Mindfulness vs. Mindlessness The room is a cool green, minty, or aquamarine, a colour which encourages the atmosphere of comfort and relaxation which, I believe, because I am told, is central to any mindfulness therapy. We are told to close our eyes and think about our bodies in relation to the chair, the floor, the ceiling, the window; anything really, except the other people in the room: those others (why are they here?) whose eyes dart about, who shift uneasily, who avoid eye contact. We are asked to imagine that we are walking beside a river, to imagine the sound it makes and the effect that this has upon us. O.K. A river...erm.. 'sparkles'. No. That's what water looks like when the sun shines on it. We are supposed to be thinking about walking beside and listening to a cool, gently- flowing river...and nothing else. This is the essence of Mindfulness. I surreptitiously glance at my phone and look for 'noises water makes'. Google obliges. ' A brook or stream or river babbles or ripples or even burbles. 'Burbles'... The word 'burble' was first used in the 1300's, and it probably comes from an imitation of the sound a rippling, bubbling brook makes.' I look up and catch a grimace (not a frown, just a glance of quickly-hidden disapproval) from our therapist, and I guiltily slip the phone back into my pocket and close my eyes...concentrate. On not concentrating on anything. Why didn't anyone tell me it's hard, really hard? I have been sent here to write an article for a magazine about natural health. Apparently, mindfulness is the key to lowering stress levels, getting to know our pain, connecting better, improving our focus, and being kinder to ourselves. Mindfulness may lessen the emotional experience of pain.... If you find, as many of us do they say, that you are 'stuck' in a cycle of wanting things not to be as they appear to be, you can realize that now is the time for you to be kind to yourself, to love and accept yourself. However, acceptance does not mean that you have to be happy all the time, that you have to become a hedonist and abandon your principles. You need to be willing to see things as they truly are in the present. You need to be open to and accept whatever you are feeling, thinking or seeing. This is the way forward, towards healing, and growth. I reach for my phone again (how am I going to get through this hour?) This time I type (in my pocket. Very proud of this skill...) 'How does mindfulness help?' The answer: 'With the correct application of mindfulness, specifically, the connections between the fear-responsive amygdala and rest of the brain weaken, while those between the emotionally-regulating prefrontal cortex and rest of the brain are strengthened......these changes suggest that mindfulness lessens reactive and fearful responses and enhances thoughtful appraisal of events .” But...aren't “reactive and fearful responses” useful survival techniques? When a giant hyena, a cave bear or cave lion or even a giant, predatory kangaroo loomed, burbling and slathering, out of the prehistoric mists, wasn't it precisely these responses (namely fear, followed by running away) that ensured the survival of the species homo sapiens? I drag myself back to the present. I do my best to be present. I'm perfectly willing to give it a try, if all I have to do is think about nothing but the noises a river makes when it burbles. However, I never dreamt it would be so difficult. Actually, I have never, to my knowledge, had any mental health issues. I'm just a little bit proud to state that I thrive under stress. Stress (such as that which is put upon a violin string) tones the mind, instead of letting it get flabby through under-use. I don't really get the part where you are supposed to think of nothing. When a thought comes into your head, you are supposed to accept it courteously, then let it go. One wonders...Why? 'Mindfulness is the basic human ability to be fully present, aware of where we are and what we are doing. Apparently, the ability to be 'mindful' is something we all naturally possess: we just have to tap into it, suspend judgment, approaching our experience (of nothing?) with warmth and kindness to ourselves and others. 'To be fully mindful, we need to learn how to disregard what is going on around us. You are being mindful when you bring awareness only to what you are directly experiencing through your senses, here and now.' Plucking up all my courage, when we are invited to share our first experiences of the practice of mindfulness, I venture a question: “Erm, excuse me ... but is it not a little... er, mind-numbing? And, I might add, impossible? I can't think of 'nothing'. Nature abhors a vacuum.” Our mentor fixes me with a crinkly-eyed and disciplined smile, and responds with the tiniest hint of condescension (or is that the impression just 'me', I ask,.. a trick of the mind?) He answers. “Might I say that our next session will lead us towards the power of meditation Meditation is a close relation of, or, might I say, a descendant of mindfulness. It is exploration. It is not a fixed destination. Your head doesn’t become vacuumed free of thought, totally undistracted. It becomes a special place where every moment is momentous, every consequence has consequences, every event is eventful. When we meditate, we venture into the workings of our minds: our emotions, our sensations, our thoughts. For example, we take time to pause and breathe when the phone rings instead of answering it. Today, we have taken the first steps towards this freedom from the oppression of the apparently urgent...” I suddenly feel ashamed and convinced of the sincerity of our crinkly-eyed mentor. He is genuinely helpful to many of those who hide their sadness in our complicated and perplexing world. I thank him, and, clutching my phone, I gratefully plunge out of the room, the silent room, into the vibrant world of bustling, noisy, multicultural and cosmopolitan London: resilient, aggressive, kindly: a world of museums, rivers and bridges, boats, birds, concerts, cakes and ice-cream. I decide to experience, directly, through my senses, here and now, all that is on offer.


It's almost seven in the morning. Stephan's lying on his bed with his eyes on his alarm. He's been awake for almost thirty minutes for now. He's just been staring at the alarm clock since then. He needs to be at his new work at ten o'clock. It's his second day as a call connector in Bangalore police department control room. The alarm starts ringing. Stephan sighs and gets off his bed. He goes to his kitchen and prepares his coffee. He walks towards the balcony with his coffee mug to watch the streets. He sees his neighbor Brad mowing his lawn. Both Stephan and Brad wave at each other and continue with their work. Stephan gets back in. On his way to kitchen Stephan passes through a window located beside his bed. There was an old warehouse located behind Stephan's house which was visible through that window. He was terrified of it because the warehouse was full of bats. Long time ago when he was a teenager his father threw his new phone into the warehouse because he was angry that Stephan was spending more time with it. When Stephan went inside it to get back his phone he was terrified by all the bats hanging through the ceiling. So he never went there again. Years passed and time's changed but Stephan always had his little fear towards the warehouse. Stephan looks at the clock and it's almost nine. He starts hurrying because he can't be late for work. He skips his breakfast and put on his clothes. He wears his shoes and floods towards the door to get out going. He locks the door from outside and starts walking but, suddenly he remembers something and decides to go back. He runs towards the door again and opens it. He goes in and takes his cellphone which he had forgotten. He comes outside and locks the door again and starts walking towards the street corner. Brad still mowing his lawn shouts laughingly " Late again, huh? ". Stephan - "You wish ". Both of them smile at each other and Stephan moves away. In the corner of the street Stephan sits waiting for his bus. Stephan looks at his wrist watch to know how late he is. Suddenly he hears a thud behind him. He looks back frightened. He sees a white old RV truck parking in front of the old warehouse. The driver gets off the vehicle and looks around, he sees Stephan staring at him with a complex expression on his face. The driver- " It's cool if I park my truck here for a while, right? " Stephan -" You don't seem familiar". The driver - "No I'm not sir, I'm just here to deliver a shipment". Stephan senses the bus arriving. Stephan (smilingly) - "Enjoy the city" Stephan gets on the bus and takes a seat. On the way Stephan starts to think of his work. He never wanted to work as a call connector. He had applied for the post of a police officer trice and he had failed each time. When he got the offer to work in the control room, he took the job because he knew that it was the only way he could work for the police. Working for police ment a world to Stephan as he thought that it was the bravest job. He was heartbroken when he failed all the tests but he believed this job was his new chance. That was before yesterday. Yesterday was Stephan's first day at work and he saw the absolute reality of how police actually works. He was very disappointed and disheartened by the fact that his seniors were so lazy. He started to drift towards his past life but he suddenly notices that his stop has arrived. He gets off the bus and walks in the Bangalore PD building and takes the elevator. The control room is situated in the seventh floor of the building. As he reaches his floor he takes a view at the scene of his work place. "Disgusting" he thinks to himself by looking at the computers and telephones that are in the room. He walks towards his chamber and plugs his cellphone in for charging. Gretta his co-worker sits on the chamber behind Stephan's and says "We have a problem ". Stephan looks annoyingly at Gretta and says " Now don't tell me that Captain Ribbon is mad at me because I'm seven minutes late". Gretta stares blank at Stephan's face and says laughingly "No, Laura was caught drunk yesterday in working hours". Stephan -" Laura? you mean the clerk?". Gretta - "Yes, and Captain's really mad at her. She might get fired". Stephan - "Well, good for her". Both Gretta and Stephan gets on their work. Every worker in the station starts getting calls. Calls of the whole city emergency affairs. They get call for every irregularities in the city including sewage, electricity, burglary, fire or anything. The employees often get tired at the end of the day by connecting tons of calls. Stephan puts his telephone down exhausted. He looks at the wall clock at the office. It's almost five in the noon. It's the end of the shift. He sighs and looks over at Gretta. She's still attending someone's call. Stephan checks over his personal phone and starts packing up. Suddenly his telephone starts to ring. Stephan gets annoyed. He looks at the clock. It's not five yet. He grunts and sits back in his chair. He picks the call and says in an annoyed tone "100, W h at's your emergency ?". He hears a disturbance in the call. "Hello, this is 100 what's your emergency please? ". Now he hears nothing. Just a plain silence. Stephan says loudly "Hello?". He again hears some disturbance in the call. He decides to disconnect the call but as soon as he was about to take the telephone off his ears, he hears a girl screaming "Help". Stephan is shocked. He gets pushed back by the anxiety. His quick panic catches Gretta's attention. She moves over to him. Stephan lashes out at the telephone " Hello? Can you hear me? hello". By that time the call had been disconnected from the other side. Stephan looks at Gretta with a confused face. He looks back at his telephone and tries to take out the call history in panic. Gretta - " Dude, what happened?". Stephan still looking for the history, explains what happened. Gretta laughs hysterically and says "Welcome to Bangalore PD". Stephan angrily stares at her and says "What? ". Gretta - " It might just be some teenagers trying to pullout a prank on us. Last week Tyler got some similar call and he sent a Officer Louis and his whole team to a location. Then they were told it was just a prank by a bunch of teenagers". Stephan shockingly asks "What happened then? ". Gretta - "Well, The pranksters were arrested and then they were bailed out by their rich parents. Captain was really mad at Tyler because he fell for a prank. Stephan still out of his breath says "Well that didn't sound like a prank to me. I could sense it". He looks at his telephone and says "Why wouldn't the history show up in this trash? ". Gretta points towards the clock and says " The shift has ended dude, the call history is saved in the servers. You can't get them out now. Only authoritarians have access to the server". Stephan shouts "What the hell?". Gretta says while calming him " Calm down buddy and don't shout, we both get fired if Captain hears any of this". Stephan says " I swear that sounded true. What if someone really needs help?". Gretta answers "It's your second day at work. Don't get soo tensed. The shift is over. Everyone's leaving the building. Probably you should too". Gretta walks towards the elevator and leaves. Stephan is still sitting in his chamber. He's still shocked with that tone of voice he heard from the call. Captain Ribbon walks in and sees Stephan sitting in his chamber. "Why are you still here? " Captain asks. Stephan stutteringly replies " I'm uhh working for over shift Captain". Stephan regrets saying that soon after he says that. Captain just stares at him for a moment. Captain- "Well, looks like its only you and Ms. Laura here tonight. Have a good night ". Captain Ribbon walks into his office and leaves with his briefcase. Stephan sits down on his chair with his hands up and eyes closed. Disgusted with himself he chants "I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot". Laura on the other side of the room laughs hysterically and says " Why would you do something so dumb?". Stephan angrily replies "Speaking of dumb, aren't you supposed to be fired?". Laura- "I am getting fired. But I have to work two shifts today to make it for paycheck". Stephan feels sorry for her and says "I'm sorry". Laura says smilingly "It's okay. I didn't think it was rude". Stephan asks her " Why would you drink alcohol in the working hours?". Laura - "Cuz I'm addicted. Do you have any problem with that young man? ". Stephan- " Do I look like I do?". Laura smiles and continues with her work. Stephan looks down and notices that he hasn't been getting any calls since the second shift started. Stephan - "Hey Laura! why am I not getting any calls now? ". Laura - "Oh! Well that idiot Ribbon has stopped the server at the end of first shift. Nobody's working for the second shift today but you showed up". Stephan - " What am I supposed to do now?". Laura - " Well I do the paper work but, if you really wanna work for Te second shift I can open the server again". Stephan freaks out and shouts exited "You have access to the server?". Laura replies frightened "Jesus Christ, watch your voice. It's just you and me in tears building so don't scream". Laura takes out a inhaler from her bag and takes two puffs. Stephan moves over to tell other side of the room near Laura's work table. Stephan - "I'm really sorry to freak you out but, do you have access to server? " Laura - "Well, yes but why?". Stephan's eyes fills with happiness and he says "Listen, can you please get me access to the call history of the last shift please?". Laura smiles hysterically and replies "Well, we'll get fired if we get caught doing that. The call history is not to be manipulated". Stephan interrupts her and says " Well I don't wanna manupulate it. I just want to note a contact number I received and you are getting fired tomorrow anyhow right?". Laura looks in Stephan's eyes for a moment and says "Alright, here's the access card. If you get caught, you stole from me. Alright? ". Stephan laughs and says "Deal. Now just one more favor. While I'm in the server cabin, just warn me if anyone comes in the building". Laura - "Don't you worry about that. At this the of the night, not even ghosts come in this building". Stephan thanks her and gets inside the server cabin. He swipes the access card and activates the BPD server. He then starts the access computer and opens the call history. He selects his cabin number in the layout to obtain the call records of his system. He gets a spreadsheet on the computer screen showcasing all the calls he got in his first shift today. He tries to find his last recived call but he sees that list is mixed up. So he decides to search for the time of call. He remembers that he saw clock before picking up the call. It was almost five. So he searches for calls from the relative time. He gets four numbers in the time between 4:55 to 5:00. He takes a photo of the numbers through his phone and shuts down the server. He gets out of the server cabin and sees Laura working with her papers. Stephan - " You won't speak about this with the Captain, would you? " Laura smiles and replies "Not if you buy me a beer sometime". Stephan smiles at her and leaves the building. Stephan looks the photo he took and tries to call the last number. Stephan knew what to do now. He had a friend in a private networking call centre who he knew could help him. His friend's office was twelve blocks away from the PD building so Stephan started walking faster. Stephan was happy and proud after a long time because he was doing some real police work rater than sitting in front of a computer. Stephan finally reaches his friend's office. He walks in and looks around for his friend. He sees him and calls out "Daniel!". Daniel hears Stephan's voice and looks at him. He walks near Stephan. Daniel -"What are you doing here in this time?". Stephan - "Same as you. working". Daniel gives a wierd looks and asks "You're working on field? You're supposed to be connecting calls right? ". Stephan interrupts him and says " I need a favor". Daniel -"What do you want?". Stephan -"I need you to track a call for me". Daniel laughs and says " Dude, you work in a control centre of BPD. You can tap a call faster than us". Stephan annoyingly says " Yeah. But I wanna track it not tap it. The call's already done ". Daniel -"Oh, okay. follow me". Daniel takes Stephan to his office cabin and opens his computer. Daniel -" Give me the phone number". Stephan opens the photo he took earlier and says "Here, track the last one". Stephan passes the phone to Daniel. Daniel notes the number and runs a check on it. Daniel - "Alright buddy, now I can only say which tower is the call connecting to". Stephan with an annoyed look says "Well, what good is that?". Daniel sighs in dissapointed and says "Well genius, if we find out which tower the network's coming from, we can find out the area the phone's located in". Stephan - " Alright then. Find it". Daniel - " Okay, so. have you tried calling back to this number?" Stephan says "Obviously. It's switched off". Daniel -" What's it all about anyway?". Stephan explains the whole story. Daniel's computer makes a noise. Daniel looks towards the monitor and says "Looks like the track is completed. The tower from which the call was connected was 'ZER6' tower which is located in Tangent street". Stephan got even more curious and says "Tangent street, that's my neighbor hood . Where in Tangent street?" Daniel - "Slow down officer. I can't find out anything else about this call because it's an old call and a short one too". Stephan gets depressed by the fact that he can't know anything else but still mocks his friend and says "That was not really a valuable information from you ". Stephan and Daniel laughs and walks towards the door. Stephan -"Maybe I'll try calling it one more time". Stephan reaches the phone and tries to call the last number again. Stephan -" Daniel can you recite me the last number so I can dial it?" Daniel walks towards his monitor and recites the last phone number. Stephan shouts "Are you kidding me?". Daniel asks with a confused tone "What?". Stephan takes out the photo he took in the server and verifies the number. Daniel still confused asks "Dude, what? ". Stephan - "It's my number. The number of the phone my day threw in the warehouse when I was thirteen. But how? ". Stephan looks at Daniel. Daniel's still confused. Stefan runs towards the door and leaves in a blink. Daniel tries to stop Stephan but he leaves too quickly. Stephan started running towards Tangent street. He knew there was something wrong in the warehouse. Stephan finally reaches the street corner. He leans forward on his knees to catch is breath. He looks at the warehouse. It looks like a horror house. Although he was terrified of the warehouse he wanted to go in because this mystery was killing his brains. He opened the door of the warehouse and turned his mobile flash on. Some bats flew right in Stephan's face. Stephan fell into the ground terrified. He crawled in keeping his head down. He saw a white thing in the dim light of his phone. As he moved closer, he was shocked by what he saw. He saw the white truck inside the warehouse the same one he saw this morning parked in front of the warehouse. Stephan decided to do what he has to do. He took a metal rod and broke into the RV. There was absolute darkness in there. He turned on the lights and he saw a small girl with his old phone in her hand connected to a charging cable. The girl was bruised and she was unconscious. Stephan called Laura immediately and asked her to inform Captain Ribbon about this. He carried the girl outside and waited for few minutes and then police arrived with an ambulance. Stephan's old phone was taken away as evidence and the driver was caught in the nearby motel. Captain Ribbon comes towards Stephan and says "Overshift huh?". Stephan looks at Captain's eyes and fearlessly says "Prank calls huh? ". Both of them stares at each other for a moment and then laughs together. Captain Ribbon - "Good work " He moves towards the ambulance. Stephan gets a call from Daniel. Daniel - " Dude where are you?". Stephan -" I figured it". Daniel -"No you didn't. The call you asked me to track didn't even connect to your telephone during your shift. You just missed the call completely and the number was recorded in the history. The call you picked up was not that one. In the photo you took you can see the timing of the server. It's been setup five minutes early. So the server has been shut down five minutes earlier before you even got the call. So we don't really have the number that you wanted".


Alma Perdida stared at the abstract popcorn ceiling above her. With her arm extended out, she finger-painted the air, trying to connect the popcorn dots. Alma was waiting for a figure to reveal itself. Twirling her fingers, she finally lined up a shape to which she thought resembled a face. Smirking and releasing a small breath of triumph, Alma sat up from her squeaky twin sized mattress. Alma made her way into her bathroom --- a whole three steps to the right of her bed. As she flipped on the bathroom light, the mirror revealed dark bags under her eyes and quite a messy bun. Alma stared at herself for a solid minute. She skimmed her cheeks for clogged pores and glared at the mole that made its home above her left eyebrow. Intoxicated with her negative body image, she sighed and reached towards the cabinet for her medication. As her fingers grazed the prescription bottle, a bing came from her phone. Alma left the bathroom and looked at the notification. The screen read, “Happy Birthday Onawa! A Gift from Your Local Coffee Shop!” A grin grew across Alma’s face. It was not her birthday today, but she decided she would accept the gift of a free coffee on behalf of Onawa. Alma slid on a pair of sandals, grabbed a soft brown jacket from the floor and headed out of her cramped studio apartment. As Alma made her way down Fugue Avenue, she scanned the street, and happily watched the people around her. She glanced at the store to her right for a brief millisecond, and before her attention was focused back to the street, her gaze returned to the store window. Alma stopped walking and curiously looked through the glass. There was a middle aged woman staring back at her from inside the store. The lady was in a strange outfit --- a fancy coat, pink pajama pants, and flip-flops. Her hair resembled a bird’s nest --- coarse with stray hairs everywhere coming out of a bun. Alma was confused as to who let the lady leave the house looking like that. She waved at the lady awkwardly, and the lady waved back at the same instance. Alma smirked at the timing of their wave, and turned back to the sidewalk ahead of her. The coffee shop was two stores away. This was Alma’s first time ever going to the shop, since she does not drink coffee. As she opened the door, a familiar sounding whimsical alarm went off. Alma quickly scanned the shop. There were three mirrors on each wall, with typical coffee shop art hanging in between. From behind the coffee shop’s counter, there was a young man named Guia, who wore a 5 o’clock shadow. It was Guia’s one month long attempt to grow facial hair, as he was trying to get rid of his notorious baby-face. “Good morning, Onawa! Happy Birthday!” exclaimed Guia. Was it possible that Onawa came to claim her birthday beverage at the same time as Alma? She looked behind herself, but there was no one else entering the shop. Alma was confused, but pretended to know the young worker. She smiled back at the baby-faced man and stared at the menu. The mocha latte seemed to pop out at her, but she was unsure what that drink was. “Typical mocha latte?” Alma’s eyes widened. This worker must be a mind reader of some sort. She nodded to the mocha latte suggestion. Guia grinned and began to make the birthday drink. As Alma was waiting for her beverage, she glanced along the coffee shop walls and she was surprised that her eyes met someone. Another customer must have walked in, but Alma did not recall hearing the whimsical alarm. She must have been preoccupied with the menu at the new customer’s time of arrival. The new customer had a mole that was hard to miss on their brow. Alma tried not to stare at it for courtesy reasons, but the mole stared back at her. Bird nest styled buns must be of a new style, because the customer was wearing one. Strangely, the customer had on a brown coat with pink pajama pants and flip-flops... It was the same lady that Alma encountered through the store window. Alma was trying her best not to be rude and stare, but she could not help to judge the lady. What was bothersome, was that anytime Alma looked away, the stranger would look away too. It was as if the stranger was mirroring her movements. “Fancying our new mirrors? We thought we could give the shop a more modern vibe... By the way, here is your latte! I added 3 pumps of sugar free vanilla--- just how you like it, Onawa.” Guia handed Alma the latte. Alma slowly grabbed the drink. The worker must have been mistaken; she was not looking at a mirror, she was looking at the stranger --- and she had no idea what 3 pumps of sugar free vanilla meant. Alma turned away from Guia and once again caught eyes with the mirroring stranger. The lady now had a drink in her hand. Alma wondered if the stranger had a drink this whole time. Maybe she overlooked the beverage due to the crazy outfit of the stranger. Alma looked away from the stranger, making eye contact with only the ground, and walked quickly to the shop door. Leaving the stranger behind her, Alma took a sharp right turn and started walking. She noticed that people were staring at her, but she did not understand why. She nervously took a sip of her latte. Her taste buds rejoiced and she had a sense of familiarity. The latte was a perfect choice for her “birthday” beverage. Ignoring the weird stares, Alma came across a bench which faced an empty store building that was recently a boutique. As Alma made her way to the bench, her eyes met a reflection in the store window. With her mouth wide open, she could not believe what she saw. Was it just a coincidence, or was she being followed? Alma was looking at the stranger once again, and the stranger was looking right back, mocking her with the gaping mouth. “Are you following me?” remarked Alma blatantly. The stranger did not respond, but still mirrored her movements. Alma’s heart fluttered. She made her way closer to the stranger, and the stranger walked towards her. Alma’s sandals got caught beneath her, making her trip and hit the ground at an abrupt pace. After realizing that she tripped on her sandal, she looked right and left for the stranger, but the stranger was gone... Alma saw that a sandal was a couple feet away from her. It flung off of her foot during her journey to the ground. While she stared at her exposed foot, her eyes made their focus to her legs. She was wearing pink pajama pants. Strange, because Alma did not remember putting them on. Alma flinched as something was poking her. She slid off her fancy brown jacket and noticed that she had a name tag on. It became unpinned and was softly stabbing her chest. She ripped off the name tag and blankly stared at the name. It read: ONAWA. Alma shuddered and flung the name tag, which conveniently landed in a puddle. With instant regret, Alma folded herself over to fetch the name tag. She wanted to make sure she read it right. As she reached for the name tag, Alma peaked at her reflection. In the puddle, the stranger looked back at her, with the monstrous bun, the mole, and bags under both eyes. The reflection was not a stranger at all. It was Alma...who was in fact Onawa. Onawa let out a shriek, as she was unaware that she was suffering a psychological episode of dissociative fugue.


"Welcome to Valentine Password, the game show in which couples compete for the length of one dinner. Three couples are given a free dinner at a fancy restaurant, but they are unaware of hidden cameras throughout the establishment. If either one in the couple says a series of three password phrases, they'll win an all-expenses paid trip to Bora Bora. Let's get to know tonight's couples." "Couple number one has been dating for two and a half years; they met on a dating website called "The Magic Touch," and they're presently looking for apartments where they might move in together; meet Carl and Becky." "Couple number two has been married for five years and have been together for eleven years; they have no children but a cat named Calisto that they adore; one is a lawyer, and the other is an unemployed actor; meet Jeff and Simon." "Couple number three has been together for forty years and will be celebrating their 32nd wedding anniversary next month; they met in middle school and have two children together; meet Dan and Alice." "The Valentine's Passwords for tonight are "thinking," "lucky," and "I love you." A couple will receive a point if one of them says a phrase. They win the trip if they say all three! Let us join the dinner that is already underway," said the host. Carl and Becky are sitting in a restaurant, staring into each other's eyes. They don't even notice the waiter has brought them some bread to snack on. "Something happened today that totally made me think of you," DING, Becky continued, "Jennifer, at work, got flowers for lunch from her new boyfriend; I remember when you did that for me on my birthday." "That's funny, sweetie; I'm the luckiest man alive to have you at my side." DING "That was unexpected; Carl and Becky have taken a surprisingly strong lead, gaining two points in one conversation. Let's check in on couple number two, shall we?" Said the host. Jeff and Simon have already placed their orders and are settling in. "I am completely stumped by this case today; an office manager was found with $10,000 from his office and was arrested for stealing, but he said he didn't steal the money." "Why are you stumped?" "He's a pillar in his community; why would he leave it in her car for all to see, and how did the secretary know he was the one who took the money?" "It reminds me of The Crucible, a play I once performed in, in which a man has an affair with the maid and is set up for a crime by his mistress when she is fired. I'd examine the secretary." "An affair, I didn't think of that. I'm lucky you were in that play!" DING "Couple number two is off to the races, so they get one point. Let's have a look at couple number three," said the host. Dan and Alice haven't said anything to each other since they arrived, and they're now finishing their soup and bread. "Oh no, the main course is about to arrive, and Dan and Alice have barely spoken. What's this? It looks like Dan might be about to say something...." "Pass the salt?" "Welp, it appears that Dan and Alice will have difficulty winning that trip; they have 0 points, and the dinner is just about halfway through. Let us return to Carl and Becky and see if they can get that last point," said the host. Carl and Becky are now eating their main course when all of a sudden; Carl receives a call on his cell phone. Becky gets sight of the screen, which reads, "Angela." "Who is that?" "It isn't anyone. Just someone I work with." "How come you've never brought her up before?" "It's never come up, and she's new there anyway." "Why don't you take the call? Are you afraid to pick up the phone in front of me? Are you scared of what she'll say?" "We're eating dinner; I'm not going to answer the phone while we're eating." "Call her back; it must be very important if she's calling after hours." "Can't we simply eat? I swear you're insane; you get jealous over the smallest things that mean nothing!" "Call her back, Carl!" "I'm not calling her back!" Becky throws her napkin on the table. "I need to go the bathroom," Becky says as she storms off. "Uh oh, with only one point to earn to win the trip, Carl and Becky have hit a little snag in the game. Let's check in with couple number two once again," said the host. Jeff and Simon have now got their main course, Jeff is eating a steak, and Simon is eating chicken. "This chicken is quite excellent. When I was in A Streetcar Named Desire, they served me this horrible dry chicken during the dinner party scene. If they had given me this chicken, I wouldn't have minded so much." "Uh-huh." "You know, the community theater is bringing back A Streetcar Named Desire next season; I feel like I could still play Stanley; maybe I should audition." "Uh-huh." "You don't think I should audition?" "I never said that." "You never encourage my acting; do you want me to work as a store clerk or something?" "I didn't say that, either." "You didn't have to; every time I talk about my career, I know precisely what you're thinking." "Are you going to tell me what I'm thinking now?" "What are you thinking then?" "You have to be real sometimes, too. You haven't had any parts in over a year, you can't reach your agent, and the last time you were paid to perform was in a toothpaste commercial over two years ago." "I don't want to talk about this anymore; just eat your steak." "That's quite a turn of events for Jeff and Simon. They scored a point very fast during the dinner, but they also encountered a major hurdle in winning that trip. Let's check in with Alice and Dan once more," said the host. Alice and Dan also have their entrees and eat quietly, enjoying their meal and soaking in the ambiance. Dan finished his Bolognese and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "How was it, hun." "It was good, yours?" "A little gamey." "Oh." "Well, that conversation is riveting; let's check back in with Carl and Becky," the host said. "I'm going to take an Uber to my sister's house tonight; feel free to invite over anyone you want!" "You're insane; I thought we were watching the rest of that Netflix documentary?" "I don't know, why don't you call your whore and watch it with her!" "Yikes, what started out as such a promising dinner for Carl and Becky has turned into an utter disaster. Let's check in with Jeff and Simon, my odds-on favorites to win the trip, now," said the host. "You know what, the next time I perform, I just want you to stay at home and not think about it." "Great, next time you're cast as an audience member in an infomercial, I'll pass!" "That was one time!" "I think that's it for couple number two; yet another promising night has ended in disaster. I suppose we can check in with Dan and Alice; perhaps they can earn a point by accident," said the host. Dan and Alice finish their meal, and Dan pulls out his wallet to leave a tip. They stand up from the table without saying anything. Dan helps Alice by putting on her jacket; then Dan puts on his coat. "We were lucky to win this dinner; it was nice." DING "I was thinking to myself, you deserve a nice evening out." DING "Thank you, hun. I love ya." "I love you too, always and forever!" DING "Oh my god! In an upset that hasn't been seen since the "Miracle on Ice" in the 1980 Olympics, Dan and Alice have won the trip to Bora Bora! A couple that said no more than 15 words to each other the entire dinner won the game! It simply goes to show that after you've been together long enough, sometimes a few words are all you need.


Somewhere in the backwoods of Arkansas, thirty miles southwest of Hot Springs rests a quiet little town called Glenwood. Not much happens here, according to most peoples knowledge. However, this collection of short stories is not about your run of the mill common folk, and believe me they are just as real as they are surrealistically absurd. Most of these tales are the sum of highly intelligent and morally ambiguous individuals fueled by drugs, alcohol, and a strange sense of chaotic pack mentality, and I being fortunate and sober enough to bear testimony to these bizarre events. But don’t get me wrong, I am no innocent bystander amidst the chaos. Often times if you were brave enough you could find me somewhere in the fray, adding my own unique color to the sea of ambiguity. Due to some disconnect with the ways of the world, and their unwillingness to bend in the wake of society’s ever changing whims, they often found themselves in too deep and over their heads, but managing by some miracle to come out on top smelling like a rose. EARLY LESSONS. It is my belief there are three major events in a young boy’s life that let him know he is coming into his own as a man. 1 Losing your virginity. As a man the loss of your innocence marks you as an accomplished individual in the eyes of your peers. To the naive late bloomers you appear as a caterpillar that has emerged from a cocoon of wisdom with some other-worldly knowledge that you can’t acquire without firsthand experience. 2 Getting behind the wheel of a car alone. Nothing is more thrilling than the first few inches of pavement passing precariously between you and the barely functioning, half ton metal death machine, and the realization of the power you wield while careening down the black top. 3 The ultimate lesson. The third and probably most important, albeit least recognized event, is the epiphany that the people responsible for bringing you into this world do not have the infallible wisdom they believe themselves to possess. This tale being the nature of the third This story fell into my lap one mild fall evening after the whiskey had once again dampened our lips and freed our tongues from the chains of modesty. Cigarette smoke hung in the still night air like a looming fog, and the porch lights soft ambiance provided a contrast to the grating uproar that had begun around the small plastic table rattling dangerously around the wooden porch, threatening to spill the last of the ever dwindling manna that kept us in good spirits. Then suddenly a victor rose above the noise to claim his rightful crown as the evening’s story teller, and sole witness to the epic stupidity that befell him as a child. D. See, was a young boy around the age of five during this event. His father began a short drive home from a gentleman’s softball game. The 1973 Pontiac Ventura II had its wing vent open while the engine rumbled out in a low loping tone, barely minding the speed limit.Then out of nowhere, a thud emanated from the driver side wing vent, causing a generous application of the brakes. D. Sees’ father flipped on the cab lights to investigate the back seat before the vehicle managed to come to a complete stop. To his surprise a moderately sized screech owl had the misfortune of being sucked into the cars’ wing vents, and hurled into the back seat, where it lay dazed from the impact. Now any rational man would simply toss the creature out and keep driving, but that was far from what happened. For reasons known only to Mr. See, he captured the creature in his softball mitt and spent the rest of the drive home trying to figure out a way to profit from his new found avian friend. It wasn't until he had placed the poor feathery bastard in a cage and achieved a full night sleep did his long unforeseen dreams of being a falconer come to full fruition. Nearly by reflex I interjected in the face of the blatant ignorance that would soon come to pass. “You can’t be serious?” My glassy eyed cohort turned to me in his stupor, but the gleam in the back of his vision revealed the utmost sincerity with his reply. “I’m serious as cancer buddy.” A roar of laughter ensued from the crowd. “So what happened next?” Came an impatient slur from another intoxicated crew member on the edge of his seat. “I’m getting to that.” D. See said with some unusual clarity as he poured another shot to build dramatic tension. D. See kicked back the whiskey with ease, and then released a refreshing sigh, slapping the shot glass onto the table. “Roll me a fat one while I talk.” The group obliged, bringing forth the tribes designated joint crafter to work his dexterous magic into the item their temporary chieftain coveted so dearly. “Now where was I again?” D. See leaned back in his chair with a finger over pursed lips as his eyes fell back to that distant haze of nostalgia. Mr. See awoke that morning with a gleam in his eyes as radiant as the dawning sun. With the glee of a child on Christmas morning he hurried off to his work shed to prepare his “falconing attire.” This included the following: Bailing twine, an apron, and elbow length welding gloves that looked more like gauntlets. After securing the gauntlets with bailing twine Mr. See, was ready to begin training. The owl was ready too. It had spent the entire night stewing on the fact it had been flung into a cage that sat in the back of a rundown school bus, for reasons it could only begin to guess at. The owl heard the approach of Mr. See, and knew the plan it had concocted to make its daring escape were moments from inception. Mr. See opened the back door to the school bus and gingerly flipped the latch to the owls’ cage. The thing made no attempt to resist but kept a keen eye on Mr. See as it was lifted out of the wired prison. The owl made a quick assessment of the surroundings looking left, then right, then back to Mr. See, who was beside himself at this point. Then the creature unleashed its wild rage upon its captor all at once. It craned its neck around and bit through the welding glove with the force of a sledgehammer, latching itself to Mr. Sees’ thumb. The man howled in pain and tried to release the offending critter, wanting nothing more to do with it, but the thing refused to let go. Mr. See bolted through his front yard, arms flailing wildly, with the screeching bird in tow. At that point Mr. See found himself next to a large oak tree, and proceeded to beat the little bastard senseless against it until the enraged animal released his thumb. Finally, the owl unhinged its vice like grip and flopped to the ground where it shook off the daze. The owl ruffled its feathers as a last act of defiance before it flew off into the morning sunrise, leaving D. Sees father to lick his wounds.


Ten-year-old Hamesh sat at a table in his grandmother Bibi’s kitchen. He was reading one of Bibi’s books on magic, a subject Hamesh’s parents never allowed him to discuss while he was home. “Bibi is a powerful and wise sorceress,” they told him, “but her power comes from the Old World, which even she knows is dying. There is a reason she did not teach magic to her children.” Bibi didn’t teach magic to Hamesh either, but she did let him read her tomes and patiently answered his questions. He knew never to tell his parents about what he learned during his visits to Bibi’s cottage in the enchanted forest, but this silence with his parents was worth the treasure of the times he spent with his grandmother. Bibi, who always looked much livelier in her cottage than she did when visiting Hamesh’s home, was preparing dinner at the oven while Hamesh read. He was reading about a rare lizard whose scales could be used to fashion impenetrable armor when heard a wooden spoon clatter on the floor. “Bibi!” Hamesh cried, dropping his book and racing to his fallen grandmother. The old woman clutched her chest. “I must rest,” she whispered as Hamesh led her to the bedroom. “I’ll run to town and get a doctor,” Hamesh said after he put her to bed. “No,” she commanded. “I know what sickness ails me, and it can’t be healed by any human medicine. There is only one cure - you must find moldunberries in the forest.” “Moldunberries,” Hamesh whispered. Earlier that evening he had read about the miraculous healing properties of these berries. “Where do I find them?” The old woman shook her head. “I have seen moldunberries in this forest so I know there must be a bush somewhere, but I’ve never found it. Only the woodland creatures know where it is, and they are too scared of my power to reveal their secrets to me. But you... yes, you.” Bibi smiled at Hamesh. “They won’t be afraid of a small boy like you. You must convince them to tell you where to find the moldunberry bush.” “How could I do that?” Hamesh asked. His grandmother’s books hadn’t told him how to talk with animals. “It’s impossible!” “You’ve been listening to your parents too long,” the old woman said as she patted Hamesh on the head. “Listen to the voices of the woodland creatures and allow them to speak. The words will come to you.” Bibi shuddered and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “You must go, now. Find the moldunberries, before it is too late for me.” The boy stepped back from the bed, afraid yet somehow certain his grandmother was correct. Had he not read about wonderous powers in her tomes? Learned about potions that could give strength to the feeble and speed to the halt? Spells that could allow men to fly like birds or swim with dolphins? Herbs and roots that could make men fall in love or heal a broken heart? If Bibi could do all the things in this book, as Hamesh’s parents had attested, why should he doubt her if she believed Hamesh could accomplish this task? Taking a pouch from the kitchen, Hamesh went into the forest. He walked until he came to the log of a fallen tree, the top portion scarred by a lightning strike during a storm the previous night. On top of the log was a squirrel, running down one end to the other. On hearing Hamesh approach the squirrel turned to the boy and chittered loudly, but did not run. Hamesh stopped and closed his eyes. He remembered from his grandmother’s book that each creature in the woods had a secret name. He then began to chant: Squirrel, master of tall trees, tell me your name, so that I may speak with you “I am Scurry,” the squirrel told him. “And who are you?” “I am a boy who seeks to cure his sick grandmother. She needs moldunberries, but I don’t know where to find the bush that bears them. Do you know where I can find it?” “I would help you,” replied Scurry, “but I must help my family. We had been storing nuts in a drey on one of this tree’s branches before the tree was struck by lightning last night. My family and I were able to escape, but when the tree fell it landed on top of our drey. Our food is now gone, and we must find more before we perish.” The boy looked at the fallen tree. One of its branches had broken off during its collapse and lay nearby on the forest floor. One end of the branch had split into a jagged point, resembling a spear. “Scurry, I can help you recover your family’s store of nuts from under this tree.” “Impossible!” cried Scurry. “The strongest man in the world couldn’t move this tree on his own, much less a boy like you!” “I shall move this tree,” said Hamesh, “and then you shall tell me how to find the moldunberry bush.” The boy lifted the branch, carrying it to the fallen tree. He then dug the spear-pointed end of the branch deep into the dirt beneath the log and pressed his shoulder into the underside of the branch’s other end. Pushing forward, the boy used the branch as a lever that rolled the fallen tree aside. “The drey!” exclaimed Scurry. “And my family’s store of nuts! You have saved us, boy.” “And I must now save my grandmother. Tell me, Scurry, where to find the berries.” “I will tell you,” said Scurry, “though I wish I had better news for you. The moldunberry bush is guarded by a bear who will slay anyone who enters his lair. Turn around, boy, for your grandmother is doomed, as you shall surely be if you continue this foolish quest.” “I can’t let my grandmother die,” Hamesh protested. “There must be some way to get to the bush without being killed by the bear.” Scurry thought a moment. “I’ve heard that the rabbits in the fields adjoining these woods can grab moldunberries from the bush without being captured by the bear. Go seek them.” Hamesh thanked Scurry for his help, then ran off. Hamesh then came onto a large meadow, where he found a colony of rabbits. All but one turned and fled into the high grass as Hamesh approached. The boy stopped and chanted: Rabbit, master of broad fields, tell me your name, so that I may speak with you “I am Burrow,” the rabbit told him. “And who are you?” “I am a boy who needs to steal moldunberries from the bear so that I can heal my grandmother’s sickness. But I don’t know where to find the bear, or how to stop him from killing me.” “Even if I told you our secret, it would do you no good,” Burrow replied indignantly. “Only we rabbits are able to defeat the bear.” “If I beat you in a footrace, will you tell me?” “Impossible!” said Burrow. “The fastest man in the world can’t outrace me, much less a boy like you!” “I shall beat you to the river,” said Hamesh, “and then you shall tell me how to defeat the bear.” With a laugh, Burrow raced ahead of Hamesh. Both Burrow and Hamesh knew the fastest way to the river was through the woods, but the trees that had fallen during the storm blocked Burrow’s path. The rabbit was delayed as it had to go around, climb over, or slither under the obstacles. The boy, on the other hand, was able to leap between the fallen logs without once breaking his stride. When he reached the river he turned and balled his fists into his hip, waiting for Burrow to arrive. “You are a swift lad, and clever,” Burrow said. “But you lack the speed and wit to defeat the bear.” “But I must save my grandmother,” Hamesh demanded. “Tell me, Burrow, how you defeat the bear.” “The bear is fast and powerful, but not smart,” Burrow explained. “My people force him to chase us, and we struggle to stay outside the reach of his terrible claws. Fortunately, we are small and difficult to catch, and the bear’s strength eventually fails him. He then naps, and that is when we take from the moldunberry bush. But you are too large, boy, and the bear will have no problem catching you. Turn around, for your grandmother is doomed, as you shall surely be if you continue this foolish quest.” “Tell me where to find the bear,” Hamesh demanded. “I shall honor my promise,” Burrow explained. “Follow this river upstream until you come to twin boulders. Go west from the boulders for half of a league until you see a barren hill. Under that hill is a cave with the bear and his berries.” Hamesh thanked Burrow for his help, and began walking upstream beside the river. Hamesh found the twin boulders and headed west. The forest grew darker with each step he took, but in the twilight he was able to find the barren hill. Hamesh then heard an awful growling, and knew he had arrived at the right place. A massive black bear rumbled to the entrance of a cave. Hamesh closed his eyes and chanted: Bear, mightiest beast of the forest, tell me your name, so that I may speak with you “I will not tell you my name,” the bear replied, “for I am hungry, and shall eat you now for my supper!” The bear charged at Hamesh, who ran away with all his speed. Yet the boy knew the bear was faster and would certainly catch Hamesh before it grew tired and needed to nap. Hamesh thought of the magic he had learned in his grandmother’s books... surely he must have read of some spell that could help him escape the bear. “Grumble rumble stumble!” yelled the bear. “I’ll cut off your head and cook it in the oven, boy!” “I’m hungry too,” said a small voice from the bear’s cave. Hamesh looked back, and saw Scurry nibbling on a berry. “These moldunberries are delicious!” “Grumble rumble stumble!” yelled the bear. “I’ll tear your tail off and boil it in a stew, squirrel!” The bear charged at Scurry, who climbed up a tree and out of the fearsome creature’s reach. “Now there’s a sight,” proclaimed another small voice. Hamesh looked and saw Burrow perched on top of a rock. “A boastful bear, defeated by the smallest of creatures.” “Grumble rumble stumble!” yelled the bear. “I’ll rip your ears off and fry them in a pan, rabbit!” The bear charged at Burrow, who was just fast enough to stay out of his reach. Hamesh rested and laughed as he saw the bear’s gait slow with weariness. “Be gone from me,” the bear finally said to Burrow. “You’re too small for my supper anyway. I’d rather feast on this boy!” The bear chased after Hamesh again, but the boy knew now that the creature did not have enough energy left to capture him. “Grumble... rumble... stumble...” the bear moaned. It was now walking, head hanging low. “A squirrel, a rabbit, and a boy, defeating a bear. It is -” the bear fell to the ground - “impossible.” And then the bear’s eyes closed. “Hurry!” Burrow cried, running up beside Hamesh. “The bear will not long slumber.” Scurry met them at the cave’s entrance and led them to the moldunberry bush. After Hamesh filled his pouch with moldunberries he gathered more for Scurry and Burrow. “We have food enough to feed our families through winter,” the animals said when they were finished. “Thank you, boy.” “My name is Hamesh,” he told the creatures. “And thanks to you, my grandmother will be well.” The journey back to Bibi’s house was long, and Hamesh had more adventures before he finally stepped back into the cottage. His grandmother was still lying in bed, her face pale as she slept uneasily. Hamesh shook her shoulder. “Bibi,” the boy whispered. “Wake up. It’s Hamesh. And I’ve done what you’ve asked.” He took one of the moldunberries from the pouch and placed it on his grandmother’s dry lips. Bibi’s eyes opened, and her lips drew the moldunberry into her mouth. She then crushed the berry with her teeth, and Hamesh could smell the sweetness of the juice that coated his grandmother’s tongue. “You’ve done well, my boy,” Bibi said, color returning to her face. “You’ve done very well.”


trigger warning- death Miriam sat in her car and waited for the shock to wear off. She’d always known it was a possibility that the family she worked, for would decide to send their youngest child to that awful academic preschool down the street, but to be told it was a certainty felt like a slap in the face. Why couldn’t parents understand the harm that occurred in those types of school environments? Nothing about formal learning in preschool is necessary for later success. Play is enough. Miriam thought of sweet little Brody, and tried to picture him at that horrible school. It was gut wrenching to imagine his happy, free spirited self being forced to conform. Instead of climbing trees and skipping rocks, he’d be sitting at a desk, tracing endless worksheets. He would be forced to accept just one right answer, where he was used to finding many possibilities. Brody would be working for gold stars, or rather red stars, because those terrible teachers graded each worksheet with red pen. His learning should come from internal motivation, and not from the promise of a red star. Most baffling of all, Brody would be trading fresh air and sunshine for a classroom that smelled of mildew. She always wondered why all those wealthy families were willing to overlook the obvious mold problem in the building, just so they could say their child attended Silver Years. Why were they all so giddy about sending their children to a place that sounds more like a retirement home than a preschool? Young children are designed to learn through play. Science supports this notion. Play is enough. Of course, it wasn’t all the parents’ fault. Silver Years preyed on the false parental fears that their child will show up to kindergarten already behind in life. That just isn’t possible. Children are unique, and they develop at different rates. Kindergarten is a beginning. There is no way to be behind at a beginning. Children shouldn’t be assessed in this manner, anyway. Children are supposed to play. Play is enough. Miriam was disappointed in herself for letting Brody down. She had worked so hard to provide him with the childhood he deserved, while simultaneously trying to educate his parents on why play is so vital to development. She had been one of his primary caregivers from the time he was 2 weeks old, and truth be told, spent the most time with him out of anyone, every week, for the last 4 years. Miriam made it a point to immerse him in nature right from the start. Now, at nearly 5 years old, he could identify all of the common local birds by song and sight. He was thrilled each time he found deer tracks, and was fascinated by the little bones he could extract from owl pellets. Brody loved to go into the woods, and just be. He didn’t need anyone to tell him how to play or what to do. He was a master at entertaining himself, and inventing his own games. He was observant, and empathetic. Brody adored worms, slugs, and beetles. He was strong, physically, and mentally. He didn’t give up easily. Brody knew how to stand up for himself, and also how to be fair with others. He could write all of the letters of the alphabet, and knew what sounds they made. He was even beginning to learn sight words. He developed these skills purely through play, because play is enough. Miriam had been the family’s nanny when their third child had been a student at Silver Years. She remembered how Chloe had cried and pleaded with her parents not to make her go for the entire first 6 months of the school year. Chloe had to be bribed with treats at the end of each week if she went without fuss, and even then it was a lot of work getting her out the door. Miriam remembered how much Chloe’s physical endurance had suffered while she attended that school. She was pale, with sunken in eyes, and tired easily. She had been 4 years old and should have been a bundle of endless energy, but she was weak from sitting on her butt at a desk day after day, week after week. She should have been outside, moving her body. She should have been playing, because play is enough. Miriam opened the door and vomited onto the snowy street. She couldn’t bear the thought of that happening to her sweet Brody. Why hadn’t she done more to stop this? Why hadn’t she better articulated that all a child needs to be kindergarten ready is plenty of play? How had she failed so terribly in spreading the message that play is enough? Miriam shifted her car into drive. Acting on autopilot, she pressed the gas and the car began to roll down the hill. Miriam was so deep in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice that her headlights were off. Her mind was racing. It was true that parents who chose academic preschools for their young children thought they were giving them a leg up. They were doing what they felt was best. Miriam couldn’t just let it go though, because she knew that all of the research showed that there are no long term benefits to early academic training. Children who go to academic preschools score higher on tests, initially, in kindergarten (who cares! Kids should not be tested in kindergarten!), but by 3rd grade, there’s no difference in scores, and by 6th grade, those who attended academic preschools tended to score lower on tests, and have more behavior issues. Boys, of course, struggled the most, and Miriam was watching this pan out with Brody’s 11 year old twin brothers. The older boys are not motivated to do much of anything. They were already burnt out from years of high pressure formal learning, especially because they started that when they should have been playing. The twins were afraid to try anything new if they thought they might fail. They were strict rule followers, to the extent that it was a detriment. They had zero ability to be flexible in their thinking. If the twins had been allowed to play in their preschool years, they would be better off than they are now. Miriam knew this in the depths of her soul, because play is enough. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to stay on as the family’s nanny come fall. They had offered to pay her for full time hours, and allow her to have a few paid hours off during the school day, but Miriam didn’t know if she could go through with it. Having received no raises in over 2 years, she was extremely underpaid as it was. She didn’t want to watch Brody turn into a worksheet tracing robot. She didn’t want to be broke, AND miserable. Her heart ached to think of Brody’s absence in her daily life if she were to quit her job, but dropping him off and picking him up from that dreadful school 5 days a week wasn’t something she wanted, either. Play is enough. Miriam shook her head in disgust. When will parents learn that play is enough? She turned onto Main Street. Lost in her despair, Miriam blew right past a stop sign. A pickup truck going 60mph t-boned her car, killing her on impact. As emergency crews arrived on the scene, the first thing they heard was a clip of the podcast Miriam had been listening to, stuck on a loop. The host repeated one sentence over and over again: “Play is enough!”


It’s been months of tracking and they finally caught up to him. Xanthan and Montauk advance ahead of the group in pursuit of the hooded man. “Montauk wait up!!! Don’t go in alone” Xanthan exclaimed. “We need to hurry, we can’t keep letting him get away!” Montauk responded with his focus straight ahead after the hooded man. Xanthan has never seen Montauk this determined, this tunneled vision. All that mattered to him at this moment was catching this man. They are chasing him through a dense forest. There is tight vegetation on the ground with a maze of tall trees surrounding them with thick branches that slapped them across the face as they ran. The moonlight is barely able to seep though. Xanthan can only see nothing the Montauks back as he strides ahead of him, and he soon loses him. Xanthan can feel something is off, but Montauk was using all his energy to chase this mysterious man down. Whatever the case Xanthan wanted to be sure to be by his side. Montauk ran enough to eventually exit the bunch of trees only to be meet with a steep rock formation. He snaps his head up to see the hooded man already on top, staring back down, as if he was waiting for Montauk to catch up. Their eyes meet, and then the hooded man continues his escape. Montauk now seems more determined than ever and starts to leap with great superhuman height up the mountain, all while Xanthan struggles to keep up. Montauk reaches the summit, but the chase was over. The man is there waiting, bathing in the moonlight with his hooded cloak dancing in the cool night breeze. “What is this? Why? Why are you here?” Montauk ask. The man answers with a question “Do you know where we are? We are where the stars touch the earth. Where reality fades and the only thing left is the eternal breath of the universe.” Montauk, with nothing but regret and anger filling his eyes, glares at the man. The man continues “You know where this is...” Montauks glare does not break, and he makes up his mind to advance forward to confront the man, but his first step leads him to a different dimension. He is transported to an all black void, with nothing around but the slight shimmer of a endless puddle beneath his feet. The puddle casts a perfect inverse image. He is stunned for a small moment, then the hooded man’s voice echoes behind him, “Please Gabriel, we can’t keep doing this to ourselves” “Don’t call me that!” Montauks snaps back “I didn’t do this to myself! You did, and it has haunted me ever since. And know that I have you here, I will end this.” Montauk runs up to the man, which disrupts the reflections beneath him, and grabs his collar, but he dissolved into smoke. This angers Montauk and he frantically looks around, eyes darting across the void. Then he hears a slight whimper, and focuses his attention and sees a young boy on the ground with his head in his knees crying. Montauk lowers his guard and walks up to the side of the boy. The boy continues his soft cry. He hesitates on how he wanted to talk to the young boy, but he doesn’t want the boy to keep crying so he ask him, “what’s wrong? Do you know where you are?” The boy looks up, with his big eyes watery and nose red, “I’m lost...” the boy responded “I was playing with my brothers and sisters, but I went too far out and got lost. I tried finding my way back but i couldn’t find my way back.” The boy rubs his eyes, and Montauk decides to join the young boy and sit beside him. With his big burly shoulders in contrast to the boys tiny frame, with both their reflections extending beneath them. “I gave up on trying to find my way back so I just stopped, and hoped that my family will find me. If I stay still and they look at all the usual hiding spots they’ll eventually find me right.” Montauk can do nothing but listen, and his eyes begin to fill with emotion, but not of sadness, but of despair and emptiness. What he has been blinded with for as long as he can remember. “It’s cold and I’m getting scared they may never find me.” The boy looks at Montauk and they both share eye contact, both their eyes being two sides of the same coin. “Did they stop looking?” The boy asking Montauk directly Montauk didn’t have an immediate answer, which lead the boy to fall back into his arms. Montauk reaches out to place his hand on the boys shoulder. He hesitates about half way through, but continued to establish a physical connection with the boy. The boy looks back at Montauk, and Montauk finally has an answer for the boy. “I don’t know where you siblings are, or where we are... but I found you. I can help you look for them if that’s what you would like? I will make sure I get us outta here” The boy wipes his tears from his cheek and sniffs his nose and simply nodes. Their reflections at another glance become inverse of eachother, with the Man casting the boys and the boy casting the mans. They both stand up and Montauk holds the boys hand as they walk towards the dark abyss. Neither one of them knowing what lies ahead, or behind, but knowing that they will do it together.


We rushed through the wooden door and slammed it shut. The thing gave a loud thud against the door that shook the frames and made the hinges screech, but the door held. I quickly poured salt under the door's threshold. “I think this will hold it back for a time. We’re on the third floor so I'm hoping the thing won’t come leaping through the window,” I exclaimed with a sigh. Before I could catch my breath, I felt her lips and her breath filling my lungs and giving new vigor to a faint heart. “Thank you, I can’t believe you’d actually help me. I thought I was a goner,” she said with the shimmer of her tears in the pale moonlight. My heart had been racing from the chase, but now it was calm again. “I was wondering why you left without a word months ago, I figured you were ghosting me or something... didn’t think you were running for your life.” “You know me, lady of mystery!” she joked with a forced smile. “You don’t have to do this you know.” For a moment, the months on the run showed their strain on her face. The stress wrinkles around the brow of another wise young 28-year-old woman. She felt the weight of those months all at once and collapsed onto the leather chair by the bookshelf. “I know, but in all of those months, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re here in front of me now, and I’m not losing you again. Come sickness come hell or whatever,” I declared. The hell began to snarl from the other side of a wall across from us. “What is that thing anyway? I can hear it, but I can’t see it.” “It’s not here for you... but I can see it,” she responded with a despondent voice that trailed off at the end as if she wanted to keep the last part a secret. “I made a... a deal with someone I shouldn’t have and now this thing has come to collect... the debt is my life,” she proclaimed hesitantly. I felt my heart do a back flip, realizing that the reason my love was going to die. “It seemed too good to be true... I should’ve known that stage 4 stomach cancer doesn’t just go away. Julie... what did you do?” I asked with dread. “I wasn’t going to let you die. The things you do for the people as police captain, I think you’re a hero. No one else can protect this city like you, I can’t let this city and my hope fade.” She was trying to make the exchange of her life for mine logical to justify it, but we both knew it was a desperate attempt not to lose someone she loved. Before I could respond, there was a crash in the adjacent room and the shattering of a ceramic toilet. We were back in the trying pan and it was time to move. “Third floor huh? Guess the window's not an option. Back the way we came. Hopefully that salt will act as a red line it can’t cross and buy us a minute.” She nodded in a agreement as she joined my side again. We bolted out of the door and down the steps, hoping to reach the ground floor and make a mad dash to our car. We heard the hellhound barking a loud piercing sound that resonated through the halls. It reverberated off the walls and sounded even more fierce. The feet scraped on the hardwood. The beast was overzealous and struggled for traction in its excitement. “We’re gonna make it,” I reassured her as I squeezed her hand. We were on the stairs to the ground floor when I saw a shadow pass over head. I looked up but there was nothing there to cast the shadow. An ear-piercing scream erupted from beside me and for a moment my trip slackened. The hand so precious from me was ripped away from my grasp. I looked beside me, and she was gone. Behind me, I saw the impossible, she was being dragged by her shoulder, bleeding profusely, screaming relentlessly as she was punching the invisible assailant with her free hand. The dog began to shake her, and the bleeding became worse and she went limp from shock. Even at my distance, I heard the snap of her shoulder bone as that beast dug deeper and deeper. She wasn’t struggling anymore, but the beast was still unsatisfied. Fear had paralyzed me, staring at the air as it rips into my love and puts her into this agony. Then rage overtook me. Rage at the cruel fate that would push us to months of being hunted just because she didn’t want me to die and rage at myself for taking this long to do what was necessary. I was done running. Maybe Julia as already dead, maybe she was still holding on, but I wanted to make this thing suffer for all the months of suffering it had given her. The beast again disappeared, and as I looked around, I could only hear the wild snarls of the beast circling around me. I could feel its presence around me, but I could not see it. My heart began to race uncontrollably from the bubbling rage and fear. I closed my eyes to calm myself and listened. It didn’t matter that he was invisible, I could hear the blood dripping from its jaws. I called out to it, “Come over here you God forsaken beast! I thought all dogs go to heaven, so what the hell are you? Cerberus, Barghest, or just some nameless mutt?” I drew my revolver from behind my back and readied the last bullet. There was no missing this time. I heard the bark come from the air ahead of me and saw the blood splatter. I aimed for the center of the blood and fired. A spray of blood exploded from where I shot, but the bullet disappeared into the nothingness. The beast gave a whimper and for a moment I felt sorry for it. I walked over to the pooling blood, knowing my felled prey was there. I walked forward hearing the steady drip of its blood and the rasping of its last breaths. The dripping stopped and so did the breathing. I was standing over the puddle of blood and gingerly pushed my foot forward, waiting to feel its body. My foot reached the puddle, but still nothing. I felt a cold sweat start and heard a low growl behind me. I tried to turn and face it but before I could, I felt its massive weight push me down. I fell face first into its putrid blood, spitting out the taste of iron with the smell of sulfur. Its claws were trying to pin down my elbows and I could sense it rearing back its head to bite. I rolled over with everything I had against its weight. I heard his body fall to my left. I clutched my empty gun like a hammer and started to furiously slam down the butt of the gun toward the ground. None of those swings reached the ground, they hit the soft stomach of the dog. It yelped and barked in pain. I followed the hammering up and felt the butt of the gun collide with the softer windpipe and then it was hard again. I found the face and I kept hammering until my gun and the floor was covered in blood and no more whimpers were heard. My arms and body were shaking from the strain when I finally stopped. I crawled over to Julia's body and listened to her chest for a heartbeat or a breath. I could feel her chest rising against my cheek. I scrambled to dial 911 and they came in time to save her from the blood loss. “We made it...” I whispered to her when she finally awoke the next day and I fell back to a tranquil sleep by her bedside in the hospital. “We made it to tomorrow... Thank you for never giving up on us,” she whispered as she kissed me back to sleep.


“Jet Pee Nong, what the hell is that?” asked the walk-in customer. “That, my friend, is the name of a magnificent hotel in a brilliant resort, on the holiday you’ve been dreaming of,” answered the overly keen sales agent at Rickets Travel Bureau. “I noticed the ‘deal of a century’, you’ve been plugging on social media recently. Tell me more.” “You are in luck. We only had one spot available, and it had been booked,” said the young man with the bright yellow blazer with the over-sized letters, RTB, plastered over the breast pocket. Below the logo was a pin screaming ‘Jethro’. “I was in luck, but it had been booked?” “Yes, tragedy in the customer’s family. She had to cancel. So, it’s yours, just give me your card and I’ll get on with booking it for you,” Jethro beamed. Nigel Peters scratched his chin, “I’ve never been to Thailand before, what’s it like?” “Oh, you’ll love it. It will be hot, the beaches are clean, the food is to die for... And Thai ladies are beautiful, say no more,” RTB Jethro was getting on Nigel’s nerves. He considered the reason he was there in the first place, he needed a break. “Okay, book it.” “Splendid decision, Mr Peters, you fly out Wednesday from Heathrow. Have a lovely holiday.” Nigel settled himself in the middle seat in the central aisle and half-way back of the Thai Airways Jumbo. “There’s always one, and he is always next to me,” Nigel mumbled to himself as a scruffy younger man tried stuffing his over-large holdall in the crammed overhead container. “Sorry mate, they buggered my ticket, panic all around,” he said squeezing next to Nigel. Pulling his jacket free of his neighbour as he sat. “You’re here now, enjoy the flight,” Nigel sneered, making it clear he wanted no further conversation. A man was waiting at Suvarnabhumi Airport with a small sign boasting, ‘Mr Peter’, hand-written in black marker pen. “But I’m Peter,” an elderly man stated. “No, sir, I meet Mr Nigel Peter,” said the mini-bus driver. “Excuse me, are you looking for me?” asked Nigel, looking at the clipboard and seeing 'Peters'. Nigel was directed to his seat on the bus. The mini-bus took no time in becoming snarled in Bangkok’s infamous traffic. “Hello again, mate,” Nigel heard from behind. “Yes, hi, you again, it seems we are destined to sit together.” “Where are you going? I’m going to the beach, I deserve sand and sea after what I’ve been through,” said the scruffy man. “Me too,” Nigel said, dreading the next question. “Are you going to Hua Hin?” “Oh, God,” Nigel breathed as he studied the overhead vinyl. “Yes, I think that’s what it’s called.” The mini-bus pulled up outside a newly painted building, ‘Jed Pee Nong Hotel’ in foot-high letters hung above the entrance. “Don’t tell me we’re both staying here?” thought Nigel. “This way, gentlemen,” said a young receptionist, pointing to the front desk. The driver lugged the luggage to the hotel’s trolly. “Can I see your passports please,” she smiled. Nigel rushed his document out of his pocket, hoping to escape his travelling companion. “Thank you, Mr Peters. And yours, Mr Jackson?” she looked as Mr Jackson searched his pockets and then his small shoulder bag. Mr Peters was getting used to studying ceilings, plane, bus and now the fresh paint of the hotel foyer. “No problem sir, the police station is over the road,” she pointed, “I’ll report it missing. Here’s your key.” “Where’s my key?” asked Nigel. “Oh, we only give one key per room,” she answered. The men looked at each other, then at her. “What?” yelled Nigel. “I’ve got you down as a couple? That’s what the agent told us,” she said. “Oh, no, I had to sit next to him on the plane, shared the bus with him, there is no way I’m sharing a room!” The girl busied herself with a huge ledger, “We are full tonight, but, tomorrow lunchtime we will have a room free?” Mr Jackson shrugged okay. Mr Peters did not, as they trudged to the lift. “You have got to be kidding me!” as Nigel saw the double bed. “Which side do you want? I prefer to sleep near the window. If that’s okay with you. Oh, can you keep your noise down, I need to nap,” called Mr Jackson to Nigel’s fast disappearing back as he stormed back to reception. “I am sorry, sir, but...” she started. “Where can I get a drink?” fumed Nigel. A folding map was handed to him, with bars, and restaurants circled. Nigel marched in the sea's direction and hopefully cold beer. After sampling some strong Thai beer, he got chatting with a few friendly bar girls. The beers soon changed to shots of local whisky. Nigel had calmed down and was enjoying himself with one young lady. They agreed to meet up the following day. “My God, it’s gone one o’clock,” slurred Nigel as he staggered back towards his hotel. “Can I have my key, please?” he said, proud that he didn’t appear as drunk as he felt. “The key is with... um, your friend, sir,” the receptionist from earlier reported. “Let me in, Mr Jackson,” Nigel spoke to the door. “Come on, hurry, I need a pee,” he asked louder. No answer, no sound from inside, Nigel’s firmly crossed legs made it to the WC in reception. “Have you got a spare key, please,” said a much relived Mr Peters. “Yes, sir, I can let you in. He must be a sound sleeper.” The room door pushed back, and the lights flicked on. “Where is he?” asked the puzzled receptionist. “Where are my bags? My passport!” An instantly sober guest opened the wardrobe, then the bathroom even looked under the bed. “Please sir, accompany me to the police station, we must report this. At least then, you will have the bed to yourself,” smiled the girl. No smile joined her across the road. A furious snarl marched back after spending an hour with the bored night officer. “Why did I have to keep repeating myself, as he scribbled notes?” whined Nigel. “His English is not so good, you were speaking too fast,” said the girl. “So, all this is my fault?” “No, sir, please take the hotel key and have a good night,” she offered, thankfully her shift had ended. A hammering woke Nigel at eight o’clock, “Sorry, sir, but you didn’t answer your room phone,” said the receptionist standing next to a police officer. “I unplugged the phone, as I wanted a full sleep!” said Nigel as he glared at his visitors. “Do you mind if I come in,” the officer strode to the coffee table and sat down, pulling the other chair back for Nigel. “What now?” “I need you to prove who you are, sir,” said the stern man in the brown uniform. “I haven’t got my passport, as you well know,” glared Nigel, pulling his wallet from the trousers he had slept in. The police officer held out his hand, Nigel passed the wallet over. “No credit cards? No driving licence? No cash?” “What? Give it here,” stormed Nigel, snatching it back. The empty wallet hit the far wall. The receptionist’s eyes widened. Her ears glowed at English terms she was unused to. “Calm down, sir. You had better accompany me across the road,” said the officer, hand on his pistol. Nigel slumped to his knees, head in hands, “Christ Almighty,” he wailed as he was guided to the police station. After a lengthy telephone conversation with the British Embassy and proving who he was, he could enjoy the rest of his stay in Thailand. A friend sent him cash via PayPal, making life easier with cash in his pocket. Nigel loved the Thai food, he enjoyed watching monkeys steal fruit, he even saw a dolphin when he took an interesting boat ride as part of a trip to the nearby mountain. His guide was the young lady he met his first night. They were getting on as if they’d known each other for years. On his third day in Hua Hin, he relaxed in a deck chair on the beach; he unfolded the Bangkok Post. “What,” instantly he sat up, as a headline on an inside page jumped at him, like a cold fish’s revenge. He felt the slap across the cheeks. “RTB owner found dead in her home!” For a reason only known to him, he looked all around him, as he read, “Well-known travel agent and business owner, Mrs Eastman, was found battered to death in her bedroom. Her husband, Mr Eastman’s whereabouts were unknown.” Nigel cringed behind the newspaper, suspecting Mr Eastman could watch him. He carried on reading the report aloud, “Young sales assistant, Mr Jethro Jenks, is helping police with their enquiries. Mr Eastman is known to have boarded a flight to Bangkok. ‘We lost track of him there’, said a detective headed the case,” Nigel folded the paper gently on his thighs, as a voice he recognised, shouted from behind, “Keep your noise down, I’m trying to nap.” The END


I looked at my sleeping 11 year old angel baby girl next to me. "We’re running out of time" , I whispered under my breath, ferociously hitting my hands against the steering wheel. I let out a roar worthy of a lioness, no one in this jungle heard it; it was silent, not wanting to wake my child. Her time was running out, her life was running out, her childhood had come to a sudden stop. No turning back now..."keep driving, how much I should tell her, will she be in pain," My heart felt like it was ripping out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe. We both were running out of time. Sticky drops of sweat were rolling down between my breasts, the old beaten up car window was open but the stifling breeze coming through it was hitting my face, turning the car into a sweltering sauna. The air conditioning on my 1990 Toyota had been out for years. The red paint had pealed and I had an old grey rope holding the trunk shut. I could barely make rent and food since my husband had passed. I had said a “Hail Mary” and patted the St. Christopher hanging from my mirror before turning the key at the start of this trip. “My God”, was a loving forgiving God and I knew in my heart that I was making the right decision for my daughter. My Catholic Church and our priest had another view. Father Vic had talked and prayed over us to make the right choice, I had. It was the only choice WE had. My God would forgive. I looked at Grace, her forehead beaded in sweat, her blonde hair plastered to her forehead. She was breathing irregular, she needed more water. She rolled over on her side exposing her tiny belly, her brows frowning. I didn't want to wake her, but knew I must. "What was she dreaming about?" "Does she relive the horror every time she slept? "Ever since she told me what had happened I have been living in a nightmare of blackness and fear. “Would I get stopped, will I be arrested?” My mind wondered, I couldn’t help but wonder why I could cross the borders I’d be traveling over to buy a gun, carry a gun in an open carry state, get married, have heart surgery, go to a state where Pot is legal, gamble, visit brothels, buy cheap gas, liquor, lottery tickets or cross borders to hunt with no consequences, but the hammer goes down when it comes to my child. Her life is in danger; her childhood was about to become completely oblivious. We live in Louisiana; the closest legal clinic is at least a 10-hour drive. We have only been on the road for about two hours; Illinois is still eight hours away. This was the longest road trip I have ever taken, but I’d walk through the hells' fires for my little girl. Yes, my precious sleeping 11 year old baby girl is pregnant. With this "Illegal", Supreme Court’s decision to turn over a fifty year old precedent in one day, America has become a Taliban nation for women. The world’s atlas tilted that day. There will be millions of lives imploding. The six Justices did not care; they tossed a dirty bomb into the uteruses of American women and girls across the United States. The “Righteous Evangelicals”, had won; but at what cost to the freedom of American women. The GOP and the so called Republicans that are left put their heads in the sand and screamed, look over here...don’t look at this, look at our horrible immigration policies. It's been over six weeks now, more like eight...how could I have missed it. "I know how, what mother expects her little soccer player, doll playing innocent child could possible get pregnant at eleven years old. I was shocked when she suddenly got her women’s visitor at 10 1⁄2 years old; The Dr. said girls were getting there period earlier these days with the hormones and additives to or food chain. I didn’t think she needed the “Sex” talk at her age, boy was I wrong. I knew last June something was wrong. Grace wasn’t smiling, laughing or sleeping. She was distant and wrapped her arms around herself, rocking for hours on her favorite chair; I couldn’t get through to her. It wasn’t until weeks after her uncle Rob left to go back to Costa Rica that she broke down with heaving sobs. Rob had touched her down there; he put his penis in her tiny Vagina. She had kept silent with his threats of harming me, it had taken me another week to get the funds together I’d need for this trip; my time off work, hotels, gas, and cost of the abortion in the clinic. I could barely make rent and food with my meager income. My job as a waitress was just not cutting it and covid wasn’t helping my bank account either. I always knew my husband’s brother was off; he had a sleazy air about him. I wondered why he had moved to Costa Rica. I believe I know now, his wife never talked about why the sudden divorce and her move across the United states to California. When I tried to confront her, she said “It’s too horrible to talk about, I don’t even want to think about it, Good Bye”, Then she hung up. I didn’t pursue it further. My anger surfaced all over again, if I had only known. If Grace's father was still alive he would have gotten on a plane and killed the son of a bitch! Why did I say yes to him when he wanted to come to Louisiana? My guilt was interrupted, “Mommy are we almost there”? A lonely tear fell down my right cheek, I thought, “No Grace, we are so far away from there”. I said, “Yes, sweetie”, as I slowly started stopping the car at a diner along the side of the road; she needed, food, water, she needed hugs, and she needs an abortion.