Anika Choudhary had very few material comforts. A hot water bath was not one of them. Neither was sleeping in air-conditioning in the summer or waking up without cockroaches in the sheets. Nor was getting a decent wifi signal when she needed to find work. She did, however, have the kulfi man. He arrived before sunset every day. Come rain or shine. From her balcony, she could see the cows heading home. They ambled, manuring the potholed roads, and narrowly escaped cursing motorists. She heard the bells on the kulfi man’s walking cane, heralding his imminent arrival. She salivated in pavlovian response. A matka perched precariously on the kulfi man's head, wrapped in a worn red cloth. The earthen-ware pot was lined with salted ice-- the aluminium moulds neatly nestled inside. The low-tech cooler delivered mostly-frozen bars, even though her apartment was the last stop on the kulfi man’s route. Those creamy condensed-milk frustums were unlike anything else in the world. Ten rupees a pop. She exercised admirable restraint and only bought one each day. She ate evenly and methodically, spinning the kulfi along her tongue so the bar held together. If she waited too long, it was a melted mess. If she did it just right, she got a mouth-full of caramelized sweet lactose, notes of pistachios or almonds, with a finish of ground cardamom and toasted saffron. Without dripping any on her bare toes. But that Sunday evening, Anika Choudhary was staring, and her kulfi was melting. A light had come on in the building across the road. It was in a room on the top floor. The window was veiled behind the spiky fingers of a coconut tree frond, but she could see someone moving around up there. She knew that building to be empty. Slated for demolition-- unsafe for habitation, or some such reason. Before Anika was cognizant of what was happening, she was across the road, kulfi in hand, ducking under the loosely strung rope barricade. The building’s stairwell smelt mightily of rat poop, which likely portended snakes. She ascended the stairs, the dying sun lighting her way through the broken windows. She thought she heard the kulfi man in the distance calling out her name. She had paid, hadn’t she? Yes, she had. Perhaps she was mistaken, and it was just the call of a cat, or a crow, or some creature of the night. Something about the corridors felt oddly familiar. Despite her never having entered the building in all the years she had lived in this neighbourhood. But then again, she had never paid any attention to the empty block that her balcony looked on to. Why would she? She had a doting husband, a circle of friends, a job that paid well. But now here she was, poor, unloved, middle-aged, and living off the transient joy of sweet frozen desserts. Anika felt surprisingly alive after having climbed five flights of stairs. She was fitter than she had given herself credit for; though perhaps it was just the sugar rush talking-- she had been carefully licking the kulfi all the way up. The flat that she saw the light in was at the end of a long hallway. Daylight was fading fast, but a street lamp peeked in and threw enough light to get her there. The door was open, but the flat was dark. Cobwebs crisscrossed the door frame. She brushed them aside and peered into the gloom. Nothing stirred. It certainly looked like nobody had been there for a long time. Perhaps this was the wrong flat? She tried the door of the flat across the hall-- it was locked. Anika frowned, deflated, licking the kulfi as she walked back to the stairwell. Behind her, a light came on. The light from the flat threw a warm arc into the hallway, beckoning her in. Anika turned and hurried back up the hallway. She felt a strange excitement as if she was coming upon the door of a dear friend who had invited her for a house party. The flat was empty, but all the lights were now ablaze. A dazzling chandelier hung in the foyer, and ensconced wall-lamps illuminated framed art that was long gone. In the middle of the main hall, a free-standing mirror faced out towards the balcony. Why would someone leave such a thing behind? As she walked across the expanse of the room towards the mirror, Anika felt exposed-- distastefully dressed at a party for the rich and sophisticated. She walked into the field of the mirror, shyly. She expected to see her own familiar body-- dark circles around her eyes, upper lip fuzz, stray grey hair, pale skin, paunchy physique. But the Anika that stared back was ever so slightly different-- she looked as if something about the world finally made sense. She stood eating her kulfi, staring for a long time, until she had reached the end and let the wooden stick drop. The workweek began again-- Anika manned the telephone at a local printing shop. It was a mind-numbingly boring job but it paid her enough to survive. This Monday however, for the first time in days, even years, she felt something approaching happiness. After work, she found herself looking forward to going back home. She hadn't felt that way since her husband was still alive and welcomed her with samosas and chai. The kulfi man carefully removed the bar from the mould-- expertly spiked on a wooden stick-- and handed it to her. He hesitated before accepting the cash. “That building is haunted, madam. You shouldn’t be going up there after dark.” He frowned darkly at the abandoned block. Anika noticed that no lights were on tonight. “Nonsense. There’s nothing there. Nobody. Probably rats. I was just curious. I get bored sometimes on Sundays.” He pressed on, genuinely concerned. It had been an upmarket apartment once, but somebody had died there many years ago. Many people who had moved in since had mysteriously disappeared. So people stopped renting there. Prices fell until people had stopped buying property around here altogether. That building was cursed. He reminded her that he had been walking this route for years-- he knew what he was talking about. “Oh, please,” said Anika, through a mouth-full of kulfi, “Everyone dies. It doesn’t matter where they live.” It hadn’t been too long ago that Anika had briefly considered walking off her balcony and ending it all. After much deliberation, she decided that as her luck would have it, she would probably end up only being crippled-- persisting in a wheelchair to the end of her days, on top of all the other misery. She waited for the kulfi man to leave, idly surveying the sunset reflecting off the parked cars. She felt a girlish urgency. As if waiting for her parents to go to sleep so that she could phone a boyfriend under cover of night. The flat was dark, but she instinctively knew where the power mains were. She switched on the chandelier in the main hall, feeling almost like this was her flat. She froze. There was a woman standing in the middle of the room. With a jolt of pleasure, Anika saw that the woman was holding a kulfi too. She moved closer. She realised it was just herself-- reflected in the mirror. She watched herself walking into the room. Was that really how she walked? It was graceful. The curve of her shoulders softening with the roll of her hips. She didn’t remember turning the mirror to face the door last night. But she brushed the thought aside as she admired herself. Anika had dressed up for tonight and felt more at home in the mirror. Her eyes looked brighter, and the corners of her mouth held an invisible smile, as if it lurked just out of reach. She looked alluring, mysterious. Her saree enveloped her perfectly. It was fitted at the waist and hips, billowing over her shoulders and around her ankles. Anika hadn’t felt this beautiful in years. “Hello, beautiful,” she said to herself, raising her eyebrows provocatively. “Welcome home, darling,” came a voice from behind the mirror. Anika froze again, feeling stupid at having been caught talking to herself. She stepped out from behind the mirror, ready to face-- There was nobody there. As far as she could tell, she was the only one in the room. A week passed. Anika awoke, having slept better than she had in months. She had had beautiful dreams she couldn’t remember. Her dark circles had started to fade, and she felt a little hop in her step. The kulfi man’s bells rang out in the smoky dusk. Anika had been waiting for him downstairs, ready for her daily visit to the mirror. She grabbed her kulfi, waited for him to leave as usual, and dashed up the stairs. The lights were on tonight, and there was music coming from within. Had someone moved in? Of course not. The building was still abandoned. She rubbed her palms --clammy with nervousness-- against her velvet skirt and entered. “Anika, darling! We have been waiting for you. What took you so long? My, you look fabulous!” A gorgeous woman, long black hair cascading down to her chest, reached a perfumed arm towards her and steered her into the hall. The lights were dazzling, and the room was full. Silver vases bore sunflowers, wild tulips, and roses. Oil paintings of pastoral scenes, fruit bowls and saree-clad women hung on the walls. Fashionable men and women draped easily across plush sofas, drinking wine out of crystal decanters, or dancing in pairs, shiny shoes clacking on the marble floor. A handsome man sat at a piano, his dark fingers massaging out a soulful tune. Anika saw herself, slack-jawed in the mirror. But she smiled when she saw how beautiful she looked. “Who are you?” said Anika. “My dear, we are just like you,” the woman said and took a bite out of her kulfi. The days went by. Anika began to lose weight-- she had started fitting into clothes from when she had been married. She ransacked her wardrobe and experimented with new and fabulous outfits for her evenings out. Things had started to change for the better. Strangers in the market smiled at her. Good looking men on the bus turned to look at her. Her boss noticed her renewed enthusiasm and positivity at work. Old friends invited her out -- she declined, saying she had to be home before dark. She had fallen into a blissful routine. Every evening she rushed home and waited breathlessly for the tinkling bells of the kulfi man. “Twenty?” The kulfi man had said, the first time she had ordered in bulk. “Yes! I have friends to give them to. Don’t worry, I won’t eat them all.” Soon, he had stopped asking, pocketing the money grimly, and handing her the bars. He watched silently, as she arranged them neatly on a plate and walked across the street into the building. “Who wants kulfis?” She would say, holding aloft the plate of frozen bars. Her friends --beautiful every one of them-- would descend, blowing kisses and complimenting her choice of shoes that evening. She would hand them out one by one. And they would party until the early hours of the morning. The best part was the time she spent in front of the mirror, looking deep into the soul of the real Anika, savouring her kulfi. The smiling, happy, flawless, Anika. “Madam, you’re looking very thin, are you ok?” said the kulfi man, one Saturday evening. “Thank you,” she said. She really was getting slim and gorgeous, wasn’t she? As she walked across the street with her plate of treats, the kulfi man watched her and shook his head with pity. That was the last time anyone set eyes on Anika Choudhary. It was a few days before people came looking for her. Old friends knocked on her door but got no answer. The police were called, and they had the landlord open her apartment. It was a disgusting mess. Rotting food in the fridge, piles of unwashed clothes heaped on her bed, dishes piled in the sink gathering mould, dust everywhere, cockroaches scurrying in the shadows. The police questioned Anika’s boss. He said that she had been acting strange the last few weeks-- coming in late, skipping lunch, daydreaming, and even sleeping on the job. She had not turned up for work that week and didn’t answer her calls. He just assumed that she had quit. They questioned Anika's neighbours, but nobody knew anything. The neighbourhood shopkeeper said she had stopped buying groceries for a few weeks now, He thought she might have been out of town. In the evening, the kulfi man came around as usual. The police stopped him for questioning too. Did he come around regularly to this area? They showed him a photo of Anika. Did he know this woman? “She’s gone,” he said, “You won’t find her.” “Why not? Where did she go? What do you know about this?” “The curse has consumed her.” “Curse? What curse?” The kulfi man pointed at the top floor of the abandoned building. The police had to break down the door to the flat. The lock was rusted and the door couldn’t be opened. The flat was empty and dark. The power supply had been disconnected a few years ago. By torch-light, they saw that the marble floor was covered in a sea of ants, interrupted by scurrying rats. The room was littered with melted, putrefying, kulfi bars. At the foot of the mirror, in the middle of the hall, was another pile of kulfi sticks. All of them licked clean. Later, one of the junior constables would swear that as they exited the allegedly cursed apartment, he heard a faint sound of tinkling laughter and music.


A man wearing pink robes stood in front of a crowd of men and women, all wearing their own robes of different colors. They were wizards meeting once again in a very mysterious room, which despite being filled with a hazardous amount of candles, somehow still managed to look poorly lit. The wizards all looked very serious and contemplative, but in reality they were bored by the meeting and impatient to leave as soon as it was over. Their colorful attires made them look a bit like a box of tired crayons. The man in pink stared intently at his clipboard, before finally looking up. “Well, I think that settles it,” he said, monotone. “Instead of directly dealing with the evil tyrant ourselves, we’ll just tell a farmer that he’s the chosen one. I mean, if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” The other wizards muttered in agreement. Satisfied, the man in front nodded. “We’ll meet again next month. Remember, you’ll have to show up *during* the full moon, not after. This tower is only available then.” “Sorry, Brother Pink,” said Brother Brown sheepishly. “It’s alright, just make sure not to do it again. I think that’s everything. I’ll see you all-” A woman wearing blue robes raised her hand, killing the other wizards’ hopes of leaving early. “Yes, Sister Blue?” Sister Blue stepped up. “Hi, um, I had some concerns about our clothing.” “You don’t like the robes?” Brother Pink asked, surprised. “No, no, it’s not that,” Sister Blue quickly assured. “I have no problem with the robes themselves. It’s just the... color.” Brother Pink raised his eyebrow. “You don’t like the color?” “Well, think about it this way. I wear blue robes, right? Isn’t that a bit strange?” “Why would it be strange for you to wear blue robes? You’re a Blue Wizard.” “That’s the thing, I am a Blue Wizard. But I practice fire magic.” “So?” “So?” she repeated. “Why would someone practicing *fire* magic wear *blue* robes. In fact, why would I be called a Blue Wizard in the first place?” “Well, what else would you be called?” “I don’t know, the Red Wizard?” “Brother Red is already the Red Wizard,” he reasoned. “He has the robes and everything.” “Yes, but why in the world is he called the Red Wizard?” she said, sounding exasperated. “He uses nature magic!” “There’s red in nature,” said the Red Wizard defensively. “I know there’s red in nature, Brother Red,” replied Sister Blue, “but when someone thinks nature, they usually picture the color green. Speaking of, Sister Green.” “Yes?” the Green Wizard said. “What type of magic do you use?” “Ice.” “See!” she said, pointing in Sister Green’s direction. “That’s my point exactly! She’s the one who should be wearing blue. Blue is cold. But instead, they gave me the blue robes. I use fire magic, I’m literally the opposite of cold!” “Okay, I see your point,” Brother Pink admitted. “But we’ve all had these colors for so long, it’s not as if we can just make a switch. People would get confused.” “Get confused?” Sister Blue said, her face starting to look red (which was perhaps fitting for the conversation). “You don’t think people are already confused why a necromancer decided to wear pink?” “What's wrong with pink?” he said while looking down at his own robes. “Nothing! If you want to paint a little girl’s room! But it’s not a great color for someone with the ability to raise the dead! You should’ve been Brother Black, but the actual Brother Black is a healer for some reason!” The eyes of a dark skinned man wearing black robes widened when he heard Sister Blue. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. Sister Blue, realizing her error, looked awkwardly at Brother Black. “I mean... well, it doesn’t make sense for you to be... I mean, you’re a healer.” “So you’re saying a Black Wizard can’t be a healer?” Brother Black asked frankly. “No,” she said, panicked, “that’s not what I’m trying to say!” She felt the judgmental glares of the other wizards. “Look,” Sister Blue said frantically, “I’m not trying to be racist! I just mean, when people think black they usually associate it with darker magic!” The wizards groaned at her poor choice of words. “What are you groaning for? What do you all think black magic means?” Brother Pink sighed. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Sister Blue.” Sister Blue tried to search for support from someone, but everyone was doing their best to avoid her gaze. Looking defeated, she walked out of the room. A wizard wearing white robes shook his head in disgust. “The nerve of some people,” said Grand Wizard White.


A Slippery Slope Note: This story contains triggers about dementia that may be upsetting to some. Dementia is the cruelest of thieves. It slips in, unnoticed, stealing small memories at first, ones you might have just misplaced, leaving you with the belief that you need to pay a little more attention to details. Then in an effort to pay better attention to details, you find that you are obsessing over whether you have forgotten something and you start repeating yourself more often than before. It is at this point that you realize that you are being robbed and you seek professional advice, first to confirm what’s happening and second to find out how to make it stop. But that’s the catch. You can’t make it stop. You can perhaps slow it down a bit, but there are no locks, no alarms, no sentries to post that will keep dementia at bay. It becomes more and more aggressive, taking away the ability to control your own life and ultimately stealing your dignity. My mother was diagnosed with dementia. It was a hard thing to watch. She was a very competent, self-sufficient woman who eventually died in a nursing home without knowing who she was, who I was, or anything about her life except the occasional lucid memories that slipped through. That is, she could talk to me about me, her daughter, while at the same time asking who I was. I was her caregiver until it reached the point that it wasn’t safe for her to stay here in my home. She would get up in the night and start cooking only to go back to bed and leave the stove on high or the water running in the sink, or even scarier, she would leave the house and I would have to ride around and around the neighborhood until I found her. The final straw was the night I found her in a graveyard a couple of miles from my house. She said that she was looking for her final resting place next to her husband and she became quite combative when I tried to get her in my car to come home. She had a total melt-down because she didn’t recognize me, thought I was trying to kidnap her and eventually I had to call 911 and an officer from the local precinct came out to help. She finally agreed to go with him because of his uniform and he was able to give her a ride home. That’s when I realized that dementia was not only stealing from my mother, but it was stealing my mother away from me, too. As she looked at me with challenge, distrust and fear, I knew for certain that we would never have another heart-to-heart talk, just being mother and daughter who had a bond so close that nothing could break it, except that now it was broken and the basic building blocks of our lifetime of shared memories were no longer there. The foundation that was our relationship was changed irrevocably, and now solely relied on my memory of our life together that would never be reflected back to me in her words and actions. Putting her in the nursing home was one of the hardest decisions in my life. I felt like I was giving up on her or that I had failed as a daughter as I turned her over to total strangers. At the same time, she looked at me like I was a total stranger and that sliced me to the heart. Once dementia sneaks in, the process of losing the one you love begins and continues until the actual physical loss of life is a relief. You find yourself at the funeral with no more good-byes to give because the person you loved was stolen from you years ago. This is not necessarily a comfort. Then you start to realize that dementia isn’t quite threw with you yet. What about heredity? How prevalent is dementia in your family tree? So, you live with the fear of developing dementia yourself. It’s not like anyone can know for sure or do anything about it if they do know. It just comes on, gets worse, makes it impossible to live as an independent adult and then you just forget everything necessary to function and eventually you die. So, I did what anyone facing an unpredictable and unstoppable event might do, I put it aside and went on with the business of living my life. Fast forward about 25 years, and you find me facing the reality of an elusive and slipping memory head on. Are all my worst fears coming to pass? Is this dementia? If I had thought that watching my mother go through this was hard, I now truly recognize the cruelty dementia brings as it toys with your ability to make accurate assessments. The depth of this heinous crime is just now being realized as I live it. Of course, at least for a while, I watch it happen to my family and friends, too. I watched my children watch me for signs that I was following the memory loss path of their grandmother and the fear, pity, and sorrow in their faces as it became apparent that I was going down the same road. But most of all, it is the absolute lack of control that beats down your spirit. One of the first things I did to try to put dementia in a box labeled “health issues to manage,” was to be sure that I let people close to me know that I was repeating myself. I could see it in the faces of the people around me. At church, I would see people I normally would chat with after service, look sympathetic and find excuses to end our conversations, probably because I was saying the same thing over and over. Then simple things like making out a grocery list became nearly impossible. In my lucid moments I would find multiple grocery lists around the house that had a lot of the same items and then there would be items I couldn’t figure out what I had planned to do with them if I bought them. And of course, I never seemed to have one of these lists when I was actually at the grocery store. Just a little absent-mindedness? And then there are the packages. Did I really order this set of towels? They are pretty blue towels, but when I tried to put them away in the linen closet, it was already quite full of very good blue towels. Why did I order these? Maybe I’ll give them to someone who needs them. What else did I order? I should review my last credit card statement. Still trying to control my slide down the slippery slope, I make plans to put in checks and balances to offset faulty decisions, but then of course, I can’t remember to follow-through. No matter how hard I fight it, my mind is wide open to burglary. I’ve worked all my life to learn and become the best person I can be only to now have it all taken away, piece by piece, until I resemble an angry child trying to get through the first day at a new school. So, I have dementia. I’m still the same person I’ve always been. I know who I am, and I know where I am, but I for get things. I repeat myself and I can’t help it. Just tell me if I’ve said this before, but I have dementia and I forget things. Have I told you about this new recipe I tried the other day? It’s for making blueberry scones and it’s delicious! The key is to make sure you put your butter in the freezer for about ten minutes and then grate it into the flour instead of putting it in soft. I found it in ... well I’m not sure where I found it, but I made it just the other day and it is delicious! Have I told you this already? I seem to be forgetting some things lately and I’m repeating myself. I know that is irritating, so please just tell me if I’ve told you this already. Some days I’m fine and other days, I just seem to forget things. I just thought I’d call you. We haven’t talked in a while. Oh, did I just call the other day? Well, you can never talk to good friends enough. How are you? Have I told you about this new recipe I tried the other day? It’s for making blueberry scones and it’s delicious! The key is to make sure you put your butter in the freezer for about ten minutes and then grate it into the flour instead of putting it in soft. Frances called me today. I’m not sure why she calls so often. I think we just talked the other day. She’s living with her oldest daughter now and her health is getting worse. She may have early dementia. That’s such a shame. It’s hard when you can’t remember things. I have dementia, too. I know who I am and where I am, but I forget things. I’m so forgetful these days. I can remember most things, hopefully the important things, but sometimes ... Just this month, my daughter put my bills on automatic payments. I’m not sure I like that. I’ve always managed my own money. I’m never late, but she said that I had missed a month or two on paying utilities and my credit card bill. That’s not like me at all. She says that now bills will just be paid directly from my checking account. I’m not sure I trust that. I like it better when it’s under my control. But then, I have dementia and I forget things. The other day I was driving and got lost. Well, not lost exactly. I’ve lived here for twenty years, and I know this whole area like the back of my hand. I’ve always had a good sense of direction and I remember landmarks very well. But the other day I looked up and just couldn’t figure out where I was. The houses looked familiar and unplaceable at the same time. I could read the street sign and the name sounded familiar, but should I turn right or left? Left, I think, but when I accelerated someone blew their horn at me. It was loud and long! That was rude! Is the light green? No? It’s red, so I’ll wait. Which way should I turn? I started crying but managed to pull over to the side of the road out of the way. I called my daughter. She asked me about street signs and what I was seeing and then she talked me through getting home again. Of course, I know where I am now. That was just a strange situation that I’ve never experienced before. I’m sure I’m fine now. I have dementia. I know who I am and where I am, but I forget things. My daughter says that I should come and live with her. I’m not a child! I want my own space. This is my house, my home, and I want to stay right here. She means well, but I’m not ready to give up my independence. Sure, I forget things sometimes, but I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself. I’ve always taken care of myself! My daughter wants me to move in with her. Have I told you this? I know I’m repeating myself, but I just can’t remember if we’ve talked about this. I don’t want to move. I like my home. This is where I need to be. Am I really that forgetful? I still feel like I’ve always felt. I know what I’ve always known. I just repeat myself sometimes. I think I’ll call Frances and see what she thinks. Did you know that Frances is in a nursing home? Her health is getting bad, and she needs some care. I’m so glad that I can still do for myself. I don’t think I could live in a nursing home or with any of my children. I may forget things sometimes, but I can still take care of myself. I’m going to visit my daughter. It’s just a visit. I’ll be back here in a few days. Who’s going to feed my cat? Did I make arrangements for someone to take care of Sunshine? My daughter is here to get me, but it’s just for the weekend. I have too much to do to be gone for long. And who’s going to take care of my cat? I have to get someone to watch Sunshine. What is my daughter thinking! I can’t just pick up and go off with her for the weekend. I have a cat. I think I need to feed her. Kitty, have you eaten yet? Is my Sunshine hungry? I’m not sure how long I’ve been here with my daughter, but I’m ready to go back home. You know, that cat looks just like my kitty. Yes you do! You look just like my Sunshine. I miss my kitty. I’m ready to go home, but my daughter says I need to stay here. Why do I need to stay here? I’ve been taking care of myself all my life. I need to get back to my house and my cat. Maybe I’ll call Frances. I know who I am, where I am and why I’m here, but I forget things. If I only had my car ... Did I sell it? I asked my daughter and she says we sold it a month ago. I didn’t sell it! She sold my car without telling me. Now how am I supposed to get back home? I’m stuck here. Why did she sell my car? This cat looks just like my Sunshine. I miss my kitty. Who’s taking care of her while I’m stuck here at my daughter’s house? Someone needs to feed her and love on her. If I had my car, I’d go take care of that. What happened to my car? I think someone took it. Maybe it was that nurse who was here the other day. I didn’t like her. She made me stretch and exercise when I just wanted to go home. I miss my kitty. But you look just like my Sunshine. Come here, kitty. That’s a sweet cat. Of course I took a bath. This morning? Well, sure. It was this morning, I think. Yesterday? Well, maybe yesterday. I don’t need you to tell me when and how to take a bath! My daughter fixed the best ham and eggs today. The ham was sweet and the eggs were seasoned just right. It was delicious! She takes good care of me. Did you know that this cat looks just like my Sunshine? My daughter fixed the best ham and eggs today. The ham was sweet and the eggs were seasoned just right. She’s good to me, my daughter. This is a sweet cat. She looks just like my Sunshine. I’m so glad you stopped by to visit. I’m doing fine. I’m staying with my daughter for a while. She made the best ham and eggs today. The ham was sweet and the eggs were just right. Did I tell you that I’m staying with my daughter for a while? I’m sure I’ll go back home soon, but I’m here for now. I know who I am, where I am and why I’m here. I miss my cat. This one looks just like my Sunshine. I don’t know who this woman is who says I have to stay here. She can’t tell me what to do. If I had my car, but someone took my car away. I’m not supposed to drive any more. They say I can’t drive, but I’ve been driving for years and I’ve never had a wreck or a ticket. I didn’t get a ticket, did I? I’m a good driver. Was I in a wreck? Wy did they take my car? What do you mean I should ask the woman I’m living with. That’s my daughter and I’m not living here. I’m just visiting. I have a house and friends I need to get back to soon. Maybe I’ll drive back tomorrow. I miss my cat. I don’t know why all of my friends and family never come to see me. There’s just this woman who says I’m living with her now. I don’t want to live with her. Who are you again? Is this your cat? I used to have a cat, I think. Did I have a cat? This woman I live with is nice and she has a great cat. I think this cat loves me more than her now because she is always in my lap. I just rub and pat on her. I think I used to have a cat. And didn’t I use to have a house? I know I did, but I can’t remember where it is. Where is my house? Who’s living there now? Will I be going back there soon? I don’t know who all these people are. I’m so tired. I know who I am, but I’m not sure where I am or why I’m here. Do I have a daughter? I thought I did, but if so, where is she? I just sit here and let people tell me what to do and when to do it. I don’t like to be bossed around. Did I have a house? I have all these pictures, but is that my house? I think that was my mother’s house. I don’t know who all these people are. I’m tired, I’m so tired.


Growing up, I always felt out of place whenever they’d start talking about the business. At first, I thought I’d grow out of it and come to love these business meetings and the view of everyone in a slick business suit that look like they’ve never experienced a single wrinkle. They look suffocated by how buttoned up their shirts look. I always wondered how they could sit behind a desk staring at numbers and letters for hours on end. At the age of twenty, I still don’t have a liking for working in an office. I’ve always loved the outdoors. If I dare tell my parents that, they might fall ill. They seem to be allergic to the outdoors for they never want to leave the comfort of their offices. We walk through the main door and whatever activity that seemed to happen before we arrived suddenly stops. Everyone seems to be busy typing or reading something. I know that look. I use it whenever my parents give me an office assignment to do. I can barely focus to get through half of it. “Good morning Mr William. You’re coffee?” She passes the foam cup to my father with her hand slightly shaking. She closes her eyes slightly as my father takes a sip and slowly nods in approval. She seems less tensed as she updates my father on the errands he has for the day. She leaves shortly after with a shy smile and a brief hello as she heads back to her desk. The office hasn’t changed since the last time I was here. Still big, classy and cold. It only has the necessities: three seats, a huge desk and a desktop that matches its size. The drapes are a dark shade of grey which seem to accentuate the room. The man standing right in front of me is my father, The Mr William McCroyale whose clothes are always ironed and black shoes never seem to attract dust. His hair is never unruly and lies obediently in a neat fold. His watch never has a stain and his shirt ever white. He is neat and organized. His blue eyes are ever stern. “How do you like the place, Lillian? All of this will be yours someday.” He smiles as he looks around his office. One might think that he’s just received news that his only child has won the elections. I fidget uncomfortably yet he doesn’t seem to notice. He beams as he sits down and slowly begins to go through the paperwork that’s lying on his desk. The outdoors and all the activities that came along with it give me joy. Sitting in an office seems tiresome and draining. I don’t want to disrespect my parents by telling them that I don’t want to carry on with their legacy. Disappointment will be an understatement. As I look at my father now, his eyebrows furrow, a sure indicator that he is deep in thought, I can’t help but wonder what his reaction will be when I tell him the news. I enrolled in The Tourism Agency for one of their courses and got accepted. Just as I’m about to speak, there’s a slight knock at the door. “Come in,” his deep voice resonates the entire room. His secretary walks in. Her leg is twitching as she tries to control herself. Is she always nervous? “Sir, Mr Clayton’s here to see you.” My father looks up as he puts his paperwork aside. He never puts his work aside. I panic. Who is Mr Clayton? He walks in taking in his environment with a disapproved look in his eyes. “I see the office hasn’t changed. Still a simpleton?” He asks with a smirk plastered across his tanned face. He looks exactly like my father; well dressed, clothes ironed and black polished shoes. His assistant, standing right behind him, is busy biting on her lower lip as her shaky fingers hold onto a folder. “I assume that this the girl you were talking about.” He slowly scans my body as if checking for an error.”Meet Lilian. My daughter.” He says with a proud smile. “It’s lovely meeting you, Mr Clayton,” I say biting on my inner cheek unsure of the events taking place. “She’s perfect,” He says with a smile as I turn to look at my father with a questioning eye. “Perfect for what?” “You will be marrying Mr Clayton’s son, Ronald, to merge our businesses.” My father says calmly. His smile slightly falters but he’s quick to regain his composure. “It was lovely seeing you, Will. I will keep you posted on the wedding plans.” He leaves soon after, his secretary following closely behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask between gritted teeth. “Did you take me like a piece of property that you could sell me off to whomever you wanted to?” He looks at me waiting for the moment I’d keep my mouth shut. “Lilian dear, it’s been a dream to expand the business and we thought that this would be a great way to start.” My father says trying to look composed. Before I have the chance to talk, the door opens and in walks my mother who has a big smile. She’s dressed to impress with her animal print dress and heels that seem far too tight. “I was close by and thought we’d have lunch together.” She says as she stops in her tracks, her eyebrows furrowing together as she takes a glimpse of my sorry state. I hadn’t realized that tears were flowing down my cheeks. “What’s going on?” She asks with concern as she approaches me. “Now isn’t a good time Lydia. How about we...” “No,” I interrupt him before he completes his sentence,” I have news for you too. I recently applied for enrollment at The Tourism Agency for their courses and just got accepted. I don’t want to take over after you leave the office.” I say as I take in their worry stricken faces. Tears begin to flow down my mother’s face. I thought I’d feel free once I let that off my chest. So why does it still feel heavy?


She danced between the rays of light, Searching for another like her, A home away from the envious eyes. No matter how she weaved and tangled herself around the empty space she could not escape them. No moon or planet was untouched, no cavity of the endless expanse held any solace for her. She drifted for an eternity, sometimes further into the expanse where it took longer for them to find her, but eventually they always found her. Millennia came and millennia went, and she had lost hope. Resigning herself to the chase, until one small whisper reached her that sounded nothing like the others. It almost sounded welcoming, cold and even, with no room for false intentions or deception. So she gave this voice an audience in her mind, having no reason to distrust even the smallest glimpse of hope. If this venture went wrong, all she would have to do is run as she always did. So where was the harm? It lured her closer to her pursuers, closer than she had ever dared go on her own. In the ever circling race, she for the first time in her infinite existence ventured to the very core of the expanse, where all eyes were drawn. Her dancing grew direct, flowing with less and less deviation towards this small voice in the void. Until there she was at the very core of existence, and she danced in place, spinning with no direction or need to move from where she stood. The voice enveloped her, drowning out her fear of the eyes, wrapping her in a safe cloud of sound and her own beauty. She no longer felt the eyes forever piercing her soul, no longer chasing her. She was safe, but how? For the first time in her existence she stood still and just looked around her. She looked out and saw millions of stars, all circling around her and for once saw how they too were beautiful. They shone through the darkness that surrounded them, in a defiance of what constantly threatened to snuff them out. She saw them stand their ground against their perceived enemy and envied their courage in contrast to her fear. She wondered if they were as scared as she was. And what gave them the courage to face that fear rather than flee? But these thoughts all quickly fled as she questioned how she was able to finally sit stagnant, why was she no longer fleeing? She sat in the very center of the universe, in a black hole that seemed to defy all light. It did not pierce the space she was in, and yet it was still present. All the light was drawn in, then bent around its edges, leaving an infinite void within. A void that was somehow welcoming. Honest in its intent and its actions. It meant her no harm and yet did not care for her. It simply allowed her to exist within it. She questioned its intent, why had it reached out to her and saved her? And its response was indifference. He had sat here unmoving for an eternity just as she had run and danced, and yet she had never ventured to him. She had never even acknowledged his existence and never asked for help. He felt he might as well take that step as he had grown bored of her dance. He cared not for it, and wanted momentary peace. More for himself than for her. And so he fell silent again. Leaving her alone in his embrace to weep as it all overwhelmed her.


“Cassie??! Where are you??! Cassie! Seriously, come on out! This isn’t funny anymore!” She trudged along on the newly fallen leaves, looking for any sign of her sister. Her dog, Maxine, close at her heels, “Go find Cassie, Max! Please!” the dog ran on ahead in the direction of the woods. “No, no. Anywhere but there .... Why, Cassie? You know better...” Jenny marched forward, begrudgingly, as if on her death march. The clouds, too, as if sharing her mood, shifted colors before her very eyes, coming together in harsh, dark, ominous grey hues overhead. As she approached the tree-line, an eerie silence befell her. The wind had stopped. All bugs and birds alike had already headed out for the winter, leaving nothing but a quiet emptiness in their absence. Maxine’s hair stood up on her hackles, as her upper lip curled into a menacing snarl. “I know Max,” she whispered comfortingly, “you did good girl! No need to go any further.” She patted the dog on the top of it’s head hoping to comfort it, but the dog never relaxed, and neither did she. “Cass! Max found you already! We know you are in there! Please come on out now!” A swift rustle was heard behind one of the tall pine trees, before breaking way to Cass’s voice-- “Oh c’mon, I wasn’t even deep into the woods! I’m only right here on the outskirts of the trees. No reason for everyone to panic,” she said jokingly. Jenny looked back at her sister reproachfully, staring into a face that was identical to her own. Even though they were technically identical twins, their personalities could not be more different. “You know we aren’t supposed to go anywhere near the woods, Cass...” “Oh really? And why is that Jenn? Aren’t you the least bit curious? Haven’t you ever wondered why all these rules are in place? We’re young, our hearts were made for exploring and having fun!” “The rules are meant to keep us safe. I’m sure there’s all manner of snakes and spiders and other poisonous plants in there. Even Max doesn’t like going in” she said, one hand still petting the pup’s head, although now she was unsure of whether or not she was actually trying to comfort the dog, or rather, herself at this point. “So you really think it’s off limits because of bugs and flora? I swear Jenn you can be so naïve sometimes, so gullible... so easily fenced in...” “Stop trying to scare me with conspiracy theories, Cass.” “I’m not trying to do anything. And they’re not theories. They’re highly plausible realities. They’re hiding something in the woods, Jenn. Something more than arachnids.” “Well, I’m sure whatever’s hidden, is hidden for a reason Cass, so let’s just get back to the house okay? Before the storm hits at least...” Jenn said, as thunder aptly rumbled a low foreboding sound in the distance. “What are you so afraid of anyway? It’s just trees.” “You literally just told me some ‘other mystery’ lies beyond them though, and now you’re trying to convince me it’s just your everyday average forest?” “Well that’s just it, Jenn. We won’t ever know if it’s average or magical, unless we take that leap of faith will we?” “More like a leap of insanity Cass, and magical isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe the vibe I get from this place...” “Well I am not content to just wait around for forever. Now’s a good a time as any, so you can stand there and wait for me, or you can join me.” “Please tell me you’re not serious, Cass.” Cassie took two steps back into the overgrown brush, and called out to Max to follow her. The dog let out a throaty growl. “Fine,” Cass said sourly, “you two scaredy-cats can keep each other company, for all I care!” and she disappeared into the shadow of the thickets. “Cass! I’m not playing with you anymore! Stop being ridiculous and come back to the house!” Jenn yelled after her sister. Only silence answered her. This is just like Cass.... For once though, just for once, why couldn’t she listen to me? Jenn sat down on the cold ground, close to the dog, “looks like we might be here for a little longer, Max, might as well get comfortable” if such a thing was possible, in such a place. To be honest, Jenn didn’t really know why the woods were off limits. She had heard stories of missing children, and dead dogs but, the dogs were all thought to have died at the hands of natural woodland things like snakes or cougars. The missing children, well, I mean, who hasn’t thought of running away from home at one point or another and just pitching a tent at the end of the world? Whatever the real reason was though, Jenn herself just didn’t like the feeling of being lost, and in the middle of a forest so expanse, that possibility was all too plausible for her liking. She looked up at the trees; at least 80 foot tall, and still growing. She suddenly felt smaller than she’d ever felt before. The trees seemed to bend and lean at strange angles, giving the sensation that they were almost craning their necks to look at her. The thought sent a shiver up her spine. And that’s when she heard it. The blood-curdling scream. Max immediately jumped to her feet and started barking out of control, “Cass!” Jen yelled, “was that you? Are you alright??!” A deadly silence followed. “Cass! I need you to say something! Do you need help?!” No birds chirping. No bugs fluttering their wings. No sound of her sister returned. Jenn took a deep breath, “I swear, if this is some kind of silly prank, you will pay for this Cass!” she said, as she took her first steps into the forest. Her heart racing as the light of day disappeared behind her. It was dark in the woods. Too dark, like night had already descended. With every step that she took, branches grabbed at her arms, thorns lodged themselves into her hands, and a layer of mud made her every step feel heavier. “I don’t even know which direction she went in” Jenn said, tired already, and clearly frustrated. “Cass! I’m coming for you, but I need to know where you are!” Jenn could hear Max barking in the distance, but the dog seemed a thousand miles away already, and Jenn had never felt more alone. It was a strange sensation for her, because from the very moment she even came into this world, she had technically, always had another person right beside her. She recalled learning her first words with Cass, and riding bikes in the park with her sister, and chasing after the ice-cream truck, why couldn’t they just have done something like that today? How was she even supposed to find her? Twin-telepathy? Hah, as if, that’s only an option in science fiction. The trees seemed to buckle even tighter, mocking her in her efforts. They twisted in grotesque ways, and seemed to stretch on endlessly into nothing but darkness. Except, in the distance, Jenn saw a small flicker of light. “Cass! Cass is that you?” she called, not even expecting an answer at this point. “Jenn! I’m over here! Come quick! Help me! I’m stuck!” Oh thank you, thank you! Jenn thought, Cass was here and had apparently just gotten stuck in something, maybe this ever-thickening mud, or an animal trap of some kind; this would all be over soon. “Hang on Cass, I’m coming for you!” Jenn yelled as she raced toward the flicker of light. As she got closer, the flicker turned into a more stable, and much larger, image of silver. The silver was reflecting the last bit of light through the trees, but appeared to be almost illuminated by some inexplicable internal light source itself. As she got closer still, she noticed that the silver formed into a very specific shape. A large, six foot, standing oval mirror. What was a mirror doing all the way out here? She wondered. As she approached closer, she saw that there was no dust or dirt or anything on the mirror, it looked like it had been pristine clean, and there were ornate designs all around the edges depicting things that looked either like vines or archaic writing. “Jenn! Help me!” She heard Cassie’s voice... coming from... the mirror? Jenn looked into the reflection. For a moment, she thought she was seeing her own. The same brown hair. Those same brown eyes. Until her reflection spoke. “Jenn! I’m stuck!” It took Jenn a moment to process what Cassie was saying.... How was it even possible... “In there?” Jenn asked... “you’re.. you’re stuck... in there?” “Yes” Cass snapped, “what does it look like??! I’m sorry, I know I messed up, can you please help me out and I promise I’ll always listen to what you say from now on!” “But... how?” Jenn asked, “How did you get stuck in there Cass??” “I don’t know Jenn! One second I was walking around the forest, like you, and the next I was looking at the forest from the other side of this mirror! Does it matter? I just want out!” “Can you just? Walk back through?” Jenn asked. “Yea, sure, like I haven’t already tried that” Cass said rolling her eyes, before walking to the edge of the mirror and placing her hand on it. “It won’t go through” Cass said. Jenn held her hand up to Cassie’s, and watched the mirror ripple like it was made of water, “Cass! Something’s happening on my side! It’s... it’s moving! What do I do??” “Can you try to pull me out?” she asked, “grab my wrist!” “What if I get stuck too though?” Jenn stammered, “can I just go back and get help?” “And leave me here all alone?!” Cass whimpered, “and how would you even find your way back to the mirror, Jenn! You won’t be able to find me again! Please just grab my wrist and pull me toward you! It won’t hurt! We have to try something!” “I’m just... a little weirded out..” Jenn said quietly, pulling back her hand from the mirror with a wince like she had touched a hot stove “what if it’s some kind of curse or something? You literally don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into... and I don’t want to be a part of it... and I don’t know how to get you out of it...” “You’re weirded out?!” Cass scoffed, “I’m the one trapped in a mirror for crying out loud! I know it doesn’t make sense, but I need you to help me! There’s nothing rippling or moving on my side, so you have to do it from your side!” Jenn took a deep breath and looked at the face in the mirror, all the fear rising up to her throat, because for once, Cassie didn’t even look like the brave one, she looked terrified. Jenn put her palm back to the surface of the mirror, the ripples swam from underneath her fingers. She applied pressure, and was shocked to see that her fingers went through the barrier easily like it was made of water and not glass. She wrapped her fingers around Cassie’s wrist, and was just about to yank them both back hard, when, instead, Cassie grabbed Jenn’s hand with her other arm and pulled. Jenn fell on top of the floor, next to Cassie, with a harsh thud, “What the hell did you do that for??!” Jenn yelled, “Now we are both trapped in here!” Cassie stood over Jenny, looking down with a cold stare, “No, my dear, only you are” and with that, Cassie placed one foot, then one leg out of the mirror, and stepped effortlessly into the other side. Her head still ringing from the fall, Jenn struggled to stand on unsteady legs. She ran to the mirror’s edge and placed both hands on it, pushing with all her might, but this time the pressure didn’t give, and the mirror wasn’t water, but solid glass. She banged on the edge between worlds with both fists, until her fingers turned purple with bruises. She screamed at her sister on the other side, bargained, pleaded, “Cassie! Please! Whatever kind of sick joke you think this is, it’s not funny! Please help me out of here! I want to go home! Now!” Tears started to fall down Jenn’s face, as she watched her sister shake her head “no” and turn her back toward her before walking off. She thought she could hear a dog barking somewhere in the distance, but over the sound of her own desperate screaming she wasn’t sure. She sat down at the table, smelling fresh-baked rolls hot from the oven, green beans steaming next to the ham. “Can you pass the butter please, mom?” she asked. “Sure thing, honey” Sandra said as she handed her daughter the tray, “and what all did you do today on your thanksgiving break from school? Hopefully enjoying the holiday?” “Oh yes, very much so” she replied, “me and Max played all day, but it feels good to finally be home.” “Yes, well I’m just glad you both made it in before the rain hit” her father said from across the table, “now let us say grace: Dear Lord, we thank You for this day You have made and this meal we have prepared. We pray that it nourishes our bodies, and gives us the strength to keep us safe from evil. We thank you for our family, for Max, Sandra, myself, and our dearly beloved daughter Jenn.” She smiled. Max growled from underneath the table. A low, defiant rumbling. “Amen” they all said in unison. The sound of forks scraping the plate and chewing ensued. “Hey mom?” she asked, “Yes Jenn?” Sandra replied, “I was just wondering... if you and dad had given any more thought to ya know, maybe adding any more siblings to the family table?” Sandra laughed, “Oh honey, you know that you have always been, and will always be an only child right??! But surely Max counts as family by now, too huh Jenny?! So cut your poor old mother some slack!” She smiled. It was going to take some time getting used to that name--Jenny. But what’s in a name? They can be changed as easily as the leaves change colors. Max started to bark. Louder and louder. Persistent. Aiming them all at the intruder before him. “Silly girl, I don’t know what’s gotten into her today!” Sandra said, “Max! Stop! Shoo, that’s Jenn, shoo! You can’t have her food!” The barking didn’t stop. “Can you please put that dog out, Sandra!” Gerald said exasperated, “I’m trying to enjoy my meal!” Sandra grabbed the dog by the collar, and let Maxine spend the rest of the night howling in the rain.


Every superhero story that you have seen or read about has two distinct roles: the Hero and the Villain. The Hero is viewed as hope, security, loyalty, and love, and stands as a symbol of protection against those that wish to bring harm. The Villain is regarded as evil, tricky, rude, irresponsible, and violent, and creates an environment meant to be hostile for everyone. Yet, the one detail nobody ever considers, is what if there are Heroes and Villains with the opposite qualities? Are they still considered “good” or “evil”, or does it become something different entirely? When Lady Phoenix (otherwise known as Ellie) arose from the ashes to become the city’s new Hero, people were hesitant at first. To have a superhero that controls a destructive element was considered odd and frightening. She proved herself worthy, however, when an arsonist attacked the city’s public library. People were trapped inside as wooden bookshelves began to fall, closing off any exits and chances to escape. Ellie had been walking the streets when she heard the screams and saw the smoke rising in the distance. She took a deep breath and turned down one of the many alleyways. Her heart pounded as she took off her civilian clothes and revealed her ‘costume’. It was a red, low-cut one-piece with orange sleeves and orange flames on her shoulders. Over her face, she wore a mask that covered everything except her eyes. Time was of the essence so she quickly hid her backpack and ran toward the scene. Firetrucks and other medical personnel were surrounding the building as she ran past them and into the awaiting fire. She assessed the damage and was able to locate the origin of the fire on the top floor. One of the perks of Ellie’s powers was her ability to see heat signatures meaning that the people were trapped on the third floor while the fire had started on the fifth. “Hey,” She called out towards the police who looked over at her in confusion, “Mind if I step in?” “Uh- “ Except, she didn’t wait for an answer. Walking confidently up the stairs, she burst open the door, and immediately her sight was covered in haze. She continued to sprint up the stairs until she was on the third floor where a group of people was huddled. They were coughing and the moment one person saw her, they all rushed forward. “Please! Please help us, the fire is getting stronger!” A woman cried out, a child crying next to her. “It’s fine, when I went up the stairs I extinguished the flames, you’re safe.” Lady Pheonix told them with a smile. “Now, go!” They all nodded and ran off as Ellie went directly towards where a mass of flames was raging on, books and window curtains ablaze. The thermal shock from the rapid heating of the building was causing the windows to begin to crack. As Ellie was weakening the flames, she ignored the frightened cries of the civilians as they were making their way down slowly (even though she told them to run). Ellie had told them to be quick but she didn’t have the time or energy to give them comfort right now. What would she say? That everything was going to be okay? She didn’t know if someone would perish or if the entire building would fold in on itself. Besides, these people knew that any generic Hero would say that line even if they are lying through their teeth. If there was a part of her that actually cared about the livelihood of these people, then of course she would be comforting them and placing their lives as a priority. Her train of thought was broken when she looked up and saw a young man racing towards one of the windows. She swore that everyone had left. “WAIT!” She yelled out as she sprinted towards him. As soon as he pulled the window up, it triggered a backdraft. Without thinking, she flung herself at the man as they went crashing through the window, the sudden change in air pressure causing the floor to explode into flames once again. She held onto him as her other hand will a rope to be formed from the flames in the building. Grasping onto the flames, she swung them down to the ground and gingerly let go of him. “Now,” She began calmly, watching as paramedics began to run towards them. “That was incredibly stupid and if anybody else was up there, they would be dead. I’m surprised I even took you out of the building after that. You need to think before you act, do you understand?” The man seemed to be in shock but simply nodded as she scoffed and ran back into the building. After quenching the fire on the lower floors, Lady Phoenix was able to rescue every human in the building. It was easy to become a Hero if you had the abilities to match it and that was exactly what happened with Ellie. The months following were filled with merchandise campaigns, public speaking events, planned rescue operations, and similar events meant to capitalize on the mutants that had appeared in the city. Nobody could pinpoint the precise reason as to why some individuals were granted powers and why others weren’t, but for those that were lucky enough to have these abilities, it was up to them as to what they wanted to do with them. Meanwhile, in a nearby borough, a Villain had been running from the scene with tears running down his face. He had been the one to light the place ablaze but couldn’t ignore the screams of terror from the people in the library. His name was Tendril, otherwise known as Carter, born with the ability to sprout vines from his arms and will poisonous thorns to grow as a protective layer. He hadn’t wanted to become a Villain but that was what life handed him, and that was what he was going to do. Tendril had joined a particular group of Villains simply known as The Devil’s Advocate (TDA). He had left home at the ripe age of 16 after paralyzing another student at his high school. He hadn’t meant to do it, but the victim was pushing him around in the hallways when Carter’s anger got the best of him. His tendrils had whipped out and wrapped around his waist, the thorns puncturing the lower part of his spinal column. The school was not happy, as expected, and he was expelled. The downside of being with the TDA had nothing to do with them, but rather with Tendril’s weakness. No matter what mission he was sent on, he would freeze up. Something within him cared about the people that he was assigned to get rid of and the moment he saw their faces, it felt as though he was being held at gunpoint. It would typically end with his colleague finishing the job, scoffing a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me', and then the two of them running to the awaiting getaway car. Carter wasn’t a bad kid; he was a good kid in a bad situation. This particular mission was to go to their weapon’s warehouse which was hidden in the back of a deli. The TDA got wind that some detectives got word of their operation and they needed to buy time to smuggle out the weapons. In order to ‘buy time’, Tendril was to immobilize any person at the deli and use them as hostages. The police would need to communicate agreements and set up perimeters giving them ample time to sneak out. Now, Tendril was standing above six citizens who were temporarily paralyzed on the floor. He was crying softly and the people were watching him with wide eyes, their mouths duct taped shut. Tendril had no idea what was to come. “Lady Phoenix do you copy?” A voice rang from Ellie’s phone, “We need you to check out something.” She glanced over at the phone on the couch and sighed as she picked it up. “Where’s the fire?” There was silence on the other end before the device was turned on again. “This isn’t regarding fire, actually. We need you to check someone out, an individual that may be involved with the weapon smuggling going on. You should be receiving an image through your tablet of the target. His name is Tendril, not too much is known about him except that he can use vines that have thorns attached to immobilize his victims. He hasn’t had a history of appearing on the front cover of news stories so I am assuming he is relatively harmless.” “Yeah, well, you never know.” She began as she reached for her tablet. There was a chuckle over the phone, “Yes it is still a worry, I’m surprised you didn’t ask if there were hostages.” Heat flooded her face as she began to feel flustered. “I was going to ask that but I figured you would just tell me.” “I’m just teasing you, Ellie,” There was typing on the other line before he let out a sigh. “But there are hostages, at least six of them. When you infiltrate, you’ll have to worry about whether or not they have the hostages at gunpoint, or in this case, wrapped in vines.” “Gotcha, I’m assuming you want their weapons gone?” She smiled as she formed a flame to dance around her fingers. “Yes, but try not to be too destructive. We still have to pay for any damages done.” He grumbled the last part. Ellie knew that time was of the essence and all she wanted to do, was finish up this mission and go back home. She got to the scene quickly, noticing that the police had yet to arrive. Slamming open the door to the deli; she instantly threw two fireballs at a man guarding the back door. He slumped to the ground and she grumbled about how pathetic he was before bursting through the next one. There, in the center of the room, was her target. His legs were shaking slightly and he was quite tall, towering above the six victims on the floor cowering. Looking a little closer, she noticed that Tendril had various vines wrapped around them with thorns sticking into their lower backs. “So, you’re the vine guy,” Lady Phoenix remarked, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m assuming that this is the first room of many for your little weapon situation?” “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Carter thought that would sound tougher out loud but he was wrong. “Right,” She said as a flame erupted in her hand, “If you don’t want to chat then I won’t bother.” Before Tendril had a moment to react, she threw the flames into the far walls where there were hidden doors leading to the rest of the warehouse. They didn’t have much money so the makeshift wall immediately began to burn before crumbling down. “What are you doing?” Carter questioned, his voice almost a whisper to his own ears. “Why are you lighting everything on fire?” Lady Pheonix turned around to look at him fully. “Your little boy band has been manufacturing illegal weaponry and there’s the whole hostage thing so you guys lost warehouse privileges.” The flames began to spread quickly, the wooden paneling fueling the fire. “But the hostages are still here!” Tendril squeaked, “I infected them with my venom. They won’t be able to stand for 24 hours. We need to get them out first.” Ellie shook her head as she formed a fireball in her hand. “Look, this was my priority and I can’t factor in the idea that they won’t wake up sometime soon so it’s being set ablaze right now before you start calling in backup.” “We can’t leave them, are you kidding me?!” Tendril nearly screamed, the flames growing with every passing second. “I can carry three and you can carry three, it’ll be fine.” “No,” Ellie repeated, “The fire is spreading quickly and there is no way I can save these people in time. Sacrifices have to happen, I said I would destroy the warehouse, and here I am destroying the warehouse. I’ll just say that I was fighting you the entire time and barely made it out with my life,” Lady Phoenix let out a dramatic sigh before smirking at the man, “You should be happy; you’ll get a reputation.” “I’m not leaving without them.” Tendril growled out firmly. Tendril stood up and gingerly helped one of the young men up. His knees instantly buckled, the venom in the thorns making it impossible for any of them to stand up. Carter hoisted the man over his one shoulder and motioned for one of the women to reach out. “This is ridiculous,” Pheonix scoffed. “The ceiling is starting to fall apart.” Tendril whirled around; his eyes furious. “Then why don’t you be useful and help me out here instead of accepting the fact that we won’t make it?” Ellie scanned his face and something within her ached to have that need to save someone, to have the drive to protect another human being. But all her head could do is view them as weak. Their fragile bodies and minds were drastically inferior to that of her own and the most they would get out of their lives would be marriage, a job that they most likely hate, and screaming children that you must answer to every second. Tendril began to cough, the smoke stinging his eyes as he desperately tried to wipe them with his bloody shirt. “The smoke is getting really bad; we have to move faster.” The fear had settled into a pit in his stomach as he looked around the room. Nothing could help them get these people out and if they die, it’s on him. “Cover your mouth and nose,” Ellie barked at Tendril as she took out a canister and rolled it towards the six people who were laying on the ground. They didn’t seem to notice it as the smoke had made the room quite hazy. Tendril watched in shock as they went unconscious, the smoke fizzling out. “You... you knocked them out? How is that going to help us at all?” “Well, if you were worried about being caught, that problem has been solved. They won’t remember this whole ordeal.” Phoenix calmly explained. Tendril glared at her as he poked her in the chest, “That wasn’t the problem you imbecile! The issue is getting them out alive not knocking them out so they can’t say anything. I’m getting these people out with or without your help.” He grasped onto one of the young ladies and hoisted her into her arms. In response, Lady Phoenix let out a low chuckle. “What’s so funny? They’re going to die!” Tendril croaked out, the smoke beginning to hurt his lungs. “Why do you care so much? You’re the Villain don’t forget, nobody is going to be thanking you outside of here,” She took a step closer to the man. “How did you even get to this point? I figured the other Villains would’ve eaten you alive by now.” His eyes narrowed as she smirked at him. “I’m good at what I do but I still give a shit when it comes to people’s lives, something you don’t seem very comfortable with. I would’ve saved them in a second if I was in your shoes.” She was silent for a moment as if she was analyzing him with a magnifying glass. Before Tendril was able to berate her further, she turned towards the flames and began to extinguish him. He watched in awe as the fire dwindled down to a spark. The smoke was still quite thick as Tendril let out a cough and stared at the woman in bewilderment. “You mean to tell me you could’ve done this the whole time?” She shrugged as she picked up two strangers and threw them over her shoulder. Ellie grasped one of the smaller ladies and held her bridal style. “I wanted to see what you would do, what lengths you would take to save them. Turns out, it didn’t take much. If I walked out of here without any of the hostages, my reputation would be through, and as much as being a Villain sounds tempting, I got bills to pay.” Carter was at a loss for words. Her whole inspiration to save them wasn’t because he had wanted to get them out of here, but rather for the persona she provides to the people. “I’d hurry if I were you, though,” she began, “The fire is still raging in the back and I can only carry these three so either you follow me with the rest of them or we’ll have to have a public funeral to remember the lives lost at your little warehouse.” The moment that the duo left the warehouse, several police cars and ambulances were waiting. The fire looked a lot worse from the outside and Tendril knew the moment he got back to the TDA he would be in hot water. Calmly laying the people down, he looked around a few times before sprinting away, ignoring the shouts of the police officers. Lady Phoenix watched as the Villain ran off, a small part of her wishing to have his empathy, not knowing that Tendril longed for the day he wouldn’t have to care anymore.


My fingers were tapping against the study table. My eyes kept stealing glances at the laptop’s clock- five more minutes. This was agony. I let out a restless sigh. The house was quiet, except for the soft pitter-patter of the rain outside. The scent of burning Eucalyptus and mint drafted through the room from our open kitchen; her new favorite. It was definitely helping with my anxiety. I tried getting back to my thesis but in vain. Two more minutes now. I could take it no more so I get up and walk around the bedroom. I fluff up the pillows on the bedroom and cradle Genie, our tabby. He wiggles a little bit but suddenly settles in my arms. It’s time. I sit on the edge of the bed as I hear the tranquil piano break the silence of the house. This was my favorite part of the night. She warms up with some arpeggios- something technical she taught me which I still don’t get. I just know it sounds beautiful. I hear the creak of the peddle as her foot presses onto it. It’s a melody now. Soft, sweet and slightly melancholic. It was the first song she ever learnt to play on her own, and quite honestly a classic in my opinion. Like her, I never get tired of hearing her play it. The atmosphere suddenly shifts to something moody, eccentric. I know it’s something on the black keys. Oh, she’s feeling adventurous today! The last time she played that tune, we ended up baking a pizza at 3 am, almost started a fire, and then ended up falling asleep on the couch in each other’s arms. I wonder what will happen tonight. Genie purrs against me, and I gently stroke him. He’s feeling it too, the anticipation that comes with her playing. We never know what song she’s going to end with. The tone is a bit more uplifting now, hopeful. It’s happier than anything she’s played in a while. I’m thrilled; it’s a new song. It takes me a couple minutes to grasp the soft, hesitant voice suddenly accompanying the music. Genie lifts his head for a second, he’s surprised too. She’s singing! It’s the song she’s been listening to on repeat for the past couple days now, I’ve heard her try to sing it in the shower. This sounds more melodic, more feely. She’s unsure, I can tell, but she’s not about to stop. I softly place my tabby on the bed, causing him to utter a sound of displeasure. I quietly pad out to the living room, and hide in the shadows in the hallway. Her body was rhythmically swinging with the music. I could tell her eyes were closed based on the way her head was tilted back ever so slightly. She hummed the high pitched portions of the song, and sang out loud the verses. All of a sudden her back stiffens a little bit, oh no. She knows I’m behind her. Her voice lowers in volume and her playing gets choppy. Well, no use standing back here now. I walk up to her just as she hits the final chord, and releases the peddle with a loud clack. “That was beautiful.” She turns around on the seat to face me. I kneel down in front of her, and hold her tiny hand in mine. “Not really, I can’t hit the high notes.” She mutters shyly, looking down at our tangled hands. “So what, still sounded absolutely spectacular.” I look into her wide brown eyes. She smiles her half embarrassed, half proud smile. It was a private smile, reserved just for us alone. I raise our hands, and press a gentle kiss to the top of her hand. Her smile widens, and she leans down to plant a kiss on my cheek. “I love you.” I cradle her face with my free hand, and gently press my lips to hers. “I love you too, my dear.


“We do not know what these creatures are, but they are wreaking absolute havoc on the United States. We’re umm also getting reports that other countries are experiencing this same phenomenon.” Wolfe looked so...mortified. My grandma watched CNN when he was on, and he always seemed so professional, and said his words so matter-of-factly, and here he seemed like he really didn’t want to be where he was. But hey you can’t blame the guy, I still had a few tears running down my cheek. “The US military has been put at DEFCON 1, and the government has issued instructions for all civilians to stay in their homes, and to stay off the streets if at all possible.” Yeah no shit Wolfe. But then he stopped talking. Well I should say he was more listening into his little earpiece and trying to focus on what the person on the other end was telling him. Wolfe muttered a small “are you serious?” And shortly afterwards, he looked back at the camera, appearing more horrified than ever. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have just received word that a-“ Wolfe cut out. The screen went black and was followed by that ear-splitting ringing of the Emergency Broadcast System. After a few seconds of the beeping, a voice came on, saying “this message has been transmitted at the request of the United States Office Of Civil Defense. At this time, the United States government is launching multiple nuclear ICBMs at targets within the continental United States. Areas of impact include Boston, Manhattan, Philadelphia, and Indianapolis. If you are in any of these areas you are advised to get out now. If fleeing is not possible, go to any underground shelter. Impacts will occur within the next fifteen minutes.” The beeping began again, and then the broadcast was over. Wolfe Blitzer didn’t return to the screen. Instead the live coverage was now nothing but the CNN logo plastered on the screen. I bet Wolfe was getting the hell out of there, along with everyone else. “What do we do now?” Someone in the back asked. 11 Months Later You know those zombie or alien invasion movies where world governments topple like a house of cards when things go to hell? Well, this isn’t that kind of movie. The creatures caused some pretty hard hits, and most third and second world countries did fall. But America didn’t. The biggest cities were left abandoned when the creatures took over, and the last few millions of Americans moved into smaller regions of the country. Small towns became large communities of people. The new house of government was in a small town in Kansas. Most military bases were still up and running, which was good, and every able-bodied man and woman seventeen and over were drafted into the United States military to help the war effort. Yes, these creatures could be killed, but not by our bullets or explosives. The reason cities were overrun is because the bullets wouldn’t even penetrate their skin, and explosions only seemed to make them wince. But that’s when our luck changed. We survivors started hearing a rumor that an old lady somewhere in western America was able to kill one of these things with an antique fork. This woman earned herself the nickname “Lady Of The West”. It turns out that the story was true, and people wondered why a fork could kill them, but not bullets. Well, turns out that it’s because the fork was made of silver. Silver seems to be their goddamn Kryptonite, and anything silver that touches them makes them howl in pain. And when we started making our bullets out of silver, oh man it was REALLY over for them. We began taking back cities. Small at first, like Little Rock and Oklahoma City, but now the military’s got their sights set on a bigger city. We were gonna take back Seattle. Now I, having turned seventeen three months ago, had to go on this mission. I had killed quite a few of them up till now, but Jesus they still scared the shit out of me. “Hey Phobia, you want one?” My platoon buddy, Mark, called out to me, holding a peppermint in his hand. We were on a plane headed to the outskirts of Seattle, where we’d parachute down, along with hundreds of other soldiers, and try to take back the city. Phobia was my nickname, given to me due to my extreme fear of these creatures, whom we now nicknamed “Demons”. We soared thirty-five thousand feet above the ground. The hum of the engines actually kinda soothed me for some reason. I played with the safety setting on my rifle, which I was holding in my lap, while we flew. There were about forty other people in this plane, ranging from seventeen to somewhere in their thirties. I didn’t have many friends now. I left all of my friends in my past life, before this hell. Even Mark, who I would say I’m closest to, I wouldn’t really consider a “friend”. On the way there I thought about my past life. Both of my parents died at the hands of the Demons, and I was left an orphan. I miss them. I miss my old school. I miss Ethan, who I haven’t seen since I left the school that day. I don’t even know if he’s alive. A voice came over the sound system in the plane. “Two miles outside of the drop-point.” The pilot said. “Alright ladies, we’re almost there, get the hell ready!” Our platoon sergeant said. About thirty seconds later, the back of the plane opened up, revealing a dark, windy night sky. “On my mark!” Serg said. “Three...two...one!” And he jumped. Everyone else followed, one by one. Eventually it was my turn, and I jumped. The wind on my body was so cold. I formed my body into a diving position as to fall faster, and I caught up with the other soldiers that had jumped. Not long after, our parachutes opened, mine yanking me back, giving me slight whiplash on my neck. We landed on an abandoned interstate littered with cars. I could hear the faint sound of other planes above us, dropping more and more soldiers. We were instructed to not have any light at all, and we were instead supplied with night-vision goggles. I strapped mine around my head and turned them on. I could see everything now, the cars in front of me, lined for miles. There were also dead bodies in the road that had been rotting for a while, and when I looked up, I could see hundreds of men parachuting down onto the ground. Each unit that joined the assault was given their own orders, their own route to take into the city. We were gonna try to surround the city, boxing the Demons in. “Stay low, follow my lead.” Serg said, and we all followed him. The only sounds were our footsteps, animals and small critters near us, and the occasional sound of someone bumping into a car or stepping on a body. I could see the city, it’s buildings were all mostly intact, but there were small plums of smoke rising from some of the buildings. When we reached the inner city, we walked quietly and were told to wait until all the other units were in position before we rose hell. There was a sound from behind us. We all aimed our weapons in unison, almost as if we had practiced for it. We were standing in an alley on the outskirts of the city, and we really didn’t wanna start shooting yer unless we had to. Then, a dog appeared. A big, mange-ridden dog who was digging in a dumpster at the end of the alley. I was about to be relieved it was just a dog, before I heard a gasp and then a BOOM!, and the dog fell over dead in a spray of blood. “Oh shit.” I whispered to myself. Some dumbass in the group panicked and shot the damn dog, and just like we all expected, the sounds of flapping wings and deep growls closed in on our position. Serg could only speak three words by that point. “This isn’t good”.


The man on the bench had a cigarette dangling from his lips and held a phone in his hands. The smell of smoke filled the air, and a visible cloud hung over him. He was laughing at something on his phone - a video, perhaps, or a cleverly captioned photo. Something hilarious. A rat ran out from beneath the bench and climbed into the overflowing trash bin behind him. He saw nothing but whatever was on his phone, and his laughter grew louder every minute, punctuated more often than not by a cough from the depths of his blackened lungs. Above him, some crows looked down curiously, perched on street lamps that were turned on and humming despite the late afternoon sun. The man’s face was drenched in sweat, and purple veins throbbed against his forehead like little asthmatic worms.The way he gasped for air before each laugh; the way he had to really suck it in before shoving it right back out with a convulsive guffaw that shook the bench. People walked toward him on the sidewalk, but instead of smiling at what might have been contagious laughter were the circumstances slightly tilted, they stopped and crossed the road before continuing in their set direction. The heat was suffocating. The news had said today was one of the hottest days on record. The pavement simmered. The video - it was definitely a video, people could hear the music and the quickly morphing voices - continued on, and the screen of his phone was moist with perspiration from both his brow and fingers. His laugh was so loud, now, that shopkeepers were watching from their windows, the air-conditioning just barely keeping them cool, the suspicious rattle of these summertime machines keeping them fearful that the heat might get them yet. A crow cawed, and more came to join them perched atop the streetlight, which shimmered in the blinding sun. A dozen or so crows; a murder. The video played on, and the laughing grew and grew, his body vibrating with it, and the harsh miasma of cigarette smoke traveled down the nearest sidewalk, through winding alleys, into an apartment building where a couple had been fighting through sweat and violence, shouting about how they needed to get the fuck out, now, l*et’s go somewhere before we have no choice, no, it’s too late, smell the decay, we’re as good as dead.* And then, just like that, a loud pop and the man’s laughter stop.s The sound of his phone hits the pavement and breaks the short silence. From the ice cream parlor across the street, a woman licking the side of a dripping cone opens the door and looks outside, screams. Around the bench, gore litters the street and sidewalk: an ear here, an ear there. Blood like water from a tangled hose: drip, drip.The man remains on the bench, slouched now, hands to his sides. His neck, open and exposed, raw nerve and tendon. On the ground next to his phone, his eyes, both eyes, lay still and sad, trailed behind by crimson rectus. From the dumpster emerges the rat. It crawls down the metallic surface to the floor, picks up an eye and runs off. The street is silent, the sun is hot, and the crows fly off in search of cooler trees.


“So...what do you do for fun?” he asked awkwardly. She just laughed. “You’ve never been on a date before, have you?” He copied her laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not much of a people person, you know?” “I get that. It’s okay, I’m just messing with you.” They continued on their date, laughing and bantering with each other. There were moments of awkward silences, or as they called them, “silences.” These two were normally quiet people. But they were okay with that. The silences were just that. Silences. There was no awkwardness in them. Were they awkward people? By society’s standards, yes they were. But when they were with each other, they could be themselves. No longer were either of them wearing masks, hiding the quiet, sad people they truly were. That said, they weren’t quiet or sad with each other. They were free. They could be who they truly were. More importantly, they could be who they were meant to be. The silences, and their comfort in those silences, showed that they were comfortable with each other. And, even though it was never said, it was understood that if they weren’t saying anything, the company was still appreciated. It was more about being with each other than what they were doing or saying. That mattered more to them than anything else. Having someone who understood. They had gone most their lives without someone who truly understood them. People try to understand, at least the good ones do. But no one ever really does. But none of that mattered now. They had each other. They were together, united, working for one another. A month went by and nothing had really changed. A lot of relationships tend to lose that initial bit of spark after a while. They both knew it was coming, but it hadn’t yet. They didn’t focus on that though. Instead, they kept hanging out with each other, going to dinners, going to movies, spending time with one another in any way they could. Some days they talked more than others. But still, it never mattered what was said or how much was said. There’s a common quote that “Actions speak louder than words” and their relationship was proof of it. They knew what they had was love, even if it was never said it. By being there for each, by showing they cared, they proved how they loved each other. How could people who had met just a month or two ago be in love though? Well, it’s simple. It depends on one’s definition of love. For them, love was being able to care for someone more than oneself. Having someone in one’s life who gives meaning. Gives purpose. For so long in their lives, they were surviving, not living. Now, they each had something, someone, to live for. They knew how much they meant to each other and, because of their own past, knew not to take that for granted. They were two souls truly destined for each other. They were spending the night, her laying in his arms as they watched a movie. He kissed her on the head, something he had never done before. Neither were really the “physical” type. That wasn’t what made them work. She took special notice to that. “What was that for?” she asked blissfully. “I never really say it, but you mean so much to me.” She blushed, but didn’t say anything. “You’ve given me something that I never really had before.” “Oh yeah,” she replied with some snark. “What’s that?” “Happiness.