all the classics. Eventually, I fell down a rabbit hole. JFK, led me to Bay of Pigs, & mafia rumors. Then to Northwoods, MKUltra, & project Paperclip. Once I had my content reservoir filled up with Clinton, Eppstein, Royals, & Masons, I needed to get my logistics down. I needed a hook, and a memorable name, and a delivery method. After days of thinking I found a Wiki about ancient God's, and the Name jumped out at me. Dolus. That was it. The God of lies. That would be my screen name. My alter ego. His mission would be another Greek god. Nemisis, god of vengeance. Dolus would claim to be an insider. Someone close to someone powerful. Realistic, but vague. Believable, but hard to challenge with questions. All I had left to do was figure out how to disseminate the info drops to the public. I thought I would start small. A few reddit drops "warning" of leftist, or socialist projects that were upcoming. Then move to claiming I had knowledge of more sinister machinations. Include the right names, and the right vernacular, and eventually like minded idiots would begin to nibble the bait. Where it took a leap, is a different story. I just got lucky. That's it. One of my "prophecies" of socialist plans came true in a big way. I told plans of restricting religious rights and paying sheeple to stay home. It was just part of a ranting drop on Reddit. That week, it was widely reported that state governments were banning gatherings, including Church. Also, the first emergency checks were being put up for vote. I got a lot more eyeballs on my info dumps after that... a LOT more! That's when James started to take notice, and began using bits of Dolus info in his arguments. He also started commenting on my drops. He was hooked. With that stroke of luck, it was time to kick it into the next phase. Can I effect real world scenarios with my imaginary secret info? All too easily, it turned out. I'd drop info about leftist gatherings, (that were public knowledge), that I'd tag with #coven, or #Death Meeting. Like clockwork, my followers would show up and protest the meetings. My avatar as Dolos was just a black version of the famous Michael Myers mask from Halloween. (Which was just an all white version of Captain Kirk from Star Trek.) At all the gatherings I provoked, the number of those black masks would grow...exponentially. It was surreal, seeing all those black masks on the news. Reading the signs they were swinging, and hearing MY stuff being regurgitated in interviews with local reporters. The Nemisis freight train was picking up steam, quickly. The unexpected side effect of all this, was how it made me feel. I felt powerful. It was like with every passing day, I was forgetting it was all a joke. All based on trolling these idiots with lies I made up, whole cloth. It started to veer off course. Before I knew it, I was buying it myself. These "socialists" targets of mine began to actually seem evil to me. The "white knight" Republicans began to seem heroic. It seemed that I was convincing MYSELF of all this bull shit. It didn't help that besides my now fake arguments with James, I was interacting with an echo chamber. All my posts were met with agreement and an eerie reverence. My followers were treating me like a holy man. Like I was God's emissary on Earth. It was intoxicating. All the power and all the conspiracy stuff hitting me at such a weird, untrusting time in the country's history, was a perfectly volatile combo. Things ratcheted up quickly... and violently. One of my lefty action alerts about abortion doctors meeting local politicians, was taken too far. One of my followers took action and people died. He died as well, but on the message boards he was martyred...and I was praised. I didn't condemn the action, either. I was scared I'd be implicated, so I never mentioned it at all. James even called Dolus a hero. I pretended not to have heard about the incident. Time went by, and more of the violence and death would be at least partially attributed to the Nemesis group. Dolus was on the authorities radar, by then. When a woman in Florida killed her own child in the name of Nemesis, it snapped me back to reality. The woman claimed her child was a crisis actor, in league with the left. She claimed the 18 year old girl, who was a trauma survivor, took money in exchange for her false testimony against a gunman. The mother got the idea for the shooting being a false flag, aiming to take away guns, directly from a Dolus post. Time to drop the trolling post, admiting it was all BS. Time to show James all the evidence I had, of Dolus being me. Time to rub it in their faces how easily duped they all were. I typed out the confession, (not including my real identity), and was about to hit enter. At that moment, the front door was kicked in and I was in custody. From Jail, I talked to James. I told him everything and he was supposed to gather all the evidence of it just being a joke. I needed to show the cops, that I was just a troll, not a vicious political cult leader. That distinction would help with public opinion and hopefully sway the courts into easier punishment. Maybe just probation. James never showed with that evidence. He probably set it on fire. Instead he used it to access all my accounts, and my laptop. He became a new agent of Nemesis, called Cane. He explained how Dolus was just part of a larger splinter group, and he honored Dolus as a true patriot. I was sentenced to life in a Colorado supermax prison. The same one as the Unibomber. James was more careful to avoid the authorities. Last I heard Cane was thought to be dropping his posts from somewhere in the Mediterranean. Somewhere with no extradition treaty, most likely. Nemesis is worldwide now.


Timmy Jenkins was a bright little boy with a fascination for sailboats. On his walls were posters and pictures of various kinds of sailboats that inspired him to someday sail the open sea. His dad would buy him model sets and they would stay up late at night gluing together small pieces and painting them vivid colors. So, Timmy thought he knew a thing or two about building a sailboat. Timmy had some tools his grandpa gave him. Old hand tools that didn’t require electricity like a hammer, some screwdrivers, a saw, even a drill. He collected wood from the construction site in town. He took a bed sheet from his mom’s linen closet. He borrowed screws and nails from his dad’s workshop. He carried all those things to the beach where he would build his boat. He spent every day after school, and Saturday, working on building his sailboat. When Timmy was done building his sailboat, it didn’t look anything like the sailboats in his pictures. It was square, like a raft, had four walls, and a sail. He was proud of his sailboat though because it floated and didn't leak. He just had one more thing to do - name it. All the boats he had ever seen or read about had girl names, usually two. He went with his favorite girl, his mom, Bonnie May. He grabbed a can of black paint and wrote it as clearly as he could on the side. Excited to take it sailing, he rushed home and grabbed some things for his trip: a bottle of water to drink, an apple to eat, and a comic book to read. He slid those items in his backpack and ran back down to the beach. There, he untied his sailboat from the tree, got in, and paddled out into the ocean. Once he was far enough out, he raised his sail and let the wind take over. Timmy was so happy to finally be sailing, and in a sailboat be built. He watched the sail fill with air and could feel the saltwater mist spray him in the face as his sailboat skipped along the gentle waves. He giggled to himself and sat down to eat his apple and read his comic book. Once Timmy was done with his apple, he looked back to the shore, but it was gone. He had sailed too far. He wanted to paddle back but didn’t know which way was back. To make things worse, he felt raindrops on his arms and heard thunder. He looked up and the sky was as black as night. A wall of rain was coming straight for him, and it was bringing thunder and lightning with it. The wind blew so hard it ripped Timmy’s sail and it flapped in the wind. The waves were getting bigger, taking him up and down, up, and down, spinning him around. The rain came down harder and the thunder got louder. He was scared. He curled up in a corner of his sailboat and squeezed his eyes shut, as tightly as he could, praying his little sailboat wouldn't sink. Timmy woke up on a beach, his sailboat broken. He was greeted by what looked someone who was half frog and half man. He was as tall as Timmy and had a white beard. He had big flipper-like hands and flipper-like feet. He wore frayed purple shorts and walked hunched over with a staff. He croaked when he talked. His name was Horatio. He told Timmy he could show him how to get home if he followed him back to his house, so Timmy followed him. They came upon a little hut shaped like a mushroom. It was not a crude hut, but rather homely. It had skinny logs for walls and a curved grass roof. Inside was a stone fireplace with some sort of soup cooking, a bed made of moss, and a little wooden table. Along the back wall was a shelf filled with old-looking books. Horatio invited Timmy to sit down and poured him some soup into a wooden bowl. While Timmy ate, Horatio pulled a book from the shelf and a box from the drawer below. Horatio opened the book and said that to get home he would need a map, a compass, and a sailboat. Horatio tore out a map of Lost Island from the back of the book and showed it to Timmy. He told Timmy that he must first go to the library in Savanna City to get the map. Then he must find the packrats hideout in the Stoney Ridge Mountains and get the compass they stole. After that, he must follow the river to the sea and defeat the Dark Knight in battle so he can use the sailboat. “How am I going to do all that? I am just a boy,” Timmy asked. Horatio opened the box and presented a ring with a jewel in the center that changed colors. “This ring will give you the power to change into any animal you want," Horatio said. The next day, Horatio gave Timmy a satchel of food, a jug of water, and the map. He wished Timmy good luck and pointed him in the right direction. Timmy enjoyed his walk through the jungle. There were many frog-people living in the jungle. They all had homes and families and were busy working as Timmy walked by. He met a red parrot by the name of Jeremy who talked to him while he walked. The jungle ended and the savanna began. To get to the city faster, Timmy turned into a cheetah and Jeremy grabbed on tight. Timmy took off running as fast as a car with Jeremy bouncing up and down on his back as he ran, his beak chattering. He ran through the river where the hippos and crocodiles fought. He ran past the elephant-people, standing upright with their long trunks hanging down, wearing armor, standing guard over their land. He passed the lion-people and the hyena-people as they fought a terrible battle. The savanna was a dangerous place where everyone fought for survival. Timmy was glad to be running so fast that no one could catch him. They came to the great walled City of Savanna with its shining marble walls, beautiful statues, and enormous buildings. The biggest building of all, in the center of the city, was the library. They followed the road and Timmy saw people of all sorts. People like him and people like Horatio. There were people who called themselves land pirates, pirates who have been shipwrecked on Lost Island for hundreds of years and not allowed to leave. There were the cat burglars, skilled thieves who looked like cat-people. There were the city guards, gorilla-men with painted faces, large axes, and armor who patrolled the streets. And every now and again you could spot an angel with their mighty wings and sharp swords amongst many other types of people. There were people selling food, clothes, jewelry, art, songs, and stories along the road. Timmy had never seen such a place. When they reached the library, they asked for the librarian. A man-like owl named Oliver stepped forward. When they told Oliver which map they were looking for, Oliver let out a long, low hoot and said the map was in the Chamber of Relics, that he would take them to it, but they would have to stay close. Oliver grabbed a torch, and they took the stairs down to the Chamber of Relics. It was dark except for Oliver’s torch. They walked until they came to a dead end. Suddenly, the bookshelves moved. Timmy, Jeremy, and Oliver moved forward. Then they stopped, waiting for the bookshelves to move again. Then they turned right. The bookshelves moved again and cut them off. They waited until the bookshelves moved and then they hurried forward and stopped. The shelves moved again, and they turned left. They ran fast and then stopped. They waited a minute, and the shelves moved. Oliver grabbed the map and dusted it off. They turned around and went out the same way they came in. They thanked Oliver and left the library. The sun was setting when they got outside so they had a light dinner, just some bread and water. Timmy turned into an eagle and he and Jeremy perched on top of a statue to get some sleep. Morning came and the sun peeked over the mountain tops. The packrats had a hideout in a cave in those mountains. So, Timmy, as an eagle, and his parrot friend Jeremy, took to the skies and flew to the mountains. They found the packrats hideout up on a ledge where two of the rats were standing guard. Timmy and Jeremy swooped down and carried them away so they wouldn’t tell anyone they were there. Then, Timmy had to think of a way to get in there without being seen. He decided to turn into a tiny ant. He snuck in as Jeremy stood watch. The packrats were dirty rats that needed baths. They had big yellow teeth and carried pins and needles as swords. When Timmy got to the main chamber of their hideout, he saw all their treasure piled up. It was a mountain inside a mountain. All around the treasure were thousands of packrats. Timmy turned into a spider. He crawled along the wall to the top of the ceiling and lowered himself down by a web on top of the compass. He then turned into a cat, surprising the packrats, sending them scurrying. Timmy swatted and scratched at the rats as he took off down the main hall with the compass in his mouth. The rats chased after him, stabbing him with their needles and pins. When he burst through the cave opening, he scared poor Jeremy who flew into the air, shrieking. Timmy jumped off the ledge to get away from the rats and came soaring back up as an eagle where he met Jeremy in the sky and the two of them flew down to the river below. They followed the river until they got to the ocean. There, the Black Knight guarded the dock leading to a sleek looking black and red racing sailboat, like the one on Timmy’s poster above his bed. The knight didn't want anyone to leave the island and would fight anyone who tried. Timmy and Jeremy landed. Timmy turned into a tiger and rushed the Black Knight, jumping on him. The Black Knight wrestled with him, picked him up, and threw him. Timmy charged him again and then turned into a bear, swiping the Knight with his huge claws, knocking him down. He then turned into a gorilla and leapt into the air, landing on the Black Knight, and started pounding on him. The Knight hit Timmy hard and knocked him away. Timmy rolled to a stop. He was tired and hurt. He looked up and the knight was charging him, ready to swing his sword. Timmy turned into a mouse and the Black Knight missed with his sword. The knight went to step on Timmy, but Timmy turned into an elephant, knocking the knight off his feet. With his long trunk, Timmy picked up the Black Knight and threw him in the ocean. Timmy turned back into a boy. He ran to the boat with Jeremy flying alongside him. Timmy looked at the directions on the back of Horatio’s map and put the map and compass where they needed to go. Then, like magic, the sailboat set sail. Timmy and Jeremy sat on the floor of the boat and ate the rest of their bread and drank the rest of their water. When they looked out across the ocean, they could see that the sailboat was taking them into a storm. Rain came down and so did the sails. The water grew rough and tossed the sailboat around. Yet, it kept its course. Thunder banged and lightning flashed. Waves were the size of mountains. Timmy and Jeremy desperately held on as the sailboat pushed through the storm. When they came through on the other side of the storm, Timmy could see land. The sailboat raised its sails and it sailed to the beach where Timmy built his sailboat. Timmy took off the ring and put it in Horatio’s satchel with the map from the book, leaving it with the sailboat to give back to Horatio. He then turned and ran home with Jeremy flying behind him. He burst through the front door, so happy to be home. He rushed into his mother’s arms and begged her forgiveness for being gone for so long, telling her all that had happened. She laughed and kissed his head. “Timmy, you’ve only been gone an hour.”


Charlie’s Well The light coming from above seemed so far way. Charlie sat languid; staring at the circumference of light at the top of the well. Only past the light sat the rest of the world. Large, chunky rocks composed the circular prison. Each varied in shape and size, but cut as much as the next. Blood soaked his hands Dirt marred his cheeks causing them to look pallid. So many times he tried to climb out, only to fall back down each time. Each plummet hurt more than the last. Charlie couldn’t exactly remember how he ended up at the bottom of the well. He just found himself there one day. Surely someone would pass by out of sheer luck and throw him a rope? All the urges within him told him to scream for help, but his voice evaporated every time. One last time. One last time he would try to escape. Charlie stood up lethargically, wiped the dirt from his blue jeans. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I can do this”, he told himself. Spying some dry dirt on the ground, he took a handful and rubbed the soles of his hands. The dirt permeated through his fingernails. Charlie spent minutes meticulously choosing his path. Finally, with the path chosen two hands firmly grasped two rocks. With his feet, he pushed himself higher. He climbed and climbed, with each thrust forward, his spirt slowly became replete. The small pinpoint of light became a sun. The warmth of the air above raised every hair. A smile broke as he became closer. Not much longer now. One hand grasped the next rock. As he heaved the other hand forward, a sharp, acute pain stung his hand. Hanging on by the one hand, he saw the long cut trickling blood. No vestige of hope remained. Only a few feet separated the boy and the outside world. He went numb, after all the distance traveled nothing would stop the inevitable descent. Then, a hand appeared out of the light. The hand grabbed the bloody hand and pulled Charlie forward. The luminous transition blinded his sight. Eyes squinted to defend the assaulting light. As the light became tolerable, Charlie looked around. There he stood, surrounded by grass in a field. The sky shined blue and the gentle breeze felt pleasant upon the skin. In front of Charlie stood the very person he needed most. A smile broke free. At that moment Charlie knew all would be well.


This was written for u/Say_Im_Ugly's Discord Secret Santa story exchange. I took it upon myself to include Say in the fun, and secretly asked for constraints and had constraints provided for them. This is the story I wrote for u/Say_Im_Ugly using the following constraints: Words: smitten, gingerbread, Jack Frost, glisten, sprocket. Include: something broken, a robin. Genre: Please pick the genre you enjoy writing in the most. The white glow of the TV light danced across the interior of the cabin, as the last remnants of the B Horror movie Jack Frost splashed across the screen. The fading aroma of a Christmas ham intermingled with the alluring smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies and filled every corner of the small lodge in the Montana wilderness. Nelly and Brett had planned this getaway for months now. Years spent with their increasingly chaotic families left them yearning to find some peace for the holidays. They had both been smitten with the area surrounding Yellowstone after their honeymoon a few years prior, and decided this year to get away from the hustle and bustle of their daily lives in the DC metro area by returning to bring in the new year. The couple, still well in the prime of their lives, had spent the first night, Christmas Eve, in each other’s arms, finally able to relax and melt away the stress, sublimating into the deadened silence of the snow-covered countryside. Occasionally, the stillness would be shattered by the snapping of branches under the weight of snow and various calls from local wildlife. Which is why it was so concerning when Nelly and Brett heard footsteps squeaking through the snow. “Shh. What is that?” Nelly said, recoiling from Brett’s embrace. His pulse quickened as he tuned his ears into the broken silence. The unmistakable crunch of snow compacting underfoot. The steps were weighty, slow and intentional in their pattern. “Footsteps. Probably a Park Ranger. Stay here.” Brett said. He swung his legs out of the bed and into his discarded Christmas-themed pajama pants. His feet, now freezing after being uncovered, quickly found the inside of his sherpa-lined slippers. Not bothering to find a shirt, the fleece lining of his leather jacket produced an unfamiliar feeling on his skin. As he stepped into the large common area of the cabin, reaching from the kitchen through the living area, he toggled the light-switches and illuminated the interior, hoping to disarm the source of the footsteps, acknowledging their presence. Brett stepped out into the blistering cold and called out. “Hello? Is that a Ranger out here?” Brett asked. His query was met with the same silence found before the footsteps which concerned him. Whoever it was had stopped moving and they did not reply to him. “Is that a Park Ranger out here?” Brett called again. Once again he was met with utter silence. A breeze rose through the air, kicking up fresh powder from the ground and out of tree branches above. The cold wind painfully stung his face. “I’m going back inside. If you’re not a Park Ranger, please, just go away. We don’t have cash or valuables, we’re just here to relax.” Brett said, bargaining with an unknown visitor with unknown intentions. He did as he said and returned to the warm embrace of the inside of the cabin with its glowing fire and seasonal aromatics, where his wife waited. He had no sooner reached the hall with the light switches when the electricity cut off entirely. The eerie silence somehow became quieter, their ears now adjusting to the lack of ambient sound. “Brett?” Nelly called out. “I’m here.” Brett said. “What’s going on?” “The power went out.” Brett said, crossing the threshold into the bedroom. “Must be a downed line somewhere.” he added, full of false optimism. “Who was outside?” Nelly asked. “No one. Must have been branches falling or something.” Brett said, attempting to quell any fear Nelly had. “I know I heard footsteps. They must have been!” Nelly contended. “There’s no mistaking the sound of footsteps on snow.” She said, her voice quivering with uncertainty. Almost as if on cue, the silence was once again shattered by a violent explosion of splintered wood as a large man burst through the same door Brett had closed moments earlier. The cacophony of sounds that filled the cabin in the remote countryside over the next few minutes were a chaotic mess of screams, grunts, and the whine from the driving sprocket of a chainsaw. In the morning, the snow surrounding the cabin glistened in the crisp December air. On a low hanging branch, a robin called out, sending miniature plumes of breath out into the stillness that once again blanketed the wilderness. A trail of bloody footprints disappeared into the thick woods behind the cabin.


This is an idea I had this morning, I haven't read though it yet but it is the set up of a much longer short story than I've written before. **Castle Stalker** The bell tolled 12, thus marking the second day of my solitary confinement in uncles secluded estate, I haven’t a clue why I didn’t invite anyone to come here to keep me company, this place was boring as hell. Although disturbingly breath-taking, the 14th century castle sat upon its own island surrounded by a prison of deep blue water. The castle was originally gifted to King James to be used as a hunting lodge and I am unsure of how it came into my uncle’s possession. He’d moved here after his divorce and retirement citing escaping the hustle and bustle of Edenborough as his reason for departing. The whole family thought he’d gone mad, who in their right mind would want to live in such a desolate place, no neighbours, no shops, it was to some degree my idea of hell. But this was the place I had to call home for now at least, while sorting through his estate, you see last month the haggard old bastard had finally kicked the bucket, and not in the nicest of ways. No one was really surprised considering the letters aunt Gem received from him got more and more incoherent before eventually ceasing. Left it a month or two before deciding to make a visit, when Aunt Gem finally turned up she’d found him butt naked, face down in the bath tub, we’d come to the conclusion that he’d had enough and decided to drown himself. What a way to go out! I couldn’t think of anything worse, imagine, your last moments as your lungs filled with air, fighting the urge to come up and breath, to wonder what dark thoughts must be going through a man’s mind to commit such an action. Me and Uncle Josh never really had much of a relationship after he moved here, he never really had much of a relationship with anyone after, life ruined him. I remember back when I was a kid, we’d always visit him in Edenborough and have the best time. He was so kind, the entertainer of the family, you know, one of those people that seems to derive the pleasure of life from making other people laugh. He was full of tremendous one liners. I remember this one he always used to say about a penguin. Anyway, it went like this a penguin takes his car to the shop and the mechanic says it'll take about an hour for him to check it. While he waits, the penguin goes to an ice cream shop and orders a big sundae to pass the time. The penguin isn't the neatest eater, and he ends up covered in melted ice cream. When he returns to the shop, the mechanic takes one look at him and says, "Looks like you blew a seal." "No," the penguin insists, "it's just ice cream." To me it was as if he’d died a long time ago, I hadn’t even seen him in the last five years, even when I did, he was a shell of the man he was before, it’s strange when that happens, like the former personality had died only to be replaced by a strange withered old man, he’d aged terribly since the move both mentally and physically. I believe it’s because we’re supposed to be social beings, not those isolated from the tribe, with no interaction, that sort of thing could really change a man.


CARO: 'Dad? Dad, hi, it's me.' DAD: 'Oh, hi there, I'll just get your mum, she's in the loft.' CARO: 'No, wait! It's you I wanted to talk to.' DAD: 'Oh, right then. I'm fine, how are you?' CARO: 'Yeah. Alright. Um, except, I got... Mum's in the loft, you say?' DAD: 'Yep, she's putting the Christmas decorations away. I was just weatherproofing the gate, just popped in to get some more newspapers, don't want to again the paving, you see, so if you want to call back later when your mum's downstairs...’ CARO: 'No, Dad, it's you I wanted to talk to. Okay, I've been working my way up to it all day, and I've got a break between meetings, so I wanted to ask you something. Did you have a girlfriend before mum? ' DAD: 'Me? Well. I suppose. There was a girl from my college, we went for drinks a few times, but nothing came of it. Why would you ask that? CARO: 'Well, okay from the beginning, I did one of those genetic find your ancestry tests, y'know, since you were adopted. Mum never knew her dad, you can get tests done off the Internet it tells you things like if you've got a vitamin deficiency or a propensity to get diabetes and things too, someone gave me a voucher as a present, so I did it, y'know for a bit of fun...’ DAD: 'Oh. Like a doctor's test? Are you poorly? CARO: 'No, I'm fine. It's like a doctor's test only it also tells you if there's anyone else in the database who you're related to and I didn't think there would be since you and mum don't have any brothers or sisters, but then there was a match.' DAD: 'Oh, right, so you've found a relative? So it must be one of mine, like a brother or sister or cousin or something? I tried to track down my birth mother, but it came to naught.’ CARO: 'I remember.' DAD: 'So who have you found? Did they give you a name? Is there a picture? Oh well done, love. After all these years, I could have some family still living!’ CARO: 'Well, yes, this person wanted to be notified if they got a match, and well, this is why I wanted to talk to you, not mum.' DAD: 'Well, let me call your mother, and she can pick up the other line, that way you can tell us both at once, this is news indeed!’ CARO: 'No, dad. This is for your ears only, just hold your horses.’ DAD: 'Oh, have they passed away? ‘ CARO: No. They got in touch with me, we've been emailing, and they added me on Facebook.’ 'Dad, I've got an older brother.' DAD: 'No, you haven't.’ CARO: I think I have. He's called Toby. He looks like me, everyone thinks so. I haven't met him, he's living in New Zealand.’ DAD: 'Well, that's what you get for buying things off the Internet, love. I'm sorry, but I think you've got carried away. I mean, a brother in New Zealand... bit far-fetched, isn't it? CARO: 'How long were you and mum together for before you had me? DAD: 'You should know this. It was two years we were married after the first year then you came along a year later. CARO: 'He's 5 years older than me.’ DAD: 'If you're saying what I think you're saying then... Well. I don't know what.' 'Goodness me, Caroline, we don't hear from you for months then you ring me up telling me I've got a girl into trouble!' CARO: 'Shh, Mum'll hear you.' 'Well, she so she should. I'll be telling her about all of this right away.' CARO: 'I'm not saying you did it deliberately dad, but the woman you dated before mum, do you know what happened to her?' DAD: 'Well, we both got jobs at the same company and decided it'd be unprofessional for us to date. I think she found me a bit dull, to be honest, she wanted to go out partying all the time, and well, you know me, I like to potter about by myself. We were in different departments then I got offered the transfer to Bristol where I met your mam. CARO: 'Right. So, and don't have a fit, but it's possible, possible, she could have been pregnant when you left?’ DAD: 'Caroline, this is not a discussion I want to have.’ CARO: 'Well, I didn't want to have it either dad, but I have a brother that I want to meet someday, and I'd better figure out what to tell him about you. Refusing to acknowledge that he exists isn't a good start. At least admit there's a possibility...’ DAD: 'There isn't! ' CARO: 'How do you know, though?' DAD: '...your mother.’ CARO: 'What? I didn't hear that.' DAD: 'I said, your mother was my first.' CARO: Really? Cos you were what, twenty-something when you met mum, come on, dad. DAD: 'Yes. Really. I was shy, and things were different in those days. I didn't want to cause exactly the kind of trouble that you're accusing me of.’ CARO: ‘Okay, okay.’ DAD: 'Can we put this whole silly business to bed? It's probably some kind of scammer, you need to be careful!' CARO: 'Dad, I was the one who told you about Phishing emails, remember? I work in cybersecurity, don't you think I'd know an Internet scam if I saw one, I'm literally the expert.' DAD: 'Well, you can't be the expert in everything.' CARO: ‘I'm the expert at this.’ DAD: 'Lynn! Your daughter's on the line, here, you talk to her. I'm going to paint the fence.' CARO: 'Wax on, wax off, Daniel-san.' DAD: 'Oh, yes, I see what you did there. Yes, well, goodbye for now Caroline, I'm putting your mother on.' MUM: 'Hello you!' CARO: 'Hey, mum.' MUM: 'What did you say to dad, he's got a face like a slapped bum?' CARO: 'Is he still there?' MUM: 'No, he's out again painting the fence while there's a gap in the rain. I've just put the Christmas decorations away for another year. We still put your star on top.' CARO: 'Oh, mum! That's trash I made when I was like five! Please throw that away! MUM: 'No, it's special because you made it. It's been on that tree for thirty years, and it'll be there for thirty more, God willing.' CARO: 'Alright, I'll tell you what I was saying to dad because he'll tell you, but he'll get all the details wrong because it involves the Internet and he's a troglodyte. 'Ha, oh, alright, then. But don't expect me to understand any of this Internet talk either.' CARO: 'No, it's not work stuff. Alright, basically I did one of these genetic tests that tells you if you're at risk of any diseases and stuff, and it also matches you to any genetic matches that have done the same test, like anyone you're related to, and obviously, I didn't think there'd would be any matches or maybe we might find some of dad's family or whatever, but well, there was a match, okay this sounds weird, and now talking to dad I think it was probably a mistake, but it matched me to someone, and I thought he might be a brother, I've seen pictures of him, and I thought we looked alike, but I've probably just imagined it. We've both got red hair, but millions of people do, right?' 'So anyway that's what dad was cross about.' 'Mum?' 'Hello? Mum? Can you hear me? Oh, I think my signal's gone if you can hear me hang up and I'll call back.' MUM: 'I'm here.' CARO: 'Oh, oh okay, I can hear you now. The signal must have cut out for a second.’ 'Anyway, are all the Christmas decorations back in the loft now? When are you gonna throw away that tatty old plastic tree, I bet it's just bare wire now, isn't it?' MUM: 'His name was Toby. CARO: 'Yeah. Wait. Did I tell you that? Wait. How do you know his name? Mum! Mum, what's going on? MUM: 'My parents sent me to a convent to have him. The nuns were awful to us, I at least got to meet his new parents, they lived in London, they had good jobs, and they were nice people. They said I could see him if I wanted, but everyone said I should put it behind me and I was young and scared and I did. 'Have you seen him? Is he alright?' CARO: 'Well, that's the thing we were emailing each other. MUM: 'You've talked to him? What's he like?' CARO: 'He was nice, friendly. We look alike. Curious about me as much as I was about him. He knew he was adopted, that's why he did the test, to see if any relatives came up, I just did it cos I got a voucher as a birthday present from my friend.’ 'Are you going to tell dad? I take it he doesn't know.' MUM: 'Yes, I suppose I should now. I was waiting for the right time, but it never seemed to be the right time, and I thought maybe he'd rather not know, and you can't take it back once you've said it out loud, and then I thought it'd gone on too long, the secret and that just makes it bigger, y'know. He'll say why didn't you tell me 40 years ago, and I can only say that it's because I'm a liar. He might never look at me the same. We know everything about each other, except for Toby.' 'Are you angry with me?' CARO: 'No. I don't think so. It's just a lot to take in.’ DAD: 'Are you two still on the phone!' MUM: 'Yes, just a minute! Caro, I need to go talk to your dad. Can you call me back tomorrow?' CARO: 'Sure. Oh before you go, I've got some pictures of him on Facebook, shall I email them over to you? ' MUM: 'Oh, you can send me his pictures? Yes. I want to see them. I have to go now. I'll make dinner for your dad and... Actually no, I think I'll have a glass of port. There's a bottle left from New year's eve. When do you think you'll be able to send the pictures?' CARO: 'Give me 10 minutes.’ MUM: 'Oh, that soon? Okay, I'll take the iPad upstairs and... Okay, love.’ CARO: 'It's okay, mum, you don't have to tell dad anything if you don't want to. Just have a drink and settle yourself, okay? Call you tomorrow.’ MUM: 'Yes.’


Muted honks of car horns, brakes applied at the last moment, mild shouting, and a dead grey light act as my alarm clock these days. As I struggle to get out of bed, I feel blindly for my rose-colored glasses on the nightstand only to remember, once again, that I haven’t taken them off from the day before. These are my rose-colored glasses that I can’t take off. As I unplug my phone and begin my dreary morning routine, I look through my rose-colored glasses, and am reminded of a time when even a good night’s rest was an unfortunate barrier separating one bright day from the next. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. A time when I still believed in Santa Claus, and the boot print in ash on the hearth--a boot print whose similarity to your own went unnoticed year after year--was proof that I could still believe in the incredible. Forgoing a morning shower, I dress quickly and rush out the door making it to the bus stop just in time to be shuttled off to work on yet another Monday. As I stare blankly at the dingy floor of the bus through my rose-colored glasses, I remember when even waiting for the bus was an adventure. Gameboys would be passed around, and parents would turn a blind eye while bus drivers played along as we lined up various lunch items on the road to be smashed by the bus tire as it came to a stop. *I wish I would have called in sick today*, I think to myself as images of us catching falling maple leaves in the middle of a windy October day fill the lenses of my rose-colored glasses. You distracted me from my cold by promising me a Dove Bar for every leaf I could pluck out of the air that day. I caught 7, and we both laughed as you tried to explain why 7 Dove Bars was, “Really, if you think about it, way too many.” During my lunch break, I pull up 1215 Pilchuck Drive on Google Maps, only to be painfully reminded of the clear-cutting they did after we moved that erased so many of my favorite places as a kid. In those woods, we braved 50ft tree-gobbling monsters to build forts and make maps of a jungle that seemed to never end. Why does it all look so small now reflected in my rose-colored glasses? The rest of the workday passes like a slow moving train that seems to take its time when all you want to do is cross the tracks... Staring out the bus window through my rose-colored glasses, I see minivans packed full of moms and kids on their way to an array of different practices. Gymnastics, kung fu, baseball, or soccer, I’d do all 4 at once, just to sit in the passenger seat next to you again. Almost a decade of car rides that seemed so mundane, so why do I wish had paid more attention? With the satisfying *thunk* of my apartment door closing behind me, I begin my evening ritual of peeling off my shell of adulthood. I hang my keys on the hook by the door, sling my bag over the back of a kitchen chair, and loosen the tie that has spent all day assuring me that breathing comfortably is, in the end, completely overrated. Settling into my chair for a few brief hours reprieve before the necessity of mentally accepting the reality of Tuesday, I reach up to make my nightly attempt at taking off my glasses. As I grip the frames and begin to pull, I encounter a resistance made familiar by years of other failed attempts to remove the rose-colored glasses that I can’t take off. There I sit, alone in my chair as I try to pass the evening immersed in a book, doing my best to ignore the images I see through my rose-colored glasses.


My finger hovered over the download button. I hesitated for a moment. This app, it promises to reveal one secret about any person who's name you type in. Simple as that. Type their name, get one secret Just clickbait, Right? It couldn't be real. No, no way. I swallowed down the fear that I hadn't even realised was there, then, closing my eyes tightly, I pressed download. Loading. Loading. Loading. The app opened. It buffered for a second, before revealing a black, Google-style, search bar across the top of the screen. Just a gimmick, thats all this app couldn't possibly know the things it claimed to, could it. Could it...? I shook my head, I was just being dumb. Forcing these stupid thoughts out of my head, I pressed the search bar. I pressed my lips together, wondering who's name to type in first. I decided on my little brother. My thumbs skimmed over the letters, Yeah, I type fast, I use my phone a lot, don't judge. The screen turned white. Words appeared on the screen again, Finding records on ***Joshua Jones, please stand by......*** they read. ***Extracting one secret about Joshua Jones.....*** another pause, the a small, spinning, loading wheel. Then, finally the product of my wait. ***When Joshua Jones was ten years old, he spilt Ribena on his mother's white carpet, and blamed it on his sister.*** I smiled. Josh had always gotten me into trouble when we were kids. Then I froze. My blood ran cold. How could it possibly know that? Perhaps this App wasn't as much of a joke as it seemed. Intrigued, I typed the name of my best friend. A pause. The same loading screen as before. **Extracting one secret about Nicole Geralds...** The loading wheel again. ***Nicole Geralds is romantically attracted to Terry Smith*** How could an app on a smartphone know this much about people. More specifically, the truth about the people that I cared about most. I was the only one in the whole world who knew about Nicole's little crush on Terry from football. Most people at this point would be scared, terrified even. Most people would delete the app, or, I don't know.... What I did know was that I wasn't most people. I found myself drawn in by this strange promise of power. Curious now, I typed in the name of my boyfriend. The result soon appeared on the screen ***Adam Roper is planning on dumping his girlfriend, Rose Jones, by text in 3 seconds.*** My brows narrowed in confusion. The number changed to 2. He wasn't, Adam wasn't gonna dump me. The 2 was replaced with a 1. This had to be some dumb joke. My phone vibrated in my hands. A text had just come through. From Adam. *I'm sorry, Rose, things just aren't working out for us.* For the second time in just a few minutes, my blood seemed to freeze. No way. Okay, I was beginning to get curious. What would happen if I typed in my own name. Rose Jones, I typed slowly. My fingers hovered over the search button. There was nothing about myself that I didn't know though. Right..? Perhaps against my better judgment, I pressed search. ***Extracting one secret about Rose Jones....*** The screen flashed white. Then, ***Rose Jones is currently admitted at Fetchfield mental hospital. She suffers from delusions. Rose, please wake up.*** The world flashed before me. I felt the cold air on my skin. I was lying down. On a uncomfortable bed in a room with white-washed walls. A lady with long fake nails, a spray tan and cheap blonde hair leant over me. Mascara stained tears ran down her cheeks. "Oh, Rose, you're awake" She said in a high falsetto "Mumsy missed her lovely daughter" I didn't know this woman, I'd never seen her before in my life, in fact. "Wh-what about the app" I croaked out "Mumsy doesn't know what you're talking about sweetie-cakes" "What about Adam. What about Josh and Nicole?" "Oh pumpkin-pie, there never was an Adam, or whoever else. You're In here for delusions, don't you remember that?" I shook my head "Don't you remember me, your own mother!" The woman's voice reached a pitch that I would've thought impossible. "I brought you in here when you first started having these delusions, but now, I've decided to bring you back home. I employed a carer to take great care of you honey" Did this mean that my whole life was lie? That my friends and my family were never real. It had certainly seemed real. Now I thought about, something about this place, this woman, seemed familiar, like something I'd only seen in my dreams, or perhaps my nightmares.... 'Mumsy', the woman with the spray tan and fake nails ginned to herself. Another successful transfer. It pained her to go to such lengths, but some things must just be done. No-one could be allowed to discover the secrets. No-one could be allowed to discover **The App.


“No, no, dad! Just keep it straight up! Now you point it to the target like you’re holding a pistol. Just hold it straight up, yeah, like that. Now look at the screen, look at the screen. Ok. Can you see the target? Make sure it’s somewhere in the middle of the screen. Now press the power and volume buttons together. On the right-hand side. The two top buttons. Right. Are you pressing them both?” The old man sighed, despair in his eyes. “I’ll never get the hang of this,” he said. “That’s because you moved your phone, don’t move it. Here.” His son impatiently took the phone from his hand. “Here you go, target in the middle, press buttons, piece of cake!” The targeted plastic cup shot from the table like an arrow and landed on the windowsill. “Now you,” the son said, and placed the cup back on the table. * The old man had been a wizard all his life. And quite successful too. With his cloak, staff, wand, and spells he had saved the world from peril more than once. Then one day, a parcel was delivered to his door. He even had to sign for it. When he unwrapped the sturdy carboard box, it contained a shiny cell phone together with a brightly coloured folder with screaming letters: HERE IT IS, YOUR OWN BRANDNEW PHONE! There was also a letter, and he recognized the letterhead of UWA , the United Wizard Association. Ah, now he remembered, the last UWA meeting, almost a year ago. There, the Board announced that every member of UWA would receive a cell phone. He thought they had just forgotten about it. The letter read: As announced during the meeting of 14 th March, we are sending you your personal cell phone. To make your phone operable for wizardly work, you must download the special WIZZ-app from the app-store. This app will be upgraded regularly, so that eventually the device will function as a full replacement of staffs, wands, and spells. Private use of the phone is permitted if this will not interfere with work. Having no clue what it all meant, he placed the box with the phone on the table. * “Cool! Wow, cool!” His son rushed to the table without even taking his coat off. He carefully took the phone from the box as if it were a breakable artifact. “This year’s model, wow!” “It’s for work,” the old man said despondently. “It needs an app with double p so I have to find an app-store somewhere.” * Unlike most wizards, Geodefrith had not remained single. His wife Mildred ( Millie as everyone called her) passed a few years earlier, and he loved their son Fernando as the living memory of her. And for himself, of course, although he could be a pain sometimes; but a friendly pain. * With the aid of Fernando, the new phone was in working order within an hour. Geodefrith’s head was still spinning and buzzing with terms like SIM-codes, fingerprint-recognition, downloads, upgrades, data . Before he knew it the app (with double p ) had been installed, and Fernando told him his profile was complete. “You see, dad, it’s hardly brain surgery. Now all you’ve left to do is enter your spells.” Geodefrith started. “My spells? But those are secret, private. They’re all in here!” he said, tapping his forehead. “But they’re required if you want the app to work,” Fernando answered, “just sit down and enter your spells, I won’t look, ok?” It had taken Geodefrith years and years to memorize all the spells he needed. He sat down on the couch with the phone on his lap. His fingers slowly and unstably typed in the first spell. After a minute, he threw the phone aside and sighed: “This is not working. Forget it!” Fernando looked up from his own cell phone, laughing. “What’s not working, dad? How many spells have you put in?” Geodefrith raised his arms in despair. “None! I keep getting invalid input, make sure the spelling is correct; remember, some spells may be case sensitive. ” “I don’t know how you spell all those spells exactly. They’re in my head. When I need them, I just cast them.” Fernando said: “But there must be a way to know the spelling of your spells, right?” “Of course, they’re all in the Secret Book,” Geodefrith exclaimed, “haven’t needed it for years. It’s going to take me weeks to enter them all.” To make a long story short, defying all rules of secrecy and privacy, it took Fernando a little over forty-five minutes to copy all Geodefrith’s spells from the Secret Book into the phone. In awe, Geodefrith watched his son’s fingers race over the shiny screen. * “Now you,” Fernando said. Geodefrith held the phone as straight as possible, and his shaking fingers fumbled to find the two buttons on the right. When he pressed them, the plastic cup shot against the living room window. “I got it!” he cheered, “incredible! I still can’t get over it that the phone knows exactly what spell to use!” Fernando smiled. “That’s why they call it a smart phone, dad.” * Spells came in variations, of different magnitudes. There were spells that were hardly more than a simple magical trick, such as moving objects, or making things disappear. Or, a bit harder, spells that could move a wizard from one place to another in a flash, sometimes miles away. Then there were those to fend off danger, such as a sudden thunderstorm, a flood, or an avalanche. Some spells could be used to protect against de spells of others, especially members of the Dark Order of Wizards ( DOW ), a group with a questionable reputation that split off from the UWA centuries ago. Regularly, there were encounters between members of both groups, sometimes leading to serious clashes. Never, however, could these spells be used to kill or destroy. Even in the fiercest fights between opponents, spells were to be used only to defend, to annoy or fatigue the other. Both sides adhered to this unwritten rule; wizards died, naturally, but never by the hand of another wizard. The deepest spells did have the power to destroy or kill. In rare cases, where imminent peril was extremely profound and potentially lethal, a wizard might use such a special spell. From the beginnings of wizardry, any wizard qualified as such, had every spell at his disposal. But during the leadership of Frankfrith the Glorious, who acted as chairman of the UWA for more than six centuries, the Rule of Limitations was introduced. Seemingly randomly, wizards might lose their “licence to kill”, or any other spell, for that matter. * By a small margin, Frankfrith had been elected as the 19 th Chairman of the United Wizard Association. But he soon managed to extend his power by placing his most avid supporters on key positions in the organization. He appointed Glowfrith as treasurer, and Pensefrith as Scribe, a kind of personal secretary. Ilbreth, nicknamed the weasel became Deputy Scribe, taking care of “daily matters”. Frankfrith’s rule was characterized by modernization , which, as most wizards agreed, was in fact Pensefrith’s idea. The old communication system between the board of UWA and individual wizards, by using heralds to deliver messages in person, was abandoned and replaced by periodical letters signed by Frankfrith. * Nine decades after Frankfrith was elected, at the annual UWA meeting, he was surprisingly flanked by two large figures, who were introduced as Ironfrith the Unwavering and Bullfrith the Wielder, both members of DOW . Frankfrith had hired them as private security agents, to protect him from an “increasing number of serious threats by certain groups.” It was from that time on that the periodical letters from the Board were signed Frankfrith the Great, and later even Frankfrith the Glorious . * A few weeks after Geodefrith had received his new phone, there was the annual UWA meeting. All members gathered in a large hall. Beverages were served before the meeting, and Geodefrith sensed a lot of tension, mostly having to do with the new phones. After Frankfrith had opened the meeting and hammered away the approval of last year’s minutes, Donfrith the meak , the gentlest person that ever roamed the earth, raised his hand. “Ah, a question,” Frankfrith said, “please, go!” Donfrith’s crackling voice sounded through the hall. “About these phones, Frankfrith, are they really necessary?” Frankfrith looked down with a kind smile. “I am afraid they are, Donfrith. There’s just no other way.” Then Donfrith said: “But what was wrong with staffs and wands and spells? They always worked well, didn’t they?” “Yeah, what’s wrong with staffs?” someone shouted from the other end of the hall. The figure of Bosefrith had risen, and he spoke with a booming voice: “It’s all about control! He uses those phones to track us everywhere!” Soon almost everybody was screaming and shouting, until all voices joined together in a chant: No phones, no phones, no phones! Then there was a tremendous bang that stopped the turmoil immediately. Bullfrith’s fist had landed on the table with such great force that it almost split in two. His huge shadow loomed over the hall. Geodefrith was sure he saw flames and smoke coming from Bullfrith’s maw when his thundering voice echoed: “Enough!!” * This is to inform you that the introduction of cell phones has been a great success. The latest upgrade of the WIZZ-app makes the next step possible. The Board is proud to announce that from May 1 st , all staffs and wands will be deactivated, and spoken spells will be rendered ineffective. Representatives of the Board will be collecting your staffs and wands. During the coming months you will receive notification of the exact date of collection. Your collaboration is appreciated. On behalf of the Board Frankfrith the Glorious Geodefrith put the letter aside. Although, with the help and support of Fernando, he had mastered most of the features of his phone, he still liked to wander about occasionally with staff and wand, leaving his phone at home. Casting spells the old-fashioned way felt great! That was all going to end soon. “A good thing,” Fernando said. * It had been an easy day. The world seemed to be in a pleasant Spring mood. Geodefrith’s horse was trotting home and the old wizard smiled broadly. He was looking forward to a quiet dinner, a fine wine, and a good read. He sighed, complacently, until he spotted a silhouette on top of a hill. Oh, bother, he thought, there goes a quiet evening! He had immediately recognized Wellfrith the Gloomy, who came galloping down, waving and shouting: “Heya there, Geodefrith the Silly, old stoop!” True enough, of all the dark wizards one could encounter, Wellfrith was probably one of the least bothersome, but he was such a show-off. “Good eve, Wellfrith,” Geodefrith said, “wishing you a good journey!” “Not so fast,” Wellfrith replied, “let’s not forget our good manners, you ancient creap!” “Oh, come on, Wellfrith, let’s forget it,” Geodefrith pleaded, “I just want to go home.” Wellfrith looked at him with scorn. “You lamentable fossil! You know what the code says: we have to exchange some spells.” Geodefrith sighed. “Ah, well, you can have it your way!” He took his phone out of his pocket, waiting for Wellfrith to produce a wand or staff but, much to his surprise, Wellfrith held up a phone as well. “Take this!” the dark wizard yelled. Wellfrith pushed his phone in Geodefrith’s direction, but nothing happened. Then Geodefrith aimed his phone, target in the middle , nervously pressing the buttons on the side. Wellfrith was thrown off his balance and landed on one knee. “Well, I never!” he grunted as he got up. “You treacherous old fart!” He aimed his phone at Geodefrith, but suddenly raised his hand. “Hold on,” he called, “gotta take this!” He put his phone at his ear and started talking, turning his back on Geodefrith. After a minute or two, Geodefrith heard Wellfrith say: “Ok, let’s talk again later, I’m in the middle of something now!” But before they could exchange any further spells, another call came in. After the third, and twenty minutes later, Geodefrith sighed and said: “Come on, Wellfrith, may I go home now?” Wellfrith looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. “Ah, why not,” he said, “stupid phones!” Geodefrith smiled and said: “I couldn’t agree more.” Wellfrith replied: “I’d give my right arm for a good old-fashioned sturdy staff!” * “It’s all Ironfrith’s doing,” Wellfrith said as the two old wizards joined part of their journey. “Ever since he’s associated himself with your Frankfrith.” Geodefrith answered: “It’s Pensefrith, really. He’s behind it all. It ought to be stopped!” Wellwrith stroked his beard. “You know, there might be a way,” he said. “We could call for a popular vote. I know a big majority of DOW members want staffs and wands back. All we have to do is to send a message to all DOW and UWA group members; it's the only thing these phones are good for!” And so, it happened. Text messages were sent to all the group members. * There was a rather heavy knock on the door. Geodefrith got up to open and was surprised to see Bullfrith on his doorstep. “You are requested to come,” he growled. “Sorry, got other plans,” Geodefrith answered lightheartedly. “You are requested to come!” Bullfrith repeated, a bit louder. “And I still have other plans!” Geodefrith replied. With his big paw, Bullfrith grabbed him by the shoulder and forcefully pulled him away from the door. “Hey, take it easy,” Geodefrith squeaked. Bullfrith dragged him along for some fifty yards, where Frankfrith sat waiting in a four-wheeled cart. Geodefrith was pushed into it. “What’s going on, Frankfrith,” he said while getting up. The cart rattled along the cobblestone path. Frankfrith looked at him affably. “Now that was not a very smart thing to do, was it?” he said. “What wasn’t?” Geodefrith asked, annoyed, brushing the dust from his cloak. “Well, my dear Geodefrith, if you are to commit high treason, it’s not smart to do it all out in the open.” “What do you mean, high treason, what are you talking about?” Frankfrith calmly stroked his beard. “You must understand, my dear old friend, that the Board cannot overlook individual, disgruntled wizards who undermine board decisions taken unanimously.” “Not undermining; I was just asking the others to vote for or against using cell phones, that’s all.” Frankfrith answered: “We’ll see,” and kept quiet the rest of the way. * Geodefrith was escorted into a room where Pensefrith, Glowfrith, Ironfrith and Ilbreth were seated at elevated tables. On the floor below, a single chair was standing. Bullfrith pushed Geodefrith in the chair, and he and Frankfrith joined the others. Frankfrith mildly looked down on him, and said: “It is the Board’s decision, Geodefrith, that it would be in your best interest to, erm, enjoy a few weeks, months of rest. All expenses paid, of course!” Geodefrith looked up angrily. “So you’re sending me away!” “Believe me, we only want what’s best for you,” Frankfrith answered. * The resort was comfortable, but he never felt at home. There were no other wizards, as far as he could see. Most of the guests were older people, shuffling about with or without a walker. He spent most of his time in his room. He had his cell phone, but after the Limitation Rule had been applied, only very basic spells were available to him. Sometimes, some of the guests had visitors: families, children, grandchildren. No visitors ever came for Geodefrith; it was decided that would be too stressful for him. He sent messages to Fernando, complaining about his situation, but only received encouraging text messages back, wishing him speedy recovery. He thought he was being censored. * Once a week, a nurse came by, a sweet young lady, who would sit with him, asking about his wellbeing. She gained his trust and he felt comfortable enough to pour out his heart to her. How he was kept there against his will and wished to go home to his son. She promised to find out more, and she became an ally in his quest for rehabilitation. He looked forward to her visits, the both of them plotting to find a way to reveal the truth. Then one day, she was not there, but instead two male nurses grabbed him and put a needle in his arm. * When he woke up, two older men, dressed in white, stood at his bed. The first one said cheerfully: “Welcome, sir! Welcome to the world!” The other man added: “You have been asleep for quite a while, but the operation went very well!” With shiny eyes, Geodefrith said: “Thank you, doctors!” The first doctor said: “You will be going home to the resort in about two weeks. You’ll be happy there!” “There are absolutely no signs of rejection,” the other added. “The chip is nicely embedded.” Geodefrith smiled at them. “Thank you, doctors,” he said again. * Geodefrith sat comfortably in a chair in the recreation room of the resort. There was the liveliness of children running about. A lady came in holding hands with a little boy who held a toy car in his other hand. “There’s the gentleman,” she said, “there’s the gentleman who can move things. Ask him if he can do it.” Geodefrith smiled at the boy. “Just put your toy on the table,” he said. Then he took out his phone, aimed it at the toy, and simultaneously pressed two buttons on the side. The toy moved. The boy screeched and jumped up and down. “One more time!” he screamed, excited. Geodefrith laughed. He was a happy man.


When I get home, Kayla is sitting on the couch biting her fingernails and staring out into space. I pause at the doorway and watch her. I have only seen her bite her nails twice since I’ve known her. Once when her mother died. The second time was when her father died. I walk into the living room and she turns her head towards me. “Hi,” I say. “Hey,” she responds. She’s looking at me with narrowed eyes. I decide to give her time to tell me what she wants to say and go to the kitchen to start putting the groceries I've bought in the fridge. “You want to go to a party tonight?” she asks. I pause with a carton of eggs in my hand and turn toward her. We were supposed to stay in tonight and watch a movie. It was her idea. She’d had a really rough couple of weeks at work and said all she wanted was to relax. Now, she’s looking at the ground. “Whose party?” I ask. “Melissa,” she says. “Who’s Melissa?” I ask. “A friend,” she says, now looking at the wall behind me. In the ten years we’ve been together, Kayla has never mentioned a Melissa. “How’d you meet?” I ask. “Do you want to go or not?” Kayla snaps. She immediately blushes, “Sorry, I...it’s just...another bad day.” “Oh,” I say. Kayla still isn’t looking at me. She’s biting her nails again. I want to question her and ask her what she’s upset about, but something tells me to just let it go. To just give her what she wants and ask questions later. “Sure,” I say, “Let’s go.” She looks at me and smiles a bit. “Ok,” she says, “...thanks.” An hour later, we’re in an uber, on our way to some party in the Hollywood Hills. I still don’t know who Melissa is and Kayla was very insistent that I ‘dress sexy.’ My clothing usually consists of jeans and t-shirts. That’s it. So now, I’m wearing a strapless dress I haven’t worn in over a decade and heels I’m probably going to take off when we get to this party. I’ve tried engaging Kayla in conversation, but she won’t give me much. Just stares out the window. I watch her, trying to read her mind. She catches me staring and smiles. I smile back and reach for her hand, but she pulls away and looks back at the window. I can feel a tightness forming in the pit of my stomach. I want to ask her why we’re going to this party. I want to ask her why she won’t look at me, why she was biting her nails, why she won’t tell me anything at all. Instead, I turn toward my own window and try to accept the silence. After thirty minutes of winding roads and feeling like we’re making our way to the top of Los Angeles, we pull up in front of a large metal gate. Kayla and I get out of the car. I stumble in my ridiculous heels. I watch Kayla go to the call box at the side of the gate and press a button. We hear a phone ring. “Hello?” someone answers. In the background I can hear laughter and loud music. “Hi, this is Kayla?” Kayla says, her voice high and squeaky. I look at her with bewilderment on my face. Her voice is unusually pitchy. She avoids my eyes. “Who?” the voice asks. “Kayla?” she repeats, her tone a question, as if she doesn’t know her own name. She is fidgeting with her dress and her hair and her earrings. She is a constant flutter, and I don’t recognize her. We can hear muttering in the background. The voice on the box is passing along Kayla’s name. She continues to fidget, her gaze going from the call box to the gate to the sky. Everywhere but me. “Kayla?” comes a different voice from the box. This voice is deep and sultry and undeniably sexy. Kayla turns beet red and says, “Melissa?” “Kayla! Oh, come in, come in,” says Melissa. The gate opens and we come upon another windy path made of cobblestones with roses and posies lining the side. The house at the end of the path is a mansion made to look like a cottage. Vines are growing along the side, and there are wide windows where we can see the party goers dancing and drinking. I keep stumbling in my heels and Kayla keeps glancing at me and sighing in exasperation. The tightness in my stomach is spreading to my chest, to my shoulders. “Did you bring extra shoes?” Kayla asks the ground. “No,” I say, “I figured I could just take them off at some point.” She stops and looks at me. She looks as if I just told her that we should barbecue some puppies. “What?” I ask. “Take them off?” she says, “We’re not at some hick party, you know. If you can’t tell, this is a nice place. This is a real party. So why don’t you try walking like a normal person. Ok?” She glares at me for another moment and then keeps walking. I stare at her. I want to scream at her. I want to grab her by her shoulders and shake her until her head pops off. I want to attack this body snatcher and ask her what she’s done with Kayla. Instead, I follow behind, clenching my feet and trying not to trip on the hellish cobblestones. We get to the giant, red, front door, and it opens before we can knock. Standing in the doorway is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Tall, curvy, luscious brown hair, sparkling hazel eyes. And she is looking at Kayla like she wants to swallow her whole. And Kayla is glowing, the redness in her cheeks spreading to her neck, to her exposed shoulders. “Hi Melissa,” Kayla whispers. I watch as Melissa embraces Kayla. I watch as Melissa kisses Kayla’s cheek. “It’s been so long,” Melissa says against Kayla’s neck. I can feel my hands ball themselves into fists. I can feel the right side of my head pulsing, pounding. I clear my throat to announce my presence and they both look at me as if I’m a fly that needs to be swatted. “Hello,” Melissa says, “I’m Melissa. And you are?” I start to speak, to introduce myself but Kayla cuts me off. “This is Ingrid,” she says, “A friend.” I stare at her. Friend? Melissa shakes my hand, but my gaze stays on Kayla. “Come in,” Melissa says, “Please come in.” She takes Kayla’s hand and pulls her in. Kayla doesn’t look at me. She only looks at Melissa. It’s as if I’m not there. I want to leave. I know I should leave. I know I don’t deserve to be treated this way. I hesitate at the doorway. I start to back out, following my good instincts. But then Kayla turns. She sees my face. She says something to Melissa and then hurries back to me. “What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes wide. “I...I’m thinking I should just go,” I say. I want to say more. I want to ask her why she’s acting like this. I want to ask her who Melissa is. But I stay quiet, my eyes searching her face for answers instead. “Don’t go,” she croaks, her hand gripping my arm, “Please? Just stay a little longer.” Her grip on my arm is so tight and maybe it’s because I’ve never seen her this way, maybe it’s because of the strangeness of it all, maybe at the end of it, it’s my morbid curiosity. “Ok,” I say. She sighs in relief. We walk down a long hallway and enter a large living room. People who look like movie stars fill the space. They are drinking, dancing, kissing in corners. The music is loud, and I have to fight the urge to cover my ears. Melissa offers us martinis and I shake my head. “Are you sure?” Melissa asks me, “They’re absolutely delicious.” “No, thanks,” I yell, “Just a beer for me.” Kayla scoffs at me as if I’m so low class and says that she’ll have a martini. As Melissa goes to get our drinks, I lean over to Kayla and say, “A martini? Really?” She says nothing. She pretends she can’t hear me, even though I know she can. She hates martinis. Or so she’s told me. Melissa returns with the beverages. “How long has it been?” Melissa asks Kayla. “14 years,” Kayla says. “Wow,” Melissa says, “Well, it’s so nice to see you.” They look deeply into each other’s eyes. “How did you two meet?” I ask. Kayla snaps her eyes my way, and I can almost feel the fire shooting out of them. “College,” Melissa says shortly, “How did you two meet?” she asks with a snide smile. “Oh,” Kayla says quickly, “We met at a mutual friend’s birthday party. So, what have you been doing with yourself? And is this your house? It’s gorgeous!” Melissa catches us up on all her activities for the past 14 years. It’s clear she doesn’t mind monopolizing the conversation. She’s a world traveler, food connoisseur, social media influencer, and clearly independently wealthy. Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game starts to play and it’s like everything slows down. I watch Melissa take Kayla’s hands and pull her into the middle of the floor. I watch Kayla let herself be led, not throwing a single glance my way. I watch as they move together, arms wrapped around each other and again I wonder what the hell I’m doing here. Someone bumps into me, and I spill beer all over the front of my dress. I decide it’s a sign that I should finally leave. I go back to the hallway and decide to look for a bathroom before I go. I walk further into the house and spot one on my right. There’s a woman in there crying over the sink. I can’t decide if I should ask her if she’s ok or turn around and pretend like I haven’t seen her. She sees me in the mirror before I can make a decision. “Oh, shit,” she says, wiping away her tears, “Sorry.” “It’s ok,” I tell her, “Please. Take your time.” She smiles at me and mumbles, “Thanks.” She grabs some toilet paper and starts to clean her eye make-up. “Everything, ok?” I ask. She laughs, “You caught me crying in a bathroom. What do you think?” “Right,” I say, “Sorry.” “Relationship drama,” she says. I nod sympathetically. “How do you know Melissa?” she asks. “I don’t,” I say, “My girlfriend does. How do you know Melissa?” “I’m her girlfriend,” she says with a smirk, “Well, more like her flavor of the week. Melissa doesn’t have girlfriends. And right now, she seems to be quite taken up with her ex.” “Her ex?” I ask. “Kayla,” she says, “The one that got away, apparently.” “The one that got away,” I repeat. My body suddenly feels heavy. My feet are screaming. My head is pounding. “Yea,” she says, “They had this on and off thing throughout college. Melissa cheated on her a bunch of times until Kayla finally said screw it and stopped going back. Until now, anyway.” “And Melissa has told you all this?” I ask. “Yea,” she says, “She talks about Kayla all the time.” My throat is dry and I’m finding it hard to swallow. The woman stares at me and understanding comes over her face. “Oh,” she says, “...I’m so sorry.” I shake my head but no words come out. What is there to say? I turn away from her and start to walk back down the hallway. “Didn’t you need to use the restroom?” I hear her ask. I don’t respond. I just keep walking. I go back to the living room. Melissa is dancing with someone else. Another woman who looks like she’s at least a decade younger. Kayla isn’t in sight. “There you are." I turn. “I’ve been looking for you,” Kayla says, “Where’d you go?” “Someone spilled beer on me,” I say. “Oh,” she says, “Well, did you want to go?” I stare at her. “I’m kinda over this party,” she says, “The music is way too loud.” I watch her look behind me toward the living room. I know she’s watching Melissa dance with that young woman. “Well,” she says, finally looking at me, “Do you want to go?” The woman from the bathroom is walking toward us. She sees me and smiles. I smile back automatically. Politely. Kayla follows my gaze and narrows her eyes. “Who’s that?” she asks, her tone tight and sharp and accusatory. The tightness in my body expands, it widens, it overwhelms. My hands start to shake. Kayla must notice the change in me because she quickly says, “Let’s just go, ok? Let’s just go home. Please?” Her eyes are wide and pleading and she’s gripping my arms and I want to ask her a million questions, I want to tell her that the only reason she’s standing with me is because Melissa saw that she could still manipulate her and then dumped her for a younger model. I want to say that in the ten years we’ve been together, I never thought she’d be so careless with me, so dismissive, so ugly. I want to say that she’s ruined my opinion of her. My trust in her. But instead I just nod. “Ok,” I say, “Let’s go home.” Relief floods her face. She leans in and kisses me. “Thank you,” she says. I don’t respond. I just walk back toward the front door. Once outside, I take off my heels. I hear Kayla laugh behind me. “You never should have worn those things,” she says. “You wanted me to,” I say without looking at her, “You wanted me to ‘dress sexy,’ remember?” Silence. I walk barefoot along the cobblestone path. I get to the end, push open the metal gate and pull out my phone to call the uber. I can feel Kayla standing right behind me. “Ingrid?” she asks. “What?” I say, still not looking at her, my gaze laser-focused on my phone. Silence. “Nothing,” she says quietly.


Damn. Now I really didn't see this happening. Of all the things to happen at this bland school and this is the shit that happens. Wow. I guess I'm getting a bit carried, let me start from the beginning. My school, Jefferson Middle School, is rather boring, nothing really exciting happens here except the occasional girl drama that usally goes like, "Brian likes me! Not you, skany hoe!" And ends in a matter of three days. I'm usually quiet, if you were to call me "popular girl," you would be wrong but calling me a "nerd" wouldn't be right either. I was just sort of there. I had my friends and that's all I needed. That's where this story starts. With my friend, Daniel. Daniel was a pretty intresting boy. All acceralted classes, loved video games and comics, and wasn't bad looking at all. Over the first year of middle school, Daniel and I became pretty close. Hanging out after school and learning about eachother. It was pretty nice. Daniel loved life and he wasn't afraid to show it. If he had something to say, oh would he say it, but he was never disrespectful about it. He was always being a gentlemen. People always said shit about him. "Oh! Did you hear about Daniel? I heard he was sucking cock in the bathroom!" "Daniel the fag!" "Daniel should go burn in fucking hell with all the other fags that enjoy buttsex!" Get the trend here? They kept on saying he was gay, over and over. Through messages on Facebook, notes, or even writing on bathroom walls, which is very cliche. There have been times where I have asked if he was gay and I would get the same answer every time. "Do you think I am?" Over and over, he never changed it. Daniel was really proud and he felt as if he shouldn't state if he were gay or not and I really admire that about him. 8th grade started and I assumed that the gay jokes would have gotten old by now, but they didn't. They actual got worse. More people started calling him a "fag, dick-sucker," and spreading rumors that I don't even wanna remember. I noticed a change in Daniel, he wasn't as outgoing, didn't speak his mind, became less quite, less proud. I tried helping him, I really did but it never worked. He seemed to just become more depressed. Those kids never noticed either, they just attacked him more and more, getting more ruthless with each insult. This drama was lasting way more than three days and I wasn't sure what would happen. Shit even got worsed. That's when I heard the intercom come on one day during class. "Students, I am sad to announce that our student, Daniel Rigsbee, has died yesterday." They didn't tell us how he died, but we all knew. He killed himself. The voice of the principal announcing his death was so fucking emotionless, it made it seem as if Daniel was some character in a movie that died. Everyone was silent. I was filled with anger. Those ruthless bastards did this. They didn't know when to stop. The minute the bell rang, I sprinted to his house asking if it was true was they said today. His father simply nodded and beckoned me in. He said that there was a note left in his room directed to me and "bitches." I walked to his room, feeling as if I was going to puke. I found the note, all directed in rainbows, colors, and smiley faces. It made me sick. I opened the note with nervoness and read. "Dear Juno and the son of bitches at school. Let me make this clear. I am not fucking gay. I am as straight as the pole your mom dances on. I should not have to tell people this, it's my life and you shouldn't be butting in. Pun intended. You caused this and I hope you feel great. You did it! You've killed me! I'm not gonna say that this wasn't your guys' fault because fuck that. It totally was. I hope you live with that burden that you killed me for your whole life. Juno, I hope you live a great life and don't cry over me, you didn't cause this. You are amazing and don't let people do what they did to me to you. I would punch their neck. (: Bye, Daniel-Not fucking gay-Rigsbee What the fuck? That wasn't sad at all. This was the Daniel that I knew. He killed himself because he was done of the shit. I don't think he felt sorry or anything. I don't even know. As I turned to leave, I found something else. It was another note reading, "I hope this was exciting enough for you, Juno. I am a coward. I wasn't gonna deal with this anymore. They didn't win, remerber that. I won. They get to deal with my death. -Daniel" Fucking. Daniel.