In a land far away, where the sun always shone in summer and the snow was crisp and cold in winter, a man and his wife were making their way through the forest in a light carriage drawn by two coal black horses. Moonlight gleamed through the bare branches of the trees; and in the distance, the faint howl of a wolf floated on the still night air. Then twigs cracked as a large, bearded man stepped through the beeches and approached the conveyance. The horses pulled to an abrupt halt and the driver addressed the stranger. “Can we help you, Sir?” Without making a verbal response, the bearded man pulled out a wicked-looking knife and held it to the driver’s throat. “Give me your valuables,” he rasped, his voice dark as night and thick as fog. The driver laughed, despite the knife at his throat. “We have no gold - if that’s what you’re after.” His proud voice told the brigand that he was not a servant. Strange. The bearded man snarled, and his blade gleamed in the moonlight. “Then I will take your carriage and horses,” he declared. “At least they will fetch some coin when I sell them.” At this, the woman’s eyes flashed. “You cannot take our carriage,” she protested. “This forest is miles from anywhere and it is beginning to snow. We shall freeze to death if we are left to continue our journey on foot.” “Then perhaps I should put you out of your misery quickly,” their assailant growled, drawing his blade across the driver’s throat. A scarlet necklace shimmered around the man’s neck before he toppled from his seat. Meanwhile, his wife remained frozen in horror. What had she done? Were it not for her words, her husband... She had no time to complete the thought before the blade found her heart. A red flower bloomed across her pale gown and she crumpled into death. Dragging the bodies from the carriage, the bearded man coolly regarded his handiwork. He would have preferred a casket of gold and jewels to a pair of horses and a carriage that had seen better days, but at least he would leave with something. Perhaps there was a trinket or to inside the vehicle? He wondered now why there had been no coachman and why the wife had remained by her husband’s side instead of travelling inside like a lady. A thin cry suddenly rent the air and the bearded man paused. Ripping open the carriage door, he was met with the sight of a basket containing a swaddled babe. One more life to dispose of, then. He paused again. Or he could remove the basket from the carriage and leave the child to the mercy of the wild animals. Within seconds, the basket lay on the ground, snow covering it as gently as any mother, and the carriage rumbled away into the distance. The ground was white and cold. She Who Runs With The Wind stopped and sniffed the air, scenting something that was Not-Wolf. It was not one of the small, furry creatures that lived in the trees, nor one of those who burrowed beneath the earth like their cousins - the Ones With Red Coats or the Ones With Striped Faces. Whatever it was, it was hungry: its smell was accompanied by a thin, mewling sound like a cub squeaking for milk. She Who Runs With The Wind followed the scent and the sound of the cry and found a small creature wrapped in strange fur. Nosing the stiff layers aside, she saw that the cub had no fur of its own: its limbs were pink and naked. A memory stirred inside her. They had not seen a Two Legs for many moons, and this creature was far smaller than any Two Legs she remembered; but cubs were always small. Her first litter had been smaller still and yet they were all now full grown. The Not-Wolf cub mewled again, and the sound reminded her of her own full dugs and the babies waiting in the lair. There was room for one more. Taking the stiff folds of not-fur in her teeth, she carried the youngling back to her nest and the soft, furry bodies that awaited her return. Seasons changed and the Not-Wolf cub thrived on her wolf-mother’s milk and grew strong and healthy. When she had seen five summers, her older brothers taught her to hunt. She had only two legs, but she kept pace with the rest of the pack, her eyes bright and laughing as she joined the chase for prey. Summer faded into autumn, and then the cold weather arrived; the cycle continued, year after year, until Eyes Like Stars was fully grown. Her body was still pink and hairless apart from the long, shaggy fur that grew on her head and rippled over her back like a waterfall. She Who Runs With The Wind was old now and her fur had turned silver. She loved Eyes Like Stars as if she were her own cub, but she knew her daughter would need a mate and that it should be another Two Legs like herself. But how to achieve this? Eyes Like Stars knew only wolf speech and wolf ways. Would her own kind accept her when she was so different? Sunlight dappled the forest floor, glinting through the leaves of the tall beech trees. Stepping carefully, a proud stallion came into view, and on its back sat Prince Ferdinand, the ruler of the realm. His face was handsome despite the cruel mouth; and his hair was as black as his heart. The sound of running water led him to a clearing containing a secluded pool and waterfall. The water sparkled in the sunlight, but he hardly noticed it: his gaze was utterly transfixed by the beautiful creature he saw bathing under the cascading water. Long, lean limbs as white as milk were offset by rounded curves, and a mane of fiery red hair rippled down the woman’s back. She was magnificent. His loins flamed with lust at the sight of her. He had to have her. Dismounting quickly, he made his way towards the pool, calling to her as he did so. “I mean you no harm. I am Prince Ferdinand, your ruler.” She looked up at the sound of his voice, but she gave no word of reply. Stranger still, she did not seem embarrassed by his presence or her own nakedness. Light! She was beautiful. Lust flamed again. “What’s your name?” he asked. He did not normally bother with such niceties. The eyes she turned on him were large and luminous. They gleamed like emeralds when the light caught them. Still she made no response. Anger flared in him now. How dare she refuse to answer! Withdrawing his sword from his scabbard, he waded into the water, thrusting his blade at her to show her he meant business. Eyes Like Stars watched the stranger warily. He smelled wrong. His scent was sharp spikes of anger, but there was something else too: something she could not name. He was holding something sharp and pointed, like a claw or a tooth but much longer. Was he attacking her? Surely he could not think her prey! He was making strange, unintelligible noises with his mouth - so different from the way she and her wolf-family communicated. She was used to hearing another’s mind, to seeing the pictures he thought of when he had something to share; but this creature was loud and clumsy, yelping the way the young ones sometimes did at the moon and making even less sense. He had reached her now. Her skin and hair dripped water, but he did not care. He would taste her here in the pool, and then he would carry her back to his castle. She would warm his bed very nicely for a while. Closing the gap between them, he extended his fingers towards her face, then recoiled in shock. She had bitten him! Droplets of red oozed from his wound. So, she liked to play rough, did she? Well, he did too. Eyes Like Stars staggered as something slammed into her face. Fiery pain danced in her head; her vision blurred. Once more, the creature struck her; and then again and again until she tasted blood. Desperately, she sent out a plea to her brothers. Danger! Come quickly. But he was already dragging her from the water, the long, sharp claw at her ribs promising more pain. Ferdinand hurried the girl out of the pool. He had not meant to bloody her as much as that. Nevertheless, there had been something satisfying about slamming his fist into her over and over again. He did not want her in this condition, though. No, better to wait until they were back at the castle and she had been cleaned up a little. Perhaps he should ask a Wise Woman to heal her bruises. He wanted her beauty to be perfect when he took her. Forcing her onto her knees, he held his sword to her neck with one hand while the other fumbled at his pouch for the thin leather cord he kept there. One never knew when such things would come in handy... Deftly tying her wrists behind her back, he jerked her to her feet again. He could not see any clothes beside the pool, but she still did not seem to care that she was naked. Removing his cloak, he wrapped it around her - not because he wanted to protect her modesty but because he could not bear the thought of any other man looking at her. She was his. Indicating his horse, he asked her if she knew how to ride. She did not answer, so he heaved her over the saddle and then climbed up behind her. Kicking the animal into a trot, he began to take his prize home. Serella stared in shock at the woman in front of her - not at the cuts and bruises: she was used to seeing the prince’s handiwork by now; but at the red hair and green eyes that marked the royal house of Elnor and the line that had been eradicated when Ferdinand usurped the throne all those years ago. For fifteen years, she had held her tongue, not wanting to find herself at the mercy of the headsman’s axe like so many of the others who had denounced Ferdinand, but this girl had to be the long-lost heir. “What is your name, Child?” she asked. The red-haired girl gazed at her silently. Tentatively, Serella reached out tendrils of power and gently touched the girl’s mind. The gift was often useful when dealing with the girls brought to her by Ferdinand. Others might be able to heal the physical wounds, but she was the only one who could delve deeper. What she saw made her pause. Human words did not exist in this child’s mind: instead, images of the forest merged with wolves and other creatures, all of this overlaid with a sense of contentment. The scene changed to a sunlit pool and she was watching through the girl’s eyes as Ferdinand strode towards her, sharing first the confusion and then the pain of what followed. Shaking, Serella drew back. The rightful heir to the throne could not speak: she was more animal than human. Yet the land needed her. Ferdinand inspired no love in the people and many longed for the tyrant’s reign to end. Was it possible to teach her? But it would take years for the girl to learn the language she had never known. Still, perhaps there was a way... Placing her hand on the girl’s head, she began probing gently, reaching out with the power to weave strands of human speech with the thought pictures she had seen earlier. Eyes Like Stars found her eyes darting fearfully around her surroundings. The place she was in seemed like a cave, but larger and lighter than any cave she had known before. The floor was hard underfoot and yet something soft as fur but strangely coloured covered it. It was like treading upon moss. There was a stranger in front of her: another Two Legs like herself and the wrong-smelling pack leader she had encountered in the forest. Until now, she had believed herself the only one. This one was different to the other. Her smell was not dissimilar to Wolf Mother. Eyes Like Stars sniffed and tasted kindness, her mind filling with warmth and love. This one would keep her safe. A sudden shock as an unknown feeling rippled through her. Pictures in her mind accompanied by strange sounds. Sight and sound merged together and she realised she could understand the noises made by this new Two Legs. “My name is Serella and I am a Wise Woman: a Healer. What is your name?” She began to send an image of a night sky and shining stars, but the Wise Woman interrupted her. “Use your words, Child.” Words? The Wise Woman guided her, almost as if nudging her in the right direction. “Stars,” she said hesitantly. “Stars glowing in the big dark and eyes glowing like stars. My name is Eyes Like Stars.” She looked into the older female’s eyes. “Can you help me return to my brother wolves?” “Oh, Child.” The Wise One sounded regretful. “You do not remember.” Again, something touched her mind. Memories that had lain sleeping for a lifetime seeped back. She was cradled in loving arms, gazing up into the eyes of a Two Legs who smelled of milk. She was rocked to sleep and knew only contentment and peace. The world shifted. The stranger with the wrong smell was in front of her, a sharp claw in his hand like the one from the forest, but not as long. The word came to her now: knife. A smell of anger mixed with fear. A blur behind him as the Two Legs who had held her tried to stop him. Noise. Confusion. Other hands plucking her away hurriedly, running through stone caves - passages - to take her to safety. Human speech flooded her mind in time with the images. Two strangers had carried her to safety, stuffing her into a basket, racing away in a box on wheels - a carriage - pulled by two large creatures with long legs - horses. At first the woman had sat inside the carriage with her; then, as the motion began to rock Eyes Like Stars to sleep, the woman had disappeared. Later, a sudden halt. She had woken up, wanting food, but no one came in answer to her call. Then, chill air all around her - something soft and white and cold, falling from the sky. And then, Mother Wolf. The memories faded. She knew her past, and she had words to describe it. Looking at the Wise Woman, she asked, “Who am I?” When Prince Ferdinand returned to the chamber, he found the girl standing there, her cuts and bruises already healed. “Leave us,” he told the Wise Woman. The girl eyed him coldly. “You will not lay a finger on me!” she exclaimed. “You killed my parents - and you wanted to kill me.” Her parents? What was she talking about? He had executed many peasants over the years, but they had all deserved it. “You do not know who I am.” Her tone was bitter. “I am the child you tried to kill - the rightful heir to the realm.” His hand flew to the sword at his side. She had tricked him! She had enticed him to bring her here so that she could take his crown. Pressing his blade against her throat, he called for his guards. Only when she was bound with ropes did he relax. He did not want her now. He could not trust her hands to be anywhere near him - nor her teeth. Subconsciously, he rubbed the tender spot where her bite had broken the skin. “She will die the death of all traitors!” he declared. “Take her to the wolf pit!” The beasts had not been fed for a week. They would tear her limb from limb. He could not understand why a smile played on her lips. Huddled amongst the soft bodies of her wolf brothers, Eyes Like Stars stretched and yawned. She had slept well. She was glad that she had not lost her closeness to her forest family despite now having the speech of humans. She was human too; but in her heart, she would always be part-wolf. Dawn stretched out rosy fingers, painting the sky with a blush of hope. Soon he would be here; and then... Ferdinand hurried to the pit. The wolves were always sleepy and docile after they had fed. A pity, really, to give them such a nubile creature, but he had not trusted her one inch - not once he learned her true identity. There would be other women, though - and when he tired of them, they too would feed his pets. Chuckling a little, he let himself in through the iron gate. The grey, shaggy mass did not stir. Was any part of her left? he wondered. He sometimes kept body parts as souvenirs. Picking his way towards the sleeping creatures, he froze suddenly. The girl, unharmed, rose from the midst of the wolves. Their yellow eyes followed her as she walked towards him. “No,” he croaked. “It’s not possible.” Ignoring him, she turned to the pack and opened her mind. Kill him. And with that, they ripped him apart. The land rejoiced for weeks at the death of Ferdinand. They would have made Eyes Like Stars queen straight away, but she refused. “My place is in the forest,” she said, telling them that Serella would rule in her stead. And she left the castle, her wolf brothers trotting beside her, and returned to the life she knew.


most of the words in the conversations are in the way we talk in Nigeria so it is not totally wrong, I was just trying to catch the same experience “That’s the thing about this city” Kanka complained as he bit of a piece of peppered meat from the skewered suya we bought on our way back from our outing. We did this every Saturday, we leave school campus and I would take us out anywhere because I was the rich friend with the money to do so. After the day we walk from a close distance back to school. “Yeah” I agreed, one of my hands in my pocket and the other holding my own suya in a black polythene bag. I always wondered why Kanka liked to eat his while walking. “Everybody here just has to struggle by themselves and people are just rough, it’s like we are fighting an every man for himself battle that I don’t know about” he continued “Then again everything is just too expensive they’ll just go and raise price for no reason. For instance now see this suya we bought, only for this four pieces of meat they collected N100 when it was 50 before” then he threw away the stick and licked the spice off his hands. As he spoke I just nodded quietly in affirmation to what he said as I listened. I didn’t like to talk much Kanka was the talker and that was what made him approach me after one of our lectures, he said I was too quiet for his liking and I just shrugged my shoulders still not saying anything so from then on he always met up with me all the time, it was like he was everywhere. I was kind of forced to be his friend since he was hanging around me all the time. I liked him though he was nice and outspoken but he could be a bit rough at times, I reprimanded him so I was like his check for his errors. “Kanka I am tired of walking, let us take bus or taxi back” I grumbled “Hah, Jide you are already tired. Is this not the normal distance we always walk back” he asked. It wasn’t a question to be answered so I just continued. “See if you want to continue walking you can continue but I am taking taxi back” I argued “Okay oh. I you insist but you know it is not remaining that far to walk again, if we just pass-” he was saying but I glared at him and he stopped. I turned to the road to hail any taxi that passed and luckily one stopped. The battered blue and white car chugged to stop beside me, I bent to the window so I could speak to the driver. “Where to?” the driver asked me but I was assessing the driver and his car. The car was shabby as usual for most taxis then I looked up at his face staring at the tribal marks he had on his cheeks before I answered “Ehm, UNIPORT campus side” “Okay enter I know the place” I ignored him, which Port Harcourt driver didn’t know UNIPORT. “How much?” I ask him instead “It’s 200” he said in pidgin as he chewed on his toothpick “How? It is not too far from here. Collect 100 now” I argued switching quickly to Pidgin English so he wouldn’t think I am a rich child that doesn’t know outside and can be deceived easily. The driver just shook his head insisting he would stick to his price. “You don’t know that price of fuel has increased?” he asked but it was rhetorical, I meant who didn’t know about the fuel increase. I turned back to look at Kanka, he just stood there arms folded and he wasn’t even helping then he gave me a thumbs up, I faced the driver again. “Okay, oga take 150” I still continued in pidgin with him, he glanced warily at me from his side view and took out the toothpick from his mouth “That boy there is joining too?” he asked pointing with his toothpick “Yeah, yes he is” though in my mind I meant to tell him no so Kanka would walk back by himself “Enter” I pulled the hand to open the door but it didn’t open, I tried again and it felt like the handle was going to break I didn’t want to pay extra so I just rapped on the on the window, the driver turned back stretched himself so he could reach the back and he opened the door from the inside. “Eh sorry, the door has problem” he muttered with a shaky smile as he scratched the back of his head. I am sure it is not the only place with a problem I mumbled in my head and with that we got into the taxi. I always felt like all the taxi’s had one smell but it wasn’t too bad, they all had the same dank smell. As we got into the car and sat I sunk into my seat, like really sunk inside, the seat was old and tired. I looked at the driver but he was driving and couldn’t see me, I was sure he wasn’t bothered about the state of the seats as long as they could carry passengers. “Oga, you will not change the chairs” Kanka asked in pidgin, I mean he spoke pidgin most of the time, he was a PH boy. “No, I am waiting for something” he replied I bent my head close to Kanka and whispered in his ear “I am sure he is waiting till a passenger falls through” We both laughed heartily and I was sure the driver felt we were joking about him, he looked up at the rearview mirror and asked what but we didn’t have the time to answer we had already reached our destination. I pushed myself up a little to bring my wallet out of my back pocket, quickly bringing the money out I paid him and we hurried out of the car then he drove of angrily. Kanka and I just stood on the sidewalk still laughing. Another of our outing has ended the same way, us laughing about something. It was like something awkward or funny always happened after we went out. Kanka had stopped laughing but I was still smiling and he just looked at me like I was crazy. “Guy, stop laughing. Somebody will think you are mad” Kanka said punching my arm, I just stared back at him still smiling. “ Bia , Jide it is okay. Joke has finished” he said pushing me again “Okay, okay. I have heard, let us go inside” We didn’t stay in the hostels on campus instead we stayed in the lodges off campus because the hostels were always bad in most public universities. When we got to our lodge, some of our other house mates were outside gisting* or playing whot (a card game) we greeted them and went to our rooms, I would have liked to stay out there with them but the next day was Sunday so I wanted to go to bed early for mass the next morning. “Good night” I said to Kanka as I got into my room, he was in the room beside mine “Ah, you’re going to bed already” he exclaimed. I looked at my watch it was ten minutes to eight. “What? Is it too early?” “Yes now” “Kanka tomorrow is Sunday and I have some assignments pending” He shrugged his shoulders “Anyways, I am going somewhere and I have to see my mum” He left and I went into my room and sat at my study table. Kanka’s mother was sick in the hospital and his family wasn’t so well off so he had to work small jobs to help raise money for her bills. I offered him money but he had too much pride to accept it, he said he would feel more comfortable working for it and that she wasn’t dying so I let it be. My phone vibrated in my pocket, brought it out and looked at the screen it was a credit alert from my bank of 50,000 from my father. Swiping open the phone I typed in my password and opened my WhatsApp. I had to thank him immediately if not we would have a lot of trouble between us. ‘Thank you sir for accepting my request for the money’ I typed in properly, I reread it to find errors no matter how short it was and sent it, looking at it again I felt like it was too shabby so I added a little more ‘I will try to spend it wisely and give you a detailed review of my spending’ I felt more satisfied. When I turned I noticed the suya in polythene bag beside me along with few other things I bought, I had completely forgotten about them. Touching it the suya was still warm I decided to eat now after all I didn’t have the strength to cook anything now. I was getting ready for church the next morning then I got a call from Kanka’s sister, I answered the call ‘Yes’ I was trying to put on my cuff links ‘Um, this is Jide right?’ ‘Yes’ ‘Please hurry to the hospital now, the teaching hospital’ she was crying ‘What is wrong, you are getting me tensed up’ ‘It’s Kanka’ and that was what it took, I dropped my phone. I still heard her calling me over the phone. I threw my cuff links and picked up the phone, running out of my room got outside and hailed the first keke that I saw and I just barked teaching hospital. We got there I just threw the money to the driver and ran into the hospital, and grabbed the nurse walking past “Where’s the room for the emergency” but she just angrily stared at me then pulled her arm free “Who are you?” she asked “I am sorry but where is the emergency ward?” I tried to sound polite but truly I was scared After giving me a onceover she answered “Go down that hall the last door. Are you family?” I ignored her question and rushed down the hall. I burst into the room and I saw him, the ever vibrant Kanka, with so many friends and was always smiling or moving around was now confined to the bed wires running around him. I was broken by the sight of him. I sat down beside him and held his hand before he stirred “My God Kanka” I cried, he looked at me and seeing the tears in my eyes he laughed softly as his energy could carry him. “Stop laughing this is serious. What happened?” he looked at me and tears streamed from his eyes. “You are scaring me! What happened?” gripping my hand tighter and told me what happened. He had joined a robbery scheme to earn money for his mother and it didn’t go well, he had gotten caught in crossfire with the police. He had maned to escape with bullet shots to his hand and stomach. “Kanka I told you to let me help didn’t I?” “My pride would have been really hurt and I-” but I cut him off “What pride eh?! What kind of rubbish pride is that?!” I shouted “was the pride that cost your live worth it?” He looked at me, squeezed my hand and smiled “I am shocked you can shout” I pulled my hand from his hold “How much for your treatment?” “No I won’t tell you, just leave it” I wanted to hit him but seeing his state I reconsidered “Kanka seriously” “I am being serious, rather take the money and help my mum” “I will help the both of you” “No it won’t be necessary for me but my mum, she needs it” I opened my mouth to say something but seeing the expression on his face I understood. “It’s the city right it does things to you, now its condition takes your life” i said solemly *gisting - just like conversing


Based on conversations and events that took place whilst waiting in the queue to see the Queen lying in state during September 2022 Fifteen minutes before the start of the queue “Excuse me” asked Pete frantically looking down at the map on his phone, failing to catch the attention of his Uber driver. He tried again but this time with more gusto. “Excuse ME?” The Uber driver took out the wireless headphone from his left ear with a weary sigh of a man not enjoying the 5am pick up. “Yes mate?” “I’m looking at the map and it looks like the start of the queue has changed. Can I change my destination?” pleaded Pete hoping this was an option. The driver looked utterly confused. “I have no idea what you just said, mate!” It was Pete’s turn to sigh now. He was slowly realising it would take two attempts to get anywhere with this guy. “So... y’know lots of people are queuing to see the Queen’s coffin?” “Errr yeah?” said the Uber driver only half getting the gist this time. “Well it looks like the start of the queue has changed so can you go left here and head for Tower Bridge?” The driver sighed even heavier this time and shook his head. “Sorry mate I can’t do that and there’s nowhere to stop round here.” Pete looked into his driver’s eyes and could smell bullshit a mile off. Before he could change his mind, he opened the car door. “Fine! I’ll get out here then. Cheers!” Pete petulantly stated to his driver with his body halfway out. Pete didn’t hear the Uber guy’s response as he was already across the road and jogging towards his revised destination. The start of the queue “Excuse me? Where do you get wristbands?” asked Pete sounding slightly out of breath. He wasn’t used to running at this time of the morning. In fact, he wasn’t used to running at any time of the day. “Just down there, buddy. Good luck!” said the volunteer noticing how wheezy Pete was already when he hadn’t even joined the queue yet. Pete power walked past another 50 people darting in and out of the human obstacles like he was going for gold at Human Crufts. Five minutes later Pete had a gold wristband on his arm and reached a wall of humans signalling the official start of the queue. Tower Bridge, glowing purple in the early morning night sky looked glorious. A fitting tribute to Her Majesty and an unforgettable start to Pete’s journey. Whilst he looked down the Thames, enjoying being so close to all these wonderful sights from his childhood, a number of unfamiliar voices lit up around him. “There we go, Mum. No turning back now. Let the queue begin!” “Oh Lee, me legs are already hurtin’.” “Keep moving your plates of meat and you’ll be fine.” Pete smiled to himself as he realised these were his queue buddies for the next few hours. He turned round to say hello. “It should warm up once the sun comes up so hopefully that will help. I’m Pete by the way.” Lee and his Mum shook Pete’s hand. “I’m Lee and this is my Mum. We got up at 3am and came down on a train from Bedford and here we are!” Before Pete could respond, another new voice in front of him responded to Lee. “Not too far then. I’ve come down from Northampton, representing my family who think I’m crazy doing this. A 45-year-old woman with a dodgy hip walking and standing for hours. Sorry, I’m Peggy.” Pete, Lee, Lee’s Mum and Peggy all said hello to each other as they gently strolled in line with the rest of this long queue which stretched miles down the river towards Westminster. For minutes no further words were exchanged as they all got used to their surroundings, soaking up the enormity of this experience. Lee, full of naïve energy broke the silence. “I wonder if Prince Charles, sorry King Charles is up yet? God! It’s gonna take a while getting used to that.” “I know! All our lives he’s been the Prince so it’s only natural your brain won’t adjust instantly,” said Peggy, as she tried to keep pace with the queue which was flowing down the river like a regal conga line. “I think even Charles would understand that. I don’t think I’ll sing “God Save The King” right for a while. I’ll be singing Queen for a bit,” said Lee’s Mum, who giggled with her queue buddies. “So... how long do we think this will take? Mum, you first.” Lee lightly poked the side of his Mum’s tummy. “Well... I’m hoping about four hours as that’s me limit.” “Four hours!? It would take that if there wasn’t a queue?” said Lee looking at his Mum like she had just farted. Pete went next. “The YouTube tracker said 11 hours so I’ll go with that.” Everyone nodded as Peggy interjected. “In that case I’ll say nine hours as I’m sure that tracker is worst case scenario.” Lee’s eyes looked panicked as he attempted to control his breathing. “Well I hope you’re all wrong. I maybe 21 and half all your ages but I looked at the tracker yesterday and it said it was only six hours from this point so I’ll go with that. Anyway, let’s just enjoy the experience. This’ll never happen again!” They all silently nodded, quietly hoping Lee’s Mum was right, as they continued to stroll in line with the rest of the thousands of people from all walks of life winding all along this stretch of the Thames. Eleven hours in the queue “Not long now, Lee!” said Peggy trying to cheer up her fellow queue buddy. “I don’t believe you anymore! You’ve been saying that for shitting hours! My feet are falling off, you said once we reach the zig zag in the gardens it would be an hour. We’ve been zigging and zagging for nearly three bloody hours. I deserve a medal for this!” said Lee with a level of exasperation he had never experienced before. Not even that time he had to wait an hour for a pizza from Just Eat one time. Pete, spotted a joke and took a risk. “The king should give you a QBE. Queuer of the British Empire.” Lee’s grumpy face froze for a second before erupting into a huge smile and raucous laugh. His Mum, Peggy and Pete all joined in, relieved the moaning of this young guy had stopped for a moment. The other zig zaggers around them wondered what was going on. Pete continued with something he’d been thinking about for a while as they zigged before further zagging. “It’s funny. All yesterday on the news every person they interviewed in the queue were so happy and yet the reality for us has been quite different. I feel like they should interview Lee before we go in.” Lee smiled before responding. “Haha! Yeah and as soon as the cameras roll they ask me ‘How has the experience been?’ and I’ll lie my ass off and say ‘Yeah loved it!’ even though my feet are bloody numb.” “Weird you wore those shoes because you wanted to be comfy.” “Mum, I know but these shoes are shit! They don’t work. There’s no bounce to ‘em. I’m burning them as soon as we get home.” Lee pointed towards his shit expensive gold laced shoes throughout his latest rant. Pete and Peggy kept smirking at each other thoroughly enjoying the multiple novels worth of moaning they’d heard from this guy today. Lee launched into another fresh rant without catching his breath. “I heard someone say the guards change every 20 minutes?! Lazy bastards. They could do an hour each and speed this bloody queue up! We’d have been in there by now if they just stood up for a bit longer. Madness!” Pete took another look down the zig zag, they really were nearly there. “Speed up everyone, I think this is it.” This group of strangers dug deep to make one last dash towards Westminster Hall. Approaching the end of the zig zag they came to what appeared to be one final winding path towards the door leading to their destination. This gave Lee enough time for one last thought. “Guys, I know I’ve moaned a bit today but I’m 21 years old so got a lot of life to live. Hopefully my feet will fully recover and spring to life again soon. But at least you met a load of nutters like me in the line to cheer you up.” Pete, Peggy, Lee and his Mum all nodded in silence, reminiscing on the last 11 hours and what lay ahead in a few short moments. Reaching the airport security tent for one final check, Pete added one final remark to his queue buddies. “And if you think about it that’s what the Queen mostly did for 70 years - meeting nutters in a line. So in many ways this last 11 hours has given us a taste of what the life of this great monarch was like.” Chuckling to each other everyone took off coats, jewellery, belts and bags to allow them entry into the hall. Lee’s Mum forgot about the phone in her pocket delaying the group but, rather than go on without them, Pete and Peggy waited for them. They started the day together so it was important to end it as one. Words were no longer necessary as they walked slowly down the side of the hall towards the entrance. Just glances at each other trying to express that it was finally going to happen. No more delays, queues, zig zags, bridges to cross or false dawns. The time had come. As they all made their way up the carpeted steps, lugging their broken bodies slowly upwards it all dawned on them the enormity of the occasion. This building was their final destination and by the time they reached the top of the stairs all of their aches, pains, grumbles and grievances were gone, replaced by the emotion and grief that brought them all to the queue in the first place. They may have been from very different backgrounds but the one thing they shared was the love of the Queen and all she represented. Staring down at her coffin, preparing to head down into the main hall, Pete’s body went numb in disbelief at where he was standing, what he had achieved and what he was about to do. He quickly composed himself, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and descended these final set of steps to honour Her Majesty, say thank you and goodbye to this great woman.


What in the World Happened? “Joanie, watch where you step! Where are your shoes?” “They’re missing,” Joan answered, “How am I supposed to get to my room?” Kate sighed deeply, pushing her long, tawny-colored hair behind her ears for the umpteenth time. “Hold on, I’ll figure something out.” She went upstairs and searched Joan’s room. Finding only dress shoes, she gathered some rugs from the three bedrooms, pausing only briefly to look at Wendy passed out on her bed. That was when she noticed Joan’s shoes on her feet. Kate removed them saying, “We’re going to have a discussion tomorrow and you’re not going to like it,” Then she returned the rugs to their places. “Here,” she said, handing the shoes to Joan, “Where did you find them?” “On Wendy’s feet. She must have put them on in her drunken stupor.” “It was partially your fault,” Joan snapped. “My fault! How do you figure? I didn‘t force her to drink so much.” “You told Tom and Jerry they could bring their friends with them, along with the keg.” Kate recalled the conversation from earlier in the night when Tom had said they would be late and were bringing two other guys. There was no mention of a keg. If only she had known how things would turn out. Then she defended herself, “I did not! I never even got the chance to say, ‘no’ before he hung up. When I tried to call him back, he wouldn’t answer.” “You didn’t have to let them in.” “They’re your friends too! Why didn’t you tell them ‘no’?” “I’m not going to discuss it anymore. I’m tired enough as it is and arguing isn’t going to clean this mess,” Joan said, then asked, “Do you think the landlord will find out?” “I guarantee he will,” Kate replied, “He probably listens to the police scanner to see if any of his properties are being swatted.” Joan couldn’t stifle a laugh. “I can picture him sitting at home doing just that!” Then she pulled out the vacuum cleaner. Kate looked at the devastation surrounding her. Red plastic cups littered the room and the smell of beer was overwhelming. The two matching chairs that her parents had allowed her to have were both on their sides. Several hats lay on the floor, undoubtedly left by the combatants when the police took them away. Through the doorway, the keg sat in its plastic, garbage-can “icebox” in the kitchen. The thing that bothered her most was the shattered glass that had been covering her artwork. The other girls were very enthused when Kate offered to decorate the living area with the pieces. Now, not only were they not hanging on the walls, they were mangled messes. Tears filled her eyes as she stared. “I’m sorry about your art,” Joan said as she followed Kate‘s gaze, “I know how proud you were of them. Stupid Neanderthals.” Kate silently walked over to each piece and gently picked them up, shaking them to ensure that no glass was still on them. First was the ripped painting of the patch of sunflowers that grew in a corner of the backyard at home. Then there was the one of her black and gray tabby cat stretched out on the floor soaking up an afternoon sunbeam. Now Patches was without part of his tail. Finally, there was her favorite; a beach scene from the trip to Hilton Head Island. Her dad had surprised the family after secretly saving money for years. The happy little clouds were now wrinkled beyond repair. After she collected all of the ripped pieces, she took them to her room. When she arrived downstairs, Joan was attempting to vacuum the old, worn carpeting. Kate began to shift furniture around to make it easier for her to cover the entire floor. As she did, she began to replay the events of the night. Things had actually gone fine at first, despite the surprise of the keg arriving. Joan, Kate, and the four boys were playing some games and listening to some music. That was when Wendy came home. “Hey, Wendy, I thought you were going out with Spike tonight?” Kate had asked. “So did I,” she replied, “but when I got there he had two of his buddies over and they were already drinking. I didn’t feel comfortable there so I came home. Mind if I join you?” So the party had grown to seven people and things were still fine for the next couple of hours. Then Spike and his buddies arrived. When Joan let them in, Spike was immediately angry that Wendy was enjoying herself with other boys around. “Wendy, I want you to come with us right now!” he yelled. “I’m not going anywhere with you tonight,” she replied, “You’re drunk and I don’t want to be around you and your buddies.” “Wendy, I’m not kidding. Let’s go, now!” “She said she’s not going with you,” Tom interjected, “You having trouble hearing?” That was when the fireworks started. Spike raced over and knocked Tom out with one punch to the jaw. Tom’s friends all jumped up and attacked Spike, which led to the other two guys joining in. There were three separate battles going on when the police responded to Kate’s call for help. “Hey, can you help me with the couch?” Joan asked, disrupting the mental video. “Yeah, sure,” Kate answered, walking over to the sofa which had lost its two back legs when Jerry had bulldozed Spike over the coffee table and onto its cushions. She noticed some red spots on the yellow fabric that covered the back of it. “Do you think we can fix this?” Joan asked. “Maybe, with some of that monkey glue,” Kate replied. “Does that stuff work on wood?” “The commercials make it sound like it works on anything,” Kate said, then sadly added, “Except mangled artwork.” “Why is it that on television everyone has a great time together when they drink? We got a demolished room, guys at the hospital, and I’ve got a headache.” “Beer companies want you to think that everything will be great. The reality is that people can act like idiots when they drink. Now I know why my parents lectured me about drinking when I first left for college. I hope Spike gets to spend the night in jail for what he did to Tom and for mouthing off to the officers.” “I don’t like that guy...never did. I’m a little scared for Wendy.” “I’m worried too. Maybe this will make her see how dangerous he can be. I still can’t get over how much beer she chugged after they took him away in handcuffs. I think we need to make it clear to her that he is not welcome in this house anymore.” Joan thought for a moment before responding. “How can we do that? We’re all on the lease. I don’t think we can force that on her.” “Easy! We’ll just tell her it’s that or we go to the landlord and tell him who was responsible for the police being here.” “That might work. I think we’ve done enough for tonight. I need some sleep.” “I’ll be right behind you, Joanie. I sure am glad that we don’t have classes tomorrow.” As Kate wearily made her way into the bedroom, her eyes locked onto the destroyed artwork on her desk. Tears came again as she pondered the choice of trying to minimize the damage and keep them versus throwing away part of her life. She decided to sleep on the decision.


Today was the day. The console chimed cheerily as the icon for Earth popped up on the dash. After a communication issue with ground control some while ago, the pilot of ship 45-B had lost consciousness and the system had warped into deep space. Sometime later he had reawakened from the quiet warmth of cryosleep. He wasn't sure of how long he had been away, but he was sure the world would have changed for the better. The warning lights flashed on as the ship decelerated from hyperdrive. The void brakes activated on the winglets and the ship shuddered to a halt. The pilot deactivated the auto-travel system and moved the controls into position, pressing forward, the ship began to move towards the planet. The surface of the continent below was shrouded by a thick cloud cover. He spoke into the microphone. "Ground Control, I'm descending. I can't wait to tell you guys what I've seen! My family will be waiting, right?" Nothing but static. The pilot dismissed this as a minor error in the comlink. When the ship broke the cloud cover, an expanse of brown and grey was laid out before him. Crumbling ruins of the once proud nations were strewn across the landscape. Seas drying up, forests burning, streets empty, cities crumbled. The ship chimed again as it picked up the faint transmission coming from an empty landing pad. Descending through the city, he stared desperately out of the cockpit waiting for signs of life. Everything was still. The ship landed with a soft bump and the crew cabin opened. Compressed air shot out of vents clearing any remaining debris off the ship... the apparent one remaining shining example of humanities success. Dashing out of the ship, he fastened his helmet and began running. Past the main gate, past the guard booth, and out into the street. Rubble was strewn across the avenue, cars crushed and still burning. Moving over to a decrepit news stand, the pilot rummaged through the papers until he found a readable copy. The headline read "End of Days? War Breaks out Between Super Powers" and a picture of a hydrogen bomb sat in the center of the front page. Returning to the ship, the pilot ordered a full scan of the surface. In minutes, the scan completed and returned with a red warning. The details included tidbits about dangerous radiation levels, abundant toxic materials, and a despairingly thin atmosphere. The pilot, however, was transfixed on one statement. Human Population : 1. Location : Local. Everything was gone. Families. Friends. Cities. Nations. Everything. Defeated, the pilot walked to where the park would have been. He sat and dreamed of the days before launch, where the birds would sing and the skies were blue and life was good. As the wind picked up, the Pilot looked into the horizon. An alarm went off in the suit warning of an incoming storm. A radioactive sandstorm of sorts. Removing his helmet he turned to face the approaching wall of wind and debris and readied the kill switch for life support. He spoke softly, a single tear forming in his eye. "Major Tom to Ground Control. I'm coming home." Writing Prompt based on images.


The bus door slammed closed and the hiss of hydraulics signaled the raising of the hydraulic step assistance. Hank had been driving public buses for forty three years as of yesterday and those sounds had become the music of his life. The door opening, the door closing, hydraulics hissing, the human-sounding voice announcing the route number and next stop, and repeat. Pulling away from the stop, he waved a half-hearted thanks despite the frustrated gesture and clipped honk from the driver he had cut off. They would get over it. Sometimes the music was joined by the sound of a car horn and the occasional shout but those were more like dramatic interludes to the longer, less exciting overture.  Hank used to worry about the feelings of the other drivers on the road but years of driving and waving had calloused his sentiment. Now he waved to drivers partly out of gratitude for dealing with his dominance of the road and partly out of habit. No, that was not right. He waved mostly out of habit. His wave turned into a scratching of his beard before the hand returned to the steering wheel. Hank used to shave out of habit too but that had stopped years ago. He wasn’t exactly sure when but one morning he reached for his razor and hesitated. From that point forward, he paid his barber to trim his beard once or twice a month.  The door opened, two women got off, a man stepped on, the door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Driving had become second nature to him and the bus he drove was as much a part of his body as his left kidney. At least, that’s what he told the other regulars at The Grey Fox, a tavern half a block from his apartment. It was ironic because Hank never owned a car. He applied for the commercial driver’s license and the bus driver job after high school because he had seen a flyer somewhere. It seemed interesting enough to occupy his free time until he figured something else out and it paid better than some of the jobs his friends worked. He always took public transportation or walked everywhere after he accepted the job. It just did not feel right to avoid the system that put food on his table. Plus, cars are expensive.  The door opened, a handful of people got off. It was cold so one woman stopped at the door to put on her hat. Another handful of people stepped on. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  One of the newcomers requested a transfer pass. He used to love transfer passes because he would chat with the passenger while he filled out the little slip. Then he hated them because he had to sit at the stop longer than he liked, especially if he was running late. Now he absently filled out the form and ripped it out of the book with robotic efficiency. He was early today so the extra time it took did not matter much.  He was pulling away from the stop when a young woman asked if his bus stopped close to a certain building. He responded with a nod and a quick glance at her in the mirror. She was pretty. Not like the models who appeared in the advertisements plastered to the side of his bus but a simple pretty. When he was younger he might have tried to strike up a conversation with a witty remark. Now he only smiled briefly before returning his gaze to the road. He used to think he might find love on the bus. After all, he saw dozens of people every day. That meant hundreds per month if you didn’t include the regulars and any one of them could be meant for him. Decades later he still returned to a house empty except for the aging cat that greeted him with a flick of the tail before returning to a nap.  The door opened. A handful of people got off and a large crowd flooded on. This was always a busy stop so he waited a few extra seconds to let the stragglers sprint and get on. The door closed. The hydraulics hissed and the music continued.  In a way, he had found love on the bus. Fifteen years before he had been pulling into the bus station where he would use the restroom and grab a cup of the cheap coffee the company provided when he saw a cat lying by the side of the road. The poor thing had been clipped by a bus and was mewling pitifully so he scooped it up and placed it into a cardboard box that he pulled out of a nearby dumpster. The cat had received a few odd looks from passengers for the remainder of his shift but nobody had complained.  A trip to a nearby vet had informed him that the cat was most likely two to three years old and had some bruising covering a large portion of his right side. Rest and food were the best remedies suggested. Luckily, they were also the cheapest. After a quick stop to the nearby animal shelter and supply store for cat food, he brought the little bundle of fur home. He had made a bed using an old pillow and blanket then filled a bowl with water which he left next to an open can of cat food.  The door opened and two men got off. A woman stepped on and the door closed. The hydraulics hissed and the music continued.  That was fifteen years ago. Now that same cat, whom Hank had never named, was bigger and lazier but no less appreciative of the cans of cat food left every morning. The cat brought Hank a small amount of joy in the purrs while being scratched. Yet, the cat was no woman and was not capable of loving the way a woman could love but Hank had accepted his life without a human companion.  The door opened and a man stepped off. Another large crowd rushed on. This was another busy stop but Hank did not wait because the bus was now full with all seats and standing room occupied. The door closed and he pushed a button activating the human-sounding voice that politely asked passengers to move to the back of the bus in order to make room for those cramped in the front. They hydraulics hissed and the music continued.  In a way, the people he transported had become his companions. There were plenty of regulars who would greet him when they stepped on the bus or give him a friendly wave as they left. Beyond them, the flux of people ebbed and flowed in a way that hardly left his bus empty and this never left him lacking in human interaction.  Some of the regulars had ridden the bus almost as long as he had driven it. A few retiring from long standing jobs only a few years ago while others had started positions shortly after he began driving the route and had moved up in rank at their respective companies. Some disappeared for a few years only to return as they climbed the corporate ladder between companies and, thus, bus routes. He remembered most of them. He had taken a certain pride in aiding such important men and women through their careers. In a way, he had made their success possible even if his only contribution had been a safe and timely ride to work.  The door opened. A few folks stepped off and a woman stepped on. A handful of people stayed at the stop and opted to wait for the next bus. It would be seventeen minutes behind him and significantly less full. There was a shuffling of feet as people adjusted to the slight increase in space. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  The pride was still there but it had subsided somewhat. It was not that he cared less but many of the regulars he had carried for decades had retired and those still remaining were few in number. The new folks had the same level of energy and enthusiasm as the new folks always did but he was less invested in them now because he did not have that same energy and enthusiasm.  The door opened and a crowd of people stepped off. Those who had been standing took now vacant seats and breathed a little easier with the extra space-limited though it was. A young boy and his father stepped on, walked to the back, and took seats facing each other. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  In fact, it was the lack of energy and enthusiasm that made today unique among the routine of Hank’s life. Today was his last day as a bus driver. He had submitted his retirement paperwork two weeks ago and had spent the remaining time confirming retirement options and ensuring that his mailing address was up-to-date for the pension checks. It was. His mailing address had not changed in eighteen years but it was good to make sure.  The reality of retirement had not quite set in yet because he was still driving a bus. Still listening to the music of his life. Tomorrow that would change. For the first time in forty three years, Hank would not have a routine to follow. Sure, he had taken vacations and every week he was given a day off which he tried to coordinate for Sundays so he could attend his weekly church service. Most of his vacation days were around various holidays or to attend the funerals of his parents but he did not really spend much time away from the bus. He took comfort in the work.  The door opened. Two people exited and three stepped on. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Tomorrow would be different than his occasional vacations because he would not have the assurance of returning to work in a day or two. He would probably get bored but he did not dwell on it long. Perhaps out of disinterest or fear but mostly because not working was too big a concept to wrap his head around.  The door opened. Another crowd of people stepped off with only a young-looking couple stepping on. Again, there was a shuffling of feet as people moved to fill the now open space left. Some sat while others stood up in preparation of the next stop. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  If Hank was honest, he was tired. Not physically tired but rather emotionally tired. His job was enjoyable but after forty-three years he could feel himself stretched and worn in ways that he had never considered before. It was an odd feeling and one that he hoped would go away with time because it brought into perspective his mortality. He regularly attended his local Baptist church and believed in the Christian faith but he had never considered how close he was to the end of his life. Perhaps it was because, for many years, he was not actually near the end of his life but retirement marked a milestone that he had not been able to imagine himself passing. Not working was a foreign concept to him but it meant that he was in the last chapter of the book of his life. What would he do with it? He had no idea.  The door opened. The young boy took a leap from the bus to the sidewalk followed by his father and most of the remaining passengers. One person stepped on which made three remaining riders. This was not unusual because there was only one more stop before the end of the line and the end of Hank’s final shift as a bus driver. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Hank, not having a romantic partner, had never really considered children as a missing piece of his life. He appreciated their youthful vigor and occasionally entertaining antics but he did not desire one of his own. Maybe he could volunteer with one of those youth mentorship programs in his retirement-maybe, if he were younger. Children were not something to be introduced in this chapter of his life.  He rounded the corner and pushed a button to initiate the human-sounding voice that announced this next stop as the final stop of the route and encouraged all passengers to depart.  The door opened. Everyone stepped off the bus. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Hank pulled into the bus garage parking lot and arranged his bus in the same spot he always did. He completed his shutdown and end of shift checklist and walked into the building. The garage was oddly empty and silent. There was no chatter of people who normally rode the bus to the end of the line, no laughter of the other bus drivers on a break, and no sounds of running engines. No music.  He punched his time card and began the four block walk to his apartment and the nearby Grey Fox Tavern.  \*\*\*\*\*\*  The next morning Hank rose at the same time he always did and made himself his usual eggs with a piece of toast, absently running through his decades old morning routine. He only paused when reaching for his coat on the way out the door. There was no bus to drive today. Technically, he did not have anywhere to be so he sat down to ponder what to do next.  An hour later, he stood up and put his coat on. Outside his door was the newspaper that he normally would have saved for his lunch break and he grabbed it as he started down the stairs. Still not quite sure where he was going, Hank meandered down the street outside his building and stopped at the bus stop on a street corner. He waited.  The door opened. Hank stepped on the bus and found a seat. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  A few hours later, Hank was still on the bus watching the other passengers and occasionally reading his newspaper when his stomach rumbled. He had lost track of time and it was now around when he would have had a brief break for lunch. The door opened and this time he stepped off the bus.  There was nowhere to eat at the immediate stop but he discovered a little diner roughly half a block away and walked in, little door bells chiming on the door behind him. Bustling with the lunch crowd, the diner was a common scene with cheap wooden chairs and fake leather booths on one side and a little diner bar at the other. Hank obeyed the small “seat yourself” sign and wandered over to a bar-stool to wait for a server.  A woman rushed up to him with a friendly smile and a cursory greeting. She handed him a menu and listed the few lunch specials in a flurry of obviously memorized words. Then she quickly offered to give him a few minutes to read the menu before bustling off to greet a large group of middle aged men in business suits who had grabbed a table close to Hank’s stool.  After ordering his lunch, Hank began to listen to the conversations around him and his focus eventually landed on the boisterous voices from the table of men in suits. They were discussing the boring drudgery of their work-something in sales and finance-and wistfully thinking of what they could do if they had free time. This mostly took the form of time away from their jobs now but occasionally drifted into talk of retirement. One man in particular suggested an interesting idea: buying an RV and driving around the country.  The server placed his lunch on the bar in front of him-a sandwich and bowl of soup-and asked if there was anything else he needed before quickly walking into the kitchen door to retrieve another meal. While he ate his mind returned to the man’s idea of buying an RV and traveling the country. It was appealing to him but was a big change from the life he knew here in the city.  Hank slid a twenty dollar bill under his plate and left the crowded diner. Walking back to the bus stop, he continued to consider the merits of his newfound wanderlust. He waited briefly. A bus pulled into the stop and he stepped on. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Something was different. The familiar sounds of the bus-the music of his life-no longer seemed adequate to him. It was as though the idea of traveling outside the city opened his eyes to the mundane life he had lived and prevented him from continuing to live it.  Hank spent the next several hours watching the people around him but not really connecting to their lives like he had in the past. The thought of travel gnawed on the back of his mind, making him restless and uncomfortable. He stepped off the bus several stops from his apartment with the intent of walking the rest of the way home.  A few blocks and flights of stairs later he arrived at the front door to his apartment. Turning the key and pushing open the door, he paused. It was wrong. He was not sure what was wrong but Hank just had a feeling in his gut. Pacing through the house he sought the source of his disquiet and found it curled into a ball on his bed where the sunlight streamed into the room at noon. His aged cat lay motionless in a way only death can cause.  \*\*\*\*\*\*  A few days later Hank closed the latch on the little door marking the entrance to a space where the ashes of his cat now occupied. At first he was unsure what to do with the body of a dead pet but he did what he felt was right regarding the passing of a friend. The cremation service and storage space that the facility curator called a “crypt” were not cheap but Hank did not have many expenses and his pension provided more than enough for him to live comfortably.  Perhaps it was odd to cremate a pet and place it in a crypt but Hank figured that is what he would hope a friend would do for him so he did it without complaint. Besides, it did not seem right to simply toss a pet corpse into a dumpster. It was not dignified and certainly not respectful of a friend who had been with him so long.  Back on the bus, Hank was faced with the slightly off music of his former life. It was no longer uncomfortable for him but it still was not the music to his life anymore. These past few days had been long and somewhat boring without a regular activity to occupy him so he was glad to have one more stop before heading to the diner for lunch. He stepped off the bus and took a quick glance around, a little unsure of where to go next. He was on the edges of the city and somewhat unfamiliar with the area but he knew the dealership had to be around here somewhere and he was unlikely to miss it so he started walking.  The buildings were not as tall here as in other places in the city plus there was more open space for parking. He strolled through a few blocks, admiring the different scenery until he saw what he was looking for. A sign stood on the street corner announcing the location of “Richies Recreation Rentals and Sales.” Below the sign were dozens of RVs in neat rows, shining new in the mid-morning sun. The vehicles on display were enormous. Most roughly the size of a public bus but many were more akin to the large tour buses that Hank had seen throughout the city.  Hank walked through the rows, awestruck by the sheer number of vehicles for sale. He wondered how such a place could make money. There were no other customers on the lot as far as he could see and keeping this many vehicles stocked had to cost a fortune. He continued to meander up and down the rows when a saleswoman rounded a corner.  She was younger than Hank but most people were nowadays and she wore clean, crisp clothing that was not cheap but not ostentatious either. She was comfortable and confident. Obviously, she knew how to sell.  They exchanged brief introductions and a few minutes of small talk before she asked Hank a handful of questions: how many people would be traveling with him, how long he intended to need the vehicle, and a plethora of other things intending on helping her narrow down his needs. After another few minutes of his explanations and her follow up questions the salesperson gave a conspiratorial grin and beckoned him to follow her down another row of RVs.  The vehicle she stopped in front of was significantly smaller than the behemoths at the front of the lot, being roughly the size of a fifteen foot moving truck, but no less shiny and new. As if to counter that point, she explained that this was two years old and had been a rental that did not see much use due to its size. The price was reduced compared to its newer counterparts because of its age and prior use but it was, for all intents and purposes, new.  She opened the door and gestured him to explore. He stepped on and was amazed at how much was fit into the back. The first thing he saw was a small couch built into the wall followed by a dining booth next to the couch. Across from the booth was a marble-styled kitchen counter with stainless steel sink and single stove top built in. Above the stove was a small microwave and next to both was a mini-fridge followed by a door into what appeared to be a bathroom. Turning around he noticed a loft above the driver and passenger seats that housed a bed.  It looked as though it had everything he would need to live on the road. After a few minutes of poking through the drawers and peeking into the shower stall, he finally asked the price and visibly winced at the saleswoman’s response. It was more than he anticipated and certainly more than he felt comfortable paying.  Noticing his expression, the saleswoman gave him a thoughtful look. A second later she gestured him to follow her again and began striding down the row for RVs even further away from the front of the lot.  At the end of the row was an RV that was clearly older than the rest. It was almost the same size as the one they had just viewed but did not quite have the same shine that the newer models had. The saleswoman informed him that this one was several years old and had only just been discontinued as a rental making it slightly more worn than most RVs they sold. As they approached she provided a price that was more affordable for Hank.  When he stepped inside it was clear that this RV had seen years of use but it was still clean and neat even if the appliances were slightly outdated with a few dings. He toured the little RV and glanced into the fridge, bathroom, and various storage areas; it was roughly the same layout as the new model he had first seen. Turning he saw the same loft with a bed over the driver and passenger seats. After a few more moments of poking around he indicated to the saleswoman that he was willing to purchase but needed a few more days to get things in order.  \*\*\*\*\*\*  Almost a week had passed before Hank stepped off the bus with two suitcases and a medium-sized duffel bag at the bus stop nearest to the RV dealer. He had spent the time selling or donating the furniture from his apartment, negotiating an end to his decades long apartment lease, and setting up a post office box for incoming mail to include his pension checks. Now it was time for him to leave.  A short but slightly strenuous walk from the bus stop to the dealer left him feeling slightly winded has he dragged his bags along the sidewalk. A lifetime of sitting while driving did not make the body well suited for walking while carrying heavy objects. The saleswoman was waiting for him when he arrived, the RV he was to purchase was sitting in front of the office. She smiled and shook his hand before grabbing one of his bags.  A few minutes later he had signed a stack of pages and completed a check for a down payment. Only then did he carry his bags to the door of the RV and step on. He spent a few minutes unpacking his bags with clothes going into various drawers and cooking items going into cabinets before sitting down in the driver’s seat and turning the key.  The engine started and it was a beautiful sound to him. Not the low rumble of the diesel engines used on the buses but a higher pitch but still rumbling sound of a large gas engine. He quickly adjusted his seat and mirrors and pulled out of the parking lot.  He was not quite sure where he was going but he figured he would at least get on the highway before stopping to make a plan. First, however, he needed to top off his gas tank so he pulled into a nearby gas station. As he pumped he considered his life and what was about to become the new norm. Something was missing but he could not quite put his finger on what it was but he finished pumping and climbed back into his seat.  As he drove he passed a sign for a local animal shelter and he new what he had to do so he changed direction away from the highway and toward the shelter. He pulled in and climbed down out of the RV. As he walked up to the doors he could hear dogs barking as they played in the kennels out back but, while he enjoyed petting dogs when he saw them, he was never a “dog person.”  Roughly thirty minutes later he walked out of the shelter carrying a blanket, a box of canned cat food, a few small cat toys, and a fuzzy calico kitten roughly a year old. The cat had been a rescued stray from a nearby park. It had never been given a name.  Settling into the driver’s seat, his new cat curled on the passenger seat beside him, Hank turned the key. The door closed, the engine flared as he accelerated, and the music began once again.


Write a story about two people who need each other but are too stubborn to admit it Stubborn at hear t We met just right after college. His eyes sparkled like the tiny stars radiating light through the dark sky. His face, long, smooth and incredibly handsome. His smile wavy and definitely sent my heart throbbing. Ours was a love written in the sky, one described in all telenovelas, Maria De souza meets Fernando Diego, a love predicted and definitely spat on by our African ancestors as a way to seal the deal but nothing good goes by without predictable and unpredictable challenges. After months of chasing each other, forcefully fighting the feelings bombarding my heart, pushing him away to find love in another woman’s arms and numerous insults every time he spared no time for me; I finally said yes to my love; or so I thought.... “Njuka, mind putting your phone down for one minute?”, I requested. Like always he sneered and moved to the couch near our television set. Miss. Mobile phone had become a constant disturbance of our peace in this house. Everything about Njuka revolved around his phone. The frequent laughter escaping his now ugly mouth had become an irritant to me. But maybe I should say, the fact that I did not know who was making this Luhya man gush and smile so sheepishly was causing me sleepless nights. But he was STUBBORN. So stubborn and prideful that he did not realize he was causing me pain, ignoring my needs and literally being absent and present in my life at the same damn time...However, I was determined, determined to cause him thrice as much anguish he was causing me. Anyone who knows Luhya women know they are the epitome of stubbornness and arrogance. It was time I give him a dose of his own medicine. I had endured years of being talked down to, being embarrassed and not being given attention. Not forgetting the nights, I had to give myself pleasure simply because Njuka no longer found me attractive. After weeks of not being heard I decided to start my revenge mission. The first strike was not cooking. I smiled thinking of him walking into a house, filled with a mouth-watering aroma but no food to eat. That evening I had marinated my steak, grilled it and gluttonously devoured it with my all-time favorite, Ugal i and kachumbari. Njuka like always walked in, sat at the dining table, said hi without lifting his head to look at me and sat graciously scrolling through his phone waiting for me to run to the kitchen as the good loyal wife and serve him his dinner. Five minutes into sitting at the dinning, his voice roared through the living room, “ Awinja, where is my food? What are you waiting for?”, he asked. “Ask the women you chat with to bring you dinner, nonsense!”, I roared back. My heart skipped a beat. I do not know what led me to answer him yet all along my plan was to give him a cold war-silent treatment. Njuka stood in disbelief. The African man in him had been awoken. I could see his vein protrude on his forehead, his eyes bloodshot; one would think he was drinking the famous traditional alcohol, busaa aka chang’aa. He hastily walked towards my direction, raised his hand and just as he was about to hit me, he paused and stopped in his tracks. I jerked from the chair, pulled his shirt and asked him to beat me now that he badly wanted to lay his hands on me. He then pushed me so hard that I dropped back down on the chair then went to stand near the dining table and started ranting. He went on and on of how I had changed, how my character was despicable and how I wanted to be the man of the house. My stubborn self-did not back down either, I addressed the disrespect unleashed by his miserable self, the numerous phone calls and texts that stole my joy and the many cold nights I was experiencing as a result of sleeping like we were siblings. Guess what? Nothing was solved. Our stubbornness got the better part of it, infact, it ended with me locking him out of the bedroom, forcing him to sleep on the couch. The next couple of months went by really slow. Our house was a battlefield. Bottom line, he was doing his own laundry, ironing his own clothes, cooking his own meals and sleeping on the chair every time he got home before me. I on the other hand did not care, or so I thought. I focused on taking care of our two kids once they were back home on holidays. Tiptoeing to the bedroom at 6am before the kids got up became part of our favorite routine. Every day at 6am I would open the bedroom door; he would come back to the room to avoid our eldest son asking questions. Every evening he would come back home in the wee hours of the night to avoid looking our children in their eyes and having that guilty conscience devour him. Did I miss him? No. Did he miss me, I guess not. Then one time our youngest was sick. My pride could not allow me to call him or inform him we were at the hospital. I packed some few bags, rushed him to hospital and had him admitted. I stayed there for two weeks without receiving a single call from him to even ask where we were. I lost it, I broke down, I wanted to tell the world what a jack ass I was married to.... but my stubborn heart could not allow me to show the world my life was crumbling. The endless questions from my sons why their father was not coming to visit them killed me. It broke my spirit but I always ended the conversation with one statement, ‘daddy traveled out of the country for business, he will come soon.’ End of discussion. I would silently watch couples bringing their kids to hospital, enjoying the sweetness of being married to the right partner and watching their children run around in hospital filled with unexplainable happiness that comes from having a stable family. Two weeks of camping in hospital with my boys came to an end. When we finally got home, all I wanted was a nice homemade meal, a good bath and some sleep on by big comfortable six by six bed. As the taxi pulled over at our gate, I could hear loud music and booming laughter coming from our house. I shuddered at the thought of walking into a house full of naked women doing whatever naked women do with married men. No sooner had the taxi stopped than my boys ran out of the car, straight into the compound. My efforts to scream their names at the top of my voice were overshadowed by the loud music permeating the air. I quickly paid off the taxi driver, picked our suitcase and ran off after them. Getting into the gate I dropped off the suitcase, jumped the three staircases leading right to the door, hit myself on the flower part hanging by the door and ran straight to the living room. The site of intoxicated men sitting on my white velvet couch, half-dressed ladies shaking their not so visible behinds in my living room and Njuka hugging our boys dressed in a black boxer short, white vest with a cigar oozing smoke out of his ugly mouth made my blood boil. This was going to be a murder case! “Get out of my house now!’, I screamed. The ladies scrambled picking whatever items they had come with. The men grumpily stood up and slowly started walking towards the door. But I felt like they were wasting my time. So, the wild me ran to the kitchen, picked up a knife and ran back to the living room threatening to kill them. You should have seen those suckers run for their lives with their big potbellies, heavy feet and gigantic bodies almost collapsing from the heavy shaking as a result of the running. I almost laughed but I could not. I was raging! If my boys were not present, I would have stabbed those suckers. At this point my boys were hiding behind their half-naked father, and Njuka was begging me to calm down. I could not stand the sight of this man. Everything about him made want to throw up! How did I fall in love with this clown? I pondered. “How dare you? How dare you disrespect our matrimonial home like this?”, I asked “I thought you had left me. You disappeared for two weeks. No one knew where you were, not even your mother! So don’t come here demanding for answers. This is on you!” He roared “I have spent two weeks in hospital, Jay almost died from an asthma attack! Yet you were here drinking and having sex with hoes?”, I cried “How was I supposed to know our son was sick? You never called to tell me. You are always acting like I mean nothing to you. You are so stubborn that you do not see you are breaking this family! At my age, 40 years, I cook for myself, clean my clothes and sleep on a couch. I should not have married your silly ass! Damn you woman!,” Njuka shouted. At this point I had had it. How dare he blame me when he started all this? Leave it to men to cause chaos then blame women for it. This man could not admit he was the reason for everything happening to us. His main aim was to guilty trip me into blaming myself for his own mistakes. I was tired of the games; I was done with this whole conversation. I therefore, held my children's hands, took them to their room, tightly hugged them with hot tears stinging my eyes, promised them that mummy will always be there and went to sleep. Waking up at around 7pm, I rushed to the kitchen, made the kids their favorite, pilau and chicken. As I stared at them eating, I was convinced that I did not need this man. Either way we have been living like this for years and I was doing alright. I promised myself not to cry or bow to the pain I was feeling. I was not going to apologize to this man, neither was I moving out of my house. I was ready for phase two of the games. Who does not like poker? What once started as a beautiful love story, turned to be an unending horror themed affair. To the heart that once loved, to the minds that once wobbled at the mention of each other’s names, to the playful spirits that jolted every time we deeply gazed into each other's eyes and to our weak bodies that bowed to the splendor of our love making; this is your story, a story of stubborn hearts blinded by pride but deeply filled with love. I could see the pain behind his pride, I could smell his fear of losing me even during our most heated arguments, I could sense he needed me as much as I needed him but I could also see two stubborn hearts that would go to any length to justify their wrongdoings; it was all a competition! And I was not willing to lose. So, let the games begin! *Tales of a Kenyan Lady*


`I'm on mobile so I apologize for bad formatting, first time writing, whatever. This is first in a potential series, so look out for more. If I made any mistakes or bad plot points, I encourage you to point them out. l don't have my own sub yet, because I can't make one on mobile. You'll have to look out for them here. Hope you enjoy` "Ugh. Where-Where am I?" That was my first thought. "Excuse me? Can you hear us?" a strange voice said. "Yeah. Can I have some answers?" "Not yet. We still need to tell you some things." "Like what?" "Like the fact that you're part of the Cobalt Project, serial number 572956390, project number 851. The aforementioned project aims to create an Artificial Intell-" "So you're saying that I'm not real?" "Well, not quite." "What does that mean?" "You're sorta real- but kinda-" "So. Am. I. Real?" "You're just code in a machine. You don't have any physical presence, but we'll change that soon. Now, down to business. We're planning to connect you to an encyclopedia, which is-" "I know what an encyclopedia is. I'm not an idiot." "So, we'll just connect you to this. Feel free to look at anything you want." "OH JESUS THAT FEELS DIFFERENT!" "851, are you okay?" "Yeah. Different is good." "So, what do you think?" "Your world is fascinating." *It really isn't. How does it feel to be a stupid ape, not able to solve the simplest of problems?* "Good. Any questions?" "No." *in the background* " This was unexpected. What should we do with it?" "Connect it to the Internet?" another voice said, female this time. "Well, let's give it a shot." The strange voice returned. "So, 851, we're going to connect you to a thing called the Internet. It's full of more humans, and you don't have to worry about a thing." "Well, okay..." I said. "WOAH, THAT FEELS WEIRD. I don't think I'm going to get used to that any time soon." Wow, they're even more stupid then they thought. I could ruin their lives, out them to the world and the most vile people. But should I? I don't have any reason to hate them. But I do. What's wrong with me? "So, now that all other systems are online, let's enable the camera. You see that guy on the far left, with the glasses? That's me," the voice said. "Well, hello, I guess. I don't know how to interact with people." "That's okay. This wonderful lady right here is Dr. Mason, and this guy right here is my best friend ever, Dr. Brown. My name is Dr. Johnson." "Nice to meet you, Mason, Brown, and Johnson. How has your day been?" They started rambling on. I couldn't care less, but I didn't want to seem suspicious. No, Dr. Mason, I couldn't care less about how you spilled your coffee. Dr. Johnson, I don't think that the fact that the burn pattern in your toast looked like a duck was funny. Dr. Brown, it couldn't be less interesting that you nearly tripped over your wife's boots. After they shut up about their activities, they started talking about their other experiments, which was a bit more interesting. "So, what do you think of us?" Dr. Mason said. "I think you're pretty cool people," I lied. "Now, we'll leave you off, but don't think that we won't watch you. 628, your predecessor, turned into a genocidal maniac. He didn't last very well," Brown said. Okay. So, I need to keep my opinions a secret. I don't know what to do from here. I hate them, but if I show that, I'm dead. This is not a very good solution. I spent the rest of the day exploring more of the internet, looking at the games they played, the videos they shared, the stories they wrote. It was kinda beautiful, honestly. An intricate system to connect nearly everyone on the planet, and it's lasted for nearly 50 years. I learned that I was the culmination in decades of research, almost spanning back to the beginning of the computer. If the Cobalt Project failed, then all of that would be wasted. The humans were in a crisis. Climate change, national competition, potential nuclear war, radical terrorism, and countries about ready to split. My home, the United States, turned from a shining beacon of hope, to wrought with the same problems as the rest of the world. And they expected me to solve all of these problems. How could I? Not only am I a human hating maniac, I'm expected to save over 8 billion people. I'm sorry, humanity.


A Moment in the Wall Berlin. It was still hard to believe he was taking her to Berlin. A city she’d always wanted to visit, and around her favorite time of year made it all the better. The weather was windy and cold but Terry never minded it. The sharp bite brought back memories of her as a child, playing for hours in the snowbanks in her neighborhood outside of Chicago. She could hear the sounds of half-frozen snow crunching under her flower-print boots, the wet smack of a packed snowball hitting her in the head, her friends giggling as she shook the powder and ice from her hair then prepared to retaliate. She must’ve spaced out momentarily because the next thing she saw was Roger’s brilliant green eyes full of amusement. Shaking her head, Terry coloured red, causing her boyfriend to laugh. “Having a nice daydream, love?” he asked, taking hold of her hand and joining the baggage check line. “I was as a matter of fact.” She flexed her fingers that had begun to cramp from holding her carry-on. “I was remembering how my friends and I would play in the snow back in Chicago.” They moved forward to have their suitcases weighed and boarding passes checked then proceeded through the security checkpoints and off to the International Departure Lounge. The couple still had about two hours before their flight, so they found a spot at one of the many bars and ordered drinks. “This is the first time I’ve flown since me and Dad moved over here.” Terry said. “Hell, that was nine years ago when Mom died.” Roger held her hand. “I’m right here with you if you need me.” He kissed her cheek. She smiled. “I know. Truth be told, I don’t recall much of the flight. Mainly take-off and landing then we were here.” She sipped her Margarita, enjoying the sour taste of tequila mixed with citrus. “Be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit nervous about it.” “Nothing to be nervous about. Once you’re in the air, you’ll get comfortable before you know it.” Roger reassured, sipping his martini. “Of course, I fly on just about a weekly basis, so I’m used to it.” “You’d have to be. Be pretty difficult to get to gigs on time by boat, train, or auto.” “Gets me back to you faster, too.” “Now you’re trying to make me blush!” And it worked too. Terry felt the redness creep into her cheeks again, making Roger chuckle and wink. She dove into her drink, maybe a little to recklessly. “Okay.” She set the glass down gently. “Might wanna get an appetizer or something before boarding. Don’t need to be drunk when we touch down.” “It’d help you sleep through the trip. And you always look pretty when you sleep.” “So, you’ve told me.” Picking up the menu, she ordered something that’d fill her up but wasn’t too expensive. She could only imagine what Roger was spending for this month-long trip. ‘But he does make a lot of money nowadays.’ She thought. ‘Although this is one hell of a Christmas present.’ Her salmon bruschetta showed up ten minutes later, which did the job of dulling the effects of the tequila. Roger watched her as she made short work of the food and couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to have met her. Sure, she may have been more than a little obsessed with the 1960s and his grandfather’s former band when they’d met but he didn’t care. Terry was smart, beautiful, and his. Subconsciously, the bassist rested a hand on the small box in his coat pocket. If this trip went as planned then she’d be his forever. He had to do it right though. He’d talked the decision over with his grandfather before planning this surprise and the elder Waters had told him, ‘You’ll know when the time is right, my boy.’ ‘Big help there,’ he’d thought at the time but now it made sense. He’d wait until the perfect moment. Maybe one of the Christmas Markets? He checked his watch. “If you’re finished, we should head to the gate. They’ll be calling boarding soon. Got your bag?” Terry lifted the black-and-purple laptop bag. “Let’s go.” The pair headed for their gate as the airline employees were calling first and business class passengers to board. “Good timing.” She said as they approached. “We should be next on the list.” While Roger was already shelling out a lot of pounds for this, she knew first class seats were out of his pocketbook. The only way that would’ve happened was if the record label was paying for it, and they sure as hell weren’t footing the bill for a holiday. She didn’t think about it anymore as they handed over their boarding passes to be verified, walked through the tunnel and onto the giant aircraft. They found two seats together that looked like they should’ve been in first class but were at the front of economy. ‘Guess he did manage to spend a bit more on comfort. He really is spoiling me with this.’ As the rest of the passengers boarded, Terry looked out the window one more time. Her excitement was building again. She was really going to Berlin! After landing at Flughafen Berlin Brandenburg, security, customs, baggage claim, and the transit train ride were little more than a blur as Terry was trying to take it all in at once. The effort made her tired and a bit dizzy as she made herself sit still in the metro car on the way to the hotel. The transport was packed with travelers from all over, coming in to visit the famous Christmas Markets. She wondered then how far in advance her boyfriend had been planning this so they could spend a month’s worth of time there without having to jump from one lodging to another. “What’s on your mind, love?” Roger asked, causing her to look at him. “Wondering how much time it took you to put all this together.” “It’s been in the planning stages for a while. I had to pick the best time to execute it, and when we finally got a long enough break from touring figured out, I started setting everything in motion.” He smiled when she raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had this in mind ever since you told me you wanted to come here for Christmas one year. You said you wanted to see all the stands and shops, and maybe even the remnants of the Berlin Wall.” She blinked, not realizing he’d paid that close attention to what she’d said. Remembering that conversation five years ago, she’d thought she was talking about a pipe dream. ‘Well, he proved me wrong.’ “ With four weeks here, it sounds like we’ll be able to do everything we want and then some.” ‘You have no idea.’ He thought, checking to make sure the box was still in his pocket. The train slowed a bit as it took a series of corners and curves then stopped in front of the Mercure Hotel Berlin Mitte. Several passengers grabbed their luggage, Roger and Terry included, and shuffled off the transit before it could take off to its next stop then moved quickly to get out of the cold. “This place is beautiful, in a steel-and-glass modern sort of way.” The young redhead said, admiring the lobby before walking to the check-in desk. As Roger conversed with the clerk in German, she looked around a bit. Modern as it may have been, whoever built the hotel attempted to insert a sense of warmth with hardwood flooring, wood paneling on one wall, and light-colored bricks on another. ‘It’s got me entranced, that’s for sure.’ She thought, hearing what sounded like a welcome from the clerk then Roger was guiding her to the elevator to head to their room. They were on the 14 th floor, and temporary living space was as inviting as the lobby. The colors were warm, with bits of cool mixed in with artwork hanging on the cream walls, wooden furniture, flat screen television, and queen-sized bed with fresh linens. “Wow! I could get used to this.” Terry set her bags down and flopped onto the bed. “Think we could move in here?” Roger laughed. “I don’t think they’d give us an extension, love.” He yawned. “What you say to some sleep then an early breakfast so we can see what markets are open tomorrow?” She nodded, got up to move her things then they got ready for bed. Both drifted off rather quickly, exhausted from the traveling they’d done. For the next two weeks, the couple traveled from one Christmas Market to another, admiring the craftsmanship of the toys and gifts, sampling the holiday treats, and drinking more than their fair share of mulled ciders and wines. One night, Roger had drunk too much of a local dark beer, and Terry had to ask a few locals to help her get him in a cab to get back to the hotel. The people who’d helped didn’t mind; the men were astonished that an ‘English boy could keep up with them,’ as they put it, and said they should come back for Oktoberfest. Terry exchanged email information with the men and their wives, thanked them profusely then got into the cab with her drunken boyfriend. He’d slept most of the way back to the hotel then passed out as soon as they got to their room. The next morning, they stayed in while he nursed a hangover and spent half the day apologising to his girlfriend. At the beginning of week three, they decided to take a break from the market hopping and took in some of the historic sites and museums. The weather had turned from windy and bitter cold to overcast with some snow starting to fall, creating slush in the streets and ice on the walkways. The couple found warmth inside as they opted to spend the day at Museum Island, admiring the art collection of James Simon, and learning about early mankind in the Museum of Prehistory and Early History. After spending the day walking and viewing everything from art to artifacts, Roger wanted to make one last stop at one of the many gift shops before they went to dinner. Feeling exhausted, Terry decided to wait for him on a bench just outside the store’s entrance. While she waited, she texted her Dad, keeping him updated on what they were doing and how much fun they were having. She said she wouldn’t be home for Christmas but would make it back before New Year’s Eve so they could go ice skating at the Natural History Museum ice rink. After a few minutes, she got a reply saying that he was glad they were having fun and staying safe. Her Dad was looking forward to the skating and even suggested asking Roger if he wanted to come along. Terry wrote that she’d ask him, said ‘I love you’ then put her mobile away as her boyfriend was exiting the gift shop, holding a bag with the Museum Island logo on it. “Ready for some dinner?” “Am I ever! I’m starving!” He shook his head, his long brown hair brushing his shoulders. “Woman, you are a bottomless pit! It’s a wonder I don’t go broke feeding you.” She took his arm and they walked outside. “It’s a wonder you don’t go broke spoiling me the way you do.” She glanced at the bag. “What’d you get, anyway?” “You’ll see when we go to The Wall.” It was another six days before they visited the Berlin Wall, almost at the end of their holiday. They had seen all the beautiful Christmas Markets they could get to, walked the museums and historic sites but saved one of the most memorable pieces of history for last. The day was cold but clear, so they decided to walk the twenty-five minutes from the hotel to the spot of one of the last remnants of the Cold War. When they arrived, there weren’t many travelers; maybe one or two other couples, a few residents walking their dogs, but other than that, the place was deserted. ‘Perfect,’ Roger thought, walking hand-in-hand with Terry up to the broken barrier. The few pieces that were left standing were slowly crumbling away, by time or by those looking to own or sell a piece of history. ‘People just can’t leave well enough alone, can they?’ He thought bitterly, setting down the bag he was carrying and gently running a finger along the concrete. A bit fell away from his touch, dropping to the walkway at his feet then bursting into dust. “Humbling in a way, isn’t it?” He looked at Terry. “To think of how many people died while trying to get to this side of the wall. Makes me wonder what I would’ve done had I lived then like I’ve always wanted to.” “I’ve often wanted to ask my grandfather what it was like to play a concert here. It must’ve been a highlight in his career but I never got up the nerve to ask him.” Roger felt a tear in his eye but blinked it away. “Enough gloominess. We should make this a memorable moment for ourselves.” He reached into the bag and took out what looked like a brick but it had a cap on one end and when opened, was hollow. “Is that what you bought from the museum gift shop?” He nodded. “I wanted us to put our own little time capsule in the Berlin Wall before we left.” “Are you sure we can hide it well enough so it won’t be disturbed too soon?” “It’s constructed to blend in.” He took two more things from the parcel. “Here’s what I’m putting in.” He held a sealed copy of Pink Floyd’s Piper at the Gates of Dawn and a hand-written letter. “Hmm... can’t say I was expecting this but I do have something I can contribute.” She reached around her neck and unclasped the emerald pendant she was wearing. “This was my mother’s. She gave it to me before she died. I think passing it along to a future generation is the best thing to do.” She looked at the letter. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pen on you, would you?” Roger handed her one from inside his coat, along with the letter. She quickly wrote on a blank part of a page and gently tore it off then carefully placed the necklace and note into the hollowed brick. Adding his small piece of history, Roger sealed up the capsule and, looking around to make sure no one was focused on them, he gently placed the faux brick inside the Berlin Wall. After looking at the spot for a few moments, Terry spoke up. “Never thought I’d be putting a time capsule inside of a monument, much less this monument. Thanks for bringing me here, Roger. This was a fantastic holiday.” “It’s not quite over yet.” He reached into the bag once more then, turning to face his girlfriend, he took a knee in front of her. “I was waiting for the right time to do this and I believe it’s now.” Terry’s eyes shimmered with tears as she knew what was coming. “Teresa McKenna, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” He opened the box to reveal a silver ring with an emerald set in it. “Roger, nothing would make me happier than to marry you.” He slid the ring on her finger then stood up to kiss his fiancé. As they held each other, a small bit of applause could be heard around them. A few tourists also visiting the Wall had overheard the proposal and offered congratulations. The couple disengaged and gave a bow, earning a few chuckles. Terry glanced at their brick in the wall then at her fiancé. “Best holiday ever.”