“Simon!” Clyde, my boss called from his office. Walking into Clyde’s office, I hear him talking to someone over the phone, “Yes, I understand.” Clyde pauses for a moment. “Yes, I will send him over now.” Clyde hangs up the phone and then proceeds to look at me. A smile spreads across Clyde’s face as he begins to speak. “Simon, my boy! I have news.” I give Clyde a curious look. “Do you remember that project we were told to drop by the Eagles?” I give Clyde a nod. “Well Simon, today is our lucky day! We, more specifically, you, have been given the honor to go to their base.” Shock ran through my body. Was this a joke? Managing out an “Okay.” I turn around and make my way to my desk. Reaching my desk, I grab my belongings and make my way to my car. Arriving at the base, I get stopped by an armed soldier. “Sir, I need you to turn the car around. The public is not allowed here.” The soldier said in a gruff voice. Taking a gulp, I answer, “I was told to come here for an interview.” The soldier looks at me, then says something into his walkie. “ID please.” The solider says, extending his hand. Fumbling, I get my ID out of my wallet, and hand it over. The soldier looks over it and hands it back, “Go straight through the gate and turn left into the parking lot. Someone should be there for you.” Upon reaching the parking lot, I see someone in a white lab coat. Pulling into a spot, the person comes towards me. “Simon?” The person in the white lab coat asks. “Yeah, that’s me,” I say, extending my hand. “Alistar, nice to meet you.” He says while taking my hand. Alistar offers a smile and turns, walking away. Jumping a bit, I take off behind Alistar, fidgeting with my camera all the way. Once reaching the door, I see Alistar stop. Alistar lets out a cough, “Would you mind turning around for me?” I let out a laugh, looking at Alistar. “You’re serious?” Alistar nods. Laughing, I turn around. In a maximum of five seconds, I hear a door slide open. “Thank you, you can turn around now.” Turning around, I can't help but peer into the base. I hear Alistar let out a cackle. “Hold your horses.” A sheepish smile spreads across my face, and I follow Alistar inside. Looking around at everything, I notice the colorless walls, clocks here and there, bars on the high windows, and lots of rooms. I stop walking when I see it, grabbing my camera and snapping a photo. Suddenly my camera is grabbed from my hand. “Sorry, no photography,” Alistar grumbles. “How am I supposed to do my report then?” I ask, looking at Alistar. Alistar suddenly pulls out a small notebook and a pen. “Here you go.” Alistar hands me the notebook and pen. Shocked, I take it from him. Alistar turns and hands my camera off to a soldier. “You will get that back after our journey.” All I can do is nod and proceed to follow Alistar as he takes off down the hall. After what felt like hours of walking in this colorless labyrinth, Alistar stops in front of a door and takes in a deep breath. “Simon, what you are about to see is top class.” I nod. “There are papers on that desk that I need you to sign.” Walking into the room, I notice a window on one of the walls, with a desk and a few chairs around that window. Taking a shaky breath, I move towards the desk. Scanning through the papers, I freeze as I see the NDA. Clearing my throat I call to Alistar. Hearing nothing, I look towards the door, which is closed. Shit. Frantically, I stand up and run to the door, which I can’t open. Spinning, I look around the room for an escape. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins as fear flooded my mind. Suddenly the door opens. Turning towards the door, I see Alistar. Letting out a breath I didn’t know I took, I let out a laugh. “Sorry to startle you,” Alistar says calmly. “What did you need.” Regaining my senses, I head back over to the desk. “This NDA. I thought I was supposed to do an interview?” A smile shows up on Alistars face, and he quickly coughs. “I have to inform you, that what you do with the information is your own choice.” Nodding, I sign the NDA and the rest of the papers and hand them over. Alistar smiles as he takes the papers. He motions for me to sit at the desk while saying that he will be back in a minute. This time, Alistar does not close the door on his way out, leaving me to peer out into the hall. Soldiers walk by, wheeling cages as they go. I hastily write ‘cages?’ onto the notebook. I look around the room one last time, before taking the chance to run out of the room. I run around the corner of the hall and end up in a place with three new hallways. I could hear my heart beating in my ears, and suddenly it just stopped. I felt a shiver go up my spine as I hear a blood-curdling scream from the hallway to my left. “Simon!” I hear Alistar call from a distance. I could hear his footsteps running down the hall. Fuck it. I take off down the hall to my left, determined to find where the scream came from. I hear more screaming as I come to another room of halls. I take a chance and run down the one to my right. I stop, having reached a dead end, I finally notice how there is not a single shred of light. My body enters fight or flight mode as I hear a door open. People groaning? I stumble my way in the darkness towards the sound. Giving up, I reach for my phone. Shit, it’s in the car. I let out a groan. Coming in front of me, I hear other groans join in with mine. Taking a step forward, I move my hands to the side of the wall to find a light switch. Once finding it, I turn on the light, which is met by screeching. I turn and look, only to find a gruesome scene. There were people, some locked in cages, others on tables. I went over to one of the people on a table, and they looked back at me with their bloodshot eyes. They proceed to open their mouth and let out an inhuman scream. That’s when I notice, this person doesn’t have a tongue. Backing up, my shoes get stuck in something sticky. I look down and I can see a crimson fluid on the ground. Not wanting to stay there, I start to turn around to the door and leave. Walking back to the room with the halls, a siren suddenly goes off, accompanied by a flashing white light. “Code 48” was said over and over again. I could hear footsteps coming from behind me, so I head down the hall in the center. This hall had light, but more importantly, there were windows all over the wall. Stopping at a window, I peer into the dimly light room on the other side. What the fuck. I feel someone grab me, as I hear shouting, “He’s here!” Fighting, I try my hardest to get free. The soldier who was holding me growled like a wolf. “Hold still.” I see Alistar coming from the beginning of the hall. As he got closer I could see two things; Alistar shaking his head, and a syringe in his hands. In a moment, Alistar was in front of me and the syringe was at my kneck. “I’m sorry that it had to be this way.” Waking up, I panic. Before I could register anything, I was up on my feet, only to fall again. Someone helped me up. When I looked at the person, I was in fear. “What did you do to me?” I shout at Alistar. “Absolutely nothing,” Alistar states. I shake in anger, fear maybe. “Let me go.” Alistar smiles, “You’re free to go.” Alistar hands me my camera and motions for me to follow. He walked me out of the building towards the parking lot. As soon as I hit the parking lot, I run to my car. Throwing my camera to the passenger side, I take off away from the base. Once going a few miles, I stop the car on the side of the road. I grab my phone from where it fell and I dial up Clyde. In a few rings, the call falls through. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair, before looking over at my camera and grabbing it. Looking through some of the photos I have taken for other news stories, I notice some new ones. There were photos of humans with needles sticking out of them, humans being misconfigured, and there were a few videos. The first video consisted of nothing but a dark room, and screaming. “Will you shut up?” A person shouts. The screaming stops. “Get up.” Screaming starts again as I can hear a whipping sound come through the camera. Disturbed, I turn on the second video. This time, I am met with a familiar face, Alistar. Alistar begins talking, “The date is September 14th, twenty-twenty-three this is our first test for project Y-250.” Alistar moves out of the way, showing a person in a seat, with cuffs around their wrists and ankles, keeping them there, despite their attempts at escape. Alistar puts something on the person's head and presumably turns the thing on. The restraints are taken off in a second, as the person goes slack. “Stand.” Alistar commands. The person stands. “Walk towards me.” The person walks towards Alistar. “Pick this gun up, and shoot yourself.” With no hesitation, the person takes, what I presume is a gun, and shoots themselves. I sit there, watching the camera freeze on that last frame. Blood and brain coming out of the person's head. Still in shock, I didn't see the car coming from behind me. In a second, my window was smashed, and I was being dragged out of my car. I saw Alistar as I was being dragged away. “You shouldn't have seen anything. We could’ve been friends.” Alistar calls out.


“Mama - " “Quiet, James!” “But Mama - " She sent me a look so angry I shut my mouth. Pursing my lips, I jiggled uncomfortably; my bladder needed to empty it’s contents. We had been here, at the Choosing, since early morning, and I hadn’t used the bathroom even once. I needed to go. “When will you pick already, Mama?” I asked her, keeping my voice quiet so she didn't get mad. When I talked loudly she got a headache, and then she would become mean. I didn’t like when Mama was mean. She would always scream at me and also sometimes throw me on the walls of the ship. “James...” I pretended to do what Mary taught me that her kindergarten teacher taught her, that stopped people from talking, but only pretend. I brought my invisible key up to my lips and locked it like a treasure chest. Nobody was going to see my gold. My gaze swept over the rows and rows of little children like me in the cages along the wall. The Bird Children, they were called; kids who were found in a park after living with the winged creatures and magically becoming part of them. They could fly. I wished I could fly. Sometimes I also wished that I was a Bird Child, just that I wouldn’t get caught, oh no. I would be quicker than lightning and none of The Catchers would never ever even take even a hair from my head. I watched with Mama as The Catchers opened the next cage. They dragged out one of the Bird Children; he had hair yellow like the sun and all of his baby teeth. I had already lost seven, I was a big boy. Mama knocked them out when she was mad, but when I showed Mary she clapped and said I could put them under my pillow and the tooth fairy would give me treasures. In the morning, though, I found the tooth fairy nailed to the wall of the ship; Mama didn’t like intruders. She looked at me, from her chair, and I really needed to go then. The key had already locked my mouth so I just looked at her with my puppy eyes. Mama sighed. She does that a lot when she’s not in her mean mood, sighing. “We’ll take it!” Mama stood up, and she was the tallest mother in the room so everybody looked at her. “Twenty pounds!” “Anybody over twenty?” The Catcher looked around the room. He had really bushy eyebrows that made me laugh and a tiny bit of pee spritzed out. Oops. Nobody made a sound. The Catcher nodded. “He’s yours, Ma’am.” Mama walked to the front of the room. The Bird Child didn’t move as he was thrown over her shoulder, like prey she had hunted in the woods. “Come, James.” I followed her out, trying not to show my discomfort. The Bird Child was staring at me with tiny black eyes. The way to Neverland was really complicated, a lot more than just taking the boat to the lagoon. We had to go in scary looking tubes that went super fast and were always filled with people, and through all these little metal gates that would hit you if you didn’t run through them fast enough. My Mama said I was a baby for being afraid of the subway, but in my opinion even playing with the crocodile in Neverland was funner; I hated going in the moving tube. After that we would walk for a very long time, to Mary and her father. They lived on a street that was always filled with people. One time I lost Mama there because of the crowd and had to stay with Mary for a whole entire week, until Mama needed to visit England again. That was when we became best friends. When we got to their building, Mama would press a button and a box would whisk into sight. We had to go in the box, and it was like going underwater; eventually you would run out of air to breath. It was even scarier than the tube. But the box was cooler. When it opened again, magic happened and we were in a different place. Then me and Mama and this time also the Bird Child walked to one of the doors, and I knocked a special knock that Mary taught me: boom, boom, ba-boom, boom, ba-boom, boom . Her father opened the door. He had red hair and was missing an eye, because he used to be a pirate like my Mama but had retired to England. Now he wrote books and stories. Mary and I would look at all the pictures in his stories whenever Mama left me with them. It was really fun. Mary’s father was looking at the Bird Child. His eyebrows were raised. “Small one.” “James needed to go.” Mama looked mad. Uh-oh. “You should have left him with us,” Mary’s father said, walking into the house. We followed him to the living room. The portal was there. “It’s too late for that, innit?” Mama growled. I gulped. She would probably make me scrub the deck and yell at me when we got back to the ship. I saw Mary. Like the Bird Child, she had yellow hair, but she was so much prettier than him. When I was alone in bed, and nobody could hear my thoughts, sometimes I remembered Mary and then I remembered my Mama. Nobody was allowed to know, but I thought Mary was a lot more beautiful. She was the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. She waved at me. I grinned. “Let’s go.” Mama grabbed my elbow and pushed me toward the portal, before I could even say goodbye to my friend. “Bye, Charlie.” Mary’s father nodded his head. And we stepped into the portal. When we were back on the deck, the Bird Child was thrown on the floor and then I was as well. Mama was livid. She taught me that word. It means very very very angry. “HOW DARE YOU?” Mama screamed at me, and my head hit the wall, thump . It hurt. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I wasn’t a baby, I didn’t cry. “HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME PICK THIS - THIS ARSE ?!” she gestured towards the Bird Child who was thrown on the floor, his eyes shut. Maybe he was unconscious. Mama was very strong. Mama screamed into the sky. She had a big nose, so she looked a lot like a hawk. She was scary when she was mean. “Scrub the deck!” eventually she yelled at me, and stormed away. I was left alone with the Bird Child. The rest of Mama’s crew were on vacation, so it was only me and him and her. I glanced at the planks of wood that were littered all over the place. I had scrubbed them yesterday too. “Hello,” the Bird Child said. The sun was setting, and I had finished cleaning almost half of the deck. My back was hurting and my hands were all dry from the soap. I looked at the Bird Child. His little black eyes were wide and intelligent, cocky and filled with laughter, even though he was captured and would never be able to leave the boat. There was magic restricting him from running away, by a tiny little necklace that Mama had placed on the base of his neck. The Child couldn’t take it off himself, only Mama could, and as long as it was there he was stuck. There was of course the other way; if he managed to overpower his captain, which was Mama, he would be free, but I doubted that would happen. He was tiny and harmless. Maybe he could fly, but Mama... Mama was the strongest pirate to ever sail the seven seas. “Hi.” He seemed delighted that I'd answered. The Bird Child smiled with his pearly white teeth. “I’m Peter Pan,” he declared, and stood up. “Who are you?” I licked my lips. Mama said I couldn’t talk to the Bird Child, but I was mad at her; I didn’t want to clean the deck. And my head had a swollen part in it, because she threw me. If she caught me, she would get very angry. I looked around. Mama was nowhere to be found. “My name is James. James Hook. My Mama is a pirate.” “I don’t have a Mama,” Peter Pan the Bird Child said, and his grin widened. “I don’t need one, either.” And suddenly he was laughing. His laughter was like the tinkling of tiny little bells, as if a fairy lived in his mouth. I stared at him. How could he laugh about not having a Mama? Without Mama I would be nothing. I owed her everything . “Want to play a game?” His giggles died in an instant, startling me. I glanced at him. He was floating an inch above the air. Flying. I had always wanted to fly. “I don’t think I’m - " But suddenly Peter Pan swooped over to me and touched my shoulder. He was laughing again. “You’re it!” He was as high as the mast, flying up into the cotton candy in the sky. I stared after him in wonder, as Peter brought his hands to his mouth, calling down to me. “Come on, Hooknose! Catch me if you can!” The sponge fell from my hands. The Bird Child was like magic, real magic. I wanted to be magic too. I sprinted faster than lightning over to one of the ropes, climbing like Mama had taught me. I was almost as high as him while he laughed, crowing with delight. I felt a tiny spark of happiness alight inside my chest. If I just reached over, I would touch the sole of his shoe - “Oh, not so fast!” Peter swooped down to the ground again. “You’ll never catch me!” “I - " But then my heart stopped. Because she was there. Mama. She locked me in my room, she was so mad. She only did that once before; I was in there for two whole days. In the end I grew so thirsty I pounded on the door and begged for forgiveness, promising to scrub the whole ship and sharpen all the weapons and clean her room if only she gave me a cup of water. Mama let me out and slapped me. She said that I was weak and I would never survive captivity. She put the Bird Child in the place made especially for him, in the engine room. It sucked away the energy he used in order to fly and powered the entire ship. If the Bird Child was strong enough, sometimes the boat would even be able to rise into the air. But it hurt them, very much. I remember hearing the old Bird Child scream into the night as his magic was sucked out of him. I wondered how Peter would deal with the pain; all of his laughter would wither away. Poor Peter. Mama opened the door after only one day, this time, in the evening. She was drunk. I knew because she was holding rum in her hand and because she was grinning. Mama never smiles. Never ever. One time I asked her why and she said that real pirates never smile. She said that one day, when I would be a captain myself, if I smiled all my crew would throw me to the water. She taught me how to make a mean face that day. I was very good at it. When I showed it to Mary, she screamed. “Get out, James.” She grabbed my elbow and threw me to the deck, locking my bedroom behind me. “Mama - " “We have a problem,” Mama slurred. She was still grinning. “And you’re going to solve it.” A tiny sliver of fear started to creep into my heart. A problem? “The Bird Child escaped,” Mama said, and pushed me towards the weaponry room. “You’re going to catch him.” “But, Mama - " “Hush, James. Choose your sword.” I gulped. This couldn’t be happening. Mama said my first pirate mission would come only when I was twelve. I still have five and a half years for that. “Mama - " “JAMES!” Suddenly I remembered that Mama wasn’t always smiley drunk. Sometimes she would be angry drunk. Then she was super -scary. I glanced at the rows of sharp blades hanging on the wall. I hadn’t actually fought with one, ever. My heart was beating quickly. I didn’t want to - “James,” Mama growled, and I grabbed the first sword I could reach. It’s weight made me stagger. I let out a tiny gasp. “Now go and find the prick,” Mama said, clearly enjoying herself. “Go and find the flying... prick - " She started laughing. Mama never laughed. That scared me even more than the sword. “Find him and capture him and lock him in the engine room - " The ship at night was like a haunted house. I needed to pee again, but Mama would get mad. I also needed to cry. But then Mama would get madder. My sword dragged behind me, too heavy to pick up. Tears prickled at my eyes. Where was Peter? I didn’t want to do this. I really, really, really didn’t want to do this. But what choice did I have? Mama would - And then it crashed into me. What would Mama do, if I didn’t manage to capture Peter? She would - she would - maybe she would - No. I would succeed. I would find Peter Pan the Bird Child. I would find him and I would catch him. I would . I checked the engine room again, but he wasn’t there. Then I went to Mama’s office and Mama’s room too, and then through all the crew’s empty rooms. He wasn’t anywhere to be found. Eventually I stumbled back to the deck. I saw his silhouette, against the wall, before I saw him. He was crying. “Peter?” I asked, because I couldn’t imagine the little magic boy crying, ever. He turned to face me. He was standing right next to the tooth fairy who was nailed to the wall. Uh-oh. “How could you?” Peter whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. “How could you kill her - " His gaze fell to my sword, then up to my face. His tears disappeared, replaced by... mockery? “Oh, you think you can kill me like you killed that little fairy?” he rose up into the air, the moon setting his eyes ablaze. “YOU THINK?!” And he pounced on me, knocking me to the ground. My sword clattered to the side as Peter screamed at me, pulling my hair and punching me in the eye. Everything hurt. Now I was crying, but Mama said that boys don’t cry, not ever, especially not future captains. I was letting Mama down. I couldn’t - I yanked Peter off of me, gasping. Blood sprinkled like fairy dust from my cheek to the floor as anger rose within me. How dare he attack me? He was our prisoner. Mine and Mama’s. How dare he disobey orders?! Yes, come , little kitten , I told the anger, caressing it within me. Make me strong. Make me catch this Bird Child who dared to - In a flash, I grabbed the sword that was way too heavy and swung it at him. It crashed to the deck but I still held on to it. I was super-strong, like Mama. One sword wouldn’t knock me down. Peter was laughing at me. The anger grew. “Hi-yah!” I attacked him. He dodged, left and right and up up up to the moon and the sky, crowing the whole time. His sadness from before had disappeared in an instant. Peter was enjoying this. He enjoyed laughing at me . “I will kill you!” I screamed at the night air, and decided that, yes, I was going to kill him. “You’ll have to catch me first!” Peter called back, and flew away, towards the weaponry room and Mama. She had zonked out, the bottle rolling away into the ocean. Mama. He would hurt - Peter picked up a dagger from the table. He looked at me. I ran to him, my weapon dragging on the floor. Peter grinned. And he stuck the knife in Mama’s heart. A million pounds of sand landed on my head, my feet, my own heart. I froze. No. He didn't. He didn’t just - “Free! I’m free!” Peter exclaimed, and he rose into the air, throwing his necklace to the ground. I was breathing so hard I couldn’t breath. No. No. Mama - “I WILL KILL YOU!” I screamed at him with all my soul, because suddenly I hated him so much it hurt, it hurt that he murdered my Mama and now I would murder him, he would never fly again, never never never - But Peter could fly and I had never used a sword in my life. So when he swooped down again, at me, crying with joy, I knew what would come before it actually came. He cut my hand off. The pain seared through my body as I collapsed. No. No no no no no no no - I watched through dazed eyes as Peter grabbed my severed palm, throwing it off the deck, to the ocean. Tears were streaming down my eyes. I couldn’t stop them. I was shaking, from terror or from the hurt or from losing my Mama, I didn’t even know anymore. “Goodbye, Hooknose!” Peter crowed at me, flying into the distance. Only when I woke up and Ezra from the crew had returned for vacation and put me in sickbay and secured the hook to my stump, did I realize what I was meant to do in this life. I was made in order to kill the Bird Child. I was born to kill Peter Pan. And I would. I would.


"So this is how it feels!" Alex said to himself excitedly. He felt sudden lightness and absolute worry free state of mind. "I can do at all I want, I can go whenever I like !" He started ascending into the navy dark night sky, toward the giant and shiny full moon surrounded by hundreds of various intensity stars. Below him his native town with it many shops and churches and homes and parks was disappearing into the dark night. " I can fly! " He spread both of his translucent hands like wings and soared high above the earth with his native town where he spend all of his life and was now just a little dot on the very distant earth. He breathed in cold and refreshing autumnal air. "Oh it feels so good!' He was soaring into the highest levels of atmosphere then into space, the blue planet earth was now size of a football and it was getting even smaller. Alex was in dark space now. The total sense of peace and joy overfilled him. " Its beautiful yes but so lonely. I'd like to see someone, I miss people." He started rapid descend,stars and moon and planets going up with a tremendous speed. Now he glided just over the tree tops and spotted a single standing ranch house just on the edge of the woods. Single deer was spooked by his sudden appearance and run back into the safety of the dark and eerie forest. Now, silently walking on the foliage he got closer to the house decorated with the usual Halloween decorations some spider webs, skeletons, fake ghosts hanging down from the tree branch and finally a giant, bright orange and carved to look scary pumpkin head that still had some blow pop and milk dudes candy in it. The good once were already taken. "Trick or treat!" said Alex, pushing the pumpkin with his invisible foot, spilling its contents all over the porch. " Ha, its such a fan, I like it!" He jumped up to the level of the window and peered inside. The family of two a middle aged wife, husband and their dog were watching TV. He could see the blueish reflection from TV cross the window pane. Pulling together all his energy Alex waved his hands and yelled at the couple below: " Happy Halloween!" At first they didn't react on his antics and kept doing what they were doing, except the dog, who started running around the house, barking. With the extreme force Alex then banged on the window, continuing to yell and move up and down in his ghostly appearance. The couple finally payed attention. They looked up at the window and in a horror realized they witnessed a ghost behind it, looking straight at them. They felt the cold air entered their room as they froze in a total shock and awe, not able to move. "Is that, is that a real ghost?" woman said pointing at the window . " You mean right there?" In the next moment the apparition disappeared and they were staring at the dark night sky full of stars. Alex, happy with the effect he made, continued with his Halloween adventure and from the window went back toward the entrance door. As he was descending, he spotted a group of kids, wearing a scary costumes and masks, carrying buckets full of Halloween candies, giggling and walking gingerly toward the house. Alex suddenly appeared in front of them then went up on the tree and down again, screaming with the undead voice " Trick or treat! Give me all your candies! Ooooh!" Poor kids started screaming in horror, dropped their buckets, spilling candies all over the path and continue screaming started to run away. Alex continued to chase them for some time, making terrible noises and appearing from the different sides while the kids scared to death were on the run for their lives. He then got back to the house and enjoying himself, getting into the gist of being a ghost continued his Halloween solo ghost performance. " Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah " he gutturally yelled then touched the doorbell. He heard the dog bark, then someone steps and quiet cursing of the owner whose night was disturbed. Door was suddenly opened and the middle aged man, wearing a striped pajama and the glasses looked straight at Alex and only saw an empty driveway. " What a heck, " he told himself bewildered and close the door shut. He could manage only few steps when the doorbell started ringing again. The little brown mutt started incessantly barking while his owner opened the entrance door and not seeing anyone got enraged. Alex laughed over this demonically and went trough the walls with ease, he glided over the hallway and into the brightly lighted kitchen, the dog barking hoarsely followed him closely as her owner tried to hold him back yelling " Lilly, stop! Stop now I said!' to no avail. " Boo" said Alex to the dog and shook the cabinet with a supernatural force, then started repeatedly opening and closing drawers, throwing pots and spilling cabinet contents on the floor. China cups, plates , glass felt on the ceramic floor crashing into pieces. The old man was just standing there, all white and in shock and even his dog stopped barking and backed up in a corner. His wife hearing the commotion started to walk from the leaving room, abandoning television set that continued to translate Halloween movies, now the Freddy from Friday the 13th was on the screen. Alex went from the kitchen and into the living room, he went straight trough the old lady and into the large with the high sealing room. There was a fireplace, and it was nicely decorated with antique type cherry color furniture. There were wool rugs on the floor and room had very cozy look. " Nice place!' Alex told to himself then reappeared in the kitchen where shell shocked couple were collecting the broken kitchenware and their dog tried to launch at the uninvited guest. Alex made one more move with extreme force opening and closing the stove and refrigerator doors, then with a " Good bye, neighbors!" yell he disappeared outside. He was once again soaring up above. Loud noise from below was coming up to Alex, sounding more and more annoying, incessant and familiar too. He wanted to check to see what it was and in the next moment Alex opened his eyes. Breathing heavily and perspired he at first didn't realize where he was. It was a dream, a beautiful and spooky dream. Happy Halloween, Alex!


12:49 a.m. 13 th October, 1947 Karachi, Pakistan The streets were deserted. The riots due to the India-Pakistan Partition had taken their toll on the citizens. No one dared to come out for fear of being caught and beaten or burnt to death by a crazed, fanatical mob. That is, no one, but my husband, my son and I. We were hurrying along to the train station; there was a train leaving to Jodhpur, India, in fifteen minutes. We would have gone earlier, but fear of the riots stopped us. On the morning of the 12 th , a kindly neighbor had informed us that we should beware while leaving. There was a protest starting at one o’clock in the morning the next day, one that would awaken the whole city of Karachi. No corner would be left untouched, or rather, unscathed . But so far, nothing had yet happened. We reached the station at one o’clock on the dot. It was quite empty, save for some people sleeping in one corner of the station on woollen cloths. We reached the platform where our train would arrive. At least we hoped it would arrive. There was no telling what could happen. It could be delayed, I thought, or worse, cancelled. I shook my head and banished these dark scenarios from my mind. It was no good thinking about them; I had to stay strong. I spotted a booth in at one end of the platform. It was a small, wooden building with a hole cut out on one side, above which were the words, ‘Delcious Chaat.’ I winced at the spelling, but it would serve as a decent safe house, in case the ‘protest’ actually happened. If it did, it would definitely reach the station. The hole was boarded up by a thin wooden sheet which my husband broke with one of the suitcases. He reached inside and fumbled a little, then unlocked the booth. I went inside with our son. “Where’s the train?” whispered my son, staring at me. I looked down into his big, innocent eyes, scared and confused, and stroked his hair. “It’s coming soon. Don’t worry. It’s coming soon.” I hugged him, so that he couldn’t see my tears. For our sake, I hope so . I reached into one of the suitcases and pulled out a wooden toy car. I handed it to my son, and said, “Go on. Play with it.” He nodded, but just kept holding it. I joined my husband outside. “The train should have come by now.” he said, quietly. “I know.” “Do you want me to go check outside?” I considered this for a minute. “Don’t go too far. The protest would have started.” He nodded and left. My son tugged at my sleeve. “Where’s he going?” “He’ll come back soon. Don’t worry.” I said, evasively. Waiting was agony. The two minutes he was outside felt like two hours. I breathed a sigh of relief as his thin, familiar frame emerged onto the platform again. “It’s bad.” he said, grimly, before I could ask anything. “The protest has started. A very small group with oil was going past. Luckily, they didn’t stop.” I stood still for a full minute, then walked over to one of the benches and sat down. I could feel my heart hammering against my rib cage, as though it wanted to break free and run away from this hellhole. I couldn’t blame it. I heard footsteps and stood up sharply. But only a single figure poked its head around one of the pillars supporting the roof. Seeing only us, the rest of the body soon followed. It was a man, nearer seventy years of age than sixty, holding a small suitcase. He was not overly tall, and the top of his face was covered by thick glasses. He had a long beard and wore the traditional Islamic skull-cap. I don’t know what, but something in his demeanor, his gait, his friendly smile as he approached put me more at ease than I had ever been in the past two days. The same couldn’t be said for my husband. He let out an audible sound of disgust. “Karthik!” I hissed. The man’s smile hadn’t faded, even though he clearly had heard my husband. He was leaning casually against the pillar closest to us. I got up and walked over. “You’ll have to forgive my husband for his appalling lack of secularism.” The man nodded and smiled wider. “Don’t worry so much. It’s expected in these harsh times.” “I thought I’d apologize all the same.” My husband strode up to us and caught me by the arm. “What are you doing?!” “Keep your voice down. And what the hell does it look like I’m doing?” I retorted. He looked at my son, who was still in the booth, staring vacantly at the ceiling. He dragged me aside and said, “He’s a Muslim!” “So what? When are you going to learn that not all of them start riots and burn houses down? Vikram Nayyar, who used to live across the street from us, he also took part. Does that make him a Muslim? This man here isn’t joining this protest, right? And don’t forget, I’m apologizing on your behalf!” My husband was stunned at this outburst. I wrenched my arm free and went back to the man. “I’m so sorry about that. My husband is just a bit on edge lately.” “Aren’t we all?” An awkward silence followed this statement. I noticed he had a thick scar on his neck, curling just a bit upwards at the end. He was reading from the Quran. “Are you going to Jodhpur?” I asked him, desperate for something to break the ice. “No, Ajmer. The train comes after the Jodhpur one.” “No one’s coming with you?” “No,” He shook his head. “My family’s back in Ajmer. I came here to visit my sister.” “Aren’t they going back to Ajmer too?” “Ha! Try telling that to them. They wouldn’t leave Karachi even if you paid them to.” he laughed. My son ran to me. “Amma, can you keep this back? Also, I’m feeling hungry. Is there anything to eat?” he said, handing me the toy car. I picked him up and carried him to the luggage, which I had kept behind the little former chaat shop. I unzipped a small bag and pulled out a glass jar, filled to the brim with home-made pickle, knowing that he relished eating it plain. “Eat this for now. I’ll give something else on the train.” I sat down on the bench, and soon the man sat too. “Is that your son?” “Yes. His name is Rahul.” The man nodded. “I have a granddaughter at home, about the same age as your son. Such a bright girl she is! She plays the veena so beautifully, and sings too.” I smiled. “I used to play that veena when I was younger, and when she was around five, she would not leave it. She was too small to properly play it, but she used to catch hold of one string and play that again and again. That’s when I knew; she would grow up to be a musician. Ah, but look at me! Ranting again. It’s happening more and more often since I've turned sixty. Please, I apologize.” “No, not at all. There’s nothing to apologize.” He continued reading his Quran. I glanced at my husband and frowned; he was lighting a cigarette. “Karthik! What have I told you about smoking near the boy?” He glared at me, but sullenly walked to the other end of the platform. My eyes wandered for a while, taking in all the smaller details of the tracks and platform, till they settled on the man’s scar. “Might I ask, how did you get the scar?” “Which one? This one?” he pointed at his neck. I nodded. “Ah,” he smiled, “This was back in 1905. At that time, I was a hot, young firebrand. My mind was flooded with the thoughts of revolution and other anti-British sentiments. I was studying to become a lawyer then, when all of a sudden one day, someone comes into our room and says there’s a protest in our college grounds against the partition of Bengal.” I vividly remembered my mother saying that West Bengal and East Bengal (present-day Bangladesh) had been united until a few years before my birth. “Of course I joined the protest,” the man continued, “but it was swiftly broken up, and I was arrested. They beat me up in prison. A whip made this mark.” I gasped. He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was no big deal to get arrested or whipped. On seeing my horrified expression, he laughed. “I’m very proud of it. That’s why I don’t bother to cover it up when I go out.” We lapsed into silence again. I heard screams from outside the station, far away. Cries were raised, either for or against Partition. There was no hope now, I thought bitterly, the country would remain divided into India and Pakistan. “Do you think it will ever stop?” “Hm?” He looked up from his book. He kept it aside, waiting for me to continue. Somehow, this one simple action made me feel guilty. The poor man was waiting for a train, trying to read his book in peace, and here I was, interrupting him every time he so much as picked the book up. “Do you think it will ever stop?” I asked, softer this time. “All this madness. The riots, the protests. When do you think people will finally be able to accept our differences and settle down, without hurting each other?” “I don’t think people will ever be able to understand and accept differences without hurting each other,” he replied, “but I sure hope the pain will reduce. These protests will end soon, but if not this one, another will start.” Was that resentment I detected in his voice? I kept quiet after that, thinking about what he had said, turning it over in my brain again and again. I was jerked from this reverie by the arrival of my husband. He had a disgusting ash stain on his lips. “The protests are getting closer. A large group is coming, maybe half an hour away at best.” My stomach dropped. I closed my eyes. My heart went into overdrive again, just like when we first entered the station. Was this the end for us? My husband and myself, I didn’t think much about; my first thought were for my son. He was still so young, so much to live for. And the old man. Would he never be able to see his granddaughter again? I found myself praying involuntarily. “Oh, God... please, if not us, save Rahul at least. Please...” As if on cue, a train horn was sounded. I opened my eyes, hardly daring to believe it. But it was true. A small light was fast approaching from the inky blackness of the night, from our right. I ran to the suitcases and heaved them up. My husband grabbed some from me. I took Rahul’s hand and we stood in single file, at the edge of the platform. The train got closer and closer, till the engine roared past, sending a plume of smoke from the side into our faces. I caught the letters ‘NWR’ splashed across the side of the engine in white. I took a step back, taking Rahul with me, marveling at its speed and power. The train slowed to a halt. I took Rahul and a suitcase inside and sat him in an empty coach. It wasn’t too hard to find. I went back outside to help my husband with the remaining three bags and saw the man, still sitting and smiling at us. I pushed the smaller bag quickly onto the train and jogged over to him. “It was nice meeting you.” he said. “You too,” I answered. “I hope you meet your granddaughter.” “Take care of your son. He’s a fine boy.” I laughed. “Yes.” He shook my hand warmly. “Go now. Your train is leaving soon.” “Goodbye, Uncle.” “Goodbye.” I hurried back into the train and sat down next to Rahul. My husband shot me a dark look, but at that time, I didn’t care. I looked out of the window. The man was reading his Quran, peacefully this time. In just a few minutes, the train blew its horn again. It began to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster, till the Karachi railway station, with the man inside it, was just a speck in the distance.


Her throat was overtaken by the taste of a childhood skill. The unmistakable tang of blood and mucus, clot against the back wall of it. Hot air travels up and down its pipe with every pant. She’s tired. She’s been running for hours. But she can’t stop, because she remembered her . Her was the woman from the house, called Elizabeth. Elizabeth was forty three, and worked in an office before she worked here. Her life devoted to milk colored blouses, and coal colored pencil skirts, and red wine lip stain, and whitening strips stapled to her teeth. Her nails, ruby red, desperate to kiss the keys of an ash-gray keyboard. Her lips, hungry to leave invisible imprints on the hips of her employers, in hopes of the raise she so obviously deserved. But somehow, even after everything, she still ended up here, working for Mr. Shepherd. Lenox remembered the mirror next, because she stared at it for a long while, so to tune Elizabeth out. If this was the last time she should see a mirror, she wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. A girl stood in the glass, staring back at her. Seventeen, black wavy hair, brown eyes, brown skin, plump lips. It’s good she didn’t win the eyes, she thought. Then she’d be one of those girls who focus on every pore. She wondered then, what her mother was like. Did she look like her? Did her mother fuss over every spec and pore? Did her mother--? “Elizabeth,” she finally interrupted, agitated. She swallowed, “tell me about my parents again. For the last time.” “Not the last time,” Elizabeth scolded. “Your mother was an African American woman, maybe twenty-two when she met your father. He was about twenty six. Filipino. That's all we know.” Elizabeth swallows hard, whenever she talks about Lenox’s parents. It often made Lenox wonder if Elizabeth were really her mother, or the sister of her mother. Did she know them some how? But she never asked, for fear the truth would cut deeper than the unknown. Still. Even the little she was given, felt like a lullaby. The injection hurt; the injection always hurts. You get the first whenever they bring you here; it makes you turn invisible, at will of course, in order to successfully play the game. The more rounds you win, the more they reward you, with new needles. New abilities, to give you new advantages over the other players. Last round, Tommy got the strength of a dog’s nose. This week, Lenox got bat ears. “. . . Chameleon Tag,” she caught. She nod in response to it, but she didn’t listen. Lenox didn’t need Elizabeth to explain Chameleon Tag to her. She’s been an expert since the day they brought her here. She knows the game, like she knows herself, like she knows an old friend. Better an old drug. It’s always fun when it starts. And then it ruins your life. “Whenever you need to go ghost, grab whatever’s closest to you and focus on your surroundings,” Elizabeth explained, again, as if she were only starting out. “Once you get good, it should only take you a few seconds. Once you master it, the transition should be instant.” Lenox mastered it last year, before they even started playing. She mastered it in training. “Tommy’s ‘It’ this round. Don't let him tag you.” She knew that too. . . She didn’t want to know that. Whomever is ‘It’ at the end of the round, is to be exterminated. It would suck if it was Tommy who tagged her. . . Presently, Lenox squints. A futile attempt to throw the sun from her eyes, or blink away the rolling sweat that stuck to her lashes. Her cheeks begin to salivate, and her throat bobs up and down. Her stomach bubbles, forcing up the vile through her pipes, and to her mouth. She swallows it. ... His mind was overtaken, by the memory of a sound. The sound of the man named Michael. “Tommy,” he said. “Do you understand?” Tommy, like Lenox, nod his head yes. He wondered why it made sense. Neither Michael nor Elizabeth have ever played Chameleon Tag, so what made them qualified to train anybody? Whatever, he thought. So long as he won the rounds, it didn’t matter who did the training. Only five people get to win the game, despite being a class of forty-three. It was stupid, Tommy thought. Why Shepherd would waste so much time hosting round after round, when he could just pick who he wanted and be done with it. The rounds aren’t even based on strength. Only pure luck. Of course the stronger of the bunch had the higher chance of surviving, but, not a guaranteed result. He supposes it’s entertainment. Or an excuse, to keep them alive. The rocks poke into the soles of his boots, as he tramples across the forest grounds. He could smell the pigeons, as they flew lower than usual across the skyline, and the squawking was ever so annoying as per usual. They always fly away during a round. It was almost like they knew. The ground smells like last night's rain, and the bark smelled wet and like cold. And he could taste the air, like fresh powdered snow. He didn’t run. He swiped his hands across the wet leaves, bouncing water droplets from the green to the dirt. He walked as if it bored him. It didn’t make sense to tag someone, when there was still so much time left in the game. He’d only have to spend that much more, running away. It wasn’t like he saw her, anyway. Usually the goal is to get someone while you can, whomever it takes to take the target off your back. Today, his goal is her. Today, he’d tag Lenox. ... Only Hall D plays Chameleon Tag. Hall A plays Hide and Seek. Hall B, plays a Game of Brains; tasks to be completed, solely by only the strength of mind. Hall C plays Cops and Robbers, and if the robber lost they’d be exterminated, but if they won, one of the other kids are snatched at random. They say it’s scariest, living in Hall C. Hall E plays Rock, Paper, Scissors. It’s harder than it sounds. Mr. Shepherd owns the house. The children only ever see him at dinner, because he only leaves his office, for dinner. He says it’s his favorite meal of the day. It’s the only time they’re allowed to bother him, unless it’s something serious. He--. Her thoughts were broken by the sound of a snapping twig. Instinctively, she grabs the side of the nearest tree, going ghost in an instant. She stares at the sky, until the sun pierces her eyes. She forces her head down, and covers her forehead with her arm, and closes her eyes. Bright blobs of color infect the black, and shine over the trees and the grass when she opens her eyes to look. Eventually, the blobs fade away, and the space is empty again. Empty. Aside from the trees, it’s been nothing but empty space. No runners, hardly any rustling, hardly any breath. Just her and the empty space. Where did everyone go? North, she thinks. The mountains are the best place to hide. She could get there in twenty minutes if she ran. There isn’t even twenty minutes left in the game, if even ten, but it’d be safest to aim for the mountains. She’d make it in twenty minutes if she ran; but her pace is slowing down. She can’t slow down, because she knows he’s gunning for her. They promised to never go for each other. That they wouldn’t let Shepherd’s game take away the years they’d spent together. He was her best friend. And now, he’s gunning for her. She won’t make it if she goes on like this -- she knows it. She’s been running for two hours now, and then some more. He’ll catch her at this rate. With a quick jerk to her right, Lenox forces her palm to bark of another tree, going ghost again. If she couldn’t run, she’d have to hide. She tries to calm her breathing. There’d be no use in hiding, if Tommy could hear her panting. At this rate, he’d have to rely on sound alone, and luckily for her he’s got bad ears. And despite his nose, she’d already diluted her scent a thousand times over, rolling in the mud, and bathing in the forest leaves, and scraping against the trees. If he wanted her, he’d have to hear her. If he wanted her, he’d-- there. He’d gotten here quicker than she thought he would. He thinks he can smell her; either that or the one tree has a particularly overwhelming musk of saps, bark, and wet leaves. They’re nose to nose now. They would be, nose to nose, had Lenox not’ve covered her own to mask her breathing, and sucked her stomach far to the back of her, to prevent them from touching. If he’d taken the next step, he would’ve found her. . . But he didn’t take the next step. He rolled his eyes because he couldn’t smell her, and he gave the place a good once over before deciding it wasn’t worth his time. He’s already wasted enough walking around, doing nothing. Lenox could feel her heart beating in her nose. She ripped her hand away from her face, tired of smelling the maple and oak. She ripped her hand away from the tree, regaining visibility. Now that she knows where he’s going, she could confidently run down the opposite path. She rolls her eyes this time. What was even the point? The only thing she gets out of surviving this round, is the starting mark of another. Wouldn’t it be best to-- Crack . The scream of a broken twig being crushed between the forest grounds and the sole of a running shoe. She doesn’t move. He found her. When she turns to face him finally, Tommy lunges his arm at her shoulder. Lenox bends her back far enough that his arm goes in a straight line over her, touching only the air. Not that he’d thrown his arm that hard, anyway. Combat’s been his specialty, since they were seven years old. He could’ve smashed her windpipe by now if he wanted to. He’s going easy on her. Lenox throws two missed punches at him, before throwing a spin kick. He ducks, forcing her leg in a spiral in the air where his head would’ve been, before jumping up in a false attempt to spin kick her back, only to miss. They stop. They stand at a standstill. “I thought you were my friend!” she yells. “Go after them !” “There’s no one else here,” Tommy says. “Haven’t you noticed?” She swallows hard. For awhile she doesn’t say anything, rather she considers the chance that they could really be the only two. It’s against the rules, not to join a round. If you don’t leave for the rounds, Shepherd will exterminate you. There’s no way they stayed in their dorms. There’s no such thing as strength in numbers here; the whole class above them got exterminated last year, for holding a sit in. There’s no way it’s just him and her. “You--.” “I made a deal with Shepherd,” Tommy says, answering a question she’d never even think to ask. “I asked him to hide the others, so there’d be no distractions. I didn’t want any excuse, or doubt, or second thoughts.” He shakes his head like he said anything warranting it. “He didn’t go for it at first, he doesn’t break rules let alone his own. But we figured it was a loophole; hiding’s the point of Chameleon Tag. I guess he wants you out as much as the rest of us. . . I’m sorry Lenny. . . You're the strongest player.” Five students get to survive Chameleon Tag. But only one, gets to graduate from each hall. No one knows what Shepherd does to the other four. Only that they don’t come home. The strongest players often helped the other strong to get ahead. It helped them build powerful alliances. The smartest players, picked off the strongest while they had the chance. Tommy lunges for her again, but this time he taps her shoulder. He shrugged to her, as if it were all so innocent. But he stared at the ground when he said it. “You're it.” She didn’t dare chase him when he ran away. What would be the point? There isn’t any time left, in the round. The big computer in the sky’s already started her song. “Twenty seconds remaining. Nineteen. Eighteen.” Tommy’s the worst when he’s It, Lenox thinks, slumping against the nearest tree. He always waits to tag someone, until the end of the round. Doesn’t even give them a chance, to find somebody else. . . At least she can say she knew when it’d happen. All the seniors assumed, they’d only live till seventeen. Ten. Nine. She didn’t mind losing the round. What bothered her was it being Tommy’s fault. They always promised -- There! There’s a rustling? In the tree above her. A rustling? She could see no figure slipping through the branches, no animal, no bees, no persons. But that was exactly it. No visible persons; a runner. “Hey!” she screams into the branches. “Shit,” mutters the invisible man. The runner exposes himself, becoming visible again, and he slides down the branch of the tree. He slides passed Lenox in a stupid attempt to get out while he can -- Three. Two. -- there was only a second to spare, when she caught him and deemed he be ‘It.’ She didn’t mean to smile, but she couldn’t help falling down the bark of the tree, and sighing a happy one of relief, despite what it meant for the other boy. She couldn’t focus on the other boy. She survived. Tommy rigged the stupid round, and she still survived. “Round, Complete.” Two stoic faces, attached to the stacked bodies of heavy guards, came to drag the other boy by his arms to the unknown place the losers go, to never return. Lenox watched him scream at them, to give him another chance. She watched him, but, she didn’t listen. One of the privileges of her rewarded ears, was she got the opportunity to choose when to turn them off. And more than anything, she wanted to care. To erase the evil mindset you never know yourself capable of falling into, until you’ve entered a round. But the only thing she could focus on, were two very important truths. She is the best player. And next round, she’s ‘It.’


She was beautiful, like Aphrodite upon the earth; where she walked she inspired awe. The Myths say she changed for everyone, to look like their one true love. I always hoped I saw her for who she was, though I never asked. I never asked if her hair truly glittered like that, in rings of bronze like they were crafted by a smith, if only to grace her head and fall upon her back like a waterfall in the sunrise. I never asked if her eyes shone like serpentine, precious stones grown from the Earth. Her skin was as smooth as the water of the lake where I grew up and where I had been baptized. That me was dead and long forgotten. Perhaps she was my messiah. Her gaze was that of a prophet, she searched for your meaning when her eyes met yours as if she was reading a book left unattended. As she searched you couldn’t help but feel breathless, a goddess that was giving you her full attention demanded yours. I couldn’t help but feel, if only for an instant, that she really could see me, like none ever had. Her gaze was sharp and deciphering, but her smile was home. Her smile was ease, the warmth of a hearth on a chilly summer night, the light of the sun after a long winter. From her lips came her voice, smooth and sweet like milk and honey, and I had found my promised land. I had been lead to salvation by her glow, her burning light, and I was a new woman, bathed in the flames of her love and reborn from the ashes of the woman I once was. Our love was a fire, while it lasted. The burning of soft touches and kisses goodbye, like a wonderful sunburn; warm and perpetual. Her voice floated over me like a summer breeze, and I couldn’t help but bask in her gentle timber. She told me things, wonderful things. Visions of a world beyond and times past. The stories were never ending, and she told them wonderfully. I couldn’t help but listen to every word. She loved me, she said. She never wanted to leave. She never wanted to leave. No one is perfect, as I soon came to learn. Through her deific façade, one could see the cracks formed under the pressure. She was Atlas, the sky upon her shoulders, but she couldn’t admit her struggle and allow for defeat. Whilst she carried her burden, she smiled and laughed as if nothing was wrong, she was not holding the sky from crushing the Earth. I only learned too late of her battle against the stars, and I wished I had known the extent sooner. The cracks had spread out across everything. I was appalled that I hadn’t noticed the signs sooner, her back breaking under the pressure and the sweat falling along her brow. She had once been my savior, guiding me out of the darkness. For that moment I was hers. The roof was cold and windy, lights from surrounding buildings sparkling like a cold reflection of the stars. The light rain that had fallen throughout the day caused the air to have a biting, wet kind of cold that seeps into your very bones and chills like no other. Ambient sounds, the cars below us and the pattering of water all around, were quieted in the deafening silence. She stood there like a ghost, pale and hollow and nothing like the woman I once knew. Once I knew her as my goddess, my savior, my reckoning. I stood before her with a benediction on my lips. All in an instant, I stood there, once again godless and alone.


Jonathan Moore. That was me, a 19 year old guy who lived with three cats. I was currently flying. Yes, flying, and not in an airplane or helicopter or whatever you might be thinking. I was floating up in the sky, chasing after a bird that stole my favorite watch. It was like something out of a cartoon, really. A little magpie snatched the shiny watch that I had accidentally left out on my front porch. When I had gone out to retrieve it, the bird came up out of nowhere and took it in his little black beak. Right now, I was flying above a forest and close behind the bird. I was about to reach out and grab at the bird when he dove down into a large pine tree. I slowed down and stopped right in front of the pine needles of the tree. The magpie was much smaller than I was, of course, so it could fit right in the branches easier than I could. I assumed that it had a nest, and didn't want to mess it up, so I slowed down. "Come on, dude," I sighed. "Can I have that back, please?" Saying please didn't help. The bird peeked out of the pine, looking smug that he had obtained the object. I brushed my messy brown hair out of my face. I had never flown while chasing something. That was fun, I thought. What wasn't fun, however, was that the bird wouldn't let go of my possession. Through the tree, I spotted a small nest made out of leaves and branches and similar objects. Among them was my watch, the magpie's most recently acquisition. He cawed at me as if he was laughing, then flew away. Jokes on him, I could probably reach through the branches and grab the watch back. I reached in, but couldn't quite make it. Okay, jokes on me, I guess. I backed up, still floating, and tried again. This time, I shoved the branch out of the way. Somehow, the nest was fine, and I could finally reach the silver watch. When I got it out, though, I realized that the glass was broken. I frowned, upset, and put the watch back in the nest. The bird came back after a few moments and stared at me. "It's okay, I guess." I told him. "You can have it." He tilted his head as if he were confused and chirped again. He probably didn't like me being near his nest, I decided, so I floated down to the ground. I sat down on a large stone and rested my feet on the grassy flooring of the forest. Flying always made me tired, and it was nice to rest. I was still kind of upset that I had lost my watch to a silly bird, but I'd get over it. A loud chirp came from behind me, making me jump. The magpie stood on the ground in front of me, watching. I felt like he was making fun of me. I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the bird, saving it for future memories. In the background was the tree where his nest was located. "Are you lost?" A voice came from behind me. I turned and found that the voice belonged to a young girl, probably 14 or so. She had noticeable curly ginger hair and freckles. She was also wearing overalls, and no shoes or socks. I shook my head. "No, I was just.. Taking a walk." I hadn't told anyone about how I could fly, and I wasn't about to start. It wasn't as if it were an everyday thing, either. She'd probably think I was joking. She squinted her eyes suspiciously. Then she said, "But, um, I saw you up in the sky." "That's pretty odd. I've been, er, down here the whole time. Walking. Like I said." I don't know if you could tell, but I was a great liar. "No," she said with surprising confidence. "You were in the sky. Like, just now, too. I was watching." "Oh." This whole exchange was pretty pointless. Our conversation paused (thankfully) as the magpie screeched again loudly. I forgot that he was there. His loud chirping made us both look over at him. The girl smiled at the bird and said, "Hey, Samantha." "Samantha?" I looked over at the bird, confused. I wasn't aware that the bird was female. Then again, I shouldn't have assumed. Sorry, Samantha. "Yeah, she's in my classes." Wait, what? I took a second to reply. "You lost me." "Sam," the girl gestured to the bird. I looked at the girl. "Right, uh-" "What's up, Rebecca?" I turned, and the bird was gone. In its place was a girl with blonde hair and a hoodie. Her hands were in her pockets and she glared at me. She looked upset with me. "..Uh, wait, so you're a bird?" I asked quietly. Samantha didn't reply. Instead, Rebecca laughed. "Yeah, she's a shapeshifter," Rebecca told me. "She's only told me, though. You can't just go around telling anyone. You know that." "Oh, me? Yeah, sure." I agreed awkwardly. "Wait. You stole my watch?" I didn't mean for that to be a question, since I knew she really did steal my watch. It came out that way, though, so I guess I was asking now. Samantha looked at me with a frown. Then she spoke, showing her teeth and revealing that she had colorful braces. "Well, yeah. It was broken. I was going to fix it, until you started to follow me. It really freaked me out. Even still, I feel like you're a creepy man." She kept messing with something in her jacket pocket, which sort of concerned me. "I didn't know that shapeshifters existed," I explained nervously. "I thought you were just a bird." She didn't seem like she believed me. Rebecca stepped over by her side and whispered something to Samantha. I watched as they communicated, and Samantha eventually relaxed. I took out my phone again as they spoke, texting my friends to let them know I may be late to the event I was supposed to be going to. All of a sudden I heard, "Okay, now give me the pepper spray." My head snapped up. "What?" I barely caught it, but I saw Samantha hand Rebecca the object that was in her hoodie reluctantly. She looked over at me with what looked like contempt. I would be scared, but I was kind of busy being proud of her for not trusting strangers. It was the sort of thing I would teach my future kids. The only thing I wondered was where she got pepper spray. "Alright," Rebecca smiled, interrupting my thoughts. "Now, the man can leave." I put my phone away. "I can leave?" I didn't know that I had to get permission to leave. "You legally have to," Samantha let me know professionally. "Please leave the property, sir, you are trespassing and I can call the authorities." "Okay," I replied, standing up. "I will leave." "Bye," Rebecca gave a friendly wave. I started to fly up. As I was leaving, I heard Samantha say, "Don't come back." When I got up to the clouds, I realized that I had left my watch with the girls. Oh well, I thought, they could have it. As I sped back home, I thought about the experience. The watch, Rebecca and Samantha, and the fact that I could easily have gotten pepper sprayed... That's all :) (1,260 words)


In a small town called Fairwalk there is a mom and pop shop on Sunshine street called the Mary Sue Cupcake Factory. The owner, a young widow by the name of Mary Sue Meadow lives on the top floor of the store. She lives up there, all alone in a tiny apartment with the bare amenities. She is the sweetest little thing that you’ve ever crossed paths with, to everyone. Her baking is even sweeter than she is. Her shop reflects this, in its pastels of pink and green and blue, the whole building decorated and patterned off of a strawberry cupcake, complete with sprinkles and a giant plastic cherry on the roof. It looks so good that on a less sane day you might consider taking a bite out of the brick and mortar, but you don’t of course because that is ridiculous. The delectable aroma doesn’t help our case either, the scent of sugar and fruit, chocolate, caramel, and every good thing that could ever go into a dessert is so thick in the air that you can taste it from the other end of the town. It’s so enticing, the icing and frosting that she does daily from behind a display window in her shop being a free show to any lucky passersby. Then there is what happens when you actually taste Mary Sue’s delicacies. I swear the first time I took a bite I died right there and then, by soul being wrenched away and transported to heaven. Mary Sue’s cupcakes saved this town. You see, there used to be three feuding families that lived here, all of them big and important. One was the Butchersons, they were in charge of any and all meat that was brought, sold or otherwise kept in the town. They were fighting with the Millers, they ran anything to do with machines. And I mean any machine, even the Butcherson’s tools came from them, and of course they thought this made them indispensable and they were quick to remind anybody that passed by. Lastly, the Cointrees. They handled commerce. All three of them vying for power and it got ugly. Then one day, Mary Sue showed up. She just set up shop in the middle of the town square and started baking. It wasn’t long before the families noticed. She hadn’t even consulted them about it, so they all went down there in a fuss, but they didn’t scare Mary Sue. She just ignored them all while she put the finishing touches on her first cupcakes. I think it was chocolate with coconut cream... Anyway, they all took a bite and then suddenly their fight didn’t seem so important anymore. Course, they all went and wanted the recipes, but Mary Sue wasn’t budging. Before any more ruckus could start she decided to put them all to work for her, swearing them to secrecy and the town was saved. Nobody ever did see any of the big three so much as walk the streets again. Then there was the school house opening, she gave out free cupcakes to every boy and girl in the school. Everything was much calmer and quieter after that, these magic cupcakes can even calm down and fix the behavior of children, imagine that. Then farmers moved in and started bringing their families into town to buy supplies, and of course there was Mary Sue, handing out samples of her delicious cupcakes, always new flavours to try. I haven’t seen a farmer in years though. Oh but I’m rambling on again, here why don’t we both head down and get ourselves some cupcakes? What do you mean, you don’t want to? It would be simply rude to come to town and not try one, I insist. My treat, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m sure she’ll have a flavour that you’ll like, I think she said something about trying out cherry today, something to cheer up old man Wentsky, his dog went missing yesterday.


“Jacyn come on, this isn’t funny!” I screamed into the empty void around me. I was standing in the middle of my dorm room when it happened. My boyfriend suddenly disappeared before my eyes. It was almost as if he never existed. I balled my hands into fists, getting angrier by the second. “Jacyn I swear, if you don’t come back in the next--“ He appeared again, cutting me off. “Relax babe. I’m here.” He placed his warm hands against my cheeks. My eyes shot up to his green ones. “I don’t like it when you do that. I feel like... sometimes you won’t come back to me.” I relaxed my hands and wrapped them around his waist, pulling his body into a hug. “I will always come back. You won’t lose me. My traveling is based on emotion, meaning, I’ll always come back to you because,” Jacyn paused, “I love you.” That was the first time he said it. I pulled back and stared deeply into his eyes. “I love you too.” The phrase made me smile. Jacyn placed a quick kiss to my lips and grabbed my hand suddenly. He started toward the door, reaching for the knob. “Wait. I have a class in thirty minutes, I need to prepare,” I blurted as he pulled me along. “Allie, you really need to loosen up. I’m just taking you to grab something to eat,” he looked back at me with a mischievous smirk displayed on his lips, “it’ll be quick.” I sighed, hiding my smile. I intertwined my fingers with his and caught up to him. We left the dorm building pretty quickly and headed toward one of the many restaurants on campus. I looked around at the other students wandering the campus as we walked. One of the reasons why I wanted to come to this university was because of the diversity in the area. There were several different types of people and I felt at home with them. They were all very friendly and welcoming during my freshman year and I really appreciated that. I’m currently in my sophomore year, majoring in information technology. I’ve always loved working with computers when I was young so I chose to major in it. And that was where I met Jacyn; the tall, blond, handsome devil that he was. It was almost like love at first sight, except that he really made me mad when we first met, or at least, tried to meet. I would always stare at him during class and sometimes I would catch him doing the same. I tried to stop him after several lectures and talk to him but he’d always disappear once he left the room. I never had the chance to talk to him until I accidentally ran into him outside of class, it was sort of an embarrassing situation. I was at one of those sorority parties, one of my friends invited me to go along, and he was there. Obviously I’m not the type to drink but that was a difficult situation. Basically what went down was, I was just slightly tipsy and struck up a conversation with him, but it didn’t go as planned. Anyway, after that, a couple days later he stopped me after class and we started talking. Sooner than later, I figured him out and I knew that he was hiding something from me -- that he had powers, that he could travel through space at will. He’d come clean and tell me everything that happened to him. He told me he was born with the powers, that his parents didn’t understand him but accepted him either way. And now that he made it to college, he was free to do what he wished. I mean, he could teleport anywhere he wanted at any time. Crazy right? “A BLT sandwich for the lady and,” Jacyn looked at me, expecting some kind of further acknowledgment, “yeah, just make that two BLT sandwiches.” He gave the cashier a dazzling smile and she quickly set up the order. I walked about the restaurant and found a place to eat while he paid for the food. Jacyn came over with a tray that held two sandwiches, a bag of BBQ chips and two soft drinks. “So, I’ve been wondering,” I spoke in between mouthfuls. “Is there a way for me to travel with you?” Once my eyes met with his, he was caught off guard. “Huh... I actually never thought about that.” He swallowed his bite and scratched his head, ruffling his ashy-blond hair. There was a silence that fell between us as we ate, I decided to drop the subject. I only had about ten more minutes before my next class started. Once I was finished with my sandwich I stood up and threw the wrappings in the trash. Jacyn did the same and we walked out of the restaurant and onto the grounds of the campus. We locked hands as we walked beside each other. I decided to go back to my dorm building and grab my things. On our way there, I felt a sudden loss of touch in my hand. I whipped my head around, observing my surroundings. Jacyn was gone. Again. In exactly one minute, he reappeared back in front of me holding two chocolate ice cream cones. “Where--“ I started to protest. “Just enjoy it,” Jacyn chuckled and began to lick his ice cream. “See, that’s what I’m talking about,” I huffed. “But, I’m glad you got me an ice cream, thanks.” Jacyn hugged me closer once we got to the dorm building. By that time we’ve both finished our ice creams and I quickly grabbed my things, checking the surroundings of the room in hopes that I wouldn’t forget anything. I noticed Jacyn checking his watch. He looked at me with pure eyes. “Listen babe, I’ve gotta go. I’ll meet you later for dinner and a movie? We can watch it in your dorm since you’re the only one living here,” he proposed, his words felt rushed. Concern washed over my face. “Yeah definitely, I’ll see you later tonight,” I said, clearing my throat of any worries I had. “Good,” was all he said before he kissed my forehead and disappeared right in front of me. ☆☆☆ After the remaining classes I had that day, I headed back to my dorm to get ready for our date. I wore an elegant, blue dress that ended around my knees. I put on makeup to compliment the look and flattened my dress to make it look neat. I sat down on the bed and waited for Jacyn to arrive. In a few short moments, Jacyn appeared in the dorm room. He wore a casual tuxedo, nothing too fancy -- there’s no need to draw any unwanted attention. His blond hair was slicked back with a little grease, complimenting him well. Almost a little too well... I stood up swiftly and wrapped my arms around his neck, crushing his body against mine. He let out a surprised groan and my lips touched his. Our mouths danced around each other for a moment before I pulled away with a questioning look. “So?” I paused before continuing, catching his jade-green eyes. “Where are we going?” “I’m taking you to...” Jacyn trailed his words for a dramatic effect. “Fiola. It’s a high-class Italian restaurant in the city, and I know your parents are Italian and I know you love Italian food, so that’s where we’re going.” Hearing the thoughtfulness behind his words almost made my heart ache. He knew so many things about me, I mean it has been a year so I guess that’s understandable, but I was still concerned about him. I never really got the full extent of his powers, he never really opened up to me about it. I was always the one to pry, I was just curious. “Okay,” I bubbled and grabbed his hand as he led me out of the dorm building and into the darkness of the night. There were lights that lined the sidewalks, illuminating our path through the campus grounds. Once we arrived at Jacyn’s car, a freaking Mercedes by the way, still don’t understand how he could afford that... I hopped in and he drove north toward the city. The whole car ride was full of karaoke singing, dancing, and goofing around. We also talked too, about future plans, upcoming events, things like that. It took about an hour to get to the restaurant from the campus. Jacyn had already made reservations so we were seated pretty quickly. A waiter made their way over to the table and took our order. I ordered a dish of their famous chicken parmesan and Jacyn ordered the classic spaghetti and meatballs. Once the waiter was gone, I remembered what happened back at the dorms -- I had a few questions to ask. “Back in the dorm room after lunch, you were hurried to leave,” I saw his eyes shot up to mine, “I was wondering where you went...” Jacyn sighed and placed a hand against his forehead, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t want to bring it up...” His serious tone alerted me. I sat up straighter in the chair and leaned forward to listen better. “I’m sorta... on the run,” he scrunched his face, expecting a bad reaction from me. I leaned back in my chair slowly and ran my fingers through my hair, processing the information. “Okay... from who?” “Scientists, basically. They found out about me and want to make me their test subject,” he spoke through his teeth. I could tell he was struggling as he told me about them. He told me about how they got to his parents but didn’t do anything too serious. Jacyn’s parents slipped and it accidentally came out that he had teleportation powers. He couldn’t resent his parents for an accident, but he knew that he needed to keep himself safe -- and that meant he couldn’t meet his parents for a while. “I’m so sorry, Jacyn.” I reached my hand out to hold his, and just as my fingertips grazed his skin, a gunshot was heard from the far wall of the room. In a flash, Jacyn was gone, disappeared into thin air, the shot would’ve pierced through him if he hadn’t teleported. He reappeared again, grabbed my hand and stumbled through the screaming chaos that surrounded us. We ran out of the restaurant, barely touching our food -- I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. He lead me far away from the restaurant and into an alleyway, squishing his body flat against the wall. I did the same as footsteps were heard, advancing fast on our location. The screams from the restaurant echoed in the streets, people were running out of the building and scattering across the area. Jacyn turned to me, helplessness in his eyes. He hugged me tight and whispered, “I hope this works.” And suddenly, we jumped through space.


A horse was essential out here simply because how d***ed far everything was from everything else. Lieutenant Nathaniel James Beaty kicked up his horse to a brief trot to catch up with his companions. Despite the official rank given to him by the State of ________, he was actually a junior member of the group as this war party had no army to command. 22 officers and NCOs moving incognito across the scorching hot prairies into the far west in hopes of raising a rebellion among the disgruntled Americans and Indians alike beyond the plains. Their hubris was shown by how their leader was made a colonel of a regiment that not only did not exist but was to be recruited from people still under the Union yoke. The trip there was the least of their worries as there was nothing but rolling hills of grass as tall as a man in this part of the world, although the occasional cabin by the sides of rivers and creeks showed how this was a newly settled region upon the outbreak of the war. Beyond there was the Great River and expansive plains full of Indian nations hostile to the Union and the occasional undermanned Union fort on the trails. Union control was believed to have collapsed in much of the plains due to the war. As one Indian chief put it, “How could the Great Father prevent his Red Children from fighting if he cannot keep his White Children from fighting?” The rumors and the general lack of any loyalties were the reason behind the vagueness of this war party’s plans, who were now trudging single file through a rocky creek. The steep dirt slopes were a real danger to the horses who could fall and in some places, the slopes were not even climbable by a man without equipment. The largely featureless and repetitive terrain of the prairies is what made people not apt to live in one place versus another and there were no real towns anywhere south of the rail terminus in this land called Quivira. Even so, the buffs and gulleys made traveling in a straight line impossible and the risk of losing vital personal effects was real. Nathaniel himself had mixed feelings about the war like everyone else. What he had not told anyone when joining this party was he had actually been in the Quivira cavalry too and had left more because of arguments with his immediate compatriots than anything else. For that same reason, Nathaniel also did not like how men were allowed to recruit and lead their own companies because he had seen how it allowed uneducated and dishonest men to rise to command. Allegedly, one of John Brown’s bandit friends was a captain somewhere in Quivira. However, in this case, it was impossible to work otherwise due to the distances involved and the State of _______ would not be able to rightly give orders once across the Great River. The trouble in the land they were crossing at the moment was that simply no one knew anything about it. It was populated by a mix of homesteaders and friendly Indians who worked the fur trade, all of whom arrived in this place within living memory. These Indians appeared friendly to both sides, which was likely while some of them went south to join the Confederacy and others were in Union service. It was said a fair amount of the militia here were white men under Indian chiefs and they all freely comingled in the same villages. There was a Union militia somewhere out here, these guys had fought in the State of _______ before, but now Nathaniel wondered where these guys were even coming from because they had not seen a living soul since leaving their home state. Many of the frontiersmen were just people who wanted to be left alone, however. The defensive plan was to simply leave them alone. Nathaniel called out to the major in front of him “How far is it to freshwater?” Major Jones replied “Half a day’s ride to the Cuivre River northwest.” The name struck Nathaniel as strange. That was not the first time a place out here with a French name. Did the French really get out this far before the Louisiana Purchase? That could not be the case, because the nearest town founded by the New Orleans colony was St. Louis, all the way on the other side of a warzone and there was no civilization at all in these parts. Suddenly, in the way the grass and terrain kept them out of sight until 100 yards away, a band of four red-skinned men was waving them down and approaching. The custom on the frontier was to speak to all strangers on the road not just for the safety of communities but for vital news that has no other means of traveling. These Indians appeared relaxed and oddly enough one of them carried a rifled musket and another had an old but well-maintained Charleville musket while the other two simply had bows and their clothes appeared to be long blankets folded over them in a bit of a tunic. As they approached Nathaniel wondered if there would be an impromptu sign language attempt. The leader of the party addressed them in English: “Good day to you. We do not get many strangers around here, how goes the world?” Nathaniel now seriously regretted how four of his party had on gray coats, but to be fair these were also the only jackets they owned. The colonel, having planned this ahead of time, said they were Quivira mounted militia returning from a raid. The Indian said it was curious he did not recognize him. He said his friends were just out here hunting small game but their job was also to keep this land under surveillance. Nethaniel and everyone else suppressed any reaction, but Nethaniel could tell all men present understood the problem. The Indian was now talking to his friends in some native tongue positively sibilant to them, and after a full minute said they’d guide and escort their party to the railroad terminus. This kind of mortal tension was too much for any sane mind to bear. Without a word spoken, Major Jones drew his pistol and fired possibly hitting the Indian’s horse but startling all horses present. The Indians exclaimed something and Nathaniel frantically tried pulling out his rifle from his saddle only to kick up his horse to follow the party now chasing after the Indians so they could not raise the alarm. That ended a few minutes later when the Indians climbed up a steep buff and the whole party saw an entire encampment up there. The colonel turned and said “Make a run for it, boys! See you at Great River!” The whole party turned tail and ran southwest at full gallop and mounted Indians and war whoops could be heard behind them. Several gunshots were heard as they ran across the prairies and after several minutes several of the party whose horses were faster paused on a rise to let the others catch up and to let loose a few shots at the Indians. Nathaniel caught up to them and finally managed to get his rifle out of his saddle, but this was enough time for someone in American clothes to flank them on the left. This went on for hours across the prairie and was so frantic that Nathaniel did not notice two of their number gone until later. Soon they found this wooded creek bed that they ran down for cover, but the Indians did not lose track of them. Movement down this creek was slower but offered protection from bullets until they reached the mouth of the creek apparently in the Cuivre. The lead of the party nearly fell down into a ten-foot drop with the river’s steep mud embankments. They all dismounted and used the river’s banks as a fighting position. This was easier said than done, as the spot Nathaniel chose immediately collapsed under his weight and he fell into the river hoping his powder was not ruined. Nathaniel thought he was going to have a heart attack from the heat, exertion, and the panic of almost dying a dozen times in an afternoon. Shots rang out, and Nathaniel crawled up to the edge of the embankment and fired at an Indian who was also approaching under cover. He ducked his head under to reload, and in the frantic noise of the battle he distinctly heard word Nathaniel only understood due to his college days; “Faites le tour et coupez-les de l’autre côté de la rivière!” He peeked around and saw the man who spoke it not 15 yards away and their eyes met. It was an old man, a tall man on horseback, and it was a white man in Indian clothes. That man aimed at Nathaniel who ducked just in time to get dirt sprayed in his face. The Indians were flanking, as now they were in the river banks on either side and there was no significant cover from those directions except what thornbushes offered. His compatriot Lieutenant Barnes next to him was taking a white handkerchief and waving it to surrender, but this was ignored by Indians who deliberately aimed and shot him in the chest. Nathaniel turned intending to swim the river but found he could touch the bottom. He got his boot stuck in mud that was probably heavy clay and dunked his head under the murky water to deal with it without being shot. His foot left the boot before the boot moved out of the mud, and he simply left it there, rising from the water shearing the yells of dying men. Other men who had also crossed the river streamed the water with their blood and lost too much to climb the opposite banks. Nathaniel did not see who had died and who had escaped and was not waiting around to find out. In a small wood across the river, Nathaniel found Lieutenant Davids whom he had never gotten to know well, and together they just kept on running. They no longer heard the Indians behind them but ran as fast as their exhaustion would let them. They ran past nightfall and did not stop until Nathaniel tripped, fell, and passed out. In the morning he would wake up to find Davids had enough strength to pull him into some bushes before resting himself. Their mission was over, and these two men would never be seen or heard from again in Quivira.


The tingling sensation in my body felt like a million fireflies dancing up from my feet and into my heart. I reminded myself to breathe. I freaking love being around groups of people. It’s almost like it’s electric. I looked to my friend, Kate, who was finally coming out with me, and smiled. She gave a reflexive smile. I felt like I was beaming with happiness that she had her face out of a book. She is seldom up for going anywhere outside their favorite spots. Sure, I love to just relax with Kate in our oversized hoodies, it was just something about seeing Kate in her “going-out” clothes that made me feel even more excited about having her outside the house. I looked down at my watch, but as I went to speak, Kate already knew the time without looking at her watch. So I said, “I know. You’ll give me all kinds of crazy signals until it’s time.” Maybe the word crazy was too harsh. Anyway, she will have a good time and will thank me later. It was then that Taylor opened the door and flashed her perfect smile at us. “Denise!” she shouted as she marched her feet in excitement. Matching her energy, I opened my arms and sang “Taylor!”. We embraced and I introduced Taylor to Kate. As we walked in, I immediately recognized almost everyone I used to work with back at Hanger’s Bar. I was washed over with different memories for each person. I set my things down and proceeded to greet each one with a short hug. It took me quite a few minutes to catch up politely with each hug recipient before separating to arm myself with a drink and my best friend. As I scanned the room for more familiar faces to reminisce with, I saw Kate approaching me with drinks. She’s the best, which is why I have a few people that I want her to meet. I knew that Kate’s energy reserve could be depleted quickly with too many social interactions, so I had to choose my recommendations carefully. I let her choose from my list of potential social options in the order that she thinks would be best. It is somewhat of a game we play when we go out. I choose four to five people that I think she would really enjoy getting to know and, based on Kate’s energy supply that night, we meet as many as she wants. It is a way that we can both be respectful of each other’s needs. And that’s why this party will be the best because, with Kate, it always is. The bodily sensations I was experiencing felt like a fuzzy boulder was sitting in my stomach while my mouth would put the dusty desert plains to shame. I reminded myself to breathe. My friend, Denise, looked at me and smiled. For as long as Kate could remember, Denise had always thrived when she was the center of attention. Denise long denies it, but if you look closely right before she’s about to step into the spotlight, there’s an almost too subtle to miss switch, like the batteries connecting in a toy. It had been forever since I have come out with Denise. It has been forever only because I can almost always be found happily reading alone under my blanket at home. So according to best friend law, I am required one obligatory night a month to a place of Denise’s choosing. I could see Denise out of the corner of my eye, looking down at her watch. “Seven fifteen,” I said, without looking at mine. I checked five minutes ago. “We have one hour and forty-five minutes until” and she interrupted. She tried to tell me my very discreet finger-to-nose signal was crazy. “And they are not crazy signals,” I mumbled. It is just sometimes when my battery is running low, I can be, shall we say, eager to leave? As I finished my sentence, the pale yellow door opened, and there stood our hostess for the next one hour and forty-four minutes anyway. She was wearing a very flashy dress and very sensible heels. I remember thinking that was either smart or not on purpose. I blinked as if to shake myself out of my own head. As Kate started her first round of hugs, I didn’t want to stand awkwardly to the side of the group of people while she caught up with everyone, so I kept it moving through the kitchen and into the living room. I grabbed a couple of red cups and filled them with the mystery punch from the refreshments table. As I stood there, drinking and scanning the rest of the faces in the room, I saw the cutest orange tabby cat on the top of the piano by the back wall. So naturally, I made my way over and began to scratch the kitty’s chin. I figured if anyone else wanted to pet the cat, it would be a natural conversation starter and something we would automatically have in common. When the cat decided it had its fill of human attention and ran off, I started to make my way back towards Kate. I gave her the punch and she started to give me short little bios of the people she wanted me to meet tonight. As much as I find comfort in my Netflix list and pajamas with Denise after school, I really do look forward to shaking things up once a month and coming out with her. She gives me that push I need to get my toes outside of my comfort zone. “Life starts outside your comfort zone!” Kate likes to sing out when I am resisting social shindigs. Most of the time, when we play our “Have you met?” game and keep it within my energy reserves, I am usually glad to be out. And that’s why this party will be the best because, with Denise, it always is.