“Captain! It’s not real! We have to turn back, Smith will die!” No one could hear his screams in the middle of the ocean. Peters, a pirate aboard the Soup Bowl ship, a ship, named so rightly because it’s captain made the best soup in all the land, was frantically trying to take the wheel away from his captain. Captain Rolli was an old man now, back in his day he had long brown hair and a long brown beard, beautiful pierced ears and tan skin, All the women wanted him, all the pirates wanted to be him. Looking at him now, you would think he was out of his mind. Captain Rolli turned to Peters and he shouted, with spit coming out of the sides of his mouth “I am the captain of this ship, you will not touch my wheel, I know it is there and no-one will stop me! Take your hands off of me or I will lock you in the cells! Believe me that!” Peters stopped and sighed deeply before wiping his brow “You stupid old fool!” He says. “You used to be a great man! Now look at you! You’re going to put your men in danger for something that’s not real!” He added furiously as the other men crouched in the back not wanting to be reprimanded for agreeing with him. Peters nodded to his fellow pirates as two of the biggest and strongest men take Rolli by the arms and pull him down to the lower deck, throwing him in a cell and locking the doors behind him. “It’s for your own good!” Shouted Peters as he takes control of the wheel. Hanji and Mario, the two strong men from earlier walk back up to Peters, awaiting their next orders, All they can hear is their Mad Captain screaming from beneath them. “We’re going home!” Cheered Peters and he steered to the Left, Towards Australia, Where a lot of these men once called home. The rest of the crew cheered before continuing to drink, yell at each other and whatever else they were doing. They continued on for three days and three nights, Captain Rolli had been sedated by the crew as best they could with whiskey, Marijuana and whatever else they had spare. He was crying to himself like he had been the whole time, about losing his precious treasure and how he was going to be the one to find it. “The Island Treasure...It was going to be mine” He cried to himself. “You don’t even know where it is you fool...All you had was an old map, torn up map, There’s not even a name for this Island” Peters spoke to himself while looking at this old map, He was now laying in his narrow bed trying to make any sense of any of this, The map was almost a dark brown colour with the amount of dirt and alcohol spills on it. The top of the map said ‘Island Island’ There was a detailed route to 4 ends of the Island where treasure was supposedly buried. “What a piece of garbage” He told Himself as he crunched up the map and tossed it in the garbage can. He awoke at 3 A.M on the dot as the ship swerving pushed him out of bed, he ran upstairs to the top deck and climbed his way to the Wheel. They found themselves in the middle of the worst storm they had ever seen, there was water everywhere, parts of their ship had started to chip away from hitting so many rocks, Peters pulled out his telescope and frantically searched for somewhere to dock, He saw a blurry outline of what looked like an entrance. “Someone wake up the old fool before he drowns down there!” He demanded; amongst the panic the crew had forgotten he was still locked down there. As the crew hurries to free their captain from his cell, Peters swerves the ship to the right to avoid a collision with a massive rock up ahead but the boat becomes unsteady and end up turning over, Peters gets hit with something, It’s unclear what by because of the flooding water. He awakes to find Himself being pulled onto some sand by Rolli. After rolling onto his hands and knees and having a coughing fit he stands up and hugs Rolli tightly. “You’re an old fool but I’m so glad you’re alive...” He whispered to him while breathing unsteadily, He falls back onto his knees. “An old fool aye?” Says Rolli with a big grin on his face, showing his missing front tooth. “Does that look like the sign of a fool to you?” He asked, pulling peters drowsy head to look at the sign to the right of them that read ‘Island Island’. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” He says to himself before quickly standing to the realisation that he could actually have been right. “S-s-so You mean we might actually find the treasure?” He asked darting his gaze back to the Captain. “Oh Captain! We’re gonna be rich!” Exclaimed Peters. “Yes we are” Said Rolly still grinning to himself as he hugged peters again before quickly letting going, peters face started to frown as he realised. “By that Of course I mean, I’m going to be rich” He says as he leans in to peters ear as his grin disappears “I mean have been high off my tits but I’ll never forget you putting me in the brig” He whispers. Peters laughed “Y-You’re joking right?” He asked, looking back at his arms which had been put into handcuffs. “Do I look like I’m joking?” He asked sarcastically as he smiled down at him, his face looked evil. “Now...” He paused for a second “Where is my map?” He demanded. Peters started to look flustered as he looked towards the ship “I...I-I Don’t know” He cried. “Well then” Says Rolli “It’s a good thing I have that map ingrained in my mind” He claimed pointing to his head. “Seeyou around Bucko” He finished as he walked away. “You can’t leave me here! I know boats, I don’t know how to survive on a desert Island! He Screamed, Begging. “Should have thought about that before pal” He laughed as he continued to run away. The crew followed knowing he may be an old fool, but he knew how to survive an Island better than the young Mister Peters, Only one of the crew remained behind with peters, Sumori, He was only just 18, A bit simple to be honest but he was a good lad. He did everything Peters told him. He saved all he could from the ship, at Peters command. Not much could be salvaged, just some old army rations. Captain Rolli and his crew had managed to walk 6 Miles before it started to get dark, They all helped each other make beds and forage for food. By midnight then all had a cramped space to sleep, three oysters and a bundle of seaweed. As the majority of the crew stared on in disgust, Captain Rolli cracked them open and ate them without a second thought. Eventually the crew followed in suit before going to sleep. The captain fell asleep last but he gets to sleep eventually. He wakes to find Smith has unfortunately passed away, He covers him with a thin piece of old bark and closes his eyes for him, Visibly upset he looks around to find two other men had gone missing. Boutelli and Eriks. He clicked his tongue at the thought that his comrades have probably betrayed him. Nevertheless He grabs a sleeping Mr.Trey by the arm and wakes him up. “We Have to go! Or they’ll steal the treasure!” He says panicking. He pulls Trey up and looks for clues to their whereabouts, there is a trail leading to their right and to the left. At This he smiles the way a half crazy, drunk, exhausted old man would as he collects his things. “Idiots have gone the wrong way” He claims to himself. “We have to get movin’ son” He half laughs as he slightly skips in the direction, he believes true. It only Takes them ten hours but they come to a sudden stop. “Sir?” Asks Trey as he struggles to follow behind. Rolli takes 10 steps forwards, seeing something in the distance. “Here...It’s Here! We found it!” He yells as he jumps around for joy. “But sir...They’re Dead” Trey cries at the sight of Boutelli and Eriks lying dead on the floor next to a huge burnt out hole in the ground. Captain Rolli Laughed “That’s what you get for betraying your Captain! I could have told them the treasure was boobie trapped!” He claimed loudly. “Sir...Are you sure you’re okay?” Trey asks. “Oh...You think I’m crazy too do ya?!” He screams getting his face very close to Trey’s. “N-No sir, I believe you, f-forget i said anything” Says Trey. “I reckon ye shall have to prove ye loyalty” Says Rolli. “Dig in this ‘ere hole and retrieve our treasure” Rolli added demandingly. “Y-yes sir” says Trey defeatidly. After digging with his bare hands for 5 hours, he finally pulls a box over to the Captain who had now fallen asleep. ‘He barely looks alive’ Trey thought to himself before gently waking him up. Captain rolly grunts as he awakes but wake quickly he does after he sees what has been laid out in front of him. There’s that evil grin again “Open it” He says softly but demandingly. “Yes sir” He replies, exhausted as he uses a rock to break open the lock, he slowly starts to open the box. Not two seconds later Mr.Trey is on the floor with spikes through his head. Captain Rolli knew there was a second boobie trap, keeps the treasure all to himself. Leaving his dead crew behind him, the crazy man drags the box back to shore, this takes him days but Rolli knows how to survive on a desert Island. He knew since the beginning, He would trick everyone and keep all the treasure for himself. He arrives to shore, colapsing into the sand he frantically looks around, clutching the box to his chest making sure no-one was around to steal his treasure from him like he had done to them. He can’t take much more, He passes out. He awakes, only able to open one eye with the sun shining so brightly into his face he slowly sits up. He hears the sound of an electric boat, He looks back to see Peters, He may look half dead but he’s alive, Rolli’s face collapses as the boat start to leave without him. “Nooooooo!!!” He screams, throwing sand everywhere as he realises he is alone and with no treasure. Peters, standing on the back of the boat, holding up the box and smirking as he road further from shore “Goodbye Captain Rolli...” He whispered to himself relieved, He sat down and took a deep breath, closing his eyes, preparing himself to open the box. He opens the box to find...Another box. Before he gets angry, takes another breath and presses the small green button on the left hand corner. ‘This is Captain Rolli of the Soup Ship Vessel, Please give the secret code to unlock’ He hears the voice activated message, stands up and throws the box as far as he can into the sea. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck” He screams, loud enough for Rolli to hear as the crazy captain starts laughing hysterically.


“Luke! Wait. Where are you going?” She cried. Luke didn’t wait. He kept running. She could see a car some metres away. He boarded the car and it drove off. “Oh! Luke. Where have you gone? Please don’t leave me. We need you. I love you.” She knelt on the floor crying. She opened her tear filled eyes. It was early hours of the morning. She turned. Luke was fast asleep. She pulled herself up to the bathroom. As she washed her face, she wondered what the dream meant. It had been recurrent for the past two weeks. It had come three times the previous week. She had told Luke about the dream. He just dismissed it. ****** “Luke, I’m worried. This is the third time I'm having this dream. Everything is the same. No changes. Everything is exactly the same.” “Come on Sheila. How can you believe in a mere dream? It’s like believing in a fiction.” “But, Luke sometimes dreams come true. Fiction can become reality.” “What am I to infer from what you’re saying? Do you mean I would leave you and Cody?” “No. Come on don't give me that sad look. I’m just worried. It’s recurrent.” “You don't have to. It’s when you worry about something too much, reality steps in. Your fears become real.” “Ok. But... Honey, is there something you need to tell me? I'm all ears. I promise I will listen.” “Mmmm. No. Not all. Everything is fine. Work is fine. If there is, I'll sure let you know.” “Ok dear. Please just be careful.” “I'll sure do. I love you.” “Love you too, honey.” They embraced each other. Luke set off for work while she got Cody prepared for school. ******* She slid back into bed. Luke turned and placed his hand around her. This is the third time she has had the same dream in that week but this time the car was closer. She could see the silhouette of the driver. It matched that of a female. She had decided not to confront him on the matter anymore. I know something is wrong. I know Luke has something up his sleeves. But, is he living me for someone else? I'll definitely find out. Oh! God please help me. These were the thoughts running through her mind. The next morning she made breakfast for him. As he sat to eat, she also sat vis-à-vis him. “Why the stare?” “Nothing.” “Ok.” “Luke, do you remember the first time we met?” “Yeah! I do. You almost fell while running down the stairs to catch the bus. I held you and you fell into my arms.” “No,” she laughed. “That wasn’t the first. That was the second.” “Ok. When was the first?” “The first was inside the art exhibition hall. I stood speechless looking at a painting. You came and stood beside me. You asked if I like it and I said I deeply do. You said it looked dreamy and asked what it was all about. I told you it had two meanings. One, it talked about, ‘the heart cry of one for a fallen tomorrow' and two, ‘the decline in the beauty of nature'.” “Yeah! I can still remember vividly. I got you that painting as a birthday gift.” “Yeah! That’s the one hanging at the corridor,” she laughed. “Hmmm. It’s good to go down memory lane a times. You’ve had a good laugh this morning.” “Oh! That’s true.” “Hey, I'm late for work. We’ll talk more when I come back.” “Ok! Don’t stay late.” “I’ll try.” He stood up and gave her a kiss on her forehead and left while she got Cody prepared for school. It was break time at work. Luke’s phone rang. It was Olivia. Doesn't she have any other thing to do at this time? Must she always call. “Hello.” “Hello! Honey. How are you?” “I'm fine.” “Are you sure you are? You sound cold.” “Olivia, I was just in the middle of something important when you called.” “So I’m not important?” “No... you are. I’m just kind of busy.” “But, I thought you should be on break?” “Yeah. You’re correct but today I have a spill over. Just need some few minutes to finish up.” “Ok. No problem.” “Thank you.” “Are you coming for dinner tonight?” “No. I... don’t... think so.” “But why? You promised. I have got everything ready. I'm preparing your favourite meal.” “Oh! I’m so sorry. We’ll reschedule another day.” “When? What other day?” “Tomorrow. Next. Don't worry, I’ll make it up to you.” “But, why can’t you make it tonight?” “Work has been hectic. I have a backlog on ground. Don’t worry, we'll sure have a good time together.” “Ok honey. Promise me.” “Yeah. I promise.” “Love you.” “I love you too.” He heaved a sigh when the call ended and shook his head. For some days, he didn’t pick her calls. He also avoided taking the route around her office. He thinks she might keep late to watch him pass. Luke had gone to work. Unknowing to him that last night he was trailed by Olivia. She was in her car waiting for Sheila to take Cody to school. She followed them behind. She came back to Cody’s school later. He was at the playing field. She took at the gate looking at him. Cody turned and he saw a woman staring at him. She waved to him and he waved back at her. He told his teacher that there was a woman staring at him and he didn’t know her. His teacher alerted the security guards. She told them she was having a view of the surrounding and that she was looking for a new school for her son. She was asked to go in and make enquires which she did. ******* “Mum, do you know what happened in school today?” “Oh! Cody, how do you expect your mum to know if you don’t tell her. Your mum is not telepathic.” “Ok...” “She's not Jean Grey,” they said it together and laughed. “Ok, Cody love, tell me what happened.” “Mum, when I was on the playing field. I saw a woman staring at me. She waved to me with a smile and I waved back at her. I told my teacher and she alerted the security guards.” “Then what happened?” “I saw them talking to her and later she went into the school.” “Did you see her again?” “The next time I saw her, she was entering her car. She then drove off.” “Oh! Cody.” Luke was back from work. He was having his shower when his phone beeped. It was a message from Olivia. The phone was beside Sheila. She glanced to read the message. Don't think I don’t know where you live. Don’t think I don’t know your wife and son. I was at his school today. He’s a cute boy. Please... come back home. “Darling.” “Yeah! Can we have dinner now?” “Darling. Who is Olivia? “She... she’s a colleague. How did you know about her?” “Please, don’t ask any further. A colleague that went to our son’s school.” “How did you know?” “Cody came from school today..., she breathed heavily.” “Please calm down and talk to me.” He moved close and held her. She took off his hand. “Cody came from school today. He said he saw a woman staring at him. He said she smiled and waved at him.” “Oh! My God. Where is he? Where is my son?” “He’s upstairs sleeping. While you were bathing, your phone beeped. It was right beside me. I glanced and I saw this message.” She handed over the phone to him. He read It, “What!,” he shouted. “So all this while you've been having an affair. I have been having the same episode of dreams. I told you about it and you dismissed it. You said they were all fiction. I even told you to confide in me that I was all ears. All you said was that there was nothing to tell.” “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. We were friends before I married you. She was out of town for a long time. Then out of the blues, she came back and we got intimate.” “It seems she’s obsessed with you. I’m no longer safe with you neither is Cody.” “No you are. I love you. I love Cody. You’re my wife. He’s my son. You two make my world complete. I’ll be lost without you and Cody.” “But... you've opened a can of worms.” “Don't worry I’ll close it back. I promise.” “Ok.” Luke scheduled a meeting with Olivia. He warned her to stay clear his life and that of his family. She didn’t heed. She kept calling and sending messages even at late night hours. Luke reported to the police. She was given a restraint order. It didn’t slow her down. She devised another means. She knew he liked listening to 10pm news and she also knew the TV station she worked with was his favourite so she lobbied to always read the news. Since she was good at the game, she was granted the offer. They had brought it long before to her doorsteps but she refused so they were glad she finally took the offer. Luke was frustrated. Sheila was fed up with the whole situation. He had come back from work one day. He noticed Sheila wasn’t lying in the couch reading and waiting for him as she usually does. He called her name but there was no response. Where is she? Is she in the bathroom? He thought. When he entered the bedroom. He saw a note lying on the bed. He picked it up and read it. Twelve Truths About You 1) You’ve been a wonderful husband. 2) You’ve been so caring. 3) You’ve showed unusual empathy. 4) You dote on me lavishly. 5) You’ve been so supportive of my dreams. 6) You listen to me when I need someone to. 7) You don’t have a big ego. 8) You’ve been a loving father to our son. 9) You’ve always given me a shoulder to lean on. 10) You always had wonderful places in mind for us to go on vacation. 11) Your ideas have been out of the box. 12) You’re a high flyer. Your ambitions are as high as the mountain. It’s a huge delight. Thank you for been there for me. Thank you for been there for Cody. We love you. I'll miss you. I know he will too. By the time you’re reading this. We’ll be off in the air. If you want to see me, you know where to find me. Love, Sheila. Luke didn’t wait to change. He dropped his bag, entered his car and sped to the airport. He ran to the counter and asked if any plane had taken off. He was told there had been a bit delay in departure but the plane was about taking off. He thanked the receptionist but before he was allowed access through, the plane had taken off. He stood in the rain, tears streamed down his face.


Well, since you asked me how I got that strange, terrifying, statue outside my house. I believe I can answer that question. It began, eight years ago, when I took up residence in a large cottage, that lay just outside the woods, and was a good five minute walk from the town. When I moved in, I decided to try and set up a strawberry patch in the woods, for I wanted to grow my own fruit, instead of paying far too much for store bought rubbish. So, I began digging and preparing land for the upcoming spring, when I caught sight of something in the distance. It looked like a large hairless man, crouched on all fours like a wolf, or perhaps a dog. It looked to be about a mile from my home, and it was staring at me. "Begone strange creature" I yelled at the beast "Don't you know this land is private property" I said, pointing at the sign that stated that these parts of the woods were my private property. The creature was unmoving. "Come on now" I said, picking up my rake and pointing it at the creature that was quite far away "Go away" After twenty more minutes of trying to coerce the monster off my land, I sighed, put down my rake, and returned to my home. As I ate my dinner, I had the sudden urge to look out of the window. I opened the blinds and checked for the creature. There it was, same position, same place, same glaring expression. Unnerved, I retired to my bedroom where I had a happy time browsing the strange website known as Reddit. When I awoke in the morning, I decided to inspect the creature. I walked through the trees, ignoring the strange notes, pages, and various carvings of eyes, monsters, and a tall man in a suit, I caught sight of it. I picked up a stick and began poking the still creature. It screeched but still did not move. I checked behind it and saw that it had appeared to have moved a quarter of a mile in the night. I opened it's jaw and checked it's teeth, they were covered in strawberry juice, as well as it's claws. It's skin was leathery and it's eyes were fierce and terrifying. I decided it was a statue being used as a prank, and took out a pin, a pen, and a piece of paper, and scribbled a strongly worded not asking the perpetrators to remove the statue, and then pinned it to the back of the creature. I saw the eyes grow wide and water begin to well up in it's sight spheres. I tutted at the animatronic as I now presumed, and returned to work on my strawberry patch. However, after an accident with a time warp, I instead woke up two days later and decided, out of interest, I opened the window. The statue was now right outside the strawberry patch, and about fifty metres from my house. I strutted up to the creature, noting the note still sticking out of it's skin, and the monster was no longer still. "Well" I told it "If you want to have strawberries, your going to have to work to get them" I handed it a rake, and pointed at the leaves around my allotment "Now rake and harvest my strawberries!" I yelled, and began to walk away. When I looked outside during lunch, I saw the raking creature raking and harvesting. "Good Raking Creature" I called "Bring in some strawberries!" The raking creature raised it's head, put down the rake, and began picking the strawberries and putting them into a basket, before bounding to my house. The door slammed open and it joined me at the table. It slammed down the basket, and began devouring the strawberries. "You idiot!" I yelled "You've eaten them all! Now there's no seeds left and no strawberries!" The creature looked me in the eyes. They were red like the strawberry juice that was now on my table. It stared, before it growled. It stepped outside and went back into the woods. I was eating my dinner but a few hours later when suddenly the raking creature slammed against the window. I let out a scream and leapt to the front door and into my car. As I drove, the woods were to the right of me, and I could see something moving among the trees. I drove for ten minutes before I reached my destination. I had passed this shop many times before, but now I would finally enter. The shop was known as Dawes' Witchcraft Emporium, and it looked as if it were an antiques shop filled with wizards tools. I threw myself out of the car and into the shop. I was met by a child wearing a pair of spectacles, a school uniform, and robes that were far too long with stars on. He stared at me, I stared back. "Do you own this shop child?" I asked the child "No, I'm just looking after it while everyone else is at sainsburys" he replied "The names Harry" "Do you have anything that could get rid of a raking creature?" I asked him "Of course we do, shall I get you a medium sized wand with a twelve M crystal" "Yes, that should do just fine" "How about a cauldron?" "What?" "A cauldron, mix up some potions, enchantments, other things" "I'll take them!" I yelled The boy handed me a large heavy box that showed a cauldron and a load of potions, that read ***'Cauldron Starter Set'***, and was very heavy. He also handed me a beautiful wand with a large glowing purple crystal on the end. He scanned the items. "That will be $369.98" He told me. I handed him my credit card and payed for the items before returning to my car. I placed the cauldron in the back with the large oddly familiar statue in the back. I sat in the driver’s seat, and began the drive back home. As I looked in the rear-view mirror, I realised the Raking Creature was in my cars back seat. I screamed and pulled over and ran into the woods clutching the wand. I ran past various notes, scrawlings, and other various pages, until I eventually ran headfirst into a tall man in a suit with no face. “Oh, hello there” I said as my vision turned to static and I blacked out. When I awoke, it was night time. My head hurt, and there was a raking creature slobbering over me. “I told you!” I yelled “You ate all the strawberries!” I scrabbled for the wand the child in the store had given me and found it. I lifted it with both hands. “Anti-Raking-Creature-Blast!” I yelled at it. Nothing happened. As I ran through the undergrowth, the raking creature on my heels, I looked over the wand and saw a sticker on one part. ***‘Requires registered spells contained within the magical spell cloud book. Not Included’*** ‘Damn’ I thought. And then I saw it, in the distance, the shop! I ran across the road, nearly getting both me and the creature run over by a car. I banged on the windows and opened the door. The creature was prevented from entering within a radius of five metres of the shop. The boy was waiting for me behind the till. “I suppose you will be wanting the spell cloud book” “What does the cloud part mean?” “It updates whenever someone makes a new spell. A new page magically appears on every copy” “Oh, well I’ll take it!” “That’ll be $79.99” I paid the child, and confronted the creature outside the store. I opened the 2793 page book to the table of contents, and tried to find a total obliteration spell. There wasn’t one. Then I saw it, magical force field, protects you and an area of your choice from any form of attack. I tapped on the title and the book turned to the page I wanted. I cast it. The creature leapt at me the moment I left the vicinity of the store. It bounced off as if I was a living bouncy castle. I began running until I finally got to my house and cast it again. The creature stood on the outside, ever watching, ever growling. Many people tried to mug and stab me, calling me a freak or a demon. And outside my house, the monster still growled. I grew annoyed of this and so I used a spell to turn it into a statue and left it outside my house as a warning. Next to it I put a sign.


"Hello, my name is Caydee and I am sick." The words roll off of my tongue, echoing around the still room. "Hello Caydee." What a perfect welcoming at life after death. Yes it is an actual title. Can you believe it? But I like to refer to it as coping with deaths anonymous, because that is all we are doing. Finding a legal and appropriate way to emotionally handle the ending of our lives. Confusing huh? I'll start from the beginning. 10 years ago, there was a deadly virus that killed approximately 15,000 Americans and foreigners. A facility known as "The Pradesrix" began a study on what was thought to be a breakthrough in science. A new world order into health. The Scientists were working a serum that was supposed to cure every disease that ever surfaced. The experiments started off small, using test subjects such as rats, mice, small vernon and the works. After months of injecting viruses, The Pradesrix wanted to start the work on humans. Of course the government did not allow such things unless there was proof of success. The corporation decided that it would be best to use anonymous subjects. Also known as the homeless and the ones beyond saving. Results went well, the paperwork and documented results were sent to the government. Once approved, an advertisement was posted in the papers. The paper said, "New jobs! Ages 18+ . Must be healthy and in good shape. $15 a day per test. Seeking help now!" With an advertisement like that, paying as much as fifteen dollars a day, there was no questioning the amount of citizens that signed up for it. Everything was going well, so we thought. October 18, 2006. A day that marked history, forever. No one really knows what happened that day. Some say that a test subject got loose, others say that the scientists damaged the genome with the DNA of an animal. There was no recorded proof, according to the cops. Anyway, I remember that day like it was yesterday. A fire erupted from the first floor of the laboratory, spreading quickly, escalating to several floors of the building. It was all over the news. Anyone could hear the screams of the people inside the building. Some jumped to their deaths and others were burned alive. Blood curdling, agonizing sounds filled the air. It was absolutely terrifying. Not long after, the fire department and reporters showed up, bringing the events to live TV. After 6 long hours, the fire died down. But there was a strange hue in the air. There were no survivors reported. An hour passed. Firefighters and news crews stood idly, taking in the scene when suddenly, a shadow moved in the background. Quick paced footsteps echoed off the charred cement and shattered glass spread all over the floor. "Quick, get a close up,” the crewmember shouted. The news crews ran up to the scene. The crewmember shouts, "I don't see anything. Just wait! Jill come on let's go." Another shadow passed, louder crunching sounds. The cameras turned, focusing on something sitting in a corner. How can this be? There were no survivors. It sat there, hunched in the corner with its back faced to the camera. Shaking. There was black gunk and blood spilling beneath this thing. It had something in its hand. Low growls filled the silence. Was it...eating? The news reporter reached her hand out slowly, touching its back. It was cold, almost frozen. "What the hell?" the reporter said. Suddenly, the thing turned on her. Leaping and pushing her back against the wall. Pacing, it climbed on top of her, staring at her. It had a veiny pale face, eyes dark black, soulless. Arms stretched from its sockets and feet extended. "Sir, sir are you alright? I can get you help. Can you hear me? I'll just go and ca-" The reporter was cut off, as the creature atop her took a deep, bite from her neck. Pulling back, it began to chew on the flesh that was hers. Her face lay agape, unable to scream. Blood began to see from the gash that was her neck. Two more figures appeared from the darkness. Charging. "Oh God, what have we done!" the cameraman shouted in terror. Darkness filled the screen...


Bright, hot sunlight smacked us right in the face, as we jogged up the stairs, emerging from the tepid subway. Breathing heavily from the reluctant exercise, I turned to look at Dehv next to me. She was fumbling to put her sunglasses on, the dazzle outside had caught her by surprise. “God it’s hot out today!” she said loudly. We walked into the street, the noise of the thick traffic and crowd felt especially uncomfortable in this summer heat. “I know,” I replied thoughtfully. “I should’ve worn more sunscreen.” “Are you kidding me!” Dehv exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “You practically took a bath in it. You’re like 90% sunscreen, 10% Yura right now!” I smirked and she smirked back for a split second, then turned her face away abruptly. The streets were busier than usual, setting the tone for the rest of the season. Tourists mixed alongside natives, taking selfies at coffee shops, crowding around street performers, and competing for the attention of cab drivers. “I can’t wait to go on holiday,” Dehv said. “Look at this madness! The sooner we leave for the UK, the better.” I glanced sideways at my girlfriend, nodding in acknowledgment. But not agreement. Dehv grabbed my arm suddenly, pulling me out of the stream of people and onto the edge of the sidewalk. It was the most we’d touched in months. Sweat formed around the edges of my temple, wetting my hair. “Let’s go through the park,” she said, pointing across the road at the stone walls. “It’ll be much cooler, yeah?” “Good idea,” I replied nodding. We didn’t bother walking to the pedestrian crossing a few meters away, it was way too packed. Instead, we looked left and right, took a deep breath, and sprinted across. Cars honked loudly, motorists yelled, and pedestrians gawked uninterestedly as we ran through, shouting apologies and profanities. “Sorry!” “Excuse us!” “Fuck you too!” “Go to hell asshole!” We landed on the other side of the street, huffing, and puffing. Heart pounding, sweat dripping under my t-shirt, I smiled. I looked around at Dehv but she’d already started walking towards the park gates. My lips faltered downwards as I jogged to catch up to her. It was much, much cooler in the park. The trees were providing a welcome respite from the strong glow of the sun. A swarm of people was starting to develop here too. I turned to mention it to Dehv, but she had taken out her phone to scroll through emails. I turned away and we walked in silence for a while. The shade cooled my damp face, I wiped some drops from my brow. By instinct, we both turned right at an intersection in the path, a long stretch of paved road that led to the east exit. We’d walked this way plenty of times on our way to and from dates, hangouts, and parties. We laughed our heads off, drunk and high and sober, but we weren’t laughing now. We walked past a group of men playing chess and my head automatically looked to the right, searching for the ever-present hot dog stand. I smelled it before I saw it, the heat was holding the scent of grilled meat hostage in the air around us. “I’m gonna go get a hot dog, do you want one?” I asked Dehv, turning to her. “Ew, no thanks,” she replied, grimacing. “It’s like 9am Yu, you’re really gonna eat a hot dog?” “It’s not for me,” I responded placidly. “It’s for Park Steve.” “Who?” Dehv asked quizzically, peeling her eyes away from her phone at last, and turning to me with some effort. “Park Steve, you know,” I repeated frowning. “He lives here in the park?” Dehv blinked back at me, silently confused. I stopped walking and exhaled irritably into the tepid air. “Park Steve, Dehv. I’ve told you about him a hundred times, I always stop by the hot dog stand and get him one...just in case he’s around?” Dehv inhaled slowly, she raised her eyebrows and her mouth opened into an ‘Oh’ as comprehension dawned on her. “You’ve - you’ve even met him Dehv. I mean there was that one time, we were walking back home from work-” “I remember, I remember geez,” she said waving her hands as if to dispel the memory. I sighed and stopped walking. Dehv overtook me and paused. She turned to look back at me, puzzled. “What?” she asked spreading her arms and tilting her head. I sighed, looking down, shifting my weight around. “I’m just - I’m going to get a hot dog and look for Park Steve. You go on ahead, I’ll meet you at work.” Dehv frowned. “What are you talking about?” she glanced at her phone. “It’s already 9:15 Yura, we’re gonna be late for work!” “It’s fine, just go on without me,” I insisted, looking up at her, at last. A warm breeze blew around us, shifting the leaves up in the trees above our heads. The sun made a momentary appearance, flashing across Dehv’s beautiful face. I squinted at its brilliance. She was staring at me, disbelief, confusion, annoyance, and exasperation passed across her eyes, her nose, her mouth. I read her face like a book I’d loved my whole life. She shrugged her shoulders at length. “Okay, I’ll meet you at work, I guess.” She hesitated. “But don’t be late, I’m not making excuses for you!” I nodded. She paused for a split second, then turned and walked away, increasing her pace as she did. I stood still for a second, enjoying the brief release. Then I turned to jog over to the hot dog vendor. Ordering the usual, I grabbed it from the man’s hands hurriedly, my hands growing warm and uncomfortable from the heat of the meat. I handed over the cash and rushed out of the queue, stepping back onto the path. Glancing around the park, I tried to scan for Steve. It was so crowded today; the weather was lovely, begging to be enjoyed. Steve wasn’t welcome to join in though, I knew that. He was probably laying low somewhere. I walked seemingly aimlessly until I saw a small stream and a stone bridge on my left. My feet moved automatically again; I knew this place. The bridge was crowded with people, taking pictures and videos of what seemed to be a marriage proposal. I rolled my eyes and swerved to the edge, deviating from the bridge altogether, heading for the low, grassy embankment instead. I slipped on the green a little as I trudged down to take a peek under the bridge. “Steve?” I called into the low concave. “You there?” He poked his head out promptly, face covered in dirt, eyes raised in curiosity. He grinned when he saw me. “Oh! It’s only you Miss Y!” he said pleasantly. He stepped out cautiously, glancing up. Some people looked down at the sound of his voice, then quickly averted their eyes. He did the same and looked back at me, still smiling. “I thought you might need a hot dog,” I said walking to him slowly, the prize outstretched. “Mighty kind of you ma'am, I’m grateful to ya,” he replied, reaching out to take it. The grin widened, revealing mismatched and stained teeth. He opened the silver foil noisily and shoved the bun into his mouth without delay. I looked away, up at the bridge where the crowd was slowly dispersing. “Some weather we’re having huh?” “No kiddin’” Steve replied through mouthfuls, licking the relish off his fingers. I reached back to the side pocket of my backpack and pulled out my flask, holding it up. “You want some coffee?” He glanced at the canister and shook his head. “No thank you Miss Y, I got my own drink,” he replied, chomping. He reached into his pocket to reveal a square glass bottle of liquor. I sighed and nodded, putting the flask back into the side pocket. “We’re in a drought, you know,” Steve said, polishing off the last of the hot dog. He crumpled up the foil and put it into his pocket. “Hmm,” I responded, not really listening. “No rain for almost 5 months now, you know,” Steve said, pulling out the glass bottle and opening it. He took a long swig, gargled the liquid in his mouth, then swallowed loudly. We stood apart in pleasant silence for a few minutes. A breeze blew overhead, the stench of the river blew back at us. I scrunched my nose. “It’s gonna rain tonight,” Steve said suddenly. “What’s that?” I asked, snapping out of my reverie, turning to him. “I said, it’s gonna rain tonight,” he repeated raising the bottle and waving it around. The clear liquid swished around inside, droplets escaping from the top. I looked up at the clear, blue sky. “The weathermen say different,” I said looking back at him and pointing up. Steve laughed unsteadily. “Weatherman don’t know what he’s talkin’ about, they don’t know shit!” I shrugged. “It’s gonna rain tonight Miss Y. I can feel it. Gonna be a big storm too, thunder and lightning. You best prepare for it, too,” he said with sudden seriousness, pointing a muddy finger at me. “I’ve got an umbrella,” I replied casually, blinking and looking over the dirty stream. The water was still. “Good, good,” he responded, still looking at me. “Crazy things happen in the heat. People get aggro you know, shit boils up.” “Uh huh,” I replied, nodding without understanding. “All that tension, all that heat ain’t got nowhere to go,” Steve said, replacing the lid back onto his bottle, screwing it closed. He shoved the glass back into his pocket. “Then, when the rain comes,” he paused. I looked at him. He raised both arms, spreading his fingers wide. “Pppoooof!” he exclaimed loudly. I blinked in surprise. People on the bridge looked down curiously, pointing and laughing. I glanced up at them uncomfortably and glanced back at Steve, taking a step back unevenly. “You better prepare for the rain young lady,” Steve repeated with a strange look on his face. “I got a feelin’ that it’s not gonna be easy, you gotta a whole lotta heat in you.” I took another step back, and crossed my right arm to my left, rubbing my shoulder awkwardly. Steve’s face was so serious that I let out an uncomfortable, involuntary laugh. He stared back at me, without blinking. Sweat formed on my temples again, despite the shade I was in. My palms were getting slippery, I released my shoulders and rubbed my hands together absentmindedly, shrugging. “It was good to see you, Steve,” I said, at last, raising a hand awkwardly in farewell. He was still staring silently, as though waiting for me to burst into flames. Then he blinked rapidly, smiling and nodding. “Thank you for the hot dog Miss Y. You take care now!” he said, waving and grinning widely. “You’re welcome!” I said backing up the hill awkwardly. “See ya!” I called, turning and jogging away. People turned their heads curiously as I clambered up the embankment and onto the bridge. Without changing my pace, I began to sprint. *** “Yu-Yu!” Sara, my co-worker said cloyingly from behind me. “Let’s get lunch?” “Too busy right now,” I replied, without turning around. “Aww! But you’ve been working all morning, what’s so important anyway?” she wheeled her chair backward as I quickly pulled up a new window on my screen. Inhaling, I looked at her as she stared. “Hmm? Budget reports? Boo!” she said, sticking her tongue out and wheeling back to her desk. “Ravi! Let’s get lunch,” she called out to someone else across the room. I exhaled in relief. Glancing back to make sure the coast was clear, I switched back onto the window I was on. Logging in, I clicked until I found my flight details. I bit my lip and stared at the screen, the cursor hovering over the ‘Cancel Booking’ button. “Whatcha doin’?” a voice close to my ear asked suddenly. I jumped in my seat and let out a shriek. People around me looked up for a moment, then went back to work. “Oh my God Dehv, you scared me!” I said in a low voice. I minimised my screen irritably and looked at her. She smirked. “You busy?” she asked without apology. I sighed. “A little, I guess. What’s up?” Dehv pulled out her phone and leaned on the side of my desk. She wasn’t looking at me anymore. “Just wondering if you’ve eaten already. I was gonna order something from the vegan place.” She tapped her screen and scrolled. I looked at her in silence. “They have a new smoothie - berry and kale, want to try it?” Dehv asked. I stared at her, her long hair tucked behind her ear, falling casually around her face and down the side of her shoulders. She was wearing her mustard full-sleeve blouse today, I thought. She wore that when she was anxious. I glanced down at my own outfit. I was wearing a plain old pale pink T-shirt. I only wore this when I was anxious. “Dehv,” I said suddenly. “Mmm?” she replied, not looking up. “Did you...did you know that we’re in a drought?” I asked, staring at her. “Hmm...? Drought?” she asked, absentmindedly. “Yeah, a drought. For like the past 5 months,” I said, moving my hands away from my laptop, covering the keys in salty sweat. “Let’s go to lunch Dehv,” I said suddenly, standing up. “What?” Dehv said, snapping to attention. She pulled herself off my desk. “You want to go out? But I thought you were busy?” I grabbed my phone off my desk and bent to retrieve my backpack off the floor. “I’m not too busy for you,” I replied quietly. I straightened, looked at her and smiled. She looked at me quizzically, then shrugged and nodded, smiling. “Okay, let’s go.” She turned to walk ahead of me, as I pushed my chair in. A lump was forming in the back of my throat. *** “My dad asked if he could pick us up from the airport,” Dehv said casually, she poked at a cherry tomato and put it into her mouth. “I told him it’d be fine.” I nodded. “What’s wrong with your food, don’t you like it?” Dehv asked, pointing to my full bowl of salad with her fork. I glanced down at the untouched forest of greens and the clean cutlery on the table. “Oh..uh..no it’s fine,” I said, picking up a fork. The silver slipped between my sweaty fingers. I put the fork into the bowl, moving the food around listlessly. “Mmm, anyway,” Dehv continued. “My mom said it’s fine if you stay with us.” Dehv took a big bite of her salad. Nodding, I put my fork back down. I grabbed the glass of iced water next to the bowl and started chugging. Drops of cool fell down the sides of my mouth. I wiped them away with my warm palms. “Are you okay?” Dehv said staring at me. I looked at her. We were making eye contact - for the first time in very a long time. She was looking at me for the first time in a very long time. “I’m - I don’t think I - I am, no,” I blurted out. The ice cubes in the glass I was holding rattled as my hand trembled. I put it back onto the table and pressed both my hands onto my thighs firmly. They were hot and damp. “What’s the matter?” Dehv asked, putting down her fork. Her beautiful brown eyes were wide with concern. I didn’t look away for fear of losing her. “I-I...I want to talk,” I began awkwardly, breathing fast. My heart thrummed. “Okay,” Dehv replied nodding, she pulled her chair closer to the table, her forehead scrunched up. She didn’t look away. “What is it, Yu?” “I want to talk about...the - the drought,” I said, my own eyes narrowed in confusion as the words tumbled out. “The - the... drought?” Dehv asked, her forehead scrunching even harder. Concern and confusion mingled across her face. “Yeah, the drought. You see Dehv,” I said inhaling, sweat dripping down my sides. “There’s like a drought right now and, well...it’s going to rain tonight. Like a huge storm, thunder and fucking lightning.” I raised my right hand and spread my fingers wide. “Uh huh,” Dehv replied more confused than ever. She reached out and touched her fingers to mine, making me tremble. She enclosed her digits around mine, pulling my hand down to the table gently. “Sweetie, I think you’re having...some sort of breakdown.” “I know,” I replied calmly now. Dehv’s head twitched in surprise. “I know, Dehv. What I’m trying to say is, that, the drought is us. We’re the drought,” I opened my palms, as sticky and sweaty as they were, and grabbed hold of her hand. She looked down at our enclosed fingers, then looked back up at me. Understanding fell over her face, forcing the breath out of her and flushing her cheeks. Dehv tightened her grip, staring hard at me. “Y-you - you said it was going to storm...soon?” she asked, her lips were trembling a little, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. I leaned forward and reached out to stroke her face with my other hand. She shivered. In the distance, a low rumble shuddered across the cloudless sky.


Chapter Four: Past Salem; 23, La Jolla “Jimmy, Damien said that he found someone close to us to hijack dad's plane. He said he didn’t have to pay them, they wanted to do it.” I say as I dress behind a curtain in the hospital triage. Jimmy doesn’t say anything for long moments and I can see him thinking about what I just said. When he does speak his words break my heart, “Salem, please don’t believe anything that maniac said. He was saying ANYTHING to hurt you.” I look at Jimmy, his skin just as flawless as it has been my whole life, he looks wrecked from the havoc going on in our lives. His normally happy eyes are downcast and sad. I felt bad that this was having such a bad effect on Jimmy. He looked more tortured about what had happened with Damien than he did after the plane crash. “He wasn’t lying!” I still reject his denial. “I could tell when Damien lied, his left eye twitches.” I say before correcting myself, I mean twitched. “Damien was crazy and confused, but he wasn’t a liar.” Jimmy is , the thought was random but I knew it was true. Jimmy and Jordan had lied to me plenty of times, they seemed to think if it was protecting me. Now I was left with Jimmy, who is a coward and obviously hiding something that he doesn’t want me to investigate. “Honey.” Jimmy starts, “How about we let Jordan rest in peace. In the end, he was doing what he loved most. It was the Lord’s plan for Jordan to impact fashion, impact the world. For a white man, Jordan was culture!” Tears began falling and he sniffled. “Honey, I don’t want to give the media anymore t ruths to exploit and mix with lies. There’s no eyewitnesses to give a true story, there’s nothing to find there.” But there was, the person who hijacked the plane lived, right? I wondered if Jordan’s cameras on the plane recorded to the JET cloud. Jimmy stands rubbing my arms, his expression sympathetic. “Salem I’m going to fly out the day after tomorrow. Whenever you’re ready to move on and not talk about Jordan’s unfortunate, tragic fate.” He starts sobbing, “This is why I cannot. His passing is my worst nightmare, the worst day of my life. I don’t want to keep talking about it.” His voice was cracking as he sobbed. I could understand why constantly bringing up the past could hurt. Then it hit me, Jimmy didn’t want to know the truth. There was something else going on that Jimmy didn’t want the world to know. I would definitely investigate, privately. I could never forgive the fuckers who did this or forgive Damien unless there was justice. “Retribution isn’t the answer.” Jimmy says as if he can read my thoughts. I didn’t respond because running and hiding wasn’t the answer either. Damien is dead. I would never be able to have him sent to prison, he wasn’t coming back. The hijacker however, was out there. If the Marine patrol was right then someone had a speed boat waiting and ended up driving Jordan to the island, hoping to save him, after attempting to kill him. Why? There was so much more that I needed to know. I decided then that after I found a new place to live not here in California or Oregon I would investigate Jordan’s death myself. “Salem I will get a room ready for you at home. Just come back to Oregon and let’s move on.” Grabbing and squeezing Jimmy’s hand looking at his blank brown eyes. I know it’s probably hard for him to look at me with the giant gash on the left side of my head from Damien hitting me with the end of a cane. I’m sure my black eyes and swollen cheek don’t make it easier. If I was honest with myself I could admit it was hard for me to look Jimmy in the eye. He betrayed me on what felt like the ultimate stage. Did I need to know at that moment that they lied to me my entire life? The real question was, why? Why adamantly tell me that I was adopted and that my parents just didn’t want to raise a baby? I winced in pain as I stretched my bandaged feet. They and my ankles are cut and still kind of bleeding from the glass I ran through while trying to escape. I should’ve ran to a car instead of stupidly freaking out after seeing the system was broken. There were two sets of keys hanging right next to the security pad. I had two cars there waiting and yet I didn’t go to either. Tears pricked my eyes as my mind wandered back to my home. I remembered the way my thighs quivered as I begged Damien to stop eating me, or fucking me each time he looked at me with a hungry glint in his eyes. He had the same glint in my sex room tonight. I am ashamed that I came each time his mouth ravaged my sensitive flesh. Unabashed shame flooded me when I thought about the way my traderous body spasmed from him eating me. He would do all the things he knew I loved and take my body while I cried through it all, wishing I’d never met him. It was my deepest secret that I would never tell. I orgasmed while being raped. I can’t let Ray love me the way he wanted to. I am so fucked up. I’m a selfish bitch though, I can’t let him go either. I want Ray to love me always. I need his unconditional love. I need to know that he is still mine and I am his. Ray knew abmy time in New York. From all the conversations I had with Jordan he never mentioned me being raped. He also never mentioned the partying. Jordan would’ve lost his mind if he knew about the drugs and the partying. About the night I slept in the art studio because I didn’t know how to tell Diane I didn’t want to go home. For some reason I could tell that Ray knew most of it. Atleast everything that I had told Juan. Jimmy squeezed my hand, bringing me back to the present. “Salem, you may need to stay the night at the hospital. You seem out of it.” He looked concerned so I gave him a small smile. I needed to shut Jimmy out. He was only going to slow me down from finding Jordan’s killer. I needed justice and answers. My phone buzzed an unknown number and I silenced it. They’ll leave a message if it’s important. Wincing as I stand on my aching feet. I pull Jimmy into a tight hug, “I love you Jimmy. I am going to miss you so much.” I pulled away from him seeing the disappointment in his expression and I continue breaking his heart, “I am going to pass on going back to Oregon. I can’t go back there knowing that dad is not there.” Tears begin falling from my eyes as my truth rips the barely hanging bandage from both of our hearts. I loved my dad so much. “I know you’ve always been the one guiding me out of the storms, but this time I’m going to find my own way. Who knows I might actually play in the rain a little?” I chuckled as tears kept falling down my cheeks. Jimmy nods, “Okay my dear.” He wipes his tears, turning to grab his Gucci duffle bag. “I love you still, so please at least send a text from time to time. Okay?” I nod unable to speak. This feels like the band is breaking up and I don’t understand why. Jimmy is still my father, so why does it feel like I won’t see him again?


From the Story Exchange on our Discord server. **Constraints**: Location: A space station, Word: Candidate, Character: The greatest mall Santa of all time, Trope: A scrooge-like character regains their holiday spirit, Character: A sentient reindeer, Location: A small town. *** #Joytown Filbert Filligree flopped into the fallen snow, anticipating his next few months of irritations. It was Christmas time, and all of the residents of Joytown would stop at nothing to make sure he felt their “Christmas spirit”. He rolled his eyes as he drove down Main Street. The tinsel and trees and lights were a harsh reminder of what he would have to endure. He then rolled his car as he skidded to a stop in a steep ditch. The tinsel and trees and lights were somehow tangled up in his dismantled fender. Townsfolk rushed over to see what had happened. They plied their holiday greetings on him like a gaggle of snow geese pecking at a crumb of wet, soggy bread. “I don’t need your well wishes, I need help!” he bellowed. “I know just what you need, actually.” Charity Chipperton exclaimed as he lay there in the snow drift. “Fine, whatever, just get me out of here,” he replied with a huff. “Ooohhhh!” she squeed, clapping her hands in front of her with glee. The townsfolk helped him out of the ditch, in the most irritating manner. They patted him on the head when he was free. Gilbert ground his teeth. “Now for your end of the bargain,” Charity said. “You’re seriously going to hold me to that?” he mumbled. “Yes! This will be the happiest Christmas ever. We’re going to make you the best Mall Santa of all time!” Filbert scowled at her as she dragged him away. “Now,” Charity said, bubbling with joy as she spoke. “In order to make you the best candidate, we need to turn that frown upside down! Who’s ready to make gingerbread houses?” “I would think extracting my car from the snow bank would be more important.” “Now, now, that’s not the holiday spirit our Mall Santa needs! Focus!” Filbert grudgingly obeyed, first building the gingerbread houses, then working through a Taylor Swift dance routine she had suggested. “I still don’t see why I’m doing this.” “Shh.” Charity placed a finger over his lips. “Just become one with the music. Our readers, I mean guests, will appreciate T-Swift.” They danced and pranced the evening away. By his fortieth try, Gilbert almost admitted that he liked the routine. There was something magical about the smooth beats and hip sounds of T-Swift, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced before. When the big day came, he rushed to claim one of the chairs lined up in a row. He was ready to become Joytown’s best Mall Santa. The choosiest of children would request gifts from the various competing Klauses. The Santa they deemed most real was the winner. Filbert bit his lip in anticipation. Sally Sallerson was the queen of the choosy children. She strode to the line up, all eyes were on her. When it came time for voting, all of the other children took her lead. She was the one to impress. “Nervous?” a voice beside Filbert asked. He turned to see a reindeer. He looked around for another source of the voice and the reindeer gave an exasperated sigh. “It’s me. You’re not dreaming, or hallucinating, or suffering the effects of some bad Christmas pudding. Believe me, I’ve heard it all.” “Y-you talk?” “I speak, yes.” The reindeer corrected. “What’s going on?” “Well the real answer to your question is that you are in a simulation aboard an intergalactic space station and being harvested for your human creativity, which is a rare commodity in the Milky Way. But that’s probably not what you meant.” “Wait, what?” “You probably meant to ask me why a reindeer is talking to you. And the simple answer is because you need encouragement.” “Well, yes, but-“ “So here’s what you’re going to do.” The reindeer leaned in closer and shared some of the secrets of confidence. Deep secrets. Secrets too amazing to write here. With his newfound skills, Filbert easily swayed Sally Sallerson and thus the entire horde of children. He was paraded through the streets as the newest, bestest Santa the town had ever seen. A little confidence and Christmas cheer had made him happy again. A quick mind-wipe later, and he forgot all about his simulated existence aboard DeepSpace 45, the galaxy’s foremost space station. You really should visit sometime. Their mocha Frappuccinos are excellent.


“Whatcha drinking there?” A man said from across the bar as the bartender slid a martini glass in front of Jennie. Jennie didn’t want to be at the bar, but she felt obligated. Her best work friend, Tabby, invited a few people to this new bar for her birthday. The bar had a Hollywood glamor theme, not to mention, it was about time someone opened a bar that was not a speakeasy in this town. When Jennie entered the bar, she spotted Tabby right away. Tabby waved and Jennie waved back. Tabby was with two women who looked as though they belonged on the cover of a magazine. The bartender served the three woman martinis and asked what Jennie was having. The second Jennie had ordered a Grey Goose martini dirty with blue cheese stuffed olive. Tabby waved at someone else as they entered the bar and left Jennie at the bar waiting for her drink. It occurred to Jennie only then that Tabby and these two magazine models were not the extent of the party. Jennie was now alone. “A martini,” Jennie said with a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, yum. I love martinis. Vodka or gin?” “Vodka.” “Do you mind if I scoot closer? I can barely hear you.” Jennie looked around and then back at the man, “scoot closer to me?” He laughed, picking up his half-drunk cocktail, made his way down the bar, and occupied the stool next to Jennie. Now she was stuck. When she looked at him, she noticed the mole on his left cheek with three short hairs sticking straight out. It made Jennie wince but she couldn’t help but stare and then glanced down at her drink, her strawberry hair covering her face. “James,” he held out his hand at an awkward angle for her to take. “Jennie,” she took his hand with the tips of her fingers. He nodded. “Do you come here often?” “I thought this bar was new,” Jennie furrowed her eyebrows. “Is it? I’m not from here,” he said. Jennie nodded her head, looking down at her martini. She couldn’t possibly be rude and walk away, or do as she really wanted to do, and down her drink and escape into the brink night air. No, she could not possibly offend this stranger. “Do you want to know where I am from?” He asked with raised eyebrows. “Of course,” Jennie said, looking up at him for a moment before returning her eyes back to her martini. “I’m from Asheville, North Carolina. Home of the Biltmore Estate.” Jennie nodded her head looking down at her martini glass. She wanted to force herself to look back up at him but could not make herself look at that mole again. Instead she took a sip of the bitter vodka. “Ever been there?” he asked. “Can’t say I have.” The pair of strangers sat in silence. He opened his mouth and shut it before opening it again like a fish. “Look. If you are not interested in me, you could just say so. You don’t have to be so rude.” Before Jennie could respond, James had picked up his near empty cocktail and walked away. Jennie shook her head surprised by his bold reaction. She was trying to be anything but rude. It was not her intention to make him feel unwanted and she felt guilty for making James feel that way. But the guilt subsided when she realized she was free from making small talk with a man who discussed her. Later that night, as Jennie was settling up her bill for her one martini she looked up to see Tabby talking to James. She winced once again at that mole on his left cheek. How could Tabby be interested in such a weird guy? Tabby flipped her hair and looked up at James with doe eyes. “So much for saying goodbye,” Jennie said to herself as she signed the check and escaped out the bar door. The idea of curling up with Mittens, her Pomeranian, and watching the latest episode of Big Brother thrilled her and she bounded down the street feeling the lifted weight of forced conversation. On Monday morning, Jennie entered the office and grabbed her first cup of coffee before sitting down at her desk. That was strange, Tabby was usually the first in the office, but she was not at her desk. Jennie continued her work figuring she may have had a personal appointment she didn’t tell Jennie about. From Jennie’s vantage point, she saw two police officers enter the office. Jennie watched as they talked to Darleen at the front desk. The look on Darleen’s face concerned Jennie. Darleen escorted the officers out of view, but that didn’t put Jennie’s mind at ease. Jennie watched as Darleen walked towards the breakroom. Although she had her coffee already, she made a calculated bet that it would be simple to get Darleen to tell Jennie what had happened. Jennie poured her coffee into the wastebasket next to her desk and approached the breakroom for her second cup. Darleen had the refrigerator open and seemed to look for something. “Good morning,” Jennie said with a tight smile and looked back down at the coffee machine. “Good morning. It’s already been quite a morning hasn’t it,” Darleen started the conversation without Jennie pushing. This was too easy. “What happened?” “Did you see those two officers?” “Yeah, what was that about?” “Well, they are asking about Tabby Johnson.” Jennie’s mouth dropped open and she attempted to not look as surprised as she felt. She knew it was suspicious when Tabby didn’t show up to work. She pressed Darleen to give her more. “Apparently, they found Tabby’s body down by the river. Someone had strangled her and sexually assaulted her. Last they saw her was at that new bar. You know, the one with the Hollywood glamor theme. She got into a cab with a guy with a mole on his left cheek. You were close with her, weren't you?”


I fell down. Down into darkness. I landed with a splash, in a shallow water stream. My leg hurts like hell, and then really, absolute hell. I quickly get out of the water, before my backpack is soaked. Once I am crawling out of the water, I notice a few things. I can’t see anything, not even my hands in front of my face. I might turned blind, or it is just really dark down here. The other thing is that it smells. It smells like rotten eggs or something. But it for sure is a smell I have never, ever smelled before. Once I am out of the water, almost crying from the pain of my leg, I feel my backpack sliding off my back. I place it next to me. Next to me on the ice cold, wet rocks. I open it up, and search in the dark for my lighter. I hear something drop, really close to me. I don’t know if it came out of my backpack, or if it was something different. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it scared me. It made me keep my breath in, and sit there in total silence. At that point I noticed that I heard the water moving, a slow and relaxing sound. I also heard the water fall down or something, but that sound came from really far away. But furthermore I didn’t hear anything else. for a minute, I sat there in silence. When I didn’t hear anything else, I went on looking. “Ah, there it is”, I heard myself say out loud, whilst taking my tiny blue lighter out of my backpack. I immediately regretted saying out loud. I thought that it might have had awoken some animals that lived there. **please leave a response :)** tell me what to do better or change.


Two frogs sitting on a lily pad. The first one says, “do you ever get the blues?” “Yeah, sure man, everybody gets the blues sometimes.” “No, I mean for real. The *actual* blues.” “What do you mean the "actual" blues?” “Sometimes I look out across the pond and wonder if there is more out there. If there are other ponds, other lily pads, other frogs, like us. If there were, would they be more advanced? Would they be bigger than us? Could they jump higher? Would they have twice as many tongues so they could eat twice as many flies? Could they teleport? If they came to our pond, would they subjugate us, and just use us as a stopover point to get to the next one?” “A lily pad rest stop?” “Yeah, something like that.” “I don’t know man. Seems like you got an overactive imagination. Why don’t you take some time off, go rest for a while. I think this sun is getting to you.’" “No, I’m serious. What if there are other ponds out there?” “Well, if there were don’t you think we would have heard about it by now? Wouldn’t somebody have ventured out found one, and told us about it?” “What happened to Jim?” “Jim?” “Jim Heinz.” “Oh man. Do you really believe those stories?” “I didn’t say I believe anything. I’m just asking what do you think happened to him?” “Jim was a nutcase since he was a tadpole, everybody knows that.” “It’s possible.” “Yeah, sure. Anything is possible, I guess. But if you want me to believe Jim Heinz was abducted by a hawk and carried away to another pond full of sand and salty water and waves as tall as the trees. And then, after surviving this astronomical adventure--after all that, he hopped his goofy self back here over a period of three spawnings, I’m sorry. No, in fact, I do not believe that happened, nor that it is even remotely possible. " “Either way, I just think about how many ponds could be out there, and it just makes me feel insignificant--how little we are in the grand scheme. If our pond dried up tomorrow, it wouldn’t even matter, the sun and moon and stars wouldn’t even blink. Wouldn’t even miss us.” “Wouldn’t miss you. I happen to think the frog race was put here for a reason, and I try to live my life by that reason.” “What reason?” “Look man, I’m going for a dip. I’m not trying to solve all the pond’s problems right here on this lily pad.” “I’m not trying to solve--” The well-grounded and happy frog leapt into the water and in mid-air thrusted out its tongue, snapping up a gnat that was darting by. He looked back to make sure his buddy saw the feat, and smiled because he knew it gave credence to his views. What other thing in the whole wide pond can do something so complex, so precise, so quickly? Nobody. He knew the frog’s place, and didn’t think there was much need to debate it. He enjoyed the cool water across his face and swam past the grass and the snails. He nodded to the turtle--if the turtle isn’t living proof about the nature of the pond, then I don’t know what is. He liked the turtle, they were nice enough fellows, but there was no doubting who was created first. The sunlight glittered through the water, sparkling and rippling in his wake. He floated to the top and let the sun dry his chest. It was good to be a frog. \*\*\* Follow u/quillandtrowel for more interesting stories.


He wondered what it would be like to only have 4 limbs, dry, bony, dense, meaty appendages. Could they feel the piercing cold, the delicious warmth of magma, the tickling sensation of cosmic neutrinos streaming from space through the core of the earth as if it were a pane of glass? It baffled the capacity of his imagination to dream of no longer having countless slick, writhing tentacles, each with a nearly godlike intelligence of its own, oozing bubble universes from each sucker, popping into existence only to annihilate itself after a few short eternities when it inevitably collided with its antimatter twin. What would it be like to move through time in only one direction, with the flow of entropy, and not to swim forward, backward, noncausalward, or Moebiusward through the slippery 8th dimension? To live like a flat worm, crawling monotonically from one end of a string to another? But most of all he wondered what it would be like to experience Love, the quirky biochemical, parasitic addiction that lodged deep inside the tiny human brain. He had observed Love from every conceivable angle. Psychically luring his experimental subjects into dripping, breathing caverns, he had peeled them apart, micro-layer by micro-layer, tasting every molecule, mapping out every biochemical pathway. Love was as much a part of their higher brain function as the deeper, primeval strata and brain stem. It reached downward to each cellular division. It permeated their primitive and hopelessly messy genetic material, the tireless waltz in every nucleus of perpetual winding, unwinding, tangling, and twisting. He wanted to *Know* know. And how could he without their mortality, or their misguided belief in “separateness” and “apartness” from each other that necessitated Love in the first place? Without being a creature of material instinct, of hunger, of survival, and of the tangible present, it was as comprehensible as imagining being a ladybug or a twig. Love leaked into everything. It drove them to reproduce, to keep their tribe coherent, to be tender, and to be insatiably violent when the object of their love was threatened, and when they felt threatened by the object of their love. When he crossed over and implanted, he demanded to be called Emmanuel, which roughly translated into human conceptual thought as "god creature with us, and within us, in our deepest organs, growing, consuming, pulsing, until it bursts dripping out of our chests, leaving behind only decimated, gaping, terrified flesh." But after he erupted from the ribcage of Mary, his surrogate mother, bones splintering and organs collapsing in sucking, squelching agony, they named him Yesh'ua instead. It was the most common name that year for newborn boys. The first Love Yesh’ua experienced was from his surrogate father, Joseph. He was a quiet, melancholy man, especially now that a portion of his memory was fragmented and scarred over. His mind had mercifully sealed away the trauma of witnessing a mass of teeth, spider legs, snake-like coils, and eyes emerge from his dying betrothed and coagulate into the shape of a newborn. Nevertheless, his Love for Yesh’ua and Yesh’ua’s half-siblings (for this was not the first time Joseph had been widowed) was fierce and animalistic, as one intuitively protecting his replicated genes. To wash and warm and nourish these extensions of himself began as a form of self-preservation, and matured as the objects of Joseph’s Love gradually became distinct and Other. He was willingly deceived, unconditionally inviting foreign invaders into his heart, a Trojan fully aware that the magnificent Horse contained hidden imposters, anticipating their emergence with great excitement and trepidation. Back when Yesh’ua was, is, and will be, multidirectionally eternal, he had sired millions, and had done so without crippling, mammalian attachment and desperation. He effortlessly filled every subterranean continent with his progeny, every blazing swirl of the earth’s core, every world between worlds. There was no biological pressure to shelter or feed or teach those he had willed into existence. Unlike Joseph, he was not propelled by billions of years of genetic mutation to see traces of himself in his son’s face. There was no inexpressible urge to pass down his chromosomes, his life’s trade, his status in his community, his superstitions and habits and traditions, his rituals and scriptures and the Mitzvah of his people. Yesh’ua grew in wisdom, stature, and favor. Each day he worked to scrape, splinter, and coax wood into unnatural shapes and baubles and small pieces of furniture. Each day he committed more of the Torah to memory. If “holy” means “separate, set apart, distinct,” then each day he and Joseph grew a little holier from each other. It thrilled Joseph’s heart and made him Love Yesh’ua more and more. One week when Yesh’ua was 12 years old, he amused himself by taking passages from the Pentateuch, rotating them perpendicularly into the fifth dimension, folding each one recursively inside itself, and then transmuting them back into human thought and speech. The Temple rabbis were revolted and horrified, so much so that they mistook the feeling for awe and wonder. Joseph had to drag Yesh’ua away from the throng of frenzied Pharisees and scribes, all ravenous to hear more as blood from ruptured capillaries in their prefrontal cortexes oozed from their ears and tear ducts. When the adult Yesh’ua began his own rabbinic career at the age of 30, he discovered the Love of the wretched and needy. He transubstantiated water into a fluid that the humans tasted as wine. He stretched out invisibly to push tumors and infections backwards against the gentle current of time, cells shrinking and combining until they had anti-mitosed into non-existence. He held all the countless possible loaves and fish, hanging in delicate superposition, and collapsed them into existence in the single reality where hungry crowds gathered at his feet. They were like strays who just needed their basic appetites cared for, and their simple loyalty and trust flowed as easily as salivation. Their Love and attention felt like a heady rush. It felt much like the Love that came from his disciples. He led them back and forth across the rugged countryside like a piper enthralling children. He carved and sculpted reality as if it were cedarwood in Joseph’s workshop, with smooth and seamless joints and flawless lacquer finish. They marveled at the wonders he brought forth. One disciple did not Love like a simple child. Unlike Peter and the others, John did not boldly and ignorantly declare his undying devotion to novelty, miracles, and magicians. His wit was surprising, even to a being who inhabited all possible timelines. His laugh seemed to make the Milky Way pulse and hum. John could not walk on water, or terrorize herds of pigs over cliffsides, or tell people their secret sins, but when he embraced Yesh’ua, his bosom radiated warmth. His deep sighs into Yesh’ua’s ear always seemed to say, “At last, we are each held.” John couldn’t raise anyone from the dead, and yet power would flow out from him at each touch or graze. Yesh’ua felt it course through their clasped hands, as John absentmindedly stroked Yesh’ua’s palm with his thumb. When they all camped homeless in a field or glen, Yesh’ua liked sleeping next to John, so that he could inhale the warm breath of life that glided in and out of John’s nostrils, like a spirit hovering over the waters. When Yesh’ua washed the disciples’ feet, it felt like washing children’s feet, or wiping children’s noses, or picking ticks off a beloved pet. But washing John’s feet felt like the tingle of imminent lightning. John’s feedback had been invaluable during the early days of Yesh’ua’s ministry. While miracles proved wildly popular, the preaching floundered. Lectures dragged on about topics like “Deliverance from Earthly Suffering, Using Simple Techniques to Inhibit the Neural Pathways Associated with Pain.” If monologues weren’t interspersed with snacks or healings (the lepers almost never said thank you), the crowd would evaporate at the first distraction. A particularly unsuccessful homily titled “Breaking Through the Psychic Barriers Separating Individual Human Minds Using Quantum Tunnelling” ended abruptly when an old woman’s skull partially melted during the practical demonstration. The bored and confused mob stoned Yesh’ua to death. Tenderly cradling Yesh’ua’s shattered body as the crowd dispersed, John mused, “My last rabbi focused all his sermons on repentance and sorrow. He baptized people in the river to wash away their sins.” John rubbed Yesh’ua’s twitching chest as the arduous resurrection process began. “Then you came along with signs and wonders. But you're dressing up the same message: 'You're broken, follow these steps and I can fix you.’” John licked his finger and used it to wipe rivulets of dried blood from Yesh’ua’s brow. Yesh’ua progressed from spasms to loud gasps as his circulatory system rebooted. “Most people are poor, hungry, thirsty, probably downtrodden, persecuted for one reason or another. Instead of encouraging them to divorce themselves from their bleak existence, why don’t you tell them that they’re blessed, just the way they are? Turn your other cheek, there’s blood on that side too.” John leaned his face closer as Galilean sunlight faded into dusk. “You're not going to teach these people how to handle venomous snakes or cast out demons, or how speak in the tongues of angels, or how to use their minds to throw mountains into the sea. Nobody has powers, nobody lives forever, and if nothing else gets done, we might as well love each other.” As Yesh’ua’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing he noticed was how close John’s lips were. Of all the disciples, John was the gentlest and most patient while Yesh’ua was rising again. Peter usually just shook him until he could feel a heartbeat. “And nobody understands when you talk about some ‘Big Bang’ at the beginning of everything,” John continued. “I’ve always imagined that in the beginning was a Word. Just one word, and that Word was Love. Or some seed that one day grew into Love.” Reanimation was pretty much finished, bone integrity restored, heart revitalized, lungs unpunctured. Why did his chest still ache, as if happiness was stabbing him in the heart? Shakily, Yesh’ua sat up and pressed his lips to John’s cheek, greeting him as he did each disciple after returning from a long journey from beyond the grave. This kiss, however, betrayed the emotion throbbing through his flushed face and pounding heart. All was quiet. Inside each man’s head, every thought fled. *An honest answer is like a kiss on the lips.* Yesh’ua leaned in and tried again, more honestly. *Oh, that you were like a brother to me who nursed at my mother's breasts! If I found you outside, I would kiss you, and none would despise me.* Yesh’ua had copulated with other god creatures, with past and future versions of himself, with the vacuum of space. His relations with all those beings had been mathematical and perfect, the spacetime-bending pleasure and agony leaving black holes in their wake. It was nothing like that with John. Instead of endlessly iterating fractals of trillions of mouths and tongues roiling together in hunger, there were only two. *Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For thy love is more delightful than wine.* Instead of helices of pleasure spiraling forward forever, so far that they looped back to before the Big Bang, there was only the brief 20-30 minutes of clutching and pawing at each other, as if vainly attempting to cheat death, yearning for eternity. *Love and faithfulness meet together; righteousness and peace kiss each other.* Instead of tentacles lightyears long, intertwining like tendrils, merging at the subatomic level, there were only weak animal bodies hugging each other, as if somehow by squeezing and thrusting they could convince their incompressible bodies to occupy the same volume. *His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me.* They lay panting on the floor of the beached fishing boat. A billion galaxies burned beyond reach above Galilea’s sea. Yesh’ua’s mind and heart buzzed and hummed and burned like the innumerable quasars he had, in another lifetime, snuffed out of existence. “Being with you makes me wish we could live forever,” murmured John. Yesh’ua, sleepy and drifting, simultaneously experiencing the Sun’s supernova billions of years in the future, gazed into John’s nut-brown eyes and was surprised by the hot tears filling his own. The Word was in the beginning. All things were made by It; nothing that exists was made without It. In It was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended It not. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us. During the Passover supper of Yesh’ua’s 33rd year, he made an announcement to his disciples, “Whither I go, thou canst not follow me.” Hotheaded Peter was the first to respond. “I will lay down my life for thy sake!” Yesh’ua was too numb to be amused. But all John had to say was “That’s selfish,” before excusing himself and walking briskly from the upper room, unimpressed and agitated. That night in Gethsemane, while the other disciples slept, the tempter came to him. “Do you Love me?” asked John. “With all my heart, all my soul, all my mind, and all my strength,” insisted Yesh’ua. “If I was dying of starvation, would you feed me?” demanded John. “I would command that these stones be made bread,” said Yesh’ua. “If I stood on the pinnacle of the temple and threw myself down, would you rescue me?” accused John. “I would bear you up with my hands like an angel, and you would not even strike your foot against a stone,” Yesh’ua assured. “And if we stood on the highest mountain to see the kingdoms of the world and their glory, and I asked you for all of them, would you give them to me?” John’s angry, pleading voice in the still midnight threatened to wake the others. “Anything you asked, you would receive,” implored Yesh’ua. John took a deep, shaky breath, and in a still, small voice he asked, “If you love me so much, then, why the fuck are you leaving?” Yesh’ua closed his eyes for a very long time. “This Love is like living death. You all carry it around like it’s another heart or liver or lung, and you’re all dying.” “Everything dies here,” explained the tempter. “Everything but me. I won’t carry it anymore. I can’t drink this cup.” “Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” “I can’t drink this cup.” On Friday, Yesh’ua hung impaled from a wooden cross, ostensibly bound by nails, as ostensibly as gravity had bound him to the surface of the stormy lake when he had strolled out to the disciples’ fishing boat. Salome and Mary Magdalene wailed and clawed at the dirt. John supported the limp and dejected Joseph. The nerve endings in Yesh’ua’s wrists and feet screamed up his spine and into his brain, but the pain could only engulf his bodily vessel. The anguish and abandonment dripping from John’s scowling eyes pierced deeper than mortality, past the event horizon at the center of Yesh’ua’s being and into the numerically indescribable singularity beneath.


Atlas was my only friend. My computer keys, worn and scratched with the pain of a martyr, were my link to happiness. Now that my keyboard was somewhere in the dumpster, my happiness was too. The darkness surrounded everything here at the Fawkes, but you could still see the outlines. Alcohol hung in the air, a smell that had never vacated its position. No one that found their way here forgot the experience, that was for sure. The glasses gave an escape, a door that we all strived to find in the bottom of the barrel. The Fawkes wasn't my home, though. I didn't have one. "Leaving already, Nika?" Jim, the bartender, was washing up behind the counter. They never miss anything, bartenders, you can't hide from them. "Yeah, it's getting late." I turned to go but rushed back to grab one more drink. You can never have too many. The night sky was muddled with brown, like dried blood on a piece of metal. If it was blood, though, then who was bleeding? I heard Atlas's impersonal voice telling me "Cannot determine, Nainika," and I laughed. It was nice to feel like I had a friend again. I was in Arctica, where the settlements were kind and welcoming. They gave a chance for a new life, one without the prejudice of the real world. I'd come here with the last of the scraps I made from animatron building, but it wasn't enough to live on. It was times like those, times where my stomach begged and pleaded for something to fill it, that made me miss Atlas. When I made it back to my dark hotel room, the cold biting at my shoulders, I was greeted by Penny. She was lounging on the couch with her socks off and watching a live broadcast. "What are you doing back so early?" Penny always talked with a sort of tone that made you think she was interrogating you. She was a great roommate, sure, but she was more of a partner than a friend. "I came home... you know... with my feet," I said. The Uni-heaters felt like warm wind on my bare arms. I settle onto the couch and shoved Penny's legs to the floor, much to her dismay. "Nainika." I kept looking at the TV, not talking to Penny. The odd thing was, though, that she didn't pry. "What did you just say?" She looked at me sideways, questioning my words. "I didn't say anything," Penny said. She sized me up for a second, and then turned her head back to the screen. The documentary on the screen was about a whale that swam across the ocean to find its daughter. It was a cute whale, if you could even call a whale cute. "I bet it's fake." Penny was always the optimist. I chuckled to myself, my fingers still flexing to combat the frostbite. The whale had a white birthmark, which was odd. I'd never seen a whale with a white birthmark. Then again, there were a lot of things I hadn't seen. "That's sweet of you, Pen," I teased, whacking her with a pillow. She kept her eyes glued to the screen, not acknowledging me. Well, some roommate. I went to the kitchen, still wary of the voice, and started to heat up a pizza. There were no good flavors, so I had to have Jalapeño Delight Magnificence, the worst name anyone would ever hear. The supposedly green peppers were now a sickly yellow, and my stomach turned in disgust. It was a great day for disgusting frozen food. "Nainika," the voice said. I had heard it before, it seemed, in another world. I could hear the flat tone, the pointed words. What was it? "Nainika." Atlas. He was calling for me. I grabbed my coat and rushed out the door, let the wind blow in behind me. The snow piled down on my hood but I didn't care. "ATLAS!" I screamed on and on into the darkness of the night, letting it echo into the glaciers. "ATLAS!" "Nainika," he whispered. It seemed almost like a song, lilting its way into my ears and taunting me. "Where are you!?" I couldn't hear any footsteps, but I have no idea why I expected any from an AI program. My chest felt raw, my heart pounding against my lungs and beating faster. Where was he? I needed him. I needed my only friend. "Why do you cry, Nainika?" "Because I have no purpose. You heard them. That's why you're here." "You have a purpose to me. Without you, I would not be able to understand the complications of human life. However little, that is a purpose." "...It's not the same." "What about your situation is not the same to the one that I described?" "Well, you don't count." "Why do I not count?" "Because I have a purpose in your mind, but you're not the world." "How am I not the world?" "Well..." The tears slipped down my cheeks as I held in the words like vomit. I would never release them, no, not even to Atlas. He would never understand, he'd try to minimize it. What if I just wanted to feel sad? What if I didn't feel like rationalizing it? The memory jarred my mind, the snow piercing my skin like spears. "Why do you cry?" Atlas's figurine appeared in the screen. The snow piercing my skin, the voice disappearing in the wind. Atlas would come back. He would. I knew him better than to leave me. When you come back, Atlas, I'll tell you all the things I've learned. I'll tell you about Jim the bartender and all of the stories he tells. I'll tell you about those documentaries that Penny loves to watch. You'd want to hear about that, wouldn't you? And I'd tell you all of my stories, all of the things I've done. You'd be surprised the places I've gone. I'm here, though. I'm here, waiting for you.


Formaldehyde. It was no lie to say that it stank--even someone lacking their sense of smell could detect it. The pain, searing the back of one’s eyelids and scorching their throat, stinging their nostrils even as they flared wider. The other sensations--the dizzying weakness, the oppressive weight, the foreboding. It was the smell of death, and well Avery Winston knew it. Fifteen years as a forensic nurse, a long childhood as the daughter of a mortician--or, as her father was more commonly known, “Dr. Dead”--and countless visits to the funeral home had instilled a chief detective’s awareness in her. The stench leaked in through her mask, tugged at the elastic straps and jerked at the edges, as though the chemical had fingers and intended to use them. It burned a thick layer over her visible skin--her collarbone and cheeks, the line of her brow, the lobes of her ears, her pale forearms--whatever the mask, her scrubs, and her gloves didn’t cover. She could still feel the scars it had left twenty years ago, when one open door had led her into a lifetime of pain. Daddy had never been a softie, despite his upturned lips and sagging waistline. His career had hardened him, left him hollow and devoid of the life he rarely ever saw as he spent day after day embalming the dead of McDonough. But seeing him hunched over the table that day, normally steady hands trembling like a drunkard’s, countenance crumpling until his usually smiling mouth quivered, eyes fixed upon the body he’d just been delivered. He hadn’t been prepared. Neither had she. Avery was supposed to have gone straight to her apartment in downtown Atlanta that day, to celebrate her success with her roommate and boyfriend. She was supposed to have gotten drunk, passed out, forgotten all about the test she’d passed, and not gotten the news until the next afternoon. Instead, something had taken the wheel of her Hyundai and driven her down to McDonough, forty minutes away from the comfort of her home. She could have called them, relayed the good news over the phone sometime that weekend. She should have called them. Instead, she had driven to the morgue, where she knew her dad would be. She had stepped up to the front desk, easily caught Stacey’s attention, and been solemnly directed to the back room. The smell had never been so strong. It had always lingered on Daddy’s clothes, of course, and hung heavy in the funeral homes and the morgue. But walking into that room...it had more than lingered; it had clung with a vengeance, wrapping onto her every limb, seizing her fingers and her eyelids, her lungs and her heart, rendering her emotionless. She hadn’t heard the indistinct call of her name from behind, in the high-pitched voice of her father’s assistant, hadn’t heard the warning...not until it was too late. Her own hands shook, palms grew clammy, phone slipped and fell with a clatter to the linoleum floor, as she edged over the threshold. A warning siren sounded in the back of her mind, reminding her that she didn’t need to be back here, that the sights and smells of death would only make her sick. That there could only be one reason for her father to show such signs of grief. It wasn’t just anyone on the surgical table. It wasn’t just another nameless face, another careless addict, another texting driver, another heart attack victim. How could it be? How could it be anyone else, when no one had curls so thick and luscious, eyes so wide and luminous, skin so fair and flawless, as her mother? It wasn’t possible, her mind screamed, along with a thousand curses and rebuttals, a million cries, each one shriller and sharper than the last. And yet...wasn’t that what everyone else said? No! Why? It can’t be! But it was. It was over. Her mother lay there dead, her father bent over her lifeless form in silent weeping. Bile rose to coat her throat as formaldehyde and tears pierced her eyes. Shudders shook her shoulders, sobs wracked her frame. Avery could see it as clearly as if she had been standing there, watching herself that day. She had slowly moved to Daddy’s side, dropped to her knees before Mama’s dangling feet. She had cupped his hand, gripping his pen until his knuckles whitened, and stretched it out flat. A whimper had left his ashen lips then, breaking the stiff silence and triggering a tidal wave of emotion. They’d cried there together. Two years later, her career as a forensic nurse had begun. Daddy had been there, the week of her graduation, the year she’d spent interning, the day she finally got the job. He’d said Mama would be proud. He’d said he was too. They never found out how or why Mama had died, how she’d ended up there , then . That was why she’d kept on going, even though the opportunity to live out her girlhood dream as an interior designer had presented itself several times. It wasn’t about duty or expectations anymore, not when people like Mama died everyday and no one knew why . Daddy had been there every step of the way, like Mama would have been. Daddy was her lifeline now. The fingers pinched her skin, picked at the scars until they became scabs again. Then they opened and began gushing blood like fresh wounds. The formaldehyde burned, blazing a path to the pit of Avery’s stomach as she strode into the room with purpose, determined not to show any sign of weakness--not when she was on call. Not when another person was dead. In the distance, Dr. Rayne called her name, the smooth cadence of his voice not quite enough to drag her away from her job, nor wrench out away from the fringes of her memories--her nightmares. His footsteps, growing quicker and lighter by the second, made their way into earshot as Avery realized he was coming closer, coming to her. But why? The patient was already dead and, if she’d been informed, then he certainly knew. “Avery!” His voice was in her ear now, his gloved hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off, gave him a cursory glance and a reassuring nod before she waved him away and, with little bravado, threw back the curtain. The stench assailed her, each breath a pinprick in her nose and lungs--and then the sight met her eyes. His hands, normally steady but always moving, were completely still. The quirk of his mouth--gone, leaving in its wake an even frown. His eyes, concentrated and clear at all times, were glassy and hollow, floating in an abyss. Daddy? Dr. Rayne’s arm encased her shoulders and tucked her into his side, preventing her from turning and running, while he whispered the customary condolences and rattled off “this procedure that” and “twenty mLs of such-and-such.” It’d never worked. She’d watched it--for Pete’s sake, she’d used it--on grieving family and friends for years, and she knew it did no good. For the doctors and nurses, maybe. But to the one hearing it? Never. She hadn’t been prepared for this, regardless of the smell of death. One could never be prepared.