My mother is a walking miracle. I'm not kidding. She shouldn't be alive. I know what you're thinking, but no, she wasn't the only survivor of a plane crash. She didn't fight off an intruder or make a miraculous recovery from a deadly disease. No, my mom is here because someone upstairs has a sense of humour. At least I *hope* that's the reason. I have a lot of anecdotal evidence for my claim, but for today's purposes I will tell you one story. The Story of the Bike. My grandfather was stationed overseas in the late 50's at Camp King in Germany. That's a whole other story, and it even includes a song, but we'll skip that and just go into the fact that army bases in foreign countries are their own little self-contained worlds and this one was no different. Mom had made a few friends a little older than her and they all had bicycles. My mother did not have a bike. But she wanted one. She wanted one so badly that she saved her allowance and begged her parents for one for Christmas. She even planned ahead and bribed one of the neighbourhood teens to teach her to ride. This consisted of my mom peddling on the grass lawn in front of the house while the teen 'teacher' read my mom's Supergirl comic books and grunted occasionally. Gradually, Mother's skill level increased as her comic book level decreased. Finally, Christmas arrived and what does she find under the tree? A brand new bike! Oh boy! Mom rushes outside with her prize and heads out to meet the rest of the b.r.a.t.s on the base and off they go to the 'Drop.' Now every kid that doesn't live in Florida has a hill or road that serves as a catalyst for speed tricks and/or blunt force trauma but this particular hill was something else entirely. It was several hundred feet high at a steep grade and at the bottom was a 90 degree turn. Beyond this was a forest. The army kids would line up at the top and one by one, they would all shoot down at breakneck speed and come to a rest at the bottom. Mother watched excitedly and nervously as they shot down the road, seemingly flying as they navigated the hill. Then it was her turn. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and pushed off on her brand new bike. Down she went. Faster and faster! It was exhilarating! No wonder the other kids loved this so much! She held on to her handlebars as the bicycle picked up more and more speed. She was soaring now. The wind whipped past her and she saw the kids waiting at the bottom of the hill for her. They were waving. Waving? She didn't have time to consider that now, the ground under her was a blur and she wasn't slowing. Why wasn't she slowing like the other kids? The bottom of the hill was close. She could see individual expressions on her friends' faces now and they were horrified. And *why* wasn't she slowing? She should be- My mother bombed past her astonished pals and crashed full speed into the trees, destroying the bike, two bones, a whole lot of skin, and every shred of pride. She lay there, unable to get up and totally unable to understand why this had happened to her. Why didn't she stop like everybody else? As she pondered this question and tried to figure out how she was going to explain this to her dad, her friends ran up. "Susan! Susan! Are you okay?" "Why didn't you use the brakes?" My mother just looked at them. She had learned to ride a bike in the grass. The bike just ...stopped when it was done. Confused, she just said, "Brakes? What are brakes?" And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I learned that common sense is dead, it didn't die yesterday, and holy shit, that's my mom and somehow I made it to adulthood.


Dorothy enjoyed tea and television. Ever since she had retired, they were her chief pleasures. There was also her husband, Ralph, and she certainly loved him, but he complained about how loud she watched her shows and sometimes he would buy those hideous bagged teas at the supermarket, so she couldn't in good faith place him on the same level as a *Downton Abbey* or a first flush Darjeeling. He was more like a Keemun, dependable but much too familiar. Still, she couldn't complain about Ralph too much. It was through his hard work they'd been able to afford this house out in the countryside, and she enjoyed living here, away from the noise and commotion of the city. It was peaceful. She could steep her tea while listening to the birds and watching rabbits chase each other across the yard. Today was especially peaceful because Ralph was gone, which meant Dorothy could turn up the volume on the television as high as she liked. For now, the news was droning on about the Middle East, those kids who disappeared last year, and the upcoming election, but soon that broadcast would end and one of Dorothy's favourite shows would begin. Indeed, as soon as she heard the theme music she scooted to the living room and sat down in her chair. It was halfway through the episode when she heard it: a knocking on the door, followed by a voice: "Lettuce and peas!" The phrase repeated. Must be those local farmers trying to sell their overpriced *organic* vegetables, thought Dorothy, turning up the volume on the television. But still she heard it: "Lettuce and peas!" They sure are persistent, she thought. What an odd combination too. The banging on the door intensified. "Lettuce and peas!" "Lettuce and peas!" Dorothy settled more stubbornly into her chair. Now they were just being rude. And who goes door-to-door selling vegetables at this hour of the evening? "Lettuce and peas!" She would not budge. She would not deign to give them the satisfaction. People these days were so ill-mannered, and one mustn't oblige their impertinence: banging on the door, yelling... "Lettuce and--" Finally it was over, and Dorothy returned her full attention to her show. ## There were three of them: Mirabelle, her brother Oliver, and the little one the monster called Duncan. Mirabelle couldn't remember for how long they'd been trapped inside the monster's lair, but it seemed like forever. Oh, the things they had endured! But today was the day they would gain their freedom. Their tunnel was complete. They waited patiently until evening-- And went: Through the tunnel--into the outdoors. It was disorienting at first, but they held hands and ran: anywhere: away from the lair! They saw a house in the distance and headed toward it. Suddenly they heard the monster behind. But he was far.


Did it dream of red sands and a barren land where nothing blooms? The Pioneer knew it didn’t belong here. Not in this dusty, shallow grave that cradled its body of steel. Once, its purpose had driven it here, even if that purpose was now long forgotten. Something had woken it from its sleep. A call echoed somewhere deep within its mind--a wordless demand it couldn’t quite decipher. The Pioneer stretched its jointed fingers, ones that rough winds had barraged, eroding away the protective shell until only bare metal remained. Now, there was only calm. It didn’t have to stay here. But the Pioneer’s body was heavy, its metallic heart beating ever slower and slower. It could let the sand and dust swallow it whole into its rough embrace. Yes, it could stay here, let its own weight create its tomb. And bit by bit, rust would devour, and atom by atom, the world would eat the Pioneer away. It would leave behind an orange frame, one of jutted broken steel. Wires and cords would blossom where its body lay. But the call came again, like a surging wave over the Pioneer, tugging at its feet and forcing it to move. Mechanical eyes rolled in their pits, trying to find focus once more. With the whir and whine of its joints, the Pioneer stood up, casting off its dusty veil. It took a step and its feet dug into the sand. Its before so sure movements wavered, but it was still movement forward. One lurching step followed another, heavy feet leaving red clouds in its wake. If the desolate landscape around the Pioneer changed, its eyes remained blind to it until its feet met moist ground. The Pioneer swayed, looking down at the water bubbling from underneath its feet. It had been sand before, it knew. Now it was all green. Dark, muted colors that matted the ground, and bright vibrant hues that rose high above, even higher than the Pioneer could reach. A tiny white flower, a multitude of them, stared at the Pioneer from within the lush green. The Pioneer knew the plant, even if its name was long gone from its machine mind. It was sure it had once created one, watched it grow from its striped seed, watched the leaves unfurl and hunger for light and water. But it had never seen one bloom. How could it, in this barren world of stone and dust? Yet here it was, as if mocking the notion. The Pioneer walked further into the green. Moisture condensed on the surface of its fractured shell, rolling droplets leaving stripes that revealed white underneath. Somewhere far, it could feel it. The call that had pulled it out of its sleep and forced its broken body to move. It was getting stronger now, each step bringing the Pioneer closer. A gleaming light shone in the distance. As the Pioneer’s whirring eyes came to focus, they revealed a dome that rose above the green. Now closer, the Pioneer could see where the green had broken through, or perhaps broken out, leaving a jagged hole just big enough. Inside, it was steady ground that met its steps, white gleaming surfaces and straight lines all around. Something rolled up to the Pioneer, its surface smooth silver and white, not a speck of dust to be seen. The Pioneer could sense its call, a reach that surged through its wires and chips. “Unauthorized unit--rrzz--. This area is a restricted living area. You are advised to turn back immediately.” Living--? The Pioneer lifted its heavy head and saw people. Their wide eyes and open mouths stared at the Pioneer, but its focus was already elsewhere. The small machine that whirred and swirled around the Pioneer’s feet wasn’t what it was looking for. The call, the one that pulled at the Pioneer, still pricked at the edges of its mind. It walked on through the place where white of the angular buildings shone against the deep lush. In the dome above, the Pioneer saw a prism of colors, scattering across the shiny surface. “Whatareyou?” The Pioneer looked down. The words were a scrambled mess in its ears. It needed a signal, but living flesh couldn’t give one it would understand. The small person stared at the Pioneer, black eyes wide and intent, as if trying to unravel what the machine was. “Getawayfromit!” Another came to drag the small person away. More fervent calls arose from around the Pioneer as it continued its walk, but those weren’t enough to stop the machine. It had finally found it. The Pioneer stared at what once would have been its mirror image. The buildings made way to a wide opening where the figure stood, towering above the people. Its glossy white shell hid the metal underneath, joints shining steel. It hadn’t been ravaged by the coarse, unrelenting winds, or dirtied by the dust that found its way into every seam. It was whole. And it was gone. The other Pioneer embraced the green that climbed its motionless form and rested on its open outstretched palms. Flowers bloomed on its shoulders and where its heavy feet were bolted to the ground. All this time, its call had been fading, until it was gone. Final goodbye of the lifeless machine as it now embraced the life it had once brought forth. “Unauthorized unit--defensive measures will be--turn back immediately.” The scattered message reached the Pioneer, but whatever it meant, the Pioneer’s broken mind couldn’t grasp its meaning. It only remembered long journeys and the trailing red dust. It remembered when it had finally found water and damp ground. It remembered its purpose. The Pioneer fell to its knees. Somewhere deep within its body, bits and pieces moved, wheels whirred now knowing what they had been made for. The Pioneer stretched its stiff fingers, and on its open palm, it saw green. The green that was more tenacious than the metal. It had a desire to live, hard coded into its very being. And it bloomed. It would continue to bloom, the Pioneer knew, long after it was gone. Now, it was ready for another dream.


No one really knew what happened inside the Bath House--all they knew was that the people who went in were not the same who came out. Well. Not technically. Sure, they looked the same. They had the same mannerisms. The same essence. But that was about it. It was like looking at a stranger twin of the person you used to know. A stranger because they didn’t recognize you. They didn’t recognize anyone, or anything, from their old life. And all it took was one appointment. Move on and move into the new you--the Bath House’s very own slogan. No channels or podcasts had ever managed to interview any clients of the Bath House or gather any relevant information of what was really going on inside the ‘boring building on Blane Road number 10’. All the media had was speculation, wild conspiracy theories. Even after that one time an especially motivated reporter tried breaking in and instead broke his leg falling from the downspout. That was the first time Lenny heard about the Bath House. That was when he knew he had to get a job working there. He just had to. It took a while. A few months. It took patience. The screening process was rigorous. The paperwork endless. But then. Finally. They called back. When he announced the big news, his friends looked on blankly. The where what now? His sister rolled her eyes and murmured something like ‘whatever’. His parents were skeptical but congratulatory anyway. Whatever you want, son, you do you. He still wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly. Maybe their cautious doubt was understandable. Both his parents were spaceship designers for the Galaxy Corp. His sister had gone on to major in molecular physics. And Lenny was...well. Lenny knew his parents had borne through his multiple career choices over the years--‘career’ being a generous term--no matter how farfetched or strange or hard to explain. That time he signed up for the six-month Mars expedition. The Infantry training against Alien Invasions--heck, it was 2045, the year they really thought it was going to hit. He learned some basic coding, hacking imaginary enemy fire shields. Mostly he learned that he hated waking up early and sitting at a desk for fifteen-hour shifts. Anyway. He’d lasted longer at the Bath House than everyone thought he would. What do you even do there? His sister asked him every night at the dinner table. He’d explain it, every night, again: some people have a shit time, a bad streak of luck, say a traumatic experience. The Bath House helps them to move on. He just facilitates the process. Yeah but how? His sister always persisted. And what do you do? Like open the door for the doctor? Somehow she couldn’t imagine him doing anything important. He wanted to tell her that the Bath House didn’t exactly have ‘doctors’--not in the usual sense anyway. But that would be discussing company secrets and see, he’d signed an NDA way back when. Technically, he couldn’t tell her, or anyone, really, anything about his job or what he really did there. At the Bath House he usually clocked in at the regular time because he was a punctual guy--he always prided himself on that. Commitment issues aside (or so his therapist used to tell him), he could always commit to being on time. Maybe that was why he got so many job offers, why it was never hard to slip in and out of jobs--people liked guys like him--guys that just showed up. The Bath House was definitely a boring building--and by boring there was nothing remarkable or imaginative about it--square, white concrete, a film of windows on each of the ten stories. A flat roof. It didn’t even have a sign up front or on the door. Just a number. Ten. It could have been an office building or a bank that went under for all anyone knew. Derelict weeds adorned cracks in the parking lot and groped the side of the building. Lenny always thought it was kind of...depressing. Ironically so, because ‘moving on’ was their whole game show and ‘moving on’ was supposed to be, well...cheerful, wasn’t it? A hopeful prospect, a fresh perspective? Even the receptionist was nondescript--a woman with glasses and a bland beige cardigan and a fixed smile. There was nothing that stood out on her face and she was neither bad looking nor pretty, she was the kind of woman you’d forget the second after you turned away. Lenny felt a little bad about it--he felt worse he never remembered her name, but he reasoned it must be a plain name, too--she looked like a Sue. It unsettled him she didn’t remember his name, either. She called him ‘the tech guy’. When he walked into the front door and scanned his badge, she picked up the phone and said, in a voice that couldn’t have held any less enthusiasm, “The tech guy is here.” Usually, he rotated the rooms on eight floors. The top two were restricted access. The regular elevator didn’t even go up there. He tried not to eavesdrop as the ‘transition counselors’ led the clients from the waiting room to the consulting room to the changing room. He tried not to listen when they discussed personal matters that really wasn’t his business but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. Anyway, it’s not like they ever noticed he was even there, loitering in the hallway. The stories were real downers. Yesterday there was that woman whose sons had cut contact with her. Last week, there was an elderly man whose wife left him for her nineteen-year-old art student. And the first day he was here, a couple had lost their twin children to a freak car accident. It made Lenny realize his life was well, rather ordinary. Mars stint and alien shield hacking aside. He’d never experienced gut-wrenching trauma or horrific tragedy like those people and finally he felt like he was doing something that mattered. He was helping them. He just wished he could talk about it. Tell his sister and mom and dad. Show them that he was actually finally doing something that sort of mattered. Even if all he did was change the filters in the baths and replenish the water supply and plug people in. Okay, fine, maybe he didn’t want to tell his sister that her suspicions were accurate and that he really was just a ‘tech guy’. But still, let her wonder. Let her imagine him being cool and important just for a little while. The process was simple. The client entered the Bath Room in their issued white body suit, looking skeptical and apprehensive and awkward. Lenny delivered his lines. There’s nothing to worry about. Make yourself comfortable. It won’t take a minute. He guided them to the water filled pod in the middle of the room. Usually there was relaxing spa style music playing--a waterfall or random tropical birds fluttering. The client would then lie inside the water until they were partially submerged. Lenny would dim the lights. Apparently it was better to dim the lights before plugging people in because well, they’d probably tried it the other way around and that didn’t go so well. As much as the client had been briefed for the process, no one liked actually watching the plugs getting buried into their skin. The clients usually got a sedative before getting into the Bath so they wouldn’t splash around or cause a fuss. Lenny continued to say soothing stuff he’d learned in training like, You’re doing great. Almost there. Just try and relax. Then came the plugs. They looked like rubber wires and had incisor tips which dug a centimeter into the person’s arms, legs, torso, and feet. As the sedative kicked in, Lenny worked on the plugs. There were about eighty of them. It usually took a half hour. Usually, no one complained. They were too drugged out to feel anything. You’re doing so well, Lenny would say. Just try and breathe. The final stage had to be just right. Once all the plugs were in, Lenny would transfer the client’s tailored identity sequence into the main processor connected to the plugs. Then he waited for the download. Another hour, and the entire process was finished. No more Dark Past. No more unwanted memories. All gone. The last client of the day took him by surprise. She was young--early twenties, close to Lenny’s age. Tall and slender with crow black hair trailing down to her waist. Strikingly beautiful. But Lenny was a professional--he was the tech guy--he didn’t linger. He was even more surprised when she introduced herself. Kate. Mostly, clients preferred to remain anonymous. She didn’t ask any questions like people usually did. Will it hurt? How long will this take? Like they were getting a tooth pulled instead of an entirely new persona. Kate wasn’t like them--anxious or impatient. There was something about her eyes though. Even as she was lying in the water looking up at him. Trusting. And sad. As Lenny plugged her in, he saw the scars on her wrists. They reminded him somehow of tally marks on the wall of a prison cell. He thought it curious that she chose to leave them there. As Kate drifted off, he wondered what new identity she had created for herself. He wondered where she came from and what had brought her here. Today, there were no birds, there was no waterfall. What sounded over the speakers was a long and distant electronic hum that sounded as though they were flying through space. Being a tech guy, Lenny didn’t have access to personal information. He couldn’t actually open the client files and see what new personality they’d created for themselves, what new memories, what enhanced coping mechanisms. Not that he wouldn’t if he could--he just didn’t have the password. All he had was a sequence which he now typed into the processor and downloaded into Kate’s brain. He wondered if she wanted to keep her name. Mostly, clients adapted new names. New addresses. Sometimes, they awoke speaking a different language. There was not one vestige, one shard, of their past selves left behind. He felt a little regretful they hadn’t talked more. Maybe he and Kate would have had things in common. Maybe they would have been friends. Maybe more. But he’s getting way ahead of himself. The processor notified Lenny the download was complete. Maybe Kate would open her eyes speaking Russian and introducing herself as a pole vaulting champion named Natasha. People sometimes got carried away. At least, that was what Lenny wanted people to think. That it was all their idea. Their imagination. Their fantasy. He was, after all, just the tech guy. A step above the janitor, maybe, but still no one the ‘transition counselors’ looked twice at or even bothered to address unless they needed one of the hard drives looked at. It was the same old story. Back at the Mars habitat--the team leader sure liked his coffee hot and punctual but never thought to ask Lenny for anything that really mattered. He would never know about Lenny’s ideas on heat shields or rebooting the system for faster turnovers. It didn’t matter anymore, anyway. Here he could make his ideas heard. Even if no one ever found out it was his idea in the first place. It didn’t matter. Each day, clients came in with their own program, their own agenda. But at the end of each day, they left with his. In a way, he liked to think that he was sending his creations, little pieces of himself, out into the world. In a way, he was. And they would never know. Kate opened her eyes with a gasp. Yes, she was still Kate. Lenny didn’t want to change that part about her. But that was the only thing he hadn’t changed. He’d had fun with this one--he’d given her something special. Yes. It was his finest design yet. Lenny stood to greet his new creation.


From the Prompt - **You've just walked in on your sibling murdering someone, and they are surprised by how unfazed you are.** My answer was to long to post it there so I am putting it up here.  Blood, I could smell it permeating the air. It smelled a little like rusted pennies and funnily enough raw hamburgers. I knew the smell well, but why the hell was I smelling it now? In my family home where I have never done any of those, well, hidden activities. Curious, I began my investigation through the living room to the kitchen. Nothing cooking in here. I moved on my eyes flicking to the laundry, the door was open a load of washing was on but no blood could be seen. I went on to the hallway towards the back of the house. The smell got stronger and I began to worry Had I fucked up had I been seen one night? Had I been followed back to my family home. Was I about to find the body of my mother and father slaughtered in there bed? I didn’t really know how to feel about that, feelings of any kind confused me. Still I did my best to copy what I saw in others. I told my parents quite often that I loved them, I smiled and hugged them, when they did something that pleased me and reminded myself that I should do the same in return. That was the normal thing to do and I had to look normal so as to not get unwanted attention. Stopping at their bedroom the door was open, the bed made, clothing put away neatly in draws and closets. The headboard and bed side tables were even clutter and dust free. I moved on. Bathroom, clean and clear. My old childhood bedroom now an office. A little messy with paperwork but still clear. My eyes locked onto the last door, right at the end of the hallway, my little sisters room. I let out a soft breath and edged towards her door wondering what I would find. She was 5 years younger then me and a pain in the ass. Id thought of killing her often, spent hours dwelling on how I could get away with it so no one would be able to trace things back to me. Id been young, immature and no plan was ever perfect enough, it meant she survived to reach adulthood, lucky bitch. She also stopped being such a pain in the ass. I’m sure my moving out helped a lot with that. Now this. The smell of blood. Had someone else killed my sister? If so they were fucking dead. I’d hunt them down and spend a few days skinning them. Id rip out there teeth and nails one by one, break there fingers then any other bone that I felt like shattering It wouldn’t be quick, whoever it was would suffer until there hearts gave out from the agony. My long strong fingers curled around the door handle and I was turning it when the thought that the killer could be still in there and I had no weapon. To late to retreat now, I pushed hard on the door letting it swing back to hit the wall letting me know no one was hiding behind it. A woman screamed and turned to face me both of us stood frozen staring at one another. She was drenched in blood, it covered her from head to toe dripping from her hair onto her shoulders soaking into her once white shirt. I could still see the image of a unicorn on it and frowned. I knew that shirt, and the one adult childish enough to wear it at 22 “Debbie” I said with disbelief “Jamie” yep that was her voice I looked past her to the mess on her bed, the body had been stabbed multiple times even now a knife protruded from the body. I stepped closer to have a better look and my sister stumbled back stopping only when her shoulders hit her cupboard doors. “what a mess” I said looking now at the room, blood had sprayed up to hit the walls, it had soaked into the carpet and the bed, well the bed was done for. She would never be able to get the blood out and give it a few days and the smell would be unbearable. I sighed “your lucky I have a truck with room for all this shit” I hissed wondering where to even start. Id never been this messy “your, your not gonna call the cops” she shook as I looked at her “the cops, why would I call them?” wide eyes stared at me “I killed someone” I nodded this was fact, why she was stating the obvious thought I never understood why people did that “yeah I see that” “that's wrong” It was? funny I never felt that way “they why did you do it” she curled in on herself at my question her slim arms hugging herself “he, he” and her voice died I looked back to the face trying to work out who the stiff was “he tried” she started again and petered out I rolled my eyes not wanting to stand here while she tried to explain and failed “whatever, he is dead now and we need to deal with this fucking mess” I had rolls of plastic in my car. Duck-tape, rope and chemicals as well as a plastic body suit. I turned to go get it “don't leave me” I turned back as my sister cried out and the first of many tears began “your really not freaked out by this?” she pushed off from the door she had been leaning against “no, and I’m not leaving, I’m getting plastic to wrap this shit in so it doesn’t contaminate the rest of the house when we drag it out" She used her hands to swipe at the tears it only smeared the blood around more “when are mum and dad coming home?” I needed to know “tomorrow” she hick-upped after telling me and I let out a small breath. At least that was good news this would take hours to clean up and mum and dad would insist on calling the cops even if that meant sending there baby girl to prison for the rest of her life. “go have a shower” I snapped “try not to get blood everywhere” I had a second plastic body suit in my car that would fit her with some minor modifications, I'd be damned if I was cleaning this up on my own. Walking off I was lugging things back in happy to hear the water going in the bathroom. I made a note to clean that room to, everything would need a good scrub down with bleach and a lot of it. At least Debbie was doing as she was told. For once. I rolled my eyes again as I ripped off the first heavy duty garbage bag from the roll and began to stuff loose items into it. I didn't care if it was clothing, stuffed toys from her childhood or school books, everything was replaceable. This was step one of the clean up. I'd need help taking it all out, that was step two. I already had a disposal spot in mind, one I have looked into for my next project but I guess that would have to wait. Step three would be wrapping up the stiff for that Debbie would have to help me Hearing the water shut off a good half an hour later my sister was dressed in her ratty gardening clothing when she came back to her room. Clearly she didn't want to ruin any of her good stuff as she liked to call it, I found half of it vomit inducing, all the pink and sparkle and her obversion with fucking unicorns, blah. What was wrong with black on practical black? yet another thing I didn't get. thankfully I was a guy so I didn't have to worry to much about fashion and shit. holding my hand up to halt her at the threshold she looked to the bags already filled with blood spattered items. “stop” I pointed to the plastic suit I had hanging on the door “put that on first” her eyes went back to the body on her bed “hurry up” she pulled it on taping down the openings like I told her after also putting on booties and gloves then came in. together we wrapped the body she didn't complain as I instructed her on the best way to wrap so as to avoid seepage and so that we could carry the body with ease. Next was the mattress and all the coverings, she would need a new bed after this. Hell I’d even splurge and buy her one for being such a good sport about this even if I was the one doing her the big ass favor here. As night fell we moved everything out to my car. The mattress fit, just barely. Everything else pilled in on top. Going back to clean, her carpet was ripped up, that would be hard to explain to the parental unit but not as hard as the massive blood stain. Id get her a huge ass rug to cover the un-polished floor if I had to. The cleaning went on for hours the chemicals strong enough to make even my eyes water as we wiped every surface down three times over, just to be sure not a spot was missed. Only when I was satisfied did we stop, having worked until the wee hours of the morning. Feeling bone tired and seeing my sister was on the verge of passing out I considered letting her stay home to sleep in mum and dads bed for a few hours while I took out the trash but she insisted on coming with me as we that’s when the conversation I didn’t really want to have came. I should have known “how do you know how to do this?” I sighed wondering how much to tell her, if I even should tell her knowing that after the trauma of tonight wore off or at least dulled a bit she would come to see me in a new light. I’d no longer be the weird annoying big brother, I’d be the killer big brother the freak. “I just do” I muttered hoping she would be satisfied with the answer and let it go at that but no she was a girl she wanted to talk about her feelings and all that shit. I ignored the next few questions as the spic finally turned to why she had done it. I had expected the answer to be he had hit her, had hurt her in some other way, maybe even tried to rape her but no instead she admitted that she has had these feelings for a while now. She would break up with boyfriends when the desire to kill them got to great but tonight something had snapped and the knife she kept sandwiched between her baseboard and mattress had ended up in her hand while she had been making out with her latest guy. Before she knew it the blade was in his flesh “it was so easy” I nodded understanding “and the blood, so much blood” she sighed making me look at her because I knew that sigh had made that sigh myself a few times “I should have planned better” she admitted after several minuets of driving in silence “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up to help me bro” I rolled my eyes knowing what would have happened. She would have done a crap job of cleaning up. Mum and dad would have come home. Eventually the smell of blood rotting in her mattress and carpet would have stunk out the whole house just as an investigation on the disappearance of the boy really truly began. One cop showing up just for a chat would have been enough for them to be suspicious and she would be taken in for questioning. Things would only go down hill for her from there. “yeah you should have planned better” I said “but I can teach you that” the words slipped out before I really thought it through “really?” I could hear the hope in her voice and knew I had to follow through now with my promise “yeah” “wicked” the word made me smirk “yeah we are” reaching out to turn the music on because I didn't want to talk any more 'bad to the bone' came on making me roll my eyes and my sister laugh aloud “how appropriate” she commented turning it up so the base boomed, wasn’t it just, I thought.


A Little Secret "So? Can you keep a secret?" Eddie asked me again, as I sat, puzzled, wondering why he was so excited. I felt apprehensive at first. Eddie was 15 now, always busy with friends or track practice or some girl. He rarely wanted anything to do with his little 8-year-old brother anymore, so this visit to my room in the middle of the night was more than a little suspicious. "Um," I hesitated, sitting up in bed and looking around the shadowed bedroom, "I guess so," I finally mumbled as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "C'mon, put your shoes on!" Eddie said in a tone that was somewhere between a whisper and a shout, "You gotta see this!" He hopped to his feet and tossed my sneakers into my lap. "Ok, ok," I said, pushing the words past a yawn, "I'm comin'," I put my shoes on and tightened the velcro straps, then tucked Bear back into the bed with one of my pillows so that it looked like I was still sleeping, just in case Mom came in. Satisfied with my decoy, I followed Eddie out into the hall. The house was dark, illuminated only by the warm orange glow of the streetlight outside, and the occasional flash of lightning. I had always loved storms. There was something calming about the steady pitter patter of heavy rain on the roof. Even the distant rumble of thunder somehow soothed my senses. Mom said I had an old soul. I'm not really sure what that means though. "C'mon, dude!" Eddie whispered and hurried me, still only half awake, past Mom and Dad's room, down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Can't it wait till tomorrow?" I griped, "I'm so tired," "No way!" Eddie replied, barely able to contain himself, "you gotta see this, dude. You're not gonna believe it!" He crept across the kitchen and opened the pantry door. I stared quietly as he emptied out the lower shelf, depositing cans of beans and corn on the floor. He waved me over with a hand and I crouched next to him. "Look!" Eddie instructed, pointing excitedly into the pantry. I peered quizzically at him for a moment. He must be going crazy, I thought, but decided to humor him. I got down on my hands and knees and looked inside. "Is-" I stammered over a sense of awe, "Is that a door?" "Mhm!" Eddie replied excitedly, "Touch the knob!" "Are you sure we should-" "Just do it!" He urged. "Ok," I said with a shrug and reached down into the back of the pantry, past an old bundle of shopping bags and a long abandoned spiderweb. My arm was just barely long enough and I strained to reach the tiny door. As soon as my fingertip brushed against the cool brass of the knob, I was somewhere else. Except I wasn't. I was in the pantry, standing in front of a large wooden doorway, with dusty, worn hinges and a brass doorknob. I turned around and dropped to the floor just as a colossal hand soared over my head. I looked up again, and to my surprise, it was gone. In its place, stood Eddie, still wearing his red flannel pajamas and white sneakers. "Eddie?" I jumped to my feet, "What's going on?!" "C'mon," Eddie ordered, waving over his shoulder for me to follow as he approached the door. I looked longingly at the enormous cans of corn outside the now cavernous pantry. Trembling slightly, I followed Eddie to the door. "Go on, dude," He said, looking at me expectantly and gesturing to the shiny brass doorknob, "Go inside! I'll be right behind ya, promise." He thrust his hand out toward me, pinky out. I wrapped my pinky around his and we shook. Feeling reassured, if only slightly, I reached for the knob. The moment I turned it, I was somewhere else. I stood in the center of a wide circle of massive stones. Birds chirped a happy melody and the sun shone brightly on my face through the verdant canopy of leaves above me. The same wooden door, with the same dusty hinges and the same brass knob stood behind me, just out of arm's reach. Suddenly, there was a flash of golden light and a familiar looking man dressed head to toe in shining silver armor appeared next to me. He looked a lot like Eddie, except his raven hair was longer, his piercing blue eyes were more fierce and determined, and a short beard wrapped around his squared jaw. "Hey, little brother!" The knight exclaimed with a wave, "You're taller!" "Huh?" I mumbled looking down at my feet. I was dressed in armor too, and much taller than I had been a second ago. I reached up and touched my face. "Whoa! I have a beard?" "Yup!" Eddie said with a laugh, "You're a knight like me! This is awesome! C'mon!" "Eddie wait!" I called after him as he ran off into the woods, "Where are we!?" A sudden scream somewhere in the distance stopped any answer from coming. Eddie sprinted off in the direction of the scream and a knot began to form in my throat. I chased Eddie through the brush for some time before coming to the edge of a clearing where he crouched, hiding behind an ancient looking oak. "Let's go home," I whispered as I crept up beside him, but he was staring intently into the clearing. I followed his gaze to a woman dressed in a beautiful azure ball gown with a river of golden curls cascading down her shoulders. She screamed again and I saw it. Scattered around the clearing were a dozen or more statues of soldiers clutching spears and shields, and at the center of the stone battlefield loomed a large figure. It had the body of a woman, supported by a serpent's tail covered in glittering green and black scales rather than legs. Even from a distance I could see the slitted, snake-like yellow eyes glaring at the woman in the dress. "We gotta help her!" Eddie said and charged from our hiding place before I could object. "I am Ser Edward!" He roared as he charged the creature, his sword drawn, "and you will not harm this innocent woman, monster!" The creature hissed and snapped its gaze in Eddie's direction just as he raised his sword to strike. Eddie stopped dead and my breath caught in my throat. I watched in abject terror as my older brother turned to stone just as the soldiers must have moments before. The creature loomed over the statue of Eddie, running a slender, clawed finger along his petrified chest. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe as I watched the monster slither over to the horrified woman in blue, snatch her from the ground and dart off with her screaming into the woods on the other side of the clearing. I just sat there for what felt like an eternity. I couldn't bring myself to stand. This couldn't be real, could it? Finally, I willed myself to my feet and ran over to Eddie. I stared into his face, perfectly carved from smooth gray stone, his fierce eyes staring blankly into the distance, and began sobbing. I didn't know what else to do. I glanced back in the direction of the magic door with the brass knob. I could go home. This was probably all a bad dream anyway. No, I decided. I was a knight and that woman in the blue dress still needed saving. "I'll find a way to save you, Eddie," I whispered to the statue of my big brother, "I'll find a way, promise," After a few hours of wandering around the woods, trying to figure out a way to find the monster, I came upon a village nestled against the foothills of a mountain. A tall gray tower poked out from a forest of thatched roofs and stone chimneys. Streamers of smoke whisped their way up to the sky, and pleasant sounds and smells drew me closer. As I approached the gate at the edge of the village, I was stopped by a pair of gruff looking men wearing loose fitting shirts of chain and bronze helmets. Each man clutched a spear tightly as they approached. "'Scuse me, Ser knight," said the man on the left, "have ye come t' answer the lord's call t' arms?" "I, er," I stammered, "Call to arms?" "Aye!" The other guard replied, "Lord Ricard Reinhardt the Third o' Ravenswood calls upon all brave an' mighty warriors o' the realm to slay the evil beast that has plagued our village for decades!" "I guess so," I said with a shrug. They had to be talking about the same monster right? "Then head on up to the Lord's Hall!" Said the first guard. "Straight up da main road an' up da hill," said the man on the right, "can't miss it," It was not a long walk from the main gate to the Lord's Hall, and it was not a difficult place to find, being the largest building in town aside from the stone tower. The smell of roasted turkey filled my nostrils as the door swung open in front of me and a loud rumble escaped my belly. The hall was full to bursting with people. There were knights in shining armor, warriors with horned helms, and hunters covered head to toe in animal furs. Everyone wanted a chance to slay the monster. "My Lords!" A loud, deep voice boomed over the din of the feast as I found an empty seat, "My Lords! Your attention, please!" The hall went silent. The feasting stopped and everyone found a seat leaving only one man standing. He was a large man, as tall as he was wide. He wore a long crimson drape over a fine suit of armor inlaid with gold and jewels. His bushy salt and pepper beard was braided at the end and a golden crown rested atop his ebony hair. "Thank you all for coming here tonight!" The man exclaimed with his arms outstretched to the crowd, "I come to you seeking your aid, and bearing grave news! My daughter, Liliana, was taken from me this day by the very beast, which I have called you here to slay! The time for action is now, my friends. I offer his weight in gold and silver to the man who returns my daughter to me, along with her hand! Go forth, warriors of the realm. Slay the beast which no man can slay, and return to me, a son!" The crowd of warriors jumped to their feet and rushed for the doors, pushing and shoving their way out of the hall. Every one of them was eager to complete the Lord's quest and win his daughter's hand in marriage. I rose quietly to my feet once the rush subsided and walked outside into the crisp evening air. I knew the monster couldn't be killed. They would all turn to stone, and I couldn't help them. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I thought of poor Eddie, still standing in that clearing. "Pst," a sound came from behind me, followed by a tap on my shoulder. I whipped around and came face-to-face with a scrawny old man sporting a bushy gray beard and wearing a silly pointed hat and matching robe. "Yeah?" I said, looking around for someone else he may have me mistaken for, "do you need something?" "I can help you," the old man offered proudly, "Come, come, my boy. Follow me!" He continued muttering inaudibly under his breath as he stalked off. With a shrug, I followed. We arrived at the foot of the stone tower at the center of town minutes later and the old man produced a big brass key. He inserted it into the tower door and it swung open silently. He waved me in and I cautiously followed up a long spiraling staircase that seemed to go on forever. When we finally reached the top, I followed him into a circular room filled with all sorts of strange objects, colorful vials and flasks, and an assortment of swords, bows, shields, and staves. It smelled like Grandma's house which put me oddly at ease. The old man scurried across the room, leaving me gaping at his collection of curios, and began digging through a rough wooden chest. "Aha!" He exclaimed moments later and rushed back across the room, clutching a small round shield. He thrust it into my hands with an expectant smile. It looked like an ordinary shield, too small to cover even my whole torso, except for one detail: its face was a polished silver so clear that it could have been a mirror. I looked up at the old man as I realized how to defeat the monster, except the man was gone, and so was his tower. Instead, I stood at the mouth of a cave. An old fort stood, partially collapsed, inside the cave, its portcullis open and its halls dark. Thunder rumbled. I looked down at the shield still clutched in my hands and, with a swell of determination, I strode inside, my sword drawn and my nerves steeled. It did not take long for me to find the rest of the warriors that had so valiantly charged up the mountain to face the creature. They stood all around me, silent and still as stone. They had already failed. I searched the ground floor of the keep and quickly found a way up to the upper level where I was greeted by the soft orange flicker of candle light creeping out from beneath a heavy door. I carefully pushed the door open and crept inside. The room was elegantly furnished. A large bed covered in silken sheets stood at its center. The woman in the blue dress sat, peacefully brushing her golden hair, at the far end of the room. Beside her stood a single statue of a man, frozen in fear with one arm back as though he was shielding some invisible companion. The floor creaked as I stepped into the room and the woman, Liliana, spun around to face me. "You should not be here!" She said in a half whisper, concern growing on her face as she eyed my shield. Before I could even think about responding, a hiss sounded from the doorway. I ducked and rolled backwards, just as a scaly, clawed hand sailed through the space my face had just occupied. I jumped to my feet and instinctively parried another blow with my blade. Without meeting the monster's gaze, I raised my shield and held my breath. No attack came. I heard a gasp followed by a soft sob and the crumbling of stone. I peered up from behind my shield and gaped. Liliana sat sobbing in the arms of a man before the unmoving monster. The man, I realized, had been the statue standing on the opposite end of the room just moments ago. The monster was now the one that was made of stone. "She was my mother," Liliana sobbed, gently running a finger over the creature's petrified scales, "cursed to live as a monster and turn men's hearts as cold as stone by a jealous witch who was in love with my father. You did what had to be done," She wiped a little river of tears from her cheek, "The curse is finally broken, and I have my Erik back," Liliana smiled up at the man holding her. "Thank you, Hero," He said, but I was not listening, I was already running. I ran as fast as I could, out of the fort, down the mountainside and back to the clearing in the woods. Eddie was still there, kneeling in a pile of crumbled stone at the center of a circle of confused soldiers. I sprinted to his side and wrapped him in my arms. "I thought I lost you, big brother," I mumbled past tears and sobs of joy, "I thought I lost you," After I explained what had happened, Eddie and I made our way back to the door in the woods with the dusty hinges and the brass knob, and went home. When I awoke, I was in my bed again, Bear clutched tightly between my arms. Had it all been a dream? I rolled off the bed and planted my feet on the floor. Why was I wearing my shoes? I took them off and went downstairs for breakfast, eyeing the pantry warily as I hugged Mom and Dad good morning. Then I saw Eddie, already at the table with his bowl of cereal, flash me a sly wink and a smile, and knew. It was real. It was all real! Years passed, and Eddie and I shared many more secret adventures together in the magic world hidden in our pantry behind the tiny door with the dusty hinges and the brass knob. We slayed dragons and saved kingdoms. We met fairies and elves and goblins. Eventually Eddie and I both moved away and I forgot about the little door until the night of my son's 10th birthday. My new family and I had just moved back to the old house the week before, and that night, at midnight, I slid carefully from my bed, careful not to wake my wife as she slept peacefully beside me. I crept out of our new room, once my parents room, and down the hall. I slowly opened the door to my son's room and crouched beside his bed. "Pst, Lucas, wake up," I whispered, gently shaking him awake with an excited smile plastered on my face. He stirred and looked up at me, puzzled. "What is it, dad," he mumbled as he rubbed sleep away from his eyes.


As I approached the tall office building I suddenly felt unnervingly overwhelmed. The only job I had ever worked was at a small local diner, which got me through my awkward high school years and my slightly less awkward college years. The diner was friendly and familiar, which was drastically disparate to intimidating building I was approaching. The interview I endured to acquire this secretary position took place in a coffee shop, ironically right next door the diner that I had just quit 3 days before the interview. That being said, I was unaware of the massiveness of the building I would be working with. I did not think I could ever be more nervous than I was for my interview, but as I neared the entrance, I was. Just as this realization crossed my mind, I felt drops of a hot liquid splatter onto my pantyhose clad feet. My hands were anxiously shaking, causing my coffee to spill over and stain my brand new pants. Working in a diner for so many years, I did not own any professional clothing, meaning the stain was rather devastating. I shook it off and tried to think of a less embarrassing explanation for the stain as I opened the door to the my new place of employment. I was still a half an hour early, so I knew I would have time to search for my desk. When I received the call informing me that I had gotten the job, my boss told me that I would be on the 12th floor right next to the coffee machine, and that he was confident I wouldn't miss it. If only he knew of my absentmindedness, he would not be so confident in that assumption. The unclear knowledge of where my desk was furthered my anxiety, the only saving grace being that I was early, which allowed some time for inevitable error. As I was calming down, I noticed I was receiving some odd stares from workers getting ready for their day. I wondered to myself whether these stares were because I was new and unrecognizable, or because of the dreaded coffee stain that was now set into my clothing. I hoped it was the first thought. I decided that just in case it was the latter, I would find the restroom and try to eliminate the stain. I followed the signs to the restroom, where I quickly entered the ladies room. After a few minutes of a scrubbing and drying process, I got the stain to be faint enough to go unnoticed by others. I left the bathroom and started towards the elevator, as I knew 12 floors of stairs would be an awful way to start a Monday morning. I pressed the button with the arrow pointing up on the elevator and nervously waited for the doors to open. As I waited, I responded to a text from my mother that wished me good luck. Her excitement from hearing that I got the job quickly faded when she remembered I had no experience in this field, and that I was notorious for messing things up before they began. While these were valid feelings on her part, it made me even more nervous. I was determined to prove to myself, and my mother, that I could do this. The elevator doors opened and I stepped in alone, as I was early and most people would be arriving for another 15 minutes. As the elevator started moving, I checked my phone for the time to confirm that I was still early. The lights suddenly flickered off, my phone being the only source of light in the small elevator. My heart beat quickened and I began feeling panicked. After what seemed like five minutes, but was really only a couple seconds, the lights flickered back on, and I took a deep breath in relief. The relief quickly faded when I realized the elevator still wasn't moving. I tried to think calmly of a solution. Should I press the emergency button, or would the elevator start moving again at any second? I did not want to press a noisy alarm button if it was unnecessary, as it was so early. That was not the first impression that I intended to have. I decided to call the receptionist of the office building, as I noticed she was already there when I arrived. The phone did not even ring before it went to the automated voice message, meaning the phones must have still been down. I sighed in defeat, knowing I would have to press the noisy alarm. I pressed the button, but no noise sounded from it. I then started to panic again when I realized that nobody had any way of knowing I was stuck in there. I knew people would be arriving soon, and realize the elevator was not working, but that left me with almost 15 minutes of being stuck in there. I did not know until now that I had, what seemed to be severe, claustrophobia. My chest felt so tight, which combined with my shallow breathing, leaving me in a pitiful mess of hysterics. I was trying to take deep breaths, but the effort was useless. The sound of my phone ringing made me jump, it was my boss. I whispered a bleak "Hello," as it was all I could muster in the midst of my claustrophobia episode. He hastily responded, concern filling her voice, "Monica, the receptionist saw you get in the elevator and contacted me on my personal phone I warned her you would be coming today in case you had any questions. Are you okay? The power went out which stopped the elevators." His words spilled out so quickly, I barely had time to comprehend what he was saying before he was finished. "Um, I am freaking out a little bit, but I am still eager to start my day!" I tried to sound as cheerful and grateful as I could, given the circumstances. He laughed and told me that maintenance was on the way to get me out, and to be patient, then hung up. I waited for about 20 minutes, when I started hearing some banging from below me. According to a movie I had seen, the elevator mechanics were in the basement, below the elevator, so this was a good sign. I tried calling to them, but got no response. I was calmed down, as I knew I would be out soon. I started thinking about what an embarrassing first day this would be, and how I would be able to concentrate on learning what the new job entailed after such a stressful and slightly traumatic morning. Just as I was thinking this the elevator shifted a bit, and starting moving normally. I was so relieved and grateful that the experience was coming to an end. As the elevator doors open, I was thinking about how the day could not get any worse. I lifted my head to exit the elevator and stopped when I saw him. I prayed to be back on the elevator, trapped.


TW: Swearing and gore. Danielle had fought monsters before. Compared to the giant beast before her the rest were harmless flies. “I guess this is how I’ll die,” the knight said to herself. She inhaled deeply. Blood rained from the red sky. The breeze from the monster’s mighty wings flapping chilled her bones. Scorpion legs that could carry a castle scuttled towards her. “Prove me wrong again, little knight,” said the herald of a hateful god. “Kill this beast and I will tell you my name.” His melodic voice had lost the hints of scorn. She wondered if he was only saying it because he expected her to die. “This is a greater chatter-jaw?” Sir Danielle Longbow asked. Her voice rose in pitch and volume. Her heart thundered a drumroll in fear. Four snapping jaws mounted on tentacles snapped at her. Little black eyes ringed each jaw. Being anywhere near the mouths was suicide. Tentacles uncoiled from behind the snapping jaws. Teeth unfolded along the length of each tentacle. Each one was a saw the size of a tree. Every tooth was the length of Danielle’s sword. “Yeah. I’m fucked.” She darted her head around to look at the devil who’d challenged her to fight monsters. He hovered in a throne of carved wood behind her. His silver eyes reflected her and the looming doom of the beast. His bone-white skin gave no hint of age. “Any tips?” Danielle asked him. “None of my people has ever defeated a greater chatter-jaw before,” he said as she turned back. A clawing tentacle lunged at her. Danielle danced back from it. “Then why the fuck do I have to fight one? It looks like my worst nightmares had children with fly-covered leftovers at a fish market.” She struck a tentacle lined on one side with the deadly spines. Her sword left a gash in the tentacle that would be a mortal wound for anything smaller than a bear. The creature made a horrible hissing noise and rushed forwards. Two jaws snapped at her as muscular tendrils encircled her. “You must fight it because you overcame your last three challenges,” said the deadly god’s herald. Danielle ran through the tentacles as her guide through hell spoke. “I never expected you to come this far.” Her sword pressed along the thick hide of the monster’s belly. The blade she had sharpened to a razor’s edge that morning barely left a mark. “I am bound by the deal we made and my duty to my god,” said the pale herald. “I must give you a challenge you could not reasonably be expected to survive. Three times I have. Three times you have triumphed.” His voice was undiminished by Danielle’s cry of pain as a spine from one tentacle punched through a gap in her armour. Burning pain blossomed in her left armpit. “You have earned my respect, Sir Longbow.” Tails tipped with spikes a spear would envy stabbed at her. She cut at one. Her sword damaged the limb that was as thick as her mighty arms. The tail withdrew. The beast turned with her beneath. Still the herald spoke with a voice that was a balm to her mind, “with my respect comes greater challenge. Slay five monsters to save Crann Kingdom from my god’s wrath for a millennium. That was the deal.” Sir Danielle could barely move her left arm. Clutching her shield close to her chest, she tested a leg of the beast. The sword clanged against the black articulated chitin as though it was rock. She looked for a weakness in the join. As the leg bent to trample her Danielle thrust her sword into a gap. The leg lurched out of the way. The monster tried to shake her free. Her sword was stuck fast in the joint. She could hear moist cutting sounds as the monster’s own movements severed muscles. At last, hanging from the sword, it came free. Ignoring everything but those same joints on the other legs, Danielle ran to each. One after the other she hobbled the greater chatter-jaw. Twelve legs winced as her sword slipped between its armour. The spike which had pierced her underarm had not reached her heart. It had damaged nerves. Blood was dribbling from the wound. Adrenaline could not cover the agony. Tentacles came for her. Most had a slash through the rings of black eyes that circled the claws at the tip. Danielle was knocked flat by a slashing line of teeth hitting her in the chest. Knowing she’d have bruises if she survived, she slammed into the ground. Then the beast came down on whatever passed for its knees. Sir Longbow leapt for empty space, not wanting to be stuck beneath it. Her shield fell away during the dive. The mouths of the thing faced her. There was no escaping them. She heard the wooden clapping sound that gave the beast its name. She jumped into the maw of the horrid thing. Acrid odours of stomach acid made her want to gag. She dragged her sword along the inside of its throat. She scored a deep line through pulsing flesh in the dark. The tube rose vertically, trying to drop her down into its stomach. Danielle threw her weight behind a stab. She held onto the handle of the slick blade. Roaring shook every fibre of her body. She was dizzy from the smell. The long neck slammed down, trying to shake lose the splinter that was cutting it up from within. Danielle’s sword slipped from her fingers. Thrown flat against the wet walls of the throat, she looked around for the sword. A pale glimmer in the dark as the chatter-jaw’s mouth opened was all she needed. She dived for the sword. Both slid down the throat as the neck rose again. Covered in drool and bile she slid down at breakneck speed. Her sword punched through flesh as she tried to anchor herself. Nothing stuck as she plunged from darkness towards death. Danielle seemed to double in weight. Bobbing in the air, she realised the beast was flying. Air rushed in through the open jaw. A fresh breeze was welcome. The long fall was not. The chatter-jaw rolled in the air. Sir Longbow’s gloved hands could not grip the handle of her sword. She hit the top of the throat and slid back to the bottom as the roll slowed. Other beasts flapped through the air. She saw them through the open maw. Predators come to finish her work picked at the greater chatter jaw. She knew that if they killed it her fight would be for nothing. Only she was allowed to stop the beast’s heart if she wanted to go home. Pulling the sword free Danielle let herself slip further down the throat. The muscles contracted. Vomit hit her in a wave. Closing her eyes didn’t save her from the gunk filling her helmet. It soaked through everything she wore. Another beast the size of a dog flew in through the open mouth. Barely injured, the thing which had batlike wings attacked her. She cut it in half with a swipe before losing her feet. Gripping the sword for all she was worth she slid down and down. Seeing light from three other tubes, Danielle and the halves of the little monster fell into a chamber. A glowing eye watched her from above a sphincter of teeth. The eye was an orb big enough to fit her inside. The lost knight leapt for the eye. Eyelids thick as old leather closed. Danielle snuck her left hand between and held on as gravity betrayed her. The pain from her armpit told her she did not have long to live. “Please. Please. Just die.” The tip of her blade pierced the gelatinous surface which wept acid. Blood poured out. The glowing ooze slowly burnt her skin. Pushing the sword in and twisting it, she let go and grabbed the eyelid with her right hand. Both lids tried to crush her. It wept gore as she pushed inside. Light everywhere was useless to her except to outline her sword as a silhouette. The lids closed behind her, leaving her in the monster’s head. Slipping around inside, she gasped for oxygen. Her sword swung through the heavy gelatinous mass of the eye until the socket was leftovers. Everything else had been blinked away. A nerve hung in the socket. Danielle sheathed her sword and clambered up the optic nerve. Dizzy without enough air to survive she felt her muscles weaken. Danielle lifted her sword to the hole the width of her arm where the nerves went from the eye socket to the brain. Her world flipped as the beast fell through the sky. Upside down, her sword slipped from her hand. The blade dived into the mind of the monster. Hot knives cut butter well. A sword flung by gravity from the sky to the ground cuts a greater chatter-jaw’s brain almost as well. They hit the ground together. Danielle was cushioned in the mess of the monster’s inner eye and its brain. Knocked out by her own helmet, she was lost to black unconsciousness. Bleeding internally, the two raced each other towards death. The greater chatter jaw won the race by moments. With the duel done, the god’s herald split the beast in half with a blink. Lifting Sir Longbow from the mess he healed her wounds. “Well done, little knight. You win again.” His lily-white skin stroked her hand. The gore which had soaked her every garment vanished. With a snap of his fingers, he created a tower of granite. The granite like that of Crann, would keep the knight safe. In the tower’s bed he lay her down to rest. “My name is Obag Sleagh. It means magic spear.” She was fast asleep, so he sat with her and waited. It would be a day or two before she awoke. “Next, you’ll have to fight a dragon, little knight. It’s all I have left to throw at you.”


“Amber! Amber! You have to come see this!” Fredrick was paralyzed as he peered into his telescope, unable to decipher what it was that he saw. He had hoped that when he opened his present that he would see extraordinary things, but nothing prepared him for this. “Fredrick, you just set it up! Did you really find something?” Amber yelled as she came running through the back door, her strawberry blonde hair already in a bun ready to see what her little brother had found. “Mom said it’s time for cake, so we have to be fast!” Amber bent down to see, but with disappointment in her eyes she responded, “Freddy, there’s nothing here...” Frederick was in disbelief! How could she not see it? It was right in front of her eyes, clear as day! He pushed his sister to the side, she must not be looking in the right place, he thought. “How in the...” “FREDRICK! AMBER!” their mom shouted, “if you want a piece of cake you better get in here and blow out these candles!” As much as he wanted to stay and try to find where the mysterious object went, the thought of disappointing his mother who worked tirelessly all day on his special cake made him quickly return inside. “Find anything champ?” “Well I..” Amber quickly cut him off, “No grandpa, Freddie had me all excited to see something but when I looked there was nothing! Not even a star!” Fredrick rolled his eyes, he knew he saw something, he just wasn’t sure what it was, or how to explain it. “Mom, when I’m done with my cake, may I please go to the west hill?” He knew that asking would probably cause a big fight, but he had to try. His mom hasn't let him do very much after what had happened to their father. “Oh honey, you know I don’t like you going there. What if you get lost or hurt yourself? Or even worse, fall?” “Yeah but I’m 16 now. When will I be able to have a little freedom? Amber will come with me!” he pleaded, “Please, I just want to check out my new telescope, and I think all the city lights are making it hard to see things.” He hoped that somehow this would convince his mom. “Fine. But you need to be home by 11. And be careful!” their mom said anxiously. Fredrick grabbed his telescope while Amber got her keys. Her beat up pickup truck whined as they made their way up the west hill. The same hill that their dad had driven up the night he disappeared. Although it was over a year ago Fredrick remembered every part of that night. The phone rang, Mrs. Hinderson wiped her hands from making dinner. “Hello, yes, this is Mrs. Hinderson speaking... you’re sure of it? Oh my... NO!” the phone slipped through her hands as she let out a scream. Frederick rushed away from his homework to grab his mother off the floor. “Mom. What is it? What happened?” he begged for an answer, but through all the tears his mother was only able to mutter to get in the car. He rushed to find Amber but in the panic of it all he had forgotten that she was at the movies with her new boyfriend. By the time he got his shoes on his mom was already in the car waiting. They sped through town headed towards the hill, not stopping at any of the stop lights and flying through stop signs. “Mom, you’re scaring me... is it dad?” She nodded. Tears started to stream down Fred’s face. He didn't know what happened but he expected the worst. They finally started up the hill when they saw the lights, flashing like fireworks on the 4th of July. He grabbed his mom’s hand. “Whatever happens mom, I’ll be here for you, always.” Once they got to the top they were able to park and see what was going on. “He was standing here,” the officer pointed to where you could still see the impression of shoe prints on the ground. “That couple over there said he was standing in this spot for nearly an hour, just staring at the sky. They um... they said it looked like something pulled him over the edge... we have a crew down there looking for him.” Fredrick’s mom didn’t speak. She just stared at his dad's empty shoe prints. So he started asking all the questions he could, “What do you mean pulled him? Don’t you mean jumped? Why was he here for an hour? Did they see anything in the sky?” “Are you thinking about him?” Amber asked, already knowing the answer. This was the first time Fredrick had permission to come up here. Even though she knew he would sneak up here when their mom went to bed. The warm New Mexico air pushed his red hair out of his face as he held his head out the window. “Mhmm...” he responded, knowing he was going to be lectured once again about investigating his fathers disappearance. “Freddy... you know there was nothing in the sky, dad just had problems. You have to understand that by now. I know you are desperate for answers but what are you even going to look for with that telescope? All you're going to find is-” “Look,” Frederick interrupted, “You and mom have your way of coping and that's great. But I want answers.” Before his sister could say anything else he quickly got out of the truck and carried his telescope over to where the officer showed him his father last stood. Amber followed behind, worried about her brother. “You shouldn't let this consume you. I know you miss him, we all do! I hate to see you like this!” Fredrick didn't listen to his sister's words. He knew one thing was for sure, he saw something, and he was about to prove it. “Here, now look,” he whispered as if it could hear him. “I told you I saw something.” Once again, Amber bent down to see what it was her brother saw, or what he thought he was seeing. Except this time she saw it, and she couldn’t believe she was seeing it. “How is this even possible?” “We have to do something! We need to find help! Come on!” Frederick was yelling as he was running towards the truck leaving his sister and new present behind. “Freddy stop! We don’t even know what it is!” Amber looked one more time, trying to figure out what it was she was looking at, “Are those? Are those panels?” she questioned, unable to believe the words were even coming out of her mouth. They both stared at the sky trying to figure out what it was that they were seeing. Amber slowly walked up to the edge of the hill, reaching her arm out. “Amber, don’t touch-” before Fredrick could even get his next word out, his sister was gone. Then it clicked. This is what happened to his dad. His dad, and whoever else has gotten close to this thing. He realized they were being kept inside this wall... or dome... whatever it was, the more he looked around the more it made sense. The stars were a pattern, repeated over and over all around him, the clouds never changing. How do I explain this? How do I tell mom? OH NO, MOM! How am I supposed to tell mom about Amber? First dad now her? He knew somehow, some way, he had to figure out how to get his sister and father back. He wasn't going to stop searching until he figured it out. Although he had driven around town with his mom, his sister's old rust bucket wasn’t the easiest to maneuver. As best as he could, he sped home, trying to figure out the right words to tell his mom, “hey mom, good news and bad news. The good news is, I know what happened to dad. Bad news, it happened to Amber, so she's gone now too. And we live in a giant hamster ball, that has sucked who knows how many people out to god knows where.” he frantically said to himself. Stupid, he thought, I sound so stupid. No matter how many times he practiced he knew he sounded crazy, and there was no way his mom was going to believe him. He pulled into his sister's normal parking spot, tears filling up his eyes, Amber. It really hadn’t hit him that his sister was gone, really gone, until now. He wiped his tears and was about to open the door when it suddenly opened. His mother was standing there with an eerie grin, “Fredrick, you’re home early,” she said. “Mom, you’re not going to believe what I have to... tell... you...?” his voice trailed off. “Uh mom? What’s going on?” He walked into his living room to see an overdressed man sitting on their couch with four uniformed men sitting around him. “Who are you?” “Hey Fred,” his grandpa said sternly, “Why don’t you go up to your room.” Frederick couldn't believe what he was hearing. It’s like they didn’t even notice that Amber wasn’t with him. The men in uniforms quickly stood, blocking whatever was on the table so he couldn’t see as he walked by. He stomped around upstairs, trying to sound as if he was in his room. Quickly and as quietly as he could, he tiptoed down a couple stairs and sat. “I thought you said this wouldn’t happen again.” the man whispered, “First your husband, now your daughter? Your family can't help but to put their noses where they don't belong! Care to explain why there’s only supposed to be one door to go in and out of, and for some reason now there's two? You're working against us.” “Excuse me, General. But we have a deal.” Fredrick had never heard his mother speak with such authority. “It’s you and your officer's job to make sure no one gets close enough to the wall to get pulled out. I haven’t Figured out how to fix that weak spot with the resources I have. And until I get it fixed it's your responsibility to keep these people in here! Now that Amber is gone I’m going to have to figure out what my next steps are for this experiment.” “Don’t act like you're out of options!” “That’s enough!” Fredricks grandpa bellowed, tired of the back and forth. He tilted his head towards the stairs. The men quickly stood and headed Fredricks way. Oh crap, he thought as he saw them getting closer and closer. He jumped up and ran to his room, piling up anything he could to block the door. He grabbed his book bag and started throwing whatever he could fit in there. She knew, all this time she knew what happened to dad, what we were living inside of. What did she need with Amber? What kind of experiment was this? “Freddy dear, why don’t you come out so we can talk about what you heard.” Mrs. Hinderson said sweetly. And even though all he wanted was a hug after everything that happened, Fredrick knew just where he needed to go and how he was getting there. Amber’s old truck screamed as Fredrick hit the gas, trying to get up the hill as fast as he could. He saw lights starting to flash behind him. He finally reached the top, his telescope still standing at the last place he saw his sister. He wasn't sure if this was going to work but he had to try, he had to get out if he was going to be able to reunite with his sister and stop his mother. He put his foot on the pedal and slammed it to the floor, the tires squealed as they spun on the pavement. He closed his eyes as the truck lept from the hill into the air, a flash of light and he was gone. The officers' cars skidded to a stop, their lights still flashing lighting up the trees around them. Mrs. Hinderson got out of one of one of the cars, dropping to her knees. “Dammit.” she sobbed.


“Are you coming tonight?” “Sarah...” “No. I will not take no for an answer. Enough is enough, okay? I gave you a few days to cry and stay in bed in sweatpants and eat pizza, and now it’s over. Get up!” “That was harsh,” I say as I drag my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. Sarah has her arms crossed at this point, and I stare daggers at her fingers tapping against her upper arm. “I’m going.” “Go faster,” she says as she grabs my arm and pulls me off the bed. “We are going to have a great time tonight!” I feel like she’s staring into my soul, trying to spread some sunshine in there. “How am I supposed to have a good time? Seriously, Sarah, it’s only been a few days, and I’m still really upset about how everything went down.” I think back to the horrible drunk break up text I got on Wednesday night from Ryan and involuntarily shudder. I see her eyes soften as she pulls me into a hug. “I know, I’m sorry, Rach.” I blink to keep the tears from falling down my cheeks. I haven’t cried yet today, and I want to keep it that way, especially if Sarah is dragging me out tonight. She pulls back to look at me again. “But we are going to have fun tonight! And no one we know will even be there; it’s just all my boss’s friends.” I walk over to my closet. “So I shouldn’t wear my bright orange dress with the plunging neckline?” Sarah laughs and just says, “Please don’t. We have to leave at 6 on the dot, okay?” “Got it. I’ll be ready at 6:30,” I wink at her. “Not funny!” she calls over her shoulder as she shuts my door behind her. *** “I’m ready! 5:55 FYI!” I smirk. “I’m just glad you seem to be in a better mood now,” I link my arm with Sarah’s. “Fake it ‘till you make it, right?” I ask. Sarah nods, and we’re out the door. Of course her boss sent a huge limo for us to go to the party in. Sarah has been working for some talent agency in downtown LA basically the entire time we’ve been in school, and this year she got to start going to parties. When she agreed to go to her first one though, she didn’t know it also involved getting to ride in a limo every single time. Rachel usually went with her so she would have someone to talk to while her boss networked with everyone. Honestly, there didn’t seem much point for Sarah to be there, but neither of them were complaining, especially not when the driver informed them there was chilled champagne waiting for them in the back. “Cheers!” “To what?” I ask. “Who cares?” She downs her first glass in one. I shrug and follow suit. We’re each three glasses in by the time we pull up to the party. We get out and follow the horde of people toward the giant white mansion ahead. “Does President Snow live here?” Sarah asks and then nearly falls over laughing. “You’re such a light weight,” I playfully shove her, but then have to grab her arm when she almost falls over again. “Shit, sorry.” We’re both laughing like idiots so loudly that people are starting to stare at us. “Shhh. We have to get it together in case we run into your boss in here.” “I know, I know. I’ll be fine by the time we get inside.” It takes forever for us to get inside. Even when we’re through the gate, there’s a long line, and we have to give our names at the door before we can cross the threshold. Shockingly, Sarah holds it together until we get inside and she says, “Let’s go to the bar.” I just roll my eyes and follow her; I’m not here to impress anyone. “Can I get two margaritas, please?” Sarah asks. I see the bartender frantically nod. These parties are always crazy. Sarah turns to me. “So, let’s get to it. We need to find you someone to hook up with.” My eyeballs nearly pop out of my head. “What? No.” She just keeps looking at me. “No, I’m not hooking up with anybody. Not yet, anyway. Will you stop looking at me like that?!” “I’m just saying. We’re here. There are a bunch of hot celebrities...” “Did you just wiggle your eyebrows at me? Maybe I should drink both of these margaritas,” I say as the bartender puts them in front of us. “Don’t you dare touch mine!” She laughs as she grabs hers and takes a big drink, but it gets stuck to the napkin. Mine does the same, so I pull it off and put it back on the bar. “Oh. My. God.” I put my drink down. “What?” She smirks. “What’s that on your napkin?” I look down. “Did you do this?” I ask it like I’m joking, but I’m kind of annoyed. “Does that look like my number?” “You could’ve put the bartender up to it,” I whisper since he’s only a few feet away from us. “When would I have done that? Just look around the bar; try and see who it is.” “Fine.” I scan the row of people around the bar, and sure enough, some guy across from us raises his glass at me. I quickly turn back around to Sarah, “That must be him.” I take a giant sip of my drink. “Oh. My. God.” “Can you please stop saying that?” “Sorry, but do you know who that is?” I can’t even count how many times Sarah asks me that during these parties. “No...” She rolls her eyes and then says, “It’s Gavin Raye!” I must still have a blank look on my face because she elaborates. “The new singer my boss is representing? He just had a huge single come out! Oh my God you have to go over to him.” Sarah starts to grab her drink like she’s going to walk over there, so I grab her wrist so she can’t pick it up. “No. No way. I’m not talking to anyone. I’m not ready! So stop asking!” I don’t mean to get so mad, especially since I know Sarah is only being pushy because she’s drunk. “Sorry,” she stares down at the bar and starts picking at the nail polish on her thumb. “No, I’m sorry. Look, let’s just forget about it, okay? Let’s go have a great time.” She smiles at me and holds out her arm. I link mine with hers, and we leave the bar without a second glance. *** It’s almost 4 a.m. by the time we get home. I certainly caught up with Sarah in terms of drinks as the night went on, so it takes me a couple of tries to get my key in the door. I cringe as I slam the door knob into the wall. Hopefully I didn’t just wake up our roommates. I don’t handle Jen well when I’m drunk. Once we make it in I lock the door again and half carry Sarah over to the couch where we sit down. We both bend over to take our shoes off at the same time and laugh as we struggle for way too long with the buckles. “Why do they make these things so damn complicated?” Sarah asks. It sets me off, and I can’t stop laughing, but I stop immediately when I see Sarah waving a napkin in front of my face. “When did you take that?” I ask. I’m only partially annoyed with her persistence at this point. “When you weren’t looking,” she laughs. “Come on, humor me, please!” “I am not texting him. You can take that napkin and throw it right in the trash.” “I dare you.” “Are you five?” I can’t help but laugh at her face; she looks so mischievous right now. “I’m not drunk texting some celebrity represented by your boss.” “Well you’re not going to text him sober either,” she says. We stare at each other for a solid ten seconds without saying anything. Finally, I cave. “Fine,” I pull out my phone. “What should I say?” Sarah gives me a huge smile and hands me the napkin.


Hey! I'm Harry Matthews, I'm a student writer from the UK. This is a story I wrote recently. I wanted to create a subtle sense of the supernatural without being too blatant and to try and write with a better balance between dialogue (which I often struggle with) and description (which comes more naturally). I hope you enjoy it! I'm not sure it's worth marking this story as "NSFW", although there is some violence/gore. ***SOOTHSLAYER*** “This is the place where I was killed”. His brow furrowed, dark eyes piercing the arid gloom of midnight. Strong, tan hands gripped a leather-bound scimitar at his waist. He gave the ancient soothsayer a grimace. “Finally, you decide to speak. Finally, and it is babble. Whatever value you possess to my Lord is beyond me.” She gave no reply. The creaking, decrepit woman gently toyed with a necklace of dyed beads, bones, and charms. She muttered almost silently, chapped lips barely moving. Zu’kuma sighed, broad shoulders slumping. He moved his gaze away from the deranged hag, out over the barren landscape before him. A few small dunes, dotted with gnarled bushes and great rocks worn smooth by wind-cast sand, sheltered Zu’kuma and the woman from the open desert. Luna’s facsimile half-light cast an exposing glare over the long expanses, but in the shadow of the dunes, Zu’kuma and his whispering partner sat, and took rest. The moon passed mutely above them. Nothing moved within Zu’kuma’s sight. He began to fidget. He stood, taking gentle steps in a wide circle around the woman. As his rested muscles started moving comfortably, his pace quickened to a brisk walk. He looked at the hag again. She hadn’t moved, but for her fiddling hands. “You are an intolerable presence; I must inform you.” Zu’kuma stopped walking, turning to face the woman as he spoke. “How is it that someone so silent, so still, can cause me such irritation? You make no sense, Oracle. I suspect many of the tales I was told of you are fantasy. Stealing you was little effort. Killing your guards was a pleasure.” He knelt, looking her in the eye. She did not return his gaze, still staring at the necklace that snaked between her fingers. “I cannot insult my master’s intelligence, but I believe you are a charlatan. The people of your country are maddened by hashish, yet somehow their fervor has spread into my Lord’s kingdom. I have seen the look in my master’s eye when he considers how he would use you.” The warrior’s head dropped slightly. His voice was flat. “I fear. I fear for him. I wonder what this madness you bring will inspire. He has such vision, and such damning ambitions.” He looked up at her. Her hair was a wild mess of thick braids and matted locks. Lice crawled visibly over her head, like ticks on a rancid dog. She was unbelievably frail. Zu’kuma had seen men starved to death who looked healthier than the Oracle. Zu’kuma sat down, legs folded in front of him, his sword laid flat on his lap. “How did you get to be this? What makes a woman into an Oracle? Was it the fumes? Were you struck as a child? Kicked by a horse? Are you simply insane?” Zu’kuma picked a small piece of wood from the sand by his feet. He eyed the finger-length piece of withered root. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the root towards the Oracle. It crossed the empty space between them and bounced silently off the soothsayers’ forehead. She did not flinch. She gave no reaction, and the imperceptible whispers that snuck between her lips did not stutter. Zu’kuma frowned. Then, aloud, the Oracle spoke again. “It won’t hurt.” Zu’kuma shuffled and got to his feet. “It *didn’t* hurt, you senseless witch. How should any master seek to find reason in the fetid babble of your mewling tongue?” The warrior fastened his sword to his waist and took several heavy steps away from the woman. “You enrage me.” The words seethed like boiling mist running through teeth set as row of spears. “I shall count myself lucky if you do not survive our journey, though I am sure to be - “ Zu’kuma froze for a moment, his hunter’s eyes seeking movement in the dark. A flicker of shadow, a displacement of sand with no wind. Zu’kuma dropped, his legs bent beneath him. He curled his head into his chest as an arrow passed above him. He extended his legs fast and threw himself forwards, rolling over one shoulder, trailing the arrow’s path back to its archer. As Zu’kuma came to his feet, he drew his scimitar in a long sweep. Moonlight struck the blade and it flared bright. A grunt of displeasure trembled behind a nest of frail bushes atop one of the dunes. Zu’kuma threw himself forwards, covering the distance in moments. As he crested the peak, he dove over his right shoulder, narrowly avoiding a second arrow. As he rose, Zu’kuma laid eyes on the first of his attackers. The man was taller than Zu’kuma, though not as broad. He was garbed in the same rough array of skins and fabrics that covered the Oracle’s rotting husk. Zu’kuma took two long strides, closing the distance between himself and the archer. The other man fumbled for a knife at his waist, but Zu’kuma was faster. He sliced open the archer’s belly in a single strike, already moving through him. The Oracle’s archer hit the ground and the stretched flesh holding his body together split. Gurgling cries were all that escaped his lips as his two halves tumbled bloodily down the dune. Zu’kuma moved on instinct, every muscle in his body attuned in perfect balance. Two men appeared from the rocks, long, wicked knives clasped in malnourished hands. They died fast. The striding warrior lunged into the first man, dropping his weight low in a deep crouch, his scimitar passing clean through the man’s knee. The fanatic hit the ground; his left leg separated completely. Zu’kuma rose and stepped over him, driving his sword into the wounded madman’s belly as he passed. He swore in his native tongue, blood rushing from his open mouth. The second threw himself towards Zu’kuma, his knife held high above him, carving down towards the warrior in a broad arc. Zu’kuma avoided the blow easily, moving behind his opponent and bringing his sword down directly onto the man’s head. Zu’kuma withdrew his sword as the man dropped. The warrior ran quickly back to the base of the dune, his sword still grasped in his fist. The Oracle had not moved. She still sat, murmuring silently. Zu’kuma marched towards her, coming to stand a few feet in front of the haggard seer. He spat at her. It hit her cheek, but she did not react. “You are beyond description. I cannot tell you of the hate that is stoked in my heart. Those men - “, he gestured towards the ravaged bodies, “ - were starved, and deranged. They stank of hashish. How can you inspire such madness?” Zu’kuma swelled before the woman. “You must not be allowed to infect my homeland. I care not what punishment awaits me. My master deserves better than you.” Zu’kuma brought his scimitar high. The gleaming blade cut back down through the air, passing without sound through the Oracle’s crooked neck. Zu’kuma watched her head fall to the ground, bounce once, and roll over. Her eyes were open, looking directly into his. She laughed, and then she spoke. “This is the place where I was killed.” Zu’kuma dropped his sword. The Oracle closed her eyes, and the future fell silent.


From a distance, I watched them making jokes, laughing at each other. I felt nothing but an ever-increasing emptiness. In the past, I tried to save them, each one. I really did my best, but it was never enough. In the end they all died, it was just a matter of time. All my efforts, all my struggles were not enough to keep them alive, to keep them from dying. This timeline will not be different, the outsider will come, there will be no war. There just needs to be no war. It will be a massacre. I'm just a single person who is completely powerless against them, and what's worse, the people from this world - who I'm desperately trying to protect - don't even take my concerns seriously. They laugh like it's a joke or act like I'm crazy. There really are days when I doubt my own sanity, but it would be strange if that weren't the case, wouldn't it? How many times have I died? How many times have I tried to convince them to get ready? How many times have I just begged for it all to end? I stopped counting. Countless times I tried to save them, put myself in danger, used my own body as a shield to protect them. The end was always the same. I feel like I hit a wall. Whatever I did, it was in vain. I couldn't save even one person, let alone the whole world. The chance is gone for me. I just wanted to die, and I did. And woke up again. Even if I wanted to die, I couldn't. It felt like a curse. It didn't matter what I wanted, I had no choice but to live, and I hated every second of it. Over the course of the different timelines, I found that I had changed. I used to be desperate, there were times when I literally begged them to hear me out. Sometimes they felt sorry for me, pretended to believe me, but when the disaster came, they were shocked. What I said was true. They didn't believe me for a second, in the end they wasted all my time. They gave me hope even though there was none. That's why I don't try to talk to them. It's all pointless anyway. And that's why I'm choosing a different path, one I've never considered before. I will rise above each and every one of them, like a star I will descend into heaven, but instead of an angel I will take the form of a demon. Straight out of hell. I will not beg them to trust me, to believe my words - it is too late for that. I will show them how powerless they really are, I will show them fear and force them to prepare - even if it means that I will be their enemy. I will kill innocent people. It's too late to regret it now, to back down just because I'm afraid of the blood that will be on my hands very soon. Perhaps it is my fate to be hated by the very people I have always tried to protect - what a truly cruel fate. But I don't have the power to go against fate itself, even if I wanted to. I am just a human being forced to relive the end of our world again and again - unable to change it, unable to prevent it. I'm tired, exhausted by it all, and frankly I don't have the will to go on anymore. I have died countless times, each time in such a cruel way that I want to die. To put an end to it all. A person should not experience death more than once. There are reasons why they die, and they never come back - at least that's what I believe. Death is not something that can be glossed over to make it more attractive - it destroys the lives of countless people, but it is necessary. There is no one who knows better, it is better to die than to go on living. Repeat the same life over and over again. Trust me, because once a certain point is passed, a person begins to change. They become twisted, question their own sanity, and feel themselves slowly losing control - unable to die, they are forced to stay, forced to endure. I'm not saying they are weak because they are collapsing under the pressure - it's just a matter of time. The burden will not disappear even for a second, will remind them every time to give everything, not to give up - because if they do, they don't know if they can get up again. They won't. Please believe me, you keep forgetting that they are human too. Mortals. So are their bodies and minds - they can't last forever. They will fall. They will break. It's just a matter of time. That's not an insult, I'm not trying to downplay their efforts - it's the harsh reality. Even the hardest metal can be bent if you put enough pressure on it, and it will break if it refuses to do so. That is the law. The unwritten law of this world. You can shake your head all you want, it doesn't change anything. My words have changed nothing, neither my honesty nor my warnings - about what will happen. They denied the truth until the very last second, shaking their heads in complete disbelief when their time was up. It was the same as always. They died, one by one. As always, there were some who blamed me for not warning them sooner, they yelled at me to save them, to do something - I couldn't help but laugh. I should save them? What do they think I've been doing all this time? Why do they think I was begging them, desperately hoping they would understand - do they think I'm doing it because it's fun? Being laughed at? Looked down upon? Swallowing your pride, asking for help, for their trust? Who do they think I am? I had an urgent need to yell at them, to grab them, to shake them - to force them to understand. But I was interrupted. They were killed literally seconds before I could do anything. They were cut in half. I felt like the world was laughing at me, mocking my tireless efforts. I heard the sound of something crumbling, but before I could look for the source, I was killed. Like an innocent bystander, I watched my torso rise until it was swallowed by it. In one piece. I couldn't run away, couldn't even turn my head away - because that's all I have left. Wasn't I supposed to be dead by now? As if my wish had come true, I too was eaten. Devoured by the nameless enemy. I called them the Outsiders, which in my humble opinion was a pretty good title for these invaders. But here I am again, at the very beginning of my "journey." Here I am in this depraved place. Unpleasant memories flashed through my mind, reminding me of the person I once was. Of the person I once used to be. Why does nothing change? Why is all my struggle in vain? Why don't they understand that I am as powerless as they are? As helpless as they are? Or maybe I'm even more desperate than they are, they at least have someone to back them up, someone to believe them, maybe even money or people on their side - I'm alone. There is not a single person who will miss me, who will even notice that I am gone. That is the hard truth. I am all alone - yet I am forced to stay in this cursed world. Since I cannot die, they force me to relive it's very last moments. They demand that I save the world, empty-handed. So here I am, shaking my head in disbelief. I will save them; I will save every one of these fools - by killing them. I will force them - as this world forced me - to be strong, to persevere in the face of crisis. There will be no doubt, they will not have the time. They will rise from the ashes and try to beat me, their enemy - maybe they will win, but I personally don't care - what matters is what happens afterwards. Will they finally be able to defend themselves? To prevent their downfall - but I will never know. My life has lost any meaning ages ago, here I am just barely hanging on a single thread. Dangeling above an endless darkness, but I have yet to give up this last hope. Desperately I am clinging onto it, refusing to let go - hoping 'wanting' something is enough to archieve it. I should have known better, should have faced reality sooner. Maybe it wouldn't be so harsh if I did it, braised myself, instead of running away. It's too late. Even if I have the 'power' to change the past, have the 'power' to overcome death itself - it doesn't save me from myself. I can feel it, how I am slowly losing the grip, slowly losing my sanity...