Being identical twins is a little irritating at times since only Mom and Dad can tell us apart, but Zoey and I get to have our fun with it. On test days, we switch places, which works really well since I’m good at math and Zoey is good at English. Today is a two for one special. We both had an English and Calculus test. I take Zoey’s math test during third and mine during fifth. Meanwhile, she gets to do English for us. On top of that, Mom is taking us to school, so we don’t even have to take the bus. All I had to do was show up to first and second period, switch shirts with Zoey before and after third, and bingo! I’m out of English and she’s out of math. “Breakfast,” I heard mom scream from downstairs. The smell of bacon drew me downstairs with ease. “Chloe, is your sister awake?” “Yeah, she’s changing.” I offered as an excuse for why I was still in pajamas. I plopped down into a chair and began reciting the different ways to take a derivative. Then, Zoey came downstairs. She didn’t have her hair and makeup done, just a simple ponytail tied up in back. Her black converse complemented her skinny jeans and gray t-shirt. Thank god. That means I don’t have to do my hair or makeup today. After nodding at Zoey, I went upstairs and got ready while we all waited for Dad to come downstairs. I threw on my black converse, skinny jeans, and a blue t-shirt. I tied my hair in a ponytail, then hurried back to the table. Dad was already sitting down, so they started eating without me. I didn’t mind since I usually eat quickly. I scarfed down the bacon and eggs Mom put on my plate. The drive to school was nice. Whenever we take the bus, kids try to guess “who’s Zoey and who’s Chloe” for the day. Without the mild irritation added to my morning, I was able to enjoy the conversation with Zoey and Mom. Mom was telling us about how she was going to have a special day at work today. She’s a substitute teacher, and apparently the school she’s subbing at today starts later than her regular shifts, so she was able to give us a ride. Mom dropped us off at the parking lot, and Zoey and I headed inside. We sat with our friends until the first bell rang, which wasn’t too long after we arrived. First period was slow, and I spent most of the time staring down at my study guide for Calculus. Second period was the same. My nerves built up in anticipation for the test. During passing period, I met with Zoey. We ran into the restroom and traded shirts. All I had to do was walk in, ace that calculus test, and go back to my normal schedule for the day. We exchanged “good lucks” and headed to class, as usual. I went into Zoey’s class and took a seat. The teacher was gone. He was probably just finishing up printing the tests. Of all the times I’d been in this class, he never printed them in advance. On top of that, he changed versions every period, so I couldn’t even breeze through my own test. While I was looking down at my study guide, I heard a familiar voice in front of me. “Surprise, sweetie!” “Mom?” My heart pounded so hard I was surprised it didn’t pop out of my chest. “I didn’t tell you earlier because I thought it would be fun to surprise you. I didn’t know you had a test today.” “Yup. English and math.” Mom smiled and walked back to the teacher’s desk. I’m wearing Zoey’s shirt, so maybe she won’t notice. The bell rang, and I knew if I made it past the next five minutes, I’d be fine. “Good morning, everyone. My name is Mrs. Styles and I’m going to be subbing for Mr. Hickman today. I’m gonna call roll now, so please tell me if I say your name wrong.” “Michael. Gerardo. Mina. Elizabeth. Brittney. Angel. Coralyn.” As she got closer to my name, I began shaking. I listened as she listed off my classmates’ names. “Zoey?” She cocked her head and looked up at me. “Here,” I responded. She just looked back down at the roster, continuing to read off names. Oh God. Did she hear my voice? I probably sounded nervous. She questioned it. Does she know? It’s Mom. She would definitely say something if she knew. I shook off my nerves and prepared for the test, which was more important at the moment. *** The test wasn’t as bad as I expected. However, I was still as nervous as ever. I ran to the restroom to talk to Zoey. As we exchanged shirts, I explained the situation to her. “Dude, if she knew it was you, she would’ve said something.” Zoey tried to reassure me. “Yeah, but she looked at me.” “Chloe, you’re fine. She didn’t say anything; she probably just felt bad because she thought she mixed us up. We’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna go take your test and I’ll take mine. Problem solved. Worst case scenario, she finds out.” “Yeah, worst case scenario, she beats our asses.” “Oh hush, you’re being over dramatic. We’ll be fine.” I was still shaking, but I finally gave into her argument. By the time lunch came around, I didn’t have an appetite. I mean, I was the one who had to face Mom again. What did Zoey have to worry about? She can’t be responsible for giving anything away if she’s not there. The bell rang and I headed back to Calculus. Act surprised, I told myself as I walked in. I sat down in my normal assigned seat, hoping that Mom would notice the difference. I figured that if I talked to my friends instead of looking at notes, she would know that I’m Chloe now. “Surprise, sweetie!” She interrupted my conversation. “Mom?” Oh shoot, I hope that was convincing enough. “Chloe didn’t tell you?” “No...” I said, acting like I didn’t know what was happening. “That’s odd. You girls tell each other everything. Maybe she wanted you to be surprised too.” Oh phew. She didn’t say anything. I allowed myself to calm down and I took my test. I walked out feeling confident. Both my test and Zoey’s test seemed to go really well. The rest of the day ended relatively quickly. I told Mom I wanted to walk home with my friends, and I pressured Zoey into going with me. I knew any conversation with her could make one of us crack. Mom knows how to find out when we’re lying. We opened the front door, peeking behind it to see if Mom was anywhere in sight. We were safe. Zoey and I walked to our rooms. I wasn’t sure what she was doing, but I figured that if I did my homework, Mom wouldn’t bother me. I relished in my solitude for a few hours, until I heard the call for dinner. I didn’t realize Dad got home. I ran downstairs, hoping to eat something since I didn’t eat lunch. “Wait, where’s Dad? I thought dinner was ready.” My mom turned around with her spatula in one hand, and the other on her hip. “You can have dinner after you bring your sister down.” I thought something was wrong, but I didn’t want to point it out in fear that I was just overthinking what she was saying. As I stepped on the first step, I heard Mom’s voice again. “Chloe, hold on. Come back here. I forgot to ask. How were your math tests?” I stopped mid-step and looked back at her. *She knew*. “I asked you how your math tests went.” I didn’t want to respond. “Did you really think you would get away with that?” I knew I’d only make it worse if I didn’t respond, so I said, “I don’t know.” “Honey, I asked if ‘Chloe’ told you. Zoey has third period. The second you said no, I knew it was you. First of all, I know my girls. Second of all, I know when my girls are lying to me.” I stared at the floor, keeping Mom in my peripheral vision. “Go to your room. I’m gonna deal with you and your sister as soon as I finish dinner.” I went to my room and texted Zoey everything. I laid back on my bed, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. I fucking knew it. I told Zoey this would happen. I was just waiting for mom to come upstairs, spatula in hand. It felt like eternity had passed, but I finally heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I watched in horror as my doorknob turned. The knot in my stomach tightened as the door swung open. “Wait. Where’s mom? When did you get home?” Dad walked in, closing the door behind him. He was holding his belt in his hand. “Mom told me what you and Zoey did today.” “But she said she would come upstairs and deal with us. She didn’t say anything about you.” “Don’t forget, sweetie. We can switch too.


Chapter 10 Maurice approached the Holy Cathedral cautiously; he’d never been this close to the royalty of The Authority before. He ascended the grand steps that led up to the doorway into the cathedral, slowly and carefully. When he got to the door he stopped for a moment, and then entered. Standing in the middle of the room was a tall, lanky figure shrouded in a black cloak. “Hello, Hepburn,” the figure said. Maurice moved slowly, unsure of himself. The hood of the cloak fell just below the figure’s eye-line, showing his long, crooked nose and and a thin smile. “So, you’ve lost a starpod?” The figure spat. Maurice gulped. “Yes...I’m afraid so,” he replied. The figure wrung his bony hands together and the smile faded. “And how do you suppose you’ll get it back?” Maurice gulped, and then shuffled his feet. “Starpods give off a unique energy signature, as you know,” he said. “All we need to do is look out for that signature.” “So! You’re going to scour the entire galaxy?” Maurice found himself nodding. “Yes, sir--eh, Your Excellency, that is the plan, but--” “But what?” The figure mocked. “--but it may take some time.” “I should think so. But time is slippery, it can escape your grasp in an instant if you’re not careful to grip it tightly.” “I won’t fail you,” Maurice exclaimed, his voice cracking. “Find the unit, Hepburn, and find it soon.” And at that, the figure waved Maurice away, and he found himself walking backwards out the door of the church, unwilling to turn his back to such a bony, death-like creature. Chapter 11 Josiah and Daniel stepped onto the rickety, metal elevator, and began their descent deep into one of Manoor’s many quarries. It’s in these quarries that they once hoped to mine feria , a substance that prolongs the human lifespan. But, much to the dismay of Manoor’s ancestors, none had been found on this planet. “So, you have yet to find any feria at all?” Jo asked inquisitively. Prime Minister Edein responded: “No, none at all. Which is good, for it’s kept The Authority far away from our little sanctuary.” “Because of the energy signature?” Daniel asked. “That’s right. Without the signature radiation from feria, our planet has snuck under their radar. Once, we hinged our entire economic system on finding the elusive element; now, the mines stand empty and barren.” “So, what do you hope to show us down there, then?” Daniel asked. “You’ll see.” And down and down they went, deeper into the quarry until the sun hid behind one of the edges of the great crater. And the closer they got, the more they could swear that there was a buzzz coming from deep within. “What’s that noise?” Jo asked. The prime minister was silent. Finally, they reached the bottom, and the three men, accompanied by four guardsmen, stepped out onto a crimson-red floor. The buzzz was even louder now, but still subtle, as if hidden within something. As they walked down the path, the prime minister said: “We found it thirty years ago, looking for feria.” They turned a corner, and there it was: a ripple in spacetime. Daniel’s jaw dropped, and Josiah stood steady, looking stoically at the slim tear within the fabric of reality itself. “We have no idea what kind of radiation it’s emitting,” Edein began, “but it’s like nothing we’ve ever observed before.” “And The Authority--” began Jo. “--they have no idea about it, as far as we know. This type of radiation isn’t what they’re looking for.” “And the keyblade?” Asked Daniel. Prime minister Edein smiled. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” “No, but--” “--something cut through,” Edein said. “A blade that serves as a key. A key into another world.” Chapter 12 Maurice’s ship barrelled through space, hurriedly, towards the headquarters of Baxtar Industries. He would scour the entire galaxy, no, the entire universe , to get back the stolen starpod. Maurice’s temper flared, and he angrily slammed his fist on the arm of the seat he was in. His android across from him looked concerned. “Mr. Hepburn,” the robot began, “perhaps you should take ferryar .” “I don’t need any damn feria,” he exclaimed. “I need the starpod back.” “It is a most troubling scenario,” the droid, named AX-7675, continued, “but I have faith that something will turn up.” “You’re an android, you don’t have faith.” Maurice mumbled angrily. “You programmed faith into me, sir.” “So your opinion is a product of my imagination.” AX-7675 went silent for a few moments, then: “Your imagination is a product of your own genetic make-up, your own programming, if you will, and is really no different from mine.” Maurice stared out the window, and thought to himself: “The starpod is out there...somewhere, deep within the galaxy, maybe...and without it this whole operation falls apart.” Chapter 13 Catherine awoke suddenly. The two moons shone dazzling light through her window and onto her bed; she stared out the window at those moons, and sighed heavily. She’d been on Taleyedos for four days as her arm healed; Sonya had been very pleasant and helpful to her, but still the blade remained a mystery. “All in due time,” Pietro had promised, but that time still hadn’t come yet. Sonya told her what she could (which wasn’t much), but her friendly demeanour and genuine sense of empathy helped Catherine get through those early days in Scienca and grow accustomed to her new life. Now, she was growing restless, and needed answers. So on the morning of the fifth day, she walked down the lightly paved road towards the emerald spire and climbed the steps back up to the circular room she’d been brought to when she first arrived, and barged in. The assembly was deliberating about something, and all turned their heads towards Catherine as she made her bombastic entrance. “It’s time you told me who you are, it’s time you told me about the blade that saved my life, and it’s time you told me what you know about The Authority and how we can defeat them,” she proclaimed loudly as the doors swung behind her. Pietro stayed calm, and smiled. “We were discussing yesterday as to whether we should tell you or not. Some of the assembly here does not think so. But, in your favour, enough of us do, so we will answer your questions. But, fetch Sonya. We will not start without her. Let us meet in the courtyard behind the spire in three hours?” Catherine, who’d been given a brilliant, silver watch from Sonya, looked at her wrist and nodded. “Let it be so,” she said, and strutted off. Chapter 14 Catherine walked down the lightly paved road back to her house where there was a kind of telephone she could use to reach Sonya should she need her. She stopped in front of her house, and stared up at the blue-grey sky, speckled with clouds. She smiled to herself. Although the past week had been trying, Catherine was glad to finally be somewhat at peace with herself. Suddenly, however, the sky grew dark; a massive hypership appeared in orbit around the planet, blocking out the sun. Catherine frowned, and looked confused as the bombs started falling. First, they hit the emerald spire, knocking it to the ground in a tremendous bang , then they started dropping on the village hidden within the chrome walls. Boom, boom, boom they went, and Catherine screamed, and ran into her house and into the basement. She covered her head with her arms, and all she could hear was the deafening roar of the explosives flattening the town. Far above her, in the hypership, Sonya stood there, watching. “You’ve made a deal with the devil,” said Maurice, standing beside her. “You’re certain you know the location of the starpod?” “Like I already told you, Catherine told me everything.” She smiled, and Maurice looked on out the window, satisfied. “Goodbye, Catherine E. Ness,” he said, chillingly.


"Hey, are you ok?" I rested my hand on her shoulder, tapping my fingers lightly. Arin looked back to me, still fingering her fated weapon. "As good as I'll ever be," she sighed, returning her attention to her sword. I returned a light smile, though she didn’t notice. Her eyes ran up and down the dark bronze blade, falling into every small nick and imperfection. She'd been given the sword the day she turned eighteen, told it was the only way to save the world. Arin was a hero inscribed in fate, prophesied with her sword in hand. Dread bubbled up in my chest as I grounded myself. We were at the final step, the last line of the prophecy. As if she read my mind, Arin mumbled under her breath, "And in the dusk of Autumn's death, the sword shall be plunged into the burdened spirit, striking the counted clock." The air around us felt still, though we were still leaning on the inn's outer, wooden wall. We'd arrived in town the previous night, though it was still two miles out from the Spirit grove. "And we still don't know what the 'counted clock' is either?" I broke the silence, finally pertant enough for Arin to sheath her sword. "It might make sense when we get there," Arin shrugged, before kicking the dirt at her feet. "Hopefully." "Well, did you talk to Carlow about it?" I asked, trying to keep her from growing silent again. Arin blushed, glancing from me to the inn behind us. "I mean, we've all talked about it already. But, yeah, they don't know either." "I though they were supposed to be the smart one," I joked, raising an eyebrow as Arin smiled slightly. "I mean, they're the one who figured out the Spirit grove thing." Arin nodded, answering solemnly, "Of course they're a genius, we wouldn't have lasted a day without them. But, their injury hasn't been kind to them..." her voice trailed off as she turned her body around to face the inn. She stroked a hand on the wood siding, looking up and trying to find the window of the room we'd booked, the room where we'd left Carlow. Chills ran down my spine as I remembered Carlow's injury. I'd been the one to help them when it happened, when their leg was torn all but to the bone by the wolves, a few days prior. Their leg was bloodied and mauled, so much so that they were unable to walk. Carlow'd lost so much blood that they were barely conscious, and Arin and I had to leave them behind at the inn to finish the quest. Carlow swam in both our minds, until Arin slapped the sword’s hilt. “Well, the sun’s setting, so I guess it’s now or never.” “Heh, yep,” I nodded, glancing at the twin knifes sheathed at my hips. They’d served me well, ready for our final fight. I pulled one of the knifes out, just enough for the sinking sun to glint off the silver blade. My knives weren’t anything particularly special, just a pair we’d picked up along the way. I used to be envious of Arin’s connection to her sword, but I realized that being a fated hero has its own pitfalls. I put my knife away and pushed myself off the wall, prompting Arin to do the same. We took a few steps forward, before she swiveled around to face the inn. I sighed, glancing at the fading sun. “Do you want to talk to Carlow again?” Arin nodded furiously, grinning sheepishly as she bolted back inside. I leaned my weight on my hips, tapping my foot against the ground. We’d already said goodbye to Carlow, but it made sense to me that Arin would want a moment alone with them. It was interesting that they still thought I didn’t know. As if it wasn’t obvious, the way Arin defended Carlow in fights, how close together they slept on the nights we camped out in the woods. All my suspicions had been confirmed when Carlow was hurt, the way Arin panicked and fretted. There was no platonic explanation for that. Arin eventually returned, taking a deep breath as she met me. The corners of her eyes were red, and her cheeks flushed. She wiped the corner of her eye with her hand, biting her lip as she nodded for us to head forward. We started walking north towards the Spirit grove, each step carrying more and more anxious weight. As the town dipped down below the horizon, Arin gripped the hilt of her sword, spinning her fingers around it as she broke the heavy silence. “Tiff, have I told you-” she started, pursing her lips and swallowing. “That you and Carlow are totally in love?” I finished, raising my eyebrows, trying to restrain my laughter. Arin turned beet red, glancing away as she failed to cover a dopey smile. “Well, yeah, but I- I wanted to tell you something else.” She slowed her gait, reaching a hand towards mine. I grabbed a hold of hers, letting her squeeze my palm. “Tiff, I just want to thank you.” Arin’s eyes welled with tears, and I felt my own start to burn. Arin smiled, shaking her head and looking to the ground as she continued, “You stuck with me through all of this, Tiff, through the good times-” she reached her free hand up to my upper arm, running her finger down the deep scar that ran from my shoulder to my elbow, “and the bad.” I blushed, shrugging her hand off the old wound. “Of course I stuck with you, we’re friends for life, remember? It’ll take more than a magic sword and some blood to tear us apart.” A tear fell from Arin’s eye a she wrapped her arms around me, staring the hug that I gladly joined. We held each other tightly for a moment, reluctantly pulling away after an long minute. We nodded to each other, turning back to the road before us. We walked briskly and silently the rest of the way, each tensing our muscles as the Spirit grove peeked into our view, a large square-shaped temple built from fine stone. “What did Carlow say was in there?” I asked, gripping my knives. “They said the spirits are like ghosts,” Arin started, slowly finding her own hilt. “Carlow said the there isn’t much known about the spirits, not even if they’re real.” I nodded, and we approached the grove’s entrance with great care. As we found ourselves in front of the door, Arin turned to me and grinned, “You ready for one last fight?” I returned a cocky smile, “One last time, then we’re home free.” Arin nodded and kicked the door open, drawing her sword with a final sense of might. I stepped in behind her, whipping my knives out and flipping them once in my hands. The room we’d dramatically lunged into was empty. Completely, utterly empty. “What?” Arin whispered, lowering her sword as she stepped further in. I followed behind, though I kept my knifes raised. We walked around the room, a stone box harshly lit by small holes in the ceiling. Our footsteps echoed as I shook my head in confusion. Where else were we supposed to find spirits? It’s the last day of autumn, the sun is setting, what are we missing? We wandered through the room a few minuted more. A large boom sounded through the room, and I jumped as Arin raised her sword. We drifted towards each other as more booms followed, quickly falling into a pattern, two quick sounds before a pause, over and over again. We stood defensively in the room, our ears filling with the noise, until something in my head clicked, breaking my trance from the booms. “Arin, it sounds like a heartbeat!” I exclaimed, glancing around at the fading light pouring through the roof. “A heart, a clock-” Arin started, suddenly dropping her sword. “A counted clock, a counted heartbeat, a fated heart-” her voice started trembling as she slowly repeated the final prophetic lines, “...the sword shall be plunged into the burdened spirit, striking the counted clock.” “Arin,” I called, worry bubbling in my body as Arin clenched her fists. “Arin, what does this mean?” Arin stumbled away from me, turning back and looking at her discarded sword in disgust. “Tiff, there’s only two souls in this room,” she started, moving further away from the blade. My heart skipped in my chest, launching into my throat. “So the burdened soul-” “Is me!” Arin cried, falling back against the wall. Her breathing grew erratic and shallow, as she ran a hand through her dark brown hair. Breathlessly, she stammered, “I need to stab myself. In the heart.” Every organ in my body contorted, and I dropped my knives and ran to Arin. “No, there has to be another way, this- this can’t be it. Arin, no!” Arin’s body trembled as I kneeled next to her, grabbing her shoulder. She closed her eyes, inhaling sharply as she placed a hand over mine. She gripped it tightly, before dismally pushing my hand away. I leaned back in surprise, dumbfounded as Arin stood up and shakily retrieved her sword. Sword in hand, Arin turned back to me, taking deep, calming breaths as her eyes filled with tears. “I thought this could happen,” she traced a finger on the blade, “but I thought- I hoped it wouldn’t.” Arin shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. She masterfully spun the blade in her fingers, her outstretched hand gripping the hilt as the sword’s point floated in front of her chest. “But I’m ready.” “Arin, you don’t have to do this,” I pleaded, my voice already breaking. “What if you’re wrong- what if- what about Carlow?” More tears poured from Arin’s eyes as she shook her head. “Tiff, I think I’ve figured it out. To save the world, this place, this grove- it demands a sacrifice.” “The sword is bait,” I finished, standing up to face Arin. The revelation burned in my chest, and I noticed the stream of my own tears flowing from my cheeks and down my neck. Arin nodded mournfully, looking down and lining the tip of the wicked blade up to her heart. I froze as she focused, watching lamely as she pierced the outer layer of her skin, tearing through her shirt. In an eerily strong voice, Arin looked to me, locking shimmering eyes, “Tiff, listen. We haven’t seen any ‘spirits’ here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if something happens when I do this. Tiff, look at me.” I forced my wandering eyes back to hers, reluctantly opening my ears. “Tiff, I don’t want you to get hurt. So, when I say the word, I need you to run. You run, you hear me?” I nodded. “But I don’t want you to be alone.” Arin gave me a sympathetic smile, “I’ll be ok. It’s time for me to be a hero.” Arin lost her smile, finishing, “Besides, I don’t want your last memory of me to be with this, this thing in my chest.” I could only nod, my throat to swollen to speak. Arin pointed her head towards the door, and I slowly entered the doorway, though I didn’t dare leave. Arin locked eyes with me one last time, tears pouring down her face like never before. “Arin, I love you,” I choked, my own face hot and drenched in tears. My body trembled as I watched Arin tighten her grip. “Tell Carlow I love them, that they mean so much to me,” Arin fought back sobs, choking one back as she finished, “And Tiff, thank you. For everything.” A sob broke through, and she gave her last testament, “Tiff, I love you.” I twisted away as her words slipped into my ears, hearing her grunt before I heard the sound of Arin’s body topple to the ground. I bolted at the final sound, my cruel mind finishing the scene for me. She’s dead. Arin’s dead. Dead. There was no room in my heart for anger as I ran from the grove. Every inch of flesh, every vein in my body pounded with sick grief, an unending pain as I ran faster and faster to the town. My shoes were made of lead, my head full of knives, my skin covered in barbed wire, yet I sprinted as fast as I could, finally stumbling into the outer reach of the town. I couldn’t breathe as I stumbled back to the inn, navigating through the new darkness of night. As I finally found myself back at the entrance, I pushed through the door, ignoring the blinding of the interior lights. I tore through the hallway towards our room, flying past the other patrons as they gave me worried glances. I almost kicked the door down, jerking to a stop as I clunked into the room. I whipped my head around to find Carlow resting on a chair in the corner of the room, a book fallen at their side. They looked up at me, their face melting from confusion to horror as they started to put the pieces together, examining my tear stained face and horrified eyes. Carlow tried to stand up, failing as their leg kept them from approaching me. Instead, I tripped over to them, toppling to my knees to be at their height. Carlow met me halfway by sliding down to the floor too, though they winced as they landed next to me. Once they’d looked back up to me, I pitifully wrapped my arms around them, and I felt as they embraced me back. I squeezed Carlow tightly as more tears fell from my unrelenting eyes, even feeling some of Carlow’s as they dripped onto my shirt. I bit my tongue, spending a moment of silence with Carlow before whispering in their ear, “Arin loved you so much, Carlow. You meant the world to her.” Carlow sobbed into my shoulder, holding me tighter than ever, as I held them back. We’d both lost Arin, our hero. We sobbed. And sobbed.


He comes to her in August, darkly-coated with a swift step. He comes to her and that is the beginning. He steps into this motel. *‘The Grand Motel.’* It is a dim and minimal sight, the colors muted and homely. It is as grand as a lobby can be. A cough is heard. It is small but grating. From the lobby counter, a girl appears. Thin-boned and blemished, she coughs again. The hacking is hoarse and stubborn. Her lungs are not kind. ”You need a room?” The girl sits on the counter. ”Fifty a night.” ”I’m here to introduce myself.” he puts himself in a chair that cannot possibly be made out of real velvet. ”Sure?” Stiffly, the man introduces himself as Death. There is silence. Death thinks about a reflection of himself as the earth crumbles. The girl laughs hard. Then she coughs hard. Death stares and wonders how the moon views the sun. She says it’s just a cold. He says it's cancer. Sitting and strangled, she introduces herself as Jessica. She speaks about her father and his own cancerous rhythm of breath. That’s all breathing is to Death, a rhythm. She talks about Jackson, her brother. Her timid-toned guardian. He does not know about her cancer. He does not know that the girl will end up like their father. He’ll be angry. Jessica isn’t, she is tired and does not ask one question to Death about his existence. She seems content with what everybody knows about Death. She’s just surprised that Death is a he. Jackson arrives and Death knows he is not a boy for confrontation. Their confrontation is only expected. Jackson is made of clenched fists, his rhythm droning with hope that this is a mean joke. Death could never be that rude. But he is not gentle, just an outcome. When Jackson is finished with the attempts at emotional punches, he tells Jessica to get off the counter. She does not. Jackson asks too many questions. Death thinks about cellars and screams of the damned. He asks for a discount on the room. Jessica coughs with a wink and Death feels a twitch in what would be his bones. In the night, Jessica decides that chemotherapy is overrated. Jackson is less than happy about her opinion. Death figures out why most people would not want to die in a motel. The girl explains that it’s because it didn’t treat her dad too kindly. ”Anything that has to do with cancer wouldn't treat anyone too kindly.” Death quips, he has existed too long to not be cheeky. Jackson scoffs. ”You would know.” It rings true. Death imagines a paper mache moon. Jessica believes her lungs must be made out of acid. Jackson knows that Jessica will not change her mind and that she’ll hate him if he forces her to. He won’t try. For the next three months, Death’s existence is all checkers and realization. It starts with the dead father. On day five, Death needs a change of clothes. To Jackson’s dismay, Jessica remembers their father’s suits. There, he finds out that Jessica carries herself with the quickness of a bewildered child. The suits become routine. Jackson asks him if his father came to him standing. ”Yes,” Death lies. The truth of the end for cancer patients is not a comfort. It snows on day eleven. There, Death finds out that Jessica is the worst at checkers. He laughs at where she places her reds. Day twenty is when Jessica teaches him how to play the spoons. Jackson smiles and it is not one of spite. Day twenty-nine is when they play in the snow. There, the girl was suspended and open, in a way Death couldn’t understand, she found a way to burn and be open. Death forgets the reasons why he’s here. Month two is when Jessica does nothing but sleep. Her tumor is quick. Death sees her suffering as a burden and it scares him. Day fifteen on month two is when Jessica winks at Death as she sweats out five pounds. He asks her why she did. ”Just because.” He imagines her as a beast in a forest. This stubborn child who he thinks of in the snow. He smiles at her like he knows her. It is month three and Death knows that it is time to be the outcome. Jessica is shrunken. Jackson does not know that this is the end. Death can only pity him. These months between them have only been the cargo of second-hand illness. ”I’m heading to bed.” Jackson slows his rhythm. Death needs to give him subtle closure. They have been discreetly lonely for so long. ”You’re doing a good job.” At that moment, Jackson looks like Jessica. He assumes he looks like the father too. They share a look of knowing and the boy is off to bed. He makes his way to Jessica’s room. He thinks about a tree that weeps seed. The door creaks. With an unsteady standing, Death enters. The room is stained with sickness and he can only stare at this thin-boned girl, heavy in her bed. She is all aching limbs, all frailty. She has made him quiet, all desperate. All her, all her. She looks as if she’s never winked at someone for no other reason than to make one curious. She looks as if she’s never sat on lobby counters when she’s not supposed to or has never learned how to play the spoons. She only looks like she’s only ever suffered. She looks like she’s ready. Her breaths are rattling, something made for a sharp epilogue. ”Jessica.” He whispers her name like it’s a secret. Her eyes shift to his frame, the suited silhouette. Silence. A clattered breath. ”Dad?” Death is still. The name is a knife. It is a weapon that Jessica grips with delirium. He has seen this all before and he cries. It is not a burden and he cannot decide if that was progress or grief. ”Dad, you’re home.” He’s seen this all before, he knows all you can do is pretend. Brittle, he pretends. ”Yes, I am.” Jessica gives a jangled smile and wheezes out a laugh. ”You don’t seem happy about it.” she chuckles and hacks away at her lungs. That’s the loop. A laugh, then a cough. Joy despite disease. Death laughs despite the inevitable result. For her. ”How can I not be?” She reaches for him, a paternal reunion. Death seeps into the bed. Jessica only smiles. ”You’re here.” Her head falls onto his shoulder. ”I’m here,” He holds her and he can’t stop crying. He holds her because he knows her and he knows she’s ready. ”I’m here.” ”You’re here,” She says once more. ”You’re here. Her rattling rhythm speeds up. The girl wears a shadow of a toothy smile. Death begins, collecting her softly. ”I’m here.” he whispers. It’s not a secret. The rhythm is rasping. ”I’m here.” It does not scare him. He collects every part of her and hopes that he was kind and simple and gentle in all aspects. He hopes she knew that she was easy to know and that he knew her simply and whole. He hopes that her soul will haunt him. He hopes that Jackson will forgive him. He hopes they know that they showed him perfect love. The rhythm stops. ”I’m here.” he says. Her soul is bright and only in his arms for a moment. He hopes they know he will be burning forever. In the morning, the brother woke. He sat up in his bed and he knew. He makes his way to Jessica’s room. When he sees her in her bed, sleeping but not, he remembers her laughing with all of her chest. He does not attempt to revive her. Jackson looks at his little sister, sleeping but not, and calls 9-1-1. Death is nowhere to be found. Jackson is too tired to be angry and he is trying to figure out if the hard part is over. He sits in the hollow noise of others. It is not comforting. Two months later, when he goes through Jessica’s belongings, he weeps. It’s the spoons that get him. He laughs, wondering if Jessica is teaching their dad how to play them. He knows that grief feels like everything. A guest above plays a tune that is reminding of smiling voices. He opens the drawer of the nightstand. He thinks there might be more spoons. There sits a small note. *‘Thank you. Look at the sun and remember her. Stay brutal.’* *- D* Jackson realizes that the hard part is not over. \_\_\_ Death lingers on a train filled with boys who believe they are ready for war. He disagrees. The morning star begins to rise. He looks towards the east. He remembers. Then he burns.


They had her kneel on the bare floor. Allie pulled the hood off her head and looked around. Three shadowy figures stood before her in the dimly lit room. Jason said, “Boo!” “Of course, Jason. I knew you had to be part of it. Where’s your goalie mask?” Diego pointed at him. “He forgot!” The three boys standing over her burst into laughter. Allie said, “Not wearing it doesn’t help you. Don’t leave home without it.” She and Jason dated briefly in their junior year. But his insecurity and immaturity formed a toxic gumbo. When they first led her in she heard keys rattle. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she spotted them lying on a side table by the door. Walter asked, “Did we scare you?” “Yeah, teenage boys always give me the shivers. Is there a point to this?” They laughed again. Offering his hand, Diego helped her to her feet. She brushed herself off. “Thanks... C’mon, guys. What’s this about? Where are we?” “Morfey...” They looked at each other with wide grins. “What, the old Morfey place? The ‘haunted farmhouse’?” “You got it...” They laughed again. She couldn’t believe it. “This is a haunted house?” “The ultimate haunted house, Allie.” She scanned the room. Once home to the Morfey family, only spiders had lived there for decades. Things went south and took the whole family in a single night. No perps were ever caught. Police sealed the records. Superstitions filled the gap and over fifty years, the stories multiplied. No one knew the truth. Allie didn’t believe in ‘haints,’ as kids called them. “I guess, if dust scares you...” Walter pointed to a wooden chair. “Have a seat.” She brushed off one of the four, straight backed chairs set in a circle and sat. “I hope you don’t think this will make me like you geeks. Kidnapping is a crime, you know.” The others sat too. The lantern, in their midst, lit their faces from below. Shadows loomed eerily against the ceiling and walls. They looked around at the sound of wind buffeting the house. Walter said, “Bear with us for a few, Allie. We have a challenge for you.” “How fast I can dial 911?” “No... This is the season for exploring the dark side of things. And you being the biggest skeptic we know, we wanted to scare you.” “Cut to the chase and ask me to marry you. That’d give me the willies.” Jason said, “We wanted the right atmosphere for our challenge. No point trying to scare you in the comfort of home. Why not someplace classic?” “An abandoned house? Charming...” Walter said, “Everyone agrees it’s haunted.” “Right. Everyone but me. So, it must be true.” Jason said, “Exactly!” Walter leaned in. “We’re going to give it a try.” “Gee, whiz. And here I planned to polish my nails tonight.” Walter unfolded a list. “Let’s get started.” Jason said, “We want you to feel like you have some choice, Allie. Which do you want first? The locked attic door? Or the rats?” Allie clapped her hands. “Oooh, I love to choose... Is that the Jane Eyre attic door? With the crazy lady?” “That very one.” Diego shook his head. “Amazing... So literate...” “How about I pick none? Rats don’t scare me, too cute. But I won’t let animals get mistreated for entertainment’s sake. And I don’t believe you locked someone in the attic. That would require organizational skills I’ve seen from exactly none of you.” Walter said, “We’ll warm you up with a quiz.” Diego said, “I’m sorry, Allie. Are you thirsty? Can I get you something?” “With poison or not?” “We have bottled water and Diet Coke.” “Coke. Unopened, please.” He pulled a can from the cooler and handed it to Allie. “Thanks.” She popped it open, tipped it back and gulped thirstily. Walter said, “So, which is scarier, Linda Blair in the Exorcist? Or a severed head?” “Yeah, that was kind of a career defining moment for ol’ Linda. She never reached her full potential after that. But scary? Not so much. Kind of laughable, I’m sorry to say.” “So, severed heads then?” “If they weren’t so over-used and unimaginative! The French Revolution went way over the line. But now you can’t watch the news without seeing some attention starved douche-bag getting his fifteen minutes.” The boys looked at each other. “Okay, next. Chainsaws? Or razor blades?” “Depends on the application. For shaving my legs, I prefer...” Jason said, “She’s not taking this seriously.” Walter held his hand up for silence. “We’re warming up. Give her time.” Diego offered, “Torture devices... The rack, or the Iron Maiden?” Allie couldn’t resist. “If you’re into metal music...” Jason blurted out, “Number of the Beast!” Diego did a fist pump and cheered. Walter shook his head. “Focus guys. We’re trying to wear her down. Scaring her, remember?” They settled and looked at the floor. Allie yawned. Walter continued. “Which would frighten you more... if the house was built on an Indian burial ground, or on a toxic waste dump?” “Don’t feed me tomatoes from the garden either way. But scared? I worry more if my make-up gets discontinued.” Diego offered, “Evil clown? Or evil doll?” “Guys, don’t you follow the news? Clowns are in fashion. I don’t get it, but not scary. And not sorry.” She cocked her head. “Evil dolls...? I never met one, but the best way to defeat them...? Don’t take them out of the box. Easy peasy... Though I’ll admit Barbie is formidable. That girl has style...” Jason grew impatient. “Allie, you must agree, Frankenstein’s monster is scary.” She paused. “Not as cute as King Kong. The classic monsters were either sympathetic, or boring. The Mummy? What a snooze fest. Face it. Mummies, zombies, vampires... all those ‘undead’ types are seriously not scary. What’s scary is how many clichés you guys love.” “Come on, Allie. Birds? Or sharks?” “Since you don’t even have running water here... Do you...?” They shook their heads. “...I doubt sharks are a threat. As for birds... too flighty. Don’t scare me.” Walter said, “How about psychokinesis?” “You mean like with Carrie?” Walter nodded. “Now, Carrie had it going. She taught those soshes a lesson they’ll not soon forget. You want envy? Sign me up. I’d love to rain vengeance down on some people.” She gave them a look. “But scared? Not really.” Jason said, “Hey guys, come here. Let’s talk for a minute.” He stepped into the gloom of the ancient kitchen. The others followed. Diego turned to Allie, “Don’t go away. We’re strategizing.” She called out. “Hey, guys?” They looked at her. “All that talk about sharks and running water... Is there anything like a bathroom around?” The guys looked at each other and shrugged. Walter pointed. “Around to the left. Past the front door.” “Great... I’ll find it.” Allie moved to the front door and waited until she heard talking. She grabbed the car keys from the table and ran out the door, into the storm. The rain hit her cold and hard. She ran blindly, as fast as possible, in complete darkness, until she slammed into the car. Groaning, she groped her way to the driver’s side door. ‘ Unlocked! ’ Allie slammed the door behind her and locked the other doors. “Whew!” She hit the wheel. “Yeah!” She jammed the key into the ignition and pumped the gas pedal. The engine spun, but didn’t catch. ‘ Did I flood it?’ Continued tries only drained the battery. Stuck. Surprised they hadn’t pursued her, she pondered her next action. The rain varied between hard and harder. Allie was wet and cold. But at least she was out of that house. ‘ Better alone than surrounded by those creeps.’ She felt the back seat for a blanket or jacket. She could sleep in the car until sunrise. The back seat was empty. And chilly. ‘ Why didn’t I grab a jacket? ’ She looked toward the house, unseen in the darkness. The sound of rain on the roof made her shiver in her wet clothes. Not afraid, she was more annoyed than anything. She knew her way home, but walking in the storm was out of the question. There wouldn’t be street lights for miles. In this rain, she might drown standing up. ‘ How stupid can people be? ’ Allie pounded the steering wheel and screamed in frustration. Her shivering had become constant. Her teeth chattered. She didn’t want pneumonia. At least it was dry inside. They weren’t threatening her. Just stupid pranking. ‘ What does it take for people to grow up?’ She thought, ‘What’s the point, guys? Why spend precious energy pursuing darkness and fear? Wouldn’t life be better working toward something better? Beauty? Or truth...? Free yourselves...’ “I’m telling them.” Throwing the car door open, Allie sprinted through the torrent back to the house. Drenched, she shoved the door open and called out to the boys. No answer. The house was silent. ‘ Trying to scare me again... ’ The storm raged. A loose shutter banged against the side of the house. The dim, but warm glow from the living room, drew her in. Allie called out. “I know you guys are in here. Cut the crap. Let’s go get some dinner.” She stopped in the doorway and stared in shock. Sounds gurgled from her throat. She gasped and leaned against the door frame. Feeling a warm wetness she looked at her hand. Allie knew the truth. She couldn’t stop screaming.


I live in the Suicide Tower. It has another name, of course, but no one calls it by anything other than the Suicide Tower. It’s because out of all the buildings in town, they jump off mine the most.  It was startling enough when I first moved in. I was sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast, when I saw a body falling from the sky. Perplexed, I went over and opened the French doors, stepped onto my little balcony, and looked down on the body that was now splayed out on the sidewalk.  The EMTs seemed pretty nonchalant about it. They pronounced the man dead and stood around, chatting, until the morgue guys got there. I shouldn’t worry too much about it, they said. One of them, sitting on the steps smoking, claimed it was his third time here in a week. I looked down at the pavement, where the body laid starfished and covered in a white sheet, staining the concrete crimson, and back up at the men. The one smoking smiled sympathetically. “If I were you, I’d find a new place to live.”  But I stayed, and in time got used to the sight. I suppose in some places it rained water, but here it rained people. I might be sitting on the couch watching TV, or reading, or sitting at the table eating, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a falling body, a jumper on his way to meet his Maker. Sometimes, I turn at the right time and catch one of their eyes. It’s strange to be the last living human a man sees before he dies.  Perhaps I should go up there and talk to the jumpers. Try to convince them not to. That someone out there loves them. Maybe then it will make a difference. I might even get a medal for it. But I don’t. Because I don’t know what to say to make someone step away from the ledge. How to convince a man that life is worth living. So I stay in my apartment and bear witness to their demises like the angel of indifference.  Whenever I mention to someone where I live, or I invite people over, they always ask me why I still live here. “Isn’t it horrible,” they say with their eyes wide open “to see so much death?” “Well,” I tell them. “The rent is cheap. There are no neighbors. And the view is nice.” And it’s true. The rent is cheap. No one lives here but me. And you could see all the way to the ocean from my windows. I like the ocean. No one really comes over anymore. Sometimes I invite the EMTs, whom I’ve gotten know since moving in, up for a cup of tea. They always decline.  One day, when I was arriving home from the store, I noticed a woman coming down from the stairs leading up to the roof. That was an unfamiliar sight. No one ever comes down the stairs. She was middle-aged, with red, irritated eyes and a runny nose. “Hello,” I said as she passed. She stopped in her tracks, looked at me. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone lived here. I don’t mean to trespass.” “No, that’s okay. Would you like to come in?” That was impulsive of me. But I hadn’t had anyone over in a long time and was excited at the prospect of company. “I don’t mean to intrude.” I took that as a yes, and asked her to hold one of the bags while I found my keys.  I gave her the chair that I called the company chair, since I strategically placed it away from the wide french doors and windows. She swallowed, looked around while I made us a cup of tea, fumbling with the fancy teacups I never get to use anymore. “This is a nice place.” I nodded my thanks, pleased by that. I take some pride in my home, even though I don’t have much in the way of furniture. What I do have is nice and clean and I always buy fresh flowers. “I’m sorry I’m such a wreck. My son...” She sniffed loudly “The cops called, and I insisted on telling me where they found my boy. And I had to see where he jumped. I had to see where he fell, what he saw before he...” She cut herself off, taking a sip of tea. “He left a note you see.” She placed the teacup on the end table and picked up her purse, nervously rifling through it. Behind her head, I could see the dark shadow of a falling body. I broke away from the sight as soon as she lifted her head up, holding the note in her shaking hands. “Can I?” She asked, and I nodded, slightly distracted now, hoping she wouldn’t turn around. “Dear Mom,” she began. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but...” To my surprise, another one fell, distracting me again from the note reading. She looked up from the paper, and I snapped my eyes back to her. If she saw anything worrying on my face, she must have attributed to the content of the note because she went on, describing her son’s troubles in his own words- I wish I could give you the specifics, but I don’t really remember- as another body fell. The EMTs were going to have a field day. Three in one day. That hadn’t happened since last December.  She finished in a sweep of tears “Love, Billy” and looked up at me, blinking her eyes. “I’m sorry,” She said. “You probably didn’t want to hear this, but it helped a lot just to have a stranger to talk to. Thank you for the tea. But I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” I nodded, sorry that she was going. I walked her out. In the hallway, she said “I hope I’m not out of line, but why do you live in such a horrible place? I mean, your apartment is nice, but what goes on here...” she shuddered. “Well,” I said, as I always do. “The rent is cheap. There are no neighbors. And the view is nice.” I shut the door.


Monica left the party in a hurry, her face red with the tears of shame. She looked back towards the big house where the party had been, hoping to find a a friendly face somewhere, but all she saw were the same people looked back at her. Some were the 30ish red heads holding flute glasses of champagne and various well to do husbands and boyfriends looking back through the windows and porches. It was almost as if they had formed a cordon around the house, making clear that she had been banished like Adam and Eve had been from the Garden of Eden. The rain started pelting on the top of her blue Ford Fairmont, which looked out of place in parking lot full of Porsches and Mercedes. Monica fumbled with her keys and got in the car. closed the door and sobbed as the rain came down even harder, cascading down the windshield blurring the light from the lamp posts. "Why,? Why?" She started the car and pulled out of the parking space and left the manor property and out into the night. Her doctor had told her that after her experiences, she should try to socialize more and try to resume some sense of normalcy. "Sometimes," he had said to her. "It's just as important to build new memories as it is to recover old ones." "Well doc, it's not easy socializing with anyone when you have a 6 year gap in your life. I mean, what will I say when people ask me what I have been doing for all this time. ' The little psychiatrist looked at Monica over her yellow legal pad for a moment. "Consider this an exercise for you. You see, the memories of those past 6 years are still there in your mind and yes, sometimes after a traumatic event, a lot of memories will get repressed. A lot of people say that the memories are simply buried beneath the surface; I would rather use the analogy of a dam that's blocking the river flow. Dams have to withstand a lot of pressure to keep the river from overflowing. That's why there's regular maintenance on them Sometimes, little cracks develop over time and some of the water comes through." "So you're saying that if I go ahead do some regular activities, I might gain some memory back?" She sighed. "it's possible. You never know." Now, several weeks later, there was nothing normal at all. She had gone to the party fully expecting to see her coworker, Madeline there. Madeline was always the social butterfly, flirting with the men and showing off her long red locks of hair playing with while teasing them. Monica was shy and had very mouse brown hair that drift lazily down her shoulders and very often wore broad, wire rim spectacles and was considered by most to be a sort of spinster. Madeline seemed to feel sorry for Monica and had invited her to this party; however, when she had arrived at the party, no one at the party seemed to know who Madeline was and denied any knowledge having invited either Madeline or Monica to the party. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, there was the incident in the main hall. Something happened.. .... but Monica drew a complete blank. All that she remembered was going into the main hall. There was a the winding staircase near the far wall that lead to the upper floors and in the center of the marble tiled floor was the oval shaped table filled with hors d'oeuvres and the ice sculpture in the middle. After that, there was nothing.. a blank space where another memory should be. The next thing she remembered was being face down on the marble tiled floor with her without any clothes on at all with a few bruises on her body. Some of the men at the party had leered at her and whistled but these were quickly ushered out of the room. The women had shaken their heads at her and none of them offered to lift a finger to assist her as she got up slowly. The only exception was the house maid who had found her clothes in the 2nd floor bathroom and the rest of her belongings. No one told her anything about what had happened. She kept on driving down the road and onto the interstate to find the hotel that she had used. Madeline had set up for previously and told her that she would meet her there before the party. Madeline never showed but she did call her. Surely she should be there by now. She arrived at the motel on the north side of town about an hour later and opened the door to the room. The wallpaper in it was peeling and the lamp was still on as was the heat and the room was not empty. Her psychiatrist was there waiting for her. "Where's Madeline?" Monica demanded. " What are you doing here? Madeline was supposed to be here." "It's okay, Monica. There's nothing to worry about Madeline is safe" "Safe?! I just went to a party like you said and I ended up face down on the floor, buck naked and everyone staring at me. Safe doesn't even fit. Now where is Madeline?" The Psychiatrist pulled a lighter from her pocket and lit a cigarette... then the sound of the television turning on... then nothing.... One day later, the news channel was playing in a room. "Breaking news. There was a mysterious death that occurred at a the mansion of the Petersons. Zach Peterson was found dead in his bedroom the morning after he had hosted a party. Witness say that they did notice anything unusual about Zach during the party and that he had danced through the night and was in a good mood. The cause of death is currently under investigation. " The psychiatrist looked at the woman in the hospital bed, holding the chart in her arms. "You did a good job" a man said. "absolutely brilliant. " He shook balding head in amazement. "A perfect killer with a perfect alibi as a girl found buck naked at a party. I don't know how you did it." The small woman gave a slight smirk. It's amazing what you can do with the human mind. In some ways, it's like a computer. You just partition off a section of it and fill it with what you need, then lock it off until it's needed. In this case, it turned a shy, awkward woman into a highly skilled killer. "Madeline.. Madeline......" the woman murmured. "Who is Madeline?," the balding man enquired. "That's her name", the psychiatrist replied. "The killer we created in the empty space of her mind"


The coals smolder among the morning dew on the grass. John and Euchivik lay on pelts strewn across the cold ground while the birds begin their songs. John stokes the remaining embers before placing a pot of water to boil. He admires Euchvik as her chest rises and falls. As John adds herbs to the pot, Euchvik makes her way out of the tent over to John and smacks the back of his head. She takes the herbs out of the boiling water before adding just one back. John watches as she adds the other herbs back in one at a time until the steep is done. They sit in silence briefly while sipping on the tea as an albino deer croses their path grazing just a few feet from them. After their drinks are finished, Euchvik tells John to help her pack up quickly so they can follow the deer. After the equipment is packed, Euchvik tracks the deer into the woods. Both of them notice the light begin to fade with each step. The tree trucks become wider and closer together. Euchvik stops in her tracks suddenly while John awaits her instructions. Carefully, the two of them slow their pace while continuing forward. Euchvik switches from being hyper aware of her surroundings to suddenly awestruck. She takes a stick from the ground and strikes the nearest tree. The entire forest lights up a vibrant magenta exuding from the source of the strike. Euchvik continues forward stopping every step watching as her feet light up as she smiles with glee. John has to jog just to keep up with her, yet still on guard. As John catches up to her, he observes the look on her face. She seems to be listening intently, although he can sense no danger in the immediate surroundings. John follows Euchvik a few more paces before the come to a stream of flowing water inside what looks like an aqueduct untouched by nature. The water is clear from the top with the sides and bottom the same bright magenta as before. Both of them look up from the stream to find an enormous structure with water flowing from the top at all sides and even more aqueducts leading to the center. They step over the stream together taking in the surroundings for a moment before Euchvik sits near one of the corners of the aqueducts. John keeps moving toward the center touching the columns with his fingers. There are no bumps or imperfections. No signs of decay or other life are present at the moment. The only sound is the water rushing past slowly. John turns to the middle startled for a moment. A woman stands in the center observing him. Not only are her clothes translucent, the women herself is see through. She becons him closer as John feels himself fighting a trance. His feet begin moving as the woman's arms open up to embrace him. Euchvik grabs his collar pulling him past herself and onto the ground as he returns his mind back to reality. He first looks to Euchvik before his eyes drift past her to the sheer drop just behind her. She grabs a leaf from her pocket and drops it into the water and watches it cycle around, dropping into the void like space.


The corpse laid about ten feet away from Remy, and he intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. The line of people waiting to greet him and his mother with their potentially genuine condolences were stretched outside of the door and lingered down the hallway. He noticed how most of the people were pleasantly chatting while exchanging smiles and muffled giggles just before approaching the altar and then suddenly donned their impressive looks of despair. They would bend down to his eye-level, making it feel like they were trying to probe his mind with their sympathies, when telling him how sorry they were for his loss. Remy’s mother was better at taking the brunt of the crowd, allowing his gaze to silently linger until he felt someone emerge beside him. “I feel like most of these people all bought new outfits just to show off at this wake,” June grumbled from behind him, making Remy almost crack a smile which encouraged June. “I’m only guessing that the crowd is this big because the church is expecting a sizable donation from Herb.” Remy winced. He hadn’t heard his grandfather’s name in over one week and somehow had already tried to forget the sound of it. Remy turned to look up at June who crouched over him with a warm smile and bountiful wrinkles. Her hair was pinned on top of her head and sprayed into place until it held like concrete. There was a smidge of lipstick on her front teeth, and she wore her usual blue afternoon dress. She beheld Remy warmly. “It’ll be over soon kiddo. Once these phonies clear away then you and your mom can go home.” Home...Home where Remy had always dreaded. Always created excuses to avoid. His home had become far too quiet after Grandpa Herb’s passing, too still for him to withstand it without biting his nails or humming to fill the void. He hated how the stillness made his mother just as on edge. An elbow caught him in his thin ribs, making him jolt and turn around to see his mother looking down at him with distraught features from grieving. Her bloodshot eyes and quivering lips made Remy feel rotten as she pointed to the stranger in front of the boy. “He’s trying to speak with you,” his mother told him before resuming shaking hands and welcoming others expressing condolences. Remy slowly looked up at the gangly old suit that stood before him with a man trapped inside of it. Only three hairs remained on top of his head, the rest of the hair was replaced with liver spots to detract from his tremulous hands reaching out to Remy. “Young man, I’m sure you’ll turn out as strong and as kind as your grandpappy,” he hoarsely greeted, not knowing how sick his words made Remy feel. As the hand reached and tried to clamp onto Remy’s shoulder, he instinctively flinched while raising his hands to his face with anticipation for a wallop that never came. He froze and waited. Slowly, Remy glanced between his fingers to see the old man confused and staring at him with his shaky hand paused in midair. “Let’s go,” June murmured from behind him. Remy abandoned his mother and the line of all-too-important grievers to scamper out of the great room, down the hall, opening multiple random doors until finding an empty meeting room with a single table and chairs. There were bibles and pamphlets scattered across the room that detailed support groups for those experiencing loss. June attempted to pick up one to fan the hyperventilating Remy. “That was Charles- Herb’s old high school buddy. They played ball together, I think,” June informed with one hand on her hip. “I don’t think he had spoken to Herb in about twenty years.” Remy didn’t feel any relief as he plopped into a chair that was far too big for him. He still couldn’t fathom Grandpa Herb passing. He had always been lively. Too lively. Far too much energy and spite for someone who had survived two heart attacks and one stroke. Despite being given so many chances at life, Grandpa Herb never did seem all that grateful for it. Remy’s knees bounced up and down as he tried to breathe through his nose. He could feel the pleather chair beneath his keister, the air conditioning above blowing the hair from his face, and the polyester fibers of his suit biting at his skin. He could hear the chatter and soft piano playing outside. He could see the beige patterned carpet below with mint walls adorning the room, along with June standing there watching him. He could taste a tinge of blood on his tongue as he bit down on it to keep his teeth from chattering. “You’re lookin’ thin,” June remarked, distracting Remy from trying to ground himself. “There’s a horde of older ladies out there that would love to feed you.” She wasn’t wrong. At least it didn’t include addressing people who wanted to say how sorry they were for losing Grandpa Herb. He nodded and stood, trying to sneakily duck out of his hiding spot before bee-lining for the kitchen, like a derby horse straight out of the gates, all the while trying to avoid eye contact with his mother. He couldn’t understand why she was crying so much. She had even started crying when making coffee in the morning. It wasn’t as though Grandpa Herb had been any kinder to her than he had been to Remy. He was the only one who knew to look for the small scar behind her ear that his mother kept concealed by wearing her hair down. June followed hastily behind Remy to the kitchen, scanning their surroundings to alert Remy if needed. They luckily both made it to the kitchen unscathed from any grievers so that Remy could wrench for one, two, three ham sandwiches and a chocolate chip cookie. He didn’t bother eating them there, but instead stuffed them into his coat pockets for later just in case of...Remy paused at the thought...He didn’t need to stash his food. The only reason he would have was laying fifty feet away in a wooden casket. He peered down at the sandwiches in his hands before bothering to take one bite, but out of habit, returned them safely to his pockets. When Remy drew his attention away from his food, he found June wasn’t there. He was once again surrounded by other busying bodies. The crowd could have easily swallowed him. They brushed past him in their own quest to fill their grieving bellies, heckling and jeering yet still so close to a corpse. Remy thought he’d be able to emerge intact until he heard someone calling his name behind him. He slowly turned to see a pair of lips masked in lipstick and a sequin black dress that hit the floor with a woman squeezed inside of it. She smiled and bent down to him followed by a cloud of her perfume that made Remy’s eyes water. “You’re Charlotte’s boy, ain’t’cha?” she asked. Remy nodded. The lady tilted her head to the side and clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk, sure is terrible what your poor family has been through and not long after the death of your sweet Mamaw. Well,” she said while pointing at Remy, making him want to recoil. “I know your grandpa was a wonderful man of God and must be overjoyed with your Mamaw now in heaven. Don’t you think?” Remy mindlessly nodded while reaching to chew on his nailbeds. The lady’s smile widened as she reached into her purse and pulled out a cookie. “Have another on me,” she offered. Remy glanced behind her at the bountiful table of free cookies but reached out to receive her supposed gesture of kindness. She held tight onto the cookie. “And my thoughts and prayers are with you,” she said before releasing the cookie and finally freeing Remy from her miasma of perfume and half-hearted sympathy. Remy had to get out of there. He quickly paced out of the kitchen to veer into an adjacent hallway where he finally found June speaking with some stranger. They were quietly nodding and mumbling while Remy could feel his patience dwindling with the daylight. Remy marched up to her with a scowl and his hands thrown out to the sides, before gesturing to the stranger next to her. June scoffed and waved him off before turning to her new friend. “Remy, this is Louis. He was just next door and got a bit lost.” Louis had wide eyes and a potbelly with about two double chins that were exacerbated when looking down at Remy. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t meant to steal your friend.” “Oh, you did no such thing. You can hang out with me if you want until you feel like trying to find your family,” June comforted while sending knowing looks to Remy. Remi’s shoulders fell in exasperation before nodding in agreement, making Louis once flat affect gain a little glint of hope. At first, Remy didn’t mind when June befriended strangers, but it was starting to feel as if she were actively seeking them out rather than looking out for him. At least Louis seemed harmless enough. Remy just hoped that he didn’t follow them home. The boy coped with the annoyance by cramming a cookie into his mouth, letting it absorb all the moisture on his tongue before he dryly swallowed. He almost choked when he heard the screeching. Everyone jolted as the hollers boomed and penetrated the walls of the funeral home, making Remy cringe as he recognized the sound of his mother at her wits end. “I can’t look at him anymore!” her broken voice found his ears just as June rapidly emerged next to Remy. “Go take care of her,” she ordered, and Remy did so, almost automatically like an endless and cold routine for him. Having tried to avoid the altar beforehand, Remy actively sought it out and dodged around curious grievers as he dove between legs and around pews before finding his mother on her knees with the palms of her hands pressed into her eyes. Mascara was dripping down her cheeks as wails erupted from her gaping mouth. She was surrounded by curious and concerned strangers who all tried to reach for her, but Remy found her first. He knew to reach and cradle her head in his arms before softly stroking her yellow hair. He intentionally swept her hair over her ears so that no one saw her secret scars. Remy hummed lightly and could feel his mother relaxing against him. Her breathing shuddered but gradually evened in Remy’s grasp. Mascara was still making roadmaps across her cheeks when she looked up to her son and grasped his shoulders. She saw his forced, gentle smile and squeezed him. “My brave boy, don’t you take a day off?” she asked like it was supposed to be a joke. Neither of them laughed. Instead, a mighty hand was placed on Remy and his mother. They both glanced up to see one of the younger grievers whom Remy had seen at school a few times. His gym teacher? He couldn’t remember, but he recalled feeling thankful as the man helped his mother to her feet and ushered her to a nearby pew “Let’s take a break, Charlotte," he murmured to her, almost enshrouding and shielding her with his massive shoulders from other nosy grievers. He looked down at Remy. “You’ve done well, young man. I can sit with her if you’d like me to,” he offered, which was refreshing. He nodded in response, with the gym teacher stating, “Say no more,” as if they had some pact between them, from one man to another. And it was strange to Remy...but good. It was as if the larger man had an understanding as he sat next to his mother who voluntarily lost all her composure in the man’s arms. Her cries were the familiar foundation of Remy’s bitter memories. He slowly turned away from her and looked at the casket before him. It was a plain brown box. There were hardly any flowers that adorned it, and even the supposed shine on the wood looked dull in the overhead lights. Grandpa Herb still probably would have thought it too extravagant. His mother couldn’t stand looing at Grandpa Herb, and Remy had outright tried to avoid it. But...could he do it so his mother didn’t have to? “If you want,” June’s voice lulled beside of him. “I’ll stand there next to you.” Remy glimpsed to June, seeing her sweet disposition clouded with Remy’s mirrored discomfort, before looking back to the casket and taking a large step forward. He held his breath and clenched his hands into white knuckled fists as he approached Grandpa Herb laying motionless in his box. As Remy dared closer, he saw the corpse’s hands folded over his chest with his jaw protruding from his face. His skin almost looked waxy and shined more than the wooden casket, like an uncanny mannequin. Remy shivered. Grandpa Herb’s shoulders were sharp even when being buried in a suit with shoulder pads, and despite being completely motionless, Remy fully expected to see the waxy lips curl into a snarl. For once, Remy didn’t want to chew his nailbeds. He didn’t tap his foot nor chatter his teeth while gazing down at the corpse. It looked fake. Somehow the real Grandpa Herb was going to pop out any second and curse Remy for being so meek. The boy even dared to lean over the casket to get a closer look, seeing how the eyes were glued shut and fingers stiffly weaved together. Grandpa Herb was still. Still as death, and somehow that made Remy release a long sigh he didn’t know he was still holding onto. The muscles in Remy’s face almost burned with the want to smile. The thunderous nights were over for Remy and his mother. They could find their own peace, their own happiness, in a life without Grandpa Herb. Remy thought he knew how to find that kind of happiness. He had known it when his Mamaw was alive and was the shield that every child deserved. Maybe he could recreate that someday if he tried. Looking next to him, Remy saw June’s eyes transfixed on Grandpa Herb as she reached to place a steady hand on Remy’s shoulder. He felt nothing. Her head shook and sucked in her wrinkled lips when saying, “Damn that man. Damn him and everything he ever did.” Remy reached to place his hand over hers, only experiencing a cool gust of air rather than the warm touch he remembered. “Will I see him?” he croaked. “Like I see you, Mamaw?” “No, baby,” she hushed. “No, I would never let him appear to you. I promise.” Remy smiled. His hand fell while he turned away from the casket. He knew Mamaw June was behind him, always following him, always watching, and he felt as he neared an unfamiliar peace that she too would soon find hers.


Hey Redditors. Iv'e decided to share my story. Iv'e always been fascinated by breaching security, exploring things or secrets that weren't available to other people. Both in computers and physical matters. This is my story so please enjoy it. I don't know if this really belongs on short stories, since it's not a fictional story, but I thought you guys might find it interesting. **TL;DR** Some friends and i discovered unknown secret tunnels under our high school. Over weeks we discovered and mapped out a big part of the tunnel system. I'm now 18 and only have memories and pictures to look back at. Last school year (2011/2012) I was an exchange student in USA, Wisconsin. (I'm from Denmark). Btw best year iv'e ever had, with lifelong friendships made. I returned home to Denmark 7 months ago, and started school. This happened exactly one year ago. It all started with a friend of mine (senior at the time) came to me and said he had something crazy to tell me. It was kind of a rush hour so i didn't have time to stop and listen. Later that day we met in lunch break and he told me that he had been in the schools maintenaince room and had seen a dark square (3x3 ft) in the wall down a staircase. He that it was some kind of underground tunnel system under the school. I thought he was stupid and didn't think much about it. Now in the school i attended for a year and the daily routine consisted of normal classes and a 9th hour/homeroom in the end of the day, where it was possible to study or do your homework. The class was from 3:00 to about 3:40. I forgot all about his little tunnel story and almost two weeks went by till we came by the subject again. I was sitting peacefully in 9th hour and doing my homework when i saw someone knocked on the door. I looked up and there was my friend, lets call him Christian. Christian had excitement in his eyes and he did a throw with his hand plus a nod with his head to signal, that I should come out. I asked the teacher if i could go to the bathroom quick. (At this school you could get in trouble if you walked in the hallway without a pass for the restroom or wherever you were going) He wrote me a pass and I walked silently but determined out. Christian basically bombed me with the information that he had been "in the tunnels". I thought he was being crazy again and laughed at him, but he kept explaining the whole thing precisely and trustworthy and I started believing him more and more. My eye slid down to his knees and palms and I was soon to discover a enormous amount of dust and dirt on them. The tip of his shoes had some on them as well as he had been crawling somewhere. A few days later I couldn't help my curiosity. I had to see if this was true. In 9th hour I got a pass to go to the restroom and knowing I had limited time i rushed down the long hallways with a friend to the mechanical maintenance room. I quickly entered, put on a flashlight on my phone and started searching the big dark room for unknown enterings or exits. Two minutes after my friend had to leave of fear from getting caught by one of the janitors that could walk in any second and get our butts in trouble. I took me 15 minutes, but finally, down a staircase, down a ladder, into what seemed like a small pool around 7 ft deep, in the corner was a little square entering. I could barely spot it with my phone light. I crawled down and had a quick peek inside. After this i was eager to crawl in and look, but i had already been gone for 20 minutes, and i knew that would only cover for a long toilet visit, and I went back to the classroom. At this point I was hooked. No matter what I did, or when I did it, for the next 24 hours, this was permanently on my mind. I was curious and excited to figure this thing out. The next day I couldn't wait for 9th hour. The day went by so slow and it seemed like forever till the class started. Thinking that the teacher wouldn't write me a pass if i asked to go to the restroom right after a 6 minutes break, I waited. at 3:20 i got my pass, rushed to the maintenance room, ran down the stairs, down the ladder in to the pool and went in the tunnel. I had asked Christian to meet me there at 3:20. He showed up and told me that he actually didn't go in that hole, but in another path about 6 ft long that went into the basement in the other side of the room. I checked it out and it wasn't even a path, more just like a whole into the basement. We went over to the path i discovered and peeked in. It was a 3x3 ft hole going in as far as we could see. I jumped in first and Christian after and we started crawling on hands and knees in the dark. We were soon to discover turns in the tunnel everywhere. Everytime we took a right or left turn there were turns both ways, and the path would always end up in to seperate ways. Shortly after, due to physical requirements, excitement and a crapload of dust and dirt in the air, it got really hard to breath in there, and we went out. Up in the normal school light we were sweaty, and covered with an orangy dust powder. We had to see more. But we needed to plan it out. We couldn't just go to the restroom every day and coming back looking like we attended World War II. Teachers would get suspicious, and the risk of getting caught was too high. Therefore we went back to class and made a shopping list of what we needed. Same day we took a trip to Walmart and got the necessary things. Flashlights, kneepads, gloves, painting masks for dust, camera, change of clothing, blueprints and pencils. I managed to steal a whole block of passes so we could fake signatures and write passes to study hall, library or other teachers classrooms to cover up our actions. Also we needed a different time to enter, and a different way to get out. We came up with bringing a mirror to look around the edges when we exited the room. In the school there was a red blueprint painting hanging in the wall. I took a snapshot of it and after 15 minutes with my enormously bad photoshop skills i made it black and white and printed some copies out. We were now ready to note every single little turn we explored under there. We also got two other friends involved, and we created a hidden closed Facebook group for us. Friday night there was a basketball game at the school. What a perfect opportunity. School was open and no one in the hallways. We packed bags from home. Once the game was on, we four friends snuck into the maintenance room, and into the tunnel. We equipped all of our gear and began our journey. We had a lead guy at front, a flashlight guy, a map writer and a camera guy at the end. We had also purchased 1000 ft of line that we tied somewhere in the maintenance room. and took with us in. It functioned as a kind of safety so we always could find our way out. After almost 2 hours in there. We went out. We had discovered endless turns and paths and about 700 ft of tunnel was mapped down. The following fridays we planned to go down there again. We knew the routine, once the game started we snuck in the tunnel and started our mapping. We took a whole new section of the school every time. We could hear and calculate due to the game when we were under the gym, the cafeteria, classrooms and and all the other rooms. I'm a big guy 6'4", and i had quite some trouble crawling around down there. One of the times i was freaking out because I was running (as good as possible down there) and I got breathless because of the dust. After that I never did anything physical exhausting while in the tunnels. We went down there about four times and the last time was the most interesting. It was only me and Christian, and we decided to explore the left side of the school. On our way down the tunnels we saw writing on the walls. It looked like someone made arrows down there. There was also a few cigarette butts and some cans of some kind. We continued and saw a yellow pipe running across the path. We spend about 5 minutes discussing what it was, but it seemed like the answer came to us. All of a sudden two girly voices got exceptionally clear. We looked at the blueprints and our position fit perfectly under the girls restroom. The voices were clear and we were sure we were just a few feet under the restroom. Even the footsteps were clear through the floor. We sat there for about 10 minutes enjoying our achievement, but then decided to keep going. (We weren't able to see anything) We continued into a big wide space. The feeling of standing up for the first time in three hours was amazing. It was exactly under the staircase. There was a metal plate in the wall, and we recognized it from the hallways. We had found another entering. Unfortunately it was locked. We also looked up in a hole with a bunch some pipes and wires and discovered a bag of funions shoved up in there. How the heck did these come up there? We took a few pictures and took the 25 minute journey crawling all the way out. We jumped through the little hole to the basement and exit through there. No one saw us. Monday morning we went above ground of where we were on the friday. We looked down the thermostat of a radiator and concluded that the bag of funions were down there, most likely shoved down from above. The basketball season ended a few days after there. Even though we talked a lot about going back, we didn't To this day i still regret not finished the mapping down there. Later on we explored some abandoned buildings and train wagons, but nothing gave me the same adrenalin kick as these tunnels. We talked about them to my friends father who knew a janitor on the school. He told us that these were quite common tunnels in every high school design. They were made to access all the heat, and water pipes running to all the classrooms. After some research we found people all over America that had discovered these tunnels too. I guess in the end they weren't that secret and exciting, but I got my rush from them. We told a few people about it and showed them the pictures, but it's kind of forgotten to this day. Only my memories and pictures keeps this alive. Here are the whole picture album. Unfortunately I didn't take enough photos, this is all I have. Iv'e decided to hide our identity since I haven't asked or have got their permission to post their faces. I am the guy with the blue gloves. I put a lot of work and a few hours into this post and I'm new on Reddit, so if you read the whole story please take your time to share your response, your thoughts or similar stories with me :-) Please excuse me for grammar mistakes etc. -Johspwns.


‘Private Jimmy, join your comrades in the sand!’ Said, Sergeant Davidson. ‘Yes, sir,’ I said, my right arm boomeranged to my head, my fingers extended on my forehead. Beads of sweat trickled down my fingers, they felt like my only companions. The liquid horizon crested and receded like waves of heat, distorted by the scorching air. ‘Focus on the mission, defend the water,’ I told myself, sprinting to the heaps of rock on the battlefield. An unwelcome blanket of heat wrapped around my body, and what felt like a noose of fire snaked around my neck, vaporising any air left in my red, hot lungs. This wasn’t the kind of embrace I wanted. The sand was getting closer. Sparks of light glinted off the earthy, golden pearls, and danced like fairies of light. I focused on their beauty to distract myself from the monster that was waiting for me. ‘Maybe I should be grateful,’ I thought, ‘I’ll have the opportunity to make some new friends.’ It’s getting closer. The hot, grey rocks were two ladders tall by the looks of it. ‘Get down!’ A nameless soldier pulled me down behind a rocky barricade, making me but one drop among the sea of anonymous soldiers. ‘Hi, what’s your name?’ I asked, ‘There’s no time for that, soldier,’ his voice was panicked and forceful. ‘Take this,’ he shoved a heavy, green gun into my chest, the thud of the impact scrunched my face, making it even more difficult to breathe. Breaking News: Global Evacuations Underway as Deadly Heatwave Intensifies. ‘Hey, you, climb over and take a look for us,’ one green man said to me. ‘No, you do it,’ his friend replied. Maybe he’ll like me if I do it. My legs slowly pushed off the floor, and I clutched the rungs of the ladder, pulled myself up. I needed to see for myself. Time slowed down as my eyes peer above our defence. A garden of thorny roses scraped against the inside of my stomach. Coldness washed over me, and my shaking legs lost their grip. The blistering sand caught my face on the landing, ‘Are you okay? What did you see?’ Endless faces stared me down, their eyes interrogated me, curious for answers. I knew they were all as scared as I was, but I couldn’t let them know that. Waves of apocalyptic fire rippled from the mass of burning gas, setting the air alight. Hues of deep orange stretched across the horizon, oppressing everything in its wake. Flares of yellow lashed from its body like whips, slicing through the air. We knew it was miles away, but its presence was undeniable, even from here. The soldiers’ wide eyes locked onto mine, shock possessed their faces. I continued explaining what I saw, trying to be clear but my words were confused. They were all looking at me. ‘We have to fight that thing?’ There was worry in his voice. ‘I’m not doing it,’ another said. Panic spread along the fighting lines like wildfire, and they were looking not at me but at each other. But I didn’t mind, I was only thinking of my father. I let myself collapse and pressed my back against the hot rocks. Sitting there, the world fell silent for a moment, and I pulled out an old photograph: frayed at the edges, and dirty and creased, but seeing myself with my father, smiling, there was beauty underneath that damage, memories of a lifetime long gone. The smell of fresh bread in the morning and the feel of his warm laughter took over my body. I gravitated towards its warmth like it was the first time I had ever felt the sun on my face. ‘Okay girls, on your feet!’ His voice was commanding and compelled my body to stand, I hide the photograph. Sargeant Davidson stood in front of us and stared us down with brilliant blue eyes, clear and focused, underneath furrowed brows. ‘Behind this barricade is an unrelenting enemy, and it wants to steal your water!’ His eyes fixed onto mine and he strode towards me, ‘Do you know what that means, Private Jimmy?’ He asked. ‘No, sir,’ I replied, trying to keep my composure. ‘It means no more water balloon fights with daddy, are you gonna let that happen?’ ‘No sergeant,’ I made sure my voice was loud and clear, so he didn’t ask me to repeat myself. ‘Good,’ he said, ‘so, get on those ladders, and climb over that barricade...’ Boots hit the rungs and thunder roared through the landscape, green men with guns in hand facing death, ‘... and shoot the sun.’ A sea of men washed onto the scorching sand and rushed towards the sun like a tsunami, their focus sharp and cold, or at least it appeared that way. ‘Fire!’ One man commanded. An ocean of bullets exploded forth and arched through the sky with dreadful speed. ‘Keep going!’ ‘What are you still doing here, Private Jimmy?’ said Sargeant Davidson, each word dripped with fury, ‘climb that ladder now!’ Pointing at the barricade, his red anger competing with the redness from exhaustion for dominance over his face. ‘But I wanted to stay with you, Dad,’ I said. Footsteps flew up the stairs and my creaky, white door swung wide open, ‘Jimmy! I told you we have to leave, get ready,’ said Martha, she brought her fingertips to her nose, rubbing away her frustration. ‘God, you’ve gotten sand everywhere,’ there’s a hint of fear in her voice, but I can see she’s mostly annoyed. ‘Clean your toys away,’ a line of small, plastic army men stood facing a crumpled orange piece of paper, and behind them: a row of pebbles and behind those: a red plastic cup of water. The sandpit hosting the battlefield was square with a wooden red boundary. ‘Can I play for five more minutes?’ I asked. ‘No,’ said Martha, ‘this is serious, we need to go.’ A sharp knock echoed through the house; Martha’s eyes darted behind her. ‘Who’s that?’ I asked. ‘Come on,’ she pulled at my arm. She opened the door and a tall man dressed in camouflage forced his way into the house. ‘Martha, I’m glad you’re okay,’ his arms wrapped around her tightly and worry plagued his face. ‘I tried calling but the power’s out all across the country,’ he said. ‘I know,’ said Martha, ‘I put the backup generator on, but Stewart-’ she took a moment to process the situation, ‘I thought you weren’t back for another year?’ My smile was unrelenting and bright, ‘Daddy,’ I said, and ran to him, hugging his waist. He kneeled, my face in his hands, ‘I missed you, Jimmy,’ he said. ‘I missed you, too, Dad,’ I said, ‘or should I say Sergeant Davidson,’ and I gave him a salute. He giggled. ‘Can we play today?’ I asked. ‘Of course we can Jimmy. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much’, he said, his voice now softer, ‘but my army buddies are outside, and they said you can sit in the driver’s seat of the Jeep,’ his thumb brushed over my cheek, and he looked up, throwing a concerned look at Martha. ‘Okay,’ I said, excited. He stood, ‘Go get the emergency suitcases, darling, we can’t stay here anymore.’ ‘I still don’t understand,’ Martha said, ‘is what they said on the news really that bad? They said to evacuate.’ ‘Yeah,’ sorrow washed over his face, ‘they’re flying us to Greenland, but we need to leave now.’ I stood on the hard steps outside the front door and watched plumbs of black smoke in the distance float into the sky, and fights between neighbours’ spill into the streets. The world was burning, and people were scared, but at least I didn’t feel lonely anymore. I’m with Dad now.