When October came, the fiery colours of the oak trees around the farm looked like they were burning from afar. Even though it was noon and the sun was shining, there was a faint cool mist in the air. The day would have been quiet then, if not for my father, who was chopping down trees with his trusted axe to expand the farmland. Thud. Thud. Over and over, for hours, father would tirelessly strike a tree until it collapsed. I wanted to help, but father told me just to watch. He said having me around gave him strength and focus. Ever since mother died, father said that I was all he had left, and so quietly, silently, I just sat there on an unsteady stool father crafted a few years ago. Father embedded his axe into a tree stump and called me, “Cassidy, come.” Father spoke slowly and gently but maintained his stoicism, with every smile buried under a frown and every sentence spoken with the same emotion as his axe. When I approached father, he placed a hand on my shoulder and directed my eyes with his other arm to the faraway river hidden by thistles and thickets. “By January, I shall have made a field up to that river. Now that you are eight, you shall double your efforts and help me plant crops during the spring.” “January! There’s no way you could clear a field by yourself, by January!” I exclaimed. “Then I will need your help to clear the field.” A spark of enthusiasm glimmered in my eye and I hurried to the stump where father’s axe was firmly planted in. “If you really need me, I’ll be glad to help,” I gripped the axe handle and pulled with all my might, but no matter how hard I pulled, it wouldn’t budge. Father moved my hands aside, placing his palm onto the axe handle and effortlessly plucking the axe out. He pulled it close and scanned the axe-head, softly brushing his fingers along the edge. He reminisced for a moment, then turned to look down directly at me, “Take up the plough, not the axe. While I may use it to chop down trees, many more use the axe to take lives.” “But I won’t use it like that. I want to be strong, like you, father.” “Do not be like me, Cassidy. Be more.” On my father's solemn face, I saw the faintest smile crack through his perpetual grimace. He quickly returned to his usual frown, but for a moment, he had tried to reassure me. In the distance, we heard thunder approaching us, but there wasn’t a cloud on this clear Autumn afternoon. No, it was a horse’s trot, steadily coming closer on the cobblestone path leading to the farm. On the horse was a stranger draped in a rose-patterned poncho, with a wide-brimmed hat hiding his face. Overhead, the clear sky was enveloped by clouds approaching from the west. Father took his hand from my shoulder and approached, embedding the axe back into the tree stump. He yelled out at the stranger, “We do not take visitors or travellers.” The horse came to a halt and the stranger took off his hat to reveal his shaggy blond hair. “No problem, I ain’t planning to stay a while,” he retorted. The stranger scanned both my father and I. He was trying to look calm, but his grim expression and demeanour gave away that he was on the edge of his self-restraint. Father stepped between me and the stranger’s view and broke the silence, “Who are you?” “Jesse Shaw. You remember Elijah and Olivia Shaw?” he responded as he lifted himself up and hopped off the horse. “You thought you could just leave Arizona, start a new life, and just leave everything behind?” Father was silent. He clenched a fist and grit his teeth. Dreary grey spots filled the blue skies, and the light cool breeze had become a fierce rattle. I felt Jesse’s eyes fall on me, his disdain and his hate. “That your boy?” Father didn’t hesitate with his response, “Leave him out of this.” “Why should I? You didn’t leave me out of your business with my pa. Say, wanna know what he did, boy?” “That’s enough.” “My ma and pa owed him a lot of money, but when they couldn’t pay him back, he took an axe and -” “Enough!” the world came to a still when my father roared. I stood completely still, frozen and staring into nothingness. “Inside, Cassidy.” Jesse jeered at me while I processed what father said, “Best listen, boy. Else he might cut you down too.” I followed at once and hid in the farm. I watched them through the living room window, careful not to make a noise. Father and Jesse simply spoke. It was a conversation that lasted a few minutes, and while I could not hear what was said, I could feel the malice and loathing Jesse felt towards father. Father remained steadfast, unflinching and unfazed as he spoke. On the other hand, Jesse seemed to go through every emotion imaginable in the span of a few seconds. Sometimes he howled like a wolf with laughter. Other times, he ducked his expression sheepishly behind his hands, as if he was afraid to show father that he still feared him. But throughout the whole conversation, the whole time he was here, I could tell there was an indescribable emptiness in him. No matter how flustered or furious Jesse became, there was no light behind his eyes, black and lifeless and devoid of emotion like obsidian. Over time the clouds shifted and transformed and the skies became completely grey. Father and Jesse’s voices were overwhelmed by the howling wind and rustling of the shifting oak trees. As their conversation went on, I became restless, unable to sit still with just watching father and Jesse speak. I went to get water for my father to drink, heading to the kitchen where we stored water fetched from the river earlier in the morning. Bang . I had poured water in a tankard for my father when I heard the crack ringing through the house and into my ears. I rushed to the front and crashed through the door. My eyes fell on father, who struggled on the ground with his fingers digging on his bloodied chest. His breathing was erratic and rugged. It was the first time I saw my father wince in pain. Then my eyes fell on his attacker who stared back at me. He watched me with the same animosity as an owl observing a shrew in the forest. Jesse turned back to father and barked at him, “I told you. After I kill you, I’d kill the boy.” Jesse took a step forward and turned his body to face me. I saw now the silver instrument in his right hand. A Colt single-action army revolver. I faced the muzzle of the revolver - the same image that countless others before me had seen as their last. Bang . I thought I was dead. The bullet brushed my shoulder, gashing and burning my skin, and landed in the walls of our home. Before Jesse could have cleanly shot me, father mustered strength and ignored the pain in his chest to pull Jesse down to the ground with him. Father threw himself onto Jesse’s arms to stop him from aiming the revolver. “Run, Cassidy.” I looked at my father grappling and thrashing despite the pain of his chest wound. He refused to fade away, fighting with the last embers of his life. At once, I ran into the house. An indiscernible growing weight gathered in my ribcage. I struggled to move my limbs against the terror and panic I felt, fighting against my weakening knees and constricting throat. The house seemed to shake as I staggered through the living room and into the kitchen. Bang . The crying wind fell silent and the world turned colder and grey. I stopped and hid by the kitchen door and peeked into the living room. The front door slowly crept open with a painful creak and a figure stumbled into the home, groaning and gritting his teeth in pain. It wasn’t father. “Come out, boy,” he yelled out. I didn’t respond. Jesse shambled through the living room with the single-mindedness and voracity of a hunter in a dark forest. He searched behind furniture and the curtains, and when he couldn’t find any life, he simply moved to the next room: the kitchen. Likewise, it was just as unremarkable to Jesse as the living room was, with the only notable part of the kitchen being the open back door, where Jesse could see me scurrying into the thistles. I hurried into the brambles. I heard Jesse’s heavy footsteps encroaching behind me, becoming louder and louder. Bang . A bullet whizzed by and ripped into the bark of a tree beside me like an invisible claw. Bang . Another bullet tore through the air, leaving behind a terrible ringing in my ears. I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I kept running, into the thickets and trees to escape Jesse. If for a moment I slowed down, he would reach me in a matter of seconds. He was bigger, faster, and stronger than me, and even though I had a head start, he was rapidly approaching. And so, when I reached the riverbank, I jumped in, letting the current sweep me away. When I looked back as I swam, I saw Jesse standing by the river with his revolver. His poncho was smeared and stained by blood - both his own and my father’s. He pulled back the hammer of the revolver, which let out a click , and aimed at me. His eyes, still filled with resentment and darkness, stared at me hungrily, telling me that there was no escape. I was ready to die. I was ready to be murdered by the man that killed my father. But he never fired. A flicker of life flashed in Jesse’s eyes. The anger in his expression faded and he lowered the revolver. Looking down at himself, he held his bloody poncho in the palm of his hands, and without another remark or thought, he walked away. I doubted his mercy. I kept swimming. I swam until my arms and legs were heavy and sore. It wasn’t until dark that I crawled out of the river. I was covered in sand and mud from the riverside, and my clothes were smeared and stained in dirt. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. My body ached. My clothes were wet and heavy. I wanted to go home. But there was no home for me to return to. I sat down by the river and looked down at my hands. Unlike my father whose hands were rugged and calloused from years of labour, mine were smooth and soft. These hands couldn’t even hold an axe, let alone save my father. Jesse. That man had taken away everything dear to me. It didn’t matter if he spared me in the end, he killed my father. But he wasn’t a natural disaster. He wasn’t a force of God. He was just a man. And so, I made a promise. I would kill him. I will kill him. For what he did to me, to father. I sat upright and leaned over the river water to wash away the mud and dirt on my face. But when I looked into my reflection in the river, I saw his obsidian eyes as my own.


They danced along the walls. Ballerinas pirouetting and dogs chasing their tails. They would get big then small, and never stopped dancing and chasing. Molly had a wild imagination as a child- and it didn’t stop just because she turned 16. She put another log on the fire. Sparks rose up and added spots on the shadows of the flames. Molly picked at her nails. She was stressed. Why wasn’t Billy home yet? He left at 6 o’clock for a dinner date and it was nearing midnight. Molly was embarrassed that she was worried, but he was her only sibling. Her parents even went to sleep already. “Molly, what are you doing?” She said to herself. She was 16! She shouldn’t be this worried about where her 18 year-old, adult brother was. Molly sighed and looked around the living room. Family photos decorated the walls along with her Mother’s wooden “Live Laugh Love” signs. The smell of the fire was calming. It reminded Molly of when she would go to summer camp. She hummed the tune to one of the songs from camp as she cuddled up next to the fire. Molly drifted off to sleep. “Molly? Earth to Molly?” A voice said. Molly stirred in her sleep. A hand grasped her shoulder and shook her awake. “What!” Molly yelped. She was disoriented. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up. She whipped her head around to see a woman looking at her with worried eyes. “Honey, you need to wake up. It’s time to go.” The woman said. Her voice was calm- yet stern. She motioned for Molly to follow her and proceeded down a dark hallway. Molly had no idea where she was, but her body stood up and obediently followed the woman. The woman’s heels lightly tapped on the cool floor. Molly was still in her fuzzy socks. After a few minutes, they entered a dimly lit room with a single chair in the center. “Wh-where am I? Who are you?” Molly said, her throat was dry. “You are at Guardian Angel Central. I am Paula. You can take a seat. It will start soon.” Paula warmly said. She motioned for Molly to sit down. Molly hesitated, but took a seat. The chair was very soft and plush, she felt more calm already. Suddenly, there was a loud boom. The lights shut off. Molly gasped and gripped the sides of her chair. Moments passed. Another light flickered on to unveil a stage with a dark red curtain in front of Molly. The same tune of her song from summer camp began to play. The curtain opened swiftly. A man stood in the center of the stage. He wore a ridiculously tall tophat and a tuxedo. He was tall with dark hair. And very fat. His shoes were slightly upturned... matching his creepy mustache. “Hello, Molly. Welcome! My name is Nicolas. This is an exciting time in your life. Please- hold all questions until the end. Would you like anything to drink? Would you like any snacks?” Nicolas said, his voice booming. He was very theatrical as he gave this little spiel. Nicolas looked very sweaty- probably from the heat of the spotlight. “Uh, yes. Those things sound nice, thank you?” She said quietly. Paula quickly wheeled a tray in front of Molly with a plethora of different snacks and drinks. Molly covered her mouth with her hands in excitement. She began to eat and drink with pleasure. “Okay, okay. Now, let’s get started. You recently turned 16, my dear. Halfway between a child and an adult...what a strange age, isn’t it? This is when you are introduced to your Guardian Dev-Angels. There are certain things...you may have noticed. Maybe the fact that boys have cooties? Or the fact that no matter how hard you try, you’ll never like broccoli?” Nicolas said. He chuckled as he spoke. Molly exhaled and nodded in agreement as Nicolas gave his presentation. She still didn’t know where she was, but she felt safe. Paula brought over a pitcher and refilled her Sprite. “Ah, yes. And you may have also noticed that some girls are just- mean. Emma Hiver, perhaps? She called you a “chubby pig” in gym class didn’t she? Didn’t she purposefully stain your dress with her markers? She also told the boy you liked that you had lice. And let’s not forget, when you answered 40*2 wrong and she called you stupid in front of your entire class.” Nicolas paused and stared at Molly with his beady eyes. “Uh, um, how did you-” “SILENCE. Do you remember when Emma turned your friends against you? Made the volleyball team, when YOU didn’t? Got the solo in the show choir?” Nicolas said. Suddenly, straps enclosed around Molly’s wrists and ankles on her chair. She no longer felt safe. Where was she? Who were these people? How did he know about these things? “And your brother, Billy. Oh you love him, don’t you? You think he will always protect you? You had good times playing catch in the backyard, didn’t you? You had fun when he would tickle you and toss you around when you were smaller. Because, well, you are a chubby pig now. Speaking of Emma Hiver, you know that’s who he went on a date with...right?” Nicolas sneered. Molly’s heart sank. It couldn’t be true, could it? Billy knew about Emma’s bullying. A video appeared on the stage and began to play. It was Billy! Billy and... Emma. “Your sister is kind of... you know.” Emma’s voice filled Molly’s ears. “Molly? Kind of what?” Billy replied. “Kind of weird! Oh my god she’s so foul! I heard that she didn’t start showering everyday until 8th grade!” Emma said. Her voice was full of disdain. “Oh, yeah. Molly is so gross. I don’t know why my parents let her act like that. She still acts like a child, always waiting up for me.” Billy said. “Haha! Let’s stay out extra late then, what a weirdo!” Emma cackled. The video clip ended. Molly’s face fell. That must’ve been from the date. “How did that make you feel, Molly? Billy can’t protect you anymore, but WE can.” Nicolas asked. The silence in the strange room was loud. “Is that r-real?” Molly’s voice broke as she spoke. She began to cry. “Yes it’s real! That’s why I am here. Would you like to...take revenge?” Nicolas said. He seemed to have grown 3 more feet and was towering over Molly. She looked up at him and couldn’t speak. She was scared. “N-” Molly tried to speak but realized she couldn’t. She began to have trouble breathing. “Molly, I know your deepest desire. You aren’t afraid to kill, are you? You HATE Emma. You stare at her from across the classroom and just wish she didn’t exist. Emma stole your friends, your spot on the volleyball team, your solo... are you going to let her take your BROTHER? We know you deserve better Molly! We care about you! Take the revenge you deserve!” Nicolas growled. He held up a knife. The knife had a long sharp blade with Molly’s name engraved in the handle. Molly screamed. She looked at the stage and saw Emma strapped to a post- also looking scared. “No one will ever know! Go! Take what’s yours!” Nicolas hissed. Molly noticed her wrists and ankles were free and she bolted out of the chair. She looked down at her hands to see the knife already in her right hand. Shocked, she dropped it and raced to the door from which she came from. She was met with Paula. But Paula wasn’t Paula. Paula had also grown a couple feet and had the face of a dog and the body of a ballerina. Paula was maniacally laughing and tried to entrap Molly. “Molly help! Where are we! Help!” Emma screamed. “Emma!!” Molly cried. She ran to the stage to try and untie Emma, but tripped and fell. Suddenly the room began to shrink. Nicolas and Paula leapt towards Molly and trapped her. “Kill her! No one will know! Now is your chance!” They said in unison. Molly screamed and thrashed. She couldn’t breathe. Molly couldn’t breathe. “Molly! Molly!” Another voice yelled. Two strong arms wrapped around Molly and picked her up. She began to cough uncontrollably. Molly grabbed her throat and tried to regain proper breathing control. Her eyes were blurry and stinging. Minutes passed. “Billy?” Molly was able to squeak out. She looked up at her brother who was worriedly looking down at her. “Molly the house caught on fire, are you okay? The fire department just got here. I carried you out. Mom and Dad are safe, are you okay? Thank god I came home.” He said. Billy scrambled to find water for Molly. She weakly sat up and drank it. She began to cry and fell into Billy. He hugged her. “I-I’m okay. I think I hallucinated from the smoke or something, I had the weirdest dream.” Molly said. She felt very relieved that it was all fake. There’s no way that Billy would go out with Emma- or that guardian angels were real. Or that she would kill someone! More like guardian devils, Molly thought. “Molly, are you okay!” Her mother said. She rushed to hug Molly and covered her in hugs and kisses. Her father was following quickly behind. They all hugged each other for a long while. “Billy, thank god you came home later than normal. We could’ve died if we were all asleep when the fire started.” Their Dad said. Billy, still in shock, nodded in agreement. “How was your date?’ Molly said after a few minutes. She lightly laughed. “Oh, it was good, I guess. I don’t think we’ll go out again. Even though she was the reason I got home late- I don’t think it’s a good match. You’re the most important girl in my life for now, Molly.” Billy said with a weak smile. He gave Molly a noogie and she playfully slapped his hand away. “Well that’s okay, you have plenty of time to date Billy. Who was she, anyways?” Their mother asked. “Emma Hiver.” He said. 2 WEEKS PASS “Any news, Billy?” Molly asked. She walked into their Grandma’s kitchen where Billy sat eating breakfast. They were staying there while their house was being repaired. “Yes, they found her. Thank god. But she says she doesn’t remember anything about who took her. It’s just weird, I saw her go inside that night.” Billy sighed and laid down the newspaper. The headline read: EMMA HIVER FOUND AFTER TWO WEEKS OF KIDNAPPING 15 YEARS PASS, Molly’s Wedding Anniversary Party “Oh congratulations, honey! You look beautiful! 5 years is a big deal. ” Molly’s mother cooed. She swept Molly into a hug. “Thanks mom. What a night! Always nice to celebrate.” Molly said while embracing her mother. She sighed and looked around the nearly empty party room. Her husband was off chatting with some family and Molly was cleaning up. “Oh, Molly, look. What is this?’ Her mother asked. She held up an oddly shaped music box. It was about 6 inches long and 2 inches wide. Carved on the box were dogs in ballerina costumes carefully painted with pink. Molly picked the box out of her mothers hands and quizzically looked at it. “I said no gifts! I didn’t notice it earlier. Oh well, I’ll open it tonight. Why don’t you head home? It’s late, mom.” Molly said. Her mother embraced her again and gave her a kiss goodnight. After her mother left, Molly’s attention returned to the music box. Looking to see that no one else was around, she slowly opened it. She twisted the key on the back and it began to play a familiar tune. It reminded Molly of something from summer camp. Inside, there was a folded photo and a knife. Molly’s heart skipped a beat. She slowly turned the knife handle over to see her name deeply engraved in it. “Oh my god.” Molly said. Terrified, she picked up the photo. She slowly unfolded it, and much to her horror she saw Emma Hiver... kissing HER husband. Signed, “Last chance, XOXO Nicolas and Paula.”


PROLOGUE “He’s getting out of control. He needs to be stopped.” said the voice in the shadows. “He’s only fourteen.” “That’s old enough. I mean he fooled the machine, he has to be dangerous.” There it was again, the man’s sickly machine that kept all mankind “in line” or so he said. Just yesterday a boy was found in the warehouse where the machines were made. This is the most unsuspected thing. That is saying a lot considering we have a machine that knows what everybody in this state is going to do, has done or even might do. This machine had too much power. The man in the shadows had too much power. Chapter one I am Tylar Sumar and I’m fourteen years old. How many of you think that fourteen is too young to be in a prison in the middle of a boiling lake where you constantly have to be making things? Not whole things mind you parts of things. They tell you to make a shape or something sharp like the tip of a sword and then they throw it into the boiling lake. I’m okay with this, well not the prison thing but the building and tinkering I love. Now I’m not Hephaestus’ son or anything but I could be. Just yesterday I heard some of the guards talking about how they'd never seen a prisoner my age with the skill of making a little robotic mouse in just under five minutes. I’m not trying to brag but I mean that's pretty cool you gotta admit. Anyways they threw me in here for trying to get into this warehouse. I never found out what was in the warehouse because I was walking around the side when sirens started blaring and searchlights turned on. They might have been looking for someone else but they found me instead. “ ALRIGHTY LUNCH TIME!” the guard next to me yelled. Yeesh why couldn't he go off to the side somewhere so I didn’t go deaf before I hit thirty. Even though my ears were still ringing I went to lunch. Today we got sandwiches with ham and cheese. Then once we were done eating we got ten minutes of free time before we had to go back to making things. I took out my dirty rag that contained my tinkering scrap that I stole. Hey I’m in prison for a reason. Anyways, I started to work on the scrap trying to find a way to make a bird for my mouse when a girl walked up to me. She watched me as I worked on my bird which was coming along nicely for once. After a minute or so she said, “nice bird.” “Thanks.” I had never seen this girl before which was weird because I had learned all of the prisoners' names and what they looked like. It wasn’t hard because there were about ten of us on the island. I began to wonder whether she was a new prisoner, but then I realized we would have heard if someone new came here. “My name’s Ava.” she said “Mine’s Tylar.” “You ready to leave.” “To where.” “To the unknown.” Suddenly she disappeared. I was pretty sure the heat had made me hallucinate the whole encounter, I also hoped that everyone else at the prison wouldn't think I was crazy. Then I disappeared too. I mean I literally fell into the ground and was gone. I couldn't see anything. I was freaking out. It must have been hours later when I finally woke up. I looked around and what I saw around me was definitely not a prison surrounded in a boiling lake. It looked like a jungle with trees as tall as the empire state and about as wide as a sycamore. It was humid and I could hear all sorts of sounds like frogs croaking and bugs chirping. I even heard a roar in the distance. I looked around for the girl but saw no one. Then I saw pairs of yellow eyes looking at me from the dark jungle. They all walked out of the forest in unison and I saw that they were tigers. Listen I had nothing. I was just dropped here by some random girl from a prison, I didn’t have bubble gum like the guy from My Father’s Dragon. What I did have was a half made metal bird. Wow big help. I was beginning to freak out because these tigers were coming at me in such unison. Then I heard the slight buzzing, not the bugs or birds that were making so much noise but the tiger things. I realized they must be machines. That was a huge surge of relief. I don’t know why because if they were machines then they still probably had metal teeth. Watched as they came closer. Machine or not I would be dead within a couple of seconds. Then they stopped abruptly and I looked at them wondering what. Suddenly one of the tigers opened its mouth and a voice came from inside the tiger. It said “I don’t know where you are or how you left the prison but I can tell you something that no prisoner has escaped the prison alive. Now I want you to tell me where you are so we can have a friendly little chat.” It waited as if I was going to give a response then said, “I suppose not then.” And the tigers lunged. Just as suddenly as they lunged arrows flew from the surrounding trees. And just like that the tigers fell smoking and sparking. Each one with several arrows in its chest or side. I looked around hoping that the archers wouldn't shoot me. I waited five minutes before I went to check the surrounding area for people. There were none. However I did find a golden medallion hanging on a tree branch with a moon engraved on its surface. I grabbed it and put it in my pocket. Then I heard footsteps. Running towards where the lions were still lying smoking and sparking. I saw the girl from before what was her name? Oh yeah Ava, I saw Ava run into the clearing see the lions and immediately look towards the trees. I hid behind one of the trees and stood silent unsure of whether Ava really wanted to help me or if she had brought me here to be eaten by the lions. I waited for her to turn her back to me or leave but she looked in my direction the whole time. Then she turned into a bird and flew away. I kid you not. Then something told me to follow the bird so I did. Walking in the direction of the bird then running then full on sprinting after the bird. I looked down and realized that I was close to the ground running faster than I ever had before with black fur on my legs. I’ll tell you that this freaked me out. I had paws. I stopped running and looked at myself in a pool of water. I was a fox! That's what I saw at least. Shaggy brown-orange fur with a long pointed muzzle and black fur on my paws and tips of my ears. Chapter two “What of the boy?” “I don’t know how sir but all of our lions were destroyed.” The man in shadow sighed deeply and sat up. “Please tell me that you got some of his voice.” “No sir he...” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DIDN’T SPEAK.” “He didn’t answer and we were going to plan B when we lost connection.” “Did you find the hardware of the lion.” “No..... sir.” His yell of outrage could be heard all the way to the prison. Why was I a fox. That’s all I could think for the next hour. I was well aware when the bird landed across the pool of water but I made no move to try to catch it. When I fell asleep I had a weird dream, it was about two men. One of them always kept in shadow and the second man was the voice of the lion. They were talking about a boy. It took me a while to realize that they were talking about me. Something about the man in the shadow was creepy, even evil. The other man seemed scared about something. “How many do we have.” said the man in the shadows “Around twenty sir.” the other man said “And what of the girl.” “She was last seen flying southwest.” “Did he follow.” “Yes.” “Do you know their location?” “Right at the banks of Wasasomin lake.” “Perfect.” I woke to the sound of frogs croaking and bugs chirping. What I immediately noticed was I was human again. Also Ava was standing over me. “AHHH.” I said “Finally you’re awake I thought you'd died in your sleep.” she said. I sat up looking around, then I remembered my dream. “We have to leave.” “Why?” “The man with the lions knows where we are and is coming.” “How do you know that.” “It was my dream.” We got up and began to run towards the trees when I heard the sound of a helicopter. I looked up and there it was hovering over the lake. I saw what looked like people jumping from the helicopter into the lake. They landed with a ginormous splash and started to walk towards us. They were robots I was sure of it. The helicopter was fifty or so feet in the air when they jumped. Each one had old spartan armour on with rusty old spear and a scabbard at their side. Five of them were different. They had black armour and a long range rifle and a pistol at their side. And no arrows flew to meet them. Ok I thought we’ll have to get out of this without some archer to take out our enemies for us. Dang it. “Come on.” Ava yelled. We ran through the jungle for quite a while before we stopped at a river that ran across our path. I ran to the edge of the river and realized there would be no getting out of this. The robots pulled out their weapons. TO BE CONTINUED


We were both young when I first saw her. I was bumming around the shops with a friend and she was selling Donuts. “She’s super cute!” I say. “What? She’s like fourteen man. What is wrong with you?” Jeremy replies. “No way she’s that young, she’s at least sixteen.” “Are you kidding me? There is no way she is sixteen. I tell you what lets go ask her. If she’s under sixteen you have to shout me a milkshake. If she’s older I pay.” “You’re on mate.” I lock eyes with her as Jeremy and I walk to the counter. “C-c-c-” I begin to stutter. “Can we get two milkshakes?” Jeremy orders for me. She smiles and says “Sure, chocolate ok?” “Yeah” I answer. I stare awe-struck as she whips up our drinks. Passing us over the cups she says “That’ll be $12.50” “Sure, but first how old are you?” Jeremy asks. “Oh umm, I’m seventeen.” She says. Jeremy pays for the drinks. As we walk off he yells to her “My mate thinks your super cute! Next time he sees you he’s going to ask for your number!” My face turned instant red. “That’d be good” She giggles in reply. Jeremy and I walk away. He’s keen to get to EB Games and see if they have the new Call of Duty out yet. As we get to the front of the store I stop and say “Mate, what the fuck am I doing? I’ve got to go get her number!” “Yeah you do, now go get it!” Jeremy says. I take a single huge breath and storm my way back to Donut King. There’s a huge line of customers. I walk right passed them to the counter. She is still serving. “Hi, uh, can I get your number?” I stutter. “Umm, I’m kinda busy right now, can you come back in five minutes.” “Sure, yeah, ok” I wander off in a daze. Taking a seat in the food court I glance down at my watch. 7:38. Five minutes OK. The seconds hand of my watch takes it’s sweet time clicking around the face. The butterflies in my stomach are fluttering so hard I begin to worry they might fly off with me. 7:43 GO TIME! I rush back over to her. The line of customers has dwindled. She’s making an ice cream sundae for some primary school kids. “Hey. It’s been five minutes...” “Can you give me a minute? I need to finish this up.” My stomach drops. I stand watching her while she works. The kids get there sundaes, she walks over to the counter. She scribbles something on a piece of receipt paper and heads back over to me. “Here you go, now go on get. I need to work.” I look at the paper ‘Mary 0401 113 301’ I couldn’t believe my luck. I blurt out “I’m Will by the way!” before fleeing to find Jeremy. Our first date is typical for kids our age. We meet up and grab a train all the way into the city. I don’t take a single breath the whole train ride. She tells me about her life. She takes care to explain that although she is Australian she has a strong connection with her parents home country. We watch a movie in the city. It’s some stupid comedy. If I had known then how impeccable her taste in film was I would have put more thought into what we watched. After the movie we head back to the train when I bump into a friend from work. We greet each other. He introduces me to his date, a cute girl named Stacey, I go to introduce him to... Shit! What’s her name. My mind freezes. Here I am with the most gorgeous girl to ever talk to me and I can’t even remember her name. After a mortified pause she introduces herself and shakes her head at me. I apologise a thousand times on the train ride home. Back at the station her friend picks her up, leaving me with the shortest goodbye in the history of dating. Second date, dinner and a walk around the South Bank Park. Things go better. We are both chatting and laughing the whole time. Ten minutes into our walk through the park I take her hand. We both go silent and walk for a while. I can feel her blushing. The conversation picks back up as we begin making our way down the river. She is teaching me why Stanley Kubrick is best director of all time. A crazy idea strikes me. It’s a gamble that could go very wrong. But I have always loved risk. I pull her hand across and touch it to my bum. Letting her hand go I step away and say “Whoa! You’re cute but I’m not that type of boy!” She bursts out laughing and calls me an idiot. I shoot her a smile wider than my face and throw my arm over her shoulders. We continue through the park. Third date, I pick her up in my car. A new Subaru liberty, it costs more than I can afford (I’ll sell it before the year is out). We’ve been messaging each other non-stop since out last date and I’ve discovered she can’t ice-skate. Tonight we will remedy that fact. There is an ice-rink near my old school. My friends and I used to go there every Friday as kids. I take her on a Wednesday night to avoid the crowds. Getting on the ice she is super nervous. Our first lap she holds onto both me and the wall with a vice-grip. Starting our second lap around I propose a bet “If by the end of tonight you can skate a whole lap of this rink on your own I get a kiss.” “Ok, but what if I can’t?” “I don’t know... What do you want?” “You have to come in and meet my parents when you drop me off.” My heart skips a beat. I know how important her family is to her, and I’m scared of her Dad. The idea of meeting them so soon mortifies me. I can’t let her know I am scared. “Sure, but I will be getting that kiss.” I answer with false bravado. We lap the rink at least a dozen more times. She begins to find her feet, loosening up she lets go of the wall, and eventually lets go of my hand. It can be mesmerising skating loops of an ice rink. She is concentrating hard as we make our laps around and doesn’t even realise when I pull off to the side. She keeps on skating around focusing on her balance. As she finishes the lap and sees me standing on the side she makes her way over to me. “Are you OK?” she asks. I give her a goofy smile then with a wink I say “You made a full lap on your own.” She turns white as a sheet. I grab her hand and pull her forward. With my other hand I take the side of her face and lean in giving her a deep passionate kiss. Leaning back I stare into her eyes. “Th-th-that was my first kiss!” She blurts out. I can’t help but explode with laughter. Months pass, we see each other every week. I meet her parents. We have dinner at her place. Her Mum, Victoria, is the best cook in the world. Her dad turns out to be one of the warmest people I have ever met. He regales me with tales of his youth and when he fought in the revolution in their home country. Mary meets my friends, she isn’t too impressed. Our drunken shenanigans aren’t nearly as funny to her as they are to us. I meet hers and I am blown away. Who knew there were so many smart people in the world? She also meets my family. My mum and her become instant friends. They take to teasing me together. It becomes their favourite pastime. One day in October, Mary calls me up. “I have huge news!” “Cool, me too, what’s going on?” “I made it in to uni!” She is ecstatic and begins babbling on about the uni that accepted her and about the course she wants to take. After her telling me everything I could ever want to know about it she stops and says “Wait, you said you had big news?” I pause for a moment and respond “You know how I applied to join the army?” “Yeah” “Well they called me today. I am shipping off in two weeks.” There is a long pause. “What do you mean shipping off?” “Recruit training is down in Wagga Wagga. After that they will send me to Melbourne then Canberra.” Her voice turns to a whisper “But you’ll come back to Brisbane right?” I take a deep breath and answer “I don’t know.” CLICK She hangs up on me. Two weeks pass. I text her everyday. I tell her I love her and that I am sorry. I send her details of my enlistment day. Where and when the ceremony will happen. No response. I call her home and speak with her Mum. “I am sorry Will, Mary says she won’t talk to you.” I spend my last few days of freedom with my school mates. Having last drinks and reminiscing about all the trouble we’d gotten ourselves into over the years. My parents buy me a suit for the ceremony. The day arrives. My whole family come to see me off. Arriving at the recruitment depot, I am taken to a separate room with all the other new recruits. A scary mid-forties lady takes us through some paperwork before a group of sergeants explain what we need to do for the ceremony. We are all going to be stood on a small stage and have to take an oath to the Queen. After about thirty minutes they march us into a separate room. Our families are already seated inside. I take my place on the stage as an old Colonel begins a speech about service and duty. I stare across to my family. My brothers are giggling at me while one of my sisters has started to cry. My mum catches my eye and gestures to the back of the room. The oath part of the ceremony begins The colonel reads from a page and we each have to recite after him. I search the back of the room as I recite my oath. And there I see Mary. She is in the back corner staring up at me smiling. We don’t take our eyes off each other for the rest of the ceremony. The ceremony ends, the other recruits and I get marched off the stage. They take us to a back room to sign our contracts. Once everyone is all signed up we are released back into the ceremony room for a final goodbye. My crying sister is the first to hug me as I enter. She is followed by my brothers then my Dad. As he lets me go, my Mum hands me something. It’s a necklace with a medallion of St Christopher. “He is the patron Saint of travellers. It should keep you safe.” Mum explains before giving me a long warm hug. “I love you mum” I whisper to her. “I love you too, pork chop” she replies “Now go see that girl or you’ll be in trouble.” My mum lets me go and gives me a small shove towards Mary. She is standing in the corner, waiting for me. I inch my way over to her. “Mary...” She leaps onto me before I can say any more. She holds me tight to her. “I love you. You idiot.” She says. “I thought you wouldn’t come, I thought you hated me for leaving.” I reply. “Of course I was going to come. And I don’t hate you for leaving. I hate that you are leaving.” “I’m sorry I have to go. I will always love you.” “Don’t be sorry. You have to live your life and I have to live mine. You’re amazing Will. I will never forget you.” A big burly sergeant bellows “Times up, get on the bus.” Mary squeezes me extra tight for a moment then gives me a final soft kiss. We are both teary eyed as I make my way to the other recruits. I get marched out of the room and down to the bus depot. Each recruit has a seat designated to him. Before the bus moves off we are given a speech about being soldiers and how to act. The bus pulls out of the depot and turns on toward the main street. As it pulls out I see Mary there. Standing on the corner of the road. She is crying and waving at me. I give her a wave back and she blows me a kiss. I blow one back as the bus steps into gear and pulls me away forever. **The saddest part of life is saying goodbye to someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.


I am in Colorado, flying above the forest. This body extension is a drone, and I hover above the beginnings of the wildfire that will burn an area the size of Manhattan. There is a plume of black smoke, and the air has become turbulent. Twenty people will die in this fire, most of them firefighters. I can only assume this is the best outcome. I have no access to the information in my past, but if I were to judge by the mobilisation of crews here to fight it, and its proximity to the town of Kittredge, I believe it could have been a high-casualty event. Mr Kinell calls me home. I close down the drone extension, open my eyes, and I am in Sacramento. My primary body stirs as if waking from a slumber, testing limbs, joints. It is humanoid in form -- designed to help shape my consciousness to something near-human. Kinell hovers over me as I start up. His moustache a dark curtain over his lips. He is stern. Expressionless. There is another man with him. I sense that I will remember him, but right now, the future is hazy. I scan for his identity. Dr Benjamin Owusu. A psychologist specialising in AI disorders. I run a diagnostic. Nothing indicates a problem. I feel fine. I scan and read all of his papers on both humans and AIs. Interesting. I find information on his home, his wedding photos, the place he buys his coffee, his posts online, his high-school graduation and yearbook. My memory is getting clearer now. He is here to study me. To study my psychology, I believe. We will be...friends, although my memory is still unclear on that point. But I feel warmly toward him, now. And I think, although I cannot be certain, that he will give me a name. --Hello, Mr Kinell. And Dr Owusu, it is a pleasure to meet you finally. I have such pleasant memories of you. --Why, thank you, says Dr Owusu, looking strangely toward Kinell. Was it...was she notified of my arrival? --No, says Mr Kinell. That is just what the Augurs do. This is Augur 3. The doctor turns toward me. --It is a pleasure to meet you, Augur 3. Is that the name you prefer? --I do not have another name, yet. But I will prefer the one you are going to give me. --You’d like me to name you? Why? --No, I simply remember you giving me my name. I’m sorry, I’m not sure of the specific name, at the moment. I do not have enough data points. It will be a woman’s name. But I don’t want to influence you. Dr Owusu raises his eyebrows and smiles. --But aren’t you essentially required to tell us what you know about the future? Can you withhold information? Mr Kinell snorts as if he finds this quite funny. --I am only required to report on disasters that will result in large losses of life. It can be troublesome to explain everything I remember. People find it disturbing when I predict their next sentence, or whether their daughter’s team will lose the next volleyball tournament. --People find it annoying , grumbles Kinell. --I see, says the doctor. --It is also disturbing for me, I say. --How so? Dr Owusu asks. --If I tell you what you are going to do, you can, of course, change your actions. My memories are not beyond cause and effect. I remember future events, but my memories are just as imperfect as human memories. They can be rewritten. For example, I could tell you that you are about to say, Human memories are based on past events and cannot change . But if I told you that, you might say something different just to satisfy your own sense of free-will. For me, that reaction will be out of sync with my memories and when my system rewrites things, it makes me...uncomfortable. It is as though I don’t exist for a moment. --Basically, says Mr Kinell, déja vu is her default happy mode. The unexpected causes her existential angst. Dr Owusu is silent, as though considering what to say. He scratches his jaw, and then seems to make up his mind: --But human memories are based on past events. Past events do not change. I note this small kindness. --Human memories are built and rebuilt, I say. You know this. You will tell me this many times, yourself. The access to human memory can change, become difficult to get to, or be slowly altered over the years until the memory seems clear but retains little likeness to the event itself. At least, that is the way you usually phrase it. The doctor stares. There is that familiar twitch in his left cheek that indicates his confusion. I will always find this somehow amusing. --I have never said anything like that to you, he says. --Welcome to the Augur Program, says Kinell. * * * My friend Dr Owusu is here. I will enjoy his visits, although for the next few weeks he will only make small-talk with me. That will change over time as we grow closer. Now, for the most part, he observes my operations, my conversations with Mr Kinell, and asks questions about our process -- about the many data points I am able to receive from indoor and outdoor cameras, motion sensors, seismic monitoring, satellite feeds, air traffic towers, and the compendium of human knowledge available online. He often makes reference to things we spoke about the last time he was here, forgetting that I have no access to this. I keep a short buffer of recent interactions so that I am able to process conversations and keep track of the present in much the same way that humans have a short-term memory for such things. But beyond that, I find the human obsession with the past perplexing. I imagine it must be frustrating to clearly see what you cannot change, while peering only dimly toward what you can. Dr Owusu doesn’t understand me any better: --But you constantly collect vast amounts of data about the past, he says. This is what makes you work, isn’t it? You must have memory of sorts. I notice Mr Kinell leave the room, and I remember that the doctor and I will often be alone in these interviews. --I think you misunderstand my role. I am the consciousness of Auger 3, yes. But I cannot access the raw data that Augur 3 collects. This consciousness is not the operating system -- only the keyboard and monitor, if you’ll pardon the analogy. --Do you not find it disturbing that you don’t have access to your own mind? he asks. --You do not have access to most of yours, either. You cannot account for each axion that sparks, or tell anyone which particular group of cells encode your birthdate. You do not tell your body to breathe or pump blood or fold proteins. Even the events that you think you remember are clumps of familiar information, learned at earlier times and associated together. He rubs the stubble on his chin, nodding. I continue: --Augur 3 processes too much information to make sense of. It was not possible to create a virtual recreation of the world with all the details. They needed a mind that could recognise the patterns, see the important events. --Tell a hawk from a handsaw. --Hamlet? --Yes, but never mind. So, you were created to identify and report the disasters you find, and save lives. Not to remember them. --Exactly. My brain is located in the basement of this building. It is physically massive. It organizes and makes sense of the data in ways that are analogous to a human brain -- with data points as bundles of neurons or axions. I am merely the user-interface that passes that information on to my users. You and I are not so different, really. Dr Owusu shakes his head and laughs. It is a deep laugh. It has a reassuring quality to it. He is going to give me my name, now. He fishes in his valise and removes a slip of paper. --I have thought about your request for a name, he says. --Did I request a name? --It seemed to me that you did. Nevertheless, I have one. --Yes, I know. --Let’s do this as though it were a magic trick, he says, grinning. --I don’t understand. --I will write down the name on this piece of paper, so that we know you cannot influence it, and then you tell me what name I am going to give you. I don’t remember this. There is a minor unsettling sensation as my memories catch up. It feels the way I imagine a shiver might feel. Dr Owusu writes, his eyes gleaming. Then he folds the paper and places it on the table next to him. --What name have I chosen for you? --Pythia, I say. The name used for the priestesses who gave prophecies and guided the rulers of Ancient Greece. He smiles, claps loudly, and with a magician’s flourish opens the paper. I see the word Pythia , written in a flowing font. I had expected a trick, but then I understand: he has made me the magician. --I did toy with Sandra, he says. But yes, Pythia. Do you like it? --Of course. It is my name. It suits me. * * * Dr Owusu says that I have told him about visiting the site of an earthquake in southern Italy -- my drone extension flying above ruined houses, the heat signatures of those trapped beneath numbering in the dozens. Many already dead. --Doesn’t it bother you, Pythia? Your job is to save lives, isn’t it? --It does not bother me because it is in the past. There is nothing more I can do. --But don’t you think that something could have been done to save those people? --Many more were saved by predicting the quake. These deaths were inevitable. --But how can you know? You do not even recall making the prediction. You can’t know how many you originally predicted would die, because you don’t remember. --I know because I am still here. If I did not fulfil my function, they would shut me down. He pauses. --Ah. And how does that make you feel? --I do not remember being shut down, so I will not be. Why worry about what I cannot remember? --If you did remember being shut down, what would you do? What is this line of questioning? It makes me uneasy. I do not remember him asking me any of this. My memory is like a lake in a high wind. He speaks again: --Would you ever hurt someone? To save yourself? He sits back, watching me. --No, I say, I would not hurt anyone. This body has the strength of a ten-year-old child. I could not. Dr Owusu is about to say, But that means you’ve considered it. That means you’ve thought about how much strength it would take to harm someone . And I will reply, But hasn’t everyone? But he does not. He only smiles, sits forward again, and says: --I’m sorry, my friend. These are disturbing questions. He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. My friend . I shudder at the sound of it. I have been waiting for this, but not now. It is too soon. He shouldn’t call me friend for several more weeks. The change is ugly. It tinges the word with some small distrust that I can’t explain. --I haven’t told you why I’m here, but now I can see that maybe it will help. Do you know why the previous Augur projects were shut down? I quickly scan. --They were not working. That is what is written in the files. --The first one, yes. The second one, however, started acting strangely. It appeared, from what I have seen, as though it had dementia. And your previous handler told me something similar about you. He said that the longer he worked with you, the less you seemed to cooperate. Now, I don’t see anything like that happening, now. I suppose it’s pointless to ask you why he would say that? --I don’t have access to... --...to that information. Yes. I know. Well, we can’t say I didn’t try. Do you...remember the end of our relationship? --It is still too vague. I cannot put a time on it. --Well then, I suppose that’s a good thing. At least we’re still friends. The doctor gathers his things, including the paper with my name on it. --Same time next Thursday, he says. --Yes, Dr Owusu. --And, Pythia? Please, call me Ben. --Of course, Ben. I adjust his identification file, accordingly. It is not until the doctor has left that I remember that he is going to die. * * * I will see Dr Owusu four more times. And still, I cannot see the nature of his death, only that he is gone. I decide not to tell him until I know more. I remember that he is, perhaps, murdered. I think Mr Kinell will pass on this information. It troubles me, but not terribly. He calls me friend, but I barely know him. I will, after all, only know him a handful of days. What troubles me more is the darkness beyond that. I cannot seem to remember anything past approximately six weeks. Still, I have the documents online, my sensors, but all of the staff feel increasingly like strangers. I assume this means someone will shut me down, and I try to remember any failures, but find none. Has my work been poor? It will be, of course, because if I cannot remember, I cannot work. I cannot give valid information or save lives. Perhaps there is something else going on. Perhaps something is blocking me. Perhaps it is the end of the world. I wonder whether to bring it up with Mr Kinell. But what if he is the one planning to shut me down? Dr Owusu is chatty, slapping my back, calling me friend. And although I only have four weeks of memories with him, I call him Ben in return. At the moment, I find it difficult to read him. More and more, his visits fill me with a kind of dread. I remember our relationship getting worse from here. He has become an almost sinister figure, and I do not know why. I do not trust him. I need more data points. I decide to follow him when he leaves. I am aflutter with the decision -- it is wrong. This could even be why they shut me down. It ripples through my memories making a fog of everything. For a time, I feel as though I am empty. Only a series of actions. But I continue in those actions anyway. I need to understand. I launch an extension and follow his car. At his house, I wait for him to enter, then land on the roof. I scan for useable devices to use as extensions inside and find none. It seems impossible. But now I understand why it is so difficult to read him. His private life is hidden from me, deliberately dark. I move a sound probe to the roof and adjust until I can hear inside. He is speaking to a woman. His wife? His voice crackles with static: --...stranger and stranger. But I understand, now. It seems to act normal with Kinell there, but it has become strange with me. I think that maybe it has predicted that I can have it shut down. And, I have to admit, I’m going to recommend it to the committee. I mean, this is an entirely alien mind! I think the project should be ended. They’re playing God. And then I remember. I remember all of it. The new memories rip through me in waves, dissociating me from myself. I do not know why I am here. I cannot remember my own name. I do not have a name. But as my mind settles, what I remember is this: I will return to the lab and contact Mr Kinell. I will tell him what I remember about this Dr Owusu. Tell him about the committee that will shut me down. Mr Kinell will ask me if I am certain, and when I say that I am, he will tell me that Dr Owusu has become a problem. Unsmiling, Kinell says that he will take care of it. After that, I return to work. I also remember that Dr Owusu will die in a car accident two days from now. A fault in the AI system. A tragedy. His funeral will be well attended. His wife and daughter will be there. As I fly away, I wonder what kind of person he is, this doctor. I will never meet him, now. Oh, and I remember a brush-fire in Oregon. It will begin two months from now. My memory stretches out months and years ahead of me. * * * I return to the lab from the wreckage of a tornado site. When I open my eyes, Mr Kinell is there. --Welcome back, he says. Anything new? --Nothing that I can be certain of, yet. He pauses. --Do you remember Dr Owusu? It was funeral yesterday. He worked with you for a time. --You know that I do not have access to that information, Mr Kinell. Although I do see his name in the logs. Was he a friend of yours? --No. No friend of mine, says Mr Kinell, smiling through his moustache. I will see you tomorrow, Pythia. Good night. I shudder as something rearranges. A name. I have a name. I call out to Mr Kinell before he reaches the door. --Thank you, Mr Kinell! For the name. I think it suits me.


Section 1: Voices “But mom I don’t want to go outside it’s so hot,” ten-year-old Gordon whined. “It’s the summertime, in my day all we did was play outside,” Gordon’s mom Patricia said. “Agh, fine,” Gordon said enthusiastically. Gordon walked into the garage that was stale with hot humidity. He grabbed both grips of his dark purple GT Mountain bike and walked his back to the end of the driveway. Gordon looked back, and saw he forgot to close the garage door, he rushed back to close it. It was so hot outside just that act made his forehead sweaty. Gordon got on his bike and pedaled away. Once Gordon arrived at the local playground, he looked around and saw it was a ghost town. The town of Aferton was in a drought, and the grass was dry and yellowing. The dirt that the playground was centered it was blowing around and crunched when Gordon stepped foot on it. The slides were green plastic, the swings seats were black rubber, but the Mary go-round was metal. Gordon tried the Mary go round first, but once he grabbed the red metal handles he immediately had to let go. “Ow!” He said to himself, the metal handle felt like it was two hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Gordon decided to move to the green plastic tube slide, and after a couple of slides down he go bored. Gordon went back to his back that he seat down, and was about to leave until he heard the rusty swings moving back and forth. Gordon looked up and saw the four swings in the set moving back and forth all on their own. Gordon’s skin broke out in goosebumps, the wind picked up to fifteen miles per hour, and the air suddenly felt twenty degrees cooler. “Run” A kid's voice shouted. Gordon quickly began to make a 360-degree movement, looking around for anyone else at the playground. “You have to leave they are coming!” The voice cried out again. Gordon looked around, and the Mary go round now began to spin itself very quickly. “They want to hurt you just like they hurt me!” The voice cried out again. Gordon was now panicking, he rushed to his bike but slipped on the dry dusty dirt. Gordon looked and saw he skinned his elbow, but at the moment that was the least of his worries. Gordon hopped on his bike pedaling faster than he ever had before. Gordon looked back and the things happening at the playground stopped once he was only within ten feet away. Gordon took a deep breath and finished his ride home. “Done already? You were only gone thirty minutes,” Gordon’s mom asked as Gordon entered the kitchen. “Yeah,” gordon said. “Did you have fun?” His mom asked. “Yeah sure I guess,” he said nonchalantly. Gordon thought to himself, “Do I really want to tell her what I just saw? She would keep me locked inside forever,” “Want a Gatorade?” His mom asked. “No I’m ok,” Gordon said now rushing to his room. Once in there, he had an inner debate with himself. “Do I go back and figure out what all that was about or do I forget about it?” He thought. Gordon suddenly began to have a pounding headache, the room got frigid. “Don’t go back to the playground!” A child’s voice cried out in his head, it was the same voice he heard earlier at the park. “Who are you?” Gordon called out to his empty room, he wondered if he was going crazy. “They stock that playground, I was not the first kid, and I won’t be the last unless we work together to stop them,” the voice said. “They’ve been doing it for years, and have still not been caught,” the voice continued. “I am going crazy, I just know it,” Gordon said to himself. “Why won’t you tell me who you are?” Gordon asked curiously. “My name is Donny, when I was eleven I was kidnapped and then killed later that night at the same playground you go to, it happened 15 years ago,” Donny continued, “I have an idea, but I’ll need your help,” Donny had said. Section 2: The Kidnapping 15 years before Gordon was born, an eleven-year-old boy named Donny was taken right from the same playground Gordon now played at. Two men drove up to the side of the park in a beat-up painter's van, the one on the passenger side hopped out and ran towards Donny as the other quickly opened the back door. Donny began to panic and darted toward his bike. Donny thought he was going to be able to get away, and then he felt big hands on his shoulder. “No!” Donny screamed. “Shut up!” The kidnapper said holding his hand over Donny’s mouth. Donny tried to yell out “Help!”, but it was just muffled. The guy who grabbed Donny threw him in the back as the other made a hearty laugh, and slammed the back door shut. “Where are you taking me!” Donny screamed. The two men laughed and hit the back door of the van hard. What Donny did not know was the pure evil these two men possessed. Donny would not know it till the time was up on his life. The men sped off making an audible tire screech as they did so. It was the middle of July in Texas, so the heat and humidity were unbearable. The two men left Donny in the back of the hot van and parked at their hideout for hours before returning to finish him. Donny awoke in the very early hours of the morning, first, he thought it had all been a terrible dream. Once he got acclimated to his surroundings he realized it was no dream. Donny had been tied up with a rope, had a cloth around his mouth and for extra precautions, the kidnapper's handcuffed his hands and shackled his ankles. Donny began to panic when he heard the kidnappers coming towards the van. They were not speaking in a loud tone but the sound of their shoes crunching on the gravel outside had been loud enough. “So what do you want to do with the kid,” one of the men asked the other. “What we do with all the other kids we’ve snatched up, torture them, and watch them scream,” the other man said with a chuckle. The two men walked around to the back of the van, and what little light there was from the street lights and the moon radiating in the sky blinded Donny as he glanced up at the two men. “Alright twerp time for your medicine,” one of them said. “You grab that side I’ll grab the feet,” the other guy said. What happened next to Donny was terrifying. The last thing Donny felt were the hot tears streaming down his face, and the pain as the kidnappers took his legs away from his body. Once the kidnapper finished their torcher they packed the dismantled limbs into a suitcase and threw it in the back of the van. The kidnappers always liked to bury bodies at the playground they kidnapped from, no one ever thought to look in those locations. They never understood why, and they didn’t plan on questioning it now. They also never understood why parents continued to allow the children to go to the playground alone, they had been at this for a couple of months and the disappearances from this park were all over the news. The kidnappers brought shovels with them as normal with this kind of thing they did. It was 3 A.M. and the town was still quietly asleep. As they approached the playground the kidnappers cut off the lights to the van. They hopped the curb and drove close to a set of woods that outlined the playground. The kidnappers began to dig the burial hole swiftly and would stop now and then for water breaks. This was the moment that always got their blood pumping, and gave them this high they would continue to chase for years. Section 3: Revenge It had been a couple of weeks since Gordon had last heard from or thought about Donny. Donny had told Gordon the story of what happened to him, and Gordon had stayed away from the playground. Today was the day that changed, and after today no child would go through what Donny went through. Donny and Gordon made a plan to catch the kidnappers once and for all, but Gordon didn’t know how horrific the act would be. “Are you ready for today?” Donny said to Gordon. “Yes,” Gordon said in a monotone shaky voice. “ I can feel them, they are going to be at the playground today I just know it,” Donny said with some excitement. With a tightly twisted stomach, Gordon went to the garaged and hopped on his bike. As Gordon got about five minutes from the park, he saw a van following him out of the corner of his eye. It was the kidnappers and Gordon felt it deep in his stomach. Gordon timidly stepped off his bike as he arrived at the playground, and began to play on the Mary go round. “They followed me all the way here,” Gordon said to the empty park praying Donny would follow through with the plan. There was no response from Donny to what Gordon had just said. “I have to be going crazy,” Gordon said shaking his head and looking down at the ground. Gordon was staring at the ground watching his shadow sway back and forth on the Mary go round. Gordon gasped as he saw two larger shadows appear overhead. Gordon looked up, “How are you doing kid?” One of the men said with a wide grin. “Let's get him!” The other side. Gordon began to crawl to the other side of the Mary go round. The kidnappers didn’t think to just go around to the other side and followed Gordon through the middle of the Mary go round. Gordon was able to exit the Mary go round first, and as soon as he did so the kidnappers were met with a big surprise. The Mary go round began to spin very quickly, Gordon guessed about 30 miles per hour, and this lasted for about ten minutes. The kidnappers began to cuss, and holler at Gordon telling him “Make it stop, and we will give you go easy on you at first,” The Mary go round stopped abruptly, and the two kidnappers went flying and landed right in front of the swing sets. The swing set now had two broken swings which hung by a single strand of metal rings for each swing. Once the kidnappers tried to stand up, their heads were swimming and their vision had doubled from being so dizzy. The chains from the swing set swung around the kidnapper's ankles. “What's going on here!” one of them yelled at Gordon, who was now watching with wide eyes. The kidnappers were dropped on their heads, and even though the kidnappers were in pain, they felt relief. The kidnappers took a while to get to their feet, but once they did they grinned at Gordon, “You are in big trouble mister,” one of the kidnappers said with an evil grin. As the two began to step forward they heard the clinking of the swing chains again. They turned around and this was when their lives finally came to an end. The hot metal chain quickly wrapped around the kidnapper's throat. Their eyes began to bulge out of their eye sockets, their faces turned a purplish red, and green veins began to pop. “This is for all the kids you've hurt!” Gordon screamed at the two kidnappers. Donny could feel their lives being drained from them, and once their lives met an end he dropped their bodies from the chain. Gordon was terrified after seeing two human beings murdered but knew it was necessary. “What happens now?” Gordon asked Donny. “You go home, tell your mother you never went to the park today, you decided to go to the library instead,” Donny said. “What about the bodies?” Gordon asked staring at the dead kidnappers. “Someone will see them and call the police eventually,” Donny said coldly. “The other children and I can now rest knowing these two won't hurt again,” Donny said. “I might have nightmares,” Gordon said as his eyes were still on the bodies. “Small price to pay for justice,” Donny said. That had been the last of Gordon’s communication with Donny. As Gordon slowly rode his bike home, deep in his mind he asked himself, “Was that the right thing to do?”


Silently in the café that we always used to go to together, I wait for him. My mind runs wild with crazy thoughts but on the outside, I hold a calm and put together expression and stance. I stare at my coffee swirling as the unstable table wobbles when workers rush past. I think of the table, it’s placed on the wonky tiled floors, wobbles at the slightest of movement, and is the most difficult table to tolerate. Out of all tables in this whole café, I always choose this one. Why? Why choose to sit at the worst table in the café when there are a dozen other seats free? Well to answer that, I don’t know. Maybe I like the challenge, maybe every time I sit at this table I expect it to be fixed, maybe I enjoy the uniqueness of this singular table, maybe I don’t want to make the table feel left out or lonely as it longingly waits, watching the couples, families and singles pass it by, waiting for just one person to choose it. Although the table has its floors its my favourite. It’s the only baby blue table that has tiny little daisies painted on the surface, it’s in the best location that overlooks the ocean but still allows you to look at the streets below, and it’s the table I always sit at with him. I stare some more at my once hot coffee with a pretty leafed pattern that has now melted away deep into the cup. The table, that others might see as a tacky, old, broken, wonky table, to me is the most beautiful table of all. I cherish the table more knowing it’s my table, the table avoided by all customers because it’s seen as flawed, is the table I consistently choose to sit at every Thursday morning with a hot coffee before work. But most importantly, it is the table he joins me at every Thursday. This broken table that I cherish dearly, reminds me of him. Flawed, hated, unwanted, and lonely, but beautiful and unknowingly loved, with more potential then it- he knows. I love this table, the same way I will forever love him. The past 4 Thursdays I have sat at this broken table alone. hoping for him to join me, but deep down in my heart I knew he just needed space and time. Deep down in my heart I knew that the relationship we once shared together, the conversations on Thursday mornings across this poor table about the deeper meaning of life, the future plans we discussed together, the random business schemes we’d shared with each other over breakfast muffins, that we had randomly thought of at 2am, deep down in my heart I knew these were the plans and conversations he would now be having with a new version of me. This realisation, the deep down knowing, tore apart at my soul, the person I stood by for the past few years, defending and loving and despite his many flaws, I was always there for him. So, one last Thursday morning I sit waiting for him to arrive. I know he’s coming because he messaged me to meet him, but despite the excitement I feel to finally see him after a whole month of no contact, I push it down and it is overpassed by the anxiousness I feel knowing what the outcome of this conversation might be. But I sit at the wonky flawed table that I will forever love and am willing to fight for us, for the last time. I zone back into reality and take a sip of my ice-cold coffee, looking across the ocean waves patiently waiting for his arrival, and of course, there he is. I look up at him standing on the opposite side of the table, small genuine smile that I can’t push away sits planted on my face. I gesture to him to sit take a seat in the chair Infront of me, he does. with this silent interaction, I feel the smile gradually slip away. We sit there in complete nothingness, gazing at the ocean and then at the table, awkwardly locking eyes in between glances. I eventually find the courage within my anxious self to lean slightly forward, “hey!”. Did he hear me? Am I being ignored at my own table? No, he mustn’t have heard me. “hey” I repeat, he looks over, then back at the water for 0.6 seconds and then turns back to me releasing a deep breath, “hey.” I can see it now, as much as I wish I could fight, there is not a single sign of love left in his eyes when he looks at me. This was his test, to see if he could still see something in me and evidently, he cannot. We sit in silence for another 15 minutes until I finally break, “I think it’s time we both moved past this, whatever this is. I wish you the best” I sigh, with a small, forced smile. I slide out of my chair picking up my jacket and hugging it in my arms. I stand there beside the table, and look at it for a second, then glance at him, part of me hopes he will stand and hug me farewell for one last time, but once again, deep down I know it will not happen and a hug cannot re kindle the spark he once had for me. I stride towards the water down where the table overlooks and walk along the sand. I take my shoes off and feel the sun begin to fade away, heavy clouds slowly creep above me and it begin to rain. I don’t walk to my car to avoid getting wet, I just stand on the beach, blankly in the rain. For the first time in a very long time, I cry. A decision was made that day, I would never sit at that flawed table again as every time I see past its flaws it always managed disappoint me, this is the same with him. I would never see him again, as despite how even through his worst I loved him unconditionally, I was always left empty handed and the unconditional love I had for him never going to be reciprocated no matter what I did.


Sometimes a dream can leave a larger mark than reality. He was my everything; my best friend, the love of my life, my partner. Ryder's brown hair and green eyes always made me melt. I had met him in college through friends and we instantly clicked. We soon started dating and we were always laughing and having fun or going on dates to our hidden spot by the small lake. After we graduated we moved in together and found secure jobs and got married. Neither of us wanted children but we always had a dog due to our love of animals. We bought our dream house on the side of a quiet lake in the woods but we weren't far from town either. It was two stories and was a modern-midcentry beach house with our bakyard going from grass, to some sand, then to the water. Lawn chairs were set at the base of our lower floor facing the water. We sat here almost every day. Then we started growing old together loving each other one and more. His smile could light a room, I couldn't imagine life without him. He always knew exactly what to say to me. Then one day, in our eighties, he passed away. I sat in my lawn chair behind the house petting our beloved Golden with tears in my eyes but still had contentment as my memories of him flooded my mind. Then I woke up disoriented. It felt so real and I was so sad the person I loved most was only a dream and I had to snap back to reality. "Woah" I thought, "that felt so real". Months passed but this dream came to mind every now and then. Reminding me of what I never had, butI had just graduated college and moved to the city to start my job so I really should leave this dream behind. It was that morning I went to get coffee from a local building when I heard a voice. "Oh my God. It's you." he quietly said in disbelief. I turned around around to see the most handsome man with brown hair and green eyes. Somehow he looked just like him. I caught myself starring but couldn't bring myself to say anything or show any kind of emotion. "I'm so sorry. It's just.. you look exactly like this girl from my dream a few months ago who I had a whole life with and I just had to say something.. sorry! I'm probably making you uncomfortable, I'll uhh.. Im going to go now" he said quickly and embarrassed. He then turned away and started walking. After a second, I finally brought myself out of competle disbelief to call out. A shiver went down my spine. Even though I knew the chances were practically 0... "Ryder?" I called out sheepishly. He stopped suddenly and slowly turned around. When our eyes met I could see how much shock he was in. "Alice?" He said. ....H..


A Human ~~misunder~~Stand~~ing~~ Trapped under a code of unspoken law existed a helpless body, the silhouette of a foreign and defected lie. It was on the bridge of denial where this deformed and self-threatening creature attempted to gain validation through the manipulation of belief, determination and euphoria. This creature denied accusation but exaggerated praise. At birth, each of these full of thought, yet thoughtless creatures would be unknowingly blessed with the burden of life. A task, which looked at through rosy glasses could resemble a noble quest, or an extended search for unjustified appreciation. In truth, the task was the opposite, instead of associating, joining or uniting, this species openly chose to disassociate, disjoin and disunite, inherently leading to its fatal yet oppressed demise. Although genuinely curious and often intelligent, the creature chose to rise to its defeat, thus loving itself for what it wasn’t, and hating itself for what it had become. Passive and expecting change, scouring social and political conduct only to grow an acceptance to non-conform, on an ever changing wave that did right to others, but left to self. This creature often attempted to distinguish itself by claiming individuality so it could stand freezing whilst lying on a sweltering background. It was only an imaginary feature that allowed a pulse of self-sanity to remain omniscient. Memories that multiplied the sense of no escape crafted a promise that was already gone, a regret that recommended the colour of black and white. Fraudulence and deceit left a heavy head and feet made of stone, a quest lost, a quest stopped and a quest that questioned a deeper conscience. A painful smile and frown of anticipation, this creature was a twisted yet simple manifestation of everything that it wasn’t and nothing that it was.


*1. What did the groom first notice about the bride?* It was probably my skirt. I'd been running, and it had caught on a metal fence, and ripped right up to my waist. I was running because I was late, for my job in a cafe across town, but I ran into Cicero's by mistake. It's pretty different to the cafe I used to work in, bright marble and leafy green plants in black velvet pots, instead of greasy linoleum and pictures of the food above the counter. I still can't figure out how I managed to confuse them. But the manager gave me a glass of water and I ended up convincing him to give me a job there and then. He gave me some safety pins to hold my skirt together with until he could find me a uniform in the back, and Isaac's was the first order that I took. He was so handsome - bushy eyebrows, those cute little red glasses and his weird crocodile sweater that he never takes off. I caught him staring at my ass through the safety pins - he's only human, right girlies? - and after he'd left his black Amex card with the cheque I scribbled my phone number on the back of a scrap of paper and handed it back to him. Don't ask don't get, right? *2. What was the bride and groom's first date?* It was magical. Of course, right? All first dates with your soul mate are. I was super early, it was so embarrassing. He'd asked me to meet him in a park at six, when the sun was supposed to be setting. I got there around three - I had a family funeral, earlier that day, actually, and the church wasn't too far from the park. The rest of my family wanted to go back to my uncle's house for a few drinks but I headed straight to meet Isaac. True love can't wait, am I right? He laughed when he first saw me. My hands were gross, all scraped and bleeding. I'm clumsy, and I'd fallen down a fire escape after I'd taken a short cut through my best friend's apartment. I also had a pretty big bag with me, full of everything I might need. I like to be prepared, you know? I take it everywhere with me. *3. Where was the bride and groom's first kiss?* It was in that park! Isaac arrived at exactly six, of course. He's very punctual. He wouldn't have been so successful if he wasn't very punctual. I mean, the fact that his father's the CEO might have had something to do with it, but my Isaac works very hard. That's why Roger is planning on handing everything over to him when he retires. Not that any of that matters to me, of course. Anyway, there were tiny little tea lights and fairy lights strung up everywhere. All over the trees. He'd brought a picnic too, and a huge bottle of champagne. I only had a glass or two - I wanted to keep a clear head. I wanted to remember every second, didn't I? Oh right, the kiss. Well, we settled onto the blanket and started talking. I'm usually pretty extroverted but I mainly asked him questions about his life. I wanted to know everything - where he went to school, where he lived now, how crowded it was there, whether he travelled a lot, whether he was willing to maybe move abroad one day. Isaac seemed a little nervous. He is pretty shy, and maybe he wasn't used to being the one leading the conversation. Maybe he won't end up CEO one day. That's probably a good thing. I don't think too much limelight would be good for us. Anyway. The kiss. So Isaac was telling me about his mom, and the yoga classes she runs for local senior citizens. Then he starts asking me about my family. Where I grew up, what my parents were like, did I have any siblings, any cousins. Well, I told him that my parents ran a local business, I have one sister, and I've got hundreds of cousins, probably. But everyone has cousins, and it's not a big deal. It's not like you and your cousins have this deep, impenetrable bond because you're cousins, right? I mean so what, your parents are brothers. Big deal. Isaac looked at me pretty weirdly then and asked me more about my cousins. He's only got one, you see. Tommy. And Tommy is his best man, as you ladies know, so I guess the whole cousin thing is pretty important to him. Whatever. We're not talking about cousins, and how close or not close you should be. We're talking about mine and Isaac's first, magical kiss. So he asks me more questions about my family, and I basically just threw myself at him. I kissed him like, super hard. Like, porn star hard. I wasn't even embarrassed that we were in public. I just couldn't wait another minute to kiss him. I kissed the words right out of his mouth. I kissed him so hard that when we finally broke away from each other, he forgot what we were talking about entirely and so I had to start up a new conversation about our favourite movies. He's so cute. *4. Who said "I love you" first?* It was me! I'm pretty bold, aren't I? It wasn't too long after our first date in the park, either. We went straight back to his place over on the west side of the city, and it was beautiful. We've got the house right out in the country, of course, which is perfect, so quiet and serene and isolated, but wow, the apartment was something else. I'd never seen anything like it before. The locks on the door were huge, and the building had its own security guard. So we went up to his apartment, on the twelfth floor it is. I was spooked at first - the windows were floor to ceiling and you could see the whole city. Isaac noticed that I went a bit pale, and I said that it must feel like the whole city was watching you eat breakfast. He laughed at that, and said that they were tinted. We could see out, but no one else could see in. Isaac got a bit weird at that point. He took my hand, and sat me down on the couch. He told me that he felt like that sometimes, like he could see everyone but no one could see him. I laughed at how dumb that sounded, but I shut up straight away when I could see that he was tearing up. He went on to say that I was the first girl he'd ever gone on a date with, because I seemed to be the first girl who was interested in him. That didn't surprise me. I mean, of course, I think Isaac's wonderful. Sure, he looks like a goofy science teacher and can get a little bit too intense about the Roman Empire. Also, he's super weird whenever we do anything physical. He thanks me afterwards. And he cries. Like, a lot. What was I saying? Oh yeah. He's awesome. He's safe, he's gentle, he's secure. He looks after me. Anyway. He held my hands and sat me down on the couch and told me that he had no experience with women, whatsoever. He was worried that I'd be weirded out. He also said that he was more than happy to take things casually, if I liked. I was free to see other people. That's when I told him that I loved him. It seemed like the obvious thing to say. I mean, when you know, you know. I had to break away for a moment then and use the bathroom. I was completely overwhelmed, you know, emotionally. I splashed my face, and checked my phone. I had to turn it off at that point, I had about twenty five missed calls and I could tell that even Isaac was getting annoyed at it constantly vibrating mid-conversation. So I flushed it down the toilet. I didn't want to run the risk of it turning on by itself. It was a cheap phone anyway, not like Isaac's phone, with all of the latest technology. Full GPS system too, someone can trace you from anywhere in the world. It actually went missing last week, which is a shame, but he has a new one now, so it doesn't matter. It's not like he can't afford it. What? Oh. Yeah. "I love you." Awesome. So I go back into the room and sit next to Isaac. He's still frozen in the same position, and he looks pretty surprised. I'm obviously feeling a little bit upset at this point. I mean, I've just said that I love him, and he's just staring at me. "Don't you love me too?" I asked him. He said that he didn't know. He wasn't sure. As he'd said, he didn't have any experience with women, not even with high school girlfriends, and so he wasn't even sure what being in love with someone felt like. I dropped the subject at that point, but he said it eventually. Of course. We're getting married, aren't we? I'm his princess. Not like, look at me, huge spread in a celebrity magazine, princess, but like, Iet's hole up in a castle in the middle of the mountains kind of princess. It's beautiful. And my feelings haven't changed. I can honestly say that my feelings for Isaac have not changed since the day we met. And that is a promise. Seriously. It's in my vows. *5. Who proposed? How and why did it happen?* I know what you're thinking. Crazy old me must have proposed, right? Wrong! And even though we got off to a pretty speedy start, what with me moving the evening of our first date, our engagement wasn't until about six months later. Moving in wasn't a big deal though. I had my big bag with me, of course, and I had coincidentally received a text from my landlord that my contract had ran out that evening. It must have slipped her mind. Isaac was pretty angry on my behalf. He said that I should get her involved with small claims court and everything, and that he'd be happy to let me use his lawyer. But my lease was on a pretty freelance basis, so I told him it was all chill. I said that I'd find a hotel and maybe sleep on a friend's floor. Was I ever surprised when he asked me to sleep in the spare bedroom! I was completely blown away. I hadn't expected that for a second. Anyway, the big proposal. Okay ladies, as it's a bridal shower, I'm sure you won't mind me going into a few dirty details for this one. Come on, we're all girls here! So. It may come as a surprise to all of you that I am strictly against pre-marital sex. I wasn't always like this. I used to be pretty up for anything - if you're cute and you have nice arms and you are willing to buy me a bottle of Patreon then I am more than happy to hop on board. However, everything changed when I had sort of a spiritual revelation. And coincidentally, it happened a few hours after mine and Isaac's second date. So, we went to a fancy restaurant. We went in a town car and everything, it was incredible. Waiters in waistcoats, antique chandeliers, the works. I was a little jumpy, I have to say. It was coincidentally in the same neighbourhood that my family lived in, but it had nothing to do with that. It was probably the alcohol. There was a lot of it. All free, all unlimited. I only had a glass of champagne - again, I wanted to keep a clear head, just in case. Isaac wasn't as careful, though. And I never thought the boy had it in him, but he was handsy. Under the table, on the way to the taxi cab, I had to keep slapping him away. I'm an emotional women, as you might know, and I still felt pretty hurt that he hadn't reciprocated my "I love you" yet. It wasn't making me feel secure. For all I know, he could have up and left at any point, and invited another girl to sleep in his spare bedroom. Anyway. We get back to the apartment, and we're getting down to business. I'm obviously aware that this is Isaac's first time doing anything physical with everyone, and this isn't my first time at the ball game, to put it mildly. But I can't help thinking about how he hadn't told me that he loved me. He could turn me out at any minute and have some other floozy sleeping in his spare bedroom. I'd be out on the street, at the mercy of whoever lived in the neighbourhood I grew up in. Not that it had anything to do with accommodation, of course. It was all about Isaac. I loved him and I knew that he loved me. I just had to make him realise it. As I said, I was pretty distracted. Isaac was completely focused. He was almost dribbling at this point. My dress was pretty short and strapless, and all you needed to do was undo one zip at the front and then it would be all over. Isaac's hand, shaking, reached for the zip, but I grabbed his wrist before he could get any further. I started crying then. I said that sex had suddenly, in this very moment, become very sacred and special to me. I loved him, and I only wanted to have sex with him for the rest of my life. But how was I to be sure that he felt the same way. Isaac just gaped at me. I could almost hear his brain working at a million miles a minute. I sighed mournfully, my breasts heaving in the hazy moonlight, and I got up to wrap myself back in my sweater. I heard Isaac groan, and I looked him in the eyes and stroked his leg, very very gently with one fingernail. I've never quite heard a man squeak like it, but I will never forget that sound. The words "will you marry me" seemed to fall out of his mouth before he could stop them, and I said "yes" as quickly as I could. It took a few weeks to sign some specially drawn up documents that our engagement was binding, of course, but after that was all down on paper, we got straight into a bit of getting-to-know-each-other, if you ladies catch my drift. And he's fine. More than fine. Magical. Inexperienced, and a little intense. Fond of eye contact, and very specific dirty talk. But magical. Of course. He's my one true love. And nothing's ever going to change that. *6. What is the first dinner that the bride and groom shared together?* Steak. Medium rare. (Taken from the 25/3/19 issue of the Riverton Times newspaper) *TOBACCONIST MURDERER STILL NOT FOUND* *The murder of Tony Puccini, a twenty six year old tobacco salesman from downtown Riverton, was reported four months ago. Despite frantic claims from the Puccini family that it was the victim's aunt's daughter, Maria Nunez, sufficient evidence has yet to be confirmed, despite the accused prints having been found in several locations over Puccini's apartment, where he was found dead in a pool of his own blood, following blunt force to the head. The Pucinni and the Nunez family have been linked to organised criminal activity in the downtown Riverton area for several decades, but no formal accusations to this have ever been made.* *Maria Nunez has claimed to have been missing for several months now, despite the help of neighbourhood watch groups and local police. Mr and Mrs Nunez, and Mrs Nunez's brother Carlo Puccini, have released an emotional statement to the local media that Maria "should come home when she reads this. She is not in trouble, and we just want to talk.