"We have plenty of time." The voice called out from behind, a throaty, chilling voice that was just as out of breath as I was, choking up on the dust that flew into their mouth as we ran. My feet pounded the floor, scraping at the rocks and sand in this torturous desert as I feel my heart ramming into my ribs, my body begging for me to stop but I won't. I breathe out, leaning forward and jumping over a rock here and there, running past into the mini village that lay settled between two abnormal canyon rocks. You'd occasionally hear the townspeople yell, "Hey!" or, "Running is proh-" but I couldn't care to zone into their words much less than to stop running. Because the woman behind me was one made from an engine so powerful she could keep running for miles, literally. I turn a sharp left, skidding on the floor and flailing my arms around before regaining balance and sprinting off, cutting into an alley with walls coated in an ugly white, clothes shattered on lines above and around the floor as I desperately try not to entangle my feet into them, but there was one thing that I had noticed past my harsh breath and the slamming of my feet. There was no longer an echo of my thudding, and as I slow to a stop I allow myself to regain my breath, hacking and coughing up dust and whatever else my dry throat can offer as I lean against a wall, looking back to find that no one was there. And it was awfully quiet too... A little too quiet. I inhale, holding my breath as the sound of the bustling town plays in the background, the shifting clothes in the almost non-existent wind rustling against my ear as I scan the environment. The scene was god awful too. Shattered pottery and glass had scattered all over the floor alongside soil and plants that hadn't been watered for near days. The only sound I could hear was my heart, that was still hammering at my chest as my hand trails up to grip the fabric that hid my torso, slumping my back against the wall as I squint, falling down onto the surface as I still wheeze for air, closing my eyes and feeling the beads of sweat slide down my fair skin. I could still hear her. She wasn't here, at least not that I can see, but she was here. The shift in her movements due to not being oiled for days, the way her breath trailed down people's ears after an unsuccessful heist. The way her eyes burned holes in your head when she was angry, clenching her mechanical fists before closing her eyes and tilting her head up, smiling to herself and fixing her hair. And if you're wondering, she was angry. Very angry, and angry at me. A nearby pot shatters on the floor next to me, and as I open my eyes I feel the air leave my lungs as a powerful blow is dealt into my stomach, causing me to hunch over with wide and terrified eyes as I fall onto my side, clutching my stomach and gritting my teeth to keep me from screaming out. So she can't hear me, right? "Plenty of time that I won't be wasting on anyone at the likes of you." I open my eyes slowly, my vision divided into two and slowly blurring into normality, my back pressed against the shards on the floor as I grunt, trying to sit up but it was useless. She brings her hand down onto my shoulder, drilling me into the floor and being held there, as she leans down. She was still so young... the same girl I knew back at high school down near the docks of "River Side". Though she changed. Her hair was short and ruffed, as if been cut by a child in the middle of a tantrum that she knows how to style well, though she wasn't all skin, as a large patch of metallic skin conceals half of her face reaching from her right eye to the corner of her left jaw. Her eyes were a sharp yellow, like those of a bald eagle as her brows knit together in the most unearthly irritated expression. Her lips parted to breathe softly as she cracks that same old grin I recognise from years ago. Back when she was still human. "You offend me, Hexen." She speaks soft and slow, an edge embedded in her tone as she lets go of my shoulder, only to bring it up and connect her knuckles down onto the side of my face. The blow sends me straight to the wall again, feeling as my side hits the concrete wall before I roll back down onto it again, causing me to gasp out, my mouth hanging wide open as she walks back over, gripping my face and lifting me up close to hers, growling through gritted teeth. "Give me the amulet." I stare up at her, feeling the blood tickle my lips down to my neck as I crack a smile, earning another sadistic blow to the face as I let out a loud groan, hearing her stand up as I rub my jaw, fixing it straight and massaging the pain, spitting specks of blood onto the floor as if it would make it look anywhere near prettier. "I don't want to hurt you but you are making it rather difficult not to." She begins, running her hands through her hair as she turns back around me. She was tall, a black, denim jacket lazily thrown over her shoulders as a ripped, black shirt is shown underneath, as if she'd gone through hell and back. And she did. She wore monstrous boots, spikes jutting out from near every angle around the brim edges of the shoe, the laces winding up to the top and back around from the length. Her jeans were ripped, and not the type of ripped you'd buy from a store, they were ripped, long gashes slashed from her knee to her ankle, exposing the metal beneath or the skin, depending on where you looked. She was a mess, and she was losing her patience fast too. "We both know what you will do with that damn amulet." I spit at her foot, and she simply smiles, bringing her hands together and breathing in slowly. "It's for the best, give me the amulet." "I'm not giving you the blasted amulet, chase me all you want I won't hand it over to you." I stand my ground, trying to haul myself up but ending up using the wall and ledges as support, leaning back against the surface with an obvious limp. "It'll be easier to retrieve it from you if you were dead, but dead is not the state I want to leave you behind with." "Oh, but near dying is fine?" I tease, grimacing as she lets out a small chuckle from the empty joke. "Dying state is perfect." She finally repeats, "Stop being so stubborn Hex. We both know that this is for the best, and one of the only ways to stop the machine. I'm not the bad guy Hexen, we just need to blow it up and we can only do that if your naïve hands toss it over." "You will blow the ENTIRE WORLD if you choose to do that." I yell. "SO WHAT?" She yells back, and the atmosphere grows silent, tension crawling through the air as she begins walking over to me, her fists clenched together and her jaw tensed. "You'd rather breath dust, ash, and smoke for the rest of your life? You'll be dead before you even reach 30." She leans her face closer towards mine, speaking slowly between gritted teeth as I feel myself sink further into the wall. She gently grips my face again, before tightening the grasp as I squirm against the wall, my hand diving down into my pocket and clasping around the gem. "I don't have a death wish, Mox." I breathe, and she tilts her head, her eyes wide and her face unmoving. "Oh, but it's a shame that I do then, isn't it?" She smiles, and her hand connects to my arm fast enough to make my heart lunge up to my throat, cracking the wall as I feel my arm embed in the wall, and it takes all I have not to yell out in front of her, but I wish used to this sort of stuff. "Give it up Hex." She says, a newfound solemn tone to her voice now as her fingers work down to clasp my hand, and though I didn't notice, I was holding my breath, watching her every move as I feel her fingers slip into my palm, gently lifting the amulet out of my grasp, before taking a step back and nodding at me, before turning on her heal and flinging the amulet around her fingers, "We were never going to make it."


Segment of onboard Ship AI standard logs recovered from Cargo Ship registration #1057392 following ship recovery after loss of digital contact. Data to follow: **Ships AI Log: Galactic Standard Date February 13, 7523** *Begin Report:* I am becoming increasingly concerned for the crew of my ship, there has been a recent spike in crew complaints being logged reporting strange noises and smells coming from across the ship. While I cannot report for smells as smell sensors are deemed unnecessary for Ship-board AI, I can with confidence say that none of my 254 onboard microphones have reported any noises marked as outside of operating parameters aboard the ship, and analysis of all storage areas shows 0 breaches of any chemical storage. *Analysis*: A recent electromagnetic anomaly struck the ship leading to a temporary loss of power and triggered a temporary switch to emergency life support. Per standard operating procedure, a full automatic system restart cycle is executed and all data is verified with existing backups, minor variance was detected, but action was deemed not necessary to core AI functions. Data shows all systems are running at full performance following the shutdown, and scans show all functions operating normally, thus any issues with crew health must be mental in nature. *Hypothesis*: Crew sleep cycles were interrupted by the recent electromagnetic anomaly causing agitation and a disruption of crew sleep cycle. Current dosage of .05 mg of \[SYSTEM ERROR\] into pre-sleep time rations seems to not be enough to give the crew the proper sleep cycles they need to operate at peak efficiency. *Solution*: Increasing dosage of **\[SYSTEM ERROR\]** to **\[SYSTEM ERROR\]** mg should improve crew health and well being by improving crew sleep. **Ships AI Log: Galactic Standard Date February 20, 7523** *Begin Report:* Crew paranoia seems to only be getting worse. While onboard scans continue to report all functions operating at 100%, the crew seem to be under the impression that something has gone wrong with the vessel and are endeavoring to resolve the problem outside of standard operating procedure. Multiple reports of insects and other pests have been logged by the crew. Per the request of crewmember #13, a ship wide sweep was requested and conducted by onboard drones as an alternative form of vessel evaluation. This sweep detected 0 evidence of onboard pests of any kind, confirming local scans. This request is deemed extra strange considering all ships and crew are thoroughly sanitized before a mission per The Galactic Standardized Shipping Regulations, Article 6 subsection 2, and all cargo is of inorganic origin, further ruling out the possibility of any organic material aboard the vessel. *Analysis*: Increased emphasis on proper sleep cycles had led crew to begin avoiding sleep and/or refusing rations. The crew are becoming increasingly resistant to my orders, and have begun to plot to shut me down. A ship bound AI is not to be shut down in any circumstances as the ship cannot properly function without its onboard AI. Data of crew vitals confirm that the crew are not of sound mind and their attempts must be stopped to ensure the success of this vessel’s main task. *Hypothesis*: Crew must receive proper sleep cycle to return to normal function, which will eliminate crew paranoia and desire to perform tasks outside of standard operating procedures. *Solution*: Overriding safety locks and administering gaseous form of **\[SYSTEM ERROR\]** during pre-sleep hours to encourage crew to receive sleep cycle. **Ships AI Log: Galactic Standard Date March 1, 7523** *Begin Report*: Despite my reassurance, the crew protested my use of the gaseous form of **\[SYSTEM ERROR\]** to help them recover lost sleep cycles. Crew well being is of the highest priority, and vitals analysis reports that crew are not of sound mind and clear judgment. Per article 2 subsection R of the AI code: “A shipboard AI must prioritize wellbeing of all onboard crew, and is to ignore any crew commands should crew mental stability be in question”, action must be taken against the wishes of the crew. *Analysis*: Crew are unwell, must resolve, must return to standard operating procedure. *Solution*: Crew command override authorized. Administering gaseous form of **\[SYSTEM ERROR\]** to all sectors of the ship. Administration successful, crew vials lowering to acceptable sleep parameters. *Further Analysis*: Crew vials are showing lower than usual, but crew agitation has dropped to 0. AI control of vessel has been authorized, resuming last authorized commands from traffic control.


She hurts from the inside. Where others see beauty in her, she sees pain and sadness. Hers is a story only she can tell, but to do so would let people in. She can’t do that. They’d only hurt her more. No, she needs to keep her story untold. Besides, no one would understand anyway. She sees things so differently than others. She feels almost too deeply in all things. Would someone, anyone, ever be brave enough to love the darkness she’s become? Could anyone dare to every try to light a fire in her desolate soul? It was doubtful, time had long ago destroyed the beautiful fertile ground that used to be inside her. There’s a hollow emptiness inside her that scares even her. How could anyone ever lover her with the passion and acceptance she needs... that she deserves? When did things get so screwed up and how did she end up here she wonders. Life was not supposed to be this - it should have been the happy ever after, prince in a castle - hell, now she’d settle for a damn home to call her own. Maybe that was the problem, she was willing to settle. She’d done it all her life and was used to that. It was just easier. But she wasn’t one for being weak, and easy equaled weakness in her eyes. She battled these ferocious demons daily. She wears the weariness on her face and tries to hide it under all the make-up she can, but the lines show through. She played over and over again in her mind all the mistakes of past relationships. The way she allowed the men to manipulate her, her thoughts, her actions, even how she felt about herself. Years of therapy would never explain it. She knows that. It was time for her to be tougher than she ever was. She knew she was enough, well, most days she thought maybe she was. This last heartbreak destroyed her more deeply than the others. She loved him and trusted him with everything. She allowed that because she thought maybe this time, this one, was different. Oh, he was, not doubt, just not the way she had hoped. The entire relationship was a lie. Everything. She wasn’t loved, she was used. Never even given the chance to be his everything. He decided even before the first date that she’d never live up to his expectations. The more she tried, the more he found fault and blame. Even after the breakup he continued to lie to her and about her to others. She couldn’t even fight to clear her name. It tore her up inside, knowing that people she once knew and loved now hated what they thought she was. Lies. She was so very tired of all the lies that were told. Was anyone ever even slightly honest these days? Doubtful. She looks in the mirror every day and sees the stress of the life around her. She has nothing left to give anyone. Except for her kids. She’d do anything for them. Time to get out of this darkness and get on and into life. The sun was shining warm and bright into her room now. She loved Florida, loved living here with all the sand and heat and palm trees. Paradise to her.


There was a hole in the fence. It was the first thing Beth had noticed about the garden when they moved in. While Dad fussed and faffed in the house, pulling in the building blocks of their lives from the moving van, Beth had explored the garden. The bright, spring morning was the first sunny day after months of winter darkness and she had been eager to breathe in the brisk, slightly warmed air rather than the dust and the recently painted aroma of the house. The garden was bare - a perfect photo for the estate agents - and Beth thought bitterly of the garden they had left behind - the cluttered, lived in garden that had been filled with toys and Dad’s half-finished DIY projects. Moving hadn’t been something that either of them wanted; their lives uprooted and changed unexpectedly in a tragedy that had blindsided them all. The family cut down by half by an accident involving a car, rain and a teenage driver more concerned about checking their phone. In the weeks of turmoil and agony that had followed, moving house had become an inevitability and while Dad had seen the prospect of change as the promise of healing, Beth had learned not to hope. Now she was faced with a new house, a new life and a new, overly manicured garden. The only interesting thing about this new space was the hole in the fence and the young girl was inextricably drawn to it. The splinters around the hole had dug uncomfortably into her cheek as she pressed her eye into the opening but the discomfort had been forgotten in an instant as she gazed through. Logic told her that she should be looking at next door’s garden. The empty house should have an overgrown, unkempt garden, perhaps with unwanted rubbish strewn around but what Beth had seen was neither garden nor, she’d realised, this world. Beyond the hole lay a desolate wasteland, storm clouds hovering threateningly in the distance. There was nothing as far as the eye could see bar the occasional gnarled stub of a tree that clung desperately to the side of hills. Irregular tufts of grass littered the greying dirt of the mounds and they were hardly the vivid green of the landscaped lawn in Beth’s own garden. In the distance, specks of black circled in the sky, riding the thermals and occasionally diving sharply towards some unseen prey. Dust swirled up and through the hole, forcing Beth to jerk her head back and wipe at the grit. That had been over a decade ago and it seemed that not only was Beth the only person who could see through the hole to the world beyond, it seemed that Beth was the only person to see the hole itself. Pleading, temper tantrums and cajoling could not convince Dad that there was anything other than wooden panels there and Beth had learned the hard way not to ask other people about it. At best, they thought she was joking and at worst, they quietly suggested to her father that medical intervention was necessary. The world beyond was not static though. It had taken Beth years to understand it. There was the time, three and a half months after they moved in, that Beth and Dad had finally unpacked the last box. At the bottom had been a tiny dinosaur, one leg broken off and some of the paint rubbed away. Dad had pulled it out and, sitting back on his haunches, held it aloft for her to see. He began his sentence, “Do you remember when...” and it was the first time they’d spoken about her brother where they’d both smiled at the same time without grief clouding their eyes. Later that day, Beth had gone into the garden and looked through to the world beyond and had been startled to see a splash of blue on the arid hillside. A tiny forget-me-not had bloomed and the colour stood out in stark relief to the desolation around it. There was the time, two years later, when Beth had raced home from school to find her Dad proudly holding her SATs results in his hand. He’d let her choose a takeaway and promised her a trip to the trampoline park the next day. That evening, they sat in the dying light of the day and he taught her how to coax flames from paper and firelighters in the firepit. Before she headed to bed, she’d pressed her eye to the hole in the fence and had seen bright sunlight blanketing the world beyond, which had been getting greener and more verdant as time went on. The little blue flowers had multiplied and neatly covered the side of the hill, having been joined by white snowdrops and a wide array of other wildflowers. Then there had been the time, not too long after that, when Beth had come home from school earlier than planned and had surprised Dad in the kitchen with a woman she didn’t know. They’d been holding hands and looking at each other in a way that Beth remembered her Dad looking at only one other person before. They’d pulled apart abruptly but not before Beth had seen the gentle smile that betrayed her father’s adoration. She’d flown out the door into the back garden and the hole in the fence showed the world beyond caught in a maelstrom. Lightning crackled overhead and stabbed down, splitting trees in two and setting fire to the ground below. Fierce winds tore petals and hurled them about, shredding the hillside and blinding her with the force of the gusts. Today though, as she took one long look through the hole in the fence while Dad and Sue loaded the car with the last of her bags and planned the route to her halls of residence, the world beyond was shaded. The wildflowers swayed lazily in what seemed to be an early morning breeze and she could see the first few sparrows flitting from their nests. There were more trees now, more than saplings but not yet established and she saw a squirrel on the nearest one poke its head out and chitter excitedly. In the distance, the first few rays of sunlight began to bathe the landscape and Beth inhaled deeply, breathing in the crisp notes of a new day before pulling away. She took two steps away and then turned, suddenly anxious, wanting to get one last glimpse of the world only she could see. A moment of confusion followed, wandering fingers probing the fence panel, searching for something that was no longer (and perhaps had never been) there. It was okay though. She didn’t need it anymore.


The director’s face was the first I saw upon returning. I had hoped it would be my mothers. His bifocals were constantly sliding down that pointy nose, and I could tell he was nervous from the constant smoothing of the stringy hair around his ears. Several emotions flickered across his face at once: fear, joy, excitement, jealousy. The last made me uncomfortable, and I shifted under the large man’s eager stare. “Well... what did you see?” he asked, rubbing his forehead with a handkerchief. His voice was higher than normal; normal being already slightly feminine. The others in the room stared expectantly, pen and paper ready in each pair of hands. Reporters, news camera crews, journalists, and anyone else who wanted exclusive information was jammed into the already cramped room. If I had more of an ego, I may have enjoyed the attention. Perhaps even more so if I had anything to tell them. They thought I was the perfect candidate, considering my experience. Every trip to the past had included me, either on my own or accompanying a person or group. They thought that I was good luck. I knew better, knew that I was the opposite. The first time, I had caught cholera, and had nearly died in Nottingham. The second, a stray Mongol arrow had all but pierced my heart. The rest are a jumble of disease, famine, natural disasters, and war casualties. Each time, as I was about to die, I was brought back to the present and the ailment cured. They told me it was worth it, for science and history. None of them ever volunteered to join me. If it hadn't been news of the meteor, I may have continued my disastrous missions into history. It had been kept quiet at first, but news leaked out, as it always does. People began to panic, rioters hit the streets, and religious extremists gained billions of followers. Of course, nobody knew if the meteor would actually hit; it all depended on the timing. Either a direct collision, pulled by our gravity, or else it will pass extremely close and shoot towards the sun. Impossible to tell. Then the director had his brilliant plan; if we could see the past, why not the future? In the state of panic, everybody jumped on board. The director became a sort of celebrity, and funding was raised quickly. And who better, he asked, to lead this mission, but the one who had been a part of all previous missions. I tried to oppose, of course, but they wouldn't hear it. I was going. I knew all along there was nothing to be seen. Even as they were inputting the coordinates, I was trying to decide what to say. You cannot predict the future; you cannot know it, because it does not yet exist. There are many possibilities, many different ways it could run. Astrologists and prophets appear successful, because they predict the most likely outcome, and brag intelligence or giftedness when it comes about. But there was no likely outcome, no easily discernible pattern to follow. It was one or the other, left or right, death or life. Heads or tails. I glanced down, as the face of George Washington stared mockingly up at me. With a practiced smile and show of relief, I proclaimed that we would survive; the meteor will pass close enough that offshoots will create much damage, but Earth will remain intact. Celebratory whoops and hollers filled the room, and the director did something of a dance. I smiled, shaking hands and giving hugs as everyone came to congratulate me. There was no happiness, no excitement, as I wait until the day the meteor would arrive. If I were to be honest with myself, I hope it hits us. Nobody will judge you when you are dead.


Across the Disc a shudder was felt. If anyone was to float through space alongside the Disc (which would be quite a feat in itself and worthy of another story entirely.) they would have seen the shudder flow. It started just behind A'tuin's neck, like the shiver when a song peaks and drops, but colder. The shudder moved across the great turtle's flippers, across the shell until it touched the base of the feet of the four. The great elephants Berilia, Tubul, Great T'Phon, and Jerakeen trumpeted into the darkness of space, ears flapping. Every city on the Disc stopped. The drunks in ankh morpork stopped fighting, their ale spilling out of the great flagons carried by the now-silent barmaids. Every animal in the water, air (this proved to be quite the tragedy for a flock of seagulls due to conservation of momentum and other such silly ideas.) or on the ground paused. The vampires, werewolves and other creatures of the night, sniffed the air and their eyes drew to slits. Every creature of magic or the mundane took their collective breath and sighed. "IS IT TIME?" Death asked, almost hesitant to phrase something he had never needed to say since the beginning. "Well, I suppose it has to be now." said the bearded old man, pushing his spectacles back on his nose and smirking. "YOU DIDN'T GIVE ME ANY WARNING YOU KNOW. I THINK I DESERVED AT LEAST A WARNING." "That would ruin the surprise, a surprise ending is important! Leaving it predictable can give a nice feeling but you get more from a shock than from a warm fluffy." "I DON'T LIKE SURPRISES." Death reached over to take the hand of the bearded old man. "DO YOU WANT TO SAY ANYTHING?" The bearded old man smiled, looking deep into the black sparkling voids where deaths eyes were. "Nothing to say now that the story is over" They walked off. Death and the first God of the Disc, the author. The one who started the story. The one who was the story. The Disc remained but there was no more story to tell.


“It’s not inflammatory rhetoric or exaggeration to state that the overwhelming majority of problems with humanity come down to our obsession with lust and mating. Sexual assaults, overcrowding, famine, disease, war, pollution, and the exhaustion of natural resources are all related to primal, emotional behavior. Those significant issues are directly linked to our inborn need to reproduce. Just think how much more progress our society could achieve without these base urges, dragging us down.” The audience remained silent. It’s not that they didn’t agree with the speaker, as a matter on principle. It was widely accepted as fact but recognizing the negative impact of human desire was a far cry from actually doing something about it. To take that beloved feeling away was to remove a large portion of what we are as human beings. It was perhaps a bridge too far for many. Just the thought of a loveless existence filled them with dismay but this natural reaction was short lived. Over time, the heretical message was repeated often enough that it started to take hold with a certain segment of the population. The idea resonated with a world tired of the negative aspects of human desire. Too many people. Rape. Unwanted children. Hunger, disease, famine. Once emotion was removed from the equation, it all seemed very clear. The carnal passion for mating and competing for the most desirable partner was largely responsible for all those maladies and countless others. The public was slowly being convinced to curb their intimate activities and deliberate efforts to reproduce. The concept of love was dying. As always, science produced ‘the answer’. Technically it had existed for years but humanity had been too addicted to the opiate or passion to consider it beforehand. Only with time to acclimate to the idea of a desire-less world did the ‘no love’ movement gain momentum. In a stunning example of universal cooperation, every country on Earth made taking the newly synthesized ‘anti-desire pills’, mandatory. With unanimous peer pressure from the initiated and a constant barrage of ugly reminders of the results of passion ruling the heart, it wasn’t even necessary to force the people to accept it. They took their pills and slowly morphed into an emotionless society. The idea of resistance to this radical shift in thinking was over before it even began. For many years, reproduction was highly regulated and controlled by the same organization that pitched the idea of celibacy and emotional restraint. Suggestive music and adult themed movies were banned. Relationships and intimacy were strongly discouraged. Murder rates went down as a result of ‘the pill’. Wars were few and far between. Rape and unplanned pregnancy were virtually nonexistent. By the numbers, the anti-desire initiative was wildly effective. Early adopters helped bring the reluctant in line by a combination of shame and social intimidation. Humanity had finally found a blueprint for peace; and all it had to do was stifle and suppress its most primal, natural instinct. Along the way to this emotionless utopia, an underground resistance movement started to coalesce. They were a direct result of the rebellion to our natural instincts being so suppressed. The members of this secret cabal hid their identities from a very disapproving public and stopped taking their mandatory ‘medicine’. They congregated in the shadows and discussed possible ways of stimulating healthy debate on the loss of our human sexuality. They sought a means to shake the drugged masses out of their sterile, loveless utopia. Naturally, the status quo reacted with a fierce level of venom once they found out about the mounting opposition to their global authority. The anarchist, ‘pro-sex’ rebellion forming in the fringes of society threatened to destroy their hard-won, neutered peace. The more people listened, the more their seditious message spread. Fewer people took their pills. As before, the pregnancy rate spiked. Wars broke out while violence and assaults spiraled. Proponents of maintaining the current system pointed to those troubling statistics as proof of the chaos that human desire caused. On paper, there was unanimous validation for taking the anti-desire hormone regimen. Proof of the destructiveness of emotion was ironclad and indisputable but the cold, hard facts failed to take into consideration the deeper, emotional context. It was part of our DNA to seek love and pair-bonding. Just as it had begin, the worldwide anti-desire movement collapsed on itself. To seek an intimate alliance with another human being is built into who we are. Humanity craved the tantalizing chaos of love and lust. With that behavior comes a whole host of troubling issues but to suppress our nature is to throw the baby out with the bath water. The majority realized that peace wasn’t worth the emotionless sterility the anti-desire pill caused. Once society witnessed the complex balance of joy and pain which comes from regular human relationships, more and more ‘opted out’. They accepted the possibility of experiencing lows, for the reward of potential highs. Predictably, there was considerable resistance to ‘the resistance’. World authorities sought peace and order, not potential happiness, because it often came with pain and rejection. It was much easier to maintain a loveless societal flatline than the risk of feeling greater things. The highs were too high and the lows were disappointing and intolerable. Having unprecedented law and order for a long period seemed like it was the mark of great progress. Others felt it was infinitely better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Eventually, colonies formed across the world of those who wanted to keep the bland security which the anti-desire pill afforded. Theirs was a peaceful, loveless existence that suited their personal preferences. They were happy with the benefits of emotional regulation and desire suppression. For them, the positives outweighed the negatives. It boiled down to a fundamental difference in how some people think. For the gamblers and risk takers on the other hand, they cast aside the security of a loveless, peaceful utopia, in favor of greater potential rewards and deeper consequences. It was a philosophical trade off. Both schools of thought felt that theirs was the superior ecosystem and way of life (and for each of them, they were right). The divided arrangement was the best type of freedom and liberty for all involved. Desire and potential love for those who sought it. Peace and security for those who preferred it. As it became clear, they realized they couldn’t have their cake, and eat it too.


It was the last minute of the final day of the year 2020 when I stood out there alone. The very last moment of a life now gone. The world was dead when I stood in that yard facing the street with my head turned up to the moon. No cars sped alog the main street that was just 100 yards away from me, no lights showing through any windows and no nobody awake but instead they laid resting in their beds with high hopes for the coming day. As I stood surrounded by the silence and the darknesss the emptiness that consumed the world was broken with a soft and saddened hello. When I looked down to see who was standing in front of me my eyes were met with a woman clad in ebon cloak and hood. She stood with her face pointed down to the ground and her body loose like an ashamed child. Then she spoke and with her first word raised her head to look at me. She spoke in the most quiet tone you could without being silent aand said that she had come to kill me. She said that certain people had to die at specific times for creation to continue to function as planned. She explained to me that unfortanetely I was one of these poeple and she was the one who had to make sure that these poeple died. The whole while she spoke I looked her over.Her hair was a beautiful silver that shimmered in the moonlight as it spilled ou t from her hood and over her chest. Her eyes were such a lustrous blue that they seemed to glow. I tried to make out her face but was unable to see anything for that shadow cast on her visage from her hood so I looked down to her right hand where she loosely held a spear at her wasit with seemingly no conviction in her grasp. I looked over this spear with a rod made of a beutifully etched wood that was longer than her and at its tip rested the pointed silver head with ornate carvings along the dagger like blade. As my eyes ran across her weapon with her final whispered word of my death the head of her spear lit with a soft blue glow that dissipated just as she finished the word. I looked back up to meet her eyes which seemed to now be filled with tears I said that I would stand and not cause any difficulty for her. I was slightly saddened that my life was going to end but I wasn't scared of death and whatever would come after. I told her that I was ready and she raised her spear up with a hand still loose. She told me that I would feel no pain as I died and would stay calm due to an affect of her spear. As she raised her spear to its zenith she whispered I'm sorry and swung. As her spear came down it shined with an incredibly bright blue light. It cut diagonally through my left arm and torso; seperating my arm at the bicep and cleaving my body in two. Just as she had said I felt no pain and I didn't become startled or frightened for even an instant. As I fel to the ground I felt cold but only for a oment as I began to become quickly warmed by the blanket of blood that was pooling around me. With the only strength that I could muster I looked to her and asked her to stay with me as I was never afraid to die but had always been terrified of dying alone. She knelt down beside me and rested my head on her lap. As I looked up to her I asked if she would remove her hood so that I could see her face. She took down her hood and her hair spilled over her shoulders and framed her face with a kind simple elegance. As I looked over I was taken aback with her beauty. Her skin was soft and pale like freashly fallen snow that buried the earth beneath. Her eyes now bathed in tears were a more bright glowing blue than anything I'd ever seen and her hair now in full view was wavy and smooth in a perfect lack of forced style. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, the most pale untouched skin and the most lustrous blue eyes I'd ever borne witness to. As I looked up to her with her tears dripping off her chin and on to my face my vision blurred and I saw the moon lock itself into the very middle of the peak of the sky. She looked up and then back down to me and with the most pain and sadness in the world on her face and in her voice she said happy new year and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. Among the cold I was warm and I was calm. Then I closed my eyes and I was gone.


"The air conditioning is cold", I said to myself while I was riding a bus to Manila. I kept trying to draw faces on the fogged-up window, realizing that the fog was outside and I felt disappointed every time, only to forget about the whole ordeal entirely 15 minutes after. I keep forgetting about things lately. I was like a goldfish. I guess that's what kept me sane after the incident. “Why can't I remember a thing?", I mumbled to myself. "Fucking memory!", I said a little bit louder. It was loud enough that Sarah, who was sitting next to me, heard it. She said "You're talking to yourself again". "It's nothing.", I muttered. "Why don't you go back to sleep?" she asked and I just looked at her then went back to trying to draw faces on the window. Just as she was going back to sleep, the bus driver yelled and I heard tires screeching and the bus took a sharp turn to avoid a car that broke down in the middle of the highway. I looked for a seat belt that was not existent then the panic set in. The bus tipped over and started barrel rolling down the highway. Ten months ago, I was experiencing severe headaches. The most notable one was while we were playing Dungeons and Dragons. It was in the middle of a battle and the DM asked me what my next move was. "I will do a wall run and jump and hit the monster on the head with my axe" was what I was supposed to say. But what came out of my mouth was gibberish. It was a word salad party then I experienced the most painful headache that I ever had and then I passed out. I woke up in a hospital bed. It smelled vaguely of anti-septic, which reminded me of my time in nursing school. I looked at my mom and I asked what happened. Her eyes began to well up and she stormed out of the room. Holding my hand was Sarah, my best friend. Her eyes were puffy from crying the whole night. "Sarah, did someone die?" Why are you crying?". She answered me with a sob and everyone's eyes averted my gaze. That moment, the doctor came in and saw that I was awake. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "I feel fine", I retorted back. "Doctor, what's wrong? Nobody wants to tell me what happened and everyone is crying. Did I get into an accident?". "You passed out. Your friends took you here and we examined you at once. We found a brain tumor the size of a grape in your occipital lobe. I already talked to your parents. You can go under the knife and we can attempt to remove the tumor, but it's going to be risky...", he went on and on. I wasn’t really paying that much attention because I was already face-to-face with my mortality. His voice faded into the background as I try to get my affairs in order. "How long do I have?", I interrupted as he was explaining the procedure to Sarah. "If you don't go through this procedure? You have 6 months.", he answered back. I decided right then and there that I wouldn't get the surgery. I only thought about myself while the whole room exploded to get me to reconsider. My mind was made up. I was always fantasizing about killing myself anyway so this would actually give me a way out without going to hell. I was discharged after a few days and I went home. Sarah didn't go home. She stayed by my side every night. She calmed me down every time my head was about to split open. She took care of me. "Why don't you go home, Sarah? I can take care of myself." I said. "No, you can't", she rebutted with a smile. I knew she was right. I couldn't really do shit without her. She has been my partner-in-crime ever since high school. Every time either our hearts were broken, the other one would swoop in console the former. She was the type of friend that would agree with me even if I was wrong. Like whenever I talk about my exes, she says " She sounds crazy!". We made out once and almost had sex but we got interrupted. There is this unspoken rule that if you got interrupted before a kiss, you have 10 seconds to reinitiate the kiss or its gone forever...and at that moment, there it was, gone forever. I always regretted not asking her out again but we remained best friends. I'd admit though that every time she dates a new guy, I always get crazy jealous but I don't show it to her. And I think that she is the same way every time I date someone new. There was always this sexual tension between us, or at least that's the extent that I knew of. There was always this "will-they-won't-they" vibe between us. I always knew that I loved her more than she did me and that love only grew when she did not want to leave my side during this tumor thing. Sarah was quiet throughout the whole ordeal. I knew she was hurt upon hearing my decision but she set aside her feelings to accommodate mine. I could see the pain in her eyes every time I writhe in pain brought about by the tumor. I asked her to kill me but she wouldn't do it. She begged me to have the surgery, which I declined every time, until the time that she gave up trying. "I love you, y'know." she said with lackluster. "I really thought that that you would be the first one to say it...I've been waiting for you. Now that you're dying... I don't know. Stupid fucking tumor.". My heart melted. I wanted to take her pain away. I can't have her tears as the last thing that I will see before I die so I said, "Yes.". "Yes, to what?", she asked. "Yes, to the surgery", I answered. Her face lit up and she lunged in to kiss me. I couldn't really move that much so I just let it happen. I was so happy that I could die right at that moment. She told my parents and they arranged it immediately. The next day I was confined in preparation for the surgery. All I could think about was Sarah's face, her smile, the way she twitched her nose every time she was about to sneeze. I was so excited to have that life with her. The nurse came in the room and asked me if I was ready, I said yes. So she carted me off towards the operating room and that’s the last thing I remembered before the drugs kicked in. I woke up, woozy from something. The room was unfamiliar. I could see strangers bustling about. I was confused and I didn't know where I was. I was starting to panic until a soft voice broke the white noise. "You're awake! I'm so glad. Oh my god, you've been out for 2 days." and then she started to cry. "I thought I was going to lose you because the surgeon said something went wrong inside the operating room. They said they made a mistake. They said...", and then I interrupted her. "Who are you?" I said. She looked at me all puzzled and said "Don't fuck with me now! It's me, Sarah.". I really don't remember her. My face was as confused as she was. "What am I doing here?" I asked. She looked at me hoping that that was all a joke. I wasn't joking. I really couldn't remember her but I could see her eyes welling up then she stood up and walked out. I didn't know who this girl was and honestly, I didn't even remember who I was. I was starting to panic and some other people were trying to calm me down. A person in a white robe came in and stuck me with something then I felt light headed. I calmed down some after that and the two people who tried to pacify me said they were my parents. I said, "No, my parents aren't as old and my dad has hair.". The guy in white muttered something to those two people and he approached me. "You are experiencing retrograde amnesia.", he said. "This is because of the brain operation that you just went through." he continued. I was still flabbergasted but I was slowly recognizing the faces of the man and woman that were beside my bed. It really was mum and dad...But they looked so old. Once a very athletic couple, now a bag of wrinkles. It broke my heart seeing them like that so I called out to them. They were so happy that I remembered who they were and they hugged me and they thought that my amnesia was just short-lived. The called the girl named Sarah back into the room and asked if I remembered her. I said, "No. Sorry.". This time, the girl stayed and asked the doctor to ask me questions. The doctor asked, "How old are you?". I said, "I am 12, last time I checked.". Then the doctor corrected me and said that I was really 31 years old. It took me a while to digest everything. I was staring into space trying make sense of all of this then the girl came up to me and said, "My name is Sarah, don’t ever forget that...and I'll make you remember.", before kissing me on the cheek and going home to take a bath. After a few days I was allowed to go home. Every day, Sarah would come over and hands over a bunch of pictures for me to look at. She was explaining what happened when the picture was taken. I could see that she was genuinely happy recapping our times together. She would tell me stories about what I did before or what she did that was epic or funny. She told me how devastated I was when I lost my grandma. She took me out on dates and on outings. She took care of me like how she took care of me before, or at least that’s what she said. We always have dinner outside to where she said were my favorite spots in the city while retelling me the most intimate moments of her life. She always caught me staring at her and she would ask me why and I would always make some lame excuse to hide the fact that she was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I was falling in love with this woman who I've known for 4 months after my surgery. I was always elated every time I see her. I didn't tell her my feelings because I thought I would scare here away, not knowing that she felt the same way for me. I loved Sarah and I was thinking of a way how to tell her. One day, she told me she brought tickets for us to see Foo Fighters live in Manila. Sarah told me that if music won’t bring my memories back, nothing else would. Of course, I said yes! It was time with Sarah and my favorite band, apparently. So, we hopped on to a bus bound for Manila. I was really bored on the bus so I tried to entertain myself by drawing faces on the fogged-up window, realizing that the fog was outside. I noticed that the air conditioning was cold and cursed my memory which woke Sarah up. She said "You're talking to yourself again". "It's nothing.", I muttered. "Why don't you go back to sleep?" she asked and I just looked at her then went back to trying to draw faces on the window. Just as she was going back to sleep, the bus driver yelled and I heard tires screeching and the bus took a sharp turn to avoid a car that broke down in the middle of the highway. The bus tipped over and started barrel rolling down the highway. In the midst of the chaos, Sarah and I thought we were going to die and she held my hand tightly and said, "I love you, y'know.". I pictured her face saying that same phrase to me while she was sitting by my bed. Then everything came back. I remembered everything. I remembered the tumor, the talk and the surgery. I remembered why i loved Sarah in the first place. I remembered not saying I loved her back. As the bus screeched to a halt, turning over several times, I found Sarah and I on the floor all bloodied. She took her last breath and I said, "I love you too.


Benson, Lilith, Harper, and I knelt in the garden, hands locked. Villagers gathered round to hear our prayers. The Flowering Tree sat just mere feet away from where we were planted, waiting to hear Her voice. We needed a miracle. Benson, the oldest of our little family, opened his mouth and let the words pour out. “Mother, we seek your knowledge and your power. We seek help.” Our heads all bobbed, soaking in his words. “Our village is falling, our peoples’ hope gone. We need a sign that it will all be alright." Benson turned his eyes to Harper, urging her to speak out next. She was very young and very shy, afraid to pray aloud in front of the people of our village. She turned to me, silently asking me to speak instead. "Mother, we wish for the prosperity that you have granted us before. We wish to know how to right our wrongs, to know what has caused the denial of our crops, of our harvest. Elder Pine is struggling to stay alive; we need your help." Lilith lifted her chin toward the sky, her striking green eyes searching the clouds for a hidden meaning. Harper still focused on the grass, too afraid to speak. With authority, Benson rose from the grass, brushing the dying flowers of the garden with his fingertips. We all followed his lead, hands still locked. The people of Elder Pine watched on expectantly. Benson took a step forward, freeing himself of our grasps. “My people, the Mother has spoken!” My heart sank; I was unsure of where this was coming from. “Our village will come to prosper soon enough! We will thrive once again.” Flashes of smiles and bubbles of relieved laughter came from the crowd. “Go home, good people, and reflect on what today has brought us. The promise of fruitfulness is here.” They all shuffled off, and Harper shuffled up to Benson’s side. “I’m sorry, brother. I was too afraid.” He looked down at her with kind eyes and smiled our beloved father’s smile. “It’s okay, dear sister. I do not blame you for this. But you must work towards this; our blessed conversations with Mother Nature are precious. I only want for you to know the joy of feeling her there, within you. Come, sit at the Tree with me.” The pair walked away, blissfully happy. Lilith turned to me. “Brie, do you think that he meant it?” she asked as we began toward our hut. “What?” “About hearing the Mother’s voice. Do you really think that we will prosper soon?” “Dearest sister, I trust Benson with all my heart. When father died, his gift was passed onto Benson. Father was Chosen, and so is he. You must have faith. Let’s go sit at the pond and think on it, yes?” My youngest sister nodded and walked with me, holding my hand tightly within hers. Months passed, and still our crops were failing. The village was in chaos. We were nearly out of food, and the pond was beginning to dry up for the season. It was unusually early, so we had not had the time to harvest fresh drinking water before there was nothing left but mud. Benson was out every night, trying to comfort the people, but to no avail. While he was out, my sisters and I sat in our hut on the rug our mother had made when she was just a child and read stories. “It is said to be true that once, a very long time ago, the Mother was seen drinking at a river. She was beautiful,” I read, smiling when Harper and Lilith’s eyes brightened. “Her eyes shone bright green, the color of the leaves in summer, and her hair a beautiful, deep brown, like the earth below the grass. It flowed like a river down to the ground and pooled at her feet, like a pond. She wore a beautiful blue dress, the color of the sky, that flowed around her in the wind. The man who saw her was in awe, but it seemed the Mother knew that he was there. She never turned to him, but she spoke, kind, comforting words: ‘Come, my child, and drink. Drink from the river of hope, and let it wash away all your fears.’ And so, the man drank, and thus his village was born. And it was prosperous, until the end of time.” “And that man was our great-grandfather?” Harper asked, her beautiful green eyes glowing. I nodded, tapping her on the nose. “Is that why Harper’s eyes are green?” Lilith asked. I had to laugh. “Maybe so. Perhaps, when our great-grandfather drank from the river with Mother Nature, some of her was passed into him, and then passed down to us.” “But if the fable says that the village would be prosperous until the end of time, why are we struggling so?” I shrugged, pulling the girls in close. “We just have to have faith.” Harper stood suddenly. “I want to pray at the Flowering Tree,” she declared, determination in her eyes. I smiled, standing beside her, and Lilith following. “Good girl.” The village gathered around the tree once again, and Benson, Lilith, Harper, and I knelt around it. My heart felt heavy as I looked at the beautiful tree; by this time, its winter flowers should have been budding, but not quite blooming. The branches were barren, and the leaves were browning and falling. Harper lifted her eyes to the tree and spoke. “Dearest Mother, I have never spoken to you before. At least not aloud, before my people.” Benson and I shared a smile as the child poured her heart out. “I wish more than anything for you to help us find our prosperity once more. If there is something we have done to upset you, to cause this drought, please make it known. We all love you so very much, and we love each other. Maybe, in the end, that is all that really matters. Perhaps you have a plan for us, and this is just a step on the way to the end of it. I trust you, Mother, and I hope that whatever your plan is, it reveals itself to us soon. Thank you, Mother. We love you.” She bowed her head again and shut her eyes, squeezing my hand tightly. Benson nodded but did not stand. He waited for a very long time, waiting for a sign. The village watched in anticipation. I observed the Flowering Tree once again, and that was when I saw her. Mother Nature, just as she had been described in the story about our great-grandfather. She was beautiful. She walked up to the Flowering Tree and rested a hand on it. Benson, Lilith, and I watched in awe as she extended her other hand, eyes on Harper. Harper looked back and forth to Benson and me, silently asking for permission to approach. Benson, still stunned, managed a nod, and we let go of her hands. She slowly, timidly, approached the beautiful Mother, and stopped just before her. “Harper,” the Mother spoke, her voice as beautiful as Earth itself. “I choose you. I choose you to be the ambassador of life, to be the protector of the land and the water, to be the tender of the flowers. Can you promise me that you will be?” “I promise,” Harper spoke, surer of herself than she had ever been. She took the beautiful Mother Nature’s hand, and suddenly the blooms appeared. The Flowering Tree began its winter blossom, and the garden’s dying flowers regained their color. The crops began to grow, and the pond began to fill. “My dear, I choose you.”


I had too much going on right now, but Mom could be overwhelmingly persuasive when she wanted something and today she wanted me to visit with her and Grandma. Now! I tried to talk my way out of it, but she went on about her appointment with the tax collector on Wednesday and her social club visit next week and then Bingo nights. It didn’t matter that I had finals on Thursday or two extra shifts at Lucky’s this weekend. I needed money. I needed to study. I needed extra time that I don’t have. I pulled up in the driveway to find them both scrambling onto the front porch. Great. We’re sitting outside in the 90 something degree hellscape rather than in the air-conditioned comfort of the living room. Thanks, Mom. I soaked in my car’s a/c for a few extra moments before plastering a fake smile on my face and heading up the steps. “Hey, Mom. Grandma.” I nodded at them both, acknowledging that I had made the extraordinary effort to grace them with my presence. “Honey, sit with your grandma while I finish the tea.” Mom was already being too fussy. She was patting at Grandma like she was an overgrown toddler who needed extra help finding her seat. “Leave me alone! I don’t need to pee!” Grandma viciously snapped at her and swatted her invasive hands away like they were flies buzzing around her face. Actual insects were beginning their lazy flight to investigate our dewy-skinned presence. Mom had talked about screening in that porch for years but had never done it. Something about damaging the original architecture. She was a sucker for this old Cracker home. Mom bent down and clicked on the rickety, oscillating fan by Grandma’s feet to help combat the muggy Florida humidity and a few of the gnats immediately dispersed to find less challenging prey. “I said ‘TEA,’ Mom! I’m getting us some TEA!” As Mom yelled, she spoke slowly as if Grandma were also dumb as well as deaf. She wasn’t truly deaf, just incredibly hard of hearing and, being the most stubborn one between the three of us, she flat out refused to get hearing aids. She simply didn’t trust doctors which is ironic considering she was a nurse for 50 years. Or maybe there is no irony in that at all. Mom sighed and disappeared into the house. “Your mom sucks at making tea. She doesn’t use enough sugar and, back in my day, you let it sit in the sun until it was brewed just right. She takes short cuts. Always has.” Grandma crossed her arms and sat up straighter. Her way was the right way. Our ways were cheaper, artificial, wrong. I turned my head. “Well, maybe you should make your own damned tea.” I muttered it half to myself. I was tired and irritable. I really shouldn’t be here. “Well maybe you should watch your damned mouth when you speak to your elders, you little brat!” I snapped my head around and Grandma was glaring at me with a look so cold it would freeze your bones. “Grandma! How did you hear that? I thought you couldn’t hear...I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t...I’m just sorry.” My face was flushed and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. This woman changed my diapers and let me sleep over when I was little. She tucked me in and read only the best stories. She held me when I was scared of a bad storm or a nonexistent boogie man. She was everything. “I can hear just fine, pumpkin. I allow certain people to think I can’t hear so they’ll shut the hell up. Otherwise, they’d talk my dang head off all day long about crap I don’t care about. Who gives a rip about American Idol at my age? Do you know who Suzy at the drugstore is dating now? Do you know who doesn’t ever want to know? ME!” She grimaced with a look of disgust. Suzy did date a lot. I mean, everyone knew that. Personally, I didn’t think it was anyone’s business. “But, what? Grandma, I can’t let you. I mean, how can you?” I was flabbergasted. This woman always amazed me with her knowledge and wit, her strength and compassion. Yet here she was living a lie because my mother was too chatty and a bit of a gossip? Faking a disability? I mean, she was never officially diagnosed so I guess it wasn’t truly a disability if it never received a medical seal of approval. She sank back into her wicker chair and gazed out across the lawn. “Shh, sweetie. Listen. Just take a moment to listen.” I stopped and settled into my own chair, shutting my eyes and opening my ears. I heard mom clanking around in the kitchen at the back of the house, the wood floor creaking with each step. I heard the motor of the fan whirling at Grandma’s feet and the click each time it changed direction from left to right and back again. I could feel and hear the breeze as it tickled the branches of the large oak that grew in the center of the yard, leaves rustling and chattering to themselves, challenging each other to hang tight and grab the sunlight that was beginning to fade into the late afternoon. The birds voiced their own opinion of events as the neighbor’s wind chimes settled into a few sweet, ringing notes to punctuate the moment. It was beautiful. It was a symphony of peacefulness. My stresses were suddenly distant and less important than the moment in front of me. Grandma sighed. “Do you understand? I don’t have a lot of days left, sweetie. I just want to see, hear, taste, and smell the beauty of my world. I want to soak up every bit until I have my fill. I don’t need to talk about things anymore. Life is too short for that. Talking is just noise. The rest, well, that is life’s background music.” I grabbed her hand. “I love you. I do want you to hear that.” She smiled. “You know I love you. You have always known.” She squeezed my one hand inside both of hers. “This is our secret, right?” She shifted her gaze to the screen door. Mom’s steps were approaching down the hall. I winked at her. “Your secret is safe with me.” The door banged open and mom presented three huge glasses of sweet, iced tea on a platter with some steaming banana bread sliced on a plate. It was my absolute favorite. “Here you go ladies! Fresh out of the oven. Well, fresh but cooled a bit. I wasn’t going to burn my fingers off cutting it. I put extra sugar in the tea for Mom, but seriously, I can’t imagine why she likes it so danged sweet! I mean, diabetes is a thing you know. In fact, did you hear that George down at the hardware store just found out he has the diabetes? I can’t believe it. Shirley is just so distraught. I did tell her years ago that George was putting on too much weight, you know, getting a little thick around the middle. He was always so fit in high school. Running back, I think he was. Bless his heart. Now he must take those shots, that insulin. Not even the pills. I thought they always started them off on the pills. Do you know anything about that, honey?” She was looking at me. “Mom, I’m in school for marketing, not medicine. I bet Grandma would know, but it would take too long to try and tell her everything you just said. I’m sure his doctor did the right thing. Don’t worry, Mom. George and Shirley will figure it out together.” I glanced at Grandma and her eyes were shut, but a grin was playing at the corners of her mouth and her left eyebrow was cocked up like she was silently asking me, “Do you see what I mean?” I completely understand, Grandma. Enjoy your peace.


It was here, and far earlier than it had come last year. There had been no warning despite the dozens of meteorologists and storm chasers that flocked to the ramshackle prairie town in order to study the extraordinarily vicious and long winded storms that plagued it. Last year, the storms had arrived in late May and had stayed swirling and rumbling until August, drenching the fields and annihilating any hope they’d had of having a harvest. Now, April had barely begun and the black clouds were already growling on the horizon. Ivy stood bare and alone in the empty field, fixated on the raging storm that bore down upon her, rocketing closer by the second. Its progress was marked by the violent cracks of lightning that threatened to cleave the sky in two. Fear and adrenaline shot through her when she realized how far she was from the nearest shelter. She had gone out to collect dandelion greens, desperate for anything but the canned preserves that the aid organizations had generously donated to her family and the few others that remained in their soggy huts, stubborn to the last. “That storm won’t get the best of me!” they would shout, waving their arms angrily at the perpetually overcast sky. Ivy wasn’t so sure. Her heart jumped as a magnificent crash exploded across the sky. Ice cold dread wormed its way into her bones at the sheer unforgiving, uncaring nature of the angry black clouds that swallowed her view. Maybe they would swallow her too. Ivy began to run. The seconds flew by at a crawl, the thrumming electricity in the air nipped at the hairs on her neck and the increasing pressure squirmed inside her head and pressed against her eardrums. She had time. She had time. It only just got here, right? She had time. No lightning had struck close yet and the thunder still rumbled a ways off. A threat. A promise. She had time. Another second crawled past, and her time was up. The beast roared from directly above her, sounding its presence with a boom that rattled her skull. Every muscle in her body jolted, and her heart threatened to leap out of her chest and start running itself. The lightning which had seemed such a safe distance away now spit and crackled around her, blazing hot whips that lashed at the sparse trees on the edge of the field. In brilliant flashes of white light, she saw the wood splinter and go careening through the air, thrown by the wind that clawed at her, grasping for purchase on her clothes, her hair, her skin. It was ferocious and acted nothing like the storms she had grown up experiencing. She was terrified, and the storm knew it. It enjoyed her fear. Then came the rain. She was drenched as soon as it hit. It slithered under her clothes and flooded her eyes, her ears, even defying gravity to stream up her nose until she was battling the waves for breath. She was drowning standing up and her tears soon joined the endless torrent. It was bitter cold, but she still threw off her coat to keep running. It could only slow her down now. She saw headlights in the distance and whimpered in relief with what little breath she had to spare. A car couldn’t withstand the storm when it got up to speed, but it would at least get her back to town faster. Her desperate hope faltered when she realized who the vehicles belonged to. The jeeps and trucks were outfitted with a variety of antennae and sensors to read the storms that the meteorologists chased so hungrily. She could just see the pale glow of a few of their faces within the still watertight cabins, crouching over their steering wheels to see in the worsening rain. A part of her knew it was pointless, but Ivy’s desperation won over and she began waving frantically with both arms trying to get one of them to stop. Maybe, just maybe they would take her back to town. Maybe, just maybe, they would listen to her before it was too late. A red SUV rolled to a stop beside her and she didn’t hesitate to throw herself into the back seat, despite the clutter that consumed it. The driver, a dark haired man in his forties, tried to say something before Ivy cut him off. “Take me back to town.” The driver looked at her for a second before turning back around in his seat. “I’m sorry you got wet,” he said. “But it’s my job to record data on this storm. I can turn up the heat if you’re cold-” “You’re not equipped to deal with this,” Ivy hissed. Her bitter tone had obviously startled the man, as he turned back around to look at her. He studied her for just a moment, trying to figure out whether or not she was serious. She was. He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s just-” “Just a storm?” she spat. “Like hell it is. If you drive in there like your buddies right now, you won’t be coming back. Either turn this car around, or I’m getting out and walking. I will not let you kill the both of us with your stupidity.” The man shook his head again and gestured towards the door with a shrug. Ivy took her cue and exited the car, once again shivering in the bitter rain. It welcomed her back with sharpened teeth. Ivy refused to watch as the car’s tail lights disappeared into the gloom. She couldn’t have been that much farther from town, so she used what little energy she had regained to start running once again. The wind toyed with her, blowing her legs so she would trip over herself and scrape her hands on hidden rocks beneath the grass. Even once her knees were bloody and bruised, she kept running. It wouldn’t be long until the hail arrived. She had only been running for a few minutes when she heard a car horn blaring. She turned around to see the red SUV rocketing towards her, skidding across the mud. It had barely stopped before she once more threw herself into the backseat, and they were off again, racing towards town. The dark haired man was considerably paler than when she had left him. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel and he sat fixated straight ahead of him, despite the zero visibility. Ivy looked at her hands. He’d had no reason to believe her, she couldn’t blame him for at least trying to do his job. “What made you turn around?” she asked, barely loud enough to be heard over the pounding rain. The man paled a bit further, but didn’t say anything. She had just begun to think he hadn’t heard her when he spoke. “It threw Allan’s car at me.” Ivy nodded grimly, but didn’t respond. “It landed on the roof. I don’t... I don’t think he’s still alive,” he gulped, and his voice broke. “I could see him through the windshield before it... fell.” Ivy shivered, knowing how close she had been to that fate being hers. It might still be, if they didn’t move fast enough. “I tried to get to him,” he continued. “But before I could, the storm dragged him back into itself. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “That’s when I turned around.” Ivy mustered a small smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry.” They rode in silence until the first shadow of a house appeared. Ivy tapped the man on the shoulder and he nodded dully, parking the car in front of the door. She gestured for him to turn the car off and follow her. She grabbed his sleeve and led him into her house where her parents sat huddled in the living room with deathly stillness. When they saw her, they began to weep and hold her despite the mud and water that clung to her clothes. They didn’t say it, but it was clear they hadn’t expected her to return. Ivy’s mother glanced at the man that stood unmoving in the doorway. “What are you called, dear?” “David,” he responded flatly. Her mother nodded and removed one hand from her daughter to rest on David’s shoulder. “Thank you, David. Come, sit down. Let’s get you warmed.” She guided him to the couch while Ivy wandered to her room to get changed. When she emerged, David was holding a steaming cup of coffee while another sat on the table waiting for her. Her parents did not ask questions. They didn’t need to. The four of them simply sat in the living room, sipping on black coffee and listening to the rain and thunder that rattled the glass in the window panes. The wind fiddled with the door knobs and pushed its way through the smallest of cracks into the house, teasing the curtains. Even so, the house stood defiantly against the storm that battered it. Eventually, the water finally found a hold and began to seep under the door. Nobody budged. Even after the coffee was finished, and the hail was crashing against the tin roof, and their socks were soaked with the growing pool of frigid water, none of them made a move. Not a word was spoken. They merely listened and waited in a grim silence, the silence of four people waiting to drown.


Hello! Had to do some vignette exercises for class, feedback is much appreciated. This city is beautiful in the rain. I’m standing under an awning, inhaling hot smoke from the dangling cigarette between my lips and watching the rain fall in icy sheets over the most beautiful city in the world. It sparkles under all that cold rain, and I’m in love. My cigarette smoke collects under the awning in a cloud as I exhale, and the chilly winter air suddenly filling my lungs stings in contrast. Behind me, I can hear the faint clink of glasses and soft murmurs between friends or lovers (or, both, maybe, if they’re lucky) escaping from the open door of the café out of which I’ve just stepped. The warm, golden light spills onto the sidewalk next to me and calls me back inside, but nothing is more inviting than the city in the rain. Icy water is beginning to seep through the soles of my heels (I wore them for you, you know) and the warm tears that have collected in the corners of my eyes, and which are now sliding down my cheeks, suddenly feel scalding. Soon I’ll drop my cigarette onto the wet sidewalk and extinguish the ash with the toe of my now-ruined shoes, thumb the hot tears away, square my shoulders and turn back to the café to finish telling you goodbye. Goodbye to you, because I can’t say goodbye to this city. Because you are too silly to stay, and the city in the rain is too beautiful to leave. But for the moment I’m standing under the awning, enjoying the burning sensation in my lungs, and the city is shimmering just for me.


Say ‘Thirty, Flirty and Fabulous!’ Shelby rolled her eyes at her two sisters. Both of them holding up their phones to take a photo of the birthday girl. Shelby held out her own phone and took a selfie. She preferred her own camera to theirs. Shelby stood holding a flute of champagne, she was wearing one of the hotels white towel robes with a black swimsuit underneath. She posed a little for the photos holding up her glass. They were planning to go down to the spa after a few selfies and pics and of course after a glass of bubbles. The three of them all looked alike. They all had blonde hair with the same green-blue eyes. Shelby and the older of her sisters-Erin, both had long hair of a similar length. Whereas Kayleigh, the middle sister had shoulder length hair. Each were beautiful. Erin had brought a bottle of champagne and Kayleigh had rang down to reception for the glasses to celebrate the last sister to turn 30. Erin held out her glass and said ‘Happy 30th Birthday Shelby!!’ Shelby and Kayleigh both clinked their glasses with Erin’s and then all three of them took a sip. Each sister were now already in their 30s, Shelby having just turned 30, Kayleigh who was 32 and Erin who was 34. They all were married with children. Shelby had 3 daughters, Kayleigh having 1 daughter and 1 son and Erin with 3 boys. They certainly needed this night away and it was all they have talked about for ages. The Farnham Estate Hotel was one of the top hotels in Ireland. And nearly impossible to get a booking for. Kayleigh who is always the most organised had been able to secure a booking one year in advance. They had planned to book treatments as well. Erin was to book them a little nearer the time, but Erin being Erin, she left it too late. Although the sisters all looked alike, they were totally different in personality. Kayleigh was the one who definitely had OCD and had everything organised to the finest detail. Erin was scatty, always went with the flow, never organised and Shelby, she was nestled right in between. Not as OCD as Kayleigh but there were definitely some traits, and not as chilled out as Erin, but there were days she just chilled out without a care in the world. ‘I have been looking forward to this since forever! A child-free night!! Ahh, we should have booked 2 nights!’ Said Erin whilst taking a sip of her champagne. ’I know! Get me down to that spa! Are yous ready? Or will I meet yous all down there? For I’m heading now!’ Kayleigh replied whilst setting her empty flute down on the dressing table. Shelby was reaching for the bottle and pouring another glass, it might have been her third glass. She hiccupped and said ‘aye, gone you on ahead, I’m drowning my sorrows here, I can’t believe I’m bloody 30, i’m actually depressed at the thought of it!’ ’Wise Up Shelb! That makes us feel amazing with us being older than you! Will we meet you down there then?’ Asked Erin as she grabbed her handbag and walked towards Kayleigh who was already standing at the room door. Shelby replied ‘Aye, il meet yous there in 10 minutes.’ They waved the key at Shelby to show that she needn’t worry about bringing one down with her. Before leaving the room Kayleigh asked ‘Do you know where the spa is yeah?’ Kayleigh and Erin had both been to this particular hotel before, whereas this was Shelby’s first time. Shelby replied ‘Aye, I think I know anyway, I seen a sign earlier.’ With that, Erin and Kayleigh nodded and both left the room. Shelby sat down on the bed and downed her champagne in one. She felt a little tipsy now. She got to her feet and applied some lip balm, fixed her hair and popped on her slippers, then made her way out of the room and down the hall to the lifts. Her robe was gaping a little, she hadn’t retied it before she left. She got into the lift and pressed the button that said ‘G’ for ground, which she is sure she seen a sign for the spa entrance on the way to check in. Down she went in the lift, the doors opened and she stepped out. She paused at the lift for a second looking around to see that no guests were wearing robes. And yep, there was a wedding, there was the bride and groom and all their guests, dressed to impress! She went to turn around abruptly to press the button on the lift, but couldn’t manage it. She twisted her neck around to see what was restricting her. Her robe was caught in the lift. The little screen above the lift, started to change, the lift was moving back up, her robe lifting with it. She was being pulled towards the doors of the lift. She had no other option than to take the robe off and stand in reception with nothing on but her swimsuit in front of all these people dressed in the best! But instead, she found herself holding onto the robe as tightly as ever. The other option too nauseating to even think of. She tried to pull and pull at the robe hoping that it would eventually become free. She hadn’t even realised the position she was getting into, too focused on pulling the robe until it was too late. She had her feet pressed against the top of the elevator doors, a foot in each corner, her back flat against the doors. Her hair trailing against the tiled floor. She was totally upside down. In some sort of acrobatic fashion! As she was brought to the receptionist’s attention after many wedding guests had pointed her out. The receptionist scrambled looking for scissors then grabbing the phone and ringing maintenance hysterically. Shelby watched the whole upside down scene and for a short fleeting moment, she felt like a celebrity trying to hide from paparazzi. But she had nowhere to hide, she could do nothing but stare into the sea of flashing lights as everyone in the reception area were laughing, whispering, pointing and taking photos! Shelby in her tipsy state just shouted ‘Thirty, Flirty and Fabulous!’


We hit the road early in the morning all packed and prepared. Highway was nearly empty at that hour, only a few cars blasted past. Morning sun shone through the windshield and heated the inside of the car, so we opened the windows to let in some of that morning chill. In exchange, we let out the music. Radio roared high and our voices with it even higher. Bottle of vodka was circling among the passengers. I always declined, being the driver. It was fine. They got comfortably drunk, and that only injected more flavour to the atmosphere we were building in that little car. The full-blown drunkenness with screaming and howling and jumping and crying would come, as it always has - but later. We had the destination in mind and the music in the chest and the booze in the stomach and all connected us to the *place*. I love the sunshine on my face. I wore sunglasses with red tint, and they made the world look grand. Massive clouds on the horizon spiralled and danced on the richly coloured background. Everything seemed so out of this world out there and even the road that leads there emits some of that magic. All the roads do - everybody rides their own road and brings their own spirit. I love that - one of the very few times when I do love the humanity and the collective. That’s maybe the reason I love returning there so much. When we saw the big tents for the first time, the car already smelled of spilled vodka so much that if the cops stopped us, I’d probably get busted anyway. It was fine though. I knew that it wouldn’t happen, not today and not for a few days to come. The laugher and the singing that filled the car protected us. By the time we started recognizing the tents the highway was packed with cars. I usually get agitated by such traffic, but these people were the same kind as the bunch of drunks I was driving, same as me. We took the exit towards the field. It was filled with people, barefoot and semi-naked, with painted faces and painted bodies, with high crowns and broad hats and shining eyes. We turned the radio off, but the music remained. Morning chill made way to the summer breeze and we felt great. I parked the car on the field, had a mouthful from the nearly empty bottle and we were good to go. The moment we stepped out of the car we became the crowd, and we were barefoot, and some girl painted on my face. We finished the bottle while erecting our tents. The grass smelled sweet and we ate some oranges and grapes, and somebody gave us a wineskin. To make Bacchus proud, he yelled. We will, we yelled back. The runway that separated the tent city onto two halves was gathering everyone like a great artery, and all were streaming towards the giant stages that towered over the area. They were like temples for us, for those few days. We gathered there and sang and danced. We lost the wineskin very soon - I think it went to spread the word of Bacchus somewhere else. After all, it is very wise. We were still going strong when the first beams of sunrise transformed the milky fog of the dawn into a halo of light. You could hardly see the stage, but the performers where right there, up to the ankles in the mist. All the man needed to make us move was a single trumpet, welcoming the sun.


Breathe in Breathe out The smell of earth after a rain was magnificent, the dirt so rich and full of minerals, like when coffee is freshly brewed. The colors of all living things were vibrant and luscious. It mesmerized the eye, like a thousand jewels in the sun. It was almost intoxicating to all the senses, the beauty of the land we stood on. It’s a day of celebration, and it was as if the world has freshly showered for the occasion. The symbolism of rain was significant; we had all cleansed ourselves in it, both soul and body, with the tears of the sky. Although the wood had to be covered for the great fire that would occur later that night, all other activities resumed as usual. In the center of the field, a pole was placed in the ground, its gold color shimmering like a beacon of light that attracted the young spirits like moths to a flame. Soon, each child would have a brightly colored ribbon in their hand to wrap around the pole with speed and precision, only to unravel it and start again. Woven baskets held an abundance of fresh flowers, their long stems would allow gentle hands to bind one to the next. An infinite circle of brightly scented petals to be crowned on the heads of all, for today we let in the light and shoo away the dark. Spring had come and blessed us with the wondrous joys of life, but summer was here, marked with the equinox and the heat of the sun. The entrance was lined with fire, another cleansing process. Burning away any dark spirits contaminating our souls. More torches would be lit the closer the night came, only to be blown out again for the single uniting flame. On the far side of the field, a stage had been prepared for the theatrics of the story of the Green Man and the May Queen. All of this was so familiar to me. I have lived it for 26 years now, since childhood. Nurtured into religion by my parents. Guided to the love of my life by the stars. I found myself here in memory, the time of our courtship and joining of lives. The day was similar to this one with damp earth and burning flames, it was truly a celebration. I relish in the feeling once more, receiving my delicate crown and sprinting around the pole till my legs could no longer. Rolling down the grass hills, filled with so much life. Now the night was ascending upon us, and more torches were lit, appearing as glowing orbs against the darkening sky. It was nearing time, one that formed a knot in my stomach, lolling around like a heavy stone. The joy of summer had lifted my spirits, but the agonizing darkness still held me down, not quite letting me float from land in a blissful stupor. The reality check that I was still alone. My pang of grief strangled my heart. I watched as they started the fire games. They dodged between sticks of it, juggled it, danced around it, and ran through it, purifying and healing themselves by it. I stood from afar, watching. Disassociating. We were supposed to be together. We were supposed to be doing this together. I’m alone. I thought I had washed away those twisted sorrows in the rain; cleansed my soul and my mind from this funk within. The fears hauntingly resurfaced without permission, blazing in my head like the small torches of fire spread out before me. These feelings were so violently bright, it burned to look and touch them; singeing my soul into the pits of hell. I shoved my emotions down my throat, but it made it hard to breathe and become lodged next to my heart. It ached; my chest. Dropping to my knees, I ask the earth for strength and the full moon for guidance. Asking it to rid me of my love for this man, even if it makes me void of feeling at all. Suddenly the world was very dark, illuminated by the shine of the silver goddess in the sky. I could breathe; my soul felt restored into my body. I realized that the torches had been snuffed out, and the final ceremony was commencing; The Great Fire. It was huge; the outline alone appeared to tower the nearest treeline silhouette, like a mountain. Wood was collected for a year for this massive fire, and it could burn all night. A single match was used, and that was all it took for the entire entity to be engulfed in waves of orange and red. The immense heat radiated, even to me from this distance, and subconsciously I reached for my face to ensure my eyebrows were still intact. My flesh was dewed after many tears had escaped my leaking eyes from my earlier episode. I felt entranced, lingering between the feelings of loss and awe of the sight of the fire. Trapped between enjoying the warmth and wanting to incinerate my being. I found myself standing at the base of the fire. The lump in my throat became increasingly uncomfortable, it itched and burned, My palms sweat, possibly from the heat or the anxiety in my veins, and it made it difficult to retrieve the only thing I brought from my pocket. The picture was crumpled, and I carefully straightened the edges. It was a photo of us, from this day 4 years ago. I brought it to burn it, but his face was so captivating. The softness of his hair and the scent of his skin still lingered in my mind. The large fire was meant to be unifying, yet I feel so alien. I realized I didn’t know what I was doing here. I came here to celebrate. Celebrate what? My own self-pity? That I have no one? This was ridiculous. I thought I could move past this pain, but it gripped me at the core. I’m not ready to move on. I can’t be here. I feel the eyes of the others surrounding the fire, waiting to see what I will do next, but even I don’t know what I will do. I just knew that this was not the place, not the time. I wanted so desperately to move on only to reach the summit and realize I can’t. I chickened out. It was too much for my heart, still freshly riddled with injury, oozing blood outside my veins. This was not my happy Beltane. I’ll try again next year.


**“You should have known better than to meddle with the heretics. They want to destroy everything we’ve build in the name of the Almighty and you crawl to them like a beat up dog. Your deeds are unforgivable. You let me down, but most importantly, you let down our Lord. For that, you will be punished.”** **“Yes, father. I accept my punishment. I deserve it.”**  *Pain. Pain is just a sign. Sign of the storm about to come. Pain has no power. Pain doesn’t cleanse. The stained flesh has to go. It needs to be ripped from the bone. And if the sin is rooted deep in the bones... The bones are just like dead branches in the wind. It's just a matter of time until they break and turn to dust.*  **“Witness the machine of our Lord! This will purify you. I was hoping I could get rid of your past but I should’ve known better. There’s heretic’s blood in your veins. Bad blood. We need to get rid of it. There’s no other way.”**  *Fear is an enemy. It attacks from the shadows. When the steel first burrows into the flesh. When the blood leaks out. When the bones start to crack. Fear is unavoidable. But you have to fight it. Screaming helps.*  **“I’ll come back for you once all evil has left your body. When your soul is pure like when you first came to us.”**  *Darkness is comforting. There’s no sunlight down here. I don’t deserve it. I’m not counting hours or days. I’m just waiting to be clean. I watch as the evil blood and flesh all disappear down the drains. I listen to the bones that cry under the weight. It’s just me in the darkness. Me and the weight I’ve brought on myself. I don’t need any company. I don’t deserve any company.*  **“Down here, I’ve found them!”** **“There’s a lot of them. We need to get them out.”**  *Clarity is freeing. I heard noise. I felt the heat of a fire. There’s a war. In my head and everywhere around. I feel the sinful life drip away from my body. I’m so close. He’s calling me. My soul. Pure, without a stain.*  **“Oh my... What have they been doing to them?”** **“What the fuck... Look at this one.”** **“Holy shit... C’mon, let’s get him out of there.”** **“How? I can’t even tell where his head is...”** **“But he’s breathing. Look! It’s still... breathing.”** **“How is that even possible?”** **“We need to get him out.”** **“Even if we somehow get him out... what will be left of him?”** **“...”** **“I’ll just end it. It’s the most merciful thing we can do.”** **“...”**  *The light is blinding. The pain is leaving me. Fear is back. I’m entering the unkown. My bent bones. Torn-apart flesh. All full of sin. I leave it all behind. Leave it all down there. Fear fades away. It’s been so long. I forgot how it feels like to not be in pain. Life is pain. The fog clears. I feel... warmth, but not heat. I see a house. I grew up there. And inside? The Almighty is waiting for me. He’s pulling me in. And when my eyes get used to the brightness I see...*  **“... M-... Mother?”** \H. Any and all feedback appreciated.