Jack sat on the stoop of his Troy brownstone, bent over and holding his head in his hands. His fingers played with his dark curly locks tinged with a hint of gray. With a sigh of impatience, he almost pulled his cell from the pocket of his black dress pants and called Yvette. He was then startled by the loud, repeated honks of his sister's truck and nearly fell off the porch. He jogged the short distance to the Ford, opened the door, and hopped in. He said to Yvette in a sarcastic tone, “On time, like usual.” As Yvette pulled away from the curb , she gave Jack a hasty once-over. She nodded approval and said, “Not bad, maybe a few more gray hairs than last month. You're not so ugly after all.” Jack grinned at the decades old joke from childhood. He said, “ That's a high compliment coming from you. My greatest fear is that Mom may be bored with her retirement, decide she's not done raising a family and give birth to a son who is more handsome than me.” Yvette snorted and said, “Imagine Mom giving birth at 65! Knowing nothing about this potential baby, he would be a far better brother than you.” Feigning tears and pretending to cry, Jack said, “You hurt my feelings. I don't want to go to this wedding with you. Turn the truck around!” Yvette smirked and said in a very dramatic voice, “I didn't mean it. You did me a huge favor by going at the last minute. You're also my funniest and smartest brother, since you're my only one.” They both laughed at the backhanded compliment and Jack asked, “Why isn't Roger going? I shouldn't have answered my cell last night when you called. I ought to have been at Saratoga today, winning thousands on the ponies ” Yvette said, “Knowing your luck, I saved you from the poor house. I'm picking up your share of the wedding gift and you can pig out and drink to your heart's content. Sasha doesn't spare any expense, especially for her daughter, and we won't be able to eat for days.” Yvette paused for a minute and gazed at her bright green eyes, highlighted by jet black eyeliner and mascara, in the rear view mirror. She continued in a somewhat defensive tone, “Roger started not to feel well last night and wondered if he was coming down with Covid. He thought it best not to take any chances.” “How convenient,” Jack said as he looked at a few boats on the Hudson River. What luck your invitation said plus one and you were free to bring anyone.” After a long pause he asked, “What's the bride like? I don't remember you telling me Sasha had a daughter. I thought Sasha was only a few years older than us, mid-forties or so. Her daughter must be very young.” Yvette said, “I don't know much about her. Her name is Penelope and Sasha tells me she's a little bitch.” Roger did a double take and said, “I can't believe she'd talk about her own daughter like that. Who's the unlucky groom?” Yvette said, “You've met Sasha a few times. She didn't get her own home design show by being sweet and fading into the woodwork. I'm glad I don't work for her directly but only sell her my artwork. She has a hard edge and I imagine Penelope is just like her.” Yvette peeled open a honey granola bar, snapped it in half and offered the larger piece to a willing Jack. She continued, “It's better to have something in your stomach if you plan on drinking. I know even less about the groom but his name is Claude and I think he has something to do with security systems and heard he works hard like a dog. Who knows? Perhaps Sasha or one of her wealthy guests might be interested in buying some of your antiques. Maybe you'll meet some interesting women and enjoy yourself even if you're determined not to.” Jack said, “ If I have to charm everyone, I need some sleep.” He looked at the GPS on the dashboard and saw that Sasha's home on Lake George was forty minutes away. “Wake me when we're almost there.” He closed his eyes and nodded off right away. Yvette looked at her sleeping brother and hoped he'd be in a good mood when he woke up. She put on some Beethoven and washed down her granola bar with water from her Stanley cup as they made their way north. When they reached their exit on the Northway, Yvette pulled off and turned into the Mobil Station. After she was safely parked, she poked him gently in his slightly padded ribs and whispered, “Jack, Jack. “ Jack jumped and struggled to open his eyes. He asked in a cracked voice, “Are we there yet?” Yvette said in a gentle yet hesitant voice, “Almost. I have to tell you something first.” Jack sat straight up and stared at his sister. He knew her too well. This tone usually meant news he wouldn’t want to hear. “Out with it,” he said. Yvette took a deep breath and said, “We’re going to a dog wedding.” Jack looked at her with disbelief, trying to make sense of what his ears heard. “A dog WHAT?” Yvette nodded and talked quickly, trying to explain and prevent Jack’s words from bubbling up and spilling from his mouth. She said in one long run-on sentence without stopping, “Sasha’s dog Penelope and her friend Linda's dog Claude are getting married because Sasha wants a prospective show dog puppy and Linda insists on a ceremony before they're bred and Sasha promised Linda that I would paint their wedding portrait and Roger first said he’d go but then changed his mind and I get emotional at weddings and need moral support so I begged you to go but didn't dare tell you that it was a wedding for dogs because I knew you'd say “no” so I waited until we were almost here and hoped you wouldn't want to do a 180 and be mad at me for not telling you all this last night.” Yvette gasped for air and took a sip from Stanley as she awaited Jack's reaction with trepidation. Jack shook his head sideways and slapped the side of his face, unsure what amazed him more-the rapidity of Yvette's speech or the content of what she was saying. He winced, squinted and focused his brainpower, preparing for how he would respond. He sighed and said, “Okay, with conditions.” Yvette nodded her head and waited for Jack. He said,” Number one, expect that I'll be drinking heavily and you'll be responsible for getting me in the truck. Number two, we'll leave as early as possible, maybe to the point of rudeness. Number three, never mention it to anyone, except Roger. I assume your husband was, let's say, a little reluctant to attend a dog wedding?” Yvette said, “ Yeah, the more I told him about it, the madder he got because he thought it was the dumbest thing he ever heard and such a waste of money. He was truly disgusted.” Jack said, “ I completely agree but my tolerance level is much better than his. The bright side is that attending a dog wedding will be item number 5000 on my bucket list. You owe me big time.” Yvette replied, “You're the best. One more thing. Please don't let on to anyone that you think this is stupid. I don't want to offend Sasha, Linda or any potential clients. Okay?” Jack gave Yvette a solemn salute as she started the Ford and drove the short distance to Sasha's house. Sasha's spacious log home was situated on a hill nestled amongst fragrant pine trees located at the end of a private drive. An attendant directed them to park on the side of the road at the end of a long chain of cars. He pointed at the path by the house and told them to follow it to the lake, where the ceremony would be held. Jack and Yvette drank in the cool refreshing air of the forest as they made their descent. He managed a low whistle as they passed by the magnificent hundred year old structure. He said, “I wish we could see the inside. She must make a ton of money hosting that show.’ Yvette said, “She came from wealth. This camp has been in her family for years.” Their attention was drawn from the home to the wedding venue located on the huge sandy beach on the edge of the lake. On the left side was a large pavilion decorated with a circus theme. On the right was a chuppah, a beautiful open tent with no sides. The top was a deep rich blue velvet and the poles were decorated with strands of dyed blue daisies to match. The one-hundred or so folding chairs for the two-legged guests were the same shade as the flowers. Most of them were already filled, as Yvette and Jack had been running late. They claimed two on the delegated bride side near the back and Yvette set her purse down on one. She proceeded to wander around with her digital camera and snap photos that could provide the background for her dog portraits while Jack observed the scene with a jaundiced eye. There was a gentle breeze that rippled the water and tempered the hot August day. The Adirondack Mountains provided additional eye candy to the picturesque lake. A postcard wouldn't do it justice. The sublime was spoiled by the ridiculous. A tuxedoed employee was picking up dog poop from the four legged guests with a beribboned scooper. “You couldn't pay me enough,” Jack thought. Jack gazed at the mostly female guests, many with their own dogs seated on their laps. It seemed that the owners had put at least as much effort into the outfits of their dogs as their own. A bulldog was dressed as a sailor and a greyhound had on a rabbit suit. The dog and owner seated to his left were wearing matching pink dresses. The barking and yapping irritated Jack and the constant primping by their handlers was even worse. Jack mused, “I'm sure Roger wasn't alone in finding an excuse.” Yvette slid into the seat next to him and said,“The ceremony is about to start!” She had a glass of champagne in each hand and offered one to Jack. He grabbed both and chugged them down. The mother of the groom, Linda, walked up the aisle with Claude, her black poodle. They were dressed in matching white tuxes. Claude took an interest in a fawn pug dressed in a purple tutu in the front row and Linda had to tug on his leash to refocus his attention. This caused an appreciative laugh from the crowd. Penelope, dressed in a white lace gown complete with veil, was led to the chuppah by Sasha. Jack was focused on the ceremony in spite of himself and was startled by the sudden loud sobbing next to him. He had forgotten how Yvette got so emotional at weddings. She had been a bridesmaid at his own nuptials and fainted dead away during the exchange of rings. The audience all turned and looked at them and he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. The woman in pink reached over and handed her a kleenex. The wedding proceeded with Reverend Paul from Linda's church officiating over the affair. Everyone bowed their heads when he offered a blessing for all in attendance. Linda and Sasha each shared stories of how they first met their dogs in puppy hood and regaled amusing anecdotes of their misbehaviors. Jack was charmed by their stories. The Reverend said the ceremony was being formalized for the purpose of procreation of puppies. He read the vows, which included loyalty, unleashed love and living in the moment. Penelope and Claude each barked their “I do” and took a drink from the Gorham silver bowl the Reverend set down for them. Linda inked their right front paws and pressed them down on the wedding certificate. The applause was thunderous and Yvette wasn't the only one overcome with emotion. Jack whispered in Yvette's ear, “Can we go now?” Yvette said, “My work is just starting. I need to take pictures of the happy couple so I can paint their portraits later. Go in the tent and grab some food.” Jack joined the assembled crowd and found Yvette's name assigned to doghouse number eight. He grabbed two glasses of champagne from the passing waiter, found the table and gulped the bubbly down. The tablecloth was decorated in a Shih-Tzu design and he read about their royal history on the placard. He was feeling a little looser and saying “Shih-Tzu “several times amused him greatly. He took several cookies shaped like bones decorated with icing from the bowl on the table and wolfed them down. He received a tap on the shoulder from the person sitting at the table behind him. Jack whipped around and saw the woman who poked him. Her dancing blue eyes lit up her otherwise plain face and her laugh was contagious. She had a tricolor King Charles Cavalier Spaniel on her lap and she said, “I hope you realize those are dog cookies.” Jack thought for a minute, deciding how to reply. Going for shock value was a tried and tested strategy. He reached for two more and offered her one, crunching the other loudly in his mouth. She laughed even harder and Jack liked her immediately. She said, “I'm Ruth and this is Lulu,” pointing at her Spaniel. Jack asked, “ Did you say your name is Ruff, Ruff?, “ while barking like a dog. Sometimes Jack's humor backfired on him, but in this case it did not. Ruth was charmed yet again and they made their way over to the buffet table, loaded with a vast array of delicacies Jack didn't recognize. He held Lulu for Ruth as she filled her plate, and then returned and sat down next to her with his. Yvette returned briefly and introductions were made. Yvette was busy with her photography and making the rounds, hoping to drum up extra business and build clientele. She was content to graze from the buffet. Jack was enjoying himself and forgot his original loathing of the situation. He applauded when a Jack Russell barked his wedding toast to the happy couple. He and Ruth shared their slices of wedding cake with Lulu. They laughed hysterically when the greyhound in the bunny suit danced with her owner on her hind legs. Yvette was delighted that Jack seemed to be enjoying himself and held Lulu while they watched a border collie catch a flowered Frisbee in his teeth while jumping off the dock. As they watched the setting sun cast pools of light on the lake, Ruth asked Jack, “ How do you feel about dog weddings?” Jack was kicking himself that he hadn't asked her that question first. He didn't know how to respond. He looked over at Yvette, but she was too far away and hadn't heard the question. His marriage had ended, mostly because he and his wife had grown apart because they didn't share the same interests. He was more honest and particular about those things now in relationships. He looked her in the eye and said, “ I think they're pretty stupid.” Ruth said, “I'm Linda's niece and I helped plan this ceremony.” Without another word, she stomped off, retrieved Lulu from Yvette and made her way back to the party. Yvette was livid when she found out what Jack said to Ruth. “I didn't know she was Linda's niece either, but asked you not to let on how you felt to anyone. This is a bunch of crazy, eccentric people with money. They treat their dogs like people.” It was a quiet ride home, but Yvette calmed down by the time they reached exit 8 of the Northway. She said, “I was wrong to drag you there without being honest. Maybe Ruth won't tell Sasha or Linda that my brother insulted their wedding plans or they won't care.” When she dropped him off, her sense of humor was restored and said, “If you're hung over, have some of the hair of the dog that bit you.” Jack was tempted to call her a bitch, but didn't want to risk her anger again. A week later, Yvette texted him a phone number without a message. Jack texted back and asked, “Whose number is this?” Yvette replied, “Linda gave Ruth my number and Ruth called me. She apologized about getting angry and asked if you liked dogs but only hated weird ceremonies. I told her that was the case and you enjoyed her company when you were prepared to have a rotten time. You are no longer in the doghouse. The ball is in your court.” Jack considered, then clicked on Ruth's number and waited for a response.


This was such a bad idea. what was I thinking, she hissed quietly, as to not disturb the forest life with human sounds. Although it was useless to try to make as little sound as she could, this forest had ears everywhere, and even the soft green moss would not cover her loud running steps, never give her any cover. Nature was against her, and the sooner she realized that the better. She could trust no one but herself. Amarantha would find shelter with or without nature's help. She had to. she continued walking through the trees. she needed to find shelter before sunset, and the sky was fading into a soft glowing pink, telling her dusk was almost here. in the distance, she could see the small silhouette of a dilapidated building. Approaching the steps leading up to the house, despite it being old and broken, she felt like all she had been through had led her here. The girl could tell it was old, it looked as though it had stood there, in solitude for more than a few decades. But she could see herself in it. this would be her home. she could find shelter in it, away from all the bad in the world. 6 years later and it was perfect, the house seemed rejuvenated, new, even if the world was still in ruins. The house had an aura of happiness and love, it was the ideal place to live in. With it being secluded, in the darkest and deepest part of the forest, no one could bother her. Or hurt her, as many had done in the past. she was still stuck inside it though.it was also her jail. she could never leave. she was supposed to live in the place that had saved her once so long ago, wasn't she? she pondered the question, absently running her hands through the hair that had grown past her waist. The hair that was adorned with flowers of all kinds. There was just one thing that worried her about living here. all the flowery gifts left at the foot of her bed every night, left for her to find in her morning haze. she never knew where they came from. Even if she had lived there for six years and searched through every nook and cranny, she still had not found the source of those beautiful gifts. Every night she tried staying awake, trying to find the person who had helped her overcome the darkness when she had first arrived, but it was useless. There was always that stench of magic in the air, a metallic taste left in her mouth when waiting for the intruder on her bed. It lulled her to sleep, and she wouldn’t wake up until the next morning. Amarantha stopped by the kitchen counter, it was full of the gifts the stranger had given her. She sighed through her nose, her nostrils flaring in annoyance, why couldn’t she find out who was the kind soul who gave her these beautiful offerings. Maybe it was a fae beast who showered her with love. But then that was impossible since they all had hearts of stone. Maybe a small pixie, full of light, who knew exactly how to cheer her up. Well whoever it was, they had a special place in heaven. Thank y - her silent grateful thought was interrupted by a slight tremor that shook the house; it’s very foundation. The sound was similar to one made by someone who slammed against a wall, with enough force for it to be felt all throughout the house. But she lived alone. No one else knew where she lived. And the front door was right behind her, she would've heard or seen someone coming in the house. Besides, she made sure to set traps at every corner of the house so she would be alerted the minute an intruder set foot inside her home. She pressed her back against the kitchen counter, noisy gasps leaving her mouth. This can’t be happening. A black wave of anxiety was rising for the dark pits of her soul threatening to consume her from the inside out. her eyes were lined with silver, she tried pushing the unwelcome tears back into the depths where they came from. As the tremor finished resonating through the walls she was once again transported to a time she tried so hard to forget. The place she had run from so long ago, trying to heal her pathetic soul. There was a loud bang coming from her parents room, she could feel the sound bouncing from wall to wall. Her curiosity got the best of her and she stalked closer to the door which was hiding something that would leave her broken for the rest of her life. Throwing caution to the wind she crossed the doors threshold, toward her father. Her father, her glorious father who had once made her laugh with so much glee, lifting her up toward the sun, was lying in a pool of his own blood. Her shriek shattered the ominous silence, “dad, oh no, DAD!” choking back a sob she reached for him, folding her arms around his dead body. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, her neck and into her dad's hair. She stayed in the same position, cradling his dead body until it wasn’t warm anymore. Not giving a thought to who had killed him, they could also kill her for all she cared, she just wanted to be put out of her misery. Blood drenched her fingers as she finally peeled herself away from the corpse. Then she ran. Ran away from the pain, from home, from the rotting corpse. And from a damaged world, which was crumbling from neglect. She headed for the forest. Somewhere where no other humans would find her. She was safe once and for all. To protect her broken heart from shattering any further she ran as far as she could, finding this house in need of rescuing her, and the house gave her something in return, it healed her back. That thought brought her back to the future. There was a faint ringing in her ears as she stood up from the place she had curled up in, using the kitchen counter to steady her. Foolishness was guiding her steps, leading her to where she thought the sound might have come from. Slowly walking toward the wall beside the kitchen counter she felt a sense of righteousness, as if this was the path she had to go down to find the gold at the end of the rainbow. Grabbing the gun laid beside her she pushed her hand against the wall, not expecting anything to happen. There was a slight click and hiss and a handle popped out of the wall. There, inside a wall, was a door underneath the cement. Tentatively she turned the handle and pushed with all her strength forward, it actually opened, so Amarantha stepped forward with a confidence she didn't feel. The door closed and locked behind her. Panic rose up from within her threatening to consume her, suddenly a shadow moved in the corner of her eye. She pointed the gun towards it and shot it. Not caring what or who it hit. Light started emanating from torches lining the wall, and she could see there was a large passage leading into darkness. Then it dawned on her, it's a secret passage, there was a secret passage inside her cottage in the woods. There had to be magic involved in this, secret doors just don’t appear inside a wall. She ran a hand down the musty walls, it was lined with green ivy strands. There were wilted flowers here and there, like someone tried to bring life to this dead place a long time ago. Walking without shoes in there she could feel tiny pieces of glass, something similar to shattered window glass, but it’s a catacomb, why would there be windows here? Amarantha mused quietly. Feeling watched she turned slowly, shame coloring her cheeks for being so careless, she shot something and didn’t bother to check what or who it was. There was someone watching her from the shadows, only gray eyes were visible. She stepped closer to get a better look and heard a gasp leave her mouth. With the dim light of the torches she could see the beautiful gray eyes belonging to a man, his pale skin was glistening with sweat, his face was contorted in pain. his grey eyes darkened to the color of rain clouds, clearly showing just how much pain he was in. Pain she has inflicted on him. He frowned, leaning against the wall breathing heavily, clutching his side. She could swear she saw his lips twitch as if suppressing a smile, There was blood running from through the fingers holding his side, “so... slight problem” the words left his mouth before his legs gave out and he collapsed. History was repeating itself, but instead of an unknown presence killing someone she loved, she was going to kill someone if she didn’t do something. “I’m sorry” Amarantha whispered, her voice cracking while tears pooled once again in her eyes. She crouched by his side, feeling the need to touch him. Bringing him closer, she stood up and tried dragging the boy's warm body behind her. She continued into the darkness, feeling the wall every so often when pausing to rest, trying to feel for an opening, another place where she could take the nameless boy and patch him up. They finally reached a gargantuan room, similar to a ballroom for that matter, it was filled with ancient tombstones. She couldn’t see her feet, as there was too much fog on the ground. She neared a coffin shaped stone and rolled the boy onto it. Ripping her shirt, she made some instant bandages to stop the blood flow. Large tears cascaded down her cheeks, a familiar sense of sorrow growing inside her. Then she heard a muffled thud. She looked down at him but saw nothing that could have made the sound. The boy groaned, his eyes flickering behind his eyelids, then gray eyes were staring up at her, longing etched into his perfect features. Too perfect. What manner of creature is he? He snatched something from his side, it was the bullet that had injured him. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, “is this the way to treat the person who helped you throughout your time living here? Showering you with gifts left and right?” Bewitched by his beauty she muttered her apologies under her breath. This was the man that had pulled her off the edge facing the precipice, and this was how she repaid him. He had left all of those gifts for her to find, knowing she needed the reassurance that someone still cared about her. He looked at her with a grin on his face, “I’m Jack, pleased to meet you Amarantha. I had been hoping you’d find me, that had been my wish for a long time. And now that you’re finally here I can tell that you are very confused. Well if you must know I am a forest faerie. I was charged with protecting you until I believed you were ready to assume your spot as fae. Protecting this house.” Jack stood up as if nothing had happened, regarding her with palpable wariness, he probably didn’t want to startle her. Amarantha was taken aback by his offhand comment about becoming fae, not knowing how to react she stepped back, gaping at him. Is this what this underground passage was? A turning place, from human to fae? “This passageway leads to the river in the heart of the woods, there is where you will be turned. You will become the helping hand of this enchanted house, and you will be my partner.” he took notice that she had stepped further away from him, making her body be flush against the wall. Jack stepped closer to her, but she slapped him before he could say anything. Jack grabbed her arm and pushed her further into the wall, stooping low to whisper in her ear, “I suggest you don’t try that again.” Her heart stumbled and her breath hitched in her throat. “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t. This is just a lot to take in.” she held out her hand for jack to take and lead her to the turning place. The house had given her so much she had to give something back in return. Besides, becoming a fae wasn’t so bad if she could stay with Jack. Once inside the passage she looked behind her, silently thanking the house for it’s help, it was the last time her human eyes would see it, even if there was only darkness and concrete where the door once was. Jack led her forward, pulling her hand, grinning like a little boy. Then the smell of stale air started to lighten, fresh air once again penetrating the darkness. She closed her eyes for a split second, feeling the moss under her feet as they were once again surrounded by trees. She continued forward, her hand still enveloped by jacks. Jack pushed her into the river in front of them without warning, then jumped in after her. He grasped her shoulders and said with a smirk on his face, “are you ready to be turned?” Amarantha nodded slowly, wondering how it was going to happen and how she was going to feel. Jack pushed her under the water, not giving her time to hold her breath. She started thrashing and flailing her limbs under the water, oxygen being consumed by her body until there was none left. It was too painful not to take a breath. So she did. She opened her mouth and let the water in. Her life started flashing before her eyes just like everyone predicted. The death of her dad was the one that hurt the most. Her eyes turned glassy as the water filled her lungs. This was it, she was going to fade away into nothing, no one to remember her. But then she didn’t, the water passing through her lungs was a welcome feeling, it made her feel stronger, invincible. It was done, she was turned. And she felt amazing. It was a feeling like nothing before, she could feel the life of everything in the wood, she could sense everything that was going on under the grass. Her eyesight was crystal clear, she could see far away, and she could hear the sound of the birds chirping , the willow trees singing. Amarantha stepped out of the water, onto the moss covered grass, under the cover of the willow branches, which were letting barely any sunlight in. gesturing to Jack so lay beside her, she laid down her head, a sense of euphoria filling her. Jack looked down at her with his signature grin, “the house isn’t your prison Amarantha, it’s your friend, contrary to what you might believe. It listens to you and your needs, even when you were a human, but now that you're fae it will provide anything you need. It’s your turn to give back, you will help whatever despaired owner comes to reside here.” Amarantha nodded sleepy, closing her eyes as the song of the willow lulled her to sleep. This time, when she closed her eyes she wasn’t worried about the future or what was to come, but rather she was thankful that Jack had found her and helped her and now she had a chance to help someone else too. Finally she fell asleep with calm and thankful thoughts under the canopy of leaves. The branches swaying in the


Nefelibata, the land of the blindness. That's where we live, you only see the world as black and gray. That is until you meet your Saudade. Saudade means feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgic, but here in Nefelibata it basically means soulmate. In other words, your color undressor. As soon as you see the face of your Saudade, you’ll be able to see the world with color. As you can see, I’m not interested in meeting my Saudade. I mean, relying on someone else for the simple reason of seeing colors is absurd. I’m taking initiative in learning the colors of the world since I’m going to an all boys high school. There’s no way in a million years that I’ll find my Saudade there! Yes, I should’ve gone to a public school but I didn’t want to deal with the Orates. Orates are people who have found their Saudade and bully others for the stupid reason that they can’t see colors. I’m a Junior and so is Mikolouh. Miko, he’s my only friend. He’s a short, energetic, talkative boy. He’s been my friend since elementary school. No one can pull us apart, even if they tried. Next year, I’ll be in my last year of high school and I haven’t found my Saudade yet. I’m miserable. My mother left me when I was 4. The only thing I remember from her is that she always wore a bow on her hair. I still have the photo of her with the beautiful bow on her. The only reason I want to meet my Saudade is so I can see what color her bow was. Maybe I’ll be able to find her. “The sky is blue. The water is dark blue. Flowers have a variety of appealing colors. The grass is green. The sky is blue. The water is dark blue. Flowers- flowers have.. AGH!” I throw my index cards on the floor with rage. “I- Ian! It’s ok! You don't have to remember the colors of the world. I don’t know why you can’t just wait until you meet your Saudade...” Says my friend, Mikolouh. “Oh shut it, Miko.” I say jokingly. “Hey, did you hear? We’re getting a new student in our English class tomorrow. I heard that he always wears a black mask to cover his mouth.” Miko says. “Hm? That's weird. Wouldn't you be hot wearing a mask all day?” I say with a confused look on my face. “You’re right. Well, I guess we’ll ask him tomorrow!” “Jesus Miko. You’re always full of energy, huh?” I start to laugh at his expression. It’s the next day already. Miko stayed over since it was too dark for him to walk home. I wake Miko up with a push and I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get changed. By the time we’re done eating breakfast, it’s 7:15. School starts at 7:30. We make our way to my car and we leave in a breeze. It’s warm outside today. I feel a spark inside of me light up and I can tell today is going to be a good day. Is this what people call a “gut feeling?” We arrive at the school at 7:34 and we make our way to our first hour. Miko and I have all different classes except for 3rd hour and 6th hour which are English and Gym. Our first hours pass by fast and now It’s English. I see Miko saving a seat for me with the biggest smile on his face. He’s always so eager to see me. “Hey, how were your first two hours?” I say as I sit down next to Miko. “Horrible!!” Miko whines. “My teacher made us actually do work! Can you believe it?!” I start laughing at Miko’s whining as he grabs me by the collar of my shirt and shakes me. I put my hands next to my face as if I’m getting arrested and I laugh even more. He stops so suddenly that my laugh slowly fades away. He’s still holding on tightly to the collar of my shirt. It’s like he’s glued to my shirt. I look at him with a smile still on my face and I ask him what’s wrong. He looks at me, his face is so red that roses and ladybugs can't even compare to him. It seems like he’s trying to say something but nothing comes out. He was close, too close for my liking. When I tell you I was more confused than Patrick from Spongebob. To me, it seemed like he had a fever. I touched his forehead and It was hot. In fact, his whole face was hot but he showed no other symptoms for a fever. Then, the teacher walked in and he finally let go of my shirt and sat back down in his seat. “Miko..? If you don’t feel well you should go home.” “Ahhh, I feel great! Don’t worry, buddy!” Miko says as he smiles at me and throws a thumbs up. It wasn’t real. That smile... he’s hiding something. “Good afternoon students. Today we have a new student coming in. Please do your best to make him feel welcomed. Elijah, you can come in now.” The teacher says as he opens the door for Elijah. We all shift our heads to the door. A tall boy with black hair and a black mask walks in. “Please introduce yourself to the class, Elijah.” Elijah looks around until his eyes meet with mine. “My name’s Elijah. Please refrain from calling me Eli or any other nickname. Only my lover can call me that.” He finally stops looking at me and he goes to his seat. His eyes never left mine the whole time he introduced himself. I tried to look away but I could still feel him staring at me. It was kind of creepy. He didn’t even crack a smile! He’s practically eating me alive. You can tell he’s cold by the way he talked. His posture said it all too. He slouched the whole time and once he sat down, he slid all the way down with his shoulders touching the back of the seat. Who does he think he is? I know his type. If this were a public school with girls in it, he'd be flirting with them all over the place. I just know that he’s annoying. Miko and I should stay away from him. “Miko I don't think we should hang out with-” I stop with shockness in my eyes. I couldn’t even finish my sentence since Miko’s already walking up to Elijah. I sigh in disbelief and I put my head down to my desk. Miko’s amazing at making friends so I’m sure he’s gonna end up making Elijah his friend. “No, no, no, no, no!” I think to myself. Miko’s my only friend meaning that I’ll be forced to hang out with Elijah too. I feel someone patting my head. I automatically think It’s Miko. His touch is oddly comforting right now. I think “thank god Miko’s finally done talking to that stupid know-it-all Elijah.” I lifted my head from my desk and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Elijah. I stand up quickly and I look around for Miko. He’s nowhere to be found. I look back at Elijah. He has a mask on but I can see his smirk. His hand is still on my head. He slides it down to my cheek. I then snap back into reality and I push him off. “W-where’s Miko?” I stuttered. “Down in the cafeteria. I told him that I wanted something sweet and he rushed down there like a dog.” Elijah’s eyes shifted from the floor to my eyes. “He didn’t know I was referring to you when I said I wanted something sweet.” I look at him in shock. I know he’s just teasing me. He probably knows that I don’t like him. That’s a good thing, right? Maybe he’ll stay away from me. I mean, I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with someone who I know thinks I'm annoying. I roll my eyes and I sit back down on my chair. I went back to the position I was in before he came to annoy me. I rest my face on my arms. I’ve got to be honest. What he said got me a little flustered. But that’d happen to anyone! I can feel Elijah’s presence and I motion to him to go away. He sits on top of my desk and asks “Hm? Did I do something wrong, Ian?” I can feel the smirk rising up on his face. I lift my head from my arms and I say “Go away, Elijah. I know what you’re doing. You want to be the best looking boy in our school so you’re getting to know your competition first, huh Elijah? I don’t know why you even bother If you’re just going to wear a mask all the time.” “Eli.” Elijah stops smirking and looks dead serious. His serious face is kind of petrifying. “What?” “Eli. Call me Eli.” He smirks again. “Wait but you- huh? But you said only your lover or whatever could call you that.” Eli gets the biggest smile on his face. I can tell by the squinting of his eyes and his cheeks going up. I look at him closely. You can tell that he’s really good looking. I wonder what he'd look like without a mask. “You lost in my face?” He starts laughing. “Am not! Hey, can I ask you something?” “Yes, of course you can get a kiss.” He starts making horrid kissing sounds. “What? No you idiot! I was gonna ask if I could see your face.” “My face? You sure?” Why is he asking If I’m sure. I asked for a reason. I just want to see if he’s really all that. I nod at him and he starts to slowly take off his mask. Bright. That’s all I see. Everything is bright. Where’s Elijah? Miko? Is this it? My head’s filled with questions that can’t be answered at the moment. All of a sudden I get a sharp pain on the side of my face. I hear someone in the distance calling my name. I run but I can’t find them. I call out to them, but no response. “Ian!” My eyes open. My first sight is Elijah. It looks like we’re at the nurses office. How did I get here? What even happened to me? I turn to Elijah with the most perplexed face. He laughs. Why is he laughing? “You’ve found me!” Elijah said. You've found me..?


A few weeks ago I moved into my friend’s apartment. I mentioned to my friend on a random Tuesday that “It would be cool to move into your apartment” and then I did it, kicking out his girlfriend in the process. The day went like this: “Oi it would be cool if I moved into your apartment. We could eat biscuits all day and then pretend the floor is lava,” I said. My friend was sipping his iced coffee, we were in a cafe. The cafe was surrounded by people, which is generally the case in cafes that are doing well. “That sounds mad. But I live with my girlfriend and its a one bedroom apartment. Where would you live?” I felt it was strange that he was asking such a retarded question. The answer to me was obvious. “Umm... We kick her out?” I said, my hand in a strange gollum-like pose, as if I was trying to balance a watermelon in the palm of my hand. “Oh yeah. I feel strange that I asked such a retarded question.” Later that afternoon we drove back to his apartment while listening to “How deep is your love” by the Bee Gees. Which is ironic because I don’t think my friend’s love for his girlfriend was very deep at all. Such is life. We went inside his apartment and made a bee-line straight for the room. We took all of her stuff and threw it out the window. Which is an age-old cliche that you see in movies. But cliches exist for a reason. I then wrapped myself in bedsheets and pretended I was a caterpillar and crawled around the floor while giggling and yelling “I am caterpillar.” My friend did the same. Later she came home and got pretty angry. “Why is my stuff all thrown outside?” she screamed. She was visibly upset. Like how Marat Safin used to get upset when he made unforced errors at Wimbledon, it was more rage than sorrow. I was still wrapped in bedsheets and was sprawled out on the bed. However, I was no longer pretending to be a caterpillar but was now a cocoon. “Shhhh... Quiet, he’s metamorphosing.” said my friend. She didn’t seem to understand what was going on and continued to complain and pull her own hair. She looked like that famous Edward Munch painting of the screaming dude, except her hair was long and she was female. And you could actually hear the screams. I suddenly stood up and fashioned the bed sheets around me, one end of the bedsheets in each hand respectively and began to flap my arms. “I am the butterfly of doom!” I yelled. She shrieked as I chased her around the apartment and finally out the door. “That was funny,” my friend laughed, “Yes it was. That’s why you are a laughing.” I explained. “Come on now, lets eat biscuits and pretend the floor is lava,” I said. Strangely enough, we didn’t hear from her again. Which kind of sucks because I was always fond of her. If she ever reads this I hope she knows she’s always welcome to visit.


Moonlight. It shone an icy-silver layer of velvet over absolutely everything, bleaching out all distinct shape and colour and light from life until it appeared effectively as a clinical, slumbering world. Morbidly surreal in its new flatness, illusions conjured out of the darkest depths of the unknown mind, flesh abandoned nature, turning to polished stone and gravel until they lost their viscosity, becoming pools of mirrors laid flat against the palm of emptiness. Silence descended upon the edge of abyss, ensconcing the guarded area inside in a spherical atmosphere of an almost sacred reverence - not even the shadows of the night dared to desecrate, nor did the napalm stars above. There was a certain sort of sterility to this place of night, fake marble, and shaded sterling, that made the echoing voicelessness simultaneously fragile and calcified all at once. The bone-white tableaus, gleaming side walls of the structure shimmered in contrast to the waking moments of twilight - shades and smears of dark pressed against light, both illuminated by the reflection of the moon and hidden within the grasp of a layer of expertly twisted emptiness. The lack of life echoed throughout, stern and unforgiving. No night bird twitched, nor did any footsteps crackle against the ground. No breath stolen away at midnight. No manner of comfort, nor was there any hide or tail or hair of any movement. Just complete and absolute stillness. Perhaps it was this absence of humanity that venerated and raised the precious grounds far into the heavens; ethereal and pale in its terrifying beauty. Like a raging storm, it was devastatingly consuming. Like a raging storm, there was a moment of calm before it shattered. The air regained its charge from among a lifeless sea of burnt-out candle husks. It moved tentatively at first, the gentle whisper of wind, before confidence strengthened its bones and banished all doubt. It gathered in ferocity and power, raw and sparked the slightest bouts of a feeling that is both unnamed and universal; fear and awe entangled in one melding mass, unable to tell where each one began. Because, above all, it was simply not human. An important distinction, it was. When people placed something so seemingly otherworldly upon a pedestal of terror and awe, it is usually for a good reason - it’s instinct that brings forth the fear of the unknown, as well abrupt knowledge that the strongest predator in the room is no longer themselves. To bow before the greater being; humanity’s most precious gift and curse. There’s a second in between, with that gut-wrenching, stomach-churning pull, that cements in this realisation. The fabric of the natural world is seen all around. The seams and stitches of the supernatural are not. Inside, housed inside the thousands of rows of ancient rowan and ash trees - branches, planks and platforms, all of which were the spindly limbs and reaching arms of the creature nestled in between its cradle of parchment and paper and quiet passion - the stacks of books glimmered pale; a mimicry of the fair moon so high above. Spines pressed against each other, hard and soft, worn and new. Unless one picked up a book and opened its pages, not a soul would bear witness to the fleeing footsteps of a million words so lovingly scrawled. This is our design, the unspoken words seem to say. Like the art of children, it was more than just colour, air, flesh and light. It was the handprints of a thousand authors all at once laid out for the world to take delight in; separate and indistinguishable together, imbued with passion and a rare strength that displays with a flourish the best of humanity. Quiet beauty, and icy steel, co-existing side-by-side. The redemption that the people so desperately needed - to know that there is in them the ability to create, as well as to destroy. To wield the weapon or have the courage to lay it down. The books may have been the flesh, but the people who cared its living blood. The care and love so painstakingly poured out, forged from the purest parts of the heart, pumped through the heart of the structure. It gave the library clarity, gave it a semblance of peace and breathed life into stale stone and inanimate things. It was an intrinsic pattern, threads tying together a board of pins - like a spider’s web strengthening every fibre crafted until there was a core of steel and unshakeable knowledge seeping into every pore that it was surely unbreakable. Sticks and stones may snap or crack, but not a cavern system of bound and woven ties welding everything together. The paper cut-outs that the children hung in a corner gazed back at the scattered decor of the reception desk with bright smiles that rivalled the sun. It’s alright, they say. We’re not perfect, but that doesn’t matter. The clocks click silently from the walls, hung above their perch like a stern parent or all-seeing teacher. Behave , they say wearily, but there’s unmistakable fondness in their shifting face. There’s silence, but there’s also life now. It’s a music that cannot be heard - a soft, whispering cadence that envelopes the room in feathery touch. It glides down, pressing kisses to the air, leaping off polished banisters and embracing everything in its strangely intense warmth. The rhythm of it soars, dips, sways and waltzes throughout - a chaotic plethora of noiseless happenings simultaneously existing all at once. It’s in a thousand wordless conversations, as well as the deep understanding of a kinship that binds all things inside that mysterious, curious space. We’re here, they seem to say. The murder mystery book clings onto the hug of its sibling, a thriller of some sort. They discuss blood splatters, and murder weapons and motives amidst conversations of how, ah, creative humans could be when provoked. Beside them, the book with that antagonist that was a killer dentist who used dental polymers to murder sighs as the other two chuckle once more at it’s ridiculous plight. At least, it growls, I didn’t use a brick . Two rows behind, another crime book glowers at that. The gardening book exchanges ideas with the crochet one. Art runs in their ink, after all, and one must always strive to be the best that they can. Crochet plants, the yarn book chirps happily. Put the plants in crochet holders , the gardening book counter-argues. Several rows in front, Thomas Harris’s Hannibal Lecter looks around, and contemplates the best way to consume its fellow paper. *** The library hums a song beneath its breath, as the first rays of dawn began to peak. You cannot see us , it sings, an orchestration of carbon and light filtering through, but we’re still here.


It is a hot day in this dusty grey city. Abe and the rest of the demolition team created much of the dust by tearing down this derelict old building. Long ago, it was considered a trendy boutique hotel. This area of the city was once a favoured place of bohemian artists, writers, intellectuals, and their hangers-on. It was a kind of Soho wannabe. In the forties and fifties, you would see the fashionably shabby elite taking coffee or wine at the sidewalk cafes and bars, discussing weighty subjects with self-serious smugness, talking a little too loud with contrived transatlantic accents, cigarettes in long holders held in stylishly limp hands waving around to accent a particularly insightful point. They loved art or what they considered art; the more outrageous, somber and disturbing, the better. They didn't smile much, preferring disdain and intelligent contempt. But time passed. They outgrew themselves and most conformed, after all, married, had children, got reliable jobs and saved for retirement. The few die-hards that didn't leave developed liver and lung problems and became shabby for real-it was no longer a fashion statement. The hotel became dingy as well. Room prices lowered and then lowered again, and it began to attract the low-income, the addicted, and other ne'er do wells. And now it is condemned. It is being torn down along with the other derelict buildings in the area and will be home to industrial warehouses, scattered with a few coffee shops and fast-food restaurants to cater to the employees these warehouses will require. Abe has worked for this demolition company for the better part of two years. The money is not great, but not too bad either. It is enough to pay his share of the rent on the dark, dank basement suite he shares with his roommate. He is 40 years old, has a middle-age gut, is losing his hair, and he doesn't care. He quit caring about anything much a few years back. A sad story, boring in its commonness, and certainly nothing remarkable about it: his wife left him. She didn't mind about the gut and the hair, but she did mind his pot use. He is more than a daily user. He is more like an hourly user. The old wake and bake and carry right on until he (thankful) drops into oblivion every night. The pot that brings him such relief has stolen everything, and he doesn't care. The smash and crash of the wrecking ball have come and gone, and now it is down to the details. He uses a jackhammer to clean up bits and pieces of stubborn concrete, and then he sweeps up the mess. The acrid dust of the concrete flies in his face, but he uses a bandana to protect his lungs. Kind of a waste of time given the state of his lungs from his constant toking, but he doesn't care. The boss hollers for the crew to take their morning coffee break, and that is his signal to find some out-of-the-way spot to top himself up with a reefer. The boss and the others know where he is going and what he is doing but look the other way as this city's labour shortage is brutal. They need every man they can get, even the stoners. Break over, he goes back to sweeping, nicely buzzed, when his broom hits something. Something soft. Small. He reaches down to grab it and shake the dust off it, and it looks like a rag doll. He turns it over to look at its face and drops it in horror. The doll has mismatched button eyes and a wide, evil clown-type grin, and its mouth is full of teeth...real teeth! Human teeth. Perfect white adult human teeth, far too big for the small doll's head. The teeth are not in the proper order. There are incisors where the front teeth should be, next to them the molars and then the front teeth. "What the fuck?" he mumbles under his breath. He picks up the creepy doll and pulls back the cottony lips to see how the teeth are fastened. They are held in place by wire, wire now rusty with age, but wire. Someone has drilled holes into the top of the teeth, sewn them in the fabric with the wire, and then covered the whole mess with puffy red cotton lips. The doll's body feels full of something hard and small, crunchy, like pebbles. There is a small split down the side seam of one of its legs, and he pulls it closer to see what is inside. Teeth. More teeth. The damn thing is stuffed with teeth! Baby teeth, adult teeth, some rotten and worn, broken or with huge cavities, others pristine. Why teeth? And were in God's name would someone get all those teeth? The boss hollers at him to get back to work, so he takes the gruesome thing, tucks it in his backpack, and returns to work. He is rather glad to have something for his fuzzy mind to puzzle over while he does this mindless task. When he gets home, he takes out the hoary doll, shakes it to remove the last of the dust and has a good long look. What is this thing? He lights a joint and turns on his old laptop. He doesn't use this computer for much other than watching porn and playing internet poker, but now he types into the google search bar "doll with real human teeth." There are results for dolls with teeth (not actual and not creepy) used by dentists as a teaching tool for children. There is an article about a doll's head made from a coconut shell with real teeth set into drilled holes. This was found in the Florida Everglades, and archaeologists think it was a voodoo doll from the early seventeen hundreds. And then- bingo! There is an article from a site called WikiArt about an artist who lived in this very city, in the same hotel they are now demolishing. Jauna Dell Mortem. That was her real name, but she would only answer to Faer ie . Not Fairy mind, but Faer ie with the accent on the last syllable. She lived there for a while when the hotel was in its hay day. She was an eccentric androgynous type before it was cool to be eccentric and androgynous. She never cut her hair, seldom combed or washed it, wore men's fedora hats and ratty hand-me-down coveralls. She rarely wore shoes of any sort, even in cold weather. She was briefly but intensely popular for creating macabre pieces made from genuine human parts and pieces. She made a piece from a gnarly oak stick with human skin stretched over it and stitched together on the underside with several thick strands of long grey human hair. It was complete with an actual fingernail, manicured to a sharp dagger-like point and painted blood red. It resembled an elderly human index finger with swollen joints. She would not confirm where she got the skin from, but it was rumoured that the skin was her own, peeled from her inner thigh and then tanned. The fingernail was clearly not her own as she constantly chewed her nails down to a bloody pulp, but she kept her source a secret. The wealthy collector who bought it kept it locked under glass as the artist had hinted at its power to deliver a curse if pointed in anger at someone. On the buyer's passing, his wife donated the dreadful thing to a macabre art museum in London, and she was glad to be rid of it. It still resides there today and is still safely locked under glass. Her most famous piece was a huge painted skyscape of the city. She had used her own feces as paint, and that "paint" had unique, intricate and subtle variations in colour. How she got all these colours, she would not say but swore she added nothing to change the colour. "It is simply a matter of diet," she would say. When asked about the reddish sunset behind the skyscape, she said, "Hemorrhoids, darling." She signed only with an understated " F " on all her pieces. On the finger piece, the tiny " F " was scratched on the underside of the nail. With the feces piece, the " F " was hidden and barely decipherable in the corner of the roof of one of the buildings, a shade darker than the surrounding brown. You would think it would have a lingering smell of, well, feces, but it didn't. Instead, there would be a distinct smell of fresh cut thyme emanating from it at odd hours. There were other pieces too. The intact bones of a young child's ribcage that had been fashioned as a jail for a coiled stuffed snake, its mouth wide open to show fangs. The "jail" also had a bow made from a dried umbilical cord tied neatly on the stub at the top of the backbone. Another piece was a human testicle emptied and stretched over a baseball and tattooed with eyes that were both squinted and crossed and a crow's beak attached where the mouth should be. She had covered the top of the "head" in what looked like blond pubic hair (it was). The word "pecker" had been burnt into the skin across the "forehead." The more grisly her work, the more popular. She never advertised her art for sale or showed anything in a gallery, but word of mouth did her selling. She let the would-be buyers argue amongst themselves until the highest bidder went home proud to own a "Faer ie ." As her popularity grew, she started dropping hints that her masterpiece was soon to be revealed. She said it had taken most of her life (at this time, the guess was she was in her mid-forties) to create. When people asked the theme, she merely smiled wide and stuck her tongue through a gap in her mouth where an incisor was missing. Anticipation rose, and she received offers in the hundred thousand dollar range for this piece, sight unseen, but she would not accept. She started to refer to everyone as 'doll,' wet tongue pushing through the tooth gap. The art sleuths at the time anticipated the masterpiece to be some sort of doll with teeth. Her fans were frantic and tried to curry her favour with wildly expensive meals and drinks and offers to be her patron. She ate and drank but took no money. She was beholding to no one. When they asked her when it would be ready, she smirked and told them, "When it is done, of course." Then she disappeared. No trace of her, no goodbye, just gone. The police checked her modest apartment after the missing person report was lodged, but nothing seemed amiss. She was not there but had left behind a few of her personal possessions, although no artworks in progress, finished pieces, or tools she may have used for her creations. Eventually, her belongings were auctioned off as collector pieces for outrageously high amounts as her fame and notoriety only grew with her disappearance. To this day, there are some who are still seeking her "masterpiece ." If found, it would be reportedly worth millions. Astounded, he looks at the hideous doll and picks it up. He examines it closely, searching for an " F ." And there, under the doll's faded gingham skirt, almost hidden under the hem, is a small, sloppy " F " embroidered in black thread. Millions!! He could be holding on to millions. This ugly, disgusting find could change his life!! He imagines his life with millions. He would buy a fancy high-rise penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows and a doorman who would call him sir. It would have private underground parking where he would park a perfectly restored classic candy apple red mustang. Maybe he would get hair implants, buy the expensive pre-rolls instead of rolling his own joints, and drink "boutique" beer. He imagines the luxury of waking up and having nothing to do but watch porn, smoke pot, and play internet poker and video games. Maybe his wife will come back. He lights another doobie to celebrate. Hell, he even pops open a can of Coors.


The ship groaned as the magesteel began to expand, the vacuum of space ripping out the oxygen from the small punctures made by the alien encounter. Whatever the massive, shadowy creature was, one thing was clear: it was the end of the Einherkask. For just over a decade, the Einherkask had travelled through slipspace, using black holes for time dilation in the hopes of escaping the fate of Desmoor, of all the trillions of people in the Kalani System. The hopes of all those beings rested in the massive capital ship of a once-great fleet. But now, fate had caught up to Seto and the other survivors of the anomaly. He had enlisted at the behest of his tutor, and found that the war was drawing closer to home each day. His step-sister had enlisted just three years earlier, and as he crawled through the crew cabins searching for her desperately, he could feel the air getting thinner. It appeared that one of the tendrils that had come from the surprise attack had come clean though the hull, directly into the crew quarters. Dozens of dead men, women, and children lying on the ground, beginning to rise as the hum of the artificial gravity hushed. His own bunk was nearly untouched by the blood, but... "Nara..?" His voice was quiet as he choked through tears. There she was, frozen in place, a secondary tendril having shot clean through her heart. The tendrils began to retract as Seto dropped his head, letting out a scream, tears running down his face. His mask began to fog up as he yelled. Nara was gone, stolen from him. He would die here, broken legs and a hollow room filled with the bodies of his friends. The ship groaned again, and multiple explosions could be felt rattling the entirety of the structure. "This is Admiral Zhao to all section Commanders, the motherfucker came from slipspace, its alive, and I don't think we have enough firepower to take this thing down. The magesteel recyclers are destroyed, the engines and gone, and the larboard section of the ship was hit the hardest. To anyone still alive, take yourself and head to the Tetranova, I'm going to buy you some time." Zhao's voice over the radio was both a welcome sound, but also a dismal one. There was no chance of saving a majority of the ship, but the secondary capital ship could warp independent of the Einherkask- at the cost of the lives of anyone who remained inside. A cacophony of voices, most of which were reporting in from the starboard section, filled his head. "You know, I did try and warn the Council that I was having some strange dreams." Seto looked up, and there he was. The man in the black armor. The man who had prophesized doom to Desmoor. Giliath Osiris. He walked to the side of Seto, past him, until he was face to face with Nara. "After I unified Itr, I truly did try to warn you all of the coming dangers. All my words held great truths and proofs that the Council acknowledged, but refused to make any sort of preparations for. And so, I commissioned the Einherkask to be built. And now, Itr, is the only continent left that has a population. But they won't know that for some time. Perhaps, ever," he chuckled as he looked towards Seto. "But you and your master, you were ready." "Die," Seto muttered. "Please just die already. I've had enough of your taunting..." He looked up, tears streaming down his face still. "Did you do this to us?! Did you bring this creature here to kill us?! What sort of magic has corrupted you?! Why are we here?!" He trailed off. "Why are we here..." The once-prominent Chancellor walked back to Seto, and kneeled. "No, child, I did not bring this disaster upon you, nor the ones on Desmoor. These were inevitable events that Aidios herself warned me of. I am only a few centuries old, I am not like the supposed all-powerful Goddess." "Then why?" "Why bother with all I have done? Why bother showing up? It is because I have high hopes for you and your master..." "What hope could you possible have for us? Today, the sun sets. There will be no dawn." "... A little girl once defied me, not too long ago. I said the same words to her. And yet, she ensured that there would be a new day. She used her great magic, and her new friends were there to bring her victory. I'm sure that given the chance, you may be capable of such similar feats," Giliath said as he rose, walking towards the exit of the crew quarters, which had been ripped open by the tendrils. "However, this is where we must part ways, dear Seto. For when the rain comes, you must be strong." "When the rain comes... Yes, I'm sure... This time, you shall survive.


I was born with an anchor in my chest. It was something that I didn’t really notice right away. It was just something that was a small annoyance always pulling me down. I thought it was something everyone had. As I grew older it became heavier. It became harder to carry. One week I was so tired, I couldn’t get out of bed. My mother took me to the doctor. “Yes, the problem is that you have an anchor,” he said and gave me some pills to help me carry it. The pills helped. Sometimes I even forgot that the anchor was there, but it also felt like I was forgetting a piece of me. I kept taking the pills, though. You see, carrying an anchor all the time was exhausting. Then I met a boy. I liked him. He was me and more. I found out early on that he had an anchor as well, but life had given him his. He took me out to sea. He was so strong. His anchor was much larger than mine. He didn’t need the pills to carry his. I felt guilt. Why was I taking pills when he carried his anchor so much easier without? He said I couldn’t fully be me unless I carried my anchor like a badge of honor. I threw my pills into the water. I felt the most like myself in years. It was exhilarating. He embraced it. Then I realized my anchor had grown over time. It was much heavier than I remembered. I struggled with it. Then he did with his. I tried to carry both our anchors, but it was impossible. It drug us down. Down. Down. Down. I had to let go. His anchor was too heavy. He slowly sank, then disappeared. What’s funny is that he was gone, but part of his anchor stayed with me. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get rid of it. Part of me didn’t want to. I deserved it. I became exhausted and started to sink. It became easier not to fight. Then I saw a boat. A net fell over the side and wrapped around me. I felt myself rising. Soon I was on the boat and there sat my mother, friends, and doctor. They began chipping away at my anchor. They gave me pills. I was so exhausted that I let them. Slowly my anchor became lighter. I felt relief. I was able to think of things other than all the weight I had been carrying. I realized I was more than just my anchor. I was grateful. My anchor is still there there. Some days it’s heavier than others, but I know that there are others who are willing to help me carry it. I have my own boat now and cast my net out, hoping to find others who are being weighed down. I chip away at their anchors and bring them to shore. I am who I am, because I was born with an anchor in my chest.


Torn at the Seams  It has been 90 days since the discovery. When I published the article, I never thought it would get much attention, but now I think it may have brought on World War 3. The seam was odd, but I thought it must have just been some sort of evolutionary footprint. I mean, who could have imagined alternate dimensions hidden within every tree, and sowed away by some unknown entity? The initial reaction to my article was disapproval, but as others started looking for the seam, they all found it. One scientist in California even got a grant to have every tree in the Redwoods examined. The scientific community started to erupt with speculation. I'm not sure why it took two weeks for someone to try to actually break open the seam, but it did. The stitching was made with a material we'd never seen before. It was nearly as strong as titanium. It couldn't be cut through. Each threading had to be bent and twisted loose with heavy machinery which was extremely difficult because the pieces were so small; nearly microscopic. As each stitch was pulled, a bright pea-sized beam of light would shoot out from the tree. It was thirty days before the first tree was completely open. We were lucky that the Swedish got one open first. Other countries may have hid their discoveries. Pictures of a tree split down the middle with a portal floating above it flooded the internet. The portal glowed with a bright blue swirling with pink light. The two colors seemed to dance around each other, but never touch. Message boards ran rampant with speculation of photoshop or some other trickery. Isak Larsson was the first scientist to enter the portal. His trip was underwhelming. When he returned, Larsson said he'd been transported to an island floating distantly among stars. He said it was physically impossible what he'd seen. The Island had looked like it was from earth, but the sand was all green, and it looked like the island had been carved right out of the crust and just thrown into space. It was encased in a glass sphere and passed through a part of space undiscovered. He said there were stars floating in orbit only what appeared to be a few kilometers from each other. There were stars the size of your hand just constantly passing by the island. The world waited for more discoveries, but none came. However, every single country started either tearing apart every single tree, or selling off their trees to countries that had the wealth to rip them open. All lumber production came to a quick halt. People were uprooting their trees and selling them to the government. If a tree was cut down, the portal would be lost. The economy boomed with this new found commodity that nearly everyone had. Everyone had wealth, and for a moment it seemed like trees could be a cure all solution for the world's problems. As ridiculous as it sounds, wars even ended in order for the negotiation of trees. Not long after, though, China announced that they had started drilling in a few of there portals. Unfortunately for everyone, they found uranium. Negotiations were no longer peaceful. Countries like the U.S. believed they needed to obtain as many trees as possible in order to protect themselves. Forests became wastelands overnight. Private tree ownership was outlawed, and if you owned one you would be tried for treason. The thing is, not every portal had uranium. It seemed to be extraordinarily rare. So it was impossible to know which countries actually had uranium, and which one's didn't. The long standing superpowers all went into debt while poorer countries continued to flourish. It became an arms race for trees. Then we caught wind that North Korea had mined found an abundance of uranium in one of their portals. And now I sit here in my office in Denver. I can hear sirens and see the panic on the streets. Women running with their children. Looters raiding storefronts. It's all meaningless really. Some of us don't believe there ever was anything of use within those portals. That the rumors of mining were all false, but that doesn't matter either way because there are nuclear bombs being launched on almost every country in the world. These are bombs that have existed long before I ever noticed the seams. I suppose everyone just needed a reason to use them.


Joe was the kind of kid who believed in the extra terrestrial.He also believed that even at the speed of light, getting to another habitable planet where intelligent life existed meant millions of years of travel. So to make life more accessible to other xenotypes, traveling faster than the speed of light had to be possible. Which only meant one thing: breaking through dimensional barriers. It was Joe's belief that any sentient being could consciously choose to slip through the dimensional gates to transcend space itself. Only, the how was the elusive part. He spent years meditating, trying to achieve some form of enlightenment, only to fail miserably every time he tried to mentally teleport across the world. He had almost given up when he had an idea pop into his mind. He stood in front of a wall that separated his kitchen from his living room, a wall whose only purpose was to provide a symbolic barrier between the two rooms. He placed his head on the wall and began to imagine that the barrier between dimensions was just as real as the wall touching his head. With his mind focusing on the barrier, or, in this case the wall, he envisioned himself slipping through the drywall. He pushed with his hands against the wall, and with his head. Nothing happened. Joe sighed, and muttered under his breath. "It has to be possible. It just has to." He tried again every night, fine tuning his way of thinking. After months of no success, he had mastered the art of visualizing an outcome in his mind. One night, after a failed attempt at slipping into another dimension the same way he'd been attempting to for about a year, Joe sat in bed wondering if he'd just been wasting his time. Out of frustration and a longing for sleep, Joe slammed down onto his bed, and went down for the count. As Joe began to drift into his thoughts, he jolted awake. Except he wasn't in his bed. He was beneath it. Joe tried to gasp in awe of his newfound situation, but he found that he couldn't breathe and simply choked a little. It wasn't as though he had just physically moved underneath his bed. No, he had fallen through the bed, and was now looking up at it from beneath, floating in a kind of negative space. Joe could tell that colors around him were inverted, and he could see metallic fractal shapes as far as the eye could see. It was like looking through some insanely good rendition of a kaleidoscope. As he focused his sight in front of him, he could see the hard wood his bed was supposed to be positioned on. He reached out and touched it, and his vision began to blur. With a rush of light Joe sat up with a start, breathing as though he hadn't breathed an ounce of fresh air in minutes. "What. The fuck. Was that?!" Joe said aloud, half bemused, half panicked. Source - my imagination. Right off the top of my head.


authors note: Hey y'all! Hope you guys all are having a fabulous Friday. I Just wanted to say a few things before you get your read on. This is dedicated to my bestest friend EVER, Lilah Blackburn.❤❤❤ QOTD: Apple or Samsung? If you don't get all of this, don't worry there are a lot of inside jokes (like the prince's first and last name and others) so that's why. ONE WEEK TIL CHRISTMAS!!!! This was just for fun. I thought it'd be cute and I was bored. I wrote this in like an hour so it's not good. When I say creative nonfiction I mean it hasn’t happened yet, but it WILL. Im Determined. I shall WILL it into existence. PLEASE DONT KILL ME LILAH It was a lovely Christmas Eve, the pure white snowflakes were falling, sleigh bells jingling, and the princess of Genova was not happy. Her father, Reginald, had plans to set up an arranged marriage. ”But I don't want to!” Lilah protested. ”Dear daughter, you must! It is the legacy, that on your eighteenth birthday you shall be married to a foreign prince, ” the king said. At that, the princess ran away to the wooded forests that stretched beyond the castle. Sighing, a frustrated Reginald let her daughter go, knowing she would eventually come back. Lilah flew down the hallway and out the door until she saw the forest in her hazel colored eyes. When she saw the trees she began to slow down, and breath more steadily. Lilah was not your typical talk-to-animals-and-wear-big-sparkly-dresses type of princess. She would rather be riding horses or climbing trees with the boys. She wouldn't be able to stand it if she were married to a prissy boy who thought she had to be all proper and fancy. Lilah pushed the thoughts out of her head as she made her way up the treehouse that she found upon moving to the castle. It wasn't the most beautiful or elegant, her father offered to have another one built, but Lilah rejected. The treehouse held too many memories of a young princess who would rather be outdoors than dancing in a ball. After cooling down slightly, the princess made her way back to the castle. She had just seen the clearing in the trees when, suddenly, a large blur sped past her. Upon closer inspection, she saw a boy, about her age, gripping the neck of a horse, trying to stay on. Despite his greatest efforts, Lilah could see he was slipping. She ran to the stables where she grabbed her horse, Celeste, and jumped on bareback. She had spent enough time on Celeste that she didn't need a saddle. Her legs gripped the silky bay’s sides as she urged him into a gallop. With the speed of a race car she caught up with the boy and cut off the path of his horse. The mount reared up, tossing said boy into the brush. Lilah winced as she saw him land with a thump in the thick sticker bushes. ”Ouch, ” she heard. Peering from inside the bushes was a medium-sized boy with blonde hair and braces. ”Are you alright?” she called. For a moment the boy was silent taking in the girl's beauty. Her middle-length wavy hair flowed around her shoulders and the leaves on the top of her head looked like a halo to him. ”Ye- yes, I'm quite alright thanks to you, ” he said sheepishly. ”And who might you be?” The princess asked. ”My name's Kevin Rostin, ” he responded. ”And who are you?” the princess chuckled at the strange last name. ”I’m prin-, ” Lilah paused, not wanting Kevin to know she was a princess. ”I’m Lilah, ” she said instead. ”Anyhow, what were you doing on that horse? You don't look like you know how to ride at all.” ”I don't, ” he answered honestly. ”My... Friend, said that I needed to learn to ride.” The princess shrugged. ”Alright, well I should be off.” ”Don't go!” Kevin called. ”Why not?” ”Well, I just thought we could get to know each other more. You seem really sweet an- and smart, and your beautiful, and-. Well, I should probably stop talking, ” he stuttered. The princess felt heat rise to her face and she looked away promptly. After she was in her room, Lilah spilled everything that had happened to her favorite handmaid, Abby. After she finished Abby asked, ”Well he sure seemed to like you? Do you like him?” ”No, no of course not!” Abby wiggled her eyebrows at the princess. Lilah looked away, knowing that she really did like Kevin, but knew it could never be. The next day was Christmas, and today Lilah would meet all the princes her father had found. Not to her surprise, the princess did not like any of them. They each had the same proper attitude and tried too hard to woo the princess. At the end of each ”date”, all four of the princes proposed. And each time she curtly said ”no”. For she only had eyes for Kevin. Her father was upset that she had said no and continued to try and find princes for her. Whilst all this was going on, Kevin and Lilah we're secretly dating. She didn't even tell Abby. After a year of dating, Kevin knew he had to make his move. They were on a ride through the woods, when Kevin stopped. ”Is everything alright dear?” Lilah inquired. Without answering, he got on one knee. ”Lilah, I loved you ever since you rescued me last year. You are so much different than any other girl I hath ever met. Would you be my Lilah Rostin?” The princess’s eyes brimmed with tears as the words ”yes” escaped her lips. After telling her handmaid the news, Abby promptly swatted her on the head before saying ”I knew it! I knew it!” and danced around like a little girl. She might be been the happiest of them all. Even the king was happy for her, and found Kevin to be a wonderful man. The soon to be queen and king lived happily ever after.


Bella was sitting on a comfy beach chair and she was gazing at the sunset. The sun was about to set at the end of the western horizon. It was turning into a pink ball, then into a yellow and purple ball and finally, it became a dark one and disappeared. But Bell was sitting motionless and it was really difficult to find out whether she was gazing at the sunset or contemplating something. The sunset was always peaceful and amazing. There was serene tranquility in this part of the earth. It was really beautiful and the more beautiful it was when the image of the setting sun was dangling on the water flow of Rapti river. Bella had so many things to remember in her life. It was her second visit to that place. When she had come to that place she was young and her dreams were youthful too. It was the same beach where she had got a wedding proposal from Victor which she had accepted with little shyness and glues on her face. In front of her, Victor was there in local dress and he had proposed Bella to be his life. Bella and Victor both were surrounded by the local artists who had gathered there for the cultural program and They were chosen as the team leaders for dance. Victor engaged her by putting a ring on her finger. The crowd had offered them flowers and garlands. Bella smiled at herself when all those goods moments repeated in her eyes but big teardrops rolled down her eyes too. “Victor” she wanted to shout this name so loudly that the river, every stone, the hills, trees, and all-around could hear her call and Victor might come back to her. Bella had just finished her university studies and she was thinking to go somewhere and spend a couple of weeks on holiday because she had to find a good job for herself. Bella was born and grew up in Paris one of the most beautiful cities in the world and she was a native French speaker though she tried to learn the English language her pronunciation was not very good in English. She had better the best opportunities to go around. She could visit entire Europe or could go to adventurous jungle safari in the dark dense forest of Africa or she had some beautiful destinations in Asia like Japan, South Korea, Singapore, or China. It was her first international trip she was thinking and planning. She was not very sure where to go. She wanted to go to a place that is safe, friendly, and affordable. She was about to talk about this with her boyfriend Victor. The very day when she revealed her wish to go for a visit, Victor was not interested to go anywhere though she had already decided to go on the trip. “Honey, I have a really amazing destination for our holidays and I believe you will never forget this visit in your entire life.” Victor smiled. Bella couldn’t stop herself from smiling to but impatiently she asked, “Victor where are you going, honey?” “We are going to visit Nepal. A small Asian country the land of unique culture mystery high Hill adventure.” victor said calmly. “Nepal! Where did you get this idea? How are the people there?” I do not prefer going there.” Bella seemed annoyed and she spoke in agony. Victor was rather confident. So he spoke in a loving voice, “Do not worry honey I have a friend from Nepal I know him for two years he’s a good guy. He has invited us to visit his country. I promise you should really enjoy this visit.” Victor tried to persuade Bella. Finally, they decided to visit Nepal. When Bella and Victor had come to the international airport in Kathmandu it was almost night. They came out slowly through the exit passage and glanced around, it was a small airport. The crowd was noticeable there and there was a long queue of the taxies there. Victor and Bella both were sorts of speakers of English but nobody in the airport at Kathmandu understood French so they had a little difficult dealing with the taxi driver but one of the taxi drivers was quite young around 25 years of age approached them and talked to them in French. They felt good. He lifted them to the nearby hotel in which Victor had already made an online booking. Bella was tired. She didn’t find any interest in the nearby areas that she could glimpse through the taxi window. But from inside the running taxi, she felt the quality of the road is not quite good. Because the taxi was jumping and dipping in every few minutes and the driver has to use the break time and again. “Hey, Bella wakes up. Come out and an amazing morning is waiting for you. Come, I will show you the first miracle of nature” Victor was sounding at Bella. Bella was still feeling dizzy and she had a headache too. So she expressed her unwillingness to get up so early. But how could Victor let her idol? He embraced her and got her onto his hands and carried her to the door of the room. They came to the top of the hotel building. “Look at honey what is that,” Victor shouted with joy. “It is amazing” Bella shouted too. The first rays of the sun had smoothly touched the high mountains. The whole mountain range was looking like pink color sooner it’ll become a little and then gray and finally, it became white. “This is Mt. Ganesh” a local guide pointed to one of the peaks. That one is Mt. Manaslu.” Then he pointed to “Himal Chuli, Pabil, Lang tang, Gang Chhenpo and Sisa Pangma.” “This is the land of high mountains. Eight out ten highest mountains are in this country.” He concluded. Bella jumped onto Victor and embraced him tightly. She sealed Victor’s mouth with her warm lips and they kept kissing each other for some time. The scenic beauty of the mountains had made her fresh. All her lethargy was over. After having breakfast Victor proposed Bella go around the city which Bella readily accepted. They came out and Victor leads Bella to look around the city. They came to the Patan Durbar squire where amazing sculptures, stone temples, water spouts, artistic window pans, and marvelous wood carving made Bella spellbound. She clicked hundreds of photos there. The local guide explained the myth of every temple and monastery there. The city area was not a very big city. It was small but it was fantastic. “What an artistic sculpture,” Bella said. “Honey, I will take you to some other places you would like and remain thankful to me” Victor giggled. “I am always thankful to you and will always remain loyal to you.” Bella laughed too. Victor and Bella both enjoyed local Newari food. Bella had their first experience of Asian spicy and chilly hot meals. She couldn’t eat well because her mouth was burning with chilly heat. Victor too was having difficulty in eating local Newari dishes. But he didn’t want to show that to Bella so he quietly kept on chewing and swallowing the food. After spending a couple of days in Kathmandu they came to Pokhara. Pokhara was amazingly beautiful and the Annapoorna Mountain Range made Bella rethink natural beauty. They visited Pokhara thoroughly and left it for Chitwan. Their final destination was Chitwan. They came to Chitwan and spent three nights there. They enjoyed jungle safari, local Tharu dance and that was where Bella and Victor sat together and talked for hours. Bella had so many things attached to her life here. Victor had proposed Bella. He had dressed up in local attire and he looked like the leader of the local dance team. Bella too was encouraged to dress up in local cultural attire and Bell and Victor danced with the local dance team. Wow, what a joyful time. They spent their most beautiful time there and returned back to their country. Bella had started a job but Victor wanted to complete his Ph.D. degree so they had to remain far away. Bella was busy at her work but especially Victor was very busy in his studies, but they had promised to be together, and they both were honest to their promises. “Dear, we shall get marry this year.” Victor had assured Bella and Bella was keen too. “We will to Nepal and get married there in their ritual. I love their culture.” Victor had proposed and Bella jumped with joy, wow great idea, because they had seen the local marriage tradition and they felt it amazingly nice. They planned and booked the ticket too. But one summer evening Bella got the news Victor got in a car accident and lost his life. Bella could not believe the news but it was true, as true as the sun in the sky. That summer had gone. It had taken Bella’s all the happiness and joy. She was alone and she had lost her happiness. She sat on the bank and gazed at the running water of the Rapti river. The sun rises and sets but Bella’s happiness has set down, no one knows when it shall rise up.


"I was trying to describe you to someone a few days ago. You don't look like any girl I've ever seen before. I couldn't say "Well she looks just like Jane Fonda, except that she's got red hair, and her mouth is different and of course, she's not a movie star..." I couldn't say that because you dont look like Jane Fonda at all. I finally ended up describing you as a movie I saw when I was a child in Tacoma Washington. I guess I saw it in 1941 or 42, somewhere in there. I think I was seven, or eight, or six. It was a movie about rural electrification, a perfect 1930's New Deal morality kind of movie to show kids. The movie was about farmers living in the country without electricity. They had to use lanterns to see by at night, for sewing and reading, and they didn't have any appliances like toasters or washing machines, and they couldn't listen to the radio. They built a dam with big electric generators and they put poles across the countryside and strung wire over fields and pastures. There was an incredible heroic dimension that came from the simple putting up of poles for the wires to travel along. They looked ancient and modern at the same time. Then the movie showed electricity like a young Greek god, coming to the farmer to take away forever the dark ways of his life. Suddenly, religiously, with the throwing of a switch, the farmer had electric lights to see by when he milked his cows in the early black winter mornings. The farmer's family got to listen to the radio and have a toaster and lots of bright lights to sew dresses and read the newspaper by. It was really a fantastic movie and excited me like listening to the Star Spangled Banner, or seeing photographs of President Roosevelt, or hearing him on the radio "... the President of the United States... " I wanted electricity to go everywhere in the world. I wanted all the farmers in the world to be able to listen to President Roosevelt on the radio. That's how you look to me.


Dead Mystery Dear Diary, 10/29/2001 It was a normal day at school for me. I woke up, brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, and ate breakfast. You know the normal things you do when you wake up. Except for today I didn’t because my mom forgot to wake me up so I was late which I secretly didn’t mind cause I got to miss math class. I’m not good at math! But I was going to go downstairs and ask her to drop me at school cause the bus had left but she told me to take the day off cause she had lots of work to do and had the weirdest smile on her face. I told her to wait, before you go can you pick me up my Halloween costume! She had replied with what did you want to be Esme? I was so mad I've been telling her for 2 months. I said whatever I want to be a friend of a victim. She said REALLY I’ve been waiting thank you... I started laughing as she left, what did she even mean like she sewed up a costume like that already. I was weirded out but that didn’t last long enough cause I remembered I had to take a test in civics ugh a day in the life of a 7th grader I guess! I have to finish getting ready and walk to school, with my calculations I should be there for 3rd period. It’s been 30 minutes and I’ve finally made it. My calculations were a little off but that’s beside the point I saw my mom as I was waiting in the security line. As I was watching my mom be shady. I overheard a girl's conversation saying that her mom will find her and kill her daughter's best friend. Well, I feel bad for her but it’s not true that’s such a made-up story! Now back to my mom what she is doing here she told me she had a lot of work to do. I’m getting worried I’m gonna tell my best friend Mariah about this she has to know. I ran up to Mariah as I left the security line I told her about everything that has happened so far she told me it’s a little weird but your mom is probably telling the school about your absence that isn’t much of an absence anymore we both looked each other and a chuckle escaped my lips before we knew it we were both belly laughing on the floor. After I got myself to stop laughing I said well now that I say it out loud it’s weird, well I have to go and take a test. Wish me luck! She said good luck! But I could barely hear it as I was running to my next class. After I finished all my classes it was recess and I saw my mom again but this time she was holding a knife and she had a mad look in her eyes that said death... That wasn’t even the worst part, the knife was covered in a thick red liquid dripping down so my first thought was blood and then my instinct was to RUN! So I ran to Mariah the only person who would believe me and I found Mariah just not alive. I was in disbelief. I sat there crying and crying. I called 911 in my tears but instead of a sweet voice on the phone that would help me I heard a rough static then a voice that sounded like my mom that was saying this will all soon be a dead mystery... I screamed through the phone. I heard nothing, nothing and then I heard static. I can’t believe that my own mom would do this. The person that has raised me forever and then would suddenly in a snap just kill my best friend! I wanted revenge, but more importantly, I wanted answers. I wanted my best friend back! I screamed, how come not a single person heard me. I still was in school crying next to a dead body and no one showed up, not a single soul. I was wrong. I heard footsteps. I was happy someone could help but I should have known those footsteps would be no help because they were from my mom. I turned around to see her smiling and what she said were the most horrendous words I heard, she told me Mariah is as dead as the dead mystery that will soon become. I screamed in her face and I begged her to help Mariah. I demanded her for answers but she looked at me with a confused yet smug face. She said this is what you wanted right? This is the costume you wanted right except it’s not really a costume then she said it’s my job to give you everything and ANYTHING you want. I remembered when I asked her that, was it really my fault? Was I the reason she died? Too many questions and zero answers. Then my mom said don’t think too much about useless things you won’t remember then stabbed me not with the knife but with a chip? -Signing off Esme 2hrs Later... Huh? What am I doing here in the middle of the forest!? What’s my name? Why am I covered in blood... I can’t remember anything like how old I am or my name and even how I got here. I had to find a way back home if only I knew where to go. Wait, I have a backpack on me. What's inside it? There's a pack of cranberries and a juice box, a pen, a diary. Maybe if I read this diary there might be something to help me find my way home. But should I? That’s an invasion of privacy. I wouldn't want anyone to read my diary. No, I must read it. It could give me a clue. 10 minutes later... Is this my diary? Did this actually happen to someone? I have to find whoever I wrote about, first I have to wash off this blood. I think I see a lake nearby. Ew, this smells so bad I just noticed the smell, but more importantly who’s blood is on me? I’m thinking too fast about one problem at a time. First I have to find this woman who is supposedly my mom. I can’t even call her mom. I may have forgotten everything but reading that page covered in my best friend's blood. I think after reading the diary multiple times to try to understand. Well anyways, I think I'm fully cleaned up now. Time to find my mom, let’s go! We're on our way to find- to find- ,well I don’t know what to find yet. I really should stop talking to myself. WAIT! I see my school teacher, my classmates! Finally, someone can help but why are they here? I went to ask them but they said it’s Ronnberry middle school’s field trip day. Oh yeah I totally forgot about the field trip day with everything going on. Then they said but who are you? I snorted and a giggle slipped out. It was the most I've laughed since Mariah’s death. Then they say No but really who are you and why are you laughing? I said c'mon guys we have the same homeroom is this some sort of prank? Wait, is today my birthday and you guys are planning a surprise party? The whole classroom including the teacher had a scared and confused face but mostly confused. I said how could you forget me?! I guess I said it in an angry tone because they said. Please don’t hurt us, we'll pretend we never saw you. Then they left and walked away from me and gave me faces as they left. I gave them one last face, a face that showed hope. Cause I hoped that they would remember me but no matter how hard I tried they didn’t know me they forgot me. But that’s a little suspicious how they all forgot me this had to be the work of my mom. Now I was furious she took all my loved ones away from me and I can’t do anything about it. I walked further into the forest, each step I lost more hope then I thought I should give up then I saw my mom. I looked her straight in her eyes, her beady green eyes and said how did everyone forget me you did something didn’t you! She said yes I did, your missing no one wants you but I still care come home well you have no choice anyways your either coming willingly or i’ll force you. I got scared and I knew he could sense that so I told her I will come willingly and I want no problems. Then she said you won’t be living as comfortably as before now you will live in the basement with a tracker and a chain that extends only up the stairs. I said why would you want to do this to me? She said simple I don’t care about you. I used you as free labor and didn’t have the heart to get rid of you. Then I ended up living in the basement, writing in my diary, and I was given my phone. I contacted everyone I knew and they all blocked me one by one. Mom still fed me but I refused to eat which is why if you come to my house you will feel my spirit. I’m a missing person without a poster without anything but chains around my hands. I died and had no one to care about me. I hope in the future someone will avenge me and let the whole world know about my adventure, my story, my diary. Mom was right, it's all a dead mystery...