During lunch hour Bryan made the trip through the network of corporate skyscraper office buildings up to the 9th floor of the Bankstreet building to visit Kyle. Kyle was sitting in his cubicle staring at his computer when Bryan rounded the corner. “Hey stranger,” Bryan said in an upbeat voice. Bryan always had a positive attitude in the office environment. “Hey man,” Kyle said as he smiled at seeing Bryan. “How’s your day going?” Bryan asked. “I’m bored as fuck. Just going through the motions this morning. I’ve got a bunch of calls to make that I haven’t made yet.” “You wanna talk about last week?” “I dunno man. I’m still trying to get my thoughts together. It still just doesn’t seem real. I can only get small flashes of memories but I can see them so clearly.” “Like a dream,” Bryan said, nodding in agreement. “Ya.” “Well if you ever wanna talk about it just let me know, I’m right around the corner. I’m always here for you. Let’s get a drink soon, don’t be a stranger eh.” Kyle nodded as Bryan tapped his cubicle and headed off back to his work. Last week Bryan and Kyle had returned from a spontaneous trip to a Pacific island with their 9-5er friends that worked in the same complex of skyscrapers. Some worked for law firms, banks, insurance companies, and they had all decided to take a trip that would break them from their bubble of monotony. They had flown out last week for the two week trip to the island resort. Two rows in front of Kyle was a crying baby that had not stopped vocalizing some sort of discomfort for the majority of the flight. Kyle already hated flying and the short lived efforts by his friends to distract him with cards or sudoku or crosswords only made him more self-conscious of his need to distract himself from flying on planes, particularly this small prop plane flying over the Pacific that to be honest was getting manhandled by the turbulence for most of the flight and Kyle questioned what feats of structural engineering could possibly hold this tin can together. He took off his glasses and put in his contacts in case they had to ditch in the water. He had unlaced his shoes and reminded himself of the location of the life jacket under his seat. Near the front of the plane he could see Fred and Mandy making out again, the clean cut suburban looking middle aged couple next to them looking uncomfortable, straining to keep their eyes in front of them or pretending to sleep - somehow you can always tell when people are pretending to sleep. Across the aisle, Bryan had returned from his long visit to the restroom to compose himself and throw up from the effects of the edibles he had taken before the flight. Next to him his recent girlfriend Breanna was seeming perfectly comfortable with her trip as she had been watching the Planet Earth series nonstop since reaching cruising altitude. A few weeks before the trip Kyle had started making an effort to find a girl on Tinder that would come on this trip, someone to have fun with. He had never travelled with a girlfriend, and didn’t want to be stuck with Nico who was the only other single guy. He could hear Nico behind him snoring. It would be better this way for Kyle, it was probably better to not spend two weeks with someone he just met. Jules and Michael were playing cards a few rows up to Kyle’s left, and he wondered if he should try joining in on the game. No one was talking on the plane and didn’t feel like breaking the silence. All the friends had booked this trip last minute, hence the scattered seating arrangements. They would have all liked to be next to each other on the single-aisled prop plane with only two seats on each side of the aisle. Fred had recently come upon a large sum of money and decided to invite the whole group of his friends to a small Pacific island resort for his birthday, and after the rather tragic year Fred had had and the lack of outings the group had made together no one felt like they could decline the offer and more or less felt obligated to come. They all had the luxury to work remotely or take large amounts of time off anyways, except for Nico who was always willing to quit his job on a moment’s notice for a good trip. The plane descended below the clouds and the small stretch of runway on a peninsula approached on perhaps the only flat piece of land in this mountain-covered part of the Pacific. After landing Bryan b-lined it for the washroom and spent some more time gathering himself. The group headed for the only bar in the airport to have some drinks before their boat would arrive in 30 minutes to take them to their resort. The group made a concerted effort to get shitfaced to kick off their trip. Bryan had returned from the washroom and the edibles were lasting a lot longer than he had expected and he was not sure if he could make the trip on the boat. After everyone had downed a couple of shots, Fred got the text on his phone notifying him that their boat had arrived, and the group sloppily made their way with their luggage out of the airport and down a palm tree lined path down to the water. The driver greeted them with a large smile as a grouping of storm clouds loomed over the water behind him, the driver seeming unphased by the elements his boat floated upon. Bryan told the group he would stay back and catch the next boat to the island, but was informed with a large smile from the driver that the incoming storm might prevent a boat from getting to the island for the next few days. Breanna then shut down his excuses and told him not to be a bitch and get on the damn boat so she wouldn’t be left alone. The boat was a long and thin canoe-shaped island hopping boat with a shelter in the middle propped on four posts, under which the driver stood as he looked out upon the ocean casually as he drove the boat. The motor putted along, and the group now regretted the post flight drinks now that they faced the chop of the Pacific, the ride being much longer than they anticipated and they could not get on solid land again soon enough. The sound of the motor rose and fell as it broke and reentered the water. The driver seemed to continually grin at their state. Bryan was huddled under the overhang, hoping that he would catch less chop in the center of the boat and that he would come down from his high soon, while the rest of the group sat along the benches on the rails of the boat, trying to hold their stomachs together as the rode past the lush mountainous islands wondering which one would be theirs. They rode past other islands with resorts and other establishments clinging to their beaches. Dusk was starting to fall and the beachside bars illuminated the coast and dark waters, with many string lights strung among the buildings and into the forest, looking like stars in the sky. People were partying and lounging on the beaches, and they could hear music emanating from the shores as it bounced off of the green mountains. In the distance they could see a group of people in hula skirts dancing around funnily on the beach. A couple dressed in 80s track suits tore by them on jet skis and gave them big smiles, heading to one of the islands the group had just passed. Most of the buildings were made of colourfully painted wood planks that the paint was now chipping off of due to the elements. It seemed that all that joined these island settlements was the water between them as the islands themselves were unnavigable and had no roads of any sort, the mountains rising quickly behind the beaches. These resorts were all like someone clinging to the edge of a boat in treacherous waters. Michael sat looking out at the scenery, physically the most composed and keeping-it-together of the group, but wondering if he was properly taking it all in and if it was all going too fast. Michael had issues with imposing expectations on his past trips which always cast a cloud of judgement over his trips. He never could fully be present on a trip but would be thinking of how the trip should be. Whether he was enjoying the trip enough or whether he was making the most out of it. He was already thinking of the return flight home and how quickly the trip would go and how he would be back at his job before he could even settle in and enjoy his trip. The driver pointed ahead in the distance at their island as they had rounded another island. It was lush and green, like the tip of a green thumb sticking out of the ocean. It was round all the way around and did not have many inlets or breaks in its shoreline. It was more a green mountain sticking out of the ocean, less an island with a mountain on it. As they approached the coast they could see the resort and its bungalow huts perched on the lower slope of the mountain. When they disembarked the driver took off immediately back into the ocean and they found their own way up to the resort. They checked in at the main building which had a lounge and kitchen, and they were given flashlights by the lady employee to find their way to their bungalows. They walked along the fresh concrete paths through the lush tropical forest to their rooms, the sounds of loud tropical bugs accompanying them the whole way. As they walked Fred was asking Mandy where they should screw, and he suggested they should go down to the beach tonight; he had never had sex on a beach. The resort seemed fairly new. Their rooms were perched on the downslope side of the path, the walls facing out to the water completely open to the air, the beds encircled by mosquito nets. The next morning Kyle was first to the beach. On his second corona he could see Nico trying to get laid, talking to a young girl in a bikini with a group of friends at the beach bar. They laughed. Nico shook her hand and looked pleased with himself and drunk, and he made his way back to Kyle laying on a beach chair under an umbrella in the tropical sun. They discussed what they should get up to on their first day on the island. Nico wanted to meet up with that girl later. Kyle insisted they should do some sightseeing and check out the island on foot. They made their way up to the main building to get more information on possible excursions. The same young lady that had checked them in was working behind the front desk, and it seemed like she was always there and never left. Whenever the others passed she was always there. Her English was surprisingly good. She was a very beautiful island girl, and she informed them that there weren’t many proper trails on the island, but there were some routes up the mountain and along the ridge that she could have one of the employees take them along, they would just let her know what time and she could arrange it, as long as it was before nightfall. She informed them that these were not moderate hiking trails, giggling, and that the group should be in relatively good shape and they should give themselves at least half a day if they wanted to complete the whole route. Nico was not in good shape but was confident in his ability, he had been taking spin classes at the new studio in his office building. They let the lady know that they should be able to handle it. The group decided at dinner that they would do the hike the next day. The next morning they had some drinks and lounged on the beach, some forgetting about their scheduled hike. Kyle started to round the group up and they went back to their rooms to get out of their bathing suits and into their most athletic wear, sliding into their most appropriate shoes for hiking. Michael had only packed flip-flops and somehow no one had noticed that he boarded the plane in flip-flops. They walked up to the main building where the young front desk lady was chatting with a fit man they assumed to be their guide. They introduced themselves and the guide scanned them. He told them he hoped they were ready and hadn’t been partying too much, followed by a cheesy laugh. Nico looked at the guide's calves and began to look at himself the way the guide had and was now doubting his level of fitness. They followed the guide to the edge of the resort, then entered the forest onto the thinly worn trail that was approximately one foot in width. Branches and other vegetation brushed them like reaching arms as they tried to push them aside. The forest was so thick they could only see as far as two or three people in front of them. But it began to thin out as they started uphill onto the steeper slope of the mountain After half an hour of hiking in the humid pacific air the group was sweaty and some were already beginning to tire. A couple in the group had already gone through all their water. The guide still trudged forward at a good pace while the group tried to keep up. The guide kept enforcing that they’d have to keep up if they wanted to return by dark. The guide stopped, realizing some were struggling to keep up, and suggested that if any wanted to turn back they should do it now before the hike got tougher. Nico decided to turn around and take the path back, as well as Fred and Mandy who wanted to screw, and the rest of the group would carry on. They could see it was still a good distance to the top of the mountain which kicked up steeply in front of them. The guide hacked down some coconuts with his machete and showed them to a fresh stream to replenish themselves for the rest of the hike. The conditions were muggy, all their shirts were drenched in sweat. They clawed their way through the hanging tropical plants. At some points when the trail got steeper they could get a view out from the tops of the trees of the pristine blue ocean, the waves looking like faint wrinkles, and the white beaches far below. Kyle, Michael, Jules, Bryan, and Breanna all began to feel their endurance tried now a couple of hours into the hike. “I think we should turn back,” Michael said, at the head of the group behind the guide. Bryan quickly brushed Michael aside and called for the guide to stop so they could talk it over. Jules and Breanna had gone off to take pees. When the girls returned and the group was debating whether to continue, a big explosive bang rang out across the islands and the forest floor shook under their feet, the group having to bend their knees and brace themselves against the nearest trees. “What the hell was that!” Jules yelled out. “Must have been an earthquake. Jesus,” Michael said. They could see some smoke rising over the top of the other side of the mountain and Michael and Bryan ran quickly to the top to get an eye on the situation. They could not see where the smoke was coming from in the distance, but as Bryan pointed out to Michael, there was a surge of water receding from the shore, almost all the way up the lower slope of the mountain. It must have been a tsunami. Some smaller waves followed, coming high onto the shore but not as high as the first they had seen, dismantling any docks and shoreline establishments. As it receded it pulled the structures and wooden debris with it out into the water. They could see some people in the water. When Michael and Bryan returned they asked where the guide was. Kyle gave a few calls for him but heard nothing. When he did not return the group began to search the area for him, peaking through the hanging vegetation trying to spot him. “He was literally standing right there with his machete before that big bang,” Bryan remarked, pointing at the spot he thought he last saw the guide. The group had quickly lost the trail in search of him. “No we came this way. I remember that spot,” Jules said, correcting the direction Michael was taking. “Either way it’s not a big island, let’s just head down and follow the shore back to our resort. We couldn’t see anything on this side of the mountain when we were up there,” Michael said. The group had been hiking for almost five hours now. Back at the resort Nico was trying to call the group about what had just happened, but there was no reception. The sun was now beginning to set as the group began to make their way down in some haste. As they clawed their way down, making no regard for the easiest route, Breanna rolled her ankle on a rock and got extremely frustrated at everyone and the whole situation. After some hiking she began to feel faint, and was having difficulty putting weight on her leg. Kyle and Bryan propped her up on each side of her, her arms around their shoulders so she could hop on her good leg. The group tried again to yell for their guide, but got no response. The clouds were now blocking out the moonlight and there was not much light left to go by. The group finally came across another resort higher up on the mountain after about an hour of hustling down. In the main pavilion of the resort there was an ongoing ayahuasca ceremony with the floor covered in cushions. There were people in a full frenzy, running around or hallucinating bad things while a couple of shamans scurried between them trying to calm them, only a couple of them remained lying down in the cushions. The group asked for help for their friend, and a shaman took a look at her ankle, pointing out two small fang marks on the outside of her ankle that the group could not have noticed, around which the skin was now starting to swell. The shamans said they could not help them at the moment as they were in a moment of crisis, but they could give them some natural rubs and herbs. The shamans seemed more stressed and less zen than they thought shamans should. Another shaman came to them and told them that they should get down to the shore and catch a boat to the mainland where she could get an anti-venom. She was beginning to feel more faint and they could see some bruising beginning to appear on her ankle. Kyle switched out with Bryan as the other crutch and they made their way from the resort down to the shore, having to almost fully carry Breanna at this point. On the beach there was one light off in the distance down the coast, but they did not recognize any of the coast and could not tell if it was their resort. They began to head towards it. Breanna was beginning to lose consciousness and her leg was getting worse. As they walked along they could hear the puttering of a motor approaching and the headlight of a boat was heading for them. The boat beached itself and a man greeted them, asking if they needed help. He told them that their resort was on the opposite side of the island, which they couldn’t understand since they hadn’t crossed the mountain at any point, but it meant that their friends might have been struck by the event and may have been a part of the debris Michael and Bryan had seen washed out. He said he had taken some resorters to the mainland already, and that he could take them there now. The group wanted to check on the resort and if their friends were ok, but Breanna needed medical attention. They pushed the boat off the beach and set out towards the mainland. The boat bumped and pushed aside bits of garbage and debris as they rounded the island to the side that was hit, the light of the boat shining on the dark water in front of them, the driver dodging what large pieces of debris he could see. As they rode along they could see the damage done to the other island resorts. Boats scurried between them trying to perform rescue efforts. A dot of light in the sky began to grow above them like a shooting star. It faintly lit up the night sky but began to illuminate the sea like the sun in broad daylight. The heat of the light grew and after a few seconds it had become so great and bright it blinded all around. The group was brought to their knees, covering their eyes with their arms while trying to keep their heads down. Jules lost her balance and fell from the boat. After a large splashing bang followed by a hissing sound, the night went dark again. They were still blinded and could not see anything, but could hear Jules calling for help in the water. After some time of laying blind in the boat, they regained some of their vision and were able to pull Jules from the water back into the boat. The group pulled themselves together amidst all that had happened, so startled and confused they could hardly think of what to do next, but the driver continued on to the mainland. Breanna was given an anti-venom and a hospital bed and was to make her recovery overnight. The others were sleeping on the ground or slouched halfway down chairs in the hospital room when Nico, Fred, and Mandy walked in and woke them up. A look of shock came across all of their faces, followed by sheer relief as the group embraced each other and shared tears as they were all finally back together. They would end their vacation and take the next flight home.


I went to bed at 11pm,was a little later than usual due to my work deadline, you know how those things can be,I set the clock to go forward at 12,just what I needed with a full day of editing in front of me, less sleep, I settled down, my eyes flitting In and out of sleep, my brain not really wanting to shut down, something woke me with a sudden thump,I couldn't quite understand it, I felt like I had only just dozed off, but there out side,the sun shone and the birds sang,I rubbed my eyes trying to focus,I looked at the clock beside my bed, the time said 7am,ok I thought may have been a restless night ,but let's get up and shower and face the day,at this point my brain hadn't quite woken up,so I did the things I always did, but a part of me had a feeling that something wasn't quite right,as I walked into the bathroom scrambling for my toothpaste and toothbrush,a strange buzzing happened in my ears,thinking it must just be my shower playing up as it does occasionally I took no notice,but as I looked into the mirror I stood back in shock,what had happened? this wasn't my bathroom? That was not me looking back at myself,yet as I looked down, there I was holding my toothpaste and toothbrush in my hands,I looked back up into the mirror and saw a robot, yes a robot staring back at me, but how did that happen? who pulled this prank? I hurried out of the bathroom in a blind panic,everything around me started to crumble and in its place stood a metal box,no windows just a TV screen,sounds of birds were being played from speakers in the courner,I turned to go downstairs to where I left my phone next to my computer,but there was no door, no stairs, "can someone help me" I screamed,the sound of birds halted,a buzzing occured over the speakers then a voice appears "do not worry Simon,you are safe,we apologize for this disruption,we intend to restore the program as soon as we can, please take a seat,your meal will be with you shortly" "but where am I?" "you are on board the SS Sampson,a survivor ship,for survivers of the great war" "what war? It's march 2020 there is no war," "much time has passed sir,the year is 2200",I collapsed on the bed,my hands on my head,"what about my face? What happened to me?" "Please stand by sir, all programs will return to normal,as soon as we can locate the problem" with that the sounds of birds resumed,I lay on my bed not being able to take any of this in,when the tapping that woke me in the first place began again, along with the strange buzzing I had heard earlier,yet this time the sounds made sense to me,the tapping was actually coming from beside my bed,from the wall next to me, the buzzing was a voice asking if anyone was there,I tried to answer but all that I could manage was a mechanical buzzing,why couldn't I speak,I wanted to cry,I wanted to scream, I needed to be able to reach out to someone,but nothing just buzzing and banging,I raised my hand to the wall and banged back hoping that the person would understand, " It's ok Simon I know this confusing,but promise me once they fix the problem you won't remember any of this" I banged again "My name is Cassy, you are one of the last to board this ship,woow I can't believe I'm actually talking to some that went through it,although you can't remember,I was only just born" I tried to speak again,this time a little sound like a sequel erupted. "Hey don't try to speak for now,your circuits are going to be a little rusty,they found you lying there amongst the ash they were looking for survivers,sadly this old girl is going the same way,she's been cruising for quite a while now" I banged on the wall twice in recognition of her explanation,I so badly wanted to ask,how did I become a robot? When yesterday I was typing up a report on global affairs and doing sceduals for next week, "Look I tell you what how about I ask the questions that I think you want answers to and you reply with one bang for yes two for no,will that work? Ok I may not have the answers to everything but I'll try my best ok?" I bang twice, "ok first question,when did the war begin?" I bang once "Not the right questions,hmm ok,let's think,ooh wait listing to that annocement you have just woke up right?" I bang twice, "Ooh no,ok I get you,you can't understand why you look different am I right?" I knock twice "Ok this is gonna take some explanation,it's gonna blow your circuits,sit comfortably I'll begin" I hear a clearing of a throat,then a sigh then she begins in a sad tone. "If I remember from my history lessons or what my mother told me,visitors came to earth around April 2020,from where no one's knows,there was a mass panic,strange lights fell from the sky,people started getting sick and fell in the streets,some people survived the first wave grouped together in caves,discussing what to do next,many months later, starvation kicked in,the skies turned red, many more died, then around December of that year hope came in the form of the SS Sampson,aboard this ships were more visitors from a different world,they rescued those that were clinging onto life,fed them,clothed them,they decided to help with the shock that they would develop a program to restore some form.of normality for these people,of what they had before,they gave them quarters and laid them.into a deep sleep,they repaired those that were injured with parts they could find,and created a hologram program around them,when the people woke up,they all felt it was a bad dream and went about there buissnes as usual,they did a cool thing,I think pretty wacky, but still cool,many years passed,births,deaths,all the same as before no one knowing the reality,well not until now anyway,the ships hit a bit of a stumbling block,and well here you are,your true self,I guess you must of been one of the soilders, one of the last down there,lucky they found you really, as for why you've just woken up surprised me though,they said the program.didnt work on those below,I guess they were wrong." I couldn't believe what I was hearing,me a solider? how could I be,I was a reporter that's all,a consultant in my spare time nothing special,but wait ,if that was the case how was I having dreams about space ship,and astaroids,I thought it was because I watched to much syfy on my telly,after having to much wine and falling asleep during films,what if that wasn't the case,what if it was a glitch in the program and reality was reaching out to me,I banged on the wall twice to thank her. "It's alright,gives you a bit to think about till your circuits work again,heads up foods coming" A hatch opens up in the wall a tray of oil,nuts and bolts arrive and then closes again,I can't eat that I thought, but for one small second,in front of me I could see steak mushrooms and a glass of wine, suddenly ravinous I ate it all,I felt suddenly tired, I lay back on my bunk,all of what Cassy ringing in my head thinking I must never forget repeating it over and over to myself until I closed my eyes. I woke up to the sounds of birds singing,the sun shinning through my curtains,I look at the clock it says 7am,best get up and face the day I thought,I looked into the mirror,tooth brush and toothpaste in my hands,I had a strange feeling in my stomach as I brushed,I showered and went downstairs,picked up my phone,there was over twenty messages, I checked them,each one telling me to get under cover, something was out there, something was coming,I grabbed my armour,drank my coffee, picked up my gun and went about my daily buissnes,ready to fight.


I could not believe what I saw. It has been ten years, and I still cannot believe it. No one else will probably ever believe me either. The incident plagues me to this day, and I firmly believe it will for the rest of my life. Let me introduce myself. My name is Harold and I was just your ordinary house cat. Once full of life and vigor, I now spend my days, lurking through the remnants of a burned down barn in the dell, remembering. I went from a carefree cat to a troubled feline, destined for a life of being constantly haunted of the how and the why it all happened. Always wondering, why was I left behind. It was not always like this though. The lovely old couple that takes care of me found me as a kitten out in their barn. Abandoned. The rest of my litter and my mother gone. They told me that I was probably something they refer to as a “runt.” The man was a farmer, and his wife, a lovely homemaker. Every day she would fill a saucer of milk for me and put out a bowl of food. I would take a nap on the bed while she would clean and run errands. When I got bored of that I would chase the mice out of the kitchen. It was a farm house after all. They were there, and someone had to take care of them. After dinner, when they would sit in the living room by the fireplace, listening to the radio, talking about the day, each working on their own little projects. I would chase balls of yarn around the room as the farmer’s wife tried to knit while the farmer would sneak me scraps of food in between the pages of the book he was reading. This would go on until the wife caught him. She would scold the farmer, they would pack up their stuff, and would head to bed for the night. Once they were all tucked in, I would climb up onto the foot of the bed and make myself comfortable. The next day, it would start all over again. I was living the life. Then one week, the old couples’ son came home for a visit. He brought his wife and baby with him. It was scary at first, but it was not long before I took a liking to this small human. She would throw things for me to chase. And, as it turns out, we both liked to play in the yarn basket. At meal times she dropped so many scraps from the table. I was eating like a king. The son and his wife were great too. They were always ready to pet me and offer me a lap to lounge upon. I was starting to hope that they would stay forever. That is, until that fateful day occurred. The old couple had left to town for the evening. Something about a church function. To this day, I still do not know what that is. I was left in the house with the son and his family. The son and his wife went into the kitchen to make lunch, leaving me in the living room with their child. We were happily playing with the basket of yarn, which had become our habit. She would through the yarn and I would chase and tackle it. She would crawl over, grab the yarn, and do it again. This had been going on for a good ten minutes when she threw it into the fire. At first, I was disappointed as this meant that our game was now over. I had learned the hard way as a kitten to not get too close to the fire. My singed tail served as a reminder of that for weeks. I saw that ball of yarn go into the fire and knew it was unreachable for me and I hoped that this child knew that it would be unreachable for her as well. I turned around and began to walk away, looking for something new to occupy my time. All of the sudden the room felt significantly warmer. I tuned around to look at the fire and was shocked to see that it had grown and was starting to leave the fireplace. It had never done this before. The fire seemed to have climbed along the tail of yarn leading out of the fireplace. It had climbed all the way to the basket of yarn and had set it aflame as well. I let out a loud meow and the child began to cry. Both of her parents ran into the room. They saw what was happening and began to yell. Almost simultaneously, the son grabbed his wife as his wife grabbed the child. I remember the son saying, “we need to get out, now!” They rushed out of the house. This is when all chaos ensued. And where my new life of hopeless abandonment began. It did not strike me as important at the time, but, as I reminisce, it seems to me to be an important detail to the story. When her mother picked her up, the child had a doll in her hand that her grandmother had made for her that morning to play with. It was a nurse and it was made of fresh hay. The child loved it. Why is this important? Well, as the family rushed out of the house, which was quickly becoming more engulfed in flames by the second, doll in hand, they ran pass the cow pen. The one of the cows caught the scent of the fresh hay that the doll was made out of. Apparently had to have it. He bust out of the pen and started to follow the family. The other cows looked up at the sound of the pen being busted open. When they looked up, they saw the flames coming out of the house. They got scared and followed the first cow. Pandemonium was beginning to arise. Now, while I was the only animal that the old couple had inside, they had several animals outside. And not just the cows. One such animal was the old coonhound. No longer able to go hunting, his job was to look after the cows. This old dog was in the barn when he heard the cows get out of their pen. When he stuck his head out of the barn door, he saw the cows breaking out. He turned to see what had happened and saw the house in flames. The old hound began to bark. He ran in the same direction as everyone else. I am not sure whether it was to try and round up the cows or to get away from the flames, but I am pretty sure it was a mixture of both. All of the dog’s barking got the attention of the barn cat who had been chasing a mouse in the barn. Apparently, this mouse had gone unnoticed in the house as I was playing with the child, and was able to sneak out into the barn with a hunk of cheese from the kitchen. This barn cat was an experienced hunter though. He was not going to let the mouse get away a second time. I had always admired him for that. I believe he was about to finish the job when he heard the dog barking. He ran, spooked, out of the barn as well, mouse with cheese in mouth. The mouse dropped the cheese in all of the commotion as the cat ran off with it in the direction of everyone else. This image has been burned into my brain forever. The air around me is filling with smoke, curtains and beams were starting to fall. But all I can see is that cheese, standing alone. The cheese stands alone. Just like me. Left behind. Forgotten. Standing alone. It is getting nearly impossible to breathe. I begin to cough and it snaps me back into reality. I am able to find my way to the door and run out of the house. I try to run after the family, but I had inhaled so much smoke. I did my best to follow the path they took, wheezing the entire way. In a few minutes I see them in the distance. I continue to crawl along, trying to get to them. I attempt to meow, but I cannot. It turns out, the smoke had done irreversible damage to my lungs. I see the old couple come racing up to where the son, his family, and all of the animals have congregated. “Oh my goodness! Is everyone okay?” the old woman asks. “What happened?” the farmer demanded, “did everyone get out?” “Everyone is okay. Everyone made it out. We are all here,” the son said. He begins to explain to what happened. There is a problem though. Everyone was not all there. I was not there. Apparently, it did not matter though. After the son finished telling the old couple what had happened, they all hugged and drove off in the car. A couple of days later, the farmer showed up with a big truck. I felt a pang of hope rise up in me. He had returned for me. All of the other animals were loaded up into the truck. I tried to make my way to the farmer from my hiding spot. But I was still weak, it was a struggle. I figured it would be okay. He would look for me, right? I was wrong. Once the last cow was loaded up, the farmer drove off. He did not even look for me. Again, like the cheese, I stood alone. I never saw any of them again. I slunk back to my hiding spot. Over time, I regained my strength. I returned back to the burned remnants of the barn. It was all that was left of the only home that I ever knew. Now, day after day I lurk around. I think. I hunt mice. I think some more. I keep going over that day in my head. How could they forget me? Why would they leave me behind? Do they miss me? Why did they never come back? These questions haunt me day in and day out. I have accepted the fact that I will probably never know. All I know is that, now, I stand alone.


I I cannot recall how I ended up in a small foreign town on Easter night. I do not even remember where this town was, what it was like, or what kind of people lived there. I only recall the Easter evening and the ritual with which the folks there celebrated Easter, or so I assumed. No one told me, nor did I ask anyone, if they believed in the same God as we did in my home country or if they had heard about the resurrection. I discovered everything later. I cannot recall how I ended up at the seaside. People were gathering there slowly. I joined them as well. I remember their hazy figures but not their faces. There were not many of them. I did not think there was any cruel ritual of execution or sacrifice left in the world, but that is what I witnessed that evening, for the first and probably last time. The death-sentenced person was a young, thin, black-haired woman. She was wearing a white gown. Her hair was down in front, and I could not see her face. All I could notice was her unusually pale skin. The young woman was walking toward the sea. I knew that once she embraced the waves, she would never return. It was impossible to read her emotions, but I got the impression that she was waiting for death indifferently, or maybe I was wrong and her hair was thrown down over her face so that we could not see fear or sadness in her eyes. The young woman entered the sea silently and began to carry out the punishment. It was bizarre. All of this seemed more like complicit suicide than execution or sacrifice. While she was suffering, people were just watching. Her agony lasted too long. From time to time, her thirst for life would overcome her. She would try to leave the water, only to continue battling with her hunger for life. At some point, I started observing the audience, and I noticed that everyone was crying quietly to themselves. Some of them were watching the young woman, who was on the verge of death, while others were looking down. But no one, none of us, attempted to save her. I used to think of such rites entirely differently. I assumed that everyone there was either there to watch the show or to execute the sentence. Here, it was different. They appeared to be offering the victim their support as they accompanied her on the final journey while sobbing in silence. When would the tortured soul, longing for life, depart the body? It was so distressing to watch the struggle between death and life. After some time, the woman vanished into the water. That is how it all came to an end. People stood with their heads bent for a while and then silently started moving toward the city. I remained there all alone for a while. It was getting dark, so I decided to go home. Suddenly, I realized that I did not know how to get there. Fear gripped my entire being. I was all alone on the outskirts of a completely foreign town. All of a sudden, something completely unexpected happened. The body was propelled out of the water and began to move in the air. I was so terrified looking at this scene. I wish I were in the world of dreams, but all of this was happening, and I never woke up. Slowly, the woman's body fell to the ground. Her entire body and face were purple. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and turned her face toward me. II Despite wanting to run away, I stayed for some reason. For me, she looked horrific. Now that I look back, she was not scary at all. She was stunningly beautiful, but I did not notice it as I saw a purple face for the first time in my life. I stood frozen, staring at the strange creature. Fear slowly vanished, but my curiosity did not. I could not wait to see what would happen. For a brief moment, the alien gave me a blank stare. It seemed like she was trying to recall who she was, where she was, and what had happened. Slowly, delight began to fill her large eyes, and all of a sudden, she smiled broadly at me. I was hesitant to respond with a smile. All I did was shake my head. A weird creature unexpectedly turned to me and said, 'We're going to your house'. Her voice was both commanding and extremely kind. I intended to reply that I would not bring her to my home. I loved living alone and did not want some ugly creature as my roommate. But then I remembered that I did not know how to get home. Meanwhile, the creature was confidently moving along the path. She would undoubtedly know how to get me home. There was no other option; I had to follow her. In the end, I decided to stay quiet for now and create an excuse to make her leave once we got home. We walked silently for a while. It was already getting dark when we left the town. One star at a time, then another, and eventually the entire sky was covered with stars. It was such a magnificent sight! The creature looked up when I pointed to the sky. She started staring at the stars with such amazement that I realized that she had never seen a starry sky before. Our brief nonverbal exchange gave me some confidence, and I finally found the courage to speak up. "How did you discover where I live?" I finally asked. "I do not know where you live. But the moment I saw you, I felt your longing for home. And now I am trying to reach the place where that feeling is coming from". I was not expecting such a response, but perhaps nothing would surprise me anymore. "Why don't you return to your town? Can you recall what happened? Or why do you keep following me?'' "I remember everything. This is why I am unable to return to my house. Let us agree. I will take you to your place, but you promise that you will shelter me". "I have a request too. You must tell me your story, but without hiding anything from me. If you tell me everything honestly and explain what I witnessed at the seaside, I will let you live with me". "Let's head over to your place and have coffee. And I swear I'll tell you everything afterward". "Deal! Do you have a name?" "I used to have one, but I think you should give me a new one''. "I will give it a thought''. Following that, we engaged in a lot of small conversations, and we learned that we were both huge fans of coffee. I promised to make her my favorite breakfast this morning. On our way, we passed numerous stunning lilacs. That was the creature's first encounter with flowers, and she was amazed. In her town, there were no flowers or yellow dots in the sky (she referred to stars as yellow dots). I decided to call her Aaina. III We walked until dawn. When I felt that I was too exhausted to move, Aaina turned to me and said, 'We have arrived.' I looked around and became confused. This was not my home. Or rather, it had once been, but it had been years since anyone lived here. "Why are we here? It's been a while since I've lived here''. “I've been honest with you about the fact that I have no idea where you live, but the feeling that I was following brought me here. Shall we enter or not?" I nodded in agreement, and we walked inside. There was a silence, the kind of silence that exists in abandoned houses and has not been disturbed by the human voice in years. Everything was covered in dust. I decided to look around the house. I was even more confused when I entered the kitchen. The entire kitchen was covered in huge black stains as if they had been purposefully applied. Later, I discovered a dead bird in my bedroom that had already turned into a skeleton. It must have flown in through the hole and been unable to leave. So that is where the stains in the kitchen came from. We cleaned the whole house. After that, I bought some food and coffee at the market. While drinking coffee, we had a lot of small talks, and I could not wait for Aaina to start telling me her story. She kept her word and spoke up. "This ritual has been existing in our town for centuries. So much time has passed that even my people have forgotten where and how it all began. Every year, any of us can give ourselves up and transform into another form of being. However, this happens much more rarely, as only a few people dare to give up their own present lives on purpose. It is neither punishment nor sacrifice. You chose this path yourself. People do not have the authority to name a "Chosen One'', and even if they did, I am sure they would not sacrifice anyone. My people love each other far too much. Usually, almost no one manages to transform. Everyone who chooses this path probably believes that he is an exception and has the power to do so. You may have noticed that only a few people attended today's ritual. Most people are unable to watch such a sight with their own eyes and prefer not to attend. When the inhabitants are certain that the soul of The Chosen One has left the body, they return to the town and come back to the seaside at dawn. If the body was not carried to the shore by the waves, it means that he was able to transform. But much more often, once every few years or perhaps once every century, one sunrise is incredibly tragic for us. When we see a lifeless body brought by the waves to the shore, it is as if we lose faith in the miraculous and think we are all responsible for what happened. The thought that this sunrise will not be like that for my people gives me immense joy. I would like to ask you something. Do not forget that I will gradually fade and weaken so that I can become part of eternity. Be prepared for it and try not to get too used to me''. IV That is how Aaina and I met and started living together. So far, I had no idea how long I would stay in my hometown and had not gotten in touch with anyone yet. I knew that Aaina's stay was temporary and that her body would eventually fade away and merge with eternity. I was not sure what was going on with her or what the transformation meant. What I knew was that my human mind would never be able to comprehend this. We used to walk around and talk a lot. She would tell me about her town, and I would show her mine. There were no flowers or stars in her town, but many things were going on that I had never heard of, and she would ask me not to tell anyone anything. I remember the moment we became aware that Aaina's body had begun to vanish. I went shopping on my own and bought her a stunning floral dress. She loved the dress and immediately changed into it. While watching herself in the mirror, she became confused all of a sudden and looked at her hands. I also looked and saw that her purple body was paler than usual. For a moment, sadness seemed to settle in her eyes, but it quickly turned into joy. Two weeks after our meeting, Aaina was already feeling very weak, and I could see her slowly fading away. She was no longer able to take walks with me in the sunshine, but as soon as the sun rose, I would open the windows, and the entire house would be brightened. She enjoyed sitting by the window. She would stare at the sunset without looking away, but as soon as the sun went down, I could see the sadness in her eyes. Every night she would go to bed with the hope that the sun would rise again the next morning. I was not sure how many more sunsets I would see with Aaina, but I slowly realized that I did not want her to fade away. She was so weak after one month of our first encounter that one morning she was unable to get out of bed. However, she soon discovered other small pleasures. As soon as the sun rose, I would raise the curtains in her room and bring her hot coffee. Once, on my way home, I passed a flower shop and saw numerous flower pots for sale. I chose lilac since I recalled Aaina's very first reaction to it. When I got home that evening, I found Aaina extremely sad. When she heard my footsteps, she looked at me, and I saw that her eyes were full of tears. She burst into tears as soon as she saw me. I got concerned and sat next to her, waiting for her to calm down. "Today I realized how much I miss my town'', she said at the end, after she had finally calmed down. " More precisely, I have already been missing it a lot, but today I had the strongest desire to go home. And it makes me extremely sad to know that I can't go back there. More importantly, that was my choice; nobody pushed it. I was aware of the price, but I naively believed that I would not look back. You know, these days I am thinking that even if I am really weak, such a longing would certainly give me the strength to return home, but I am afraid of what would happen there. The Chosen One is never seen again by our folks. This is the rule, and nobody has ever broken it. Our people have no right to take back The Chosen One. But does the fact that something has never happened before truly mean that it will never happen in the future? Perhaps I will be the first among the transformed ones to head back home. Maybe my people, like me, will break the rule and accept me joyfully. Furthermore, I have a feeling that these are my final days and I will soon be gone, which makes me desire to return home even more. Is it, however, a true transformation? The transformed ones have no desire to go back home. They do not fantasize about transforming back into their original form of existence. Still, from time to time, this longing vanishes, and I am once again overcome with delight that I have been enlightened". One day, Aaina attempted to leave the house, but she could not cross the yard. She felt embarrassed when I found her lying in the yard. She assured me and herself that she did not want to return home sufficiently; otherwise, she would be able to. V On the fortieth morning, as soon as I woke up, I sprang up to make coffee for Aaina and raise the curtains in her room. I was hoping to find her in a nice mood. I entered her room, and she was not there anymore. I got so nervous. I had no idea what to do. I opened the closet, checked under the bed, and went out to the balcony, but she was nowhere to be seen. Then I quickly put on my robe and rushed outdoors, hoping to find her. I looked for her for a long time but could not find her. I went back home in the hopes of finding her letter. I looked around the entire house but did not find anything. I never found out what happened to Aaina. Did she succeed in entering eternity, or did her homesickness grow stronger and give her the strength to return home? Did her society welcome her or reject her? I would never know. Maybe someday I will come up with the final chapter of her story, but not yet.


I don't remember the time before the ocean. I don't recall a time when the waves weren't tossing weights across my body threatening to pull me to the gentle foreboding of the earth's watery depths. All I know now is hold on tight to the fragmented raft I was upon and pray for land. I don't remember who told me that though. I don't know how long I have been here, the sun comes and goes. I can't remember to remind myself to keep count of the sun. Before... who was I before? My thoughts race and I feel my blistered lips. I can remember the feeling of fresh cool water traveling past my lips and splashing down my throat but I don't remember who I am. I can remember music but not the dances. I still hear it when the moon is reflected into the water, the reminiscing haunting sounds of the voices I once knew. If I ever even knew them. I pretend I do. It makes the exhaustion I feel in my bones easier to bear. My legs feel like they've become part of the ocean, my trousers no longer heavy on my body. Sometimes I feel something brush against me but I tell myself it's only fish. I can barely hold my head up anymore, my stomach stopped growling days ago. He gazes up at the poor soaked creature and wonders if it's injured. He would rise to the surface and brush against it to check for movement. Waiting until nightfall to push the creature to the rocky shoreline of where he called home. Home for as long as he could remember. There was a ship some moons ago, he watched it catch flame as the men with loud noises ripped it apart. He retreated further into his home and begged they would not come to his island. He stayed curled and trembling, hidden under the safety of the jagged shoreline and waited. Waiting for dawn was a winning game for someone with no memory and nothing to lose. After the sunlight spilled over the horizon and hit his bare skin he knew it was safe. Slipping himself out from between the rocks he braced himself against the waves and began swimming towards the cadaverous remains of the ship. He took rope and tied together some remains, that was when he heard the crying. He swam tentatively towards the sound and saw them. A mess of wet brown curly hair and dark skin, the fabric of their shirt clinging to their body. Someone told him a story about salty tears and salty oceans but now he couldn't remember how it went as he swam closer. It was a person to be sure, so he ducked underwater and swam a bit closer. Long dark legs and ripped trousers and their shirt exposing their midriff floated along the top of the sea. The legs kicked when he reached a hand out and startled him away back to his cove. He waited a moon to return to the wreckage, and when he did he saw the person again. This time he decided that if it's still alive tomorrow he would drag it to shore and see what it did. He took back to the wreckage and perused about seeing what caught his interest. He took back his findings and waited until daylight the next day. He repeated his journey to the floating body and found it still kicked when he touched their legs. This settled it. He pulled down. Water burns. It burns in my lungs as it's all I consume as it envelops me. It burns in my chest and I reach for anything, kicking my legs, thrashing my arms and I know something is holding me. Water burns in an oxymoronic way that there are endless hours and the sweet sorrow of goodbyes. My head breaks the surface and I inhale the blinding atmosphere and then I'm plunged back into the sea. My hair swamps my face and I feel weaker and weaker. The weight of the water fills my body and I find myself thinking this isn't so bad. Then I feel the sand under my toes. Then my calves Then I'm thrown onto the soft sand. My eyes flutter open and shut and I see a face hovering over mine. A life giving kiss. They push air into my lungs and compress my chest until I feel the water backtrack out of my body and I lean over and throw up the ocean I had inhaled. Falling on my back, I see hair the color of the sand and eyes such a vivid color, I scramble my mind to remember the name. My vision spots out and my last thought before the darkness consumes me is: green. It's pretty, he mused. His fingertips grazing over the creature, their hair was coiled about their face in the sand like a halo. He hoped they would wake up. He dragged them up higher from the tide and left them in the shade of a tree. He waited. He dribbled coconut water on their blistered pink lips. Waiting would reward his curiosity in time, this he knew. I was awake by the time the sky was streaked with orange and pink. Sleep had never felt so delicious. I knew Green Eyes was next to me without opening my eyes, he pushed water through my lips and traced my face with his fingertips. A man. I felt him lower water to me again and I opened my eyes slowly. His green eyes freeze in fear and he scrambles away from me, dropping the water in the sand. I slowly push myself towards a seated position, resting on the base of a tree, my muscles unfamiliar with gravity from floating in the sea for who knows how long. My eyes readjust to the dimming light and I see him. He's close to the ground , his muscular arms holding him up. “Hello,” I croaked out, my voice unused. My body aches all over. I try a smile, but my head feels hazy. I close my eyes again. He pulls himself closer to me, I slump into his shoulder unwillingly, my body just gives out. It spoke! Their voice drier than the lips from which the greeting fell from, but they spoke! He pondered what to say to them when they awoke but decided to wait until the moment was right. He left them against the tree and retreated into the sea, his body was unexplainably hot from the person against him. He sinks into the sea hoping to quell his nerves. He hadn't spoken out loud in quite some time, he had sung of course, every night. He tasted the greeting in his mouth, he then remembered their mouth. The curl of their lashes. The way their nose sloped and the way their dark cheekbones were blushed with sunburn. He shook his head and looked towards shore. They were standing! He anxiously swam to shore and felt the waves roll against him softly. “ Hello! “ he called out to them, his voice resonating in his chest. He waved. He watches as the realization strikes on their face. He watches them stumble towards the shoreline and stand a few feet away. The sun is slowly sinking now, the same way they are as they fall into their knees. The sudden flashing memory of a woman comes across his mind, the heaving chest, the curve of her waist the way her hips filled his hands. He found these similarities in the person now staring at his posed form. The creature he saved was a woman. He pulled himself closer, so she pulled away. “Hello there,” he murmurs, a hidden melody dancing in his throat. Somewhere in him inching and her inching away, she stopped moving. He inched closer and closer and the sky covered them in a gentle blanket of inky blue. He pushed her onto her back and watched her brown skin grow hotter under his touch. He was almost on top of me. His strong arms caging me in and his green eyes peering into my soul. His tail pressed against my bare calf, and I could feel the cool wet scales dragging against me. His tail was so long it stretched beyond my feet. His tail. His tail. This is factual. His hand trails up my bare stomach and he pushes my hair out of the way. He lowers his head and places a single kiss on my collarbone, I stretch my neck exposing more skin for him. My eyes flutter up to the stars, they twinkle gently and unchanging. They are the last thing I see before I feel his teeth sink into my stupidly exposed neck and he kills me. Sirens.


My village is long gone, reduced to ashes that the wind has long since scattered. My sanity fled the year my child would have turned seventy, leaving behind a hollow shell that echoes with memories. How does one deal with being ageless when everything tethering you to life vanishes in the blink of a battered and bruised eye? You don’t. You survive because the curse demands it. But I refuse to merely exist. There is only one thing that keeps me moving forward now--the purpose that drives my every breath, every motion. But that purpose remains locked deep within me, hidden behind a mask of compliance. My smile is chiseled in place as I watch him glide across the room like a phantom. His movements are fluid, every step a dance of grace and authority. The candlelight flickers across his pale skin, making him seem almost ethereal, a being untouched by the darkness that claws at my insides. His life’s vision, so meticulously crafted, is now complete. His people adore him; they whisper and gasp as he pays each person within arm's reach a personalized compliment. “Lord Diagine, it’s wonderful to see you back.” “Madam Kar, your visit to the new tailor has paid off beautifully.” The King’s voice is a smooth purr, each word carefully chosen to delight his subjects. He grants each of them the compliment he senses they crave, his tone dripping with honeyed charm. They feel loved, seen, and understood. It is only I who sees him weaving his magic, turning them into simpering fools. He takes his time making his way to the throne, relishing the adoration that follows him like a shadow. But I focus on the others--the ones who stand on the outskirts of the room, shrouded in the cool darkness where the light of his charm does not reach. These are the people who don’t swoon at his every word, who don’t beg for his scraps of empty praise. They are the worthy ones, the ones who are no longer under his spell. Their eyes are sharp, their expressions guarded, as if they suspect that not everything is as it seems. They are the ones who come to me, seeking understanding, solace in the shadows. My frozen smile is unwavering as I watch him take his place on the throne. His people adore him, but their adoration is shallow, a mere reflection of the power he exudes. My thoughts remain my own, locked away from his prying eyes. "My Queen," his voice intrudes on my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I blink, the King has stopped beside me, his fangs glinting in the low light, his expression a sickening mix of concern and condescension. The cold, metallic scent of his presence fills the air, mingling with the heavy perfumes and the faint, sweet aroma of blood that always lingers in these halls. “Are you well? Do you wish to be excused from the proceedings?” "I am well, my King," I reply, my voice smooth as velvet, though laced with a practiced sweetness. I bat my eyelashes at him, a gesture he takes as demure compliance, and he gives me a slight nod, satisfied, before turning away to sit on his throne. My stomach churns at the words--my King--but I force myself to keep the smile in place. I have played this role for centuries, and I will continue to play it, until the time is right. A maid rushes forward, her hands trembling as she kneels before her King, holding out a roll of parchment. She does not look upon him, for that is forbidden. She is human. Pure human, and terrified, as she should be. Her skin is pale, her eyes wide, and I can hear her heartbeat--rapid, frantic, a drumbeat of fear that echoes in my ears. All the pure vampires track every tremble, their hunger ignited by the anxiety rushing through her veins. The King lightly takes the parchment from the girl, his fingers brushing against the paper with an almost dismissive grace. He does not spare her a glance, believing that by ignoring the human maids, he will encourage his people to do the same. But he is so very wrong. I see the flood of blood-red eyes tracking her as she skitters out of the room. Her retreat is swift, like a rabbit fleeing a pack of wolves. I, too, watch her, but my eyes are cold, devoid of hunger or desire. The King reads the parchment aloud, his voice filling the room with a dull cadence. His people listen as if he were a priest reciting psalms in Latin, their attention rapt, though devoid of true understanding. He assigns tasks, keeping his people busy with his grand but futile goal of preserving nature. ~~ A sharp feeling halts me mid-sentence, but I continue reading from the parchment, though my eyes flick to the Queen. Her gaze follows the maid as she rushes from the room, her expression inscrutable. The room feels colder now, the air thick with tension. A chill runs through me as I sit on the throne, allowing my people to discuss my latest plan among themselves. I take this moment to push into the Queen's mind, a skill she knows I possess but one I’ve always kept surface-level, gleaning only superficial thoughts. Her mind is a storm, roiling with thoughts and emotions that are kept just out of reach, shrouded in a mist that I cannot penetrate. It’s as if she’s hiding something--something I cannot see, and that troubles me more than I care to admit. I drum my fingers on the armrests. The cold stone beneath my fingertips is a stark reminder of the control I must maintain. This is indeed troubling. Her demeanor has changed subtly over time, and I have been too preoccupied to notice. I have worked my entire life to bring us to where we are today. I cannot allow anything to disrupt the delicate balance I have achieved. My Queen has grown distant, her thoughts harder to read, a subtle shift that stirs unease within me. Purebloods are naturally stronger than the turned, but even the mightiest being can be undone by what festers in the shadows. I fear what is brewing beneath her silence. Standing tall, I address my people, “My apologies, everyone. Please discuss and prepare your questions regarding the newest venture, and we will reconvene tomorrow.” After acknowledging their surprise with a nod and offering a reassuring smile, I turn and offer my Queen a hand. “Let us take a break, my Love.” As her eyes meet mine, her face remains unreadable. She takes my hand, but there is no warmth in her touch. The air between us is thick with unspoken words. We walk hand in hand from the room. Those who linger to discuss plans bore their eyes into my back, sensing that something is amiss, craving to know more to stave off any unwelcome surprises. But I cannot give them any warning. As the heavy doors close, sealing off the assembly room and the swirling emotions within, I feel the crisp, clear air. We are alone in the long gallery corridor. The sour scent of her bitterness sharpens as she pulls her hand from mine. “I shall return to my rooms now, my King.” She performs an elegant bow, and without waiting for my response, she escapes down the hall, her golden dress trailing behind her like the fading light of dusk. I watch as she reaches the end and turns out of sight. When I can no longer hear the click of her heels on stone, I snap my fingers. My familiar, a sleek black cat, unfurls from the shadows. Poised with tail flicking in agitation, emerald eyes piercing through walls towards what even I cannot see, he awaits my command. “Choose three of the best and meet me on the human level,” I command, my voice flat, my mind already placing my heart in a protective box. What comes next will carve a scar through my entire being. The cat slips back into the shadows, awaiting only the confirmation of my intent. A familiar sees all and obeys, bound to me as its sole tether to a physical form. I once attempted to name him, as humans do with their pets, but he rejected it. He is an excellent companion, but he remains nameless. I don’t follow my Queen. I know where she will go eventually. Instead, I turn in the opposite direction. My pace is measured, my pulse quickening with anticipation. I follow the hall to the curved staircase that leads upward. The top floor is for the humans. They work in the background of the castle, doing all the tasks their kind are so accustomed to. They love windows, so we give them the floor with the most, and they even have access to the roof. Vampires dislike windows in their living quarters, so we live below. The stairs lead me toward the faint glow of natural light, something most turned vampires cannot endure but which we purebloods can tolerate. My mother, a priestess who claimed I was the son and heir of a god of chaos, believed that this connection to divine power allowed me to thrive where others could not. Though I rarely seek out the light, her words echo in my mind whenever I feel its warmth. I walk the halls, taking in the beauty of the art that decorates every available space. Most of my collection comes from human history, but there are a few new vampire works scattered throughout as well. I encourage my people to partake in the leisure arts; it has proven to help immensely in balancing one’s self. The dusk sunlight from the windows catches motes of dust, making the world sparkle. I cannot hide my smile, even as the sun's rays itch at my skin. I traverse to the sleeping area for the humans. Each family has its chambers lining the hall. As I turn a corner, glancing at the family names above each door, a hiss filled with rage and hatred greets me. The Queen is standing in the hall, snarling at me, her pure rage outlined in her tense posture and curled fingers. Behind her are two males, not as angry as their queen, but more desperate--a desperation that can be even more frightening than anger itself. I let out a huff, attempting to defuse the situation and give her a chance to back down, to see the error of what she is trying to do. “How dare you read my mind!” she growls, spit flying as she grasps for words to fling at me. “You promised never to read my mind! You are a liar and...” “My love, what you are choosing to do is a concern for not only me but every soul here,” I interject. Her face turns pink as her rage boils over, her power surging forward. “How dare you!” “We must talk. Let us take a walk to the kitchens; we will get you a refreshing drink.” My words are useless; they fall on deaf ears. “I will save us all!” she screams, a wind starting to howl through the hall, the smell of bedlam riding on it. My mind briefly grieves for the art that will be damaged, but thankfully all the humans are hiding from the sight of vampires rampaging in their halls. “You will save no one by killing the humans.” I take a step forward, but her grin makes me hesitate. She opens her arms wide, encompassing the entire space. The wind gains speed, whipping the hair of her followers wildly, though she remains still. Only the sleeves of her gown are affected by the now howling wind. “Stop this tantrum now, or you will compel me to retaliate,” I say, widening my stance and pushing down the urge to unleash my full power. “I am the eldest vampire, the most powerful among us. Would you challenge your king?” She laughs, a crazed, acrid sound that reverberates in my bones. Something has gone terribly wrong with my Queen. She must have reached her expiration; her bloodlust has taken hold. Her kind never last long. They always bicker and kill each other off. But as Queen, she has lived a long life. It saddens me that I didn’t recognize the signs earlier. “You torture my kind. You leave them in ruins, in decayed homes. You feed them useless sludge. You wish to purge us from the world while holding the humans in gold-plated prisons.” “You will remember that I gave the turned humans a good village outside the castle. I gave them protection, houses, and food. The world of misery they live in is entirely of their own creation.” I allow my power to manifest. Darkness envelops the hall, even as her wind stings, slicing across my exposed skin. “You will cease, or die!” The shadows press down on her and her men, forming a barrier that traps the wind within. Her scream tears through the air as she rushes toward me, her nails reaching for my face, her eyes burning with madness. I mold the shadows around her, trapping her in the deepest darkness, unable to move, unable to see. My familiar takes this moment to stroll through the chaos and plop down at my feet. I glare at him, but he ignores my look, lifting a paw to delicately wash. Before I can ask if he was able to complete my orders, I hear the hissing and fighting as my men subdue hers. I have won. But what should we do with the Queen now? Her men will need to die, but the Queen requires a ceremony to signify her end to the people. Slightly elevated in the air she struggles within the shadows, elbowing the air, frantically kicking and circling like a caged animal--classic signs of bloodlust. I sigh and lessen the darkness surrounding her, tightening it to prevent her movement. “You think you have won,” she sneers, her fangs piercing her lip in her frenzy. Her thick, dark blood coats her teeth as she smiles at me. “Of course, I have won. Did you think I would let you drive an entire race to extinction? I am your King. You will be put away until I decide how to proceed.” I turn as I flick my hand, commanding the shadows to bind her and drag her along. “You. Are. Not. My. King.” Her breath hitches from the binding shadows, but the seething intent behind her words is unmistakable. I pause, turning back to her. I have let her live far too long. This is my fault. I should have been more aware of her change. How did I not notice it? I open my mouth to speak, but her crazed laughter makes me stop. My familiar is suddenly on edge, back arched and hissing. Her eyes bulge, but her laughter doesn’t stop--it only grows more jagged and sharp. In a sudden, violent burst, she shatters the shadow binds, her power overwhelming my control. The darkness dissipates as her wind surges forward, knocking me back. She lunges toward her followers, her hands clawing at the shadows holding them down. With a guttural roar, she tears through the restraints, releasing them one by one. “You think you can stop me?” she snarls, her voice raw with fury. “I will free my people, and we will find a place where your rule cannot touch us!” A fierce wind surges through the halls, nearly knocking me off my feet. My heart pounds as I fight to stay upright, the powerful gusts tearing paintings and tapestries from the walls as if they were mere paper. She glares at me one last time, her eyes burning with hatred and defiance. “This is not over,” she spits, before turning to lead her followers down the hall. I stand frozen in disbelief as she flees with her men, her power unleashed in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The art that once adorned these walls now hurtles toward me in a storm of chaos. The weight of the situation presses down on me, the realization sinking in that I may have underestimated her strength and resolve. I could chase them, end this here and now, but something in me hesitates. The shadows ripple around me, sensing my indecision. My familiar, now silent, watches the Queen and her followers retreat, his eyes narrowed. The hall falls eerily quiet, the wind and chaos leaving a strange stillness in their wake. “Hmmm,” I murmur, feeling the need to say something. “This will have to be dealt with.” My men, still in shock, exchange uneasy glances. My familiar, however, lets out a sound that can only be described as a disdainful snort.


We are meeting at the fenced off old amusement park tonight. The one with the signs warning about danger and not entering, and we are going to ride the roller coaster that is still under official investigation after that terrible accident there last month. The one that claimed two young lives and inflicted what the mealy-mouthed call life-altering injuries on two more. We will walk past the deflated bouncy castle, where pools of water have already gathered in the flaccid, fading plastic folds, and past the waltzers that waltz no more, and past the dodgem cars that do not bump into each other with flashes of fluorescent light, and past the ghost train where the synthetic screams have been silenced. I have never much seen the appeal of roller-coasters, though I’m not afraid of them of course (and this is a simple statement of self-evident fact, not a boast). But we believe in playing fair, and Naomi loves roller coasters and fairgrounds. It’s my turn to pick next month. I have already made my mind up. We are going to dash back and forth across the railway line, and we are going to do it where it comes close to that old-fashioned and over-priced hotel where I once stayed for a couple of nights, listening to the trains as they disappeared into the woods and the limbo land between stations. I love trains. Perhaps someone arriving late or early at the hotel will see us, and will tut-tut, and will report us, maybe, but will end up feeling either foolish or frustrated, because we will not be caught. Last month it was Ian’s choice. He fancies himself as a scientist, and perhaps he may have been one, if things had turned out differently. We wandered around the laboratory that was inside an electrified perimeter fence with skulls and crossbones signs and spent a strange sort of night surrounded by all manner of bacteria and viruses and chemicals and radiation. I had thought it would be rather boring, but there was something oddly compelling about the equipment and the constant half-light. I was reminded of when I started at college, and ended up getting hopelessly lost (I never did have a sense of direction) and wandered into the science block though I was a languages student. Looking back I realise that what I caught glimpse of was a bog standard chemistry lab in a bog standard campus university, but it made me think of science fiction B movies. There is an element of hypocrisy about being reminded and remembering. It is not actually forbidden as one of the rules of the society, but it is disapproved of, it will “serve no purpose”. But we all do it. Mike, who took us to the forest where the wildfires were raging the month before last, said it might be better if we had all lost our memories. But I don’t think he meant it. I fancy this place was dilapidated and well past its prime even before the accident on the rusting roller coaster. The little stalls that once sold doughnuts and ice cream and candy floss and cones of chips are now blind behind their shutters, their paint flaking. It is a place that seems lost and forgotten. Which is suitable enough for those who are lost and forgotten. Except, of course, we are supposed to call ourselves The Immortals. We are the ones who have dared death, and who have escaped its clutches, and now we cannot die. I have heard a rumour that there is one way we can be released, but I don’t believe it. To be sure, some great writers and artists and composers have evoked our ilk. But they are like legends and fairytales, even to us. Especially to us. We are the dull and drab ones, who are not swathed in soaring music or winding words or glorious colours. We are the second-grade, the mundane ones, who are left to our own devices, to organise our own meetings. Our newest member, Andy, doesn’t seem to quite get it. He is barely old enough to scrape in. He asks why we seek out danger when we know there is none. He will learn. I daresay all of us asked the same question once, even when we were older. He is sitting on one of the down at hoof horses on the carousel that always did moan and creek and disappoint, and looking as if he is trying to figure things out, and I wonder if the scream will come tonight, the scream that you think will never stop but does, eventually. Or does not. It will be a few months before he is allowed to decide where we meet. The power has come back on now. The carousel is turning and we can ride the roller coaster. I have dull, futile thoughts about those young lives that were claimed and maimed. I do not pity them. They would not pity me. “Beware,” says Henrietta, quietly. We are supposed to be equals, but of course that is so much nonsense, and she is the leader, or at least we act as if she is. But we all know what is meant by the single word “beware”. It does not, of course, mean be careful, or watch your step. It means that there is at least a chance that someone who is not one of us has penetrated, unwittingly, our meeting. Two things can happen now. The first is the more usual. They can go away, or their own volition, or with some presentiment prompting them. Then they will have strange dreams, and wonder why, and avoid the place where they had trespassed, and all places resembling it, and not be able to explain it, but they will have had a lucky escape. Or they can choose to investigate further and give in to the promptings or curiosity and daring, and then they will become one of us, but never wholly one of us. They will be in a limbo within a limbo. For reasons I don’t quite know I am willing the intruder in the amusement park to feel uneasy, to realise that they have made a mistake, and to slip back through the barrier they have somehow penetrated without the skills that we have. They have not. They intend on staying. They have paused by the chipped and closed booth where cones of chips used to be sold. And I have a sudden urge to break the rules, to break one of our most strict rules, and to try to meet them. The consequences of this could be so awful that even we only speak of them obliquely. I jump down from the apex of the damaged roller coaster and land safely on the concrete beneath, ignoring the warning cries of my companions, who truly do seem to have been stirred to a sort of panic. Andy is still on the carousel, as if he hasn’t quite grasped his unasked-for powers and doesn’t want to go on the roller coaster, and makes as if to follow me, whilst unable to believe what I am doing at the same time. “Dora, where are you going?” “Stay there!” I command. He obeys. I am coming nearer and nearer, and see that the person standing by the booth is a woman. Quite an elderly woman, though still, I think, sprightly enough, despite her slightly bowed posture. She is wearing a dark green coat that seems to glow both darker and brighter green in the lights of the amusement park, and seems to be lost in thought. An emotion is swelling through me that is both terrible and wonderful. When I was at school we once went on a trip to an amusement park, and I did not enjoy it. Perhaps because I’d had a tummy bug lately anyway, I had turned queasy on the roller coaster and, as I thought, shamed myself, and I had started crying. But our class teacher, Mrs Holt, could not have been kinder. She cleaned me up as best she could, and told me she’d had something similar happen to her, and looking back I wonder if it was a kind lie, but at the time I believed her. She took me to a stall to buy a cone of chips to “put a lining on my stomach,” as she said. They tasted good and the world became a slightly better place again. She had been wearing a green coat that day. I am vaguely aware of voices calling, warning, unable to believe that I am breaking this taboo of all taboos. They seem to fade into a grey mist. Mrs Holt is smiling, and holding out her arms, and says, “Dora! What a lovely surprise!” It is a warm, human voice from a kind person whom I had almost forgotten. But she had not forgotten me. And that is what matters. I step into her arms, and there is peace.


A Ghost Story Grace lay quietly in the hospital bed. Her heart monitor showed a slowing of her heartbeat. Her husband sat beside her bed crying. Grace felt as if she were melting into the bed. She tried patting her husbands’ hand, she felt cold creeping up her body. Her legs felt like ice. She breathed through her mouth gasping for every breath. Her husband kept raising her gown to feel her legs. He could feel the cold moving up her body. Grace quietly wondered what was on the other side. She was sure that there was life on the other side, her Baptist faith had taught her that. What would it be like? A nurse came in and checked her vitals. “Nurse, how long will it take me to die?” Grace quietly asked. The nurse looked down at her and smiled, “The process always takes about two days.” Grace sighed and lay still, feeling as if the melting was quacking. She slowly drifted off to sleep. Grace woke up, the room seemed bright and she felt o.k., she sat up and pushed herself off of the hospital bed. Her husband was sitting in the corner crying and signing some paperwork. “Joseph, Joseph, I feel so much better.” She walked over to stand beside him. She looked down at the paperwork he was signing. She reached out to touch him on the shoulder. “Joseph, look, I am better.” He did not glance at her, he continued filling out the paperwork. She felt frustrated and turned around in anger. She noticed a body still lying on the hospital bed. She walked over to it and saw that it was herself. It suddenly dawned on her that she had died. She reached down and pinched herself to see if she were dreaming. She felt no pain with the pinch. She stepped back and suddenly a tunnel appeared before her. It looked black around the edges, but there was a bright spot at the end of it. She knew she had to follow it through to the end. Grace walked what seemed like miles to the end of the tunnel and stepped out on the other side. She followed a path of gold bricks through some woods and as she topped the hill, she saw the golden city on top of a high hill. The gates seemed gigantic and hewn from a single pearl. A man sat on a stool by the entrance. He got up and walked towards her. She felt embarrassed as she stood there in her hospital gown. He held out a hand towards her, “Welcome to the gates of heaven, please wait and I will open them for you.” He walked over and pulled on a golden stranded rope; He waved his hand for her to enter. She walked in and suddenly saw a group of people huddled off to the side. They turned and approached her. She blushed as she realized her nakedness standing there. The gentleman reached out his hand, “Welcome to heaven.” He said, his gaze did not fall from Grace’s face. The woman pushed her way gently towards grace, “Don’t worry about one thing, we will see to all of your needs and set you up with a house here.” She smiled broadly. Grace smiled, can I see my Grandmother and Grandfather?” A man behind the woman nodded, “You may visit your relatives after a three-day settling in period here.” He smiled at Grace. The woman looped her arm through Graces, follow us, we want to take you and show you your new home. They walked down the streets of heaven; Grace saw people in every manner of dress even from centuries past. The gentleman beside her smiled as he looked down at her, “everyone here dresses in the way they did in life. It helps everyone feel comfortable here.” Grace nodded, “I see.” The streets were crowded with people, No one seemed to pay attention to Grace’s hospital gown. They approached a beautiful Victorian home, the man who had addressed Grace and welcomed her dropped the keys into her hands. “This is to be your home here.” Grace’s hand flew over her mouth, “Really?” The group nodded and hugged Grace. “Grace, get settled into your new home and I will come around for you in about two hours’ time and we will go pick you up some clothes. Grace nodded, “that would be great!” The group waved goodbye and left Grace standing there on the front porch. She turned around and inserted the large skeleton key in the lock. The door swung open and she walked in looking at the grandeur of the home. It was beautiful! She walked up the stairs, and into the bedroom. She looked around and glanced out the window to the street below, she saw a couple with a child walking down the street below. She opened the closet and glanced into the closet, there were no clothes there. She looked at how spacious the closet was. She walked down the stairs, through the dining hall and into the back kitchen. It was spaciously laid out. The furniture was ornate and looked Victorian in design. She walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. She noticed there were no clocks on the wall so she could not decide on how to tell when to expect her company. The sun shown brightly through the window, Grace got up and pulled back a panel of the heavy velvet gold drapery. Soon a rapid knock came at the door. Grace walked over and opened it. “Hello again, I have come to take you clothes shopping. The woman pulled out a tape measure and started taking all of her measurements and writing them down on a pad of paper. Grace turned and posed as asked. “How do you like your new home Grace?” The woman asked. It is grander than the one I had when on Earth. The woman smiled, she waved for Grace to follow her. They walked out into the street and followed a winding path which was lined with shops. Grace saw people walking with bags in their hands. They finally stopped and entered one. The woman approached the proprietor. “This is our new citizen Grace. She needs a wardrobe for here.” The woman smiled, “Welcome Grace.” The woman studied Grace’s measurements and stood up rubbing her chin. “I have just the thing for you.” She walked out among the racks and pulled hangers off of the racks left and right. She handed them to the woman. She motioned for Grace to follow her. They walked back into the dressing rooms and started trying on outfits. Grace picked out her favorites that she had enjoyed on earth. “How do I pay for these,” she asked, the woman smiled and laughed, “You do not dear, shop keeping over here, is a service to others. All work over here is in service to others.” She smiled, placed the clothes back on the hanger and handed them to Grace. “Hand these clothes to the clerk and just let her scan them out and place them in a bag for you.” Grace did as she was instructed. “May I wear an outfit out?” Grace asked. “Yes of course the woman said with a big smile on her face. “Grace looked at the woman, what time is it?” “We have no time here per say, it is never dark here either.” She laughed softly and opened the door, “There is a wonderful little restaurant down the road that I think we should stop and eat a bite. Eating is not a necessity here, but new commers usually take a while to adapt to that aspect of living over here.” Grace smiled and swung the dress bags over her shoulder and followed after her friend. They followed the golden brick along to a section of town with a lot of restaurants and the woman chose one and opened the door for Grace. “What do we eat over here?” Grace asked. “Mostly fruits and vegetables.” They chose a place close to the window and sat down. They picked up the menus and perused them, Grace instantly requested the pear salad. The woman stopped and smiled sweetly, Grace, “I never told you my name.” Grace smiled, “No you have not.” She looked at the woman gently. “I’m your great, great grandmother, that you have never met in life. I am Mary Terrell. Grace placed her hand over her mouth, Great, Great Grandmother.” She looked at her intently. “Yes, and I am so happy to finally have met you.” She smiled. “I am going to be your best friend and help you settle into things here.” “Grace, I think I will take the Pear salad as well.”