Deep in the dark forest was a crumbling old cottage. The wind howled in through the cracks in the frames like a pack of hungry Wolves. A tiny fire was the only warmth in the house and this barely gave out enough heat for the small living room, never mind the rest of the house. The rotten window frames and damaged tiles did nothing to help the bleak atmosphere. The life and love had long since left the house; the crumbling exterior looked like a silhouette of a previous existence. “I’m fffreezing” Howard stammered, he was only eight years old and he was shaking so much his teeth were chattering. “Put on another jumper then. It`s not cold in here” his bossy stepmother Divina lied. She was wearing a long fur coat made from various dead animals and a frightening foxes head rested on her shoulders. It gave poor Howard nightmares. “Come on Howard I'll help you find another jumper” his big sister Angela, who was thirteen put her arm around him and took him to the bedroom. “Can't you do something with these kids David?” Divina moaned, ”If we didn't have to feed and clothe them we could afford some repairs to this house”. Divina had plenty of money hidden away but she only wanted to spend it on herself. David was a weak and pathetic man. “I know my love, but we can't just throw them out into the forest. A few years and they'll be old enough to leave home.” The children returned with more layers on, poor Howard was looking like a sumo wrestler and moving stiffly because his clothing restrained him so much. “You two need to go and get some more wood for the fire”. Divina shouted irritated by their very presence, “Come with me and I'll show you where to look.” Her face twisted into a wicked grin. Divina took the children along the dark path ,deep into the forest. As they walked further in following the twisted, snaking path, the atmosphere appeared to change, becoming strangely eerie and foreboding. The air heavy and thick. Their feet crunched and cracked the lifeless branches which punctuated the silence then crumbled beneath him. The sky vanished completely underneath the rich overhanging canopy of the interwoven branches. The occasional scrabble of insects burrowing beneath the leafy carpet of tangled vegetation contrasted with the stillness of the forest. She stopped when she got to the large black and yellow sign on the barbed wire fence. It read danger keep out. She pointed her long, bony finger. “You need to look for wood in there”. “But it says danger keep out”. Howard replied looking scared. “Don't be silly, that sign has been up for years, there's no danger anymore.” She looked around hoping that no one else heard her blatant lie. She lifted up the corner of the wire fence and there was a space small enough for a child to crawl through. “Off you go and don't come back until you've got enough firewood for a week.” “But, but ... “Howard started. “But nothing! You need to earn your keep.” She pushed Howard with an almighty shove and he ended up under the fence. Angela followed him dutifully. Divina barely got out of earshot before letting out a loud, evil cackle. The children struggled through the brambles and the overgrown bushes, both of them tore their clothing on the sharp thorns. “I want to go home.” Howard whined “Let's turn around.” “Divina and dad will be cross with us if we don't bring the firewood back and the house will be warmer if we get it, come on, keep going.” Angela urged. After an hour of slow progress, they were both tired hungry. Angela stopped “I grabbed us some biscuits on the way out, let's sit down and eat them, get our energy back.” They sat in silence and ate the biscuits quickly and hungrily. “Look over there!” Angela shouted excitedly,” I think I can see a light on, it must be a house”. “Where?” Howard stood on his tip toes.” I see it, I see it.” They both set off in the direction of the light, every step they took brought them closer to the light until finally they were at the gate. The warm glow of the kitchen was like a lighthouse calling them home from the rough seas. Angela knocked boldly on the door using the weird brass knocker shaped like some sort of demon. She gave an involuntary shiver, while Howard stood shyly behind her. There was no answer. Angela knocked again. “I think it's open” she whispered .She turned the handle and the door opened. “Hello, is anyone home?” Angela shouted. No answer “Let's go in.” Angela suggested and timidly stepped over the threshold, down the neat hall and into the kitchen. The table was set for lunch with three steaming bowls of soup on the place-mats cooling. “I'm so hungry” moaned Howard. He sat down and tasted the hearty soup, within the minutes he had finished the lot. “This house is so warm and cozy and I'm so tired. Could we just rest here for a while?” Howard pleaded. Angela looked at his tired little face and nodded. He went upstairs and opened the first bedroom door and went into it and sunk onto the bed. “This bed is too hard” he said and he got up quickly. He walked into the second bedroom sinking into the bed. “Aw this bed is perfect” he announced and promptly fell asleep. Angela sat quietly on the bed beside him, keeping watch and listening for the house occupier’s return. The door slamming made Angela jump. She must have fallen asleep. “Quick Howard, wake up.” she whispered. They crept to the stairs and heard voices; one said “Someone's been eating our soup.” The second voice shouted “Come out wherever you are or we will banish you to kingdom come”. The third voice shouted “This is your last chance”. Angela stepped warily into the kitchen and nearly fainted in horror when she came face to face with three witches. The women were all very different in height, weight and shape, an odder looking bunch you would be hard pressed to find. “We're so sorry it was us, my brother was so hungry and tired he ate your soup.” She bowed her head in shame. “That soup was special soup with magical powers; it gives the person who eats it three wishes. You need to use them very carefully”. The three witches warned. “Now you'd better go home before its dark”. Angela and Howard chatted excitedly as they left about what wishes they should ask for. Howard looked at all the brambles and the long way ahead and said loudly, ”I wish we were already home with lots of firewood”. There was a rumbling sound and a loud whoosh and the children were outside their door with one hundred logs of firewood at their feet. Divina heard them at the door. “What are you two doing back?” she hissed and spat at them, then noticed David behind her “Err so soon.” She added “We've got the firewood”. David said pleased with himself “and two wishes”. “Two wishes” Divina repeated, “I don't believe you”. Which was ironic because she was the liar. “It’s true” Angela said. Divina said “You're always saying you're cold, fix this house, make it warm and cozy” Howard closed his eyes and said his wish, “I wish this house could be warm and cozy and all repaired.” Suddenly the house changed, everything looked brand new, the fire burned brightly in the hearth and the room was cozy and warm. Divina`s eyes lit up. “So you have one more wish left, wish for ten bags of gold, no wait, a hundred bags of gold, no make me the most beautiful woman in the world . Wait, I need to think about this.” Divina scratched her chin in thought. “But it's my wish” Howard whined Divina clipped his ear “Don't be so ungrateful I've always looked after you and you're not even my child”. Howard shouted “I wish you were gone” before putting his hand over his mouth. She disappeared in a puff of smoke. The house was cozy and warm, Divina had disappeared and they all lived happily ever after, except for Divina of course, but she didn't deserve to did she?


DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT???? LET ME TELL YOU A STORY...... It was a chill noon.The weather was cold. serena picks her jacket and waits for her mother. serena is 10 years old.she looks beautiful and she always smiles with her heart. After serena's mother comes from upstairs they both went to shopping mall.. when they reached the mall serena's mom was busy with talking her friends. In the meantime serena went to see the new collection toys. she searched for a nice toy more than 20 mins. after 20 mins her eyes started to like one teddy with a quote "I am alone take me with you". After seeing that quote she decide to take it home. she went to find his mother and she brings her mother to the toy section but she was shocked.The teddy was not there.Her mother understands the situation from her face and she asked the salesman about that teddy.while she was asking serena started to walk with a sad face.suddenly a boy rushed into serena. serena fell down. The boy helped serena and she wake up.The boy looked into serena's eyes and serena looked into the boy's eyes and they were started to staring each other. The boy also looked like 10 years old.Even though they want to looked away they cannot able to blink their eyes from each other.Their heart is full with joy.when serena's mom return she saw the boy with a teddy and asked serena "Is that the teddy you want?" she came back into the real world and looked that teddy and she shake her head with a smile. With her smile the boy understands that she want it and he give it to her .Then he said " Treat the teddy like your family".she smiles and shake her head.Then she started to walk with her mother. after for a few weeks the boy is in search of that girl.but he couldn't find her. Years passed the boy turned into handsome man ; Serena turned into a gorgeous woman everything is started to change but their heart is not changed. Both of them were thinking about each other, but they couldn't able to find each other.one day Serena read a newspaper she saw a headline " THE PEOPLE OF GENOVIA WELCOMES THEIR NEW PRINCE DAN BRYANT" .Then she looked the picture and she saw the eyes of that prince.she realized it was the boy who she met her 10 years back. when she realized he is a prince, she stopped dreaming about him.she seems so sad.She thinks that a girl like her cannot able to end up with the prince.On the other hand the prince was thinking about her so badly. At that time the prince went to toy shop in mall as usual to search her but this time he found Serena's mother and he introduce himself as a boy with teddy and he asked about Serena . The prince explains about himself and her love and attraction towards Serena .Serena's mother seems shock.Then she tells about Serena that she is a good kind hearted girl , may be she likes you too but she is a dumb.she cannot able to speak since birth.She cannot able to marry a prince like you."I AM SORRY". Then Serena's mother left.After serena's mother returned to home she tells about the prince.serena was sad but her heart was filled with joy that the boy remembers her. Next day the prince was standing in front of serena's house and ring the bell.when serena came and open the door , she was happy to see that eyes once again they were again looking into each other.The prince came to serena's house with the king and queen of genovia(his mom and dad) .serena's mother looked confused .All over the press is in front of the serena's house the prince standing in the door step and he suddenly take a ring and kneel down in front of serena and he told This is going to sound crazy, but...from the moment I first set eyes on you I haven't been able to stop thinking about you ,"WILL YOU MARRY ME?" serena smiled with her heart and shake his head, they kissed each other.The people of genovia were in happy about his new beautiful countess.The king and queen were happy.serena's mother seems happy.After a few years he become the King of genovia and he married serena. KING DAN BRYANT AND QUEEN SERENA BRYANT lived a happy love life with their kids.


So I'm 16 and was assigned a short story assignmentin english to write about a "grotesque character". I was wondering if I could get feedback about anything you notice that could be improved or was overlooked when I edited or even just writing tips... thanks! ~1400 words I apologize for formatting... ** friend.** "*Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.*" - C.S. Lewis He trudged through the snow of the harsh Alaskan winter; the snow engulfed the ankles of his black snow boots and went up to his knees. The cold winter chill turned his nose and face red and was beginning to freeze the snow on his hat and gloves. Carrying animal pelts from his recent hunt, 28-year-old Bernard Helmholtz, a fur dealer, heads towards his home to prepare the pelts for sale. As he trudges along through the under the faint moonlit sky in the Alaskan night, he sees one other person in his entire 13-mile trek. The small town of Ketchikan, Alaska is home to several hundred inhabitants who all know Helmholtz as the man who sells pelts in the town. He is a reasonably tall man with shaggy black hair and an unkempt beard that doesn’t connect to his mustache. He has an athletic build with pale, hairy skin and even paler blue eyes. Helmholtz is a timid and quiet man, not only because he is mute, but because he lives alone. He lives in the hills on the outskirts of town and makes little contact with people with the exception of his monthly sales. Living in Ketchikan since birth, Helmholtz is familiar with most members of the town. The people of Ketchikan have little to do with him because no one is able to, or desires to, communicate with him. Helmholtz hasn’t been mute since birth, he stopped speaking in his later adolescent years from intense psychological trauma. Garrity Helmholtz, his father, was an alcoholic and abused Bernard for much of his childhood. Lashing out at Bernard for small offenses, Bernard is often reminded of his childhood by the scars from thick leather belts on his back and arms which he tries to keep hidden. By hiding his scars, he often hides himself. His mother divorced his father and left the family when he was young causing his father to spiral out of control in his own life and into control of Bernard’s life. Bernard never had friends and never received a formal education. The only person he was ever close to was his older half-brother, Winston, who taught him how to read and write as a child. One morning in Bernard’s childhood, his brother was teaching him in the dingy basement of their tiny house when their dad came down to get more whiskey. Garrity was adamantly against having Bernard become literate. Those were the last few minutes Bernard ever saw of his beloved brother. Garrity grabbed him by the collar and dragged him upstairs and all Bernard heard was Winston’s struggles and screams coming from the kitchen. The worst sound Bernard ever heard was the sound of his brother’s murder and watching the viscous blood dribble down the stairs scared him more than anything he would ever witness in his life. Bernard could tolerate his father’s rule with the accompaniment of his brother. When his brother was killed, so was Bernard’s ability to cope. Everyone he loved was gone. When he spoke he was hit. Garrity didn’t want his son to develop a personality so he couldn’t hurt him like his mother had. When he spoke he was punished and when he cried he was beaten. Bernard’s safety stemmed from his silence. The only form of salvation were the small dreams that he wrote down. His writing was how he kept his brother alive. It kept him sane. The dreams he had were the only way for him to escape his miserable existence. But even in his dreams his father was there - beating him. He physically and mentally curled up into a ball and was unable to express his desire for true human connection. What he wanted most in life was for his brother to come back and to forge a meaningful relationship with another human being. Years later, after his father’s death, the mental scarring from his childhood warped his perception of others. Everyone who became close to him either died or couldn’t handle his problems and left. There was no one and Bernard was on his own. As an adult he found a job and stayed in his tiny old home that set him far away from people. He wanted more than anything to be connected with people but the townspeople saw him as a freak. He lived on the outskirts of town and wouldn’t - couldn’t - properly communicate with them. The town doctors assumed he was sick in the head and left him alone. No one knew of his past and no one bothered to find out. Bernard still writes his dreams of being with people down on the little scraps of paper from sale receipts. He looks at them and weeps as he burns them into ashes. As he sits alone in his room he dreams of others. He hears voices. Voices of his mother, the screams of his brother, and the scolding of his father all continue to haunt him. He often looks out the window and sees a person passing only to open to the door to greet them when nothing is there. As he reaches his home in the midst of the night he sets the dead bodies of the animals in his freezer. He pulls one out and sets it on his cold, steel table. He uses the same knife his father used on his brother to gut the animals he hunts. For Bernard it is a release - a release of pent up aggression towards the man who warped his current psychological being. As he carves the animal open and removes the innards he hears a faint knocking at the door. He assumes he is hearing things again and nods his head as he continues to skillfully remove the skin from the animal. He hears a louder rapping at his door. He assumes it must be an animal so he grips his knife harder until his knuckles are white like the ivory handle of the knife. He walks to the door and opens it. Before him stands a girl - a petit young girl with wavy blond hair glistening in the yellow light of his porch lamp. He relaxes his grip and stares as if he is looking into her soul. Wearing his apron splattered with blood and holding a knife, the girl is visibly uncomfortable. She warily asks to use his phone. He nods and steps out of the way of the door and points her in the direction of the phone. She walks over to it and looks visibly distressed from the pungent odor of the animals and taste of fresh blood in the air. With Bernard still staring, she begins to dial the phone. She turns to him after a few minutes and asks if he has another phone because she doesn’t hear any sound. Bernard, awkward and uncomfortable in the presence of another person, shakes his head no from the other room. She asks to stay the night; it’s late and she doesn’t want to go back to town at night by herself. Bernard nods with approval. He puts his apron on the hook and directs her to the couch. He goes upstairs. After several hours pass and the girl is asleep, he puts his apron back on. He walks cautiously through the kitchen and grabs his knife off the table without shifting his eyes away from her. Cupping her mouth, he grabs her and brings her into the kitchen and down the basement stairs. He hurriedly grabs a rope and ties her to a supporting pole in the middle of the dark, chill room. He holds her head steady as he mutes her panicky screams with duct tape. He goes back upstairs and goes to sleep. When he returns the next morning he brings her food. He places the plate of undercooked meat and scrambled eggs in front of her and carefully peels off the tape. The smell of the eggs does little to mask the aroma of dry blood, death, and rust in the basement. She has the same empty look in her eyes that he had after hearing his brother killed.


Words do not come easily. My hands do not write well, it is slow and strange. But I have a story to tell, I do not know why I must tell, but the words want to be together and to be seen. I am guarding all the time, I stop the ones who enter without being allowed, I stop them quickly and I stop them forever. There is blood, there is screams, people call me a monster, but they know to fear me because they are not welcome. The last ones I stopped were young, they wore matching jackets with a big letter on them, I heard the word “senior”, but they are not old, so I do not know them. The one that I still remember was much more little, a girl, tiny and very strange to me, she smiled at me and made noises that were nice. The tiny girl came to my lair, holding a smaller bear that was not alive, the tiny girl had her eyes tight against the light and smiled at me. She did not fear, she did not make the loud and high noises, so I believe she was welcomed, I did not stop her from entering my guarding place. “Aren’t you lonely up there?” she asked of me, I did not answer, I am not meant to feel ‘lonely’. She sat under where I rest and spoke to me of things I do not know. She said that she was a princess and I was a king, and I was trapped and would one day be free. I did not know that I am a king, but I like that, maybe it is the reason I do not remember before guarding the tall plants. The tiny girl spoke to me more, asked me if I was sad because I do not have anyone to speak to, I did not know how to answer, none have spoken to me since I began to guard, so I shook my head. The tiny girl jumped and then clapped her hands together, she was happy I moved, all others are not, they run when I do, and I know to chase them. I climbed from my perch, the tiny girl smiling at me as I towered over her, I asked her the only thing I could put into sound. “You not fear monster?” The tiny girl laughed and then clutched one of my legs, the words she spoke are still in my thoughts, “Yeah I’m scared of monsters, but you just a big ol' friend.” I do not know who 'friend' is, but I think it is my name, so I will be Friend. “Princess not think monster?” I asked her, confusion is new and confusing. “Nuh-uh, you’re the king and I’m the princess, you hafta stop monsters!” the tiny girl said, stamping one foot to make herself known. “I am Friend-King, I will stop monster,” I now know my purpose, it is my purpose given to me by the small one, my tiny princess. The princess stayed with me until the light went away and the dark started to appear, I could feel how she feared when she saw the darkness. She told me she would be back the next day and we would do more of the playing, I led her to the edge of my guarding place. The princess did not lie, she came the next day and the next and for many more after, each day telling me of our guarding place. It was called a 'Kingdom' and we were good and protected people, and that the kingdom next to ours had monsters who were gigantic and evil and pretended to be nice. Princess would not let me destroy the monsters, she told me that the monsters were not always evil, that the monsters were good in the light, but when the darkness came, the monsters would hurt people. Tiny Princess looked very sad when she said this, she touched a place on her face that had a different colour to the rest of her. The princess told me that she had tried to fight the monsters of the darkness before, but the monsters were stronger than her. “Tiny Princess is strongest, teaches Friend-King and is good and is welcomed,” I told her, I made the Tiny Princess cry, but I do not know how. Tiny princess clung to me, I had learned in days before that when Tiny Princess did this, I was to do the same, but very, very gently, because princesses get hurt easy. I held my Tiny Princess until she did not cry and was silent and asleep. She woke when the darkness had come up, fear was her feeling once she realised, I held her hand as gently as I could and took her back to the edge of our kingdom. She let go of my hand and started to run, quiet-yelling she would come back at the next light. I waited in the place where it is darker, then I followed, to make sure none of the monsters lay in wait for my Tiny Princess, she was very brave going back to the bad kingdom every time it reached dark. She entered into a building and disappeared, she had reached what I think is her place in the bad kingdom, so I returned to my castle-perch to guard the night against those unwelcome. The next light came and I waited. The light after that and she had not come back, in the many lights I had known my Tiny Princess, she had always come back. I waited until the darkness and moved to her place in the bad kingdom. I could hear voices, their words were loud and strange, they spoke of another, but they spoke quickly and with anger. On the outside of the place, I climbed and peered into the clear walls, all but one were empty. My Tiny Princess lay in one, asleep with strange colours on her face. I ran a finger down the clear wall and she opened one eye, the other looked to be made wrong, strange and the wrong shape, and a bad colour. “Y-you came to see me,” she said with quiet-quiet. She moved the clear wall and I climbed inside the place. She smelled of pain, and of blood and of ending. “Friend-King worry, Tiny Princess gone,” I wish I had better words. “It’s okay, I-I’m j-just-,” my Tiny Princess started to cough, it was a bad sound, I had made that sound happen to the unwelcome, but my Tiny Princess should not make that sound. The ending smelled stronger, my Tiny Princess looked in pain. “Monsters hurt you?” “They didn’t mean it, I know they really don’t I-,” Tiny Princess was in pain again. I helped my Tiny Princess to lay on the soft raised ground. I crouched next to her, watching for her ending, I cannot stop endings, I can only make them happen. “Please, hold my hand.” I held my Tiny Princess, not just her hand, as she made small sounds and her ending happened. She held me with her her tiny hand and in the last moments before she went away, I spoke to her. “Do not be feared my Tiny Princess, Friend is here, Friend will hold you.” She smiled the same smile she had given me when she first knew I lived, and it was what her face held as she ended. I do not know time, but I know I held her for much of it, until the ones in the bottom of the place made noise coming to the top. A man and woman, they were making loud noises, they were angry, the man more than the woman, the entry to my Tiny Princesses place flew open and a man who smelt of sourness, rot and sweat stood in the light. “What the fuck have I told you about-,” the man said, he stopped when he saw me, he held a belt in a hand, it had a big metal front, it smelled of my Tiny Princesses pain. But he smelled of fear, he was not welcome in this place, it was not mine to guard, but it was the place of my Tiny Princess and he had made her have pain. He had made her end. He was unwelcome and I let him know. The woman tried to flee, but she smelled of fear and of the same pain the man’s belt held, she was an unwelcome one. I made them both stop, I made them end. My Tiny Princess asked me if I was lonely when we first met. I was not then, but I am now.


Marsh heard a loud clank from the engine room. “Open the gorram hatch, white man,” Kunta hissed in pain. Letting him into the craft through the emergency hatch, Marsh shuts the hatch and locks it. “How much blood did you loose ? Jesus!” “Bellona. She shot me,” revealed Kunta ,“She’s aligned her interests with the Syndicate.” “That’s bull,” dismissed Marsh. “Got some flesh and a peeking bone that says otherwise . She gon’ pay. I’m not the kind of man you flip sides on” “Why would she? After so many years, betray the revolution like that. Or me.” Marsh began to reason. “Fool! It Don’t make the slightest difference why she done it. She ain’t gon’ like being on the other end of this gunshot,” Kunta bellowed as he stapled his wound shut, “this mission is a gorram trainwreck is what it is. Where is Henley?” “He left to get me a crunk propeller for the rear shaft. Should have returned by now.” “Where do you think he gon’ find a propeller on a station full of Laserjets?” “The syndicate Arrowhead ships have backup propellers,” Marsh lights up as he hears Henley’s rover pull up besides the ship, “you alright Henley ? Did you find it ?” “There were Syndicate soldiers everywhere man. I couldn’t get anywhere near an Arrowhead class ship. Our cover is blown ,they’ve looking for us . Did you retrieve the package Kunta ?” “Bellona has finked on us. She tipped them off, Henley. Wretched woman. Shot me right through the deltoid . Lost her gorram mind.” “Bellona flipped? I wouldn’t believe you but after the ruckus I just saw out there, I think I might’ve even seen her with the Syndicate soldiers,” Henley declared. “So, Marsh, this ship gon’ fly or what ? Seeing as you still don’t got no propellers.” “If there is any power left in the barette engine, she might take off, but that’s pretty much it,” Marsh divulged, “she wont get us out of this station, let alone the atmosphere.” “Have you ever been captured by the Syndicate , young ’un ? Ever get questioned by them ? Ever had your toenails turned inside out ? ” Henley solicited, “I hope you get this thing started before we are surrounded by Arrowheads and you lose a couple fingers getting questioned about something you know nothing about .” “Give it a whirl kid,” Kunta interjected. Marsh boosted up the engine muttering to himself, “No.. systems.. ready.. to go.” The Carrier class ship lit up with a zhyyiuu sound, rose 20 metres in the air and hovered a bit before crashing back down with a thunderous cacophony, followed by loud sirens throughout the space station. Promptly, an Arrowhead class Syndicate Laserjet lowered besides the crashed ship. “Die before you are captured!” howled Henley, aiming his blaster. The airlock released the hatch revealing a woman. “Bellona ?” “Need a ride ?”she smirked “I got what we came for.


The crowd was bustling in the auditorium, all ecstatic to see the Great Magician Larson. Quickly, the fans raced through the building and planted in their velvet covered seats. Backstage a tall figured man in a top hat prepared himself, for he was the Great Magician Larson. His eyes were wide and his hair was slicked back so much, it almost reached his back. When Larson heard the announcer call his name, he fixed his posture and made his way to the stage. When he stepped on, the crowd’s once loud voices turned into a just soft breathing of the people. The only loud thing in the auditorium was the magician’s footsteps and a crying baby in the back of the room. Larson cleared his throat and strided smoothly to the center of the stage. “Ladies and gentleman,” He boomed, his voice echoing through the building, “Watch closely as I make a fine woman appear before your very eyes!” The crowd were on the edge of they’re seats. They all knew that the Great Magician Larson was truly magical, and did live up to his name. Moving his hands, the magician yelped- no chanted, “Abracadabra, abracado! For I will make this woman appear before you!” With a puff of smoke, you could see a woman in a long purple dress. The crowd gasped and cheered so loud that it shook the room. Some started sobbing in awe at Larson. Fans clamored to the front, their eyes glistening. The Great Magician Larson smiled with pride. He was good. He knew he was good. He bragged about it all the time. He was not humble, never had been. Even when he was a child he bragged about his perfect skills. He was a very smart boy and went through school effortlessly. One time when he was ten, after the tests had been passed out he laughed to the boy sitting next to him, “You got a "D "? Unlike you, I can actually read.” So, his attitude was, and still is nasty. When he started practicing magic tricks, his ego grew and he became less and less humble. On stage you could never see it. The only people who knew were his parents. In fact, they’ve been whispering about his imposing personality ever since he started practicing magic. “Should we tell him to stop?” His mother once said to her husband. “No,” The father replied in a serious tone, “We can’t tell him to stop following his dream when that’s all we tell him to do.” “But, all he ever does is brag,” She paused, then said, “That’s not right.” “I know, but this is something Larson really enjoys. He might be able to be successful in magic.” “That’s true. So, stay away?” Larson’s father nodded and replied, “Stay away.”So, Larson ended up pursuing magic, but he did not become humble like his parents wished. Once the applause silenced in the auditorium, the magician went to his next trick. “Now, you may think there is only one of me,” The Great Magician Larson said, in a mysterious voice, “But, there are many of me!” As he said that sentence, his voice echoed and hundreds of Larson’s appeared throughout the auditorium. The audience mouths gaped open. The baby in back stopped crying. Even the flies stopped moving. Then the audience went crazy. They laughed, cried, and screeched with joy all at the same time. One girl jumped up and down, her pigtails doing the same as her body. People reached out to touch the Larsons, and sure enough they were as solid as the Great Magician himself. Everyone in the auditorium ran to the front, shoving others down and pushing people out of the crowd. Every single person had to shake the Great Magician’s hand. A smile ran across Larson’s face. If a hand even brushed his shoe, the person would break down into tears. “He’s truly magical!” One man said, smiling widely. “I know!” The woman next to him said, tears streaming down her face. The magician smiled broadly. The Great Magician Larson’s tricks make adults act like little children. He had won them over. But then a clatter came from the back of the room. The crowd didn’t notice, they were all captured in a daze. But the Great Magician Larson did . He looked up and saw a fallen mirror on the ground. He bit his lip and shifted his eyes around nervously. Then he shook his head and continued his broad smile. “Now, for my next trick: I will make this woman disappear!” The same woman in the purple dress strided on the stage with a bright, large smile. With a worried smile on the magician’s face he said to the woman, “Come! And stand here please.” Larson pointed to two pieces of blue tape in an “X” shape. The woman nodded and stepped onto the piece of tape. As she did so, a trap door beneath the blue tape cracked open and light bled through. The woman shifted her footing, but the same trap door opened all the way and light shed across the ground. When this happened the woman’s foot got caught in the door and she fell to the floor. This time, the crowd did see. They gasped, not in awe, but in confusion. Trying to grab the audience’s attention back, the Great Magician Larson cleared his throat and said, “Abracadabra, abracado! For I will make this woman disappear before you!” Nothing happened. There was no puff of smoke. The woman was still on the floor. The magician inhaled and said, his voice cracking, “Abracadabra, abracado! For I will make this woman disappear before you!” Still, nothing happened. Larson stood frozen on the stage, deathly afraid. The audience looked perplexed. Then the mirrors started to fall to the floor again, spreading shattered glass across the ground. The crowd’s expression changed. It went from perplexed to angry. “This can’t be happening! I’m the greatest magician in the whole world!” Lanson muttered, hoping his fans didn’t hear him. But they did. His microphone picked up all of it, word for word. The crowd's teeth gritted at the famous magician’s behavior. All they usually saw from Larson was his magical essence. But now they saw who he truly was not an imposing man, but an imposter. They all shook their heads and some began to leave. They were all shocked and wished they could see the old Great Magician Larson, but they could not. The crowd (who were once his fans) jeered, with their eyes squinting with hate. “He’s a fraud!” One woman screamed, pointing at him. “He’s been playing us this entire time!” A man yelled over the jeering of the crowd. Everyone filed out of the auditorium. The crowd that came in so happy to see the Great Magician Larson, were now happy to never see him again. “Turns out he doesn’t live up to his name,” A little girl muttered to her brother. “Yeah!” The brother replied. After that night, the showcase was always empty whenever Larson was performing. But he still stayed cocky and bragged about his skills on the streets. “You know how you see those magicians who do the same simple trick over and over again. Well, I’m much better than that. I can actually do tricks that are magical! I know I am the most wonderful magician who ever lived,” He once said to a woman walking along the street. She peered at him oddly and said while rolling her eyes, “I know who you are. You failed as a magician and yet you still are the most conceited man alive.” “I know,” He said, glaring at her. He walked away briskly telling everyone he saw about his perfect skills in magic.


There lived a little boy who had a hard life. He lived with his mother, but his father had passed away some years prior. The boy was only 8 years old, but he would spend almost all of his time outside, out of the house. His mother was always so reclusive, he found it hard to be around her, and for the most part, he fended for himself. Everyday he'd go out and play around the town. Eventually, he wandered into the park, and up to a hill where a mighty tree lay. It was an apple tree Everyday after school he would come to the park, run up the hill, and hang out at the tree. He would visit this tree so much that eventually, one of the keepers of the park tied up a tire swing to the biggest branch of the tree, and the boy would spend hours swinging around as he looked down at the rest of the park below him. He visited the tree and the park everyday, until one day, he hadn't visited for a good four years. He and his mother had moved house, because she couldn't stand to be reminded of the house her and her once-husband had grown to build their life in. They lived off in another town for some years before eventually, she found it far too hard to be away from the house he had built her and her son's life in, and they moved back. Finally back in his old town, the boy returned to the park, and returned to the hill. To his surprise, the tire swing was still proudly hung from the tree. But also to his surprise, there was an old man there, sitting at the base of the tree, cutting an apple into slices with a dull pocketknife. The boy was confused, granted he'd never seen anyone else up here. He approached the man. The man offered the boy a fond expression, handing him a piece of apple and beckoning him to sit down. The boy complied, examining the man's appearance. He looked almost homeless, tired and dishevelled, but he looked clean, and as if he were in good spirits. The man glanced at the boy, then up at the sky. The sun was beginning to descend beyond the hills. He then began to speak. "One day, you will lose everything you came to know. But you mustn't dwell, you must take your memories and cherish them as you start anew." He said. The boy seemed confused, being only 12, but he nodded contently, accepting the man's word. Once the sun was almost fully set, the boy ran off home. The cycle continued for days. The next day, he ascended back up the hill, the man sitting in his usual spot, with another apple. Again, he offered the boy a slice and a seat. Once more, just like before, the man spoke to the boy. "One day, you will lose everyone close to you. Not to weep, though, for you must cherish their memory and rebuild yourself from the ground up." Again, this left the boy confused, but he nodded understandingly. Like clockwork, the sun set and the boy returned home. Soon, they moved again, as the boy's mother's job was not paying well enough. They moved two states over, and she got a new job. They lived there for the rest of her life, before she too, died at a young age, due to complications following heartbreak. The boy, now 20, moved back to his old home, in his own town. He visited the park again. He climbed the hill, and to his surprise, there was the swing, still hung high in the tree, as well as the old man, underneath with an apple and his ever duller knife. Both the rope holding the swing, and the old man, looked old and weathered, so frail the boy worried that a single touch would make them both crumble. The man, however, looked to be in just as good spirits as ever. The man offered the boy an apple slice, his hand trembling slightly as he did, weak with old age. The boy took the slice and sat with the man, who stared wistfully off into the distance. "It's good to see you again, boy." Was all he said. The boy nodded. "You as well. Have you any advice for me?" He asked. The man shook his head. "None but what I've told you before. When all is lost, do not weep, begin anew." The boy nodded. The sun had set fully, and it had grown dark, so the boy went home. He visited the park the next day, hoping to see the man, but no one was there, to his surprise. So, he returned home, and for a while, he didn't return to the park. A year later, the boy returned to the park, and returned to the hill, only to see the tree had been reduced to naught more than a weak stump. The tire swing had long since fallen, grown into the ground, the rope that once held it rotted away. On the stump sat a woman, who easily could have been in her 80's. The boy approached her, and she looked at him expectantly. "My husband told me you'd be here." She said. Was this the old man's wife?, he thought. "He hadn't much time left in him. He wanted me to give you this." She said, handing the boy an apple. The boy looked confused. "He told me to tell you not to mourn his loss. Plant the seed, grow anew." She said, before getting up, her weakened body trembling slightly as she did so, and she walked away. The boy listened to her, honouring the wishes of the old man he had befriended, and planting the seed. For years, the boy would return to the park everyday as the old stump rotted away, and the new sapling eventually grew to replace the tree that used to be there. The boy was now, too, an old man, in his 60's. He sat beneath the tree, staring out at the dusky sky. He had an apple in his hand as he watched a young boy walk up to him, an even younger boy trailing close behind. They walked up to him, looking at him with curiosity. The man, once a boy, offered the apple to the youngest of the boys and offered them both to sit. They did. The man sighed wistfully, and looked at the boys. "One day, all will seem lost. You'll lose the people and things that mean most to you. One day. But you cannot weep, you must cherish the memories and use that to start new, build yourself back from the ground up." The boys looked confused, but they nodded. The sun started to set, and they went home. As they left, the man looked up at the tree he'd grown, curiosity in his eyes. "Was that what you had been trying to prepare me for all along? To repeat the cycle anew?" He asked, but of course, he got no answer. But the breeze blew the leaves in such a way they made a rustling that could almost be taken as a response, and the man accepted it as such. He smiled to himself and leaned back against the tree.


Shock rumbles through her mind, she pictures the explosion of an atomic bomb the mushroom cloud rising high in the air, swelling, SWElling, SWELLING! Until it reaches maximum capacity and the shards of her perfectly planned life fall down round her. She holds the plastic tester in her hand and stares at the two thin red lines. Those two little thin red lines mock her; say goodbye to the career you’ve worked so hard to achieve, goodbye to the boyfriend, which said he wanted no strings attached. Strings! Those two red lines were ropes not strings. NO WAY! She was the conductor of her life and those two red lines were going to be erased from her symphony. *********************************** An hour later she learned that there was no where in the city of Leeds to get an abortion, actually the state of Alabama had banned abortion. She was going to have to drive all the way to Tennessee to get one done. “What kind of State bans a necessary medical procedure?” Allie complained to herself. She booked an appointment at an abortion clinic in Lawrenceburg, Tennessee, it was just over the state line. The appointment was for the next morning, it was going to be an almost three hour drive. So she spent the rest of the day getting ready for the trip. When she crawled into bed, she finally felt calm; she was taking charge of her life, getting rid of the problem. She refused to think of it as a baby, it was just a temporary problem. The next morning she got up early so she could be on the road by 5am. When she walked outside snow lightly peppered her head. “Great, I hate driving in the snow! Hopefully it will clear up soon.” She hit highway 65 by 6:30, she was running behind because the snow started coming down harder. Traffic was heavier than expected and they were driving slower than the posted 65 mph. Three hours later she was only passing Athens. She was hours behind schedule and she still had over eighty miles to go. She had given herself an hour leeway, but that had quickly dwindled away. She could turn around but Lawrenceburg was closer than home. The snow was heavy but nothing she hadn’t seen before. This drive was playing havoc with her mind; every song that came on the radio had something to do with babies; Always be my Baby Hit me Baby one more time Baby girl Be my baby tonight Baby baby, “Ugh!” She angrily turned off the radio, “It wasn’t a baby yet and it wasn’t going to be either.” By the time she hit Tennessee it was almost a white out; the wind was whipping her car side to side. She took the first exit she saw and looked for somewhere to shelter a while, till the storm calmed down. “Hopefully they can work me in or I’ll just have to reschedule the blasted appointment.” she grumbled. Allie saw a Wal-Mart and pulled into the parking lot, there were very few cars in the lot. She drove to the front, so she wouldn’t have far to walk through the elements. She tried to slow near the entrance, but her wheels couldn’t find any traction and she slammed into the concrete posts in front of the store. She was thrown into the side window, cracking it and bloodying her nose. The whole side of her face ached. She had to crawl out the passenger side of the car, since her door was crumpled and wouldn’t open. She stumbled to the open doors of the store. The lights were off, only the emergency flood lights were on. Snow had piled up on the sensor pad of the sliding doors, causing them to keep opening, until the snow had accumulated so much the doors could no longer close. She trudged through it and walked into the store. “Hello?” her voice echoed through the cavernous store. She heard things falling to her left and something running toward her. She ran back out into the storm. She ran to the next closet car, since her door was smashed. Luckily it was unlocked; she leapt in and stared back at the store. After a few seconds, a pack of coyotes ran through the door and back into the surrounding woodlands, She leaned back in the seat sighing in relief. She tried her phone to call for help and she had no bars. “Great, no service! I can’t stay in this car; I’m just going to have to go back into that store. She started to open the door, but she heard slight mewling sound. Silently she listened and searched for the sound. Someone abandoned a kitten in the car, she thought angrily. The sound was coming from a pile of blankets on the floorboard. She gently moved part of the top blanket, horrified she dropped the edge of the blanket and jumped back against the door. She couldn’t have just seen what she thought she saw! However the cries that are now issuing from the bundle proved that she had. She couldn't just leave it there! She wished she was any where but in this car. The loud cries refuse to be ignored, so she leaned over and picked the swaddled bundle off the floorboard. She could feel the chill through the blankets so she opens her coat and bundled it to her chest. She peaked under the blanket again to see the very young baby within. “What am I going to do with you?” She grumbled. Now it’s even more imperative for her to return to the store. That’s the only place where they can safely shelter. The wind has picked up even more in the few minutes she’d been in the car. She wrapped the other blankets around her chest and shoulders, trying to create a safe place for the baby. Once she’s covered she gets out of the car and trudges through the biting wind and snow to the doors. She entered the store and moved toward the back. It’s very cold but at least the wind doesn’t reach this far back. Always one to take command she makes a mental list of what she needs. She’ll need something safe and warm for the baby And then she’ll need to feed the baby judging by its cries. She grabs a cart and walks to the baby section, there she throws a portable baby bed into it, she adds a package of bottles, a pacifier, diapers and wipes. She looks for formula and sees that its’ kept behind locked doors. She walks to the outdoor section and grabs a hatchet and walks back to the baby section. She lays the baby in the bed and pries open the doors. Which formula to get? She grabs the can that says sensitive; thinking can’t go wrong with that. She sees a winter sleeper hanging from a rack and puts that in the cart. Then she heads to the back of the store. She decides to go into the restroom, because she can shut the door for further insulation from the cold. It’s almost warm in the restroom; she turns on the hot faucet and lets it run, while she changes the baby into the warm outfit. Then she rinses the bottles and pacifier under the hot water. Reading the label she measures out the formula and sits down on the floor to feed the baby. An uncomfortable thought enters her mind, it feels right holding the baby girl. She balks at it. The baby eats fast, poor thing was starving, she thought. What kind of person would abandon a baby in this storm! Then a second thought crossed in mind, how are you any better? You planned to kill yours. “I’m not killing a baby; I’m getting rid of a clump of cells!” She angrily growls. She remembered that she should burp the baby so she raises her to her shoulder and gently pats her back. The smell of the baby teases her nose, it’s a pleasant smell. Unconsciously she rubs her cheek against the baby’s silky hair, and sighs. When the baby falls asleep she puts her back in her bed. She listens to the howling wind, the storm is getting worse. The emergency lights flicker but stay on, she realizes she’s going to be here for a while and needs to get supplies. She wraps blankets around the baby and goes out into the store. Anxiety tugs at her for leaving the baby, but she knows the restroom is the warmest and safest place for her. She takes the cart with her, wind is howling through the store, she goes back to the baby section and grabs more formula and diapers, she has no idea how long she’ll be here. Then she grabs other items that might be useful. As she’s leaving she’s spies a book sitting on the shelf ‘The Miracle of Conception.’ she throws it in the cart. She reasons that maybe it will have information she could use to take care of the baby. She goes through the store grabbing supplies; a lantern, flashlight, lots of batteries, a battery backed up clock radio, food for herself more blankets, pillows, warm clothes, socks and a small tent. As she’s heading back, she hears a racket; she fears its more coyotes. Panic sends tremors down her spine; could coyotes push the restroom door open? She races back to the restrooms skidding to a halt when a couple of deer bound into her path. She back tracks and runs down another aisle when the buck lowers his antlers. Once in the restroom she pushes the cart inside and deadbolts the door. She rushes to the baby and sees she’s still sleeping. She feels something on her face; she wipes at it and looks at her hand. It's wet, she realizes she’s been weeping. Fatigue hits her like a hammer and she slides down the wall to the floor. “What the Hell is wrong with me!” Allie cries burying her face in her hands. She felt like she was in an apocalyptic movie, only the baby and her. She is the only thing between life and death for the child. It’s a daunting realization, but she thanks God for the circumstances that had brought her to this baby. Shaking off her melancholy, she starts putting her temporary shelter in order. She sets up the small tent and lines it with blankets and pillows. She knows that with nightfall it will get colder and hopefully the tent will be warmer than the vast restroom. She nibbles on the cheese and crackers she grabbed. As she is finishing that the baby wakes, she changes her and slips her into some thermal pajamas. Then she feeds her another bottle. She doesn’t drink much. Not knowing what a baby drinks she worries if 3 ounces is enough, but the baby seems content settling into sleep again. She marvels at the babies tiny fingers, so fragile and so precious. Her mind wanders to the child growing with in her. She places the baby and her bed into the tent, stroking her soft cheek as she withdraws, when she stands up her hands cup her belly for an instant. She pushes those thoughts away and starts putting batteries in the lantern and flashlights, then into the clock radio, she doesn’t set the clock because she has no idea of the time. But her body is telling her she needs sleep. She changes into the thermal pajamas from the basket and sees the book. She grabs it and puts the items into the tent, once inside she zips up the opening and gets comfortable. She turns on the radio and tunes into a news station; “The last time the Tennessee Valley saw a blizzard this extreme was in 1996, it dumped 5 inches of snow in less than 6 hours. Officials are advising everyone to stay off the roads, and bundle up; it’s going to be a long night.” “Wonderful!” she sighs listening to the howling wind, she lays down, but can’t sleep. So she grabs the book and starts to read. ‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; and before you were born I consecrated you.’ -The First trimester- (0 to 13 weeks) This is the most critical time in your baby’s development; *your body is going through enormous changes, *by 6 1⁄2 weeks you can hear the baby’s heartbeart with an ultrasound. *the baby will develop all of it’s organs by the 3 rd month .................................................................. .............................................................. ‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.’ “My baby already has a heartbeart?” She thought in amazement. She figured she was probably 10 to 12 weeks along. She looks at the photo at 12 weeks. She sees its little hands and fingers, she can tell this baby is a little boy. Even though it is only 3 inches long, she can tell it's a baby, not a clump of cells. The phrase ‘in my mother’s womb” struck her hard, she never thought of this pregnancy in terms of her being a mother...especially already. She saw that the book was written by a Christian author, she believed in God, she always had she just hadn’t thought about him much since she’d grown up. The scripture about knowing you in the womb surprised her. She had never thought of abortion as anything other than a medical procedure, no different than a pap smear. But thinking in God’s view, certainly made her think in a different perspective. She struggled with that internally, she had her career, and Phil. But what was more important? Who do I want to spend my life with? Did she plan a life with Phil? No, it would end, she never saw him as a forever relationship. But this child was a forever relationship, a child is a bond of forever. And her career was so she’d be financially stable, it wasn’t her life. It was so she could enjoy her life. The baby would be her life, it would be her love and her future. When had she stopped thinking, ...my body, my career...my ,my, my...? When had she stopped thinking, ...it’s just a clump of cells, it’s just an inconvenience to be terminated? When had she started thinking, ...this is my baby, my responsibility? I am its protector, I’m its MOTHER! She rolled over and looked at the innocent baby sleeping in its bed. Shame filled her, when she realized she had been about to kill her own child. A scripture popped into her mind from her youth; ‘The Lord is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgressions...’ She picked up the book that she had dropped; it was opened to the last page, ‘God calls children a true gift and a blessing... Children are a heritage from the lord, The fruit of the womb... Fearfully and wonderfully made... She closed her eyes and thought of all the coincidences that had to occur for her to get to this point; Finding out she was pregnant, Having to travel to Tennessee for an abortion, The Blizzard making her get off the interstate when she had, The crash, the Wal-Mart doors being open, the coyotes and running to that certain car. It was pretty far fetched to believe it was coincidence, but when she looked to God, she saw his finger in it all... He had saved two babies this day. With a smile on her face she drifted off to sleep. She was awakened hours later to pounding on the restroom door. She opened the door to a police officer who was checking the store, he’d come to the Wal-Mart checking for a baby reported to have been left in a car when the Mother had tried to go find help. When he saw the open door of the store he decided to check inside while the other officers checked the lot. “The baby is safe with me.” Allie told the officer and then went to get her out of the tent. “Thank God!” the officer said visibly relieved. “I was so frightened that this was a call to find a dead body.” “The baby decided at that moment that she wanted her breakfast, “When you’re ready we’ll take you to the emergency shelter and reunite this precious baby with her parents.” The officer told her. So Allie changed and fed the baby for the last time, sorrow filling her but at the same time joy. The baby wasn’t abandoned and neither would her baby be abandoned or worse. She gathered the baby things including the bed, the parents might need them. She didn’t think Wal-Mart would mind considering the circumstances. Collecting her things she then walked outside with the baby snuggled in her arms. The weather was crisp and beautiful; it was a wonderful day to start over again, Thanks to God.


She could hear them downstairs. Slow, dragging footsteps over mouldering carpet. Ragged, gasping breath, even more tortured than her own. And a low keening moan, somewhere between sobbing and growling, mutilated by a hundred different throats. Was it a hundred? She couldn't tell anymore, the one that had stalked her had brought more. A lot more. There was nothing. Not a single thing she could use. The windows were too high up in this stupid wreck of a house. Narrow slits of dying sunlight, too far away for her to reach. The walls were brick not soft plaster like she'd hoped, and even if she could get through, it was a long drop with a seething sea of shamblers on the other side. She couldn't fight her way out. Even more had come, and whoever lived here before obviously didn't feel the need to stock up on heavy weapons. All she'd found was a pencil. And it was blunt. They were coming. Usually shamblers were mindless; staggering around and biting on reflex, but when they got together they got smarter. Scientists, while there *were* scientists, had suggested a kind of collective mind. The virus working as a whole to problem solve. She didn't care, she just knew that they were smart enough to start building a ramp to get past the stairs she'd burnt. The moans sounded more purposeful now. Less lost and more hungry. She could hear the brittle scraping of lighter furniture being dragged into a pile for the fresher ones to climb. Shamblers might get smarter in groups, but they didn't stop decaying. Those without tendons or muscles would have to wait for whatever scraps of her were thrown back down. There was *nothing.* She threw herself furiously on the rotted sofa she'd used to barricade the door. No worries about being heard now. They knew where she was, the shuffling below sounded almost eager. Who kept a room this clean anyway? It looked like it was slowly being converted into a bedroom when she rushed in, but now it was obvious how little progress had been made. Any furniture and boxes of flat-pack crap waiting to be built had been shoved against the door, which itself wasn't going to be much of an obstacle judging by how rotten it was. As for the rest, there *was* no rest. No boxes of junk, no hardware kits, no *anything.* She'd thought about taking the easy way out, once she realised how screwed she was, but she couldn't even find anything for that, unless you counted death by splinters or hitting her head against a wall as an easy way out. She was going to die. She was going to be *torn apart* by rotted hands and broken teeth, and there was nothing she could do about it, except hyperventilate on spore-filled air. There was nothing she could do. She'd already done everything. Thought of every way to escape, used every scrap of furniture to bar the door, thought of everything she could have done to avoid this. She was done. She sat watching her breath form plumes and storms in the fragile, dusty air. The light was dimmer now, the last dying glow of the day. It painted lines of dusty gold across her barricade. She listened to the creaks and occasional brittle crashes as the shamblers grew closer to successfully scaling their mountain of junk. Closer to her. She would have sung if she could, like a musician on a sinking ship, but she never learnt to sing well. What was the point? it wouldn't have kept her alive, not that anything else had. Maybe she would have written on the walls, a last farewell, if anyone had left her a proper pencil. But they hadn't. So she listened and she waited. *Th-thum, th-thum*. Her heartbeat thuds in her ears, her chest, her fingertips. *Th-thum, th-thum*. Every frantic beat one she'll never get back. Slipping into oblivion, pulling her towards her end. *Th-thum, th-thum*. It can't happen, it just *can't.* She can't imagine what comes next, nothing comes next. She recoils from the thought, squirming in time. *Th-thum, th-thum*. They're here. Broken fingernails scraping at the door. The soggy wood splinters, clawing deep gashes into a pale arm that can't bleed. It squirms through the gap, leading with snapping jaws. The rest of it's body follows like a diseased afterthought. She stands frozen. She thought she'd be brave or defiant, but there's no room for it. She just watches, frozen, as it lurches towards her. Withered jaws latch onto her arm. Mutilated hands quickly following to hold her still. The head flicks back, pulling a thick ribbon of flesh with it. She stares, looking at torn muscle, a flash of bone, before the blood quickly pools, then sprays. Her startled face laced with constallations of blood. Then the pain sets in. White fire gnawing into her, burrowing through every vein, burning away her vision from the edges. More join it. They launch at her, toppling her over, tearing more strips from her spasming body. The pain feels more distant, like it's happening to someone else. Her vision tunneling onto the last patches of dappled patches of sunlight. She watches the dust spiral fitfully. She hears her own bones splintering before- Below, the restless hoard of old shamblers look up. Drops of blood seep through the boards and patter on hungry faces. They stand, catching the red rain on withered tongues.


The night was cold. Silvery moonlight washed over ground that was covered in the first snowfall of the season. It felt like ages since Hadeon had last enjoyed the snow, even though it had only been a year. Time felt like it had stretched longer in the depths of the church’s crypt. He glanced around at the hills he roamed as a child, hanging off his mother’s skirts and helping her gather the herbs and wildflowers that bloomed. Nothing grew now, for winter’s bite had killed many of the plants, and the snow hid the ground from view. It looked so different, so bare under the full moon. A night his mother would have loved. Yet it wasn’t the time of year he was prepared for. Any sane person would be in their homes, keeping warm by the fires in their hearths. Hadeon, however, didn’t have that luxury. His clothes were threadbare and torn, his feet bare. There had been no time to hunt down proper clothes or shoes. No time to figure out how the bodies had gotten on the floor or how the crypt door had been blown off its hinges. Hadeon ran over the hills, numb feet kicking up the snow. His goal was to reach the river. If he could just reach the river, he could find his way to the ruins of his home. If there was even the slightest chance that the flames hadn’t devoured the whole house, he could find something to help him, he was sure of it. There had to be. Run, run, little rabbit. A chill racked his spine as the voice filled his mind. Panic rose in his throat as his feet pushed himself forward. He had to get home. Had to find a way to rid himself of the voices. Topping a rise, he saw the White Rapids. Even in the freezing temperatures, the water churned in rushing torrents, making the river virtually uncrossable. In the moonlight, he could see the spray of water as it crashed against rocks and riverbanks alike. There was one spot that gave brave, and desperate, travelers a passage over the watery beast. His eyes traveled upriver until he saw it. The boy let out a soft cry of relief to see the rope bridge still standing. He had been afraid the town guards had burned it. You’ll never make it. There was movement to his right, but when Hadeon turned his head to look, there was nothing. He was alone, but he wouldn’t be for long. Holding his breath, his ears strained to hear if the warning bells were ringing yet. All that he could hear was his own heartbeat and the distant rapids. Good, he still had time. He could still make it. Another shadow crossed his vision, this time from the hill he had just come from. Wolves were common in the area, so the boy turned to be sure he wasn’t about to have a new problem on his hands. He was being stalked all right, but not from wolves. Standing on the hilltop was a silhouette. Man, he knew not. All he knew was someone was there, too close behind for comfort. Fear choked him, making him stumble as he quickly turned back around and dashed towards the bridge. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t... You’ll never go back. You’ll be safe. His best hope was his home. He could rid himself of the voices in his head as soon as he reached the safety of those four walls. He could... Hadeon felt a force barreling into him. A yelp broke the silent night air as he was sent tumbling the rest of the way down the hill. The fall sent a flare of pain throughout his body, awakening old injuries that his adrenaline rush had helped to numb. Get up, he told himself. Get up, get up, get up! He scrambled to find his footing once more, but as soon as he had his feet under him, the force knocked him back down again. No! A sob tore from his throat. He was so close! If he just had a few more minutes, he would have been free, safe in the wilds of the forest once more. “You have the determination, little rabbit, I’ll give you that.” This time the voice was not in his head. This time, Hadeon heard the shifting voice behind him. Pushing himself upright, he scrambled away, trying to keep some space between him and the person hunting him. If “person” was the correct term to call it. The figure was human in form, for the most part. The creature was night itself with shadowy tendrils waving about it, making its form hard to distinguish. Pitch black, it was as if the creature swallowed the moonbeams and made the surroundings grow darker. As it stalked closer, Hadeon could see the details of arms and legs, the outline of shoulders. Yet that was where all human resemblances stopped. For when he searched for a face, all he was met with was two spots that flickered with candlelight. It was then he realized that this was not the first time he had seen those eyes. He remembered seeing those glowing orbs watching him from a darkened corner of the crypt when he awoke to find his captors dead. They had been what encouraged him to take advantage of the escape that presented itself. “What... What do you want from m-me?” Hadeon stuttered, both from fear and the cold sinking into his skin. A deep chuckle rumbled from the shadow. “I believe the question is: What do you want from me ?” “I don’t know what you’re t-talking about.” “Oh, I believe you do.” The figure continued forward, crouching down in front of the boy. Its eyes roamed over all of him. “A witch’s son, pushed to the point of breaking, finally calling forth his birthright. You’ve just never had the chance to use me until now.” “But I haven’t-” Hadeon started. “Were you not the one begging for the dark to take you? For someone to end the torture the church bestowed upon you?” Hadeon felt his heart sink. He had, but they were just thoughts. He hadn’t said any sort of spell, hadn’t made any kind of deals. His mother had warned him that such spells were dangerous. Demons were tricky creatures, and it was best to leave them to their own devices. “The help you were given was with you the whole time. You just had to open your ears to hear it.” We are one in the same, after all. Hadeon flinched back as the voice spoke inside his head, but it was no longer the distorted rasp he was used to. Instead, it sounded like a mimic of his own, and as he watched the figure, he could have sworn the shadows warped into an imitation of his own face. He shivered at the thought. “I-I don’t want your help,” he stated, putting as much conviction into his words as he could. “You don’t get that choice, rabbit,” the figure replied. A flash of a grin broke the shadows. “I’m here to stay. I have always been here. You just finally awakened to my presence.” “I don’t need any h-help from you, demon,” Hadeon said. “Oh? Then perhaps I can let the search parties find you in the morning, holed up in the charred remains of your mother’s home. They can take you back to that cell, or perhaps finally hang you on Sunday for the murder of the clergy men in charge of you.” The figure stood and turned as if to leave. “You left a noticeable trail, and you’re far too weak to put up much of a fight. I’m sure you’ll make it a good five minutes before you’re bound and dragged back to the hell you came from. It makes no difference to me.” “No!” Hadeon couldn’t stop the protest from leaving his lips. He couldn’t go back to the dark cell, to the torment and starvation, to the scorn of being a “devil’s spawn.” There were monsters among those who claimed themselves holy, and he had experienced it all within his long year in their hands. Anything that the demon promised had to be better than the fate waiting for him back in town. The shadow turned its glowing gaze back towards him, and Hadeon could have sworn he saw a smug expression in their depths. “I thought that would be the case,” it said. Once again, it came to loom over the boy, making him swallow nervously. “Do not worry. There is no more need to cower from the shadows. They belong to you.”


It all started about a week ago. It was a cold and stormy night, the streetlights held a distinct foggy glaze. Throughout the eerily quiet street, the noise of windows rattling in the forceful wind could be heard... I’m kidding, obviously. Although last Tuesday night when this all started, there was a storm, just not a storm of the weather variety. I’d been following the news all day, everyone had. 6 boys now, all aged between 14-21, had been found dead in their homes. All of them were wearing the undeniably recognisable X.R.Y patented VR goggles and sleeves, as if they’d died right in the middle of a game; and they had. But that’s not the most curious part. What was even more intriguing and un-explainable was that at the moment they died, so had their avatars. So there I was sat in front of the television, crossed legged and making my way through a pot noodle, eyes glued to the screen as I listened to a news anchor report on the story for the eighth time today. See this was the interesting bit, since the story broke the news vultures had eaten up the weird and un-explainable circumstances of the whole thing, and every story since had been linking things together and talking crazy conspiracies. The police of course, had come out to say X.R.Y couldn’t have had anything to do with it and stated that it was impossible the two things were related. This only made things worse, as most people, including me, disagreed. There were now picketers outside their Office, screaming viciously for justice for “their” boys. There were forums that were full of theories, people talking about electrical currents, or the dark web and some even talking about magic, real magic, not just the kind you find in X.R.Y and that was just the real world repercussions. More importantly, were the things happening virtually. People around the world were darning their virtual reality gear and airing their grief online. There were virtual flowers bought from virtual stores laid down at the place where the avatars powered out for the last time. There were regular flowers, like lilies and chrysanthemums but they were nothing compared to the mythical bouquets most people would leave. There were snapdragons that actually snapped and breathed fire. Giant Venus-Flytraps that passed the time catching AI bots that inhabited the games’ land and FlameFreesia’s, with charcoal stems blooming into petals resembling flames, just to name a few. People were changing their names to “justice4thewarriors” and “NeverForget1604”, some avatars darned t-shirts bearing the victims’ faces, bought from some capitalist who runs a “Skins” shop. Some people had gone as far as changing their avatars entire likeness to one of the victims. I on the other hand didn’t take flowers, or like some people even a live “teddy” bear, to their resting place, as I didn’t own that world. There was also no way I was going to spend my Xdollars on some tacky t-shirt just for the proceeds to go to the seller’s pocket instead of the families. Besides, I’d put a lot of hard work into creating my Avatars appearance. As inside the virtual world of X.R.Y, just like the real world before it became secondary in importance, appearances were everything. My avatar looked somewhat like me, and yet entirely different, where I was tall and brunette covered in freckles, my avatar was short and her mousy blonde hair, cut into a long bob was held in place by a baby pink headband. She wore clothes from a different decade with a pleated, tartan brown skirt and matching jacket and a pink roll neck underneath. She had knee high socks in the same colour with plimsolls on her feet, but I on the other hand spent my days in tracksuit bottoms and plain t-shirts, a standard uniform for most people outside the You-niverse . That’s what we called the virtual world, named after the company that made it; X.R.Y- short for Xtreme Reality You-niverse but everyone pronounced it like “x-ray”. But there was one thing the same about my avatar and I, our faces, although hers’ was almost cartoony, it held an uncanny resemblance to mine. Big brown eyes, a long sharp nose to match my sharp chin and cheekbones and a full pink mouth, made even more obvious from the amount of time I spent biting my lip. Which thanks to my X.R.Y issued You-Camera that hung from my game enhancing visor tracking and copying my every facial move, my avatar did too. You may think that my avatar’s look was pretty basic, especially considering I could be anything in a world full of 14 year old girls walking around as ten foot dragons with purple iridescent scales, and your old lady neighbour tearing apart worlds as a sultry witch that has thousands of boys drooling after her every move. Yet I was perfectly content with how I looked because it was perfect for my game play. You see, while most were off gallivanting on worlds inhabited by giants and fairies, going to battle with Players who duel as ancient wizards who can kill you with one flick of their magic staff, I had decided to pursue a different kind of online life. But I’m not the only one, the You-niverse , after all, was made and sold as a virtual world completely personal to you, you could fill your virtual space with whatever worlds you wanted as they were just one click (and Xdollars) away. When I was too young to fit into a pair of goggles, to keep me entertained my mother would leave me in the real world with only some headphones and a vast selection of audio books to act as my babysitter. I discovered mysteries as soon as I could choose my own books. I was three years old; listening to Nancy Drew as she discovered the ghost next door was just a weird old man with a vengeance, when I decided there and then that’s what I wanted to do with my life. Good old Nancy, the inspiration for my avatar, kept me entertained to the ripe old age of 7. But by then I had grown out of the basic format of those novels. You see, in the old world, where children went to school and learned to read and write above just the simple necessities, I would have been considered a child prodigy. So I would sneak out of my house, while my family were busy playing away, and walk to the crumbling old library, I would spend my days there reading all sorts of books, teaching myself any skill available. But mostly I would find myself in the mystery section. So that’s why, when I turned 14, and I got given my own X.R.Y world to make my own, I knew exactly what I would do with it. With the 100 Xdollars I received with my rig I bought 3 games. Murder Miss-Stories, Nancy Drew Files and Lady Killers. All the games were made by ladies and had a feminist twist and I loved every one, and I was pretty good at them, by 16 I had entered and won 100s of virtual murder mystery competitions and gained not only some big Xbucks but a lot of notoriety too. I was the most renowned Avatar in my field of worlds and in just over 2 years I’d become the main earner in my family. My career was in the virtual space but it put real food on our table. I was reminded of that, when my mother cleared her throat and muted the television, I turned around to hear her say “Candice, baby, don’t you think it’s about time you get to work?” Silently I took that as my cue to get up off the floor and go upstairs to my room, or what I call, my office. Inside, I placed my gear on and powered up X.R.Y. The first thing I saw when I logged in was my message board, this wasn't unusual for me; success garners attention after all. But one message pulled my focus, the name MattyPattyPal with the subject simply stating: Help me. It wasn’t the subject that really bothered me, it was the tag; I knew it because I’d heard it all day. He was one of the six. The message had been sent a few days before but I knew he was the last of them to die, just last night. With suddenly clammy hands, I opened it and began to read its contents. To NellieDray14 I need your help. My friends are dead, and I think I’m next. You only get one shot. Don’t blow it. MattyPattyPal The message contained an already purchased game, EdenofOrthal, the game all six boys were playing when they died. I had goosebumps all over my body; my breath was coming hot and fast, my mind was racing, Matty knew he was going to die and what did he do, he didn’t go to the police, he came to me. A mystery, a real mystery dropped into my message box, and I was going to solve it. But first I needed supplies. EofO was the most popular world inside the You-niverse for boys aged 14-28 being a PvP world where anyone was fair game. The story goes that a wise old wizard named Orthal was tired of Saxos, the world he came from, so he used his power to create a new world, an Eden if you will. As years past however, the evil Saxoners found a way to break through to Orthal’s Eden in want of killing him and taking his Land. Orthal used up the last of his powers to go into hiding, leaving behind clues for the revolutionaries to find him and stop the evil Saxoners. In the game, you get to choose who you’ll be: A Saxoner or A Rebel. But whatever I chose, I knew I’d have to be heavily armed. I exited the message board and logged into The Corridor walking over to the Mall door, inside was the biggest shopping mall to ever grace the human world, well, technically. Virtual shops lined every inch of the world, available for anyone in the You-niverse . But to have what was inside, well that came for a price. There was a special store for what I needed called EquiptofOrthal, it had everything from wand making, to guns bigger than my arms. I went simple but efficient, sleek body armour, and easily disguisable but effective weapons. Before leaving the mall I made one last stop in preparation of what could come. Back inside The Corridor I set up EdenofOrthal and made my way towards its door. It stood out compared to my other world doors, covered in ivy and glowing under the crack, I reached out for the ancient doorknob and pulled, making my way into a whole new world. ***** I spent my first days talking to other players, asking questions and trying to make connections, but it was harder than I thought it would be. I wasn’t stupid, I knew why. I stood out, not because I was a newbie, because I was a woman. The statistics weren’t lying, but they didn’t tell me how uncomfortable I’d be here. Nobody wanted to talk with me, I wasn’t asked to join any quests, and you would think that meant I didn’t get challenged, but I did. On Thursday night, I was talking to a level 26 warlock about Matty, and I was finally getting somewhere. DionysisTheIII was telling me how he knew Matty and had been on a few quests with him, Matty apparently was a valuable player. Just as I was getting into the good stuff my avatar was thrown forcefully into a stone wall. “Woman, you do not belong here!”A hulking Ogre stood across from me, in battle pose and as I stood up he continued to talk. “You shall prove your worthiness, by battling me!” His voice echoed across the land as spectators began to watch on. I scoffed, indignant “I don’t want to fight you, I’m here to save you, all of you, people are dying and I am the only one trying to figure out why!” He was speechless, they all were, and one by one they all began to walk away, ashamed of their sexist actions, including the ogre, who mumbled a sorry as he left. DionysisTheIII patted me on the back stating simply, “good for you, he challenged me once, I lost,” as he walked away. ***** Things got better from there; on Sunday I spoke to some of Matty’s friends Stylis33 and Magnarok_AG, they told me that the last time they saw him he spoke of a secret quest he’d been invited on, and that he was nervous to “finish all this”. I left them straight after as I needed to think, once again I was covered in goose-bumps, luckily I had turned off my You-camera, as I didn’t want people to be able to read my expressions, while investigating. I had it, my first lead, and my Nancy-senses were tingling. This quest must be important. Monday morning as I logged in another curious message caught my attention.  Dearest NellieDray14 It is I, Orthal. I have been watching you, and I know that you are the one. You have been chosen to go on the quest of Orthal! Others have tried but failed to find me, you only have one shot. Find me where the stone meets the water. Good Luck The quest, this is what the boys were talking about, and that phrase “you only have one shot,” that’s exactly what Matty had said in his message! This was it; I was going to solve the mystery. I came out of the game and started to prepare. If I was right, when I lose this quest, the murderer will come here, I don’t know how yet but I know he will. I locked the front door and made sure not to put earphones on, just in-case. At the bottom of the message was a link, at first I didn’t understand why I had to access the game through it, instead of just through the door, but it all made sense once I clicked the link and it sucked me back into the world of Eden. I didn’t notice straight away but after a few seconds I spotted the blinking light that told me my You-camera had been remotely turned on. I had been hacked, and now, I was being watched. I made sure not to show I knew, carrying on towards the giant stone in the middle of river Geiffel. The clue led me there. As I got closer I noticed that the stone was actually an archway and I knew, to continue on, I had to walk though. That’s when I heard it, the click of someone unlocking the front door. My hand twitched as I went to grab what was in front of me but then remembered I was being watched, I had to wait for the right moment. I entered a dark alley as I listened to footsteps coming up the stairs. A shadow of a person appeared and I knew as I got closer to them, in reality, they got closer to me. Just as my door started to creak open I saw him, DionysisTheIV. That was all the proof I needed. In real time I whipped off my goggles and grabbed the gun I had ordered that day in the Mall. Quickly I turned around to face the killer, but what I saw made me hesitate. A young girl, perhaps my age stood in front of me holding a gun ready to kill, the other holding a phone, my face visible on the screen. The real world suddenly became a PvP zone and I knew, I had to shoot before she shot me. I held my breath, and pulled the trigger... ***** It’s been two days, and only now, does it all make sense. Sissy or DionysisTheIV, had been taken into an ambulance, shoulder bleeding. I rode with her, desperate to find out why, although I already had a good idea. Sissy had logged into the You-niverse for the first time and like me was excited to try her hand at some new games. But poor 14 year old Sissy wasn’t prepared for the misogyny that awaited her or the battle with an ogre that left her powered out and humiliated, she begged her parents for the 15 Xdollars that would buy her a new life but she knew this time when she came back to EdenofOrthal it would have to be different. So she came back as DionysisTheIV, the spelling mistake a clever tell, and she became a level 26 Warlock before realising it wasn’t enough. She needed revenge. She created a wormhole that sent people into her own mini game within the world and even managed to hack her way through to 7 peoples hard-drives with one link, turns out I’m not the only child prodigy around! She went on her very own Saxoner Killing spree. That was of course, until I got involved, she knew I was getting too close to the answer and so sent me the same email she’d sent the 6 boys hoping to get rid of the threat. But she underestimated me. Later, in the ambulance she would tell me it was only fitting she got caught by another girl and that if she had to go down, at least it was like that. And me, well I started getting far more requests for help after that, but I’d decided to retire from real life sleuthing and get back to the You-niverse kind. And that, is how I solved The Case of The Virtual Killer.


He couldn’t believe his own eyes. Impenetrable darkness bordered by a red glare. So close. All his life was leading up to this moment. All those calculations, those experiments, those test flights. Those years spent in libraries and laboratories. But it was all worth it. He was fascinated with space ever since he was a child. With all its secrets that were light years away. All those stars and nebulas, those planets and asteroids. All those places where noone has ever been. He always wanted to be like the Voyager and venture into the unkown with nothing but the golden disc on his chest. When he looked up at the night sky and saw the stars shining through the vastness of cosmos all the way to earth, he was amazed. Before that light finally got to reach his eyes, Galileo, Copernicus, Tycho Brahe and many more lived and died while exploring the mysteries of the universe. He knew he would join them once. And now he was so close. The red glare dissapeared. Nothing left but the impenetrable darkness. And he was falling into it. Faster and faster. When he started to study the universe, he fell in love with black holes. Mass so heavy nothing escapes its gravity, not even light, but still: Nothing can ever enter it. Mass so heavy it doesn’t obey by the rules of the universe described by some of the greatest minds of our civlization, but still: It remains alone, sole exeption, so the rules remain unbroken. “Nothing can ‘fall into’ a black hole. The closer an object gets to the core, the faster it accelerates. The faster it accelerates, the heavier it gets and the more it bends the spacetime. Thats how theory of relativity works. Before the object can get to the centre, it ends up bending the spacetime so much, it quite literally gets ‘frozen’ in time. Nothing can ever reach the core.” “You’re wrong. I will.” He knew he would reach it. He had to. He lived a long and happy live. Now comes the climax. Impenetrable darkness moments away. He was almost there. “Probe 1, this is the last message from the mothership Apollo 22. In a few moments, you won’t be able to recieve or send any more messages. See you on the other side, doc. God bless you.” From the point of view of the observer, an object falling into the black hole will stop in time before reaching the core. But the time is relative and it remains unchanged for that very object. Nothing will ever fall into a black hole, except all the things that are falling into it. It sounds strange, but it is true. His ship started to pick up speed. It was almost moving at the speed of light. He knew the ship would last. When he told his friends about his plan, they laughed at him at first. Some even tried to talk him out of it. But to no avail. In the end they all agreed to help him and they created the perfect indestructible vessel, capsule, Noah’s Ark, that would withstand all storms and land safely in the new world with its precious cargo. Impenetrable darkness at his fingertips. Farewell to the crew of Apollo 22, farewell to all the colleagues, farewell to his family. They are all probably dead by now. 1... 2... 3... He counted and imagined all the civilizations that already rose and fell again, all the stars that were born and died again, all the universes that existed... But he was in his capsule, inside of the black hole. Untouched by the flow of time. It was just him, at the core of his black hole. It was just him, in the center of his universe.